#it's a lot longer than i meant it to be and probably not very coherent

[kareenvorbarra]

now that it’s been a few days and i’ve talked to some people and read some posts, i’m gonna try to organize my thoughts re: “the arrival” and “news from the palace” in particular 

major spoilers for both stories, and some criticism below: 

the hypothetical laela story was really the only specific thing i was hoping for from this book, so it was a big letdown for me when i realized i wasn’t going to learn anything about her that i didn’t already know. the silver lining is that i don’t have anything getting in the way of my own headcanons about laela’s future (which are becoming increasingly detailed as i work on my fanfic about her), but i’m still sad that we didn’t get to see her and kamet talk about what happened. their relationship is one of my favorite in the series, and it’s not a major focus of fandom production or discussion, so i was hoping that a little more canon content about their dynamic would make more people interested in it. i guess the only thing to do re: laela is to throw up my hands and say “my city now” and continue to make things up and enjoy myself. 

my issues with “news from the palace” are a little more complicated (and also relate to “the arrival” as well, because they do seem to be happening in the same place, though i guess that’s not a given). on the one hand, i love that costis and kamet are still living together, and that they didn’t just become the next generation’s teleus and relius. costis as captain of the guard felt like a stretch to me, especially after RoTT. as compelling as the loyalty theme in this series can be, i loved that costis got to return to kamet, and that his whole being wasn’t subsumed into his sense of duty to the king and queen. 

i thought kamet becoming the next secretary of the archives was more likely than costis becoming captain of the guard, but it didn’t appeal to me that much for similar reasons - kamet has spent most of his life doing a stressful job and working for important people, and i wanted him to have a real chance to think about the kind of life he might want for himself. i love the idea of him having a peaceful life and a family - things he was robbed of as a child, and that we know he once dreamed about having with marin. (we don’t know that he and marin wanted to get married and have kids, but he wanted to run away with her - given their circumstances, that implies that he planned to stay with her for the forseeable future. why run away with your lover if not to build a life with them, the kind of life you literally cannot have when you are both owned by someone else?) i also love that he is clearly still close with pheris, that pheris visits often enough to know the kids’s names, that the kids know some of pheris’s sign language.  

on the other hand, i’m still reeling over the choice to give costis two biological children with different mothers, and to just drop that in there with absolutely no explanation. we don’t know if timris and philo’s mothers live in the house, if they’re involved in their children’s lives at all, if they’re even alive. we don’t know if costis is married, or a widower, or if he and kamet made an arrangement with a nice lesbian couple so they could all have kids. this tells us nothing except that costis had sex with two different women at least once. 

i love costis/kamet as a ship, and i don’t think this story precludes them being a couple at all. i don’t necessarily mind them not becoming canon (though i would have loved it if they had). i’m also a bisexual kamet truther, i love kamet/marin and it drives me crazy when people downplay their relationship or write it off as shallow or childish. my mental image of costis and kamet’s future didn’t involve either of them getting married to women, but i’m also not completely horrified by the idea. 

the issue i have with “news from the palace” is not really that costis might be married to a woman (though i did feel like it came out of nowhere). it’s that we don’t know whether he is married or not. literally all we know is that he has two sons, who are half-brothers (meaning they share a parent) and that one of them looks a lot like thalia’s son, which basically confirms that costis is their biological father. 

if mwt didn’t want to say outright that costis is married, but she wanted him to have kids, what was the point of doing it this way? why rule out the possibility that his children are adopted? why use such deliberate language to make it clear that these are costis’s biological children and that they have different mothers, while not giving a single detail about their mothers? it creates this massive void where the female characters should be - they must exist, because someone had to give birth to timris and philo, but their existance isn’t acknowledged in any meaningful way. we don’t know if they’re alive or dead, present or absent. why was she so determined to make it clear that these women exist, while giving us absolutely no information about them? 

in the same vein, “the arrival” introduces three women who are living in the same household as kamet, and at least two of them are new characters (possibly all three, though one could easily be thalia). i assumed we were going to get some information about them, particularly the woman who is notably suspicious of laela. what was the point of showing us those characters and creating a few interesting details about them without providing any follow-up? for that matter, why do we only get names for new male characters in this household? it’s thalia’s husband and three boys, plus three unnamed women, plus two complete non-entities who might overlap with the unnamed women. any of the kids in “news from the palace” could have been girls!

we also know basically nothing about how kamet fits into this family, except that he lives there. are he and costis a couple? does he consider costis’s children his children? does he have a wife and/or children of his own? 

i’d almost rather have no details about costis and kamet’s future than a handful of details so full of gaps that i can’t engage with them unless i sift through dozens of possibilities, none of which i would have come up with if left to my own devices. 

[sciroccoorion35]

All My Ao3 Series

To my surprise and delight, I have been getting some comments and kudos on some really old fics lately. I don’t know if this was prompted by my clumsy foray into tumblr, or Locklyle week, or just new people finding the fandom. Whatever the reason, I know my back catalog is long and shall we say, eclectic? So I thought I should maybe do some explaining for the new folks (and for the old folks who have spent the past year watching my insanity with amused tolerance).  I’m going to start with my many series, in alphabetical order, of which there are three basic kinds: continuous stories, fics that live in the same universe, and collections based entirely on vibe (I just like organizing things, okay?). I hope this is helpful to someone 😀

After: A One Bed Wednesday Series

This is a true continuous story and I recommend you read it in order. However, since it follows the events of canon, as long as you’ve read the books, it will probably make sense in almost any order (except perhaps the last fic, which ties everything together).

Black Winter Melancholy 

This one is all vibes, though the first two fics are meant to be companion pieces. I actually wrote another from Holly’s pov but it’s been languishing in my WIPs folder longer than almost any other fic.

Curtain Call - Performing Arts AU

This is a continuous story, however I know many people have read Winter’s Tale without reading Curtain Call and said it was fine. Winter’s Tale is probably a little better written (I was very new to writing when I wrote Curtain Call) and includes every Christmas trope I was able to cram into it.

From the Mixed Up Files of Lucy Joan Carlyle

These are stories that fit into book canon and are narrated by Lucy, doing my best to copy her voice straight from the books. These are really fun to write 🙂

Flares and Flashes: Lockwood & Co. Drabbles and Ficlets

This is barely even vibes, this is just little ficlets that do not in any way go together and should probably not be read together. I don’t know why I have a series for these 😂

Lockwood & Co Consulting (Post Canon Collection) 

These live in the same universe of post canon. I had been inspired by works like The Dying Light to write a post canon fic where Lucy and Flo go to therapy and their relationships with their boys progress. However it was a lot of ideas and no coherent plot so it’s now a series and anything post canon gets thrown into the mix.

Lockwood & Co. TV Adaptations

People either love these or refuse to read them. Yes, they are scripts, but I’ve tried to make them as readable as possible, similar to reading a play. If you are here because you are a) a huge fan of the show, b) a huge fan of the show who is incredibly sad not to have season 2 by now, c) a huge fan of the show who found the book characters jarringly different on first read, or d) all of the above, these are for you. I would encourage everyone to at least give them a try. If you can get into it, I really think you may find you love it.

What Dreams May Come: A Collection

Vibe collection! Angsty dream fics. Includes some fics that are in other series too, I just can’t stop writing dreams and nightmares.

After writing these down I feel like I need to 1) add a cot3 series for the cot3 babes, and 2) maybe get rid of the drabble/ficlet series. Also, many of my best fics aren’t in series at all and I have no idea how people find their way to those. By the tags, I would hope?

[safety-writes-noms]

AU Ask!

Have you seen any of the Drider!Miguel fanart? I love that concept as an AU for him since it's basically just a reimagining of him being 50% spider in a much more visually striking way.

Any thoughts on Drider versions of Miguel and/or other Spiderpeople? What spiders would you imagine for the spider-half of their bodies? (If you don't like spiders, feel free to ignore this part - or this whole ask - LOL!)

Hi moot!! :D I haven’t seen any of the fan art actually :( very sad but I’ve done some research and wow, I love the idea of Miguel being a drider.

I’d like to think that his lower body would be some sort of mix between a wolf spider or tarantula? Maybe? And it also being a striking dark-ish blue with red markings patterned on his legs and abdomen. Or a black widow, but only the females have that red hourglass marking so idk.

I was originally going to go with wolf spider for the bottom half but then I saw that they don’t make webs since they hunt and I kinda liked the thought of Miguel lounging around on a giant web doing his usual monitoring of his society so I just thought it would be fine to make him a mix n match of a bunch of different spiders since it kinda fits with his origin in the comics.

(I’m deathly afraid of all and any spiders so :D tried my best to avoid looking too much at them on google.) since he’s physically half spider now he’s going to be a whole lot bigger. Obviously. He’s already huge without the spider half but with? That man is massive and completely more in tune with his spider side. He kinda has to be since he’s spider from the lower half down.

for something so huge he’s disturbingly quiet. Eight legs proves for insane mobility and stealth. He’s more balanced than a four wheeler on concrete and probably stronger than one too. The horror element is strong in this one.

I feel like he might be a bit more instinct driven when it comes to people he cares deeply about. They’re like a constant stream of secondary thoughts underlying his usual human rationale. A quiet blip of hey, some of the kids are injured, you need to bundle them up and store them away or Peter is trusting mayday to us, keep her safe always, she’s going to fall, why did he give her webshooters, hold her close etc. it’s basically a very mixed muddle of semi organized human and spider instincts/thoughts threading together to form coherent words in his head. Sometimes one side is more in control than the other. It just depends.

since Miguel really doesn’t like being Spider-Man in the comics and also probably the movie, he probably hates being half spider too. He hates being inhuman, feeling like some sort of monstrous being who’s made for nothing but the lowest form of sentience and bloodshed. His fangs don’t retract like they do in the movie, his claws are longer and sharper, but he still tries his absolute best to seem human to people. Poor guy can’t catch a break.

he gets kinda clingy in certain times of the month when his spider instincts start going rampant with the need of being close as possible to whoever he’s currently fixated on. Or multiple people. And the fixatipn never goes away, it just gets a little more easy to ignore during other times. Any of the spider kids or his closest second hands (Peter, Jess, etc) are all up for grabs in his mind. It’s even worse if he knows one of them are hurt or emotionally troubled. To his spidery side, he’s the main protector, he’s the one who’s meant to make sure everyone’s still alive, still in one piece. After all, his precious spiders are… not as spidery as him. They don’t have the necessary amount of limbs, they’re much smaller than him, they don’t even have claws like him! who’s going to protect them if he’s not there?

When he’s in that kind of mindset he’s not really too bothered by the idea of nomming them either. After all, he’s just making sure they’re safe and warm, tucked away in his belly securely. And what other place is safest in the world than with him? Besides, some parts of his human side agree too. They’ve already had one precious spider slip out of their grasp, disintegrating into thin air so… y’know, can’t have that happen again. He’s calmer when he knows where they are constantly. He’s like a helicopter parent. Except ten times bigger and grumpier. But yeah. Any spider that manages to worm their way into his heart will inevitably land under the umbrella that is the mess of his protective instincts. I’m so sorry for not doing the second part of ur ask 😭 I hate spiders a bunch and I don’t really want to research more of them so I can find which ones would match each spider person. Maybe a black widow for miles since they’re usually red and black?

[regina-del-cielo]

Fic 20 questions

I was tagged by @bewires, thank you!

1 - How many works do you have on AO3?

13, lucky number.

2 - What's your total AO3 count?

67,881 words. Not bad.

3 - What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, only for The Old Guard (2020). I'm a "one hyperfixation at a time" type of person.

4 - What are your top five fics by kudos?

Celebrated for Their Frankness (P&P)

Kissing a Stranger (P&P)

Galeotto Fu'l Cane (P&P)

hand in hand, we stumble and we fall (then we stand, once and for all) (TOG)

seems like happiness is just a thing called Joe (TOG)

5 - Do you respond to comments?

99.9% of the time, yes, even if it's just to write "thank you for reading" thirty times in a row

6 - What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Uuuuuh I don't actually write angsty endings? Even the sadder ones always have a vision of hope in the end

7 - What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Again, difficult to say. Probably c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui (dans la vie) because it's Reunion and Fluff Galore. Or A Marriage of True Minds, because of Wedding Fluff and Feelings.

8 - Do you get hate on fics?

Thankfully not, and I hope it never happens

9 - Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No, not really. Love reading it, but I don't think I'll go that far myself.

10 - Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No I don't. The thought never really crossed my mind

11 - Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Never, thank goodness

12 - Have you ever had a fic translated?

No - although one could say that I already am doing my own mental translation since English is not my first language lol - but if someone wanted to I wouldn't mind, as long as they asked me first

13 - Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, never happened

14 - What's your all time favourite ship?

Why are you asking me to rank my children?! Darcy/Elizabeth has been around longer, but Joe/Nicky really Hit Different. So I say it's a tie.

15 - What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them? There's a reason I don't post WIPs - inspiration is flighty and cruel. I never say 'never', but knowing myself if I haven't worked on something for longer than a year it's unlikely I'll ever start again

16 - What are your writing strengths?

I'm the wrong person to ask this - Maybe plot coherency and world building? I tend to take a lot of time to make sure that the plot flows well and that things are as accurate I can get them. Also, clearly, writing soft and fluffy things.

17 - What are your writing weaknesses?

I always have the feeling of my writing being clunky and too detail-filled, because I want the readers to see the scene as I see it in my mind. And I've never been able to stay within the number of words I expected to - my one-shots get stupidly long.

18 - Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I literally make Nicky speak in Italian as much as I can get away with it all the time. But also, if it's a language you don't know well and unless you have a human who speaks it that can check it, I wouldn't just trust a translation software. I have seen enough of glaring Italian errors in fic to make me want to go "please just say that they spoke in another language in the dialogue tag I beg of you."

19 - First fandom you wrote for?

Winx Club, a long long time ago, and not in English

20 - Favourite fic you've written?

I think it's a tie between hand in hand and We're Meant to Find Each Other - they're more team-focused than the others; hand in hand was the first I wrote for TOG fandom and a true stroke of inspiration. Meant to Find Each Other is the only multi-chaptered fic I ever managed to finish, it spans through multiple time periods, and the AU it's set in is very close to my heart.

I don't know who has already done this, but I'll tag @ellynneversweet @raedear @gallifreyburning @nicolos @nicolodigenovas and anyone else who feels like it!

[batsyforyou]

P90 Reactions

Author’s Note: I worked really hard on this and I had so much fun. I tried my best to display the characters as accurately as possible but I did take some small creative liberties. There will be more later down the line in terms of story and reactions. I did try to make it coherent, interesting and most importantly make it make sense. There will be other reactions later but this is just the P90 weapon reactions. If you're not familiar with Stargate I did make a post for you to look up terms and stuff if you wanted. And if the links don't work let me know and I'll fit it.

Stargate Basics 

Mission Briefing: When a member of the Atlantis Expedition and a previous member of SG-1 somehow finds themselves in another world, per usual, but this time it's the familiar world Tolkien. With a few superficial wounds and an aching head, military officer Captain Y/n of the United States Air Force discovers that some stories have some truth to them. 

P90 Reactions 

Debriefing:  

Just start from the beginning, Captain. 

Well, Sir, in the beginning it was like waking up to a fairytale. Like it was all just one big dream… 

Waking Up

Mission Report: 

How I think the Elves would react to a P90. 

Debriefing: 

Overall the Elves in particular were very unsettled by the destructive capabilities of the P90, Sir. The sound was particularly disliked.

Alright, what about the Dwarves? You said there were dwarves there? 

Yes sir. They ah, had a far better opinion then the Elves. They were quite enthusiastic for the most part… 

Mission Report: 

How I think the Dwarves would react to a P90 

Debriefing: 

And how was it that you encountered this world’s more ancient elves? How did that happen? 

Ah, that was the direct result of Gandalf and another wizard called Radagast trying to send me home. Instead they sent me back in time. It was quite an adventure… 

Mission Report: 

How I think the Silmarillion Elves would react to a P90

Debriefing: 

I am sure that must have been quite a shock for you. 

Yes, Sir.  

How did you get back? To the time you left? 

Oh, well, the world’s religious figures caught wind of me. They were referred to as “The Valar.” They were pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. I still don’t fully understand why. 

Mission Report: 

How I think the Valar and Maiar would react to a P90

Debriefing: 

They were pretty unimpressed though I can’t say I blame them. They sent me to a time a little further than the one I left as they said that Sheppard and the rest of my team would be there. I’m not sure how that worked, but before the team came, I did run into some interesting people. 

Mission Report: 

How I think Tolkien Men would react to a P90 

Debriefing: 

Interesting. Now we’ll discuss more of that later but P90 aside, what else happened? 

Well I—um, I’m not sure where to start. 

I spent months trying to remember what happened. But even today I still don’t know how I got there or what had caused my head injury or even how I got separated from the team in the first place. Elrond didn’t believe that I’d ever remember. He thought that the memory was dark and terrible, he said that it was probably best if I didn't remember anything. The longer I stayed in that world the more I believed him. Some things just aren't meant to be seen twice . . . 

Honestly, There's a lot to tell.

Hm. Then we’ll continue at another time. Get some rest Captain. 

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Have a pleasant evening Mr. Woolsey. 

More Reactions

Masterlist

[x-authorship-x]

I hope for something fluffy, so how about a “Kiss me.”? Whichever ship you like :)

#27- "Kiss me."

Shisui paused, glass halfway to his mouth before he very slowly lowered it back to the table.

A long, incredulous pause.

"...what?"

It was Shisui's voice, kind of. Choked and thin and painfully, transparently, hopeful. And he definitely didn't remember opening his mouth to ask that.

Shizune's expression barely moved as she blinked, slow as a cat; she was still pale and wan even with a glass of wine in her. Why she'd demanded that they convene at the bar instead of her flat, not even giving herself space for a rest, Shisui still didn't know. If it was urgent, he trusted her enough to tell him without wasting time. They met up regularly, by Jounin standards, and their catch-up could've waited... unless it couldn't and that meant there was a reason for her insistence that they have dinner and then stay out longer than she definitely had the energy for after a twelve-hour shift.

Meaning that Shizune was up to something.

But... if wasn't time-sensitive, then it was just... personal-sensitive and Shisui might've been more emotionally-coherent than most of his Clan but he still shied away from those subjects head-on. For himself, at least. For Shizune's sake? There wasn't much, revealing as it was, that he wouldn't do for her.

"I probably should have phrased that like an actual question," Shizune only sighed. The overhead lights, even as amber and as dim as they were, highlighted the tired bruises under her dark eyes and the nimbleness of her hands as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear. He had the horrible urge to touch the lobe, the soft skin marked by a single, empty piercing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to just spring that on you."

Shisui could do nothing but swallow, throat bobbing and something bitter twisting in his chest. Again, his mouth formed words without proper thought. "That's alright."

A flicker of a smile, there then gone.

"Shisui-san, will you please kiss me?"

....no, he'd not hallucinated it that time, either.

Nerves tangled in his gut, a thrumming energy spiking under his skin. It wasn't like any Shunshin that Shisui had ever known, not the rush of delight and control and adrenaline but like something twitchy and frantic. He felt the intense urge to leap to his feet and possibly launch himself out of the window. Maybe start laughing hysterically, even though this was the furthest thing from funny.

He didn't do either of those things because his traitorous mouth was moving again.

"Why do you want me to kiss you?"

Fuck!

Shizune smiled, wide enough this time to reveal her perfect teeth, and the expression seemed to bring her whole body to life. She'd had a shit shift at the hospital, that much had been painfully clear when Shisui had swung by to see if she was free for dinner tonight, and even getting some complaints off her chest hadn't done much to restore her.

In fact, up until that fateful request, she'd seemed as twitchy and pale as Shisui felt this moment. Ironic that she'd start to feel better as soon as Shisui's own state took a nosedive.

Surgeons. He should've known she had some hidden sadism.

Shizune twisted on her stool a little more, pressed in close enough from the fullness of the bar for her thigh to radiate warmth against Shisui's, and then her elbows were on the table and knocking against his own as well. It was distracting, made Shisui feel as wrong-footed as a civilian and not one of Konoha's top Shinobi, and he was too emotionally invested for this kind of thing. Shizune wasn't a tease, she didn't flirt and sway and-

-and she was leaning in close, the heat of her breath brushing over his jawline, and her answer just loud enough for Shisui to make out over the general din.

"Because, as nice as it's been luring you in bit by bit, it's been a really long week, Shisui-kun, and I can't help but think that a kiss from you would make everything a lot more bearable."

Oh.

Oh.

She-

There was absolutely nothing Shisui could do but twist his head, skimming his nose along Shizune's as he leaned into her space, and - finally - slot his mouth against hers.

... Shizune was right. It really was the best way to fix a shit week (and it made every week after it substantially better too).

[thedawningofthehour]

Now that I myself am in the process of writing my own fic for my AU I now understand how difficult it is to think of coherent world building. For example, do the Yōkai have a movie industry? They have recording technology, they should have one. Do they get movies from the surface? Are they allowed? Or are they just smuggled in? Draxum definitely watched Lou-jitsu movies. Did they see them in those spheres? How do they change the format?.

Don't make me think about technomancy, please.

WELCOME TO THE WORLD-BUILDING HOLE. YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE.

But seriously, there's just so many moving parts to any society, it's so interesting to think about how they all fit together. And you will virtually never run out of things to think about, especially as you learn more about the world and why shit is the way it is.

The thing I've been keeping in mind here is that the Yokai world is very small. Literally, since most of them live underground with limited resources and they can't just expand however they want, but there's also just not a whole lot of them. I haven't put concrete numbers on it, but considering the population of NYC is around 8 million and the Yokai can't outnumber them or the humans would realize something was up, I've been assuming there's about five million Yokai altogether.

This is not a lot. Just pulling up some Wikipedia, that is the population of Ireland. New Zealand. Costa Rica. Not together; each of them have a population just over five million. For other Americans, I live in Minnesota, which is about 5.7 million. California has almost forty million people. Five mil is the population of Alabama. Imagine if every human on earth died aside from the people in Alabama.

So you do have to work that into your world-building. A big reason humanity has advanced so much in the past few centuries has been the dramatic increase in population-we're at eight billion people right now. We only hit one billion in 1800. We've gone up by 2-3 billion people in my lifetime. That's billions more people to feed, yes, but that's also billions more people working, studying, figuring out more efficient ways of doing things, moving our technology forward. That created a snowball effect as those extra people not needed for shit like farming and other low-level work were able to invest their time into making machines to help with the farming, freeing more people from their labor and adding them to the 'fuck around and find out' class, making advances in medicine, which meant more people living to fuck around and find out, and so on.

This happened in reverse with the Yokai. They aren't all peasants working in the dirt to scrape out a living because they have developed technology in the past that made gathering basic resources less labor-intensive, plus they have magic. They have universal healthcare and provide free education because they know from experience that those things are nothing but beneficial long-term. And Yokai do live longer than humans, so a highly educated citizen will likely keep benefitting their community for a few hundred years rather than the 50-70 years we can expect out of a human.

But...they still need some farmers. They still need teachers and baristas and primary care doctors, and their population is so small that there just isn't a ton of people left over to do shit like Draxum and Galois are doing. And then you add capitalism into the mix, which further decreases overall productivity because now you have people like Bella doing IT work to pay her bills and then numbing the pain of existence with drugs because she's way overqualified for a job like that and it's really not a job that needs to be done in the first place.

This is a very long way of saying that they're likely at a standstill in regards to developing their own technology and culture, and are probably in the process of being taken over by human culture due to cultural dilution. I doubt they have the resources to create Yollywood or whatever-Hollywood also really relies on the international market too, don't forget, (especially China, which is why so many movies have 'gay rep' that can be easily edited out-Chinese law forbids that) and with the Yokai's small population/need for secrecy, there just wouldn't be enough of a market to make high-budget movies worthwhile. (and they can't get away with charging exorbitant ticket prices because Yokai kids would just stream human movies instead) In my fic they do have some Yokai TV shows, but they're like...soaps and reality TV. Stuff that can be made on a really low budget, because that's all that profitable. They absolutely could not outlaw human stuff because so much of their society is human stuff.

Also keep in mind that since Yokai live longer, cultural shifts would probably take a lot longer. They wouldn't be outright hostile to change, (if you live for hundreds of years, like, you've seen the world change a lot with your own eyeballs, if you don't get over it and accept that change happens you're gonna have a real bad time) but they would take a lot longer to get used to it. A lot of Yokai still don't have televisions or computers because they're used to their magic glasses, and cell phones are just now catching on with Yokai teenagers. Draxum thinks his house is modern by virtue of having an electric fridge. (that he bought in the sixties) They have modern technology, but it's all mixed in with shit from different periods in the last two hundred years or so.

As for how magic systems work-that's the fun thing about magic systems, they're magic! By definition, they're not supposed to make logical sense. You can hand-wave a lot of shit that way. The only real rule with establishing magic systems is that you have to stay consistent with your ruleset. So say like for Death Note-the rules for the Death Note are well established and are an integral part of the storyline. If the L plotline was wrapped up because Light just wrote 'L' in his Death Note while picturing his face, we all would have rioted because that would have gone against how we understood the magic system. Conversely, if I gave Leo a piece of paper that killed people and just let him write 'goatman'-I mean, from a story standpoint that wouldn't be very good, but as long as I didn't call it a death note I could get away with it. If anything, I would have established a rule for how my own magic system worked.

[creaturebehavior]

I understand things now that i was trying to figure out when i was 24.

like why do i no longer care to help people? why am more selfish now than ever before? why do i want to say no to everybody? am i a bad person?

i understand now that i am burnt out. after my childhood where i was forced to parent my father and some of the relationships i’ve been in, especially my most recent one where i was forced to parent my abusive boyfriend and i had only just gotten out of that relationship at 23 and still was all screwed up about it until pretty recently

i understand myself and i forgive myself for not having it in me anymore to take care of anyone. i clearly am struggling just to take care of myself

i have very little room left in my life to concern myself with others problems. and i realize i’m a hypocrite as i tend to burden other people with my needs and i don’t know how to take care of myself properly, although i try to do this as little as possible i just don’t know how to be independent and support myself completely

that part i am still trying to process and navigate and growth through and hopefully grow out of

i realize black and white thinking is unhealthy and i realize it’s a part of my untreated disorder to think that way. and i also forgive myself for thinking that way. the trauma from my life shaped my brain to think that way automatically in order to try and keep me safe.

after saying yes to adam and to my dad too many times all i can say to people now a lot of the time is no. and i’m still learning how to say no, so sometimes no comes after some hesitation and sometimes has be reiterated as i waffle while someone tries to persuade me to do something and i go well maybe and then i go no and they go are you sure? and i go well… i’m yeah i’m sure. and they go you’re really sure? and i have to say yes i’m sure i meant to say no. I’m at least getting better at this.

To me, i do feel very much like a toddler who just learned the word no and learned that i have autonomy. wow i didn’t even realize i felt that way until now. i feel like i have to say no to everyone and to everything because i am learning about my autonomy, i’m learning where and what my boundaries even are, i’m learning i’m allowed to use the word, and i’m learning how to use the word. but with layers of 27 years of trauma overtop of that so it feels like. i am so tired. like i’m just learning to say no, but i’m so fucking exhausted. i’m not saying “no” so much out of curiosity around setting boundaries as i am saying “no” out of desperation for a break. although i’m sure an element of the former is true for me as well because boundaries are so new for me still, 6 years into hearing about what a boundary even is as concept, 3 years into beginning to feel i grasp the concept of boundaries as well as the concept and occasional practice of how to set and hold them, and i am still just getting used to setting and holding boundaries and understanding boundaries as concept although i’m much further along than ever before there still is a huge element of “the unknown” around boundary setting and holding which remains probably a tinge of curiosity around what’s going to happen whenever i set/hold s boundary

wow speaking of being burnt out, this post just burnt me out and i don’t think i even got to my point or completed my thought

language is so hard for me recently. putting every word in order and choosing words that would make coherent sense takes up so much of my brain energy jfc

[gaast]

Just read an opinion piece on GI.biz arguing that Game Freak needs to give itself longer development cycles simply and purely to ensure that their games' quality is closer to "polished" and to 9 or 10 out of 10 scores, rather than any number of other more important reasons to take more time making games, such as giving the employees actually doing the work time to live and breathe and not just be workers.

The article is also really weird because it seems to treat Legends: Arceus as something totally divorced from the story of Scarlet and Violet. The writer argued that Legends, given its popularity, might have been better served given a few more months for polish and released Christmas 2022, with the mainline games coming out November 2023, but to say that is to ignore the clear continuity between Legends's design and Scarlet and Violet's. Do we really, like, do we really think that Scarlet and Violet's design was inevitable, that Legends's success did absolutely nothing to contribute to the final decision to make the later games what they are? Is it not possible--or even probable--that the games' performance issues stem from a waffling through initial development on whether the games would even be open-world, and then, given the spinoff's success, a too-late declaration that yes, this is how it now must be?

Regardless, another story in here is that supposed inevitability, the inattention to the detail that the Legends gameplay was reserved for a spinoff until it wasn't. Put another way, the Scarlet and Violet gameplay isn't Pokémon gameplay. I don't know what's making everyone think that open-world games are simply inevitable, as if what's popular is always what will be done, but at the end of the day we always have to consider whether a work of art changes when its fundamentals are altered.

It may sound like a bizarre reference to make here, but consider Elden Ring, another open-world take on a core that to that point had not been. Like it or not, Elden Ring suffers because of its open world design. It doesn't even stand up to Dark Souls III because its design isn't tight, its levels only memorable in terms of thematics, not both thematics and specifics, and the core Souls gameplay feels ever more shoehorned into a game that seems unwilling to accommodate them. Hence the poor field bosses and just atrociously-designed level bosses, particularly the ones that are just... there. Everything fits together poorly. Everything expanded just to make it clear how circumscribed the game is by its design limitations, limitations considered a feature, not a bug, of open-world design.

But I'm a fool for saying that, of course; the game was hugely popular.

I know that a lot of people refuse to make a distinction between what's popular and what's good, but it's a very easy one to make if you're even slightly rigorous. Anyway, just because other open-world games were popular, it doesn't meant that anything and everything should follow that lead. They're not necessarily good fits.

The problem with making Pokémon open-world is the sheer, fundamental cowardice endemic to Nintendo. To make Pokémon properly open-world, it requires expansive changes to the game's fundamentals to even begin to justify the switch. Turn-based battles become utter nonsense; you need to issue real-time commands to a Pokémon. Battles can't be closed; you must be chased, and other nearby creatures must be able to enter the fight. Gyms can't exist. Levels can't work as they used to. In fact, most Pokémon need to become simply and completely non-viable. Friendship, similarly, no longer works, nor do IVs, and EVs don't either. To make it all cohere, it requires a strong, driving narrative force, something that requires roleplay rather than suggesting it; you can't be a child exploring the world but an adult with a purpose who is braving it. At least there's something about the Lands Between that justifies the thematic decision to make them an open space. It is all hostility, with the only safe space set at a distant, impassable remove from the rest of the world.

And finally, there's no way in hell it can be on the Nintendo Switch. You really think there's enough development time in the world to get decent, modern performance out of that piece of trash? That Xenoblade Chronicles 3's best cutscenes look like they could almost pass for a PS4 game is nothing short of a miracle, and that clearly required cutting so many corners everywhere else that it at times looks downright embarrassing. And they couldn't release that game finished, either.

They, and fans, either need to accept that getting what you want means fundamentally and completely altering the very fundamentals of the series you love, so much so as to make it something completely different, or redefine the formula within the bounds of the series's fundamentals and refine them to a sheen. You know, the direction Black and White went in for that brief, lovely period before their direct sequels were released.

But I'm just a hater.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you! 

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro. 

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr​

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr​. All credit goes to her! 

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

 "I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him. 

 "Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls. 

 "Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh. 

 Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there. 

 "How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly. 

 Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have. 

 "Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often. 

 "Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

 Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

 "But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

 "The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

 Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening. 

 Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham. 

 From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully. 

 "Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face. 

 "Baby monk, ya alright?"

 Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her. 

 "Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell. 

 When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!" 

 That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest. 

 "It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe. 

 "Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.  

 Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm. 

 "Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb. 

 Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

 "I did tell you."

 "That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster." 

 And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

 Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

 "I'm sorry."

 She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

 "Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

 "Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

 He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

 "How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business. 

 "Would you like to meet him first?"

 A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

 He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about. 

 He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

 That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached. 

 "Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

 Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her. 

 "Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

 "Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

 "When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

 "Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk. 

 "Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

 Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

 Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

 "Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought. 

 That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

 "You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice. 

 "Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement. 

 "I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked. 

 "I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile. 

 He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

 "No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

 "It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

 Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

 "Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

 The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement. 

 "Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

 She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings. 

 Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared. 

 "No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be. 

 "She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face. 

 "Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

 "Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

 "I will if I must."

 "Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares." 

 Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

 "That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more. 

 As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

 *****

 Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes. 

 During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light. 

 So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time. 

 Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane. 

 Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's. 

 Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met. 

 Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step. 

 On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home. 

 After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench. 

 There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step. 

 *****

 "So, what is going on between you and Cedric?" 

 You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

 "You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

 "Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it. 

 Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it. 

 Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

 "Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer. 

 You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

 If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches. 

 The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else. 

 Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky. 

 A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.  

 "He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence. 

 Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.  

 "Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

 "Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral. 

 Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

 You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own. 

 "But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed. 

 "Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

 Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance. 

 Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

 You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

 "Your mother will let me in."

 "Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

 The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later. 

 Or at least that was what you told yourself. 

 *****

 "What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

 You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal. 

 Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason. 

 When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer. 

 "Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him. 

 "Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

 "Yes." You breathed out. 

 He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

 Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now. 

 "Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

 "Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step. 

 "But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see. 

 That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

 "He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

  As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true. 

 The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes. 

 "If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

 A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

 His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies. 

 As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.  

 "THANK YA, GOD!!" 

 The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness. 

 "Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled. 

 You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be. 

 "Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin. 

 "Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

 Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face. 

 "Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

 Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead." 

 Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric. 

 Just how you wanted it. 

 Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

 He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released. 

 "I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

 That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you. 

 "Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

 He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours. 

 "You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?" 

 It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

 With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry. 

[kainscape]

Slashers with an S/O who talks in their sleep

@chibizombiebehindyou: Could you do the slashers (including Asa and Jesse) with a reader who talks in their sleep?

A/N: Decided to do this in a short prompt type of writing piece so I can practice writing short stories without going way overboard

A/N: okay maybe it’s not as short as I thought but hey, it’s not over 2 pages- yeah no it’s pretty lengthy 💀 and it’s not proofread ‼️

Bo Sinclair

It was a consuming and bone-breaking job that the Sinclair brothers did. Therefore, sleep was never guaranteed. But, with you? You decided on your own that you would keep yourself awake to see Bo come home in one piece. He always brushed your worry off as your so called obsession with him. After a few times of butchering your sleep schedule, it wasn't long before you were fast asleep when Bo retuned home. He made his way up the stairs, shedding his boots at the top. Discarding his mechanic coveralls, he was left in a stained but washed grey t shirt and his boxers. He had heard some quiet mumbling but didn't really look into it. The noise had vanished as he pulled back some of the old cover, slowly resting his body beside you. You had looked dead asleep, your body contracting slow and steady breaths. Exempt your mouth moving and forming words. He smirked, realizing you were taking in your sleep. He had some assumptions about it when you would ask questions with no reasoning. He wasn’t too worried. He propped himself up on his elbow to look over at you. “What do you mean you didn’t see it?! It was as big as your ass dude!” That’s something he’s never heard before. He couldn’t help but genuinely laugh at your behavior, shaking his head until he heard his name. “Well, Bo, what else do you want me compare it to, your dick!? Yeah right.” His face deadpanned, furrowing his eyebrows. He scoffed, turning over dramatically as he rolled his eyes. He faced away from you, biting the inside of his cheek. In the morning, he might tease you or ask questions around what you said. Either way, he’s not bothered by it.

Vincent Sinclair

It had been a long day for the boys and you within Ambrose. What a better way to go to sleep cuddled up together and arise later in the day by Bo? Of course, you were always first within the bed, already dead asleep and dreaming of whatever your mind wander to. Vincent kept awareness of where the creeks were in the floorboards, avoiding them so he could peacefully lay in bed next to your sleeping form. Yet he heard some prominent mumbling coming from you, serving closer and gently easing up the blankets to slip in. He had removed his mask already, carefully turning to face you. You had your arm over your eyes, mouth open and moving from incoherent sentences. But one was clear as day, “I’m convinced Vincent uses Gucci conditioner and shampoo, my god.” You mumbled a few after that but he was utterly confused. Why were you talking about that weird brand you had showed him once, and why did it correlate to your dream?? He shook his head gently, scooting closer and resting his arm across your waist/stomach, pulling himself against your form until he fell asleep to your rhythmic breathing. Sometimes, he’s entertained by your night time conversations.

Lester Sinclair

Your boyfriend had a fairly easy job compared to his brothers, but when there were visitors piling up after one another, it took a whole lot longer to come back home to you and your shared bed. The frogs and cicadas were a whole lot louder than usuals, but it was like a lullaby to you by now. Which queues the small mumbling escaping your mouth. He was quiet when he came, but of course, Lester wasn’t the best at silence. Luckily you were to lost in your dream to realize he was already snuggling in beside you. He had took notice of your nonsense sentences from time to time, not that it bothered him. If anything, it was an entertaining thing to listen to before going to sleep. It gave him a sense of what your brain really thinks of. “Lester… if I dressed up as roadkill… would you pick me up too?” He tried so damn hard to stifle his laugh, his body almost shaking as you formed a stupid grin on your face. Lester took in a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek as he buried his head into the side of your neck. “Sure, hun’” he was sure to keep his words to a hush, taking note to your shared silence. There was a comfortable coldness that covered your bodies compared to the blistering heat outside. What a way to end the day.

Will Graham

Go to work, panic, panic some more and get no sleep. This was Wills routine even with you trying to hassle him into bed. He was always focused on something, or just simply to stubborn to let himself rest for once. But tonight, he had one hell of an excuse. Jack had kept him for a lot longer than both of you would like. But you knew what you signed up for when you accepted to go on a date with Will. You figured out after multiple nights of fruitless attempts at staying up and waiting for your boyfriend, you just gave in and went to sleep on your own terms. This gave Will the opportunity to overthink in peace without the guilt of making you worry. The job had took a huge toll on his physical capacity, leading him to shrugging off his clothing while he made his way to the side of the bed. He rubbed his eye, yawning as he lifted the blanket to the new queen bed you guys had bought, giving more room for dogs and the two of you. He stopped his motions, watching closely as you turned your body towards him. You were mouthing words but they were quiet and blotched. Will slowly slid underneath the covers, feeling his body sink in the end to a relaxed position. He had took not of your sleep talking, not bothered by it. To be honest, he likes to hear what you would say when you weren’t conscious of it. “I wish we had one of those stress powered lightbulbs…” A very quiet and short chuckle made its way out of you, “of course it’s for you, you could probably power Russia with how much stress you have.” And with that, he scoffed and turned the other way, mumbling to himself before attempting to sleep.

Jason Voorhees

Jason always makes sure you’re getting enough rest for your health. He’s adamant about you being your best self with a healthy body and mind. But, he’s never really surprised to see you up waiting for him time to time, honestly he can’t complain. He loves seeing you there in the cabin with the fire still going as you greet him with that beautiful smile. It’s truly warming for him. The rest of the nights, you’re always in the dark comfort of your shared room, resting atop the creaking bed and under the quilt blankets. The cabin door whipped open, quickly caught by the giant hand wrestling against the harsh winter wind. He tried his best to quietly close the door, pushing the lock in place he had added after a break in from a trespasser happened. He observed the room, laying his machete within the kitchen sink after shedding his jacket and laying it on the chair around the wood table. Expertly avoiding the creaks in the floor, he gently pushed open the bedroom door, slipping in without a sound. There was a severely dim light coming from the window, which shadowed over your face just right so he could see you. Jason had took off his boots while he listening to the common small talk from your sleeping form. You guys had decided to look in all the cabins, landing on the jackpot of a bigger bed so you could have more room. Therefore, it wasn’t a huge hassle for Jason to slip into the bed without the alarm of waking you. You were turned away from him, slow breaths from to body. The hockey mask laid on the dusty end table, facing up as Jason looked down at you. A small smile formed on his lips, listening as your talking grew a little more coherent. “Come on Jason, you got all that cake.. and you’re not gonna give me none?” His smile slowly faded, realizing what you meant by ‘cake.’ It ha mentioned before, especially when you went out of your way to slap his ass and look him in eyes to say, “a whole damn bakery back there..” Jason took it on himself to get used to it, not bothered by the comments. He shook his head, inching down so he could pull you closer to his chest, a very strong arm wrapped around you.

Michael Myers

There’s never a sleep schedule with the two of you. There’s times where Michael is out for days at time, retuning only when your asleep and unknowing. There are those very rare times like this one where you’re aware of Michaels presence in the bed while you drift of into sleep. He’s definitely not the type to pull you close or make a move to hold you, but he’s not going to push you away if you wrap yourself around him. Which is where you lay on his chest, listening to his eternally calmed heart beat as you knocked out. It had took a damn long time, but you achieved the privilege of seeing Michael without the infamous mask you grew accustomed too. His eyes usually zeroed in on the ceiling, waiting until he need to close his eyes came. But this time, he looked down at you shifting a bit in his chest, a few words spoken. “I really don’t know how people can’t smell you form your hiding places.. I can literally smell you before you walk in a room.. it’s not a good thing either.” His eyebrows furrowed together, trying to understand why you were composing about how he.. smelled. Yet here you are, your face completely shoved into his chest. He gave you an unimpressed eye roll, turning his head on the pillow for an attempt at some sleep. He found it rather amusing that you would speak whatever you thought without restrictions when you would sleep talk. Something to quietly tease you about.

Jesse Cromeans

He had already experienced your sleep taking, the cameras in his house capturing anything you did. Sometimes you asked questions or said random comments, all that made Jesse smirk or silently laugh. He had also taken notice to the earlier times you went to bed, your stubborn idea to stay up and wait for him dying down. He didn’t mind this, satisfied with your healthy sleep schedule returning. He set the tapes in a box for tomorrow’s checking. Jesse eased open the bedroom door, a small ray of light traveling across the room to reveal the bed you laid in. The black silk sheets covering your sound figure. He pushed the door back closed, taking off all his work attire to be left in his boxers and undershirt. He shimmied underneath the covers, slowly scooting closer to your body. Of course, there were some unconscious words to be shared. “I just realized I’ve got to sleep in every room…” there was some silence before you spoke again, “why?… look don’t even worry about.” There was humorous tone in the last sentence, one that felt oddly genuine for someone asleep. He shook his head, smiling while he took in your scent that comforted him. His hands caressed any exposed skin as the room fell silent, including his mind as you both shared a deep sleep.

Asa Emory

It wasn’t something he really cared to take notice about, never really sleeping at the same time as you due to his large amounts of work he took on. It was to the point he would drift off into a dreamless sleep on his desk. Not that you could really do anything about it with his stubborn view point, so you kept to yourself and went to your bed without him. Well, went to bed also meant brining a pillow and blanket down to Asas work place and sleeping the the chair. You just wanted to feel your boyfriends presence before you fell asleep. He only looked up for a few before looking back down at the scatter of papers, shuffling though some before writing. You made yourself as comfortable as you could get, sighing as you let your body relax. The sleep came easier than expected, the few sniffles sounding in the room letting you know Asa was still there. It was oddly comforting. A flash of worry did strike you, the worry that your sleep talking would annoy him, causing you to have to leave. But it was worth the few bits of it. Asa sighed, running his hand down his face as he battled the tired feeling back. Lending back in his seat, he crossed his arms while looking up to you in the leather chair. Without a warning, a question was asked out loud from you, “What color box would I get if I was one of your butterflies?” He tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows before humoring himself by answering, “Red. To match the original one.” It seems like your dream had answered for you, the words quiet on your tongue as your chest arose slowly. Asa took in another breath before rising to his feet, walking over to you. He brought a hand up to your resting face, his thumb brushing your drink. What a beautiful butterfly you would be.

[ladyelain]

The concept of three brothers x three sisters and why it is problematic

I see the very first encounter between the bat boys and the Archeron sisters as the turning point for Elain and Nesta and the perception of their characters. In two different ways.

How do I put this … I feel like there’s a coherence between Cassian being introduced as an obvious love interest for Nesta and people getting positively intrigued by her character. The idea of Nessian boosted Nesta’s likeabilty immensely. I’m not saying there are no og Nesta stans. However, by the second they met, sjm gave us a clear idea of what their future could potentially look like. Lot’s of tension and they didn’t even have other love interests in the picture. From the start their dynamic has been very typical sjm.

Elain is quite the opposite of a sjm heroine. Most people probably didn’t mind her until she was associated with Azriel. Back in acomaf, everything was poiting towards Az x Mor. 80% of all first time readers probably shipped them. I used to think sjm would throw Elain into some forced love triangle to create drama between Mor and Azriel. I hated it. I hated that apparently Elain’s destiny was to be the other sister for another brother, whom she wouldn’t get anyway.

I feel like that’s when the Elain slender started. Before, she had just existed. Now, all different kinds of fans would give her shit for anything. When Mor was out of the picture for good, people had already started to hate on her for the way she dealt with her trauma, the way she did not deal with the mating bond, the way she was lazy and useless and unworthy of Azriel or Lucien or anyone.

No one could be bothered to acknowledge the fact Elain was coming from a totally different place than Feyre or Nesta. That she liked her human life and had fallen in love with a man who, from the second Elain met Azriel, didn’t pass as a serious match for her any longer, even though they were engaged and we didn’t know what big of an ass Graysen was back then. Elain always had a clear vision of what her future would look like. She always knew exactly what kind of a life she wanted and she took it for herself. Out of the three sisters she’s always been the most stable in her beliefs and dreams and opinions. Yet people say she has no personality. That she’s boring, lazy and dumb.

This is was makes the three brothers x three sisters concept so problematic for me. It practically leads you to draw parallels between them and compare them to each other which is so incredibly wrong. Especially because it only ever happens with the sisters. I’ve never seen a person compare Azriel to Cassian. Or Cassian to Rhys. The thought alone seems ridiculous because they’re so different.

The amount of expectations people find for Elain will never fail to amaze me.

At the end of the day, it’s not Elain’s purpose to fill the role of the third sister. It’s not on her to hold Nesta’s hand or be Feyre’s shadow. She’s never asked to be the side character in Azriel’s love drama. She doesn’t owe Lucien to reject or accept the bond. She’s not meant to be a badass warrior.

Will you ever let Elain just be Elain?

[jjmaybud]

bring her home to dad | rafe cameron

summary: BJ’s every parent’s nightmare and rafe brings her home to ward.

pairing(s): rafe cameron x fem!oc, platonic!sarah cameron x fem!oc, platonic!wheezie cameron x fem!oc.

word count: 5.17k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, fluff, angst, ward cameron.

author’s note: i’ve had this idea for a while and it was originally going to be a reader, but i have a lot of ideas for this oc and rafe that may or may not be a coherent story. i don’t know, we’ll see where it goes. this is an au where there isn’t any treasure hunt but like rafe still does coke and dropped out of college and sarah and john b end up dating. no season 2 spoilers! Also, the house they use in the show for Tanneyhill (it’s real name is Lowndes Grove) is actually so beautiful omg you can rent it for weddings!

BJ Bentley was in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s truck on her way to his house for the first time. Though she’d been in a relationship with Rafe Cameron for the past few months, she understood the reservation he had to take her to meet his father. The dark tattoos all along her sun kissed skin and the style of her clothes definitely scared every one of her partner’s parents. It was especially worse when their parents were hard on them, and they tried everything to live up to their expectations. There were times when someone she was interested in brought her home just to scare their parents when they weren’t interested in her as well. It wasn’t like that with Rafe. For one, he was completely freaking out in the driver’s seat next to her as he drove to his house. And two, he told her from the beginning that he had to be in love with her to bring her home to Ward Cameron.

Well, he was in love with her. And she loved him, too. That’s why she was completely calm in the passenger seat as she waited patiently to pull up to the historic house. Rafe’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he was hyper aware of the world around him. Quick hits on the brake and too sharp of turns were a clear indication of his nervousness. BJ reached across the center console to take hold of his right hand. He gave it up to her with little hesitation, and she intertwined their fingers while bringing the back of his hand to her lips. The soft kiss released a bit of tension in his shoulders.

“We don’t have to do this today,” she said against his hand. He immediately shook his head at the idea.

He said, “No, I already told him you were coming today. He’s got Rose making her special meatloaf for the occasion.”

BJ placed their hands down on the console and smiled.

“I love meatloaf.”

He nodded, his mind still somewhere else, and stated, “I know. I told her.”

Rafe stopped the truck at a stop sign. With no one behind them, BJ reached her free hand up to his cheek and turned his head towards her, forcing him to meet her eyes. She smiled softly when he leaned into the palm of her hand.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ve dealt with plenty of parental disappointment. He might be a little harder on you, but he’ll let it go eventually.”

He smiled and kissed the palm of her hand before turning back to the road. As he pulled forward from the stop sign, she placed her outreached hand on his forearm to run her fingers up and down the prominent vein.

He said, “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

BJ’s hand stilled at his words, and she stared at the side of his face as she tried to think of any other reason he’d be so nervous.

“I don’t want him to scare you off,” he added as he avoided meeting her eye.

Her lip jutted out as she cooed, “Aw, Honey Bunch,” his eyes rolled and lip turned up at the pet name, “you don’t have to worry about him scaring me off. You’ve had plenty of chances to do that.”

Rafe laughed mockingly and reached over to squeeze her thigh. She laughed loudly as she tried to pull his hand off of her. When she managed to wrench his hand away from her, she reached over and poked his side which only resulted in his hand gripping her thigh again.

“Rafe Cameron,” she said in a firm tone, making him laugh. “If you don’t stop, I will knock you the fuck out.”

He didn’t stop. It took him almost side swiping someone’s car for him to let go of her and return his hand to the steering wheel.

“That’s what I thought,” BJ quipped but screeched and lifted her leg away from him as he pretended to reach for her thigh again.

The rest of the ride was silent aside from the music playing from the radio. Eventually, the sound of the turn signal interrupted the melodies of the song as they waited for the car in the other lane to pass to turn left into Tanneyhill. Trees blocked the view of the house from the gate, but she could see peaks of a white house with many windows. As they drove up the driveway and passed the trees, she could see the beautiful house in it’s full glory. The house itself was beautiful on it’s own, but the surrounding view made it stunning. She could see the expanse of the water over to the left while an expansive yard of trees veered to the right.

“Home sweet home,” Rafe muttered as he pulled into a parking spot next to someone’s car. He turned the engine off and unbuckled his seat belt but didn’t make a move to get out. BJ unbuckled her own seat belt and waited. She watched as he took a couple of deep breaths before turning to meet her eye. Her lips turned up in an encouraging smile. She leaned forward over the console enticing him to do the same. Their lips met in a soft peck and met a few times more before pulling away for good.

The couple got out of the truck at the same time and met at the back. BJ let Rafe stair up at the house before reaching her hand out for him to hold. He huffed a heavy sigh before taking her hand in his. On their way to the front door, BJ stopped walking. If he didn’t have her hand in his, he probably would have kept going. He stopped, their hands extended, and watched her eyes widen.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Her eyes moved from the house to him, and she said, “I’m going to meet Wheezie!”

Rafe released a relieved sigh as he let his head fall back with his eyes closed. The hat on his head nearly fell off as it’s bill hit the back of his neck. BJ laughed as she stepped closer to her.

“Don’t do that to me,” Rafe mumbled as he let her pull him along. When they got closer to his front door, he took the lead. He led her past the front room and into the main part of the house. They took a few turns before reaching a decent sized kitchen. As an old house meant to be preserved, it lacked the open floor plan most modern day houses choose to do. While some rooms were spacious, it felt very choppy as they moved through the house. Even the kitchen was cut off from the dining area. The only person in the kitchen was a blonde woman who was definitely not Sarah Cameron or Wheezie.

“Oh, hello!” The woman greeted as she worked on cleaning off the counters. She stopped at the sight of them and tossed the washcloth into the sink. Her eyes widened once she got a better look at the girl standing next to Rafe, but BJ took it in stride as she let go of Rafe’s hand to go shake hers.

Rafe spoke up from behind BJ, “Rose, this is BJ. BJ, this is my stepmom, Rose.”

“It’s really nice to meet you, Rose. I heard you’re making meatloaf! It already smells amazing,” BJ stated as she shook the woman’s hand. She watched Rose take in the tattoos on the back of her hand and the chain hanging on one side of her skirt, but she pretended not to notice as Rose fixed a genuine smile on her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, too! Rafe mentioned meatloaf was your favorite, so Ward asked me to make my special recipe.”

“Is there anything Rafe and I can do to help?” BJ offered. Rafe started to speak from behind her, but Rose beat him to it.

“Actually, the table still needs to be set, if you don’t mind?”

BJ shook her head and said, “Not at all.” She turned around to Rafe. “You know how to set the table, right?”

Rafe huffed and nodded his head. He turned to the left and led her into the dining room where a long, rectangular table that seats eight people took up one side of the room and a smaller, circular table that seats four people took up the other. He stepped over to the china cabinet and opened both of the doors.

“I can start with the glasses while you get the plates?” Rafe suggested as he looked at her. She nodded and walked over to him. He pointed at a specific set of plates before grabbing the glasses on the higher shelf. A place mat was already placed in front of each seat that was to be used. BJ started on one side as Rafe started on the other. They met at the head of the table, and BJ stared up at Rafe as he refused to move out of the way.

She wasn’t much shorter than him normally, but she was almost nose to nose to him with her boots on. The amused smile on his lips and the quirk of his eyebrow tempted her to do something about him being in her way. With a playful tint in the corner of her eye, she stood on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his lips. His hand found her hip as their kiss lasted longer than necessary. When she pulled away and fell back flat on her feet, Rafe hummed and nodded his head. He patted her hip and stepped out of her way.

“You may pass,” he said, making BJ laugh. The rest of her task went without fail before the two of them placed the silverware out: BJ was in charge of the spoons while Rafe put out the forks and knives. The sound of a man’s voice interrupted the peaceful silence that laid over the air.

“Alright, I got the ice and another bottle just in case. I saw Rafe’s truck outside. Have you already met her?” The man stated as the couple saw him approach the island that Rose was standing next to.

Rose nodded, walked towards her husband, and said, “Yes, I did. They’re setting the table now.”

Ward tried to turn to look at where they were standing, but Rose grabbed the front of his blazer and pretended to fix it while she whispered to him. BJ puffed out a silent laugh as she looked at Rafe.

She whispered, “Very subtle.”

Rafe only had the energy to chuckle once as he watched the two in the kitchen. BJ studied the couple and watched Ward’s facial expressions to gauge his reaction. She noticed the exact moment Rose told him about her...appearance. His head tilted towards his wife in a quick motion to look in her eyes. Rose scolded him swiftly, and Ward fixed his face into a stoic expression. BJ could feel her boyfriend tense from beside her as she watched Ward look to the ground and nod at whatever his wife said.

BJ took the lead, grabbed Rafe’s hand, and pulled him into the kitchen. Rafe tugged on her hand to keep her from intruding on his dad and stepmom’s conversation, but BJ went through this too many times to know it was easier to rip the bandage off right away.

“Hi, you must be Ward! I’m BJ Bentley,” she introduced herself, extending her hand once again. Though he was warned, Rafe’s father appeared to still be surprised at the sight of her. He took it in stride regardless. His eyebrows shot up in delight and a charming smile crossed his face as he reached his own hand out.

Ward greeted, “Ah, nice to meet you, BJ. I have to say I was surprised to hear Rafe had a girlfriend, let alone that he was bringing her home to meet us.”

“Dad,” Rafe said as Rose called her husband’s name in warning.

“Honestly, I was surprised, too,” BJ confessed. “Didn’t think Rafe was the girlfriend type.”

The timer on the oven went off to interrupt the tense conversation. Rose hurried around the island to pull the door open. She used a cooking thermometer to check the temperature inside the meatloaf.

“It’s done. Rafe, can you go upstairs to get your sisters?” Rose asked.

Rafe made sure BJ was okay before reluctantly heading out of the kitchen to the stairs she’d seen on the way inside. She watched him until he disappeared out of the room and turned back to his parents. The brunette tucked her hair behind her ear as she caught Ward staring at the tattoos on her thighs sticking out under her skirt with a disapproving purse of his lips. She turned to Rose, the safer of the two, and offered her help.

“I can take the potatoes to the table if you’d like,” BJ offered as Rose sliced into the meatloaf and placed it onto a large plate. The potatoes were on a similar plate cut into chunks and seasoned so well that BJ’s stomach grumbled at the smell.

Rose smiled and said, “That would be great. Thank you.”

BJ returned the smile and grabbed the plate. Once she reached the table, she placed the potatoes in the center with enough room for the meatloaf. Ward followed her into the room and motioned to the side of the table with only two seats set.

“Rafe sits on this side next to me. Feel free to sit next to him,” Ward said. BJ nodded and stepped around Ward; she noticed then they were about the same height. Since Ward hadn’t pulled his chair out, BJ thought it best to wait to be seated. Her mouth didn’t agree to the plan.

“Your home is very beautiful. It has a lot of history behind it, right?” She inquired as Rose brought in the meatloaf before returning to the kitchen, probably for the drinks.

Ward’s head tilted in interest as he answered, “That’s right. People don’t usually know that.”

“I did a paper on Denmark Tanney in college. As you must know, he was the only person to survive the wreck of the Royal Merchant.”

A light lit up behind Ward’s eyes at the mention of the Royal Merchant. She mentioned offhandedly one day while hanging out with Rafe that she did a paper on the man who built his house after he told her he lived in Tanneyhill. He told her how much his dad loved the house and its history, so she knew she could use that to get on Ward’s good side. She wasn’t worried about whether the Cameron’s liked her, especially not Ward, but she wanted there to be mutual respect between them. From what Rafe has said about his father, she knew she would never like him. But as Rafe’s father, she had a level of respect for him that she wanted to be returned. No matter how the man treated him, Rafe loved Ward and looked up to him. She had to respect that.

“Of course,” Ward replied, his words more genuine than the other times he’s spoken. “It’s what drew me to the house in the first place. Tell me did your research take you to the information about the gold he was able to get off of the Royal Merchant?”

Rose brought in a pitcher of iced tea as well as a cup of scotch on the rocks for Ward. She started to pour a glass of tea for herself as she listened to their conversation.

“Yes, and no one has ever been able to find it. He had letters to his son that a lot of people have picked apart trying to find out where he hid it, but no one’s figured it out.”

“Ugh, dad, please tell me you haven’t bored BJ with your stories about the Royal Merchant,” Sarah Cameron stated as she came into the kitchen. She sent BJ a smile and a wink as she walked to her seat, leaving the middle one between her and Rose empty. Rafe followed in shortly after.

Ward laughed as he shook his head. “Of course not, Sarah. BJ brought it up.”

Sarah’s eyes widened in surprise and put her hands up in surrender. Rafe came to stand next to his girlfriend. Ward and Rose looked at him expectantly.

“Wheezie’s on her way down,” he stated before reaching over to pull out BJ’s seat. She smiled at the gesture as she stepped out of the way.

“Wow, Rafe has manners?” Sarah asked, sarcasm dripping from her words as she sat down. Rafe glared at his sister as BJ stepped in front of the seat. He pushed in her seat as she sat down. She mumbled her gratitude as he sat down next to her. Rose and Ward sat down after the kids, and Rafe took it upon himself to pour himself a glass of iced tea. He offered the pitcher to BJ, and she took it graciously.

The sound of loud steps interrupted the short silence, and a young, teenage girl wearing a bright pink tutu and a sequined, long sleeve shirt. BJ’s eyes widened in surprise, and she turned to Rafe as she pressed her lips together to contain her laugh. Rafe placed his elbow on the table and covered his mouth to hide his smile. From what Rafe told her about his youngest sister, the tutu was out of character for her.

Sarah gasped and said, “Love the tutu, Wheeze.”

“Wheezie, what are you wearing?” Rose asked as the girl sat down next to her. BJ turned back to watch the scene unfold in front of her. Wheezie smiled at her before turning to her stepmom.

Wheezie said with a shrug, “Wanted to try something new.”

“Wheezie, we have a guest. Go upstairs and change,” Ward demanded as he tilted his head back to stare at her down his nose.

“I think Wheezie has a right to dress however she wants,” Rafe said, finally lowering his hand away from his face.

Sarah added, “Yeah, dad, we should let her express herself.”

BJ could see what her boyfriend and his sisters were doing. Wheezie was dressed in an out-of-character outfit to make her brother’s girlfriend feel comfortable wearing the clothes that the older generation deemed unacceptable. Rafe and Sarah were helping coax their parents into understanding why she wore the clothes she did. It warmed her heart to see it. Wheezie didn’t know who she was, they’d never met before, but she was doing this because she loved her brother. Sarah and BJ had known of each other before she started dating Rafe because they went to the same parties.

“Also,” BJ spoke up, “I really don’t mind. I think you rock the tutu, Wheezie, and those sequins really bring out your eyes.”

“Thank you, BJ,” Wheezie said before she turned to her father expectantly. Everyone turned to him to see his reaction. Ward Cameron sighed as he stared at his younger daughter.

“Fine.”

***

“So, BJ, what are you studying in college?” Ward asked as he sipped on his second glass of scotch. The men finished their plates as well as Sarah while the rest of them were still working on finishing their potatoes and little bit of meatloaf. BJ complimented Rose on her recipe after the first bite once she tasted the burst of flavor on her tongue. She talked to Wheezie about a new movie that was coming out. Apparently it was a part of a series that the young girl really liked, so she told BJ the synopsis of the first movie and invited her to come over to watch the first two movies together. Most of dinner was Rose and Ward alternating asking BJ questions about herself or Sarah telling everyone what she’d been up to for the day and what she was planning to do in the next couple.

BJ took her time swallowing the potato she’d been chewing and answered, “Actually, I finished college last year.”

Ward and Rose’s attention perked at the sound of that.

Rose asked, “I thought you said you were the same age as Rafe?”

“She is,” Rafe answered. “She finished her Bachelor’s degree in business, right?”

He looked to her for confirmation. She nodded.

“I started taking a lot of my general education credits my junior year of high school and took more business centered classes in the summer,” BJ said, turning to Ward and Rose. “By the time I graduated high school, I was a junior in college.”

Ward appeared to be impressed with what he was hearing and asked, “So, are you working now or have you decided to do something else?”

“I am. I work with my mother in her real estate investment business. I’ve always been around the office, even interned there the summer after high school graduation, and that’s how I knew I wanted to have a career in business.”

“I have to admit that’s pretty impressive,” Ward said and stared at his son. “I wish Rafe had as much drive as you do.”

BJ looked to Rafe to see him stare into the bottom of his glass that only had chunks of ice at the bottom. She could tell by the pout of his lips and his slouched shoulders that the comment hit a little too hard. Without allowing the others to notice, she reached under the table to place her hand over his on his lap.

“Rafe has plenty of drive,” BJ defended. “He’s just got to figure out where he wants to put that energy. Calculated energy is better than wasted energy.”

Ward only hummed in response. She finished her plate without any interruption. Rafe and Sarah grabbed everyone’s empty dishes. BJ helped Rafe stack all of the plates before Ward asked Wheezie to show their guest around the house.

“Yeah, BJ, I’ll show you Rafe’s room first since you’ll probably spend a lot of time there,” Wheezie said as she pushed her chair out to stand up.

Rafe stepped back into the room and scolded her, “Wheeze. Shut. Up.”

BJ laughed and stood up to follow after Wheezie. She patted Rafe’s shoulder as she passed him. Wheezie talked the entire time as she showed the older girl every room in the house. Most of the stories included embarrassing stories about Rafe.

“The rug right here?” Wheezie pointed out as they stood in the hall leading to the stair and outside of Rafe’s room. “Rafe tripped over it running out of his room and almost busted his chin going down the stairs. Luckily he stopped at the turn or he would’ve broken his arm.”

BJ shook her head and asked, “When was this?”

“Last week.”

The two giggled at the news, and Wheezie took her up another set of stairs. BJ followed her into a room that was clearly hers. It was a typical young teenager room with a few posters and brighter, mismatched colors.

“The tour is now over, please don’t forget to tip your guide and remember to visit again,” Wheezie said in a highly comical, animated voice. She worked on taking off the tutu as BJ looked around the room. It wasn’t a big room, but it was large enough to hold everything her heart desired.

“Is she your favorite artist?” BJ asked, pointing to a small poster of Taylor Swift next to some, what BJ could assume were, lyrics.

“Of course, she’s a lyrical genius,” Wheezie said, and BJ could tell how much the girl looked up to the artist by her voice. “Who’s your favorite artist?”

A sheepish smile was brought to her lips and turned to Wheezie. The youngest Cameron was sitting on her bed against her pillows, and BJ went to sit on the edge near her.

BJ said, “So, this may come as a shock, but I love Whitney Houston.”

Wheezie’s head tilted forward in surprise as her eyes widened. BJ laughed. The former girl looked down at BJ’s clothes and tattoos before looking back up to her with narrowed eyes.

“There’s no way. You definitely listen to classic rock like Nirvana,” Wheezie said.

“Okay, Nirvana is definitely not classic rock. Whoever told you that lied to you. And yes, despite my looks, Whitney Houston just hits the spot.”

Wheezie laughed and said, “I can’t wait to tell Rafe.”

“Hah,” BJ mocked and hit the girl lightly on the leg, “he already knows.” She hopped off the bed and headed for the door. “I’m going to go find him. I just take the stairs all the way down right?”

The only response she received was a nod before leaving the room. BJ could hear slightly raised voices drifting up the stairs as she started down them. She could hear Rafe’s voice but couldn’t make out any of his words.

Then, clear as day, she heard Ward’s voice, “I don’t care, Rafe! Think about what people will say when they see you with her. What they will say about our family.”

“You didn’t say this to Sarah when she brought John B home,” Rafe countered.

“John B doesn’t dress like she does and doesn’t have tattoos up and down his arms! I don’t care if you love her, you-”

Suddenly, it was quiet as BJ stepped on a particularly creaky stair. Not that she was quiet on her way down, but they didn’t hear her over their yelling. As she came down, she saw Rafe, Ward, and Rose through the doorway into the kitchen standing in awkward silence as they waited for her.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” BJ said as she walked towards the three of them.

Rafe started to talk, “BJ, I’m sorry-”

BJ held up a hand to stop him.

“You don’t have to apologise, Rafe. It’s not the first time I’ve walked in on an awkward conversation with my boyfriend’s parents. I just hoped your father had enough respect to talk to me about it.”

She smiled a sickeningly sweet smile as she met Ward’s eyes. Rafe said her name and offered for them to leave.

“And I wish my son had enough respect not to bring you home,” Ward said as he took a long drink of his scotch.

BJ’s smile didn’t falter at his words as Rose sharply said his name.

“You know, Ward, a person can always change their clothes,” BJ informed the older man and motioned to her own clothes. “Hell, on a normal day, I don’t typically wear this. I only wore it now so you could see the ‘worst’ of it and learn to get over it. I understand your reservations on tattoos. It’s not everyone’s preference. I, for one,” BJ stepped over to Rafe and motioned to his bare arm, “love the blank canvas that is your son.” Rafe muttered an “oh, my god” at her words. “But you should never judge someone’s character for what they decide to do with their bodies. It’s their actions you have to pay attention to.

“Your actions, specifically, have told me that you are a very insecure man who tries to keep the image of his perfect family intact to hide the fact that he feels like an imposter in the life he’s created for himself.” Ward stood up straighter and set his glass down forcefully. Rose put her hand on his chest to stop him from taking a step towards BJ. “The only reason I’m saying this to you is because, although I do not like you one bit, I have respect for you. I know who you are, Ward Cameron. Started on the other side of Outer Banks and, through hard work and sacrifice, you made it to Figure Eight. You raised a beautiful family despite hardly being there for them emotionally. Anyone can respect someone who has managed to do that for themselves.”

Ward scoffed and interrupted BJ’s tangent, “I let you into my home, and you decide to speak to me like this in the name of respect? My actions have told you all of this about my character? Through one dinner?”

BJ shrugged and simply said, “I minored in psychology. And I’m sorry if you find what I’ve said to be disrespectful. I found you talking about me without me present to be disrespectful. I love your son whether you like me or not and as long as he still feels the same way, we’ll have to treat each other with mutual respect.”

Rafe’s hand slipped into hers. Through their interlaced fingers BJ felt his grip tighten as he stood up to his father. With her other hand, she reached out for a handshake. Ward stared down at her hand for a moment before looking at Rafe. Another squeeze on her hand. Ward and BJ locked eyes. He sighed and reached out his hand. A firm handshake, and the two were on their way with Rafe saying over his shoulder he might be back later.

Her boyfriend practically dragged her out of the house and to his truck. The sun was already set, so the lights around the house were the only thing to light their way to Rafe’s truck. The overhead lights inside turned on and off as they got in. The dash light lit up Rafe’s features as he turned the ignition over to start the engine. BJ watched as he sighed heavily and fell back against his seat, and she reached over to grab his hand again.

“I almost shit myself when you called him insecure,” Rafe confessed, making her laugh out loud. “I thought he was going to kill us both.”

BJ leaned over the console and said, “But he didn’t.”

He opened his eyes and turned his head without lifting it to look at her. Pieces of his hair fell onto his forehead, and she smiled at him as she studied his face. A sweat had broken out on his face and neck, but it was slowly drying in the cool air of the truck’s air conditioning.

“No, he didn’t.” BJ watched his soft lips as he spoke.

“Now, the worst is over.”

He nodded. “It is.”

BJ’s free hand reached up to the back of Rafe’s head and pulled his face towards hers. Rafe didn’t put up any fight as he leaned into the kiss. She pulled away with a sigh, and the boy moved so he could comfortably lean against the console as she played with the hairs at the back of his head.

“Wheezie’s cool,” BJ admitted. “She told me a lot of embarrassing stories about you.” Rafe rolled his eyes. “Something about you and a rug followed by a small tumble down the stairs.”

Rafe shook his head and said, “I have just as many embarrassing stories of her.”

BJ smiled.

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

[cherriesfineline]

Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

&

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

&

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

&

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

[yeshallbeasgods]

"Please stop reducing his role in this relationship to either a pointed criticism on toxic Decepticon masculinity or a beaten-down hooker with a heart of gold archetype, he is so much more than this." YES. GOD YES. tbh there's only two versions of drift, I GENUINELY love and they're both from some really good fanfic writers lmao. also, + drift being the uwuw young pining guy while ratchet is hrumpy resistant guy. GOD. they're both nearly the same age yall.

I'm gonna need you to provide links to these versions, please. I want to know more. For science. 👀

Seriously though, JRo Drift and McCarthy Drift aside, I tend to split Drift up into four versions: pre-war Drift, Wing era Drift, Wreckers era Drift, and MTMTE Drift. They form a somewhat coherent character arc but the sudden shifts in writer and context still keep them pretty distinct, IMO. Technically I should also throw Deadlock in there for flavor but Deadlock doesn't get a ton of screentime, which is probably why so many people write him weird.

Anyway, I get where both 'struggling with toxic Decepticon masculinity' and 'beaten-down hooker with a heart of gold' Drift come from. It's just that the backstories that made both of these archetypes seem plausible also seem like they should cancel each other out. Yes, Drift has been around the block a lot, he's older than Megatron. Hell, he's probably older than Ratchet, which says something about the way Ratchet's condition declined during the war since Ratchet functionally died of old age and Drift still looks pristine. The point is, Drift is tired and angry at the world and he doesn't trust easily. He's also very much someone who fell victim to a toxic ideology because it empowered him and seemed like it would change the world he hated. And for a while, it did! Then Megatron went off the rails and Drift got swept up into a crusade that ended up a shallow parody of itself. By the end, it seems pretty clear that the Decepticon movement is no longer what it was meant to be, and even if Drift still considers himself a Decepticon, he doesn't want to be associated with what the label has become. Also, he didn't need anyone to rescue him from Megatron, once he thought things through he just got the hell out of dodge.

It is very tempting to make parallels between Decepticons and vulnerable young men struggling with internalized toxic expectations! But setting any unfortunate implications aside, Drift is the wrong character for that kind of metaphor IMO. And it's because of those years of experience and that beaten-down cynicism that the toxic masculinity parallel doesn't work. It makes perfect sense for Decepticon MTOs to struggle with that kind of inner conflict, but Drift's primary issue seems like it's always been the weight of the atrocities he endured and committed in the war. And the realization that he carried that weight for no reason, because the war ended up being about winning and supremacy instead of changing the world.

Yeah, Drift pining is fine and understandable, but he is... not a very emotional person, is he. He tries to act like one in MTMTE but the facade slips every once in a while and then he's repressing all his feelings again. Meanwhile, Ratchet is 100% more likely to act on his emotions but he pretends to be grumpy and resistant. When will fans stop falling for both their acts...

[starks-hero]

His Last Vow

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Request: Hey! I just adore your writings, thank you for existing. ❤ I watched Sherlock 4x01 yesterday, and I just can't get over what happened there. I'm truly afraid what will happen next... So I thought if you could write a fic about this episode. I mean something like this: after all what happened in the Aquarium, S. goes home to Y/N, his girlfriend, totally fallen apart, trembling, then he starts like... and destroying everything at home, and Y/N tries to soothe him, crying, fluff etc. THANK YOUUU <3 - anonymous

Summary: You can't stop Sherlock from falling apart, but you can certainly help pick up the pieces.

Word Count: 1,725

Warnings: lots of angst with some compensating fluff, a very brief mention of Sherlock's drug use, Spoilers for 4x01

“Come on, pick up!” You yelled as Sherlock's phone once again went straight to voicemail. You'd been trying to get through to him for over an hour and your worry was slowly melting into frustration.

It had been a few hours since he'd left the flat to ‘think without any distractions’, but you didn't take into account that he'd be gone this long. You knew this case meant more to him than most, especially considering it concerned Mary, which made you all the more worried.

You tried calling him once more, but when you were greeted with the same blunt voicemail, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

Grabbing your coat, you pulled Mary's number up on your phone. You attempted to calm your anxious mind by telling yourself that Sherlock had probably just dragged John off on some side case. And if anyone was going to know where the boys were, it was Mary.

Just as you pressed ‘call’ and opened the door to leave, you were greeted by the familiar sound of footsteps on the stairs. You sighed in relief.

“Where have you been? I was starting to get-,” Your voice died down in your throat when Sherlock entered the flat.

His chest was heaving and his body trembled, his cheeks were stained with tears and his eyes resembled those of a scared child. He looked completely distraught.

“Sherlock?” Your voice was timid as he entered the flat. You studied him carefully before reaching out for his hand. You stopped a few inches short. Sherlock's gloved hand, along with the once white sleeve of his shirt was now stained in a dark crimson red. Your heart fell out of your chest when you realised what it was. Blood.

“Sherlock,” your voice wavered. “What happened?”

You didn't receive a reply. Sherlock's back was to you, but you could still clearly see his struggle to breathe as his shoulders tensed. He pulled off his gloves slowly, hands shaking.

The room was deathly quiet. And then it wasn't. Whatever had happened, whatever Sherlock was feeling, whatever he had pent up inside came out all at once in a blind rage.

One sweep of his arm sent several books and heaps of paper flying from the desk, he brought his fist down on the tables top so hard you swore you heard the wood splinter. Several more books were pulled from the bookcase and not even the sentiment Sherlock held for his skull was enough to stop the youngest Holmes from picking up the human remain and chucking it across the room. His rage continued to the kitchen as the table was completely overturned, any unfortunate glass or cutlery that had been left on its surface shattering into ceramic shards as they met the cold floor. One of the cupboards was almost completely taken off its hinges. And through all of this, Sherlock cried.

You watched on in shock, frozen to the spot as you watched Sherlock destroy anything he came in contact with. No matter how much your mind yelled at you to do something, to move and comfort the man you loved, the horror kept you glued to the spot. Whatever had happened, had destroyed Sherlock entirely. You weren't entirely sure you'd be capable of dealing with it.

You were pulled from your frozen state as Sherlock turned his anger to the flat door. His fist connected with the wood. Once, twice, over and over. The timber was splintering and Sherlock's knuckles were bloodied, but he didn't stop. He just kept going, his strangled shouts tearing at your heart.

“Sherlock,” You approached him slowly but with unfaltering trust. Despite the violence you'd just witnessed unfold in the flat, you weren't afraid of Sherlock, not for a second.

“Hey, hey-,” Your hand brushed his shoulder but it didn't lessen his assault on the door. “Sherlock, stop it.”

Blood was flowing freely from his knuckles down his fingers in bright crimson lines.

“Stop it!”

Grabbing hold of his shoulder and forcibly pulling him away from the abused piece of wood. He struggled against you, attempting to push you away, but despite being taller and stronger than you, you managed to hold your ground against him. (The bloodied hand, sprained wrist and potentially broken fingers weren't playing in his favour.)

“Let me go!” Sherlock's tone was heart-wrenching, his voice hoarse from the shouting he'd done moments before. His vocal cords were spent. “Let me go!” He continued to struggle against you. His voice no longer resembled that of the stoic, detective you'd fallen for, but of a terrified child that had witnessed something they shouldn't have. “Let me-”

Sherlock's harrowing shouts broke into distressed sobs. He stopped fighting and allowed himself to collapse against you. The tears dampened your skin as Sherlock buried himself into the crook of your neck.

Sherlock's legs gave way and he was sent to the ground, you went with him. He clutched onto you for dear life, fingers clutching at your shoulders so tightly you could feel his nails digging into your skin. He was holding you so closely against him it was beginning to constrict your ability to breathe. But you didn't complain. You just kept running your hand through his hair and doing your best to soothe him.

You had never seen him in such a state. In fact, you'd never seen anyone in such a state. Everything you'd been through with Sherlock, the cases, the drugs, all of it and you'd never seen an outburst that could even begin to compare to the magnitude of the one you'd just witnessed.

“Sherlock,” you managed after a while, your own voice trembling slightly. “What happened?”

His voice wavered, sobs wracking his body. You ran your hand through his hair again.

“Hey, look at me,” your hand gently caressed his cheek and wiped away stray tears, your thumb catching them as they continued to fall. “It's okay, whatever happened, it's okay. Just talk to me, Sherlock.” You masterfully hid your worry beneath a gentle tone as you urged him to continue.

Sherlock swallowed down a rising sob and managed to choke out a somewhat coherent answer.

“Mary,” he cried. “She's dead.”

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Tears formed in your eyes as the world shattered around you at the revelation. When you finally exhaled, reality hit.

Sherlock broke again and this time, you broke with him.

You cried into Sherlock's shoulder. You cried for Mary, your best friend. You cried for John, who'd lost his wife and for little Rosie, who'd lost her mother. You weren't quite sure just how long you spent weeping, all you could hear was the same two words playing on repeat in your mind. ‘She’s dead’.

You were only pulled back to what was left of your reality by the sound of Sherlock's distraught voice.

“It's-It's my fault!” Sherlock cried and you swore you'd never heard anyone sound so broken. “I killed her.”

“Sherlock,” you tried, expression falling when he flinched away from your touch. “Sherlock, please.” You carefully slipped your hand into his and he grasped onto it like a lifeline. “Listen to me. You didn't kill her. Mary, she-” you couldn't find the words to finish.

You knew Sherlock was lying, you may not have known the whole story yet but you knew Sherlock hadn't killed Mary. But he was blaming himself, and you couldn't allow him carry that kind of weight.

“It's going to be okay, I promise. We'll- we'll figure it out.”

You knew your words were empty. Mary was dead. The life you'd known yesterday was gone. It wasn't going to be okay, not for a long time if ever. But you needed to say something, anything, to help ease the heartache you were both feeling. You had to be strong, for him.

“I promised,” Sherlock's voice had been reduced to a whimper. “I- I promised I'd keep her safe.”

Having no other empty promises to offer, you did the only thing your distressed mind would allow. You pulled Sherlock against you and held him close. He sobbed into your shoulder, completely inconsolable.

“It's okay,” you comforted, holding the pieces together as Sherlock broke in your arms. “It's okay, I'm here.”

You glanced around the wreckage of the flat. Both your belongings were strewn along the floor, mostly in pieces. But none of that mattered, not now. At the moment there was only one broken thing you were focused on fixing.

Wordlessly, you stood. Sherlock's hold on you tightened, almost as if he feared you were leaving him. But a comforting hand grasping his own eased his worries. You pulled him to his feet and together, navigated across the treacherous kitchen floor that was covered in broken glass.

You pulled the first aid kit from the cupboard and Sherlock caught on, obediently seating himself in one of the chairs that had remained standing during his outburst.

Your fingers gently caught Sherlock's wrist and drew his hand close to you. First, you washed away the blood and then pressed the disinfectant wipe to his knuckles. Sherlock didn't react.

You sniffled as you worked, wiping at your eyes. Sherlock made no comment, his own tears were yet to stop. Focusing on Sherlock's injury and the task at hand was currently the only thing stopping you from breaking again.

You dried the wound and bandaged it up, not that it was necessarily needed, but it was something to focus on.

When you finished tending to the injury, you didn't let go of Sherlock's hand. You sat together for a moment, the silence deafening.

You glanced at him through blurred vision. His eyes reflected what you were both feeling. You were both broken. Mary, your best friend, was gone and the family you'd both found had been torn apart.

Sherlock pulled you into him, his strong hold suggesting that he didn't plan on letting go anytime soon. You held him just as tightly.

You sat together amidst the wreckage, mourning both Mary and the life you'd both had just hours earlier. You'd both lost your best friend and you knew the fallout would be unimaginable. But for now, you had each other, and you hoped that would be enough to make it through what was to come.

~~~~~~

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