#honestly the way he describes his childhood sounds like what a parent would say to their child as reasons to abuse them

[every-natural-harmonia-gropius]

#pokémon #pokespe #n pokemon #ghetsis pokemon #unova #every n #n dearest no he didn’t #your nice upbringing you see as nice is because you don’t have anything else to compare it to #honestly the way he describes his childhood sounds like what a parent would say to their child as reasons to abuse them #and I wouldn’t put it above Ghetsis to say things like these #we know N’s childhood living with Pokémon at least in game and other canon sorces show them taking care of him #like the episode of Pokémon evolutions where the Darmanitan stood in front of N when Ghetsis showed up #and didn’t back down until N said it was all right #all in all Ghetsis definitely implanted these thoughts so N wouldn’t leave

[the-bloody-sadist]

Ayyy! Happy new year! This time I have a writing question for you! Do you have any suggestions for how to deal with suspension of disbelief in the context of writing a really fucked up whumper? Like, I just want to write. I have the basics of the dynamic and motive down but if I think about it too hard I start rationalizing myself out of it and thinking things like "Okay, sure he's a terrible person... But his thought process doesnt make sense to me," which is frustrating because it also DOES make sense to me, but it's so easy to poke holes in. Another example being creepy, posessive whumpers which I'm trying hard to write, and I GET that it's irrational but also I just end up thinking "But... If you love him... Why is he in a cage with his eyes gouged out..."

🐳

Hello Whale!! Happy New Year to you too :D

Thank you for your questions! This is something I'm particularly passionate about, but I tend to NOT see it in the whump community (which honestly, I don't really like to say I'm a part of, I just know that tagging my works as that will bring in the crowd who can enjoy it most). There are so many dead characters that are only there for the sake of causing pain and creating whump. It's frustrating to me lol.

First of all, the biggest reason you'd most likely have trouble with the suspension of disbelief in the context of a fucked up whumper or villain would be because you don't know his motivation. People don't just do fucked up things out of nowhere for the sake of doing fucked up things for fun. And even if people might exist in real life that seem to do this, it's just because we don't actually know what's going on inside their head.

With villains/whumpers, you have to understand their belief system, their goals, and their drive that pits them against the hero/whumpee. I know people in the whump community are typically pretty lazy with this, but if you're wanting the writing advice that you should follow in any story, then...you know. Stop looking at whump writing for examples (and by this I mean MOST, not ALL. I found a couple like @deluxewhump and @whumpzone most notably, who have well-formed characters and cohesive progression of arcs.).

And I don't say this to sound high and mighty, so I hope it doesn't come off that way. I just get frustrated, having studied writing and characters my whole life, seeing such flat writing being excused because of its so-called whump content. T_T Moving on, though! I struggle with concern over certain characters I have coming off as cartoonishly abusive, as well, such as Mother in Little Bird, which I just recently published a sample of here. It's a little hard for me to describe the intricacies of my thought process when trying to assure big, awful villains come off as realistic, but the first step is definitely their reason for doing it in the first place.

To use Mother as an example, I added elements of her environment to make sure that violence and extreme brutality were part of her world, her upbringing, and the dynamic she has with her son, Ellum, in general. So she's the partner of a Russian pakhan, a leader of a syndicate. This is a particularly brutal environment, which offers the perfect space to breed cruelty and nurse bad habits. She can get away with abusing her son, she has more aggravators around her that can set off her anger, and since I gave her the added struggle of mental disorders, her unstable state is even further kicked out of balance by the way she lives.

With creepy and possessive whumpers, or otherwise captors like you mentioned, think of irl serial killers. Behind almost all of them and their extreme brutality, there was a mother or parent who was awful to them in their childhood. An unstable environment and a horrible upbringing would lead to a cycle of abuse and, later on, someone who would hurt others out of "love" or "lust", because their impulse control is extremely low.

The most important thing is to show more than one side to your villain, because humans in general do things that they believe are correct. The villain has to believe in himself and think that what he's doing is the right answer to whatever he's dealing with, internally or externally. He loves someone, he wants them to love him back. They don't love him back? Well, he'll make them. They still won't? Well he'll show them what they get for rejecting him. He doesn't want to get hurt anymore, and they hurt his feelings, so they deserve X, Y, or Z because of it.

And his motivation could be just pure selfishness. He wants it, he gets it. They don't have to agree or consent. Going back to Mother from Little Bird, she takes from Ellum because it makes her happy, and forcing him to be codependent on her fulfills her need to be needed, so she wrongly treats him almost as a lover to fill the hole that her husband leaves, since he's emotionally detached and uninterested in her. She feels rejected, so she goes after an easier prey.

To summarize, hopefully, because I never know if I'm speaking coherently enough for it to be understood lol, "Sure, he's a terrible person" should be followed by "but why is he a terrible person? What made him that way? Why doesn't he just stop and try to be normal?" And that should help you begin to understand your villain's motivation for cruelty.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK LIL WHALE, IT WAS FUN TO ANSWER THIS ONE! I hope it helps.

#writing villains #lil whale anon 🐳 #sadist’s answered asks #writing advice #characters

[miengsol]

💋👶🍭🍷❤

romance? romance ( ft. shipping ooc meme w/ @rootworkin )

💋 – Is your muse a good kisser? Would they consider themselves one?

i would say so! before his wife, he did have like one or two relationships that each lasted around 6 to 9 months each so he does have experience...that and he was married and even if she was more reserved when it came to the physical aspects of a romantic relationship, please assume they did get it on ;D

as for calum though, i would say he thinks he's okay, nothing too special ( although little does he realize that the reason he's considered a good kisser is because he knows how to read body language and cues 😌 )

👶 – What are your muse’s top three baby names for each gender?

well one of them is erza, but i do legitimately think, his list would be the same regardless of the gender the baby is assigned at birth ( mostly bc no matter what verse calum's in, he will always have married mana at one point- that never changes )

that being said!! here are cute gender neutral names i could see him wanting to give his future child:

seth

sol

ever

ellison

he'd also want them to have a korean name too since his heritage is very important to him <3

🍭 – What are some thoughtful gift ideas to get your muse?

OKAY so this is important because this aspect of another person can either make or break their relationship with calum and when i say make or break, i'm not talking about the costs. especially when it comes to gift-giving as a language, i think it's often misunderstood bc it's not the cost that matters, what matters is the thought/intent of the gift.

so for someone like calum, someone whose parents tried to earn his love through expensive gestures, he's not impressed by extravagance. if you're going to get him a gift, it has to be something that shows you were really thinking of him! in this case, i would say if you get him cool cookie cutters/candy molds, that's always a good place to start since he bakes a lot...get him something he can use.

other ideas tho! honestly if you take him out on a date ( give him an experience ) that also works. but if all else fails you can always get him post-it notes; he goes thru those generously.

🍷 – Describe an ideal date for your muse.

HMMMMMM....first, make sure his child is with someone he trusts. BUT THEN...he's a pretty classy/down-to-earth guy so honestly a dinner date and maybe a nice walk afterwards sounds great to him. he won't mind dressing up, but he wouldn't want the restaurant to be too fancy as that just reminds him of his childhood ( not a good time ).

( but his partner dresses up well....if there is ahem, activities in the bedroom happening, this is a good way to get him enthusiastic JFKLSDJF )

❤ – How affectionate is your muse? How do they feel about PDA?

i'd say he's more on the shy side in public. like he isn't aloof by any means but you won't get him to do anything more than maybe a peck on the lips...granted he does like to tease, BUT he knows how to be subtle in that case.

in private though, he is a lot more touch-affectionate. gives lots of hugs and cheek kisses. he also likes it when he gets to sit next to/cuddle with his partner and simply do his own thing. he used to do that a lot with his wife when she was reading.

#rootworkin #a calendar filled ( headcanons. ) #with a gentle heart ( answered. ) #thank you so much for these hex!! #some of these actually?? GAVE IDEAS :D

[sezja]

Two ocs, one you pick and other Marty :) Because we must know them more.

Describe a soft scenario or memory involving your muse.

Soft Headcanon Meme (Still accepting!)

Bjarni Iryut (feat. Slejsa Iryut, who belongs to @lesenbyan )

The sounds of Rak'tika are familiar and foreign all at once - they tug at Bjarni's heartstrings in a way the sounds of the Shroud never have. He closes his eyes, lets his head rest on the wall he sits against. Perhaps it's the sound of so many viera in one place once more? Nowhere in all their journeys on the Source did they ever see so many of their own people gathered like this, not since leaving home. It reminds him of childhood, of the happier days before their village would have seen them parted; would have seen Bjarni sent to fulfill his role as a guardian-

He opens his eyes, lets them rest on his sleeping twin. The viera - viis - of the Greatwood have been kind enough to loan them a bed for the night: only fair, since without Slejsa, there would be no night at all.

Slejsa sleeps fitfully, whimpering in their sleep. Slaying the Greatwood's Lightwarden has taxed them - this entire endeavor has taxed them, and Bjarni chafes at his inability to help. Now more than ever, given what Y'shtola has revealed about Slejsa's aether. He has been, all his life, their protector; were he able to take this burden from them, of course he'd do it gladly, but how can he protect them from this? He cannot contain the Light. Mayhap if his own body wasn't still back on the Source...

"Shh," he says, rising to his feet. He leans over his twin, rubbing their back with slow, gentle movements - he does not want to wake them, not when they need this sleep, and certainly not when they tend to wake disoriented and confused. Bjarni may not always make the smartest decisions, but he knows his twin. "Shh, I'm here." He rubs their neck, their shoulders, until they sink into a deeper, quieter slumber.

Bjarni rests a hand atop Slejsa's head, between their ears, the way he has since they were tiny.

"We'll get you home safe," he says, making it a promise.

Martiallais Redlance

"It's really nothing," he assures her again, for the third time - but Martiallais must quietly admit to enjoying the sight of Tsimh digging through her cluttered cabinets. A haystack evidently has nothing on trying to find a needle in Tsimh's house. "Just a little tear; nothing as'll cause me any trouble in the forest-"

"And I'm to let everyone know your girl doesn't know how to stitch up her man's clothes?" She digs deeper, wiggling her rump in a way he can't help but admire. "Nonsense. I know I have a sewing kit in here somewhere. I mended a vest only two moons ago. Three?" She sits back on her heels with a huff. "Honestly, I swear, Marty, I was so organized before I moved out of my parents' house! I knew precisely where to put my hand to get anything I wanted."

You still do, he doesn't say; he doesn't want to explain why the tips of his ears have gone pink. Instead, he says, "Anyone who thinks less of you for not stitchin' up a shirt can answer to me."

"Oh, love, I don't want you getting into scuffles over- oh!" Tsimh exclaims, reaching into the bottom shelves of a dusty bookshelf, drawing out a powder-pink little case. "Here it is!"

She returns triumphant to Martiallais, holding out a hand expectantly. "Shirt off!"

"Bossy little minx," he teases, tugging the shirt over his head, careful not to tear the hole any larger - he'd not even noticed it; must've snagged his shirt on a thorn. They'd been laying traps in the Bramble Patch two days ago; doubtless it'd happened then. He seldom cares overmuch when his clothing takes damage - he could stitch it up himself, or pass it to Dom's mother for a small payment - but Tsimh's fierce determination is heartwarming.

He likes it, these little domestic gestures.

Tsimh settles into her own chair before the fireplace, humming cheerily to herself as she threads the needle with deft, clever fingers.

"I never manage to get it first try," he admits, leaning on one arm to watch her work.

She grins, bronze eyes glittering in the firelight. "Neither do I. That was all luck."

"You could've fooled me."

It makes her laugh, that infectious giggle he can never resist. "I'd never lie to you, Marty!"

Guilt churns his stomach. He shoves it aside. "Aye, well, either way, I reckon your stitches'll look better than mine."

"Aye," she agrees, setting to work. "They always look better when they're done with love."

#bjarni iryut #martiallais redlance #tsimh #thank you! #this one took a little longer for obvious reasons #bjarni's ended up more bittersweet than soft....... but honestly with them it's either silly or bittersweet #my writing

[eccedentesian]

CHARACTER PROFILE: ELMER C. ALBATROSS

FULL NAME. elmer ██████████ albatross.

NICKNAME. el, el-el, elross (all names he gives himself — no one ever uses them for him).

ALIASES. the child of calamity and light (epithet by the cult he was raised in), the smile junkie (by his friends, && sometimes his enemies), mister happy ending (by some of the strangers he encounters).

PRONOUNS. he/him.

SIZE. 6'1".

AGE. timeline && verse dependent — defaults to 25, well over 300 in canon.

ZODIAC. aquarius.

SPOKEN LANGUAGES. fantasy: common, elvish / canon: english, italian, some japanese, some spanish.

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

HAIR. blond, short && messy. it gets paler in the summer, almost white.

FACIAL HAIR.  none. for better or for worse, he's never been able to grow it.

SKIN TONE.  pale && fair.

BODY TYPE.  as a child, elmer was dangerously thin && scrawny, but he's filled out some over the years. most of his build isn't muscle, && he's not especially athletic, but he can swing around a heavy sword without much trouble.

VOICE. loud, cheerful, somewhat abrasive. it sounds like he's smiling when he talks. speaks in a vaguely northern european accent.

DOMINANT HAND.  right.

POSTURE.  fairly relaxed, but upright. doesn't usually slouch, as a slope in his shoulders stretches his back uncomfortably.

SCARS.  so many. making a scar map wouldn't help, because it's easier to describe where he's not scarred: his face, neck, lower arms, && lower legs. everywhere else has more scarred skin than less. his back, in particular, has a nasty burn scar on his upper back between his shoulders, which has been scarred over with more injuries.

MOST NOTABLE FEATURES.  his smile, which is sunny && bright, && fully unwavering. that smile is pretty distracting, but anyone who looks at him long enough would begin to notice that his eyes are almost always closed (or at least closed enough to not see them well, though they're a rather striking pale blue when you can see them).

CHILDHOOD.

PLACE OF BIRTH.  an unnamed village just north of thorakaas.

HOMETOWN.  elmer lived in the village for the first ten years of his life. he spent the next five in myros, && six more after that in iir. ever since, he's been on the road so much he doesn't have a single place of residence. based on where he spent the most time in his early years, the village probably counts, but elmer doesn't consider it home. if he had to name one place, he'd probably consider iir to be his hometown.

SIBLINGS.  none biologically. his friend esperanza, who first brought him to iir, is like an older brother, however.

PARENTS.  unnamed && unimportant. even elmer doesn't recall their names, if he even knew them. they were simply mother && father.

ADULT LIFE.

OCCUPATION.  adventurer...? elmer doesn't really put a name to what he does, && if you asked him, he'd probably say he's unemployed. he used to study alchemy as a child, but doesn't practice it anymore. more objectively, you could call him a healer, a humanitarian, or even a missionary, if you ignored the religious connotations. in the end, elmer's only focus && goal is making everyone in the world happy. so whatever you'd call that.

CURRENT RESIDENCE.  honestly, that's a great question. in his d&d canon, he's on his way to monoa for the foreseeable future.

CLOSE FRIENDS.   fantasy: chiusadov 'huey' laforet (best friend since childhood), esperanza borognal (like a brother), alvize montclair (a fellow alchemist he met in colombe), kor anikava (a new friend with a strong bond) / canon (additional): monica campanella (other best friend along with huey), niki.

FINANCIAL STATUS.  not great, but he's okay for the moment. eventually, that money is going to run out, though.

DRIVER’S LICENSE.   in canon? yeah. (thanks victor)

CRIMINAL RECORD.   again, in canon? it's complicated. in fantasy/d&d canon... you could say that. wanted in colombe for deserting the mission he was hired to complete. wanted by the keshir army in usben for assumed kidnapping.

INTIMACY AND ROMANCE.

ORIENTATION. el oh el. asexual && bi-demiromantic. however, this doesn't mean he wouldn't have sex, nor does it mean there's a real chance of him feeling romantic attraction to anyone, let alone being in a healthy relationship. if anything, he might be huey-romantic, && that's a big if.

PREFERRED EMOTIONAL + INTIMATE ROLE.  doing whatever it takes to make the other person smile. that's it. that's as deep as it gets.

TURN OFFS.  honestly i can't really answer this. it doesn't really apply. pain, i guess? just like in general, though, not even exclusive to intimacy.

TURN ONS.  can i say a big, genuine smile? again, that's kinda it. that's definitely not a sexual thing though, it's just... yeah.

LOVE LANGUAGE.  acts of service, babeyyyyy. words of affirmation might be a close second. that said, "love" is a strong word — this is more his preferred method of making people smile.

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.   sorry to disappoint, but the answer to this is that if elmer were in a relationship, he'd be wildly inconsistent. he could be extremely attentive until someone else needs cheering up, && then he would completely ignore his partner to help them instead. like in most things, elmer's intentions are incredibly selfish, masked by superficially altruistic behavior.

MISCELLANEOUS.

CHARACTER’S THEME TUNE.   'blossoms' by the amazing devil: and i stare at the soldiers before me / all my blossoms that have waited to fall / and i walk / and i walk / and i walk / and i walk / knowing every last one of them is painted in light / as I make myself acquainted with the saint of never getting it right

HOBBIES TO PASS THE TIME.   honestly? just talking to people. elmer is known for just sitting himself down in a tavern && striking up conversation with everyone who comes through. he's also a big fan of pranks && practical jokes. in canon, he also loves video games.

LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED.   slightly more right brained, though he has certain left-brain tendencies.

SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL.   when it comes to 99% of things? out the roof. more than he should be, probably. when it comes to his own ability to be happy...? not so much.

#WOO this was long but really fun #— musing !

[astaroth1357]

More undateables with a demigod hades mc???

By request, have yourself a part two!! 

Demigod MC Series: Hades Pt. 2 (Un)Dateables Edition!

I will ask that y’all please don't ask for continuations of other gods unless I say it’s okay to do again. This series already fills my inbox something fierce and this is a one-off that I allowed for during the request window.  If I have to make ideas for new gods while continuing a bunch of old MCs, it'll burn me out fast...

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2

Diavolo

Oh, he has no problem at all hosting a child of the Underworld, hell he even throws them a welcome banquet when he finds out! Hades is a dear friend - and practically a parental figure to him growing up - so he's more than happy to take in one of his children for a year.

Diavolo is actually one of the few people that the MC can talk to about their home with any kind of fondness. Usually when they bring up things like the comforting wailing of the River Coctyus, the brothers will give them weird looks... but Diavolo knows where they're coming from!

He spent numerous summers in the Underworld growing up doing things like pestering Charon on the River Styx or playing games with Cerberus (the other one) in the Asphodel Meadows... His beach house is actually modeled after his childhood summer home in the Isles of Paradise! Really, it can be a lovely place if the gloom doesn't bother you!

So in the spirit of his fond memories, Diavolo really tried to make their time in the Devildom a fun one!... in his maybe trying a little too hard way…  

Poor MC found themselves offered pretty much everything under the moon… Tickets or exclusive passes to different cultural events/festivals, invitations to gala events, and tours of nearly every inch of Hell by the Prince himself - it was… it was a lot for the poor introverted thing…

It didn’t help that Diavolo would have a hard time gauging if they were having any fun due to their naturally melancholic nature, which only pushed him to try harder… He means well, he does. He’s just not the most in touch with what would make an anti-social doom child happy...

It took Barbatos and Lucifer stepping in for the mortal to actually start getting some much needed space and that improved their experience significantly. Sometimes less is more, Dia… Less is more. But they appreciate his efforts anyway.

Barbatos 

Also has a pretty amicable relationship with the Ruler of the Underworld, though his is much more professional compared to Diavolo’s. He actually has a good deal of appreciation for the man for taking good care of the Prince during his visits, so he sees this as an opportunity to return the favor.

Like Diavolo, he’s rather focused on making sure the MC is having a good stay in the Devildom, but he’s much more subtle about it. He’ll come by the House often to check up on them and make sure everything is to their liking... 

Even the brothers notice that he treats them like anothering visiting Lord/Lady in that way, which he would argue they very much are and should be respected as one. It’s the least the Devildom can offer their father at this point.

His visits may also be an excuse for keeping an eye on the brothers to make sure they don’t do anything to inconvenience their “young guest…” To be honest, the entire House is a little paranoid about that… Nobody wants to know the punishment for hurting MC if Barbs is the one dishing it out...

Apart from watching out for them, Barbatos tries to encourage the MC to accept the Young Lord’s gifts (while also actively advising Diavolo to go easier on them at the same time). It would be so disheartening to him if his Prince feels like he hasn’t offered them the best experience that he could… He’s sure they understand.

Any time that he invites the MC to tea, they usually end up talking about their father in some way. Barbs knows a surprising amount about the god… He’s been around about as long as Chronos - preceding the birth of Aether and Chaos themselves - so he has some stories to tell.

The MC did once ask him why he doesn’t just run everything if he’s really been around for so long... his answer was: “Kings and their kingdoms will rise and fall… Worlds upon worlds are born, then cease to be. But time is what brings about all changes… So, I think I’m perfectly content with the power I possess. Wouldn’t you be?” 

Annnd they never asked Barbs another question like that again… and people think death is scary… 

Simeon 

He was honestly a little worried for their new companion for quite a while… It’s not like there’s never any sadness in the Celestial Realm or anything, but they seem to have something else entirely…

He’s heard stories about the Underworld. He’s never been himself, that’s usually a job for the Seraphim due to the… dreary nature of the place - but he’s heard it would make the Devildom look downright festive…

If he were being honest, he had half expected the MC to be obsessed with skeletons, ghosts, and other elements of darkness but that wasn’t the case. They certainly knew a lot about those things, but they appeared to have a healthy interest in the afterlife in general, so they asked him a lot of questions about the Celestial Realm, angels, and how the souls of the blessed are treated up there… It was surprising to say the least.

Of course he did the same and, frankly, Simeon found it incredibly wasteful that so many Greek followers find themselves just wasting away in a field of nothing for so long… but that’s neither here nor there.

He was also surprised by how gentle of an influence the MC ended up being on Luke as well. He had always suspected that the little angel just needed a bridge between him and Devildom to start finding appreciation for it, and the MC fit that bill perfectly - nothing he was used to, but still approachable enough to make everything less frightening. He thanks them a great deal for that… but...

It’s just that… Well they’re just so… depressing sometimes…! He doesn’t want to blame them because it hardly seems like their fault! They’re a very kind person, it’s just an atmosphere around them… It brings him to tears if he isn’t careful…

He’s invited the MC to Purgatory Hall on multiple occasions to chat and try to make them smile… When they do, the gloom is dispelled - even just a little - and they’re a truly beautiful creature regardless. It’s just so unfortunate that their life brings so much sadness...

Even so, he actually likes the MC enough to consider basing a character on them if he ever wrote another book. Something about a gloomy but sweet protagonist at home in a world of darkness sounds appealing… doesn’t it?

Luke

He didn’t know how to feel about the MC when they met. At first, he actually thought they were just as unhappy as he was to be there due to how depressed they looked but when they told him that wasn't true, he was really confused...

The Devildom is a dark, brutish, and dangerous place. Why would anyone feel at home down here??

But… well… He would spend time with them at RAD between breaks (partially to help scare off their many, many demonic suitors) and it might be weird to say, but they really made the Devildom look beautiful… literally.

The world just looks better when they’re around! It’s really hard to describe because it’s not something you notice much until they leave, but when the MC is around everything looks more vibrant and inviting! The grass gets greener, flowers grow bigger, and butterflies/birds hover around wherever they are like they have their own gravity - the realm loves them!

It started getting hard for Luke to hang onto his disdain for the place when they made it look so appealing… And then they started talking to him about the Underworld and the creatures they’d befriended there… creatures a lot worse than any demons he’d seen there...

Like. If the MC can be good friends with a bunch of rude walking corpses, then he could probably make friends with a demon right? There’s nice ones… kind of… 

Beel. He can make friends with Beel.

Like Simeon, he does feel bad that they seem so sad all the time… but unlike the older angel, he’s a bit more understanding that this is just how they are and enjoys his time with them regardless. (It helps a lot that just being around this little bean of a boy can lift their spirits anyway).

And you know what’s even better for him? When Lord Diavolo gives the MC tickets to things that they don’t want to go to, sometimes they’ll invite him along or give them to him instead! 

He’s gone to the Devil’s Coast with MC and Simeon sooo many times by now and he loves it!! Maybe the Devildom isn’t so bad after all, I mean, it can be a lot of fun when you go to the right places, anyway.

Solomon

Oh, he finds them both deeply fascinating and utterly terrifying - so just his sort of test sub-er, person!

He kids (somewhat), Solomon isn’t that dumb/lacking in self-preservation instinct. Experimenting on a child of death in a land of the dead (even if it’s not their “home turf”) would be asking for trouble. They’d have more than enough ammunition to fight him off and if their father found out? Immortality wouldn’t even begin to save him...

That being said, questions aren’t necessarily experiments… and oh boy, does he have a lot of them.

If the MC isn’t being pestered by Diavolo or the brothers, then they’re probably having to put up with Solomon nipping at their heels trying to get them to use their powers or answer all sorts of “innocent” scientific questions…

“MC, reanimation of Greek dead requires a blood offering, correct? Do you have to sacrifice animals for that process or do you allow them to feast on your own?”

“MC, when you’re controlling a skeleton do you move the body as a whole or do you have to animate each individual bone due to their lack of ligaments?”

“Think fast!! Oh look, you just caught the skull of my good friend, Richard! Could you bring him back from that, or should I fetch the rest of him?” 🙂

They put up with it because, believe it or not, he’s not nearly the weirdest person they’ve ever met (a lot of crazy people drift in and out of the land of the dead…) and well… they’re a pretty lonely person too so it’s not like they have a lot of standards when it comes to friendships anyway.

But the second they breathe a word of this to Barbs or Diavolo, this boy is on his way to a royal restraining order… Where does he even get those skulls…?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me undateables #obey me datables #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me demigods #obey me requests

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood

When Y/N moved to Hampstead she was unaware of the implications the decision would have on the course of the rest of her life.

or

Harry is Y/N’s eccentric neighbour who sweeps her up in the whirlwind that is his life

this gif bc its maybe my favorite clip of him EVER holy fuck - this is the harry of my dreams this is the harry of i live in the neighbourhood

HEY YALL it’s been a minute and I missed yall so much and I’m just about to be on break so maybe i’ll be back to posting writing regularly but with school its so hard and I think I’ve been working on this for months so yeah <3 lol PLS PLS PLS leave me feedback and reblogs and that stuff bc otherwise my writing just feels...empty and you have no idea the smile i get when even just the tags say like “god this was everything” it can be anything honestly but it keeps my passion up. Thank you again and hope you enjoy.

Word Count: ~10k | Warnings: swearing probably? no smut (yet), rich and famous harry - mentions of Taylor Swif 

-

She considered herself an average young woman in her mid twenties. She liked screaming Taylor Swift and Megan Thee Stallion songs alone in her car and thrifting on weekends. She hated cable because of commercials and when doordash didn’t deliver all of her order. She had asthma when she worked out or the air quality was bad. She had dumb celebrity crushes that her friends and her still laughed over with every new instagram post. She had hopes and dreams she had yet to achieve and she had past trauma that many would never know about, especially at first glance.

Sure, she was successful. She would admit that. How else would she be able to afford even the modest little house she had found in Hampstead? She had studied international business in college and hopped on a plane to London the first chance she got. After a few years of a more than decent paycheck and an advantageous stimulus check from her kind parents, she was able to move out of her starter flat into the suburbs. The definitive push for the move was two-fold. Her parents wanted her to take her dog and her apartment complex was strict on no pets. Then her promotion at work - which included a pay raise - made it hard to wave off taking full ownership of her childhood ten-pound best friend.

So with life happening as it usually does, Y/N first found herself scouring Zillow, then touring homes in the area, and finally standing outside a three bedroom, two bath, two-story cream house in Hampstead. Her house.

The little moving truck she had rented sat beside her as she stared at her future. The realtor had told her they would be there in ten minutes. For the next ten minutes all Y/N had to do was keep herself from combusting, or worse, sobbing.

She felt overwhelmed already. Renting a flat in London was one way to describe herself as independent. Owning a home in Hampstead seemed like a whole new level of adulthood she wasn’t sure if she was prepared for.

After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, Y/N walked up to the gate that kept her front yard narrowly separated from the sidewalk. She lifted one hand from beneath the box she clutched tightly to her chest to push past the iron-rod gateway. The garden was cute, a little bland, and she thought to herself that maybe she’d develop some gardening skills now that she had her own front yard. The thought made her smile a little, refraining from laughing aloud while on her lonesome, since she had never taken interest in gardening before. But this house. This house. It was a new beginning. It was a fucking unwritten journal. Blank film. Unknown territory. She could be anyone in this house.

She gently placed the cardboard box on the first step up to the front door. There was no porch, but she couldn’t complain. It was gorgeous and she was lucky to get it at the price she did. The house was cream with dark blue accents and a grey shingled roof. Lots of windows. It was classic and it was hers.

After the realtor came with her keys and made sure everything seemed alright, Y/N’s couple of friends, Amélie and Daniel, arrived with their cars filled with items she had needed picking up from various stores. They helped her move her stuff into the house. Thankfully it was already half furnished, meaning she didn’t have to go out and buy beds or couches or any of those big items that are both expensive and a hassle to deal with.

By the time the evening had rolled around, everything was in the house and it actually seemed semi put together. Y/N looked around, sweat apparent on her face and hands on her hips, proud of what she had accomplished. The nerves from earlier had been drowned by pride.

-

The next day, she woke up from her first night in the house. It felt like a dream even though she was sure she was awake.  

She had to navigate her way to the airport today to pick up her dog from his long flight and then mainly settle into the house. Her house sat on Sherwood Avenue, one of the many streets in Hampstead. It’s neighboring houses were much larger. The ones directly next to and across from her weren’t drastically bigger but what she had yet to learn was that next to the house across from her there were two houses that had been joined together by their slightly eccentric owner. A man who would be the match that ignited the flame that was the rest of her life.

This unknown fact quickly became known after Y/N’s first few weeks in her new neighbourhood. The eccentric - more so absurdly rich - neighbor who conjoined the houses was Harry Styles.

The first time they crossed paths she wasn’t even aware of it. It was the day she moved in. He had been out for his usual morning run and was rounding the corner when she had pulled up in her moving van. Once inside his home, he snoopily watched on as his neighbour began to move in. He hadn’t taken note of much about her, just that she was new and that she had a nice pair of jeans on that day.

The second time, Y/N was convinced she needed to get her eyes checked because there was no way that she had just seen Harry Styles key himself into the house across the way from her. There was no way that she had moved into the same area as him, let alone the same street. It seemed far more plausible that she needed a psych evaluation or a strong glasses prescription.

But the third instance of them crossing paths, she was proven wrong. She was on her way back from the neighbourhood park when she saw a guy jogging towards her. With a yellow beanie and a black Columbia sweatshirt paired with running shorts and shoes, he was hard to ignore running straight towards her. The iconic curls, strong jawline, and soft green eyes were dead giveaways this time. After making brief eye contact as their paths literally crossed, she felt herself make a little face of odd interest. Her head quirked and her eyes narrowed, lips pursed with slight confusion. That was definitely him.

After that, she found herself seeing Harry around the neighbourhood a relatively good amount. She’d see him at the park, at the coffee shop, on their street, and more. They didn’t speak. She really didn’t think he would want to be bothered by his neighbours and she certainly wasn’t willing to test the theory. They sometimes gave a small smile of acknowledgement but nothing really friendly. Just ‘you exist and I know that’.

-

Fridays are Y/N’s favorite day. It’s the beginning of the weekend, she never has to go into work and it’s simply a nice day. People are happier, they smile brighter and it just seems like the world is a little better than usual.

Friday was especially amazing today because her childhood best friend, Cate, was arriving at London Heathrow in the evening. Y/N had begged Cate to fly out to see the new house in person and Cate had finally found the time to run away to England for a week.

She shut her front door carefully behind her and placed her headphones in her ears. Rori, that little terrier, who had made a similar flight to see Y/N’s place not too long ago, scampered out the door with her and jumped happily at her legs as she fiddled with her phone. Her coat ruffles around her disturbed from the morning air. It’s blanket-like fabric that consisted of a deep blue backdrop with felt giraffes sewn on it, kept her warm while she walked. With her mind racing with weekend plans and ideas for her and Cate to do both in Hampstead and the city, she crossed the street like usual and began to walk with her dog to the coffee shop for her morning tea.

Unlike usual, she fumbled just as she was putting her phone in her pocket and bumped into something large and definitely not sedentary.

“I’m so sorry!” She blushed and moved backwards from the man who had just been shutting his own front gate to head somewhere.

“S’alright. No harm, no foul.” He looks down at her and her dog. Rori seems excited by the stranger and sniffs him eagerly. A single paw prodding at the man’s long leg.

She grimaces, hearing the voice and stepping back allows her to fully recognize who she had just bumped into. Her neighbour. The runner. Harry Styles.

“Sorry.” She mutters again as Rori continues to prod at Harry’s leg.

She tries to coax Rori away, but Harry simply smiles and leans down to the small dog.

“Hi there buddy,” he coos and rubs the top of the fluffy dogs head, in between his pointy ears, “What’s your name?”

“Rori.” She states easily, Harry’s eyes flickering to her smoothly. Rori makes a smile babbling noise that sounds a bit like a tiny roar - hence the name - and Harry chuckles to himself.

“He’s really adorable,” he finally says and straightens up from his admiring of the dog.

The grimace becomes more of a smile on her face and she mumbles a “Thank You”.

As her neighbour - who hasn’t introduced himself (which wasn’t necessary, but still) or bothered to ask for her introduction - seems to be about to say something new when his phone begins to vibrate obnoxiously. He twitches, his large hands immediately going to his pockets for the important device. He checks the message and looks back at her face.

“Sorry, I have to run...um,” he’s not sure what to say. He really does have to go, but he doesn’t even know his neighbour’s name. He’ll have to make sure to get it at some point in the near future. Especially now that he’s acquainted with her dog.

“No worries,” she smiles completely this time, relieved for the whole interaction to be over. She felt like she was going to explode with each passing moment. In the presence of a legendary musician, c’mon, who wouldn’t be freaking out. All she could think about was how Harry Styles now knew her dog’s name. What the fuck!

-

Upon arriving at the airport, she waited patiently for Cate to walk out of the customs area.

When she did, the two young women began jumping up and down excitedly, Y/N squealing only slightly. They hugged and began chattering intensely, catching up on lost time that generally occurs when you live an ocean apart.  

Finally, one comment rings through the constant back and forth and Cate stops.

“Wait, what did you just say,” she questions as they begin walking to catch an uber back to Hampstead.

“I think my house might be haunted?” Y/N’s voice raising because she’s unsure if that’s what Cate was talking about.

“No, no, the thing after that. I think I must’ve misheard you.”

“Harry Styles is my neighbour?” Y/N��s brows raise as she looks over at her best friend, curious to know what she will say.

“Yes! Explain. Now!”

“It’s not really a big deal. It’s a nice neighbourhood, it makes sense that celebrities of his caliber want to live there.”

“That is not explaining. You have to introduce us!”

As they climb into their uber and settle in for the short ride back to Hampstead, Y/N sighs and tells Cate everything she knows.

“We’ve only just spoken today and I’ve been here for a couple weeks. He lives across the street and down one, I guess. I just see him around, it’s not like he knows who I am. He didn’t even get my name today, just Rori’s.” She laughs lightly, still finding it funny that Harry knows her dog’s name.

Cate nods, leaning in slightly to her best friend, hardly able to contain her awestruckness from the story and baffledness at Y/N’s calmness. “So, like, when do I get to meet him?”

“Girl, I don’t fucking know. Never, if you’re going to act wild. I don’t want the neighbourhood to think I’m not chill.”

“Sometimes…” Cate starts and leans away from Y/N jokingly, “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

They both smile, bumping elbows silently. The song on the radio fading in louder as their words die out.

-

The next day, Y/N took Cate to the local park. It was expansive and connected to the football fields that local teams would play at. The park section was a luscious green that was maintained with copious amounts of watering by the township.

She and Cate settled on a patch of grass near a slender tree that would offer some shade if the sun’s rays became too harsh. The quilt they sat on was something her grandmother had made her when she was maybe 8 years old, meaning it was torn in places and completely worn in a different shade of pink than it had been initially.

They set up their picnic and played music, enjoying the sunny day. Something rare and fleeting as the fall began to creep up on Hampstead.

They eat and catch up on life for about an hour. Basking in the sunlight, Y/N had laid on her back and was staring up at the clouds passing along the sky. Cate was carefully watching their surroundings, simply taking in her friend’s new home, but possibly for another reason too.

“Hey, isn’t that…” Cate trails off, trying to subtly nod in the direction of an approaching figure.

Y/N sits up, her hands holding her up from behind her. Her hair fails in front of her shoulders slightly and it’s a little disheveled from being mused in the grass. She looks discreetly in the direction of Cate’s nodding and then looks at her friend and rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but don’t say anything, he might not even notice me and I’m certainly not calling out to him.”

‘Illicit Affairs’ by Taylor Swift is playing off her speaker and as she’s about to change it, Cate turns it up slightly. They share a glare with one another before trying to act casual again, even though both of their eyes kept flickering to the man who seemed to be continuing closer and closer to their set up.

It became clear that Harry was approaching them after all and Y/N tried to carry on an unbothered conversation with Cate, which was hard with the constant nudging of Cate’s foot on her shin.

He stops a mere foot away from their blanket, beaming at the two young women lounging on the ground. He makes an attempt at a casual wave, his large hand splaying his fingers quickly, before opening his mouth to speak.

Cate beats him to the punch. “Hello there!”

“Erm, hi!” He says nicely to her and then looks at Y/N.

“No Rori today?” He inquires.

“No,” she smiles, slightly blushing at the fact that he remembered her and her dog. “He’s napping.”

“Ah, I see,” He pauses, “I feel like I need to apologize.” He continues.

“For what?” She questions and Cate watches on anxiously, mesmerized by Harry and dying to see what happens next.

“I ran off before I could even ask for your name or introduce myself. It was terribly rude.”

“Oh,” she can’t stop smiling, “It’s nothing to apologize for, I’m sure you’re busy. Besides I had to get my day started, otherwise I would’ve been late picking her up.” She points to Cate who smiles sheepishly, still internally screaming over the fact that her friend is able to talk so easily to a celebrity.

Harry nods and looks at Cate again, “Just visiting I take it then?”

She nods quickly, words escaping her. Y/N chuckles under her breath and swoops in to save her friend any embarrassment. “Cate’s my best friend and she’s been kind enough to take time out of her extremely busy life to come look at my new house.”

He hums, still standing a respectful distance from their set-up. “Nice to meet you, Cate,” he says very kindly. Then he laughs, but in a way that is like he’s beside himself. The two women both quirk their heads at him. Y/N squints her eyes slightly, trying to understand the guy she is talking to and connecting him with the man that is all over the news all of the time for his musical genius.

“Now I know your dog and best friend’s names but still not yours. At this point, I’m begging you to tell me.”

They all laugh and Y/N feels nervous for the first time since Harry had walked up.

“You first,” she smiles slyly.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but then go back to normal. Harry was very smart, she likely knew his name, but one, she was trying to be funny and two, she was also trying to be courteous. He preferred to introduce himself rather than just be told who he is, even if people already knew. It allowed him to maintain some normalcy.

“‘M Harry,” He says with a smile.

“Alright.” She says and then remains quiet.

Harry’s lips quirk up in a faint smile, amused at her expression.

“I thought it was a ‘show me yours and I’ll show you mine’ type of situation or was I mistaken?” He finally asks when she remains silent still.

The two young women laugh and Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, both feeling flustered and completely in control at the same time.

“You weren’t mistaken, I was just thinking.” Then she pauses again and Cate thinks Harry is about to combust and Harry thinks he’s going to as well with all the anticipation that has been built up over his neighbor’s name, even though he was pretty sure he’d heard it in passing at one point or another but had forgotten quickly afterwards.

“It’s Y/N.”

Harry releases a facetious sigh of relief, “Oh thank god! Finally!” His words quickly turn into an infectious laugh that is paired with a shining smile and she feels like she’s swooning right then and there. The control has gone out the window and she’s taken with her neighbor. He’s wonderful in that moment and she forgets about Cate or the park or anything. It’s just Harry and how it seems like he’s smiling just for her.

“Now that I’ve gotten your name,” he smiles pointedly at her after his laughter has faded away. The smile doesn’t leave his face though, his eyes still crinkled, his dimples still showing.

She nods, encouraging him to continue. Cate feels like she’s watching a movie unfold in front of her and she wishes she could record the entire interaction.

“I can finally ask you, Y/N, where did you get that fabulous coat I saw you wearing yesterday?”

She twitches further upright, eyes bringing themselves directly inline with Harry’s gaze. “Oh,” she inhales, “The giraffe one, yeah?”

He nods.

“I got it from a Goodwill years ago. It’s some vintage company that used to only make sleepwear. I looked up the tag one time and it doesn’t exist anymore. Super cool, though. Wish I could buy more.”

“Yeah,” Harry says eagerly, even taking a step towards the women, “It was so intriguing. Maybe, if you didn’t mind of course -” he falters, losing his courage for a moment, “you could bring it over and my stylist could check it out. I would love something similar and I’m sure he could figure it out.”

She shrugs. It wasn’t crazy, especially not for Harry - she assumed. She was certain he often found things he liked but there was only one of them so he would just order his own. She couldn’t help the pride that was swelling inside her though it that moment. Harry Styles liking her jacket so much he asked where it was from and then wanting his stylist to look at it. She’d jump for joy when she was in the safety of her private home later tonight with Cate.

“One condition,” she says and Harry’s brows quirk amusedly at her.

“You are a very tit for tat person,” he muses.

“Fair’s fair,” she shrugs again and then looks around her quickly, “It’s simple so don’t get too worked up over it, buddy.”

He laughs slightly again and tries to figure out what she’s looking for. When she extends a scratched up, sticker-covered point and shoot film camera he smiles.

“Can you take a picture of Cate and I? It’s always just the two of us so we never have anyone to take pictures of us together.”

Harry grins at this and her sincere face. Cate is a little taken aback, because while it’s technically true, it’s not entirely factual. They have plenty of film pictures of them - maybe not recently though. And she wasn’t going to question Y/N right now. It seemed like she knew what she was doing.

Harry takes the camera and begins to look through the viewfinder. The women scoot closer together and Cate wraps her arm around Y/N’s shoulder. She leans in to press her cheek against her best friend. They smile up at the camera and Harry crouches slightly to get a better angle.

“Alright,” he mumbles, “Ready?...Cheese!”

Their smiles stay hung on their face as they listen for the click and when the faint sound befalls their ears, Cate laughs and Y/N pulls away. She reaches forward for the camera, her hand easily brushing Harry’s large one.

Their smiles meet each other and Cate can’t help but notice how they grow as the two of them look at one another.

“Thank you,” Y/N says sweetly and pulls back to retake her seat on the blanket.

Harry straightens up, his grin falling back into that signature smirk. “No problem.”

“So-” He begins but she cuts him off.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He clears his throat, feeling thrown off. “Yeah, sure. I guess next time I see you we can talk about when a good time would be for your jacket to come over?”

His voice raises at the end of his question a little more than usual, he’s trying to get her to bite, but she doesn’t seem like someone who is easily thrown off. He is trying to read her and she’s been completely cool the entire time. It’s intriguing. Even more so than the jacket, even though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it, it wasn’t really his focus when he walked across the park to her and Cate.

“Yep! It was nice finally meeting you Harry.”

He feels the cue to walk off and says his farewells. As he walks off, back on course to his intended destination, his head is filled with questions. Most important of them being when he would see her again.

Cate and Y/N watch him walk towards the football fields. They see him meet with a group of men and it seems like they’re there to practice or play a game. Y/N couldn’t be sure.

“He likes you!” Cate finally bursts out.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Stop trying to make me take the piss. That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

“It’s not! He likes you and you obviously like him, I mean, but we been knew.”

“Having a crush on the famous Harry Styles when you’re 17 is different than me liking my neighbour Harry.”

“But you like him don’t you? He’s even better than he was when he was 19. Now he’s all grown up and established and more your style anyway.”

“Shut up! He could hear you.”

“He really couldn't, he's yards away, you’re just paranoid.” Cate continues to tease and ridicule her best friend over Harry and Y/N is just about ready to up and leave, but she also can’t help but laugh it off.

“I’m literally gonna kick you out if you keep talking,” Y/N says between laughs and the women feel like they’re back in high school losing their minds over the stupidest joke ever.

“Okay, fine. But all I have to say is I will hold this over you when you end up together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, whatever. Just be prepared to wait forever because I can promise you Harry Styles and I are never ending up together.”

--

Two Weeks Later

Y/N walked to her door after hearing the doorbell ring and opened it to find her neighbour standing with his arm raised ready to knock.

“Hey, Harry,” She greeted easily, but not entirely sure why he was here.

They hadn’t really seen each other since their official meeting in the park. It hadn’t bothered her and it hadn’t really bothered Harry either. It seemed like they both had extremely busy lives that they didn’t plan on throwing out the window because they had said they would meet up at some point. She liked that.

Harry had come over because he finally had a break in his schedule and was hoping to talk about the jacket and anything else really. He was interested in getting to know her and he didn’t care to hide it.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go get a coffee or something?” He asked, leaning himself against her door frame now.

Her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen a little bit, not completely sure she heard him correctly.

“Right now?!” She asked incredulously.

She was wearing an oversized grey sweatshirt and black bike shorts that peaked out from underneath the sweatshirt hem. One of her socks was shoved around her ankle while the other was pulled up flat to touch the base of her calf. She didn’t think she was looking the most presentable at the moment. She had been basking in her day off by simply laying on the couch watching hours of Netflix.

He nods, his smile growing on his face. Her flustered expression only made him happier. She was always so nonchalant with him, he wanted to see her a little more antsy.

“Unless you’re busy,” he adds seriously, not wanting to bother her, just wanting to spend time with her.

“No, no. I’m not...I’m not busy. I just wasn’t expecting any plans where I would be required to go out in public. Let me just...um, come inside and then give me five minutes.”

“Sure,” Harry smiles again as he steps into her home.

Her smile is sheepish and much less genuine then the one Harry holds on his face as he takes in her abode. She tells him to make himself comfortable and then runs to her room to try and possibly fix her state in under five minutes.

She tears around her room, heaving off the frumpy sweatshirt and grabbing a long sleeve striped v-neck top she had hanging out half out of her hamper, a sign known to her that while it was clean enough to wear, if she happened to do laundry she should wash it. Slipping it over her head, she walks to her dresser and leans over to open the bottom drawer and unfolds a pair of dark wash oversized jeans. There’s no holes in them and she throws them on the bed so that she can slip out of her current pants. Next, onto the socks, she swaps out the current ones for a fresh black pair and finds her tortoise print boots to flick on. As she just about runs into her en suite bathroom, she zips the two boots up between steps. A quick comb through her hair, deodorant, two spritz of perfume, her eyelash curler and mascara and she’s running back to where Harry is waiting in her living room.

He blinks surprisedly at her promptness, usually giving people more time then what they say they need. She had indeed gotten ready in five minutes. He thought she looked breathtaking. And she felt like she was at a lack for breath in any case.

“It’s a bit cold out,” he glances to the window.

“Isn’t it always?” She smiles, finally catching her breath.

He chuckles and then nods, a smile appearing on his face as he feels a warmth in his chest at her wit.

“Ready?” He checks in.

She nods, grabbing a coat she kept hung by the door.

“Just the coffee shop down the way?” She inquires as they exit the house and she locks the door behind her.

Harry hums, waiting down a step for her to turn around and walk beside him. It was so strange to her, this felt all too normal with him. Like he was just a friend who had come to pick her up for coffee, her neighbor, nothing more.

“Did you hear the new season of the Crown is coming out soon?” Harry asks as they walk shoulder to shoulder (technically since her shoulder wasn’t in line with his).

“Really?” She looks at him, “I love that show!”

“Me too,” He looks at her and smiles happily.

“That’s amazing,” she breathes mostly to herself, half about the show and half about how Harry watches television and that he watches one of her favorite shows.

There’s silence. The brisk air pricking their cheeks as they walk down their street. Their puffs of breath create a slight mist of white ahead of them and then quickly dissipates.

Her eyes flit up to Harry’s chiseled jaw and face and she watches him as his eyes carefully and meaningfully take in his surroundings. Was it her turn to take a stab at conversation? It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence but she just wasn’t sure what was going on.

“You play football right?” She says finally as they turn onto the next street that would bring them closer to the café they both frequented.

She remembered seeing him there on several occasions. The tips he left were always overly generous, which she assumed you could do when you were exorbitantly rich. He always smiled when he ordered and knew the baristas by name. His order rarely differed and she hated to admit but she knew his two regulars. His actual “regular” was a 12 ounce black coffee, dark roast, no cream and no sugar. The other, his “I’ll actually have”, was a 16 ounce iced green tea, no cream and no sugar.

She couldn’t help that she was observant and that when ‘H’ was called at the bar she looked at what was pushed out, patiently waiting for him to come snatch it up with a smile and nod to the workers before he left. Sometimes he’d even smile at her over the lid of his drink as he exited the establishment. It was warm and inviting and she felt good about the twinkle in his eye that never seemed to waver no matter the day.

Now they were going there together and she’d have to pretend like she’d never noticed what he got as a drink.

He responds to her question with another glance at her and a simple “yes”. His hands shove into his pockets and one side of his pink lips quirk up. He continues, “I’m on a local team with some mates. We’re in a little competition with our league. The final match is coming up this Sunday actually...You should come.”

He says it so casually it almost doesn’t catch her off guard. Harry inviting her to his football game, maybe this was going to be her life now. Going to her neighbours football match. Going to Harry Styles’ football match.

“Sunday…” She sounds out, choosing to look out into the distance instead of at him. “What time?”

“Eight.”

“P.M. right?” She responds quickly, worried since she never wakes up that early and rarely before 10 a.m. on the weekends for that matter.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

They’ve come upon the café and he’s quick to grab the handle to open the door and let her go before him. She can’t stop the blush and smile that spread on her face as she ducks her head into the warm and cozy shop. Men had opened doors for her before and she really thought of herself as a strong woman who didn’t need a man for anything, but something about Harry’s action felt especially, and specifically, chivalrous. Why, she had no idea.

Neither of them stop to look at the menu. They were regulars and they both knew that about each other as well. He gestures for her to go first and she mutters her thanks before turning to the patiently waiting barista. She orders and is about to hand over her card when Harry suavely steps in and says, “Don’t worry about it. I invited you with me, I’ll pay.”

It was both completely unexpected and expected at the same time. Knowing she’d never win this fight, she thanked him again, glanced at the man taking her order and then stepped aside. Harry orders his own drink and then pays for both. Today he leaves double the amount he usually leaves for tip, she assumes since it’s two drinks he was paying for.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says quietly to him once they’re in a corner of the café waiting for their drinks.

He stands slightly slumped against the wall, closer to her height right now. He only shrugs, his good natured smile not once leaving his face since he entered this place.

“I wanted to,” he said simply right as the drinks were ready since it wasn’t particularly busy on this random Friday afternoon.

They glance outside and see that it’s begun to drizzle while they’ve been inside. She sighs, having hoped to walk around a little after being inside all day.

Instead, they sit at the corner table in the café, across from each other. She moves on from the paying thing, knowing it was simply how this guy probably operated most of his life.

He got a black coffee today, the cold and rain likely contributing to that choice.

As one pop song fades out, slightly under the sound of the coffee machines, she’s about to tell Harry she’s pretty sure she can make his final football match when ‘Cardigan’ fades in. It’s the second time a Taylor Swift song has been playing while she’s been in the presence of Harry and they were conversing. She tries to ignore one of her favorite songs at the moment. Harry doesn’t seem to pay much mind to it. His foot is tapping against his other, but it’s been tapping like that since they sat down.

“I think I could probably make it to your game,” she says finally after a pause and a sip of her own drink.

Harry grins at the response and launches into how great it will be if they win and how happy everyone will be. She smiles along and doesn’t notice the slight head swaying to the song that she’s begun.

“Fan of Taylor?” Harry inquires and Y/N’s face drops, eyes widening cartoonishly.

She stutters, a nervous laugh leaving her mouth before she can actually say something. How does she respond about liking Taylor Swift to a man who counts her as an ex. She’s at a loss.

“Yeah, uh,” she finally starts.

Harry watches her curiously, obviously noticing her discomfort as his question.

“I used to not really consider myself a fan. I don’t really follow her just because I don’t really follow...um...musicians,” she chokes out the last word realizing Harry fits that category. “But, after folklore, I don’t know, this album really spoke to me. I also really like Lover and...uh” she pauses again, sticking on 1989, an album she has argued with her friends about how it’s basically a tell all of the man before her and Taylor’s relationship.

He nods, hoping she’ll continue. He wanted to get to know her and he kind of liked seeing her squirm. “1989?” He finally supplies.

Her blush isn’t able to be covered this time. If her hair didn’t fall in front of her ears she was sure they’d be flushed with blood.

Then she draws out of her own self stress and looks at the smooth man before her and grows calm. He was amazing at winding her up and she didn’t want to seem like some young, impressionable fangirl to him. So, she squared her shoulders and straightened up in her chair.

“Yes, it was pop perfection as one of my college friends liked to say. I’d always listen to it at the gym.” Then she pauses, taking a measured breath, gaining her confidence back. Her eyes meet his, “Is there any songs off it that you particularly enjoy, Mr. Styles.”

He chuckles, mostly because of her emphasis on ‘Style’.

“Shake it off?” He asks.

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs and he joins in with her.

When they catch their breaths from laughing, they simultaneously take sips of their drinks and settle their eyes back on one another. Exes and songs written about oneself weren’t exactly the topics Harry had in mind for the coffee outing he had asked Y/N out on, but talks of exes had never been this funny with anyone else. He was grateful for her playfulness, her demeanor.

“Can I ask you something personal?” She asks quietly and seriously.

“I think we’re past that question, love,” he responds.

“Yeah, I guess,” she pauses and just about whispers, “Pretty much all of them are about you right?”

He shrugs again, his felt coat rustling around his seat. “We never really talked about every single song.”

She leans forward at the ‘we’ Harry is using about himself and Taylor Swift.

“But when I listen to the songs, I hear us in just about every one but a few.”

“Wow,” she breathes and sips her drink. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lived through something that intense and then someone commemorated in a masterpiece.”

“Do you have a favorite on that album?” He asks, moving on from her revelation.

“I love ‘I know places’, it has a cool sound. But I also really love ‘Wonderland’. They both have kind of dark sounds, yet it still is like what you have is so special that the bad bits are worth it. I don’t know, it just seems like a tv show. I don’t think my life could ever be that crazy or dramatic.” She doesn’t notice her use of ‘you’ because she had meant it as a form of analyzing the song theoretically as she had done hundreds of times with her friends,  but this time the ‘you’ is literally the ‘you’ the song is talking about.

“Love can turn anyone’s life chaotic.” Harry muses.

The green eye’s that flashed at Taylor throughout that album look at Y/N from across the table and she feels a flip in her stomach at his tone.

Maybe he notices her mild discomfort, maybe that’s just who he is. But after a beat, Harry’s onto the next topic on his mind. He launches into how he’s just returned from Scotland for a shoot for something so undercover he can’t even divulge to her, much to his dismay. She’s taken aback since she didn’t consider her someone Harry would divulge any of his private matters to, but it seemed like he already considered her a confidant. Just not for that. He wants it to be a surprise.

She smiles and listens attentively. She wonders as he goes on about his interesting yet absurdly lavish life whether he even knows what regular life is like anymore. Or if he’d even enjoy it if he experienced it.

Sure, coffee and football were plenty part of regular life . But the football league was something novel to Harry. He had just gotten to do it and he was thrilled by its normalcy.

She regarded him carefully, unsure what the next step was in this budding friendship. Was it dangerous to get involved with someone’s life which seemed to be filled with whirlwind rigor and constant change.

She liked her chaos, don’t get her wrong. She felt like she often was the odd one out in life. Always thinking differently than the ones around her. She often was the one to suggest spontaneous late night trips around town or exploration of an abandoned building known for spooky stories. She liked inviting friends over for themed parties for no specific occasions and she liked taking film pictures of friends like they were models even though it was only for her and her memories. She thought of herself as silly and fun, but what Harry described as his chaotic fun actually was regimented tight schedules of constant travel and work. Interesting experiences came out of that constant travel and work, but didn’t seem like something she necessarily wanted to get herself wrapped up in.

After coffee, they leave the café and it’s pouring now. Instead of going home, Harry insists on walking her to her place. She relents, realizing, once again, that Harry wasn’t someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. She then invites him in because it’s the polite thing to do. And Harry being Harry accepts.

“Want a dry sweatshirt while you wait?” She asks as she slips off her wet shoes and jacket in the entryway. Harry follows suit, his knit sweater being pelted with rain for the last eight minutes left him feeling cold and shivery.

He nods as he toes off his shoes and ventures back to the living room she had him wait in a few hours ago.

“Here,” She says as she tosses a grey sweatshirt in his direction. She believes it's her one from earlier, an innocuous pullover with ‘London’ in collegiate lettering on the front. He catches it as she rounds the corner to turn up the heater.

Her mistake was being so careless to not look at the sweatshirt before handing it over to her neighbor. Anyone else, maybe they wouldn’t have questioned it. But Harry, how could he not.

“What’s this?”

“A sweatshirt,” she doesn’t spare him a glance on the coach as she fiddles with the thermostat.

“It’s one of my sweatshirts,” Harry says and she can hear the smile on his face.

“That’s impossible, I’ve never borrowed-” Her brows had raised at what he said but now her words fall short.

He didn’t mean one of his personal sweatshirts that she possibly borrowed if they were better friends. No. He meant his merchandise.

“It was a gift,” she sighs as she turns to face him. He’s now wearing the sweatshirt proudly and grinning up at her smugly.

She rolls her eyes when he gives her a knowing smile.

“I didn’t know that it was the one I was handing you. Honest!”

“I thought you didn’t “keep up” with musicians,” Harry says playfully, his fingers making quotes appropriately.

“I don’t.” Her tone is serious as she plops on the couch beside Harry.

“I enjoy your music from time to time. Is that a crime?!” She finally exclaims when she can’t handle Harry’s knowing smirk.

“No it’s not, you could have just told me you were a fan!” She tries to stop him and protest that she wouldn’t consider herself a fan, but he continues, “I still would have wanted to have been friends.You’re one of the liveliest neighbors I’ve got. Everyone else on the street is rather dull.”

She chuckles, remembering finding out quickly that the street wasn’t a lively bunch.  

“I just wouldn’t say I’m a fan,” she presses and sits across from him.

He continues smiling like he knows the truth.

“I don’t think you’ve met an average person in awhile, Harry.” She finally says after they sat in silence for a few minutes because they were both too stubborn to be the first to talk.

“I would hardly call you average if that’s what you’re implying, Y/N.” He nods her way and he shifts on her plush couch, his legs adjusting themselves on their own accord. “And I know plenty of average people,” he adds huffily.

“I normally wouldn’t either, but compared to who you seem to surround yourself, I very much am. And that’s not meant to be a jab at anyone involved.”

His right hand sneaks up to his head to scratch at the base of a particularly perfect curl. His eyes squint a bit as his mind processes her claim.

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’m just curious to see if you’d actually like me in your life. It seems like you want to be friends with me and that’s great, but realistically I don’t know how much I would fit into it.”

Harry scoffs, “That’s literally bullshit, just relax. I’m so chill you won’t even know what to do with me.”

Now it’s her turn to scoff. “Chill?!” She asks incredulously. Harry nods with a seriousness she hadn’t seen before.

“When’s the next time you’re flying off to another country for work?”

Harry pauses, “Um...the day after the final match. I’m beginning to film a movie, so I’ll be there for a month.”

“Busy bee,” she muses and they both chuckle.

There’s something about the somber look Harry is giving her. His eyes twinkled in the coffee shop and with playful winks she was excited to be in his presence. But after she mentions when his next trip is, he seems saddened. There’s skepticism behind his eyes and maybe he doesn’t like being challenged about who he is from other people, especially those who are new in his life.

But that’s who Y/N is, she’s straightforward and doesn’t lie to someone. If Harry was now her friend, she was going to tell it like it is to him. That personality trait she worried wouldn’t make her long for his world.

“So the cardigan? Do you have it here?” Harry changes the subject, clearly not wanting to actually consider a realistic friendship together instead just charging ahead with no hesitation. Whatever happened they would deal with it as it came. Maybe she should just go with the flow, let herself be swept up into his madness. Maybe it would be easier than fighting it.

“No.”

“Oh?”

“I do, I was joking. Where else would it be?” Her tone is light, trying to get back the shine she had seen Harry exhibit before it had vanished.

Maybe that was Harry’s effect on people. He was vibrant and like an Elton John song. You never wanted that shine to go away, never wanted the song to end. Never wanted him to stop shining his light on you. She felt this happening in just a few hours with him. When he was happy so was she and when he wasn’t entirely shining she wanted to do whatever she could to get it back.

A smile curls on his face and his green eyes narrow slightly. He’s trying to figure her out, know what she’s all about.

“Do you want to go and grab it?” His voice sweetening, almost like a tease. Maybe he means to bite his lip, maybe he doesn’t, but the effect on her is nonetheless earthshaking.

She pops up and smiles back, happy to have made him happy. As she walks out of the room to go get the cardigan that had started this all, her head tilts and she furrows her brow wondering why she felt such a sense of pride just for making him happy.

Would this man cause her to finally put someone else’s wishes ahead of hers?

-

“Are you on your way?”

She listens to Harry’s slightly worried voice crackle over the speaker of her phone as she shuts her door with the hand not holding her phone to her ear. His voice is raspy and muffled. She assumes it’s from the cold air of London at night and the scarf he is likely got wrapped around his neck.

“Yes! Jeez, I’m on my way. Walking over right now.”

It’s the final match for Harry’s football team and if they win the game then they get a trophy and it’s all Harry has been talking about since they got coffee and she handed over her cardigan.

Harry huffed an “alright” on the other side of the line and she called a “see you soon” before hanging up.

He was both eager for Y/N to come and possibly meet some of his teammates and a few of his close friends who he had invited and for her to arrive so that she wasn’t walking out late at night alone. He hadn’t known her for long, but he felt a certain protectiveness over her. She was relatively alone here, only two friends at work that she had mentioned and everyone else lived far away. She said she didn’t mind it, but Harry had a hard time understanding it since he surrounded himself with his friends as much as he could and was constantly either traveling or having them travel to see him.

He had even contemplated inviting her to come to Los Angeles with him for a month, but knew she would remind him of her ever important job that she couldn’t just randomly take a month off.

He’d have to ask her what exactly she did because every time he tried to remember, it always slipped his mind.

When her figure came into sight below the fluorescent lights, he breathed a sigh of relief. A grin spread on his face as she beamed at him and waved a bit. He didn’t understand how she couldn’t see how special she was. Every time he saw her he felt himself straighten up and feel a bubbling in his chest. Her smile was infectious and the way her eyes glittered when she looked away quickly and then returned eye contact made him want to stay in her presence forever.

“You made it!” Harry said and scooped her up in his arms, not realizing just how happy he was to see her, swinging her around in a half circle.

She laughs in surprise, but appreciates the warmth Harry’s hug offers her. She’s not quite sure they had ever touched each other before this moment beside shoulder brushes and hand touches. Nothing so...purposeful.

“I made it,” she confirms and pats him on his broad shoulders.

Questions in her mind raced as she questioned whether it was normal for friendships to happen like this. She knew in college friendships could happen this quickly. And that’s when it dawned on her, she really hadn’t made a new friend since college and that was why everything with Harry was so odd to her. She had forgotten what new friendship was. She needed to stop questioning everything and just live in the moment with a person she really liked being with.

Harry’s hands move from her waist and one stays to lead her forward so he can introduce her to some of his mates, as he had promised.

She felt at home in that moment. His hand on the small of her back, his heat radiating off of him and her hair swept behind her ears and her cheek pressed to his shoulder staring up at him sweetly.

She meets Charlotte, a member of Harry’s band who lives in London, her boyfriend, Mitch (who had just happened to find himself in Hampstead this weekend), Ben, and a few more people she couldn’t remember all the names of.

Harry’s team wins the game and Y/N’s not sure if she’s ever seen someone so happy to win an adult league football match. There wasn’t any official trophy except the one Harry had made himself and said he would even give to the other team if they won. It was engraved with the words “The World’s Greatest Football Team of Stars Ever. October 22, 2020”. It doesn’t even make sense but she’d been holding it for the entire night as he played.

He goes down the line of his friends who have been watching and gives them all jubilant kisses on the lips. When he reaches Y/N she holds out the trophy and he grins and gives her a kiss on the cheek. His lips are surprisingly soft and his scratchy stubble tickles her and she swiftly pulls back, a smile on her face and blush on her cheeks nonetheless.

Charlotte and Mitch share a look between the two of them and Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at the interaction. His eyes narrow just as they had when Harry had strutted over to the group with Y/N before the game. He had happily named everyone and she had shaken all of their hands with a warm smile on her lips. Ben had regarded her warily and she had shaken it off as the chill of the night air. But there it was again, not quite trusting of the neighbour girl Harry had just randomly befriended a few days ago.

The team and the friends of the team decide they deserve to celebrate this win, mostly at the request of Harry.

Y/N tries to find a time to leave, to return to her place so she can prepare for her day at work tomorrow. But no excuses will be heard from Harry and she has a hard time saying no to his sparkling eyes and gorgeous grin that she’s growing far too accustomed to.

She’s ushered down to the closest pub with the rest of them and finds herself chatting with Charlotte’s boyfriend. He’s the most...normal. She’s not sure how to explain it, but he doesn’t seem to be regarding her as different, unlike every other one of Harry’s friends. They were all perfectly nice and cordial with her, but she just felt like she wasn’t a part of their group, their world and she didn’t know how to explain it.

Charlotte and Mitch are rather nice too, but they’re more reserved with her. They’re musicians, like Harry, and they somewhat have that air of awareness around them that Harry sometimes gets. She thinks it’s from the fame, having to constantly be wary of who is around you, what everyone is doing, what is happening next. She doesn’t mind it, it’s just not something she’s used to.

She wishes she could just throw back some drinks and she could allow herself to be more...well just be more. More of a presence, more of herself, but she has a job she has to get to bright and early. Tomorrow was Monday and for her that meant work. So she sips a beer that Harry insisted be on his tab and she makes small talk with Charlotte’s boyfriend about how he’s been helping her produce her first EP. Charlotte occasionally pops in when she hears her name, but mostly is conversing with Mitch over something silly. Y/N knows because they keep laughing.  

Harry is going around to just about everyone in the party and she watches as he happily talks with every one of his friends. He’s ecstatic and she wonders if she’s ever experienced happiness like he has.

At midnight she attempts to make a French exit, as her mother always called it, and slip away with little to no farewells, but Harry spots her before she can.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asks loudly, the euphoria of winning his silly little game and drinking a fair amount of pints has him at his peak boisterity.

“I have work tomorrow,” she says warily, slumping slightly from the weight of Harry’s arm slinging around her shoulder.

He turns serious and straightens up slightly, his green eyes looking especially dark in the pubs dim lighting as they look her dead in the eye. “Let me walk you home.”

“I can get home by myself,” she laughs, shrugging off his hold. “Plus, the host can’t leave his own celebration.” She gestures to everyone else happily celebrating on a Sunday, somehow not bothered by the beginning of the average week.

He steps closer, his brow furrowing for the first time that night. One of his large hands raises to his tousled hair and he runs it through the tresses. He even nibbles at his lower lip as he contemplates his decision. Then quickly and suddenly, he makes up his mind,

“No, I’ll escort you. Can’t have my neighbour walk home this late alone. I’ll just leave my card with Mitch. He’ll settle up the tab.” He smiles at his perfect plan and she grimaces feeling slightly embarrassed that he would leave his friends to walk her home. “Won’t you Mitch?” Harry calls as he grabs his coat from the wall next to the door. Mitch simply nods and Harry yells his farewells, Y/N waves meekly.

“That was...interesting,” she mulls over her words as they walk through the cold night air outside of the pub.

“Amazing, right?” Harry speaks over her less enthusiastic voice.

“You have a lot of friends,” she mused, trying to sound less disheartened than she had in her last statement.

Harry only hums and shivers slightly from the cold. His breath comes clearly out in puffs in the cold night air. Y/N’s is muffled by her scarf wrapped tightly up to her chin. She’s tucked his face as far into it as possible but her nose won’t stop from freezing as they walk.

Her hand goes up to it and she rests her palm to the tip of it. The motion grabs Harry’s attention and he looks directly at her curiously.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freezing,” she muffles out, “This helps my cold nose not be so..cold.”

He chuckles and wraps his arm around her shoulder and she easily folds into him, welcoming any warmth right now.

After another moment of silence and them enjoying each other’s warmth and slight smell of whatever perfumes they had chosen earlier that night as well as beer and wood of the pub, Harry nuzzles his head above hers and then asks her something.

“Was that overwhelming for you?”

She’s quiet, thankful his eyes can’t reach hers right now. He was too powerful with those things.

“I, um, a little. I just...I just realized today that I haven’t made a new friend since college outside of work and it was overwhelming just hanging out with you. So all of your friends as well, yeah, it was a bit much for me.”

Harry looks out at the empty street ahead of them and sighs in realization. In his excitement, he hadn’t accounted how she might have felt tonight until just now. He wanted to kick himself for not thinking of her feelings, but other’s feelings slipped his mind so easily sometimes.

They round their street corner and she nuzzles back into his side.

“I’m sorry, love.” He rubs at her outer arm, “I didn’t think about it like that. I was just so excited for my plan to come together. Maybe next time, it’ll just be a couple of them rather than so many?”

“Sure,” she says quickly, wanting to make him happy, knowing how much he cared about his friends. “I feel like we need to hang out more with just you before I osmos into your friend group though if I’m being honest.”

“Well that can definitely be arranged,” he says and reluctantly lets go of her body. They’ve arrived at her door.

“I also want to see the inside of your house at some point.” She tugs at one of his hands before it can disappear into his warm coat pocket. “Houses,” she corrects.

“That can also be arranged,” Harry smiles with his lips closed. Pink lips and rosy cheeks extra bright from the cold. He plays with her fingers as the two stand close to one another, happy for the alone time and chalking the proximity up to heat sharing.

“You leave tomorrow right?” She finally asks.

His head falls and he sighs.

“Yeah…”

“It’s just a month,” she smiles, trying to stop Harry from being so dramatic. Especially when there was no logical reason for him to be so upset over not seeing his neighbour - she keeps telling herself.

“Are you sure you can’t quit your job and just fly out with me?” He pleads.

She throws her head back in laughter and shifts closer to him, her front porch light illuminating and shadowing every perfect place on Harry’s gorgeous face.

“Not even a chance.”

“That is a shame,” he takes an experimental step closer and she feels his breath fan across her cheeks at his last word.

She wrinkles his nose at the smell of his last beer, even though coming from him it was endearing.

Just as she feels him being to shift his head closer, she steps forward and gives him a tight hug.

“Goodnight Harry,” she whispers into his ear, “Safe travels.”

Then she’s stepping back and swiftly unlocking her door. She moves it slowly so as to not wake Rori and then Harry’s left alone and dumbfounded on her doorstep.

He definitely preferred being with her alone, but now he didn’t even have that chance until next month. And nonetheless she had just sidestepped his kiss with such ease he’s not even sure if he meant to kiss her. It had felt right, but why? Because it was cold and picture perfect? Or because he was enchanted by her and liked her as more than a new friend?

She slumps in her kitchen and fixes an Emergen-C to stave off the chill of the night and any germs that might have been lurking around the pub. She hopes when she walks to her bedroom she can check the front porch and see that Harry has gone home because she would hate to turn the light off on him.

How could he have expected her to kiss him just then? They’ve only just met each other a few weeks ago? And he’s Harry Styles and she just lives in the neighbourhood. What the actual fuck had happened to her life?

#not at all proofread #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #part 2 coming #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #coming soon #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #pls share #pls give feedback #ok goodnight #I said id get it up #so I did #that's what he said #I hate myself #also I honestly don't love where this is going but maybe ill fix it #lol

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

#leo knut #sirius black #coops #oknutzy #finn ohara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #friendship #cap and rookie

[buckleyblueyes]

Buddie + 47 "This is home?" 😊

Thank you for your patience, nonnie! I know this took me some time to write and post. Loved this prompt, though! This fic features an appearance by Taylor Kelly, and maybe isn't the most friendly towards her? idk, I wasn’t actively trying to write her to be a bad person or anything, but just in case I thought I'd throw a warning for people who like her/like her and Buck.

Buck yawns and leans back into the cushions of the Diaz couch. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally. They were called to a grizzly pileup on the freeway just before their shift was supposed to end, multiple on scene fatalities, and more that they lost later, in the ambulance. He had a date with Taylor scheduled for after his shift, but he knew before the engine even pulled back into the station that he was going to have to cancel. Not just for himself and his need for rest and recovery, but for Taylor’s sake. He wouldn’t have been a good date in his current state. He texted her from the locker room that his shift had run long and he was going to head home and rest. She texted him back with a “I understand, get some sleep” and that was that.

He followed Eddie home, because neither of them wanted to be alone, and he wanted to see Chris, even for a few minutes before the boy had to go to bed. They exchanged hugs and Buck and Eddie both pressed kisses to the top of Christopher’s head. Ever since Eddie was shot--since he told Buck about his will, since Buck spent the summer living on their couch and taking care of both of them--Buck took on a more parental role with Christopher. They don’t really talk about it, but it’s undeniably true, and Buck loves it. The three of them feel like a family, are a family.

Buck showered at the station, but Eddie hadn’t. Eddie likes to take his time in the shower, making it into a sort of ritual where he scrubs off more than just the grime of the day, but the stress and trauma of it as well. He’s going to be gone awhile. So, Buck settles into the couch and pulls out his phone.

I know it’s not the same, but wanna FaceTime before bed?

Seconds later his phone lights up with the call. He smiles when he answers it.

“Hey, babe!” Her smile is bright and bubbly as always.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, forcing himself to keep his own smile up. “Sorry about our date.”

“No, no it’s fine…” Taylor trails off, blinking curiously through the screen. “I thought you said you were going home?”

Buck glances around the room behind him and frowns. “This is home?”

She rolls her eyes. “I know what your loft looks like.”

“Oh,” His smile returns. Of course, she’s only been to Eddie’s a few times, she doesn’t recognize it from the bit of it she could see through FaceTime. “I’m at Eddie’s.”

Taylor’s confusion morphs into exasperation. “I should’ve realized.”

“You’ve only been here a few times, it’s--”

“No, I mean I should’ve realized you were blowing me off for him,” she snaps.

It feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I’m always playing second to Eddie, and I’m getting sick of it,” Taylor’s tone is huffy and irritated and Buck hates it. “It was one thing when he was still recovering. But he’s fine now, so why are you still spending so much time with him?”

“He’s my best friend, Taylor,” Buck narrows his eyes. “Of course I spend time with him.”

She scowls. “How can you be too tired for me, but be sitting on his couch?”

Buck runs a hand through his ungelled curls. “Look, our shift ran long and it was really rough. My therapist says I shouldn’t be alone during times like this, and I happen agree with her--”

“So why not be with me?” Taylor asks, tone shifting from anger to sadness.

“Because Eddie knows exactly where I’m at emotionally,” Buck sighs. “He was there, he saw what I saw. There’s nothing to explain. And he shouldn’t be alone tonight, either. It just makes sense.”

She frowns. “So, that’s it? I’m not a first responder, so I’ll never be able to understand like Eddie?”

His stomach twists. This conversation is starting to sound familiar. “It’s not--”

“How can I understand if you don’t open up to me?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s right, of course. He isn’t open with her. She doesn’t know about his childhood, or about Daniel. She doesn’t know about the nightmares that haunt him, doesn’t know about the waves and ladder trucks, gunshots and explosions. She doesn’t know any of it, and he has no desire to share it with her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at her phone half the time they’re talking, or the fact that they haven’t really talked about her willingness to put Bobby’s trauma on the news, but he still doesn’t trust her, not really.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’ve been shutting you out.” She looks hopeful, which makes Buck feel like a huge jerk because this isn’t about to go in the direction she seems to think it will. “I have to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever feel like opening up to you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She looks so sad, and the part of Buck that’s terrified of disappointing people is two seconds from taking it all back, when she speaks again. “So, where does that leave us, then?”

“I don’t know,” Buck answers honestly. He doesn’t want to be single and lonely again, but he can’t deny any longer that Taylor isn’t right for him.

“I think you do.” She gives him a weak smile.

Buck blinks. Cocks his head to the side in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“Buck, be honest with me, are you in love with Eddie?”

Whatever Buck is expecting her to say, it isn’t that. All at once it feels like all the air in the room has been sucked out. He knows that he feels more for Eddie than could be strictly described as platonic, but he’s been avoiding those feelings for as long as he’s known Eddie. First because he thought he had Abby, then because Eddie was married, then because Eddie was grieving his wife, and then because they weren’t speaking to each other, and then because the pandemic hit and they had other things to focus on, and then because Eddie was dating Ana...It was never the right time, and he was always too afraid of losing Eddie, when he inevitably had to turn Buck down.

But Eddie changed his will, and Eddie broke up with Ana because “she’s not what I want” and Eddie let Buck stay here, for months, taking care of him and Christopher, and Buck knows in his core that he and Eddie are tied together, no matter what.

“Buck?”

He realizes she’s still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, yeah I think I am.”

She nods stiffly. “Right, well then. I guess we’re done here.”

“I guess we are.” Buck shifts uncomfortably. “Can we still be friends?”

“I don’t think so,” Taylor shakes her head.

Buck opens his mouth to respond, to say goodbye, but he’s cut off by a voice coming from the hallway. “You’re in love with me?” Buck looks up to see Eddie standing there in his sweats, hair still damp and dripping from the shower, brown eyes wide with shock.

Oh, fuck. “Taylor, I have to go.”

“I know,” she rolls her eyes. “Goodbye, Buck.”

“Bye, Taylor,” Buck swallows, setting his phone down on the coffee table. “How--How long have you been standing there? I didn’t hear the shower turn off.”

“Long enough,” Eddie steps forward. “You’re in love with me?”

“I--” There’s no point in denying. “Yeah. Is that...okay?”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all Buck can think to say.

To say Eddie looks dumbfounded would be an understatement. “Is it--What kind of question is that?”

Buck shrugs “Well, y’know. I thought it might make things awkward.”

Eddie shakes his head and shuffles the rest of the way into the living room, so he’s standing right above Buck. “Awkward? Why--What--Like, at work? We’re adults, we can keep things professional.”

“Keep...it...professional…” Buck’s brain processes the words slowly, but when he finally does, his heart sinks. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”

“Um.” Eddie cocks his head to the side, in almost the same movement Buck made just minutes earlier. “Obviously not.”

Buck feels numb. This is it. The end of everything. Just when he thinks he’s found someone who will stay. “W-What about Christopher?”

Again Eddie looks baffled. “What about Christopher? I think he’ll be happy we’re together.”

Time stops. Together? “Uh-Wh-Huh? Together? Like...together-together? Like dating? Each other?”

“Oh.” The confusion melts off Eddie’s face. “Buck. I’m in love with you, too.”

Buck blinks up at him. “You are?”

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles warmly. “I thought I made that clear when I broke up with Ana and kept asking you to stay, but I guess I should’ve known that I needed to be more explicit with you.”

Buck laughs. “Oh, you think? I’m only in therapy for my abandonment issues, it’s not like I have problems trusting that people want me around or something.”

Eddie leans down and takes Buck’s hands in his. “Evan Buckley, I am deeply in love with you, and I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

Buck grins, tightens his grip on Eddie’s hands, and pulls the other man down onto the couch, right into his lap. “How does forever sound?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Later, after they makeout on the couch like teenagers, after Eddie guides Buck down the hall to his bedroom, after they curl up in each other’s arms, it finally occurs to Eddie to ask. “How exactly did your FaceTime with Taylor end up with her asking if you were in love with me?”

Buck doesn’t open his eyes when he answers. “She asked why I wasn’t at home like I told her I’d be.”

“This is your home.”

Buck smiles and snuggles closer. “I know.”

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #my fan fiction

[porcelain-soupspoon4]

You’re Not So Bad (Isaac Foster x Reader)

A/N: I finished Angels of Death a few weeks back, and it was so good! I just had to write a short story about it. I’m not the best writer, but hopefully my first writing of this anime is somewhat close to Zack’s character.  

Warnings: Cussing, Blood Mention (it’s Zack)

You never expected to meet someone like Zack until he arrived on Floor B2. You assisted Reverend Gray, acting as another guardian of B2 after he took you in when he found you as a homeless teen, sleeping on the outside steps of his building. He wasn’t the best father figure you could’ve had, but he still treated you better than the streets did. When hearing the elevator on your floor ding, you wanted to see who was there, but Reverend Gray stopped you, warning you to be careful of the people you may meet. When you asked why, he described the people that held the names Isaac Foster and Rachel Gardner. In all honesty, you didn’t think they were actually as bad as he made them sound, considering that he over exaggerates his descriptions of people to you to keep you safe. Also considering the other psychotic people he had as guardians on the other floors, you could trust your own gut when you met the duo. You stayed hidden in the background while you watched Reverend Gray journey with Rachel to Dr. Danny’s floor. Watching them leave from the end of the hall, you saw a man in a dark brown hoodie and a scythe laying on the ground. That must be Isaac Foster. You could tell that he was bleeding out badly, a pang of guilt and empathy coursing through you. You were hesitant to approach him, remembering that the Reverend said he was dangerous to meddle with and there was a high chance he could react violently to you if you dared to try and talk. But seeing him looking on the verge of death, you couldn’t help but walk slowly toward him. It may seem unreasonable to walk right into danger, but you knew you could take care of yourself. Reverend Gray provided you with a weapon of your own, a basket-hilted sword. He helped you to perfect every swing and stab. Not only that, but you weren’t too bad at fighting hand-to-hand either. Luckily, Isaac Foster appears to be too injured to try and fight back anyway. I honestly don’t think my sword would be able to block his scythe well, I hope he doesn’t use it on me, you thought. As you got closer and closer to the strange man, he fidgeted a bit. You paused your movements, clutching the handle of your sword in its scabbard. He weakly turned his head towards you, his eyes opening slowly. 

“Who the fuck are you? You gonna try and kill me?” he questioned, a sharp tone in his voice. You noticed he made no effort to reach for his scythe, so you let go of your sword’s handle. 

“No.....I wouldn’t try to kill someone if they’re already dying,” you responded. He let out a dry laugh. 

“I hate to break it to ya sweetheart, but I’m not dying any time soon. Monsters are hard to kill. Besides, good ‘ol Rachel’s gonna fix me up. But enough of the chitter chatter, you didn’t answer my first question. Who the fuck ARE you? I thought there’s only one guardian on each floor, unless Reverend Shithead cheated,” he spat. You let out a small chuckle, finding his way of talking a throwback to when you were a teen. Although, he seemed to be around the same age as you, twenty or twenty-two years old. His bandaged face looked confused to your lighthearted reaction. He scowled, “Hey, what’s all that laughing for? I didn’t even say anything funny.” 

“Oh nothing, just thinking of my teenage days. But to answer your first question, I am another guardian of this floor. My job is assisting Reverend Gray on this floor, though I’m not really allowed to interact with the people who come here. But I uh, couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for you, seeing you bleed out like that,” you finally confessed. Letting out another dry laugh, he looked at you with a smirk. 

“Feeling bad for me, huh? Not the best decision. Don’t know if you can already tell, but I’m a cold-blooded serial killer. If I wasn’t feeling shitty at the moment, I’d cut that pretty head of yours off. Seeing you this calm around someone like me really pisses me off,” he said. You only let out another small chuckle, which irked him even more. 

“I’m sure you would, Isaac Foster. Although, I don’t think a fight between the two of us would end so quick. My weapon may be smaller than yours, but I can hold my own very well. If I could survive majority of my childhood and teen years being alone in the streets, I think I could survive you,” you calmly said. His temper apparently sky-rocketed because the next moment, he was yelling. 

“The name’s Zack, you bitch! Don’t go being so confident in yourself, it’s sickening to watch. I bet my ass could ruin all that confidence with just one land of my scythe. I’ll have you begging for your life, just you wait ‘til I’m in a better state to kill ya. Ugh, now I have two bitches to kill!” he groaned, then coughed loudly, more blood oozing out of his wound. You felt guilty again, wanting to at least stop the bleeding for a little while. 

“I carry some bandages and patches with me in case there’s a time I ever need to fix myself. If you need some I can-”

“Just leave it alone, will ya? I already got Rachel getting shit for me back on the other floor, I don’t need your damn help! Why the hell does everyone wanna help me?” 

“M’kay, but you’re bleeding pretty badly, by the time she comes back, you’ll most likely be passed out-”

“I said leave it alone! Stop tryna play nurse, your stuff probably won’t even do shit.” 

“But it’s better to stop the bleeding as soon as-”

“Will you shut up? You’re gonna make me go into shock.”

“I just wanna help-” 

“I said I don’t want any damn help!” 

“Well you won’t be much of a monster by bleeding out all over this damn floor! If you wanna at least live long enough to kill that girl Rachel, you could at least be somewhat decent and let me patch you up before you go all out, getting your own self killed instead! Now shut the fuck up and let me help! Geez! How does that blonde girl deal with you?” you shouted. Your yelling got him to close his mouth and shut up, surprised that he got someone as calm as you to get angry. How can I get her angry, but not scared shitless? It’s like she wasn’t even phased by my damn appearance, he thought. There was a short silence in the hallway, until Zack finally spoke up. “Didn’t know you had all that anger in ya. Heh, to be honest you even got my crazy self startled. I have no clue how Rachel deals with me, but all I know is her messed up head wants me to kill her. So I’ll do it. If I want to keep my promise to her.....I guess you should do what ya want. But don’t be a pervert about it.”

A small smile formed on your face as you took out your supplies in the small medical bag you carried around. 

“How the hell are you smiling after all that? Sheesh, I’m starting to think you’re even weirder than Rachel is,” Zack let out noises of disgust. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his childlike behavior. 

“Tell me something.....,” he began to say, “why haven’t ya mentioned anything about my appearance? I’m literally covered in bandages and burnt underneath. Don’t I freak you out at all? Why aren’t ya scared?” 

“Well, I’ve seen crazier. I also don’t like to make a judgement about someone based on only their appearance. Sure you’re not ordinary looking, but I know there’s more about you than what I see on the outside,” you replied. Everything that you needed to help him was taken out. You didn’t have any type of alcohol or a sewing needle and thread to fully cover what you believed to be a deep gash in his abdomen, but it was all that could be done for now until Rachel got back. You reached over towards his wound, but hesitated. You looked him in the eyes, as if you were silently asking for permission. He nodded slightly, his breathing hitching a bit when he saw the look your eyes held. You looked so genuine, not one hint of fear in you. Was that.....kindness? No, it couldn’t be. Why would anyone show kindness to him? You unzipped his hoodie, a faint blush on your face. Sure he was an asshole, but it still felt.....somewhat intimate? Not in an inappropriate way, just in a trustworthy way. The fact he had so much trust in one stranger to help him like this.....it was odd. You undid the bandages already on him that were worn out. His wound was revealed, and so was his skin. Wow....is all of him burned? You shook your thoughts away. You grabbed a bunch of gauze sponges you had and grouped them together, beginning to apply pressure to his wound. Zack hissed at the pain, saying almost every curse word you think is in the dictionary. You let out a soft “Sorry” as you continued to clean up the big amount of blood on his body. Once you began to bandage him up tightly, Zack started up another conversation. 

“You’re different from the other guardians.....why aren’t ya trying to kill me? Isn’t that what you guardians do?” he asked curiously. You showed him another small smile. That damn smile, why does she smile so easily at me? It’s not like Rachel’s forced ass smile. What’s up with this bitch? Why is her smile so.....familiar? 

“Well, like I said before, I just assist Reverend Gray on this floor. He’s the main guardian. I’m just someone he happened to take in after he found me sleeping on the steps of this building. Heh, teenager me. Homeless after my parents abandoned me as a toddler. I’m not sure what made Reverend Gray want to keep me. Sometimes he acts like a father, but then I remember how self praising he is,” you sighed, “I know the people on the other floors kill so you expect me to be the same, but I don’t want to kill someone if they aren’t totally out of their mind.” 

“So is that why you didn’t try to kill me? Cause ya think I’m not totally out of my mind? Heh, well I’m pretty sure me killing people for fun isn’t sane either. I hate seeing people happy, sooooo I kill ‘em. What’s not psycho about that?” Zack stated. 

“Well for starters, I didn’t try to kill you because you were already injured, so it wouldn’t have been fair. And you can’t be totally out of your mind if you let me help you with your injury.” Zack scowled at your reply, knowing you were right. Even as a serial killer, he had morals. He hated lying, and he himself would never tell a lie. 

“You remind me of him too much,” he grumbled. Your head perked up. 

“Did you say something?”

“I said you talk too much.” 

“No, you definitely said something else.” 

“No I said you talk too much.” 

“Doubt it, tell me what ya really said.” 

“That is what I really said.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Zack.” 

“Ugh, I said you remind me of him too much,” he said softly. 

“Him?” you questioned. Zack sighed. “There was this man I met when I was younger, a blind man. He let me stay at his place for a couple days. Even after I told him I killed a guy, he still had that dumb smile on his face. He always had that smile on his face around me. It was annoying, him being so calm around someone like me. Pissed me off, but I didn’t kill him. He fed me and everything. I mean he already died cause of something else, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Are ya done with my bandages yet? It feels like it’s been hours!” 

You rolled your eyes at his commentary. “Well, whoever that man is, he had quite the patience with you.” 

“Hey! I was giving you a compliment! Geez, way to be rude!” Zack crossed his arms, turning away from you. You only chuckled once more. You finally finished wrapping enough bandages as you could, making sure it was snug enough. 

“Happy now, angry boy? I’m done. They’ll still get bloody, but at least the bandages are fresh and not worn out,” you said, giving him another smile just to annoy him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “I never caught your name. Since I told ya mine, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” 

“It’s (Y/N),” you said. 

“Well (Y/N),” Zack rubbed the back of his head. “You’re not so bad.....maybe I’ll keep ya alive.” 

#angels of death #angels of death zack #isaac foster #zack foster #isaac foster x reader #isaac x reader #zack x reader #angels of death x reader #zack foster x reader #angels of death imagines #isaac foster imagines #isaac foster fluff #anime #isaac foster fanfic #angels of death fanfic #aod #aod x reader #satsuriku no tenshi

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 15: Same Old Story

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Summary: Some history for Y/N and some brotherly love from Cole.

A/N: when you so busy writing smut that you forget to update the story so you can get to the smut lmao. enjoy, fellow nerds.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

You were uncomfortable talking about personal things, particularly your history, but Cole deserved answers and he was a patient listener. Being a father, you weren’t really surprised by that. “When I was a kid, like… nine I want to say? Honestly my childhood is pretty blurry. Feels like another life.” You cleared your throat. “Anyway, yeah, around then I fell ill. I had these… fits, for lack of a better word. I didn’t understand what they meant at the time because I was well, nine. No one else understood them either. As an adult I know that I was experiencing prophetic visions. Honestly, they weren’t really prophetic then, I guess. That’s a word Raiden uses a lot for them. Back then they were rarely of future events. It was more like gaining deep insight into the lives of others. I could touch someone or something that someone else had touched and I would disappear. I’d see a glimpse of their history or their present. I was too young to interpret it.”

“Like touch telepathy? I’ve seen television shows about that concept. This stuff is hard for me to wrap my mind around. Too much like fiction.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing to call it. When I saw things, I would also black out. And have a fit. Like a seizure, I suppose. And when that was happening, I would often say things about what I was seeing or hurt myself. It frightened people. My parents took me out of town and I stayed with my grandmother. I was homeschooled after that. My parents saw it as an embarrassment if I recall.” You laughed at the idea of that now. That life was so far behind you that it didn’t matter how stressful it had been. Back then it had felt like the end of the world but as an adult, it was a distant memory. Those experiences had made you different and strange but they had also made you unique and special. You had embraced the things that had separated you from normality since then.

“Well, that’s awful.”

“Oh, no, no pity. It’s fine, really. That was world’s ago.” You waved off his disapproval of a parent being embarrassed by their child for things they couldn’t control. Cole really was a good guy. “I stopped having the visions at around twelve and while I was weak from being so sick, I fought to be normal afterward. My dad ran a dojo and so I grew strong again. I focused on martial arts. It was something that helped me find strength and determination back then.” You smiled at the memory. You’d always had a fondness for it in your heart. That was one of the first things you and Kung Lao had bonded over. Your father had taught Wing Chun and that was what Kung Lao specialized in. “With time my father could no longer teach at the dojo so he moved in with my older sister. I took over the dojo and then opened a shop in the old storage space to make extra money. I had every intention of moving away. I would never be more than a weirdo or a witch there. It was too small a town.”

“Did you ever get to?”

“I mean, I’m here now. That’s a long story though. I’m trying to keep this brief.” You chuckled. “We can talk about that stuff another day.” That was a more casual and personal conversation. This was personal but definitely not casual. If you didn’t have to share these parts of your life then you never would have. Much of it was still too raw. But Cole Young was curious about your past and you were curious about his. It was nice having another friend who wasn’t Liu Kang. You really did get along with him and his family.

“Fair enough.”

“About five years ago I was still doing the same. There had been a robbery across the street and the thugs came into my shop afterward. And, well, I’m not the type to roll over and be robbed.”

“I’d say not.”

“It escalated. There was a man who came in to pick up herbs I had imported for him every month who came in after. He ended up helping me out. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, I killed one of those would-be robbers. He’d been trying to kill me so… I have come to terms with that. That’s how I got the dragon mark.” You pointed to your back. Yours was on your lower back on your left side. “The man who helped me was Liu Kang. I knew him then and he was kind enough to help me deal with the fallout at the time. It took ages for him to convince me to that there was any truth to any of this… Mortal Kombat and arcana nonsense. It’s kind of embarrassing looking back at it.” And the story was far more complicated too. You’d been attracted to Liu Kang from very early on. “I guess that’s why I’m so patient with Johnny. It’s easy for us to know what’s the truth but when you spend your whole life believing that fairytales are made with computers and science? It’s difficult to believe anything else.”

“Yeah, I get that. Not everyone had Sub Zero rushing them into the truth.” He joked. That was true enough. But Johnny Cage had had his come-to-jesus moment that afternoon you were pretty sure. You hadn’t had a moment like that in the beginning. Just Liu Kang’s word and his arcana.

“Liu showed me his arcana but I thought it was a trick. He was very persistent at the time. Tried to talk me into leaving everything I had ever known for what I thought was a trick. I was scared, I’m not too proud to admit that. The part of me that wanted to leave home and never look back had grown smaller over the years. I’d become complacent. I’d grown comfortable being known as a witch and honestly, the next generation of people in town hadn’t treated me so terribly. The kids even thought it was funny that everyone thought I was a witch. But then… I found my arcana.”

“The ink?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty and under control now but in the beginning, it was a nightmare. The first time I used it had been on accident. I nearly destroyed my store. Then I fell and had a fit and I was suddenly seeing things again. Those things I saw didn’t make any sense. None of it. I saw flashes of people and places I didn’t recognize. The best way that I can describe it is… nonsense. It didn’t mean anything.” You sighed heavily. Those moments had been terrifying. “The second time had been even worse. If Liu hadn’t been basically stalking me then someone would have gotten seriously hurt. I’d hurt him but he’d been tough enough to handle it. I felt terrible about it. By then I’d more than grown fond of him.” You didn’t want to get into the details but it hadn’t exactly been difficult to fall into Liu Kang’s arms and it hadn’t taken very long either.

“There’s a lot of history there, huh?”

“Yes. Focus.” You wanted to get this story over as quickly as you could. “After that I decided to go with him. It wasn’t worth the risk of hurting people in town with something I didn’t understand. I didn’t want to leave but I was glad that I did afterward. Raiden’s Temple was where I had needed to be for what came next. It was awful at first. The ink and the visions made me sick. I had little to no control over any of it. Raiden helped me. He could unravel what I saw even if it was just spaghetti to me. My visions helped him. At least he said that they did. Liu helped me get control over my arcana. There I met Kung Lao and I was happy. About a year later the visions stopped altogether and I was stronger than I’d ever been.”

“And now you’re having them again? Out of nowhere?” Cole didn’t sound terribly concerned. He had handled all of this very well. It was nice not to be taken too seriously or looked at like you were about to fracture. You didn’t think the visions were out of nowhere. In fact, you thought that the visions were likely triggered by Kung Lao’s death. Trauma did funny things to people. The things that happened to you were a little funnier than most.

“I confess that I didn’t realize I was having them at first.” You shrugged. It was difficult to explain but it seemed as though, at some point, Cole had abandoned his disbelief and had embraced chaos. “They were more like nightmares. It was difficult to decipher what was guilt and grief and what wasn’t. It wasn’t until the other night on the roof that I even considered they were visions. Well, that and I feel terrible. I haven’t felt this terrible since the last time I had them.” You were a little embarrassed to admit that. If you’d been honest about what you were feeling from the beginning then maybe you could have done things differently. You just hated being weak. It was a hot button for you.

“And that was when you saw what happened this afternoon?”

“Kind of? I saw the beach and a wave of corpses coming for us. Does that count?” You tried to joke. Cole tilted his head as if to consider if it counted or not.

“It does at least explain why you were extra creepy this morning.”

“Implying that I’m always a little creepy.”

“The ink is a little creepy, I decided.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“But you’re okay? This morning was wild.”

Did you not seem okay? You supposed that you were feeling out of it after seeing Kung Lao’s death. You definitely weren’t feeling yourself but you thought that you’d hidden it pretty well. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sound a little morose.” Cole looked to the door like he had somewhere else to be. He probably did. He had a family and all that. “I can’t say we know each other very well but whatever happened back there must have hit hard… and I mean… you were so different at the end of it.”

“I’m fine, Cole.” You reassured him with a forced smile. You were a little morose. That was a good word for what you were feeling. You wanted to sleep for the rest of the week until you had to go back to China.

“Ally, Emily, and I are going to go grab dinner. You’re welcome to join us. You could probably use some food.”

“No, no. Thank you but I think that I have encroached upon your family time enough this week.”

“We really don’t mind. You’re good company. Allison asked if you were joining us, even.”

“Really, Cole. I appreciate the offer but I’m not up to it. My social battery is completely drained.” You offered a weary smile. It was nice to be wanted. “I’m going to rest.”

“You’re just… so off. I feel bad leaving you alone.” Cole pulled his phone from his coat pocket. “I’m considering asking if Ally wants to grab food and then bring Emily here to watch a movie with you.”

“It’s okay, Cole. I need the time alone, I think. Besides, I’m allowed to be a little under the weather after that.” You smiled even so. You didn’t want him to pity you. You didn’t need that. You really would be okay. That morning had been difficult but you weren’t prepared to say the real reasons why. You were a mixture of angry and hurt but you’d trudge through it.

“Yeah…”

“Hey, look, you don’t need to feel responsible for me just because of what happened with Kung Lao.” You would happily absolve him of any guilt he felt in that regards. He was guilty of nothing but being a good man.

“What?” Cole was genuinely surprised and you internally winced at how you’d miscalculated. You’d read the whole situation wrong and instantly regretted your words.

“I thought you might be feeling some misplaced guilt about it. I don’t want that for you.”

“Oh. Maybe that was why I approached you on the street that day but I think we’re past that. We’re friends now. Am I wrong about that?”

“Not at all. It’s been lovely getting to know you and your family. I really mean that, I’m not just saying it. You’ve managed to get me a little out of my head which is nice. And you like my jokes which I appreciate. I’m sorry about the way that came off. I wasn’t trying to diminish our friendship. I just didn’t want you to carry around that guilt, either.”

“That goes for you too.”

“It’s been a hard day. I’m not coming across the way that I mean to. Let’s say lost in translation.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Your English is pretty good so I’m not sure that excuse works, but I’ll let it slide.”

“I know, I know… I’m being cold without meaning to. Like you said, I’m a little morose right now. I do this thing when my feelings are difficult to process where I kind of shut off and… I can come off as cruel without meaning to. Honestly, even in Chinese it doesn’t sound much better.” You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. Today was a reality check. It scared me too. And you’re clearly going through something. I wanted to help, is all. Sometimes when I get too far into my head things snowball and become an avalanche.”

“I appreciate that.” You kicked your shoes off next to the bed and laughed. You had no plans of going anywhere else for the rest of the day. “I used to have Kung Lao to keep that from happening. I appreciate you trying to help but you can go get food with your family and enjoy your afternoon. I’m exhausted. I’ll probably nap or meditate on what happened today.” What you really meant was that you would do whatever it took to get it out of your head. You were going to try and forget the awful things you’d seen today. You weren’t sure you could forget it. His death was burned into your mind’s eye. It would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“I will but before I go, I wanted to talk to you quickly about Liu.”

“I would very much prefer if you didn’t.” You scrunched up your face in distaste.

“I know that I’ve been teasing you about it.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes. “But is everything okay with that? I know, I know… it’s not my business, you’ve said it a dozen times now. It’s clearly complicated. You don’t owe me any details but if you need help with it then say the word. I’m happy to help.” Was Cole Young offering to be your wingman? Or was he offering to beat up Liu Kang? Either scenario was kind of hilarious.

“I’m obviously defensive about it. I’m sure that it’s hilarious from the outside looking in but Liu and I have more history than I care to explain. I’m not ready to get into it with anyone. Not you and definitely not with Liu, either.”

“But that’s okay?”

“Yeah, it will be. I’m a pretty tough lady.”

“On a scale of one to ten just how supportive do you need me to be?”

“No scale. Just be yourself, Cole. You’re doing fine.”

“Even teasing you?”

“I’ve had worse teasing, trust me. I dated Kung Lao for years. Besides, it kind of lessens the frustration of it. Sometimes I get too serious and scary in my head. The joking grounds me a little.”

“Good to know.” Cole patted you on the back. It was nice having a friend to talk to. A friend that wasn’t Liu Kang. Not that you didn’t enjoy Liu Kang, things were just too complex between you right now. There was so much hurt and grief that you weren’t sure how things would pan out or if they would ever be fixable. And Cole was a good man. You enjoyed talking to Allison too and Emily had taken a shine to you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to be around kids in years and you were good with them at most ages. That was part of why you’d enjoyed running the dojo.

There was a knock at your door. You made to get up to answer it.

“I’ll get it. I’m on my way out anyway.” Cole stood and so you sat back down. You wouldn’t argue with him. Cole opened the door and there was Liu Kang, which was no surprise to you. You’d been expecting him to show up at some point. Who else would it have been, anyway? You were pretty sure that you’d rubbed Sonya and Jax the wrong way with all your talk of kidnapping. Cole stared Liu Kang down instead of greeting him and you tried not to laugh.

“Hello Cole.” Liu bowed his head politely in greeting. “I was hoping that I could speak with Y/N for a few minutes. Is she here? Did I come to the wrong room?” Liu peered around him and made eye contact with you. You offered him a curt wave.

“That’s up to her.”

You tried very hard not to laugh at the look of confusion on Liu’s face. He was bewildered.

“Of course it is.”

“You can come in, Liu.” You stopped that conversation before it got any weirder. Cole meant well, but wow.

“I was just leaving.” Cole clasped Liu on the shoulder as if to wish him good luck and then left, closing the door behind him after Liu had stepped past him. Liu watched the door close and then turned back to you. His expression was priceless. You’d have to thank Cole for that later.

Next Chapter >>

#liu kang x reader #self insert #reader insert #liu kang #mk liu kang #slow burn #mortal kombat movie #mortal kombat 2021 #ludi lin #liu kang/reader #liu kang x you #liu kang/you #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #romance #death #tension #grief #beauty through ash #arcana #female reader #mortal kombat fanfiction #mk fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfic #mk kung lao #max huang #johnny cage #cole young #sonya blade

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

I can see us Lost in the Memory

Summary: Caring is not an advantage. To Mycroft, this was a belief he found through the calculated logic that ruled his life. If was analytical and detached and certainly had nothing to do with Sherlock or the childhood neighbor.

Love You to the Moon and to Saturn

A/N: In a break from my regularly scheduled SVU writing, here’s a four part Folklore inspired Mycroft Holmes thing.

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

When the Holmes parents invited Ruth on their vacation to start the summer, she couldn’t resist the chance. Her mom would be busy, and the family would be staying on a beach in a little house for a week. You’re just so good with both my boys Mrs. Holmes had said with a soft smile as she pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Since Christmas, she’d had late night phone calls with Mycroft regularly, sneaking the handset for the phone to her room and staying up to happily listen to the minutiae of his day and tell him about her own. To help calm his worries, she took to dropping by to visit Sherlock. But this trip in May would be their first time together save a stolen weekend after midterms where she’d made it to Oxford.

When she arrived at their usual home, not the country house she was so used to, Sherlock darted out, wrapping around her as she laughed. He was almost not a little boy anymore, though she was certain he’d find something broken that they’d try to rebuild together.  She could see Mycroft’s frame in the doorway, and her breath caught. He’d only gotten stuffier since going to Oxford, always in a suit. It worked for him or she’d have teased him mercilessly for it. There was also the fact that she was simply overjoyed to see him. 

“Missed you,” she said softly, looking up at him as Sherlock watched them suspiciously before going back into the house.

“And I missed you, Ruth.”

“Mummy, I think Mycroft and Ruth are going to start snogging.” The youngest Holmes ran to the kitchen, and Ruth flushed a deep pink and giggled as the very tips of Mycroft’s ears changed color.

“Do you care if she knows?” Ruth asked, and Mycroft was acutely aware of the power he had to hurt Ruth in that moment. He would never dream of it, but this would potentially be over in three years, at which point hurting her would be inevitable. But still he held out hope he could balance both.

“Not at all,” he said softly, the same dignified air he always carried. But instead of staying away as he led her in, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before placing a hand on the small of her back and leading her into the house. His mother and father had the kindness to leave them be, and the drive went smoothly. When Sherlock became antsy, Ruth watched as Mycroft told him about people he’d encountered at university, problems in the dorms. It was a game the pair had always played when Sherlock had to be kept still too long. The younger Holmes would tell Mycroft how obvious it was his roommate's girlfriend had been eating all the food from the common area, and Mycroft would pretend he hadn’t figured it out with the same reasoning.

“Ruth, come here,” Mrs. Holmes had said, calling her to the kitchen as she left the boys to unload bags from the car. “Are you dating my son?”

“I love him very much.”

“The boys are in the last room on the left. You’ll be the first on the right. Behave yourselves, allright?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The evening found them watching Sherlock as Mr. and Mrs. Holmes went to dinner, and since Christmas, he’d discovered documentaries again, sprawling on the couch to watch one on pirates. It was good to see some things didn’t change. What had changed was that Mycroft was willing to give him a little more space. They cooked dinner together, and Ruth was rewarded with soft brushes of his hand over her back as he passed. She suspected he’d always be himself, not one for casual affection when someone could see. But when his brother was tucked into bed, there were soft kisses that grew more desperate and whispered confirmation they were both sure. She stole the Oxford sweatshirt from his bag after, determined not to let his mother find them anything but decent but wanting to keep everything on her as some extension of him.

“I don’t know why they got you a sweatshirt anyway,” she teased lightly, watching him smoke in the dark. “I’ve never seen you in a shirt without a collar.”

“I suppose mummy thought I might wear it to sleep. I don’t think she expected it to be worn by someone else during a post-coital cigarette.” He wore cotton pajama pants and a plain t-shirt, though she expected he had sets with collared shirts for when he was at school. The wind blew in from the water, and she wished she’d grabbed pants instead of letting the crewneck serve as a dress. He noticed her shiver, holding out an arm as he exhaled smoke. She pressed against his side and his arm wrapped around her. 

“Just someone?” she teased. “You know, I think I might be your girlfriend.”

“How is that any different than we’ve always been?”

“It means we build a future together. Don’t date other people. Communicate regularly.”

“I suppose you are my girlfriend,” he said, though she could tell he didn’t particularly care for the word. 

“So you think about a future with me?”

“Constantly,” he admitted, choosing to omit how much of that was grappling with the danger Rudy’s position could put her in when he took over. That he’d have to eventually tell her about Eurus. But he was young and selfish and certain he could separate it.

Your back beneath the sun Wishin' I could write my name on it Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinkin' I had you

Ruth had never been able to get Mycroft to the beach in anything but a polo shirt, but it seemed the way the last of his baby fat had melted off at university meant he was willing to join his brother and Ruth in the water. He still wore a polo shirt and boat shoes with his swim shorts, but he slipped both off and followed when Sherlock beckoned he and Ruth to join him in finding the sandbar. He almost said no until he saw how giddy Ruth looked as she peeled the other unworn bit of Oxford merchandise he’d acquired: a t-shirt that would have fit had he not lost weight. He liked seeing it on Ruth; it made him realize he was getting territorial.

“C’mon,” Sherlock called to them from the water’s edge. 

“We’re coming, Sherlock,” Mycroft scolded gently. “You must wait so we can be sure the tide doesn’t whisk you away.”

“Don’t scare him,” Ruth said, swatting his arm before she hurried and ruffled his brother’s hair. “We’ll find the sandbar, but then Mycroft and I are going to come back to land. I think you ought to see how big of a sandcastle you can make. Maybe even big enough you can hide in it.”

“Do you think there are artifacts in the sand, Ruth?”

“Probably not ones we’ll want to keep. But maybe bottles or keys.” The tide was low enough when they waded to the sandbar that Ruth and Mycroft could sit on it and watch as Sherlock ran along. He could dig as well, finding shells and loading them into the pockets of his swim shorts.

“Why must we be in this wet sand instead of on the towels on land?” Mycroft huffed, and Ruth poked his side.

“Your brother missed you. He likes you being close, even if you aren’t a part of his excavation. He’ll want to build soon, and since shells aren’t restorable like a trowel, he’ll go back to land for a sandcastle.”

“He only yells when I call him.”

“And what does he yell about?” Ruth had heard Sherlock during one of these calls. One of the calls where Sherlock yelled at Mycroft for leaving. But this would pass. She always promised Mycroft that it would pass, and Sherlock would understand his big brother would always come home. 

“Don’t look so proud,” Mycroft huffed.

“It’s not often I’m the one who’s right.”

“You’re often right when it comes to feelings.”

“I love you. My big brained robot.”

“I love you, my darling.”

“That sounds way more romantic than big brained robot. But god, I like hearing you say it. I know it isn’t easy for you.”

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” He had a glint in his eye as he looked down at her, and she smiled broadly up at him, delight apparent.

“You read Jane Austen?”

“Everyone does.”

“You only store things you want, Mycroft.”

“When I read it, I thought of you. I was fifteen. I was a fool and didn’t process what that meant for another year. But whenever I read a poem or a novel and they talk about ardent love, your face is my first thought. I wish I were someone who spoke so eloquently of his own feelings. But I do not understand why I love you. It honestly perplexes me. You are wild and hard headed and love the most mindless things. But I would gladly listen to you describe popular music or the intricacies of a flower crown for hours because of the way your smile and laugh sound more melodic than any symphony. What is unbearable in others only serves to make affection blossom when it is in you. Perhaps it’s because I feel I understand you like I can’t understand most, and I feel that you see me not just as some big brained robot but as who I am. And I am grateful for that, even if it perplexes me to no end.”

 “God, you really can be sappy,” she said, tearing up as she wrapped around his middle. Without his parents or peers there, he was more comfortable to stay sitting as perfectly upright as ever, but slip an arm around Ruth and press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “You’ll keep calling when you go back to school, right?”

“I will. And we’ll figure how to see each other. I know it hasn’t been easy. Uncle Rudy has so much for me to do on top of my course work.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Mycroft. It’s four to six years we have to get through. We can do that.”

“Have you thought about university?”

“Cambridge or Oxford. The latter, while a delightful institution, is due to a bias for a certain student.”

“What do you want to study?”

“I think I’d be a good teacher. Kids Sherlock’s age.”

“You’ve always done well keeping him engaged. That’s a feat in and of itself. But, I always expected that you’d pursue English. Write.”

“I need a job.”

“Writing is a job. You could work in editing too. But, you write so beautifully. And it makes you so happy. I’m certain you would flourish. It may be harder, but you’re intelligent enough to parallel plan and work until you’re published.”

“You really think so?”

“I know. And I’m always right.”

“Cambridge is about as far as London from you. Or maybe I’ll go to Oxford.”

“I just want you to select the institution you wish to learn from. I’m sure we can find a halfway point. If not, we can alternate visiting each other.”

“You wouldn’t feel weird if I showed up in your daily life?”

“You’re a part of my daily life. It would be a perpetual summer. Who wouldn’t wish for that?”

“We’ve just only ever had the summer.”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there? I suspect you’ll tire of me when you realize I’m relaxed in the summers.”

“I imagine you wear suits everyday. And your socks, tie, and pocket square all match.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I don’t wear a tie every day.”

“Oh, there are pictures of  Mycroft in a suit with no tie. Is the top button undone? This is simply scandalous.”

She stretched herself up to kiss him, no hesitation now and fingers brushing through auburn hair. Only the screeched order to Stop being so gross from Sherlock convinced them to pull apart, and Ruth was quite sure he was grinning down at her.

Back when we were still changin' for the better Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all

“Are we going to have to chase the two of you from each other's rooms all summer?”

“Mummy, she is my girlfriend. Is it the worst thing if I sleep beside her?”

“You’ll do more than sleep.”

“Yes, Violet, because a bed is the only place teenagers will shag. Never a field or a car or the storeroom at their job. They’re good kids. Leave them be.”

“Siger, this is the third time in a week! Do you want to deal with her mother when we return? She’ll be chasing our boy from her house night after night.”

“Since when does Ruth sleep in her own home? She’s in our guest room most nights. We can feign propriety if it is of such importance and say ‘Oh! I didn’t know he’d snuck into her room’ if for whatever reason Debora learns.”

Ruth was by Mycroft’s side, cheeks pink as she watched his parents. They’d tried to be careful, but she never woke up in time to hurry to her own room. She wanted to tell them her own mother wouldn’t notice anyway, so she should be able to climb into bed with Mycroft. They were talking about flats at Oxford, little ones they would stuff full of books and she’d ensure were always stocked with flowers. She’d made up her mind she’d go there. Mycroft was ready to tell Rudy he was in love, and it didn’t matter what the job entailed; Mycroft could balance it if it meant he’d have Ruth. For once, he was hopeful.

“Both of you, listen to me,” he said firmly, arm around Ruth. “Where do you think she stayed when she visited me at Oxford? This began at Christmas, so I hardly believe it to be a phase. I love her, and upon her graduation, we intend to get a flat near the university. Accept it now, or accept it later. It does not matter to me. This is the reality.”

“You’re following him to Oxford?” Violet seemed to be appraising her now. 

“Yes.”

“You really do love him?”

“Yes.”

“Just don’t make me a grandmother any time soon,” she said finally, obviously acquiescing as her husband followed her to the kitchen again with quiet assurances they’d be fine. Ruth’s cheeks were pink, but she wrapped around Mycroft and kissed him.

“What is that for?”

“You professed your love for me to your parents? You finally put your foot down over something and it's me?”

“I wish to maximize every moment I have you by my side between now and August.”

“I’ll miss you so much.”

“We’ll sort it out. Two terms. Then you’ll follow me to Oxford.” 

“Ruth will leave too?” The soft voice of Sherlock came from the hall, and she pulled away from Mycroft to kneel by him. 

“It’ll be just like the end of summer,” she promised. “It was harder with your brother because he lives with you. But, you usually only see me in the summer, and I’ll still be here for every summer. Who else will help me excavate the garden?”

“Why does everyone go to Oxford?”

“They don’t. But lots of people go to uni, and you will too one day. You’ll get a degree to be a detective or an archaeologist or marine biologist.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“It’s a whole year away. You’ll be a teenager.”

“I guess that’s an okay time for you to go to Oxford.” He bent to look around her to his brother. “You could do well to learn from her, Mycroft.”

“You need to stop being so rude. He’s getting a degree so he can afford to keep you out of trouble forever and ever, kiddo.”

“I’m never in trouble.” 

“Mhm. Never, ever have I scooped you up before mummy could catch you performing experiments.”

“Shh!”

Ruth simply laughed, moving to stand again, Sherlock’s gaze again fluctuating between bored and curious about the world around him as she moved to sit in the arm chair beside the one Mycroft had settled into with his book. She opened her own, feet tucked under her, reaching towards him and resting her hand on the small table between them. He looked at it before resting his hand in hers.

“I like this,” she said softly. He made a noise of agreement, legs crossed. “I could get used to it.”

“We’ve a whole summer ahead, dear.”

That night found them tangled in bedsheets, not bothering to pretend he was going to be sleeping in the room with Sherlock. He rather liked sleeping by her, and he was grateful she was so content to lay against his side, close enough it was intimate and safe, but not requiring their bodies to be tangled. But she did like to play with his hands, especially in the afterglow. She would trace the lines of his palms or the veins on the back of his hand, watching her own actions in the moonlight. He stopped her tonight, letting his fingers slip between hers. She smile down at him, her hair a curtain as she leaned to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Get some sleep, Ruth.”

“Does anyone ever take care of you, Mycroft?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“Everyone does. And I’m going to from here on out, okay?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.”

“How often do you sit in the sun and read for pleasure at Oxford?”

“There isn’t time.”

“I’ll make sure there is when I’m there. You need to give yourself breaks.” He didn’t agree, but instead of arguing, he pulled her to his side, deciding he could tangle himself with her awhile, savoring the closeness. 

“You are too gentle for this world, darling. Please never change.”

#Mycroft Holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes x oc #mycroft x reader #mycroft x oc #mycroft holmes x original character #mycroft x original character

[sillyrabbit81]

The Pull

Summary: Alternative Universe. Vampire Henry. Henry, Crown Prince of the Vampires is avoiding his responsibilities because of his mother's fate. When Henry finds his mate, the circumstances are eerily similar to his mother's. Rather than risking his mate's life, Henry chooses to run, but can he run from his fate?

Pairing: Henry x OFC

Word Count: approx 2.4k

Warnings: mention of death, mention of abortion (although it didn't happen), and swearing

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Chapter Two

Rowena POV

"David, I can't wear this!" I complained on the phone. I held up the dress again. "It's just too much, too revealing."

It was a simple white silk floor-length skirt, but the top of the dress was two long vertical pieces of silk, barely wide enough to cover my breasts, which crossed at the back before wrapping around my waist and tied in a bow on my lower back. There was no way I could wear a bra. It would only take a slight wrong move, and there would be an embarrassing nipple slip.

"Yes, you can," my brother said. "Lawrence had it made for you to wear as a gift. He wants to meet you and make a good impression." Lawrence was David's partner, they had been together for over a year, but I was yet to met him. Lawrence and David seemed to travel together an awful lot, so it had been challenging to find time for us to get together.

"Have you seen it?" I asked.

"Of course," David replied. I was surprised. David was my older brother and had always been a little protective of me, especially since our parents died when I was 15 and he was 20. Maybe he had finally let that go considering I was now 26.

"You know I'd never wear something like that. It's gorgeous, but it's too revealing for me."

"Rowena, it's Halloween. It's an excuse for excess." I rolled my eyes. For David, being a day that ended in 'y' was an excuse for excess.

"Why does your boyfriend want to see me in this?" It just seemed over the top for a party. I gathered that Lawrence was wealthy, but still, it's just a Halloween party.

"Because he wants you to fit in. Honestly, you'll stick out less wearing that than anything else. Besides, no one knows you there, and you'll have a mask. Just pretend you're someone else."

I grumbled. "What time did Lawrence say the stylist was coming?"

Although I couldn't see him, I could hear David's victorious smile through the phone. "At six pm. The driver will be there at eight."

"That seems late, David," I said. "I won't arrive until nearly nine."

"I know, but that is Lawrence's style."

"Promise you won't leave me alone." I wasn't afraid of being alone at parties usually but by the sounds of this one, the dress and the fact that I was having my hair and makeup done professionally made it feel like a big deal.

"Lawrence and I will take good care of you," David promised.

I said my goodbyes and hung up the phone.

Feeling only a little more confident after the phone call, I jumped in the shower, washed my hair, and shaved my legs for the first time in weeks. I put on a robe and slippers and went up to the main house to see Charlie since I had half an hour to kill before the stylist arrived.

Charlie was staying there tonight with Alice while I went out. He had his own room and often slept there now that he was getting older and wanted space from me. Charlie and I mostly ate our meals up at the house and just kept basics in our two-bedroom flat above the old stables.

Charlie and Alice were sitting together at the dining table, playing with a random assortment of lego pieces. "Hey, Mum. I made this for you." Charlie handed me a flower made from the blocks. He was such a sweetheart of a boy.

"Awww, thanks, Babybear. I love it." I kissed the top of his head and sat with them.

"I thought you had to get ready for tonight," Alice asked.

"I have an hour," I replied.

"You're still going, aren't you?" Alice asked. She seemed more eager for me to go than I was. Alice was Charlie's paternal grandmother. Charlie's dad, Alex, had been my boyfriend when I was 17. Despite being on the pill, I fell pregnant, and Alex tried to pressure me into an abortion and refused to be a part of his life. Alice had been horrified by the way Alex had treated me. In an unexpected turn of events, she had stepped in to help raise Charlie. Charlie rarely saw Alex, but Alice saw that we both wanted nothing. The woman was a saint.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly.

"It'll be good for you," Alice said, squeezing my hand.

"I know." I sighed.

"Charlie, go get Nanny a glass of water, please. My throat is feeling dry," Alice said. She had something to say to me outside of Charlie's ears. Being a kind and helpful kid, Charlie immediately got up and went to get her one. He made me so proud.

As soon as he left the room, Alice said, "Rowena, don't feel guilty getting out there again."

"How can you say that?" I asked. I had tried dating a few times over the years. It always ended disastrously. Always my fault too. I had developed severe commitment issues.

"Charlie is my grandson, and I want his mother to be happy. Not lonely and depressed. It would be best if you had a life beyond Charlie. I've been telling you that for years."

Charlie came back with a book, and Alice read to him. As mothers often are, I was struck by how handsome my little boy was. His blonde sun-bleached hair and deep brown eyes were framed by a face that had lost nearly all of its childhood fat. At nine years old, he was almost as tall as me already, and he would probably take after his father in that regard. In fact, his eyes were the only thing that came from my side of the family as they were the same colour as David's and my Dad's. Charlie looked so much like his father, sometimes it hurts to look at him.

Kissing him again, on the cheek this time, I said goodbye to Charlie, told him to be a good boy for Nanny and went back to our flat above the garage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I arrived at Lawrence's house not long after the sun had set. House was probably too humble a word to describe it. It was a borderline castle. I had thought Alice's family was wealthy, but this was another level. It was like something out of the Great Gatsby.

The car drove around the circular driveway and pulled up near the front door. A valet opened the car door, and he escorted me into the house, where he told my name to a butler who asked me to follow him.

Looking around the room, I was grateful to David for insisting I wear the dress. Everybody was dressed like it was a Hollywood awards show, and I mean everybody. Not to mention they all looked like actors or models. I had never in my life been around so many beautiful people. And I don't mean just beautiful because they were thin. There were people of all shapes and sizes, but everyone moved with grace and ethereal ease. They seemed so other.

This was crazy. Who the hell was my brother mixed up with? This whole night must have cost a fortune. Beyond a fortune! All for a Halloween party?

I was led from room to room, the house full of beautiful creatures. More than that, the house was decorated in a way that would put Versailles to shame. The decadence of the furnishings was lush and rich. Every piece seemed to be a precious antique but shone like it was brand new. Gold leaf decorated the cornices, and priceless framed artworks, tapestries and mirrors filled every wall. Even the wooden floor was an intricate parquetry design that appears to have taken years to lay.

At first, I thought I imagined it, but I noticed that everybody stared at me as I moved through each room. I felt heat rush to my cheeks. Did I look so different from everyone else? I supposed I did, but the eyes following me made me thankful for the mask.

After what seemed like hours but couldn't have been, I was taken to a large hall and presented. Yes, presented. What the fuck?

My escort stopped outside the room and spoke to a man standing just inside the door. The man rapped his cane on the floor three times and thundered, "Rowena, sister of David, Inamorato of Duke Lawrence." An eerie silence fell as every face turned to me. Some even bowed their heads. What on earth was going on?

"Rowena!" David was at my side, clutching my hands to his chest. "I've missed you so." He leaned over and kissed both my cheeks. Everybody in the room seemed to return to normal, and sounds of chatter resumed. David was wearing a mask and wore an elegant dark grey suit. He looked so different. David has always been handsome, but he looked so unlike his usual self, and I couldn't pinpoint the difference. I didn't even have the words to describe the change. I know it had been months since we had seen each other, but it wasn't that he had lost weight or gained muscle. What I could see of his face was inconsistent with my memories of him. Then I saw his eyes.

"David, what the..." David cut me off and embraced me. His smell was mouth-watering, and I wondered what cologne he was wearing. He had never smelt like that before.

"Come, meet Lawrence!" David exclaimed, gripping my hand tightly. Maybe he had put on muscle because he was stronger than I remembered.

David lead me further into the room. I followed, but my head was spinning. Why did everything look so beautiful but feel so... unreal?

"Lawrence, my love, this is Rowena," David said.

The man who sat before me took my breath away. I had no word to describe him other than impressive. He wasn't tall or large, but he seemed to take up all the space in the room as if by looking at him, your eyes couldn't see anything else. His skin was like a midnight sky lit up by the moon, which seemed to reflect the light as it was so smooth, flawless and radiant. His hair bounced with large curls, and although it was dark too, it seemed to shine with its own light.

As Lawrence stood, his movements were so polished they almost had a serpentine grace. His white lace mask framed his eyes, black with a red rim around the pupil, just like David's. Lawrence came towards me, and I was captivated, struck immobile by the force of his presence. Then all of a sudden, the fear left me as though it was never there. I sucked in air, not realising I hadn't taken a breath since I laid eyes on him.

Lawrence grasped my hands to his chest, just like my brother had. "Oh David, she is lovely, isn't she?" He lifted my hands to his lips and kissed both of them before lifting my arms wide and inspecting me. "She does look luscious in this dress. I do have excellent taste, do I not?"

I looked to David, who was beaming proudly like he had passed a test by bringing me here and meeting Lawrence's approval. Stunned, I looked again at David's smile. Something was wrong with it.

Lawrence was still talking, "You were right that she would be a hard one to crack. She seems to see many things others don't. Including you, by the way." David laughed at Lawrence's observation.

I tried to speak, to ask again what was going on, but nothing came out. I kept trying to breathe but I felt suffocated. The more I tried, the less air seemed to come in.

David grabbed my shoulders and caught my gaze. His voice was solid and musical, and the force of his words almost made me fall. "Rowena, it's alright. You can breathe." And all at once, I could.

"This dress is too tight." I managed to say.

"Nonsense," Lawrence said dismissively, "it's perfect. He is going to love it."

"He?" I questioned.

Lawrence sighed and glanced at David. They looked at each other for a few moments, then David took me by the arm and led me to a cluster of sofas. "Come, sister, sit with me and let's catch up."

Even the way he spoke seemed to change. It can't have been that long since I'd seen him. I thought back and realised I hadn't seen him in about two years. We occasionally spoke on the phone, but years had passed since I had physically seen him.

Lawrence left us mingled around the room, which I saw now was a ballroom. Some people danced, some drank wine, and others socialised. Something was wrong with all of it, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

David started to talk to me, asked me about little Charlie. I went to get my phone to show him some pictures and realised I must have left my bag in the limo. Before I could tell David that, he said, "never mind, the driver works for Lawrence. He has it. You can get it before you leave."

How did he know where I had left my phone? This was too much. "David, what's going on? There's something wrong here. This place is... off."

I suddenly felt bewildered, like I couldn't concentrate on anything. I felt a curious pull towards the back of the hall. I stood and looked back and started to walk towards the doors. It was like I was trapped in a gravitational pull towards... something. Without warning, a spontaneous feeling of arousal hit me, and my body was on fire. I let out an audible moan. I felt a desperate call come from between my legs to ease the rapidly growing craving. And not just by anyone, by Him. Wait, who was Him?

David held my arm and tried to lead me back, but I wouldn't allow it. I struggled for him to let me go. David was about to say something when another announcement was made, "The Crown Prince, Henry, Son of Alfred, King of all Sanguisuge."

I looked first to David to question what on earth that meant when I caught sight of the Prince.

It's Him.

I felt like I was falling, plummeting to the ground. The floor rushed to meet me, and my vision went dark.

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

@henryobsessed

#henry cavill #fanfic #alternate universe #Henry Cavill vampire #alexander skarsgard #werewolf #vampire #henry x ofc

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part one

I know, I know. I just finished a story and I started another one and now I’m posting a different one...I’m insane. But I’ve had this idea for a while, just never wrote it down until last night! Enjoy xx.

Also! It’s Bucky x Reader, but it might read as Steve x Reader. I promise it’s platonic!Steve x Reader, though. Steve has no intentions of stealing Bucky’s girl. He knows Bucky would haunt his ass if he did (this is set in The Winter Soldier movie, so Steve still thinks Buck is dead).

Warnings: just some general sadness and angst, mentions of depression, it’s angst city honestly it made me cry

You watch as the old footage replays of Bucky’s wide grin. The only kind of smile that his best friend, Steve Rogers, could draw out of him with one single look or gesture. The only kind of expression that knocks the wind out of your lungs and sends chills down your spine.

“Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable both on schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country.”

You hastily wipe a tear away. It’s been months since you put the pieces together. Months since your parents told you that they had known for years. Months since they told you they didn’t want to tell you because they didn’t want to see you hurt. 

Months since you’ve realized the man you keep seeing in your dreams is Bucky Barnes.

At first, you thought you were crazy. People dream of faces they’ve never seen all the time, right? 

Soulmates are said to be rare, but not nonexistent. You’ve always thought they were real, just that the world was so cynical to really talk about them. The idea that there is one person out there whose soul is connected to yours is exactly the kind of thing that would send this generation walking the other direction with their middle fingers raised and eyes rolling in disbelief.

Then you started remembering your dreams. You started to see his face more clearly. Granted, you had no idea it was Bucky that you were seeing. 

You came to the Smithsonian almost half a year ago now with your best friend. She realized you both had never been before, and she basically said fuck it one day and took you with her. Her exact words were, “How have we gone to college here for a year and a half and we’ve never been to the damn Smithsonian?”

You weren’t expecting to meet your soulmate that day. 

Of course, you use the word “meet” very loosely. Your soulmate isn’t alive, which explains the emptiness you feel on a daily. It’s been said that soulmates can feel what the other is feeling. Often times it’s muted, but recognizable. 

You got to see his face, to finally realize that it’s Bucky. The Bucky Barnes. 

It sounds ridiculous — and God, you love your best friend for not calling you pathetic that day — but when you walked up to the very exhibit you’re standing at right now and saw Bucky’s smile...you knew. Instantly, you knew. And it moved you to tears.

It was like your soul had finally found her counterpart, here, grinning like a madman next to his best friend, all the way back in the 1940s. 

Your parents knew simply because of things you would say, offhandedly, without even realizing it. 

Your interest in WWII caught their attention, but it surprisingly didn’t last long -- only from about the time that you turned thirteen to a few months before your fourteenth birthday. You would’ve found Bucky a lot sooner had your interest in the war itself lasted much longer, but it didn’t. You wonder now if you subconsciously knew it was Bucky, but steered yourself away from it in an attempt to save yourself the heartache at such a young age. 

Your taste in music has been the constant that they didn’t quite understand at first. You listen to modern tunes, sure, but you’re a sucker for the music of the 40s. Even clothes. You sometimes found yourself leaning toward the styles of the 40s in subtle ways, not realizing it. 

The true confirmation of their suspicions came, though, when your mom said she heard you say Bucky’s name. The first time was on a road trip. You had fallen asleep in the car. You were sixteen at the time. You were dreaming and you have no recollection of ever saying his name. You weren’t even aware that you said his name while you were dreaming until she confessed that day.

You haven’t told anyone about it. Your best friend doesn’t even know. She still believes you got too excited about seeing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, that’s all. She doesn’t know the real reason, the real aching pain that you feel every day. 

The only thing that eases the ache is this. Hogging this exhibit. Watching the footage over and over again. Watching Bucky’s smile and being unable to hold back your own, despite your tears.

You know the staff must think you’re delusional. Somehow you haven’t cared enough to entertain the thought. But you have seen the security guard give you strange looks when you walk in almost every other day.

It used to not be this bad. You came every day for a few weeks, but then you were able to calm down to once a week, sometimes twice a month, if you were too busy with school to think about Bucky much.

But lately, something has changed. You don’t know what it is. You still feel the emptiness, but something is different. It’s...troubled. That’s all your mind can come up with.

It makes no sense, though. How can Bucky be troubled? He’s dead. You believe in ghosts and all -- you’ve never been given a reason not to -- but you’ve heard more stories than you can count from people whose soulmate has died. They all say the same thing. They felt it when it happened. Because it was like a switch was flipped. They were feeling everything one moment, and the next, it was all gone. Empty.

Empty. How you’ve felt since the day you were born. You’ve been to therapists and they all told you the same thing. It’s just your thinking. Change your thinking processes. You’ve never slipped or spiraled far enough for it to be classified as a depressive disorder or anything else, just...empty.

When you found out about having a soulmate, and even more so when you found out it was Bucky, you still felt empty, but not as much. It was like everything suddenly made perfect sense. The emptiness had a purpose, a reason for existing.

When you see him smile, everything makes perfect sense. You feel like you have a reason to exist.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You slowly drag your eyes away from Bucky, preparing yourself to deal with a disgruntled museum-goer or staff member complaining about how long you’ve been standing here. But that’s not who you see.

He’s wearing a hat, but the resemblance is unmistakable.

Quickly, you glance at the video before looking back to the person beside you. That’s him. Steve Rogers.

“Hi,” you say hesitantly, quietly. He’s obviously hiding, which he is right to do. If anyone got wind of Steve Rogers walking around here, there would be mass chaos.

“Hey,” he replies just as quiet. “Um...Wanna get a coffee?”

You have no idea why he’s asking, but you nod anyway. Who would say no to coffee with Captain America?

Outside the Smithsonian and down the block, you bring Steve to your favorite spot to get coffee. Your best friend turned you onto it when you first got here for college, and you’ve gone here weekly ever since.

After grabbing your coffees, you pick a table far enough away from everyone else on the patio to talk without anyone listening in.

“So, uh…” Steve exhales, shifting in his seat. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you shrug, holding onto your cup with both hands. “Why did you ask me to get coffee?”

“You looked familiar,” Steve says, slowly. “What’s your full name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Y/N L/N. Why?”

“Y/N…” Steve mutters under his breath, a crooked smile crossing his face. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Huh?”

“Bucky used to talk to me about you,” Steve continues, and you swear your heart stops. “He had me draw pictures of you. He couldn’t draw for crap, but he kept describing you to me from his dreams. I’ve drawn so many I’d recognize your face anywhere.”

“He dreamt about me?” You whisper. “Really?”

“All the time,” Steve nods, smiling sadly. “So you’re his soulmate?”

“I guess,” you say. “My mom says I used to say his name in my sleep all the time. I dreamt of his face, too, but I never knew it was him. Until my friend took me to the exhibit a few months ago.” You pause. “It sounds stupid. But seeing him there makes me feel...better.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says suddenly. “It can’t be easy being born in a completely different generation.”

You smile softly. “Thank you. I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine how hard it is to still be here after all this time. And without your best friend, too.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy,” Steve admits. “But thanks. I appreciate it.”

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you begin, pausing to think about if you’re going to regret this. “Would you tell me about him? Just anything. It doesn’t have to be anything profound, just...anything you want to talk about. But if it’s too hard, don’t worry about it.” You wave your hands in front of your face, already preparing yourself for Steve to politely turn you down.

But he doesn’t.

“Bucky, he…” Steve pauses, shaking his head. “He was a lot wealthier than me back in the 40s. I had no business acting the way I did, picking fights with people three times my size, but I still did it. And Bucky was always there to pick me up off the ground and give me a ride back home.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle. “You used to be super skinny, right?”

“I was really sick, actually. Bucky had every reason to treat me like anyone else, but he never did. We grew up together -- though I used to joke that he grew up. I stayed the same size. But he never made fun of me for it.”

You can’t help but grin. “That video in the museum -- his smile. I see it in my dreams all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah that was Bucky’s signature grin. He could give any woman that smile and they were his.”

“I can see why,” you admit quietly, averting your eyes when Steve raises his eyebrows. You change subjects, not wanting to talk about how attractive you find Steve’s dead best friend -- despite him being your soulmate. “What was his favorite thing to eat for breakfast?”

Steve takes the bait, and for the next four hours, the two of you sit on the patio, talking about Bucky Barnes. 

His favorite color? Your eyes. Which you think is a little ridiculous, but Steve swears it’s the truth.

His favorite thing to do? Go dancing. Hands down.

His favorite thing to talk about? You. Again, you give Steve a stern look, and again, he swears it’s true. But when he wasn’t talking about you, Steve says Bucky talked a lot about the future. He was an optimist. Steve has no idea how, but Bucky always saw the brightest side.

Bucky was kind. Kinder than a lot of men his age, at the time. He had that blinding smile and instead of hiding it and going for the mysterious, brooding attitude, he chose to smile as much as he could, to anyone who looked like they needed it.

Realizing that the sun is beginning to go down, Steve decides to get you home.

“It’s alright, I can walk,” you tell him, feeling high on everything Bucky. “It’s just up here. I go to college here.”

“At least let me walk you to the campus,” Steve offers.

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Bucky would kill me if I let his girl walk home alone. Especially when it’s getting dark.”

“Fine,” you cave. Hearing Steve refer to you as “Bucky’s girl” sends chills down your spine -- the good kind of chills. The kind that makes you wish it was the 1940s. The kind that makes you wish Bucky was here, holding your hand, walking you home.

Once you reach campus (you decide to let Steve walk you all the way to your dorm building), you ask Steve the question you’ve been wondering about ever since you first saw Bucky in the museum.

“Hey Steve?”

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Steve turns his head toward you. “Yeah?”

“If this was the 40s...do you-- Do you think I’m the kind of girl Bucky would want?”

Steve’s steps falter. You slow your pace to match his until you’re both stopped, looking at one another.

“What is it?” You ask.

“Yes,” Steve says simply. “Yeah. I do. I know for a fact he would’ve torn down every building until he found you. Because he tried.”

Your breath hitches. Deep down, you had convinced yourself that you weren’t the kind of girl Bucky would want. Not that it’s your fault because you were born this side of the millennium. But to hear Steve tell you otherwise makes you freeze.

“What?”

“Bucky didn’t have me sketch you because he wanted me to practice my drawing. He did it because he wanted to see a picture of you. Something he could keep in his wallet and look at every night. He was a ladies man, yeah, but every single one...he wanted them to be you. But they never were.” Steve shakes his head. “It really tore him up, that he never found you. He still held out hope, though. Until the very last second.”

Tears have sprung to your eyes before you even realize it. 

“Before he fell, he--” Steve pauses. “He told me to promise that I’d find you. I guess I kept my promise after all.”

He looks up to see the tears in your eyes, streaming down your cheeks. Without a single word, Steve pulls you into his chest, and without hesitation, you let yourself cry.

He’s not Bucky. And you’ll never find your Bucky, but he’s close enough. Steve promised Bucky that he’d find you, and he kept that promise. Now he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe.

Because he knows for a fact Bucky would’ve wanted that, too.

#i knew you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #platonic!steve x reader #captain america: the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes soulmate au #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #angst city y'all #it will not have real fluff for a while #we are stuck in traffic in angst city lmao #oops

[hi-hey-haechan]

can you do one where you just suck lucas iff when he’s laying there and you’re hidden and you keep sucking him

!“I’m not even joking. They’d keep going for hours. I couldn’t look them in the eyes for a week following. How the heck were they so loud?” You explained, your mind flashing back to the horrible memories. Lucas, however, had his head thrown back against the pillow, laughing his head off. 

He had a habit of asking spontaneous questions, and so this time, you were lying next to each other on top of the covers of your bed. He’d asked what your least favorite day of the year was, and you always replied with it being your parents’ anniversary. As horrible as it felt to say, you never slept on those nights. Your parents were so loud with their... activities, and somewhere along the lines, they thought that starting after midnight just naturally assumed that you’d be asleep, unable to hear them. Telling your boyfriend about it, though, you couldn’t contain your laughter, realizing how hilarious the situation was. The way you described it also featured dry humor, which, when mixed with the topic of sex, created something very funny. 

“You must have been so traumatized,” Lucas said in between giggles.

“That dark part of my childhood still haunts me,” you agreed, shuddering at the memories.

“Gosh, at least we’re not that loud,” he pointed out, regaining his breath.

Your head whipped to the side to look straight at him. Was he being serious right then? “You’re right. We are not that loud, but you are.” Lucas had trouble staying quiet when he felt good, whereas you could remain almost silent the entire time if you really tried to. You weren’t complaining -- the moans that came out of him were hot, his voice low and deep. 

“I’m just blessing both of our ears,” Lucas replied, grinning cheekily, to which you rolled your eyes.

“It doesn’t change the fact that you’re loud,” you pointed out.

Lucas raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I can be quiet if I want to. Watch me.”

Just when you were about to ask how, exactly, he’d be able to prove this claim, his phone rang, Kun’s contact name showing up on the screen. Lucas held up a finger, as if to say, “Give me a minute,” but you, however, had other plans.

“What’s up?” Lucas asked into the phone, casually. As Kun replied, your hands slowly undid the belt to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans following the process. When you looked up at your boyfriend’s face, a pair of wide, confused eyes were staring back at you.

All you could do was smirk as an immediate response. You pressed a kiss against the bulge of his boxers, breath hitching in his throat as you did so. He stuttered on his reply, but he played it off really well. “You can be quiet?” you whispered, looking up at him. “Prove it.”

“Ten and Yangyang are trying to prank Sicheng? What do you want me to do about it?” Lucas asked into the phone, rolling his eyes in the process. You wanted to make the act of staying quiet more difficult for him. As a result, you pressed one of your hands against his clothed bulge, slowly yet almost skillfully palming him through his boxers. The heat of him radiated against your hand, and you felt him grow harder under your light touch. 

“W-wait, you want m-me to help prank him?” As soon as those words passed his lips, he glared at you, giving you a look that said, “You will regret this.”

You just gave him a simple shrug, and the look in your eyes was an innocent one. Lucas said, “No, of course I’ll help. But I’m currently with y/n, and I don’t intend on leaving.” Your fingers tugged the waistband of his boxers down, just enough to free his straining erection from the fabric. The look in Lucas’ eyes had turned to something fearful and pleading. In response to this, you engulfed the tip of his long, thick length in your mouth. 

He was sensitive there, and the fact that the pleasure had caught him off-guard made it even more difficult to remain quiet. A loud moan passed his lips, but he attempted to pass it off as a cough. It was convincing enough, you supposed. Too convincing. You were losing.

“H-how are we gonna--” he held the phone away from him for a second, letting out the slightest, most helpless whine you’d ever heard from him, when you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on the tip. The saltiness of his precum ran over your tongue, and if your mouth wasn’t around his length, you’d be smirking at the moment. “How are we gonna scare him?” Lucas inquired. His tone was higher than usual, almost as though he was straining to get out his words.

After Kun spoke for a second, your boyfriend said, “Dogs.” He sort of gasped it out, but only you could really catch onto it. Lucas honestly only sounded as though he’d just come up with the idea and considered it a great discovery. Kun must have simply inquired what would scare Sicheng the most.

Lucas was too good at this. You had to make it more difficult on him, you knew, so you decided to slide your mouth down his length. Anticipating his huge size, you relaxed your throat and breathed through your nose as you deepthroated him. Your boyfriend could never contain himself when you took his length down your throat. One of his large hands knotted in your hair, finding something to grasp onto amidst his pleasure. He was so distracted, he didn’t even hear Kun’s question.

“Yes,” he replied, hoping Kun had inquired a yes-or-no question.

After another moment of Kun’s reply, Lucas said, “I can ask Bae-Baekhyun if one of his members has a big dog.” He was doing well, admittedly, at being quiet, but every word he said came out as though it was laborious, like he was struggling to just speak a sentence. 

Your throat was starting to hurt, so you withdrew from his length for a second. The muscles in Lucas’ stomach and shoulders suddenly relaxed. You’d provided him a second of relief. As a result, right as he opened his mouth to reply, you wrapped one hand around his thick length, which was slick, as a result of your previous actions. You rapidly moved your hand up and down his length, applying pressure to each of your fingers.

“F-fuck!” Lucas managed. “O-oh, I mean, that would be hilarious--” he trailed off, holding the phone away from him and attempting to cover the microphone as he bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut as stifled groans slipped out of him.

Kun went on to recite the entire plan. Perfect timing for you to speed up your hand without warning. Lucas gasped, and you knew Kun probably heard it, but he failed to mention it. 

Your lips enclosed around his length again, but you force him so deep this time. Instead, you settled for taking some of him in your mouth, and leaving your hand to jerk off the rest of his length, squeezing at some points. The entire time, his stomach muscles were clenching and unclenching, and his thighs would suddenly threaten to close around you at moments of heightened pleasure. This caught him off-guard, even more so than any of your other sudden actions. A series of moans spilled past his lips, sounds of pleasure that he couldn’t even attempt to play off as a cough. 

“What?” Lucas’ voice was higher than usual. “Yeah, I’m fine--ah” His statement ended with a noise that he couldn’t stifle, due to you bobbing your head on his length. “I just fell,” he said quickly, as though he could cover up what was really going on.

“Make Ten call him,” Lucas said into the phone, “I’m kinda -- fuck -- busy right now.”

His breaths grew shallower, and you knew that he was growing close to his high. You swirled your tongue around the part of him that was in your mouth. Suddenly, you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him harshly as he said, “Busy with stuff--” a legitimate whine passed his lips. “Lemme mute you for a second.”

Lucas’ legs were shaking, and his length was throbbing in your mouth, begging for release. In the next second, moans spilled out of his mouth, which was agape. His eyes were shut. The sounds he made were higher than his usual voice at times, but they were deep, rich, and so hot to you. You could no longer ignore the wetness that had pooled in your panties, which were sticking to you uncomfortably. He released his load into your mouth, the taste of him hot and salty, but pleasant at the same time. You locked eyes with Lucas as you swallowed his load. His chest was rising and falling, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“Next time, make sure you actually mute me,” Kun said loudly into the phone, as you pulled away from Lucas’ now-soft length. “Have fun with your ‘stuff.’” He sounded alarmed and desperate to hang up, which he did immediately.

“I think it’s safe to say that you lost the bet,” you told Lucas, finally giving him the smirk that you wanted to display the entire time.

A/N ~ sorry this took so long. I went camping and honestly stalled writing this. I’m back now, and I’m now better mentally than I was last week, which is good. Anyways, this was honestly really fun to write.

#nct smut #wayv smut #superm smut #lucas smut #wong yukhei #yukhei smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop hard hours #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #nct imagines #nct hard hours #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #lucas

[ariendiel]

ELLI I WILL NEVER GET OVER RH. However I'd love the opportunity to interrogate question your lovely characters. 💖

Ok first off: Headmaster Koh, if you're ever in need of a new.. em assistant, hmu. 👀😏

Also, Ada, Noah, will you either let me join your marriage or adopt me as your second child? K thanks, love you bye.

But now off to the serious questions:

Bobby, how did you respond Ada and Noah's marriage? And assuming they named their son after you, what was your reaction? Also, what are you up to nowadays?

Ada, what is your favourite part of your garden? Also, do you have any regrets about leaving RH now that you've settled into your new life?

Noah, as a modern man, how do you deal with the uptight royal society? You mentioned wanting to change things over there, how will you do that?

Headmaster Koh, what is your opinion about Ada marrying Noah?

Priya, how's the nomad life treating you? Any fun stories to share with us peasants?

Hannah, why are you such a bitch? what was the point in being such a snake? Did you gain anything from your actions?

Chelsea, are you and Henrik married yet? And how is Sweden?

Ibrahim, what's your friendship with Noah like? Are you still in contact after everything that happened? You're honestly amazing.

Jakub, did you ever get over losing that duel?

Ada, what's Noah's family like and how do they make you feel about your own family? Did your family every got in contact after you got married? And if so, how did they react?

I feel like I could ask 2391274017491 more but I'll leave it at this... for now...

SDJHSHDJSHD THANK YOU DEBBY! And your questions! So good! Thank you so much!

Turns out this got quite long, so answers are below the line... Hope you like it 🤍

🥞 Bobby, how did you respond Ada and Noah's marriage? And assuming they named their son after you, what was your reaction? Also, what are you up to nowadays?

If you must know, I may have written quite a lengthy and (yes, I will admit) emotional letter to my dear friend, Mrs. Buan-Alexander, to express my feelings on the matter. If I had not been in Scotland at the time I would have very much enjoyed to attent their wedding, but for some reason those two seemed rather in a rush... Little Robert Alexander is also such a delightful little boy, and I was honoured they named him for me. With those two as his parents he might even do me honour in growing up to become nearly as handsome as well! These days I am trying to avoid marriage as best as I can while my parents do their best to lure me into one – as per usual.

Bobby

🌿 Ada, what is your favourite part of your garden? Also, do you have any regrets about leaving RH now that you've settled into your new life?

Why, thank you for asking! I must say that while I do find it difficult to choose, I do favour my pavilion with its many climbing roses. It has the most marvelous views of our pond and the rest of our gardens, and after we got a duchesse brisée it has also been a favoured spot for my husband to read, sometimes out loud for me to enjoy as well. Now, regarding regrets. Yes, I have a few, mostly in leaving behind my opportunity to teach other young women and see them enjoy the taste of knowledge. Then again, perhaps I may start my own version of the Royal Society for women one day?

Adaline

🌑 Noah, as a modern man, how do you deal with the uptight royal society? You mentioned wanting to change things over there, how will you do that?

I would not describe myself as a modern man, but I thank you for such a gracious observation and dare I say compliment? The Royal Society is an old establishment, and thus suffer both it benefits and disadvantages I am afraid. I can only deal with them to the extent my noble rank and thus access to politics and parliament allows, but I am petitioning for change. I do fear it may be a while before they come to accept my views however, to the detriment of bright women such as my wife. Thank you so much for asking, Miss... May I call you Debby?

Noah

🍆 Headmaster Koh, what is your opinion about Ada marrying Noah?

After a few choice word with my fellow gentleman as to how to treate women and one's dear wife, I am quite sure we see eye to eye and my opinion of him is reflected thus. If anything, he proved to be more honourable than I expected, and have enjoyed to visit when time allows me to do so.

Yours,

Headmaster Lucas Koh

💋 Priya, how's the nomad life treating you? Any fun stories to share with us peasants?

Nomad? Oh what a fun way to describe it! I must adopt that, it sounds all too exotic not to. My nomad life is treating me splendidly I must say. Italian gentlemen are especially hospitable and making me ever grateful Ada taught me a thing or two about botanical remedies... I do fear most of my stories would be rather inappropriate, but I did have to be rescued by a gentleman from The Seine, which was quite exciting I must say.

Love,

Priya

🍂 Hannah, why are you such a bitch? what was the point in being such a snake? Did you gain anything from your actions?

A snake? Do your parents now you speak such? Not very ladylike I must say. I merely did what anyone should have done, and prevented scandalous indecensies in a place of learning for vulnerable young ladies. Some have dared to presume I might have had feelings for Mr. Alexander myself, but I would never, no matter how striking, dreamy, noble, and handsome he may be! I have gained the respect from my elders, or at least from Miss. Sarabi, and I know I did what God would have wanted. So there.

Miss. Perkins

🌸 Chelsea, are you and Henrik married yet? And how is Sweden?

We are! Is it not wonderful! He really is so charming and most attentive, every time we go for a promenade he always picks me flowers. He even knows to give Mopsey some now as well as we both prefer pink as it's most flattering, do you not agree? I am sure he would pick some for you too if you ever were to visit. Sweden is truly rather different, and the language is impossible! My dearest Henrik has thankfully agreed we will be spending the winters in England or further south to get some sun, I do really think it helps.

Chelsea

🌼 Ibrahim, what's your friendship with Noah like? Are you still in contact after everything that happened? You're honestly amazing.

Oh, thank you that is very kind, and unexpected! But any compliment is much appreciated. Noah and I are still close friends, and although we rarely see each other these days I am merely thrilled he has found his happiness. We are childhood friends and that is a bond that is not easily broken, after all he is like a brother to me, and the best one at that.

Mr. Ibrahim Chapman

⚔️ Jakub, did you ever get over losing that duel?

Duel? What duel? I do not remember ever losing a duel...

Mr. Zabinsky

🌿 Ada, what's Noah's family like and how do they make you feel about your own family? Did your family every got in contact after you got married? And if so, how did they react?

My husband's family is everything I thought a family should be like, I must admit. They are kind and loving, and most of all they genuinely care for one another - something my family seldom did. For a while after my wedding I dared hope my family would change, but their only reaction has been to ask for financial aid. After ignoring the last plea from my mother, I have not heard from them in a while, although it pained me to know my Robert will never know that side of his family.

Adaline

For my Rosehill House q&a, ask me and the characters anything!

#Q&A #rosehill house #litg s2 #litg fanfic #litg noah #guess who accidentally posted this early and forgot to include half the answers 🥴 #but they should all be there now skjdjsj