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writingsfromhome · 2 days ago

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Unspoken Signals

A/N: reaaaallly tried to get this out for v-day. It’s been a while, I’m a bit rusty, but this is a quick fic w Harry and you as coworkers and a casual something else. Hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

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“Well this is different,” I comment.

Before me sits a dozen children and they’re all very quiet. It’s music to my ears after the last hour.

“I didn’t know kids could even do yoga.”

“You didn’t know kids could stretch?” I raise a brow.

“The meditating part,” Harry clarifies. “I didn’t know they could quiet their minds and their demon mouths.”

I laugh softly and turn back to the kids. A couple are starting to get restless, peeking one eye open or scratching their noses—picking them more like. But it’s nice for the few minutes.

Both Harry and I worked at an art museum that had recently lost some of its funding and had decided to open up revenue streams by introducing “kids fun weekends”. So despite having zero training in early education, staff at the museum found ourselves having to look after children and host workshops from time to time.

So far we’d been volun-told to help with a crafts day, a movie night, wellness day, and an upcoming museum sleepover.

And I was so not being paid enough to deal with hyperactive children.

“Why do kids even need a wellness workshop?” Harry continues to whisper back to me. “They’ve got stressful jobs or something? Bloody put me on one and let me go home.”

“Anyone can experience stress Har,” I roll my eyes. Harry was one of those people who didn’t care about being politically correct when he spoke. Which led to a lot of bickering between us that most of our coworkers had gotten used to.

“The stress of any of these kids does not bloody compare to the stress of an adult.”

“Don’t be such an ageist,” I reply.

“Ageist? What the fuck,” he swears. “Do you just put a word in front of -ist and create a new prejudice?”

I gasp and hold his shoulder, “prejudice? Where did you learn such a large word?”

“Now you’re just being a word-ist,” Harry says smugly.

I snort despite myself, “And you’ve always been a prick.”

“Piss off,” Harry whispers. “This is unfair.”

We stand in silence, forced to do our job of keeping watch over the kids. But as they grow more agitated and so does Harry, I realize I really didn’t want to be here either.

“Well have you seen the new fake-Monet collection?” I ask.

It wasn’t actually fake-Monet. It was a local artist we were hosting in our community gallery that showcased…local artists. The first piece we ever saw hung up looked like a Monet so we took to calling him that.

“No. Not after that first forgery.”

“Wanna ditch this and check it out?”

“Fuck yes.” Harry’s eyes finally draw some life to them.

We leave our two other coworkers to deal with freshly-meditated children and sneak away.

The art museum wasn’t a large building; the ground floor was taken up by the open lobby, offices, the gift shop, and some of the more permanent exhibits. The second floor had revolving galleries and the community gallery sat on the third floor.

“D’you think anyone’s actually going to buy the guy’s fakes?” Harry asks.

“Probably,” I jam the button for the lift. “I saw a couple more pieces and they were beautiful.”

“You find any piece of art beautiful.”

“Well they are! It’s easy to find beauty in a lot of things if you’re not a prick.”

The lift arrives and the doors open; the reflection inside show a tall curly-haired annoyed bloke. Walking in with him is a shorter girl, rolling her eyes.

“I’m not a prick.” He looks down at me. “I just have standards.”

Suddenly in the enclosed space of the lift we’re gravitating towards each other like we tended to do. I smile up at him sweetly and he tsks and pushes me away by my chin; a conversation taking place with just our eyes.

The thing with Harry and me—because it was just a thing we didn’t label, was simple: we liked being around each other (despite being able to get on each other’s nerves).

We kinda just orbited each other and we were comfortable with it; some days he would follow me home and we’d hang out, get dinner, sleep together, and other nights I’d show up at his and we’d fold right into one another.

It was fun, and it felt cool not to label it. It felt very adult, like Harry and I were mature enough to appreciate the other in every aspect without being possessive enough to need to label it. Like somehow we were proving just how secure we were by doing it like this.

“You just like being judgemental,” I say and as the doors open onto the third floor I turn to walk out. “Because you’re an idiot.”

Outside stand at older couple who’ve definitely heard the last bit. I apologize and pray they don’t complain to anyone about the staff.

“Very unprofessional,” Harry goads as he laughs. “Do you harass all the elderly at the museum.”

“Shut up!” I shove him against the wall and he stumbles down.

“Oi!” He calls out as I walk away. “Oi! Help me up!”

“Help yourself!” I finally turn. He’s sprawled on the ground like this was his bedroom—because I’d seen the inside of his bedroom I would know. But he stays for so long I hurry back, not wanting anyone to walk past and get us in trouble for laying in the middle of the hall.

“I knew you’d come,” he smiles sweetly, his large hand in the air ready for me to grip.

“C’mon—“

I see it coming too late and he’s already trapped me in. He pulls me forward and I stumble into him, nearly catching myself on the wall. Nearly. I tumble into him instead.

“Grow up!” I scramble off of him as quick as I could. Because the one unspoken rule in this thing between us was staying nothing but platonic coworkers at work.

And that was the other thing about us—this unlabelled situation we were in. That as casual as we appeared there was a lot of orchestrating going on behind the scenes in order to be this nonchalant.

For example, only touching outside of work, not asking about dates the other went out on the weekend before, like saying you’re funny and where’ve you been when it’s been a while so as not to say I really like you and I want to be around you more and when you’re not around I miss you more than an unlabelled half should. Like getting drunk when I spot him at a club with another girl so I can continue to convince myself I really didn’t care all that much.

It was just Harry. At most we were just friends.

“This is me grown up,” Harry catches up to me. He can sense I’m annoyed and maybe he’s crossed a line so he lingers slightly behind.

I ignore him as I push the glass door into the gallery. This was one of my favourite spaces because of the large windows and views of the garden below planted by friends of the museum.

But mostly I loved it because it was a revolving door of local artists and it reminded me that everyone had a story to tell. And every story was beautiful.

“Don’t cry this time,” Harry whispers to me as he walks down the gallery to the far end.

“It was one time,” I mumble. That I actually cried. Usually I just teared up.

I couldn’t help it though, there was so much meaning and time put into these pieces. So much love and grief and every emotions on the spectrum. And I felt it all.

I decide I’d stop calling the artist fake-Monet because with a few more paintings I began to recognize his own signature style. He paints about personal community and finding it in public spaces—pockets around London.

“Hey look at this one,” Harry says when I’m a few pieces away. I walk over.

It’s unmistakably Hampstead Heath, the park a half hour walk from here and 15 from Harry’s place. It’s where we spent a lazy summer day a month or so ago. We were both free on the Saturday, our calendars opening up. I met Harry at his and we’d trekked through the hazy city to feel the cool breeze of the sturdy trees and the splash of the water. Despite the stickiness, we’d tucked into each other and pretended the shade was enough to keep us cool—enough to be so close. We read our book, took a summer nap, ate our picnic, and chatted about the rest of our lives. Passerbys would see two friends, or maybe two something-mores.

It’s only when the sun slinked down towards the horizon did we pack up. We walked back to his flat, took a shower together. We had dinner with his friends. It had been such a beautiful day I had ached with it because I knew how temporary it was.

But how perfect it had been. It had felt bigger than us.

Harry pointing it out toes that line again; he remembered it too, as something to reference. As something to compare to the beautiful richness of the tapestry before us—lavenders and lilacs, pinks and blues, sage, and dusty hues.

“Beautiful,” I murmur. We’re standing shoulder to shoulder now, I can’t tell who’s leaning on who.

“It…actually is.” Harry says in a hushed voice back. “I’m sorry fake-Monet that I doubted you.”

I look up at him in surprise, Harry rarely changed his mind. “Actually?”

“Yeah.” He looks down at me. “I think I get it.”

The expression in his eyes as he says this, as they fill with meaning, I have to look away. But the painting doesn’t help. It’s too full of my own meaning. Our meaning.

But there was no our.

“Wow.” I straighten up and move closer. “Look at that blending. And the details those are actually people.”

“They’ve all got their own shadow too.” Harry moves closer towards me again. He points it out.

“I’m gonna go look for shadows in the others.” I chirp just so I can get away. So I can keep denying.

A few hours later, the day is giving to nightfall. I badge out with Harry and we walk down the steps towards the iron gates.

“See you tomorrow?” I ask.

“I’m not in tomorrow.” He reminds me.

“Oh yeah your parents are in town?”

“Yep,” he fidgets with his phone and we stand in silence for a beat.

“Well I should-“ I say just as he asks, “Would you want to-“

We pause, awkward laugh. We were never awkward.

“You first,” I urge, wanting to know what he was going to ask.

“No it’s nothing. I should go. Got to clean my flat before my parents see how I live.”

“Don’t forget to hide the rolling papers from your bedside,” I tease. “And the magazines under the bed.”

“Oi I haven’t got magazines under the bed,” he smiles. His dimples make a handsome appearance. “They’re loud and proud on the coffee table now.”

“Except you haven’t got a coffee table.”

“If you know so much about my flat how about you come home with me and help me clean it? You can stay over.”

Come home with me. Casual, so casual.

But I know how calculated it had to be. I’d been there. Somehow I knew this is what he’d been trying to ask in the first place.

“What time are your parents getting in?” I ask.

“They’re early birds. Probably after 8.”

“8? Holy hell.” I swear.

“They want to do breakfast and then take me to visit my grandparents.”

“Right. Yeah well, imagine I’m still not out by the time they show up. That’d be so awkward. And there’s no way in hell I’m getting up before 8.”

His cheeks take on a slight blush. “They’ve…it wouldn’t be the first time they came over to a girl in my bed YN. I’m not 16.”

“I know. But…still awkward.”

“So?”

“I…don’t want them to get the wrong idea. We’ll see each other the day after. You’re working then right?”

My heart squeezes a bit at his crushed look before it’s swapped for happy, for easygoing. “Yep. Can’t get rid of me that quick.”

We part ways, I go mine with a heavy heart.

***

“So,” I check in with Harry at lunch the day he’s back. It had been a hectic day yesterday with a new group of kids and a new workshop to facilitate. Plus someone was quitting after being yelled at and Harry had missed it all so I wanted to update him. “How was your day off.”

“Shite,” he says. We walk a few streets over to a Pret. “Mum and dad wouldn’t stop whinging about my future and about settling down like I’m a fucking balding man in my 50s losing all prospects. I’m only 25!”

“Yeah total bummer having a day off for that,” I comment even though I have a hard time getting my next breath in. I can’t imagine my own parents caring that much about my life to spend a whole day with me talking about it. And what if I had stayed the night and accidentally bumped into them—would they have approved?

Should I even care?

“Then my nan basically told them to piss off but they started filling her head with it and then she’s asking me about any girls I’ve taken on dates lately. Started giving me relationship advice!”

“What was that?” I tease. “Take her on a walk and buy her some flowers? Go star gazing? Movie for 2 quid?”

Harry glances at me and his seriousness throws me off balance a little.

“What?”

He opens his mouth, then shrugs and closes it. “Nothing.”

“Sorry did I offend you?” I try to think of why he might be reacting this way.

“No, she actually did say some pretty old-fashioned shite. But I can take it from her. It’s my parents that drive me nuts.”

“Well I wish you were at work. Want to hear what happened?”

So I change the subject and we talk about what he missed. He’s more subdued today and I don’t read into it. He wasn’t mine to read into, I have to remind myself.

We talk about the gallery sleepover in two weeks, whether we were actually going to come in our PJs. When we get back to work we’re on different floors and I try not to miss him again.

***

“I actually brought mine—the appropriate pair.” My coworker jokes. We’re in the staff kitchen making an afternoon tea. Tonight was the gallery sleepover and I was not looking forward to it. But because I was working it I had the day off tomorrow and at least that was something to look forward to.

“I just brought a ratty tee. I don’t think I’m sleeping anyway.” I say.

“I hate that we got picked for this,” she continues. “I actually don’t even like kids. Why do you think I have none?”

“Well tonight will just be birth-control.”

“Trust me I don’t need it.” She cackles and walks away. My phone buzzes with a text.

Harry: Might be late tonight. cover for me if anyone asks?

Y: ur not even working the day how are u gonna be late?

Harry: got a thing. Just cover pls?

Y: obv

I wonder what was going on with him.

We hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to hang out the last week and work had been too busy to properly catch up. Plus our manager had been putting us on conflicting projects so I really had been missing Harry.

Even though Harry and I were friends there was something about distance and fondness that was proving true lately. And I hated it. So I’d gone on a string of dates this week. Hence my busyness.

I’d gone out on a date a week ago and even though I ended up going back to his place all I wanted to do was text Harry. Ask him if he was up, what he was doing. I’d forced myself to shut my phone so I wouldn’t be tempted.

After we close the doors to the public that evening we begin setting up for the kids’ sleepover. It’s so hectic nobody notices Harry’s late but he slides right in helping me string the lights in our biggest gallery. We work on the projectors next, I yap to him for 10 minutes straight and he barely replies. He’d been quiet since he got here.

And for the next few hours Harry and I entertain and help children have fun, we put on a fancy puppet show loosely based on famous artists—art projections included.

We sneak away to the kitchen after we take our bow for a tea break.

“Wouldn’t happen to have a flask on ya?” Harry sighs as he strains his tea bag.

“God I wish,” I stare into the dark abyss of my earl gray. That performance had really taken it out of me. “Who d’you think’s most likely to have something stashed away?”

“Well,” Harry yawns like he hadn’t slept all week and points to an upper cabinet. “Behind the cleaning stuff.”

“What?!” I gasp. “Seriously?”

“Well last time I saw it was last Christmas. Probably got some alcoholics here. I dunno if the stash is still there.”

“Well this is naughty,” I find a couple travel-sized liquor bottles like the kind you get on planes. I take one so that somebody else can have the delight of the other.

Harry sticks his mug out and I empty half the bottle, doing the same to mine.

“Make sure it’s covered,” he advises when I throw it in the bin. I shake it around until I can’t see it.

“Much better,” I cheers my mug to his. He catches my eye and it feels like we’re co-conspirators again. I pass a smile that’s only half-returned. “So what’s the deal with you?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t look up from his drink.

“I’ve barely seen you all week. And you’re late tonight. And you look haggard as hell.”

He shrugs, “I’ve been helping one of my mates out with moving out of his girlfriend’s. They broke up. He’s a mess so…”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That’s kind of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Do I?” I widen my eyes.

“Piss off.”

He cracks with a smile—a full Harry smile and I feel my heart beaming just to soak it in.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I ask tentatively. I knew he had the day off too.

“Uhm,” cagey Harry returns. “Maybe. I’m not too sure right now.”

“Ah okay.”

We sip in silence that threatens to smother us. I get up as quickly as I can without wasting my precious drink.

“I’m gonna head back out.”

“Alright.”

I head back to the star-lit room where sleeping bags are laid out like mismatched brick throughout the floor. Some kids are cozied within, others sit on top. They’re all engrossed in the “bedtime story” being told by a local author.

It’s sweet, I think. This would become a core memory for a lot of these kids, drinking in the whole night through all their senses. I wish I had more memories like this. Maybe then I wouldn’t be so fragile all the time.

Adults staying overnight got their own gallery blankets and I drag one over to the far end, enough for any kid who needed assistance could find me but far away that I could be on my phone and not distract them.

Some time later another body joins me with his own blanket.

“Sorry,” Harry says as he sits.

“For what?” I play pretend. Just like these kids were doing tonight. What could you possibly be saying sorry for? What could I possibly feel entitled to you for? We’re just friends.

“For being weird earlier. I…well I have to tell you something and I’m being weird instead.”

My heart begins to thump in my chest.

“Tell me what?”

“So I’ve um…I’ve got a-“ Harry clears his throat. I glance up at him and he’s looking out towards the ceiling. “I have a girlfriend. I know we…we’re not…”

“Jeez Har,” even though ever atom inside of me is keeling over with something I can’t exactly examine yet, I play the joker. The friend. “If this is you telling me you’re getting serious with someone that’s all you have to say.”

“Really?” He turns to me and on the shiny hardwood floor so does half his body. I ignore how his knees feel pressing into mine. “You’re…okay?”

His voice is anything but casual.

“Yeah! It’s not like we’re a thing.”

Even still, I can’t say it. I die a little more.

“Yeah well I wasn’t expecting it. She’s the daughter of someone my dad knows? Pretty sure they orchestrated it but we went on a couple dates and then she asked…well she wanted to be exclusive I…”

“Well that’s good. For you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Thank god,” the air whooshes out of his lungs.

“I feel like I should be offended. You thought I was going to be mad or something?”

“No not mad…” he trails off. I look at his reaction and find him looking at me already. Even though it’s dark I can still see his eyes and they feel like they’re reading everything on my face. In a hushed tone he repeats himself, “not mad.”

I shrug, biting my lip hard to feel something other than the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Emotions I never thought would surface this strongly.

“I’m good. Actually I’m not good. I think that bottle we found was rubbish I’ve got to go toilet—“ I use his knee to pull myself up. “Save my spot.”

I walk away without sparing a glance back because my act is crumbling. I’m crumbling. And I don’t understand it.

If you asked me two weeks ago I would have gone on how fun it was to be with Harry but how the idea of being with him seriously would be weird. Would throw off our balance. But now I want to puke my guts in the toilet at the idea of having to let him go. Because he’s the one who moved on.

And as hard as I try tears still escape my lashline and make trails down my cheeks as I study myself in the brightly lit mirror. How could I be mad when we were just casual? How could I hate him if all he did was look for something serious. Someone serious.

Suddenly what had felt fun and mature feels childish and disposable.

I was disposable fun.

“Get it the fuck together,” I tell myself. “You’ve got nothing to cry over. You could get yourself a boyfriend too. He’s not your soulmate or something jeez.”

I blow my nose and give myself another pep talk before exiting the toilets back to where Harry waits for me.

“You alright?” He asks. A loaded question.

“Yeah. Regret doing this for the whole night though.”

“You could sleep. I’ll take first shift.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“Who gives a shit,” Harry tugs me so that I fall against his shoulder and it’s the worst thing in the world.

I don’t curl my arm through his like I might’ve before. Or cozy into his chest. I stay there like a stiff robot until sleep takes me. Even then it’s not long enough.

—1 month later—

I’m heading home after an uneventful day, ready to sink into bed and turn my brain off. These days my brain talked too much and I really wish there was an on/off switch for it.

“Um hiya?” A soft voice says as I exit the turnstile in the lobby. I turn towards the voice and it belongs to a sweet looking girl about my age with harsh features softened by a layered bob. On me it would look ridiculous but she looks like she was born to rock the style she was in.

“Hi,” the rule of thumb was even though you were clocked out if you exited from the lobby in work clothes and somebody stopped you, you had to help them. I’d forgotten to tuck my badge away today damnit.

“I’m waiting for someone? He hasn’t been answering his texts I was just wondering if-“

“You could ask reception?” I point to the desk behind her. “They can page who you need.”

“They weren’t really helpful,” she shrugs. “I’m assuming you work with him? Harry?”

It’s the last name I’m expecting from her lips. I nearly stumble back trying to take her in again with the new knowledge of who she might be.

“H-Harry?”

I’d heard her the first time. I’m just trying to grasp at a second to collect myself.

This must be his girlfriend. The one who wanted to be exclusive. And I hated that I’d liked her in our two minute interaction.

He hadn’t spoken much about her since he told me a month ago but since half of our relationship before her was being intimate, we barely talked and when we did it was mostly just work and the relationship felt really fragile and rough.

I could see what Harry saw in her—she was attractive. And not pushy; she let Joey at reception push her around which was hard to do. And she was meeting Harry here, at work. It must be getting serious.

All these thoughts race through my mind in a millisecond.

“Oh! Harry yeah,” I nod when she confirms. “Of course I know him. I think he was in a meeting might be why…I can go back in and check if you-“

“Oh no! Sorry I’m not trying to be a bother. You’re probably going home I just wanted to make sure he was still in?”

“Yeah! Yeah he’s in. I’ll tell Joey—reception, to page him if he’s out. He’s nicer than he seems.”

“That’d be perf,” she beams. I die a little more, unsure why I was helping her this much. Unsure why it bothered me this much.

Ever since Harry had ended the thing we didn’t have, my life had felt haunted. The ghosts of every emotion I killed in the moments we’d been together began to surface and they were torture. Biggest of all was regret and shame. Regret over what could have been if I’d just admitted how deeply I felt months ago. Shame because I wasn’t supposed to feel this way for Harry. Because he obviously didn’t feel the same way, he never would, and it would be embarrassing to ever admit it.

Our actual relationship had gone like this after that night—avoidance -> awkward small talk -> light bantering -> finally, being able to talk semi-normally again.

We stopped hanging out outside of work however, so every day I got to see him was a day I was excited to go into work. My friends told me I had to do something about it—confess and see what he says, or move on.

And I’d tried to move on. But every guy I tried to date didn’t hold a candle to the flame that warmed my heart; to the idiot I had the misfortune of falling for after we ended things.

Or maybe I was just the idiot.

And here I was self-sabotaging by helping his girlfriend. There was definitely something wrong with me.

“Elsie!”

Both our heads turn to the voice.

“There he is,” I say but she’s already squeezing my arm and walking towards him. Harry doesn’t realize I’m standing there and I watch him smile at her in a way that sends a spike to my heart. Then he notices me.

“Oh YN,” his eyelids flutter a few times too many. “Uh-“

“YN god sorry I didn’t even get your name,” Elsie turns back to me. “YN was helping me.”

“Yeah? Thanks,” Harry looks visibly relieved and flashes me a grin. I raise my brows and smile back.

Home. I had to get home.

“Well I figured Har already had a hard time finding a girlfriend, I didn’t want him to lose her so quickly. This isn’t even a very big place.”

Harry’s expression is unreadable but Elsie laughs.

“Very funny,” Harry responds.

“I know.” I gear myself up to say bye. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow, let you get to wherever you’re going. It was nice-“

“Well we’re just hanging out with some friends,” Elsie says.

“YN knows a few of them,” Harry says. I watch his eyes bug a little as he realizes he’s stepped onto a minefield and watch him back away smoothly. “Some of the younger crew go out for drinks sometimes.”

“Ah,” Elsie says as Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder from behind. He was laying it on thick but I don’t think Elsie noticed his hiccup. “Well why doesn’t she come!? YN you should join us! One more friend!”

“Oh I don’t think she wants to-“

“I was honestly just gonna go ho-“

I stop talking the same time Harry does.

“No you should!” Elsie says. “Don’t listen to Harry.”

I catch his eye and they’re saying please don’t.

Don’t tell me what to do, mine say.

Don’t be stubborn.

Challenge accepted.

“Ok! Maybe one drink.” I say as Harry huffs. It felt dangerous, having a non-verbal conversation in front of his girlfriend.

I was an idiot, I confirm. An idiot making bad decisions.

“Yay! Let’s go.” Elsie takes Harry’s hand and drags him to the front door. I nearly laugh at his face as he’s dragged past me—he was mad.

And it comes out a couple hours later. By then I’d had more than a single drink, have befriended most of the people I don’t know at the table and have caught up with those I do know. Harry had been mostly attached by the hip to Elsie and I tried not to stare daggers at it.

They’re an interesting couple, you can tell Harry is distracted most of the night and she tries to accommodate by being around and talking to him. He leaves a hand on her at all times but she doesn’t wrap herself around him the way I used to. Maybe she wasn’t touchy.

Maybe I was being obsessive.

So I distract myself with everyone, with drink, with a particularly cute boy who introduced himself as Elsie’s uni friend. Who happened to be brother’s with Harry’s old flatmate. Small worlds.

“YN,” Harry tugs my sleeve as Grant and I talk—if you can call heavy flirting just talking.

“What?!” I snap after the tugging gets aggressive.

“I need to talk,” He points to himself and then me, “to you.”

I could see he was well past tipsy. It wasn’t often Harry drank to this point so I follow him to find out what was going on.

I follow him to a patio table that had just been vacated, empty glasses littering the surface. An untouched shot sits in the middle. The tableau tells a story—art was everywhere.

“What?” I ask.

“What’re you doing?”

“What am I?” I laugh. “What are you doing? I think you’ve had a few drinks too many mate.”

“You’ve got drinks,” he replies.

“Yeah…” I look back at the half finished drink I left at the bar. “I did have more than I thought. I feel like I drink a lot more when there’s a lot of people around? Otherwise I’m just nursing my drink-“

“Why did you decide to come out tonight? When you’ve met my girlfriend.”

Girlfriend.

“When I’ve…what?! Your girlfriend invited me no thanks to you.”

“Yeah but you never come out anymore. And suddenly you want to come out when Elsie asks?”

“What d’you mean I never come out anymore?”

Harry sighs. “You stopped hanging out.”

“Yeah because you got a girlfriend? You stopped inviting me out!”

“No what? No! You’re always…it’s an open invitation I don’t need to specifically invite you out I-“

“So why did you invite me specifically before?” I call him out, feeling more sober than I was a few minutes ago. “You stopped inviting me. We stopped hanging out. And so I stopped inviting you when I went out cuz I thought you had a girl and I didn’t want to make it complicated I-“

My voice catches on an unfiltered emotion and I want to die. I feel heat creep up my cheeks as I try to swallow it down and hope Harry doesn’t notice. Fuck!

“Anyway your girlfriend invited me so I came! It’s not a big deal.”

“I didn’t…” Harry scratches his nose and looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean to stop. I…it was complicated and I-“

“It’s fine. Whatever Har.”

“It’s not,” his brows come together. “Obviously s’not. I’m sorry? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

I almost laugh at what he’s said and how it sounds: I didn’t mean to make you feel. Well, neither did I.

“Yeah whatever. I’m not mad about it.”

“Sorry.” He says instead.

“Thanks,” I clear my throat for good measure, not wanting to be too emotional. I want to tell him I missed him but I don’t think it would be appropriate.

“I thought-“ he breaks off with a laugh. “Nevermind.”

“What?” I push him lightly. “You know I hate when people don’t finish their thought. It’s going to drive me crazy—what?”

“No this one you won’t like. Nevermind.”

“Tell meee,” I poke his shoulder until he slaps my hand away.

“Stop that! I hate when you do that!”

“I know.” I say smugly. “So?”

“It’s stupid. I thought you came here to annoy me or something. And then you’re practically sitting in Grant’s lap…”

He’s right. I wouldn’t like it.

“Hold on,” I bring my hand down on the table. “You thought I was flirting with Grant to annoy you? Why would I-what!?”

“Like I said,” he doesn’t make eye contact. “It was stupid. Nevermind!”

“No it’s not nevermind. You don’t drive what decisions I make in my love life.” Lie. “Got that?”

“Jeez you can’t get angry after forcing me to say!”

“I can!”

“Can you quit bitching I don’t have time for this.”

“I’ll be as big of a bitch as I want to be.” I cross my arms.

“Unfortunately, I know.”

“That’s a completely stupid thought to have-“

“Surely not all your thoughts are winners. That’s why you don’t say all of them.” Harry says, then laughs. “Actually you do. And I always have the displeasure of hearing all of them.”

My jaw drops. “It’s like you’re purposely saying the stupidest shit right now. Like you want to be a prick.”

“C’mon you little shite,” Harry tugs my arm until they uncross. “I’m joking, remember jokes?”

I want to say something snippy, tell him off, but as my arms fall away his hand slides down until the tips of our fingers brush. It makes me feel touch-starved, like I’d been isolated in the woods for the last two months growing crazy for human touch.

Harry senses the shift and his smile dies down, his throat bobbing up and down.

How was it that Harry, out of every man I’ve ever met and continue to meet, has this effect on me? How can one touch quiet my mind so completely while pushing my heart into overdrive.

Why, I want to ask the universe. Why was it this man in front of me that made me feel so intensely?

“YN,” he says.

I should pull away. I should because his fingers creep further now pressing into my palm. I want them to slide higher until they’re tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. I wanted him closer.

“I missed you,” it comes stumbling out. And the shock of it pulls me out of whatever trance I just found myself in.

I pull my hand away and Harry straightens up, his gaze clearing too.

“Sorry.” My heart is in my throat now. “Sorry. I didn’t—that was inappropriate. I’m gonna go back now…”

“Wait,” he calls out as I head back to Grant knowing my heart wasn’t in it anymore. That I was going home.

“Hm?” I try to blink away the shame as I turn back towards him.

“D-do you…regret anything?”

I raise a brow and he flushes. I was making this torture for both of us but I wanted him to ask.

Stupidly, I wanted him to know.

“Between us. I know we never…we’re just friends. But did you ever regret…us?”

I shake my head. “No. No. Never. It was some of the best times.”

It’s like I’ve said the wrong thing. His face falls and I decide I had to go. Had to. I was afraid what else might be spilled out between us.

I don’t even remember what I tell Grant, just that I grab any of my belongings that I can spot, ask him to throw his number into my phone, and hightail it out. And I nearly make it to the tube when a warm hand grips my arm.

“Get off—oh!” I nearly whack Harry with my purse but he ducks anyway. “What the fuck Har!?”

“Sorry. Sorry sorry!” He lets me go and I miss his warmth. “I didn’t realize!”

“Yeah! You can’t just grab a woman at night like that!”

“Obviously! I wasn’t thinking! I was just trying to get to you-“

“Why?”

“Bloody hell you know why YN!”

I stare at him. His face doesn’t hide a single thought, a single emotion. It’s vulnerable, and terrifying.

“Don’t take the piss.” He grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “You know. You know.”

“I-don’t do this. Har, you have a girlfriend. I don’t want to be that girl ok?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s awful and-“

“No! Why didn’t you say anything when we were together? Any time we were together? When I told you I had a girlfriend? Why were you always so…cool?”

“Me? Cool?” I laugh. “There’s nothing cool about me Har.”

“Well you’re hard to fucking read then! I dunno! I was always leaving hints and signals that I actually liked you. And you always ignored them!”

“Hints? Signals?” I gape. “When the—what the hell do you call hints?!”

“I…I wanted you to meet my fucking parents for god’s sake. Did you really never-“

“If I’m hard to read so are you mate,” I lean against the closest thing—a mailbox. My legs are jelly. “Was that when you vaguely suggested I wake up in your bed while your parents were down?!”

“Fine well I bought you chocolates that one time, I’ve even got some of your tees in my room! I-I tried to plan romantic dates for us—Hampstead! I tried to tell you-“

“What?” I’m not asking him anything. I’m just questioning everything; everything I avoided and played off had meaning. Of course it did. Everything had meaning, but I’d just thrown our dictionary out the window so it would mean nothing. Because I was afraid.

“Really?!” Harry sighs. He crouches down and runs his hands through his hair. “Am I that bad? I thought I was making it so clear but you always brushed it off. I felt like an idiot for falling for you when it was just s’pose to be casual. I thought I was being a bloody simp.”

I inch down to where he crouches.

“You fell for me?” I whisper.

When he looks at me it’s with eyes that look like broken seaglass. With a mouth curved down so low that I want to kiss into a smile. Into a laugh.

He cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. I give in to the sigh and his lips lift ever so slightly.

“How could I not?”

“I thought I drove you crazy?” I grasp his hand. “I thought I was just a fun distraction I-“

“I never said the second part.” He interrupts.

“You sure?”

“You were reading the wrong hints.”

I laugh and so does he. It almost turns into tears.

He stands and extends a hand that I take, his warm palm covering mine.

“Now’s when you return the confession,” he says without letting go. “So?”

“What? I’m not hiding any confessions!”

“Liar,” he tugs me close. “Your heart’s racing.”

“That’s from getting up so quickly.”

“You’re full of shite.”

We’re smiling so hard I’m sure we look like crazy people on the street.

But he had a girlfriend. Oh god. A sweet girl I’d just met today.

His expression grows confused as mine must turn to worry. I untangle myself.

“Harry…”

“I know.” He finally clues in.

“We can’t-“

“I know.”

We stare at each other for a heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go. Or else…”

“Just like that?” He asks.

“How else is it supposed to be?” I demand. “We can’t do this Har. And please…if you like her…respect her at all—don’t break up with her just to be with me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach it.”

“Then I’m just lying to her.”

“I…” I shrug. “I dunno. I just don’t want to be the reason for her heartbreak okay?”

“You’re being a sensitive snowflake. Breaking up with her is the right thi-“

“You can’t call people snowflakes-

“I can if that’s what they’re being-“

“I’m going home.” I tell him. It’s the last thing I want to do.

He opens his mouth with whatever quick retort he always had. But he must think twice about it. His face draws into a frown.

“Sort yourself out.” I instruct him. “Just sort it out. And then one day soon we can see…y’know.”

I half turn away, but can’t bear to leave without touching him one last time. Who knows when the next time will be. I flit to him so I can press my lips against the warmth of his cheek, so intoxicating. Like an addict only sniffing the alcohol in their cup. And when I feel his body loosening, about to hold my own, I flit away and rush into the tube without a glance back.

I don’t register anything on the ride home. I’m too shocked to even cry about it.

I wash the day away, the scent of him and the look on his face when he realizes we each had been trying to hold out own glaring neon signs to each other.

It’s late when there’s a knock on my door. I figure it’s my roommate forgetting her keys, and since I’d been laying on my bed in my towel after my shower too numb to sort myself out I end up opening the door basically naked.

It’s Harry.

His eyes roam over my terryclothed figure with a smile.

“What—what are you doing here!?” I grab the edge of my towel to keep it in place.

“Were you expecting someone else?” He asks.

“No-stop!” I push my hand into his chest as he crosses through the doorway. “Why are you here?”

His eyebrows draw together, hurt. “I…I didn’t think I was that drunk—we did just admit our feelings to each other a few hours ago right?”

“Yes but!” I put my hand down because his heart is beating fast under my hand and I don’t want to feel it a second longer. “You were also supposed to sort yourself out and-“

“Can you just let me in?”

I stare at him.

He stares back.

“Fine!” I give up and move aside. He closes the door behind him. That’s when I notice his hands. “What’s that?”

“For you.” He holds a bouquet up. “I know they’re shitty. I couldn’t find much at this time of night-“

“No hold on, I don’t understand.”

“We’ve wasted enough time throwing out shitty hints that apparently neither of us could read. We should never be detectives.”

I stay still, waiting for an explanation. Any bloody explanation as to why he’s here and not with his girlfriend!

“I went back to Elise. She knew something was wrong right away. I tried to deny it. She asked if something was going on between us-“

“God seriously Har! I said not to-“

“Did you want me to go back and pretend to be in love with her when I just had a fucking bomb go off in my life!? I know you don’t want to be that girl YN but I don’t want to be that shitty guy who stays with someone because he feels bad! What does that make me?”

I can picture Elise’s face in my mind. Oh god.

“She wasn’t mad-“

“You wish.” I snort.

“No she wasn’t. Well she was at first because she thought I was with you and her at the same time. I explained. I apologized. She got it. She…turns out she was still hung up over her ex. That she really liked me but she was mostly doing it to get her parents off her back. Because they never like who she dates. Which wasn’t a great thing to hear but…I’m pretty sure I saw her catching a cab as I was leaving. Maybe she went back to her ex.”

I’m dumbfounded with his retelling of what happened after I’d left.

“She’s okay. Are we?” He asks when I don’t reply.

The bouquet looks rough, like it was maybe clutched too hard and the flowers are nearing the end of their life. I imagine Harry rifling through a flower stand to find something for me. Coming here because he couldn’t wait.

I was kidding myself. I couldn’t wait either.

“Okay.”

“Okay??” He asks but he’s closing the distance because he’s reading me. He already knows me.

“Fine.” I say as he loops his arms around my waist. I stretch my arms up around his shoulders, clasping them at his neck. Something throbs deep in my chest. I missed him.

“I missed you,” he says. Always reading my mind.

“I didn’t know I could.” I say to him. His eyes are filled with a raw emotion that mirrors whatever’s aching in my chest.

“You’re like something from the gallery,” he cups my face. “Beautiful and original, breathtaking and you pass by it every opportunity you get just to get another glimpse. It makes you realize what you’ve been missing your whole life.”

“Aw Har,” my voice wobbles. If this was Harry when he was direct and not giving shitty hints I don’t know how I was going to survive us.

“What?” He whispers.

“You’ve got a soft side. You’re not actually a prick.”

His dimples make an appearance as he smiles. “I told you. I’ve just got standards don’t I.”

I wanted all of him—god how did I fool myself this whole time. I wanted all of him. He was just so lovely. “I think you’re going to ruin me,” I whisper back. His grin disappears and he tugs me ever closer.

“You’ve already ruined me.” He says. “I can’t look at any piece of art without thinking of you. I can’t go a day without wondering about you.”

“Is that healthy?” I murmur. My heart drums.

“Who the fuck cares about healthy?” He laughs.

We gaze at each other, the blood rushes through my body at high speeds.

“Mutual ruin?” I ask.

He responds with a kiss so passionate that I forget how to breath. I’m sure my towel was being held up by our bodies at this point.

“Mutual ruin. Or you can just ruin me.” His lips brush against my ear, feather down my neck. “I’m madly in love with you YN. There’s nobody but you.”

I don’t know whether to laugh from giddiness or cry from how my heart overflows.

“Har, I think I get the hint.” I say instead. He laughs.

“Fucking finally.”

💟💟💟💟

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #writingsfromhome #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #fic #harry styles one shot

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teddypines · 3 days ago

Text

Aquarium Date

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summary: Sammy and Y/N going on a date to the aquarium after a hunt and some alone time in the car.

Sam Winchester x Gf!Reader, Fem!reader, Dean Winchester x Reader platonic.

MDNI! 18+ if you do read it i'm not responsible.

Warnings: P in V, unprotected, handjob, fingering, teasing, lots of kisses, pet names, dirty talk and a little degrading if you look just right. Car smut.

Note: This is a long one, like long, longest fic i have writen. I just really like Sammy and needed a little more then what tumblr had to offer. I'm a little sorry for traumisising the whale shark and Baby.

Words: 4233

Art/Pictures from pinterest, put together by me.

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The hunt ended earlier than planned, which was overall a good thing, but they still had the motel room for 2 more days so Dean said they all deserved a little break before finding a new hunt. The town they stayed in had an aquarium nearby. Sam thought it would be fun to take Y/N to the aquarium, have a little fun day out, just the two of them. Have a proper date since at least three weeks. Sam even begged Dean if he could take the car just this once. Only for Dean to be difficult about even saying yes.

“No, Sam, you can go by bus or something! You are not taking Baby to an aquarium on a date. I don’t want any hanky panky in my car or for her to be stolen or something.” Dean answered as he looked at Sam and Y/N giving him puppy eyes. “We promise not to do anything dirty in your car.” Y/N Said before Sam continued the begging. “Or for Baby to get stolen. It’s just easier to go by car than by public transport. Please Dean! Just this once! We promise to not do any ‘Hanky panky’ in the car, on the car or to the car. We won’t touch your Baby.”

Dean groaned as he looked at Sam and Y/N, why did his baby brother and his girlfriend have to go on a stupid aquarium date? and why is he thinking about letting them take his precious Impala? Dean sighed and slowly nodded his head. “Fine, but no sex! And at least bring me to the cinema.”

And so Sam and Y/N went to the aquarium, dropping Dean off at the nearby cinema, in the Impala and the promise to Dean that they would do anything dirty in his car.

Y/N paid for the tickets as Sam tried to figure out how they could see everything as efficiently as possible. Once they had the tickets Sam took Y/N's hand and led the way towards the first fish tank. The two of them had a wonderful time looking at all the sea and water creatures. Y/N marveled over the clownfish and other tropical fish the aquarium had and Sam was just happy to see Y/N this happy. The way she smiled and how the blue lighting hit her gentle features made Sam feel something deep inside. She was his and he was hers. Even with all the danger and chaos they faced almost every day. Sam smiled and hugged Y/N from behind as they watched the little fishies.

Y/N liked the hug, but she could feel Sam’s excitement against her lower back. she leaned her head back against Sam’s shoulder and looked up at him. “Do I make you that happy?” She whispered to him. Sam hummed in answer and pressed his lips against her neck. “Owh so happy, darling.”

“Does that mean I can pick out a plushie in the gift shop later?” Y/N asked, a cheeky smile on her face as Sam let out a small groan, expecting something else when Y/N started to tease him. “Fine, but just one!” Y/N beamed and quickly kissed Sam’s cheek before going to the next tank. One filled a octopus and deep sea fish and plants.

<------------------------------------------>

The two of them walked underneath the under the sea tunnel, hand in hand happily looking at the sharks and the turtles who swam about and beside them. Sam smiled at Y/N and slowly squeezed her hand three times, telling her he loved her. Y/N grinned and squeezed Sam's hand back.

“Owh look, a nurse shark!” Y/N pointed out and pulled Sam towards the glass. “Did you know that nurse sharks don't have to constantly swim to breathe?” She looked at the nurse shark who swam over the bottom of the tank, nestling into the sand for a nap. A few other fishes swimming around the shark. “No i did not know that, but now I do thanks to my very own tour guide” Sam teasted as he looked at the nurse shark. “They kinda look like catfish, but better” He commented, studying the whisker like things around the shark's mouth.

“Yeah, definitely better than catfish, but lemon shark over nurse shark.” Y/N turned her head to look at Sam and smiled. “But you are better than any shark.” She said before giving Sam a gentle kiss. Sam wrapped an arm around Y/N as they kissed. Pulling away after a little while. “But whale sharks are your favourite.” Sam added to which Y/N nodded excited, happy he remembered her favourite shark. She leaned up again and gave Sam another big kiss. Sam had the biggest smile on his face after Y/N pulled away from this kiss. She was his normal in a world full of chaos, she was his everything.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Y/N whispers at Sam after they walk a little further to look at some of the turtles. “Look at you like what? Like I am in love? Like I have the most beautiful girl walking beside me, loving me?” Sam smirked as the words he just said registered in Y/N’s brain. She went bright red and covered her cheeks. “Stop~” Sam leaned down and kissed Y/N’s cheek. “Never.”

<------------------------------------->

Around lunch Sam and Y/N got some sandwiches at one of the outside food trucks and sat down near the ray bay where multiple families were having lunch too. Some of the children marveling over the ray's they got to touch in the little touch tanks. Even a few of the parents and teens were touching the ray’s. One girl even screamed when she felt the slimy scales of the fish. It made her parents sigh and take her away in embarrassment.

“I kinda get her, fish scales do feel weird for the first time.” Y/N commented as they watched the mother calm down the little girl. “Yes, but she did scream rather loudly, not that I fault her. Dean can scream louder at nothing.” Sam answered before dipping his fry into the ketchup. “Kinda feel bad for the parents.” Y/N nodded agreeing with Sam, but luckily no one gave the family mean looks or was upset that the peace was disturbed for a moment.

“After this I want to touch the ray’s too.” Y/N announced to Sammy. “Do I get a say in that?” Sam asked as a joke. a cheeky smile on his face. “No, I am going to touch all the fishies I can touch. Fish deserve love and affection too.”

<----------------------------------------->

After seeing every show and every fish, shark, turtle, sea star, ray, moon fish and bits of coral did Y/N and Sam step inside the gift shop. Sam looked at a few of the funny snow globes that were on display as Y/N got distracted by one of the biggest plushies she has ever seen. “Sammy? Can I have that one?” She asked while pointing at a big whale shark plushie on top of the highest shelf. Sam followed Y/N’s finger and his mouth slowly fell open. “Ehm…”

“Please, Sammy! Please! it is like the most amazing plushie ever and it’s my favorite shark!” Y/N argued as she looked up at the whale shark. Sam sighed and nodded his head “Alright love, you can have the whale shark plushie.” He answered and carefully wrapped his hands around Y/N’s waist. Sam lifted Y/N up so she could grab the plushie. Y/N quickly grabbed the shark, already loving the soft fabric and the plush feeling. She giggled when Sam put her back down on her feet, looking like a little kid with how big the whale shark plushie was.

“Dork” Sammy said to Y/N as he placed a hand on her Lower back. “Yes, but I am your dork.” Y/N answered as she carried the plushie to the register. The two of them waited in line and Sam just had to tease her a bit. He leaned forward and put his head on Y/N's shoulder. His arms wrapped around her waist and the whale shark. “Tired?” Y/N asked as she shifted a bit to let Sam lean on her more comfortably. Sam nodded his head, seeing all the creatures and walking around for a few hours tired him out, but he still had a few plans he wanted to do that day. “Yeah, but I'll be fine after a snack and a cup of coffee.” “We’ll get coffee and some snacks at the little restaurant after this.” Y/N as she stepped forward in the line.

Sam slowly pulled back from Y/N and looked around nervously. “Actually I had a different idea…” Y/n looked back at Sam. “Different idea? Like what, drive to the nearest Macdonalds?”

“Well not exactly. I was more thinking of going to a little to-go cafe I saw around town yesterday and then finding a nice spot to park, just you and me.” Sam Explained his idea, rubbing the back of his neck, hoping Y/N would like the idea. She nodded her head and thought about the idea. “I like that, let’s do that.” Y/N kissed Sam’s cheek. “But first you have to pay for my whale shark.”

<-------------------Smut starts here--------------------->

“You really needed to get something with jam on it, didn’t you?” Sam asked more in a teasing way as he watched Y/N eat an Iced bun. “Like you want Dean to be mad at us.”

“But iced bun, Sammy.” Y/N whined as she struggled to not spill any of the jam in the car. Her lap filled with napkins. Sam rolled his eyes and took a bite of his cinnamon roll.

The two of them found a little quiet spot by a lake, it’s safe Sam checked. They got chocolate milks and some pastries and the big whale shark was happily laying in the back seat of the car. There was a silence between them but it was a comfortable silence. Y/N finished her iced bun and whipped her hands before grabbing the to-go cup with her hot chocolate. she happily sipped it as Sam munched on his cinnamon roll. Without a warning or even the idea that this could happen Sam suddenly felt Y/N’s free hand on his thigh. It didn’t bother him at all, sometimes Y/N just lay her hand on his thigh.

Sam knew Y/N loved physical touch, this was her way of showing she loved him without using any words. Sometimes they both needed it to ground themselves in this crazy supernatural world they lived in. It was innocent and normal, at least that is what Sam thought right now. Not knowing what Y/N was planning.

It stayed like this for a little while until Y/N’s slowly went a bit higher on Sam’s thigh. Sam’s breathing hitched a little and he turned his head to face her. “W-what are you doing?” He asked only to get no answer in return and a light squeeze on his thigh. “Y/N we promised Dean not to…”

“Dean doesn’t have to know. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Y/N answered as her hand slowly went more towards the growing bulge in Sam’s pants. “Besides Dean has the motel room and getting one for ourselves is expensive. Highly unnecessary even. We have the car and I'm on a safe day.” Her hand went even higher up Sam’s thigh.

Sam groaned as Y/N’s hand was placed over his jean covered cock. “But we have to make sure not to make a mess in the car.” Sam said only to turn bright red by Y/N’s answer. “Then you better make a mess inside me.”

“Back seat..” Sam growled before taking Y/N’s hot chocolate and placed it in the cupholder next to his. “Now!”

Everything was a bit chaotic as the two of them struggled to get into the back seat of the car. Then the elephant in the room, well the whale shark in the back seat, needed to be dealt with. “Soo…” Sam hinted at the plushie. “Leave it.” Y/N answered as she pushed Sam back onto the plushie. Her hands slowly ran over his stomach lower and lower towards his cock. Sam’s hands gently squeezing her hips, liking that he could hold onto her like this, her hip dips making it easier to hold her. Owh, how Sam loved those hip dips and thighs to hold onto. Y/N slowly unbuckled Sam’s belt and unzipped his pants. “Wait, this is okay right?” Y/N asked as she hesitated a bit. Sam quickly nodded his head. “Very okay, sweetheart.”

Y/N carefully pulled Sam’s jeans and boxers down, slowly freeing his semi hard cock which bounced up. She carefully wrapped her hand around it and started to stroke in long and slow tugs. Sam’s head fell back against the whale shark plushie as he groaned. The way Y/N’s hand felt around him was amazing. His cock hardened in her hand as she continued to stroke him. collecting the little bit of pre-cum that was already leaking from the tip. Using it to make her strokes a bit more fluent. “That’s it sweetheart, just like that.” Sam tried to praise and encourage her, wanting her to know she was making him feel good. As this went on Y/N slowly started to grind against Sam’s thigh. Feeling herself getting wet from the praise and the friction between her legs.

“Come on sweetheart, arms up for me” Sam ordered as he let her hips go to take off Y/N’s shirt. His eyes dark with desire for her. Y/N listened and let Sam’s cock go for a moment. She held her hands above her head as best as possible in the car. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Sam purred as he leaned up a little to take Y/N’s shirt and bra off. “There you go, beautiful. all pretty and perky.” Sam said before kissing Y/N’s neck and shoulder, slowly going down over the curve of her breasts. He latched onto one of her nipples and gently started to suck, making Y/N whimper just the way he liked.

Y/N struggled for a bit as she tried to jerk Sam off again, with the way he sucked her nipples made her mind go foggy. Of course Sam had this effect on her even when she wanted to please him first. “You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Sam smirked around her nipple. Y/N nodded with a small whimper in answer. She thought this was answer enough only to gasp when Sam made an attempt at slapping her ass. “Words, sweetheart” Y/N only whined, now receiving a slap on her thigh. “Come on, love, want to hear that pretty voice of yours.”

“Feels… feels good S-Sammy.” Y/N answered finally using her words. Sam smirked again and quickly took off his shirt before helping Y/N with her jeans and panties. It was a bit of a struggle to take their clothes off in the back seat of the car, but they managed. They were lucky that the backseat had enough space for hanky panky.

“Safe day, right?” Sam asked before running his hands over Y/N’s naked body. Her hand slowly wrapped around his cock, finally getting to touch him again. Gently jerking him off, her thumb running over the slit of his tip. “Safe day” Y/N answered. “So no mess.” “Yeah, no mess, at least no mess for Dean to see” Sam teasted Y/N, before moaning once Y/N squeezed his cock out of nowhere. “Don’t kill the mood” She pouted. Sam only laughed and grabbed Y/N's wrist. pulling her hand away from his cock. “Want to feel you too, pretty girl.”

Sam reached between Y/N’s legs and groaned. “Jeez, sweetheart, so wet for me.” He started to circle her clit at the same pace she was jerking his cock earlier. Making sure to find the spots that made Y/N roll her eyes back and moan like the little slut that she was for him. his other hand was still holding her wrist, enjoying the way she looked right now.

"Sweetheart?" Sam asked, only for Y/N to nod her head as she relished in the feeling of Sam’s fingers on her clit. “Need to feel you.” Sam groaned. Y/N looked Sam in the eyes and nodded her head. “Want to feel you too, Sammy. Please” Hearing these words Sam let go of Y/N’s wrists and took his other hand away from her pussy. Both hands went to her hips and he carefully lifted her up a bit. Minding that she didn’t bump her head on the car roof. He lowered her onto his cock. the tip poking at her clit.

“Want you Sammy. I want to feel you inside.” Y/N bit her bottom lip, not waiting for a reaction or comment from Sam. She just lifted herself up, reached down between them to grab Sam’s cock and positioned it near her entrance. Y/N giggled a bit once she saw the way Sam looked at her. Sam let himself lean back against the whale shark, his hands gently cerasing Y/N’s hips and thighs. Ever so slowly Y/N let herself sink down onto the tip of Sam’s cock. Moaning at the sinful stretch Sam’s tip already gave her.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweetheart, take your time. No need to ruSH! Fuck! Y/N!” Sam tried to be gentle, but then Y/N suddenly sat down all the way onto his cock. “Fuck Y/N!” Y/N gave Sam an innocent look. “Did I catch you off guard?” She asked. “YES! a good kinda off guard, but still!” Sam answerd as Y/N giggled at his reaction. She loved it when he got like this.

Y/N slowly started to bounce up and down on Sam’s cock, starting off slow and long. Before going faster as time goes on. Sam let out the prettiest little whimpers as he held onto her. The way the fabric of the whale shark plushie lay against his back and the warm feeling of Y/N’s pussy being around his cock made this whole ordeal feel so good to him. Y/N on the other hand wasn’t thinking at all. Sam’s dick reached places inside her no one else could reach. She saw stars and her mind started to fog up again. She moaned once Sam reached up to hold her left breast.

“Fuck baby, just like that” Sam praised “That’s a good girl. Such beautiful noises.” Sam groaned loudly as he felt Y/N squeeze her cunt around his dick at the praise he gave her. “Agh… Shit, do that again. Come on, be a good girl and squeeze my cock with that pretty pussy.” Y/N clenched her thighs around Sam’s side and her cunt squeezed his cock again. “Fuck, just like that pretty girl.” Y/N placed her hands onto Sam’s chest, needing the support to keep herself upright. Even with Sam guiding her up and down with his free hand. Y/N still felt like she was losing all the feeling she had in her legs. All because Sam was so thick inside her.

Sam started to notice that Y/N was struggling and tapped her thigh. “Sweetie. want to change positions?” He asked in a gentle but loving tone. Wanting her to know her not riding him wouldn’t be the end of things. Y/N stopped going up and down and sat silently on Sam’s cock. She didn’t answer Sam, just staying silent for a moment. “Sweetheart, it’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself.” Sam reassured before Y/N slowly nodded her head. “Please.” Sam smiled gently and carefully lifted Y/N off his cock. To the best of his ability he turned the two of them around on the back seat. Gently laying Y/N down onto the whale shark. Seeing how she nuzzled her head into the soft fabric in a way to ground herself and pressed her ass up a little so he could easily slip inside again.

Sam helped her by lifting her hips up a little more and letting her right leg hang over the edge of the seats. Sam grabbed his cock and alined the two of them again. “Ready, baby?” He asked, just to make sure Y/N was still with him and okay with everything. “Yes.” She answered with a doopy smile. Sam slowly slipped inside Y/N’s pussy, making her moan. He pressed his chest onto her back and placed his head over her shoulder. “such a sweet little cunt and all for me.” Sam groaned into Y/N’s ear. He started to roll his hips against her, slowly thrusting In and out of Y/N's pussy.

Y/N could only moan as Sam slowly fucked into her. “Sammy~” She whined to which Sam answered by gently kissing her neck, leaving a few hickeys to mark her as his. “That’s it love, moan for me, let out all the pretty noises for me.” Sam growled as he tried to pick up his pace. He put his right leg on the floor of the car and used it to steady himself and to pound into Y/N’s cunt. Y/N felt her legs shake a bit as Sam pounded into her, it wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t gentle. “OWh… Fuck~ Sammy…” Y/N moaned. “Sammy~ So good.” Sam nipped at her neck and put his hand on the side window. “That’s a good girl. Such beautiful noises.” He praised Y/N when he felt her squeeze her cunt around his cock. “Oh, are you close, baby? Are you ready to cum for me, to feel me fill you up?”

Sam slowly slipped his left hand underneath Y/N and reached back between her legs. Finding her clit was easy with how much it had swelled up. He started to circle her clit at the same pace he was fucking into her, working Y/N’s body to her limit. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me. relax and let go for me baby.” Sam cooed, his thrusts slowly getting more rigid. He reached that spot inside her that made Y/N see stars once again. “Sammy! Fuck, agh… Sammy please. Ghn, please.” Y/N moaned and whimpered as Sam continued to fuck her and rub her clit, chaising her high as well as his. “Fuck! Y/N/N!” Sam groaned and before they knew it Y/N came while screaming Sam’s name.

Sam fucked Y/N through her orgasim before coming inside her. Y/N whimpered as she rode out her high, feeling how Sam was filling her up with hot cum. Sam let himself fall onto Y/N’s back, cock still twitching inside Y/N’s dripping pussy. Both of them smiling as they lay there on the whale shark plushie on the back seat of Dean’s car. The car they promised to not have sex in.

Sam smiled and carefully pulled his cock out of Y/N’s cunt after a few quiet moments. Pulling out made her whimper even if Sam was so gentle. He carefully pulled away the hand that was on her clit away, only to appear on her cunt again to collect the mix of his and her cum. Just admiring the way it looked. Sam then slowly helped Y/N shift around again and helped her lay down on his chest so she could take a breather, not wanting to tire her out or hurt her by going too fast. “Breath with me, sweetheart, nice and slow, in and out. That’s it, good girl.” Y/N lay on Sam’s chest for a little while, calming down and breathing just like Sam told her. The whale shark behind them is now traumatized for life.

<-----------------------Smut ends here---------------------->

After getting cleaned up the best way they could and making sure nothing got onto the car Sam helped Y/N get dressed and back into the passenger seat. They went and got new hot chocolates again on the way back to the motel. Sam held Y/N’s hand as he drove, making sure she was okay and taken care of. Y/N could only smile as she sipped on her now cold hot chocolate and watched the road, her mind still foggy, but a good happy foggy.

The car turned off once Sam parked the car in front of the motel room. “We’re back sweetheart.” Sam whispered to Y/N, who just tiredly nodded. “Want a nap…” She whispered. “I know, love. I’ll get you to bed in just a moment.” Sam answered and then quickly left his seat behind the wheel. He firstly got the whale shark from the back. He opened the passenger seat door next and handed Y/N the plushie. “Hold that for me, love.” Y/N nodded and held onto her plushie. Sam carefully scooped Y/N up and carried her bridal style back to the motel room. Kicking the car door close behind them.

“Hey Dean, we’re back.” Sam called out as he carried a very sleepy Y/N inside. He gently lay Y/N onto their bed and tucked her in. Not caring about the stay bra that lay over one of the chairs or the big mess in the room. He kissed Y/N’s forehead and then looked at Dean. His brother looked disheveled and his hair even more of a mess than usual. Dean gave Sam a weird look about the whale shark plushie. “She really wanted to have it, okay?” Sam explained to which Dean nodded. “And you couldn’t say no.”

“sooo… how was the movie?” Sam asked a little unsure about if he wanted to know what just happened in the motel room. “It was fine.” Dean answered shortly. They both nodded slowly, both staying quiet for a moment. “Beer?” Dean asked. "Definitely." Sam answered.

#fanfic #oneshot #fluff #car smut #smut #comfort #aquarium #date #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #sammy winchester #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #Sam winchester x gf!reader #sam x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #fem!reader

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luckypunklemonade · 2 days ago

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2/14

“Second guess these words of mine, I always thought that I’d be fine with you. But ever since we crossed that line…”

[Implied smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; mutual first time; 2k words] You made a decision with your best friend, Stiles Stilinski, that it was logical to be each other's first time. After all, you trusted each other, and, well, it made you both safer.

an: I love this concept, but I wanted to get this out today, so It's sort of rushed, sorry :( Happy Valentine's Day :)

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

It started just so we could both get out of the victim pool. Another supernatural event killing off virgins. Shocker. So, naturally, I proposed the idea to Stiles. One of my closest friends who also happened to be a virgin. I trusted him, had known him for years, and knew he’d also hopefully see the logic in it. It’s not like he could make fun of me. I’ve seen him say and do much more embarrassing things. I won most debates because of that. It was starting to become a problem now that it had happened, though.

“Do you remember what this hieroglyphic is?”

Studying a new round of killings in Beacon Hills, the category was Egyptian, and the suspect was a Sphinx demon. Having had a bit of a fixation as a child, I could be of help.

“What does it look like?”

“A bird–a stork.”

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, my hand pulling his shoulder back toward me so I could get a better look. I got the answer out, “Amenophus,” but his cologne cut me off after that. The scent only reminded me of him in my bed, softly and awkwardly humming to try and make it less awkward as he tried to figure out how to take my bra off. He was sort of hugging me, his head next to mine as he peered over my shoulder at his own hands, fiddling with the clasp. He laughed, “I can’t figure this shit out. I don’t know how this is allowed. It’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

I laughed into his shoulder, glad he could tell I was nervous and that he wasn’t making it a big deal. “It’s nothing like that. Here, I can–”

My heart seemed to drop with the weight of anxiety as I felt him finally succeed. He noticed, holding the bra together between my shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just nervous.”

“Hey, me too.” I scoffed. He was more likely excited or just wanting this to be over. Stiles tilted his head and brought it back to look at me. “I’m serious. You couldn’t feel my hand shaking? Why do you think I had so much trouble undoing this freaking restraint?”

“Oh, so you’re otherwise an expert?”

“I can figure out a Rubix cube, puzzle boxes, secret Celtic runes; I think I can figure out how to take off a bra.” “You saw it in porn.” Stiles leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, an embarrassed frown audible in his answer, “Yup.”

Now, all I could notice were things that made me think about him above me in my bed. The way he sat down on Scott’s couch, getting comfortable by pushing his hips up to settle back down into the seat. I realized just how determined he was in his endeavor with me when I noticed his ‘focused’ face the other day and matched it to the one he was making as he stared down at me. He would scratch his forearm, and I’d think of him sliding it beneath me to help me get comfortable, and then his voice as we talked each other through the nerves.

We’ve been close for forever, but I never realized how often I touch him mindlessly until it felt like static every time I did it. My hand twitched as it rested on his back, for the first time wanting to ease up to the back of his head and play with his hair. A lot of things were the same, and it just felt like I was the problem. I felt like I was reading too far into my own emotions. Of course, I’d be a little frazzled and attached to my first time, but I had to remind myself I see him every day. He’s one of my best friends. This confusion will blow over.

Valentine’s Day was coming up. He should get you something, right? I mean, yeah, you guys aren’t dating, but you were each other’s first time. You were best friends. Does this qualify as friends with benefits? He wished he had asked before things settled back into normalcy–when he woke up with your head on his chest. It’s the week of. He could use a conversation with you about this. Friends for seven years, he knew Valentine’s Day was your second favorite holiday behind Halloween. Not because you’d ever had a valentine, but because you loved the definition you gave it. You did that to everything. Even if there was a preconceived understanding, you defined everything. He might’ve been the only one to notice. He loved your version of Valentine’s Day. You dress up, you curl your hair, do your makeup. You take the morning to get yourself coffee, listen to music, and be with yourself. You always came back with donuts for your friends because the day was about love in every aspect.

He needed to do something. Love in every aspect, right? Even in the weird, unsure, sort-of-still-stuck-on-you-when-he-shouldn’t-be way? He was a little late to be planning too much. You weren’t really a candy or chocolates girl; seven years of friendship, and you only had a select few stuffed animals; you liked to read, but the only thing he knew about the romance genre was that you didn’t read it often because it was getting more and more difficult to execute correctly. So, you stuck to the books you both needed to blow dust from, certain classics, banned books, and miscellaneous genres on your “To Be Read” list. Whatever he did, he was going to try and be cool about it.

He spent the day before Valentine’s Day in his kitchen practicing. The sheriff came home to his son washing a sink full of dishes and trying to force-feed him his dish. When his critique was satisfactory, Stiles let his dad go to bed and kept washing dishes. He set his alarm a little earlier than usual and went to bed, reassuring himself that he should show you he was thankful. You kind of made sure he wasn’t brutally sacrificed and, of course, that he got laid. And he did learn a few things about sex. Everything real so far, actually. Now that he thought about it, everything he knew was applicable to you. It wasn’t just girls in general who liked it when he made sure their hair was out of their face, it was you, and he did it because he knew you didn’t like your hair in your face. He was going to have trouble associating sex with anyone else for a while, at least. Or thinking about much else around you.

Of course, you took a late start from school, which left Stiles to think about you and what he should do for you more. When you showed up, he was in the hallway talking to Scott, walking down the stairs. He stopped talking, not at all helping Scott’s already unbearably correct assumption that you and him slept together. He stared at you as you glowed your way through the hallway. He stared at your red lipstick and the ribbon tying your hair out of your face, a job he wanted to do instead at that moment. How satisfying would it be if he walked down that hall and slung his arm around you? How good would it make him feel to walk around that day with a red kiss print on his cheek? On his neck. All over his goddamn face if you felt like it.

You saw him and grinned, holding up a bag of donut holes. He nodded, swallowing the urge to call you “honey” down. Partly because that was weird and partly because “Sunshine” fit you better at that moment. Before you reached him and Scott, you handed out the respective treats to Lydia and Allison, checking in on them once again after the latest test to the pack’s mental health. By the time you turned back to them, he was already following Scott to meet you.

His hands kept waking me up. On the sides of my arms, on my hips, my shoulders. I kept sitting up in bed and missing the feeling by milliseconds. It wasn’t ceremonious by any means, but it meant a lot to me. Not just because he did it, but because of how he did it. He made sure it felt right. He didn’t lose me in awkward silence, he encouraged me to speak up. After a while, I did the same. It was awkward, but I knew it would be. We just laughed it off. His fingers didn’t go through my hair smoothly at first, but he took the time to brush them out. I didn’t quite know how to lie down for him, but he had made me comfortable enough so that I felt okay asking. “Here,” he said as his hands guided my shoulders down, cradling my head before it hit the pillows. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t ask for it. I wanted to pull him down by the back of his neck and feel him kiss my head deeper into the pillows. His hands would wander further and get distracted, and he’d let go and forget the reason we were doing it in the first place. We were holding hands. He was mumbling questions for me as he lined himself up. Why shouldn’t I know what he tastes like?

You’re wearing the smile you always have when you do something nice. A little flustered as you hand people gifts or compliment them. The smile that kept distracting him when you walked up the bleachers with his number painted on your cheek. It was only the second game he was starting in, but he had your full support, even in the freezing weather. Lacrosse season is in winter, which is also sick season. You got sick this year, of course, and you showed up to two games with a cold. He met you after the game, trying not to cough on any proud parents. He was sweating, and you were shivering. With a congested cough, you gave him a thumbs up, and he sent you home to get some rest.

Now, you had a content look on your face, sort of like how you looked when you slept, watching your friends dig into your gifts. Stiles started walking, tapping your shoulder and nodding his head toward an empty classroom. You followed, not without hearing your friends giggle. When you both got away into the classroom, he turned quickly.

“Come to my house tonight. I don’t know if it’d be weird, but I sort of have this whole thing planned. If you think it’s weird, you don’t have to come, I just wanted to find a way to- to thank you, but if today wasn’t the right move–” “You planned something?” “I know just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re dating. I know we didn’t do it because of that, but I keep getting this feeling like I…”

He stared at you, not worried about ruining the friendship, but terrified you didn’t feel how he felt. “I feel like I want us to be dating after. I know it’s probably because it was my first time and I feel attached or whatever.”

“You feel that, too? I thought it was just– well, yeah.”

“You–” He watched you nervously stare at the ground.

“You know we never kissed? You were my first time and we never kissed.”

“I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles leaned in and you knew. He kissed you gently, just pressing his lips against yours before you pulled away, eyes widening. “Oh, shit.” You wiped his mouth with your sleeve, your red lipstick nearly staining his chin. You made sure to wipe as much as you could off without smudging it. Stiles flinched away and stopped you, “I want it.”

“I got it all. You can’t walk around like that. Am I good?”

He checked for smudging and softly wiped the side of your lip, “You’re great. I can walk around like that and proudly, too. Watch.”

You stopped him before he could kiss you again, laughing away the flush in your cheeks. He saw it regardless. “Uhm…Here. This’ll be more managable.”

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it, leaving your red kiss print on the back of his hand. Stiles admired it for a good thirty seconds before beaming up at you. When you promised to kiss him the right way at his house that night, he finally nodded and followed you back out into the hallway.

I opened the door and took my shoes off, hearing a small sound of panic from within the house. Stiles had heard me come in, running around the kitchen on a mission. Sitting where he told me, I was faced with two generic three-wick candles. He doesn’t exactly own a candelabra, I smiled to myself. Stiles had the food plated, he was just cleaning the area before bringing it out. I stood up to help, laughing when he whipped around and ordered me to stop, but continued into the kitchen. I didn’t stop laughing as I slipped past him to grab a few miscellaneous things off of the counter or when he took them out of my hands and backed me against the counter. “Stay there,” He said as he turned to put more utensils in the sink. He turned back to hold my shoulders because I was moving again. I smiled and caught him off guard, pressing my lips to his.

Admittedly, I should have been more considerate and wiped my lipstick off, but I liked the idea of how he’d look. His hands went slack on my shoulders, dropping to my waist. My nerves surged when I felt him hum into my lips. My heart rushed when he took the chance to deepen the kiss, the enthusiasm he put into it pushing my head back into his hand. I mirrored his movements as I slid my hand up to his shoulders. His face was tight with eagerness when I pulled away. He swallowed, lips pressing together. I then noticed my lipstick smudged across his mouth. It strayed above his lips in a hazy pink. I could only imagine what I looked like. I held in a laugh, which he met until we couldn’t. My laugh lasted longer while he focused on the red smeared on my chin. He pulled out his phone, holding it up to his face to take a picture.

“C’mere,” He mumbled, pressing his cheek to mine and snapping a picture of our mouths, both messy with my lipstick. I hid my face until he led me to my seat again, taking away my napkin so I knew he wanted us to sit together and eat with both of our mouths covered in smudged lipstick.

#mwah #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski x reader #fem reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #dylan o’brien #dylan obrien #✰lucky writes

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beauty-and-passion · 2 days ago

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TMA - Chapters 101-110: Killing Jon is a national sport

Great news, everyone: we reached the 100th MAG and we’re officially in the second half of the TMA series!

We learned a lot until now, but there are still a ton of mysteries left, a Stranger to defeat, a ritual that will destroy the world, and a creepy puppet lady who (hopefully!) just wants to talk to Jon.

Let’s find out more.

<< Main Masterlist <- Previous post

_______________________________

MAG 101 - Another Twist

Okay, I was expecting something to happen, but not this.

Nikola Orsinov is the best

I love how funny, cute and creepy she is. She’s a perfect package of fun - and the British accent makes her lady-like too, so she’s even more adorable.

Do you want proof of that?

Proof one:

She talks to Elias like a well-educated lady

The way she repeats “So, Elias, can I call you Elias?” is hilarious

Don’t worry, Nikola: maybe the other supernatural beings call Elias “The Eye”, but for a nice lady like you, I think he’ll gladly accept to be on a first-name basis.

She talks to Elias as if Jon is a toddler

Proof two:

But sure, of course my dear! Why search for a weird powerful skin everywhere, when you have a skin full of wet cat energy to use?

And also, why not kill Jon? This season is entirely dedicated to supernatural shit trying to kill Jon.

Proof three:

She disses Jon like a queen for his bad skincare routine.

If the Unknowing fails because of Jon’s bad skin, I will die laughing on the spot and TMA will automatically become best series ever.

Best Boyo is back for one reason and one reason only

And just when I asked myself if we would see a full skincare treatment, Michael appears. Finally, my boyo came back from… well, from wherever he was, I assume.

And why does he come back?

This is truly the season of supernatural shits trying to kill Jon! TMA is officially best series ever.

And what’s Michael’s reason?

He doesn’t want the Circus to win

He doesn’t want the Archives to win

He wants revenge for what Gertrude/the Archives/the Eye and his gang did to him

And speaking of this…

The Great Twisting

The Distortion and its acolytes tried to do a “Great Twisting” - which seems like what the Unknowing is for the Stranger.

It makes me wonder: is this a normal thing, for these supernatural entities, to try and “ascend” into our world through some sort of ritual? The Distortion tried through this Great Twisting, the Stranger is trying to do the same through the Unknowing: when will the Eye try to do the same? Did it already?

Gertrude’s plan and Michael’s role

Gertrude’s plan to stop this Great Twisting was simple yet effective: she forced the Distortion to incarnate. She gave it a physical body. And that made the entire ritual fall apart.

Makes sense. The Distortion is a force of the unknown, something unidentified: tying it to an identity, something clear, goes against its very essence, so it's understandable it would fail to "ascend" as Great Evil Godly Terror of Lies and Deceit and Unknown or whatever.

Now, I know Michael said that poor Michael Shelley (we finally got his full name!) was “disposable” and that’s why Gertrude sacrificed him… but honestly, I don’t think that.

Sure, Gertrude was probably ready to do anything to stop the Great Twisting and she was willing to sacrifice Michael Shelley. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t trust him.

If I were her and if I had to stop a powerful godly horror by giving it a physical body, I wouldn't pick someone just because he's "prepared" and "disposable". Even the most prepared guy could crumble and fail on a mission - or decide to not get the job done and run away. And disposable people are not a guarantee of success.

My main criteria would be to find someone I can trust. Someone I know won't mess things up. Someone who will follow my map to the end, do what he has to do and be strong enough to deal with the godly horror for years and years to come. Someone I can leave with the Distortion, knowing I can trust them with said god.

Becoming VS incarnating

It’s really interesting the difference in how the Distortion talks about the Great Twisting…

… vs how it’s like being incarnated:

Once again, it makes me wonder: is this what the Unknowing will be for the Stranger? A “joy of becoming”, something “crossing the threshold” into itself, as if the ritual is making the barrier between our world and theirs thinner? It’s fascinating to imagine how it would make an entity feel so good, so complete.

While speaking of incarnations, Jude, Michael Crew and even Jane Prentiss seemed to imply it was a great, marvelous feeling: they all talked about it as being finally complete.

But the Distortion describes it as something unpleasant. Could it be because the incarnation was being “forced” and not requested by the Distortion itself? After all, the Distortion wasn’t searching for Michael Shelley: it was Michael who went into it.

Micheal’s identity crisis

This backstory explains Michael’s confusion regarding his own identity much better, as well as why he keeps referring to himself as Michael, but also not as Michael. And it makes clearer why Helen resurfaces while Michael sinks in.

In a way, it kinda reminds me of a DID system, with personality states who are all part of a whole, but also moved by their own feelings and ideas. The Distortion seems to work the same way, even though the people inside it are not the ones they once were, but only shadows of them.

Speaking of Helen Richardson: when I checked MAG 47 to remember a bit about her, I noticed the first thing she did, was to draw a map. A fucking map of the Distortion she shows to Jon.

Could this be the reason why she managed to “resurface”? Because she also had a map, like Michael Shelley? That would be very cool.

Peter Lukas is back again

I knew these goddamn Lukas were always here, playing a role alongside the Eye and the Archives. Now we see another confirmation: Peter Lukas helped Gertrude against the Twisting.

Soooo… should we trust the guy? I don’t know, this family is too suspicious at this point.

The only one!

And finally, for the first time, a supernatural entity gives Jon a compliment.

After being told he’s a bad choice, he’s stupid, he’s rude and his skincare routine sucks, finally a supernatural entity tells him something nice.

Sure, it’s in between the “I’m going to kill you” discourse, but still counts.

_______________________________

MAG 102 - Nesting Instinct

I can’t believe it: is Jon finally realizing Elias does nothing besides sitting on his lazy ass?

JON ACKNOWLEDGES ELIAS IS USELESS! The world is beautiful and I can’t stop laughing.

Ahahaha, he “overreacted”! He killed him live on tape and that’s what he considers “overreacting”! Oh my gosh, Elias, never change <3

But let’s put Elias being amazing on the side: we finally have more clues regarding the Unknowing! And it’s as fascinating as I hoped!

So, it’s a dance, with dancers and a “prima ballerina” (aka the “Danseuse Étoile”) which is our favorite creepy lady Nikola. This explains the skin too: of course, since it’s a ballet they’re staging, they need the right costumes and everyone should follow a specific role, do the right steps and keep the right position. I really want to see this ballet taking place and find out how Jon is going to stop it.

Ooookay, so Jon is getting omniscient superpowers. Which is good if you’re the Eye, but not so good if you still want to keep a semblance of humanity.

I said Elias appreciation time was over, but I lied: it’s always Elias appreciation time.

Also, bless Melanie for trying everything to kill the motherfucker. She has more balls than everyone else, I stan her. But I also stan Elias being alive and being a bitch, sorry Melanie.

So Jon calms her down, thus proving he’s now Elias’ bagman. They’re a weirdly powerful couple and I would love to see them together in action. But I also know that Elias loves sitting on his ass too much, to get up and be a man of action, so if they pair up together, I imagine Jon would be left on his own to deal with cosmic powers that want him dead. And since I don’t want him dead, it’s better if he’s paired with someone who can properly defend him.

But hey, I suppose my worries about his life will soon be over, because his cosmic, omniscient powers are growing even more. Now, he’s able to understand languages he never spoke before. I was just asking myself why this statement, when he revealed it was all written in French. Nice way to surprise the reader, Mr. Sims.

Okay, so the Hive (and its ilk) is part of the Filth. Gosh, I fear I will soon need a chart or a table of sorts, to put together every entity into their respective “family”. But I’m also scared to search for one now, because I don’t want to get any spoilers.

_______________________________

MAG 103 - Cruelty Free

A statement about an evil, supernatural pig - possibly connected with the supernatural meat. But also not, because pigs can and will eat you, if you stand still a bit too long, supernatural or not.

And I’m pretty sure of that because my uncle has pigs. Luckily for him, his pigs have always been big cowards and run away as soon as they see a human getting closer to the pen. But considering how voraciously they eat and how easily they can break open fruits and vegetables, no matter how hard they are… yep, they would easily smash and crunch human flesh as if nothing.

So no, this statement isn’t much scary, but rather something that might happen anywhere, anytime.

Well, aside from the weirdly demonic possession that pushes you to open the cage and weird long gazes from a pig who wants to either kill you or become your bestie. I definitely didn’t expect the evil pig to snuggle with Mr. Anderson like a house cat. It was funny, though.

And right after that, we get a glimpse of how Jon’s omniscient powers are working (he knows Kurt Anderson will be useful) and especially how his “persuasion powers” are working.

I’ll admit it: it was pretty cool to see Jon release the wet cat energy, make his question and get the exact answer he wants. And yes, I know this shouldn’t be a good thing, because it only proves Jon is connecting to the Eye even more… but it’s so cool! He asked Kurt his darkest secret and used it to bribe him for those documents and he did it so well! Urgh, I know I should be scared for him, but the coolness is too much to ignore it.

Oh my, the best action couple is back! So Jon talks to Daisy in the tunnels beneath the Archives, because Elias won’t see them there. Why?

Oh my gosh, Elias does something in his life. He schedules. Schedules what, how much time he’s going to spend doing nothing, aside from watching everyone with his Eye powers?

Here it is, the constant of this season: everyone wants to kill Jon. If this man survives this season, he will survive everything.

Killing urges aside, Daisy will take care of things while Jon is away dealing with shit. My question is: why are you going away without telling anything to your colleagues, Jon? Hadn’t you realized you have to cooperate with them? Still trying to protect them from you and Elias, by keeping them away?

But I can also understand his choice: his colleagues all work there and if Elias can see and listen to everything, I don’t think there’s something that stops him from looking into their minds and simply knowing of Jon’s plan.

_______________________________

MAG 104 - Sneak Preview

Oh my gosh, I was expecting Tim’s mental breakdown maybe, but not some of his background! And I wasn’t expecting to find out that Tim had a goddamn brother and he lost said brother to the Circus, because another evil clown stole his skin!

Again, this explains a lot: why Tim came to the Institute, why he knew about Robert Smirke’s architecture… and I’m afraid it tells us a lot about his future too:

If Tim had a “DEAD” sign on his head before, now the sign is flashing too. Tim is basically dead. RIP Tim, it has been a pleasure and an honor to know you.

But before dying, there is something Tim must still do, which is a wonderful back-and-forth with Elias:

I love Elias, but I love Tim too. He got my heart with the “statement of Joooe Spooky” from season 1, he still gets my heart with sarcasm.

And Elias tells Tim to stay away from the Unknowing. Uhm… very evil, I guess? I mean, he has eeeevil plans, but he’s also trying to save Tim’s life and ignore he’s already dead.

I think it just confirms Elias is the best.

But Tim doesn’t care: he knows he will die, so he’s trying to find a way to die, somehow:

It’s very sad I asked Elias the same thing two posts ago. But I suppose this just confirms my darkest fear: Tim will die. Maybe not because Elias will bash his head with a pipe, but he will. His days are numbered. And if he won’t die because of Elias, he will die by getting his revenge on the Circus.

And you know what? I would be okay with that. Because that would make Tim happy and if Tim is happy, I’m happy too.

Also, he will finally be able to rest and he deserves it.

_______________________________

MAG 105 - Total War

Okay, so despite the promising title, this was an useless statement.

Sure, the imagery of the wandering soldier, followed by an army of dead people who keep killing everyone around him, while he waits for them to finally kill him too is interesting. But, again, it’s useless for the plot.

And I know Jon acknowledged it too, just like I know we needed him to go to the Pu Songling Research Centre because the author wanted to:

show us how far Jon is going, while following Gertrude’s steps

show us his powers are growing, because now he can understand all languages

casually tell us Gerard Keay is alive?

I mean:

"I’ve chased dead end to dead end until I finally give up. I-I mean, what am I actually looking for? Gerard Keay, after he faked his death? Some long confession he left tucked away in a library somewhere, telling me the ancient chant I need to stop the Unknowing from coming to pass?"

Sure, this may be just Jon making assumptions, rather than him using his powers of absolute knowledge to reveal that my man Gerard didn’t die of a brain tumor, but he’s still alive and well. I know all of that.

However, I still cannot understand why Mr. Sims (the author, I mean) wasted one statement like this. This isn’t the first time he has done that and he did it waaaaay more in the first two seasons. But why is he still doing it? It’s weird, coming from someone with such a big attention to detail.

My possible explanations are always the same:

he liked this idea and didn’t want to discard it

he needed some fillers to reach the number of 120 episodes for season 3

this statement is somehow useful?

Even though I really doubt the third point is correct, because there have been some statements in seasons 1 and 2 that have been completely useless. Unless they all reconnect somehow by the end of the series, I doubt we will remember or consider them anymore.

_______________________________

MAG 106 - A Matter of Perspective

And just when I was ready to talk about space and solitude and this humongous creature that makes me think hey, maybe that’s the Vast… I get hit by a train of things happening all together.

Let’s start from the statement: Jan Kilbride was a familiar name, in fact Gertrude mentioned him in MAG 99. What happened to this guy? Well, aside from the weird space thing.

And speaking of that… since he talked about “existential vertigo” I felt the Vast was involved. Then “Mr. Fairchild” was mentioned and that only confirmed that yes, this is the Vast.

Mr. Fairchild chose this guy by referring to his psychiatric profile? Now I’m 200% sure there is a supernatural entity involved, this is the Vast and Mr. Fairchild was probably trying to find a new avatar for it. I mean, fucking Elias did the exact same thing and every other evil mastermind like him picks the right people by checking their psychiatric/psychological profiles.

So poor Jan Kilbride experienced the Vast the same terrifying way Robert did in MAG 21. Luckily for him, he wasn’t eaten by the universe like Robert was eaten by the sky, but it was pure luck, probably. Or maybe the universe returned to claim him, since Melanie couldn’t find anything about him and Gertrude mentioned him.

And just when I thought this was all, we got the best parts of the episode:

1) Gossip time

So let me get this straight: Martin’s crush is so obvious even the newcomers realized it 20 seconds after he introduced himself?

And they’re casually discussing Jon’s virginity like this? I am dying, please send help.

And then, as if the juicy gossip wasn’t enough, Melanie reveals Jon and Georgie used to date in the past?! So Georgie isn’t just a friend, she’s Jon’s ex! I hope Martin doesn’t know Jon hid at his ex’s house, or he would probably find a way to send another supernatural shit after her.

Don’t look at me like that: Martin is a cinnamon roll, but he’s also fucked up enough to do it.

Anyway, glad to know Jon and Martin are the canon couple. They’re not yet, sure, but it’s a matter of time. Sooner or later, these two will end up together and I can’t wait for it. I just hope Martin won’t kill Jon’s ex in the meantime.

2) Elias’ performance review

Elias pretends to do his job: that’s hilarious just like that.

But hey, once in a while, even Elias does something, so why not do Melanie’s performance review?

He asks Melanie how she find her job - aside from “being forced to stay here, trapped by a psychopath”. So it’s basically like every other job, I suppose she doesn’t have much else to say.

Melanie tells Elias he “sat up here lurking”, which is just a nicer way to say “You sit on your ass 24/7 doing absolutely nothing”. Glad to know everyone is acknowledging Elias’ uselessness, I said it since season 1.

In pure Pinky and the Brain style, Melanie does the same thing she does every night, which is plotting Elias’ demise.

MELANIE TOO CHALLENGES ELIAS TO KILL HER! Oh my god, what’s with all those characters and death wishes? Stop asking to get killed!

Ivy Meadows from MAG 36! Glad to see all characters are reconnecting to some places and/or previous statements!

So Melanie’s father died there, killed by that thing inside (the Filth?). And since Elias is a good boss and a caring guy, he wants Melanie to know the truth, so he fucking shows her the horrible way her father died.

And he threatens her to haunt her forever with that knowledge, if she doesn’t stop interfering.

Now, I know I said Melanie must be protected at all costs… but come on, this guy is an absolute bitch, how can I not stan him? Just look at this smug bastard, how he goes from being terrifying, to pretending to care with the “Oh take your time, take the day off even!”, to a hint of a devious smile when he says her performance “has been... satisfactory”. Fuck you Elias, I hate you and I love you.

_______________________________

MAG 107 - Third Degree

Ah, so Gertrude was arrested right after Gerard’s death, because she was caught in the morgue “over the body of Gerard Keay, reading from a large, strangely shaped book”.

Well, glad to know my man Gerard is alive and well. The rebel boy of my heart will come back, I still cannot believe it <3

Also, all my previous points regarding the useless statements have been thrown out of the window, because Mr. Sims found a perfect way to put them in. They’re still filler, sure, but now their presence makes sense: Jon needs them. Physically.

However, why does he need one, now? I mean, he’s doing research and he’s already getting stories from people, while retracing Gertrude’s steps. Maybe those stories aren’t big and satisfactory enough for his new Eye powers?

The statement per se, despite being useless, is also very creepy. Is the police officer an avatar of the Flame? In that case, it makes the whole interrogation even better because it would be the first time (since Michael’s conversation with Sasha) that a supernatural entity in its purest form talks with a human (Jon is not exactly a human anymore) - and even asks “Who am I?”, by knowing the human knows too. Very cool, very creepy, love it.

But also: is that police officer the same Max Mustermann we meet later on? Can Elias see the future now? I won’t be too surprised, considering the clever, cunning bitch he is.

And speaking of him: Jon ran away, he’s going all over the world in his research, saying almost nothing to not let others know where he is… and Elias casually sends him an envelope to his last location, with a statement to give him to "eat". How can I not love this guy.

Okay, Julia Montauk was NOT on my bingo card and Trevor Herbert even less. But oh gosh, it has been amazing to see them again!

First, she casually kidnaps Jon because why not - and hey, at least it loks like she doesn’t want to kill him.

Then, Mustermann is back and as soon as I read the name, I knew I’ve heard it before - and I was right! It was the placeholder name for unidentifiable men! The same from MAG 34! Back then it was for a woman (Erika Mustermann), while now it’s for a man, but still. Pretty cool comeback.

And I’m really happy to see Trevor Herbert again, he was such a cool guy! I’m very pleased to see two secondary characters cooperating. Until now, all the people who came with statements barely served any other purpose, aside from “people who have a story”. So seeing two of them being present, doing stuff and knowing each other is pretty cool. It makes the whole TMA world feel more alive.

I’m hyped now, I want to see what they’ll do together.

_______________________________

MAG 108 - Monologue

So, a statement about an actor who loves monologuing and is haunted by a creepy theater mask which is actually nothing physical aside from an image of the solitude he’s surrounded by and can’t escape from.

I’m still not sure which kind of supernatural shit is this, but it reminds me of how isolated Martin felt at the beginning of this season, which is not a very good sign.

Even worse, right after that, Peter Lukas casually enters the room and has a chat with Martin and what the fuck is happening here.

PETER: Ah, I see. I'm sorry to have disturbed you. It’s one of Elias’ little jokes. (...) PETER: Did he suggest you record a statement today? One that mentioned me? (...) PETER: Right. I have a meeting with him today. He suggested ... I’m sure he’s watching from his office, grinning from ear to ear.

Ah, now I get it: it was all because Elias was getting bored. Why not scare the shit out of his own employees, by sending his friend to collect complaints and suggestions? Sure, of course, that’s the most sensible thing anyone would do.

So Peter Lukas is:

friendly vibes

a weird supernatural shit by his own admission

Elias’ bestie

the umpteenth person to acknowledge Elias does nothing all day (“Elias Bouchard getting his hands dirty. Well, well, it must be the end times.”)

the Archives’ complaints department

Elias’ boss apparently, considering he can scold the bitch for wasting each other’s time

So if we associate the story with the guy… I don’t know, it looks like he can create “pockets” of solitude in which he can trap people. Maybe that’s what he did to Brian on MAG 100 too and the fog was another supernatural shit.

There’s still so much to know about these Lukas and this Peter is interesting. I want to know more about him - even though I fear him a bit too: if Elias told the others to not interfere with this family, there should be a very valid reason.

But also: they’re besties. So… I don’t know, I think I want to see them interacting.

_______________________________

MAG 109 - Nightfall

A good backstory, we needed it.

Or more like… a connection story? As Jon said, when we left Julia Montauk and Trevor Herbert, they were doing completely different things. And yes, I forgot he was supposed to die. But can you blame me? No one really dies in this series.

Well, except the few who dies. And the people killed by Elias. The man may be lazy, but when it’s killing time, at least he makes it sure the people stay dead.

So Trevor was following a guy he thought was a vampire, but it came out he was one of the guys related to Julia’s story. The closed eye symbol is connected to the People's Church of the Divine Host, right? And Basira was reading something about it in the previous statement. Something regarding:

an eclipse on Ny-Ålesund

the relationship between Edmond Halley and John Flamsteed

which I thought were not important, but now I suppose they will be. Also because I thought these people were all somehow related to the supernatural shit with eyes aka the Eye. Will these people come back too?

Mustermann was involved in the Unknowing? Well, it makes sense: he’s an unidentified person, of course he’s in cahoots with the Stranger and the unknown. What will they do, then? Will Jon interrogate him? Will he find out more? Will we finally meet Gerard?

_______________________________

MAG 110 - Creature Feature

A statement about a director obsessed with a non-existent film regarding a huge man-eating spider, who casually finds the book this supposed movie is based on.

Yes, I was sure it was a Leitner the exact moment he said it.

Oh my gosh Martin, I love you you huge dork <3 but also Basira is right and wrong at the same time: sure, standing with a cup of tea does nothing really useful… but let’s not forget Martin is the same guy who found out how to kill worms with a corkscrew, so maybe it’s better when he cares rather than when he leans into insanity.

Also, I wonder if we will keep this alternating between Jon and Martin throughout the next episodes. It’s entertaining to see both sides: the Archivist dealing with random shits related to the Unknowing, while the Archives deal with Elias.

And I cannot believe it, but we have an explanation regarding Elias’ lazy ass. We have a fucking explanation about why Elias does nothing all day.

They’re telling me Elias did absolutely nothing for two seasons and spends his time sitting on his ass 24/7… because he’s busy listening and watching everywhere? He can literally do nothing, otherwise he won’t know what’s happening?

That’s surprisingly clever and I’m angry it makes so much sense: this goddamn fucker literally cannot work or he won’t feed his supernatural powers! I hate him and I love him.

And yes, I will keep using his laziness to make fun of him anyway. It's too funny.

_______________________________

In conclusion

Every episode gives me a more valid reason to stan Elias and hate him at the same time. Now there’s apparently a way to get past him and I cannot wait to see what the gang will do. I’m excited ✨

But I’m even more excited to see the possible Jon-Gerard meeting. My man is alive, the rebel boy, the one who beat the shit out of Leitner: he’s alive and I can’t wait to see him again.

The next ten episodes will also be the last of this season and I’m both scared and hyped to see how it will end: how will the gang stop the Unknowing? Will Tim get his revenge and die heroically or will he survive despite the “DEAD” sign flashing on his head? Will Elias be a huge bitch once again? Will Melanie finally find a way to kill him? Will we see more of Peter “good vibes” Lukas? Will Jon come back from his world tour? Will Martin confess his feelings (as if no one already knows about them)?

We’ll find out next week. Until now, take care of yourself <3

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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#the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #magnus archives #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #martin blackwood #tim stoker #melanie king #basira hussain #daisy tonner #michael #michael shelley #peter lukas

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awardenandacrow · 3 days ago

Note

Alright, so sorry for the long wait, but I’ve finally circled back around to write for prompt 22, @hyperions-light ‘s other ask, which is Grey Warden Rook encountering their first Darkspawn. I’ve been ruminating on it, because I need to do some setup, which will make this kind of long for a prompt answer, but I hope ya’ll will enjoy it still!

There’s a familiar (?) face here for y’all because I CAN.

CW/TW: strong language, blood, violence, body horror (Darkspawn)

Note: there’s a LOT of setup and y’all probably didn’t sign up for that but it’s important to me telling myself the story as well as telling y’all. Also I don’t know if this will actually make it into the fic but we’ll call it Snippet 45 for fun anyway.

——————————————————————————

“Why not send Naimeryn out with them?”

Naimeryn froze, her knuckles inches from the door. It had been Markus, the librarian’s, voice.

Was he… vouching for her?

“Who?”

Naimeryn rolled her eyes. All these years of putting her through the abyss, and he still didn’t even know her first name.

“He’s referring to Warden Thorne,” Lucienne’s voice chimed in. “While I’m hesitant to share Markus’s… *enthusiasm,* I can see the wisdom in the suggestion.”

“You’re *joking,*” The First Warden’s tone was livid. “You want me to send that girl out of the fortress?”

“There is nothing for her to do in the library,” Markus said. “My notes are impeccably organized. There isn’t a spec of dust to be found. The old tomes have been meticulously repaired — I didn’t even teach her how to do that, she taught herself. Not a volume out of place. I simply have no work for her.”

Naimeryn knew pride was dangerous, but she felt her chest swell with it anyway. Figuring out how to repair the damaged bindings had been a long, slow process, but seeing all of the books looking clean and new on their shelves was worth it.

“Warden Lucienne,” the First Warden tried again. “You *truly* think unleashing her on Thedas is *wise*?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lucienne snorted in that derisive way she had. “It’s a scouting mission, most of the members of which are experienced Wardens. We aren’t sending her alone into Minrathos on a recruitment mission.”

*Good thing,* Naimeryn thought. *I would* definitely *fuck that up.*

“Do you remember when she —“

“It was nearly *ten years ago,* First Warden,” Lucienne snapped at him. “There have been no such incidents since. She completed her final project perfectly. She recovered well from her Joining. She has done everything around Weisshaupt you have ever asked, but she has *never* faced even a single Darkspawn. She has nothing left to learn within these walls. And frankly, none of us think it’s right to keep a Warden, *especially* one hand-picked by Warden-Commander Mahariel, locked up here, what? Until her Calling comes?”

“What harm can she really do?” This voice belonged to another of the senior Wardens, though she didn’t know his name. “This is my mission, so if you truly think this Naimeryn Thorne would be a detriment, I would like to know why.”

“We are discussing a *barely competent* elvish mage with no specialization or talent,” the First Warden boomed, and Naimeryn felt herself shrink back from the door. “She has been running around Weisshaupt since she was a teenager, wreaking havoc and causing chaos no matter what she touches. It’s a wonder she isn’t an abomination and Weisshaupt’s halls aren’t flooded with demons!”

“With all due respect, First Warden,” Naimeryn gasped. That was *Amaya.* “Not having a specialization *does not* make her ‘barely competent.’”

“Warden —“

“I would like to hear what Warden Amaya has to say,” Lucienne cut him off. “She comes from a prominent Altus family, and she is a member of Naimeryn’s Joining class. She is more than qualified to speak on the subject.”

“Thank you, Mage Warden Lucienne. Naimeryn is a friend, and I will say that up front, and allow you to make of it what you will. As one of the more junior Wardens selected to join this reconnaissance mission, I can tell you that Naimeryn can *only* be an asset to the team. She is dedicated, and dilligent. Her attention to detail is impressive, and her instincts are *good.* She wants nothing more from the Wardens than a chance to do something good. And if I may be frank, First Warden, she *deserves* the chance to prove you *wrong.* She can be a good Warden, if only you allow her the chance to *try.*”

Naimeryn’s eyes stung. Amaya’s speech was so impassioned, and on her behalf? She waited with bated breath. Would it be enough?

“I’m convinced,” said the senior Warden who was to lead the mission, “though as always, I defer to you, First Warden.”

Should she go through with her plan? Knock? Say her piece? Beg for a chance? Would seeing her undo any shift in his mind the others’ words had brought on? She chewed her lip so hard she tasted blood.

“Warden Amaya, are you prepared to assume responsibility for Warden Thorne?”

Everything went deathly quiet. Naimeryn closed her eyes and turned away from the door. Well, that was that. If that was the only way he’d let her leave Weisshaupt, then leave Weisshaupt she never would. She felt her shoulders slump and her head drop.

“It would be my *honor,*” she heard Amaya snap. “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

Dread stirred in the pit of Naimeryn’s stomach. No, no! What if he was right? What if she proved a liability? What if she messed up? She didn’t want to be the reason Amaya got into trouble! A purple haze floated at the edges of her vision.

*No,* she thought resolutely, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high. She *wouldn’t* be the reason Amaya got into trouble.

…

“Warden-Commander?” Naimeryn said nervously, hesitating before following Amaya up the inn stairs.

“Carver, please, Naimeryn,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s just… you’re Carver *Hawke*, aren’t you?” She asked cautiously. His arm paused, his glass halfway to his lips.

“What of it?”

Naimeryn sensed she was on thin ice. Maybe she should drop it? She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry if this is out of line, ser,” she said. “I don’t pretend to know *anything* about you just from reading Varric Tethras’s work. I just… I heard about what happened, at Adamant? With the Inquisition. I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss.”

Warden-Commander Hawke looked genuinely surprised. The other senior Wardens were staring at her, some shifting uncomfortably, some wearing thinly veiled expressions of disapproval. No matter what their relationship had been like… that had been his last blood relative, to her knowledge. She knew the sting of that loss, how strange it was to know that you were truly, finally, completely alone. To be the last one standing, whatever that really meant, trying to navigate it on your own.

It had been some years, now, of course. Maybe she shouldn’t have…

“Thank you, Naimeryn,” Carver said finally. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Rest up.”

…

“It should just be a small band, if anything,” Carver told them, pointing at the smoke at the center of the village. “Looks like they broke through right at the heart of town.”

“So what do we do?” Naimeryn asked.

“I’m sending Fraeska here to Weisshaupt for backup,” Carver said, patting the slim elf on the shoulder. “She’s the fastest runner I know — she’ll grab a mount in the last town we passed, and be there by morning. The rest of us, we’ll split up into pairs and establish a perimeter, make sure civilians can safely get to the outskirts, and contain any Darkspawn that get too bold and spread out from the sinkhole. We should have reinforcements by tomorrow night, next morning at the latest, and then we storm the hole, end the incursion, and go home heroes.”

Fraeska nodded. “See you soon, Warden-Commander.”

And then she ran, with a swiftness Naimeryn would not have believed had she not seen it herself.

“All right, so. Antoine and Evka, you obviously work well together, so you’re team one,” Carver said. Elf and dwarf nodded in unison. “I’ll have the two of you go the long way; circle up to the north side of town, there.”

He pointed past the smoke plume, closer to the foothills. Antoine and Evka voiced their acknowledgement. Hamish and another dwarf, Egherd, were assigned the northeast, two young rogues were assigned the east side, while two older Wardens, were given the northwest. West and southwest were also given to older Wardens.

Naimeryn scooted closer to Amaya. She didn’t *know* Naimeryn knew she had accepted responsibility for her, but she also likely would think Naimeryn just *wanted* to be paired with her. But when Carver spoke, he paired Amaya with the last of the older Wardens, a man named Goff.

“Not Naimy?” Amaya asked in surprise.

Carver smirked. “No, Warden Amaya. I’d like to take Warden Naimeryn along myself, if there are no objections?”

Naimeryn hadn’t realized she’d made that good of an impression over the last few days. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head. She smiled at Amaya, who gave her a quick nod.

“All right Wardens. Let’s move.”

…

“I feel them,” Naimeryn said suddenly.

“Me too,” Carver nodded solemnly. “It feels… wrong. Larger than a small incursion.”

He knocked on the next door. The villagers inside were wide-eyed, terrified.

“Oh, thank the Maker!” The woman sobbed, a young girl clinging to her skirts. “Grey Wardens! We didn’t know if we should stay and hide, or —“

“It’s all right, ma’am,” Naimeryn said gently. “We’re evacuating everyone to the cliffs to the sou—“

Eerie whispers flooded Naimeryn’s head, without having passed through her ears. The Blight in her blood sang beneath them, sinister notes dripping in rage and malice. She shook her head against the headache mounting at the base of her skull, aware of Carver rushing the villagers out, but barely able to hear him.

“They’re under us,” she told Carver, even as his arm was circling her waist.

The ground where they’d been standing fell away as Carver spun them to safely, a yawning mouth down into the Deep Roads now gaping at them where none had been. Carver released her and loosed his sword, and on sheer instinct she grabbed her staff.

They came flooding from the hole like ants from an anthill one had been unlucky enough to disturb, clawing their way through and over one another. Their eyes glowed red. Their skin was taut against their bones, mottled red and black and pale, pale white with bulging black tendrils of Blight choking their limbs and necks. They snarled and roared and growled and moved *wrong.* Jerky, uncontrolled steps and wild, unpredictable swinging of claws and weapons made of bone or old, rusted metal.

And the smell. Rotting flesh and blood in equal measure.

Naimeryn thought she might be sick, or freeze in her panic, but neither of those things happened. Instead, she swept her staff out in front of her, sending a wave of magic in an arc in front of Carver and herself, knocking the first wave of Darkspawn back into the second. Carver let out a battle cry and charged. Before joining him, Naimeryn sent sparks of magic into the sky above them. If the others weren’t already fighting as well, they would know they were needed.

She returned her attention in front of her in time to slam her staff into the ground to blast three Darkspawn back away from herself.

“There’s too many!” Carver yelled to her. “This was just supposed to be a small incursion!”

He grunted in pain as a genlock barreled into him, knocking him into a wall.

“Carver!” Naimeryn shouted, summoning all of her mana and throwing a blast of arcane bolts at the line of Darkspawn. They shrieked as they caught aflame, and she fought her way to him as he relieved the genlock of its head.

“You’re hurt!” She said, seeing blood at the torn seams of his armor.

“We’ve got to fall back,” he grunted, shoving her away from him and starting to follow. “Move, move!”

She turned and ran the direction he’d indicated, periodically throwing blasts of magic over her shoulder. Where were the others? Were they all right?

Naimeryn came around the corner and found herself face to face with an ogre.

She’d known they were big. But this monster towered over her, nearly three times her height, breathing hot air down at her while it’s glowing red eyes narrowed and its fanged mouth seemed to *smile.* She screamed, falling backward, barely conjuring a shield in time to protect herself from the downswing of its giant bone club.

Carver leapt in front of her, using the club as a springboard and sinking his sword deep into the ogre’s chest. With a roar, it collapsed. Naimeryn leapt to her feet, fending off the incoming ghouls from behind them with blast after blast from her staff, all the while backing towards the ogre carcass and Carver, struggling to retrieve his sword from its flesh.

“Incoming!”

From the rooftops, arrows began to rain down on the Darkspawn. With them preoccupied for a moment, Naimeryn spun and ran up the ogre’s body, wrapping her hands around the hilt of Carver’s sword with him. She planted her boot on the damned thing’s jaw and threw all of her weight back with him. The two of them nearly fell as it finally came loose.

“Goff! Is anywhere clear?” Carver shouted up to the roof.

“They’re not on the north side yet!” Came the reply. “But you and Thorne need to get out of the streets!”

“Working on it!”

Carver slammed his body into the nearest door, and with a splintering of wood, it gave way.

“Go, go!” He pushed her in ahead of him. “Up the stairs!”

She started up them as he toppled a heavy piece of furniture across the open doorway. His footsteps behind her were as thunderous as her own heartbeat in her ears.

This wasn’t a small incursion. This was damned near a *horde!*

The second floor landing ended in a locked door.

“Wait, wait!” She waved her hand at Carver to back up a step, then blasted it open with her staff. She ran into the small bedroom ahead of him — there was only one window, on the back side of the house. Naimeryn crossed to it quickly, throwing it open. The street below was clear, but there was nothing to break the two-story fall. She twisted to look up, but there was nothing to climb. They’d have to jump to the eaves and heft themselves up, but the rooves she could see didn’t look very sturdy. It was their best shot.

“Can you jump?” she asked Carver, turning to face him. He had gathered the bedspread from the single bed against the back wall, and was attempting to stuff it into his torn armor to staunch the bleeding. He was pale. Too pale.

“Warden-Commander?” She asked nervously. Before he could answer, a ghoul burst up the stairs into her room. Naimeryn blasted it back down the stairs, cracking her staff across the head of another. She ran to the wardrobe, jumping onto one side of it and toppling it, rolling out of the way just before being crushed herself. A ghoul who tried to sneak under before it completely blocked the doorway was not so lucky.

“That won’t hold them long,” Naimeryn fretted, rushing back to Carver’s side. “I’m no good with healing spells. We need to get you to Amaya.”

“Can we get to the roof?” Carver wanted to know.

“Can you jump?” She repeated, guiding him to the window. His steps were wobbily. Creators, what was she going to do?

“Ladies first,” he smirked at her. He looked suddenly very boyish, though she knew he was not.

“I’m not an idiot,” Naimeryn shook her head. “We have a better chance of both getting out if you go first and can take your time. Come on.”

Carver hesitated, then stepped onto the window frame as the wardrobe began to rattle in earnest. He puffed out his cheeks and jumped up, grabbing the roof. As he did, the windowsill crumbled, leaving a hole in the wall where Naimeryn would have stepped. Behind her, the wardrobe rocked.

“Goff!” She heard Carver yell. She stuck her head out the hole in the wall in time to see the others hefting him over the edge. Creators have mercy.

The wardrobe flew across the room, smashing into the back wall and crumbling into splinters over the bed. Naimeryn whirled around and threw a blast at the charging Darkspawn, forgetting she stood at the edge of a whole in the wall.

“Naimeryn!” Someone shouted as she fell backwards towards the street.

She twisted, throwing a spell at the ground and just barely managing to break her fall.

“Thorne!” Goff was shouting. “Get your ass up here!”

Naimeryn clambered back to her feet and ran, not needing to see them or be told that the Darkspawn were hard on her heels. She leapt up onto piles of crates, onto a wagon, across an awning, onto a narrow balcony, and finally up onto a rooftop on the opposite side of the street.

“Head north!” Carver was shouting to her. “Find Antoine and Evka! We need to regroup!”

Hey! 22 or 17 for the Rook story time prompts!

So I initially was going to jump on 22, because my knee jerk reaction was to laugh at the thought of Naimeryn teaching someone else a skill. BUT, then I remembered that I have this headcannon that Naimy wouod totally wash everyone’s laundry for them, kind of out of habit to fill the time, but also kind of as a “I care about you so I will voluntarily do for you this thing I was for years FORCED to do”, and then I was that gif of excited Chris Pratt as this idea came to me. So, I will circle back to prompt 22 at a later date, and right now here’s the answer to Story Time Prompt 17: Rook teaches someone a new skill.

This functions as FANFIC SNIPPET 37; and will chronologically fall shortly after the snippet where the Bellara and Lucanis find out Naimy’s favorite breakfast food is pancakes.

[Lucanis finds out Naimeryn does everyone’s laundry for them.]

——————————————————————————

“Rook? What are you doing?”

“Oh, Lucanis!” Naimeryn squeaked, jumping and dropping several of the linens off the top of her basket. She turned to face him so she could see him. He looked surprised to have startled her.

“Sorry,” she said before he could speak, stooping to pick up what she’d dropped with one hand, holding the basket against her hip with the other. “I didn’t hear — or see — you leave the pantry.”

“Apologies,” he returned. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Naimeryn straightened up and shrugged with a shy smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just still getting used to the dead zone.”

She waved her left hand next to her face good-naturedly. A thought occurred to her, and she quickly dropped her hand. A master assassin would probably think someone who was half-deaf and half-blind an unfit leader. She smoothed her tunic over her thigh anxiously.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, then said “You… didn’t answer my question. What is all that?”

“Oh! It’s everyone’s laundry. I try to do it on days I don’t have to leave the Lighthouse. Make sure everyone’s sheets are nice and fresh, that kind of thing. I know it’s only been a few days, and you don’t really… sleep. But, do you want me to do yours?”

Lucanis frowned. “You… do the team’s laundry?”

“Yeah…” Naimeryn’s chest squeezed. Was that… wrong? “It’s just something small I can do so no one else has to worry about it, you know?”

Lucanis looked unconvinced. “Doesn’t the Lighthouse just… provide clean sheets?”

Naimeryn opened her mouth. Shut it again. She hadn’t thought about that. “Oh… I don’t know. I found the laundry room right after Bellara moved in and I just… started doing it.”

“Do the others know?”

“I… I don’t know that either. Does it matter?”

“I feel like I’m upsetting you.”

“*No,*” Naimeryn said quickly, dropping more of the laundry as she reached out to touch his arm reassuringly. Quickly pulled her hand back. What if he didn’t like being touched? She shouldn’t be overly familiar. They’d really just met. “No, no, I — *ow*!”

They’d both bent down to pick up the fallen laundry at the same time, and their heads had collided.

“I am *so* sorry,” Naimeryn said miserably as he rubbed his head. “I — I’m gonna just. Go.”

“You have a lot there,” Lucanis said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Would you like some help?”

“I —“ Naimeryn didn’t know what to say. No one had ever offered to help her with a chore before. Would it be all right to accept his help? Before she could decide, he’d gathered the fallen items in his arms.

“Let me help,” he said firmly. Naimeryn felt her cheeks flush at how earnestly he was looking at her.

“All right,” she mumbled. “It’s this way.”

She led him past the stairs up to the deck, to the stairs that lead down, beneath the dining hall. It was still strange to her how the room had simply not existed when she’d first explored the Lighthouse, but once there were four of them, the stairs had just… appeared.

“I must warn you,” Lucanis said, stepping onto her right side as they walked down together. Her heart fluttered. What was wrong with her? “I have never done laundry in my life.”

Naimeryn started to laugh, then caught his expression. “*Never*?”

He shook his head. “I’m the First Talon’s grandson. We had servants for that.”

*Servants?* a nasty voice prickled at the back of her mind. *Or* slaves?

Naimeryn swallowed the thought and forced herself to smile at him. “I guess that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about how lucrative being a Crow must be.”

“Our services are *very* expensive,” he allowed with a slight bob of his head.

“Good thing Varric’s coffers are paying then,” Naimeryn wanted to sound carefree, but nerves stirred deep in her core. It never occurred to her to think about the money. “Anyway, here we are.”

She walked to the large round tub at the center of the room, reaching up to pull the chord to fill it with hot water.

“Where does the water come from, I wonder?” Lucanis said, more the himself than to her, setting the clothes and sheets in his arms on the stone edge of the tub.

“Hm, dunno,” Naimeryn eyed the spout as she put the basket down as well. “We’re basically right under the kitchen, so logistically it makes no sense. But then, Fade logic is its own beast.”

As the room filled with steam, Naimeryn went to the shelf and gathered the soaps and two washboards.

“This is not easy work,” Naimeryn warned Lucanis, turning back to him. He was already rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Naimeryn swallowed thickly.

*Get it together!* she groaned internally. *They’re just forearms, Creators have mercy!*

“I am no stranger to hard work,” he cocked an eyebrow at her, further dizzying her feelings. “I did not mean to imply that.”

“Okay, Crow boy,” she smirked, opting to tease rather than reveal how uncomfortable she was making herself. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Unexpectedly, Lucanis proved an *excellent* listener. He followed her directions exactly as she explained how to measure out the proper amount of soap, and watched intently as she demonstrated washboard technique. Once he’d gotten the hang of it — it was a simple enough task, this was nearly immediately — they settled into a rhythm, and a companionable silence.

Naimeryn found she rather enjoyed his company. She supposed it could have been any of her companions, really; it was just nice to not have to be alone, even while doing something as mundane as washing clothes. He needn’t even have been helping. She supposed he could just have easily been reading a book or, she didn’t know, sharpening his knives. Just having him in the same space at the same time was… comforting.

Once the clothes were washed, she showed him how to hang things on the lines to ensure they dried completely — spread out, nothing overlapping. When they were done, she admired their handiwork and smiled at him with her hands on her hips.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” she teased.

“The credit all goes to my instructor,” he smirked. Naimeryn’s cheeks burned again, and she ducked her head.

“You were an attentive student.”

#dragon age the veilguard #fanfic #dragon age rook #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #my rook #rook #original character #Naimeryn Thorne #grey warden rook #grey wardens #grey warden origin #fanfic snippet #rook ask game #rook story time #darkspawn

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