#but thinking louis isn’t smart enough to do what’s best for him if he had the choice is really strange to me

[drabsyo]

I was wondering...I was always confused about Narcissa’s hair. It’s been a while since I read the books. Did she color it blonde to show her now belonging to House Malfoys. Or was it naturally blonde? Movies confused me a bit I guess.

Yes, this had me confused too! I've agonized and toiled over it, more than I probably should, about how I should draw her hair because people have generally different views, which is totally understandable! 💕

And I've always wanted to discuss it, so now that I've been given a reason to... Well.

If you take a look at some of my Narcissa fanart, you'll notice the different ways I'd color her hair. I was so confused. Is she a light blonde? Dark blonde? A mix of raven hair and blonde hair? If she has blonde hair then why does her family have (mostly) dark hair? And WHY does she have blue eyes?! This woman is absolutely confusing! (Which is kind of, you know, fitting because Narcissa always loves to be a mystery to literally anyone lol)

So I did my homework, asked around, and scoured every bit of information, canon or otherwise, that I could find about her. It led me to this:

In canon, this is what the Black sisters look like. You can find the page here. Narcissa is a child here, and already has blonde hair. So we can go ahead and safely assume that she was born with natural blonde hair. But in the films, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. I don't actually know why they gave her that hair color, maybe so that the audiences wouldn't question her blood relations with the Blacks--I don't know. I really don't. But now we have a book version Narcissa, one who has full blonde hair. And a movie version Narcissa, one who has raven and blonde hair. At least, that's how the different hair colors started: a movie version, and a book version.

So... here's where it gets confusing.

To my knowledge, it isn't actually explained why her hair color is the way it is in both the movies and the books. Having blonde hair does raise many questions, how is she the "only" blonde in a family of dark hair and dark eyes? To top it all off, it gets even more confusing, because fanon writes and draws her either as a full blonde or a mix of raven and blonde hair. We just have this large pile to sift through of her having either hair color. No one actually explains anything. She's just... infuriatingly there. She's either blonde or raven haired and blonde. BUT fanfiction writers, as I've observed, give their own reasons why Narcissa's hair color is the way it is in their respective stories. And it's actually pretty creative and interesting! It adds even greater depth to her character, and it fits the narrative of the story even better. Remember, the character we're dealing with is Narcissa Black. One of her main traits is "she won't do anything unless there is a clear purpose behind it." This character is deliberate, meticulous, and she makes sure to plan ahead at all times. And so, some fanfiction writers decide to play on that.

You can skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers but I've compiled a small list of instances in (Cissamione) fanfiction where Narcissa's hair is mentioned.

🔹 In Extinction by rubikanon in Chapter 10: Build and Break, Hermione asks Narcissa about it. Here, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. She explains that she only decided to dye it blonde to "fit in with the Malfoys." We can gather two things from that alone, which resonates with her character perfectly: 1.) Narcissa is loyal and 2.) Narcissa purposefully wants to show the rest of the world how loyal she is by committing to having blonde hair. The woman has some serious commitment, and it shows. But now, the way that it's slowly growing back into her natural black hair color, hints that perhaps Narcissa no longer wishes to fit in with the Malfoys. However, if we take an even closer look, we can safely assume that Narcissa isn't the kind of person to just leave her hair color "unattended" like that. Remember, she's meticulous. And this is a big deal for her, the fact that she's just kind of letting it grow back instead of either fully dyeing it back to black, or dyeing it back to blonde. It suggests that perhaps she's a little unsure this time, perhaps it is her uncertainty that is the reason why it's now a mix of both. Another grey area? Or maybe it's actually something more deliberate? Maybe now, she likes that it's a mix of both. That other half now being solely for Draco, and not to fit in (completely) with the Malfoys any longer. Who knows why Narcissa does things the way she does? We can speculate to the ends of the earth, or be as smart as Hermione Granger (or with the case of Extinction, see Hermione's thoughts), but something tells me we'd still be a good step behind.

"Which one is your natural hair color?" I wondered aloud.

(Narcissa) She glanced up at the unexpected question. I was relieved she hadn't sensed my attention yet. It's not like I meant anything by it, I told myself. She was so beautiful, one couldn't help but notice. And feel physically drawn to her. And want to see her two-toned hair fanned across her back, slipping over the bare skin, silky beneath my fingers...

"Why do you ask?" Her query brought me back to reality, and I hurriedly corrected my imagination to include a pretty dress covering the rest of her.

"I don't know." I chewed the inside of my cheek, suppressing my other thoughts. "I'm just curious."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "You've seen enough of my relatives to guess which color is genetic. The blond is something I added to fit in with the Malfoys, after Draco was born." She was quiet for a moment. "He looks so much like his father. I suppose I wanted to share some resemblance."

🔹 In Killing Me Softly by Looktotheedges in Chapter 4: Nagging, Hermione suggests that perhaps Narcissa is part Veela because of her blonde hair and very attractive features, like Fleur. Which is this whole other theory/plot that's very interesting, but won't be discussed in this post. Narcissa tells Hermione that Sirius has always been blonde, and that it isn't out of the question for her to be blonde either. Sirius Black. A blonde. I know! Maybe it's there because it's funny that Sirius is actually blonde like Narcissa. Prissy, haughty, lady-like Narcissa. Arguably the 'girliest' cousin that he has. No, no, no. He doesn't want to be anything like Narcissa. Anyway, if that's the reason, I think that's hilarious and cute.

Narcissa turns away. 'I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…'

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. 'Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week.'

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. 'A blonde little boy. It has been so long since… I can almost imagine…'

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. 'Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?'

'Like a changeling?'

'It would explain your blonde hair.'

'Sirius was also blonde, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks.'

What?!

(...) 'I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven… then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly.'

🔹 In Fixed in Time by TheWorldsaBeastofBurden in Chapter 9: Sisters and Saviors, it's also tackled a little humorously. Andromeda let's a little comment slip while they're in the middle of trying to heal Hermione. Something funny, something that suggests Andromeda and Bella, when they were children, have always wondered why Narcissa is blonde unlike them.

The first words spoken occurred after they’d risen and attempted their casting. Andromeda’s preparedness to take on their task had been clear in her mind so Narcissa rose with her sister, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her near as the woman raised her wand to draw up the rest of the injury she’d dropped, half a slash across Hermione’s hip bone…

That remained half, as Andromeda growled out, “...it isn’t working.” she looked to Narcissa, “Why aren’t you powering me?”

What nonsense? “I am!” she insisted. She was! Or “I- I am trying to!” Her magic was active and alive, pulsing to rise from her skin and transfer into Andromeda’s but it- it wasn’t working! “Could...could it be that you were disowned?”

“Disowning doesn’t take away the fact that we share blood, our magic is directly related. Ugh, Bella always said you were adopted!”

“Oh ha- oh.”

“...oh?” Andromeda returned.

“...it’s not an issue of power. It is what I intend to aid in casting,” Narcissa slowly worked out. Oh, it was most blessed Mister Goyle could be brought to assist the present Hermione. If her present self had been brought to aid Andromeda? “...I cannot harm Hermione.”

Andromeda sighed with some frustration. “I understand you are so tenderly in love-”

“It isn’t- I’m avowed! I- when we arrived from the future we had to escape Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t bring Hermione through the wards without...I couldn’t add her directly, that would be visible. I had to...attach her permission to mine.”

🔹 In Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss (Menzosarres), which probably gives one of the most interesting backstories for Narcissa's hair, for why it's blonde. I can't put a clip of the scene here without hogging up a huge chunk of space on your dash, so I'll try to explain it as best I can instead.

Understand that these come with serious 🛑spoilers🛑 so please do read it at your own risk.

In Glass Silence, Narcissa's hair and eye color was black at birth. But after an accident with raw magic, something Bellatrix wasn't able to control when they were children, Narcissa almost dies. Bellatrix, using even more raw magic, tries desperately to pull Narcissa's "life force" back, but at the cost of losing the eumelanin that made Narcissa's eyes and hair black. Narcissa survived, but now has very little eumelanin left, which is why she's so pale, blonde, and has blue eyes. Every time Narcissa looks at a mirror, her reflection is a reminder of the day she almost died. Bella, on the other hand, is reminded of that day every single time she looks at Narcissa.

So! These are only a few fanfictions I could think of at the top of my head that tackles the issue of Narcissa's hair. In the books, to my knowledge, she is described as having blonde hair and very pale skin.

But let's take another deep dive, if you're up for it.

These are mostly theories, which are largely unconfirmed, but I think they're interesting to think about.

There's this description in the wiki:

"Narcissa Malfoy is described as tall, slim, "nice looking", and very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. Her hair colouring thus differs from most of the House of Black, who generally have dark hair, though Narcissa does possess the arrogant good looks characteristic of her family."

There's also this pinterest photo of the Black sisters being compared to each other side by side, descriptively and physically. I'm so sorry, I don't know who drew it, but here's a link to the post on pinterest.

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

Which is interesting because this hints that she's... different. It's a bit literal in this sense--she comes from a pureblood family, arguably the most influential and notorious one, the Blacks, who mostly have dark hair and eyes, and yet her physical appearance directly contrast that. There's also the matter of her namesake. She's the only Black to be named after a flower instead of a galaxy or a star. We aren't really given any explanation why she's the only one who's different. Even Sirius, who fought and died for the side of the Light, is named after the brightest star in the sky. Even Andromeda. It's been said that this is actually meant to be a parallel of some sort to Lily Evans. Narcissa and Lily are both named after flowers, even Petunia (Lily's sister). And I know there's this thing where it's a tie up to how Harry was ultimately saved by a mother's love: Harry lived at the beginning because of his mother's love, and Harry lives once again at the end of the books because Narcissa, a mother who wanted to save her own son, saved him.

If you read that scene in the books where Harry is saved by Narcissa, the whole scene is actually... pretty soft? There's that sort of disarming softness about Narcissa in that moment, where Harry expected to be callously dragged and prodded for a heartbeat. Instead, he gets a surprisingly gentle touch, a curtain of long blonde hair shielding him from the darkness, and the kind of tenderness he wouldn't expect from his enemies, "Is Draco alive?"

It's almost like Narcissa's appearance is something of a "tell". With Andromeda, she's described to have kind eyes, open, unguarded. She inherited her family's dark eyes and dark hair, and she even looks like Bellatrix's twin. I suppose we could say, Andromeda wants to fight that in any way she can by being openly kind. Narcissa is quite literally the opposite--guarded eyes, stoic expressions, cool and calculated emotions. We're veering into this fine line between fanon and canon in terms of their characterization (but only due to lack of canon materials) but personally, I think Narcissa having blonde hair and blue eyes is somewhat more fitting for her character. Again, this line:

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

It's like that one glaringly obvious hint that everyone overlooks simply because... because it's the most obvious one. "Me! I'm different! I'm the last person you'd expect, but it really is me!"

Anyway. I've rambled on long enough. Hope this clears up some of that confusion, anon. Hoping it didn't ADD even more confusion... 😂 At the end of the day, this is just me speculating, gushing, and being One Big Fool™. So.

But either way, blonde hair, dark hair, mix of both, I adore her. Pretty much.

#narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #cissamione #anon #HAIR TALK #drabstuff #stupid ramblings

[twopoppies]

hi!! i looked in your fic rec MP and i didn't see it, so i thought I'd ask. i read In Vogue recently and LOVED it and then I've been binging project runway episodes (bc why not) and now I'm craving good fashion fics. maybe even a project runway one. have you read any good ones? and could you maybe rec some?

Hi sweetheart. Ohhh, I love that fic. And yes, I’ve got a few that have to do with fashion.

In Vogue by otpwhatever / @thecelineharry (M, 121K) This one is just….so much. The intensity of the characters, the crazy hot smut (oh god, the window scene), the FASHION, the angst (I had to take a walk around the block after reading it), the epic love story between two men who could rule the world if they could just figure their shit out. The fic has been deleted, but the link is to a download.

These Constant Stars by stylinsoncity (M, 31K) This author has written so many great fics and this one is really lovely. I also always like when one of the boys is not what he seems to be on first glance. There’s also a second part, told from Harry’s POV.

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews (M, 20K) the characterizations and set up for this fic are sharp and funny, making this a really fun read. Plus there’s a lot of talk of Louis worshipping Harry’s thighs. LOL!

Fading by tothemoonmydear (M, 202K) Let me start by asking you to please read the tags on this one. It’s a very well-written fic, but it deals very graphically with Louis’ character’s eating disorder. At the time it was written some people felt it did not portray ED recovery accurately, so if the subject is at all triggering for you, please don’t read this one. Of that’s not an issue for you, make sure you have tissues ready because I ugly cried through almost all of this. I read it years ago and loved it at the time, but it’s not one I could handle reading twice.

sweet, where you lay by @infinitelymint (E, 27K) I read this ages ago and my notes only say that it was “sweet and sexy”, which is not terribly helpful. But this author is a good one, in general, so I feel safe including it here.

The rest of these were suggested by @cuethetommo who generally likes the same sort of fics I do. I either haven’t read these, or don’t remember enough about them to have an opinion! 😆 But I trust her.

Put It All On Me by LoadedGunn (M, 15K)

"Yeah, yeah, give it to me, that's it, spread your legs a bit, there you go."

The camera follows Louis as he does. Maybe if the modelling thing doesn't work out, he could try the porn industry. Then again, he's a bit too stocky to be twinky and a bit too twinky to be anything else. He likes that about himself, though. Well, directors and photographers like that about him. He could pull off pretty and edgy, could do GQ in the morning and a perfume commercial in the afternoon. Right now he thinks he could pull off anything, because it's Harry fucking Styles directing him.

Or, a Top Model AU where Louis is accidentally there to make friends, not become Britain's Next Top Model. (Also Zayn is the supermodel host.)

you pull me in by yoursongonmyheart (NR, 7K)

“Did you really wear silk jammies to meet him?” Fizzy is almost in tears.

He’s going to kill them.

He’s really going to kill them.

Ernie throws his backpack on the floor before telling Fizzy, quite loudly, “Mr. Styles looked at Achoo like this” and making an exaggerated jaw dropped face.

“That is not what happened!” Louis protests.

“And Achoo looked at Mr. Styles like that, too!” Doris pulls the same face before laughing.

------

//or the one where Louis is a model, Harry teaches Doris and Ernie at primary and now might be a good time to fall in love.

This Road Leads Where Your Heart Is by LittleLostPieces (E, 15K)

Alright, so Louis has a bit of a type is the thing. And as fit as his supermodel flatmate (Harry) may be, he isn't what Louis is looking for in a potential partner. That’s all. He’s not Louis’ type, with his miles of lanky limbs and his bright, boyish eyes. His impossibly tight, little body and infectious laughter are not what Louis wants. They're not. Really.

swimming in a champagne sea by delsicle (E, 17K)

Louis is a supermodel. Harry is a celebrity photographer known for capturing the brightest up and comers in their most candid moments. They meet at London’s most exclusive New Year’s Eve party.

An alpha/alpha fic filled with confusion, banter, Ubers, and glitter

Life at Shutter Speed by zarah5 (E, 20K)

AU. Having landed a job modelling for an outdoor clothing catalogue, Harry certainly wouldn’t mind doing some extracurricular work for photographer Louis Tomlinson. Say, a private photo session? Yes, please? Good thing that Harry has ten days and three beautiful locations -- Morocco, Indonesia and the Swiss Alps -- to make Louis see just how good they could be.

Special Topping by LoadedGunn (E, 20K)

'Who would even want so many pizzas so late at night?' Harry wonders before the door opens.

Oh. Apparently short guys with shaggy brown hair and a scruff and bright blue eyes and heart-stopping smiles. That's who.

Harry's not even ashamed of how he nearly drops all the pizzas. This guy is gorgeous and Harry hasn't noticed anyone like that in ages, let alone provided services to them. If he opened his mouth right now the only thing that would come out is, "By special topping did you mean my dick?"

Or, the AU where Harry delivers pizza and Louis really just wants Tim Gunn to spank him.

everywhere (i want to be with you) by itiswhatisbutterfly (E, 42K)

Harry and Louis meet because they have terrible friends, they fall in love because something feels right in a world of uncertainty and shifting grounds. Louis is an actor and Harry is a model at the top of his game, the best things in life are the most unexpected ones and the things that hit you when you are least expecting it.

Featuring winter in London, nights in Paris, early mornings in New York, burning heat in Monte Carlo and an enduring love spent transcending four corners of the globe.

Young Gods by sincewewereeighteen (E, 77K)

“Why don’t you stay?” Harry looked down at him and snorted. “What?”

“You’re not my type, Louis”, the boy rolled his eyes sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.

“Says the man you just had sex with”, Louis pointed feeling smart, but Harry was one step ahead of him, with the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, if you were my type, I wouldn’t have”, Harry winked, cheeky as hell. “I would’ve gotten to know you first.”

“Bullshit”, he accused the boy not letting it show how intrigued he was. “How can you know I’m not your type if you don’t know me?”

“How about I list five things about you to prove I’m right and if any of them are false I’ll lie down again.”

“Ok. Go.”

[Or: the one in which Louis is a model and Harry's supposed to be a normal guy... Until he isn't.]

#fashion fics #my fic rec #Larry fic rec

[thalergetic]

prompt: sugar daddy adora. as a birthday treat 😌

as a birthday treat? of course 😌

As far as Catra knew, most grad students didn’t have closets full of Gucci, Dior, and Louis Vuitton.

They didn’t have a chauffeur that would take them wherever they needed, whenever they needed.

And they certainly weren’t sharing a bed with one of the most powerful businesswomen in the country.

Adora Grayskull, who made the 30 Under 30 list at age 21, had been promoted to COO of Horde Industries about three months before she met Catra, and she was only on her way up.

Catra wasn’t sure exactly what her job entailed — Adora had tried explaining it a few times in bed, but nothing had ever stuck — and wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

After all, that wasn’t something their... agreement had covered.

Catra met Adora when she was in the first year of a grueling PhD program at one of the best schools on the West Coast.

She’d been waiting tables in a fairly high-class restaurant, trying to make enough money to cover her first tuition payment, when Adora walked in.

She had been with a client, Catra remembered, but it didn’t stop her from staring the whole time.

When her client left — in some fit of rage, if the way he stormed out was anything to go by — Adora had sighed and put her head in her hands.

And, well, Catra wasn’t immune to someone that attractive in a well-tailored suit.

She brought over a glass of the scotch Adora had ordered earlier and placed it gently beside her.

“On the house,” Catra said, watching Adora’s eyes flick over to it. “You’re Adora Grayskull, right?”

“Guilty as charged.” Adora looked up at her for a moment. “Care to join me?”

Catra knew she probably shouldn’t, but it had been a slow night, and her manager was too busy micromanaging the hostesses to notice her.

After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded, and pulled up a chair across from her. “What was that guy’s deal?”

Adora sighed a little, looking towards the door before her eyes met Catra’s. “I had to fire him.” When Catra’s eyes widened a little, Adora continued, explaining, “He’s— he was in charge of our Boston branch.”

“Not anymore, though, I guess,” Catra said. “Rough way to end a night.”

“Considering he spent the last two quarters doing coke and fucking his secretary, I think he probably should’ve seen it coming.” Adora took a sip of her drink to hide a smile as Catra let out a surprised laugh.

Adora swallowed, then nodded toward Catra. “My turn to ask a question. What brought you here?”

“Here, like, to LA? Or to the restaurant?”

“Both,” Adora shrugged. “Either.”

Catra gnawed at the inside of her lip for a second. “I’m a grad student at UCLA,” She said. “I just started a PhD program.”

Adora’s eyebrows raised a little as she nodded, impressed. “In what?”

“Mechanical engineering and applied physics,” Catra answered, watching Adora’s eyes widen even further. “Y’know. Basic stuff.”

It was Adora’s turn to let out a surprised laugh. “No shit,” She said, propping her head up on a hand. “Tell me more.”

Somehow, Catra did. She talked — slow and hesitant at first, then with increasing enthusiasm that led her to drawing a diagram on the back of a receipt — about her work, her interests, and her concentration.

The whole time, Adora watched her face with an awed expression. At the end, her only question was, “So why the hell are you waiting tables?”

“I mean, the tuition isn’t exactly cheap,” Catra said. “I got a partial scholarship, but I’m already up to my neck in loans. This doesn’t cover all of it, but...” She shrugged. “It helps. Plus, the food’s not bad.”

Adora nodded a little. Her face clouded with an expression Catra couldn’t place. “Means you have less time to do your actual work, though.”

Catra nodded. “It does. But, I mean, it’s whatever,” She said, shrugging again. “That’s life. What can you do, y’know?”

“Well, I—” Adora cut herself off with a shake of her head. “No, that’s not— never mind.”

Catra frowned. “What?”

As if to give her some courage, Adora finished her drink. She began to run her finger around the edge of the glass as she said, in a careful, halting voice, “If you needed some help, I would...” She cleared her throat. “I would be happy to, um...”

She was blushing, Catra realized. Why would she be— oh.

Oh.

“Um,” Catra started, eyes widening. “You— but, I-I mean, I just met you.”

“True,” Adora agreed. “So obviously you’re under no obligation to accept, but—” She let out a small sigh. “You know you’re the first person I’ve been able to have a normal conversation with in years?”

Catra blinked. She wasn’t sure what to say, and all her brain could come up with was, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Adora nodded. “And you’re so, so smart, Catra. You should be able to spend as much time as humanly possible doing what you love, not—not giving glasses of Johnny Walker to random CEOs on a Tuesday night.”

Catra was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open. “So, to be clear, you would be, like... my sugar daddy?”

Adora cringed a little at the words, but nodded anyway. “If that’s what you want to call it, then... sure. But we don’t have to discuss it now,” She said, reaching into her suit jacket.

She pulled out a sleek, neat black wallet and pulled one, two, then four hundred-dollar bills from inside it.

“When are you free to talk about it?” Adora asked, sliding the money across the table. “I’ll send a car for you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can take the bus.”

“If that’s what you want, that’s fine,” Adora said, putting her hands up in surrender. “But if it makes things easier for you, I’m happy to do it.”

In the end, the temptation of a plush, fancy car was too much for Catra to overcome, and she relented soon after.

Later that week, when she and Adora went over the terms of what they’d refer to as the agreement, Catra found herself blushing when she asked the question that had been lingering on her mind for days.

“So... in exchange for the money,” Catra said hesitantly, watching Adora’s expression shift ever so slightly, “What... would I be doing?”

“Right. Um.” Adora started, swallowing thickly. “I know that usually in these types of relationships, there’s—” She cut herself off, letting out a small laugh. “I don’t know why I’m blushing,” She said, shaking her head. “Um. But there’s a sexual component.”

Not trusting herself to speak without it coming out squeaky, Catra just nodded. Her face was on fire.

“If that’s not something you’re interested in, that’s completely fine,” Adora said, raising her eyebrows a little. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Catra nodded again, clearing her throat. “And, um. If... I was interested?”

Adora’s eyes widened a little, and Catra swore she saw them darken as her jaw pulsed. “If you’re interested,” Adora said, her voice dropping a little deeper, “I’m more than okay with that.”

Feeling her heart rate jump a little at the sudden change in demeanor, Catra blinked rapidly. “Um. O-okay,” She said, nodding again. “Yeah. Cool. We need to—to talk about it more, though, right?”

“I need to know any limits you have,” Adora said, nodding. “Anything you’re absolutely not willing to do.”

“Okay,” Catra nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Adora offered a hand out for Catra to shake.

After a second’s hesitation, Catra took it.

“Then it’s a deal,” Adora said, giving her a smile. “You’ll have access to a car service, my credit card, and the penthouse,” She said. “In return, I would just ask that you keep this between us.”

“Uh. Of course,” Catra said, remembering the very detailed text she’d sent to Glimmer after their first meeting. “Um. I-I can do that.”

“I-I mean, I don’t know what you’ve told people,” Adora said, frowning a little. “Just, you know. Try and keep my name out of it. Not that I’m ashamed of you, or of this, but with the company—”

“Easy, baby,” Catra said, putting a hand on her arm. She began to rub soothingly at it, feeling hard muscle under Adora’s dress shirt. “I get it.”

Adora blushed again. “You—you called me baby,” She said dumbly.

“You’re paying for my tuition,” Catra said, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

The words seemed to remind her of something, and Catra swallowed hard. “Speaking of tuition,” She said. “When do you... want me to start?”

“Start wh— oh.” Adora’s eyes widened. She looked behind her, where the door to her bedroom was open, before turning back to Catra. “Are you busy tonight?”

Catra blinked, trying hard to tamp down her blush. “Not at all.”

“Well, then,” Adora said, taking a step toward her. Slowly, so Catra could see and react to it, she moved her hand up so her thumb was resting on Catra’s bottom lip. “There’s your answer.”

Catra opened her mouth a little, feeling Adora slide her thumb inside.

In a second, Catra decided that if she was going to do this, she would do it right.

Putting a hand on Adora’s to steady it, Catra began to suck gently on the finger in her mouth, watching Adora’s eyes fly open as her lips parted.

A few moments later, Catra released her finger with a pop, leaving Adora much less collected than she had been minutes prior.

With a wink, Catra moved past her slowly, dragging her fingers lightly along Adora’s shoulder as she walked behind her into her bedroom.

Catra stopped at the doorway and looked back. “If we’re doing this, there’s something you should know,” She said, watching Adora frown in a mix of concern, confusion, and arousal.

“What?”

Dragging her eyes up and down Adora’s body, Catra gave her a grin. “I bite.”

#ask #adorasheart #alex #my writing #catradora #spop #catradora fic #prompt fill #this idea? sexy as fuck #happy birthday babe 😌

[1ddotdhq]

⭐️ Tues Sept 15 ‘20 🦊

Lots and lots to get through! Let’s start with an update from my favorite thing from yesterday: the source of the Louis/Harry/Niall LAX rumor was found! Was it the anonymous mystery account we were led to believe? No - of course not! It was actually a fanfic writer, who was throwing around ideas, and someone took them as fact (as people on twitter do), and ran with it. From there it became one messy game of twitter-phone and we were left with a big pile of nothing. Well, that’s what I get for going fact-checking on twitter, I guess.

Let’s talk about things that ARE happening, for sure: Harry cancelled the rest of his shows for 2020 (I thought he had already, but okay) while assuring people that “I really hope to play the shows as planned for 2021 but will continue monitoring the situation over the coming weeks and months”. Idk what to tell you there, H, but France already cancelled at least one show for you, so maybe it’s time to start considering other options?

A podcast with Olivia Wilde dropped today, where she discusses “Don’t Worry Darling”. About the project she said, “It’s a wild and weird and totally bizarre film that we’re making, and we’re making it in the time of COVID which is wild in itself, and it’s such an endeavor. It’s something I’m so excited about in every single way, every single person who is a part of it–the people you mention, people who I can’t mention. What can I say.” This was recorded BEFORE it was confirmed that H was on board for the movie, so he wasn’t at all mentioned, but she describes the project as “fucking batshit - it’s nuts”. Maybe I’m gonna have to get over my aversion to thrillers and make it to the theatres for this one!

And, in another odd follow up from yesterday, Harry is rumored to be in a DIFFERENT Marvel project: he might be playing the MCU’s Starfox in an upcoming movie, although no title has been released, and there has been no official confirmation. The rumor started when a Netflix writer (Kris Tapley) said on September 11th that “Don’t Worry Darling” would be H’s SECOND project since Dunkirk “if we’re counting the Marvel movie no one knows he’s in”. Once again - this is not official, but the discourse around this potential project has, of course, taken off, and it is Mixed. Many fans (myself included!) would love to see him in a Marvel movie. A few others think that “he does not look like a superhero”. To those people, I’d like to pose a question: what does a superhero look like? Answer: like someone who plays a superhero. That’s it. That’s the only criteria.

If that wasn’t enough, Harry himself popped up in a fan pic in London. He HAS indeed shaved his mustache - and his beard lol - but his HAIR! Well, THAT was a TRENDING TOPIC worldwide today on twitter. It’s, um, curly and parted to the right, in case you’re wondering, in a wonderful imitation of Liam’s haircut. Do you think they share a hair stylist????

You know who HASN’T appeared anywhere, despite the Daily Fail’s publishing an article that says he’s been in LA throughout quarantine? Louis! He has been aggressively MIA for most of quarantine, and the few times he HAS been spotted, it’s been in and around London, and once in Doncaster for Lottie’s birthday. You know where he HASN’T been? Los Angeles! Sorry, but somebody better tell the media to get their stories straight square - he’s either in London with Eleanor or in LA with Freddie, but not both at the same time. I don’t know where he is, but rest assured that it isn’t with the Jungwirths/Clarks, who have been documenting every outing they have taken (kids included!) during this global pandemic. And, in fact, smart money says that neither option is what is happening!

Meanwhile, Niall got himself into some hot water on twitter, for, uh, making a joke? Yahoo.com put out an article that was called “Hear Me Out: Niall Horan Was The Best Member of One Direction”, to which Niall replied, “I’m listening 😂”. People....did not like that, and proclaimed that he was being “disrespectful” (oooh, buzzword!) to his other band mates by interacting at all. Niall then confirmed that he had not actually READ the article, he just thought the title was funny, and said, in what can only be read as an exasperated tone, “What’s everyone fighting with me over now? 😂”.

In other news, STREAM PILLOWTALK was also trending worldwide today, as fans try to get the music video to one BILLION view, so, you know, do it!

#harry styles #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #eleanor posted a picture on instagram in maida vale #(where her mom lives) #captioned ‘in my natural habitat’ #so like...not with louis #or near his house #we knew this but every time we get further confirmation it just makes me smile #anyways #song of the day! #silence by khalid ft marshmello

[yourfavewriteress]

right under our noses (part 1) | colton parayko

intro |

Teaser: “Are you guys seriously not going to tell either of us who the other person is?”

“Trust me on this,” Jayne said. “Trust us.”

You looked over at Alex who was seated next to her. “For some reason I trust your word right now more than hers. Do you approve of this person?”

“You know I wouldn’t support setting you up with anyone I didn’t think could put up with you,” He replied.

“Alexander,” You warned him. Jayne groaned, slightly nudging his leg under the table.

“She’s being serious,” She added.

“I trust the guy, yes,” He said finally with a roll of his eyes. “We both wouldn’t set you up to get hurt, you know that already.”

“What if this doesn’t work?” You trusted Alex, and especially Jayne. If they were vouching for this guy, you really had no reason to question it. But, your dating life had not been the best. You were consistently getting caught up with the wrong guys, ones that would play with your feelings just to boost their own egos. You were a strong woman, and always kept your composure. But, you were tired of always being in the background. And maybe this could work. It doesn’t hurt to try, at least, not yet.

“Then we figure something else out,” Jayne shrugged.

You sighed, looking down at your drink.

“What are you worried about?” Jayne asked. You looked at her and shrugged. Jayne didn’t understand why you didn’t see yourself the way she did. To her, you were beautiful, smart, successful (albeit in a terrible job), strong, witty and loving. You were a catch, and she hated that the men in your past made you believe anything different.

Alex loved you like a sister. Ever since Jayne introduced you at one of his team parties, he was extremely impressed at your competitiveness in the ongoing drinking competition and became one of your biggest cheerleaders, even against his own teammates. He also hated hearing about the guys you dated, because although you weren’t actually siblings, he would have loved to knock out some of the guys you had let into your life. And if he could get the chance to size someone up before they got the chance to hurt you, he definitely wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity.

Alex cleared his throat, reading you like a book. “You’re not desperate.”

“Alex!” Jayne said, slapping his shoulder.

“Tell me that’s not what you’re thinking,” He raised his eyebrows at you. Seeing you as his sister, he sometimes knew you better than Jayne did.  “I know you, Y/N. Don’t lie.”

“You have to admit, it’s a little desperate,” You mumbled.

“We all know that Jayne isn’t really giving you an option,” He laughed.

“You know what, why don’t you go upstairs or something?” Jayne suggested. Alex laughed, kissing her before turning back to you.

“Ever since we met, I’ve never lied to you,” He started. “I seriously think you have nothing to worry about. We’ve all been through a lot of shit together, and whether this works or not, we’re always family.”

“And, you’re never ‘lonely,’ no matter who you are, or are not, dating,” Jayne added.

“But, it might be fun to explore some other options that maybe you missed in the past,” He gently nudged your shoulder. “And, with our help, hopefully you won’t have to worry about the guy being an idiot.”

“Fine,” You breathed, sighing. “But, when will I find out who it is for sure?”

“I guess not until you have the balls to bring it up to them,” Jayne smirked.

“Are you serious?”

“No,” Alex said, shaking his head at Jayne. He knew that you might change your mind, “We just want you to get to know each other before we say anything about who’s who. Obviously, if you’re closing in on the wrong person, we’ll warn you.”

“I’m still not understanding how this is going to work,” You crossed your arms over your chest. “How are you guys so certain that we’ll both know who you’re talking about? I’m assuming you’re telling him the same thing.”

“That’s the point,” Jayne said. “It was kind of an epiphany for us, so we hope it’ll be for you guys, too.”

“I told her how much it sounded like a movie,” Alex said. “But, the similarities between you are obvious to us knowing both of you, but clearly not to you guys.”

“Can we just try it for two months and see how we feel?” Jayne added when she noticed your hesitance.

“In two months, you tell me who it is,” You ordered, pointing at both of them clearly.

“Sure,” Alex shrugged, but he smiled as he continued, “That is, if you don’t already figure it out yourself.”

****

“I don’t know, guys,” Colton mumbled to Alex and his wife Jayne. They had just finished their game against the New Jersey Devils and were on their way to their respective cars when the couple decided to update Colton on their plan.

“She already agreed,” Jayne said. “Just waiting on you.”

“Are you guys seriously not going to tell either of us who the other person is?” He asked, keeping his voice down so no one could hear them as they walked through the crowded hallway.

“Nope,” Jayne responded. “It’ll be fun and exciting, trust me.”

“What happens if I meet someone else before we figure it out?” He asked.

“Well, we’re going to hope that you don’t,” Alex responded, giving him a look. “But, we’d probably just call it off.”

“You guys already know each other, all we’re asking is that you just get to know the people around you. And, we’ll do our best to make sure that’s her without you knowing.”

“I find it really hard to believe that this is going to work,” He said once they reached the couple’s car. “But, if you guys are both vouching for this plan and her, I guess it doesn’t hurt to try. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone.”

“Yes!” Jayne exclaimed, hugging Colton. He laughed, hugging her back. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

“You won’t,” Alex said. “If it works.”

“Okay, I’m going to get the car started,” Jayne said, pulling away from Colton to give the guys some time. “Good luck, Parry.”

“Don’t disappoint me.” She shook her head, walking towards the door and leaving the two guys alone.

“What do you know about the girl?” Colton asked. “You have to give me something to go on, man.”

“Let’s just say that you guys have a little history,” He shrugged, smirking at his teammate. “Not enough that would stop something from happening now, but enough that you might remember.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Colton called when he realized Alex was done giving hints.

“I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.”

****

After agreeing to take part in the plan and allow your best friend and her husband to set you up with someone, you tried your best to continue your normal routine. If they were so certain that this guy was perfect for you and you would be able to see it, you planned on talking to everyone as normal and then paying attention to what happens. To be fair, that was all that you could do.

“Y/N?” You stopped in your tracks, turning on your heels.

“Aaron?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing in St. Louis?”

“I’m visiting,” He laughed. “How are you?”

He walked towards you, immediately pulling you into his chest. “I’m great, how are you? Weren’t you just in Minnesota or something?”

“Yeah, for some business meetings,” He pulled away. 

“Wow, I guess you’re a big shot now,” You joked.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m such a big shot that I still drive the same old car. I was actually hoping I would bump into you somewhere. Do you maybe want to grab a drink sometime? Catch up?”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” You nodded, slowly. “Just text me and we can set something up.”

“Same number?”

“Yeah, same one,” You replied.

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you soon,” He smiled, waving.

You smiled back, returning to your cart. Throwing your bag over into the top part, you pulled out your phone, clicking Jayne’s number almost immediately. 

“Hello?”

“Please tell me the person you’re thinking of is not Aaron Nichols who I met at that freaking parade when the guys won. If it is, abort the mission, now. Over my dead body.”

Jayne laughed, “What? No, it’s not Aaron Nichols. Who the hell is that?”

“Thank god,” You breathed. “Because he just asked me out in the grocery store.”

“Well, our guy isn’t going to be asking you out anytime soon. We promised you a slow burner,” She said.

“Oh please,” You rolled your eyes. “So, have I come across him yet and not realized it?”

“I don’t know, have you?” She threw back.

“How is that helpful at all?”

“We also told you that it’ll be much better if you guys figure this out on your own. No hints, no telling you if or where you’ve seen them.”

“You guys suck,” You responded. “I bet you Alex has given this guy lots of hints.”

“To be fair, I did tell you that it wasn’t Aaron, which I won’t do anymore. You can’t ask us every time you have an encounter with a guy.”

“Well, why not?” You whined. “Am I really just supposed to talk to everyone with the possibility of dating?”

“Exactly.”

“You guys suck,” You repeated. “I have to go, I’m checking out.”

“I’ll call you later.”

****

Colton wasn’t doing much better, either. Agreeing to this plan meant that he had to pay attention to all of his encounters with the women that he knew. And, he knew a lot. Although a gentleman, Colton had had his fair share of partners. But, the plan limited the amount of options to women that Alex and Jayne knew as well, especially Jayne, since Colton picked up on how close Jayne felt to this woman. She was obviously close with Alex, too, who seemed to trust this girl enough.

“Hair color?” Colton breathed, running on the treadmill.

Alex laughed, shaking his head beside him. “Stop.”

“Where do I know her from?” He asked.

“I’m not telling you anything about her,” Alex said.

“Fuck, man,” Colton sighed. “I feel like I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“Why?”

“Because, it’s like you guys playing matchmaker for me and this person that I supposedly have a history with. If I have a history with them, maybe there’s a reason why it didn’t work out,” He said.

“People mature,” Alex pointed. 

“Me or her?”

“Both.”

“Well, what’s our history? Did we date?”

“No, you definitely didn’t date.” Alex almost laughed, thinking back to his warning that he was 100% sure Colton respected.

“This feels a little desperate,” Colton admitted. “Like I can’t find someone myself.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Alex paused his run briefly to lean on the machine, facing Colton. Colton did the same, catching his breath as Alex continued. “She said the exact same thing when we told her. Look, this isn’t some game show trying to pair you up with some stranger that you don’t know. This is, and as much as it literally pains me to say, one of your closest friends helping you find someone that I can genuinely see you having something with. I know what you like, I know what you need, and I guess I care about you being with someone that is going to be good for you.”

“Do you actually know her?”

“Yes, man,” Alex huffed. “She’s a really good friend of ours. She has a job, a life, her own place that she pays for with her own money. Independent, funny, but depending on your humor. Jayne and I both agree that you have the same annoying humor so there’s that. You said something earlier about not wanting someone soft? Trust me, she’s not. But, she has a soft side. You’re not soft, per se, but you have a soft side, too. She likes that. And, I can assure you, even though this is subjective, you’ll definitely be attracted to her. Now, that is the last piece of information you are ever getting out of me about her until time is up. Seriously.”

He let out a breath as he starting the treadmill back up. “Are you done now? Can I finish my workout?”

“That’s all I really needed to know,” Colton said, even though he really wanted to know more. “You just convinced me, not gonna lie.”

“Sounds like your dream girl, huh?”

Colton let out a laugh, “A little, yeah.”

“We thought so, too.”

#colton parayko #nhl #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fluff #nhl writing #nhl blurb #nhl blurbs #st louis blues #st louis blues imagines #st louis blues imagine #colton parayko imagines #colton parayko fanfiction #colton parayko imagine #colton parayko fic #colton parayko fanfic #colton parayko fluff #colton parayko blurb #colton parayko blurbs #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #hockey fluff #hockey blurb #hockey blurbs #colton parayko writing

[aquietwritingcorner]

Writers Month Day 23: Truth/Arranged Marriage Word Count: 9084 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: G/K Characters: Riza Hawkeye, Alex Louis Armstrong, Roy Mustang, Olivier Mira Armstrong, General Grumman, Philip Gargantos Armstrong, Mama Armstrong, Scar, Edward Elric, Rebecca Catalina, Jean Havoc, Heymans Breda, Vato Falman, Kain Fuery, Sheska Warning: Summary: The Grummans were once a powerful family in Amestris. With the knowledge of who his granddaughter is becoming known, he sees a path back to social and political power. Not everyone is on board with this plan though—especially when they weren’t informed they were part of it. Notes: Based off a headcanon slinging session with @canisfuria and it blew itself up into this! One day I’ll go back and do this properly. AO3 || ff.net

 ____________________________________________________

 Truth/Arranged Marriage

Riza glanced over to where Fuhrer Grumman and Alex Armstrong’s parents were talking. This was the third time this month she’d been drug here by Grumman, and then shunted to the side and expected to spend the entire time talking to Alex. She eyed them. They seemed to be deep in conversation about something, and she had no idea what it might be, but she was suspicious anyway. She felt like a child who had been told to go play while the adults made plans, and it ate at her. People making plans for her had never ended well.

“Are you alright, Miss Riza?” Alex’s voice, gentle and kind rumbled next to her.

She turned her attention back to the large man and gave him a smile. “Yes,” she said. “Just distracted. And suspicious.”

Alex looked over at his parents and the Fuhrer. “Yes, well… I can’t much blame you there. More tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” She waited a moment while he poured her tea. “You know you can just call me Riza in moments like this, don’t you?”

Alex smiled at her as he put the teapot back down. “Yes, you’ve told me. But it isn’t considered proper. If I remember correctly, your grandfather wanted you to learn the social graces.”

Riza made a brief face. “Honestly, all of these high society rules are for the birds. No offense, Alex, but it just isn’t for me.”

“No, I understand.” He sat down next her on the small couch. “It can be stifling. Sometimes I think that’s part of the reason Olivier got out and stays away.”

“That… makes sense,” Riza said. She took a sip of her tea and looked around them. “To be honest, it’s hard to imagine her in a place like this. She’s always been General Armstrong to me.”

Alex chuckled. “I can see why that would be hard. But my big sis can be just as terrifying in a ball gown and sharply applying the social graces. I sometimes think that if she had stayed, she would be the most formidable woman high society has seen in quite some time.”

Riza’s lips tipped up at that. “Somehow, that last part doesn’t surprise me. Still,” she sighed. “I don’t think this is the life for me. It’s definitely not how I grew up or been part of my plans for life.”

“It was quite a surprise when Fuhrer Grumman was revealed to be your grandfather,” Alex said. “I can see how that and the introduction to high society would be jarring.”

“It was a surprise to me as well,” Riza admitted. “It raises a lot of questions. How long he’s known, why my mother left, why he didn’t try to find her, why he didn’t tell me…” she shook her head and looked over at them again. “The tricky old coot won’t tell me anything,” she scowled.

Alex chuckled again. “True as that may be, it’s probably best that you don’t refer to the Fuhrer that way in front of people.”

Riza snorted lightly. “Well, I can’t bring myself to call him ‘grandfather’ so I suppose just ‘Fuhrer’ will have to do.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of his father calling out to them.

“Alex! Miss Hawkeye. Please come here a moment.”

“Of course, father,” Alex said, sitting his teacup down.

Riza had already sat hers down as well, but Alex stood and politely offered her a hand up. Riza took it, as, she had learned, was polite, and then the two of them made their way over to the three older individuals in the room. The three of them looked quite pleased and happy, and Riza was sure that she could see tears the elder Armstrongs’ eyes. Grumman looked far too pleased with himself, and Riza was immediately suspicious.

“Alex, son, we have been talking,” Philip began, “and observing, and I think we’ve come to an arrangement that is most agreeable for all parties.” He reached out, and took Alex’s hand in his, and then reached for Riza’s putting the two of them together. Genevieve Armstrong let out a sniffle. “A marriage arrangement between the two of you has been set. Congratulations!”

For a moment, there was a silence in the room, the only sound Genevieve’s sniffles as she cried at the occasion.

“What?!” Riza’s voice broke the silence, and she wrenched her hand free of the hold it was in. “What do you mean, a marriage arrangement? I didn’t agree to this!”

“We have the blessings of your grandfather, dear,” Genevieve said. “He is, of course, the head of your family, as you have no other living relatives. He’s within his rights to find and provide for you as best he can.”

“I don’t care about that!” Riza snapped out. “It isn’t his decision to make!”

“It is, actually,” Grumman said. “Once you were declared my heir, legally, this is something that I can arrange.”

“I refuse,” Riza said.

“Now, now, Alex is a smart match for you,” Philip said. “We’ve been watching you two. It’s obvious that you get along quite well. It would be advantageous for both families.”

“It would provide you with money and social clout. With just a word anything or anyone you support would have backers behind him.” Grumman said.

Riza stared at him for a moment. She understood what he was saying. If she married Alex, then she could catapult Roy to the top. Fury filled her as she swept her eyes over the three conspirators in the room, and then she switched her look to Alex, demanding to know if he had anything to do with this. He looked just as shocked as she did and shook his head a small amount.

Rage filling her, Riza stood stock still and straight, and then she turned on her heel and began walking away.

“Where are you going?” Genevieve asked her. “There’s still the meal to celebrate.”

“I’m leaving,” Riza said. “I’m going back to the city.”

“That’s a long walk,” Grumman said. “Wait until after the meal, and then we’ll—”

“No.” the word was spat out. “I’m leaving, even if I have to walk the whole way.”

And with that, she made her way out of the door, leaving them all behind.

Alex looked over at the other adults in the room and made a decision himself. “Riza—Miss Riza, wait!” he took off after her, leaving the three behind.

Riza was, it seemed, fast and had a good memory. She had already found her way outside and was going down the steps of the front door by the time Alex caught up with her. She was clearly angry and clearly determined. She reminded Alex so much of his sister in that moment. A strong, beautiful woman rejecting the decisions others had made for her. He admired that about both women, just in different ways.

He caught up with her as she walked—practically marched—down the long drive, her heels in her hand, pantyhose stuffed inside them, walking barefoot. “Please, Riza, wait a moment.”

She didn’t slow. “Did you have anything to do with this,” she demanded of him.

“No! No,” he said quickly. “I knew my parents were looking for a match for me, but I didn’t expect this.” He shook his head. “If this had been an option, I would have approached you beforehand to make sure that you were receptive to it. But I would never ask this of you.”

“Why not?” she demanded again, “This society seems dead set on making decisions for me.”

“Because I see what you and Roy Mustang have, and I would never ask you to give that up.”

She startled at that, and looked up at him, shock on her face as she paused. He held out a pair of shoes to her.

“Please,” he said. “Will you put these on? It will be better than walking in your heels or barefoot all the way back to your apartment.”

She sighed, and then reached for the shoes, sitting down on a small wall to put them on. “…I’m sorry for being angry at you,” she said as she pulled them on and adjusted the ties. “This was just… very unexpected and not at all what I wanted.” She looked up at him. “You’re a fine man, Alex. But you’re not the man for me.”

“No,” he said, “I’m not. That man is Roy Mustang, and Fuhrer Grumman knows it as well.”

Riza sighed and stood back up with the new footwear on her feet. “I need to tell Roy. And we need to make it clear that this idea of a marriage between us is not happening.” She started walking again.

“There may be ways around it,” Alex said. “I can do some research and we can talk to them.” He began walking beside her. “Tomorrow we can plan more. I will find a way out of this for us, Riza. It isn’t fair to you to be thrust into this world and its expectations and rules.”

“We’ll find a way,” she said. “I don’t want to take away your shot at happiness either.”

He rumbled an agreement, and the two kept walking, discussing what they might do in the next couple of days to end this before it became a problem.

They were not fast enough. News of their engagement was in the papers the next morning and announced on the radio as well. It was, naturally, the talk of everyone. Riza couldn’t take ten steps without someone congratulating her or questioning her. By the time she arrived in the office, her face was thunderous, and she still had her team to deal with.

As soon as she entered all eyes were on her. No one said anything for a moment.

“…So…” Havoc said.

“It was not my idea,” she spat out. “And no, it wasn’t Alex Armstrong’s either.” She marched over to her desk and all but slammed her bag down. “It was Fuhrer Grumman’s—apparently, my dear grandfather,” the words were spit out with more sarcasm than anyone in the room had ever heard her make, “can make these kinds of arrangements for me, seeing as I’m his heir or something because of some arcane law.”

“Wow. That’s… messed up,” Havoc said.

“What are you going to do about it?” Breda asked.

“Well, I’m not marrying Alex,” Riza said.

“Obviously,” Breda replied.

“What does he think about all of this?” Fuery asked.

She sighed, a little of her anger melting. “He was blindsided by it too. Neither of us were expecting this. He has more knowledge of high society and its rules than I do, so he’s going to look into what can be done. We just didn’t expect the news to drop this soon.”

“And Mustang?” Havoc asked.

“I told him about this last night,” Riza replied. “So, he’s not unaware. But this whole thing is a mess.” She stopped and let out a sigh. “If this is what Grumman was like as a father, I think I understand why my mother ran away.”

“Well, the boss wanted you to go in and see him as soon as you got here,” Havoc said. “He called for Armstrong too.”

Riza sighed. “Right.” Straightening her back, she went into his inner office.

This was going to be a long day.

Needless to say, the day did not go well. There was no easy way out of this that would not end badly in some way shape or form. Grumman had, as usual, played things to his advantage. If Alex refused the arrangement, he was bringing shame on his family, his parents, himself, and the Armstrong name. That would impact the influence that he was bringing to the restoration of Ishval. If Roy pressed or made some sort of big deal out of this, it would hurt his standing with the public and with society, which would negatively impact his chances for Fuhrer and the restoration of Ishval. For Riza to back out would bring shame to her, make her seem ungrateful, and bring negative consequences as well. Riza and Roy running away together, as her own mother and father did, wouldn’t bode well either.

They could take it to the courts, but by the time anything as far as Riza’s legal standing as Grumman’s heir was concerned would be resolved, the wedding would have long since passed. And, unfortunately, there were legitimate benefits to Riza marrying Alex, namely in the influence she could bring to Roy and to his causes. And, of course, it sent Grumman back into high society himself.

By the end of the day, all three were worn out and stumped.

“I think,” Alex said, “We need to talk to Olivier.”

Roy groaned from his chair, his head on the desk. “She hates me.” He lifted his head. “But do you think she would help Riza?”

“Yes, she would,” Alex said. “She likes Riza. But more than that, she hates the idea of anyone being forced into something they didn’t agree to.”

Riza let out a huff. “Isn’t that what arranged marriages are all about? The fathers get together and pick out where the girl should go—like she’s a prize or something to be given away.”

Alex shook his head. “I can understand why you feel that way, but it is supposed to be a much different than this has turned out. The idea was that loving parents would find someone for their child that would love and protect them. The children trusted that the parents would have their best interests in mind and would give the other person a chance. Even if there wasn’t love to start with, many of these marriages, when done the right way, have worked out wonderfully. The problem is, of course, when the system is abused.”

Riza shook her head. “Perhaps you could trust your parents that much, Alex, but I’ve been used too many times by people that were supposed to look out for me and didn’t. I’m not giving up my agency.”

Alex looked at her, compassion in his eyes. “I understand. And I believe Olivier will as well.”

Two days later they managed to get a hold of her. Alex, Riza and Roy gathered at a small cottage on the Armstrong estate, one far enough removed from the main house that no one would bother them. It took some time, but they did eventually get Olivier on the line.

“Took you long enough, Alex,” she said into the phone. “I assume Hawkeye and Mustang are there with you.”

“Yes, Sister,” Alex said. “They’re here as well.”

“Good.” She paused. “I read about your engagement in the newspaper. I wondered how long it would take for you to come to me.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Riza asked.

Olivier paused again. “It is… a difficult situation,” she finally said. “Our parents are right—It’s a smart match. Hawkeye is a decorated war hero, helped to save the country, is known for her intelligence, high level of skills, and is beautiful. Her connection to the Grumman name is also a boon, as it brings in more family ties and money to the family. Alex is now seen not as a disgraced soldier, but as one who tried to speak out in Ishval. He was heavily involved in saving the country as well. He’s strong, capable, intelligent and considered attractive. The Armstrong name is a boon in and of itself and would definitely bolster the faded Grumman name. As an added bonus, the two of you are already familiar with each other and get along. Logistically it is a good match.”

“I don’t care if it’s a smart match,” Riza said heatedly, “I’m not marrying Alex!”

“Yes, I assumed as much,” Olivier drawled. “Everyone knows you and Mustang are in love.”

“You’re the head of the Armstrong family, though,” Roy said. “Can’t you do something about it?”

Olivier snorted loudly enough to be heard over the phone. “All that grifting, and you still don’t understand high society.”

“Arranged marriages are a norm,” Alex explained. “They are something that parents are allowed to set up for their children.”

“It goes back to a very old law that was never changed,” Olivier said. “Most of the members of high society never saw any reason to change it. There’s very little recourse to it.”

“So there’s nothing you can do?” Roy asked. “Even as the head of the family.”

“Can you tell them that you don’t approve of the match and end it there?” Riza asked.

There was silence from the other end. “That… is tricky. Typically, the parents or guardians are the heads of the families so there’s no conflict. This situation is a bit more difficult. I am the head of the family, which means I have the final say in many things, and that my opinion carries a lot of weight. However, our parents are the ones who get the final say in these matters, unless they are declared incompetent or give up this right.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Riza asked, desperately. Roy reached for her hand, and she held it tightly. “Or anything I can do?”

“I can contest it on the grounds of not being informed as head of the family. That will give us a review period that will delay things,” Olivier said. “It’s only a delaying tactic, though. I’m having Falman do a review of the law to see if there’s anything we can take advantage of.”

“I’m having Sheska do the same,” Alex said. “Ross and Brosh are helping her out.”

“The team has been seeing what they can find out or do as well,” Roy said.

“Rebecca is making waves where she can as well.” Riza said.

“Good,” Olivier said. “The more people working on this the better. If public tide can be turned against it, that will help as well. Hawkeye.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I don’t like people being manipulated like this. We will find a way to help you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Olivier did as she promised, and any further announcements or celebrations were put on hold. That didn’t stop Grumman from assigning Riza and Alex to work together on things, nor did it stop them from being pushed together in high society moments. The tabloids were all over this, managing to grab pictures of private moments between them. The moments, in full context, weren’t romantic, but that didn’t stop the tabloids and papers from spinning them that way. Alex and Riza were seen together more and more often, and they were quickly becoming the media darlings that the country had been hoping for.

It wasn’t going much better in the legal department. There was a chance that the mess could be untangled in the courts, but it would take years, which was something that they didn’t have. Olivier even came down to make the case against this to her parents, but they would have none of it. It was looking like there was no choice but to either go along with it or run the risk of disrupting everything that had been worked for.

At least, until one day when Falman, who had come along with Olivier, and Sheska came running into Mustang’s office. They had a nervous but excited energy about them. The team, Olivier, and the Elrics, who had come when they heard all that was going on, were in the office, trying to brainstorm.

“Sir!” Falman said, “We might have something.”

Everyone sat up straighter.

“You do?” Mustang asked.

“Well, maybe,” Sheska said. “We’re not entirely sure, but it might work, if everything lines up correctly.”

“For lack of a better word, we’re calling it the ‘truth clause’,” Falman explained. “It basically boils down to this: have you ever told the truth about your love?” Falman asked.

Roy and Riza exchanged looks, but Olivier was frowning. “That sounds too easy. If it were as simple as that, hundreds of arranged marriages would have been absolved. What’s the catch?”

Falman and Sheska exchanged looks.

“There are conditions,” Sheska said. “It has to have been a declaration of love to someone else that’s not part of the marriage arrangement within the past three years. It had to have had witnesses, clergy is especially encouraged, and been proven and shown to be true again and again before, during and since the declaration.”

“Sirs, if I may,” Falman said, “we’ve seen evidence of how much you love each other for years. No one who knows you doubts it—including, I’m sure, Grumman himself. The main question is, has there been a confession.”

“And were there any clergy involved.” Sheska added.

Edward perked up. “Alright, problem solved,” he said, and then blinked when everyone just stared at him.

“What are you talking about, Brother?” Alphonse asked him.

Ed swiveled his head back around to look at Roy and Riza. “…Are you serious? That whole business in the tunnels underneath Central on the Promised Day? Did you forget that?”

“We could never forget that,” Roy said.

“But what does that have to do with anything?” Riza asked.

“Geeze, look, if that wasn’t a love confession in your own weird way, then I don’t know what was.” Ed said. “You two weren’t even pretending anymore.”

“Wait wait—what went on in the tunnels?” Havoc said. “I’ve not heard this.”

“Well, he,” Ed pointed at Roy, “was chasing down Envy after Envy confessed to killing Hughes. Only it wasn’t to bring him to justice, it was in vengeance. Hawkeye caught up to him just before he was going to kill Envy and held a gun on him. She pleaded with him to stop, reminding him of some sort of promises they had made to each other years ago and saying that she would take care of Envy for him. It didn’t seem to do anything, and Scar and I put in our two cens as well, not that it made much of a difference.  Hawkeye pleaded with him again, only much more personally, as if they were actually a couple. He asked her what she would do after she shot him, and she said that after the battle was over, she’d kill herself because she had no intentions of going on alone. He surrendered to her after that, saying that he couldn’t lose her too, and apologized her hurting her again. They both lowered their weapons and sat down right there together. It was practically a love confession.”

“Woah.” Most of the individuals in the room looked at each other in shock, even while Roy and Riza looked at each other, clearly wanting to say more.

Olivier, however, was looking thoughtful. “When the sacrifices caught up with the rest of us again, the way the two of you addressed each other was incredibly informal—as one would address a longtime lover, or a spouse, not as a subordinate and commander. That too can be taken as proof.”

“Edward,” Sheska said, “You said that Scar was there, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t he a priest or some sort of clergy of Ishval?”

There was a moment of silence before the room went wild.

“Wait, wait!” Falman said and waited until everyone had calmed down. “There’s one more thing. It has to be public. The declaration didn’t have to be, but the acknowledgement of it does.”

A hush fell over the room.

Roy and Riza looked at each other.

“What would that mean for us working together, sir?” Riza asked. “I made a promise to you.”

Roy looked at her, and then reached over for her hand, intertwining their fingers. “I know. And I made one to you. We’d have to figure it out.”

Olivier looked from them to Falman and Sheska. “What do the fraternization regulations say about two people who are in love?” she asked them.

“Oh, it says nothing about them being in love,” Sheska said. “It talks about romantic relationships and marriage. Love is implied, but not specifically stated.

Olivier nodded. “Are you two in a romantic relationship?”

They both shook their head. “Until our work is done, we’ve denied ourselves that. It’s more important than us.” Riza said.

“Then by the letter of the regulations, you should be fine.”

“…You know,” Fuery spoke up, “I still have friends at Radio Capital. They let me do a show there every so often or fill in. I’m sure they’d love to interview the happy couple of Alex Louis Armstrong and Riza Hawkeye. Especially as an exclusive.”

“If we can get Scar to agree to be on the show—” Roy said.

“I’ll be a witness,” Ed said. “Maybe Al can talk to the chimeras.”

Al frowned at his brother’s choice of words but nodded. “I’m sure they’ll want to help.”

“I can find the Central soldiers who were there,” Rebecca said.

“I’ll call my men from Briggs who witnessed your reunification,” Olivier said.

“You’ve also got all of us to give you a hand about the past,” Havoc said.

Riza looked around the room at them all. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all so much.”

It took a couple of weeks for all of the plans to fall into place, but that gave Radio Capital time to promote and advertise. It was the talk of the country and by the time the day came, nearly everyone was tuned in. Everyone wanted to hear this interview.

“And now the interview everyone has been waiting for. In the past months an engagement between Alex Louis Armstrong of the Armstrong family and Riza Emmaline Hawkeye, who was recently revealed to be our Fuhrer’s granddaughter, was announced. It was unexpected and caused quite a stir, especially since no interviews or further announcements were made. All the public had to go off of were the pictures that tabloid photographers managed to take.

“But the couple has agreed to give Radio Capital an exclusive interview on how this engagement came to be, what the future holds, and the thoughts and opinions of many of their family, friends and coworkers. We’ve got a high-profile line up for you tonight, so hang on, folks and stay tuned in!”

“Alright, welcome back from the commercial break, folks. With us here to start off are Lieutenant Colonel Alex Louis Armstrong and Captain Riza Hawkeye. Tell us, how did you two meet?”

“The first time we encountered one another was in Ishval. The interactions were brief, as I was a state alchemist, and she was a sniper.”

“I see. So, you didn’t really get to know each other there, then.”

“No. And our tours didn’t overlap by much.”

“That’s right, Lieutenant Colonel. You were sent home early. The common belief was that you cracked under the pressure of war. That is obviously not true.”

“It is, in a way. When I saw the atrocities committed there, I found that I could not stand the thought of being party to them any longer. Unfortunately, instead of standing up for what I believed in, I ‘cracked’ and allowed myself to be removed from the battlefield. It’s one of my biggest regrets, that I didn’t do more to speak up then.”

“But if you had, would it have made a difference?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that I should have tried.”

“I see. Now, Captain Hawkeye, I’m told your experience on the battlefield was different then the Lieutenant Colonel’s.”

“Yes. I was pulled from the academy to serve as a sniper on the front. Snipers are solitary creatures, so we don’t interact much with other soldiers or make many friends. Compounding that, to survive the war with my sanity intact, I pulled my emotions back and built-up walls. Not many people managed to get close to me.”

“Not many. But there were a few.”

“Yes. Most notably was then-Major Mustang. He and I had known each other in the past, but we managed to find each other on the battlefield. He introduced me to Maes Hughes, and he became a friend as well. We grew close, and that closeness remains to this day. I’m certain that if Hughes were still alive, he would be close with the both of us still.”

“Interesting. So, when did the two of you really get to know each other?”

“…I suppose it was just from all of the times working together.”

“Did that happen frequently?”

“Brigadier General Hughes was my direct commanding officer in Investigations. We did a lot of work with General Mustang’s unit when we were in the East.”

“Hughes used to say that Roy attracted trouble like a magnet.”

“That he did.”

“So, you two got to know each other over the years. Was there any time there seemed to be more frequent encounters?”

“Hm… I suppose in the year before the Day of the Eclipse. Roy—that is, General Mustang—had been concerned about a plot in the military. That only grew with the passing of Maes Hughes.”

“I was brought into the fold mostly because of Hughes, as well as because of the Elric brothers. I was more fully inducted after Mustang supposedly killed Maria Ross, who was one of my subordinates.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, it was all a ruse, and he found a way to let me know.”

“In the planning leading up to the Day of the Eclipse, Alex became a point of contact for many things, mostly because of the connections his family had. It was after that, when we started to become more friendly. When it was revealed that I was Fuhrer Grumman’s granddaughter, Alex helped me negotiate my way through high society.”

“I couldn’t leave Riza to navigate that minefield alone. I knew I could help her.”

“I see. And that’s when romance began to bloom.”

“No.”

“No.”

“No?”

“There’s nothing between Alex and myself but friendship. I value and cherish that, but there is no romance here at all.”

“Surely there must be. You two are engaged, after all.”

“It was the idea of my parents and her grandfather. We were not consulted on the matter at all.”

“Not at all?”

“Not one bit.”

“That seems… unreasonable.”

“I thought so as well.”

“It’s a fairly common and well-used method of high class. Most marriages are arranged. I expected something similar to happen to me one day. However, I did not expect for myself and the potential bride to be completely excluded from the process.”

“Is it common for the children to be involved when the parents are arranging these marriages?”

“It’s typical that the children know and understand that the parents are actively considering someone as a potential partner. Even though there were meetings and outings, neither of us were aware that they were to see if we were a good match.”

“I see. Captain, this must have all be quite a shock to you.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Were you aware of this custom of arranged marriages?”

“I come from a very small town in the east. As a child, I remember marriages being arranged between daughters and sons, but it was a dying way of doing things. Most of the time, if a boy and a girl showed interest in each other, the parents would get involved, just to make sure that the children would be able to work well together and take care of each other.”

“Did you ever expect anything like that to happen with you?”

“…I was unsure, truthfully. My mother passed when I was young, and my father was too focused on his work to care much about me. I was never sure if he would have just ignored me or if he would have married me off to get me out of the way. However, he passed when I was sixteen, so I suppose I’ll never know.”

“It doesn’t seem like either of you are too excited about this engagement. Do you think it was rushed into, and that you won’t work well together?”

“It actually is a smart match on the part of our elders. I am very fond of Riza, and she has said that she feels friendship for me. It’s obvious that we get along, and we have enough common ground that we can work well together. The tying together of the two families and what could be done with that power and influence is also a great boon to either of us. The marriage would be advantageous, and I believe that we would get along.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“She’s in love with someone else.”

“…that does change things. Do your elders know about this?”

“I believe that my grandfather does, yes, although I’ve never said so directly to him.”

“I see. Is this a new development for you?”

“No. I’ve loved him for years.”

“If you’ve loved this man for that long, why haven’t you married him?”

“Our positions wouldn’t have allowed for it, not if we wanted to keep moving forward with our work. Married couples aren’t allowed to work under each other due to fraternization regulations. As much as we loved each other, we felt that our goals were more important.”

“I see. And what were these goals?”

“To make sure that another Ishval can never happen again. To keep power in check so that no one man or group of men can order the murder of innocents again. To rebuild Ishval and do all that we can to pay back the harm and pain that we caused.”

“Captain… with what you’ve said here, it sounds like…”

“Yes. I am in love with General Roy Mustang. I have been for years. Even if I can’t marry him, I’m not going to betray that love by marrying someone else.”

“Does he love you as well?”

“Yes. He does.”

“And you’ve always kept this hidden?”

“No. There are people who know—people who have seen our confession to each other. People who have seen our actions towards one another. People who have heard our words to each other. It isn’t well-known, but it is known.”

“….well, with that listeners, we’ll go to commercial break. But expect more when we get back!”

“Welcome back, listeners! We’ve given the Lieutenant Colonel and Captain a bit of a break after the last segment, and now we welcome two more guests that know them well. First Lieutenants Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda. Both have worked under General Roy Mustang for quite a while, and, going along with that, Captain Hawkeye. Tell me, boys—were you surprised at all by the captain’s confession a few minutes ago?”

“Naw. We all knew that there was something between them for a long time.”

“They’re not as good at hiding their past as they think they are.”

“What made you think that?”

“There were these little things. Looks, the way she’d indulge him, the way he would give into her… I mean, it was clear there was some kind of a past there.”

“They kept it professional, though. They didn’t do anything romantic in sight of anyone.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“There was never any hand holding, sweet words, talks of plans together. While it was obvious there was a history there was never any solid clue as to what kind of a history. They could have been childhood neighbors.”

“Yeah, but after the Day of the Eclipse, things changed. They were, I don’t know… more touchy? Although the General was blind for a while there, so he kind of needed touch so that he could get around and—"

“Please hang on viewers, someone is pounding on our glass—it’s a woman. She’s coming in now and—”

“Jean Thaddeus Havoc! You take all the romance out of everything!”

“Aw, Bec, come on. I was just saying—”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Rebecca Catalina, Captain Riza Hawkeye’s best friend. And honestly these two don’t know how to tell a good story—especially a true one.”

“Catalina, we really don’t need—”

“Don’t you start in with me too, Red! Alright, let me tell you how this really goes. Riza and I, we were roommates at the academy. I didn’t get shipped out with her, but before that we were roommates, and after it too. Let me tell you, that girl is good at holding her emotions in. Fortunately, I’m good at noticing them anyway.”

“Please go on, Lieutenant.”

“I’m pretty sure that Riza and Mustang knew each other beforehand. But after Ishval they started working closer together, with her as his adjunct. I knew from the get-go that there was more to these two then met the eye. Oh, of course it wasn’t romantic at first, but there was a connection of some sort there. Over the years I saw it develop into fondness, and then to outright love.  Yes, they both dated others—Mustang more than Riza ever did—but they always ended up back with each other again. Riza would never tell me who she was in love with, but I know a woman in love when I see one! It didn’t take me long to figure it out. And after the Day of the Eclipse, it was even more obvious.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not entirely sure what happened in the tunnels below Central, but I do know that some sleezebag tried to use Riza against Mustang by slitting her throat open, and that whatever it was he tried to force Mustang to do didn’t work. I’m so glad that little pink princess from Xing was there to help them out! She saved Riza’s life! What I do know is that when I saw Riza again, the doctors were trying to keep her from bleeding out again, and one of the first things she did was ask about Mustang. She wouldn’t settle down well until after she had found out that he was alive and relatively okay. When I found Mustang, he wouldn’t settle down until he was sure she was alright. They both had to know about the other first.”

“That wasn’t anything new.”

“Hush you! I’m telling a story!”

“Please go on, Lieutenant.”

“Anyway, they were just worse in the hospital, always asking about the other until the staff finally got tired of it and just put them in a room together. I mean, Mustang was blind, it wasn’t like he could see anything anyway, and Riza—yeah, yeah, Riza, I see you threatening me through the glass, you know you love me—would be able to rest her voice more if she wasn’t constantly asking about him. But honestly, whatever happened down there, it changed them. They were both more driven, but also more open with each other and themselves. To anyone who knew them before, the way they look at each other, the way they talk to each other, the way they support and care about each other—they might as well be confessing.”

“Interesting! So, you three say that you know without a doubt that Mustang and Hawkeye are in love?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Alright, well, we’re up against a hard break, but when we come back, let’s hope we can hear more about what happened in those tunnels!”

“Welcome back, listeners! We have quite a treat for you! Sitting before me are two people who I never thought I’d have sitting in my studio, much less together! The Ishvalan known as Scar, and the former Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric! Welcome, both of you.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you.”

“So, my producer says that you two know what went on down in those tunnels?”

“Yeah, we were there—although I wasn’t there for all of it, because I didn’t see the part where Hawkeye got her neck sliced open.”

“I witnessed that.”

“So was there something else that happened in those tunnels? Something before then?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell us about it?”

“…You heard Hawkeye mention Maes Hughes earlier, right? Well, what she didn’t say was how close he and Mustang were. When Hughes was murdered, it set him off. He was determined to find Hughes’s killer. The individuals in the conspiracy tried to pin it on Ross, but Mustang saw through that and saved her instead. But he kept looking for the killer. Down under Lab 3, he found the killer, who confessed. Mustang then set out after him—but not to bring him to justice. It was vengeance, plain and simple.”

“Vengeance?”

“It was. I saw it on the Flame’s face when he had captured his foe.”

“Scar’s right. It was obvious to all of us, but especially to Hawkeye. When Scar and I got there, the suspect had already injured Hawkeye, and Mustang had started to take his revenge before Hawkeye stopped him. I took control of the suspect then, getting him away from Mustang. Mustang demanded him back, and I refused. He threatened, and that was when Hawkeye started talking to him.”

���Oh? What did the captain say?”

“That’s the thing. It wasn’t just what she said, but how she said it. Hawkeye and Mustang had always been incredibly formal around me—around everyone. She always called him ‘sir’ and by his rank, and kept her tone very professional. Mustang called her by her rank and last name, also, professional, usually. But it was like at that moment, they dropped all pretense. They spoke to each other like… like…”

“Like a wife to a husband, like a husband to a wife. They spoke as equals who loved each other deeply and were hurting each other deeply.”

“What do you mean by hurting each other deeply?”

“Captain Hawkeye was pleading with Flame not to kill the individual that we held captive. She said that she would take care of it, but that she couldn’t allow him to walk down the path he was heading. He refused to listen, and Elric and I both spoke up. Elric told him to take a good look at his face, and I told him I had no right to tell him what to do. Captain Hawkeye then pleaded with him again. She spoke of promises made—promises, I could tell, that were as deeply held as any marriage vows.”

“It’s the only time I’ve seen Hawkeye’s hand shake while holding a gun.”

“Flame asked her what she would do after she shot him. The pain that crossed her face was deep and grief-stricken. She replied that she had no plans on going on without him, and that after the battle she would end her life. Flame let loose with an explosion down a side tunnel, and then turned to her. He declared that he couldn’t lose her. They lowered their weapons and collapsed together after that. It was an intense moment of confession between two people who share a deep love.”

“That sounds like an incredible moment you witnessed.”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’d ever seen two people show that kind love and devotion.”

“Was that where the captain got her throat slit?”

“No, because I was still there. It happened after I was separated from the group.”

“I was there, though.”

“Can you tell us what happened then?”

“We were captured. A man demanded that the Flame preform human transmutation. When he refused, the man had one of his subordinates slit the neck of Captain Hawkeye to ensure that Flame would perform it. She encouraged him not to give in. In a display of strength, he honored her wishes. I believe that she somehow knew that there were allies waiting for their chance and somehow communicated that to Flame. It was shortly afterward that these allies dropped from the ceiling. As soon as there was an opportunity, Flame was rushing to her side, ignoring all else. I could hear him calling to her. Mei, the Chang Princess from Xing, was able to do something to help stabilize her. When the battle was over, Flame was holding Captain Hawkeye closely. The tenderness was obvious.”

“So you’re saying that you have no doubt that they were in love even then.”

“They were clearly, deeply in love, and confessed it in front of me.”

“Have you seen love confessions before?”

“Yes. Before the destruction of Ishval, I was a priest. I saw many love confessions while serving in the temple. Since returning back to my roots to restore and rebuild my people, I have, again, taken up some of my duties. What I witnessed was as clearly a confession of love as anything I have ever seen.”

“What an incredible story, folks. But hang in there. More is to come!”

“Alright folks, we’ve heard from Alex Louis Armstrong and Riza Armstrong themselves about the way their engagement came about, and why they don’t want to go through with it. We’ve learned that Captain Hawkeye and General Mustang are in love and have been for years. We’ve heard about the way they’ve treated each other over the years from various coworkers, about the confession they had in front of Scar and Edward Elric, about the way they addressed each other as lovers on the Day of the Eclipse from Briggs soldiers and civilians who were involved, about how they loved each other early on from the wife of a close friend, and many others. Now we’re going to hear from the head of the Armstrong family herself, Lieutenant General Olivier Mira Armstrong. General, we’d love to hear your opinion on all of this as the head of the Armstrong family. Were you aware of this? What are your feelings on the matter?”

“This is a complicated situation, mired in old laws and societal rules that are, quite frankly, outdated.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. As my brother stated earlier, arranged marriages are common in high society families. I understand why, in the past, they were common. It was a way for families to ensure that their daughters would be well cared for in a world with limited options, as well as to strengthen ties between families. Ideally, the parents would also be looking out for the children’s best interests as well, including if the partner would be a good one.”

“I see. So, you don’t approve of arranged marriages then?”

“I neither approve nor disapprove of the practice in general. It’s the execution of it I often take issue with, as well as the legally binding ways it can entrap people—especially women—in a day when there is no need for a woman to rely on a man, especially not a woman like Riza Hawkeye.”

“Do you approve of the match between your brother and Captain Hawkeye?”

“I think it’s a smart match. Hawkeye is smart, capable, sharp, and independent. She would be a good compliment to my brother in many ways, and I think that she would adapt quickly to high society life. She would be able to live well and, if I am honest, I wouldn’t mind having her for a sister-in-law. Alex would, in turn provide and care for Hawkeye, and treat her exceptionally well.”

“So, you’re for the marriage then?”

“No. I’m against it.”

“But you just said it was a smart match.”

“It is. However, it isn’t something that both parties want. Hawkeye is clearly in love with Mustang. To force her into a marriage that she does not want would be cruel and would take away her autonomy. My brother would never want to do that to her, or to any woman. He is not willing to marry a woman that does not want the marriage.”

“I see. So, are you absolving the agreement then?”

“I don’t have the authority to do that.”

“But you’re the head of the Armstrong family.”

“Yes, I am. However, arranged marriages fall under the purview of the parents or guardians of the individuals in question. Usually, the parents and heads of family are one in the same, so there is no issue there. The Armstrong family situation is unique.”

“So, you’re saying that both your brother and Captain Hawkeye are trapped in this engagement? That has to be difficult.”

“I’m certain it is. This is why I would encourage more communication before such arrangements take place. There are only two ways to absolve the engagement in a lawful and honorable manner at this point.”

“Oh? What would those be?”

“One would be for the parents or guardians to absolve it themselves. However, neither the Fuhrer nor my parents seemed willing to do that.”

“What’s the other way?”

“For there to be a history of one of the parties being in love with someone else. There has to be evidence of it, a confession, preferably in front of clergy, and a public declaration of the matter.”

“….you mean such as coworkers who have worked with the individuals for years speaking up about it, and Ishvalan priest seeing the confession and it being broadcast on the radio.”

“That would be an acceptable manner in which to do it, yes.”

“So does this mean--?”

“This means that legally, according to the law, my brother and Captain Hawkeye are free to absolve their engagement.”

“Folks, you can’t see this, but through the window to my studio, there are a number of happy people out there. I think this is a good time to take a break. But stay tuned. We’ll have more on this when we return!”

“Alright folks, in studio we have Lieutenant Colonel Alex Louis Armstrong, Captain Riza Hawkeye, and General Roy Mustang. It’s been quite an evening for you all! An engagement, a confession, and now a broken engagement. Tell us, General—do you really love Captain Hawkeye as she loves you?”

“I do. I have for years.”

“How did you feel when you found out about the engagement?”

“Riza called me the night it happened. She and Alex were going to work on ways to quietly try to break it off. Unfortunately, the announcement the next day made that difficult.”

“I can imagine! How do you feel now that the engagement has been broken?”

“Relieved.”

“Captain Hawkeye, how about you?”

“It’s as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders.”

“You weren’t happy being engaged to Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong?”

“Alex is a fine man and will make a wonderful husband one day. But he’s not the man to be my husband. I hold no ill will towards him. Instead, I’m grateful for all that he did to try to help me out of this situation. He respected my own autonomy, and for that I will be eternally grateful.”

“As will I.”

“Lieutenant Colonel, how are you feeling about all of this?”

“A marriage will not work, arranged or not, if the people in it do not want to be in it. While I will always cherish the friendship that Riza gives me, I am more than happy to help her find her way to her happiness. General Mustang, I know that Riza can take care of herself. But now as this is over, I am entrusting her care to you. I know that you two will take care of each other.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

“I feel it’s time for me to take my leave of you then. I hope all of your listeners have a marvelous evening.”

“Yes, thank you for your time, Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong. Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong has left the booth and now I’m here with Captain Hawkeye and General Mustang. So, after this confession, do you think you’ll be allowed to work together?”

“We should. The regulations only speak of marriage and dating relationships, not of people in love.”

“So, you two aren’t going to get married?”

“Not at this time. There’s just too much work we need to do and need to get accomplished.”

The door to the studio closed softly, and Alex Armstrong walked over to stand next to his sister. The murmur of voices could still be heard through the window, and Roy and Riza could be seen, hands intertwined as they enthusiastically talked about their plans for the future and for the rebuilding of Ishval. Olivier was standing to where she could look into the window, observing. Behind them, the murmur of other guests could be heard, all of them excited about what they had managed to pull off. Olivier wasn’t celebrating with the others. For a moment, they just stood there.

“…you would have loved her, wouldn’t you?” she finally asked him, speaking too softly for anyone else to hear.

“Yes. I would have given her the world.” He replied.

Olivier hummed. “But the world wasn’t what she wanted.”

“No. All she wanted was him. And so, I found a way to give him to her instead.”

Olivier said nothing, but just stood there. Finally, she let out a sigh so soft that Alex almost thought he imagined it. She turned, pausing to put a hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Alex. One day the right woman will come along for you.”

Alex said nothing for a moment, and then only responded with “Thank you, Sister.”

Olivier didn’t acknowledge his words, just walked away, and that was good enough for Alex. He didn’t need any more than that anyway. With his own internal sigh, he turned away from the window, determined not to let Riza know how he truly felt about her.

Before he could go too far, though, something ran into his leg, and he looked down to see a ball, with a little pigtailed girl running after it. Elicia Hughes.

“Sorry, sir!” she said. “It got away from me.”

“It’s alright,” he said, kneeling down. “It’s not the first time a ball has run into me.”

“Elicia! I hope you’re not bothering the Lieutenant Colonel.” Gracia hurried up to him.

“Oh, no, please, it was no bother at all.” Alex said.

“Still.” Gracia looked at her daughter. “You must be more careful. Especially if we go to the restaurant.”

“Restaurant?” Alex questioned.

Gracia nodded. “They’re talking about a celebration at a restaurant. It’s just been decided.”

“Oh! Sit with us!” Elicia said. “Please?”

“Elicia!” Gracia scolded again.

Alex smiled. “I would be honored to.”

Gracia looked up him and smiled herself. “Well in that case, you’re welcome.”

Alex glanced back at the window, and then back at Gracia.

Even if he didn’t have love, he at least had good people in his life. And that would be enough for him.

#writersmonth2021 #fma #Fullmetal Alchemist #riza hawkeye #alex louis armstrong #Roy Mustang #Olivier Mira Armstrong #and a whole lot of other people but these are the most relevant #fma fanfic #fullmetal alchemist fan fiction

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Hey, how you doing? :) first of all I want to say that I love your blog. I am very excited about everything that happened with Harry and the awards, I am very proud of him. I want to ask you two questions, the first is about Jeff and Harry, as fans we know what Jeff has done with Harry therefore I do not consider him his best friend but today I saw how he behaved with him, very calm and talking at ease, basically like best friends, what do you think this is due to? The second thing is that, as you know, many fans think that one of the rings (peace ring) was given by Louis since he never takes it off (he rarely does) therefore I don't know what to think since he wasn't wearing it today. I hope not to bother with my questions.

Hi anon,

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog! :)

So regarding Jeff: I’m not sure what you mean by “what Jeff has done with Harry”. I think Jeff has been an incredible manager who has helped and nurtured Harry in the industry. I think he’s helped Harry achieve his artistic vision and craft a highly successful career - which he clearly wants. I think it’s been clear time and time again that Harry does consider Jeff a friend and business partner. Which he is. We’ve seen it for years now. And from their interactions and dynamic at the Grammys today it’s even clearer that they have a great friendship with each other. Jeff seemed very proud and happy for Harry, and Harry thanked Jeff for supporting him and not pushing him.

I really don’t agree with the notion that Jeff is forcing Harry into a career he doesn’t want. Or is forcing Harry to be someone he isn’t. I think that couldn’t be further from the truth. I think Harry is a very smart person who has first hand experience of how the industry works. And he’s not some idiot teenager who is being taken advantage of by everyone he’s ever worked with. I think he knows first hand how awful and disgusting the industry can be. And I think he has got Jeff on his side to help him navigate through it while having to play the game and get what he wants as well as get to where he wants to be. But saying Harry is being forced by Jeff to take on projects or advance his career, to me, reflects a lack of understanding about how the industry works and at the same time negates Harry’s agency over himself. I think some fans don’t understand the work a manager does. As a manager Jeff works for Harry. To help Harry achieve his career goals. He’s not trying to beat down and sabotage his own artist at every turn. 

You can check out my Jeff tag for more about what I think about him.

And regarding the peace ring: he has taken it off a bunch of times before. I wouldn’t read anything into it or worry about it. It’s likely he didn’t have it on today bc he had cohesive outfits and accessories that told a story, and his rings are a part of it. So he had the new pearl ring (which is gorgeous) on his ring finger, and the bird painting ring on his middle. The bird one is similar to another ring he’s worn before, and that one was a Gucci collectible (I think) that Alessandro let him borrow. So I can see this one being the same. But the point is: he’s taken it off a bunch of times. It’s not a big deal. It’ll be back on soon enough :)

#mine #jeff azoff #jeff #peace ring #grammys 2021 #mar 14 2021 #mar 2021 #harry's manager

[buckyskorpion]

11 hours - part two

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: thank you guys so much for the incredible response i got to part one!! it made me so happy so thank you. let me know wha yall think of this bit, we’ve got some plot going on which i always enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one

You don’t hear from Bucky for a while after the party. It’s disappointing - you’re self-aware enough to admit that. But you also aren’t stupid enough to expect anything else. Bucky asked you to that party as a favour, you got a one-night-only special being in his life and you’re not expecting anything else.

You had hoped it wouldn’t have impacted your nightly rendezvous, but those had stopped too. You suppose Bucky decided not to trust you after all.

Almost three weeks later and you’re at work, thoughts of Bucky barely a buzz in the back of your head compared to the job at hand. You’ve always been able to let your work consume you, and it pays off in your line of business. Being a private investigator requires attention to detail, lateral thinking, and a questionable moral compass. Your patented paranoia doesn’t hurt either. Your dad tells you every time you visit that he wishes you’d get into something more stable, something less dirty, but you’re not really good at anything else. Considering the majority of your clients are partners trying to figure out if their significant other is cheating, it also pays well for quite minimal effort.

Quick rule of thumb for aspiring PI’s: they’re almost always cheating.

Today is one of those clients. You’ve tailed the guy in question to a tattoo shop in Red Hook, which is already a red flag. He’s an investment banker and buys Louis Vuitton cufflinks for his ugly work suits. He stands out like a sore thumb in this grungy neighbourhood. You snap a few photos of him outside the store, very obviously checking left and right for a tail before entering the place. People suck at being subtle, you’ve come to realise over the years. And at being observant, because all you’ve bothered to do to hide is sit at the cafe across the road and pretend to be taking photos of the latte art on your coffee.

Entering the tattoo parlour is a no-go, even if your grunge aesthetic would fit in with the clientele more than your straight-laced prey. There are other ways, though. You leave some bills on the table and cross the street into the alley beside the tattoo shop, wrinkling your nose at the dumpster smell. There’s a fire escape which you can reach if you stand on the lid of the offensive dumpster in question, leading to a window you hope will get you some insight into what Mike Shorditch of suspected-cheating fame is up to. Maybe he has a tattooed, lip-ringed young girlfriend he meets here? Or a heavy-set biker boyfriend? Or he just wants a tattoo and his wife is as paranoid as you are.

Squeezed uncomfortably between the bars of the fire-escape, you manage to aim your camera lens at the window and zoom in - jackpot. It’s a small window near the ceiling of the high-roofed shop, letting in minimal light to ruin the dark aesthetic of the place, allowing you a somewhat clear view of the shop inside. It’s really nice, you notice, and they have good taste in music. Slowly Slowly bleeds minimally through the glass and you try focus your lens on the faces inside, catching Mike among them like a unicorn in a goth reunion. He’s talking to someone, waving his hands around dramatically while the guy he talks to towers over him, arms folded over a ginormous chest.

You know that face, you realise as you aim your lens a little higher. The shock burns, almost makes you drop your camera and fall off the fire escape you’re precariously lying on. It’s Steve, blonde head unmistakeable as he glares at your target and dismisses whatever Mike says to him with an eyeroll. Without questioning it, you snap a few photos of Steve’s imposing figure - so at odds with the friendly, downright cuddly man you met at the party a few weeks ago. Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of thoughts about that night, they show up at your work. How is this possible?

None of this sits right with you. This strange coincidence, the weird behaviour at the party towards Bucky and his friends, Bucky’s general evasiveness and the feeling you get of being watched just being around him. Nothing is adding up and you’ve never been the kind of person to leave well enough alone. You snap photos of the shop, as much as you can - Steve’s tattoo sleeve that had been hidden under a jumper at the party, the stencils lining the walls, the locks on the front door, the counter where a scrawny kid in glasses bends over what looks like genuine high-school homework and ignores the adults in the shop. There are too many variables - you have to start making sense of one of them.

The easiest thread to pull is Mike, and he’s the one you’re being paid to solve, so it makes sense to start there. Clearly it isn’t cheating his wife should be worried about, but the meeting he’s having with Steve and the others doesn’t look like a friendly catch up with friends either. His personal cybersecurity is poor enough you figure you’ll be able to solve that particular mystery easy enough.

Bucky and his friends, however? That’s going to take a bit more digging.

***

According to Mike Shoreditch’s bank records, he owes somebody a lot of money. You get this from an account his wife doesn’t even know he has, believing all their money goes into a shared account with a completely different bank. Mike has a lot of secrets but cheating isn’t one of them - the print outs of his secret bank account statements and the pictures of him at Steve’s tattoo parlour would be enough for you to close the case and get your money. But you don’t. Not just yet. You have your own itch to scratch, now.

You’ve taken to watching the tattoo shop’s comings and goings, snapping pictures here and there. Steve comes in at ten in the morning, ready to open the shop up by lunchtime for customers and doesn’t close it until midnight. His customers are the usual sort you’d imagine at a rough tattoo shop in Red Hook - heavy set guys with full sleeves and chest pieces, grungy couples who probably live upstate but are rebelling against their trust-fund parents, random walk-ins who’s nerves you can sense from across the street at what’s become your usual table. There are a few, though, who stand out. Leather jackets and motorbikes they park in the alley beside the shop, using the back entrance you snap a shot of one night once they all went home.

You’re not jumping to conclusions just yet, you’ve learnt the hard way from doing that, but you’re also not stupid. Whatever Steve is into, whatever Bucky is by association a part of, there are some shady looking people involved as well.

It’s one of those days where you’re watching the shop from the cafe, camera left on the table in favour of devouring an almond croissant and cataloguing the people you’ve now dubbed regulars at Steve’s as they enter the shop. You should probably be doing your actual job but you can’t bring yourself to, too caught up in the shady business across the street from you. Absorbed, in fact, so you practically jump out of your skin as your phone rings and you send it flying to the pavement with an errant elbow.

You pick up without checking the ID, and boy was that a mistake. Heart pounding painfully in your chest, you answer, “Hi, hello, hi, this is (Y/n) speaking,” all in a rush.

A familiar, honey-warm laugh rumbles down the phone to you and your previously racing heart all but stops beating. Bucky says, “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Does he know? Had Steve caught you spying and called Bucky asking why the random girl he brought to a party that one time was stalking him? You glance around the street, half expecting Bucky to be standing behind you and catching you red-handed. He’s not, of course he’s not, you’re just losing your mind a little bit.

“No, no, sorry,” you say, running a shaky hand through your hair. “I’m at work. What’s up?”

“I won’t keep you long,” Bucky says, sounding amused, and you hate how the rough catch of his voice through the phone all but erases the suspicions you have for him, warning you to stay away. You had missed him, is all. He says, as if plucking the thought from your brain, “I was missing you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glad he can’t see the grin you send to the table. “That why you disappeared after the party?”

“Let me explain over drinks?” Bucky asks, dodging your jab with ease. No, no, no, don’t be stupid, he’s bad news and you’ve got the proof, don’t-

“You’re paying,” you say instead, silencing the smart side of your brain.

“Always do,” he says, which is blatantly not true but whatever, “Nine at Joey’s?”

“See you there,” you say, and hang up before you can do anything else stupid.

You bury your hands in your hair, leaning your elbows on the table and letting out a frustrated sound probably inappropriate for a public place. How are you going to go meet Bucky and pretend you aren’t, essentially, investigating his best friend? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you use this to get more answers, full-stop some of the question marks that have been playing havoc with your head all week.

And sex. You’re not going to pretend you won’t be ending up in Bucky’s bed again, shady secrets be damned.

***

Joey’s is a divey, underground bar you absolutely adore, and you’ve met Bucky here multiple times. He introduced you to the place, actually, a week or so into meeting up him. He’d laughed at how excited you were over the movie posters they used as decor behind the booths, the bartender who squeezed fresh apple juice into your shot of Jameson, the dirty bass-heavy music you eventually convinced him to dance with you to. Bucky is clearly trying to win you over by meeting you here, and you can’t say it’s not working. Just a little bit. You’ll still make him work for it.

Bucky’s got a booth at the back when you arrive, two whiskey apple’s already waiting on the table as he stands up to greet you. He pulls you into a hug, not letting you set the tone at all, but you can’t find it in you to mind as you’re crushed into his chest and he rests his stubbly chin atop your head. He smells nice, reminding you of spiced rum or something else warm and comforting, and his hands feel real nice as they dip under your top to press against your bare skin. Had you really missed him this much? You squeeze him tightly, ignoring the thump of your heart as he starts rubbing circles into your back, and you stand there in his arms for far too long to be appropriate.

Pulling away, though, feels like you’ve lost something.

Across the booth from you, now, Bucky slides a drink towards you with his usual cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at him, popping the straw in your mouth and looking out at the bar so you can pretend not to pay attention to him. He bumps your foot under the table but you ignore him, hiding your smirk in the rim of your glass.

“Doll,” he says, exasperated, and reaches across the booth to place his giant hand on the arm you have resting on the table. You look at him then, scrunching your nose up at the pet name which makes him smile. His eyes crinkle up at the sides, all soft and blurry blue, and you feel yourself forgetting why you’re supposed to be mad at him in the first place.

“What,” you say, mimicking his tone just to watch his jaw clench. His frustration is hot, what of it? You love winding him up like this.

“Brat,” he retorts, and oh, that makes you feel something you probably shouldn’t, all low and coiled hot in your belly. “Did you think I was avoiding you?”

“You were avoiding me,” you correct, raising your eyebrows at him. He hasn’t let go of your arm, now taking to rubbing his thumb back and forth across the leather of your jacket. You refuse to let it melt you.

“I was away,” he says, eyes sparkling. He’s practically laughing at you, which is- rude. You huff, barely believing him, and he says, “I was! Did you want me to tell you I was going or something?”

“No,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. You sigh - he’s right, what did you expect? Nothing, and yet you were put out anyway, but that’s a problem you’ve got to deal with on your own. Bucky doesn’t owe you anything and he knows it. You relax, finally, putting your drink down to cover Bucky’s hand with your own. You smile, say, “I’m just messing with you, Bucky.”

“Sure you are,” he says easily, but you know he doesn’t believe you. It’s dropped, then, forgotten as you sit there staring at each other in the dim light of the bar. You really had missed him, even if you still barely knew him. His stubbly jaw, the close-cropped sides of the new haircut he’d gotten since you’d last seen him, the glint of his dog togs against tanned skin disappearing under his t-shirt. The swirl of his chest piece peeking out from the neckline, and you can fill in the blanks because you’ve seen what’s under that t-shirt. You’ve traced your tongue over it, as well as every other inch of him you’re trying to memorise in case another month passed before you saw him again. If you ever saw him at all.

“What?” you ask when you realise he’s starting to smile at you, holding back a laugh. He shakes his head, looking down to pick up his drink and take a sip. You lean back, retracting yourself from his grip and folding your arms across your chest - he’s making fun of you, you know it, but you don’t know why. He does laugh then, also leaning back in his seat and regarding you with that head tilt that infuriates you.

“Nothing,” he laughs, eyes saying the opposite. “It’s just- it’s nice to see you.”

“You going soft on me, tough guy?” you tease, but he sobers at your words, the smile dying on his pillow-plump lips. He stares you down, that deep thing that reminds you how easy it is to get lost in him (if you aren’t already).

“Maybe I am,” he says, and that surprises you. You had been joking, but the heady way he’s looking at you turns it serious. “Would that bother you?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to say the right thing. You don’t even know if that’s a good response or not, but you’ve done it now and Bucky nods, downs his drink, all without ever breaking eye contact with you. You get the distinct feeling you’ve just agreed to something you don’t entirely understand, entangling yourself further into Bucky without even trying to. Given what you’d been uncovering about his friends the past week, you should know better. You should leave.

But you don’t. You lean across the booth, coming to him this time, and peel his hand off his glass to entwine your fingers with his. The cool metal of his signet rings offsets the warmth of his palm against yours, and the way he grips your fingers tightly signs the deal. Bucky is too enticing to stay away from, and you are too tired of trying to.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” you ask, but it’s not really a question. You watch his eyes dart across your face, tongue flicking out over his lips, stalling for time. You wonder what he’ll say. My friends run dodgy business deals out of a tattoo parlour? I’m involved in that, too? I’m dangerous, I’m a liar, you should stay away?

“I’m a mechanic,” he says. You try not to show your disappointment, but still, this is information you didn’t have before and you’re greedy for anything. “I have my own shop in Queens. Natasha helps me out, helps me run it. I’ve been obsessed with cars and bikes and shit since I was five.”

You smile at that, imaging little Bucky running around a car yard trying to convince his dad, or whoever, to teach him how to drive even if he couldn’t reach the pedals yet. You imagine him now, the hand you’re holding all greased up and elbow deep in a car’s guts, maybe with his shirt off and sweat dripping down his back. You’ve got to see that one day before you die, you decide right then. That’s too hot to just stay in your brain.

“Your turn,” he says, shit-eating smirk in place like he can read your mind. You blush, despite yourself, and scramble for something to say that’s not I’ve been investigating your friends all week and it’s not looking too good for them.

“My dad,” you blurt out, and Bucky give you a funny look like he thinks that’s your fact - you have a dad, isn’t that something. You curse yourself for starting this, you could’ve gone with anything and you said ‘my dad’? But you’re here now, so, “He raised me on his own, like, I don’t know my mum at all, but he always said he wanted me to have something of her so he taught me Russian. She taught him, apparently, and he taught her English. Now it’s like our secret language.”

“Russian, hey?” Bucky asks, and he seems far too surprised for the anecdote you’ve just given but you suppose it is the first actually personal thing you’ve told him. He doesn’t seem off-put by it, though, like you have expected him to be because you don’t do personal. In fact he just leans closer, almost unconsciously, baiting you to tell him more.

“Yeah,” you say, compelled to keep going. “We’d leave each other notes around the house in ‘code’, y’know, but it was just in Cyrillic. Thought it was so cool.”

“It is cool,” Bucky says, smirking at you again, “You’re cool.”

“Fuck you,” you laugh, kicking his ankle under the table but immeasurably grateful for the tone change. You don’t know why you’ve just told him that. You don’t know if you’ve ever told anyone that - Russian isn’t exactly a handy language to know. You feel drunker than you should be after a tiny bit of whiskey, high on the rush of unleashing a secret. Drunk enough that Bucky unlatching his fingers from yours to grip your wrist tight, a bit bruising, tugging you close, makes you flush from your scalp to your toes.

Bucky looks at you, dark and heavy, and asks, “Want to?”

You nod, throat suddenly very dry, and Bucky tugs you out of the booth without another word. Usually you wait a bit longer before getting on Bucky’s bike, have a few more drinks, maybe dance a bit if you can coax Bucky into it. Not tonight. You’re both on the same page - it’s been too long and you need his mouth on you about five days ago.

He pushes you into the apartment by the shoulders, rough enough you stumble but you’re quickly righted as he strides through the door after you and grabs you by the hips. Bucky crushes his mouth to yours, swallowing your needy whine with soft lips and velvet tongue as you fist his t-shirt and drag you both backwards, going and going until your back hits a wall. His palm slams into the drywall by your head but you don’t flinch, only groan as he smudges his spit-slick mouth across your jaw and down your neck. Bucky bites down, sharp teeth on soft skin, and you rake your nails down his stomach as payback for the mark you’ll have later.

“Off,” Bucky grumbles as he shoves at your jacket, getting it stuck at your elbows and trapping your arms by your sides. He seems to like like this, eyes flashing something dangerous in the dark of his hallway. You hold his eyes, heart thrumming something wild in your throat at being caught, pinned, vulnerable. With Bucky, though, you like that.

You want to reach for him but you can’t, so you wait for him to come to you. Kissing you breathless, hand fisted in your hair, other undoing the front of your jeans. God, you wanna touch him so bad but Bucky has you in his grip, yanking your head back to kiss that same bruised spot.  He sucks another under your chin as you cry out, pinpricks of pain-turned-pleasure bursting at the base of your scalp.

He gets his hand in your jeans, in your panties, runs two fingers down your cunt so easy with how wet you are already before rubbing bruising, slow circles on your clit. Your whole body jerks against Bucky’s hold on you, his thighs bracketing your body into the wall and his hand still fisted in your hair. Your mouth drops open in a soundless moan and you feel, rather than hear Bucky laugh against your throat. All executive function has diverted to the radiating ache of pure pleasure from Bucky’s fingers on you.

Bucky lets go of you hair only to press his hand on your throat, cold rings digging into your burnt-up skin and pressing you back into the wall. Long fingers tilt your jaw to look at him, increased pressure warning you against looking away, but you don’t want to anyway. Bucky’s eyes are dark like a sea storm, molten blue, and he squeezes his grip just once before saying, “Still think I’ve gone soft?”

Jesus christ, but you can’t answer him like this - not with your pulse thundering against his palm and the way he picks up the pace on your clit, making your thighs shake with the effort of holding yourself up. Bucky grins, boyish and crinkly, and it’s so at odds with the way he slides his two fingers down and pushes into you, twisting to the knuckle, that you think you might be losing your mind. Unravelling, Bucky pulling at the threads, and the only thing holding you together is his hand on your throat.

“Bucky,” you say, his name a broken breath as you start to lose focus. Everything’s hazy, glassy, your toes are going numb and tingly so you know it’s coming, building tight in your stomach as he rubs his fingers back and forth inside of you. At his name Bucky makes a sound almost like a growl, pressing his body against yours and somehow further into the wall. You need that contact,  the press of his muscles holding you up as it gets harder and harder to breath with the heat coiling up inside of you. He presses his forehead against yours so all you can see is blue edged out by black, claiming your every breath and moan, drawing you in deeper and deeper because you’re his, now. There’s no way back from this.

He presses his thumb to your clit, thrusts his fingers deeper into you, mouth parting with yours as you moan as if he means to swallow the sound. You’re there, you’re right there, and then he kisses you so soft you might’ve imagined it and you’re coming, your whole body clenching up and whiting out while he finger fucks you through it.

Trembling muscles come to leant against the wall, barely holding yourself up as Bucky extricates himself and allows you room to breath. He gently tugs your jacket all the way off, freeing your arms to come up sluggish and heavy around his neck, holding on. He laughs, just quietly, letting you nuzzle your way into the side of his neck and breath in that warm honey Bucky smell as you try and regain mental functions. It’s hard. You think Bucky’s just blended up your brain with a swizzle stuck and sucked it out through a straw.

“C’mon,” he says, gravel rough, and nudges his nose against the side of your head. “Not done with you yet.”

“Hmph,” you say, but let yourself be picked up under the ass and wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bedroom. You press a kiss to the skin of his neck you can reach with every second your body comes back online, digging your teeth in a little when he squeezes your ass as he walks. You’re both still fully clothes, basically, but you don’t plan to be for long. You’ve got tattoos to kiss and a dick you want anyway Bucky’ll let you. You’ve got all night, after all.

***

It’s late, you should be going, but you steal a few more minutes lying on Bucky’s chest. He’s sat up against the headboard, trying to braid little pieces of your hair with the cutest look of concentration on his face. The way he goes from dirty to dork always makes your heart do complicated things in your chest. You’re drumming your fingers on his chest, right next to his dog tags, and before you can overthink it too much you pause your drum solo to pick them up.

Bucky doesn’t pause in his hair-braiding but you can feel him watching you as you turn the worn metal over in your fingers. They’re well loved, a bit bent in places and the letters starting to rub flat  but you can still read it. His birthday, March 10th, and his name. You’d never thought to read these before - they always seemed part of Bucky’s past, something you weren’t allowed into yet. But tonight has made you bold, and you run your thumb over the letters of his name so you can memorise the feel of them.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you mumble, words half said into his skin. Bucky hums but doesn’t respond, so you say, “I always knew no mother could look at their newborn child and call it Bucky.”

“Watch it,” Bucky warns, but without any real heat. You don’t ask what the tags mean, which war he fought in, when he got back. You lay them back on his skin carefully, straightening out the chain, before turning in Bucky’s arms to prop your chin on his chest piece and look at him.

“I should go,” you say, as you continue to lie there with legs tangled and Bucky’s hand now resting idle, cupping the back of your head. He bites his lip, strokes his big hand down the back of your hair and making you close your eyes for a second. You’re enjoying his touch too much, you’re getting too close for a man you don’t know. A man who you know has secrets you probably don’t want to uncover, but you can’t stop yourself.

“You could stay.” Bucky’s words hang there, suspended in the space between you. He’s never said that before. You never thought he would say that, ever. Bucky looks at you, face unreadable, and you don’t know why you feel sick to your stomach all of a sudden but you do. There are lines being crossed that you can’t backtrack from. You’re not ready to make that step yet.

“Not tonight,” you say, and it’s not a no but it’s not what Bucky wants to hear. He withdraws his hand from you, letting it drop uselessly to the bed beside him. You take that as your cue to go, rolling off the bed and dressing silently with Bucky’s eyes burning a hole in your skin.

You’re pulling away, trying desperately to regain some distance and control from his man who already has you swallowed whole, he just doesn’t know it yet. Even still, you can’t stop yourself crawling back on the bed and straddling his lap, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him. You want him to remember this - not you saying no, but the way your body will always say yes to him as he holds your hips and keeps you there, kissing you back as desperate as you feel.

But now you know you have reason to climb through the laundry room window that night and sneak away from Bucky’s apartment building, that you’re not just being paranoid because you’ve got photos to prove it. It’s that thought alone that makes it bearable to leave him, even if your heart is begging you to stay.

Part 3

#bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fic #bucky x reader fic #bucky fic #reader insert fic #pov fic #biker!bucky #biker au #biker!bucky au #avengers fic #marvel fic #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #11 hours

[broadstbroskis]

five times you shared a bed with your best friend plus one time you didn’t | matthew tkachuk

lol so @slimskjei-dy requested the prompt 16. We’ve been sharing a bed since we were little so why is this weird now? from a list i put out a couple days ago to write blurbs for and this spiraled out of control, so here’s nearly 4k.

one

The Tkachuk’s move into the house next door to your family the summer before you start preschool and at the ripe age of three, you are too young to have any idea what going with your mom to drop off “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies is going to mean for your future.

Really, it likely has more to do with the fact that “welcome to the neighborhood” brownies turned into a glass of “welcome to the neighborhood” wine between your mom and Chantal Tkachuk, which turned into a bottle of wine while you and Matthew played in the backyard with Brady’s chubby little baby legs trying his hardest to keep up. 

By the time Keith arrived home from a midday skate session, with your dad awkwardly following behind, babbling about how your mom had just planned on dropping something off quickly but was still missing, their friendship was basically cemented. Chantal and your mom did everything together. And your dads’ friendship didn’t take long to form after that. 

Which meant you and Matty were right there with them.

But neither of you cared. You’d settled quickly into a friendship, just like your parents had, where you’d play hockey with him and he’d begrudgingly play soccer with you, and you both pretended you had no idea what Brady was talking about when he ran to tattle that you were ganging up on him and not letting him play.

There’s countless pictures of the two of you growing up, getting into all kinds of trouble, but then also, of the quieter moments too. Sitting too close to the TV watching movies, eagerly waiting by the door for Keith to come home from a road trip with souvenirs, the naps curled up around each other in one of your beds. 

“The quietest twenty minutes of the day.” Keith continues to joke, anytime one of those pictures resurfaces.

two

You wince at the sound of glass crashing behind you and decide the best course of action is to keep moving forward with your mission to find Matthew. Whichever hockey bro of Matthew’s house this is can take care of that; it’s not your job.

Besides, the room is spinning from the cheap beer and booze you’d been drinking all night since the two of you arrived at this party, and you’re pretty sure it’s a bad idea to go near glass.

You find Matthew in the kitchen, with a few of his St. Louis hockey bros, a couple of them guys that you’re still friends with even after he’d left to go join the NTDP, as well as a few faces you don’t recognize. You slip up into their circle, sliding under Matty’s arm when it lifts to wrap around your shoulders, grateful for the solid body to lean against.

The room is really starting to spin.

“You okay?” He asks, ignoring whoever’s speaking.

“I don’t think I can go home tonight.” You admit.

He laughs. “Text your mom and tell her you’re staying with me. Big Walt and Chantal are at a tourney with Brady and Taryn; nobody’s home.”

“You don’t think she knows your parents aren’t home?” You scoff, but you’re already pulling out your phone and carefully drafting the text, making sure to avoid any spelling errors that might give your drunkenness away.

“Yeah, but she can’t prove what she hasn’t seen.” Matty winks at you and you roll your eyes.

“Is that what you told your mom after you left her a three minute voicemail at 3am last month?” You chirp at him, smiling at the instant laughter from the friends around you and accepting a fist bump from Luke Kunin.

That line of chirping continues for a few minutes, until Matty manages to turn it around on one of the boys, and then it dissolves into a free for all before they’re all just laughing at each other.

By the time the giggling ends, you’re about three seconds away from falling asleep on Matt’s shoulder, and it’s his nudge that wakes you. “You ready?” You nod, joining him in making goodbyes to your friends, and then following him out the door to begin the walk back toward your houses.

The fresh air does some good to sober you up and you feel marginally less dizzy by the time you and Matt make it to his room. He throws you a t-shirt to change into and you fall into bed after changing, waiting for him to join you, eyes shutting the second you feel the bed settle beside you.

three

The night before Matty’s due to leave for Buffalo for the draft, your phone buzzes with a text from him. You’re expecting more of the same that you’ve been exchanging all day with him-in various group chats with your friends, at a barbeque with both your families, when the two of you were chatting with Brady while you hid in the far corner with the beers you snuck while Taryn and your sister were off doing their thing.

It’s not. Let me in the text says, so you shove the blankets down and make your way downstairs to open the door for him.

“Shh.” You tell him. “They’re all asleep.”

“It’s 3am, of course they are!” He whispers back.

“Well so was I until you woke me up!” You start walking back toward your room, knowing he’ll follow.

Matthew doesn’t speak again until the two of you are in your room, the door is closed, and he’s lying on his side to face you in your bed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You can’t possibly be nervous.” You whisper back, knowing he’s talking about the draft. He shrugs and you reach your hand out to shove his shoulder down, allowing it to rest there. “Matty.” He blinks at you a few times as you think of what to say next. “You’re gonna go somewhere and you’re going to be great. One of these teams is going to love you enough to draft you and everyone after them is going to be mad they didn’t have the chance to and almost everyone before them is going to be mad they didn’t end up picking you and you’re going to go off to whatever city does and forget all about me back here.”

Matthew wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him so you move your hand from the top of his shoulder around to rub at the blade gently. “First of all, that’ll never happen. You’re stuck with me forever.”

You nod seriously. “Somebody’s got to put up with you.”

He pokes you in the side for that one and you have to bite your lip to keep in the squeal of laughter. “Second of all, almost? Almost everyone is going to me mad they didn’t pick me?”

“Leafs got first pick to get Auston! I just don’t think they’re going to regret that!” He pokes you again and you don’t manage to hide the squeal this time. “Matty! Everyone’s sleeping!”

“You should be nicer to me.” He tells you, once you settle down.

“I should be nicer to you? You wake me up at 3am to talk you off the ledge and I should be nicer to you?”

He nods, pulling you even closer to bury his face in your hair. “Always.”

You laugh, the sound muffled into his chest now. “Are we all good now?”

“Hmm?” He says, sounding sleepy already.

“Never mind.” You tell him, rubbing his back again. “Good night, Matty.”

“G’night.”

four

Calgary is a thousand times more incredible than you’d ever imagined. You’d been teasing Matty about being stuck in a frozen wasteland, sending him snaps from sunny gamedays at Mizzou and laughing anytime you get one in return with snow in the picture.

There’s snow on the ground when you arrive in December, fresh out of finals, and still feeling both the mental exhaustion from your exams and the hangover from a day of binge drinking with your friends immediately after they’d ended. You’ll never fly hungover again; the next time you do this, you’ll leave yourself a day of rest between exams and flying up to visit your best friend, since you know you won’t stop drinking earlier.

College is making you smarter already!

Matthew actually laughs when he meets you in the pick up lane, like puts his head on the steering wheel and has to hold off on driving. He gets honked at by the car behind him. “Your laugh is making my headache worse.” You whine.

“So I take it you don’t want the bottle of wine I bought for us to split tonight?”

You look over at him suspiciously. “What kind of wine?”

He laughs again, but softer this time. “Atta girl.”

It’s a red blend, a favorite of the two of you, but a much nicer one than you’ve ever bought before. You let out a low whistle as Matthew places the order for dinner. “Suddenly you’ve got some cash flow and Barefoot’s too good?”

“Hell yeah! Wait until you see what kind of vodka I got for us for Saturday.”

You perk up. “What’s on Saturday?”

“Party with the team before my parents come in.”

You laugh, accepting the glass of wine he pours for you. “You don’t think Big Walt would want to come to the party?”

Matty gives you a look. “I know that’s exactly what would happen and that’s why I told them to come Sunday.”

“Smart thinking.” You admit.

“See, who needs college?” He teases, which settles the two of you into your familiar teasing and banter while you wait for the food to arrive. 

It isn’t too long after dinner and Netflix that you and Matthew are heading to bed, pressing yourself as close as you can to suck up as much warmth that he’s radiating. “Fuck, your feet are cold.” Matty mutters as you giggle and press your toes into his calf.

“Haven’t you missed me?” You sling your leg over his for maximal toe digging, laughing when he jumps.

“I guess.” He says, but his tone says Absolutely.

five

“So what are your plans for after graduation?”Ashley, Sean Monahan’s girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancee if Matty was to be believed) looks at you during a stoppage of play late in the third.

“God, don’t remind me.” You groan. You’d wrapped the fall semester of your senior year a couple days ago and then taken off to Calgary in what had become your annual post-finals trip. It’d be the last one you ever took, with your final semester of college looming over your head. 

Ashley grins. She’d become a close friend of yours over all your trips to visit Matthew, even flying down to St. Louis last season when the Flames were in town and spending a weekend with some of the other girls visiting you at school afterwards. “Just come hang out up here forever.”

You burst into laughter. “And live where?”

She gives you a look, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “With Matt?”

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” It takes a full minute for you to recover. Play has resumed, there’s a minor scrum on the ice in front of the two of you but you barely even notice, too shocked by Ashley’s words.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because why would I ever?”

“Because you already do.” She says, with more patience than you’ve possessed in your entire life combined, and then laughs at the look on your face. “YN, what you two have is so special! To fall in love with your best friend at age three and still feel that way is amazing! If Sean and I can look at each the way you and Matt do after twenty years, we could only be so lucky.”

“We’re not in love.” You deny. “Matty and I-we’re just-we’re not.”

Ashley bites her lip, but doesn’t push it any further. “Alright.” She agrees, and thankfully, the game ends there, so you’re able to just gather your things with her and make your way down toward the family room to meet the boys.

But you can’t get her words out of your head as you and Matthew arrive back to his place and start getting ready to go to bed. You move around each other with a practiced ease, handing him the toothpaste before he even asks for it and accepting the oversized sweatshirt he passes to you, somehow knowing that you’re extra chilly tonight. 

Lying next to him in bed, the same way you have for nearly twenty years, suddenly feels suffocating. You roll onto your side, hoping for some room to breath, but now it just feels awkward; this isn’t how you sleep.

You sit up, ditching the sweatshirt. Maybe you’re just too warm. Lying back and pulling the covers back up does nothing to solve that problem, and actually, you’re shivering, so you sit back up and yank the sweatshirt back on.

“Could you settle down?” Matty mumbles, pulling you into his side the second that you’re flat again. His arm rests on your waist, thumb in the dip of your hip, a position it’s been in many times, but suddenly you think you’re having trouble breathing. You open your mouth to tell him this, but he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Relax, just sleep.”

You don’t sleep a wink the entire night.

plus one

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Dylan, a good friend of both yours and Matthew’s, is usually one of the most upbeat people you know, so the sound of disappointment coming throughout your phone actually makes you wince. “YN?”

“I just-” You hesitate. You’d have to leave right now in order to get to St. Louis in time to make the Skills Competitions, and even then you might be pushing it, and things were still weird for you with Matty, as evidenced by how things were between the two of you when he came home for his short Christmas break. And things were weird. Everyone noticed- your families, your friends, Matthew. The two of you had spoken only once since, in the group chat where Matthew had texted an invite to your group chat to come home for the weekend for the All Star Weekend and you’d noncommittally responded wow that’d be awesome. “I’m super busy.” You finish lamely.

Dylan sighs. “Look, YN, I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you and Matt and I don’t really care. It’s not my business. But I know he’d really want you there no matter what’s going on and I know you’ll regret not going if you don’t.”

You close your eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. He’s right. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Dyl.”

“Hell yeah,” Dylan cheers.

By the time you make it to St. Louis, you have to race to meet your friends in your seats and the cheer they send up is poorly timed, but it does make you smile. “Shitty seats.” You accept the bottle of Bud Light someone passes you.

Dylan laughs and points up to the giant platform next to you guys. “He’s going to be shooting from there in a while.”

“Alright.” You nod. “I guess this is acceptable then.”

It’s a good while before Matty and the rest of the guys participating in the Shooting Stars event start making their way up, but it’s nice to catch up with your other friends while you wait. If you got a big cheer when you rolled in, the one that goes up when Matthew walks by is deafening (and boostered by the friends of Brady’s that are sitting right behind you guys). The two of them look over at you guys, grinning already, and you see it in Matthew’s face when he spots you, the smirk softening a little and his eyes locking on you.

You’d read about moments where time stands still but it’d never actually happened to you until now. It’s like the crowd doesn’t exist around you, like you don’t actually need to breathe. The only thing that matters is the moment in time when your eyes meet Matty’s. 

And that moment’s broken by Brady shoving him forward. 

As you watch Matthew throughout the entirety of the last event, you know you’re screwed. You’ll get through this weekend, go back to school, and get over these thoughts by the time summer comes. Everything will be back to normal by the time you see Matty again.

In the meantime, you do your best to avoid him once the Skills Competition ends and you join everyone at the after party on the rooftop bar of the hotel. It’s easier than you think it would be to do. When Matty’s talking with some of your local friends, you find yourself catching up with both sets of your parents. When he starts making his way toward your parents, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. You see him make a beeline towards the bar, so you dart off in the opposite direction, where Brady is talking with a couple of his Atlantic Division teammates and push yourself in between the height of him and Auston Matthews, which seems like a safe spot to hide.

“YN!” Auston grins, throwing his hands up in the air, in a drunken greeting that you’d love to be more lowkey.

You reach up and grab them, yanking them down. “Listen, I know it’s been a while since we’ve last hung out and all, and I know from the way you talk and dress and everything about you that this is a hard thing for you to comprehend, but I’m really going to need some subtlety from you.” Next to him, Mitch and Freddie burst into laughter. “Down low, boo. Down low.”

Auston is laughing as well and you remember that while the times you’ve spent with him have been few and far between, unable to visit Matthew as frequently during his time with the NTDP as you have been in Calgary, they’ve certainly been memorable...so moments like this are unshocking to him, to say the least.

They don’t even faze Brady, who’d grown up with both you and Matthew, and is merely looking at you with an entirely too familiar smirk and a raised brow. “What’s the subtlety for, YN?”

“Fuck off, Brady.” You flip your middle finger up at him quickly but it’s just enough time for the entire group of hockey players around you to pounce. You really should have known better.

“I knew something was up!” Auston grins.

“Nothing’s up.” You deny, very poorly.

“Really?” Brady grins. “‘Cause Matt’s like right there.” He points. “On his way here. So I guess if nothing’s wrong, you can-” He starts immediately laughing when you shove your way out of them.

You think you manage to lose your best friend by pushing through a large group of players and family from the Metro and Central divisions and throwing yourself out the door to the outdoor patio, which is mostly empty, despite the unseasonably warm winter St. Louis has been experiencing. You can see Brady, Auston, and Quinn laughing together through the glass door, but Matty’s nowhere to be found, and you sit down on the closest bench, taking a minute to just breathe.

“You gotta tell me what I did.” The voice scares you, but it shouldn’t, because you really should have known better than to think that Matty wouldn’t be able to find you.

When you look over at Matty on the bench beside you, you can’t think of another time he’s looked this devastated. Maybe that semi-final loss in World Juniors? Maybe? It’s all over his face and you can’t just leave him like this any longer. “It’s not you.” You tell him, holding back tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!” Matthew says, frustratedly.

“You can’t fix it!” You sniffle, trying to scoot away from him, to give yourself some distance, and feeling the tears start to fall when he closes that space again. “You can’t go back and stop Ashley from making me realize that I’m in love with you, okay? So you can’t fix this and I just-I need some time, Matty! Okay? I need some time!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He breathes, like he’s only just recovered the ability to talk, which, he might have, and you tilt your head to meet his eyes, which puts you in a perfect position considering he’s already leaning toward you.

Matthew fumbles for a second, his hand reaching for your cheek and catching your ear instead with you turning, but he recovers quickly, stroking gently down the side of your face. You gasp, the kiss entirely unexpected, and Matty takes the opportunity to tug on your lip gently before pulling away and you let out a whimper at the loss of contact.

He smirks.

“Don’t be smug.” You shove at his shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.” He repeats, pulling you closer. “How could you ever think I wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“I didn’t want to ruin us.” You tell him softly. “But I am willing to concede I was wrong.”

Matty grins. “Sure were. Can do this anytime I want now.” He kisses you again, leaving you just as breathless as before.

You suppose, at some point, that’ll start to wear off, but as the two of you trade lazy kisses on the rooftop, you can’t imagine that point ever coming. This is perfection, this is the piece of your relationship you didn’t even know was missing coming together, this is-

-Brady knocking on the window?

What?

You blink again, realizing where you’re at. Still on the rooftop bench, with your arm wrapped around Matty’s neck, your legs draped over his lap, and your face tucked into his shoulder. Matthew’s arms are wrapped around your waist, holding you close, and his head rests on top of yours. Somehow still asleep through all the banging Brady’s been doing. 

“Matty.” You poke him awake.

“What?” He groans, sitting up.

“Brady.” Matthew looks over at the window, where Brady is still gesturing that it’s time to leave, with a very smug grin on his face.  Matthew lifts one hand off your waist to flip his brother off, allowing you to climb off. 

“You couldn’t have answered any of the texts we sent you?” Brady asks, once you step inside, but he doesn’t sound annoyed at all, still looking between the two of you with the biggest grin on his face.

Matthew shrugs. “Must have fallen asleep.”

“Bullshit.”

“You just saw us!”

Brady rolls his eyes, knowingly. “Just kiss her already.”

Matty grins. “Gladly.” And then he’s pressing a heated kiss against your lips, looping his arm around your waist, and it’s all you can do to grip his arm with one hand to keep yourself standing and flip off the crowd around you with your other as whoever’s left at this after party burst into applause and wolf-whistles.

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk fanfic #matthew tkachuk fanction #hockey imagines #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey fanfic #my hockey fics

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Could you do headcanons for yandere Jon Kent (platonic)? I love your writing!

Yandere Platonic!Jon Kent  

Thank you! I hope this is what you were looking for. I got a little too carried away writing this one. 

-Anxious 💚

You guys probably meet at school, sharing the same class. And maybe you’re assigned the seat next to him. He’ll probably befriend you from that day on. He’s pretty sociable so it’s no surprise that you’d get along pretty fast. The two of you being the best of friends right away. 

He’ll always make you laugh no matter the situation. There’s not a day that goes by that the teacher hasn’t threatened to move the two of you away from each other. The two of you would be quiet for a while but then the jokes, funny facial expressions, and laughing would pick up again. 

He’ll often invite you over to his house to study and hangout.He’s pretty smart, especially with math. It’s been noted he can solve math equations pretty fast, being able to think them through before anyone has the chance to. So, he’ll definitely help you with class assignments and homework. 

He likes spending time with you because you’re his best friend outside of being  hero (not that he would ever admit that Damian was his friend too). There’s not way you wouldn’t meet Damian and Bruce. They are always around, at least Damian more so than Bruce. You’d probably strike up an acquaintanceship of sorts. Like you’re not necessarily friends but it’s not like he doesn’t like you either. You both are pretty friendly with each other, you more than him , but he doesn’t mind you. He’d probably make an off hand comment, complimenting Jon’s taste in friends, specifically you. 

You’re probably the only friend he has at school and outside of being a hero. His family loves you and the sense of normalcy you give Jon. You’re genuinely a good presence all around. You give him the feeling of an average life, and he likes that. He won’t really understand it until the two of you are much older, then it hits him as to why he is so taken with you. You’re nothing like him and his family which makes him feel like he doesn’t have to prove himself or worry about not being a good enough SuperSon.

Don’t get him wrong though. He wants to tell all about the hero stuff. He wants to be able to tell you about his time helping save the day, or about what happened on patrol the night before, or how he an Damian kicked some criminal ass. Just stuff like that. His family is very adamant that he doesn’t tell you anything and that you stay in the dark about the hero stuff. 

And he will, but he plans for you to find out on your own. He will say things here and there, making off hand comments or referencing things that have happened on patrol, and the like.

“Oh look Y/n! I always wear red and blue and super boy wears red and blue. Isn’t that weird, haha? It’s like we’re the same person.”

You two are pretty young though so most of it will fly right over your head. But when you do catch on and confront him, he’ll be so happy and relieved. Like it’s about time you found out, now he can tell you all about his day outside of school. His family won’t be too, happy about you knowing, wanting to protect you from all the danger that they have to deal with, but they can’t say that they aren’t relieved. Now they’re able to be themselves completely, not having to hide anything. 

Krypto can fly around as much as he pleases now, Jon can show off his cool abilities, Connor and Clark con openly use their strength, and Kara can finally speed around the house and what not. Lois will even let you in on her newest story regarding the newest attacks, criminals, villains, and what not. Not that she didn’t do that before, bit now she is more open about it. No one has to keep themselves under wraps while you are around anymore.

And you’re around a lot! You may as well live at the Kent house. Louis has even jokingly offered you to move in, which made Jon ecstatic. You guys would be able to spend every day together, 24/7. But when he found out she wasn’t serious, he was pouty for the rest of the day, leaving you to cheer him up.

Even though you basically live at the Kent house, that doesn’t mean he’s not at your house just as much. Your parents absolutely love Jon. They think the world of him, just as the Kent think of you. So he is always welcome to your home. Jon will use that as his excuse to pop up at your window at an ungodly hour at night while he is on patrol. Checking in on you making sure you are safe and sound. 

Jon has really taken to listening to your heartbeat, especially when you have sleepovers. It really helps ease him when his thoughts start wandering to you getting into danger or getting hurt. He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if anything ever happened to you, especially if it was because of him or his family. whether it was because you know about them being heroes or it was because he had hurt you himself.

He would hate himself if he ever hurt you. He’s still young and figuring out his own strength and abilities. He wants to show off for you, show you how cool he is. So it’s only a matter of time before you get hurt.

He’s also still trying to keep his emotions in check. He can be pretty emotional, he’s still a kid so it’s understandable, but that spells out trouble with his powers. If he ever finds out or hears, or god forbid sees you get hurt, he’ll fucking lose it. You’re the most important person to him, and if you got hurt, he wouldn’t let that person live. It would take Clark, Connor, or Kara to stop him. He’d take out anyone in his was just to get to you. 

The more he gets into his protective and possessive state of mind, Jon would become increasingly more hostile about anything having to do with you. He’ll still be your loving, goofy, anime obsessed friend, but he’ll be more aggressive towards outsiders, whether it’s passively or not. He’d also be paranoid of other people outside of you and your friendship.

Even your parents and friends you’ve made outside of him, he’s become weary of. What if your parents want you to not be friends with him? What if they want you to stop talking to him? What if your new friends are trying to replace him? Oh, he’d be pissed.

He doesn’t want you to leave him. You said the two of you would be friends forever. No matter what. You wouldn’t leave him, right? You wouldn’t abandon him, would you? Even if others were telling you to, you wouldn’t right? 

He’d think back to when his mom joked about you moving in, if something happened to your parents then you’d be able to stay with them. There’s no way his parents would just let you go into the system or anything like that. But if you end up staying with other relatives, he’d be even more upset. What if they take you out of Metropolis? What if they take you somewhere far, far away from him? Well, it’d be a shame if something happened to them too. And anyone else who decides to take you in, other than his family. 

When you do end up living with them, Jon couldn’t be happier. You’re with him, by his side all the time. He doesn’t have to worry about you being hurt or in danger because you’re right there, next to him. Safe with him and his family. 

At school things are pretty much the same as the two of you get older. You and Jon are as thick as thieves. You don’t even really notice Jon’s obsessive behavior, or his protectiveness and possessiveness. And you don’t take notice of all the people purposely staying away from you and Jon. How it’s only you and him sitting at one of the cafeteria tables, alone. Everyone else is as far as they can be from the two of you, but you don’t notice, only focusing on Jon. At least, he wants you to only focus on him. He doesn’t want you to see how you’re the only two in the courtyard, or how no one else will want to be your partner for projects, and how your other friends have been avoiding you. He’s glad they’re finally out of the picture, anyway. 

Jon will even scare off any love interests. He’ll even pretend to be your boyfriend just to ensure no one else gets to have any of your time. He’s grown pretty dependent on you and having your constant attention on him. He wouldn’t know what to do without you or it. 

If you ever bring up spending less time with him, or talk about hanging out with other people, even if it’s jokingly, Jon would freak out. I mean it’s not like you can get away from him, you’re living with him, but that doesn’t mean that Jon would let up on his possessive behavior. He doesn’t want anyone else near you let alone taking up your time and attention. 

As stated before, you two are often sitting together in class, always by each other. And the teacher would always threaten to separate you two. Well one of your teachers later on in your school years, actually did, one of you on either side of the classroom. Jon was not happy at all and it didn’t go unnoticed. As the months went on with you two apart, only for this one class, the teacher took notice of the glares and dark looks directed to her from Jon. Talking to his parents about it, they just brushed it off saying how he’s just hurt that you and him aren’t sitting by each other. 

After hearing that, the teacher started paying closer attention to the two of you and how close you were. Over time, she became increasingly uneasy about your’s and Jon’s friendship. Picking up on the unhealthy red flags right away. She also tried bringing this up to the Kent’s but they again just brushed it off, saying that’s just how the two of you are with each other. Always chalking it up to, “That’s just Jonathan.” 

She didn’t like hearing that, so she continued to desperately try to keep the two of you away from each other. Or more like keeping Jon away from you. You were none the wiser but Jon, he was enraged. He didn’t like this teacher what so ever. She was getting in the way of something she didn’t understand. How could she? You and Jon were soulmates but not in a romantic way. You’re best friends and best friends can be soulmates, like you and him. 

Jon had finally had enough of this teacher and her meddling, and so he was going to get rid of her once and for all. 

While out on patrol he made his way to her home, having already followed her before, planning what was about to happen for a while. Jon wanted to freak her out, get her all stressed and paranoid, maker her have a reason to be scared. He wants to hear her heart jump out of her chest, hear the adrenaline rushing through her veins, and he wanted to hear the fear in her voice and see it in her eyes. He wanted to scare her to death. 

He goes about making noises, breaking things. Causing the woman to get startled, jumping out of bed, quietly sneaking around to see what or who was in her home. He can already hear her heart racing and pumping adrenaline through out her body. After a few more agonizing minutes for the teacher, but amusing minutes for Jon, he finally gave her one last scare. Grabbing her he takes her out of her home, up high into the sky, where no one can see them.

“You should have stayed out of mine and Y/n’s business. Now you’ll have to pay.” 

When he’s high enough, he let’s go of her. Hearing her fearful scream and her heart racing so fast, he knew she was having a heart attack. Before she could hit the ground, Jon grabbed her and flew her back to her home. She was already dead, so he carried her back up to her room, and put her back in her bed.  

Getting home, Jon comes in through your guys’ shared room’s window, changing his clothes, Jon got into his bed across from yours. Looking at your peaceful, sleeping face, Jon is able to go to sleep himself, smiling knowing that things will be back to normal starting tomorrow.  

#yandere jon kent #yandere jonathan kent #yandere superboy #yandere dc comics #yandere supersons #jon kent #jon kent imagine #yandere imagine #yandere headcanons #yandere superman

[welcome-to-afterlife]

do you still write? if so please write something for ell🥺👉🏻👈🏻 maybe a confession or something just really fluffy, i want flustered ell

Hey, im gonna try something different here- a letter. I’m so sorry because I’m pretty sure this isn’t fluffy, but I can’t pull myself to write normally! I tried my best to keep it happy as possible, but the shutdown just makes everything 10x harder. **Note: ik the manager is from the Otherworld, but I’m writing this for the people that want to hear from Ell one last time (and u all live in the human world lol).

———————————

Many Years Later: A Letter From Ell

Dear Manager,

Ahhh, I’m not sure what to say. There’s so much that I want to tell you, but I don’t think there’s enough space on this paper. Well, I’ll start with what I can-- we miss you. I’m not sure how long it's been in the human world, but several years have passed here in the 14th Department. Many of us have grown closer to achieving our goals, but no one has made it to the other side yet. To be honest, none of us are sure what to expect. Nyang Lead Manager won’t tell us whether we’ll be reincarnated or send back to our original life, but Housemaster Sei gave me a few hints (so I think we’ll be sent to our original lives)! 

Sometimes, I think about what I’m going to do after I fill up my kaleidoscope. It’s a little silly, but I think about the next we meet. Although Quincy says I’ll always be small and childish, I imagine myself as a strong and handsome angel that will sweep you off your feet. You’ll be so impressed and maybe your heart will flutter just as fast as mine did when you used to walk into my room. But that is your type, right Manager? I’m not too sure since I never got to ask you about it-- it’s one of the things I regret. Although everyone yells at me for hogging you during your time at the 14th Department, I always felt like it wasn’t enough. There were so many questions I didn’t ask, stories I didn’t hear, and words that I never said. But my biggest regret is that I never told you how I truly felt about you. 

Oh no, this is getting too sad isn’t it? I think so since I’m sneezing a lot (sorry if my writing looks messy, my eyes are watering from all the sneezing and it’s getting harder to see). Anyway, let’s go back to all the positive things because there a lot of them. First, I’m no longer that small boy that you remember. My hair is a little longer and I think I’ve actually grown an inch. I was super surprised because I didn’t think I would grow after I’m dead, but I guess I was wrong the whole time! Noah also says that I’ve matured and have grown more confident as the Class Leader. I don’t think that’s true, but I really appreciate his kind words! Also, the 14th Department has been doing a great job at purifying souls thanks to everything you’ve taught us! We aren’t the worst department anymore (that’s the 10th Department now) and people respect us a little more. 

As for the others, not a lot has changed. Nyang Lead Manager is still demanding, but we’ve learned a secret: give him a platter of assorted ancient fish and he’ll stop yelling at you! While it doesn’t always work, Mori claims it has a 98% success rate-- so I always buy his fish. Ghilley laughs at me because he thinks Mori is tricking me, but Licht has been helping me make these fish platters to keep the Nyang Lead Manager happy. Sometimes Jamie decorates our plates with cute little tangerine and strawberry slices. While the combination is a little weird, it looks like something from a fancy restaurant!

I think Housemaster Sei is a little stressed since he acts sort of like a manager now. He seems to pick on Louis and Cyrille for having the lowest purification rates, but it always ends with Ethan and Sian making fun of them (and then insulting each other). Then June jumps in the prove his manliness, which inspires Ataichi to challenge Kirr to a battle to see the better warrior. Kati ends up biting random people while Verine crawls under his table for protection. It doesn’t stop until Housemaster Sei threatens everyone with eternal punishment, but I enjoy the lively energy.

But things aren’t always smooth. Whenever we have problems, I always ask Youssef. He always tells me that I’m doing great on my own, but I think he’s just saying that because he’s nice. He’s so smart and I really appreciate his advice. But do you want to know the truth, Manager? I don’t admire him the way that I used to before. I think it’s because I miss you more and it's all I can think about when I go to him for help. I wish I could ask you instead, but I can’t. I miss all the times where you had the answers for me with a big smile on your face because it made me super happy too. It gave me hope that I could be the Class Leader that you always wanted me to be.

Sorry Manager, but I think I’m going to have to end it here. I’m running out of space on this paper and Nyang Lead Manager is only letting me use one paper. But I’d like to say one last thing: wherever you are, just know that I’ll be watching from afar. As your guardian angel, I promise I won’t let harm get in your way. So live the rest of year days with the brightest smile on your face because that will make me happy too. Lastly please wait for me, so that one day I tell you in person just how much I love you.

With lots of love,

Ell

#afterl!fe #afterlife #afterl1fe #afterl!fe ell #after l!fe #afterlife game #afterlife ell #afterl!fe headcanons

[justletmedomyou]

short ones

some rec that no one asked for

Buried Like Treasure by QuickedWeen

Words: 8k

Prince Harry Styles is very private. He chooses to keep himself out of the public eye but feels lonely and isolated while surrounded by people in his hectic royal life. When he finishes his dissertation, he decides to take a solo holiday to one of the royal family's properties in the Swiss Alps.

Semi-retired thief Louis Tomlinson has been pulled in for one last job: steal a painting from an uninhabited mansion. Neither one of them expects a natural disaster.

Works like a charm by falsegoodnight

Words: 18k

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

The devil’s in the details by raspberryoats

Words: 25k

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

or the one where harry’s on his way to becoming a professor and louis is the smart, bratty student

At your fingertips by falsegoodnight

Words: 27k

He finds himself wrapped up in sheets in bed on Thursday night, staring at the familiar name on a new story that was posted the night before.

His fingers twitch, ready to hit play and surrender to his impulses, saving the regret and turmoil for later.

And still he hesitates, internally praying that he’ll somehow gain the strength to exit out within the next few moments before he inevitably loses his patience and hits the button.

Three…

Two…

One.

Play.

-

Or, Louis really should have seen it coming.

Sweet like honey by falsegoodnight

Words: 33k

Weeks of flat shopping with their limited budget with Louis as a librarian aid and Harry as a barista and arguments about whether a balcony or extended bathroom suite were more important (Harry wanted to be able to feel the crisp night’s air and watch the sun set and Louis just wanted to take long bubble baths) led to them stumbling across the perfect fit. A small flat only ten minutes from campus with a cramped but lovely balcony and an included bath.

It’s affordable too… well, sort of. But they always manage. Louis picks up more shifts as an aid, adapting a habit of bringing his Psych textbooks and homework with him to finish in between duties, and later his script so he can quietly practice lines with little distraction.

Harry also increases his number of shifts at the cafe and valiantly endures the nasty customers who for some reason flock to their establishment like moths to a flame.

For a while, it’s enough.

-

Or, Harry and Louis need money and they find an unconventional solution in the form of PornHub. It’s not supposed to be a big deal.

Haven by xxPayne

Words: 35k

“I take it you’re not a new student?” “What?” Harry mumbles, caught up in the way his eyes are quite literally sparkling in the light. “Oh—No. Not a student.” “Are you a sub?” Louis asks. Harry clenches his hands into fists, holding them behind his back as he stumbles a bit. “I don’t, uh—I mean. I’ve never really gotten a chance to be a true sub, you know? My ex-partners were always scared they’d hurt me. But, like—If I trusted someone a lot, and if we used a, a safeword. And talked about, you know, boundaries, then—Yes, yeah, I-I’m a sub.” Louis’ eyes are so wide, his cheeks puffing out in the effort to not burst into laughter. “Oh shit, oh my god,” Harry whispers. “You meant—Oh god.

Reduce Me To A Pleading Cry (Break The Skin and Tantalize) by taggiecb

Words: 37k

Or Harry is a broody submissive boss, Louis is a natural dom who works in the mail room at Styles & Styles, Niall is a matchmaking oracle, and a slender, dark haired man stands mute at the coffee stand encouraging others to spill their secrets.

The Pirate and The Piper by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 38k

Banished from Neverland by Captain Hook and the evil Siren Minerva, Louis is forced to live in the Other World. He makes a life for himself, resigned to the fact he’s never going to see his beloved home and Lost Boys again. Five years later he’s kidnapped and returned to Neverland, only to discover a far worse fate awaits him. But with an unlikely ally by his side, can he overcome those who seek his demise and restore freedom to his homeland?

Or the one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

Before we knew by falsegoodnight

Words: 39k

“C’mon Lou,” says Zayn after a moment, He sounds even more exasperated than before. Louis sort of has a knack for exasperating people, especially people like Zayn who aren’t usually bothered by his brattiness. “Can’t you give this guy a chance? Harry Styles? Aren’t you curious about him at all?”

Despite his best efforts, Louis still flinches at the name. He really shouldn’t be so affected after all these years. He’s seen the name printed down the curve of his waist in obnoxiously and uncommonly large loopy letters every single day since his sixteenth birthday eight years ago. He’s very familiar with the name Harry Styles.

It sounds pretentious and Louis hates it.

He hates everything about his supposed soulmate.

He hates his large handwriting that stands out like a claim on his skin whenever he’s walking around shirtless. He hates his pretentious name. And now he hates his supposed curls and green eyes and dimples.

-

Or Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

Bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight​

Words: 40k

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

Things have gotten closer to the sun by starsea

Words: 49k

it’s strange, making the choice to face his past—it almost feels like he’s heading for the sun straight on, like he’s screaming come on and burn me, i deserve it.

-

when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

Just a flicker in the dark by falsegoodnight

Words: 57k

Harry Styles is his case partner. High and mighty, annoyingly smug Harry Styles who’s known him for years and has fucking seen him naked for fuck’s sake.

He glances at Venus who’s blinking up at him with curious eyes, no doubt sensing the agitation sparking in his magic.

“This is not happening,” Louis says loudly. “This is not fucking happening. I am going to kill Liam, oh my god.” He doesn’t even know if Liam is responsible for this but it feels like something he’d do to drive Louis absolutely insane - exes don’t just show up to your assigned haunted house out of nowhere. “Fucking fuck!”

He nearly jumps when Harry knocks again, his muffled voice carrying through the wood. “I can hear you, you know,” he drawls, sounding frustratingly amused.

Louis exhales, resisting the urge to scream.

-

Or, Louis is a struggling witch desperate to prove himself after yet another magic disaster and finds a calling in the haunted house of client Niall Horan. Things get more complicated when he’s assigned a case partner: acclaimed medium and ex-boyfriend, Harry Styles.

Like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

#ao3 #fanfiction #fanfics #fic rec #short

[cockasinthebird]

“I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.” -William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 3 Scene 5

Brown and blue both stare up at the many a love declarations on the underside of the bleachers of Hawkins High. Football practice has begun, along with their ever so faithful cheerleaders, and while Robin was here just for how short those skirts went, Steve was here for both those legs, and the sweaty muscles of the blonde haired quarter back; how he shone like diamonds underneath the ruthless summer sky.

Robin hands him the roach, and he has possibly never felt more at peace than now, in the shade with the occasional breeze. But of course, he thought so every time the two of them decided to get high and lie in the grass.

“Tommy + Carol 4 Ever,” Steve reads out loud. “Fucking asshole.”

“Aw, does poor Steve still feel abandoned?” Robin pouts falsely and puts both hands behind her head.

“Shithead was my best friend for most of our lives, and now he's off somewhere licking Billy Hargrove's boot.” He frowns whilst pressing the final embers of their joint into the grass.

“You're just jealous,” she laughs mockingly at him and turns her head to peek out through the seats.

And Steve leans up on his elbows to look past her and in the same direction, to where he sees Billy Hargrove tearing off his helmet with a victorious smile, mullet done up in a low bun, bangs clinging wetly to his forehead.

“Fuck no,” he lies.

“Come on, Dingus.” Robin knocks their shoes together. “You know you can't lie to me.”

“I can try,” he huffs a laugh and looks at how she mimics him genuinely.

“You think I got it any better?” her laugh turns to a scoff and points up. “Tammy Thompson loves John Johnson.” And there's a deep silence for a few short seconds as she keeps her finger in the direction of that etching. “Who the fuck names their child John Johnson?”

Steve cannot contain his chortle, and she is right behind with her usual snort; the one that only comes forth when they're this high.

“It would be like-” Steve takes a deep inhale. “If you were named Robin Robinson!”

“Or you Steve Stevenson!”

“Is that a real name?!”

“Y-yes?” Robin fights against the grin that wants to spread all too wide, and looks at him. “Robert Louis Stevenson!”

“Who?” Steve keeps breathing slowly to try and calm down from something that isn't actually that funny, but when you got bloodshot eyes like these, everything is.

“The famous writer? He wrote Treasure Island and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.”

Steve leans up on his elbows again to stare down at her with the most bewildered look this illiterate teen can manage. “Mr Hyde as in... our chemistry teacher?”

“Oh...” Robin's blue blue eyes grow as wide as they can. “My God... Steve... No wonder you're failing literally every class.”

And his expression falls from confused to somewhat offended, but it is the inevitable truth. “It's fine,” he says with nary a worry, “I will get a job at my father's office as... I dunno, coffee guy? Mailman?”

“You really think he'd put you in charge of something as important as their postal service?”

Rather than come up with a sensible reply to that remark, he simply grabs a fistful of grass and throws it at her.

He smiles, she laughs, and the both of them settle down once more with only the loud cheers from the girls in uniform to fill the comfortable silence they find themselves in again, as they continue reading everything that's been carved and written into the far too old wood.

Steve's name can be found numerous times, both in forms of compliments-

“I wish Steve Harrington would notice me.”

“Mrs Harrington is my dream job.”

“Steve Harrington the Keg King.”

All surrounded by hearts.

On one step it reads, “Steve 'The Hair' Harrington” in suspiciously familiar handwriting.

He used to bring girls down here, too, and would have them watch as he reached high above them and wrote his name + theirs.

Steve + Laurie. Crossed out. Steve + Amy. Crossed out. Steve + Becky. Crossed out.

He never got to bring Nancy here. Brought Robin here originally for the same reason as the rest, but she was quick to tell him the truth as he stood too close.

At least they remained friends.

“Is your name up there somewhere?” he asks her, having never actually found it.

“I'm a band dweeb, what do you think?” she sighs but acts like it doesn't bother her.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Nope,” she lies and pops the p.

And of course he doesn't believe her, but he considers himself too nice to press her on any of it.

Silence drags on for what feels like eternity crammed into one minute, and he's got something on his mind, but has absolutely no clue how to work it into conversation all casual like, because it's kinda a big deal, but he doesn't want to seem a fool for thinking so.

So he tries to just flat out say it, “Robin?”

“Steve.”

“You're... smart, right?” He feels himself failing at just saying what he's thinking.

“Smarter than you, although that's not saying much,” she chuckles out and looks to him, but he seems... nervous, and she stops. “What's up, dingus?”

“I... I got a note in my locker today, and I don't really know what it means,” Steve speaks hesitantly and rips small pieces off of a blade of grass.

Robin's brows quirks up. “Oh? And you want me to decipher it for you?”

He sits up far too fast, and even though his body remains still, the world spins for longer than what is possible. “Would you?” There is such a brightness to his tone.

“Sure, what does it say?” She gets up as well and crosses her legs.

Steve fishes out a paper that has become impossibly crumbled up in his front pocket, to a point where the letters written in beautiful cursive is almost unintelligible.

“I love you more than words can wield the matter; dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”

And while she turns the paper around and re-reads those words, Steve stares unblinkingly so at her.

“So?” he finally asks, bursting with anticipation.

“So, it's a love letter.” She hands it back, and he looks at the paper with such admiration, as if he had forgotten he was worthy of such, just to be reminded of it now. “It's Shakespeare, King Lear. It means that she loves you more than words can describe.”

At that he looks up, beaming with elation as he asks for reassurance, “Seriously?”

“Yup.” She is clearly far less excited, but there's optimism to her tone, to know that he might find what they're both longing for, whether out loud or in secret.

“Someone wrote me a love note...” His smile wide with shocked disbelief.

“Congratulations.” She rolls her eyes although with raised lips, and lies down again.

-

The very next day, shortly after lunch has begun, he finds another in his locker and runs to where Robin would be eating her lunch alone in the unattended library.

Steve slams down the paper in front of her, and she pauses just before biting into her boring ham sandwich.

“Well well well lover boy,” she mocks lightly and places her food back down on the tray. “I assume you're in need of my service once again?”

The chair next to her screeches across the floor as he sits down with a hard bump. “Yes, and it's the same handwriting as last, so that means it's the same girl, right?”

“Hey now, I haven't agreed to anything yet!” She slaps her hand down on top of the paper, and smirks. “I will help you with this, again, if you buy me pizza after school.”

“Yeah, deal, whatever, just-” He gestures wildly to the neatly folded paper. “Tell me what it means!”

Robin shakes her head and slumps back into her seat; slipping down a bit with her legs splayed out all comfortable and taking up far too much space.

“Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, the pretty follies that themselves commit.”

She nods for a moment in thought, fully ignoring the way Steve's eyes could drill holes in her skull.

“I think it's from The Merchant of Venice. It means... something like, how love makes you act different?”

And since she seems satisfied with that, nods more and lets out a little “Yeah,” so is he.

“Okay, so, someone that acts differently around me?”

Robin taps her temple with a blackened nail and continues nodding like it's all he understands. Still, to ensure he gets her point, says, “You got it.”

Now it is his turn to slump into his chair, but far more confused. “How... how am I supposed to know that they act differently around me? Isn't that how I'll always have seen them, then?”

She raises her brows at that and sits up a bit more straight. “How astute!”

As if he knows what that means.

-

Through the weekend he waits on his bed, each note in hand and smiling so wide his cheeks grow sore.

Two love letters in two days? They are meant for him, right? This girl didn't accidentally put it in the wrong locker, right?

Steve catches himself briefly hoping she's beautiful, but pushes that aside by the fact that she's so poetically inclined, so sweet and shy that her looks hardly matters, for her choice of words warms his heart and makes it beat in a way that he has oh so missed.

Another thought is what if it's Robin, but he shakes his head violently at that stupid little thing, because no, she's his best friend and that's all they'll ever be, and he truly is happy with that. But everyone gets wrong and bad ideas from time to time, so he won't fault himself for her name popping up, as he mentally goes through a list of all the girls he knows. Or thinks he knows.

And though he tries to distract himself with TV and swimming in his pool and letting Robin paint his toenails, Monday always feels so far away.

-

It is the first thing he does when he shows up at school; pushes his way through his peers to fling open his locker, and sure enough a little note slips out.

He skims it for just a second before he rushes off to stand by Robin's locker for when she eventually moves to it and shoves him aside.

“Another?” she asks with her head in her locker as she rummages for gum.

“I knew she was gonna leave me another! I could feel it in my body the entire weekend!” his tone pitched high with excitement.

“Ew, gross, I don't need to know that!” she jokes and yanks it from his grasp.

“Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy, that one short minute gives me in her sight.”

And Steve folds it, lovingly so, before placing it inside his wallet, and thankfully he doesn't have to wait long for a more modern translation of it.

“Something something about how her pain and misery goes away in your presence; in the presence of a loved one. Romeo and Juliet, which is not a happy love story!” she says ardently and points a stern finger at him for emphasis.

“Okay, but does that mean we have classes together at least then?” Steve shrugs and runs a hand through his shiny hair.

“Probably? Or maybe some extra curricular activity,” Robin's tone careless and she starts down the hall, with Steve right behind.

“But the only other extra whatever I take is basket.”

“So maybe your admirer is a guy.”

He shakes his head with conviction. “Nah, I doubt that completely, I mean you've seen the handwriting! And what guy is into Shakespeare?”

“Anything is possible Steve, don't be so close minded.”

-

For once he is early to first-period history class, and he sits on the desk Robin usually occupies, to which she responds with throwing her bag into his lap, accompanied by a cocked brow and strong stare.

Steve doesn't say a thing, simply lifts up a fourth note, and she snags with from his fingers with an exasperated sigh.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

She groans out loud now and pushes him off of her table. “Come on dingus, this one is easy! You cannot be this stupid.”

“Just tell me what it is!” he says as he shuffles into the seat in front of hers.

“She only wants you, no one else, Jesus.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, his wide grin that of pure joy, and although this is a tiring thing to be bothered with every day now, she does appreciate his happiness to some extend.

-

Wednesday morning Robin is already by Steve's locker, arms crossed and a friendly smile painted across her face.

“Let's see what your stalker has come up with this time,” she says and leans away so that he can twist the lock in the right order.

And today it is a far shorter note.

“Love hath made thee a tame snake.”

She doesn't bother waiting before saying, “Love will humble and soften even the most hardened individual.” And there's a glint in her eyes, so short and easily missed, revealing that she might have an idea as to which hardened individual this could be. Not that she hadn't thought about him before already.

For she had seen his copy of As You Like It by Shakespeare fall from his bag in English Literature, but it is not her place to out anyone.

“That's a weird one, right?” His brows furrowed as he awaits affirmation. “Hardened individual? What does that even mean?”

“Steve, I-” She rubs her eyes hard and nods. “Yeah, it is a weird one. But it probably means someone who's acting tough, but in truth softens around you.”

He folds it back up and slips it into his wallet together with the other four.

“Tomorrow, then,” Robin says and pats his shoulder a few times before heading to class.

Steve stays still for a moment, looking at how the five notes stretches the leather of his wallet. His thumb runs over their ripped edges, all seemingly from the same piece of paper, thinking about the dainty fingers that must hold the ballpoint pen to write him such loving words.

Cheeks flushed, smile tender, eyes soft, he wanders towards class as well.

-

Months ago when he and Robin became best friends, she took a very slight interest in him and his education, because he very clearly needs help with school, and she's suspicious of the fact that he might be dyslexic, but when asked about it he gets mad.

So instead she demands food and favors from him whenever he starts screwing up in school again, starts falling behind, or shows up late to class. And of course he has slept through his alarm for the first time in weeks on this Thursday, the one day of two where they have first-period together, and now he'll have to pay for dinner at the diner, but he has a good excuse!

Sat up all night with several books written by none other than William Shakespeare that he had checked out at the library.

He's hungry and tired and in a goddamn hurry to get to class ASAP; the hallways empty and silent save for the occasional teacher yelling at an unruly student, but even that he can hardly hear over the beating of his heart, which is just great, because now he'll spend all day with floppy hair and reeking of sweat.

He just has to make a quick stop by his locker to see if there's a new note, the only thing that truly matters and overshadows the importance of getting passing grades or upholding his deal with Robin.

Around the next corner and... and...

And it never dawned on him at any point, even with Robin's constant droning of “Guys can read Shakespeare, too!” that his secret admirer might not be a girl at all. Maybe he was just so stuck in the expected reality of the world, the one he's so used to, before Robin helped him see the light, to help him realize that there's other options than gay or straight.

No he never even bothered thinking that way, till he sees Billy Hargrove slip something into his locker.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Billy Hargrove #Shakespeare #Fluffy fluff fluff #pining #I got drunk last night and listened to #twelfth night #And was like #Poet Billy? Poet Billy. #I think I've seen some other people talk about their love for that #and altho out of character imo #it was nice and fun #I write a lot of smut so stuff like this is RARE and a breath of fresh air to me #10/10 would write Poet Billy again #Also dumbass oblivious Steve #too much fun

[bemused-writer]

VNC Chapter 46 Analysis

Mochizuki's ability to pack so much into a singular chapter is truly a gift. In this chapter we get a lot of Dominique's POV, which was awesome, but pretty dreary. However, I don't think any of us can blame her; she once told Noé she worried about him blaming himself for what happened to Louis, but she never mentioned how much she is still bearing a great burden from the very same incident.

There's a lot to unpack in this sentence alone, but it reveals a lot about Dominique's mindset. In past chapters, we've already seen that she harbors a great deal of self-doubt; she isn't living up to her family's expectations and she's convinced the man she loves would prefer a different kind of woman, i.e. someone more like Jeanne. However, we see here that her self-doubt is actually better characterized as self-loathing. She doesn't consider herself suitable for Noé whatsoever. So, what is it that she thinks Louis has that she doesn't? She's gone to a lot of trouble to imitate him, after all. I think we can break her perceived failings into the following: 1) She can't be with Noé 24/7. I think a large part of why she thinks Louis would have been a better partner for Noé than herself is because they already lived together. He could have traveled with Noé to Paris, lived with him there, helped him handle Vanitas, Murr, and even Teacher. Basically, she assumes Louis would be ever present at Noé's side in a way she cannot. 2) An outgoing nature/ease of communication. Dominique believes that Noé had an easier time talking to Louis than he does with her. She saw Louis as smart and capable rather than meek and timid. What she doesn't realize is that Noé and Louis actually had a ton of communication problems and that Louis was incredibly withdrawn. I suppose that's the kind of misconstrued takeaway one has when dealing with someone they idolize and another they're crushing on. She doesn't have the clearest sense of their flaws. (Side note: I think it's kind of amusing that she just assumes Louis would be shorter than Noé. I mean, he was taller than him at the time...) So, even before Louis's death Dominique was dealing with some pretty heavy self-esteem issues, but we really see just how far they've developed over the years. The days following his death seem to really have taken a final toll:

Now, this is something I've wondered about for a while, but it's sad to have it confirmed. As I mentioned, Dominique was worried Noé blamed himself, but the truth of it is Dominique blames herself for Louis's death. The reason she's worried about Noé is because she sincerely believes that the only person worthy of this blame is herself. She thinks that if she had simply kept quiet, Louis would still be alive. Judging by how timid Dominique still is at home, I think this philosophy has followed her for her whole life: stay quiet and out of the way and things will be fine. It's completely different from how she is around Noé, but that's because she is trying to put on a persona she thinks Noé would prefer over her actual personality, i.e. Louis's personality. Of course, Noé cares about Dominique because she's one of his best friends; she doesn't need to do this to herself, but she doesn't realize that. She's fixated on this idea of adjusting herself until Noé sees her in the right light and her family accepts her. Unfortunately, we're dealing with a trio whose communication skills are epically bad. Louis asks Dominique to give Noé the chest "when the time is right." How is she supposed to know when that is? And how could he actually expect Noé to put those stakes to use? But the thing is that none of these characters are thinking clearly. Louis was a young person stuck on the idea that he was cursed and going to die. He refused to talk about it to his friends because, well, what could they do about it? Dominique is ridden with insecurities and couldn't be expected to handle the responsibility Louis gave her, and Noé cared far too much about Louis to fulfill his wish. The only person who could have stepped in and sorted any of this out was Teacher, but he's the one who allowed all of it to happen in the first place. So, Dominique does the only thing she can think to do at the time: stay at Noé's side.

Dominique is terrified here; I really think this might be the first time she's ever stood up to Veronica and it's only because of how urgent things are. We've seen in the present that Veronica has absolutely no qualms going toe-to-toe with her own sister or with publicly shaming her in front of the entire vampiric court. This is not a kind woman. And we see that she was no better in the past. Dominique is frightened of her, and then Veronica gives all of her fears and anxieties the final push they need to plague her for the rest of her life. She takes malignant glee at how her sister has been left in the dark (as if this is Dominique's fault; maybe her family should actually try telling her things...), mocks her, and then reveals her birth itself was a shame on the family.

Cruel though this is, it does remind me of a question I've had for a little while now: how do vampires procreate exactly? Apparently, they have to give birth on a full moon, which is already pretty different from their human counterparts. Now we hear that twins are unlucky because they "steal more life." What, exactly, does that mean? I suspect it doesn't simply imply that it makes the pregnancy more strenuous. Could it be that vampires have to very literally give up some of their lifespan to create offspring? Do they have to perform some kind of sacrifice? But it can't be wholly different from humans; otherwise we wouldn't have dhampirs. Well, we'll undoubtedly learn more about that at some point, but it is an interesting concept. Anyway, Dominique asks Veronica why her parents chose her over Louis. I mean, it's a valid question and it's a moment Veronica could have used to compliment her sister, or possibly console her in some way, so naturally she does the opposite. She basically says it was a whim of their father's. Now, I'm not totally sure I believe that. I had believed Louis was taken away because he was a curse bearer, but Veronica is making it sound like the problem was simply that he was a twin. If what Veronica says is true, that means Louis became a curse bearer after the fact and I think I have a sneaking suspicion of how. Teacher said it would be a waste to simply kill one of the babies and let's not kid ourselves by thinking he had purely good intentions here. He told Louis he wanted to see what choices he made. Well, for an experiment to work, you have to actually have some variable you're testing. I think Teacher (who probably has some connection to Charlatan) cursed Louis himself, perhaps to see how long he would last under those kinds of conditions and how he would try to change his fate. Also, I think it's important to point out that Veronica said "If news that your mother had given birth to twins had gotten out, it would have tarnished the name of de Sade." That pretty heavily implies that Veronica and Dominique do not have the same mother, which would make sense. It also raises yet another question of how vampiric society handles things like marriage. To me, it sounds like their father is the head of de Sade second only to Teacher. Does he have multiple wives? Concubines? If women have to give some of their life to have children, it might make sense not to have too many children with one woman, and if the aristocracy is determined to expand the family name, the easiest way of doing that would be by having several children. The de Sades are clearly concerned with preserving the family name and with having enough heirs to handle... I'm not sure. Antoine seems to be in charge of diplomacy, Veronica is a Beastia, and Dominique... What is it that she's supposed to be doing? What is it that they think she's failing at so badly? After Veronica's big reveal, Dominique wonders if Louis knew the truth and to be honest, I don't know if he was ever told, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was. Teacher wasn't exactly gentle with him and I'm sure he would be curious to see how he handled the knowledge that Dominique was very literally chosen over him. She is his twin sister and she can never know. By all accounts, Louis would have been justified in being cruel to her, but he never was; he was always kind and patient, and I think that says more about Louis than anything else ever will. If he hadn't undergone the horrors Teacher chose for him, he probably would have been a much more carefree person.

This scene is just sad on so many levels. Veronica didn't have to plant the seed of doubt in Dominique's mind that Louis would have been a better heir than her. She didn't have to make her wonder if Louis was simply a better candidate for everything she's ever wanted: better at being a de Sade, better for Noé, better for everyone. And poor Noé has no idea he accidentally fed into this. He was just as traumatized as Dominique and, well, she does look a lot like Louis. Who could blame him for mistaking them when he has a raging fever and is in mourning? But the damage is done. Dominique is convinced that Noé would have preferred Louis over her, and this has no doubt fed into her misery over her unrequited love for him as well. Perhaps, on some level, she believes that if she had been Louis, Noé would love her already. Also, this means that Vanitas's jab in volume two is all the more hurtful:

This always read to me as Vanitas saying Dominique was just a stand in for what Noé really wants and while it is true that Noé has thought of Louis on occasion when he's with Dominique, I don't think it's fair to say he wishes she were him. They're twins and they were both Noé's childhood friends. It would be normal for him to miss Louis in such a scenario. But Vanitas is very good at hitting where it hurts and he did so very well with Dominique. If there's one good thing that could come of this arc, I hope it's that Dominique realizes how much Noé cares about her. He goes to her rescue immediately:

We only see Noé get this serious when it has to do with Dominique or Louis. These are the two people he cares for most; he's not messing around when it comes to her rescue. Also, I really like that he doesn't bother with negotiating or any of that. He goes straight to the fighting and it's great; negotiation isn't going to work with this kid. With anyone else, this would be a great tactic, but Misha has a book and is willing to fight dirty. I really feel like this is going to turn into one of those: "If you'd just told me this in advance things could have been different!" moments that Noé and Vanitas have had in the past.

The text bubble really makes it look like Vanitas is just shouting this in the middle of the restaurant. I find that amusing, but wouldn't it make more sense to be thinking this...? XD But! Everyone is piecing things together way faster this arc and that is kind of a relief. Vanitas isn't going to be taken off guard by Noé acting strangely; he knows exactly what kind of damage Misha can do. Furthermore, Noé swiftly puts it together that Misha has done something to Dominique's name. If nothing else, at least everyone is in the know on how bad things are. 8D At any rate, Noé's attacks swiftly come to a halt when Misha uses the book on him. The technique is the same that Vanitas used on him during the Bal Masqué. It seems to primarily function as a stun, but it looks like Misha's was designed to pack a heavier punch because Noé can't move at all while he was able to somewhat when Vanitas used it. Of course, the main difference is that Vanitas didn't want to do permanent damage to Noé; he just needed to prevent him from hindering his job. Misha on the other hand has no qualms about killing a woman, so he definitely wouldn't be opposed to wreaking more havoc still on yet another individual. It's interesting that last chapter we got to see Noé tell Vanitas he's glad he's the person he is now because he's now getting a very fast intro into just how awful Vanitas could have been if he'd been inclined to. These books have the power to seal a vampire's fate, for better or worse. Misha has chosen for the worse.

"Only this book." I suppose that means he didn't inherit the name "Vanitas." (Did Vanitas really inherit it or did he just steal it?) It could also be a way of emphasizing he wasn't given Vanitas's book; just this one.

Amazing how at the end of their introductions, Vanitas is the one who looks decidedly mad, but it's Misha who is infinitely crazier. I guess first impressions aren't everything. 8D

Okay, he says he's kidding, but the only thing he could possibly be joking about is that he's an "average human being," which, let's be honest, sounded a lot like a lie when Vanitas said it, too. I don't think either of them are "average" human beings. Something about being kin to the blue moon changed them and I think we're eventually going to learn more about what and how.

Okay, so here's the thing. Misha may be "evil" but he's not an evil genius. There have been flaws in his plan from the get go, notably that he thought he could fully control Dominique to do anything that would put Noé in danger because I'm pretty sure his original plan went something like this: Dominique asks Noé to follow her. She leads him to Misha. Noé and Misha sit down for a chat. Noé agrees to drink Vanitas's blood and comes back with info. Only, that isn't how it went and it's unlikely this backup plan will work either. Misha is making a lot of assumptions here: 1) Noé has no qualms about drinking Vanitas's blood (as, perhaps, most vampires wouldn't), 2) Threatening Dominique won't lead to massive repercussions, 3) Vanitas himself won't be involved to mess this plan up, 4) Noé is actually capable enough as an Archiviste to locate specific information. Well, none of that is true. Noé has massive reservations about drinking Vanitas's blood, he absolutely will not forgive this kid for threatening Dominique, Vanitas is probably already on his way, and Noé is more likely to lose himself in Vanitas's memories and wind up traumatized than come back with any useful information. 8D I mean, maybe Noé does drink Vanitas's blood because I do believe he'd do just about anything to save Dominique, but I think it's more likely that Vanitas himself will show up and put a wrench in this entire affair. I guess we're going to find out the answer to that pretty swiftly with the next chapter. Anyway, I'm going to toss in a few predictions for this arc and see if any of them stick: Noé and Vanitas actually have to tell each other some of their dark backstories (in other words, Vanitas has to explain who "Father" is and Noé has to explain Louis), Noé doesn't drink Vanitas's blood, Dominique is lost to Noé, but not because she dies. Rather, I think it's more likely these two are going to have a whole lot of revelations about each other and the sheer awkward factor/shame will cause them to need time apart.

#vanitas no carte #vnc meta #vnc spoilers #Bemused's post #long post

[cameforagoodtime]

One Direction and Management

Okay, to start off, I am a quarantine fan. I didn’t know anything about One Direction until a couple of months ago. I am sure that there are things that I don’t know anything about, and I can guide you to accounts of people who have been fans since the beginning (or at least pre-hiatus) because they are much more knowledgable about everything and also have seen progressions that I will never be able to understand. That being said, in my couple of months being a fan I have seen many misconceptions about the music industry that seem to be prevalent in this fandom. I also need to disclose that I do not have a perfect understanding of the music industry. I have a much better understanding than the general public, but everyone in this fandom has a better understanding of the industry than the GP so that’s not much of a distinction. What sets me apart is that I have access to someone who was formerly a part of the music industry. My dad was in a band for 11 years (from 1989-2000) and during that time he developed an understanding of how the industry works. I know that I am not completely knowledgable about the ins and outs of how the music industry works, but I talk with my dad about music all the time so I have an understanding different than the casual fan. 

Also, most of the time when I am writing about the fandom as a whole I am writing about post-hiatus fans. Most of the long-term fans that I have come across are so battle worn that they intrinsically have a great understanding of the industry. The problem comes from the people that haven’t seen the ebbs and flows of the industry over the last 10 years and tend to make incorrect assumptions.

One thing that I see all the time with the boys (especially Harry) is this inherent distrust of managers and management. I see where it comes from, Modest was absolutely terrible and did terrible things to the boys (though you have to admit even though they’re terrible they operated with incredible amounts of success). The major difference between Modest and all of the boy’s current managements is that they didn’t choose Modest. It’s widely known that the first deal that you get in the industry will take advantage of you. I have heard stories of small bands that are signed to a label that end up having to pay off their debts for decades after. The boys were pigeonholed into a deal with Syco from being on the X-factor, the contracts they had to sign to even be able to compete on the show ensured that. Because of that, Syco was able to take advantage of their naivety and get a better deal (for Syco not for the boys).

In general, management is a separate deal from the label. A label generally does not assign a management team, usually an artist already has a management (or at least a manager) before they negotiate their first deal. Because of the contracts the boys signed to get them on x-factor, they were pigeonholed into Syco and Modest, and then all the problems that we know and love started happening (though I do think that its very interesting to think about the first year and a half where Modest really didn’t exert a lot of control, but that’s a thought for a different post). I think people in this fandom tend to think of every management company as Modest and don’t understand that the first offer (which is what the boys accepted after the X-Factor) is always going to screw you over.

I think the best way to describe the normal relationship between artist, management, and label is that the management works for the artist, the artist works for the label. The reason that the management is necessary is because the label can (and does) try its best to screw people over. Artists hire a management to make sure that their interests are protected in the face of the label. I think most of what I am talking about is with Harry, so mostly I’m going to talk about the Azoffs. 

Irving Azoff is one of the best managers in the industry. He won an honorary grammy, and he is widely regarded as the most powerful person in the music industry. The way he has gained this power is by being cut throat. I am in no way defending Irving (or Jeff) Azoff, I think it is very likely that they are terrible people, but they are undoubtedly very good at their jobs. Your manager should not be your best friend, and I think all of the boys know that. Your manager should, however, be someone that you believe will fight tooth and nail for your best interests, and the Azoffs have proven time and time again that they are willing to do that. Irving Azoff is widely credited for the weakening of power that the labels have had over the last couple of decades because of his willingness to cut other people down for his clients. 

Here is where we get into my experiences. My dad’s manager was a guy named Alan (Al). Al is a super awesome guy, was a great manager for my dad, but at the end of the day he is pushy, micromanages everything, and I’m not going to lie I’ve heard stories of my dad being super annoyed with him. The reason my dad kept him around, however, was because he was really good at his job. Al would negotiate with the venue to get he highest pay, he would negotiate with the label to get more money out of a record, and sometimes he did the hard thing and told the band the things they didn’t want to hear. This was all his job. My dad still plays a show every two years or so with the band, and Al still tries to negotiate the highest amount of money he can out of a concert (even though my dad and all of his bandmates have other careers now and don’t really need the money). Al is now one of the managers for Duran Duran, is on the board for like 7 companies, and is altogether really successful, but it’s not because he was the nicest person to be around, in fact it’s mostly because of the opposite. 

I absolutely love Al, but he is such an asshole sometimes, and it’s because of that trait that he was a good manager. The same goes with the Azoffs. Yes, they probably aren’t great people, most people in positions of power like that aren’t. They are good managers because of their asshole tendencies, not in spite of. 

One of the things that makes me the most frustrated in this fandom is this inherent distrust of the Azoffs off of the belief that they manipulated Harry into signing an un-beneficial contract. This idea seems to stem from the belief that Harry isn’t smart enough to realize he’s being manipulated. I can assure everyone that after 10 years of being high level in the music industry, Harry is well aware when he’s being manipulated. I’m sure that he’s aware of his position and how people will try to take advantage of him, and I’m certain that he’s hyperaware of the fact that people are going to try to manipulate him. The major difference lies in the fact that 26 year old Harry is armed with a plethora of knowledge about the inner workings of the industry and a really good legal team that looks over and negotiates every contract he signs, 16 year old harry was not. 

In conclusion, managers suck, but that’s the whole point of their job. No one is best friends with their management. So no, Jeff Azoff is not the devil and forcing Harry to stay off of social media because of image control. It’s realistic that after 10 years in the public eye he wants the keep his life private (I absolutely do not blame him). I think that it’s likely that his label is controlling him and his image a bit (again, a post for another time) but I don’t really think Jeff is forcing Harry to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Harry isn’t a naive 16 year old anymore. He has an understanding of the industry much deeper than anyone in the fandom because his is all first person.

I also think its important to note that the image we were getting of the boys while in the band was also not authentic. I think that this is something that is too often forgotten, but even at the beginning when they seemed to be given a free for all there were clear messages that each of them were tasked with delivering. I think that the perception is often that management was less controlling of their social media during one direction, and while to some extent this is true, it’s important to note that their public persona has never been a true representation of them. We do not, nor have we ever, truly known who these boys are. We only know what they are willing to publicize.

I might make more posts about things people don’t understand if there are any requests (or if I just get bored). If anyone actually is reading this I’m sorry that you had to read through all of that, but if you have any questions (which I’m sure you do, I’m really bad at explaining things) just message me and I will be happy to explain it.

EDIT: I feel like this may come across as me saying that management disputes don’t happen in the industry. They absolutely do, it’s just that it doesn't seem likely that Harry in particular is having management disputes. All of the boys (except maybe Liam, but I don’t know enough about that particular situation) seem to be okay with their management teams. Harry seems to be totally fine with Jeff, so people really need to stop saying that he is unhappy. Jeff isn’t controlling all of his actions like people seem to think

I also think it’s important to remember that Niall is still signed to Modest, and it doesn’t seem to be forced. Modest may have been terrible management for Louis and Harry (and even though i don’t know enough about their specific situations I’ll group Liam and Zayn into this category as well) but clearly they were good managers for Niall. Every single situation is different but people need to realize that management doesn’t do all of the image control, they execute a lot from the label as well (and Syco seems pretty homophobic so...)

#one direction #harry styles #louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #modest management #jeff azoff #too many words on my annoyances #truth of the music industry #is this a masterpost? #I'm not really sure #When I'm talking about misinformed Stans I'm talking about twitter #They are just so ... uh #I'm so sorry for all the old fans that have had to deal with them forever

[multibug]

i'm out of my head and i know that you're scared (because hearts get broken)

chapters: 19/? (chapter one is a prelude from my love square fluff series and is included) words: 51,441 relationships: adrien agreste/marinette dupain-cheng, alya cesaire/nino lahiffe   tags: Alternate Universe - No Kwamis, Chatting & Messaging, Long-Distance Friendship, Identity Reveal, Slow Burn, Influencers, Aged-Up Character(s), Human Kwamis, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Lila Shakes Things Up summary: ren from ren and stimpy: think its the opposite u furry lookin ass

right chat: Rena, nooo!!

ren from ren and stimpy: rena yes

or, Adrien is a streamer on top of his modeling job, with the help of his long-distance friends Ladybug, Carapace, and Rena Rouge. Shenanigans ensue, and the masks they’ve hidden behind for years begins to break.

“You’re telling me that some bitch—”

Nino sputters out a mildly horrified laugh. “Alya!”

A strand of hair is tucked behind her ear by said snapback-clad boy and she huffs loudly. “What, Nino? It’s not as if I’m wrong. As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, she stole my identity?!”

A strand of hair is tucked behind her ear by said snapback-clad boy and she huffs loudly. “What, Nino? It’s not as if I’m wrong. As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, she stole my identity?!”

“Yeah, we only realized she wasn’t you when the two of you returned from your trip and messaged us,” Adrien supplies helplessly, shifting to tuck a leg under him. 

Alya gives both him and Marinette the stink eye, though Adrien’s sure it’s just a test if he knows her well enough. “How could you ever think someone like that was me?” 

“To be fair, Als,” Marinette starts off, voice gentle as she scooches closer to Adrien to lean against his arm. “We didn’t really get to talk to her. I tried messaging her on Discord and on Twitch, but she kept claiming she was busy anytime I reached out. I figured you were just upset over the breakup originally and needed your space, you know? I didn’t want to push it.” 

The redhead’s harsh exterior fades, and they’re left with a sad one instead. “Yeah, it’s just bizarre that she’d even want my account? Is she that obsessed with sunshine over here?” 

“Hey! Don’t say that.” Adrien’s cheeks flush a deep shade of red, which has Marinette pinching them. He grabs her hands and huffs. “Hey to you too!” 

Marinette’s laughter is contagious. “Hey, what’s up?” 

Alya raises an eyebrow in Marinette’s direction and leans in to whisper into her ear. Whatever Alya says has Marinette’s cheeks burning a bright shade of pink that travels to her neck and parts of her shoulders. She quickly removes her hands from Adrien’s, yet stays tucked against his side.

Both of them blinking over in Adrien’s direction has him believing it had something to do with him. 

“Whatever the case may be,” Adrien begins, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He’s not thinking about those last few seconds. Nope. “We need to be smart about this, Ren—Alya. She has your account right now and has all of our subscribers like putty in her hands.” 

“Adrien’s right. If we go about this the wrong way, they might think we’re lying, and we do not want for that to happen,” Nino chimes in, resting a reassuring hand on Alya’s shoulder as she begins to close in on herself. 

“It’s weird seeing you be reasonable,” Marinette comments idly, her hair splaying out over Adrien’s arm and shoulder. 

Nino hums. “Only when it’s needed.” 

“That’s a good way to live.” 

“Yeah, I try.” Nino flips his non-existent long hair over his shoulder. 

“So what do we do?” Alya’s voice is soft, nowhere near as confident as the girl they know. 

Marinette sends her a reassuring smile. “Max is working on getting the account back as we speak. Going through the conventional means won’t work, but if anyone can do it, it’s Max.”

“He said he’d call once he has the account back, so instead of sitting around all day like plebs, I’ve planned us a little adventure.” Nino’s lips curve into a smirk that excites Adrien. “Get dressed, lads and ladettes. We’ve places to be, things to see!” 

“Do you have any idea what he’s got planned?” Marinette asks both Adrien and Alya as Nino disappears into the guest room to supposedly finish getting ready. 

A light breeze travels in through the screen door of the balcony. It’s chillier than it’s been the last few days, though not nearly as cold as Paris is during this time of year. Birds still flock regularly on Marinette’s balcony, a few residing today with the leftovers of what she’d given them earlier. 

Adrien loves it here. 

(Marinette definitely isn’t the main reason, no. He wouldn’t admit it to himself if he was paid to.) 

“No idea,” Alya replies with a shrug, a far-off look in her eye. “I’m going to go get dressed.” As soon as the look had appeared, it vanished, and she follows Nino to change. 

“We have to keep an eye on her,” Marinette whispers, a bit too close to constitute a reasonable amount of personal space, but Adrien isn’t complaining. “I don’t like seeing her like this.” 

His heart warms at how caring she is. “You’re too nice, Bug. She’ll be okay, but we’ll be there for her if she needs us, okay?” 

He hopes his reassurance is enough to quell her worries. 

It does seem to be enough, and a huge smile breaks out on her face. “Thanks, Adrien. You’re the best.” She leaves him with a quick, slightly wet kiss on the cheek and scurries out of the room with a giggle, much to Adrien’s amusement. 

He raises his eyebrows with a smirk, shaking his head fondly. If that’s how she wants to play, then so be it. 

Game on.

— — — 

PANINI: gamers im taking the ladies out today if you guys want to come, let me know and i’ll dm you the details

Banana head: NINO, YOU IDIOT. I’M NOT A LADY. Who changed my name? I will end you.

chlo: rmbr u rmbr right?

Banana head: Chlo, I swear to all that is holy. Don’t tell that story. 

chlo: how much?

RENegade: is sHE ASKING FOR SEX???

marimba: SEX???????? wheRE?????

chlo: GOD NO I’M A LESBIAN WHAT THE FUCK

Kagami: Lesbian, huh? ;) 

chlo: kagami stfu is2g

Kagami: ;)

chlo: ANYWAYS how much money, adri

Banana head: You want another Louis Vuitton bag, don’t you?

chlo: IT’S THE NEWEST OF THE SEASON AND THEY WON’T LET ME HAVE IT

Banana head: Sigh. I’ll see what I can do. 

chlo: thanks bitch! you’re the bomb bomb dot com bomb diggity someone take away my phone

Alix: hey, @Carapace, what time are you guys going out? rose, juleka and i are about to see a movie but if it’s after that, we can meet up

PANINI: we were gonna head out before the rain hit so in like five minutes

Juls: drat we can just hang out another time then :( have fun guys!!!!

marimba: YOU TOO JULES I LOVE YOU BITCH

Juls: I AIN’T EVER GON STOP LOVING YOU

Alix: BITCH

Banana head: Best meme. 10/10. 

luka: how can you say that when the chicken nuggets meme exists

marimba: I ONLY HAVE 69 CENTS!! GOOD MEME!!!!!! 

luka: see even marinette knows

marimba: haha it has 69 in it haha haha ha 

Banana head: You’re such a child!!!! 

marimba: COMING FROM THE MAN WITH THE NAME BANANA HEAD WHERE’S CHLOE I’LL GET HER THE LOUIS VUITTON BAG IF IT MEANS HER TELLING THE STORY

Banana head: I’M KIDDING. I’M KIDDING!!!!

marimba: that’s what i thought :) 

PANIN(o)I: y’all better be ready we leaving now let’s GO 

RENegade: I’M COMING BITCH CHILLLLL

marimba: wITHOUT ME????

Adrien’s been ready for a bit, but he doesn’t mind waiting. 

He decided on wearing a pair of black jeans instead of shorts, just in case it rains while they’re out, and a black sweater with a thick jean jacket. His hair is a dark brown shade, still lightening at a slow rate, though he doesn’t mind it much at this shade. 

He wouldn’t dye it again to match, but he’ll let it fade as he’s enjoying the brunet life.

Marinette’s bedroom door squeaks open and she appears through the door, dressed and ready to go. 

And wow. No one should look that good, and she pulls it off so easily. 

Her bangs frame her face like curtains, her hair just past shoulder length from being straightened. Her bright blue eyes blink amusedly at him, lips arching into a smile.

The only makeup he spots is on her lips, a lip gloss that makes her lips look super kissable. “Problem, Agreste?” 

Laughter bubbles out of his lips, and he averts his eyes. “None, Dupain-Cheng. Just admiring your beauty, is all.” Lying won’t help his cause, so he might as well be honest. 

She rolls her eyes, hard enough to hurt, yet her cheeks give her away. “Sure, whatever you say!” 

His eyes flash over her attire. While she’s not dressed up by any means, the outfit she chose suits her so well. 

Wait. Is she trying to kill him?

With the impending rain and whether they’ll end up caught in the crossfire, she’s chosen a black baggy sweater, denim jeans with large holes around the knees with fishnet stockings underneath, and black old-skool vans. 

And to top it off, she’s wearing his merch. His Chat Noir sweater that’s completely black, with white lettering in the center that says, “I’m the Chat’s meow”. He hadn’t noticed at first, been too preoccupied with, er, other things—her lips—and he’d lie if he said his face didn’t get slightly hot at seeing her in person in his merch. 

“I thought you only bought the sweatpants, Bug?” He asks offhandedly, eyes averting from her for a second time. 

(He has no idea the nickname brings another bout of red to her cheeks.)

“Shut up or I will take it off right now—” 

“Oh, please d—”

She’s in front of him in a second, her hand firmly covering his mouth with a menacing look in her eyes. “Adrien Agreste, if you continue with that sentence, I will murder you and I won’t tell anyone where I hid your body—”

Adrien bursts out laughing the best he can, and it sounds so bizarre with her hand muffling it. His own hand finds her wrist and wraps around it, gently prying it away from his face. “Bug, please, you’re going to kill me!”

“You’re not wrong about that,” she affirms with her eyes narrowed. She allows him to keep hold of her wrist.

“I was kidding,” he murmurs, eyes locking with hers as he brings her wrist to his lips and presses a light kiss to her skin. With how close she is, he can feel her breath hitch, so he sends her his best smile. “I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” 

Marinette’s head tilts to the side, face softening. Her free hand finds his cheeks and she squeezes them gently. “You’ve never made me uncomfortable before, and you haven’t now. I was kidding as well.” 

His eyes brighten. “Oh, so that means you—”

“You’re absolutely hopeless!” Her forehead drops to his shoulder as she whines loudly. 

“There, there,” he says, hand wrapping around her to pat her back. “You’ll be okay, Bug, don’t worry. I’ve got you.” 

She’s warm, so warm against him that his jacket feels stifling, and he tugs her closer, enjoying—savoring this moment with her. He doesn’t have many days left in Nice, and he wants to cherish every second he can. 

There goes his heart again, pitter-pattering away, following hers like a lost puppy. 

If only she knew.

#adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #streamer au #mine #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #i finally wrote it! #its' finally posted!!!!!!!!!!! #AAAAAAAAAAAH #i hope you guys enjoy #this is only part one of two tho :p #also this is not beta'd #ill probably fix it later but i aint give a FUCK #ladynoir #but unconventionally