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zegrasdrysdale · 1 month

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[ sober thoughts ] n. hischier

paring: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico appears on his best friend’s doorstep after the Stadium Series win and confessions are made

warning(s) : slightly drunk nico, mentions of alcohol (but no actual alcohol consumption involved)

author’s note : pls ignore any typos bc i thought of this while drunk and wrote it while tipsy so i will go back and edit when i am 100% sober. it’s a v short and cute thing that i wanted to write (even tho i am working on like 7 different requests rn)

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The moment ‘nico 🏒🤍’ appears on her phone screen, she thinks something is wrong. She’s especially worried because it’s nearly two in the morning. Something could be seriously wrong.

The last time they talked, Nico was getting in an Uber to go to the bar after they won the Stadium Series game against the Flyers. That was a half hour after the end of the game and nearly three hours ago at this point.

A very exhausted and confused (Y/N) quickly answers the phone as soon as she processes what’s going on.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice slurred with sleep. “Do I need to come get you from the bar?”

“I’m outside your apartment building,” he tells her. “Can I please come inside? It’s so cold outside and I just played a game in this weather. Please let me in.”

She rolls over and turns on her bedside lamp before she walks to the window. Outside on the sidewalk stands her best friend and captain of the New Jersey Devils. He smiles up at her and waves. “Oh my God,” she gasps as she puts on a pair of slippers. “Why are you just standing outside my building like that?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you,” he tells her as she grabs her keys and leaves her apartment. “It felt very wrong that I wasn’t celebrating with my best friend after one of the most amazing games and one of the most beautiful moments of my career. If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

Without tripping down any stairs, she says, “It’s okay. I was just worried you were passed out on the side of the road in East Rutherford.” She pushes the main entrance door open. “Yet here you are on my doorstep.”

Nico smiles and stumbles up the steps after he hangs up the phone when he sees her. He trips on the last step. She catches him and he catches himself on the doorway. She can smell the alcohol on his breath because of how close they are to each other, yet her heart races in her chest since they’re so close to each other.

“Are you drunk?” she asks as she backs away from him with a look on her face. “How did you get here? Don’t tell me you drove because I might kill you and your team is going to be left without a captain.”

“I’ve had a few drinks,” he admits to her. “I took an Uber because I did have a few drinks. I didn’t drive here. Don’t worry. I still have brain cells.”

Nico walks into the building in a hoodie and jeans instead of the tracksuit he showed up to MetLife in. She’s happy he is in actual clothes because if he showed up in that tracksuit, she might lose it.

“Why did you come here instead of going home?” she questions as they make their way up to her apartment. “I thought that maybe after the game you’d celebrate with your teammates then go home to sleep.”

They walk into the apartment as soon as she unlocks the door. “I told you that I wanted to come celebrate with my best friend,” he replies. She closes the door behind her. “Especially since I couldn’t get you into the stadium to watch the game. I wanted you to be a part of this day.”

She pouts and sits on the couch as Nico turns on one of the lamps. “Your family flew in for the game,” she says to him. “I shouldn’t take priority over them. I get to see you play all the time. They don’t.”

He sits next to her. Not too close but close enough where she can feel the heat coming off his body. If he were to move his knee, it would bump into hers.

“You’re my family too,” Nico softly says. “I wanted you to be there.”

“I’m your friend, Nico,” she sighs. “I’m not your girlfriend or your wife. I didn’t need to be there.”

It feels like she is trying to convince herself too because sometimes the line blurs. Sometimes she doesn’t know what she is to him. She has to remind herself that they aren’t together, and probably will never be together.

A moment of silence falls over them. She looks at her hands on her lap while she plays with her thumbs. Nico’s big brown eyes never leave her while she avoids looking at him.

Nico sighs and practically whispers, “I wished you were there as my girlfriend.”

Her head snaps up and she blinks at him. “You what?”

“I wished you were at the game as my girlfriend,” Nico repeats. “The entire time I wished that you were at the family skate and sitting in the suite with everyone else’s families. I wished you had one of those cute jackets that the wives and girlfriends had with my number on it.”

She stares at him until he’s done talking. Then she starts to shake her head. “You’re just saying that because you have been drinking,” she replies. “You don’t actually mean that.”

Never once has Nico shown that he wanted to be in any kind of romantic relationship with her. He’s never given her any kind of hint or sign that he wanted to be more than just friends with her.

They’ve known each other since Nico moved to the US in 2017 to play in the NHL and never once did it seem like he wanted something more.

There is no way he means that.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he says.

“Then tell me when you’re sober,” she retorts. “Tell me in the morning if you actually mean it.”

Nico frowns and brushes a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “Schätzli, you have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that,” he tells her. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until I wake up before I tell you again.”

Almost as if on cue, he yawns. “Go to sleep, Nico,” she says to him. “Tell me whatever you want in the morning. You know where the guest room is but do you need my help in getting there?”

He shakes his head and sinks down against the back of the couch. “I’ll get there eventually,” he replies. “You can go back to sleep.”

With a nod, she stands up. Nico’s eyes are half open so she takes off his shoes and pulls his legs up onto the cushions. She grabs a blanket to throw over him as he lets out soft snores. The alcohol has finally caught up to him and knocked him out.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to hear you say that you wanted me to be your girlfriend,” she whispers to a sleeping Nico. “All it took you was having a few drinks and winning a big game before you told me how you felt.”

She presses a soft kiss to his temple before she retreats down the hallway to her bedroom just in case he wasn’t actually asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The smell of coffee is the thing that wakes her up in the morning. Not the sunlight or an alarm. Coffee. It takes a second before she remembers that Nico stayed over.

She remembers Nico telling her that he wishes she was at the Stadium Series game as his girlfriend. She has no idea if he remembers that he said that to her.

It’s time to find out.

Slowly, she makes her way out to the kitchen. She finds Nico standing at the coffee machine with his back to the hallway. She yawns and walks into the kitchen area.

“Morning,” she softly says so she doesn’t scare him. He turns his head and looks at her. “You making coffee?”

Nico nods and pours them both a cup. He puts cream in her cup and hands it to her. “I figured we could both use a cup,” he tells her. “Me to get rid of this hangover and you because I woke you up at two in the morning.”

She blows on her coffee before taking a sip. “How much of last night do you remember?” she curiously asks as she leans against the counter beside him.

The moment of silence that follows worries her. He probably doesn’t remember what he said, and she isnt going to remind him if he doesn’t remember.

He takes a sip of his own coffee before he asks, “Are you asking me if I remember telling you that I wish you were my girlfriend? Yes, if that’s the case. I told you that I meant it.”

“And you’re sober?”

“Very,” Nico replies. “And very hungover.”

It surprises her to the point where she almost drops her cup of coffee. Her eyes widen and Nico smiles. “Nico, I could kill you and kiss you at the same time because why did it take you playing in one of the biggest games in your career before you-”

Nico takes the cup of coffee out of her hand while she’s talking then cuts her off by bringing his lips to hers. She gasps in surprise then melts against him as he presses her against the counter. She wraps her arms around his neck and puts her fingers in his hair so he can’t break the kiss.

Never in her life did she think that she would be in her kitchen kissing her best friend of nearly seven years. The thought only occurred in dreams and occasionally during games when she found him attractive, which is really all the time.

This is something she has wanted for two years. Since the moment she realized that she was in love with Nico.

He lifts her up and sits her down on the counter. He stands between her knees and rests his hands on her thighs.

It becomes too much for her and she has to pull back for a second to breathe. Her eyes meet his and finds worry in them. “I just- I don’t think you understand how long I have waited for this,” she breathes out. “Wanted this. Wanted you. I just need a second.”

Nico smiles and pushes her hair behind her ears before he cups her jaw. “I’m such an idiot for waiting so long before I told you,” he replies. “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you, Schätzli.” His voice drops to nearly a whisper and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

“We’re both idiots,” she tells him. “I’m glad you meant it though. I thought you were going to get my hopes up.”

He shakes his head and kisses her nose. “I would never lie to you about loving you.”

“Well I love you too,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Nico laughs and envelopes her in a hug. She smiles and happily accepts the hug.

“I told you that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“I believe you now.”

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MASTERLIST

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taglist : @dasiysthings @ithinkimokeei @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @stony1386 @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fanfiction #nico hischier fic #nico hischier fluff

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v0rpalsword · 2 months

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On Calling Out Antisemitism... in the Crossword

So I like to do crosswords. It's fun, sometimes I learn random facts, it exercises my brain, and that jolt of satisfaction when I figure out the gimmick brightens my day. I usually do it on the Washington Post, which is the same as the LA Times, mainly because it's free (though these days I pay for the WP in large part because I like Alexandra Petri's pieces, but I digress.)

So there I am, working on the Sunday crossword at work on a quiet Monday morning, and the clue is "sanctimonious sort." Could be many things, I skip it and continue. Slowly, as I get some of the crosses, I say to myself, "surely this isn't going to be 'pharisee'. I'm gonna be so mad if the answer is 'pharisee.'"

The answer was Pharisee.

If you don't know why that's a problem, in brief: The Pharisees were the precursors to modern Rabbinic Judaism, and that word has been used by those enacting violence upon us for centuries-- throughout blood libels, Inquisition, crusades, expulsions, etc. When "pharisee" means "sanctimonious, hypocritical, self-righteous, etc." and "pharisee" also means "Jew" even of the historic variety, it tends to be extremely bad news for the actual living Jews of whatever era it is.

So I wrote the editors of the LA Times and the Washington Post, and I said so. I told them about the history of the term. I told them that at a time when antisemitism across the United States is rising alarmingly, it is, at best, deeply irresponsible of the newspapers to allow this insidious conflation of Judaism with moral corruption and hypocrisy to appear in what ought to be a light-hearted game.

And you know what? I got a response from the LA Times within hours apologizing for the harm and saying they'd reached out to the crossword writing company to discuss it. I got a response from the acquisitions editor, who had spoken with the crossword editor, conveying their sincere apologies, saying that they were unaware of the antisemitic implications of the term, and they would never intentionally cause harm. They thanked me for bringing it to their attention, and also thanked me for my suggestion of an alternate clue ("Contemporary of Jesus").

We on Jumblr and in the Jewish community offline have spent so much time talking our throats hoarse and our typing fingers sore about the harms of antisemitism, especially since October 7. I know many of us are feeling frustrated, burnt out, and hopeless. We start to wonder what the point is, when none of it seems to be making a dent. I almost didn't send that email. I almost let it go. I let myself be distracted by work, forgot about it for a week or so until something reminded me and I got angry all over again, and then I sent off an email that I expected to be buried in the inbox to maybe get a response in a month or so, because even if it never got read, at least I knew I had written it. But it did get read, and it got shared with the relevant people, and they cared.

Sometimes people listen. Sometimes they learn. Sometimes, all it takes is one person saying "hey, this hurt me."

I'm taking the win today.

#jumblr #antisemetism tw #antisemitism #pharisees #crossword #if you come into my mentions with anything 'well actually' about the pharisees I will block you

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barblaz-arts · 18 days

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Fellow Chaggie shipper, here and I wanted to ask you a question. Could you please do an analysis post on the Chaggie argument from Hello Rosie. I know this will sound weird but I can't get over the level of icy anger Charlie had towards Vaggie or how despite everything going on, Charlie is more hurt from Vaggie not being honest with her. Just angst all around.

Oh yeah sure I'd love to!

I'm not sure there's a lot I can say about that argument that isn't already super obvious, so I wanna talk about Charlie's anger because of something my brother said as we watched episode 7. He loved that episode apparently because "When they're separated, it's even more obvious that Charlie is the one who's more quick to lose her cool." Which, looking back, is actually true!(To an extent)

Vaggie and Charlie are both quite quick to anger. Charlie is just better at hiding it because she's a chronic people pleaser. Although Charlie wouldn't immediately show her anger at a person being a jerk to her specifically, she's immediately summoning fire and brimstone over anyone who hurts/insults her friends or the cause she's fighting for.

Love this lil bit in "You Didn't Know". How Vaggie is the one telling Charlie to calm down, as if she knows what's about to happen. She knows that if she doesn't at least try to reel in her girl Charlie would be spitting literal fire at a goddamn seraphim.

It would seem like such a surprising role reversal, but if you look at all the times Charlie would lose it whenever Vaggie's not there to tell her "babe, chill", then it makes sense.

But then when their fallout happens, Charlie's short temper is even more apparent. She calls Alastor an asshole to his face even though she considered choosing his support over her father's. She openly glares and rolls her eyes at Rosie when she jokes that her and Alastor look like an item even though she still kept things cordial with Valentino after he licked her arm. She flips the bird at some old lady even though she didn't take visible offense at all the demons that inserted their crude and rude selves in "Happy Day in Hell." While she was cold and subdued even when upset with Vaggie, she was explosive and in ur face when she was pissed at everyone else.

Vaggie reigned in both the girl in Charlie who dreams a little too big and the demon who's waiting to lash out in flames. It really makes me wonder if there's a difference in the kind of person Charlie used to be before Vaggie. Before she had friends to be angry on behalf of and a person to calm her down. And then, in the wake of their argument, Charlie is left with a lot of anger that is easy to ignite.

But I love love love that despite all that anger, Charlie can't bring herself to deny that she loves Vaggie with all of her hurt heart.

This little moment is one of my favorite parts in the series. My brother mentioned that this episode and episode three were his favorites because he liked the beats the dialogues followed. So he looked back--

(the man literally paused the episode to check the opening credits of ep 7 and 3. I was a little annoyed because I just wanted my Chaggie dammit! We'd make terrible youtube reactors with all the pausing and discussing mid-episode that we do...)

--and was satisfied to see that it was written by the same person, Ariel Ladensohn. Apparently she's in a sapphic relationship too and projected her own experiences whenever she wrote Vaggie and Charlie, and it must have paid off because the moments she wrote with them felt so real.

Charlie expressing her fear that even Vaggie's support and love could also be part of the lies she told was understandable considering the betrayal she felt. But immediately following that she goes "Oh that's a horrible to thing to think!" which I love even more. Even when she's understandably mad she thinks about how Vaggie would feel over Charlie thinking that of her. Because although Vaggie lied about who she is, Vaggie was always sincere about how she felt for Charlie. Vaggie's past may have been a lie, but the things she did for, to, and on behalf of Charlie were very real and held dear in Charlie's heart.

I dont have anything smart to say to conclude this. Sorry, I'm not even sure where I went here. Let's all just appreciate the smile Charlie has on her face when she thinks about Vaggie even when she's under a lot of stress I guess.

#asks #hazbin hotel #chaggie #truly love charlie as a character #i dont agree with people who say that charlie didn't feel like the main character of the show #she is still very much the heart and star of the story #if they felt more drawn to the male characters that isn't fully the show's fault #Alastor didn't even have as much screentime as i thought he would have #which is good!#he's entertaining but better in certain doses

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trblsvt · 1 month

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so obvious | jeon wonwoo

summary | so you disclosed your relationship to admin. now all you needed to do was break the news to your students. maybe they could pick up on the signs you were dropping? genre | fluff, teacher!au warnings | swearing (maybe, i don't think so), corny couple stuff word count | 2.4k words pairing | jeon wonwoo x fem!reader minli | lowercase intended so this is technically a sequel to this piece that i wrote a while ago! a lot of people wanted a part 2! i'm not sure how i feel about this... it's a bit tamer than what i was going for initially, but this is my return i suppose. hope all is well with everyone

wonwoo rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock. unfortunately, it was 7:00 am, so it was time to get up. he turned back over to wake you. "___, my love, it's time to get up," he murmured in your ear. he felt your skin raise at his touch, and he smiled. you groaned and rolled over to face wonwoo. you immediately buried your face into the crook of his neck. he chuckled and pulled you closer to him. "it's time for school," he urged. you groaned. "come on, let's get going," he tugged on you playfully. "the sooner we get there, the sooner we can come back home."

"that's not how that works," you rolled your eyes as you practically fell out of bed. wonwoo sat up against the headboard and watched you gather your things to get ready. "today's the big day, right?" you asked, looking at him. he nodded. today was the day the two of you agreed to disclose your relationship with your students. it was about time, and if you were honest, you were just happy to get it over with. "i was thinking i could just tell my first period class, and let the information spread on it's own. how were you thinking of doing it?" you asked wonwoo, sitting back down on the bed.

wonwoo gazed at you with an emotion you couldn't pinpoint. "i actually was thinking about that last night," he began.

"oh no," you laughed leaning into his body. his arms wrapped around you. "maybe, we could reveal it in a more, how should i say, grand way?" he suggested.

“grand?” you asked. wonwoo was never one for big announcements. you were surprised he even agreed to announce it to the students in the first place. now he was talking about something grand? he smiled shyly, “yeah, maybe we could, like, hold hands.” he looked at you so seriously. you couldn’t help but laugh, “hold hands?” you repeated. he pouted, gripping your hand tighter. “what? you don’t like that idea?” he asked.

“no, no, sorry. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that,” you quickly tried to reassure him. “you know i like holding hands with you.”

“you only like holding hands with me?” he teased.

“love. i love holding your hand” you corrected, kissing his cheek. he smiled leaning back in bed, considering his plan. “it would be cool to sort of have them figure it out on their own,” he said. “like a mystery. we could hold hands, hug… just be more touchy, i guess.”

“so you’re suggesting we act like a normal couple,” you said.

“well, when you say it like that…” he rolls out of bed, pulling you up with him.

“plus, we don’t want to be indecent at school of all places,” you smiled, resting your hands on his shoulders. he chuckled, “indecent? never.”

"so, you still don't believe there's any chance of miss ___ and mr. jeon getting together?" daniel asked his two friends lily and mina. lily slumped down in her chair. they were sitting in mr. jeon's class, bright and early for first period. "lily doesn't believe it's possible anymore. remember how many times miss ___ shut her down last time?" mina sighed.

"well, i have news for you guys," daniel smiled, leaning over the table. "i saw miss ___ reach for mr. jeon's hand today on the way into the teacher lounge." mina practically shrieked at the news. lily still looked unimpressed. nothing in her mind could make her change her mind.

"maybe she was just reaching for the door handle after him," lily rolled her eyes.

"how could she if mr. jeon was holding the door already?" daniel argued. "aren't you the person who wanted them to be together more than anything?" it was true, lily really wanted to believe her two favorite teachers could be together. yet, she had a hard time believing in it. miss ___ always dodged her questions and mr. jeon was cryptic as ever. it seemed fruitless. "c'mon just entertain it," daniel pleaded. lily rolled her eyes. there couldn't be any harm in hoping.

"___, don't you think that's a little risky? couldn’t you just put your ring on your finger and see if anyone notices?" seungkwan groaned as he sat down on the chair across from you in the lounge. "it feels like it would violate some sort of public indecency mandate or something," he added. you just rolled your eyes even though you had the same thought. "come on, you know wonwoo wouldn't do something too crazy," you assured. just as you said that you felt a hand wrap around your waist and turn you around. suddenly there was a pair of lips on yours, and you kissed back. "hello, my darling," wonwoo smiled.

"hi," you laughed.

"i believe you stand corrected," seungkwan fake gagged and left to get more coffee. you looked at wonwoo and smiled. "you can't do this in front of the students," you teased.

"me? kiss you in front the students? never," he smirked, leaning down to kiss you again. you leaned away and pushed his face away playfully. "i'd prefer it if you didn't do it in front of seungkwan's coffee either. looks like he's going to be sick," you pointed out. wonwoo glanced over at seungkwan, who was fake throwing up and looking at them with disgust. “he can close his eyes,” he smiled, leaning in to kiss you again. but, you stop him by slightly moving his face away with your hand again. “don’t you have class to get to?” you asked.

“can’t a man love his wife?” he rolled his eyes.

“this particular man doesn’t have a wife.”

“yet. that’s a technicality.” wonwoo looked at you with a slight smile on his lips. “you love technicalities!” you pointed out.

“oh, gosh. look at the time. i have a class to get to,” he looked at the silver watch on his wrist and left the lounge giggling at his own humor.

“dork.”

before you stepped into class, you had listened to seungkwan and slipped the ring off the necklace hanging around your neck and onto your finger. maybe they would notice the diamond as you pointed at the board. you stepped into the classroom, and you noticed something in the air felt wrong. you glanced over at mina and daniel, who were staring you down. meanwhile, lily was slumped in her seat, but she was still looking at you like she was expecting something. you brushed it off and got up to the front of class. “hi, everyone!” you said cheerily. “how has the day been?” you were expecting the default answer of “good” from everyone, so you were a bit surprised when daniel said, “lily is ruining my mood.” he was promptly smacked by mina.

“guys, please do not hit each other,” you sighed. “maybe you should talk to lily and try to sort it out privately.” daniel nodded and slumped into his chair.

the rest of class went on without much of a hitch. you even tried to motion with your hands more so they would notice the shining stone on your ring finger. but, halfway through class, there was a knock on the door and it opened quickly. you looked up from writing on the board and saw wonwoo step into class. “mr. jeon,” you said surprised. he looked at you sheepishly and looked around the classroom. “miss ___, i- uh- you forgot your lunch,” he smiled holding up your lunch bag and taking another step into the room. your students were silent as he stepped into the room. “so sorry to interrupt. i had my free period so i thought i could swing by to drop it off,” he shrugged casually.

you stepped forward and took your lunch from his hands. “thank you,” you whispered coming closer to wonwoo than what was probably appropriate. wonwoo’s hands brushed yours briefly, and he pulled away. “once again, apologies for interrupting,” he said calmly walking out the door, sending you a slight smile on the way. you paused momentarily but snapped out of it since you needed to finish this lecture. “okay, so where were we?” you asked the class. but when you looked out into the sea of young faces, there was a collective look of shock and bewilderment on their faces. “what? is there something on my face?” you joked.

“what was that?” daniel gasped, utterly confused.

“what was what?” you asked looking around the class, playing coy.

“mr. jeon basically invading your personal space!” mina yelped.

“i wouldn’t say that was necessarily invading my personal space….” you trailed off.

“he touched your hand!” lily exclaimed.

“i’m sure that was just an accident,” you insisted. you play with the ring on your finger as she says this. you were surprised none of them had pointed that out since you made an effort to speak with your hands today. “are you and mr. jeon together, miss ___?” daniel asked.

“that’s not an appropriate question to ask, daniel,” you said, but in reality, you were hoping they were going to guess it sooner than later; your hands were tired from motioning with them all day.

“oh come on… miss ___,” lily whined. but before you could banter with them further the bell for class change rang.

“oh, look at that, it seems as though it’s time for everyone to get going to the next class. wouldn’t want you to be late,” you ushered them and turned off the projector. there were some grumbles of discontent, but they left eventually.

“you saw that right?” mina grabbed lily’s arm as they left the classroom.

“noticed what?” lily asked.

“the ring!” daniel exclaimed. “come on… there’s no way you didn’t see it.” lily continued to look at them confused. “lily! she was waving her hand around like she wanted us to see it! no way the most delusional person here didn’t see it,” daniel groaned.

“i am not delusional,” lily huffed. “but… if there was a ring… maybe they are together…”

“well, luckily for us, we have mr. jeon’s class next,” mina smiled, practically grabbing lily’s hand.

“i’m giving you all time to work on the essay in class. please, take advantage of this time,” wonwoo announced to the class. he sat down and fidgeted with the bouquet he had under his desk. he was planning on taking you out to a surprise dinner tonight. after the school bell rang and you met him outside, he would bring out the flowers and ask you to dinner out in the parking lot. this would be his grand gesture to let the students know. plus, maybe he would be able to hold your hand too. another gesture to signal your relationship.

there was some quiet whispering going on, but that was expected and he paid no mind to it. but, suddenly, someone was standing, or multiple someones, at the foot of his desk. “lily, daniel, mina. what can i do for you three?” he asked looking up at the three students.

“are you and miss ___ together?” lily asked plainly. wonwoo swallowed nervously. though the two of you planned to tell the students, he was so used to keeping your relationship secret from the students he froze. “uh - what? where have you gotten that idea?” he cleared his throat.

“well, you two aren’t exactly inconspicuous,” daniel said. wonwoo tried to hide his shock. he thought the two of you did quite well hiding it up until today. the whole “forgetting your lunch” thing was staged by him, but before he thought he was laying low. he was honestly torn if this is how he wanted to tell his students.

it wasn’t.

so his brain went into autopilot. “lily, i thought i told you not to pry into personal matters? miss ___ and i have a close partnership as the youngest faculty members at this school. however, i do not want this to lead any misunderstandings among students,” he said in the best authoritative voice he could muster through his shock.

they looked guilty and a bit dejected. “sorry, mr. jeon. we won’t ask again,” mina apologized first. daniel and lily followed suit. “please get back to your work,” he said. they nodded and headed back to work.

“maybe he was lying,” daniel said. mina scowled at him. “i did not like getting told off by him,” mina grumbled. “i didn’t know he was gonna be like that.” lily opened her locker and grabbed the books she needed for homework. “whatever, guys. i’ll just give up all hope on this,” lily sighed. “it’s not worth thinking about.”

they exited the school with their bags. then they see a familiar figure stroll into the faculty section of the parking lot. “wait… was that mr. jeon… with flowers?” mina asked, pointing in the direction of him. he was carrying a bouquet and a smile. he tapped the shoulder of someone. she turned around. “miss ___?” mina gasped as she watched the scene unfold. mr. jeon handed miss ___ the flowers. they hugged and she kissed his cheek. “what? i thought he said they weren’t like that?” lily exclaimed.

“he must have lied,” daniel shrugged.

“why are you so casual about this?” mina elbowed him.

“well, like i told mr. jeon, they’re so obvious,” daniel smiled smugly.

“wonwoo…” you giggled as you took the flowers he handed to you.

“so dinner at 7 at that new restaurant,” he smiled, grabbing your hand. you smiled and kissed his cheek. you glanced over at the car loop where you saw some familiar young faces. “so, this was your grand gesture,” you smiled.

“well, yeah,” he blushed. “but, i am also holding your hand like we discussed this morning.” you laughed and nodded. he indeed was holding your hand. “the grandest of gestures,” you kidded. he smiled and opened the car door for you. before you got in you turned and waved at the three faces watching after you, ring glinting in the afternoon light. wonwoo turned to see who you were waving at. he shot them a wink and climbed into the driver’s seat. “i love you,” he said smiling.“i love you more.” you said smiling grabbing his hand.

“impossible.”

minli | so thanks for reading! lightly proofread! i'm on spring break so that's why i go around to getting this out! thanks for you guys who stuck around :) i went through the people who asked for a part 2 a long time ago and tagging you all even if you don't remember the og fic.... taglist: @a-wandering-stay @cinnamoroxie @wonwoosthetic

@skz-tua-txt-storytimes @ellelabelle @minghaossv @gie-gie-gie-gie @tootheiass @stendy4life

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mrsrookhunt · 9 months

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hi, hi! could I ask for pt 2 of the twst "what to expect when your lab experiment drinks formula," I just thought it was rlly cute!☺ you can do any sort of characters, I don't mind!

What to Expect When your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula Pt. 2

Hihi! Actually, I wrote that scenario for all the characters in twst I'm writing for right now (I'm new to the fandom), so I've gone ahead and made this into a followup on how they're doing as parents, hope you don't mind! Thanks the ask!

Warnings: Mild Chap 7 spoiler (Lilia), Rook & Floyd want so many kids your house is going to look like the 100 baby sims challenge.

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Part one! Rook Hunt! Part Two (here), Part Three!

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Malleus Draconia

Malleus is running wild with the new heir. As much as he loves you, so much of his time is occupied by playing with his baby that you don't even see him around as often as you used to.

Your new baby is named Ormr, an ancient name directly meaning 'dragon'. Malleus pouted for a bit that it didn't start with 'Mal' but you assured him that it could be a great fresh start before the Draconia family ran out of names.

While you were still a bit disoriented by the strange circumstances, you were adjusting just fine to being a parent. Your little one kept you on your toes, breathing fire onto your homework when you weren't giving them enough attention and flying away with your food when Malleus taught them how to fly short distances.

Get out the broom. There's a dragon baby with a pb&j on the ceiling.

Malleus' love of your child surprised you a bit. Though you had known that he had technically set up the entire creation of the child, you never expected for Malleus to take so strongly to the little dragon fae.

To be fair, the entirety of Briar Valley seemed to rejoice at the news of your little one, so you supposed that your child was more important than it would be to a normal family. This was the continuation of his bloodline, without posing any risk of losing you, his favorite Child of man.

It was perfect, a blissful life together.

Malleus is constantly supportive of you and works hard to be both a father and a partner. He never fails to make your family feel loved and connected, even in trying times.

Rook Hunt

Rook's baby is... Rook's baby.

The little creature is mischievous, even for its young age.

It may not be able to crawl, but provided anything of importance is in its general vicinity, it will be swiped, hidden, or destroyed with an innocent giggle.

Rook manages the child much better than you. Although you love your child to death, they seem to have inherited Rook's predatory mind in their entirety, and it makes Rook far more equipped to handle the baby's demeanor.

When you look away, you'll most certainly be hit with the first thing in reach of your little one. You blame Rook for this, who reveled in showing them documentaries on hunting through the ages from birth.

Soon, it's more complex weapons. Sharp rocks from your trip outside to play have somehow become entrapped in a very deliberately tangled slinky and thrown at the back of your head.

You know it's all in good fun between Rook & your little one, but your baby will be as skilled a hunter as Rook someday. He was not wrong to call your child his little hunter from the moment it fell into your arms.

Rook wants a large family, so you'd better be prepared for lots of little predators running around the house. Good luck trying to keep them from attempting to murder each other.

Extra: Rook is the type to remember that recipe to a tee. If you so much as mention having another child, ten more are going to show up the next day. Honestly he's waiting for you to slip up and mention it. He's absolutely in love with your family, and would be overjoyed to expand it. Best of luck to you.

Floyd Leech

As soon as you were asleep that night, little child snug in a makeshift bassinet next to you, Floyd was already sneaking out to create more children.

You woke up to six more on the bed with you, one of which woke you up directly by biting you for attention.

Overall you've had much trouble managing all the little literal ankle biters. If it weren't for the liberal help from Jade, Grim and Ace, you would not be able to manage all seven.

However, this does not stop you from loving them entirely. The babies love you to death, and you're extremely bonded to them as well. When you and Floyd fight, there's suddenly seven growling creatures lined up behind you, at the ready to attack.

Despite being 110% like Floyd, they are very certain in their favoritism. Two of your children refuse to have him nearby at all.

He claims it breaks his heart, but you catch him praising your little ones with frozen grapes and soda to reinforce their bond with you.

Definitely not what a baby should be fed but when you said they couldn't eat seafood he switched gears to 'land food', and would take no further criticisms.

The best times are cuddle nights. Twice a week, all of you cuddle up in your Ramshackle dorm room and cozy up to a movie and snacks. This continues until well into their childhoods let's be honest. It becomes a Leech family tradition.

Sebek Zigvolt

"Human! Get it! GET IT!!!"

Your baby is very adventurous.... or something close to it.

Always tumbling off furniture and rolling off changing tables, or falling down for some reason or other.

You can have ten sets of eyes on this child and it does not matter, this baby will stubbornly look into your eyes and throw itself off the couch.

There's so much chaos, constantly, when it comes to little baby Zigvolt.

Sebek's excellent training is the only reason that your child has not been hospitalized for concussions.

But his excellent training has not saved him from the baby's love of biting their father. So, so many times. Every time Sebek catches it.

Chomp.

Every time he bathes it.

Chomp.

Everytime he changes a diaper.

Chomp.

Sebek is covered in tiny little baby bites.

But oh, how your baby adores you. In between bouts of defiance and finger-snacking moods, your baby loves to lie in your arms and cuddle.

It's arguably the most comfortable time you get with Sebek and your baby.

And I do mean arguably, because Sebek swears up and down that the baby is happiest in the presence of Malleus, and it's a hill he's willing to die on. But you know he really just wants an excuse to show off your baby to Silver.

Silver is not impressed.

Your baby is the very definition of a headache to Sebek. They cry everytime they see Malleus, they hate any sort of regimen, they love to play and play and... play more. All day long. No work or training to be seen here, baby Zigvolt will NOT be having it unless you want 4 hours of ear-splitting tantrums. And the baby still won't do the work when they're done.

But still, you see Sebek in every aspect of your baby. The strength, the way your child loves you unconditionally, but treats everyone else cautiously, and overall, the refusal to do anything that doesn't align with their little baby whims.

You've lovingly termed your baby 'Stubborn Ziggy the Second'. Sebek is not a fan, but he allowed it after you let go of 'Swamp dog & Swamp puppy'.

Lilia Vanrouge

screaming.

And more screaming.

It is not the baby. It is you trying to find the baby.

"OH MY GOD I LOST IT, I LOST OUR BABY OH MY GOD---"

And then--

"Weh!" The baby pops its head out of a cabinet with its hands up the way Lilia does to scare them.

The baby giggles and coos at its own joke, making grabby hands while it waits for you to come get it.

You're just dumbfounded. You're going to have to scold Lilia, because now your little one is picking up on yet another one of his pranks.

Your baby is a lot like you, with one exception-- your baby is so playful and teasing that it honestly gives The Great Lilia Himself a run for his money.

Last week, you were frantically searching for an expensive piece of jewelry, when it dropped down on your head from the spot where little baby Vanrouge was apparently levitating it from.

Oh yes, your child's magic is coming in strong. Though Lilia's is fading, you tease that perhaps the little one is just absorbing it from him outright, showing him videos of your child's most recent magical displays of strength.

Your family bonds through jokes and playful faces, entirely. Lilia is probably a candidate for The Worst Parent on Earth, so you do most of the housework. It's not like Lilia's never offered, it's that you promised Silver not to let Lilia traumatize his little sibling. All of your best moments are spent by making space in your schedule for your family time.

Lil Vanrouge needs all your love, and Lilia Vanrouge does too. It's a fine balance between upsetting either of them, though dealing with hours of screaming and petty annoyance is not a hard decision.

Just make sure both are getting enough cuddles, and maybe don't judge growing-up lil Vanrouge when they decide they love gaming...

Azul Ashengrotto

Don't forget about Azul, please.

Your baby has the chubbiest cheeks and the cutest smile, but is it as cute as Azul? Cuter, probably. But don't tell him that.

Azul loves your child with all his heart, but he's a bit miffed that it requires so much of your love and attention.

You and baby Ashengrotto are very bonded, so it's rare to see you apart for a moment. And in that moment... Azul is putting on Full-Drama Mode. Cuddles, cuddles. More cuddles. Give him a kiss. Could you please take a bath with him? He's just so tired, he doesn't think he can take a bath by himself. Would you mind giving him a massage? You're too tired? That's ok, you scratch his back and he'll scratch yours. He's not too tired after all. He'll give you a massage.

Your little one is so much like their father, wanting all the attention and love in the world, but getting the priority treatment. Little baby Ashengrotto is Octavinelle's favorite thing ever. Everyone just wants to love on them and see their cuteness.

Azul was going to charge people to see them until you put your foot down and said no.

Azul knows how precious his child is. Secretly, he does want another. Two, just for a healthy statistical number's sake. But he won't tell you that. He's trying to come to terms with the shift in attention with one tiny octomer right now, maybe waiting a couple of years would be more optimal. He will never admit that he's jealous of your child, but claims that he's 'working through his issues when you bring it up.

But Azul will always prioritize his baby as well, even if unintentionally. In the end, the wellbeing of his family comes first and foremost.

And maybe showing off mini-mer to the Mostro lounge staff.

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csuitebitches · 5 months

Text

2024 Planning

I started planning for 2024 today. I’ve learned a lot this year, made mistakes, had some successes and now it’s time to take all my learnings, good or bad, and go to the next level.

I prefer starting next year’s routine from 2023’s November and December so that by the time January rolls around, I’m settled into the routine. If there’s any revisions necessary, I can do them without starting my new year on the wrong foot.

I maintain my goals on mostly short and medium term basis. This includes daily, weekly and quarterly planning (I don’t do monthly because it doesn’t work for me).

This may seem complicated (actually, it looks more complicated than it is but it’s just what helps me) but let me show you how exactly I do things.

I keep two diaries. One for daily and weekly and one for quarterly. I have a habit tracker on my phone for my daily non-Negotiables (exercise, meditation, reading and language).

The quarterly diary is my big big diary. Every quarter, it lists out all the big plans, what i want to do and who i want to be. It’s all the messy thoughts I have, all my dreams, my weaknesses, my strengths, etc etc. The only “practical” part of the diary is that there is one general plan made at the end of my mad scribbling. It has the general idea, feedback I’ve received from other people and compilation of all the advice I’ve gotten from my mentors.

2. The daily - weekly diary breaks the plan into manageable bits. I write out the week’s plan (who do i need to meet, who do i need to follow up with, any major presentation coming up, any assignment, what am i reading this week) and write a one sentence daily update on it.

I can’t use a habit tracker for this because i’m not tracking meditation or exercise on here. I’m tracking my career goals, my ambitious goals, into smaller goals. A habit tracker wouldnt cut it because I would have to elaborate more on certain things.

For example:

“20-27th Nov: Weekly list

budget presentation on Monday

1 event to attend on Tuesday. Topic: XYZ

Reading: the inheritors

reach out to mentor, schedule a meeting

7 language essays and 7 videos

Monday, 20th Nov.

work presentation: complete.

Feedback received: i need to work on XYZ.

points they raised that didnt cross my mind: XYZ

follow ups required and if yes, with who: XYZ

reading: complete. Interesting point they brought up: XYZ

essay for the day: complete.

Video complete:

Tuesday, 21st Nov

mentor meeting scheduled

event went well. Met: A, B, C who work in XYZ companies. Follow up with them next week for coffee/ drinks.

essay: complete

video: complete”

Having two diaries helps me because i can find my bigger goals without having to go through the daily entry mess. I like having the two separate.

Nov ‘23 + Dec ‘23 + Q1 2024’s goals include:

Social (meeting new people, maintaining networks)

Intellectual (biographies, documentaries, industry reports)

Personal (soft skills, language studies)

Work (presentations, courses, conferences)

A major change I’ve making this year is actively working on every single weakness I have that I know is a potential strength. I’m ignoring weaknesses that I know are 100% weaknesses like coding because there’s just no way I can sit in front of a computer and learn all that, it’s absolutely not my cup of tea and does not make me happy.

I made a list of every single weakness i have and I’m embarrassed about and ashamed of. 2024 is the year of NO shame. I’m not letting my intrusive thoughts win.

Next to each weakness I wrote out a potential solution.

Ex: not picking up the language i’m studying as fast as i want to -> write 1 short essay and a 1-2 minute video of me talking about anything in that language every single day

I’m not allowing any unnecessary negative self doubt or self talk happen. Constructive criticism is one thing, being a bitch to yourself is another. I plan to learn a lot next year.

I’ve created a manageable exposure therapy plan for myself - I aim to meet 3 new people every month and follow up with 5 new connections every month, whether it’s over chat or irl.

I’ve made a list of business biographies I’m going to read. This year I reached my reading target earlier than anticipated which I’m very happy about. Next year I’m focusing on books that are solely about business, technology and psychology.

#powerful woman #c suite #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #getting your life together #balance #2024 planning #planning my year #Goals #goal setting #how to plan #diary #journal

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wongyuuu · 9 months

Text

Willow | 02

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 5.2k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

Seungcheol functioned like clockwork.

Every day he woke up at the exact same time, his alarm was obnoxiously loud — especially considering how much of a light sleeper he was —, showered, cocked the same breakfast, and left the apartment precisely at 7:45.

You don’t remember him being that punctual but your best guess was that grown-up Seungcheol took his life and responsibilities much more seriously than teenage him. And he probably had a lot on his plate too. He was set to take over the firm once his dad retired, something that wouldn’t happen any time soon, but it always felt like something he was being prepared for it.

And being honest, you couldn’t say that you knew this version of Seungcheol, not really. He was hot and cold with you, mostly cold, so it was hard to know where you stood in your relationship with him.

Truth was, that had a lot to do with you as well. You weren’t trying to make things easier for the two of you, if anything it felt like you were trying your best to make it as hard as possible — even if that wasn’t your intention at all.

While your husband was always perfectly on time, you were always running around late for every single appointment you could ever make. People from work already knew that if there was a student scheduled for 10:00h, you’d probably get there a little later. It really wasn’t on purpose, you tried your best to be on time, even tried to follow along with Seungcheol’s agenda. But it never worked out. So instead of being on time and having everything ready, all it did was make you nervous and even more late.

You also didn’t follow a schedule for your day. Every day, on your way home, you made a little detour, never failing in finding a new place to go or a different restaurant to try.

At the end of the day, you and Seungcheol lived separate lives, barely talking to each other, or even acknowledging each other. Most of it was just niceties because both of you felt the need to do so. It would have felt even more awkward to walk past each other in the hallway and don’t even say good morning. Anyone who looked at the two of you would think that you were just roommates, not actually married. Hell, not even friends.

If anything, the house arrangement contract you wrote made things even worse — if that was even possible.

After signing it, with a look of complete disbelief on his face, Seungcheol went to his room. His words “my own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying that I should date other women” still rang in your head. You didn’t mean for it to sound like that, you didn’t want to push him to do anything at all. Your only thought was that since the marriage was fake, there was no love between you, there was no reason for you to be stuck to each other and live completely without happiness.

There wasn’t anything either of you could do in that regard, there was no way of canceling or ending the marriage, so all you wanted to do was give him a way to find something that could bring him a little bit of joy. If said joy came in the shape of another woman, then so be it.

After that, you never talked again. And he barely showed any emotion at all around you, no reaction. He didn’t complain or seemed fazed when you almost let the dirty water you used to clean your brushes fall on his desk and ruin, well, everything. He still followed the rules you created, almost religiously. Whenever he cooked, he made enough for you, if he was the one doing laundry he was careful not to damage any of your clothes.

Living like that felt oddly lonely.

You were used to being by yourself, having your own space. The last time you shared an apartment with someone, or more specifically, a room, was when you were still in college with Yeda. But the thought of living with someone else but never actually seeing them…

You thought that once you were married you would have someone to share your life with, even if that someone turned out to be Seungcheol. Naively, you figured that all of those years of your childhood spent together — even if those were also forced on both of you —, would play a part in making sure that cohabitation was a possibility.

We could still try to be friends, was what you told yourself.

Because your husband wasn't all that bad, to begin with. You might not see eye to eye on many things but you knew that he was a good person. You had hoped that, maybe, living in the same place, seeing each other every day, would change something about your relationship with him. And in a way, it did. It just wasn't what you expected. Instead of growing closer, you couldn’t be further apart.

You glanced at your phone again, the bright numbers seemed to be mocking you.

It was past 3 am and there was still no sign of Seungcheol. When 9 pm rolled around you assumed he had stayed at the office a little bit longer, finishing up whatever it was. Then 9 became midnight and staying in bed wasn’t something you could stand anymore so you moved to the living room, a book and a blanket in hand. But reading too was hard, the words were all floating around in your mind and none of it actually made any sense. Your mind was too focused on the fact that Seungcheol wasn't home yet to focus on the story.

Another hour went by and there was still no sign of him. The world outside the apartment was quiet and no car could be heard on the street.

The truth was that you were worried about him. There were little bells inside your mind telling you that something must have happened to him because that just wasn’t Seungcheol. It wasn’t him when he was young and it also wasn’t him as an adult. He wasn’t the kind of person who would disappear without telling anyone, so you were sure that there was someone who knew where he was.

The most obvious choice would be to call him and it would have been a great plan if you had his number at all.

The realization that you knew nothing at all about your husband made a sickening feeling slowly spread through your body.

It was so stupid to not have his number and it made absolutely no sense because he was your husband. Even if you were a fake wife, shouldn’t you at least be able to communicate with him if needed? Sometimes people have emergencies that couldn’t wait for their significant other to get home — or in your case never get home at all.

Option number two was to go through the things in his office. He should have at least a business card or something, anything at all, with a phone number. You thought about calling your parents or even his parents. How would you explain that even though you kept telling them that everything was fine, that things were finally falling into place, you didn’t have your husband's number? And never mind knowing someone who worked with him. Seokmin, what that his name? Seokmin probably knew where Seungcheol was but then again, there was no way to reach him either.

You stood up to cross the room, your blanket and book both forgotten on the couch when you heard the sound of keys being put in the lock and a second later the door was pushed open.

Seungcheol stood precariously on his legs, an arm over Seokmin’s shoulders, while the younger one tried his best to stop his friend from falling face-first on the floor.

“Cheol” you breathed in relief and rushed towards him, your hands reached for his cheeks, forcing him to look at you “Cheol…”

He opened his eyes for a second and a drunken smile, or at least an attempt at a smile.

“Ah, wife! Precisely who I wanted to see” his words were slurred, almost in sync with his body as it swayed from side to side.

Seungcheol stepped away from Seokmin and dropped all of his weight onto you. Your arms immediately circled his waist as you bent your knees a little, trying to hold him up.

"Sorry," Seokmin said as he tried to pull Seungcheol from you "I've never seen him get this drunk before, I didn't think it possible"

Neither did you, but then again there was a lot about Seungcheol that you didn't know.

"It's fine" you moved your feet back until you felt the couch behind your knees and with Seokmin's help you were able to get Seungcheol to sit "Thank you for bringing him home"

Seokmin smiled at you, tightly. He wanted to say more but he knew that if he did he would be butting in your relationship with Seungcheol and his friend would probably give him hell for it. Drunk Seungcheol was a problem — in the form of a cute lovesick oversized puppy, as he has recently discovered —, but sober Seungcheol would bite his head off without as much as a warning.

"I should have brought him home earlier, before he drank himself stupid"

You shook your head and pushed the hair out of Seungcheol’s forehead. You couldn't even bring yourself to be mad at him, not really. Before he got home you felt this pain in your stomach, telling you that there was something incredibly wrong, that he was in some kind of trouble. But the only real trouble was the fact he had, as Seokmin said, drank himself stupid.

"Honestly, it's okay. I'm just glad he's home safe. Again, thank you for that"

"I wish I could say it was no trouble" he laughed lightly "Do you need help with anything?"

You shook your head.

"I got it from here"

Seokmin opened the door and let himself out. He stopped for a second as if remembering something and reached for the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a business card. He didn't say anything as put it by your keyes.

You realized then that he knew. Seokmin knew about your relationship with Seungcheol, or lack of it. He just smiled and closed the door. You stayed frozen in place, looking at the door, as if somehow it would grant you answers.

Though you had told Yeda the true nature of your marriage, you never expected Seungcheol to do the same and to Seokmin, of all people. Not that you really knew him but just based on his interaction with Seungcheol on your wedding day, Seokmin was the last person you would expect to know the truth.

"y/n," Seungcheol said and you turned to him, "I think I want to throw up"

His warning was almost too late, there was no time to get him to the bathroom or for you to get him a bucket, but just enough for him to grab on the flower vase in front of the couch. You turned away from him, knowing that the smell of vomit wouldn't bother you, but seeing him throw up actually would.

"I'm really sorry"

It had been so long since you last heard him talk like that, almost childlike. The Seungcheol you knew liked to pose as this big, bad guy, but in reality, he was more of a softy that got things done. He could pout for days if he wanted.

Not only did he sound childlike, but he also looked like a child that messed up. His eyes were almost helpless as he looked at the floor, then his shoes, and finally his suit jacket.

"Don't worry about it" You reached a hand for him. His eyes focused on your hand, almost mesmerized, before his long fingers wrapped around yours "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed"

You helped him off his jacket and held both of his hands as he allowed you to pull him up from the couch. He pushed his shoes off once you reached the hall leading up to his room. This time, instead of putting all of his weight on you, Seungcheol used the wall to steady himself, still his arm was around your shoulder and he leaned a little towards you.

You wanted to ask him what happened, what made him want to drink so much. More than anything you wanted to know why he didn't warn you in advance.

Over the four months that you lived together, though there was no real interaction between the two of you, Seungcheol always found ways to talk to you. At first, there was a yellow post-it stuck to your door. They were simple notes. I made breakfast, or dinner with your parents tonight, I'll pick you up at 7. And sometimes they were more caring, those, you came to realize, were always blue. Do you still hate spinach? just in case, i didn't add any or let me know if there's anything you want to eat and even i canceled dinner tonight with my mom, you looked tired last night, you should rest this weekend.

He always made sure to tell you if he was going to be late, always. So not knowing where he was… you hated it.

Seungcheol didn't complain when you pushed him down on the mattress and undid his tie, later moving on to his shirt and then using it to clean his mouth

You didn't realize but Seungcheol's eyes were on you the entire time. Despite the alcohol, his mind was hyper-aware of your finger touching his skin, on the way you kept biting your lips as if doing your best to hold back from cussing him out.

"Can you shower on your own?" Seuncheol made a noise that you could only translate as a no "Do you want to brush your teeth?"

You probably already knew the answer to that too but still had to ask. His eyes were almost closed and he stayed sitting by some sort of miracle.

"I don't think I should stand up again" You nodded at him and turned around, you could at least get him to use some mouthwash before he fell asleep and maybe get him to drink a glass of water, but he held your hand and lightly pulled you back — not in a forcible way, just to get your attention "I don't like it when you make that face"

His voice was so quiet, barely above a whisper.

"It's the same face you did on our wedding day, when you walked down the aisle. You looked so pretty but sad, and angry too. Why were you so angry?"

You looked at his eyes for a second before looking away. They were all too demanding, wanting more than you were willing to give him. Your wedding day, believe it or not, wasn't a day you thought about too often and when you did think about it felt like years had gone by. The night you decided to suggest the contract was the one you thought of more often, with much more sadness.

"I wasn't angry"

Your voice was quiet as pulled the duvet for him to get under. In silence, Seungcheol removed his pants and laid down. He let go of your hand for only a second before holding it again.

"I was scared and worried, like today. You were gone for a really long time and I didn't know where you were. I couldn't even call you"

Having those thoughts around your mind was so different from actually saying them out loud, saying them to Seungcheol. If the night taught you one thing was that you didn't know anything at all about your husband. Everything you thought you knew was wrong. But if you could make a guess, judging by the way his eyes seemed to be a little more focused and his words a little less slurred, it was probably okay to say that he was sobering up. Maybe throwing up was all he needed.

"Our marriage is just so weird. My wife told me to sleep with other people" he laughed and pulled his hand away, closing his eyes "It's almost like we're friends with benefits but without the friendship part nor the benefits. We're just a piece of paper. If you think about it, we're nothing really"

Tomorrow, you suddenly promised yourself, tomorrow will be different and we will start this all over again.

The second he said yes to drinking with Seokmin, Seungcheol knew that he would regret it. The first time he went to a bar with the younger one, Seuncheol told him all about his fake marriage. So, of course, the second time couldn't be much different. He regretted it for more reasons than he cared to admit.

The entire night he behaved like a pubescent thirteen year old complaining about the fact that his crush didn't like him back. He was stupid enough to tell Seokmin all about the contract you came up with, to which his friend laughed hysterically. Because you must be the shitties husband in the history of the world if your wife has already given up on you like this.

And if that was what you thought of him, if you saw him as the worst husband in the history of the world, could he blame you? On your wedding way, that is known to be a day that everyone remembers, he was a complete idiot to you. No excuse he could ever come up with would be good enough. Because, truth be told, his behavior then had been inexcusable. In your shoes, he would have probably done much worse. You had shown him mercy.

And kept showing him mercy, even after months of him being silent and barely being in the apartment. He used work as an excuse often to get him out of situations in his daily life. He never thought that he would use it as a way to stay clear of you.

Because Seungcheol did work a lot but he also knew how to take time off. His job was important and his clients too were important, but he learned that he should have time to himself. and now that he was married, he needed to have time for you too. Even if it was just to stay home with you. He should have done that but instead, he found ways to be at the office until later than he usually did, took clients that he normally wouldn’t, and did the most stupid thing of all: went to a bar with Seokmin.

And the worse part of it all was that he remembered every single thing that he did the night before. He wished he was one of those people who get drunk and just forget about all the embarrassing things they did. But he wasn’t.

Seungcheol remembered being carried home by Seokmin, who again was having too much fun laughing at him, he remembers throwing up, the way you held on to him. But more than anything he remembers the way you said his name, Cheol, ever so quietly, when he walked in, the way your eyes searched his face as if looking for anything that could be wrong with him — other than being drunk.

He hated that he talked about being friends with you while he was drunk. Hated that you didn’t get to hear him while he was sober because he had prepared a whole speech for you, almost as if he was going to court and needed to plead his case.

He had plans to talk to you and maybe that was why he went out with Seokmin, to get his friend to push in the direction he wanted to go. Because truth be told, Seungcheol was scared.

For over ten years of his life, he knew that he would marry you. So had time to think about it, and ponder on every possibility that could happen. Because he had been in love with you for longer than that, but not once he was allowed to act on his feelings. At first, it was because of your brother, then because of himself, and then finally when you closed a door on his face — metaphorically speaking.

And when he finally had a chance to do so, he fucked up. There was no other way to say it. The two of you were already married, so what was the worst thing that could happen? For you to reject him? That was already happening.

He hated that he lost the chance to charm you from the get-go. And then again for months. He couldn’t miss the chance yet again.

Seungcheol pushed himself up on his elbows, tentatively opening his eyes. He expected the room to be filled with light but he was surprised to see that the only source of it came from the half opened door. He never closed his blinds before going to bed, he never felt the need to as he usually got up as soon as the sun was up, and he certainly hadn’t closed them the night before going to bed.

However, no amount of darkness could make him look past you, sleeping in a weird position in the armchair in front of his bed.

Seungcheol, who was usually a light sleeper, had no idea that you came into his room a couple of times during the night until you finally convinced yourself that it was okay for you to sleep in there because you were too afraid that we would throw up during the night; he had no idea that you got up in the middle of the night to pull the duvet over his body.

He knew nothing about those things, yet he felt overwhelmed at the sight of you.

For a second he wanted nothing more than to stay sitting there and just watch you. As creepy as it might be, it was the first time he felt like the two of you were more than just two people who shared the same apartment.

He could only hope that the night before had changed something for you too, because now there was no way he would just let things go back to how they were.

You were worried about Seuncheol. Had been the entire day. You woke up to the sound of the shower running and the sight of his empty bed in front of you. You left as soon as you woke up, deciding that he was probably way too hungover to want to talk to you then.

So instead of staying at home, wondering when it would be a good time talk to talk to him, you went out. There was nothing for you to do, no place to go and Yeda already had plans with her boyfriend so she couldn’t meet you.

You indulged yourself, going to the mall and getting a few new brushes and paint — not that you needed anything, but a mind filled with weird thoughts and a credit card with more limit than necessary could be the ruin of someone. But going there was somewhat of a bad idea, considering how many couples there were around.

All of them looked in love, happy to be around each other. You couldn’t help but wonder if it could be the same for you and Seungcheol. If you had talked to him in the months leading up to the wedding, would things be different now? If he hadn’t been a complete idiot on your wedding day, would things be different?

There were many answers to those questions, but none of them would matter. There was no way to go back to the past, to redo things. So all you had was the present, as it was, and a chance to change everything.

On your wedding day, your dad told you that he didn’t love your mother when they got married. He said that the love he felt for her was built over the years they stayed together. And you wanted to try that.

Because you never really believe in love at first sight, the idea of it was just too irrational for you. You believed that curiosity, attraction, lust, and enchantment could all be feelings that are awoken in someone at first sight. But love? That was a complicated feeling, that no three seconds look ever give you.

Because you wanted a love that was constantly warm. Too hot or too cold would burn you all the same. You didn’t want a relationship that was all over the place, with too many ups and downs.

And maybe, Seungcheol could that someone for you.

You had been standing in front of Seungcheol’s room for the past five minutes, building up the courage no knock on his door, had already raised your hand twice but was yet to finally do it. Seungcheol’s drunker words mirrored your thoughts, so you had to talk to him.

You took a deep breath before you forced your fingers to tap lightly against his door. You didn’t wait for his answer and stuck your head inside.

He was sitting on his bed, a book open over his chest while he scrolled through his phone. That was a scene you had seen many times while you were a teenager. It was easy to remember an 18-year-old Seungcheol lying on the couch, in that exact position.

“Seungcheol?” he looked at you surprised, he hadn’t heard you knock on his door “Come out, let’s have dinner”.

Without a word, Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. His surprised eyes were focused on the food on the table. He clearly remembered you telling him that you didn’t cook, your mom said the same thing too.

“You cooked?” he sounded a little nervous, as if unsure that he should be asking.

He looked cute, you decided then. There was this childish look in his eyes, half in wonder, half in expectancy.

Seungcheol was waiting for something to go wrong again. The last time you had gotten him dinner was the night everything went to shit. What if this time you told him that you wanted a divorce because of the shit he pulled the night before? He was honestly ready to beg you not to do that.

“No, I got it on the way home” you waved a hand and he laughed and you felt your cheeks get warm “Are you feeling better? I left before we could talk”

He smiled and nodded at you, looking at the food in front of him. There was nothing special about it, it was something that he could have cooked, but still, his heart did a little flip inside his chest.

“I’m sorry about last night. I swear I don’t drink like that all the time. Or at all” his own cheeks got hot “I’m sorry you had to clean up after me”

“It’s fine, really. Yeda was my roommate in college and I wish she would throw up in a vase. I think I cleaned that dorm more than anyone else that used it before or after us”

Yeda was a good friend, but she took the idea of being the life of the party a little too far sometimes. That alone was the reason you found yourself going back to your parents' house almost every weekend. You had convinced yourself that the two-hour drive was worth it, if it meant that you didn’t have to clean vomit again.

The two of you eat in silence as you tried to find a good way to start a conversation with him. Why was it so hard? You had no trouble talking with him when you were teenagers. Sure, there was a lot of bickering but that was still better than nothing at all.

“Is everything okay with you? You’re not eating” he said quietly. the food in front of him was almost gone while yours had barely been touched “You don’t like the food?”

You shook your head and set down your fork.

“I’m a little nervous, so it’s hard to eat” he didn’t need to ask to know what you were nervous about “Can we talk, please?”

In silence, the two of you put the dishes away and the food leftovers on the fridge. There was no way either of you would keep eating so it was better not to waste any time.

Seungcheol’s mind was running a thousand miles an hour. He was certain, 100%, that would you ask for a divorce. He knew that you couldn’t do it. The rational part of his brain told him that it wasn’t an option at all. But the irrational side? It didn’t care. All the worse possible scenarios were playing in his mind.

The first one, as he expected, would be for you to ask for a divorce; the second one would be you telling him that there was someone in your life, someone you were in love with.

That thought alone was enough to make his heart ache. You being in love with someone else was too much for him.

“Oh my god! Will you stop looking at me like that? I'm not going to bite your head off! I want to talk with my husband. Millions of people do that every day. I'm sure millions of people are probably doing that right now”

He smiled then. That was exactly how remembered you, that was the you he wanted to see the most on your wedding day, when he talked shit and you talked right back at him. Because there was no way that he would get to have the last word in a conversation like that.

And it was also the first time you addressed him as your husband, at least in front of him. The first time you said it out loud.

But in that moment you confused his feelings for fear when all that he felt was some sort of joy. How borderline pathetic was it that he felt happy over the simple fact that his wife acknowledged his existence?

“The things you said last night… I agree with them. Our marriage won't last very long, we won't last very long, if we continue this way. We will be broken beyond repair if we don't do something right now. So we have to change, we have to, at the very least, be friends but we will never get there if we keep going this way”

That wasn't exactly what you wanted to say but you hoped that Seungcheol would understand, wished that he would read into your sloppy and messy words. He was a lawyer, after all, it was what he did for a living. Right?

“Let's go out once a week then, sort of like a date? But not really” you shook your hand and covered your face, you felt like a teenager asking the guy you had a crush on a date “Just so we can get used to each other again, be friends and all that”

Seungcheol pressed his lips, trying his best to suppress the smiles that threatened to take over his entire face. With a short nod and shake of hands, you and Seungcheol settled down on another agreement.

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lacollectionneuse1967 · 5 months

Text

slip of the tongue part 4 - the last train home

Theseus Scamander x Reader

summary: you are kidnapped by grindelwald and theseus is stranded alone, unaware, at a train station--he's left to believe that you do not love him and you are left in enemy custody with no one coming to save you. the world always had a way of finding out what you loved and taking it from you. but you always found a way to hold onto hope until your hands were bloody, and you always hoped you'd still make the last train home...

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: hurt-comfort. romance.

warnings: none

part one / part two / part three / part four

author's note: yeah i wrote another long chapter again sorryyyyy! also there are no sexy times in this one haha.. this is actually the last part of this fic! taking requests for other theseus fics after. hope you enjoy :)

November, King's Cross Station

"Don't come. Don't come," Theseus thinks. "Be safe and happy and do not come."

And then, with a selfish tug of panic, he relinquishes the hideous truth of his desire:

"Come. Please come."

Theseus is standing at Platform 9 3/4, craning his neck over the crowds of wizards in their mismatched regalia, some in whimsical velvet robes and long caps and others in London business suits. The existence of the magical world alongside this one always did seem to him an impractical, impossible thing. Clunky and disjointed parts clacking together.

Until, until...

You. Muggle girl, born and bred, but you were the best wizard he'd ever met. The whole world seemed to make sense, suddenly, with your introduction into his life, these two worlds, magical and unmagical, were contained within your very existence, perfectly.

For the first time in his life, the thought of you brings him pain.

"She'll come," he thinks again. Banish the pain. Banish all that isn't useful or good.

The train whistle blows, his wristwatch reads 7:14. There's hardly anyone on the platform anymore.

He knew, knew that you wanted him too. Loved him. He saw it in your beautiful, hopeful face every time he reached out and touched you, you were so willing to fall into his touch, to surrender yourself. Sweet angel in his bed, in his arms.

"Last call!" A train attendant leans out from the car up ahead to shout it. Misery snakes around his heart. It's an icy and menacing revelation, that you might not choose to be with him.

He has never asked much of you, was always afraid to as your boss and your friend. But in these last days he's realized he's underestimated you, critically. He was so afraid of scaring you off he hadn't recognized that you don't scare easy.

He glances at the train attendant's cinched expression and then around the platform again, with blind urgency, eyes darting to every face, hardly seeing the strangers at all.

"I didn't push her too far this time. She'll come. She'll come."

"Last call!" The train attendant calls again, irritably. She's doing him a favor by waiting at all.

When Theseus steps up into the train car he politely apologizes to her. He even smiles charitably. She returns it with a blush, but rolls her eyes, taking his ticket.

He settles down and pulls out his book to read. Orders a coffee. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

Theseus has always been a sensible man, a capable one. He'll tell Newt you didn't want him. He'll put his energy and efforts into the resistance against Grindelwald. He looks fine, and maybe one day he will be.

He knows, logically, that you will be too. But he cannot deny that part of him was left on that platform tonight, and he cannot deny that it might remain there for good.

----

January

The woman lingers in the shop, her gaze flitting from shelf to shelf without much intention.

Theseus knows that he's ceased to be a novelty. Small as Hogsmeade was, he's been living there for a little over two months. The village's residents no longer looked to him or Newt, or Newt's "friends," with any curiosity or suspicion. If the woman is loitering around, it's because she wants to speak to him.

"Mrs. Beaumont," he inquires, trying to be as patient as he can, wiping his hands off on a rag before placing them flat on the counter. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh!" She seems relieved he's broached conversation, walking eagerly to the front counter that he's behind. "Mr. Scamander, I just wanted to say how very happy we are to have you and your brother here. Apart from the students, it always gives me hope, seeing young people and newcomers moving here."

He nods warmly, offers a closed-lip smile, but says nothing. He knows Mrs. Beaumont is one for long, chatty, pointless conversation. If he struck one up he'd never hear the end of it.

Theseus wants to close up for the evening. He wants to return to his living quarters at the inn. The potion shop was supposed to have closed ten minutes ago.

From Head Auror to humble assistant shopkeeper. If he thinks about that disparity too much he starts to go insane. Veritably insane. But he tries to rid himself of useless pride, something he'd been so occupied with before. Tries to remember what he's doing here, what's at stake. The position at the potion shop was just a cover. The evenings and long nights--that's when he, Dumbledore, and Newt did their real work.

Mrs. Beaumont shuffles out of the shop, made shy by her confession.

It's unseasonably warm for mid-January, the snow patchy, in wet-looking, thin sheets of ice spread over yellowing grass. Most days the sky is mercifully blue, bright and pale. But the sun still sets early, and it's a purple evening by the time Theseus locks up.

"Dammit," he curses softly. The key gets jammed in the lock sometimes. He's sure there's some way this could be made more efficient through magic.

The potion shop where he works is at the very edge of the village. The back window overlooks a white, roaring river that crumbles rockily down the hillside towards the Black Lake. Theseus starts his walk back towards the inn, back into town, unseeingly.

He knows the way so well by now that sometimes he just winds up in his room, with no memory of the walk at all.

Theseus looks forward to meeting up with his younger brother tonight.

Their relationship has improved, considerably, within the last two months. At nights when they have no other work to do and no Grindelwald-related assignments from Dumbledore, Theseus helps Newt on his book about magical beasts. Newt's notes were these soul-crushingly disorganized collections of writings and sketches, his findings all haphazardly piled together in a barely-bound journal. Theseus had been helping him turn his work into a more readable format, maybe something that could one day be published. Theseus had forgotten how much he enjoyed working with magical creatures in school, had forgotten that he was quite good at it too.

A loose paper currently adhering itself to his boot breaks him out of his reverie. It crunches when he tries to walk. He stops to kick it off, unsuccessfully. It looks quite old, half-torn and filthily brown, and a bit frozen as well. He leans down to pick it from his shoe with a grimace, lifting it up in curiosity.

WANTED.

The image of your face on the paper is enough to make him stop walking completely, stop breathing. At first he thinks he's hallucinating, he'd always known you'd come back to haunt him.

He's in an alleyway, one he doesn't take often, he doesn't know what compelled him to take this route today. He looks up in horror at the grey brick walls. They're plastered with the same, tattered poster of you, the one calling for your arrest, who knows how long they've been up.

WANTED: Have You Seen This Witch? Y/N Y/L/N.

Contact the Ministry of Magic immediately if you have any information concerning her whereabouts.

The posted reward money makes his stomach turn. But the sight of your face, that does something far worse to him.

The photo they used of you is from your first day at the Ministry. A cropped and zoomed-in image of you smiling, with eye-welling pride, in front of the huge wooden door to the Auror Office. In the image you move after smiling for the picture, you look around with an anxious, unsure sort of happiness. He draws his thumb over the dirty paper, the picture of your face.

This isn't possible. This can't be real.

He runs to the inn. His lungs are burning from the cold, dry air, but he doesn't stop. He pushes through the doors and Aberforth stands up from one of the tables by the bar, startled.

"What do you think you're-"

Theseus ignores him, breaking into the back room and falling to his knees before the fireplace. Wand shaking in his hand, he places a Floo Call to Thatcher Birchen. He's an Auror. More importantly, he was Theseus's friend from his Hufflepuff days. He wouldn't betray Theseus, not willingly.

When Thatcher's face materializes in the coals of the fireplace it looks unhappy to see him.

"Theseus, you shouldn't be calling me here. You didn't leave us on the best terms-"

"I know, I'm sorry. I wouldn't reach out if it wasn't an emergency."

"I'm not keen to talk to you regardless," Thatcher snaps. But he doesn't end the Floo Call.

Theseus realizes with a pang that Thatcher is scared. But Theseus doesn't understand why. He's diligently avoided all news press and talk about the Ministry these last two months, hoping to avoid you. No Ministry talk, no new editions of The Daily Prophet, just work with his hands. Moving a rag over the wooden counters at the potion shop, running the numbers and taking up accounting. Restocking boxes of ingredients.

This seems to him, now, to have been a great and careless mistake.

He thought you'd be running the Auror Office now, taking names, that Newt could reach out to you at a crucial, appropriate time.

"Did..." He has to ready himself to say your name aloud. "Thatcher, did something happen to Y/N? I saw a flyer today that said she's missing, that she is wanted under suspicion of espionage. Did something happen while she was working as an Auror?"

Theseus doesn't want to reveal too much. He's worried bringing you to the gala in Berlin and the Mausoleum in France that weekend in November might have already incriminated you.

"Theseus," Thatcher explains in a hushed tone. "Y/N Y/L/N never filled the post at all. I-I heard something about a potential offer the day you quit, but she disappeared that very night."

Theseus can hardly hear the rest of what Thatcher is saying, his whole body has gone numb.

"No one saw her in the weeks after her disappearance. It was assumed she'd taken up with Grindelwald. It had already been proven that she'd stolen some important documents from the Ministry Archives-"

"How?" Theseus's voice breaks on the word, miserably.

Thatcher sighs sympathetically.

"They found her wand and analyzed it. Found a spell that made copies of documents associated with the Ministry Archives. Hence the assumption, hence the wanted posters they put up a while ago..."

Theseus knows this could never be true. You and Grindelwald.

"What do you mean by 'found her wand''?" He asks with sudden, horrific clarity. You've been missing this whole time. Without a wand.

"That same night you resigned. They found it in front of Kings Cross Station."

The air is sapped from the room, Theseus unthinkingly flings some fresh coals onto the Floo Call with a limp palm, it collapses the shape of Thatcher's face and the call crumbles into nothing. He didn't say goodbye, he has to get some air.

He's so taken aback, reeling with nausea, that he has to brace himself against the wall with both hands. He keels over and dry heaves for a few seconds.

Two months you'd been missing.

And they'd found your wand at the station. You'd been coming, coming for him. This whole time he'd thought...

Newt bursts into the room, Aberforth is standing behind him looking uncertain, alert.

"Theseus! Aberforth told me--But... What's going on?!"

Theseus stands and closes the door so it's just the two of them. He's wearing the apathetic, half-conscious expression of a sleepwalker.

Newt takes a seat in the wooden chair.

"Newt... Grindelwald has her. He's had her this whole time. Since the day I quit the Ministry."

"I..." Newt's reaction doesn't satisfy Theseus. He looks troubled, but only vaguely.

"Newt," Theseus starts again with newfound frustration, passion. "While we were laying low, writing your book, restocking shelves, while we were brought up to the castle at Christmastime, Y/N has been in his custody! Tortured, starving, alone, I don't know. When I think about it, it kills me. I can't handle it-"

"We don't know if she's even alive, Theseus," Newt says this rationally, albeit unhappily. "Grindelwald doesn't keep prisoners unless they are valuable, important. She might be dead. When I heard she wasn't promoted to an Auror in November-"

"November?"

Cold rushes into Theseus's veins. There is no silence as deadly as the one that follows. He can feel his blood crystallize and crack, it’s too bodily a sensation to even call it shock. It’s betrayal.

“You knew?”

All those months collapse into nothing, they mean nothing to him.

For so long Newt kept his distance, felt misunderstood by Theseus and their mother for the path he chose in life. And yes, perhaps Theseus did misunderstand, did judge him for it, never took his career or his interest in magical beasts seriously. Maybe he was berating at times, suffocating with his good, brotherly intentions, and they’d drifted apart as adults.

But these last eight weeks in Hogsmeade they’d mended that, delicately, bruisingly, as one mends small bones, with small intrusions and concessions. Quiet conversations, sessions where Theseus helped him turn his work into something resembling a book, living together for the first time since they were children.

But that means nothing to Theseus now, nothing.

Newt doesn’t meet his eyes, the shame too heavy to lift his head. He’s sitting, hunched over in his chair like it is mounted to the floor.

“No,” Newt breathes out. “No, Theseus. I knew she never became Head Auror. I knew it went to… to someone else, but I didn’t know she was missing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?" His voice is torn-sounding. More hurt than enraged. "You didn’t even suspect—you didn’t reach out once?! I don’t believe you.”

“I swear it to you—“

“You should’ve told me.”

“You told me she didn’t love you!” Newt looks up at last, eyes wild with the panic of a cornered animal. “That she didn’t choose you! I-I don’t know what we could’ve done for her even if we did know…”

That there is a new wound, it blackens Theseus’s heart to hear it.

“I know Dumbledore knows where Grindelwald is. Christ, it was Y/N who stole those documents from the Ministry archives, those maps! We can go to her."

Newt just keeps shaking his head at the floor. It makes Theseus want to go up to him and shake him.

"If it were me, Newt, you would’ve come for me….”

“That’s different. We don’t do these sort of rescue missions, they’re too dangerous. Grindelwald, he—he’s untouchable.”

“You make me ashamed. You have always, always been braver than me. I didn’t realize it before, when we were kids, but you have. You were never a coward, Newt. Don’t let this fight change you.”

“Theseus, if we try to rescue her we will lose everything. I cannot risk this, cannot risk them.”

No one else is in the room but Theseus knows who he means. Jacob. Tina. And the other ragtag insurgents who have found their way into Newt’s crew over the last two months, who have decided to set aside their lives to fight.

Newt is staring at him pleadingly. Theseus feels he doesn’t recognize him anymore, feels as if he is standing in the room all alone. The space between them stretches and stretches until Theseus speaks again.

“No,” Theseus’s throat is dry, his voice subdued. He shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t ask you to… I’ll go alone.”

“Theseus, please don’t—“

He turns and leaves, cutting the conversation short.

This has never been negotiable. He let you slip away from him once, asked you to, encouraged you to in his last letter.

He would not let you be lost again.

———

You almost miss being tortured. Well, no, that isn't true.

But anything seems preferable to this ever-expanding, engulfing nothingness. After that first week of torture and questioning in which you revealed nothing they wanted to hear (thankful that Newt had kept you in the dark), none of Grindelwald's followers entered your cell. They don't even feed you often enough to keep you alive, but it seems more like carelessness, derision for your muggleborn blood status, than like they are trying to kill you.

If it weren't for Queenie you would've starved to death.

The first time Queenie slipped into your cell to sneak you some bread you tried to kill her. Her reading your thoughts and reciting them aloud, frantically, as if they would save her or prove her allyship, actually did save her. She stunned you into a dumbfounded stupor. You'd never met someone with her abilities before.

She was a funny woman. A devoted follower of Grindelwald who revealed little and had an oversensitive disposition, but you soon grew to appreciate her clandestine visits. She was kind. Remarkably so. Not only for feeding you, but for sitting and talking to you at all. That was its own kindness.

You thought you knew loneliness before, but this...

You knew your mind was a hostile place, even before you were brought here. But being left alone with yourself was the worst torture Grindelwald could've thought up.

You distract yourself with your less injurious thoughts, and avoid thoughts of Theseus at all costs.

Those are so painful you dare not think his name. In your mind, a blotted, blacked-out figure remains in his stead, a hole you've torn out yourself. In those first days, you'd repeated his name out loud, like a mantra, and thought of him liberally and without pause, even while you were being tortured.

"Theseus. Theseus. Theseus. Come save me. Please, come find me."

What waste. No one was coming. All you had ahead of you was this nothingness.

Sometimes, lights move outside the slit in your wall--too pathetic of an opening to be called a window. You can’t even see out of it, it just lets in cold air. Those shadows and flashes of light are the only color in your world. Sometimes when you look down at yourself, even your hands look black and white, made sepia and sickly gray.

The lights are sometimes orange, swooping lights, like arcs of fire being dropped overhead. Sometimes green, watery, glowing darkly like moonstone or bioluminescence. What you see aren't the spells themselves, but just the brilliance they cast into your room from the courtyard.

You don't know what Grindelwald is doing, what sort of spells are producing these bursting, sporadic hues.

You lie sideways on the floor and stare at them playing out against your wall, soft glowing spots sinking and rising.

They remind you of the magical lights, bobbing and hanging mid-air, that the Ministry decorated the Atrium ceiling with for the annual Christmas party. That was one year ago, though it feels like a past life, or a dream...

----

One Year Ago, December

You'd never heard the Atrium so full of people and life. It was usually bustling with conversation and noise, but this sort of noise, the happy noise of laughter and popping champagne bottles and high-spirited chatter, that was new.

You crossed your arms, glass in hand, watching contentedly from the sidelines. You never knew how to conduct yourself when Theseus was with Leta, you strangely felt as if you'd be caught doing something wrong. So you endeavored to avoid them both.

And besides, it had shocked you, the dull knife-turn of pain you felt watching him with her, talking to her in the corner at the beginning of the party.

You'd gone mute for the night, head swimming, gazing at the decorative lights floating overhead. All your thoughts felt buoyant, distant and hard to grasp, bobbing in and out. You knew you were spacing out, but you couldn't stop, maybe it was the mulled wine.

You had just turned down the promotion earlier that day.

"We're going to you directly to ask if you want it. We wanted to ask you first," the department head had said with great satisfaction, like he was delivering you a personal gift. "We know if it were up to Theseus he'd have you by his side 'till he retires!"

The last part was said with a half-joking laugh, but you'd tilted your head in confusion.

"Sorry, what?"

The man scoffed.

"He likes you very, very much, Y/N," the man said, like it was obvious. "He's made that explicitly clear to his colleagues who were hoping to share you as an assistant early on. It was his express wish that you work with him alone."

'He likes you very, very much.'

The idea of being liked, chosen by him... It was like a shooting star crashing over your head, light falling around you in bright shards, fatal, dazzling, undeserved.

You startled when you felt a hand on your forearm.

"Y/N," Theseus said, pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are."

He'd been looking for you. The thought made your heart soar, felt like being chosen all over again.

There was a wild merriment in his eyes. You couldn't tell if he was tipsy or just happy to see you.

"Here I am," you echoed in confirmation.

"Dance with me?" Before you could answer he cautiously pulled both of your hands, winding his fingers through yours and slowly guiding your arms in and out to the rhythm of the song.

You couldn't help but give into him, smile, laugh, you were never not going to say yes.

"Where's Leta?" You didn't want to ask, to ruin the moment, but it seemed right to.

Theseus shook his head and made a tutting, disappointed noise, twirling you around.

You dipped your head back and the lights whirled overhead, too radiant to be stars.

"She left. She doesn't like to dance. Doesn't like parties, actually."

As if afraid you were going to leave him, as if just to hear your laugh again, he spun you once more, more vigorously.

"Dance with me, Y/N," he bemoaned.

You laughed again and let yourself be spun and caught by his arms.

"Aren't I doing that now?"

"Good," he said resolutely, pleased. His smile was infectious. "Don't stop."

You felt like a girl again, weak in the limbs and susceptible to all sorts of hope, the dangerous kind. His hands in yours, the dazzled look in his eyes as they beheld you.. You regretted nothing.

"I won't leave until you tell me to, sir." You added in the honorific sarcastically, to keep the tone light, but the look on your face was terribly earnest. "I promise. You'll have to send me away."

----------

You don't remember falling asleep while looking at the lights on your wall. You didn't mean to think about the Christmas party, about him.

More often than not, more often than even the nightmares about rabid dogs and black water rising and the orphanage, you dream about the last train home. About the night your parents died.

Your family was poor. You did not hold this against them. You were too young to do anything but love your parents dearly, indiscriminately. You were barely seven years old, but you worked most days in the factories of East London and were happy to help, to not be burdensome like the hungry, needy children in story books.

That evening after work you'd been distracted, playing with a stray dog with some other children, and you missed the last train home. You resolved to sleep at the station, flat on the ground of the platform, and take the first train in the morning.

Your parents had gone out looking for you and were killed in a nondescript alleyway, found with their empty pockets turned-out. You dream about that night, that platform on the London Overground, you fear missing that train.

And, now, that is not the only missed train that haunts you.

Someone's here.

You wake, instantly. Your eyes open with a dispassionate immediacy.

There's no train. Fingers twitching, you instinctually reach for your wand for what must be the thousandth time, to protect yourself. Its absence feels full-circle almost.

You remember how you couldn't sleep your first year at Hogwarts, you'd stumble to class with tormented little dark circles under your eyes. You were too terrified to sleep, kept fearing you'd wake up and be back at the orphanage, that it would all be taken away from you if you didn't keep your eyes open.

Strangely, since you arrived in this cell, you haven't had any trouble sleeping at all. You sleep most of the day away curled up on the floor like a baby.

"Queenie," you mutter, sitting up falteringly. "Watching me sleep, are you?"

Queenie is standing with perfect posture in the corner of your cell, by the door, wringing her hands.

"I don't know how you sleep like that, on the floor..." She seems genuinely upset when you look up at her. “You must miss all your things. Your home. Your family… I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

You shake your head slowly.

“No. I was born with nothing, nothing. This room it feels…” You glance around, as if seeing it through Queenie’s eyes, seeing it for the very first time.

Metal chair with a missing leg in the corner. Filthy blanket on the floor. It’s more barren than awful, anyone could’ve lived here.

“It feels familiar to me," you admit.

Queenie says nothing, eyes wide. Since you met her here, she’s never seemed at ease, never seems to know what to say. For a moment the two of you just sit there in vacant silence, neither of you really present.

"You don't say his name anymore."

You don't even want to acknowledge the comment, you stare at the corner of the wall and hope what she's said will just go away if you don't.

"Theseus," she says explanatorily, as if you didn't understand her. The word is an affront from her mouth, worse than a slap, it makes your stomach twist. You feel exposed. "Do you...Do you feel betrayed by him? That he hasn't come..."

You close your eyes to gather your bearings.

"No," you say. "It would be very strange, almost a pleasure, if anyone in the world could betray me. Stab me in the back. I don't trust or know anyone well enough for that. I wish."

You're trying to sound self-deprecating, maybe even funny, but there's no energy behind it.

Queen looks at you sadly, sympathetically. Sometimes you forget about her ability to hear your thoughts. How futile it is to lie to her now. It embarrasses you, that you still care what she thinks. That you're still attempting to shirk off your pain for her sake.

“But Queenie,” you turn your head to her, defeat written all over your face. “Queenie, my God, what am I doing here?”

Your life is in tatters again and you don’t even know why. They tortured and questioned you when you first arrived, but you hadn't seen anyone but Queenie since.

“You’re a spy. You were working with the Scamanders,” she recites this as if reading off a rap sheet. It’s clear it’s what she’s been told, and is the flimsy, defensive logic she’s using to justify you being here.

“So why hasn’t he killed me already?” You can’t help how lifeless your voice sounds, almost bored.

Too much pain is a deadening, desensitizing thing. At some point, it ceases to be effective. Grindelwald’s followers have pushed you past that point.

Queenie’s expression shutters closed.

She always seems so conflicted, whether she’s helping you or following Grindelwald’s orders, there’s some secret turmoil eating her up inside.

“Please,” you say.

“Grindelwald thinks you could play an important part in his plans, in the Spring. It’s… Do you know The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus?”

You know it from school. You think back to the Lestrange Mausoleum, to what Newt told you.

“Prophecy 20? But Credence he can’t be-“

“No, Prophecy 21.”

You stare at her, not following.

When she speaks it’s as if her voice comes from behind her, not from her. The prophecy tumbles from her painted mouth and fills the desolate cell:

“Come bleeding springtime,

come new leaves, come bone:

A lone daughter destined,

Without bloodline or home,

To transform darkest skies,

With great power, unknown.”

She looks at you meaningfully.

You scoff.

“Kill me then. That I am living…. Your Grindelwald is a fool.”

Queenie bristles defensively. “No! H-He is a great man who-“

You wave her off, weakly.

“There are plenty of muggleborn witches without homes, Queenie. Just head to the orphanage Hogwarts plucked me from in North London and you’ll see. The prophecy is not about me. I’m nothing special. I’m nothing…”

You know your fatigue isn’t natural. Despite Queenie’s best efforts, you are malnourished. Made simple-minded and irritable because of it. Frail.

You don’t hide your spell of faintness as well as you hoped to. Your eyelids are low, sedated.

Ever the mother hen, Queenie rushes to your side, kneeling.

“Let me sneak in more food, honey. Just give me a moment, I can-“

“Wand,” you say, your voice battered and forceless. It’s a strain to lift your eyes to meet Queenie’s then, to open them. But you make a point to.

Your voice is feeble, but your eyes are challenging, fierce.

“Queenie, if you really want to help me, get me a wand.”

“Y-You’re too weak. Even if I could get one to you, it would be too difficult for you to escape, to fight them, there’s—“

Your laugh is so deranged sounding, so sharp and unhinged that it silences her, cuts through the empty room bright and blade-like.

“Queenie,” you sigh. “Why do all wizards talk like that? Magic is the easiest thing in the world. Besides, you haven’t seen me fight.”

-----

No one expects it.

You've been so docile and half-alive after being tortured, the guard who brought your meal is so confused he doesn't fight back at all, merely tumbles backwards with astonished, wide eyes until you're able to knock him unconscious.

When Queenie brought you the wand earlier that day you'd tried in vain to convince her to come along with you. To escape and return to her sister, Tina.

She hadn't even said no, she just said, "I'm sorry."

Your legs wobble with every hurried, barefoot step. God, you don't know when the last time you walked was, nevertheless ran. It doesn't help that the castle is foreign to you. Queenie's succinct directions did little to capture the sheer, gargantuan size of the building.

Turn left. Down the staircase. Turn right. There's a locked door at the end of the hall. There might be guards on the other side.

You recite the instructions again and again, more to stay sane than to memorize them.

You round a corner too fast and are met with three men, dressed in dark tailored-suits. You unleash three spells, one for each, quick, tearing through them before they can even turn. You don't breathe, you don't miss.

You feel sorry for it, but you can't afford to be delicate or careful or merciful. Every second you're here is a moment Grindelwald could realize what's going on and come kill you in a heartbeat.

Hearing the ruckus, another man comes flying down the main hall, snarling.

"Avada Kedavr-"

You spot the exit and don't stick around, ducking your head and tumbling out into the courtyard, twisting your ankle but not missing a beat.

You keep running forward, stumbling, half-delirious, out towards the main iron gate.

You're shocked to find yourself at the summit of some snowy mountain. The world is blindingly white. The building you've come from is some stony fortress, more grand than you'd imagined from the bleak confines of your cell.

The air is arid, thin and dry with brutal cold. It burns to breathe in. Cuts like sandpaper in your throat.

You have to get past the gate to surpass Grindelwald's anti-apparition charm.

Almost there, I'm almost-

With a jolt you turn around. You can feel him looking at you, feel the strength of his gaze with the same recognition of a prey animal realizing they're being watched, hunted.

Grindelwald.

From the high tower window his face has gone serene with fury. Almost blank. The look in his eyes is beyond angry, it is rage in its purest, most distilled form, he hardly moves.

You tear your gaze away and lurch your body through the front gate.

You don't know where you are, you thought about apparating to London, but that's the first place they'd go to find you again.

Then you think of Hogsmeade, but it fell under the same anti-apparition wards that guarded Hogwarts.

"Nearby, then." You direct your magic, channel and funnel it all in the direction of the place before the image of it is even fully formed in your mind. "Feldcroft."

In a cutting, dizzying whoosh you are spelled away.

Feldcroft was an inconsequential village of wizardfolk, small, rural, not too far afield of Hogwarts. You'd spent one summer holiday there rather than go back to the orphanage, after your first year.

You'd helped a farmer work his land during the long summer days in return for meals and lodging. You were twelve and it was the hottest summer of your life, you hadn't known Scotland could be so hot, but anything was better than going back where you came from, terrified you'd never find your way back.

Before you've even landed you realize your folly. You were too weakened by the torture and starvation, and too far away.

You hit the ground bone-breakingly hard, but you hardly notice that dull, throbbing pain over the sharper, louder pain of being cut to slithers. Your skin twists and tears away from itself, from your muscles, in spirals and stripes. You couldn't fully stick the landing, it's an imperfect apparition, and this is the consequence.

You cry out, a crumpled heap on the frozen ground, limbs twisted and bloody.

With a rapidly blotting vision you strain your neck upwards.

"Did I make it? Am I safe?"

You don't even recognize Feldcroft. Winter had stripped all the fields and mountains of life. Summer, your childhood there, it's all long gone.

Some prophetic witch destined for greatness.

You see the blurred legs of a man approaching. When he leans down to look at your face, your limbs twitch in agonizing protest, but you're too injured to move.

"Y/N?" He says.

You inhale sharply, in pained horror.

"Y/N, I didn't recognize you."

You still can't see very well, but the liquid panic in your veins dissipates at the sound of his voice. You know him.

You hadn't recognized him at first, but it was the farmer, Mr. Howell, from what must've been a decade ago. The old man who had taken you in that summer when you were twelve. You remember him being old then, but he looks impossibly older now, ancient, really.

You don't know what to do with the recognition, with this information, but it doesn't matter because you are bleeding out and, within seconds, you feel a sweet and pain-sapping unconsciousness take you.

----

When you wake your consciousness is a flimsy, fragile thing, like trying to float a feather in air. Your vision is black and brown around the edges.

You're in a bed and Mr. Howell is putting a kettle on. You feel worse than you ever did in captivity of Grindelwald, closer to death.

"It still looks the same," you say, rasping. "I didn't recognize the village, but this house..."

A swell of weakness overtakes you again and your vision almost blacks out completely before returning in a soft vignette.

You can see the farmer, Mr. Howell, staring at you from across the room, at your starved body, your bloodless face.

"What happened to you?" It's so direct a question it's almost startling, almost rude. But it's said with such genuine remorse and concern that your heart softens.

"I..." He licks his lips before starting again. "When I told Minerva I'd agree to take you in that summer... Well, I thought your life was so sad. It was sad you had no one to go home to for the holiday. That your life had been so hard, she told me, about the abuse... But you were so young, such a skinny, hopeful thing. So talented. And good. I was sure it had to get better."

You smile at him, it pains you to do so. The old-you would've bristled, pride scorched, at anyone pitying you. But now you can only smile.

"I always thought the same too, sir."

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" he asks earnestly. "If you are, you're always welcome back at the farm. You know that."

Your heart seizes, your eyes well. You haven't spoken to him since that summer when you were twelve, that September when you thanked him hurriedly and spirited off with badly concealed eagerness to rejoin your friends at Hogwarts, without a glance behind.

"Thank you. It's more than I deserve, but thank you... And, yes. I'm afraid I am in trouble. I've just been a prisoner of Gellert Grindelwald. I'm sorry, I should be leaving, he could come after me."

The man looks taken aback, but ignores your words and asks instead: "Oh, Y/N, you look so unwell. Should I call for someone up at Hogwarts? The hospital wing is obviously reserved for students, but I'm sure-"

"I believe I am going to faint now, I apologize." The words come out of your mouth in an embarrassed rush. The dark edges close in and swallow you up, life itself extinguishes like a candle.

------

Theseus towers over the students at Hogwarts, he tries his best to push his way through the crowded halls without trampling them.

"Professor Dumbledore!" He calls out, giving up. Getting the man's attention must be easier than reaching him at this point.

Dumbledore looks up, startled, from across the sea of black-robed students. He's standing in the doorframe to his classroom.

Theseus imagines how he looks in Dumbledore's eyes--helpless, drowned. Maybe insane.

When Dumbledore waves him over he continues to gently push his way forward.

"I love her, I love her," he's thinking with a plummeting urgency, each internal admission of "I love her" bringing him closer to tears.

"She's not dead. If she was I'd know. I'd feel it. I'd feel her leaving me for good."

"Theseus," Dumbledore shoos the remaining students out and shuts the thick wooden door once Theseus enters. "What is this about?"

Theseus swallows hard and holds Dumbledore's gaze, trying to effuse authority.

"I need you to tell me where Gellert Grindelwald is. Right now."

Dumbledore opens his mouth in a stunted exhale, at a loss for words.

"Pardon?"

"Y/N has been taken prisoner."

"So, what, you're going to charge in there, alone, against Gellert Grindelwald and who knows how many of his supporters?"

Theseus tries not to waver, but the panic is beginning to set in. What if Dumbledore denies him?

"If I have to," he says, purposefully.

Dumbledore walks over to his desk and sits on it, stunned.

"Theseus," he says. "I've known you since you were a boy. I-I'm sorry, but I hardly recognize you. Have you no appeal to reason?"

"None at all, sir."

Dumbledore laughs, and the sound confuses Theseus, upsets him.

"You love her? God, you really do..."

Theseus is willing to destroy himself for it, for you.

"Help me. Tell me where to find her, or I'll find her on my own."

The heavy creaking sound of the door being pushed open causes Theseus to turn in agitation.

A woman in a nurse's uniform glides right past him and up to Dumbledore.

"Albus," she says in apparent distress. Theseus can't make out the rest.

After a moment of the woman's whispering, Dumbledore turns to Theseus, looking at him in sharp alarm.

"What is it?" Theseus says, unkindly. He doesn't care. He just wants to know where you are.

"Fate," answers Dumbledore. The line of his mouth is grave but his eyes are twinkling. "We've had a request from a farmer out in Feldcroft. He says a former student has apparated onto his land and is in dire need of medical care, and protection. That there could be followers of Grindelwald's coming after her shortly."

Theseus doesn't dare breathe. Doesn't let himself feel the acute bite of hope nipping at his heels, at his heart.

"He says her name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N."

--------

"Wake up, Y/N."

There are hands on your shoulders. Someone is touching you. Someone is-

Your whole body jerks awake. Your limbs are lashing out, fighting, before your eyes are even open.

"Get off me! Don't fucking touch me! Don't-"

"Y/N! Y/N, it's Theseus," Dumbledore is shouting. "It's okay you're safe-"

"What's happened to her?!"

Even his name didn't stall you, but the sound of his voice, pure and surreal, reaches you through the din of panic roaring in your ears. You exhale.

Once you've stopped kicking and struggling, the room comes into vision.

There are four people surrounding your bed. You're in Mr. Howell's house, of course, of course you are...

There in front of you are Professor Dumbledore, an older woman in a Hogwarts nurse uniform, Mr. Howell, and, impossibly, Theseus Scamander.

Theseus is staring at you, wide-eyed, like he doesn't recognize you. A dot of blood marks his temple, you wonder if it was you who did that just now.

"What's happened to her?" He repeats, his voice cracks. "What--Who did this to her?"

"She's been tortured, Theseus. And starved, maybe worse," says Dumbledore in a clipped, hushed way. "Please, understand, and give her some time to-"

"You're real," your voice is so quiet, so full of wonder, but it captures his full attention.

Theseus is holding his breath in apprehension. You're still staring at him in horrific fascination.

"This isn't--This is real?"

Theseus comes forward and kneels beside the bed, reaches for your arm. You can hardly look at his face, it's so startlingly beautiful. Dark blue eyes. The curve of his lips. It's really him.

"Y/N." He retracts his hand when you flinch, involuntarily. "Y/N, I'm not going to hurt you. I swear, I'm not gonna hurt you..."

You remember that you secretly love when he talks to you like this, whispers like he would to an animal he's trying to soothe, or like he's trying not to wake you. He's speaking so delicately, but you can hear in his voice how his heart is crushed.

Everyone is staring down at you in the bed. You figure you've already been treated from the wet rag on your sweaty forehead and the way every second more and more sensation returns to your fingertips and toes. Your body itches and tingles with a crawling warmth that feels like fever where your flesh has begun to stitch itself back together--the nurse's work, no doubt.

With every breath you return more and more to yourself, the dulled sensations of the world come back in startling pinpricks of color and sound and vividness. The parts of your consciousness that make you you flood back into the frail animal of your body.

"Oh," you say, with a groan, pinching your eyes closed.

Theseus looks startled, turning from the nurse to you frantically.

"Y/N! Are you okay, what's-"

"Oh, Theseus!" You sigh at last, and he looks back to you, his brow still furrowed. You smile at him, not caring how wretched and sickly you look, you're just so happy to see him. "Theseus, you came! I love you, I love you, I love-"

He throws his arms around you, leaning over the bed.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you can't stop smiling.

He won't let go of you, so you don't realize he's crying until you feel his shoulders shaking, the gentle rocking of his frame.

"You're supposed to be the one who is good at being in control," you murmur fondly.

When he pulls away he's collected himself, sniffles once and then groans.

"Oh, God. For a second there I thought you didn't recognize me, that you were scared of me."

"Not of you," you shake your head. "Of...."

The reality of your situation settles like ash in your mouth.

"Albus," you say, turning to others. "We need to go now. I escaped as quickly as I could, but they could follow me here any second. Please."

Dumbledore nods, and then whispers something to the nurse.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. But I don't believe you'll be strong enough to stand. Not yet."

"I've got it," Theseus says cooly, before you can even respond.

"Too weak to stand," you want to snicker but can't summon the energy.

"I knew that was some bullshit prophecy," you mutter, lifting your arms to help Theseus, who is leaning by the bed to pick you up.

He stops. So does Dumbledore. They're both frowning.

"What?"

"Oh," you huff. "Grindelwald thinks Tycho Dodonus's twenty-first prophecy is about me. I'm supposed to be this great witch with the power to transform the world, didn't you know?"

There is a beat of shocked silence before Theseus begins to laugh, heartily so.

You scowl. "Why is that funny?!"

"It's not funny," He caresses your face affectionately with the back of his hand. "It's just that I knew it. I always knew you were destined for greatness. Of course there's a prophecy about you. Of course the world saw you coming..."

Your heart sputters dutifully, weakly. You're torn between leaning into the feeling of his hand on your face and turning away, protecting yourself from what you cannot have.

It still feels so ruined to you. You know he must be doing this out of pity. Out of guilt.

It had been more than two months since he asked you to come with him. Who knows what he's been doing, what he thought of you now...

Your eyes prick with tears at this realization.

You see him through the lens of the memory even as he stands before you. You remember shaking his hand on your first day at the Ministry, dancing with him under twirling lights at the Christmas party, his booming laugh, his gentle chuckle. The warm, growing feeling in your chest knowing you were the cause.

You remember laying naked with him in bed, his broad hands, the barely-there freckles at his temple, the light-colored hair trailing down from his navel, the way he held your legs up when he made love to you, when he was inside you, spreading them, always trying to get deeper, closer. It should be vulgar, the memory, but it doesn't feel that way to you. Every moment of it felt clean, bathed in light and goodness.

Your heart pounds heavily, pathetically. As he helps you up from the bed you have the sickening feeling that you are saying goodbye.

Your vision swoons, sways like an overhead light. Your legs tingle, half-numb.

"I-I can't stand," you whisper. In a swift motion Theseus scoops you into his arms, bridal style.

He has to hold you sideways and duck his head to get through the narrow doorframe, he's so tall. You're asleep again, this time safe in his arms, before you're out of the village, before you can even tell Mr. Howell thank you.

Goodbye! You think. Goodbye...

------

You’re on a train again and Theseus is holding you. You hardly feel the rumble of the train car on the tracks, hardly feel anything at all but his arms around you.

“Where are we going?” You don’t even care, it’s almost perfunctory that you ask. But some distant part of your brain tells you that it does matter where you are, where you’re going in the world.

“London. You’re weak, we need to take you home.”

Home. You feel so little affection for your apartment that you’re barely able to make the connection.

“I don’t have a home.”

“We can go to mine. We can go anywhere you want.”

“I want to go…” You feel breathless, feeble. Delusional. “I want to pretend that we’re on a different train.”

“Hm?” Theseus strokes your shoulders, your back comfortingly. Since he met you, all he’s ever wanted to do was hug you, hold you. It’s as if he was meant to, how good it feels to be doing it now.

It's a terrible thing, how badly he wants to kiss you. But he's willing to wait.

“Can we pretend that I made it on time?" you say. "That I made it to the platform, got on the train that day in November and we’re in it now… Pretend that you’re still asking me to love you and that I said yes.”

He turns to you then, you’re still slouched in his arms. You’re looking up at him so brokenly, there’s hardly any of you left. No sign of that headstrong girl who withheld herself from him so vigorously, who built up walls around herself so high no one could hurt her again.

“Y/N…” The words have been stolen from him, his heart swiped from his chest at the sight of you, at the knowledge that any part of you believes that he might not want you anymore, might not feel the same.

“Y/N, will you love me?” His voice is a quiet, determined plea. “Will you say yes? I am asking you now. The offer still stands, it always will.”

It's Theseus, your handsome, wonderful Theseus, asking you this. He was the best man you knew, but, even if he wasn’t, you couldn't help but love him. It wasn't a choice for you anymore.

Your lip trembles, but you somehow manage to get the words out without whimpering, without collapsing into him outright.

“Yes,” you say. “Always.”

taglist: @karashaw99 @gracieroxzy @mystic-mara

#fantastic beasts #fbawtft #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander #theseus x reader #theseus #hp fanfic #hp fic

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likeadevils · 5 months

Text

Midnights Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Midnights in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing Midnights and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order, or this playlist of her entire discography. (warning: there is a very large chunk in the middle of Midnights that I have no information on (Maroon-Dear Reader. On the playlist not the album I have guesses for more than one song)).

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices

Renegade: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: “I wrote the music [for Renegade] at some point after we finished [evermore], and sent it to her, because she was inspired by a llot of the Big Red Machine stuff we were working on. And she had already sung on Birch, a song that hasn't come out yet but is one of the major ones on the record. And I think she wanted to write a song for Big Red Machine. She very much feels like part of this community to me. So I wrote Renegade, the music, and sent it to her. And not unlike a lot of the things we've done together, one day I woke up to a voice memo from her and she had written this incredible song about how anxiety and fear get in the way of loving or being loved. And she was clearly thinking about Big Red Machine. And then we recorded her vocals and everything the week of the Grammys, when I was there in LA, and it was really nice to have something to think about that wasn't related to the Grammys - just to make music because you feel like making it." (transcript from jaimie)

High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've: March 7-15, 2021 (Confirmed)

Aaron: [Would've Could've Should've], we wrote that song together, and recorded it while we were together in LA for the folklore Grammys. It goes back that far. And the same with High Infidelity. Those songs, we actually recorded in her house, the vocals, we recorded them then. And I just kept making music, and it was kind, after we had made folklore and evermore, I started to have ideas which I would share. And eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different. But High Infidelity, and Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve, and The Great War, and we made Hits Different with Jack and Taylor and I also, and it was great to be part of that record in that way. (transcript from @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes)

The Great War and Hits Different: between April-October 2021 (Speculation)

In the above quote talking about his songs on Midnights, Aaron says "Eventually, she obviously made most of Midnights with Jack, and it became something different," implying his stuff was written before the bulk of midnights in fall. He also says High Infidelity and Would've Could've Should've "[go] back that far," which implies they were some of the earliest stuff on Midnights, so it's safe to assume TGW and Hits Different come sometime afterwards.

Summer 2021: Jack has a session with Sounwave, Sam Dew, and Zoe Kravitz, where the instrumentals for Lavender Haze and likely Glitch are written

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: Before Antonoff began to work on Swift’s tenth album, he was cooking up tracks with Spears, Dew, and Zoë Kravitz [...] During a brainstorming session, the quartet put together a track that would eventually become “Lavender Haze.”

November 3 2021: It was announced that Joe has been cast in Stars at Noon, alongside Margaret Qualley, Jack Antonoff's then girlfriend now wife. Since Joe was parachuted into the film last minute, filming had already started, making it likely he left as soon as possible.

Taylor: We’d been toying with ideas and had written a few things we loved, but Midnights actually really coalesced and flowed out of us when our partners (both actors) did a film together in Panama. Jack and I found ourselves back in New York, alone, recording every night, staying up late and exploring old memories and midnights past.

November 8: Jack gets back from touring with Bleachers. Let the games begin.

Vigilante Shit: November 2021 (Speculation)

Vigilante Shit is the sole solo writing credit on the album, which implies it was written before her and Jack were holed up together 24/7. Also Scooter and his wife divorced in July. Beyond that there's no evidence this is early in the process, besides it making sense that Taylor wrote this alone, brought it to Jack, and then fell into a creative inferno.

Maroon, Anti-Hero, You're on Your Own Kid, Midnight Rain, Bejeweled, Labyrinth, Mastermind, Paris, and Dear Reader: November/December 2021 (Inferring)

I don't have enough info on the making of any of these songs to give them each their own little blurb, but if anything pops up I will update this post and reblog it letting y’all know.

Question..?: After November 21, 2021 (Inferring)

We know Rachel Antonoff, Dylan O'Brien, and Austin Swift were there the day they recorded it thanks to this behind the scenes footage of them recording the cheering vocals. Dylan was filming The Vanishings at Caddo Lake in Louisiana sometime between October 5 and November 20. I don't know exactly which dates he was filming-- he was in New York for All Too Well filming in late October and to attend the premiere on November 12, but since we know for sure he was in Louisiana on the 20th, I'm just gonna Occam's Razor it and say Question was written sometime after he got back from that.

You're Losing Me: December 5, 2021 (Confirmed)

December 17, 2021: Filming wraps on Stars at Noon, and with it the bulk of recording for Midnights.

Lavender Haze: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Lavender Haze, Snow on the Beach, and Karma are the only songs to have Henson Recording Studios credited (I can't find studio credits for the 3am tracks so there is possibly more on there). This could point to them all being recorded around the same time time, or it could be in reference to Jack and Sounwave's original recording sessions taking place at Hensen. I lean towards the former, since 1) it seems like the Winter 2021 sessions were mostly between Taylor and Jack, and the spring sessions have other collaborators, and 2) the tabloid rumors about Taylor and Joe getting engaged really started heating up in February 2022. On the other hand, Sounwave implies that there was a notable stretch of time between Lavender Haze and Karma, so I totally understand if you want to put it with the rest of the Winter 2021 sessions. Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: A few months [after Jack and Sounwave wrote the instrumentals], Antonoff reached out to Spears, Dew, and Kravitz to see if he could pitch [Lavender Haze] to Swift, who loved it immediately. She wrote lyrics inspired by a Mad Men scene, numerous tabloid rumors and online gossip about her relationship status, and “1950s expectations.” “When Jack brought us in the hear for the first time, all our mouths dropped. She took it to a whole new world and made it her own. She created different pockets we did not hear.”

Glitch: Early 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: "Glitch,” one of the bonus songs on the Midnights (3am) edition, was born from the same studio session as “Lavender Haze.” I don't know if this means the instrumentals to Lavender Haze and Glitch were done in the same session, Taylor wrote the lyrics in the same session, or both. For the same reason as Lavender Haze, I lean towards this coming later in the process, as well as Glitch mentioning being together for six years, and in November 2021 Taylor and Joe had been together for a little over 5 years. That being said, Taylor could've assume the album was going to come out in 2022, and that she would stay with Joe until then, and bump up that date a bit. It's still very up in the air.

February 5, 2022: Taylor is photographed leaving Jack's house holding a keyboard.

Sweet Nothing: Spring 2022 (Inferring)

Joe is a co-write on this, meaning they likely wrote it after he got back from filming. It also mentions their trip to Ireland in 2021 and refers to it as "last July", implying it was written in 2022. While I was writing this timeline Taylor liked this post on twitter, implying that at least the second verse is in reference to Paul and Linda McCartney. The quote is from his poem Blessed, which you can read in this interview (TWs for death and cancer)

Bigger Than The Whole Sky: March 2022 (Inferring)

Claire Winter, a close friend of Taylor's, posts on Instagram that she miscarried. (I toyed with whether or not to add this, but seeing as Claire Winter made the information public herself, I decided to put it in. If she ever takes that Instagram post down, let me know and I'll delete this part.)

Snow on the Beach: April 1, 2022 (Inferring)

On April 1, Lana Del Rey posts a video on Instagram of Jack in the studio with an unidentified female voice in the background. Two days later she posts this photo, which Taylor and Jack both include in posts about Midnights/Snow on the Beach. Lana: Well, first of all, I had no idea I was the only feature [on that song]. Had I known, I would have sung the entire second verse like she wanted. My job as a feature on a big artist’s album is to make sure I help add to the production of the song, so I was more focused on the production. She was very adamant that she wanted me to be on the album, and I really liked that song. I thought it was nice to be able to bridge that world, since Jack [Antonoff] and I work together and so do Jack and Taylor. Taylor: And with Snow On The Beach, which features the genius Lana Del Rey, very lucky to have collaborated with her on that. And Dylan [O’Brien] was actually in the studio with me and Jack, because a lot of the time we record at his place, and Dylan was just hanging out, drinking wine with us, and listening to stuff, and he was just trying out the drum kit there. He wasn't serious. But we were drinking wine, and we were sort of like, 'We haven't recorded the drums for this one yet! See if you want to...' and he played the drums on the song. Sometimes it just happens like that. (transcript once again from jaimie)

Karma: Spring 2022 (Speculation)

Rolling Stone interview with Sounwave: The bubbly “Karma” came later [than Lavender Haze and Glitch], when Antonoff reached out to Spears for any other ideas he may have to contribute to the album and its synth-pop vision. “‘Karma’ was just a last-minute Hail Mary,” Spears says. “I remembered I was working with my guy Keanu [Beats] and had something that was too perfect not to send to her. As soon as I sent it, Jack was instantly like ‘This is the one. Playing it for Taylor now. We’re going in on it.’ The next day, I heard the final product with her vocals on it.”

April 19, 2022: Elle's interview with the Conversations with Friends cast is released, and when Joe is "asked if he hopes to continue writing songs, Alwyn simply says, “It’s not a plan of mine, no.”" It's possible this means Sweet Nothing was yet to be written, but I think it's more likely Joe was just denying in order to not create hype around a song that wasn't officially announced yet.

May 2022: Taylor teases Labyrinth lyrics in her NYU Commencement Speech and says m i d n i g h t very prominently on this instagram post, meaning by early summer she was likely confident in the album's name and which songs would make the tracklist.

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#taylor swift #timeline*#wrote this one in a haze with frequent breaks to pace around cause i was shaking so much #so if theres a typo that’s why #as always lmk if you spot a mistake/want further sourcing on anything/etc #AHHHHHH!!!!!

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moral-terpitude · 2 years

Text

Fourth Time’s the Charm

summary | Tommy’s wife wants a baby girl.

pairing | tommy shelby x wife!reader

warnings | allusion to post-partum depression, talk of miscarriage, smut, creampie, unprotected sex

author's note | I’ve never wrote anything “x reader” and wanted to give it a shot. I don’t feel 100% about how it turned out, but here it is anyway.

word count | 2,365

Requested part two can be found here.

[Masterlist]

——

Some days, your husband wouldn’t listen when you told him three children were enough.

You both already had your hands full with the three dark haired Shelby boys you had given him, that ran around and caused a ruckus from the time they woke to the time they slept, no matter what chores they were given, who they were sent with, or what the season was.

They were 8, 7, and 5-years-old, and it felt like for each month of the last five years that Tommy hadn’t seen you pregnant that he was trying to convince you for one more baby.

However, on a night like tonight, in a snowed in house, with a fire lit in your bedroom, his words had a chance of coaxing you.

For the most part, because you knew, deep down, that, yes, you wanted a girl. Each time you fell pregnant, no matter how happy you both were that you were able to give your husband another happy healthy baby, there was a tinge of disappointment those first few months, that you had birthed another boy.

That was until time passed, and you felt back to yourself, and you got to see that twinkle in his eye as he held them and helped you raise them that you realized, another boy was good, and you’d love them just the same.

The other reason you knew, that on a night like tonight, in a snowed in house, with a fire lit in your bedroom, his words had a chance of coaxing you, was because for the first time in so long, you were alone.

You had realized a pattern, as you lay in the tub thinking about the day, amongst other things, that each time that Tommy had planted another child inside you, you had been having a nice night together, alone.

Actually, each time it had been a calm day as today had been, followed by a night spent enjoying each other as much as you could.

And today had been one of those quiet days, as Ada had taken all three boys, bless her, to stay with her to give Karl a chance to spend time with his cousins. For the whole week actually they would be gone with their aunt.

You and Tommy had spent the day, well, he spent it working, and you spent it with your legs over the side of the leather chair in his office, alternating between a needlepoint and a new book.

After dinner you’d taken a nap while he kept working, and now you were in the bath. The water was warm and the room as dark, as the only light you had brought had been a candle.

You listened as the door opened and closed to your bedroom, followed by the sound of your husband setting his shoes in the closet, and hanging up his jacket.

You counted his steps to the door before he knocked twice, then opening it. He leaned in the door frame as he observed the parts of your body that were submerged and exposed from the scalding hot water.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding from me, eh?” He smiled as he removed the braces from his shoulders that held up his trousers and untucked the white shirt as he approached the tub across the cold tile.

“You call it hiding,” you said as he discarded the garments in a pile with yours, “I call it waiting.”

“Well,” his rough fingers met your shoulder as he traced the curve of your arm along the side of the tub before linking his fingers with yours, hot breath finding your neck as he planted a kiss behind your ear, “Mrs. Shelby, if you make room I’ll join you.”

The rough tone of his voice cropped up goose pimples on your exposed flesh and you moved forward and let him join you in the water.

As you leaned back against his chest, he let out a content sigh as his hands rested on your stomach.

There was silence for awhile, as you listened to his breathing and, if you placed your head just right against him, his heart beat. Moments like these were few and far between, and made you fall in love with him a little bit more each time.

“I’ve been thinking,” you whispered as one of his hands, in the water, traced the ghost marks in your flesh, a sign of growth and retraction, mothering and carrying of children burned into your skin, and his other hand wove its fingers between yours, light flickering off of two golden bands next to each other, “maybe, we can try for a girl.”

You heard the blip of his heart skipping a beat as your words caught him off guard and his fingers gave yours a squeeze and he took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

The excitement in his voice he tried to repress just a tad. He knew, from the last three children that, if the trend continued, you’d be absolutely insatiable for nine months.

His hands wandered your body before speaking, one hand moving to your breast, to squeeze the nipple, while the other dipped between your thighs. While the sensation in the water of him lightly pressing your clit wasn’t the best, as the water just didn’t work the same way as your own wetness would, it still felt good.

With a squeeze of your shoulder he whispered in your ear, “Let’s get out, yeah?”

With a nod you stood as the water dripped down your body, before he leaned past you to retrieve and wrap you in the soft towel. Now, not that he usually wasn’t always, but now you figured would be soft with you. Gentle.

As the water drained and you dried yourself and collected a towel for him, a sad thought popped into your head.

“You have to promise me something, Tommy,” as the words began to leave your lips you almost regretted them, knowing that if there was an answer to the question, you didn’t want to hear it. “You have to promise me, that you won’t let some of those men that you’ve subjected yourself to rub off on you.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he waited for you to continue, “I don’t need to know, but I tell you now, I can’t bring a daughter into this world and teach her she needs to be respected by men if I have her father out with other women behind my back.”

He closed the short distance between you, a somber look upon his face with a slow shake of his head, before wrapping you in strong arms, “There’s no one but you, love.”

His words quieted the noises and chaos inside your mind as you found your head resting against his chest.

His fingers traced unidentifiable patterns on your back. The smell of his skin seemingly was always tainted by a touch of whiskey, a cigarette snuck in at some point recently, and his aftershave. But you loved it. It was comforting. Him, undeniably.

He pulled from you slightly to turn your chin and capture your lips in his. As he held your face his free hand crept down your back and over your ass to play with the wetness that was already escaping your warm cunt.

You did your best to wrap your leg loosely around him, allowing him better access to pump his fingers in and out of you.

He pulled his lips from yours moving to your neck as your hands splayed and clenched against his chest.

“Relax,” the word was a quiet breath whispered into your ear. He was well aware of your hesitation to relax and just express fully how you were feeling. You were stressed between children, and maids, and the constant company of the house that someone, anyone, would come barging in.

He sucked and nipped and licked at your neck, until finally you had convinced yourself that surely no one would interrupt the two of you on a night where all your children were away.

Shyly, a moan escaped you lips as your face was pressed against his shoulder. It was a wonderful noise to touch his ears as you felt his length continue to grow, pressed against your stomach.

He removed his fingers from you, wet trailing across your flesh as he brought both hands to your hips. The candlelight flittered and flicked and sent wild shadows across his face as he watched you.

“Should probably move to the bed,” the way his eyes roamed you made you feel as if he was taking you in for the first time, “doesn’t seem right to try and conceive a child with you bent over the sink.”

You were flush as you thought about Adam, the middle of the three, knocking at the locked bathroom door a few weeks ago as Tommy pounded into you, sounds muffled by your skirt and his slacks, as your son mused that he couldn’t find daddy anywhere.

You had yelled to him through gritted teeth and fingers grasping the porcelain and the faucet to take his brothers and go check the stables.

“Not just any child, Tommy, a girl.”

He smiled as he sat at the head of the bed, pulling you onto his lap, as his hands found your hips again.

“How do you know it’ll be a girl, eh?” He smiled as his hands squeezed you.

You guided him inside you, relaxing your legs, slowly, to take him fully before speaking.

“Because, all of you Shelby’s, as far as I can tell, have a curse.”

He quirked an eyebrow before bucking his hips up into you when you didn’t lower yourself all the way to meet him. “A curse?”

Your hands gripped his shoulders as you moved yourself on and off of him, the wet between your thighs growing more pronounced as your breasts bounced and the head of his cock cascaded every ridge inside of you, moans passing between both of your lips before his strong hands held you in place as you took him whole inside you again.

“Tell me, Mrs. Shelby,” one hand stayed on your hip while the other gently tickled your stomach, resting there as he pictured you filled with his seed and growing his child once again, before his blue eyes, alight with some kind of fire, met yours “what is this curse you think we have?”

You squirmed against him, rocking your hips just enough to feel him hit somewhere just further than the deepest part of you, with a gasp as he pushed further, the words choked out of you in the midst of a moan you weren’t anticipating, “Three boys.”

His brow furrowed as he pulled the both of you around just right so you landed gently on the pillow and he now lay between your legs, looking down at you. “Three boys?”

“It takes three boys to get a girl,” you explained as he slowly pulled himself out of you, and you watched the breath he took as your fingers skritched and played with the short hair at the back of his neck.

He pushed back into you slowly but you could see his thoughts were elsewhere now.

“You three,” you said as you poked him on the end of his nose and he leaned forward to kiss you fingers, “then Ada. Our three. Ada only has Karl,—”

He interrupted you, as if wanting to prove you wrong, “John didn’t have three boys with Martha.”

Maybe, maybe, the men in their family didn’t speak of these things outside of their houses. “She lost a baby, Tom.”

He paused, taking in the somber mood that took over your face as his lips returned to your neck and you wrapped your legs around him. His arms were tucked under you and his fingers played with your hair.

He quickened his pace, the final flick of his hips as he was fully taken by you caused your moans to grow louder with each thrust. Eventually you were pulling yourself to meet him, feeling the warm heat of an impending climax growing in your stomach.

You breathed his name silently between your lips as the words all mingled into some jumbled mess. Surely, Mary and Frances even if they were in deepest depths of the house, as far away from your room as possible, could hear all the noises he had you making. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you pushed away the thought.

“If you,” the words escaped him through staggered breaths as he rose to hold you by you thighs, his hips almost painfully bucking against you, “if you can come for me,” your head pressed back into the pillow as the words left his lips, he knew what he was doing to you, and also maybe if he said the words that would make it true, “love, if you come, it’ll be a girl, yeah?”

All the words hadn’t even been spoken before you indeed started to clench as his cock swelled and exploded his seed inside you.

You chuckled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, a contented sigh humming in his chest as he lay on top of you gently.

“Tommy, if you squash me there’ll be no baby,” you choked out, knowing full well he wasn’t laying with all his weight into you anyway.

He pulled the blankets over you both, nuzzling into your neck once again as he kept his hand resting on the lower part of your stomach.

You could hear his heart pounding from his chest as you played with the longest part of his hair, your eyes closed.

“Think we’ve done it then?” An excited beat leapt in your chest as you thought about how he would behave with a daughter. Would he learn to braid her hair?

“No, no, love. I think we’ll have to try over the next few days. Just to be sure,” you joked as he brushed the few strands of hair that were in your face back behind your ear, “maybe even a few times each day. To be certain.”

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy x reader #fourth times the charm

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cookiescribble · 8 months

Text

First Day

A/N: this has been in my head for a long time because I have random trivial star trek knowledge and whenever they show spencer talking about star trek in the show i go all heart eyes so I wrote a little blurb 🫶🏻 also I had fem!reader in mind when I wrote this but I realized I didn’t actually make any references to gender so 🤷🏻 - mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer bonds with his new coworker over Star Trek.

~~~

It was my first day at the BAU, and I was a little… intimidated being here. I had been mostly keeping my head down and staying quiet, since social interaction wasn’t something I was great at. I was okay just watching the others interact with each other for now.

“Hey, kid,” Derek called out, beckoning Spencer. “I need your help with the crossword.”

Spencer walked over to Derek’s desk, which was next to mine. “What’s up?” he asked.

Derek pointed to the newspaper with his pencil. “7 across: James _ Kirk (Star Trek). 8 letters.”

Tiberius, I thought instinctively. I considered saying it out loud, but he hadn’t asked me, so I decided to stay quiet.

“Tiberius,” Spencer said, almost as fast as I had thought it.

I smiled to myself. I was always the only one who knew about geeky stuff. Until now, I guess.

Derek finished filling in the crossword. “Thanks. I knew it was always James T. Kirk, but I didn’t know what it stood for.”

Without thinking, I spoke up. “Actually, in the third episode of The Original Series, someone who’s fighting Kirk prepares a gravestone for him and it says James H. Kirk.”

Everyone turned to look at me, staring at me with open mouths. I blushed. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But now I felt uncomfortable sitting in this silence.

I cleared my throat. “Um. So. Yeah. It wasn’t always James T. Kirk, as you said. They didn’t mention his full initials until-“

“Episode 13: The Conscience of the King.” Spencer cut me off, his eyes lighting up like he had been dying to talk about this. He walked over to my desk and leaned on the front of it. “The first time they mention it is when Spock is checking his background and speaks it into the computer.”

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, and they don’t mention the name Tiberius until the 6th movie, The Undiscovered Country.”

“Oh my god, there are two of them,” I heard Emily say.

Either Spencer didn’t hear her or he was purposefully ignoring her. “Actually…” he started, sitting on my desk. He was bouncing a little. “The first time the name Tiberius is mention is in The Animated Series episode BEM.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” I admitted. “I’ve never actually seen The Animated Series. Actually, I’ve only ever seen part of The Original Series…”

That only made him sit up straighter. “Do you want to watch it? I have every episode on DVD. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve always wanted to finish watching it, and watch the other shows too. If you don’t mind me imposing…”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. Not a lot of people I know are interested in Star Trek, so I’m happy to show it to you if you’re interested. You can come by my apartment sometime and we can watch it.”

I nodded. “That sounds great. I appreciate it.”

I heard people whispering in the distance.

“Did he just-“

“Shh, don’t say anything, you’ll jinx it. I think this is the first time in history that this has ever worked.”

“And probably the last time it will ever work. This is definitely a unique circumstance.”

I blushed a little as I heard everyone talking about us, but I continued chatting comfortably with Spencer for a while before everyone was interrupted by the news that we had a case. But I was really relieved that, despite feeling so overwhelmed about starting this job, I had been able to make a friend on my first day.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x male!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction #mod angel

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tobi-smp · 5 months

Text

[looks left, looks right]

I've been holding this one back until people got cool with a lot of things very quickly but I think nows the time

lets have a quick examination of c!allium off the top of my head

1: ranboo joins the server and is immediately heckled by dream

2: that same day he meets tommy and they have the famous exchange where tommy asks ranboo if he likes flowers (to rib him) and ranboo accidentally punches him trying to give it to him. this is cute on its own, but of course we Know that tommy loves flowers, that he covered his house in them, that he sung to the plants in l'manberg

3: and importantly, that he took the flower

4: tommy immediately taking ranboo under his wing and running off to Do A Prank with him. this is really important because this is tommy trying to go back to the way that things were Before. the way that he'd had fun with his family and what he did when he felt safe and secure. this is tommy being silly with a new person he might consider a friend, but it's Also him trying to reconnect with that happy Free feeling he'd had before

5: they'd made a bunker specifically to plan out their prank, and he'd put the allium that ranboo gave him into a chest hidden for safe keeping. And That Allium Survived. he kept it and it survived

6: when they're caught not because what they did was Actually out of line (griefing was an every day occurrence, even and Especially between l'manberg and dream's territory), tommy Deliberately Did Not Throw Ranboo Under The Bus.

he didn't take it seriously, he made fun of everyone because the situation was ridiculous, but he Never implicated ranboo. and in fact, he only started Admitting to the crime When Ranboo Was Being Implicated. he Deliberately Took The Fall For Him.

(and it's worth noting that the evidence that was used to tie to tommy to the crime in the first place were signs that Ranboo wrote).

7: and in return Ranboo Stood Up For Tommy. ranboo is a character defined by his conflict avoidance and lack of spine, But He Stood Up For Him. he admitted to being a part of it, and he pointed Out that tommy was taking the fall to try to protect him, and he did so Specifically to counter tommy being called selfish.

8: then in between the trial and exile day tommy opened up to ranboo, both about being afraid of his relationship with tubbo falling apart AND with his relationship with wilbur. admitting to having nightmares and admitting that this fear of losing tubbo is tied to having lost wilbur. this is something he'd never said out loud to anybody at this point, and it'd be Many Many more months until he'd open up about it to anybody else.

9: while there Were people who visited tommy in exile multiple times, ranboo was undeniably the most consistent (outside of ghostbur, until well. dream tried to kill him)

he visited him in person And he wrote to him regularly. dream saw this as a threat so explicitly that he tried to sabotage their writing, to which ranboo circumvented it.

he'd regularly talk to tommy and try to help him while he was breaking down. he's on the of the only people on the entire server to have a full picture of what happened and it ate at him.

10: he was Also the first person after techno to find out that tommy was still Alive.

11: ranboo's "dream is the reason" being intrinsically tied to how he's Seen dream hurt tommy and rip him apart from his friends.

12: His Speech At The Green Festival. "why can't you guys just choose PEOPLE" not direct at tommy but to Defend Him. why didn't they defend him because he was their Friend? why did the politics Matter when they all knew what was happening was wrong? (of course, we know the answer to that. but ranboo wasn't there to see it. he didn't know)

13: ranboo being there at doomsday, despite everything he was there. I Think About It

14: Ranboo Being There At The Disc War Finale, Finally Putting Himself Between Tommy And Dream. Dream Specifically Looking At Him In A Crowd Of People. I Think About It I Think About It.

15: Tommy's Death, My Fucking God Tommy's Death. him finding the allium and realizing that tommy had kept it. him openly furious at the way the server treated him, how nobody saved him and how all of this could've been prevented if people had just Acted, if they'd Cared. everyone including himself.

chewing out sam for leaving him, sam talking to him bluntly about exile, I Think About It I Think About It I Think About It

16: ranboo and tubbo shadowing tommy after his revival. killing mobs for him, putting blocks under him while he's walking, watching to make sure that he's okay. Trying To Help Him Be Okay. doing therapy with him, talking with him. so afraid that he'll just disappear. "does he make you happy?" I think about it

17: tommy having a place in the mansion, even if he'd never moved in, he was supposed to be there

18: a major part of ranboo's struggle with his enderwalking not Just being about the fear of it happening at all, But The Realization That He Might've Hurt Tommy and how it absolutely Ate Him Up Inside

In Conclusion: if beeduo marriage hadn't happened I fully believe people would've started shipping c!ranboo and c!tommy and all of the discourse about rpf would've happened about them instead, and then years later tommy would've dropped his own actual rpf featuring his real self. this alternate timeline is way funnier

#dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #ranboo #allium duo #for the record #in my opinion canon benchtrio is that post about a polycule except one of them is just there #tommy isn't dating any of them but he's there #again this is because this is funny to me

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matan4il · 1 month

Text

Daily update post:

Yesterday, the IDF managed to prevent an independent Palestinian terrorist attack, by killing the would be terrorist on his way to execute his plan. Based on the type of weapons that were found on him, had he managed to carry out the attack, there probably would have been a lot of fatalities.

Also yesterday, the UN Security Council had an emergency session to discuss the UN report on the sexual violence of Hamas on Oct 7 and since (with the hostages). This was thanks to Israel asking several countries to request this session, and the US, the UK and France obliged. Believe it or not, more than 5 months after the biggest massacre of Jews since the Holocaust and the single bloodiest day in the Israeli-Arab conflict, that was the FIRST time that the UN has met to discuss what happened to people in Israel on that day. Let it sink in that the UN has discussed earlier and more frequently the situation in Gaza, than the massacre that started it. And that the UN still doesn't consider Hamas a terrorist organization. Israel again asked for this to change during yesterday's session.

Remember how I wrote about Yussuf and Hamza al-Ziadna, 2 of the 3 Muslim Israeli hostages, still held in Gaza after more than 5 months? Well, yesterday at the UN, Ali al-Ziadna, Yussuf's brother and Hamza's uncle, confronted the Palestinian ambassador, demanding to know why the Muslim Israeli hostages have not been released to fast and pray during Ramadan, as all Muslims should get to, and how could Hamas call themselves Muslims... (I'll just correct one thing he said: while Hamas released 23 of its 32 Thai hostages without asking for anything in return, but as part of the November 2023 deal to release the Israeli hostages, 9 Thai citizens are still in captivity. I do not want anyone to forget these men, they must be released and reunited with their loved ones, too)

The BBC has already been accused by members of the British Parliament of being institutionally antisemitic. Now, it seems like the British broadcaster is insisting on further proving those accusations right, as its head chooses to defend the BBC's use of an unsubstantiated witness account from a "journalist" known to be working for Iran, and who has in the past praised terrorists killing Israelis (his testament matches Hamas' narrative) regarding the stampede incident in northern Gaza. But, you know. Good on the Jews and the Jewish state for controlling the media. *eyeroll*

This is 58 years old Rami Davidian.

He's a farmer from moshav Patish. On Oct 7, he got a message from a friend, asking Rami to save his kid, who was at the Nova music festival, where today we know was the single deadliest scene of all the place Hamas attacked during the massacre. Rami went in, and saved the kid and 12 others in his vehicle, while also directing others to moshav Patish. This led to more people hearing about it, and calling Rami as well, giving him details about their loved ones, and asking for his help in rescuing them. Rami went back in, again and again, to an active shooting scene controlled by murderous terrorists, for hours, and he kept getting people out. Once, to save the life of a young girl, he approached the terrorists, and speaking Arabic to them, he lied that he's a Muslim Arab like them who came to warn them of nearing soldiers, and that they must flee, leaving their victim behind. Rami didn't know this, but on that day, many actual Israeli Muslim Arabs were murdered by Hamas for "working for the Jews," which the terrorists claimed made these Arabs even worse than the Jews. But miraculously, the lie worked for Rami. Once the IDF arrived and Rami was no longer needed to save the living, he helped with the identification and bringing to burial of the dead. After everything he had done for others on that day, risking his own life repeatedly, 2 days ago Rami gave an interview, and said that it's the survivors of Hamas' sexual violence who are the real heroes. Thank you for everything you did and who you are, Rami. Together with other people who risked themselves to save others, whether Jewish or not, you are gibor Yisrael (hero of Israel).

This is 19 years old Itay Chen.

He's one of the Israeli hostages that in the past 5 months, I have heard his parents speaking about their fears over not having gotten a sign of life, and hopes for his release countless times. As Itay has an American citizenship, they even personally met with Biden to plea for their son's life. Today we got the announcement that he had in fact been murdered on Oct 7, and it's his body that's being held captive by Hamas. I have no doubt that Israel will still do whatever it can to get it back, and allow him to be brought to kever Yisrael (Hebrew term for Jewish burial. Literally: Israel grave), and it would even release convicted terrorists to make that happen (it has done this before), but obviously the "price" for a living hostage is higher, not to mention that the thought of someone alive and suffering in captivity comes with a greater psychological pressure and urgency, so Hamas intentionally and cruelly let his parents spend months not knowing, hoping for what Hamas already know was impossible, fly all over the world, and beg for something that no one could give them. I just have no words for this type of ruthlessness.

May his memory be a blessing.

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

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

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multifandomsw · 4 months

Text

Apologies 7

Harry Styles x Reader

summary: After an encounter with your old best friend, she gave you her number to catch up. When you decide to send her a message, someone else replies. Was it destiny?

warnings: angst, fluff

author’s note: It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m so happy to be back! I wrote this within a few hours. It was quite hard to write, but I hope you’ll enjoy this! I feel like you’ll either like it or hate it…especially the end

Part 7

Harry took yet another look at his phone and sighed when he saw that half an hour had already passed.

Lucy was late again.

Normally Harry wouldn’t truly care about that fact. He’d just pull out his phone and look at some instagram stories.

This time though, he needed to talk to Lucy. Desperately needed to talk to Lucy.

Because of you.

God, he couldn’t take you off of his mind. He hadn’t been able to take you off of his mind ever since he got to know you, but now it was worse.

The thought of you was the only thing that consumed his mind.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face in front of him. And every time he saw it, he was reminded that you were truly the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. And he was sure that no matter how many more new people he would see during his life, it would stay this way.

After feeling your warm touch on his skin yesterday, Harry wasn’t sure if he could continue living without it. He craved feeling you this close to him again.

“Harry.”, someone interrupted and when he looked up and saw Lucy, Harry felt relieved. Because as much as he loved thinking about you, he was going insane.

“Hi.”, he breathed out and took her in. She still wore the same outfit she had worn yesterday, her make-up was smudged and her hair was a mess. Nevertheless, Lucy wore a smile on her face.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Oskar wouldn’t let me go.”, she giggled and sat down on the seat opposite from Harry.

Harry only raised his eyebrows. “Oskar, huh?”

Lucy blushed. “He’s actually really nice. He even made some breakfast.”, Lucy giggled and took a sip from the coffee Harry had ordered. “Ew, it’s cold.”

Harry only rolled his eyes. “Because you’re late.”, he sighed. “Have you checked on her? Is she fine?”, he needed to know.

Lucy simply sighed. “She is. She only has a headache.”, she began, but hesitated before continuing. “What?”, Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“She doesn’t remember anything from yesterday. She thinks it was a dream.”, Lucy admitted.

Honestly, Harry didn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed. He was glad that you didn’t find out yet, glad that he could just be himself for a little while longer. But after yesterday, he realized that texting you was not enough for him. He wanted to see your radiant smile every day, he wanted to hear your voice every day, wanted to fall asleep with you in his arms every day.

“Oh.”, he whispered defeatedly.

“Harry-“, Lucy started, but Harry interrupted her quickly. “You said she went to the club to forget about her troubles, right? What’s troubling her? She barely tells me stuff like that anymore and I- I feel like she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, but then yesterday she told me she liked me and I-“, his voice cracked. “I just don’t know what to think anymore.”, he continued in a whisper.

“She hated the attention she’s getting, Harry. You know that the interaction you had with her in Munich is all over the internet. It went even that far that a fan of yours approached her when we were in a café. And-“, Lucy began, but stopped talking, debating whether she should even tell Harry about that.

“And what, Lucy?”, he desperately wanted to know.

“I don’t know if you know everything about what happened with her old best friend at your concert.”, she began and Harry shook her head. “No, not everything.”

“Well- her old best friend approached her with her boyfriend and told her that no one would ever like her and that you only talked to her because you pitied her-“

Harry’s heart quite literally stopped. “What the fuck? She doesn’t believe that, does she?”

“She kind of does.”, Lucy sighed. “But Harry, she told me that she liked you. It’s obvious how much.”

“She likes H.”, he reminded Lucy and seeing the sad look in his eyes hurt Lucy too.

“But that’s you, that’s the real you. Don’t you see? You like each other. It’s time to tell her the truth, Harry. Better now than too late.”, Lucy argued, but stopped when she saw one tear rolling down Harry’s cheek.

It felt like someone was stabbing a knife into Harry’s heart, slowly and painfully. Guilt washed over his whole body because he realized that he was the reason for your troubles. His concert was the reason for all your troubles. He was so focused on blaming himself, that he forgot to acknowledge the fact that you said that you liked him. You liked him.

Harry desperately tried wiping his tears away, but they just wouldn’t stop flowing out of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”, he managed to get out and Lucy knew it was not directed to her.

“H.”, Lucy tried to console him and he was almost disgusted when she said it. After you had called him H yesterday, he decided that he didn’t want anyone else calling him H ever again. It only sounded right when you had said it. “Harry.”, Lucy tried again and that’s when Harry stopped trying to wipe the tears away.

They were falling freely now.

“What’s wrong, Harry?”, she sincerely wanted to know.

Harry gulped hard. “It’s my fault. Everything’s my fault. It all happened during my concert. She’s struggling because of me.”, his voice cracked at the end.

“No, no. You’re not going to blame yourself now.”, Lucy instructed. “It was not your fault and you know it. You know what she told me? That she’s a thousand times happier ever since she got to know you. You gave her hope. You managed to make her believe that she might actually be good enough.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “She said that?”

“Yes! Harry, she truly likes you. I know I shouldn’t get involved, but you should tell her who you are eventually. She’s happy and Harry, you are happy too. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve never liked someone as much as you like her. She’s the only person you talk about lately.”

Of course Lucy was right. She always was. And somehow, Lucy had managed to give Harry a bit of hope back. “Do you think you could convince her to go to one of my Wembley shows? It would mean the world to me.”

His eyes were piercing green. They reminded you of a forest in summer, of springtime grass. His eyes reminded you of life.

They were so breathtakingly beautiful that you didn't look away from them even when he said your name so softly.

But as much as you loved his eyes, your eyes trailed down to his soft and full rosy lips. Only one thought consumed your whole mind: what would it be like to just lean in and kiss him?

You imagined the soft feeling of his lips moving against yours. You thought of how they would taste, like sweet honey, like a summer night, like him.

You whispered his name back just as softly and dragged your eyes back to his. You noticed that his pupils were dilated and wondered for a second if yours were too.

He placed his hand against your cheek, slowly caressing it with his thumb as he stepped closer to you.

He was so close now that you could feel his breath softly tickle your skin and you knew if you looked down, his lips would only be centimeters away from yours.

"Can I kiss you?", he asked, leaning closer but never closing the gap. Not before you would give him permission, you figured.

You parted your lips, letting out a shaky breath."Yes.", you managed to answer and he wasted no time as he leaned closer to you-

Before he pulled back and let out an evil chuckle.

”Green eyes can't be trusted.", he smirked and let go of you.

Lucy practically stormed into your room and woke you up in the process. “You won’t believe what happened.”, she let out excitedly and you simply groaned.

You groaned because she had woken you up and because you had dreamed about him again.

Again, because you had dreamt about H yesterday, too.

“Leave me alone.”, you grumbled and closed your eyes again, but Lucy didn’t care. “I won tickets for one of Harry’s Wembley shows.”, she let out excitedly and it took a moment for you to process this information.

“What?”, you sat up and looked at her in disbelief. “And they’re VIP tickets, too!”

“That’s- that’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“You’ll come with me.”, she decided and your eyes widened. “No, no.”, you whispered. “Lucy, you know what happened during my last concert.”

She quietly said your name. “We have VIP tickets, which means there are no fans nearby. No one can disturb you.”

“But they can still take pictures of me and start speculations.”, you argued, crossing your arms.

“And? It’s fucking Harry Styles, who cares if the world thinks you’re dating. They’re just jealous.”

“Lucy.”, you started, sighing. “You know I-“

“Please.”, she practically begged you. “I don’t want to go alone, I won’t go alone. And I have no one else to go with.”

The tickets would go to waste if you didn’t go with Lucy. And as much as you hated the idea of going, you decided that you should slowly overcome your doubts and fear. “Okay?”, you answered unsure.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”, you whispered and hid your face in the T-shirt you were wearing. Lucy had told you that it was hers and that she had helped you change when you came home from the club. You believed her of course, but the shirt didn’t smell like Lucy at all. It smelled like a forest in spring after it had just rained, like fresh flowers and grass.

It smelled like home.

You and H had never stopped texting each other, but you had stopped talking to him about some things.

Not intentionally, no, but you slowly started to believe that H was getting tired of you too.

Which was anything but true. When you told H about it, he was determined to show you how much he truly cared for you.

H: Listen to “All I Want” by Kodaline.

You: Oh?

H: It reminds me of you

You: Stop it you know I’m blushing

H: I just want to show you how much I care about you

You: I might care about you too

H: Oh, you might?

You: Well, you could still be old

H: I hate you

You: You know you love me

H: Yeah I do

H: Do you know what you’ll wear to the concert tomorrow?

You: Just something simple. Probably a cute top and some oversized pants

H: I really want you to go, but are you 100% sure that you’ll be okay?

You: I think I’ll be

H: You think?

You: No, I know. He’s one of my favorite singers and I’m really excited about the concert now that I’m thinking about it

You: Who cares if people think we’re dating? I mean who wouldn’t want to date Harry Styles?

H: I’m glad

H: You’d make a great couple

You: Oh shut up

"Uhm-, Harry began, but looked down at his hands to think about his next words very carefully. It was Jeff after all and Jeff hated spontaneous decisions. He was likely going to tell Harry how he would regret it and how impulsive he had been, but deep down, Harry knew he wouldn't regret it, would never regret it.

"How have you been?", Harry changed the question quickly and Jeff only raised his eyebrows.

"We saw each other yesterday."

Harry bit his lip in order not to let out a laugh. It was stupid to be afraid to tell him, but Harry cared about Jeff's opinions.

"Just say whatever you want to say, it can't be that bad.", Jeff nudged Harry's arm and now

Harry truly let out a laugh.

"It might be that bad.", Harry chuckled. "Okay, but you can't say that it was an impulsive decision before hearing me out."

Jeff scrunched his face in confusion. "Did you get nipple piercings?"

"What?"

"Please tell me you didn't get a genital piercing.”Jeff looked Harry deep into his eyes, concern written all over his face.

Harry could only let ihr a hysterical laugh. "You're absolutely crazy, of course I didn't get a genital piercing!"

Jeff let out a breath of relief. "You scared me for a second, boy"

Harry could only roll his eyes in response. "Okay. I got a new tattoo."

"You always get new tattoos, it's nothing new."

"Okay, but this one might be.", Harry let out and just shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just going to show you.", he said while taking his shirt off.

Jeff's eyes searched for the tattoo for a second, but his eyes widened when he saw the new tattoo on his collar bone.

"Please tell me this is a joke."

"Nope."

"Are you out of your mind?", he asked as he stared at the Cherry tattoo on his chest. Spelled out.

"See, I knew you were gonna react like this."

"She doesn't even know who you are!", Jeff argued. "This will last forever Harry. You're not even-“, Jeff interrupted himself before he took a deep breath.

“I’ve never felt that way about someone before.”, Harry admitted with a small smile on his face and when Jeff looked in his eyes he saw not an ounce of doubt.

Jeff sighed. “When will you tell her?”

Harry’s smile instantly dropped. “Soon.”

“This won’t end well if you fail to tell her the truth Harry.”

“I know.”, he whispered back. “I want to tell her, I just don’t know how.”

“She’ll be here today, right?”, Jeff questioned. “Yes.”

“Then tell her today.”

“No, no, I couldn’t.”, Harry stammered.

Jeff only gave him a stern look. “You should do it, and you know it. Now go change into your outfit.”

To say you were late was an understatement. Lucy’s car had broken down in the middle of the road. You had even suggested to just go back home, but Lucy had insisted on taking a taxi to the concert after you had waited over an hour for someone to take Lucy’s car away.

When you entered the VIP tent, Harry Styles was already singing Sign of the Times and you realized that you had missed almost all of the songs.

Still, when you saw him on the stage, you were once again absolutely mesmerized. He looked gorgeous. From the rosy cheeks, to his full lips and sparkling eyes. You could see his dimples when he smiled at a fan and almost lost it.

Hearing Sign of the Times live for the very first time was probably one of the most beautiful things you had ever experienced. Sometimes you forgot how good Harry Styles could truly sing.

“I’m sorry that we arrived so late.”, Lucy apologized and pulled you out of your trance. “Nonsense. We’re here now.”, you looked around the tent, not seeing anyone familiar until your eyes landed on Anne and Gemma not far away from you. Anne was waving at Harry and Gemma was swaying from side to side.

They were standing so closely to you, you could just take a few steps towards them and talk to them.

Which you, of course, wouldn’t do. But you could.

“She’s not coming, is she?”, Harry whispered to himself after Sign of the Times ended. He had long given the hope up and it hurt him to look into the direction of the VIP tent and not see you standing there, beaming up at him.

Still, he couldn’t help himself and spared the VIP tent one last glance and caught-

Your eyes.

He just stared at you for a few seconds. At your toothy smile, at your adorable hairstyle, at your rosy cheeks. He had only seen you a few days ago, but still: his heart quite literally stilled in his chest.

He didn’t think you would show up.

Harry let out a chuckle and ducked his head for a second, trying not to get too distracted. “Hi.”, he mouthed and blew you a small kiss.

He knew he shouldn’t talk to you. Not after all the hate you got after the last concert. Still, it pained him not being able to talk to you.

Seeing the blush form on your cheeks, though, was more than enough to satisfy him.

“I think we all feel a little unloved sometimes.”, Harry began addressing the crowd. “Some more than others. I’m sure that every single one of you has thought about not being good enough at least once in your lives. Including me. You probably have felt unloved, unwanted and left out on more than one occasion.”, Harry began and the crowd roared.

“I know this girl.”, Harry began and one girl in the crowd made an ‘uhhh’ sound.

Harry chuckled, those beautiful dimples of his showing. He spared you a glance and saw that you were listening intensely. “And this girl thinks all of these things every single day. Over and over again.”

“And you know what? She’s none of these things. She is loved, she is wanted, she is more than fucking good enough. She’s everything.”, Harry had to fight every urge not to look at you right now, because he was sure he would beging to cry instantly.

“She doesn’t know that yet. I hope she’ll know this and realize this one day. She doesn’t even know that I’m talking about her right now. But I want her to know that I’ll always wait for her. Until the end of the time. This song I wrote reminds me quite a lot of her. This is Little Freak.”, Harry ended his speech and began singing.

You never saw my birthmark.

Harry knew, with every fiber in his being, that all of his following songs would be about you. Every single song he had begun writing since he had known you was about you.

“This song wasn’t on the set list! It’s one of my favorites.”, you told Lucy who was grinning at you. “It sure is. Do you know how many-“, Lucy stopped talking suddenly and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before you turned around and saw someone approaching you-

Anne and Gemma were approaching you.

“What?”, you whispered to yourself when Gemma hugged Lucy. “I’m glad you could make it!”, Gemma grinned and stepped back so that Anne could give Lucy a hug.

How did she know them? Did they confuse Lucy with someone else? “I heard your car broke down.”, Anne said worriedly and now you were sure that they weren’t confusing her for someone else.

“Yes, but we just took the taxi.”, Lucy answered and introduced Anne and Gemma to you. Anne went to hug you quickly and grinned at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You have?”, you questioned. “Uh- yes, Lucy told us quite a bit.”

“How do you-“, you began, your mind still not comprehending that you were talking to Anne and Gemma. “How do you know each other?”

Lucy bit her lip. “Anne is my mom’s best friend.”, Lucy explained. You couldn’t believe it. Why had she never told you about that? Surely, she couldn’t have just forgotten. “Oh. You never told me about that.”

Lucy just shrugged her shoulders. “I must have forgotten to.”, she answered and turned back to Anne. Why would she forget something like that? Hadn’t she said that she was a Harry Styles fan?

“Do you like London, dear?”, Anne questioned. “Oh, yes, uhm- it’s very beautiful here.”, you stammered and Anne smiled warmly at you. “Have you seen much of the city already?

“Well- parts of it. But I still have much to see, I suppose.”

Anne nodded. “Oh yes, I’m sure Harry will show you around sometime.”, Anne began and you saw as horror washed over Gemma’s face.

Harry? Why would Harry Styles show you around? Surely, they haven’t seen the rumors on the internet? They wouldn’t say anything about it, because Harry Styles would tell them that they weren’t real-

So why did they bring up Harry?

“Harry?”, you questioned and watched Anne’s eyes widen with fear, too. “Lucy. Lucy will show you around.”

Your mouth parted as you moved your eyes to the stage, where Harry had just finished his song and was looking at you. You looked from him to Gemma and back.

Surely Harry wasn’t-

No, no, that didn’t make any sense-

H lived in London. H was working in the music industry. H had his own concerts. H traveled a lot with his band. H didn’t tell you his real name or name of his band. H was a singer. H was a songeriter. H knew Taylor Swift. H was single because his schedule was too tight for love.

H is short for Harry.

Harry fucking Styles.

You felt the tears rush to your eyes as you stared at Harry Styles. He stared back at you as if waiting for you to say something. You bit your lip as you shook your head frequently, looking at him with utter disappointment. He had failed to tell you the truth.

No, no this could not be real, but as you turned around and ran away, you heard Harry Styles calling out after you, which made it all real.

“Cherry, wait.”

taglist: @st-ev-ie @hsstylesrings @bubblespower101 @ravisinghs-wife @mopeymousey @shishcabobsworld @stylesfever @valntynebaby @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @harryspirate @xxlunathewitchxx @hannah9921 @fingermonkey101 @amateurduck @babyiamperfectforyou @ravisinghs-wife @creativelyeva @fanficismydrug @manrocket-mo @crimeshowjunkie @lomlolivia @pagesfalling @harryssky1 @buckybarnessimpp @melancholy-help @annesauriol @tea-and-toast463 @sheslikeacurse @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @white-wolf-buckaroo @itsgigikay @cherrystyle @be-with-me-so-happily

#harry styles angst #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction

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