#for the record I mean my last comment in jest

[aurora-313]

Sometimes characters with just one scene become extremely popular. Why do you think that Masaki took off and has a huge fanbase, while our dear boy Kaien has like 3 fans total? Why isn't he insanely popular?

I admit that personally I have strange tastes, not to be a hipster, for example I liked the chemistry between Fin and Rey and so no romance between Kylo and Rey, and to the internet I'm of apparently disgustingly wrong opinion.

I can't say I have the definitive answer but I can give my two cents:

Masaki has the advantage of being Ichigo's mother and the circumstances surrounding her death are somewhat mysterious.

Ichigo is the main character and she functionally serves as a major source of his angst for... extremely questionable, vague plot and character reasons. (mostly because the plot can't function if anyone bothered to tell Ichigo literally everything he has every fucking right to know, but hey... -.- )

But if I may tangent for a moment: Masaki being a Quincy is something that still has me seeing red. There's a whole other plot progression that could've made more sense and been far more concise without unnecessarily dragging a boring Quincy cast and an Aizen knock-off with a bad mustache out of the dumpster. Which would've also tied everything up in a bow with Aizen's defeat without destroying every modicum of Ichigo's agency... but that's another post for another time.

Circling back to your question: I think if the anime adapted the scenes more faithfully, especially in Soul Society, we'd have seen a larger fanbase for Kaien. A lot of Kaien's references were simply omitted. EG; Ukitake wondering what Kaien would do in the whole scenario (up to and including likely literally kicking Byakuya's ass), Rukia asks his memory why would people come for her, Byakuya flashing back with disgust and a modicum of respect when he compares Ichigo's ferocious will with Kaien's and the abandoned implied reincarnation storyline Kubo set up then abandoned during the Aizen confrontation then we'd have a lot more fans of him.

A majority of fans got into Bleach through the anime, and the anime omitted massive parts of the story that removed meaning from Kaien's character. Worst still, the last thing we see of him is an Arrancar puppeting his corpse. Which means a lot of his 'personality' is relegated to some doppelganger twisting him into monstrous parody. What a note to end on, right?

At the same time, I can see why his presence was so diminished across the manga. He entered the narrative as Rukia's source of guilt, as Ukitake's source of inspiration, as Ichigo's spiritual predecessor, as the one who introduced the concept of heart to Rukia and then gracefully bow out when Rukia allowed herself to take his final lessons to heart (pun intended) and absolve herself of guilt, symbolized in her third Zanpakutou power. (I am shocked however that given Rukia's fight with As Nodt, that we didn't get a cameo in that fear cage, especially considering given, canonically, her most horrific memory was of Metastacia!Kaien... but hey.)

But given how Kubo forgot the Visoreds were the ideal counter to the Quincy and forgot they had their masks, reducing them to chumps, how could I expect him to remember someone like Kaien...?

...

Wow. You admit to liking those characters? I'd delete them all in a heartbeat if I got Kyle Katarn, Jan Ors and Mara Jade instead... but I wouldn't trust Lucas Fims to write their way out of a paper bag if their life depended on it right now.

[bllsbailey]

Why Would Anybody Vote for Her?

As the election draws closer, I am seeing Harris/Walz signs on lawns as I drive to work. And the number seems to have grown a little in the last few weeks. I drive through an old, established neighborhood in St. Louis called Webster Groves during my commute. Turn-of-the-century Victorians with wrap-around porches and giant elm trees line Elm Street (of course) as you drive through it. It's a nice area. I kind of wish I lived there sometimes.

To live in Webster Groves, you probably need to be a doctor, lawyer, or a business owner. It's not cheap. Having had a good education is probably the prerequisite to the career that provides the income to afford living there. I doubt there are many blue collars except for the ones that cut the grass.

So, as I drive through this area, the question keeps appearing in front of me like the flight data on an F-16's HUD display. "Why in the Hell Would Anybody Vote for Kamala Harris?"

I don't mean that rhetorically, as in, "Are you out of your mind? Why would you vote for her?" I mean it in sort of a scholarly way, like, "Are you day drinking? Why would you vote for her?" I jest, but no, really...what sort would give their vote to Kamala Harris?

So I decided to give it a little more consideration, sort of a thought experiment into the mindset of voters that would cast a ballot for her on purpose. This is just me spitballing, but I think there are actually a number of reasons. These appear in no specific order because right now, I'm doing the stream-of-consciousness thing.

1. You hate Trump. You would have voted for an old sack of rotting oatmeal that sits on the beach licking ice cream cones all day instead of voting for Trump. That's it, that's all there is. Thank God Kamala is now in the race. Now you won't have to hear the incessant taunts of I Told You So the next time Biden succumbs to gravity and somersaults down a flight of stairs, falls off a bike, or poops himself in front of the Pope.

2. You're a good, loyal soldier. You'll vote Democrat no matter what (Fetterman). You'd campaign for a baked lasagna (Fetterman) if it had a (D) after its name (Fetterman). Now, to be fair, Fetterman has turned out to be a bit of a pebble in the DNC's shoe with a few center or right-of-center comments. But Democrat voters never expected that when he ran. They saw Shrek in a hoodie and thought, "Kewl..." 

3. The Truth is more important than Facts. This little gem, once uttered by Joe Biden, drives the conscience that becomes your guide. It's Jiminy Cricket 2.0. If you're a Progressive, you know there is no Truth. There is only Your Truth. And nobody is permitted to question it because your life experience is your own, and so cannot be challenged. Therefore, when Kamala says she comes from middle-class roots and worked at Mcdonald's, that is her Truth in spite of the fact that her parents were Ph.Ds (who could actually have a summer home in Webster Groves) and no work records can be found of Harris' tenure at the golden arches. Speaking truth to power means never having to prove you're genuine.

4. Policy Doesn't Matter. To vote for Kamala means that platitudes are diamonds and promises are gold. Kamala says she will do "great things" for the country, and you know that as long as her convictions mirror yours, eventually, she will circle back and explain just what those "great things" are. After she is elected. 

Perhaps getting rid of your gas stove, your Weber grill, your combustion engine, your ceiling fan, your dishwasher, or the air, water, and trees on your private land (see SUSTAINS ACT) are among those little Easter Eggs that are buried within Kamala's Plan to do Great Things starting January 21st. But you know that policy is a secondary or tertiary consideration compared to personality because you have to believe her. You must believe her. She has nothing else to offer. Kamala has no policies she can direct you to. She hasn't done anything in four years, and whatever unpopular side effects of the administration might exist (inflation, immigration, more inflation), well, those can be blamed on Joe Biden. He won't mind. He won't remember.

Liberal Senators Confident Flip-Flopping Kamala Harris Would Quickly Veer Left If Elected

Meanwhile, Harris Steals Another Key Trump Economic Policy, Says Former Trump Senior Advisor

Can Media Dupe Enough of Us to Grease Her Way In?

5. We Need a Strong Black Woman as President. But until one turns up, you have Kamala Harris. She's no Condi Rice (whom I would vote for in an instant), but she's available and running now. Don't know how strong she is, but if she could ascend to the Vice-Presidency of the United States because of skin color and gender, she can accomplish anything and must have something going for her. But as Nancy Pelosi once said, you have to vote for the bill to see what's in the bill. So you'll go into the polling place, make the Sign of the Cross, pull the lever, and hope for the best.

6. We Need More New Americans. You will vote for Kamala because Kamala knows, as you do, that the continued growth of the country demands ever-increasing fonts of new blood. What was once an Illegal Alien has evolved into an Undocumented Immigrant, a Migrant, and now a New American. Because as we know, this country owes every good thing (and none of the bad ones) to people who came here by stepping over the Rio Grande (as well as our laws) and into our neighborhoods. And if a few million are good, 20 million are better. 

Unless you live in Martha's Vineyard. Or Bel Air. Or in Kamala's front yard. Those New Americans get moved onto a defunct military base in Massachusetts or just deposited somewhere in the Midwest. But of course, you can understand that. You can forgive that because Kamala knows, as you do, that this is what's best for the New Americans so they can integrate with the Old Americans who live in Tumblebutt, Oklahoma. They will overwhelm the public services, the school systems, and the police and fire departments, but this is a good thing because it creates intense challenges that both sets of Americans can struggle through together. It will develop the grit and guts that epitomize the unconquerable American Spirit. It melds them through the forge and within the crucible to produce new Democratic voters, ensuring a one-party state for your children and grandchildren. And, after all, isn't that the way to the future...Comrade?

7. Afghanistan. Afghanistan? Pshaw! That's so 2021. Old news. The exit was whatever it was because it simply had to be done. It had to be done all at once, and it had to be done anyway it could. Kamala knows this, and so do you. When she says she was the last one out of the room, you understand it wasn't because she was responsible. It just means she was told to shut off the lights on her way out. Dead Marines at Abbey Gate and Afghans plopping onto the runway from 130 feet in the air? Biden. Biden did that.

8. Sharp as a Tack. Smartest guy in the room. Best version of Joe Biden ever. For years, Kamala assured America that the President of the United States was in top form. Fully Mission Capable. Had his crap wired tight. But Kamala really knew better, and so did you. As a politician who may have to engage in some unsavory things to survive, you understood that she had to say those things in order to maintain her proximity to power should an anvil land on Biden's head or if he pedaled his bike into a cliff with a tunnel painted on it. Kamala lied to us, but at the same time, she did it for us. You can respect that. You can vote for that in spite of the fact that such a grave issue is more than just a fly in the paint job. Of course, the prudent and honorable thing would be to put the country first and initiate the proceedings for the 25th Amendment, but, uh....does she really even know what that is? Plausible deniability?...the events of the past sometimes cloud our vision of the pluperfect future and propel us into the field of what once was...or something. Ugh. Head starting to hurt, but yeah, you know you could still vote for that if only for the reasons mentioned above. 

Anyway, as the drive through Webster Groves came to an end and carried me into nearby Brentwood, I sort of came back to the education thing. You have a Harris sign in your yard, but there's no educated reason to vote for her. She has no track record of positive accomplishments; she only has a track record of being there in the background like Zelig or doing fluff stuff like the School Bus Shuffle or Looking at the Moon with Her Own Eyes. Say what you want about Trump, but at least he could point to actual accomplishments and positive numbers during his tenure, so it makes me wonder why other educated people don't see that. Or maybe they do. And maybe they don't care. Maybe they just want to virtue signal...I do not know. However, my hope is that there will be enough people out there who can sort through the chaff and vote from an understanding of the things that are greater than skin color or hairstyle. It's kind of important. Our future is going to be formed by what happens in several weeks, and we're all going to have to live in that world.

Dan Zoernig is a commercial photographer, retoucher, and illustrator in St. Louis, Missouri. Earning a degree in History/Political Science from Rockhurst University, he has been commenting on social and policy matters since the early 2000s.

[jxsatlas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 1

keith kogane x gn! reader – next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14," Lance announces, "Begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission."

He shoves the yoke forward and the aircraft takes a steep dive. You plant your feet to help fight against the inertia. You give him a sharp glare as the aircraft steadies out.

"Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk whines from the back.

You look over your shoulder and recognise the nauseated expression on his face all too well. Last semester, there was a girl on your team that didn't do too well with excessive motion and often got sick.

Lance brushes him off. "Relax Hunk, I'm just getting a feel for the stick," he says with a lazy grin, which quickly turns mischievous. "It's not like I did this, or this!" Lance jerks the aircraft side to side, making Hunk feel worse.

"Knock it off, Lance," you warn from your chair next to him. You reach up above you and press a few buttons in hopes of stabilising the aircraft out after Lance's little joke.

"Yeah, listen to [y/n] unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing," Hunk groans angrily.

"We've picked up a distress signal!" Pidge says from his seat in the back.

"Alright, time to quit our bickering and get serious," you say, doing your own little thing to accommodate for the lower altitude while Lance flies the aircraft.

"Pidge, track the coordinates," Lance says with a roll of his eyes at your comment.

Pidge does so, typing away on the computer. The aircraft gives a large rumble and Hunk groans again.

"Knock it off, Lance! Please!" he whines, his face all scrunched up in discomfort.

"Oh, that's on you buddy," Lance says sharply. "We got a hydraulic stabiliser out."

Hunk nods and goes to fix it, but when the aircraft shakes again he gags. "Oh no."

"Oh no, fix now, puke later," Lance growls.

So much bickering... you think to yourself with a sigh.

"I lost contact!" Pidge says. "The shaking is interfering with our sensors."

Lance looks over his shoulder at Hunk. "Come on, dude!"

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and unfastens his safety belt. He carefully gets up and makes his way over to the gearbox to see what's up.

"Coordinates are back," you say, seeing the blue dot on the dash.

"Nevermind Hunk," Lance says.

"No, he still needs to fix it," you say. "We can't properly fly this thing if a hydraulic stabiliser is out."

"Whatever," Lance rolls his eyes, "Preparing for approach on visual."

"I don't think that's advisable, given our current mechanical..." Pidge warns, trailing off when he hears Hunk gag again. "...and gastrointestinal issues..."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, not before quickly emptying his stomach into the gearbox with the unsavoury sounds of food chunks and liquid hitting the metal. You cringe, not liking the sound, and hope he's okay.

"Stop worrying," Lance says dismissively.

"No, they're right," you say firmly as you place your attention on Lance now. "We should wait before we do anything."

"Nah, this baby can take it! Can't ya champ?" Lance coos and pats the dash. The aircraft rumbles again and he retracts his hand with a sheepish look. "See? She was nodding!"

"That wasn't nodding Lance," you deadpan. "Now listen to us and wait."

"I'm the one flying this thing, aren't I?" Lance asks. "So I'm in charge, and that means what I say goes!"

"Excuse you, we're both flying this thing," you argue.

Ignoring you, Lance turns to Pidge. "Pidge, hail down on them and let them know their ride is here," he says.

Knowing that you're now doomed, you keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable failure of the simulation. You can already see it, the big, bold, red letters appearing on the dash.

And when Lance flies towards an overhang, tilting the plane as much as he can in a sad attempt to thread through the little hole rather than going over or around, you know this is where you fail.

Lance doesn't make it. The wing gets torn off, the alarms blare, and the aircraft pummels to the ground. The dash goes black and those red letters you were anticipating appear without hesitation.

Simulation Failed.

The first failure on your school record.

You toss your head back and sharply exhale, frustration building up in you. "Nice going," you grumble and look at Lance through the corner of your eye.

He catches your gaze and glares at you. "Oh, shut up," he growls.

The four of you sit in silence for a second, you and Lance glaring at each other, before an instructor opens the door and beckons you to come out.

Reluctantly, you all unfasten your safety belts and crawl out of the aircraft. You then mentally prepare yourselves for the lecture about how you are all failures to come.

You, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge line up before the Commander, avoiding his scowling gaze.

"Let's see if we can't use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you," Commander Iverson's voice booms angrily. He's not at all impressed with your behaviour. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made during the simulator?"

"The engineer puked in the main gearbox!" a boy from the back of the group of students shouts out. Iverson nods and turns to Hunk.

"Yes. Everyone knows vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems," Iverson sharply criticises Hunk. He turns back to the students. "What else?"

"The comms-spec removed his safety harness," a girl points out.

"The pilot crashed!" another shouts.

Iverson nods, approving of all the answers given. "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other," he growls and turns to the four of you once more.

You keep your gaze on the ground shamefully.

"The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astro-explorers," Iverson lectures. His hands are on his hips as he looks down at you. "But these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what caused the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

In your peripherals, you notice Pidge clench his fists at his sides and scrunch his nose up in anger. You fully turn your head to him when he takes a bold step towards the Commander.

"That's not true, sir!" he barks.

Iverson looks at him and glares. "What was that, young man?" he growls.

Lance quickly slaps a hand over Pidge's mouth and pulls him back in line. "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head when he fell!" he says, smiling sheepishly in a sad attempt to cover up his fear. His hand gets tighter over Pidge's mouth, almost as if he's asking the ginger what the hell is wrong with him.

With Lance speaking up, Iverson's attention is now pinpointed on him. He takes a few steps closer to Lance, his intimidating figure making your brother cower back a bit.

"I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here," he growls, his tone of voice menacing and powerful, "is because the best pilot in your class had a disciplinary issue and flunked out."

Lance drops his gaze down to the floor, a look of dejection taking over his face.

"Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns. He stares Lance down a bit before abruptly turning to you. "And you!" he barks.

Your entire body freezes up and your eyes wearily follow him as he stops in front of you now. Your heart sinks down to your gut.

"I expected better of you."

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You returned to your dorm at the end of the day with a cloud over your head.

You grumble about the day's events as you aggressively tug your shirt over your head. You really wish you could pinpoint the source of your frustration. Are you mad at my brother? Your team? Or yourself?

You toss your clothes on the floor and pull out some track shorts and a hoodie from your dresser. Getting dressed in your pajamas for the rest of the night, you try to sort out your emotions.

"Stop mumbling to yourself," your roommate says from her bed.

You turn to her. "Ah, sorry," you say. "I didn't realise I was talking out loud..."

"If you're that mad at your brother why don't you just punch him?" she asks. You blink, surprised she actually heard you.

"I'm not violent like you," you say with a sigh. "Besides, I don't even know if I'm mad at him specifically."

"Eh, I would punch him either way," your roommate shrugs. "It's a good way to alleviate your stress."

You roll your eyes. "I alleviate my stress by sleeping."

Your roommate laughs. "Ain't that the truth?" she jests. "How many times have you taken a nap between classes this week?"

You stare at her with a blank expression for a moment before picking your clothes up and off of the ground. "I'm not answering that," you say and toss them into the hamper.

You and your roommate pause when there's a knock on the door. You look at her and she looks at you.

She raises her hands up. "And I'm not answering that," she says.

You roll your eyes and grab one of the dirty articles of clothing you tossed into the hamper and throw at her without any remorse. She yelps in fear and disgust as you walk to the door with a smirk on your face.

"Don't throw your nasty underwear at me!" she barks and she pinches the panties between her thumb and index finger, tossing them as far away from her as possible.

You cackle and open the door. Your laughter cuts short when you're suddenly face to face with your brother. Hunk stands behind him.

"What are you doing in the girls' dorm?" you ask, but then take the opportunity you just created for yourself to tease your dear elder brother. You think of it as a bit of revenge for crashing the simulator. "Visiting someone?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Heh, I wish," he sighs. "But no. We're thinking about hitting the town tonight! You know, for some team bonding?"

"Who is it?" your roommate calls to you.

"Lance and Hunk," you say over your shoulder at her.

"Punch him!" she shouts back.

"No!" you hiss and turn back to your brother.

"I don't like your roommate," Lance comments under his breath.

"Neither do I," you joke.

"I heard that!" your roommate barks.

"No you didn't!" you ready. But getting the feeling that she's going to keep interrupting, you push Lance out of your way and step into the hall with him and Hunk. You then close the door and give the boys your full attention.

"So, you're gonna come with us?" Lance asks.

"I don't know," you say with uncertainty in your tone. You cross your arms. "It's past curfew and I don't really think you have off-campus privileges..."

"That doesn't matter," Lance waves his hand dismissively. "Iverson wants us to bond as a team, so why don't we listen to him for once?"

"I'm not feeling that adventurous," you say.

"What? Why not? It'll be fun!" Lance cajoles.

"Lance, your idea of fun always ends up with you and me in the principal's office," Hunk reminds. "Don't drag your little sibling into it."

"Hunk has a point," you say. "I don't want to get in trouble again. I had my filling for today."

"Since when were you a goodie-two-shoes?" Lance asks in a somewhat offended tone.

"Since I got a scholarship here?" you quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?" Lance says as he gives you a look of utter betrayal, as if you were some alien.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not too keen on losing something like that because I went along with your dumb shenanigans," you sigh.

"Please, the max punishment for something like this is just a weekend detention with old man Brechin," Lance says and a mischievous grin spreads on his face. "That is, if you get caught."

You bite your lip, looking away in thought. Team bonding sounds very appealing after what happened today, but are you willing to risk your scholarship? You don't know if you can lose it because of a simple detention. The Galaxy Garrison is a government program, which means they are pretty strict.

"Do you really need to think about it?" Lance asks with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're scared!"

His words irk you immensely.

You snap your gaze up to him. Is he serious? You aren't scared. Why would you be scared of sneaking out?

You silently walk back into your dorm and quickly throw a bra on, some socks, and your shoes.

"Where are you going?" your roommate asks as she watches you scramble about the room with a sense of purpose all of a sudden.

"Team bonding," you say, now tying the laces of your shoes.

"This late? Are you sure?" she asks.

"All common sense in me left the moment Lance basically called me a scaredy-cat," you say bluntly.

"Well, have fun," your roommate says.

You give her a small salute as you walk out of the dorm. "I'll be back by morning."

"Alright, see ya!"

You close the door and turn to Lance and Hunk expectantly. "Well?"

Lance gives you a cocky grin, proud of his persuasion skills. You suddenly consider your roommate's suggestion for a second.

"We need to go grab Pidge," Lance says. "It won't be team bonding if someone's missing. You gotta have everybody."

You shrug, doubting Pidge will join.

Lance takes the liberty of leading the way to the boys' dorm, you and Hunk following closely behind. You expertly dodge the officers patrolling the halls making sure students are in their dorms like ninjas on a stealth mission.

As Lance rounds a corner, he suddenly stops and back peddles quickly. He peeks around the corner and watches whatever is on the other side. Curious, you and Hunk sneak up close to Lance and peek as well.

Pidge steps out of his room, a backpack swung over his shoulders. He checks his surroundings before closing the door and running off.

You, Lance, and Hunk share a look. You all then telepathically agree to follow the small boy. Once again, Lance takes the lead.

[mattzerella-sticks]

“is scamming gay rights?” - Dean & Jack, DeanCas, Bi!Dean (ao3)

Jack tries teaching Dean about his latest obsession, TikTok, except a breakdown in communication teaches Dean that, sometimes, acronyms can mean more than one thing.

           Dean didn’t understand exactly what Jack rambled on about, but he passed the point of no return a few minutes back and couldn’t interrupt without revealing he had no clue what the younger boy prattled on and on about. As it was Jack currently kept pushing his phone in Dean’s face, gesturing at it and shaking it every ten seconds or so. Dean glanced between Jack and it; each time he did there was a new video on screen and by the time he shifted his focus back to his son the lecture had moved elsewhere along a road he had trouble following. By then, he let himself sink into the comfortable numbing cadence of Jack’s speech, sipping at his beer, surfacing only when he recognized a word before diving back under.

           His ears perked in familiarity as Jack used an acronym Dean recently learned, and so he tuned back in. Jack drew the phone closer to his side of the kitchen table, tapping on it. “There was this big problem with mlms actually, and even though I filtered my home page to avoid profiles like that, they kept popping up,” he said, “Luckily TikTok went ahead and basically blacklisted and deleted all mlm content. Now, I rarely see any of those kinds of content.”

           Dean’s features shuddered, mouth dropping slightly in fright. His ears echoed with the awful drumming of his heart, and a painful wheeze tickled his throat, demanding freedom. He released it on a sigh, slightly curling in on himself. “W-what?” he asked, “You… you didn’t like it?”

           Jack shrugged, “I mean, it was kind of annoying, but I learned to ignore them. When I learned how harmful the content was, however, I was very glad to hear that TikTok went ahead and took some sort of action – Hey!”

           On autopilot, Dean snatched the phone out of Jack’s hands. He slammed it, hard, on the table between them. Dean pointed a harsh finger towards Jack, snarling his next few words. “I don’t want to ever hear you talk like that again.”

           “What?”

           “Or!” he added, fist hammering Jack’s phone further into the wood, “use this, this damned app – if this is what it turns you into!” He huffed, hands retreating to steeple at his chin. “You think you’re raising a kid right… raising a kid to be accepting despite being so close to the Bible Belt… and one dumb app undoes all that hard work.”

           Jack, frozen in his seat, stared at Dean with concern shining in his comically wide eyes. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

           “Look,” Dean said instead, his finger extending once more to point at the younger boy. It was a less accusatory gesture, softened by the gentle tone Dean adopted. “I know I haven’t been the best role model with… with that kind of stuff. Hell of a lot better than my dad was, though… still not the best. But I’ve been getting better, especially after I…” His words bottlenecked on his tongue, and through great effort did Dean spit them out. “After I admitted my own attraction to… to men, especially one man in particular…” Dean’s head felt like it might erupt, magma-like blood swelling his brain to dangerous sizes. “Cas.”

           “Yes, Dean,” Jack nodded, “I know that. I’m… I’m confused what any of that has to do with this?”

           “What it has to do with…? Jack…” Dean pinched his brow, tense shoulders collapsing as the strain became too much, muscles snapping like bridge cables. “I might not be the most… the most out, or the most proud, okay? But I’m trying. Remember that bi flag pin I wore during that hunt one time? That was me… trying. And I’ll keep trying, because this isn’t something I’m ashamed of.” He reached for Jack, ensnaring his wrist to make sure his message was well received. “So you see, being gay isn’t – it’s not annoying. It shouldn’t be hidden, or… banned and it certainly isn’t harmful despite what some repressed shitheads might think.” Emboldened, Dean levelled a disappointing glare at Jack. His lower lip jutted out in fatherly disapproval. “And I’d rather be staked on some piece of rusty rebar than let a stupid app make you homophobic. No more… Ticking-tock. Period.”

           While Jack might not appreciate Dean’s ultimatum now, he will later on in his life. Dean imagined a future where he and Jack, much older than they were in this moment, sat on a porch swing talking about how good a job Dean did raising him to be a decent human being, as Jack’s partner, whose features he couldn’t distinguish from such a distance in their front yard, played with their son, named for the man who set Jack on the right path, obviously. He was knocked out of this fantasy, unfortunately, by the lumbering footsteps of his oafish brother.

           Sam entered the kitchen, Cas at his side with a tome held open in his hands. Their conversation withered as they took in the scene they walked in on. “Hey,” Sam said, shuffling his way to them, “what’s going on?”

           Dean opened his mouth, about to explain that he was dishing some serious parental law and wisdom. Except Jack hurriedly interrupted, rushing to speak first. “I have no idea,” he told them, “I was explaining TikTok to Dean, and suddenly he starts ranting about how it’s a homophobic platform?”

           “Because it is!” Dean argued. He grabbed Jack’s phone, waving it at the others. “Jack told me that they’ve gone full Russia – banning mlms and… and it was brainwashing him, making him hate gay people!”

           “Dean! I don’t hate gay people –“

           “Because I acted before any of the damage actually managed to take root,” he said, “If you used this any longer you would’ve had more harsh things to say about mlms than they’re annoying.”

           Jack groaned, scrubbing his face with twitching fingers. “They are annoying!”

           Dean gestured at Jack, asking with exaggerated brows and frown lines, what they should do about Jack’s denigration. Sam, for his part, seemed unbothered by Jack’s callous attitude. “I mean,” he shrugged, “Jack’s not wrong. Mlms are… pretty annoying.”

           Betrayed, Dean staggered to his feet. He faltered visibly, enough that Cas rushed over, dropping the yellowed book he held, and offered a hand. Dean accepted it, leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder. The touch on the small of his back renewed his strength. “Sam,” he muttered, voice cracking, “how could you say that?”

           Sam mirrored the confusion noticeably present in Jack’s features. “Dean, why are you taking this so personally?”

           “Because, apparently,” Dean shouted at him, “you find me annoying!”

           “No more than I usually do,” Sam told Dean, “But that’s never bothered you before?”

           “Well, it’s pretty hard staying fucking unbothered when you think my sexuality is annoying.”

           “What?” Suddenly, something flashed behind Sam’s eyes, and the fog of bewilderment dissipated as pure rays of understanding shone from his smug expression and annoyingly struck Dean in the face. “Dean,” Sam sighed, “you… we’re not talking about gay people.”

           Dean snorted, “Of course you are. I’m not stupid.” Sam’s bitchy expression disagreed. “I’m hip, Sam. I know the lingo – better than you would, anyway… ‘ally’. Mlm… men loving men… What else could it be?”

           “Mlm is an acronym for multi-level marketing, Dean,” Sam explained, “that’s the kind of mlm we’ve been talking about this entire time.”

           “What?” Dean’s gaze bounced around the room, from Sam to Jack, then Cas, finally returning to Sam. “No, but I… the Internet, mlm is… it stands for…”

           “Things can have more than one meaning,” Cas supplied, appearing pained as he spoke, “especially acronyms.” He pressed a consolatory kiss upon Dean’s cheek, touch sparking a flame on his already burning skin. “It was nice to see how outspoken you’ve become, though.”

           “Yeah,” Sam agreed, “Like a modern-day Harvey Milk.”

           Dean refused to comment on Sam’s teasing, sinking into his seat again while his mind processed this new information. Cas joined him, continually rubbing soothing circles into his back. Sam sat next to Jack, across from them. Jack, sullenly tracing the cracks Dean made in his phone screen, asked, “Does this mean I’m not banned from TikTok?”

           “I just don’t get it,” Dean said, ignoring Jack’s question, “why would something that sounds boring like multi-level marketing even deserve its own acronym, let alone be banned from a whole app.”

           “Because it’s bad, Dean,” Sam explained, “multi-level marketing is, like, an evolved pyramid scheme, made more prevalent because of how easily social media disseminates misinformation and reaches impressionable people. Companies like TikTok are doing what they can to try and curb all these kinds of scams because, well… they’re annoying.”

           Adamant, Dean scowled and shook his head. “Mlm meaning that is what’s annoying.”

           “Too bad, Dean,” Sam said, “that’s probably the universally accepted meaning for it.”

           “No!” Dean said, “No, mlm is about gay people. It doesn’t have anything to do with scams.”

           Cas scoffed at Dean’s side, mumbling, “But what if scamming people is gay rights?”

           It was ridiculous, made in jest, and held no actual weight in a discussion, but Dean latched onto the throwaway line like it were the last life preserver on the Titanic. “You know what, Cas, you’re right!” he crowed, “Scamming is gay rights.”

           “It is?”

           “It should be,” Dean said, “I mean, do you know the number of times in my life I’ve scammed bigoted jerks for all they had? Scamming definitely feels like something that’s for gays only.”

           Sam rubbed his temples, battling an incoming migraine. “I don’t know why, but that take feels homophobic.”

           “Hush, Sam,” Cas told the other man, “I want to see where Dean goes with this.”

           Jack nodded, camera eclipsing his features. “Just let me hit record first, Dean. This could go viral.”

           Dean waited for the signal from Jack, a small thumbs up, and then he cleared his throat. “Okay, so here’s why scamming is a right for the gays and the gays alone…”

[a-simple-imagine]

The Smarter Witch pt.2

Requested by anonymous: “Maybe later that same year or the next one where the reader finally admits her feelings and tries making it a big special (but private) thing? Maybe in the astronomy tower or something but Malfoy messes it up and there is a fight? Her and mione end up together in the end?”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 6k

A/N - I’m arguably prouder of this part than the first!! As always comments and reblogs are appreciated. I’m very much loving my time in the Harry Potter fandom atm. credit to @euphoriainhell​ for checking this over!!

Warnings - Threats of violence, prejudice, bullying and swearing. I think that is it.

Part 1

The whistle of the Hogwarts express signaled the official end of summer as you made your way onto the platform. Family forgotten as you scan the tidal wave of students for any familiar face but they would likely be on the train already; you were running late after all. Dropping off your luggage, you're about to board when you spot a flash of platinum blonde in the corner of your eye. 

"Draco," It's hard to hear over the busy train platform as you weave through the crowd to reach him. Picking up speed as you get closer, you launch yourself onto his back. "If it isn't one of my favourite Snakes." 

"Get off me," He shakes his body in an attempt to throw you off so you loosen your grip. Dropping back down to the ground. 

"Aren’t you happy to see me?" 

"Just get on the train," His hand slaps against your back, pushing you forward onto the train.  

"Do anything exciting this summer?" You ask him as you walk through the train carriage, slipping past people as they got in your way. Checking each booth as you pass for your fellow Slytherin. They had to be on here somewhere but it was a big train. 

"Not really. You?" 

"Visited New York. Family had business at the American ministry." You glance back to make sure he was still walking behind. Finally, you spot Parkinson, sat in the corner by herself. It takes her a moment but when she finally sees you two, a wicked grin spreads over her lips. "It was fun though. Did some sightseeing- typical touristy shit." 

"Took you two long enough, I thought you were  gonna miss the train." 

"Aww she was worried about us Draco," you tease, nudging him slightly as you plop down next to her. Draco sits across from you, taking the window seat. 

"where's Blaise?" 

Her shoulders rose a little in response to Draco's question. "He said he forgot something and then ran off." 

"I hope the train leaves without him," you jest, glancing out the window. It was beginning to calm down as the last few students boarded the train. All that was left were parents biding their final farewells. You can't imagine crying over sending your child off to school but still, you spotted tears among some. 

"Without who?" Pulling your attention back, Blaise had finally shown up. He takes the space next to Draco, looking rather uninterested. Finally, the main gang was back together; not including Crabbe or Goyle. 

"Definitely not my awesome friend Blaise, that's for sure," You flash a playful smile; slumping down against the seat. It was gonna be a long journey. 

"You're as chipper as ever," Zabini comments, kicking your leg gently with his foot. "Not sure if that's a good thing." 

"I'm just happy to be back," And you were for the most part anyway. As dull as school could be, you were excited to be going back. Not to mention you'd finally get to see Hermione again; you found yourself often wondering what she may be up to. The child of two muggles must spend her time differently, or so you assumed. You kind of missed seeing her every week; perhaps even more than you missed Draco and the others. You liked to think you don't know why but deep down there was a part of you that knew exactly why. 

The conversation drifted between talks of summer plans and future endeavours. Past assignments and what was yet to be learnt. Pansy, once again, hadn't finished her summer work but that was a surprise to nobody. And after what felt like forever without interruption from the lady with the trolley, you decide you're gonna have to go search for it yourself. There was a chocolate frog calling your name right now. 

"I'm gonna go get something from the trolley. Do you guys want anything?" It's a polite gesture but you kind of hoped nobody would say yes. 

"I'll take a liquorice wand," Blaise requests and you nod a little. 

"Draco?" His head shakes so you grab Pansy's arm and pull her along with you. It was a lot easier to navigate now that everyone was pretty much in their seats. The familiar sweet question hits your ears so you know you are close. 

“Anything from the trolley?”

"You know how you finished all the homework-" 

"Yes you can copy," You should have expected this when she didn't protest to bringing her along. "Just don't make it obvious because I'm not taking the fall for it. I will definitely blame you." 

As you approach Honeydukes Express, the older witch is serving what seems to be a couple of Ravenclaw students. You wait for them to finish up, examining the contents as she turns to you. "Can I get.... some liquorice wands, a chocolate frog, a packet of Roasted Chimera Crisps and, do you want anything?" 

Pansy takes a moment to think about it. You shift uncomfortably as a few students wait their turn behind you. "Chocolate." 

"And a chocolate bar please?" You hand over the money in exchange for your sweets but the world washes away when you spot none other than Harry Potter in the booth beside you. You quickly spy Ron beside him with Hermione sat opposite. You felt the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as she laughs at something you're unaware of. 

"What are you doing?" Pansy shoves you back into reality and you hit the door to the booth. All eyes fall to you and you want nothing more than to sink into the ground. Hermione smiles ever so softly and your heart leaps out of your chest. Reaching past you to collect the items you paid for, your fellow Slytherin pulls you away completely oblivious. 

"What took so long?" Blaise wonders. Pansy hands over your items and tosses him his wands. You slide your chocolate frog into your pocket as you sit back down. Pulling open the crisp packet.

"Ask her, she just froze all of a sudden. It was really weird." 

You absentmindedly place a crisp in your mouth, crushing it between your teeth. 

"You okay?" Draco asks. 

You nod a little, flashing them a tight smile that fades as you turn back to the window. It was easier to deny when you were apart but it was time to admit to yourself that you have a crush on a certain Gryffindor. Fuck. 

Dumbledore stands on the podium at the front of the great hall, starting the term with his normal announcement as well as an introduction for the first years. It was an utterly boring speech that had your stomach growling in anticipation for dinner. Leaning down against the table, your head rests in the palm of your hand as you stare through the gaps between students at the Gryffindor table. You wonder where Hermione is sat; zoning out of the assembly entirely. There were moments you wished that Hogwarts didn't always have you split by houses. Of course, they weren't entirely strict policies but you'd get some strange looks if you had sat at the Gryffindor table for the first feast of the year rather than the Slytherin table. Perhaps you should care more about the first years getting assigned their houses but you felt yourself almost drifting off as you waited for dinner. 

"You reckon we can swap out Millicent for one of the first years?" Pansy's voice is quiet in your ear as the table finally fills with all kinds of food. You've never been happier for a speech to be over. 

"Don't be mean," An amused smile pulls at your lips but the reason behind it was unclear. You shovel food onto your plate as if it was going to disappear again if you didn't. 

"What? I'm just saying" Pansy reaches over you to grab an ear of corn on the cob to add to her plate. 

"What's your problem with her?" 

"Nothing really. I just think we could do better, she's no fun." You'd love to know what Pansy's idea of fun was. 

"I've hardly even spoken to her, to be honest," you shrug, tucking into a bread roll. "So I'd happily give her up for a first-year." 

"I'm not sure how you can miss her," Your friend adds snidely. "Pathetic excuse for a Slytherin." 

"You do realise she's sitting right over there," You nod your head in her direction. She's a little further down the table but not enough that she couldn't hear your conversation if she wanted to. It's very clear Pansy doesn't care though as she looks towards the girl who’s currently eating a chicken wing. 

"Things would be very different if I was in charge here," 

"I dread the thought," You comment, taking a long sip of water from your goblet. 

"Pansy's right," Draco interjects, you didn't even realise he was paying attention to the two of you. "This place has gone to the dogs. They let just about anyone in." 

This again? It was like listening to a broken record with Pansy and Draco. Always looking down on people for not being of pure blood. "If they only let in purebloods, there'd hardly be anyone here." 

"that’s right we forgot you're the resident mudblood lover." Pansy mocked, turning her attention to behind her. "Where is Granger anyway?" 

"You shouldn't call people that,” It was such a foul word anyway, even when it wasn't directed at Hermione. "And how should I know? I've been with you guys since we got back." 

"I don't know." The girl turns back to you. "You're the one obsessed with her." 

You're about to reply but Blaise interjects first. "Leave her alone," 

"Thank you, Blaise," you're a little surprised to find him defending you regarding the matter. He tended to sit on the sidelines when it came to discussions of muggle-borns; partly because you're convinced he thinks he's just better than most people. Pureblood or otherwise. He was a very talented young wizard and very handsome. You can't help the smug expression that takes over. 

"She can't help having no taste." 

"I'm not even obsessed with her," you fire back defensively; a little too defensively and they all snicker. "Stop bullying me for having friends other than you guys. Just because nobody else likes you three." 

"What did I do?" Draco questions, his brows knitting together. "I didn't say anything about her." 

"I know but you were probably thinking it," You huff. "And you laughed." 

"You can't punish me for thinking things," 

With a roll of your eyes, you stand up and leave the table. You could only deal with so much negativity at any given moment so you take a detour into the lion's den. Too many Weasley's to pick Ron out from the crowd so you keep an eye out for Potter; who for some annoying reason was sat all the way at the other side of the great hall. You push in beside him and a brand new first-year earning yourself the odd stares. Sadly, Hermione is nowhere to be seen. 

"Oh great you're here," You didn't appreciate Ron's tone. You shoot him a sharp glare, he was definitely someone you hadn't missed over summer. "Draco sent you?"

"Why would Draco send me?" Like Draco would even trust you as a spy. "He doesn't care about you all that much... at least not you Ron." You flash him a tight-lipped smile. "I came to see Hermione actually, I thought she'd be with you two." 

"She already went back to the dorms, said she wasn't feeling well." 

You can always count on Harry not to make a snarky comment, you thank him before heading back to your friends. Pansy was the first to tease you about running off to play with the lions but you didn't really care. You'd grown used to it by now. 

Your robe hangs off your shoulder and you almost drop the textbook you have tucked under your arm as you power walk through the corridors of Hogwarts. It was your first class of the semester and you were late. McGonagall was not going to be happy. As you burst through the door, there is a split second you're relieved that you don't see your professor only to remember she was an Animagus. Once a cat now morphed into one of your favourite professors right before your eyes. "You should know your way around the castle by now," 

"I woke up late," 

"See that it doesn't happen again, now take your seat." 

The only space left was conveniently right next to the girl who was on your mind more often than not. You swallow hard as you trudge to the second desk on the middle row. Your heart thumps in your chest and you wonder if she can hear it too. Knowing Hermione the way you did, you wouldn't be surprised if she could. 

"Never expected you to be late," The familiar whisper of her voice tickles your ear. "Finally stopped trying to prove you're better than me?" 

"I overslept but that doesn't make me a bad student," The dropping of your textbook sounds so much louder in the silence. "It was Pansy's fault anyway." 

"Your mistakes are your own," She says thoughtfully. Continuing to scribble notes down onto her parchment paper. 

"Since we’re back, I think we should continue our tradition of playing chess on Fridays." You open your new textbook, sneaking a glance at Hermione's to figure out what page you're supposed to be on. 

"Can this conversation wait," 

She started it but you don't express that; instead, you nudge her knee with yours under the desk. "It's a simple yes or no." 

"I know it's exciting to be back but that's no excuse to distract other students. Please leave Miss Granger to her studies." 

Again, she started it so why were you getting the blame? You look down to your textbook with a defeated sigh. "Sorry, professor." 

"You'll have plenty of time to catch up later." She taps the pages of your textbook with some rolled up paper in her hand before walking away. When the coast is clear, you nudge the girl next to you again. 

"So Friday then." You note the smile on her lips but she doesn't reply. In fact, she gives you the silent treatment for the rest of the class. 

Come lunchtime, you're very awkwardly sitting at the Gryffindor table waiting for Hermione and her friends. The spots of green that adorns your robe stands out among all the red and you can't help but feel unwanted. Slytherin had such a bad reputation despite actually having some great witches and wizards. "I think you're at the wrong table, Slytherin is over there." 

A sigh of relief slips into the air and you look up to her. She stood directly behind you, clutching her books like they were the most precious things on earth. There was a cocky grin on full display that filled your entire body with a gloriously warm feeling. 

"Didn't anyone tell you I'm a Gryffindor now?" You announce as she takes up space next to you. Harry sits the other side of her, greeting you with a small hello while Ron is on the opposite side of the table completely ignoring your existence. 

"Is that why you're still wearing Slytherin's colours?" 

"Honourary member?" You shrug a little. "Besides I still need an answer." 

"About what?" She places her books neatly on the table before her, exchanging them for a plate. Ron has already got his mouth full of god only knows what. 

"Friday? Chess? Or we can do something else, I honestly don't mind." 

"Sure," Hermione nods in agreement. "I'm still free at the usual time. I haven't practised much over Summer though at least not the wizard-kind." 

"Then it's a date," you wink playfully trying to keep up your confident persona but in reality, your stomach was doing somersaults. She never used to have an effect on you or more accurately not to this degree. It's as they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. "You two are free to join if you like," you glance between the boys as best you can. "I assure you my fellow Slytherin friends aren't invited; they wouldn't be caught dead hanging around Granger."

"Charming," 

"They're very particular about the company they keep" You play it off as a harmless joke.

"I think what you meant to say was that they're awful people," Ron mumbles through a full mouth. He was right but you don't appreciate it when he says it; they're still your friends. 

"Careful how you talk about my friends, Weasley," You warn, keeping your eyes on him for a moment before softening. "So how was your summer, Hermione?" 

"You really want to know?" 

You nod eagerly. "I would like nothing more. Your parents are muggles so it's like going back to a different world for you." 

Like a child listening to a bedtime story, you're sat there enjoying your lunch as Hermione tells tales of her summer. There was a beautiful light behind her eyes as she spoke of her parents; you could tell she was proud of them even though they weren't wizards. You also listened to Harry and Ron talk about theirs and how they all came together with the other Weasleys at 'The Burrow'. You didn't ask for an explanation because frankly, you didn't care. 

It was almost weird how quickly everything fell back into place at Hogwarts; it truly felt like you had never left. How you had missed endangering your fellow students by doing unauthorised magic outside of class. As well as the evenings spent in the Slytherin common room with your friends. As much as you hated boring classes, you even missed showing off to Hermione. She still managed to beat you in the likes of History of Magic but Potions was where you truly excelled.

With the day free, you had decided to spend it with Parkinson wandering around Hogsmeade.  It was a fine day for it and you could both do with some time away from the boys. The sun was shining bright in the sky and so the little village was relatively busy. You're on the way to Honeydukes when you notice her walking alone; at least you think it's her. "Granger?" You call out and she turns to you; as well as some other shoppers. Your expression brightens only for Pansy to elbow you sharply in the side. "What did you do that for?" You bite back a foul word, shoving your friend away and walking towards Hermione. 

"Don't look too happy to see me. Where's Potter and Weasley?" 

"I'm not sure," She admits, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I didn't come with them." 

"Don't have any other friends, Granger," Pansy snickering to herself. Hermione simply rolls her eyes as do you. "That's a little sad." 

"You can join us if you like?" You suggest. 

"What?" Pansy was clearly surprised by your offer and rightly so but you weren't going to miss out on an opportunity to hang out with Hermione. 

"It's alright," You can't deny her rejection had you feeling a little disappointed. "I'm fine being alone." 

"Are you sure?" 

"You don't have to pity her," Pansy comments bitterly, tugging on your arm impatiently. "Can we go?" 

"Go on ahead and I'll catch up." You sigh

"Fine," She spins on her heel and marches away. "Don't take forever." 

"Sorry about her. She's incapable of saying nice things." 

"It's alright," If you weren't mistaken her smile brightened just a little. "I've grown used to the company you choose to keep." 

"I really did want you to join us," You tell her sadly. "I understand if you don't want to though. Next time we should come together."

"I don't think Pansy would appreciate my company," Hermione shifts her weight a little, dropping her gaze. "But yeah maybe another time." 

"Tell you what, how about we do something later- If you're not busy of course? I know how you are about studying." 

"What do you want to do?" She asks quietly. 

"Uhhh..." you had no idea what you wanted to do, you just needed to talk to her. Maybe if you tell her how you feel, she'll become easier to navigate. Plus you weren't exactly one to shy away from expressing yourself for too long. "Meet me in the astronomy tower okay?" 

"Why?" 

"Just do it, Granger." With a wave of your hand, you go running off after Pansy. Walking through the door of the famous sweet shop, she's not too hard to spot. Stood before a display of Acid lollipops, her attention is drawn by the bell announcing your arrival. 

"Where's the mudblood?" The raven-haired girl turns back to the array of sweets. 

"You didn't want her to come with us," you argue, walking up beside her. You pick up an acid lollipop that was snot green in colour; amused by the idea of gifting it to Draco or something but ultimately you place it back. 

"You never normally listen to me about her." She comments, picking up a pack of cauldron cakes. 

"I wasn't gonna force her to join us when you hate her," It wouldn't be fun for anyone. "I'm meeting her later anyway- so it's fine." 

"Oooh going on a date," Pansy teased. "I didn't know you swung that way." 

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not at all," Pansy shook her head. "A mudblood on the other hand..." 

"Not homophobic just prejudice, interesting." You chuckle. Pansy pays for her cakes but not without you adding a chocolate frog to the price; a treat for being such a git you told her. Grabbing her hand, you lead her out so you can continue the rest of your day. 

You hear your name as you stroll through the courtyard on your way to meet Hermione in the astronomy tower. You'd be lying if you said you were not nervous. A quiet groan escapes as you see Draco. "Heard you got yourself a date with Granger." 

"Who told you that?" You knew the answer already. 

"Parkinson." 

"Of course she did," you reply with an exasperated sigh. 

"Didn't know you liked girls." 

"It's not a date anyway," you explain. "Mind your own business." 

"No offence but dating Granger of all people? I mean, I thought you at least had some standards." 

"Leave me alone, Draco." You spit back. 

"Someone's grumpy," His arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Where are we heading?" 

"I don't know where you are going," Struggling out of his grip, you push him away from you. The last thing you needed was Malfoy coming along with you. "I'm going to see Hermione." 

"Fine, I'll leave you to your little date." 

Your middle finger shoots up at him as you strut away. Thankfully, he seems to keep his word and doesn't follow you any longer. Ascending the steps of the astronomy tower, a shiver spills through your body as you reach the top. Hermione looks so lonely on the platform, staring out over the grounds. 

"Sorry I'm late, Draco wouldn't leave me alone," You announce, the floorboards creaking a little with each step. 

"I thought you weren't coming for a moment," Her voice is so light and sweet; you can practically hear the beautifully gentle smile behind it. "Why did you want to come up here anyway? It's awfully windy." 

As if summoned by her voice a gust of wind attacked the two of you with its brisk bite. "I like it up here," You muse, scanning your surroundings as you walk up alongside her. Leaning down against the railing. The rolling hills of Scotland really were something to behold. "It's peaceful and pretty, not to mention far away from the dungeons." 

"It is a great view." Hermione agrees, shuffling a little closer to you. 

"And I wanted to talk to you." With the way your stomach sank, you were sure you'd pass out if the metal railing wasn't there. 

"About?" 

You hesitate, taking a deep breath as if it would somehow bring along with it some courage. You've never been this nervous in your life. "Did... you finish the... uh, Herbology homework?" 

"You brought me up here to ask that?" You couldn't look at her confused face for too long. Definitely not the reason you brought her up here but you panicked and those were the words that came out. "Of course I have," She declares matter of factually. "It's due on Monday. Have you?" 

You shake your head a little.

"I can help you if you like? I still have the books checked out from the library." 

"I don't need help from the likes of you," You tease but your heart’s not really in it. 

"Are you okay?"

"Mhmm," You nod your head, forcing yourself to look upon the girl you have grown so fond of. She makes you want to throw up but in a good way. 

"Are you sure?" She looks so adorably confused. "You're acting weird." 

"I'm just nervous," You admit. You spin around so you back is against the world and you can only focus on what's in this very room. 

"Nervous?" She repeats although it's posed like a question. A gust of wind flows through her hair lifting it ever so slightly before it settles again. "Why do I make you nervous? We've spent hours together before." 

"It's just... you're the most spectacular witch in our year and-" 

"Well now I know there is definitely something wrong," She places her soft hand against your forehead and heat rushes to your face. You were now painfully aware of how close she was; she smelt... flowery with the sweetest hint of something sugary. "Such high praise- are you sick? Maybe we should take you to the hospital wing?" 

You delicately remove her hand, lowering it but never letting go. You take another deep breath, long and slow. It was now or never. "I like you." 

"I like you too," You meet the stars that twinkle so elegantly in her eyes. You had to get back to the dorms soon or you were both going to end up in detention. 

"I like you... a lot." You gently squeeze her hand, eyes dropping to the floor out of sheer embarrassment. This wasn't how you expected things to go. 

"Okay..."

"As in more than friends a lot." Your voice is but a whisper laced with the howls of the wind. 

"Oh," Was all she said. You waited for more but it never came. You were scared to look at her; too scared to let go. A distant chuckle grows closer and panic spills through your veins. Hermione's hand slips through yours as you both turn to see Draco Malfoy. He clapped slowly as one by one some fellow snakes slithered behind their leader. Parkinson, Zabini and Goyle; the only one missing was Crabbe. Not that you wanted him here, in fact, why were any of them here? 

"I can't believe you," Pansy starts with a bark of a laugh. You imagine Hermione must be very confused because even you have no clue where this was going? You rightfully regret telling Pansy about your plans tonight though along with Draco. They come up behind you and the Gryffindor steps away. 

"Good going," Draco continues, slinging both arms around you. He wears the widest of grins as he congratulates you. Wow, maybe he was just happy that you managed to go admit your feelings. Perhaps they were just being good but nosey friends. "Didn't think you'd actually go through with it." 

"Thanks," You smile warmly, embracing his touch. 

"So should I tell Granger or would you like to?" 

"Ooooh, can I do it?" Pansy practically jumps up and down where she stands; eager to please the alpha. You had a bad feeling about this. 

"Tell me what?" 

Your friends all snigger and you can feel Draco's grip around you tighten. 

"That this was nothing but a dare," The lie drips from her tongue with such ease, it could be considered impressive. "We wanted to see if you'd actually believe someone could like someone like you." 

"We didn't think she'd actually do it though. She's a little soft this one," Draco gently taps your chest. "Doesn't usually have the heart for it." 

"Guess she finally realised she can do better than a filthy little mudblood." 

You know you should say something; at the very least you should be denying what they were saying but you found yourself completely frozen. 

"How pathetic can you be," Pansy stepped into view but not before you saw a single tear spill down Hermione's cheek. 

"Hermione," Your voice disappears below your friends’ phoney words and bitter laughter. The Gryffindor calmly exited the tower leaving you alone with them. Red hot rage filled your body as you broke free of Draco. Each of them wore Cheshire Cat smiles except Blaise who seemed out of place among the rest. Whipping out your wand, you aim at Draco pushing him back until he reaches the banister. There was nowhere else for the snake to run. The tip of your wand pressed against the pale skin of his neck. 

"What - the actual - fuck?" You growl through gritted teeth. The funny thing about Malfoy is that he may seem like an alpha but confront him and he turns into a baby. Whimpering at the mere threat of a jinx or curse. Would your friends go against you to save the leader? It didn't seem like it. 

"We're just trying to save you from yourself," His Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

"Can't have you slumming around with witches like that," Pansy jumped to his defense but it only made you angrier. A hand fell onto your shoulder, whose you couldn't be sure but you'd make an educated guess and say it belonged to the girl herself. 

"I didn't ask any of you for help,"  Your grip tightens around your wand. There were so many things you could do to him; some mild and nice, others... not so much. And for once in your life, you find yourself inspired by your least favourite person. Ronald Weasley. Who could forget the time he tried to curse Draco Malfoy and it ultimately backfired which was hilarious in its own right. With a flick of your wand, you back away slowly. "I never expected any of you to be so cruel- not to me anyway. I genuinely liked her and you had to go and fuck it up." 

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch and a fat slug dribbled out of his mouth and straight onto the floor. Had the situation been different you'd probably have laughed but you just stormed off back to the common room and straight to bed. It wasn't like you would have had much time to search for her anyway. 

You're up bright and early the next day. Desperate to leave the common room as quickly and quietly as possible. Pansy had tried to talk to you when they got back but you blanked her. As you step through the doors to the great hall, you search for Hermione along the length of the Gryffindor table. If you could just explain yourself maybe you wouldn't feel so bad? Maybe your chest wouldn't hurt so much. Without much of an explanation, you charge towards her and grab her wrist to pull her away from her breakfast. Thankfully she willingly let you guide her. "Where are we going?" 

You didn't really have a particular destination in mind just a place far enough away from the great hall that nobody would interrupt. You don't stray too far before finding an empty corridor. 

"About yesterday-" 

"It's okay," She interrupts, surprisingly calmly. Had roles been reversed you'd probably be furious at her. "Your friends put you up to it. It's not a big deal." 

"Hermione..." Her eyes fell anywhere but on your own as you watched her. 

"I don't think we should hang out anymore. It's clear you're only doing it to amuse yourself and your god awful friends." 

"That's not..." Your expression softens. "true." 

"Maybe you're more like your friends than you think," That hit you straight in the heart and what made it worse is that she was right. As much as you liked to deny it, you wouldn't hang out with them if you weren't. But you genuinely enjoyed their company when they weren't being massive gits.

"I meant what I said." As quiet as your voice was, Hermione stopped walking away. "I really did. It wasn't a dare." 

"Then... why?" The brunette turned back to you looking like she was about to burst into tears. Stepping closer, she stepped back. 

"Because I'm an arsehole with shitty friends," A pitiful laugh at the excuse. "They got it in their heads that they were saving me or something by making it seem like a joke. I should have said something in the moment but I was just... surprised. I really do like you and I'm sorry about what happened. I won't bother you again." Better to cut your losses than expect forgiveness. You hadn't exactly denounced your friends other than the silly little curse you placed on Draco. As you glide past, Hermione catches your hand. Every moment of embarrassment once again filled your cheeks. "What are you..." you trail off as you look at her. Soft eyes paired with a tender smile. 

"We're gonna miss breakfast." 

"I'm sorry?" Now she was confusing you. 

"You're not responsible for your friends actions," Her fingers interlace with yours. "And while I don't like the company you keep, I don't think you're anything like them." 

"You don't have to do this," You express; part of you expecting this to turn out as a joke. Although Hermione would never do something so cruel. 

"I know but I want to." This time Hermione is the one to lead the way. 

"Can I sit with you?" It was an unusual ask considering everything that just happened but you couldn't face your fellow Slytherins right now. "I'm kind of icing out my friends so I'd rather not have to sit with them." 

"Of course," She gently squeezes your hand. "You're an honourary Gryffindor after all." 

Somehow you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders only for more to be piled back on. Sure you told Hermione how you felt but you still weren't sure quite where the two of you stood. Not to mention you couldn't avoid Draco and the others forever. You grow more hesitant with each step back to the great hall. Pulling her back just as you reach the entrance. Hermione stumbles against you, clearly, you had caught her off guard. Utterly amused, you help her steady herself. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

The world melts away as she nods ever so slightly. The fluttering of wings deep in your stomach now grew fierce as you slowly reached up to grace her ruby red cheek with the palm of your hand; she felt silky smooth to the touch. Your heart skipped a beat as your lips connected in an unsure but heavenly embrace. Hermione tasted like spearmint toothpaste and you just couldn't get enough. But it was short-lived. Uncertainty morphed into that of admiration as you watched her mouth curl up into a smile. 

"Ladies," You feel her jump a little, as do you at the sound of Fred Weasley's voice. Had he been there the whole time? Judging by the shit-eating grin as he disappeared into the great hall, he had witnessed the whole thing. 

And with a matching expression his twin brother, walks just a few paces behind. A playful wink in your direction as he passes by. "Fine morning isn't it?"

[livia-dovehallow]

future talks - gabrily

in honor of yours truly managing to score tickets to MARINA’s virtual concert next month with an afterparty pass and t shirt before they sold out, here is a un-related fluffy piece for our favorite shadowhunter couple to have ever existed !!!

Characters: Cecily Herondale, Gabriel Lightwood, Gideon Lightwood

Time/Place: 1882, London, England, UK

Documents scattered the library table in an unorganized shuffle of thoughts. Cecily scanned the names of each sheet of paper before her looking for the one she needed in that moment, growing more and more frustrated the longer it took her to find it.

Gabriel sat beside her searching as well. He had not made any sound of frustration as she had been doing but his face gave away that he felt the same way. Only Gideon across from them remained calm, though if a bit exasperated. “It’s not here, Gideon,” Gabriel stated for the third time in the last five minutes. He tossed the stack of papers he had in his hand back onto the table with a sharp slap. “How could it be missing? It’s the most important sheet of paper in this mess!”

“There’s no need to get cross,” Gideon said calmly, which only aggravated his brother more.

Cecily set her hands on the table, palms pressed against the solid wood, and inhaled slowly. Both boys ceased their bickering. Gabriel set his hand over hers gently. She looked at him, then at Gideon. “Is it possible to get a new one, Gideon?” she asked, tired. “If there is a fee, you can charge it to my brother.”

Gabriel let out a short puff of air meant as a laugh and squeezed her hand. Gideon began to gather his own set of papers, organized as he kept them always, and began to stand from the table. “I will go see if they can provide a new print now, that way if it will take time to arrive, we can still get it in before the ceremony.”

“Thank you,” Cecily said and smiled gratefully. Gideon nodded, and with a quick smile and wave, he left the library to the Hall of Records in Alicante. She turned to Gabriel, who still had her hand in his, and squeezed his fingers. “It’ll be all right,” she assured him.

Gabriel nodded and dropped his tense shoulders. She’d noticed how stressed and tense he had become over the last few days. Their wedding was only days away, and after years of courting and engagement, she knew he was as restless as she was to finally be married. “I know,” he answered with a small smile. “I just want everything to go smoothly. No hiccups or problems.”

Cecily laughed and threw her head back onto the backrest of her chair. “When has there ever been a no-problem event among this group of people, hm?” She turned back toward him and admired the way his cheekbones were enhanced by the witchlights in the library. “Gideon will find us a new marriage certificate and everything will be well.”

“Should you still be called Mrs. Lightwood if there is no marriage certificate?”

“I can do as I please.”

Gabriel smiled, affectionate and genuine this time, and turned back to the papers across the table. “Okay,” he said, mostly to himself, and reached for the first paper he saw. “That makes me feel better. We can work on the other documents while we wait for Gideon.”

Cecily pouted. “What else is there to do?” she lamented. “Mundane marriages do not involve nearly as much paperwork.”

“Do they?” Gabriel asked absently, shuffling through his pile. Cecily groaned. Over the course of their engagement, they’d completed a variety of forms and documents needed to make their union official in the eyes of the Clave. Providing birth certificates (which proved more difficult than Cecily would have liked. How was she supposed to know that her mundane-issued birth certificate had been stored in special forces?), filing for an officially sanctioned union, choosing wedding decorations and food, and not to mention the ages she spent finding the perfect wedding dress. And yet there was much to do—including having their marriage certificate ready for signing at the end of their ceremony.

“What is this?” Gabriel asked suddenly, pulling Cecily out of her half-asleep state. She blinked at him and took the page from his hand, reading the type as it came into focus.

“’Ensure your future husband is ready for life,’” she read aloud. Below was a list of topics one was meant to discuss with their betrothed prior to engagement. Cecily giggled. “It’s from a mundane women’s magazine,” she explained to Gabriel, who clearly had never touched a mundane magazine before. “Sophie or Tessa must have thrown it in with our files in jest. It’s meant to be taken at the time of engagement.”

Gabriel took back the page and studied it. “These are all quite important topics indeed,” he commented. “’Finances and Dowry, Size of Home, Duties, Children.’”

“I don’t have a dowry,” she said and raised an eyebrow at him. “That isn’t going to be an issue, is it?”

“Of course not,” Gabriel answered seriously. Cecily giggled again; she was only joking, but Gabriel was always serious about being a modern man. “And if you did, I would reject it.”

“Truly?” Cecily questioned, intrigued.

“Truly,” Gabriel answered. He turned to her. “Others see marriage as a business transaction. Indebted men seek plentiful dowries to pay off their debts, nothing more. I do not want any part of that.”

“My father would be pleased to hear you say that.” Cecily reached up and kissed his cheek gently, feeling his face lift with a smile beneath her lips. “Besides, I am proud of you for giving up most of your inheritance to Tatiana. Angel knows that girl is not deserving of your kindness.”

Gabriel’s eyes were sad. “She’s my sister,” he said with a heavy sigh. “And I hope she uses it to take care of Jesse. I think that is the primary reason I did what I did. She had a child and no salary.”

“You’re a very loving uncle,” she whispered to him. “I know you’d give anything for the little ones. I think you’ll make an excellent father.”

Gabriel flushed red and avoided her eyes, fidgeting with the magazine in his hands. “Speaking of children in the same building where your brother is present seems likes a death wish,” he said.

“For you,” she chirped with a shrug and fully turned in her seat so her entire body faced him. “Don’t worry. He’s all talk now.” Cecily paused then bit her lip. “Do—Do you not want children?”

Gabriel jumped in his seat and jerked his attention toward her once more, looking frazzled. “No!” he said quickly, then shook his head. “I mean, no that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I-I just never thought I’d have the opportunity to—you know—have children, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever get married,” he answered quietly, with a pink flush to his cheeks. Cecily felt her heart squeeze at his tone. “It was always Gideon who was groomed to carry on my father’s legacy. I was just backup really. I thought I would have given my life in the field before I was ever mature enough to get married.”

Cecily brushed her fingers through his ever-toussled brown hair and admired him. He’d changed so much over the years and she only continued to fall deeper in love with him as he did. “Did I change your mind, then?”

Gabriel’s face lifted as did the corners of his mouth. “Yes,” he confirmed with a short laugh. “I may actually grow old now.”

Cecily rolled her eyes but she laughed, happy to see him in a better place in his life than he had been when she met him. “I am glad,” she said.

“I do want children,” he added, squeezing her hand once more and looking into her eyes with those comforting green ones. “Especially with you. You’re right. I love being an uncle and being around the little ones. It’d—be very nice to have some of our own.”

Her heart burst in her chest with more happiness and love than she ever thought she was capable of. Without hesitation she surged forward and took his face in her grasp, pressing her lips to his. He smiled against her and held her steady as she leaned out of her chair. “I love you,” she mumbled.

“I love you, too.”

She pulled away from him reluctantly. “I think I need to be an aunt, first,” she said.

Gabriel blinked. “You’ve been one.”

“Not officially. We are not yet married.”

“The girls call you Aunt Cecily.”

“It needs to be official.”

He laughed and nodded. “All right,” he caved, pressing another quick kiss to her before setting her back into her seat. “Anything else you wish for upon marrying me?”

“Besides children and an official Aunt title?” She teased.

“Yes, besides those.”

Cecily pretended to ponder long and hard about her answer, despite the fact she knew exactly what it was before he even asked. “I want you to stay with me.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? Seems easy enough.”

“And also tell me how wonderful I am every single day.”

“Every day?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

“I am not expensive to please.”

“I can see that.”

Cecily grinned at him, unable to contain her excitement to spend the rest of her life with him. She wanted a love as strong as her parents’ and she had found it. “Is there something you want from me?”

Gabriel seemed surprised by this. “Anything I want?”

“Yes, you.”

He mocked her pondering expression from moments ago, prompting her to huff in faux annoyance. “I also want you to stay with me.”

“I can do that.”

His smile was sweet and vulnerable, an expression she knew only she got to see. She hoped one day he’d look at their children with that expression as well, but until that day came, she was content being the only person in the world he looked at with such love and affection. She began to imagine what their children together would look like in her mind. Whose eyes would they inherit? Would they get her black hair or his brown? Would they have all girls or all boys or a mix? Oh, Gabriel with a daughter would be so sweet—

“Cecy? What are you thinking about?”

“Our children.”

Gabriel flushed red once more and quickly looked away and back toward their documents. “One step at a time, Cecy. We need to get properly married first.”

“Details.”

[gamergirl929]

Thɘ Rɘ-Inc Strɘam (Tobin Heath x Reader)

Anonymous Request: You are going to write an incredible story about a reader who is very sleepy and is wondering around the house with a blanket as a Cape because she can't sleep without her partner who is working or doing an insta live somewhere in the house

The sound of Tobin’s voice across the apartment makes you smile, though seconds later it turns into a frown.

It was early too early for your liking and Tobin wasn’t in bed, the woman instead on a Zoom call with her fellow re-inc CEO’s.

You huff, rolling around in bed for a moment before grabbing your blanket and heading into the living room.

                                                            ***

“I mean I really think we need to be all about inclusion…”

Tobin’s brows furrow when you shuffle passed her towards the kitchen, a blanket hanging off your shoulders and dragging on the floor behind you.  

“Too early...” You mumble, Tobin rolling her eyes as you walk over, kissing her temple before you continue making your way towards the kitchen.  

“Morning to you too.” Tobin laughs, Megan, Meghan and Christen chuckling.  

“GOOD MORNING Y/N!” Megan yells, earning a loud groan from you from inside the kitchen.  

“If you couldn’t tell, Y/N isn’t a morning person.” Tobin laughs at the comments flying by, most commenting on how adorable the two of you are and how cute a sleepy Y/N is.  

“Y/N is an AFTERNOON person.” Christen giggles, the other CEO’s laughing.  

“Alright, back on topic guys.” Tobin claps her hands, urging everyone to get back on topic.  

Meanwhile, you’re in the kitchen, munching on a Pop Tart, your eyes fluttering shut before snapping back open.  

You finish your Pop Tarts before again, you shuffle passed Tobin, this time making your way to the couch instead of heading to bed, falling over the arm of the couch, and landing on the cushions face first.  

Tobin shakes her head, glancing over her shoulder, a grin stretching across her face.  

“Go get in bed Y/N.” She laughs, and you whine.  

“But I miss youuuu...”

“Awwwwwwwwwww!” Christen, Megan and Meghan say at the same time, earning a glare from Tobin, the forward’s cheeks flushing.  

You roll over on your back, your eyes closing as you snuggle into the blanket, you’d taken from the bed room, the blanket that smelled like the woman currently participating in a live stream.  

Before you realize it’s even happening, your eyes flutter shut and you’re fast asleep.  

                                                            ***

It’s when you go silent that Tobin makes her way over to you, laughing as she slips a pillow behind your head.  

She’s back at the camera seconds later with a smile.  

“She’s out.”  

“Awwwww, she wanted to be closer to her Tobyyyyy.” Megan teases, Tobin rolling her eyes as she blushes.  

“Okay, about our newest-

Tobin’s cut off by a loud snore, the woman laughing as she shakes her head.  

“Of ALL the times for you to start snoring, it’s now.”  

“This stream is amazing.” Meghan laughs, the others joining in, meanwhile, Tobin is looking over her shoulder at you, a massive grin on her face.  

“I love you Y/N, even if you snore.”  

                                                            ***

You wake only an hour later, finding Tobin STILL on the stream with her re-inc team, meaning, that you have to find a way to entertain yourself.  

Tobin jumps in her seat when you jump over the couch, the woman clutching her chest.  

“Jesus, you scared me.” She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your lips.  

“Sorry babe.” You say, running away and heading towards the bedroom.  

“She looks a little livelier.” Christen giggles, Megan and Meghan laughing.  

“She needed at least another hour of sleep.” Megan snorts, taking a swig of water.  

“We were roommates when she was at Utah, and you’re exactly right.” Christen laughs.  

“Y/N is amazing, we keep getting sidetracked.” Meghan snickers, everyone nodding.  

“Lock her in the bedroom so we can’t see her.” Megan jests, Tobin scoffing.  

“Megan, I am NOT locking my girlfriend in the bedroom.” Tobin yells, catching your attention from the other room.  

“I’m telling Sue to lock you in the bedroom.” You yell, Tobin snickering as Megan sticks her tongue out at her.  

“Shut up.”  

“AGAIN, back on topic.” Christen giggles, the woman reigning in everyone’s attention YET again, but soon, you would have ALL their attention, during their session of open discussions they were going to have towards the end of the stream.  

                                                            ***

Tobin slaps a hand over her mouth, throwing her head back with a laugh as you slide into the room with the help of your socked feet, the blanket from earlier tied around your neck, looking much like a cape.  

“What’s so- Oh my god.” Megan snorts as you slide by.  

“So is the last half hour of the stream going to be Y/N sliding around the living room?” Meghan snorts as you again slide by, dancing as you go.

Tobin grins as you make your way over, ducking down to kiss the top of her head, wrapping your arms around her as you send the screen a wave.  

“Hi guys, hi everybody!” You smile before running away, well, sliding away.  

“That WOULD be a pretty great stream.” Tobin hums as you slide by, the woman complete unaware that you’re about to slide straight into the kitchen table.  

A loud crash sounds from within the kitchen that makes Tobin’s eyes widen, Christen, Megan and Meghan’s eyes all widening at the sound.  

“Uh oh.” Tobin says as she jumps to her feet, sprinting into the kitchen where she finds you on the floor, rubbing your head that’s currently sporting a massive lump, a lump that’s bleeding.  

“Oh my god…!” Tobin shouts, her re-inc team shouting from the other room.  

“Oh my god, I’m so glad we’re recording this.” Megan snorts, meanwhile Christen screams.

“IS SHE OKAY?!?”  

Tobin comes into view moments later, sighing loudly.

“Yeah, I better go, she’s got a goose egg on her head.”  

Tobin gives a half hearted wave to every one, Meghan smiling.

“Let us know if Y/N is okay!”  

“Yeah, tell her that her cameo on the stream was pure gold.” Megan snorts, Tobin sending her a glare through her webcam.

“Please call me after you the care of Y/N.” Christrn says worriedly and Tobin nods, smiling softly.

“I will. Bye guys and thanks for coming to our stream!”  

Tobin disconnects from the call seconds later before moving into the kitchen, the woman frowning at the pout on your face.

“Come on, I’ve got you.” Tobin whispers as she lifts you off the kitchen floor and carries you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the closed toilet lid.

Wordlessly, Tobin retrieves the first aid kit from the cabinet the woman turning back to you with a small smile.

“How’s your head?” She asks, readying the cotton ball dipped in peroxide to clean the gash on your head.

“Hurts.” You pout, wincing as she dabs the cotton ball on the still bleeding wound.

“Doesn’t feel like you have a concussion, right?” Tobin asks, knowing full well you know what it feels like to have one.

“No.” Your bottom lip juts out further.

Tobin shakes her head, cleaning the wound before covering it with a band aid.  

The forward stands, ducking down to press a kiss to the lump on your forehead. 

“Better call Chris, she was worried.”  

You squeak as Tobin lifts you into the air, carrying you into the living room and placing you on the couch.  

“You stay RIGHT here. I’ll be right back.” She laughs, your bottom lip jutted out yet again in an epic pout.  

Tobin rolls her eyes playfully, the woman leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.  

“I’m just going to grab my phone and get SOMEBODY an ice pack.” Tobin giggles as she moves into the kitchen, coming back moments later, phone and ice pack in hand.  

“Get over here.” Tobin sits down beside you, opening her arms so you can cuddle into her chest, the woman holding the ice pack on your forehead.  

“What am I going to do with you?” She whispers, kissing the top of your head and you shrug.  

“Love me?” You grin, the forward chuckling.  

“Yeah, I think I can do that.”  

It’s not long after that, that Christen Press’s phone chimes, the woman smiling at the picture of you and Tobin, the forward smiling as you sleep on her chest, a small bump on your forehead.  

She shakes her head.

“Well, no one will ever forget that re-inc stream.”  

[crossingbard]

Late Night Revelations

Summary:

After Dorym’s run-in with the Syndicate and the mysterious enemy’s golem, Thancred had gotten word that the adventurer was acting differently. With this information, he is, admittedly, a little concerned. Only a little, though, as he waits for Dorym at the Quicksand for…several hours.

Notes:

Ao3 Link

This one was a little bit harder to pin down. It's been interesting finding the right story beats to write about because there are many small things that are important to Dorym's character growth.

I may eventually do a multi-chapter work of shorts, but for now I do want to focus on the little song and dance these two have going on.

Thancred Waters was far too busy for this. He knew this, and he repeated it to himself every so often as he nursed his cup at the Quicksand’s bar. Was he far too busy to tail the adventurer? Yes. Was he also far too busy to wait at the bar for him? Also, yes. Still, here he was sitting in front of Momodi as they both waited for the adventurer to return.

After their last encounter, he would be a liar to say he was not concerned. Getting on the Syndicate’s bad side was no joke, and after following up on the merchant, he wanted to make sure the intrepid hero had not met the same fate. In addition, those fainting spells of his were nothing to sneeze at.

Momodi teased him briefly for seeking out a partner instead of just having them flock to him as was his wont. He rebuffed all her points, reminding her that he was strictly here to study aetheric disturbances and that now this man was a person of interest.

“Interest on whose account? I can tell you right now that he’s just a normal guy. A very handsome but normal guy.” She smirked at him, and he rolled his eyes.

While he could not deny her point, he mentioned that he was not interested several times. It was not that he didn’t like men that way, but they certainly did not pique his interest quite as often. He was also starting the leg work on granting him an audience with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, so he knew well enough to refrain even if he was interested. “Yes, quite right you are. Anyroads, you tell me he’s been acting differently. Would you be so kind as to summarize these changes?”

“Mmm…After Dorym's last major mission, when the information on his whereabouts happened to slip the records, he’s been distant. He’s still quite pleasant, mind you. If I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t have noticed. He comes down here, picks up a job, leaves. He’s pretty damn efficient about it, so I can’t complain too much. I do miss the conversation, but if you’re going to visit more often, I think I might survive.”

Thancred laughed at the comment, “You are quite the flatterer, Momodi. Is he expected back soon then?”

“What can I say? I enjoy the entertainment you bring with you.” She shrugged, grinning, “But yes, he should be back soon. He just had to check in on a local mining dispu—and speaking of.” She nodded her head towards the door, and Thancred threw a glance over his shoulder, trying not to make the waiting too obvious.

He stood from the bar and winked at the proprietress before pointing at a table. She gave him a knowing nod and went back about her business. He kept his head down until the sound of a chair scraping on stone met his ears, causing him to look up.

“Is there aught I can do—oh, it’s you.”

Thancred laughed, “And here I thought we were on good terms. I know you’re not waking up in my arms, but it can be arranged if you like. You need only say the word.”

The adventurer smirked and rolled his eyes as he sat across from him, “I did not mean it like that, my apologies. Mistress Momodi said someone was seeking after me. I was not expecting you, is all.”

Thancred waved him off, “I jest, friend. But, yes, I have been seeking to follow up with you since our last encounter.”

He raised a brow, “I did not take you as one to seek after a wayward adventurer’s health.”

“Just yours.” He noticed the other man stir in his seat, fussing with his hair, and could not deny that he felt some satisfaction from that. Still, he did not want to give off the wrong idea, so he added, “You know, despite your fantastic luck, not every adventurer finds themselves in the middle of aetheric disturbances. Fighting flying eyes and giant golems every week or so is not as normal as you’ve been lead to believe.”

The mention of the creatures removed any trace of mirth; Dorym only nodded.

“So, how do you fare? Mistress Momodi wanted me to pay a pretty penny for that information, alas, I do not have the coin, so I figured I would take time out of my schedule to check on you myself.” A lie, he knew, but Dorym didn’t, and he did not need to know how long the other had been waiting either.

He was quiet for a while, then sighed, “I would like a drink first if we’re going to talk. I can get yours too if you’d like. What are you having?”

Thancred gave the other his order and looked back at the bar to make sure the man was not trying to use this to leave the conversation. He stayed true to his word, though it looked like he had something to say to Momodi, who only laughed. When the glasses were set down at the bar, Thancred turned back in his seat and waited.

The glass was set in front of him without pause as the other took his seat once more. The look on his face made it appear that he was debating how much should be shared. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and sighed once more before drinking, “It’s been better.”

Thancred leaned forward and smiled at him, attempting to get him to open up, “Is this something you wish to speak of? I would be more than willing to assist if I can, my friend.”

Another stretch of silence as he stared at the glass. This time, Thancred found himself shifting in his seat. Eventually, he took another long sip and spoke, “No shortage of contempt from the great and the good.” The anger in his voice was palpable. “He simply thought to change things. To make things better. If that is what happens to people like that, it is no wonder people do not seek change despite themselves.”

Thancred remembered the merchant that they had met. A handsome younger Hyur who had happened to get on the Syndicate’s wrong side. It was indeed a shame; he had to admit. “Yes…I see. You know, the stance of the Syndicate is not standard among the many.”

Green eyes looked at him, unimpressed, “Maybe so, but those who stay silent only aid the oppressors.”

“...Right you are there. But, listen, I will not deny that what happened was not unfortunate, nor will I say that this is an uncommon occurrence. It should not stop those who seek such change, though. You would be quite surprised with the waves one person can create. Yesterday, a young merchant, tomorrow…well, perhaps it may even be one very charismatic and able adventurer to shepherd those who seek change.” He smiled at the other man, who stared down at his drink, his cheeks coloring.

He had let Minfilia know of the adventurer, though the jury was still out on if it would be worth it for him to learn of the scions. Sure, he was promising but promising only meant so much when new adventurers were wont to bite off more than they could chew. Perhaps it was just his intuition, but there was something about this adventurer. He was different, Thancred could tell.

Thancred reached across the table and placed a hand on his. “Dwell not on what could have been done, and perhaps focus on what can be done to prevent it from happening to others.”

He kicked himself for the hypocrisy of his words, knowing damn well he was here because he felt terrible for not showing up soon enough to help in the fight. He was not one to preach about living without regret.

Still, his word must have taken root because since they started talking, maybe since the incident as a whole, Dorym smiled genuinely. Thancred could not help the blush that crept up his neck at how radiant and warm such a sight was. Momodi was not off the mark at all when she called him handsome. He smiled back, forgetting himself as Dorym slid his hand out from under the Hyur’s. Upon noticing, he took his hand back, a little too quickly, and used it to support his glass.

Dorym smiled broadly at the other, “I appreciate this. I know I must do better. I will be alright.” He swirled his drink again, lost in thought.

The Hyur blinked at the quietness that overtook the other, “Might there be something else?”

The Elezen looked up at him and nodded. “It is a bit of a silly request, I must admit.”

Thancred eyed the mage curiously, “You? A silly request? Perish the thought. What need might you have? I will do my best to fulfill it should it be within my power.”

That beautiful smile grew, and he sat up straight, taking another drink as he started, “You study aetheric disturbances? What does that look like for you? What can you tell me about it?”

This…was not what he was expecting.

Still, he acquiesced and provided the curious man with what information he could give. He spoke not of the other scions nor the primal threats they were investigating. It was all very rudimentary knowledge on aether, but Dorym was able to use the information to formulate some interesting follow-up questions. He was pretty insightful and a quick learner.

They spoke and drank for hours, though neither of them noticed. It turned out that Dorym, despite having no formal background, fancied himself a scholar. His interest in magic seemed to be entirely academically inclined, even down to his decision to come to Ul’dah. It appeared that it was partially because he was fascinated by the history of black and white magic and how they may be combined and partially because of the city’s reputation of prosperity. The mage happily took note when the gladiator mentioned the other magic guilds and their backgrounds, fully intending to check them all out.

“You know what they say about a man with his hand in too many pies. One might advise against too many disciplines at once.” Thancred teased, though Dorym did not seem to catch the joke.

He rolled his eyes and stared him down once more, and there was a playful tone in his words as he spoke, “As if you’re one to talk! Do not presume to know me, sir, for I am more capable than you realize. Let not a few fainting spells in your presence discount my ability.” He then let out a laugh.

“What might you mean that I am not one to talk? I am but a simple gladiator!” He leaned forward, trying to discern the man’s words despite his drunken state.

Dorym laughed once more and, when he tried to speak, lost his words as he laughed even more. This time, it was Thancred’s turn to stare Dorym down until he could compose himself. The Elezen met his gaze and, with all seriousness, said, “Pray tell, sir, how many “disciplines” do you have your hands in that a shadowy encounter with one poorly dressed foreigner slipped your mind?”

Thancred froze.

“Shit.” It all made sense. He felt the pangs of familiarity even at the Sultantree, what he was sure was their first meeting. Sure, he was dressed differently and carried himself differently hells even his hair was worn differently, but it was still obviously the man from a few weeks ago.

The look on his face must have been priceless because the Elezen was in tears, “I cannot believe you never realized!”

“Well, it was a stressful time—”

“It’s fine, dear. Worry not.” He wiped his eyes and then held out his arms, showing off the newer clothes, “It’s not my best fit, if I’m being honest, but your advice and generous coin were instrumental in my humble beginnings. ‘Tis a shame you spent it on using me as some sort of decoy and not getting the Mistress’ information, else I could have spared you the revelation.”

Thancred’s face was bright red at this point, and the alcohol was not helping in the slightest. He looked up and saw Momodi hiding behind a hand and giggling, showing that she had undoubtedly been listening in. “Were you ever going to say anything?”

“Hmm? No. Not really. But I do not let slights against me pass if I have the means to give a rebuttal.” He was no longer looking at him as he smugly swirled the remaining ice in his glass.

The gladiator scowled across the table, “So you just let me play the fool? Was that enjoyable for you?”

“Oh, this has been quite enjoyable. So, tell me, now that you remember, is this the type of informality you meant?” He steepled his fingers and leaned forward with nothing but a wicked playfulness in his eyes, “Or would you prefer the parley we’re engaging in be even less formal?”

This man was a menace.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, acutely aware of how much his features resembled that of an angler. “Dorym, listen. What happened—”

Dorym laughed again and grabbed the other’s hand, holding it with both of his, “You do not need to explain, dear. I told you, I took nothing personally, nor do I regret it happening. What I do know is that I greatly appreciate that I got to know the mystery scoundrel; for not only is he handsome and witty, but also very insightful and a great conversationalist.” As he pulled his hand back, Thancred found himself wanting to catch it.

He made a note to watch himself. He was drunk and would not sleep with the man he was trying to recruit. Work and play did not oft mix well.

“Yes, well, I am glad that I could make your arrival a story worth telling, though I ask you to refrain from sharing it.” He cleared his throat and fussed with his collar, “As for your other points, wit is typically at its best when matched with someone of equal or greater skill, and a conversation only works well when the other person can provide a meaningful contribution. You are quite an interesting one, Dorym Aurelius.” He stood and felt his head spin, “Alas, I fear I’ve spent too much time here. This simple check-in went a little longer than anticipated.”

The man pouted, pulling at Thancred’s heartstrings. He could stay here all night; he wanted to, but the balance was off now, and he was unsure of his ability to converse competently anymore. Here he was, worried that Dorym found their conversations awkward after passing out twice in his presence, but it was Thancred making a fool of himself this entire time.

Dorym rested his chin on his closed hand and looked up at the man, “Of course, of course. I will not keep you, but before you go...” He gave Thancred a soft smile and, with softer words, said, “I want to thank you. For everything. I did not get to thank you at the Sultantree, nor with the golem….”

The Hyur’s brows knitted together, “I did nothing at the golem. I was late, and you were injured because of it.”

Dorym beamed at the other man. “You still showed up. ‘Twas plenty helpful. Same with our conversations tonight, you did not need to show up, but you did. They’re little things, but they add up. I daresay this might be the best evening I’ve had so far in this hellish place.”

His first thought was to offer to make the night even better elsewhere, but he knew better. Still, he smiled, happy that he could assist in any way. He bowed deeply and with a flourish, “And may you have many great nights to come. Fare thee well.”

He saw Momodi, chin resting in her hands with a very, very smug grin looking directly at them when he stood. He noted that he would have to have a word with her later and turned on his heel and left, knowing damn well that looking back would cause him to lose the rest of his night.

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

Dorym Aurelius watched the man leave, and once the door shut behind him, he let out a sigh. The night sky peeking in made him acutely aware of how much time he lost in conversation. He chuckled to himself as he stood and stretched. It had been a while since Dorym was able to have that much fun in conversation.

He loved being a tease, but he did worry that he may have pushed it too far. The other man was undoubtedly a flirt but also almost certainly straight. It was the same game Dorym played, after all. His preference may have been men, but he was no stranger to crossing gender lines for coin or information. It was likely the same story.

Still…a man can dream.

[jennygirl2014]

Birthday Cake~ Chapter One

Summary: You had good intentions.  You really did.  It just all went downhill so fast....

Word count: 3233

Warnings: 18+, NSWF, adult themes, swearing, masturbation

              You were on your way over to Steve’s apartment, already feeling uneasy about your upcoming visit.  There were several reasons why you tried to make good with America’s golden boy, but you just hadn’t been able to get on his good side. Working for Tony Stark, that was one thing, he and Steve butt heads all the time, and that didn’t work well in your favor.  Second, you didn’t have the cleanest record.  Tony had implemented an intervention program where he found local people who had previous trouble with the law, and he turned their lives around by turning them into technological whizzes.  He called it Stark’s Restart Program.  The public loved it, and it helped to further fund his many other operations.  You got caught robbing houses at age 16, you were a professional even, but when you got the choice between going to juvy, and eventually prison, or entering Stark’s program, you gave up your profession. Were you a technological whizz? Not even close.  Technology was not your forte, yet Tony kept you on as a regular employee, thus keeping you out of trouble for many years.  No more drugs, no more burglaries, but still lots of partying, because that’s one thing Tony was all about.  If it weren’t for him, you didn’t know where you would have been in life.  

              The third reason was obvious, the age difference. Being in your best years, you were all about fun, and trends and enjoying life.  You had that “forever young” mentality, that” you only live once” attitude, you were in your prime and you were going to have fun.  Steve, whose age you couldn’t even quite calculate, was the total opposite.  You had a few tattoos, lip and nose piercings, and your hair always seemed to change colors. But why not?  You worked hard, you played hard, Tony paid you well.  You turned your life around.  You deserved to have fun.  Steve occasionally made comments about your appearance or what you were doing that somewhat rubbed you the wrong way.  “What made you want to have purple hair?” “Another tattoo?  You know those are permanent.” “Back in my day, we didn’t have to listen to music so loud we could go deaf to enjoy it.” “Women used to dress so…differently.” You were sure he didn’t see eye to eye with your lack of modesty, but that wasn’t going to change.  You were civil with each other, but you wouldn’t have ever called him a friend.  

              Which was a shame…because boy was he one fine looking man.  Although his traditional ways sometimes irked you, you could always look past it, as long as you found something good to look at.  And there was always something good to look at when it came to Steve.  You hated that he had to be such a prude, because his smile would make your temperature rise.  Part of you felt rather embarrassed, but you couldn’t deny the way your mind sometimes went to those dark and dirty places.  Just the other week he had bent over to pick something up and you ended up intently staring at his ass for at least three whole minutes.  But at least knowing that you were not his type kept the daydreaming from getting too out of hand.  

But what girl didn’t look at Steve Rogers that way?

“He should be home; you know with his curfew and bedtime and all that.” Tony’s voice carried through the Bluetooth speaker in your car.  “Just use the drive I gave you to install the upgrade on his computer.  I offered to talk him through it but…well, you know.”

“What’s wrong with his computer?” you ask.

“He says it’s been slow, and he keeps getting pop ups.  He spends so much time surfing the web trying to catch up on everything, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a virus on there.  Maybe you could check it out.  You know, if you can handle that.” He jested.

“Listen, I may not know how to build a circuit board, but I can check for viruses.  I learned some things.” You defended yourself.  

“Yeah, I’m sure you have.” He continued to tease, “Anyway, in and out, no fuss.  Oh, but don’t forget his present.” He reminded you.  It was Steve’s birthday, and while Tony had offered a get together, Steve had declined.  You looked over at the medium sized box with a ribbon on it sitting in your passenger seat and suddenly thought the worst.  

“Tony?” you started.

“Yeah?”

“This isn’t another prank is it?” the last thing you wanted was to be caught up in Tony and Steve’s little rivalry.  But Tony didn’t play by Steve’s rules, Steve would go about things diplomatically, while Tony sometimes just tortured the poor guy.

“No!  Not at all, don’t worry about it.  I wouldn’t do that to you.” He sounded honest, and you felt slightly relieved.

“Okay, because, you know he’s already not the fondest of me.”

“Don’t say that.  He just doesn’t know how to handle someone like you.  I mean, with the piercings, and the hair…” he trailed off.  “You know most people wouldn’t hire you with that unique sense of style, but I find it exhilarating.”

“Yes, thank you again for allowing me to be myself.” You must have said it a million times to him over the years.  And then you wondered why he was making himself out to be the world’s greatest boss again, aside from the usual ego trip.  

“Anyway, just check out the computer, give him the present and call it a night.” Tony repeated himself.

              Yes, that was the plan, but it was only part of your particular plan.  Steve had generously lent you his jacket the previous week, which was extremely flattering, and you intended on returning it.  Of course, you had held onto it a few extra days, just because.  You may have even worn it once while sitting on the couch, eating ice cream and watching a few romantic movies, but nobody had to know.  Another thing nobody had to know was that you had purchased a small cake, which was sitting neatly by the present Tony had asked you to deliver.  It was nothing fancy, yellow cake with white, red and blue icing, and it simply read “Happy Birthday”, nothing more.  It all appeared innocent enough, right?  Were you making it obvious that you wanted to be in his good graces?  Maybe. But “bold” was your middle name.  

              You parked on the street in front of his apartment and somehow managed to carry his jacket, the present and the cake all in your hands.  The little USB drive simply fit in your pocket, no need to fuss with that.  Of course, then again, you were there to install a new program on his computer, and if it was just sitting in your pocket, maybe it looked like it wasn’t the main reason for your visit.  You started to overthink the entire situation, and decided to carry the drive in your hands as well, just to maintain the right idea. You managed the stairs, which wasn’t easy, especially in those pumps you loved so much.  They weren’t easy to walk in, and your toes were starting to hurt in them.  

              Once you reached his door, you knocked lightly, somehow managing to tap your knuckles on the wooden door without dropping anything. There was nothing.  No sound, no stirring, nothing.  You knocked again.  Still nothing.  With a sigh you knelt down and placed everything on the floor and got your phone out of your purse, dialing Tony.  It rang four times and he picked up.

“I thought you said you could handle checking for viruses.” Tony didn’t even greet you.

“Um… yeah, I can.  Or at least I would, if he were home.” You corrected him.

“He’s not home? That’s odd.” Tony sounded perplexed. “Maybe he went out to some diner for the old timer’s special.”

“So…what now?” you asked your boss what to do.

“Well…” he paused, “You used to sneak into houses, right?” You blinked in disbelief of what he was possibly suggesting. “Hello?” you went silent.

“I’m here.  And yeah, I did, but…”

“But what?”

“I’m not about to break into Captain America’s apartment.” You sounded astonished just talking about it.

“But you’re not really breaking into anything.  You’re not going to break down his door or whatnot.  You can just let yourself in, leave the USB drive, and the present, on his counter and let yourself out.  He won’t mind.”

“How do you know that?” you weren’t so sure.

“Trust me.  He really needs that upgrade and I really want him to get that present today.  It is his birthday after all.”

You thought it over, and then huffed. “Fine.”

“That’s a good sport. Thank you much.” And Tony hung up without saying goodbye, in typical Tony fashion.  

“Ugh, Tony.” You muttered as you stayed knelt down and drew in a deep breath.  You looked around the hallway, over your shoulder on both sides to make sure nobody was watching before standing up.  

              Your fingers instinctively found the two bobby pins in your hair and you pulled them out.  Perhaps it was some of that old habit that hadn’t died out of you yet, but two bobby pins in your hair was the norm.  Just in case. You angled them in your hands, just as you remembered, and inserted them into Steve’s lock.  You felt ridiculous, but at the same time, kind of daring.  It was a momentary rush, just a small reminder of the thrill you used to get.  You worked the lock for some time, not having any luck, and just as you were about to give up, you felt the pins insert into that perfect spot.  You rotated your wrists and unlocked the door seamlessly. Bingo.

              With a small grin you put the bobby pins back in your hair.  “Still a badass.” You complimented yourself.  You managed to get the armful of goods back into your grasp and stood up with them, shimmying your hips a bit to straighten out your skirt.  The air stayed captive in your lungs as you slowly nudged the door open and allowed yourself to step inside to Steve’s apartment, and after taking a step in, you used your heel to close the door behind you.

              You were eager to take it all in.  You had always wondered what his place was like, and now you were seeing it.  Even with the lights off, you could make out all the details around you from where you stood.  The old black and white photos of Yankees stadium on the wall, his contemporary style light fixtures, which you were sure came with the apartment.  There was a decent sized TV in front of a red couch. But over in the corner sat an old radio and record player, and next to that a blue recliner.  It looked worn, and you were sure that he spent most of his time there, looking out the window and reminiscing of older times. It was the typical man’s apartment, no fancy centerpieces on the table, a couple books laying around, nothing special.  But the air smelled of him, and you inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of musk, cologne and aftershave.  There was a hint of cedarwood in the air that tickled your nose.

              Finally, you remembered why you were there, and you took small steps further into the apartment, still looking around.  The kitchen was small, and spotless.  The carpet was a casual tan.  You were tempted to take a quick look into his bathroom to see what soap and shampoo he used.  You felt silly, like a little girl who finally got to see how their crush lives at home.  But you didn’t belong in there, you had to get in and get out.  So, you turned the corner, assuming the hallway led to his bedroom, and you saw the cracked door into the dark room.  Only it wasn’t dark, there was a flickering light.  

              Maybe he was home and had fallen asleep.  Maybe that was a second TV he had in his bedroom. You swallowed hard, worried that you would disturb him and wake him up, and make him mad.  You shouldn’t have just let yourself in.  If you just put the stuff on the counter and ran off, he would still know what you did.  What about making it a surprise?  

Yeah!  That would work!

              Just sneak in, catch him off guard but smile wide and say “surprise” as you give him back his jacket and present the tiny cake.  And work on his computer.  No big deal. So, you took another step closer to the cracked door, seeing the flickering light and holding your breath.  It would be okay. He couldn’t stay mad with a present and cake, right?  You could play it off, you were clever.  Your elbow lightly touched the door and you started to lean in, preparing to ease the door open wider. A smile was already spreading across your lips.

              But then it hit your ears, a weird sound.  A moan?  A groan?  A yawn? Maybe he really was asleep.  The sound came again, but then something else followed.  A woman’s voice. Was there a woman in there?  It didn’t sound like there was another person there, it sounded like it came through a speaker.  His TV maybe, or his computer.  Which you were there to fix.  All good, no worries, it would be fine.  You pushed the door open further, and then planted both feet it the doorway.  

              His back was to you, you would catch him off guard. He was sitting at his computer; his bed was against the wall to the right.  Okay, don’t yell surprise, just whisper it, you thought.  But then you saw it, the little bit of screen shining at you from around his large silhouette.  Skin tones, odd.  What was it? A movie?  And then you saw what looked like a woman’s bare ass, shaking, jiggling, another moan.  And his silhouette wasn’t smooth, it was moving.  His right arm, shaking.  A grunting sound?  

He released a breathy moan that made it very apparent what was going on. The woman’s voice on the screen carried louder, that raspy pitch of a woman in the throes of pleasure.  You had just walked in on the poor, innocent man pleasuring himself, to an adult movie.  Captain America was in front of you, with his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him, and his dick in his hand.

You panicked, bad.  That cold sweat kind of panic.

The words that were about to come out of your mouth were instantly sucked back into your lungs and your brain scrambled as you immediately realized you had overstepped your boundaries, big time.  You went to shuffle backwards, preparing to dart out of the room, but your back hit the door that had partially closed behind you, knocking you off your balance.  Your heel caught something, probably your other foot, and the next thing you knew, you were going down.

You went crashing down on the floor without an ounce of stealth or pride and everything in your arms spilled with you.  The commotion of it all startled you, and it definitely startled Steve, who had no idea about your presence until that very moment.  He shot out of his chair, standing and spinning around, eyes wide and his member still in hand.  His pants dropped to his ankles as he scrambled to cover himself, letting out some sort of sound that could only be described as a half shout half snort sort of thing. You, on the other hand, shamelessly screamed.  You held up your right hand in a flash, trying to shield yourself from his view, or rather block the view of what was in his hand from your eyes.  

To make matters worse, in your mad dash to get back on your feet, you kicked the present from Tony, tearing off the lid and thus somehow setting free a flurry of glitter that erupted from the contents and covered half of the room in the matter of a mere second, including you where you sat.  A mechanical, prerecorded laughing sound started emitting from the box.  Was it laughing at you? No. This was no gift.  This was a prank.  Damn Tony and his lies.  The mocking faux laughter continued as Steve gripped whatever contents were on his desk and attempted to cover his bottom half, a mix of papers, a book and a mousepad. By then you were scrambling onto your feet, but not before your hand sunk into the cake, which was now mysteriously missing its box and had been dumped on the floor, and your hand skidded forward, causing you to face plant in a mound of cake and icing.  

“Y/N…!” Steve shouted, probably coming to his senses. You swore you heard his voice crack a little.

              Somehow, by God’s grace, you had managed to get to your feet, despite your wobbly knees, and being partially blinded by glitter and icing, and you took off in a mad dash down the hall, back to Steve’s front door, leaving a trail of mushy cake and glitter in your blaze.  You ripped that door open and pulled it shut behind you, but didn’t waste a moment to make sure the door actually closed, and your heels were click clacking as your sprinted your sorry ass out of his apartment building.  Getting down the stairs would have been easier if you had just jumped from the floor you were on down to the landing, because you must have twisted your ankles a half dozen times as you stumbled down to the ground floor.  You wondered how you managed not to break your fancy heels, or your ankles, or your neck, in the process of running from your shame. And what were you hearing as your ran? The echoing of your profanities.

“Oh shit!  Oh fuck!  Oh shit, oh shit!  Holy shit! Holy fucking shit!” you said it over and over, like a mantra, like a prayer turning into your last words. “Oh my God!  Oh God! Oh shit!  Oh shit!”

              You raced out to your car, limping and trying to frenziedly wipe the icing and glitter from your face, from your shirt, and your skirt, and your knees.  You threw yourself into the driver seat and fumbled with your keys, dropping them and tossing them between your hands. “Oh man!  Oh shit!  Fuck! Fucking keys!  Shit! Shit, shit!” your eyes were burning from the icing and glitter, both clouding your vision.  You instinctively reached for your half empty water bottle in the cup holder, unscrewed the lid and dumped the water onto your face, trying to rid the burning from your eyes.  More profanities and more yelling, and maybe now some tears thrown into the mix.  

It all happened so fast! And yet, you felt like it was all in slow motion.  You stomped on the gas pedal, aching ankle be damned, and you were out of there.  

Nothing would ever compare to the humiliation you were feeling in that moment. You were convinced the shame would kill you, and you were even more upset that it actually wouldn’t.

[lokidrabbles]

Sweet-Scented Alien (Loki x Reader)

Loki has another difficult night and the reader takes care of him

A/N: Another Loki has really bad nightmares one shot! I know I kinda go all over the place with this one, but I tend to have a lot of ideas for Loki’s POV. However, I hope you all can enjoy! As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: Suggested smut, but not really

The same nightmare continued to torment the Asgardian prince. The destruction of Asgard, the loss of his parents, and the Titan’s enormous grasp around his neck would resume like a broken record until a morbid snap in his neck would shove him awake into the real world.

He gasped for air as his body jolted him awake, frozen in place while his mind still processed the tangibility of his surroundings. He would instinctively reach to feel the back of his neck, an effort to make sure it still remained in tact. He still remained in one piece, and he considered himself unworthy of his blessings.

The mad Titan still lingered somewhere out there, in search of Loki, in search of unimaginable power. Loki had the fortune of being able to stay out of the Titan’s radar for this long, but the possibility still remained. He was out there, and Loki hid himself away like a coward, here with you, exposing you to the unimaginable danger.

Tonight’s was especially vivid, and he couldn’t imagine such a brutal way to be permanently discarded of. He quickly dug his nails into his forearm, making his pain evident for him to fully bring himself in focus. He attempted to stabilize his breathing, but his efforts remained futile for now. He avoided wanted to wake you up, but you were always sensitive about these things, and as if on cue, he felt you shift and slowly turn towards him.

“Hey, Loki. What’s wrong?” He heard you say softly.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” He responded hastily, but only to still catch his breath.

“You’re shaking. Did you have another bad dream?” He sensed your concern grow, feeling you sit upwards against the backboard of your bed.

It was difficult to admit he did. Not only did he detest seeing you worry about his well being, as that was his obligation to you, but he detested how vulnerable he appeared in front of you. He’d dread at the possibility of being perceived as weak, someone incapable of protecting you, all because of a dream.

“Please, I don’t need you to hold my hand constantly over this.” He responded, intending for it to come out as disconnected as he could.

“Loki, you’re literally shaking.” You said as a matter of fact. Loki soon felt the touch of your palm over his cheek, relishing in the warmness you provided. “You’re freezing too.”

Adrenaline rushed through him at the though of his body temperature dropping dramatically. You weren’t jesting about something this, and he knew his mental and emotional vulnerability must have triggered some part of his frost giant biology to act defensively. He needed to gain control ASAP, before something worse appeared.

“Err, I think I should just rest somewhere else, just so I won’t continue waking you up anymore. Perhaps, that couch in your living room?”

“What? Loki, don’t be stupid. I want you to stay here with me, especially if you had another nightmare like that.” You said while tugging at his forearm, seemingly disregarding his unusual coldness.

You were a fool, but his heart fluttered at your clinging. “Very well. However, I am a little apprehensive about resting. I honestly will stay up for the remainder of the evening.”

“Guess I’m staying up with you too.”

“You really mustn't stay up. You don’t enough rest for your human body as it is, no matter how much I lecture you about it.”

He could see you roll your eyes within the darkness. “You have to let me take care of you Loki, that’s part of the deal we had.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Uh-huh.”

Loki felt the covers flying off of you as you rose up from your bed, padding gently across your floor. You made your way into your bathroom, flicking the lights on and beginning to rummage through your belongings.

Loki squinted at the sudden brightness, peering off the side to catch a glimpse at whatever you were doing. “(Y/N). You must come rest.”

“I will.” You exclaimed from afar. “But I got something for you first.”

Damn. “Stop with the foolishness. I told you I’m fine.”

You didn’t respond, and Loki could only hear you still rummaging. He focused his hearing to catch anything pertinent, before he would justly stomp into that bathroom, pick you up, and toss you back into bed. This was his own issue to deal with after all and he still cringed at the idea of having this mortal, this human, willingly tend to him.

His ears perked at the sound of a squeaking hinge, and then of running water. Oh no.

You slowly stepped out, your pajama sleeves rolled at the way up to your elbows. Your hair was still a mess, and the circles under your eyes suggested you definitely had not gotten enough sleep this night. But still you stood there, and even in your most dullest appearance, Loki still thought you were lovely.

“Okay, start getting naked.” You said through a yawn.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m drawing you a warm bath dummy. You’re sticky, and maybe you can relax more if your body warmed up too.”

The act of kindness was too sickening for him. Loki was a frost giant, and although he always maintained good homeostasis over his own biological temperature, he would always be naturally a bit colder than most aesir or humans. It wasn’t something to be saddened about, it was simply how he was. And yet, with your best efforts, you still desired to provide him with relief, even if it probably wouldn’t have any effect on him at all. It was all charming, and Loki had grown very unused to having someone mend his perceived suffering. Again, he felt his heart flutter at the notion.

“You cannot be serious.” He said flatly, a small piece of him hoping you’d still pester him about it.

“Come one, you’ll feel much better. And then after, I promise I’ll go back to sleep, deal?”

“Hmm. You strike up a difficult bargain, human. But very well, if it will get you off my back and get you some rest.”

You provided Loki with two thumbs up, sealing the verbal agreement. Loki groaned, pushing himself off the bed and beginning to discard his clothes. From the corner of his eye, he could see you leaning on the doorway into your bathroom, blatantly ogling at him and his bare body. Not that Loki really minded. In fact, he felt some sense of pride at how easily you’d become distracted at his nude form. Which of course meant you wouldn’t have eyes for anyone else.

“You’re staring.” He said teasingly.

“Guilty as charged. Now come on, before I start getting any more ideas.”

Loki  trudged behind you into your bathroom, a heavy scent filling his nostrils immediately. It was sweet and nutty, and he immediately identified this scent as your own. There would be days, special occasions, where you would bathe in this sweet almond scent. He thought it was purposeful, for he would be unable to keep his hands off of you, rejoicing in the intoxicating smell gently coming from your hair and skin.

“You’re not getting nude as well?” He asked disappointingly.

“Good idea. But my tub is too small, and it wouldn’t be as fun as you’d imagine.” You reached over to grab his wrist, coaxing him towards your tub.

Steam began to tickle at his nose, and he raised a questioning eyebrow at the ridiculous amount of soap and foam rising. “This wasn’t necessary.”

“Sure it was, go ahead and dip in.”

He sighed, knowing he had to oblige in fear that you would become upset at him. He carefully took one step in, shivering at the sudden exposure to the searing temperature. The heat would soon cool off as soon as he’d emerge his entire body in, but of course you didn’t realize that would happen. Nevertheless,  he slowly submerged himself (or as much as he could), enjoying the brief heat that engulfed his skin. He inhaled and let out a deep breath, sinking his hair into the bubbly water. The almond scent now fully took over his entire sense of smell, and he closed his eyes. He imagined this heat as your own, this smell as your own, covering him entirely.

You had perched beside him and your tub, seemingly not minding the water that had splashed over. You dipped a finger in, as if making sure the temperature was adequate enough for him. Another yawn escaped your mouth while doing so and Loki immediately took notice.

“You’re exhausted and you’re making it very obvious. Now, this was your own doing. I don’t want to be blamed for this in the morning.”

You waved your hand to dismiss his comment. “That’s not what’s important right now. How are you feeling?”

“A tad ridiculous with my knees protruding out like so. But yes, the water is quite nice.”

As sleepy as you were, he saw you beam with joy. “Good to hear. I’m hoping this means you’ll be more open to my methods here.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll stop worrying and go back to bed.” Part of it was true, and the other part mostly involved still wanting to appease you.

“Oh stop it.” You said, playfully splashing some water at him. “Let me do this for you, it’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.”

That last part was hard to fully accept. Truly, he didn’t think he’d done much for you. Or at least, he interpreted it much differently than you did. He knew humans were very meticulous in their way of expressing love and care, and while he was no stranger to it, he was rusty about it. The closest thing that popped in his head was that time he carried you back home after you had gotten inebriated, but he was certain you didn’t want to hear about that again.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but that’s a bit of a stretch for my liking.” He said, dipping his head backwards into the water.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just not sure if what you say is true. I can easily go inside your mind and find out for myself. But even so, I doubt I’d believe that.”

“Believe what, that you haven’t done anything for me?” You asked incredulously.

“I suppose that’s the curse I carry. You know, still being apprehensive about all of this.” He knew it sounded harsh, to even question his relationship with you, but a big function of this relationship was his honesty with you. He knew you wouldn’t cast him away with these words, but there was a speck inside of him that would be terrified of the notion.

He saw your lips twist disapprovingly, and then you shoved a chunk of bubbles right into his face. “You know, for being insanely intelligent, you can be pretty damn stupid too.”

His brows furrowed, shoving away the soapy residue from his face. “Not exactly what I expected to hear.”

“Loki, I’d like to safely think that us sleeping together, having sex, sharing meals, dealing with our worst attitudes on a daily basis, and screwing around with Tony Stark should at least suggest something to you.” You said aggressively. “You think I’d just let anyone call me a stupid human with no discernible reason.”

He opened his mouth temporarily to spew out an argument, but promptly sealed his lips once he noticed how irked you had become. He often enjoyed irking you about several things, but this wasn’t the best way to go at it. He could tell from your approach and body language that you were dead serious about it, and he genuinely wanted to believe that.

“You really need to get it through your head that you matter to me, like a lot.” You continued, standing up and reaching over to grab one of your towels. “I really don’t know how else to say it so you can fully understand.”

“Perhaps, there is something you could do. You know, just so I can understand better.” He said lowly, almost muttering it.

“Oh, and what exactly is that?”

“I’m going to need you to come closer. Come kneel beside me.” He said, his voice low and sultry.

A smirk appeared on your face, following his words and perching next to him and beside your tub again. He lifted his upper body, lather and water spilling all across his chest and arms and leaned into your lips. He heard a quick ‘oh’ escape from you, satisfied at how quickly you had responded to his actions. In one swift move, Loki grabbed your forearm, and yanked you into towards him. You cursed and fell face forward into him and into the now lukewarm water, splashing and making a terrible mess of all things. Loki saw how your legs flailed comically and couldn’t hold back the irresistible grin decorating his cheeks. You must have flopped around for a good minute or so until you managed to hold yourself up by your arms, hair and clothes absolutely drenched.

“Ehehehe.” He sniggered, loving the absolute look of indignation you shot at him.

“God, why do you have to be such a dick?” You muttered, along with some other offensive words.

“That’s it. That’s all I needed, I fully understand now. Thank you so much for that spectacle (Y/N). I believe I can say with confidence that I truly enjoy being with you as well.” 

“You’re such a little shit, oh my god.” You lunged at him, making your best attempts to push his head underwater. “Why are you always making me fall for stupid shit?”

“Darling, please!” He exclaimed, grin still very present. “Please don’t end me in such a way. Not at least till you get rid of those soaked garments first.”

“No fucking way-”

“Ah, fucking? You’ve read my mind indeed. Well, if you are suggesting it.”

You groaned loudly, standing up, hair and clothes dripping wet. You stomped out in a fury, muttering things along the way which Loki could only catch as another clear ‘fuck you.’

He followed suit and rose from the water, tip toeing behind you while soap suds still fell from his bare body. The nightmare from earlier that evening would soon be long forgotten, and although Loki’s attempts at getting down and dirty with you wouldn’t be successful, there was something much more important at hand, something he’d fully come to realize with his little prank.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Tuesday 6th July 2021

♫ feelin’ hot, hot, hot♫

I jest!

Here’s this morning’s garden view and the first bit of news I saw today was that train services to London were disrupted because of a tree down across the line. It’s more like late Autumn/early Winter. Just look at the grey sky.

We’ve had an awful lot of rain lately but last night it kept waking me up and so I was reading quite a bit. I’ve got a book on my kindle app at the moment which is undemanding, but keeping me entertained. It’s called I Can Go Home Again After, Right? by Jayne Tebbutt, It’s in diary form, written in a light-hearted, conversational style, recording the author and her partner’s travels around the English and Welsh canal waterways. There’s no particular story or development in mind, it’s a series of observations, from which, so far, I’ve learned that squirrels can swim and that I really wouldn’t be cut out for living on a narrow boat for more than a night or two. To be fair, I already had that self realisation. I know that the TV programmes I’ve seen on canal holidays - usually involving celebrities having adventures - are something I view entirely through rose tinted spectacles. 

Oh, I forgot, I’ve also learned that on the waterways boats should pass each other on the right hand side (left (port) sides adjacent)  which is the opposite of UK road rules. I also found myself searching the internet around 4am to ascertain which side of a canal is the ��offside’ which the author didn’t know.  Apparently it’s the side without a tow path. Clearly then, the side with a tow path is the near side. Sorted. This information had me further googling to see if there are any canals with a path both sides, funny how you should know these things, but all of a sudden a question is raised.  It’s a real chain reaction once you start. So far all I’ve found is this

Link to revelatory blog  - enjoy, it’s interesting and the comments prove it’s not just me whose mind starts wandering.

vintage pic from the Wilts and Berks Canal Trust

Tow Path at Wikipedia.

Some photos from yesterday afternoon

I wrote yesterday about all the Jackdaws and as I’ve just wafted away something approaching an estimated 70 or thereabouts, I thought I’d post some pics from across the lane where they’ve been congregating from time to time. They seem to travel from the fields beyond the woods behind us, stopping to raid our feeders and then to the fields opposite. What an absolute carry-on it is while they’re about it.

I couldn’t manage to capture them all in one go and have had to filter the colours a bit so you can actually make out the birds. 

The photo up above of the very blue sky and fluffy white clouds was from the back of the house - and was a huge improvement on the early skies which lead me to write about blue Monday...as in feeling blue, not seeing it. You know what I mean.

So the garden’s been a bit glum really and no Inspector Pritchard here to brighten it up. He seems to have decamped over to K’s for the duration. 

guest photo courtesy of neighbour K

First off he possibly thinks he’s found a friend over there, because he’s spending a lot of time looking in the garden mirror, but secondly, K told me (after researching it) she made him a scrambled egg supper. I’m not surprised he likes it at theirs, he’s being treated like royalty. K’s going out today to get him some game bird food and I’ve asked if she can get us a bag too, so if he does return, we can offer him that as well: got to keep our standards up.

LATE EDIT:

They’re here again right now

[my-major-is-k-howard]

She

Inspired by “She” by dodie. Oh, poor oblivious Cathy. 💙 Things must get worse before they get better unfortunately. Despite that, I hope you all enjoy this part!

Word Count: 4466

Trigger Warnings: anxiety attack, self-deprecating thoughts

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

————————————————————

Part 4

A quiet knock at her door broke Cathy out of her reading. She let out a sigh and put her book down. Cathy hated it when she had to stop abruptly in the middle of a chapter.

“Who is it?” Cathy called out as she slid off her bed and walked to the door.

“It’s Anne. Dinner’s ready! Jane made chicken nuggets!” Anne’s excited voice made Cathy hesitate. Her hand stopped on the doorknob and she took a deep breath before forcing a fake smile onto her face. 

Cathy slowly opened the door and was met with the sight of Anne who immediately smiled brightly at her. Cathy felt her heart flutter in her chest at the sight as her own fake smile turned into a small genuine one. Cathy’s smile dropped however when she remembered that Anne was pining after someone else. 

“Okay. I’ll be right down,” Cathy responded as her gaze fell to the floor. Anne gave her a confused look before clearing her throat.

“Yeah! Okay,” Anne rambled nervously. “I’ll see you downstairs then.” Anne hesitated for a moment before making her way back down to the kitchen.

Cathy watched Anne walk away before turning back into her room with groan. Cathy didn’t mean to act weird around Anne but it was impossible to see her and not think of how desperately Cathy wanted her. And how unattainable she was.

Cathy quickly crossed the room to her bed and grabbed her book. She slipped one of her stray bookmarks into the pages and closed it before placing it on her nightstand. 

“Don’t be weird, Cathy,” she whispered to herself as she left her room and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. “Please, don’t be weird.”

Cathy entered the kitchen and sat down in her seat as quietly as possible, hoping not to draw attention to herself. She picked up her fork and poked at the chicken nuggets on her plate, not really in the mood to eat but not wanting to raise suspicion if she didn’t. She slowly began eating as she listened to the other queens’ conversation.

“Hey Kitty, can you pass the mustard?” Cleves asked, gesturing to the yellow bottle by her side.

“That’s disgusting,” Kitty commented as she passed Cleves the requested item. “I hate mustard.”

“Oh really?” Cleves asked, giving Kitty a mischievous smile. Before Kitty could reply, Cleves uncapped the mustard bottle and squirted an unnecessary amount of the yellow liquid in the middle of Kitty’s plate, dangerously close to the rest of her nuggets.

“NO!! ANNA! WHY??” Kitty complained and gave a disgusted look at her plate. “Now I can’t finish my food!”

“That’s for trying to steal the maple syrup from me this morning,” Cleves replied with a satisfied smile. “And you’ll be fine, Kitty! I didn’t get it on your food, which I definitely could have done. You’re welcome for that.”

“Stop bullying my cousin, Cleves,” Anne spoke up. “Unless you wanna catch these hands!” Anne squared up from her place across from Cleves before doubling over in pain. “Ow! That’s not fair! You kicked me!”

Aragon chuckled. “I think that’s pretty fair game, Anne. You asked if Cleves wanted to fight and she retaliated appropriately.”

  “Wow, Catherine! I am so hurt,” Anne exclaimed dramatically, bringing her hand to her chest in a demonstration of faux pain. “At least Cathy’s on my side. Right, Cathy?”

Anne turned to look at Cathy who was now frozen with panic at the mention of her name. Cathy looked up from her plate and mumbled out a few words. “Uhm, yeah. Sure.”  

Cathy looked down at her plate once more, missing the concerned looks the queens exchanged at her sudden change in demeanor.

Jane spoke up to break the uncomfortable silence that was growing. “I know what we should do! After dinner, we should have a movie night!”

The other queens expressed approval, except for Cathy. “You all can go ahead. I’ll join you another time,” Cathy responded, not too keen on spending the rest of her night in any other way than sulking in her room while reading.

“C’mon, Cathy! Join us!” Cleves pleaded before an idea struck her. “We can put on one of those crime documentaries you like so much.”

Though the thought was appealing, Cathy shook her head. “Maybe another time.”

“Or we can have a game night! Though I refuse to play Mafia again. We all get way too aggressive during that,” Aragon chimed in, hoping that Cathy would agree to her request.

“Yeah! We can play Scrabble!” Anne piped up excitedly before bumping shoulders with Cathy. “You love Scrabble!”

Cathy smiled weakly but still refused. “I think I’ll pass. But you all can do something without me. It’s fine, really.”

“No it’s not! It won’t be the same without you, Cathy!” Anne blurted out before turning beet red at her outburst.

Cathy opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by Kitty’s voice. “A sleepover! Let’s have a sleepover!” Cathy looked over to Kitty and was met with her pleading eyes. “Please, Cathy?”

Cathy sighed quietly. She already felt guilty for denying the other queens’ offers so Kitty’s final plea was enough for her to finally acquiesce. “Alright. Fine. I just want to finish the chapter I was reading in my book before I join. I stopped halfway through it before coming down for dinner.”

The queens let out a collective sigh of relief at Cathy’s response. “No problem, love,” Jane commented and smiled gently at Cathy.

“Yay! I’m going to bring my fluffy blanket from my room,” Kitty exclaimed excitedly, moving her chair back in an attempt to retrieve said item.

“Not so fast, Kitty! You still have to finish your dinner,” Aragon said.

“But there’s mustard on it!” Kitty complained, slowly scooting back to the table.

The rest of the queens’ dinner was quiet as they quickly finished their food in anticipation for their impromptu sleepover. Cathy, however, was slowly growing to dread what was to come. She knew that her friends were just trying to cheer her up but she would have much preferred to be alone in her room with her thoughts instead.

So, instead of reading the rest of her chapter like she said she would, Cathy spent those minutes in her bedroom in complete panic mode. Could she somehow find a way to get out of this? Would they let her escape if she just said she was sick? Why did Anne smile at her like that when she opened the door? Didn’t she have feelings for someone else? Was Cathy being selfish for enjoying her attention while it lasted?

Of course, her thoughts always led back to Anne Boleyn and her beautiful smile. Cathy shook the thought out of her head as she quickly changed into her pajamas. She would have to join the other queens downstairs soon or they would start to worry about her again. 

Cathy moved in front of her mirror and took a deep breath. It was just a sleepover, with her friends. There was nothing to be anxious about. Cathy breathed out slowly and felt much more calm. The queens cared about her; that’s why they were having a sleepover in the first place.

With that thought in her mind, Cathy left her bedroom and made her way down the stairs. As she entered the living room, she saw the queens sitting on the floor and laughing as Cleves told them one of her stories.

“- and that’s how I catfished a supermodel,” Cleves finished as the queens erupted into laughter. As Cathy got closer, she noticed that Jane had tears streaming down her face and was wheeze-laughing at the story.

“What’s so funny?” Cathy spoke up with a small smile. The queens turned to look at her with bright smiles.

“You made it!” Kitty piped up with a squeal from where she was snuggled up in her neon pink fluffy blanket.

Anne scooted to her right to make enough space for Cathy to sit next to her. Cathy noticed and slowly made her way to sit beside Anne. After she had made herself comfortable, Anne turned to Cathy and filled her in on the story she had missed. “So, apparently Cleves likes to catfish people on Tinder. She even got the attention of some supermodel and she broke their heart. Which is kind of mean but it’s super funny when she reads the text messages out loud.”

“In my defense, I ghost them after I get bored,” Cleves said with a laugh.

“That’s worse, Anna!” Kitty yelped and lightly smacked Cleves on the arm.

“Weirdly enough, those text messages remind me of this guy who unsuccessfully tried to win my heart,” Aragon commented.

“What?!” Cathy exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Yes! Tell us what happened, Catherine!” Anne chimed in.

“So, I was minding my business and reading the Bible in a park like I usually do on Sundays,” Aragon began. “I was sitting on a bench when this guy suddenly sat down next to me and handed me a letter. I reluctantly took it and began to read it. The words sounded really familiar until I realized that he had just written down chapter 4 of Song of Solomon. At the end of the letter, he had written his number with a little heart. As if I would call him after he plagiarized the Bible in an attempt to woo me. Needless to say, I stopped going to that park after that.”

By time Aragon finished her story, all of the queens were laughing together. Cathy realized how nice it was to have a good laugh with her friends. This was a much better way to spend her night than sulking in her room about her own misfortune.

“For the record, I totally would have called him,” Anne jested earning more laughter from the queens. “Do you still have the letter?”

“Sadly, I threw it away. Otherwise, I would give you his number so you could call him,” Aragon said. “Maybe you two would hit it off.”

“I doubt it. I have my eyes on someone else anyway,” Anne responded, sneaking a quick glance at Cathy that went completely unnoticed by her. The other queens all shared knowing looks while Cathy’s gaze dropped to the floor in disappointment. Cathy’s heart sank when she heard those words come out of Anne’s mouth. She didn’t want to be reminded of Anne’s feelings for the mystery girl, especially not when she was finally beginning to feel better after what had happened earlier.

Cathy was grateful when the other queens began telling more stories. Slowly, Cathy felt the sinking feeling in her chest change into an elated bubble of joy. She laughed so much at their ridiculous anecdotes, growing even more grateful for her friends. The queens had noticed how upset she was and decided to cheer her up in whatever way they could. It meant a lot to Cathy knowing that she had such amazing people in her life that she could always depend on.

Cathy looked around at each of the queens before her eyes landed on Anne Boleyn. She was slightly caught off guard when she noticed that Anne was already looking at her. When their eyes met, Anne tilted her head slightly to the side and smiled at Cathy. In turn, Cathy smiled back and stared into those gorgeous emerald orbs, letting herself get lost in their depths. 

Anne might have her eyes on someone else but right now she’s looking at me, Cathy thought to herself. And that’s all that matters.

“Ooh! Let’s play truth or dare!” Kitty exclaimed, breaking Anne and Cathy out of their moment. The queens agreed and started the game. They all had a great time watching each other answer embarrassing questions and completing funny dares. 

After Cleves had successfully completed Jane’s dare of prank calling one of their neighbors, she turned to Cathy with a smirk on her face that made Cathy nervous.

“Cathy, truth or dare?” Cleves asked.

“Truth,” Cathy answered simply, knowing better than to ask for a dare from Cleves.

Cleves smirked even wider as she began her question. “What do you write about in your journal?”

Cathy’s face paled at the question, knowing she couldn’t give an honest answer without professing her feelings for Anne. “I’m chickening out,” Cathy said with an embarrassed smile on her face.

“Laaaaame,” Cleves taunted.

“Oh, c’mon Cathy! It can’t be that bad!” Kitty added on. “Tell us!”

“No, absolutely not. There’s a reason it’s a private journal and not a public journal,” Cathy responded. “I’m officially chickening out of that truth.”

“Wow, I’m so disappointed,” Anne said, faking disapproval. “As someone who has never chickened out, it breaks my heart to see you turn to the dark side, Cathy.”

“Oh hush,” Cathy responded and playfully nudged Anne’s shoulder with her own. “It’s my turn then.” Cathy looked around to see who she should ask next. A brief thought of asking Anne who she had feelings for crossed her mind before she quickly dismissed it. Cathy didn’t know if she wanted to know the answer. She would rather just pretend that nothing was going on and everything was fine, just for tonight.

Instead, Cathy turned her eyes to Kitty. “Okay, Kitty. Truth or dare?”

Kitty’s eyes lit up as she responded. “Dare!”

Cathy thought for a moment before she came up with the perfect dare for the younger girl. “I dare you to eat a whole tablespoon of mustard.” A wicked grin stretched across Cathy’s face when she saw Kitty nearly burst into tears at the dare.

“NO! Cathy please!! Anything but mustard!” Kitty cried out.  

“Rules are rules, Kitty,” Aragon commented.

“Unless you wanna chicken out,” Jane chimed in.

Kitty hesitated, carefully pondering her options. Cleves began making chicken sounds as Kitty delayed her response.

“Kitty, don’t chicken out on me! I can’t lose you too!” Anne joked. Kitty gave her cousin a desperate look which Anne responded to by beginning to chant, “Do it! Do it! Do it!”

The queens joined in until five voices were chanting for Kitty to complete the dare. Finally, Kitty caved and said, “Okay! Fine! I’ll eat the stupid mustard!”

The queens followed Kitty into the kitchen and watched her as she squeezed the mustard into a spoon. A look of utter disgust passed over Kitty’s face as she brought the spoon to her lips. Slowly, the queens watched as she quickly put the spoon in her mouth and swallowed. Kitty gagged at the taste but gratefully took the glass of water that Anne was handing to her.

The queens cheered as Kitty downed the glass of water in a vain attempt to get the taste of mustard off her tongue. Kitty grimaced and placed the spoon and cup in the sink. Kitty looked at Cathy and shook her head. “I hope you’re happy. That was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Cathy giggled. “I’m sorry, Kitty!”

“Don’t apologize. I know you don’t mean it,” Kitty muttered as the queens made their way back to their spots in the living room. 

“It’s my turn now,” Kitty said and looked around at all the queens before her eyes landed on Anne. Cathy noticed the two cousins share a glance which caused a petrified look to pass over Anne’s face. Anne shook her head slightly but Kitty had already made up her mind. “Anne, truth or dare?”

Anne hesitated for a moment before responding. “Dare.”

Kitty glared at Anne momentarily before a satisfied smile passed over her face. “I dare you to kiss Cathy.”

Cathy’s mouth dropped in shock, mirroring the girl next to her. Had she heard that right? Did Kitty really just say that? Cathy was left at a loss for words. A storm of emotions and thoughts swirled in her mind about what Kitty had just said.

Cleves whooped loudly at Kitty’s dare and pointed to Anne, who was shifting uncomfortably in her spot. “You’re not going to chicken out of this, or are you Anne?” Cleves taunted. 

Much to Cathy’s surprise, Anne said nothing. She didn’t jump to defend her honor of never chickening out how she usually did. Cathy looked at her and saw Anne turn to her with soft eyes and a shy smile.

“We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” Anne whispered to Cathy, before dropping her gaze to the floor. “I can chicken out if you want.”

“Anne Boleyn! You never chicken out!” Cathy responded incredulously as Anne looked up to meet her eyes once more. “I won’t get in the way of that. I mean, it’s just a kiss.”

Just a kiss I dream about every night, Cathy thought to herself. She subconsciously bit her lip. Cathy was secretly looking forward to the kiss. She had wanted to kiss Anne for so long now that it almost didn’t feel real that it was actually about to happen.

“Yeah, just a kiss,” Anne said as she dropped her gaze momentarily from Cathy. A sad look passed over Anne’s face, though Cathy didn’t understand why. Anne looked back up with a tender look on her face that sent butterflies stirring in Cathy’s stomach. 

Anne brought her hand up to cup Cathy’s cheek gently, slowly caressing her cheekbone with her thumb. Cathy’s breath caught in her throat and she was suddenly hyper aware of everything around her. The feeling of Anne’s hand on her cheek, the soft look in those emerald green eyes, and the small smile on Anne’s face brought back all the love that Cathy had for the girl in front of her. The girl she was finally about to kiss.

Cathy’s gaze dropped to Anne’s lips, desperate to finally have them on her own. Cathy watched as Anne’s smile morphed until her mouth was slightly parted. She watched Anne quickly lick her lips nervously before feeling Anne pull her in slowly.

Anne leaned forward and connected their lips in a gentle, feathersoft kiss. Cathy felt her insides melt at the touch as the stirring of butterflies intensified. A million thoughts were running through her mind until it suddenly blanked when she felt Anne slowly begin to move her lips. Cathy reciprocated at the same pace, bringing her hand up to Anne’s cheek to feel more contact with the girl she loved.

They quickened their pace gradually, matching each other’s movements perfectly. Anne pulled Cathy closer to her, slowly tracing her bottom lip with her tongue. Cathy had to stifle a moan at the feeling which sent Cathy’s mind into overdrive. Cathy abruptly pulled away from Anne as very loud alarms blared in her mind, signalling that something was very wrong. 

Cathy’s mind was swirling with an endless hurricane of thoughts, threatening to drown her in their whirlpool. She suddenly felt out of control of herself and frantically looked around the room for a way out.

“Cathy, what’s wrong?” Anne’s concerned voice brought Cathy back to reality for a moment.

“No- nothing,” Cathy stammered, unable to look Anne in the eye. “I’m actually feeling pretty tired so I think I’m going to head to bed early.” Cathy quickly got up from her spot, not meeting any of the worried looks of the queens.

“Cathy, wait!” Anne exclaimed desperately, scrambling to her feet as well.

“Goodnight,” Cathy said quickly before rushing out of the room, leaving behind a very confused Anne with a brokenhearted expression on her face.  

Cathy ran up the stairs and into her room, shutting the door quickly before any of the queens decided to follow her. She collapsed against it as she began hyperventilating. What had she done? Why had Cathy agreed to that stupid dare? Now, she was worse off than she had ever been before.

Now, she not only had to deal with Anne’s feelings for someone else but also the fact that they had shared a kiss that meant nothing to Anne. But, it meant everything Cathy. The kiss had been magical, everything she had been dreaming about and more. But it still plagued Cathy to know that Anne felt nothing when she kissed her. To Anne, it was some silly dare that she had only done to keep her pride intact. 

That thought mocked Cathy. Anne probably felt guilty about kissing someone else while she was still pining after her mystery girl. The girl Anne actually cared about. The girl Cathy craved to be. All she wanted was for Anne to love her in return. Was that too much to ask?

Cathy huffed and tried to control her breathing. She took slow breaths until the feeling that she was suffocating subsided. She pushed away from her door and crossed the room to her desk, pulling out her journal in a rush. She quickly turned on her desk lamp and flipped to a free page before choking back a sob when she saw her bookmark. Those pictures mocked her, making her feel even more foolish for ever hoping that Anne would kiss her. Now that she had, it had only made everything worse.

Cathy threw the bookmark on the floor angrily and grabbed her pen. Cathy wiped at the tears she hadn’t even realized were streaming down her face. She had to get her feelings out before they consumed her. She had to write it out before she drowned in her own sorrows.  

Love is an ocean of torment and pain, black waters that rise and rage against all who dare to swim in its shallows. One moment I was wading in a crystal bay and enjoying the gentle waves crashing against my skin and in the next I was thrashing to get to the surface as vicious currents pulled me deeper, drowning me in my own despair. I understand why Aphrodite was born from the foam of such a volatile entity. Love changes like the tides of the sea, rising and falling in accordance to the hope that foolish lovers cling to as if for dear life.

I was foolish enough to hope for love. I bartered my heart for a kiss, only to find that lipstick marks are a mockery of what I wanted. I didn’t want a kiss. I wanted Anne Boleyn! I wanted all of her, every single part of her. I wanted her lips, I wanted her eyes, I wanted her smile, I wanted her affection, I wanted her desire. I wanted her to feel what I felt when she kissed me.

When her lips touched mine, I felt my heart come alive in my chest. It was as if it had been dormant my whole life and was suddenly awakened by Anne’s gentle touch. I saw the birth of the sun, a brilliant light that drowns out all darkness in the galaxy. I smelled fields of lemongrass and groves filled with vanilla flowers and overgrown honeysuckle bushes, the scent I always imagine breathing in right before I fall asleep. I heard the sound of windchimes softly ringing out a lullaby and the quiet whispers of the wind, telling me all the secrets of the earth as they billowed past my ear. And I finally tasted Anne on my lips. She tasted of everything good I could ever describe and more. She tasted like the first bite of my chocolate birthday cake from last year but better. She tasted like the warm coffee I drink to keep me awake while I read but stronger. She tasted like the candy we ate together after trick-or-treating last Halloween but sweeter. 

But Anne felt none of that. She didn’t see, smell, or hear what I did. She didn’t taste anything when she kissed me. My heart is cleaved in two when I think of how differently we experienced that kiss. We were the closest we had ever been when we kissed yet I have never felt more far away from Anne. While I was thinking about my endless love for her, Anne was concerned with her own pride. While my mind was reeling with the magic of Anne’s lips on mine, her mind was completely blank. 

I lament ever pleading for her kiss! It has brought me so much despair because now I realize that everything I want and everything I am will never be enough for Anne. My most precious memories are nothing but passing thoughts to her. The moments that keep me awake at night, those same moments I journal about, are forgotten by Anne when she wakes up the next morning. I am overrun by my feelings for her, feelings that she has no need or desire for. 

I can’t go on like this! I simply won’t. From now on, I will keep my feelings locked away in my heart and out of sight from prying eyes. I will consign my feelings to admiring Anne from a distance. I will harbor my love in a prison, not free to run rampant as I let it for so long. I will keep my distance so I can have a chance to heal my broken heart. Maybe then I can be the friend Anne deserves, the friend she needs me to be. At least I can find my peace in that role, even if I can’t have what I truly desire. But, I’m willing to make these sacrifices because Anne… my beloved Anne… means everything to me.

Cathy scribbled her name out at the bottom of the page and stopped writing as her tears returned with a vengeance. She put her pen down and rested her face in her hands as she quietly sobbed into them. Cathy stayed like that for a few minutes until a wave of exhaustion washed over her. She reached for the tissue box that she had gotten from Jane and hastily wiped the tears from her face.

Cathy sighed heavily before taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She slowly turned in her chair to find where her bookmark had landed. Cathy found it by her foot and sighed gratefully that it was face down. She picked it up and placed it back in her journal, keeping it face down the entire time. Cathy closed the journal and returned it to its place in her desk drawer. She reached over to her lamp and flipped the switch, plunging her back into darkness.

Cathy closed her eyes tiredly for a moment before lumbering her way to her bed. She crawled under her covers and tried to fall asleep, though her memories of the day kept her awake as they replayed in her head. Eventually, Cathy drifted into a restless sleep, plagued with nightmares of those green eyes and that devilish smirk.

[scoundrels-in-love]

Yesterday, I finished watching Healer, the must-see drama that, even years after its airing, garners new fans and stellar reviews.

Today, I am still processing how I feel about it.

When I stalked through the MDL page and various clip comments on YouTube, there were countless praises and a few bitter comments, but no middle ground, no somewhat-positive yet mellowed reactions. Yet, here I am, someone who is fond of it and didn’t find it boring, but can’t earnestly say I loved it. It is definitely the best action/romance kdrama mix I can remember seeing and I was grossly in love with their love from about halfway through (the rooftop scene!), despite my and my friend’s initial teasing over story’s first attempts to amp romance.

Of course, the polarity of feedback is one thing that’s Trademark about Internet - you share when you love or you hate, but rarely when in between. I will not be posting my 50/50 review on MDL, either, after all. 

But still, it left me wondering what was it that I needed from this drama that perhaps other watchers didn’t feel as necessary. It feels like breaking a law to rate it 8.5 and even part of me is aware it should be higher, because I’ve rated objectively worse dramas better, and yet that is my current rating.

So, I spent a lot of time at work trying to find how to word this in a way that’s not mean (because that’s not the intention) and to get down to root of the problem.

And I think it boils down to the fact that despite the title of this drama, the characters ain’t done much healing.* 🎶

Below the cut because Spoilers and also extensive rambling.

It’s not the rushed ending itself that puts me off, like the fact that we get no clear indication why Jung Hoo is recording the interview (which could’ve been prime angst material, with him fearing for his life), the way the tracker that we got our nose rubbed in at Elder’s bar led to nowhere (afaik), the way Moon Shik’s mental illness (and hypnosis?? by Elder??) was hinted and then dropped like that to be left never mentioned again, even the way that Moon Ho was implied to lie again by not telling Young Shin he’s seemingly revealed the truth to her mother, the way Young Shin was immediately rescued from apartment by her mother before farmers came and that violent scene SEEMINGLY at their apartment never occurred, among thousand other things (I will suspend my disbelief over the fact that whoever replaced Elder just let them prance off just like that or that the killer just left the scientist off the hook so simply), though they do add up.

But ultimately, the core of even those problems is something else, for me.

For a drama that mentioned Young Shin’s pain over being abandoned plenty of times toward the end and then somewhat solved it, by having her spend time and befriend her biological mother, even if we never got to have proper found-and-biological family moment, with the kids and Moon Ho around Myung Hee, I realized that even if there was such a moment, even if it included most of the rest of family cast, it’d very likely be missing someone very important.

Jung Hoo’s mother.

After attempt on Jung Hoo’s life, their good bye, and then dropping important Doubt Seed in Myung Hee’s mind, she was never heard from again. As if his own hurt over being abandoned didn’t matter anymore (even though it was referred even in the video interview, because it was why he had wanted to run off to a tropical island in the first place), just because we, as watchers, knew she left him to protect him. As if he didn’t deserve to know his mother had fought to clear his father’s name and been blackmailed just as horribly as he had been. As if he didn’t need to know, explicitly, that he was loved and wanted, and missed, and just how much his mother had tried to stand up against. That it wasn’t his face, too alike his father’s, that made her cry. (Remember when he echoed that hurt with Young Shin? Yeah.)

As if his mother herself didn’t deserve to know her husband’s name was cleared, as if she couldn’t have watched the broadcast and wept and wept, and wondered if Jung Hoo knew, as if she couldn’t have seen him on TV with the Elder and feared for his life, as if she couldn‘t have seen him getting shot, even if the image was blurry. As if she didn’t deserve to be accepted and embraced in their mish-mash family, beyond Myung Hee’s one attempt that was in the end, only there to be about her, plot and emotion wise, at this rate. As if she didn’t deserve to be forgiven and to forgive herself, because this was truly beyond something she could’ve went up against.

For a story that created such lovable characters that I got attached to against my will, the drama did very little to actually reward us or them for caring. We don’t get to see that Min Ja has healed in any way from loss of her child and her own guilt. We don’t get to see Young Shin overcome her fear of driving. We don’t get to see her father and biological mother becoming an item because they’d be great for each other. I jest. Again, we don’t even see Jung Hoo being healed at all, other than the fact he has immense dependency on Young Shin.

Even Moon Ho.

I was so convinced he was going to die because in that, he’d find redemption for failing to save them (and also, did we ever get to know how/why he had been first on the scene with farmer devastated apartment?) the first time, also as bitter last joke that he truly overcame his fear of being in action only to pay dearly for it. Yes, the angst and the pain of the kids for never really getting chance to share those stories with him, to have him as part of their family, would’ve been tremendous but it’d have been emotionally satisfying, somehow. Instead, we get him walking off with the woman that we get almost no basis of as to why they’d want to be together, other than stubbornness. Yes, she’s his friend and she’s set on having him, but she is also opposite in some unflattering ways and just... If we had seen her explicitly supporting him few times through his days at Someday, then maybe. And yet, there they were, as if she was his happy ending long denied, after all. Which is kind of ... Like he hasn’t been able to move on from attaching his entire happiness/worth to someone else’s fate, after all.

Almost ironically, Myung Hee is the one that has healed the most - overcoming her convulsions, she got to bottom of the mysteries and pains in her life, without dying. She’s mentally and even physically better than ever before. And I am happy for her, I am. And that makes me think of how much I’d love and melt if I had seen such healing and on-screen conclusion of arcs for these other characters. It’s proven I can forgive basically any plot fault if the ending is emotionally satisfying.

And I would have, especially because I truly did love these characters, ended up feeling for all of them more than expected. But I didn’t get to see them done justice and true happiness, to say proper good bye, and I was left with feeling of still hanging in the air, waiting for the other shoe to drop in a perfect dance step and knowing it will never come hurts.

Hence, my complicated emotions toward this drama.

[80s-roger]

Not On My Watch (part 4)

Pairing: Dad!Roger x Mum!Reader (mid-80s)

note: Sorry for waiting so long, my writing app wasn’t working properly, it wouldn’t save my draft, I had to re-write it. I also installed grammarly, but poor me, the free version isn’t enough and the premium kinda expensive. So here’s part four, there will be the next one soon, you’re not ready. also i have my birthday on monday so please give it some love and reblog it, comments will be appreciated.

summary: On this part, you get really close with Roger and narrate a great story from the past to your daughter Laura, which’s going to be continued on the next part :)

warnings: some dirty language somewhere hehe, but nothing uncomfortable.

word count: 3,155

part one // part two // part three //

also check: masterlist // dialogue-prompts 

taglist: @madeinheavxn @namelesslosers @stacymaytaylor​

(If you want to be tagged, ask me or send me a message)

Roger was on car with Laura, taking her back to his home. She didn’t know you were there.

"What do you mean daddy? An unusual surprise?" Laura asked as she got off her father's car. "You're not taking me to mum's home?" She added. "Nope, you'll see inside." He smiled at her and grabbed her hand, walking towards his front door. He slightly opened the door, checking if you're in the hallway or the living room. But you were nowhere to be seen. Laura seemed confused. "Let's go inside." He said, making way for her to get inside, ladies first. "Did you get me a puppy?" She excitedly remarked. She knows you don't like pets at home, so it's obvious she would want one at her father's place because he has a garden too. "A puppy?" His eyebrows narrowed. "Ah, no. You stay here, I'll tell you to come upstairs, though, when the surprise is here." He smiled at her before coming upstairs. "Fine, daddy, I'll wait here." She consented and approached the hanging records' certifications of each Queen album on the wall. She looked like a proud daughter. Roger quickly searched for your figure at his bedroom, thinking you might have finished your bath. But you weren't there. He didn't shout your name; Laura would possibly hear it and the surprise could be ruined. He opened the bathroom's door and saw you naked, at the procedure of wearing your towel. "Oh, fuck, I'm sorry, I thought you were still in the bath." He apologised and automatically closed his eyes, trying to respect your private time. "No, it's okay, besides, it's you." You giggled at his reaction. "Is Laura downstairs?" You turned to him after wearing the white towel around your body while your hair bun was finally loosened after drying your back. "Yes, I told her I have an unusual surprise for her. She has no idea you're here." He answered and closed the door behind him. "Aw, my baby..." you awed at the idea of her seeing you with her father while fixing yourself at the mirror. "But when will I go back home, Roger? I'm scared." You changed the topic, unable to forget what happened in the morning. "You won't go back home. You're with me now." He implored. "Woah, hold on, we are still divorced." You turned your body to him now. "Yeah, but it didn't count considering last night." He argued. "We didn't discuss it actually. I just apologised for my weird behaviour." You claimed yourself but your voice tone was getting kinda louder. "So you regretted it, didn't you?" He growled with his eyes getting wider from anger. "You felt guilty because R/N was your concern?" He asked trying to find his rights. "I didn't say I regret that. But it shouldn't have happened either..." you claimed, knowing already you're wrong. "Last night was perfect, I even asked you so many times if I should go on and you were all positive. What's going on now?" He was confused with your behaviour again but now he's unconfrontational enough to handle the situation well. "I know I did. But now you can't tell me I'm with you now. You know living together just doesn't work." Your tone was now lower than before, which is good. But you were tense. Both. "And with who are you now? That asshole beating you because you had sex with me? Make your mind and don't play me like a toy whenever you need it." He was pretty harsh to you now that a slap on his cheek was well deserved. "Don't talk about sex whenever you need it because you lose points there. Or shall I say gain?" You ironically raised your eyebrow, annoying the fuck out of him. "Ah don't refer my sleeping schedules when I'm on tour because I wasn't alone there." He asserted. "Oh, I'm sure. Three or more girls at your king-sized bed." You arrogantly rolled your eyes, turning your gaze back at the mirror. "I haven't fucked you against the wall for years, don't force me to do that now." His body dangerously approached yours, feeling the heat between you two burning your entire existence. You gotta admit you liked wall fucking. "Why? Are you too exhausted to fuck me against the wall?" You smiled as you challenged him on that. You wanted that like hell, but your kid downstairs might suspect anything. "What makes you think of that?" He smirked and pushed you against the wall, turning you around and now feeling his bulge pressing your butt. His hand moved in front of you, trying to rub your folds and give you an orgasm. His head was resting on your right shoulder, at the same side his hand was, giving you neck kisses and heavy breathings at your ear. "Not now." You moaned trying to pull your body away from his. "Laura is waiting downstairs, I have to get dressed." You bit your lower lip after turning around to face him. You baled out on Roger, now leading to his bedroom to find new clothes. But he followed you, feeling sure you would ask for help. "I don't have anything comfortable if you're searching for jeans or sportswear, but I can give you one of my t-shirts. They're large on you." he recommended. "That will do." You agreed, and he walked to his closet giving you one of his many solid shirts. "You don't have any casual underwear right? Just forgotten thongs?" You mocked his not-sleeping-alone habit. He grabbed one random shirt and threw it to you. "I'm afraid you don't wear these. They're not mum-friendly." He mocked you back after taking a couple of these out of the drawer showing them to you. Your ego was too high to play it innocent or uncomfortable. Besides, you've worn these at your early days when you and Roger used to date. He's seen you on these multiple times, what a time. "Who said that? Give it to me." You raised your brow at him, taking the black thong and wearing it under the shirt. He was positively shocked at your confidence. "Οh God, I thought you don't wear these anymore." he gasped at the fact you wore that provocative fabric. He couldn't wait to take it off you. "It's a fact; I don't wear them. But now that I'm here I had to provoke you a little." You smiled, leaning closer to him. Your hand pressed the tense part of his jeans, pressing him to endure. It's not hard, though. "You like being teased?" You asked. He nodded with eyes completely closed. "Too pity, I have to see my girl downstairs." You removed your hand from his bulge and his eyes opened again. As you walked towards the door, he stopped you. "I owe you a wall fucking, a teasing orgasm and what else?" He pretended he was thinking but knew what he was about to say. You were looking at him waiting to hear the last one. "Ah yes, a good fuck. You know?" he winked coming closer to your ear. "On four." He whispered and that got you wet."You like it, don't you?" He teased. "I do. But later." You licked your lower lip and left the room. Roger behind, smiled at the sight of you walking, wearing only a thong and a large shirt. You had to be careful with your moves, so Laura could not see a thing. "Wait, I'll go first." He stopped you and gave you a soft butt spank. "I'll cut your hands, Rog!" You jested him but you gained nothing but a fast kiss at your lips. "Yeah, I love you too." He joked and walked downstairs. "Hey, Laura!" Roger searched for your daughter in the living room. "Laura?" He asked again, looking for her everywhere on the ground floor. "Roger, where is she?" You low-key panicked. "I - I don't know, I left her right here." He pointed at the couch, where her bag was. "Oh, hold on." he considered where Laura could be. "What?" You asked, trying to calm down. "Thank God, there she is." He let a huge breath out, after making sure she was at the garden, smelling the flowers Freddie showed her the previous day. "You better stay with her the next time I'm dressing up after a bath and not attempt to finger fuck me instead." You seemed relieved after seeing her playing in the garden. "Noted." He agreed with your statement and continued staring at your kid. "Laura, look who's here!" He yelled at trying to catch her attention and eventually, after seeing you two together smiling she ran towards your place to hug you. "Mummy!" She was so happy to see you, her enormous hug, made you lose balance as you stood at her height. "What's going on?" She asked surprised, looking both of you. "What do you mean?" You asked as you looked at her blue eyes. "Last night dad stayed with us, he got me to school, picked me up from there, now you're at his home... Are you back together?" She questioned, wishing you guys are truly back. You didn't know what to say, so you looked at Roger. He looked thoughtful, but he had to say something real quick. "We're in good terms now." He kissed her cheek, and his hand was gently placed at your back. "But you'll have to stay with me now for a little." He added and looked both you and Laura. "Wow dad, this is like a dream!" She hugged him and you could tell she was the happiest you've ever seen her after the divorce. "But my stuff? I have to get my other books too... They're at home." She explained. "I'll go later with your mum to get them. We'll take you to John and Veronica to play with their kids, what do you say?" He playfully asked her and she got super excited. "Yes please! I only see Laura at school. It's unfair. We used to see each other more often." She jumped around and you laughed. Laura shares the same name as John's only daughter. So many boys for siblings, she doesn't have a girl company. "Nice then, I'll call John." He smiled and you all walked inside. "Laura, have you eaten?" You asked as you walked with her in the kitchen meanwhile Roger stayed in the living room to call his friend. "Hey, John." Roger said the second John picked up. "Hey Rog, what's up?" He said from the other side. "Hey, there's a couple of days that Y/N and I are getting along." He started. "Oh, that's great Roger! I know how terrible it was. It's good that you're good now. So?" He asked waiting for Roger's request. "So um, she is at my place because she had some issues with the man she dated and I really need, you and Veronica to accommodate our little Laura for tonight. I'll make sure to bring her everything she needs." Roger made sure you were busy in the kitchen so you wouldn't hear a thing. "Say no more fam. I got you. Veronica will give our kids a ride at school." John immediately accepted.

"Thanks a lot, pal, next pack of cigarettes are on me." Roger joked and John laughed.

"Just don't forget tomorrow's recording. Freddie will kill you." John reminded.

"Ah, he'll understand." Roger giggled. "So I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Yeap, bye."

He hung up and walked to the kitchen, where Laura and you kept each other company. You were about to put the spaghetti into the pot with the boiled water. "So is he good-looking?" you asked Laura who was busy stirring the ingredients for the sauce.

"Mum, he's handsome!" She disclosed in a cute way, feeling proud of her for revealing her first crush to you.

"Who's handsome?" Roger raised his brow to Laura but she didn't seem to bother. "Me?" He joked and sat at the chair. "We have been knowing." He added and you burst out laughing. "What? Do you doubt my beauty?" He pretended to receive an insult in a humorous way.

"No, I doubt your narcissism. It just got out of hand." You laughed again.

"So? What's the big fuss about, young lady?" he turned to Laura who was laughing too.

"It's about my classmate, Dylan. I like him." She said to Roger about the boy she likes.

"I need to see Dylan if you want my approval." He acted like the protective dad he is.

"Ah, come on dad! I can handle it myself." She answered, showing to both Roger and you how responsible she is.

"That's my girl." He rewarded her with a kiss at her forehead. "Do you guys talk?" he asked.

"No, we just exchange looks." He moved your shoulders in disappointment.

"Don't worry baby, you can talk to him, this is how you make new friends. And boyfriends." You winked at the end of your sentence.

"Mum, how did you meet dad?" She asked waiting for your story.

"Does this have to do with Dylan?" You laughed.

"No, it has to do with you." She pointed at Roger and you.

Flashback

"For fuck's sake, I told you I'm not interested." You tried to refuse your roommate's suggestion of seeing the newly formed band Queen.

"Why? Come on! Brian's playing the guitar! I like this guy, oh, come on!"  your friend, Kath, begged you to come to the gig. At the time you were studying with her physics and it happens to listen to Queen for the first time ever. You've heard of them here and there but you weren't into their music.

"Fine, but you'll get me a beer." you finally accepted.

"Yeah, fine, let's go now! They're starting now!" She grabbed you by your arm, rushing to the big pub at the corner.

You walked through the crowd, cigarettes and smoke broke your nose. You hated that smell but you wanted to do your friend's favour. "Here, take my money and get yourself a beer, I'll be at the front of the stage." You lost her as she was trying to reach the stage. You were nervous, you were alone in the pub, knowing no one and definitely being out of your comfort zone. "Ah fuck, why did I agree on this." You murmured to yourself before asking the barman for a cold beer.

"First time here? I've never seen you here." A raspy voice next to you, made you tremble, afraid of any possible fuck-boy trying to flirt with you. You didn't like those boys. All about sex and cigarettes. You had to turn around and be kind.

"Yes, my friend waits for me." You didn't want to talk to him, he seemed like another fuck-boy of his generation. The bar-man was still busy fixing drinks for other students so you had to talk to the man next to you.

"Oh, who's she? I might have slept with her." He laughed at his own narcissistic joke. You looked at him, being super confident, blue eyes, blond hair, an angel. But there was a devil between his tight leather black jeans, trying to get in your pants.

"She doesn't sleep with people your kind." You turned your eyes at the man behind the counter who was available now to get your order. "A cold beer please." You ignored the man's blue eyes next to you, as hard as it seems. He was impressed by your attitude. Girls don't resist his flirty eyes and attitude. He had to try harder. At your attempt paying for your beer, the young man next to you stopped you.

"It's my treat." he gave the money while staring at you. "I'm Roger." He asked for a handshake as he introduced himself.

"Y/N." You accepted the handshake indifferently. "But you didn't have to pay for my beer. It was already a treat." You explained shrugging your shoulders.

"You have a boyfriend?" He asked completely interested, hoping you were single. And you were.

"What's it to you? You're not getting into my panties anyway." You felt uncomfortable with his question so you left, leaving him behind, trying to find your friend.

"Hey what took you so long?" Kath grabbed your hand, pulling you next to her. She was waiting for the band to appear.

"Ehm, nothing, just a lot of people were ordering." You excused yourself and sipped of your cold beverage. "Oh here are your money." You gave her a twenty back and looked at you surprised.

"Who paid for your drink?" She asked smiling widely.

"A guy was trying to flirt with me." You started.

"Which guy, show him to me." she was searching for the guy you were trying to target in the crowd but it was pointless. He wasn't in the crowd.

Queen was on stage now. "Fuck! Brian's on stage, oh God, he's so handsome!" She fangirled as he was wearing the guitar's neckband. "Hi Brian!" She loudly greeted him and the curly-haired man, greeted back. You had no idea what on the earth was going on, until the man you earlier met was the drummer of Queen.

"What the fuck, that's the man who paid for my beer." You said at Kath's ear and you could do nothing but gawk at him. He did felt someone was looking at him persistently so at that second he locked eyes with you. He smirked at you being shocked.

"Hello everyone, this is Queen, welcome to our small gig tonight, I'm Brian," the crowd greeted him politely. "This is Freddie we all know," Everyone lost it when he moved forward to present himself. What a fabulous persona, you thought. "This is our bassist, Deacon John," John shyly greeted the crowd and now it was "And this is Roger, you all know and like." Brian commented and laughed. People around you, especially women went nuts for him, they're acting so thirsty. Oh God, you thought. A confirmed fuck-boy.

"I can't believe you're Roger's next target!" Kath whispered at your ear, when all three looked at each other.

"Target? Excuse me?" You asked offended. "Do I look like I'm an easy lay?" You asked.

"Of course not, you're a virgin aren't you?" She joked, trying not to be heard to the others.

"Of course I am, but I'm not giving it to someone who would leave me the other day." You snapped. But deep inside you had to admit how gorgeous he was. You would give him a chance but you were scared he'd break your heart.

Flashback ended.

"So you met dad at university?" She asked confused, you obviously didn't reveal the things you and your friend said later but the summary of it.

"I was at the university, dad was playing with the band at the pub near the campus. He quitted dentistry to focus on music." You explained.

"We were newly formed back at the days." Roger added.

"Oh and how did you approach her?" She asked slightly confused. She was lost on your words when you were narrating.

"I paid for her beer but she was too picky. I wasn't her type." He laughed in awe while looking at you. "I thought it was a wasted flirt." he continued.

"Eventually it wasn't, we know each other for so many years, we got married, we have you now." You kissed her cheek. However, you avoided saying that Roger and you divorced.

[elfenbensord]

star crossed lovers

written: 26.1.20-8.2.20

word count: 6.5 k (ish)

note: wrote this for @writingsoftheloser’s 1.5 writing challenge! check her lovely blog out!

attention reader! your nickname is now puck, after one of the characters in shakespeare’s ‘a midsummer dream’. welcome to your new life, puck.

prompt: lavender - devotion, virtue

characters: adult!remus lupin x adult!reader

masterlist / blurb masterlist / requests n asks

---

1984

“What about this one?” Remus waved the fresh copy of Shakespeare’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ in front of his friend’s nose.

“Please, no. I can’t stand that one...”, her eyes rolled in a dramatic gesture.

“Really? Didn’t you do this one at drama school?”

“Exactly.” She slapped the book away, making a face. “Doing a show kind of ruins it for forever.”

Remus took the opportunity to raise an eyebrow, “How unfortunate for you. I, however, find it to be a charming play.”

“Sure. But I was a pretty good Puck.”

“You were marvelous.”

He was trying to stay focused on organizing the shelf in front of him, but his slightly over tired brain was much more interested in continuing her jests. She was sat on top of the counter, helping him very little. “Well, you wouldn’t know. Since you didn’t come to see me.”

“Well, then I’m sure you were marvelous.” A few more books stacked against each other, filling up the empty space of the soon-to-be book shop.

“Damn right I was.”

He sighed, finding his focus defeated by her. “I’m still waiting for the day when you’ll discover humility.”

Her sudden laugh filled the empty shelves, “You’ll have to still waiting.”

“It’s called ‘keep waiting’. Or ‘continue waiting’.”

“Maybe it is. Not my fault your language is malfunctioning.”

He sometimes forgot that she isn’t from here. She seems like such a natural part of his life, he could never imagine living without her snarky comments and home-made words.

“Wouldn’t be my fault either. Do I look Anglo-Saxon to you?”

“Dunno”, she prodded a finger into his chest, not entirely gently. “But you’re supposed to be a librarian.”

He moved her hand away, “Correction: I’m a bookkeeper now.”

She grabbed the nearest book out of one of the boxes on the soon-to-be counter, slapping him not-too-gently on the head with it.

“Careful!” his sudden protest took her by surprise, just in time for him to grab the copy from her hands. “That is a first edition of Jane Ëyre, it isn’t for slapping people in the head with!”

Her hands flew up in a defensive manner, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

Remus inspected the old copy of Jane Ëyre, anxious to find any scratch or dent in its textile bound cover.

“Stop making eyes with that dust. It makes you look, like, half a century older.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her comment. Setting down the book on top of one of the boxes, he said, “You think I’ll still look this good at 74?”

“Not some chance.” “Not a chance.”

“Gotcha!”

Another involuntary laugh on his behalf. “Come on, we need to empty these boxes by lunch time.”

“You have a schedule for everything, Lupin.”

“One of us needs to, Puck.”

She frowned at her old nickname, it only brought memories of long nights of studying lines  written far too many centuries ago and caffeine-overdoses. “... Now you’re just being rude.”

“How about ‘we complete each other’?”

“That’s quite an interesting take.”

“So I’m interesting now?”

Opening one of the boxes containing yet another batch of books in need of a good dusting, he could hear her mumbling, “You’re a pain, that’s what you are.”

“If you finish those books by one o’clock, we can visit that Indian place on the corner. My treat.”

Her eyes lit up, “Why didn’t you say so before?”

He could only smile.

---

“Good afternoon, and welcome to Lavender Books and Records!”

A familiar laugh reached his ears. “You can calm down with your fake charm, it’s only me.”

He pretended to be offended, “Who said my charm is fake? I reckon I’m quite charming on most days…”

“Yeah, it’s definitely fake.” She made sure to dramatically sigh and sit down on one of the book stacks by the counter.

“That’s not for sitting o-”, Remus tried to protest, but it was too late. He was rewarded only by a glare. In reply, he turned his charm up another 100 percent. “I hope your day was as lovely as you are?”

She picked up a book from one of the piles near her, pretending to be interested in its contents. “It was quite alright. But I’m very interested in what you think you’re getting with this sweet talk?”

“Dinner. It’s your turn to cook tonight.” He didn’t bother to look up at her, he already knew too well how she’d react. Lightly frowned eyebrows, slightly parted mouth, a playful look in her eyes. 

“And what makes you think that?”

He glanced at her, finding her reaction to be exactly what he’d guessed. Bingo.

“My carefully planned out dinner schedule does.”

“Oh, really.”

“Also, I’ve made dinner the last three days.”

She closed the book in her hands. “That’s a lie.”

“No, it isn’t”, he replied calmly, returning to the order of books in front of him.

“We went to the Italian restaurant two nights ago.”

“Which I paid for.”

“... Damn it, you’re right.”

The bell above the wooden door dinged loudly, announcing the introduction of a new customer.

Putting down her book, the renowned Puck looked up to smile at the fresh blood. “Good afternoon, and welcome to Lavender Books and Records!”

Remus could only smile at her antics, before looking up at the customer. “How may we help you?”

---

“You really should cook more often.” He couldn’t help but tease her.

The kitchen was still a mess, a small price to pay for over-cooked pasta with slightly burnt tomato sauce.

“Shut up.”

They found their way to their three-people sofa, like they always seemed to do once it got later. It was much too small for three, even two. They usually solved it by half-sitting, half-lying, arms and legs randomly strew across.

“I’m thinking about hiring someone.”

“For sexual favours? Darling, you only needed to ask.”

“Didn’t know you’re a legitimized stripper.”

“What do you think all that extra rehearsal time after school was for?”

Her comment earned a loud sigh from Remus, before he moved on to what he actually had set out to say. “I meant someone to help around the shop.”

“Then why’re you asking me about it?”

“Dunno. You’re my best friend, I suppose I just wanted your opinion on the matter.”

“Hmm. I think you should hire someone really sexy, so you could extend your target age to a few years younger than 50.”

“Or perhaps a few years older? Depending on how blonde she is, of course.”

“... Or he.”

“Fair point.”

They could go on for forever. Bickering, embroidering each other’s jokes. It’d been like that for too long, they didn’t know what to do with themselves. Or what to do with each other. They fell asleep together that night, on the sofa for two.

---

The worn-out copy of Orwell’s ‘Animal Farm’ witnessed about the many nights Remus had sacrificed for Mr. Orwell’s well-known fable. Several parts of the text were underlined, commented on, or simply washed out by the emotions he’d experience the first, second, and tenth time he’d read the book.

“I’m all done, you ready to go?” The voice of his friend made him reluctantly put down the paperback.

“Just a few more pages? I’m almost done with the chapte-”

“What’s with you and that damn book?”

He didn’t want to respond, finding her voice too harsh.

Her eyes were frowned, lost of their usual spark. “I tried to read it once, and it’s all just talking pigs and horses and “all animals are equal”... “, she stuttered for a while, falling in and out of her own language. In loss of what to say, she burst out: “How it can mean anything else than just animals fucking around?”

He knew her like this sometimes. After all these years, he knew her well. But he was rarely on the receiving end of her frustration, her endless exhaustion. But he still felt he didn’t know her well enough to know what to do, or what she wanted him to say.

“How did it go?”, he stalked her her around the corner of the theatre, speeding up to keep up with her fast steps. “Your audition, how was it?”

Her eyes are not what they usually are. Shine slightly dulled, movements lazy and strained. 

“How was it?”

“Shut up.” A demand, a need, rather than a request. She doesn’t care for manners; she rarely ever did.

“... Are you alright?”

Breathed out through gritted teeth, “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Trying to grab her hand, he tried to slow her fast pace. “Hey, hey. What’s up?”

Her tears were audible through her strained voice. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me what’s happened!”

“... Can we just go home, please?”

He finally found into her eyes, and could easily read her mind. “You didn’t get the part, do you?”

Anger pushed her eyebrows downwards, tears forcing their way out. Her figure collapsed against the concrete wall of the building near the pavement, face crumpling into a caricature of her own particular beauty. Curses flew out of her mouth, melting into a shameful spot on the dirty concrete. Choppy, angry, breaths, mixed with sniffling and desperate noises. “I fucked up. Again.”

 Then she fell against him. Shocked by the added weight upon him, he struggled to keep himself upright. They stumbled against each other for a moment, both fighting not to fall, before they finally found each other in a tight embrace.

Remus found himself longing to make her pain cease. He wanted to turn back to that audition hall, find the people in charge and strangle them with his bare hands. Her arms tight around him made him realise he would gladly sacrifice every first edition he owned to see her happy again. Forget first editions - every book he owned. Burn them all, for a simple lift of the corners of her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Puck”, his hands desperate to dry her tears away. “I’m so sorry.”

Her hands found his, grasping them to have something to hold on to. Her curses were out, her body empty of anger for the moment. Their breathing was starting to sync into slow, almost forced, breaths. 

In, out. In out. 

He slowly brought her hands up to place a kiss on them. Something deep in his heart started to sprout slowly, dearly, readying for new life to begin.

“Thank you”, muffled by the fabric of his coat. She stayed in his arms longer, just to feel the weight of his care on her. To smell his kindness. She had always felt drawn to him, bound by loyalty which could never be denied him. Like a lover. Or a dog.

She pulled away from him to stand upright by herself. Once her breathing had evened out , she found the strength to ask, “Are you a dog person or a cat person?”

An easy laugh forced its way out of his mouth “What?”

“Cats or dogs?”

“Why do you need to know?”

The glimmer in her eyes was beginning to catch fire again. “Just answer me?”

He took a moment to think, so he could stay honest to her with his every word. After a minute or so, “Dogs. Definitely dogs.”

Her smile finally appeared, and the world could begin again.

---

The theatre called her back a week later. 

She got the part.

---

1980

“Hey, anyone in there?” were the first words she said to him. 

Remus almost fell off the small stool he used to restock the taller shelves of the Tempest Library. The stack of heavy scripts in his arms didn’t make balancing any easier, and he found himself looking like a fool for a second. She also thought he looked quite stupid, but wouldn’t only tell him so until a few hours later.

She reached out a hand to help him steady himself. And suddenly, the two had gone from strangers to quite unlikely acquaintances. He coughed once, twice. “Thank you.”

He’d never met someone so bold with introductions. No fumbling, no insecure glances. Sure eyes and a secure handshake, and suddenly they were friends. 

“Sorry, were you looking for something?”

She seemed to size him up, inspecting the dust from the archived books on his arms, trying to find out what she thought of him already. Remus’ face changed to a redder shade at the thought of his disheveled hair, and the too cheery “Hello! My name is…” sign pinned onto the front of his jumper. Seemingly unaware of his knowledge of what she was doing, she took her time to get a good look of him. It ended with a small nod of her head, and brilliant eyes meeting his. “Have you got anything by Shakespeare?”

Remus felt more comfortable stepping into the role of librarian - it felt safer than realizing that this meeting would change his life. “Of course, you’ll find the Bard in our drama section.”

“... And that is?

“In isle G.” He tried to smile, but she still didn’t seem content with his answer.

“Do I have to get it myself, or is it really true that you can just conjure it up with your librarian-granted magic?”

His laugh was unexpected, even to himself. “It isn’t true, I’m afraid. But I’ll gladly show you isle G.”

The walk there seemed longer than the 30 metres it actually was. “Was it any particular text you were looking for?”

She eagerly looked around the different isles containing shelves of books about most subject on each and every letter in the alphabet. “Wow”, her hand went to remove some bothering hairs from her eyes. “You really have a lot of books here.”

“Well, it is a library.”

“Whatever. D’you know have many there are in here?.”

“It’s over 2000, at least. And that’s excluding the archive.”

“How d’you know?”

“I’ve counted them. Or tried to.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. Several quick breaths, a few snorting sounds. That’s what her laugh sounded like in the beginning. At some point, after a few weeks or even months, it would become a sound to lift him up on hopeless days. 

They finally reached their destination: isle G, the drama section. S for Shakespeare. “What were you looking for?”

“... Something about summer and dreaming. I can’t remember what my professor said-”

She turned quiet once she saw the book in front of her. Remus held up ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream’, looking at her with expectant eyes. “Could this be it?”

“‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’... That does sound familiar.”

He was surprised that she had nothing more to say. Though he’d only been aware of her existence for no more than what could be five minutes, he found himself thinking he’d known her much longer.

“What kind of title is that, though?”

He had to stop himself from smiling. There it was. Bingo.

He cleared his throat, trying to get back to reality. “Is there any particular reason as to why you’re seeking this particular book?”

“I’m doing an audition, and my professor said I need a bit of background info first.”

“Cool. Who’re you gonna play?”

“Dunno. Haven’t read it yet, have I?” 

He noticed how she moved. A curious thing, perhaps, for a newly-found friend to notice. But it was hard not to notice. She almost moved like a cartoon character. Moving her body around in an exaggerated manner, like she was being observed by a larger audience. Like she was performing her own life to a crowd. And it became obvious that the spotlight belonged to her, and only her.

He cleared his throat again, “So I’m guessing you’re here to borrow it?”

“Well, it’d be a bit hard to do my homework otherwise.”

“You’ll need a library card to do that, but I’m happy to help you apply for one.”

“How can you know that I don’t already have one?

Because it seems like you’ve never set your foot in a library before.

“I just… I listened to what you said, and… Sorry, do you have a library card?”

“No, I don’t. Could you help me get one?”

Remus was relieved to find the conversation somewhere familiar once again. “Of course, I’ll just need your name and your phone number.”

“This sounds a lot like something a stalker would say, but I’ll take the risk since I really want to get a good role.”

He didn’t know whether or not he was in a position to laugh at what she’d just said. Was it a joke on him? A joke on her? A joke to herself only?

“Please laugh”, that hint of joy in her eyes again, “otherwise I’ll just feel stupid.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen.”

“No one’s ever died from a little stupid.”

“I believe it’s called ‘stupidity’.”

“I believe I just proved my own point.”

“Well, to be fair, lots of people have died from their own stupidity on lots of occasions.”

A broad arm gesture, “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point then?”

“Do you still want my phone number?”

“Well, I’ll need it for the library card.”

“Okay. D’you have a pen and some paper, or will I have to use the book?”

He handed her a pencil and a piece of paper from his back pocket, happy to finally get some use of them. “Please don’t use the book. I think people here have been fired for less than scribbling.”

After a quick signature in barely readable hand-writing, he handed her two notes.

“This one”, she gave him the first note, “is for the damn library card.”

“And this one’s”, she gave him the second note, “is for you.” 

She grabbed the book and placed it in her backpack, getting ready to head of to her next adventure. Before she left him, “You can call me about Shakespeare or something tonight.”

---

The connection sparked, “Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t think you’d call.” It almost sounded like an accusation, coming from her in a slightly harsh tone. It was hard to tell when her face wasn’t available.

“How come?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you think I’d call.”

“Didn’t seem like the type.”

“The type to call?”

“The type to do anything exciting.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

“Sorry if I’m a bit rude right now”, she shuffled the phone from one ear to the other. “It’s the way I am.”

“Well, that sounds…”

“Alarming?”

“Honest.”

“Wow.”

“Did I manage to surprise you again?”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

Their breathing almost synced, before she said, “You’re pretty cool.”

And he felt she really meant it. He’d soon come to realize she meant everything she said. Most times, at least. And he’d come to love it.

“So are you.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

The connection ended. Remus sat still for a moment, not really knowing what he thought. Had he been expecting something else? And then her words came back to his mind, “See you tomorrow.”

There would be a tomorrow including her. And perhaps a day after that. And perhaps even the days after that. And slowly, he started to see how his life could change. And he thought it was pretty cool.

---

He waited for her the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And soon he had to send her a late notice for the book she’d unofficially borrowed.

---

The light outside the library became dull, heading towards complete darkness. Remus looked longingly towards the tall windows, wishing he could be on his way home. He had a few chapters left of ‘The Great Gatsby’, and he could barely wait until he could finish it later that evening. 

A not too familiar voice cut through the thick silence: “If we shadows have offended, think but this, and all is mended, that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck… ”

She could not continue after that. He restrained himself from a loud sigh, finding it impolite to do so. He then wondered if she’d find it impolite, or if she really cared about politeness at all.

“Good evening, honest Puck.” He looked up from the book report on the library counter before him. 

Her eyes betrayed her wish to stay cold and collected, “I’m sorry.”

The book was in her hands, along with a piece of paper. She looked at him with hopeful eyes as she handed him the script back.

He handled the book, searching to find any new imperfections. His eyes met hers. “This is a week late.”

“... I’m sorry about that too.”

“I should charge you for that. It’s my job, after all.”

“I don’t think you will.”

He hated how she knew him already. “No. I won’t.”

In a desperate attempt to continue the conversation in some other direction, “I take it you got the part as Puck?”

“Understudy.”

“Does this mean I’ll have to murder someone?”

She laughed, “Thanks, but I like to kill my own enemies.”

“Perhaps a minor accident? Nothing too serious, just serious enough…”

She laughed again. “I hope you’ll come see it, even if I’m not in it. I can get you tickets if you’d like.”

Her offer wasn’t very tempting to him. “Sure.”

She gently rolled on the balls of her feet, not able to keep still for more than a second. “When d’you get off tonight?”

This offer was more to his liking. “Late.”

“I’ll call you.”

“Will you?”

“I will.”

“I don’t believe you”, he started looking at the report again, hoping he looked cold and collected. She thought he did. “But I’m eager to have you surprise me.”

She wrinkled her nose, finding his sentence too perplexing to care. “I’ll call you.”

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m occupied elsewhere.”

“And where might that be?”

“In the works of F. Scotts Fitzgerald.”

“Who’s that? Your uncle?”

“No”, he was confused by her confusion. “He’s an author.”

“Well I haven’t heard of him.”

“It seems like you haven’t heard of a lot of things.”

It was meant as a thought, but it slipped out of his mouth before he could restrain himself. Her reaction to the insult-like statement was even curiouser. 

Laughter. It lit up the dim room, and made the sun want to crawl back onto the sky. “Good talking to you, Remus. I’ll call you.”

---

A few beeps before connection. 

“Hello.”

“I’m surprised.”

“Gotcha. Now you’re never ever getting rid of me.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

‘The Great Gatsby’ was put aside for the rest of the night, and he was forced to reschedule his entire life for her phone calls to fit.

It doesn’t sound so bad at all…

---

1984

“D’you wanna go to this weird art exhibition?” She leaned over his reading, stealing away the light from the kitchen table. This was the tenth time he tried to finish ‘The Great Gatsby’ with no apparent success. 

He was forced to meet her eyes, “Come again?” 

“Not right now, I’m still a bit sore.” She was laughing halfway through her own joke. 

It earned her an eye roll from him. “You know what I meant. And you should also know that your mind disgusts me.”

“Thank you. Wanna go now?”

“I’m sorry, but my evening is unfortunately occupied elsewhere.”

Another sentence she didn’t care for, “... Meaning?”

He returned to his book, wanting to seem suave or something like it. “I’ve got a date.”

“Like a… ”, she needed a few moments to comprehend, her arms and eyebrows everywhere, “a real date? A human date?”

“... I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t know that rat-haired librarians were in such demand.” 

He looked up to see her smile. “Actually, you’d be surprised.”

“What? Are you saying that you’ve turned down dates?”

A nod of his head, he could feel his confidence growing. “A few.”

She moved closer to him, “What’re you hiding, Lupin?”

He laughed, “Nothing, Puck.”

Crossing her arms, “Where are all these girlfriends then? Or boyfriends?”

“I just-”, he found himself in search of the words he wanted to say, something which rarely occurred to him. “I just didn’t feel like it.”

“Didn’t feel like it? That’s sounds like absolute bullsh-”

His hand quickly reached to cover her mouth, “Mind your words, please.”

She hit his hand away, revealing a smile. “Sure, Mr. Anglo-Saxon.”

“Hmm. I do love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Hmm. I really wonder what your date will think of that.” 

After a moment, her curiosity won. Bright, curious eyes,“Who is it?”

“You don’t know her-”, he tried again to seem collected. He’d never really mastered the effect, even with all the practice he put it.

“Maybe I do. You don’t know about all my social circles.”

He had to smile, “Dear, we make out the majority of each other’s social circles.”

“Fair point. But who is she?”

“If you must know… Her name is Alice.”

She was practically hanging off of him now, “And how did you meet?”

His cheeks flushed at her closeness. It wasn’t anything new, she’d been too close and too fast from the very beginning. But it never failed to make him change shade to a much redder one. “She’s been helping around the shop for a while now.”

“... I didn’t think you were that desperate.” She slid away from him. 

He already missed her arms around him. “Now you’re really being rude.”

“Hmm.” She didn’t regret it. Something about the fact that her best friend would spend an evening without her bothered her. It made her words harsh and unguarded, which she almost always regretted afterwards. Especially if it was Remus. Which is was in this case, and many other. 

“Guess I’ll go to the exhibition alone, then.”

He found the clock on the wall, realising how late the hour was. As he stood up and moved to reach for his winter coat, he suddenly found himself afraid of looking too nonchalant. “You do that. Tell me how it was once I get back tonight.”

“Not planning to spend the night with Heather? Or how about the rest of your life... ”

“Hannah. Her name is Hannah.” He closed the last buttons, then wrapped a scarf around his freckled neck. “And I might consider it, seeing as your acting is nothing more than unpleasant.”

“Fine. You do that. Not like I care.”

Please, stay here with me instead.

“It seems like you do.”

“I don’t.”

I already miss you.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

She didn’t say goodnight back. 

Remus stayed the night with Hannah, discussing ‘The Great Gatsby’. Hannah never realised he hadn’t finished the book. He almost wished she did. Wished she’d called him out on it, so he could answer with a clever comeback.

He wished he’d stayed at home.

---

She was eating breakfast when he tried to open the door as quietly as possible. “You’re up already? Isn’t this your day off”, he tried to act normal, but he couldn’t remember how. Chugging off his coat, he asked, “How was the art show?”

She tried to find some way of conveying how sorry she was. Sorry for the bitter words, sorry for her uncaring way of the night before. No words fit the purpose, and she found herself staring at her friend instead.

“Are you quite alright?”

Somewhere within, she felt a twinge of something. Like a small thorn, pricking away at her insides. Putting down her bowl of cereal, she eliminated the few metres between them. His cheeks were still rosy from the cold outside, and she noticed how his eyes were just a little bit clearer. 

She didn’t shy away from his glance as she said it, “I’m sorry.”

Remus could never stay mad at her for longer than ten minutes. If she’d been particularly impossible, that time could stretch into twenty. He’d realized this far too early in their time of knowing each other. 

“I know.”

Her arms slid around him, and she was relieved to find him open for her. “I’m sorry. But I probably meant it.”

His limbs turned soft, his shoulders relaxing. He hadn’t realized he was so tense without her. “I know.”

“How was your date?”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“How was the art show?”

“I didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Things aren’t as fun without you.”

He found his comebacks to fit right into her sentences. “Good for me.”

“Good for you.”

They were content to hold each other in silence for a few seconds.

“Wanna eat breakfast together out?” she suggested. 

His eyebrows drew closer together, a smile already appearing on his face. “You just had breakfast. And I had breakfast at Hannah’s.”

“Yeah. But we haven’t had breakfast together yet.”

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

Their lives - and their life - was quickly mended again over blueberry muffins and tea.

---

Another evening, a few days later. Puck paced back and forth in the living room. Their living room. Thought moving too quickly in her head for her to understand any of them. Her shoulders relaxed, pace slowed, as she heard keys jammed into the lock of the door. Remus entered, bright eyes and rosy cheeks. His arms were occupied by stack of books and a paper bag full of the night’s dinner.

“They didn’t have those muffins you asked for, but I think I managed to find something like it-”, he was mid conversation when he noticed her angry complexion, her worried pace. 

“What’s going on here?”

She started to walk faster again, words falling out of her mouth at a too fast speed. “So, I was talking to Lily-”

“Really? How’s James? And have they decided on a name for the baby yet?”

“Didn’t say. I think they’re going for something like Henry? I can’t remember… Where was I?” 

He moved inside the flat, putting the books and bags down on the kitchen table. “... You were talking to Lily?”

“Right! But what she said was that she could never see us two dating…”

He looked up, confused and worried by her. “Sorry, I’m not really following. What did she say?”

“She said we could never date.” It fired out of her, an explosion of syllables.

“And why is that so bad?”

Her face fell into sadness. It was one of the few times he’d seen her genuinely sad, and he found it hurt his heart. He moved towards her, wondering if a hug would be the right thing to do. She stopped to look at him, before she continued, “... Doesn’t matter. But isn’t that a weird thing to say? I mean, we get along fine!”

He chickened out of a hug, and settled for gentle touching her arm instead, moving them both to sit down on the sofa in the living room. “We get along marvelously, darling. You’re my absolute best friend.”

Her face was already lighting up, thoughts settling once again. What was she ever worried about? “And you’re my best friend in the whole wide world.”

The smirk on his face implied a lot of things. 

She took one look at him, restoring back to herself again. “Get that stupid smile off your stupid face.” Closing her eyes, she let a smile consume her own face again. “Or else I’ll have to give you a black eye, or something.”

Threats never worked on him, she was well aware of that. His head fell onto her shoulder. “You seem very upset about this. Any particular reason as to why?”

She quickly turned explosive again. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date tonight?”

“... No?”

“Hmm. So Miss Perfect decided to spare you this night?”

He moved away from her, standing up and crossing the room to find the open kitchen. Their open kitchen. “You know, sometimes you’re not very nice at all.”

“And?”

“Exactly.”

He couldn’t bare her taking more of his energy. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

“Would you like company?”

“No. I’d rather be alone.”

Ouch.

“There’s food in the bag.”

“Okay.”

She shouted a half-hearted “Bye” as she saw him go, missing him already. The mix of feelings inside of her made her forehead wrinkle and her eyebrows stoop down.

He never did things on whims, but the feelings which resided in him overwhelmed him. They did that when she was around. “I’m thinking about moving out.”

If he’d seen her eyes, he would’ve seen the deepest of fears. 

Her hair covered her eyes. “What?”

“Yeah. See you.”

We get along just fine.

---

REMUS

Remus stared at the ceiling above him. Her words seemed to get to him tonight more than he thought they would. He was often confused by her. But this time felt different. This time, he wished he’d understood her. What had she been talking about? Lily and them not being a good couple? And why had she been so upset by it?

Perhaps… 

A thought, an old hope, was lit up once again. Old dreams of holding hands, sharing food, sharing life, started to replay in his head. Parallel in his mind, was what he deemed reality. The times when she wouldn’t listen, when her sharp words hurt. Her selfishness. 

We get along just fine.

He wondered, was it really true? Or was it something he’d tried to convince himself of these past years?

A thought passed his mind. A thought he often found himself playing with. Why not just leave?

Leave her and her sharp tongue. Her childish ways. Her selfish priorities. Leave her and her honesty. Her lovely laugh. Her whimsical world.

He could never leave her.

The old flame inside his chest was lit again, and it became harder to put out, to bury, after each time. The glow shuddered, only to burn even brighter. Would she come running after him? He wasn’t sure. He could only hope. He’d read too many novels in his life to know what was truly realistic. To know what life is really like. He wondered, did he want to know? All he wanted, all he knew, was her. 

Leave her?

He woke up - he could never do that. He wouldn’t know where to start. Sure, she was infuriating at best. But wasn’t he as well? Weren’t they a match like the ones in Shakespeare’s plays? Spare the deaths and woes, he only wanted her company. So they could have their happy ending. Happily ever after. Or for a short time, at least. Until one of them pissed the other off. And then they’d apologise, and the cycle would repeat. They’d live like hell, and love even more. It would be wonderful. They wouldn’t always get along, but it wouldn’t matter. 

A pair of star-cross'd lovers can begin their life. 

---

PUCK

She’d felt the need to breath. The air inside the flat didn’t seem like enough. The air outside, in the small park around the corner, wasn’t enough either.

We get along just fine.

He was the best person she’d ever met. He was kind. And smart. He was good-hearted and honest and so all things wonderful. And whenever she saw him, all she felt about him became so much, and she didn’t know where to go. So she’d explode every now and then. She’d thought he could stand it. Sometimes, she even thought he liked it. But it seemed it wasn’t so. Perhaps it never was.

Perhaps...

---

They found each other a few hours later.

She’d never seen him so sure. He was having tea, reading something by Shakespeare, at the kitchen table.

“Hi.”

Was he always this good-looking?

“Greetings to thee.” He just wanted to smile at her. But he didn’t find it the right time. 

Surely, it must be a trick of the light, she thought. Or just her tired eyes seeing something else. Light brown hair, slightly ruffled in the way only he could do it. The most perfect face shape - and Godrick, that jawline. Long, freckled nose. Eyes she wished only she knew. Was this really her friend? Or had someone taken her dear Remus’ place when she was sleeping?

She felt a sudden need to say something nice. Something friendly, like “I love you”.  Quick, “How… are you?”

“How am I?”

“Yes. How are you?”

“I’ve known you for… four years”, he looked up at her with his kind eyes, a smile finally taking form. “And I don’t think you’ve ever asked me that.”

She gave him a look.

“Well then. I’m quite anxious on this Saturday morning.”

“About?”

“Something very important.”

“Hmm. I hope it’ll turn out alright for you.”

“So do I.”

His eyes were so honest. It struck her like a spotlight. She loved the way he looked at her. He was all the audience she needed. 

“We should...”

Make out?

“...talk.”

Her eyes didn’t betray her mind for once, “Ok. You could… ”

Kiss you?

“... meet me after rehearsal?”

He masked his disappointment flawlessly. “Sure. When d’you get off?”

“At nine, hopefully.” She found her script and slid it into a backpack. She shrugged on her ragged jeans jacket, adding a scarf for warmth and comfort. The early spring outside wasn’t too kind to freezing souls.

“Fine. I’ll meet you then.”

“See you!”

---

ROMEO

She speaks:

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head

As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds

And sails upon the bosom of the air.

JULIET

O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet.

---

They met outside in the park outside the theatre.

She: “You know, I’m in love with you.”

He found no words. Of all the books he’d read, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He could, however, think of some things to do.

Take hold of her hand. Find her closer. Let their lips meet.

“I love you.”

“That’s right”, her face scrunched into a grimace, it seemed like she was trying to change her insides. “Damnit!”

He still couldn’t understand all of her. But he could try. He could ask.“What?”

Her arms flew out into a gesture, before she looked at him through frustrated eyes. “I promised myself I’d be nicer to you. Now that we’re in love an all.”

He had to smile at her. “Please don’t be.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

That earned him a kiss. And another. And another.

She let go of him, laughing, “Now I can really see what Lily meant with us not being an ideal couple…”

Their faces were close, they could hear each others quietest whispers. He sighed, “Hmm. Screw ideal.”

“How about we screw each other?”

He laughed, “I’m not entirely opposed to that idea.”

He finally felt he’d succeeded with suave. Cool and collected. At the same time, burning and all over the place.

She tugged at his hand, leaned in and whispered like she was telling a secret, “Wanna go eat at the Indian place?”

“Perhaps we could make a small stop first?”

“Where to?”

“I was thinking home.”

His eyes told her exactly what he meant. Her face turned rosy at his thoughts.

She leaned in, and he expected a sweet word, or something like it. Her nose almost touched his ear as she said, “Race you to it!”

She was already running at full speed when he straightened up.

“The loser has to pay for dinner!”

Their laughs echoed through the streets. And their life as star-cross'd lovers took its first breaths.

---

taglists

permanent: @rocking-like-a-ravenclaw / @kapolisradomthoughts / @siriusement / @electraheart-isdead / @classy-sith-lady / @hermione-who / @pompeiianbollocker / @theseuscmander

remus lupin: @writingwitchly / @serenefreakgeek / @spideyfan456 / @un-nouveau-soleil / @evyiione /  @reggieblck / @bookworm0123

[fanfiction4thesoul]

What I See Part 2

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: ~1.5

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re headed back home to London after a few years in America. You’ve got a new job at EMI, thanks to your best friend Freddie and you’re ready to start the next chapter of your life. But navigating life is far more interesting when you see far more than anyone else.

A/N: Oh my god guys. I did NOT mean for this part to take that long. Unfortunately I had a lot of things come up that needed taking care of and I’m still kind of in the middle of it. But I put aside a little time to finish this part, so I’m sorry if it seems a little rushed. Thank you again for your continued support as well as everyone that comments/likes/reblogs! I’ll try and get all my shit sorted so the next part won’t take too long.

Part 1

The ghost was a middle aged man, balding dirty blonde hair and a mean grimace on his face. He was shouting like his life depended on it making it nearly impossible to hear what Freddie was saying. You tried to keep your eyes off him to avoid seeming weird, but you could still see his wild gestures from the corner of your eye. The negative energy he was projecting into the room almost made you dizzy as it blasted you.

You missed the introductions but Freddie told you enough about everyone through stories that you could easily name each of them. Which meant that the ghost was yelling at Roger for whatever reason. Thankfully the ghost decided to take a break from his shouting to instead huff around in the corner. 

“Uh, it’s so nice to meet you all. Fred’s told me a lot about you” you said, trying to shake yourself into focus.

Brian smiled at you. “He hasn’t stopped raving about you either.”

“Oh yeah, mostly good things. Except for your fashion sense, though. We’ve heard multiple times how atrocious it is.” John chimed in.

“And now you can see I was right,” Fred gestured to you as if to prove his point. “I’ve spent years trying to get her to change, maybe you can do better than me, Rog.”

Roger eyed you up and shrugged his shoulders, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I really don’t know if I should be offended by that or not,” you said, hands on your hips.

“Take it whatever way you want, love. Just know that it’s only the clothes that need some help.” He smirked at you leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, yeah, great line. Trying to pick up your co-worker. Great angle Roger…” The ghost grumbled in the background. You pursed your lips. It seemed like he hadn’t noticed you staring at him while he was throwing his fit. This ghost was… volatile. In a way you hadn’t seen before. And the negativity that clung to him was something you never experienced and it made you uneasy. So maybe pretending you couldn’t see him would be better. At least for now.

“Roger, if you’re going to flirt with (Y/N) please do it where I can’t hear it.” Freddie huffed, setting the table with dinner.

“But I can flirt with her?” He raised his eyebrows, looking from you to Fred. Brian and John also stopped what they were doing to look over, waiting for Freddie’s answer. You just smirked and sauntered around the table to sit in the chair Roger was resting his arm on.

You gave Roger a wide smile, “I’ve already been warned you’re a shameless flirt. So it’s no skin off my bones if you want to spend your time complimenting me.”

There was a beat before Brian, John, and Freddie started laughing. “I think I’m going to have fun with you.” Roger said, shaking his head at you.

“That’s my (Y/N), darling. She’s the only one I know who can probably keep up with you.” Fred was still smiling as he sat down with the last of the food.

Dinner went off really well, better than you could have hoped. Even though Freddie told you so much about everyone, actually meeting them and talking to them were very different. You could see some of their quirks shining through. Each one of them was extremely intelligent in their own way. John was more inclined to listen to the conversation rather than actively participate. Brian was soft spoken and kind. He asked about your version of how you met Fred as well as your studies to be a sound tech.

Freddie and Roger dominated the conversation, going back and forth with stories and jabs at each other in a friendly way. Roger threw in as many flirty comments your way which earned groans from everyone at the table. You deflected with laughs and quips, though some of them definitely made your face heat up as they got more suggestive.

But all throughout dinner the ghost stuck around. He kept mumbling obscenities, critiquing whatever Roger said, normally after he threw in another line but at least he didn’t start shouting again. Your back was to him so you couldn’t see his face, but the snarky comments and negative energy rolling off him put you on edge.

When Roger got up to leave after dinner, giving you a wink as he passed, you watched as the ghost followed him up the stairs. It only confirmed that it was attached to him. 

The uncomfortable energy left as he disappeared taking the heavy, oppressive feeling with him and it felt like you could breathe normally again. Freddie gave you a look, but it was definitely more suggestive than imploring.

When Brian and John both bid you good night, you waited another moment, biting your lip. Freddie was the only confidant you ever had with your gift, but it was normally for silly things they did. You never met such a negative spirit before, at least not one that carried around that negativity like a blanket to drape over whatever room they were in. 

It made you nervous.

But just when you opened your mouth to tell Freddie, Paul walked into the room grabbing his attention. 

You sighed. Maybe tomorrow.

Just as you were about to slip out of the room, Freddie called to.

“Good night, darling! See you bright and early tomorrow morning!”

“‘Night Fred.” You smiled at him walking out into the cold night air. 

~O~

It turned out you couldn’t do much recording if there wasn’t actually anything to record. While the boys certainly had plenty of ideas, there wasn’t anything that they thought was ready to be put to tape. They were perfectionists and you could definitely see how you could go crazy on this farm with them. So for the past week you mostly sat behind the soundboard, playing with the sounds as the boys practiced whatever they wanted.

And even in the recording room, the ghost followed Roger and the negative emotion he brought was even stronger than it was on the first night. Despite the one sided shouting match that you walked into yesterday, the ghost remained stoically silent almost bottling his emotions up to make his energy that much more oppressive. 

Whenever Roger came close, it was like a douse of cold water falling over you making you tense up. You still met his flirty comments beat for beat, but you wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room.

At the end of each day, you quickly made an excuse to go to your house, avoiding additional invitations to dinner. 

“Please, (Y/N). We’ve barely seen you outside of work!” Freddie was whining at you just when you were saying goodbye.

Your eyes drifted behind him to where Roger was adjusting his drums, the ghost pacing along behind him. “I’m just not feeling it tonight Fred. Maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

Freddie looked around, spying who was behind him. “Is it Roger? Darling, did Roger do something? Say something? You know he means it in jest.”

“It’s not Roger, Fred. Trust me.” And it really wasn’t. You wanted to get to know him more, but that damn ghost just keeps getting in the way. When Roger was practicing in the other room, you could freely talk to Brian and John but as soon as Roger walked in and the ghost followed you suddenly felt stunted. Getting to know Roger was… a challenge.

“Then what is it?”

“I… m not sure.” You took another look at the ghost before turning for the door. 

You didn’t get very far before someone was calling your name.

“(Y/N)! Wait up!” It was Roger, hair flowing behind him as he came up beside you. “I… uh. The guys… they decided that we should take at least one day off during the week. And the, ah the town isn’t that far down the way. I’m not sure what there is to do there… but do you wanna go explore it?” He stuttered over his words a bit but he didn’t appear nervous.

Just as you were going to respond, the ghost came through the wall and sunk your mood. It was so infuriating. Every. Single. Time. And it was only if he was in the same room! You never, ever in your life wanted to get rid of a ghost before, but now you wished you could. 

“Wait,” you said, getting an idea. “Do they have a library?”

Roger furrowed his brow. “Uh, probably? Why?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll explore the town with you. Next week. If you let me borrow your van to go to the library this week.”

“Uhh…”

“I promise I won’t go exploring without you.” You gave him your best smile, swaying a little to emphasize your plea. 

“...yeah, sure. Okay-”

“Great! It’s a date!” You quickly jumped forward to give him a peck on the cheeks, pulling away with a wink. “Don’t daydream about me too much.”

You hurried away, hoping it seemed more playful rather than wanting to rush away from the spirit. You really hoped the town had a library. And had what you were looking for...

Part 3

~

Taglist: @jennyggggrrr @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @rogahs-drowse @butlegendsneverdie @leghy @the-moving-finger-writes @juliarvra