#he was already starting to doubt the choice before that and THAT is huge to me

[bbyboybucket]

What if season 2 episode 2 spoilers below

I can’t stop thinking about how intentionally paralleled Bucky and Peter were. I can’t stop thinking about how Peter said “it’s not me, he has a way of getting in my head.” I can’t stop thinking about Howard pointing out that they’re the same, that they both have been manipulated and deserve a chance because they’re good. I can’t stop thinking about Bucky’s anger and resentment towards that idea, the way he said “there is no me”, the way he almost didn’t believe it at all until he saw Hank hug Peter and he realized he wants that too. The way he realized that if the child who’s destroyed whole worlds has good in him and can still be redeemed and loved and GO HOME, so can he.

[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[weird-is-life]

rockstar!peter finding readers ig and following her or smth

Hiii, lovely🥰ty for this cute request, I'm sorry it took so long, sorry this is not very good lmao. Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Peter is a hopeless (and dramatic) romantic, swear words, fluff, (0.8k)

Peter doesn't even remember the last time he had a real, serious crush on somebody. Like rockstars probably shouldn't even have crushes like that. His band mates would joke that it's very unrockstar-like.

But.....

Peter is and always has been a hopeless romantic. Even before the band's fame had started to rise. So it's safe to say that Peter is down bad.

When you don't text him after one day and then two days and then three days, Peter goes insane.

He ends up thinking that you either read his letter and ignored it or that you threw the paper away. In his hopeful spirits, he chooses to believe in the latter option.

And that's how he somehow ends up scrolling through the endless hashtag of the concert. He hopes that you or at least one of your friends tagged a photo or a video or something so he can somehow text you.

After what feels like endless search Peter almost gives up. He searches all the possible hashtags of the event, and doesn't find anything.

He gets close to just throwing his phone across the room, and leaving it there when he finally finds you.

It's you. But the photo isn't under any hashtags. The venue where the concert was held reblogged your friends post, and that's how Peter found it.

It's a photo of you and your two friends smiling big in front of the main stage. You look as pretty as Peter remembers, but something else catches his attention.

You are wearing the shirt. His shirt! And somehow Peter's stomach does some things that he didn't even think were possible. Butterflies only get worse as he looks at the picture again.

To Peter's insane luck your friend did tag you in the photo, but..... You have a private profile.

"Shit," Peter groans loudly. He doubts you will accept his request if you have indeed ignored the paper.

He contemplates whether he should just move on or whether he should click the request button.

Peter doesn't get the choice to decide as he accidentally clicks on the request button with a part of his hand. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he quickly locks the phone, and throws it away from him.

"She's gonna block me," Peter murmurs to himself, and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Peter puts his face in his palms in despair, praying that the earth would just swallow him.

Peter doesn't know how long he stays in that position until a loud sound of a new notification bolts him upright.

He reaches for his phone with a slightly shaky hands. He manages to unlock his phone on like a fourth try after saying to himself, " fucking hell, Peter. Get it together."

The notification indeed came from you. You accepted his request along with a text.

The text says, "Did you give me a fake number?" You ask with an attached picture of the paper he gave you.

Peter's heart literally stops. He feels like such an idiot, like the biggest idiot that has ever walked this Earth actually.

No, he didn't give you a fake number. And no you didn't ignore his letter. And no you didn't throw the paper away.

Peter just doesn't seem to know his own phone number. Stupid stupid stupid. I guess, Peter in such a hurry to write that letter for you wrote one number from his phone number wrong.

Peter doesn't think he has ever written a text as quickly as he has now. He types an apology along with the correct phone number, and hopes you will forgive him and his poor memory.

He notices that you open his text, but you don't respond. He waits for your response for like 5 minutes (loosing his shit may I add), already thinking that you are gonna ghost him.

But of course, you aren't. You thought that Peter, a huge upcoming rockstar, gave you a fake number just to mess with you.

So when you finally tried sending him a message, and it didn't send through, you were gutted to say the least. You drank your silly little crush away with your two best friends and a bottle of wine.

Already thinking of how much a fool you've been for thinking that he'd actually give his number to you.

So to say the least you definitely didn't expect a follow request from him the morning after.

Still slightly hungover from the wine, you accept the request and send him the texts.

When he responds with an apology, and allegedly the right phone number you are a bit hesitant to message him again.

After thinking it through quickly, you message him," Is this really Peter this time?"

He responds almost immediately with a photo of him having a big smile on his face. More than beyond happy that you aren't ghosting him.

And safe to say that your friends are even more happy once they wake up and hear it. Celebratory wine being opened once again.

And so are you. You are very excited to get to know Peter. And for him to get to know you.

[moonstruckme]

Worried/gentle Pre relationship Sirius x reader who’s having a panic attack (his first time seeing her have one)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: panic attack

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is no amateur concert-goer. He knows how to hunt for the best tickets, how to smuggle in drinks, and how to get there early enough that he gets right up by the stage. Since it’s your first real concert (you argued that you’ve seen musicians play at restaurants and parks and the like, which Sirius informed you doesn’t count), he’s pulling out all the stops. 

“Alright, doll, we’ve got one bottle of water and one of vodka. Newbie’s choice.” 

“You can stop hammering in the newbie thing so hard, you know,” you say, reaching for the vodka. Your eyes flicker between the people starting to gather around you as they filter into the venue. “I don’t want to be ostracized by everyone here.” 

Sirius grins. “I’ll vouch for you, don’t worry.” 

You mirror his smile wryly, taking a covert swig from the bottle. “Won’t someone take this away from us?” 

“No,” he says, “right now everyone who works here is too focused on getting people inside, and soon it’ll be too packed to see us anyway.” 

You press your lips together as you nod, taking another hearty sip of the vodka. 

As if he hasn’t already been doing it all week, Sirius launches into a biography of the band you’re seeing. How they’d gotten started, when they’d been discovered, how he’d first discovered them (the true beginning of their fame, really), etc, etc. At first, you’re smiling and chiming in as he talks, but gradually he notices you becoming less responsive. You seem distracted. Must be the atmosphere, he reasons. There’s an exhilarating buzz going through the crowd, which Sirius is pleased to note comprises a rather impressive turnout for a band that’s just getting their start. With the colored lights the venue’s management turned on after everyone had been let inside, it’s difficult to make out distinct faces in the sea of bobbing heads. Sirius would hardly know it was you next to him if you hadn’t linked your arm through his the first time someone had cut between you two, as though worried he’d get swept away if you didn’t hold on tight. He hardly minds; if things were different between you, he doubts you’d ever be able to extricate his hand from your back pocket. 

“You with me, dollface?” he asks when you don’t seem to notice he’s asked you a question. He’d asked if you wanted to try to find an after-party, though he knows you well enough to suspect you’ll be ready to collapse into bed by the time the concert itself is finished. 

“Hm?” You look at him, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d asked him to put on you glinting as you blink. Your pupils look huge. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” 

Sirius starts to nod, but then someone behind you shoulders you accidentally and you jolt like you’ve been shot. 

He eyes you warily. “You sure? You look a bit warm.” 

It’s an understatement. Your features gleam with sweat under the colored lights. The crowd does make it a bit balmy inside, but your face is as flushed as if you’ve run a mile. 

“I’m okay,” you say, though you won’t look at him. You take a breath as if to steady yourself, untangling your arm from his to press a hand to your chest. 

Sirius touches your shoulder tentatively. It’s hot and slick under his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he says, panic creeping up his throat. This is all a bit too familiar. “Do you need some air?” 

You suck in a breath, the action sounding more effortful than it should. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you pant. “Yeah, I think—yeah.” 

Sirius glances around, taking a millisecond to mourn your prime spot before plotting a course through the crowd. He makes you hold his hand as he shoulders his way through, keeping you close behind him. It’s frightening how he can hear the sound of your gasping breaths even over the eager ruckus of the crowd. 

He gets you through as quickly as he can, beelining for the exit. “You’re alright,” he tells you as you both break out into the crisp night air. It takes all the self-control he has to keep his own anxiety from his voice, but he does his best to sound gentle and calm. “We’re going to find you a place to sit down.” 

He guides you over to the side of the building, mostly out of sight of traffic going in and out the doors, and sits you down on some grass. You fold your knees into your chest instantly, the position obviously familiar, and press your forehead to your knees. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sirius murmurs, crouching beside you and rubbing your back. Smooth, slow passes up and down your spine. “I’m not going to leave you. Just breathe, doll.” 

You seem like you’re really trying, forcing slow if stilted breaths through your mouth. He gathers the hair off your nape, using a ponytail from his wrist to tie it loosely over your head. The cool air seems to be helping somewhat. Your ears and neck are less flushed, but you’re still shaking something terrible. He redoubles his efforts on your back, pushing his palm into your spine in a way he hopes is soothing. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasp into the space between your knees and your abdomen. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, please,” Sirius begs you. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?” 

You shake your head. 

“Anything I can do?” 

You blow out a breath. Shaky, but more substantial than the rest. “Can I have the water?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Sirius’ own hands tremble slightly as he untwists the cap, passing it to you. You bring your head up to drink it, taking brief, measured sips. Your makeup is all smeared underneath your eyes. 

“Thank you,” you manage once you’re done. Sirius gets the impression you mean for more than the water. 

“Don’t mention it.” He takes the bottle from you, hand resuming its path on your spine. You tuck your head back into your legs. “Take your time, love, we’re not in any rush.” 

Slowly, over the course of the next few minutes, your breathing evens out. Some of the tension leaves your body, your posture slumped and miserable as goosebumps appear along your arms. Sirius drapes his jacket over you, continuing to rub your back through the thick material. 

Finally, you lift your head. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is tight, a tear slipping down your face. Sirius’ heart revolts, batting against his ribs like a frantic bird in a cage. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice as scoots closer to your side. He brushes the wetness away with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetness.” 

“No, I know crowds do this to me, and I didn’t even warn you, I just—” Your face scrunches, as if you’re endeavoring to keep some great pain at bay. “I wanted to do this for you.” 

Suddenly he’s the one with no air. Guilt chokes him, hot and thick in his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything for me, dollface. I mean, I appreciate it,” he gives you one of his best smiles, rewarded when your eyes crinkle slightly in response, “but I never want you to put yourself through anything like this for me. I’m happy when you’re happy, understand?” 

You nod, eyebrows stitched together remorsefully. Sirius wants to kiss between them, then all up and down your face until not a hint of melancholy remains, but in lieu of that he tucks a piece of hair that had escaped his earlier capture behind your ear, thumbing affectionately at your cheek. 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say meekly. 

“That’s okay,” he promises you. “My brother Reggie used to get panic attacks too, when he was younger. I have a bit of practice with them.” 

Sirius doesn’t think it matters how much practice he gets; he’ll always be shit at comforting people, but at least he knows enough to guess what you’ll need now. 

You look at him interestedly. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says. “Are you tired? We can go back to my place and watch a film. Or if you just want to go to bed I can take you home.” 

“Your place is good,” you say, letting him take your hand to help you up. Your legs wobble a bit underneath you, and Sirius wraps a hand around your waist, holding you to his side as you start back towards the sidewalk. 

“This okay?” he asks, watching you carefully. 

“Yeah,” you say softly. Your hand worms underneath his arm, sliding around his back in turn. “Yeah, this is good.”

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 1)

In which y/n's taking way too many units, and Harry's the graduate assistant for her Literature class.

+++

 It’s a gloomy autumn day, the sun nowhere to be found, the sky cloudy and gray. Y/n stands in front of Dr. Richmond’s door, nervously pulling back her hair and righting the state of her sweater.

The wind outside was not forgiving today, blowing harsh and cold and whipping her hair all over like she was caught in the middle of a god damn tornado. She tucks any stray pieces behind her ears and pats her wind-stung cheeks – oh gosh, she probably looks a mess.

She should’ve worn something more professional, she thinks to herself as she tugs her skirt down. Maybe trousers and a blazer– or at least a pair of jeans. Not this stupid little black skirt that keeps riding up, halfway hidden underneath her cream-colored knitted sweater. It keeps riding up, no matter how firmly she keeps tugging it down, and she’s got a horrible inkling that she might’ve accidentally flashed her bum at the workers in the street while she was walking to campus today. 

She looks down at her shoes, a pair of black mary janes, paired with some lacy white socks to decorate her ankles. They looked super cute when she put them on this morning – but now she’s worried that she looks like a kindergartener. Is she too old to be wearing frilly socks? They’re just so darn cute… but she doubts the sixty-something year old professor that’s on the other side of the door would think the same thing. 

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. She lifts her hand up to the door, and nervously brings her knuckles down to knock. 

It took all of her confidence to come to Dr. Richmond’s office today. She’s not a huge fan of talking to professors outside of class – drafting emails to them literally sends her into a spiral of stress, and she always feels like she’s gonna shit her pants when she goes to office hours– but she has no choice but to come and directly talk to Dr. Richmond today. She’d sent him two emails already (both of them had taken her over two hours to send because she actually despises writing emails and is always nervous that she’s gonna make a typo, or call the professor the wrong name, or accidentally attach her sex tape ((even though she doesn’t have a sex tape?)), but he hadn’t responded to either of those emails and she needs a response from him ASAP.

The door opens before her knuckles even make contact with wood, a short stout man walking out of the office with his briefcase in hand. He’s balding, with only a thin circle of gray hair lining the back perimeter of his head, and a pair of classes sit on his large, oily nose. Y/n stumbles, her eyes widening as she embarrassingly lowers her knuckles from the door and takes a startled step backwards. 

“Oh– um, Dr. Richmond?” she stammers nervously, her voice at a much higher pitch than usual. She’d love to stick a pore strip on his nose and unclog all those blackheads.

“That’s me,” he grumbles, sighing heavily, not even looking at her. He’s the head of the English Language and Literature department, a busy man surely. Students probably pester him every hour of every day. Still, she wishes that maybe she could’ve gotten a more… enthusiastic response from him. 

“Hi, sir,” she says, swallowing thickly. “I-I was having some issues with enrolling in your English 270 lecture and– um,” she’s starting to lose confidence as Dr. Richmond blatantly ignores her, rummaging through his briefcase for his keys. “I was… wondering if you had a second to, um, discuss it?” Her voice quietly fades towards the end, not sure if Dr. Richmond was even listening at that point– as he’d taken out his phone and started replying to a text while she had still been talking. 

He takes a solid five seconds to type out and send his text before responding to y/n. “Take it up with Harry,” he mumbles, still not looking at her. “M’done for the day.”

“Harry?” she repeats, her voice confused and eyebrows pinching together. But Dr. Richmond’s already walking away from her, halfway down the hall. “Oh,” she mumbles to herself sadly, lips pouting. All that, for nothing. He literally just walked away from her. 

She sighs heavily, ready to turn on her heel and walk back to her apartment from this failed mission – but then a voice sounds from inside the office. "In here!" it calls out.

She peaks her head inside timidly. 

Behind the desk sits a boy, with chocolate brown curls swirled atop his head. “Hello,” he hums, putting the essay he’d been reading down on the desk and looking at her with all his attention. There’s a soft smile on his pretty pink lips, twisted to the side with a dimple poking at his cheek. His eyes are green and glimmer kindly, framed by a pair of dark tortoise shell glasses.  “How can I help you?”

This man is much more attractive than grumpy old (and oily) Dr. Richmond. 

Y/n struggles to find her voice. “Are you… um, are you Harry?” Her eyes flicker all over this attractive young man’s face, trying to figure out if this is a hallucination or if a boy that pretty actually exists in real life. 

“Indeed I am,” he chirps, his chair squeaking as he leans forward. She briefly remembers seeing the name “Harry E. Styles” listed as the graduate teaching assistant, underneath Dr. Richmond’s name on the course website, and is finally connecting the dots. He’s dressed in a white button up, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms and an anchor on his wrist. His fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, and she finds her eyes drawn to the glittery rings decorating them. Her mind goes blank. 

It’s clear that he’s a few years older than herself – but not in a bad way. He just looks taller and broader and… smarter than most of the boys her own age. He has just the slightest bit of stubble on his upper lip, and his eyes just shine with wisdom and intellect.

“Did you have a question?” he asks, voice a little teasing as he jolts her out of her little trance. She tucks her hair behind her ear, embarrassed, and quickly averts her eyes from his hands.

“Yeah, um– Dr. Richmond said you’d be able to help me with my enrollment issues?” 

“Sure,” he crosses one leg over the other (y/n definitely notices the way his meaty thighs bulge) and leans back in his seat, hands folded neatly on his knee, “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to enroll in English 270, the Romantic Literature and Society lecture–” Harry nods attentively, “ –but the class is restricted to students in the Department of English Literature… which I’m not.” His eyebrows furrow hesitatingly, and she’s quick to defend herself. “I’ve taken all the prerequisites, though! I did well in all of them, and I emailed the department coordinator and they said that it’s fine for me to enroll in this class. It would just be a manual enrollment instead of the standard enrollment but they’ve done it for me for all the other literature classes I’ve taken that were also major restricted. All I need is a permission code and the professor's approval!” She pauses, taking a breath after her big ramble. “Or your approval, I suppose,” she adds as an afterthought. 

He’s silent for a bit, sitting there with furrowed brows and pursed lips, just staring at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, squirming under his intense gaze.

Finally he asks, “What do you study then? If not literature?”

“Um– I’m a psych major.”

“And… why would a psychology major need to take an upper division literature class?” he presses. Not trying to be rude, but just to understand. 

“Oh. I just… really enjoy books,” she says shyly. “It’s not for any credit toward my major. But I promise that I’ll stay on top of the work and participate and all that!”

He leans his forearms on the desk. His eyes are thoughtful, and he takes his time before speaking. “Your name was…?” he trails off.

“Y/n,” she fills in quickly. He nods.

“Miss y/n,” he sits up straighter, and looks her in the eye, “How many other units are you taking this semester?”

“Um…” she counts them off in her head.  “16?”

“So with this class you’d be at 20?” he confirms. 

She nods, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek. That is a lot of units. The last time she took 20 units she had a mental breakdown so intense that she spent an entire night just crying to her roommate (Iris), incapable of doing any work or studying because she was just so stressed out and overwhelmed. She had to skip classes just to catch up on the work that she’d fallen behind on for her other classes, and found her weekends swamped with essays and studying and missed assignments. She only just barely survived, and as soon as finals week was over, she literally collapsed with exhaustion, her body and brain so burnt out that she was sick for weeks. She’d promised herself that she’d never do it again… and yet here she is not even two semesters later.

She can already imagine how stressful this semester is going to be. 

“You understand, miss y/n, that this is not an easy class?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and somehow it’s attractive. “We have weekly readings and essays and discussions, and the final paper is not a matter to be taken lightly. You truly believe you can manage that on top of all your other classes?” 

She gulps nervously, but timidly nods. He can tell that he’s laid it all on a bit harshly. 

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he says softly. “I’m just trying to be… realistic. You seem to be a highly motivated student – and I admire that you’re pursuing topics that truly interest you – but I’d hate to see you burn yourself out.” 

“I think I can handle it,” she says, quiet but confident. “It’s something I enjoy so it’s more like a hobby than a class. And I think it’ll be fun? I saw on the syllabus that we’d be analyzing Frankenstein, which is one of my favorites…” 

His lips twist in a soft, endeared smile. He also loves Frankenstein. 

“Very well then,” he murmurs, his eyes glimmering thoughtfully. “What was it you needed to get enrolled? A permission code? I think if you just give me your student ID number I can get that sorted out…”

+++

The weather today is better. 

It’s still cloudy and gray outside, but the wind is much more forgiving, just a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Orange and red leaves fall to the ground, crunching underneath y/n’s feet as she walks to class. They match the red sweater that she’s wearing today, soft and knitted with hidden tones of orange and brown woven between the threads. The colors of autumn, her favorite season. 

A pair of wired headphones trail from her back pocket to her ears. She’s listening to her fall playlist, Lana Del Rey’s Season of the Witch setting the tempo of her walk to campus. In one hand she carries her book – The Secret History by Donna Tart – and in the other she carries her iced chai latte. Her fingers are freezing as she holds her iced drink, and a shiver crawls down her spine every time she takes a sip – but she doesn’t regret her drink order at all. She’ll have an iced chai in her hand no matter the weather. 

Wanting to make a good impression on the first day of classes, she got up extra early today to get a head start. She washed her face so that she’d look extra bright and awake, ate a proper breakfast at her dining table instead of her usual banana-on-the-walk-to-class, and put on an outfit that she thought gave… studious. Her autumn sweater, dark blue denim jeans, and white sneakers. She even chose her book to match the academic vibe she was going for today (she was between The Secret History and Happy Place, and Happy Place just felt too summery for such a gloomy day… plus The Secret History has been on her TBR for way too long.).

She arrives at the lecture hall approximately… 20 minutes too early. But it was on purpose! She’s only taken a few classes in the literature building (most of her classes are in the social science buildings) and wanted to have enough time to find the room before class started. How horrible would it be for her to be late on the first day, when she’s desperate to make such a good impression on Harry? And Dr. Richmond, of course– but mostly Harry. 

He was nice. And she wants him to like her. Ballad of a girl who craves academic validation.

The door to the lecture hall is locked, so y/n takes a seat on the floor right next to the door, and cracks her book open. She’s only 15 pages in, but she’s already enthralled. She can’t count how many times this novel has been recommended to her – always in those “best books to read in fall<3” tik toks, or the list of classics recommended by the New York Times – and she gets it. She zones in, her eyes flickering from one page to the next as her headphones softly play Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. She’s not one to usually listen to music while she reads (she usually finds it to be too distracting), but she’s so engrossed in this world and these characters that she barely remembers that she’s still listening to music. The people walking past her in the hallway fade away, the fluorescent lights transform into the dark library her book characters are currently huddled in, and no sound passes through her wired headphones – not even the heeled boots clicking against the tile floors, getting closer and closer to her. 

She only realizes that she’s not alone when those brown boots stop right in front of her, shining brightly in contrast to her worn out sneakers. She looks up suddenly, yanking her headphones out of her ears. Harry towers over her, key in hand, which he sticks into the lock. A soft smirk twists at his lips, and his green eyes flicker to where she’s looking up at him from the floor. 

“Miss y/n,” he says with a pleasant nod, a hint of amusement in his voice, “You’re here early.”

She folds the corner of the page she’s on and stands up, gently shutting her book. “I didn’t want to be late,” she responds, fussing with her stubborn headphones, which refuse to tuck into her back pocket. “I don’t have many classes in this building… didn’t want to get lost or anything on the first day.” 

He opens the door and lets y/n in first, following in closely behind her. “Punctuality is good.” He props the door open. 

She looks around the lecture hall. It’s not nearly as big as the classrooms she usually sits in for her psychology classes – those classes are huge, usually filled with a bunch of freshmen from all sorts of majors trying to fulfill their lower division GE requirements and whatnot. Those lecture halls could fit up to 400 people. This one probably wouldn’t fit more than 60. 

Not a problem though, considering that this class only had about 40 students enrolled (she checked last night). 

She wonders where she should sit. Too far in the back and she’d make the wrong first impression… but too close to the front and she might be the annoying kid that asks too many questions. Third row is her best bet. 

There’s still about 15 minutes before the class is scheduled to start, and she’s still the only one in the lecture hall apart from Harry. She feels a bit awkward, being the person in the sea of seats, but Harry pays no mind to her, shuffling through papers and logging onto the computer at the front podium. Though her book sits opened on her lap, she can’t help but stare at him.

He’s wearing brown trousers, well fitted around his legs and cutting off perfectly at his ankles as if they were custom tailored for him. Cream colored socks adorn his ankles and those shiny, brown leather boots click against the floor with his every step. Very professional, but also casual with the way his white button up is rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the top. He’s missing those cute glasses today, though. 

She watches as he struggles to turn the projector on, his eyebrows furrowed as he presses all the buttons on the panel. The lights in the classroom turn on and off again, and the computer audio mutes and unmutes before he finally figures out how to get the screen to roll down and the projector to flicker on. Despite him being only a few years older, he looks like an old man toggling with the buttons and trying to get technology to work in his favor. She bites back a smile, and quickly looks down to her book when Harry’s eyes briefly flicker to hers. From her peripheral vision, she can see him laughing as well and shaking his head at himself. 

She traces her fingers over the pages of the book, clearly well loved and worn out. She got it from the library just last week, after having been on the waitlist for the book for the past month. She can see why it’s so popular though, already so engrossed by the plot. The pages are old and yellow, the edges folded and ripped with years of use, and it has that old book smell that she just adores. How old is this book? It was published in the 90’s, wasn’t it?

Harry’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Reading something good?” 

She looks up at him with wide eyes. He’s managed to successfully display the course syllabus on the projector screen, and is now walking around the desk with a stack of papers in his hand. He stands in front of the very first row, leaning his weight onto one leg with a hand in his pocket. 

“Oh, um–” she falters, “I actually just started it. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be really good.” She sits up straighter in her seat, “Have you heard of it? The Secret History?”

Harry purses his lips, “Sounds familiar… haven’t read it though. You’ll have to tell me if it’s worth reading, alright?”

She nods, smiling shyly. Call her delusional but… it feels like a bit of an honor for him to trust her with a book recommendation. That takes a lot of trust, doesn’t it? To trust that someone will recommend a good book to you? 

She’s totally making a big deal out of nothing. She does that sometimes. 

“How about you?” she asks, her voice embarrassingly quiet. She’s shy, and nervous, and she’s not that good at small talk, and Harry is looking at her with these intense, green eyes that make her feel like she’s saying the most important thing in the world. She clears her throat, forcing her voice to not come out scared and shaky, “Read anything good lately?”

He grins, and she can tell this is probably his favorite thing to talk about.  “M’reading, like, five books at once,” he admits sheepishly. “Kafka on the Shore, if you’ve heard of it… Notes from Underground, by Dostoevsky for one of m’own classes…” he purses his lips in thought, “Started re-reading Paradise Lost as well. We’re analyzing it in one of the other classes im TA-ing, n’ it’s one of my favorites to teach,” he says with a shrug. His eyes are so thoughtful as he lists off the books that he’s reading, flickering green and gold. He’s just… beautiful.

“I haven’t read any of them,” y/n says regretfully, wishing that she could impress him with some sort of intellectual talk about one of these books. “I’ve had Kafka on the Shore on my list for a while, though.” 

He smiles. “S’a good one.” There’s a dimple in his left cheek that pinches cutely, the glimmer in his eyes a sight to behold. His pretty pink lips purse thoughtfully, his heart shaped cupid's bow twitching as though he has more to say – but then another student walks in. 

Harry’s head whips around. His jawline is sharp, and he nods politely at the new student. “Good morning,” he murmurs to the girl – that same welcoming voice that had made y/n’s heart flutter that first day that she met him. 

He turns back to y/n, and hands her a paper from the stack in his hands. “The syllabus,” he says, his eyes kind and warm.

She swallows thickly as he walks away from her, enamored already. 

+++

“Classes will be Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Dr. Richmond lectures from the front of the class. His voice is croaky and old, so he has a tiny microphone clipped to his shirt pocket to project his voice to the back of the class – despite the small size of the lecture hall. “Thursdays I’ll lead the class,” he drones on, “We’ll analyze the romantic era… how their literature was a reflection of their politics… how they set the foundation of modern day consumerism, capitalism, patriarchy, globalism, imperialism…” he waves his hand passively. “The works.”

 He takes a long sip of water, and his swallow echoes through the class, amplified by his shirt microphone. Y/n cringes at the wet mouth sounds as he smacks his lips together. 

“On Tuesday’s–” his voice booms through the microphone again, “you will come to a class discussion led by Harry. This means that you’ll have the entire weekend to do the readings…” 

Nearly all the eyes in the room flicker to Harry, who’s been standing quietly in the corner with his hands folded behind his back while Dr. Richmond continues to lecture. He gives a small, almost bashful wave to the class at the mention of his name, his eyes scanning the room of unfamiliar faces. Their eyes meet, and his lips twist into a smile. This is the third time she’s caught his eye during the lecture.

He stares at her for a second, eyes glinting as if the two of them have a secret that they’re not sharing with the rest of the class. It makes her heart race in her chest, smiling back at him secretly.

She breaks their eye contact when Dr. Richmond croaks out with the last of his voice, “Any questions?” 

He’s met with silence.

“No? Okay good, class dismissed. See you all on Thursday.” 

The class bustles with life, backpacks zipping and pull out desks squeaking as everyone slowly trickles out of the room. A line forms in front of Dr. Richmond’s podium, with students eagerly introducing themselves and asking questions about the syllabus, only to be redirected to the back of the new line forming in front of Harry’s corner. Harry smiles kindly at every question and speaks with eloquence, strikingly different to Dr. Richmond’s grumbling and groaning. 

It’s glaringly obvious that Harry is going to be a class favorite. 

In the middle of answering a redheaded boy’s question, his gaze wanders over to y/n, watching her as she packs up her things, eyes following her to the door. She tucks her book under her arm and plugs her headphones into her ear, throwing her bag over her shoulder. 

Her drink is finished, just a cup full of melting ice at this point, so she stops at the trash can right at the front of the door. As she throws it away, she manages one final glance back at Harry. He’s already looking at her. He grins when their eyes meet, and gives a small wave goodbye. 

She bites back a smile, then hurries out of the classroom before he gets the chance to see her giddy eyes and heating cheeks. 

+++

Y/n honestly doesn’t love going to office hours. 

It’s hard, because on one hand, she knows that she should go to them and form a relationship with her professors so that they can write her letters of rec in the future… but on the other, they’re so crowded and awkward! Every other student is there for the same reason as her, going into office hours to ask their silly questions and try to butter up the professor. There are usually at least a dozen college students in there, waiting for their one second interaction with the professor before they all get kicked out at the end of the hour. It’s annoying and a waste of her time. Plus, she doubts Dr. Richmond is all that into getting buttered up 

That’s why she chooses to go to TA office hours instead. Usually much more quiet and much more intimate. Not that many people like to go to TA office hours for some reason, which means she usually gets to have one-on-one help. And sometimes (if the TA is really cool) they’ll basically give her the answers to the homework – a good thing, right?

Well… not when the TA is this ridiculously attractive and charming boy with curly brown hair and pretty green eyes that she can’t help but have a teensy little crush on.

 Like… can you blame her? He’s smart and handsome, and so incredibly kind and sweet. His eyes glimmer when he talks about his favorite books and his lips are always curled into a smile that makes her heart bubble. Always so polite and respectful, doing gentlemanly things while his boyish dimples pinch his cheeks. His voice is slow and sultry like smooth honey – and you can just tell that his mind is a beautiful place just from the way he talks. 

He’s just… endearing. Straight out of some romance book– and y/n loves romance!!! She can’t help but have a little bit of a heart flutter when she sees him standing in the corner of the lecture hall, especially when their eyes meet and he smiles at her cutely. 

He’s just being nice – she knows that, and she is well aware that she’s very delusional and that nothing is going to happen… but still, the prospect of going to his office hours and potentially having a one-on-one conversation with him makes her giddy and nervous at the same time. 

She pulls herself together and shakes away all the silly thoughts clouding her brain. Hoisting her bag up her shoulder, she enters the small office, the gold plaque reading Styles, H. shining proudly as she walks through the door. 

Harry doesn’t hear her walk in, his brows furrowed behind his tortoise shell glasses. A red pen is in his hand, brutally attacking a freshman essay. He looks up, a tad bit startled, when she knocks on the door timidly. 

The furrow in his brow immediately softens and turns into that familiar, kind smile. “Miss y/n,” his eyes shine like the nighttime sky filled with stars, “My first student of the day.” 

“Oh,” she checks the time. “I thought office hours started like, thirty minutes ago. Was I wrong? Am I early?” She intentionally wanted to show up a little late, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“No, no – you were right,” he hums, putting his pen down. “Not many students tend to show up to our office hours, is all. Especially not during the first week.”

She bites on the inside of her lip and wonders if she should be embarrassed for being the only one to show up, but Harry is quick to continue,“I wish more people did come, though. Like– if nobody shows up, all I do is sit here and grade for an hour.” His lips purse out cutely, a thoughtful pout, “And I hate grading.” 

“Oh– I’ll probably be here a lot,” y/n says mindlessly. “I always have questions. And Dr. Richmond kinda scares me.”

Harry sputters out a laugh, and y/n’s cheeks heat up. Maybe that was inappropriate to say. But then Harry leans in and whispers, “He scares me too, sometimes.”

It’s these charming little moments that make him so endearing. She tries not to get too distracted by his dimples and how his fingers tap delicately against his thigh, hugged deliciously by another pair of well fitting trousers. 

“Um– if it’s not a bother, I was wondering if I could ask about the first assignment? I was kind of confused about what's expected from us for the free-write thing…”

“M’all yours,” Harry murmurs, gesturing to the seat across from his desk.

+++

Y/n’s fatal flaw is thinking that she can beat a rainstorm.

She actively knew there was an 80% chance of rain today. She saw the rainy streets. She heard the weather forecast. But did she bring an umbrella with herself to campus? 

No.

Somehow she rationalized in her brain that she didn’t need it. It was barely sprinkling when she walked out of her apartment, and the walk to class was only like 15 minutes! She’d make it to campus and then she’d be indoors all day and by the time she needed to go home the rain would probably have died down, and everything would be fine.

Oh how wrong she was. Silly girl. 

The rain is pounding down on her right now. Big fat raindrops soaking through her hoodie and turning her light wash denim jeans into a completely new color. She has many regrets. What had started off as a cute little walk in the rain has turned into her running through a fucking monsoon or something. The slight, gentle drizzle had escalated to pouring rain in a matter of seconds. She had left her apartment with her earbuds playing Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, romanticizing her little stroll in the rain – but now her wire headphones are barely hanging on as half-speedwalks/ half-runs down the sidewalk with her head down. 

When she gets stuck at a crosswalk on a busy street, she glances frantically to her left and right, trying to find a tree or a building to take shelter under. But the sky is wide and open, no roof or canopy for her to hide under. She stands helplessly, the rain pouring down on her. The only thing she can do is pull her hood up and grip it tightly so that the rain doesn’t get in her face. 

The rain pierces through her clothes, and the wind feels extra cold against her wet jeans. Thank god she at least wore rainboots today, she thinks to herself as she stares down at the ground. This would suck even more if her socks were getting wet. She had thought far ahead enough to anticipate the possibility of puddles – and yet still didn’t imagine the need for an umbrella. The hems of her pants are soaked and feel horrible against her ankles, and she knows for a fact that she’s gonna have to let her hoodie air dry or something during Dr. Richmond’s lecture. Ugh. She hopes the lecture hall is warmer than it is out here.

She readjusts her headphones, pushing the earbuds further into her ear after they nearly fell out whilst she was running here. She likes this song, and it’s kind of romantic to be listening to it in the rain (it would be even more romantic if she wasn’t SOAKED TO THE CORE). If there’s anything y/n will do, it’s romanticize the shit out of any situation. 

Cars are driving past quickly, but she can’t hear them, her music loud enough to drown out their annoying engines. She stares at a nearby puddle, looking at how it ripples as each drop of rain splatters into it. She wonders if mother nature has a personal vendetta against her – if Earth had personally planned to make it rain super hard the minute that she stepped out of her apartment. Why does she always do this? This isn’t the first time she’s caught herself soaked because she was too lazy to bring an umbrella with herself – and it probably isn’t the last time either. She crosses her arms across her chest and hides her hands in her sleeves, hugging herself tightly as a feeble defense against the biting rain. Why won’t the stupid crosswalk turn on? Her slightly damp hair falls into her eyes as she looks back down at her boots, letting out an annoyed huff. 

The shadow of a new person tickles her peripheral vision. They brought an umbrella. She scolds herself once more. 

 It takes her a second to realize that, although she can still see the rain drizzling around her, splattering against the ground and splashing onto her boots… she actually doesn’t feel the gentle patter of raindrops against the top of her head anymore. She looks up. 

Somehow, she is now under the umbrella. And the person holding said umbrella… is Harry. 

He looks gorgeous as usual, dressed in a dark blue trench coat, black trousers, and some sleek black boots with gold buckles on them. Standing to her left, he holds his umbrella up between them in a way that shields both of them from the rain. He stares forward innocently, pretending like everything is normal – like he hadn't just snuck up next to her and shared his umbrella with her. She can see a slight smile tugging on his lips though, and when she stares at him long enough, he peeks over at her with a glint shimmering in his pupils. His pretty pink lips curl into that sideways smile, and he says nothing. 

Y/n can’t help but give a dumbstruck little laugh. Of course it would be Harry. 

He winks at her, ever so charming and mischievous, then turns back to face the road. The crosswalk switches from Stop to Go, and Harry takes a step forward. Y/n follows in his stride.

They say nothing, and walk to their lecture shoulder to shoulder.

+++

“So,” Harry says with a clap, his voice loud and strong, “I hope you all got the chance to do the first chapter of our reading.” Unlike Dr. Richmond, Harry doesn’t need a microphone to project his voice to the back of the class. All eyes are staring at him, ears listening intently. And all the girls are staring at his pretty pink lips, and how they curl over each word (y/n included). 

“I know life gets in the way, so if y’ever don’t get the chance to finish the assigned reading… tha’s okay,” he says with a quirk of his lips. “M’not gonna be mad. I just ask that you don’t let it turn into a habit, and y’don’t pretend like you read it. M’gonna know if you’re bullshitting me… so just don’t even try.” The entire class laughs, and Harry’s dimple pokes his cheek. 

“So– be honest– how many of you guys read the first chapter?” 

All the students raise their hands, and Harry nods approvingly, “Nice… very nice.” He’s a natural at the front of the classroom, entertaining and intellectual at the same time – confident and eloquent. His words are thoughtful and slow, but not one student seems to be bored by his slow drawl. No – instead everyone hangs onto his every word, dripping soft and thick like golden honey. He answers questions easily and plays off of student responses like a pro, and everyone seems keen on impressing him with fancy literature talk.

“You might have seen on our course page that I posted a series of discussion questions… I’ll try to have these up at least a week in advance so that you can have them in the back of your mind whilst you’re reading. I always find it to be particularly stimulating to be reading a novel with a question in mind… dunno, makes me feel sharper while I read. Does anyone else feel that way?” He talks to the class as if they’re all friends, mildly flirtatious in the natural, charming way that he is. 

The group of undergraduates nod back at him, enthralled by his smile and his wit and just everything about him. God, his smile is just so charming. “Okay... how about we get started with the first one? Wait– actually, before that… I’m just wondering, have any of you already read Frankenstein before?”

Two students out of the forty raise their hands – a boy wearing a Bob Dylan t-shirt, and y/n. 

Harry’s eyes meet y/n’s for the first time since they entered the classroom together. They’d walked across campus together in comfortable silence, past the campus Starbucks and the Social Science buildings, and when they got to the Literature department building Harry had held the door open for her, while shaking off the rain droplets from his umbrella. They walked through the halls side by side as well, Harry’s shiny boots clicking in time with the squeak of y/n’s wet sneakers against the tile floors. All he had said to her during the entirety of their walk was “After you,” when he’d opened the door for her. 

Now he looks at her for the first time in what feels like ages, and gives her an approving nod. He already knew that, from that very first day when she’d come to his office, asking for permission codes and what not. She feels her heart fluttering excitedly, just from that single nod. 

“Interesting… so it’s a first read for most of you. Brilliant! We’ll have a good time reading it together, I promise,” he says, his green eyes gleaming. “I love this book – it’s sometimes called the first science fiction book, written at a time where technology was first being introduced, and it’s regarded as one of the most famous novels of the Romantic era. Mary Shelly, the author, was a prominent Romantic era writer who shared the common Romantic appreciation for the natural world and how art can evoke emotions, which we can clearly see in her novel. We’ll take a few different approaches while analyzing it. Most prominently through a Romantic lens – but we’ll also do a feminist reading and religious reading, as well as a biographical approach… which brings us to the first discussion question – ‘Frankenstein is ultimately a novel about creation– a new and terrifying exploration of bringing life into the world. Based on what you read in the introduction, how can we see Mary Shelly’s personal experiences with life, birth, and death in the themes explored in Frankenstein?’” He looks up from the sheet of paper that he just read the question aloud from with bright eyes, “Anyone want to start us off?” 

The class is silent, the crowd of students suddenly much quieter compared to when they’d been going back and forth with playful banter to Harry’s jokes. Everyone’s a little too nervous to be the first one to say anything, and nobody wants to say the wrong thing. Harry holds his breath, and searches for a hand to save them from this awkward bit of silence. This kind of shyness is normal for the first day of classes – in fact, he’d expected it – but it still doesn’t mean it’s any less awkward. His eyes flicker from one side of the class to the other, from the front row to the back.

He almost misses y/n’s hand, timidly raising from her set spot in the third row. Harry’s eyes light up. “Miss y/n,” he murmurs, “go ahead.”

“Well, in the introduction we learn that Mary Shelly had a few failed pregnancies before writing her novel, and that her own mother had passed during childbirth complications. Shelly goes on to depict the cycle of life as destructive… Frankenstein’s monster is this disfigured creature that the creator is running from, which we see right at the beginning. The introduction implies that this “horrifying” birth and the death of the creator at the hands of what it created, might be symbolic of her own experiences.” 

“Excellent. That’s exactly right,” his smiles meet his eyes, and they twinkle, impressed. “The reason we have this as the first discussion question,” Harry turns back to the rest of the class, “is because I want you guys to keep it in mind while reading. Look for the ways Shelly describes birth –  take note of the strained relationship she creates between the creator and his creation. Also, recall how Shelly herself proclaimed this book to be her “hideous progeny” – to use such intense language whilst also calling it her “progeny” holds a lot of implications of what Shelly’s view on Creation is – whether is biologically or creatively. This is something that we’ll discuss further in depth when we get farther into the novel, so I want you all to start thinking about it now.”

All the students in the room nod intently, writing down what Harry said word for word.

“Furthermore, has anyone noticed that we’ve already seen a lot of references to fire? Pretty obvious symbolism, right?” The class nods. “Does anyone know why she chose fire, specifically?”

It’s silent again. Y/n looks around herself to see if anyone else might have the answer, but everyone stares up at Harry blankly.

“Don’t be shy on me now, guys. Promise m’not mean,” Harry smiles, “Just wanna get the discussion flowing.”

Y/n shyly raises her hand again. “It’s a reference to Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods – she even alternatively calls her story The Modern Prometheus.” 

 His eyes glimmer, a shine behind his irises that doesn’t show up when he looks at his other students – just y/n. As hard as he tries not to pick favorites… he can’t help but harbor a little bit of favoritism towards her. “Very good, Miss y/n,” he praises with a soft smile.

Y/n’s cheeks turn hot and she ducks her head down, unable to stop the reciprocating smile from spreading on her face. 

+++

“Miss y/n,” Harry calls out to her as the students file out of the classroom. “A word, please.” 

Y/n hoists her bag over her shoulder and makes her way to the podium where he stands. He’s packing up his own things, his own beat up copy of Frankenstein being placed delicately in his bag, along with a stack of other papers and things that he has to grade. A few other students have approached him, asking questions that they were too shy to ask during class, but with a sly smile he tells them to ask their questions at his office hours (Thursdays at 5 – but y/n already knew that!). Her fingers twist nervously behind her back as she stands awkwardly by his side as the rest of the students ask their questions and trickle out. 

He waits until all the students have left, and it’s just him and y/n standing by the podium, before he says anything to her.

“You were making some excellent points today in class,” he looks up at her briefly with a smirk, “I appreciate your participation. Class is always more difficult to lead when students don’t participate.” 

“Oh,” she blinks. She’s never been thanked for participating in class. “Erm– yeah. I-I’m happy to participate.” She readjusts her bag, tugging it higher up her shoulders, “S’just kinda like a big book club if y’really think about it.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees with a quirk of his lips. He zips up his bag, and pulls it over his own shoulder, “How are you planning on getting home?”

A strange follow up question, she thinks to herself. But she responds, nonetheless, “Oh, I was just gonna walk.” Harry peers out of the window, then looks back at y/n, his eyebrows raised. She follows his gaze, and realizes that it is still raining like crazy outside. 

A heavy sigh escapes her lips without her permission. Of course. “I guess I’ll just wait it out,” she shrugs, walking towards the door alongside Harry. 

He locks the door behind them, with her lingering closely by, waiting for him. “Do you live far?” 

“No, not really. Just a 15 minute walk.” They walk towards the building exit, and Harry pulls out his umbrella. “Not too bad, as long as there isn’t a monsoon going on outside,” she finishes with a petulant grumble.

Harry chuckles lowly, his dimples shining brightly. “I was just going to offer… y’know, since it’s still raining and you’re umbrella-less…” his eyes twinkle teasingly, “I could drive you home? Wouldn’t want you to get soaked again when you’ve only just dried off.” 

“Oh!” she bubbles, looking at him with wide eyes. “Really? You would do that?” He nods, but she presses, “Are you sure that wouldn’t be a hassle? I mean– like, really I could just stay here and read until the rain dies down–”

“S’not a hassle,” he reassures. “Y’don’t even know when the rain will be gone– could be all night. It’ll be cold, n’dark… it’d make me feel better knowing you got home safe, yeah?”

“Gosh that’s… that’s really nice of you,” she says, almost pouting. 

He just smiles, pushing the door open and opening his umbrella for the two of them to huddle under. His car is parked in the graduate student parking lot, so it’s not too far of a walk (although they’re doing more of a brisk speedwalk, trying to get out of the rain and wind as fast as possible). The rain patters harshly on top of his umbrella, but they manage to stay dry, shoulders brushing together and their warm bodies radiating heat onto each other.

He unlocks his car and opens the passenger's seat for her, making sure that she’s covered from the rain as she slides into her seat. He then runs over to his own side, quickly shutting his umbrella and throwing it into the backseat. His fingers are numb as he turns the car on, and he immediately blasts the heat for the two of them, putting his frozen fingers in front of the warm air. “God, not even three minutes out there n’ I’m already freezing m’bits off,” he mumbles to himself. He turns to her, and smiles when he sees her copying his actions, “Isn’t this so much better that walking home?”

All she can give is a nod, wriggling her fingers in front of his heaters. Her teeth are chattering as she barely manages to chatter out, “S’freezing.”

“Wind would’ve blown you away before you even made it home, I reckon.” He plays with the windshield wipers until they’re on the highest setting, but even then his windshield is blurry from the rain. He makes sure to drive extra slow and cautiously, reversing out at the speed of a snail and turning his high beams on.

It’s only when she’s sitting in the front seat of his car that a somewhat important thought floats to the forefront of her mind – “is this allowed?”

“Is what allowed?” He's half paying attention, half checking both sides of the road before turning left onto the street. 

“Like– I mean you’re sort of my professor, I guess,” she stumbles over her words, “Is it… would you get in trouble? For like… giving me a ride?”

Harry’s eyebrows pinch thoughtfully, “Well, first of all– Dr. Richmond’s your professor, not me. Secondly– I don’t see why it would be against the rules. S’just a car ride,” he shrugs. 

She relaxes in her seat, nodding. She supposes he’s right. It’s just a car ride.

“But– if anything,” he adds on with, turning to her momentarily with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Y/n’s lips curl. “Okay,” she giggles. 

It’ll be their little secret. 

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 14) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 2) is already posted on patreon! : In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out

Prose Masterlist

[ouiouimochi]

hi I noticed that u were pipino hehe... since it's her months already, can I req how the characters react to f!reader basically celebrating Christmas literally MONTHS early

thankyou for requesting anon! I'm guessing you meant ber months? funny thing is I've gotten started on writing something for that prompt already but you requesting it also urged me to finish lmao… it's kind of rushed? but I do hope you enjoy it!

Never too early to celebrate the holidays!

context: so here in the Philippines, we actually start preparing for Christmas(heck even celebrating it) in September or the start of the ber months. now imagine how the defense force reacts to you practicing this

pairing/s: various kn8 x reader

genre/s: scenario type, slice of life, romance if you squint well, comedy, crack

wc: 2k

warnings: some characters may be ooc, not exactly canon compliant, grammatical errors, no beta we die like cattle, character studies just went out the window in this crackfic, careful for whiplash sweeties! huge mood changes

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*

It was an unusually relaxed day in the Defense Force, free from the hectic stress of kaiju threats and the like. The day was spent training as usual, but everyone can tell that the atmosphere wasn't heavy with the burden of protecting Japan. They just knew, despite their doubts, that it wasn't the calm before a storm— the worry that their respite would soon be ruined by the stupid beasts that had been haunting them since time immemorial.

There was a distinct chill in the air, signaling the start of the crisp season of autumn. The officers of the Defense Force were already used to the drop in temperature, however some were not completely immune.

You were currently surrounded by your fellow recruits, talking about the sudden cold.

“It feels quite colder than last year,” Kikoru mentions, a small shiver running down her body. She rubs her hands together to gain warmth.

“Yeah, it wasn't this bad then.” Haruichi agreed while burying his hands deep into his parka jacket.

The group continued walking through the streets of the city, their batch having been approved for a day off after training.

“Reno, how in the damned hell are you unaffected?” reno my ice ice baby girl- Iharu hounded the mint haired male as he picked at the other male’s choice of outdoor clothes, the latter responding with a raise of an eyebrow and a shrug.

“We should get warm drinks,” you piped up as everyone expressed their agreement at your suggestion.

“I know just the place.” Haruichi pulled out his phone to show the group a cafe located not too far away. Before long, everyone arrived at the establishment with the ring of the bell above the door.

“Hot chocolate would be perfect,” Kafka sighed out, everyone else thinking of what warm drink to get as their eyes scoured through the menu.

“I'll probably have my usual coffee.”

“Maybe matcha tea?”

“Hot milk tea for me.”

“Macchiato.”

“There's no eggnog?” imsosorryidkwhatchristmasdrinktoputlmao a hum followed as the whole group stared at you with varying emotions.

You had a finger to your lip in thought while scanning the menu. You had your eyebrows slightly scrunched in concentration, debating what to get. A few gazes lingered on your face for a bit too long.

Noticing the silence, you looked at your friends and tilted your head. Realization creeps on your face and you cover your mouth with one palm, bowing apologetically.

“My bad, I didn't mean for everyone to wait for my order… I'll get the same as Reno then,” you sheepishly said.

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

“Hold on, I think I have to go get my package.”

“Again? That's like the 6th one this month, (Y/n).” Kikoru stopped walking before turning to you to raise an eyebrow while resting her hands on her waist.

You shrugged your shoulders, seeing no problem in buying stuff with your own money coughcoughnarumicanneverjkcough.

“What's wrong with it? It's not like I'm broke from buying stuff from Yamazon, no? Unlike…” you trailed off, letting your blonde friend finish for you.

She sighs in response, dropping her arms to her sides as you two resume walking.

“As much as I want to say a comeback, you're right about my moronic teacher… I swear, he always asks me for money.”

“Oh, Kikoru…” you pat her back, laughing lightheartedly, “but I do gotta wonder how he does that when his paycheck is more loaded than mine…”

Your younger friend shook her head, already done with the conversation. She waved you goodbye when you two had to separate ways.

You hummed on your way to the office where one receives any delivered goods from outside the base. You waved and smiled at the nice lady at the desk you managed to get acquainted with from your recent visits.

She pulled up a few boxes from under her desk, creating quite the stack. The lady sweat dropped when her eyes trailed from the piled parcels to you— realizing that it'd be quite troublesome for you to carry alone.

Meeting her gaze and knowing what she was thinking, you shook your head and pulled a thumbs up.

“Don't worry, I can handle this. I just have to sign here as usual right?”

She only nodded, still a little worried as you started stacking each box carefully in your arms. Her concern only raised when your head was barely peeking out from the topmost package.

“Thank you again!” and you somehow safely maneuvered yourself out the doorway without hitting anything.

You were doing pretty well despite having most of your eyesight blocked, having to rely on your other senses. You gotta be thankful that all that training paid off, but perhaps you may have overestimated your capabilities.

Although, you could've sworn nobody was in the vicinity as you felt no other presence— heard no other footsteps, rustling of clothes, or even breathing—, you still failed to react fast enough when you collided with someone at the next turn.

Your eyes widened in surprise while some of your packages flew upwards. Everything was in slow motion but you felt a faint warmth wrap around your back and waist to catch you from falling.

You focused more on the packages that were about to fall— afraid that some of the items would break— and caught them… except for one that soared a bit too far from your reach.

Thankfully, the person who you collided with managed to grab ahold of the last box. You closed your eyes and sighed in relief.

A deep playful chuckle reverberated in the air. Your eyes opened to be met with the cheeky grin of Vice Captain Hoshina. implayingfavoritesperhaps

You blinked at him before standing up straight and off his arm.

“Vice Captain Hoshina, sir! I apologize for the disrespect, but I am unable to currently salute you, sir…”

The man only laughs and waves it off with a friendly smile, a hint of one of his canines poking out.

“At ease,” he scanned you from head to toe, “quite a hazard to walk around with ‘ya vision blocked, no?” still in his hand was the package he caught for you.

“I was holding up quite well due to your training…” you stared up at him before narrowing your eyes jokingly, “But your movements had no sound at all, not even a rustle of your clothes.”

He hummed before taking half the pile of boxes in your arms.

“Where to?”

You tilted your head curiously at his gesture. Alhough it was not unusual for the vice captain to be kind, he usually didn’t show it in such a straightforward way. Nonetheless, you appreciated how he still left some for you to carry on your own.

You smiled and answered him, both of you falling in step towards your destination.

“So what're these for? Noticed you've had deliveries the past month as well.” The purple haired man queried.

You had a slight skip in your step, quite excited to open up the packages that you received. In response to his inquiry, you smiled up at him with a glint in your eyes, “Just some early gift buying for the holidays, sir.” before turning your head away to hum a tune in your head.

‘Christmas shopping in September?’

Hoshina’s eyes remain trained on your form, processing what you just said, before he shook his head and just let you be. Everyone else had learned to not to question you much no matter how… eccentric you were at times. Your eccentricity was one of your charms anyways.

“Careful with what you buy, don't want ‘ya ending up like a certain captain of the First Division…” He advised, finding the opportunity to poke fun at said person despite their current absence.

You rolled your eyes, finding it funny that this is the nth time today Captain Narumi was slandered. “I'm more responsible with my money than you all think, sir.”

Far away in the Ariake Maritime Base of the JAKDF, a certain two-toned haired male let out a sneeze while he was busy playing on his gaming console.

Hasegawa shook his head, “that's what gaming all night gets you,” the older man chided his captain as the said person only covered his ears, unwilling to listen to another lecture.

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

Another yoju drops dead on the concrete ground, everyone’s comms crackling to life.

“Immeasurable amount of yoju bounding to Zone Beta, honju’s whereabouts are unknown,” the familiar voice of Operations Manager Okonogi made itself through the earpiece.

“There's just no end to this!” an officer grumbled as everyone else started bounding to the designated zone.

“Kaiju horde spotted, permission to engage?” You announced into your device while readying your gun, being the first in position. The horde had an average of only 3.6 fortitude level— however, their numbers were what made them problematic. The operations room gave you the signal, indicating that it was something you could handle with your capabilities despite only being a recruit.

You wasted not another moment, immediately pulling the trigger of your pre-aimed gun. A yoju drops as its fellow species trampled over its fallen corpse.

The ground was rumbling with the beasts’ stampede through the open road. Yet again, another shot, another corpse. They were still far from your position, so you continued to efficiently gun down kaiju after kaiju.

You get into a steady beat, unconsciously following a certain rhythm from the back of your mind. You remain locked in, completely washing out most of your surroundings— well of course you are still aware of what's going on around you, just more hyperaware than ever.

“First Division backup has arrived at Zone Beta”

You continued firing away, by now the horde was noticeably dwindling away already. A pair of red glaring lenses watched on, having the pleasure of watching your work first hand as the owner was fastest to arrive.

Captain Narumi only wanted to quickly clear the largest wave of kaiju emergence of the year by far— cursing already how his division had to do a joint operation with the Third. Color him impressed as he just observed how you could clear the horde pretty much on your own. He was mesmerized by the timing and pattern of which you fired your gun—

He narrows his eyes when he realizes something, noticing that it was like you were casually playing a rhythm game with the monsters. Well, that wasn't exactly what made him pause…

‘She isn't shooting them down in the beat of a Christmas song, is she?'

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ

“Do any of you think that maybe—just maybee—(Y/n) is actually insane?” Iharu randomly blurted out as the usual group of recruits gathered around. You weren't present at the moment since you were called to the captain's office for something.

“You’re the madman here for being brave enough to even question it.” Kikoru stated matter-of-factly.

“We're literally surrounded by unique people, why are you only pointing fingers at her?” Reno raised an eyebrow, ready to defend you anytime.

“I mean… it's only September… and she's already making holiday preparations!” The pink-haired male tried to explain.

“...He does make quite the point.” Kafka nodded along.

“Eh, how are you all sure she's been doing so?” Reno challenged.

The eldest of the group mentioned what he noticed, “Hasn’t (Y/n) been craving and looking for Christmas season food—”

“You've no right to judge a woman's sudden urge to eat something.” Hakua interjected, the tall female always so passionate when it comes to cuisine.

“Come to think of it… Her part of the room’s been unusually cramped with some packages...” Akari’s mellow voice echoed out.

“It's not really our business to pry into how she uses her paychecks though…”

and so the group bickered back and forth— one half providing ‘evidence’ of your weird behavior, the second half making up possible reasons behind them.

“She’s been humming ‘All I want for Christmas is You‘ by Mariah Carey the past 2 weeks for fuck's sake!”

⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*⁠･⁠｡⁠ᴥ⁠༚˳•⁠⁠°. ☆ﾟ⁠˖⁠*

notes: CRYING SCREAMING HOW DO I WRITE HOSHINA TALKING I FORGOT HOW TO WRITE HIM HHHHHHH (too lazy to edit his parts, this has been in the drafts since the start of september… kinda wanna get it over and done with-)

this was hella rushed, isn't it obvious I made different parts at different days? its a mess just like me :P

[hockey-fics]

No Flirting at Trivia - Quinn Hughes 

Summary: After moving to Vancouver by yourself you start to doubt your decisions. But one group of people make you feel a little more welcome in the new city.  And there’s one person in particular who makes you certain you made the right decision. 

Word Count: ~5,800

Warnings: Pretty wholesome, some drinking. 

A/N: Honestly, don’t really know much about Quinn Hughes, he just gives kinda quiet, sweet vibes so I ran with that for this one. Could be way out of character, I’m not sure. 

Moving to Vancouver was a huge decision, one that almost didn’t happen. When you got the job offer and they also offered to pay for you to relocate there weren’t any rational reasons to say no. The job was great, the pay was great, the benefits were great. But you didn’t know anyone in Vancouver. You had never moved to a new city not knowing a single person there. 

But you didn’t want to regret letting the opportunity go so you packed up everything you owned into a U-Haul and made the journey to Vancouver. For a couple weeks you worried that you had made a huge mistake. Your job was great but that’s where the positives ended. The only social interaction you had was at work, which was even limited with the majority of your days being spent with your eyes locked on the computer in your cubicle. There was a loneliness to your life that made you question if you had made the right choice. 

That was until you met Kayla. She lived in the apartment directly across from yours. After seeing each other and exchanging fairly standard small talk a few times she invited you to a dinner party she was having. You said yes immediately and a few days later you were in an apartment with more people at one time than you had talked to in the entire three weeks you had lived there. Not only were you welcomed with open arms that night but you were quickly incorporated into the little group of friends. You were invited to everything they went to and did and you stopped feeling so lonely in the new city. 

It had officially been three months since you moved to Vancouver and things were starting to feel more and more normal everyday. It was a Friday night and you were meeting your friends at a pub that they promised had some of the best burgers in the city. When you got there you slide into an empty spot next to Quinn, saying a round of hellos to everyone who was already there. Quinn had made you feel especially comfortable from the moment you met him. He seemed to go out of his way to make sure you were included in conversations, always saving you a spot next to him at every table you all sat at, always asking questions about your life. 

“How was work?” Quinn asks. 

Looking up from the menu you give him a little shrug. “Not bad, how was your day? Did you have practice today?”

Quinn nods, leaning back in his chair as if even the thought of it was tiring. “Yeah, wasn’t bad though. 

“We should go to karaoke,” Kayla blurts out, drawing everyones attention towards her. “There’s that place right down the street, I haven’t been in so long.”

“I don’t know,” Quinn tells her. 

“I’m down,” you reply, taking a sip of your drink. You can see Quinn looking at you from your peripheral vision. Turning to look at him you wait for him to say something but he simply turns his attention back to the table. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m in,” Quinn relents. 

After a little more discussion it’s decided that you would all go to the karaoke bar after a couple more drinks, everyone needing a little more liquid courage to be able to truly give it their all in karaoke. 

Once the bills were dropped off at the table you pull your wallet out, glancing down at it before it gets whisked from your line of vision. 

“I got it,” Quinn whispers, clearly trying not to make a big deal of it. 

Reaching over you try to take the bill back from him, shaking your head. “Why? You bought my dinner the other day.”

“Because I want to.” Quinn places the bill in his other hand with his own bill. “I’m just being nice.”

“Be nice to someone else,” you giggle, glancing around the table, not remembering Quinn paying for anyone else’s bills before. 

“They’ve all had years of me being nice to them. I’m still trying to win you over,” Quinn jokes. 

“Well you’ve already won me over, but thank you.” When you look away from Quinn you catch Kayla looking at you with a look that seemed to be trying to tell you something but you weren’t sure what that was. 

After everyone’s bills have been paid you all make your way down the street to the karaoke bar. You order more drinks and watch Kayla give a very energetic performance of Since U Been Gone followed by a uniquely bad rendition of All Star from Ethan. 

You were working on your second vodka soda since getting there when Quinn leans over towards you. “You agreed to come here and you’re not even going to sing?”

Giggling you look over at him, shaking your head. “I don’t think so. I’d definitely need another drink to get up there.”

“What do you want?” Quinn asks with a mischievous smirk. 

“A tequila shot.” You really thought it was a joke, not expecting Quinn to buy you a tequila shot just minutes later, but you weren’t going to turn it down either. After the shot you convince Kayla to come up with you for a performance of Build Me Up Buttercup, a song that had never once failed to brighten your mood. 

Thank God for the tequila shot, all your inhibitions lowered significantly. Halfway through the song you notice Quinn watching you so intently and your cheeks warm a little. You and Kayla finish up your performance before returning to your seats, Kayla immediately on the hunt for the next victim she would force to get up for a song. 

“Not bad,” Quinn comments as you return to your seat beside him. 

“Not bad?” You scoff, looking at him with fake offence. “You actually seemed pretty captivated by my performance.”

You watch Quinn glance down at the ground, clearing his throat before glancing back at you. “Yeah, guess it was pretty good.”

Leaning over you playfully nudge his shoulder with yours. “You’re very tense tonight.”

“I’m not,” Quinn says quickly, his voice carrying a defensive tone. “Just not super into karaoke, I guess.”

Nodding you decide to let it go though you weren’t entirely certain that there wasn’t something else going on. “Okay,” you mutter, taking another large gulp of your drink. 

By the time you were all getting ready to head home you were a little more intoxicated than you had anticipated getting that night.

“Do you need a ride home?” Quinn asks you while you were all walking back to the parking lot next to the pub the night had started at. He hadn’t been drinking that night and it was only in that moment that you started to feel the self conscious feeling of being the drunk one around sober people. 

“If you don’t mind,” you reply sheepishly, looking up at him as you’re trying to continue walking in a straight line. 

Quinn reaches out, placing his hand on your waist and tugging you sideways with a chuckle. Looking forward you notice the fire hydrant you were rapidly approaching. “Not at all,” Quinn tells you. “I don’t know if you’d make it home on your own,” he teases. 

“I would,” you exclaim. “I’m a very responsible drunk.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sure you are,” Quinn relents. 

As you guys get back to the parking lot beside the pub the discussion of rides and Ubers begins. “Ethan is giving me a ride home, I don’t know who else he’s driving but I’m sure there’s probably room for you too, if you want.”

“Quinn is going to give me a ride,” you tell her, glancing up at him quickly, as if to check that he wasn’t going to change his mind. 

“You live in completely different directions, our place is on Ethan’s way anyway.”

“I don’t mind,” Quinn chimes in, hands shoved in his pockets as he shrugs casually. 

Kayla rolls her eyes playfully. “Of course you don’t.”

You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean and for some reason the tension those words instil make you uncertain if you should say anything. So you don’t, letting it slide. After saying goodbye to everyone Quinn leads you to where he was parked and you slide into the passengers seat, immediately noticing how nice it was. Sure, you knew it was nice simply from the outside, but you hadn’t fully grasped just how nice. 

“I don’t feel bad about you paying for my dinner anymore,” you joke as Quinn gets into the car, pulling his seatbelt on. 

“You shouldn’t anyway,” Quinn tells you, chuckling quietly as you continue to look around the car like it was one of the 7 wonders of the world. 

“You know how to get there?” 

Quinn laughs a little more at that, pulling out of the parking lot. “Yeah, we met there.”

“Oh yeah,” you giggle, remembering the dinner party at Kayla’s apartment directly across from yours. It’s not a long drive from the pub to your apartment and when you get there a part of you doesn’t want to get out and go up to to your apartment alone. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

Quinn looks over at you, not saying anything for a few seconds, like he was making a much more difficult decision than what you would have expected from your question. “Yeah, sure,” he finally answers, pulling into one of the visitor’s spots. 

The two of you head up to your apartment and when you step inside you realize that Quinn had never actually been to your place before. Looking over your shoulder you watch Quinn glance around the room, taking everything in. “Does it get your approval?” 

Quinn laughs and nods, following you towards the living room. “It’s very…you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” It sounded like the kind of thing you tell someone when you don’t want to offend them by saying you hated it. 

“It just suits you,” Quinn says with a shrug. “I like it, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh,” you say, reeling back how defensive you had gotten. Flopping down onto your couch you put on some music before looking back over at Quinn. “I feel like I haven’t said thank you enough.”

Quinn follows your lead, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “For dinner? I’m pretty sure you have.”

Shaking your head you stare down at the middle couch cushion separating you from Quinn. “No, for everything,” you say with a shrug. “I just…when I moved here it was really lonely and I thought I had made a mistake, I was considering going home. But then Kayla introduced me to you guys and everything started to feel…okay.” You were blinking quickly, trying to keep the tears that were blurring your vision from slipping onto your cheeks, but no matter how quick you were blinking you weren’t able to succeed. “Fuck, sorry, now I’m drunk crying to you, this is so embarrassing,” you say with a quiet laugh, wiping away your tears. 

Quinn moves down the couch to sit beside you, looking hesitant as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “Don’t apologize, it’s not embarrassing.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “But thank you.”

“I’m always going to be here for you,” Quinn replies, a moment of silence falling between the two of you before he adds what sounded like an afterthought. “We all are.”

Lifting your head from his shoulder you look into his eyes and you can feel Quinn shift, a nervous energy filling the room. “Do you, um, do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

After picking out a movie you curl up into the corner of the couch, resting your head on one of the many decorative pillows you had bought when you got there. Your apartment was decorated incredibly well and as much as you enjoyed it you also knew that it was the product of trying to make yourself enjoy your evenings alone in the apartment a little more. 

At some point during the movie you stop being able to keep your eyes open, with each blink your eyes were heavier and heavier, harder and harder to open them again. You’re brought back into reality by Quinn quietly saying your name. “Hmm?” You hum, sitting up slightly to look over at him, realizing you had fully fallen asleep. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how tired I was. I should have just let you go home earlier.”

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “You weren’t forcing me to stay here, I wanted to be here.”

“Okay,” you mumble, still feeling guilty for falling asleep with him there. “Are you heading home?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Quinn says, standing up from the couch and grabbing his keys and wallet. 

“Well thank you for hanging out, even though I was a terrible host.” You follow him towards the door, still feeling a sleepy haze clouding your thoughts. Before Quinn has the chance to open the door you wrap your arms around him. He responds quickly and does the same, pulling you into his body. For the first time you realize how long it had been since you had even just hugged someone like this. You weren’t exactly wanting to pull back, but you do anyway, looking up at him with a tired smile. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

Quinn nods, his eyes lingering on you for a couple seconds looking contemplative before he turns around to head out of your apartment. Once he was gone you lean against the wall in the hallway, staring a little hole in the wall that you had made the day after you moved in, trying to maneuver the couch you ordered into the apartment yourself. Sighing you glance over to your door, as if Quinn might for some reason be coming back, and if you were honest with yourself, you think you might be more than happy if he did. There was something about him, something that put you at ease, made you feel safe and comfortable. It felt different from your other friendships, not that you didn’t feel safe with them, with Quinn it was just different. 

Eventually you pull yourself away from the wall, going about your typical nightly routine before settling into bed for the night. You’re awakened the next morning by a knock on your front door, groaning in annoyance as you stumble through your apartment half asleep and a little hungover. 

“Hi?” You say, looking over at Kayla when you pull the door open. 

“Do you want to go for a run with me?”

“Not particularly, I haven’t recovered from last night.” 

“Speaking of that,” Kayla says with a mischievous grin. “What did you and Quinn get up to? Saw his car in visitor’s parking when I got back last night.”

Shrugging you shake your head. “Not a lot, tried to watch a movie and then I fell asleep.”

“So you guys didn’t…”

You stare at Kayla, waiting for her to finish her sentence before realizing what she was asking. “Hook up? No,” you exclaim, shaking your head. “Why would you think that?”

“Well,” Kayla hums, shrugging. “You know, just…I thought it might happen.”

“Why? Do you think I’m into him, because I’m not.” Your voice is defensive and your words might be lies, but you didn’t want all your new friends thinking you had feelings for Quinn so you would rather stop that rumour as soon as possible.

Kayla sighs loudly, looking around as if someone might be creeping around to listen in on the conversation. “It’s not you,” she whispers, looking shifty as she lets out another sigh. “Quinn is, like he’s really into you. I’ve never seen him so infatuated with someone before.”

You have no response to that, your heart hammering so heavily you feel like you can hear it in your ears. “What?” Is all you manage to croak out. 

“You can’t tell him I told you though, he didn’t even tell me, I was pretty sure he was into you just watching him with you but he told Ethan and Ethan told me, but I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone else. I just thought that maybe you should know.”

“Oh, okay,” you stammer, nodding nervously. “I, uh, thanks for telling me, I guess.”

“Just, can you also maybe try not to talk about other guys around him or anything like that, I’m sure he’ll get over it but for now if you could maybe-.”

“Yeah, of course,” you interrupt, nodding. You had no intentions of talking to Quinn about other guys, primarily because you hadn’t met a single person to tell him about other than himself, but there were no intentions of having that conversation. “Have a good run, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Kayla nods, making you swear again that you wouldn’t tell anyone what she had told you before disappearing down the hallway. Closing the door you let out a loud breath, your mind racing at a million miles an hour. Was that why things always felt different with Quinn? The only thing that you were certain about was that if Kayla was right then the feelings might not be one-sided. 

You wait till that afternoon before texting Quinn, sitting on the couch changing the message about ten times before sending it. ‘Hey, would you want to go for dinner some night this week?’

He answers pretty quickly, evidently not spending an agonizing amount of time re-writing his message. ‘Sure we have a couple road games this week but would Thursday be good with everyone?’

You stare at the message with a sinking feeling. Everyone. This attempt to ask him on a date hadn’t gone how you had hoped, even after the half an hour it took to ask him. ‘I was thinking maybe it could just be us’

This time you watch the typing bubble appear and disappear enough times to know he was also uncertain about what to say. ‘Yeah, sounds good. Does Thursday work for you then?’

‘Yeah, Thursday is perfect’ You breathe out a sigh of relief that he didn’t seem to find your request strange, although you were pretty sure you also had missed the mark on making him know it was a date. 

You rush home from work that Thursday, faster than you ever had before, knowing Quinn was going to be picking you up in a few short hours. You weren’t sure why your stomach was tied in knots, it’s not like it had even been established that this was a date. Getting ready takes less time than you had anticipated, the rest of the hour was spent shifting from the couch to the kitchen to the patio, anywhere really, not stay still. 

‘I’m here, do you want me to come up?’

The text sends makes your heart pound and your palms begin to sweat and you’re not sure if it’s from excitement or nerves but you ignore it either way and reply to his text. ‘No, it’s okay, I’ll be down in a minute’ 

You yank on shoes and grab your purse, almost forgetting to lock your door on the way out. In the elevator you lean against the shiny silver wall, tipping your head back and taking a deep breath. It was just Quinn. But you’re just as nervous when you get into his car as you were in the elevator. “Hey,” you say sheepishly. 

“Hey,” Quinn replies with an easy smile. “You look nice.”

“You do too,” you tell him, pulling your seatbelt on and entirely missing the wave of uncertainty that washes over Quinn’s face after your comment. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Quinn mutters, putting the car in drive and heading towards the restaurant you had suggested. “How was work today?”

“It was fine, I guess, pretty much the same as every other day.”

Quinn turns his head to look at you when he stops at a red light. “You like it though, don’t you? Like, you’re not planning to leave?”

“No, I mean, yeah, I like it,” you stammer.  “Why? Are you scared I’m going to move away?”

Quinn shrugs, chuckling quietly as the two of you continue towards the restaurant. “I don’t know, maybe a little.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, watching him for a couple seconds before looking back out the window. 

You get to the restaurant shortly after and it seems that with every step closer to the table your anxiety was rising higher and higher. Quinn seemed entirely at ease and you wanted to scream at him that this was supposed to be a date, that you were just too nervous and awkward to have clarified that before. But no matter how easy it would be to just tell him, you couldn’t do it. Because what if you told him and he told you he didn’t want it to be a date? You weren’t sure you could handle sitting through a dinner after that. 

“You okay?”

You tip your head up from where you were hyper-fixated on the menu in front of you. “Y-yeah, why?” 

Quinn shrugs, eyebrows furrowed. “You just seem, I don’t know, uncomfortable or something.”

“No, I’m fine.” You could tell your voice sounded defensive and you wish you could take it back and try to sound at least a little convincing. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

“We’ve been here for five minutes, I’ve barely looked at the menu,” Quinn chuckles. “But I think you need a drink,” he jokes. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” you giggle, glancing over as your server approaches your table. You order a glass of wine, hoping it would get to your table as quick as your server had been there to take your order. Thankfully it’s only a couple minutes before you’re sipping on a glass of pinot noir, trying not too seem too desperate to get it into your system. “Congratulations on your win yesterday, I forgot to tell you that earlier,” you say, leaning back in your chair and hoping to seem natural. 

“Oh, thanks,” Quinn replies, seeming to be taken aback by the comment. “I didn’t really think you actually paid attention to that.”

Your head tips to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “Why would you think that? I watch most of your games.”

“Really?”

Laughing softly in response to his surprise you give him a nod. “Of course, why wouldn’t it?”

“I didn’t think you cared about hockey.”

“I care about you,” you state, immediately wishing you had phrased that differently. It wasn’t that the statement wasn’t true, but the way it made your cheeks flush made you want to take it back. “And hockey is a big part of your life, so of course I’m going to care,” you add, hoping to soften the blow of the first statement.

Quinn is silent, looking down to the table then back to you then out the window you were sitting next to and then back to you. “I care about you too,” he blurts out. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his response. Perhaps he wasn’t as relaxed about this as he seemed. “I’m happy to hear that.”

“I’m getting the steak,” Quinn says, switching the subject quickly. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

“No,” you tell him, taking another sip of your wine as you gaze down at the menu. 

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “So why’d you ask me if I knew the second we sat down?”

You turn your attention back to him, rolling your eyes playfully. “Because you’re making me nervous.”

“How am I making you nervous?” Quinn laughs, the tension that had been building since you got in his car seemingly fading away. 

You bite down on your bottom lip, groaning quietly as you try to figure out what direction to take this. “Because I’m at dinner with a handsome man, why wouldn’t I be nervous?” You add a breath of laughter after, hoping to ease some of the anxiety you felt after saying that. 

Quinn clears his throat nervously. “I think I’m the one who should be nervous then.”

“And you’re not?”

“Oh, I am,” Quinn breathes out followed by a chuckle that’s tinged with an energy that makes it obvious he wasn’t lying. 

“Glad it’s mutual,” you tease, looking back down at your menu. “I’m getting the chicken caesar salad,” you inform him a minute later. 

The rest of the dinner goes by about as well as that moment. You were able to relax a bit more after another glass of wine and a shift of conversation to lighter topics. Of course when the bill comes Quinn swoops in and you can’t tell if him paying for things for you was really ever just a friendly gesture or more than that. 

You leave the restaurant and you’re only a few feet down the road when you grab Quinn’s hand. He comes to a halt, turning around with his eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up?”

You let go of his hand, taking a deep breath as you glance around, scared that if you looked into his eyes too long you would back out. “Okay, um,” you hum, taking another breath. “Tonight…this dinner, I was, I thought,” you stammer, shaking your head and letting a nervous laugh leave your lips. “I-,” you begin again before tapering off, it was as if your brain couldn’t figure out the words to explain what was going on. Shuffling closer you bring your hands to either side of his face just before leaning in and pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss before quickly pulling back. 

“Oh,” Quinn mutters, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” he adds a second later. “This was supposed to be…”

“A date,” you whisper, nervously fidgeting with a ring on your finger. 

“I’m sorry-,” 

Before Quinn can say anything else you shake your head. “Don’t be sorry, I thought you felt the same way but it’s okay.”

“What?” Quinn mumbles. “No, that’s not what I was saying. I do, I do have feelings for you. I just…I’m sorry I was such an idiot and didn’t realize what was going on.”

You wish you could hide the stupid smile that spreads on your lips but you can’t seem to contain it. “You’re not an idiot, I was just too scared to actually actually ask you, to say that it was a date.”

“Well I had fun on our first date,” Quinn laughs, shaking his head as if still in disbelief that he hadn’t figured it out. 

“Me too,” you agree, reaching over and taking his hand before continuing on your way back to his car, a sudden ease to your interactions. “Do you want to come over to my place?”

“I don’t have sex on the first date,” Quinn jokes, surprisingly at ease. 

“I doubt that,” you tease. “But I don’t either, I want you to sit on the couch while I fall asleep again.”

Quinn stops just beside his car, tugging you closer to him. Leaning back in he presses his lips to yours, this time the kiss has more intention, it lasts longer than a fleeting second and it fills your stomach with butterflies. “Only if I get to pick the movie this time,” he whispers. 

“Deal.”

It was nearing a month since you went on your first date with Quinn and you had already been on many more. He had suggested that you make the relationship official about as easily as you had informed him that your first dinner was supposed to be a date. But of course you agreed, having no interest in being with anyone other than Quinn. More and more often Quinn was spending nights at your apartment. Despite your relationship growing you had yet to tell anyone about it. Originally it was because you wanted to explore the relationship and see if it was going anywhere before telling any of your friends, not wanting to complicate things if it didn’t work out. 

Quinn had been out of town for a few days and you hated to admit how much you missed him already. But even through your texts he seemed to be able to read you, your phone ringing with the familiar FaceTime ringtone. “Hi,” you say after answering it, already tucked into bed for the night. 

“You look cozy,” Quinn comments, also already in bed though he doesn’t seem as close to calling it a night as you were. 

“I am,” you hum, giggling. “I watched your game tonight.”

“Oh…that sucks,” Quinn laughs. 

You roll your eyes in response, having had this exact conversation almost every time they lost a game. “You know it doesn’t.”

“I like that you watch my games,” Quinn admits, looking sheepish as he says it. 

“You’re cute,” you giggle, sitting up in your bed as you begin to feel yourself getting more and more tired. “What time are you getting back tomorrow?”

“Early, I think. We’re still going out to trivia with everyone tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.” You cover your mouth to try to hide your yawn but the little smirk on Quinn’s face tells you that it hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“Are you going to fall asleep on me again?”

“No, I’m not,” you whine, laughing quietly. 

“Hey, um, I don’t know if this is the right time to bring this up, but…” Quinn begins before trailing off. 

“What’s up?” You ask, voice soft as your heart begins to race, worried about what could possibly be making him seem so nervous. 

“I was thinking, maybe, we could tell people about us? Like, our friends, I mean.”

You let out a breath of relief, your heart rate slowing down. “Yeah, of course we can.”

“Okay.” Quinn’s voice is filled with an equal amount of relief and he’s smiling back at you like you just gave him the greatest news he’s heard all year. 

Glancing at the time you let out a quiet sigh. “I really should go though, busy day at work tomorrow.”

“Have a good sleep, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Quinn,” you say before ending the FaceTime, falling asleep shortly after with a feeling of contentment. 

You knew it was going to be a busy day at work but you hadn’t realized just how busy. You barely had time for even a coffee break and it was already nearing the end of the day and your to-do list still had a few items. You look up at the time in the corner of your computer, groaning as you pick up your phone to text Quinn. ‘I have to stay late, I’ll meet you at trivia’ 

‘Are you sure? I can wait and pick you up’ 

‘It’s okay, no point in you not being there the whole time just because I can’t’ 

‘Okay, I’ll see you there then’ 

Setting your phone down you get right back to work, trying to get through it as quickly as possible. By the time you’re done you’re already twenty minutes late and it’s another fifteen before you get to the pub, heading inside and quickly finding your group sitting in a booth at the back of the pub. 

“There she is,” Kayla cheers as you approach the table. “Just in time, trivia is about to start and we can’t do this without you.”

“I made it, everyone can relax,” you joke, laughing softly. As you get closer Quinn slides out of the booth, waiting for you to get closer before pulling you into a hug. “I missed you,” you whisper into his ear as you hug him back. 

“I missed you too,” he replies, not nearly as quietly as you. So he really was serious about letting everyone in on the news right away. As you pull back you look up into his eyes, hesitating for a second before leaning in to kiss him. He kisses you back as you hear mutters at the table. “That’s one way to tell them,” Quinn chuckles as he pulls back, letting you slide into the booth before you. 

“What the fuck?” Mia exclaims, eyes wide as they jolt back and forth between you and Quinn. “When did this happen and why didn’t I know about it?”

You feel Quinn’s hand fumble around under the table till he finds yours, slipping his fingers between yours. “Like a month ago,” you admit. 

“A month? Like you two have been together for a month and we didn’t know?”

“Yeah, sorta, I guess,” you stammer. “We went on a date a month ago and then didn’t want to say anything till we figured out if we even liked each other,” you joke. 

Quinn chuckles, shaking his head. “You needed to figure out if you even like me, I already knew.”

“Did you know?” Mia asks Kayla, her voice still filled with shock. 

“Yes, but not because they told me,” Kayla admits, looking over at you with a knowing smile. “Platonic friends don’t spend nearly as many nights together as they’ve been,” she explains to Mia before turning her attention to you. “Kind of upset with you two for not telling me and thinking I would be stupid enough not to put it together when Quinn’s car is in our visitor parking half the days he’s in town.”

“I’m actually very surprised you managed to keep it a secret for so long, I know you’re not great at that.”

“Hey,” Kayla exclaims, raising her hands in defence. “If I was any better at keeping secrets you two wouldn’t be together.”

“What?” Quinn chimes in, eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

You look to Kayla and she looks to you, giving a little shrug to say it was up to you if you wanted to explain it or not. “Well I didn’t just get the courage to ask you on a date out of nowhere.”

Quinn looks to Kayla, putting the pieces together in his head. “I mean, you didn’t actually get the courage to ask me on a date, you asked me to go for dinner and then just kissed me after,” he teases. 

“Whatever,” you giggle, rolling your eyes. “Wouldn’t have needed to be so complicated if you had just asked me out before that.”

“Okay, I think you two are very cute together but I’m going to throw up if you don’t stop flirting,” Mia jokes. 

“Sorry,” you laugh. “No flirting at trivia.”

“Absolutely none, we’re here to win,” Kayla chimes in just as the host begins his introductions for the night. As he explains the rules you can’t help but look over at Quinn, smiling happily up at him. And suddenly you realize just how right your decision to move to Vancouver truly was. 

[marchentraume]

Radio Omens Thoughts

General - 

First off, you can find the Radio Drama here uwuwuwu

The cast was 10/10 amazing, I love the audiobook but it was really interesting to hear how Neil and Sir Terry wanted everyone to sound before the show was even a thought. Dirk Maggs and Heather Larmour's Direction is so well done! I'm a huge fan of Hitchhiker's Guide so might try out his radio drama later...

The Them and Anathema are personal faves of the supporting cast so I’m always happy to get a new experience with those characters, Anathema’s gaydar going off the charts was perfect (“‘Angel’?” gets me good).

Just want to highlight Josie Lawrence as Agnes is perfect just like with the show, I’m so happy they didn’t change that after the radio drama, the adaptation made her so wickedly charming that I think was in the show but it goes by so fast with everything going on.

There are definitely parts in the book that are somewhat hard for me to get through, and I think the radio adaptation helped push those along a lot better. I do wish we got to hear the parts of Aziraphale spirit hopping around a bit before finding Crowley, but I just wanted to hear him talk more. Overall this is a good way to experience the book if you aren’t sure about reading it yet, or you’re like me and need help figuring out what it was I read in the first place. 

Aziraphale and Crowley -

No notes holy shit 20/10 casting, they’re only in the drama just about as much as the book which makes me sad but their scenes were absolutely burning with how flirty they were.

They are 100% already married here and comfortable with each other, the lull of their routine is only disrupted by Armageddon which is really annoying so now they have to do their jobs.

Aziraphale acting as narrator for some scenes was a good choice, blah blah something about reliable vs unreliable narrator Crowley (I just can’t put it to words right now oops).

Peter Serafinowicz your Crowley gives me so much gender it’s insane, also when he’s doing the nanny voice???? Hello????? I could have a whole chapter of him and Aziraphale during that time just chatting with each other and little Warlock.

I overall really loved the respective performances of Peter and Mark, both portrayed the two with this freedom of doubt and lots of mutual love. Crowley still wants to keep Aziraphale safe and he’s confident he can even as events get worse, the latter is stubborn knowing he’s right but confident that his demon will catch up and figure it out (even if begrudgingly so). They already have their happy ending, it can only get happier from here after they save the world.

I definitely recommend Radio Omens, it really is part of the golden triad of experiencing the story. 

My personal recommendation: Book, Show, Radio

If you have a harder time starting books (be it reading or listening) then: Show, Book, Radio

Next on my list is the audiobook with the show cast, but I’ll take a break for a bit since every time I read/watch the original story I get so worked up I need to calm down for about a month or so :’) 

What do YOU all think of radio omens? Please tell me or send me Radio Omens headcanons and opinions. I need them badly chomping at the bit here!

[hazelsmirrorball]

The Better Robin, the better lover.

Pairings: Batfam x batsis, batsis x Roy Harper

summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and the Batbros are fighting over who is most likely to get a flower arrangement.

warning: fighting, mentions of death.

a/n: And the Cupids Fourteen love stories continue. Hope you guys are enjoying the series! Lots of love

Previous imagine

Cupids fourteen Love Stories Masterlist

…

Dick Grayson walked down the stairs in the Wayne Manor heading towards the kitchen to sneak some snacks but his little trip stop when he spotted a beautiful flower arrangement neatly placed on the kitchen counter. Before he had time to pick the card of the flowers his actions where interrupted by Jason Todd entering the room.

“Don’t get near my flowers” he said emphasizing on my flowers.

“Your flowers? Who even got you flowers?” He said inspecting him up and down.

“ I have many lovers, Grayson. So they obviously sent me flowers. Now keep your dirty hands off it” Jason exclaimed, slapping his hand away.

“You can’t just assume these flowers are yours. It’s obvious that the flowers are for me, they are literally f/f, my favorite flowers. So I highly doubt that those flowers are for you. Now step aside and let me thank the person who got me those”

“Answer me this Dick, when have you had a stable relationship that your partner would send you flowers? Exactly, now move”

“Why do you find the need to offend me? I’m not the one that had commitment issues, look at yourself ” Dick said looking at Jason knowingly.

“Die and then you can judge my commitment choices” He muttered, pushing him slightly.

“I already did, asshole. That’s why I’m judging, you can’t use getting brutally murder as an excuse for everything, ” Dick said, pointing his chest several times.

“Dick, listen to what you just said because right now you’re really living up to your name” he said even louder face to face to him slapping his hand away.

“My names not Dick you ass. It’s Richard so joke on you” he said pushing him back. Both of them started pushing each other back and forth each time being harder.

“Oh! They look beautiful” Tim Drake said entering the frame and pushing past his brothers to look at the flowers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jason and Dick said at the same time looking down at their brother. Tim turned around to them, glaring at them.

“Please, Jason. I don’t want to get personal but you never leave this house and if you do, it’s for your vigilante bullshit so they wouldn’t know you live here and you, none of your situation ships are giving you such expensive flowers so move and keep on walking” Tim said smelling the flowers leaving two angry guys to stare him down.

“I’m sorry that you are so in love with your little boyfriend. But you literally couldn’t say it better, they are too expensive for you boyfriend to buy it” Dick responded.

“Are you trying to assume my boyfriend is poor?” Tim said, turning towards him.

“You said it not us” Jason responded, making Tim yell at him. The three of them yelled at each other making a huge ruckus. Bruce passed by watching them fight which made him quickly turn around back to his room. A few minutes later Roy Harper walked into the kitchen standing near the three boys.

“Guys?” Roy said but none of them answered after a few minutes of trying to get their attention.

“What!” The three of the yelled at Roy.

“Why are you guys fighting right now?” Roy asked separating them.

“We are trying to figure out who got us these flowers” Dick responded agitated, looking at him.

“Oh, that’s what this is about? Easy, I got the flowers” Roy responded with a shrug.

“See! I told you guys it was mine! Thank you so much Roy” Jason responded, giving him a side hug.

“You’re welcome? But just so you know this isn’t for you” Roy responded confused.

“What?!” Jason exclaimed, pushing Roy out of the hug.

“Ha! I knew you would eventually come through” Dick said, hugging Roy.

“It wasn’t for you either, Dick” he muttered.

“You disappoint me, Harper” Dick said, letting him go.

“I’m flattered Roy” Tim said walking towards him to walk him but before he did Roy spoke.

“Guys, it’s not for any of you guys. Did you even read the card?” Roy asked, looking at the trio. All three of them shook their heads, not making Roy roll his eyes.

“Well for who isn’t then?” Tim asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, hi Roy!! I just wanted to thank you for the gifts” Y/n said walking in with chocolate covered strawberries in her hand.

“Y/n?!?” The trio exclaimed looking between the pair. Roy quickly blushed covering his face.

“What?” She asked, confused taking a bite of the chocolate covered strawberries.

“The flower arrangements are for you?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The flowers, the chocolate covered strawberries and the plushies are for me, why?” She said looking at her brothers.

“I just can’t believe you and him or even better, you with anyone” Tim said looking at the flowers.

“What can I say, I got the romantic genes in our family” She said winking at them.

“You did not” Jason glared at her.

“I’m the only one that got a gift, so..” she said with a laugh making them roll their eyes.

“Just wait until you read the card” Roy responded with a small smirk. The three of them leaned into the flowers picking out the card reading the little note. All three of them angrily gasped at what they read.

“To the better Robin! That’s just insulting”

request are open, xoxo.

[Masterlist]

[brokenpieces-72]

Promises

Navigation

Price comes back to the safe house and finds you on the couch. Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were all with Alejandro and Rudolfo, enjoying a night at his pub. You stayed behind to look after the kittens and work on some sketches for Farah’s commission.

John hangs his jacket and sees you curled up on the couch with your sketchbook, the kittens and a blanket and pillow. The kittens are asleep with their little bed box next to the couch. Your sketchbook is wide open on your lap. The open book shows some rough sketches of Milena as a caricature.

John doesn’t turn on a light, only stares for a moment before realizing it’s a little creepy. He goes to his own bed room to get changed into something more comfortable. There he thinks for a moment. You chose to come here, to stay with them. There were other options but you never asked if there were. He thinks about the night your father was killed.

John had called your father that night saying he’d found a huge lead on Makarov. One that would put him away, and where the warehouse was to find it. Makarov was ready though. It was planted for John to find it. Your father and Graves had arrived with your father going in. When Graves followed that was when it fell apart. John was there and Graves saw him, starting to question everything. Your father had already explained what he’d been doing but Graves realized too late that the chief commissioner was involved. John didn’t have the chance to pull his own before Makarov was able to run away, only getting him in the back of the shoulder. He focused on your father as did Graves. Soon enough more sirens could be heard.

“Run.” Graves had said. “If they see you it will make it worse.”

“Not fucking leaving hi-“ John tried to protest, not about to leave his friend behind.

Graves stood up and aimed his gun at Price.

“Back off… run or you won’t be able to do shit.” After that Graves started yelling and firing towards John, telling him to leave his partner alone. It pegged Price as some awful killer, accused of your father’s murder but never proven.

The day of your father’s funeral he’d been there to see you standing next to Graves. He’d wanted to offer his condolences, to explain what had happened. As soon as Graves saw the vehicle though he scooped you up and took you home.

A couple nights later, Graves was confronted again. He insisted you were safe and would be safe by staying in the force and keeping your head down. Johnny gave him a couple of punches for his word choices though. At the time, Price figured that would be for the best. You were on the side of the law, and as twisted as it may be, you would be out of harm's way.

When Soap had come to him about you though, that had thrown him for a loop. None of them knew what to expect. Graves was slowly playing along for some reason, but they figured he was just keeping an eye on you at first. Then Johnny came in and told Price the reality, which they had expected.

Graves was willing to help, it was why he’d told Price about the delayed shipment.

“I am trying to make it right.” Graves exclaimed to him.

“Done a bang up job of it haven’t ya?” Price commented. “The smartest decision you’ve made is to leave them alone.”

“Damn right.” Graves admitted. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Doubt it will be from you.” Price said before Graves left. Your idea to ask Graves for help had risk, possibly bringing the police too close to the action. Makarov would be keeping a close eye on Graves since Graves knew what happened. Alex was still an option. Price shakes his head trying to forget work and wanting to properly relax for a moment.

Price finishes changing and gets back out to the living room. Youmre still sleeping and he smiles. There’s a distant memory of him meeting you and your mother some time ago. Now you were getting caught up in gangs and fights.

Price takes your sketchbook from your lap, and bookmarks it with your pencil. He sets it aside. Then he takes the blanket from the couch and lays it over you.

Sometime before the night your father passed he was sitting and playing pool with the rest of them, showing off a couple of photos of you. You were pretty cute back then.

“Beautiful kid.” Price commented.

“Must get it from their mum.” Johnny said teasingly.

“Speaking of…” your father said, staring at your photo. “I need a favour. Long term.”

“Go on.” Price said after the room went quiet.

“Take care of them… if anything happens I want them to be safe.” Your father said. “Graves has offered to look after them and he’s my partner sure, but keep an eye on them for me. If they end up anything like me, they'll be in just as much trouble.”

They were all in agreement.

John looks down at your sleeping face. “Keeping more than just an eye on you now aren’t we sunshine?” Price says. You shift a little in your sleep, causing your hoodie sleeve to roll up. Even in the dim light, John can see a mark on your wrist. How long had it been there? He thinks back to when you went for a walk one night, to clear your head. After that, you always wear a long-sleeved shirt or a hoodie. No one questioned it since it was cold outside the safe house was usually a little chilly.

His mind wanders thinking of what could have happened, and why you didn’t say anything. He recalls you mentioning Nolan spotting you at the diner. If anyone were to get hostages from the streets it would be him. Nolan isn’t a small guy. John tries picturing you and the many ways you could have gotten away. The implications worry him. Nolan is Makarov’s attack dog, and if Makarov knows who you are he might exploit what he can. He knows you can handle yourself but he still worries. John's concerns go for everyone he works with, everyone he considers a friend. Part of the reason he opened the pub was for a cover, for when his boys couldn't fight anymore. Some sense of normalcy. Johnny had been pretty young when Price took him under his wing, with you being younger.

You shift more in your sleep, and the bruise on your wrist is more clear. Staring at the bruise, Price wonders if it was a good idea, to drag you into this mess.

Graves is called into the chief commissioners office and when he stands there looking at Vladimir Markarov he wants nothing more than to walk out.

“You need something sir?” He asks.

“Where is your partner?” Makarov asks. Graves shrugs.

“As I said… single. Why you asking me out?” Graves asks with a cocky smile.

“That act only works so well Graves. Where is officer l/n?”

“They’re not an officer anymore, so unless they’ve committed a crime, not sure I can answer that. Unless you’re referring to the late officer l/n.” Graves says, maintaining his smile but just barely. “We both know you aren’t.”

Makarov stares down Graves for a moment before opening his desk drawer and removing a file from his desk. A case file.

“Officer would you like to explain why so little has been done in this case despite multiple weeks going by almost months with little to no information? A case you’ve been working on undercover?”

Graves smile is gone as he presses his lips.

“Sorry sir. Been losing my touch in my old age.”

“And Officer l/n hasn’t picked up any of your obvious slack? Come now Graves we both know what’s going on.” Makarov says. Graves has half a mind to deck Makarov right then and there. It’s baiting, he knows it. Then again, Makarov could offer him some things.

“Officer l/n was still a rookie. Got into a nasty dust up, they decided it was too much, so they’re pursuing other interests.” Graves explains.

“Such as?” Makarov asks leaning back, with a pleased look. Graves thinks for a moment, as if recalling what you said you wanted to do.

“Rock climbing,” Graves says, a smile on his face. Makarov looks less pleased.

"Rock climbing?" Makarov says, looking a little annoyed.

"That's what they said. Maybe it was pole dancing." Graves says, shrugging.

“Graves you are bordering on insubordination.”

“I’m not sir. And if I am… well… maybe I’ll run off and return out of nowhere to my old spot if I need to. Hopefully, it’ll be kept warm for me.” Graves says staring Makarov in the eyes.

“Watch your step. Careful you don’t trip over your own bullshit.” Makarov says. “Dismissed.”

Graves leaves his office and packs up his stuff for the day stepping out of the station. He doesn’t go home.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @smitten-haematite-quartz

[bullet-prooflove]

Let the rain come pouring down I’m not afraid to drown

Tagging: @kmc1989 @alixw22x @vintagedaydreams @madisonbroxson1 @shira666 @zealouslibrariesparadiselight @lovethis-lovethat @foxfables

Companion piece to:

Wild Bloom - Jamie buys flowers on the anniversary of Lee’s death.

Palm Sunday - Jamie needs help with one of his plants.

Prequel to:

Everything (NSFW) - Jamie wants everything with you

You don’t carry an umbrella. It’s a concept that’s completely alien to Jamie, because he’s always prepared no matter what the weather. It’s a product of his upbringing, a message that was instilled into him from an early age by his father.

Plan for everything, that way you can never be surprised.

“Sometimes it’s nice to enjoy the moment, feel the rain on your face.” You had said to him when he took you out for dinner last night. “Good things can come of being spontaneous.”

He thinks about your words the next day as he’s leaving the office. The town is experiencing a downpour and he’s watching the droplets as they bounce off the sidewalk.

He should have kissed you last night. He’d wanted to but he’d gotten in his own head, started to doubt himself. He’d tucked his hands into his pockets instead and wished you goodnight. You were disappointed he could tell but it was already too late to walk it back.

Sometimes it’s about taking a leap of faith, he recalls Lee telling him when he’d come to Jamie for help with a marriage licence.

Jamie hadn’t been able to understand it at the time because Anna-May had barely been back in his brother’s life more than a couple of days and suddenly Lee was making this huge monumental choice. He thinks he’s starting to get it now because Lee was right when you know, you know and sometimes you just have to take a chance.

Your flower shop is only a couple of minutes down the street and for the first time in his life Jamie tosses caution to the wind and leaves his umbrella behind. He steps out into the rain, letting it immerse him as he begins the walk. There’s something cleansing about the sensation, it washes away his doubts he tilts his head up towards the clouds.

It’s gone past five by the time he reaches the building. The closed sign is hanging in the window but the lights are still on and he can see your shape through the water speckled glass as you tidy your way around the shop. He raps his knuckles lightly on the door and when you open it, it feels like a way of sunshine lighting up his entire world. You’re wearing a yellow summer dress, embroidered with tiny white daisies, a white cardigan draped over your shoulders to ward off the chill as the weather changed throughout the day.

“Jamie.” You say as you open the door to let him inside. “What are you doing here?”

“Something I should have done last night.” He tells you before his mouth covers yours and you’re drowning in the sensation of him, the heat of his body, the rush of passion that ignites in your veins as he kisses you.

The door clicks shut behind him as he pulls away, his damp hair falling across his forehead as he cradles your face between his hands.

“Do it again.” You whisper as he looks into your eyes. “Kiss me again.”

Love Jamie? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[robby-bobby-tommy]

I was too tired to stay on Philza's stream... But I am winning, ok?

Fitza staying as strong as ever.

I'll talk a bit about purgatory, since I didn't have time while it was happening.

During the purgatory, we all were thinking that Wallflower duo was dying, cuz they both hunt each other down, but in reality they only got stronger! They are one of the few duos who could kill each other and still stay besties for life. Closer to the end of the Purgatory, they met up and threw a dice together, laughing and joking. Even hugging!! They were in different teams, yet they still hugged and respected each other so much. The Eye B_tch tried to break Fitza up, but their not so platonic duo was stronger than that.

I think it's a stretch, but I felt very warm, when Phil woke up and called for Fit first. I dunno why, but they are very dear to me. Fit is Phil's closest friend and vice versa. So Phil waking up and seeking Fit is so sweet.

And now to yesterday's stream. I didn't watched it all, but I've had enough moments to speak of. Firstly, Fit greeting Philza right when the latter logged in, as they did wayy back, in the first few months of qsmp. Then Phil shows his crows his wings for the first time, which was already huge af. But then he trusted Fit enough to show them to him. And in reality, Phil just showed his greatest vulnerability and insecurity to this specific person, and if it's not the biggest gesture of trust I don't know what is. After Purgatory, they both were supposed to be colder to and be wary of each other, but no. They still confide in each other, being the most honest they can. Fit even apologized. And when Dadza called himself a dumbass, Fit quickly said he isn't one. I love them.

And then Phil and Fit spent a lot of time together, as they did before. Walking, talking, cleaning the server for their kids, joking about each other's d_c-. They're calm around each other, cuz they've known each other for years. I think it's a stretch once again, but I feel that Phil would show his wings to Fit first even if he had a choice.

And again, if we're going back more, when Phil saw the picture of the skull and called for Fit, the latter came almost immediately. After Crow started saying "stupid... Stupid bird brain" 2b2t veteran informed that he believed in existence of skull picture. War criminal sees that dadza starts to doubt in himself, so he reassures him and lets him join him and Pac in the dungeon. Putting friends before roommates (they are so gay, why is Fit in denial... No matter how jacked he is he can't beat Fitpac allegations).

They rotate in my head every second of the day. Their friendship is stronger than anything. If the world came crushing down, they're gonna be together. If one's in trouble the other is already planning the rescue mission. They know each other for a long time, they know how ruthless they can be, but they aren't afraid. They're here for each other. They put their trust in each other, giving each other access to private chambers (Fit's secret bedroom and kid's basement). They're prepared to break the rules, put oneself on the line for the other's sake. They even share illegal stuff with each other. Fit is bullets for Philza's gun. The best duo ever.

[roseofdarknessblog]

Where it all began (Postwar!Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 3 723

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

Summary: Ten years after the Rumbling, you and Levi return to Paradis, to show your daughter the land you fought so hard for.

This story can be read on its own or as a part of my little post-war series: Learn to live again

Where it all began

„Maybe this wasn't such a good idea,“ Levi said quietly as soon as you disembarked on Paradis. After almost ten years, you were back. On the island, where both your and Levi's life began, where you met, and where you never came back after the Rumbling.

„It's only for two days, darling. We'll be home tomorrow evening,“ you said and kissed the top of his head, looking around the port.

Many things changed since the day you left. You were barely able to recognize this place. Memories of your last battle against the Yeagerists made shivers run down your back. Everything that led up to it, everything that happened after. Falco's first transformation into the Jaw Titan, your arrival to Odiha, Hange's sacrifice, the final battle against Eren...

Coming back felt very strange. Both of you were anxious and full of doubts. Was this truly a good idea? Returning here after so much time? Maybe you should have stayed home, in the little seaside town where you settled down and opened Levi's tea shop. There it was safe. It felt like it. As years passed, that place truly started to feel like home to you.

But here...

„Ugh, finally. I almost puked myself on that stupid boat.“ Both you and Levi looked over at the six-year-old raven-haired girl by his side. Her blue-grey eyes scanned your surroundings quickly before she looked at Levi. „I thought you said sailing is going to be fun, dad.“

You smiled upon hearing her complaints and reached out to stroke her silky hair. It was just like Levi's, although his lately started to turn grey here and there. To him, it was annoying. To you, it became one of his most irresistible features.

„I said it because I didn't want you to worry,“ Levi explained and handed her the little yellow sketchbook she loved carrying around. Until now, he kept it on his lap to have it on hand anytime.

„Too bad, now I don't want to go home by boat.“

„Well, you can always swim,“ you joked.

Little Zoe, who you and Levi named after Hange, gave you an annoyed look and kept on walking. Sometimes, she truly was a carbon copy of her father in every way. From her appearance to her personality. Even if she was only six years old, she already had a huge personality of her own.

„Is it too late to turn back?“

„Levi... it will be fine. We promised her this trip.“ You got hold of his wheelchair once again and followed your daughter, who kept looking around, taking in all the little details.

It was mainly because of her, that you came back to Paradis for a short visit. Even if you and Levi didn't often talk about your past in front of her, other people did. Mainly Jean and Connie, who told her many stories about Paradis and how it once looked. But, of course, they always left out the most gruesome details. So in the end, little Zoe saw this place as an almost ordinary island. Like a place for a little family trip.

Queen Historia knew you and Levi were coming, you let her know in advance. But it didn't seem she wanted to meet you after so many years. And that was more than okay. It was her personal choice. After all, you didn't really come to reconnect with anyone.

„Mikasa!“ your daughter screamed excitedly when she saw her waiting for all of you. But as Zoe was running up to her, somebody suddenly leaped out from behind one of the buildings and grabbed her around the waist. Her little sketchbook fell to the ground as the blond man lifted her up and spun her around, while your daughter screamed out.

Both Zoe and Armin, who you truly didn't expect to be there, were laughing loudly while you and Levi came up to them. Mikasa picked up the girl's sketchbook and held it for her until she was hugging Armin.

„Captain, Y/N... so you really made it,“ Armin said, greeting you both.

You nodded, putting one of your hands on Levi's shoulder squeezing it reassuringly and reminding him, that you're here with him. „We did, yeah. But what are you doing here?“

„Mikasa told me you were coming so I took a little trip, too. But it's just me, Annie's home. She still doesn't like coming here.“

„Don't worry, we understand,“ you assured him with a warm smile.

After you all greeted each other, you followed Armin and Mikasa, talking and simply having a good time. You and Levi still felt a little uneasy, while you were walking through the streets of Shiganshina. The town felt more than foreign to you both. Almost nothing looked the same, not even the people. And for sure, not the military personnel you met here and there.

But there was a bright side to it all, too. Hearing people talk and children laugh, while they were running around, made you smile. Everything looked lively and colorful. You could actually feel all the life pulsing through the streets. Never before did this place make you feel this way. Almost as if nothing ever happened here.

While Zoe was walking between Mikasa and Armin, holding hands with both of them, you kept a few steps behind them. You could see how tensed up Levi's shoulders were. To be honest, you didn't see him like this for a very long time. It almost seemed as if he was expecting something to happen. Just like during old times.

„If I didn't know where we were, I would never say this is Paradis,“ you said after a while in a hushed voice, so only he was able to hear you. „A lot has changed during only ten years.“

Levi nodded without a word, keeping his eyes on your daughter's back. Even if he wasn't like his old self, like the people of this island used to know him, his instincts stayed just as sharp. If needed, he would give his absolute everything to protect his family – you and the little girl both of you loved more than life itself. She was the purest light in your lives and the biggest source of your happiness.

„It feels weirder than I thought it would.“

„In a good or in a bad way?“ you asked him, noticing a little shop you remembered from way back when you were still in the Survey Corps. It was a bakery where you loved getting many different sweet goods. Honestly, it was a miracle that it was still here. „Do you remember this place? I used to buy those little apple pies here. Those you loved eating with your afternoon tea.“

To your surprise, he chuckled. „I could never forget those. But now you make much better ones.“

„After so many years of trying...“ you laughed.

Learning how to cook and bake after the war was one of the hardest things you've ever done. For some reason, you simply couldn't get the hang of it. If it wasn't for Onyankopon and his patience, you would have given up a long time ago. Only thanks to him, you were now able to supply Levi's tea shop with many delicious sweet and savory treats.

You could see a couple of people who seemed to recognize you. Some of them nodded their heads to say a quiet hello, but that was it. Nobody came up to you to have a chat. Thankfully. Not you or Levi felt like talking to anyone. You didn't want them asking any questions. After all, you didn't owe anyone anything. The way you decided to live your life after the war was solely your own personal choice. And it seemed, that not coming back here was the right thing to do. Even if it felt very difficult at the beginning, settling down in the outside world was the wisest choice in the long run.

„Do you want to visit Erwin and Sasha's grave as well?“ Levi asked you, looking over his shoulder. At first, you didn't react. But then you gave a simple nod.

„I can go alone if you don't feel like coming along. You and Zoe can wait for me somewhere,“ you assured him, not wanting to pressure him into anything. Coming here was challenging enough. „I won't be long.“

He quietly shook his head, not voicing his thoughts out loud. So you let him think about it in silence, following Mikasa, Armin, and your daughter to your first and most important stop.

After a short while, you made it to a place, which truly scared you for some reason. It was the tree, under which Eren's remains were buried. A small simple tombstone was set into the ground just by the trunk. For whatever reason, it was suddenly way harder to breathe.

„Long time no see, Eren,“ Levi said, his voice way colder than just a few minutes before. You knew that even after so many years, he sometimes thought about all the things he and Eren never got the chance to discuss.

„I wish this meeting could have looked different,“ you got out with a heavy sigh, taking the small bouquet of white lilies from Levi's lap which you got from a flower shop along the way. But actually going up to the tombstone, reading his name carved into the cold stone... „I'm sorry it had to end like this.“ Closing your eyes to breathe through your emotions, you left the lilies resting against the stone and walked back to Levi and Zoe, who also came to stand next to her father. The little detail of them holding hands made you feel a little better.

A few tears pooled in your eyes when you looked over at Mikasa and Armin. Seeing just the two of them, without Eren by their side felt so strange and painful. Since you got to know them, they were always together. Always the three of them – Mikasa and Armin doing everything to protect Eren and help him, when he needed it the most. Your heart hurt for them in a way you weren't even able to express through words. It was a pain you tried to bury deep down in your heart and soul, for the past ten years. But now, it all came to the surface, threatening to suffocate you and make you break down in tears over how everything turned out.

„It's a shame we didn't get to meet,“ Zoe said suddenly shocking all four of you. Mikasa was probably the most surprised one. „Jean and Connie sometimes tell me funny stories about you.“ She was looking at the tombstone, almost as if she was talking directly to Eren.

To her, Eren wasn't a monster like the rest of the world saw him. You all spared her the horrible details that led up to his death. It was much better to do it like that. She was still too little and innocent to know the truth. Later, you'll slowly start explaining everything to her. But until then, it was much better to let her believe, that the world wasn't such an ugly place.

For a while, you all stayed quiet and just watched the white lilies. Nobody knew what to say, what or how to feel. Not even Mikasa and Armin, who surely spent a lot of time here. Zoe was the first one to break the grim atmosphere. She took her little sketchbook from Levi, sat down under the tree, and started sketching the view you had over the little town underneath the hill.

„How's it going? Do you like the view?“ you asked after a few minutes and sat down beside your daughter. Levi was talking with Mikasa and Armin, so you decided to let them be.

„Yeah, it's very nice here. I loved how the town looked, everything was so colorful. The people looked happy,“ she said excitedly, showing you her drawing proudly. It looked just like a creation of a six-year-old. „But those men from the military seemed scary.“

On your way up here, you met a group of men from the military. All they did, was patroling around the town, making sure everything was in order. However, they made you feel a bit uneasy. Their new uniforms, the way they carried a gun with them... It wasn't comparable to the times when you casually met members of the Garrison or the Military Police in the streets. Or maybe it was just because you were here as an ordinary civilian, not a member of the military like during old times.

„You don't have to fear them, darling. They're not going to hurt you.“

„Did you and dad wear uniforms like them?“

You shook your head, running your fingers along her braided hair. „Not entirely, but they were a little similar.“ Going into details wasn't necessary, so you simply smiled at her and stroked her cheek.

„I can't really imagine this whole place with those huge Walls you told me about. Didn't everything seem... uhm...“

„Suffocating? Cramped? Restricting?“ Zoe nodded, closing her sketchbook and leaving her pencil inside, to mark the page where she was drawing. „It did, but... we didn't know anything else. Not really. You see... when we as the Scouting Legion went out beyond the Walls, we had our duty. We had work to do, so we never really had time to just stop and admire how different everything seemed. How big and free the world there was.“

Zoe knew about the Titans – briefly, but she did. She knew they were the reason why you and Levi lived behind the Walls before the final war. For her, it was only natural to wonder, what a life like that must have felt like. She never had to experience such a thing. No, she was free to go wherever she wanted. Basically, there were no limits to her curiosity. No man-eating monsters, that would hunt her down if she wasn't careful enough.

„Me and your dad... we were more than grateful for what we had up here. The place where we grew up was much, much worse than living behind the Walls.“

She didn't know nearly anything about the Underground, where both you and Levi grew up. There was simply no way to explain it to her. So all she knew, was the bare minimum – about a poor city under the shiny new capital of Paradis. There wasn't anything nice to be said about that place.

While Zoe kept asking you more questions, you looked over your shoulder at Levi, Armin, and Mikasa. They were still quietly talking, not paying attention to you and Zoe. You wanted to grant them privacy, so you kept the little girl busy for as long as possible.

From time to time, you looked over at Eren's tombstone. For some reason, you kept wondering what would you say to Eren, if he was here. If the war ended differently and you had the chance to talk to him about everything that happened. Even after so many years, you wished that you could have done something more. Anything to bring him back from the darkness that took him away from his friends.

What got you away from your own memories, was when Mikasa and Armin called for Zoe. The little girl didn't hesitate, she jumped up and ran to them, excitedly asking what are they going to do. As you watched them, Levi slowly wheeled himself next to you.

With a tiny smile, you moved a bit closer and still sitting in the grass, you leaned your head against his leg. The fingers of his left hand slipped into your hair, rubbing your scalp just the way you liked it. And just the way Zoe used to like when she was a baby. Many times, when she was crying or fussing, Levi used to soothe her this way.

„Did she have many questions?“ Levi asked after a moment of silence between the two of you.

„Quite a few, yeah. I guess she couldn't really grasp the reality of our lives behind the Walls. She said it looks much prettier now, without them,“ you chuckled and looked up at Levi. Up here, where nobody was around, he seemed a bit calmer. And you did too. Being away from the prying eyes of the islanders felt liberating in the strangest way possible. „I'm not sure if coming here was the right call, but at least we did what we promised her.“

Levi nodded, still playing with your hair. „Let's hope that this one visit will be enough for her. Not that there are many places we could visit without seeing those fools in uniforms. I don't want to see them around you or Zoe, we had enough of that life. What's going on here, is not our business anymore.“

„It's not, we fought and sacrificed enough,“ you agreed, taking Levi's hand out of your hair and interlocking your fingers. To some, it may have sounded selfish. But to you, those were valid reasons. After everything that happened, you and Levi deserved to live out the rest of your lives in peace.

As the ship kept moving forward and Paradis was becoming smaller and smaller on the horizon, tears started to pool in your eyes. Leaving once again was heartbreaking. It made you feel so many different emotions all at once. While Mikasa and Armin stayed there, you, Levi, and Zoe were headed back home.

You stayed the night over at Mikasa's place and headed to the graveyard first thing in the morning. While she and Armin stayed with Zoe, you and Levi went to find the graves of your long-lost friends. Before that, you got more white lilies, because you didn't want to come empty-handed. For almost an hour, you just walked around in the company of your memories, looking for many familiar names.

„She's out cold.“ Levi smirked and kissed the top of Zoe's head, who was cuddled up in his lap. One of his arms was protectively wrapped around her, while she was resting her head against his chest. In her sleep, she was hugging the little yellow sketchbook as if it was he favorite stuffed animal. 

„Makes me wonder how she spent the night.“

„I heard her talking with Armin until early in the morning. About stars, marine life, and such nerdy things.“ With a smile, you took off your cardigan and covered your daughter with it, since the breeze was a little cold on the ship's deck. „He was telling her about how he imagined the world outside the Walls when he was her age.“

After all... maybe this trip wasn't such a horrible idea. Your daughter had a good time, she saw Mikasa and Armin, and she was finally able to see the land you and Levi fought so hard to protect. She got the chance to see where it all began. The big love story of her parents. And also all the tales and stories Jean, Connie, and the others kept telling her.

„She seemed happy,“ you said in a loving tone, stroking your daughter's hair. She looked so lovely when she was asleep. Just like her father, when he was peacefully resting in your arms during long nights.

„But I guess we didn't.“

„No, but... did you expect anything else? For us, this wasn't an exciting trip to a seemingly perfect island. It was more of a walk down the memory lane. With not-so-happy memories,“ you said, bending down to give Levi a kiss. „But in a way, we both needed this.“

„Yeah, to remember never to come here again,“ Levi scoffed.

„Why? I liked the island, it was very pretty,“ Zoe suddenly said in a sleepy voice, her eyes still half-closed. „Do you miss the way it looked in the past?“ she asked, blinking a few times and looking up at both you and Levi.

„Yes,“ Levi said. Your right hand came to rest on his shoulder, while you waited for what he was going to say to the little girl next. „I don't miss the Titans at all, but I sometimes do miss the old times, when we lived behind the Walls.“

„Why, dad?“

Stroking her hair, his lips pressed a loving kiss to Zoe's forehead, before he looked over at you. „Because I miss the people who lived there with us. Many of them are not here anymore, and seeing Paradis without the Walls just reminded me of how many years since their deaths passed.“ He said it more than perfectly, describing just what you felt as well.

„Life was hard back then, just like we've always told you when you asked about our past. But every day was a little brighter thanks to our friends and comrades,“ you said, kissing the top of Levi's head.

„But you always say they're looking after us from there,“ Zoe said and pointed at the sky, which was slowly starting to catch warm shades of yellow and orange from the setting sun. „Hange and Erwin, and Sasha, and Furlan with Isabel.“

„They are, of course, they are,“ you assured her in a loving tone and looked up at the sky with your daughter in a foolish attempt to spot your long-lost friends smiling down at your little family.

„We just sometimes wish they could be here with us in person,“ Levi added in a calm tone and also looked up, hugging Zoe a little tighter. „Look, you can see a couple of stars already.“ As he pointed to the sky to distract her, your little girl smiled excitedly and started telling him a bunch of new things about the night sky she probably heard from Armin last night.

While Levi was listening to her every word, he glanced over at you. Into your eyes, which were full of tears. Tears of happiness over the fact, that this was how your life turned out and that Levi with Zoe were your beloved family. Through all the pain you had to endure in the past, you were more than grateful, that in the end, you had everything you ever wanted and dreamed about – a happy family with the love of your life, living in a safe world.

[cfierce116]

I Want You Around

A/N: Sooooooooo I haven't done this in a verrryyyyyy loooonnnnggggg tiiiimmmmmeeeee. Writer's block/real life circumstances/and self doubt is a bitch. But a burst of inspiration hit me out of nowhere and this is what I came up with. Let's see where this goes. S/O to @lisayourworries for staying on my ass & @krysxtotheo for the constant thirst chats about The Bloodline.

*Pairings: Solo Sikoa/OC (black fem)

*Warnings: 18+, hint of smut but not too much.....for now

*Word Count: Approximately 1900 words

************************************************************************“Krys you awake?”

“No.”

Chocolate brown eyes rolled as a soft giggle filled the room. The woman laying next to the muscular body turned to face her bed companion, resting her head on top of her arm. Her gaze landed on the side profile of her boyfriend’s face, his expression unchanging. 

“I’ve been thinking.”

“That can’t be good,” Krys joked with a small smile. She reached out and placed her index finger on his cheek, turning his face towards hers. “What’s on your mind Sefa?”

“Us.” 

“Us?” Krys asked with a raise of her perfectly arched brow. “What about us?” 

Silence filled the room as Sefa studied the woman’s face, his eyes unreadable. Krys felt her palms start to perspire despite being completely nude under the lightweight bed sheet, the air conditioner nestled in the window rumbling lowly above the bed her and Sefa laid in. Despite being in a relationship with one another for a little over a year, most times Sefa was a puzzle that Krys couldn’t solve. He mostly kept to himself not allowing many people to penetrate the hardened exterior that he constructed to conceal his innermost thoughts and emotions.

Krys, however, was different. 

From the moment he laid eyes on her on his first day at NXT as she prepared to take his introductory photo after he joined the company he was enamored with her. From her infectious giggle to the way her light brown eyes sparkled when she watched him ringside performing as she snapped pictures to the way her body melted under his firm but loving touch whenever they made love, Krys had managed to do the one thing that no other woman before her could do.  

She turned him into a pile of mush.

That could be the only explanation as to why he was even considering this proposition. His brain was screaming at him that he was taking a huge risk and to slow down. There was no need to make such a hasty decision at this stage of their relationship. They needed more time to get to know one another to strengthen their bond. Things were great the way they were currently going. So why change what wasn’t broken? 

However, despite all of the valid reasons his brain created he couldn’t ignore his gut telling him he was making the right choice. 

Sefa parted his lips to speak before Krys’s shaky exhale interrupted his thoughts. She fully sat up in the bed, using the sheet as a temporary shield to hide her breasts that were decorated with of a spattering of Sefa’s teeth marks. 

“Sefa, I already know what you’re going to say.” 

“You do?”

Krys nodded and ran a hand through her curly blondish brown hair, pushing it away from her face. “Yeah. You’re gonna say that you care about me but you need to focus on your career now. You just got called up to the main roster and that requires a lot of focus and you can’t handle being distracted with a semi long distance relationship while I still work down at NXT.” 

“Krys-"

“And I get it. This has been a dream of yours before we even knew one another. So it hurts but I completely understand it.” 

“But-“ 

“You’re a great guy and I want the best for you.  I truly mean that. Even if it means we have to break up.” 

Sefa’s head jerked towards Krys, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Break up? You think I want to break-"

“I really should get going,” Krys interrupted as she swung her legs out of the bed, her foot touching the hardwood floor to look for her slipper. Before her other foot could do the same, Sefa’s large hand darted out and gently grabbed her wrist and halting her movements. Krys shivered at his touch, a chill running the length of her body and making her nipples harden instantly. 

“Move in with me.” 

Krys’s lips parted slightly as her eyes widened before darting to look at Sefa who was staring intently at her.

“What?”

“I don’t wanna break up with you Krystle. I want you to move in with me.” 

The couple held each other’s stare waiting for the other one to speak. Krys cracked first, clearing her throat softly. “Wow I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s just…I mean we’re…well…honestly Sefa I didn’t think that was an option,” she admitted softly. Her gaze fell to her lap and she shrugged. “You just don’t seem like the type that would want a woman living with you and being around 24/7. You’re kinda of a loner.”

A soft chuckle fell from Sefa’s full lips. “True.” 

“And things are going really well between us. Sure the new adjustment of you being on the road weekly is a new challenge but besides that we’re pretty solid.” 

“Is that so? Well why did you automatically assume I wanted to break up with you a few minutes ago?” Sefa asked as he folded his arms across his chest. 

Krys shrugged. “I mean if your boyfriend tells you that they’ve been thinking about your relationship late at night it typically aren’t good thoughts.” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “So you don’t want to break up with me?”

“I love you Krys why would I want to break up with you?” 

Sefa watched as relief flushed over Krys’s face, another small exhale slipping from her lips at his admission.  She slipped out from underneath the sheets and started to pace back and forth in front of the bed. His eyes couldn’t help but study the naked frame in front of him, her full breasts bouncing slightly with every step she took as her hips swayed from side to side. He subconsciously bit his bottom lip as his eyes landed on her supple ass, the moonlight streaming into his room accentuating her caramel hued skin that was prickled with various stretch marks that he loved to trace with his tongue any chance he got. Not only was Krys the most beautiful and sexiest woman he laid eyes on but she also one of the nicest people he knew. As corny as it fuckin sounded she was one of the rare people that managed to lighten anybody’s life that she came in contact with. She was extremely compassionate and charming and could crack the toughest person she encountered, her contagious personality causing people to constantly want to be in her presence.  

Sefa was a prime example of that. 

When he finally got signed by WWE, Sefa main goal was to add to his family’s rich wrestling legacy. He knew he had big shoes to fill based on the amount of Hall of Famers in his family and the current legacy his brothers and cousin were crafting at that very moment. Sefa told himself that failure was not an option. Being less than great was not a choice. And he was willing to put in the work to carve his own legacy that would be praised for decades to come. 

But the moment he met Krys, his goals shifted.

Sure he still wanted to become one of the greats in his family. But now he slowly found himself thinking about what he wanted his life outside the ring to look like. And every fantasy included Krys. Marrying her. Having kids with her. Growing old with her. Loving her until he took his last breath. 

But those fantasies couldn’t become a reality if the naked woman in front of him wasn’t on board. 

“You don’t seem happy about my request.” 

Krys stopped pacing back and forth at the sound of disappointment in Sefa’s voice and turned to face him. “Baby it’s not that I’m not happy. I just want to make sure this is something you truly want. What if we move in together and it ruins what we have now? I don’t want to lose you.”

Sefa stood to his feet and climbed out of his bed, taking large strides towards Krys before he finally reached her. His muscular arms wrapped around her body pulling it plush against his chest as he dropped a kiss on her temple. Krys’s arms automatically opened to hug him back, her body relaxing in his embrace. 

“Krys I don’t wanna lose you either. But I also know that I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re right I’m a loner and stay to myself. I keep most people at a distance. But Krystle Washington you’re not one of those people. I want to come home from the road with you waiting for me to talk my ear off about whatever gossip from those housewives shows you watch that you read that day. Or to wake up every single morning and watch you test every last bit of resolve I have while doing your daily yoga routine in the living room. I want all that sappy shit in those rom com movies that you force me to watch with you and only you.” 

Krys scoffed. “Stop lying I do not force you to watch those movies with me. You love them just like I do,” she said with a giggle. 

Sefa smirked. “What I love more is watching them with you. I love spending time with you baby.” He pulled away from the embrace and titled Krys’s head upward so they could lock eyes once again. “Admit it I make a compelling argument.” 

Krys couldn’t stop the small grin from appearing on the corners of her lips as Sefa’s words resonated in her mind. It wasn’t like she already didn’t spend all of her free time at his place. Financially it made sense to agree to his request so she could stop paying rent for a place that she had barely slept in since the moment her and Sefa became intimate a few months prior.  There was no denying how head over heels she was for him and the mere thought of taking this leap with him and moving to the next stage of their relationship excited her. But it was still a huge decision she had to think about. And seeing as how the two of them were currently holding each other’s naked bodies, his penis slowly awakening and slapping her inner thigh she knew it was not the right circumstance to think clearly.

“I’m not saying no.” She held up her index finger as a wide smile spread across Sefa’s face. “But I’m not saying yes either. Not yet anyway. I’m just saying give me some time to think about it babe.” 

Sefa nodded. “Ok that’s fair enough.”

Before Krys could say anything else, Sefa dipped his head and captured her lips in a smoldering kiss. She felt the wind slowly evaporate from her body as she quickly became lightheaded. She placed her small palms on Sefa’s chest to steady herself as his tongue slid out of his mouth and expertly pried the seams of her full lips before quickly tangling with her tongue. His hands fell to her round ass and squeezed generously eliciting a loud moan from Krys. Her thighs instinctively parted as the heat rushed to her pussy  causing it to throb without being touched and begged for attention. Sefa’s arms suddenly scooped Krys’s body into a fireman’s carry and he slowly walked back to the bed without their lips parting, planning to spend the next few hours to convince her to take him up on his offer. 

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | xiv

Apologies and confessions lead to a climactic end for Gold Dust Woman.

Read part thirteen here

Listen while reading: the chain - fleetwood mac (other songs mentioned but not really important to the story)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader, Sam Kiszka x f!reader, Danny Wagner x OC

Word Count: 15k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), touch of voyeurism, biting, lots of dirty talk, brief mention of spitting, touch of degradation, drinking, swearing, angst, arguing, breakups, crying, insecurity, self doubt, feelings of regret, anger, lots of fluff near the end 🫶🏻, sorry if I miss any!!

The last chapter 😭 these last few months of writing this story has been absolutely spectacular for me. the love and support and engagement I’ve received from you all has been mind blowing, and I’m so thankful for each and every one of you. Without you guys, Gold Dust Woman would be nothing. So thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I really hope that you enjoy the ending as much as I did. As always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻🫶🏻 (very lightly edited so please forgive me 😁)

“Sam,” You sighed, setting your coffee cup down with a shaking hand. “We have to talk.” You said, much less hesitation about your choices, now. It seemed like clarity had become you the minute you had realized Jake was the best person for you. You knew it was true, mostly because you had not felt one shred of anxiety that even came close to what you had been feeling all day. No, you weren’t excited to break Sam’s heart, but you were certainly less apprehensive about it than you were with Jake.

“That doesn’t sound good,” he said, stress already showing in his features. You managed a small smile, your stomach sick at the knowledge you would effectively have to go through two breakups in a single day.

“No, I guess it isn’t.” You said, moving to take a seat on the couch. “Sit with me?”

“Yeah, okay.” He whispered, sitting down beside you. You ran your hands over the fabric of your jeans, drawing in a long breath as you tried to settle your thoughts. Eventually, you looked over at him, noticing the sadness in his eyes before you even spoke a word. It killed you knowing that you had to be the bad guy despite months of trying to figure out how to end up the hero. The sad truth was, in the entanglement you had all found yourselves in, nobody could be the hero, yet you all seemed to fall somewhere under the victim category. So much suffering, yet no one to blame or save you from the pain.

“I love you, Sam.” You started, making sure that despite the impending doom, he knew that you still had so much love for him in your heart. Just because you were not going to be his forever did not mean that he wasn’t holding on to a huge part of you. “And I have for a really long time.”

“I know, y/n. I love you, too.” He said, watching expectantly as he prepared for the worst possible outcome of the conversation. You leaned back into the cushions, exhausted from the days events already, comforted none by the knowledge that it would only get worse from there. You reached out, grabbing his hand in your own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“There’s a saying that’s always stuck out to me,” you explained, tone quiet and as relaxed as possible. “If you don’t receive the love from the ones meant to love you, you’ll spend the rest of your life searching for it. I feel like up until now, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. I’ve been looking for so long that I’m starting to go blind, and I’m missing the entire point of being alive.” You laughed at your own stupidity, finding your search for love quite comical in the moment. You had spent a lifetime trying to find something that you never really believed in, and now that two blatant contradictions to your disbelief happened to be staring you in the face, you had no idea how to address it. “I don’t remember who said it, but it’s always stuck with me. I always thought it was you, Sammy. I really did. I wish it was, because it kills me to do this to you, but it’s not.”

“Oh,” he breathed, nodding his head slowly as he absorbed the information you were giving him. It was a heavy hit, especially after you had stormed into the room with such excitement to see him, but he managed to persevere.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hoping to catch his eye to show him you were being genuine.

“You don’t have to be, Princess.” He assured you, letting out a long sigh. He could be all but mad at you, for he had made the bed that you were forcing him to lie in. “I knew the risks, and it was worth it. It was always worth it, for you.” He said, looking up to meet your face. “Y/n, I meant every single thing I said to you over the last few months; I care that you’re happy, and if this will make you happy, I can live with it.”

“You have no idea how badly I wish that it could’ve been us. I see Danny and Dylan, and I’m so envious that I never got to have that with you. It’s been so hard since the very beginning… I just feel like I never got to have you the way I wanted to.” You felt the tears brimming in your eyes once again, unsure if you could make it through the conversation without cracking. Everything hurt, and you had no idea how to stop it. Sometimes, you believed as though pain was the only thing you knew how to feel. “I love you so much Sam, and I’m lucky that I got the chance to have you at all, even if it was different than how I pictured it. These last few months were beautiful, and they taught me so much. Even if it didn’t work out the way we hoped does not mean it meant nothing to me.” Your cheeks were soaked with the admissions of your guilt, tears falling at an unprecedented rate and showing no signs of stopping. You couldn’t control it, and at this point, you didn’t really care to. Sorrow was heavy in the air, constantly following you and making home even when you tried so hard to keep it out. There was no shame in displaying your heart to him, because that’s all you knew how to do, anymore.

“Hey, come on.” He pleaded, reaching up to wipe your cheeks clean. “Don’t waste all of those tears on me. God knows I don’t deserve it.” He said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You do, Sam. You deserve the world, and I wish that I could have given it to you.” You cried, leaning into his touch in hopes that it would take away some of the pain. “Maybe I could have loved you better if I loved myself more. I might have found the courage to say something sooner, and we could be living in the universe where we’re happy and everything is okay.”

“This isn’t your fault, y/n.” He said, fighting back tears of his own. “It’s mine; I should have said something sooner, I should have fought harder, or maybe I never should have put you in a position like this at all. I guess it doesn’t really matter, now. The war is over, and you can stop fighting. You’re tired, and I’ve known it for a while. I’m sorry that I let things go this far. You can blame whoever you want, but please stop blaming yourself.” He moved ever so slightly closer to you, grabbing your face gently between his hands. “If this is going to make you the happiest, I would never be upset at you for it. You deserve every bit of happiness this world has to offer. You always try and give it to everyone else, but it’s your turn, baby. You get to enjoy it, and you don’t have to worry about me.” He wiped your face clean once more, the soft touch warming your soul and soothing the pain. You wished so badly to make everyone happy, to settle the problem with no casualties, but it was just not possible. Someone had to hurt, or all of you would hurt. There was no winning, and in a way, everyone lost at least something along the way.

“In another world, Sammy.” You said, recalling the daydreams you and him had shared in the past. They seemed so close, so real, but you didn’t want to reach for them anymore. Your arms were tired of searching for something that might never be found, and if they were, you knew they would not have been able to compare to the fairytale world that you had created in your mind. “We’d have the house, the dogs, and the rest of our lives.”

“I’ll be dreaming of that world forever,” he said, a sad smile crossing his lips. “Just make sure that he treats you right, because you deserve it, and you make sure that he knows he’s the luckiest man to ever walk this earth. If he doesn’t realize that, then I’ll remind him myself.”

“Thank you for understanding. Thank you for not hating me.” You sniffled, already so burnt out from the whirlwind of emotion the day had thrown at you.

“Hate you?” He scoffed, a smile on his face despite tears welling in his eyes. “There is no possible way that I could ever hate you, y/n. You’re my best friend above anything else, and you’ve given me a lifetime’s worth of happiness in just a few months. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I could never make one as big as that.”

“I could never hate you either, Sammy. I hope that when this all settles, we can still be friends. I don’t want to live a life without you in it.”

“Of course we can. It’s going to suck at first, and it’s going to hurt, but we’ll get through it. We can get through anything.” He promised. “Thank you for being honest, and thank you for giving me the best few months of my entire life.”

“Thank you, Sam. You showed me how beautiful this life can be when you’re looking in the right places, and you helped me more than you can ever imagine.” You said, reaching out to brush the hair from his face. You let your thumb drift over the soft skin on his cheek, feeling better than you had in days. You hated hurting him, but you knew that it was what you had to do; Sam was your best friend, someone you loved to be around and loved making memories with, but in the long term, it just wasn’t right. You could have a good life with him, a great one, even, but you feared that it paled in comparison to the life you could live with Jake. Sam was comfortable, familiar, and fantastic all the same. He would make a phenomenal partner, but you knew he would be suited best for someone else. Jake was what you needed, what you craved for the future, and you knew he was exactly what your heart wanted. The truth lied within the fact that you were aching all over after walking away from him, and now that you knew you were walking away from Sam, you felt lighter than you ever had before. It did not feel good to hurt him, but it felt good to free yourself from the chains that your entanglement was tying you down with, and it felt good to finally be certain in your own decisions.

“You did too, Princess.” He mumbled, closing his eyes to hold back his tears. “Like I said before, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here. I’d wait for you forever if I had to. If you ever decide to try again, I promise I’ll do it right, next time.” He said, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your thumb.

“It has nothing to do with rights and wrongs, Sammy. I made just as many mistakes as anyone else. Don’t punish yourself for it, because we were all doing what we thought was best.” He nodded, hearing your words and trying his best to adhere to the request. “Thank you for everything.” You said once again, making sure your gratitude was clearly expressed.

“I assume you have to go deliver the good news, now?” He asked, eyes glistening with an emotion you had never seen from him before. It was killing you to cause him such suffering, but it was for the best, and in years to come you hoped to look back on this rough patch and have all of you laugh at your own stupidity.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You sighed, ready to make amends with Jake but not ready to leave Sam. “One last kiss, for old times sake?” You asked, a shred of hope in your voice. He chuckled at your question, drawing you in to him without another word. The kiss was soft, sweet yet sad all the same. It was a celebration as much as it was a goodbye. When you parted, sadness lingered on both of your faces, but there was also relief in knowing that the struggle was over. As much as he was mourning the fact that he couldn’t have you, he respected your choice, and he knew that with time he could heal the wounds he collected from the battle. The dance that you had been doing was only worsening them, and with proper care, the scars might be so light that you would never guess they existed in the first place. “I love you, Sam. I think I will for the rest of my life. A piece of me will always belong to you.”

“Me too, y/n. I love you, and I hope that even after it’s all said and done, you don’t forget that.”

“Never.” You promised, placing another kiss to his cheek, this time. “I’ll see you soon, Sammy.”

“I hope so,” he said, grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before rising to his feet. He gave a small wave goodbye before disappearing out of the room. You took in a long breath, but stood despite your body begging you not to. You were terrified to face the world after inflicting so much damage on another, and more so, you were terrified of rejection from Jake. After hurting him so badly, you would understand if he never wanted to speak to you again. You hoped that it was not the case as you broke into the hallway, headed straight for the direction of his dressing room, because you feared that him turning you down would effectively turn you to dust.

You stopped in front of his door, no more hesitation present in your mind as you knocked on the door. You waited for something, but received nothing. There was not even a hint that there was life inside the room. You swore under your breath as you raised your hand to knock again. You listened intently, wondering if you might be able to hear a movement beyond the door, but there wasn’t a thing that signalled that he was inside. You tried not to let the disappointment take over, but it was creeping up on you faster with every second that passed. You worried that you had effectively driven the final nail in the coffin, that you had pushed him just a little too far and now there was no way to recover from the hurt you had caused. You took a step back from the door as you continued deliberating your next move. You looked down the hallway, feeling like you had stumbled upon the key to the grand prize. Josh was walking towards you, mindless and uncaring of his surroundings.

You stepped towards him, cutting him off before he could make it any further and startling him with the suddenness. “Josh,” you greeted, trying to keep your frantic mind away from the public eye.

“Gold Dust Woman,” he greeted, slowly looking over your face. “You don’t look very good.”

“No,” you chuckled, knowing his observation barely scratched the surface “guess I don’t.” You sighed, wondering how to word your question to showcase the importance of your need for an answer. “Is Jake in his room? O-or do you know where he is? I really need to talk to him.” Your nervousness slipped out in your stutter, and he was quick to catch on to it.

“Uh, no, he’s not in his room.” He said, a note of sympathy in his eyes. “He’s in pretty bad shape, y/n. I think it’s best to leave things be for now.” If your heart could shatter any more, it did just that at the sound of his words.

“I know I fucked up, Josh. I just need to talk to him and make it right.” You whispered.

“Listen,” he sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze “you’re my best friend, but he’s my brother. I know that you didn’t want to hurt him, and I know it was never your intention, but he needs some time to heal. Sometimes it’s better to just let it go and move forward.” His sympathy felt like a punch in the face, but his misunderstanding of your intent was even worse.

“No, Josh, I’m not trying to coddle him because I broke his heart, I’m telling you that I fucked up. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and I need to make it right. I’m not trying to put a bandaid on a bullet hole, I need to tell him that I was wrong.” You rushed your words, looking over his confused expression. You gave a nervous gulp, not wanting to speak the obvious but knowing that it would be the only way he understood your intent. “I just broke up with Sam. I was wrong, Josh, and I need to say it before it’s too late.” You were desperate in your explanation, hoping that now he could see what you were trying to tell him. His eyebrows raised, lips parting slightly in shock at your words. “This whole thing is a mess, and I know that I’m at fault, but I’m trying to do the right thing. I need to do right by him, Josh. I swear I’m not trying to hurt him any more.”

“Oh, wow.” He said, processing the information you had thrown at him.

“I know, and you can hate me for hurting them; god knows I deserve it, but he deserves the truth. He deserves everything good in this world and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try. I know he’s your brother, and I know you’re trying to protect him, and I’m so grateful that he has someone as good as you to look out for him, but please, if he’s in your room just let me see him.”

“I don’t hate you, y/n. I just wish I could solve it for everyone, take the pain away, even. You’re all family, and this is incredibly confusing and frustrating, but I do not hate you.” He clarified, moving forward to pull you into a hug. “You’re sure?”

“More than anything else in the whole world.” You assured him, holding him tightly as if it would ease your hurt. His arms were familiar, but strange in the sense that you knew it was not him you were supposed to be hugging.

“I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.” He said, giving you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Thank you,” you said, but it held little weight in comparison to the relief you felt at his words.

“I think Aaron’s looking for you,” he nodded in the direction of the manager who was quickly approaching the pair of you. “Probably time for soundcheck.”

“Fuck sakes.” You sighed, turning to see for yourself. Josh was right, Aaron was talking to you before he was even in earshot, ordering your presence on stage. As much as you loved your job, you seemed to despise it more than anything in that moment. You looked back at Josh, giving him another silent thanks with your eyes before walking away. You went right to the stage, ignoring any other attempts at initiating conversation from anyone else passing by. Dylan was sitting at the drum set, tapping out a small beat while Riley was soloing on his bass guitar. Not even the sight of your best friends could break you from your misery; tears were still begging to be shed, only worsening when you picked up your own instrument. “Let’s get this over with.” You muttered, uttering a small check into the mic to make sure it was on.

“You seem chipper today.” Dylan noted, begging to catch a glimpse of your face so she could judge what type of poor mood you were in. “Left this morning before I even woke up. Felt like a cheap tinder date.” You let out a small chuckle at her joke, but opted not to respond as you tuned your strings to your liking. Without any warning, you let out a loud strum on the strings, kicking on your distortion pedal as you stepped towards the mic and let out a shout.

As if it were muscle memory, as soon as she heard the sound, Dylan joined in on the drums. Riley followed suit, singing into his own microphone alongside of you. You proceeded with the song, singing the lyrics with all of the emotion you were holding in your heart. Riley allowed you to sing the verses and the chorus, only joining in every so often when he felt the need to accentuate your impact. When the solo came around, you looked only at the floor as your hands did all of the work. As you finished, you leaned forward to sing the last few lines, ending the most passionate rendition of ‘Them Bones’ by Alice in Chains you had ever performed.

“So we’re angry, today.” Dylan said, catching her breath as she rested her arms for a moment.

“We’re everything today, Dylan.” You corrected, switching to your clean setting. “Try Little Wing.”

“You got it.” She said, waiting for you to begin. You played around with the Wah pedal, making sure your tone was right before you started the melodic intro. You couldn’t look out to the seats, knowing that there was only two bodies watching this time around. It killed you to know you had hurt the brothers enough that they felt as though they couldn’t even watch your rehearsal. Your chest was aching, wondering if you had truly fucked everything up as badly as you believed you did.

The cry of your guitar was similar to the one of your soul, echoing through the empty air just to return back and strike you in the face. Your eyes were still blurred with tears of defeat, but you refused to let any more fall. The weakness you had displayed within the last few hours left you shocked that you hadn’t crumbled to the ground in a mess of your former self, yet. You felt like you could, and you definitely wanted to, but you knew you had to keep going for just a little while longer. Your bones ached with exhaustion and your body was begging for a moment of peace, yet you continued on as if nothing was wrong. It was your best defence mechanism, and your only one. If you stopped now, you would never get back up again. As tempting as it was, giving up was not an option until you settled the score with Jake and did everything you could to make things right again.

Dylan drummed along with your playing and Riley was near perfect in his timing, but when you stepped up to sing, your fingers slipped from their position. An off note rang through the air, covered by your voice and quick work at recovery. You made it through the lyrics with no other mishaps, but when the outro came around, you seemed to completely lose your train of thought midway through. You let out a slur of curses, angry at yourself and the instrument for not doing what you wanted it to do. “All good, y/n.” Dylan tried to mediate, knowing your temper all too well. “Can try it again if you want.”

“No, just move on.” You shook your head, starting into another riff. You only chose to play it as a way to prove to yourself you still had the talent, but you couldn’t seem to get the right sound from your guitar that you were hoping for. You tried it a few more times, but couldn’t find the right rhythm for the outcome you wanted. “Fuck!” You exploded, your moment of anger catching you off-guard and echoing through the microphone. You practically ripped the strap from your body, slamming the guitar onto the stand and walking away without another word. Dylan nor Riley felt the need to call you back, knowing that your time on stage had come to an end for the time being. Forcing you to pick the guitar back up would only result in a catastrophic mess, and they were not willing to risk another Gibson guitar being shattered on the floor of a stage.

You walked around the corner, ignoring Aaron’s persistent complaints about your short lived soundcheck, and headed straight to your dressing room. The door slammed behind you with enough force to knock the building down and you collapsed on your couch without any care for your childish display. You put your head in your hands, hoping to hold the tears in for good, but they still seemed to find away around the strength in which your palms were pressed to your face. You felt like the world was ending, the sky crashing down and the earth cracking below you. After so long playing with fire, you had finally succumbed to the fatal burns of your own mistakes. You had hurt the two people you loved most, and you knew nothing about how to fix it, or even if you could mend the damage you had done.

You reached to your purse that was lazily discarded on the floor, rummaging around before finding a few single-shot bottles of whiskey. You took one and swallowed it down, ignoring the sting that settled in your chest, for it was much more pleasant than how you were already feeling. You dumped the other two into the coffee cup that Sam had given you, the liquid just reaching the brim of the cup. You took two long sips from it, uncaring of the unpleasant taste. You made it halfway through the brew before the knocking began. If you had to choose your least favourite sound, that would be at the top of your list. You ignored it the first few times, but it had eventually gotten so loud and persistent that you could no longer tune it out.

You swung the door open, met with the face of your stylist. “Told you we’d be spending lots of time together, today.” She said, opting to ignore your clear distress.

“Kind of in the middle of something.” You said, furrowing your eyebrows at her disregard for the scene.

“Moping around your dressing room?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow as she waited for an answer. When you remained silent, she stepped inside. “Let’s get you cleaned up and brand new, again.” She said, kicking the door shut behind her. She motioned for you to sit in your chair, to which you obeyed. She was a strong personality, one that was hard to adjust to, but you loved her. Much like everyone else on tour, she was family, and unlike everyone else, she wasn’t one to feed into your bullshit. “Get it all out now,” she said, looking to you as she took a seat on the arm of your couch.

“You want me to cry on command?” You questioned, confused about her motive.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I want.” She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. You felt like you were being graded on your misery, and it was a very confusing feeling. So confusing, that you almost seemed to be distracted from your poor mood.

“I… I think I’m okay, now.” You said, certain that the tears had finally run dry.

“You better be sure, because once I start, I can’t have you crying all of my hard work away.” You wanted to argue with her, but somehow the blunt words seemed to snap you out of your previous state of mind. Actually, you found them quite funny. She approached you after pulling a few things from her bag, giving you ample opportunity to double back on your word. She kneeled in front of you, bringing a makeup wipe to your face as she softly removed any physical reminders of your hurt. “I told you not to let them steal your shine, Gold Dust Woman.”

“I think I stole my own shine, Rachel.”

“Mhm,” she shook her head, dabbing away the mascara stains from under your eye. “Whoever stole it needs to give me my girl back, because this is not the Gold Dust Woman I know.”

“I know.” You agreed, solemnly cementing her words in truth.

“We’re gonna make you look beautiful, and then hopefully your mind will follow suit. Sometimes you just need a little break from the world.” She was right, and usually your time spent with her was a break from the real world. She put you in a suit of armour with her work, turning you into a version of yourself you barely believed to be real. You hoped that once she dressed you in your stage clothes, you could find the confidence to make it through the rest of the night. She was like a mother in the way she cared; firm yet comforting, and unwilling to put up with any bullshit. Neither of you seemed to talk much about any troubles, but she always seemed to make you feel better just by being in your company.

Once your face was clean, she took extra time to soothe the puffiness from all of the crying. When she began to apply makeup, she used a gentle touch and utmost concentration. She didn’t break her focus until she was certain that she had perfected the look. She guided you to your clothes, allowing you to dress yourself before she fine tuned any details. You were clad in a gold tank top, elegant and beautiful in its simplicity. It was filled with very tiny, reflective sequins that from afar seemed to blend into one. It was low cut, the neckline lax and swooping down as it settled on itself. It stopped just above your navel, the material loose and comfortable to move in. She picked a pair of leather pants that flared at the bottom but stayed very form fitting above the knee. She pinned your shirt in place before moving on to your hair. She touched up her earlier work but didn’t change much, leaving it hang freely over your shoulders before spraying it with hairspray.

“How do you feel?” She asked, voice quiet as she stepped out of your view of the mirror. You inspected your reflection, wondering if the woman staring back at you was truly you, or just an imposter begging you to believe it. You couldn’t tell for a second that you had been such a mess only a short time before. Your eyes were painted dark and prominent, standing out even further by the accent of gold eyeliner she had trailed down your face. She had made gold tears with the makeup, so subtle that you could miss it, yet shining just perfectly under the light.

“You deserve a raise,” you breathed, leaning closer to inspect yourself even further. She crouched down, now the same height as you and staring into the mirror with you.

“Even when you cry, y/n, it’s made of gold.” She whispered, looking to your face with a small smile on her lips. “Bring back my Gold Dust Woman. Show them that you’re worth more than all of that pain.”

“Thank you, Rachel.” You said, feeling more gratitude for her than you could even comprehend. The relationship between an artist and a stylist is nearly incomprehensible; no, you did not share the darkest of your secrets with her, but she most often saw the most vulnerable and intimate parts of you. She was projecting your inner self outwardly, and to do so, she needed to know you wholly. She was phenomenal at her job, and you were eternally grateful for her.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She said, standing once again. “Put my work to good use, then we’ll have time for gratitude.” You chuckled at her bold persona, nodding in agreement. She straightened the gold chains around your neck before slipping out of the room in silence. You waited until her footsteps faded away until you moved out of your chair, finding a shred of courage to move towards the hallway yourself.

You peered into the open area, timid to find the bodies that occupied it. You leaned against the doorframe, finding Riley and Dylan only a few feet away from the stage. You could hear the soft lull of Jake’s guitar calling to you, begging you to go and watch him work his magic. You took a few steps forward towards your bandmates, sneaking up behind them and shocking them with your presence. “Hey,” you uttered, remorseful about your blatant disregard for the soundcheck earlier. Dylan tuned her head to look at you, softened by your shy expression. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay,” she said, knowing that there was nothing you could do about it now. “Just don’t do it tonight.”

“Of course not,” you assured her, sneaking into the small space between her and Riley.

“You okay, now?” He asked, turning his head to look down at you.

“Yeah, much better.” You nodded.

“That’s all that matters.” He said, slipping an arm around your waist. Dylan did the same, a silent show of agreement. You slung you arms around their shoulders, finding it easier to stand with the strength of their support. You knew that no matter what happened, you had plenty of love coming your way. You had a world full of friends who would give anything to make you smile and go to the ends of the earth to take away the sadness. Grateful was not a strong enough word to express how you felt about them, and you wished you could be better at showing it. Your hope was that when the storm settled from loving the Kiszka’s, the world would appear easier to understand and navigate.

You watched the stage from the sideline, noticing immediately that you were on the same side as Jake normally took post on. It was hard to notice anyone or anything else when he was around because his presence took up all of the space in a room. He was beautiful, kind and generous beyond measure, and you were so close to having him forever. You were foolish to let him slip through your fingers once, and you would be damned to ever let it happen again. He was the earth you stood on, the sky above, and the air you breathed. Jake was everything, and you were an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. You felt entranced as you watched his fingers graze the fretboard, pulled in by his talent and suffocated by his beauty. Before you even knew it, the song had came to an end and the boys were walking away from the instruments.

You thought that this was your chance to get Jake by himself for a moment. As he walked towards you, head turned towards the ground, you broke free of the hold your bandmates had on you. You stepped to the side, landing a few feet in front of Jake in hopes to stop him from going any further. He looked up, surprised at your presence. He looked worse than you had ever seen him; his eyes were tired, bloodshot as if he’d spent the afternoon in the same state you had been. At the sight of you, he did not smile, nor did he give you any hint that he was happy to see you. You could not blame him, because if you were in his shoes, you would never want to speak to you again. Still, you persevered in hopes that you could change the situation for the better despite your heart begging you to run and hide.

“Jake,” you whispered, holding his gaze for as long as he would allow it. “Can I talk to you for a second? Please?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, pain rising in his features the longer he was in your company. “I just need some time, okay?”

“No, Jake, I swear-“

“Please,” he cut you off, clearly not knowing what you were trying to tell him. “Just give me a few days, then I promise we can try the friends thing.” He mumbled, averting his gaze away from you. You wanted to scream your love from him so loudly that it shattered the windows and lived inside the walls forever, to show the world how much he meant to you and how apologetic you were for not realizing it sooner, but you seemed frozen in your place. The rejection was not unexpected, but it was debilitating.

“No, I just need-“ you tried again, but his hand landed on your bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance before he stepped past you and continued down the hall. You turned, watching him appear smaller and smaller before he eventually turned into a room and disappeared from sight completely. You thought you were going to be sick, broken underneath the weight of the love you were carrying for him. As much as you wanted to chase after him, you knew it was best to let him come to you in his own time. Still, even if you knew it was for the best did not make the fact easy to choke down.

You looked over to your bandmates, noticing that they had been watching the interaction unfold in hopes of discovering the source of your misery. You let out a long sigh, shrugging your shoulders as if to tell them you didn’t know any more than they did. Dylan nodded her head towards her dressing room, silently asking if you wanted to wait with her until it was time to perform. You have a solemn nod, letting her lead the way. When the three of you were together in her dressing room, door closed and locking out any unwanted listeners, she finally felt comfortable enough to pry some information for you. You explained to the two about the events of the day, biting back tears as you spoke. When you made it to the end of your sad story, the shock on their faces was too much to bear. You closed your eyes, leaning your head on the back of the couch while you tried to forget about the sadness that seemed to make permanent home in your head.

“So, how are you going to tell him?” Dylan asked, now at the hands of the stylist who had recently been in your own company.

“Have to get him to talk to me first, don’t you think?”

“No,” her answer was simple.

“How am I supposed to tell someone I love them without talking to them?” You rolled your eyes, sipping on the drink Riley had grabbed for you. A little liquid courage could get you through anything, or that’s what you always thought. This time, it seemed different. The anxiety stemming from your predicament with Jake seemed too large to calm with any sort of substance. You weren’t worried about superficialities, nor surface level scars that would fade into nothing; this was the love of your life, someone who you wanted to spend forever with, and you were terrified you had lost him for good.

“Do you forget that we’re in a band?” Riley asked, looking over at you with a hint of humour in his eye. He was tipsy, but he was just as enthralled in the conversation as Dylan. “We write about our feelings for a living. Sing him a song, dumbass.” You reached over, smacking his arm gently as you both dissolved into a fit of laughter. The more time you spent with the two, the more the dread seemed to float away. It was still lingering, but it seemed much less daunting with them in your company.

“What song should I sing?” You asked, tracing circles into the fabric of your pants to distract yourself from your fear.

“That one’s on you,” Riley said. “I’m not the one confessing my love for him.”

“Maybe you should, I think you two would be awfully cute together.” Dylan teased, hidden behind Rachel as she had her face painted with stage makeup.

“I’ll let her shoot her shot, first. If she fucks up, though…” Riley trailed off, slowly turning his gaze towards you. “You better watch out.” Another chorus of laughter echoed through the room at his words. After the excitement died down, you drifted away into your thoughts, thinking of the best way to express your feelings for him. After a few moments, an idea surfaced in the mess of self-doubt that seemed impossible to pass up.

“I got it.” You announced, a small smile breaking out on your lips. Riley leaned over, giving you a pat on the back as a way to say he was proud of you.

And thus began the longest wait of your entire life.

The minutes seemed to pass with the length of an hour, and the hours felt like eternities. You drank, trying to settle the nerves in yours stomach, and tapped your foot against the floors to rid yourself of the jitters. Riley left the room to allow Dylan to get changed, and eventually Rachel left to tend to his stage outfit. The small talk had between you and your drummer was nearly painful, both of you knowing that you were completely uninvested in any of the topics at hand. You were nearly vibrating by the time Aaron knocked on the dressing room door, bursting at the seams with anticipation of getting on stage. You joined together at the side of the stage, listening to Aaron’s short instructions to ensure the performance would run smoothly.

When he motioned for you to start, you have a nod and a prayer for enough confidence to get through the night. When you appeared in front of the crowd, you were met with cheers and applause, fuelling your ego only enough for you to pick up your guitar. Dylan sat behind her drums, a blinding smile on her lips as she started a slow beat on the kick drum to set the mood. “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Riley asked, met with a cheer of an excitement from the audience. He looked over to you, laughing at the sound.

“We’re Gold Dust Woman, and we’re so excited to spend the evening with you all. Here’s a song we wrote about being drunk…” you said, looking to Riley for a moment “and in love.” You started a familiar riff, one that had been circling around the internet after your first performance of the song. You knew that once the tour finished up, it would be first on the list of songs to record.

The longer you played, the more confident you felt in your own ability. You found yourself intermittently checking over your shoulder, looking to see if the boys were watching you from their usual spot. At first, there was only Josh and Danny observing from the sidelines. Halfway through the set, Sam made an appearance, looking beautiful in his stage clothes and makeup. Your heart ached at the sight, but when he caught your eye and gave you a reassuring smile, you felt on top of the world. The weight lifted from you ever so slightly just by knowing he did not hold any resentment towards you. There was only one more loose end that needed tying, and you had put your entire faith in the idea that Jake would be willing to watch your performance that night.

When you got down to the last three songs, you were tired and dejected, ready to pack up your things and stitch up your wounds. Jake had not yet made an appearance, and you were beginning to believe he would not leave his room until the second he was needed on stage. You couldn’t blame him, but you so desperately wanted to blame someone, which ultimately landed you back in your initial position. All of the self-doubt and insecurities flooded back in, giving your hands a nervous tremor as you played the solo of your second to last song. Riley sang softly over your playing, distracting the crowd from any potential mishaps your fingers may have caused. You finished with a small outro, trying to zone in on your fretboard to avoid any further mistakes. You finished with a smile, happy that you finished at all.

You looked back over your shoulder, knowing that you would be met with another staggering rejection, yet needing to check anyway. Your heart nearly erupted from your chest and your breath caught in your throat. Your head was swimming with adoration as your eyes landed on the fourth body that finally joined the crowd. He caught your gaze, the same intense emotion taking hold of him in an instant. You struggled to break from the state, wishing to stay lost in his eyes for the rest of time. His lips upturned in the corner, not quite smiling at you, but acknowledging that he was invested in you. You managed to shake your head free from the overwhelming fear, looking to Riley in hopes he could communicate with you wordlessly. You nodded your head in his direction, silently asking if you could switch positions. He caught on immediately, making it seem like the interaction was planned all along as he moved towards you.

You gave him a high five as you passed, trying to make the switch as relaxed as possible. “Alright, we’ve got one more song for you tonight, and it’s a very special one to me.” You said, tuning down your top string. “If you know it, sing it with me. I think I might need some help to get through it.” You encouraged, tuning your bottom string. You casted a look back towards Dylan, a hopeful smile on your lips. She gave you a grin with all of the support she could muster in her features. She gave you a drum roll, hiking anticipation until you began playing.

You began the infamous introduction, the first cluster of notes immediately sending a surge of excitement through the room. Dylan joined in, giving you a steady beat, and Riley bit back a smile as he plucked the top string of his bass.

“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies” Riley sang with you, your voices harmonizing alongside the crowd’s excited voices. You took a step back, playing a small part on the guitar before leading him into the chorus. Before you began, you looked over at the group of boys watching your performance. You caught Jake’s eye, holding him captive as you sang directly to him.

“And if you don’t love me now,

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain” you sang, powerful and with clear intent. Jakes head cocked to the side, his eyebrow raising in disbelief as he watched your blatant display of emotion. You sang the chorus once more before breaking your gaze, focusing on your hands to regain your composure. You could feel the rhythm in your heart, the beat of the drum rattling your bones and the bass pounding in your ears. If you could keep your focus on the music, you could finish the song. You continued repeating it in your head until you believed it.

“Listen to the wind blow, down comes the night

Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies

Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light” you looked to Riley, allowing him to lead you back into the chorus. He sang alone while you echoed his words back to him. He let you sing the next one, switching roles so he could echo you. You looked back at the side stage, the shine of tears in your eye as you saw the look of anger begin to form on Jake’s face. You continued singing, only stopping so he could play the bass line leading up to the solo. On his second run through, you began picking the bottom strings, speeding your pace the longer you played. You took a step back from the mic, losing yourself to the tune. You let your head fall back, eyes closed as your hands guided you through the process of the solo. When it came time to sing again, you were overcome with a sudden burst of energy.

“Chain keep us together!” You shouted into the microphone, looking to Riley as you did so.

“Running in the shadows!” He sang back, watching you to see when you would start again. You repeated your line, more passion than the last time, and he copied your energy. You grinned, walking over to him before singing again. He stepped to the side, allowing you to join him at his microphone. He faced you, playing at you as you did the same to him.

“Chain keep us together!”

“Running in the shadows!” You sang into the same mic, face to face as you played your instruments. The passion was electric, igniting your heart and your soul as it only increased further. You looked past Riley, catching Jake’s gaze one last time before singing the line once more. Dylan let out a loud bang on the drums, stopping the song entirely and filling the air with silence. After a second, everyone erupted into cheers. Dylan stood behind her drum set, raising her arms in the air in triumph. You looked back at her, laughing at her antics.

“Thank you, and goodnight!” Riley yelled into the microphone. You waved out at the crowd, slipping your strap over your shoulder and handing it off to a sound tech waiting for you just off the stage. You were breathless, barely able to thank the group for their endless compliments on your performance. You were stopped before you could move any further, frozen in your tracks by a body that stepped in front of you. You looked up, meeting Jakes angry eyes while fear settled in your stomach. Both of you were too caught up in the flurry of emotion to care about your surroundings, ignoring Aaron’s warning of the boys 45 minute timer until they got on stage.

Jake reached out, placing a hand on your upper arm as he guided you away from the group and towards your dressing room. He pushed the door shut behind him, looking to you as he waited for an explanation. You were at a loss for words, not expecting your performance to catch his attention so efficiently. “What the fuck was that, y/n?” He asked, his stare burning into you and his tone harsh. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn’t seem to find anything meaningful to say. “You break up with me, tell me you’re in love with my brother, and then you get up on stage and pull a stunt like that? I have no idea what you want from me. If you want Sam, then have him, but you need to give me some time to get over you!”

“I was wrong!” You blurred out, panic stricken and desperate for him to slow down. “I don’t want you to get over me because I was wrong, Jake!” He paused, completely still as his expression shifted. He was frozen, eyes glossed over with disbelief as he processed your words.

“What?” His voice was quiet now, approaching you with utmost caution as if he was afraid to scare you away.

“I love you, Jake, and I was wrong.” You whispered, taking a step closer to him. “I was so wrong, and I know I can’t take back the pain I’ve already caused, but I can’t let you go. I love you. Three months ago, I loved you. In a year from now, I’ll still love you. When I’m eighty years old and watching the world happen around me from my front porch, I will still be thinking about how much I love you. It’s the type of love that’s forever, and I know that I will never feel this way for anyone else in my entire life. I’m so sorry for not seeing it sooner, and for walking away, or for thinking that there might be something happier for me somewhere else, but it’s just not true. You are everything Jake, and I am certain of that. You wouldn’t listen to me earlier, but I needed to tell you. I couldn’t live with myself if I just let you go.”

He watched you, head tilted to the side slightly as he absorbed your confession. His lips were parted slightly, in awe at the profound nature of your words. As nervous as you were, you couldn’t help but admire him. The beauty that he was surrounded with was indescribable; the way his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to process his thoughts, the glimmer in his eye that gave you a shred of hope, all of it. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe that you had the opportunity to love him at all. You wanted to step forward, to be so close to him that you never had to worry about distance again, but you were afraid. You awaited the invitation, your body yearning to be in his arms and addicted to the memory of his touch.

“I know that this has been hard, and we’ve messed up, but I don’t want to make mistakes with anyone else, Jake. I would be happier struggling with you than I would be if I was comfortable with someone else. I don’t know how to love, or what it really means to love someone so completely and selflessly, but I know that I feel it for you, and god do I know that you feel it for me. I’ve never been so loved in my entire life, and I never want to let it go. You love the parts of me that I thought would always be unlovable. You loved me so much even knowing that you could get hurt, and you loved me even while I was hurting you. I’ve never really been in love like this before, but I know that this is what it’s supposed to be like.” You rambled, confessing every thought that crossed your mind. You hoped that it was enough, because you couldn’t fathom the thought of watching him walk away.

“A-are you sure?” He asked, seeming like he wanted to reach out for you but worried that it might be some kind of sick joke.

“I am more sure than I’ve ever been before.” You whispered, gravitating towards him despite your brain telling you to stop.

“100 percent?” He asked again, also leaning closer as he asked.

“A million percent, Jake.” The pain that was on his face seemed to vanish at your assurance. Without another word, he stepped forward, so close to you that it made your head spin. He grabbed your face in his hands, leaning down and kissing you with every ounce of love he could muster. You flung your arms around his torso, pulling him as close as possible. You wished you could live in the moment of euphoria forever, knowing that nothing in your life could ever top the feeling of loving him freely. He broke away from you, his face still dangerously close to your own. He pressed another soft kiss to your lips as a way of thanking you for coming back, but he had no need to thank you for anything.

You slipped your hands under his suit jacket, desperate to be closer but unsure of how to do it. He laughed at you, your cold hands shocking his warm skin. You looked up at him, hearts dancing in your eyes as you lost yourself in his expression of elation. “You meant everything?” He mumbled, looking over your face and soaking in every detail.

“I will scream it from every rooftop in the world if I have to. If that’s what it takes for you to understand how much you mean to me, I’d do it a hundred times over again.” His eyes were speaking words that only your soul could understand, pulling you in further and making you fall even further in love. “When I left earlier, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I had made a huge mistake. I came inside to to talk to Sam, and I couldn’t do it. It’s always been you, even if I was too stupid to see it.” You said, feeling choked up just at the thought of leaving him. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I know I can’t take it back but I hope that I can make it up to you with enough time.” He let his thumb drift over your cheek, shaking his head before you even finished speaking.

“No apologies, angel. It doesn’t matter anymore, what matters is that you’re here with me, now.” You smiled, unable to contain your excitement any longer. His lips were still close enough to your own that you could feel him start to smile, too. Without warning, he moved his hands, crouching down slightly and anchoring them on the back of your thighs. In one swift motion, he picked you up off the floor. You let out a shriek of surprise as you wrapped your legs around him and threw your arms around his neck to steady yourself. He laughed at the sound, making sure to hold you tightly so you knew there was no fear of falling. But, as long as you were with Jake, you were well aware that you would never have to fear falling unless it was in love, because he was always waiting to catch you.

“So this is it? We get to be happy, now?” You asked, looking down at him. It was almost too fantastic to be true, but you knew that it had to be, because no dream could make you feel as good as you did in that moment.

“I think so,” He breathed, grinning up at you with the same happiness in his heart. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the moment and unable to hold back any emotion trying to push through. A tear rolled down your cheek, which he was quick to spot. “Why are you crying, baby?” He asked, concern thick in his voice. “There’s no need for tears, anymore.”

“I’m just happy,” you said, voice shaking as you spoke. “I’m so happy, Jake. I never thought I could be this happy. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be something more than what I was born with, more than what I was ever given, but all of the work never seemed to make any sense because I still went home feeling the same way. I don’t feel like that, now. For the first time in my life, things feel perfectly right.” And it was true; you had searched forever, always coming out empty handed and wondering if you would ever find the thing you wanted most. Now, it was in front of you, and with a promise of forever. It was almost too much to take, but you were trying your hardest to accept it.

He moved to the couch, sitting down while being cautious of not dropping you. Once you were settled in his lap, he brought a hand to your face and wiped away any fallen tears. “It can be like this forever, y/n.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I promise I will love you as long as you want me to, and long after that. You are my heart and my soul, and everything worthwhile. I want to be everything you need, whenever you need it.”

“You’ve already given me the whole world, Jake.” You said, bringing your hand to his cheek. “You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have.”

“And I’ll keep giving until I can’t give any more.” He said, drawing you closer to him and resting his head in the crook of your neck. “I’ll give you whatever your heart desires, Gold Dust Woman. All I ever wanted to do was make you happy.”

“Happy doesn’t even come close to what you do for me.” You said, running a hand through his hair. He placed a kiss to the skin on your neck, pulling away only for a second before beginning to move upwards. He kissed a trail to your lips, the final kiss nearly too sweet to break. You held him to you, settling your other hand on his shoulder to support yourself.

It only took a moment for the passion to catch up to you, weeks of being deprived of each other taking its toll and begging you to submit to the temptation. His fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin of your back was enough to drive you to insanity, and the intoxication from his kiss made it impossible to resist him. You gave an involuntary grind of your hips against him, your body’s natural response to the feeling of his touch. He tightened his grip on you as his breath caught in his throat, desperate for anything more than what you were already doing. He pulled you down on him, his erection pressing into your heat and sending a wave of arousal through you. You let out a small whimper into his mouth, sending him feral in an instant. His arms travelled up your body, sneaking under your shirt and begging to pull it off of you.

You parted from him, breathless with stars dancing in your eyes. “Jake, we don’t have time.”

“We have plenty of time,” he assured you, refusing to back down. He could see the worry in your eye, but he was certain in his statement. “Don’t you trust me by now, Gold Dust Woman?” The nickname was like pure ecstasy to you, settling deep in your chest and making home like it had always belonged there.

“Of course I do.” You said, regretful for ever doubting him. You lifted your arms, allowing him to discard your shirt with little care. He brought his mouth to your collarbone, starting softly with kisses as he unhooked your bra with expert precision. He let that fall to the ground, too, not concerned with anything other than getting your clothes off. He brought a hand to your breast, the cold air of the room stinging your skin but the warmth of his touch offsetting the harshness. He let his thumb drift over your nipple, sucking marks into your collarbones as if he was trying to cement the reality of his victory. He moved his mouth downwards, focusing on your other nipple with his tongue.

He was desperate to know you again, like the weeks of separation had made you strangers. If he could, he would have spent the entire night with you in your dressing room, but he knew he had to make quick work in order to finish before he was expected on stage. With the vulgar noises rolling off of your tongue, he knew it would not be difficult to do. You were deprived just the same as he was, just as desperate to be touched and just as eager for an orgasm. He let his teeth sink into your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine and a gasp from your lips. You could feel him smile against you, cockiness returning so quickly that you doubted it ever left. He moved his hands to your hips, prompting you to stand so he could take your pants off, too.

You did as he pleased, allowing him the honour of undoing the button and removing the fabric to reveal what he’d been missing so much. You kicked the pants to the side, leaving yourself almost completely exposed and accessible. He sat on the edge of the couch, practically drooling at the thought of having you wrapped around him again. His eyes raked over your body, his jaw hard set as if he was a predator eyeing its prey. Romantic Jake was long gone, and you were more than okay with that; you loved him, and you were joyous over the knowledge that he was yours and you were his, but you were desperate to be fucked. You would never tell him, knowing that it would only fuel his already strong ego, but he was the only one who could do it right. He settled his hand on your hip, drawing you in and bringing his mouth back to your skin. He admired you only for a moment before turning you around. He let his hand trail over your ass in silent admiration before placing a kiss there, too. Instead of pulling away like you expected, he sunk his teeth into the skin with intent to make you quiver under the touch.

He did just that, the sensation causing you to jump and shy away from the unexpected moment. He let out a chuckle as he pulled away, unapologetic for his actions. He let his finer trail under the band of your underwear, drawing the elastic back slightly and snapping it against your skin. You wanted to complain, to chastise him for the teasing, but you were enjoying it too much to care. You were willing to take anything and everything that he was willing to give. He hooked his fingers through the sides and pulled that fabric away from you too, leaving you fully naked and at his disposal. “Do you know how much I missed seeing you like this?” His voice was low, husky and filled with lust. You thought you might be able to get off on the sound alone. He spun you around again so you were facing him, looking down as you anticipated his next move. “Do you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded, feeling his fingers ghosting over your thighs. You shivered under the touch, wondering if he was possessed by his own sexual desire, or if it felt so good solely because of how much you loved him.

“Did you miss me, angel?”

“So badly,” you sighed, watching him with hearts dancing in your eyes. He let out a hum of approval, loving the sound of your shameless desperation. He reached down, placing his hand behind your knee, slow with his touch so he wouldn’t catch you off guard. You allowed him to guide your leg so your foot was resting on the cushion beside his thigh. He leaned forward, dusting kisses over the inside of your thigh, lost in the haze of desire that had quickly filled the room. He brought his hand to your cunt, letting his fingers run through you to get a better understanding of how much you wanted him. His jaw clenched at the pool of arousal, nearly insane from the thought of you being his and his alone. He trailed his finger to your clit, rubbing agonizingly slow circles as he watched your face. He was aching to see the look of pleasure, the one in which your eyebrows knotted together and your lips parted, shamelessly crazy for everything he was doing to you. Sometimes, it kept him alive even more than the most basic of things like food and water.

“Did she miss me, too?” He purred, looking up to you with the far-away smile that let you know he was no longer thinking about conversing with you. Even if you hated to admit it, you had grown to love it so deeply that it made your chest ache when you thought of it for too long.

“Why don’t you find out?” You asked, trying to focus on anything other than his rose tinted cheeks and glossy stare. As much as you wanted to, you knew you would never hold any real power in the bedroom with Jake. Or, perhaps you held all of it, and you would never know the difference.

“Talking back to me, angel?” He asked, adding more pressure with his fingers.

“Never, baby.” You breathed the lie so easily he could almost believe it was the truth. Almost being the keyword, but he missed you too much to punish you, and he didn’t have enough time to do so, anyway.

“Come here,” he muttered, making a move to guide your leg over his shoulder. A whine slipped through your lips before he ever put his mouth on you, deriving pleasure from the idea of his tongue alone. His eyes fluttered up to meet your face before he proceeded any further, amazed by the sound and intrigued by the cause. “You want me that bad, baby?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Your face tinted red with embarrassment, but he was having none of it. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I want to hear all of those filthy fucking noises.” The end of his sentence was resembling a growl; his excitement was nearly unbearable and he was unable to hide it from you.

“Please, Jake. I need you so fucking bad.” You pleaded, your fingers already knotted in his hair with anticipation for his next move. His eyes fluttered closed, the words settling in his soul and already beginning to heal the wounds he’d collected from the days events. He couldn’t wait any longer, too pent up after being without you for so long. He guided your hips forward to meet his mouth, his tongue immediately landing on the sensitive bud he’d been teasing just moments before. In lieu of any formalities, he slipped two fingers inside of you, making it a mission to bring you to a climax as quick as possible.

A sharp moan sounded through the room, making home in the foundation of the walls to leave a permanent reminder of what had happened behind the closed door. His fingers stayed at a steady pace, pumping into you in time with the movement of his tongue. You couldn’t help but tug at his hair, needing more than he could possibly ever give you. At least, you thought it would be impossible to give, but Jake always managed to find a way. Your eyes were screwed shut as you bit down on your tongue, hoping to stay as silent as possible so nobody would know what was happening inside the room. His tongue was still laced with unholy energy, You were certain of it. There was no human that could possibly hold so much power within such simple movements. He was sent from the devil to turn you evil, too, and you didn’t care. Even if he was corrupt, or if the touch was woven with hidden intent, you would succumb to the temptation every time. Jake as an entity was much too powerful to resist, and you would be okay with it even if it was death you were suffering at his hands.

Your breathing was labored, chest heaving in hopes of catching up on the air he was stealing directly from your lungs. A thin layer of sweat had already begun to form on your forehead, your body so willing to give in to him with so little persuasion. It was always like that with Jake; it seemed as though he never even had to try to turn you into a mess because you were willing to do it as soon as he walked into a room. A raspy cry tore through you, already feeling an orgasm creeping up on you. It had been so long that you were surprised it even took him this long to get you there. You thought maybe he was savouring the moment, because Jake had to the ability to make you come undone in seconds. No matter what it was, you couldn’t find the strength to complain about it. You were so grateful for anything he was willing to give you, even if he chose to deny you an orgasm for the entire night.

That strength was not within him, though, and he was just as desperate for your climax as you were. He sped his tongue, matching the pace with his fingers, hoping that with a little encouragement you would come undone right then and there. You swore under your breath, holding his head for support in fear that your legs would give out from under you. He hummed against you, showing his own pleasure from your enjoyment. You felt the knot tightening in your belly, the burn almost too intense to ignore. You wished to drag it out a little longer, but you couldn’t hold back. It was partially due to your need for a release, but mostly because you could not deny him of his wish. He asked so little of you that you felt guilty even thinking of refusing him anything did want.

“Fuck, Jake.” You let out a shaky breath, feeling your muscles tense and your walls clench around his fingers. He did nothing but continue working at you, keeping a steady pace and continuous movement. Your fingers tightened against the strands of his hair, keeping you grounded as the world started to spin. You couldn’t even manage another word before the orgasm washed over you with a ferocious intensity. He tightened his grip on you, making sure you would not stumble and fall to the ground. You managed his name through the waves of pleasure, singing it like a hymn. Jake was the god you prayed to and the devil you feared. He was the angels watching over you and the sins you committed. He was everything and anything all at once, and although it was confusing, it was euphoric to be in the company of someone so magnificent. You hoped that you would never have to see a lifetime without him.

He slowly pulled away from you, making sure you were steady before removing your leg from his shoulder. With a shaky hand, you loosened your grip on his hair and moved it to his shoulder, supporting yourself with his help. “How was that, angel?” He asked, looking up at you. Your orgasm was glistening on his chin, like a trophy of the vulgarity you two had just engaged in.

“It was so good, baby.” You sighed, already recovered and ready for more. He stood, hands never leaving you as he did so. He wasn’t willing to stop touching you because he had spent the entire day believing he would never get the chance again. He guided you towards the chair placed in front of the vanity mirror. He unbuttoned his pants, only pulling them down to his knees before sitting in the chair. He wasn’t a fan of the time crunch, yet he was grateful for it all the same. It allowed him to give in to the temptation of you without needing any further excuses. He was certain that if he had to wait any longer, he might die from the agony alone.

He spit into his hand, stroking himself for a moment before reaching out for you and guiding you towards him. With your back to him and your legs on either side of his, he lined himself up with your entrance. “Waited so long for this, beautiful. You have no idea how many times I thought about having you like this again.” He murmured, lips just hovering over your ear. You took the intiative and lowered yourself onto him, both of you hissing in pleasure at the feeling after going so long without it.

“Just like this?” You asked, slowly gyrating your hips. He let out a hum of agreement, too lost in the pleasure to verbally express his feelings. “Did you touch yourself while you thought of me, Jacob?” You pressed, tone growing more firm the longer you spoke. His eyes snapped open, shocked that such a question had come from your mouth. “Hmm?” There was a fire in his pupil, like you had ignited a part of him he never knew existed.

“I don’t remember you being such a whore,” he said the word so sweetly, like it was far from insulting. But, being a whore for Jake was nowhere near insulting, and you would proudly admit to it any day of the week.

“Maybe you bring out the worst in me.” You hummed, looking forward and into the mirror, watching his face intently as the pleasure began to take over. “You didn’t answer my question, baby.”

“I did,” he groaned, your slow pace pushing him to the brink of insanity. You could feel him throbbing inside of you, desperate for more but willing to take what you were offering just so he could be close to you. “Every fucking night.” His fingers were burning into your hip, brandishing it with marks that would turn purple within minutes. He slipped his hand to the front of you, letting his middle finger find your clit so he could continue his torment. “Did you think of me when you were touching yourself?” He asked, eyes flickering up to your reflection.

“All of the time,” you sighed, leaning your head back to rest on his shoulder. He brought his free hand to your face, grabbing your cheeks between his fingers and forcing you to look back at the mirror.

“Keep watching, angel. Don’t miss all of the fun.” He said, pulling your earlobe between his teeth. You felt a flutter in your stomach, a warning from your body that it was going to explode if he didn’t slow down. “See how pretty you look with my cock inside of you?” Your hips stuttered, thrown off course by the vulgarity of his statement. “Don’t you think so?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You whimpered, weak from the tone of voice he was using. It was filled with power, yet coddling you at the same time. It was intoxicating, and you were a complete fool for him, eager to stay drunk off of it forever.

“Fuck you feel good,” he hissed, turning his head inwards to place a kiss to your neck. “Could fuck you all day.”

“We have the rest of our lives.” You whispered, barely realizing the weight of your words until the movement in his hands stuttered. He smiled against you as if you had given him the most wonderful gift in the world.

“We have the rest of our lives,” he agreed, trailing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. He dropped his hand from your face, bringing it to your breast as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You arched your back at the feeling, only allowing him to thrust in even deeper as you came back down on him. You let out a whine, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix in a painful type of pleasure. He sped his fingers, knowing that as much as he wished to keep fucking you all night, he would need to leave soon. He felt you clench around him, your legs shaking as you tried to keep your pace steady. “Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” He muttered, eyes flickering up to watch the reflection. “Do you want to cum for me?”

“G-god yes,” you stuttered, holding on to his arm for extra support. He took in a long breath in attempt to calm himself, feeling dangerously close to the edge, too.

“Okay, baby. Want to watch you while you cum on my cock.” He encouraged, gaze focused on your face in the mirror. “Be a good girl for me.” He whispered, speeding his fingers ever so slightly. That was all you needed to come undone, head spinning with no real thoughts as your body vibrated against his hold. Your eyes were squeezed shut, his name stuck on your lips like it was the only thing you knew how to say. His jaw was clenched, knowing that he couldn’t hold on any longer, feral from the noises you were making for him. “That’s it,” he hummed, letting out a groan through gritted teeth.

When you started to relax against him, he took his window of opportunity and brought both of his hands to your hips. He pulled you down on him, forceful and loving all at the same time. You let out a yelp, all of your nerves still tingling with the ghost of pleasure. You leaned forward, grabbing on to the edge of the table to hold yourself steady while he fucked into you. It only took him a few moments to catch up, his orgasm long overdue and just as intense as your own. He spilled into you, muttering curses as he fucked his own release back into you. After a moment, he tapered his movements to a halt. You both sat there together for a moment, breathless and scared to move in fear of ruining the moment.

Eventually, he carefully stood, moving his hand to catch any potential mess as he pulled out of you. You sighed, disappointed at the loss of contact once he was fully parted from you. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” He said, motioning his head towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathed, following after him to erase any evidence of the sinful activities you had engaged in. Once you finished, you searched your room for the clothes you had arrived in that morning, finding them in a pile on the floor. You slipped on the sweatpants and the t-shirt, a smile permanently stuck on your lips as you turned to face him.

“What are you smiling about?” He said, teasing you while knowing he had the same one on his own face.

“You,”

“Me, too.” He said, taking a step towards you. “I love you so much, y/n.” He mumbled, taking your face between his hands.

“I love you, Jake.” You said, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug. He did the same, holding you just as tight.

“So, uh, maybe I should have asked sooner…” he started, pulling back so he could look down at your face. You watched him, wondering what could possibly be floating around in his brain. “Would you… would you like to be my girlfriend, maybe?” You laughed at his nervous stature, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks to match his own.

“I would love nothing more, Jacob.” You giggled, elated at the childish glee that overwhelmed his expression. He leaned down, placing a small kiss on your lips. Just as he did so, a knock sounded on your door. “Showtime,” You chucked.

“Showtime,” he agreed, hesitant to let you go, almost as if he was scared you wouldn’t be here once he got off stage.

“Go, I’ll be waiting for you right here when you’re done.” You said, urging him to listen to Aaron’s instruction. He nodded, leaning down and placing another short-lived kiss on your lips.

“Okay,” he sighed, moving away and towards the door. Just as he opened it, he looked back at you for a moment. “Thank you for sharing your secrets with me, Gold Dust Woman. They were far better than I ever imagined.” You laughed at his words, feeling the happy tears begging to make another appearance.

“It was a pleasure sharing them with you, Jake. Now go on, you’re going to do great tonight.” You shooed him away.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss. His eyes sparkled with adoration as he reached out, pretending to catch it. He then proceeded to pretend to shove it in his pocket before turning away.

“That’s my good luck charm.” He said, but he was gone before you could reply.

Slowly, you made your way towards the door and out into the hallway. Dylan was sitting on the side stage, looking back at your room with a hopeful expression. You gave her a nod and a thumbs up, barely able to contain your glee. She grinned, ecstatic at the news and already wanting to know all about it. You approached her, standing by her side as you looked out at the stage. She was caught up in Danny, who was sitting eagerly behind his drums, and you were caught up in Jake, who was already strumming away at his guitar. Even Sam, who was across the stage, had a smile on his face, knowing that he would be alright. The world seemed okay, and that was something you were eternally grateful for. You never pictured things turning out so perfectly, but even the most brutal of storms left a rainbow shining brightly in the sky.

You wrapped an arm around Dylan, your chest finally free from the aching pain that had been ravishing it for weeks. As you watched Jake, you knew that there was no doubt in your decision to love him. There was something eternal about the two of you, like when the oceans meet the rivers, and when the river meets the sand, leading you all across the earth until you find water once more. It was similar to how the day turned into dusk, only for the midnight skies to turn blue once again. An endless cycle that was the only permanent comfort in life. You could love Jake in every lifetime and never grow tired of it, and at the very end, you would still feel like you could love him even more than you already had. You would share every secret and untold story, and hope to make every memory and experience with him as beautiful as humanly possible. He was your lesson, the one you had been dreading for so long, but you were so grateful that you opened your mind for long enough to learn it.

He was your forever, and you were his Gold Dust Woman, just like it was always meant to be.

GOLD DUST WOMAN

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

[blueberrypie20]

Ubuyashiki Jun'ichi backstory post + Taisho secrets/fun facts!!

Jun'ichi Ubuyashiki is Kagaya Ubuyashiki's only living sibling, 4 years younger than him; 19 years old and a hinoe. Their mother died while giving birth to him, leaving the older brother alone as the head of the corps with an infant brother.

Not having anyone around to take care of the ubuyashiki brothers, Jun'ichi quickly learnt to handle himself on his own and satisfy his needs without asking for help, understanding the prsssure on the family and Kagaya's duties even as a young boy and thus quickly gaining maturity.

As Kagaya married at thirteen, Jun'ichi started feeling distanced from his brother. He was busy commanding the corps and making a heir; Jun'ichi couldn't be the next heir so him staying alive seemed to have no use. For a while, he kept on wishing that his weak heart would stop beating before he would make another burden to Kagaya and his family.

Despite his calm nature, Jun'ichi's a very adventurous person and, as a kid, he enjoyed investigating the woods surrounding the estate. One year after his brother's marriage, when he was around ten years old, he got lost in the woods near sunset. Knowing how worried everyone would be and that his brother would be distracted from his duties, he kept on pacing around the forest to find a way out, only to get further lost.

And somehow, he was attacked by a demon who lived there, so near to the estate (even so, it was repelled by the wisterias, so it wouldn't be a threat.) He usually carried a pack of wisteria with him, but this one time he'd lost it. He was a perfect prey.

He thought maybe his generation wasn't an exception and there will always be only one ubuyashiki son left.

However on the last moment before it jumped on him, Jun'ichi remembered his 14 year old brother's words.

"Ubuyashikis must cling onto life until the angel of death comes for them himself. Don't let anything kill you that easily now that you've survived, but also don't resist without reason when death comes for you."

A swordsmith that appeared to like Jun'ichi a lot, had made him a small dagger out of the same materials that make nichirin swords, just in case of self-defense. He pulled it out and managed to behead the apparently newly-transformed demon before receiving any serious injuries from it.

At that moment, he noticed the reason why he was still alive. He always assumed he was physically weak but he managed to behead a demon, barely at nine! His purpose in life was to become a slayer, and defeat Muzan Kibutsuji and his apprentices under his older brother's commands. He could be of use for the Ubuyashiki. For sure.

The news of him beheading a demon reached his brother and the hashira, everyone surprised from how someone like him could do that.

However Jun'ichi had already rejoiced, and now, he just wanted to get stronger. He knew his role now, and he wanted to fulfill it as good as possible. So he decided to ask the hashiras to help him; just putting a path in front of him would be enough. He knew well how busy they were.

Much to his surprise, none of them accepted, telling him he was still too weak to even wield a wooden sword, let alone becoming a demon slayer. He was frustrated and his logic agreed with the hashira, but his spirit couldn't afford to give in. He had to use other means.

So he carefully sneaked inside each and every of their estates, and watched how each of them trained. He learnt his swordmanship from Sanemi, his flexibility and reflexes from the Kocho sisters, and improved his focus, stamina and physical strength from Gyomei and Tengen. It still took him way longer than a usual slayer-in-training since no one directly instructed him and thre was a huge possibility of him getting caught, but he rathered the slow and steady way more anyway. Plus, to achieve his goals, he didn't seem to have any other choice.

Now all that was left was to learn a breathing style; however, with his weak heart, Jun'ichi doubted if he could ever master any of them. He continued training, however was losing hope since he wouldn't be able to learn them correctly and use them at full power.

Suddenly he had an idea. Why not come up with a breathing style on His own?

So he practiced slashing his wooden blade while using total concentration breathing day and night, getting hella exhausted but it was worth a shot since he now had discovered a breathing style that suited his body; breath of glass — he named it like that since it's a breathing style suited for people with weak physique, with bodies and hearts of glass.

He took the final selection with his only weapon being the same dagger mentioned earlier.

He spent six years training in total, and participated in the final selection at 16. His nephew, Kiriya, and his sister, were surprised to see their uncle there.

Kagaya was also surprised when a swordsmith arrived at the estate with Jun'ichi's sword.

His sword is a light variant of wisteria purple, and doesn't have a guard (yet?).

At first, he thought of using wisteria poison instead of breathing, but then he remembered that even the strongest of poisons might not work on some demons.

He still helps Shinobu in examining her poisons.

His crow is called Momotarou and, obviously, loves peaches. Jun'ichi always has some dried or fresh peach with him in a small bag to give to Momotarou whenever he comes to Jun'ichi.

Kimetsu Academy AU:

He's a high school third year student, best at math, biology and chemistry.

He's restricted from doing heavy exercises in P.E due to his heart, however only a handful of the students know about it yet. They just think Giyuu (+ the other teahcers) have a bias because Jun'ichi's the director's brother.

He's in the pharmacology club and wants to go to a medical university.

Tagging the amazings @love-stvrs @iincogneeto @larz-barz