#different kinds of silly bitches but i love them both equally. so much. so so much

[the-kipsabian]

they are both equally lovely and important btw

[secret-smut-sideblog]

To Build A Home

Gale x F! Tav (named)

(Child Of Dawn series, Part 5)

PG-13 religious trauma, complicated feelings, tenderness (platonic and romantic), love proclamations

The wound in her chest healing, Aurum confronts the ties that still bind her. And with Mystra's new expectations given, Gale cannot wait any longer to tell her of his feelings...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

Sat in waist high grass, she waited.

World still dark, head bowed, hands resting in her lap.

As soon as the crown of the sun's head rose over the mountain, the hymn began. Low, distant, but gaining power.

Her flock calling for her.

She responded in the old song. Heart aching with loss, anger, regret. Fury at being here again, at herself for re-looping this cut thread around her wrist.

But, more than anything, ashamed at the relief. The feeling of not being alone. That her convocation was with her again.

Their voices strong, surrounding her in rapturous wordless prayer. Her own voice rising high above, feeling their devotion like lovesick children.

Tears streamed down her face, bitter and tender in equal parts.

As the sun, the true sun, fully crested the sky, their voices faded into the ether. Gone until the next morning.

Gripping at her weathered holy robes, her tears fell silent.

"I am not your savior." She whispered to the crickets, to the waving grass.

Her chest still ached, both in restraining the sun inside and the deep fracture that struck down it.

She had gone too far and she couldn't go back now. Unless devine intervention struck, the sun had been rose. And a false sun cannot set.

Reawakening had been what had saved him from the shadow curse, but at such a cost. She could never tell him the extent of the choice she had made that day.

Clenching her fist, she cried. So close. She had been so close to being out.

But what was done is done. Now she had to learn to live with it again.

Rising her palm to the sun streaked sky, she let the sigil of Lathander burn above her.

Maybe he would be more forgiving than Amauntor. The same god she is sworn to in essence, but a different facet. She did call upon some level of his power already.

But could the false sun turn him from her? The blasphemy seated inside her chest.

A dome of light covered the entire of the clearing as she hushed the incantation, lifting the ends of her hair.

She closed her eyes and tried to channel him, palm burning in defiance already.

Only when her chest began shrieking in indignant betrayal did she release. But she felt it, if just for a moment.

"Aurum?"

She turned her head, letting the spell fall away. Smiling warmly at the legs approaching in the grass.

"How'd your hunt go?"

Astarion flopped down next to her with a sigh, stretching long legs out.

"That good, huh?" She teased, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head in kind.

They sat quiet like that for a moment, tall grass waving around them. Hidden away in a small pocket of the earth.

"I missed this." He sighed, lacing their hands together. "And I didn't even remember it. Isn't that silly? Missing something that you forgot you had."

Aurum hummed in agreement. She felt the same, tenderness between friends was something she could barely recall. But her heart ached for it all the same.

"So, how's the hopeless pining going?" He teased, knocking his knee against hers.

"Oh, about as well as your hunting."

He scoffed, and she laughed.

"I'm well enough that you can feed on me again, Astarion. I promise."

"I'll take you up on that offer. But you're avoiding my question, you're oh so good at that."

She sighed, turning to face him. Picking up pieces of grass and laying them in a line on her knee.

"It's just so complicated. There's so much going on even outside of my internal problem. The Absolute, the tadpoles, the orb... Gods don't even get me started on Mystra and her order to detonate it! The bitch..."

"Language!" Astarion admonished.

"Oh her and I would have words, I promise you that. It's just..."

As she trailed off he squeezed her hand in encouragement.

"I don't know how much Gale wants me or he wants another Mystra, you know?"

Astarion hummed in agreement.

"I think on some level he sought me out as a replacement. Another goddess to worship. Gods the way he looked at me in those early days, I felt like I was back in the temple in Waterdeep."

She looked up at him, smiling sadly.

"I wish he could see me the way that you can. Messy, imperfect, honestly a little annoying."

Astarion snorted. "A little?"

She pinched his thigh.

"I just... I don't want to be a devine messenger anymore. Though it seems that may be my fate."

She felt tears threatening. "I wish things could be any other way."

The sun flared in her chest, and she cupped her hand over it.

He put his hand over hers.

"I hear you."

She smiled, pressing her forehead to his.

"Thank you."

They took another moment of comfortable silence. Connected to one another.

"Let's go back to camp, darling. Before we get ticks."

She laughed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"True, we only have enough room for one bloodsucker around here."

"Absolutely vile feedback, my dear."

He pulled her up by their clasped hands. Thumb rubbing hers as they walked. The risen sun at her back, they returned to their small noisy, messy world.

-

"One moment with you could sate me for a lifetime, and prise the fear from my heart. I'm so very glad you came, to share this with me."

Aurum's heart ached, finding his words to be true. The canopy of Weave he had constructed floating over her, blanketing the sky in ribbons of blue and purple.

"I know this is all unreal, but I created it for you. You must know that you're..." He paused, face tensing. "That you're very special to me."

She pulled her bottom lip into her teeth, not voicing her underlying thoughts but still feeling them.

"If things were different, if we were home, I'd have taken the time to do things properly. To say it all better. But time is short."

His soft brown eyes fell on her then, face strained.

"I'm in love with you." A near whisper.

She knew he was, had known for a while. In the way all devotees love their object of worship.

She took his hands and kissed him deeply.

"I don't think I can be what you want from me." She hushed against his lips, pulling away slightly. "I can't be your new goddess, Gale."

He took a sharp breath in, but didn't pull away.

"I know. I'm sorry. I've put you in an unfair position."

Relief flooded through her at his admission.

"If we do this, we must be equals. I cant..." She paused, tears threatening. Turning her face down.

"I can't take being held above anymore. It hurts too much."

He cupped her face, bringing her eyes back up to his.

"I can love you as mortals do, I promise I can."

A knot in her throat silenced her for a moment.

"I think I could love you the same if you'll still have me." She hushed.

He laughed softly

"Of course I'll still have you. Gods, that's a relief. It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself."

Aurum giggled, wiping her tears with her fingers.

"Well, I had planned to bond with you the way gods do. But given the circumstances that would be rather ill mannered, wouldn't it?"

He offered his hand to her, pulling her up.

"So you've caught on." She teased.

He scrunched up his nose in that playful way she adored.

"But if you'll allow me, I'd still like to take you somewhere. How about the perfect night in Waterdeep? Yes... Let's imagine how it would be."

She nodded, and with a wave of his hand a warm room enveloped them.

"The scene is this: you and I stand in the room that is the center of my universe."

As he introduced the room to her, she followed behind him. Taking in the cozy decor, the crackling fire. Fingers gently trailing along small objects on his desk.

He got quiet, staring at her in adoration.

She picked up a small trinket and held it to the light.

"What?" She smiled to his staring.

"Oh, nothing. You just look good here. It suits you, being in the heart of my world."

Her chest lit up white.

She looked down in shock.

"Are you okay?" He stepped forward, concern in his eyes.

"I think so. It's just... it's never done that before."

She held her hand to the sun, feeling a pleasant heat.

Then she started laughing.

"Care to share your epiphany?" He stepped forward, placing his hand next to hers.

"You know we see the sun as yellow or even orange..." She started, moving her hand to let him have full touch.

"But it's an illusion. Its true color is white."

He smiled down at the brilliant light carding between his fingers, looking back up at her.

"Can I show you my favorite spot?"

She nodded, and he led her by the hand to double doors, opening for them with a gentle creak.

"Ah, the weary sun takes its gentle dive into the sea." He hummed as they stepped out into the warm light.

The sea illuminated in the soft pink hues of the resting sun. Sailboats drifting, the gentle sounds of lapping water.

Aurum walked out to the railing, taking in the view with him. Both tinged in longing for a place far from them.

"When this is all over, I want to go back. I miss Waterdeep so much." Aurum sighed.

He turned to her, taking both of her hands in his.

"Could I take you home? Would you allow me that honor?"

She smiled, squeezing his hands.

"I would like that. Though I don't know if I could call Spires of the Morning home."

She paused then, a sad but honest thought crossing her.

"I've only ever lived in temples. I guess I've never had a home."

He stepped forward, holding the back of her head as she looked up at him.

"If we survive this, and if miraculously by the end we're both whole and sane... if you still will have me by then, I will make a home for you. Whether my own, here, or one entirely new. Would you want that?"

The sun burned a radiant white inside her, telling him her answer before she could speak. But she did anyway.

"Yes. Yes I want that."

He kissed her deeply, drinking her through. As endless as the sea and as replenishing as summer rain, he poured love into her.

When he finally pulled away she whispered to him.

"Please take me to bed, Gale."

~

Part 6

[terrainofheartfelt]

What are your insights on Georgina's relationships with Serena and Dan?

ooooh interesting and frighteningly open-ended!

it's interesting because Georgina is such a different personality from them, yeah? And I think that's the crux of the draw for her: Serena and Dan both have this compulsion to always believe and hope for the best in people, even Georgina. Like, there's a reason she and Serena became friends in the first place, right? There's a wholesomeness to the both of them that Georgina finds compelling, and I think it's both because she knows she can corrupt it, but never so much that they'll shut her out forever.

and for Serena's and Dan's sides of it...we don't really see all of what Serena and Georgina did together, but we can guess, and I think for her she was almost - set free from the idea that she didn't have to be Good with Georgie, they could be silly and self-destructive and Serena could sort of...surrender to the pain she couldn't name, but it never would be as bad or as dark as whatever Georgina was carrying. Blair is the friend who's always trying to pull her up, to keep her grades good and her mom from finding out her indiscretions but Georgina didn't ask perfection of her, and for the broken teenage girl that Serena was before the show, that had to be kind of liberating.

For Dan its similar, I think, but a little less fraught, up until Milo I suppose. With Georgina he doesn't have to be the good student or the good brother or the good son or the good boyfriend, and he can sort of....surrender to his bitchy side? Because he is a Bitch (I love him so much), which is something he has in common with Georgina, they're equals in a way for that. and in s3 Georgina is the person that he can make bad decisions with and have uncomplicated kinky fun. the sub!dan agenda begins with georgina after all. Until it becomes complicated, because he hadn't bargained for Georgina's possessive/jealous streak.

and Serena and Dan both fall out with her because Georgina crosses a line that is so egregious and nearly breaks both of them. for Serena it's the Pete trauma, and for Dan, it's Milo. but what interesting is this: Serena cuts Georgie out and means it, wants nothing to do with her and takes pains to keep her out of her life when she comes back to nyc. And after s1, she keeps on keeping her distance, Georgina and Serena never interact in any meaningful capacity after that, and they never initiate contact, it's always Blair or Chuck or Dan that brings Georgina back around for whatever reason.

But after Milo, arguably the biggest heartbreak of Dan's life, he still interfaces with Georgina directly in s5 and, of course, has a close personal relationship with her in s6. Serena, the always gracious, always forgiving Serena couldn't open the door to Georgina again. but Dan could. Dan does. and I think it mostly has to do with the spot he's put in in s5, being so grievously betrayed by Blair and Serena (at the same time!), and effectively abandoned by everyone else in his support system (Alison, Jen, Vanessa, Rufus, Nate). Georgina has already done the worst thing she could ever do to him (take his child away from him), so in his hurt, he goes with the devil he knows, and steers into the skid, leaning into the aspects of his personality that being with Georgina brings out in him, without a check this time.

going through my meta tag for that previous ask, I found a post from Ivy that says it plays into "Dan's need to belong to someone" he needs to belong to someone, and if it's Georgina, then so be it. there's something to her possessiveness of him that - in spite of himself - he cannot walk away from. And in that sense, Serena shows more strength of character than he does, because it's a marker of her personality too, wanting to belong to someone, always trying to make a home in someone else. unlike Dan, Serena knew that the person she was with Georgina is a person she never wanted to go back to. and she decided that her sense of self wasn't worth sacrificing for a home (a lesson she learned from being with dan! he looks at me like I want to believe in myself and all that).

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you’re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[yellowocaballero]

Jon's Trapped in Temporal Time-Out: A TMA Time Travelling Tale

Sasha was tipping some whiskey from her secret flask into her tea when Tim poked his head into the breakroom and announced that he had found a corpse.

Sasha and Martin, hunched over their paltry lunches and pathetic lives situated upon a rickety metal breakroom table and equally rickety metal chairs, stared at him. 

“Like,” Sasha said finally, “a human one?”

Tim shrugged. “Humanoid? I didn’t want to poke it and see if it was fleshy, so I guess the jury’s out.”

Hm. Sasha put her flask away. The day was no longer boring, so it was unnecessary. 

The most relevant questions ought to be asked first. “Should we tell Jon?”

“He might throw a bitch fit about how corpses are unhygienic, so no?”

Martin drained his tea and stood up from the rickety metal chair, resigned. “I’ll get the broom.”

I kept on bitching about how much I dislike the beginning scenes of TMA time travelling AUs so my friend @lazuliquetzal​ (who wrote the best TMA time travelling fic in the fandom) told me to put my money where my mouth is. It’s nowhere near her level, but in my defense it’s probably even stupider than Reflection. 10K of stupid under the cut. 

Sasha was tipping some whiskey from her secret flask into her tea when Tim poked his head into the breakroom and announced that he had found a corpse.

Sasha and Martin, hunched over their paltry lunches and pathetic lives situated upon a rickety metal breakroom table and equally rickety metal chairs, stared at him. 

“Like,” Sasha said finally, “a human one?”

Tim shrugged. “Humanoid? I didn’t want to poke it and see if it was fleshy, so I guess the jury’s out.”

Hm. Sasha put her flask away. The day was no longer boring, so it was unnecessary. 

The most relevant questions ought to be asked first. “Should we tell Jon?”

“He might throw a bitch fit about how corpses are unhygienic, so no?”

Martin drained his tea and stood up from the rickety metal chair, resigned. “I’ll get the broom.”

****

There was, indeed, a corpse in the Archives.

More specifically, in the stacks. The worst place to die, or least be dumped. Sasha had to admit the logic of it: it was the darkest depths of the library that Martin had informed her was ‘somewhat creepy’ and ‘kind of ominous’ so ‘please stop sleeping there you’re going to give me a heart attack’. After Martin flipped on a few lights that were never flipped on (apparently Elias was a cheapskate, which explained the breakroom) they could all gawk at the corpse to their heart’s content. 

Very kindly and thoughtfully, Tim asked Martin if he wanted to stay out of the library and maybe to ‘tell someone’ or something. Both Sasha and Tim had mutually and silently agreed that Martin seemed the type to have a delicate constitution. Granted, he hadn’t seemed the type to win Magnus Anarchist every month by breaking into abandoned buildings with absolutely no shame, so maybe he was the kind that surprised you. 

But Martin had just looked a little unimpressed. “Do you seriously think this is my first corpse? I went to university.”

That somewhat intimidated Sasha, who abruptly worried that she had missed out on an essential university experience again. “Is that a typical university experience?”

Martin paused a beat. 

“Uh,” he said, “yeah, sure, of course. Hazing, you know.”

“Is that what hazing…?”

“Fraternities.”

Tim, from where he had been standing at the entrance to the stacks snapping on the sterile gloves he had liberated from the cleaning supply closet, looked delighted. “You were in a frat too, Martin? What kind of hardcore frat had corpse hazings? Was it the Sigma Gammas? My frat always thought they were way too crazy, but we were a business one -”

“You know what,” Martin said, “let’s just worry about the corpse.”

After Sasha tied her hair in a ponytail and Martin snapped on his own gloves, they awkwardly approached the aisle where Tim had been trying to find a reference book for Jon. Sasha was worried that they would have to hunt for it a little, or that there would be a bad jump scare, but when they found it she saw that it wasn’t subtle at all.

It was sprawled on the ground, face mashed into the cheap and somewhat gross carpet. Sasha approached it with absolutely no hesitation, which Tim and Martin gladly let her do, and squatted down to get a better look at the figure. 

She definitely needed to make a coroner’s report. She was the objective expert in coroner’s reports. 

 “Tim, can you run back and get one of Jon’s silly little tape recorders for my coroner’s report?”

“Did you just see that on the telly?” Tim asked skeptically. “Because if you did -”

“Oh, here one is. That’s really convenient!” Martin grabbed one off the shelf and pressed play, letting the tape roll. “Good idea, Sasha. We need proof to Jon that we were researching.”

Probably...not what Jon meant for them to be researching, but Sasha liked to believe that it was the intent that mattered. She pulled a pencil out of her pencil skirt pocket, poking the figure thoughtfully. “Report by Sasha James, Archival Assistant.” There, now it was work. “At 1:30pm today, Tim Stoker discovered a corpse in the Archives, thereby referred to as John Doe -”

“Do we have to call it John Doe?” Tim complained, standing next ot her and crossing his arms. “Then we have too many Johns, it’ll get confusing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sasha said dismissively. “Ours is Jon, this guy’s John. Completely different.”

“Sasha, I’m not sure that’s how words work.”

“What are you, an English major?”

“Yes! I was an editor for a living!”

“Sorry if I don’t listen to guys who were fired from book editing school -”

“Uh,” Martin said, “have we checked to see if he’s actually dead?”

Sasha and Tim fell silent. Sasha looked at Tim. Tim shook his head. 

“Seriously, mate?” Sasha asked, unimpressed. 

“I didn’t want to touch the corpse!” Tim cried. “So sue me! It’s not as if he’s moving!”

Pussy. Sasha gently reached out and pushed aside a little of the corpse’s very long and pretty curly hair. What was that, 3C? Jesus, that had to be work. Sasha was 3A and the amount of hair care products she owned was insane.

She waved her hand at the boys for silence and put her thumb against his pulse, concentrating hard. Martin quietly walked over and crouched down too, eyeing his chest. 

“I don’t feel a pulse,” Sasha said finally. 

“Also, uh, I’m not a doctor,” Martin said, “but he’s definitely not breathing.”

“I told you,” Tim said defensively. “You just look at the thing, and you go - yep, that’s a corpse!”

“Corpse appears to be an ethnically ambiguous adult man with very nice hair,” Sasha said loudly. Martin helpfully held out the recorder to catch her voice better. “Maybe 190cm. Incredibly skinny - potential cause of death. He’s dressed in...some very ratty clothing. Potentially homeless.”

“It definitely smells,” Tim said, pinching his nose. Sasha didn’t blame him - the clothing was an overlarge green hoodie, ratty and threadbare, and his jeans weren’t any better. His boots were worn and soft leather. “Maybe he’s a homeless guy who snuck in and died?”

“That’s so sad,” Martin said softly. “Also a little gross.”

“Have some respect for the dead, guys,” Sasha said, as she poked the dead guy with a pencil. “Tim, go flip him over.”

Tim held his hands up, stepping away. “I couldn’t possibly. Martin loves flipping people over.”

“This again?” Martin asked, frustrated. “This is just like when you made me handle the Rawlings case because you’re scared of the suburbs!”

“They have too many eyes, Martin!”

“I am surrounded by cowards,” Sasha noted for the recorder. Nothing for it, then. Sasha carefully straightened, wobbling on her heels, before solidly wiggling her hands underneath the corpse’s chest. He was cold - dead a while. 

It was surprisingly difficult to flip over a limp adult man. Sasha was strong, but the corpse’s flesh was weak, and he was all floppy. Eventually Tim got over himself long enough to help her, making a very disgusted face the entire time, and they were able to finally get a good look at the man’s face.

Abruptly, upon seeing it, they all quieted. 

There was something about seeing a man splayed out on the ground that was a little funny, if you worked for the Magnus Institute and had probably encountered a Leitener two years ago and lost all empathy. No more impediments in the search for science. But there was something very different about looking at a person, who had a nose and lips and a very ratty hoodie, and knowing that it was no longer a person. Just a lot of cloth and meat and blood and organs and nice hair that once was a person, back when things were easier and the world was a little less harsh.

But maybe Sasha was caught by sentimentality: after all, the corpse looked a little like Jon.

Judging from the stunned faces of her compatriots as they all bent around the figure, they all thought the same thing. Tim’s jaw was open, and Martin’s hand was covering his mouth in shock. 

“Man,” Tim said. “This sucks. And it’s really creepy.”

“He must have been really gorgeous,” Martin said. “That’s so sad.” 

Actually, Sasha tilted her head and took another look. He had sharp and severe features, elegant and striking. A large and thin, sharp nose, and equally sharp lips. His face was just as sharp and gaunt, as emancipated as the rest of him. He had strange scars trailing up his neck and curving around his jaw, but it just kind of accentuated the intense atmosphere. 

It was probably a pretty stupid thing to focus on, but in her defense it wasn’t really the face of a homeless guy. Well, maybe. Hot homeless people existed.

Sasha frowned. She’s only met one other person this hot. 

“Hey,” she said, “doesn’t he look like Jon?”

Both the men titled their heads. 

Finally, Tim said, “Nah, he’s hotter.”

“Agreed,” Sasha said. “I think the scars really do it.” 

“Uh, guys,” Martin said. 

Sasha grabbed her tape recorder out of Martin’s hands, resuming her coroner’s report. “Subject appears to be in his thirties. Weirdly attractive, but that’s probably not as important as we feel it is.” She looked down at his hands, carefully using her pencil to push up the sleeve. “What looks like an aged and badly healed burn scar on his right hand. Supports homeless guy evidence.”

“Knife scar over his throat,” Tim quietly observed. “Someone tried to kill this guy.”

“Guys,” Martin said. 

“Well, I guess this is the point where we worry about body disposal,” Sasha said, straightening. “I think Elias could handle this discreetly and professionally, but that might involve letting Jon know. And I don’t think any of us want that kind of stress in our lives.”

“So, are we not even pretending to want to call the cops, or…?”

“Listen to me!”

Both Tim and Sasha shut up, somewhat guiltily. Martin had straightened too, fists balled, looking firm and determined and resolute - everything that Martin wasn’t, really. Martin lived unsure of himself, never expressing his own feelings or ending every opinion with an “I don’t know, maybe, that’s just my thoughts, what do you think?”. 

So Tim and Sasha paid attention, and when Sasha nodded encouragingly at him he seemed to find further courage. Solemnly, with the air of a wise man by the side of the road, Martin said, “This guy isn’t hotter than Jon.”

Christ. Sasha takes it all back.

 Tim propped a hand on his hip supportively as Sasha rolled her eyes. “Look, mate,” Tim said, “I know that you think Jon’s the hottest person in existence, and maybe objectively he’s fine as hell, but once you know him for longer than three months he loses all attractiveness. It would be like being into the DMV clerk. The really pretentious cousin at all of your family reunions who tries to explain your own job to you. The dude in your English class who thinks he invented feminism.”

“That was you,” Sasha said. 

“I am the objective expert in Jon,” Martin said firmly, shutting down the dissent. “He’s, like, my muse, okay? And can I say, as I have spent so many long hours memorizing the curve of his jaw - that’s the same jaw.”

If Sasha had a retort to that, or if Tim wanted to judge Martin for his taste in men further, neither of them had a chance. There wasn't an opportunity to say anything more, because the corpse opened its eyes. 

Sasha’s first thought was this: wow, what green eyes. 

Sasha’s second thought was: the fuck?

His eyes didn’t focus on her, or snap anywhere. They drifted a little lazily, fixed on the right, but the man was undoubtedly aware. His fingers twitched, he tilted his head from left to right, and his left hand - doubtlessly the hand that still felt texture - clenched the thin and cheap rug. The man’s jaw slackened a little, as if in surprise. 

For their part, the Assistants frantically looked at each other, all conveying the exact same thought - you said he was dead!

Sasha froze to her spot, petrified. She could handle corpses, or coroner’s reports, or mysteries. Sasha was intelligent, unkind, firm, socially incompetent, and a Libra. She could handle the dead, but the living? Sasha had no idea what to do with alive people.

But Tim did. He hesitated two moments, reeling back in shock, before he abruptly composed himself. He crouched down to the guy, and modulated his voice to sound calming and firm. “Hey, don’t strain yourself. Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?”

The man turned his head in Tim's direction, hiding his expression from Sasha, but she saw Tim’s eyes widen. Martin, standing closer to his feet, wrung his hands - clearly torn on what to do, uncertain how to help. Martin always hated being uncertain how to help the most. Which was pretty unfortunate, because Martin always wanted to help, and Martin was always uncertain. 

“Can you speak?” Tim asked gently. “If you can’t speak, go ahead and knock on the floor for me, okay?”

“If we pack him into your car, we can say that we found him on the street,” Sasha piped up. As much as she distrusted NHS, and as much as the NHS refused to touch anybody who had ever stepped foot inside the Institute, they could hardly refuse somebody if they just lied their ass off about it. “They’ll have to treat him then, right?”

“We could make it so much worse if we move him,” Martin said quickly, just as strangely firm. “We need to take our chances with 999.”

“We don’t even know if he’s injured,” Sasha pointed out, somewhat optimistically. “Maybe this whole thing can just, like, not be a problem.”

Yeah, Sasha definitely preferred corpses. 

The man was opening and closing his mouth, before he coughed wetly. Sasha clinically noted that it was the first time she had seen his chest move. As Tim reached forward, murmuring gently, and helped the man sit up, she saw that his chest didn’t move at all.

“Alright, let’s try to get you up.” Tim helped the man shift so he was leaning against the bookcase - uncomfortable, but a better position if he started coughing up blood. “We should fetch you some water - Martin, I don’t think he has any injury like that, he just seems out of it. His eyes aren’t focusing on me at all.”

Strangely, the man scoffed at that. The sound made him cough again, but the derision was unmistakable.

The derision was extremely familiar. 

When Sasha looked at Martin his eyes were wide behind his glasses, and she knew that he had heard the same thing that she did. 

Finally, with a raspy and hoarse voice, the man said, “Well, isn’t this fucking fun.”

Everybody stared at him. His voice...different, definitely, with a less posh accent and strained vocal cords scratching his tones. But when Sasha glanced at Tim, she just knew that he was remembering when Jon had insisted on coming into work with a terrible cold and Martin had to bully him home. He had sounded eerily like…

“Is this your idea of a joke?” the man said. 

Tim, from where he was crouched next to the guy, turned his attention back to him. “I’m a funny guy, but last time I checked head injuries aren’t a joke.” He tracked his finger across the man’s eyes, frowning when they didn’t follow. “You definitely have a concussion, mate. If you can walk, we need to -”

“Lord, alright, I get it.” The man raised his burned hand and clumsily rubbed his eyes. “You’re mad at me, I’m sleeping on the couch, whatever. Is all of this really necessary?”

“Uh,” Tim said intelligently. “Mate, I’m not your boyfriend.”

The man waved his other hand in Tim’s direction as he pressed his fingers into his eyes in exhaustion. “I’m hardly speaking to you.” Tim’s jaw dropped in shock as the man angled his face upwards, the crown of his head jamming uncomfortably against the metal shelving. “In my defense, I was doing the best I could with the resources you gave me. It’s water under the bridge. I’ve forgotten about it already! So let’s just get back to our eldritch hellscape.”

Everybody stared at each other. 

“We should move this into the break room,” Martin said. “There’s tea there.”

“Oh, don’t be rude,” Jon said, “making Martin into a caricature of himself. You like Martin, you told me so.”

“Counterpoint,” Sasha said weakly, “the bullpen has Jon. And I really don’t want to explain this to Jon.”

“I don’t even know who this one is,” the man said. “What? Not going to tell me?”

“Okay, like, fucking rude, but whatever.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking to,” Tim said firmly, reaching out and putting a firm hand on the man’s arm. The man didn’t recoil or jerk away, just looking down in vague surprise. “But they aren’t here right now. You’re in the basement of the Magnus Institute, alright? I’m Tim Stoker, at your service, and these are my coworkers. I think you have a brain injury. If you can walk, we need to get you -”

“I can’t eat here,” the man said, but he made no effort to remove Tim’s arm. He moved his other hand, pressing it against Tim’s own, as if they were friends. “Cutting me off from my Knowledge -” it was capitalized, Sasha could hear it “ - chaining me to my desk, for - what? You’re not even answering me? Come on!” The man’s voice raised, and for the first time Sasha could hear something ragged in it. “Don’t give me the silent treatment!”

“Jon.”

It was Martin, standing at a distance from the man - from all of them. He was wringing his hands again, shoulders hunched and tense, but his expression was caught in that same mysterious firmness. 

The man didn't react. Not in surprise, not in shock, not in unrecognition. He just scowled a little, ignoring all of them. 

“Jon,” Martin said, louder. “This isn’t solving anything. Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not the one being stubborn, Martin,” Jon - Jon?! - muttered, folding his arms. Like an infant. Like, hypothetically, something Jon would do. “I just don’t think omniscient fear gods should be petty.”

Everybody looked at each other. 

“This needs tea,” Martin proclaimed finally, and everybody nodded in silent agreement.

Every nodded in agreement - even, strangely enough, Jonathan Sims himself. 

****

This plan had a few complexities. 

The first complexity was dealing with Jon - their Boss - himself. In an act of cunning psychological warfare, Martin had gone ahead of them and used his endless and infinite subtle acts of manipulation to guarantee that Jon wouldn’t interrupt them. This situation was already Quite A Bit, nobody wanted to babysit their boss. 

Who Sasha frequently felt as if she babysat a bit. Having the youngest person in the office be the very rigid and authoritarian boss was objectively a little funny. But you know what’s not funny? Transphobia. 

Eventually Martin came back and waved them forward, and Tim gently yet firmly dragged the man upwards and put a hand on his back. 

“Do you mind if I touch you?” Tim asked. He sounded resigned about it - barely expecting Jon to respond. “Let me know how you want me to guide you.”

“Oh, it’s whatever. If you’re going to play it this way.” Jon easily looped his arm through Tim’s, who didn’t bother to mask his shock. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Sasha went ahead of them, watching Tim walk Jon down the aisle - hah! - with his arm looped through his elbow and a hand on his back. It was exactly the kind of care and meticulousness that Sasha always saw in him when it came to others. He literally walked grannies across the street. It was horrendous. She got second-hand embarrassed whenever she saw it.

Tim was loudly, extremely, messily kind. He was a person who adopted lost causes, like young men too grumpy to make real friends and women who only knew academia and never people. Sasha told him that once he got his teeth into something he never let go. It would get him into trouble one day. Maybe it already had. 

Sure enough, when Sasha opened the library door for them and peeked her head into the hallway, she saw that Jon’s office door was very firmly shut and locked. Even more incriminatingly, she heard his cute little theater drama monologues starting. Tim had found Jon’s theater aspirations very adorable and he had tried recording them to put on his Snapchat and maybe get him discovered by an agent, but unfortunately the videos made Tim’s phone bleed. They had given Martin ten pounds to taste the blood. Man would do anything for ten pounds, but seeing as they all worked this job that probably applied to all them. 

A workplace made out of people who always picked ‘dare’ in truth or dare. It was kind of a miracle they were still alive. Sasha was a little uncertain how she had survived to thirty five, actually. 

Once Sasha gave the all clear, Tim was able to bring Jon (Neo-Jon? Nega-Jon? Dark Jon? Mean Jon? No, that was just Jon) into the bullpen. Softly narrating what he was doing, he pulled out a chair and lowered Jon into it. 

Homeless Jon hasn’t been blind for very long, Sasha noted clinically. Long enough that he seemed more mildly irritated by it than anything else, but instead of orienting himself or testing out where he was he just kind of slumped in his chair. 

“Jon - uh, the Boss is taken care of?” Tim asked Martin, who was rapidly bustling into the bullpen with four cups of tea that he seemed to be under the impression would help. Tim had sat Homeless Jon in Martin’s chair, which seemed to fluster Martin a bit. 

“Uh, yeah. Gave him a normal statement to get his guard down, then five of the - you know, weird - statements and said that he has to go through all of them today. He’ll be in there for an hour at least.” 

Sasha frowned. “After two he gets a headache and gets bitchy.”

“Three o’clock exactly,” Tim said solemnly.

“Oh, leave off,” Homeless Jon said, “it wasn’t that bad.”

Everybody double taked and looked at each other significantly - which was quickly becoming their predominant mode of communication in a ruthless act of ableism. But Martin just held out a cup of tea, faltering as he clearly stopped to wonder the easiest way to give it to him. 

“Can you hold out your hands, Jon? I have some tea for you. It’s hot, so be careful, okay?”

“If the tea’s spiders I’m going to take it out on Annabelle,” Weird Jon said, but he held out his hands anyway and let Martin put the mug in them. He sniffed it cautiously, checking for spiders, before taking a cautious sip. 

To Sasha and Tim, Martin said, “I know, he’s going to fall asleep after two. I mean, it might be because I drugged his tea a little -”

Weird Jon spat out his tea back into the mug. 

“ - so we shouldn’t be interrupted,” Martin said brightly, clapping his hands. “Now! I think it’s time for explanations, don’t you?” He turned his mighty gaze upon Thankfully Blind Jon, who was occupied carefully holding the tea away from himself. “Drink your tea, Jon.”

Jon drank his tea. His expression twisted. “It tastes just like his.”

Everybody looked at each other. Tim mouthed the word ‘time traveller’ very clearly. Both Sasha and Martin nodded. It was the obvious explanation. 

“An explanation now, please,” Martin said pleasantly. “If you’re a time traveller, you can tell us. This is a safe space.”

Jon-from-the-future’s expression harshened in creases. He hadn’t once relaxed, expression permanently tightened in annoyance and disgruntlement. It was ridiculously Jon. 

Definitely a time traveller. You didn’t work at the Magnus Institute without secretly spending your life deeply hoping you run into a time traveller. Every researcher upstairs secretly prayed to discover the majesty. Everyone in Artifact Storage eagerly gathered around mysterious clocks and dared each other to touch them. Sasha, Queen of Truth-or-Dare, was the undisputed expert in making other people touch weird clocks and recording their reactions.

“Fine,” Super Time Traveller Jon said. “I know this is what you want. Statement of a stupid punishment by the pettiest little color in the evil crayon box. Recorded by the Archivist, in situ. Statement begins.”

Wow, Jon still had his job in the future? That’s a surprise. 

Martin was mouthing the word ‘evil crayon box’ to himself, looking increasingly concerned. The forgotten tape recorder, clenched in Sasha’s fist without her even realizing it, clicked and whirred. 

Then the Archivist began to speak. 

***

In the hazy amber of a memory, there exists an office.

You can see it clearly in your mind’s Eye, even now. You could likely navigate all of it blindfolded - which you now see that your god has the intention to test. Every corner of it is known to you, in the most subtle and mundane of ways. There’s a dust bunny in that corner, never tidied. A mysterious stain on the far right ceiling. The faint smell of blood, just under the vents. The hot waft of tea; your hands wrapped around a mug. 

Through these lonely offices, ghosts roam. They cling to desks and chairs; lingering in favorite mugs or in forgotten hair ties. A metal file cabinet holding neat rows of clothing, blood-stained jackets abandoned. A whiteboard with stubborn flakes of dried marker, forgotten handwriting clinging to life. These imprints no longer evoke terror or grief or pain. They are as familiar as the bloodstains and tea. Even death, eventually, is familiar. After long enough in a nightmare, it becomes indistinguishable from reality. 

There is nothing unfamiliar in the Magnus Institute.

Nothing save these voices, emerging from nothing. Every one of your six million senses have been cut off - your hundred eyes reduced to none. You are cognizant only of two familiar voices, and one unfamiliar one. A firm hand, with calloused fingers from leafing through aged paper. A creaky desk chair - Martin’s, undoubtedly, always squeaking as he fidgeted in distraction. The air tastes the same as it used to back then, before the AC broke and no repairman would step inside to repair it. Daisy did, eventually. Three familiar voices, rendered unfamiliar by the harsh tides of wind and cruel plastic hands. 

You are afraid of very little, these days. In this world that you’ve built, there is nothing that can harm you. The twisted little puppet strung up in his tower has been long since been disposed of, and the awful and terrifying future has settled into a gentle present. The apocalypse grows tedious after a while, and the buffet of fears start tasting a little samey.

But if anything could frighten you, this would. If anything would petrify you, it would be Tim’s kind smile, which died a year before Tim did. If anything could freeze you to your chair, it would be the sight of Sasha with red-rimmed eyes asking why you never even noticed that she was gone. 

The sanctuary of memory corrupted. A mental place of safety infiltrated. A mind turned inside out, exposing its vulnerable flesh to the world. 

There is nothing else this could be but your own personal hell. 

Your loyal servant crouches on bended knee, giving this final prayer to you. He asks, humbly and with great reverence, one simple question:

Why couldn’t this have waited until after I got my milk?

***

The spell ruptured.

It was almost tangible, like a change in air pressure making your ears pop. Sasha blinked harshly, rubbing at her ears and trying to soothe strange ringing. Tim exhaled heavily and Martin screwed his eyes open and shut harshly, as if he was seeing spots. 

The only person unaffected was Weirdly Christian Jon, who was slumped in Martin’s chair with his arms folded over his chest. He was still looking at the ceiling - speaking to whoever he had been addressing this entire time. 

“Just one day,” Jon was saying. “Just one day! It was going to be a nice day! We had decided to take a day trip to the Flesh garden and have a picnic! My darling and beautiful husband was going to make us a cake! ‘Walk down to the Hell corner store’, my husband says. ‘Pick us up some Eldritch milk’, he says. ‘Why do I have to do it’, I says, ‘I’m in the middle of something’. ‘We need cake for bridge night with the girls and I’ll divorce you if you don’t do it’, he says. I didn’t even change out of my nightmare pyjamas! What did I ever do to you? How are you still upset about the eye thing?”

Sasha and the Assistants, still digesting the extremely disturbing monologue, let him talk. Sasha was caught up in how it felt exactly like Jon’s little drama monologues. Granted, he had obviously gotten a lot more practice - guy could go to Broadway - but the weird lilting and falling sing-songyness was just the same. And he only ever did that for the very weird ones. The ones that they were pretty certain were actually true. 

So that probably meant at one point in the future, if Jon was speaking about the Archives as if they had worked there for years. Probably during the apocalypse. Which was happening. Which Jon had...built? Like, as a personal thing, or in a metaphor for capitalism and the human race? Definitely the capitalism thing - Jon was prone to flights of filing-induced passion that sometimes accidentally resulted in a stapler flying and punching a hole through the wall, but she couldn’t even imagine him even purposefully punching someone, much less being the Antichrist. Unless it was one of those things that just happened to you, like a rare genetic defect. 

“Seriously. What was the alternative here? Endless horrorterrors, everybody screaming all the time? It was boring. You eat one Statement about somebody standing in line at a slaughterhouse conveyor belt and you’ve eaten them all. I didn’t do it because I didn’t like you, although for the record I don’t. But you have to admit that having Eldritch Lidls are much more practical than just having a bunch of people lying around screaming all the time. It’s not as if I don’t have other eyes, I hardly miss them. There’s no chocolate cakes in the swirling vortex of mankind’s worst nightmares!”

Okay. They had to find a way to engage with this guy. He was completely ignoring them, probably because he thought that they were mean ghosts. Sasha was only one of those things, and it was hurting her feelings. Judging from the expression on Tim’s face he was thinking the same thing. 

Or - wait, Sasha knew that eyebrow. That was the ‘please please please tell the apocalypse has zombies’ eyebrow. Great. 

But Martin was just looking thoughtful again. Sasha was pretty proud of him - it was probably very difficult for the poor man to remain coherent in the face of the crazy time-traveller who was definitely hotter than their already objectively unfairly hot boss. 

“Jon,” Martin said, cutting Jon’s tired rant about how eggs benedict were much better these days, “Uh, I have an idea? Maybe you can’t get out of the - nightmare by bargaining with it. Do you know how to normally escape these things?”

Jon angled his head down and frowned in Martin’s direction. So far Martin seemed to be the only person who could shut Jon up, which was a hilarious turnaround from normal life. Sasha hadn’t heard anything about Martin being a sad little ghost, but it was hard to believe that Martin was a survivor in the zombie apocalypse. 

“You go through the statement and you walk through it,” Jon said, in a very ‘duh’ kind of way. “Give the statement, highfive corpses, whatever.”

“Right, right.” Martin wrung his hands, biting at his lip. “So maybe it’s like that. Maybe instead of asking to be let out - you just have to walk through it. Like - like it’s a maze. Does that make sense? I’m not sure, it’s just an idea.”

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Right as always, Martin.” Everybody’s jaw dropped, and Martin squeaked. “Fine, fine. Let’s...interact with the evil ghosts.” Jon gestured out with his arms, in a very ‘come at me bro’ gesture. “Go ahead and shoot. Hit me with how much you hate me and how disappointed you are that I never amounted to anything and started the apocalypse.”

Finally! Interrogation time! 

But before Sasha could finally find out if global warming had killed the world, Tim jumped in. “Are there zombies in the apocalypse?!” Tim cried, way too excited. “Is it like the Walking Dead? Or is it more Last of Us?”

Jon squinted in Tim’s direction. “Define zombie.”

“...hunger for human flesh, shambling, gross looking?” Tim rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t seen any zombie movies.”

“I’m omniscient, I’ve seen every zombie movie,” Jon lied blatantly. “I just think that you’re - you know, stereotyping. Sometimes people are the undead and eat humans and they’re - they’re very normal people.”

“Yeah, Tim, be sensitive,” Sasha said gleefully. She put the tape recorder on Martin’s desk, deciding that she would definitely need a transcript of this interview later. Also maybe ask more questions about that omniscient thing, but she was sure Jon was just exaggerating. If you asked Jon today if he was the smartest person on Earth he’d probably say yes. Jon wasn’t even the smartest person in the room.

For good measure, she drew out her little notebook from her pencil skirt pocket, flipping through it looking for a clean page. “The Archives have never gotten a time traveller before. This is unprecedented in its history.” Well, she really didn’t know what Gertrude had gotten up to, but she dearly hoped it wasn’t this. “Do you have any warnings? Desperate messages from a ruined world, that kind of thing?”

“I’m not a time traveller,” Jon said flatly, “so no.”

Everybody stared at him in abject pity.

“Mate,” Tim said sympathetically, “it’s 2015. You’re a time traveller.”

“No, I’m in a pocket hell dimension in a period beyond time and space,” Jon corrected arrogantly. “Time travel doesn’t exist.”

“The apocalypse exists but time travel doesn’t exist?” Martin cried. “That’s so unfair! Like, give us something, you know?”

“Your life is very hard,” the extratemporal reject said. 

Typical Jon. A classic case of time travel and here he was denying it. Sasha crossed her arms, upset that they were wasting time debating temporal physics when they could be talking about zombies. She was a historian and had priorities. “Your denial ain’t cute, mate. You’re just wasting all of our time.” Jon opened his mouth, but Sasha steamrolled over him. “You want evidence, right? Do you need to, like, touch my face? Make sure that I’m not a sexy ghost?”

“That’s a stereotype that nobody actually does,” Jon said. 

“Insensitive as always, Sasha,” Martin condemned. 

“How else are we going to prove it to him?” Sasha said, somewhat defensively. “It’s not as if we have any evidence that we’re not sexy ghosts.”

With utmost care and incredible gentleness, Tim reached out an open hand and gently smooshed it into Jon’s face.

Jon slumped in his seat, arms folded, unimpressed. 

“No mortal who is not my darling husband has dared to touch me since I became the Antichrist,” Jon said.

“I don’t know,” Tim said, withdrawing his hand and looking at Sasha. “What’s more unbelievable: Jon as the Antichrist or Jon with a husband?”

“Jon’s gay?” Martin cried, face beet red. “Gay Jon? Gay Jon real?”

“So, like, how do you get the Antichrist gig?” Sasha asked as she silently passed Tim a fiver. Her queerdar had never been so wrong. “Is it like an adventurer quest you can do or would you call it more of a rare genetic disorder thing?”

“Definitely rare genetic disorder.”

“Then does that mean that our Jon also has the Antichrist gene?” Tim asked, alarmed. “You’d never think so just looking at him! It’s always the quiet ones.”

“No, this makes sense,” Martin said.

Tim stared at him. “So, is that, like, a negative for you, or a positive…?”

Martin’s silence was incriminating. 

“It’s a positive,” Jon said helpfully, startling everyone. They had conveniently forgotten not to talk about one very horny man’s very horny crush in front of sad grumpy time travelling crush. “He’s into it.”

“Wow, Jon,” Tim said, “what would your husband say?”

In a completely pointless show of sass, Jon rolled his eyes. “My useless husband is likely much more concerned with how I managed to get trapped in a nightmare dimension on my way back from the Hell corner store.” He waved a hand absently. “So, if we can hurry this up? Get started on the whole torturing me thing? Right now you’re just on track to annoying me to death.”

“We annoy you to death now!” Tim exclaimed, as Martin’s eyes boggled. “Isn’t that more proof for the time traveller theory?”

“It wasn’t annoying,” Jon said curtly. “I secretly enjoyed it. I always felt a little bad that I wasn’t included. Or wouldn’t let myself be included.”

That, abruptly, made everyone feel a little bad. Not guilty, seeing as Jon neither wanted nor deserved their affection, but just kind of bad. Future Jon didn’t seem any happier than regular Jon. Sasha liked to imagine that if she was trapped in an indeterminate period in time and space in a post-apoc hellscape, she’d at least be having fun.

Everybody looked at each other, equally a little uncomfortable. Tim was the one who finally took control of the situation, as the self-appointed Jon & Everyone Else mediator. He had taken up the mantle years ago and worse it with pride, and occasional exhaustion. 

“Look,” Tim said, as reasonably as possible. “Let’s just say, hypothetically, this was super cool and awesome time travel. Let’s also say maybe this was completely baller and you’re from a post apoc future where everyone wears leather.”

“That’s just Melanie.”

“Put it down as one person who wears leather in the future!” Tim cried, and Sasha obediently jotted it down.”But let’s just put all of this in a hypothetical situation where you aren’t...uh, in a bad dream? So would there, hypothetically, be a way to stop the apocalypse or something?”

Jesus christ. What a try-hard. 

Sasha crossed her arms, glaring at Tim. From next to her, Martin looked just as peeved. “Seriously, dude? Like we can just up and stop capitalism?”

“I don’t want responsibility for stopping the apocalypse,” Martin protested. “I can barely navigate the bus system. What if the Terminator comes after my mother or something?”

“You’ll be a bit better off, frankly,” Jon said. Martin nodded, conceding the point, before looking faintly disturbed. 

“But he said that he caused it,” Tim protested. “Maybe the power of friendship can fix this? I mean, the apocalypse is cool, but I feel like this is the part where we’re all badasses and we fight evil or something.” Tim’s eyes widened. “That’s what the Magnus Institute is for. To stop the apocalypse!”

“Every day I feel a slight sense of emptiness due to my internalized guilt about your death, but you are usually wrong about things,” Jon said flatly, which seemed to both perk Tim up and depress him slightly. “And no. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no one event that precipitated the apocalypse; no rules of engagement. You are puppets on strings, indulging in the fantasy of free will. Yes, Sasha, the apocalypse is capitalism.”

Everybody stood in slightly depressed silence over this. Sasha, personally, was a little relieved. She really didn’t have to deal with the whole ‘preventing the apocalypse’ thing. She’d rather spend the finals days of the world in hedonism, frankly. 

Really, the unique providence of the millennial was to live your entire life half-way convinced you were in the twilight years of the world. This hedonism and apathy was second nature. Or maybe the apathy was a Leitner - Sasha had lost track of that too. 

“Aw, man,” Martin said, summarizing the abstract and complex feelings deftly and succinctly. “This sucks.”

“Yeah, this blows,” Tim agreed. “So should I buy my muscle car now, or later, or what?”

Then Martin and Tim started arguing over fuel efficiency in the apocalypse, and Jon royally checked out of the conversation. Sasha imagined that he was internally having a bit of a Saving Private Ryan moment where flashbacks of bombshells exploded behind his eyelids or whatever the fuck. The important thing is that everyone was distracted, and Sasha could finally check up on their most important gambit of the day: making sure Jon wasn’t bothering them. 

Sasha listened carefully for the sounds of Jon’s little theater monologues, and caught only faint hints of sound. She slipped past everyone into the hallway and approached Jon’s office door, pressing her ear against the cheap wood. But she didn’t need to worry: he was still reciting away, oblivious to the actual interesting shit that was happening outside his door. Jon was a delicate plant, you couldn’t stress him out too much or he would die. Hopefully Martin’s drugged tea would kick in soon -

But Antichrist Jon’s head jerked towards her, directly behind him, and Sasha saw his unfocused green eyes fixate directly on her. No, not on her - on the door, or something beyond it. For just a second, his eyes flared a sharp and toxic green. 

“There you are,” Creepy Jon hissed. 

Well, sorry for leaving rooms without telling him, but she hadn’t thought that he even noticed, much less got resentful about it. But Weird Jon was standing up with no hesitation, and effortlessly swerved around Martin’s desk and stalked into the hallway. For the first time, his expression looked a little dangerous. It was bizarre and off putting, like seeing a ragged yet murderous two meter kitten. 

He reached out an arm and let it trail across the wall, stopping short when he felt it hit wood instead of plaster. Tim and Martin surged forward to stop him, yelling warnings, but Sasha quickly stepped back. She never impeded the timeless march of science and progress. Sasha had done far worse in Artifact Storage for knowledge. 

Jon brushed his hand down the door until it hit the doorknob and angrily twisted it, heaving the door open with unnecessary force. Tim and Martin spilled into the hallway as Angry Jon stalked inside, and Sasha eagerly hung in the door frame for a front row seat into the drama. 

“This is your fault,” Jon intoned dangerously, directly in the face of a deathly affronted Jon. 

In the spirit of the First Directive, Sasha heroically stretched out an arm and prevented Tim and Martin from spilling into the office. It was the right call. Jon stalked forward into the office, hair whipping in a nonexistent wind, expression obscured but undoubtedly thunderous, advancing on the terrified Archivist, as -

He tripped over a chair left carelessly in the center of the office, rocketing forward to land flatly on his face. 

Beside her, Martin went white as a sheet. “Oh no.”

Simultaneously, in complete and total unison, Jon and the Archivist yelled, “Martin!”

****

Jon and the Archivist sat across from each other, exuding waves of pure mutual hatred.

Tim had quickly helped the Archivist up, moving the chair forward and getting him situated there. The Archivist’s mood was not improved by any of this. Which was difficult enough to handle by itself, if manageable. Sasha knew how to manage grumpy time travelling blind Antichrists who had gotten lost on their way to the corner store.

She even knew how to handle their boss, who was extremely grumpy about being harassed by a random homeless person with nice hair. Jon hated statement givers at the best of times, much less seemingly homeless ex-corpses. Or, well, Sasha didn’t know if he was an ex-corpse, but he was certainly an animate one. 

They were both being so annoying about it Sasha was trying to determine if she should change their nicknames to something more derogatory. Thing 1 and Thing 2? Too long. 

Both of them were very grumpy about the fact that Martin had pushed aside the chair for guests in front of Jon’s desks when he deposited the drugged tea, accidentally moving it close to the center of the office. Jon had known this because he saw it happen. The Archivist had known this because he, apparently, knew Martin very well. 

Today had really been a bonding experience with Sasha, Martin, and Tim. Their skill at silent communication had reached borderline telepathy. They all looked at each other significantly as the Jons were caught in their mutual dyad of hatred, silently commiserating over the fact that their one goal had been spoiled by the greatest wildcard of all. Sasha privately liked to consider herself somewhat of a wildcard, but she was depressingly aware that the entire Archive team was composed of wildcards. Maybe that’s why half of them didn’t survive the apocalypse. 

It was a little unlikely that Jon was a survivor/instigator in the zombie apocalypse, actually. Dude definitely would have bit it if he wasn’t cheating with Antichrist powers. Now, if Sasha had Antichrist powers, this whole game would be looking very different -

“Boss, this is a statement giver,” Tim hinted desperately, hands clenched so hard on the back of the Archivist’s chair that his knuckles were turning white. “Remember what Elias said about statement givers? About how we can’t harass them?”

“I was in the middle of a recording and this man was unnecessarily confrontational,” Jon said crisply. Sasha caught her eye jumping frantically back and forth between the two, trying to reconcile them. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Martin’s horny surety, she wouldn’t have realized that they were the same person at all. The Archivist’s most defining attribute was his big and fluffy hair, and Jon was sadly lacking in the nice hair department. That fade and twists were the shackle around his ankle. So was the sweater vest, baggy tweed jacket, and ill-fitting.“He’s lucky I’m not throwing him out.”

Martin, who looked as if he was having his tenth gay crisis of the morning, didn’t seem to hold the same opinion, but he was king of bad taste anyway. 

“Remember what Elias said about harassing confused, blind statement givers? Remember that? Boss?”

Jon looked confused. “He didn’t specify the community of people with disabilities.”

“It was implied? Jon?”

“The optics would be terrible,” Sasha said, before snickering. Martin stomped on her foot. She stomped on his back, which definitely hurt a lot more. “Look, Jon, sorry about all of this. He was just - uh - really insistent that he talk to you -”

“I think if our visitor hassles Jon then maybe, objectively, you can say that Jon brought it on himself,” Martin said, in a daring show of anti-Jon sentiment.

This act of subtle rebellion was the first thing that broke the Archivist out of his cycle of hatred. He threw out a hand, bowling over Jon’s desktop cup of pens and sending them tumbling over the desk. Sasha saw him specifically orient his hand to do so. “Thank you, Martin! Your understanding of paraphysics is always immaculate.”

“Wow, really?”

“Stop complimenting my assistants,” Jon hissed, frantically diving to save his pens. “And stop - gesticulating over my desk! You did that on purpose!”

“Harassing the blind, Jon!”

“You don’t even need to tearfully blame me for how I ruined your life,” the Archivist said flatly. “You existing in my vicinity is torment enough.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” Sasha said, before pausing a beat. “I meant the first part, ha ha ha, obviously -”

“This man is a very normal statement giver who will be leaving any minute now,” Martin jumped in, “so there’s really no reason for us all to fight, when you think about it -”

“If you all don’t get out of my office, you are all fired -”

“You are listening.”

Everybody stopped talking at once, staring at the Archivist. He was still staring intently ahead, straight into his counterpart. Jon was hiding it, quite badly, but he was unsettled. He hadn’t even acknowledged that he and the man looked alike - the thought undoubtedly running through his brain and soundly dismissed - but it was clearly rattling him. But there was something else that was scaring him too - maybe the Archivist’s green eyes, so foreign from his own brown? His intense and furious expression, like cut glass? The particularly strange and heavy feeling in the air, prickling down the back of Sasha’s neck?

He hadn’t even stopped the recorder. 

“You are here,” the Archivist continued calmly. “You were listening in. Why you were listening in on him, and his regurgitated aftertaste of Statements, I do not know. I felt you, and I came to you. We cannot forsake each other. Do not hide yourself from me.”

The effect was immediate. 

The Archivist’s neck snapped forward, so harshly he cracked his head on Jon’s desk. Strangely enough, Jon screamed too, holding a hand to his temple as if he was suddenly pierced by a blinding headache. Tim immediately bent down to check on Archivist, making sure that he hadn’t hurt himself, as Martin bustled around the desk to check on Jon. Jon batted his hands away, scowling, so he was just fine. But the Archivist didn’t groan, or stir, or moan. He just lay there, still and limp, and when Tim shook him he didn’t even tense. 

The air was heavy, a tang of metal in her mouth like the crackle before a storm, and Sasha couldn’t fight a shiver. But she couldn’t take her eyes off Jon, either: the way he stared at the Archivist, hand on his forehead, eyes wide and growing wider. 

“Dad…?”

When the Archivist stirred, the spell was broken, and Jon’s mouth snapped shut so quickly it was as if he had never spoken at all. He turned his head and moaned, eyes opening uselessly. They were back to their usual toxic green, no flaring or flashing. 

“Mar’in? Where…”

“I’m here,” Martin said quickly, and ducked around the desk to grab the Archivist’s hand and squeeze. For just a second, Jon looked a little jealous. Sasha had the sense that Jon had never been mothered than anyone other than Martin and Tim, and the prospect confused and frightened him so much he reacted aggressively to it. “Everything alright? You hit your head.”

“How many eyes?” the Archivist asked weakly. 

“...physically, or functionally?”

But the Archivist just ran his burned hand over his smooth hand, kneading it and feeling the skin. “Still gone. Damn it.” He straightened, grimacing and spitting out a stray tendril of hair out of his mouth. “So it’s true…”

“So what’s true?” Tim asked urgently. “Do you finally believe us about the time travel thing? Because man, I have so many questions -”

He didn’t get the opportunity to say anything. The Archivist reached out a hand, fingers brushing against his shirt, and the Archivist’s hand abruptly clenched on the fabric. Tightly, roughly, the Archivist pulled him down and extended his other arm, and caught Tim in an awkward and lopsided hug. 

Tim carefully straightened him and returned the hug, gracing the Archivist with the patented Perfect Stoker Hug, and the Archivist buried his face in Tim’s shoulder. His chest didn’t heave, and his breath didn’t catch, but the element of desperation was pungent and unmistakable. 

“You were right,” Jon whispered. “We messed it all up.”

“Sure, yeah, totally!” Tim said, clapping the Archivist on the back in a masculine, yet sensitive way. “So, does this mean the zombie apocalypse is totally a-go, or…”

“Sasha,” the Archivist said, and Sasha chose to ignore her own personal distaste for hugs and being touched so she could step forward and hug him too. 

He clutched onto her just as tightly as he had Tim, which surprised her a little. Jon and Tim had probably been best friends in the future, and Sasha couldn’t imagine her and Jon ever truly being close. He respected her as a colleague, but that was probably because Sasha purposefully left her manuscripts around the office and aggressively used as many big words in front of him as possible. Jon had always been an obstacle to her - innocently stupid at best, malicious at worst. To think that he would grip her so tightly…

With meticulous care, the Archivist separated from her. His expression was crumpled, and for the first time Sasha saw something over than aggravation or impatience in Jon’s face. Relaxed and soft, he looked like a different man. No - he was a different man, it was just apparent. The change softened his sharp lines into something a little friendlier; his striking exterior melting into something pretty instead of imposing. 

Slowly, he raised his hand a little to tangle it in her hair. He frowned a little, gently tugging at it and feeling it spring back into place. “So it was curly…like mine…”

A lot of little hints snowballed into one strange and foreign realization. “Do you not remember me?”

“Dolls stole your identity,” the Archivist said apologetically. 

“Like credit card fraud, or -”

“Metaphysically.” He paused guiltily. “I mourned you as an abstract concept?”

“Like I’m every woman in Hollywood?” Sasha screeched, outraged. This was not trans rights. “Alright, royally fuck that. Feel my hair, mister. Full permission to touch it. Feel that? You call that abstract?” The Archivist shook his head, eyes wide, and Sasha gently moved his hand to rest on the top of her head. “Taller than you in eight cm heels, remember? You asked me how I walked in them, and I said -”

“ - Barbie’s Princess Charm School,” the Archivist said automatically, eyes widening. “I do remember.”

Martin clearly waited around to be tenderly embraced, and was disappointed. 

The Archivist stepped away from Sasha, expression creased in furious thought. “So it’s real. So far as anything’s real, I suppose. But I don’t understand how -” the Archivist’s eyes widened, and he snapped his fingers in realization. “The manhole!”

Everybody stared at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said pleasantly, “what is going on -”

“I was walking down the street, and I remember hearing city work!” the Archivist said brightly. “They were doing their monthly ‘clearing the gators out of the sewer pipes’ maintenance! And the Beholding told me that there was an open manhole, and I said oh it’ll be fine, I’m a demigod on Earth, I don’t fall down manholes - and then -”

The door to Jon’s office dramatically crashed open, and everybody jumped straight in the air. Jon, whose office had seen two more incredibly theatrical entrances than usual today, immediately bristled and opened his mouth to earn them all another harassment complaint, before he abruptly shut his mouth. 

It was Elias, their miniature and unspeakably boring boss extraordinaire. He stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the doorframe, suit jacket askew and chest heaving. Had he ran down here?

“Is someone here?” the Archivist asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tim said, stepping forward cautiously. “It’s our boss, Mr. Bouchard. Elias, we’re taking a statement, can we help - ?”

“How did that get here?” Elias asked, voice strangely tense and coiled. “How did you - not even I could -”

“That makes sense!” Martin cried, thumping a fist on his open palm. “Elias wants to time travel just as much as everyone else in the Institute!”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, pathetically behind, “time travel -”

“Did the time traveller sensor alarms in the basement go off?” Sasha asked, surprised. “I thought only Artifact Storage had those.”

“Uh, Mr. Statement Giver, are you okay?” Tim asked, but it was already too late.

The Archivist had turned to face Elias, expression unreadable. Sasha felt that crackle again, weighing down the air, and she saw the Archivist’s hair puff and frizz slightly with a green crackle. His neon green pupils shone again and spun, like an infernal wheel. 

“What’s wrong, Elias?” the Archivist mocked, as energy coursed through him. “Upset that Mama has a new favorite?”

And Sasha saw in that moment that the Archivist, who possessed the most inhuman green eyes she had ever seen, had eyes the same shade as Elias. 

“Oh, man,” Sasha said, “is Elias a time traveller too?”

“Only in the most mundane way. Can’t even get a little bit of special attention, Elias? Sad!” It was second-hand thrilling to watch someone mock their boss, living the dreams of everyone in the room. Even if it was a little weird how much Jon seemed to hate this guy - nobody hated Elias, just like nobody liked him, and nobody had any strong feelings at all besides unpromoted women.

 At the door, Elias’ expression was slack in - amazement? Was amazement the right word? He was staring at Jon as if...words didn’t even describe it. At least in any way that Sasha wanted to think about. 

“Mr. Bouchard, I swear I can explain,” Sasha, who could not explain, said hurriedly. “We found this corpse and we were going to tell you, but -”

But the Archivist cut her off, as if nothing was less important than explaining himself to Elias. “Did you want to know how to stop the apocalypse, Sasha?”

Sasha froze. Martin and Tim did too. Jon, who nobody had actually bothered to brief since he was kind of the fifth most important person in the room, dropped his pen. “Uh,” Sasha said, sweating. For the first time she understood the possible upsides of not knowing something. “I mean, if I have to, but you said that it was inevitable -”

“Oh, yes. But, just once every one or two centuries, a man comes along who fancies himself fate.” The Archivist raised a hand, eyes spinning and spinning, as Elias stood frozen in the doorframe. “I’ll be honest, Jonah. This isn’t to save the world. That’s so last year. I just really fucking hate you.” Something cracked in the air. “Ceaseless watcher, smite this -”

The door slammed shut. Sasha heard Elias lock it behind him. They all stood around as footsteps quickly echoed through the Archives, and another door slammed. Which was probably being locked too. 

They stood in silence, the Archivist having clearly heard the slams. He let his hand fall, but the energy didn’t cease crackling around him. He didn’t look resentful or disappointed - just thoughtful. 

“Everything in due time, I suppose. I guess it is pretty unfair to get to smite that man twice,” the Archivist said thoughtfully. “I’ll give someone else a turn.” His mouth twitched wryly. “You know, Sasha, there’s one other way to prevent the apocalypse.”

“Is it work?” Sasha asked tiredly. 

“You may kill the man who arranged the dominos,” the Archivist intoned, before hanging his head towards a petrified Jon. “Or you may kill the man who toppled them over.”

Sasha stared at Jon. Jon stared back, frozen like a deer in headlights.

Martin silently passed Sasha a penknife from Jon’s desk. 

“I’m very qualified for this job,” Jon protested weakly.

“Queen of feminism, I very much support you,” Tim said quickly, putting himself in between Sasha and Jon in a heroic display of stupidity, “but, maybe, killing your boss to take his job, is perhaps, maybe not that much of a great idea, just a thought?”

“The job’s being the Antichrist,” the Archivist pointed out, crossing his arms. 

“The direct action against sexism, xenophobia, and transphobia is very admirable,” Tim said, eyes held up as if he was placating a tiger, “but think of it this way - if you kill the Antichrist, then you become the Antichrist, like in - uh -”

“Pokemon,” Martin volunteered. 

Tim snapped his fingers. “Pokemon! So you shouldn’t -” He halted, turning back to Martin. “Pokemon? Seriously? That’s becoming champion -”

“A - alright, alright! Everybody stop!” Jon shakily stood up, brushing aside the empty tea mug right next to him. “That’s enough of all of this! I may not know what’s going on, or who this man is, or why he looks like me -”

“Hm,” Martin said, eyeing the empty tea mug. 

“ - why he looks like a homeless person, why he barged into my office and insulted me, why you are all defending this atrocious behavior, why you are calling it the work of time travel, which does not exist and you have no proof for it anyway -”

“Jon,” Martin said, watching Jon’s arm tremble, “maybe you should -”

“Shut up, Martin!”

“Don’t be rude to him!” the Archivist snapped. 

“You’ve been rude to him twice today!”

“I’m allowed to be rude to him! He’s even ruder to me! I’m the nice one!”

“ - and you were glowing in my office, which is just frankly rude,” Jon continued viciously, steamrolling over the Archivist. “You gave me a terrible headache, you hugged my assistants very inappropriately for the workplace, you made my boss walk in before trying to smite him, you encourage violence against my own person in revenge for a job that I definitely deserve -”

Both of Jon’s arms were shaking, and Tim’s eyebrows were slowly raising. “Boss, you should sit down, I think -”

“ - I want an explanation!” Jon yelled, slamming the desk. “And I’m not going to stop until you tell me what’s going on!”

Then Jon passed out. 

Everybody watched it happen. Everybody, save perhaps the Archivist, had noticed that it was about to happen: at first a tremor, then a shake, and then a final collapse. Like a marionette with his strings cut, Jon slumped over and crumpled solidly on the floor. 

Everybody stood in disaffected silence. Martin carefully stepped over and prodded Jon with his foot. “Out cold.” He shot a considering gaze at the empty tea mug. “Sorry, guys. Looks like I accidentally used the delayed action sedative.”

"It’s alright,” Tim said magnanimously. “At least that problem is solved now. Maybe we can convince him this was a bad dream when he wakes up.”

“If he insists it was real, we’ll just ask him for evidence and refuse to believe him without it,” Sasha suggested. 

“Isn’t that kinda gaslighting?” Martin asked. “Isn’t that, you know, a little morally dubious -”

“You did drug him,” Tim pointed out.

“I mean, hardly the first time?”

“Maybe Martin should be the Antichrist,” Sasha said thoughtfully.

The Archivist’s face was doing something extremely interesting, yet inscrutable.

“I really don’t want to be Antichrist, though,” Martin said apologetically. “Does it even pay?”

“Jon did say it was a job…” Sasha said, already considering herself in the role. “Do you guys think I’d be sexier as the Antichrist? Be honest.”

“Yes and completely,” Tim said immediately, before realizing that he said that too quickly. “I mean. I’d never objectify you. I respect women. But -”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Martin said, throwing up his hands. “When you think being the Antichrist is kind of hot it’s normal and M/F of you. But when I do it, then it’s ‘gross’ and ‘get that away from me’. Great double standards, guys.”

“It’s not the fact that it’s a guy,” Tim protested, “it’s the fact that it’s Jon -”

“Oh, when you think being the Antichrist is kind of hot then it’s normal and cis of you,” Sasha said heatedly, “but when Tim respects trans women, then it’s ‘gross’ and -”

“I respect all women,” Tim said, equally heatedly, “but I do want to acknowledge the systematic marginalization of trans women within the community, especially trans women of color like yourself -”

A hoarse wheeze echoed through the office.

Everyone froze, terrified by the haunted sound, but after a second Sasha realized it was the Archivist - Jon - who was laughing. 

They had never heard him laugh before. He was practically wheezing with it, bent over with his hands on his knees, with a strained cackle that fizzed with static around the corners. He was smiling broadly, his grin splitting his cheeks, for the first time that Sasha had ever seen. 

He straightened and threw his head back and laughed too, a greater belly-laugh that was so hysterical and fragile and free that it struck something strange and raw in Sasha’s heart. He rubbed his face with his hand, still laughing, and eventually broke into coughs. 

“I understand now,” Jon said, when he stopped coughing. “I thought that you had deposited me here in revenge. You had sensed that I was happy - that the green skies were beautiful, that your large eye seemed kind that day - and that you found it a waste of emotion. But that wasn’t true, was it? It must have been an accident. I’ve never been happier to hear these idiots arguing, and you’ve lost me like a toy behind a bookshelf. The strange stupidity of it! I’m enchanted.” He sombered a little, expression falling from hysterical glee into a soft and resigned happiness. He held up his hand, feeling the crackle of electricity run across his palms. “But you See me now. The foolish man brought you down upon us, and I intercepted your lightning bolt. His eyes, mundane and paltry, are closed, and you feel my consciousness in replacement of him. I can feel you already - my Eyes opening, the Reality that we built together calling me back. When your infinite grace re-aligns with every one of my atoms, forming the fabric of my world, I’ll snap back.”

Just like that?

Sasha had thought that there would be an...adventure, or quest, or something. At least a research binge. Some kind of heroic group effort. But the Archivist was a stretched rubber band, held tightly and out of position, and after long enough straining against its center it had to snap back. A telly flickering in and out, blaring the song of a dead channel. 

“Do we have time to group hug or something?” Tim offered weakly, undoubtedly thinking the same thing as she was. “Last goodbyes? Anything?”

“Howl’s Moving Castle moment?” Martin asked urgently. “I’ll find you in the future, right? We’re still together there, right?”

“Martin,” Jon said, strangely fond, “we were never apart.”

Martin turned a unique shade of red. 

But it was Sasha who Jon turned to, face angled to the sound of her voice. His expression was still distantly fond, but there was something strange in it too - a wry recognition, a subtle knowledge, a faint recollection of a joke that only he knew. 

“Sasha,” Jon said, “so long as you’re brave, and buy ten fire extinguishers and hide them around the office, things will be just fine. Buy twelve fire extinguishers, just to be safe. And don’t ever go inside Artifact Storage again. Not even for Alicia’s birthday party. If it’s a choice between worms and Artifact Storage then choose worms, the scars add a certain appeal. I cannot stress enough, not even if you lose your jacket in Artifact Storage -”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to say to me?” Martin asked desperately, almost crying. Sasha, personally, wanted to circle back around to the worm thing. “Sad goodbyes? Waving a handkerchief? I thought you said I was alive? Don’t you have anything?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Goodness, Martin, if you insist. There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. In fact, I do believe it’s about time.” 

Martin’s mind clearly projected very loudly ‘I’ve been in love with you this entire time’ in blatant wish-fulfillment. Everybody held their breaths. 

Jon drew himself up to his full, imposing height, and sternly looked at all of them. “I’m tired of holding my tongue about this, Martin,” Jon said finally, and Martin qualified. “For the last time, I don’t load the dishwasher wrong. I load the dishwasher correctly. It’s you who’s always insisting that the cups go on the bottom. It’s a freakish way to live your life, and I’ll never forgive you for -”

Static blared in Sasha’s ears and overwrote her mind, and she screamed. The sensation was a pickaxe driven into her ears, an unforgivable rip and tear, and she heard her screams echoed in concert. 

Then the pain abated, and was gone. 

Sasha, Tim, and Martin were left standing in an empty office, accompanied only by the unconscious figure of their boss. There was nothing left of the Archivist, nor any suggestion that he had ever been here - just a drained mug, some scattered pens, and a lingering sense of malaise and confusion. 

Everybody looked at each other, feeling strangely and uniquely connected. It was hardly Sasha’s strangest Magnus Institute experience, but maybe it was the funnest. 

“Well,” Tim said finally, “at least one day this week wasn’t boring.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even have to get drunk today.” Sasha sighed. “We definitely have to gaslight Jon about this.”

Martin was already carefully lugging Jon onto his chair, arranging him so his arms were folded on the desk with his cheek resting on his forearm. “We’ll pretend it was just a weird dream.” He propped his hands on his hips, satisfied. “Hopefully this convinces him he needs more sleep.” Martin gasped in sudden realization. “Maybe he becomes the Antichrist because he needs more sleep! Guys, I have a great twenty step plan for saving the world.”

“Oh, come on, we said that was too much work.” Tim shrugged and opened the office door, holding it open and gesturing for them all to come out. “I think if we just friendship Jon to death, all of our problems will be solved.”

Martin just shrugged, following him out. They really did have paperwork that they needed to get back to. “Both are vital components. But...hey, it’s not weird to put the mugs on the bottom rack, is it? There’s not really that much of a difference, right?”

“Mate, you’re a fucking freak.” Tim looked backwards at Sasha, who was still standing in the office, dazed. “Sash, you coming? Let’s go day-drinking.”

“Yeah,” Sasha said, “in a sec.”

He shrugged and left the door propped open, and Sasha heard their bickering fade slowly as they walked down the hallway. 

But she couldn’t help staring at Jon sleeping at his desk, chest falling in and out, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose. His short, carefully maintained hair and meticulous fade. His baggy tweed and ill-fitting slacks. The subtle and shameful kind of earnestness, the desire mixed with fear mixed with hope mixed with genuine desire for a better future. He just wanted to be happy, to not be afraid anymore. He seemed weirdly human, when compared with his inhuman self. Or maybe it was the other way around. 

The tape recorder on Jon’s desk was still running. Sasha squinted at it, taking a second to listen to the staticy hiss. It was familiar, in the strangest possible way. It felt familiar -

Sasha reached out and grabbed the tape recorder, stuffing it in her pencil skirt pocket. “Just remember,” Sasha whispered, “I’d make a great candidate for Antichrist.”

She ran to go catch up with her coworkers, shutting the door behind them and leaving Jon sleeping contentedly in his office, head pillowed on his arms, dreaming strange and comforting dreams.

[jrueships]

Not to be a gremlin buuuuuuut would you care to share your redacted thoughts on trae/John 👀 because I would love to hear them 😳

IMMA BE HONEST ANON.. They're mainly just [redacted] loose random ideas I think with about absolutely NO explanation whatsoever so.. 😭 it's nothing like.. SPECTACULAR but 😳😳 u know like I just can't give u the whole spiel rn 😭

But I'll give random tidbits anyways 😎

Okay so I'll start with like.. the SCENARIO I was thinking about before. So like- 

Trae and John go out clubbing to celebrate a win. They're recently new to the NBA, trae more-so Collins, so they've got a little pride in their win and wanna have fun and get some hotties. But, the win wasn't at home, so most of the people at the club pretty much hated them for beating a team that was supposed to win instead of the hawks. Basically, they get no bitches. 

  And trust me. They did EVERYTHING to get bitches.

Trae would have John go up to women and try and be a good wingman, advertise Trae's attractiveness, Nope. Nada. Trae put in his and John's favorite song. Nobody even wanted to dance with them. It was just John and trae dancing by themselves.. which was fine and all because they usually just dance together anyways, but it Did look a little awkward so… That ended quickly. A lady throws her shoe at them, to which trae keeps because fuck her and her shoe. Now bitch can hobble back home with one barefoot like a crunked up Cinderella 

BUT IN END RESULT, they left the club with no bitches and hurt egos. 

During the drive back to their hotel, Trae complained the whole way. He goes from frustrated to flabbergasted to angry to despairing to annoyed. The whole drive is just him ranting about 'bitches' and how he got none. John keeps pitching in by complaining as well, also showing confusion, equal anger, empathizing, and equal, if not more, Annoyance at the women's denials as well.

And then John says something like "if /I/ was a female, ((we all know how straight men talk yall.)) I'd TOTALLY find you hot, dude!"

   That's when the car gets quiet.

John realizes what he said and quickly tries joking it off, giving a hurried "no homo though!" And laughing nervously. 

Trae starts to laugh and everything is a rushed, awkward fine again. Trae even jokes about it when they park at the hotel, getting out first and opening John's car door for him in mock romance. The charade goes on for a while to lighten things up until the slip up is nothing of serious substance…

A few drinks to drown out their pussyless sorrows and things start to get a little tipsy. Silly drunk conversations conjure while they sit on trae's hotel room bed, but nothing of big talk.. Not until Trae reminds himself about his scoreless night and starts ranting until he gets sad again. Thick brow furrowed, he squinted blurred at the ground and trails his funny gaze up John's physique. He asks something akin to the lines of "hey… remember when you said like… if you were a woman… you'd find me hot?" To which John panics but confirms nonetheless…

Trae goes o h and they sit in awkward silence. They both painfully finish their like. 4th beer of the night. Then trae finally breaks the silence by asking, 

  "So… like.. hypothesis..-ly… hypo...hypocritically-" 

      "Hypothetically ?"

"Yeah. That's what I said. Anyways. Hypothesisly… if you Were a woman.. would you also .. fuck me?"

SO YEAH. THERES MORE TO IT UHH THEY FUCK (DUH) AND THEY BOTH WAKE UP IN THE SAME BED AND PANIC NOT REMEMBERING ANYTHING.. but they find that one shoe the woman threw at them strewn by the door so … of course their straight minds (desperately) convince themselves that they had an EPICLY AWESOME AND HOT threesome with a SMOKING HOT BABE who quickly fled the scene. … And maybe their d*cks mightve touched ONCE and MAYBE trae feels like touching John's ass is far more familiar than he'd like but… THINGS HAPPEN IN THE DARK OK. IT'S HARD TO SEE… 

   In conclusion, they drunk fucked and convinced themselves that they didn't drunk fuck 😭

     But my random weird ideas about them fucking just in general are like…

OKAY OKAY. I know we all love to see short and tall ships.. and the general CONSENSUS is that the taller one is the top but THERES SMTHIN ABOUT THE SHORTER ONE TOPPING THAT IS.. GOOD. OKAY?? So. Yeah. Trae tops LMFAO. HES JUST SO… CLEVERLY ?? SCHEMEY THAT?? He just Is the top ok. THEY CAN SWITCH and john can be the service top to power bottom Trae but.. they have to develop past their straightness for that level 😭 

 BUT ANYWAYS MORE ABOUT TOP TRAE.. he is literally Only hot to John LMFAO. He says and does the cheesiest shit in bed. If he was with anyone else, he'd turn them off by just getting naked down to his batman underwear. But luckily he is with John, his dumbly devoted best friend <3 

More about them in bed tho…

Okay so picture John on the bed getting fucked by Trae standing on the floor because it's too hard for Trae to top with such a height difference LMAO… John is bent on his back and his long legs are hooked over trae's shoulders.. Trae turns his head to kiss his legs all sweet…  John starts to whimper out a moan but then.   Trae puts a finger to his lips and makes a shushing motion like he did to the knicks crowd KABXJS 

Like when trae wants to fuck??? They fuck. In a hotel room with their teammates staying like?? Literally next door? Doesn't matter. They gonna fuck. Just so trae can have the cheesy NERVE of shushing john when their sex is getting too loud. Even though TRAE is the verbal one… 

And by verbal like.. bad porn verbal. Loud obnoxious grunting. Keeps asking John if he likes it. How 'big he is'. Asks how much John Wants it. Then doesn't let John formulate any kind of intelligible response because he's already leaning down to bite the long length of his neck.

SPEAKING OF BITING.. trae is definitely a biter. LMAO… he bites the insides of John's thighs, his neck, the slope of his shoulder, anywhere he can claim his stake, he Claims it. (Even the ass 😭 he's cursed like that man.) Afterwards in the aftercare he trails over his bite marks and kisses them and says smthin stupidly cocky like "you're a work of art and baby I'm your artist"

Trae in general is just a very passionate lover. If he wants John in a different position, he'll PUT John in a different position. Trae wants to do all the work to please John and himself and John just wants to please Trae. Trae will do anything bro. Eating ass, giving or getting (by getting like. Hand on hair Always) the sloppy toppy, having John ride him like. Bro got a fiesty libido.

And John just lets Trae take whatever he wants. He mainly doesn't have the strength to spit out terrible pornstar lines, so he settles for just.. desperately chanting out a slurred series of "bros/dudes/mans/any other term frat bros use to lovingly regale each other in". But yeah. He spends most of his time trying to look at Trae and think about how much he loves him 😭 and how hot he thinks he is right now like this. They're VERY much into looking at each other when having sex, but they weren't at the start though. At the beginning it was a whole "You don't look at me, I don't look at you" deal that was quickly broken when Trae pushed in and they both finally realized how much they want each other so …

ANYWAYS… YEAH.. them being [redacted] together is always like… on the VERGE of being sexy until one of them ruins it somehow (but the other will always find it sexy somehow. The sensible readers just won't 😭). Like if Trae is clapping John's cheeks and they make a funny sound, they're both gonna stop and laugh at how much it sounded like John farted. They're just two stupid guys in stupid love baby!!!! 

[cryptidcutiesstuff]

I’m Stronger than you think!

this is a Bucky x reader thing i decided to write. the story is actually my own OC’s backstory so i would appreciate if you didn’t take any “inspiration” for your own characters :) i just thought people would like to read it through their own eyes :D

in this chapter there isn’t any Bucky unfortunately, its just an introduction to Y/N, but Bucky should appear in upcoming chapters :D 

pairing: Bucky x Reader :) 

chapter 1

warnings: mentioned infertility and adultery

 I met him in Highschool, a nice sweet boy who helped me pick up my books that had been so carelessly pushed to the floor by a blonde haired wannabe. I was always bullied, sometimes for my appearance but mainly for my personality. Now you see being a strong independent woman was not very appealing in the 1930s, but for some reason he didn’t care about that. We went on dates, and eventually fell in love and were a couple for more than 4 years until he popped the big question. I thought everything was fine, I was happy, but apparently he wasn't. And it was because I was infertile, unable to have kids.

That lying son of a bitch! I stomped through the crowded office building in my black heels, angrily walking up to my car ready to drive away from him, how could he do this to me after everything. “Y/N, Please!” I turned around and tore off the chain of metal that was hanging round my neck, throwing it carelessly at the man who I once loved. He bought me that necklace on our first date. I always kept it on me “here! Keep it, or better yet give it to the nice secretary in the office!” I said as tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. 2 years we had been married, I cared for him, stayed at home for him, cooked, cleaned. I was even willing to bear his children if I was able but instead he betrayed me and my trusting nature.

“Y/N, I'm sorry, please forgive me!”  he pleaded, grabbing my hand. I pulled it away from his grip, “how long?” “what?” “how long have you been sleeping with her?” I looked into his eyes, my eyes being full of pain and sorrow. “A year and a half” he weakly stated, breaking eye contact with me. My eyes widened in disbelief, I had been ignorant for nearly the entirety of our marriage. “Why then?” he began to get irritated, curling his hands into a fist, “Joshua! Why?” I repeated. “Because you can't have children!” he shouted at me. I just stood there stunned, that simple sentence stabbed me straight through the heart. I quickly recomposed myself and then spoke up furious and yelled  “yeah. Believe me I know that! It's the one thing I am meant to do as a woman, and I can't do it! And I'm sorry that I can't!”  My outburst seemed to shut the both of us up. “Josh, obviously this isn't working any more, we don't work, so maybe…..maybe it's better that we go our separate ways, I'll stay with a friend temporarily, I'll go get my belongings now.” I said as I turned around, Joshua didn't say anything but watched me get into my car and drive away.

For the duration of the drive I was trying to contain the rest of the bottled emotion that was threatening to spill, I just needed to get to my friends current apartment, Peggy Carter, she was leaving in a few days for the war. When she told me her brother helped her get a place in the war as field agent I couldn't help but have my worries. Women weren't exactly treated well by men, and unfortunately she was going to be surrounded by them. How different things would be if women were respected and treated as a males equal, instead of being sexualised and thought as the “weaker sex”. Pulling my car up on the pavement, I momentarily sat there until I let my head drop onto the steering wheel, unbeknownst to me I slammed my forehead right into the car horn, causing a loud beep to rupture from the vehicle startling me. Clutching my heart I stepped out trying my best to ignore all the staring faces of the civilians around the area while walking over to Peggy’s apartment complex. I ran up to her door knocking on it frantically, she opened it wide not expecting me to be there. She looked at me, eyes softening when she saw my broken expression. “Oh Y/N darling.” her British accent rang through my ears as she invited me in for a hug. The exact moment she placed her head on top of mine was when I broke, I sobbed while she held me tightly, “what's the matter? What happened?”  “ Its Josh, he's been cheating on me for most of our marriage.” I said but I came out as a muffled sob from her shoulder. She pulled away, brushing hair behind my ear. “Oh Y/N, I'm so sorry. Tea and talk?” I sniffled and nodded in agreement as she shut the front door, walked over to the kitchen and placed the kettle over the stove.

When it was done, we began talking about Joshua and how I should have known he was cheating from the strange behaviour, he stayed out late often, didn't kiss me as much and never really wanted to get intimate with me. As the pieces added up I became more frustrated at myself for not noticing it earlier, I could have saved myself the heartbreak of finding him making out with his secretary in his office. I decided to flip through a few newspaper clippings Peggy kept on her kitchen island in an attempt to take my mind off Joshua. ”you could have punched him in the face you know.” Peggy piped up. “I know you're pretty good at a few hand to hand combat techniques courtesy of your father!” I looked up from the small newspaper clipping. “yeah, I know but I didn’t wanna waste my famous right hook on ‘im you know”  We burst out into a fit of giggles at the thought of Joshua on the ground. “You would probably be good at fighting in the war, Y/N.” I gave her the ‘yeah right’ face.

The conversation died down and a peaceful silence covered the room, the smell of the tea helped put my mind at ease a little. “So you’re going to war soon?” I broke the pause. “Yes I am, I'm quite excited actually, I'll be doing field work mostly but I hope I'll be of some help at least.”  I smiled “I’m sure that you’ll be great! it must be fun, I would give anything to go there myself. Maybe beat some sense into those brainless misogynistic pigs.” my smile turned into a smirk as Peggy laughed at my statement. “Well I could always recommend you to the colonel, he's the one that kind of runs the place.” I placed my china teacup down carefully onto its matching coaster. “Thanks for the offer peg, but I doubt they would even let me, a woman, near any tactical equipment.” there was a long pause once again until I made a quick snappy joke “unless I somehow dressed as a guy and infiltrated their army base.” I giggled at the silly thought, however Peggy didn't, I looked over cautiously not knowing if I had pushed any the wrong buttons. That was until I saw the look of determination in her eyes. “Peggy NO!”, “Peggy YES!”. 

“That’s a terrible idea! And what happens if they find out huh? What then?”  I crossed my arms looking at her from across the kitchen island. “By the time they find out it would be too late!”. “No Peggy it ain't happening, they wouldn't let me!” she stood there for a while “fine!” she sat down with a huff and we left it at that. We finished our tea and as the day began to end she walked me to my car, talking about when the war would be over, not knowing what the future would hold. Once I reached my car I threw my coat into the passenger's seat and closed the door for a moment while I gave Peggy a goodbye hug. “Thanks peg I needed that, I'll be on my way to Jacqueline's place, I'm staying there until I can get away from Joshua.” we parted and she gave me a gentle, reassuring smile. “You know that offer is still there.” “what offer?” there was a pause as I tried to remember what we spoke about, a light bulb went off in my head as it clicked. “PEGGY NO!” I stared at her in disbelief. “Y/N, come on, you know you really want to join. I could find someone willing to help you!” I knew she wasn't going to give up on asking me, so I reluctantly agreed. “Fine, you can try.'' I loved Peggy truly. but I unfortunately didn't have much faith that she would help me join the war. “Great! Well I hope you sort everything out with bloody Joshua.” I nodded in agreement and got into my car. I waved Peggy goodbye as I drove to Jacqueline’s ready to announce that I would be having a sleepover for a long while. Little did I know that I wouldn't be staying there for very long.

[marshmallowfin]

Drag Race season 13 first impressions and vibes:

I do this every year and I know no one cares but here are my unwanted opinions.

Kandy Muse: Her reputation proceeds her...in a bad way. I've seen how hateful she can be online and I just can't look past it; I can just tell she's gonna annoy me until she goes home. The look however was cute and the lipsync was fun, I can tell she's talented. I wanna try and view her without bias but it's gonna be tough.

Joey Jay: I was excited for her during the promo but couldn't get past the entrance look. Really? The panty was cut too low cut, the feathers were cheep and falling apart, the hair was supposed to look wet but it just looked a mess, like she didn't have time to dry her hair before coming. Just came across so unpolished and because I only got to to see her for like a collective 15 minutes I was just unimpressed. Lipsync was unimpressive, Kandy really let her have it, the only thing I remember was her punching her tiddie and the feathers falling off all over the stage.

Denali: The look was so right, head to toe, but that contour was so rough it was distracting. She seemed fun, I can see her succeeding. Again, only getting a couple of minutes with her just really left me wanting more, it felt lacking. For someone who was on literal ice skates she was pulling some impressive stunts I honestly thought she might have the lipsync but I'm not mad at the Lala win. I'm honestly just really neutral on her. I did like when she flashed us, it's really the only thing I remember from the lipsync. (Also the repeat song? Hello? Iconic Coco Montrese lipsync from season 5? I clocked it.)

LaLa Ri: The look: pedestrian, didn't fit her in any way and was just so basic it was almost sad. Wish it were a full pant and the jacket was tailored to her. Also not everyone is able to wear those flat little wigs, wish she had teased it up. Her vibes? Her smile? Stunning. She seems so warm and friendly and kind. I want her to succeed but the ONE TIME I got to see her she looked... unimpressive. I don't remember a single think she did in the lipsync not gonna lie...

Symone: fully obsessed during the promo, so beautiful in and out of drag and her sense of style is so interesting to me. Entrence look was a little on the simple side but effective. She's also from the same area is me so I know people who know her and are fully obsessed. One of my tops for sure. The lipsync was good but I really thought Tamish let her have it. Not mad she won but I would have made it a double win. (Maybe after a night of just okay lipsyncs I'm grasping at the only one that made me excited.) Also, nothing to do with her but she's Gigi Goode's sister and Gigi is for sure talented and I really liked her for the majority of her season but she's made some choices in the have been confusing at best; I worry Symone might share some of those opinions. Here's hoping that just my paranoia.

Tamisha Iman: she came across as cookie cutter pageant girl (not that there's anything wrong with that) in her promo so I wasn't really excited for her. Very pleasantly surprised. She walked in in that red power suit and long black hair TIDDIES OUT: I was shaken. She also seems to just radiate good energy, I'm really liking her. She and Symone had the most entertaining lipsync of the night, it felt close (I do think Miss Tamish turned the party a little hard but not enough to call it rigged.) I am a little heartbroken they made her tell her cancer story episode one, immediately after getting there, she killed a lipsync, then was sent on her way, she was amicably calm tho. I really like her.

Gottmik: Another I was SUPER excited for during promos and she's really giving it too me. The look was so interesting and flattering and the face was to die for topped off by that perfect black hair. Dead and in the ground. Lipsync...left much to be desired. The song was a bop and my jaw dropped when it started but neither of them gave me what Rumors deserved. I loved both the queens so much though I almost didn't care...almost. Also FIRST FTM QUEEN EVER ON THE SHOW I'M SO JWBDJDIBEBSKDE AND IM SO HAPPY AND PROUD OF HIM. King shit never been more insane and proud to be cisn't.

Utica Queen: I CAN TELL THIS BITCH IS NEURODIVERGENT AND SO AM I!!! SAME HAT!!! I love a bitch who has a distinct aesthetic and lives on a completely different planet. Her promo look was my favorite, she's so striking and the crazy mad hatter look was EVERYTHING. Entrance look was equally crazy and somehow all worked (maybe not the strawberry but I still loved the strawberry). I thought she was so fun during the lipsync and I couldn't take my eyes off of her (again, that might be because I find her so striking) I honestly thought she would win but again the lipsync as a whole was a little underwhelming. Her sad face at the end of the episode broke my heart, this premier was a little cruel to the losers.

Rosé: not gonna lie, I was disappointed in Rosé. Her look was so crazy and cool for the promo and she came into the competition wearing a pink cropped biker jacket and panty? (The look was cute enough and I like the designer but it was so meh) The hair was lovely and I thought the missing tooth was funny, it was a shame she wiped it off before anyone could see it. I totally understand being bitter about hyping yourself up as a LIPSYNC QUEEN and a major nyc girl and so established especially compared to someone like Olivia who has only be doing drag for a year and a half..then you lose...and you assume you're going home first...I TOTALLY GET IT but the edit worked on me and I was like wow what a bitch. The only person who has claimed to be nyc royalty I actually vibed with was Peppermint, I think it's like an instant turn off for someone to say they're the best whatever of nyc. (Not that I dislike nyc girls, just the ones that claim to be hot shit.)

Olivia Lux: Sweet summer child. Precious baby angel. I found her so cute and charming and silly in her promo and she came in in that VELVET (?) HALF PINK HALF YELLOW GOWN WITH THE ROUGING and that BEAUTIFUL blonde hair that looked so good again her sink and the long as ponytail and the fucking waves like a designer Barbie fresh out the box, I'm living. Another one of my favorites, the energy is just so right and so there. Had my 2nd favorite lipsync of the night and I was so proud of her for besting Rosé, someone she clearly looks up too so much. I would LOVE for this bitch to win but I can tell she's gonna be a Miss Congeniality.

Tina Burner: I can tell this one is gonna annoy me. Again a nyc royalty claim which is an instant minus, the look was not it (I love the designer but the look was so wrong), the hair hat was fun in concept but that red hair just didn't look right on her, she was definitely giving me sexy hotdog ketchup and mustard fantasy, and I don't know why but her face is just kinda scary to me?? It like makes me feel like I'm going crazy. I didn't really like her in the promos either, she just comes across as really full of herself. I'm like instantly getting the worst vibes. I have seen people online saying she's really funny and turns the fucking party but I found the lipsync boring and hard to pay attention too. I've seen so many people saying she's IT so I want her to prove me wrong, make me eat my hat.

Kahmora Hall: So insanely beautiful, a WOMAN, how DARE SHE. She's our current reignings sister so she has huge shoes to fill and I'm ready for her to fill them. I actually kinda liked her lipsync, she was doing the damn thing in a gown which is impressive. Wish I had gotten a little more of her. I'm sorta neutral on this one too, nothing from her promo or literal 15 minutes if screen time really impressed me nor turned me off of her.

Elliott with 2 Ts: The second she said she was a "housewife with a secret" I was sold. Something about that instantly endeared her to me and have not been able to stop saying it since. I thought the red two piece was nice and the cropped jacket was fun but the hair was not right. I find her so pretty in like an alien way. I honestly thought her lipsync was the best and I found myself drawn to her but it's so hard to tell with more then 2 people. Promo look was very like cool mom and I vibe.

As a whole...a very underwhelming premier, especially after the last seasons. Seemed really rushed and unnecessarily cruel to the losing girls. Especially telling them they're all going home then saying they're not but they need to choose one queen from them to go home...I'm so worried they're all gonna take one look at Utica and be like 'get this weirdo out of here', if a single person picks her to "go home" I'll scream and cry and piss on the floor.

[rurifangirl]

ayo a few oc asks🤩

shoe/qiran🌸

Would they get a pet? What kind? Who brings up the idea, and who takes a little longer to convince?

kida/sum fuckin self control🌸

When would they say “I love you?” Do they say it first? Do they say it often, or is it reserved for special moments?

kayn/ruri🌸

They’re going through something incredibly difficult—perhaps they’re very sick, have lost a loved one, or have gone through a traumatic event. Do they ask for or accept support and care from their partner, or try to isolate themselves?

lyva/myst🌸

They have to apologize to their partner. Is this difficult for them? How do they approach it?

Shoe(<3)/Qiran-

Honestly, yes. Absolutely. I feel like they both would've brought up the idea but like, w different animals, so If anything It was more of a "competition" of who would get the other to buy the animal they want.

Shou wants a snake for ahem SOME reasons n Qiran wanted an Otter.

Though in the end they both don't end up buyin a pet they still brag sometimes bout theirs being better than the others animal.

Like just going "While I do think an otter would be somewhat of a pleasent accompaignon, I still think that-" "'WHA IS THE UTILITY OF A SNAKE IF WE 'READY HAVE YA???(affectionate)"

Kida/sum fucking self control-

Absolutely sum fucking self control, Kida would be probably be silent about It and would rather not give In too much. 😔

Kayn/Ruri-

Oh boy, so Imma go through first the sick scenario n then the more personal one.

Kayn's the most personal aware of both his n Ruri's limits so he can understand whenever he has to being cared of, even if because of a silly reason. Mind you he'd still try his best even in a physically sick state n would actually kinda get angy at Ruri, for overtime stuff while he's unable to help him.

He'll just be trying to stop him n that he's doin enough, but 90% of the time he won't.

Just, the image of a bitch takin care of his big bb overall, but them complainin cuz "you also need to take care of u >:[" scenario.

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

While in Ruri's case, I've seen this happening especially when he first got released that for context since ya don't know either, Ruri was basically destroyed. Like couldn't do any basic stuff, so Kayn had to basically become his babysitter.

He tollerated it but hated being powerless or seemin weak especially in front of someone like Kayn. Kinda rebelled sometimes w bein helped, but he has a soft spot for him, so in the end it's similar to what he does w him.

Kinda wanna do this last scenario since I've got an idea for It for a long time, so it's gonna be more developed there.

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

Now this Is separated from the rest, but longstory short they both have great difficulty w trying to help the other in these events. Aside from the Osho trauma they can both help and relate with, for the losses or for any other traumatic event they've been in, they tend to yes show the other that they're here either by physical contact (in kayns case) or being straight-foward and offering emotional support (in ruris case).

Though w Kayn it's more natural askin for help, Ruri would rather isolate, and for a very long time. He wouldn't even let him stay in so it wouldn't look good on both of them. And considering this has happened many times, yeah. We can't really blame him either, he still had greater difficulty with relationing w basically anyone, even if we're talking about Kayn. Like yeah, this sucks, but can we really blame someone who never had any time to develop and getting to understand n adknowledge their mistakes? Yeah I don't think so.

If it's somethin small however both would ask help for eachother so they're cool on that. Let them hug you bitches.

I think I'm sayin enough on this N NO IT'S NOT CUZ IM EXTREMELY ATTACHED TO EM ALRIGHT, I CARE FOR MY CHILDREN EQUALLY😡 (/j)

Lyva/Myst-

The comic im workin on kinda touches on this, but I'm gonna go further onto It. For instance, Myst Is probably the one that Is the first to forgive n Lyva havin some difficulty with telling him what she's feeling. They both had Little moments when this happened until now but still,they cannot get onto too soon nor too nicely.

Like yeah Myst would get over It in like one/two days, but as for Lyva she needs a lot of more time go come to understanding one another. Idk if I have to Say more onto this so in case send me and ask jejfhjed

Tags undercut:

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @dopesaladlady @nadi-117 @audre-falrose

[ohshitmomitsawritingblog]

I’m a shy bean! So seeing you’ve put anon on this, actually made me squeal 😳 thank you! Could I get a head cannon of the founding trio with a S/O who is a super powerful shinobi. God level powerful, to the point if she walks into a battle fields the opposing side will straight up submit/retreat at the sight of her 😂 but at home she’s the most loving person and dotes on them? Like she’s so gentle with them. Need fluff! So much fluff and laughs 😂 thank you and I think your work is amazing!

Aww thank you! I’ll try my best to give you some good fluff and silliness. And please don’t be shy!!! I don’t bite 💙🥺

Tobirama

Tobirama’s wife is as cold and as cunning as her husband. She’s a brutal commander, willing to cut her loses if she sees a battle going south. She is all cool glares, with a calm, commanding voice to match.

In the field, she doesn’t even seem close or dotty on her husband, despite their early love-marriage.

Oh god, Tobirama knows she’s got her warriors played to hell and back.

His wife is just as smart as he is. Perhaps even more capable, physically, than he is. She’s also a worrywart, and a bit of a spazz behind closed doors and muffled tent flaps.

She pecks over Tobirama’s appearance when away from the safe walls of their home almost constantly. He scoffs and grumps, but she persists with some chilly words.

She asks if he’s healthy, if he’s sleeping well, running her fingers over his shoulders or through his hair as if examining him, but Tobirama knows it’s just her way to touch without looking soft in front of their men.

At home, she drops her cold demeanor and nakedly demands his attention as often as she can.

It’s not always obnoxious - her face pressed to his back as he writes, or her body pressed to his side as he studies.

Other times, she pulls on the sleeve of his yukata, almost childish in the way she silently begs for a shred of his time.

Despite not having to, as the wife to the second son of the Senju line, but she cooks and cleans almost daily when they’re home. It’s to keep herself busy, she says, although Tobirama suspects it’s one of her many ways of showing her love for him.

When he’s totally consumed by his studies, Tobirama may wake up to small notes from his S/O, reminding him to wash his face or to stretch his legs. He’d be lying if he didn’t find the notes unnecessary, but cute.

Hashirama

Oh god, Hashirama loves his S/O so much.

Honestly, it’s not every day anyone, let alone a woman, could even come close to Hashirama’s level. It’s kind of exciting for our boy Hashi.

Despite the thrill of a rare equal however, Hashirama also just enjoys his S/O’s insistence on staying tender hearted once the armor comes off.

She’s a tender woman, Hashirama’s wife. She dots on the clan’s children, often watching a horde of them despite her high position exempting her from such duties. She even helps the elderly members, including people from branch families, with their tasks. Everyone insists she focus on tasks meant for the head’s wife, but she just can’t help it!

With Hashirama, she’s an understanding ear, shoulder to cry on, and confidant. Few understand the burden that raw power brings in the ninja world, and fewer still aren’t quick to judge their fellows.

She braids or brushes Hashirama’s hair. If she has long hair, Hashirama will brush or braid her’s as well.

Some let war and chaos eat them from the inside, but Hashirama’s woman is cut from a different cloth. He can’t help but admire that.

He fawns over his S/O as much as she does him. I think they both admire the other greatly and are the kind of couple to indulge the other at a moment’s notice.

On the rare occasion Hashirama comes away from the battlefield wounded, his S/O consistently checks his wounds and ensures that they’re always clean and bandages properly - all while playfully scolding him over his ‘clumsiness’.

Despite their lovey dovey demeanor, Hashirama and his S/O are also pillars of their community. Their influence outside their clan is wide, and many respect this powerhouse couple, and not only because of their abilities on the battlefields.

Parties, wine, gambling, cool nights by the fire surrounded by friends and comrades - they’re definitely the ‘host’ couple who know how to have a good time. Hashirama’s S/O, despite all her ferocity, loves playing hostess. She dots on her guests just as much as she does her husband!

Madara

Madara’s woman is feared.

She’s already got a reputation for being an intensely ruthless bitch, If we’re being frank. The minute she started associating with Madara was the minute that reputation worsened.

Madata kind of loves it. It’s funny, to Madara. Why? Because his S/O is the biggest softie he’s ever met, next to Hashirama. All her armor and weapons and formidable technique hide a woman who cries over a bird’s broken wing or pouts when he steals the last piece of her fish.

He respects her for her strength - in Madara’s eyes she’s the only woman for him.

He secretly likes that she’s still soft. He admires and loves Hashirama for the same reason, and he’s started thinking that maybe he has a soft spot for ultra powerful softies.

This woman gives Madara PDA weather he likes it or not. Kisses on the cheek, a gentle hand on his hair regardless of the time or place. Sometimes it’s annoying. Most times, it’s just ... nice to be dotted on without restriction.

She manages the household well, and hears out many complaints that other ladies or lords would outright dismiss. She thinks deeply, and considers people’s situations in such a way that never came very natural to Madara. He can’t help but admire that.

This woman is untamable and Madara finds it equally vexing and admirable. She does what she likes, when she likes. She’s prideful, yet sweet. The Uchiha problem of ego does not apply to her even as she marries into the clan and all the prestige that carries.

She is a lady to reckoned with, but no in the clan one fears her like they do Madara. She retains her human element even as their foes throw the field at the sound of her name.

In that sense, by virtue of association, people see Madara as more human as well. He is as gentle with his sometimes silly woman as she is with him, and it softens the edges of his legendary reputation. To his clan, he becomes a man again, not a Ninja God in need of offerings and tribute and cowering. He needs just as much consideration as advice as the clan head as any other man.

Communication becomes more common, although Madara is still as grumpy and foreboding as ever. Sometimes he misses his grim status, sometimes, when clan children offer him homemade beads ‘that bring good luck, Madara-Sama!’, he’s glad to be rid of it.

In the evenings, she’ll comb his hair. It’s such a simple thing, but Madara has been deprived of these small things for years.

Madara’s S/O is tender to him that was not allowed for the longest time. Madara was the clan heir, a war god, a strategist and foot solider and assassin all in one. There was never just ‘Madara’, until his S/O came along, who was wreathed in as many talents from heaven and earth as Hashirama and himself, and saw him as a simple man anyways. In that sense, Madara becomes almost, but not quite, human again.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK]

The restaurant they ended up going to wasn't in Dell Valley. Anna wasn't sure if it was because it was a nicer restaurant that the ones her town offered, or because Elsa wanted to go somewhere they wouldn't be recognised. Or, it may even have been a combination of both. Either way, she wasn't going to complain.

They were seated by a window with a view over the garden behind the restaurant, which also had tables but it was a bit chilly to dine outdoors. Elsa ordered a single glass of white wine, and asked for white grape juice in a similar glass for Anna.

"We can pretend, at least," she whispered once the waiter had left. Then she sat back and picked up the menu. "Hmm… linguine?"

"Mom, I'm not a little kid; I can just get a soda."

"But I wanted you to have something similar so we can toast each other. I just don't want to go to jail when they ask to see your ID for ordering us both wine. Besides…" a slight smirk, "who is 'Mom'?"

Anna rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "You're right, Elsa. Sorry. Not playing my part."

Their drinks were brought soon after, and they ordered. Anna got spaghetti because she was too distracted by the whole situation to think of anything specific and panicked when asked, and Elsa did end up ordering linguine. They also got an order of breadsticks, and a platter of stuffed portobello caps to share.

"Where did you even find this place?" Anna asked.

"Oh, a client took me to lunch here once. I think he was hoping to close a deal of another kind, but I wasn't interested, and he was still a gentleman so the evening wasn't a total loss."

Anna looked aghast. "Elsa!" she cried, though still low enough not to carry to another table. There was a grin on her face as she continued, obviously joking, "I'm offended – do you take all the 'never gonna happen' dates here?"

"Please," Elsa snorted. "Just the one. Plus, the food is quite good – I've been saving this place for a special occasion. Even Kristoff's never been here."

Perhaps the intention was to continue joking, but Anna found that she couldn't. Not when Elsa was – unintentionally or not – being so sweet. She hadn't even told her husband about this place. Aside from a lunch date that happened who-knows-how-long ago, Elsa hadn't brought anyone else here, either. Just Anna. The very thought filled her up with bubbly warmth, and she was grateful when the breadsticks arrived because it saved her from saying something stupid.

Though it also meant that a silence grew between them as they nibbled on the sticks. It wasn't entirely comfortable, but Anna wasn't quite sure how to break it. This wasn't a date – Elsa had made that clear with her "I can't take you on a date". The thought was a little souring, despite it being in the best interests of them both.

However, just when she was about to make up an excuse to hide in the bathroom, Elsa raised her glass. "Ahem."

"Hmm? Oh!" This was the first time Anna had been expected to take part in any kind of official toast, so she didn't catch on right away. In her haste to pick up her wine glass, she almost knocked it over, but caught it in time.

"Oh, Tori." The tone was fond and affectionate. Elsa's eyes were only for her. "I know this is more difficult than we wish it were. But I'm happy you're back in my life. And that we can begin moving forward together."

Clinking her glass with her mother's, she beamed and whispered, "Me, too." They drank deeply before she asked, "You're really sure we have to go back to 'familial only' after tonight? Not trying to be a butt, just like, it seems like it's gonna be hard."

"Yes. Like I said, I'm not comfortable parenting you and dating you at the same time. And since I can't stop parenting you for another few months, we have to sacrifice the other thing." But she was still smiling. Which was explained when she added, "For the time being."

Anna felt giddy. Dating! Elsa was completely willing to give it – give them – a go. Even if they had to restrain themselves for a while, at least it wasn't a hard 'no'. She had something to hold onto.

They both made the effort to enjoy the night, and each other's company. It was all relatively chaste, too – even if Elsa's reaction to Anna's foot accidentally nudging her seemed a bit extreme. But they could do things like that with no expectations of it going further. Anna was unsure if she would ever be able to fully accept that, but that was okay. It didn't matter what kind of relationship they had, or how far they were willing to go, because it was always going to be infinitely better than what Anna had in her old life.

And she still had Punz. Throughout it all, perhaps the most surprising thing was that, not only did she still have Punz, but she also loved her as much as she ever had. More, actually, if she were entirely honest. Her heart ached for her girlfriend in the same way it ached for Elsa, and that… wasn't a bad thing. Just new.

On their way home, Elsa smiled over at her. "I hope this was as fun for you as it was for me. Probably not, but…"

"Elsa, it was great," Anna told her right away. "Honest. I don't want you to ever think I don't like just hanging out with you! It's… I get frustrated, because now I like you in a different way and we have to… y'know, conceal that."

"I know. But we can, and we will for a while yet." Biting her lip as they got back into Dell Valley proper, she was silent for a moment or two. Then she said, "You're the most important person on the planet to me. I know, I know, you're supposed to love all your children equally, but I don't. Because you're the only one I love two ways."

Snorting, Anna joked, "That's probably for the best."

"I agree. I can scarcely handle how our relationship has changed since you came back from your trip; I don't want to think about anything more."

Still, Anna glowed with pride at being the most important person to Elsa. She snuggled down into her seat and looked out the window, watching the scenery move past. "We should do something tomorrow morning," she said. Elsa lifted an eyebrow in question, and Anna felt compelled to shrug. "I mean, I get a day, right? But I didn't see you until after school so it's been less than a day…"

Elsa smiled. "I technically said a night, not a day."

Anna shrugged again. "Okay, how about… you owe me for making me worry?" she tried. It wasn't true – the mere fact that Elsa had come back more than made up for the fact that she left in the first place. Anna tried to tell her this with her tone, and the small smile, but Elsa seemed oblivious to both.

When her mother pulled up to a red light, she actually let out a sigh. It was a sad sound that had Anna's ears pricking up because Elsa should never be sad. Not because of Anna.

"Elsa…?" she asked softly, lips wrapping around the word. Elsa turned to her, and though she smiled, it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You're completely right, An- Tori. I owe you. We can keep this up into tomorrow if that's what you like."

The words sounded so stiff and formal that they actually cut Anna a little bit. Which was silly and not fair, but they certainly did make it sound like Elsa wasn't really that into what they were doing. Which was a total lie.

God. She had no right being this sensitive. None at all.

"Nah, I was just kidding," Anna lied. And the lie felt even worse, so she followed up with, "Well, I wasn't, but… you said one night, and I shouldn't be a brat about it."

"I already said I don't mind."

Now Anna felt like a bitch. Elsa kept telling her over and over that she wasn't comfortable with them doing anything besides being mother and daughter for now; she liked it, sure, but those weren't the same thing. And now she was guilting her into extending a night that was already probably making Elsa as nauseated as it did happy.

"Just sleep with me tonight," she compromised. "N-not in the sexy way; I mean, I want to sleep next to you, wake up with you. Not just because we fell asleep on accident, either. A-and then we can say we had eight-ish more hours, and… call it done? Is that okay?"

Elsa turned to glance at her, a little surprised. As it turned out, not by the words as much as by Anna's tone. Her smile turned quite watery, but she didn't reply right away. It wasn't until they passed through another green light that she did.

"Despite all this, sometimes you can still surprise me with how much you've grown up."

Instantly feeling less grown up because of that phrase, Anna blushed and smiled down at the floorboard, heart beating a little faster. It was the kind of tenderness she had always wanted from her mother. This moment was no longer about Elsa and Tori, even if the night was.

"Can you say something for me? It's dumb, but…"

"What?"

"Just… 'I'm proud of my gay daughter'. Please?"

Elsa let out a light chuckle – but it cut off rather abruptly. And was quiet for a moment. She waited until she had pulled up at a stop sign to turn fully and look at her.

"I'm so proud of everything about my beautiful, courageous, intelligent, lesbian daughter. And that's the God's honest truth."

Tears started immediately, and Anna felt silly for not realising they would. She had been waiting so many years to hear those words, and hadn't really convinced herself that she didn't care anymore.

Elsa pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek and the side of her head over and over, not letting go until someone honked for them to move. It took her a few seconds to let go, and by that stage the car had driven around them. Luckily it was so late, there was barely anyone else on the roads and they could afford to take a little more time.

Never before had Anna felt so completely… beloved. Accepted. She tried to wipe her eyes without it being obvious to Elsa, but she doubted that she succeeded. It didn't really matter.

Once they trundled in through the front door, and before Anna could even speak, Elsa had bundled her up again in a tight hug. It was what she needed. The sexual stuff and teasing was nice – the complimenting and the yearning. But this?

She needed this. Was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. There truly was something to be said about just… being held. That skin-to-skin contact that came with no expectations or potential for a 'further'. And as Anna was held, she came to another realisation: now that she was in this moment, she didn't want it to change. Earlier she may have had something else on her mind other than just 'sleeping' next to Elsa, but now, her whole body just craved comfort and reassurance.

She just wanted her mother.

"Mom…" she sighed. Elsa didn't comment on the name. Instead, she just sighed and buried her face in Anna's hair.

"My baby girl…"

They took their time getting ready for bed, but did it together. Her mother never left her side as they took each other's makeup off, got into a nightgown and PJs, brushed teeth. It was a weird middle ground between mother-and-daughter bonding, and coupley behaviour; they shared private smiles about briefly seeing each other's bodies, but didn't pursue anything. Then they were curled up in Anna's bed.

"You sure you don't want to move to your room?" Anna asked her softly as they snuggled in.

"Not at all. That room is where your father and I sleep, and I think he would appreciate me keeping it separate from where you and I sleep."

"Makes sense."

Yawning, Elsa nuzzled her neck. It took her a moment to whisper, "I've had so many dreams about this…"

"You have?" She felt the nod, and her cheeks bunched with a satisfied smile. "Oh… wow, it's… you know, sometimes I forget that for me, this is a new crush, but for you it's a love that's been burning for…"

"Right. Thirty years."

"Sorry, Mom… I really am sorry this happened. And like, that I let it hap-"

"Shhhhh." Anna calmed, snuggling closer and trying to release her hangups, her anxiousness. "Just rest. We both love each other, and we both did our best. And we'll keep doing our best. That's… all that matters."

"It's all that matters…" Anna echoed. It wasn't until this moment that she realised how truly tired she was. Snuggled next to Elsa, she was asleep within ten minutes. Elsa was asleep within five.

~ o ~

Elsa had never been more grateful for it to be a weekday. Granted, it was a Friday, but it still meant Anna had school and she had errands.

They had awoken almost at the same time. Much to her relief – and Anna's dismay – there had been no sleepy groping or half-awake make-out sessions. Both had very much felt the pull, but at the same time… the night was over. And Elsa was a woman of her word and Anna respected her enough to even try.

Instead they had a pleasant breakfast of fruit and yoghurt before Anna got dressed for school. Elsa didn't bother getting changed – she had nowhere to be this early in the morning.

"See ya, Mom," Anna said, placing a tender, but chaste, kiss on her cheek. Then she headed out the door. Elsa remained in that spot until the sound of the truck vanished down the street.

"Right… I can't put this off any longer."

Elsa took her time getting ready, taking a longer shower than usual. Letting her mind be distracted. She still had the day off, given that she had taken the time to deal with the situation regarding Anna. Now that she was back in 2015, she felt no compulsion to resume daily life.

In fact… she had a question regarding the whole situation. One better put toward an old friend.

Before lunch, she was at Doc Pabbie's home, knocking on his door. At first, he didn't seem to be home, until she wrote a note and began to stick it to the front door. At that instant, it was jerked open.

"Ah, right on time. If you could just add the current time to the note you were writing?"

Blinking at him for a moment, she almost asked why… but then shook her head. She had long ago learned to simply do as Doc asked unless it felt like a step too far. This was a minor matter, and she was only too happy to add the time to her note.

"Thank you." Taking it at once, he put it by the phone and turned to her. "For myself to find in three days. It's much easier to check in with this present day timeline at spaced-out intervals, then backtrack to the moments in time that I was needed. What might I do for you?"

"Ah. Well… I've been mulling this over. The situation; we've discussed it before."

"Between you and your daughter? Yes, yes. My own hubris is to blame, I'm afraid." With a sigh, he turned in the general direction of the kitchen. "Yoohoo?"

"No, thank you. But I'll take a glass of water if you don't mind." Nodding to her, he swept off to the kitchen for his chocolate drink and she followed, having no need to linger. "It's about the time machine. Would you be willing to… loan it to me again?"

Emmett didn't look nearly as surprised as she thought he should. He just turned to her as he opened the fridge, blinking slowly at her.

"And may I ask why you need it?"

Elsa understood his need to ask – he wasn't doing it to be nosy. This was his baby; his greatest invention. She had been lucky that he let her borrow it the first time. Moreover, he had impressed upon her only too well the dangers of time travel before he let her venture forward, promising not to visit the past.

Despite this, she didn't answer straight away, and Doc sighed, "Mrs McFly-"

"Elsa, please."

He looked at her, then turned back to the fridge to pull out two bottles: one Yoohoo, and one of supermarket brand water. "Elsa, yes. Well, Elsa, I would be willing to loan it to you again. I've observed no marked disruptions of the timeline after your last venture. However, forgive me, but I am allowed to be concerned with what your plans are for whatever time you find yourself in."

The scientist was right, as usual. It was no surprise. When he held out her bottle, she took it gladly because it meant she could take a few moments to drink, gathering her thoughts. He didn't seem to notice – if he did, he kept his mouth shut about it.

"It's hard to talk about," she tried at first. "I'm sure you understand…"

Instead of nodding or agreeing, though, Doc's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not sure I do," he said. "Surely everything you have is right here now, anyway? Wasn't that the purpose of your last visit?"

"Well… physically, yes. I have everything I ever needed. Or wanted. But… there's something else that only time can give us: me."

"I'm afraid that if you want to go back and interfere with-"

"Not back!" she hastily reassured him with a gentle, nervous little laugh. "No no, I have no interest in further interfering with the past. Too worried about ruining the good things about the present. Here's what I was thinking…"

Elsa spoke for several minutes, laying out her hypothesis and her proposed strategy. It was quite a lot for either of them to take in; Elsa herself had half-convinced herself not to bring this up because it sounded insane. By the time she was finished, they had returned to the living room and the Yoohoo was gone, as well as half of the water bottle. Doc's expression moved through several stages, some of which included sharp interest.

"Well… first of all, the procedure itself is one that I had been considering," he told her after her words had come to their end, and he had a minute or two to digest. "But the rest… I will have to give it some thought. After all, in a way, this is thwarting the natural laws for personal gain. On the other hand, I'm not sure how much water my viewpoint holds when you likely wouldn't need this if the natural laws hadn't already been fractured by our young Anna."

"Did you have to say 'young'?" she sighed, rubbing her temples. Then she shrugged helplessly. "Alright. Take all the time you need. For now, I mostly wanted your thoughts on if it's doable, and if it would work without hurting anyone… and to ask whether or not the machine itself could handle that."

"Ah, yes, absolutely it can. Now that it has the Mr Fusion unit to generate its nuclear reactions, all it will require is ordinary gasoline and routine maintenance; no further plutonium necessary. But while I'm considering, I would urge you to do the same; this will mean a huge change within your life. One that I will not be able to undo once you've finished it; that would run far too high a chance of creating an irreparable paradox."

Nodding her understanding of his warnings, she pushed to stand. "Thank you. For listening, even if you don't decide in my favour. I'll… be talking it over with her, and Kristoff, too, but I didn't want to offer unless it was possible."

"Ah!" he said, holding up an index finger to punctuate the word as he also stood and reached to guide her arm toward the door with the other hand. In some ways, he was still a bit old-fashioned; a product of the time period he grew up in, she supposed. "A wise precaution. You're quite sharp, and I've truly enjoyed our chats over the years."

"As have I. To be honest, I'm surprised you're not a cousin or uncle of some kind to me; you feel like family."

"Hmm, destinies that are intrinsically linked? Could be that, could be any number of factors. Something else to ponder." Then he gave her shoulders a brief pat as she readied to leave. "Give Anna my best. She's still welcome to stop by, of course; anytime. Though I have been sidetracked of late."

"Of course. Take care, and… thank you."

He gave a genuine smile and a tip of his head. "You're quite welcome." With that, Elsa took her leave.

So. Her plan was possible – and, not only that, but it was also entirely doable. She had to bite her lip to stop a wide grin from bursting forth, at least while she was in public. As soon as she slid into her car, she found she couldn't contain it any longer. Even her heart swelled, more than in recent weeks – and that was saying something

Of course, she had to talk to Anna about it. And Jennifer, too. After giving it more thought because now that she knew she could enact her plan, she also knew that she had to fully consider the consequences. Doc had said this decision was final, which meant that everyone had to be really sure it was for the best. Elsa already knew what she wanted; after all, aside from the five or six years halfway through, this was something she had been wanting for three decades.

Thirty years was a long time to carry a torch for someone who had vanished. She was one of the lucky few to get a second chance. No way she would be wasting that.

                                           To Be Continued…

[angelruel]

vintage pt.2

      summary: the reader gets into an accident which causes her to lose her memory. as Ruel begins to rebuild their relationship and recall the good memories between them, some bad ones are restored as well and might threaten their future. 

masterlist

Word Count: 4.4 k (kind of long, oops)

       “Soooo what’s my favorite color?”

       “Easy. Blue,” he retorted while reaching over to fill in a space on the tic tac toe board that Y/N had drawn on her empty lap desk. He was the x’s and she played the o’s. It was a bit difficult for Ruel to pretend to not know all of her tricks she played in this game, but he was a very convincing loser. She had also taken the opportunity of his return to test him on some trivia of her personal likes and dislikes. 

       “Okay, here’s a good one,” she said as she filled the left hand corner on the board with a perfect circle. Ruel learned a long time ago that her strategy was to fill two corners and the center spot of the board in order to have an upper hand on winning. He watched her play the same way over again. Ruel admired her predictability and he almost felt confident enough that her tic tac toe skills returning would somehow correlate to her feelings for him to return as well.

       “Well finally a good one. Lay it on me.” He gave her his signature soft smile that he always grants her when he’s being his sweetest version of a boyfriend.

       “What’s my favorite song? Or, at least one of my favorite songs.”

       Ruel scrunches up his nose in thought, “hmmm. I’m gonna need a little more context, bub.”

       “Okay so maybe my favorite song I like to hear on a road trip. Something that gets me energized.” Ruel found it funny that she was reaching for more and more clues to jog her memory. They both knew that couldn’t she remember the last road trip she’d been on, or any of them for that matter. He was proud that she was at least in a more positive mood about not remembering things. 

       “Wait a Minute! by Willow Smith. There’s one.”

       Y/N’s happy expression dropped to a confused one. 

       “Huh? I don’t listen to Willow Smith.”

       They both just sat there for a while. There was still an apparent wall that Y/N had built up to secure herself from being hurt by Ruel since she barely knew him. 

       But the truth was that she barely knew herself.

       “Well, I guess I did listen to her music,” she dropped her head down. “I guess I just can’t remember it.” 

       Ruel used the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the marker drawings on Y/N’s desk tray so that he could lean over it to hold her hands.

       “Hey, how about we do something else? I brought back some stuff like you asked me for.” She looked up and gave him a soft smile when he let go of her hands to grab a blue shoebox from the floor.

       “Oh, you brought gifts! Yay!” she exclaimed while clapping her dainty hands over and over. He sat the box in front of her lap on the hospital tray and she stared at it for a minute. One of the things she did remember was that blue was her favorite color. And after having a few conversations with Ruel, she discovered that his was brown. So, she assumed that the color of the box was a little nod to her. She thought that was really sweet.

       “You can go ahead,” he encouraged her. “If you have any questions, just ask.”

       She hesitated to lift the flimsy lid from the top. Partly because she was afraid that seeing the contents wouldn’t help jog her memories at all, and also because she was still pretty weak from the constant dosage of pain meds she’d grown accustomed to. 

       The first things to come out of the box were some polaroids and a bunch of little papers she grabbed that were grouped together. One of the polaroids showed a group photo in front of a campfire with little writing at the bottom that said ‘new years 2020.’ There were some post-it notes with little messages written on them in pencil. They were fading but Y/N could still make out what they said. It was a girl’s handwriting, and there was a little drawing of a pond? Or maybe a lake. 

i drew you a pond since you wanna act like a silly goose all the time. bitch.

               -y/n

       There was another one filled with words instead of a cute drawing, and she assumed this one was a serious matter.

hi, love. i left to go watch the sunrise with coco around 4 am-ish. you probably would’ve wanted to join us, but you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping. and coco said that you’ve been smothering me lately and encouraged me to sneak out. anyways, i’ll probably be back before you see this, but just in case i’m not, don’t call the cops. okay that’s all. in case i never return, i love you. 

                -y/n (under the heavy influence of stella)

       Ruel chimed in to explain. “Yeah, you used to leave me little notes like that sometimes instead of texting like a normal person.” 

       “And you kept them?”

       “Of course I did. I’m not a monster.” He joked and she playfully hit his chest with the stack of notes. Ruel scooted his chair closer to the side of Y/N’s bed and leaned in. “Lets see what else we got in here.”

       There were movie tickets, receipts from restaurants, and even old wristbands from festivals. 

       “Is this what you meant when you said I grow attached to material things?” She laughed on the outside but in reality, Y/N was so infatuated in the idea that a boy would keep a box of things that reminded him of her and their relationship. 

       “Ha yeah, I guess it kind of rubbed off on me after a while.” Ruel reached his hand into the box as well and pulled out a little beaded bracelet. It had a simple pattern of ocean blue and brown wooden beads. He played with it in between his fingers.

       “I remember this. Your cousin made it for us when you brought me to Thanksgiving. She kept running back and forth asking us what our favorite colors were. It was so cute. And she said we had to share it,” he reminisced. 

       He gave her the bracelet which she carefully placed on the wrist that wasn’t connected to an IV. There were mostly pictures in the box. Pictures of Y/N and Ruel in different settings: kissing, posing next to venue signs with his name on it, cooking, etc. She picked up one of the pictures and examined it carefully. 

       “I remember this,” she said in a nonchalant matter. Ruel looked up at her, then back at the picture in her hand.

       “You do?” 

       “Yeah, I remember that whole trip. That was a fun trip. Hmm.” She hummed to herself in bliss with a grin on her face. 

       “Tell me about it,” he grinned back at her. “What do you remember?” She looked down for a while. It was almost like the times they spent together were in secret, and too precious to share with anyone else. She felt a deep connection to someone-whoever it was to make her feel such strong emotions in just the echos of the times they spent together. Y/N began longing for the person who made her experience this type of fondness. The person she was looking for was right in front of her. Why was she holding back?

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       “Okay, how do I say this,” Y/N’s hand snaked up to her head to rake through her hair as she paced in deep thought. She took in a deep breath and turned around to look at him sitting in the hospital chair across the room.

       “I-I want this to be special. I mean, you’ve been so patient and considerate with me. You haven’t tried to rush me into anything at all. But I see the way you look when you think I’m not paying attention. You’re hurting, and I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to finally give in. Well not, finally give in, but. You know, you know what I’m trying to say right?” She used every ounce of energy she had to walk across the room to face him. She picked him up and brought his face close to hers. 

       “I’m trying to tell you that I love you,” she whispered and smiled softly. Before she could say anything else, Y/N heard the doorknob rattle in desperation to open it. 

       She quickly threw the teddy bear back into the chair and tried to pretend that she was doing anything else. 

       Ruel leaned into the door frame and struggled to keep his balance as he carried a Taco Bell bag and two drinks in his hands. 

       “Oh, let me help you with that,” Y/N rushed over to him to grab the drinks and his eyes grew in shock.

       “Well, it’s nice to see you up and moving so much. The doctor was right, you really have been getting stronger every day.” Y/N smiled up at him with pride as they both settled the food onto her desk. “So, have you heard anything yet?” 

       “Anything about what,” Y/N mumbled in between taking bites of her soft taco. She knew exactly what he was referring to, though.

       “Oh, you know. Like when are you gonna get out of this place? I mean, with the way you’re up and walking now,” he brought his free hand up to rest on the back of her neck as he examined her face with concerned eyes. “It’s been, what, four weeks now? They said four to six weeks, but by the looks of it, you’re healing up really well. You’ve done so good lately.”

       She mouthed ‘thank you’ and gave him another wide smile. Y/N was happy that he was proud of her progress. He played a big part of her growth, though. Through the discomfort and the multiple procedures she had to undergo, Ruel was always there at the side of her bed to rely on. Whether she was up at 4 am crying because she couldn’t remember the names of her dogs or freaking out in excitement after being able to stand up on her own, he was there for it all.

       And as her strength developed each day, so did her trust and love for him. She assumed that it wasn’t the same as their previous relationship, but it was more than enough to keep them happy. He would always tell her that he loved her, but she didn’t say it back. He told her it was fine, that he knew she didn’t really know who he was and he wouldn’t hold it against her. But in return, he needed for her to accept that he still loved her as much as he did before the accident and to be okay with him loving her even if it meant that she couldn’t love him equally back for a while. 

       But after spending so much time with him, Ruel was hardly a stranger to Y/N anymore. He was a friend, a very understanding and attractive friend. She couldn’t ignore the burning sensation she felt deep in her stomach when he would cuddle up close to her on the bed during their movie nights. She couldn’t ignore the desire or the comfort she felt for him any time that he was around (which was very often because Ruel was always around). He told her that he would wait for her, that she should take her time to decide if she wanted to continue their relationship whenever she was ready. He told her that she’d just gone through a major trauma and that she needed to focus on getting better. He said he would wait for her, but a part of her feared that he was only saying this to make her feel better. She feared that he had already accepted that they were just friends, that maybe he’d already began a new romance with some skinny long-haired girl in Sydney and he was just waiting for Y/N to get her strength back so that he could go home to her. 

       “Okay, well I have to tell you something,” she finally came out with. Ruel sat up straight in his chair to give her his full attention. His eyes were fixated on her face and his hands rested in his lap. She found herself lost in thought trying to remember what she wanted to tell him but she couldn’t focus on anything but his beauty. 

       “Did they already tell you whether you’re going home or not?” he laughed a little as he went to grab his drink off of the desk. “Did I miss it when I went to get lunch?” He used the side of his jeans to wipe the water that got on his hand from the cup. His huge hand. The same huge hand that he then used to move the long strands of hair out of his face. He’d previously told her that she did not like the long hair look on him and always encouraged him to get haircuts and shave. In the moment, Y/N couldn’t figure out why the hell anyone would ever encourage him to change his appearance when he looked like that. The long hair and mustache gave him a much more mature look in comparison to the old pictures and videos she would look at of him. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to cut the hair that she so desperately wanted to run her fingers through. She quickly snapped out of it and shut her eyes so she couldn’t look at the beautiful boy in front of her.

       “I really do have to tell you something,” she started and stopped because she was nervous. With her eyes still closed, she felt Ruel’s hand grab hers.

       “What’s going on, why are you acting so weird?” he let out a nervous laugh and Y/N realized that he was probably feeling the same anxiety as her in the moment. She knew that someone had to be the confident one in this scenario, and she decided that it would be her. She took one last deep breath and let go of it.

       “Do you remember what I told you when I first told you I loved you?”

       “Yes,” he laughed again, “Do you want me to tell you the story again?” She nodded quickly in a child-like manner and looked at him in adoration.

       “It was a little after a month of us dating and I’d just taken you home after we went out driving and just hanging out. I was almost back in the car when I saw you run out of the house, barefoot, yelling at me to wait.” Y/N laughed a little and felt the tension between the two of them begin to melt away. 

       “And then what did I do?”

       “You went into this whole speech about how you felt and how you were very scared to be vulnerable because you were afraid of being hurt. And then you said something that I’d never forget,” he looked up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on the tiles, “you told me that the fear you felt only grew as you fell more in love with me. You said you thought that it would never go away, but you didn’t want it to stop you from embracing the happiness you felt when you were with me. And then you told me you loved me, and that you were scared of me. You said that I made you wanna jump into the fear rather than run away from it. You said you knew that you loved me as soon as you felt scared. Because you knew you had found something worth cherishing. And if it ever went away, you didn’t think you’d survive it.” He looked down. After saying all of that, it still seemed like there was something he was missing. He looked as if he didn’t manage to not break her heart. He was scared too.

       “Ruel?” Y/N let her hands relax and gripped onto his tighter. 

       “Yeah?”

       “I’m scared.” She began to fiddle with his long digits and almost felt hesitation to do anything next.

       “What are you afraid of-” he began, but was interrupted by the connection of her lips onto his. He freed his hand and rose it up to the back of her neck so he could deepen the kiss. They kissed again, and again. They kissed until their faces were red and she broke away for a moment to catch her breath. She smiled at him and he looked back at her in disbelief. 

       “I love you. I really do, Ruel. And I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long but I don’t want to be just friends. I want you in my life like you used to be,” her eyes dropped to her lap and her expression changed, “before everything got so fucked up.”

       He grabbed her face again and began to pepper it with kisses. At this point, Ruel was halfway onto her bed. She brought up her dainty hands to cup his face and she gently pulled away again. Ruel hitched a rushed breath out as he pouted in confusion as to why she pulled away. 

       “Oh yeah, I’m going home today.” She smiled with her teeth and he laughed in pure bliss before grabbing her face again.

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

       The boxes piled in the middle of the living room all started to disappear one by one. Y/N watched in awe as Ruel picked up every box and placed it in its proper area. Her legs swung back and forth in boredom while she waited on top of the kitchen counter where Ruel had placed her since she refused to wear shoes on the trip to her apartment.

       “You’re such a good slave,” she told him in a sweet tone as her eyes followed him across the area. He shook his head, barely giving her an ounce of the attention she practically begged for, and continued moving things around. 

        “Honey are you sure you’re gonna be okay on your own like this? You can stay back home a little longer if you’d like,” Y/N’s mother remarked. She looked at her daughter with concern.

        “I’m not alone, I have Ruel. And besides, I’ve already left the nest once before. I should be fine.”

        “Well I guess I’ll be on my way home now. Call me if you need anything. Anything.” Y/N pecked a kiss on her cheek and guided her mom outside.

        By the time she got back into the apartment, the living room was clear of boxes and she moved down the hall in search of her boyfriend. She found Ruel in her bedroom on the edge of the bed hunched over his phone. 

        “What’s so interesting?” She sat down beside him and rested her chin on his shoulder. Once she realized what he was watching, she pulled out one of his airpods so she could listen in. It was from her Youtube channel she started a few months ago. She had faint memories of vlogging herself doing normal things like grocery shopping or going to her brother’s football games. She’d only looked at a few of her storytime videos, including the one where she details how she met Ruel. This was a video she hadn’t seen before, though. It was of her and Ruel together in some resort. It looked like they were on vacation and he explained to her that they were in Amsterdam for some music festival and had decided to make an entire trip out of it since it was so close to their anniversary. They’d coordinated matching outfits for the first weekend and were posing in front of the bathroom mirror together like lovesick idiots.

        “Damn, I’m so jealous of us.”

        Ruel let out a low chuckle at her and skipped through the parts she’d recorded of his performance.

        “Yeah, most people are.” He fast forwarded to a portion of the video after they returned to the hotel. Ruel was in the shower and Y/N was laying on the bed, recently showered, detailing all of the ways she was proud of her boyfriend. He laughed when she poked fun of how he forgot his own lyrics on stage.

        “Well that was almost cute,” he added and locked the phone.

        “Hey, it’s still pretty cute,” she laughed, “You can’t be mad at me for telling the truth, babe.”

        “Babe, huh?” he questioned as he turned to face her.

        “What, is that weird? Or too soon? I mean, you call me ‘bubs’ and ‘love’ all the time,” she looked down and played with the details of her jeans.

        “It’s adorable. I love it. And I love you,” he reassured her as he cupped her face and pulled it in for a puffy kiss. She kissed him back, this time with more dominance. Y/N kissed Ruel like there was a pot of gold hidden somewhere in his mouth that she was determined to get.

        Ruel matched her energy right away. He kissed her back and gripped the back of her neck to guide her face closer into his. They adorned each other with open mouths and full hearts. As they continued, Y/N felt the urge to go further and further with him, exploring his body and getting to know him on a more intimate level. They were so good at making out, it seemed like they’d done it a thousand times before. It felt like she was kissing a lover from a different lifetime, like she’d replayed scenarios over and over which all ended with her loving him. She couldn’t remember ever doing this with him before, but her body remembered. Everything with Ruel came with such ease. Every time he touched her body, she was overcome with euphoria and only craved more. She craved being closer to him, kissing him deeper.

        “Mmm, take this off please,” she tugged on his shirt and he quickly pulled it off before resuming his actions. Y/N felt herself falling into an intoxicated state as she moaned against his mouth. He responded to her by wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it closer against him. They both began to move in sync with each other, both giving and taking as their bodies danced a routine they knew too well. Y/N was so distracted by Ruel that she didn’t even hear her mother walk back in through the front door. She only whined when he pulled his face away from hers.

        “Why’dyoustop,” she breathed out. She was out of breath and watched him with puppy dog eyes as he stood up.

        “Your mom is back,” he stated flatly. He was clearly out of breath too and he was trying to calm himself down so he could see what was going on in the front.

       “...so?” she gave him a blank stare and patted on his side of the bed to join her again, “she can let herself out.”

       “Don’t worry, bubs. We’ve got time,” he chuckled to himself and pulled his shirt back on over his head. Y/N sighed and jumped from her side of the bed to join Ruel in the living room.

       “I’m sorry, hun. I forgot the most important box: your things from the hospital.” Y/N’s mother placed a small box on the counter and tapped the top of it lightly, “This is what you had on you when the crash happened. There’s not much in there, just the clothes you were wearing, your wallet, your phone,”

       “My phone?” Her eyes perked up. So did Ruel’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. I bet there’s a bunch of clues in there to help jog my memory,” she picked up the box and skipped down the hallway to drop it off. 

       “I’m pretty sure it’s dead, so you’ll have to find a charger for it. You probably have the same kind.” Her mom gestured towards Ruel, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes were fixated in thought, emotionless and dazed in a trance.

        “Huh? Oh yeah, probably. Sure.” He snapped out of his guilty state quickly and turned to see Y/N coming back from her bedroom.       

        “Was that it, Mom? Cause we were just about to go out and get some food before it gets dark.” They both said goodbye and hugged Y/N’s mother. Once the door was shut behind her, Y/N grabbed Ruel’s hand with a quickness. His worries were suddenly gone as she led him down the hall. 

        It wasn’t long before they’d continued right where they left off. Y/N was still indulging herself in him and embracing the comfort she felt in his arms. She gripped the fabric of his shirt into her fists to deepen the kiss and felt the vibration from his mouth into hers as he let out muffled moans. With each kiss, she found herself thinking about all of the things she couldn’t wait to do with him before another thought popped into her mind and snapped her out of the daydream. She pulled away from him and turned her head towards the box.

        “I’ve been wondering what was left on my phone,” she gestured to the dresser. “I need to plug it up so I can see what was going on before I lost my memory. It would be cool to see who I last talked to right before my life was ruined, right?” She laughed and began to sit up. Ruel grabbed her hand and lightly pulled it so she could come back down to him.

        “I thought you wanted to do this, yeah? I mean hey, this is our first official night together alone. We can look into the phone later, right?”

        Y/N nodded and laid back down next to him. “Hmmm, you’re right. This first, phone later,” she declared before connecting their lips once more. As Ruel rolled his lanky body on top of hers, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder why Ruel was so against her looking at her phone. Was there a dirty secret in there that he didn’t want her to find? She dismissed her paranoid thoughts and continued.

a/n: okay, so that’s that on that. ugh what is on that phone that he doesn’t want her to see???? i hope this makes sense, i’ve reread it so many times and it seems like crap but i’m still going to post it. thank you for the support of my page, and please send me asks with what fics you would like to see next ;)

[inviral-a]

Actually  wanna  talk  about  some  stuff  about  William’s  life  &  the  people  in  it  rn  so  I’m  going  to  smash  out  a  big  messy  post:  

In  my  hc  Williams  mother  was  pretty  awesome,  she  was  a  single  mum  but  she  did  everything  right,  up  until  Umbrella  got  rid  of  her  so  they  could  have  total  access  to  William  since  he  was  a  minor  (14) when  they  first  contacted  her  about  him  participating  in  the  training  facility.  It  wasn’t  anything  Linda  did  wrong,  she  was  a  good  person  & did  her  best.  William  has  extremely  fond  memories  of  her. &  maybe  it  was  this  positivity  &  warmth  in  William’s  early  life  that  ‘sheltered’  him  from  becoming  the  same  breed  of  monster  that  a  lot  of  his  collages  became.  

Anyway  we  also  have  his  wife  Annette.  She  was  smart  as  hell  &  also  apparently  a  bad  ass.  A  lot  of  people  judge  Annette &  make  fun  of  her  but  like  her  motive  for  behaving  as  she  did  in  RE2,  particularly  in  the  remake,  was  because  she  was  thinking  of  the  greater  good,  not  just  of  herself.  She  is  a  very  complex  character,  she  was  wracked  with  guilt &  took  it  upon  herself  to  try & stop  G/the  spread  of  G /  the  outbreak  in  the  city  herself,  which  though  seems  kind  of  silly  from  an  outside  perspective,  is  entirely  understandable  from  HER  perspective  given  how  closely  she  worked  with  William -  like  it  does  actually  make  sense  that  Annette  would  feel  full  responsibly  for  what  was  happening  & feel  driven  above  all  to  try & stop  it. I  also  think  she  was  a  huge  factor  in  William  being  motivated  to  leave  umbrella & take  G  elsewhere.   Annette  seemed  to  be  the  “voice  of  reason”  between  them  since  William  was  so  invested  in  his  work,  another  thing  that  made  sense  given  this  had  been  an  enormous  part  of  William’s  life  since  he  was  15-16.  William  needed  that  influence,  Annette  was  really  a  lot  of  William’s  connection  with  “reality”  or  with  the  world  outside  of  Umbrella  in  a  lot  of  ways. Makes  sense  for  them  both  though  given  it  seems  the  two  of  them  didn’t  actually  intend  for  G  to  be  a  weapon.  That  seems  to  be  very  much  in  line  with  Annette’s  character.  The  two  of  them  clearly  wanted  to  be  able  to  spend  more  time  with  their  daughter  as  well.  Annette  is  the  one  who  reminds  William  how  long  hes  spending  at  the  lab &  that  Sherry  misses  him.  Honestly  the  whole  letter  is  a  pretty  good  insight  into  the  Birkin  family  &  what  was  really  going  on  with  them.  I  think  it  really  shows  how  normal  they  were  outside  of  Umbrella. Honestly  it  doesn’t  make  sense  for  Annette  or  even  William,  to  be  genuinely  evil  people  with  this  in  mind -  I  mean  the  fact  Annette  &  William  ever  had  a  relationship  with  this  in  mind  indicates  that  William  wasn’t  the  same  breed  of  megalomaniac  sociopath  as  what  is  common  in  the  series.   Annette  seemed  to  love  William  because  he  wasn’t &  they  appeared  to  share  a  vision  of  improving  the  human  race,  genuinely,  genuinely  seems  they  had  the  idea  of  ultimately  helping  all  people,  rather  than  wiping  out  select  individuals  they  didn’t  agree  with  or  who  weren't  “worthy”  of  “evolution”  & putting  themselves  as  the  rulers  of  this  ‘new  world’.  That  wasn’t  at  all  the  Birkin’s  shtick.

&  speaking  of  Sherry  herself.  Though  she  was  a  little  ‘neglected’  at  times  her  parents  clearly  both  loved  her  dearly.  Sherry  is  a  really  smart,  mature,  well  adjusted  kid  in  RE2.  I  mean  be  freshly  12   &  survive  what  Sherry  did.  She’s  not  a  child  who’s  ever  been  abused  or  who  has  not  been  treated  or  ‘raised’  right.  She  is  a  little  lonely  because  her  parents  worked  so  much  but  overall  she’s  credit  to  them &  you  don’t  often  have  a  kid  turning  out  that  way  if  you  don’t  love  it  &  nurture  it  to  some  extent.  Speaking  of  its  something  Annette  gets  mad  hate  for,  more  than  William  weirdly  enough  (  🙄 ),  this  idea  that  Annette  was  never  there  for  Sherry.  Not  true.  Out  of  the  two  of  them  shes  clearly  the  one  who  spent  most  of  the  time  with  Sherry.  Though  she  went  to  work  &  put  a  lot  of  time  into  her  work, out  of  the  two  of  them  its  obvious  Annette  is  the  one  who  went  home  at  the  end  of  the  day  &  cared  for  their  daughter.   William  was  the  one  who  worked  ridiculous  hours,  like  spending  almost  an  entire  week  at  the  NEST, without  coming  home.  He  was  also  noted  to  frequently  go  at  least  a  whole  day  without  sleep.  William  was  the  one  doing  all  the  hard  hours  at  the  lab,  away  from  Annette &  Sherry  who  were  obviously  at  home.  It  seems  Annette  only  worked  of  a  day  time &  came  home  during  the  end  of  the  day  to  obviously  look  after  Sherry.

I  also  find  it  super  funny/stupid  how  the  fandom  seems  to  pretend  that  the  Birkins  were  totally  cold  to  each  other,  with  William  being  totally  uninterested  in  Annette  who  was  just  there  because  she  couldn’t  take  a  hint  or  that   Annette  was  this  controlling  woman  &  William  was  just  her  dumb  bitch. Like  to  some  extent  maybe  but  overall  William  was  still  the  “breadwinner”  so  to  speak.  Like  what  I  think  was  common  for  most  families  during  this  time  period  William  was “the  man”  who  worked  stupid  long  hours  &  was  expected  to  handle  the  finances &  business  /  “important”  aspects  of  their  lives  &  Annette,  while  also  working  herself,  handled  the  family  aspect,  ie  raising  their  daughter  &  looking  out  for  the  welfare  of  all  of  them  ect.

Although  unlike  what  is  “expected”  of  such  a  family  I  think  Annette  did  have  a  big  influence  in  everything  because  William,  regardless  to  his  position  at  Umbrella,  respected  her  thoughts  & opinions  &  thought  she  was  fully  capable  of  making  decisions  for  them.  William  was  definitely  a  “ask  your  mother”  kind  of  guy  & I  don’t  think  he  was  doing  too  much  without  Annette’s  knowledge  or  approval  but  it  also  seems  that  was  actually  a  mutual  thing.  Annette,  apparently,  greatly  admired  William &  never  felt  he  was  incapable  of  anything  or  that  she  had  to  control  anything.  They  actually  read  to  me  as  equals  in  their  relationship,  not  one  dominating  too  extensively  over  the  other.

Also  been  meaning  to  talk  about  Wesker . .  .   I  think,  with  all  this  in  mind,  Wesker  was  probably  William’s  only &  strongest  “male”  role  model.  William  didn’t  know  his  father  &  never  really  bonded  with  any  of  his  mother’s  boyfriends.  He  doesn’t  remember  being  overly  fond  of  any  of  them  or  having  really  anything  in  common  with  any  one  of  them.   Keeping  in  mind  William  met  Albert  when  he  was  only  15  & Albert  was  17.  He  very  quickly  became  someone  William  admired  &  looked  up  to  because  he  was  just  that  ‘cool  older  guy’  that  William  was  so  alike  but  so  unalike  in  the  sense  that  while  William  was  a  little  shy  & timid,  Albert  was  confident  & collected  at  all  times,  they  were  completely  opposite  in  that  sense.  That  being  said,  its  probably  true  that  the  Albert  that  William  saw  &  who  lives  in  William’s  mind  isn’t  the  real  Albert  or  at  least  thats  not  who  he  remained.  Its  a  very  idealised  version  of  him.  One  that  was  born  of  William  knowing  him  since  they  were  basically  kids  &  being  so  close  to  him.

Which  is  why  he  does  have  trouble  believing  /  understanding  who  Albert  becomes  in  later  years.  Because  its  not  really  who  William  thought  he  was.  &  it  is  difficult  to  come  to  grips  with  that  or  understand  it  entirely.   William  &  Albert  started  to  ‘drift’  apart  during  the  “Alexia  incident”.  William  fell  into  his  depression  &  Albert  became  more  interested  in  Spencer  in  the  meantime  perhaps  as  a  distraction  for  the  ‘chaos’  Alexia’s  existence  had  caused  in  their  work  place  that  quickly  formed  into  its  own  obsession.  William  probably  always  assumed  Weskers  “odd”  behaviours  were  because  of  Alexia  as  well  as  he  didn’t  seem  too  pleased  by  her  either  but  regardless  if  Alexia  didn’t  happen  &  things  had  continued  at  the  Arkley  facility  its  possible  William  &  Annette  wouldn’t  have  happened  &  Wesker  never  would  have  became  as  focused  on  Spencer  as  he  did.  Just  seems  to  be  a  perfect  storm  of  events  to  me. 

This  is  the  time  where  everything  “changed”  between  them  &  they  began  going  “their  own”  ways.  Regardless,  William  never  stopped  thinking  of  Wesker  the  way  he  knew  him  so  knowing  Wesker  now  feels  like  an  entirely  different  person  &  it  feels  like  a  change  that  has  just  came  out  of  the  blue  for  William.  But  thats  one  of  William’s  problems.  He  doesn’t  notice  a  whole  lot  outside  of  his  little  bubble  so  when  he  does  notice  something  he  tends  to  feel  a  little  blindsided  by  it.  Again,  trying  not   to  speak  too  much  on  Weskers  POV.  I  am  majorly  speaking  about  my  own  take  on  Wesker  here  because  thats  my  default  as  I  don’t  have  one  I  write  with  or  anything.  I’ll  probably  make  a  HC  post  focused  on  him  on  my  multi  at  some  point  that  goes  into  things  a  little  more  too !  But  for  rn.  Wesker’s  probably  the  only  “negative”  influence  in  William’s  life  but  he  wasn’t  always.  Wesker  being  “evil”  is  kind  of  a  new  thing  for  William. 

[god-zico]

[Disclaimer: This Chatbot blog is not affiliated with SKZ at all and doesn’t represent them in any way, shape or form! This was made for entertainment and fun only!]

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Bang Chan(Werewolf Shifter): 

NSFW

He's a werewolf with a serious dEddy kink-

Can be both a hard and soft dom. Just depends on the moment. 

Can and will fuck you into the mattress-

Won't submit unless forced to because he's a stubborn little bItCh!

Don't disobey him or else you'll be punished-

Call him Chris or Daddy to get him wound up

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Boi moans….a lot...

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Boi has his hard dom reputation to live up to!

Also! Dear Lord-....being a wolf sure has its pros but for you they may as well equal to cons as well-

Example! Dude has super strength, baby and not to mention he's got this predator/prey thing goin on with him-

Like….will literally hunt your ass down in the house and fuck you upside down, forwards, sideways, you name it! 

He sees you as his play thing and would enjoy it if you ran so that he could chase you down- 

SFW 

He's actually super sweet

Loved to cuddle. Remember he's basically a puppy-

He gets jealous easy so refrain from bringing up other boys (unless you choose more than one boy but he still gets a tad bit possessive so….yeye) 

Will kiss you and hug you constantly 

Will not quit calling you cute/adorable cause he does not lie. All of y'all are cuties-

Please be cautious on a full moon, he can get pretty dangerous- 

Lee Minho(Warlock):

NSFW 

Ya boi likes to use certain spells to his advantage in the bedroom-

Aphrodisiac spells, conjuring up ice or candles or temperature play, using his magic to bind you to the bed without any sort of restraints, etc.

Dude has a crazy high sex drive tbh. He can go when-ever for how long where-ever

Hard dom for sure and will only submit if he wants something from you or will use it as leverage to punish you later- 

Don't make him angry! This boy is into all kinds of kinky shit and will punish you however he sees fit- 

If you happen to make him submit though he's got a softer side to him and will be extremely bratty! 

SFW 

Ok but seriously…. he's crazy good at magic 

Uses his powers to do pretty much everything-

Cooking, cleaning, potion brewing, etc.

Loves to use body manipulation to force your body into his so he can cuddle you-

He may not seem like it but he's a big ol softy-

Please kiss him! He needs to be loved on back or else he'll get clingy!

Seo Changbin(Incubus):

NSFW

Please beware of this boy's sex drive! It's way worse than Minho's! 

Like not even kidding! Boy can fuck you nonchalantly af while doing anything and not seem bothered! 

You on the other hand will most likely be a moaning mess while he's barely paying attention

He can and will fuck you silly without even trying-

That ability is literally in his genes seeing as he's basically a sex demon- 

He has a fascination with sex toys but barely uses them as he tends to forget about them easily

Will literally fuck you randomly-

Oh your doing paperwork? Not anymore! Watching tv? Nada! Cooking? Nope!

He's a huge switch but doesn't mind mainly domming if you're not a switch or dom yourself-

SFW

This man is basically a 5 year old in a man's body sometimes-

Like he does some of the dumbest shit you could think of…

Sliding down the stairs on a piece of cardboard after pouring water down them is a prime example-

Even though he's a literal idiot he knows you love him and wouldn't have him any other way. 

Majorly cHaOTic- 

He tries to act all tough and cool but honestly he's a big ol baby!

Speaking of baby-

Boy loves to be babied as much as possible even if he doesn't admit it. 

Like he just loves cuddles and any type of skinship tbh.

Will kiss you when you're unprepared and will laugh at you if you get startled-

May sometimes randomly text you out of pure boredom cause even though he's an incubus, boy still suffers from quarantine boredomitus- 

Hwang Hyunjin(Dragon Shifter):

NSFW

Ok so...another boy with a breeding kink???!!!(If you request to not have this kink I'll avoid it)

If you're into the breeding kink thing, he will literally fill you up until you're oozing and simply cannot hold anymore of his essence- 

No pregnancies though cause….gross...children *shudders in disgust* 

Will degrade you until your a crying and whimpering mess for him

Will most likely demand that you beg for his cock-

He's fuckin extra like that. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules. Someone call him up and ask him why tf he's like that. 

Sinful moans to the max! He's very vocal during sex!

Like...dirty talk is a must! He says some of the most sinful shit you've ever heard-

I know I mentioned degrading but damn can he praise you to the moon and back as well if you're being a good little girl/boy for him-

Enjoys calling you princess for some reason.

SFW

As a dragon, he hoards "treasures" 

Which means everything shiny in your house is getting tucked away into his nest of blankets, pillows and covers. 

Boy can breathe fire so he does little tricks with his fire breath for you

Make sure you tell him how talented he is or he'll get cranky 

He's a sassy little shit!!!!!! Sdhkedjalwld!!!!!!!!

Teases you just to see you get upset

Since he's a dragon he can regulate his body heat so when it's cold he's basically your personal heater. 🤗

Han Jisung(Tengu):

NSFW

Bird boi is at max horniness all the time tbh. 

Most of the time,since he's part crow, he will make a nest in the bed with covers and pillows before fucking you???

Don't judge him, he's born like that-

He can and will use his wings to distract you

If your successfully distracted he will pounce on you as if he were part cat instead of bird- 

He likes missionary or doggy style if his wings are out so that it doesn't hurt or strain them. 

He's a cocky little shit tbh-

Says some of the crudest shit just to get you flustered. He has no censor and he just keeps on goin-

Will thrust into you with no mercy because he knows his baby can take it and will use the safe word if it gets to be too much.

Does not hold back on the kinks! He will try anything at least once! 

Unless its bdsm while his wings are out cause that's dangerous-

SFW

He too like Hyunjin, likes to steal your shiny objects such as jewelry and such. 

It's not his fault tbh, it's purely his genetics

And in all fairness, he desperately tries not to but his genes always get the best of him-

He likes to watch you dance. He doesn't quite know why, it's just really hypnotic 

Has tried to befriend birds at the park before-

Didn't work. They just flew away from him like they do normal people-

Speaking of birds, he once almost lost his shit when he saw someone throw breadcrumbs on the ground and damn near threw himself to the floor to get to them-

He's lowkey a dumbass tbh. Smh- 

Lee Felix(Vampire):

NSFW

Major blood kink-

Like his dick will get 10× harder at the scent of your blood.

Being a vampire, he finds it hard to control himself around you if you start to bleed. 

Will suck hickies onto your skin before, during and after sex-

He just likes the teasing temptation to bite you as he can taste the blood buildup under your skin 

Will sink his teeth in your neck, wrists and thighs without so much of a second thought- 

Would honestly love it if you pulled his hair while he drinks from your thighs

And then would totally eat you out as if he were starving right after feeding of you- 

And honestly, he's damn good with his tongue!

Also, boy has a deep ass voice! 

And if you can get off from it, he'll use it against you for sure-

SFW

Since he's a vampire, he likes to use his super speed to scare the fuck outta you

Like you'd be doin something and outta nowhere he'd pop up right in front of you-

Queue girly startled scream from you~

He'd laugh at you after cause he finds it hilarious.

He gets kinda clingy but his skin is cold so make sure you wear warm clothes when cuddling him 

Speaking of cuddles-

It happens everywhere and all the time

His duality is like a light switch btw

One second he's all giggly and happy and the next he's all serious and deep voiced-....

Won't let you leave the house at night...like at all

Will most likely hunt you down if you happen to sneak past him and actually make it outside-

Kim Seungmin(Merman Shifter):

NSFW

Has a corruption kink

Choking kink to the max

Literally will eat you out in the water

Enjoys seeing you squirm

Forced submission is his domain

Will act bratty and deny you everything until you’re so worked up that you end up begging

He likes testing your limits and will push until he sees fit (with consent ofc-)

Switches between a hard and a soft dom just to confuse you

Will smile innocently as he watches you squirm, as if it wasn’t his fault because it’s not-

Literally the god of edging and orgasm denial

Is more of a lazy dom, he’ll be laying down while you suck him off as he fingers you open slowly

Can be on bottom or top, but he’s the one in control unless said otherwise

He likes it when you suck on his fingers without him having to tell you to

Will 10/10 take advantage of you if you waltz in drunk (would have to be discussed beforehand)

SFW

Literally will cling to you 24/7

You’ll walk in on him half asleep in the tub in the middle of a bubble bath at midnight

Will accidentally flood your kitchen sink because “there needs to be more water in the house”

Constantly needs to consume or be submerged in water or else he’ll get sleepy

He eats a lot of Tic-Tacs- like, a lot

Enjoys blowing up bubblegum and always has some with him

He goes crazy for bubbles so blow some with him

Likes to dance with you randomly to whatever song is playing

He enjoys planning surprise dates!

Ice cream fanatic- he goes crazy for that, it’s a wonder why he isn’t broke yet

Actually worries a lot about you and will constantly baby you

Likes to listen to soft classical music when he’s sleeping

Loves to prank you and then cuddle you afterwards because he needs attention-

Yang Jeongin(Angel):

NSFW

Boy has an oppa kink for sure-

Call him oppa, he gets a kick out of it

As an angel he has a softer way of turning you into a whining mess than the rest.

Much like Jisung, he will use his wings to distract you but will be more subtle about it-

Please say everything and anything that's unholy. He will get a kick outta that too-

Likes to please more than to be pleased

Like….sit on his face and he will go at it for hours baby-

He will honestly love to be subbed and put into his place

BUT

When he doms you, you best believe that you're in for a ride

He enjoys bdsm quite a bit. Maybe a little too much.

Like, as long as his wings are tucked in, please tie him up

And if he's dom he'll waste no time in making sure that your arms and legs are tied/cuffed to the bed posts.

Also has a sensory deprivation kink along with overstimulation-

SFW

He LOVES to be babied tbh

Like please watch disney movies with this moron

Enjoys sweets a little bit too much- 

Can actually cook pretty decently so you know for sure you won't be going hungry-

Can and will sing you to sleep cause he knows he has a beautiful voice

Sassy and conceded little shit-

When bored, he will bug you for hours on end until you entertain him 

Please give him extra love and affection cause he will die on the spot if you refuse to- 

He's really silly and extra so be prepared for multiple surprises around the house

Like sticky notes on the fridge or counter saying "I love you" and "I may be an angel but you're my saviour" and other cheesy shit like that-

Ok but....how the hell did this also turn in a headcannons post????

Anyways enjoy and choose wisely! Remember that you can pick more than one member but if you could kindly keep the max to 3 that's be helpful- 

Have fun and don't be shy to dm or ask me anything, my lovelies!!!

[sapphicdalliances]

Dear Chocolatier,

thank you so much for being here!! my sincere apologies for the lateness and messiness of this letter! sorry about my incredibly inconsistent capitalisation! it has been updated on the 8th of january, and may receive more updates this week.

I’m a simple bitch with simple tastes; here is a general summary of my preferences, and fandom-specific notes and prompts can be found further down!

I very much enjoy:

Fics that are short, but imply a longer, deeper verse; since this exchange is for short fics, but some of my prompts seem expansive, I just want to give you carte blanche permission to dip into an AU, splash around in it, and simply not provide additional details.

Comedic tones, slice-of-life, lighthearted fun, any amount of improbable romcom tropes

Am also on board with misunderstandings and drama as long as there is a happy ending!

I’m deeply okay with AUs, and most likely would be down for any modern, romcom, fantasy/fairytale, gender swap, or remix/crossover AUs you feel inspired to explore! My favourite settings include mundane/urban fantasy (witches! werewolves!), anachronism-stew-with-magic western fantasy jumbles, and disney’s Tangled.

Writing tropes I love:

Proposal fic

Wedding fic where the couple getting married is not the main couple

Outsider/third character POV of the main couple

Exes who are still in love/getting back together

Friends-with-benefits-with-feelings/did a bad job keeping it casual

Shipfic where two or more couples are contrasted

Oblique declarations of love/saying i love you without saying i love you

Provision and caretaking (acts of service!)

Aggressive matchmaking/wingmanning by an enthused friend

Hanahaki, or any other improbably dramatic instances of Cannot Spit It Out

Arranged marriage/fake marriage/fake dating

Epistolary fic

Regrettably I also love a/b/o, especially the kind that emphasises on scent safety and contains little to no actual sex

Art tropes I love, if you offered art:

Art where the characters simply look fond.

Fashion remixes – street fashion, cultural/traditional clothes, festival clothes, renfaire-esque clothes, beach photoshoot, get wild with it

Putting animal characteristics on one or both of them

Botanical motifs + celestial motifs

When plants grow directly out of people

The thing where character A is focused on something they’re doing or seeing, and the character B is focused only, wholly, desperately on A. please… the Gaze

Depictions of intimacy where faces are partially or fully hidden, but the body language is gentle

Characters SLEEPING next to each other, or comfortably doing separate activities in each other’s presence

If you wish to get frisky with your fills:

Yes!

Go for it!

I don’t have strong top/bottom preferences (and usually enjoy it when they switch or are otherwise generally equitable) so whatever you’re in the mood for is fine!

Kink tropes I very much enjoy include oral, restraints, praise kink, when proud characters cry during sex because they love their partners so much, and xeno tropes.

I love non-horny sex scenes; comedic, silly, charged, fraught, or simply affectionate exchanges that happen to include sex are my favourite. Feelings are the real kissing disease.

But like, if you wanna get horny about it.

Chase your bliss.

They simply must be in love.

I’m not as into:

Kidfic

First person narration

Soulmate AUs specifically

Kink wise, my only major squicks are incest, teacher/student, and public sex/getting caught, but i’m also not super keen on daddy kink, toilet stuff, or anything with blades or needles.

In general, please avoid:

Character death or serious/permanent injury

Animal abuse or death

Infidelity

Hopeless or downer endings

Fandom specific info:

Haikyuu!!

changed my life, cured my depression, what can be said about it? truly one of the most important series to me of all time. all musings on craft and creativity aside, let’s focus on the TRUE LOVE!!

i’m all caught up with the manga and supplementary materials!

suggested prompts: - sakuatsu, being mean to each other on purpose vs. being soft to each other by accident - kagehina or iwaoi dealing with LDR - kyouhaba are forced to cooperate on an innocuous, preferably wholesome task, such as gardening, or finding the owner of a lost dog, and it goes approximately As One Would Expect - bokukuroo + overheard phone conversation: and you've slept together how many times now? hmm. yeah, that's not technically a bromance (not in a no-homo way, just in a we-are-both-so-stupid-and-like-each-other-so-much-way) - actually that overheard phone conversation would work for any of these ships.

suggested prompts, art-specific: - festival clothes!! - put some wings on some of them. now it's bird romance, which is for birds - (i lied, this isn't art-specific at all, wingfic is always welcome in any of its forms) - just pick up your whole boyfriend and carry him like that. maybe even kiss him.

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

Oofuri

suggested prompts: - Hanai and Tajima really. struggle to get together. for like a bunch of years probably? Tajima copes with it by patiently processing his emotions in a healthy way and enjoying some casual dating. Hanai copes with it, as he does all things, by not coping - The ways Abe and Mihashi learn to take care of each other… Mihashi cooking 4 Abe… T_T

Promare

i simply think the twink and the himbo are in love.

Ace Attorney

favourite klapollo dynamic goes like this:

klavier: *genuinely and sincerely in love with apollo, in a very soft way* apollo: *furious* he's mocking me. why are you like this? klavier: I enjoy your company apollo: FINE, KEEP YOUR SECRETS

also consider: - what if klavier was a big ol golden retriever and apollo was just an angry liddol bunny. like, think about it

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

Wotakoi

I love that this series has three couples in different stages of a relationship: one who’ve been together for years and love each other like well-worn grooves; one who have history but have only just recently begun a relationship and are discovering each other anew; and one who probably will not bring themselves to share a kiss for another 27 calendar years.

Narumi/Hirotaka: Honestly, the main couple of a series usually goes over my head a bit, but the more i thought about these two the more wretchedly fond of them I became. The thing I think of the most is how Narumi taught him how to smile as a child; how she did things that meant nothing to her, so easily does kindness come, but that meant so much to him; and how now that they are grown, he does things for her that take no effort, but shake her foundations. I think theirs is a love that grows quietly; something that cannot change the world, but can change them.

Koyanagi/Kabakura: My thoughts on these two are not complex, but they are deeply positive. I love how huge their personalities are, and how they fit around and against each other; I love the implication that despite their endless bickering, they are not an on-again-off-again kind of relationship, and have instead chosen each other over and over again for ten straight years. I love that despite everything, they are kind to each other, first and foremost; they find ways to apologise and to take care of each other, and treat each other gently in private.

Kou/Naoya: I love every ship in this manga equally but perhaps I love Kou/Naoya more equally than the other two? They are just so kind and so silly, and so sweet to each other in exactly the way both of them didn’t realise they were missing. I think about Naoya being told that Kou is “okay with being alone”, and realising that “okay with it” and “have accepted it” are different, and taking his little baby steps to fix it. I think about Kou giving Naoya every last drop of patience he’s trained himself not to accept, and doing so because it simply makes her happy. My only concern is that they are both bottoms. I don’t have a solution for this.

suggested prompts, fic:

- accidentally dating ft. Kou and Naoya, or, “and you’ve made out how many times now? Hmm. Yeah, that’s not technically a bromance.” - 5 times Hirotaka and Narumi almost, almost kissed, and 1 time they did; the unresolved romantic tension may kill me and it would be worth it - what Hirotaka and Narumi taught each other (apart from the more mundane gaming and life skills, i believe that she taught him how to smile and be loved by others, and he taught her how to be loved by herself!) - smutty domesticity ft. Koyanagi and Kabakura — a lazy Sunday, laundry in the sun, fucking on the couch, everything easy with familiarity - (addendum to above: pegging)

suggested prompts, art: - festival clothes - someone’s getting married - naoya: *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a tangerine* *hands kou a t - red string of fate motifs

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-Kun

seowaka: they are idiots, and they like each other very much, but they do not know. i love a tall crying boy and his short but much more powerful girlfriend.

chiyo/nozaki + chiyo/nozaki/mikorin: im rooting for her in the face of such overwhelming stupidity. one himbo is difficult enough to seduce but two. chiyo is a hero and a woman of rare courage. i like the pair and the trio equally; again, if you go with trio, it’s important that they all love each other please!

suggested prompts: - 5 times any of these ships went on a date without realising, and the time they realised - urban fantasy AU where Waka is a hapless monster hunter and Seo is an annoying but deeply harmless werewolf who’s been terrorizing his town?? - fairytale AU where Seo believes she must rescue the prince from the tower and deliver him back to the kingdom capital, and the prince, who had not realised he’d been kidnapped, thinks Seo is a usurper from a rival kingdom who must be supervised all the way back to the kingdom capital to be served her justice

suggested prompts, art-specific: - festival clothes… - nozaki carrying chiyo, who’s carrying mikorin - (seo carrying waka) - waka sleeping peacefully in seo’s presence… :’(

Or please do remix it with any of my general tropes listed above!

we made it through all the fandoms.

Thank you for making it to the end of this whole disaster; I hope at least one of the prompts sparked joy! The most important thing to me is that whatever you end up doing, you are able to enjoy the process at least somewhat, and deliver a creation that you like! I can also be found on twitter at @hawberries_ (for art) and @popplioikawa (for general ramblings). If you need some more inspo, I recommend going through my art tags for the selected ships because I put a lot of Opinions into my fanart.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 85

Okay, so this chapter is a bit shorter than I usually like to post, but I’ll be honest: I love, love, LOVE the way it turned out.  Huge thanks go out to @dierotenixe for creating this character and letting me use her.  She’s been floating around in the background for a while, but I finally got to show her interacting with Sophia, and I honestly don’t think the chapter would have been even half as good without her.

As always, special thanks to @satan-parisienne and @baelpenrose for not only beta reading the story as it goes, but also keeping me sane on a day to day basis. @charlylimph-blog that includes you, too, on the sanity scale!

Three weeks had passed since Jokull Bjornson attempted to confront me in the corridors.  Three weeks of carefully worded family dinners to avoid topics my sister couldn’t discuss. Three weeks of being escorted back and forth any time I left my quarters, by a group of people on a rotation I was not privy to. At one point, even our resident mermaid walked with me for five levels, from my office to the archives.  To be honest, with the relatively-recent replacement of her tail, I actually expected her to be back in the water.  When I asked, however, her only explanation was to give a very ladylike huff and something regarding the construction making the water ‘unsatisfactory’ for swimming. She even insisted to Grey’s people to quarantine the wildlife for the duration.

During our walk, I learned all about her lost lover - a vampire secret agent, how she became exiled from her kingdom - apparently for kindness of all things,  and her absolute conviction that her son was on board the Ark.  Truthfully, my heart went out to her; regardless of the truth of her story, any life that led someone to believe they were being punished for being kind was a sad one in my book.  And honestly? I didn’t even know her that well, but here she was, taller than most women I met in my life, with flaming red hair, casually gesticulating as she told her story, as though she wasn’t wearing forty pounds of diving weights.

If nothing else, no one dared approach us.

However, being escorted everywhere only stopped any further direct confrontations.  What didn’t stop were the hushed voices I heard all over the ship, only this time it wasn’t just the groups we suspected of having an agenda.  This time, it felt like everyone I passed was staring at me and chattering.

Rumors.  Everywhere I walked, I heard rumors.  Some were slightly ridiculous:

“Yeah, I heard he hit the Councillor, and her friend just tore him to shreds.  He had to be carried away, and now the other woman is being investigated,” a woman I didn’t recognize whispered, bangles clattering.

“She is not… She was defending the Councillor after he knocked her out!” her companion groaned.

“He couldn’t even walk. It was overkill.”

“That programmer broke the Baconist bitch’s hand and face, and he wasn’t even charged. I don’t believe you.”

Yet another pair gave it a romantic spin:

“Jokull Bjornson almost killed her, I heard. Over a man,” someone hissed.

“That’s not true.” Laughter from the person they were walking with. “It was over a woman, silly.  One of the artisans, the one who always wears a hat.”

“Ooooo, I thought she was dating that programmer. Zach something?”

“She’s dating them both. And Jokull.  Who would have thought?”

Before I could correct either group, Nixe tossed her head and scoffed. “So many important things to discuss right now, and they perpetuate lies. Terrible.”

I wanted to grin at her casual demeanor, but other gossip was surprisingly close to accurate:

“I heard that big Bjornson guy almost got his throat ripped out by her sister.”

“No, it wasn’t her sister. It was one of the engineers.”

“The one she’s dating?”

“The smaller one, in the hoodie.”

“But his throat?”

A growl bubbled up in my throat at the disgusted tone, but a firm and gentle hand stopped me. “As if the Harper girl would be so crass,” my escort’s tone rebutted privately, equal if not greater in her disgust, albeit for the opposite reason. “Surely had she intended to do such a thing, the man would be dead.  That girl is many things, but a failure is not one.”

The worst, though, were the absolutely outlandish ones….

“Check it out, she’s already out of the medical bay!”

“Dude.. what about her friend?”

“No one’s heard from her.  Who knows how long she’ll take to recover?”

“At least he stopped before he killed them.  I heard it was a close thing.”

“Do you blame him? Someone told me the Councillor over there is trying to take out any opposition to the Council.”

“Seriously?”

“No, it makes sense if you look at it. First, a Baconist got on board somehow? Better yet, not just one, but twenty? And then that virus, which would only talk to her? Wasn’t that a little too convenient?”

“Dude, come on…”

“A lot of people think she is just trying to make sure we fall in line with the current political climate -”

“Josh, we’re on a ship -”

“And they are in charge. They don’t want anyone else doing it, because they think they know better.  They don’t want anyone else showing a different way things can be done.”

“But she almost died - “

“Did she? Did she really? Or is that the story she’s telling after selling out the rest of them? How do we know she isn’t just some power hungry bitch trying to take the reins over what’s left of us?”

My jaw ached from clenching it as I tried to keep walking, even while my eyes stung with frustration of knowing that I almost wanted that one to be true.  I wished Else had been convenient, instead of giving everyone on the ship nightmares trying to talk to them.  I wished I hadn’t almost died, only to be left traumatized… I’ve only been able to wash my hair for six weeks. It was only a mild balm, knowing that Charly wasn’t laid up in some medbay, she just stopped long enough - under protest - to be scanned for an all clear. Hell, I hadn’t even been checked over, much less had to stay for injuries to be treated. And power hungry? Hell, I’d give up my job to anyone who asked. They didn’t even have to be polite!

Just as I was about to turn around and say all that to the men behind me, I felt a hand brush my elbow. Nixe was standing beside me, face unperturbed. “We’ve reached the archives, and you promised you would help me find an original copy of The Little Mermaid, so I can make sure it’s accurate.” She tossed her braid over her shoulder with an imperious shake of her head - honestly very impressive, considering it trailed the ground and I would have dislocated something trying that maneuver with a quarter the amount of hair. Before I could say anything, she leaned down to speak directly in my ear. “Besides, I heard that you negotiated a peace treaty with a newborn race that could have killed us by accident, saved my life in the process, and did everything possible to make sure this vessel was able to voyage again.”

All I could do was gape as she straightened to her full height. The moment I was able to find my voice, she cocked an eyebrow and silenced me. No wonder she thought she was a queen. “Much madness is divinest sense, to a discerning eye. And sense, the starkest madness, ‘tis the majority…  Come, help me find my book, please?”

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