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teaberrii · 5 months

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Chapter 12: Eyes Everywhere

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You’re spending the rest of the afternoon doing research in the city. You manage to score an interview with some businessmen, and the responses of one of them have you see a silver lining.

“There are a lot of great business opportunities here besides hospitality. I mean… it truly is a great place if people here can get it up and running. It may be small, but they should take advantage of the island's natural resources. That can seriously boost its economy! I already know people who want to get factories up and running… but they’ve been and still are facing a lot of obstacles.

"Take this off the record, but I think the people here are too protective of themselves. Maybe it’s because of what happened to that owner that everyone sees outside influences as a threat.”

“Owner?” you ask.

“Yeah. Caelus… I think that was his name. He owned a boutique hotel”—the man points somewhere in the distance—” somewhere in that area on the next street over. I kind of knew his old man as my wife and I stayed there when it was just getting off the ground. It’s quite a shame. Their ideas were very unique, and I heard they were doing well before the awful news…”

“Have they said anything about their business running into some sort of trouble?”

“God, it was so long ago… but I remember a fight. Don’t know the man who was arguing with them but my wife was a local here. She’d never seen him before either, so it might’ve been an irritated customer since it was pretty clear he wanted to make a scene.”

You show him a picture of Caelus’s uncle. “Was this him?”

“Yeah! Pretty sure.”

So, that meant Caelus’s uncle mainly or had always stayed in the city. Was he already trying to sabotage the hotel before the Star Rails project with Jing Yuan's ex? Did the resentment go that far?

You thank the man for his time. Then, as he walks away, you quickly turn around. Perhaps you’re paranoid, but you swear you sense someone looking at you. But all you see are people and tourists walking around. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Well, well, if it isn’t everyone’s favourite mother.”

You recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around, and your guess is right. “Didn’t think I’d see our athlete superstar walking the streets alone.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets the special opportunity to spend time with the one and only,” Dan Feng says with an amused grin. “You’re lucky.” You give him a deadpan look but start walking with him nonetheless. “So, how was the date? Did Jing Yuan treat you like the queen you are?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, son.”

“Oof. You got me.”

“But, since you asked... I had a lot of fun. It was wonderful."

“Wonderful? Really? You’re too young to be sounding so old, Mom.” You raise a fist, and Dan Feng quickly raises the bag of groceries he’s holding to protect himself. “Just kidding!” You face forward just as he asks, “So, are you two official?”

You don’t know what to tell him. The less people know, the better. However, Jing Yuan already messaged you about Yanqing's mistake. And there’s also the project. You may be digging up dirt on Star Rails, but you’re still partly responsible for this project's success. Perhaps it’s best to wait until this is all over to announce the news.

“All right, I get it,” Dan Feng says. “I think I know why you want to keep it hush-hush for now.” He winks at you. “I’ll keep your secret, Mom. Don’t worry. But… Did you know his ex is back?”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“No one. I saw her myself. If I were to take an educated guess, she was going to pick up Yanqing.”

“Have you met her before?”

“Twice. Once when she and Jing Yuan were dating. The next was on their wedding day.”

“...Ah.”

Dan Feng gently nudges you. “Hey, don’t be getting jealous. They’re done for.”

You want to say you’re not jealous. It doesn’t bother you at all. And, maybe you’d really feel that way if you’d never seen her. But now that you’ve seen and met her in person… it feels more real.

You clear your throat. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s been worried about Jingliu, so they’re out on a little date. I wanted to go, but he insisted on going alone.”

“Someone sure sounds disappointed.”

“Just between you and me, I think he has a thing for her.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Me?” Dan Feng scoffs. “Oh, please. It’s Jingliu. It’d take someone really special to sweep her off her feet.”

“You don’t think Dan Heng meets those standards?”

“Do you think he does?”

“Sir, why are you asking me?”

“Well, you and Jingliu are kind of alike… You’re both women.”

“Very well spotted, thanks.”

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s a man or woman who exists that can match Jingliu. She’s unmatched.”

You and Dan Feng are almost at the bed and breakfast when the conversation turns to his training for the Global Games next year.

“It’ll probably be my last competition.”

“...Are you thinking about retiring?”

Dan Feng smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

There’s more to the story, but you don’t get to ask when you reach the stone villa. You see March and Welt sitting on the couch inside, and Pom is anxiously looking upstairs. Knowing exactly where it leads, you glance up. You hear faint conversation but not enough to know what’s going on, but you’re sure that the voices belong to Jing Yuan and his ex.

“What’s going on?” Dan Feng asks, pushing open the door. “Why are you all just sitting here?”

March sighs. “Because there’s a war going on upstairs.”

“Where’s Yanqing?” you ask.

“Upstairs with Jing Yuan and… his ex,” Welt says.

Pom puts some glasses on the table. “Let’s calm down, everyone.”

You take out your phone and see the last text from Jing Yuan.

She found out through Yanqing.

You’re sitting next to Welt when Pom puts a glass of water in front of you. “Everything will be okay,” he reassures.

“Why is Yanqing up there?” Dan Feng asks. “Why are they up there, anyway?”

“She wanted a place ‘to talk’,” Pom says. “Neither of them wanted to go to his place."

“Wait. How do you know this?”

“I… sorta overheard a little bit of their conversation when they got back. They came in, and Jing Yuan said they’ll be using the balcony upstairs.”

March leans back. “God, why’d she have to show up?”

You don’t know if you’ll get a response, but you text Jing Yuan anyway.

I’m downstairs. Is everything okay?

Just then, everyone hears footsteps, and the first person to appear is Jing Yuan. He’s carrying Yanqing who's resting his head on Jing Yuan’s shoulder. The poor kid looks exhausted. Behind Jing Yuan is his ex.

When Yanqing sees you, he lifts his head, and Jing Yuan puts him down. You stand and meet them halfway. Yanqing hugs your knees, and you affectionately pat his head.

“Is he okay?” you ask Jing Yuan.

There's a tired but stern look in Jing Yuan’s eyes. “He’s fine."

Then, his ex walks up to you, ignoring the stares of the others. “Let’s have dinner together.” She crosses her arms. “I have the information that you want, and I’ll give it to you on one condition.” Where is she getting this confidence from? “So, since we’re both here, let’s use the time to get to know each other. Just the two—”

“Enough.” Jing Yuan’s interruption makes the room go completely silent. Then, he shoots his ex a cold look. “Yanqing gave you his answer.”

“This is between me and her.”

“No, it’s not. You’re using other ways to try to get what you want without any consideration for your son.”

“Stop.” Yanqing’s muffled voice sounds desperate. “Stop fighting… Please…”

His ex turns to you, looking a little rattled. “So, we’ll have dinner tonight. Just me and you.”

You clench your fists, but you hold your tongue for Yanqing’s sake. As soon as she walks out the door, March lets out a breath. You still have a comforting hand around Yanqing’s head when she walks over.

“Geezus, what happened up—”

Dan Feng’s nudge makes her stop. He nods at Yanqing who’s still hugging your legs.

“I wanna go home,” Yanqing says, his voice still muffled.

You crouch and put your hands on his cheeks. “Then, let’s go home.”

The car ride back to Jing Yuan’s house is a quiet one. Before you get there, Jing Yuan reaches over and gives your hand a little squeeze. You turn to him, and you can see it in his eyes. He’ll tell you what happened but not with Yanqing in the car.

A short while later, Jing Yuan is making Yanqing a snack in the kitchen. You and Yanqing are in the living room, playing a game of chess, but you can tell from the tired and sad look in his eyes that he’s focused on something else.

“...I made a mistake.” At first, you think he’s talking about the game. “When Dad was driving me to school, he told me beforehand that I shouldn’t call you Mom while she’s here. I forgot, and…”

“Hey…” You sit next to him. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself.”

“Maybe if I didn’t make that mistake, they wouldn’t have fought and…”

Jing Yuan puts a plate of healthy, homemade snacks on the table, and you and Yanqing look up at him. Then, Jing Yuan crouches and puts a hand around his son’s head. “It’s not your fault, Yanqing.”

“But… She got so mad.”

Jing Yuan glances at you. “Do you think calling her Mom is something you shouldn’t do?”

Yanqing looks at you. “Well, if she doesn’t mind…”

You kiss his head. “Of course I don’t.”

Jing Yuan affectionately ruffles his son's hair. "That means it's okay, and you didn't do anything wrong." Yanqing manages a small smile and Jing Yuan affectionately ruffles his hair. “Why don’t you take your snacks and watch some TV while Mom and I have a little talk?”

Yanqing looks from Jing Yuan to you and back to Jing Yuan. Then, he picks up his plate and walks over to the couch. You and Jing Yuan end up in the kitchen where he also prepared you a little something. But food is the last thing on your mind.

“I’ve never seen him so quiet,” you say. “What in the world happened?”

Jing Yuan sighs. “She wants you to leave Yanqing alone. If you do, she'll tell you what you want to know."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in.

“Yanqing never said you were seeing anyone,” his ex said, glaring at Jing Yuan.

"It's not something he should have to tell you."

“I don’t care what kind of relationship she has with you, but she’s not taking Yanqing away from me.” Then, she crouched and put her hand on Yanqing's shoulders. He was sitting on the couch, trying to disassociate from all of this negativity. Jing Yuan never wanted him here, but his ex refused to let him leave as she also wanted to set things straight with him. “Yanqing, Mom will give you a much better life in the city. We recently moved into a bigger house, and a new private school just opened—”

“...I don’t want to go.”

“Why? You can still see your dad, and—”

“It’s not just because of Dad,” Yanqing interrupted quietly. “I like it here, and it’s not like Dad isn't letting me see you. I still visit, but I don’t want to stay there… forever.”

“Yanqing, you’re still too young to understand, but—”

“You say he’s too young," Jing Yuan interrupted, "but at least he knows what he wants." She stood upright, and Yanqing ran over to Jing Yuan. "That might change when he gets older, but stop pressuring him into doing something he doesn’t want.”

“Pressuring him? I’m not! I’m reasoning with him.” His ex scoffed and crossed her arms. “It’s also because of her, isn’t it?”

"Stop saying it's because of her." Jing Yuan glared at her. "Because it's not. You're not respecting him."

She walked up until she was close enough to lower her voice so Yanqing couldn't hear. "I know she's looking for some information. She wouldn't come to me if it was easy to get." She returned his glare with one of her down. "I want her out of Yanqing's life."

“I’m not going to let Yanqing see her anymore." Jing Yuan puts his hands on the counter behind him. "Not alone, at least.”

You scoff. “I’m also not going to give her what she wants.”

A short silence passes where both of you are mulling over your thoughts about what to do with this crazy woman until…

“...But I'll still have dinner with her.” Jing Yuan looks up and sees you leaning against the wall. “She knows that you’ll definitely tell me what happened on the balcony. And, knowing that, I’m not going to run away.”

“If you made up your mind, I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears, General.”

◆◆◆

Jing Yuan drops you off at a nearby restaurant later that evening. As soon as you enter, you see his ex already at a table near the window. Taking a small breath, you walk over. You know she sees you but she’s still looking out the window. You slip off your coat and drape it over the back of the chair. Then, you casually put your phone face down on the table. When you sit down, she finally acknowledges you.

“How long have you been seeing Jing Yuan?”

“I thought we were here to talk about your deal, not my relationship with Jing Yuan.”

She pours herself some wine. “It’s related.”

“What’s your condition?”

She scoffs. “I feel like I’m looking into a mirror.”

You force a smile. "Let's not waste time.”

“Didn’t Jing Yuan tell you? I want you out of Yanqing’s life.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Then, no deal.”

You cross one leg over the other. “Regardless of who Jing Yuan dates, that person will be part of Yanqing’s life. Are you going to refuse whoever comes into their lives? Or, is it because it’s me, someone who happens to work at Star Rails?” A pause as you pour yourself some wine. “I also have other ways of getting what I need.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not. What would I gain from doing that?” You calmly look her in the eyes. “I’m giving you a chance to clear your name. Everyone thinks Star Rails has something to do with Caelus’s death. You were part of that project. It’s natural that people suspect you.”

“A chance to clear my name? Don’t make me laugh. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Caelus’s uncle was a stakeholder in that project. You handled everything. It’s impossible not to have met him at least once. That time, you and Jing Yuan were still together and you knew that Caelus was his friend.”

“...What are you getting at?”

"Caelus and his uncle didn't have a good relationship. He even caused a scene at his hotel before meeting you. He must have known long before that Caelus wouldn't accept the offer from Star Rails. So, to succeed, you tried convincing Jing Yuan to convince Caelus to go through with the project. But, that failed. And somehow Caelus ends up dead."

“I didn’t have anything to do with that!” The sudden outburst turns a few heads. Then, she exhales sharply. “Why would his uncle want him to partner with Star Rails in the first place?”

Do you have the right answer? You have no idea. But the one you can think of is the only one that makes the most sense.

“Money. Caelus’s uncle wasn’t happy that his brother left Caelus with everything, including the hotel. Partnering with Star Rails is one way for him to get some kind of control over the hotel. There’d also be potential money under the table.”

“And what would I gain from that, hm? Yes, I wanted the project to succeed, but why would I help him?”

“He knew a guy.”

“I was talking to one of my business partners today, and… he mentioned Caelus’s uncle,” Jing Yuan said. “Not knowing that I know him.”

“What did they say?”

“He was recommending him as a potential partner as he’s supposedly a great businessman and friend. And he also has connections.”

“Wait a minute… Don’t tell me…”

Jing Yuan nodded. “He said Caelus’s uncle has been on good terms with senior management at Star Rails for a long time.”

“Senior management, huh?”

“He could put in a good word for you and help you climb the ranks,” you say.

“That doesn't guarantee I'll get anything. You’re going to have to try harder than that, Honey.”

"Then, why didn't you file the project reports? There wasn't anything suspicious about it other than Caelus's uncle being listed as a stakeholder. If you really don't have anything to hide, why don't you give a clear explanation?"

She’s looking off to the side when she says, “I just forgot.”

You almost scoff, but you don’t hide the disappointment on your face. You thought she would’ve come up with a better excuse than that.

“I have proof that you didn’t just forget.”

You think she’d ask for it, but instead, there's a pause before she says, “...He approached me first.”

Jing Yuan’s ex walked into a restaurant that evening. A stakeholder had invited her to a business dinner, and she'd thought others involved in the project would attend. But when she arrived, there was only one person. He was still dressed in the same outfit from the meeting earlier today.

“Ah, you’re here.”

She sat across from him, thinking whether she should stay or make an excuse to leave. “I thought there would be others joining us.”

He filled his glass and then hers with wine. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?” He picked up his glass and gestured for her to pick up hers. She reluctantly did so.

Clink!

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about your performance," he said, "and this project is apparently a make or break for a big promotion.”

“...Um, yes. That’s right. Does this have anything to do with—”

“My nephew is the owner of the boutique hotel.”

It took a moment for those words to sink in. She shouldn’t be so surprised as they have the same last name, but it was so common that she didn’t think twice.

“Let me tell you now that you won’t have any luck trying to convince him. This project is just an idea… a vision of what could happen. But, it’s not going to work.”

“If you have such strong concerns about it, why didn’t you raise them during the meeting?”

He extends his arms to the side. “Because if I did, the project wouldn’t be a success.”

“What… What are you saying?”

“My nephew won’t partner with Star Rails because our vision doesn’t align with his. Regardless of what happens, he wants to remain independent, and he won’t change his mind. Unless…”

“Are we ready to order?”

You almost frown when you hear the young waiter interrupt Jing Yuan’s ex. When you look at him, his innocent smile almost makes you sigh. After the waiter leaves, you turn back and see Jing Yuan’s ex calmly sipping her wine.

“...You were saying?” you ask.

She puts her wine glass on the table. “There’s nothing else to say.”

There is. You can feel it.

“...Did he have something to do with Caelus’s death?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

Are you, really?

“But, I had nothing to do with it."

After a brief silence, you say, “...You asked how long I was seeing Jing Yuan. What about you and your fiancé? How did you two meet?”

She slightly narrows her eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“He told me today that I had no idea what you went through. It just made me curious is all.”

“...Why would he tell you that?”

You look her in the eyes. “You tell me. It sounded like it had something to do with Caelus.”

“Let’s not get off topic. I told you what you wanted to know. Now, it’s my turn. Stay away from Yanqing.”

“This isn’t about me. Have you considered what he wants?”

“He’s too young to understand.”

“About what? You say he’s too young, but even I don’t understand why you want him to stay away from me."

"I don't need another person to be a bad influence on him. I'm already trying to get him out of this godforsaken town." She gives you a cold look. "Convincing Jing Yuan is hard enough. I don't need another person in my way."

"Godforsaken town? Why do you hate this place so much?"

She scoffs. "You haven't noticed? They aren't exactly the friendliest people to outsiders who want to do business here. They're too narrow-minded. I only want what's best for my son."

“Having me stay away from him isn’t going to help your case. It’s a short-term solution to a long-term problem. He may be young, but you should at least respect him.”

“Sorry for the wait!”

You don’t bother looking at the waiter as he sets your food in front of you. You give a nod of thanks just before he leaves. When you turn back, Jing Yuan’s ex is looking at you with a composed expression unlike before.

She looks as if she has something to say, but her phone goes off. After a glance, she says, “So, I take you aren’t going to do it.”

Perhaps you're paranoid, but you turn around. You sense you're being watched. But nothing seems out of the ordinary.

When you turn back, Jing Yuan's ex is already standing and putting on her coat. "Then, we have nothing else to discuss." She calls the waiter over, and there's confusion on his face but he does as he's told. He walks over, glances at you, and packs away her food.

You watch as they walk away. When you glance out the window, you see her cross the street and get into a car. You pick up your phone and turn off the recording that's been going on ever since you sat down. After texting Jing Yuan and knowing he’s on his way, you go to pay for your food. You step out into the cold, scrolling through your phone as you think about what you’ve learned.

You're sure Caelus's uncle has something to do with Caelus's death, and you also have a hunch that Jing Yuan's ex knows something about it if her fiancé's words are anything to go by. Was it the guilt of knowing and not doing anything? Or was it guilt—

Your eyes widen when a hand swiftly covers your nose and mouth. Your phone drops to the ground. Your hands are in a bind behind you. Despite your struggles, your attacker drags you into an alleyway, leaving your phone with an incoming call from Jing Yuan on the cold cement.

Chapter 13

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @immahuman @queencybow @nqctre @grimreapersscythe @winterpein @asakenajustexistshere

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #jingyuan x you #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai jing yuan #hsr jing yuan

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themultifandomgal · 1 year

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Kelly- Months Go By

2 Months Pregnant

How are you feeling?" Kelly helps me up off the floor after throwing up. Nyx not really helping as she's in the way a little

"Like death. I can't even keep water down" I sigh as Kelly puts a cool wash cloth around my neck

"I think it's time to visit the hospital YN"

"No, no I'll be fine" I go to stand up but I have to hold on to Kelly so I don't fall "ok fine" I give in.

Kelly drives me to the hospital where I'm greeted by Maggie

"What's wrong?"

"She keeps throwing up. Can't even keep water down now"

"Ok let's get you in a bed and get you on a drip. April!" She calls

"Ok come on YN. Maggie can you call Connor let him know YN's in room 4"

"Can I come with her?" Kelly asks

"Yeah follow me"

3 Months Pregnant

"Ok so the gel may feel a little cold" Natalie says as I hold my shirt up for her to do my 12 week ultrasound

"Both heartbeats are strong"

"Both?" I frown confused

"Congratulations, your having twins" Nat turns the monitor around

"Twins? As is 2 babies?" Kelly asks shocked

"Yes two babies. Here is baby A and here is baby B" Nat points to the monitor. I look over to Kelly with tears in my eyes "I'll get some pictures printed off for you"

"Thank you" Kelly wipes the tears from his face. Natalie leaves Kelly and I alone for a bit

"We're having twins" I say still in shock. Kelly smiles then leans down to kiss my forehead.

4 Months Pregnant

I throw my bag on the couch as I walk through the door. Nyx comes running up to me with a happy face while I look so pissed if it's unreal. I've just had lunch with my sister who basically told me that she can't be around me because dad thinks that I'm stupid and it's going to rub off on to Clair

"Woah you ok?" Kelly asks wide eyed

"No. Clair doesn't want anything to do with me now. My family hate me" I cry out. I sit next to Kelly on the sofa

"They don't hate you. They just need time to get used to the situation"

"You don't know my dad and sister. They've had a feud with Connor for years"

"Well if that's the case then you have me, Connor, all of the firehouse, Med and even PD. Your family has grown massively. We will give them the option to be apart of this babies life. If they don't want to then you know they aren't your family"

"Just sucks Kel"

"I know and I'm sorry your having to go through this" Kelly wraps me up in his arms and holds me close to him.

5 Months Pregnant

Things between Kelly and I have changed. I've always found him attractive sure, but recently we have been falling asleep on the couch together. Weirdly it feels like Kelly and I are a little family.

I look at myself through the mirror and notice my little bump starting to grow

"Kelly!" I shout "Kelly come here"

"What? What's wrong?" Kelly runs through the door with panic in his eyes

"Look" I turn and show him my belly "I've got a bump"

"Can I?" Kelly motions towards the bump. I give him a nod to say it's ok. He places his warm hands on my tummy "hey little ones. Im your daddy. Me and mommy can't wait to meet you" he says making me tear up

"Stupid hormones making me cry at everything" I wipe my tears.

6 Months Pregnant

"Look at you, your glowing" Gabby greets me at the firehouse as Kelly and I make our way over

"Thanks. Tell you what though I don't think I'll have any ribs left once these two are born"

"So how did it go today. Do you know the genders"

"Yeah Kel and I do but your going to have to wait a little bit before we tell everyone"

"Go grab yourself something to eat" Kelly kisses the top of my head before waking off to his office

"So you and Severide then?" Gabby wiggles her eyebrows

"We're friends" Gabby gives me a look as if I'm mad as we walk into the kitchen area

"So you don't find him attractive?"

"I slept with him 6 months ago so you answer that question"

"I just mean are you sure your just friends? Because I see how you look at one another. Would you go on a date with him?"

"I mean yeah, but he definitely sees me as just a friend. Trust me"

7 Months Pregnant

Ok so he didn't see me just as a friend. Kelly and I went on a date and it went well. We went out to a café for breakfast and now we're dating. I'm still sleeping in a separate room for the most part and now we're decorating the babies room but can't decide on the colour of the room

"I feel like grey all over will be to much" I tell Kelly looking at the room "I saw on Pinterest a white wallpaper with loads of grey elephants. The white will break up the grey a bit" I get out my phone and show Kelly the wall paper

"Lets see if we can find that paper or some similar"

"Oh also I want a rocking chair"

"We can get a rocking chair" Kelly chuckles.

#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide #kelly severide x yn#kelly severide x oc #kelly severide x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

masterlist | prev. | next

Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 10.6k

A/N: 5½ months. 12 chapters. 107,600 words. All for a silly little idea I threw at my friends in a discord server. Thank you for being here. <3

Also, there's a part in this that's VERY reminiscent of a certain photo that released today. (spoiler alert, it's in the chapter card lol) I swear, I wrote that almost a week ago and the video just HAD to drop today of all days, DIDN'T IT. If Joseph Quinn is in my walls, please get him out of there. That's not a safe environment for him.

“Right, so, hang about…” Connor holds his hands out in front of him, moving one out to the side as if physically placing events into a timeline. “So, back in 192-whatever, Ralph meets Nick and that lot, who we went to school with, who have… Travelled through fucking time,” he sounds exhausted just at that phrase. You nod, and he moves his hand to continue, “Ralph falls head over heels for Little Lauren. That works about as well as anybody would expect,” he raises his eyebrows at Ralph, who shies away a little. “And Ralph joins the Army.”

“French Foreign Legion, to be exact,” Ralph pipes up.

“French Foreign Whatever, yeah,” Connor nods, moving his hand again. “He hates it, he runs away back home, he ends up meeting Homeless Pete.”

“Wait!” Grace’s boyfriend suddenly shouts, waving his hands around and making everyone jump. He points to Ralph. “That’s why your name’s always been in the back of my head! You lived in the fucking Waterstones building?!” Ralph nods. “So, you were filthy stinking rich, and you left that?!”

“Well, I… I may have left out some details about… I may have… Sort of given up most of my material possessions to Laur- the other Lauren,” he gestures to Connor’s girlfriend, who makes an expression that shows Ralph she understands that she’s not who he’s talking about. “Um, before I had left. Well, after I had left for the Army, but before I… Ended up here.”

“You were really down bad, weren’t you, mate?” Connor asks, cocking his head, and Ralph cowers back into his seat.

“Yes, well. That’s all well into the past now. Ninety-seven years in the past, to be exact!”

“Fucking mental,” Scott says under his breath. “Anyway, Connor, keep going with your…” He waves his hands in front of him.

“Yeah, so, you’ve not got nothing, Lauren rejected you and you still left her everythi- God, how did you survive without us?!” Connor shakes his head. “So you bump into H.P., who brings you to our time. You get rescued,” he gestures to you, “and…”

“Can I ask,” Scott’s partner raises a finger, looking at you. “What made you take him in, then?”

You look at Ralph and shrug. “I dunno, look at him! Who’d say no to that face?” You squish his cheeks in one hand, to his indignation, and you hear the soft laughs of your friends. “But… Yeah. Once I’d found H.P. and gotten as much of an explanation as I’ll ever get out of him, it was just… So much to wrap my head around. And I couldn’t just leave Ralph to the streets, he’d get killed!” Ralph suddenly looks very fearful, grabbing a cushion to hug to his chest. “And then next thing I knew, he was setting off alarms in the flat on his first day there, so I couldn’t exactly leave him home alone, so I had to bring him with me to Anna’s that night. I barely had the time to text you lot in advance, I couldn’t exactly leave you a voice note saying “by the way, time travel exists and I’m bringing a man who was born in the Victorian era, see you at 7!” And then the days were getting ahead of me, and I couldn’t even make any sense of it myself, let alone trying to teach any of you about it, either.”

“So, what, does he have to go back at any point? To like, restore the fragile balance of the time-space continuum or whatever sci-fi nonsense this actually proves?” Grace asks.

“Well, we thought so, and that’s why we were always so vague about him “going home”,” you explain. “But then, after Brighton, he almost - he could’ve gone home, and by all we knew back then, he should’ve -” You don’t see Ralph wince in pain at that word. “- but H.P. tol- well, told,” you hold up your fingers as air quotes, “Ralph that since the others had never returned to their own time, without consequence, he decided to stick around.” You smile comfortingly at him and he reaches out to hold your hand.

“Easily the best decision I’ve ever made,” he smiles back. “Staying with you, well, all of you!” He looks around the room. “I truly… I cannot put into words how deeply it hurt to omit the truth from you all for so long, but… Well, everything just seemed to be going so well for me, for once, and I feared that… To let that slip, I might… Lose you all,” he lets go of you to wring his hands in his lap. “Entirely selfish of me, I completely understand if you all think differently of me, now -”

Anna interjects with a sympathetic, “You’d have to do a lot worse to get rid of all of us.”

“Yeah, you’re the one stuck with us, Ralphie!” Scott jokes.

“I mean…” Lauren starts, pausing for a moment. Ralph’s face goes on an emotional journey of potential heartbreak, fearing he’s lost one of his best friends. Lauren remains stoic as she finally continues, “Yeah, it’s pretty shit that pretty much the foundation of why we’re friends is a lie.”

“Literally the only thing that Ralph and I kept quiet was the whole time travel thing, because, well, it still sounds stupid saying those words out loud,” you shake your head. “But everything else, it’s all been pure Ralph. Nothing else is based off any lies, it was just to… I mean, what would you have done if he’d have told you that night you met him, that he’d got here by getting in a lift with an old man in 1926 and ended up in 2022?!”

“I’d think he was off his tits,” Lauren admits in a quiet voice, much to Ralph’s confusion. “Yeah, alright, I guess, it’s… It’s complicated, innit?”

“Tell me about it,” you reply, exhausted, and the others laugh.

“It is a bit shit,” Connor acknowledges Lauren and then the pair of you. “But we’d all probably have done something similar. I mean, fuck me, I’d probably have left him with H.P. and let him be someone else’s problem. Good job I never found you first, eh!” Connor’s light-hearted smile falters at Ralph’s fearful look.

“Again, I completely understand if any of you feel duped into being my friend and wish to use your own agency to - just, please, direct all of your disappointment towards me and not -”

“Ralphie, babes, we’re saying we get it. Kinda. I dunno, this is all messing with my head a bit,” Grace blows out a breath, and everyone makes general noises of agreement. “But of course we still wanna be friends with you, you big nelly!”

“Yeah, we love teaching you words and things you’d never know. Now that we know why, we can teach you way more!” Scott’s eyes glisten mischievously.

“I mean, I know I’m the one who technically turned you into a bit of a Swiftie, but I’m not letting go of that any time soon,” Anna jokes, which causes Ralph to finally let out a small laugh. “And besides, whose head am I gonna pat without you around?!”

“I never meant to deceive you all,” Ralph says quietly.

“We know,” Connor reassures in the same tone, “but you didn’t really trick us into anything. And hey, it could’ve been worse. I’d rather you were a secret time traveller than a secret serial killer!”

Ralph finally lets himself smile at Connor, who returns it. He sits up a little more confidently. “I can’t tell you what a relief it will be to never have to worry about what I say anymore!”

“I mean, still, this information can’t leave the people in this room,” you explain, gesturing around to everyone. “There’s all sorts of legalities that I’ve never been able to figure out, like a passport,” you gesture to Connor and Lauren, “or setting him up with a bank account, or medical stuff -”

“I mean, surely there’s people out there who were never registered at birth or whatever, right? Maybe we just play Ralph off as one of those?” Anna asks.

“Maybe. But who do we say he is? If we call him a Penbury, as in we try and say that he’s his own relative, his last technical record from 1926 is that he enlisted, went MIA and was presumed dead,” you shrug.

“Shit, yeah, your mum does all that stuff, doesn’t she? Have a look, see what his sister’s stuff says, maybe we can sneak him in that way,” Scott leans in, and everyone else starts shuffling closer, too.

Ralph, having been sat dumbfounded for several minutes, finally finds his voice. “Sorry, but now I’m the one who’s rather lost. So… Not only are none of you ousting me, you’re planning to deceive the law for me?!”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear Anna earlier? You’re family,” Connor smiles affectionately at him, and Ralph’s ears turn pink as his lower lip trembles.

You log into your mum’s ancestry account and once again look up Ralph’s name, your eyes going wide when you see the name next to him. “Okay, so Victoria’s got about six surnames, so I’m sure we can slip you in there somewhere,” you shake your head. Having only looked at his census before, you look through the data they have on Ralph and gasp loudly. Everyone’s gaze snaps to you as you flip your phone over to show them a photo of Ralph, dated February 1926, looking exactly how you remember he did the day you met him, dressed head to toe in Army uniform.

“Oh, you could totally say that you’d been digging up family stuff and you think you’re a dead ringer for… How many generations back would that be?” Anna asks.

You count on your fingers, “Okay, so 1901… Let’s say 30 years per generation, that’s like 3 to get to you being around our age… Which would make OG Ralph your potential… Great-grandpa.” You grimace at the same realisation that Connor and Scott come to, as they point and laugh at you.

“You’re dating someone old enough to be your -”

“He’s twenty-six! Please don’t make me think of it any other way!” You wince, making everyone laugh. “Three generations of unregistered babies is a bit of a stretch…” You shake your head. “Let’s just table this for now. He’s not going anywhere for the time being, are you?” You turn to ask Ralph, who violently shakes his head, still blinking his tears away. “There we go. So, let’s just let everything… Sink in, for now. And we’ll keep thinking of what to do in the long run.”

Ralph hugs everyone goodbye extra tightly. You offer an extra apology to all of your friends, yourself, but they all echo the earlier sentiments that they would have done the same if they were in such a predicament. That they probably would have talked you out of keeping Ralph fugitive for as long as you have. That, if anything, they’re grateful you never gave them the chance to advise you, because if you’d listened to them, none of you would have him in your lives, and one thing everyone in the room agrees on is that life’s been far better with him in it. You have to practically frog-march Ralph out of the door as he starts getting misty-eyed again.

Once you and Ralph are laying in bed, you cuddle up to him, wrapping your arm around his torso. “How you feeling, now?”

“I can’t feel much less than spectacular with you in my arms, my love,” Ralph smiles as he holds you even closer to him.

“Not just all the mushy stuff, you big sap,” you tease. “I mean, like, having to tell everyone.”

“Ah. Yes, well. That went far better than I ever imagined,” he admits softly.

“Wanna admit now that you mean a hell of a lot more to people now that you’ve found the right ones?” You look up at him with a grin.

He squeezes his arm around you to prompt you into leaning up to kiss him. Once you break away from him, he sighs happily. “I suppose, it’s a comfort to know what real friendship is supposed to feel like.”

“Exactly. You don’t give up on the right people. And you’re our right person,” you nuzzle into his neck and he buries his face in your hair.

“That sentiment is more than mutual. Goodnight, my love. Pleasant dreams.“

“Night, Ralphie. Love you, too.”

The next morning, you and Ralph both have the day off, a rare occurrence that you’re extra grateful for today. Of course, you’d love to spend it doing more of what you’d been doing just yesterday, but you’d rather be extra safe and get Ralph some protection, as well as your own birth control. And you needed to go into town for some other things, anyway. You decide to take Ralph with you, though - mostly, so that you can coach him into being able to buy his own condoms without spontaneously combusting on the spot.

Ralph wants to ask his boss something, too, so you head to the old high street where his shop is. While you do love his colleagues, you know that Babs will insist on you two staying for a cup of tea. And then another. And then she’s made you lunch. And then you’re spending your whole day off at Ralph’s workplace. Which honestly, has been fun when it’s happened before, but you do have things on your personal agenda today. And then when they’re done…

You wave to Babs through the shop window when you hear some vaguely familiar voices approaching.

“Nah, bruv, I think your mate Pete got his maths all mixed up, this ain’t when we left here.”

“Maybe we’re in whatever year he just wanted to come back to.”

“Nah, mate, I told him, clear as mud: take us back to the present day.”

“Okay, but Jase, you do realise we’ve travelled back and forth between multiple decades since -”

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, someone’s right there! We should just ask them.”

“Fantastic idea, sis. What do you want to do, rock right up and say, ‘Hello, completely normal and unaware person. Could you, for no strange reason whatsoever, happen to tell me what year it is?’?!”

You’d most certainly know that voice anywhere. Looking over at your high school crush, you smirk at Nicholas, his sister and his friends as you tell him, “March 15th, 2023.”

All four of them look incredulously at you. You can see some cogs turning behind their eyes until, finally, Jason shouts your name out. You grin and nod at him, and he yells, “Fuckin’ ’ell! How the fuck are you?!”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Still kicking about, you know how it is. What about you lot? You must’ve been… Busy.”

“Yeah! Yeah, um… Quick question, how did you…?” Nicholas starts, but pauses, trying to think of how to articulate himself.

After a few seconds, Lauren scoffs, “How’d you know to tell us what the date is so calm, like?”

“Well…” You singsong in a high-pitched tone as the door to the costume shop swings open again. Ralph emerges, to a series of shocked gasps.

“Fucking hell, doesn’t he look the spit image of -”

“Yeah, if you just slick his hair right down, and put him in a bow tie and a straw hat, I reckon - Here, you wouldn’t happen to have a great-grandad or something called Ralph, would you?”

“Wait!” Lauren shouts, holding her hands out. She studies Ralph intricately, who looks as though he’s still processing the sight in front of him. “You look just like Ralph, but all modern-like…” She points to him, and then to you. “And you know that we’ve been… In a different time…” She sticks her head out and squints her eyes back at Ralph. “Are you -?” He nods, still stunned into a wide-eyed silence.

Horace raises his arms in an excited greeting. “Ralph! My boy! We thought you’d died!” He pulls him into a hug that sweeps him off his feet. Ralph hangs against Horace’s body as though he were a ragdoll, his face still bewildered. “Let me take a good look at you,” he says as he puts Ralph down, before letting out a single cackle. “Ha, look at you! Look at this jacket, these chains! You’re a proper modern man, ain’t ya, with your sunglasses and your - How’ve you been, what you been up to?!”

“How did you get here?!” Nick asks in disbelief. You recap very quickly how Ralph found Pete - deliberately redacting that he’d attempted to return home to them - and ended up here, where you’d found him and taken him in.

Just as you finish explaining, someone approaches you with an, “Excuse me?” They tap your arm, but lean around you to look at Ralph and nod with a smile, “I thought that was him! Ralph from Twitter, right? Oh my god, I wish my phone hadn’t died, or I’d so ask for a selfie with you!”

Four confused faces look over at Ralph, but you wave the stranger off with a, “Not to worry! I can take one on his phone for him to tweet, if you want? And then you can save it for yourself when you’re home?”

“Oh my god, would you? That’s so sweet! Thank you!” They gush before posing for a photo with him. You quickly get their Twitter handle to include in his tweet, and wave them off as they walk away with a spring in their step.

“What was all that, then?” Jason asks with amusement. “Ralph from Twitter?!”

“Long story. I never told my friends Ralph was from the 1920s, so they thought anyone his age should be on Twitter by now. He kept tweeting inane shit that he thought he was Googling, people found it hilarious, and now he’s sort of social media famous,” you explain with a shrug, to everyone’s laughter.

Lauren looks Ralph up and down, not unlike the way Ralph looks at you, and rubs her hands together. “Famous, eh? I like the sound of that. Sounds like we’ve got some catching up to do, eh, Ralph?”

You feel rage burn through you at the audacity that Lauren has, clearly only interested in Ralph for a chance at fame herself. At how she could so outwardly come for your man - though, granted, Ralph’s been too shellshocked to make that much clear.

You, yourself, start to freeze up as you look over at him. What if this is it? The validation he’d been craving for so long? A second chance at the love he’d felt so strongly about losing, he’d fled the country. If he was willing to risk losing it all after having his heart broken, what else would he be willing to lose to win her back?!

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, Ralph takes a deep breath in. “I don’t think there’s anything more to be caught up on.” He holds your arm to smile warmly at you, “You captured everything perfectly, darling,” before leaning in to kiss you. Jason and Horace hoot and holler, while Lauren makes a disgusted face.

“Fair enough. Rather you than me, anyway, I’d probably get sick of him after a while,” she sneers.

“Good job I won’t, then, eh!” You flash a sickly sweet grin at her as you wrap your arms around one of Ralph’s, hugging it tightly.

“Looks like you really are out of a shot, mate,” Jason grins at Nick, who shoves him.

“Give over, that was -” he flusters, and you laugh, which he sighs at. “Okay, well, so as to explain myself and not sound like a complete lunatic, I, uh… Might have had a bit of a thing for you in school, but I was always too chicken to do anything about it. And even though that was years ago at this point, apparently I’m not allowed to live it down,” he forces a smile on his face, making you laugh harder.

“If it’s any consolation, that was mutual, by the way,” you smirk. You feel Ralph tense under your grip and bury your head against his bicep. “But I don’t think it was meant to be, in the end.”

“God, can you imagine, in another universe, it would’ve been you and Nick, Jase and Victoria, and Lauren and Ralph!” Horace laughs before faltering. “But then who’s left for me?”

You shake your head. “What are you lot planning on doing in terms of living somewhere?”

“Dunno, we brought some stuff over from different time periods in the hopes we could make some big money off some antique dealers,” Nick gestures to the bags they’d placed on the ground while talking to you.

“Good luck, things have changed a lot in the last, what’s it been, six years for you? Yeah, the housing market’s a fucking nightmare,” you shake your head.

“Paying over a thousand pounds a month to live in a shoebox, I ask you,” Ralph mutters under his breath in disgust. You shoot him an offended glance and he simpers back, “But I’d live in a matchbox if it meant living with you, my love.” You grin back, angling your cheek for him to kiss it, to more retching sounds from Lauren.

“Well, I was wondering if we could chance our luck with Ralph’s place, but seeing as though our only way in would be claiming Jason’s son left it to us in his will, when he’d be older than us in this time…” Nick shakes his head, and you and Ralph look incredulously at him.

“Sorry, what?! Ralph’s place?! You mean the big fuck-off mansion they lived in? That’s a Waterstone’s now, and even if it was, there’s no way you’d afford a place like that -”

The others look at you in confusion. “Victoria told us that the house was destroyed in an air raid,” Nick explains slowly.

You shake your head, pointing towards the bookstore. “Go look for yourself, plaque’s still there, and everything. She ended up spending all the Penbury fortune, went flat broke.”

“Explains a lot,” Lauren mutters under her breath.

“Yes, well, anyway!” Jason raises his hands up, as well as his voice. “I’m on about the one that Victoria ended up getting when he di- well, ‘died’, I guess,” Jason holds up air quotes over the word ‘died’. You both stand there in stunned silence, so he explains, “Vic said she found a letter from your dad, before the place got bombed, or… Whatever the fuck actually happened to it, it doesn’t matter, now. The letter was meant to go to his lawyer but I guess he never got to give it to him before… Well,” he gestures, and you both nod in understanding. “Anyway, so in this letter your dad had written, it said that he’d bought an extra place, for if you were to ever go off to war and want a place to come back that was all your own,” he gestures to Ralph, who swallows hard.

“Father bought… Bought me a house?!” He asks, stunned.

“He wrote some bullshit in there about how it might help you start a family and keep the Penbury name intact, that your… ‘pursuit of a wife would be easier if you already had a place of your own’,” Jason pulls a face and shakes his head.

Ralph nods in understanding, pressing his lips together with a faltering, “Now that sounds like Father.”

“So, when you ‘died’, Vic claimed that she had the right to inherit that house, and that’s where we lived. And, um… I sort of… Gave you a nephew?” Jason smiles weakly at Ralph. “But he went off and started his life elsewhere, and fuck knows what happened to him.”

“Hmm, I thought I could maybe blag our way into claiming that Jase is entitled to inherit it, too, because of the family name, but I doubt it, if JJ never came back for it. I seriously doubt Victoria’s still going,” he shakes his head. “Never mind, we’ll just start flogging this stuff and go from there. Anyway! Insane to see both of you, together, at the same time, but, y’know. Glad to see you’re both well, now.” Nick smiles at you both, and you nod.

“Good to see you guys, too! Helps put things at ease that the whole time travelling thing doesn’t make the universe implode on itself.” They laugh, and you look over at the building next to you before nudging Ralph. “Hey, they could probably try selling some of their stuff to your shop, couldn’t they?”

“There’d be no harm in trying,” Ralph agrees. “Though I should warn you, the owner is a tad… Eccentric.”

Lauren scoffs, “Fuck me, if Ralph’s calling someone eccentric, they must be a raving fucking lunatic!” She picks up one of the bags and heads to the door, slapping Ralph’s arm as she walks past him. “See you around, yeah?”

“Y-Yes, of course. All of you,” Ralph smiles, shaking the other men’s hands as they all pile into Ralph’s workplace.

Your mind starts trying to work in rapid fire, trying desperately to connect dots that seem impossible to connect. Thankfully, Ralph for once manages to keep you on task, even managing to buy what you’d asked him to - though instead of working up the nerve to seek out a cashier, he’d opted for the equally challenging task of trying to operate a self-service checkout while you frantically Google every little bump in the road you come across - though on incognito mode, of course, just in case.

Once you’re sitting down together in a cafe, waiting on your lunch, you finally try and articulate your train of thought to Ralph. “Look, all you need to prove that you’re a rightful heir is a name, a story that you’re related, and three months’ worth of proof that you live somewhere. So, granted, we’re gonna need to find something to sign you up to that’ll mail you stuff, but after that, in just three months, we might be able to get that place!”

“Well,” Ralph starts, wringing his hands together on the table. “Babs was telling me something about - about the taxes she has to file, apparently there’s some sort of form I have to be given at the end of the month, I didn’t say anything because she’s the one that pays me, but she had said something about deducting it from my pay already, it’s a… System I couldn’t wrap my head around,” he shakes his head. “But she did say… That if I’m asked to prove anything about my pay, she also has my official pay slips in her possession.”

You look at him incredulously. “So, what, they have your work’s address on them? As if you live there?”

“Not quite… She asked for our address some time ago, and I assumed it was in case of emergencies so I told her, and so I suppose that’s what she’s submitted on the slips. She said that she never sends them because there’s no point, if we want them, we can simply ask her.”

You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “So, we can take those… With your name on… Make up some story about how we found a photo online of your great-grandad who looks just like you and found out he owned that house…” You grin at him. “And it’d be ours!”

Ralph deflates a little. “I wish I could share your enthusiasm, my love, but I fear our luck has run out by now. I mean, surely I’d need a legal record, too!”

You shake your head furiously. “It only says they might ask, online. And you’ve charmed your way out of identification before on countless occasions, what’s one more time?! “

“It’s just an awfully big risk, I mean, what if we get caught? What if we’re imprisoned, questioned - would they even believe what happened with me? It’s just too close to being impossible!”

“Exactly!” You slap the table a few times before grabbing Ralph’s hands to hold them. “Everything about us is just shy of being impossible. You are a 26 year old man who was born in 1901. I am someone who’d given up entirely on love until I literally walked right into meeting my literal soulmate.”

Ralph smiles bashfully, “I wouldn’t have thought you believed in soulmates.”

“That’s my point! I didn’t either! I never would have! But you make the almost-impossible entirely possible. You made an entire life for yourself here where you are loved and admired by literally thousands of people, including the most ride-or-die friends you could have asked for. That are, probably right this second, also researching how to keep you here as long as we possibly can. Who can say they’ve got friends like that, hm? You think Victoria and all her little pals would put that much effort into keeping her around?” Ralph shakes his head. “Right. Because you’re special, Ralph. I know it. We all know it. Just… Come on.”

“But there’ll be inheritance tax, surely,” he counters, “and then, what? I haven’t paid tax in… Ninety-seven years!”

“So, if that happens, we do what Anna says. Once we’ve established that you’re definitely entitled to the house in the name of Ralph Penbury, we spin a tale that you were never registered. Sure, you’d probably be lumped with a load of tax to pay back, but…” You tut out a breath as you think before gasping, clapping and holding his hands again. “What if, we get the house, but I tell my parents we’re buying it, rather than inheriting it?! Get them to give me a loan for a deposit, you use it to start paying off tax stuff, and then instead of all our money going on rent, you can pay the tax people back and I can pay my parents back.”

“It all sounds rather hair-brained,” Ralph states, but with a smile that says he believes in the cause.

“It’s completely hair-brained,” you admit with a nod. “It’s insane and out there and nobody in their right mind would actually think it works. Which is what’s gonna make it work. Right?”

“It’s just - It’s the risk,” Ralph shakes his head, but you pull his hands up to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“Ralph Do-You-Have-A-Middle-Name? Penbury.” He laughs. “I am so… Ridiculously, madly, insanely in love with you that I would be willing to put my entire life on the line for you. I would quite literally risk it all.”

Ralph’s ears burn red as he smiles bashfully. “And you call me the hopeless romantic.”

“God, I know. I guess you’ve corrupted me, too,” you pull a face, and he laughs.

“You’re right, though. What sort of man would I be if I didn’t heed my own word? Though I may have far less to put on the line… I would do anything for you, my love. As long as I still have you, I will have everything.”

“Trust you to out-fluff me,” you smirk. “So, you’re willing to give it a shot?”

He takes a deep breath in, and finally nods. “Very well. Whatever happens, we shall have each other, always.”

You kiss his hands again with a grin. “Always.”

~~~

The clang of metal against metal as the door shuts behind you makes you jump out of your skin. “Jesus fucking Christ, warn someone when you’re doing that, won’t you?” you glare over at the uniform-clad man as he wrenches his key out of the lock.

“If it’s too loud for your delicate little ears, sunshine, don’t stay so close,” he sneers.

“Got no choice, have I?” you ask, rolling your eyes and gesturing down, and an almost wicked smile creeps along the man’s face.

“That’s what you get, ending up in a place like this where people like you don’t belong,” he tuts, shaking his head. “If you can’t hack it…”

“Oi, dickhead,” a voice calls from behind you. “You’re all done, now, ain’t ya? If you want to keep that face of yours arranged the way your mother made it, you’ll jog on.”

He looks at you with a smug frown, waggling his eyebrows, “That really the sort of thing you want to be known for? Dangerous reputation around these parts.”

You groan, leaning down to press your forehead into the knuckles holding your car door open as you’re standing halfway in it. “Just get that lorry of yours out of my parking space before I get done for being on double yellow lines, yeah?” The man kisses his teeth as he clambers back into his vehicle and drives away. You pull a face as you put on a mock voice, “‘Get a man with a van’, they said. ‘It’ll make your move so much easier’, they said. Prick. Thanks for helping me deal with him,” you simper at Ralph’s friend Charlotte as she scoops up a box from the pavement.

“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta put pricks like that in their place, and it sure as shit ain’t our Ralphie,” she scoffs, and you chuckle. "Want me to go grab him so you lovebirds can say goodbye?” She says in a joking tone, pulling a kissy face at you.

You laugh, “Says the person who can’t go twelve seconds without sucking on Yankee-Doodle’s face in there,” you waggle your eyebrows.

“You’re lucky I like you, d’y’know that?” she teases, sticking her tongue out at you before turning on her heel, laughing as she faces away from you and sees Ralph emerging out from the front door of his townhouse. She wolf-whistles as the two cross paths, which Ralph looks very confused at, to your amusement.

“Sorry I have to go into work,” you pout your lower lip out in a frown as he approaches you. “They’re just so short-staffed, and I -”

“Don’t you fret, my love,” he interjects, leaning in to press a quick peck to your lips. “You must go where you are needed. Not to worry, we will remain hard at work here, and then when you return, you can relax in your new, furnished home.”

“Our home,” you correct him. “It is yours, after all. I just can’t believe that this is all real.”

“I’ve felt that way for some time, myself,” Ralph admits softly, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers, and you feel yourself physically melt against your car door.

“Right, I’m going before I end up feeling even worse about leaving you guys behind.” You pull Ralph in for another, longer kiss, carding your fingers through his curls as he cradles the back of your neck. A laugh bubbles between your lips as you murmur against him, “This isn’t helping!”

“Ah, what’s one more minute of them not having you?” he smiles coyly at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What if they said that about me coming back home to you, hm?”

Reluctantly, Ralph steps away. “Very well. Have a wonderful day, darling. Travel safely.”

You turn your nose up and shake your head. “Nah, think I’m gonna finally live life on the edge today.” Ralph gives you a look that tells you he isn’t amused, and you grin back, blowing him a kiss. “Be good!”

“When aren’t I?!”

~~~

You’re not sure that you’ll take the train every time you have to go to work, now; despite it being quicker, having to actively pay both ways and being sandwiched amongst so many people just doesn’t seem worth it. Still, today of all days, you wanted to get home as quickly as you could, despite all the local landmarks tempting your inner tourist. You’ve got all the time in the world now to explore them, and besides, it’d be far more entertaining showing them all to Ralph.

You unlock the door and are immediately greeted by the smell of something cooking, something really good. You step through the hallway and into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe as you watch Ralph reading from a recipe book, squinting close to the page as he drags his finger across each line of his next instruction, his mouth moving along with every word. "Looks like you could do with some glasses," you pipe up, and Ralph yelps in surprise as he looks up at you.

"Hello, my love! Welcome home! Um, I didn't hear you come in, my apologies, I'd have met you at the door if I'd have known."

"It's okay," you soothe as you stride over to him, pulling him into a deep kiss. "What's this in aid of, is everyone staying for dinner?" A pang of disappointment strikes your chest. As much as you love yours and Ralph's friends, you were sort of hoping to have your first night in the new house alone with him.

"Not tonight, darling, this is in aid of you!" Ralph smiles over at you. "Since I have been learning, and you have been working so hard at your shop, especially juggling it all with sorting out the house and you've still been the one to make countless meals for us, I thought I would try and make your favourite meal."

You let out a small, happy whimper, kissing his cheek. "As long as it hasn't been stressing you out. Do you want any help?"

"Well, I suppose now that you mention it, I do need somebody to stand right there and just look casually beautiful, and - well, would you look at that, you're a natural!" He beams over at you, leaning in to kiss you again.

You grin bashfully, hiding your face in his shoulder. "God, look at what you've done to me! You've made me all mushy and shit."

"Happy to help, my love," he smiles, pressing one more kiss to your head before returning to his recipe.

"Sure you don't want me to help? Read things out or anything? I don't want you straining your eyes," you frown.

"Well, it's not as though I can get my eyes tested, is it?" he asks as he continues preparing food.

"But if it's just a case of reading close-up, you can get reading glasses over the counter in the shops," you explain.

"But aren't glasses rather… Unseemly?" he asks with knitted brow.

You shake your head. "If anything, the right ones would make you appear very, very… Seemly," you pull a face, not knowing if that was the correct term to use or not, and Ralph laughs gently.

"Just go and get comfortable, my love. I will call for you when dinner is served."

"Oh, yeah, forgot we have a dining room with a table, now," you smirk. "Just look at us, living the high life!"

Ralph gasps, "Oh, speaking of! Hannah left us a housewarming gift, she donated her tee-vee so that we could have one in our bedroom, as well!"

The way Ralph elongates the letters in TV so deliberately will never not charm you. "That was nice of her! How come?"

"She's moving in with that girl she met last month. All seems a bit fast-moving, if you ask me."

You look at him incredulously. "Look who's talking!"

"Yes, Hannah did point out something similar to me," he admits, ears blushing.

You chuckle as you navigate your way through to your new bedroom. It seems strange, your familiar furniture against such an unfamiliar backdrop. Every room looks so dated - naturally, it hadn't been touched since the 50s, apparently. Still, that Pinterest board you've been working on for years is finally going to go to good use.

Your heart swells when you see the bed littered with rose petals, a classic touch that has Ralph written all over it. You explore all the dressers and wardrobes in the room, familiarising yourself with where Ralph and your friends have decided to unpack your things. You open up your underwear drawer, thumbing across the carefully-arranged bras with a smile. Finding a particularly intricate number, you fish for its matching underwear, and decide to change into it. Ralph did ask you to slip into something more comfortable, right? You find something flattering to put over the whole set and rejoin him downstairs.

He's stirring something in a pan, looking rather proud of himself, when you get back to the kitchen. This time, you tap your knuckles against the door to make your presence known, so as not to surprise him. However, once he sees you, Ralph immediately drops the utensil he's using back into the pot with an almighty clatter, his jaw visibly dropping. You smile bashfully and he clears his throat, "Forgive my reaction, my darling, but you look positively ravishing."

In Ralphspeak, you know that's the equivalent of him calling you the closest thing to sexy he's probably willing to say. At least, for now. Maybe you've still a little corruption left in you. Still, it's enough to cause your heart to race. "You like?"

"I love. I mean, of course, I love you no matter what, but…" He blows out a breath that tickles the curls that hang across his brow. "You really do look absolutely delectable."

After a lingering moment, you manage to tear your eyes away to look at what's cooking. "Speaking of, so does this! You sure I can't be of any help?"

"Not at all, my dear, it's just about ready to serve. And just in time, so I can no longer fear about getting too… Distracted," he smiles coyly, looking you up and down the way he always does. There's something a little different in the way he looks at you, though. A different sort of gleam illuminates his eyes. One that makes you want to wolf down your food, drag him up to the bedroom and pull him on top of you.

But still, he's worked hard on this meal, and he looks so proud of himself. Though he dishes up, he still rushes ahead of you into the dining room to make sure he pulls out your seat for you, guiding the chair back with you as you readjust it and kissing your cheek before lighting a candle you vaguely recognise as an old secret Santa gift that you never ended up using, and going back for your food.

You exchange stories about your day: you, about the stresses of working short-staffed on a weekend during a school holiday, meaning a terrifying crossover of screaming babies and toddlers, chaotic children, less-than-trustworthy teenagers and overly-entitled adults; Ralph, about all the different ways your friends almost broke almost every piece of furniture you own while trying to get it into the house. Both equally stressful for you to recount.

At first, once you're done, Ralph insists on cleaning up after himself, but after a lot of pouting, eyelash batting and gentle touches, you coax him out to sit in the living room - another whole room dedicated to one thing, you've not lived like this since you moved out of your parents' - and cuddle up to him on the sofa.

Your embrace barely lasts a minute before your lips are on his, again. He’s desperate to get as close to you as he can, clawing at your clothes as he presses the kiss open. Holding the back of his neck to steady yourself, you move yourself up to straddle his lap, letting your tongue slip into his mouth and moaning at the sensation of his against yours. He echoes you as his hands slip down your sides to squeeze your hips. You buck them under his touch, feeling his erection grow beneath you.

He chokes out a soft, “May I?” as his fingers curl around to grip at the fabric of your top. You nod, sitting back and holding your arms up to let him take it off of you. He starts trying to fold it up behind you but, impatient, you take the garment from him and blindly throw it behind you, holding his face to kiss him again.

He takes your hands into his own and guides them back down, his kisses moving from your lips, down your jaw and to your neck, where he finds an especially sensitive spot and stays there, kissing it over and over again, all while muttering sweet nothings to you. “You are so very beautiful, my darling… How fortunate I am to be this intimate with you… Just exquisite in every conceivable way…" You rock your hips faster at his words, throwing him off his train of thought entirely as he sits back and watches you lustfully.

His gaze isn't trained on your face, though. Instead, he's transfixed on the way your breasts move, both from your heaving breaths and from grinding on him. Biting your lip, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck and start pushing it towards you as his tongue just pokes out enough to wet his lips. "Wanna put that mouth to better use?" You ask as you guide him closer to your chest.

He gasps in soft delight, looking up at you gleefully. "Are you quite sure?" You nod and his face melts into one of pure ecstacy. "Thank you, my love," he mutters before taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

His plush lips press against your flesh as he kisses, sucks and licks at your nipple. Biting back a moan, you rest your hand in his hair, ruffling it slightly and muttering with a smile, “You like that, don’t you?” He hums out an mm-hm that vibrates against your skin, and reaches up to play the other nipple between his finger and thumb. You keen towards him, grip tightening and head bending down to him as you groan loudly, “Fuck, that’s it, good boy!” Words you’d never have thought you’d say in such a context fly out of your mouth so easily, and you could swear he sounded like he was chirping with happiness as you said them.

He moves away from the breast he’s suckling on, pressing one more brief peck to your wet, hardened nipple, and starts to focus on the other, still brushing the other nipple with the backs of his knuckles. You whine, whimper and moan as your still-clothed cunt begs for sweet release. You’re constantly amazed at how quickly Ralph can bring you to an apex few had ever even managed to. “God, Ralph, need you so bad.”

“Of course, please forgive me, got rather carried away there,” he mumbles apologetically to you, but the kiss you press to his forehead tells him there’s nothing for him to be sorry for. Ralph looks around, his brow furrowing. “Um, I don’t wish to diminish the mood at all, but there doesn’t seem to be an awful lot of… Space, here.”

You cock your head, smiling coyly. “You wanna go to the bed you prepared for this exact occasion?”

Ralph returns a smaller, more sheepish smile, his ears tinting. “Ah, you noticed. I suppose, of course you did, it would be difficult not to. Still, was it alright? Or too much?” His face falls. “It was too much, wasn’t it?”

You fleetingly frown in thought. “A little, yeah.” Your expression quickly changes back into a grin, though. “But it was your brand of too much, which makes it perfect.” You lean back to unbutton his shirt. “Unfortunately, my brand is not being patient enough to wait that long.”

“I wouldn’t say that of you, you were rather patient with me all those months,” Ralph notes pointedly, and you laugh.

“Yeah, you used it all up!” You climb off of him, slowly sliding the bottom half of your outfit off, but leaving your underwear on. Looking over at him gawking, you smirk, "You sure you want this? Not exactly dressed for the occasion."

He reaches up to stroke the pad of his thumb across the intricate design of your underwear. "Of course, you had been wearing a matching set, but it was I who became so impatient that I missed out on seeing it in full, my deepest apologies, my love, I - well," he suddenly, hurriedly slips himself out of all his clothes, leaving them in a heap by his feet, making you giggle again.

"Maybe I'll still let you see it," you tell him suggestively, hooking your thumbs into the elastic of your panties. "Maybe I'll wear it all again and take some photos on your phone." With nothing left to cover it, you watch Ralph's cock twitch at the idea and bite your lip to compose yourself. "Maybe," you continue as you slowly push your underwear down your thighs, "I'll leave a video or two, as well." You watch his face as you let them fall past your ankle, stepping out of them and walking back over to him. "What do you think?"

"I think you spoil me, my love," he smiles softly. He reaches down to the jeans he'd all but ripped off of himself, fumbling through a pocket until he pulls out a condom and starts to put it on himself.

Watching the act of him wrapping it around himself and sliding it down is almost enough to totally distract you from your initial thought. Almost. "Did you really just have a condom just sitting there in your pocket? And you make out like I'm the horndog!"

Ralph blushes, "Yes, well, I sort of… Hoped we would… Christen the place, so to speak.”

You climb into his lap, hovering yourself to line up with where he’s holding his shaft. “I like that idea,” you smile softly before sliding yourself down onto him. You both let out staggered moans as you let yourself get used to the sensation of being filled by him, before kneeling yourself up to the point where you can just about feel his tip still inside you and then sinking yourself back down.

His hands grip your hips tightly as he moans your name. You repeat the motions a few times, revelling in the way it feels to drop onto him, having him enter you so deeply and so quickly. You soon start to feel an ache, though, and decide to pace yourself, keeping him bottomed out inside of you and grinding against him until you feel rested enough to go again.

You can see Ralph’s mouth constantly silently moving, as though he wants to keep complimenting you the way he always does, but he’s too blissed out from feeling you clench around him, your cunt gripping his cock tightly with no intention of ever letting him back out of you again. You especially try to make sure you commit the face he makes every time you pull yourself out just to fuck yourself back down onto him again, to your memory, knowing that just remembering the way he reacts to you would be enough to turn you on, if you ever needed anything to fuel your imagination.

At one point, while you’re rocking your hips with him inside you, you finally manage to get yourself at just the right angle to hit that sweet spot that Ralph is always able to find. Keeping yourself at the same angle, you move yourself even faster, moaning louder and more often.

Ralph seems to notice, and does his best to hold you in place as he bucks his hips up underneath your weight. You curl yourself forward, arms wrapped around his shoulders and face buried in his neck as he fucks you from where he sits beneath you. Knowing how good it makes you feel when he mutters sweet sentiments to you, you mumble against his skin, “Feel so good, Ralphie… You always know how to, you’re fucking amazing… So good to me, so sweet, my Ralph, no-one else’s… My sweet and handsome boy, knows just how to please me, fuck.”

."He whimpers and whines, music to your ears as you feel your climax start to build again. “Oh, god, Ralphie, I’m so clo- Oh my god,” you groan as he starts to massage your clit in rapid circles. “Oh, fuck, yes, so good to me, thank you… Wish I could, do more for you.”

“- Already do the absolute most, darling,” he soothes. “’M already embarrassingly near to finishing, myself.”

You shake your head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, not at all, god, please cum for me, Ralphie, and I will for you, please?” Ralph completely falls apart beneath you at your words, moaning your name and digging his fingers bruisingly into your skin. You feel yourself becoming one with him as you ride out your orgasm.

He wraps his arms around your hips, cradling you on his lap, and you rest your forehead against his as you both breathe heavily, intertwined in body, in breath, in spirit. You’d never, ever thought you’d even ever contemplate the idea a year ago, but in this moment, you really are certain that Ralph is your one true soulmate.

He leans in to envelop your lips with his own in a sweet and passionate kiss before muttering, “Forgive me, my love, but I do rather need to take care of…”

You whine indignantly, but stand to climb off of him. “Suppose I should actually change into something comfortable now, eh?” You ask humorously, and you hear his laughter from where he’s throwing his used condom away in the bathroom. The downstairs bathroom that you now have in the townhouse where you live with the love of your life. This was always pipe-dream material, but here you are. Living it.

You run upstairs, taking a moment to again admire the state of the bed and think about all the ways you plan to christen it later, and look through clothes to get changed into. Opting for a tank-top-and-pyjama-bottoms combination, you take yourself to your en-suite and freshen up as you get changed.

When you open up the door again, Ralph is just pulling a white shirt over his head, and you smile fondly at his choice to pair it with a very familiar pair of sweatpants. “Those were the first clothes I ever gave you,” you recall, and he looks at you with a similar expression.

“I believe that was also what you had chosen to wear the first night I met you, as well. When you gave me your bed without knowing anything at all about me,” he reminisces.

You giggle, “Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t even look me in the eye because you didn’t want to be ‘improper’, now look at you!” You tap his nose teasingly, and his ears flush red.

“Oh, hush,” he frowns, but the air of a laugh hangs in his voice. “You really were - I mean, to take me in as you did, in my time of need while knowing absolutely nothing about me, especially after Mister Peter told you my far-fetched reasoning for being here…” Ralph wraps his arms around your waist. “Giving me the life I have now, the friends I have, the - everything,” he sighs wistfully.

“Yeah, well. You try looking you right in the chocolate buttons and saying no to that face,” you smirk, and he laughs. “It’s like I said when we went to the inheritance people to get this place. With my gift of the gab, and your gift of the… Face, the charm, and the everything else you’ve got going for you, we’re unstoppable,” you beam.

“I still can’t believe you were able to talk them around like that,” he looks at you adoringly, and you shrug.

“The amount of backlog they so obviously had, and the amount of effort it would have taken if we hadn’t convinced them to cut some corners with us, it was a doddle,” you shrug. “I could tell they weren’t the brown-nosing type, they weren’t gonna go back to check every little part of what I said we’d set out to do was legitimately within their procedures.”

“A skill set like that is wasted on your little clothes shop,” he frowns, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, and you laugh.

“Yeah, well. Maybe it’s time I look for something new that’s a bit more local to this area,” you nod. “I don’t think Babs’d let you quit, though.”

“Heavens, no, she’d be out for my blood!” Ralph exclaims, and you laugh loudly.

Once you’re back at the sofa, cuddled up beneath a blanket and watching TV together, even though you’re curled up against Ralph’s chest, you can sense something’s bothering him. “You alright?” You ask him.

“Couldn’t be better, darling,” he replies, but the tension you feel beneath your cheek betrays his lie.

“Nah, c’mon, tell me,” you sit yourself up next to him, and he sighs heavily.

“Well, I was just thinking of how… I mean, yes, we have a house now, at least, but I’m still not legally a person, am I? I know we said we wouldn’t openly use that story about me never being registered and so on unless it were absolutely necessary.”

“Yeah, we agreed, only if you need serious medical treatment,” you nod.

“R-right, but what about the other things?” He asks warily, twiddling his thumbs.

“Like holidaying? We can survive not going abroad, Ralph,” you laugh.

“Not just that… What about… Well, we could never be truly wed, or be a family,” you hear his voice get weaker, shakier.

“Sure, we can,” you wrap your arm around his shoulders and pull him so that he nuzzles into your neck, stroking his hair. “Okay, so we couldn’t get, like, legally married, but so what? We can still use the same bank account as if it were a joint one. I could easily change my name by deed poll. We could still throw a wedding in every other aspect, just without the signing the register. And as for the other bit, I mean, you can register with just one parent and add another later, if we do get away with your story about neither of yours registering you.”

“You seem rather sure in your knowledge, there,” he notes with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, well… Maybe I looked into it all a little.” He looks over at you with a knowing grin, and you feel yourself get sheepish. “What?”

“Nothing, dearest,” Ralph chimes. “Just seems a little… What’s that word that you call me all the time?”

“Sappy? Tell me about it,” you shake your head, and Ralph laughs.

“It’s an honour to make you feel that way, darling,” he leans over to kiss you. After a few minutes, he breaks away to stroke your cheek with his thumb as he holds your face. “You seriously see a future - of us? With me? I -”

You pull him in for another kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you do so, “Yes, you big dafty!”

He chirps happily. “Well, I suppose I’ve a lot to do, then, haven’t I!”

You take a deep breath in as you brace yourself to potentially let Ralph down. “Yeah, but… look, when I said I was looking into it, I meant as in, like, way into our future, yeah? We’ve got bags of time, I just want to enjoy it all with you, you know?”

To your surprise, Ralph scoffs at you. “Well, naturally. Did you think I would propose to you in this manner? Without so much as a ring? Or even your family’s blessing?”

“Oh, well, that won’t take long at all,” you smirk. “I bet you, when we go have dinner with Mum and Dad next week, by the time we even tell them that we’re together now, Mum’ll be asking you what colour her wedding outfit should be!”

A proud smile bursts onto Ralph’s face, but it quickly fades. “Do you think they’ll fear that us getting a house together is too big of a commitment too quickly?”

“Again. Ralph. They love you,” you reiterate to him, squeezing his hand. “And once they find out you’re responsible for us moving to Southwark, where they are? Dad’ll have gotten himself ordained by the time they bring out desserts just to make sure you’d become a permanent part of the family.”

Ralph’s heart swells hundredfold at the sentiment as he embraces you in yet another kiss. “I suppose I am rather overthinking things, aren’t I?”

“Just a tad,” you scrunch your face up, and he laughs.

“I mean, it’s really no different than when we were living at your flat, really, is it?” He chuckles, and you shake your head.

“Except we could have a pet, now,” you muse, and Ralph sits up straight, his face full of excitement.

“Could we get a cat?!” He beams at you, making you laugh.

“God, you and cats, what is with that?”

“I have a theory,” he muses. “Since Cheese and I got along so well so quickly, I think because we were so similar, he put in a good word with all the other cats. That’s the only explanation there could possibly be.”

After a brief hesitation, you laugh, “Sorry, in what way are you so similar to our old neighbour’s cat?!”

“Well, both of us were sort-of confined to our little flats, neither of us technically supposed to be there. I think he could sense that of me when I first met him, back when I… Upset that neighbour of yours.”

“Because you burnt your toast so badly that you almost suffocated the ninth floor with smoke?” You ask with raised eyebrows, and Ralph slinks back into his seat bashfully.

“Well, I’ve learned now, haven’t I?” He points out.

“That, you have. I’m so proud of how far you’ve come,” you hug his arm, shuffling up to his side. “With everything. How you’ve learned to cope with all this modern stuff, all the stuff you never got to learn growing up, and just… I’m really pleased you’ve been starting to love yourself as much - well, almost as much as I love you,” you simper, resting your head on his arm. “Ugh, god, I really am a sap now, aren’t I?”

Ralph chuckles, pressing a peck onto the top of your head. “At least we can both be, together, eh?”

You sigh contentedly as he wraps his arms around you, pulling the blanket around to make sure you’re both comfortable. You look around at the walls, imagining what decorating with Ralph is going to be like in the coming few weeks, and then picturing the photos you’d hang on there. Travels with Ralph all across the country. Your eventual engagement photos, because of course Ralph’s going to make that moment as photogenic as possible so you’ll have something to capture and savour that memory forever. Wedding photos, all your friends and Ralph’s all dressed up to the nines, singing and dancing the night away to celebrate the pair of you. Pictures of your eventual babies, some with Ralph’s eyes and some with his hair but all of them with his warm, kind smile. Those kids’ first moments, their first smiles, first steps, first day at school.

You break yourself away from your trance-like train of thought to see Ralph’s watching you with all the love that could possibly exist in the world currently living in his gaze. “I’m thinking of the same, too, my love,” he whispers excitedly, as though he’s able to see into your mind telepathically. “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives, either.”

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #ralph timewasters smut #ralph penbury smut #*myfics #fic: ralph

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lunabug2004 · 5 months

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My Amateur Attempt at a Mike Wheeler Analysis (S1, E1):

WARNING: This is a very Mike-defensive analysis! I will be (over)analyzing every Mike scene, episode by episode, but if you’re looking for completely unbiased analyses, this is not where you’ll find them! He is one of my favorite TV characters of all time and I’m sick of all the hate, so I wanted to just put my view of him up somewhere. Also, I ship both Mileven and Byler, but I prefer Byler quite a bit more, so this will mainly be Byler-focused, and I will touch on some of Mike’s queer-coding as well.

Season 1, Episode 1:

Mike is playing DnD with Will, Dustin, and Lucas, acting as the DM. This is an early testament to his intelligence and imagination, as well as his role of leader in the party. When Mike is told to stop playing, he argues with his mom, showing his stubbornness and dedication to the game (and the campaign he took 2 weeks to plan). Then, he sees off his friends, making sure they all leave safely. I love this detail, as it shows how much he cares for his friends at such a young age (I mean, how many 11/12 year olds do you know who would do that?). Thanks to the conversation the boys have about Nancy as they are leaving, we also learn that he and Nancy used to have an okay sibling-relationship, but that hasn’t been the case since at least 4 years ago. As Will is leaving, he tells Mike the truth about the dice-roll, “It was a seven,” and I know this is a little detail, but I like that we can see that Will does not want to lie to Mike, maybe a hint towards how different their relationship/friendship is.

When we next see Mike, it is at breakfast the next morning, and he is putting syrup on his eggs, which grosses out Nancy, and he does the typical younger-sibling move of putting syrup on her eggs too just to annoy her. This same morning, when the boys (minus Will, obv) show up at school and Will is not there, Mike makes a worried comment about it, but the other two boys don’t seem as worried. Then they get intercepted by their bullies, being called “Frog-face”, “Midnight”, and “Toothless”, and after Dustin is targeted by the bullies, Mike tries to comfort him by saying his disability is like he has superpowers. This shows his love for Dustin through his want to defend him, even if it’s not defending him to the bullies’ faces, rather defending him from his own insecurities. This showcasing of Mike’s love comes back into play multiple times throughout the season. I’d also like to point out that Mike decided at a young age to surround himself with “freaks” (Lucas because of his race, Dustin because of his disability, and Will because of his queer traits) despite being relatively normal himself. Now, this might just be because he was originally supposed to have a birthmark on his face and that was supposed to be his “freak-ish” trait, or that he just didn’t realize he was doing this because he obviously doesn’t see these things as bad, but I thought it was still interesting to point out.

When Mr. Clarke shows the boys the radio after class, we learn that Mike is the president of the AV club, then they are taken to talk with Hopper about Will’s case. Mike takes the lead in answering Hop’s questions, now this may just be because Hop calls on him specifically, but I’d like to think it’s also a way to show Mike as the leader of the group. He is the one to bring up helping look for Will, and we can see how serious he is about this because when he is denied this, and Dustin and Lucas start bickering, Mike looks completely annoyed.

He doesn’t give up on this want to help look for Will either, as we see him arguing with Karen about the same thing during dinner, and he still looks extremely annoyed and worried when denied again. When Nancy blames “Will getting lost” for not being able to leave the house, Mike immediately gets very defensive of Will, and outs Nancy’s new relationship with Steve. He looks very proud of himself after this until Ted speaks up with “You see what happens?”, which causes Mike to get defensive all over again, this time exclaiming that he’s the only one who cares about Will, then storming off from the dinner table. Now, I want to touch on Ted’s comment here, because really what other than Will’s “queerness” could he be commenting on here? And this shows us, 1) what type of views Mike’s grown up around, and 2) that Ted must believe there is a chance that Mike shares the same “queerness” as Will. After storming off, Mike goes to the basement, then seemingly after some time staring at the DnD board, he contacts Lucas about going to find Will despite being told not to so many times. By doing this, he directly puts himself and the others in danger, and we know he’s aware of this due to how he convinced Lucas to join him.

We see Mike leave the house, and after joining with the boys, even when it starts to rain, Mike is the most determined to keep going into the woods to search. He’s also very obviously being the leader of the group at this time, making sure to tell the other two to keep close and stay on the same radio channel just in case. When they are walking deeper into the woods, we see Mike in the middle and at the front, then he’s also the first to hear the rustling of the leaves, so he gets the boys to shut up. Then they find Eleven!

There's my episode 1 deep dive! If anyone finds anything explicitly wrong, or wants to add anything, please let me know! Also, if you're interested in me doing more, please tell me, because this is completely self-indulgent, but if others enjoy it I will try even harder! Also, I am completely new to Tumblr, so pls be nice

#mike wheeler analysis #mike wheeler #stranger things #st analysis #byler #Jay's saying stuff :)#Jay's talking ST <3

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matan4il · 6 months

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Daily update post:

The number of murdered victims at the music festival was thought to be over 260. It has now been confirmed to be over 360. IDK if this updates the total figure of victims in the massacre, but if it doesn't (meaning, if this is just identifying which victims were killed at which scene), it means almost a third of the civilians slaughtered by Hamas, were killed at that party. Young people who just wanted to dance, enjoy life and celebrate peace.

This picture from Gaza yesterday shows Hamas terrorists (you can see the RPG one of them is carrying) walking down the street escorted by kids, who are being used as human shields.

And another Hamas terrorist admitting that this is an intentional tactic used by the organization:

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A post shared by יוסף חדאד - Yoseph Haddad (@yosephhaddad)

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A Brit reporting from Israel:

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The Iran-funded Houthis in Yemen have kidnapped a ship for being "Israeli." It's likely rented by an Israeli company, but it's been confirmed that there are no Israelis on board this ship. This incident is a clear escalation from Iran's proxies. The ship was traveling from Turkey to India with an international crew of 22 people, meaning all of their countries are now involved.

UEFA refused to hold a minute of silence for the Israeli victims at the start of a match between the Israeli and Polish youth national teams in soccer, despite the fact that it's customary to do so when terror attacks take place. The youth teams decided on their own not to play during the first minute of the game. Might I add, the Israeli national teams include Arabs.

You might remember that I posted about 12 years old Liel Hezroni being pronounced dead a few days ago. It happened after the evidence showed there was no chance for her to survive what the Hamas terrorists did in the murder scene where the rest of her family's bodies were found (when it's known that she was with them), and despite no body of hers having been identified. Today, remains of a body found by archeologists (employed to help with the ashes of the massacre victims) were confirmed to be hers, and now she can at least be given a proper funeral. May her memory be a blessing.

In case you still think the world is treating Israeli victims fairly, here's a small reminder of how much our lives don't count... When we're putting up posters of our kidnapped women and kids, people feel comfortable ripping them down.

Hamas is claiming the death of a third Israeli hostage in captivity. They claim he died of a heart attack. Yeah, that might happen to an 86 year old kidnapped and tortured. And if that's what happened, then it's still murder.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #antisemitism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #Instagram

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velidewrites · 1 year

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Summary: When 19-year old Feyre Archeron voluntarily takes her sister's place in the Hunger Games, she expects nothing but her imminent demise. But Feyre is a survivor, and as she is thrown into a battle between life and death, she discovers there are things worth fighting for.

Pairing: Feysand

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of blood and gore, Feyre being sexy and unhinged, wait a second is that Rhysand? Is he also sexy and unhinged? AKA Feysand (literally) slaying the game

Read: Chapter II || Chapter III || Fic Masterlist || AO3

Chapter I: May The Odds Be Ever In Your Favour

From the Treaty of the Treason:

In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and female between the ages of 12 and 21 at a public “Reaping.”

These Tributes shall be delivered to the custody of The Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains.

Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as The Hunger Games.

***

The sun rose over the forest, waking up her prey.

Most of them had not yet shaken off winter’s cold embrace, buried safely underground in a deep slumber. But it was spring now—still in its early days, perhaps, though like many others in District 12, Feyre Archeron had exhausted her patience.

She was ready to hunt.

The morning frost covered the ground beneath her feet as she looked for animal prints. She’d take anything, at this point—the past few months had been colder than expected, and their icy breeze seemed to have permanently settled in the pit of her stomach, growling occasionally to remind her of its presence. As if she hadn’t already known. Hunger, these days, felt like the most stable companion she’d had in years.

A bush rattled somewhere, cutting through the silence, and Feyre’s grip on her bow tightened.

With her mind cursing the loud, heavy boots she’d chosen for the hunt—the only pair she owned apart from her slippers, really—she made way towards the sound, each step careful not to alert her prey. She’d done that too many times, stepping on a dried out branch like a fool, moments before firing the fatal shot. She couldn’t afford to do that again.

The bush rattled again, and Feyre reached for an arrow.

Please, please be a deer.

Another rattle. Feyre took another step, her heart pounding in her chest.

A deer would be good. More than good, actually—a catch like this would feed her and her family for a week, if not more. She could almost picture the look on Elain’s face as she placed its carcass on the kitchen table. Her sister could use some good news after the winter they’d had, and especially on a day like this.

Feyre shook her head, forcing her mind back into focus.

Two winters ago, she’d caught a wolf. It had been the best day of her life. Her family didn’t know hunger for three weeks, and Elain had sewn her a flimsy fur coat. Even Nesta had smiled a little bit.

I take back my wish, Feyre thought. Can you be a wolf instead?

The bush rattled for the final time, and, with a loud gurgle, her victim made its final step into the light.

“Oh, please,” Feyre groaned out loud, and fired the arrow straight through the turkey’s heart.

Served her right for setting her hopes so high. A wolf. How ridiculous, she thought, kneeling by the dead bird to pull the arrow out. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Feyre murmured. “At least you’re fat. Thanks for that, I guess.”

“You are disturbingly good at that,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Feyre shot up to her feet, whipping her head to its source. “Shit,” she swore, placing a hand on her racing heart. “You scared me!”

Arms crossed as he leaned against a tree, Isaac offered her a coy smile. “Sorry,” he said, his shaggy brown curls shimmering in the sun as he angled his head in wonder. “Who’s this little guy?”

Feyre raised the bird in front of her, making the show of displaying it in its full might. “That,” she said, a sly smile playing on her lips, “is my dinner.”

“Ah,” Isaac said. “Not a great way to start off the day. For him, I mean.”

Feyre shrugged, pulling the arrow out of the squelching flesh. “We all have to survive somehow.”

Something flashed in Isaac’s eyes as he took in her words. “Yes,” he said, his expression dimming. “I know.”

Feyre bit on her lip, her head dipping to the bloodied arrow in her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Relax, Feyre,” he said, taking a step in her direction. “I just came to watch you hunt.”

Shoving the turkey into her hunting bag, Feyre grimaced. “I’m afraid you’re in for a huge disappointment.”

“Still nothing, huh?”

“Just this pathetic little guy,” she said, patting the brown leather, then frowned. “I probably shouldn’t say that minutes after killing him.”

Isaac stared at her for a moment, then at the bag, its worn-out fabric already staining red. “He’s no less pathetic than the rest of us,” he finally said.

“What do you mean?” Feyre asked.

But Isaac had already turned away, his gaze focused on a point high up in the trees, where another bird chirped a sad melody.

“Mockingjay,” Isaac hummed, those absent eyes closing in content.

Pain stung at her chest as she watched him, so close within her reach, and yet so far away. She had barely known him before he returned from the Capitol two years ago, but she did remember him as the kind baker’s son who had always used to smile.

Now, Isaac only smiled when his mind escaped to a better place.

Sometimes, Feyre wished he would take her there with him—somewhere where she wouldn’t have to worry about the cold, the hunger, the looming realisation that this wretched reality would never change. Perhaps that was why she felt so drawn to him—in a world of pain and uncertainty, Isaac was a brief escape to peace.

“Do you know what day it is, Feyre?” his voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She assumed he’d dismissed her presence by now.

She answered him anyway.

“The Reaping.”

Isaac nodded. “The Capitol’s hunt.”

Feyre’s brows knotted in confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at.”

At last, Isaac turned to her with a sigh. “How different, do you think, are we from your turkey?” He gestured to the bag at her side. “We, too, live out our lives in fear, our only hope to escape those who prey upon us.” Isaac shrugged. “The answer, Feyre, is: you and that turkey? You’re one and the same. The Capitol’s forest is only a little larger.”

A shiver went down her spine at the words, spoken behind the border yet dangerous nonetheless. They wouldn’t—couldn’t—hurt Isaac, not anymore, but her? She was fair game, and Isaac’s reflections were treason.

He must have realised this, and he flinched visibly, as if shaking off some haze. “I think I should go,” Isaac said, turning to her again with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Ignoring the cold filling her veins, Feyre nodded. “I’ll walk you home.”

They walked through the forest, neither of them saying a word, even the mockingjays having seemingly decided to stay behind. Feyre couldn’t blame them. In Panem, not even birds were safe.

Especially not in District Twelve. Frankly, Feyre was surprised birds as beautiful as the mockingjay had still bothered to visit the place. Only ravens and magpies seemed to remain now, pests, as Nesta liked to call them, though Feyre had never agreed. They were drawn to jewels—to anything that glinted, really—scouting for any sparkle in the ground they could find. As if the stars they’d flown with in the night had not been enough. Feyre envied them, if anything. She used to dream of touching the stars, too.

Even the jewels were out of her reach, so far out, in fact, that she counted herself lucky if she managed to get her hands on coal. Coal, minerals—for the longest time, they had been her district’s export. The mines hid wonders of immeasurable beauty and infinite riches, her father used to tell her. Immeasurable beauty and infinite riches—it was no wonder the Capitol would put its hands all over them as soon as they’d see the light of day.

Isaac used to work at the mines, just like her father had. He never had to—his own father’s bakery had been doing a good enough job to sustain the family over the winter—but he volunteered. Feyre didn’t know the whole story, but according to Elain, Isaac had taken an old man’s place, too sick to answer the Capitol’s call to labour. And so, at seventeen, her friend had gone into the mines to become “his District’s pride.”

He had only stayed there two years, of course. Feyre remembered that day as clear as yesterday.

It had been the first time she’d been allowed to watch the Hunger Games. In what Nesta had called a foolish, ridiculous effort to spare them from the world’s cruelty, their father would send them to bed early, every night from the day the Games began to the day they ended. Nesta and Elain would always sneak out, watching the screen in horror from where Father could not see. Feyre had stayed, and would continue to do so until he died.

She was seventeen, and Nesta has hardly shared Father’s sentiment. It’s my last year, she’d said. If they choose me, at least I’ll have some comfort in knowing my sister are watching until the very end.

But they had not chosen Nesta, a girl called Clare Beddor taking the female Tribute’s title. She’d died almost immediately.

The last time Feyre had seen Clare—in real life, not getting butchered on the small screen at her kitchen counter—was when she stood in front of the District’s Hall of Justice, tears streaming down her face as she shook the hand of the male Tribute beside her.

Isaac Hale had not cried that day.

He never cried after his return, either, though he was never quite the same. The Capitol hadn’t let him mentor last year, and from the rumours, he wouldn’t mentor in this edition, either. He’s getting a well-deserved rest, the news would say. He’s gone mad, the locals would whisper. But Feyre knew they were all wrong.

Isaac was simply…broken.

“Mind your head,” he told her gently as they leaned under the electric fence.

She’d have to turn right to head home, but Feyre had promised to walk him back to the Victors’ Village, and she fully intended on keeping that promise.

She’d never been into his house. He told here there were cameras.

The noise grew louder, and soon enough, they reached the black market, its merchants shouting over each other, each of them claiming to have the freshest, most affordable produce from Eleven. Feyre avoided them all like the plague, unless she herself had something to trade. It had been far more enjoyable to look at their stock knowing she could do more than simply look.

“Does my eye deceive me?” A raspy laugh reached them. “Feyre Archeron, back from the hunt!”

She turned to the old man with a polite smile. “I’ve got nothing for you today, Andras.”

His one, yellow eye narrowed. “And Isaac Hale, back from the dead.”

Beside her, Isaac paled.

Feyre gripped the sleeve of his tunic, nudging him forward. “I’ll come on a better day,” she offered. The man only shrugged.

Isaac stopped her at the end of the street. “I can make my way from here.”

Her brows furrowed. “It’s okay, I can…”

He placed a hand on her arm. “Feyre. Go home, eat your turkey. I’ll be okay.”

Her hand covered his own, and she did her best to keep herself intact. “We could run away, you know.” She swallowed hard. “We could get away with it, you and I.”

For the first time, Isaac truly and openly smiled. “I’ll see you at the Reaping, Feyre.”

***

The smell of blood and carcass filled the house as soon as Feyre stepped foot inside.

Living on the outskirts of the District borders was a blessing, really. Feyre couldn’t imagine having to sneak past the centre’s Peacekeepers with a bow in hand and arrows on her back—not if she wanted to make it out alive, or with fifteen lashes taking her quiver’s place at the very least.

She had already learned her lesson once, though, with five long scars creasing her back if she ever dared forget it. She wouldn’t—that one time was enough to make her cautious. On busier days, she’d leave her hunting gear in the small hollow of the oak tree five minutes north of the electric fence. If any of the Peacekeepers confiscated her bow, it would be over. She could sell everything she owned, and she still most likely wouldn’t have been able to afford one. Bows, after all, were illegal to civilians, and the black market prices had been absurd these days.

And so, the only thing carried by Feyre today was the dead, bloodied turkey, her bag heavy with its stench. It was worse than she thought, it seemed, judging by the sickly green hue of Elain’s skin as she handed her the bird.

“Feyre,” her name came with a sigh of relief. “You’re home early.”

“Still nothing?” Nesta cut in, rising from the chair at the kitchen table.

Feyre’s lips formed a thin line. “This was the best I could do.”

Silence fell over the room, filled only by the distant sounds of scratchy caws—ravens, Feyre realised, picking whatever lunch they could find off the streets.

Elain, thankfully, was the one to break it. “I laid out some clean clothes for you on the bed.” The one bed they all shared all winter, keeping each other warm. “So that you can look nice at the…later today.”

Elain wiped her hands on the apron nervously, trying to mask the way they shook as she almost said the word that made her skin crawl and the blood drain from her face. The Reaping.

Her throat tight, Feyre forced her eyes back to her sister’s face. “Thank you.”

Elain nodded, still trembling slightly as she placed the turkey on the red-stained cutting board. Feyre’s heart clenched at the sight, her own dread forgotten in light of Elain’s, who’d been enduring this for far too long. Who, year after year, had watched her neighbours, her friends, leave and never return. Slaughtered on a tiny screen the Capitol had forced into their house, their anguished screams the only goodbye they could offer. Elain, for whom this Reaping could only mean one thing—death or freedom, a permanent release from Panem’s blood debt.

At twenty-one, this year marked the last time Elain could be drafted as District Twelve’s female tribute. It also marked her name being added to the pool for the tenth time. Tenth.

They all knew what it meant.

“You’re not going to be chosen,” Feyre said, her voice cutting through the dismal silence. “There are so many people your age in our District. They’re going to draw someone else’s name, and you’re going to go about your day like you do each year,” she dragged the words out, her eyes never leaving her sister’s. She could only hope they carried as much confidence as her tone did. “And then, you’ll finally be free. Like Nesta,” Feyre looked to her eldest sister, who nodded in affirmation. “And like so many others in Twelve. Okay?”

Elain loosed a shaky breath. “Okay,” she said, and took Feyre’s hands in hers. “We both will. You only have two years left, and then everything is going to be fine. Better.”

It was true—she did have two years left, but it seemed as though each year, there were less and less of District Twelve’s kids left. At the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, her name would be in the pool eight times.

Nesta’s name had never been drawn, and neither would Elain’s. Perhaps fate would be merciful to the Archeron sisters—perhaps it would see the life they led each day and decide it was punishment enough.

Feyre squeezed her sister’s hands back, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Of course.”

At last, her sister smiled, then let go, her hands moving to smooth out her apron yet again. “I’ll draw you a bath. You stink, you know.”

Feyre laughed at that. “I know.”

With a small shake of her head, Elain disappeared into the adjacent room, the door clicking lightly behind her.

“They probably wouldn’t mind seeing you with blood on your hands,” Nesta’s voice sounded behind her. “It’s how they like us best.”

Feyre turned to meet the icy blue of her stare. “A little help would have been appreciated.”

Nesta waved a hand. “You and I both know she won’t stop fidgeting until it’s all over.”

With a sigh, Feyre dropped to the wooden seat, her forehead resting against the roughened table’s surface. A wave of tiredness crashed into her all of a sudden, washing over every aching limb until she wanted nothing but to fall asleep right where she was sat. “I suppose you’re right.”

A loud creak of the chair moving beside her signalled Nesta taking her seat.

“Was there truly nothing in the woods?” her sister finally asked.

That woke Feyre right back up. “You think I lied before?”

“Of course not,” Nesta said calmly, crossing her arms on the table. “I just think you should take a break for a day or two. You might even find more of those birds if you’re well-rested.”

Teeth digging into the inside of her cheek, Feyre accused, “You’re making fun of me.”

“I really am not,” Nesta sighed, two slender fingers moving to rub her temple. “But Feyre, this turkey you caught will last us three days at best. What then?”

Anger began to boil in the pit of her stomach, rising steadily with each word. “Nesta, I already told you I’m doing the best I can.”

Another sigh. “I know, Feyre, I only mean that…”

“If you’re so dissatisfied with my hunting, maybe you should try it out yourself.”

Nesta straightened in her seat. “That is not what I meant.”

Her hands curled into fists. “No, I think that’s precisely what you meant.” She met Nesta’s gaze and her eyes narrowed. “Winter or not, I hunt every single day. What do you do to help us survive?”

Flames rose in Nesta's cold, hardened stare, her jaw clenching tight as she measured Feyre’s form beside her. “You have no idea,” she said, her tone practically seething, “You have no idea what I’ve done to help this family. What I’ve been doing ever since Father gave up on us, then died like the coward he was. What I’ll continue to do,” she added, her voice breaking slightly, “until both you and Elain no longer need me.”

Feyre opened her mouth, but it was Elain’s words that sounded beside her. “We’ll always need you, Nesta.”

Feyre turned to face her, and Elain reached for both her sisters’ hands, her doe-like eyes shining with concern. “We’ll always need each other.”

Neither of them said anything, and Elain released them with a sigh. “Your bath is ready, Feyre.”

Feyre rose from the table, stepping towards the bathroom before turning to face Nesta one last time. “Will you skin the turkey while I’m gone?”

With a small nod, Nesta stood as well. “Of course."

***

Elain had chosen a pretty dress, long and made of blue linen, though Feyre still thought she looked ridiculous. It didn’t help that her sister decided a braid would be most suitable for such an outfit, golden-brown and thrown over the side of Feyre’s shoulder. She wouldn’t be surprised if she got thrown in with the fourteen year olds.

When the alarm sounded, all thoughts of the dress and her hair evaporated from Feyre’s head.

“It’s time,” Nesta told them, already at the door.

Feyre took Elain’s hand and squeezed it once. Her sister did not answer.

They walked with the crowd, large and beige and never-ending. At least the spring breeze accompanied them, and, not for the first time in her life, Feyre was grateful Twelve rarely suffered a scorching sun.

Families moved slowly around them, an aura of whispers and murmurs hanging in the air as parents assured their kids that it would all turn out okay. Feyre had never wanted nothing more than to believe them.

“Feyre,” Elain said quietly, her jaw tight enough for Feyre to notice how hard she fought to keep it from trembling.

She squeezed her hand once more. “I’ll tell you what, Elain,” she said. “When we get back, we’ll each have another, small serving of the turkey. Okay?” she asked, and Elain nodded. “Good. It will give you something to look forward to. For the entirety of this Reaping, I want you to think of nothing but how good the food is going to be.”

“It was really nice,” Elain admitted.

Feyre smiled. “Exactly.”

“Peacekeepers,” Nesta warned beside them. They were getting close, the massive sign in the distance signalling they have reached the Hall of Justice.

“Wait, Nesta—” Elain began.

Nesta looked firmly into her eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Do not make a scene.”

With a hard swallow, Elain nodded.

And with that, Nesta moved aside to join the audience of grieving parents, siblings and friends.

“Elain,” Feyre told her one last time. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

Elain exclaimed in shock as a white-dressed, masked man grabbed her arm, pulling them apart. She thrashed for only a second before realising she was being held by a Peacekeeper.

“Registration,” the man barked.

Elain nodded frantically, and Feyre dared one last look at her sister before joining her queue.

Moments later, she was greeted by a stern-looking woman whose expression reminded her of Nesta.

“Name.”

“Feyre Archeron,” she breathed.

It would be okay. She’d done this millions of times.

Without another word, the woman reached for her hand, pulling it toward her violently before pricking her finger to draw blood. Feyre hissed as she pressed the fresh cut to a piece of paper, right beneath an awfully bad photo of her, dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks more hollow than the deepest of Twelve’s mines.

Some things never change, Feyre thought bitterly.

With that, she joined her sector, taking her place somewhere in the middle—close enough to see the large, white screen set beside the stage, but far enough to not be able to make out the faces of the Hall’s officials, standing straight and dressed in grey.

The queues behind her shortened within minutes, and when the last child took their place in the audience, the screen lit up without warning.

“War,” a voice rumbled over the crowds, old and wise and with a hint of grandfatherly authority that she’d gotten to know so well over the years. “Terrible war.

“Such a vile, cruel act,” President Hybern’s words continued to sound over the speakers, with images of smoke and fire flaring up the screen one by one. “An act that pushed our country into its greatest trial.”

Another bomb set off with an amplified thud.

“Seventy-four years ago, the thirteen Districts rebelled against the country that fed them, loved them, protected them. Their malevolence spreading nothing but hate and destruction over Panem.” Now, the screen showed the Districts—Seven and Ten, from what little Feyre could make out—with their Halls of Justice on fire, their buildings nothing more than gravel on the streets. Another image showed a woman holding a small child, crying out in agony over its lifeless body. “Widows, orphans, a motherless child. This,” the President emphasised over a clip of children weeping, “was the uprising that rocked our land until nothing remained.”

A girl standing beside Feyre sucked in a breath.

“And then came the peace,” the President’s voice was now calm, serene, as the screen displayed Eleven’s wheat fields, floating atop the wind’s gentle breeze. “A Capitol rose up from the ashes and created a new era of prosperity. Of love. Of family.” A child ran up to their mother, launching into her arms, both of them laughing in happiness.

“But peace comes at a cost,” Hybern warned. “Together as a nation, we swore we would never know such destruction again. Would never know such treason again.”

Feyre almost rolled her eyes, bracing herself for what was coming.

“And so it was decreed,” President Hybern announced proudly, “that each year, the Districts of Panem would offer up in tribute one young man and woman, to fight to the death in a pageant of honour, courage and sacrifice.” A young man on the screen stood on a podium topless, his muscles glistening in the sun, as he threw up his hands in victory. “The lone victor,” the President continued, “bathed in riches, would serve as a reminder of the Capitol’s generosity and forgiveness. This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future. This is how we stand together. As a family, as a nation. As Panem.”

With that, the video cut off.

Feyre had never heard the District’s centre be so silent.

And then, the door flung open, and a woman stepped in, her hands joined in a loud applause.

“Wasn’t this just beautiful?” she asked into the microphone at the stage’s centre, her voice dripping with syrup.

Feyre hadn’t seen her before—the Capitol must’ve sent someone new.

She was beautiful, to be sure—everyone in the Capitol was, or so the Districts were told, at least. Her face was covered with a thick layer of foundation so white she would have merged into the Hall’s wall behind her had it not been for her hair—crimson red, and long, falling in waves to her back and crowned with large black flowers Feyre had never seen in her life.

Feyre could just barely make out her face—nothing special, she decided. Dark eyes, straight nose. Pretty, she supposed, though she might have not been the best person to consult on such matters. Coal, on the other hand…

She didn’t even realise she’d snorted at her inner dialogue until the girl beside her elbowed her straight in the guts. She muttered a low “Ow!” before the girl’s glare told her all she needed to know.

Diverting her attention back to the crimson woman, Feyre listened again. “Now,” she crooned. “The time has come for us to select our courageous Tributes!” she clapped her hands again, and Feyre thought she had never seen a more idiotic spectacle in her life.

The woman winked, red-painted lips twisting in a smile. “If you were paying attention to the lovely video, you know we’re going to choose one lovely man and woman for the absolute honour of representing District Twelve!”

For a woman like her, Feyre supposed, everything must have been lovely. Even the imminent deaths of the two children she was about to hand-pick from her ridiculous crystal bowl.

“As always,” she winked again. “Ladies first.”

With a loud click of her heels on the wooden stage, she made way towards the bowl on Feyre’s right, a perfectly manicured hand dipping inside.

Feyre’s heard stopped. This was the time.

A few more seconds, and it will all be over.

Breathe.

Elain, I’ll let you have my extra serving, she swore in her head. Just let it all be over.

In the few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Feyre wondered if the bowl was made from real crystal, and if yes, if it had been her father’s dead hands that mined it.

And then, the crimson woman pulled out two cards.

She weighed them down in each hand, making a show of choosing before settling on the card on her left, the right card dropping back into the bowl.

Torturously slowly, she stepped back to the microphone and opened the card, her delighted smile now clear on the screen at the stage.

“The female tribute from District Twelve is…” She looked to the crowd, her eyebrows rising in feigned suspense. “Elain Archeron.”

No.

No no no no no no

“Elain Archeron?”

Please.

The ringing in her head was deafening.

“Where is the lovely Elain?”

Please.

Someone pushed Elain out of the crowd, her usually beautiful face now white as death.

Feyre’s whole body burned as she watched Elain move toward the stage on shaky legs.

“There you are! Oh, you’re gorgeous!” the crimson woman praised. “Come closer, dear, let us all have a look at you!”

A Peacekeeper pushed her closer, and Elain stumbled over a step.

Not Elain.

It couldn’t have been Elain.

It shouldn’t have been Elain.

No.

“No,” Feyre said out loud, her legs moving on their own accord. “No!” She shouted, pushing her way out of the crowd. “ELAIN!”

Elain’s head whipped back, and those doe eyes have never held such fear.

Two Peacekeepers reached her in seconds, holding Feyre back and into the crowd again. “No! LET ME GO!” Feyre trashed, kicking one of them in the shin.

She forced herself free.

“I VOLUNTEER!” Feyre shrieked with a strength her lungs had never known before.

Her entire body stilled, as if she’d surprised it just as much as the crowd around her.

“I volunteer as Tribute.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

“My, my!” the presenter wondered. “I believe we have a volunteer!”

The crowd began to murmur.

“Come on up, my dear.”

It had only been by Feyre’s sheer will that her feet carried her forward. She didn’t stop until she reached Elain, still frozen in place.

“Feyre,” Elain breathed, tears falling freely down her face.

“It’s okay,” Feyre whispered. “You’re okay.”

She didn’t know how she managed her way through the stairs and onto the stage, but within the next few moments, Feyre stood beside the crimson woman, her appearance even more ghastly up close.

“What is your name, my dear?” she asked.

Feyre looked over the crowd, her head still spinning.

Someone subtly cleared their throat beside her.

“What?” she turned toward the sound.

“I asked about your name, dear.”

“Feyre,” her voice was hoarse, and she swallowed hard. “Feyre Archeron.”

“Ah,” the woman acknowledged with a motherly nod. “And am I right in assuming that was your sister whose place you have just taken?”

Feyre nodded, her eyes still searching the crowd. “Yes.” Was Elain safe? Was Nesta? “Yes.”

“Well, Feyre Archeron, you are District Twelve’s first volunteer!” she turned to the microphone, addressing the crowd. “Such bravery. Such heart. Congratulations, lovely Feyre.”

Congratulations?

The woman clasped her hands together. “And now for the gentlemen!” she said happily, making her way to the other bowl.

Feyre’s heart sank as she realised her sisters were no longer in the crowd, and neither was Isaac. What happened to them? Where did they take them?

Oh, Isaac, Feyre thought. We should have ran away.

“The male Tribute from District Twelve,” the woman’s voice sounded loudly beside her again, shaking Feyre out of her daze, “is Tamlin Rosethorn.”

The florist’s son.

He stepped out of the crowd, pale yet standing tall and strong. His muscles reflected through his white shirt as he stepped onto the stage.

“Go on,” the woman encouraged with a smile. “Shake hands.”

Tamlin locked her hand in a tight grip, and as Feyre met his emerald gaze, she wondered if he would kill her first.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your Tributes from District Twelve!” she exclaimed for the final time to no applause but the sound of Panem’s anthem playing over the speakers. “Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favour!”

“Come now,” she now addressed the two of them directly. “Inside.”

Feyre did not know how she got pushed into one of the Hall’s rooms and sat on a chair, the door locking her inside. “Wait here,” a muffled voice told her.

So Feyre waited.

An eternity, or maybe a second, had passed when the door opened again, two figures launching themselves in.

Feyre shot up from her seat.

“One minute,” the muffled voice told them.

Elain was sobbing as she threw her arms around Feyre’s neck. “Feyre. My beautiful Feyre.”

“Everything will be okay,” Feyre told her, forcing strength into her voice.

For Elain.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Feyre. I would’ve—”

“It’s done now,” Feyre said, pulling away to meet her sister’s gaze. “Listen, I don’t have much time.”

“Promise you will make it out,” Elain begged.

“I promise,” Feyre lied.

Her head now turned to Nesta, who began, “Feyre—”

“I need you to listen to me carefully,” Feyre cut her off. “My bow and arrows are hidden in the tallest oak tree in the forest, five minutes north of the fence by the house. Talk to Isaac. He will teach you how to shoot.” Nesta nodded, and for the first time, Feyre saw silver lining her sister’s eyes. “Take care of her.”

Nesta nodded again. “I always have.”

Feyre loosed a breath of relief. “I know,” she said, then pulled Nesta into their embrace.

“Time’s up,” someone said behind them, and Feyre took a step back.

“Try to win. Please,” Nesta told her.

There was nothing else to say, so Feyre said nothing. Soon, her sisters were escorted out.

“You only have thirty seconds,” a Peacekeeper told her, and another visitor appeared in the doorway.

“Isaac,” Feyre breathed, but he stopped her before she could waste their time with nothing but empty goodbyes.

“You can hunt,” he said, his eyes cleared and more determined than ever. “Use it.”

Feyre shook her head. “We both know I’m already dead, Isaac.”

He opened his mouth, but Feyre stopped him. “Take care of them. Please, promise that whatever you do, you won’t let them starve.”

At that, Isaac wrapped his arms around her. “I will,” he whispered into her ear. “I promise.”

They looked at each other one last time, and Feyre said, “We should’ve run away, like I told you.”

He offered her a sad smile. “You’d never leave your sisters, Feyre. Only death could ever stand between you.”

“Yes,” Feyre said, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I know.”

With that, Isaac left, and as the door closed quietly behind him, Feyre stepped into her new reality.

She was truly alone.

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @fieldofdaisiies @vulpes-fennec @houseofhurricane @reverie-tales @kingofsummer93 @melting-houses-of-gold @labellefleur-sauvage @shadowriel @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @headcanonheadcase

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dailymichifer · 1 year

Text

[Archive] fuckyeahlucifersupernatural's fics

fuckyeahlucifer (or carvedwhalebones) is a writer who disappeared from ao3 with their much beloved +89 SPN fics (a lot of Samifer fics and other Lucifer-ships fics) Many have been lost forever, but not all of them, thanks to the Internet Archive.

Here are all the SPN fics I could find:

[Michifer] The Way We Are 'Michael imagines that if he were to sink his teeth into the forbidden fruit, it’d taste just like his little brother.'

[Michifer] Spitting Blood "Sometimes the calm before the storm is all you can hold onto."

[Michifer] Little Brother Michael discovers his punishment within the Cage and he's ready to make it end.

[Michifer] Yuanfen E. They were the founding fathers of physical intimacy and so much more. (bondage, collars)

[Samifer, Nick/Sam] The Devil Wears White "Have you ever confused a dream with a life?" Sam Winchester's been sent to a mental institute, claiming there are demons and angels. In there he makes an unhealthy alliance with a patient, Nick, who wants to keep Sam all to himself.

[Samifer] Snow Sam would do anything to see Dean again. (Season 7, self mutilation)

[Samifer] One True Vessel The patients near the ward mumble and murmur in fear of the one who prowls through the ward. They whisper of a ‘Lucifer’ looking for his ‘one true vessel'... (Sam, Lucifer, Nick)

[Samifer] A Little Piece of Heaven The incident with Gadreel and Dean leaves him more than just broken. Sam moves out of the bunker in search of his little piece of heaven. (Post Gadree, Hurt/Comfort)

[Samifer] Thicker Than Blood M. Who is he to deny his king? (Sam 'boy king of Hell' Winchester)

[Samifer] The Last Truth M. 'He’s broken and Lucifer is still staring at him as if he’s a gift — something to be mounted on a pedestal.' (Sam, Lucifer, Hallucifer, Gadreel, Angst/Comfort, Major character death)

[Samifer] Blood & Creation E. "Lucifer is the only one treated as Sam’s equal, his release from The Cage signifying the reign of Hell and the Era of The Boy King."

[Samifer & Ducifer] Common Ground Despite the favorable odds, Lucifer doesn’t share his first kiss on Earth with Sam Winchester.

[Anna/Lucifer] Lady Lazarus M. The common ground between them is stained heavily in blood. (Serial Killers au)

[Gabriel/Lucifer] Ugly Kind of Love E. "I'll show you an 'ugly kind of love.'" And he did. (Tags; Hammer of the Gods, Major character death, noncon)

Enjoy!

Edit (2023-03-04) 6 more fics!

[Samifer] Speaking in Tongues Sam tries to speak Enochian to Lucifer.

[Samifer] Guardian Angel Guardian Angel (n): An angel believed to have special affection for a particular individual.

[Samifer] Dog Days (chapter 1) God comes to Lucifer with a deal: If Sam accepts Lucifer for who he is (warts and all), he will win his freedom and be with his one true vessel. The catch is that he won't be able to converse with Sam due to being changed into a runt of a puppy.

[Samifer] Home Lucifer helps Sam find a sense of home in his room.

[Samifer] Little Birds Ch1 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Sam finds out that when angels are at their weakest, they become little birds.

[Anna Milton/Lucifer] What Devils Do Lucifer has been keeping an eye on Anna Milton for a while now, and it's only a matter of time until the tables turn and he's on top. Literally.

edit (2023-08-12) GREAT NEWS

As you may know, some madmad archived the entirety of AO3 a few years ago.

I downloaded their metadata file (index) and typing the pseudo "fuckyeahsupernatural" gave me 181 results. All 181 of their fics (SPN, Legion, Dishonored) have been saved and the epubs are in zip files that can be found here:

I converted the index into a pdf: you can use it to find the location of each fic in the zip files. LINK -> EDIT better link HERE (spn fics only)

EDIT2: use this file to access the fics directly & download them

#fic #archive #michifer #samifer #ducifer #lubriel #anna spn #lucifer spn #michael spn #sam winchester #gabriel spn

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 9 months

Note

Debut: Pressed Against the Glass by Gleefulpoppet Page-turning: Show Me Love, Show Me Life CoffeeAddict80 Tissues: Since Sense Sensory by Gleefulpoppet Unusual Oc: Wild & Free by scatterthestars Wild Card: - fLUSTered by scatterthestars Summer: Day 06 - Mirrors by CoffeeAddict80 [Mentions/Dreams of summer] Challenge: Rock Paper Scissors by Gleefulpoppet LOL: Stranger than Crackfiction by Gleefulpoppet Don't normally read. Love Me At Once by redheadgleek

Thank you, I've been working on this for three hours now and wish I had gotten it to you sooner! (I know there are duplicates but they are my favorite authors, sorry!)

Here's the full, and probably final list on Klaine Bingo 2023 - thanks for your card! ~Jen

Debut fic: Pressed Against the Glass by @gleefulpoppet

Is it possible that the most extraordinary love story ever told starts on a chilly October morning in New York with an impromptu twirl and an elbow to a stranger’s face? Kurt wouldn’t have thought so, but when it happens, his heart stops. It’s just one touch, but is that all it takes to believe? Should he take a chance and never look back? But what happens when the stranger runs away, even though he finally feels complete and brought to life? Is it just a dream—or will he let his walls come down? Will they live with regrets or find the love that will make them feel young forever?

AKA: The one about soulmates (by choice) and the italicized Oh.

2. Page-turning fic: Show Me Love, Show Me Life CoffeeAddict80 @caramelcoffeeaddict

When Blaine Anderson became a vampire over 800 years ago, he gave up on the idea of having close relationships – platonic or romantic – with anyone. As long as he could still have sex, feelings were unnecessary. But there was something different about the new transfer student, Kurt Hummel, that kept drawing him in. Kurt was unlike anyone Blaine had ever met. And Blaine was starting to think that he wasn’t the only one at Dalton with a supernatural secret. To most people, Kurt Hummel seems like your average high schooler; but there's nothing average about him. Kurt is a warlock – a warlock that can’t use magic. When he was born, his magic went dormant, and no one knows why. But sometimes, he's capable of things that no one – not even Kurt himself – can explain.

3. Fic where you reached for a box of tissues: Since Sense Sensory by @gleefulpoppet

One rainy night, nestled at a patio table of a small café, Kurt broke off his engagement with Blaine in a moment of heated frustration that had been building for weeks. That was 12 years ago, and they haven’t seen each other since. Suddenly, they may find themselves reunited in a place they never expected. If you had a second chance with your first love, would you take it?

Mostly canon-compliant through the Season 6 breakup (they do not return to Lima to teach). Alternative Universe after the breakup with non-traditional Dom/sub themes. Please see the author’s notes.

4. Fic where one has an unusual occupation: Wild & Free by @scatter-the-stars

There are sides of fame that Blaine can deal with. Has learned to deal with. But when the story of his sexuality breaks, he is sure the attention and talk surrounding him will finally be the thing to break him.

Needing to get away, he finds peace and solace in the last place he expects. But he also finds Kurt.

Without the eyes of the world on him, Blaine finds himself living for the first time in years without fear or worry. But what he really finds himself doing is falling for the guy he never saw coming.

Can he get his happily ever after even though they live in two different worlds?

5. Wild Card: - fLUSTered by @scatter-the-stars

Blaine just wants one night to forget everything. He gets more than that when he opens the door to the mystery that is Kurt.

6. Summer story: Day 06 - Mirrors by CoffeeAddict80 [Mentions/Dreams of summer] @caramelcoffeeaddict

Blaine finds his soulmate, but there is something different about him. This is the story of their first ten days together.

7. Fic written for a challenge: Rock Paper Scissors by @gleefulpoppet

Kurt and his seven-year-old daughter are moving from the hustle and bustle of New York to the Rocky Mountains for a fresh start. On a connecting flight from Atlanta, they meet a warmhearted man who captures their attention with his enthusiasm. Will they ever see him again? And even if they do, how will he fit into their new life?

This story is for the Klaine Word Scramble 2022 Challenge on Tumblr!

8. Fics that make you laugh out loud: Stranger than Crackfiction by @gleefulpoppet

In the magical land of Hollywood where dreams come true, there’s an adage that states, "It’s impossible to tell what is real and what is fiction." It’s even harder for Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson to separate as they were thrown into stardom overnight six years ago, and their show, His & His, is still the hottest thing on TV. Add to that being head over heels in love with each other, addicted to fanfiction, and have a propensity for roleplaying, and it’s got everyone buzzing as fans try to decide what these Hollywood stars are up to. Because sometimes, reality is stranger than crackfiction.

9.Genre/trope you don't normally read: Love Me At Once by @redheadgleek

As the second son, Prince Blaine Andreason never really had any expectations for what his life would be, beyond horseback riding and reading in the garden. And then his brother is cursed by an evil fairy to sleep for a hundred years and he sets off on a secret rescue mission. He never expected to meet Kurt, the blacksmith's son, who could alter the course of his life forever. That is, if he can manage to stay alive.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine bingo 2023

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ampleappleamble · 11 days

Text

15 lines of dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

tagged! by @dragonologist-phd like ten thousand years ago! (i didn't forget or deliberately shun you i promise, i'm just very very forgetful and tired all the time ♡) and more recently by @solas-backpack-mug for the same thing! i've been thinking of re-editing and possibly continuing Anthem Infinitum, my PoE1 novelization starring Best Girl and the Gods' Favorite Punching Bag Axa Mala, so honestly this prompt couldn't have come at a better time. here's her Greatest Hits:

all of these quotes are from Anthem Infinitum, because my other fics don't feature her as prominently (if at all). i may have goofed up some of the formatting somewhere between copy and paste. [...] indicates excised surrounding narrative text.

1. "I lost my academic standing, my career, my… everything. So now I'm here. Because it was this or killing myself, and with my luck that would probably just piss off Berath."

2. "No need for thanks. Couldn't leave another kith outnumbered like that. Wasn't right." [...] "Could have done without the extremely blatant goading, though, friend."

3. "Excellent. I was worried I looked like a weird asshole for a minute there."

4. "…I don't know if that's the best or the worst mixed metaphor I've ever heard."

5. “Knowledge seeks freedom, we say in Ixamitl, and the freer I can make it, the better.”

6. "Ha! Since becoming a Watcher with her own castle who offers to help everyone she meets solve all their problems, I do seem to be quite popular, yes," [...] "…I jest, of course. In any case, the friends I do make, I tend to keep. And cherish."

7. "Never tell me how to feel, Kana, never again. Or by the Beast, I'll show you fucking hostile."

8. "Smells like a kraken took a shit out here and died," [...]

9. "I may be forgiving, but the Doemenels aren't. He sticks around too much longer, they're gonna 'stick' him."

10. "'Trust is a double-edged sword, gift and burden both to friends and allies.' My father taught me that one."

11. "Can I please just go put some gods damned pants on," [...]

12. "Don't go around pinning all your trust on any one person or institution completely, Aloth. Not even me. You'll regret it, trust me."

13. "I don't need to be coddled, Aloth," [...] "What I need is to quit moping and get off my ass so I can actually do something that at least makes me feel like I still have a little control over my life."

14. "I wonder– will it piss off the gods, do you think, ruining two priests' days in a row like that?"

15. "You may be content to issue Hollowborn until your shriveled womb drops out of your skirts," [...] "but I will not permit you to stand between these people and the truth!"

and That's Our Axa! ™️

thus far, her alternate dimension counterpart/ex-fiance Vaargys has exactly one (1) written line of dialogue, so we will be skipping him. i plan on featuring him prominently in flashbacks during Axa's time in the White March, which will probably be the next six or seven chapters of Anthem Infinitum, so look forward to it! ♡

#pillars of eternity #watcher axa #thanks for tag ♡#i'm particularly proud of the wordplay in line no. 9 #boy axa's kind of a potty mouth huh?

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around1302 · 1 year

Text

XII. ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT

SPARE PARTS: a series (12/20)

STOCKHOLM, SWEDEN

(W) strong language, mentions of death, brief plane blowjob and slight mention of fingering

CHARLIE’S POV

Something in me wants to go back to six years ago. I want to be sitting on my bed, my pathetically pink squeaky frame that a sixteen year old me couldn’t have viewed as terrible because she had no other view, and I want to have Poppy rush through the door.

I want Poppy full stop, but I can want her till I go blue in the face. I have, many times.

I want Poppy’s maddening grin (insane grin) bubbling concern and curiosity in me. More so concern. I want to listen to her tell me she found a loophole in the Battle of the Bands audition process that let’s lone performers play with other lone performers.

And I want to tell her to go the fuck away.

I have decided, on this the fifth city stop of our tour, that everything bad (and good) that has happened to me is because of that day.

If I didn’t go to that audition, Poppy wouldn’t have ended up driving several years later to an after party of ours in the middle of the slippery winter night. If I didn’t go to that audition, I wouldn’t have met Zayn and had a consequently heartbreaking next few years that still seem to haunt me, now. If I didn’t go to that audition, I wouldn’t have met Harry.

Which, as I spin through Instagram and try my absolute hardest to be grateful for everything I have at twenty two, is a nice thought.

A very nice thought. It’s six years unriddled with confusion and yearning and grief. God, the grief. Fuck the grief. I understand they say it’s good, it’s how they stay with us, how they stay loved, but is it? When someone laughs at a joke I know Poppy would have rolled her eyes at, or when I smell overly priced musky vanilla perfume, or when I lay in bed at night and let the silence coat me like dirt on a coffin. Is it?

So, I scroll. Distracting myself. Always fucking distracting myself.

@musicnostaglia spare parts recording their most recent album, louder actions (may 2021)

I smile at the images, the memories, programming my brain to focus on all the good so I can’t pine after a life without the bad.

@greeneer i love liam but charlie will always be the better drummer #sorrynotsorry

I type out a comment along the lines of an enthusiastic agreement, one that instantly sends an influx of notifications into my inbox I try not to become overwhelmed over.

But then, it’s when I scroll a little further down in my tagged images, that I stop. It’s not of me. The picture has nothing to do with me, or the rest of the band, yet we’re all tagged regardless. No. The image is Harry, circa 2019, our tour for our first album Bittersweet. Our first tour full stop.

@spxrepxrts missing bittersweet harry today :(

My heart pounds. Stop that.

Harry doesn’t smile like that. I know he’s a different person on stage, to the fans. I’ve had to get used to that over the years, how everyone else adores Harry Styles despite Harry being the most intolerable person I know. But that smile… does he really smile like that on stage?

My breath flutters and I lock my phone, letting the clunk of metal slide next to me. Everyone’s in tonight, wiped out from today’s show and in desperate need of an actual full eight hours for the first time. So far, everyone’s been living tour life up, which has been easy on the earlier shows. This always happens, though. You have fun for a couple cities, then the exhaustion and homesickness kicks in and all you want is your bed and the uncharacteristically tepid sound of North London in the early hours.

Knuckles rap at my door. I nearly cry.

I can’t take another Harry or Zayn thing tonight. Zayn throwing that fucking sledgehammer of a declaration in, despite the clarification of our friendship only a few nights ago, has rendered me emotionally spent. And Harry. Well. I can’t take him looking at me like that while I leave his room again, as if that wasn’t a part of our agreement in the first place.

I don’t recall his clothes (which I still need to return) and late night talking being in the fine print.

The door shakes again, a little louder.

“I’m not in!” I shout, bundling the hotel sheets up in my fists and cocooning myself.

“It’s only me.”

That developing lump in my throat melts.

I rush out of my cocoon and yank the door open, tears nearly streaming at the pure relief of red hair and raspberry shower gel. I didn’t realise how much I needed my best friend until now, and all I want is…

“And Louis.”

Oh. Okay.

Louis smiles meekly at me, but I’m not mad. Surprised? Yes. Mad? Never. As much as Amelia is my sister, Louis is my brother, yet the two of them don’t exactly strike me as a duo to be hanging alone.

“What’s going on, guys?” My brow strikes sceptically. I step aside, letting them into my dark room. I flip on a light, illuminating the suite in fluorescent yellow, realise just how much of a mess everything is.

Bed sheets everywhere, tissues from preemptive tears littered atop. My phone thrown, mascara stains on the crisp pillows (that I’ll definitely be paying for. Fenty doesn’t simply wash out).

“Amelia told me.”

My mouth hangs open as I stare at the perpetrator.

“Traitor.”

“He pulled it out of me!” Amelia holds her hands up, bangles flying down her forearm.

This was not supposed to happen. No one was meant to know, Amelia was a stretch, but sweet Lord, someone in the band? This whole thing is slipping from me so quickly and I’m suddenly craving that time machine again.

“It was relatively obvious, Char,” Louis lilts, that usual sarcasm biting through his tone as he perches on the edge of my bed. Amelia joins him, worrying at her bottom lip as she gages my reaction.

I splutter, making him roll his eyes.

“I literally caught you guys necking it on the other day, on the bus.”

What? “What?”

Louis scoffs. “Did you think you were slick hiding behind the fuckin’ mini fridge? I caught you the second I stepped out, I just had the decency to pretend I didn’t.”

I rake my hands through my knotted curls, feeling the incessant need to pace. “You saw… you saw. And you didn’t say anything? Why?”

Louis shrugs like he’d no more than caught me peeing, or something. “Dunno, felt weird to call you out while you were boobs to the wind,” I cover my face, “I figured if anyone knew anything Lia would, then she spills this whole friends with benefits thing you’ve got going on.”

“We’re not friends.”

“Which is why it’s so dumb.”

“It’s not–” I cut myself off before I defend something that is true. It’s so beyond true I’ve spent every second since the agreement wondering why the Hell I said yes in the first place.

“Babe, it’s a little dumb.” Amelia suddenly juts in.

“Okay,” I breathe, exasperated. My hands land over my oversized tee, perching on my hip as I survey my two best friends, “it’s stupid. But it’s done now, why are you in my room?”

“Because we want to stop you.”

My face scrunches on impulse before I force myself to relax into seeming unbothered by the statement.

“Hear us out,” Louis stands, “you guys hate each other at the best of times, yeah?”

I shrug, not sure how accurate that is anymore.

“At the end of the day, this is only going to end badly. Think of the band, dude. If this winds up like another…”

My throat tightens. “Another Zayn situation?”

Louis’ tongue flicks out to his lower lip, but he defeatedly nods. Ever the one to tell it how it excruciatingly is. “Yeah, that. It’s not just you two you have to think about, but it could split up Spare Parts.”

“I don’t think–”

“How long did it take before you could be in a room with Zayn again?” Amelia stands, too. What the Hell is this? An intervention? Maybe it was needed, but Jesus does this feel condescending.

“Okay, but–”

“I love Haz, but he’s shit to women. You know that. Logistically I’d still like a job, but more importantly I don’t want you to get hurt – which will happen.”

“Right, but if you–”

“And I love this whole sexual liberation thing you’ve got going on, but babe, isn’t Harry the first person you’ve slept with since that girl from the bar a few years ago? Do you really think he’s the way to open this chapter back up?”

“If you just let me–”

“And Harry’s–”

“Stop it!” I scream, about ready to lose my mind. My eyes are squeezed shut and my fists are closed by my side because I just had to swallow shitty thing after shitty thing that, “I have already thought about all of that. Who do you think you’re talking to? I overthink going to the fucking shops, of course I’ve thought about this.”

Amelia’s eyes are doing that sad puppy thing she does when it looks like I’ve just told her Poppy’s died all over again. Louis looks like he’s about to slap me.

“I’m tired of being safe and sad. I genuinely went about my life thinking I’d never be able to have sex without some level of an emotional connection. That woman in the bar sent me into a panic attack, and Zayn wasn’t much easier. But somehow, I don’t think about any of that when I’m with Harry. I just think about the things you’re supposed to think about when you’re having sex, and yes, maybe I won’t go out on dates with him and I won’t have him buy me flowers and I won’t sit and have dinners with his family, but he takes away the loneliness for a temporary, good moment.”

I’m breathless by the time I finish.

“And that’s all I need right now.”

Amelia and Louis are stunned into silence, and it takes me a second to catch my own breath. Because in those moments of pure unfiltered rampage, I realised something.

All of this is bullshit. The tossing and the turning, the pining and the pandering. I’ve spent too much of my life planning every meticulous detail to a scrutinised T, and it hasn’t worked out for me so far.

I’m Charlie fucking Greene. Lead singer of one of the world’s biggest bands right now, millionaire by the age of nineteen, loved by thousands, wanted by hundreds. I sell records, I sell stadiums, I sell my Goddamn self.

I’m too fucking nice for this shit.

“I mean,” Amelia’s the first to puncture the silence, “hell yeah.”

Louis stifles a laugh. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

I feel relief. From what, I’m not entirely sure right now. But relief nonetheless.

“Just be careful, yeah?” Louis narrows his eyes kindly, “we care about you.”

“I know you do.” I nudge his shoulder, smiling at Amelia. “You also need to keep this on the low. Looking at you, Broadstrom.”

Amelia rolls her eyes playfully. “Oh, relax. Louis had already seen your tits before I said anything.”

I bury my face in my hands, groaning into the sweaty darkness as that memory quickly surfaces. Louis cackles, tackling me into a hug I barely reciprocate. I’m too busy trying not to scream obscenities into my palms.

“Charlie, man, I saw nothing,” he lifts my head up, forcing me to look at him, “your Mission Impossible escape was funny as fuck, though.”

“You’re a horny bastard, you know that?” Lia pokes. I snort.

“He brings it out of me, I guess.” I mumble, stifling a chuckle. “Okay, now go so I can get to sleep.”

Vis-a-vis, I need to call Zayn and tell him we’re going to continue to be friends. Vis-a-vis, I need to call Harry straight after and tell him all about the blowjob he’ll be receiving on the plane in the morning.

“I’m going to be really clear on something.”

“Kinda hard to find clarity right now, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. That’s twice, now.

I would have preferred to do this in the hotel, but in true Harry fashion, he was late to the airport. We had to make our own way this time, the buses already being transported last night. His taxi didn’t show up ten seconds before we were meant to be in the air.

So, plane bathroom it is. Again.

“I don’t want to cuddle after sex,” I lower myself to my knees, the heaving of Harry’s chest as I continue to stroke him dulling my voice to a murmur, “I don’t want to sleep over,” I lick the tip of his cock, making him hiss and clench his fists, “and I don’t want you to get weird about Zayn, or anyone else.”

“Fine.” He pants. “Just, fuckin’, ah,” he tries to muffle his groans in the back of his palm, but when I take him to the back of my throat it looks to take everything in him not to scream, “whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” I tease, holding his dick to lick delicious stripes up and down that vein. He nods, not giving a shit what I say apparently, only wanting my mouth back on him as he tries to stay quiet in yet another too-public place to be doing this.

“Promise?” I bunch my hair up, but his hands instantly fly to replace mine as a bobble.

“Yes, Jesus, I promise.”

My lashes flutter as I close my eyes, smiling against his tip before taking him into my mouth and sealing that promise with my tongue.

Things won’t be this easy with Zayn, I’m sure, but as I work Harry till he’s coming down my throat, I realise this is a good decision. The best one, the right one. I’m so tired of being overemotional, and if fucking Harry and ignoring Zayn is the answer so be it.

Because screw the bullshit. Being sad is boring.

I at least know it’s the right decision when Harry lifts me back to his lips and slips his fingers into my sweatpants, slamming his hand over my mouth as I cry into his palm.

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