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eloquent--asshole · 3 years

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My Date With the President’s Son

a/n: I’ve been getting a lot of anons recently letting me know they couldn’t find this piece. Well... I found out it was deleted. So, here is a repost of My Date With the President’s Son! I was so sad when I found out it was gone :( BUT IT’S BACK!!! :) And much love to all of you that let me know it was missing! Come talk to me about this, future ideas, or anything! --PJ

hey, hi, hello! this is my submission for the Pick Your Poison fic challenge! I went with a good ole fake dating piece. Also, sidenote: this is the first pic i’ve actually decided to post! Please feel free to message me with any comments, questions, or concern. Also, an absolutely MASSIVE shoutout to @for-fucks-sake-h, @oh-honey-styles, and @andwhenshesays for creating this and letting me be a part of it! I’m so happy I decided to do this even though I was an absolute mess about it! Buckle up kids, it’s about to get messy!

read the other challenge pieces here!!!!! and support them!

"Miss. Y/L/N, I don't think you understand the immense pressure we're under with this mission." My boss, Mr. Thompson, was staring at me from across the conference table. The room was bright. Almost too bright from the fluorescent lights beaming on us.

I looked at my hands resting on my thighs under the table before returning to his gaze. "Well, Mr. Thompson, I don’t think you understand that this goes against not only our ethical codes but my moral beliefs as well.”

Mr. Thompson spoke as he got up and came around the table, taking a seat on the glass two feet to my left. "Miss. Y/L/N, you are obligated to serve your country. However the circumstances may seem. If you do not take this mission, I will be suggesting your employment for termination."

I ran a hand down my cheek. "What –“ I ran the options through my head. Get fired or help the President’s son. Easy decision, really. “How could this even work? Does he know?"

"No, he doesn’t know. Don't worry about the details of that. We will take care of it. Nevertheless, on your part, it must seem as authentic as possible." I looked at him in disbelief.

How could this be happening? What did I do to deserve the position to role play as the President’s slutty son’s romantic interest? I let out a heavy sigh before nodding at Mr. Thompson. He let a small smile break through his tough demeanor.

“Very well, we’ve set up for you two to ‘meet’ tomorrow.” Mr. Thompson got up to open the door at the end of the room. “Oh,” he paused turning to look at me one last time, “And don’t worry, if anything goes off course, you’ll be wearing an earpiece and a mic. So we’ll know and figure it out as we go along. Remember Y/N. We’re all in this together.”

But were we?

I sat in position, waiting for the signal. I was outside a quaint coffee shop where my target was currently buying a coffee.

As I got my cue from the team, I got up and started walking in the direction of the van that was watching our every move. The door to the coffee shop flew open and I felt a heavy weight rush into me "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you there," came rushing out of the stranger’s mouth. I looked down at the spilled coffee on the ground between us.

"No, no. It's okay, I should have been paying more attention." I said, letting an embarrassed blush creep onto my cheeks. Why did he have to actually run into me?

"Can I buy you another coffee?” He offered.

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"No, I insist. Really." He said, reopening the door to the café.

"Okay," I hesitated. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

"Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Harry. What do you like to drink?”

I heard Thompson in my ear immediately, "Vanilla soy latte,” he basically shouted.

"Vanilla soy latte, please" I offered a smile to the barista, hiding my wince. “A grande.”

"You're joking." Harry smiled down at me. He was taller than I expected. Standing about 6”1. His curls cut into the frame of his sunglasses. Cute. I thought to myself.

"Why?" I asked, letting a giggle escape my lips.

"That's what I drink" He chuckled. Okay. I see what you’re doing, Thompson.

We smiled at each other and finished ordering. The drinks were up almost instantly. We sat at a table I chose outside. Purposely, so the team could continue watching.

"So, tell me about yourself," He started, taking a sip of his latte.

"I-" I paused briefly, waiting for instruction from Thompson.

"You work as the marketing director for Accent" Accent is a huge professional services firm. There’s no way I’m getting away with this.

"I work as a marketing director.” I took a breath, “For Accent."

"That's cool, I have some friends who work over there." Is he onto me? "Do you know Rich?”

"Rich Charleston. Operations Manager. 5"5. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.” Thompson barked in my ear.

"Oh yeah. The operations manager? He's not that tall. Auburn hair?" I questioned, a coy smile playing at my lips.

"Yeah! That's him! Funny, I've been to a few work parties with them. I've never seen you around." He looked at his coffee and came back to me. I felt my cheeks tinge pink yet again. No way I’m making it through this.

"Y/N, you're doing great. Just go with it. You started at Accent three months ago. They haven't had a company party in five months.” Thompson stated. It’s weird. Almost as if playing detective. Wait. I am a detective. A very…high end detective.

"Oh, yeah. I only started a few months ago, so that would make sense." I giggled, taking a sip of my latte.

Harry’s phone started ringing in his pocket. He slipped it out to check the notification. "Shit, sorry. I actually have to get going. I'm late for a meeting. Could I get your number?" He asked, handing over his phone.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." I took his phone where the ‘add new contact’ was already on his screen. I entered my information and handed it back. "Great, I'll see you around then."

"Gladly." He was off, hopping into the back seat of an awaiting SUV across the street. As it pulled away, I noticed it was in a no-parking zone. Of course, it would be. He's the president's son.

It has been three weeks since my ‘run in’ with Harry. He texted me an hour later asking if he could see me again. We had seen each other twice over the course of three weeks. Each time in a public setting to ensure the FBI could have an eye on us at all times.

We talked mostly about my work. He had finally let it slide through text that he was the President’s son. It was easy to act surprised through text. It would be harder to act as if I didn’t know my coworkers if it ever got to the point that I would be seeing him in a more intimate setting.

I was starting to realize why so many women were swooning for him. Not only was he handsome – he was charming, sweet, and extremely articulate.

I sat in Mr. Thompson’s office discussing plans for the upcoming benefit. The benefit that Harry had yet to ask me to.

"Mr. Thompson, he has no idea this plan is underway. Like what happens if he tries to make advances on me. I did not sign up to be this boy's actual girlfriend.” I borderline complained.

"Miss. Y/L/N. This is your duty for the time being. We're trying to keep him safe and clean up his image. This is the best way we can do that.”

"Mr. Thompson, with all due respect, what if he actually starts to have feelings for me. What if he asks me to be his girlfriend? What if – "

Mr. Thompson raised a hand to interrupt me. "Miss Y/L/N, if that happens, we will handle it. Mr. Styles will never know. Now for the upcoming benefit. You will attend with Mr. Styles. As always, you will wear an earpiece. Members of the secret service will be aware of your presence. If something comes up, I will be in your ear warning you to get Mr. Styles out of there. Understood?"

"Yes sir,” I agreed, sulking into the chair. “But sir, he hasn’t even asked me.” Thompson’s hands brushed through the air - almost as to dismiss my thoughts.

“Oh, don’t worry, kid.” He snickered. “Mr. Horan, the head of his security, has intel that he will be asking you.”

As predicted, Harry did ask me to join him at the benefit. Giving me a two-day notice. Scratch that. Harry said he wanted me to come to a “party” and ‘wear something suited for a ball’ I recounted the statement as he was dropping me off from our brunch “date” on Thursday.

I stared at myself in the champagne-colored gown in my full-length mirror. I let out a frustrated sigh. This was so wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’s actually really sweet. How can I untangle myself from this mess? I could commit treason, leave the country, and lay under the radar. One part of my brain told me. Or be put to death. The other part reminded me. I gave myself one last look-over and decided it was time to head to the lobby.

My roommate, Ashley, whistled at me as I walked out of my bedroom into the kitchen. “Going somewhere nice?” she asked.

“Work event,” I brushed off. I hadn’t told her anything. Specifically, because of the confidentiality behind the mission.

“With Harry Styles?” I froze in my tracks, taking a deep breath.

“How did you know that?”

“Sweetheart. You are all over the magazine covers. Do you think no one has cameras in public? I was speechless. How could I be so naïve that journalists who have such a strong eye on Harry’s personal, party lifestyle wouldn’t spot us out?

“Honey,” I heard our third roommate, Summer, call from the couch. “Did you really think you could be so slick?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ashlie chimed in.

Before I could answer, a call from Harry popped up on my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go. He’s here.” I said turning on my heel to exit our apartment.

“Wait – “ Summer stopped me – “Can you please give us some juicy details on the man-who – I mean your new fling when you get home?”

I laughed at her response with a nod and started my trek to the lobby.

He was waiting outside the SUV, dressed in a black suit and a matching champagne tie. “Well don’t you look lovely.”

I blushed at his compliment. The security guard driving us gave me a curt nod as he opened the door for us. “Thank you. You look quite handsome yourself.”

When I dodged his kiss, he pulled me in for a hug before gesturing for me to get in first. “Thanks.” Despite the disappointment in his eyes, Harry’s smile was beaming. He looked absolutely adora – Y/N stop. This is strictly for work.

The door shut behind us and in half a second we were whizzing down the street to the banquet hall where the Benefit was being held.

“I’m really happy you agreed to be my date tonight,” Harry commented, not breaking his gaze from the window. “You can meet my parents.”

Parents? As in, the President and first lady of the United States? My body shivered at the thought. I have been in the same room as them before, yes. But meeting them as not an employee – but their son’s date, friend or whatever you want to call it – is terrifying.

“Wow, that would be – “ I tried to find the right words – “nice.”

“Really?” His eyes wandered to mine. “Most people would about shit themselves right about now.”

Well I’m damn near close, Styles.

When we pulled up to the entrance of the venue, our driver – Niall, I learned – hopped out and got the door for us. My eyes were blinded by the flashing lights. Harry grabbed my hand and helped me onto the ground. As we made our ascent, paparazzi were flooding him with questions. “Harry, Harry! Who’s this?” “New flame of the week kid?” “I heard you were bringing Kendall Jenner” could be heard from every angle.

Harry apologized as soon as the doors shut behind us. I shook my head to let him know it was okay.

“I am way too sober for this,” Harry mentioned before we walked into the noisy room. “And it hasn’t even started.” I let out a quiet giggle as he smiled at me.

The benefit passed with ease. As Harry walked us around making small talk and thanking people for coming, Thompson was in my ear telling me who people were and how they got invited. Harry and I kept making trips back to the bar. While I nursed two glasses of wine, Harry had drank 4 rum and cokes. It was becoming clear that Harry was feeling good. Almost too good for him to continue being at this event.

As a last stop around the room, we walked towards his parents.

“Harry, my boy. Thanks for being here tonight,” President Styles pulled Harry in for a hug.

“Like I had a choice?” He rolled his eyes. President Styles gave a laugh, one Harry didn’t reciprocate.

“Who’s this?” His mother asked as her gaze moved to me. Her eyes were kind. They matched Harry’s, I noticed.

“Mom, dad.” Harry said as he wrapped an arm around my waist, “This is my date, Y/N.”

“Hi,” I offered my hand to shake, “It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for having me tonight.”

“The pleasures all ours, sweetie.” His mother affirmed. I felt a smile creep onto my lips. His parents were sweet - partly informal.

As we were making our way to a table, we were stopped by a friend of Harry’s – Louis. Apparently, they had been long time friends. As they grew up, Louis had started a media company, one which Harry happily invested in to help him out.

“Harry, this your date?” He asked curiously.

“Yes, this is my future girlfriend, Y/N.” His words slurred, I felt the wind knock out of me. Girlfriend? FUTURE girlfriend?

“How about a kiss for the camera?” Louis interrupted my thoughts. “For a piece I’m working on?”

“Why not?” This boy was definitely drunk. Without having time to react, Harry grabbed my waist and quickly, yet gently, pressed his lips to mine. It lasted only about half a second and I found myself wanting more.

Harry chatted with Louis for a few more minutes before bidding goodbye and continuing our walk to a table in the back. I brought my fingers to brush against my lips, still feeling his burning into my memory.

The next hour passed quickly. Harry had downed another two drinks because “I’ve already talked to everyone I need to and now I can relax.” I could see why the media calls him a party boy. He’s 0 – 100 real quick.

Our conversation flowed easily and I found myself enjoying his presence.

“I’m having a really good time,” Harry slurred into my ear. He snuck an arm around my shoulders at some point, and I didn’t really care.

“So am I.”

“Good, I was really nervous to ask you.” His admission took me by surprise. The entire three weeks I’ve known him, he never seemed shy. He was always respectful. I’ve learned so much about the party boy that always seemed to be judged. If it were me, no one would care if I went out with my friends every weekend and brought a different guy home. But because he’s, well, Harry Styles. It matters. The presidential family is supposed to be clean, polished, not having any dirty laundry. But the media loves to air his.

I learned Harry had a – what most would call – normal upbringing. Small home in the outskirts of NYC. He went to public school up until high school, when his father had decided to run for congress and got in. His favorite color is yellow – because it’s happy. He loves music from the 70’s and 80’s because it reminds him of his childhood. He knows about his party-boy persona and absolutely loathes it – but continues to live it because it’s the only way he can let go of the stress from being the President’s son.

“Why were you nervous?”

“Well, it’s always intimidating to meet a beautiful woman who knows what she wants in life and won’t settle for less. I was especially nervous because I thought not only my reputation, but my status would scare you off.” My chest felt tight. If only he knew that everything, well half of everything, I told him were lines being fed to me from the Director of the FBI. “And I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you. I didn’t want to lie. But I felt like it would be easier for us to get to know each other before I told you.”

There’s that word. Lie. I hate that word but yet, it’s what I was doing almost every time we were together.

“I don’t want you to ever feel nervous or feel like you have something to hide from me.” I took the hand he had draped around me in my own. “I just want you to be yourself. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you. I don’t care about your status or the fact that your parents are the President and First Lady. That’s not something you should feel ashamed of.”

For the first time, Harry’s smile met his eyes. He’s smiled plenty when we’re together, but this was different. He tugged me closer and placed his lips on my cheek. They burned from his touch. My body temperature must have risen 10 degrees.

Did Thompson see that? Of course, he did. Wait, where is he? My smile dropped as I looked across the room, hoping for a sign of Thompson. He hadn’t been in my ear for a while. I wonder if everything’s okay.

“Everything’s fine,” I moved my eyes around the room once more, confused. “I can see that look on your face. I know that look. You were getting worried.”

Where the heck is Thompson and how can he see my face.

“Niall is about to grab you to take you both home. So, I’m off for the night. You’re on your own kid.” I heard the familiar static as they shut my earpiece off. So, they had heard that entire conversation, wonderful.

I smiled, reaching for my ear to take the piece out, but halting my movements when I remembered Harry was still sat next to me.

“Mr. Styles, the car is here.” Niall leaned down to whisper to Harry.

“Alright, love. Off we go.” Harry let his arm fall from my shoulder. I stood to grab my clutch off the table. I paused when I noticed Harry guzzling the rest of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “What?” he asked innocently. “I wasn’t going to just leave it there. Someone could try to sell that since my lips have touched it!” I smirked at him before linking my arm with his.

The drive home was filled with Harry trying to be touchy feely and a bit too flirtatious. Between him keeping trying to rest his hand on my knee, and the many compliments he spewed out in a drunken slur, I felt myself loosening up and enjoying his drunken, flirty presence. Niall made eye contact with me in the mirror one too many times for me to be comfortable with.

He knows.

When we pulled up to my building, I opened the door only to feel a tug on my wrist. I craned my neck to look at Harry, who didn’t let go of my arm.

“Will you kiss me?” His glazed eyes bore into mine as he leaned over to my half of the seat, “For real this time?” I contemplated for a second. Yes, I would like to kiss you again. Will I? I can’t.

I giggled at his lazy smile and glanced to the mirror at Niall who seemed to be minding his own business, “You’re drunk Harry.”

“Would you reconsider if I was sober?”

“Goodnight, Harry” I said, hopping out of the SUV.

“I’ll take that as a maybe!” He called as I shut the door.

What is this boy doing to me?

It’s been three days since the benefit. I hadn’t heard from Harry much, maybe a text or two over the last two days. I wish I could say I didn’t care. But I did. Yes, what I was doing was wrong. But after seeing him in a vulnerable state being drunk at the benefit, he grew on me. A lot more than I’d like to admit. Even though I hadn’t heard from him, I still had the inside scoop from Thompson. Apparently, Mr. Horan was keeping a tight leash on him. No parties or clubs recently.

One thing that should’ve been noticed a lot sooner on my part was that every time I was with Harry or Harry was out, he had Niall maybe 5 feet away. So why the hell would they need me?

Oh right – clean up the image.

“Y/N!” Ashlie screamed from the kitchen. I came to a screeching halt in front of her at the counter. “Have you seen these?” I furrowed my brows as she angled her laptop screen towards me. Right on the landing page of the most popular magazine’s website was Harry’s picture. Stumbling out of a club with none-other than Kendall Jenner, hand in hand.

My brows furrowed even closer when I grabbed the laptop from the counter. I quietly walked to the couch and sat down. ‘Eligible bachelor, Harry Styles couldn’t seem to get enough of the model as they were seen being cozy all night at popular night club, Avalon Nightclub downtown Washington, D.C.’

Would this jeopardize my mission? How would Thompson handle this? What now? Was he really done with me just like that?

With too many thoughts to process, I sat the computer next to me and stared at the blank TV. The weight of the couch shifted next to me. Ashlie slid her arms around my torso and rested her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She was trying to be empathetic; I know. But I also didn’t want her pity.

“It’s okay,” I tilted my head to rest on top of hers. “Who needs him anyways?”

Wait, I do.

I stared out the window behind Mr. Thompson. He tapped his fingers in pattern on his desk, other hand resting on his cheek.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” He started, stopping his fingers from tapping. I flicked my eyes to his. “I knew this would be hard, having the type of personality he does. He doesn’t – doesn’t have a long attention span when it comes to women.”

I looked back to the window, admiring the cars streaming by on the 695. I already knew that. We all knew it. You thought one of your agents could change him? People don’t change because you want them to. They change because they want to.

When I didn’t offer a response, Thompson continued. “Did something happen after the benefit? After we unplugged you?”

I thought back to that night. Our drive home was filled mainly with his giggles and slurred pick-up lines.

“I don’t think – “ I didn’t kiss him. He wanted to kiss me, and I didn’t. “He wanted to kiss me, Mr. Thompson.”

“You didn’t kiss him, right?”

“Yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “No, I mean – yes, I didn’t kiss him.” I clarified. I wanted to though.

“Miss. Y/L/N, we’ve brought in Mr. Horan. Head of his security. ”Thompson waved to Mr. Horan through the window. The screech from the chair next to me as it slid across the tile floor. My eyes flashed to the man next to me. Niall. Now it makes sense.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall cleared his throat, “Nice to see you again.”

“You as well, Mr. Horan.”

“As you know, Mr. Horan here is the head of Mr. Styles’ security and has been keeping an eye on him since the beginning of President Styles’ term. He’s here to shed some insight and help us through this obstacle. He knows Harry the best, so we will have his assistance for matters like this.” Mr. Thompson gestured to Niall to start speaking about what he knows.

“Yeah, so” Niall shifted in his seat and crossed his ankle at the knee. “Harry’s a bit frustrated. He feels like, I don’t know. That you – “ I caught his eyes drift to mine – “aren’t ‘interested’ in him anymore”

I scoffed at the remark, earning a glare from Mr. Thompson. “Miss. Y/L/N, a problem?”

“Sorry it’s just – “ I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, resting my palms on my thighs – “He feels like I’m not interested? When three days after the benefit he’s out gallivanting around D.C? That’s ridiculous.”

“See,” Niall turned towards me, “That’s just it. That’s how Harry copes. He doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms. He thinks the best way to get around his issues is to drink them away. It’s why he drank so much at the benefit. It’s why he drinks so much in general.”

It explains a lot. He had told me that he’s been under stress, and I can only imagine how much stress he feels from having to live up to a perfect image that he can’t attain with his reputation.

“So, what do I do?”

“I’ve tried to knock some sense into him. I may protect Harry for a living, but he is my friend, and I care about him and his feelings.”

The Saturday sun was warm on my skin. I stared at the clouds in the sky, listened to the kids playing about 50 feet away, and the ducks in the pond. I should be at the gym, I reminded myself. Or at least running.

It’d been a week since I last saw Harry, part of me missed him. Thompson said he was going to work with Niall and how to get the boy back on track. Why me out of all people? There were so many young women in the FBI at this point, so why me? ‘Because we see the most potential in you. Half these women won’t make it another 6 months.’ Thompson’s voice rang in my ears from our conversation yesterday afternoon.

The bright darkness dimmed behind my eyelids. I opened one to see a figure standing above me. I jolted out of my comfort.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I said sitting up and criss crossing my legs.

“Uh – “ raising a hand to the back of their neck – “Can we talk?”

“Yeah Summer, what’s up?” She sat opposite of me in the grass and looked around the park.

“It’s a nice day today, isn’t it?” Her eyes never settled on mine. She’s being cautious.

“Yeah, great day to be outside.” I looked over to the swimming ducks, still quacking at each other.

What I would give to be a duck right now. Not having any worries about whether or not my job was still intact. If my friends hated me for lying to them. If the boy I liked was done with me before even having a chance to know me, and really me.

“So,” Summer started after a few minutes of silence. I looked at her expectantly. “Someone dropped by today to see you.” My heart jumped; my palms started to sweat. Was Harry at my apartment?

“Harry?”

“Uh – “ she faltered – “No, Louis?” I scrunched my brows, confused. I wracked my brain trying to figure out who Louis was. “He said he’s a friend. You apparently met him at the Benefit? I told him you were out and didn’t know when you’d be back. He said to call him and left his number.” I looked at my crossed ankles. Oh, Louis. Wait, Louis took that picture of me and Harry. What does he want? “Do you know him?”

I looked back at Summer. “Yeah, he’s… he’s one of Harry’s friends.”

“You should probably call him, he looked in a rush.” I lifted my head in a nod, letting my eyes fall to the grass between us. A comfortable silence took over. “Y/N, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about whatever happened between you and… him. But I’m here for you if you do.”

“I know that, Summer. Thank you.”

I took a few steps into my room and tossed my purse onto my bed. I decided I should give Louis a call to see what’s going on.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Louis. It’s Y/N. I heard you stopped by today.”

“Oh!” He sounds surprised. His tone quickly hushed. “Y/N, thanks for calling. Yeah, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I sat in my desk chair with one leg tucked under me. “What’s going on?”

“Can you meet me?” There was a long pause.

“Wh – “

“In an hour, at the park by the white house.” Before I could respond, I heard the click of him hanging up.

What?

I didn’t take much time to get ready to meet Louis. I threw a gray zip up sweatshirt over my tank top and slipped on my flare jeans with converse and was on my way. Louis texted me to say he wanted to ask me a few questions about the benefit – for a promotion he was working on for his company.

The sun had set on my way over, the purple, black sky taking over the D.C air. I glanced at the sky as I stood by the lamp post in the park. The stars look beautiful tonight. My eyes kept traveling around the park. Something I was trained to do. Have your eyes everywhere at all times.

I heard him before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, deep breathing. He sounds troubled. I whipped my head in the opposite direction.

“Y/N?” He asked, pulling the hood off his head. I could only nod. “What are you doing here?”

“I – “ I was off the script. No earpiece with Thompson telling me what to do, who to be, anything. “Just out for a stroll.” Harry stared at me as if he wasn’t really seeing me. He shook his head, his long locks falling in front of his face. He ran his hand through his hair, pulling the pieces that had fallen from his face.

“By… the white house?” He asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I love this park. Very peaceful with some great views.” I concluded. Louis sent me here, he knows what he’s doing. He and Harry are longtime friends. They must’ve talked.

“Right…” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking around.

“I wanted to talk.” “We should talk.” We spoke at the same time. Our eyes locked before breaking into giggles and looking at our feet.

“You go ahead,” Harry encouraged.

“Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

“I –“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “How drunk was I that night?”

I blinked harshly, not expecting him to ask that. “What?”

“I don’t remember much after slamming my drink right before we left and…” He took a step away from me. “I was a little embarrassed and I wasn’t sure if I said or did anything wrong and… I thought if I held off for a bit then it wouldn’t be a big deal…”

“So why still didn’t you call?” Harry shook his head, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“You didn’t get my voicemail?” He quirked his head.

“What voicemail?”

“Y/N, I called you like three times.”

“What?” Then it hit me. Thompson. Thompson tapped my phone when starting the mission to have all the details. But why?

“I just kinda thought you were done with us and I had done something after the benefit.”

“Harry, I had no idea. Honest… Is that why you went out with Kendall?”

He laughed at my question. “I haven’t gone out with Kendall. I haven’t seen her in months. Those pictures are from like… November.” I was bewildered.

I composed myself before speaking, “I’m sorry to have assumed the worst…”

“It’s okay,” he stepped closer. “Can I come to your place?”

“Right now?”

He glanced at his feet and back to me, “Yeah.” He murmured. Only meaning to be heard between us two.

“Are you okay?” I tucked some stray hair behind my ear, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right.

“I just – I just don’t want to go back yet. I had to sneak out and I just need some time away.” Running one hand through his hair, he grabbed my hand with the other.

“Okay.”

The ride to my apartment was quiet. Harry didn’t say much about what was going on within the White House walls, although I’m sure I would find out come Monday, if not sooner. I was trying to read his moving eyes, but there wasn’t much to tell. His eyes told a completely different story than his lips.

His lips spoke of stress and hardship. His eyes shine like the moon over a Georgia river in the dead of night.

When I finally parked my car in the lot, Harry slid out of my car with grace, taking my hand as each of us rounded the back of my car.

“This is it,” I sighed when opening the door to my apartment.

“Wow,” He looked from the kitchen to the living room before turning to face me, “Cute.”

“Oh my gosh,” I whipped my head to see Ashlie coming into the entrance in a towel from the hallway – clearly not expecting company.

“Uh – Hi.” Harry awkwardly waved.

“Hi, wow. Wasn’t expecting you.” She gave a small smile and gestured to her attire.

“It’s not a problem. Nice to meet you,” Harry extended his hand for her, which she gladly took, “I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’m Ashlie.” Ashlie let out a flirty giggle. You know, the kind you hear at a bar when a girl is trying too hard to let a man know his jokes are ‘funny’.

“We’ll uh – be in my room.” I remarked, breaking up the awkwardness I could feel radiating through the room.

Harry trailed behind me, telling me he thought Ashlie seemed nice.

“How many roommates do you have?” He questioned, taking a seat on the foot of my bed.

“Two. My other roommate, Summer, is probably at her boyfriend’s.” I hung my hoodie over the back of my desk chair and took a seat on it backwards so I could face him. Harry nodded his head before letting his body fall back onto my bed. “So, what’s going on? At home?”

“It’s nothing,” He groaned, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“It’s obviously something if you’re sneaking out and wandering parks at night without guards. How’d you even get away with that anyways?”

“The White House has many escape routes that can’t be seen by the control room. I’ve found them all.” He stated, putting his hands behind his head.

“Interesting.” The silence that filled the room was deafening. “Harry,” I paused waiting for him to look at me. His eyes gradually found mine. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired of my family and the security telling me my behavior is ‘unacceptable’ because I’m the President’s son. I can’t go out with my friends. I can’t be seen with girls who are friends. I can’t have a drink in a bar.” He stood from my bed and started pacing around my room like his life depended on it. “When I’m in the White House, all I have is people barking orders in my ear, telling me what I can and can’t do. What I can and can’t wear. Who I can and can’t see? So, I guess,” Harry brought his hands to his head and started pulling his hair at the roots, “When I do get to go out with friends, I get carried away. Unfortunately, every time.”

I didn’t know what to say. What I want to say? I can relate. What can I say? Nothing.

When he moved to sit back on my bed, I joined him. He brought his chest between his knees and bowed his head, taking the stance of looking like he was about to vomit. I rested my hand on his back and tried my best to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades, still looking for the right words. “Harry, I’m sorry. I had no idea that was something you had to deal with.”

“I know, because I don’t share that part of my life. Not with anyone. The only one who really knows is Niall. But that’s only because he’s with me when I’m out and that’s when it all comes out.” He lifted his head and turned to look at me. “He’s the only person I really trust. He’s my best friend and I trust him with my life. I know it’s his job to be there. But, he’s the only one I really have.”

“That’s not true. You have loads of friends. I’ve seen them in the pictures with you.”

“No, those people – while they’re nice to hang out with – they only care about my status. They care about Harry Styles, President’s son. Not Harry.”

“I – I don’t know what to say.” And I truly didn’t. Here he is, spilling his heart to me again, and I can’t even reciprocate without blowing my cover.

“You don’t have to say anything. I thought Niall was the only person that actually cared about me. As in Harry, the person. And then I met you.”

“What do you mean?”

Harry sat up and turned his body towards mine, grabbing both my hands in his.

“Y/N, I know you would never do anything to hurt me. You care about me. You ask me about me, not what my family is doing, or what bills are going through congress. Or even try to advance your career through me.”

My mouth got dry, but I felt like I was drowning. How can he not see through this act? When will I give it up? When will Thompson have it cut? His eyes bore into mine.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“I – I like you too Harry.” I have to tell him; I have to tell him the girl he thinks he knows is not who she says she is. I have to tell him; this was all part of my job. But this isn’t. It’s not your job to be here with him right now.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” The proposition tore me from my thoughts. I got up and headed for the door, gesturing for him to follow me down the hall.

I plopped on the couch flipping the TV on. Harry sat next to me and flung his arm to the back of the couch behind me.

“Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?” He looked over to me, nodding excitedly.

We flipped through Netflix for 10 minutes before finally deciding on 27 Dresses. The movie was the only thing that could be heard in the living room. At whatever point, Harry let his arm fall onto my shoulders and pulled me into him. I let my head rest on his shoulder as we continued watching.

“Hey Y/N?” I looked up at him, humming in response. “I’m sober now.” I scrunched my eyebrows and opened my mouth to speak, “Can I kiss you now?” My heart sped up, and my cheeks warmed with the blood rushing to them.

“I - I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I let my head dip so I wasn’t looking at him.

“Why’s that?” He asked, confusion taking over his tone. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, but... I would really like to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I do. It’s just - “ I thought of all the things that could possibly go wrong - the FBI busting into my apartment to have me arrested, me starting what feels like a real relationship based on lies, breaking his heart after he let me in.

“Then let me,” Harry cupped my cheek and brought our gazes together. I stared at him for a moment before lightly nodding.

His lips ghosted over mine before gently pressing together. I swear I could hear his heartbeat. Or maybe it was mine. I rested my hand on his cheek and his hand moved to my waist, pulling me as close as possible. It wasn’t heavy, and it wasn’t quick. It was soft and sweet, like him.

He pulled away and leaned back into the couch. A smile graced his face. I nuzzled back into him and pulled my feet up on the couch.

I woke up to the room completely dark, the only light coming from the dim light above the oven. I was still laying on Harry. I sat up, removing his arms from my waist. I grabbed my phone from the table to check the time. 2:36am. Oh shit, I turned back to wake Harry.

“Harry, Harry wake up. You have to go.” I shook him out of his sleep.

“What why?” He stirred, rubbing his eyes, barely coming out of his sleep.

“It’s 2:36AM.”

“Mmmmm comfy.” He closed his eyes again and rested further into the couch.

“Harry, no. You’re gonna get into trouble.” I stood up and grabbed his hands trying to pull him off the couch.

“No, I won’t”

“Harry,” I insisted. When he wouldn’t budge, I gave up. Flopping back into the couch.

“Can I just stay – you won’t even know I was here.”

I woke up in my bed. I looked at my clock next to me. 9:22am. Was it a dream? I sat up, same tank top. Same jeans. I searched for my phone to find it under my pillow with a sticky note.

Left around 5. Carried you to bed and didn’t want to wake you. Call me. – Harry

Sticking my phone in my back pocket, I pulled myself out of bed and let my feet guide me to the bathroom. What did I do? Why did I have to do that?

After staring at myself for almost two minutes, I decided to call Harry.

“Hello?” his voice was chipper.

“How’d you get home?” I asked, putting the call on speaker so I could wash my face.

“I took an Uber. I woke up to one missed call and one text from Niall asking if I was in my room from around 2. I figured it’d be best if I was back in the house before sunrise and not let anyone get suspicious.” At least he was thoughtful of other peoples’ sleep schedules.

“Ah, alright.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you wanted me to call you?” I stated, remembering his note.

“Oh, yeah! I’m picking you up for breakfast.” He said, I could feel his smile through the phone. Man does this boy get right back on the love train; I swear.

“You? Or Niall?” I teased, breaking into a smile. I grabbed my washcloth and wet it to begin washing my face.

“Ha ha. Funny. No, me. Just you, me, and some delicious breakfast.” He clarified. Should I tell Thompson? Probably.

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes.” We said goodbye and felt my heart beating faster. I quickly texted Thompson to let him know what was happening. I started the shower and dropped my clothes. Washing everything quickly, I felt my nerves beginning to settle in. Should I even have said yes? What if Thompson doesn’t want me to? Too late.

When I got out, I checked my phone for a response.

Thompson – 9:37am: Earpiece.

He really was a man of few words. Powerful words, but few. I quickly blew dry my hair and changed into some leggings and a ¾ sleeve blouse. Finishing putting on some light makeup, I heard a knock on the front door.

“Harry!” Ashlie exclaimed, “Good to see you again.”

I walked out to see Harry looking awkwardly at her. She was asking how everything was going for him, to which he politely smiled and said “Fine, Thanks.” His eyes lit up when they connected with mine.

“Hey, you.” He smiled, pulling me in for a hug

“Hi,” I greeted, returning his smile and accepting his arms around me.

“Ready?”

‘Let me just grab my purse,” I said, backing away down the hallway towards my room. I quickly grabbed the earpiece from my drawer and inserted it into my ear. I grabbed my purse from my desk and started heading back to our entryway. I paused in the doorway, glancing at my open drawer with my pistol sticking out. I slipped it into my purse before returning to Harry. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ashlie moved to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast, taking peeks over her shoulder at Harry. She shot me a wink as Harry opened the front door to lead us out.

When we were settled in the car, Harry turned to me. “First things first, I wanted to say thank you to you. For last night. And I’m sorry if I was intruding.”

“You weren’t,” I reassured him, “You never are.” As I finished my sentence, I heard the static in my earpiece. Thompson’s on.

“Morning superstar. I don’t know what happened last night, but good job getting him back.” If only he knew.

Harry turned on the radio for our drive. As we drove further out of the city, he told me how he loved some of the neighborhoods we were driving by. Mostly because he had friends living there that he made when we were in high school because Mr. Styles would often bring him to D.C., and he would meet other congressmen’s children.

I laughed at his jokes, and when he sang. Frankly, he can’t sing. But he does a very nice job trying.

When we pulled up to the café, I noticed it was quite small. Niall hadn’t brought us here on our previous brunch meetings.

“Where are we?” I questioned.

“Oh, my dad used to take me here in high school. I don’t get to come too often anymore. Ya know, security and everything.”

Right.

Breakfast went exactly how I thought it would. Harry talked about his life, asked me about mine, and Thompson fed me lines that apparently “Niall had done ‘research’, and this is what Harry wants to hear.”

But this time, when I laughed with Harry, I felt more genuine. My feelings were too. I really liked him. He was kind, generous, thoughtful. Everything a good man acted like.

When he dropped me off, Harry walked me to my door. I didn’t hesitate to kiss his cheek. Harry grabbed my hands and squeezed them.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” He glanced at his feet, letting a grin bless his features with his dimples showing perfectly. I nodded, squeezing his hands back. He pulled me into him for a hug. I wrapped my arms around his waist, not wanting to let go.

“Bye, Harry.” I opened the door when he let go of me.

“Bye, Y/N.”

The next week felt like it flew by. I would see Harry after work, either for dinner, a drink, a movie, a walk, really anything he could think of to see me.

Thompson would be in my ear, encouraging me. Sometimes he wasn’t, those were my favorite nights with Harry. I could be myself without having to worry about if Thompson thought ‘Well that wasn’t the right thing to say.”

My phone ringing brought me out of my sleep. I looked at the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello?” I greeted, rubbing the sleep from my left eye.

“Can you come over?” Harry asked, his voice cracking near the end. I pulled the phone away from my ear. 1:11am. After a pause he added, “Please?” The desperation in his voice was almost tangible. A shiver ran down my spine just hearing his broken voice.

“Yeah, of course.” I threw my covers off of me and grabbed my nearest pair of jeans. I pulled them on and picked up one of Harry’s long sleeve t-shirts and ripped it over my head. “I’ll be there in 15.”

“Thank you,” he sobbed. “I can let you in by the east garden.” I hung up my phone and hesitated to grab my keys. I should take an Uber. Guards would see my car parked near the White House. I opened the Uber app and ordered a car.

“Morning ma’am.” Said Andrew, the driver.

“Morning,” I grumbled, climbing in the backseat.

“How was your night?” he asked, smiling at me through the rearview mirror.

“Could be better,” I sighed, rubbing my fingers into my temples.

“Oh, I totally get it,” he started. Andrew talked almost the entire way about his night. When he dropped me on the corner a block away from the White House, he concluded his rant with “And that’s when I kicked him out. Well, I hope your night gets better! Life’s too short to have bad sex.” I gave him the best smile I could muster and got out of his car.

I walked up the street and crossed through an alley to get to the East garden. I saw a sliver of light coming from a shrub. The sliver of light grew bigger, giving away that it was actually a door. A disheveled Harry appeared in the light. As I got closer, I noticed his eyes were red and puffy. He’s been crying. When I was close enough, he instantly crashed his body into mine, holding me so tight I might combust.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” I asked, cuddling him closer. He let out a choked weep. “Come on, let’s go.” I said, pulling away. He grabbed my hand and led us through the tunnels.

When we got to the halls, Harry looked around every corner, checking for guards before sneaking us to his room. The door clicked shut and the only thing I could hear were his soft sniffles. I took in the room before me. It was large and decorated for a king. There were items scattered, a chair tipped over, and a lamp lay broken on the floor next to his bed.

He took a seat on the edge of his bed, lowering his head with his hands covering his face. I walked over and took a seat next to him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and took another look around.

“Harry,” I whispered. “What happened?”

“He’s so disappointed in me.” He mumbled, barely audible. His body shook with sobs, soft enough to go unnoticed by anyone passing by.

“Who? Your dad?”

“He said his approval rate has barely gone up, and when he asked the cabinet about it, they – they told him it was my fault.” My heart broke at his words.

“Harry, I’m so – “

“He doesn’t get it. No one does,” he ripped himself from my grasp and stood in front of me, facing the door. “I have him, his cabinet, members of the staff, media, friends, everyone constantly yelling at me. Just because I want to go out and be normal. Live a normal life.” He was facing me now, arms flailing around to get his point across. “And as soon as I get something right, it’s not good enough!”

“What do you mean?” I inquired. I stood up and placed my hands on his shoulders, leading him back to sit down. “Talk to me.”

“You,” he stated as if it was obvious. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been trying to better myself. Not go out as much, get away from the crowd that only talked to me because they want something. I haven’t had any interest in doing that because – well. I want to be the best man I can. For you.”

I stood straight at his confession. I was left speechless. I took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground in front of him. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing what to say.

“Harry, I – I’m proud of you for doing all of that.”

“Well I’m glad someone is,” he exclaimed. He threw himself back onto his bed and covered his face with his hands.

I got up and sat next to him, criss crossing my legs. I grabbed his hands from his face and held them.

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you too. He just doesn’t know how to say it.” I tried to assure him.

“Yeah because ‘if you would’ve kept the clean image like I told you to’ screams ‘I’m proud of you.” He groaned. He grasped my hands and brought them to his chest.

“Well, let’s think about this. Your dad is the President. He has a lot of people to answer to, and I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress.” I explained to him, rubbing circles on the backs of his hands

“I know, I know. But like, there’s a way to talk to your kids.”

“Yeah, and I’m not saying how he handled it was correct. I’m just saying, from his perspective, he’s probably not mad. Just frustrated. And I’m sure he’s proud of you for trying to better yourself.” I paused, glancing at the door. “Maybe you should just talk to him about how this experience has been for you. I know you haven’t and that might help him to better understand where you’re coming from.” I concluded.

“You’re right. I should probably try to talk to him in private.”

“Wanna hear a joke?” He nodded, cracking a small smile. “What did the drummer name his daughters? Anna one, anna two!” His giggle filled the quiet room, a chuckle left my own lips. He pulled me down, so my head was resting on his chest.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He tucked my hair behind my ear and caressed his hand down my cheek.

“I’ve been told,” I joked, returning the smile he gave me.

“No, I’m serious,” He looked at the ceiling before continuing, “You give really good advice that makes me think from another perspective, and you can make me laugh even when it feels like my world is crashing - not even two minutes ago.” He glanced back down at me. My eyes never leaving his face.

We stayed like this for a while. Talking about life, things we believed in, conspiracy theories, the best type of pasta (Tortellini was unanimously voted), everything.

Harry walked me back to the East Garden entrance around 3:00am.

“Are you sure you can’t stay the night? Niall can just drop you off in the morning.” He tried one last time.

“I’m sure, Harry.” I let out a quiet laugh. “But hey – maybe we should just keep this between us two? I don’t want to get any weird looks from m –“ I stopped myself before the words ‘my coworkers’ escaped my lips, “your guards.”

“Of course, don’t worry.” He kissed my forehead and watched as I waited for my Uber. Occasionally throwing out pick-up lines. My favorite being ‘Are you a time traveler? Because I can see you in my future’ I casually waved as the Uber pulled up.

“Y/N?” She asked. I nodded and opened the door. I took one last look towards the entrance, seeing just the crack of light, knowing Harry was watching through it.

The next few weeks continued like this. Harry sneaking out to my house, and me to his. Each time learning new secret passages that brings me to his wing, or his room. It got to be exciting, really. Seeing Harry without Thompson in my ear. I had somehow convinced him to keep Niall out of the loop of our late-night meetings. But, of course, going on public outings was a different story. Niall would be waiting in a blacked-out SUV, I had my earpiece in, and I had to give Harry lines fed from Thompson every other sentence.

Sitting in Thompson’s office was something I should be used to by now. However, ever since Harry and I began having our midnight rendezvous, I had been anxious every time Thompson was even so much as in the same building. Although Harry and I haven’t so much as kissed since that night in my apartment, every time I saw him, I could feel the sexual tension radiating off him like I was standing next to a bonfire. He was waiting for me to make the first move, which I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. It would put so much more confusion into this already sticky situation.

Harry has grown into my friend. Of course, there was romantic interest. But I couldn’t jeopardize my cover. To him, I was Y/N Y/L/N. Marketing director for Accent. Small town girl from Carolina. I went to college for Business. I have my mom and two younger brothers back home who encouraged me to follow my dreams and move to D.C. If he knew who I really was. We could never have a relationship. If he knew I was being paid to play his romantic interest, things would never be real for us.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Thompson’s serious tone tore me from my thoughts, “We’re aware that things have gone swimmingly since Mr. Styles had picked you up for breakfast a couple weeks ago. But how are you?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed. “I’m well. He seems to be just fine. Hasn’t been as much in the spotlight. And the press - ”

“Miss. Y/L/N,” His tone lightened a bit. Thompson clasped his hands on his desk and softened his eyes toward me. I locked eyes with him as he continued. “Y/N, how are you doing?” His question took me by surprise. Thompson is always business. Hard-core authoritarian and never cares about sick days, let alone mental health days. He didn’t care if you were vomiting on the curb, you better show up for duty.

“I – What?” I asked, bewildered. My jaw fell slack, and I prayed he couldn’t hear my thoughts.

“Y/N, I know this must be extremely hard on you. I know I asked a lot of you when I assigned you to this. I want to be sure you’re doing okay. You two spend a lot of time together and I know how charming he is. I’ve met him on several occasions.” He chuckled, pushing his chair back and coming to sit next to me.

I turned toward him and put on a poker face. “Mr. Thompson, I know the longevity of this mission, and I know what a great deal of stress this is putting on everyone involved as well.” I couldn’t help it, I let my face fall into one of agitation. “But when I’m with him, I can’t help but think of how real it is for him. How would he feel if he knew that my interest is just a hoax? That it’s part of my job description to play this part?”

Thompson moved out of his chair and moved to the windows that looked out into the office. He took his time shutting the blinds before he came to sit in front of me on his desk.

“Y/N,” He started, the unease in his voice was something new. “I know your concern for his emotions is genuine. It’s part of why I hired you. You fully invest in what you’re doing. And that’s a trait that’s hard to come by nowadays. But I also hired you because I know how tough you are. You don’t let people push you around. You’ve truly shown your character with this.”

He took a long glance out the window at the cars driving down the 695. Did he have children? I never asked. We weren’t supposed to ask our superiors about their personal lives. The office and field were strictly professional.

“The unfortunate part of our jobs, is the mere fact that everyone we interact with, is part of our job. Whether it’s a civilian on the street, or the Queen of England. We’re on guard the whole time. Take Niall for instance.” He finally brought his gaze back to mine. “Niall is the closest we have to getting inside Mr. Styles head. To understand his motives and how he may be putting a risk to himself. That’s where we come in.”

“I don’t under – “

“Like Niall, we have Joe. Joe is the head of security for President Styles. President Styles may not understand what we’re doing at the time. But always comes to thank us later.”

“Mr. Thompson,” I let the confusion slide onto my face. “With all due respect, I don’t understand how this relates.”

“What I’m saying Y/N, is that, even though it may not seem like it, we do have Mr. Styles’ best interest at heart. But to do that, we need to be on the inside as well.”

I left Thompson’s office feeling even more anxious than before I entered. The phone ringing in my pocket halted my movements. Harry was trying to FaceTime me. I took a sharp right and entered the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me.

“Hey,” I greeted him through the screen. He was in a car, driving. His sunglasses were pulled onto his head, pushing his chocolate locks out of his face.

“Hi! Oh – I’m sorry. You’re at work, aren’t you?” He apologized.

“Oh – yeah,” I fibbed. I hated this. I wanted to scream how I didn’t work at Accent and haven’t the slightest clue what marketing strategies were. You’re in too deep at this point, slick.

“How about I come pick you up for lunch? I can say hi to Rich.” He excitedly proposed.

“I can’t today, I’m sorry. I – uh” Think Y/N, think. “I’m actually in a business meeting with a prospect. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. What’re you doing tonight?” He didn’t even seem fazed. He had grown used to my typical 9-5 day. That was actually midnight to midnight and being on call over the weekends. I, technically, was always working.

“I think Ashlie was cooking some homemade eggplant Parmesan. What’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over tonight. Maybe watch a movie with some popcorn?” He gave a light smirk, before turning it into a full grin.

“I could be up for that. After dinner?”

“Do you want me to send a car to get you? Or would you like to sneak in as usual?” There was a hint of annoyance laced in his voice. He seemed to be getting tired of sneaking around.

“I can get myself there,” I stifled a laugh, trying to lighten his mood. “East Garden?”

“Yeah, okay.” I felt bad, that I couldn’t just stroll up to the main doors of the white house. But what security didn’t know didn’t hurt us. Well, me.

I arrived at the East Garden at 8:58, Harry was waiting with the door slightly cracked, as he had continuously done throughout our little meetings.

“Hey, ninja,” He smirked.

“Ninja?” I giggled as he pulled me into a hug. He rested his head atop mine, arms around my waist.

“Yeah, I think it suits you.” He snickered.

“If only you knew,” I whispered. I pulled away, “Shall we?” He reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers. Something I had grown accustomed to.

We settled in his room, laying back on the pillows. He pulled me into his chest as The Notebook started.

“Hey Y/N?” He gingerly murmured into my hair. Feeling the day weigh on my eyelids, I offered a hum in response. “How much do you. Ya know, like me?”

My eyes flew open at the question. My heart shook my toes with how hard it was beating. “What do you mean?” Trying to keep my voice even, I tilted my head to look up at him.

“Like, we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now, so I was just wondering like.” He grabbed my left hand and gave it a squeeze, “What are we doing?”

“Harry I – “ I took a deep breath. You knew it was coming. Play stupid. “I don’t follow.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I sat up and turned to him, criss crossing my legs. “Harry, as much as I care about you,” The words were harder to get out than anticipated. “I really enjoy what we have going on. And, I mean, with your status. I’m nervous about it … blowing up. Does that make sense?” I shook my head at his disapproving eyes. My voice started to waver as I continued, “I’m sorry, I just. I know how nasty the media can be and…”

Harry bolted up, grabbing my face ready to wipe any tears that could fall. “Hey, I don’t want you to apologize. I just, I don’t know. I feel like you don’t want to be seen with me or something. Even around my own house…” his voice trailed as he looked down at his own legs.

I took the opportunity to grab his hands, rubbing circles into their backs. “Harry, I promise that I really care about you. I just, I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Okay, I understand.” His gaze peered back up to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to pressure you. I would just really love to show off the woman that has stolen my heart.” I stole his heart and felt mine drop. “Will you let me know when you are?” I could only nod. “Come on, let’s lay back down. I love this movie.”

I don’t know when Harry fell asleep. His soft snores filled the room long before the movie ended. I couldn’t move, but I had to get out of here. I had to tell Thompson I couldn’t do it anymore. I checked my phone for the time. 4:27. I have to go home. I carefully unhooked Harry’s hand from mine. I gathered my things from his desk before spotting a notepad. I glanced over at the sleeping boy. You at least owe him the courtesy to write him a note that you were leaving. He’s done the same before.

I scribbled a simple “Couldn’t sleep, call me tomorrow. - Y/N” On the paper before putting it next to him on the bed.

I cracked the door open as quietly as possible and stuck my head through the crack, looking for any potential sign of life. I slid my body through the door and shut it as lightly as possible. I ran my hands down my face and started down the hall.

“Y/N?” I froze as I was about to round the corner. I slowly turned around to find a confused Niall standing at the other end of the hall. He took several glances between me and Harry’s door. “What are you doing here?” His tone was cold.

“Niall, I – I didn’t think you’d be roaming the halls this early in the morning.” I tried to laugh it off while taking several strides towards him.

He stared at me dumbfounded. “Does Thompson know you’re here?” He took my blank expression as an answer. “So how long has this been going on?”

“Niall, it’s not what it seems.” I defended.

“No, you’re just sneaking over to the WHITE HOUSE in the middle of the night for no reason. Not to hook up with Harry?”

“Niall, it’s really not like that!” I raised my voice slightly.

“Then tell me what it’s like Y/N. You know this could jeopardize the mission!” Niall raised his voice higher than mine. Not seeming to care if other guards heard him.

“I’m being his friend, Niall!” I cried. ‘That’s all.”

“Being his friend?” He asked bemused. “I don’t think FRIENDS do what you’re doing, Y/N.” His voice lower this time.

“Niall, I’m just trying to do the best I can! There’s no precedent for stuff like this! He calls, I answer. If he asks me to be there for him, I am. Like three weeks ago when he had an all-out meltdown!” My hands swung from my sides, to cover my face.

“That’s my job Y/N, not yours. I’m the one he calls to handle situations like that.” He stated the obvious, raising his eyebrows. He spoke almost as if he was telling a three-year-old that they couldn’t jump off the monkey bars because they could get hurt.

“Yeah, Niall. I know it’s your job. But have you been doing it? Are you really his friend and have you been handling it?” I countered his argument. If Niall was the one to handle situations like that, then why did Harry call me instead?

“Y/N, I leave him alone when he gets like that. When he’s ready to talk, he does. I think I know him a little better than you.” Niall crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, and his voice was ear-piercingly serious.

“Do you, Niall? Do you really? You may know about everything he’s going through professionally, but –“ I took a deep breath, composing myself so my voice was even. “Do you even know the real him? The sensitive Harry that talks about how hard this life is?” I paused taking in Niall’s cold expression

“How about the Harry that’s favorite color is yellow, or that he loves rom coms because they always end happily? Or what about the Harry that’s just trying to cope because this isn’t the lifestyle he planned or hoped for? Do you even know him Niall?” My voice crippled as I finished my rant.

Niall doesn’t know him. Niall knows what he needs to know so he can report to Thompson at the end of the week. Trouble he got into, bars he went to, where the paparazzi who photographed his every move worked so they can get the pictures back from his blacked-out adventures.

“Miss. Y/L/N,” Niall’s voice was too evenly keeled. “At least I know my place, when it comes to my job. Unlike you, who has no issues crossing clear boundaries. I will be pleased to inform Mr. Thompson of your little rendezvous with Mr. Styles this evening.” He turned his back before flicking his face over his shoulder, “And I’m sure we can find out about all the others as well.”

“What?” Niall froze in his tracks; I was too afraid to turn around. “What’s going on?”

I turned to find a red-faced Harry standing in the doorway to his bedroom.

“Harry,” our voices came in unison.

“You – Niall. Mr. Thompson?” The confusion took its rightful place on his face. “This,” Harry glanced at his sock clad feet. “This was a set up?” I couldn’t find the words to defend myself. “How did you – when were you – “ The unfinished questions never left his lips.

“Harry, I can explain.” My voice was thick. It almost hurt to get the words out. If I didn’t vomit when explaining to him why I like the privacy, it was sure about to come up now.

“You both… you both…” another unfinished question. He shut his door behind him and started walking in the opposite direction of both Niall and me. I gave a desperate glance to Niall, who quickly motioned for me to follow him.

“Go, you should talk to him.” His voice was soft. We both knew this wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. “Better you than me right now.”

I jogged to catch up to Harry. “Harry wait,” I called reaching out for his hand. He quickly swiped it from my grip and quickened his pace. “Harry, please let me explain!” I cried.

“Explain what?” He growled, stopping in his tracks. I stopped just before I crashed into him and took a step back. “Explain how you can go about your day just - just lying to me? About everything? Making me feel these things for you?” His voice was exceptionally hard, barely able to detect the hurt laced through.

“Harry, I’m sorry,” I whispered. ”I – “

“Sorry for what.” He barked, whipping around to face me. “Sorry for making me trust you, or sorry for getting caught in your big scheme.” His words rifled through me like he took an AR-15 to my heart. You should’ve known this could be the outcome. “Whatever you’re sorry for, I don’t want to hear it. See yourself out, I’m done.”

His shoulder bumped me as he walked past. I turned to watch him go back down the hall and around the corner back to his room. I remained motionless when I heard his door slam shut. I felt the wetness of a single tear rolling down my cheek and quickly raised my hand to wipe it away.

How could you have been so stupid, Y/N?

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pretchatta · 3 years

Text

prompt: holiday

dave said it's my turn to write a moons of rion fic

rating: teen; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 2.4k words

---

The Outer Rim planet of Rion was a tropical paradise. Beaches, bars and breathtaking views covered its surface, and the sight of the planet in the forward viewport made Kanan sigh with longing. So close, and yet so far.

It felt like he and Hera had been working non-stop for the past year. Between keeping the Ghost in fuel, the galley stocked, and working other (less well-paid, but Hera would argue more important) jobs, Kanan would like nothing more than to spend a few hours relaxing somewhere – anywhere – with Hera. They were something now; more than simply captain and crew, but exactly what that was Kanan hadn’t had time to find out.

He wouldn’t any time soon, either. This mission wasn’t even taking them to Rion itself, but to one of its moons. A quick pickup and then they’d fly straight back to Lothal to deliver it, get paid, and then move onto the next job.

Kanan sighed. “Remind me what the cargo is for this one?”

“I don’t know,” Hera replied absently as she steered the Ghost in an orbital path around Rion. Their destination appeared from behind the planet, the oceanic moon a deep blue colour dotted with small green-and-white islands. Just beyond it, its populated twin was also visible. “Vizago paid extra for discretion, but he didn’t offer me the dangerous goods fee, so I assume it’s at least safe.”

Kanan grimaced. “We’re relying on the integrity of a smuggler. I feel so reassured.”

“We need the credits, love. We’ve barely got enough fuel to make this delivery.” Hera gave the fuel gauge a worried look as the Ghost entered the moon’s atmosphere and they began their descent. Below them, taking up most of one of the smaller islands, Kanan could see a landing platform growing larger.

Hera touched the Ghost down with barely a bump. Had Kanan not realised months ago that his days of drifting were behind him, he knew he would find it very difficult to return to his old lifestyle. There were several comforts that came from crewing on the Ghost, the smooth landings being just one.

“Alright, let’s load up and get going.” Hera hit the ramp controls and led the way out of the cockpit.

Spaceport was a generous term for what greeted them outside. The battered landing platform was barely large enough for two ships, even though it took up most of the solid ground on the island, and the only permanent structure was a dilapidated single-storey hut. It looked like it was cobbled together from scrap, with the exception of the shiny solar panels stretched over the roof and the comm dish mounted haphazardly on one wall.

There were no windows, but the front door stuttered open as Kanan and Hera emerged from the Ghost. An ancient-looking prototype droid emerged, hobbling out towards them with slow, fitful steps.

“Welcome to landing site R-M2-S04,” it called out to them. Its mechanical voice was decidedly tinny. “I am C0-R4, the overseer droid for this location. Thank you for leaving your transponder on. Your ship has been identified as the Ghost.”

Droid-supervised transactions weren’t uncommon in their line of work. The handoffs were usually in remote locations like this one, and it was much cheaper to leave a droid to wait around than an organic being.

“We’re here to pick up Vizago’s shipment,” Hera told the droid.

“That is correct.” C0-R4 gave a jerky nod. “Your cargo will arrive in two days.”

“What?” Hera exclaimed. “Two days! We were told to come today, and that this job was time-critical!”

“Cikatro Vizago apologises for the unavoidable delay, but he understands that you have a fast ship.”

Hera glared at the droid, though Kanan knew her ire was in fact directed at their unreliable employer. “And what exactly are we supposed to do for the next two days?”

“I am not programmed for leisure itinerary planning,” it replied in its monotone. “I will be in low power mode until the shipment arrives. Good day.”

With that, the protocol droid turned and hobbled back into its hut. Hera stared after it in disbelief. Kanan, meanwhile, felt hope blooming in his chest.

“I know you’d rather get on with the job,” he said slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral, “but given our fuel situation, it looks like we’re staying in this system for the next two days. And since Rion’s right there…”

She turned to him with one eyebrow raised. His face must have shown more than he realised, because her eyes softened with sympathy.

“Kanan, I’d love to spend a few days on Rion with you, but we don’t have enough fuel to get there,” she said apologetically. “We barely have enough to take off and make it back to Lothal.”

Kanan was not deterred. “Okay, what about the Phantom? It has a separate fuel tank – we could take it to one of the resorts, stay for a few days and be back in time for the pickup.”

Hera shook her head. “I should probably siphon the Phantom’s fuel into the Ghost. We’re going to need it if we want the extra speed to make Vizago’s deadline.”

Kanan sighed. The captain's decision was final. “Fine. I guess we’re sitting here for two days eating stale rations. Hopefully the Ghost’s water purifier can handle the seawater.”

“Wait, rations? Don’t we have enough food?”

“We might have a couple dehydrated meal packs, but I was going to stock up when we got back to Lothal.”

Hera frowned. “I guess this is going to be a long two days.”

“It doesn’t have to be…” Kanan’s mind was racing as a new idea formed in his head. “Could you leave just enough fuel in the Phantom to make one trip to the other moon? It’s populated, and it’ll take less fuel to take off from because of the lower gravity. And right now it’s closer than Rion itself. I still have a few credits – not enough for fuel, but we could pick up some supplies, and then spend the next two days just relaxing here. It’s not exactly a luxury resort getaway, but it’s better than nothing.”

Hera looked unconvinced. “I don’t know…”

“Come on, Hera, we’ll still be able to make the delivery,” he pleaded. “And this way we can enjoy a few days of downtime! We’ve got nothing else to do, and it’s not like we’re going to get any trouble from the Empire out here.”

He could see her resolve wavering, and then–

“Okay, fine.”

Kanan resisted the urge to punch the air as she turned to walk back up the Ghost’s ramp.

“Chopper,” she called up to the cockpit, “work out the best course to the other moon, and be nice to the navicomputer this time! Then I want you to initiate a fuel transfer from the Phantom to the Ghost. Leave enough to make the trip to the other moon, Kanan and I will be going on a supply run when we get back.”

The old astromech blatted a question back at her from somewhere above them. Hera looked back at Kanan.

“We’re going for a walk,” she replied. “You’d hate it, you’d just get sand in your joints.”

Chopper made a rude noise, which Hera ignored.

“A romantic stroll along the beach, huh?” Kanan said, putting an arm around her waist.

“If we’re doing this, I should at least try to relax, and it seems like a good start.” Her arms snaked over his shoulders and around his neck, allowing him to pull her closer. Their noses brushed, lips an inch apart, but Kanan turned his head at the last moment to kiss her cheek instead.

“In that case…” he murmured against her earcone, and then dropped to his knees in front of her and gently lifted one of her knees. Hera complied, allowing him to raise her foot and slip her boot off it.

“You’re overdressed,” he continued. “Unlike Chopper, we can enjoy the feeling of sand between our toes.”

He finished removing her other boot, and looked up to see her smiling fondly down at him. He quickly shed his own boots, leaving both pairs just inside the cargo hold, and as an afterthought added his gloves. Hera did the same, allowing Kanan to take her bare hand and lead them back outside.

The beach was only a few steps away, and they strolled leisurely over the sun-warmed sand towards the brilliant blue water. Above, the odd fluffy white cloud floated in the teal-blue sky as the late afternoon sun shone down on the island. A faint breeze blew in from the sea, cooling the air and bringing with it the smell of salt.

Kanan ran his thumb over the back of Hera’s hand as a sense of calmness washed through him. Hera was right; the walk was a great idea. The sand was soft under his feet and with every step he could feel his body relaxing.

They stopped at the water’s edge, letting the waves lap at their toes. The water wasn’t exactly warm, but neither was it cold. They stood there for a few moments in comfortable silence, enjoying the tranquility.

Hera bumped her shoulder against Kanan’s. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t think I would have let myself have a break if I’d been on my own, but… I needed this.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock astonishment. “Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You were right, dear.”

He smirked, and then leaned down to kiss her. She rose onto her toes to meet him. As with every time their lips met, Kanan felt a jolt of electricity through his stomach; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to kissing Hera Syndulla.

They resumed their walk, following the coastline. Doing a full circuit of the island wouldn’t take long. As far as Kanan could tell, there was no wildlife on this moon, but the lapping of the waves and the slide of their feet over the sand made for a perfect soundtrack.

“So, do you have anything in particular you want to pick up on this supply run?” Hera asked him.

“I thought we could get some fancy caf,” he replied, “y’know, since we're on holiday. And then something simple to eat that we could have on the beach.”

“That sounds good to me.”

He turned to give her a look. “We may be on a budget, but I like to eat out.”

She only managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before laughing.

They were distracted from further conversation by a wide rock formation on the far side of the landing platform. Several meters tall at its highest point, it looked like it was made up of numerous pillars of dark stone, jutting upwards out of the ground and ending in flat, irregular shapes. The lower ones around the edge held small pools of water from the last high tide, but they were taller towards the middle and beyond a certain point the tops were smooth and dry. The beach continued around the edge, the sand stretching between the rocks and the sea, but the Ghost and the overseer droid’s hut were hidden from view.

They approached the rocks with interest. Kanan was only half-aware of Hera’s hand slipping out of his as he went to examine one of the rockpools and so didn't notice the mischievous look that had come over her face. By the time he realised she was no longer beside him, she had already removed the outer layer of her flight suit and folded neatly atop one of the dry pillars. He could only watch, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as she quickly and methodically worked on the rest of her clothing.

Hera carefully added her cap and goggles to the pile she had formed and then looked up at him. His heart beat faster at the sight of so much bare green skin. With a coy smile, she held his gaze as she slipped her underwear off and let it join the rest of her clothes.

“Fancy a swim?”

She didn’t wait for an answer; Kanan wasn’t sure he was capable of giving one. She turned and ran over the beach, lekku streaming behind her, splashing into the water until it was up to her neck.

She turned back to him and yelled “Well? Are you coming?”

It was enough to jolt him out of his shock. He’d left his armour behind today, so his shirt came off easily. The rest of his clothes followed in a somewhat messier pile than Hera’s, but creases weren’t on the forefront of his mind at that moment.

Kanan took off at a sprint towards the sea. When he was about halfway to the water he leapt, giving himself an extra push that made it higher and further than a leap any ordinary human should have been able to make. Tucking his knees into his chest in mid-air, he hit the surface with a splash, sending a wall of water over Hera. The cool water enveloped his body with swirls of white and blue. He kicked at the sandy sea bed to surface next to Hera, who was sputtering in protest.

Kanan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“You did invite me in,” he reminded her. His sodden hair was slicked back against his head and water dripped from the end of his nose. Further droplets ran over Hera's bare head and down her lekku, adding to the patterns already there.

“I didn’t ask for a tsu–”

He cut off her complaints with a wet kiss. She relaxed in his arms a second later, though he knew he had’t gotten away with it; she’d be planning her payback for later. He smiled against her lips and felt her mouth curve upwards in response. It really had been too long since they’d been able to just let go like this, to enjoy their time together and not have any pressing worries or responsibilities.

The kiss deepened, and Hera’s legs wound around his waist. Whoever's idea this had been, he thought to himself, it was definitely a good one.

#kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #holiday #swoonjune2021 #moons of rion #star wars rebels #sw rebels #kanan x hera #star wars: rebels #pretchwritta #swoon june #fic #swfic #kanera

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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years

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hi Shanna!! as a consistent content creator, how do you motivate yourself to keep writing fics? are you ever nervous about posting a new story/idea/outline? do you ever think like ‘ah this is overdone so i just shouldn’t’? (i have a mean inner voice i admit)

i’m playing around with the idea of creating more of an online presence but it’s so nerve-wracking! and the motivation to do it consistently is really hard too. i’m also really nervous about the privacy aspect of it all. ik you don’t post a lot about your personal life, but how do you know where to draw the line? do you have any advice for someone who wants to be seen but is afraid of opening up? :’)

Hello, anon! I'm going to do my best to answer all your questions, so bear with me -- breaking them all down below the cut :)

1. How do I motivate myself to keep writing fics?

I think this has changed over the course of my blog's journey. When I first started writing and didn't have many followers (it took me about nine months - 1 year to reach 5K), I kept myself motivated by taking requests, utilizing writing prompts and joining networks to participate in network events. Honestly, the best advice I can give a new blog is: post frequently and on a clear schedule. At the start of my blog, I posted every four days (smaller chapters than what I write now), and gradually grew my base. Now though, my motivation tends to come from taking on new challenges and trying to better my content. I want to continue improving and providing fun material for readers, so that's usually what motivates me as I plan a new fic. Positive responses and interactions from readers are also key.

2. Am I ever nervous about positing a new story/idea/outline?

Yes. Always LOL. It never gets easier, to be honest. In my experience, my worries about writing have changed, but not disappeared. I tend to write a broad array of genres and styles, so it's always a risk that the new thing I write won't resonate with my readers. When I first began posting, my main worry was that no one would read. Now, it's that people will read, and they'll hate it. LOL I've just kind of reconciled myself to this fact.

3. Do I ever think "ah this is overdone, so I just shouldn't'?

Mmm I have had this thought, but it usually isn't one of my main worries. Honestly, you can break down pretty much any story into predictable pieces. That doesn't mean you shouldn't write it. No one has ever written that trope, or that AU with your voice before, and that's what you have to keep reminding yourself.

4. How do I draw the line with my personal life?

OOF. This is something which took me awhile to figure out. I used to be much more open on my blog, but I've gradually had to create some hard limits. To be blunt, I now view this blog as a place where I post fanfiction, and not my personal space. I occasionally share personal info (books I read, photos of my dog, responding to things friends tag me in), but for the most part, I only share what's relevant to my writing. Limits on your blog should be whatever's comfortable for you. I know other blogs are comfortable being viewed as a personality/writer, but that's not really something which appeals to me. Of course, I'm glad when people like me (duh, I'm human), but I prefer to keep my personal life separate. I don't talk about my job, employer, location, background, or people in my real life who don't have a Tumblr. I think the best way to figure these limits out for yourself is by trial and error! Based on your questions, if sounds as though you may benefit from harder lines, but then again, you might find you enjoy interacting on a more personal level. My best advice is to go slow and pull back if you need it. You are only one person and you can't do it all. Prioritize what's most important to you, and cut out the rest.

5. Am I ever scared of being misunderstood or misinterpreted in my online presence? If so, how do I deal with that?

Absolutely. I deal with this by keeping my personal life separate as much as possible. Even this can backfire though, since I've heard people call me absent or aloof. Ultimately, you can't please everyone. You're going to eventually do or say something which will be taken the wrong way, or someone won't agree with, and that's okay. We're all human and we all make mistakes. All you can do is try to keep a level head, examine the issue raised and decide for yourself if it's something you need to change. Be as kind as possible to other people, but don't forget to stand up for yourself. Ultimately, everything online should be taken with a grain of salt; your readers can't really know you based on a few posts. Sharing anything with the public always comes with risk, but it's a brave thing to do and can bring great rewards. Most people on this site are lovely, kind and supportive. Your interactions with these people will far outweigh the negative.

6. Advice for someone who wants to be seen, but is afraid of opening up.

I hope some of what I shared above was helpful! I'm right there with you, anon. I'm an introvert who gets overwhelmed by a lot of social interaction, but I do love sharing my writing with people. It took me almost six months after creating my blog to post my first fic, but sometimes you just need to do it. Being scared is normal, but if you don't take risks, you'll never reach the reward. Whether that's sharing your writing, or making new friends, or whatever you seek to gain from your online presence -- sometimes you just have to do it! Best of luck in your journey, babe :)

#asks #advice

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

Text

Queen of Masks ~ Alfie Solomons

Life as a woman, in any country really, isn’t the best, unless you score a jackpot with the most gentle, sweetest man and you become his housewife and agree to be some kind of baby factory and a maid, should he not have enough to provide for one, and a chef, nonetheless.

However, there are enough ambitious women who have enough spite in their veins to trample over anyone standing in their path of success, and would spit on graves and crush cadavers under their heeled boots that they wear with much pride and conviction.

That is exactly the case of Y/N, a gorgeous woman who won against all odds and became a Veterinary Physician in London, Camden, to be precise, and had to work under an older man who had a clinic - But it was fine, she got to learn loads, and interacting with animals on a daily basis was enough to keep her going and not to answer to any provocation from her male colleague who was far inferior to her, intellectually and intuitively speaking.

And one day, after tending to a gorgeous black race stallion, a tall and broad man walked in with a Bullmastiff boy who, upon seeing her, managed to snatch away his chain leash and jumped on her, trampling her to the ground and licking her all over her face.

The man jumped in shock, trying to pry away his pet from the poor woman, only to notice she was laughing and that he face was bright like the sun, as she tried to wipe away all the slobber from her face.

“I’m so sorry, aye, he’s never done somethin’ like this before. Here, let me help you up, right.” the man extended his hand for her to take, helping raise her up, then reprimanded his dog. “Don’t worry, mister, it’s quite alright. I kinda like when animals act so affectionate, it makes it feel as if I’m doing something right. What’s your name, darling? Let’s get you up on the table...Arghh...What a heavy baby...You’re gonna break every bone in my body...” the woman sweet talked the dog, struggling to hold him in her arms like a baby so she could put in on the table to examine. “He’s name’s Cyril, I got him last year. ‘S just a routine check up, but I think there’s a bump on his neck, yeah, right here.” the man explained, letting the girl palpate his dog and continuing to sweet talk him to calm him down. “Thyroid Carcinoma.” the male doctor spoke, which made the girl whip her head to him with a disturbed look. “Thyroid Cancer? Surely, you must be joking. Have you even been to Vet school?!” Y/N protested, shaking her head in protest at his sudden diagnosis. “What else could a bump in the thyroid area mean? Don’t play smart, just be humble and accept when you’re wrong.” the man rolled his eyes, not lifting his head from his papers. “First of all, even if it IS a tumour, it doesn’t HAVE to be cancer, it can still be completely harmless, thus, benign. Secondly, out of all tumours a dog can have, thyroid cancer is the least common one, the percentage going to maximum 2%. Therefore, NOT cancer! Besides, it could be hyperthyroidism, if you want to go over the top, but again, it could just be something the owner felt because something got stuck in his neck and-....Oh.” the girl then carefully touched the neck area, and smiled widely, looking down, nodding to herself. “What? You shut up ‘cause you finally realised I was right, despite your useless statistics?” the doctor grumbled in annoyance, not caring, obviously. “Wanna bet 100 pounds that it’s not cancer?” she asked, kissing Cyril’s head and playing with his floppy ears, action which made the dog bark playfully. “Ah, sorry, mister, I didn’t ask for your name and whether you find it insensitive or not for us to bet on a diagnosis.” she smiled awkwardly, extending her hand towards the bearded man who was watching the interaction carefully. “Alfie Solomons, lass, but call me just Alfie, right? So, yeah, ‘s fine, bet all you want, just make my boy better, eh?” Alfie shook the girl’s hand, seeing her cunningly going to the other doctor and spitting in her hand to shake and make the bet go through. “Okay, Alfie, you might want to step to the side a bit...If you value your shoes, that it. They look pretty new.” she chuckled softly, signing him with her head to move to the side, and so he did, as she made the dog vomit, and thus, revealing a small ball. “Oi, I can’t believe it! You stupid dog, Cyril, aye, how could you manage to swallow your own toy, yeah?!” Alfie gasped, his brows furrowing from shock. “Weirdly enough, dogs, especially big ones, are prone to swallowing little things, just like human babies are. It was small enough to just make him cough, but it’s a good thing you got him here in time.” the girl started quickly cleaning up the floor as she explained everything, as the Jew was still staring in shock at the idiocy of some animals. “Well, lass, thank you for solving the mystery, yeah, of whatever the hell this was, right. So, then, tell me how much I have to pay you for this consult, aye.” Alfie asked, which made her snap her head upwards, looking up at him, her eyes wide in shock. “No, God, no, nothing, it’s on me! I mean, if it weren’t for you...” Y/N smirked, reminding Alfie of a vixen, as she twirled around and went to snatch away the hundred pounds banknotes from her employer’s hand, who was looking at her with anger and bitterness. “I wouldn’t have been paid more than I’m paid in 3 months in just one day! It’s the least I can do to thank you...And to also see Cyril again, because I think it’s a connection. Right, Cyril? You’re such a sweet baby boy-....ARGH, GODS, NO-...!” but before the girl could compose herself, Cyril jumped on her torso, knocking her down again, coating her face in yet another sleek coat of drool from the lickings. “Damn it, Cyril, you’re impossible! Let the poor lass live, eh? I know, I know, she’s pretty, but leave her alone, alright?” after he finally managed to pry away the canine, he helped the girl up, who, once again, was laughing. “Let me make it up to you, yeah, for all the trouble this prankster’s been giving you, right. I’ve this bakery, y’know, the one nearby, so, anything you want, yeah, anything, you ask for it, you say my name, right, you say Alfie owes you a favour, and it’s all on the house, eh. How’s that.” he spoke, and he could see that her overly confident and extra demeanour shattered in an instant, making her look down, her beautiful, long hair hiding her features, as she was most likely blushing and smiling. “O-Oh, then, if that’s your bakery, means I’ve heard of you, you’re THE Alfie Solomons. Yeah, I’d love that, if you’d have me, but I told you, you don’t have to. I used you to get money worth of about 3 months, or more, so really, I should be thanking you somehow, but I don’t really have anything else to offer, other than to pay for the consult myself.” her serious, boastful voice turned very soft and shy, as fast as the flick of her fingers, as she walked him out of the clinic, so only he would hear. “Your boss there...He seemed kinda...Angry, eh. Are you gonna be fine dealing with him, lass?” he asked, bending down a bit, speaking to her tone level. “I guess. What’s the worst he can do, anyway. Besides, I care more about this conversation right now, and...About this.” she smirked softly, showing off the rolled pounds from her coat’s chest pocket. “So, Mr. Gangster, is there any specific time you’d be okay with me coming by the bakery? Maybe...Under the pretext of yet another regular check up on Cyril? Or...The smell of freshly baked cookies just captured me enough to find myself senselessly walking into the place?” she asked, diving her hands into her pockets, waiting for an answer, too timid to look him in the eye. “Ahhh, I see you’ve heard of me. Well, lass, I guess I can’t pretend to be some ordinary man, right, but maybe we can still enjoy a nice chat once in a while, eh, it would be nice, right?” the corner of Alfie’s mouth turned upwards, extending his hand for her to shake. “Y/N L/N, it’s great meeting you, Alfie. And yeah, it would be great. I’ll be seeing you around, alright? Hope I’ll see you soon and maybe we can have a nice cup of tea and anything that you’ve baked. I’m looking forward to that.” she shook his hand, smiling brightly at him, gesture which he turned. “And I’ll be seeing you as well, sweetheart.” with that, she kissed Cyril’s head once again, before waving Alfie goodbye and walking back into the clinic. “And I’ll be seeing you too...Y/N.” the gangster muttered, grinning at his dog and praising him with a few pats on his head. “Cyril, my boy, you’re my lucky charm.”

A week passed, and Y/N walked into the bakery - However, it wasn’t the front up, the bakery shop that smelled heavenly - It meant the gangster warehouse where Alfie would usually conduct his business meetings. And, of course, it was shocking to him when heard the click of heels and saw a beautiful, slender woman, dressed in high-waisted pants, with a black turtleneck tucked in her pants, beautiful brown leather boots with heels and a black trench coat that elegantly, yet imposingly hung from her shoulders, as if she was some kind of mafia Queen - Elegant, but deadly.

“Hello, Alfie. I heard you have a job around this place. Not sure what it is...Medic? Secretary? Dog-walker? Maybe you could fill me in.” she asked, her hands in her pants, fidgeting in her spot. “Where’ve you heard about this...Supposed job, eh, lass? And why’d you quit your job from the clinic, eh?” he asked, his fingers intertwining as he leaned forward, elbows rested on his desk. “Ah, well...Y’know...I got my medical license pulled, so I need a way to make money, and you’re the only one that I trusted not to treat me like garbage, so here I am. I know there’s no job, but I had to try my luck and be comedic in a way. It’s probably about the only thing I’m good at, sort of. It’s fine if you don’t want to give me a job, I mean, you can’t trust me with your business info after just speaking to me once, I can imagine, and - “ she kept on ranting, until Alfie raised both his hands in the air to calm her down and stop her speaking, before he raised to his feet, getting in front of the desk and leaning back on it. “Well, I did owe you a favour, right, so, sure, you’re hired, right, I’ll find you something. While we’re at it, can you, yeah, can you fire a gun?” he asked, with a mix of seriousness and playfulness in his voice. “Is it...In the job requirements?” she asked, looking around the place with a fake kind of curiosity. “There’s no job seeking, yeah, so, therefore, no job requirements. I was just being curious, alright, y’know, I have to know what everyone around is capable of, okay.” he explained, which made her smirk and turn on her heel to look at him. “That’s only fair. After all, now that you know that I’m particularly incapable of defending myself against people in general, you’ll just have to be extra careful to keep me safe, right, Alfie? We wouldn’t want Cyril to grieve over me, would we?” she chuckled, extending her arms to her side in a dramatic manner. “Haha, yes, lass, I s’ppose you’re right. Can you handle more than one job, eh? I can hire you as a physician, right, but we don’t always have wounded men, yeah, so, you’re a smart woman, alright, I’m sure you are very capable of reading, writing, doing calculus and other stuff that involves using your head, right, so, I don’t know what name will this job have, but, maybe an assistant of sort, eh? Ollie here helps me out a lot, yeah, but he can’t do everything, he ain’t some God, y’know.” Alfie gesticulated, pointing towards Ollie, then tried to explain to her that things are serious, and not to be taken lightly. “Guess this is gonna be the thrill of my life, huh? I’m in, Alfie. At least I can get along with you without fearing having my license pulled-...Oh, wait, I have nothing to fear about anymore.” she chuckled in a self-deprecating way, making Alfie cross his arms to his chest. “You never told me what happened. Go on, tell me. I’m sure you didn’t kill a dog, or somethin’, you’re too smart a doctor to fuck up.” his curiosity got the better of him, as he saw her turning to look at him, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly agape, and he could almost see her brain gears moving, trying to think of a witty answer. “Didn’t you say something about freshly baked goodies and tea? I bet that’s gonna be a much more...Hospitable way of chatting with your new employee, wouldn’t it? Or better said, friendlier? I mean, this place is so...Ugly and humid...Only good for gangster business. The echo here, if you shout, can intimidate anyone, I’m sure. Come on, show me the actual bakery...And you better have a gramophone. I like music.” she smiled up at him, hooking her arm to his, pulling him in a random direction to urge him to guide her to the bakery, where the beautiful smell of bread and cookies mesmerised her, and she playfully swooned in her chair. “I see you’re enjoying this place very much, eh. Well, can’t say I expected you coming today, so I didn’t bake them myself, yeah, but I’ll make it up to you. Sure you want tea and not rum or somethin’?” Alfie asked, a bit awkward staying at the cute little table, with a cute, little cup of tea in his bear-like hands. “Yes, I’m quite sure, Alfie. But it’s fine, you don’t have to drink what I’m drinking, I won’t think of you any differently. In your home, you do as you please.” she chuckled at him, watching as he nodded solemnly, only to down that tea in one go, small droplets of liquid embedding themselves in his beard. “Right, right, I understand, y’er a people pleaser, you want everyone to like you, unless it goes against whatever scheme you have. You’re smart, alright. Very smart, and you’ve sharp eyes, and are cunning. I need someone like you around, yeah. But tell me, how’d you manage to lose your dream job in a week?” Alfie asked, extending his hand to gently grab her chin, pulling it so he could peer right into her gorgeous, vixen-like eyes. “Remember the bet I did when you came around with Cyril? Well, apparently that jerk got mad at me for, to quote, steal his money, so he filed a malpractice lawsuit to get his money back, 5 times more, and pulled away my license, to get revenge on me for humiliating him in front of a customer...Allegedly. Very petty, I know, but, as they say...C’est la vie. Not much to do about it, really. Now I’m seen as a con-artist thief who kills animals, so I have no way of getting a job anywhere anymore, hence why I’m here. Lovely, innit?” she snorted as she took a bit of the cookie, closing her eyes to savour it’s flavour. “And now, I think I died and went to heaven, ‘cause this is the best thing I’ve eaten in my life.” “You’re so hired, lass. Did ya pay the 500 pounds?” he asked, propping his jaw on his hand. “Yeah, thankfully. And by that, I mean I to sell my apartment so now I’m using my saving to stay at a cheap hotel, but, y’know, life’s life. At least I know I won and I was right. Maybe if I had the right connections, I could have won 10 times what I lost...But what do I know. I don’t really know how non-legal things go by.” she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her head in a playfully guilty manner. “Y’know, Y/N...I think we can solve that fairly quick, yeah. Tell me the name, and I’ll make sure things are sold. In the meantime, I’ve a nice, warm room where you can stay, right, and surely, Cyril’s gonna love your company.” Alfie smiled at her, signaling for her to follow him.

At that time, she had no idea this was actually his home, but when she did find out, she was more than grateful, if not, a bit awkward, for having to rely so much on his kindness. However, just as he promised, Alfie managed to get that jerk of a doctor to pay her 10 times the money she paid him, and thus, she would have been able to get a very modern and luxurious place, only for herself, and even buy a dog, a cat, or hell, more of them.

But she refused, and asked to continue staying with him, if she wasn’t too much of a burden, since she really enjoyed spending time with him, and she had no idea, other than working 200% of her capabilities for her job, whatever that was, at the moment, and, of course, she would have missed Cyril too much.

It didn’t take long for Alfie’s people to realise the obvious chemistry between the two, and Ollie kept trying to convince him to ask her out, but things are always so difficult, aren’t they? Business and logics are much easier than subjective emotions.

It became sort of a routine for everyone around to see their boss writing and reading documents at his desk, while Y/N would sit on the desk, her legs resting on his chair’s back rest, as she would write on her clipboard whatever relevant things she thought were worth noting down, and would occasionally express her opinions regarding ideas that Alfie had, or some businesses that he was dealing with at the moment - All that, with, of course, the frequent witty comments they would exchange - And it was never anything hurtful, or reproachful jabs, only playful and domestic comments that always made her laugh.

“You never told me why you always look down when you interact with people, y’know, and by that, I don’t mean when you’re being some dramatic Queen, but when you’re being yourself. I mean, I haven’t seen women who let their hair so long these days, right, so I was curious about you. You do things much differently than most people, y’know that, don’t you?” Alfie asked, raising his head to look up at her, only to see, once again, trying to think of how to explain things that don’t rely on rational and objective behaviours. “Ah...Well...Uh...Y’know...I’m...My face is very expressive, y’know. So, like...I get embarrassed easily, or...Uhm...When I lie, or something, I tend to grin or laugh. I’m a messy failure who can’t do a pokerface, like, ever, so, since most people are taller than me, if I let my hair cover my face, they won’t see the truth. Or, well, y’know, at least that’s what I hope. I can’t look at them while hiding, so I’ve no way of telling whether it works or not. Contrary to me being flashy and dramatic, I’m kinda shy and terrible around people.” she chuckled awkwardly, looking away from him, bringing up her clipboard to cover half of her face. “Ahhh, I see, I see, so you go to real great lengths, yeah, to get what you want, and so far, you’ve done really well, eh. Is there anything you can’t do, lass? You’ve been doing this job for over a year, and business has improved with...Uh...Lemme see, how much did you say...Ah, yes, here, it says 23%.” he had his glasses on as his eyes scanned the documents on his desk. “I...Can’t socialise, I guess. And I can’t relax. I don’t know how to have fun. Uhm...I can’t human, I guess? I don’t know what to call it, but I think you get what I’m saying. Anyway, we have business work now, so read this paragraph here, I think we have to talk threaten Sabini a bit, he’s over his head now with power, someone has to humble him, give us a better percentage of his business, and -” Y/N tried to quickly redirect the conversation, hating when she had to talk about herself, but obviously, she couldn’t say no to the man who was always so kind and sweet with her, could she? “Nahhh, it’s fine, Y/N, let’s take a little break, right? We’ve been working since early morning, it’s evening now. Ollie, go make tea and bring those treats made today, eh. Now, lass, why don’t you tell me how did you get around to practicing medicine? I’ve always been curious by that, you know, you don’t see many women unafraid of stuff like that, yeah.” he pointed out, letting himself fall down on his chair’s seat, looking up at her. “Y’know, Y/N, you say you can hide your emotions when you hide your face from people taller than you, yeah? But what happens when they look at you from below? Gotta say, Y/N, sometimes, your worried face is rather pretty...Better now, let me look at you when you speak, yeah, we’re equals, when you go all meek on me, you make me feel like some kind o’ merciless boss or somethin’.” he chuckled, raising a bit to put her hair behind her ears, revealing a soft blush coating her cheeks, and god damn, he could feel his heart beating a bit faster. “Uhm...Okay, fine, sure, I owe you that much. Uhm...My dad was a medic too, so it became a family business for a while. And, uhm...Dad was recruited as a war medic, and went with my brother, while I and mum continued to take care of the people and animals from our city. When it was all over, I decided to get to London to practice properly, get more money and provide for my family better. They’re getting old and they need someone to take care of them, somehow.” she explained, but her eyes were darting around, and he could feel she was still hiding something because of her hesitance, but he wasn’t sure what exactly was it that she was trying to hide.

But before either of them could say anything about it anymore, a loud bang echoed through the warehouse, somewhere from the entrance, which made the girl jump in her place with a mouse-like squeak, slapping her hands over her ears.

It’s true, any person would get frightened by a gunshot that resounded so loudly through that place - And yet, this one looked like a panicked, scared fawn in the headlights - And Alfie, of course, noticed that and came to a few conclusions for himself.

However, before he could say anything, a man entered their field of vision, and he could feel Y/N tensing up, her face showing shock and disgust at the person who she clearly recognise. She turned her head to look at Alfie, and with pleading eyes, mouthing a few simple words that may or may not have shocked him.

“Let me kill him” she tried to say, but this mystery man spoke out faster than expected, and it was clear she was getting more and more angry and embarrassed by the moment. “Y/N, darling, what are you doing here? Whoring around with other men, getting into illicit business, thinking you’re superior to men just because you have some over the top ambitions that are completely unreachable, and now you think you can get rich by staying around wealthy old men, huh?” the man kept speaking, igniting an infernal fire into her eyes. “Alfie, I pride myself with my never ending patience, but I swear to God, if you don’t let me kill him...I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Y/N muttered between her gritted teeth, shocking Alfie since he never saw her as the violent type. “I’m not doing any business with him, alright, do what you feel like doing, Y/N, he’s all yours.” Alfie sat back in his chair, his fingers intertwined over his stomach, watching with interest whatever she was going to do.

Y/N jumped off the desk and slowly prowled around it, her head hanging low, before she snapped it up, glaring lightnings at the man.

“Fuck off. Now. Or you’re dead. Do you understand this simple language, or do I need to put it in words that even a monkey would understand?” she crossed her arms, spitting poison at him. “What, can’t I be angry at my own girlfriend for being a bitch and leaving me alone? I mean, you really fucked up, y’know? You left me when I needed you the most, how tragic is that?!” he yelled at her, but she only rolled her eyes, scoffing. “Yeah, I left you ‘cause you were abusing me. The way I see it, you’re the one who sucks, not me. Now get the hell out of here. Before I do something you will regret.” her voice went an octave lower, threatening him the same way she learnt from Alfie over the time of business making. “Woaw, Y/N, woaw, that’s pathetic, even for you. You’ve never been able to even raise your voice at anyone. You were nothing more than a crybaby who couldn’t step up to anyone, and then you went to war, and what, you think you changed? You didn’t! Underneath this dumb, tough facade that you’re trying to pull in front of everyone else, you’re nothing more than the frightened little girl who needed to have everything in control and grasp a bit of power to feel superior to others after you got beaten up and had a gun pointed at your head by the Germa-” but he couldn’t continue speaking for, in the blink of an eye, she pulled out a gun for her trench coat and shot him in the head, his blood and brains shooting everywhere, all over her, on the walls and floor. “Well...Ask me anything and I will provide you with an answer that is completely honest this time. But, uhm...Take of your shirt, will you?” she had a solemn, pissed off expression as she threw off her coat before hurriedly taking off her shirt, nonchalantly cleaning up her face, then pulling it into a ball, throwing it on the cadaver, then stepped in front of a very shocked, yet impressed Alfie. “Go on, take off your shirt, will you? It’s clean. You promised I’ll never have to shoot a gun, and yet, I did, therefore I need a clean top, right? So, while I tell you the truth, don’t let me stay like this in front of you, okay?” extending her hand in front of her, while her other arm was over her chest, trying to cover her pretty white laced bra, it took a mirthful laugh out of the Jew for him to finally take off his shirt and put it around her, not caring that he was the topless one now. “Will you ever stop impressing and surprising me, lass?” Alfie asked, petting her head as a way to say she did well. “Once I stop shocking myself, sure. Until then...I believe you want to say something, don’t you?” she asked, slowly stepping in front of him, looking up at him as she properly put on his shirt that looked like a dress on her. “Yeah, lass, I think I did.”

With a gentle smile, he cupped her face, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her lips, one hand stroking his fingers through her beautiful long hair, while the other caressed her soft visage. The tender look in his blue-green eyes felt like the safest, warmest haven she ever felt, and with an impulse decision that her heart made, she leaned forward, her arms slowly snaking around his torso, her head resting on his shoulder, and closing her eyes, she could finally feel her heart calming, for the first time in her life.

“It was you who went to war, wasn’t it?” Alfie muttered in her hair, holding her tightly. “Yeah. I don’t have a brother. It was me who went with my father to war, but he died, so I had to be the backbone of the troops. When I got home, my mum was devastated and she died of grief. I left that place to get rid of memories...And get rid of that fuckass. War left me with traumas, but it also made me strong enough to face up to who I am and stop taking everyone’s shit just because they think I’m lesser than them. Sometimes...When you talk about your time as a captain...I remember my time there...And...I realise how much I respect you...And also, how different you are from all the people I had contact with there.” she explained, her grip tightening around him, her heart quivering from the deep emotions she was feeling. “You’ve been through quite a lot in your life, haven’t you, lass? And you managed to make a life all for yourself, from the scratch, right, so, I think you’ve been doing great. France?” he asked, guiding her to a more private room, much warmer and cozier, while Ollie was to find him another shirt. “Yeah, France. Thing is...You went through all that, and it was worse for you, since you were a Captain, and you must have felt responsible for every death from your troops...And yet...Ever since we met, you’ve been sweeter than anyone has ever been, and that includes my own family. Don’t get me wrong, I loved them, but maybe...Maybe I’m just a bit softer than I let others think. And you managed to hit the right spot, in the good way, I mean. War changes everyone, and yet, you’re...I have no fitting word to describe how much I appreciate you, Alfie, but here...This thing here feels it, and I think you can feel what I’m feeling too.” she explained, resting her head on his shoulder once they sat down on the sofa, as he pulled her closer to his side, kissing her temple lovingly. “You know, Y/N...You’re not wrong. I tried not to think about my time there and the horrors I’ve seen, yeah, so, maybe it doesn’t come off as anything fantastic, and I still don’t think that being a decent person, right, to people who are close to me, is a big deal. But maybe sometimes we take things for granted, don’t we, so, maybe, you’re right. But that guy has no excuse for being a bastard. You’re safe now, Y/N, and when some day, when we’re done with this gangster mess...We can go to Margate and live a normal life there, eh. You, me and Cyril, and the sandy beach and the waves, right, and maybe, if we get bored, we can shoot those damned seagulls, yeah? They’re so annoying, I’m telling ya!” Alfie chuckled, which, in turn, made her grin at him lovingly. “I’d love to go to Margate with you, Alfie, and have seagull shooting contests together, and run barefoot on the shore, and if it’s enough light from the moon, we can swim a bit. Sounds like the perfect life if you ask me.” Y/N kissed his cheek, lovingly caressing his face before hugging his side. “That’s what I like to hear, lass. I’m sure Cyril would bark like a mad dog from happiness if he was hear, right. S’gonna be fun when we get home, eh.”

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders

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purplesurveys · 2 years

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surveys by @swanky-surveys

Blank Survey #5

1. What’s the last item you bought from a hardware store? Can’t even tell you the last time I was in one as I genuinely can’t remember; much less the last thing I’ve bought.

2. When’s the last time you got a ticket, and what for? I believe it had been tickets to BTS’ online concert last March. Thanks for reminding me I have to buy tickets again for this Sunday’s concert too! Hahaha.

3. What’s the last piece of mail you’ve sent, snail-mail style? I never did snail mail, even when it was big during my childhood years.

4. Is marijuana legal where you live? Nope.

5. Have you ever failed a sobriety test? No, and I’ve never even taken one.

6. Do you keep all of your receipts? It’s not that I mean to keep them, but I just never get around to throwing them out so they always kind of end up all hoarded up in my wallet.

7. Have you done your taxes yet? My employer does it for me.

8. What’s the last board game that you played? I haven’t played a board game in ages but I did play Cards Against Humanity two weeks ago, if can count games in general.

9. Do you drink enough water every day? Barely. I usually don’t feed myself or drink water until dinnertime.

10. Who is the last person that you disappointed? I dunno but possibly a client. Things have been moving agonizingly slowly this week so I’ve had to keep managing their expectations and stuff.

11. How many hours of sleep do you need per night in order to be a functioning member of society? At least 6. Any fewer than that and I’ll be cranky or not perform at my best.

12. Who is the last person you text messaged? What were the two of you chatting about? It was a delivery guy because I messed up the details of one of the deliveries I booked for work, and we had to coordinate on the next steps to make sure the thing gets delivered to the recipient.

13. If you run out of toilet paper, what’s your next resort? Look for some scratch paper in my bag because I always seem to have some anyway, lol.

14. Have you ever gotten an unexpected gift from a neighbor during a windstorm? Nope. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a windstorm, either.

15. Is it time for an oil change in your vehicle yet? My mom had it done just a couple of months ago, so no.

16. Do you remember the subject of the last test you took? It was my finals for my Korean language class last year.

17. Why did your last cell phone have to be replaced? Because the screen was fucked up to the max. Plus I already filled up the storage anyway, so it really was due for retirement haha.

18. How often do you feel as though you’re left out of the loop? I would say pretty often. Work keeps me busy every single day and there are a lot of things I find myself having to catch up on.

19. What should you be doing instead of this survey? I should be sleeping since it’s nearly 2:30 AM...but I won’t.

20. When’s the last time you trimmed your fingernails & toenails? During the weekend.

made by: @swanky-surveys

Blank Survey #6

1. Have you ever had a pillow explode feathers everywhere? I’ve only seen this happen in cartoons.

2. Have you seen the new Seeing Red movie on Disney+? I think it’s called Turning Red, but yes I have! Not on Disney+ though since we don’t even have that here. Anyway, I liked the movie just fine but it doesn’t come anywhere close to being a potential favorite. I honestly tuned out by the middle part since I wasn’t a big part of the spiritual storyline.

3. Are you able to taste the difference between Pepsi & Coke? I doubt it as I’m not a big soda drinker and I’ve only had Pepsi once.

4. What was your last reason for projectile vomiting? Mixing alcohol and THC.

5. What are some of your hobbies that you enjoy? Staying in coffee shops, going to museums, trying new restaurants, painting, reading essays on topics I’m interested about.

6. Where do you buy the majority of your clothing? I’m not much of a shopper but my go-to store would be H&M.

7. Where was your best hide & go seek spot as a child? Inside closets as I easily fit into the smallest spots.

8. Do you have a favorite Disney princess? Rapunzel.

9. When’s the last time you had to attend a staff meeting? We don’t have those but we do have monthly townhalls so the last one had been last March.

10. Are you still required to wear a mask where you live? Yes. Other places aren’t requiring it anymore?? That sounds so cool.

11. What’s your favorite type of sandwich? Monte Cristo.

12. What’s the last piece of furniture you purchased? I’ve never purchased furniture.

13. What are the colors of the walls you are currently in? White.

14. What is your phone’s battery percentage at right now? 18%.

15. In your opinion, what is one of the most unpleasant smells? Infections.

16. Is there a popular food out there that you do not enjoy at all? Fruits.

17. How do you like your steak? Rare as fuck.

18. How many pages was the last book you read? I don’t remember what book that was anymore.

19. Are you easily distracted? YES. Especially if I hate what I’m currently doing i.e. work. I’d give in to any open opportunity to get distracted.

20. Do you have any desire to travel to Guam? I mean it’s never been on my top travel spots but I’d never turn down a trip to a different country.

made by: @swanky-surveys

Blank Survey #7

1. Have you ever made a hole-in-one at mini-golf? Nah. I’ve never even played mini golf.

2. What was the scent of the last candle you lit? This really lovely sweet vanilla scent. My favorite.

3. Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers; I hate taking too long in the bathroom.

4. How many chairs fit around your dining room table? It’s meant for 6 but it can squeeze up to like 10 if people don’t mind tighter spaces.

5. What different things do you put ketchup on? Off the top of my head there’s rice, eggs, fish, porkchop, and fried chicken.

6. Have you ever been white water rafting? I haven’t been.

7. Which social media website do you frequent the most? Facebook and Instagram.

8. What color shirt are you currently wearing? Purple and white.

9. How old were you when you found out the truth about Santa, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny? Santa I never really believed in; my fascination with the Tooth Fairy came crashing down when I was like 6 and didn’t get money under my pillow; and with the Easter Bunny, it’s just a much lesser-known figure in this part of the world so it was never something I knew about until I got a lot older.

10. Who was the last person that you had an actual phone call with? The handler of this influencer I’m currently working with.

11. How many pillows do you sleep with? Two and then several plushies.

12. Do you own an Alexa? Naw. My parents have a Google Home Mini, though.

13. How long have you lived at your current address? It’ll be 14 years this year.

14. Do you prefer “real books” or ebooks? Actual books.

15. Do you use coasters for your drinks in your home? We don’t have any even though I’ve been begging my mom for years to start considering them lol.

16. What’s the last card game you played? Cards Against Humanity.

17. Would you rather read poetry or write it? I’d rather have nothing to do with poetry lol. It’s my least favorite literary form.

18. Do you go barefoot often? Where I live you go barefoot when you are indoors, 24/7. No shoes allowed.

19. How old were you when you lost your first tooth? I was 6 and it was in the middle of a school day hahahaha. The teacher had to stop the storytelling session that had been taking place to attend to me, while the other kids watched over in amusement.

20. Have you parents ever showed up at your place of employment? They’ve never been to my office, no.

made by: @swanky-surveys

#survey #surveys

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shersuperavenge4 · 3 years

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Time

Summary: just some fluff between Steve Rogers and Tony Stark’s daughter. Ariana Stark decided to gift Cap. something special.

Warning: Implied smut.

A/N: Hiya! I came up with the idea for this one shot while scrolling through Pinterest. I saw some beautiful pocket watches and I couldn’t help but write something for our very own “Man out of time”. It was supposed to be a really short one shot, but clearly I got carried away! I intend to write more on the same characters. Hope you enjoy it!

Comments, and likes are welcome! :)

Ariana Stark stood leaning against the glass walls of her tastefully decorated office. The spectacular view from the twenty-fifth floor of Stark industries was something else altogether. She had specifically chosen this office for its location and the view it provided. It was small, quiet and situated in the corner, away from the bustle of typically loud activities. Almost like her. Although Tony stark, her father did not approve of her choice, she believed in living up to her reputation of being a recluse. Ariana couldn’t help but gaze at the late afternoon sky. It reminded her of a certain blue-eyed super soldier, warm and golden.

“Martin? What do you gift a man out of time”?

Her personal secretary stopped his work and looked up. “Sorry Miss Stark, what are you referring to here?

She turned to him with a look of despair. “its 4th of July today, Captain Roger’s birthday. Now, I know he made it clear that he doesn’t want a party or even anyone wishing him but then I thought, that shouldn’t stop me from gifting him something”

Martin grinned at her. He knew that Ariana had unknowingly developed a soft corner for the Captain. Over the past year, Martin had quietly been noticing the subtle changes in the behavior of his employer. To put it simply, the girl with the heart of gold bloomed every time Steve Rogers was around her.

“Stop grinning and help me Martin, I have been wracking my brain for a week but I just can’t figure out what to gift him and a regular gift will just not do!” she walked across the room and slumped down on the leather sofa. Ariana wanted the gift to be special, something meaningful. She knew how difficult it was for him fit in with people. Still, he was getting better, the avengers had become a dysfunctional family of sorts. But, what bothered her the most was that while time had sprinted ahead leaving him behind, he was mentally still a part of the 1940s. It wasn’t his fault, no one had bothered to help him catch up with the ravages of time.

Martin squinted his eyes at her and answered, “What could be a better gift for a man out of time than TIME itself?” Ariana stared at him in disbelief. How could she not have come up with this? A watch would be the perfect thing she could give him! Clearly, being one of the brightest minds of the century had not helped her. She began laughing, jumped out of her seat and shook him by his shoulders. “Oh, thank you so much Martin, I know exactly what to gift him now! you are truly the best!” With that, she grabbed her purse and rushed out of her office.

The young Stark walked into the chicest shop in Manhattan, known for selling all sorts of luxury brands. The attendant greeted her warmly and began leading her towards one of the counters. About an hour later, she was surrounded by some of the finest and most expensive timepieces. Some were too flashy and jeweled, while others too delicate and dull. But none of them had Steve written on them. At this point, even the attendant was starting to get anxious. Ariana let out a sigh of defeat and began to wander around the store. She was almost about to give up when her eyes fell on one of the bottom corner shelves of a counter.

She pointed to the shelf and asked “May I see that collection?”

The attendant furrowed his eyebrows “Oh those are pocket watches, they are not…how should I put it? We don’t consider them to be our finest, so I didn’t really think they would be worth your time”

Ariana shot him a cold glare “Why don’t you let me decide what is worth my time and what isn’t? Now would you be kind enough to bring them out?” The attendant quickly lowered his gaze and walked towards the shelf. As he brought out the collection of pocket watches, Ariana gasped with delight. She didn’t even need to see the entire collection because there was one pocket watch in the corner which had caught her eye and she knew this was it. The perfect time piece for the golden boy. Ariana walked out of the shop feeling as if she had found a priceless diamond. “he must have returned home from his mission” she thought to herself. The next stop, his home.

It had been a week since she last met him. They had become good friends over the last 2 years, but the feelings she had for him were far stronger than just friendship. Truth be told, Ariana missed him terribly. She missed his blue eyes that changed shades depending on his mood. With her, they were always the color of the sky on a spring day, soft and clear. She missed the warmth he exuded, the gentle voice he used while speaking to her. With him she could be herself. It was as if time had gifted him to her. It was only when she arrived at his door did she realize how nervous and excited she was to meet him. She quickly opened the small mirror in her compact and adjusted her hair. She knocked on the door and a moment later he appeared. She stood there wide eyed, staring at him with a smile. It was as if Adonis himself had appeared.

“Ana, wow, what are you doing here? Sorry, did I forget something?” Steve couldn’t believe his luck, the only person he had wanted to see on his birthday was this gorgeous girl who had stolen his heart. Steve silently thanked the Gods for sending her to his doorstep.

“What so I can’t visit you unless we have a plan? I’m hurt Captain Rogers” Ariana pretended to wipe tears of her cheeks. Steve shook his head and laughed at her antics. “No, sorry Doll, it’s just that I wasn’t expecting you, come on in” Ariana loved it when Steve called her Doll or Ana, it gave her hope that maybe, just maybe he saw her more than a friend.

As she walked into his living room, Steve couldn’t help but stare. She was one of the kindest souls he had known. What he admired the most about her was that despite being a genius like her father and extraordinarily beautiful, she didn’t have an ounce of attitude or arrogance. Ariana made everyone feel special. She was gentle and compassionate. Falling in love with her was as easy as breathing. It was only because of her that the man out of time began feeling slightly at ease. To him she was perfection. He longed to hold her in his arms, kiss her deeply, and never let her go. But there was just one problem. She was a Stark. The apple of Tony’s eye. Steve knew the fellow Avenger would never approve of “Captain America” falling for his only daughter. Tony already harbored slightly bitter feelings for Steve, the last thing he needed was the Avengers to get affected cause he couldn’t stop himself from falling in love with Iron Man’s daughter. So instead, Steve had chosen to maintain a casual friendship with her. It honestly killed him to have her so close to him and yet so far. He didn’t know how long he could keep up this façade. The captain lead her to believe he was still having a hard time in this century, truth be told, he was. But it wasn’t as bad as when he had first come out of the ice. He was beginning to feel at home thanks to his brown eyed angel. Steve was afraid that if he told her he was doing well, she would stop spending time with him. And that was unacceptable to the super soldier, for all he wanted was to be around her and in her. He had spent many nights fantasizing about her in his bed, against the wall, in the shower and basically in every way he could make her his. He wasn’t proud of his filthy thoughts, she deserved to be treated with all the love and care possible. But, Ariana brought out the side of Steve that no one had seen before. She was everything he wanted, everything he had lost in the past and everything he knew he couldn’t have.

Ariana’s sweet voice drew him out of his thoughts. “Steve? penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about the mission, sorry, so what have you been up to this week? Steve tried to change the subject and steer clear of any accidental confessions.

Ariana brought out the elegantly wrapped gift and thrust it into his hands “Well, I know what you said about your birthday but I couldn’t help myself, I hope you aren’t mad at me. Happy Birthday Steve!”

Steve didn’t know how to react. “Ana why? I mean this is really sweet but you didn’t have to get me anything. I really don’t like making a big deal of my birthday”

“Yes, yes, I know, but how could I let you get away just like that? Birthdays are meant to be special and you are special in every way. you deserve the world” Ariana gazed at him with a look of adoration.

Steve stood frozen in his spot. He was overcome by the sudden urge to tuck the loose strand framing her soft features and run his fingers along her arms. He wanted nothing more than to pull her by the waist and press his lips to hers. The ringtone of her phone brought him out of his fantasy. Ariana frowned at the screen. She took the phone call, went to the other side of the room and mouthed a sorry to Steve. It was Tony. Whenever Steve thought about telling his feelings to Ariana, Tony would appear in some form or the other. Steve would curse himself and draw the line again.

Ariana walked back to him with a disappointed look “I’m sorry Steve, but I have to leave right now. Dad wants me back at the tower, he said he needs some help with the new tech”

She looked up at him with a sad smile. Steve internally screamed.

“I was hoping we could have gone out for a walk, but never mind, I guess I’ll open the gift later with you.”

Ariana scrunched her face “Noo please don’t do that. I want you to open it. You can message or call to tell me if you liked it, please I’m really excited. It took me quite long to decide”

Steve lightly chuckled “Ok, Miss Stark I will do as you please” She gave him a satisfied smile.

She picked up her bag and began walking towards the door. Oh, how she wished she could spend more time with her golden boy on his birthday. He wanted to stop her, but he knew there was no point. It was better this way. Before stepping out the door, she turned to him and gave him a warm smile “Happy Birthday Steve! Hope you like the gift. Enjoy the rest of the night, I will see you soon”

“Thanks Doll, I’m really glad you dropped by tonight”

Ariana was contemplating on whether or not she should kiss him good night when suddenly Steve lightly touched her arm and brought his face to hers. Her eyes widened with anticipation and for a moment she actually thought he was going for her lips, but instead, he planted a firm kiss on her cheeks. He didn’t draw away, he lingered for a moment taking in her scent.

Steve knew he was entering dangerous territory, but it was a kiss on the cheek, how difficult could it be? Turns out it was down-right painful. He was having a hard time moving away from her. Her scent was driving him mad with desire. He longed to pull her back into his apartment. Begrudgingly, he drew back. Steve gazed into her eyes and ran his thumb over Ariana’s flushed cheeks “Good night Miss Stark”.

That night, her cheeks remained flushed and her lips refused to wipe the shy smile of her face.

Back home, Steve tore the wrapping paper of the gift and opened the velvet box. And there it was, a gorgeous black pocket watch. The hinged cover had intricate carvings of the sun, moon and stars. Steve opened the cover to reveal a black and golden dial. He turned the pocket watch over and saw that it had an engraving that said “For the timeless moments to come-Love, Ana”.

Steve’s eyes were filled with tears. At that moment, he realized that it was never about the time one was in, it was about the person with whom they shared their time and space with. The timepiece provided him with the strength to cross the line he drew between Ariana and him. He was not going to let her go, for she was the one he wanted to create all the timeless moments with. He would never part with the pocket watch and would carry it around with him everywhere, it would remind him of his brown eyed angel who brought him back to life. And just like that, He made peace with time. They were no longer foes, simply two friends catching up with one another after having waited so long for the right moment to arrive.

#steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #captain america fanfiction #avengersimagine #tony stark's daughter #chris evans #steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #tony stark #captain america fic #mcu drabble #steve rogers x oc #marvel #steve rogers x female reader #marvel fic #captain america

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

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Obscured by Shadows

Now to the last Halloween short! This was prompted by the wonderful @spacalicious and let me tell you you gave me so much I could have written a full on 60k story about it. I didn’t have as much fun writing a story in a long time. That said, this got long, i’ts a bit over 5k and I’m sorry to those who haven’t got something as long, I hope that’s okay. So enjoy this one!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Eldritch being?

Nines had always been determined to figure things out for himself. Maybe it was something he valued because he had never been given a real base programming. He knew his model would eventually be used for the military. But Cyberlife hadn’t been able to do more than basic hardware tests on him before the revolution changed the world. He had been informed his prior series had been finished and given a purpose: The RK200 was a caretaker and the RK800 was working for the police. With nothing much to go off of, RK900 had chosen to keep these purposes in mind while finding his own.

He had applied at the police academy immediately after making this decision. He didn’t want to just download a program from someone. He wanted to build his own unique one. And during his time at the academy, he quickly found he liked the challenge of uncovering mysteries. He enjoyed gathering evidence, puzzling together what had happened based on it and uncovering the truth in between sowed lies. It only took him a few years to make it detective and was proud to be accepted at the fifth precinct of the Detroit police department. The Captain had assigned him to Lieutenant Anderson, the officer that had been there the longest, and Connor, the RK800. He was supposed to learn the ropes from them, and Connor was more than glad to show him around.

His predecessor had decided getting to know his co-workers was the best course of action and one after the next pointed out the different persons to him. ‘Okay, as you came in you must have seen the receptionists. The android is a ST300, she calls herself Steph, and the human one is Elisabeth, but everyone calls her Elly. Then we’ve got Officer Collins over there, this is Hank’s desk and mine and there is Officer Willson’s. On the other side we have Officer Person, Officer Chen and Officer Miller. And you already met the Captain. We are a small group, but that’s because SWAT is right there, if you head out this side. Another RK800 is working there, but I’m not on best terms with him. We tend to evade each other. Doesn’t mean you have to though. I can show you around there tomorrow, for now I’ll show you the cells, interrogation room and the meeting room. Then we can-‘ ‘Excuse me?’ Nines felt bad for interrupting, but his eye had fallen on… on what again? ‘Yes? Sorry, I tend to monologue. How can I help you?’ Connor politely smiled at him, while Nines thought about what he had meant to ask about. Connor had showed him all his co-workers and had went on with- right. He looked around again and kept his eyes on the person Connor missed. ‘Who is he?’, he asked, pointing Connor at the man. ‘Hm? Oh. Oh, that’s just Gavin’, the other android waved him off. ‘Detective Reed I believe. He’s an asshole. I met him briefly before the revolution. That was enough to get a clear picture of him. File him under unimportant and go on with it. It’s not really worth knowing the guy, trust me.’ ‘But I introduced myself to everyone personally after the initial briefing’, Nines argued. ‘I believe I must have forgotten him. I at least want to do that.’ Connor shrugged. ‘Fine, knock yourself out. I’ll wait here for you. I doubt you’ll be long.’

Nines made his way over to the man’s desk and read the plague first. Connor had been right: Detective Gavin Reed. ‘Hello! My name is Nines. I’m a RK900 unit and the new Detective. I’m looking forward to work with you!’ He held out his hand and every other person had accepted it and had some niceties left for him. The human in front of him just stared him up and down and grumbled. ‘Phck off.’ Nines recoiled. ‘Excuse me, I just wanted to be nice. I-‘ ‘And I don’t. Mind your own business and piss off!’ Nines knit his brows but remembered Connor’s words. Maybe this one time he could have relied on someone else’s knowledge.

He had returned to Connor that day and the other RK had shown him the rest of the precinct. After that the days seemed to rush past: Nines helped Hank and Connor with their cases and quickly afterwards he had his first very own case. The other two had helped him solve it, but it still was one he had led and found most of the clues to. After work he was driving from one place to the next looking for a small affordable flat, but so far, he stayed in the mostly unused stasis-booths at the precinct or simply continued working. In his breaks he had chatted with his co-workers and learned quite a lot about them. Collins had a sweet tooth, Wilson was almost religiously obsessed with football, Person was spending a large amount of his pay checks on his sister’s hospital fees but according to him she is getting better, Chen loved tea way too much and Miller could talk on for hours about his daughter and wife. Nines was quite content with his life and his choice to join the DPD. He liked the challenge actual cases brought to the table and was in general well-liked. So why was something constantly nagging at his systems, directing his attention to empty spaces on the opposite wall or just letting him stare into the nothing somewhere in the precinct? Maybe something was just wrong with his systems.

No, there wasn’t anything wrong with his systems. Nines had checked as he had entered stasis that night. But that would mean something in the precinct actually let his sensors misfire. And apparently, he was the only one to notice that strange phenomenon. The RK900 still doubted himself as he stepped down from the platform that morning. All his co-workers were competent and attentive people. They should have noticed it if something weird was going on in the bullpen. And there was still the minimal possibility of his diagnostic routines failing him. He would keep this to himself for now and keep his eyes open.

It took him almost a month to lose his patience. The errors and inconsistencies piled up and so far, almost all of them could be chalked up to the one person no one seemed to care about or even notice. Gavin Reed. The strangest thing was that Nines himself didn’t care much about the human. In fact, he only ended up focussing on the man as the number of things he didn’t know about him became suspicious. He had made a point of knowing as much as possible and appropriate about his co-workers. He had learned that helped a lot with work climate and integration. The occasional donut for Collins, a signed picture of a famous footballer for Wilson’s birthday, spending his break with Tina once to check out a local tea shop: That all was something that had made him likeable and made working a pleasant experience. But with how much he knew of them, how little he knew of Gavin was worrying.

Sure, the man was an asshole. But even assholes had personalities. There had to be at least rumours about him. But whenever he had asked someone, he had been given the same answers: ‘Reed? Yeah, he worked here for some time.’ ‘He’s an asshole, it seems to be worse with androids.’ ‘Pfft… Nah, he keeps to himself, don’t know anything about him.’ So he wasn’t alone with not knowing, he just was alone with worrying about that fact.

One quiet day, he decided to do some personal research into that mystery. Every human was known to the world in some way or another. Date of birth. Date of graduation. Date of Employment. Criminal record. Won some small prize in the lottery. An Address. Anything. And that was when things got truly confusing. He looked over at the man and felt how his eyes suddenly darted away to movement that he had thought to see at the edge of his vision. He never managed to look at the human for longer than a few minutes. Something was seriously wrong.

‘Connor? Can I speak with you for a moment? In private?’ Connor looked up from his work, then to the clock. He shrugged. ‘Sure. I can take my break early. What can I help you with?’ They left the precinct through the back entrance to have some privacy and Nines began with a sigh. ‘It’s about Gavin.’ ‘Did he do anything to you? Did he harm you?’ ‘No!’, Nines quickly said. ‘No, he didn’t do anything. But he is weird. I… I did some research and…’ ‘Wait. You “did some research”? What are you talking about?’ Nines held his hands up to calm him. ‘Connor, please listen to me, it will all make sense in a minute. How much do you know about Reed?’ ‘Nothing much, he’s an asshole. Otherwise he keeps to himself. Worked here for a long time.’ ‘How long?’ ‘How should I know?’ ‘How long did Person work here?’ ‘For twelve years, exactly a month from now.’ Nines stared at him triumphantly.

‘Hey, I haven’t looked into his file, okay? Never even talked to him. That doesn’t mean anything.’ ‘Well, I looked into it’, Nines picked up where Connor left off. ‘He doesn’t even work here. Officially. There is no file in the systems for his person, his name is only listed as being employed by the city. There is a birth year at least, but no school. No educational record, no graduation paper. Nothing. There is an address, but the place had been towed down ages ago.’ ‘Maybe he forgot to update it. Or Fowler knows and hadn’t updated his new address yet.’ ‘And the missing documents?’, Nines tried to convince him. ‘What about those?’ ‘Humans can be sloppy sometimes. Especially with bureaucracy.’ ‘May I remind you the entire HR department is run by androids by now?’, Nines threw his final punch. ‘It’s quite funny when you think about it.’ Connor held his head as if he had forgotten he couldn’t get headaches. ‘Nines, you are paranoid. The guy really isn’t that important.’

But Nines didn’t let himself be shut down. ‘There is more actually. Chris complained about the coffee being empty, right? That was yesterday, a Thursday. Correct?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And I personally restocked Monday the week before! Tina drinks tea, Chris can’t drink too much or his stomach acts up. With the regular caffeine intake of the rest of them, it shouldn’t be depleted yet.’ ‘So?’ ‘Someone drinks an unhealthy amount of coffee, I would even dare say it would kill a human or at least leave them with serious health issues. And only Gavin is left if you keep an eye out.’ Connor sighed: ‘Or someone dropped the package, spilled half of it and cleaned up the mess into the bin.’ ‘Okay, then how do you explain this: Reed is always here when someone arrives. No matter how early I rise from stasis, he is already there. As if he never left. And then sometimes he spends entire days away and no one bothers!’ ‘Vacations and overtime are a thing.’ Nines shook his head. ‘There is no car standing in the parking lot that belongs to him, I looked after everyone was gone. Yet, there is a key to a car on his desk.’ ‘Maybe he parks somewhere else, because he likes to go on a walk after a long day of sitting around.’ ‘Connor!’ ‘No, Nines, you are paranoid. That’s all. You should slow down maybe. Or take some days off. The man is just your regular asshole who is decent enough to be professional and do his job. And that’s all.’

Nines was desperate. He had thought that at least if pointed to it, the other RK would notice. ‘Then what about the fact that I have never seen him eat something once? And he keeps framed pictures of his cats, but he has no cat hairs on himself!’ ‘Nines, please, you need to calm down. If I didn’t know it any better, I’d say you are stalking him. Please stop. Believe me when I say Reed is as unimportant as someone could be. You are certain of the way things seem to be and now you search for evidence to prove your point. But we are detectives. We find evidence and conclude.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I worry for you. Please, take a break from work. How is your house-hunting?’ ‘Haven’t found a flat yet.’ ‘Do you want to live with Hank and me? We could make room for you for a few days. You need to get out of here.’ Nines deflated as he saw he couldn’t win. ‘That’s nice of you, Connor. But I guess I’ll just think about what you said and try to get back to work.’

In truth Nines didn’t think about anything Connor had told him. If anything, his words had only made it clearer to him that something is wrong. He had to take matters into his own hands.

Gavin startled as a coffee cup was put on his desk with an audible thump. He looked up. ‘Hello, I’m Nines. I already introduced myself but we never really talked.’ Gavin stared at the nosey android and frowned. ‘And I already told you to phck off. Nothing has changed since then.’ ‘No need to be so aggressive, Detective. I always see you working. I believe I never actually saw you taking a break.’ ‘Well, I like work and I’d like to get back to it, tin-can.’ ‘Tin-can? Oh, that’s a new one’, the android answered and smiled at him. Goddamnit. ‘Listen, I don’t know what you are on about, but I don’t want to talk. I’ll say it one last time: Phck off!’ This… Nines… pouted at him. ‘Come on, I got you a coffee, the least you could do is answer me one question!’ Gavin sighed and leaned back. ‘Fine. One question. And then you’ll go!’ He hoped his form didn’t show how nervous he was.

‘What do you like?’ Compared to everything he had expected that was quite harmless and caught him off-guard. ‘What?’ The android continued to grin at him. ‘What do you like? Food, hobbies, doesn’t matter.’ ‘Oh, okay, err… I like cats. And… Coffee.’ ‘Are those yours?’, the android asked pointing at the framed pictures. ‘Hey, you said one question, then you’d be leaving me alone!’ The android lifted his hands. ‘Alright, fine. I’m leaving. Was nice talking to you!’

Gavin couldn’t help looking after the machine that was leaving now. Damn nosy androids would be his downfall someday. He turned back to his work, the smell of coffee distracting him. He glanced over to it and finally succumbed to taking and drinking it. He wasn’t ashamed by the fact that he was addicted to it ever since he first tried it in the 15th century. It was one of the pleasant experiences of his existence. He had lived on this world for eons now, maybe he had been around right from the start. But you could only spend so many billion years until you got bored and wanted to try something new. He had lived among humans ever since a massive migration to a continent a large part of the world never even knew about. It was easy to fit in when no one asked where you came from and everyone was eager to start a new life. And Gavin fit in nicely. He sowed enough information to saturate most and those who wanted more he used his powers on to become totally ordinary. So ordinary that most didn’t even notice him. He was living a peaceful life, working on farms, later with railroads and the industry. He liked the concept of lifetimes to justify changing from one job to another and discovering new interesting ways to fake being human. This lifetime he had decided to spend just relaxing. He played the average human that made it Detective and since then worked away solving mysteries and cuddling with cats when coming home.

He couldn’t have known this would be the time humanity decided to change once again. They decided to design machines, androids. They looked human but were designed to obey. Why exactly was it that humanity wished for some kind of slavery every few hundred years? He didn’t care for it too much as they were just machines. Sure, his powers didn’t work on them like they did with humans, but as he was seen as one of them, he could just order the androids to go away and leave him alone. And then deviancy happened. Humans had tried perfecting them so much, they accidentally created life. Gavin knowing humans had decided to wait it out. Too easy he could fake his death and return to his normal existence. But he had been living within them in peace successfully so far. He really didn’t want to change that. So, he waited. Waited until the revolution happened. And too his distress, the androids won.

Ever since he had tried to move on the streets as little as necessary. He spent almost all of his days in the precinct where he was safe from them minus Connor. And the bot he could easily get rid of by changing his attitude to grumpy and abrasive. He thought it might work out. But this new android was a pain in the ass. Nosey as hell and apparently determined to get to know him. Well, someday his luck had to run out and it seemed the time had come.

He spent his remaining day at his terminal, until he felt eyes on him again. He tried to subtly look up and met the damned android’s cheeky grin as he entered the stasis booth. The machine even gave him a little wave. Gavin felt his powers bristling underneath his skin, warning him he had been spotted, but with grit teeth he forced them down. Phck, he needed to relax. He switched off his terminal and headed outside. He hurried through the streets until he finally found an empty back alley without CCTV. It really had been easier in the olden times. Quietly he let go of the charade and got rid of his fake skin. Finally, he could stretch and brush against corners, making natural shadows more refined and let them stretch to take him. Oh, he had missed that feeling. Excitement bubbled inside him as he scaled the city, slithering from one shadow to the next through the narrow spaces in brickwork and underground where there was no connecting darkness to act as a convenient passageway. More than once androids looked towards him, but he just hurried away before they could investigate. Damn machines.

He finally made it home, faster than any car or train could and let himself inside through the letter box. Only then he reformed his human appearance and got to his knees, greeting his cats with maybe one or two arms too many. Not that they would care, they just wanted their pets. Gavin sighed, the fluffy fur under his hands just the perfect way to destress from a long day. He fed them and switched on his stereo to blast music as loud as the cats would allow. He had more than enough time to settle everything with the nosey android. He would be fine.

‘You forgot your keys yesterday!’, he was greeted as he walked into the bullpen. He could only frown at the android standing beside his desk, dangling them from one finger. Gavin saw red and pulled them from the man, maybe having moved a little too fast for a human. ‘Give them back!’ He looked down on them and carefully put them down in their usual spot. ‘How did you come home then? You couldn’t drive with your car.’ ‘I don’t have one, phck off!’, Gavin shouted. ‘Then why do you have keys?’

Phck. He felt his powers acting up, but it only managed to avert the human gazes from the disturbance. The android didn’t bulge. Shit. A human explanation, quick. Oh, right, parents were a thing! ‘They are my dad’s, he… He died in a car crash. They are the only thing I’ve got left of him.’ It technically wasn’t even a lie. Nowadays he often faked his death so he could inherit his own belongings and one of them had indeed been a car crash. ‘Oh. I’m sorry.’ The android really looked like he meant it. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’ ‘Well then go and-‘ ‘Can I make it up to you?’ Oh phck no… ‘There is a cat café that just recently opened up. I thought-‘ ‘What is a cat café?’, Gavin asked, momentarily forgetting he wanted the android gone. ‘Oh, it’s a regular café, but cats are roaming around. I thought you’d like it.’ ‘I… That does sound interesting.’ ‘It’s a deal then! I’m looking forward to it!’ ‘No, I-‘ But the android had already left. Gavin let his shoulders fall. It wouldn’t hurt playing human for a break, right? He had done so before. Sure, it broke his rule of never mingling too close with humanity, but it couldn’t really go wrong, right?’

It was awkward at first. They had entered and sat down on two comfy chairs and didn’t manage to speak a word until the waiter came. They ordered their drinks and it returned to the uncomfortable silence. Until one of the cats decided to jump onto Gavin’s lap. The android had laughed at his surprised face and Gavin had begun to pet her. ‘You are good with cats’, he commented. ‘Yeah, I love them’, Gavin answered. ‘Just… calms you down I guess.’ ‘I never got to pet one.’ ‘Really?’ Gavin could understand that human lives were short and that not everyone had the pleasure of strolling along the streets of early civilisations and pet every fluffy beast in existence, but it did surprise him. ‘You really have to!’

The android looked around and tried to get the attention of one of the cats wandering about. The look of pure wonder on the android’s face as the cat headbutted his hand for the first time touched something in Gavin and he chuckled. The android looked back up while still petting the cat and smiled back. Only as the cat decided they had enough did the android return to the table. ‘I really wonder why everyone was so sure about you being an asshole’, Nines began talking. ‘I mean, I don’t really know you yet, but you are nice company.’ ‘I tend to keep to myself’, Gavin muttered, looking down on the cat that still hadn’t moved and curled herself up on his legs. ‘Made some bad experiences I guess.’ ‘I think we should do this more often’, the android said. As much as Gavin wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to truly disagree.

They met a few times afterwards. They often spent their breaks together in the café and with time Gavin thought that maybe he didn’t have to isolate himself all the time. But he always shut these thoughts down and thought of the android as an exception. One evening Nines had insisted to come over and see Gavin’s cats, what had brought Gavin into the zugzwang to explain some of the by now ancient things he had collected over the years. ‘I’m interested in history’, he bluffed. ‘Archaeology is a pet peeve of mine. So I tend to collect.’ Surprisingly, the android had bought it and instead admired his “collection”. It had ended in multiple visits to museums and exhibitions. Not that Gavin really minded. It was a fun distraction and his lie about being a history enthusiast wasn’t that far fetched when he could tell a few first-hand stories from when he had been there himself.

It was about a month later that they had come back from one of these exhibition trips and the android had dropped him off at his apartment. The android had hugged him goodbye, something he would never get tired of, and was about to go. ‘Are you going back to the precinct?’, he blurted out out of nowhere. ‘Yes’, Nines had answered. ‘Detroit’s housing market is awful. Haven’t got a flat yet.’ ‘Do you want to… I mean you could stay here if you want to.’ The android had stared at him wide eyed and Gavin started to regret his impromptu decision until Nines threw him a smile and nodded politely. That evening Gavin ended up on the couch next to Nines watching TV until the android appeared to have entered stasis. In the silence that followed, he began to think about his life choices. What was he doing? He was an eldritch shadow being from the dawn of time. Nines was an android he had no power over. And something was clearly growing between them. It was evident in the way Nines had snuggled up next to him, the cats all over them. This couldn’t work. What if Nines found out? What if he would rat him out to anyone? Humans he could fool, but androids would be able to follow him to the end of the world. He had made a huge mistake.

And still: listening to the hum of the android’s thirium pump he couldn’t find to regret it. Quite the opposite was the case.

The next morning was filled with more excuses. Why didn’t he have a kitchen? Why didn’t he have any food at home? Gavin had mumbled something about always getting something at the food trucks and stressed they would be late. Apparently, Nines took that information with only a sigh, too. One Catastrophe evaded.

Off to face the next one: As they entered the precinct together, Gavin froze as he found his desk occupied. By Connor. And the other android was staring at them with determination. ‘You two. Interrogation room. Now.’ Gavin was about to protest, so did Nines, but the other RK stopped them: ‘I said now!’ So, they trotted over, and Gavin knew he had phcked up. He had set up these rules for a reason. How could he think he could start a relationship with an android would somehow work out?

‘Nines, I believe you now.’ Nines frowned in return as they entered and exchanged a look with Gavin. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘What you told me about him. It’s true! It’s like he isn’t even existing! And everything you told me was true! There are so many discrepancies with him that something has to be wrong.’ Gavin felt panic creeping in. What? What had these two androids talked about? What had he missed? ‘No, Connor, you were right’, Nines disagreed. ‘There is a logical explanation for everything. I was just paranoid, as you said. I just knew nothing about him because I never even spoke with him.’ ‘Oh and now suddenly everything is perfect? What are these explanations then?’ Nines sighed. ‘What do you want to hear from me?’ ‘The keys?’ ‘Memorabilia of his deceased father.’ ‘The cat hairs?’ ‘Either I must have missed something or he had just washed his clothes. Scan Gavin now and you’ll see a bunch of cat hairs.’ ‘What the hell are you two talking about?’, Gavin asked. ‘You are hiding something!’, Connor growled his way. ‘And I won’t rest until I know what it is!’ Gavin took an instinctive step back. Oh no… ‘Connor’, Nines directed the other RK’s attention back to him. ‘I spent the last months with him. He really isn’t as bad as you think and he clearly isn’t hiding anything.’ ‘Oh, is that so? Have you seen his home then?’

Nines puffed out his chest. ‘I have, actually. In great detail.’ He challenged Connor by staring him in the eyes. ‘Wait what?’ That had caught Connor off-guard at least. ‘You two… You aren’t… No.’ ‘Yes’, Nines grinned. ‘And you should trust the android with the more advanced analysis tools that he is as normal as a human can be.’ Connor was left just standing there, staring. ‘I… I’m not convinced, just so you know. But I trust you. Just know that I’ll be keeping an eye on you!’ ‘That’s only fair’, Nines commented, but Connor was already storming out of the room.

For a while no one moved. ‘Should we go back to the-‘, Gavin started, but was interrupted: ‘No.’ Nines pushed himself off the table and leaned against it. ‘The cams are deactivated, and the observation room is empty. No one else can hear us. I’m sorry. I should have told you earlier.’ ‘What should you have told me earlier?’, Gavin asked carefully. ‘I had suspicions about you. That’s why I initially wanted to get to know you better. I pretended everything was alright so you could tell me once you were ready. But I guess now is a good a time as ever: What are you, Gavin? Who are you? The things you own are legitimately old. A collection like this would be priceless, you could sell it for millions. Most of it belongs in a museum. And you don’t even really exist on paper. I couldn’t find your name in any hospital archives from the day you were supposed to be born and you never went to a school. Please, I need to know.’

Gavin sighed deeply and sat down. Should he tell him? Well, he had to. But what then? He guessed a prison to hold him would have yet to be built. And he could always move to another city after faking yet another death. But he didn’t want to lose this. This lifetime was meant to be relaxing and hell, with Nines he had been the most relaxed he had been for centuries. Well, he had to hope for the best. ‘No one can see us?’ ‘No one.’ ‘And no one can hear us?’ ‘Everything said here will remain between us.’ ‘You have to promise not to tell anyone.’ ‘I will as long as my duty as a police officer doesn’t call for it.’

Gavin took a deep breath. So far so good. But promises could be empty and who knew what the duty of a police officer entailed these days. But he knew he was only buying time. And so he began: ‘I am a being that has been around since the dawn of time. I am made of shadows, some worshipped me as the shadows themselves. I don’t even know if that’s true. I’ve been around for a while until I finally decided to try living as a human for a while. And it worked! I was a peaceful part of society since… Well, I took a few breaks but more or less since the 600s? It is hard pretending to be a human if you are immortal, so I travelled a lot and faked papers as much as I could. I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I like coffee and cats. The keys are from my first ever car, but I hate driving, so I got rid of it by crashing it one day.’ Nines stared at him dumbfounded. ‘I think I need proof, I can’t believe this.’ Gavin sighed and looked at the table. ‘Please, don’t freak out’, he warned, before transforming into his true form. Suddenly half the room was swallowed by darkness and Gavin showed off a bit by extending a few tendrils of shadow towards Nines. The android looked shocked at first, then bewildered and then fascinated. Nines even stepped closer. ‘You won’t hurt me, right?’ ‘I never hurt anyone’, Gavin answered, his voice coming somewhere from his centre that was still hovering over the chair. Nines extended an arm and tried to touch Gavin, who chuckled. His only feature was to consume light, he literally was the personification of the absence of light. What a dork, trying to touch that. For some reason that seemed to disappoint the android and Gavin made an effort reforming his body partially while still keeping his real self exposed.

‘And?’, Gavin asked. ‘What does this mean now?’ Nines was still staring at him. ‘You are beautiful.’ Gavin laughed, but took the android’s hand lovingly. ‘If you say so.’ ‘How did you keep this a secret for so long? Is that why you aren’t noticeable by most? I have so many questions, I-‘ ‘I would say, I explain everything to you at my home where we are safe’, Gavin offered. ‘I want to know what it means first. For us. Does it change anything?’

Nines smiled and came closer. ‘Only that I don’t have to worry about your human lifespan’, he smirked. ‘And that we can spend an eternity forever.’ Gavin sighed in relief and relaxed completely. ‘You don’t know how much that means to me.’ ‘I think I get the gist of it’, Nines shrugged and dove in for a kiss that left Gavin completely unprepared. But he had always been quick to adapt.

It took them a while to get out of that interrogation room, but thanks to Gavin’s powers no one but Connor noticed. Nines just threw him a cocky smile while making a point of sitting down on the free table opposite of Gavin’s.

Maybe Gavin Reed was a man made of shadows. It didn’t change the fact that Nines was completely engulfed in his gloom.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #eldritch being!Gavin Reed #Gavin Reed is a shadow person #Holy shit I had fun with this #I had so much more I could have written but it is already far too long for this blog #wonderful idea #I'm a fan #sorry for taking this long #Also holy shit that last sentence of yours was so damn poetic I had to steal it!

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weasleyslag · 3 years

Text

i’m not coming home | p.w

summary: A collection of letters between Percy and his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater following his estrangement from his family.

pairing(s): Percy Weasley/Penelope Clearwater

wc: 6.2k (lol I’m sorry)

warning(s): heavy cursing, hella toxic relationship, no happy ending

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30644294

Dear Percy,

See, I told you I would write! I really am so proud of you and your new job. I hope you’ll allow me to come visit your new apartment soon. I know you’re very busy, but maybe not too busy for me? My dad told me he’d pay for my stay in London if you invited me, but I think it’d be more fun for me to stay with you and go to a show or something. I heard there’s some good muggle performances down there, I’d be interested to see that sort of thing. It’d be an good change, I’m up to my head with wizards that think they’re so talented.

Please tell me all you can about your job when you write back! I know it must be super under wraps, being the Junior Assistant to Fudge himself, but I would be interested in knowing the most mundane of things you can tell me, it would most certainly be more enthralling than the highlight of any of my days. I was hoping I’d be promoted to something more dignified by now, but they’ve still got me watching over some of the Ministry workers’ children. You know I like kids, but I’d rather not be a glorified babysitter. There’s not even many learning activities I can do with them, I’m pretty much instructed to do puppet shows and other silly tasks for them all day. Hopefully someone recognizes my potential soon. Maybe since you work with Fudge now, you can say something to him???

I hate to turn this letter sour but Fred and George have gotten into contact with me this week. They’re really worried about you. They said that they’ve all written to you and the letters are always sent back, unopened. You must know this hurts them, why don’t you at least read the letters? You know they love you and I know that you really are kind at heart; you must still have love for them. I know it must have been hard for you to hear that after all your efforts, your dad doesn’t believe you’re capable of receiving such a prestigious job on your own merits. But of course they are all paranoid, what with all that happened last Spring. I hope you can find it within yourself to be the bigger person and reconcile with your family. Maybe they’ve even apologized in their letters, you’ll never know unless you read them. Don’t read Fred’s though, he’s more mad than the rest of them. I’m sure he’s thrown every name in the book at you.

I hope my next letter will be in better spirits. I hope Hermes is doing well and I hope even more so that you will adjust to life in London well.

With Love,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I cannot express with words how excited I was to receive your owl. I hope you don’t mind that I kept her for a few days, Hermes adores her and she reminds me of you. However, I also had to keep her back because it took quite some time to give you an adequate response to everything you said in your letter.

Hermes and I are well. He hasn’t adjusted as well as I have, but I understand. The air is polluted and there’s not much room for him to roam. There’s no forests in sight, only a bunch of buildings. If I wasn’t taking your letters, I would send him back to the Burrow. He was happier there and besides, the ministry has provided me a new owl for business letters.

I, on the other hand, am doing the best I ever have been. I am extremely efficient with my work and I appear to be pleasing my superiors. In my off time, I watch live shows and read. I have been getting into some Muggle classics, like War and Peace. Their culture is quite interesting, although ours is clearly superior. I am glad I am nourishing my mind as much as I can, I only wish there wasn’t so much noise outside my apartment. Jackhammers and traffic is all l I hear all day. It gets old fast. I’m not sure if you would like it here, but I would be happy to have you if you wish to visit. Although, I thought about your proposal to stay with me and I must decline. I would love to and I am sure my hormones would have a field day, but your father wants you to stay somewhere else and merely visit me during the day, trying to trick him would be wrong. I am sorry, but rules are rules, even when it comes to you.

I will speak with Fudge about your employment. I am a bit nervous to do so but I think he likes me, so I will certainly try. You’re a very smart girl and I believe if they just took notice of how you applied yourself, they’d move you up the ranks swiftly. It would be a shame to let such an academic be reduced to a daycare worker. That seems like something my mum would do if she worked. And you certainly surpass her when it comes to brains and ambition.

Dismayed is an understatement for how I feel knowing that my family has taken advantage of our relationship to try to shake me. I do not wish to speak to them now, I will only speak to them when they realize that I am right, which I hope won’t be much longer. You’re right, of course, I do have love for them, even Fred and George, but I can not continue a relationship with people that discount my accomplishments and constantly laugh at my expense. Reading their letters is pointless. I read the first letter I received from Charlie and although he tried to be eloquent, he still wasn’t seeing things my way. He was basically just regurgitating everything my dad had said, just in a kinder way. He and Bill have always been the most sensible so I see no point in attempting to read the other letters, they will only be worse versions of Charlie’s. I will admit that curiosity got the better of me, however. A letter from Fred came in the same day as yours. You were right, it was awful. I shouldn’t have expected anything more, however, that boy is barely literate. Here is a snippet of his abomination of a letter (I have fixed the spelling mistakes, there’s no reason to subject you to that):

“You are a massive cunt, you know that? After all mum and dad have done for you. Seriously? I can’t even call you a prat anymore, that’s just an insult to prat’s. You’re a slag for Fudge and we all know it. If you wanted to give him a good rimming, you could have just said so instead of causing us all this grief. Well not me, I don’t give one fuck about you. You could be in a ditch tomorrow for all I care. And maybe you will be, Fudge and his friends would just as well see you there as in an office. How could you choose him over your own mother? I hope you’re happy that you make her cry every night. I hear that you get paid three times dad’s salary and you have sent home not one knut. But twats like you don’t care about their family, huh? Enjoy your cushy apartment, I hope when you open the windows, a pigeon flies in and takes a shit on your head.”

Isn’t it just terrible? And it’s all one huge paragraph too, with unbearably non-flowy sentences. He is a right idiot if he thinks I’d ever want to respond to that. And why would I want to send money to people who treat me like that, anyway? I can’t put myself into his pea brain so I guess I will never know. Please make me take your advice next time so that I won’t have to subject myself to that kind of torture.

As for what happened this Spring, I’d rather not talk about it. The Ministry says that you-know-who is not back, so I’m afraid Harry must have been lying. Perhaps he had a fever and hallucinated the whole thing. I don’t hate him, by the way. I know my family must be trying to convince you of that but it is just not true. I think he is foolish and many adults are using him as a pawn. It’s sad, really. My family has gotten so desperate that they made Hermione and Harry write me letters too. I had already been informed by Fudge himself to turn over any correspondence from Harry, so of course I did that. I do wish I had the forethought to read the letter first, I’m very curious about it now, but oh well.

I care for you very much and hope we can arrange a visit soon.

With Even More Love,

Percy

Dear Percy,

I was hoping this letter would be more positive than the ones we have exchanged lately and that perhaps we could even arrange my trips to London, but I have gotten some terrible news. And I will not believe it until you confirm it.

There is a nasty rumour going around that you are to be court scribe for the Wizengamot in Harry’s trial. Say it isn’t true, Percy! I know it’s such an honor to work so closely with the Wizengamot, you’d be the youngest person in all of history to work as a scribe for them. But at what cost? Harry is your friend. I’ve been spending more and more time with your family and I consider Harry to be a friend now, too. I know the details of the case, and I’m sure you must since you’re apparently working it. Even if you don’t care for him, you must understand that objectively, Harry is in the right, at least morally. He was saving his cousin. The cousin that he grew up with and besides the kid being an absolute terror, he was basically his brother. Wouldn’t you cast magic to save your brothers or sister? How can you work for a case like that when you know you’d do the same as Harry?

I love you, I really do, and that’s why this breaks my heart so much. You’re turning into something that you aren’t for the sake of ambition. Please don’t do this. Come home and if Fudge truly does value you as much as you think, he will continue working with you even after you are on good terms with your family again. You must be missing them, aren’t you?

I will have to postpone the trip to London until you get all this figured out. I hope you understand. I am always open for you to come back here to visit me. We could all meet for dinner at the Burrow, where you belong.

I don’t have much else to say. I’m scared about what’s happening in the world and I’m nervous for you. I miss you, but I’m not sure if the you I miss is still you.

P.S: Tell Hermes I love him.

xxxx,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

You have heard right, at least about the Wizengamot. I beg of you not to let my family poison your mind. Clearly, they want everyone to think I’m a terrible person. If they had it their way, we wouldn’t even be together right now. It’s not their fault, really, they suffer from cognitive dissonance, but they only think with their heart. That’s not sustainable and most certainly not how the world works. The court specifically wants me to be scribe and like you acknowledged, that is a huge honor. This is really going to help me get ahead even further. You know I have big dreams. I’d like to be the Minister one day and having all this under my belt would be a big help.

I really am not allowed to be discussing the case with the public, but I suppose I will make a tiny exception for you. I can’t help but have a soft spot for you; I musn’t make bending the rules for you a habit. You’re lucky I’m even physically able to say anything. The Ministry is heavily monitoring all the mail that comes in and out from high ranking members, but they haven’t done that with me yet (as far as I know, at least). I guess it must be because I’ve been so loyal and I won’t even receive my family’s letters, so they trust me. Little do they know that I have a weakness for you.

As of right now, I’m not too worried about Harry (of course, they might change when court is in session and I get all the details). I think his case makes sense. I’ve poured through court cases similar to this one, although the defendants were never as much of a public figurehead as Harry (but that shouldn’t matter, the Wizengamot is totally unbiased and will not take Harry’s fame into account when deciding a verdict), and every court case similar to this ended in a not guilty verdict. I am not sitting as a court scribe to try to lock Harry away, it’s just my job. I don’t approve of him, but let’s not pretend like I never want him to see the light of day again. Anyway, I was surprised that someone that possesses your caliber of intelligence relied so hard on pathos to convince me that being a court scribe is wrong. Everyone knows emotion is a flimsy argument and certainly has no place in the courtroom. The fact that he saved a muggle’s life will definitely be brought up in court, but it won’t be because it’s someone he cares for. It’ll be because we have all sorts of laws about self defense and protecting each other, even a few about protecting muggles. I fear you might not have a place high up in the ministry if you continue preferring pathos to logos. And anyway, you trying to my emotion by bringing up my family makes no sense. My family are wizards, so if it came down to it, I could protect them and it wouldn’t be against the law. It’s not my fault that my family is better than those Dursley’s.

I really must beg of you to stay away from my family and especially from Harry. That will probably not end well for you. Do not mistake that for a threat, I’d never hurt you, but I’m being realistic. Harry is off the rails and my family blindly believes him. In my opinion, Harry needs to be in a mental hospital, not roaming around as a public figure where everyone hangs on to his every word. He clearly suffers from PTSD after all he went through as a child between his parents being murdered in front him, a very powerful dark wizard trying to to murder him, and the muggle abuse he endured. And that’s not even mentioning all the pressure the world, especially Dumbledore, has put on him. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just insane. If the adults around him cared as much as they say they do, they’d put him away for a while until he can heal. But they won’t, that’s the problem. And now I hear that little Ginny is in love with him. I have never in my life been so in despair. I can’t help but think how bleak her future will be. Maybe I should write a letter to her. I doubt she’ll listen, but I do need to try.

I really do hope you decide to come visit me. Maybe I can speak with your father and come to an honest agreement about you living with me soon enough. I am really lonely here and I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. It seems my family and I will never get along again and I have no one else besides you. I have all this extra income so I think it might be practical for me to marry you. Then, you wouldn’t have to hear all this rubbish from my family in order to feel close with me. I will speak with him about it soon. It’s not really all that bad here and even if you’re not good enough to have a real job in the Ministry, that’s okay. I make enough money and I do want a lot of kids anyway. It wouldn’t be practical for you to have a demanding long term job.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

Maybe I am a sensitive fool but I found much of your letter to be highly offensive. You essentially called me unintelligent throughout the letter, then didn’t ask but rather told me that you would be marrying me (only caring about what my father would say, not me). And to top it all off, you told me I was to be your personal incubator while you get to have an actual job. It’s insulting, really. What if I don’t want to do that, did you even consider that? I care for you and I believe I always will but I am not in a place right now where I fancy marrying you. I think I’d rather tie the knot with one of twins or Charlie. Besides, I felt unsettling how you alluded to muggles being lesser beings. They most certainly are not, they’re just different than us. I don’t know how I can be with someone that sees a whole group of people as lesser than them.

I must not have too much respect for myself. After all, I felt all those things that I wrote in the first paragraph, yet I’m still writing to you. What terrible damage love can have to the brain. I think I know how this whole thing will turn out, yet I still hope against my better judgement that we will end up together. I will try to put this past me if you can promise to not be so cruel.

Things are the same as always in my life. Spending most of the time with Mother and Father and the rest tending to children. I think I might die of boredom. I have been thinking about becoming a Hogwarts teacher, at least it would be less degrading than playing babysitter for a bunch of toddlers. Curiously enough, I received a letter from Snape about receiving a position, not Flitwick. He liked me well enough back in school, but I definitely didn’t think he would ever think about contacting me for a teaching role. I didn’t think he ever thought much about any student that wasn’t a Slytherin. I think maybe he sees himself in me. You know I was treated pretty horribly throughout school and something tells me he might have gone through a similar experience. That aside, however, he wrote me a letter requesting my presence to a meeting in a few weeks. It’s a meeting with all the current teachers, so I’m quite nervous about it. They want to speak with me about a new class, I think, it wasn’t any sort of curriculum I was familiar with. Still, I’m heavily considering it. It would be a big step up. I am a little worried about moving out there, but I think I’ll be alright.

I know you act like you don’t care about how your family is doing, but that’s all it is, an act. So I will at least tell you the good parts. I’m sure you’ve seen by the addresses of the letters that they’re still sending you (because they care), they have moved. The Order has been restored, we’d all love to have you there, although I don’t have much hope that you would consider joining. Even Charlie and Bill have come back and joined. They miss you and I think they’re more than a little disappointed. Ginny is dating a kid named Michael Corner, not Harry. I’m sure you’re over the moon about that. Ron and Hermione have become prefects. That’s really good news, yeah? I’m not quite sure how Ron snagged it, but he did.

I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about any more conflict with you, so I won’t even bring up what you said at Harry’s trial. Just know I’m disappointed. What, I will say, however, is that it was so cruel that you didn’t even speak with your own father once court ended. I know you knew he was there. Look, I have a really bad feeling about the future and I can’t help but fear that something bad is going to happen and you’re going to regret being such an ass to them.

This letter was all over the place, I apologize. I just have all these emotions and you don’t seem to understand. Or if you do understand, you don’t care. I don’t know which is worse.

Take care,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I apologize for my behavior in my last letter. You’re right, I was only thinking of myself. I’ve just been by myself so much that I guess I find it hard to think about what other people want. I hope you can forgive me. Truly though, I think we could reconcile easier if you met me out in London. Of course only corresponding through letters has led to a strain.

Please brace yourself, because I know if you do not prepare for what I’m about to tell you, you will be very mad at me. I consulted with Fudge and we have decided that you shouldn’t become a teacher at Hogwarts. It’s not a good look for me and it’s safe for you. Dumbledore is off his rocker, I’m not going to allow you to be put in harm's way. Fudge has sent a letter to Hogwarts, strongly suggesting that they find a new candidate for their position. I agree that the role is important, kids need to learn, and you would have been a great teacher. But it’s not the right time for you. I know you will probably be royally pissed for a while, but you’ll get over it. I did it for your own good. I hope you will be happy to hear that I have talked to Fudge about you having a proper job in the Ministry and he agrees. He will be writing to you with an offer soon enough. All’s well that ends well, you get a safer, higher paying job. And you can be near me!

Yes, I knew that my family had moved. I hope they move back soon, it’s not safe for them there. You’re right, someone is going to get hurt. I can feel it in my bones. And of course I will be utterly inconsolable, but it will not be my fault if something happens. It will be Dumbledore’s and inadvertently, Harry’s. I would love to give my family advice, but I know they will not listen. Therefore, there’s no point in writing letters. Besides, even if I did want to write to them, I think Fudge would catch on and have someone start monitoring my mail. I trust the Ministry completely, but I still find it’s in my family’s best interests if the Ministry doesn’t know their exact going on’s.

I heard Ron became prefect. I’m very proud. I wrote him a letter, which the Ministry read (and unfortunately a few unkind edits to, but I’m sure it was for good reason), congratulating him. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s received it. He hasn’t written back. Maybe Dumbledore has started screening letters? I’m proud of Hermione too, although I didn’t write her a letter. You seem to speak with the lot of them often, so please send her my congratulations. She’s such a smart and sweet girl, she’s a good match for Ron (I can tell he likes her). I would have preferred a Pureblood but oh well, she’s better than most muggles. Oh and speaking of people dating, yes I am very pleased that Ginny has found a nice guy that’s not Harry.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

Before I write anything else, I must address your hilarious claim that Dumbledore is monitoring letters. Ron got your letter, read it, then proceeded to burn it. He found it very offensive. He’s not happy with you, so maybe don’t send him more letters.

Fred and George are still mad, more than everyone else. George invited me out last week, I think only because he knew it would get a rise out of you. Fred’s the maddest of them all, as you know so well from his letters, but he’s with Angelina Johnson, so he couldn’t take me on the “jealousy date”. I don’t really fancy George, don’t worry, and I don’t think he fancies me. I must admit, however, that it was a nice time. It was a welcome change to listen to someone talk to me about their interests instead of being obsessed with a job. It was even more welcome that he asked me questions back and seemed to actually care about my responses. My favorite thing, though, was going out with someone that cared so much for their family. Someone that not only understood romantic love, but also platonic and familial love. I’d been missing that part of you for a while. But like I said, I don’t fancy him. I didn’t even let him kiss me. I feel guilty about it all, of course, I’d like to come down to London and try to get things in our relationship to run smoothly again.

Also, yes, I am very upset that you had that letter written to Hogwarts. You totally crossed a line and if I had any balls, I would have broken up with you over it. But alas, I really do want to make it work. This is another thing that I think we need to work on together. In London. Please tell me your thoughts.

With care,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

Literally, what the fuck? I saw red when I read your letter. You. Went. Out. On. A. Date. With. My. Brother? And the little traitor tried to kiss you? I had half a mind to challenge him to a duel. But you’re right, he’s just trying to get me to act out and he will not get that out of me. There are so many problems with our relationship right now and I cannot bear to let you go, so we must meet and work things out immediately. And I’m not coming home, so you must come here. I’ve taken a week off at the Ministry, please arrive here as soon as you receive this letter. I will not be bested by the likes of George Weasley and a few other misunderstandings I may have thrown your way.

No need to write back,

Percy

Dear Percy,

I am so glad we had that meeting in London! I really do feel like we’ve fixed things. It makes me so happy that you have agreed not to be so unkind with your words in the future. And as promised, I have decreased contact with your family and all the other members of the Order. George has written me about a dozen letters since then, checking up on me and filling me in on what’s going on with your family. But as promised, I have not written back. If I expect you to uphold your part of the agreement, I must hold myself to the same standard.

I think I will take that secretary job Fudge offered me. It’s not all that you made it out to be, but at least I can be near you. I’m still too wary to marry you, after all it hasn’t been too long since we were falling apart, but I think it would be nice to be physically closer to you. I’ll see what I can do in terms of flats, since you’re too prudish to lend me room in yours.

Love you lots,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I don’t have much time to write at the moment, I’m very busy, so please excuse the short letter. I, too, am glad we are doing better. It was impacting my efficiency at work and I could not have that. I’m just glad there’s no more Fred and George, they were trying to hijack your mind and make it theirs. Besides, I have heard from more than one female that has come into contact with them, that they are basically a pair of incubi. I know you think I’m dramatic when I say that, but those two boys have turned evil, I know it. I should have seen the clear signs. It was so obvious from the time that they were little boys, chasing poor Ron with spiders.

Thank Godric that you are coming to join me at the Ministry! I can keep a close eye on you there, make sure you’re safe. I know the job isn’t glorious, but not everyone is as fortunate as me. You have to work your way up. I know you’ll have a very important job in no time. And I never said I wouldn’t let you live with me by the way, I said that I didn’t want your father to become cross with me. You really shouldn’t call me a prude, or do you not remember what all went in London when you came to visit? I didn’t think it was quite that forgettable, but I’ll just have to remind you when you move here.

Love,

Percy

Dear Percy,

I’m sorry for the distance between letters. I meant to write, I really did, but everything went to shit here. I know I said I would distance myself from your family, but George wrote to me and said that your father is in the hospital. So now I’m back to semi-living with them. Did you not read your mother’s letter about it, Percy? She marked it “urgent” on the envelope. Your father was utterly distressed that you didn’t even write, much less visit him. It made his recovery harder and longer. Don’t you still care even a little bit? What if he had passed, wouldn’t you have felt so guilty?

Also, your mother collapsed and fell into a fit of tears when you sent your Christmas jumper back. Why didn’t you just keep it? It would have spared her feelings, even if you think you’re too good for the sweaters now. She made me a sweater, I loved it. But oh well, please think about the repercussions of your actions on others. You’re making it very hard on all of us. Also, Fred wants me to let you know that he wants to bring back drawing and quartering just for you. George is more straight to the point, vowing to castrate you if you two ever cross paths again (by the way, they both thought your incubus comment was very funny, I think it inflated their ego).

I know you are on the Ministry’s side, saying that Voldemort is NOT back, which is horseshit and you know it. But you do know who attacked your father, yes? Surely that should be enough proof for you. You’re very smart, why are you letting an institution think for you?

With peace and love,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I am slightly dismayed that you didn’t keep up with your end of our agreement, going back to speak with my family. I do understand, though, my father’s attack was a shock and could have ended tragically. I know he’s better now, though, so please cease contact again.

On a similar note, yes, I did read Mum’s letter and know that he was in the hospital. I sent flowers anonymously, if that means anything to you. And I kept tabs on him from the Ministry. If I felt that things were going downhill and he wasn’t going to make it, I would have visited. But he was fine, so it’s not a big deal. Maybe he will learn to not poke his head where it doesn’t need poking from now on.

As for the sweater, it’s not that I didn’t want to keep it. I love her sweaters, I wear some of the old one sometimes. But keeping the sweater would have sent a completely wrong message and given her false hope. So really, sending it back was a selfless act.

I know you want me to say that You-Know-Who is back. But you just don’t understand. I represent the Ministry now. What they say goes. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my own thoughts, it simply means that I stand with them.

Just wanted to remind you that you’re very beautiful and I miss your kind heart. I can’t wait for you to move here.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

I am most certainly NOT moving to be with you in London after the stunt you pulled. Betraying Dumbledore and holding Harry in place whilst being questioned by Fudge? What a dick move. I don’t know what I expected, you provided me all the warning signs. I guess that when it mattered, you’d do the right thing. Now I see how wrong I was. I need some time to myself, and you need to think over in your heart why you thought it was okay to do what you did. You just better be glad that Fudge sent you out before you got smacked the fuck up by Dumbledore.

From the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, fuck you

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

This is the fifth letter I’ve sent to you in a row with no response, please answer. I know I shouldn’t have done what I did and I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed, really I am, but I’ve dug myself too deep. I miss you, I miss Ginny, I miss Charlie, I miss Bill, I miss Ron, I miss Mum and Dad. I even miss Fred and George. But it’s too late. I wish I had seen it before. They were right, you were right. I can’t let them know that. I feel so ashamed. I want to help them, but I also want to never bother them again. I saw You-Know-Who in the Ministry. I know all along that he was back, but I kept denying it for my job. But now I don’t have my family and I don’t have you, so my job is all I have. Please know that anything you see from me from this moment forward doesn’t represent my heart. You’re right, I don’t remember how many letters ago it was, but you said I wasn’t the person you fell in love with. You couldn’t have hit the nail on the head any better. There’s barely any left of that Percy, just his shell. So really, I shouldn’t be talking to you at all. I’m not the person you committed to. But I still love you. It’s total wishful thinking that I can have you back, but hoping is the only thing that keeps me from going insane. Bill wrote me a letter saying that he was engaged. I don’t want to face my family but I’ll go if I can see you.

Love, Percy

Percy,

I felt like I should write you one last letter because despite myself, I still care. I want to give you closure. It’s clear to me that you’re never coming home, which is clear symbolism that you are never going to do the right thing. You said it yourself in your letters, you’re digging your heels in and standing by the ministry. You’re a filthy coward.

Yes, Bill is getting married in a few months. We’re all very busy with preparations, it seems like that’s the only good thing that’s happening around here. You have an invitation, of course, but you shouldn’t come if you just want to see me. If I see you, I will make a scene and there will be more than just mashed parsnips being thrown at you (yes, Fred and George told me about how you visited just for the benefit of the Ministry. It’s pathetic, really). Your mum is convinced you will show up to the wedding and everything will be magically better. I know you better than that. I wish I was in blissful ignorance and thought you still loved us all, but you don’t. You’re not going to be able to get your head out of your ass until it’s one of us that’s laying lifeless somewhere because of the monsters of people that the Ministry have allowed to roam for so long. I know where you stand and you know where I stand. So there’s nothing else to say.

I’m sending back all the things of yours that I have. You should receive them all with this letter. Please write back if I missed anything.

Sincerely,

Penelope Clearwater

#percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter

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ajokeformur-ray · 3 years

Note

Hey can I get some headcanons of your relationship with your F/O parents bc y’all are such a cute family dynamic and I wanna hear more about how you all interact🥰💗

and @arianatheangelworld

asdfghjkl; omgggg~ you’re all gonna kill me asghj 🥺😭😭thank you darlings omggg ~ 🥰🥰🥰💗 I hope that you all enjoy this, it’s always so bittersweet but also so comforting and fun to explore my dynamic with my parental F/Os and, well... isn’t that the point of it all?💖 Thank you thank you thank you for supporting and enabling me omggg ~ 💙😊

Word count: 3, 184 (holy shit I am so sorry... not😂)

It’s a quiet life, but there’s lots of underlying tensions beneath it all.

By quiet, I mean because I spend my days in my bedroom studying (not so far from reality, these relationships😂) but there are underlying tensions because no one in the household knows who Edward Hyde really is - it’s a secret between my parents and I.

What that means is that it’s tricky for Papa and myself to spend time with one another if other members of the household are awake - as far as they are concerned, Father is my parent and so is Mama, and Papa has no part in that. So as you can imagine, questions would be raised if Papa and I are caught spending too much time together (plus, this is set in the Victorian Era, so you can imagine the scandal of an unmarried twenty-three year old woman spending lots of time alone in a room, unchaperoned, with a man old enough to be her father...)

This is why Papa and I only have our time together late into the night, when said members of the household have gone to bed and it’s only my parents and I who are awake. It’s safer for all of us that way - it protects Father and his name, his reputation and his career, which in turn protects the household members from being turned out onto the streets due to a lack of employment and this in turn protects Father’s family, who always come first.

From the moment I wake up, my parents are there. As you’ve probably gathered from previous posts, I sleep with my parents a lot so it isn’t unusual for me to wake up with one of them. Rare and special occasions mean that I get to wake up with Mama and either Father or Papa.

Mama’s always up by five in the morning or she’ll fall behind on her chores so if she’s the one I slept with in the night, then I’ll get up when she does. She always insists that I go back to bed and that I go to sleep, but I rarely do. I much prefer to have those early hours with her so that I can help her with her chores and maybe, if I’m very lucky... I’ll get to be the one who takes Father his breakfast tray so that I get to see him early in the morning and so that I can crawl into his bed and get me some extra cuddles before I start my day.

If I sleep in with Father, then the opposite happens and I’m woken up when he gets brought his breakfast tray (7 AM on the dot!), and of course I end up getting up when he does because even though he won’t kick me out of his bed, he also knows that if he leaves me to my own devices in a soft, warm bed, I’ll end up falling asleep until noon and then I’ll beat myself up about it, so he makes sure I am awake and up before he’s done with his breakfast (and if Mama knows I slept in with Father, she’ll bring me some breakfast too!) to save me any emotional distress.

Father always wakes me up gently... up until a certain point. He will shake me gently while saying my name, which usually gets a sleepy groan from me. Then, it’s onto talking, with his voice going from a whisper and increasing in volume until he’s just above his normal speaking level. He never raises his voice at me and we all know why. If that doesn’t work, then Father will just “accidentally” pull the covers off of me. He isn’t subtle, but he also isn’t mean about it, and if I do genuinely need some more sleep, then he will let me have that. But for the most part, he makes sure that I’m up once he is on the nights I’m in his bed.

I never ever get to wake up with Papa. It just doesn’t happen for various reasons. Firstly, because Papa’s constantly moving around like a lion stuck in a cage and he loves me dearly but not enough to stay in one place for more than a few hours unless he’s already sleeping. Secondly, because he can’t be caught in my bed or vice versa by anyone other than Mama to protect Father’s name etc. Thirdly, I may wake up to Papa crawling into my bed or easing himself in his own if I fell asleep in his bed, but I don’t ever get to start my day with Papa. Our time is night time and that has to be non-negotiable. It does upset me if I wake up in an especially needy mood, but Father and Mama will get me through the day in the meantime.

Mama likes to sneak me items of Papa’s or Father’s clothing to wear when I go to bed. She’s not supposed to but Mama is sleight of hand and I can be quick when I need to be. She and I often have silent conversations in a crowded room and all it takes is for Mama to “accidentally” make a noise, like a quick scuffing of her boot on the floor or for her knuckles to make a noise against the wooden table and I just look at her. Mama catches my eye and then gives me A Look before she turns back to her ironing. I walk past and at the point where our lower bodies are hidden by the ironing board, she stuffs an unironed shirt in my hand (usually Papa’s) and I walk off, the shirt stowed away under my arm and then placed for safe-keeps under my pillow for the night time. Sometimes it might be one of her night-dresses, but I am comfier in either Papa or Father’s clothes.

There are so many secrets between myself and my parents which are kept from the other members of the household. Between all three of us, we manage it as best as we can, though I have no doubt that the others think we're a little odd. 😊

There are periods which are weeks long where Father is so busy in his laboratory that no one sees him. It's communication .via. letters on the stairs and that's all anyone hears from him. Mama and I worry immensely but Father's always been this way and all we can do is be patient and wait for him. He's a workaholic and he often makes himself sick from all of the working and everyone in the household knows what to do when these times arise, which are getting more frequent as Father gets older.

In especially bad times, even Mama won't be able to get through to Father. I get upset if that's the case, because if he shuts away the one person he loves above all else, it's a serious warning sign. Mama and I have a pact that if she can't get through, then I will. Father is always so protective of me, and now it's my turn to protect him. I take this very seriously, understandably so, and I wait up until two or three in the morning, so late that even Mama's gone to bed and is sleeping. I wait in his study for that time, reading one of his old medical journals, and then I go downstairs, out the back door, and into the laboratory.

It's freezing in there because there's where Father used to carry out dissections and lectures back before his illness (never canonically diagnosed but it's believed to be depression or similar) got worse, so I always take him his old smoking jacket (which doubles as my blanket when I take naps in his study). By this time in the night, Father will be so tired and sleep-deprived that he's more likely to be honest with me, and it's for this reason that I also stayed up so late - Father will assume I'm unable to sleep because I'm so worried about him, and while that's true, it's also because I know him well enough to know what time of night is best for an intervention. Yes, it's slightly manipulative on my end of things, but I am my Papa's daughter and it's with good intentions so I don't linger on this thought for too long. It won't do me any good and my Father's most important. I'd do anything for him.

I find Father where I knew he would be - scribbling in a journal by candlelight, his fingers covered in ink, his hair a mess, yawning every few seconds. A cold plate of mutton is left forgotten by his elbow, only half eaten. I'm just like him when I study so I don't lecture my Father on his bad eating habits -he and I have the same work ethic so I would be a hypocrite to tell him off for something he usually tells me off for. I announce myself by putting his smoking jacket over his shoulders. Father pulls the jacket around himself with a shiver and I smile. You're welcome.

"You should be in bed, Erika." Father frowns in disapproval and I almost want to call him out on his hypocrisy.

"So should you," My tone is sharp with worry and frustration and Father takes a moment to look at me - I never speak to him like this. "Mama's really worried about you. So am I. We haven't seen Papa for weeks, and we - " Just like always, my anger turns to upset and I move away, trying not to cry.

"Erika." I turn back to my Father and I see that he has tears in his eyes, too. He's hurting and even though he's been trying to find a cure for years, he's never been able to find one which really helps him. "I am sorry, I - my work, it is. Well, let's not discuss the details." A pause. Neither of us know what to do, even when there is no one to see or hear us. "Come here." He pats his lap and I make a happy noise, which makes him smile. I love sitting on my Father's lap - it's been something I've done ever since I was a child and it always makes me feel so safe.

I go and I sit on my Father's lap (and have a quiet cry - he knows but he doesn't say anything about it because he doesn't want to embarrass me) and he continues to work, but as the hours drag on and we both get increasingly tired, Father knows that the time for working is over. On these nights when I manage to find my Father in his own mind and pull him back with just my presence (and my very existence is a reminder of what he holds most dear), I also spend the night in his bed.

"Thank you, Erika, for..." Father trails off, but I know what he's saying to me.

I snuggle into his bed, feel my Father kiss my forehead and whisper his love, and then I sleep.

The night is half the battle - getting Father to take a break tomorrow morning will be an even bigger battle, but by then Mama will be awake and we'll work together to save Father from himself.

It's not the first or the last time, but all of us in the family have our Own Moments which require special attentions and solutions, and we love each other even harder during those times.

The reunion with Papa after getting Father to take a break from his weeks of working always makes me cry, too.

Over the years, it's become almost a... tradition, of sorts, for Papa to greet me this way after a long separation.

I could be doing anything - reading in Father's study, writing in my bed, studying at my desk - and all of a sudden, out of nowhere -

"Erika."

Whispered so casually, so quietly, but my entire body freezes. I know that voice anywhere. I drop whatever I'm doing, I tear up, and I turn, slowly...

Papa's smirking at me, a cold and calculative look in his eyes, but I'm not afraid. I'm not even nervous. Anyone else would make me step back with this look, but not Papa. No.

"Oh, my - Papa!" I step forward into his embrace and I melt into the parent I've been missing most of all. I cry, of course I do, and Papa says nothing about it (he and Father aren't so different at all, once you get to know them, though I'd never tell them that. Or Mama. It's a thought I keep entirely to myself.) because he doesn't see why he should need to; he only holds me tighter.

I can almost hear his fond eye roll and it makes me smile.

"It's difficult to understand someone who is entirely incapable of asking for what he most wants, wouldn't you agree? You're the only one he listens to," our daughter.

There is pride in Papa's voice but just like always, I can hear what he doesn't say, just as he hears what I don't say. It's just how it is between us; Papa and I have a level of understanding between us which we don't have with anyone else.

That night, Papa sleeps in my bed with me. I'm never ready to say goodbye to him, or goodnight, either. The following conversation is a nightly ritual because of this:

"Just five more minutes, Papa?"

"I'll be here tomorrow night. you know that. Sleep, child."

"But - "

"Erika."

A warning. No one else receives warnings from the Edward Hyde and lives to tell the tale. So I listen.

"Fine." I know he will be with me tomorrow night. "Stay with me 'til I fall asleep?"

Papa sighs, rolls his eyes, and pointedly lays down, watching me the whole time. I couldn't hide my smile if I tried, so I don't even bother to - Papa taught me to show my emotions and to not hide them.

"Goodnight, Erika."

"'Night, Papa. Love you."

A kiss on the top of my head, and all else fades to black.

My parents and I are very physically affectionate with one another and it's... unusual, especially if you consider the fact that it's in the Victorian Era, but the members of the household find it touching. They get hugs and affection, too! Even if they don't necessarily know how to react to it, they still do get their hugs in the morning and late at night just before they all go to bed (which is between 10 and 11, whereas I go to bed anywhere from midnight to 3 AM).

If I have a nightmare or a bad dream, I am at total liberty to climb into any bed in the house, but of course I make a beeline typically for Mama's bed. She knows nightmares well and she'll simply hold me until I feel safe, and then she'll hold me some more because I get clingy and I don't like letting go. There's been times I've cried because she let me go before I was ready for the cuddle to be over (though those times were when I was much younger) so now she just lets me decide for myself when I've had enough.

With the way I sleep with my hair in two braids, I always get a mass of tangles at the back of my head. Always. I hate it and it always makes me hesitant to brush my hair, which is now midway down my back (so I can’t not brush my hair every day), because I know it’s gonna hurt me. I’ll brush the front parts of my hair and I’ll try to brush the knots out, but it hurts so I stop and I don’t want to brush my hair.

A part of me is always tempted to just leave it, but at the same time I know from previous experience that hair knots can and will get worse, so during these times I’ll take my brush to Mama. She’s always so gentle, not just with me, but also just in her nature.

She is such a tender-hearted person and I admire her so deeply for that. She’s incredibly busy so typically I’ll leave brushing my hair until the evening, when she has more time to help me. I don’t always ask her for help with my hair, so when I do, she knows immediately that it’s because I really can’t do it myself.

“Mama, there’s a - I have a knot. Can you help me?”

A small smile and she goes to get her wooden comb. It’s gentler on knots than my own hairbrush, which pulls more than it needs to, and we both know it. Mama is so gentle that it barely hurts me, and within minutes she’s done what I’ve delayed all day.

“How do you want it tonight, Erika? One braid or two?”

I fondly roll my eyes - like she needs to ask. My smile is in my voice as I ask for two, and Mama and I get to spend some time with one another quietly enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes I return the favour by helping her brush out her hair, but she’s incredibly self-sufficient and she largely prefers to do it herself. Which is fine... I’ll find other ways to help her!😊

“Thank you, Mama.” My words are doubled up with a tight hug, and then I’m ushered off to bed because it’s late and she’s exhausted.

I technically have three parents and each one fulfills a different need for me, so all together, they meet all of my needs and I try, I try to be a daughter that they can be proud of, that they can respect and that they can love unconditionally. I try so hard every day to live in a way to honour their places in my life.

There's nothing I wouldn't do for my parents. I would die for my parents, to give them a happy ending, to give them the time to be together, but in many ways... I am that happy ending, even if things aren't perfect. It's a fight sometimes to keep secrets exactly that, but we make it work. We have to.

I tell them each and every day that I love them, I hug them and cuddle them and help them out where I can, because they deserve the world.

They are my parents and I am very grateful to and for them. They have made me who I am today and they'll be with me forever, no matter where I go or what I do or who I become. I just hope that they'll continue to walk with me for the rest of my life, because I wouldn't be alive without them... in more ways than one.

#loveletterstoledger #self-shipping #mary reilly #parental f/os #I'M CRYING OMG😭#this is OKAY TO REBLOG

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jackyjango · 4 years

Text

Mr & Mr. Xavier-Lehnsherr

Cherik Week- Day 1: Space AU/Powerbottom AU

So I couldn’t decide which I liked more- the Space AU or the Powerbottom AU, so I mixed the two and added a Mr & Mrs Smith AU also into the mix for good measure, and here is the result!

Ratings: Mature

-----

Miles and miles of slums stretch below the hull of the blackbird, dark and brooding, lighted here and there by flecks of neons and the dim starlight. The settlements below them are so unlike the illuminated skyline of Hyperion that Charles would have readily believed that they were on an alien quadrant of space if he hadn’t already known otherwise.

Charles isn't familiar with this quadrant of space-- which really is a good thing this time. If he isn't, so isn't the Agency. With Erik hijacking their escape, Charles doesn't know where they're headed to either. The prospect of running away from everything and everyone he’s familiarised all his life should agonise Charles, because if things go south, he has no means of escape. He’s simply stuck. But it doesn't. Not when Erik is setting the course for their destination beside him with a determined scowl on his face.

He trusts Erik, Charles realises. And not for the first time, Charles wonders when that happened.

If you ask his late sister, she'd probably say that Charles had always had the hots for the bad boys.

Maybe it's true. Maybe that's how Charles had ended up willingly in their marriage bed. Maybe it's the ease with which Erik fights that had drawn Charles to him-- the confidence with which he uses his body to ensure maximum destruction, the fluidity with which he flares phasers as though they were an extension of his arm. Maybe Charles had been attracted to the grace with which Erik wielded his physical form in a way Charles would never be able to in his field of work. Maybe it's the aura that swirls around Erik for being the best mercenary on the planet. Or, maybe it’s just the roguishly handsome figure Erik cuts in a leather jacket and aviators with a cigarette caught loosely between his thin lips. The thing is, Charles doesn't know. And that's a tad antithetical coming from a man who had made knowing everything his job.

Charles wasn't a field agent. No. He was far from it (He’d wanted to prove to his sister that violence and bloodshed weren't the only ways and means of espionage). He was a master extrapolator, a master manipulator; the best in the Agency. He was called on demand and assigned to cases in which the stakes were high, when tensions had to be subdued and classified and clandestine information had to be drawn out of his targets through manipulation and seduction. Just like he had been assigned to a case two years ago with the orders to glean classified information from a dangerous mercenary working for Shaw’s Agency. One, Erik Magnus Lehnsherr.

Funny, how two years later the master manipulator had ended up being manipulated. And not for the first time, Charles curses his treacherous heart.

'What do you see in him that you're willing to sacrifice your career and life?' Emma had asked him that morning after everything had gone tits up and their covers had been blown.

'He has a big dick, Emma,' Charles had replied dryly. 'And he knows how to use it.'

Though that had been one of the reasons why Charles had fallen into bed with Erik so readily in the beginning, it wasn't what had kept him there-- not entirely, at least. What had kept him there had been the good in Erik-- buried under piles and piles of hatred, anger, cynicism and narcissism, but good nonetheless-- pure and bright as a star.

'We're safe now,' Erik says, breaking the silence that had settled over them and pulling Charles out of his churning thoughts.

Erik checks the radar once more and plots a new route to their destination.

Good. Emma’s team must have lost their track and Shaw must have backed off. Or maybe their employers are just buying time to join their forces and renew their attack. Or this is just the clam before the storm and Charles and Erik will be forced to resume their run. Or they could bide their time and be prepared for Emma and Shaw when they come for them the next time. Regardless of all those possibilities, if Erik says that they're safe for now, then they’re. Charles believes him.

They cruise for a few more minutes in companionable silence as Erik sets the ship on autopilot. Ghostly settlements stretched out before them, twinkling now and again like a fading supernova, an amber river cuts through the black patches like the lightning would cut through the storm clouds.

'How much of it was fake?' Erik asks without preamble, voice inflectionless and face impassive. Apart from the obvious goes unsaid.

Charles huffs out a breath. He leafs through the memories in his mind, memories of Erik and him tangled in their bed, giving pieces of themselves to each other, memories dusted over a duration of two years in a home in Hyperion that they called theirs, and Charles realises with a high blush on his cheeks that he'd given a lot of himself in the process-- way more than what was required to keep the pretence intact.

He doesn't know where to begin, so Charles looks out of the plexiglass window into the settlements stretching below them as far as his eyes can take him. 'I wasn't lying about loving tea,’ he says, because out of everything that he’d shared with Erik in their year of marriage, that had been the first. ‘I wasn't lying about hating your smoking,’ he says, and ponders whether to continue or not, to compromise his heart more than he already has. Then again, what else has he got to lose from it?. So he ploughs on, ‘I wasn't lying about my anxiety or how much I love cuddling.’ Charles huffs out a breath. ‘Raven used to call me a cuddle whore. I wasn't lying about my sister or about drowning myself in substances after her death. I wasn't lying about my abusive step-father or step-brother. I wasn't… I wasn't lying about loving you.'

'And you?' Charles asks, turning towards Erik. A heavy weight settles at the bottom of his gut over the possibility that Erik might not share his feelings. That Erik had been the exceptional husband he had been for the last year only to further his own agenda. That every time Erik had said that he’d loved Charles, he’d only said it to fulfill his mission.

Charles’ hands begin to tremble where they're fiddling on his cuff links.

Erik smirks. 'The only thing I was lying about was liking your cooking.'

Relief floods Charles' system, heady and potent, and a boisterous laugh bubbles up from his chest. 'Why, Erik, you speak as though you're a gourmet, chef' Charles says, recovering.

'You wouldn't be saying that after I cook you dinner,' Erik says, smiling. Something in the way he says it reminds him of Erik's proposal a year and a half ago in a cafe by the road in Hyperion, only this time, there's something real behind the twinkle in his eyes. Something honest. And that's when it hits him.

'Are you trying to woo me, Mr. Lehnsherr?'

Erik grin with all his teeth. 'Only if you want to be, Mr. Xavier'

And God, he wants to be. It's a giddy thought, to be chased by someone like Erik, only this time they both know the outcome of it.

Suddenly, the coldness of his seat is unbearable. Discarding his suit jacket, Charles moves across his own seat over to Erik's and swings his leg to straddle Erik.

Erik's hands settle on his hips while Charles grabs the lapels of Erik's leather jacket. Erik's looking at him with a small smile, and something akin to wonder in his eyes.

Ah! That's why he had been drawn to Erik all those months ago, that’s why he’d fallen into bed so easily with Erik, and that’s why he blew his mission and everything he’d worked for in his life to run away into an unknown quadrant of space with the man he called his husband- to have Erik look at him like that. To have such an effect over someone as aloof and elusive as Erik. The power and head rush it had given him then had been addictive. It still is.

'Listen to me, Mr. Lehnsherr,’ Charles says as haughtily as possible, leaning down to brush his lips against Erik’s. ‘You're going to take me on a date in a respectable restaurant like a proper gentleman. You're going to kiss me goodnight after. You'll fuck me after our third date just the way l like, and if you behave, I'll even let you propose to me. For real this time.'

Erik nods slowly, as though he’d intended to all of that anyways. 'And now?' he asks, voice deep, rich and smooth like velvet.

'And now,' Charles says, rubbing his thumb gently over one sharp cheekbone. 'I'll ride you into your seat and you’ll pay me back with a scalp massage when we disembark.'

Erik smirks. 'You weren't faking being bossy either, were you?'

'I wasn't faking about a lot of things, darling,’ Charles says fondly and reaches for Erik��s belt.

#cherik #cherik fic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #cherik week #day 1 #space au #powerbottom au #mr & mrs smith au #power bottom charles #jjcherik

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ilikeyoucomic · 3 years

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Life/Comic Update Aug. 9th, 2021

Hey frens. No, the comic isn’t cancelled, we’ve been over this.

Just wanted to reach out because I feel like I’ve been kind of silent and absent in a lot of places recently and just wanted to...I dunno...mention it?

As you may know I was laid off from my stable income in February and after circling the drain of depression and fear from that I’ve been trying to find employment to no avail. Yes, despite being told to my FACE that businesses are crying for help, I’ve been rejected from every job I’ve applied for.

I am in a fortunate enough place that I have a financial safety net, although this is obviously not going to last as long as I’d hoped - my rent went up, my electric company decided to up their rates, and food costs are stupid. Honestly if they wanted to get rid of people who are loudly anti-capitalist like me maybe they shouldn’t make things so awful but I digress...

The Patreon currently doesn’t even cover my weekly grocery bill. This isn’t to guilt you into joining but to remind you that I have one. I’m terrible at marketing myself but I’m trying. I started sewing little plush frogs and everyone I talk to wants to buy one so I’m looking into finding a way to make that happen.

Other than financial bullshit, I’ve been kind of slacking off on art, too. Not out of lack of interest but because of an array, a gradient even, of physical issues I’m trying to deal with (with no insurance). I’m 90% sure last year I contracted COVID before lockdown happened - it’s left me with breathing issues that at first I just chalked up to being overweight and a blob with nowhere to work, but as time has gone on it’s becoming apparent it’s more than just my love of cheese. I’ve also started experiencing a lot of fatigue, body aches, brain fog - the usual. I’ve been just blaming it all on my lifestyle choices but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter because I’m in pain, tired, unfocused, confused, and lack desire to do anything.

Now please don’t be worried too much. I’ve been dealing with it in bouts since last year, it’s just kind of a part of me now, but I still have great days and take in beauty, serenity, joy, and love at absolutely every opportunity. I still get up and go for walks when I’m able. I exercise when I remember to and other than late night binging, I’m eating better. None of this would be possible if I had a job, to be fair, and work sucks, so I am just trying to stay afloat and EXIST the best I can.

There’s a lot out there I can’t control - climate disaster, cost of living going up, social collapse, a pandemic, being stuck in my shitty apartment because there’s no such thing as rent under $1000 in my state...but I’m doing what a lot of us are: just surviving. Making sure those that I care about and love are surviving. Keep your heads up.

Anyway, this was a lot of rambling. I’m getting my schedule back in order so I can make art more consistently. While I’m typing this my body aches and I want nothing more than to lay down for a bit and given that it’s a million degrees outside...I think I might do that.

My time belongs to me...I’m pretty lucky to have that.

Take care of yourselves and each other and, as always, I hope that future endeavors do not disappoint.

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hopetofantasy · 3 years

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‘HUMO’s big youth survey - Politics, society and religion’ - With Nora Dari (part 3)

- TW: concerns about the future, climate change, mental health - FUCK THE CLIMATE Almost half of young people says they’re not interested in politics. Bouba Kalala: “(*filled with disbelief*) What? I don’t seem to have that impression, but maybe that’s because of my bubble. We talk a lot about politics at home. Everyone should do political stuff, even the baker around the corner.” Céleste Cockmartin: “Ever since my mom went into politics, I’ve become more and more interested. But I do notice that my friends struggle to understand. Current affairs programs are really boring too. ‘De Zevende Dag’? Sorry, but I’ll fall asleep.” Bouba Kalala: “Seriously, it’s so good: drama! Intrigue! Just like ‘Temptation Island’” Céleste Cockmartin: “But young people quit when they hear all these difficult and unspecific words: bilateral, cordon sanitaire, inter-ministerial agreement, Vivaldi, socio-economic parameters, ... It’s too complicated and unclear. What are they truly talking about? It can be so simple, but unfortunately we did not chose for simplicity in Belgium.”

6 out of 10 young people think Belgium must continue to exist. That’s the same amount as much as five years ago. Céleste Cockmartin: “I might sound extreme, but why should everything be split? Belgium is very small. Big problems are asking for a bigger perspective in general: immigration, climate, crime, ... That’s one of the reasons why I’m liberal: I like the centre and cooperation with everyone, even internationally.” So you would know who to vote for? One out of three doesn’t know yet. Nora Dari: “I don’t know enough about politics to give a well-thought-out vote to anyone. If elections were tomorrow, I would need a night to study and research.” Bouba Kalala: “I’ve never voted. Last time, I stayed in bed. Not because I haven’t thought about it, but no politician could convince me. I didn’t want to participate in a fake democracy. That’s different now.” Connor Rousseau, your new employer, knew how to convince you? Bouba Kalala: “Yes. I saw him in ‘De zomer van...’ on VTM. I send him a message the same day, to ask if I could work for him. I truly believe he’s someone who wants to pull the bullshit out of politics. It only takes time. (*to Céleste*) Do you vote for your mom?” Céleste Cockmartin: “Of course, because I believe in her. She has proven that she can change things, in her own speciality and because of her 20 years of experience with the UN.” Are you concerned about the environment and climate? In the survey ‘Groen’ (= the socialist and green political party) is also doing remarkably well, at least with girls. Céleste Cockmartin: “I would love to vote for Groen, but I think some positions are the opposite to a green solution. I’m not pro nuclear energy, but at the moment, there aren’t any ecological alternatives for our production of energy. In an ideal world, every party should be green. Fortunately, you can see the classical parties fight for our climate as well.” Do you guys help the climate battle? Céleste Cockmartin: “Absolutely. I study the climate change, I separate my trash and don’t take showers longer than half an hour. I also haven’t eaten any red meat in the past year. I do eat chicken, because that’s the least polluting meat-source out there.” Nora Dari: “For two years, I was a pescotarian, where I solely ate fish and seafood. Now I eat meat again, but I do try to limit myself to chicken.” More than half of the youngsters worry about the climate. Nora Dari: “We’re constantly reminded of the seriousness of the situation: you talk about it with friends, you see it on television, you’ll get one measure after another. I do worry, yes. Our ancestors said ‘fuck the climate’ and transferred the problem to us. But the only thing we can do, is try to make it less bad for our children.” 17 percent took part in at least one climate strike. Did you? Nora Dari: “I didn’t skip school, but I’ve participated in one during a weekend. I had to. Only complaining and moaning, it would have left me a great sense of guilt.” Céleste Cockmartin: “I’ve got tremendous respect for Anuna De Wever and Greta Thunberg. What they’ve accomplished! A speech in front of the UN: I can only dream about something like that. I don’t understand the hate they get. Maybe they did wave their little finger quite a lot, but people who still don’t get how important it is, are simply either ignorant or chose to look the other way.” Bouba Kalala: “We don't like to be confronted with facts. If I’m at a café with a friend of mine and he orders water, then I’ll get cranky too. Because his behavior will send out the message that I’m doing something that’s not right for me. The same with eating meat or driving your car.” Do you feel guilty about taking your car? 37 percent prefers a bike or public transport. Bouba Kalala: “See, I try to contribute: I don’t leave the lights on, I use less water, ... But if you look at the numbers, then you’ll see that 70 percent of emissions are caused by big companies. Every human on the planet might try to live as green as they want, but as long as these companies aren’t restricted, it won’t improve. The biggest lie they ever told humanity, is that we can change a damn thing about that.” Céleste Cockmartin: “I don’t fully agree. Every company should invest a part of its profit into environmental research, true. But the responsibility still lies with each and everyone of us.” Bouba Kalala: “I understand Greta’s anger. She gets applause from the heads of state, but does it help? She knows she can’t save the world by reducing her shower time. It has to change at the top.” It does give you a free pass to do nothing and take the car instead of the bike. Bouba Kalala: “It doesn’t. By giving the good example now, I might change a mindset. The CEOs of polluting companies have children too. When they get the chance to lead, they might flip the script: ‘Grandpa, you were wrong, we’re going completely green now.’ That effect will continue to grow, but the fact that I can save the world by not tossing my cigaret on the ground? That’s bullshit.” Where do you see yourself living later on? 40 percent still prefers the countryside. Céleste Cockmartin: “The fact that young people chose the country side, has a lot to do with corona. The measures felt even more restrictive in the cities. I would like to live in a city - I love the hustle and bustle of London or New York - but a lot of friends of mine like a house with a garden.” Nora Dari: “I’m from Genk, I couldn’t settle in Antwerp or Brussels. Although, during the drive to this location, I noticed how beautiful Brussels truly is.” Bouba Kalala: “I grew up between the meadows. When I was older, I lived in the city. Now I alternate. I felt really bad for a little while and that’s when I noticed that the city was too toxic for me. My therapist advised me to go on a walk with my dog through the forest, every day. That really changed things. It’s healthier than popping some antidepressants. Humans isn’t made to live between concrete walls. We’ll have to find a happy medium.” One last number: at least 6 out of 10 youngsters are happy with their lives. Do you feel happy? Bouba Kalala: “Yes. It's kind of strange to say, but not so long ago, I was convinced that I would never feel happiness again. To find it, I had to go after it myself. How I look to the future? Not necessarily rose-coloured, because there really is a lot of shit to be addressed. But even if that doesn't work out, I know I'm going to make the most of it. Like people have made the best of corona in recent months. I try to hold on to that energy.

#wtfock #wtfam #part 3 of 3 #nora dari

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lupinlongbottom · 4 years

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Burning Bridges pt. 1

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: Professor (L/N). That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? After starting her dream job, (Y/N) had only the highest of hopes. Until she heard of the other professor starting that year as well. A boy from her year, a Gryffindor. She thought she had left him in the past. Guess not.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

A/N: I love my plant boi. I’ve always had this fic nestled in my brain, always in the back of my mind. I guess I just wanted to read something like this so bad I had to write it myself ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Part 4 ... Part 5 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

How long had it been since she traversed through these halls? The sound of her flats slapped against the marble flooring like they had years before. The air had grown more solemn, the walls recovering from the tragedy of the previous battle once taken to these grounds. Years had flown, rebuilding the castle to its rightful glory. Scars of the battle still remained, (Y/N) noted, her fingers gently tracing the edge of broken railing as she descended into the dungeon.

The Potions classroom smelled the same as always. Slightly bitter, a dusty aroma wafted from the shelves. It smelled like home. Her new home.

“Alright then,” (Y/N) grunted, heaving a suitcase onto the wooden table before her. “Better work on cleaning up this place.” (Y/N) raised her wand, muttering a simple Scourgify charm, polishing the spare cauldrons to their former glory. A few other waves of her wand sent the jars flying into groups, settling onto the other tables.

“I see you wasted no time getting settled,” a voice bellowed from the hallway. (Y/N) turned to see an older woman in a slanted hat walking into the classroom. “The last wizard in your position didn’t nearly take as much care into his job as his predecessor.”

“Headmistress,” (Y/N) responded. “Pleasure to see you.”

McGonagall smiled, tipping her head slightly. “Likewise Ms. (L/N),” She chuckled. “Apologies, old habits die hard. Professor (L/N).”

“I could hardly blame you,” (Y/N) chortled. “Seeing as you and the other staff have been calling my name almost in distain for seven years before, I can imagine it's a tough habit to crack.”

(Y/N) wasn’t much of a troubled student during her time at Hogwarts, but her nasty habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time caught up with her. Daydreaming, scribbling in journals and practically shutting herself in her room with only a cauldron didn’t help either.

“We’ve done it before, we can do it again,” McGonagall repeated, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “I do have to admire your haste in filling the open position after our correspondence.”

“An offer of a stable job, educating the subject I’m most passionate about?” said (Y/N), fighting back a grin. “Seemed like a good time as any to break out my quill faster than any school assignment, no?”

“You did make it quite clear in your letter that your previous job was…” McGonagall practically floated across the stone flooring, admiring a bottle of small newt eyes, the jar fumbling between her fingers. “Lackluster.”

“In comparison to a dream job,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Lackluster is the perfect word.”

“I hope Hogwarts can continue to impress you,” the Headmistress nodded. “Once you’ve sorted out your classroom, the staff is having a small gathering, a welcoming of our two newest staff members.”

“Two?” (Y/N)’s eyes flicked up from her jars, meeting her old professor’s.

“Oh yes,” the witch nodded. “After Pomona Sprout retired, we needed to fill the position of Herbology professor.”

“Shame,” (Y/N) sighed. “I always enjoyed Professor Sprout. Screaming mandrakes and all.”

“Pomona didn’t leave without the highest recommendation on the pupil to take over her post I assure you,” McGonagall moved to exit the dungeon classroom. “A small world it seems, he’s also a previous student, from your year too.”

“My year?” (Y/N) questioned, mind fluttering between every boy that was in her year. It seemed every name coming to mind was dismissed almost immediately due to their current status or career. Who could’ve gained the recommendation of Sprout? Unless…

“Mr. Longbottom and yourself are welcome to join at dusk in the Great Hall.” The Headmistress said nothing else as she ascended the stairs, leaving (Y/N) stunned.

“Neville?”

The memories of the Gryffindor boy flooded (Y/N)’s mind. How long had it been since she had spoken to him? She didn’t want to think about it. After the Battle of Hogwarts, the pair of friends parted ways a bit… unsavory. Were they still friends? Of course not. (Y/N) shook her head and ignored the impending hypotheticals, dreading her own welcome party.

The Great Hall had hardly looked empty in (Y/N)’s time at Hogwarts, seeing only the small staff of the castle gathered near the back of the hall was a strange sight to see. The house tables were pushed to the sides, leaving a sizable gap running through the middle. It almost reminded (Y/N) of the Yule Ball, minus the dazzling decor.

“Ah, young (Y/N), finally a professor!” Hagrid exclaimed, slamming his stein flat against the long table. “Knew you ‘ad it in ya!”

“Thanks Hagrid,” said (Y/N), accepting his uplifting hug. Left her nearly two feet off the ground. “Missed your hugs.”

“Always willin’ to give ya one,” Hagrid let (Y/N) go, setting her down less than gently. “Come out of the dungeon anytime ya need it.”

“I’ll take you up on it,” (Y/N) smoothed her skirt, collecting her bearings. The staff was sparse, but familiar. Seeing her old teachers, now her peers, all gathered in one spot was comforting.

“Longbottom!” Hagrid boomed, practically running to the front of the hall to embrace him too.

(Y/N) turned to the buffet, avoiding the Herbologist as much as she could. The food looked like a good enough distraction, desserts towering into pyramids next to a warm roast, food (Y/N) missed sorely. Thankfully, the other members at the party agreed that dinner was a slightly more important matter. Jovial chat echoed throughout the hall before the telltale ringing of a glass sang through.

“Faculty, I hope your summers were uneventful and relaxing as always,” McGonagall started, standing up at the center of the table. “We’re here to welcome the newest members of our Hogwarts staff, both wonderful alumni,” She turned to (Y/N), motioning her to stand up. “(Y/N) (L/N), proud member of (Y/H) house, now skilled Potions Master, a talent we’ve only seen seldom before.” Minerva waved her hand, metaphorically passing the baton over to (Y/N).

“Thank you Professor,” (Y/N) scanned the room, all eyes were on her. How she loathed public speaking. Teaching was one thing, she knew how to teach. Speaking from the top of her head? Not so easy. “I was humbled by Minerva’s offer of employment, nearly spat out my butterbeer!” The hall laughed. “Hogwarts has always been a home to me, I’m proud to be able to continue to call it as such.” (Y/N) bowed slightly, taking her seat as the group clapped lightly.

“Mr. Longbottom,” McGonagall motioned towards the tall man at the end of the table. It was the first time (Y/N) allowed herself to look at him. His face had thinned out, a scruffy beard following the sharp point of his now defined chin. “If you please.”

“Of course,” Neville stuttered, standing up. “Not one for speeches, but I’ll try,” He chuckled, gaining a flutter of laughter from a few surrounding him. “I hope to do my best. Can’t live up to Sprout’s legacy, but I can aim for something of the sort. A Longbottom method to it, I reckon.”

“Well said, Neville,” Flitwick raised his glass, gesturing it towards the young professor. “A toast, to our newest colleagues.”

The other professors followed suit, raising their glasses, a mumbling of kind words fluttered around the table. (Y/N) smiled lightly at the gesture, taking a sip of the rather fruity wine in her own chalice. The rest of the table seemed to do the same, her eyes scanning the faces of her old teachers. Her gaze landed on Neville, chatting cordially with Hagrid. His grin stretched across his face, almost tugged to his ears, happy with the reunion with an old friend. Neville glanced up, green eyes meeting (Y/N)’s.

Immediately she looked away, glancing down at her plate of roast. How long had she been staring? Surely it couldn’t have been that long, right? With another quick bite, (Y/N) stood up. “This has been lovely,” She smoothed her skirt again, nervous habit. “But I think I still have a few more bottles to sort, we’re expecting students to arrive in two days time. After all, first impressions are everything.” She laughed, scooting back her seat.

“If you have the need to retire, feel free,” McGonagall said, taking a long swig of her wine. “I take it you found your lodgings for the year as well?” (Y/N) stood in silence. The Headmistress smiled. “Just as I thought, head stuck in those cauldrons as usual. Mr. Longbottom can show you to the wing.”

Neville stood up, nodding politely. Their eyes met again, this time, (Y/N) didn’t look away.

To say their walk was awkward would be the understatement of the year—no—century. (Y/N) barely had the nerve to breathe too loudly, anxiety nearly taken over her entire body. Neville sighed, his hands deep in his pockets.

“So,” He started, staring straight ahead. “You’ve been well?”

She hadn’t seen this man in nearly five years and he opens with ‘you’ve been well?’. (Y/N) fought the urge to roll her eyes. “You could say that,” She quipped, focusing on her steps and not on the slightly unsavory tone she had.

“I’ve been okay,” Neville shrugged, trying to continue the conversation. “Was working as an Auror for a bit, started with Harry. He was a bit more skilled for the job,” The Gryffindor laughed, looking to his right.

“I can imagine,” said (Y/N), ignoring Neville’s gaze. It felt hot against her side, begging her to add more to the conversation.

“You’re a Potions Master now, right?” asked Neville. “McGonagall mentioned it at dinner. Must’ve been hard work, but if anyone could’ve done it, it would be you. Always at the top of our Potions classes,” He laughed. “Annoyed the hell outta Snape.”

This pulled a small smirk to her lips. “It wasn’t terribly difficult,” (Y/N) admitted. “Far too much memorization for my liking if I’m being honest. I also don’t think Snape was ever really annoyed, I reckon that was just his face.”

They laughed quietly together. For a split second, the wall that had been between them had fallen. Momentarily bringing them back to their adolescence.

“I guess I never really got a good look at it,” said Neville, slowing his pace. “Always tried to avoid it if I could,” He stopped walking. “This is the wing,” Neville spoke hesitantly, almost afraid to bring them back to reality. “A small chunk of the staff stays here, most live in or near Hogsmeade with their families.”

“I see,” (Y/N) hummed, eyes scanning the oak door. “Do you mind…?”

“Oh, right,” Neville shook his head. “You’d probably like to see your room, yeah?” He pushed open the door, leading (Y/N) down the corridor. “The big door’s enchanted, no student can pass through. Well, that’s what Flitwick said anyway.”

Down the long corridor, next to each of the various doors were nameplates, covered in the names of various professors. They arrived at a beautiful stained glass mosaic of a phoenix before taking a left, (Y/N) noticing a rather shiny nameplate as they passed by. Neville Longbottom it read. They stopped walking.

“This is you,” He said, pointing his thumb at the door adjacent to his. “I promise to be a decent neighbor, don’t really get up to any partying. Nothing crazy.”

(Y/N) smiled politely. “I’ll try to do the same,” Her fingers traced against her own nameplate, almost not believing it was real. “Can’t promise my volume when a potion goes awry, though. Always had an affinity to the occasional swear.”

“I hardly think any potion you’d make would go wrong,” Neville mumbled, flicking his eyes down. “But, I doubt it’ll be a problem,” They stood silently, staring at the door. “We should… catch up. More, I mean. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) hummed, only partially interested. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Neville questioned, raising a dark eyebrow upward. “It’s been nearly five years, (Y/N).”

“Exactly,” She turned to Neville, eyes pointed. “Five years. Not a single owl, no letters, nothing. Where was the effort to catch up then?”

“We didn’t exactly leave off on the best of terms, you know that,” Neville sighed, running a hand up to his hairline, fingers lacing through his hair, seemingly recalling the past. “I sent owls—”

“Never got them,” (Y/N) answered quickly, feeling her wall build back up. “Tended to move around a bit—a lot—my job required it.”

“I tried, (Y/N). I wanted to get back in touch,” His voice sounded small, fragile. “You can’t blame me for not trying. Owls can go both ways.”

(Y/N) paused, mouth hanging open for just a moment. “Maybe it was for the best,” She turned back to the door, hand on the knob. “Maybe… leaving it the way we did was for the best,” She repeated.

“You were my friend,” Neville pleaded. “I cared about you.”

“Not enough,” (Y/N) mumbled as she opened the door. “Thank you for showing me to my room,” She entered and began to shut the door. (Y/N) stood in the dark for a moment before turning back to her old friend. “We’re colleagues now. I won’t let this interfere with that if you won’t. Goodnight.”

“Interfere? (Y/N)…”

She closed the door.

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart23 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

want to be added to a tag list? hmu in the replies or ask box with what characters you’d like to be tagged with!

#Neville Longbottom #harry potter #neville longbottom x reader #harry potter x reader #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom x you #plant boy #my son but also my husband?? it's unclear #hopefully this goes the way I want it to lol #to say this fic will be entirely self indulgent is an understatement my dudes #this fic is for me but y'all can read it

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