#can you believe i've been saying this for nearly five years

[angelfic]

— IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU BABY

pairing: mattheo riddle x nott!reader

summary: you weren't quite used to the attention of other boys, and it seems your brother's best friend isn't too fond of it either

warnings: brother's best friend trope!! swearing, kissing, not much else, very much unedited

author’s note: i don't tend to stray outside of the marauders era characters buuuut i've been a bit obsessed with mattheo and theo recently so this was for my own selfish needs lol as always let me know what you think!!

He had barely looked away from you all evening.

You knew the only reason Mattheo’s eyes had been fixed on you for the entirety of dinner was because of a certain type of attention you had unconsciously garnered on your first day back at school. Particularly male attention. It wasn’t any less disconcerting, however, knowing that your brother’s best friend was prepared to fist fight any potential romantic advances towards you because he was just as protective as your actual older sibling.

Your brother Theodore is no better, a displeased frown appearing every five minutes when he looks over to where you sit at the Gryffindor table.

“Merlin, boys are pathetic,” Ginny mutters, spearing a potato with her fork. “You go away for one summer and come back slightly prettier and they flock to you like bees to honey!” You’re about to weakly protest that she’s exaggerating, but at that exact moment you’re interrupted by a tap on your shoulder.

You slowly turn on the bench, reluctantly lowering your goblet of pumpkin juice to face Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw boy who you’d only ever spoken to when he was going out with Ginny.

“Hi, Michael,” you sigh, offering him a bland smile.

“Hello, Nott,” Michael replies, with what he probably thinks is a winning smile. “Had a good summer? I was just going to ask if you wanted to go on the first Hogsmeade visit of the term with me.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Er- well, as… nice as that sounds,” you say slowly, not meaning a word. You glance at Ginny as pointedly as you can manage and raise an eyebrow. “I don’t quite relish the idea of going out with my best friend’s ex.”

“Oh! I, erm, I didn’t actually see you there, Ginny,” he stammers, laughing sheepishly. “My mistake.”

“Quite,” Ginny says drily, turning back to her plate of food.

“Well, er, see you later then,” Michael mumbles, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes back to the Ravenclaw table.

You bite your lip to stifle your giggles but it’s not long before you catch Ginny’s eye and the both of you erupt into fits of laughter.

“I can’t believe I ever went out with him,” Ginny groans, wiping her eyes.

“Was he always such a tosser or is that new?” you ask, snorting at the way Ginny scrunches up her face in embarrassment.

You’re still laughing when your eyes happen to pass over the Slytherin table just to focus on Mattheo.

You notice with a jolt that he’s looking at you again. This time, his eyes flick over to the Ravenclaw table for a second where Michael has settled back onto, then back to you and he quirks a brow quizzically.

Frowning, you mouth at him to stop in hopes that he ceases his scrutiny, just for him to roll his eyes and return to whatever one-sided conversation Blaise Zabini was attempting to engage him in. You hope you don’t look as flustered as you feel after realising Mattheo has just witnessed such an embarrassing encounter, but you’ve found over the years that you’re not the best at hiding the effects he has on you. Theo has never mentioned it in front of Mattheo as far as you’re aware, but he definitely hasn’t shied away from teasing you about the childhood crush you have on your brother’s closest friend. Not that you’ve ever admitted it to him anyway, and you’ve gotten a lot better at hiding it since nothing could ever come of it.

“Your brother and Riddle have been looking like they’re ready to halve the male population of Hogwarts since we got on the bloody train,” Ginny says, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Tell me about it,” you sigh, cutting into your carrot a little more viciously than needed. “They keep looking over at our table. I feel like I’m on one of those Muggle reality television programmes Hermione was telling your dad about the other week.”

Arthur Weasley was absolutely transfixed when he was learning about reality television from Hermione during breakfast the week you both stayed at The Burrow, and although you zoned out after his sixteenth question about a singular programme, you feel as though you caught the gist of it.

“Hm,” Ginny agrees, grimacing at the memory. She had nodded off at the table during that conversation and fallen asleep on her slice of toast. “In fairness, that’s not really a new thing.”

“What, being watched by my two guard dogs?” you ask in a mock-serious voice.

“Yeah, but…” Ginny chews thoughtfully for a second before answering. “I’m not just talking about today, or even recently. Your brother mostly minds his own business. I’m talking about Riddle. He’s always looking at you, I noticed it last year. Wherever we are, kind of like he’s checking up on you,” she says like it’s common knowledge, shrugging. “It’s sweet, I guess.”

You blink at her, a little speechless.

“What?” Ginny frowns after a few seconds of your silence. You look at her with raised eyebrows, not really taking her seriously. In your first few years at Hogwarts, you had confided in Ginny regarding your silly, little girl feelings for Mattheo and she would read into every action he took towards you in an attempt to prove he liked you too. Obviously, he saw you as nothing but a younger sister figure and once you grew up a bit, Ginny had let it go too.

Ginny reads your dubious expression now and sets down her knife and fork to cross her arms. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m serious! I’m not just saying it because you were helplessly in love with him until you were, like, fourteen.”

“Shush!” you hiss, thwacking her arm. “Why don’t you just get up on stage with Dumbledore and ask him to include that titbit of information for the entire school to hear in his speech!”

“Good idea,” she says, nodding seriously and starting to get up. You know she’s just teasing, but you start spluttering and frantically grab at her sleeve to sit her back down, causing her to topple onto you slightly. This sets you both off laughing again and you find it hard to stop for the rest of dinner and desert, thankfully staying far away from the topic of Mattheo. You also pointedly avoid looking at him again.

Once dinner is over, you head to the Gryffindor common room with the rest of your house and catch up with everyone for a while. After a couple hours of socialising and fifteen minutes of helping Neville Longbottom search for his pet toad, you head up to your dorm with Ginny and Lena, one of your other dormmates, to unpack.

As soon as you open your luggage, you search for your pyjamas and immediately change out of your robes and into a t-shirt and baggy shorts for comfort. You’re in the middle of unpacking some textbooks when you hear Lena whistle from behind you.

“I do not remember those pyjamas looking like that,” Lena comments, grinning at you. Rolling your eyes, you comply with her request to do a little spin and you can’t help feeling pleased when Lena and Ginny start whooping and hollering. “You’ve always been gorgeous, but you really grew up this summer, huh? Look at those legs!”

“Tell me about it,” Ginny pipes in, flopping down on her bed and abandoning her unpacked suitcase. “She came to stay for a week and Mum looked like she was going to cry every time she saw us. Something about ‘blossoming into young ladies’ or whatever bollocks.”

“You ‘blossomed’ last year,” you point out, and Lena hums in agreement. “I haven’t forgotten how Zacharias Smith fell off his broom trying to wave at you during Quidditch practice.”

Ginny groans and starts ranting about teenage boys again. Lena joins in and starts teasing her about how Harry Potter is the only boy she hasn’t complained about and you’re about to set down your belongings to help Lena dodge the pillows Ginny is throwing at her when a flash of green and silver in your suitcase catches your eye.

“Shite, I have Theo’s uniform,” you huff, grabbing the clothes out of your suitcase and sliding your slippers on. “That means he has mine and I am not dealing with this at seven in the morning. I’m gonna go drop this off, be back in a minute.”

Ginny says goodbye before resuming her pillow attack on Lena as you make your way out of the room and down into the common room. It’s nearly empty, with most people having gone to their rooms to pack and a quick glance at the clock tells you its past curfew. You decide to take the risk since you have a reasonable excuse, but you hope that if you do get caught, it isn’t by Filch or Snape.

By the time you’ve reached the dungeons, you thank Merlin that Theo had the sense to tell you the password for the Slytherin common room before dinner in case of emergency.

“Pureblood,” you mutter, fighting the urge to scoff when the door swings open. You enter the common room and brighten up when you see that the only students still hanging around are Theo and his friends. Your brother seems to have already started unpacking since he’s standing and holding your uniform, presumably about to come and find you. His friends all mumble polite ‘hello’s and he walks up to you with a smile.

“Oh, hey, I was just-” Theo cuts himself off when he properly looks at you and frowns. “Wha- Why are you wearing pyjamas out and about?”

“You’re wearing pyjamas too!” you exclaim, slightly embarrassed that your brother is doing this in front of your friends. They all turn to look at you again, hearing the indignation in Theo’s voice and you notice Mattheo suddenly sits up straighter. Suddenly aware of your bare legs, you tug down the material of your shorts, despite the fact they aren’t even very short to begin with.

“Oi. Stop looking at my sister!”” Theo snaps, glaring at Blaise, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. You know the only reason they glanced at you in the first place is out of curiosity regarding Theo’s question, but Theo and Mattheo scowl at them all the same and they all start sputtering, Draco in particular when Pansy narrows her eyes at him. Theo sighs at you, quickly exchanging your uniforms. “Just- at least take something to cover up back to your room.”

“I’ll walk her back,” Mattheo says, out of nowhere. He stands up and makes his way over to you, face carefully blank. Theo nods, agreeing quickly before he ruffles your hair goodbye to go and finish packing. You’re too surprised by Mattheo’s offer to protest until you’re already out of the Slytherin common room.

“I don’t need someone to walk me back, you know,” you mumble after a minute of charged silence.

“It was either me or Theo,” he shrugs, completely unapologetic when his mouth quirks up in a smug smile. “And I know you prefer me.”

“You’re both equally annoying,” you say, rolling your eyes, happy that he’s talking to you like normal again. You hated it whenever Mattheo was serious – it was rarely ever towards you and you much preferred when his whole face lit up with a smile. He begins to tease you about your bunny rabbit slippers and you’re in the middle of pretending to be irked when you both run into Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff prefect doing patrol duties.

“Hey,” Ernie offers you a friendly smile and gives Mattheo a brief, slightly nervous glance. While you prefer not to get into trouble for breaking curfew, Mattheo clearly couldn’t care less and his relaxed, yet intimidating stance must be off-putting to Ernie. Thankfully, you’re on friendly terms with the Hufflepuff and you give him an even brighter smile to make up for it, to which he beams at. “How was your summer?”

“Good, yeah! Erm, listen Ernie. We didn’t mean to be out at this time, it’s just that I accidentally had my brother’s uniform and needed to-”

“Oh, forget it. Don’t worry, I won’t dock you any points,” Ernie reassures you, waving off your excuses and you instantly relax. Ernie gives Mattheo another unsure glance before leaning in the tiniest bit closer to you. You try not to pay attention to how Ernie has been glancing at your legs and how Mattheo tenses up when Ernie starts speaking again. “I was actually wondering if you were available next weekend…?”

Ernie trails off when you don’t show any indication of replying straight away and you snap out of your surprise to say something, but Mattheo beats you to it.

“She’s busy then,” he says coldly, working his jaw. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s late. Kindly get lost.”

“Wha- Matt!” you hiss, smacking his chest to which he barely flinches, nor does he look at all apologetic. “Ernie, I-”

“Never mind,” he says quickly, seemingly eager to just leave. “I’ll, er, see you later.”

You stand frozen in shock while Ernie rushes down the corridor and turns the corner, leaving you and Mattheo alone. Turning slowly, you look at him with barely contained anger.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you demand, voice sharp as nails. If it weren’t past curfew and you weren’t in the middle of a school corridor, you would most definitely be yelling. Mattheo stands with his hands in his pockets, clenching his jaw and his silence makes you even angrier. You accepted long ago that you’d never have a chance with him, but now he was getting in the way of you having a chance with anyone. It was completely unfair. “What if I actually wanted to go out with him?!”

Mattheo scowls at this, but his impossibly dark brown eyes flash with a hint of uncertainty. “Did you?”

“What?” you ask, impatient.

“Did you want to go out with him?” he says, voice low and dangerous. He walks forward, towering over you and you refuse to be intimidated so you start walking backward until your back is against the wall. Despite having cornered you, he maintains a fair amount of distance between you, leaving plenty of space if you want to move away. You don’t.

“That’s none of your business,” you say stubbornly, raising your chin and trying your best to keep your voice steady. Mattheo narrows his eyes and reduces the distance between you ever so slightly with another small step. You nervously keep talking. “I can go out with whoever I want.” Another step. “And you can’t just-” One more step. “Matt.” His shoes are flush with your slippers.

“What?” he whispers, tilting his head and looking at you calmly, while you feeling anything but calm. “I can’t just… what?”

The previously respectable distance has gone out the window and instead you barely have space to breathe with the way Mattheo is leaning in, head dipped toward you but never touching, hands resting on the wall either side of you. He leans in, eyes dropping to your lips and your heart leaps in your chest with anticipation, but he ghosts his lips over your jaw instead and the barely-there contact has you breathing unevenly.

“You can’t…” you exhale, trying to finish your sentence with some dignity and failing miserably. “You can’t just scare people off like an overprotective older brother.”

Mattheo stills, lifting his head enough to meet your eyes, but making no move to distance himself any further. He scoffs quietly. “Brother,” he says the word with a mildly disgusted scowl. “Is that what you think I want to be?”

“I- I don’t…”

“You don’t know,” Mattheo finishes for you, the corners of his mouth turning up, yet his expression is devoid of humour. “No, you don’t know how badly I wanted to hex Macmillan just now. How badly I wanted to try out some new, experimental spells on that fucking Ravenclaw earlier. But none of that had anything to do with brotherly feelings.”

“They were just being nice,” you say stupidly, with not a clue in the world as to why you’re defending them right now. If anything, you’re just confused.

Mattheo quirks a brow, tongue pressing against his cheek as he considers your words. “That Ravenclaw from earlier was talking about you on the train. He said he was going to ask you out at dinner because you’d ‘gotten hot’ over summer,” Mattheo sneers, like he’s suddenly regretting not hexing Michael Corner in the Great Hall. “They weren’t being nice.”

All of a sudden, you feel irritated because you have no idea why Mattheo is telling you any of this. “What’s wrong with a boy finding me attractive? Is that such a crazy idea?” you demand, part of you not wanting him to answer.

“Merlin, do I seriously have to say it?” he groans, sighing when you glare at him. Mattheo takes a breath, meeting your eyes and you marvel at the sincerity you see when he speaks. “You didn’t ‘get hot’ over the summer. You’ve always been beautiful and they’re idiots for not paying attention then.”

Your breath catches in your throat, whether it’s from emotion or from the close proximity with Mattheo, you aren’t sure. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Mattheo nods, leaning back in to brush his nose against your own, his breath mingling with yours. “Always have.”

You take this as a cue to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him in and the next thing you know, his mouth is firm against yours, and his hands are finally touching you, grabbing you by the waist and sliding up your back to hold you closer. You’ve thought about kissing Mattheo before, but the thoughts feel utterly stupid compared to the real thing. Mattheo kisses you fiercely, mouth sliding hot and wet against your own making you come alive and weakening you at the same time. He nips at your bottom lip and you gasp, causing him to smile into the kiss. Your hands are sliding up his chest to snake around his neck when a thought suddenly occurs to you and you pull away abruptly.

“Oh my God, Theodore,” you hiss, covering your mouth with your hand. Mattheo furrows his brows, looking a little dazed and confused. “What are we going to tell him?”

 “He knows I’ve loved you since we were kids,” Mattheo says flippantly, waving you off and impatiently starting to lean in again, but you stop him with a hand on his chest. “What?”

“You’ve loved me since we were kids?” The words hardly register, but before you can feel any sort of elation, you mostly feel pissed off that your brother has clearly had his fun with the situation for years. “And Theo knows?”

“Yes,” Mattheo says slowly, as if he were talking to a child. He brushes the hair out of your face and his gaze turns a little uncertain when he speaks. “Er, this is hopefully the part where you say you feel the same way.”

“Well, of course I feel the same way,” you huff, still thoroughly annoyed at Theo. “He knew I was crazily in love with you too and the bastard was so irritating about it!”

You’re about three quarters of the way down a list of ways you want to get back at your brother when Mattheo gently turns your face by the chin to look at him. “As much as I’d love for you to plot against your brother right now, it’s kind of a mood killer thinking about him when I’m kissing you.”

“Sorry, sorry. Continue with the kissing.”

“How romantic,” he says drily. His smirk turns smug, however, when he processes your previous statement. “So… you were in love with me too. What was the word you used, again? Crazily? Crazily in love…”

“Don’t make me take it back, ‘cause I swear I will.”

© angelfic 2023.

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x fem reader #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle scenarios #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle ff #mattheo x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #older brother danny #sam is one protective gal. this scene went differently in my head. way differently. but alas. i am not complaining. #sam: if bruce wayne abandoned my best friend i'm gonna physically transform myself into a dragon and incinerate him. how dare he. #bruce and damian got to watch in real time as a random girl who knows danny suddenly realizes he's related to them. which is comical to me #because she suddenly goes from being disinterested but weirded out by damian. to suddenly looking at bruce like she's gonna kill him #which is very funny to me bc from their pov at first its like this random girl just speedran hating bruce. and then her parents bring up he #friend danny and then she calls him danyal. and suddenly its starting to click into place like 'oh fuck wait we may just have a lead on -- #-- finding danyal and his whereabouts.' especially after sam's mom mentions the scar on his face. like wow. what a crazy ten minutes. #not seen but def happened: sam gets her phone out to go text danny in the corner. she's not gonna bring up the bruce thing yet. she needs #a pick me up. related note: danny and tucker know she's gone to some gala thing with her parents but not to a wayne gala. if danny had know #he may have told her that he was related to damian wayne. just to prepare her for that. not so sure on the writing in this one folks #but i also dont wanna go through and edit anything its like half past one in the morning and i also dont wanna wait until morning to post #when i can just do it now. and get instant serotonin. i thought of this scene in various ways. like sam calling damian 'danny' out of shock #and then quickly correcting herself. and then excusing herself very quickly. or her mentioning that damian resembles her friend danny a lot #so she was just thrown off by him. because i def think that could happen if sam has no reason to think that she needs to hide danny from th #waynes. i also thought about her parents mentioning that damian resembles danny a little bit. only for one of them to go 'oh no no couldn't #- be. how insulting to damian since the daniel they know has this horrid scar on his face.' and then go from there. either way i thought #a scene like this would be fun. get to also kinda explore how danny looks like from his friends' povs. of which he is #'our lovable jerk who is an ex-cult member and whom we will maim someone over.' #not a scene that was added but i wanted to: sam mentioning in parenthesis that she and tucker think danny was part of a cult prior to the #fentons. and that sometimes danny will say something alarming and sam and tucker will stare at him until he frowns and goes #“that... isn't normal. is it?” and tucker will clap his shoulder and cheerfully go “no buddy. no it isn't” bc i think the idea is funny. #sam is so focused on the idea that bruce abandoned/ignored/was unaware of danny's existence that she momentarily forgot that bruce may have

[luveline]

thought of a cute eddie and roan request!! since it’s almost summer time they go to the pool or beach?? roans having a blast

thank you!! dad!eddie takes you and his baby for a trip to the beach (lake)!! this is when they haven't been together as long and roan is younger!! dad eddie x fem!reader ♥︎ 3k

Eddie's daughter is nearly five years old, about 3ft 5in, and weighs less than fifty pounds. She has slightly chubby cheeks, a huge smile, and she has never been this excited in her life. 

"I swear I've taken her on vacation before," Eddie says, his eyes moving between the road, the side of your face, and Roan's joyous expression in the rear view mirror almost frantically. 

You push your sunglasses up your nose. "I believe you. I've seen the photos, Edward." 

He snorts. "You know that's not my name." 

"But it makes derision much funnier to call you something formal."

"You usually go with Munson." 

"I'm feeling festive today, it's such a good day." 

Roan agrees from the back with a small shout. 

You turn in your seat before Eddie can, eyes creased with affection when you see her again. Roan is in her best summer dress with her hair braided back out of her face, ending before her ears so her curls can take centre stage. She's got her delicate blue cardigan on, and a sandwich in her hands. You've been trying to break the long drive into smaller bits for her with snacks and songs, and it's worked thus far. 

"Do you want another sandwich, baby?" you ask, clicking open the the tupperware in your lap. "We've only got PB and J left, Eds. Can I give her that? I don't wanna ruin her dress." 

"If she wants it," he says, shrugging. His expression is cut short as he turns the wheel sharply to the side. "Woah! Sorry, ladies, I almost missed the turn. What a loser."

You tear Roan's sandwich into a smaller one and hand it back through the seats. "Try not to get it on your dress, princess, it's so pretty," you plead. 

"I won't," she says. As soon as you hand her the sandwich she drops it on her skirts. She's just old enough to understand what's happened, and giggles like she thinks she's about to be told off. 

You've seen Eddie do it enough times. Roan drops a crust or spills a drink and Eddie pretends to be cross, eyebrows drawn together in an unconvincing glare. "Roan," he always says, and if he can reach he chucks her under the chin with his knuckle, "how dare you. You know accidents aren't allowed." 

It warms your heart that her reaction to a potential chastisement is laughter. 

Roan has firmly passed baby stage: she doesn't look like a big baby, she looks like a very small child, with deceptively long arms and legs. She waves one leg toward you and says in her high-pitched, sometimes illegible voice, "My shoe's coming off." 

Her shoe isn't coming off, but the buckle around her ankle has come undone. 

"Oh no," you dote, leaning through the two front seats of Eddie's car to help. "What happened? You're too happy, babe, all your dancing must've wiggled the buckle free."

"I'm too happy," she agrees, "we're going to the beach now." 

"We're nearly there," Eddie says. 

Indiana Beach is an amusement park on Lake Shafer ninety miles away from Indianapolis, which is a good eighty miles from Hawkins. If you were to draw this journey on a map, it would look like the hands of a clock at three thirty, or a 'Y' without one of its eyes. With Eddie's cautious driving but not much traffic, it had taken you guys nearly three hours from the time you set off from his trailer at seven in the morning to now. It's an aching amount of time to confine a child, and Roan hasn't slept a wink, so her happy attitude is miraculous and perhaps precarious. 

Which is to say, you smother her in love and hope it will keep her from becoming too agitated. You and Eddie have already discussed the possibilities of her behaviour — if she started a screaming crying tantrum as she sometimes does, Eddie would pull over and you'd climb in the back. If your company didn't help, he'd pull over again and you'd take a break wherever you were. If she still didn't improve, you'd think about going home. The point of the trip is for Roan to have fun.

You can see the Galaxi from a mile away, a huge curling roller coaster on the Indiana Beach pier. Eddie starts grinning, really smiling, the kind you don't get to see very often. He smiled like that when he asked you to be his girlfriend outside of the Hawk movie theatre, and he smiled worse when you told him you loved him for the first time, your hand pressed against his chest and your face hiding in the crook of his neck. 

"Ro!" he says loudly, turning onto a side street in search of the parking lot, "look, baby! Can you see the lake? The beach? It's so sunny, oh my goodness." 

His hand reaches across for you. He squeezes your leg roughly, and it aches in the best way, fingertips digging into the soft inside of your thigh. You can't help laughing, pleasantly startled by his obvious joy. 

Roan starts talking and you're sorry but you're not an expert in her warbling yet, not when she's speaking a mile a minute. You catch "beach," and "sunshine," and "daddy!" but that's about it. 

He drives into a ticket parking lot a fifteen minute walk from the pier and finds a space with ease. You quickly undo your belt and get out, stretching your arms behind your back and leaning forward to roll your neck out. You're sore from all the back and forth, attention split between Eddie and Roan for the last three hours. 

Eddie gets out on the other side, and he should get Roan's stroller first, but it was never going to happen. He opens Roan's door and the excited stream of chatter increases between the both of them. You come around the back of the car and watch him pull her out of her car seat, fussing over her skirts and her hair and her tiny shoes. He makes one of those heaving dad groans when he picks her up, one arm skewed under her butt and the other behind her back. It's more hug than carry. 

"Hey, baby," he says, "how's that? Is it nice to be out of the car?" His hand moves to her legs. "Should we do some walking and stretching?" 

He rubs her legs. 

"Daddy, it's sunny, it's like– like with Uncle Wayne, when'd he says that the sunshine is out to play," she says, her hands moving from her chest and into the air above her head like a burst. "It's not messing around!" 

You laugh, your heart melted to a wet goo. Eddie gives you an eyeful, as if to say, Yeah, I made her, that's my kid, and I know she's the cutest thing on God's green earth, thank you very much for noticing. 

"It's not," he agrees, putting her down on the ground. You stand a little ways away, knowing she won't run into traffic but worried anyhow. 

Eddie holds one of her hands and Roan puts the other one back in the air, stretching up big and tall. Eddie strokes a hair behind her ear, and his thumb lingers affectionately on her cheek. 

"Will you wear your hat?" he asks. 

"Do you have a hat?" 

"Uh, no, daddy doesn't have one," he says. 

"But I do!" you butt in.

They turn to look at you. You open the trunk, digging through your packed bags to find the sunhat you'd brought with you. You pop it on your head and turn to smile at them. "See? So you wear yours and we'll be matching." 

Roan doesn't hesitate to crowd your legs. You grab her hat from her 'baby' bag and place it carefully on her head. It hides her beautiful hairdo, but it'll keep her safe from the heat. She looks you in the face and grins. 

"Beautiful," you compliment. 

Eddie doesn't look quite as summer ready as you both. His hair is down, shiny clean but unlikely to stay that way considering the heat. He's wearing blue denim rather than black, something he'd spoken of with horror but more than pulls off, and a black Motorhead t-shirt. There's one chain around his neck that he never takes off, but besides that he's sans jewellery. 

"Roan," he says, "we're gonna walk to the pier to stretch our legs, but you have to hold hands. And you can sit down in the stroller when they're tired again." She nods hurriedly at the idea that she'll be free for a while. "Okay. Alright." 

Eddie gets her stroller out and unfolds it, putting her baby bag in the seat. You rake your fingers through the ends of Roan's hair while you wait, the sun warming the back of your neck already. 

Eddie locks the car, and the three of you start toward the pier. Roan holds your hand and Eddie pushes the stroller out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk that leads to the pier. 

The smell of salt tickles your nose. Roan's hand flutters in yours like a hummingbird, excited gasps breaching her lips when you pass an ice cream stand bragging rainbow cotton candy bigger than her head, kaleidoscope gelato, Popsicles in cherry red, raspberry blue and lime green. Her eyes widen at the sight of huge diamond kites, yellow rubber dinghies, surfboards and wetsuits dripping water down sandy ankles. 

You know Eddie's been saving. He confessed, when you'd brought up your concern one night, that he wants her to have everything. 

What's going on? you'd asked, frowning at his bedraggled face after another late shift. You knew Wayne had been picking Roan up from daycare to let him keep working, and it just hadn't been like Eddie to do that. You can tell me anything.

You'd been expecting, regrettably, money troubles. The Munson's aren't rich but they've never been hurting for money since you met, and all these extra hours has you assuming the worst. 

Eddie rubbed a tired eye. I just want her to have everything. I don't want to say no. Not even once. When we go on vacation, I want her to point at things and I want her to know how it feels to be able to have them without a fight. 

Admirable, a tinsy bit silly. Of course he wants that, isn't that what everyone wants for their children? Admirable, because he wanted it and he worked for it, and he saved up enough to bring Roan here and spoil her within an inch of her life. Silly, because Roan doesn't ask for much. She does ask for stuff, of course, but she's not gonna beg him for a two hundred dollar professional kite, or state of the art arm floaties. But just because you think it's a little silly doesn't mean you aren't incredibly in love with him, impressed by and proud of his efforts. 

He wants to get Roan everything. And so they start with shaved ice. 

It's the second stand you see, just off of the pier with a long, long line. Eddie scoops her up off of the floor so she can see the different flavour combinations, and it's no surprise when she chooses all the pinks and red. Strawberry, cherry, and pink lemonade. The cone is bigger than her hands and costs a ridiculous seven dollars. 

The small smile on Eddie's lips when he can crack out a crisp twenty dollar bill and hand it over makes you smile, too. It's satisfying. All that hard work was worth it for this moment. 

And the moment after. Eddie takes the snow cone and Roan audibly sighs. 

"Oh, my gosh," she says. 

You laugh. Eddie looks at you from over his shoulder and beams. 

Roan wants to do everything, as Eddie predicted. She plays arcade games she's too short for, hoisted up on his knee or in your arms, face screwed in concentration every time, and though the controls escape her she loves hitting the big red button and watching the claw come down. 

But she also wants stuff money can't buy. She wants Eddie to hug her when the clown walks past because he's big and bright and a little scary. She wants kisses when they stand at the side of the pier to look at the lake, blue and clear as an ocean, and drops some of her own against Eddie's sweaty cheek when she's been loved up. She wants you both to swing her by the hand when you're walking down the ramp to the beach, which is difficult but not impossible with the stroller in Eddie's other hand. 

She wants to get ice cream, and a slurpee despite her half eaten snow cone. She wants soft pretzels and churros and a hotdog with extra onions. She wants a surfboard, and you dissuade Eddie from getting her one of the proper ones in favour of a floatie. 

She wants you to put the finishing touches on her crumbly sand castles, and to cuddle in your lap when Eddie makes her drink from a cold bottle of water. When you've been sat in the sun so long that your brain is jellified and you have more sand in your shoes than sock, she springs up from her stomach where she'd been kicking her little feet drawing smiley faces in the sand and demands you take her down to the waterfront. You leave your towels on and the stroller further up the bank and pray for the best, and Eddie peels out of his t-shirt and rolls up his pants a couple of feet from the water. Eddie pulls her sandy dress off to reveal the swimming costume she'd been wearing underneath, a bright yellow costume with a skirt, not too tight to hurt, and bends down at the waist to talk to her as they wait for the water to rush in. You encourage armbands over her elbows. 

"It's gonna be cold, Ro, so we have to run in! Are you ready?" 

"I'm super ready!" she says, squeezing his hand and squaring her shoulders. 

You secure her bands and take her other hand into your right hand, your shoes in your left, bracing yourself for the shock. 

You run in full pelt and screaming with joy. Roan's voice turns into a stream of "oh my god oh my gosh daddy pick me up'd it's too cold oh my gosh," as the water covers your calves and her waist. Eddie immediately leans down to pick her up, out of choices and surprised by her loud aversion. Water stains him from knee to navel. 

"It's not that bad, babe," he says, though he meets your gaze over her head and mock glares at your shaking head. It's freezing. "We just have to get used to it. Ready?" 

He doesn't let her get ready. He doesn't let you get ready. He grabs your wrist and pulls you with him, fighting the cold as the gentle lake tide laps at your waists. 

"Eddie, our pants!" you protest. You'd brought spare clothes in case of any accidents. This is decidedly not an accident. 

"Please, sweetheart, just come in," he says. 

He should legally be prevented from saying please and sweetheart in the same sentence. You submerge yourself to the waist as he wanted and stand there in the water, the taste of river water heavy on your lips now, splashes of cold wetting higher up your chest. It's close to intolerable, the only saving grace the heavy heat of the sunshine above you.

"How's that, Roanie?" he asks.

He's clearly having a blast. His eyes are brighter than the sun dappling that kisses the waves. 

"It feels squishy," you say, adjusting your footing in the sandy bottom of the lake. 

"This is so FUN!" Roan shouts, letting go of Eddie's neck to put her hands in the water. She splashes the surface and soaks Eddie's t-shirt to the neck in the process. 

You almost fall over trying to find his waist in the blue. You wrap and arm around Roan and Eddie wraps and arm around you, the three of you much too deep in the lake and with no plans of turning around just yet. 

"This is so fun," he says, kissing her cheek, kissing yours. "We should do this every year." 

You smile at his chest. 

You hadn't realised, yet, that he wanted you every year. Roan babbles her agreements, talking about her snow cone and the sunshine and her floatie. She stops suddenly. 

Eddie rubs her shoulder, water shining across her pale skin. "What, babe?" 

"Daddy, where's my floatie?" 

You head back up the beach to find it. Her stroller and your towels have been left alone, but the floatie must've been too tempting. 

Eddie, without complaint, goes to buy another. 

—

more Eddie and Roan ♡

please reblog if you enjoyed, it means so much!

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

[harrygoeswest]

Harry Styles is your sworn enemy. You've decided to take a holiday in the Scottish Highlands, and so has he. And there's only one bed…

~~~

A/N: Hiiiiii! I think I announced this like 3 months ago and never finished it, but we're finally here! I actually really fucking love this story. I've never done this 'one bed' trope before, nor an enemies-to-lovers OU, because EVERYONE loves H man, right? Well, not this YN. And he's not too fond of her either. I'm really excited to share it with you. Again, what started as a one shot grew into a two-parter because I simply cannot contain myself when the ball starts rolling. Anyhoo, to my forever friend @all-things-fic, thank you as always for reading this through and making me snort at your comments and being the ultimate validator <3

Word Count: 13,261 Trigger Warnings: Swearing (obvs), vomiting, bed-sharing with a sexy man

~~~

Rain. Persistent, unabated, never-ending, relentless rain. It was all you’d heard and seen all day and you were sick of it. You’d never really minded it until today, but thanks to one shit-show after another, you were ready to relinquish it. You wanted it gone. Your summer holiday was already off to a bad start.

“Bad day?”

Where to begin?

A cabin in the Scottish Highlands had sounded like the perfect escape for a four-week break away from the city. You had work to do, deadlines to meet, but at least you could do it without being interrupted. Without the sounds of pedestrians and car horns and wayward seagulls and bike bells. Yep, the Highlands still sounded perfect, but the endless string of catastrophes made you wonder if it really was perfect or rather just a ridiculous indulgence.

No. You deserved this break. Bad day or not, the holiday was needed.

When your brother had told you a year ago that he’d bought a holiday home in the Highlands you hadn’t exactly been surprised. He and his wife had been talking about it for years, and he’d finally earned enough money through his music career to be able to do it. Sadly, with your own deadlines and packed schedule, this was the first time in said year you’d been able to find time to go.

Apparently the all-knowing entity in your life had other plans.

You were supposed to come by plane first thing this morning, but your car had broken down on the way to the airport and you spent 3 hours waiting for the AA to rescue you. You had then managed to rearrange your flight to a later one, but because of the weather, all other flights out of Bristol had been cancelled for the day. You then spent a ridiculous amount of money on a 10 hour train from Bristol to Inverness with a change at Edinburgh in between, and were now forking out on a taxi to take you the rest of the way.

At that particular point in time, a cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a dreadful fucking idea.

“Could say that.” You managed weakly.

The driver chuckled to himself and you tried not to squeal. “Nearly there now. Fifteen minutes or so.”

There is a God!

Forty-five minutes later he finally stopped in the middle of a single track road. Your eyelid had been twitching for half that time, and a headache was forming in your left temple.

He turned over his shoulder and flashed a grin. He was missing an incisor and three of his other teeth were gold. “This is as far as I can get you. Cabin is at the top of that hill.”

You gave him a look, then peered out the window. All you could see was rain and mud and a black night. “What hill?”

“You’ll find it. Fare is sixty.”

“Sixty quid?”

He nodded. “Scottish if you’ve got ‘em. I’m a collector.”

“We agreed on forty. And no, I don’t have any bloody Scottish notes.” A Scottish man collecting Scottish money! On what planet?!

“No, sixty.”

You muttered expletives under your breath and shoved the money at him over his shoulder.

“Y’alright gettin’ your own case, love? Don’t really want t’ get wet.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

In the shittiest, snappiest manner you could muster, you got out of the car and retrieved your luggage from the boot, slamming every door you touched. The driver immediately pulled off once the boot was closed, pipping his horn.

“Wanker!” You yelled after him.

Finding your bearings, you located the ‘hill’ he’d been talking about, forcing down your frustration at the size of the damn thing as you started up the pathway. You dragged your suitcase behind you through the mud, grateful it had a hard and waterproof plastic exterior. At least after all this you’d be able to take a shower and change into clean clothes.

It took you an embarrassing amount of time to reach the cabin, thanks to not only the rain but also the brutal wind. When you finally reached the porch you fell onto it, greeted by the most intense relief you’d ever felt. You took a minute to recover from your exercise, and then fumbled around on the dark porch for the stone your brother had left the key under.

“Aha.” Delighted when you found it, you pulled the key out of the rock and shoved it in the door, unlocking it.

Heat floated over your body, as did warm, homey light. Weird. Why were the lights on?

Then did your eyes land on the thing that was most definitely out of place. 

A loud, shrill scream ripped from your body.

A man was in the cabin. A naked man. Mostly. The only thing saving him and you was the towel wrapped around his waist. Shiny back, muscly arms, damp neck, wet hair. At the sound of your wail he turned around, equally as alarmed.

“What the-?”

In his panic, the grip he had on his towel slipped, and you were given more of an eyeful than you ever bargained for. 

You screamed again and reached for the closest thing to you, then lurched it across the room at him. Then your brain caught up with you, and you pulled the door closed again, separating you from him. You were back outside in the cold.

That man wasn’t just anyone. He’d never been just anyone. He was your sister-in-law’s friend. He was your brother’s boss, to a degree. He was your worst fucking nightmare rolled into physical human form.

He was Harry fucking Styles.

This was officially the worst day of your life.

“No, no, no, no, no.” You repeated, over and over again as you paced the porch, head in your hands. You knocked into your suitcase multiple times and it ended up falling down the porch steps into a muddy puddle. You tripped over a loose piece of decking at least twice. You caught your hip on the porch bannister, too. But none of it registered with you while your brain cycled between images of Harry’s naked back and his large appendage.

How could this be happening? What had you done to deserve such a catastrophic start to your holiday? You couldn’t stay here. Not with that man. That man that you hated, and who hated you in return. This was a disaster.

You dug your phone out of your sopping handbag. No signal. 

“Oh, come on.” You hissed.

Stubborn as always, you tried to call your brother anyway. Repeatedly. Twenty times, at least, each one failing to connect. You couldn’t even leave a voicemail. You raised the phone to the sky like it was baby Simba. Still nothing.

“Fuck!”

The door swung open, and Harry said your name in a low grunt.

You swivelled, glare like a dagger. “You. Why the fuck are you here?”

“Why am I here?” He scoffed. He was clothed now, in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. “Why are you here?”

“This is my brother’s cabin! I have a key! He said I could stay here!”

“Well, guess what?” He leaned forward, arms crossed. “Holly said I could stay here, too.”

You wanted to throw your phone at his stupid face. “Fucking great.”

“There’s obviously been some misunderstanding.” He straightened.

“You don’t say…” 

His gaze narrowed. “You’re impossible.”

“At least I’m not the one who’s stupid enough to state the obvious.”

You turned away again and tried your brother one more time. The beep beep beep that told you the call had failed yet again had your stomach in knots.

“There’s no phone signal here.”

“Yes, thank you. Just go back inside.”

“No.”

“For the love of Christ, why not?”

“I’d rather see what you’re going to do with yourself.”

You turned another glare on him. “Oh, I’m so glad that the shitty situation I’ve found myself in is entertaining you, Harry. Please, mock me some more. The resulting anger might actually take the chill out of my fucking toes.”

He looked like he was about to open his mouth, but you didn’t let him.

“You know, this really has been the day from hell. It’s been a categorical disaster from start to finish, and finally getting myself here only to find you, of all people, really is the cherry on top of my whopping slice of shit pie. So please, do me this one favour, and sod off back inside.”

His jaw ticked, and he emitted a low growl before he slammed the door of the cabin and left you in the cold, wet night.

A sob wracked through you, and you flopped down on the top step just to let your body deflate for five minutes. It was so cold you were shivering. Your clothes clung to your body like sheets of ice, your lips were cracked, and a bite ate away at your toes.

You knew you couldn’t do much tonight. You’d have to wait until tomorrow, for when the storm hopefully passed, and you could call your brother to give him a gobful and then walk into the village to find a B&B or cheap hotel. You hadn’t forgotten that your train ticket was a set day return for four weeks’ time. You’d just have to wait until Harry was gone before you took your time to enjoy the cabin like you’d planned.

When you finally calmed down you dragged your suitcase out of the mud and dropped it on the driest part of the deck. You dug around for the jumper you’d brought with you and pulled it over your frozen torso. You also took your shoes and socks off and put two clean pairs on. Once you were wrapped back up in your coat, you settled on the armchair that was the least wet and tried to go to sleep.

After five minutes or so, the cabin door creaked open again.

“Come inside, please.” Harry’s voice was void of any emotion.

“No.”

“You’ll get sick if you stay out here.”

“Rather that than share a bed with you.”

“And you think I want to share a bed with you, either?”

“Then we’re both on the same page. I’m fine out here.”

“You are not fuckin’ fine out here. It’s shitting it down, for fuck’s sake, you could get a flu. Or worse.”

You hadn’t opened your eyes so you had no idea what his facial expression read. “I’m surprised you give a shit enough to care.”

“I don’t particularly, but I like your brother and I don’t want him thinking I didn’t at least try to get you to be sensible when it’s fucking biblical outside.”

“I’ll pass.”

Harry took a deep breath, and he muttered, “Bloody insufferable woman,” before he slammed the door again.

You snuggled further into the chair, shoving your hands under your face. You thought that would be the end of it, but no more than thirty seconds later the door swung back open. You pretended to ignore him, expecting a verbal taunt. Instead, all you got was scuffing noises.

Pushing down the urge to growl like he did at you, you squeezed your eyes shut and faked indifference at his huffy grunting. Until he dragged you out of the chair and hauled you into the cabin in three easy movements.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, scowling at him as he locked the door behind you.

“You can be as stubborn and petty as you like about this, but you are not staying outside in the rain. End of story.”

“I was fine!”

“You were not fine.” He folded his arms again. “Look at you, for fuck’s sake. You’re about five seconds away from catching hypothermia. You think I want that on my hands? You, of all people, needing my attention every day for the next five weeks? I don’t, by the way. I came here for a holiday, too.”

“I didn’t bring myself here to be a God damn burden to you, Harry. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Why don’t you go and get in the shower, and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down.”

You inched closer to him. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love that. Me, following your orders like some sycophant.”

He took a step closer to me. “I would, actually. It might make you somewhat tolerable.”

“Get fucked, Harry.”

“Sounds like you need that more than I do.”

You produced a noise somewhere between a grunt and a squeal, and shoved at his chest once before you stalked away. “Prick.”

He hummed, entertained. “Try not to think about mine while you’re in there. I’m sure the sight of it has left you with enough to be desired.”

Too tired to argue with him anymore, you threw your middle finger at him over your shoulder.

Whether you’d been forced inside against your will or not, you really did want a shower before a permanent chill settled over you. You turned the water on and let it run hot. The second it swilled over your body you let out a helpless moan. 

You stood stoic underneath it for an indeterminate amount of time, just willing your body to warm up. The day washed away from you, worries temporarily forgotten while you soaked up as much heat as you could. Oh, it was glorious. A shower had never been so rewarding.

After a while you realised you didn’t have any of your shower stuff with you, still locked in your suitcase, and you let out a huff. You surveyed what Harry had brought with him and spent too long debating whether it was socially acceptable to wash using your mortal enemy’s shower gel. You decided against it and would properly wash in the morning.

Taking another ten minutes, you decided you were ready to face Harry again and whatever bollocks he might throw your way. You found a towel and gave your hair a dry, then wrapped it around your body. You hadn’t thought this through in your desperation to get away from him.

You stepped out of the room with purpose and marched over to where Harry had abandoned your suitcase after dragging it inside earlier, and carefully picked your way through it to find your pyjamas and toothbrush. Without giving the man even the slightest glance, you locked yourself back up in the bathroom to change and clean your teeth.

“Forget your clothes?” Harry asked at your second reappearance.

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” You gave a roll of your eyes.

He sat straighter in the armchair he was settled into, “Why answer a question with another question?”

You ignored him. Instead you gave yourself the opportunity to actually take in your brother’s second home. You realised it was tiny. Like Tiny Home tiny. When he said he’d bought a cabin you thought he meant something like a chalet. But no, this was small. A kitchenette had been built into the right-hand wall by the front door with a fridge, a two-plate hob and a stainless steel sink. Two armchairs sat either side of a small birch table, and a double bed at the back of the room with a cherrywood wardrobe. A woven rug gave the space a homey feel, balancing the bare oak that gave foundation for the rest of the place.

A sinking feeling buried in you when you realised there wasn’t a sofa.

You rubbed a hand into your cheek, feeling slightly cheated by your brother and his wife. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Harry said into the quiet, all malice and jest lost.

“I feel like it.” You admitted, turning your stare on the bed. “I’m just tired.”

He cleared his throat and stood. “I sleep on the left.”

You refrained from giving him another eye roll and instead focussed on settling down. You left your phone on the dining table, plugged in to charge overnight, poured a glass of water which you drank in one long swig, and then returned to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

Harry had settled on the left side of the bed but with his head at the foot and his feet at the top. If he slept on the left, did that not completely defeat the purpose of his claim?

“Top and tail.”

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not.” You shook your head.

“Why not?”

“I am not giving you the opportunity to stick your foot in my face at any given point in the night.”

He kissed his teeth and sat up with a scowl. “Woman, you have got some major fuckin’ trust issues.”

“With you I do, absolutely.”

You waited until he was in bed the right way up before you slipped in yourself and turned the light off. The room was cast in darkness and your eyes struggled to adjust. You faced away from Harry on your side, wriggling to find a comfortable position, and you could hear him doing the same.

His foot was definitely on your side of the bed so you kicked it away. He then tried to take the covers off you, but you were quick to snatch them back. He let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have some of the quilt, please?”

“You’ve got some.”

“I have none.”

“Bullshit.”

He ripped the covers away again, and you fought the urge to squeal.

“Give some back.”

“You have some.” He said in the same tone you had.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’ve just spent an hour using up all the hot water so I refuse to believe that.”

“What is your problem?”

“You are.”

You grit your teeth. Folding your arms, you scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Arguing with him was fruitless, it just left you angry and wired.

Tomorrow, you resolved to find somewhere, anywhere else to stay. For now, you’d try to sleep uncomfortable and coverless.

~

Had you slept?

No.

For hours you’d imprisoned yourself on the edge of the bed, cold and coverless, hugging yourself in an attempt to keep warm, and squeezing your eyes closed just praying that sleep would come. But it never did. You’d think after the day you had yesterday it would be easy to just drop off. Why would it be that simple for you?

You knew it was light outside now thanks to the inside of your eyelids. You decided then to give up. Sleep wasn’t coming.

As you opened your eyes you realised how close to the edge of the bed you were. At the same time, Harry wriggled again, further onto your side of the mattress, and his knee nudged your backside.

Oh no.

Struggling to find anything to hold onto, your body tumbled over the edge. A panicked yelp tore out of you, followed by a grunt and a thud when you hit the floor.

“Ow.” You whimpered. You’d fallen on your front, knee and toe first followed by your head. You rolled onto your back and held onto your forehead as if it might stop the pounding you felt.

Laughter started, and your eyes flew open to find Harry hovering over the side of the bed, green eyes shining. You were, actually, somewhat offended by how entertained he was. If it was acceptable to hit people, you’d be hitting him.

“You alright down there?”

“No I’m not fucking alright, Harry.”

Your own anger made the throbbing in your head worse so you stayed on your back.

“Alright, was only a question.”

“This is your bloody fault - you’re a bed hogger!”

“Yeah? Well you snore!”

“Considering I didn’t get a single second of sleep last night I don’t know how you’ve landed on that conclusion, and I can only assume you’ve made it up to piss me off.”

“You were snoring.” He said in a flat voice.

“No I wasn’t.”

The throbbing got worse again, so you squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath. Then another.

“You’ve hit your head.”

If the thought of rolling your eyes didn’t make you nauseous you’d absolutely do it. “If there was an award for Best Observationist, you’d win it.”

“Do you need ice or something?”

His voice had changed and it somewhat startled you. You peeled an eye open again to find he hadn’t moved - he was still hanging over the bed. His expression, however, was neutral.

“Yes. Please.”

He gave a curt nod and then disappeared. You closed your eyes again, willing the throbbing away.

“There isn’t any ice.”

You refrained from screaming, knowing it wouldn’t do you any good. “Okay.”

“Here,” his voice was much closer, and he gave a little pat to your knee, “this might help.”

Peeling an eye open, he flashed a couple of boxes of painkillers. “Panadol.” Of course the man had branded paracetamol. The 95p boxes of Sainsbury’s own shoved in your kitchen cupboard looked shameful right about now.

“Extra strength. And that rapid relief ibuprofen.”

“You brought painkillers with you on holiday?”

He shrugged. “I’m here for a long time. Hangovers need encouragement to get fucked.”

You raised a sceptic brow. “And here I thought some magical mystery Nutri-Bullet recipe would be your saviour.”

“Funny.” He muttered.

Huh. How unlike him not to shove a witty rebuttal at you.

“Do you need help getting up or are you just gonna sit on the floor all day?”

Your scowl returned. “I’m fine.”

On shaky legs and with a fuzzy head, you grabbed the side of the bed and hauled yourself up. You weren’t sure if the sudden ringing in your ears was something you should be worried about, but you persisted.

Once sat, Harry handed you the tablet boxes and fetched a glass of water for you while you thumbed out two of each.

“Thank you.” You mumbled.

“Please and thank you in the space of ten minutes?” He goaded. “Sounds like you’ve got a concussion.”

“My parents didn’t raise me in a barn.”

He stood with his broad arms folded across his chest while he watched you swallow down four tablets, face a mishmash of irritation and something else. You refused to believe it was concern so you attributed it to frustration. You were just ruining his holiday the same way he was ruining yours.

You decided to finish the water, and then Harry took the boxes and the glass from you. You laid back down, shielding the room and your eyes with your arms.

“Sure you don’t need a hospital?” His voice was far away.

“Yes. I just need to close my eyes for a bit. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t answer, and you were thankful. Any more talking and your head might have exploded.

~

You’d fallen asleep. While you hadn’t intended to, you couldn’t help but be grateful for the respite. There was no way you would’ve been able to do anything on zero hours sleep, so a few was better than nothing.

You sat up, noticing that you’d corrected yourself direction-wise on the bed and pulled the covers over you. You must’ve done it subconsciously.

The cabin was quiet. Almost eerily so. There was no sign of Harry anywhere. The only sign that he’d been there at all was his own suitcase tucked away in the corner. No sound came from the bathroom, and all you could hear outside was birds.

Birds. Not rain.

You scrambled out of bed towards the front door and hauled it open, but it was locked. Harry had locked you in. You found the key your brother had left for you on the table and put it to use.

It was glorious outside. Not a cloud in the sky, blue everywhere, green even more so. And it was warm. Summer dress warm. Your feet itched to go outside, but you knew you needed to take it easy. The headache hadn’t completely subsided, but it was tolerable. Barely there. A shower and some food would fix it.

You closed the door and locked it again, determined to start your day. Steadily.

You were about to head straight for the shower when you noticed it. A brown paper bag trapped under a pretty mug, and a jar of instant coffee wedged inside it. The mug lived here - you recognised it from Holly’s old flat. But the greasy brown bag did not. You noticed the letters GF scrawled on the front.

He remembered.

Warning bells started screaming inside your head as you plucked the bag out and opened it up. The smell of cooled buttery pastry wafted from inside, and you pulled out the biggest croissant you’d ever seen.

The message was clear as day. Eat and get some caffeine in you.

This was bad. Angry Harry you could deal with any day of the week at any time of day. You could even cope with jester Harry, because you gave just as good as you got. But this? Base-level concern? It threw you for a loop.

Regardless, you were starving. So you boiled the kettle and made your coffee just how you like it as you tore off pieces of pastry and gobbled it down. While you waited for your coffee to cool once your croissant was demolished, you took a quick shower.

Half an hour later you were out the door and feeling a hell of a lot better than you had done for weeks. You wandered down into the village, the sun a glowing comfort on your bare skin.

You had a mission today: alternative accommodation.

You kept an eye on your phone for patches of signal, and called your brother whenever you found some. He never answered. Part of you wondered if he was ignoring you, and if that was the case you were going to have a very big problem. He only ignored you if he was avoiding you.

And that wasn’t even your biggest problem.

“I’m sorry, we’re full.” The receptionist at the final B&B said with barely an ounce of emotion.

“The sign outside said you had vacancies.”

“I just sold the last one over the phone. Haven’t had time to change it.” She gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.

You fought a petulant sigh. “Do you know where else I can stay? I’ve tried every B&B here and no one has any vacancies.”

“Why don’t you try an AirBnB.” She suggested with a tone dripping in sarcasm. “You young people seem to love those.”

Ah, so this was a territorial issue. You gave her a flat glare and left without another word.

Yet again, you found yourself in a rut. Your good mood had been successfully wiped away. Maybe you would check AirBnB, but the thought of spending another obscene amount on accommodation filled you with a sickly feeling.

Your phone started ringing, much to your surprise. Holly. “Is my brother ignoring me?”

“I don’t know, but if he was, he probably wouldn’t tell me.” She laughed, always a fan of your no-nonsense approach. “I thought I’d call since I haven’t heard from you. Did you make it there alive?”

“Alive is not the word I’d use to describe my current state. It’s also impossible to call someone when the phone signal is worse than a World War II air raid shelter.”

Holly cackled. “You’re such a nerd. What’s wrong?”

“Either you’re playing dumb to avoid my wrath or you’re very stupid.”

She gasped your name but she was most definitely entertained. “What do you mean?”

“Harry is here. Using your holiday home.”

An extended period of silence followed, completed with a breathy, “Oh… shit.”

Oh shit, indeed.

“Well,” she seemed to shake herself, “it can’t be that bad.”

This one was truly off her rocker. “Can’t be that bad? Holly, how many times have you been in a room with me and Harry at the same time?”

“Plenty.”

“Exactly. How many times have we had a fight whilst in said same room together?”

“Almost always.”

“Not almost always, just always. We. Do. Not. Get. On.”

“Oh, babe, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“There’s only one fucking bed!”

Holly went quiet for a minute, and you realised you’d earned the attention of a few passers by. You sat down on a nearby bench, wary of the throb in your head getting worse.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked.

That set you off. You launched into your shitty day from yesterday, from the car breakdown to the taxi driver to hitting your head this morning. Words without breath had never left you so fast and the feeling you were rewarded with after was less than satisfactory. Deflation. Sadness.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going.” You were certain she was lying about that last sentence but you didn’t interrupt her. “I’ll get in touch with Harry and tell him to rein it in.”

“I don’t need you to curb the man on my behalf, Hol. I can handle him myself. I just… I really wish he wasn’t here.”

“Do you want me to make him leave?”

A rare sight of guilt crept its way into the centre of your stomach. You battled the urge to say yes, because you knew if Holly asked him to, he would absolutely go. “No… hardly fair. He was here first.”

“Yeah but I bet you would’ve been if all those things didn’t go wrong yesterday.”

You grunted. You were supposed to arrive just before 9am yesterday morning, not close to 11pm. “Don’t make him leave. I’m a bitch but I’m not a complete cunt.”

“You’re not either of those things by any stretch. My friend just happens to know how to really rattle your cage.”

Ain’t that the truth. “I’m trying to find a B&B or something but they’re all full.”

“Oh, please don’t spend more money.”

“I can’t stay in your cabin, Hol. I didn’t sleep last night and that man does not know how to share a queen bed.”

“It’s actually a three-quarter bed.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned.

“Look, we wanted it to be as spacious as possible there. We didn’t anticipate two people who claim to hate each other having to share it. It’s for cuddling.”

That urge to smack someone reared its ugly head. “You’re ridiculous.”

She laughed from the back of her throat, and as irritated as you were it did make you smile. “Take a long walk, babe. If you’re in the village there’s a great ice cream place near the church that’ll make you forget all about He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can say Harry, for fuck’s sake.”

She screamed as if she’d been burned, teasing you.

“Shut up.” You actually managed to laugh. “Fine. I’ll go find some ice cream. But if they’ve got WiFi I will absolutely be looking for an AirBnB.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Do me a favour and tell my brother to stop being a wuss.”

“Oh, come on, you know he can’t handle your wrath. You can tell him yourself, anyway.”

You started looking around to see if they’d actually come up and were just loitering nearby to piss you off.

“What?”

“We were going to surprise you but I think you might murder us if we did. We’re on our way to you. My Nanna will be coming, too - we’ve got a table booked at the pub in the village.”

Unbelievable. “You little minx.” 

One of the reasons Holly and your brother bought a holiday home in Scotland was to be able to spend more time with Holly’s family. While she grew up in London and has never left it, her mum’s side of the family are all in Scotland.

Holly giggled, obviously delighted with herself. “Sorry. We’re set to arrive in about two hours.”

“But where are you staying?”

“My Nan’s house.”

“Not got a spare room, has she?” You mumbled.

“I know you don’t mean that, but she doesn’t. We’re staying on her pullout.”

“Damn.”

“We’re gonna go straight there and then come to you afterwards, alright?”

You took a deep breath and stood up from your bench. “Yeah, alright. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.”

“Byeee!”

You were already making a beeline for the ice cream shop by the time she put the phone down.

It was a cute little parlour, like something straight out of a movie. Retro tiles covered the walls and floor in pinks and yellows, two long display freezers to the left full to the brim with every single flavour one could ever imagine. Tables spread across the right and spilled onto the street, and booths in the corner each had a miniature jukebox on top.

“How can I help you?” A man behind the counter asked, dressed in a full uniform complete with the little hat.

“Hi, um,” you gave him the best smile you could, even if you were overwhelmed, “do you have any gluten free cones?”

“Sure,” he gestured to the stand on the top with a variety of cones, from small to ridiculously large in size, “just this one.”

The cone in question was the most pathetic-looking of them all. You did your absolute best to hide your disappointment. “Great, then I’ll have one of those. Chocolate, please.”

“Which type?” He lifted a brow.

You realised then that there were about ten different chocolate flavours. “Er… which is the best one in your opinion?”

That perked him up. He spent the next five minutes listing off reasons why the chocolate and hazelnut flavour was his most popular of all his options.

“I guess that’s the one I want, then.” You forced another smile.

“Coming right up.”

Something made you shiver, but it wasn’t a gust of wind or the freezers you stood by.

“At least try and act like you’re excited about it.” A deep voice murmured, far too close to your ear for your liking.

You practically hissed and took a very purposeful step away. “Jesus, Harry.”

He laughed, but the sound wasn’t spiteful like it usually would be. “Only you could make ice cream seem rubbish.”

“I don’t think ice cream is rubbish,” Was your only retort. You just wished gluten free cones didn’t look so fucking sad.

The owner handed you your cone and you paid him in cash. “Do you have WiFi in here?”

“Sure. Password’s on the wall up there.” He pointed at a laminated sign, and then turned his attention to Harry. “Hey, aren’t you that guy?”

Your cue to leave.

While Harry had an awkward conversation with the parlour owner about which guy he was, you connected to the internet and took a seat on the patio outside with your back to the sun. A satisfied hum left you at the warmth on your skin. You concentrated on demolishing your ice cream before you made a mess of yourself.

Unfortunately, Harry decided today wasn’t the day he was going to leave you alone. He sat down opposite you with a three-flavour cone, the colours unsettlingly unnatural. He looked uncomfortable, and this time it wasn’t because of you.

“What on Earth is that?”

“This is a masterpiece.” At least he could still behave like an idiot even when he’d been ‘spotted’.

“It looks disgusting.”

You watched him with a deep-seated discomfort as he shamelessly licked around his cone. Unfiltered moans came out of his mouth, but you were certain he was acting up for your benefit.

“What flavours are they?” You just had to ask.

“Mint chocolate, bubblegum and ginger.”

“Ginger?” You almost choked on a hazelnut. “Sir, you have a serious problem.”

He laughed again, that same obnoxiously easy sound as before. “Did you just call me sir?”

“I did and I immediately regret it.”

He made a noise, an amused squeak of sorts. “Why did you look so horrified by yours, anyway?”

You shifted in your chair, having just popped the end of the cone in your mouth. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure the owner wasn’t listening, pleased to find him distracted by a large family. “The gluten free options for cones was utter shite.”

“How so?”

“Well, he only had one type, and it was poxy as shit.”

He snorted. “I thought it looked small. I don’t imagine it being a lot of fun.”

You were immediately reminded of the croissant he’d picked up for you. You knew that you needed to say thank you, even if it did feel like taking a punch in the gut. “Thank you for the pastry.”

He paused mid-lick as if you’d just spoken a foreign language. He looked ridiculous and almost child-like, green eyes wide and pupils so narrow thanks to the sun they were barely visible. He rescued a drip before he made a mess. “Welcome. How is your…” he tapped his temple.

“Yeah, better.”

“Good.”

You returned to silence, and you got busy looking for a new place to stay. The options were… lacking. You knew the decision to go away during the school holidays would be a silly one anyway, but you wanted the heat. You wanted a summer holiday. Not a cold and wet one. But at such late notice in an area with limited options to begin with, all that was really left were large houses for groups of ten or places miles and miles away that would cost yet more money to travel to. The only other thing you could think of was buying a tent and pitching up on a nearby campsite, but you fucking hated tents and camping.

As time wore on and Harry’s ice cream disappeared, you noticed him growing more restless. You glanced up a couple of times to find him with his head down, but you eventually figured out the source of his discomfort. He was shooting looks at something over your shoulder while constantly readjusting his ball cap.

You straightened in your seat and twisted yourself slightly to get a better look.

“Don’t turn around.” He muttered without looking at you.

You frowned. “Why?”

He never gave you an answer so you did it anyway. A couple of tables over someone was doing a very bad job at hiding their phone.

For God’s sake. 

“Do you want to swap seats?” You offered.

He gave you a startled look, and admittedly you were surprised at your own suggestion. “No.”

“You sure? The back of your head is way less appealing than the front of it.”

You could see the confusion spread across his face and you wished immediately that you could take your words back. He was too wound up to mention it now, but you knew he definitely would in the future.

“They’ve already got about fifteen minutes worth of pictures, there’s no point moving now.” He huffed and readjusted the hat on his head once more, eyes downcast.

You pursed your lips in thought. After a moment you readjusted your seat so that you were hopefully positioned right in the way. Harry gave you a blank look, eyes still darting to the people behind you.

“Do you want to go?”

“Not particularly.”

You knew what he meant. He shouldn’t have to leave just because other people didn’t know how to behave like normal human beings.

A minute later the table behind you stood and left, so something had at least worked.

“Thank you.” He said it so quietly you nearly missed it. “Your lack of subtlety was almost entertaining.”

You weren’t offended by that. You hadn’t meant to be subtle. “I know we don’t get on but I respect your privacy. You should’ve asked them to delete it.”

“Then it just makes me look like a prick.”

“But you are a prick.”

He broke into another laugh. That laugh that held no malice or spite. The one he’d only debuted today. Then he slid back to stoicism. “I’ll be all over the Daily Mail again tomorrow anyway.”

Something weird happened. Anger materialised in your chest, and it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in the slightest. What was unusual was that it came on Harry’s behalf. Usually you felt this way because of Harry, not for him.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay to tell people to fuck off every once in a while, Harry.”

“Not when you’re me, it isn’t.”

“It is when people don’t know how to set boundaries.”

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously.” He readjusted his cap again and sunk further into his seat. “Not the first time I’ve been spotted on holiday.”

“With a mystery woman, no less.”

He snorted. “Sorry in advance.”

“For what?”

“You’re about to become the most interesting person on the planet. I’d privatise your Instagram.”

“It already is. Nor is it very interesting.”

“Just… I don’t know. I know what they’re like.”

“You think I give a shit what a bunch of people on the internet think about me?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Have I ever given a shit what anyone else has thought about me?”

He tipped his head. “No.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s their boundaries I’m worried about.”

“Don’t be. If those pictures do make it anywhere, I’ll have no problem telling the next person to fuck off if it comes to it.”

The smallest smile tugged at his lips. “Then I really hope for their sake that there isn’t a next time.”

~

You hadn’t left the parlour until you’d come up with a solution to your living arrangement. It took longer than you’d like, but eventually you settled for the only option; in two weeks you’d let Harry have the cabin and move into an AirBnB a few towns over. A bungalow this time with a very big bed. You’d had to fork out a deposit since it was a booking of more than 7 nights, which put another lovely dent in your bank balance. You were really trying not to think about it. 

Harry hadn’t passed comment when you told him. He just gave a blank stare and a curt nod, which was very unlike him. When it came to you, he’d never had any problem parting with his opinions.

You’d been ambushed on your way back to the cabin by your brother and Holly. After changing and freshening up you all walked down to the pub together to meet Holly’s Nanna. You had met her at the wedding but only briefly. Your brother and Holly’s special day had been somewhat dampened by the fact that Harry materialised again whenever you forgot about him and ended up drinking yourself into an early bedtime. The next morning you were rewarded with the worst hangover of your entire life.

Nanna was amazing. One of those larger than life women who weren’t afraid to drop the c word a couple of times without so much as batting an eyelid, and using Malibu as an excuse for a good time. You’d been seated on a round table which relieved you to no end. You were sandwiched between Nanna and your brother which meant there was a decent amount of distance between you and Harry.

“I need you to tell me something.” Nanna patted your arm, giving you her full attention.

It was like being addressed by royalty. “Anything.”

“I hear there’s a story about your brother involving nappies and toothpaste. A serial offence. He won’t tell me and Holly conveniently doesn’t know about it.”

You gave your brother a look.

“Please don’t.” He begged.

“But Nanna asked so nicely.”

“You’re about to embarrass me in front of the man I work for?”

You don’t look at Harry. “It’s not like you haven’t managed that all by yourself on previous occasions.”

“Yeah, don’t stop on my account.” Harry coughed, battling laughter.

“Great, we’re all on the same page.” You grinned. You turned back to Nanna, “Once upon a time, my little brother had to sleep in a crib and wear nappies just like all the other babies. He was cute, it should be said. I have a picture on my phone somewhere of him running around the garden with no clothes on.”

Your brother rolled his eyes and sunk into his seat with a scowl. Holly gave him a patronising pat on the shoulder.

“Anyway, beside the point. Like most toddlers he was an absolute tyrant, compared to me - I was an angel.”

“Hard to believe.” Harry muttered.

“Aye,” Nanna shot him a look. She’d been smitten with him all night until that point.

“Don’t worry about it - we’re in an ongoing feud.” You brushed the matter away and continued with your story. “During his reign of tyranny, he adopted a very obscure but passionate obsession with toothpaste. Colgate Cool Stripe only - no other product lived up to his expectations. It all started when, one day, our mother accidentally used adult toothpaste instead of the toddler stuff. An uphill battle began.

“Any time he had to clean his teeth, he’d try and use Colgate instead of the kiddy stuff, and mum or dad would fight with him until he surrendered in a screaming fit and had a toothbrush forced into his face hole.”

Someone sniggered, and your chest inflated. Making people laugh had always pleased you.

“His addiction got so bad, one night he managed to escape from his cot and into Mum and Dad’s bathroom. They found him on the floor with an empty tube and Colgate smushed all over his cute little face. Hours later he had a terrible accident. I won’t go into graphic detail since we’ve just had our dinner.”

Nanna started laughing, a throaty and hoarse sound. Given the amount of times she’d excused herself for a cigarette, you attributed that habit to the unique noise. “And this happened more than once?”

You nodded. “They tried locking it in the cabinet a few times, but he’d always find it. Eventually they changed tactics and just bought Aquafresh instead.”

Nanna hummed and gave him a pointed look. “I’ve always thought you were a picky bastard.”

“Nanna,” Holly gasped, shaking with laughter. She leaned her forehead against her husband’s shoulder.

“I can’t be that picky if I ended up with your granddaughter.”

Holly threw her hands up. “Does anyone else want to bully me today? Between that and being called very stupid I think I might have room for one more insult.”

“Your shoes don’t go with your dress.” Nanna said.

After a beat of silence, the table erupted into laughter.

The waiter returned to offer dessert, which you would usually forego since pubs rarely tended to offer gluten free choices without putting up a fight. You’d learned to live a sad, dessert-less existence. But everyone else was having one so you succumbed to peer pressure.

“What ice cream flavours do you have?”

“For the sundae?” The young girl asked with a confused frown.

“No, I’m coeliac so I can’t have it.”

“Oh,” her cheeks turned pink, which was not your intention, “sorry. Um, just the usual flavours, then.”

Neopolitan.

“Great, can I have two scoops of chocolate.”

“Sure.”

She was very quick to hurry off. Something bothered you about that whole exchange but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Aren’t you bored of chocolate ice cream?” Harry asked, but he was fiddling with his napkin rather than looking at you.

“Never.”

Holly kicked his leg under the table but you pretended not to notice.

After the bill was settled, which Harry tried to sneak off and pay for without telling anyone, you bid goodbye to each other and sent your brother, Holly and Nanna off together in a taxi. The waitress hadn’t stopped giving you wary glances ever since you asked for ice cream, and you still couldn’t place what went wrong. You might have been a little short with her but it wasn’t meant with any malice.

It didn’t really dawn on you what was wrong until you were walking up the hill to the cabin with Harry.

A curdling feeling in your stomach had you feeling very queasy very quickly.

“Oh no.” You mumbled, keeping your gaze on the grass below you. Your vision swung and you struggled to keep your balance.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, turning back to you. He’d been a couple of metres ahead of you for the entire walk so you didn’t have to force a conversation.

You sat down on the grass to keep yourself gravitated, but it was no good. You weren’t nauseous because you were dizzy, you were dizzy because you were sick.

You spent the next ten minutes vomiting into the bushes.

Harry had kept a relative distance from you while you were sick, only handing you a bottle of water when you seemed to give up the last of your stomach contents and take a big breath.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a cautious voice.

Unattractively, you swilled your mouth out and then necked the remaining contents of the bottle. “Yeah, fine.”

“What happened?”

“I think something went wrong at dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

You gave him a levelled look, trying to communicate with your eyes. It seemed like a ridiculous idea considering you could barely communicate together with words, let alone silent glances.

“Ah… did it say gluten free on the menu?”

You nodded.

“Did you tell them?”

You shook your head. Sometimes you liked to put faith in humanity and believe you’d be fine putting yourself in the hands of others. When you were dining with practical strangers, making a fuss about your condition made you feel like a twat, so you kept quiet about it. Now you wish you’d said something.

“Are you gonna make a complaint?”

You shook your head furiously and readjusted yourself to sit back on your arse rather than your knees. “Happens all the time, sadly.”

“That girl knew they’d fucked up, didn’t she?”

“You saw that?”

“I saw you looking at her a lot after the ice cream thing.”

You made a strange noise. “It is what it is. I don’t blame her for not saying anything. For all she knows I could be going home unscathed.”

“But you’re not.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not into making a scene.”

“You could’ve been seriously ill.”

“I know that.”

“If you don’t tell them they fucked up, how are they going to know to stop it from happening to someone else in the future?”

You took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. You and Harry had made progress today, on some weird level, but this was not part of that progress. “Fine. I’ll do something about it tomorrow.”

“No you won’t.”

“Leave it alone, Harry!” You finally snapped. “How I handle my health issues is none of your fucking business, especially when you haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s like to have them. Just drop it.”

His jaw ticked. “Fine.”

He disappeared up the hill and into the cabin without so much as another word.

You collapsed onto your back and let a tight sob wrack through you.

You contemplated what the fuck you were doing. This holiday had been nothing but a shit show from start to day 2 and you didn’t want to do it anymore. You should’ve gone home this morning. You’d refused to quit so early on given how long it had been since you had any real time off, but the universe was clearly working against you and you wished you hadn’t bothered.

As it always did, a second round of vomiting ensued, and you were back on your hands and knees hacking up bile while your stomach protested. You cried more as you threw up.

As the convulsions subsided you collapsed onto your back again, but the smell of it was starting to affect you. Slowly, you stood on shaky legs and attempted to make your way up to the cabin.

You hadn’t realised, but Harry was standing at the top of the hill wearing a frown, hands shoved into his pockets. When you caught sight of him you were ashamed. You knew what he’d said came from a good place, but it just really ground your gears when people who had no idea what it was like tried to tell you how to handle it.

He made his way back to you and silently placed his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and unfamiliar, but you couldn’t work out if the trembling from you was because of that or because you were just sick.

“How much more did you see?” You asked, helpless.

He gave you a startled look, like he was shocked to hear you so vulnerable. “Enough.”

You sighed and kept your gaze on the floor, trying not to fall over.

“Do you have any medication or anything?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t really work like that.”

Once you got to the cabin you headed straight for the bathroom and changed into your pyjamas. You then poured yourself a glass of water and took it to bed with you. You were asleep within seconds.

~

You slept through the night that night. When you woke you felt a shit-ton better than you had the night before, and it left you with a smile on your face. You wriggled your legs and toes underneath the sheets and stretched your arms.

You realised the bed was empty, but when you peeled an eye open it was obvious Harry had slept on his side at some point. You sat up to an empty room. There was no sign of Harry, again.

You didn’t know much about Harry’s daily routine but you would put money on him being an early morning runner. You shivered at the thought.

He appeared whilst you were in the middle of your second round of toast. It was the only thing you could think to try and stomach after yesterday’s disaster. Harry was in regular clothes, not running attire. You owed yourself a fiver.

“Ah,” he paused at the sight of you eating toast, and limply lifted his hand. The same greasy brown paper bag rustled in his grip.

“Don’t be shy.” You patted the table after swallowing your mouthful. “I’ll still eat it.”

“You’re that hungry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what happens when you’re forced to empty your entire stomach contents.”

His nose wrinkled. “Right.”

You took a sip of coffee while he made himself comfortable in the seat opposite you. 

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I slept the night through and didn’t hit my head this morning which is a major improvement on yesterday.”

“That’s something. Do you feel right enough to go out?”

“If I weren’t on holiday I’d be right back to work, Harry. No rest for the wicked and all.”

“Is that a yes, then?” He cocked a brow.

“Yes, Harry.”

“Okay. I was gonna go down to the lake… it’s really warm out.”

“Are you telling me, or is that an invitation?”

He picked his pastry apart. “Both? I don’t know, it might do you some good.”

Concern? From your nemesis? This was bad. “Oh, don’t go coy on me, Harry. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Knew I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“That’s more like it.”

His mouth lifted at the corner for the shortest fraction of a second.

“Is it pebbly or sandy?”

An olive branch.

“Both?”

The worst kind of lake beach, then. “The type that calls for a special type of shoe.”

He grimaced. “I know.”

“It’s fine. We make do.” You pronounced, and stood from the table with your dirty things. “Give me 20 minutes and we’ll go.”

~

“That alright?”

You peered up at the man blocking the sun with a pinched look. He stood before you in a faded white t-shirt and board shorts, holding an ice cream cone with a single chocolate scoop on top.

“As long as it’s the right cone, it’s perfect.”

“I double checked.” He promised as he handed it to you, and then sat with his own.

This was day four on the beach by the lake. While you and Harry spent the time there together, you did your own thing. He spent most of his time in the water like a fucking fish, and you spent yours on a towel with a book and enough food to feed the 5,000.

You’d found a tolerable medium with Harry. In the day you gave each other your needed space, and at night time you tried not to touch each other in bed. Or smother each other. So far it had worked well.

You hadn’t seen Holly or your brother since that night at dinner. They’d actually been visiting for a relative’s birthday party and had already gone home, leaving you and Harry to suffer together.

“I think you’re running low on your special bread.”

You snorted and covered your mouth. ‘Special bread’ made you sound like some kind of escaped lunatic.

“I don’t know why I said it like that.” Harry shook his head. “But the fact remains.”

“We’re running low on a lot.”

“Maybe we should go shopping.”

You groaned. This is what your life had come to: grocery shopping with a celebrity.

“I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

“Where even is the nearest supermarket?”

“I don’t know - I went shopping on the way here.”

“So did I.”

Has there ever been a more ridiculous conversation?

Harry found his phone and checked for signal, soon letting out a soft sigh. “Five weeks without WiFi was a stupid idea.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

You decided to check a map on the notice board outside the public toilets on the lake site and decided there must be a supermarket in the nearest town. Harry drove you out into the Scottish countryside following his sat-nav’s directions to the closest town.

It was a little odd being in the same car as him. While your brother’s work relationship and subsequent marriage had brought him into your life for many a family gathering, you’d never found yourself in quite such a confined space as this. Apart from the bed situation. You were certain he was being quiet on your behalf, because silence was better than small talk. The decision to go shopping had proven that much.

“Unbelievable.” He muttered the second you entered the supermarket.

You followed his nervous gaze to a man with a camera doing a shitty job at hiding. “Go back to the car if you want to.”

“Hardly fair.”

“Being uncomfortable isn’t fair.” You insisted. “Go take a drive and be back here in half an hour. I don’t mind.”

He sighed and handed you the list you’d prepared before leaving. “I’ll be back.”

“Yes, please don’t use this opportunity to abandon me here.”

He smirked. “Don’t put ideas in my head.” He took his wallet out of his pocket and handed you his card. “Use that.”

You frowned at it, and then him in turn. “I don’t mind paying for it.”

“Pay with my card and then send me half when you find signal or internet or whatever.” He turned away, but threw, “Half an hour,” over his shoulder.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself. Now you weren’t grocery shopping with a celebrity, you were using one’s credit card.

Before you started your shopping, you had one more thing you had to do. Stalking the man who was stalking your reluctant companion was easy because he didn’t try very hard to be subtle. You tapped him on the shoulder.

He spun around with a bewildered look on his face. “Yes?”

“Delete them.”

~

True to his word, Harry returned half an hour later with a confusing smile. “Guess what I found.”

You let him take the bags out of your hands to shove them in the boot of his car. “What?”

“A fucking Costa.”

“No way…”

“Yes way.” He grinned.

“Where?”

“Literally around the corner.” He thumbed in that general direction. “I got two ‘cause I didn’t know which one you liked.”

“As long as it’s got coffee in it, I’ll consume it.”

Sure enough, two starkly different iced coffees sat in the cup holders in his central console. 

“Which one do you want?” You asked. He did buy them after all.

“I don’t mind. You choose.”

“Please pick one.”

“No.”

“Harry.”

“Fine.” He plucked one at random and started drinking as he pulled off. “Happy?”

“Yes. Thank you.” And you meant it, too.

Silence settled between you again as you slurped away at your coffee. It was comfortable this time. You put the window down and stuck your arm out to feel the breeze through your fingers.

“Do you ever wonder how we got so…”

You looked over at him with a curious expression, but he never finished his sentence. “What?”

Harry shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Oh, come on, Harry.” You poked his arm. “You’ve never been one to mince your words in front of me before. Don’t start now.”

His lips twitched with a smile, but it was quickly replaced by something else. A kind of sad contemplation. “I don’t want to ruin a rare nice day.”

Now you were the one struggling to find words. Animosity was just the default practice for you and Harry when you were around each other. After so many years of battling over often ridiculous things, he was right. This was a rare nice day. You hadn’t argued once. Come to think of it, you hadn’t argued at all since the day you were sick. That little spat on the hill was the last one.

But curiosity ate away at you. What was he going to say that had the potential to ruin your good time? Knowing Harry, it could be any number of things.

“I promise I won’t lose my shit if you tell me.”

His face lit up with amusement, but he never laughed. “Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Right there, in that single moment, you were reminded just why the world had an obsession with the man sitting beside you. Even in the blandest setting, Harry Styles looked like the man who would promise you everything you’ve ever wanted and be able to deliver it to you. The man who held enough charisma both on and off stage for a hundred other men. The man with pretty eyes and pretty pink lips. The man who looked damn good whether he was clean-shaven or harbouring two weeks of scruff like he was now. The man who would spoil you to no end, who would give you a life of comfort and stability, who would drop everything at a second’s notice to be yours. Fuck, he looked like the man who might even die for you.

You’d seen Harry in love and the man gave his whole fucking heart and soul to the person he was with. His inherent attractiveness was just a bonus.

“Tell me, please.” You tried again.

He considered it for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. Eventually he sighed, “Do you ever wonder how things managed to get so bad? Between us?”

Ah.

A loaded question, indeed.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

He glanced your way, jaw suddenly tense. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t tend to wonder about it because I haven’t forgotten at all how we did.”

“Walk me through it.”

“Are you sure you want that?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the most honest woman I know.”

You were biding your time, mulling over your response. Perhaps this would ruin your nice day, but this was the most open conversation the two of you were ever going to have. Not talking about it would be both a missed opportunity and a disservice to yourself.

“Okay. You’re not going to like it, though.”

“I didn’t expect to.”

You took a deep breath. “The first time I met you didn’t go at all how I expected it to. In hindsight I guess, to you, I would’ve just been a footnote. Your friends have other friends you probably meet all the time and I was just one of the next hundred. Holly and my brother had only just started dating, but Holly and I got on so well we started doing things together as friends without him. She invited me to lunch with… you know, the usual suspects.”

He nodded once, slowly. The usual suspects he wasn’t speaking to anymore for various different reasons. You didn’t keep tabs on Harry’s life by choice, but Holly and the internet provided more about it than you cared for.

“Maybe you were just young. Or maybe there was something different that I just missed or didn’t understand, but you weren’t at all like I expected you to be. Everyone - my brother, Holly, my parents -, everyone said you were amazing. ‘The nicest boy you’ll ever meet’. And sure, you were nice. Charming, even. And you had everyone’s undivided attention, including Holly’s. And mine. But Holly’s more so.

“That girl loves you. And I watched her love you up close and personal and it was amazing and beautiful and I really wanted her to give just even a portion of that love to my brother. And she did, but it didn’t come without a fight.

“I didn’t care that you spent most of that lunch ignoring everyone else at the table. Or maybe I did. I just knew that you only cared about Holly’s undivided attention and she had no quarrels giving it to you. There was a time I thought you might be secretly in love with each other,” you laughed at the reminder because it seemed stupid now, “but when I brought it up with her she laughed so hard she cried and then pretended to vomit.”

“Damn,” Harry produced an offended laugh. “Didn’t know I was that repulsive.”

“Anyway, it didn’t stop her from loving you. Never has. Soon after, I spent a week with her and my brother in Spain on some all-inclusive thing. Before you ask, I was forced to go. Being a third-wheel is absolutely not my style.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think it sounded like you.”

You shook your head. “Not at all. Anyway, I watched Holly send constant photos, messages, gifs, any and all digital media to you while we were on that holiday, cataloguing the entire thing. I don’t think you realise how many times I heard oh Harry’s gonna love this. But what got me is you never replying to her. Not once. Her phone screen was just a sea of blue messages against a backdrop of silence. At one point I considered she’d got the wrong number, but then you texted her the day we left with something really dull and generic and I really wanted to hit you.”

“I don’t remember this at all.” He admitted, face paled.

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’re a busy man. I reminded myself of that a lot to start off with, but the whole thing became a recurring pattern. Maybe you think I’m stupid and it’s a bit of an overreaction for it, but I’m quite observant when I want to be. You’re Holly’s best friend, even if she’s not yours. Every time she says it, it’s like she’s been given the greatest gift in the entire world. And she’s such a bright, incredible person. She’s my best friend. Not just because she’s married to my brother, but because she’s the best person I’ve ever met and nothing will ever change that.

“Over the years I’ve watched countless messages and phone calls from her to you go unanswered, seen her face turn down with sadness when you don’t call her back or text out a reply. She deserves more than that. 

“I’ve noticed you do it to my brother, too. I know he works for you so maybe it’s not the same, but it’s safe to say that in their house, Harry Styles isn’t a name that lights up their phone screens very often. Ever.”

Harry fidgeted a little and cleared his throat. “All this time I thought I’d done something to you.”

“No. Worse. You continually managed to upset my best friend, even if you didn’t know it, and in turn you upset me.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to, Harry. She’ll never admit that she’s hurt by your silence because she doesn’t want to lose you. This is why we’re so very different. I don’t hang around for people who don’t appreciate the good they have in their life. I’m a good person, and Holly is an even better one. She deserves more than your attention when she’s only sat in front of you.”

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“Yes you are.”

His lips twitched again. “The next time I’m in the village with signal I’ll call her. Promise.”

“Don’t promise me. Promise yourself, and her. One day she might snap and decide she doesn’t want to wait for months at a time to hear from you. Because hearing about you through my brother doesn’t count.”

“I know. I get it, I really do…”

“Good. Now, my turn.” You let out a long breath and turned in your seat. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you-,”

“You called me both insufferable and intolerable in the space of five minutes when I got here.”

“Let me finish.” He said, exasperated. “I don’t hate you, I’m scared of you.”

“Calling someone intolerable because you’re scared of them doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. While perhaps you were right, at first I thought you were just another friend of a friend who’d made an appearance for uncertain reasons, it became apparent very quickly that you weren’t going anywhere. It also became very apparent that you were not my biggest fan. That first lunch was one of a kind because you barely said a word. Every other time after that, which I now realise happened to be family-oriented, you hardly shut up.

“I’ve always noticed it. You command the attention of everyone in the room. You’re a storyteller. You could turn an anecdote about a trip to the petrol station into a fairytale. You give everyone in the room your undivided attention, and when I realised you never gave it to me, well… safe to say I was wounded. Holly talked you up to high heaven. Your brother loves you. My own mother loves you even though we don’t get on.

“There’s something about you. And the fact that the only attention you ever gave me was a dirty look or a snippy remark made me petty. So I started giving it back, and I think the more I did it, the more I lost sight of the kind of person you actually are, because I only focused on the side you showed to me.”

He turned into the driveway of the cabin, and you thought he was done. But when the engine shut off, he said one last thing.

“In one of your many little outbursts you said I’ve got a severe case of oosoom syndrome. I never bothered to look it up because I didn’t want to know what kind of idiot you thought I was, but it’s just clicked.”

“Out of sight, out of mind.”

He nodded and turned to you with a calm gaze. “I get it now.” He wasn’t just talking about the idiom.

“Good.”

~

The rain was back and heavier than ever. The ground surrounding the cabin was a swamp, the hill that led down to the village was indiscernible thanks to the downpour, and the day was dark and moody. Inside the cabin it was muggy and humid and you felt ridiculous sitting at the dining table in a vest and denim shorts, but you were.

Harry sitting opposite you looked more rugged than usual. His hair was pulled back with a clip, his stubble was shifting into a beard and his clothes were wrinkled.

“Hmm…” He gave an obnoxious tap on his chin.

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the seat. “Just put me out of my misery and show me your cards.”

He laughed, peering at you with a lightness in his eyes that was so unfamiliar it almost had you shell shocked. “Fine.” He placed his hand on the table showcasing his win.

It was day three of this charade. It hadn’t stopped raining and all you’d done was cycle between card games and Monopoly. He always won. You were so fed up of him winning that this was the last straw.

You stood and swiped his hand off the table so that they landed in a flurry on the wooden cabin floor. 

“Hey…” he pouted.

“That was childish of me, I’m sorry.” You groaned, and crouched down to pick them up. “I’m so bored, Harry. I think I’m going mad. We don’t even have a TV. We’re in the middle of nowhere with a pack of cards missing the Ace of Spades and Queen of Hearts and an old beat up Monopoly box with half the properties missing.”

He blinked at me. “I know this. I’ve been with you the whole time.”

“Sorry.” You muttered. “When I’m frustrated I just state the obvious.”

“But I thought that was my job.”

You rolled your head back and sighed at the ceiling. “I need to do something. Anything. I don’t want to sit in here anymore. I need air.”

“It’s pissing it down.”

“I’m aware. You have a car… just humour me for a bit. An hour tops.”

“You want me to drive you around for an hour? In a smaller space than we’re already in?”

“Okay, fine,” you sat back down in your chair and attempted to plead with the normal side of him, the non-celebrity side, “what if… when me and my brother were little and we went away with Mum and Dad, if the weather was crap like this we’d get in the car and drive to the nearest supermarket. And we’d have lunch in the cafe and then do a bit of shopping and then come back. And we’d all get one thing to bide the time before the weather got better again. Why don’t we do that?”

A smile was forming on his lips. “You want to try shopping with me again?”

“That prick and his fancy camera won’t be going back there, trust me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, what did you do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” You patted his hand. “Please, Harry. Rescue me from insanity.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause you asked so nicely.”

“Yay!” You stood and clapped your hands together. “I’m gonna change.”

Half an hour later you were back at the supermarket in the town over and ready to find as much new entertainment as possible.

“Do you think we should buy them a TV?” Harry contemplated aloud as he stood in front of a large flatscreen.

You gave him a scrutinous look. “And put it where?”

“Good point.” He sighed. “We’re missing Love Island.”

You barked a laugh and carried it down the aisle with you. “That is not what I expected you to mourn over.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

You found your way to the games and books. “Can we get a jigsaw puzzle?”

“Why are you asking me? Get whatever you want, mate.”

You perused the options with as much interest as a car fanatic in a vintage car garage. “Farmyard or harbour? Or circus? Or mountains?”

“Whichever will keep you occupied for the longest.” He said absently, moving down the aisle to the board games.

The circus one had the most pieces and highest level of difficulty, so you plucked the box off the shelf and followed after him. “Have they got the Game of Life?”

He started laughing but never answered you.

“Oh,” you pouted, tapping the spin-off version that was much shorter and way less entertaining.

“Bop-It?” 

“When I was little I completed that.”

He raised a brow at you. “Can you even complete Bop-It?”

“Yes,” you snatched the box off the shelf, “and I will prove it to you when we get back.”

“We’ll see about that.” He whispered, smirking. “We need an actual board game.”

You gazed over the options with the same level of interest as the jigsaws. “You choose. I’ve picked the last two.”

“Absolutely not, I’ll only pick wrong.”

“What’s your favourite?”

“Cluedo.”

“Then get Cluedo.” You pointed at it and walked away.

Two hours later and three books heavier you were back at the cabin and starting your jigsaw puzzle. You and Harry sat on your claimed sides of the table, box lid propped against the window and a selection of snacks between you.

“Where the fuck is the fourth corner?” You grumbled, digging through the box like a cat in a litter tray.

Harry glanced at the box lid, then at the jumbled selection of tiles, and plucked it out without hesitation. “There y’go.”

You blinked at him. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” You pinched it from him and placed it in the relevant corner. “Thank you.”

“A compliment and gratitude? It is a good day.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I’m not very good at the splits.”

That made you laugh, right from the back of your throat. “Have you tried?”

“Many times.”

“For what purpose?”

“I had a thing for my yoga instructor once and she was convinced I could do it so I kept trying just to impress her.”

“My God, you are a sap.”

“Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“It’s nice to know you failed at something for such a pitiful reason.”

He gave you such a megawatt smile you had to look away. “I’m just like any other boy.”

“I can’t believe you had to try hard to impress anyone. It almost doesn’t seem natural.”

“You make me sound like a robot.”

“I don’t think you’re a robot. I just think sometimes things seem to come a little too easily to you. Skills. Work. Friends. Women. Probably men, too. Some of us have to try really hard to get those things.”

“You have friends. A good job. And I refuse to believe people aren’t interested in you… romantically.”

You lifted a brow at him. “Refuse?”

“Are they not?”

“Have you ever known me to be ‘romantically’ involved with anyone?”

“Yeah, that lad you took to your brother’s wedding.”

Colin.

“He’s gay.”

“Oh.” He scratched his nose. “I wondered why he kept eyeing up one of the groomsmen. Your cousin?”

“Also gay.”

“Have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Not since school, no.”

“Have you… are you… you know?”

You gave him another raised brow. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”

He rubbed his hands down his face and groaned. “I’m sorry. Ignore me.”

“Just because I haven’t had relationships, doesn’t mean I’m a virgin, Harry.”

The tips of his ears turned pink. “I think we’ve gone a bit off track here.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

He slotted a piece into place next to one of the corners. You slotted another one in after that. The pattern repeated itself, in silence, for the next twenty minutes.

“When do you go to your AirBnB?”

You met his gaze with a calm expression. “Six days. Five nights.”

“Okay.” He said as he stood. “Are you hungry enough for dinner yet?”

“If you are, we can eat.”

He gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

~~~

Part 2

Talk to me?

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles ou #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fluff imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles angst imagines

[sstormyskyess]

A New Dynamic

author's note: so. this is my first a/b/o fic and uhh i've managed to make it trans! basically in my a/b/o universe people can switch their secondary gender with hormone therapy, just like with trans people and HRT irl, and reader in this fic transitioned from omega to alpha [idk if i explained that perfectly but! please enjoy and also feedback would be nice since i'm new to writing a/b/o]

cw: a/b/o dynamics, smut, male alpha reader, omega gaz, masturbation [from both reader and gaz], general awkwardness because they're exes, knotting

word count: 3500+ [i think this is my longest one shot i've written. uhh may have gotten carried away woops]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick / M!Reader

“Kyle!” You run up to him with a big grin on your face, pulling him into a hug which he graciously accepts. You bury your face into his shoulder and he does the same, his hands holding onto your shirt as though you might fade away if he lets go.

It’s been almost five years since you last saw your best friend from secondary school and your lover up until he left for enlistment. To say you missed him would be an understatement. You’ve kept in touch with one another through letters and the occasional call here and there, but obviously nothing could compare to being face to face again.

All the way home, your hand is on his thigh and you tell him all about what’s been happening in your life recently. A new promotion at work, shenanigans during a fun night out with friends—friends who Kyle would have to say hello to as well—and some new hobbies you’ve picked up. He shared his own stories, though some of the details had to be axed because of their classified status. You were particularly caught off-guard by him recounting the time he fell out of a helicopter and nearly broke his spine, but that was neither here nor there. At least in his eyes.

Once you pull into the driveway and help him carry all his bags inside, he takes notice of something… interesting.  “Are you seeing someone right now, mate?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

You look at him, confused for a good few moments. “...No? Why?” He stares back at you, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Is something up?”

It just doesn’t add up in his head. If you weren’t in a relationship with someone, then why did your house smell so distinctly of alpha? When he thought about it further, he did think something was off at the train station as well. He must’ve been distracted by his joy seeing you after so long, but thinking back on it, you had an alpha’s scent all over you. He must realize that he was looking at you as if you’d grown a third arm so he quickly shakes his head to recover from his stupor.

“You okay, Kyle?” You raise an eyebrow, equally confused as he is. Why would he assume you’re dating someone? That’s certainly something you would’ve told him before letting him stay at your place. It would be fairly awkward to have two omegas under one roof with you, especially when one of them was in a relationship with you and the other wasn’t. There was a definite possibility of… jealousy sprouting up.

“I’m gonna take my bags upstairs, just uh—gimme a sec.” He says quickly, picking up his stuff and heading up to the guest room he’s staying in for the next month. You stare after him, still left a little confused. You figure you can bring it up later. Maybe he was tired from jet lag or something. You check the time, your eyes widening a bit when you realize you missed your hormone injection, going upstairs to your bathroom and getting all your things ready.

By the time the sun set and you both had finished dinner, Kyle is still trying to rationalize what could possibly be the explanation behind the alpha scent wafting around the room and teasing his olfactory glands. It was almost making his head hurt with how enticing it was.

To be honest, you’re not faring any better. His scent never triggered anything in you when you were an omega, but now he just smells so sweet. You hope you’re doing a decent job of hiding the shuffling you’re doing to try and relieve some of the tension growing in your boxers. It would most definitely throw things off to get all riled up for someone you broke up with years ago. It was amicable between the both of you, of course, but it’s been so long since either of you had contact with each other.

You dwell on it a bit more all while trying to keep your attention on whatever TV show it was that he put on. Every time he tried to get more comfortable, though, he either squished your legs closer together or brushed up every so slightly against the bulge in your pants. You start to wonder if he knows what he’s doing. He had to, right? He couldn’t be doing this by accident.

Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you struggle ignoring the way your cock twitches in your sweatpants when he mutters something about how your couch is too lumpy and needs to be replaced before readjusting his legs and hips. His motions press your legs together and a shiver goes up your spine when the cloth of your boxers rubs up against your erection. You groan quietly and clear your throat when Kyle shoots a look your way. “You alright, mate?” He asks all too innocently.

You reach over to the end table to grab your glass of water with shaky hands, taking a long sip from it. “I’m fine.” Your voice is strained when you speak and you quickly set the glass back down before pulling a blanket over your lap as nonchalantly as you can manage.

You stare forward with unfocused eyes before you finally stand up, the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and vanilla permeating around the living room too much to handle. “I’ll—I’ll be right back.” You eke out, going to the downstairs bathroom in a hurry. You don’t see the concern on his face before you’re shutting the door and releasing a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding.

The moment you have your back against the cool tile on the walls, you’re doing everything you can to stave off what you can feel building up against your will. This couldn’t be happening, not now. You couldn’t be going into rut the very day your best friend was finally seeing you again after all this time. You palm at the bulge in your sweatpants, groaning as quietly as you can and tilting your head back against the wall.

Cursing under your breath, you begrudgingly yet desperately yank your pants and underwear down and take hold of your hard cock. You try taking deep breaths to stop yourself from losing yourself to the pleasure. It was so amplified by the remnants of Kyle’s scent that had seeped into your shirt just from him sitting next to him. It’s so much more powerful than it was earlier in the day, so you know your rut is coming.

You’re in there for a few more minutes than would’ve been normal, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when your cum spills all over your fist. It covers your fingers and your softening cock and deflating knot when you give yourself a few more pumps to ride out your orgasm. But it wasn’t enough. You regretfully give in to the fact you would have to turn in early for the night.

After washing your hand off in the sink, you head back to the living room and look at Kyle, who was on his phone, scrolling mindlessly. “Uh, Kyle? I’m gonna head to bed, I’m super tired.”

He sits up and turns to you, tilting his head. “Are you okay? What’s up?” He stands up and starts walking over to you until you put your hands up defensively. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, I think I might be sick. I don’t wanna get you sick too, so I’m just going to bed.” You stumble through your weak excuse, voice cracking a bit when you neared the end of your sentence. You stare at each other for a few more moments before you turn away and rush up the stairs, closing your door a little more forcefully than you would’ve liked.

A couple hours pass and you’ve nearly pushed yourself to the brink of fainting with how many times you’ve brought yourself to orgasm. You’re glad that you had enough foresight to put a towel down before falling down the rabbit hole; if you hadn’t you would have to change your sheets before you went to sleep with how much cum you’ve expended.

Your chest heaves and sweat drips down your forehead. You’ve long since gotten rid of your clothes, now laid bare in the center of your bed. One thing you found after you transitioned from omega to alpha was that your ruts were much more intense than a natural alpha’s was. Your doctor told you it was something about the remnants of your omega biology making your ruts closer to heats.

The knot at the base of your cock was aching with how thick it’s gotten. The amount of blood rushing down there was making you lightheaded, but you just couldn’t stop. Your body won’t let you stop, you need to keep going. You feel like you might collapse in on yourself if you stopped for even a second.

But the muscles in your arm are tiring by the minute and your hand is starting to give out on you. Even thrusting up into your fist isn’t working because your fingers are cramping up from how hard you were squeezing your dick. You swallow thickly, already getting dehydrated, but you’d rather die than make a fool of yourself trying to stumble to the kitchen to get water—plus, Kyle didn’t need to know you went into a rut because of him. So, through all the brain fog, you remind yourself to listen for Kyle in his room to get you an opportunity to get a much needed glass of water.

You’ve long since given up on trying to stay quiet, deciding to forgo suppressing your wanton moans and desperate whines. Every now and then, shame builds up in your gut because Kyle’s name passes your lips, pleading for him despite the knowledge you shouldn’t want him so bad. But you want him anyway, and it almost made you feel too guilty to keep going. Almost.

Little did you know, Kyle’s in the guest room separated by just one wall, and he can hear everything. Every groan and huff and grunt. Every call of his name. And he has his hand in his pants, stroking himself with the same guilt that you’re feeling. He twisted his hand around his cock languidly, his palm closing around the tip with every few strokes.

When he walked past your room on the way to his earlier that night, he got the strongest whiff of your musk that he’d ever gotten, even when the two of you were in a relationship so many years ago. It all finally clicked in his mind at that moment.

He’s heard about people replacing their designation a couple times before, but he never expected you to be one of those people. Through his entire time knowing you, you never expressed any interest in that kind of thing. But quite honestly, he doesn’t care. All he knows is that you were going through a rut and God, did he want to be there to help you.

After he recovers from a couple quick orgasms and cleans up the mess as best he could, he gets up and deliberates for a bit. He could offer you some assistance, but imagine the consequences. He would never be able to live it down if he asked to help you with your rut and you turned him away point blank. The embarrassment would be too much. He sighs and gets himself together to at the very least get you some water.

He knocks on your door with a glass of water in hand a couple minutes later and hears you stumble off your bed with a harsh thud. “J-Just a sec!” You call out to him, trying to pull on a pair of sweatpants as fast as possible after wiping your sticky hand off on the towel.

When you open your door, your skin is practically dripping with sweat and your limbs are shaking just a bit. “Sorry, just, uh—tripped. Y’caught me off guard,” is what you’re able to muster up, but not without a voice crack in the middle. “What did you need?”

He looks almost as embarrassed as you do, with his eyes darting everywhere but you. “Um… I just thought I’d bring you some water.” He offers the glass to you and you take it, knowing at that moment that he’s heard everything you’ve been doing. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip nervously and you clear your throat, trying to stave off that ever-present feeling of guilt that settled in your stomach from the moment you got into bed. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” You mumble, looking at the floor.

The silence is awkward while you stand there in front of each other. You desperately urge the floor to swallow you whole to avoid the question you know he’s going to ask you, but instead you settle for broaching the subject yourself.

“Can you help me with—”

“Do you want me to help—”

You end up cutting each other off and you internally curse whatever higher power put you in this situation. They had to be out to get you at this point.

You shift from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Through all of this tension, your throbbing boner still hadn’t gone away. In fact, it was actually getting worse with Kyle standing barely a foot away from you, forcing his tantalizing scent to fill your nostrils and sending wave after devastating wave of desire through your body and straight to your cock.

He sees your fingers clinging to the door frame where you were holding it to keep yourself upright, the veins in your hand springing to the surface with how tightly you were grasping it. He puts a hand on your still bare chest, making your hairs stand on end from the skin on skin contact. “Here, just—go lay down, okay? You can barely stand, c’mon…” He takes the water from your hand and carefully herds you over to the bed, letting you collapse on it.

He could smell the sex in here; it was overpowering, making his pupils dilate and his mouth water. You pant with little huffs of breath looking up at him with glassy eyes filled with unbridled lust. “Kyle—fuck, please let me fuck you, please,” you groan.

He snaps out of the trance he got locked into from watching you slip your sweats down to let your cock spring free and land, heavy and dripping, onto your stomach. You reach for the waistband of his shorts, tugging on them. He gets the hint and pulls his shirt and bottoms off before climbing onto the bed and sitting on his knees.

You shakily roll over and wrap your arms around him from behind. You lean over him, urging him on all fours. He gasps when he feels your swollen, rock hard cock slide against his slick, wet asshole. Memories of how well you fill him come flooding back as though it was yesterday, sending a shiver down his spine. He mumbles your name and glances back at you when he notices you’ve gone rigid behind him. “Are you okay—”

He yelps when you spear him on your cock all of a sudden, sinking all the way to the hilt. You let out a deep, long moan at the feeling of his hole stretching to make room for you. “Shit—Kyle…” You drag out his name, burying your face in the space between his shoulder blades. “You feel so good, so so good,” you babble on, halfway incoherent with his name on your lips over and over.

Kyle reaches back and rests his hand on your shoulder, trailing it up to pet along the back of your neck and eliciting a pleased grumble in the pits of your chest. You rock your hips back and forth ever so slightly, working him open to make room for your dick for a while. He moans at the way one of the ridges of your cock rubs against his prostate over and over.

When you felt he was ready for you, you start to thrust into him properly, pulling out almost to the tip and then right back in slowly. “Y’feel good, love,” he says, a small quake in his voice and a small smile on his face.

Your lips connect to his neck, nibbling and sucking on his skin roughly, wanting to leave bruises that would last for a good while. You needed to make him yours. He accepts every mark you leave along his neck and shoulders, his smile growing the longer your cock dragged along his walls. You luckily managed to keep teeth away from where you last left your mark on him, narrowly avoiding the sensitive patch of skin.

You start to groan quietly, body shaking from the way you’re tensing your muscles and holding back. He takes notice of your reluctance and looks back at you, concerned. “What’s wrong?” He asks and you whine, your fingers starting to dig into the meat of his stomach where your arms were wrapped around him. “D-Don’t want… to hurt you, Kyle,” you pant, voice breathy. “Not gonna be able to stop myself…”

“You’re not gonna hurt me, love. Don’t hold back, it’s okay,” he reassures you with a soft voice, his tone releasing the tension in your body.

His words renewed the overwhelming desperation clouding your mind. You clench your teeth and, with a deep, rumbling growl, you speed up your pace and your thrusts become rough, merciless. He tosses his head back in surprise and moans your name sharply. The power of your hips slamming into him ends up pushing him face down and ass up, his face getting buried in the sheets.

His moans get chopped up in time with each time you pump your cock into his hole, his whole body getting jostled forward from the force you’re exerting. Goosebumps rise on his skin as your groans reverberate through your chest into his back and your shaft twitches against his walls, all the sensations overwhelming him. To ground himself, he lifts one of his arms up from where it had been laying uselessly by his side and reaches behind him to grab your shoulder.

Kyle feels his orgasm sneak up on him, having gotten lost in the pleasure of being with you again, but in so many new ways. “Shit, love—fuck—I want your knot baby, please,” he cries, tossing his head back. He never imagined he would be asking you for such a thing; you’ve had sex with each other many, many times before, but never like this. This was something else entirely, and it felt so, so good.

You groan in response to his words. You’ve never heard him so desperate before, and it fills you with a deep sense of confidence. It’s not as though you haven’t slept with anyone since splitting with Kyle, but something about him begging for you sent you into a frenzy.

He yelps at the sudden change in pace. You unintentionally forced him down into a prone bone position, your full weight on top of him and your arms pulling him into every thrust. Your teeth latch onto the back of his neck and scruff him with a growl. You vaguely register that you’re trying to say something despite your mouth being occupied, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop, no matter how embarrassing it might be later.

He shivers at the feeling of your saliva dripping down his neck and seeping into the bedsheets, joining the pool of his own drool where his mouth was hanging open from pure ecstasy. Your cock was hitting the perfect angle in this position, flat on his stomach and his legs pinned between your knees. With you on top of him it was easier to feel your swelling knot catching on the rim of his wet asshole. He slowly joins you in your mindless babbling, begging and pleading for you to give him that sweet release.

“I-I missed you so much, love, oh God—please, want you to fill me up, please, please, please—!” He wails when he cums, his spend getting caught under his body and wetting the sheets along with a wave of slick gushing out of his hole past your dick. It was the most intense orgasm he’s had in ages, all because of you.

The clutch of his walls fluttering around you makes you finally let go of his neck and throw your head back with a sharp groan. “Fuck—fuck!” You hiss, squeezing him tighter in your arms and shoving your knot into his tight, wet heat. Your cum floods his hole, filling him up to the brim. He sobs at the warm feeling. It felt so different with your knot added to the mix, stretching him wide.

You relax on top of him, with a heavy sigh, taking hold of him and rolling you both on your sides to spoon him and hold him close. You nuzzle your face in his neck, already rocking your hips into him again needily. It was gonna be a long night, he thinks to himself while running his hands up and down your forearms where they lay against his stomach.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #kyle garrick x male reader #kyle garrick x m!reader #kyle gaz garrick x m!reader #bottom gaz #gaz x male reader #gaz mw2 #gaz mw3 #gaz mw3 smut #gaz mw2 smut #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #mwii #mwiii #mw2 #mw3 #storm's creations #sstormyskyess

[robotsandramblings]

me reading the "new" "canon" heights for the Bad Batch on starwars.com:

nooo thank you, don't like those, i'll stick to the wookiepedia + my headcanons version lol ✌️

i'll save my overall analysis & ramblings for under the readmore

(here's the og thread that brought it to my attention. make sure to read op's corrected version!)

(p.s. the height chart was done by me on heightcomparison.com, it's not an official star wars image -- but the data matches starwars.com)

first off, i will acknowledge that visually, in the show, their heights are always a tricky thing. i've been referencing a bajillion screenshots since i came upon this thread. their comparative heights change in like every screenshot, due to camera angles and/or where they're standing relative to each other. we never get to see all five (5) of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side, in a single straight line, with an eye-level camera shot*.

i'll also acknowledge that i've always just gone off of what wookiepedia says, because it's the closest to an 'official' source that we've ever had -- but it's still not the official source. Here's the wookiepedia version, btw:

and you know what? depending on what screenshot you look at, these can both seem right. sometimes, Tech looks as tall as Crosshair; other times, Tech looks close to Echo's height. (Tech is also rarely at full height -- he's usually got his head and shoulders bent down to read his datapad. i think he slouches too.) i also find Hunter's height varies a lot too, depending on the shot.

Personally, i will be following the wookiepedia version. i think the starwars.com numbers are way, way off. (Warning: here's where the ranting part begins lol)

Wrecker has never, ever been a full head taller than Tech, Echo, or Hunter. what the actual fuck lmaooo

and 7 inches taller than Crosshair?? i don't think so lads

they're tryin' to tell me Echo is shorter than reg height??? bullshit lol. and Tech too??? also bullshit lmao

i refuse to believe Tech is only 2cm taller than Hunter; Tech should be, at minimum, 2 inches taller than Hunter.

i feel Omega's height can vary in the show, like Tech or Hunter as i mentioned. sometimes she seems very small, sometimes she seems taller than i remember.

that all said, i think the height for Omega is correct... for Season 1**. but S2? and now in S3? she's definitely grown a bit.

so i guess if i had to come up with my own numbers, i'd go primarily with the wookiepedia data, with a few tweaks...

Omega**: at least 140cm / 4' 7''

Hunter: 180-181cm / 5' 11''

Echo: 185cm / 6' 1''

Tech: 190-193cm / 6' 3'' - 6' 4''

Crosshair: 193cm / 6' 4''

Wrecker: 198-200cm max / 6' 6''

(i will hold onto Short King Hunter with a death grip until i die. even though i'll admit he looks reg/Echo height in a lot of shots. but i just really love the idea that's he's juuuust under 6' !)

**My headcanon is that in S1, Omega was approximately 10 years old. (which would match with starwars.com data, since average height for a 10-yr-old = 127-137cm.) i'm assuming we're at least 2 years later by S3, so she should be 12, which should put her height at 140-162cm.

i think in the show, they're keeping her closer to 140cm, but i'm equally onboard with her being on the taller side, closer to 162cm. i like the idea that she will eventually grow to reg clone height of 6 feet, thus she'd be on the taller end of "average" child height.

*there is one singular screenshot i came across which might be the closest. however, it's only properly showing the OG four -- Echo is in the shot, but disproportionately in front of them. it's also from their pilot in Clone Wars S7, which arguably was just a beginning stage for them, and changes were made before their own show aired, including the animation style/models.

it would explain where many of us got our idea of Tech = Crosshair same height. but Hunter is also nearly as tall as them?? certainly not 180cm lmao. so idk. take that as you will.

#the bad batch #crosshair #tech #hunter #echo #wrecker #omega #star wars #analyzingsw #sw headcanons #i spent WAYYY too long on this doign research and looking at screenshots lmaooooooooo 😅

[babyangelsky]

BL Challenge 2k24 ✨Day 8✨

Hello and welcome to @negrowhat's 15 Day BL Challenge! Full challenge can be found here.

The Trope You Hate Except When It's "This Series": Forced Separation with a Time Skip Cherry on Top

♡ gif by @radishayuan from this set

Except when it's My Only 12%

This show. This show is the source of the majority of my beef with New Siwaj and yet, I love it beyond words. I really do. It's the third BL I ever watched and it has a special place in my heart. I don't know what the hell P'New puts in his shows that makes them hit like nothing else. I have to be in a very specific mood to rewatch this show but when I get into that mood, I have to rewatch it because nothing else will do.

Now let me just say, I truly and incandescently hate the forced separation trope, but it's so much worse when there's a time skip added in. When it's done poorly, it's usually because the writers wanted to throw in a last second conflict before the end of the show (usually in episode fucking 11) just so they can resolve it in five minutes in the finale. I hate it and it needs to die.

Even when it's not done poorly (because it's rarely done well) it's usually still frustrating and devastating. Like what did I personally do to deserve this? Someone is always going to study abroad or getting transferred abroad or making a deal with someone's disapproving parents or moving to the U.S. and going radio silent for FIVE YEARS GAO SHI DE WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON Y—

*ahem*

But! My Only 12% is the only show I've seen where the separation and time skip don't only work, but are necessary. I just really wish it had been done better.

♡ gif by @loveisactivated from this set

As heartbreaking as Cake and Eiw's separation was—and fuck, it was brutal—I do really feel like it needed to happen. Eiw's entire universe revolved around Cake and his entire sense of self was tied to Cake. Eiw needed to grow and I don't think he would've been able to do so nearly as well if Cake and the comfort zone he provided were there for him to fall back on. Cake's absence didn't only give him the space to become a more self-possessed person, it forced him to become one, even if initially it was for Cake's sake.

Which is why I'm so sad we got to see so little of that separation, and therein lies my beef with New; if the show hadn't turned into an anti-smoking PSA and had everyone crying for the last two episodes, there would've been enough time for both the separation and for Cake and Eiw's relationship to develop after they got together.

Cake wasn't gone for even one entire episode! Yes the time skip needed to be condensed, but the four years they spent apart were an important part of the story! There needed to be more time dedicated to them. If they'd spent just one more episode with Cake and Eiw separated, we could've seen more of their development.

I wanted to see my sweet boy Eiw grow up and become more confident and make new friends and adjust to university. (I also wanted more of him and Title but that's purely selfish because I'm a Title Tanatorn girly and I can't believe I didn't get to see them kiss even once) I wanted to see Cake really coming to terms with the fact that he was always in love with Eiw and with his sexuality. I wanted to see him miss Eiw the way we saw Eiw miss him.

♡ gif by @loveisactivated from this set

Their reunion would've ultimately hit that much harder and been that much sweeter if only we had been given a chance to really sit with their separation.

Not to mention that because the pacing was done the way it was and because we got the ending that we got, we only had like five minutes of Cake and Eiw's boyfriend era before everyone started crying! THAT IS CRIMINAL BEHAVIOR, NEW!

♡ gif by @krystaljungs from this set

Look at them! We deserved to see more of this! We deserved more of them just being happy and disgustingly in love! After all that pain and pining you're only going to give me five minutes of happiness?! You're going to hurt my queer feelings for half a show with the sweetest childhood friends to lovers arc I've ever seen and then drop the ball and not make it up to me?! NEW WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON Y—

#BLChallenge2k24 #cakeeiw #earth katsamonnat #santa pongsapak #my only 12% #my only 12 percent

[tortured-demigods-department]

an unhinged (and unofficial) dissertation on the pjo fandom

so i don't usually post anything that isn't my-works-related, but i had a...mildly heated discussion with a fellow film student tonight about the pjo show and it's got me thinking. bear with me, we'll be here awhile.

as we all know, the first season of pjo has ended. i've stayed relatively OFF tumblr and other social media during this time, but i know there are a lot of OG fans who are (in their words) "massively disappointed" in the show. most of the complaints i've heard have been during in person conversations though, so this post is mostly going to be referencing real complaints i've heard.

i've been a part of this fandom since i was thirteen. that's nearly eight fucking years of my life that i've devoted to the pjo universe. i have written and consumed YEARS' worth of fanfiction, i have read and reread every book so many times i can quote them forwards and backwards, and i went to the bookstore every single year on the new books' release dates to pick up my copies in-person. this fandom, these characters and this world have brought so much joy to my life, and i don't think i could ever fully articulate that in words. when i think of this series, i genuinely feel nothing but happiness.

but a few years ago—around the time i started college—i started distancing myself from the fandom for one glaring reason. this fandom can be such an...angry place? like, genuinely, i don't know how far it goes back—maybe all the way to the release of HoA, honestly—but i wasn't here pre-HoA, so all i know is that i very much remember how much people hated ToA when it came out.

here i was, having the TIME of my life with apollo and his silly little haikus, and people are going to war over how the series' writing quality has gone to shit and how everything was better before, blah, blah, blah. IN SPITE of everything that series gave us—discussion of the repercussions of child abuse and ptsd, representation of lgbtqa+ characters, and deep psychological messages that really teach young readers, i think, how to better understand themselves and their emotions and deal with them in healthy ways. and it just wasn't fun to be in a fandom where, as soon as you go "hey, did you read the new book?" they scoff and roll their eyes and only want to talk about how terrible it is. (i also missed all the discourse on the sun and the star when it came out—PHENOMENAL read, btw—but i've read some things that lead me to believe that it wasn't well received either, in spite of how lovely it was.)

so...it's dramatic to say i "left" the fandom, but i certainly withdrew from it. deleted my pjo ao3 and tumblr, started over with a different fandom. but the love has always been there, and the show starting really helped spark it fully back to life.

but now, the same thing is happening again, i'm noticing. remember back in the day, when we only had the shitty fucking movies, and we were like "man, ANYTHING would be better than this garbage. literally just give us actors who are the right age and we'll be happy." well, now we have PHENOMENAL kid actors who genuinely are having a good time playing our beloved characters, and instead of supporting them, we're STILL complaining about them not being "portrayed correctly"?

i've talked to so many people who complain that percy is "too smart," which is kind of a bullshit insult to percy's canon character. in the books (at least the first five) we're seeing things ONLY from percy's pov. he's a kid who's struggled with learning disabilities and been told he's an idiot all his life by everyone except his mom—but as others have pointed out way more eloquently than i could, percy is a very intelligent and powerful individual while maintaining his goofy fun personality, which is WHY so many people love him so much. he's complex, and i think they managed to capture that really well in the show even amidst all the changes.

don't get me started on the fucking racism towards leah sava jeffries—i'm honest to gods ashamed that there are racists who call themselves pjo fans. she is so talented, and everything we ever could have hoped for in an on-screen annabeth. ALL of the kids are—there's literally no argument to be had there.

and then, if people aren't complaining about the casting, it's the series' writing. or there's too much exposition. rick is changing too many things. the directors don't know what they're doing. it's not a TRUE book adaptation. (someone said that to me, and i genuinely laughed because i thought they were joking. when the MOVIES exist, they wanted to make that comment about the show.)

are there some things i would change about the show, given the opportunity? god, yes. the set design for the underworld was horrendous. (in my opinion, of course.) but here's the thing. i have spent eight years of my life waiting for this show to happen, and in that time, i've learned a lot about how much goes into successfully producing such a complex series. how much money and time is spent, and how many people have to be on board to make it happen. it's genuinely kind of miraculous that we're even getting this show at all, considering all the ways it could have failed before it even made it out of pre-production.

and i think we, as fans, sometimes forget that we aren't owed this. we don't own the percy jackson franchise. it makes me so sick and tired when authors or artists in any capacity feel like they have to cater their works to the masses, because they know they'll get thrown into the fucking fire if they don't. rick and becky riordan didn't have to got to the trouble of producing this show for us. they chose to—everyone involved chose to—because they wanted to make something fun and enjoyable not only for the fans, but everyone who chose to be a part of it.

do you know how insane it is that, when you read pretty much any interview of pjo bts, everyone talks about how fun the production was? i've been on film sets. they can be ABSOLUTELY miserable when they're not done right. but eight months into production, the kids were still laughing and having a good time, everyone's still giving 100%, they're excited, it's fun. walker was willing to go into a diving tank for a full fucking day in order to get one scene—i know i would never have that kind of dedication, and i bet 99% of you wouldn't either.

i know this has gotten really long-winded, but i've said all of that to say that...i'm kind of tired of fans trying to bring down the show, and more than that, trying to bring down each other for having a good time. as i've said before (many times, i'm sure), i waited eight years for this, and i have had SUCH a fun time watching it. assuming we get a season 2 renewal, there are going to be even more new fans coming in than we've already gotten from season 1, and i want this fandom to be a fun and positive place for them. for all of us. we don't have to miserable and angry all time. we can critique the show, sure—it's not perfect, and it was never going to be—but we have to remember that television is an art form, and that art is subjective even when it involves our favorite characters. and we can accept that and still have a good time, because it's just more fun to have fun, you know?

this fandom has always had so much potential to be the BIGGEST, most supportive and kind and loving fandom. with how much representation this series has, with how much content we've been given, with the SHEER massive number of us...i've always thought we could be a really, really great community. maybe it's impossible to hope that we could be the best fandom on earth, but if nothing else...could we all try to just be a little bit kinder? genuinely, as cheesy as it may sound...it's just nicer when we're nice to each other. and when there's so many real things in the world to be mad about...i would much rather this be a place where we can come to at the end of a long day and just...feel at home. personally, i just think that would be really, really nice.

#percy jackson #percy series #percy jackson tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fandom #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #pjo show #pjo fandom #pjo series #me ranting for five million years #i wish i could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy... #she doesn't even go here #with all of that said i'm going to bed #i have class at 8am tomorrow and really should NOT have spent this much of my night writing this

[cdelphiki]

A Rock in a Weary Place excerpt

I haven't done a WIP Wednesday in forever. It's almost Wednesday so here we go. A Rock in a Weary Place is part two of my Clark-adopts-Billy AU and I am so excited about it. I've finally gotten some good work done on it, but since it's a long one-shot (I don't actually know how long, but I wouldn't be shocked if it exceeds 10k) it'll be a while before its done. So here's an excerpt!!!! Of course any and all of this can change between now and posting the final.

-

Clark felt… lost.

For as long as he’d been planning and scheming on how to get Billy Batson off the streets, he hadn’t fully realized what taking a kid into his home would fully entail.

Because, for all the talk about how he’d be more like a roommate to Billy… he also realized that he couldn’t be just a roommate.

He was the adult. He had to be— the adult. And Billy was the kid. Clark was providing for Billy, and that was that.

Which meant, Clark had to cook food.

A lot.

He’d never really cooked before, when it was just him. He ordered food, usually. Or just ate something microwavable. Ma would be upset, if she knew that.

But she didn’t know, so she couldn’t be upset.

If she found out he fed Billy, a “growing boy,” primarily greasy take out and cheap microwave dinners… Well Clark wasn’t sure he’d find a place on Earth safe from her wrath. And since he was Martha Kent’s son, he did know how to cook.

So that’s what he did.

A lot now.

Breakfast and dinner every day, and lunch on the weekends too. Although there had only been one weekend with Billy, so far. Five days in total.

How did five short days feel like an eternity?

“Smallville,” Lois nearly sang, “Yoohoo, hello? Is anyone home?”

Clark looked up from his laptop screen and smiled sheepishly at Lois, where she was leaning over his desk almost between him and his computer. He’d been zoning out a lot recently. “Sorry Lois,” he said, “what did you say?”

“What is up with you,” she exasperated, sitting back down into her chair, across their back-to-back desks from him, “you’re so…. distracted lately!”

“Oh nothing,” Clark said, as he leaned back in his chair, trying his best to give her his undivided attention, “just a lot on my mind.”

“Such as…” she prodded, leaning forward further into his personal space. When Clark didn’t reply other than to offer another sheepish smile, she let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Okay fine, I’ve got a new story for us. You won’t believe it, but there’s competition for Superman.”

“What?” Clark asked.

Lois grinned.“You know that guy from Fawcett? Captain Marvel? He’s been spotted in Metropolis this week.”

Clark resisted a laugh. He had known that, of course. “Really?” he asked anyway.

“Yes, and this morning, you’ll never believe it,” Lois said, as she went ahead and fully sat up on his desk, her arms moving all over the place as she spoke, “I was walking from the garage when this kid walked right out into the road without looking, and Captain Marvel swooped in and grabbed him before he got hit by a car. It was incredible! And I got to see Captain Marvel close up.”

“Did you now?” Clark asked with a grin.

“Yes, and let me tell you, he’s handsome. Superman has some real competition there.”

Clark… wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Billy was just a child. A ten-year-old boy. But Clark couldn’t tell Lois that. How would Clark even know that?

He just hoped he never had to have that conversation with Billy, either. Adults shouldn’t be looking at him as if he were an adult.

But.

That was a concern, wasn’t it? Billy had said so himself. Sometimes he wasn’t a kid. Half the time, Billy was an adult. In form, at least.

They definitely would have to have a conversation, wouldn’t they?

Clark… Clark had no idea how to go about that.

“We should do some scouting this evening. Listen to the police scanner and see if we can catch Captain Marvel, just like we used to do with Superman, remember?”

He nodded absently. That had always been… interesting. Having to come up with excuse after excuse to slip away for a moment, all while Lois was trying her best to see Superman.

No matter how fun that had been, he couldn’t do that again. Because. He had to go home and feed Billy.

Also, Billy probably wouldn’t go out and about that time, anyway. He usually did his work during the daylight, and stayed in at night. Clark hadn’t seen him out at night much at all, not even before he came to live in Metropolis.

“Smallville,” Lois snapped, “Clark. Tonight. Scouting. What do you say?”

Clark looked back at her and tried to look regretful as he said, “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Can’t?” she exclaimed, scowling hard, “Why not?”

“I have plans,” he said simply.

Because he did. Feed the kid.

“Plans with who,” she demanded, “You haven’t been available all week!”

He spluttered and held his two hands up in surrender. “It’s not like that. I’m just busy. Besides, has Captain Marvel been seen after dark much anyway?”

Lois narrowed her eyes, but then sat back as she clearly thought it over, then muttered, “Hm. I wonder if he gets his strength from the sun or something.”

“Hey, maybe,” he said, as he pushed his chair back and stood up. He shut his laptop and slipped it into his bag before he grabbed his coat and said, “I’ve got to get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow. We can talk more about this new hero tomorrow.”

He felt mildly bad he’d blown her off three times already. He’d only had Billy for five days, and three of those days he’s had to blow Lois off.

They used to spend almost all day together, weekends to. Clark already missed that…

“Yeah, yeah,” Lois said, as she slid off his desk and returned to hers, “go do whatever. Tomorrow we’re scouting for Captain Marvel, Kent, don’t forget it.”

#I am basing Clark and Lois both off of the show Lois & Clark #also clark's parents #who are characters in the story #:D #i love that show #wip wednesday

[kllingdaddy]

my heart's marked with your name

Pairing: hotchniss

Words: 1.5k

Desc: Emily and Aaron attend one of Elizabeth's galas, and Emily realizes she doesn't need her mother's love and approval in order to be happy.

Her mother hosted galas quite often, mostly for no reason. She just wanted to show her friends and guests how wealthy and perfect she was because she was the ambassador. Emily remembered her days being thrown into the spotlight as young as ten years old, always dolled up in pretty dresses and forced to smile at whoever graced her with their attention.

Now it's twenty-five years later and nothing has changed. She's still adorned in a pretty dress the color of blood, though with no ruffles, unlike the dresses she wore as a child. And she's still forced to smile as if she's on camera, pearly-whites on full display.

Except this time she has someone with her, someone who makes having to deal with her mother a bit more bearable. She glances up at Aaron through her lashes, biting her lip to hold back a lovesick smile. She's so in love with this man it's actually ridiculous. As cliche as it is, her heart feels like it's about to burst whenever she looks at him.

He's clad in a suit and tie; nothing new about that. He looks devastatingly handsome as always, and Emily catches so many stares from hungry women who look like they want to eat him up. Jealousy stirs in her gut, but luckily Aaron isn't paying the strangers the least bit of attention.

Not that she'd expect him to. Ever since they got together he's had eyes only for her, every other woman be damned.

"These heels are hurting my feet," she complains in a whisper, her breath tickling his ear.

He smirks that devilish smirk of his. "Want to trade shoes, sweetheart?"

She snorts, knowing it goes beyond unladylike but not able to bring herself to care, even though her mother is just a few feet away. As tempting as it is to trade shoes with him, there's no way she'd make him go through the whole evening wearing her six-inch heels. He'd do so if she asked, though, which makes her love him even more.

"No, it's okay," she smiles lovingly up at him. Even in six-inch heels, he still manages to be taller. "I'll just smile through the pain."

"It'll be over before you know it," he promises, planting a kiss on her temple.

"Emily!" Her mother's voice of excitement is entirely fake, and Emily winces as she's pulled into a hug that's solely for the eyes around them. If they were alone, she wouldn't act nearly this nice. "Oh darling, how I've missed you!"

Emily returns the hug with as much fake-enthusiasm she can muster, meeting Aaron's eyes over her mother's shoulder. He offers her a reassuring smile and she swallows down a sigh.

When her mother finally pulls away, she assesses her with those judgemental eyes of hers. Emily can tell it's killing her not to say anything criticizing. She watches her mother bite her tongue, keeping up the fakest of smiles.

"You look lovely, darling," she says eventually, not even trying to sound genuine. Her eyes land on Aaron, who's been silent during their whole exchange. "And you must be Aaron. My daughter has told me absolutely nothing about you."

Even though they have been dating for six months now, her mother hasn't met Aaron. Until now, that is. Emily was worried her mother would drive him away with her offhanded remarks and dirty looks, but Aaron had assured her that such a thing was impossible. He is in it for the long haul, he'd said. She believes him.

Aaron, being the utmost gentleman he is, extends his hand for Elizabeth to shake, keeping his polite smile present on his lips. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Prentiss."

Emily's eyes narrow at her mother, daring her to comment on Aaron, although she can't understand how someone would be able to find a flaw in him. He's the most perfect man she's ever met.

"Likewise, Aaron," her mother nods, shaking his hand. "I'm glad my daughter has finally decided to settle down. I had tried to set her up with many suitable men, but she'd refused. Now I suppose I know why."

Aaron just smiles courteously. Emily spots a flash of irrita tion in his eyes, but it disappears before her mother spots it as well.

"Well, I'll let you two mingle," Elizabeth says, planting a stiff kiss on Emily's cheek. "Enjoy yourselves."

As she strolls off to catch up with her exuberant friends, Emily sighs. She feels Aaron interlock their fingers and she looks up at him through thick lashes, managing a small smile despite the hollow feeling growing inside of her chest.

"We can leave if you want to," he murmurs softly.

She shakes her head. She'd love more than anything to walk out of her mother's manor right now, but it would just cause issues that she doesn't have the energy to try to resolve. "No, I'm fine. I'm just gonna go get a drink; God knows I need one."

***

Quickly, one drink turns into three, and it's a revelation that Emily is definitely not proud of. But when your mother constantly comes around to berate you under her breath about both your weight and your job, three drinks hardly seem like enough.

Comments like "oh darling you really should go on a diet, you're looking a little plump" and "are you still a cop? I could get you a much better job" ring in her ears no matter how hard she tries to drown them out. To others who don't know her mother very well, it would seem like she's just trying to be a nurturing mother, but Emily isn't new to this. It's jab after jab, a punch to the gut over and over again. The bruise never heals, she just learns to ignore the sting.

She downs another glass of wine and catches the sideways look from Aaron. She can tell he wants to say something but can't bring himself to. He's been a supportive boyfriend all night, reassuring her that if she wants to go home they can, yet she stays fueling the fire. She has no idea what she expects to accomplish from staying at the gala. Maybe she thinks that at some point, her mother will miraculously change into a better person. But that's simply a fantasy.

Deep down, she just wants her mother to love her. She wants to be cherished and told how special she is. Aaron does exactly that, and she adores it, but she wants that kind of love from her mother, the one person who's supposed to love her unconditionally.

As she stares at her mother chatting with her friends across the room, the painful realization that it's never going to happen slowly sinks in.

"I wanna go home now," she slurs, her body swaying from the alcohol.

Aaron steadies her, allowing her to rest against him. "Okay, sweetheart. We can go home."

He doesn't ask her if she wants to say goodbye to her mother before they leave; he knows the answer just by looking at her.

On the drive home, they don't exchange many words. They just sit in silence. She knows Aaron understands, because he always understands her, but guilt eats away at her anyway.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles as he guides her into the house, making her hold onto him so she doesn't stumble and fall.

He flicks on the light and looks down at her. "For what?"

"For tonight," she sighs. He helps her up the stairs and gently undresses her until she's standing in her undergarments. As he slips one of his t-shirts over her head, she continues. "I guess I jus' thought it would be different. That she would...I dunno, treat me like her daughter for once."

Aaron frowns, a strong dislike for Elizabeth stirring in his gut. He's never met the woman before tonight, but everything Emily has told him about her has been true. She isn't anything like the mother she deserves. It makes his heart ache to see her so distraught, drunk out of her mind to numb the pain she feels.

"You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart," he soothes, bringing her into his arms and kissing the top of her head. "None of this is your fault. Your mother doesn't see what's right in front of her: a beautiful, strong, independent woman. She doesn't deserve you."

Emily smiles against his chest. She breathes in the scent of him and sighs. "I'm so lucky to have you."

He chuckles, stroking her hair with nimble fingers. "I think I'm the lucky one, Em." She raises her head to look up at him, and he kisses her forehead.

"I love you," he tells her once they're finally settled beneath the covers, snuggled up to one another. His hand falls on one of her legs that's thrown over him, and it slowly travels up to her thigh. "So much. You're perfect; I don't care what your mother thinks, and you shouldn't either."

She beams at him, her chest blooming with warmth. "I love you, too."

And as they fall asleep together, limbs tangled and hearts in sync, every snide remark and disappointed look from Elizabeth fades away.

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #hotchniss #aaron hotchner #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction

[apuckishwit]

“Don’t look yet but-“ for Steddie?

"Don't look yet, but..." Eddie trails off, his hand slipping from Steve's as he takes a few steps away, his boots crunching over gravel. Steve keeps his eye onediently closed, as he has since Eddie asked him to a few miles back.

He might not have been able to, once. Wouldn't have been able to just shake his head with a fond smile, leaning back against the seat and just relaxing while someone drove him to God knows where, for God knows what. Wouldn't have been able to just laugh when that someone pulled to a stop and told him to take their hand, wouldn't have been able to just follow, nothing more than a 'watch your step, sweetheart, ground's kinda rough' to clue him into his surroundings. He'd almost forgotten what it was like, not having to look constantly over his shoulder. Not having to be so terribly, terribly alert, always in all ways. Always bracing for the next blow, the next crisis, the next loss.

The Upside Down has been gone for years, sealed and closed and gone, and he's only just started to be able to let down his guard, let go of his readiness, let go of the man it made him into. The kids--not kids anymore, Erica is a senior this year, they've all grown up and moved on, but they'll always be his kids--have helped. Eddie has helped. He's as close to healed as he's ever going to get these days, as close to 'normal' as he's ever going to be, and he owes so much of it to his friends. To the man he can feel standing just in front of him.

As if sensing his thoughts, he feels Eddie's calloused fingertips just barely ghosting over his cheek, sliding down the long white scar that runs from his temple all the way down to tangle across his throat (he'd nearly died, but the demogorgon would have gutted Lucas if Steve hadn't shoved him out of the way...it was worth every ounce of pain, every permanent reminder left on his body). He smiles when Eddie thumb swipes over his lips, pressing against the bottom one just gently.

"You're so pretty," he says, reaching up now with both hands to cradle Steve's face. "I'm the luckiest bastard in this whole goddamn town."

He snorts, still keeping his eyes closed. "Shallowest too, apparently." The words are teasing, though, and he turns slightly to press a kiss into Eddie's palm. "Can I look, yet?"

Eddie's hands tighten briefly on his cheeks, and then his boyfriend backs away, gravel crunching under his boots again as he starts pacing. "Okay, so, despite what it's gonna look like, I need to preface this by saying I have absolutely no expectation and I don't want to pressure you. You can, uh, you can say no. I really, really want you to say yes, but nothing changes between us if you say no. Okay?"

"Eddie, Jesus Christ, are you proposing? Cause if I get engaged to my boyfriend before Robin gets engaged to her girlfriend she might actually kill me...like, we beat her to every other milestone and I've only known I was queer for, like, five years and she's been doing it her whole life and--"

"Okay, I know this is about your whole weird, one soul in two bodies thing you have going with Buckley, but what I'm HEARING is that you'd totally say yes if I was proposing. I'm not, by the way. Robin WOULD actually kill us."

"Well good. But for the record, I'd say yes."

"Even if it wouldn't be real?" Eddie asks softly, that quiet wondering note he gets in his voice sometimes when Steve does or says something that reminds him that Steve is just as in this thing between them as he is. Like he can't believe it, like he can't understand how he got so lucky, when really it's the other way around.

"It'd be real to us," Steve says, just as softly. "It'd be real to everyone that matters."

Eddie kisses him, then, fast and hard and overwhelming, and he almost opens his eyes, almost spoils whatever surprise his boyfriend has cooked up.

"Okay. So...okay," Eddie says when he pulls back again. "So, you remember when I went up to Indy to fill in for the guitarist in that band that Jeff's cousin is in?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, turns out there were a couple people in the industry at the show. One of them got my number from Jeff's cousin and, well, they want me to come to LA to work for their label."

Eddie's hands come up to cover his eyes as they pop open, just a flash of blue sky and the shadows of what look like several large vehicles before he's blinded again. He grips his boyfriend's wrists.

"Seriously?! Holy shit! Eds, that's everything you've ever dreamed of! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Cause I wanted to be sure they were legit. It's not a record deal or anything--I'd be working in their studio doing backup instruments, maybe some sound mixing. Basically, I'd be an in house guitarist. But they've got some decent names signed with them. There'd probably be opportunities to tour with some of the bands. It's...it's a foot in the door, basically. But it's a really good opportunity. The pay's not great to start, but...uh...I think it'd be doable. Especially if I had someone with me."

His hands slip from Steve's eyes and Steve is left blinking in the dazzling October sunlight.

They're standing on a used car lot, surrounded by RV's. Eddie has led him to stand right in front of one of the smallest--really just big enough for two, maybe three people. It's definitely an older model. Dirty and a little beat up. But the price written on the sign taped to the window is pretty reasonable and Steve knows Eddie wouldn't even look at it if it didn't have a good engine.

"Lady Applejack is graduating this year. They've all gone on to their own adventures...and I'll always make sure we have enough to hop on a flight immediately if any of them need us. But, uh, I think...I think it's time I went on an adventure too. And I really want you to come with me, Stevie. In fact--I don't think I can do this without you."

And there's really only one answer, isn't there?

"Bill," he says decisively, laughing when Eddie frowns in confusion. He gestures toward the RV. "We have to call it Bill...like the pony?"

The confusion clears, and he's suddenly got an armful of Eddie. "You know how I get when you talk nerdy to me!"

#steddie #stranger things #my writing #fic prompt #prompt fill #Ugh this is so soft #I love that for it

[askmadcomcrew]

Howdy everyone! It's me again Zep, back with another update. Hope the new Year has been treating you guys well. Can you believe that January is already almost over? I sure can't.

And speaking of time, this blog will be a year old in April. A whole year! Absolutely crazy to think about. I'll try to drum up something special for the one year anniversary. This blog deserves it.

But, as you all have probably noticed (those of you who have stuck around that is. Thank you for that, by the way.) this blog has been... Quieter. Long gaps of time between posts (I think the longest was nearly a week?) And generally much less activity overall. This is mostly because incoming asks have slown down to a crawl of sorts. Most recent one was four days ago as of writing this.

At this blogs peak I was waking up to sometimes 20 or more asks in the box. Now I'm maybe getting four or five a week, on a good week. It's unfortunate, but ultimately something I expected back when I started this blog.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I never expected this blog to last more than a week. Now it's made it to almost a year. We're almost at 2,000 asks answered at the time of writing this. That is something to be proud of.

Thank you all for sticking around and engaging with the blog as much as you have. Without you, this blog would have actually died in a week. It survives entirely off of you and your submissions.

But with that being said, I don't really see things picking up again anytime soon. Madness Combat simply ain't as popular as it once was on Tumblr. Can you believe the tricky mod for Friday night Funkin was 3 years ago now? It's amazing that hype train has lasted as long as it has, but of course things are getting quieter again.

But don't worry, this blog ain't going anywhere. I'm not deactivating or moving on. The ask box will remain open and I'll answer them still when I can get around to them. Things might be slow, but we ain't dead. This blog will remain up for as long as Tumblr does, and I will have archives of the blog downloaded on my PC in case I do decide to close up shop.

But I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you. Thank you for keeping the fire lit for as long as you have. This blog is always open to you, come by, sit down, ask a few questions, scroll for a while. We'll be here for you to answer whatever you give us, and we're thankful for any likes or reblogs you'll give us.

If you wanna see more of this blog though, please consider sharing it with your friends and other communities. I'm always happy to answer more asks. This is the most fun I've had on Tumblr in a long time.

Anyway, this post has gone on long enough. Just giving y'all a little status report.

#blog update #madness combat

[arielhopepeace]

Sorry this part took a bit! Been getting ready to move and now I’m sick lol 😭 but enjoy and check part 1 for more extensive TWs, please ❤️

TW: smut, dirty talk, talk of sexual trauma

18+ only

5,400 words

Part two

My leg bounces about anxiously beneath my desk, constantly checking and re-checking the clock in the bottom right hand corner of my computer screen. It's nearly five, and I'm more than ready to go home and enjoy my weekend. But as every day passes, I become more apprehensive about my date with Joel tomorrow.

Of course he was wonderful, kind, a damn good kisser, and hot beyond belief, but I'm still terrified. Without any sedative-like influence from the alcohol, I'm back to the withered shell of a woman I was when Joel walked into my office.

I can't believe I was fully prepared to sleep with him the other night. I had convinced myself that I was safe enough to do something like that with him, and I'm glad I didn't. What if I kiss Joel again and I panic? Or what if we're ever intimate and I panic? What will he do? Laugh in my face and continue anyway?

No, not Joel. He's too sweet for that, right?

Obviously my libido is calling the shots rather than my rational anxiety. It's been eight years since I've slept with anyone, and I'm jumping into this way too quickly for my liking. Am I crazy? Next time I'm with him, I'm not drinking any alcohol. I need to be myself and not a sedated, sex obsessed freak.

My eyes flutter closed, my lashes dancing against my cheeks as I recall Joel's hands on my body, and his soft, skilled lips against mine. Of course he was eager, he's a man. Is that why he fixed my washer? To get laid?

Part of me is tempted to go off on him for being such a disgusting pervert, but he hasn't done anything to me. My mind is fabricating all of these scenarios and reasons for his kindness when even I know it's probably out of character for Joel.

He's a single dad who lost his wife nine years ago, and who's devoted to his daughter who he's crazy about. Joel seems to be an incredible father. There's no way a man like that would ever try to hurt me, is there?

"Y/n?" I hear from my open office door.

"Yes?" My eyes snap up to see Cynthia, my secretary.

She smiles wide at me. "Are you done for the day?"

I gaze down to see that it's ten after five, meaning I've been sitting here spiraling over Joel for almost twenty minutes.

"Yes," I sigh with a smile. "More than done. I'm ready for the weekend."

Cynthia walks beside me as we leave the building, our cars being parked next to each other's outside.

"You have any exciting plans?" she asks with a large grin.

I decide to not tell her about Joel. "Nah, just me and my wine. You?"

"Ex-husband has the kids this weekend, so I'm probably going to be doing the same as you," she giggles. "Get home safely, y/n, okay?"

"Thanks, Cynthia. You too."

  When I get home, I see a lovely bouquet of flowers sitting on my doorstep along with a note. I beam as I unlock my front door, placing the flowers on the kitchen counter and fishing the little card out of the leaves.

Y/n

I'm excited for tomorrow night. I hope you enjoy these flowers as much as I enjoy your company.

Joel

My face aches as I hold the card to my chest, feeling like I'm in a movie or something. I read the note several times, my mouth curling up wider and wider every time. Who knew my cheeks could stretch this far?

I carry the flowers into my bedroom, setting them on the nightstand beside my bed with the card leaning against the pretty blue vase.

I immediately press on Joel's contact, hoping that he's done working for the day. With every ring of the line, my apprehension climbs, until I hear that low, inviting burr of Joel's voice.

"Hey, you," he says sweetly. "I'm assuming you got my gift."

My cheeks burn as I beam at the floor. "I did. Thank you. You didn't have to get me anything, you know."

Joel chuckles lightly. "I wanted to."

The line goes quiet for a moment before Joel speaks again.

"Can I be honest with you?" he asks.

My heart jumps into my throat. "Of course."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, y/n."

"Same here, honestly," I laugh sheepishly. "I feel like I'm going crazy."

He laughs, the sound warming my chest. "You know, I haven't been on many dates since my wife passed. Maybe only two."

My brows raise in surprise. "Really? How come?"

"Never felt right."

I chew on my bottom lip nervously. "But it does with me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, "very right."

"I guess I should be honest with you too and tell you I haven't been with anyone in eight years."

"What?!" Joel chokes out. "Why? How?"

I swallow hard, shaking my head. "I'd rather talk about it in person. It's—awkward."

"You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n. You never have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

My eyes feel misty at his comforting words, but my mind is screaming at me to keep my walls up. "Thanks, Joel."

"Of course, y/n. As I said, you shouldn't be thanking me for the bare minimum. I'm sorry for whatever guy made you think that's all that you deserve."

Deciding to change the subject before I panic, I quickly swallow my fear that's clawing its way up my throat. "Uh—what time should I meet you tomorrow? And where are we going?"

"I could pick you up, if you want. I'd like it to be a surprise." He audibly smiles in his words.

I can't help but giggle. "Okay, that's fine. Could at least tell me the attire?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Casual-slash-nice? I'll be wearing a button-down and some jeans. Nothing too fancy."

I nod my head, planning my outfit already. "That sounds good to me. What time will you be here?"

"Six-thirty okay with you?"

"That sounds perfect."

"I'll see you tomorrow then, y/n. I have to attempt to make a good dinner for Sarah and I. I told you I was a shit cook, but I do practice so that she's not eating crap food all the time."

I laugh, flopping onto my back on my bed. "You're a good dad, Joel."

"I do my best."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, y/n."

We hang up, and I toss my phone to the side, staring at my ceiling.

Am I making the right choice by going out with him? I won't have any way of getting home if things go poorly, or if he switches and is no longer the man I'm assuming he is. What if he's exactly like...him? I hate saying his name, or even thinking it. Joel can't be evil like him, can he?

***

  I'm straightening out my powder blue sundress when there's a knock on my front door. My hands are shaky and I feel like my knees are going to buckle at any moment. Taking a steadying breath, I pull open the front door, revealing a stunning, handsome Joel before me.

He's donned in a black button-up as he said, and dark blue jeans with black dress shoes on his feet. His hair is lightly tamed with some gel, adding a bit of shine to the  deep brown strands.

I feel winded at his appearance, and I'm suddenly hoping he feels the same about me. I've done my makeup to the best of my ability, and even went the extra mile to straighten my hair. Even with my heels on, Joel is still taller than me, and I don't know why I enjoy that so much.

"Wow," he breathes out, still standing on my doorstep. "I can't believe you're my date tonight."

My heart soars as I blush, looking down to my floor to try to focus my gaze elsewhere. "Thank you. You look amazing, Joel."

He scoffs. "Next to you, I look like a bum."

I giggle, meeting his soft brown eyes and the straightness of his teeth. "Are you ready?"

Joel nods, reaching his hand out for mine. "If you are."

Tossing all of my anxiety and negative thoughts aside, I grab his hand, locking my front door behind me as he leads me to his truck. He opens the door for me and helps me in, his hand letting go once I'm settled in to the passenger seat.

My eyes follow him as he walks around the front, getting in beside me behind the steering wheel. We gaze at each other for a moment, my focus falling to his delicate lips that I've missed the feeling of, no matter how hard I've tried to deny that fact. I want to want him without feeling afraid, but I can't help it.

"Kiss me," I say gently.

Joel immediately leans forward with his hand on the back of my neck, pulling me into him firmly. His lips are so soft, and his tongue is back again in its eager, talented way. I can't help but moan, his tongue the match that struck across my body to wrap it in delicious flames.

He pulls away, both of us a bit winded from the kiss. "How the hell do you kiss like that if you haven't been with anyone in eight years?"

I giggle slightly as I shrug. "You're a good guide."

Joel chuckles and leans fully away, holding his hand out for me as he keeps the other on the steering wheel, pulling away from my house. I gently slide my fingers into his, feeling euphoric and safe in his truck with him.

Not seeing him for a few days has only made my attraction grow tremendously. How does he melt all of my fears away just by being around me? Nobody has ever done that for me before, or maybe I just never let anybody try. Why am I letting him in?

  We park in front of a swanky restaurant, one that I've always passed, but never eaten at. It's New Orleans style food served in a comfortable, yet classy environment. I've always wanted to try it, but it seemed odd to come here alone, even though that's what I prefer.

Joel holds my hand as we walk in, the host guiding us to a table once he tells her the name for our party. The air smells heavenly. It's like Cajun food and Texan food had a baby and this restaurant is the outcome. God bless whoever came up with this place.

The server orders our drinks, and I opt out of getting wine. Joel orders an appetizer for us, my eyes scanning the menu as he does.

"No wine?" he sneers playfully at me. "Thought you were a wine lover."

"I am," I laugh, "but I'd like to be more connected this time."

Joel nods. "That's why I didn't order any beer. I still have to drive you back home, too."

Against everything my brain is telling me, I reach beside me at the table and rub Joel's thigh gingerly. I keep my eyes on the menu, my hand shaking as I bring it to a stop against his pants.

Joel reaches down and grabs my hand, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss against it. My gaze moves from the menu to his, seeing the slight concern etched into his face.

"Y/n," he says gently, "you're shaking again."

"I'm sorry," I say quickly. "I guess I'm nervous."

"About what?"

I shake my head. I can't tell him about my traumatic past on our first date, can I? He'll think I'm crazy and divulging way too much information for someone I barely know. It's not like me to open up, but I feel compelled to with him. I want him to know that it's not his fault that I'm so fucking terrified all the time.

"I don't know," I say softly. "I'm sorry."

Joel's brows knit together with worry. "Do you want me to take you home?"

God. That simple question has my anxiety skyrocketing down; that reassurance that if I need to leave at any given moment apparently being all I needed to calm down.

I give him a warm smile, leaning across the corner of the table to place a gentle kiss against his stubbly cheek. "No. I want to be here with you."

He beams at me, kissing my knuckles again. "You're not shaking anymore."

"I know," I beam, turning back to the menu. "Everything sounds so damn good. What are you thinking about getting?"

"Honestly the gumbo sounds amazing, and I've never had any."

"Ooo," I coo, nodding. "That does sound good."

  After our food is brought out, Joel takes a generous bite of his dish as I dig into mine. The flavor of everything bursts in my mouth, and I let out a moan of contentment. It's incredible, and I can't believe I've never eaten here before.

Joel holds out his spoon for me with his steaming food piled onto it. "You've gotta try this."

I lean forward and take the spoon between my lips, groaning with a nod as I enjoy the taste of his meal.

"God, that's amazing." I pierce my own food with my fork, holding it out for Joel. "Now try mine."

Watching his lips slide across my fork does something sinful to me, and I'm not entirely sure why.

"This might be the best food I've ever had," he beams.

"I can't believe you haven't eaten here before. This is my favorite restaurant."

"It felt weird to come here alone," I laugh, placing my fork down to sip my water.

Joel eyes me with a glimmer in his eye. "Well, now you don't have to."

My cheeks warm as I break the eye contact, unable to hold it any longer. Although his eyes are kind and gentle, there's something so intimidating about them. Maybe it's because I'm so attracted to him, but god I can't look into them for too long.

  We finish our meals and I go to pay, but Joel quickly grabs my card from me, slamming his down into the checkbook instead.

"Absolutely not," he shakes his head as we both laugh. "You can be a control freak all you want on your own time, but I'm paying for dinner tonight."

I giggle loudly, crossing my arms as I do my best to act offended. "Only I can call me a control freak."

He holds up his hands in defense. "I was only quoting you"

I playfully shove him, watching as the server walks away with the bill. "I want to pay for the next date."

Joel leans on the table on his elbows, handing me my card back. "Oh, there's going to be a next date?"

My eyes land on his, admiring the deep chocolate river that flows in them. "Yes."

"Maybe I like that you're a control freak," he beams, his eyes floating down to my lips. "It's charming."

"Charming?" I guffaw. "You don't think I'm crazy?"

"Of course not," he laughs. "Everyone has their quirks, and I want to learn all of yours."

My gaze softens. "Really?"

Joel nods. "Really."

  Back at my house, Joel walks me to the front door, giving me a long, lingering kiss before I unlock it.

"Would you like to come in?" I ask somewhat timidly.

He nods with a smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "We could watch a movie again, if you wanted."

I beam. "I'd like that a lot."

We enter my house, and I immediately kick off my heels, picking them up by the backs and carrying them into my bedroom. I put them away where they belong, checking my reflection in the mirror to make sure I'm tidy and presentable enough for Joel.

He stands near the couch, my eyes flicking down to his shoes. "You can take those off if you want."

Joel chuckles. "Do you not like shoes on in the house?"

I smirk, walking up beside him. "No, not really."

He laughs, bending down and slipping his shoes off to leave them by the front door near the little entrance carpet.

We sit on the couch, my thumb clicking on the remote to go to any streaming service.

"Do you have to be back to Sarah any time soon?" I ask, suddenly worrying that I'm taking up too much of his time.

"No," he smiles. "I told Mrs. Cheshire that it might be a late night. She knows I'm on a date."

Hearing him say that makes me beam vastly, gazing into his soft eyes. "Yeah, you are."

Joel chuckles, leaning in and placing a soft kiss to my cheek. "What do you want to watch?"

"Anything. How about I stop being a control freak and let you pick?"

He laughs, nodding as he takes the remote from me. "Any particular genre you like to avoid?"

"I'm good with anything, really." My eyes admire his beautiful profile. "You pick."

Joel ends up landing on a rom-com, making my lips tweak up as I giggle. He laughs with me, throwing his arm around my shoulders as I lean into his chest. He smells incredible; the scent warm and musky yet clean. I inhale him deeply, needing more of him.

My head turns up to face his, admiring the stubble along his jaw. Joel flicks his gaze down to look at me, giving me a gentle smile.

"What?" he asks quietly as the movie plays in the background.

"You're a handsome man, Joel."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "It blows my mind that you think that."

"You're delusional."

"No, you're just that beautiful."

My lips attach to his in an instant, a hungry, needy feeling washing over me. I'm consumed by my own greed to have him near, desperate to have him closer. I slip my tongue against his, savoring the taste of Cajun food and Joel.

His hands rest on my hips, gripping them tightly as he begins to push me back onto the couch. My head hits the cushion gently as our lips never part, the weight of him feeling—suffocating and overwhelming. The horrible thoughts begin to flood my mind, and I do my best to push them away. But Joel is on me, devouring my mouth and keeping his grip on my hips. I can't do it. It's too much.

"Joel," I breathe, my chest beginning to heave.

"Yes, y/n?" he rasps, his lips on my neck.

"No!" I shout, pushing at his shoulders roughly.

He immediately flies back, fear and confusion staining his wonderful, beautiful face. "Y/n, hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

Before even realizing it, I'm crying and shaking, curling into myself on my cushion that I was just pressed against moments ago. I close my eyes, hoping that it'll vanish. Whether it's the thoughts or Joel, I don't care. I just need them to go away.

"Remember the breathing?" he says quietly, sounding so far away it's like I'm floating in space. "Breathe with me, y/n."

My hands are over my ears, and my eyes are squeezed shut. I slowly open them to look at Joel, watching his chest inflate and deflate slowly. I follow his rhythm, moving my hands slowly away from my head to hear his deep breaths. He encourages me, smiling gently with those soft eyes of his melting me.

His hand slowly reaches out to grab mine and I let him, watching as he places it against his heart. It's racing against my palm, but his breathing is easy and calm.

"Joel," I begin, but he shushes me gently.

"Just keep breathing for a minute. Follow mine."

We sit there gazing at each other, easily breathing in and out for a few minutes until both of our hearts are no longer pounding hard against our chests.

"I need to tell you something," I say, hanging my head.

Joel brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "I'm sorry, y/n."

My brows pitch up. "What for?"

"I came on too strong and I scared you. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"No," I shake my head. "Joel, it's not your fault."

His vast, saddened eyes search mine, wrenching my heart. "I never want to scare you, y/n."

"Please, it's not your fault, I promise."

He nods, kissing my knuckles again.

"I haven't been with anyone in eight years because I was—" Words fail me, and I seem incapable of explaining what happened to me in this moment.

"You were what?" Joel asks gently.

"T-taken advantage of by my ex-boyfriend and his friend when I was seventeen."

Joel's face twists with disgust, and the tenderness has left his eyes. "My god, I'm so sorry, y/n."

"No," I shake my head, "please don't pity me. I don't want your pity."

He gingerly reaches out and cups my face, my cheek pushing more into his touch. "It's not pity, y/n. It's compassion."

A tear falls from my eye, and Joel swipes it with his thumb. "I panicked when you first took me to the supply store for the washer hose because I was scared I wouldn't come back home. With—him—I had no way of leaving. I was trapped."

Joel frowns. "Honey, you didn't have to go with me."

I smile faintly at the pet name. "But I wanted to. I wanted to spend time with you."

"Y/n, listen to me," he cups my face in both hands, "we don't ever have to do anything you're uncomfortable with. I don't care what it is, it won't happen if you're uncomfortable. Do you hear me?"

I nod. "I still want you, Joel. I want you so badly."

"We don't have to rush into anything. I haven't even slept with anyone in years. I'll wait for you, y/n. I want to wait until you're ready."

My eyes soften as I hang my head. "God, you're amazing, you know that?"

"I'm not amazing, y/n. I'm just being a decent human. You're still fragile, and I don't want to—"

I scowl. "I'm not fragile."

Joel frowns slightly. "I didn't mean to offend you, I just don't want you doing something if it's too soon."

"Joel, I've spent the last eight years being terrified of men. You're the first man I've let kiss me in eight years. I'm not a porcelain doll. I'm a woman that's healing, and you're helping me put on the band-aids."

He smiles gently. "I'm the luckiest damn man in the world."

I scoff, sniffling a bit. "You think you're lucky because you have a trauma victim that likes you?"

"You're not that to me at all," he shakes his head. "To me, you're a strong woman who's beginning to trust. And only god knows why I'm the one who made you want to start. I'm just happy to be here with you."

My body leans forward, wrapping my arms around his neck as I push our chests together. Our lips and tongues connect effortlessly, like it's second nature for us at this point. I fling my leg over his, straddling him and pinning his thighs to the cushion.

"Y/n," Joel pulls away, his eyes searching mine, "please, if you're not ready—"

"Shut up, Joel," I tell him, reattaching our lips.

My fingers are in his hair, his hands on my hips as I gently rock them back and forth against him. I can feel how hard he is beneath me, and it only spurs me on further.

I've never ridden anyone before, but it doesn't take an expert to figure out how to do it. My hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, our lips never leaving each other's as I work at his shirt.

"Touch me," I breathe against his lips, continuing our kiss.

Joel's hands stay at my hips, rubbing them tenderly.

His shirt lays open, and I part our kiss to give him a look of disapproval. "Joel, I didn't tell you the truth so that you'd be scared of me." I bring his hands up from my hips to my breasts. "I said touch me."

He leans up to reconnect the kiss, his palms against me, kneading my chest through my dress. His hands move down beneath it, sliding up my bare thighs until he's gripping my ass tightly.

"You tell me if you want me to stop anything," he says gruffly, his eyes alight with hunger.

I nod, desperate to return to his lips.

His hands move up the sides of my dress, and I part our mouths for a moment just so he can lift it off over my head. My fingers are on his jeans, shaking from desperation as I do my best to unfasten the button. Joel helps me, making quick work of his jeans until he's sat beneath me in only his boxers.

I lick my lips in anticipation, staring down at the thick, weighty erection that rests beneath me.

"I don't have any condoms, y/n," Joel says with a ragged breath.

"I don't care. I'm on the pill."

Joel's fingers play with the band of my panties, and I can tell he's still hesitant to touch me. My lips trail along his jaw and neck as I guide his hand into the fabric that he's toying with. A small groan leaves his lips once his fingers come in contact with my slit, making me clench down onto nothing.

"Oh, my god," he groans slightly, his head falling back against the back of the couch. "You're so fucking wet."

I hum against him, sliding my tongue from his collar bone up to his earlobe. "Just for you, Joel."

He eases a finger gently inside of me, stopping my body in its tracks as a shudder of pleasure runs through me. Joel moves it out slowly, pushing it back in with ease. My hands are on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly as I let out a quiet moan against his neck.

"Gotta prep you, honey. I won't fit if I don't get you ready for me."

My breath hitches in my throat as he works a second finger into me, my lips tucking between my teeth. "Fuck," I breathe out shakily.

"God, you're so tight," he groans. "Don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't," I whisper. "Please, I need you."

My hands hook into the sides of his boxers, pulling them down so that they're resting on his thighs with his jeans. Joel's fingers move up to my clit, making me gasp at the sudden contact.

"Cum first and then I'm yours."

"Joel," I groan, my head leaning back. "Please."

He rubs me easily, swirling my little bundle of nerves in quick, neat circles that have my thighs already quivering with anticipation.

"It's okay, y/n," he coos. "You don't have to beg. You'll have me."

My body is on fire, and my chest is heaving dramatically. I'm already so close to the edge; so close to a feeling I haven't experienced in years, not even when I'm alone. I never wanted to. I've never been so hungry for an orgasm than I am right now with Joel beneath me and his fingers against me.

That blinding rush of euphoria courses through my body and I scream out, my entrance fluttering as my release takes over me. Joel groans quietly, his fingers guiding me through it until I'm shivering from the overstimulation.

He gently pulls my face down to his, kissing me deeply and passionately. I take his thick cock into my hands, groaning at the sheer size and weight of him. My other hand moves down to pull my panties to the side, rubbing Joel's tip through my soaking apex.

"Fuck," he curses, briefly breaking the kiss. "Tell me again that you want me."

I nod, biting my lip. "I want you so bad, Joel."

"I'm yours, y/n. Take me."

I pull away, leaning up onto my knees as I position myself above him. With one hand on him at the base, I gently start to ease myself down. My jaw unhinges, my eyes open wide from the overwhelming feeling of the stretch of him. I feel full, and he's not even halfway in yet.

Joel grips my hips tightly, his eyes on where we're connecting. "Take your time. I don't want it to hurt."

"It doesn't," I breathe out sharply. "Just—a lot."

He chuckles cheekily, the sound seemingly vibrating through my body to send another rush of arousal to where he's stretching me out. I move my hand, allowing myself to settle at the bottom as we both let out a coo of approval.

"Go slow," Joel says gently.

I breathe, adjusting to him still, feeling stretched beyond belief. "Don't tell me what to do."

Joel laughs, his fingers quickly undoing the clasps of my bra. He attaches his mouth to my left nipple, making me shriek and tense up around him. He groans against me, his eyes briefly squeezing shut.

I slowly start to move up and down, groaning out towards the ceiling from the intense pleasure. Joel drops his fingers to my slick bud again, immediately making me clench down on him.

He groans, moving to my other nipple. "You're so beautiful," he praises. "Riding me so good, y/n."

His compliments spur me on, and I move my hips faster, becoming more and more acclimated to the stretch of him. My moans are constant. Every time he's buried in me to the hilt, I can't help but cry out into the emptiness of my home.

"Joel," I moan, my eyes squeezed shut. "Please, I'm so close."

His free hand comes up and grips me behind my neck, pulling my lips down to press against his briefly. "I know, honey. Can feel you squeezing me. Cum on me, y/n."

His words are my undoing, and I'm crumbling. My walls are flexing against him and my teeth are sinking into the skin of his neck, needing something to keep me grounded to earth.

Joel groans loudly, only making my orgasm more intense. "Yes, y/n," he moans. "Tell me how I feel."

"G-good," I shudder, kissing the teeth marks on his neck. "Please, Joel."

"What, honey? Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me."

His hands immediately go to my hips, his legs adjusting a bit before he starts to thrust up into me, the quick pace making me scream and bury my face back into his neck.

"Oh, my god!" I cry, my eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck, Joel, please."

"I can't hold it anymore, y/n. Tell me where you want it," he says gruffly. "Tell me."

"Inside of me!"

Joel's fingers dig into my skin so tightly I'm sure they'll leave bruises. He cries out, his head tilting back as I feel him throbbing inside of me. Every spurt of cum and jerk of his hips makes me groan, and I finally open my eyes once I feel his release stop pouring into me.

His hands move to my bare back, caressing me gently from the bottom of my spine to the top. He rubs me silently for a few moments, both of us just panting and breathing together.

"Please tell me how you are," Joel finally says. "I need to know."

"I'm perfect," I breathe, moving my head out of the crook of his neck. "More than perfect."

He beams at me, leaning up to pull me in to a wonderful, tender kiss that has my heart soaring.

"You're incredible," he says as our foreheads press together. "I can't believe you like me."

I giggle, shaking my head. "Would you stop it? You're perfect, Joel. I mean it."

He chuckles, kissing me again. "What do you want me to do?"

I cock my head. "About what?"

"Do you want me to stay the night? Or would you rather me go home?"

"Stay," I smile. "Please."

He beams at me. "I was hoping you'd say that."

****

#pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fic #smut #yn fanfic #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou smut

[heeliopheelia]

― 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆:

‪‪♥︎ forgetting/losing the wedding ring (f)

‪♥︎‬ safe word (m)(f)

‪‪♥︎‬ hyung line as one night stands (m)

‪‪♥︎‬ fucking in public (m)

𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒍𝒗𝒅

Open me up, tell me you like it Fuck me to death, love me until I love myself There's a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard

𖹭 pairing: fuckboy! sunghoon x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers au

Sunghoon looks at you, stunned. You can't really believe that, can you? Heart pounds in his chest and suddenly he feels the most distressed he's ever been in his entire life. He just doesn't know what to do.

"Are you really asking me that shit? You can't actually think that," he nearly scoffs, dying inside as he just realizes how terrible he is at expressing his feelings.

He hates himself for the pain he's causing you and in an attempt to fix that, he takes a step towards you. He's painfully humbled when you move backwards, avoiding his touch at all cost. Ignoring the hurt look on his face, you avert your gaze away from him.

"I do love you, YN."

Your blurry eyes scan the messy living room, desperately trying to focus on anything else before you start weeping like a goddamn child. Ironically, as your eyes land on the couch that the two of you have spent hours on last night, you feel the first tear drop down your cheek.

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅

The time is right, your perfume fills my head The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue And then I go and spoil it all By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

𖹭 pairing: jake x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, fluff, slight angst

"Please, please, don't slip up, Jaeyun," you nearly beg on your knees, earning an amused look from him. "If we fuck up now, it's over for me. I won't be able to show my face to my family in the nearest ten years in the future."

"So dramatic and for what!" He laughs and you shove him in the ribs. "Why are you doubting my acting skills? I've been pretending to like you for more than a decade. I should be getting an Oscar, on God."

You mockingly beam at his smiling face. "Ha, you're so funny! You should become a comedian instead."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea. With you as a friend I'd never run out of jokes material."

𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

You glare at him one last time before putting on a fake smile and dragging him with you in the direction of the chattering voices.

Never before has someone been more Unforgettable in every way And forevermore, that's how you'll stay

𖹭 pairing: heeseung x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: friends to enemies to lovers au, barista au, angst, fluff

"I thought you wanted it this way," Heeseung says, eyebrows raised in confusion. He looks down at the mug in his hand then places it on the counter next to you.

"And where did you get that idea from?" You huff with annoyance but nonetheless pull the coffee closer. The very familiar scent flows into your nostrils almost immediately and you try your best not to show the excitement on your face.

"Well, that's how you liked it five years ago," he replies smoothly and quirks his eyebrow up. "Judging by your expression, nothing changed since then."

You send him a mocking smile, a grimace almost really, and stand up from the stool to walk away from him as quickly as you can so that he doesn't notice the tips of your ears burning with red.

"A lot has changed since then," you point out and pass him without sparing him another look.

𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏

If you dance I'll dance And if you don't I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away

𖹭 pairing: sunghoon x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers au

His thumb strokes the soft skin on your knuckles mindlessly. He hasn't let go of your hand ever since you got off his back. He's worried — you know it. Like he's said many times before, he's no medic. Neither of you knows how to take care of your ankle properly but for now it seems to be growing better, stronger.

You often wonder of how Sunghoon was before the world collapsed. Was he more cheerful? Was he a free spirit? Was he carefree or reserved? Was he always this gloomy? You wish you could learn the answers but all of that is in past right now. You always take as much as you can from the peeks of Hoon's old personality whenever he's feeling playful or teases you, but that's all you can get. There's no point of reminiscing of the past that will never come back. You're both different people now, no matter how much you love to push this thought out of your mind.

"Are you happy?" You ask as you walk past the gas station.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

"You make me happy," he answers without missing a beat. You squeeze his hand comfortingly, hoping you can get a few more emotions out of him. "I don't know if I feel happy with how my life's turned out to be, but you're with me now, so that makes the entirety of it half better."

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

𖹭 pairing: stable boy! jay x princess! reader

𖹭 genre: royal au, forbidden love au, angst, fluff

You did that to him.

It's all because of you.

"Jay," you whisper with throat clenched so tight, it hurt to speak. You should've ran out of tears a long time ago but here you are again, a sobbing mess in front of his shaking body. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

He weakly raises his hand up and covers your palm with his. "I'm fine. It's gonna be fine."

You can't help but only cry harder, knowing well you're not the one who's supposed to be comforted at the moment. In the corner of your eyes you notice a small group of other servants running to the both of you. You spot Heeseung in the middle of them and you cry out in helplessness.

"Please, help him," you stumble out. Heeseung looks at you with wide eyes, visibly petrified with the sight in front of him. You see the shock painting on the other two maids' pale faces. You sob out desperately, "Please."

© heeliopheelia 2024. All rights reserved

#works in progress #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #hope you're guys as excited for them as i am!!

[jpitha]

Dreams of Hyacinth 34

First / Previous / Next

Eastern reached out to Ganymede station while Nick continued to get their bearings. Even though they were a million kilometers or so from it, Jupiter loomed large on the screen. Nick had never seen the planet up close before. It reminded him of the gas giant back home in the Parvati system.

While he stared, he reflected on where he and Eastern were. What were they doing? They were planning on diving back into danger to save their girlfriend sure, but Nick also felt like something larger was happening. Nick hated feeling out of control and yet it has felt like he's been acting at the whims of the Nanites since he got them, and even before that, acting at the whims of other folks. First Jameson, then Raaden, then the Nanites.

Does he even have the ability to follow his own path anymore? Is any decision he makes his?

Nick was staring out into space thinking these thoughts when Eastern got his attention. "Hon? Ganymede says they have to make some room - their docking ring is full - but once they have done so, we have permission to land. ETA is about a day."

Nick snapped out of his reverie. "They said their docking ring is full? Eastern, can you look with our scope? It is actually full?"

"Hmm, I didn't think to look. Let me check."

Another few minutes passed while Eastern scanned. "Huh. It looks like they have a few ships docked, but there is plenty of room. Why would they lie?"

Nick sighed. "They probably guessed who we are, or were told to call for help if anyone unknown linked in. Not one day in Sol and we've been made. We should link away."

Eastern's voice over the comm sounded strained. "But, Nick. If we leave, we're going to lose our chance to find out what happened to Selkirk."

Before Nick could reply, there was a blinding flash, and in front of them was a massive ship. Bigger than a Starjumper, with rounded edges and atmospheric control surfaces. Their radio chimed with a signal and Eastern opened the channel.

"This is the Dreams of Hyacinth. The Sol system is closed to colonial vessels. State your name and your purpose for entering the system." Nick's blood chilled with realization. He recognized that voice.

Eastern gasped. "Selkirk! It's us! It's Nick and Eastern! We came to look for you!"

The signal changed from audio to video. On the screen saw Selkirk standing on the Command Deck of the Hyacinth, dressed in the uniform of Raaden's empire. Her uniform was spotless and she was clearly in charge. Nick could see ten thin wires spilling down from the back of her neck towards the command chair next to her.

Her eyes blinked in surprise. Her ears flicked, and for a split second, it looked like she was pleased to see them. Just as quickly, her expression settled into a snarl. "I've been here the whole time, Nick and Eastern. The more pertinent question is where have you been? Empress Raaden filled me in on your treachery."

Eastern nearly stuttered in her haste to explain themselves. "Treachery? Sel, Helen told us you were dead! She said you died on the operating table during your surgery. She lied to us. She made it clear that unless we went along with her, that things would go badly for us. We ran for our lives. Nick didn't believe it, so we... borrowed a ship from the AIs and came back to Sol to find you!"

Selkirk sat back down in her command chair. As she moved, the cables attached to her moved with her and slid back out of the way. "Pardon me if I find your story hard to believe. You've been gone for five years. There was plenty of time for you to come and find me. No, this is a trick. You were sent here in an AI built ship to come and destabilize us. To try and undo all the good work we've done."

"Sel please!" Eastern's voice was on the edge of tears. "We were in hibernation! We got tricked by the AIs and they put us on ice! We never meant to be gone this long! Let's get together, and we can talk it out, just like the old days."

Selkirk's face hardened. "No Eastern. You and Nick had your chance. You could have come back anytime. Helen herself told me she was willing to hear you out, welcome you back. You made your choice. I've made mine." Selkirk turned away from the camera. "Goodbye Nick. Goodbye, Eastern." The comm link was disconnected.

"No... Sel..." Eastern's voice was quiet.

Nick stared at the dark screen, blinking back tears. Suddenly, a hooting alarm sounded. "Eastern, what's going on?"

"We're being targeted Nick! Missile incoming."

For just a moment, Nick wondered if he should just let them come. No. No, that's not the way, he thought. We can figure this out, get Selkirk back. "Free the slug throwers, we have to defend ourselves." Nick's fingers flew over the panel next to his chair while he tried to find the missiles that Eastern saw.

"What's the point Nick? Sel made her choice. She's lost."

"Eastern! We're not going to sit here and take a missile up the ass because Selkirk rejected us! This is Helen's doing. We'll get Helen and get Selkirk back, but only if we survive. That's what we do hon. We survive." Nick released the slug throwers and main battery himself. Luckily it started to auto target the missile. "Eastern. We are going to get through this, but only if we help each other."

"Okay Nick. I'll help."

The slug thrower's chattering roar vibrated the ship as it attempted to fling metal at the incoming missile. With a small orange and white flash, it was gone.

"We got it hon! Calculate a link away, and we'll regroup. I'll keep an eye out for more missiles." Nick dithered over firing back. No. If they don't shoot they won't run the risk of hurting Selkirk.

"... Okay Nick. Where should we go?"

"I don't know Eastern, anywhere is better than here. Pick someplace."

Nick's console squealed an alarm as an energy spike was detected from Dreams of Hyacinth, and he barely had any time to react before their main battery struck Empress. The blast rang their little ship like a gong, and alerts lit up red all over his panel. Another hit like that would take them out. "Eastern! We can't take another hit like that. Get us out of here!" Nick's ears rung with the blast and his ears popped. Pressure loss. A huge pressure door clanged shut, sealing the command deck and Nick felt a breeze as the deck was re-pressurized.

Eastern's voice sounded strangely quiet and muffled. "I'm trying Nick, I'm trying. I don't feel right. I think that hit damaged the wormhole generator or something. I'm trying to work around it." Empress shot away from Hyacinth on thrusters as Nick's console hooted that they had another lock.

Before Nick could bring the slug throwers around again, there was another flash and a ship appeared in front of them. Eastern squeaked and flipped Empress over, trying to thrust in another direction so they didn't strike the unknown ship. Nick had never seen this kind of ship before either. It was larger than they were, but smaller than Starjumper, and had a wild blue and orange paint scheme. It instantly opened up more laser batteries than Nick thought possible on the Hyacinth. Selkirk's ship lit up with the light and energy of the blasts. Nick's first impulse was to tell them to stop shooting, but the words caught in his mouth as he realized that Selkirk didn't seem to feel the same way.

"Who the hell is that Eastern?"

"I don't know Nick, but they're helping. Open a comm channel and ask, I'm still trying to keep us from blowing up."

Nick toggled the radio. "Unknown ship, this is Empress, thank you for the assist. Who are we speaking to?"

The commlink switched to video and a Mariens was sitting in front of them. Nick blinked in surprise. He knew of Mariens from the news back when Melody came into Sol, but he had never seen one up close. They really did have a octopus look about them. "This is Captain Dev'inna of the Immar IV. We're going to grab you with our grapple and link you to safety. Hold tight."

Before Nick could react, practically the entire bottom of the Immar split open, revealing a massive grapple arm. With practiced precision, Immar grabbed the top of Empress and slid it closer.

Empress was smaller than Immar, but not so small as to be brought inside the Mariens ship and before Nick could ask what they were doing, there was a disorienting flash and they both linked away.

When they reappeared in space, Captain Dev'inna called again. "Sorry about that. We didn't want Dreams of Hyacinth to know what we were doing or where we were going. We still try and keep a low profile these days. We're safer now, but we won't be safe until we're docked inside the Reach. Follow us please."

Nick looked out and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was a Starbase, almost as large at High Mars Hyacinth, but teardrop shaped. The widest part of the teardrop was the top and had angular protrusions, almost like skyscrapers. The bottom, pointed part of the teardrop was surrounded by a ring. Nick couldn't help it and blurted out "What is that?"

Captain Dev'inna chuckled. "That friends, is Reach of the Might of Vzzx. The last Builder Starbase. The AIs helped bring it out here after Melody's... plan failed. Even though we were on the other side of the war, they didn't feel right leaving us on the other side of the galaxy. For that - and only that - we thank them. We can speak more in person. Come on."

They closed the connection. Eastern said "Well... I guess we should follow them. It seems like they're here to help us."

Nick leaned back in his seat. "Yes, but why? How did they know we were here and more importantly, how did they know we needed help?"

"All good questions hon. Let's ask them when we get inside."

Eastern turned Empress to follow Immar IV, and they slowly continued on towards the massive station. Instead of going towards the ring, Immar went near the middle, and as they approached, doors large enough to admit a Starjumper opened. Immar slid in and as Eastern got close, she felt a pull and grunted. "Huh. They have some kind of field. We're being pulled in on our own. That makes landings easy at least."

All in all, the landing only took about 30 minutes as Empress drifted slowly past other ships, all in different stages of repair or construction. Some of the bays looked like the ships had been half built for decades, others were bright and busy with work.

Without any fanfare, Empress slipped into an empty bay, and with a hum and a flash, a field sprung up near the door and Nick began to hear noise as air rushed into the bay. A few minutes later, Empress's systems spun down and Eastern came up to the command deck, rubbing the back of her head. "I don't know about you Nick, but I don't think I like being a ship that long. The change from my body to ship makes me feel... odd. I hope I don't have to be driving all the time."

Nick smiled and hugged Eastern. He tilted his head up and kissed her gently. "I'll drive next time if we need to hon. Thanks for doing it this time."

She smiled, and they made their way towards the exit.

Empress was never designed for atmospheric work, so the main airlock opened about two meters over the deck. Nick watched as an Aviens and Mariens rushed over with a wheeled set of stairs, and leaned them against Empress. Nick and Eastern carefully climbed down and thanked the dockworkers.

"Of course Empress, Emperor. Please, Captain Dev'inna and Sound of the City are waiting to meet you. This way."

Looking at each other, but saying nothing, Nick and Eastern shrugged and followed the workers. They passed through a thick airlock.

Nick and Eastern boggled. There were easily more people here than anywhere either of them had ever seen. Even Congregation Square, the busiest part of Hyacinth couldn't compare. Hyacinth was built large to make it feel roomy. The Reach was apparently built large to hold a lot of people. While they stood there, they saw all kinds of sapients. People they'd only read about or seen pictures or video. Mariens, Aviens, Azurians, and even a few of the Falor, who lived in atmospheric suits all the time outside of their district. Nick remembered reading about them, apparently quite a few relocated to one of the floating cities on Venus, because they could just lower it deeper into the Venusian atmosphere and make a more tolerable place for them.

After a moment, Captain Dev'inna rushed over with one of the bird looking people, the Aviens with them. They were wearing a royal blue uniform and under it had shimmering feathers.

Eastern looked around. Actually lots of people here wore the same Royal Blue that Melody wore.

"Empress! Emperor! Welcome to Reach of the Might of Vzzx! We're so glad you're here!" Captain Dev'inna bowed low.

"Indeed. We finally feel whole again. It is such a joy to see you." The Aviens matched the bow of Dev'inna. "I am Sound of the City, current Head Builder on the Reach and leader of the Administration."

Nick and Eastern returned the bows without thinking. Nick thought it was odd that they both did that, but at the same time it felt... right to do it. "Builder? I thought all the Builders were killed when... the AIs captured the Reach?" Nick said.

City's eyes sparkled. "Yes, and I suppose they thought the Empresses destroyed when they killed Melody. And yet, you stand before us."

Eastern narrowed her eyes. "What about Empress Raaden?"

City scoffed. "We do not recognize her authority. Do you know that she has not returned to the reach once since Melody died? She has made no speeches, she has done no rites. She is not empress, she merely has the Nanites. Being Empress is more than nanotechnology."

Eastern looked like she was about to say something else, but Nick held up his hand. "Captain Dev'inna, Sound of the City, please accept our most grateful thanks for the help, but I must ask. How did you know we were there? How did you know we needed help? How did you know we even existed?"

Sound of the City looked surprised. "Emperor, are you testing us? We knew where you were for the same reason that you knew how to return our greetings. For the same reason you both are speaking our languages instead of your own Colonic."

"The Nanites told us."

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #sci fi writing #writing #humans and aliens #jpitha #the k’laxiverse #The Dreams of Hyacinth

[googleitlol]

It's been awhile but I wanted to post this little blurb to continue my Dove fic posts. I'm almost done with midterms so it felt nice to flesh out pt. 1 of this scene for a little break!

btw… ik this is a wukong x reader but, uh, it takes a while for the whole shipping part to happen… I'm sorry they literally hate each other but I'll get to the actual shipping when it happens, naturally. (It just might take… time) ANYWAY ENJOY–

Dove Masterlist

TW: Gore

Disagreements

The young monk shivers slightly at the chill of an adolescent winter's breeze. Many of the flora along the road that has been so frequently travelled was now coated in a blanket of frost. Snow has yet to fall, though it will no doubt come soon. Clouds cross the sky at a steady pace, the wind encouraging their movement. 

You walk alongside the horse that carries the Tripitaka monk, feeling the need to stretch your legs. The past few days you spent in your dove form were nice, despite having to listen to all of that irritating monkey's exaggerated tales, but sitting on Tripitaka's shoulder for so long began to feel tiring.

The Monkey King walks on the other side of the horse, whether he is unaware of your annoyed glances or just doesn't care is unclear. After spending the entire morning boasting to his master about his many accomplishments, one would think that he'd look your way and catch your glare. Or maybe he just enjoys seeing such a sour look on your face. With him, who knows?

The young master himself also failed to pick up on the annoyance that stems from his trusted ally, too enamoured with his disciple's stories. Wukong has a true sense for theatrics, which made his tall tales all the more entertaining. Even if the monk seemed ever so slightly put off whenever the king explained how he committed some of the atrocities from his past to earn his reputation, Tripitaka kept his small smile from the excitement in the monkey's voice.

Sighing over the tale of how the Great Sage earned his iron staff, Tripitaka turns to you. "What of you, young companion?" The question makes you look up in slight surprise. "You've nearly lived as long as Pilgrim Monkey here, even despite your mortality. Have you any tales as grand as his?"

You hum for a moment, in thought as your memory of every exciting moment from your life fails to recall itself. "None that comes to mind, Great Monk. I spent most of my life in training, which was long and tedious."

The young man frowns. "You've lived over five hundred years, have you not? Surely you have some stories to tell."

His curiosity makes you hum in amusement. The monk is close to you in age, though his wide eyes of wonder fill you with a strange warmth. Many weeks have passed since the start of the journey, and if not for the formalities you attempt to hold yourself to, you might consider the Great Monk a good companion, a friend. But that feels inappropriate to say.

"I suppose there are some, though not all of them are as light-hearted as the supposed Great Sage." You cast another glance to the celestial primate, who now finally looks to you. His expression is neutral, though, from the past few weeks of travel, you feel that the short abrupt flicks from the tip of his tail expose a glimpse at his own irritation.

Maybe he can't handle not having his master's attention. Good. "However, I haven't lived as long as you believe. Those five hundred years were spent in the Jade Palace, where time moves differently. What was centuries on the mortal plain was merely a few years for me."

To your surprise, the monk laughs lightly, eyes shining in delight. "You say you have no stories to tell, yet you lived in the Jade Palace? Never have I heard of a mortal staying in the realm of the celestials." You don't miss the twitch of Sun Wukong's brow, a hint of a smirk creeping its way onto your face. "Tell me, what is it like there?"

"Why ask the measly Dove?" Wukong laughs before you can answer. "I lived up there as well, you know. I've held two separate positions with those heavenly deities! I can tell you of the feasts, how servants waited on me, that I was given my very own office, even!"

You nearly surprise yourself as a cackle escapes your throat. The two men look at you as you cough discreetly into your arm. "Apologies, but you were the stable boy, were you not?" His tail flicks another time, now being accompanied with his ears flattening against his head. The Great Sage really spoke more through his body language than his words, you found.

"My second position was much more important." His eyes roll as his arms cross. "Not that you could understand what it means to be given such responsibilities from the court of heaven."

He's defensive, that's cute. "Maybe not. Although, you didn't seem to last long in either job offer, did you?"

That makes him laugh proudly. "At least I earned my place there by becoming the strongest. What did you do, again? Give Guan Yin some sad eyes until she gave you your little vacation?"

You frown at that, eyes narrowing. "Don't act like your presence was wanted, Ape." Tripitaka gives you a look of surprise at the snap of tone in your voice. "I was there because I had to be, we are not the same. You earned your place by causing so many problems, the Court's only diplomatic option was to keep you entertained!"

"And what do you know of my matters in Heaven?" Sun Wukong barks out another laugh, his tone mocking. You clench your fist as you glare at the being before you. His tail whips wildly now from side to side, his teeth bared with a threatening smile.

His question makes you roll your eyes, as though he had forgotten your very first encounter."Did your time under that mountain make you senile or did you forget I witnessed your rampage firsthand, you idiotic, brainless, stupid and foul—"

"Stop!" Your eyes snap towards the direction of a new voice. Men quickly surround you and the pilgrims, all brandishing weapons against your group. Tripitaka looks between them all with fear as you smile to yourself. It's been too long since there was some action on this trip. 

One of the six blocking your path steps forward, a man holding out his sword as he spoke. “Leave your horse and drop your bags, otherwise us kings of the highway will cut you down where you stand!” You can see he means business, but it only makes you itch to jump into action. It’ll be good to take down such lawless men–

A body hits the ground before you can reach for your weapon.

The bandits fall silent, five pairs of eyes wide with fear as the Pilgrim readjusts the grip of his staff. A steady drip of scarlet liquid falls by his feet. The body before him lays on its side, its head caved in a few paces away. Blood pours from it, pooling over the ground just where some of his insides are now exposed. The man’s eyes are still open, stuck in an expression stricken with terror.

“Whoops.” The monster shrugs. “Sometimes I forget what flimsy bodies you have.”

They all run, screaming as their prosecutor gives chase. Not a single man made it off the road. All you can do is stand amidst it all, the young monk atop the horse mirroring your expression of absolute dread. The men no longer hold life in their eyes, their bodies bent and mangled, spread along the path with their weapons in the now non-existent grasp of their hands. The Monkey King stood between it all, his hand casually wiping away the blood that had splashed onto his face in his swift deliverance of death. He didn’t even bother with the ripples of deep red that now stain his clothing and arms.

You have to fight back the bile that attempts to claw up your throat. While you manage to succeed, Tripitaka fails miserably. The monk fumbles off the horse, nearly losing his footing before you catch and help him to the side of the road where he empties his stomach. You’ve seen horrors, bodies of demons dismembered and bathed in blood. Many fights end in casualties, death is nothing new, but to see the Monkey King wield his staff…

It doesn’t help seeing human bodies discarded in such a way… no matter how many demons you’ve fought, seeing a person mutilated in such a way always leaves a gaping hole in the depths of your stomach and an intense weight holding down your heart.

Sun Wukong looks at the two of you, unbothered by his actions. “That guy has some spare arrows, Dove. You can never have too many, right?”

You can’t manage to say a word before Tripitaka regains his bearings and marches towards his disciple. “What have you done?!”

“Me?” The demon laughs. “Got us some free clothes, and a pretty good travel allowance if these guys were any good at robbing.”

“You killed them! You murdered six men!” The monk shouts, his voice just barely withholding an emotion you have yet to see from the man.

Wukong scoffs at the appalled reaction to his actions. “And you’re welcomed for it.”

“No–” The man sighs. “Sun Wukong, you’re a buddhist now, and we don’t kill people.”

“Pssh– they were asking for it.” The monkey scoffs, crouching down to shake some more of the human remains off his staff.

“No!” You’re surprised to hear such a strong demand from the measly monk, his voice more stern than you’ve ever heard. “You made a deal with the bodhisattva and whether you like it or not you will uphold your part of the bargain. That means not killing people!”

The disciple looks up at that. “You’re really upset? They wanted to rob you.”

“Not even a judge would give a death sentence for that!” He argues, his open glare taking his new student aback.

“Hey, what’s done is done. You can sit here and complain about it or we can keep moving.” He turns to continue west, looking over his shoulder as he does. His expression is more annoyed now, his tail flicking to and fro impatiently, waiting for his Master’s sign to keep moving.

But Tripitaka’s stare bears down on his pupil. “No. I won’t take another step with a murderer claiming to be my disciple.”

“Come on, you’re being ridiculous.” The Monkey King turns back to face us, a frown now hardening over his features.

“A person who murders in cold blood cannot call himself a buddhist.”

The two glare daggers into one another, it almost takes you aback. You didn’t realise the monk could take such a stand, yet here he is. Against the Great Sage, no less. Yet he refuses to back down, even with the demon challenging him. The air between the two feels thick, as though it’s become a semisolid you have to hold your breath in.

After what feels like an eternity, the monkey laughs. “Fine then, I guess I’m no buddhist.” He turns, taking a few steps away before calling back. “Good luck making it to the west, Master.” 

“Wha–” Before Tripitaka is even able to speak, Monkey King hops onto his Somersault Cloud. “Wait, you can’t leave!”

“Watch me.” The demon glances back to the two of you, and you catch his eye for the briefest moment. Before he takes off, you make sure he sees the grin resting on your face. You know that all he’s doing is proving your point, from your talk by the river. He knows it too, and he must hate it.

He’s gone before another second can pass, and all that’s left on the path is you, Tripitaka, the horse, and six dead men.

The monk keeps his eyes on the path the Great Sage took through the sky, his eyes wide with despair. “…What did I just do?”

Slowly, you approach the man, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You scolded a centuries-old demon for good reason, and he went to sulk about it.”

“No… no, no, no, no! This is terrible!” Tripitaka’s hands shoot to his head, eyes wide and panicked. “I’ve lost my first disciple! What am I supposed to do? Where did he even go?! I was angry, I didn’t mean–” 

“Monk, you must calm yourself.” You disrupt the spiral of distress before it can continue any longer. “You did the right thing. Your disciple did something wrong, you confronted him. Look at his actions!”

As the monk turns to glance at the casualties left behind, you quickly stop him. “Actually, don’t. I wouldn’t want you to get sick again.”

“I didn’t mean for him to leave, but I couldn’t just excuse–” The man cuts himself off, his face pale from just the thought of what we had witnessed mere moments ago.

Holding his arms, you offer a comforting smile. “I understand, but there’s no need to worry.”

“No need?” He guffaws. “Sun Wukong is gone!”

You sigh quietly under your breath. “I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner, but I had a feeling something like this would happen. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon.” You do your best to suppress the chuckle that tries to escape your throat.

“Guan Yin has left me with something for a situation like this.”

The slight frown you receive tells you the man’s interest is now piqued. “What?”

You glance back at the road before answering. “Help me with the robbers, and I’ll explain. Your disciple will be back, and we’ll have to be ready when he does.”

“I… I don’t understand.” Tripitaka frowns. “How do you know he’ll return?”

You don’t bother to hide your smirk as you think back to that night by the river.

 “I'll be there to watch the moment you mess up.”

“He’ll want to prove me wrong.”

#honey no #you don't know what you're abt to do #girlie abt to unleash pure trauma #little dove #sun wukong #jttw sun wukong #tripitaka #jttw tripitaka #journey to the west #sun wukong x reader #jttw