#ps just because i’m not going to discuss it doesn’t mean i am not following it

[sleepywolverine]

Despite the fact that the two people I spend most of my time obsessing over are now stuck in the middle of this mess, I will continue to provide no comment on it. My Tumblr is not going to be a place where I discuss celebrity drama whatsoever. It’s this kind of thing that caused me to take a break from this site back in January. If you want to discuss the case, do it with someone else. c0smic-coral and all of its side blogs are neutral.

[textsfromthetva]

I come to confess my sins 😅 I have mixed feelings with Brad, a kind of love-hate and I don't know if it's because I'm easy to convince or because I'm a simp of fictional men. I mean, when I first saw him I thought he was irritating and not that attractive to me, but with the following episodes with that uniform and that hair (even that sassy but funny attitude) I admit that he got me. But there are really attitudes that I can't stand (like how he seems to care more about himself than about others and as an empathetic person that I am, that annoys me) but seeing that people love him (very few tho) made me change my mind lol

PS: His new hairstyle definitely looks much better on him, I don't know why.

Yes! A convert! Welcome to the team.

And since you brought up the hairstyle, and there's several bits in my fic that discuss that, you get a little taste:

He had drawn up a whole list of possible scenarios for this confrontation, and how he would respond in each of them, but Brad does not react as X-5 would have expected. He doesn’t seem freaked out at all, he seems... curious.

“Well, aren’t you a handsome devil,” he drawls, taking a deep drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke out through pursed lips.

X-5 snorts. Ah yes, there’s the vanity he has been observing, that he himself has been criticized for back at the TVA for the last thousand years or so. “Hello, Brad.”

Brad tilts his head minutely, stepping closer. “I’ve got to admit, it’s been a long time since I had a dealer spike my drugs with hallucinogens, but this is some good stuff.”

“You’re not hallucinating,” X-5 says.

“Is that so?” He moves closer still, and for a split-second X-5 thinks he’s going to touch him to confirm his corporeality. Instead, Brad changes course at the last minute, circling X-5 to take him in.

His instincts, honed by eons of fighting dangerous Varients, are telling him to turn around, to not let himself get flanked, to prepare for an attack, but he also knows it won’t be coming. Brad isn’t the type to physically assault someone. They differ in that regard. He still finds himself squaring his shoulders and drawing himself into his full height.

Brad notices. “Ah. You’re not me.” He comes back around, eyes roaming shamelessly over X-5’s body before settling on his face. “You’re a soldier.”

X-5 raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The posture,” Brad replies. “And the god-awful haircut.”

X-5 has to fight the urge to touch his hair, to defend the style, but really, Brad is right. It’s the haircut of a soldier.

“So who are you really?”

X-5 shrugs. “Maybe I’m your twin.”

“I’m an only child,” Brad promptly fires back.

“As far as you know.”

Brad gives him a lopsided smile. “Fine. Keep your secrets then.” His gaze travels down X-5’s body again. “What’s your name, soldier?”

----

Actually fuck it, have one more:

----

“You should grow your hair out,” Brad tells him, “You’d look very handsome.”

X-5 laughs, ignoring how irrationally flattered the backhanded compliment makes him feel. “I’d look more like you, you mean.”

Brad isn’t even remotely put off by the comment. “I look good,” he says with no trace of shame. “It’ll soften your features. So would losing the beard.”

“Some of us don’t have the spare time to maintain an attractive permastubble.”

Brad smirks like X-5 just made a damning admission. “I don’t see you having anything better to do.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Sovereign Talks (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil Genre: Bit of angst sandwiched between two pieces of fluff Rating: T for language Notes: Another partially/selectively mute reader story! Again, this is somewhat self indulgent, essentially being a self-insert story with edits to make it better for a wider audience. PS Daniela says some stuff that's kinda insulting, though it's out of misunderstanding rather than poor intentions, and she tries to make up for it. Also, some of the descriptions of the reader's muteness might not make sense to everyone, as I'm essentially describing how it feels for me, personally. Summary: Daniela's favorite servant is sweet, charming, eager to please, all the things she wants from a romantic partner. But there's one detail she's never quite understood. An argument, a discussion, an inevitability.

Try as you might, it was nigh impossible to please your employer. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong, and Daniela Dimitrescu was more than pleased to point it out to you. At least her intentions weren’t severe. It didn’t really bother her if you missed a spot while dusting, or if you accidentally stumbled upon a ‘private’ conversation. What mattered to her, at the end of the day, was having material to tease you with, or ‘bargain’ with. She’d approach you slowly, musing out loud about your chores. Then she’d point out a flaw, smirking ever so slightly, before placing a finger beneath your chin. You’d make awkward eye contact, desperate to get out of the situation.

And then she’d tell you exactly what she wanted from you.

Most days it was simple enough. Or at least it had been at the start, when she first sought you out. ‘Carry these books for me’, she’d say, beckoning you to follow her. ‘Make a copy of this poem so I can return the book to Duke’, she’d command. Every single time you were powerless to refuse. Hell, you couldn’t even say anything if you wanted to. So you did as she asked. In time, you came to realize the truth behind her actions, the center of her motivations: She wanted to spend time with you.

You had been baffled, at first, to connect the dots in such a way. But Daniela made no attempt to hide her feelings, letting her touches linger on your skin, smiling without any cruelty when you were near. Once, she had even covered for you after you broke a vase. When you had tried to protest, hands waving, mouth refusing to speak, she had shrugged you off with a simple ‘you are worth the price’. Ever since then, the two of you had been rather close. Sure, she had never officially asked you on a date, but she had held your hand while the two of you read. And she had held you, swaying back and forth, as music played in a distant room. Then there were the times she caught you in the corridor, pressing you against the wall for a quick kiss… or a long one, that is. Certainly that meant something? Otherwise you’d look quite silly, blushing as hard as you tended to.

Eventually your concerns subsided considerably. It took a long, difficult conversation, however, and an argument you’d never forget…

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

“Have you read Crier’s War yet?” Daniela asked, looking at you over her own book. The two of you were in her personal study, near the library, lounging in peaceful quiet. Well, it had been quiet. At her question you glance up, ensuring you made eye contact before shaking your head no. “I think you’d like it. Impossible love between two people from vastly different cultures, who start out opposed… sounds familiar, hmm?” This time you nod, laughing a little under your breath. Then you’re returning to your novel, oblivious to the way your partner is watching you, her eyes narrowed. When she catches your attention once more, it’s with a question you had hoped she would never ask. “Why don’t you talk?”

Trying to hide your discomfort, you practically bury your nose in your book, refusing to look up at Daniela. In response she grabs your notepad, slowly sliding it closer to you. For every second of silence she moves it another centimeter. With a slight groan you give in, snatching it from her hands, but sending her a glare as you do. Quickly you grab your pen and scrawl her a note. Not an answer, rather a question of your own.

“Why does it matter?” Clearly that wasn’t what she was looking for, as she leans back and gives a groan of her own.

“Seriously? I’m just curious. You can laugh, groan, make other, nice little noises… I just want to know how you work,” Daniela explained, frowning all the while. Admittedly, you understand where she’s coming from. But that didn’t mean that you were terribly comfortable with this conversation. In fact, it’s a subject you’ve been dreading ever since the two of you started ‘dating’. How exactly were you supposed to explain your condition? Especially without being able to talk directly through it?

“It’s complicated,” you write, angling the paper so Daniela can read it from her side of the table. But she only spares it a quick glance, before staring hard at you again. “Fine, babe. My mouth feels like static. My tongue is heavy, and trying to talk is like walking when both your legs are asleep. There’s never not a lump in my throat.” Now she’s reading attentively, frown vanishing, replaced by a confused expression. Shifting awkwardly, you internally pray that she doesn’t have any follow up questions. Alas, there are no gods on your side this day.

“Did something happen? Or were you… born like this?” Daniela asked, watching you closely. Frustrated, you give her a pleading look, hoping that she’d get the message and back off. Instead she doubles down. “We could arrange for a doctor to come out here, if that’s what you need. All you have to do is tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. It’s a multifaceted issue, and-” you have to turn the page to continue writing at this point- “a very personal one. But if you must know, it has to do with my anxiety.” There’s a pause, and for a few seconds you think the conversation is over. The relief that floods your chest only lasts a single moment. Then you’re face to face with Daniela, who’s leaning across the table, eyeing you with an expression you can’t make sense of. Now your heart is racing, leaving you trembling.

“So… it’s not a matter of whether or not you can talk at all? It’s a choice?” Daniela questioned, sounding aggravated. Instantly you’re shaking your head, scowling at her interpretation of your words. “What, you’re saying you can’t even relax enough to talk around me? Your fucking girlfriend?” This was exactly the sort of thing you had been worried about. How could you expect Daniela to understand the way your mind locked your jaw in place? How could she ever realize how terrifying the whole castle was?

“Calm down and let me elaborate, please,” you write, as fast as you can. But Daniela yanks your notebook away from you, tossing it to the side. All you can do is stare at her in shock. This was more than just a misunderstanding, this was her actively sabotaging your only reliable method of communication.

“You want me to calm down? Can’t you see why I’m upset? I just found out my partner isn’t comfortable around me. We could have been talking all this goddamn time! Why haven’t you told me this before? Why haven’t we worked on this?” Daniela was practically yelling now, and both of you had risen to your feet. You’ve backed away a meter or so, only for her to close the space between you, one hand cupping your cheek. No matter how hard you try, you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes. “C’mon, please,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Tears are starting to cloud your vision. “Say something. Anything.”

Wordlessly, you pull yourself from her grasp, too overwhelmed to do anything other than let your feet carry you out of the room. Half to your relief, half to your misery, Daniela doesn’t lift a finger to stop you.

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

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you ‘talked’ to Daniela. Ever since, she had been avoiding you, and you her. Hell, for three days you struggled more than usual to communicate with anyone because you hadn’t dared to go back for your notebook. In the end someone had found you a new one. It didn’t quite feel the same though, considering your normal one had been a gift… a gift from the very person who had taken it away from you. For two weeks it had felt like every single thing was another reminder of your loneliness. You wanted desperately to fix your situation, but had no clue where to even begin. Until an irritated Cassandra hatched a devious plan, that is.

You weren’t privy to the specific details of her scheme, and could only guess as to her motivations (presumably being annoyed by Daniela’s sulking). All you really knew was that one moment you were following the middle child, supposedly to assist her with organizing something, and the next you were being shoved in an unfamiliar room. Inside, Bela was trying to stall Daniela, making up a ridiculous excuse for her to be there. As soon as you entered, the eldest daughter made a beeline (flyline?) towards the exit. Before either you or your girlfriend could process what was happening, the door had been shut and locked, trapping the two of you within.

“What the fuck?” Daniela asked, temporarily ignoring you in favor of pounding on the door. It didn’t budge, unsurprisingly, but someone outside did yell in response. Not that you could make out what the muffled voice was saying. “Ugh, I swear I am going to kill them for this.” Unable to get out, she finally turns to look at you. In an instant the anger drains from her face, replaced with a bittersweet smile. There’s enough tension in the room to weigh the corners of your lips down. It’s getting harder to breathe, and you can’t quite look Daniela in the eyes. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, if they’re going to be assholes, we might as well make the most of it, right?” She asked, voice a million times softer than you would have expected, considering your previous conversation. With that she moves to sit down, gesturing for you to join her.

“Mmm?” You ‘say’, really just making a confused humming sound. For once, you do want to talk. More than any other time you’ve wanted to. But your tongue was caught in the bear trap your teeth represented, preventing almost any sound from escaping. Still, this is a side of Daniela that you do not often see, with how prideful she tended to be. All it takes to get you to move is for her to pat the spot next to her. Then you’re shifting, blushing hard as you lower yourself onto the couch. Not quite ready to meet her gaze, you stare at your thumbs, twiddling them like an anxious child.

“Bela seems to think that I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you,” Daniela mused, more to herself than to you. One of her hands slides towards you, however, eagerly intertwining her fingers with your own. After two whole weeks of isolation… it’s an amazing feeling. “I said something stupid. It’s been driving me mad, and I have no clue what to do about it. Fuck-” she flinches as she speaks, eyes clamping shut- “I just want to fix this. I want you to feel good around me. I want you to feel the same way I do. More than anything, I want to be your safe haven.”

Your eyes meet, finally, as warmth floods your chest. Words fail you, as they are wont to do, so you leave them behind. Instead you reach for your stars- the body of your girlfriend, pulling yourself into her arms. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, you are smiling softly, overwhelmed by the embrace. Soon enough you can feel Daniela rubbing soft circles into your back with her fingers. She presses a gentle kiss to the side of your head, enjoying the hug too much to pull back even the slightest bit.

“Is there anything I can do? Anything to make you more comfortable?” She asked, for a moment not even realizing the difficulty you would have with responding. Finally connecting the dots, she changes the position of her arms, ensuring that you could stay in her lap while still being able to gesture with your hands. Instead of replying, your first concern is to gently cup your girlfriend’s cheek. Then you place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re my everything, you know that, right?” Daniela whispered, sounding almost in awe. Suddenly you’re possessed by a rush of courage, clearly bolstered by her affection, and you move without thinking. You lean back in for another kiss, hand moving to the back of her head for stability.

Both of you are smiling now, even as your kiss gets more intense, the two of you pressing against each other as best as you can. One of Daniela’s hands runs itself through your hair, before taking it in a loose grip. All you can think about is how right this feels. Your heart is racing, especially as your girlfriend switches to an open mouth kiss, letting her tongue slide across your lips. It catches you off guard, and you need to pull back to catch the breath she had so eagerly stolen. Even then you swear you can feel her pulse pounding just as hard as yours is.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” Daniela murmured, embarrassed, worried that you had stopped for a very different reason. In response you shake your head a little, then practically smother her face in tiny kisses. She’s giggling at that, grinning, all of her anxiety fading away. Most of yours does too. Everything feels perfect. So much so, in fact, that you feel something you haven’t felt in almost an entire year: The loosening of your jaw muscles. Clarity unstiffens your tongue, making age-old static clear up. Can I…? You wonder, wanting so desperately to use this opportunity as best as you can. After all, who knew when you’d ever be this comfortable within the castle again. Hell, the thought alone makes you more nervous, and you struggle to think of something, anything, to say.

“L-l… Love,” you stuttered, barely getting the syllable out, mouth feeling incredibly dry, mind racing, hating how it sounds because holy shit you haven’t talked in a year and was Daniela going to hate your voice and forget all about what you were saying and ruin the moment or worse was she going to hate you or thoughts thoughts pounding in your head like a hurricane, because because because-......................... Anxiety, above all else, was an asshole. One that had prevented you from hundreds of conversations, and limited a thousand more. Now, moments after finally speaking, your mind is on the brink of a tear-worthy breakdown. But you’ve said your piece, and by God has it been received.

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!” Daniela cried, equally overwhelmed, for a far different reason. She’s holding you as close as she can, burying her face in your neck. Likewise you rest yourself against her, letting your eyes drift shut, happy beyond description. There were still things you had to talk about, yes, and you would once more have to rely on your trusty notebook. Daniela had a lot to learn, to understand, but this was a start. More than that, it was the first step after the mending of a broken bone. Everything to come would be far, far easier, a labor of love done fearlessly.

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

“Should we open the door now? Or at least unlock it?... How long does it take two idiots to stop being mad at each other?” Cassandra asked, leaning against the hallway wall. Meanwhile Bela had her ear to the door, straining to hear what was going on within. Sure, she had gone along with her younger sister’s plan, but she hadn’t been entirely convinced that it wouldn’t end in disaster. Then again, so far so good. No yelling, no (loud) crying, just some quiet words from Daniela. Maybe they’re working things out, Bela thought, starting to smile. And then she heard something she’d never forget…

“Yes, absolutely, fuck baby, I love you so much!”

“We are not opening that door,” Bela replied, suddenly, her ears burning red. She didn’t know how things had gone from so quiet to so potentially dirty in such a short amount of time, and she did not care. Without even a hint of an explanation, she turned to leave, desperate to get certain mental images out of her head...

[j-amespotter]

★ cardigan - s. b.

“i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired.” 

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

x. x. x.

Summary: Your relationship with Sirius is on the rocks, but you loved him and at the end of the day, he was always there. For your own happiness, something had to change. 

Genre/Warnings: angst, alcohol, language, toxic relationship 

Word Count: ~3k

A/N: this took a lot, and i mean a lot of energy. not sure how i feel about it (i am my worst critic) but i really didn’t want a pushover protagonist. ps... communicating with your partner is hot! let me know what you think (and if you think i should make a taglist) :) 

masterlist

“Ravenclaw girl this time. Blonde… I think I recognize her. Couldn’t see the front of her robes, she might be one of the fifth-year prefects. You know I’m terrible with names. Ask James, he finds it hilarious.”

“You should work for the Prophet, Lils,” you said, without looking up from your toast, which was becoming more and more tasteless with every bite. “What were they doing?” 

“Talking,” answered Lily pointedly. “He ended the conversation fairly quickly when he saw me looking, though.” 

You sighed. This discussion was becoming too routine for your liking, most often with Lily, occasionally with Remus. “Well, if they were just talking, then I don’t see the issue. Lily, it is early. We have double Potions this morning. I really don’t want to deal with your weird suspicions about my boyfriend right now.” 

If Lily sensed your underlying irritation, she chose to ignore it. “I just think you deserve better, that’s all. I mean, James–” 

You finally turned and stared defiantly into your best friend’s vibrant green eyes. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but James is the exception, not the rule. Just because he’s some angel on earth doesn’t mean all boyfriends are like that, and that’s not even considering the fact that he���s been hopelessly in love with you since second year…” 

Huffing, Lily picked at the fruit off of her plate. “Okay, I get it. I won’t bring it up again.” It was sweet how much Lily cared. James doted on her day and night. It would have been easy to forget about her friend’s love-related quandaries. But that was Lily Evans – always considerate of others.

Truthfully, you were tired. You knew what ‘talking’ with Sirius Black entailed. It did not make you feel as secure as you indicated to Lily. As time went on, it was getting increasingly harder to defend Sirius’s overly-careless behavior. If he wasn’t chatting up girls in random corners of the castle, he stood you up on your scheduled study dates in favor of detention with James. There was only a little comfort in the fact that he wasn’t always like this. If he was, would you have even dated him? Deep down, you knew that as much as Sirius was a thrill-chaser, he was incredibly capable of being a loving boyfriend. For that reason alone, you bore the incredibly painful motions of being in a relationship with him. 

He briefly reminded you of his better qualities when you opened your Potions textbook and felt a feathery kiss on your neck. “Guess who?” whispered Sirius sultrily into your ear. 

You couldn’t help the automatic flush that made its way onto your cheeks. “Hmm… is it Remus?” you whispered back, stifling a giggle. 

“Don’t tease,” he grunted before planting a swift kiss on your cheek. He plopped onto the chair next to you and faced you with a lazy grin. “You look disappointed, love. I’m afraid your usual Potions partner is a bit preoccupied at the moment.” He gestured across the room, where you spotted Lily practically hanging off of James’s lap, distracting herself until the start of her favorite class with his lips. 

“They’re hopeless,” you commented airily, in an attempt to disguise your envy. You felt Sirius’s gaze burning into you. “Missed you at breakfast this morning,” you added in a casual tone.

“Oh, well, you know–” 

“No, I don’t know,” you interrupted, bitterness leaking from your clipped voice. You always let Sirius off too easily. “But I certainly can’t wait to hear your ready-made list of vague excuses. Please, do continue.” There. He had it coming. He deserved for you to throw him off track.

“Baby, it was nothing,” assured Sirius rather predictably. “Just Pippa asking for help with Transfiguration. Honest.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock sincerity, which only angered you further. 

Nevertheless, you chose not to argue. He was incredibly brilliant with his words. There was no way he would understand your plight. Instead, you absentmindedly flipped through your Potions textbook as Slughorn finally entered his unruly classroom. 

Sirius seemed uncharacteristically bothered by your lack of response. With a half-glance at James and Lily, he entwined his fingers into yours. “They’re in their honeymoon phase, you know. You really can’t compare.” 

“There is no comparison, Sirius. James prioritizes Lily. I can’t remember the last time you prioritized me,” you whispered. There was a finality in your tone that you hoped he would hear. It was the most you were willing to discuss the matter. 

Sirius Black was a lot of things, least of all oblivious. He gently squeezed your hand. Silently, he slipped his fingers out of yours, choosing to follow your lead and not pursue the issue any further. 

A part of you was proud of the fact that you finally found it in you to voice your concerns to him, but another larger part dreaded the irreversible distance it put between the two of you for the rest of the day. You weren’t necessarily avoiding each other. Though his smiles were significantly more tender, he seemed reluctant to talk, let alone touch you.

Sick of the mental torment you were subjecting yourself to, you stuffed your unfinished Charms essay into your bag and headed to your dormitory, choosing to retire for bed early. Mid-yawn, you spotted a single red rose on your unmade bed. You didn’t have to read the attached note to know who it was from but felt your heart thudding against your chest as you unfolded the small piece of parchment. 

I’m sorry. I love you. 

There was no signature, but you could recognize his meticulously-slanted script anywhere. You stared at the note adoringly before pressing your lips to the corner of the crumply parchment and marking it with the remnants of your lip gloss. 

Suddenly, you were no longer tired. Skipping down the stairs, you found yourself wishing for a certain map that would tell you the exact location of the only person you wanted to see.

Fate seemed to be on your side when you saw him in the common room, his head bowed as if he was praying. “You’re here!” 

He gazed up at you, his shoulders relaxing when he noticed the smile on your face. “I’m really–” 

You didn’t let him finish. You kissed him hard, throwing your arms around his neck. You felt him smile against your lips. Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. “Don’t worry about it. I was being silly.” 

Sirius’s grin widened. “You’re quite low maintenance, y’know. I thought it would take at least a week and a hundred roses. And if not roses, then daisies, sunflowers, peonies… I was ready to pull all the stops. For future reference, a good snog is all it takes to win me over.” 

You laughed heartily, though you struggled to keep up with his train of thought. You always appreciated his good-natured ability to poke fun at the gravest circumstances. “I just missed you.” 

“Me too, darling. I’ll do better this time, I promise.” 

☆

True to his word, Sirius showered you with a level of affection that could rival James’s for Lily. He spent every spare moment with you in his bed, sneaking into the kitchen for secret dinners, and pushing you against bookshelves in the back of the library, homework-be-damned.

On Tuesday night, you sat on the Astronomy Tower. You glanced at your watch, realizing that Sirius was nearly an hour late. Your eyelids were drooping shut. It had been a long day. Everything in your brain felt scattered. You could’ve been catching up on the mounds of schoolwork you were now falling behind on. Sirius… Did he say midnight? Did you hear him correctly? Maybe he meant for you to pencil it in. Maybe he was hurt. Was it Remus? You stared at the sky, peering at the crescent shape of the moon. It taunted you. Stop kidding yourself. He’s not coming. 

Just as you were about to call it a night, Sirius stumbled into the Tower and onto the floor. Startled, you helped him up. “There you are! Are you alright? I was so worried… Are you drunk?” 

His grey eyes shone in the soft moonlight. The cloudy expression on his face paired with the sloppy grin he sent your way spoke for him. “Lost track of time… we snuck into Hogsmeade,” he slurred. “Rosmerta slipped us some firewhiskey. Here, I brought us a bottle...” He reached into his robes, only to come out empty-handed. “Uh-oh… finished it. Sorry, baby.”

You processed his words very slowly, realization dawning on you with the weight of heavy bricks. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

“Hey! We’re all of age.” He threw up his hands in surrender and widened his eyes innocently. “Next time, darling. I promise.” 

“It’s not about the fucking drink, Sirius! You’re here so you obviously haven’t forgotten that we had plans tonight! I don’t care if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, but you should’ve told me. I’ve been waiting here like an idiot for an hour. I’m exhausted!”

“Told you,” he grumbled, now irritated, “we lost track of time.” 

You stared at him, unable to comprehend his complete shift in attitude. “Whatever,” you said finally. “I’m going to bed.” 

Spinning on your heels, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you prepared to march away from him with your chin up. Before you could take too many steps, however, a firm hand grasped your wrist. The intensity of the force pulling you back to him felt so otherworldly that you could hardly believe it was a wasted Sirius. 

You had a fleeting thought of pushing him away but instead tilted your head so he could pepper kisses onto the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over again, between his fluttering pecks along your jawline. 

His lips found yours. His hand released your limp wrist as his fingers gently trailed up your arm. “So beautiful,” he murmured, gazing directly into your eyes. You practically melted as your body fell into his. Like always, his arms were ready to catch you, drunk or otherwise. 

☆

“No Sirius yet?” asked your mother, sipping her drink cheerily.

You refused to look her in the eye in fear of giving something away. “No, not yet. Should be here soon, though.” 

“Better be,” said your father, slipping away from a party guest. “He’ll miss cake.”

It was your parents’ twentieth-anniversary party, an occasion made doubly special as their one and only daughter was now officially a Hogwarts graduate. You had planned the party and made Sirius promise that he would not only attend, but also arrive early to help greet your guests as your boyfriend. 

You knew that your parents did not initially approve of Sirius, but as your relationship strengthened, so did Sirius’s standing in your family. Now, post-Hogwarts, you were desperate to not only show your parents that the two of you were committed to one another but also feel yourself that your love would endure the many challenges of adulthood. 

As the last of your family friends trickled out of your childhood home, you failed to hide your disappointment at his loud absence. Like many months earlier, your mind see-sawed between possibilities, some pathetic, others worrying. You were in the middle of a war, after all. You always believed Sirius’s recklessness would be his downfall. 

Fortunately or unfortunately, your worries subsided when you saw him slip into the parlor with a present in hand and a sheepish smile directed at you and your parents. “Happy anniversary! Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe– hey, where’s the party?” 

“It’s over,” you announced bitterly. 

Your mum and dad sensed the tension and tactfully exited the room. “We saved you some cake, dear,” your mother said to Sirius, after politely thanking him for his present. 

“So,” you started as you heard your parents’ footsteps fade away, “where were you? Actually, don’t answer that. Let me talk first. This was important to me, Sirius. You knew that! What will I say to Mum and Dad? Don’t I matter to you at all? Is it always going to be like this?” 

“Slow down,” whispered Sirius. “I’ll explain everything – just listen! I was with James, okay? We were only mucking around on the bike. I was on the way, I swear! But then these Muggle Aurors – police, they’re called – they started chasing us! We were getting away but these three blokes – Death Eaters – caught up to us. Long story short, we got into quite a scuffle and…” He looked at you in an attempt to gauge your reaction. 

Your mouth hung open as you absorbed his story. Regardless of your anger, he presented a legitimate case for himself that you could not quash. “Death Eaters? Thank Merlin you’re alright. How on earth did you get away?” 

“I’ll tell you everything. Your mum mentioned something about cake?”

You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest. “In the kitchen,” you answered softly. “I wish you would be more careful.” 

He kissed your temple. “Don’t worry,” said Sirius dismissively, “I handled it, didn’t I?” 

☆

“So, what do you think?” 

You and Sirius were standing in the middle of his new studio flat. Primely-located and newly-furnished, it was the picture-perfect bachelor pad. Sirius now had a place to call his own, thanks to a bountiful inheritance from his Uncle Alphard. The walls were bare and the lighting dim, adding an overall sensuality to the atmosphere. 

“It’s nice,” you remarked sincerely, smoothing his plain black bed sheets. You peeked into his wardrobe, smirking to yourself as you noticed it was half-empty. “Lost the rest of your clothes, babe?” 

“No,” answered Sirius quietly. “It’s for you.”

“What is?” 

“The closet space. It’s for your clothes.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“For when I come to visit,” you amended automatically. 

You turned to see Sirius scratching the back of his head. “No, for when you live here. With me.” 

“W-What?” Your mind was reeling. You leaned against his side table to steady yourself. “Me? Move in with you?” 

“Well… yeah,” said Sirius as he slowly regained his signature confidence. “We’ve been together for ages, seems about right. Besides, James and Lily are getting a place together.” 

You did not understand why you weren’t over the moon. It was what you always wanted from him – a tell-tale symbol of his otherwise-flaky commitment to you, a sign of your sparkling love. It was the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, and you were meant to start it together. On paper, it was perfect. There was no explanation for the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Suddenly, the words that would never come were on the tip of your tongue. The answer was clear as day. “No.” 

“What?” 

It was an extremely difficult task to catch Sirius Black off-guard, a feat you used to motivate your argument. “No, Sirius. I won’t move in with you.” 

Shock was written all over his face. “What the hell? Why?” 

“Because… you didn’t even ask me!” 

Sirius stared at you blankly for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Alright… (Y/N), will you please do me the honor of sharing an address with me? Is that it, then? Shall I get down on one knee?” 

“No, Sirius. That’s not the point,” you said firmly. “The point is that you didn’t ask me. You just assumed that I would say yes – don’t interrupt. I know we’ve been together for years, but can’t you see? You make me so incredibly happy and yet, so unbelievably unhappy at the same time. You’re so good to me, and then so horrible, and then amazing again… I can hardly keep up anymore. I’m a fucking doormat and I’m sick of it! It’s humiliating. I’m tired of feeling humiliated in front of people I care about. It’s starting to become too high a price of being in love with you.” 

You ended shakily, afraid to look at him. When you dared, you saw him wearing an unfamiliar expression. The silence washed over you both for an eternity. You had the horrible thought that perhaps this was it. Perhaps, you crossed a line. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how broken you both were, how broken you were, and now… well, he couldn’t unsee it now. You were over. Without a word, you headed for the door with your head down.

“Wait,” shouted Sirius hoarsely. “Don’t go. I-I’m not sure what to say to make you stay.”

“Try being honest,” you whispered weakly. 

He swallowed nervously. “Okay, here goes. I know that I haven’t put enough effort into this relationship… I know that. I realize that I take you for granted and that you deserve better. I don’t blame you for thinking that. I would never have blamed you for thinking that. But here’s the truth – I am so far gone when it comes to you, you have no idea. I am so in love with you. I think about you morning, noon, and night. And the thing is, here we are, fighting for Muggles and Muggleborns and the good of the world… but above all, I am so utterly afraid of losing you. I think that’s why, actually. That’s why I keep you at arm’s length. I don’t think I mean to, but it just happens. Because I’ve never met anyone who loves me as much as you do, not even my mother. Especially not my mother. I’m torn between keeping you close and pushing you away because the truth is, you’ll always deserve better than me. And I’ve always been afraid of you realizing that.”

His truth was careful but sincere. Your hand slipped off the doorknob. Still, it was not the first time Sirius had rendered you speechless. “How do I know you mean it? That it’s more than just words to you?”

“Let me prove it to you,” he said meaningfully, grey eyes glistening. 

You took slow steps toward him, and he embraced you with the hope of filling all the gaps he may have left open. “Okay,” you said, your voice muffled into his shirt. “Just… leave the closet half-empty for a little while.” 

[spiderling-space]

Could I request Yandere Kalim, with Soulmate Au? So Kalim and Reader would be soulmates, and Kalim is yandere for them. I don't mind what kind of soulmate Au, though, it could be timers, names, shared injures.

Although please feel free to reject if you don't want to write this.

I'm going with names since I like that the most.  It became longer than I intended. Around 2,6k words.

PS: Have your individuality in your relationships.

Italics indicate thoughts

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

Kalim Al-Asim

Warning: Yandere behaviour, guilt-tripping, gaslighting (passive), unhealthy relationship

It all started when he saw the tattoo on their forearm. "That's me!" He yelled suddenly, staggering back. He then rolled up his sleeve, "Is this your name?" He asked with such excitement that made (Y/N) think he would cry if they said no.

Nevertheless, it was their name. "Yes."

They didn't think they would meet their soulmate in NRC. After the day they met, (Y/N) asked around what type of person Kalim was. Everyone mentioned how different he was from the rest of school, how supportive he was, how he was there for them when needed, the way he radiates positivity everywhere he went and always having a smile on his face. (Y/N) wasn't going to lie. At first, they thought Kalim was faking it since they had seen similar people turning out to be evil in shows and movies they watched and the books they read. However, their opinion of him turned positive after hanging out together and getting to know each other. He was one of the best people they had ever met, had the brightest smile they had ever seen. No one would be able to resist him once he smiled and looked with those bright eyes. (Y/N) was one of them. Kalim had fun ideas but they had responsibilities to take care of, they couldn't spend their entire time with Kalim. But how could they reject Kalim's idea when he looked so heartbroken after saying they were busy? They couldn't. They got into trouble with the academy for not doing or doing sloppy homework and their friends for not spending time together.

Kalim might be their soulmate but that didn't mean they couldn't spend time apart. (Y/N) promised themselves that they would say no to Kalim the next time he asked to hang out together. They were soulmates who would marry one day. If they didn't set the boundaries now, they wouldn't be able to do it in the future. And they certainly didn't want their future life to turn up like that.

Unsurprisingly, Kalim showed up. "(Y/N)!" He kissed their cheek which was another thing they needed to talk about. "How've you been doing? Let's go carpet ride!" He didn't even wait for their response as he grabbed their sleeve and started pulling.

But no more. They were going to take a stand. "Kalim, stop." He didn't seem to hear them and kept pulling but (Y/N) planted themselves like a tree, unmoving. "Kalim, stop." He didn't even look at them. "Kalim!" That got his attention. "We need to talk. Now."

"We can talk on the carpet! C'mon!" He was ever excited but his smile faltered when they didn't cave in. "Are you upset with me?" He asked, giving them puppy dog eyes.

(Y/N) was glad that he at least understood they were upset. "Yes." his smile turned upside down, it was horrible to see him sad. "No!" He smiled once again. "I mean... ugh! I just..."

"I'm glad you aren't upset with me. Let's go!" 

He must have understood that they were conflicted then why was he trying to dismiss it? It was frustrating him. "No! Fuck! I'm so done! I'm trying to have a conversation with you and you just ignore it! Do I not mean anything to you? Do -"

"You mean everything to me!"

"You did it again! You don't even let me finish!" (Y/N) couldn't stop anymore. It was now or never. "You don't care what I want as long as you get to do whatever you want! I hate it! You are suffocating me!" They pinched the bridge of their nose. "Just because we are soulmates doesn't mean we will be together 24/7. Give me a fucking break!" It felt good to spill everything out but they didn't realize the volume of their voice increase nor the people around staring at them. Damn it! Don't people have better things to do? "Can we talk somewhere private and just... uhm... fix the issue?"

Kalim looked like he was about to cry and he might have shed a tear or two, given that he seemed to wipe his eyes. Thankfully, he agreed and they went to his room for privacy. (Y/N) thought they messed up once and wanted to have a calmer discussion with him. They weren't able to sit, nervous about how he would react once he heard everything they wanted to say since just a small outburst made him teary eyes. "I shou-"

"I'm sor-"

They both spoke at the same time. "I need to tell th-"

"I'm sorry for making you feel as if I don't care for you." Kalim walked over (Y/N) and hugged them. "I promise to be a better boyfriend to you!" He kissed their cheek before letting them go. "Let's play- I mean... Do you want to play Mancala? Jamil would bring us snacks and it would be fun!" He acted as if he wasn't on the verge of crying a second ago and dismissed the issue once more but at least he apologized, that was progress.

Still...

"Kalim," They took his hands and led him to sit on his bed. "Thank you for apologizing but we didn't resolve anything. You dismissed what I feel again." They liked him, he was a good man but he just needed to listen to them. They believed he could change. "I love spending time with you but I have a personal life too. I couldn't do my homework properly for the last couple of weeks and I couldn't hang out with my friends. I need time for them too. And sometimes, I am too tired or I'm not interested in what you want to do. It is hard to say no to you when you look at me with those eyes. Please understand my wish to set personal boundaries." They didn't want to bring up guilt-tripping yet since they thought he would get better after this speech.

Kalim seemed to listen to what they said attentively. They hoped he wouldn't make a fuss about it. They felt better when he nodded. "I see." He pulled them into a hug. "I promise I'll be better for you, (Y/N)."

"Glad that we resolved it. Again, I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier." They hugged him back. "I now have to go and do my homework. See you later!" They untangled themselves from Kalim and headed out to their room.

The next day, Kalim showed up to ask them about another adventure he planned. He managed to convince them to join when he said he would be all alone if they didn't come with him. "I know I am sometimes clumsy, I hope I won't lose my balance and fall. Jamil would be with me normally but he has basketball practice for hours."

(Y/N) didn't want to go hiking with Kalim but if he hurt himself, they would be responsible in a way. They certainly didn't want Kalim to be hurt nor to be guilty of him getting hurt so he agreed to go with him. The following day Kalim came up with a new adventure. "I'd get lost in the woods without you. Jamil and I are both grew up in a desert country. He wouldn't be able to find us a way to return even if he tries. Please come with me to explore the woods so I can return safely with you." (Y/N) agreed to this too, not wanting to cause their soulmate to be lost in the woods.

On the adjacent days, Kalim came up with an idea and told them if they could come with him so that he wouldn't be harmed. They didn't want to feel any guilt if he were to injured so they joined all of them. On the last day, they said no.

Kalim gave them space after that day. (Y/N) thought he learned his lesson. Everything was fine in their life. They were even planning to ask Kalim on a date since they didn't talk for days.

"I've heard that (Y/N) tried to carve out their tattoo because they couldn't stand Kalim." 

"I heard they tried to change the tattoo so they would have a different soulmate than Kalim."

"Is that even possible?"

"I don't know but I know that they tried. Haven’t you seen how (Y/N) made Kalim cry two weeks ago? They must despise him."

“How could a person despise Kalim? He is friends with everyone and there is no one who would say a bad thing about him.” 

The fuck? (Y/N) was sure that they heard his and Kalim's name in their conversation. They certainly didn't do anything like that. As they passed the group, they received glares from everyone in the group. They wanted to tell Kalim what they heard and how idiotic it was but they couldn't reach him either by phone or by going over to Scarabia. Since they didn't get a chance to talk to Kalim, they went back to their room.

They managed to find Kalim the next day and talk briefly about what they heard. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding, (Y/N). I know you wouldn't do something like that." He smiled, making them feel better. They hanged out casually for the next few days then Kalim spontaneously invited them to a carpet ride.

"I'm sorry, I promised my friends that we would binge-watch this new tv show that came out."

"It's okay." They were glad to hear Kalim's positive response. He really is working himself to be a better boyfriend.

The next morning at breakfast, their mood turned sour.

"Did you know that the reason (Y/N) pushes Kalim away is that they are having an affair with someone?"

"No one would cheat on their soulmate once they learn they are soulmates. That's just nasty."

(Y/N) left without eating breakfast so they wouldn't hear any of those stupid people. They needed fresh air to distract themselves from what they heard but it only made things worse.

"My friend told me. He saw (Y/N) flirt with a guy from Scarabia right after they sent Kalim away." A guy from Heartslabyul said a student from Octavinelle and Pomefiore.

"I bet that's the person they are cheating with and they must be using Kalim's money to do whatever they want." added the Pomefiore student.

"So (Y/N) is acting the perfect soulmate for Kalim for his money and use his money to fuck around with another guy. I thought soulmates wouldn't be able to be with someone else other than each other." Heartslabyul student said

"You can break the bond but you need to do an unspeakable thing first." Octavinelle one told the group.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Doesn't matter. This means (Y/N) did something unspeakable. I feel sorry for Scarabia prefect."

(Y/N) didn't want to hear their talk anymore as they rushed to Kalim's side. Unfortunately, he was sick and didn't have the energy to talk to them as Jamil informed them.

The next day the rumors got worse. "Kalim is terminally sick because (Y/N) tried to break their bond." "They are trying to kill him." So forth.

The rumors around (Y/N) grew larger and larger. At first, their friends defended them whereas Kalim was nowhere to be seen. But their friends abandoned them too. "We believe, you didn't do anything but the others don't and they don't talk to or look at us since we are friends with you. Forgive us but we don't want to spend our student lives as ostracized." 

They were all alone. No one spoke to them. They just talked about them but never to them. They couldn't take it anymore.

(Y/N) didn't have any other choice. They had only one place to go. They thought all of these rumors would die if people saw they were with Kalim and if he said there was no problem between them. So they went to Kalim. They didn't say they came to him because of rumors but they thought he knew it deep down. He didn't care what people were saying about them as he hugged them tightly. "You should move to Scarabia. Even my room!" He said, eyed closed with a huge smile on his face. "No one would say anything about you then." They were soulmates and have been dating for months so staying in the same room wasn't outrageous for them. They accepted his proposal. He immediately asked Jamil to help them with their stuff. After placing their basic stuff in Kalim's room, he asked if they wanted to walk to clear their head which (Y/N) accepted dearly.

"At least, people won't talk about how you beat me and gave me bruises anymore!" Kalim said with a cheery attitude.

Huh? Nobody was talking about that in the school.

"Or how you sneaked into treasury room to get yourself some diamonds!" He added another rumor that didn't exist.

There was something in the way he said those that were giving goosebumps to them. (Y/N)'s mind was trying to understand why they felt on edge suddenly. It was better to confront the issue now. "Uhm... those weren't among the rumors. Whe-"

"Oh, they weren't?" Kalim looked surprised. "I thought I vented about it. Hmmm... never mind then! Let's go and ride flying carpet."

Did he say 'vented?'

"Sorry, Kalim. You said vented. What do you mean by it?" (Y/N)'s instinct was telling them to run from great danger but Scarabia was a safe place. It must be their mind playing tricks on them.

"Since we weren't together, I was feeling upset. My friends just asked me why I was upset and I told them everything. It's good to be friends with the majority of the school since I had so many friends who listened to what I said. They are such good people, listening to my worries attentively and comforting me." He stopped in front of them, looked them right in the eyes. "They say talking fixes every problem. And look! Talking made you come back to me."

Talking solves everything but it wasn't him talking that made me succumb to his wish. It was those nasty rumors. Surely he knows... Oh. Oh! That is just ridiculous, he wouldn't do something like that to me. He loves me too much for it. Still... (Y/N) wanted to believe that what they were thinking was just their mind was making that up. "Kalim, you know that the rumors caused me great problems."

He cut them off again. "Don't worry. I won't talk about your thievery and the bruises you gave me. Since you are back in my arms, there is no need for me to talk about you to my friends anymore."

"I didn't steal anything or even hurt an inch of you. Why would you talk about something that doesn't exist?"

"Those rumors won't exist as long as you are with me. Since you will never ever leave me again, you won't need to work your mind about it." Kalim told them with a bright smile on his face. "Now let me show you a whole new world!" He grabbed their hand and tugged their sleeve. "Unless you want to leave me by myself. It would be a shame if your reputation plummets down more." 

(Y/N) was too shocked to answer so they just nodded. 

"Great! Let's go!" Their mind was numb as Kalim dragged them after him.

Kalim looked like the sweetest person one could ever meet. They didn't think he would ever do something so nasty.

Is this the man whom I'll spend the rest of the days with? What did I do to deserve such fate? 

[4stars-uswnt]

If I Hated You [Alex Morgan x Reader]

requested by anon: Hey I love your works!! I was wondering if you could do a fic based on fletcher’s new song ‘if I hated you’ with Alex x reader, if possible with an eventual happy ending? If not I totally understand but thank you so much for all the fics you’ve shared and done for us.

requested by @eclipses77​: Hey I was wondering if you could write a fix based off Fletcher’s new song ‘If I Hated You’ with any person you want but with a happy ending if possible.

A/N: thank you to both of you who requested this! and to the anon: i’m so glad you enjoy my fics. i have a great time writing them for you guys. 

this isn’t really a song fic with lyrics and everything. it’s mainly just inspired Fletcher’s song, so i hope y’all still enjoy it anyways :) also i may have gotten a little carried away with it.

ps. thanks to @sauceysonny​ for talking through this prompt with me and letting me rant through my ideas

warnings: swearing

Listen to “If I Hated You” by Fletcher here

You throw the sheets off your body for what feels like the hundredth time that night. You had been tossing and turning, unable to sleep with the other side of the bed being so empty. You reach for your phone to check the time. 2:13 am. The photo on the lock screen makes your heartache. It was a photo of you and Alex that Kelley had captured in the locker room after the World Cup, your foreheads pressed together, oblivious to the rest of the world. Shutting your phone off, you turn over and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you’d gotten here.

—————

“I can’t wait to see you this weekend.” You chirp, smiling at your girlfriend through your computer screen. There had been a week break in the NWSL season, so Alex had decided to visit you up in Seattle for a couple of days.

Alex gives you a sheepish look. Being able to read your girlfriend like a book, you feel yourself deflate with defeat.

“You’re not coming, are you?”

“Babe, I’m sorry. I have to go to LA for some meetings with the Olympics committee and with Angel City. I am so sorry.” Alex apologizes.

Her apologies felt useless at this point, as your girlfriend was always cancelling on you, putting you second. You look down at your hands, ignoring Alex’s gaze.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I’ve been really busy lately.” She tries again, hoping to get a response out of you.

“You’re always busy, Al.” You mumble.

“I know, babe, and I’m sorry, but there’s not a lot I can do about it.” Alex defends.

You roll your eyes, annoyed at your girlfriend’s excuses. “Yes, Alex, there is something you can do about it. You can tell them that you already have plans. Or that you have to go visit your girlfriend, who you haven't seen in almost two months. Or that they can fucking wait because Angel City isn’t happening for another year and the Olympics aren’t for another eight fucking years.”

Alex sits on the other side of the screen stunned by your outburst. In your arguments, you were usually the calmer one, Alex being the one with the temper, but you just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You sigh, tired of fighting with the other woman. “Al, maybe we should just take a break.”

“What?” Alex sits up at that, leaning closer to the screen.

“Look, I know we love each other and everything, but recently it just feels like our relationship is strained by the distance and all of our commitments.”

“You mean my commitments.” Alex countered.

“I didn’t say that, Alex. Stop putting words in my mouth. We are both to blame here. I just feel like we need some time to ourselves to figure out what we want from this relationship.”

Your heart aches, as the words leave your mouth, and as you see tears form in Alex’s eyes.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t wanna take a break.” She whispered.

“Al, I don’t wanna take a break either, but all we’ve been doing lately is arguing, and I just think we should take a little time to evaluate our own lives.” You feel tears pooling in your eyes.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, love.” Alex nods, wiping her face.

“I think it’s what we need.” You swallow the knot in your throat. “This isn’t the end, Al.”

“It better not be.” She lets out a watery chuckle, and you fondly smile.

“See you later, Ali-gator.”

Alex smiled at your nickname for her. The two of you vowed you would never actually say ‘goodbye’ to each other because you always knew you’d see each other again.

“See you in a while, crocodile.”

—————

That conversation was almost two weeks ago, and since then, you had been an absolute mess. Although you were used to being alone in Seattle, being on a break from your relationship made you feel even more lonely. In the past couple of weeks, you had barely left your apartment, only going out for training, games, and the necessary grocery shopping.

Your phone had been blowing up with text messages from your national team teammates, who were all concerned about you after hearing the news. Not bothering to give any of them any details, you responded to the group chat with an ‘I’m fine, you guys. Please respect me and Alex’s privacy.’ Alex soon replied, adding ‘What (Y/N) said. We love you guys, but we need to work through this ourselves.’ Both of your texts received many hearts and likes, following with ‘We’re here’ and ‘Love you guys’ from the women, and the texts stopped after that.

In Orlando, Alex hadn’t been faring any better. After returning from LA, she spent most of her time moping around her house in sweatpants and a hoodie she’d stolen from you. Ali, Ash, and Syd would all stop by or invite her over to cheer her up, but Alex was heartbroken without you.

—————

The next morning, after having gone to bed at around 3 am, you slip on a pair of shorts and one of Alex’s Cal hoodies and drag yourself to training.

As you walk into the locker room, Allie and Megan exchange a look of concern, noticing the bags under your eyes and your hood pulled over your head. Your two national team teammates had been worried about you for the past couple of months, even more so in the recent weeks when you and Alex had decided to take a break. They knew the distance was causing you stress, and now the separation was causing you heartbreak. But every time either woman tried to approach the subject, you shut them out, insisting you were okay, when you clearly were not.

Towards the end of practice, after another one of your passes goes awry, Farid calls you over.

“(Y/N), you doing okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. He had heard the whispers in the locker room, your teammates voicing their concerns, and he could tell something was bothering you, so much so it was disrupting your play.

“Yes, coach.”

Not wanting to push you, he hums. “Okay, then you better start playing like you’re doing okay.”

You nod, embarrassed by your own unprofessionalism. “Of course, coach, sorry.”    

He blows the whistle, ending practice, and you scurry back to the locker room.

Back in the locker room, as you’re taking off your cleats and packing up your bag, Allie slips into the seat next to you.

“(Y/N), you wanna come over later?” Allie places a hand on your knee. “We’re having a barbecue. Megan and Sue will also be there.”

You snort. “And be a fifth wheel? I’m good, Allie, but thanks for the invite.”

“(Y/N),” she starts again, “even though I’m Alex’s best friend doesn’t mean I don’t care about you either. Megan and I, and the whole team really, are here if you ever wanna talk.”

“Thanks, Allie.” You smile, as you stand up, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll stop by for a little bit.”

“Awesome.”

—————

Later than evening, you made your way over to Allie and Bati’s place, ultimately deciding that being a fifth wheel was better than sitting at your apartment alone with another box of takeout.

You enter through the side gate, heading into the backyard, where Bati is barbecuing and Megan, Allie, and Sue are chatting around the table. Hearing you open the gate, Bati looks up from the grill.

“Hey! Look who made it!” He gives you a big grin, opening his arm up for a side hug, which you accept.

“Hey, Jose. Thanks for having me.” You softly smile.

“Of course, (Y/N).”

“Aye! (Y/N)! Get your butt over here!” Megan calls from across the yard, waving you over.

“The queen is calling, so I must go.” You joke, making your way over to the table.

“(Y/N/N), I’m glad you could make it.” Allie gives you a brief hug. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water would be great.” You thank her, before turning to Megan and Sue.

“Long time no see, Birdie. Good game the other day. You played, eh, okay.” You smirk at the basketball player, who just rolls her eyes.

“It’s good to see you too, (Y/N/N). Thanks. A triple double is okay. But I dunno if I could say the same about you. I hear you’re not playing like the superstar you are.” Sue teases, resulting in a slap from Megan, who gives her girlfriend a warning glare.

You ignore the pink-haired woman and the ache in your chest. “Just having a couple of bad practices. I’ll be tearing up the field in no time.” You boast flippantly.

Seeing past your confident facade, Megan narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay, (Y/N)?”

“P, I’ve told you a million times. I’m fine.” You give her a tight smile, silently telling her you don’t want to talk about it.

Before Megan can ask you anymore questions, Allie and Bati approach the table with plates of food in their hands.

“Time to eat!” Allie cheers. “Oh, and, (Y/N), here’s your water.”

You mutter out a ‘thanks’, and take a large gulp, pushing down the knot forming in your throat.

—————

Dinner went smoothly the five of you discussing an array of topics, ranging from the upcoming NWSL and WNBA season to the election to the newest Italian restaurant that opened downtown.

By the time you all are finished eating, it’s dark out, leaving only the fairy lights to illuminate the yard. You go to clear your plate, but before you can stand up, Bati grabs it from you.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N/N). I got this.” He motions for you to sit back down, before reaching to collect the rest of the plates. “Why don’t I clean up and leave you ladies to chat?” Bati quickly pecks Allie’s cheek, before heading back inside.

Once it is just the four of you, Megan turns to you.

“(Y/N), seriously, how are you feeling?”

You internally groan. You should’ve known this was gonna turn into an intervention. Before you go to respond, the older forward continues.

“And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine. I’m good’ bullshit.” She raises her eyebrow, daring you to challenge her. “Because obviously you’re not fine, and you’re not good. For the past two weeks all you’ve been doing is moping around your apartment, wearing nothing but sweats. You’ve barely eaten an actual meal until today, nor gotten a good night’s sleep. And to top it all of you’ve been playing like crap!”

Sue hits Megan’s arm and scolds her. “Megan!”

The pink-haired woman faces to her girlfriend. “No! I’m not going to sugar coat it. (Y/N) needs to hear this, and she needs to talk about.” Megan turns back to you and softens. “(Y/N/N), you can’t keep bottling up all your feelings. We care about you, and we’re here to listen, so please talk to us.”

Both Allie and Sue nod along with Pinoe’s words.

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, before starting, “I’m a mess. Like before, I was annoyed and angry that Al was making me a second priority, but now I’m just sad and heartbroken that she’s not here with me.” You finally confess to the other women, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest. “And, I mean, I didn’t want to take a break, but our relationship just felt strained. Like we weren’t communicating, and I think the distance was getting the best of us, especially with all of our commitments. I don’t know. Do you guys think I made the right decision?”

Not knowing what to say, the three woman look at each other, searching for answers. Finally, Sue speaks up.

“(Y/N), none of us can know if you made the right decision.” She reaches to squeeze your hand. “Only you and Alex can know what’s right for yourselves and your relationship.”

You nod in understanding. “I love her so much, and I wish we could just be together because all I want is to be by her side.” You whisper, your eyes getting misty. “Ugh, I just miss her so much.”

“I miss you, too.”

You whip your head around. There, in all her glory, stood Alex Morgan. She doesn’t look any better than you, your Reign sweatshirt hiding her muscular frame and dark circles forming under her eyes. Your lips part, as you’re completely speechless.

“You’re car wasn’t in your lot, so I assumed you were either here or at Pinoe’s. This was my first stop, and here you are.” Alex shifts uncomfortably in the silence, her usual confidence faded.

You turn back to face Allie, Megan, and Sue, your eyes narrowing. “Did you three know about this?”

“No!” They all exclaim, Megan holding up her hands in innocence. You continue to stare at Allie, not convinced she had no part in this.

“I swear, (Y/N), I had no idea about this.” She insists, as you relent your accusatory glare.

“(Y/N),” Alex comes up from behind you, “they had nothing to do with this, so please don’t be mad at them. I came here all on my own because I wanted to talk to you. I needed to see you.”

You nod. “Ok.”

“So, can we talk?” She sheepishly asks. “Alone, if that’s okay with you?” She adds, pleading her friends to leave you two to talk.

The three women take the cue and head back inside, leaving you alone with Alex, who sits in Pinoe’s seat across from you.

You sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing where to start.

You decide to break the silence. “How’ve you been?”

She looks up from her fidgeting hands. “Uhh. Good. I’ve been good.”

You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “Al, c’mon, I know you like the back of my hand. How have you actually been?”

Alex sighs. “To be honest, I’ve been miserable.” She looks up, locking eyes with you. “I missed you, and I just wanted be with you, or even just hear your voice.”

You nod, knowing the feeling. “I missed you too, Al.”

“But you were right.” She confesses, as you tilt your head, confused. “We, or at least I, needed this break. It helped me realize what was important in my life, and that’s you, (Y/N). I can live without all those brand deals and sponsors, hell, I can even live without soccer, because none of that means anything if I can’t share it with you.”

By that point, both you openly had tears streaming down your faces.

“So, I promise to be better and to be more committed to our relationship. And I’m sorry that I ever put you as a second priority because you’re not. You’re my number one.” Alex concludes, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

You let out a small chuckle at her cheesiness. “Thank you for your apology.” You take her hand. “And I’m sorry that didn’t make enough of an effort either.” Before Alex can protest, you squeeze her hand. “Al, a relationship is between two people. This wasn’t just your fault, okay? We both played a part.” You assure, quelling her guilt.

“So can we end this break and be back together?” Alex whispers hesitantly.

Beaming, you pull her in for a searing kiss, your first in almost three months. Her soft lips melt against yours, and you could taste the sweetness of her vanilla chapstick mixed with the saltiness of her tears. Before you could deepen the kiss, you hear Allie call from inside.

“No sex in my yard please!”

You rest your head on Alex’s shoulder, as the two of you laugh at your friend’s antics. Your girlfriend caresses your cheek, guiding you to lock eyes with her pleading blue orbs.

“Do you forgive me?”  

You nod. “Yes, Al, I forgive you.”

“Good. I thought you hated me.” She mumbles.

“I could never hate you, even if I tried.”

Alex smiles, leaning in for another kiss, before you hold up your hand.

“But, Al, your words are nice and all, but I have to see it. You have to prove to me that you’re committed to this relationship, especially if it’s long distance. And I will work to do the same. Okay?”

“Of course, (Y/N/N).” She nods her head eagerly. “So, I’m guessing it’s okay if I stayed here with you in Seattle for the next week?”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“They had to cancel training and matches for the next week because of some flooding issues at the facilities. So I’m all yours until next Sunday. That is, if you’ll have me.”

You jump off your seat and into Alex’s lap, pulling her in for another kiss. “Who am I to refuse such a pretty lady?” You tease, giving her nose a kiss.

“Alex and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…!” Allie sings, as her, Megan, and Sue approach the two of you.

“I take it you two made up?” Megan gestures to your position in Alex’s lap.

“Yes, we made up.” You grin, as your girlfriend kiss the top of your head.

“Good. I’m glad.” She returns a smile, and you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her.

“Me too.” Alex beams, turning to look at you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bring her in for a sweet chaste kiss.

“Hey! What did I say about no sex in my yard!” Allie playfully scolds.

“It’s not my fault (Y/N) can’t keep her hands off me.” Alex smirks.

You gasp, jumping out of your girlfriend’s laugh. “Hey!”

“I’m only kidding, babe.” She rolls her eyes, pulling you back into her lap.

You cross your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

Alex chuckles, as she buries her face in your neck, giving you a kiss. “No you don’t.”

You smile, turning to the woman you love, and give her a quick peck. “You’re right. I don’t.”

[cafeinthemoon]

Headcanons for Founders trio with an s/o who's a bookworm 📚

I don’t know if this has been done before but I myself am a bookworm and when this idea came, it was funny to imagine how each of the founders would react to having a partner who’s passionate about books

Ps: I’m sorry that I’m not capable of writing a short list of headcanons okay I really try but I can’t sorry

Fandom: Naruto | Founders trio

Symbols: 💗 | ◼ | ▶▶

Hashirama

First of all, I don’t see him as a book lover, but neither he’s book hater. He’s just the average person who can live in peace with the fact that there are books in this world without being too attached or disgusted by them

This is bc he probably has some trauma from reading caused by the huge piles of paper he has to deal in his office (he tries to avoid them by procrastinating and then begs for his brother’s help)

But he has a genuine interest in your passion bc well, he loves you, which means he loves almost everything about you and believes that understanding this hobby is a way to understand you as a person

And bc of that he always goes with you when you say you want to go to the library or the bookstore

Hashirama is the guy who’s capable of getting excited with your enthusiasm though he’s not really into the same stuff as you

So he will have so much fun following you around those corridors and shelves full of books

And will analyze every book cover you show him aka agree with all of your reviews on the covers bc he trusts your capacity of analyzing things

He will also hear when you talk about your favorite plots, characters, writing styles and quotes

If you get indecisive between one book and other you certainly will he will try to help you make up your mind by telling you that “this one’s cover is prettier than the other’s” or “I think this one will have more exciting adventures”

He will be content whether you choose this book or the other, and will laugh if you decide to get them both

Plus: Hashirama is good at spoiling his s/o so he will insist on buying any book you lay your eyes on to the point you’ll have to argue for him to let you pay for your own books

And when it’s time to go home, he will help you with the piles of books you borrowed from the library or bought from your favorite bookstore (with a significative % of discount ofc)

So we can agree that despite not having a great love for books, Hashirama will be the most fun company for a bookworm like you 💕

But this doesn’t extend to the occasions when you recommend something for him to read

He always promises he will read that book soon but you know he’s going to forget that the book exists right after you leave it with him and will only remember it when you ask it back 😐

Tobirama

Now, with this guy things are way different

Bc if you think of yourself as a bookworm, Tobirama says GET READY TO KNOW WHAT REALLY MEANS TO BE A BOOKWORM

Seriously, he has been reading since he can remember. It’s a part of him as much as the shinobi life

He reads absolutely anything. Politics? Yes. History? Ofc. Poetry? Same. Cookbook? He had already gave it a try. And do not let him start with Science 🔍

And he has a prodigious memory for what he reads, so he’s capable of spotting any book he has in his personal library with his eyes closed, so that even if you remember only one quote from the book, he will find it for you

The best part of this is that you can talk about anything about any book bc Tobirama probably has read it and will understand your point, and if he hadn’t read it yet, it’s just a question of time until he adds it to his collection

Or he will make comparisons between this book and others that are similar to it that he already has and that’s what he does to understand the whole point

The connection that comes from this is something unique. Your love for him grows as much as your love for the books you read

But everything has its dark side, and in this case it’s called COMPETITION

I’m sorry to give you such sad news, but Tobirama is that person who can turn the most innocent hobby into a competition if he feels threatened thinks you’re becoming more experienced than him in it. So expect to see him become a bit petty

He will not start a proper fight but you will sense that he’s getting into discussions about trivial details more often. He doesn’t need an invitation: if you say something that he mildly disagrees, he will discuss it until he convinces you of his pov (or you say you give up)

If you’re really into discussions and such, you might enjoy it like a sport. However, if you don’t like conflicts, I feel sorry for you lmao

If it extends for too long, it will become a reason for a serious fight, because he will get to the point of saying that “you need to refine your taste for books a little” or that “you should slow your pace in order to pay more attention to what you’re reading and have a better understanding of the book’s subject”

If things get to this point the only person who will be able to help you to make amends is Hashirama. But I hope it never happens

Now, the biggest advantage of being Tobirama’s s/o and loving books is that you almost never need to buy books, bc he’s the owner of the greatest library in the village (he has all the books you won’t find in the public library)

Ofc you manage to buy some, but you don’t use to do book hauls because you don’t wanna end up broken he always gets the books you want

That doesn’t mean you two don’t spend time out on bookstores and get back home late sometimes ❤

Madara

Can’t believe I couldn’t find that gif of him reading a book with his Sharingan

I don’t know but Madara and books in the same sentence sounds peculiar to me lol

I think his attitude towards books is similar to Hashirama’s in some points, except that he promptly recognizes the importance of books as knowledge and intelectual development’s tools. But in general terms he’s not the most passionate person about them

The thing is that he prefers activities outside the house, that push him to the limits of his body. You know, with this man it is about the PHYSICAL

So things like staying indoors, enjoying a good book doesn’t have appeal to him. You might love it, but to him it sounds a bit tedious

But he respects and admires this preference of yours. It’s good to see his s/o engaging in a healthy and safe activity

Sometimes, when he gets home, he might ask casually what you are reading this time, but this is not to be understood as an invitation to a long talk. He just came home, he’s tired and the last thing he wants is to hear about things in which he’s not quite interested, so it’s better just to say the book’s title or the genre

If he’s in a good mood, he will sit by your side and watch you while you read. Getting close to you and observe what you’re doing is a habit of him no matter what task you’re performing, but seeing you immersed in something you’re passionate about is different

He likes to pay attention to the way your eyes go through the lines, your lips move to repeat the characters’ sentences, your expression changing to follow your emotions and the delicate manners with which your fingers touch the pages

If you stop reading to look at him, he won’t even try to disguise 😁

And if you ask him what is it, he will just smug and continue to stare at you

Observing you is like a hobby to him, it’s his way to get in touch with you

Now, talking about your readings is something complicated when you have a partner like Madara

I believe the best way to talk about books with him is doing it indirectly. For example, instead of saying things like “I’ve read it in a book that if you…”, just say “Maybe it’s just the case that they will…”. Just bring out the idea itself and leave the source aside

He knows that you probably found it in one of your books, but he will not be bothered. Instead, he will praise the fact that your readings turn you into a smart and observing person, with a deep understanding of the world and its people

As you can imagine, going with you to buy books is to him what going with a s/o to buy shoes is to other men. Yes, he is that guy that tries to make you walk in another direction so that you won’t pass in front of a bookstore or the village’s library bc he knows that once you step into these places, you won’t leave so soon

Bc of this you use to go alone to do your book hauls or to ask your friends to go with you. Sometimes you wish you could make Madara change his mind, for you love his company, but you’re ok knowing that it’s not going to happen and try to concentrate on being in good terms with him ❤

[nasaty]

Forget me not

Aizawa-Sensei x Y/n-Sensei fic

TW: (eventually) violence, discussion of past death, just some bad feelings all around.

Part 5/??

You continued teaching Shinso privately for a few weeks, going between working on his quirk specifically, and some light training with the staff. One morning, you made your way over to the patch in the woods that you usually work at, but saw both Shinso and Aizawa there already.

“Umm, did I get the day wrong or something?” You asked.

“Oh shoot I forgot! I’m sorry. I had to move my time with Aizawa-Sensei because of a test and forgot when we usually work.”

“It’s okay. You continue with Aizawa and we can just reschedule.”

A deep gravelly voice spoke, “Y/n-Sensei, you can stay here I’ll just reschedule with Shinso.” ‘Is that what Aizawa sounds like in the morning?’ You thought.

“…couldn’t you guys both teach me…?”

“I guess, yeah.” You answered.

“We could…try and combine it?” Aizawa suggested.

“Like combine the staff and the cloth? That could be interesting….” You were intrigued. This could be a really good way of combating, and it’s so new that it would be hard for anyone, including villains, to evade. “Yeah let’s try it out.”

You gave Shinso his staff and he unwrapped his binding cloth. All three of you hypothesized different ways for it to be used. You could use the end of the staff to push the thick side of the cloth around with centripetal force or loop it around the end to toss it.

“Maybe we should improve on the staff…” you add. “We could put some sort of hook or edge on one side, and maybe a small rubber end for grip? I can talk to support about it if you guys are interested.” You walked closer to Aizawa and pointed out the places you could enhance.

“That’s….genius.” Aizawa was looking at you, mouth slightly open and smirking. He put his hands next to yours and you looked up at him shyly until you both realized why you were there.

You jumped at his hands grazing yours, “Uhm… yeah so I’ll go talk to support.”

“..ahh. Sounds good and I think we’re done for the day.” Aizawa said, much more lively than earlier that morning. He waited for you to make you way to the building so he didn’t have to awkwardly walk beside you.

—————-

A few weeks later and A day or so before you’re supposed to meet for lunch again, Aizawa emailed you.

“Y/n-Sensei,

I regretfully have to postpone our lunch for this week as I have a meeting that I am being forced to attend against my will, (god dammit, Hizashi)”

You chuckled. It’s ridiculous how much more respectable you’ve both been to each other lately. Toshinori was right. You texted Toshi that you’ve got to buy him a coffee later, and continued reading Aizawa’s email.

“I was hoping to offer you dinner in place of our usual visit. Please consider accompanying me on our regular lunch date of this coming Wednesday, at 7:00pm.

A.S.”

‘Good fucking god what is that supposed to be? Is he asking me out on a date?!’ You thought. Absolutely freaking out, you decided to find Toshinori and ask him what he thought about it. Maybe having a mans perspective would help? And it’s not like you could as Hizashi, he would blurt it to the whole school.

You walked to the teachers lounge in an attempt to find Toshinori as he usually spent most of his free time there rather than in his office. He probably liked having the company. You heard your heels click on the ground while you walk and you felt powerful, until you opened the lounge door and saw Aizawa sitting on the couch grading papers. You thought maybe he didn’t see you and you could sneak away, but he saw you. He hummed a bit signifying you being welcome to enter but you froze.

“Everything alright y/n?” Toshinori popped his head out of the book he was reading. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Ahh…umm..I’m uhh…” you stammered.

Aizawa looked at you with furrowed brows and a small smile on his face. It looked like he was trying to decipher whatever was happening with you.

“I’m alright!” You blurted and turned to walk out of the lounge. Toshinori looked back and forth between the door and Aizawa a few times.

“What was that about, do you think..?” He asked Aizawa.

Aizawa shrugged and went back to grading. Toshinori decided to follow you and ask what the trouble was. Aizawa was lucky you both left because he was desperately trying to not turn bright red. He was tapping his foot and chewing on his pen until Toshi left the room. Once he left, Aizawa sighed longingly and let himself blush.

Toshinori caught up to you in the hallway as you were walking back to your office.

“Y/n are you sure you’re alright?”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “IgotanemailfromAizawaandIthinkheaskdmeoutonadateandIhavenoideawhattothinksoIwenttofindyouandhewasinthereandI’mfreakingout!”

“Y/n you’re going to have to slow down.”

You shoved your phone with the email still up in his face.

“Oh wow…. This is…formal…” Toshinori breathed.

You buried your face in your hands as you turned bright red.

“This situation has changed a lot since the last time I spoke to you about him….” Toshi observed.

“Do you think it’s a date? Or do you think this is just him moving our appointment? We’ve been getting lunch every week to discuss Shinso’s progress.”

“Um….if this isn’t a date I need to reevaluate my life.” Toshi clapped his hand over his wide smile. “A.S.?” He laughed so hard he coughed up blood.

“Oh my god stop it Toshi.” You playfully smack his arm as he’s laughing. “You have to keep this a secret!”

Someone steps up to both of you, “Hmm?”

Aizawa stood there intimidatingly drinking the last of his coffee with an unamused face. You froze and Toshi leaned down to you to hand your phone back slowly.

“Well I’d better get going, nice to see you y/n. Aizawa.” Toshi ditched as fast as humanly possible leaving you holding your phone with Aizawa’s email up on it like the email itself would kill you. He slowly moved in toward you to take your phone and you shuddered. At the last second you tossed your phone to your other hand and straight armed his chest to keep him from taking it. His intimidating facade disappeared as he smirked with a spark in his eye. You laughed and tried to hold him back but he got through your defenses.

He reached out for your phone and you spun and ran down the hallway to your office. As soon as he realized where you were going he followed you, almost wiping out turning the corner. You stood in the middle of your office and attempted a stance to hold him back. Once he reached your office he slowed down dramatically, he moved in with a devilish smirk on his face and you started biting your lip.

He faked you out so he could get past you without hurting you and you ended up being pressed chest to chest with your arm out as far as possible, still clutching your phone. He looked down at you hungrily and your eyes widened. Instead of reaching for your phone, he raised his hands to hold your face in between them, pulled you close to him and kissed you hard. You gasped and melted into the kiss and put your hands on his chest.

Suddenly he pulled away grabbed your phone and jumped to the other side of the room. You were in a daze. He opened your phone to see his email to you on the screen.

“So this is your secret with Yagi? Me asking you on a date?” He asked.

“So it is a date!” You exclaimed and pointed at him. He lightly took your finger in his hand and held it.

“Of course it is, moron, what the hell else?” He rolled his eyes, still smiling.

“…I mean we were doing this to help Shinso.”

“Originally yeah, but we haven’t hardly talked about Shinso in weeks.” He explained.

You racked your brain to remember past conversations involving Shinso at lunch. You couldn’t remember the last time. Before you could speak again. He took your hand, which was still holding your pointer finger out, turned it and gave you a soft kiss on the top of your knuckles.

His sensual expression faded. “If you don’t want it to be a date it doesn’t have to be. We can go back to what we were like before…”

“I..uh….I..” you said totally dumb founded.

He placed your hand at your side, handed you your phone and said “consider it.” He walked out of your office with his hands in his pockets looking at the ground.

————————

You paced in your office for a while thinking of what to do. Did UA have a fraternizing policy? Was this all a joke? There’s no way he actually like you…right? How could he. He was incredible. One of the youngest to ever become a UA faculty member, he made accomplishment after accomplishment and you never measured up. Is there any way this could be real?

Despite this, you decided to email him back.

“Aizawa-Sensei,

I accept your invitation to postpone our upcoming meeting until that evening. I would like to accompany you to dinner, if you’ll still have me.”

You didn’t know what else to say do you sent it, and got almost an immediate reply.

“Y/n-Sensei,

Of course I’ll still have you. Always will.

A.S.

PS: I heard from support course and they have finished prototypes of the staffs you were working on. They’d like us to try them out tomorrow, if you’re available.”

Your heart stopped for a second. How was he this sweet? You knew the formality of everything was just him being a dork and flirting, but it still was really cute. And how adorable was he when he was trying to grab your phone, his lips pouted trying to reach past you…

You returned to reality. Maybe this is just a fling, a one time thing. Just something two adults do when they’re bored and nothing else. ‘There’s no way he would want to date you’ you thought. That would be irrational.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 53

Masterlist

A/N: It's been four weeks since the last chapter. I'm sorry for the delay. Life kind of got in the way, but hopefully, I'll have more time to write now.

----

Dear Kiko,

I hope you won’t mind me writing to you out of the blue. We hardly know each other, after all, but Drakon said you wouldn’t mind.

I have a request, and since you study magic at the university, I thought you might be able to help. I was wondering if you might know a way for someone to contact the deceased, or if you might know where to find something about it in one of your libraries or elsewhere.

All I would want is one conversation. A few minutes, that would be enough. I realize that this is an unusual request, but it would mean a lot.

For obvious reason, I would appreciate your discretion on the matter. I hope we’ll be able to meet in person again some time. We never did actually get the chance to truly talk to each other.

Yours,

Miryam

PS: Drakon says hello and sorry for taking so long with his reply to your letter. The Alliance is keeping us both quite busy at the moment, I hope you understand.

----

Dear Miryam,

I hope you know that this is my tenth attempt at writing this letter, mainly because I do not know how to address you. I hope I’m not being informal, but, well, you’re married to my best friend, so maybe this is fine. If it’s not, I’m sorry.

Regarding your request, I am afraid I will have to disappoint you. There is no way to talk to the deceased, and if there is, I never heard of it. All I have been able to find records on in the library were resurrections, and even for that, information is scarce. Most of what I could find was more myth than fact, and as for the little bit of concrete information, there was nothing I could recommend to you. I realize I am in no position to tell you what to do and I hope you don’t see this as me crossing any lines, but I urge you in the strongest way possible: Stay away from resurrections. There is always some price attached to that sort of thing, and I do not think you want to find out what it is.

I am sorry for your loss, I truly am. And I understand why you might want this. But some things cannot be undone – you just have to learn to live with them.

Yours,

Kiko.

PS: Tell Drakon not to stress himself over the letter. You’re all very important and very busy, I get it. Since I’m far less busy, though, I might come visit for your Autumn Festival, then we can talk in person.

And seriously. Stay away from the resurrections. They are a very bad idea.

----

As it always does, the world moves on with dizzying speed, carelessly forgetting any tragedy within days. For all that Miryam wants to scream, wants to rage at the world for forgetting about Jurian so quickly, she can’t stop it. And loathe as she is to admit it, she, too, simply doesn’t have time to dwell on past tragedies. Not when there is the end of a war to organize.

The war is truly moving towards its end now, and there seem to be a million of things to be done, all of them immediately. The Loyalists seem to be reluctant to surrender, although their defeat seem unavoidable now, and the Alliance is currently trying to end the war with as little casualties as possible. Miryam sincerely hopes she won’t end up being one of those casualties, but all she has time to do about that at the moment is to do her job as well as possible and hope it will be enough.

Today, that means trying to find a way to get the Spring Court to surrender without a fuss. It should be no hard task, given that the Alliance managed to completely isolate Spring on Prythian in the past months, and Hybern, its biggest ally, is too busy dealing with internal struggle to assist. Unfortunately, Miryam has yet to meet a single Loyalist country that surrendered easily. Besides, Miryam still has the humans left in the Spring Court to consider, and make sure that they won’t end up caught in the crossfire. Shey and most of the other Fae don’t seem to care much about that, but Miryam does.

Standing on a lush green hill, Miryam looks down at the pretty white manor below. Roses are growing in the gardens surrounding it, all in full bloom. Miryam would have considered the land beautiful if she hadn’t been able to make out the figures working on the fields surrounding the manor. Human slaves.

The anger rushing through Miryam at that thought is unproductive, so she pushes it down.

“Disappointed that there are no mountains for you to blow up nearby?” Helion teases. He got chosen as her escort for today, mainly because the council felt it would be good to have someone from Prythian there for the negotiations. “But don’t worry, if it’s necessary, you can just settle for the manor.”

Miryam rolls her eyes at him, but the comment does manage to summon a smile to her gace “Are you ever going to let that go?” She asks as she starts walking down the hill and towards the manor. Their guards – the council’s reaction to the incident in Tehne and Prythian’s general disregard for Continental rules – follow a few steps behind.

Helion grins. “You nearly dropped a mountain on me,” he says. “I’d say I deserve some teasing.”

Miryam already has a teasing reply ready, but by now, they are in hearing range of the guards at the manor’s gates, and she instead schools her face into neutrality. The guards at them as they approach, and Helion replies with a cheerful wink at them.

Miryam settles for a smile that falls somewhere between polite and cold. “I believe your lord is expecting us,” she says. “Would you be kind enough to lead the way.”

The scowl of the nearest guard deepens, and as he inclines his head, he looks like she asked his to jump into a bucket of piss. He complies without a comment, though, turning briskly and stalking over the white gravel pass towards the manor. Miryam follows after him, Helion falling into step next to her.

High Lord Cadell of the Spring Court is waiting on the steps leading up to the manor. He’s dressed, thematically fitting, in spring green with golden embroidery, his blond hair adorned with a crown of flowers. His face is tight, mouth pressed into a thin line. Miryam offers a polite smile and the barest nod, even though she isn’t exactly in the mood for politeness.

“High Lord,” she greets.

He doesn’t return the greeting and only gives Miryam an accessing once-over, then turns her attention to Helion.

“Lord Helion,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

Helion offers a small smile of his own. “Not long enough for you to learn manners, it seems.” He turns to Miryam. “Your Highness,” he says, “meet High Lord Cadell of the Spring Court. High Lord, Princess Miryam of Erithia, leader of the Alliance.” He pauses, as if considering, then adds in an exaggerated fake-whisper, “I know Continental politics aren’t your strong suit, but you ought to know that she’s pretty important there. You should probably treat her like it.”

Cadell’s pale cheeks turn a furious red at the implication that his impoliteness was simply ignorance of Miryam’s station. His green eyes dart back and forth between Miryam and Helion, as if he is trying to come up with a reply but failing miserably.

Behind him, Miryam can see the manor’s foyer. Figures are standing by the walls. Human slaves, Miryam realizes, waiting for and order by their owner. A tight knot forms in her stomach as she turns back to Cadell.

“Are you planning to make us negotiate your surrender standing on these steps?” She asks.

Cadell’s hands curl into fists, and Miryam is sure he desperately wishes he could hit her. Being talked back to by a human is probably a new experience for him, and he doesn’t appear to be enjoying it.

“Come on in, then,” he snaps, voice biting. Without waiting for a reply, he spins around and stalks up the stairs and into the manor.

Miryam leaves all but two guards behind as she follows him, and the two guards that do stay with her and Helion are more for show than anything else. Helion has a shield firmly in place around the two of them, and should it come to a fight, Miryam is confident she can beat Cadell.

The High Lord leads them to a small, private study. He doesn’t have any advisors with him – apparently, he doesn’t want anyone around when he has to surrender to a human. Three chairs have been set out, and Helion pulls Miryam’s out for her before she can. She nods her thanks to him as she sits down. Cadell, still scowling, sits down on the opposite end of the table.

“Let’s get straight to the point, then,” he says.

By all rights, he should have first thanked Miryam for taking the time to meet with him and then followed it up with some pleasantries before slowly approaching the point of the meeting. He didn’t even offer refreshments. On the other hand, Miryam doesn’t particularly care for false pleasantries from a slave owner. At least his insolence sets the proper tone for the meeting.

“Of course,” Miryam says. “I assume you received the letter where I notified you of the terms the Alliance demands.”

“I did. And to make this clear right off the bat: I will not surrender part of my territory, most certainly not to these mortals.”

“Won’t you?” Miryam asks lightly.

“No.” Cadell leans forward on his table, face red. “These mortals are citizens of the Spring Court, and this is where they will remain.”

“You mean they are property,” Miryam corrects. “If they were citizens, they would be allowed to refuse work and leave the court as they please according to Prythian law.”

Cadell scowls, unwilling to meet her eye. He doesn’t manage to hide how much it irks him to have this discussion with a mortal. “If the Alliance insists, I will free them. But only under the condition that they remain here, in Spring, as workers.”

Miryam arches an eyebrow at him. “You realize that changing the label on slavery won’t make me like it any more, don’t you?”

“Your preferences aren’t high on my list of priorities,” Cadell snaps in a brilliant show of failed control. “I’m not going to let these mortals leave, much less just hand them part of my territory, and if you don’t like it, I suggest you get used to it.”

Helion snorts softly but leaves it to Miryam to reply.

“You seem to misunderstand the purpose of this meeting,” she says in a too-soft voice. “This isn’t a negotiation, you don’t get to make demands. You are surrendering because you don’t have a choice, because you are hopelessly outnumbered and backed against the wall, and I am here to accept that surrender.”

“But without my agreement, there won’t be a surrender at all,” Cadell shoots back. “You need me, and if you want me to play along with you, you better meet my demands.”

Miryam allows herself a smile. “That’s where you’re wrong,” she says. “I don’t need you. The Alliance doesn’t need you. We’ve already won the Spring Court, and there are more than a few people on the council who think it would be easier to simply kill you, kill your sons and put that youngest boy of yours – Tamlin, isn’t it? – on the throne. A seven-year-old would make a wonderful puppet ruler, don’t you think?”

Cadell is gaping at her like he can’t believe what she is saying. His face turns from red to white startlingly quickly. Then, inevitably, he turns to Helion, as if he is expecting help.

Helion merely shrugs. “Why are you looking at me?” He asks lightly. “I’m not even on the council. If you want to save your ass, High Lord, it’s her you should turn to.”

Miryam could have hugged him. It’s not unusual for the Loyalist Fae to try and ignore her in favour of whichever Fae accompanies her. It also happened when she was sent to Xian last week – only then, the Fae who had been sent along with her dismissed her just as much as the enemy leader did, which certainly made it more difficult for her to assume authority and get Xian to accept the surrender.

Cadell turns, unwillingly, back to Miryam. “You can’t kill us,” he says, more outraged than worried.

“Oh trust me, we can.” Miryam gives him a small smile. “But I don’t want that, don’t worry. I don’t like unnecessary death – which is your luck, since the council won’t choose to kill you without my say-so.”

In fact, the council won’t choose to kill him at all, with or without Miryam’s say-so. Killing the royal family of the Spring Court was never even up for consideration. The entire council – Miryam included – agreed that it would be unwise to have the leadership of a surrendering court executed this early on. Smarter to show leniency, make the remaining Loyalists realize that if they only agree to end slavery and play along with what the Alliance wants, they will get favourable conditions for their surrender.

Miryam is bluffing. She is bluffing with incredibly high stakes, because for all the self-assured act she is putting on, if Cadell doesn’t agree to her terms, she won’t have a sure way to get the humans out of Spring safely.

“And what is it you want,” Cadell asks, each word biting, “in return for your generosity?”

Miryam turns to Helion, who snaps his fingers and makes a contract appear on the table between them. “First of all, I want you to sign this,” she says. “It includes your official surrender to the Alliance, as well as an assurance that the Spring Court will never again own humans as slaves. All slaves currently in the Spring Court will be officially freed, compensated and then sent on their way to a new territory that will be formed on Spring Court land and is to be under independent human jurisdiction.”

Cadell laughs. “And you think I’m just going to agree to this?”

“Since I assume you are rather fond of being alive: Yes, I think you will.” She smiles slightly. “So that we don’t misunderstand each other: You are useful to me for precisely one reason, and that is that I assume you’ll be able to ensure that the humans here will be able to leave your territory and settle into their new homes safely. If you aren’t able to do that, I have no use for you, and I’ll tell the council to have you executed.”

Cadell tenses. Miryam thinks it might be the threat of execution, but his problem seems to be something else entirely. “Of course I can assure that if I want to,” he snaps. “I’ve got my country perfectly under control, I’ll have you know that.”

Miryam exchanges a glance with Helion, whose mouth twists into the barest hint of a smile.

“That’s good to hear,” Miryam says. “Then I can assume that you will be able to make sure the humans in your territory will be able to leave it safely. Should one, just one of them, die, I will assume it was intentional on your part and see you executed.”

Cadell tenses. “What?” He asks.

“Maybe your oldest son will do a better job. If not, then he dies and his brother gets to try his hand. And if he doesn’t manage that, then I am sure whoever the council decides to put in as regent for your youngest boy will manage. We were considering Helion – that way, he’d get some practice at running a court before one day taking over Day.”

Thankfully, Helion doesn’t show the surprise he must surely be feeling, since there was never any talk of handing Spring to him. “Sure,” he says with a dazzling smile. “I told you: Just skip the formalities and put me in charge right away.”

Cadell looks between them, mouth slightly agape, like he can’t believe what he is hearing. “You can’t…” he stutters, clearly enraged at the notion of having his court given to the heir of the Day Court. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Miryam asks lightly. She leans forward on the table and tilts her head to the side as she watches Cadell. “Tell me, My Lord, do you beat your slaves?” She asks. Her voice echoes throughout the room. “You seem to be the type who does, the type who punishes even the slightest mistake and delights in the suffering you inflict on others. Why would I, who grew up surrounded by monsters like you, not want to see you dead?” Miryam holds his gaze for a moment longer, then leans back in her seat. “You might wish to provide me with an answer for that question,” she adds. “If you make me think about it for too long, I might come to the conclusion that there isn’t one.”

Cadell doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything for a nerve-wreckingly long time. He simply stares at Miryam. For want of better things to do, she stares back.

If this bluff doesn’t work out, she will be done for. She needs him to agree to the contract now, or she will be left emptyhanded and looking stupid. It will become clear that she doesn’t have the power to have him executed whether she wants to or not, and then, she might as well hand the negotiations over to someone else because her credibility will be damaged beyond repair. Not to mention how the council will react if she returns without anything to show for, or what it might mean for the humans here if these negotiations go wrong.

“The High Lord is also close personal friends with Amarantha,” Helion adds into the tense silence. “His sons fight in her army.” He winks at Cadell. “You know how Miryam feels about Amarantha, don’t you?”

Cadell’s eyes widen in something like panic, and Miryam sees her chance. “You know what,” she says to Helion, “you are right.” She reaches out to grab the contract. “We’ll do it your way.”

Her fingers barely brush the paper of the contract before Cadell all but rips it out of her hand. “Wait!” He shouts, then lowers his voice. “Boiling Cauldron, I’m signing. I’m signing, alright?”

For a moment, Miryam wishes she truly had the power to have him executed. He would deserve it, she is sure of it, and she hates that she will have to allow him to remain in charge of his court.

“Wonderful,” she says, hoping he doesn’t hear her racing heart. That was close. Far too close. “In blood, please. It’s binding.”

 Miryam is the one to tell the humans working in the manor. They don’t seem to believe her the first time around, something which Miryam understands all too well – she certainly wouldn’t have believed it in their place. If she remembers correctly, she only fully realized that Drakon was letting her go after he had left her alone in the desert.

“You’re free,” she repeats, over and over again, squeezing hands and patting people on the shoulders. She doesn’t know what else to say, and it’s all that really matters anyways.

Eventually, her words seem to register with the listening humans. Some cry. Some fall into each other’s arms, others drop to their knees. Miryam walks around, pats shoulders, tries to find words of reassurance. She stays for a few hours, talking to people, helping the humans choose their leaders and instructing them on what the next steps will be. She would have stayed longer, but they are, as Helion reminds her, on a schedule. The Alliance came up with clear rules for this visit: Three hours, and if they aren’t back after that, it will be an army that goes looking for them.

So Miryam says her goodbyes, including a sharp reminder to Cadell of what she will do to him should any of these people be harmed. Any anger she felt over him getting away unscathed has been momentarily eased by seeing the people she just freed, a reminder of what it is she’s fighting for.

With one last look back at the humans who are standing in a tight group in the centre of the foyer, Miryam turns and walks out of the building.

As they walk over the gravel path towards the border of the grounds, Helion grins at Miryam. “Congratulations. That was a damn-near perfect surrender you achieved.”

Miryam returns the smile. “Thank you,” she says, and does her best to ignore the voice in her mind that whispers that it won’t be that easy with Ravenia.

Bluffing her way to the Spring Court’s surrender, or getting the Xian empress who had lost one child and had the other taken prisoner only days before, had been easy. But Ravenia won’t fall for simple bluffs, and there won’t be any personal tragedy to ease her resolve.

“Nice bluff, by the way,” Helion says, before her thoughts can spiral further into worry.

Miryam winces slightly. “Sorry for the lack of warning. It wasn’t my original plan.” Helion waves her off, and Miryam adds, “I’d appreciate if you kept silent about my strategy during that negotiation, though. It would be best if the council didn’t find out about that detail.”

“It was a bluff,” Helion points out. “They’d understand.”

“Probably. But I’ve had some trouble with people misunderstanding my actions lately.”

And she really doesn’t want to see how certain members of the council would react to her pretending that she has the power to simply order the execution of an enemy royal no matter what they might want. Maybe they would understand it was a bluff – or maybe they’d see it as her assuming authority she doesn’t have.

They have reached the edge of the manor grounds now, and as soon as they pass the edge of the wards. Helion winnows them and their guards back to Telique. They land in one of the palace gardens, and Helion turns to face her.

“Do you want to go out for a drink?” He asks. “Celebrate your success.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” Miryam says. “The Autumn festival is today. I’ll just report on our success to the council, then I’m off to Erithia.”

“Oh, a party. Nice.” Helion grins. “You’ll like the Autum festival. The food is great.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Well, then. Have fun.” Helion winks at her.

“Will do.”

Strictly speaking, she won’t be at the festival for fun. Her presence is a political requirement, and it will likely involve lots of small talk with basically everyone in attendance. Still, she is looking forward to it. Most members of Drakon’s court – her court, too, now – are pleasant to be around, and what she heard of the festival does sound like it will be fun. Besides, it’s the closest she comes to an afternoon off since… well, since her marriage day, come to think of it.

 Miryam makes it back to Erithia by midday, with an hour to spare until the festival begins. If she still had to change clothes, it would be too short a timeframe, but fortunately, she was smart enough to already put on her dress for the afternoon for the negotiations in the morning.

She finds Drakon in his study. He is also dressed for the occasion, clothes red and gold and brown like a forest in autumn. When Miryam enters, he is bowed over a table, frowning down at the documents strewn out over it. Miryam reads the worry on his face easily.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

Drakon nods towards the papers. “I don’t like how some of these armies are moving.” He jumps to his feet and walks over to the map table. “Here, look.” He points first to part of the Black Land arms stationed at its northern border, then at Vallahan’s army, currently further east. “They are both on the move.” He picks up the figures and pushes them towards each other.

“Many soldiers,” Miryam says. Thousands. Ten thousands, actually.

“And close to our border,” Drakon adds. “Call me paranoid, but with the Black Land involved in this…”

“Yeah.” Miryam frowns down at the map. Expending soldiers to attack a single country at this stage of the war seems stupid, and she has never known Ravenia to be stupid. On the other hand, she has never seen Ravenia actually losing, and therefore has no idea how she reacts to that. Maybe her way of reacting to failure is to completely throw all sense to the wind. “We should bring it up with the council,” Miryam says. Frowns. “Tomorrow. Today, we can’t do anything about this either way.”

Well, they could do something, but Miryam would have to call an emergency meeting. The council would likely have her head over making a fuss without any concrete reason and the people of Erithia would be concerned over them missing the festival. Needlessly concerned, probably, since the odds are that this is just her and Drakon both being paranoid.

Miryam absentmindedly runs her fingers over the red embroidery on her sleeves. Red embroidery. That’s what she gets for not being able to talk her wishes for her dress through with the seamstress. (It wasn’t even her fault she missed the appointment, an emergency meeting with the council got in the way.) Just a month ago, she wouldn’t have cared either way, but lately, red embroidery always makes her think back to Jurian’s funeral.

She shakes her head, trying to chase the memory away. Fun. She is supposed to have fun today. It’s her first afternoon off, and she will enjoy it.

Drakon seems to have come to the same conclusion. With a sigh, he looks up from the map. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask: How did Spring go?”

“The surrender is signed,” Miryam says. “Cadell agreed to let each and every one of his slaves go – with any compensations of their choosing – and sign a contract guaranteeing that Spring will never own slaves again.”

“That’s wonderful.” Now, he smiles and squeezes her hand.

I’m worried it won’t go like this for the other countries, though. Certainly not for the Black Land, Miryam thinks but doesn’t say it. For one afternoon, she will let her worries be worries and simply live.

She forces her thoughts into a different direction. “The other humans were so happy when I told them.”

She takes Drakon by the hand and together, they walk through the palace. As they do, Miryam tells Drakon about what happened during her negotiation with Cadell. By the time they reach the field just outside of the city gates where the celebration will be held, Miryam is done with her account of what went down in Spring and her mood has become significantly better. Some things probably just feel far better looking back, once the stress of the moment is gone.

The field is freshly harvested, only little stalks remaining of the wheat that grew her. Another tradition, as Miryam has been told. Since the Autumn Festival is kind of a harvest festival, it is usually held on wheat fields. Of course, it is also a festival for Daín, who is one of the Fae’s most important religious figures. Miryam finds the connection a bit strange, but she isn’t exactly well-versed in faerie religions, so there might be something she is missing.

Up until a month ago, she didn’t even believe Daín existed – or the Mother, for that matter. Having been to Cretea and met the man who killed Daín, she had to change her mind on that, but that still doesn’t mean she’s about to start worshipping them as gods. Still, as long as it’s not being used as an excuse to enslave her people or sacrifice them to the gods, she doesn’t actually mind Fae religion. At least what she hears from Drakon seems pretty decent.

“What does Daín have to do with a harvesting festival again?” She asks, leaning in to Drakon so that the people surrounding them won’t hear the question.

She is nearly certain that he told her already, during one of her nightly sessions where he tries to explain all the things she needs to know as Princess of Erithia. The problem with those sessions is just that they are, well, at night, and sometimes, they are both tired enough that they hardly manage to keep their eyes open. If Miryam remembers correctly, she was particularly tired the night they covered Fae religions and her memory of the conversation is sketchy at best.

Drakon doesn’t seem to mind. “The Mother was inconceivable. And, well, she created this world for the creatures living in it, so that they might live happily, but that doesn’t mean that the people could easily understand her intentions.” He shrugs. “But Daín, he was Fae at first, and after he became the Mother’s consort, he set to work on making the world understandable for its inhabitants. He came up with the calendar and the measuring system, and –“ he points at the field surrounding them – “he revolutionized agriculture.”

Miryam grins. “Hence the connection to harvest.”

“Yep.” Drakon takes her by the hand and pulls her towards the long table that has been constructed right on the field. It is near-bursting with all kinds of dishes, most of which Miryam has never even seen before. “And hence the brilliant food.”

----

One of the things Drakon likes best about the Autumn Festival is that for the duration of the celebration, everyone is exactly the same. There are no class divides, no protocol to watch out for. In fact, people are actively encouraged to mingle with people they don’t usually get to talk to.

Drakon ends up sitting next to a baker from the city called Shili. They are a bit flustered in the beginning, but get over it quickly enough. It turns out their wife is working as a captain in Sinna’s army, and that some of the cakes on the table today were created in their bakery. Shili doesn’t seem decided on which fact makes them more proud.

They pick up one of the cakes, red and shaped like a flower, and hold it out to Drakon before putting it down on their plate. “The dough needs to be kneaded and folded a hundred times,” they say, and when Drakon looks surprised, they start explaining the process.

After a while, a blacksmith sitting on the other side of the table joins the conversation and soon, the topic turns to the art of creating Seraphim steel. Drakon does his best to talk to each of the people sitting close to him at least for a bit, but after a while, most people are done eating and start moving around, so his conversation partners keep changing on their own.

Drakon quickly loses track of time. He only notices how late it already is when Miryam sits down on the bench next to him, making him look up and realize that the sun has already fallen almost behind the tips of the nearby mountain range. The people around them incline their heads to Miryam in greeting, some even jump to their feet and bow. Miryam returns the greeting with a nod and a smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she says, turning to Drakon, “but I was wondering if you’d like to go for a dance.”

Indeed, people are already dancing on the fields all around and in the air above. Several hours ago, musicians started playing at the far end of the field, and they kept at it for most of the afternoon.

“Of course,” Drakon says, getting up. He inclines his head to the people surrounding them. “It was wonderful to talk to you. I hope we’ll get the chance again sometime soon.”

He links his arm with Miryam’s and together, they walk over to the dancing floor.

“I was going to ask an hour ago already,” Miryam whispers, nudging him in the side, “but you were so deep in conversation I didn’t dare interrupt.”

“Sorry,” Drakon says, although he doesn’t think Miryam actually minded. She is smiling so brightly her eyes seem to sparkle. Drakon smiles to himself, glad that she actually seems to be enjoying herself.

The musicians are currently in the middle of a fast-paced song, and Miryam pauses by the side of the dancefloor. “Not quite my pace,” she says.

Drakon nods. Miryam is a good dancer, but some Fae songs are written for people with Fae speed, making it impossible for anyone who isn’t fully Fae to keep up.

The next song is slower, though, and together, they step out onto the dancefloor.

“I was speaking to one of the priestesses earlier,” Miryam says, voice lowered slightly. “We ended up talking about Daín and she mentioned how he got murdered by one of his closest friends.” Drakon nods and she continues, “And, well, I didn’t want to ask the priestess because I didn’t want to start a discussion, but I was wondering if there was any reason you know of.”

“Ambition, I think. And arrogance,” Drakon says. “Gh – I mean the witcher who killed Daín was a follower of the Mother before his betrayal, and him and Daín were close friends. But over time, he became arrogant. He started looking down on the Fae and thought himself above them because of how close he was to the Mother and Daín, and he began to want more for himself. He was no longer content with simply serving a goddess and instead wanted to become a god himself. He thought it was his right, and so he used Daín’s trust in him to steal his sword and kill him.”

“And that was his only reason?” Miryam asks. She doesn’t bother to conceal her doubt.

“It’s the way the stories tell it.”

Even as he says it, the words feel hollow. He’s known Ghost for several years now, and he doesn’t seem to be greedy the overly ambitious type. And he doesn’t much like the Fae, yes, but not because he is arrogant. Besides, given Ghost’s stance on slavery, Drakon has been wondering for quite a while if there might not have been more to him stealing the sword than meets the eye.

“Did you ever ask?” Miryam asks.

Drakon shakes his head. He wanted to, but it isn’t exactly easy to discuss these things with Ghost. “You could try, though,” he says. “He’ll be more likely to answer if you ask.”

Miryam nods. “I will,” she says.

They keep dancing through the next three songs, and conversation turns away from Daín and Ghost. The third song just ended and they are both catching their breath when Nephelle appears between them.

She grins at Miryam. “Can I steal you for a dance or two?” She asks.

“Sure.” Miryam squeezes Drakon’s hand once before letting go and stepping back onto the dancefloor with Nephelle just as the musicians start playing the next song.

Drakon lets himself drop down to a bench and reaches for a glass of blue juice. He has just taken the first sip when someone sits down next to him forcefully enough that he nearly spills his juice. Drakon barely manages to keep his glass steady and turns around to the newcomer.

“Kiko!” He grins. “I thought you said you weren’t going to make it!” At least that’s what he said in his last letter, and Drakon didn’t know anything had changed about it.

“I’ve only got an hour,” Kiko says. “My parents aren’t exactly pleased that I bailed out on them on such an important occasion, but they could do little to stop me, and I promised I’d be home in time for the services. But we haven’t seen each other in forever.”

Spontaneously, Drakon throws his arms around Kiko and hugs him. “I’m so happy you’re here,” he whispers.

They haven’t seen each other since the wedding, and then, they hardly had time to talk. There are letters, of course, but Drakon rarely finds time for those, and anyways, letters aren’t the same thing as talking face-to-face. Before the war, they met at least once a month – and before Drakon became Prince, they saw each other daily. He misses that.

“How are you doing?” Kiko asks. “You look tired.”

Drakon shrugs. He looks around to see if anyone is in listening distance, but the seats around them are deserted. Chances are the other guests are keeping a distance on purpose, not wanting to intrude on a private conversation. Drakon turns back to Kiko. “It’s just a bit stressful at the moment,” he says. “Getting everyone to agree on a treaty is a mess, and trying to come up with what will happen after the war is worse. But at least everyone agrees that it will only be a few months, maybe half a year now.”

“That’s good,” Kiko says. He reaches across the table and picks up one of the sweet coconut cakes. “This war has been going on for too long already. I don’t know how much longer I could take this.”

Why? A very small, very petty part of Drakon thinks at that. It’s not like you are fighting. But that’s a stupid thought, ridiculous and useless, and he pushes it away. It’s not like the only people affected by a war are the ones fighting in it, and he never held it against Kiko that he didn’t volunteer to fight. Kiko and fighting never did fit together. (The same goes for Drakon and fighting, but it’s not like there was anything to be done about that.) The annoyance vanishes as quickly as it came, and Drakon thinks that he really must be getting too little sleep if he got worked up over something like this.

“Yes,” he agrees. “I just want it all to be over.”

Kiko nods. He takes a bite from his cake. Chews on his lower lip. He is unusually quiet, and Drakon is a moment away from asking what is wrong when he finally breaks the silence.

“I wanted to talk to you about…” He winces. “Well, first off: I didn’t get to tell you in person yet, but I’m sorry about Jurian. Truly. I never met him, but he sounded like a great man.”

“He was.” Drakon tries hard to ignore the weight that suddenly seems to press down on his chest.

Kiko nods again. “I hope you are doing alright,” he says. “And, well… I hope you and Miryam aren’t pursuing any… less-than-smart plans. Particularly in regards to any resurrections.”

Ah. So that is why he’s being so jumpy. Apparently, he didn’t find Miryam’s reply to his letter convincing enough.

“We aren’t. No need to worry.”

Kiko still doesn’t seem particularly reassured, which is strange since they both know that lying isn’t exactly one of Drakon’s talents. “I’m serious,” he insists. “Even if you should manage, there is always some kind of price to this sort of magic. Resurrections are not something you should just mess around with.”

“We aren’t,” Drakon repeats. “I would lie if I said we never considered it, but…” He shrugs. “We didn’t know if Jurian would have wanted to be resurrected or not. So we couldn’t…”

It had been Drakon who had come up with the idea, three days after Jurian’s funeral. It had been a rash idea, not really thought through, and Miryam had been quick to find the flaw in it: Even if they could resurrect him, which is far from certain, they might not be doing him any favours. Human culture views death different than faeries do, they are far more accepting of it and far less inclined to mess around with it. Miryam said that she probably wouldn’t mind resurrection herself if it was done almost right away, but neither of them knew how Jurian would feel about it, so it was off the table.

“I’ll admit, this was not the reasoning I was hoping for, but at least you’ll stay safe,” Kiko says.

Drakon does his best to chase the thoughts of Jurian away and almost succeeds.

“What makes you think we wouldn’t?” He asks, trying to steer the conversation away from Jurian. “Have you ever known me to be anything but reasonable?”

“Not you, but…” Kiko hesitates. “Please don’t take this as an insult, Miryam picked a fight with the most influential country on the Continent at what – eighteen? That kind of excludes being particularly reasonable. And that’s even without taking into account the stories they tell about her.”

“What stories?” Drakon asks, suddenly curious. He never bothered to find out what rumours are circulating about Miryam or him, but now that Kiko mentions it, he wants to know.

“Oh, lots of them.” Kiko grins. “Did you know that some of the Loyalists claim that she sold her soul to some ancient monster or god in exchange for her power.”

“Well, that’s just petty,” Miryam says from behind them.

Kiko yelps. Drakon, who felt her approaching a moment before she spoke, merely grins and shifts to make space for her on the bench.

“Hello Kiko,” Miryam says and smiles at him as she sits down. For once, she seems genuinely happy, and he is glad that she didn’t hear their conversation about Jurian. “I’m glad you could make it.”

Kiko’s red skin is quickly moving towards purple. He glances frantically between Miryam and Drakon. “He asked,” he says. “Drakon wanted to know…”

Drakon grins down at his hands. He can count the times he has seen Kiko this nervous on one hand – once, he thinks, after he accidentally set fire to the hem of the principal’s coat. But come to think of it, he has never seen Kiko having to interact with one of the high-ups in Continental politics, either.

Miryam waves him off, grinning. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she says. With a wink, she adds, “But for the record, I did not sell my soul to any higher power, good or bad. If you ask me, that’s just a bunch of Loyalists trying to talk themselves out of the fact that they are being defeated by a human.”

“Probably,” Kiko agrees. He already seems to be back to his usual confidence, now that he remembered that Miryam actually likes him. “This isn’t even the most outlandish of the rumours about you, though.”

“Oh, I know. I think a couple of years ago, people in one of the western Loyalist countries – I don’t remember which – were claiming I wasn’t a person at all but some evil spirit that was trying to wreak havoc on the world.” Miryam shrugs. “People come up with the wildest tales.”

Kiko nods and Drakon abruptly decides he doesn’t want to know what other stories people might be telling about Miryam. Or about him. It is kind of funny to listen to those stories knowing they are wrong, but it gets far less amusing when you realize that there are people who actually believe them.

Maybe Miryam feels the same way, because she changes the subject to Kiko’s life at university. Kiko promptly launches into a story about the project he is currently working on and how his professor nearly blew up the classroom during a demonstration.

“Of course, he didn’t get into any trouble at all for it,” he adds, “Apparently, magical accidents are only a problem when they happen to me.”

“Or maybe there is a small difference between almost blowing up a classroom and actually blowing up the new laboratory,” Drakon suggests.

“Traitor,” Kiko mutters and Miryam laughs.

Kiko’s allotted time for the visit is up far too soon and he has to excuse himself to return home. “I’d stay longer,” he says, “but you know how my parents are about services. If I’m late, they’ll be angry for at least a month.”

He hugs Drakon goodbye, and, after a moment’s hesitation, turns to hug Miryam as well.

“Come visit again sometime soon,” Drakon says, clapping Kiko on the shoulder one last time. Kiko nods, waves at them and walks off through the crowd.

Miryam leans against Drakon’s side. “Do you miss university?” She asks.

Drakon hesitates for a moment, then nods. Yes, he misses it. He misses the lessons and discussions, and the free afternoons spent on grounds with the other students. But most of all, he misses the lightness, the carelessness. Back then, he never knew to properly appreciate it, but looking back, it was a privilege to be able to live without any kind of responsibility.

“It was easier,” he says. “Less pressure.”

Of course, there were assignments to complete, but those were usually fun and it certainly wasn’t anything like being in charge of an entire country during a war.

“But with everything that’s going on, I don’t think I could have kept studying there either way,” he adds. “I don’t think I could have… I mean, it’s not judgement of the people who are still there, I understand, but I think I would have wanted to do something to help with the war.”

Miryam nods. “I understand, I think,” she says. “I also miss working as a healer.”

 A few hours later, the festival begins to slowly calm down. The music stops and a crowd forms around the huge pyre that has been erected towards the edge of the field. Loud laughter and talking are replaced by quiet conversations, people shuffling closer together to make space for everyone.

Drakon stands at the very front, Miryam on one side and the Erithian High Priestess on the other. Neither him nor Miryam will have any active role to play in the following services, but tradition gives them the place of honour next to the priestess.

Once the crowd has fully settled, the High Priestess steps forward. She is wearing a red dress, the colour so deep it seems almost brown and woven out of the bark of a rare tree growing towards Erithia’s centre that makes it glow in the beginning dark.

“My friends,” she begins, “today, we have gathered here to celebrate the end of another successful harvest season, and to give thanks for what we were blessed with by the Mother.”

Drakon glances over at Miryam. She has her hands clasped behind her back and is watching the priestess intently, head tilted slightly to the side.

“This has been another year of war,” the priestess continues, “another year of struggle. The harvest has taken losses, but it is still enough to fill the storages, and so we thank the Mother for creating this world that gives us all we need to for living, and we thank Daín for giving us the knowledge to use it.”

The speech continues on for half an hour. Then, the priestess reaches for the torch that has been planted in the ground next to her feet. Next to Drakon, Miryam flinches ever so slightly, the movement only noticeable because she is standing to close to him. Drakon digs his fingers into the fabric of his coat as the priestess steps forward and holds her torch against the wood of the pyre. Drakon watches the flames lick up the wood and tries not to let his discomfort show. As a child, he used to love it when the pyres were lit, but these days, it only ever makes him think of death and funerals.

“Now, to honour Daín and all he did to catalogue this world,” the priestess continues, “let us each give one important date of the last year over to the flames so that it may be remembered by history.” With that, she pulls a folded paper out of the hem of her robes and throws it into the flames.

Drakon goes second. Slowly, he takes the piece of paper he prepared in the morning out of his pocket – it seems to weigh far more than any piece of paper has a right to – and throws it into the flames. Miryam follows his example. Then, they step back to make space for the next.

People begin to form a long line, stepping towards the flames one after the other to throw their papers in, each containing a note about one occasion in the last year that they hope will be remembered. Miryam seems to have already caught herself; her face is perfectly composed as she watches the proceedings.

“What did you write about?” Drakon asks softly without turning to face her.

“Jurian,” Miryam answers. She is still watching the people who are throwing their papers into the flames, and her face remains politely curious, but there is no mistaking the sadness in her voice. “You?”

“Me too,” Drakon says.

 The pyre ceremony marks the official end of the festival, but many of the attendees stay long past it. As soon as the last person threw their paper into the flames, the musicians started playing again, and people returned to their dancing and eating. In other years, Drakon stayed past midnight, too, but today, it only takes one shared look between him and Miryam for them to agree that they will retire early. The pyre ceremony brought with it far too many memories of Jurian and left neither of them in a very festive mood.

Arms linked, they slowly walk away from the celebrations and back towards the city. Their guards follow several feet behind, well out of hearing distance.

“I don’t think I feel like going to bed already,” Miryam says.

Drakon nods. By all accounts, he should be tired since he barely slept the last few nights, but right now, he wouldn’t be able to sleep either way. His last conversation with Jurian is replaying in his mind, and it will just get worse if he lies alone in bed.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” He asks. “Somewhere quiet.”

Miryam nods. “Our usual spot? Then we could also use the chance to visit our friend there.”

“Good idea,” Drakon says. They had planned on visiting Ghost yesterday, but they had to cancel their plans because Miryam had to prepare for her meeting with Cadell and Drakon went over his proposal for the council together with Andromache. “I’ll go clear it up with the guards.”

 -

“You’re back earlier than I thought.” Ghost’s voice appears a moment before he does. His dark hair falls almost to his shoulders today, and his eyes stand a bit further apart than usual.

“We needed a break,” Drakon says, glancing over at Miryam. Her mood seems to have lightened significantly since they arrived on Cretea. “And we had some time. It’s the festival of…” He trails off awkwardly, remembering a moment before he says the name that Ghost was the one who murdered Daín. He winces slightly. Well, this is awkward. “The Autumn Festival,” he finishes somewhat lamely.

“Ugh,” Ghost says, wrinkling his face in a way that doesn’t quite manage to replicate an actual grimace. It looks more like a piece of paper is being crumbled. “You’re still holding festivals for him? Don’t you have better people to celebrate?”

Drakon frowns at him, but doesn’t know what to say. Of course Ghost, who murdered Daín, didn’t like him. He could have figured that much out himself. It was stupid of him to bring up the topic.

“Who would you celebrate, then?” Miryam asks. She sounds genuinely curious, and Ghost immediately seems appeased. He really does like her.

“There was a woman I knew once,” he says. “Her name was Rashida. She would deserve a festival in her name.”

Drakon never heard that name before, and now, he is curious as well. “Rashida?” He asks, hoping Ghost will explain who she was. If Ghost knew her personally, she must have lived many millennia ago.

“Yes.” Ghost smiles at Miryam. “You would have liked her, I think. She was just as stubborn as you are.”

“I prefer determined,” Miryam says lightly. Drakon laughs. “What was she so stubborn about, then?”

Ghost smiles, almost fondly. Whoever this Rashida was, Drakon realizes he must have genuinely liked her. “Oh, many things,” he says. “She was Queen of the Black Land, you know?”

Miryam tenses immediately. “Very funny,” she says in a tone that makes it very clear that she finds this anything but funny. Drakon frowns at Ghost. It is unlike him to make such tasteless jokes.

Motions jerky, Ghost lifts his hands, as if in surrender. “She was human,” he says.

Both Miryam and Drakon freeze. Miryam catches herself more quickly than he does, and echoes, “Human? But…” She shakes her head. “The Black Land is Fae. It has always belonged to the Fae.”

That was Drakon’s understanding as well, and he always made a point to know as much as possible about the early days of their world, if only because of his family’s involvement in that time. But because of this, he also knows that the historical records of those days are far from complete, and that the past has the unfortunate tendency to be coloured by the interests of people in the present. So what Ghost is saying is… well, it certainly isn’t impossible.

Ghost lets out a harsh laugh. “Nothing in this world,” he says, gesturing vaguely, “has always belonged to the Fae.”

----

Miryam’s head is spinning. She heard what Ghost said, but she doesn’t quite manage to process it. The implications are too big, too world-changing. Miryam spent her entire life hearing that the current state of the world is natural. That, ever since that Fae’s goddess created the world for them, the Fae ruled and the humans were property. But now…

A human Queen of the Black Land. The world not always belonging to the Fae. It changes… Well, in the grand scheme of things, Miryam supposes it changes nothing at all. Even if this world had been made for the Fae, she would still fight for her people’s freedom. But it is still a validation of sorts, to know that her people have as much of a right to this world as the Fae do.

She turns to Drakon, grinning. He smiles back at her and squeezes her hand.

Still, she needs certainty. Needs more information.

“What do you mean?” Miryam asks. Her voice sounds raw and scratchy.

“Let’s just say that the Fae weren’t always kings and queens of this world. And humans certainly weren’t always slaves,” Ghost says. “But Rashida lived in a time when slavery had already spread throughout most of the Continent.” With a wink at Drakon, he adds, “And yes, Étaín was still around at that time. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions from that.” Drakon’s smile dims a little, but Miryam still has her full attention on Ghost as he continues. “Rashida was a slave herself for several years, until she escaped. She united the human states in the area that is now the Black Land and became its first queen.”

Miryam tries to imagine it – a Black Land ruled by humans. But no matter how hard she tries, all images that will come to her mind involve Fae parading through their beautiful palaces, humans in shackles, humans bleeding and dying. She feels a stab of pity for Rashida, whose country some ancestor of Ravenia’s must have stolen and turned into the nightmare it is now. She wonders if Ravenia knows that her country is built on the bones of a human civilisation, that her precious ancestors are no more than thieves.

Maybe she’ll tell her one day.

“When was that?” Drakon asks. He seems almost as excited as she is. “In the year one thousand? Two thousand?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know,” Ghost replies lightly. “Her and your ancestors had dealings with each other quite frequently. Although I suppose ‘dealings’ is a pleasant way to put her storming Erithia and chasing your ancestors out of the region for the next couple of centuries.”

“What?” Drakon asks.

“Well, that’s what happens if you try to own people as slaves, right?” Ghost shrugs. “Rashida wasn’t any happier about it than Miryam is, and I believe she did show your ancestors just that.”

Drakon doesn’t reply. He looks shocked, like he can’t quite belief what he is hearing. Miryam doesn’t entirely understand what is so unbelievable about it, but right now, she has bigger concerns.

“You said she united human states,” she says. “How… I mean… Would you tell me?”

Ghost nods and begins to talk. Miryam listens, trying to commit each word to her memory, still not quite believing that this is real. This is her history. A history that goes beyond death and suffering and slavery, some precedent of humans fighting against Fae and succeeding.

Only in the end, they must still have lost. “How long did it last?” She asks softly, not quite wanting to hear the answer but knowing that something must have happened to make things to change from the world Ghost describes to the one she knows.

But Ghost’s form darkens at those words. “I don’t want to talk about that,” he says. Then, without giving her a chance to reply, he vanishes.

Miryam stares at the spot where he was standing until a moment ago, shaking her hand. “Still, thank you for telling me,” she tells the empty air. She never quite figured out where Ghost goes when he disappears, but maybe he still hears her. “It truly means a lot.”

Then, she turns to Drakon. He looks… well, he looks like he’s unhappy about something, but trying hard not to show it. It confuses Miryam. She supposes she understands that it’s not pleasant to hear a story where your people are the villains, but it is still strange for Drakon to react like that. She had thought he’d be as excited as she is about the news about human history, not moping around because the Fae were once again the bad guys in the story, or because his country got an apparently well-deserved ass-kicking several millennia ago.

It is unlike Drakon to react this way. And Miryam doesn’t like it. But maybe she’s misreading.

“Do we want to go outside?” She asks. “We could take a walk. Give Ghost some peace.”

Drakon nods, not quite meeting her eyes. “Sure,” she mutters.

By the time they left the cave, door closed safely behind them, Miryam decided that she was indeed wrong: Drakon isn’t acting strange because he is upset over what Ghost said, but because he somehow seems to expect her to be upset with him. No matter how hard Miryam tries, though, she can’t figure out why he would think that.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, because it’s probably better to clear this up right away instead of leaving whatever-this-is standing between them.

“What?” Drakon asks, flinching slightly.

Miryam sighs. “If you were upset, I could understand why.” Although she certainly wouldn’t like it. “But you are acting like you expect me to be angry with you, and I really don’t get it.”

Drakon starts tapping around on his leg. “I’m sorry,” he says, which just confuses Miryam more since she has no idea what he is apologizing for. “I didn’t know.”

“I never thought you did,” Miryam says. She is getting more bewildered with each moment. How would Drakon have known that the Black Land was originally human?

“Yes, but…” Drakon shakes his head. “I just… I didn’t know my ancestors… I thought they were…”

Miryam blinks. Does Drakon really worry that she is angry with him over something his ancestors did almost ten thousand years ago? She knows that the Fae put a lot of stock into ancestries and who is related to whom, but even knowing that, this sees rather outlandish.

“Drakon,” she says, shaking her head slightly, “I am never going to be angry with you over something that happened ten thousand years ago, no matter whether the person who did it was related to you or not.” And she can’t help but feel that the only reason why they are having that problem is that Drakon can even trace his family back that far. Most people simply wouldn’t know if some asshole who lived millennia ago happened to be related to them. She sighs and reaches for his hand. “You aren’t a good person because your ancestors were. Whether they were saints or monsters has no bearing at all on what kind of person you are.”

Besides, she never thought that all of Drakon’s ancestors were good people. She gets that he did – pretending your ancestors were generally on the right side of history seems to be a thing most royal families do – but she never had any such illusions. She always thought that Erithia was likely involved in slavery at one point in history, and even if they weren’t, standing by and allowing it to happen elsewhere isn’t that much better in her eyes. And then there is the matter of Drakon’s father who was, as far as Miryam can tell, definitely not what she’d consider to be a good person. She isn’t going to bring that up, though, not when Drakon is just beginning to look a bit less stressed.

“Oh.” He runs a hand through his hair and smiles, clearly relieved. “I thought you might mind. Because you married into my family and all.”

Miryam is about to say that no, of course she doesn’t mind, but then, that wouldn’t be entirely honest. “If it had happened in living memory,” she says, “I think I would have minded. Not because of your ancestors specifically, though, but because I wouldn’t have wanted to rule over a country of former slave owners.” She hesitates, considering whether she needs to say something comforting or not. “You’re alright?” She asks, just to be sure.

“Yes of course.” Drakon shakes his head. Now, he seems angry with himself. “I’m sorry. You really don’t need to comfort me about this, that must be awkward for you, I’m…” He throws his head into the air. “Sorry,” he repeats.

Miryam doesn’t entirely feel like he needs to apologize this much, but at this point, it seems best to just change the subject. Fortunately, that’s what she wants to do anyways, since Drakon’s ancestors ten thousand years ago having been assholes was honestly the least interesting part of what Ghost told them.

“Alright,” she says. “So, about the rest of what Ghost said…”

“Yes.” Now, she finally gets the reaction she had been hoping for earlier. Drakon grins and reaches for her hand. “As soon as we are back, I’ll ask for some books from the library. Maybe we’ll find some historical records on this Rashida, or anything about that time.”

“If there were any, don’t you think we would have heard?” Miryam asks. Her heart is beating giddily fast and it takes quite some self-control to keep from jumping up and down in excitement.

“Well, not necessarily,” Drakon says. “There might be some historical documents or ruins that have been deliberately misinterpreted by Fae historians. But if we know what to look for, we could find something. And if we do, we could pass it on to some historians, see it published. And when news get out…”

“It would mean so much,” Miryam finishes for him. “I mean, the Loyalists would probably deny it, but for us…” She smiles, shaking her head. “It would mean to much,” she repeats.

----

A/N: I feel like I could say this after every chapter, but once again: A huge thanks to @croissantcitysucks for their help with and contributions to this chapter. Rashida was their idea, as well as large parts of the entire Ghost/Daín/the Mother story and the culture surrounding it and Before the Wall wouldn't be the story it is without out conversations about it❤

[strawberrywritings]

Second problem.

A/N: I am an hour late to posting this and i haven’t proofread, but to make up for it: Señor Galindo makes another appearance! I honestly hope i managed to tag everyone because sometimes i lose a username (sorry in advance)🙈 

Hope you like this chapter, ad if you want, let me know what you think in my askbox xx 🍓

ps: look how cute Angel is when he sleeps!!!!!

/ Previous parts

The next hour and a half went by in a blur. You and Angel sat on the sofa as he proceeded to explain to you everything about what he did with the club: the drugs, the tunnels, his past, his mom. Multiple glasses of water later, there was a thick silence in the room, your arms were crossed over your chest as you stared everywhere but him, and he sat there defeated, because he knew what was coming: heartbreak.

He was the first to break the silence, “I opened up myself to you, please say something”. His voice was desperate and your heart ached. “I don’t know what to say. This is… a lot”, you had tears in your eyes, and he might not be a genius like EZ, but he could see how uncomfortable he had made you. And he hated himself for it. He nodded in understanding, and you spoke again, your voice wavering. “I just… I hope you can understand this isn’t easy for me”, rejection was coming Angels’ way, he was sure of it, so he did what he did best: building his walls back and acting as if he wasn’t breaking inside.

“It wasn’t easy for me to tell you all of that shit, either”, his voice got rougher and you looked at him, a frown on your face as your tone got firmer, too. “Well, I’m sorry I’m not used to all of this drug bullshit. – you looked at him, and while the strong façade you had put on started to crumble, Angel’s eyes stayed hard, staring into yours – I’m sorry I’m not from your world, I’m sorry I can’t understand what you’re going through. I can try, for you, but now I just need to come to terms with everything you told me. This may be just another day to you, but not for me. All I’m asking is some time”, you finished your rant with a sob, and his gaze softened at seeing you like that, he wanted to hug you so bad, but he was playing the role of the big bad biker and couldn’t get out of character now. El Pardino’s words echoed in his mind, “If she doesn’t accept it, you just let her go”. He was too afraid of losing you, and he thought that acting like this would make it hurt less. “Call me when you wanna talk”, he got up, making his way to the door and getting out of your house, not looking back.

You remained on the couch, the same couch you and Angel had spent so much time making out and cuddling on, it had become a place for sadness. You cried, and doubted your feelings towards him: was this a sign that it was best to break up with him? Could you take what came with this life? Would this happen again? That night, you couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes, your saw the pictures again, and every time it was hard to breath. Angel rode home, entering his apartment as if he was in a daze, he walked straight to the cupboard ad grabbed a bottle of tequila, drowning his feelings in alcohol and weed. He drank to escape his reality, to pretend that everything was fine, just for one night.

/

Angel arrived at the yard late, but when he did show up, everyone could see he looked like shit. He didn’t say a word to anyone and walked straight to the bar, asking Chucky for a bottle of water and some painkillers for his terrible headache. He kept quiet for most of the morning, and then lunchbreak came, so he sat at a random table and began eating. “Ain’t your girl coming around, today? – Coco spoke, plopping down next to his best friend – you could use some tlc to get that fucking shitty mood off yourself”. Angel winced at the mention of you, and Coco looked at him, his brows furrowed. “Nah, I’m good”, Angel replied and continued to eat; his friend kept quiet but looked at EZ, who just shook his head, signaling he also didn’t know what was going on.

In the afternoon, after work, EZ (poor guy, always babysitting and taking care of the others) had to snatch away his brother’s third beer, telling him to go home and get his shit together. That had made Angel scowl at him. “Mind your fucking business, prospect”, he spat the last word like it was an insult. Everyone was silent, not daring to challenge him if he was in a bad mood. Angel didn’t say anything else as he grabbed his stuff and stormed out the clubhouse, Coco going after him. “Hey, hermano, where ya going?”. “Home”. “Talk to me, c’mon”, Coco grabbed his arm and Angel yanked it away harshly, turning towards the other man and looking at him with angry eyes. “I told her everything and she said some shit about needing her space”, Angel huffed out and put his helmet on. “Everything?”. “Everything, Coco. And now I am alone again. I’d appreciate all of you not pouring salt into the wound and just letting me be”. He started his bike and sped off the parking lot, leaving a stunned Coco standing there. When he went back inside and relayed the information to his brothers, they all felt sorry for him and agreed that it would be best to leave him some time to cool off. Nonetheless, the old Angel was, seemingly, back.

/

You, on your end, weren’t doing much better. You had cried yourself to sleep on the couch, woke up late and had to rush to work. All day, you couldn’t think about anything other than the man that had been in your life for the past months. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side: as soon as the bell rang, marking the start of lunch time, you smelled a familiar cologne, and you turned just in time to see Miguel Galindo approaching you; he was wearing an almond-coloured suit with the usual white shirt underneath, perfectly complementing his skin. He invited you to have lunch with him at the same café you had been to a couple of weeks prior, and you figured you could use some distraction.

Miguel had done his homework: he had Nestor find out what he could about you, where you were from, what schools you attended, how you got to Santo Padre. Knowing all these things (but bringing them up in a way you wouldn’t be able to know he knew), it was easy for him to hold a conversation with you, even though he noticed how you seemed to space out from time to time.

“Is everything alright?”, he politely asked. You were brought out of your thoughts, and you softly smiled at him. “Yes, I’m sorry, I zoned out”, you apologetically smiled and shook your head. “Something’s bothering you?”, he asked, straightening up and leaning forward towards you. “Just… a rough night. Nothing that a good night of relax can’t fix”, you lied, still smiling at him and looking at the time on your phone. “I should probably get back, I have a class in 15 minutes”, you got up and gathered your things in your purse, grabbing the check, which was immediately snatched from your hand. “I’m not letting you pay, señorita. It was my pleasure to have lunch with you”, his hand brushed the small of your back, almost imperceptibly, and he said something to the waiter, who nodded and Miguel led you out of the place.

/

You were talking by the entrance of the school, just after the bell rang, when you heard the roar of a bike approaching. Instinctively, you averted your gaze from the man in front of you just in time for EZ to climb off his bike and spot you, and spot Miguel: Taza had sent him to see what was wrong with Angel.

“Hey”, he shortly greeted you with a smile, his eyes meeting Miguel’s, who was standing way too close to you for EZ’s liking. “Prospect – Miguel said, an amused smile on his face – what brings you here?”. “Family business, actually. – the prospect turned to you and smiled, completely ignoring the look on the other man’s face – got a minute?”. You nodded and turned to Miguel, “I’m sorry, I have to go”. “Don’t worry, we’ll catch up some other time”, he leaned in and kissed your cheek, a common greeting. EZ looked at the two of you with wide eyes, but as soon as he could, he dragged you over to where his bike was parked but didn’t let go of your arm. He asked you what happened with Angel and you gave him a brief explanation, you really didn’t want to think about last night, or Angel, at all at the moment, and he felt it, too, so he let you be.

“And what the hell was that? Galindo? Really?”, he crossed his arms on his chest and you did the same, not liking the implications of his tone. “It was just lunch. God forbid I relax for an hour, eh? You and club have all these girls around, ready to throw themselves at you – and don’t say it’s not true or it doesn’t matter, Ezekiel. I’ve seen the way they look at y’all, at Angel… I had a shitty night and for once someone manages to get my mind off that, and it’s a problem?”, tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, all the emotions you held inside, spilling out. He never meant to insinuate something, and the fact that you were feeling like shit, just like his brother, meant that the discussion had taken a toll on you, too. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it was Miguel Galindo who helped you take your mind off of Angel.

You sniffled and lowered your head to regain some composure, first of all, because you were in public and secondly because you knew that your outburst to EZ was uncalled for, and he didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to. – you said and he nodded, his gaze was full of understanding, but you still felt bad – I have to go, now. I’ll see you”, and with that, you made your way to your car and left. EZ followed your car with his eyes, and when he was sure you couldn’t see him, he got out his phone and called his brother. “Angel, you gotta get your girl back, rápido”.

taglist @scuzmunkie​ @ifoundmyhappythought​ @starrynite7114​ @angelreyesgirl​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @claytoncardenasbabymama​ @peaches007​ @chibsytelford​ @thickemadame​ @mrsjaxtellerfan​ @cocotheclown​ @elcococruz​ @woahitslucyylu​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @justahopelessssromantic​ @gemini0410​ @imagineredwood​ @samcrobae​ @enamoured-x​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @brattyfics​ @blessedboo​ @sadeyesgf​ @rebel-without-cause-x​ @general-tiny-mouse​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @wrcn9fvlcver​ @ly--canthrope​ @soaronmywings​ @cind-in-real-life​ @danie1432​ @briannab1234​ @spookys-girl​ @blackmissfrizzle​

[tellywoodtrash]

Hey TT! Wishing well to you and yours! I just wanted to drop an appreciation note for you.

I'm the kind of person who can't watch things without engaging, and tellywood is the kinda guilty pleasure I can't really share with my friends because woh sab exclusively intelligent, highbrow, foreign cinema hi dekhte hain, which is fun, but I often need a break from that kinda content for my stressbusting. So when I watch lighter rom-com type stuff, or desi content, I tend to turn online for the social aspect of it all. But hey bhagwan, I've been in problematic fandoms before but ITV ka toh next hi level hai. Khoon jal jaata hai, in this cesspool of toxicity and misogyny. I am old enough to remember when IF used to be the main fandom space, and it used to piss me off and turn me off of entire shows. And aaj, IF has become the saner of the spaces looking at the asinine stuff on Twitter and Instagram...

Often, I'm not put off by the acts of the characters themselves- to make stories progress, occasional fuckups can be accepted in fiction. I don't love it, but I'm okay acknowledging it's problematic (and often criminal irl) and moving on from it. Asli gussa toh response dekh kar aata hai, which more often than not defends harassment, character assassination, and abuse of the FL by the ML just because he is 'in pain' or 'misunderstood' or has a 'heart of gold' or the FL is doing something mildly inconvenient which made her deserving of the disproportionate retribution. And this support comes from a demographic that's predominantly young girls- toh gusse ke saath saath fikar bhi ho jaati hai. Mission stressbusting: failed. Sometimes, reading all that makes me majorly second guess my own emotions, but then I see 'feminist' thrown about as an abuse and I remember that fandoms suck.

And then I found your blog a few years ago! And it's been jannat for my tellywood watching experience ever since. I love the fact that you watch and enjoy this content with us, while not shying away from your feminism, and calling out even characters you like for crossing lines, irrespective of their gender (but lbr, men cross way more lines in these shows). I so appreciate the balance you maintain here, and honestly this blog has become my one stop shop for desi content, be it for recommendations or discussions or opinions. Ab toh wohi dekhti hoon jo aap recommend kar dein, warna yeh saara space kaafi intimidating hai. One day, I shall find the mental fortitude to seal myself off from all non-Tumblr online fandoms and save myself the BP issues that come with it, tab tak ke liye thanks for being an oasis of rationality in this madness.

Love always ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dearest lovely anon,

Thank you so so much for this wonderful message. So much of it resonated with me, and is why I created this blog in the first place. I too have IRL friends who don’t watch Tellywood and I just needed to get all these opinions outta me; but I was also so tired of the IF model where there’s too many people talking at once, but not having the conversations I wanted, and Twitter toh was never my forte coz brevity really isn’t my thing....... When I made the blog I wasn’t expecting it to turn into what it ultimately has, coz I felt so alone in the fandom, that no one was as obsessed the way I was (definitely waaaaaay more than the average watcher, but less than the online Tellywood fandom), but also enraged and angrily critical at the constant chutiyaapa that was even in my very favourite shows. Yes I really hate the misogyny and toxicity on the ML/families parts, but I also really hate the mostly one-dimensional way Tellywood FLs are written, with almost negligible complexity to them. So I just made this a space for me to go on my rambles (whether positive or negative) and to my surprise and delight, people responded to it. So as always, I guess this is just a hugeass thanks from me to everyone who likes and comments and sends asks, coz y’all really keep me wanting to keep on doing this. 🤗🤗🤗🥰🥰🥰✨✨✨

PS - I’m sure that there’s good stuff out there that I’m not watching (coz I’m me - a lazy POS who has to be in a VERY specific mood to watch something) so do consider checking out the recs my followers send in as well. Just coz I’m willfully missing out on quality content rn coz of my dheentness doesn’t mean it won’t be up your alley either! 😘😘😘

[safarigirlsp]

Hey darling!

I feel bad that I haven’t had a chance to read your new Clyde fic..super busy with real life, but looking forward to it when I get the opportunity. But I just heard about the drama here today and I am so shocked, angered and appalled that you of all people are being targeted. Adam is getting a break from their hostility.

The cancel culture within the ADCU fandom is beyond ridiculous and childish, as you and I have discussed in the past. The entire atmosphere is toxic while there are pockets that are not. High school for adults is a good way to describe it because the dynamics are essentially the same: cliques/bullies, the good ones and the outsiders. While some may self-appoint themselves as judge/jury/executioner of the entire group, no one is better than anyone else even if they think they are. Condemning you and your supporters over FICTION is scraping the bottom of the barrel of pettiness and bitterness. Maybe some jealousy thrown in? Showing their true colors for sure.

Are people truly that unable to differentiate fiction from reality? Just because something is written as a story does NOT in any way mean you are describing your reality. It’s not an autobiography so why are people treating it like it is? Everyone preaches everyday about “click the back button and the block button if something bothers you that much” but it doesn’t seem to apply to the ones who feel victimized and go on the attack “because they’re exempt “. Doesn’t work that way.

Love you and wanted to share my support because there is no excuse for this behavior. You are an amazing writer and person in general and I am honored to call you a true friend. :)

Michele!! Thank you so much for sending this to me!!! I deeply appreciate your ongoing support and taking the time to send this to me! I’m sorry you’re present for yet another episode of As Tumblr Turns, but I think we’re all used to it by now! 🤣

I know you’re aware of the cancel culture, too, and I agree that it’s appalling. I’ve seen it happen to a few of my close friends and it enraged me to no end. It’s like there’s a High Council sitting around discussing who should be cancelled next and why before floating around their chickenshit little posts. I’m honestly glad they chose me as opposed to someone else because I’m the wrong person to try this bs with. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to stop doing my thing. I’m not going to stop writing what I want. And this has fueled me to get some serious writing done in the last couple days, which is just the shot of whiskey I needed! I hope they think twice before trying to cancel the next girl.

I haven’t even lost that many followers, which tells me that people reblog the cancel bs because it’s good PR to do so but they don’t really give it the time of day 🤣. I should still be good to go for a big follower milestone in July! Please send me any ideas you have for prompts or stories btw!

The story everyone is up in arms about (pun intended lol) is set during the Civil War. But that’s the extent of it lol. It’s tagged appropriately. There’s no political commentary whatsoever. It’s just a historical setting that I wanted to use for an AU because it isn’t duplicative of one of my other stories or of someone else’s. I wanted something with horses and war wounds consistent with Clyde for a wounded soldier trope. It’s really not deeper than that lol. His accent doesn’t really work for, say, a Revolutionary War AU lol. I personally refuse to write an entire period of history off as being off limits because people want to throw tantrums about it. Honestly, how many books and movies are set during that era? Maybe one day AD will make a movie set during that time and really piss everyone off. I would personally give a kidney to see him star in a remake of The Outlaw Josey Wales directed by Clint Eastwood!

I’m writing a smutty part two as we speak to post later tonight to celebrate today’s fandom fireworks! It’s best to get it in while this is still topical before people forget about it next week 🤣.

Thank you for your friendship and support! You’ll always have mine as well! 💗

PS. Look for a screenshot of this to be added to circulating collection 🤣

[thousandsunnywrites]

How about law meeting a girl who has the same energy as Luffy and tends to touch him in some way all the time, her favorite being ridding on his back. He has long since given up trying to get her to stop, only to find out when he teams up with the straw hats she’s Luffy’s sister by blood. The oldest of Ace Sabo and Luffy.

Law

Law x f!reader; romantic

⤷ a/n: g o l l y this ficlet was a whopping 2.7k words 😭😭i really do love picking on law; also ps this isn’t proofread yet so enjoy the rawness ty

----

“traaafFFFYYYY!” He stumbles forward to balance the sudden weight tossed on his back, hands instinctively grabbing the legs wrapped around him. His life was never like this, until you came around.

It was a regular night in the submarine, Law doing his routinely watch through the sub’s finder. What the hell is that, he zoomed in to get a better view of the blurry image, hm, what is that?

He found a floating bucket under the sea with a tightly sealed lid and a hole carved on the upside with a plastic straw sticking out. Confused and hoping it was some lost gold, he made Bepo fish out the container and check it out. Instead of finding what he hoped to uncover, he discovered a limp body of a young female.

“It’s not breathing, captain! What if it’s been purposely tossed into sea... what if...” his words begin to trail off when the horrid realization of the sea being the graveyard to rest the corpse crossed his mind. He shrieked. They messed with the dead! They’re going to die! He watched too many Asian horror films to know where this is going.

Not before long, Law sighed out of annoyance, moving Bepo’s paw from the right side of the chest to the left, instantly calming down his tremors and leaving the poor bear sheepish.

Footsteps approach Law’s office and busted through the door. Low and behold, it was no other than Penguin and Shachi.

“Cap’n!! What’s wrong? We heard Bepo scream!—” Penguin tugged on Shachi’s sleeve, forcing his attention to the corpse curled in the bucket. Bepo covered both mouths before a squall was ripped from their throats, “Shh... it’s alive.”

“Room,” the iconic blue sphere encapsulates the room as Law unsheathes his Kikoku, “Scan.” The sliver glint of the sword flickered against the blue hue as it perused the physique. Producing no results, he sheathed his sword. “None” was all he could report.

“Oh thank god!” Penguin leaned over the large wooden pail, examining the face of the woman. “She’s kinda cute,” his hand reaches out to caress her cheek. “Mind if I say that I saved her?” He bantered with a sly smile.

“Move outta the way, lemme see!” Shachi shoved Penguin, an instant grin apparent inside his face.

“Stop fucking around.” Law jostled the apologetic duo to hoist majority of the body’s upper half out the bucket. “Bepo-ya, grab the feet”

“Roger!” He saluted before doing as told.

“Pen-ya, Shachi-ya,” their attentions turned to him, responding with a “Yes, boss?”, to which Law replied, “Get out.” As they left, the captain and first mate transfer the patient to the resting ward and laid her on a more comfortable bed.

“Catch some sleep, Bepo-ya.”

“What about you Captain? Who’s gonna watch her if she wakes up?”

“I will. Go ahead and sleep. Lack of sleep isn’t good for your fur.”

Bepo bowed, trusting all will go well since the captain was watching over her, and left to do as told. Meanwhile, Law pulled out a chair and raised his feet atop the bed. It was going to be a long night.

Surely, he must’ve fallen asleep because next thing he knows, he’s the one in bed and his crew bustled in the kitchen. It was a different ruckus this time; it wasn’t the same morning liveliness he knew, no, it was something more like... a party?

He made his way to the kitchen, head slightly pounding due to the loud vibrations bouncing off the walls. Swinging the kitchen door open, he’s faced with a festive bunch surrounding a stranger. Who the hell is she and how’d she infiltrate my ship?

Now on alert, he reached for his sword, preparing to attack but was stopped by his lovable white bear, who had multiple syrup stains resting on his fur. “Captain!!! Look!! She’s awake!!”

Who?

Oh yeah, the bucket girl.

“Yeah man that was suuuuperrrr crazy! I really thought I was gonna die out there!” A guffaw rumbled in the room, the crowd listening intently to what you have to say, “dude there was this big—and I mean big— whirlpool! With nowhere else to go, I just hid in a good ol’ barrel and hoped for the best.”

“Woah, you’re so cool Y/n!” The crew chanted as Law made his way through the crowd, sitting rightfully at his bench, head against his propped up hand.

“Hey, you must be the captain!” You greeted him with a hearty laugh while you reached over to the opposite side to pat his back, unintentionally thrusting his body forward with every rough pat.

“Don’t touch me,” he pulled away and dusted himself off, “I take it you’re better. Any pain?”

Completely ignoring his question, you continued, “Yeah how rude of me, I’m Y/n!!! I’m sorry for intruding so suddenly, it’s just I thought I was gonna die out there because—“

He held up a hand and finished the same sentence you said prior, “Yeah, yeah, there was a whirlpool and you thought you were gonna die, so your pea-sized brain said to stuff yourself in a barrel and hope for the best, yes, I’ve heard it earlier.” He said all in one breath. This amount of stupidity reminded him of a certain captain he was supposed to meet soon.

Instead of feeling offended, a big cackle bursted in the suddenly tense room. “I like you!” Slamming down your fist on his table as a sign of determination, he saw that same look of craze. Oh, how he could never forget that gaze.

“From here on out, I’m your crewmate now.” Cheers erupted from your mates, picking you up in rejoice to congratulate your recruitment.

“No, everyone quiet. You are not a part of my crew. Find yourself another place to loiter in. We don’t accept stowaways here.”

“Yeah no, it’s fine! I’ve been looking for a crew anyways.”

“I am captain of this ship and when I say I will toss you overboard if you insist you’re a Heart Pirate, I will toss you—”

“Y’all I’m hungry, got any food? Preferably meat, yeah?”

“Do not feed her.”

They feed you anyways despite his protests. He didn’t need another one like him on his ship, let alone in his crew.

“By the way, what’s your name Mr. Captain?” A piece of meat was ripped right off the bone. What a slob, Law grit his teeth, and as if I’ll accept her messy behavior. I’m tossing her right off the sub when she’s done.

“It’s Trafalgar Law!” Penguin chimes in, beating the captain to his own introduction. He grunts in annoyance. “Address him as Captain or doctor,” added Bepo.

“MMmmmmm,” your face twisted comically after a brief ponder, “Too boring, how ‘bout Lawsy?”

“No.”

“Trally?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gar.”

“Just shut up, I’m losing brain cells from you. Address me accordingly.”

“Okay, Traffy.” You burped as you chugged down the last of the juice.

Law could only sigh, because even if he threw you overboard, he’d still be stuck with you.

And that’s how it all circles back to Law giving you a ride on his back while walking along in the designated plaza. This is how his normal looks like nowadays. And nowadays, he doesn’t complain, even if he hates being ordered around, he just does it. His crew speculates him having only a soft spot for you, but he denies it every time. It was obvious though.

Today was the day he and Luffy agreed to meet at Dressrosa to take down that son of a bitch named Doflamingo. Everything was going as plan.

“Hey, Tra-guy!” The strawhats called putting from the other end of plaza, stirring a commotion contrasting the daily chatter of the citizens. He scans around and only sees Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky out of the troublesome gang. Where’s Luffy?

His grip tightened to hold you in place after your legs thrashed around in excitement, that never leaving irksome grin plastered on your features as always. “Stay still,” he sneered as he forced your legs to settle.

“Woah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Y/n,” Usopp whispered to Nami, to which she nodded in agreement.

“My, they have gotten quite close,” Robin’s chuckle was covered by her hand.

“Wow!” Franky drawled out, his stance in his usual super pose, “Since when did you two get together?” The glint of his shades gleamed as Law approached.

Law simply responded with a “Never” and carried on with discussing the plan that Luffy and most likely his crew won’t follow suit—but it was worth a shot. Hell, he didn’t even bother to explain it to you, knowing you’d do your own thing anyways like what you were trying to do now.

“Traff, Traff, Traff!” With every chant, you kicked your legs outwards to catch his attention.

“What, what, what.” He propped his arms upwards to readjust your sagging position caused by the sudden movements. The strawhats paused their chatter, noting that the stoic doctor had no sign of vexation on his face. That was a first.

“I’m hungry,” you smooshed his cheeks together. With a lilt, you asked, “Food?”

He casually nods, telling you “Later”, inattentive to the cheek smooshing and now cheek pulling. Nobody said anything, but it was obvious he had a soft spot. I mean, nobody can touch him—let alone his face— like that. If they tried, they’d be in a million pieces.

“Guys!!” The scream approached fast along with a mob of angry citizens following, “Got the meat! Now run!” The strawhat captain zoomed by, dragging the rest of his crew and allies along with him until stopping at a hidden alleyway.

During the time of escape, you hung your head down as Law transferred you from his back to his chest, face-to-face, in one swift motion, so you never caught a glimpse of the runner.

“‘Eyyyy, Tra-guy! Didn’t even notice you’re here!” The man gnawed on his meat while stuffing the leftovers into his big orange bag.

“Glad to see you too, Strawhat-ya,” he greeted back, eyes meeting with yours for a hasty second before trailing his gaze to your relaxed lips. It was intimate, seeing you close to him, bodies pressed together, arms around his neck and waist whilst his rested on the underside of your thighs. You and him always been together since the day he was held at gunpoint to recruit you, so it was normal for him to have some form of physical contact, whether it’d be hand holding to prevent you from straying away or the constant elbow hitting the back of his head while you whistled a verse or two. Giving you piggyback rides was common, so why did his heart start racing? This is what he always did, what was so different that could make him feel heated?

His chain of thoughts broke when you ripped yourself off of him to hug Luffy. “It’s been so long,” the shorter make cried, “I missed you Y/n! So nice seeing you out here! Especially with Tra-guy.” Seemingly impossible, your arms drew him tighter to you. “I missed you Luffy. God, I’m so happy to see you alive, I read all those articles. Really making big moves out there, kiddo.” Dramatic tears flowed out both his and your eyes, basking in the nostalgia and memories you shared.

To you, it was a touching moment; but to others, it was a cloud of confusion.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Usopp’s question dripping in disarray. But, their confusion was unparalleled to Law’s. That’s who you reminded him of—Luffy. He fell in love with someone who’s basically Luffy. He fell in love with Luffy’s sister. He fell in lo— no. No he’s not in love, what is he thinking?

“Huh, that’s a shocker,” Law’s lips were dry, mouth slightly agape as he watched the two monkeys hit it off.

Parting ways as the sun retired for business, Law took you to the hotel he had a reservation for. He was definitely gonna ask about Luffy. Grabbing the keys, it was a nonstop travel to the bedroom. Gotta hand it to Mingo, the bastard is a sick fck but he has some classy taste. The hotel was flooded with the natural shine of the moon, decorations silk and simple to compliment each other and the luxurious smell that was hard to miss.

Immediately upon entering the room, the first thing you checked was the fridge, searching for sweets whilst Law leaned idly against the doorframe as he watched.

“Yes, they have kinder eggs,” you shoved an egg in his field of view, “See?” He lowered your hand away from his face and ran his calloused fingers against his hair. It was a long day today, and he was tired as hell, but in this moment, all he wanted to do was to watch you.

“Want some?” Already munching on the Cadbury you found, you waved your face in front of his to break his daze.

“What?”

You simply pointed and broke off a piece to lay it against his outstretched palm.

“No wonder you seemed familiar to me,” he started, “You’re his sister.” Responding in a hum, he continued, “How did that happen? Sister by blood or by choice?”

“By blood dummy,” you popped a jawbreaker in your mouth, “We grew up together. If Ace and Sabo were being a jackass, I’d beat their ass flat. They were such bad influences! But seemingly in a good way..? They were like brothers to me too, ha, I was kinda like their mom if you really think ‘bout it,” Your mouth stopped sucking as the words you said became more and more sentimental. “I miss them. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy. But I’m happy. I guess it’s just... with everything... it’s nice seeing him alive and laughing. Enjoying life. And happy! Must’ve been hard on him all by himself. Besides, I can’t bear to lose another brother, not again.”

“I understand,” naturally that was his response, being that he could empathize since he did lose a sibling, a mother, and a father—twice— because of people. The world was fucked up. No other words were exchanged, effectively ending that convo.

You dug through the multiple bottles of wine, haphazardly throwing them away to search for more candy. A set of hands joined you on this search, crouching right beside you.

“Seems like you need help.” He offered a tiny, yet genuine, smile, to which you smiled back.

After endless digging, you found a can of whip cream and laughed as you sprayed a heaping load on the doctor’s nose before running around. He chased after you, grunting and hitting his long limbs against the small obstacles you placed, and lost you after he moved said objects to clear the path. You climbed onto the wall and pounced on his back, causing him to fall down completely, the cream crushed against his pointed nose and marbled floor.

“I win,” you sat on him as he struggled like a caught spider underneath your weight.

“Okay, I concede. Get off me.”

You flipped him over so his face was towards the ceiling, which was dark after you turned off the lights, and laid back on his chest. His chest had a subtle, yet rhythmic rise to it and made you fall asleep without trying too hard. You peeped a sigh of content before snoring away.

He admired how peaceful you looked when he wasn’t busy babysitting you. The moonlight doused your features in a soft light, turning even the harsh features into something delicate like a flower. The way your lips parted to let out obnoxious snores, the way your hair is tousled in a perfectly imperfect manner, the way your eyelashes contrast your skin tone, the way how there’s something about this moonlight that makes him wanna just lean down and plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

So he does.

You barely felt it graze against yours.

His hand caressed your hair with feathery light touches and his other brushed against your cheek.

Only the moon knew about the endearing look hidden in Law’s eyes that night; it was that same endearing look that showed he was in love.

[nametags]

But her emails...

I aim to be a woman of integrity. I’ve sat on the content I’m about to share for almost 6 years in part because it originally was a private conversation between me and a friend. A friend who happens to be a lead singer of a band, but a friend none the less. However the way people have been speaking about him and what’s been going on in the world lately, I couldn’t let this stay hidden anymore.

I’m tired of people claiming that because Patrick no longer uses social media (and hasn’t for damn near five years at this point) that somehow he doesn’t “care” or isn’t doing anything right now to help the Black Lives Matter movement. I’m also incredibly tired of people ignoring/belittling the fact that Pete Wentz is a biracial/black man in America. You really do not want the social media person in charge of Patrick’s account tweeting things out. It would be hollow and fake.

Below is both a transcript of the conversation I had with Patrick on 12/06/2014, a follow up message he sent to me 08/25/2015, and the accompanying screenshots. Unfortunately I do not have the tweet(s) that prompted me to contact him in the first place nor can I find screenshots of them to provide that context. An image of me and my younger brother Jacob when we met the band at Boys of Zummer will also be attached to demonstrate one of the people I was concerned about in my original email. 

The only redactions made were my personal email address and the name of a friend I referenced. Patrick deleted his email account at some point between late 2016 and early 2017. It’s only left in these screenshots as proof for those who knew the address before to see these were legitimate messages. I hope the content reveals not only where his heart lies not only then but where it is now. 

Allison White: So I caught the insanity way late, but it's a tricky spot to be in with what's going on. For most of my life, I didn't even identify with half of my race. I was raised with my mom's side of the family and it just didn't click for me. It really hasn't been until teen years and onward that I've opened my eyes to it all. And with that, I began to grow wary of authority in a way. Like I still believe that people go into law enforcement for the right reasons. The few times I have dealt with police officers personally I haven't been concerned, but I have noticed in the past few years that when I spot a police car on the road or an officer just out in public somewhere is if I look "white enough" or do I actually look like an adult who belongs in whatever space I am in. I know Trayvon Martin was murdered by a vigilante and not an actual officer of the law, but that was when I first started to fear for my little brothers. I knew both of them were the sort of young men that could get targeted and most likely justice would not be found for them. And then there comes this summer. With both the Mike Brown and Eric Garner cases coming back with no indictment, it makes it feel as if it's just open season for black people to be hunted by cops. Which is hurtful for the cops who are actually in it to protect and serve, and every citizen who now has to wonder if they are next. I hope that your cousin is doing alright. I hope that people aren't making his job harder right now. Just I know for me right now with all that's going on I am definitely on the side of the protesters.

Patrick Stump: Brief for now; I'm sorry in all that you didn't notice that I'm squarely on the side of the protestors too. That's a failure of my wording

PS: The problem is that I so poorly expressed myself, people thought I was balancing the empathy to be spread across the black community and cops. That's a mistake on my part. I'm angry.

I'm angry that Mike Brown's case didn't yield enough evidence to indict. But that case was a very complicated one...Brown had just (allegedly) committed a violent crime and information was murky. As sure as I was that Wilson straight up murdered the Brown, I understood the limitations of the american Justice system given how little evidence there was. That's the unfortunate reality of justice is that it needs to be just. It needs to be 100%. We can't go in with "I know in my heart." And so that case pissed me off, but I understood it. 

With Eric Garner however, this just feels so flagrant. By no accounts was he violent, wasn't he doing anything that could even be misconstrued as life-threatening enough to even imagine defending the usage of deadly force. He was cooperating and they choked him to death on camera. That's fucked up. I'm pissed. I tried to be polite and sit back and not say anything, but I'm pissed.

However, my reason for discussing the side of the police as well is that human beings are complicated. When we boil people down to simplistic stereotypes, when we create a narrative of "Us VS them," we lose sight of the humanity of it all. You can't reason with a "Them." You can only reason with a person and it works better when you remember they're people.

I don't believe in enemies. I'm not religious but I love the way Jesus preached "Love thy enemy." That's hugely influential to me. Hugely important. That's the empathy I mean.

The other night I was holding my son and I thought to myself about a black girl I used to date. And how, we could have had a kid together. Maybe a little boy. And how, that boy could (by no action of his own) be killed just for the color of his skin. Like, I've heard and read words like that before, but to actually connect with it (on as small a scale as that) was horrifying. Gutting. For a little moment I thought, all this joy and all this beauty and somewhere, someone's having a black baby boy, loving him and feeling all the same things I feel for my son. But I wondered if in between their tired diaper changes and their burpings, if they were saying a silent prayer "I hope you don't get killed by a cop." If they say it constantly because they know how possible it is. Or even if he lives to be a 100, what black man won't have an unjust run in with the law? Not to make it exclusively a male issue but seriously, how many black men are in prison right now in America? That's a disgusting thing. The young parent of a young black boy probably considers that and that's maybe the most depressing thing I've ever tried to understood. That's a horrifying thing. There really still is a racial divide in this country, and to not be black is to not say those little prayers. We live in a supposedly free country. What about the pursuit of happiness? Who's defending the right of that little black baby boy born somewhere in America to just be an adorable little baby without any pretense? And when that baby grows up, who's defending his right to walk down a residential sidewalk and not expect to get pulled over and frisked? Maybe worse? 

So I'm angry. Just plain angry. But I didn't want to offend anyone so I expressed my anger in the lightest way I could think of. 

I'm not sorry for having an opinion, I'm sorry I explained it so poorly that you didn't know what it was.

AW: All of this is hard, and there is so much anger. You shouldn't ever be sorry for your opinions, and I am pretty sure you yourself have told people only be sorry for how you express your opinions. I wasn't upset with you or what you said, I just felt compelled to share that for me there's a knee jerk reaction to the image/idea of police and why.  This whole situation has been tough and it's been inspiring watching people across this country let their anger show and demonstrate in the streets against it. It makes me wish I was brave enough to take part in it out in the streets and not just online. 

I hope this collective anger and protest leads to real change. That in 2014 we are able to do the things they were aiming for in 1964. I mean recently the full letter the FBI sent to MLK to urge him into suicide was released and it just highlights the divide between how much has and has not changed. There's a lot of value in what religion is supposed to teach. Love thy enemy, love thy neighbor. True love and care for those around you is a great thing and certainly something I'd hope people identified with. 

The past nearly seven years there has been this push for hope and change. Maybe the country is finally reaching a point to make it happen?

PS: I have a funny feeling this is civil rights part 2. I'm proud of the protests. I'm so grateful our generation is angry about something it should be angry about for a change.

AW: An argument can be made that our generation (or just post baby boomer generations in general) have been taught and fed nonsense to keep us compliant, but that veers into a territory that I am not completely sure or comfortable with. Overall I do think that this is heading a direction that the powers that be are not ready for in the slightest.

PS: Where did I go wrong? What do people think I said? They're so mad at me, and none of the people have said anything I didn't mean. I'm not getting angry right-wing stuff, people are just calling me a racist. What did I say that was racist? What do I think that's racist?

AW: There's a strong immediate reaction right now of if you sound slightly in favor of the officers that did wrong that you are racist. The swift reaction and need to dogpile on is kind of crazy. I think people took the initial comment to mean "not all cops!!!!" In the same vein as "not all men!!!" and that's where the rage is coming from. 

AW: Just to be clear, those who matter know you're not racist. You have shown both in your words and actions where your beliefs lie. I don't know how to calm the masses right now because at least for the time being its not going to get through :(

AW: You could try a blog entry on tumblr?

PS: Nah, I think I've done enough damage for one lifetime. I think I'll keep it to myself but I appreciate your talking it through with me. 

AW: No problem. I am always willing to be a sounding board for that stuff if you need it.

PS: I re-read my stuff; "I support our police," is the worst things said. I meant "I support the idea of police and the need for a police force we can trust on a national level," not "I support the police in NYC who are killing people and attacking protestors." That sucks.

AW: If you wanna try to clarify now you can. At least in your Google alert it only had one mention of he mess and it was a tumblr user supporting/defending you. 

PS: There's no fixing it. The Internet is unforgiving I think and the reality is, I said that. I didn't mean it in the way that it so obviously sounds, but I said that. So I deserve everything I get.

AW: It will most likely go easier if you let it ride out instead of trying to go out and fight it. That just gives the "he doth protest too much" air about it. Hopefully the energy behind letting you know you said something like that will dissipate sooner rather than later. And that it won't get big enough for someone to write a story about it. 

PS: Yeah. It'll sound like back-pedaling and glad-handing. Anyway, thanks for talking it through! 

AW: You're very welcome! Thank you for hearing out my side of it this morning.

PS:  I never would've ignored your side.

AW: Which is very much appreciated

AW: I say that because in the past two weeks I have lost a handful of friends because of all of what's going on and them being unable to understand how and why their words hurt me.

PS: Well that's awful and unfair

AW: It was but they were all from the "when I look at you I don't see black, I just see Ally" camp and then would go on to say things about stereotypes and "thugs"

PS: Yeah. Thug. "Oh that's so ghetto." Bullshit.

AW: When someone says "thug" it's always clear they wanna say the n word

PS: Or even if they're the kind of "Well meaning," person who knows enough not to say that word, they mean the same thing

PS: "Not like you. You're good"

PS: White America just needs to know what it doesn't know

PS: Or rather, understand that there are things they (we) will never understand. Not from a first person perspective.

AW: It always makes me want to scream. The erasure of identity so then the people known to them stay safe. It reminds me of something I witnessed the other day. My friend [REDACTED] from junior high is now an established lawyer. Needless to say he has been keeping up very much with the recent events. He made a post about it and one of his friends commented with "I wish you would go back to being my friend [REDACTED] and not my black friend [REDACTED]." Mind you there's no denying [REDACTED] is a black man. He can't pass in the slightest so the comment shocked and saddened me. Thankfully [REDACTED] handled it with poise and grace. 

PS: If you have to say you have a "black friend," then you probably don't. That's fucked. I guess I just genuinely didn't imagine how pervasive this stuff really is. Like, Pete and Joe and I have been talking a lot today. I was under the misapprehension that we grew up in a decently inclusive area. Just come to find out, nobody used those words around me. The whole time they were heckling kids like Joe and Pete. I thought racism was this thing that doesn't happen here. It's scary how much it's come out post Obama's election. Elected officials sending out mass e-mails of pictures of watermelons. I just didn't get it. Ignorance is bliss.

AW: It knows how to hide in plain sight, which is a lot of the problem. People are taught "don't be racist!!!!" Without being told exactly what racism is. People (myself included at times) aren't aware of words/phrases/ideas have nefarious ties until too late. 

PS: I think we get too caught up on words and not enough on what they imply. "Thug," means a prepackaged idea of a black male. It instantly limits his perceived intelligence, his perceived trustworthiness, his perceived value to society, and his perceived prospects in life. That's so fucked. We expect black men to go to prison. Not be doctors and lawyers. When a black man is a doctor or lawyer, we treat him like such a cool novelty. When a black woman asserts herself, she's so "Sassy." "You go girl." 

These little words and phrases feel harmless. They never were

AW: Those are the positives. Usually assertive black women are angry, mean. It's so fucked all around. 

AW: I really owe Pete for helping me be informed on Ferguson. He tweeted the hashtag the night the protests started in August and it helped me dive in. I am sure tumblr would have got me to it eventually, but seeing it from day one was a definite help. 

PS: You know part of my problem? I'm just not brave enough to say what I think. I'm just scared of offending people. Pete's not. He doesn't care. That's powerful

AW: It takes a lot to just put it out there. I am not sure if I had the amount of eyes on me that you do that I would be so "fuck you I will do/say what I want" as I am. Hell I become such a shadow of myself when at work with how quiet and polite I am. I mean I am still pierced and tatted with short hair so visually I say a lot, but then I watch my speech to make us for it. 

(Follow up on 8/25/2015)

Patrick Stump: That is amazing and I'm very flattered. By the way; Been thinking about our conversation from a year ago a lot. The takeaway is this: Saying "All lives matter," and "Not all cops," while literally true are contextually horrendous. Really awful. In retrospect I feel pretty awful about saying both. Specifically because "All lives matter," can carry a lot of implications. Who's lives? I meant by it that Latinos and Muslims are also unreasonably targeted/mistreated/murdered by cops. But is it as systematic or blatant as it is with darker skinned Americans? Not remotely. Furthermore, as a white man, I just need to remember how fucking easy I have it. It's easy for me to preach peace and unflinching patience when I've NEVER been a victim of the War On Drugs or the aftermath of straight up slavery. So there's a lot to think about in terms of what I, a white guy, have to say and do about the situation. But not a lot I have to say about the way it feels to be oppressed to the point of feeling like less than a citizen of this country. I shouldn't have spoken about it because I don't/can't know. Well-meaning white folks get to talk about policy changes and do everything we can to help, otherwise we should get the fuck out of the way. I'm sorry, really REALLY sorry to the world that I ever said either of those things. It's more than "Fuck the police." It's "Fuck this whole system." And as aware as I'd been, I hadn't realized how complacent in it I was. Anyway, disgusted I said what I said. Sorry to the whole world for being part of the problem

[emisfritish]

dude youre like the kind of person who says you cant be socialist if you own an iphone just because someone watches a show for the minimal rep it has doesnt mean they cant criticise it?????

Dude, 

You’re the type of person who sends the most random asks linking two issues that have nothing to do with one another, and apparently has issues with comprehensive reading, aren’t you ? But you know, I’ll bite. It’s been a few months since I received a low key agressive ask about one of my opinions. 

First, I imagine you’re referring to this post so that’s the one I’m going to base my answer on. If that’s not it, please feel free to send me yet another anonymous message telling me how wrong I am, I will be happy to address this one too :) 

First off, if you actually read (and understood) the post I wrote, I never once said you weren’t allowed to criticize the media you consume. Please criticize it, reflect on it, and make your own opinion about things. Critical thinking will always be important. 

You know what else is important ? Self-awareness.

You can criticize a show / a genre all you want, but if you spend the vast majority of your time watching shows where the two leads are men falling in love in different universes and circumstances, and then you’re also making long ass posts on tumblr about the lack of representation for women in thai media, then you’re at best in denial about how you’re also part of the issue, and at worst a hypocrite. 

If you spend the vast majority of your time watching BLs (shows where often times the cast is 80% male), and then you’re making posts on tumblr judging the entire GMM / thai industry for the lack of representation for healthy women in their shows, then you’re not only basing your opinion on your very limited vision of what the thai tv show industry truly is, you’re also part of the issue. 

If you spend the vast majority of your time watching GMMTV BLs and never give their other shows a try, and then you’re making posts to complain about how the GMMTV is producing more BLs and profiting off of them instead of producing different type of shows, then I’m sorry to tell you you’re not only part of the issue, you’re also one of the direct causes for their behaviour in the first place. 

That’s what my post was about. 

If that doesn’t apply to you (either because you watch different shows as well, or because you’re just happily watching BLs for the rep without wasting your time complaining about an issue you’re actually partly responsible for) ? Then good for you, and I’m not sure why you were so triggered by my post in the first place. I have no issue with people that consume mostly/only BLs shows, as I explicitly stated in the original post. 

If this does apply to you however, then I encourage you to either re-evaluate the way you consume media and try to understand how your behaviour could be part of the very issue you’re criticizing and acknowledge that, or I encourage you to open yourself to new horizons and different type of shows as well so you’ll find the women in thai media and their representation that you’re loudly claiming you’re actually seeking. 

You’re also in luck, a new network called @lakornladies has just opened up for this very purpose, so that could be a good place to start ! Go check them out and give them a follow, I think you’ll soon discover that representation for women is not as big of an issue in general thai media as you seem to think it is. 

You want more shows produced by the GMMTV that aren’t BLs ? Go and watch the ones they already produce every year to boost those numbers too. 

You want more representation for women in thai shows ? Then go and watch the dozens of shows produced every year that have fully fleshed out and amazing characters that are women, and stop complaining about the issue when the only shows you currently watch have a cast that is almost entirely male most times. 

That’s literally all my post was about, and I stand by what I said. 

If you’d like to discuss things further, don’t hesitate. My ask box is always open and I’m always up for debate about those issues, providing everyone involved in the conversation stays polite and intellectually honest. 

PS : You can be a socialist and own an Iphone. However if you own an Iphone and then you’re making long ass posts on tumblr about how bad capitalism is, and how Apple is a horrid company that exploits its workers and is growing on the back of their underpaid workers in developing countries, then yes, you’re also being a hypocrite on that issue and your double standards are flying high.

On that note I hope you have a good day anon, and I hope you’re taking care of yourself in this period of unrest.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pope Heyward X Reader 

A/N: This is my first Pope fic, so let me know what you think. I was super hesitant to write this because I feel like there is still so much that we don’t know about pope other that this pressure that his dad puts on him and his own pressure because of the scholarship. I am really hoping that we learn more about Pope in season 2. Anyways, as always my requests/asks/DMS are open. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think:) PS: The flashback is in Italics:) 

Description: The Reader and Pope have been together for a while now, but it seems like both of them are getting pulled apart from one another. Their lives and their futures seem to be getting in the way of their relationship. Based on the song Bad Timing by Rhys Lewis. 

You're heading out, as I'm coming home But I haven't seen you in forever

I walked in the chateau after the dreadfully long shift waitressing at the country club. Today was a terrible day at work, the older men just seemed to not give it a rest, I got two orders wrong, leading me to be yelled at, and having food spilled over me multiple times. I wanted to chill out on the HMS pogue with my boyfriend and our friends. I looked around at the scattered mess that the other pogues had left out in front of me. I shook my head, knowing that all the boys were to blame for the mess. I hear voices outside as I make my way out through the back porch. My plans for the remainder of the day were crushed when I saw JJ and Pope on Heyward’s delivery boat at the dock. John B was standing and talking to them. “Ahh, there she is, our favorite country club waitress!” JJ yelled to me as I made my way across the yard. I saw Pope giving JJ a sharp look, but JJ just laughed it off. 

“Hello boys” I chimed giving John B a hug. I saw Pope leaning over the side of the boat. I stood on my tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Are you heading out for deliveries?” I asked, looking at the stocked boat. 

“Yea. I know you just got home and are tired. Why don’t you get some rest, we’ll meet up later tonight? Just us?” Pope questioned, in his normal awkward tone. We’d been together for almost a year, but every time Pope asked me to hang out just us two, he got nervous. Honestly, I thought it was adorable. 

“Of course, baby. I miss you.” I put my hand on his cheek, making the moment a little more intimate. John B and JJ were bickering and focused on other things. “I feel like it’s been forever since I got you all to myself,” I said, fixing the collar of his loose Hawaiian shirt. 

“I know, it’s been hard with work, but we’ll make up for it tonight.” 

We steal a kiss, and you close the door I guess we're alone in this together

“Alright go, get your job done, I’ll be here when you get back.” I looked at John B for approval to stay around, he nodded his head. 

“I’ll see you later,” He said, reaching down for another kiss. This one was a little more intimate than the last. He had his hands on either side of my face, while mine rested on his shoulders. 

The boat started moving away from the dock, breaking us apart. “Y’all will have enough of that later. We got groceries to deliver.” JJ yelled speeding the boat away from the dock. 

John B walked up to me, as we both waved bye to the boys. He threw his arm around my shoulders. John B was like the older brother I never had. I was an only child, as it seemed most of the pogues were. John B and I grew up together, living across the street from each other most of our lives. “What’s going on between you two?” He asked as we began to walk toward the hammocks. ”Things seemed…” He paused and looked in my direction, “Tense” 

I settled into the hammock, kicking off the uncomfortable work shoes and lying back. “I had a shit day at work for one.” I smiled at John B. He knew that working at the country club was my least favorite of the jobs we picked up. “I wanted to hang out with Pope, Ya Know? I just feel like we never get to see each other. Our schedules never get to line up. We’re both trying to work so much to save up for college, and when we aren’t working it seems like we’re working on scholarship essays or studying. We both want to get off this island so bad that I think we aren’t taking the time to enjoy our time together. We’re together, but sometimes it just feels like we’re going through the motions.” 

John B just nodded. I wondered if Pope had also talked to him about the way he had been feeling. “You never know what the Pope is thinking. He doesn’t show his emotions, you’re gonna have to talk to him Y/N. You can’t keep this to yourself. Relationships require communication” He settled into the chair beside me, throwing his feet up in the chair in front of him lying back. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen it tearing you apart.” 

“Wow JB, that sounds like actual advice?” I laughed at the joke causing him to scoff and let our a sarcastic ‘haha”. 

He continued and I knew what he was about to ask. “Have you told him about NC State yet?” 

I took in a deep breath. “We haven’t had the time yet JB. We’re always with the pogues or its just fleeting moments where we kiss and pass each other by. We haven’t been alone for me to tell him.” I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I was hoping to tell him tonight.” 

John B just nodded letting silence fall over us. I looked up at the few clouds that were in the sky. I felt the breeze that came off the ocean and moved the clouds across the sky. 

Well I miss the nights, we'd lie awake Both throwing shadows at the ceiling

One of the clouds was shaped loosely like a wolf, reminding me of the night Pope and I got together. Apparently everyone but Pope and I didn’t see it coming. 

“Pope what is that supposed to be,” I asked looking at his hands, tangled together, trying to make a shadow on the tree using the firelight.

“It’s literally a jellyfish! See?” I moved his hands trying to get his hands to form in the shape. “See these are the Lappets” He wiggled his extended fingers out. “And this is the hood.” He raised the fist that was made by his other hand. 

“You mean the stingy things” I tapped his moving fingers, “And the body bubble,” I said tapping his fist. 

Pope rolled his eyes dropping his hands over his stomach. To put in laymen’s terms, then yes, Y/N, The stingy strings and the bubbly thing on top” He laughed. The sound was always music to my ears. Pope often took life very seriously. Getting him to relax, even if it was for a few moments was nice. 

“Look” I held my hand up next to his, pressing my middle and ring finger to my thumb and sticking up my pointer and middle finger. “A wolf” I giggle. Pope knocked my hand down grabbing it in his. It took me back, Pope was hardly one to make the first move when it came to physical affection. I turned on my side, the dynamic of the hammock making it so that we were pressed against each other. Our faces were close to one another, I could feel his breath across my face. Our eyes flickering between each other’s eyes and lips.  

“Can I kiss you?” Pope whispered. It was so soft that I wasn’t sure that I heard him correctly. I nodded my head subtly, but that was all Pope needed. 

I felt his lips on mine, neither of us moved at first. Until I began to move my lips against him. I found myself surprised at how good he was at kissing. I felt my heartbeat quicken as the kiss progressed. I found one of my hands rested on his chest and one on the nape of his neck. His hand moving along my sides. We finally pulled away from one another, trying to catch our breath. 

“Wow, a rare outburst of emotion Pope.” I joked. 

I smiled looking up at the sky still. I love Pope with all my heart, but I had this sinking feeling that we were getting pulled into two different directions of life.

But life keeps getting between us And it's all too heavy to keep up anymore

I woke up when I felt a pair of arms making their way around me. I opened my eyes seeing the yellow hue of the air made by the setting sun. I must have slept through the remainder of the afternoon. I turned to face the boy smiling at him. Pope returned the smile back placing a kiss to my forehead. “Someone told me that you were going on a sunset beach walk tonight?” He laughed. 

“Oh is that so?” I asked with a smile crossing my face. Pope held his hand out to help me get out of the hammock I had been sleeping in. I took his hand as he led us down the beach to our usual spot. Our spot was where we had walked to the night after we kissed at the Chateau. It was some larger rocks that Pope and I would climb up on and sit, sometimes for hours. 

“How was delivering groceries with JJ?” I asked, nudging his shoulder, knowing JJ probably made it much harder than it had to be. 

“Oh. It was practically a blast, the most fun I’ve had all summer” the sarcasm dripping off his words. 

“No run-ins with Kooks?” I asked. It had become routine, making sure that the boys were okay after coming back from Figure 8. 

“No. We got lucky today.” We had reached the rocks. Pope climbed up first, then reaching down to help me up to sit with him. The rock sat up higher on the beach, giving us the perfect view of the setting sun. The sky was starting to turn a range of orange and pink shades. A silence fell over Pope and I as we sat watching the sunset. 

“I got into  NC State.” Pope’s head turned sharply to look at me, his eyes wide. “And I’m gonna go.” 

“I’m happy for you.” He said, but I could tell there was something in his voice. “We’ll make it work.” 

“Pope, you're gonna be at Western, and I’ll be at NC State, that’s like across the state. We’re growing apart,” I said in a whisper. I wasn’t trying to be devil’s advocate, but there was something about it 

“What are you saying? We can’t keep up with each other?” Pope scoffed jumping off the rocks. I could sense the anger in his voice. I felt my breath get heavy. I didn’t want to have this discussion so soon, I didn’t want to ruin our summer. 

“Pope stop!” I followed after him. “What does that mean?” I felt the tears start to prick at my eyes as he turned to face me. I saw the tear streaks making their way down his face as well. 

We stuck by it, we kept trying But there's no fighting bad timing I wish we'd met each other five years later 'Cause I hate the way we're being torn apart

“Have you not noticed? We keep trying Y/N. Something always keeping us apart. Whether it was school or work, but now it’s our futures.” He moved closer to me. 

“Pope I want to make this work!” I breathed out looking into his brown eyes, still lined with heavy tears. “We have to keep trying!” 

He let out a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you. I hate how it feels like we’re being torn apart” He let his head drop to rest his forehead on mine. 

“If only we could skip ahead to five years from now, start our lives off the island.” I smiled at Pope. 

“I know that the timing is bad, but this summer is going to be the best summer of our lives,” Pope said putting his hand on my cheek. “I Promise.” 

“As much as I want that.” I took a step back from him, removing myself from his embrace. “We need to figure out what is going to happen between us. Do you think we can make long distance work? And for the next four years? I’ll be at NC State and you’ll be at Western, that’s across the state Pope.” I reiterated,  dropping my head as I felt a sob make its way through my body. I was trying to hold it back. I didn’t want to lose Pope. 

“They’ve got busses and we’ll have to come home for breaks? The state isn’t that big.” Pope paused before letting out a sigh and continuing, “I want to love you for the rest of my life Y/N,” Pope said. I looked up at him slowly. “We’ll make it work, we always do.” He moved forward to wrap his arms around me in a tight hug. I breathed in his scent. My senses filled with the smell of pine from a cologne that I bought him for his birthday. He was right, our lives were so integrated. I couldn’t see myself loving anyone else, ever. Pope was my weird, corpse obsessed boyfriend. I couldn’t think of anyone who could make me smile like him, that was as loyal as him, or as caring as him. 

“The timing to fall in love couldn’t be worse,” I said with a slight giggle. I stepped up on my tiptoes to press my lips to his. It was a soft and gentle kiss, but all the emotions from our fight were poured into it. I felt the pain that he had from our impending departure, to how we felt about being separated for so long. 

“There's no fighting bad timing,”  He said as I rested my head on his chest looking out at the horizon that the sun had just slipped past. 

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