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black-fist-order · 3 months ago

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This gentleman was a college professor in political science. He gives some intriguing insights here...

"Friends,

A political disaster such as what occurred Tuesday gains significance not simply by virtue of who won or lost, but through how the election is interpreted.

This is known as The Lesson of the election.

The Lesson explains what happened and why. It deciphers the public’s mood, values, and thoughts. It attributes credit and blame.

And therein lies its power. When The Lesson of the election becomes accepted wisdom — when most of the politicians, pundits, and politicians come to believe it — it shapes the future. It determines how parties, candidates, political operatives, and journalists approach future elections.

There are many reasons for what occurred on Tuesday and for what the outcome should teach America — about where the nation is and about what Democrats should do in the future.

Yet inevitably, one Lesson predominates.

Today, I want to share with you six conventional “lessons” you will hear for Tuesday’s outcome. None is or should be considered The Lesson of the 2024 election.

Then I’ll give you what I consider the real Lesson of the election.

None of these are The Lesson of the 2024 election:

1. "It was a total repudiation of the Democratic Party, a major realignment."

Rubbish. Harris would have won had there been a small, less than 1 percent vote shift in the three main battleground states. The biggest shift from 2020 and 2016 was among Latino men. We don’t know yet whether Latino men will return to the Democrats; if they don’t, they will contribute to a small realignment.

But the fact is America elected Trump in 2016, almost reelected him in 2020, and elected him again in 2024. We haven't changed much, at least in terms of whom we vote for.

2. "If the Dems want to win in the future, they have to move to the right. They should stop talking about 'democracy,' forget 'multiculturalism,' and end their focus on women’s rights, transgender rights, immigrants’ rights, voting rights, civil rights, and America’s shameful history of racism and genocide. Instead, push to strengthen families, cut taxes, allow school choice and prayer in public schools, reduce immigration, minimize our obligations abroad, and put America and Americans first."

Wrong. Democrats shouldn’t move to the right if that means giving up on democracy, social justice, civil rights, and equal voting rights. While Democrats might reconsider their use of “identity” politics (in which people are viewed primarily through the lenses of race, ethnicity, or gender), Democrats must not lose the moral ideals at the heart of the Party and at the core of America.

3. "Republicans won because of misinformation and right-wing propaganda. They won over young men because of a vicious alliance between Trump and a vast network of online influencers and podcasts appealing to them. The answer is for Democrats to cultivate an equivalent media ecosystem that rivals what the right has built."

Partly true. Misinformation and right-wing propaganda did play a role, particularly in reaching young men. But this hardly means progressives and Democrats should fill the information ecosystem with misinformation or left-wing propaganda. Better messaging, yes. Lies and bigotry, no.

We should use our power as consumers to boycott X and all advertisers on X and on Fox News, mount defamation and other lawsuits against platforms that foment hate, and push for regulations (at least at the state level for now) requiring that all platforms achieve minimum standards of moderation and decency.

4. "Republicans cheated. Trump, Putin, and election deniers at county and precinct levels engaged in a vast conspiracy to suppress votes."

I doubt it. Putin tried, but so far there’s no sign that the Kremlin affected any voting process. There is little or no evidence of widespread cheating by Republicans. Dems should not feed further conspiracy theories about fraudulent voting or tallying. For the most part, the system worked smoothly, and we owe a huge debt of gratitude to election workers and state officials in charge of the process.

5. "Harris ran a lousy campaign. She wasn’t a good communicator. She fudged and shifted her positions on issues. She was weighed down by Biden and didn’t sufficiently separate herself from him."

Untrue. Harris ran a good campaign, but she had only a little over three months to do it. She had to introduce herself to the nation (typically a vice president is almost invisible within an administration) at the same time Trump’s antics sucked most of the oxygen out of the political air. She could have been clearer about her proposals and policies and embraced economic populism (see below on the real lesson), but her debate with Trump was the best debate performance I’ve ever witnessed, and her speeches were pitch perfect. Biden may have weighed her down a bit, but his decision to step down was gracious and selfless.

6. "Racism and misogyny. Voters were simply not prepared to elect a Black female president."

Partly true. Surely racism and misogyny played a role, but bigotry can’t offer a full explanation.

Here’s the real Lesson of the 2024 election:

On Tuesday, according to exit polls, Americans voted mainly on the economy — and their votes reflected their class and level of education.

While the economy has improved over the last two years according to standard economic measures, most Americans without college degrees — that’s the majority — have not felt it.

In fact, most Americans without college degrees have not felt much economic improvement for four decades, and their jobs have grown less secure. The real median wage of the bottom 90 percent is stuck nearly where it was in the early 1990s, even though the economy is more than twice as large.

Most of the economy’s gains have gone to the top.

This has caused many Americans to feel frustrated and angry. Trump gave voice to that anger. Harris did not.

The real lesson of the 2024 election is that Democrats must not just give voice to the anger but also explain how record inequality has corrupted our system, and pledge to limit the political power of big corporations and the super-rich.

The basic bargain used to be that if you worked hard and played by the rules, you’d do better and your children would do even better than you.

But since 1980, that bargain has become a sham. The middle class has shrunk.

Why? While Republicans steadily cut taxes on the wealthy, Democrats abandoned the working class.

Democrats embraced NAFTA and lowered tariffs on Chinese goods. They deregulated finance and allowed Wall Street to become a high-stakes gambling casino. They let big corporations gain enough market power to keep prices (and profit margins) high.

They let corporations bust unions (with negligible penalties) and slash payrolls. They bailed out Wall Street when its gambling addiction threatened to blow up the entire economy but never bailed out homeowners who lost everything.

They welcomed big money into their campaigns — and delivered quid pro quos that rigged the market in favor of big corporations and the wealthy.

Joe Biden redirected the Democratic Party back toward its working-class roots, but many of the changes he catalyzed — more vigorous antitrust enforcement, stronger enforcement of labor laws, and major investments in manufacturing, infrastructure, semiconductors, and non-fossil fuels — wouldn’t be evident for years, and he could not communicate effectively about them.

The Republican Party says it’s on the side of working people, but its policies will hurt ordinary workers even more. Trump’s tariffs will drive up prices. His expected retreat from vigorous antitrust enforcement will allow giant corporations to drive up prices further.

If Republicans gain control over the House as well as the Senate, as looks likely, they will extend Trump’s 2017 tax law and add additional tax cuts. As in 2017, these lower taxes will benefit mainly the wealthy and enlarge the national debt, which will give Republicans an excuse to cut Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid — their objectives for decades.

Democrats must no longer do the bidding of big corporations and the wealthy. They must instead focus on winning back the working class.

They should demand paid family leave, Medicare for all, free public higher education, stronger unions, higher taxes on great wealth, and housing credits that will generate the biggest boom in residential home construction since World War II.

They should also demand that corporations share their profits with their workers. They should call for limits on CEO pay, eliminate all stock buybacks (as was the SEC rule before 1982), and reject corporate welfare (subsidies and tax credit to particular companies and industries unrelated to the common good).

Democrats need to tell Americans why their pay has been lousy for decades and their jobs less secure: not because of immigrants, liberals, people of color, the “deep state,” or any other Trump Republican bogeyman, but because of the power of large corporations and the rich to rig the market and siphon off most of the economy’s gains.

In doing this, Democrats need not turn their backs on democracy. Democracy goes hand-in-hand with a fair economy. Only by reducing the power of big money in our politics can America grow the middle class, reward hard work, and reaffirm the basic bargain at the heart of our system.

If the Trump Republicans gain control of the House, as seems likely, they will have complete control of the federal government. That means they will own whatever happens to the economy and will be responsible for whatever happens to America. Notwithstanding all their anti-establishment populist rhetoric, they will become the establishment.

The Democratic Party should use this inflection point to shift ground — from being the party of well-off college graduates, big corporations, “never-Tumpers” like Dick Cheney, and vacuous “centrism” — to an anti-establishment party ready to shake up the system on behalf of the vast majority of Americans.

This is and should be The Lesson of the 2024 election.

What do you think...?"

Robert Reich...

#us politics #politics #fuck trump #back the blue #kamala harris #maga morons #maga cult #fuck maga

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number-onekidqueen · 6 days ago

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pls do Sirius x reader to loml but make it not enough time instead of wrong time

𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓛𝓲𝓯𝓮

warnings: mentions of prison, death, alcohol, arguments, swearing, semi-cheating, a whole lot of angst.

wc: 8k

a/n: this is a long one, so i hope that makes up for how long this took to publish. i lowkey forgot what happened exactly with sirius, and all the department of mysteries so if it's inaccurate, my apologies.

It was an understatement to say you and Sirius had a history together.

You'd been in each other's orbit before then, sitting near each other once or twice and sending polite smiles, but everything truly started during fourth year, when the Yule Ball had been announced. Boys in each house began stressing, worrying about how to ask their would-be dates and how they might confess their feelings.

The marauders were not spared. While Remus had already asked a girl he was in a study group with - and she had accepted, luckily for him - he was overthinking ways it could go wrong and how the night could pan into a disaster.

Peter was a wreck, having ceased the little social contact he’d had with his potential date and attempting to change the subject whenever the topic would surface and she was within earshot.

Even James, at least sure in his choice of Lily as a date was anxious in ensuring the details of his proposal to her would be flawless, anxious to please her and praying she accepted.

It was worse than exams. Somehow, using natural talent and a bit of cheating, Sirius and James had always managed passing grades or above in most subjects when it came to getting results back after exam season.

But asking a girl out to the Yule Ball? You couldn’t cruise along easily, hoping for the best outcome. Girls were happy to go on all the Hogsmeade dates that they wanted with Sirius and have it be casual, but the second a ball came up, it all became sentimental to them and they wanted it to “mean something”.

And as irking as that was, it led Sirius to question whether he should take someone he actually liked too.

Which led him to a conundrum. Because when it came down to it, there simply weren’t many options of girls he actually liked, who he could talk to and have fun with.

Sure, there were a few girls in Slytherin that were acquaintances of his family and that were okay to have a chat to once in a while. But he didn’t want to get sucked into all that pureblood shit. It would be fulfilling his parents wishes if he did something like that, and he would be damned if he did anything remotely close to what they wanted.

And so he was left with two options.

The first was a Ravenclaw girl he was often paired up with in potions that tolerated his laidback often bordering on lazy attitude towards the subject. But he knew she’d already been asked and accepted, because he’d had to make the potion on his own the last lesson they’d had, as she’d been distracted, passing notes and giggling with a fellow Ravenclaw boy behind them.

Which left you. Y/N L/N. Friends with Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Mary, a fair few people. Your friend groups collided often, and he liked that while you enjoyed a laugh, you put James and him in their places when they got too cocky. It took guts to do that, and he respected that.

With the idea becoming more and more appealing, he decided to ask you.

The proposal was nothing special. He remembered from a conversation he’d overheard between you and Lily about nail polish that you liked burgundy. So he’d conjured three red roses in preparation, and ambled up to you in the library where you were studying, with the flowers thrust out.

You'd raised an eyebrow as he placed them beside your books, urging him to speak.

“Look, I know you probably think I’m an idiot. But I like you, and I have no date to the Yule Ball, and I think we could have a lot of fun, so I’d like to ask you to the ball.” He'd proposed.

It was strange. He’d been mostly nonchalant all day leading up to this event, but saying the words left a ball of tension in his throat. He waited with bated breath for your response. For some unknown reason, he knew it would hurt him if you said no.

“Yeah, okay, I’d be happy to come with you.” And you'd smiled at him, just a friendly quirk of the lips, and it made him wonder why he felt jittery afterwards, why he seemed to be in a daze when he left the library after.

The Yule Ball was a success. Sort of.

Remus and his date, Linda, seemed to have a lovely time all night. Peter managed to say a few words to his date every now and then. And Lily had rejected James’ offer, but between both their friend groups, they’d ended up having a single dance together, right towards the end of the night, which James was still rambling about a week and a half later. And as for Sirius, it had been easier than falling asleep to enjoy himself.

He was stunned at first, when you walked down the stairs with the other girls. All of them looked glamorous and attractive, but it still seemed as if you were the star among stones when you stepped out amongst them. The colour of your gown seemed to bring out different shades in your eyes, and the right tones in your skin, or whatever it was supposed to do. He didn’t really know what it was, couldn't put a finger on what made you look so gorgeous, the only thing he knew is that you did.

And suddenly it was intimidating. With every step of yours closer to him and quiet click of your heels, his mind began to race more, and he felt insecure, worried his hair wasn’t neat enough, that perhaps he’d missed the sneaky patch of bristle under the dip of his jaw-

But you’d smiled and laughed once you approached him, and immediately struck up a conversation. It was like that all night - talking, dancing, drinking, eating. Fun and easy.

He'd been to so many balls in his life, used to the impressive and dainty decorations, the fine food and all the dramatic events that occurred. It was just another night to him, but he soon discovered that to you it wasn't.

This was your first ball, and you knew nothing of them. And despite hating them for as long as he could remember, there was something fun about seeing the wonder in your eyes as you took everything in, correcting your occasionally awkward dance movements and advising you on what to eat and what not. All these seemingly useless skills he'd acquired could finally be put to use, and help make you happy. And so it was a pleasant night, teaching you everything there was to know about balls, and sharing new experiences.

Until it wasn't. He hadn’t been aware, but the last song of the ball was slow and heartfelt. Out on the dance floor, still laughing together, the pair of you had been caught up in the tune, following the music as you waltzed and swirled and stepped. And as he’d dipped you, he’d felt a spark in his stomach, as if he’d touched a live wire.

You'd exhaled softly as he gripped the small of your back, and the nervous gesture had cast his eyes onto your lips. Pink, glossed lips. The music seemed to go silent, and all there was were the shared breaths between you as he found himself leaning forward, inch by inch and wanting more, wanting to feel their softness with his own lips. And a rapid glance at your eyes revealed what he felt, a shy but desperate urge to get closer, to explore what hadn't been felt-

The moment had been disrupted when James had bumped into the pair of you, pushing you away from a girl who was hunched over and retching on the floor.

It hit him all at once, when you immediately left his side to hurry over to the poor girl, some Hufflepuff you knew from Herbology. You were good, kind - an amazing girl really. The kind of girl to fearlessly help another girl in need, even if you weren't good friends, even if it was embarrassing. What did he have to offer you? He toyed with girl's feelings, organised pranks on Slytherins and cheated on tests. He wasn't good. He wasn't worthy of you. What in Merlin's name was he doing? No, he couldn't do this.

He walked up to your crouched form beside the Hufflepuff girl, patting you gently on the shoulder, before he walked away, offering a brief goodbye as he headed for his dormitory.

He knew he’d fucked up the next week. The day after the ball, you’d wanted to talk to him, about what had almost happened, about where the pair of you stood. He could feel it when you glanced over at him in classes, when you quickened to his pace when you spotted him walking around the castle.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. If he even felt the things he felt, which he still wasn't completely sure of, he knew he wasn’t good for you at all. His family, his status, his reputation. Sirius and Black would forever be entwined inevitably, and you detested everything the Blacks stood for. And at his core, he knew he was the exact opposite of you, in all the worst ways. It just wouldn’t work.

He tried to tell himself that when he dodged your eyes and exclamations to him, and when he avoided you in the corridors between lessons.

He tried to believe it when he saw your face fall in hurt, saw you and your entire friend group begin to look at him in disdain.

He tried to reassure himself when he lay in bed awake, long after James had began snoring, and wondered what could’ve been if that chick hadn’t puked her guts out.

You weren’t good friends after that at all. Your whole relationship seemed to have been tossed into flames. He realised the extent of that, when he casually slid into a seat beside you in Charms a few months later and you up and left immediately. To sit beside a Slytherin.

For the rest of fourth year, your relationship was frosty at best between you both. He tried to be back in your orbit, and you pushed him out, often obviously. It always made him a little upset, even if he rolled his eyes at your passive aggressive antics in public. He'd still wanted to be your friend, even if he knew he couldn't be more than that for your sake.

He was pleased that by the end of seventh year, he at least had a civil relationship with you. You tolerated him, you were polite to him, and sometimes you even let out a short chuckle at his jokes. He loved it when you did.

It was when you both joined the Order after graduation that he truly began talking to you again and trying to reform the relationship. And it had appeared to be working.

He was different now, more knowing of himself and his personality than his teen self had been. And he knew now that while he wasn't perfect back then and he certainly wasn't now, you had been worth the risk. You had been worth all the differences between the pair of you and all the changes he would've had to have made. And you still were.

But that was when bloody Craig entered the scene.

Sirius couldn’t believe of all the blokes out there, you’d chosen to date him. You weren’t just attractive to him, you were seriously beautiful. In his opinion, you probably could’ve dated a prince or Oscar-winning actor with your looks and your personality, and you'd chosen him?!

Craig was… Merlin's beard, where did he even start? He’d been a stuffy Ravenclaw guy in the year above the both of you. And could you believe it, after seven years at Hogwarts and getting cracking marks in most subjects, what did he do with his credentials? He was a muggle television technician or something. Sirius still didn't really understand what he did exactly, but he'd been seriously disappointed when he found out. What?!

What was worst of all was Sirius knew that secretly, you didn’t like him. He’d be invited for Order dinners, and call you sweetie, give you a wet kiss on the cheek, and Sirius would see your eyes twitch, just slightly, your smile tighten. He’d speak of image quality and specific cords, and Sirius would see you roll your lips inward and look away, the way you always did when you were embarrassed or uncomfortable.

It pissed him off, frankly. If he were dating you, he wouldn’t be talking about bloody televisions. He’d be talking about what you liked, what you were interested in, and trying to crack jokes that would make you laugh, even just a little bit. He'd include you in every conversation, instead of interrupting you mid-sentence to go on tangents about muggle 'technology', whatever that was. He'd kiss you privately, the way he knew you liked, and not blatantly ignore your discomfort and embarrassment at public affection.

When he'd seen your subtle grimace for the fourth time that night, he decided to pour himself another glass of wine, and perhaps a generous one at that. He was going to need it.

Walking into the kitchen, he debated between Merlot and Pinot Noir before choosing the latter option. If this continued, (which he was sure it would) he didn't want to be sober, and he didn't want to remember it at all.

"Do you mind pouring me a glass?"

At your soft question, Sirius nearly dropped his glass in surprise. Spinning around, he faced you and immediately noticed the expression of discomfort on your face, the way your cheeks were coloured and eyes troubled.

Playing it casually, he hummed affirmatively in response, reaching up to get a glass, and beginning to pour the deep red liquid into your glass.

"Oh, woo- that's enough." You chuckled, pulling the glass by its stem to avoid it from filling further. "I don't want to get completely written off."

You laughed and Sirius joined in, although the sound was hollow and fake, even to his own ears.

Frowning, you took a small sip from your glass and tilted your head. "Sirius, what's wrong? I don't mean to be rude, but I feel like you've kind of been off all night."

"I'm fine," he responded tightly, putting the wine back in its place and making to head past you, "there's nothing wrong."

Your hand, small but firm, stopped him on his way past, gripping his bicep. He turned, seeing your look of disbelief and something akin to concern. "Come on. Don't pull this shit with me. I know... we're not friends like we were, but I feel like I know you well enough to know that something's wrong. Just- please tell me."

All right, he thought to himself, I hate that we're not friends anymore, or more than that. I hate your boyfriend. I hate that you hate your boyfriend. I hate myself-

"Fine, tell me nothing," you spoke angrily, when enough time had lapsed that it was clear he wouldn't be speaking, "Hide behind lies, like you always do, Black. But just know, one day the truth might help you. Might save you!"

And just like that he was furious. Because how could you come to him and start preaching of telling the truth and not hiding behind falsehoods like some saint, when your current life was a lie?!

“Right, well if you want me to tell the truth, I will then," He spat bitterly, shaking his arm from your grip, "You don’t-you don’t even like him at all, do you?”

You froze, your eyes narrowing. “What?”

“It’s obvious. Craig! You think he’s a total loser. And he is!”

“Sirius, what the hell?! Just because he’s not in a magic career-“

“It’s not just that," Sirius said, shaking his head, and absolutely bewildered that you were defending him, "He’s a television technician for God’s sake. And he actually enjoys it, and finds it interesting!”

“And what's wrong with that, Sirius?!" You retorted, eyes flashing, and even though you were angry with him, some deeper part within him cheered as you stepped closer, as you brought your nose to his, "Merlin, not everyone finds parading around and pretending to be some magic soldier entertaining!"

"Oh, but you do?" He challenged, and for the way you stuttered for words, he knew that he'd won in a way.

"You... and I- we're very different. In the way we are, in the way we do our jobs, in everything."

"Fine. But d'you you know who's even more different to you? Fucking Craig! Just admit it! You don't love him, you don't even like him!"

"Craig is nice though," you defended, "he makes me feel safe and-"

"Safe? Safe?! Y/N, I know you might've forgotten that poem you loved in fourth year - but I haven't - and I'm pretty sure the line you liked most literally read 'I'd prefer to be starry-eyed rather than safe', and you talked to me for hours about it, because you agreed with it on so many levels, and you wanted to find a love that felt like that," He exhaled, suddenly feeling exhausted, "I-I know you've changed a lot since then. But if you're anything like who you were then, do you really think that Craig makes you feel starry-eyed?"

There was a long, quiet pause. In the dining room, the sounds of Lily laughing at James' joke echoed through to the kitchen. Then-

"No," you whispered.

And then-

"To be honest, only one person ever made me feel starry-eyed."

Sirius felt as if he were about to topple over from the impact of that sentence, as if he was back on his broom in a gruelling match of Quidditch and the quaffle had socked him in the ribs. He held his breath, his eyes searching yours as he prayed you'd continue, prayed you'd say the words his soul craved.

"Yeah?" His voice was croaky, scratchy, but it was as if his vocal cords had stopped functioning.

"Yeah," you breathed, and he wasn't sure whether it was he or you who moved first, but in an instant you were meeting in the middle, skidding on the cold tiles, and your lips were colliding. They were cool and soft, and coated in lip gloss that tasted sweet, and that he was sure would coat his mouth after this encounter. It was better than anything he'd ever guiltily dreamed of, and just thinking about for how long he'd yearned for this made his head spin. He wrapped his arms around your waist to distract himself from those thoughts, groaning from the warmth of your skin beneath the soft wool, so caught up in everything that he only noticed that your wine glass had slipped from your hand and crashed to the floor when your lips stopped on his, breathy and tense.

"Oh, shit. Sirius-"

"Don't care. I'll clean it up later." And he drew you back in, this time caressing your chin and neck, and twisting his fingers through the softness of your hair. It was you who let out a groan then, and then another as he began to trail warm kisses down your throat. And-and it was all that you wanted, but you knew you'd spent a suspicious amount of time as it was in the kitchen, and that soon someone would come to fetch the pair of you. And so, as much as your body screamed in argument, you should stop.

"We-we should-" you murmured, tilting slightly away from his lips which had reached the curve of your shoulder.

"Mm, no. We shouldn't." It was short and decided, which made you laugh lightly.

"They'll see us... and, well-"

"Let them."

But despite his words, even he knew the time had come to venture back into the dining room, before you attracted an audience.

Pulling away, he gave you a long glance that seemed to sear to your very bones before he gave you a final soft peck and retreated. "To be continued," he whispered with a grin, before squeezing your hand and reaching for a new wine glass for you.

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

The night seemed to progress in a way that reminded you of the fast-forward control Craig had shown you on a television, when the show continued twice or thrice as fast in order to get to the part one was up to quicker.

Dinner was over in a heartbeat, with dessert rolling out soon after you and Sirius had returned to the dining room, and everyone only staying for a half hour or so after that before succumbing to their fatigue or intoxication and heading home.

As you'd hugged Sirius goodbye, you'd whispered 'see you soon', and he'd been more than a bit confused, an eyebrow raising as he probed you with a glance for more information. But you'd just smiled at him before apparating away with Craig.

And from there it was easy.

He'd showered, and you'd sat on the sofa twisting your hands about, wondering how you were going to phrase what you'd needed to say. And when he'd come out, hair wet and on his way out to his own apartment, you stood, and you said what you could. Most of it was measly from your it's-not-you-it's-me explanation, to your utterly decided mind that the relationship was over.

But he'd taken it well. In fact, he'd practically shrugged, said something about how he was sure some girl called Grace working at his office would go on a date with him, wished you a good night, and left. It left you so dumfounded you sat on the arm of the sofa for a good few minutes after, simply collecting your thoughts.

And then you left your apartment too.

Back in the kitchen in Sirius' apartment, you wasted no time in making your way to his room, not pausing before opening the door and rushing in, blurting, "I broke up with him."

He was surprised for a moment, sat on his bed, before he rose and walked over to you, tugging you down to sit on his lap. "Couldn't waste another second without me, could you?"

"Oh, shut up, I just didn't want you going to bed sobbing." You teased, shifting from his lap to lie down on his bed, your legs still splaying over his thighs.

"Well you've absolutely saved me the tears. Now I'll be going to bed in a completely different mood," and he smirked as he ducked down to kiss you deeply, before breaking apart with concern in his eyes.

"Did he take it well?"

"Did he ever," you snorted, settling deeper into his pillow, and inhaling the scent that surrounded the bed - the scent of him -, "I'd barely closed my mouth and he was talking about some girl at his office and how he'd be fine."

"Of course he was," Sirius scoffed, scowling at the roof at the thought of discarding you so easily for someone else.

"But let's not talk about him," you complained, raising yourself up only so you could tug him down so he lay beside you.

"Oh, you want to talk about how you're starry-eyed for me?"

"Wanker," you mumbled in embarrassment, as you buried your face into the pillow.

"Princess, don't be ashamed," he said gently, taking your face into his hands so you could meet his eyes. And as riddled with mirth as they were, there was also something deeply profound in them as he said, "I'm also completely starry-eyed for you too."

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

The news came late in the night, as bad news always does.

At first you'd been rather irritated as you felt the bed shift and Sirius slip out, even if you were accustomed to it.

You'd made him promise to tone down his midnight meetings and all the dangerous missions he went on with the Order, begging him to not be involved in it over this weekend when you were supposed to be celebrating your engagement, but you supposed he couldn't necessarily ignore the shrill and desperate shrieks of an owl.

Still, you groaned when you heard him curse, heard him pull his clothes on in a hurry and rush down the stairs. And you were positively pissed when you heard the deep roar of his motorcycle start, and the rush as it zoomed off, as he left you.

What the fuck is going on? you thought to yourself as you rolled out of bed, and stumbled to where he'd left the letter.

Sirius,

Someone spilled it. He's coming for them.

-- Wormtail

No.

No, it couldn't be. You rubbed your eyes, blinked until you saw stars, trying to see anything other than the messy scrawl in front of you.

A desperate need overtook you, much like what you were sure had rushed through Sirius once he'd read the letter from Peter. You needed to help Lily and James, and poor, sweet baby Harry. You couldn't let them- but no, you refused to think of that.

But quickly, you realised there wasn't much you could do. Much like the Potters, most members of the Order had strong spells in place that didn't allow you to apparate to and from their houses, due to some leaks that had resulted in house invasions. And Sirius had taken the motorcycle, which is what the pair of you used to travel from place to place, if you didn't use the bus.

So, unless you walked - which you certainly were not going to do at this hour - there was no way you could make it to Godric's Hollow in time, no way you could help anyone.

The anguish overtook you then, and you couldn't help but cry in the horror of it all. This was supposed to be your engagement weekend with Sirius, something romantic and quiet that you had both longed for after all the dangers of being in the Order. You weren't supposed to be fearing for the lives of your closest friends, of their baby boy - and especially not your fiancé.

The hours trickled by slowly, and you weren't sure how you survived, with the way you paced agonisingly and repeatedly, shook heavily, and wept until your body went numb.

The daylight came and went, and when your watch told you that it was ten o'clock you knew something bad had happened. If things had gone well, Sirius would have been back by now. Which meant-

Getting changed into his old quidditch jersey for comfort, and a pair of jeans, you finally headed downstairs and stepped outside and into the street.

It was a normal late morning in London, with people getting on and off buses, and sitting on benches and reading the paper. But you knew in the muggle streets of London, you would get no answers to the questions you desperately needed answering, and so you rushed into action, hopping onto the approaching bus and beginning your short trip to the Leaky Cauldron.

Even at the early hour, it was bustling with patrons. Which only happened when there were things to talk about. You took this as a bad sign, but swallowing heavily, you pushed through them to get into Diagon Alley, and that was when you stepped into complete chaos.

"Get yer Prophet! Read all 'bout it! Mass murder in Godric's Hollow!" A paper seller shouted into the crowd of people.

There were groups of people standing about, with newspapers in hands and horrified expressions all around as they read what had occurred and friends read over their shoulders. Your stomach sank further as you approached the seller, bending down to pick up a paper someone had discarded in disgust on the cobbles.

AUROR COUPLE FOUND DEAD AT HOME, THEIR BABY SOLE SURVIVOR

James and Lily Potter, prominent members of the Auror community were found dead in their cottage at Godrics Hollow late last night, with only their baby boy Harry surviving the encounter that is believed to be another attack by You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters.

But unlike other Auror deaths that seem similar in nature to this double-homicide, this awful story has another horrifying twist. Friend of the Potter's, Peter Pettigrew, was found later on this morning in a London alley, where he was seemingly trying to catch the mole within the Aurors who caused this tragedy before he was brutally-

"Murdered at the hands of Sirius Black!" The seller crowed once more, "a death eater disguised as an Auror!"

You felt like you might vomit. Or faint. What?! None of what they were saying could be true. James? Lily? Dead? No, that couldn't possibly have happened.

And Sirius? You knew him, you loved him. You couldn't even fathom how someone could even have begun spreading this story of misinformation.

Courage and outrage growing within you, you stormed to the seller, calling, "You've got it wrong. Sirius Black isn't a death eater!"

You didn't care about the stares and attention you got at your bold words, at how murmurs began to spread as people looked at the golden surname stitched on the back of the red jersey you were wearing and connected the dots.

"Lovie, I'm afraid he is. Caught redhanded and everythin'," the seller explained, somewhat sympathetically, as she pointed at the front cover of the Daily Prophet. At the scowling mugshot of Sirius, whose face was sprayed in dark droplets.

No. No. But what was worse was the haunted look in his eyes, the utter pain you could see radiating from his pupils, even in the shaky, monochromatic image.

"Look, I get it's hard to come to terms with, especially if he's ya boyfriend. I knew someone who was a death eater too, and bloody hell was that a hard one to swallow! But lovie, just accept it and everythin'll be easier on ya." She soothed, giving you a ginger pat on your shoulder.

But you stepped away from her sharply. "No, this isn't true, and I'll prove it!"

And you ran and ran and ran. You didn't hear as people began to point you out, recognising you as the girlfriend of that murderer, jeer rude words at you, or even spit at you. You had tunnel vision, only thinking of your destination, which was the Ministry of Magic, and you wouldn't rest until you saw that cherry red telephone box, and until it was transporting you into the depths that were the Ministry.

Your legs began to ache, muscles screaming in protest at the ruthless pace you were sprinting at, but you refused to slow down, not when everyone in the world had got it so wrong and they were going to hurt Sirius. It couldn't be him, you simply didn't believe it at all.

The Ministry was a blur of people, colours and sounds as you pushed through crowds of people in suits, desperate to get to the desk clerk you glimpsed in the distance and ready to fall to your knees and beg to be given an audience with Sirius.

Eventually, you made it to her bench, and began breathing heavily as you faced her. "Please," you panted, as you tried to regain your rapidly escaping breath, "I don't know where he is... what's happened- but... I need to see Sirius Black, now, please-"

"Sirius Black?" The girl asked incredulously, halting her relentless gum chewing to gape at you.

"Yes, he-he... I'm afraid something terrible has happened and he's been framed... I need to sort it all out."

"Look, miss, I can't deny the bloke looks half decent," she proclaimed, leaning forward as she began to whisper the latter half of her sentence, "but he murdered some fella! And it wasn't any clean curse too, you hear? I've got an Auror friend and he said the entire road was coated in blood, Black blew the bloke up and-"

"No, no, I refuse to believe that," you rebutted desperately, "I know him, and this isn't about the fact he looks handsome, for Merlin's sake. Just-just tell me what floor he's on, please? Tell me how to access it?"

The clerk girl pursed her lips, seemingly torn before gesturing to a nearby elevator with her head and saying, "8 should be him."

Calling your thanks back at her, you strode away, dashing to make it to the elevator before the doors closed, when you heard shouts behind you.

"Y/N L/N! L/N, stop where you are!"

Obeying the voice, you swivelled your head to see three Ministry guards with their wands out, briskly making their way over and a crowd of officials following them.

"We've obtained knowledge from a source that you have a certain relationship with a recently detained Sirius Black. Would that be correct?" A guard questioned, now facing you.

"Yes," you breathed, scared suddenly.

"Well, Miss L/N, I'm going to assume that you have heard this morning's tragic news and understand the repercussions," An official interjected, once he had made his way over to face her as well, "The Ministry does not take situations like this lightly. In a reflection of that, the trial of Sirius Black is to begin in a half hour."

You couldn't even question the words leaving his mouth as any semblance of language had disappeared from your mind. You couldn't even begin to understand how this could be possible. You wanted so desperately to wake up, but you could feel the way your palms were sweating, and hear the ticking of the Ministry clock. This was not a nightmare, but reality.

"Now, obviously we cannot allow you to be a witness, as to our knowledge you were not part of last night's events, and we cannot allow you to be a part of the jury, as I think it would be safe to say you are far from impartial to Mr Black. However, what we can offer you is a seat in the viewing gallery when a verdict is reached, and a ten minute time frame with him before your trial, given your close circumstance with him. I trust you will be grateful for this and take advantage of this generous opportunity we've presented you."

And all you could say was, "Yes."

You suppose it was the shock that had set in at that point. At least, that's what the catering lady suspected when she spotted your shaking form in the court break room fifteen minutes later. You couldn't really remember how you had got down there, what path you had taken and who had taken you. Even after a mug of steaming tea and two buttery biscuits, your shaking would not subside, and your mind remained blank. But then-

"Miss Y/N, you will now see Mr Black if you have no objections." The offical called, and you felt rather than heard the doors open, as you stumbled to your feet.

It was as if all of your emotions flooded back into your body, all at once, as your eyes locked with his. The numbing shock faded away as quickly as it had drenched you, and in its wake was a suffocating number of emotions. You felt like you could begin bawling, yelling and smiling all at once as he was brought closer and closer to you by the guards restraining either side of him.

You decided fate was a cruel thing then, as the guards finally let go of his form, and he dashed the final steps to sweep you into his arms. Because the deja vu was not lost on you, of his suit and tie, and his shocked face as you walked towards him, his actions mirroring those of his ones at the Yule Ball all those years ago.

But you quickly forgot your thoughts of deja vu and fate, when you felt his own body quake with restrained sobs, felt his tight grip of you begin to suffocate you. Just as swiftly as he had embraced you however, he pulled away, his fingers staying interlocked with yours as his face took on a pleading expression.

"You don't believe them, do you?" He asked, and your heart broke to think that he'd considered you'd be against him. "I- princess, I don't know how I can make you believe me, but-but, I promise I didn't do it-I didn't-"

You kissed him then, deeply, passionately and hoping to convey all your love through your lips, if that was even possible. He seemed stunned at first, his lips still, before he responded with a fervour that almost made you smile.

"Of course I believe you," you whispered against his lips, when you both had to pull apart to catch your breath, "Sirius, you... you could never have done something like this. Of course not."

Your heart squeezed painfully once more at the broken, haunted look in his eyes, as he glanced away, anywhere but your own eyes. "It was-it was awful-I-I....," he exhaled slowly and shakily before his eyes met yours once more, "My- James is dead, and so is Lily, and I couldn't save them, Y/N. Do you know how fucking hard I accelerated, God, I thought I was going to crash into about fifteen cars and then maybe a few birds. And-and, it was all for nothing, because-" he closed his eyes, and the pain was tangible in the way he winced, "and Merlin, I don't even know what happened to Harry because not a soul will tell me anything and I'm going wild in that cell down there, because the-the bloody people down there with me-they-they howl and they scream in pain, and when they don't it's just me and the darkness, and-Merlin- I don't know how long I can deal with it-"

He buried his face into your shoulder, and when you felt wet warmth on your shoulder, you began to cry too, squeezing him tighter, because you knew that was the only way you could reassure him. "Sirius, I-I-I don't know how, but-I'll get you out of there, I will... you'll be home with me before you know it, and-"

"All right. Mr Black, Miss L/N. That concludes your session. Your trial will begin shortly."

Everything was urgent at once. Sirius pulled back from you, and the desperation in his eyes matched his tone, as he said, "Whatever happens, it happens. Just know, that I love you. I love you so much, and you are the love of my life, even with whatever ends up happening to it."

You didn't have time to say it back before he pulled you into a kiss that rivalled any others you'd ever had. You tried to memorise the feel of it all: of his arms, and the way he held you like you were the finest piece of jewellery in the world; the way his mouth felt and moved, scalding and desperate and unrelenting; and his hands, the way his fingers trailed up and down your spine and curled into your hair. It was over too quickly, and then he was being pulled away from you, and the world was hazy and blurry because your eyes were furiously streaming with tears of utter anguish. You didn't see the significant look from the officials to the catering lady, as your shaking began again. In fact, you were so distraught, that you didn't even notice the white powder she sprinkled into the tea she offered you soon after, and the realisation only sank in when your body felt leaden and you slumped to the floor, your eyes fluttering shut.

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

You thought again of the cruelty of fate when you mistook the catering lady for Sirius shaking you awake.

"Sirius," you mumbled grumpily, rolling away from the hands that shook you, "If you want me to see the bloody sunrise so much, just take a Polaroid of it, why don't you?"

But what followed wasn't a lighthearted argument or tickling kisses on your neck to wake you up, but a gentle, wary voice.

"Love, I think you'll want to wake up for this."

And then you remembered.

In a flash, you were on your feet, turning to her and asking, "Where?"

At the sight of the court room, your stomach bottomed out. Sirius was standing, his back to you and handcuffed, with an officer at either side. As you shuffled into your seat, your eyes remained on his form and barely noted as a member of the jury stepped up to the front.

"We, the jury find Sirius Orion Black guilty of all charges against him."

The banging of the gavel, was in rhythm with bile rising in your throat. And then- and then the other viewers around you in the gallery, the motherfuckers had the nerve to clap. Some cheered. You were at a serious risk of vomiting.

"With that verdict, the Ministry of Magic hence sentences Sirius Orion Black to life in the Prison of Azkaban."

Godric, you actually were going to throw your guts up. This couldn't be possible. You gazed at Sirius' back, wondering how he had not collapsed at the weight of the words they had just said, at what they meant for him and his future. He simply stayed standing, his back straight, his posture firm, as he turned to you.

It had to be fifteen metres between you and he, but you could see the heavy tears in his eyes, see the way his lips were tense as he opened them to mouth 'I love you'. You mouthed them back, just as he was tugged away, and as soon as you burst through the side door, you did vomit.

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

To the loml,

I'm not going to lie to you. Anyone who thinks hell is not on Earth has not visited Azkaban. It's dark, it's cold, it's always, always storming and the prisoners deserve to be here. They're all bloody lunatics, and since I thought the crazies in the Ministry cells were bad, I got one hell of a shock coming here.

But I get through it. Some days, I feel like I want to find a way to squeeze through the bars and impale myself on the rocks below, but that's just because I can't stop hearing them, seeing them. I don't think I can ever forget seeing James and Lily like that, and hearing those muggles scream as Peter blew them up.

You get me through it. And I know you'll think that I'm being all sappy to distract you from the dark shit I told you about before, but princess, it's true, I promise. On days like the ones I was writing about, I just think of you, and it starts to get better. I think a lot about that night you dumped that absolute tosser Craig and came home to me. What a night. And it gets me through hearing the rats in my cell and all the nightmares I get.

But enough about me, what have you been up to? I do hope Kreacher has been treating you well, or I'll find some way to beat his wrinkled arse from here.

With all my love,

yours, Sirius.

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You didn't heed the rumours at first.

There'd been many, over the years, and while the first few times, you'd hoped and believed with all of your heart that he had in fact escaped, it hurt you too much to try and believe in rumours of his escape, as each time without fail, the truth came crashing down on you like an avalanche.

It was only when you saw him with your own two eyes that you would believe the rumours.

The night began like any other Saturday night, which was one in which you would indulge yourself with thinking about Sirius and remembering him. You dragged out your cassette player from the cupboard and while you cooked dinner you would listen to the many, many mixtapes that you and Sirius had created for each other.

You were halfway through boiling the pasta, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon as you absentmindedly sang that gushy Cher song that you loved and that you knew even Sirius had a soft spot for.

If I could turn back time,

If I could find a way-

"If I could turn back time, I'd have never got out of that bed next to you."

The wooden spoon clattered to the floor beside you, and you inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice you knew all too well. Could it be- was that even possible?

Ever so slowly, you turned your head, prepared to see the empty dining room, prepared to have finally gone mad and to have your mind playing awful tricks on you.

And yet, there he was.

It had been twelve years since you'd seen him, and you could see what the time had done to him. His hair, once silky and reaching his chin, was longer now, and more matted and rough. He had scruff on his face, like the beginnings of a beard and moustache. And under that, you could see faint lines on his face, where his age really had caught up with him.

But he was still your Sirius; you could still see the equal amounts of depth and amusement in his eyes, even if you could also see pain that hadn't been there before.

And-and somehow, he'd come home to you.

Your hands reached forward to touch him, as he stepped closer, but even with your innate desire to fling yourself onto him and never let go, stronger was your curiosity, your disbelief.

"H-how-what?" you stuttered, tears flooding your eyes, as he picked you up as easily as if you were a feather and put you on the bench top, standing between your legs.

"That, princess," he replied, in between kissing you all over, rapidly, softly, "is a long, complicated story. And-"

"You don't have to tell me right now," you murmured, beaming at him, almost high on the fact that he was back, that he was touching her. A roar of triumph echoed through your head as he sent you his signature grin.

"My thoughts exactly. We have more important things to do."

And you and Sirius carried out those important tasks dutifully and enthusiastically, only stopping abruptly when you discovered the pasta pot was boiling over.

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

"I'm going to the Ministry on Order business. Be back soon, princess," Sirius whispered, as he pressed a kiss to your brow, ignoring your groans of protest as he slipped from the bed.

Yes, Sirius Black still had a rather bad habit of leaving you in the middle of the night to partake in Order business.

The first few times he'd done this, you'd had arguments after, because obviously, after what had happened the last time he'd slipped out after midnight, you were scared stiff when you couldn't contact him, or if he came home late.

But after many, many more escapades, and two joyous years of safety, of him returning after a few hours, you'd begrudging relented on scolding him for the nasty habit. For as much as you still felt a large twinge of anxiety for every minute that ticked over sunrise when he still hadn't returned, he always did, in the end. And you knew that as much as you hated it, Sirius was an integral part of the Order, and he had to do what he had to do.

But tonight somehow felt different. Because for as much as you tossed and turned, and told yourself over and over that Sirius would be fine, the little voice inside your head would not be silenced, and it accompanied a feeling of sickness, deep in your stomach.

Cursing as you rose, you swiftly put on a comfortable and practical outfit before you left the house, venturing a few steps from the doorway before you apparated to the the telephone box that would lead you in to the Ministry.

The memories coming back to you did not help soothe your rapidly rising nerves, and neither did the dark, deserted Ministry that you found before you from your wand glow.

Your trepidation only grew when you found broken glass, and obvious signs of a scuffle. There had been a fight here, and recently. What in the name of Merlin was going on?

You were about to say that aloud when Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared beside you, and grabbed your arm, pulling you with him towards an elevator.

"Come on, we must go. They're in the Department of Mysteries." He explained, as he punched in the appropriate floor.

"What? The Order?" You asked, bewildered, as the elevator travelled at its dangerously rapid speed, "why?"

"The kids, you know - Harry, his lot, a few others - they found some death eaters down there and they've been trying to fend them off while the Order get here."

"Shit. Is everyone okay?"

"Well," he turned to face you, looking grim, as a cheery ding alerted you to the fact the elevator was stopping at the selected floor, "we have no way of knowing, but if You-know-who is involved as well as his death eaters, we have to expect the worst."

Expect the worst. You were all too familiar with the worst outcomes of a situation, and images of piles of dead, bloody bodies and Sirius being crucio'd flashed in your mind as you kept up with Kingsley's pace, racing down the corridor to the end door which was slightly ajar.

Inside was a wreck. While you'd never been inside before this moment, you'd heard that the Department of Mysteries was like an orderly maze of wonder, full of shelves that reached the roof groaning with the weight of luminescent orbs and other weird and wacky wonders.

But what was facing you now was nothing like what you had envisioned. There was only wreckage; splintered wood, and piles of glowing shards of glass littered everywhere the eye could see. Further on, you could see dark figures and flashes of green and red as fighting ensued.

Soon enough, you could make out a few familiar faces: Tonks with her fierce expressions and brightly-dyed hair; Remus with his nose streaming red, but arm still firm and strong as he hexed his opponent; Ginny, with her red hair streaming about as she ducked and dived from the many hexes death eaters were shooting at her.

But no Sirius.

You jogged further in, edging into the fight as well, and beginning to hex and curse death eaters in your midst, and those who challenged other Order members who you could reach. All the while, your eyes darted about, longing to see even a glimpse of long, dark hair, that would tell you that Sirius was safe.

But it wasn't his hair that made you notice him; no, it was his voice.

"Nice one, James," He'd called, and you could see that he was grinning with pride at his godson, Harry reflecting the expression, as he ducked from another hex shot at him.

And then the world seemed to go in slow motion.

Because there was Bellatrix - that utter bitch - her face twisted in psychopathic rage as always, as a flash of green erupted from her wand. And you could do nothing but watch, as it sailed through the air, and-

-hit Sirius squarely in the chest.

At once, he was stumbling backwards, and you weren't sure why, but Harry was screaming at this, struggling so hard that Remus had to restrain him, as he began to fall towards a shimmering mirror.

You caught his gaze then, as his hand seemingly went through the mirror. And to add to your confusion, his eyes were somber, the way they only were when something tragic and awful had happened. 'I love you' he mouthed, but you didn't have time to say it back, didn't even have time to react, because-

-then he was gone.

"NO!"

You weren't sure if it was you or Harry who'd screamed that, but you couldn't breathe as you heard Bellatrix laugh maniacally, beginning to taunt Harry. And while Harry was restrained, you weren't.

And if-if she had actually-If Sirius was actually gone, you would not rest until you wiped that evil smirk off her face permanently.

You were certain it was you, when you began charging towards her, screaming bloody murder and death threats at her. Because you weren't just going to let her die, no you were going to make her bleed, and hurt, and scream in pain before you gave her the honour of dying.

Your efforts were stopped by Kingsley however, who grabbed you by the shoulders and dragged you away from the scene, even when you struggled as furiously as Harry had, and began to scream at him. It didn't help anything, as he wrapped both arms around you and apparated away to the top floor of the Ministry. It was only then he released you.

"Kingsley, what the fuck?! How could you?!" You screeched, swivelling towards him and barely restraining the urge to slap him.

"Y/N, you need to calm down," he soothed, rubbing your shoulder, "I know you're upset, I'm upset too. But it wouldn't have solved anything at all if you did that, I can promise-"

"No, you can't promise me anything!" You yelled back, tearing backwards so his hand fell to his side, "How do you know I couldn't have disarmed her? Couldn't have forced her to get him back?"

"I can promise you that," he said slowly, enunciating every word carefully as if it were a statement of high importance, "because you can't come back from that mirror, Y/N. Sirius is gone, and if you went after Bellatrix, you would've followed right behind him."

A world without Sirius, where you couldn't bring him back to you had been unbearable the first time. But this time, you realised, as you fell backwards, as you fainted, there wasn't even a human possibility that you could get Sirius back.

He was gone.

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The letters were your prized possession.

You kept them in a box in the cupboard, right next to the cassette player. And after a few months, when thinking about him didn't cause you to go into states of inconsolable grief, every Saturday night, you'd allow yourself to reminisce, listening to the mixtapes while you read his letters.

You didn't think there'd been a Saturday night where you hadn't spent the whole time sobbing once you were finished, even though now, you could console yourself afterwards.

You didn't think there would be a Saturday you didn't cry over his letters.

And as you stared at the letters once more, at the ink words that were the only relics you had of Sirius, that you were certain you would see in your mind until you died, you realised that what he'd addressed you as all that time, that small four-lettered anagram that you'd thought so creative and romantic of him, could be rearranged to a word combination that was now more accurate to you than the sweet nickname of the past. Because he wasn't only the love of your life, he was something else.

Loss of my life.

122 notes · View notes

ash5monster01 · 1 year ago

Text

Learning to Love

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 3k

→ Part 1

Masterlist

You're used to crude comments, truly. Living in the Outer Banks has proven nothing other than the fact that kooks will always be cruel, even if it's towards other kooks. As long as you're in a bathing suit, something is going to be said. Which is proven true as you lie on the beach, book in hand, and sunglasses hung low on your nose. It's your only day off and you were going to enjoy it. Soak up the sun as much as you can because summer would fade away before you knew it. You had only chosen the two piece bathing suit to get more of a tan, maybe a little extra sun. It's only twenty pages into your book you hear two boys snickering not far from your own set up.

"Look a beached whale, should we call the authorities?" your ears burn red only slightly, after all you were used to it. Honestly you could care less anymore.

"God, she has to know that's gross" the other responds after his bellowing laughs have calmed down. They truly can't be that stupid they don't realize how loud they're talking right?

"No decent looking, hell self respecting man would ever date a girl like that" this punches the air out of your lungs. You knew your body type wasn’t considered attractive. This was common knowledge, but to hear someone say you couldn’t possibly ever date an attractive man is something else entirely.

“I know I wouldn’t” the boys laugh again, hands clapping together as they stare you down like you were the most disgusting thing on this beach.

You’re not upset about what they were saying. You survived highschool after all. Your school had already been divided by kooks and pogues, add in the big girl and that’s a recipe for disaster. You’ve heard the most vile and mean things a person could say. Somehow you came out of it with still a little self respect, hell even some confidence, because if you were anything at all it was strong. You had dated here and there, never had anything stick though. Maybe that’s why this comment resonated so hard with you. No matter how decent a person you meet maybe you’re bound to end up ugly and alone because an attractive man belongs with an attractive girl.

Rafe has had to attend hundreds of useless business meetings since his Dad died. He had wanted this. When he was nineteen and trying to prove to his Dad that he was worth it, but now he was gone. He had no one to impress anymore and at twenty three he carried the burden of being the CEO of an entire company with his last name on it. So that’s how he finds himself inside of dark clubs at noon, sharing a scotch with guys willing to play dirty to get what they want. He often wonders why he had wanted this life so badly. Everything he had believed in for so long was now gone. His Dad, the treasure, and now even kooks and pogues. Ever since his sister had found that treasue social classes had been practically eliminated or at least weren't acknowledged like they were before. All of this had now left Rafe without a sense of self and he desperatley needed something to change.

"Man, why can't they hire pretty waitresses to look at anymore?" Levi, a coworker slurred as he watched their waitress walk away. Rafe noticed her shoulders stiffen because she had heard what he had said. He hated he felt guilty over it.

"It's a bar, not a strip club" Matt, another coworker teased and Rafe rolled his eyes. Four years ago these guys could've been his best friends, and he would've teased the waitress right along with them. Now things were different, he was different.

"I happen to think she's cute" Rafe told them before finishing the last sip of his scotch. He knew when he got back to the office people would give disapproving looks but he didn't know what to do with himself anymore. It was like he was just floating and letting the tide drag him along wherever it wanted to.

"Yeah right" Matt snorted out a laugh and Rafe gave him a confused look as Levi started to laugh along with him.

"Seriously Rafe, you’re way out of her league" Levi told him, his shoulder bumping with his own.

"No I'm not and there is no such thing as leagues" Rafe told them with a pointed look but the boys just continued to laugh anyway.

"Yes there is and the only one's in Rafe Cameron's league are tall hot blondes with legs for miles and tan skin smooth enough slide on" Matt said and Rafe felt his stomach clench as they spoke. Had he unintentionaly maintained a type, only taken someone for their looks? Flashes of ex girlfriends went through his mind and he had realized after all this time he had only taken women for surface things.

“That can’t be true” Rafe shook his head and the boys just chuckled.

“Admit dude, you’re an asshole and you like pretty little things. Nothing wrong with that” Levi said as he slapped his back, taking another sip of his own scotch. Rafe however realized there was everything wrong with that. Yeah he’s been a jerk his whole life but had he ever actually dated a girl he liked? Someone with substance?

“Hell would freeze over the day Rafe Cameron dated someone other than a supermodel” Matt pointed with the scotch in his hand and Rafe just shook his head, eyes scanning over the small crowd that littered the bar. For the first time he was seeing people he never would’ve noticed before.

He wondered if this was a side effect of his life before. Privileged kook, popularity, a need to impress everyone around him. Had women become a part of all of that too? A side effect of a need to please, to be the best. Had he been wasting years of actually meeting someone with a personality due to his natural self destructive ways? God he hoped not. Then again he couldn’t recall ever really liking the girls he dated, he usually just tuned them out and used them when he needed to make an appearance with a date. He had never actually dated someone for fun. Worst of all he hated that everyone knew this of him. That he dated for appearance instead of happiness. He wanted to change that.

You could only take so much of the harassment coming from the two boys on the beach, so after three hours you declared you’d had enough sun and started to pack your things. When the cover up slipped over your head you didn’t miss the applause coming from them. Rolling your eyes you grabbed your bag and started the hike up the beach. You needed a drink.

Rafe hadn’t been able to shake the thoughts over the girls he dated. After a very long recollection of every girl he had ever brought around he couldn’t think of one he actually enjoyed spending time with. With this in mind he dismissed Matt and Levi back to the office, claiming he’d find a way back on his own. He needed more time to think about this, and a stiff drink to go along with it. So that’s how he found himself now sitting directly at the bar and not inside the dark booth. The whiskey in his hand suggested he wasn’t making it back to the office anytime soon.

Normally he wouldn’t remove his focus from the drink in his hands but when a bag is slapped on the counter top beside him he finds himself lifting his head. The girl claiming the seat beside him is dressed in stark contrast to his own attire. He’s still in his work suit, tie loosened around his neck, but the girl beside him has clearly just come from the beach. Her hair is wild and wrapped in a bun a top her head. A red bikini strap peaks out the collar of the white coverup. Her breasts had left wet spots slightly see through to the red fabric of her top, like she had left the beach in a rush.

“Hit me with the usual Randy” she calls to the bar keep and Rafe can’t tear his eyes away from her. She’s bigger, sure, but the dip of her hips and small pouted lips have Rafe every bit of intrigued. He can’t help the thought of her being a girl he might’ve never noticed before escape him. He wanted to notice her now.

“Rough day?” Randy smirks at her when he’s back, a tall glass with a dark liquid set in front of her. She takes a sip before responding.

“Every day is a rough day” she mutters and Randy just chuckles before walking off to serve other customers. It’s only when your eyes lock with his own Rafe realizes he has been staring this entire time. “Let me guess, you got something to say just like everyone else today”

“I, what?” Rafe doesn’t expect the coldness from you and how strong willed you are with it too. You aren’t scared of him, he isn’t used to that.

“Listen I’ve had my fill of assholes today so if you don’t have anything nice to say, keep it to yourself” you told him before turning back forward and taking a large gulp from the drink in your hand.

“Got someone bothering you?” Rafe asked finding his cool. He finally got himself to tear his eyes away from you, eyes scanning over the liquor bottles behind the bar. You turn to look at him, eyes drawn together in confusion.

“Not one specific person, everyone for some reason thinks they have the right to comment on my appearance” your words get him to turn back at you. Normally men don’t make you nervous but when you watch him eye you up and down you can’t help the way your heart accelerates.

“I happen to think you look just fine” the scoff that falls from your lips shocks him.

“I’m not looking for your pity, I happened to over hear today that no decent self respecting man would date me so let’s not lie to each other” you tell him and Rafe now feels the air knocked from his lungs. He can’t believe anyone would say that to you. Let alone to your face.

“If it makes you feel better I was told today that I only date woman for surface things” now you were the one drawing your eyebrows together in confusion, looking to the mystery of a man beside you.

“Surface things?” you question the stranger and he chuckles, his rings clinking on his whiskey glass.

“Appearances, apparently I’ve never looked deeper” this has you chuckling right along with him, lifting your own drink to your lips.

“Look at us then, two sides of the same coin. Makes you wonder if there really is anyone out there actually happy with who they ended up with” you say mostly to yourself, knowing this perfect stranger on a normal day would never look your way but you also would never find yourself thinking you had a chance with him.

“I think there is, at least the people who weren’t chewed up and spit out by the world” the optimism is what shocks you the most when he speaks. A hope for something better down in there.

“I wish I was one of those people” you find yourself saying and the boy turns to look at you again, eyes scanning over each of your features.

“Maybe we should prove them wrong” now you’re laughing, looking bewildered towards the boy beside you.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” you ask and he smirks, clearly having some sort of plan.

“We date. I prove to my coworkers that I date someone for more than just their looks and you prove to all those assholes that you can date a guy as good looking as me” he gestures to himself, as if his body is some of God’s best work. You scoff at his clear cheekiness but actually find yourself considering.

“I don’t even know your name” you laugh, trying to remind yourself that this ideal is completely absurd.

“Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you” his hand reaches across the bar, you take notice of how long his fingers are. With the shake of your head you find yourself putting your hand in his own.

“It’s not that simple” you tell him and he just smiles, dimples forming around his pressed together lips.

“Isn’t it though?” he says, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes and you sigh, finally removing your hand from his own.

“Date? As in fake date?” you ask and he nods, his head tipping to the side.

“Exactly, an agreement of sorts. We both benefit from each other, everything to gain and nothing to lose” he tells you like he’s already worked out every way this could end.

“We just met” you inform him and he shrugs, implying this wasn’t an issue.

“I’ve seen people date over less” he tells you and you sigh, holding your hand out to him. He looks are your empty palm confused and you quickly roll your eyes.

“You can’t take me out ion a date without my number dream boy” you tell him and he smirks while grabbing his phone out of his pocket and placing it in your hand. He watched as you meticulously open his contacts and punch in your number. You’ve named your contact ‘baby ❤️’ but he doesn’t get your real name until you type it into other names.

“Y/N? I like that” he smiles at you and you chuckle, clicking on the profile photo to take a selfie.

“We’re already off to a bad start if you want to stop liking people for just their surface things” he likes how quick witted you are and you don’t allow him a response as you lean into his personal space. “Can’t be a real girlfriend if I don’t have a profile picture in your phone”

You smile so easily and he instantly notices how beautiful it is. He’s not looking at the camera anymore but leaning in and taking in the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with the sunscreen and salty skin. You were like a walking beach and he loved that more than anything. That is how he finds his lips pressing softly against your cheek as the camera shutter clicks on his phone. Your body has chills that you have to brush off quickly as you look at the entirely real looking photo on his screen.

“If I didn’t like what was on the surface you would never be my fake girlfriend” he finally says as he takes his phone back before you could text yourself his number.

“I don’t like how easy this is for you. Are you sure I’m your first fake girlfriend?” you ask and he laughs, eyes falling on your face again.

“The first and the only” and you decide that coming into an agreement like this with a stranger shouldn’t be this simple.

“Then we need to lay some ground rules” this has him raising his eyebrows as you grab a napkin from the bar. He watches as you leaned over, searching for a pen behind the bar. Unashamedly he took the opportunity to inspect your ass, admiring the curve and thanking the see through fabric for revealing the cheeky bikini bottoms that laid over your large curves. He had never openly allowed himself to be attracted to a bigger girl. but now he was briefly wondering what it would be like to be suffocated by one.

“So, what’s these rules?” he smirked at you once you were sat back upright in your seat. He watched as you popped the cap off the pen with your teeth and leaving it in your mouth.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, I’ll keep them simple” you tell him, dropping the cap from you lips into the bar. He felt himself flush slightly at the nickname, watching as your neat and loopy handwriting moved across the napkin.

1. Must actively text/call/interact for a week before first “official” date.

2. PDA must be limited

3. Don’t catch feelings, no matter what

4. Attend whatever event your fake significant other asks of you

5. Most of all, don’t tell anyone, ever, that this is fake

“PDA must be limited?” you roll your eyes at the fact this was the only rule he questioned but you sign at the bottom of the napkin anyway.

“I don’t want to waste all of romantic gestures on something that isn’t real” you explain to him and he nods, sliding the napkin in front of him.

“I have a lot of work dinners I would like you to attend” he says as he signs the napkin.

“I’ll try my best” you tell him and now he’s furrowing his eyebrows at you.

“It’s your rule” he points at the napkin, more confused with you than when you first walked in here. “What could you possibly be busy with?”

“Work” you tell him and he still looks confused which you find adorable. Now rule number three only applies to you.

“Every night?” he questions and you chuckle as you return the pen to the other side of the bar.

“Usually, comes with the territory” and you laugh as he continues to try and process what you’re saying.

“What territory?” he asks and you smile, finishing the drink in front of you.

“My bar” and you gesture to the building around you. Rafe suddenly realizes why you know the names of the workers and why they know your usual drink order.

“You own this place?” and you nod, sliding off your seat and grabbing your bag. You also grab the napkin, now signed by you both.

“Don’t forget rule number one handsome” you tell him before heading towards the exit, determined to have a good rest of your day off. Rafe can only watch as you walk away, baffled any of what just happened actually occurred.

“Randy, I’m gonna need a refill”

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

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two-red-lungs · 2 years ago

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The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

#eddie munson #stranger things s4 spoilers #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine #my writing #I'M NOT DEAD I'M JUST IN UNIVERSITY

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foolishlovers · 11 months ago

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TRANS HUMAN AUs: Below you can find a list of Good Omens human AUs featuring trans characters.

[Requested by anon. You can request more fic recs here.] it’s okay, maybe not forever but we got today by astheworldcomestoanend (G, 1k) Aziraphale’s parents are fighting again, so he goes over to Crowley’s house to spend the night with him. Crowley is more than happy to bring his angel in and make sure he’s okay.

Win Condition by ineffablefool (G, 1k) Human AU. Aziraphale and Crowley's junior high school sets up a really weird school-wide Valentine's Day game that they're both kind of side-eying for different reasons. Talking about it over lunch gives them both the chance to confess something, though!

Belonging by LittleQueerdo (T, 2k) Crowley is woken by a librarian on a mission.

Not a Thirst Trap But an Oasis by scullyphile, LexArturo (M, 4k) “Thirst trap?” “You know,” Anathema says, leaning in. “A sexy pic, meant to get the attention of your followers.” She clears her throat. ”Or maybe one particular follower.” “I see,” he says, hoping he sounds casual. “You should slide into their DMs,” Anathema adds. Aziraphale’s jaw hangs open as he considers everything his friends are saying. Thankfully, he knows what DMs are, and he uses context clues to discern what sliding into them would entail. Aziraphale reconnects with an old friend via social media. A lot of things have changed in 25 years, including their genders, but one thing remains the same: he's absolutely smitten.

angel and ash by ineffabildaddy, wasleichtes (E, 4k) When Crowley returns to London after nannying for Warlock, she begins to frequent queer venues using the name Ash, manifesting a deliberately transfeminine form. Feeling more at home in her corporation than she ever has before, she is eager to guard this treasured part of her life from her angelic and demonic counterparts. That is, until one evening, when a friend from the scene “sets her up” with a man known as Angel, whom Crowley immediately identifies as Aziraphale manifesting transmasculine characteristics. For the sake of discretion, they behave as handsome strangers to one another until they are alone at an afterparty later the same night. Crowley and Aziraphale’s attempts at physical intimacy through the ages have always been stilted, awkward and anticlimactic… but in this moment, Crowley is drawn even more strongly to Aziraphale than usual, and Aziraphale feels the same about Crowley. Both beings are truly at one with their own gender presentation and earnestly, amorously fascinated by the presentation of the other as their evening together builds to a tender, breathless climax.

style, flair, and a head of red hair – she’s the nanny?! by lineslines (G, 5k) She takes a step into the light, a vision of red and black, of scant fabric and edges, seizes him in her gaze, which he realizes is almost as fiery as her hair, and drags it up and down his form, once, before she grins. “Oh angel, let me guess, you probably think tartan is stylish?” “Tartan is stylish,” Aziraphale automatically protests, before his brain slowly catches up with his mouth. And his eyes. “Oh, how impolite of me! Please do come in. You must be drenched.” (Crowley just lost her job selling cosmetics to bored rich housewives. Aziraphale is a bored rich bastard in want of a nanny for the neighbor kid he has to babysit. It's a right place, right time situation. Right people, too.)

The Art of Human Nature by IneffableDoll (T, 6k) Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster. The Colour of Hope and Sin by TawnyOwl95 (E, 7k) Crowley has never felt so pretty. Tonight he can do anything. Having Aziraphale Eastgate, the best defender that St. Beryl's School football team had ever seen, cross Crowley's path again is a chance to test that theory. And maybe they can both work out some latent teenage angst at the same time? A Stable Relationship by MirjamOmens (E, 9k) Crowley used to be one of the best eventing riders of the UK. After one unfortunate fall that crushed his leg, he ends his career and starts coaching other promising athletes. Aziraphale is a riding instructor, handling the school ponies and teaching the beginners. For the past six months they have found themselves in a sort of arrangement. It’s just friendship… and sex, whenever their schedules happen to align. It's nothing more than that, right?

Every Part of Me by foolishlovers (T, 10k) Heartthrob rockstar Antonia Harmonia, better known as Anthony J. Crowley offstage, has safeguarded his singing career from his best friend and long-term crush, Aziraphale, for nearly two decades. But when Aziraphale stumbles upon Crowley’s secret at one of his concerts, Crowley is suddenly confronted with unexpected consequences. Could the best of both worlds be within his reach? A Hannah Montana AU. I'm Beginning to See the Light by ineffabildaddy (E, 15k) There was Crowley - the paragon of cool, the overlord of apathy, breezing easily through each and every one of their exchanges and giving no fucks while doing so; then there was the anachronistic, cloying Aziraphale, trying and failing not to live life like a Thomas Hardy protagonist, and giving many fucks indeed. Or: Aziraphale has quite the pash on his colleague Crowley, who seems resolutely disinterested in him. As their annual Christmas party progresses, it appears that Crowley may not be as disinterested as Aziraphale first thought.

primary succession and other gardening techniques by nimbosa (E, 17k) His stomach feels like hard, barren rock. But there are things in the world far more stubborn than that.

Fifteen Years of Heartache by mondlichtmaus (T, 20k) Crowley was roused from his nap by the sound of somebody opening the door. He didn't move. Maybe they would go away. "Excuse me?" someone called. They weren't going away. Crowley rose, lifting his head to squint at the intruder. A broad figure, silhouetted by the light of the hallway. He couldn't make out his face, eyes still bleary from sleep. Just a halo of light framing his head. "What?" Crowley grumbled. There was a moment of silence, then the intruder spoke again. "Anthony?" They're teachers. They're in love. They're oblivious.

something good and right and real by foolishlovers (T, 30k) Desperate for a break, renowned singer-songwriter Crowley returns to his quiet hometown he swore he'd never set foot in again. He quickly realises Tadfield hasn’t changed much; the streets look exactly like he remembers, the pub still shuts its doors far too early, and the weight of judgement lingers in every gaze cast his way. Crowley’s feelings for Aziraphale, the angelic baker selling pumpkin pastries across the river, don’t seem to have changed one bit either. Oh, fuck.

Just Up the Stairs by foolishlovers, ineffabildaddy, omens_for_ophelia (E, 39k) On Valentine's Day, amidst the chaos of handling work and university deadlines as a mature student, Crowley seeks solace with his neighbour Aziraphale. As they share a meal, their long-standing friendship begins to unravel, revealing hidden feelings they've harboured for six months. It's a night that could change everything. Black and White Sunshine by Azira_Amane (E, 58k) "The cotton capital. The Second Summer of Love, the Haçienda. Irwell, Medlock, Irk and Mersey. Elizabeth Gaskell wrote her novels in a lovely little house. Oh. There’s so much to know…" Aziraphale East is, by his own account, a bit of an odd duck - and he's okay with that. He's always been happy in his own skin, in having been a confirmed bachelor his whole life. Everything changes on a work trip from London to Manchester, where he meets the vivacious and stunningly attractive Anthony Crowley. Like the splitting of the atom, Aziraphale is divided - and begins to wonder if it's not too late for love after all. Age, as they say, is but a number.

Tales of Turning Pages by foolishlovers (E, 73k) Every Tuesday, aspiring romance novelist Anthony J. Crowley pays a visit to his local library and the charming angel working there. Every Tuesday, Aziraphale Fell finds himself more and more intrigued by the curious stranger who turns his orderly life as a small-town librarian upside down.

Wild Hearts by foolishlovers (E, 145k) In the idyllic English countryside, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city, two teachers at Willowbrook Hall set out to transform their students’ lives through the world of theatre. But for Mr. Crowley, the challenge of navigating his long hidden feelings and dear friendship with Mr. Fell may prove to be the greatest drama of all.

[you can find more fic rec masterposts here]

#hope you'll enjoy these #nothing makes me happier 💜#(shamelessly included my own fics but.. i think that's fair? 😳)#good omens #good omens fics #good omens fanfic #good omens human au #trans crowley #trans aziraphale #genderfluid crowley #agender aziraphale #good omens fic rec #aziracrow #aziracrow fic #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable partners #foolish recs #go fic masterpost

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babeydollx · 2 years ago

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Oh my gawd!! Can I request smut where Rafe has a rush on the reader and everyone including her knows about it but shes afraid to be with him because of his reputation, she then starts getting very close and flirty with another guy and Rafe scares him off then he they get in an argument and he says go fuck yourself and she responds " I bet you'd like that huh, watching me moan finger myself just for you."

Jealously & Lust

Warnings: cursing, smut, fingering, mentions of sex

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Female Kook Reader

Summary: In which Rafe likes Y/N and everyone in the OBX knows it but, Y/N is afraid to risk everything to be with him so, she pretends to hate him until one night changes that.

Author's Note: I'm finally starting to slowly get on top of my requests! Sorry it's taken so long! Also part of this is seen from Rafe's pov so.

{Y/N's Pov}

Sarah had dragged you to another one of Topper's parties. You didn't mind parties but, it seemed like every other night Sarah was dragging you to another party. Your social battery needed time to charge up again.

But you didn't want to be alone on a Friday night so, you agreed that you would go to Topper's party with Sarah. At first you were just alone and drinking beer out of a red solo cup but, you weren't lonely for long.

"Hey Y/N. You look gorgeius tonight." You herd none other than Rafe Cameron say behind you. "What do you want Cameron?" You said in a annoyed tone as you turned around. you tried your best to avoid his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes. Rafe smirked. He knew the things he did to you. The way he made you feel. And you had the exact same effects on him.

"Can you not with that stupid smirk?" You asked annoyed. "Aww, but why, princess? I know you secretly love it." He said as his smirk grew. "Whatever, Cameron." You said as you pushed your now empty red solo cup into Rafe's chest and walked away from him.

{Rafe's Pov}

I had just finished taking a line of coke with Topper and Kelce when I walked out into the kitchen to see Y/N standing there flirting with another man. Why would she be flirting with another man when she had me constantly trying to win her over? How is this man any better than me anyways? My blood boiled as I watched the man pull her closer to himself and kissed her cheek. That should be me.

"Come on, Rafe, just let it go." Topper said to me as he started to pull on my arm, trying to pull me away from the situation. But I couldn't just let it go. I didn't want to do anything crazy but, she made me crazy. "Com on, man. Don't do anything crazy, bro." Kelce said to me as him and Topper both tried to convince me to just let it go. I started walking away with them but, when I turned back and saw Y/N again with that boy, I lost it.

{Y/N'S POV}

You were dancing with the guy that you had met earlier and you were having an amazing time. He was one of the sweetest guys you had met in a long time. It also helped get Rafe off your mind. It's not that you didn't want Rafe Cameron but, you knew that he was not good for you. If you were to go out with him it would end in disaster and probably with your heart getting broken. Then all of the sudden your cute moment was ruined by Rafe coming over and pushing the guy away from you.

"I- Rafe what the fuck are you doing?!" You snapped at him as he looked over at you. "Just come with me." He said as he grabbed your wrist and walked out of the crowd with you. "Are you even going to tell me where we are going?" You asked annoyed as Rafe pulled you upstairs. He went into Topper's room before shutting and locking the bedroom door and turning around to face you. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You asked with a huff. "I- what's wrong with me?! What about you?!" He snapped.

"What the hell are you talking about, Cameron?" You asked. "You dancing and flirting with that asshole." He said with a glare. "Why do you care about who I am dancing with?!" You snapped at him, tired of arguing with him. "I- just because I do!" Was all he could say back. "Y'know what, fuck you, Y/N." He said with a huff. You smirked and walked over to him before getting close to his face. "I bet you'd like that, huh? Watching me finger myself just for you? Moaning your name... only for you to hear." You said with a smirk.

Rafe stood there in shock. He wasn't expecting your guys argument to turn into something sexual but, he wasn't complaining. You just knew by his expression alone that he'd want to see that you you slowly stripped in front of him before getting onto the bed and facing him before spreading your legs for him. He bit his lip when he saw how wet you were for him. You giggled softly before slowly rubbing your clit causing yourself to moan out softly.

You continued to slowly rub your clit before you slid two fingers into your pussy. Rafe bit his lip as he watched you play with yourself. He walked over and went to help you out but you smirked and gently shoved his hand away from you. "Mm.. no you only get to watch, remember, pretty boy?" You said with a smirk. He let out a small whine and that just made you smirk more. "Don't worry baby, you'll get to play with me eventually." You said before moaning out softly as you picked up the pace of your fingers.

As you picked up the pace you looked at Rafe and bit your lip before slowly letting your head fall back, moaning out for him. "Fuck Rafe.." You moaned out softly. Hearing you moan out his name caused him to get even harder if that was even possible. You were always able to turn him on, even when you weren't doing anything sexy. Everything about you was a turn on to him. As you fingered yourself, you let your other hand to come down and start rubbing your clit which caused you to moan more. You looked back up at Rafe and smirked when you saw the tent in his pants.

"Someone's enjoying the show I see." You said with a smirk before a moan slipped out of your mouth. You felt that familiar knot tightening in your stomach and you knew that you were going to cum. Your head fell back again as you moaned out. "I- fuck.. I'm gonna cum, baby." You said as you slowly became a moaning mess as your orgasm was approaching. Then Rafe grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. "Keep your eyes on me, I want to be able to see you when you cum." He said with a smirk.

You locked eyes with him as he asked before you were pushed over the edge. Your legs began to tremble as you gushed all over your fingers. He let a groan out and bit his lip as he watched you cum. "Fuck, you're so pretty, baby." He said as his gaze finally left yours and his eyes trailed down to look at your body and the mess you made on the bed. He smirked more as he slid two fingers through your folds, bringing them up to his lips and sucking his fingers clean. "You taste as good as you look, princess." He said with a smirk.

He then got onto the bed and spread your legs wide before he began to unbuckle his belt. "I'm going to fuck until you aren't able to walk." He said with a smirk. "I wanna hear the sweet noises you make all night and watch you cum over and over again." He said, making you bite your lip. It was going to be a long night but, you looked forward to that.

Author's Note: tysm for reading lovlies! <3

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sgiandubh · 1 year ago

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What happened with Barbour ?

Dear Barbour Anon,

My favorite kind of Anon, even if I know the question has recently been asked again and not in this corner. Never mind, I think it's time to talk about it, too.

I bought my first Barbour (entry-level, so olive) Bedale wax jacket 25 years ago, from their (long gone, now) shop on Boulevard Raspail, in Paris. It was a mandatory clothing item to own if you wanted to properly mingle with the law school crowd (it still is) and it ended up being one of my most prized possessions, possibly a part of me. I still have it somewhere, back home. Two more followed, along with a fetishist array of shirts, scarves, beanies and even one of those sturdy crossbody bags you can fit half a house in. So you can imagine my absolute thrill when I found out, very very late, that S had had a rather substantial collaboration with them, from 2016 and until 2019.

I am very bad with timelines, as you probably know and possibly even cackle about, but still: S was appointed as the company's first ever Global Brand Ambassador on July 16, 2016. His mission statement was very precisely defined by the brand and for some reason we'll analyze a bit later, this is important:

(Source, heh: https://www.astonbourne.co.uk/is-barbour-a-luxury-brand-unraveling-the-mystique-of-classic-outerwear/).

A shirt and vest signature collection followed in 2017 and 2018, with the contract being renewed. Advertisement was absolutely gorgeous and designed to shape a very positive image, both for S and the brand. Last autumn's SS Gin promo retained some of that irresistible aesthetic DNA and I discussed it at length.

See for yourself, Anon. The fandom endlessly discussed the first long clip (with the chocolate labrador), but I have no idea if these two have been seen, let alone debated. If they did, let that be my nostalgic mistake.

Spring/Summer 2018:

youtube

Fall 2018:

youtube

And then disaster stroke, with S's trip to Ha-wa-wee 1.0, in the spring of 2019. A short reel, featuring a rather agglomerated boat trip, was posted on socials. Unfortunately for S, it also featured an allegedly horrifying scene involving the 'traditional' bludgeoning to death of a tuna fish. Emotions ensued and as it often happens here, they spun out of control. Many people, including some of the most vocal S haters, tagged Barbour in their diatribes, filled with environmentalist indignation. They suggested this guy (who did not participate to the savagery and I would be even unsure he realized what was going on) was, by no reasonable means, a proper 'embodiment of the brand's identity, values and aspirations' (remember that mission statement?).

Tone deaf as ever in the midst of a serious PR crisis, S put friendship above anything else, and publicly praised the boat's owner, calling him 'the heart and soul of the island', if I remember well. I still would like to think he has no idea what the hell exactly happened. And then, when somebody finally (August 2019) asked Barbour on Insta about their collaboration with S, they got this politely dry, but clear answer:

"We don't have any plans for a collaboration with SH in the near future" means, in my book and to my understanding, "we are never going to work with this guy again". Truly, some people in here who dare to give morality lessons to others, should be proud of themselves: they did it knowingly and in a very organized way, using multiple sock accounts, to give the impression of a collective retching reflex. To cut the story short, the dread of any ad campaign on this planet.

The effort was genuine. The result of that collaboration was very good. Take, for example, this somewhat heartbreaking customer review by an American guy who has no idea who SRH is and who bought one of those jackets from a Barbour factory warehouse, in 2021, with a hefty rebate (70% off). Clearly something Barbour wanted to get rid of at all costs - what a pity and really what a SHAME on all those hypocrites who will never admit to a public assassination by the book:

youtube

This time, I am absolutely not sorry for the length, Anon. This is something that still makes me boil. Unfairness and cheap nastiness simply disgust me.

(Thank you, sweetheart, for the screenshot, always. You know who you are 😘😘😘).

#anon #fandom #shitshow

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ghastme · 3 months ago

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Can we just talk about how caring Izuku is?

When Bakugo explained his behaviour in the apology he said he pushed Izuku away because he felt like Izuku was stronger than him. We all know he means emotionally (since physically it'd be impossible) but I'd like to go back on that emotional part.

We know he has been bullying him since they are 4 (insane btw) till they were 14 (still insane btw). So for 10 years he has been pushing Izuku away from himself. Pushing, shoving, insulting, beating him up and destroying his posessions.

...

For 10 years he has been doing all that to keep Izuku away from him. And yet Izuku only ever backed down socially. He knew talking to him would end in disaster but he never let go of him. Not his nickname for him, not his fond memories of their time together. He held on, latched onto that single shred of hope since they were friends when they still ate sand out of the sandbox. He is still hopeful that someday they may have a normal conversation again. But while being hopeful he does not look past Katsukis behavior. He calles him a 'jerk' an 'idiot' and resent the way Katsuki acts towards him. But he is still hopeful. He still tries to better him.

And the thing is Katsuki is not the only one he does is for.

Any villan that has shown even the teensy-tiniest bit of edgy background story, Izuku does it for.

Mr. Gentle and La Brava, Lady Nagant, Shigaraki, and I bet on every last cent in my bank account, others villains too. (I just don't remember any others right now)

He cares for their morals, he cares for their inner child, their inner fight with trauma and other factors. But heavens does he not excuse their crimes. He will fight till death if that means they will see that they are in the wrong of how they act now and that they should find another, a kinder, more respectful way of expressing their passion.

He will NEVER disregard a person for their dreams and wishes. No matter the circumstances. Though he will try his best to help them achive it.

'You always treat others how you want to be treated.'

And I could cry.

#izuku midoriya #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha midoriya #mha izuku #deku #bnha deku #analysis #i love him so much and #i hate horikoshi #for writing him so good #he did not deserve that #i love him #screaming crying throwing up

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kikyoupdates · 23 days ago

Text

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟻

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“We should exchange contact info, right? How do you want to do it? Phone number, email, maybe a messaging app you use…?”

You lean closer to your partner, who, rather than looking at you while you talk, has opted to stare straight down at his desk.

“Um,” you try again, “so… which of those options sound good to you?”

Theo bristles a bit. “Phone number is f-fine,” he stammers.

“Okay, great. Let’s swap phones and add each other as contacts, then.”

You proceed to do just that, but he still refuses to even glance your way. At first, you were a bit put off when he suddenly marched away without even responding to your initial question, but the more you try and speak with him, the more you’re starting to realize that he’s incredibly shy. He might even have social anxiety.

Of course, you sympathize with him. It must feel awful to be that nervous around others and be forced to do a project with someone he’s never met before. But there’s really no way around this. For better or worse, he’s going to have to loosen up around you, because without proper communication, this project is going to be a disaster.

You decide to try and find some common ground first.

“This prof is kind of an asshole, isn’t he?” you whisper. “I feel like nobody likes this class. He always assigns so much work and barely explains anything in his lectures.”

No response, although you’d expected as much. Even though you know it’s probably not that he dislikes you or anything, it doesn’t feel great to sit directly next to someone and talk to him while he looks away from you and basically pretends like you’re not even there.

You sigh heavily. Oh, well. Can’t say you didn’t try. There are only a few minutes left before the professor resumes class, and since you’re not making any progress with Theo, you decide to kill time by scrolling through your phone.

“I… like this class.”

His voice is so quiet that you barely even register it, but when you look away from your phone and turn your head, you see Theo meeting your gaze for the first time.

“Th-The material is pretty interesting,” he mumbles. “And I prefer having lots of assignments over tests. I get… really nervous during exams.”

Oh.

You set your phone down and nod encouragingly. “True. That makes sense. I don’t have an issue with the course content itself, but I feel like the professor could do a better job of teaching it. Most of it feels like self-study to me. Which isn’t always bad, but sometimes the extra guidance would be nice.”

“He’s not a good teacher,” Theo admits. “But… I like learning on my own anyways, so it’s not too bad. I get why other people don’t really like it, though. He assigns a lot of work…”

“Other profs usually let students choose their groups or partners too, but I guess he’s pretty strict about this kind of stuff. It worked out, though,” you beam. “Because now we get to work together. I feel like we’ll do a great job.”

Theo stares at you in silence for a few moments, then much to your dismay, reverts back to looking down at his desk. You only got a couple seconds of direct eye contact, but hey, you’ll take it.

Soon enough, the lecture begins, and the professor goes over the expectations for the project, as well as the overall grading scheme. Just as you figured, it’s going to take a long time to finish, and if it’s at all similar to previous assignments you’ve done in this class, then you can probably expect for him to be a harsh marker.

Not that there’s any point in whining about it. It’ll be one hell of a grind, but you’re going to have to pull it off.

Class finally ends, and you start packing up your belongings, but you turn towards Theo before you leave.

“Oh, right,” you say, quickly tapping on your phone. “I just sent you a text to make sure my number saved correctly. Did you get it?”

After a brief delay, his phone screen lights up, and he stares at it long and hard before nodding.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I got it.”

“Awesome!” you grin. “So, I’m not sure exactly when, but we should start figuring out some of the details for the project, like dividing the work and whatnot. I don’t really know anyone in this class, so do you want to sit together from now on? It would make it easier to discuss things.”

“Sit together?” Theo blinks repeatedly. It’s one of the rare instances when he’s actually making eye contact with you. “You want… to sit with me?”

“Well, of course. You’re my partner. And even if you weren’t, why wouldn’t I want to sit with you?”

“Oh. I don’t know.” A sad look crosses his face, and he lowers his head again. “A-Alright. We can sit together from now on. I’ll start brainstorming ideas for our project and what would work based on the topic we’ve been assigned.”

“That sounds great. I’ll start doing the same thing. See you later, Theo.” You throw your backpack over your shoulders and wave him off with a smile. “I hope you have a nice rest of your day!”

Theo can just barely see you waving out of the corner of his eye, and he briefly considers waving back to you, but he stops himself from raising his hand.

He shouldn’t read into it too much. You’re just being polite, and you would never have even talked to him if you hadn’t been partnered together.

Yeah. That’s the bitter truth. But it’s okay, because he’s used to it by now.

Nobody ever wants anything to do with him.

It’s been a long day.

You started off by getting jumpscared by Callum’s ex-girlfriend, not to mention blindsided by a completely different situation than you’d agreed to. But you guess it worked out in the end, and even though you still strongly believe they aren’t good for each other, ultimately, Callum is the client, and he gets to call the shots.

Afterwards, you walked into your least favorite class and got jumpscared again by an impromptu research project, where you ended up with who is most likely the shyest guy you’ve ever met. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you know it’ll make working together a bit more challenging.

Long story short, you’re tired, and you’ve got a buttload of homework waiting for you back home. Joy.

You step into your apartment and kick your shoes off without wasting a beat. You ate with Callum earlier, but you’re starting to get hungry again, and you don’t have time to cook a proper dinner tonight, so you decide to order in.

You change into some more comfortable clothes and start tackling some assignments while you wait for your order to arrive. Your focus wanes every so often, and you catch yourself watching funny animal videos on your phone.

“God, I have no self-control,” you sigh, having to place your phone outside your room so you can actually get some work done.

Just as you’re about to sit back down at your desk, the doorbell rings.

Oh. Food’s here already?

You open the door, and right on cue, the smell of delicious, hot food fills your nostrils and has you practically salivating.

“Hey, there!”

You’re greeted by a friendly-looking young man, somewhere around your age, if you had to guess. He has a long earring dangling from one of his earlobes, and the kind of good looks you might expect a celebrity to have.

He’s also grinning ear-to-ear as he holds out your packaged meal.

“I’ve got an order for delivery right here for you,” he hums. “Just checking that I’ve got the right place. This is for [Name], right?”

You nod. “That’s me. Thanks. You got here really fast.”

“I’m the fastest delivery guy they’ve got,” he proudly states. You can’t help but chuckle in response. Most delivery people hardly share his upbeat demeanor—not that you can really blame them—so it’s kind of a breath of fresh air.

You settle the payment and grab your food, and he blinks in surprise at how big of a tip you gave him.

“Oh, wow!” he exclaims. “That’s so generous of you! Thanks a bunch!”

“Don’t mention it. Your energy was really contagious, so it put me in a good mood,” you smile. “And thanks again for getting here so fast. Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

He keeps grinning up until you shut the door, and you happily walk over to the dining room table to enjoy your food. It’s crazy what a positive interaction with someone can accomplish. Even if he’s just a stranger that you won’t ever be seeing again, it still lifted your spirits.

Now, then. Time to dig in.

“I’m back, babe. Did you miss me?”

Axel hardly takes two steps into his apartment before being greeted in a big hug by his boyfriend, Liam.

“Welcome back,” Liam smiles. “You got home earlier than usual today. I was worried you’d be out past midnight again.”

“Not too many deliveries to run,” Axel shrugs. “It’s all good. You know I don’t mind working late, as long as I’m getting paid.”

“Don’t push yourself too hard. Remember, I can always cover us if we’re short on money,” Liam insists.

“Of course. But I like working. I like staying busy. I can always count on getting hours for this job while I wait on my other ones.” Axel pauses, then grins as he lifts up a big paper bag. “Anyways, I got some freebies. You in the mood for fried chicken?”

“Greasy stuff like that isn’t good for my skin,” Liam shrinks back. “What if I break out before my next photoshoot?”

“Pfft. You always look cute. Don’t even worry about it.”

Liam blushes, but even though he’s been trying to keep his diet clean recently, he can never say no to Axel.

Well, it’s fine. This will just have to be a cheat day.

Axel sighs heavily as he plops down in front of the TV, already digging into the bag of fried chicken. “This chicken slaps. I wonder if I should steal their secret recipe one day. I doubt it’d be that hard to find.”

“Maybe don’t,” Liam chuckles. “That sounds like the kind of thing you’d get fired for. But then again, I’m sure you’d find another job almost immediately.”

“True that.”

For a while, they focus on eating and watching TV, but all of a sudden, Axel’s eyes widen.

“Oh, right! I forgot to mention, but one of the girls I delivered food for today was super pretty,” he says. “I think you would’ve liked her too.”

Liam sighs. “You’re always talking about girls. You do realize I’m your boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah, but aren’t we both bi?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Relax,” Axel laughs, taking a bite of fried chicken. “You know I don’t mean anything by it. But I’m sure you would’ve thought she was pretty too. She seems like she’d be your type.”

“Maybe,” Liam shrugs. “Anyways, you know that app I was telling you about before? Apparently one of my friends actually used it.”

Axel takes another bite of chicken, fully immersed in the TV. “That’s cool.”

“Do you even know which app I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, nice.”

“Axel,” Liam grimaces, pinching his cheek to grab his attention, “Listen to me. The app I was talking about before. You know, the one where you can hire someone to pretend to date you?”

“People actually do that?”

“Well, yeah. My friend did it. It sounded like he was happy with it, but I don’t know. It’s not a real relationship, so is there even a point?”

Axel scratches his cheek. “I guess he was feeling lonely or something. What’s the app?”

“Huh? Oh. Hold on. I can download it if you want to look through it.”

It starts off as simple intrigue. Neither of them are actually interested in the app, and are more so scrolling through it to sate their curiosities, just like you did before.

But inevitably, it will become so much more than that.

Liam will regret this decision for the rest of his life.

“So, these are all people you can hire?” Axel clarifies, furrowing his brows. “Everyone’s listing different hourly rates and things they’re willing to do.”

“From what I heard, everyone sets their own standards,” Liam explains. “But there’s a market out there for pretty much anyone. And it sounds like there’s definitely a big demand. I didn’t think so many people would be into this.”

“Weird. Not sure I could ever get into it.”

“Yeah, me neither. I’m kind of worried about my friend, to be honest. I feel like he’s been in a dark place lately—”

“Wait, hold up!”

Axel snatches the phone out of Liam’s hands, much to the latter’s surprise. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but for some reason, his boyfriend is staring at the screen like a man possessed.

“Her,” Axel points. “This is her. The girl I ran into earlier today. Holy shit. What are the odds?”

Liam frowns and leans closer. Sure enough, there’s a girl’s profile on screen, and admittedly, she is very pretty.

“Isn’t she cute?” Axel gushes. “She was super nice and gave me a generous tip too! I just get the feeling that she must be a great person.”

“She’s definitely attractive,” Liam nods.

“See? I knew you’d like her. Be honest, would you consider dating her for real if you were single?”

“Based on appearance alone… probably. But I already have you,” Liam smiles, playfully poking Axel on the tip of his nose. “You’re the best there is.”

“Haha. You always know how to stroke my ego.”

Figuring the conversation is over, Liam pecks his boyfriend on the cheek, then turns his attention back to the TV.

The next thing Axel says catches him completely off guard.

“Should we… hire her?”

“What?”

Liam feels his stomach drop. He doesn’t understand where this is coming from. Everything they were saying earlier was all in good fun.

…wasn’t it?

“I think she’s super hot,” Axel admits. “And I kind of want to see what the big deal is. Is it really that fun to hire someone to pretend to date you? I’m kind of starting to wonder what it’s like. Plus, you said you’re attracted to her too, so it’s a win-win, right?”

“But… we already have each other,” Liam swallows.

“Don’t people do this kind of thing nowadays? Dating multiple people at a time and stuff.”

“You mean like a polyamorous relationship? Yeah, I’ve heard of it, but… I don’t know. I don’t think I’m comfortable with something like that.”

“Well, yeah, but it wouldn’t be for real,” Axel persists. “It would just be pretend. And you would get to know what it feels like to date a girl and a guy at the same time. Plus, we would probably only do it once. Like, one little date. I don’t know, I just think it’d be cool to try. Maybe you’ll find out you actually like this sort of thing.”

Liam doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting Axel to be pushing for something like this, especially since he’s never really expressed any interest before.

Is he being too close-minded? It’s true that this would only be pretend. Most of these partners-for-hire have rules about physical intimacy anyways, so it’s not like anything inappropriate would happen.

Besides… Axel looks really excited about it. He’s always been the perfect boyfriend, so maybe it’s time to let him do exactly what he wants for a change.

“Just one date?” Liam affirms. “And if I’m not into it… then we won’t do it again, okay?”

Axel nods reassuringly. “Of course. I wouldn’t pressure you into anything you didn’t want. This is just to experiment and see if it’s something we like.”

“In that case… alright.”

The second Liam voices his approval, Axel breaks into a massive grin and pulls his boyfriend snug into his arms. Liam chuckles and hugs him back. Yeah, this is fine. He’s in the healthiest, happiest relationship of his life, and that has to count for something. The fact that they can even do something this just goes to show how much they trust each other.

Everything will be okay.

He’s sure of it.

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