#which he shared with Jane. like he OPENED UP to her and he was finally feeling like... accepted and cared for

[pastafossa]

I'm not sure if this was already asked, but if Jane had skipped town when she had planned to, would Matt ever forgive her? How would he react?

Ooooh, now this is an interesting question.

I definitely think there's a small part of him that never would have forgiven her for it, especially since he'd already had a few vulnerable moments with her where he'd opened up and she, seemingly, had opened up with him, too. But mostly, it would have simply... broken that part of him that felt hope, that felt that maybe, just maybe he deserved to have someone care about him, or even love him one day, because he'd have read her letter - the kinder one, the gentler one, the one that said without saying, 'I could see myself loving you if I stayed.'

Ironically, despite her intentions - that she leave him a kinder letter, one that was honest and told him how much she cared for him - reading that letter after dhe left would have broken an entirely different part of him.

The loss of her, the idea that he'd been left alone again by someone who might have loved him, would have been all the proof he needed that he was a fuckup, that everyone in his life that he cared about was destined to leave him. He'd spiral, spiral right down into the decision that all he could do was leave them first before he hurt them so bad or put them in so much danger that they left him behind and, subconsciously, before they hurt him like the loss of his parents had, like Stick and Elektra and now Jane had by walking away. He'd retreat in on himself, curling up tight around that hurt and hiding behind the ferocity, darkness, and rage of the Devil because that seemed like the only way he could protect himself from being abandoned again when he wanted so, so desperately to have just ONE person who might... love him. It would have been a ticket to the S3 mindset basically, but because Karen and Foggy at that point didn't know about Daredevil, and because he hadn't met Maggie yet, no one really would have been in a decent position to help drag him up out of that spiral.

And Stick knew that, which is exactly why he tried to talk Jane into leaving, and why he gave her that letter to ensure she truly broke the more gentle, tender part of Matt. He knew this would push Matt into the mindset Stick wanted: that Matt was meant to be alone, that there was nothing for him but his 'duty', and there was certainly no room for friends, for lovers, or family.

One day it's possible he would have pulled himself out of it, and by then he likely would have forgiven her - either because he recognized she ran for fear of Cyrus, or because he simply blamed himself instead of her - but either way, if that domino had tipped, a part of him never really would have recovered or felt safe reaching for that kind of gentle connection again.

[finelinefae]

flower [tattooH x Innocenty/n]

synopsis: harry's the boy next door, he's also a tattoo artist aannd y/n's sexual awakening because she's an innocent virgin with a flower shop. 

word count: 8.6k

content warnings: smut (fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, virgin Y/N) 

read part 2 here

my first imagine !! i hope u enjoy it !! i enjoy it here very much !

. . .

Y/N had been having a terrible week.

She owned a flower shop called 'Sweet Juniper' which had been hers for almost an entire year. It had been her dream to share her love of flowers with everybody so when she finally saved enough money to set up a shop, she worked tirelessly to make it the best possible floral shop the town had ever seen.

People would put in special requests if they needed flower arrangements for special occasions or others would just come by to just lift their mood a little bit if they were having a tough day. Y/N loved her customers and spent so much time chatting throughout the day all whilst tending to her plants.

But this week was not fun.

The shop next door had been empty for a long time now - ever since Y/N had set up shop. She lived in the flat above the shop so it was ideal not to have to handle any neighbours. But the past few weeks, decorators and construction workers had been making a lot of noise - fixing up the empty shop - which meant someone was moving in.

Y/N hadn't met them yet so she wasn't sure what the shop next door would be. The town was relatively quiet so she expected a bakery or maybe a clothing boutique. Only yesterday, with the shop all set up and ready to go, she found it to be nothing of the sort.

It was dark and music pulsed through the walls of her flower shop. The heavy bass made it sound like someone was trying to fight their way through the floorboards she had painted a very, very light pink.

Her customers had complained especially the older bunch. They had trouble concentrating whenever they tried to talk to her or hear her advice on what the best flowers were during the current autumn season.

So after a not-so-fun week and frequent visits to the corner shop to top up her headache medication, Y/N made the decision to confront her new neighbour and tell them exactly how she felt. She wasn't going to let her flower shop fail because of an inconsiderate, noisy fool.

Y/N flipped the sigh from 'open' to 'closed' and took off her apron which had her name in swirly handwriting embroidered onto the breast pocket. She took three deep breaths and mentally went through her speech. She wouldn't be unkind but she would be fair.

"You can do this Y/N," She said to herself before she exhaled and opened the door to walk five steps over to her next-door neighbour.

She hadn't seen the shop properly since the decorating was completed so was immediately struck by how dark it was in comparison to her own shop. It was painted black with illustrations and pictures of people's tattoos set up in the shop window.

The pavement was lit up in the darkness by the red neon lights coming from inside the shop. Everything about it was so different to her baby pink and white flower shop.

The sudden thought of turning back and going upstairs to her apartment almost tempted her enough to turn away but she knew the problem would not be resolved if she were to sit by and do nothing.

Her Mary Jane heels tapped against the pavement as she came to stand in front of the door. It seemed as though the shop was still open, so she pushed the door and stepped inside.

The smell of tobacco and musk and ink hit her senses as she closed the door behind her. The heavy bass of the music was now pounding through her ears. The nerves were rising within her and turning back seemed much more tempting now.

She spun on her heel and reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

"Are you here for a tattoo?" His voice was deep, husky and... pretty.

She turned around and was met with a tall figure standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. His arms were by his side and he was wearing a black, fitted shirt with black trousers and low cut doc martens with red laces. His face was illuminated by the red, neon sign on the wall with the words 'Styles INK' written in a grungey font.

"T-tattoo?" She gulped, the script she had rehearsed over and over again was nowhere to be found like the words had silently fallen from her brain, through her nose and slipped from her mouth before she had time to speak them out loud.

He walked to the front desk, footsteps heavy against the wooden floor. "We don't take walk-ins this late at night if that's what you're after."

The tone of his voice made her tremble in her heels. She curled her fingers into a fist and tried to stop her heart from beating so fast. "I-I'm not here for a tattoo. I-I'm actually from next door."

His head lifted up, she could finally see the colour of his eyes were a pale green and his hair was curly and brunette. "Ahhh," He dropped the pen he was fiddling with on the desk, "The flower girl."

She huffed, "Yes, that would be me."

"M allergic to flowers." He said.

"W-what? Why would you set up shop next to a flower shop then?" She asked.

"Only place that offered a space with an apartment." A breath slipped past her lips.

He was not only her shop neighbour but her neighbour neighbour too.

Well, this just made things a bit more awkward.

He came in front of the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. Y/N saw every inch of the skin on his arm littered with tattoos and even caught a glimpse of his ring-clad fingers. "Listen, if you're not here for a tattoo then why are you here? I need to close up so I'd appreciate it if you were quick with whatever it is you came here for."

Y/N swallowed her nerves, "Your music is too loud a-and it's driving my customers away."

"What was that?" He wanted her to repeat herself.

"Y-Your music, it's much too loud and my customers are c-complaining." She wished she didn't stutter but at least she got what she needed to say out.

"My music?" His eyebrows scrunch up.

"Yes." She nods.

"What about your music?" He retorts, "s all I can hear when I'm upstairs."

She immediately blushes and wonders how long he has been staying in the apartment upstairs. Y/N was so used to not having neighbours that she hadn't thought to turn her music down or take a break from her lonesome karaoke nights.

"That's different."

"If I have to hear you sing to that broken-hearted, bubble-gum pop princess every night then you can't complain about me playing my music like I have." He argues.

"B-but I don't play it in the day like you do! It's so loud! It is - hey quit laughing!" She huffs when he snickers at her.

"M sorry, you're just so little." He laughs. "Maybe that's why I haven't seen you since I've moved in."

Y/N crossed her arms, "I'd just appreciate it if you turned your music down a little, just so my customers can shop for their flowers in peace."

He says nothing. Instead, his eyes scan her face and then fall on the rest of her. She was wearing light blue jeans and a pink, cosy sweater. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with a white, silk ribbon and her heels were still on her now aching feet.

He smirks, "Alright, I'll turn my music down but you have to do the same. I don't want to hear you sing about Romeo and Juliet or running out of the woods at 11 o'clock at night when I'm trying to relax."

She turns pink but luckily the red light hides the true colour of her cheeks, "Fine." She huffs and turns on her heel, too embarassed to say anything else.

"It was nice to meet you, flower." He says and she swears she can hear him smiling.

Her entire face heats at the nickname.

***

The next day, Y/N walked downstairs to her flower shop and prepared for a new day. She spent the rest of her night after visiting the stranger next door, quietly listening to music in hopes he would reciprocate today.

She hadn't seen him since last night and part of her was grateful for that. He was tall and intimidating and covered in tattoos but his voice was just so...nice that she couldn't seem to get the thought of him out of her head since she walked out of his tattoo shop. It was embarrassing to admit and Y/N was awfully bad at hiding her emotions so she hoped that would be the last time she'd speak to him face to face.

When she flipped the sign on the door to 'open', she held her breath as she waited for the sound of heavy, rock music coming through the walls only to find complete silence. She smiled and mindfully tapped herself on the back for being brave enough to go over and stand her ground.

Her customers were happy with the change too. They stayed and chatted with Y/N for a while, bringing home their baskets of flowers. The day had been much more successful than the past week had and she was thankful things would finally get back on track.

After cleaning the shop at the end of the day, she walked upstairs to her apartment and immediately decided to get into her new cute pyjamas she had ordered from Hollister - long trouser bottoms and a cute tank top both covered in the same pink, ditsy floral print.

She made herself some dinner and snuggled up on her tiny couch with her pet cat, Marshel, nestling to the side of her. Y/N hummed in delight when she made the decision to re-watch her favourite Harry Potter movie- it was the best film for the autumn weather.

Ten minutes into the movie sounds of people speaking and loud music sounded through the walls of her apartment. "Oh please no," She looked up at the ceiling, praying that someone out there would put her out of her misery.

It could only be her new neighbour, the tattoo artist, the one with the nice voice.

She pressed her ear against the door of her apartment and from the racket of people speaking and how loud the music was, she knew he was having a party.

"It's going to be a long night Marsh." She sighs, picking up her kitty and carrying him to bed.

At 2 am, Y/N was still awake. The party was still going and the music had yet to quieten down.

Y/N had been tossing and turning all night. Tears in her eyes as she tried to sleep but couldn't because of the loud noises coming from next door. At this rate, she'd only get four hours of sleep before she had to be up again for the busiest day of the week at the shop.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She flipped her duvet off and swung her legs over the bed. Her eyes fighting to stay open as she stumbled for the door.

At this rate, she was so tired she didn't care how she looked. She just wanted the quiet.

She flung her front door open and already found herself outside the tattoo artist's door. She knocked but the music was so loud, the only thing she could do was invite herself in.

The door opened and suddenly she was in a whole new world. There was cigarette smoke and a strong stench of alcohol. It was dark but red LED lights lit the room. People were laying on the floor or sitting around chairs or dancing in the empty spaces. There must have been about thirty people but with how tiny the apartment was it felt like much more.

Y/N took a deep breath and began her mission to find the source of where the music was coming from. Everyone was much taller than her which made it harder for her to push past people, especially in their drunken state.

"Excuse me please," she mumbled.

"Flower," his voice made her freeze in place.

She stilled and spun round on her sock-covered feet, making a mental note to throw them in the trash when she got home.

The person standing in front of her looked the same, wearing the same all black outfit he wore yesterday. She could see the illustrations of his tattoos a little better this close and she could also see the anger that covered the features of his face.

"Y-you." She said through parted lips, unable to hide her fear or shock.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a corner of the room. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and covered her with his body like he wanted to hide her away.

"The m-music it's too loud and I-I can't sleep." She said, nearing on tears.

"You and your loud music." He muttered, "It's Saturday night. Shops aren't open on a Sunday."

"Mine is." She said.

"What?"

"I open my shop on a Sunday. I do work shops for little kids whose parents have to work on weekends and for elderly people who get a little lonely." It was her favourite day of the week but now she was dreading it because of the lack of sleep.

His expression seemed to soften but he rolled his eyes, "Of course you do."

"I just need to sleep for four more hours and then you can carry on doing whatever you're doing." He smirked.

"You've never been to a party before flower girl?" She shook her head and yawned.

Harry's smile fell and he sighed. He looked around at the party and then at the sleepy girl in front of him. "Fucks sake." He muttered and wrapped an arm around her.

Y/N's eyes widened when his hand rested on her shoulder. He tucked her into his side and quickly manoeuvred past everybody.

"Is that your new girl Styles?"

"Nice one, H."

"Have fun Styles."

"Ignore them." Harry told her as he reached their front door.

"Is that your name? Styles?" Y/N realised she had yet to ask what his name actually was.

"S Harry. You call me Harry." He says and she smiles at how normal and soft his name was compared to his dark and grizzly stature.

She hadn't realised what he was doing until he opened the door to her apartment. She gasped, suddenly wide awake and highly alert considering he was now in her very messy, untidy apartment.

"W-what are you doing?" She ran to her sofa and picked her blankets up from the floor before grabbing her bowl of popcorn from the coffee table that was littered with books and magazines she was halfway through reading.

Harry's eyes darted around her small apartment. The corner of his lips flinched into an almost smile when he saw the pastel colours littered around the place. It was so her - cute and cosy.

"You wanted to sleep." He said, "M helping you sleep."

Her mouth opened and closed in shock, "Helping me sleep?"

"Mhm, I've got these," He pulled out some earbuds from his pocket, "They're noise cancelling. Can't hear a sound when you've got them in your ears."

She looked at them in intrigue, "Where's your room?" He wondered, already walking in the direction of her bedroom like he'd been in her apartment many times before.

"My room's a little untidy," She tried to get past him so she could block him from coming into her room but he was much too tall.

"Don't care flower, just helping you out." He walked into the messy bedroom and paid no mind to the state of the floor. She'd never had a man in her room before so wasn't sure exactly what to do. Her apartment seemed so much smaller from his presence alone. "Get into bed, love." He pulled out his phone.

"O-okay," She said and tucked herself under her blanket.

It was strange to let a person she barely knew into the confines of her room but she was too tired to care and something inside of her trusted him.

He crouched beside her, resting an arm on her mattress. "Here put these in," He handed her the headphones, "Can you hear me?" He asked but received no reply, instead, Y/N giggled.

"I can't hear you Harry!" She laughed and something weird happened in his chest.

He smiled, "Tha's good." He murmured and put on a song he knew she would like.

Her heart stopped beating in her chest when the gentle piano music began to play. An instrumental of 'Cardigan' by her favourite singer whispered into her ears as he played it on a low volume.

"Sleep now flower." He encouraged.

"M name's Y/N." She whispered, her eyes fluttering shut, "You can call me Y/N."

"Y/N," He whispered back and the name seemed to unlock something deep inside of him. He said it once more for good measure before leaving her there with the music still playing.

***

Y/N woke up the next morning with a phone that was not hers resting right by her head. She had managed to fall asleep for four hours thanks to the man who she now knew as Harry. She felt as though last night was a fever dream and Harry had been a guardian angel, granting her sleep at last.

She could have slept in for another four hours but the shop would not run itself and she had many workshops on today that a lot of people had signed up for. She grabbed Harry's phone and made a mental note to give it back to him before she went to open the shop.

She made herself a good breakfast and fed Marshel as well, before getting dressed into a grey mini dress with a cute white collar and an encrusted black bow. She tied her hair back into a half up, half down and fastened it with a black bow to match her dress. She wore the same black Mary Jane heels and a bag with her packed lunch inside.

When she left her apartment, she listened out for any loud music coming from Harry's apartment only to be met with silence. She knocked three times- his phone in her hands- but no one answered.

She'd come back later, she thought. Maybe he was also catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Her first workshop of the day was with a group of children.

Their parents worked weekends and some of them were from the orphanage that they had signed up to help them develop new hobbies. Y/N knew them all by name and loved teaching them how to grow their own tomato plants and arrange flowers with cute bows.

An hour before lunch, she had a class with a group of mothers whose children had just left home. Most of them came because they needed a little company on the weekends when not a lot was going on at home or they wanted to pick up a new hobby.

In the midst of her basket weaving session, Y/N heard a phone ring. She glanced at the phone still on the front desk and saw the screen lighting up. "Excuse me ladies," she slid off the chair and walked over to Harry's phone.

Mike Supplier was the name on the screen. She wondered whether or not it was important and if she should answer it just in case. The phone stopped ringing for a brief moment until the name lit up the screen again.

"Seems important, Y/N." One of the ladies said.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and walked to the back room, pressing the green button to accept the call. "Fucking finally!" A gruff voice speaks on the other end, "I've got your stash when do you want it?"

"Excuse me?" Y/N blushed, not use to such aggressive language.

The person paused, "Are you Styles' new lady? Listen can you put him on the phone? I need to speak to him urgently."

Y/N was in shock, "I'm not his lady! I'm his neighbour."

"Well, whatever you are could you just pass the phone to him?"

"Give me a second," She huffed, entering the shop again and turning towards the ladies who were in deep conversation, "Ladies, I just need a moment to go next door." They nodded.

Y/N could hear Mike Supplier cursing over the phone even as she had it by her side. She noticed Harry's shop was still unopened so went upstairs instead.

She knocked on the door of his apartment repeatedly until she finally heard footsteps coming towards the door. His door swung open, "Can I help you flower?" Her eyes widened.

He stood in the doorway with nothing but grey sweatpants and socks. His bare torso was littered with tattoos and his brunette hair was clipped with a tiny claw clip.

"Your p-phone," She held it out to him. His eyebrows furrowed like he had a lot of questions as to why she had his phone but he took it from her anyway and held it to his ear.

"Yeah, yeah shut up." He spoke. Y/N could still hear Mike Supplier talking on the other end. "Come by this afternoon. I'll wait outside the shop and don't wear that dodgy fucking hat this time."

The conversation ended and Y/N stood awkwardly in front of him. "Well I should go,"

"Wait," Harry stopped her "Did you steal my phone from me flower girl?"

"N-no! You left it in my apartment." She argued.

"Oh yeah," he grins like he was thinking back to being in her room last night, "Your lips go all pouty and you snore when you sleep you know that? 'S cute."

"Hey," she huffed, "I do not snore!"

"Whatever you say baby." Her cheeks warmed at the new nickname he had accidentally added to the seemingly growing collection.

"W-well who was that anyway. He was a little rude." She mumbled.

"You spoke to him?" He arched a brow, "was he rude to you?"

"He swore at me,"

"Dick." Harry muttered, "He's my supplier."

"Oh like for the shop?" She asked. Harry could have sworn he was having palpitations from how innocent she looked.

"No baby," he smirked, "a different kind of supplier."

"Oh," she said, still not fully understanding what he was getting at, "Well I better get down to the shop. My class is waiting for me."

"Sure I'll come with you." He grabbed a sweater and his jacket from the coat hanger.

"Wait, what? No."

"I'm bored and I want to hang out with you." He shrugs, "I don't see how that's a problem."

"You want to hang out with me?" She couldn't make sense of it.

"Mhm," He shut the door of his apartment behind him, "Lead the way, flower girl."

Y/N argued with him as they walked back downstairs. She tried to push him out of the shop before he could even step foot inside but she was too small for his 6ft frame and he gently grabbed her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, stepping into the shop.

All eyes turned in their direction. Y/N blushed and stuttered as she said, "L-ladies, this is my neighbour."

"Hi, I'm Harry." He said from behind.

The ladies looked confused and then concerned and then suddenly they were grinning ear to ear, slipping out of their seats to welcome their new guest.

"Oh Harry, you look as old as my boy! It's so lovely to meet you." Mildred, one of the elder ladies said.

"Nice to meet you too." He spoke in a warm, almost flirtatious way.

Y/N stood there in shock, her mouth opening and closing like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kathy and Lucy had already sat him in between them both and got him the things he needed to weave a basket.

"Are you interested in flowers Harry?" Julia asked.

He looked across the table over at Y/N whose cheeks seemed to be a shade of red they'd never even been before. "Only one."

"Oh well Y/N's an excellent teacher. We're making hanging baskets to plant daffodils in them for the spring."

"Hmm I guess I've come to the best place to learn then." His eyes remained fixed on Y/N who defeatedly picked up her basket to show Harry exactly how to make one himself.

"How are you so good at this?" Y/N whispered in awe as Harry finished his basket.

"These hands are good with fiddly things." He says.

"Oh that's wonderful Harry!" Kathy exclaimed, "You could take over Y/N's job. Might help her out and she can finally have a much deserved rest."

"S that right? You tired flower?" Harry murmured when he saw Y/N's eyes opening and closing as she leant against the desk.

"Not tried at all," she lied but Harry seemed to see right through her.

"Hmm," he frowned which immediately had Y/N standing straight and trying to disguise her exhaustion a little better.

"You hungry?" A tall shadow loomed in front of Y/N as she sat at the desk, processing payments for her classes and labelling the baskets for the ladies to take home.

She looked up and saw Harry, his voice now a familiarity after the last almost twenty four hours since she had met him. "A-a little." She decided not to lie this time since apparently, she was much easier to read than she thought.

"I've got food upstairs, wanna come up?" He asks.

"A-Are you sure?" 

"C'mon little flower, I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't mean it." With a nod, Y/N locked up the shop for lunch and followed Harry up to his apartment. When she stepped inside, it was completely different to how it had been last night. 

It was clean and tidy. A few boxes were lying on the carpeted floor of his open living room here and there, but for the most part, it was pretty neat. Y/N's eyes were immediately taken by the prints hanging up on the wall. 

"These are incredible." She gasped, feeling particularly fond of a line drawing of a woman. 

"It's my mother," He stood next to her, looking up at the drawing with her. 

"You drew it?" She asked, wide-eyed.

"Mhm," He hummed. 

"Wow, no wonder you're a tattoo artist," She glanced at the intricate tattoos littered on his arms. 

"Ever thought of getting one yourself?" He asked. 

"N-Not really, I'm no good with needles." She said, rather sheepishly. 

He smirked, "Let's get some food in that tummy." 

Twenty minutes later, Y/N and Harry sat on the small two-person couch eating sandwiches and a fruit salad they had prepared together in Harry's even smaller kitchen. Y/N giggled as Harry threw a grape into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

"T-tell me about your tattoos," Y/N insisted after taking a bite out of a strawberry. Harry's eyes looked down at her lips and back to her big, doe eyes. "What does this one mean?" She questioned, pointing to the words written in Hebrew.

"M' sisters name," He starts, "And that says 'Can I stay?'" 

"Hmm, you have a lot of hearts." She said, fingers lightly touching the human heart on his arm. 

"I have a lot of love." He grins, cheekily, like he knew the line was cheesy but wanted to use it anyway. He was glad he did from the smile it had formed on Y/N's face.

Y/N hadn't realised how close they had gotten until she felt his breath on her neck.  Her voice wavers slightly as she tries not to think too much about it, "And what about this one," She points to the rose, her fingers tracing the petals. 

"I did that one myself," He murmured, lips close to her ear. 

"You did?" She said but it came out more as a whisper. She seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, her brain turning to mush and all her thoughts suddenly turning into Harry. 

"Mhm," She glanced up and his deep, green eyes were already boring into her. Her eyes darted down to his lips and then back up again. "You're pretty," He mumbled, loud enough so she could hear.

She shook her head, "I-I don't think so," She was suddenly flustered and confused and wondering why her brain was not acting the way it usually did. 

"I know so," His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and she shudders when his fingertips brush against her cheek. Slowly his head inches forward and the nearer he gets it feels as though more oxygen leaves the room. "Relax," He whispers, touching her hand, "You're okay flower girl."

"H-Harry, I-I've never kissed anyone before." She admits, embarrassment flooding her. 

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. 

"O-oh, it's just that... I've never been k-kissed before."

"By anyone?" She nods. "Impossible." He whispers.

"We can stop if you want to," He says, his voice gentle and comforting.

"No," She wraps her small fingers around his wrist before he pulls away, "I-I want to,"

"Want to what?" He smirks, "You've gotta tell me baby."

"I want to k-kiss you," She blushes, it's all she seems to do around him.

"Cute," He murmurs before his lips press to hers.

Y/N's not sure what to do at first, her eyes are open and shock courses through her, but Harry's lips move against hers and he breathes, "Relax flower," He insists and she does. 

Her eyes flutter shut and she mimics his movements. What he gives, she gives right back and a small whimper leaves her when he kisses her even harder. She starts to lose her breath with how long they kiss for but she's far too deep, floating too much, to pull away. She grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in closer, a groan eliciting from somewhere deep inside him. "Baby," The name escapes his lips and a shiver runs through her. 

With panting breaths, she pulls away and so does he. Her face is flushed and his lips are pink, "You okay?" Is the first thing he asks, receiving a nod. "I think 'm a little bit obsessed with you." He confesses.

"M-Me?" She couldn't believe what he was saying. 

"Don't think I've ever wanted anything more," He looks away like being vulnerable is a foreign thing for him.

"Why?" She can't help but ask.

He shrugs, "Sometimes it just is." 

She thinks on his words before replying, "Can we kiss again?" 

Harry chuckles, "Kiss me all you want flower."

. . .

Y/N had a permanent smile on her face the next day as she went back to work. People asked her what was making her so happy and she was constantly finding things to lie about instead of speaking the name of the tattooed boy next door. 

An hour before lunch, the postman came to deliver her new ribbons for the bouquets and accidentally dropped off a package meant for Harry. Y/N couldn't help but smile at his name written on a brown box. 

"Give me a second ladies, I'm just going to pop next door." Y/N grinned, ignoring the knowing looks of the ladies she was teaching. 

As Y/N walked next door, her confidence seemed to shrink with every step. She realised she had yet to go to Harry's tattoo shop when he was actually working and she knew she would stick out like a sore thumb once she took a step inside. She was wearing a lilac dress and white heels, of course, she was going to stand out.

The bell rang as she stepped inside and a few customers looked up, some of them doing a double take at the small girl. Music played through the speakers but it was a lot less quiet compared to the first day Harry's shop had opened. 

Footsteps walked on the wooden floorboards and Harry walked out from the back room. His eyes caught sight of Y/N and his frown immediately turned into a smile. He held his arms out for her and she quickly walked into his embrace. "Hi flower," He murmured into her hair. 

"I came to drop off your package," She held out the box to him when he let her out of his arms.

"Oh," He took the package from her, "That's all?"

She bit back a smile, "Mmm, I may have something very important to tell you," She gave him a not-so-subtle wink.

He grinned, almost wickedly, "Well, do follow me this way to tell me this very important thing," He led her way from the waiting area and somewhere closed off and hidden from everywhere else. 

When they were alone, he grabbed her hips and hoisted her up onto a countertop, knocking things over. "Harry," She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Shhh no more talking baby," He said before kissing her lips that he spent all night dreaming about. Their mouths were wet and hot against each other as they made out in a closet hidden away from Harry's customers.

His hands slid down her back and around her waist, pinching her hips, "Did you wear this dress f' me baby?" He murmured, the tone of his voice sending shivers up Y/N's spine. 

"Wanted to be pretty for you." She told him. She had spent all morning trying to find a nice outfit to wear, not only for work but for when she saw Harry too.

"Fuck," He groaned against her lips, "Where have you been all my life?" 

Y/N felt like a teenage girl getting all flustered and hot over a boy. She'd never experienced being with someone in this way before and now she had a taste for it and couldn't get enough of him. She had left Harry's apartment yesterday in a daze and she felt like she was still floating from the high of her first kiss. 

He stood in between her legs and she subconsciously rolled her hips against him. She gasped in both shock and at the feeling of him against her, "You're okay baby," He soothed her, sensing her confusion.

"Feels good huh?" He pulled her hips into him again and she felt a moan bubble in her throat. "Have you ever touched yourself Y/N?" He wondered. 

She froze, "N-no," She confessed, embarrassed. 

"Nothing to be ashamed of baby," He comforts her, his words soothing the insecure part of her. He kissed her lips softly, "Can I visit you this evening?"

She nods without even thinking about it, "Please," 

He smirks, "Please baby? Please? What are you asking for?"

She didn't know, her mind was foggy and all she could see was him, "Everything." 

His eyes darkened but his smirk never left, "'M polite little flower."

"Harry," She whined, burying her face in his neck. 

Harry laughed and cupped the back of her with his hand, kissing her forehead, "I'll come visit tonight and you better be wearing those cute pyjamas," He knew she was smiling because he could feel her lips against his neck. 

That evening after Y/N had closed the shop, she ran upstairs to her apartment and kicked off her heels. She ran around her living room, hiding things she didn't want Harry to see and flinging dirty laundry into the washing basket. 

She walked into her very pink bedroom and pulled out her pyjamas, happy to finally be wearing something comfortable. She spritzed some of her favourite perfume and rubbed vanilla lotion into her skin. 

Y/N sat on her sofa with Marshel seated by her feet on the carpeted floor. She switched on the TV and watched a few episodes of friends whilst continuing to finish her knitting project - she was making a blanket since one of the ladies from her group was pregnant and would be giving birth very soon. 

She fought to keep her eyes open as she waited for Harry to knock on her door. His shop was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago so she assumed he'd be here by now. 

Slowly, an hour had gone by and Y/N was getting worried. Her mind spun with insecurities and a sudden fear that something might have happened to Harry. She placed her knitting project on her coffee table and patted Marshel on the head. She walked to the door and slid her sock covered feet into her brown UGG boots. 

The shop was not its usual LED red colour when she came to stand in front of the window, instead it was neon blue. Y/N frowned when she heard music playing from inside and checked to see whether the door was open.

Her hand pushed the door handle, the door swinging open and the muffled music suddenly became coherent. She could hear voices coming from the back room where Harry tattooed his customers.

Walking towards the sound, Y/N eventually caught the sound of Harry's voice amongst the group of people chatting. Her shoulders relaxed at the thought of him being here, at least she knew she'd be okay if he was there with her. 

Turning the corner, her eyes landed on Harry with two other tattooed men, smoking something that - in Y/N's opinion - smelt a little strange. 

Harry must have sensed her presence as he turned his head and caught sight of her hiding behind the corner wall. He smiled, "Hey flower," 

"Hi," She murmured, feeling embarassed. 

"C'mere," He held out his arm for her and she scurried towards him, attaching herself to him by snuggling her body into his side. He put an arm around her, kissing her forehead. "I thought I was meeting you upstairs?"

Y/N frowned, "You took too long,"

He smirked, "M impatient girl," He nodded towards the two men he was talking to, "Y/N, these are 'm friends, Mike and Dan."

"Mike supplier," Y/N whispered, finally putting a face to the name of the man she had spoken to on Harry's phone.

He was tall and bald with a beard and looked to be in his forties. Like Harry, he also had tattoos but not nearly as much. Beside him was Dan who looked closer in age to Harry, maybe a little older. He was blonde but wore a cap on his head and a silver chain around his neck. 

After Harry had finished smoking with his friends, he said his goodbyes and led Y/N upstairs back to her apartment. "What were you smoking? It smelt funny," Y/N asked,"

Harry fell back onto the couch and pulled her down with him. She lay on top of him, the smell of the smoke still lingering on his clothes. "'S just a bit of weed." He confessed.

Y/N gasped, "Weed? Is that legal?" 

Harry looked at her amused, "Not here but it doesn't do much harm to me, been smoking it for ages." He twirled a piece of hair around his finger, "Does that bother you?"

She thought about it but the idea didn't really seem to phase her. As long as he was being safe and was using it in a healthy sort of way, she didn't mind. "N-no, not at all." Harry's smile widened into a grin. He didn't hesitate to kiss her, feeling her soft lips which had recently become his new obsession. They were so soft and red and kissable and made just for him. 

Y/N didn't want him to stop kissing her whenever he did. She loved the feeling of her eyes fluttering shut and all of her senses just filling up with him. Harry pulled away, still cupping her cheek in his hand. Y/N's chest heaved up and down against him as she tried to catch her breath, "Breathe, flower." His heart ached when she looked up at him with swollen red lips, trying to catch her breath. "Lose your breath a little bit huh?"

"A little," She huffed. 

"You're too cute." 

Y/N kissed him again once she had caught enough air again. Harry sat up, pulling on the roots of her hair as her legs wrapped around him so she was straddling him. She whimpered, tugging on the fabric of his t-shirt.

"What do you want baby?" Harry mumbles against her parted lips. 

"Take it off," She whispers, pulling on his shirt. 

Harry does as he's told, pulling his shirt up over his head and revealing his muscular, tattoed torso. Y/N's eyes widened. She'd never seen something so beautiful, he looked as though he was one of those marble statues in a museum. "Eyes on me baby," Harry smiled, pushing her chin up with his finger so her eyes were looking directly into his. "What now?"

"I-I-I don't know," She blushed, losing her confidence now that they were no longer kissing. 

"We don't have to do anything you don't want." He looked at her with a soft gaze.

"I-I don't want to disappoint you." She admits, her insecurities coming to the surface. 

"Couldn't disappoint me baby, ever." She smiles, feeling secure in his words and his hold. Y/N leans forward and rubs her cheek against his chest. Harry's hands go beneath the tank top of her pyjamas, brushing her bare back. "If it helps I've never done this before."

She's shocked but she tries to hide it, "W-what do you mean?"

"Been intimate with someone." 

She smiled. 

She really, really liked him.

. . .

For weeks after, Y/N was obsessed with two things. 

Her flower shop and her tattooed boyfriend next door.

When she wasn't working, she was with Harry, either cooking in his apartment or cuddling together on the couch in her living room. Harry had also developed a new taste for basket weaving, joining in on Y/N's Sunday classes with the elderly ladies in the morning. 

In the short time they had known each other, Y/N had come to learn that Harry wasn't a morning person but he never missed a Sunday class even when he was exhausted from the busy day before at the tattoo shop. He would stumble downstairs with dishevelled hair and sleepy eyes in sweatpants and a hoodie, sitting in his seat between Mildred and Julia as they fussed over him. 

Y/N had also grown a love for kissing Harry at every opportunity. She'd take many five-minute breaks, walking over to the tattoo shop and kissing Harry in the cupboard or visiting him in the alleyway behind the building where they'd make out against the brick wall. Even Harry had an addiction to his girlfriend's very kissable lips, sneaking out of his shop in between appointments to smother her in kisses in the storage cupboard. 

"Hey Marshy little fur ball," Y/N bit back a grin when she heard the door of her apartment open and the familiar gruff voice speak to her little cat. 

She swung her legs over her bed and paused the movie she was watching, running to the front door and leaping into his arms, "Hi flower," Harry murmured, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. 

Y/N nuzzled her face against his jumper and squeezed him tightly, "Hi Harry," She sighed, blissfully.

"Wanted to come see ya, hope tha's okay." He kissed her quickly. 

"Course, I was watching a film in my room." She tugged on his hand and lead him to her bedroom. 

Harry had spent nights in Y/N's room before. Sometimes he would ask her if it was okay if he took a nap in her bed whenever he finished work early because it was much comfier than his. She'd find him curled up under her blankets, hugging one of her stuffed animals to his chest with the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

Harry removes his sweatshirt, leaving him in only sweatpants, before he crawls into bed and pats the spot beside him. Y/N turns on the movie but knows that neither of them has any plans of watching it. 

With the amount of kissing they had been doing, Y/N hoped she had gotten a lot better. She realised Harry would often make small, quiet noises whenever she did something he liked, like tugging on his hair or sticking her tongue in his mouth. 

It wasn't long before they were making out again on her bed. Her leg hooked around his hip and her hands in his hair as he gripped her waist, every now and then he would squeeze her ass remembering the first time he did it and how much she loved it from the soft moans that left her. 

Y/N thought that kissing Harry was the best thing in the entire world but what she didn't know was that Harry had plenty more up his sleeve. 

His hand slid from her waist and down to her bare thigh - she was only wearing pyjama shorts since her apartment was pretty warm. He squeezed her softly, "Can I feel you baby?" He asked.

Y/N froze, not sure how to react. "I-I-"

Harry cupped her cheek, "I know," He already knew what she was thinking before she even said anything, "We can carry on doing what we're doing if you prefer. It's no rush." 

"N-no," She grabbed his wrist in both her hands. Y/N was a virgin but she wasn't afraid... Just inexperienced and that made her a little wary. But with Harry, she knew she wanted to allow that part of herself to him. Maybe not the whole thing but a little something. 

"Y-you can feel me... I-if you like." She said, awkwardly. 

Harry chuckles, "What about if you like, hmm?" His fingertip traced circles on her thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

"I-I would l-like that p-please." She whispered.

Harry grinned, "Only because you're so polite sweet girl."

Harry's arm slides between her legs and hooks his fingers around her pyjamas bottoms to pull them down her legs. Y/N inwardly praised herself for shaving the night before yet she was pretty sure Harry wouldn't mind either way. Harry tuts when he sees her underwear, "Did m' little flower get all wet from kissing on daddy?" 

She felt the air leave the room and her body heat at the nickname. It was so dirty and yet she felt herself aching from his words. "Y-yes," She breathes. 

"Yes what baby?" He kisses up her thigh. 

"Yes daddy," She murmurs. 

Harry eyes darken as he looks down between her thighs, "My good, polite girl." He pinches the flesh on her thigh and she feels her chest heave.  Y/N gasps for air when his fingers trace the fabric of her underwear and her heart races even more when he moves her underwear to the side to see a part of herself no one had ever seen before.

"Fuck me," He whispers under his breath. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen." 

"R-really?" Y/N blushes, her cheeks hot.

"Don't think I've ever seen something so pretty." 

"T-thank you, daddy." She whispers the last part but it doesn't stop the bulge from growing in Harry's sweatpants. 

"Have you always been this needy when we kiss baby?" Harry murmured in her ear as his fingers part her pussy. He tries to stop himself from groaning at the slick wetness that coats his fingers.

Y/N gasps at the new feeling but is immediately overcome by pleasure as Harry begins to move his finger back up to her clit, "Harry," She whimpers. 

Harry's quick to pull his hand away, "Nuh uh baby, that's not my name."

Y/N's head was all dizzy but she managed to reply, "Daddy, please," She whines.

"Barely even touched you and you're already whining," He tuts before rubbing his thumb over her clit and making small, slow circles. Y/N whimpers at the new sensation of intense pleasure. "Does that feel good flower?" He asks, nipping her ear as he murmurs against it. 

"S-so good- so good daddy, so, so good." She babbles as he continues to tease her clit with his thumb. 

"Who'd have thought I had such a naughty girl hmm?" She arches into his touch as he moves his finger in a certain way. She wonders how she managed to go on for so long without feeling something so blissfully delightful. 

"Put your hand here baby," Harry instructs, reaching for her hand that wasn't currently scrunching the duvet, and placing it flat over the top of his, "Let me show you how to touch yourself. Watch daddy," Y/N's eyes look down to see his gold ring-clad fingers drenched in her wetness, his tattooed hand moving in circles as her rubs her clit. "This is how I want you to touch yourself when you think of me baby and when you're good, I'll make your perfect, little hole feel good too." Y/N gasps and clenches when he brushes a finger against her hole. 

"I-I'm good-Please, I'm good," She mewls and her hand grips his wrist instead. She uses it as leverage to twist and turn into him, the pleasure overwhelmingly good she can't help but hide her face in his neck. 

"You are good," He kisses her forehead, "My good girl." She nods at his praise, eyes shut. 

Harry forces her legs a part and continues to pleasure her in a way she didn't know about until today. She writhes and moans beneath his touch as he whispers dirty things into her ear. "I want you to cum baby, think you can do that?" 

"Mhm," She sighs, already feeling the bubble of pressure in her tummy. "F-feels - feel's s-so-" 

"Feel good m'love?" He coos, "Cum f' me. Cum f' daddy, wanna see you soak my hand." 

At his words, Y/N whimpers as she becomes increasingly sensitive the more he circles her clit. Harry feels as though he's about to explode as he watches her cheeks flush pink and she grinds her pussy against his hand as she rides out her orgasm. "That's it my little flower, so good." He praises her, feeling her shudder as she finishes coming down from her high.

She's panting heavily as Harry slides her panties back into place. "You okay?" Harry checks, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Y/N nods and instantly feels embarrassed, hiding herself in the crook of his neck. Harry chuckles, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're lying," Y/N says, her voice muffled against him.

"Never gonna lie to you flower, never." He promises. 

Y/N removes herself from her hiding place and looks up at him. Harry's heart bursts in his chest when she sees her sleepy, blissful gaze. He wonders where this girl has been all his life and how he managed to go this long without her. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with her but that was a conversation for another day.

"W-what about you?" Y/N looks down and sees the very noticeable bulge in his trousers. 

Harry shakes his head, "Not today," He smiles, "We have plenty of time to experiment some more but think you've had enough experimenting for one night."

"Me too," Y/N curls into his side, not bothering to put her pyjama bottoms back on. "Having sex is exhausting." 

"We didn't even have sex, silly girl." Harry laughs.

"Felt like it," She mumbles against him.

"I'm that good huh?" He grins, cheekily, "Just you wait baby,"

"The best," She slurs, yawning, "M so tired." 

"Yeah? You sleepy baby?" He kisses her forehead. "Get some sleep m'love," He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his chest. 

"I like you very much Harry," She whispers, sleepily. 

"I like you very much too." Harry replies, holding her close.

psa don't let strangers into your room... actually don't let anyone into your room

[omartinyosef]

ST5 POTENTIAL SPOILERS!!!

GUYS I FOUND THIS ON REDDIT AND ACTUALLY IT'S QUITE INTERESTING

ST5 Leaks/Fleaks

Gen Plot

Season picks up briefly where we left off in 1986 before jumping into either late 1987 or early 1988. The season is contained entirely in apocalyptic Hawkins. Things with the government are shaky. Owens doesn't appear in the beginning of the season and it's unclear if he's returning, but Ellen Stinson is the new Owens. Hawkins is like a combination of the UD and Kamchatka.

Labyrinths/Mazes being important to both the supernatural plot and the interpersonal relationships. They're inherently linked.

Two songs to be featured are 'Listen to Your Heart' and 'Alone,' both of which were apparently foreshadowed in a previous conversation between Hopper and Joyce, similar to how Hopper's "I'm the puppet, you're the master" to Joyce in S3 basically foreshadowed Eddie's 'Master of Puppets' in S4.

S1 and 2 scenes being referenced are "Nancy and Mike's conversation in the bathtub" and "Hopper + Lando Calrissian"

Lots of importance in COLOR CODING and blocking from the final shot of S4, and a good chunk is told in the costuming—like passing the torch from one character to another as their arcs overlap. For example, Hopper and Will share the "am I the curse and therefore putting my loved ones at risk by being near them?" sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, whereas Eleven stands out because she's the first one coming into her own this season. The white for her represents shedding of false skins.

Character duos this season will be primarily dressed in colors of blue/green and yellow/red.

There's lots of symbolism and foreshadowing for every character in S5 from the moment Will touches his neck in the last sequence of S4.

S4 focused on themes of lies and miscommunication, and everyone is going to have to work through these lies before they can defeat Vecna.

Murray and Argyle are both back. Dimitri and Yuri don't seem to be in the beginning of the season.

One thing left unresolved with the Russian plot. Something important will happen involving the machine and the green liquid from the Starcourt bunker. Reference of Dustin vowing to die with Steve when they initially discovered it.

Hopper, Joyce, Mike, Will, and El had to be away from Hawkins, otherwise Vecna wouldn't have won.

An important death that they're nervous about given the reception to Eddie (not Joyce or Jonathan—see details below).

Eleven

We'll see her unlike we've seen her before. A badass who doesn't take shit from anyone. Not a Monster, not a Hero, Jane. Think: adult El could be headed for a Charles Xavier type role.

Erica, Lucas, and El will share scenes together.

El has significant blocking and development with many characters this season.

Max, Eleven & Max

The "kaleidoscope of colors" from a script the writers posted makes a feature in both the scene where young El remembers her mother's love in order to defeat Henry in the lab, as well as the scene where El revives Max. This is significant because it's the first time we see El using her powers on someone in a non-violent way.

El was able to revive Max because of she, herself, being revived in the bunker by Brenner and Co. It's a show, don't tell moment from the writers.

Max getting Vecna'd was foreshadowed in the beginning of 2x01.

Will, Henry/Vecna, The UD

Filming was supposed to commence mid-June, but Noah and Jamie were set to begin in May due to more complicated costuming. Will is going to require heavy prosthetics at some point.

Will's character design is blocked in three stages. The more the UD bleeds into Hawkins, the more connected to it he feels. The gates being open will physically influence him, especially when he's not as mentally strong.

He's kind of like "the card up Vecna's sleeve."

It appears they want to confuse the audience about Will.

Will wrestling with his own morality

Henry/Will mirrors. Will will sympathize with Henry because, unlike El, he knows how and what Henry thinks, and he can feel him.

Vecna and Will are very similar, but the difference is Will is made stronger by love not hate. They will play into that duality.

Vecna was nerfed in S4 compared to how we see him in S5. He'll be much stronger.

At the beginning, he'll be taking a hiatus while he plans how to divide and conquer now that everyone's back together in Hawkins.

Soteria will be the key to saving Will. If they want Will to be untraceable to Henry, they'll have to insert it into his neck and it'll be painful. Vecna not having access to Will fucks up his ability to leave the UD.

Byler/Mileven Triangle

Apparently, it's complicated and up in the air as of now.

Mike dealing with guilt this season. He feels guilty/responsibility for El. He feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.

Will and Mike to spend a good chunk of the season together based on character designs and blocking.

Will telling El that Mike won't like being lied to comes back with the painting. During a pre-time jump scene in 5x01, while everyone's together plotting how to defeat Vecna and brainstorming how to save Max, Mike brings up the painting El commissioned for a D&D analogy. Will has to pull Mike aside and confess he lied about El commissioning the painting. Mike gets angry, because he doesn't know about Will's feelings and feels embarrassed that Will thought he was that pathetic he needed to be given a pep talk. Their own version of a "fight you can't come back from." Immediately after their fight, we get the time skip.

Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps. After the time jump, he and El won't be talking as much because he's keeping the details about Will's painting from her. She's gonna ask what's wrong between him and Will, and he lies/is very vague.

Joyce, Hopper, Jopper

Joyce feels immense guilt/responsible over Bob's death since she's the one that asked him to help in S2, which is why she pushed Hopper away at first.

Hopper has a secret from S1 that was never addressed, and it comes back to haunt him.

Joyce sustains an injury in S5 that is reminiscent of the way someone was injured in S3, but it isn't critical and she'll be okay.

Jopper are the most established couple after the time jump. Lots of bickering still, but Hopper trusts Joyce more than he ever has.

Jonathan, Nancy, Jancy

So far, does not seem like a breakup is happening.

Jonathan's still lying about the college letter and distant because of it, and Nancy thinks he's not as into the relationship and that there might be someone else. She confronts him, which leads to a talk. She's touched by the lengths he would go to try and protect her and any of their future children even from himself.

A moment where we're led to believe Jonathan dies but doesn't, like Hopper in S3.

Hopper-Byers Family

These five characters slowly unraveling their arcs together and have always been closely linked. Their perfect endings are together.

We see the family combining, especially in relation to El.

Joyce gets to witness Hopper being paternal and tender towards the boys.

Scenes with Joyce, Jonathan, and Will

Hopper being back lifts a weight off Jonathan's shoulders.

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

So, now time to shine.

''(...) sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, (...)''

Okay. How did we see Nancy in S4? Confused. Confused with the love triangle between Jonathan, her and Steve. Jonathan is her actual boyfriend. And Steve is her posible love interest again.

So, putting this in byler language: Nancy = Mike Jonathan = Eleven Will = Steve

If Mike's and Nancy's character's clothing is important at this point of the time line and that means they feel similar feelings, this could mean that byler has a chance. BUT then we read this: ''(...) He (Mike) feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.'' And

''Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps.''

THIS LITERALLY MEANS BYLER. FOR REAL. Like byler could be endgame. Also, remember Eleven's injury in S3? Do you remember the leak of a shoe covered in blood?

It's Joyce. ALSO YOU CAN READ THAT WE'LL HAVE SCENES BEFORE THE TIME JUMP. And here it comes. Look at this freaking hair:

Does this look more like this

or this?

The season 4 bowl cut right? So maybe this is right in some part? I dont know. But that could make sense why Will is wearing Mike's pants, because his clothes were in California by that moment. But i really do think that the pic that was leaked a few days ago is before the time jump.

Im so late with this info haha :) but i kinda think some things here make sense. Even if this is too well explained to be a leak.

[cloginthedrain]

growing pains (remus lupin x reader)

summary: out of the angst and discomfort of her teenage years, reader finally allows herself to pursue remus.

masterlist

word count: 2125

content warning/notes: writer, luna lovegood-ish/sad fem!reader. friends to lovers. implied sex. lots of reminiscing on remus & reader's hogwarts years. no voldemort/wizarding war au.

other notes: hi!! im back, writing remus for the first time?? that's exciting. i've been reading marauder fanfic for so long, it's only fitting! hope u enjoy <3

—

In the dwindling daylight, you’re dawdling beside Remus, admiring your new, shiny Mary Jane’s. You’re particularly mesmerized by their intricate yellow stitching and pretty brass buckles. You also couldn’t help but admire the way your forest green, pleated trousers flowed outward above your shoes in just the way you imagined. You hum happily along cobblestoned streets and lush waving leaves, with Remus’ brown trousers in your peripheral. Your arm’s tucked into his as he guides you back to your flat as you babble about everything and nothing.

Remus can’t help but smile at the sight. You’ve been wielding a new sort of confidence lately, finally out of the growing pains and fits of discomfort of your late teens; you’re finally becoming who you imagined you would be.

Even so, not much has changed since Hogwarts. Back then, Remus would guide you on walks to Care of Magical Creatures or to the Greenhouse for Herbology when the sun was too bright and your eyes were still sleepy. You’d walk alongside Remus, arms linked, and your eyes shut, allowing him to guide you along.

Admittedly, your years at Hogwarts weren’t your finest. You were a basket case—chain-smoking and staining your hand with ink writing angsty poetry, all while almost exclusively wearing Remus’ grey, v-neck pullover or, when you were seeing him, Sirius’ brown leather jacket.

Now, you’re doing what you had always wanted. You’re a proper writer and not for shoddy publications like the Daily Prophet, but for proper, reputable publications: Muggle literary magazines and indie Wizarding publications. It’s exhilarating and exhausting.

You are always writing.

Earlier, your shoulder was hunched under the weight of your canvas messenger bag which contained your journal, a more than ample number of pens, and a book or two. This behemoth of a bag, however, is now on Remus’ shoulder. He’s walking you home from his and Sirius’ flat. You took advantage of the opportunity for company and a change of scenery, otherwise you’d go stir-crazy stewing in your flat, waiting for words to flow out of your quill.

Remus, like always, is bugging you to read your latest project—“I know you’re working on something. Tell me about it.”

“I can’t! It takes the fun out of it for me.”

“How so?” His arm tightens around yours.

Remus knows you better than anyone, and how you would say just about anything to avoid sharing your writing, even if it entered the realm of inanity. He enjoyed watching you squirm, word-vomiting a flimsy yet creative excuse on the spot. It was all so silly; you’d end up showing it to him anyway. Even so, Remus wondered what the excuse would be this time.

“If I tell you what it’s about, you’re going to form assumptions and opinions,” you began, weaving your words carefully. “I want you to have an open, unadulterated mind.”

“Isn’t that what reading is about? Confronting your preconceptions against what someone else has written—”

“Nuh uh,” you say petulantly. Perhaps he had a point, but you were too stubborn to admit it.

“Point taken,” Remus crumbles. “We’ll do it your way.” Whatever you want.

“Good,” you bounce. “It really is better that way.”

“If you say so bug.”

You beam. You adore the nicknames he gave you, but this one above all. From any other man, you might scrunch your nose, maybe roll your eyes, but this is Remus. He says it so frequently but so sparingly, so you cherish every time he says it. Always so sweetly, so kindly.

—

Now, you’re on your doorstep, with Remus the step below.

You can help but notice Remus’ eyes briefly flicker down to your lips.

“You should come inside,” your lips twitch up kindly.

Remus’ eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything.

“No?” you ask, a bit wounded.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

“Cool, maybe we can read what I’m working on, but no promises.”.

“Then what was all this business about an open, unadulterated mind, bug?!” He already knows the answer.

“I just like making you crazy, Remus,” you laugh.

“You’re certainly succeeding.”

“Not nice!”

“Nor is intentionally driving your best mate mad. You’re like my personal, portable psychological tormentor.”

“Portable?” you scrunch your eyebrows.

“Quite,” he says, lacing his fingers in-between yours, and then steps beside you, to drag you along. “Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cold!”

—

You live for the way Remus toes the line. You know he fancies you, part of you thinks he’s always had. He lets you get away with murder, even now—you were always stealing off his plate, wearing his clothes, hanging off of him, and sleeping with his friends. You didn’t think of it that way then, but you certainly recognize what you did now. There’s only one way he might’ve allowed it. You were a shitty friend.

You dated James very briefly in your fifth year, but you were never able to achieve the intimacy you and Remus shared. In fact, it was the very source of irreconcilable differences with James, so you resolved to be justfriends. “It’s just better this way,” James had said, and you had to agree. You, the boys, and Lily were the best of friends; you even watched little Harry from time to time.

Later, in your sixth and seventh year, you had an undefined, off-and-on situationship with Sirius. You both had a flare for the dramatic, and quite frankly, Sirius was the inspiration for much of your writing. He’d break it off, or you’d break it off, and you’d sit in your dormitory with smudgy mascara and in yesterday’s uniform as the words would flow out of your quill like a sybil possessed, cursing his smudgy “guy-liner”, as he ironically called it, and his long, dark wavy hair. Sirius rocked it, and he knew it. You hypothesised he was specifically put on this godforsaken Earth to drive you up the wall. He was cryptic, quiet, scheming, but also boisterous and beaming. In many ways, he was hard not to romanticize his contradictory nature. He was certainly a sight to behold. You had so much in common; in fact, you were too similar. Two negatives.

Even so, nobody understands you as well as Remus. You two are simply magnetic.

You both read a tremendous amount. During summers and holidays spent away from Hogwarts, Remus was owling you both Muggle and Wizard books for you to read and mark up. Remus had already marked it up every book he sent, so you’d respond to his margin notes both serious and silly, and send it back.

During the school year, you were glued to his side. You and Remus spent many late nights in the Gryffindor Common Room, cramming for exams or toiling over essays, drinking hot cocoa, quizzing one another or proofreading. You also spent most mornings after the full moon in the Hospital Wing with Remus, because well, you couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone. You were very into Astronomy and, as a witch with a particular love of Astrology, with your special attention the Lunar cycle, you quickly pieced together Remus’ lycanthropy. You came from a very progressive Wizarding family, so you accepted Remus without question. How couldn’t you?

Because you excelled at Divination class, you also often helped Remus interpret his cards when working with Tarot. When Remus was struggling with palmistry, you recall spending one afternoon tracing Remus’ palm in the grass by the Black Lake. You could barely elaborate on your interpretation on his palm lines, stumbling and blushing profusely. You remember his heavy breath with every stroke along the lines of his palm, how his mouth slightly ajar.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t like him too, but back then, you would never entertain the thought. You loved being his friend. It was so easy. Words were almost superfluous. Most of the time either of you could glance at the other and you’d know exactly what the other was thinking. You’ve talked so much shit through knowing glances. You could be unapologetically you with him. Why complicate your friendship with a relationship?

—

You unlock the door and slide off your Mary Janes, pull of your coat, and then your rings and your beaded bracelets.

 “It’s like you’re shedding skin,” remarks Remus who already placed his shoes neatly by the door and his coat on the rack. Your bag sits on small table by the door.

“Precisely. Come on, I’ll make us hot cocoa, with extra marshmallows.”

“Sold.”

Walking carefully, you bring two mugs filled to the brim with marshmallows to the coffee table, and then you and Remus both squish onto your very well-loved couch. Remus set a record on the turntable.

“Thanks bug,” Remus said casually before slurping up some marshmallows. He’s particularly handsome today. He is wearing the red, striped jumper you bought him at the charity shop down the road. You’re pleased. He’s always looked much better in red that you were.

Under the low-light, you realize that Remus is nervous. He’s bouncing his leg.

You rest your head in your hand, and you look at Remus some more. You wanted to trace his face the same way you traced his palm on the Black Lake, across the bridge of his nose to his eyes, along his lightly freckled cheeks. You wanted to thumb his pretty, long lashes, run your finger through his mousy brown hair.

“What?” Remus asks sheepishly behind his mug, his lips slightly crusted with chocolate.

“Nothing,” you hum contentedly, the corner of your lips twitching upward.

Remus just stares at you. “Okay, weirdo.”

He almost disregards you, that is, until you let your eyes wander all over his face, searching for some sort of permission. That’s when Remus’ eyes flicker back down your lips, and they stay there.

You lean in so close you can feel his breath tickle your lips.

Remus gently tucks your stray hair back and cradles your face, thumbing the soft skin along your jaw. Even though you know he’s going to kiss you, you can’t help but feel stunned when he connects your lips suddenly.

Despite your stupor, at once, you deepen the kiss, with open lips—sloppy and desperate. All you can think about how he tastes sweet like marshmallows.

Without interruption, Remus effortlessly tugs you onto his lap, and suddenly you’re straddling him, grazing the skin beneath the hem of his sweater.

Annoyed with the hem of his sweater, and well, the presence of his sweater in general, you tug it off, up and over Remus’ stomach, his chest, up his arms, and over his head. You were relentless.

Between kisses, Remus breathes, “You’re so… fucking… crazy.”

—

“Well, bug, that was certainly a way to get out of showing me your piece,” Remus threw himself back onto the couch, you were tucked into his side, eyeliner and mascara smudged.

“That’s a way to put it,” you say, feeling a little lighter. “But it did work.”

You stew in the silence, mentally thanking yourself for lighting a candle on the coffee table, inhaling the rosy, woody, deep red candle you concocted, littered with rose petals, lavender, and hibiscus flower. For attraction. Candle-magic was your specialty.

“This… this isn’t a one-time thing right?” Remus asks suddenly, fingers combing through your hair. “Merlin, it would crush me if it was.”

“You think so little of me,” you say quietly, suddenly feeling small, staring at the flickering flame.

“Oh no, bug you misunderstand me,” says Remus helplessly. “It’s just like I said: I’d be crushed if you didn’t want me the way I want you. I’m all in for you. I’m never quite sure with you.”

“I don’t exactly have the greatest track record…”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You did,” you pipe up.  

“God I sure did,” he laughs. “Can you blame a bloke? All of my mates! You even snogged Peter.”

“He’s a great kisser. Attentive.”

“Blegh,” Remus said, ruffling up his nose, “Not exactly something I want to be hearing.”

Your laughter dies down, and suddenly he’s asking, “…Why not me?”

“I couldn’t have you,” you reasoned plainly. “You were too good for me, too good to me.”

“Well that’s just ridiculous.”

“You think too little of yourself, Lupin.”

“You think too little of yourself, bug,” he echoes.

“Maybe.”

“I think you’re incredible, you know?”

“That I do,” you say boldly. That is, you know he thinks you’re incredible, but Remus seemed satisfied with your answer. (Maybe someone needed to knock your newfound confidence down a peg, but that somebody certainly wouldn’t be Remus.)

“Good.”

You burrow a little further into Remus, content in the warmth he radiated. You could get used to this.

—

likes and reblogs and comments appreciated! encourages me to create more content for you! <3

[alecvolturiswifeforever]

my loves 𝜗𝜚 ׅ ۫ alec volturi x reader x jane volturi

warnings: none!

tag list: @your-next-daydream @agirllovespancakes @icefrozendeadlyqueen @iloveslasher @volturi-stuff

a/n: i fear i am a little bit rusty >:( ALSO THE TWINS ARE NOT. MATES. THEY. JUST. SHARE. ONE. this is not a twincest blog

You groaned as the mattress beneath you shook, blinking your eyes open to see Alec hovering above you. Another mediocre sigh sounded as you tried to roll away in ignorance.

“Hello, sleeping beauty”

You huffed and pulled the comforter tighter around your body, combating the chilly air and the even chillier touch of one of your mates that was currently poking and prodding at your face.

“Go away-“

He smirked, loving how he was slowly riling you up even more as you tried to ignore him.

“Now, now. That’s no way to talk to your sweet, loving mate. Is it now?”

Huffing again you were about to give him an earful before you heard a voice sound out from the joint bathroom. Settling back down, the next of your mates made an appearance, your petite blonde leaning in the doorway.

“Honestly, brother. Leave our mate be. It is the middle of the night.”

Now that awoke you right out of your sleep, sitting you up abruptly.

“You what-“ staring at Jane for a moment before turning to glare at the vampire next to you who was currently trying to stifle his laughter. Speaking slowly, you continued to glower at him.

“You thought it would be funny to wake me up… in the middle of the night?”

Unable to contain it any longer, Alec laughed loudly. It was a laugh you usually adored (and didn’t hear too often) however the annoyance which bubbled across your brain had you thinking otherwise. Dropping the arm that had been holding his weight, he fell into the pillows. This continued for a moment before he calmed himself down, leaning over and reaching out to you. All the while his sister watched from afar before she sighing and began to make her way over.

Crossing your arms, you scooted away stubbornly making him pout.

“Don’t be like that sweet face, I was just teasing you.”

“Well I don’t find it very funny.” You seethed.

Jane stepped in for a moment, kneeling before you. “Now now, play nice.”

You continued to be stubborn, scooting away again when he tried to pull you back. Jane stood with an exasperated smile, lifting the covers up to your chin to tuck you in before sitting beside you. You naturally settled into her, making her brother frown even more at your abundance of affection for his sister and the lack of affection for himself. Jane giggled lightly, a light airy sound that made you smile.

“Honestly, Alec. I don’t know why you do this when you know she get’s grumpy with you every time.”

As she spoke, the blonde twin gently traced her fingertips across your face, pupils dilating and eyes softening sweetly as she admired your tired features.

Alec pressed his bottom lip out more, falling forward and pushing his forehead into your shoulder blade. Jane snickered as you sighed at him once again. Silence sounded about the room, and the three of you were still for a while before you heard his quiet apology.

“I am sorry for waking you up at this time, darling.”

Blinking back your fatigue, you looked at Jane for reassurance. She nodded, prompting your tired brain to forget about your stubbornness and finally acknowledge him.

“‘s okay” You mumbled, reaching around to gently scratch his head with one hand. He purred at the sensation, and you shuffled back into him a little more. Alec wrapped you up in his arms, spooning you and caging you against his chest while you looked up at his twin with a hopeful glimmer in your eye.

“Come cuddle?”

She sighed however didn’t fight it, joining the both of you and wrapping her arms around your waist gently. Both vampires adored you as you smiled happily, falling asleep albeit not before a soft whisper fell from your lips.

“Goodnight, my loves.”

[sapphicantics]

Two Sides of the Same Coin | Chapter One

Pairing: Regina George x fem!reader

Summary: After a nobody destroys the Jocks and insults the Queen Bee without a care or an apology, you get catapulted to the top of the social food chain next to aforementioned Queen Bee, Regina George, who now has to learn to share the spotlight with North Shore’s new bad girl. | Or alternatively, your ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude sucks you and Regina into each other’s worlds sending you down a path you never expected.

Chapter word count: 1.7k

Contents: vaping, underage drinking, mentions of weed, threats of violence, mentions of broken bones, shitty comebacks - I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed any

Note: Alright, I’m finally here with the first official chapter of Same Coin. Now I don’t know how often updates are gonna be for this fic but they will be coming, I’ve got so many ideas for it.

Intro - Chapter 2

— — — —

Menace is a bit of a crazy term to use to describe someone who sticks up for themself, but this is high school and everyone loves to exaggerate, especially boys with fragile egos who can’t stand the school knowing they got their asses kicked by a girl.

And when the girl is you — a girl who keeps to herself and minds her own fucking business like people should do any-fucking-way — oh, there’s bound to be countless descriptors thrown onto you to help rebuild their fragile masculinity.

Volatile, temperamental, crazy, psycho just to name a few.

You’re not sure how those are supposed to rebuild their masculinity, especially when you can just kick their asses and knock it right back down again. Despite those seemingly negative connotations that come with your new title, it does, admittedly, have a rather nice ring to it.

Anyways, nice ring or not, negative connotations or not, title or not, you’ve got far more important things to focus on instead.

Like why the fuck Charlie Hudson is in front of you right now.

It’s lunch and you’re under the bleachers with a strawberry flavored vape pen in hand. You take a hit and blow a cloud of smoke past your lips, raising a brow at him.

He doesn’t speak for a while probably assuming you’ll do so first, but you just take more hits from your vape and continue to stare at him. He approached you, he came over here to you, he’s interrupting your time so he must want something from you and he either tells you on his own or he doesn’t tell you at all. It makes no difference to you, but you’re definitely not gonna ask what he wants.

It’s only when you check your watch does he remember he’s on a time crunch and finally opens his mouth to speak. “I’m having a party tonight. I was thinking you could swing by for a bit.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Well, it’s gonna be a whole thing, you know?” No you don’t know, and that really doesn’t answer the question on why he’s inviting you or why he thinks you’d even want to go, but thankfully he continues. “Real big, real fun, real cool…” he reaches into his pocket, pulling his hand out and passing some cash over to you. “…really need someone to bring the Mary Jane.”

You tilt your head at him, looking between him and the cash before sliding your vape into your jacket pocket. You pluck the cash from his hands and flick through the stack. There’s a couple thousand dollars here — broken up into smaller bills because why not — a little over a thousand by your count, sixteen hundred to be exact, which is far more than you usually charge to supply a party, but if the rich boy wants to give you all his money then you’re not gonna stop him.

Perhaps, this might make you a thief to some, but really, what’s one more negative connotation added to your name?

You slip the cash in your pocket and nod. “I’ll be there at ten.”

He flashes you a smile as you walk past him and brush your shoulder against his. There’s no force behind it — okay there’s a little force behind it, not a lot though — but still he flinches at the pressure and you don’t miss the way he reaches up to rub at his shoulder out of your peripherals.

That reminds you that you need to make a few things clear. Well, one thing, specifically.

“Oh, and Charles?” He hates that name, thinks it makes him seem like an old man and what better way to ensure he knows you’re serious than calling him by his government. He seems to understand this as his eyes snap to yours and he tenses. “If North Shore wants a chance at making it to state this year, it’d be in your best interest to ensure your brother is on his best behavior tonight. Unless, of course, Lucas wants more broken bones. You got me?”

The bell rings behind you then, a seemingly ominous warning to the boy whose face is now alight with fear. You don’t bother waiting on a response, you know he’ll obey your wishes. You smirk and turn on your heels, disappearing into the school.

— — — —

You show up at 9:45.

Fifteen minutes before the agreed upon time, a rather gracious compromise in your opinion.

One you’re already starting to regret as you walk into the house.

The music is blasting so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The house stinks of sweat from the hundreds of people crowded around each other, dancing, singing, laughing, and making out.

Everyone is drunk — some way more wasted than others — but somehow they all seem to sense your presence and part for you like the Red Sea. Some of them even turn their heads to see if it’s really you before quickly looking away and whispering to their friends.

You roll your eyes at that and Charlie takes this moment to finally make his appearance, trudging his way out of the kitchen. He makes a detour once he spots you and after a quick greeting, he leads you out to the backyard. “You got the stuff?”

“What a stupid question,” you scoff. “You think I’d take your money and then show up to this party empty handed with this duffle just for fun?”

You shrug the bag off and place it on the ground between the two of you, unzipping it as you do so. Inside is a bunch of pre-rolled joints and plenty of bags of weed for those who prefer to use a bong. There’s some rolling papers in there so people can roll their own joints, but you’re pretty sure if anyone does rolls their own joints tonight they are not using the weed you bought — because they don’t trust you so they won’t trust the weed you bought, and also no one goes to a party without their own weed. On the off chance that they do use yours, however, the necessary supplies are there.

Charlie whistles at the haul, eyes wide, clearly not having expected this much from you, but that’s not really surprising.

“Damn, I knew you were a pothead but that’s pathetic even for you.”

It is surprising, however, that Charlie took time out of his day to summon an actual demon from hell to this party.

You say this out loud. On purpose. Because it’s your mouth and you’ll say whatever you want.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You turn your head to see none other than the devil herself, Regina George, glaring at you.

“You fucking heard me, Regina. You’re a demon and you should go crawl back into whatever fiery pit of hell you came out of.”

“Yikes, someone’s feeling dramatic today. But if I left, who would teach you how to dress?”

You chuckle and shove your hands into your pants pockets. “Rather presumptuous of you to assume I would want fashion advice from someone who looks like a copy and paste Barbie doll.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s adorable that you think your opinion matters-,”

You hold your hand up to stop any further comments and start talking over Regina, effectively cutting her off and shutting her up. “I’m so glad you said that because your opinion does not matter at all, not to me especially when I didn’t even ask, and acting like it does is only going to do you a disservice so I’m gonna go ahead and let you know - I don’t care and you can keep the rest of your shitty opinions to yourself.”

Regina scowls and steps into your personal space, pointing her finger at you, inches away from jabbing into your skin. She’s towering over you slightly and now that she’s so close, you have to tilt your head up to hold eye contact with her. “Listen here you little bitch-,”

For the second time in less than a minute, you cut Regina off, smirking at the little vein that bulges on her forehead. “No, I don’t think I will, actually.”

Regina is about to blow. You can see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders are so tense, and if you can see it so can anyone else in the vicinity. You lean closer, lowering your voice to a whisper so only she can hear. “Be honest, are you just mad this shirt got to come out of the closet, and you didn’t?”

Regina’s hands are fast.

SMACK!

But so are yours.

You catch her wrist in your hand before her open palm can collide with your cheek, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the backyard. A hush falls around those outside and you feel dozens of eyes lock on the two of you.

Regina tries to pull her hand away and you tighten your grip in response - not enough to leave marks or to cause pain, just enough so she’s forced to stay where she is.

She glares at you, her eyes alight with fury and jaw tense. The air crackles with the intensity of her anger, and you can feel the heat of her rage radiating towards you. But there’s no backing down now.

“Enough, Regina!” you snap, your voice firm and unyielding. “This isn’t the time or place for this!”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, it seems like she might explode again. But you hold your ground, your own anger flaring to match hers.

“We’re not doing this,” you continue, your tone brooking no argument. “Not here, not now.”

She looks ready to argue, but you cut her off, stepping forward with a fierce determination. “Back off, Regina. We’ll settle this later.”

The tension hangs thick in the air, but she finally takes a step back and you release her, her jaw still clenched. Without waiting for her to respond, you turn on your heel and stride away, your heart pounding with the adrenaline of the confrontation.

You venture inside and slip into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. You down it in one go and grab another one for the road before leaving out the front door.

It’s gonna be a hell of a day tomorrow.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Three - Loki's Bachelor Party

Warnings for this Chapter: alcohol, partying, Scott as a stripper – kind of? also fluff

Word Count: 3,6k

a/n: I absolutely love the gif for this. Fight me. 😂

Once again goes the shoutout to @sagitternolunaspace for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! Thank you! And again a thank you goes out to everyone who helped me along with this chapter!

💍 Chapter Two °☆• Chapter Four 💍

You had been barely swept away from Loki by Natasha, Pepper, Jane and Wanda, when the god returned to the now empty apartment in the tower he shared with you. Once the door fell gently into its hinges behind him, he snapped his fingers; causing his Asgardian armour to melt away from his body - leaving him completely nude.

Loki ran a hand through his untamed raven curls, while he made his way to the bathroom. It was time for a shower. Time to get rid of all the stains which had left the mission on his skin.

The warm water massaged his muscles and helped him relax. It usually always did. The god loved a good, hot, relaxing shower after a mission - and if you'd join him, he loved it even more. If the girls wouldn't have stolen you away for your bachelorette party, Loki would've totally taken you with him, but well...

You had discussed this Midgardian pre-wedding tradition with him already a few weeks ago. It was something you were eager to have - and your friends didn't let this tell them twice, of course. They were more than happy to plan the party for you and surprise you.

As for Loki... The god wasn't sure about it. He understood the concept of this tradition. You had explained it, but he didn't know if he should like it or not. Alcohol, silly costumes - or well, T-Shirts and Strippers in the most cases? Tendencies to no. Hence, Loki didn't even know if his oaf of a brother would think so far to prepare something for him and he was convinced that the other male Avengers certainly wouldn't do it. Why should they?

Back when Thor married, he didn't have a bachelor party, but only because he did not know of such a tradition. When you gathered up Jane for her party, it was already too late - given the fact that you all were on Asgard at that moment in time. So, no Stark or Rogers who could saunter through the golden palace doors and pick up Thor for his turn.

Loki laughed to himself. As if Roger would ever do that... He would have to remove the stick up his ass first.

With a sigh, the god turned off the tab, reached for his towel and stepped out of the shower. Thick, hot steam had gathered inside the room; fogging up the mirror. Loki dried himself, went through his after shower routine and lastly put on fresh underwear. Then he cleaned everything up with his seidr and left the bathroom.

His next destination was the bedroom he shared with you, in order to get dressed - preferably casual. In the closet, the god found his favourite grey sweatpants (What a shame it was that you couldn't be here right now and admire the things this specific kind of trousers did to him.) and a loose black t-shirt - perfect for a lonely and lazy afternoon, evening and unfortunately night.

Loki then paid the little shelf in the living room a visit, which was stuffed to the brim with books. The chosen one was a old Norse romance - one of your favourites. Book in hand, the god made himself comfortable on the sofa; ready to get lost in a fictional world.

Unfortunately, he didn't quite get that far...

Barely ten minutes in, a loud knock sounded from the main door. Loki's eyes lifted. Another knock - followed by further knocks. "Oh for the Norns sake..." The god cursed; laid the novel aside and stood up. It knocked again. "I'm on my way!" He grumbled annoyed and at last opened the door for the impatient visitor - and once he did, his eyes almost popped out of his head; jaw slacking.

It was none other than his oaf of a brother, of course.

Thor had the brightest smile on his face which must be physical possible. Nothing very unusual. It was the dress up that shocked Loki... His brother wore black leather trousers and a emerald green t-shirt, on which stood in big golden letters: Loki's Bachelor Party. And the worst was the huge, very unfortunate taken picture of himself, which was printed on the t-shirt as well.

He couldn't be serious right now...

"Thor... What in Odin's name is that?" The blond god giggled and proudly displayed the t-shirt. "Do you like it, brother? I created it myself!" He boasted, but added seconds later in a whisper after Loki gave him a disbelieving glance: "Alright, alright... Jane helped me quite a bit, but... Shhhh. Don't tell the others." "Others?" The younger man asked; blinking.

Thor started to smirk again. "Of course, brother! We are not celebrating your bachelor party alone - if that is what you think." The black haired god looked once more incredulously at his older brother. "Bachelor party?"

Thor sighed and shook his head. "For somebody so utterly witty and clever, you are really stupid sometimes." The blond gestured towards his green t-shirt again, "You did see what it reads, brother, didn't you? 'Loki's Bachelor Party'!" before he reached inside his seemingly endless leather pocket and pulled out another emerald green t-shirt. "Now let's go, brother! Get changed! It's time to celebrate!" Thor threw the t-shirt at Loki, who caught it effortlessly.

"T-Shirt, black leather trousers and black boots. It's the, uh, dress code - like the Midgardians say. Five minutes, then you shall meet us outside. You will be awaited." Loki wanted to say something - anything, in order to protest, display his discomfort and especially ask his brother if he had lost his last remaining braincells, but before he could, Thor had already walked away.

Loki sighed as he closed the door shut; pinching the bridge of his nose. He clearly didn't want to do this. He refused to do this. After all, who knew who his brother had invited to this ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition party? Nobody of the male Avengers liked him that much to spend a great amount of time with him on a party for him.

At least that was what Loki thought.

The god wanted to call his brother; tell him that he would not attend this... bachelor party. He had already picked up his phone; thumb hovering over the green button beside his brother's name.

But then he remembered a conversation he had with you not such a long time ago...

"A what?" The raven haired man asked; eyebrows slanting. You giggled beside him. "A bachelorette party, babe. It's a Midgardian pre-wedding 'tradition'. The female friends of the bride organise a day - or a weekend, where they take her somewhere in order to celebrate the fact she is going to marry. Commonly - I'd say, it is an evening, where they party, have alcohol and mostly book a stripper." "A stripper?!" Loki shouted out; almost horrified. You nodded. "Yeah, it's, uh, I don't know... It's somehow a thing for such partys. After all, they are celebrating the bride's last days or weeks as an unmarried woman..."

"Yes, darling, I think I understood the concept, but... A stripper?" Your fiancè shook his head. "I don't want this. I don't want another man stripping for you."

You kinda saw that coming. You knew Loki was very... territorial when it came to other men. He always had been and you couldn't deny that you loved this about him. You were the only one for him - the only woman he'd ever lay his eyes upon, and it should be the same for you.

"If the girls really do that, I will refuse, okay? I promise, I won't watch that man strip for me." Loki shot you a relieved, almost thankful smile. "I appreciate this a lot, my love."

There was silence for a few moments, as you walked side by side, until... "The same usually goes for the bachelor party as well..." Loki wasn't stupid, of course. He could connect the dots quickly. "Female stripper?" The god asked; swallowing. "Almost, babe... I'm sure you heard of clubs with a lot of stages and poles in it? Seats and sofas where men - and women can sit, have a few drinks and watch half naked - or naked, who knows... Women dancing at those poles?"

Loki knew what you were talking about. He had been quite a few years on Midgard now; having definitely heard of such... establishments. Before he met you, such a thought would've peaked his interest, without a doubt. Beautiful ladies dancing at poles and showing off their curves? Which man wouldn't be intrigued? By the Norns, he would've probably spent various nights there already, if he was still the same god he was years ago - but he wasn't. Meanwhile, the thought of such clubs was everything but a turn on. It disgusted him, because if he went there, he would disrespect you. Yes, Loki would probably go as far and say he would cheat on you - and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fiancè scrunched his nose. "Love, alone the mere thought of such an establishment disgusts me. I am yours - and only yours. I don't want to see other half naked women dancing for me. They don't deserve my attention. I swear to you, Y/N, I won't ever set one foot in such a club. Not under any circumstances. Never." You blinked; were quite a bit... shocked? Sure, you never discussed that topic, because there hadn't been a reason, but... All your ex-boyfriends would've salivated at the mere mention of such clubs...

"You seem surprised, my love?" You blinked again. "I-I, no, I... It's not that, babe. I'd rather say I'm shocked about the fact that all my ex-boyfriends wouldn't have said no to such a club night and you..." Loki raised an eyebrow at you; a look of disgust on his face. "Pft..." He scoffed. "Mortal men... They never fail to shock and disgust me. It's almost embarrassing that they still don't know how to cherish, worship and appreciate a woman and the love she gives them."

You couldn't help but smile; feeling pure love pumping through your veins for the raven haired god walking beside you. You reached for Loki's hand; slipped your fingers through his and gave them a squeeze. "Have I already told you today how much I love you?" Your fiancè chuckled. "Yes, darling. I believe about five times." You shook your head. "That's not enough... I love you, Loki, with all my heart."

The god stopped abruptly in his tracks and reeled you in, causing you to squeak up and crash against his muscular chest. A strong hand kept you from rebounding and pinned your body against his. "I love you even more, my darling," Loki whispered and caught your lips in a feverish kiss; not caring the slightest that you two were actually on a walk - in public.

"Let's say the unthinkable happens and Thor organises a bachelor party for me... What am I going to do? I don't think I'm the right person for such things - and not really best friends with the other... men in this compound." You smiled gently up at Loki; once again giving him a loving squeeze. "I know what you mean, babe, but... If the boys, or just Thor - whoever throws a bachelor party just for you, I'd say it's a huge gesture. Give them a chance, please? See how it goes and then decide."

Give them a chance, please? Your words echoed through the god's head on repeat. He swallowed hard; pondering what to do, but in the end he closed the contacts app on his mobile and placed the little device on the sofa. With long strides, he moved to the bedroom to change his clothes - again.

A look in the mirror told him, that the decision he made was probably already not a wise one. The t-shirt looked... interesting. He didn't really like it, but if he wanted to participate in that game, he had to play by the rules, right?

Running a hand through his raven locks and collecting a few things he'd probably need on this 'party', Loki then closed the main door of your shared apartment behind himself. Taking a deep breath, the god made his way down to the first floor.

The moment the metallic doors slid open, he could already hear voices. His brother, of course; Laing, Banner, Stark... He fought the urge to roll his eyes and stepped out of the elevator.

Tony was the first to notice him. "Reindeer Games! There you are!" All eyes were on Loki now. "Man, I honestly didn't think he'd come...," added Bruce in a whisper, whereas Thor and Scott smiled brightly. "But my brother did come!" Thor boomed and made his way over to him; slamming his meaty hand on his left shoulder blade; causing Loki to grimace in slight pain. "He truly is here!" The blond continued. "No illusions!" "And he's wearing the t-shirt! Suits you, bro!" Scott smiled like a little boy in the candy store.

"Well, yes," Loki answered and adjusted the t-shirt - which everybody else wore as well; trying to stay cool. "Admittedly, I pondered to just call my brother and tell him I rather prefer to read, but... I thought I give this-" He gestured around. "-a chance."

Thor patted his shoulder once more. "Wise decision, brother. Now let us go. A merry time is awaiting us!" "Poetically put, Point Break." Stark commented; passing the two Asgardians by. The other two men followed. Loki watched them leave the building through the main doors, where already an all black bus - yes, bus, waited.

The god grimaced. He could've relinquished the sight of Tony Stark in black leather trousers.

Loki found himself in a so-called 'party bus' again. Like the name already said, it wasn't a normal vehicle with seats. The interior looked more like a disco than a bus... Loud music, tons of alcohol and bright lights. The god didn't really like it at first; was still reluctant and kind of mistrustful. He still couldn't believe that this - whatever it was or going to be, was for him. For his bachelor party.

While the others were already in party mode and having fun, Loki sat in a corner with a drink in his hand; observing - until Thor made his way over to him.

"Brother!" The blond shouted through the music. "Do you like our surprise?" Loki hesitatingly shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, I-" He got interrupted by Tony, suddenly shouting at the two Asgardians through the music as well. "Point Break, Reindeer Games, c'mon! We arrived!" And with those words the music stopped abruptly, just like the bus.

Loki frowned. "Arrived? Where?" Thor just grinned at him; the conversation he just started already forgotten and gripped his arm; pulling the younger god to his feet. "Let yourself be surprised, brother, but I can assure that you will like it."

And Thor should be proven right...

The building before the group of men stood now, wasn't just a building... It was huge and filled with dozens of different parcours; built for a game called Lasertag. Tony didn't need to explain much, since the game itself was kind of self-explanatory.

"Let's go, dudes!" Scott chirped like a little school boy; was totally excited and already made his way to the entrance. The others followed.

About twenty minutes later, after they all got a instruction and their attire, the Avengers decided which parcour to play first. Loki looked around. "Can we just choose anyone we like? I mean, what about the other people here?" The group started to laugh; giving the fact that the usually so attentive god didn't notice it yet.

"There are no other people here, today, Loki..." Bruce started to explain. "Tony rented the whole thing for us."

The god blinked. "The... whole thing?" He asked; quoting Banner. They all nodded. "Yes, of course the whole thing. Unless it wouldn't be fun." Stark shrugged his shoulders; looking around.

Loki blinked again. He was confused - but probably in the best way possible. "Why? Why would you all agree to celebrate this Midgardian tradition with me? For me?" The four other men exchanged a few looks, before Tony took a step closer to the tall, dark god; awkwardly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Because you're one of us, Reindeer Games. You're an Avenger - even if we don't always get along and approve of this, but you are." Bruce nodded; agreed with the billionaire. "Tony's right. You earned your place. You proved us and the world wrong. You can be good - when you want." Scott nodded approvingly. "Yeah, man."

Loki swallowed hard. To hear such words had always seemed to be in far distance for him. He would've never... never anticipated or expected that the team would accept him one day. He thought they'd see forever the psychotic, maniacal killer they always had seen in him... Apparently not anymore...

"I..." Again swallowed Loki hard. "I don't know what to say, except... Thank you. Truly. I mean it."

The mood was on the verge of getting very emotional. But before that could happen, Tony eased the situation up. "Yeah, well, your soon-to-be wife played a huge roll in this all, but don't get too comfortable. You are still a pain in the ass."

Loki just smirked; gave the billionaire his best, mischievous smoulder. "Vice versa."

It was already pitch dark outside, when the small group of men emerged from the Lasertag 'arena' again; laughing and smiling. Loki would've never thought that he could have so much fun with Thor, Bruce, Scott and especially Tony in his 'free time'. Perhaps you could blame it on the small amount of alcohol running through their veins, but who knew?

"I did not know that this... Midgardian game was going to be so much fun!" Thor boomed; walking besides Loki and Tony. "I told you, Point Break, haven't I? Just like I said that your drama queen of a brother was going to like it." "Indeed, Stark." "You do know that I can hear you?" Loki threw in; causing them to snicker - almost like little school girls. The raven haired god just rolled his eyes in mock offence.

The group made their way towards the party bus again. Happy already waited in front of the big, black vehicle for them to return. Of course, Tony had hired him as a driver.

Only now did Loki realise, that Happy was dressed in the same clothes as the rest of the men; paired with black sunglasses.

"Happy! Are we ready to go?" The friendly bodyguard nodded; adjusting his glasses. "Sure, Mr. Stark. The bachelor party is ready to roll on." "What are waiting for then?! Let's go, Reindeer Games! Time to really celebrate the fact that someone is willing to marry you."

Loki wanted to give a snarky response, but a clap on his back from Thor caused all the air to escape his lungs and the words to die in his throat. "Come, brother! Stark is right!" Grumbling under his breath, the god followed the others inside the bus.

It took him a little while to get comfortable and especially to just let go and - he repeated your words in his head... Give this a chance.

And he did.

The music was loud; echoing through the whole bus. Alcohol was flowing and Scott had already reached the level where he was awkwardly dancing around a pole in the middle of the bus - much to everyone else's entertainment. One thing was sure, though... Loki had fun, was definitely a bit tipsy, but also the most sober one. He hadn't had a single break yet from the loud, deafening, colourful and amusing chaos around him. Well, he went outside for a moment to call you, since he saw that you tried to call him, but that was hours ago and didn't really count as a break, did it?

A look on his mobile told him that it was already way past midnight. Usually, at this time, the god laid curled up in bed with you, but you weren't here and the alcohol and adrenaline in his bloodstream kept him wide awake.

"Hey! Guys, guys, guys!" Tony suddenly turned down the music; causing all eyes to land on him. "I have 'n idea." He prompted; swaggering over to the others. "What 'bout we ask Happy to take us to a strip club, huh?" The other three men were way too drunk to think straight and so they all agreed - except Loki.

The god shook his head. "Stark, no." Tony raised an eyebrow; looking at the raven haired man in disbelief. "Sorry, princess, I think I misheard ya. Did you say no?" "Yes. I won't go to a strip club with you." Tony started to pout like a toddler. "But why not? Lots of pretty ladies, Reindeer Games! They're gonna be aaaall over you!" Loki swallowed the anger bubbling up inside him. "That may be true, yes, but I don't want that. Y/N is the only woman for me. I don't want or need others."

Tony groaned and theatrically steadied himself on Bruce's shoulder; almost causing the doctor to tip over. "You're such a party pooper..." The billionaire shook his head, before pressing a button on his watch. "Happy, escort us to the next bar. Not strip club - unfortunately." Then he turned to Scott. "I s'ppose your performance has to be enough. Show us what ya got, Thumbelina." Lang didn't let himself tell that twice and Thor turned up the music again.

The party went on till the first rays of sunshine kissed the summer sky and the amount of alcohol coursing through the men's veins catapulted them into a deep slumber.

Loki awoke late afternoon that day, with a thundering headache and Scott cuddled up against him. The god groaned and grimaced. It had been definitely a night to remember.

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (continuing in the comments!)

[digital-roots]

Miscellaneous Hatchetfield headcanons (mostly family related)

- Richie's deepest darkest secret is that for a few years when he was little, he and his mom lived in Clivesdale.

- Richie and Trevor are twins separated from birth parent trap style. Trevor was raised in Philadelphia before his dad moved backed to Hatchetfield, thinking his wife and Richie were still in Clivesdale. The two brothers have not interacted ever despite their proximity with each other.

- Gary Goldstein is actually a clone of Paul, the first one ever made long before they started to make the others for the moon colonies. He escaped and changed his identity, went to law school in another state, and came back to be a sleazy attorney for very rich clients. Said rich clients include Linda Monroe, who he had an affair with and became the biological father of Jordan. He's a deadbeat but he does treat him nicer than Linda's other sons when they happen to be in the same room with each other.

- Gary also does not like musicals but he doesn't make a big deal about it. His go-to coffee order is a large caramel frappe.

- Nora and Jane were actually really good friends, with Jane actually helping Nora to open Beanie's. Nora only gave Emma the job because she felt pity about Emma losing her sister.

- Sylvia is Karen's estranged older sister who cut off her ties with their family after being fed up with their obsession with purity and conservatism. At 18, She moved in with her then boyfriend at the time (they've broken off since then). Grace still prays for her sinner aunt to change her ways.

- Girl Jeri and Boy Jerry went to Sycamore High along with Mark and Karen. They did Bible study sessions together.

- Pete's parents have always had a rocky relationship and by the time Pete is 18 they're finally in the middle of being officially divorced. Pete would sometimes stay at Ted's shitty apartment when things got really messy.

- a lot of the teens think Pete is the owner of Pizza Pete's which adds to why they think he's rich. Max in particular makes fun of him for this a lot despite Pete trying to tell him on numerous occasions that he doesn't own the place.

- Pete and Alice were childhood friends but drifted away by the time they were in high school. They bonded over their shared love of sweets and dysfunctional living situations.

- Ruth had a HUGE crush on Alice, and both were a part of the tech crew in their school theater group. When she found out Alice was dating local stoner and rebellious cool girl Deb she wailed in the bathroom for a solid hour.

[filmmarvel]

Ted Lasso Finale Pros and Cons

PROS:

Nate telling everyone about Jade :))

Their performances in the final match, including Isaac kicking the ball THROUGH the net

Barbara’s scenes, and her continuing to work with Keeley!

Rebecca selling her shares and getting a happy ending with Boat Guy- just because it isn’t the ending I wanted doesn’t mean I’m gonna let it ruin the whole thing for me.

The shares going to the fans!

Even though I disliked the Jane thing, it made sense that Beard wanted to stay in England, he was always better acclimated than Ted. He seemed natural, and he had a home and community there.

Sam going to the Nigerian team!

Fun moment with Zava and his avocados

The ussie guy, and a bunch of other fun nods to the first episode

The fine thing at the beginning of the episode

Dr. Sharon finally appearing!

Women’s football happening?

Of course, the believe scene was really sweet

Colin being one of the few characters to get a satisfying arc!

CONS:

Unresolved storylines

The entire Roy/Jamie/Keeley situation? It was really unnecessary to bring Jamie back into the mix this late in the game. Plus that weird bar scene? Not to mention how they had really teased Roy and Keeley getting together for awhile (their whole arc this season was all over the place). Roy was being pretty immature, which kinda undid some character development. And I felt pretty unsatisfied by the lack of resolve there.

The fact that they’re still implying big moments that happened and not actually showing them!! There were a lot of big moments that we never saw- super unsatisfying (ex: Sam deciding to go to the Nigerian team).

Deliberately teasing Tedbecca like that:( The opening scene, her pouring her heart out and him saying NOTHING, her literally buying a first class ticket just to say goodbye to him. I’m not saying Tedbecca HAD to happen for it to be a good finale, just that all that was kinda cruel and irritating for the writers to mislead people like that.

Ted being uncharacteristically unresponsive to a lot of stuff, not talking a lot and joking like most other episodes.

Nate not really having any super impactful moments this episode after a long arc this season (and no Jade scenes). He’s one of the few characters this season who’s really gotten a fulfilling emotional arc, so for him to not really have any big moments this episode felt a bit like whiplash. Not to mention that we didn’t really get any indication of where he’s going from there career-wise? He’s still the wonderkind, so to have him back as a kit man was fun for the episode, but I expected a bit more for his future (at least a tease or something).

Beard marrying Jane (and Ted not being there??)

Ted’s whole ending, the way we have no reason to believe he’ll be at all happy there. I’m glad he’s back with his kid and everything, but what the hell. Like it’s one thing if we had been able to see his friends visiting and staying with him or something but nope! He’s just alone, in a place and with people who have caused him significant unhappiness throughout the show. I feel like they could’ve set it up better, maybe having him discuss things with Dr. Sharon or SOMEONE (just to see his perspective and understand what he’s thinking a bit more) but instead it’s just yet another example of not showing the important moments here.

Not getting any resolve about Jamie’s path in life, future plans, etc and instead only using this episode to make things weird with him and Keeley. They were fine as friends.

I’m not a Ted/Trent shipper (I feel for you guys), but Trent deserved at least one nice scene, a goodbye with Ted, something!

So in conclusion, despite how fun certain parts of this episode were, I was pretty unsatisfied with the lack of resolve among a lot of these storylines and characters, not to mention some poorly justified plot choices. As I mentioned below in my initial reaction, this whole season was so poorly planned out. I assumed that they would’ve at least planned for the finale, but it’s clear now that the whole thing was all over the place. They should’ve decided what they wanted in the finale and then spent the season setting it up. For example, when they decided it was going to end with Ted going home, they could’ve chosen to spend the season slowly working through this decision leading to an ending that would’ve felt justified (and they could’ve spent time setting up a way for him to be happy there). But instead, they introduced it in one of the last episodes. And I could use any number of examples here- Sam going to the Nigerian team, Beard staying, anything with Jamie, etc. This just felt rushed and random.

[lasshoe]

sorry to that man (brendan hunt) but i’m still choosing to believe the ending montage was a dream sequence so buckle up bc here’s why:

in the pilot episode ted tells beard that if they see each other in their dreams to goof around a little bit, so right off the bat there is a thinly veiled insinuation of some light magical realism and then of course the line about ted not being able to sleep on planes

so moving to the finale, ted was having serious doubts about leaving but wanted to believe it was the right thing to do, so this sets up the montage as his imagined, best-case scenarios and a kind of martyr-ism that he envisions for everyone he left behind to tell himself they’ll be fine without him

getting into it, we seen him go through each character with whom he had a real connection with in richmond:

rebecca: he could have heard about the dutch man from her or keeley so he imagines a rebecca getting sleepless in seattle type meet cute after he just mentioned a classic romcom "leave-cute" to her in the airport paired with the previous episode mentioning that SiS is his favorite ephron film, so it makes sense to want the "best" for rebecca’s life after him. (also worth noting that hannah even says in this interview to her that it feels like more of a possibility and a hint that she’s letting new love into her life but not a definitive ending. which also lol)

beard: he literally leaves the plane because he loves jane so ted concocts the weirdest, most surreal wedding between them in stonehenge that beard had mentioned them going to in the christmas episode, and because it feels so bizarre and almost incomprehensible but ted does wants to imagine him living his best beard-appropriate life

roy: he clearly respects him so much, enough to imagine him as the new coach of AFC Richmond, but understands roy’s inability to open up and how that could hinder his success professionally and personally, exactly as it did for him, and so then imagines bringing doctor sharon back to help him work through it and even imagines an army man to protect him because he never got a chance to give roy one himself. (sharon is also wearing green in this dream which is associated with safety re: the toy soldiers.) this one is also interesting bc roy opened up about his last season at chelsea saying that he wish he’d stuck around and just have fun rather than quit and leave but ted ends up doing exactly that—quitting and leaving

jamie: he imagines jamie reconciling with his father, clearly projecting that he never got a chance to do it with his own. we’ve always seen how jamie and his relationship with his father has brought out ted's own complicated feelings of fatherhood so it makes sense in ted’s dream scenario for him to gloss over the fact and create an happy, to him, vision of reconciliation

nate: nate being integrated back into the coaching staff and having a rich full life is all ted ever wished for him. we never really saw him arrive at the choice to truly forgive him but we understand through the scene with beard that he obviously did, and again in nate's return and his apology

sam: he truly does believe he’ll make the nigerian team one day, since he mentioned it back in season one after saying he was homesick and after not making it this season. also thought it was interesting we got no resolution with simi at sam’s restaurant which further proves it’s a dream because ted isn’t privy to that relationship, only we the audience are

keeley/rebecca: the women’s league is totally something he (and all of us) could see them doing together and i love that he imagines their personal and professional bond continue in something that is so special for both of them. he would have loved that :')

mae/the pub boys: he has just learned that rebecca sold 49% of the club back to the fans so of course he dreams that mae and the boys get their part of the shares since it’s a place that was a home to people who care deeply for AFC richmond and had warmed up and welcomed him in as well

trent: in another classic ted way, in trying to distance himself from the community in order to make peace with his decision to return to kansas, he imagines that trent took his advice and changed the title of the book from "the lasso way" to "the richmond way" which only makes sense in dream ted’s head because he can’t objectively define the impact he’s had on richmond and instead deflects it back to the community. but trent is a professional and in his objective opinion i truly believe he would stick to his original thesis that these changes and this coaching philosophy is 100% because of ted

roy/keeley/jamie: the last shot of him observing them together mirrors how he saw them after the man city game, and again, he’s not aware of the current dynamics between them so at the higgins' barbecue he imagines them as he last remembered them, happy, but not explicitly together in any specific coupling combination

higgins: of course he wants to imagine his found family still hanging out and actively being a found family outside of the club and he has fond memories of being at the higgins house with the whole gaggle at christmas, so this vignette is almost an amalgamation of all his best wishes come together, really working overtime to sell the idea that they will be happy without him

ADDITIONALLY we’ve also seen a flash forward used as a device in the show before in 212. but there we got specific time cards to let us know when it’s happening. in the finale, it’s much more abstract as a montage (you could even say lynchian, which the official ted lasso twitter account mentioned here) which is another reason to believe it could be a dream

then of course ted waking up after this sequence and just then arriving back to kansas and henry? it was only several hours vs. the weeks? months? years? that seemed to have passed in the dream sequence? the show doesn’t ever sway from its linear storytelling, so it's logical to show all of that while ted is sleeping because it’s not real and doesn’t affect the timeline, but for those who want that closure offers up possibilities of where the characters could end up through the filter of ted’s imagination

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

masterlist is linked here <3

36. All the Way Back

It was pure chance that one of the clergymen who was in today was also the one responsible for playing the church organ. He was playing a gentle tune, giving Freddie and her father time to prepare before they entered. Freddie’s hand was already tucked into her father’s elbow. She was bouncing around on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

When the first few staccato notes of Wagner’s Bridal Chorus rang out, Felix bent down and pressed a kiss to Freddie’s temple over the top of her veil.

Smiling sidelong at her father, Freddie thought she’d kiss him back if she had time to lift her veil off of her face one final time.

Two of the clergymen pulled the doors open for them when the music changed.

Freddie drew in a steadying breath.

And then, before she knew it, she was being walked down the aisle.

The church interior truly was beautiful. It was everything the young version of her had imagined when playing at being a bride. White walls and high arches, candles hanging from chandeliers throwing warm lighting over the pews. A big, grand window with stained glass crests behind the altar through which bright daylight poured in, spilling an angelic light over the figure of her fiancé, his back turned as he stood beside Alma, clearly desperate to turn around as Alma laid a hand on his shoulder and muttered to him.

Freddie shared a smile with her mother before Alma dropped her hand and Rosie turned. When their eyes met, even through the pale, gauzy fabric of Freddie’s borrowed veil, all of the air left her lungs. He was wearing the same dress uniform she’d seen him in a hundred times, his curls combed neatly to the side as they so often were, and yet he was more gorgeous than anything she’d ever seen. And she was marrying him today, in only a couple of minutes. She would be his forever.

Rosie felt he was being suffocated the moment he laid eyes on Freddie. White, floor-length dress, veil over her face, her hair brushed into long, abundant curls and her eyes fixed on him. The light hit her just right as she approached slowly, following her father’s lead. She looked like an angel, like a goddess. And he was marrying her today, soon, so soon. And then he would belong to her forever.

That walk down the aisle lasted forever and only an instant at the same time. Before Freddie knew it her dad was pressing another kiss to her temple and then taking her hand from his elbow and placing it in Rosie’s proffered one.

The instant their fingers met, Rosie gave Freddie’s hand a squeeze, smiling widely as he helped to guide her up the two steps onto the altar. It was only an afterthought which reminded Freddie to hand her bouquet off to her father to hold.

Rosie’s hands were gentle, reverential, as he took hold of both sides of the blusher of her veil and started to lift it.

Freddie ducked her eyes until he had lifted the fabric past them, then looked up at Rosie from beneath her lashes, smiling at his awestruck expression.

“Fred,” he murmured, freezing with his hands in midair, the veil still only halfway lifted.

Freddie giggled. She could feel herself blushing. “You have to put it all the way back, darling,” she whispered.

“Right.” Rosie finished lifting her veil, laying it neatly down her back. He quickly cupped her cheeks in both hands and kissed her forehead before retreating.

Freddie was desperate to kiss him properly but knew she’d be reprimanded, so she stayed put, the skin of her forehead burning where he’d just kissed her, the rest of her body freezing cold.

The officiant’s voice was loud, echoing off of the church walls, reverberating across rows of empty pews. “This place in which we are now met has been duly sanctioned, according to law, for the celebration of marriages, and today we are gathered -” Here, Freddie snorted, “- to witness the joining in holy matrimony of Robert Rosenthal and Wilfrieda Jane Leroy.”

Freddie and Rosie were grinning at each other, their eyes locked and straying nowhere.

“Before we begin, let us bow our heads and ask God’s blessing for Robert and Wilfrieda.”

The officiant and all of the onlooking clergy bowed their heads.

Freddie cringed and mouthed, “Sorry,” to Rosie, who only laughed and shrugged before ducking his head.

“Heavenly Father, we ask your blessing upon Robert Rosenthal and upon Wilfrieda Jane Leroy. We come to you knowing that you have created them for a purpose, and we’re confident, oh Lord, that your will for their lives contains some amazing triumphs for them as they walk together in your name. We ask that you bless them and keep them with you, and that you hold us accountable to do the same, Lord. In your Holy name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” repeated everyone in the room.

Freddie gave Rosie’s hands a squeeze, because she hated that she was forcing him into a religious ceremony, the religion of which he wasn’t part of.

Their next wedding would be a Jewish wedding, Freddie decided, if that’s what he wanted. She wasn’t sure what that would look like but if that’s what he wanted then that’s what they would do.

The officiant continued his speech, reading occasionally from the Bible - which never failed to make Freddie cringe and Rosie laugh - before he announced that it was ‘time to declare themselves to one another’.

Freddie’s heart squeezed in anticipation.

The officiant turned to Rosie. “Do you, Robert, take Wilfrieda to be your lawfully wedded wife from this day forward - to have and to hold, in good times and bad, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health?”

Rosie didn’t look away from Freddie as he smiled wide and replied, “I do.”

The officiant bowed his head in acceptance of this before turning to Freddie. “Do you, Wilfrieda, take Robert to be your lawfully wedded husband from this day forward - to have and to hold, in good times and bad, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health?”

There were tears stinging in Freddie’s eyes even as she shared Rosie’s wide smile. “I do.”

“Good,” the officiant approved. “It is now time to say your vows. Who has the rings?”

“Oh!” Alma exclaimed softly. She hurried to the first pew in the row and retrieved the small box she’d clearly taken from the kitchen cupboard to transport the rings safely together. Hastily, as though they were on some sort of time crunch, she crossed back over to the altar and handed the box to the officiant before resuming her place beside Rosie.

Freddie shot her a grin over his shoulder.

“Oh,” the officiant said. Generally, Freddie supposed, a ring bearer would hold onto the rings until it was time to put them on, but the officiant didn’t reject them, just fumbled a moment as he decided which hand to hold the box in.

Quickly finding his feet, he went on, “Robert, please repeat after me: Wilfrieda, with this ring, I thee wed, and I do promise to love, honour, and cherish you, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part.” He opened the box and handed the smaller of the two rings to Rosie.

Freddie wished she’d had time to paint her nails as Rosie let go of her hand so she could present it to him, but when she looked back up at him as he started to repeat his vows, that thought soon disappeared from her head.

When Rosie finished speaking, he carefully slid the ring onto Freddie’s finger until it was tucked up snugly beside her engagement ring.

Freddie marvelled at the two rings, at how pretty they looked together and how important they were to her, before the officiant handed her Rosie’s ring and started to read aloud her vows.

Rosie offered his left hand to Freddie and they shared a grin as they locked eyes. And, once she had finished reciting her vows, his bare ring finger was no longer bare - and wouldn’t be, in fact, for the rest of his life.

“Robert, Wilfrieda, having proclaimed your love for, and commitment to, one another in the sight of Almighty God and these witnesses, it is my pleasure to pronounce you, by the power vested in me, husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!”

With both hands cupping her cheeks, Rosie drew Freddie into a kiss made difficult because of their smiles but no less romantic than any they’d shared before. Freddie clutched at his waist, at his forearms, at his back, laughing into the kiss as she tried to press closer and closer. She could feel Rosie laughing right back.

“Gathered guests, it is my great pleasure to present to you Mr and Mrs Rosenthal!” the officiant declared as they pulled apart. “May their days together be long, happy, and loving, and may they be filled with peace.”

Freddie smiled at the officiant, because she knew he’d tacked that last part onto the end just for them.

“If you’ll now follow me to sign the wedding certificate,” the officiant said, just as Freddie and Rosie were preparing to head back down the aisle.

“Oh,” they both said at once.

The officiant led them into the same backroom Freddie had been waiting in, where a wedding certificate was already waiting for them. One of the clergy handed Rosie a pen and he signed quickly before handing it to Freddie, who signed deftly right beside him.

Once back out in the main hall, the officiant handed the wedding certificate to Felix and Rosie swept Freddie up into his arms. He carried her out of the church the way Freddie had always imagined her husband might, no sign of a wounded arm in sight, both of them laughing joyfully all the while.

Once they were outside, grinning in the sunshine, Rosie turned in several circles, laughing as Freddie whooped with joy while she clutched at him tightly. They kissed several hundred times before Alma cut into their newlywed bubble. “So,” she said, now holding onto the wedding certificate - she didn’t trust her husband not to lose it, “lunch?”

It should have seemed anticlimactic, getting back into the car and heading home, but Freddie was so happy she found there was nothing she’d rather be doing than sitting in her kitchen and eating lunch with her parents, her dogs, and her husband. She resented that Millie and Jem and Meatball couldn’t be here but comforted herself that that’d be at the next wedding, when the war was finished and there wasn’t so much urgency about it.

“So,” Alma said once they’d all finished eating.

Freddie raised an eyebrow. 

“We didn’t get you a wedding present.”

“Oh,” Freddie jumped to reply. “That’s okay, you don’t need to -”

“What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t get our daughter and our new son-in-law a wedding present?”

Freddie and Rosie shared a grin at Alma’s use of his new title. While Freddie was now a Rosenthal, Rosie was now equally a Leroy. He had been for a while by now, Freddie supposed.

“Presumably you’ll be going back to Thorpe Abbotts soon,” Alma continued.

Rosie nodded, his smile fading slightly. “They’re expecting me back tomorrow night.” He didn’t want to go back, not yet. He wanted to stay living in this bubble of domesticity, where the war couldn’t get them and he and Freddie could properly soak up being newlyweds without having any responsibilities.

“I’ll go back tomorrow too, then,” Freddie decided.

Felix frowned. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, schatz.”

“Why not? I’m better now.”

“You’re better when you don’t have Rosie out of your sight,” Felix replied steadily. “You are not better in yourself. Not entirely.”

Freddie pulled a face. “I am too.”

“Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean you can argue with your father.”

Freddie smirked smugly. “Then what’s the point of being married?”

Rosie scoffed but was quickly appeased when Freddie leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“I think a few more days at home will do you good, Wils,” Alma cut in. “Just to settle yourself. It’s been a whirlwind of a few days and I don’t want you to hurry back and realise you weren’t quite ready.”

“I don’t want to be separated from my husband the day after we’re married,” Freddie protested.

Rosie, smiling to himself at this new title, too, gave Freddie’s hand a squeeze where he was holding onto it in his lap. “Maybe it’s not so bad of an idea, Fred.”

Freddie’s head whipped to face him. “You’re supposed to be on my side, Rosie. We’re married now, that means we’re a team.”

Rosie laughed lightly. “Sorry, honey. I just wanna make sure you’re better before you go back. You have so much responsibility on your shoulders back there.”

Freddie frowned and turned back to the table. “I don’t want to stay behind.”

Alma sighed. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. What we were talking about before was wedding presents.”

“Oh,” Freddie said. “Right.”

“You really didn’t need to get us anything -”

Alma cut right across Rosie. “You don’t even know what it is yet!”

Freddie and Rosie both clamped their mouths shut, waiting patiently for Alma to continue.

“You can’t really go on a honeymoon,” Alma began once she was sure she wasn’t going to be interrupted. “It’s unfortunate but the circumstances just won’t allow it. But we’d like to pay for you to spend the night in a hotel. There’s a lovely one on the edge of the city - quiet, never really busy. Private,” she added meaningfully.

“I’m so embarrassed I could die,” Freddie said, her hands covering her flaming cheeks. There was no way her parents were offering to pay for a hotel room so Freddie could consummate her marriage.

Alma didn’t bat an eye at Freddie’s interjection. “Even in wartime every married couple should get to spend their wedding night alone. So we thought we might gift you that. A makeshift honeymoon to go along with a makeshift wedding, and you can go somewhere nicer after your ‘proper’ wedding. Does that sound okay?”

Freddie couldn’t reply just now, so deep in the trenches of her mortification, so Rosie replied for her, his own cheeks bright red and a sheepish smile on his face. “That sounds wonderful - I mean that’s - that’s real nice of you. Thank you both. You really don’t have to do that.”

Alma shrugged while Felix grumbled. “In all honesty,” she replied, “the present is just as much for us as it is for you. I don’t particularly want to hear my daughter -”

“Oh my god!” Freddie cried. “Do not finish that sentence!”

Alma scoffed. “Come on, Wils, let’s not pretend the lot of us don’t know what goes on on a wedding night. Your father and I were young once too -”

“Please, please, let’s not have this conversation anymore,” Freddie groaned. “Please. I’m begging. We’ll take the hotel room but let’s never speak of it again.”

Felix had to stand from the table to pace around the kitchen, mumbling to himself to keep himself calm.

Rosie watched him with a vaguely terrified expression. “Maybe we should actually just -”

“He’ll be fine,” Alma cut Rosie off. “We’ll drive down to the hotel in a little while, do you think? So the two of you can have dinner there together, too. Come, Wils, I’ll help you pack.”

Alma stood and skirted around the table, offering a hand to Freddie to lead her upstairs.

Freddie, cheeks still in flames, kissed Rosie’s temple softly before taking her mother’s hand and fleeing the scene, sending a mouthed apology to Rosie over her shoulder for leaving him alone with her dad in the midst of his own personal crisis.

Freddie lay back on her bed with her hands covering her face while Alma packed a suitcase for her. “Wils, you really need to get some better lingerie -”

“Mother, I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”

Alma snickered to herself as she loaded the suitcase with a dress for Freddie to wear to dinner that night, a dress to wear tomorrow, a nightdress to wear to bed, various lingerie options - some of which Freddie was sure she’d never even seen before - and then her toiletries. “Is Wilfred coming with you?” she asked, gesturing to the stuffed bunny sitting beside Freddie on the bed.

“No,” Freddie snapped, because she knew her mother was teasing her.

Alma laughed. “I had a wedding night too, Wils. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Zipping up the suitcase, she patted the top of it for good measure before coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t suppose you need me to give you the talk, do you?” 

Groaning into her hands, Freddie said, “I hope the ‘talk’ you mean isn’t the talk I’m thinking of.”

Alma laughed. “You know what? Nevermind. If those fake wedding rings are anything to go by I’d say you and Rosie know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Oh my god!” Freddie exclaimed. She shook her head into her hands, pulling her knees into her chest and falling sideways to curl up into a ball.

“I just want to make sure you’re not going in clueless, that’s all!” Alma insisted.

“I know what sex is, mum!”

“Alright! That’s all I wanted to know!”

“Good!” Because Freddie wasn’t going to give her any more explanation than that.

Rosie had yet to unpack the bag he’d brought with him from Thorpe Abbotts, so Freddie simply replaced the pyjamas he’d slept in last night in it and zipped it up to carry downstairs for him.

Alma was grinning as she kissed Freddie’s temple and picked up her suitcase to carry downstairs. “My little girl,” she said, getting just a little bit emotional, “all grown up.”

“I still expect all my presents at Christmas,” Freddie told her with a pointed look, largely to hide the sentimentality she was feeling herself.

“Of course,” Alma replied. “And when you come back tomorrow maybe we can finally celebrate your birthday?”

Freddie grinned. “Yes,” she replied, “we can.”

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Days to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none :)

wanna start from chapter one or read more? here’s the table of contents!

enjoy this last happy chapter, the whole story goes downhill from here (im so excited)

part twenty

❝ BECOMING A WAYNE? ❞

SATURDAY — 9:00AM — DAY 77

BENTLEY WOKE UP TO QUIET MUSIC FLOWING THROUGH THE MANOR. His room was glowing a bright gold, and he glanced at the clock — 9:03am. He’d slept through breakfast again. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Over the two weeks after Dick’s nightmare and the thunderstorm, there had been a lot of developments. Cass had continued to teach him sign language, and now he could string together (mostly) intelligible sentences. He had the whole sign alphabet memorized. He hardly even talked to Cass anymore, they only signed to each other, and he liked it a lot more than trying to speak.

He realized he spoke the least in stressful situations, like Dick’s nightmare, or the thunderstorms, and that he was slowly starting to talk more without his father’s constant terrifying presence. At the Wayne Manor, his words didn’t have consequences. (Unless he decided to blow up and scream at someone like Damian and Tim did to one another periodically, but even then Bruce was hardly mean and usually took more of a talk-to-me-about-it approach. Bentley had reason to believe Bruce would be extra gentle on him if he ever started screaming at someone, partly because he’d been treating him like a priceless antique the whole time. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. His father was much, much harsher.)

Bentley fully utilized ASL in those rare occasions where he was stressed out. For example, on day 67, another thunderstorm decided to pound the Manor at two in the morning and he was sent staggering down the hallway toward Jason’s room, hoping and praying he was the one at home that night. (He was, coincidentally.) When he opened the door, instead of trying to force out words and decide what exactly was best to say, he simply used the sign for afraid. Jason let him into the room and they finally finished The Outsiders. (He chose not to think about the way the door opened hardly a second after he knocked, or how the book was suddenly on his nightstand instead of in the library, or how he’d heard Alfred chuckling the next morning about Jason promptly showing up ‘when the forecast was grim.’)

He’d gone to a real public library with Tim to find a book that they didn’t have in the Manor library (Although Bentley was sure there were enough books in there that there couldn’t possibly be one missing.) They spent a few hours perusing the aisles for one specific title that Bentley could hardly remember, and the quiet atmosphere gave him yet another excuse to use ASL, and he found out that Tim was nearly fluent in it. To make up for the time they spent there, they went to a little ice cream shop on the way back to the Manor. Bentley decided Tim was basically his best friend after that.

He’d been invited to an art show at Gotham Academy by Damian, whose work was being displayed in the gymnasium. (He didn’t share his work a lot, according to Dick, who was unsurprisingly ecstatic.) Bentley agreed, but when it came to time to leave, he realized that only Dick and Bruce were attending with them. No Tim, no Jason, no Cass, Steph, or Duke. It made him realize that, apparently, he was high enough on Damian’s good list that he didn’t mind letting him in on something a little more personal. 

It may not have been a big deal to anyone else, but it was a big deal to Bentley.

He played intense card games with Bruce and Alfred (that he definitely shouldn’t have won, but they let him, anyway.) and did ASL lessons with Cass, and let Duke give him a rundown of his science class every day after school, and played outside with Damian and the dogs, and started a new book with Jason (this one was called Jane Eyre, which Steph had insisted she had to sit in on because it was her favorite book) and Bentley was pretty sure he had never been happier in his whole life. 

But a rose always comes with thorns, and for Bentley, the so-called thorn was actually a brand new layer of anxiety. 

He was still afraid of his father, yes, and what would happen to him when he got home (because surely his father wouldn’t just leave him alone, even if Bentley completed his plot.) Yeah, he was afraid of thunderstorms, and nightmares, and all of those things, but something new was joining the conglomerate. 

He was afraid the Waynes were going to hate him once everything came to light.

Because, there were only so many ways this could go. Bentley could go through with it, and help his dad destroy them, after which he’d be taken back home and thrown right back into his old life. Or he could fail. If he failed, his father said he’d come get him (probably beat him half to death) and take out the Waynes himself.

Or he could… tell them everything. They were superheroes, after all.

The potential of them hating him came with every possible route, and he didn’t want to think about that, so he stuck to pretending everything was fine for the time being.

He pulled himself out of his bed and quickly changed into more presentable clothes (aka a hoodie and joggers.) The music coming from outside his door had a voice accompanying it, a low baritone. Bentley smoothed his hair down and swung his door open.

“I'm dreamin' of a white Christmas-” Was what the voice was singing. As soon as he stepped into the hall, it sounded like it was coming from every direction. (Tim had once told him the Manor had surround sound built in, but he hardly knew what that was.) 

Bentley shivered at the word Christmas, a not-so-distant memory resurfacing of his father’s crooked smile paired with a sinister Merry Christmas, Bentley as he slammed the closet door in his face (and left it closed for so long the kid threw up from being so empty.) The memory echoed on repeat for all the years his father had shut him away. (Roughly four consecutive years.) He never failed to lock him in the closet for Christmas Eve and Christmas day, at least, sometimes longer.

He hoped it wasn’t Christmas. 

He thudded toward the stairs to find a big green garland already wrapped around the banister, completed with holley, lights, and ornaments. It looked sickeningly similar to the garland his father had the decorators put on their staircase each year.

The Waynes weren’t his father.

It sounded like a messed up nightmare, for his father to decorate the Manor after flattening every family member and waiting for Bentley to come downstairs and see the carnage.

He counted his fingers. He was awake.

With a quiet breath, he continued down the stairs. He was met with a brightly smiling Dick Grayson on a step-ladder, who was hanging garland above the windows. “Hey, kiddo!”

“Hey,” Bentley replied. His socks slid a bit at the bottom of the stairs, but he compensated — he’d grown used to it. He’d also grown used to the creaky eighth and fifteenth stairs that he’d skip if he was trying to be extra quiet.

“Steph drug all the Christmas stuff out since it’s the first of December and insisted we put it up. You’re lucky you were still in bed when she was dishing out jobs,”

First of December. Bentley was fairly sure Christmas Day was in, like, the twenties or something. It was day seventy-seven, give or take, and if Christmas was in the twenties, then… his hundred days would be over before Christmas.

He’d be locked up again, this year.

Apparently he showed the realization on his face, too, because Dick was soon abandoning his step-ladder and coming toward him. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Bentley froze in his spot at the bottom of the stairs. He said nothing as Dick approached, and looked down at the hardwood as he continued: “Did you have a bad dream?”

“No…” He muttered. He wanted so badly to tell him nothing was wrong, but he didn’t know how much use it would be since Dick could see it on his face. “I’m okay.”

Dick brushed a hand over Bentley’s head. “Are you sure?”

No, he wasn’t sure, he was actually pretty positive he was going to cry about it in his room later, but he needed to put on a strong face for now.

“Yeah,” He replied. Dick didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let it go anyhow.

“I’m pretty sure Alfred saved some breakfast for you,” He continued, backing away and climbing back onto the ladder. “Just avoid Steph on your way to the kitchen or you’ll end up tying ribbons all over stuff.”

Bentley smiled lightly and headed to the dining room, toward the ajoining kitchen. Jason was already sitting at the island, arms crossed and shaking his head. Steph was standing across from him in a huge Christmas sweater and green yoga pants, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail with a red ribbon.

“C’mon, you do it every year!” She insisted.

“Which is precisely why I’m not doing it this year,”

Bentley spotted Alfred across the room, and the Butler perked up when he saw him. “Master Bentley. I will retrieve your breakfast.”

He nodded slightly, drifting toward the island, to the stool next to Jason. “Thanks…”

“Bentley!” Steph exclaimed, pivoting toward him on her heel. “I think-“

“Nope,” There was suddenly a weight on top of him, and he glanced up to see Jason’s elbow resting on his head. “Kid’s mine, go get your own.”

Steph eyed Jason coldly.

“Or we’ll read the next four chapters of Jane Eyre without you,”

“Fine, fine, I’m going to find Damian,” She held her hands up in surrender, retreating from the kitchen and muttering incoherent things to herself about the working class or something.

Jason’s arm left his head. “Just saved you, you’re welcome. I’m pretty sure she was looking for someone little to decorate the twelve miniature Christmas trees she put near the front gate.”

Bentley snickered lightly and climbed up on the stool next to him. Alfred whisked around the kitchen a few more times before placing a plate of bacon, eggs, and some kind of casserole in front of him.

“Thank you,” Bentley muttered, and Alfred nodded.

“You’re welcome, my boy,”

Alfred drifted away to do something else, and Bentley was left in the kitchen with Jason. He nibbled on a piece of bacon absentmindedly.

“Hey! I saw you!”

Tim suddenly ran into the kitchen. He jogged to the opposite side of the island and crouched next to Bentley’s stool, extending a hand palm-up and putting a thumbs-up on top of it, pulling the gesture toward him. Help me.

Steph reappeared in the doorway, glancing skeptically between Bentley and Jason. “Did Tim come in here? He’s shirking his Christmas tree duties.”

Jason stayed quiet, so Bentley pointed to the exit on the left side of the kitchen.

“Thanks,” She muttered, disappearing through the massive doorway. After a moment of silence, Tim stood up with a huff.

“She’s been chasing me around all morning,” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s like she has Christmas tunnel vision.”

“More like Christmas psychosis,” Jason suggested, rapping his knuckles on the countertop. Tim hummed in agreement, retreating to the nook in the kitchen that held the coffee maker.

“Oh, Bentley!” Steph’s voice bounced into the kitchen from the other room. She reappeared in the doorway with a measuring ribbon in her hand. Her eyes only landed on him for a second before flicking to Tim, narrowing coldly. “Timothy.”

Jason crossed his arms again. “Take Tim as offering and leave the poor kid alone.”

“I can’t be sacrificed yet, I haven’t even had coffee,” Tim whined.

“I’ll come back to you later, I just need to get Bentley’s measurements,” She replied, strolling into the kitchen with the measuring ribbon in her hands. Bentley watched as she made her way to him and wrapped the ribbon around his torso. He saw Jason roll his eyes as Steph muttered a number to herself and moved on to measuring different parts of Bentley’s upper body. Tim slinked out of the kitchen with a steaming coffee cup while she was distracted.

“Geez, you’re a good three sizes smaller than Damian. I didn’t even think that was possible,” 

“I heard that, Brown!” Damian’s voice emanated from somewhere else in the house. 

“Seriously, you’re like the size of a six-year-old,” Steph stated, and Bentley saw her make a sheepish face before promptly closing her mouth. Bentley assumed it was because of Damian. (He didn’t see the way Jason was glaring at her from behind him.)

“Okay, thanks!” She exclaimed, retracting the measuring ribbon and trotting out of the room again.

Bentley blinked. She was weird.

“Grayson, remove that ridiculous thing from Titus immediately,”

“Oh come on, Dami, it’s Christmas time!”

“Tt,”

The quiet tap-tap of Titus’s claws clicked into the kitchen, and when Bentley glanced over at him, he had a massive green, red, and silver wreath hanging around his neck.

“Oh, Titus,” Bentley snickered, scratching the dog’s head when he rested it on his knee. “You look great.”

“He looks ridiculous,” Damian replied as he made his way into the room, reaching for the wreath. Titus moved before he could grab it, running around the island and back out of the kitchen.

“He likes it,” Bentley stated with a faint smile. Damian sighed as he followed the dog out. 

“It seems that way,”

After Bentley had finished two pieces of bacon and an infinitesimal amount of eggs, he got off the stool and slid the plate toward Jason. (Bentley still couldn’t eat very much without feeling sick, and Jason hated when food was wasted, so he usually donated it to him when he was finished. Alfred always gave him significantly less food than everybody else, but even then he hardly ever finished it.)

He drifted back into the entryway where Dick was, and now every curtain rod had decorative garlands on them to match the stair rails. Dick was now helping Tim (who looked very unenthused) click every individual branch onto a fake Christmas tree that was probably fifteen or twenty feet tall.

“Bentley!” Steph’s voice came again. Without a Jason to protect him, Bentley turned on his heel. She was standing down the hallway near the library. “Wanna come help?”

He approached her quickly, and she went back into the library. “I need you to open some of these boxes and look for stockings.”

There were probably twenty black totes spread around the room, half with lids on, half with lids off. The curtain rod and mantle of the fireplace already had shiny garland, and the bookshelves had been lined with Christmas lights. There was a fully-decorated tree in there, too.

Bentley twisted his hands together in front of him. “Uh, what… is a stocking?”

Steph glanced over at him with only minimal offense on her face. “You hang them up, and then on Christmas they get filled with goodies. You’re basically looking for really big socks.”

Bentley was a bit confused by the really big sock part, but he started looking through the boxes nonetheless. 

“There should be ten of them. Oh, and three small ones,” She stated from where she was adding lights to the mantle.

He shuffled around in a few boxes. Most of them were full of tree ornaments, both tiny and as massive as Bentley’s head. They reminded him of his father’s Christmas tree. It took him about six boxes before he found a pile of big socks.

“Found them,” He said. Steph stepped back to look at the mantle. 

“Great — you can bring them over here,”

He did as he was told, gathering all the socks and carrying them toward her. They were a mix of green, white, and red, and they all had names embroidered on the front.

“Brilliant,” She stated, grabbing a few from his hands. She started hanging them on the mantle in order from oldest to youngest — Alfred, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Steph, Duke, and Damian. Then she hung three smaller ones on the far right end with the names Titus, Ace, and Alfred. There was a space and a hook left between Damian and the pets.

“Oh snap, there should be one on the den table in a box. It just arrived this morning. Can you go grab it?”

With a small nod, Bentley retreated out of the library and into the Den. It was also decked out in holiday decor with a tree of it's own. He spotted a little brown box on the table, already open, so he assumed that’s what he was looking for.

He pulled the flaps open and grabbed the sock thing from inside. It was green with a white fold at the top, and on the white fabric, embroidered in red, was something that made him freeze.

It was his name.

The fireplace was full of names, each one a Wayne, not necessarily by blood. Their last names were all different; Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain — Damian was the only one in the house that shared Bruce’s actual surname, but the rest were just as much a Wayne as he was. The fireplace was a physical testament to family residing in something deeper than blood, and they wanted to add Bentley’s name to it?

He stood there dumbly and stared at it for a solid thirty seconds. Maybe longer.

“Do you like it? Bruce ordered the one that matched Dick’s because he’s, like, your best friend,” Steph’s voice came, and she made her way into the room behind him, brushing her hair over her shoulder. 

It took Bentley a moment to find his voice, but when he did, he answered: “…Yeah. I do.”

“Really? Because we can have another color here in, like, twelve hours. I have Christmas shipping coupons,”

“I do,” He repeated, running his thumb over the silky fabric.

“Good. You can hang it on the mantle,” She stated, ruffling his hair a bit like Dick did.

They returned to the den, and he approached the mantle, hanging the sock with his name on it between Damian and Titus’s.

“Perfect!” Steph stated, clapping her hands together. “And the library is all done.”

He was too busy staring at the fireplace to respond. Alfred, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Jason, Cass, Tim, Steph, Duke, Damian, and Bentley. 

“Hey,” Bentley turned around to see Bruce sticking his head in the door, unabashedly wearing a massive, fluffy Christmas bow on his head. “Alfred just finished his gingerbread. You have, like, five seconds before the bloodhounds find out.”

Bentley couldn’t help but chuckle at the bow on his head as he and Steph made their way out of the room. Bruce rubbed his back lightly as he passed.

“Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m going out of town next week for work. It’s only a couple days, but it coincides with Alfred’s sabbatical, so Dick will be staying with you and Damian. Is that okay with you, or would you rather me stay?” He questioned, and he stayed in step with Bentley as they trailed down the hallway.

“It’s okay with me,” He replied. Spending a few days with Dick was basically Bentley’s favorite thing to do anyways.

Bruce smiled at him, and his blue eyes shined similarly to Dick’s. “Thank you for being so understanding. You remind me of Jason when he was a kid.”

Bentley cocked an eyebrow. He was pretty sure his father’s file called Jason the black sheep of the Wayne family, and said that he’d tried to kill Tim on multiple occasions (for taking his spot as Robin while he was dead, but Bentley didn’t think too hard about that.) It had allegedly taken a while for Jason to warm back up to his once-family enough to stay at the Manor without causing a fight, and honestly, Bentley hadn’t even considered that he could’ve been a good kid. 

“Oh, yeah,” Bruce replied to Bentley’s skeptical expression. “He was the best kid I had. He just liked to read and cook and be calm and nice — Dick nearly killed me growing up. He wanted to swing from chandeliers and punch people.”

Bentley chuckled lightly at the contrast, because he thought surely Dick would’ve been the best kid. Apparently he and Jason swapped personalities halfway through or something. 

They made their way to the kitchen, where everyone in the family shared gingerbread, and after lots more decorating, Christmas music, and a nice dinner, then they settled into the den to watch a movie Dick insisted on called Polar Express. Bentley had taken up a spot on the couch between Tim and Dick. Alfred (the cat) was curled up in his lap. Damian was on the other side of Dick with Titus, Steph was on the other side of Tim, and Jason, Bruce, Cass, and Duke were taking up various chairs spread around the room. And they watched the movie with the addition of Dick’s constant commentary and Jason, Tim, and Damian telling him to shut up, and Bentley loved every second of it, making sure to glance at his own name on the mantle of the library one last time before he went up to bed.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💛

—

tag list (ask me and i’ll add you!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

[twilight-at-midnight]

Edward Cullen x reader

Pairing: Edward Cullen x reader

Warnings: None

Requested: Yes

Request: @jamiebarnesws

***

Your new life as a vampire started shortly after turning eighteen years old, knowing you’d be stuck on that number forever, you wanted to make the best of it and bring good into this world.

However, because of the age you were at the time you had changed, it had you developing a mental trauma. A little while later, you started hunting down newborns, mostly teenager ones who couldn’t control themselves as you brutally kill them. It didn’t feel right in the beginning, but than you started seeing this more of a calling and what you were meant to do for the world. You believed you were doing a good deed for the world by making the streets a little safer to walk on day or night.

As you would hunt them down, you would turn it into a little game as a source of entertainment. At first, you start out by chasing them mockingly as you knew they were very much aware of your presence, which is followed by a hysteric and manic like laughter sprouting from your dead lungs. When it finally leads to the deadly encounter with you in dark alleyways, you take that opportunity to sneak up behind them and rip their heads from the rest of them before starting the fires. This activity unexpectedly begins to scare you a little, but fighting against the urge for a kill is stronger than your resistance as you continue doing so. You kept this up until after meeting your mate, Edward Cullen. Even the first little while of your relationship with Edward started off a bit rocky, as you both realize how mentally unstable you are and soon enough, the rest of the family had become aware before they had started to do whatever to help you overcome these urges.

Instead of giving up on killing completely, you had switched from killing newborns to killing the criminals that walked the streets, some even involved the most dangerous street gangs. You kept this hidden, or at least you tried to as you keep forgetting Edward can read minds. After finding out this side of you, he confronts you and you admit it with such shame you never felt before. Once the dark secret was out, Edward had come up with a solution that could either work in your favor or do the complete opposite. The idea was to attend Forks High School together as new students, and that’s where you meet best friend, Bella Swan.

You shared more classes with Bella than you did with Edward. How you meet is quite amusing, it was during gym class and you were playing volleyball. When she smacked the ball over the net, it hit you and she immediately comes to you with rushed, yet sincere apologies.

“I’m sorry! I told them not to let me play.” Bella says.

“It’s fine, really. No harm done.” you promise, smiling reassuringly at her.

From them on, you both become about as much inseparable as you and Edward were, loving the fact you studied at the same school together.

Not long after Bella learns of the vampire world, you trusted her enough to tell her of your past while expecting harsh judgment. But you were pleasantly surprised when she sat there with you, listening to you with any judgments whatsoever. Bella was your next go to for a shoulder to cry on, she was a good listener, best friend. In return, you offer her your ears as well and little advice.

Edward was pleased with the fact the solution was solved, and so it was.

***

@twilight-at-midnight

Requests: open

Characters:

• Edward Cullen

• Carlisle Cullen

• Emmett

• Jasper

• Alice

• Rosalie

• Bella

• Benjamin

• Vladimir

• Stefan

• Jacob

• Victoria

• Riley

• Aro

• Marcus

• Caius

• Alec

• Jane

[softboynick]

wip wednesday - 3/13/24

it's wednesday, already??? thank you for the tags, my dears! @bigassbowlingballhead @onthewaytosomewhere @captainjunglegym @priincebutt. sharing two snippets today for my honeys and lavenders! no pressure tags under the cut + OPEN TAG to anyone who'd like to share (please tag me!)

--

(1) excerpt from a beautiful chance chapter 3 (posting some time tomorrow!):

Favorite ice cream? Alex texts him one day, to which Henry responds with a simple: Cornettos. Anything you like to do in your free time? Alex sends, and Henry says: I like to read. Write. Walk my dog. Watch Bake Off. You know that last one already. Favorite author? Alex asks, and he answers: Jane Austen. Every message tugs at the thick, stubborn layers that keep the enigma that is Alexander Claremont-Diaz from being exposed to broad daylight, but when Henry answers his every question with an easy honesty that scares him, he realizes he is also giving a piece of himself away in return. Now, of course, he isn’t ready to share the darkness that lies beneath his breastbone and in the deep recesses of his mind, but he can still give away what is on the surface, and he is certain Alex won’t pressure him by asking for more than that. So he gives what he can and avoids what he can’t, and he looks forward to Friday amidst expensive Egyptian cotton sheets and strange hands and mouths caressing his body.

(2) excerpt from taken and tenured, a college professor au from an outsiders pov because i am a sucker for politics prof dr. acd and english lit prof dr. fox:

Observation #1: Teenagers fresh out of high school should not be making financial decisions that cost them tens of thousands of dollars of student debt (and be obligated to start paying it off for the rest of their sorry lives.) Observation #2: The folks at Matto never fail to make her the best dirty chai she’s ever had. Bonus observation: Hailee the Latte Girl has the cutest smile, and she’s been trying to build up the nerve to ask her out. But her dumbass can’t even move past the first, “Hey,” without blushing. Observation #3: Dr. Henry Fox has to be one of her favorite professors. The way he immediately goes on a rant about the feminist ideas embedded in eighteenth century literature on the first day of class and waxes poetry about Jane Austen nearly makes her fall in love with him right then and there. She knows he is very enthusiastically gay (and married!), but that doesn’t stop her from fantasizing.  Observation #4: Dr. Alex “Just Call me Alex or ACD” Claremont-Diaz, the extremely cool, extremely attractive Poli Sci professor everyone on campus is in love with, is weirdly obsessed with Dr. Fox.  Observation #5: Dr. Fox happens to be just as obsessed.  And finally, Observation #6: Dr. Claremont-Diaz and Dr. Fox absolutely fucking hate each other. 

@henrysfox @taste-thewaste @tinyarmedtrex @eusuntgratie @onpurposeilovehimonpurpose @junebugclaremontdiaz @england-would-fall @anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @bitbybitwrites @itsmaybitheway

[fridaynightaus]

Just like with Jacob, Amber's outfits change for each of the dreams the duo end up in. But it should be noted that the Girlfriend seen in these dreams isn't the real one, she's a figment of said dreams. So this isn't a shared dream scenario. So I guess you could say she is literally the girl of Jacob's dreams.

Descriptions down below!

Pajamas

Amber's default outfit, and the one she always has in the beginning of the dreams.

She wears a light pink crop top and shorts, both lined with white ruffles, and a pair of knee length socks with a pink stripe on them.

Night 1 ("Sleepy Hollows")

The first night is based on Week 2. It takes place on Halloween night in a suburban town bursting at the seams in Halloween decor and aesthetics, with the trees raining leaves of orange and yellow (think Halloweentown and the town in Hocus Pocus. That is until Jacob, Amber, and the spooky kids come across a decrepit mansion, where inside there are no treats...only a sour trick...

Amber wears a Freddy Krueger costumer, both to match Jacob's Jason Voorhees outfit, but also a clever nod to the dream aspect. Her costume consists of a brown fedora with a darker brown band, a dark red and green striped sweater dress, brown ankle-length heeled boots, brown gloves, and reddish-pink marks on her face (which is makeup don't worry.

Night 2 ("Final 'Xamination")

The second night is based on the events Pico's School, and a bit of Week 3. As a vile invader stalks the building, out of sight...waiting...watching. And a all-too familiar face has noticed that as well, but he's no sweet dream himself...

Amber's uniform consists of a white collared shirt with puffy sleeves, a red ribbon tie, a waist-high light red plaid skirt. white knee length socks with a pink stripe, and pink mary janes.

Night 3 ("Rose Fields Forever")

The third night is based on Week 6. With Jacob and Amber finding themselves in a "garden" (It's actually less of a garden and more of a jungle, just replacing the palm trees with cherry blossoms, rafflasia with roses, etc), the denizens welcoming them with open arms. Inviting them to become "hosts" for the upcoming festival to honor their handsome, flowery, idol. But soon they will learn that every rose has it's thorns...and a festival might not be the only thing they'll be hosting...

Amber's outfit is a ancient Greek-based outfit. With a short white robe with gold accents. a gold belt, a red toga fastened with reddish-pink gem with a gold base, and a pair of golden sandals. She also has a poppy flower in her hair.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

sharing some "caligari" fanfic here I guess

Blurb: Jane has a conversation with her mother. (2084 words)

Unlike most antiquated mansions, the Olsen manor didn’t seem to be too different a place at night than it was during the day. Heavy damask curtains hung at the windows, so sunlight and moonlight were equally obscured. The walls seemed to stretch and shrink as one walked, thanks to the artificial, faintly tinted glow of electric lamps and chandeliers— the pride of the household, as they were hard to come by in Holstenwall. The oil-painted eyes of long-dead ancestors, forever open and disapproving, watched from trapezoidal frames that extended towards the high ceilings, along with the cold, glassy ones of taxidermied hunting trophies. A stag’s head mounted in Dr. Olsen’s library, its antlers sprawling towards the bookshelves on either side of it, was locked in endless, silent confrontation with the noble portrait of one Leopold Olsen, which hung above the doorway. Eighty years before, the real Leopold Olsen had shot the stag dead during a hunting trip. According to family legend, the beast continued to charge despite the bullet in its side, and struck him in the heart as it fell. Neither of them would ever return to the great, dark woods that surrounded the town.

Now that it sat in her father’s library, Jane Olsen didn’t like looking at the stag. She wasn’t sure if she’d rather see it alive, either. She’d never liked it; something seemed wrong about displaying its head in the library, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. It had always been there, after all. The library wouldn’t look the same without it.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to be up this late. But it was difficult to sleep, and so she’d gone walking through the house, hoping to distract herself. She passed through the library, under the painting that hung over an archway. As always, her ancestor was frozen in his final confrontation with the stag across the room. But he’s just a painting, she mused, and the stag is real. Suppose instead of a painting, it was his real body hanging up there instead…

It was easy to have thoughts like that in her father’s library, both during the day and at night. The Olsen manor seemed to have been built for thoughts like that— dark, terrible thoughts that sprung on you without warning, but you couldn’t say them out loud, even though you knew that everyone had them, because how could you not in a place like this? All you could do was catch them like sparrows before they had a chance to escape your lips, and cage them in your head, and hope they never slipped out even though they constantly pecked with their cold, sharp beaks at the inside of your skull.

The stag had once been part of the deep woods beyond the town walls. Now, it was housed in a wonderful library, stocked floor to ceiling with all the medical knowledge of the known world, antique books and new ones, polished mahogany shelves (the wood, too, had once been of the forest) and busts of famous authors and the portrait of Leopold Olsen. In its dying moments, if the legends were true, it had killed a wealthy man who had hunted it for his own amusement. It was not allowed to rot, as wild things do. It became immortalized as a quaint piece of conversation. Its punishment was most civilized.

Jane passed under it, not wanting to give it another thought. The thing had been in the Olsen manor for longer than she’d been alive. 

She left the library behind, and tried to think of other things— what to do tomorrow, what she’d done the day before, what to do if her non-existent plans for tomorrow went awry. Doubtless her mother would have some way to occupy her time for her, or she could distract herself with some idle activity. Regrettably, chess had been ruled out, but there was still embroidery, or sketching, or reading (at least the books she was allowed to read), or piano (heaven forbid), or any of the other things that respectable young ladies did. If Francis wasn’t busy, she knew he’d be all too happy if she were to visit. Too happy, she thought. Francis was a devoted friend, but his devotion could sometimes cross her boundaries. He’d be eager to play the role of protector, but she didn’t think she wanted a protector.

She wandered past her father’s study, into one of several living rooms— the main one, where they received guests. The whole room was tinted with the uneasy rose-colored light of the enormous spherical lamp above. A cluster of flowers with crooked stems leaned out of a tall-necked vase, seeming strangely misplaced despite their careful arrangement on a small table. An overstuffed armchair faced away from her, its high back washed in the pink glow of the lamp.

Why is the light on at this hour? she wondered, and flicked the switch off.

“Marie!” a brittle voice cried from the armchair. Jane startled. “I told you to keep the light on…”

Jane exhaled, recognizing her mother’s voice. She turned the switch, squinting as the lamp flickered on again.

“You’re such a foolish girl, Marie,” she heard her mother say. Her hand was visible in the lamplight, limply hanging over the arm of the chair.

What is she talking about? Jane wondered. There used to be a servant named Marie who worked there, but she had been fired years ago. Then, realizing what must have been happening, Jane resolved to return to her room. She tiptoed back the way she came, when her mother called out again.

“Marie,” she said, “come here.”

Jane glanced back at the armchair. She figured she could have gone anyway, and there would be no consequences. But that felt like a consequence in itself, so she turned around.

“Sit with me.”

Her heart pounding in her chest, Jane took the other armchair, and reluctantly looked across the table.

Mrs. Olsen was slumped in her chair in a most unladylike fashion. Her hair was undone, and strands of it fell across her half-closed eyes. It may have been the lamplight, but her face looked flushed. One of her arms draped over the chair; the other was shakily balanced on her knee. She held a crystal wineglass in her hand, the kind that was only supposed to be used for special occasions. The bottle lay on its side at her feet. A dark purple stain was beginning to set into the carpet, which she would certainly command the servants to clean up in the morning. She would claim she had no idea how it got there, and it was just as likely she wouldn’t remember.

Jane shifted uncomfortably in the armchair. Her mother pulled herself up slightly, regarding her from under her eyelids.

“I hate it, Marie,” her mother said numbly.

“I’m not…” Jane began, but thought better of it. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Mrs. Olsen gestured weakly at the ceiling. “This whole damned place,” she said. “I hate this house. I hate how big it is. I hate the lights.”

Jane blinked. “But you always seem so proud of-”

“I hate them!” Mrs. Olsen shouted. Jane shrank back in her seat. “They give me headaches, and they’re costly, and they have to be on all the time.”

Jane knew better than to argue. Of course, it seemed illogical; there was no reason to have the lamps turned on at night, when everyone tended to be asleep. 

“Everyone loves the lights,” Mrs. Olsen said in a daze. “Like the moon, right there in our parlor. They tell me they do; that makes me so happy. Such a pretty pink color, and so bright…”

Jane had seen her mother drinking before, but it had never gotten this bad. She barely seemed like herself at all, and as much as they had their difficulties, she didn’t want to see her like this. 

“I think you should go to bed,” she offered. “Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

“No!” Mrs. Olsen gasped, as if she were suffocating. “Not to bed…” She raised her head and looked around, as if she was stunned to see where she was. “Green curtains for this room,” she said, her words somewhat slurred. “Not pink ones. But the Hoffmanns have green curtains in their living room. Paula Hoffmann would notice if I had green curtains. And if Paula Hoffmann would notice, then everyone would notice, and so my curtains are pink— a ghastly pink, like raw meat— and I wanted English furniture, real English furniture, but these chairs are German, and everyone can tell they’re not really imported, but they don’t say anything to me. Nobody ever says anything to me; nothing important, anyway. And I wanted to wear my velvet dress with the lace today, the one with the ribbon in the back and the silver buttons…” 

“This is what you’re-? I mean, it sounds like you’re very upset about these things,” Jane said. But at the same time, she understood.

“He never liked that dress,” Mrs. Olsen said, staring up at the lamp. “Said it made me look almost as old as he is.” She turned her head towards Jane. “Do you think I’m old?”

She was looking directly at her. Jane wondered if she’d be able to recognize her; after all, she was having a hard enough time recognizing her own mother. 

Mrs. Olsen didn’t wait for a response. “That’s the worst thing a woman can be, is old. Almost as bad as being unmarried.” She laughed coldly, and kicked the wine bottle at her feet. “That’s how it happens. At first, it seems like an escape. No more poverty, no more difficult decisions… you get married, and somebody else makes them for you. You have a big house with pink electric lights, and you have parties and balls for other married people, and you have a child who you hope will be just as happy as you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“See, it’s all because he wanted you,” she continued. “He was never handsome, or very charming, but they don’t get you by being handsome and charming, even though that’s how you think they will. They get you with promises of green curtains and English furniture; that’s how they always do it. And then you lose your name to his, and he makes you into something he can drag out when he wants and wear on his arm. Oh, and you love it at first. You love it when his colleagues look at you and wish you were theirs. You love how he jokes about keeping you from them. The jealousy is delicious, you know. I would choke myself on it if I could. But what you really love is the escape, so much that you’re willing to overlook the pink curtains. And then…” 

Her forehead was starting to show permanent wrinkles. The overhead light made the creases look even deeper.

“It’s not an escape anymore, because you have a child. A pretty, perfect child, who’s prettier and more perfect than you. You have created this pretty, perfect thing, and so you are very proud. But then she feeds off of you, and she feeds and feeds until you are certain there will soon be nothing left of you. You wish she were not so perfect, because she is easily taking what you worked to earn. But you have to make sure she’s even more perfect and prettier than she already is, because Paula Hoffmann has green curtains, and everyone knows if your furniture isn’t from England.”

“I…” Jane began. She felt positively sick. “I think I should go.”

 You want her to know your suffering, but you also want her to never know you suffered. You want to protect her, but some days you wish she never existed at all. But that’s all right, because they don’t really want me to exist, either. Nobody does. My child, my husband, Paula Hoffmann… they all want to take and take until I’m gone.” 

Jane wanted to run to the light switch and turn it off already, but stayed frozen in her seat. “Is that really what you think?” she whispered.

Mrs. Olsen sat up, her eyes brimming with tears and clarity. She looked almost radiant under the rosy halo of light above her head.

 “Gilda,” she said, “you look almost as old as I am in that dress.”