#uh here’s the thing you can’t particularly row or at least not we’ll with your feet not in your shoes

[6ebe]

Just did a whole rowing outing with my footplate attached upside down I want to dieeeeeee

#uh here’s the thing you can’t particularly row or at least not we’ll with your feet not in your shoes #since the pressure comes through pressing the feet #so anyway not only were my feet not in my shoes but my feet were also too low down and the shoes were too loose bc they’d become partially #detached so. literally horrible #you especially can’t row at all when you’re doing front - end drills which we did for literally 2km+… girl I was dying #I nearly ejector crabbed out of the boat worst day of my life 😞 #but then the coach was like I could see you made a real step forward in your back end separation thoigh well done #and I’m like ?? girl I was fighting for my life but ok

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

our little jellybean

word count: 2.5k

warnings: labor/childbirth, nothing graphic at all, just lots of mentions of pain and contractions and being in the hospital. excessive use of the word “smiled” because I was smiling a lot when I was writing this because dad!harry is literally so cute :)

It had all started very quickly. One minute you were reaching to grab some sheets for the crib, and the next you were gasping and staring at the floor.

"Harry!" You called out for your husband, a little bit in shock. 

"Are you ok?" Harry yelled, his footsteps pounding up the stairs. 

He rushed over to your side, eyes wide as he asked again.

"What? What is it?" 

"I think..." You looked up, face just as shocked as his was. "I think my water just broke." 

Harry's face went through about 10 emotions faster than you could even register them. He grinned, which was quickly replaced by a look of panic, which turned into a smile, which then bounced right back to panicked. 

"It's- you- are you... really?" He could barely even get a full word out. 

"I think so? Yeah, yeah, definitely." You couldn't help but laugh at the shocked look on his face before he bolted back down the stairs. You looked over the banister, confused. "Where are you going?" 

You saw his grab his phone, typing furiously before he held it up to his ear.

  "Yes, hi, my wife's water just broke!" Harry practically yelled into the phone.

  He did not just call 911, you thought. 

"Ok, ok, I'll tell her, thank you," Harry rushed out, looking back up at you from the main floor. 

"The doctor said to wait until the contractions are 6 minutes apart," He said, panic still evident in his voice. 

"I know, Harry, I could have told you that," You said. "Why did you feel the need to call the doctor? And why are you down there when I'm up here?" 

"Right, right, don't abandon your wife when she's about to have your baby!" 

He took the stairs two at a time, pulling you into his arms. 

"I can't believe you're about to have my baby," He said, beaming. Then his face went back to terrified. 

"But wait, it's too early! It wasn't due for another two weeks! We don't even have a car seat, I was going to get one tomorrow!" 

"It will be fine, two weeks isn't even that early. Babies are born way earlier than this little jellybean all the time and they're just fine. And it's my first baby, so I'll probably be in labor for a while. My contractions haven't even started yet, so we have plenty of time to buy a car seat," You said, trying to calm him. 

"Right, we can just go get one right now," Harry said. "How are you so calm right now? Why am I the only one freaking out??" 

You laughed. "Do you forget that I'm a nurse? In a labor and delivery unit? Harry, this is literally my job." 

"Right, yes, I did forget," he smiled sheepishly. "But I'm allowed to forget things, because we're about to meet our little jellybean!" 

His smile was contagious, and you couldn't help grin with him as he pressed his hands to your stomach. 

"Did you feel that?" He gasped as the baby kicked. 

"I did, Harry, it came from inside me," You said, laughing. 

"What are we going to name her?" He wondered, ignoring your words. "Personally, I like jellybean, but I think she might get bullied." 

You laughed, pulling away to look at him. "You're right, we do need to pick something. We don't have to decide right now, but we should probably narrow it down a little." 

"I think Brooke is my favorite from the list," He said, forehead furrowing thoughtfully. "But I also like Amelia." 

"I'm really glad you agreed on Grey's Anatomy names, because that might have been a deal breaker," You said, donning a very serious face. 

He laughed, shaking his head. "What about you? You do get a say, being the baby's mother and all." 

"I'm kind of on the fence between Cristina and Amelia. I like both but I don't want people shortening her name, I don't like Crissy or Amy or something weird like that." 

"Hmm, you're very picky," He observed. 

You pushed his shoulder, smiling. 

"I'm allowed to be picky, it's a child I carried for nine whole months. So it's between Amelia, Brooke, and Cristina. I kind of think we won't know until we see her, you know? Like, we'll look at her, and say "she looks like a Brooke" or whatever." 

Harry smiled, pecking a quick kiss to your cheek. "Sounds like a plan. Now, we really should go get that car seat." 

You had been browsing for nearly an hour, Harry managing to find something wrong with every single option. You found it incredibly amusing that he was the one being picky about all of this. He had been the same with the crib, the dresser, the onesies, the bottles, even the pacifiers. You let him have his way, though. Every time you not-so-politely suggested he just "pick one, for the love of all that is holy" he would turn his puppy eyes on you, saying how he just "wanted everything to be perfect for our little jellybean." How could you say no to that? 

"This one?" You pointed to one of the last car seats in the row. "It looks good, and it's a good brand." 

"Hmm... no. I don't like the color palette."  

"Harry," You said, trying very hard to keep the exasperation out of your voice. "Darling. Sweetheart. My wonderful husband. Please, I am begging you, just pick one. I know you want everything to be perfect, but all of these are good-" You stopped in the middle of your sentence. 

Harry's eyes snapped up from the box he had been inspecting, looking at you with great concern. 

"What happened?" 

"Uh, just, that was a contraction, I think," You said, a rush of nerves washing over you. "Yeah, a contraction. It's... it's starting, but, like, for real," You managed to get the words out. 

"Ok, time to go to the hospital! Let's go meet our baby!!" Harry could hardly contain his excitement. 

"No, Harry, it's not. I'm sorry, but we're waiting until they're 6 minutes apart, just like the doctor said."

"But-" 

"Harry, if we go now, they're just going to send us home until I'm further along. Let's just go home and finish up everything we can, and please just pick a car seat." 

Harry hesitated for less than a second before grabbing one of the boxes he hadn't completely hated. You smirked as you exited the store.

"Maybe I should go into labor more often. I've never seen you make a decision so fast." 

He squinted suspiciously at you.

"Did you actually feel something, or did you just pretend to get me out of there faster?" 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. 

"I did, seriously. This time, at least. I make no promises about next time."

  You had three more contractions in the time it took to drive home and put the finishing touches on the nursery. Harry timed each one precisely, down to the millisecond. 

"Harry, it's really more of a minute thing, you don't have to be that exact," You said, laughing at the concentration on his face. 

"No, I do, because the second you're at six minutes apart, we are going straight to the hospital," He said, still intensely focused on the stopwatch on his phone. "18 minutes, 32 seconds, and 51 milliseconds." 

"Alright then. Why don't we watch a Christmas movie? It'll help the time pass faster," You promised. 

The pain came more and more frequently as the movie played. You tried to mask your face, but Harry could tell each time a new contraction started. He insisted you squeeze his hand every time, watching your face intently.

  By the end of the movie, you had to admit it was getting pretty bad. 

"Harry- I think -ow- I think it's time to go," You said through a particularly nasty contraction.

"Really? For real?" He said, jumping up from the couch. 

"Yes, for real. Let me get my bag-" 

"No, no, I'll get it, you just wait here and I'll be right back!" He said, bounding up the stairs. 

When he came back down, he was wearing the biggest grin you'd seen since you told him you were expecting. 

"I'm so excited to meet our little jellybean!!!" He smiled, hugging you tightly. 

"Me too, Harry, but we have to get to the hospital first," You reminded him. 

"Let's go!!!" He was practically bouncing on his feet as he led you out to the car.

He loaded your bags into the back, next to the car seat he had so carefully installed. 

By the time you were pulling up to the hospital, the pain was almost unbearable. Harry parked in a spot he definitely wasn't supposed to park in, jumping out and running to get a wheelchair. A nurse greeted you at the door, wheeling you inside while Harry sped away to find a parking space. 

"He's an eager one, isn't he?" The nurse laughed. 

"I think he's more excited than I am," you joked. "He's been like a kid all day, asking every five minutes if it's time to meet our little jellybean yet." 

"Well, that's good! Not all fathers are so loving and supportive of their wives." 

"Yeah, I got pretty lucky with him," You smiled. 

"You certainly did," She said, wheeling you into a room just as another contraction hit. 

You clenched your fists, really wishing you had Harry's hand to hold. 

Just in time, he ran into your room carrying your bags. He dropped them by the bed, helping you up from the chair.

"Did- Did you run all the way up here?" You asked, squeezing his hand. 

"Sprinted, actually," He panted. "Did I miss anything?" 

"Oh, no, I've been having a lovely time," you said sarcastically. Then you felt bad for snapping at him. "I'm sorry, that was mean. Thank you for being so supportive."

"You're allowed to be mean to me today, you get a free pass," He laughed.

  "You're going to regret saying that when my next con-" Your words were cut off with a gasp when the pain stabbed through you again. 

"It's ok, it's ok, squeeze my hand, that's it, just like that," He soothed.

  "I don't want to -ow- I don't want to hurt you!" 

"You can hold on as tight as you need, I promise you won't hurt me, love," He said, brushing your hair out of your face. 

"Another thing you're going to regret saying!" you yelled, grasping him as tight as you could. 

As soon as the pain eased, you let go of his hand. "Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, are you ok?"  

"Stop worrying about me, I'm not the one having a baby right now! You're not hurting me, and even if you were, I wouldn't say anything because the only thing that matters right now is you and our little bean in there." He leaned towards you, pressing his lips to your belly. "By the way, how are you doing in there, little bean?"  He paused before smiling up at you. “She says she’s doing just fine, and she’s very excited to meet us.”

Your labor continued like this for a few more hours, with you constantly apologizing and him constantly telling you it was fine. 

Your pain only got worse as the hours went on. Eventually, you stopped caring what you said to Harry, instead opting to blurt out whatever came to your mind. You figured it was ok. He had given you a free pass, after all. 

"I hate you so much, you did this to me!" You cried, still not letting go of his hand.

  "I know, I know, I'm sorry, it's my fault," He soothed, handing you a cup of ice chips. 

"I'm sorry again, I don't really hate you, I just-" you cried out again. "Nevermind, I actually really, really do hate you!" 

"I know, but you're doing so well, love, and soon we'll get to see our baby girl. Just keep thinking of her, our precious little jellybean," He said, wiping a tear from your face. 

A midwife came in, explaining that she just needs to examine you quickly. Then she looked up at you, smiling. "It looks like it's time to push. Are you ready to meet your baby?" 

You looked into Harry's eyes, breaking into a smile. 

"We finally get to see our bean."

  It was official. You had never seen anything more precious. You looked down at the tiny pink bundle in your arms, and you smiled so hard it hurt. 

Harry was sitting on the bed next to you, arm around your shoulder. 

"So... do you still hate me?"  

You rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. 

"Just a little bit. My vagina really hurts." 

He laughed, reaching over to stroke the baby's cheek.  "Yeah, that's my bad." He said, smiling. "She's just... so amazing," He beamed. "I'm already in love." 

"Me too," You giggled. 

"Look! She grabbed my finger!" He whispered excitedly. 

"Looks like she loves you just as much," You said, smiling. 

"I know,” He said admiringly. “Now that she's actually here, we should really pick a name," He said, not taking his eyes off her face.

"Yes, right, we have to-" You gasped when she opened her tiny eyes and looked up at you. "Harry! She has your eyes!" 

"Oh, she does, and she's just so adorable," He cooed, beaming. "Wait, no, I keep getting distracted by how cute she is. The name. I don't think she looks like a Cristina. Sorry, but... I think she looks like a Brooke."

"Well, of course you want to go with Brooke, that's the name you already picked."

  "Hey hey, I said I liked Brooke AND Amelia. Since I vetoed Cristina, I... will make the ultimate sacrifice and let you pick from those two." He said, very dramatically. 

"That's very kind of you," You said, smiling. "But... actually..." 

"What is it, love?" 

"Well- I don't know if you... I thought, maybe..." 

"Y/N, what is it? It's fine if you want to pick something different, but just know I'll always hold it over your head how ironic this is, how you got mad at me for being indecisive about car seats and yet here we are-" 

"What if we call her Stevie?" You rushed out, blushing when he stopped abruptly.

For the millionth time today, his smile seemed to light up the entire room. 

"You want to call her Stevie? As in- really?" 

"I mean- only if you're ok with it- if you don't like it we can go back to Brooke-" 

He cut you off, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. 

"I would love to call her Stevie,” He said, grinning as he pulled away.

"Ok, good," You said, sighing in relief. "Because that would have been really awkward if you said no." 

He laughed, hugging you closer. 

"I have to call Stevie- not the baby, but the other- you know who I mean- she's going to be so excited," He said, smiling. "But maybe not right now- I just need a few more minutes to look at her." 

You beamed, resting your head on his shoulder.

#Harry Styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #baby #babies #pregnancy #dad!harry #stevie fics #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Here's the sad pining sasuke i wrote last night... it's not finished and who knows when/if i'll finish it. university AU, not edited and there's some naru//hina and sasuke//OC bc i couldn't think of a canon character that fit. The texting part is also weird bc i wrote it all very fast lol. i'm sharing bc why not *shrugs*

xxx

It hurts, to look at them.

Sasuke can’t help himself. Naruto is his best friend, after all, and he’s not yet so desperate that he’ll avoid him. It’s worse, somehow, that he can’t even dislike her.

She’s good for him, he thinks, when he’s feeling particularly self-deprecating. Her hair is dark and her skin pale as porcelain, and that’s where the similarities end between him and Hinata.

Sweet, and so patient with Naruto. Soft-spoken, but not a pushover. Impeccably dressed, always, no make-up needed to outshine any girl beside her. A picture perfect couple, that’s what they are. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to watch it unfold from the front row.

How her shyness turned to surety, how her eyes would catch on Naruto and look away before, but now – now she looks at him like he belongs to her, soft smile on her plump lips.

Sasuke can’t even hate her, and he wishes he could.

It’s not her fault that Sasuke is the way he is. She doesn’t know, isn’t doing it on purpose. And yet, there’s a stab to Sasuke’s chest every time she takes his hand, every time Naruto tucks her silky hair behind her perfect ear.

Naruto will kiss her cheek and Sasuke will be looking, always looking. His face devoid of emotion, his voice carefully neutral. He can’t be mean to Naruto’s girlfriend, though he wishes he could. Maybe if Naruto got mad at him and pushed him away, Sasuke would be free to move on.

It’s more likely that Sasuke would apologize and do better, and he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment.

Sometimes he imagines that Hinata will find out, that she’ll start treating him with suspicion, watch his every move with her wide eyes. Feel threatened by him. But Sasuke is no threat. He’s tired and hurting, but he’s not a homewrecker. It would be a lot easier if Naruto didn’t keep nudging him in Sakura’s direction.

It’s not Sakura’s fault, either. She’s dreaming of something she can’t have, and the similarities make him sick to his stomach.

Sometimes he thinks he’ll date her, live the lie to the fullest. Give her what she wants, since he’s doomed anyway. He doubts he’d last long, though. If he had even the slightest bit of interest in women – but when he looks at her, there’s just no attraction. He’s not sure how no one’s noticed yet. It’s not like he’s that good of an actor. He thinks the only reason no one’s figured it out is because he’s so deep in the closet, and they’re all so heterosexual. Why would they suspect he’s gay? It suits them better if he isn’t.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that late already,” Sakura says beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The bar is lively around them, but the music is at a bearable noise level. She’s looking at her phone, frowning. On the other side of the small table, Naruto pouts.

“It’s not late!” he objects, the beer in his glass sloshing around as he waves his hands around. “We just got here!”

“We’ve been here for three hours, I think,” Hinata says, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.

Sasuke wonders how she manages, the way he moves around so much. Perhaps her body is as soft as her voice, easily following him.

“I told you I have to get up early tomorrow.” Sakura sighs, irritated. She fishes her bag up from the floor, putting her phone inside it. “I really have to get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Sasuke offers. Not because he particularly wants to, but he’s not in the mood to subject himself to third-wheeling Naruto and Hinata. “I should get going, anyway.”

“What?” Naruto looks disappointed, more disappointed than when Sakura announced her departure. “I thought you were free tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke swallows down the last of his drink.

“Doesn’t mean I want to stay up all night,” he counters with, easing out of the booth. “I still have to study.”

“You study too much,” Naruto mutters, giving Hinata a smile like an afterthought when she squeezes his arm.

“Maybe if you studied at all you wouldn’t need to panic before every exam,” Sakura nags at him, coming around the table to wait next to Sasuke. “Some of us care about our grades.”

“Nerds.” At least Naruto looks a little happier, and Sasuke hates to think that it’s because he thinks anything’s going to happen between him and Sakura. “Don’t get lost, you two!”

They say their goodbyes, and Sasuke tries to pretend he doesn’t notice how Sakura’s cheeks fill with color when they step outside the bar. She’s put a jacket on, but Sasuke’s fine in his sweater. It’s not cold enough that her blush can be blamed on the weather.

“Thanks for walking me,” she says, hefting her bag higher up her shoulder. She’d joined them straight from the library, researching her latest paper. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her, hands tucked into his sleeves.

He doesn’t want to run the risk of her attempting to reach for his hand. As much as he dislikes her attention, it’s safer if she thinks he’s just playing hard to get. He won’t have to explain, then, why he hasn’t outright told her to give up. He should, he knows. But Naruto would just nudge him towards some other girl, would bother him about it until Sasuke started going on actual dates. It’s touching, how worried he is over Sasuke potentially being lonely.

Too bad Naruto himself is the cause of it.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow, then?” Sakura asks, stepping aside as they meet a group of half-drunk businessmen. “I’m working until five…”

It would be so easy to invite her out. To suggest a movie, or trying out that new café near campus. To watch her eyes light up with hope, watch her mouth stretch into an excited smile.

“I really do need to study,” he says. “And I’m almost out of clean clothes.”

None of it is a lie, technically. He’s just not sure he’ll actually do either of those things tomorrow.

“Oh.”

She tries to hide her disappointment, and Sasuke is an expert by now at pretending he doesn’t notice. They walk the rest of the way in silence, waving a quick goodbye at the ticket gates as Sakura’s train is due to arrive in just two minutes. Sasuke buys a drink from a vending machine and takes small sips as he waits for his own, mindlessly scrolling through social media. He almost ignores the text Naruto sends.

> Wanna hang out tomorrow?

He contemplates it. On the one hand, yes, of course he wants to. On the other, having an entire day to himself has its appeal.

> I’ll be busy

> Ooh, with sakura?

The train arrives, and Sasuke snags a seat next to a couple too caught up with each other to pay attention to him.

> No

> Got studying and laundry to do

The reply is instant.

> That’s too boring!!! I’m coming over for lunch

> Whatever

He pockets his phone, and stares down at the bottle in his hands for the rest of the trip. It doesn’t help against the warmth rising in his chest. At least he doesn’t do this to Sakura – doesn’t invite himself into her space, ignorant of her feelings. It doesn’t make him feel better.

xxx

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s got Naruto, and then there’s his small group of friends from high school. Naruto is the only one who still lives nearby. Rather, Sasuke had ended up staying in Konoha like him. It’s a big enough city that most of his classmates are strangers, although slightly less so in their second year. He stayed with his parents for his first year, but when one of his cousins moved abroad for work he took the opportunity to stay at her apartment instead. It’s closer to his university, and if he, potentially, wanted to bring a guy home then no one would know.

He doesn’t think his parents would mind, but there wouldn’t be any privacy. He relishes in it, and Naruto does, too.

“I should just move in with you,” Naruto groans, spread out on his couch. “You wouldn’t believe how annoying my mom was this morning.”

“I think I can believe it,” Sasuke tells him, cleaning up after their lunch. “And just to be clear, I’ve never said you’d be welcome to live here.”

“Stingy,” Naruto grumbles. “How long is your cousin gone, anyway?”

Shrugging, Sasuke dries off the counter just for something to do with his hands.

“A year at least. We’ll see. So it’s not like I’ll be living here forever.”

“But still!”

“Where would you even sleep?”

Naruto happily pats the couch. When Sasuke scowls at him, he simply grins.

“Come on,” Naruto says. “I want to watch a movie.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I need to study.”

Still, he gives in too easily. Naruto lifts his legs to give him room, dumping them all over Sasuke’s lap once he sits down. It’s things like this that makes Sasuke’s heart refuse to give up. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, cheekbone pressed to his closed fist. He doesn’t say anything when Naruto picks a drama at random, letting him comment on the plot as much as he wants. Watching movies with Naruto is certainly never quiet, and he winces as Naruto kicks his legs as he shouts his anger at the main character.

When the movie ends, Naruto doesn’t start a new one. Instead he chews on his bottom lip, playing with the remote. Sasuke considers getting up to use the toilet, maybe suggesting going to the corner store for snacks, but then Naruto clears his throat suspiciously.

“What?” he asks, irritated when Naruto takes his time.

“So, how are things going with Sakura?”

He resists the urge to pinch his nose. He still lets out a heavy breath, not quite a sigh but close enough that Naruto frowns.

“I mean,” Naruto continues, “you could just ask her out. She’s definitely going to say yes.”

Sasuke shifts, uncomfortable. Naruto’s legs are still on top of his. His socks have little frogs on them.

“I’ve told you I’m not really into the idea of a relationship right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Naruto rolls his eyes, pushing himself up and finally removing his legs, crossing them at the ankles instead. “Sounds like excuses to me.”

“Just drop it, Naruto.”

“But if you get together things will be so much easier,” Naruto insists, poking at his arm. “We can go on double dates, and stuff.”

Sending him a glare, Sasuke pulls a leg up to his chest. It won’t prevent Naruto if he decides to get comfy on his lap again, but it might make him think twice at least. Naruto’s only wearing shorts, and all that naked skin isn’t good for his heart. It’s definitely too cold for it, but Naruto’s never been one to care about the weather.

“We already go places together.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same!”

Sasuke pinches his lips, looking away. If he’s not careful, those large blue eyes will convince him to cave in, and then he’ll find himself with a girlfriend. He does a lot for Naruto, but there are limits.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” he mutters, knowing it will only lead to more questioning.

Sure enough, Naruto makes a noise of protest.

“But you haven’t rejected her either!”

“She hasn’t asked me out either.”

“It’s obvious she likes you.”

“That’s her problem.”

Naruto kicks at his thigh, using his heel. He looks properly annoyed now, as if Sasuke is a petulant child, refusing to do what’s best for him.

“If you got over yourself for a minute, you’d realize what a catch she is!”

He doesn’t reply. Let Naruto think he’s just stubborn, or an asshole, or whatever. Let him think Sasuke’s just stringing her along, keeping her attention while refusing to commit. It’s better than the alternative.

“Leave it, Naruto,” he warns, getting up and moving to the kitchen. “We’re not talking about this.”

At least Naruto doesn’t follow him, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. The apartment is small, no wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He searches through his cabinets, locating a forgotten bag of wasabi peas. He throws them at Naruto’s head.

“Eat these and shut up,” he says.

To his relief, Naruto does as told.

xxx

He picks up the call from Karin half-distracted, mind still stuck on a question for tomorrow’s seminar. As usual, she doesn’t wait for him to say hi, making her wince with the volume of her voice.

“Do you have any idea how tiring it is to listen to Naruto whine about you?” she starts with, the background noise suggesting she’s outdoors. “Can’t you just tell him you’re gay and put me out of my misery.”

“No thanks.” He drops his pen on his desk, rubbing at his eyes. He regrets not going to the university library, at least then he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. “Was that all? I’m kind of busy.”

“You know, this is exactly why I moved away,” she continues, ignoring him. “I thought I could get away from all the high school-level drama. Just get yourself a boyfriend, and go on those stupid double dates my cousin is so desperately yearning for. How hard can it be?!”

He can feel a headache incoming, and he rubs his fingertips between his brows. Naruto had sulked for hours the day before, until Sasuke got sick of it and threw him out. It was definitely backhanded of him to call Karin and complain.

“If you really wanted to be left out of it, why are you calling me? That’s the opposite of not getting involved.”

“Because it’s really painful and I’m morally obligated as the only person with functional brain cells to tell you to move on. Juugo’s too nice to say it and Suigetsu would give you terrible advice and sit back and watch. I’m being nicer to you than you deserve.”

“By telling me to move on,” Sasuke deadpans, wondering why his parents couldn’t have settled down somewhere else.

“Well, someone has to do it! Clearly I’m the gay cousin in the family, so you’re screwed. Might as well get over it and get laid.”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?”

She huffs at him, traffic and broken conversations filtering through the phone. There’s the jingle of a shop’s door, and the noise cuts off.

“Your pining is just getting sad,” she eventually replies, distractedly. “Trust me, I know my cousin. He’s not worth it.”

Something unpleasant churns in Sasuke’s stomach. He wants to argue with her that he is worth it, but he doesn’t want to land himself in an hour-long lecture if he can help it. He rolls his neck, making a face. She’s got a point, but he doesn’t enjoy hearing it. His life would be a lot simpler if he could find someone who made him forget about Naruto. He’s just not sure it’s fair to expect someone to instantly replace a lifetime of friendship.

“I don’t think I should have to come out just because Naruto irritates you,” is what he says instead, leaning back in his chair. “What if my parents find out and disown me? You want to be responsible for that?”

“Sasuke,” she sighs, “your brother is literally gay and your parents love his boyfriend.”

“So?”

“Stop. Making. Excuses.”

He bites his cheek, holding back a denial. He’s not worried about his parents, he’s worried about Naruto’s reaction. That things will change between them. That he’ll think Sasuke has feelings for him, which would be correct but would also ruin absolutely everything.

“I’ll… consider it,” he concedes, after a long silence, during which Karin has finished buying whatever it was she needed.

“Really? Because I’m going to hold you to that.”

He sighs.

“Next time I’m not picking up when you call me.”

xxx

A few weeks pass, and not much changes. Naruto still takes up too much space in his head and life, Sakura continues to drop hints but refuses to make the first move, and Hinata is still as lovely as ever. She doesn’t seem to have much of a personality other than being Naruto’s girlfriend, but to be fair Sasuke hasn’t precisely paid attention or tried to get to know her. Naruto’s birthday is drawing closer, and he can’t bring himself to do anything to break the status quo before then.

He’s been considering it, though. It would be a relief to stop pretending. He can’t imagine himself finding a boyfriend, though, because where would he even meet someone? It’s too awkward to use a dating app, and he’s not precisely social. He doesn’t have any experience, either, if you don’t count those childish games they played sometimes when they were younger. And that one time Naruto kissed him by accident when they were twelve.

Because of this, he’s really not expecting it when one day in class, just as the lecture ends, his eyes fall on the messenger bag that the guy next to him has just finished packing. There’s a rainbow pin on it, and Sasuke blurts out his question before he can stop to think about it.

“Are you gay?”

He only lifts his eyes from the pin when the surprised silence stretches out a bit too long. Their eyes meet, and the other boy is staring at him like he’s not sure how to react.

“Uh,” he says eventually, fingers clenching around the bag’s strap. “I mean, yes? But if you’re thinking about the pin it’s just a regular rainbow…”

He trails off, and Sasuke feels his cheeks heat up a bit. He can’t believe he just asked, when he himself has gone to such lengths to make sure no one made such assumptions about him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.”

Maybe he should know the guy’s name, but he doesn’t. He’s pretty short, hair dyed a light brown and glasses perched on his nose. Cute, but Sasuke’s not sure he’s his type. He’s not sure he has a type, other than Naruto.

“Are you gay?” the guy asks him, eyebrows rising above the frame of his glasses.

Sasuke licks his lips. He could say no, but to what end?

“I am,” he forces out, breathing in a deep breath.

“Oh.” There’s red color blooming on the other boy’s face, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment. “I was kind of hoping, but, um… I mean, hoping sounds weird! Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask outright.”

When Sasuke stands up, he realizes he’s almost a head taller than him.

“I’m Sasuke,” he offers, clicking his laptop shut and slowly sliding it into his bag.

“I know. I mean! I’m Hiroshi. Nice to meet you.”

Sasuke nods, and awkwardly turns to leave. Hiroshi stops him with a hand to his arm, though, and Sasuke swallows nervously as the turns back. He’s not interested in Hiroshi, not really, but he’s never been asked out by a boy before and the novelty of the situation is getting to him.

“Do you, um, are you busy right now? We could have lunch?”

He weighs the pros and cons in his mind. As nervous as Hiroshi looks, there’s a determined glint in his eyes that sways Sasuke over.

“Okay,” he says, and just like that he’s doing what Karin told him to do.

He’s trying, at least.

xxx

Over the course of a week, including having coffee together and a visit to the aquarium, Sasuke learns a lot about Hiroshi. Or Hiro, as he likes his friends to call him. They don’t have too much in common, but they’re both gay and studying agricultural economics. Once Hiro gets over his initial shyness, Sasuke finds he’s got a great sense of humor and won’t hesitate to poke fun at him.

It’s a breath of relief, to spend time with someone who doesn’t know him from before. He didn’t realize how much he needed it – just being able to be himself, without constantly keeping himself in check.

He can’t fool himself to think it’s enough to replace Naruto, but maybe he doesn’t need to replace him. Maybe it’s enough that Hiro seems to like him. He doesn’t really think about it, when he invites Hiro over on a Saturday night, after they’d had dinner at a nice udon place.

“Oh, wow,” Hiro says as he steps into Sasuke’s apartment, making an impressed face. “Nice place.”

“It’s my cousin’s, so no need to sound so impressed.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, taking off his shoes and jacket and following Sasuke inside.

“Alright, I’ll try to keep it in,” he teases, sitting on the couch when Sasuke motions him towards it. “But it must be nice, to have your own place like this. The dorms are fine, but I can’t exactly bring guys there.”

Humming his agreement, Sasuke grabs two cans of soda from the fridge, handing one of them to Hiro when he sinks down on the couch next to him.

“Want to watch something?”

Hiro nods, and Sasuke brings the TV to life. He’s not expecting anything to happen – they’ve only known each other a week. He’s still coming to terms with having a friend other than Karin he can talk to like this, and she doesn’t really count since there was never the potential for anything to happen between them. Hiro is… potentially someone Sasuke could date. At least there’s nothing wrong with him, not yet, and Sasuke’s easing himself into the idea of getting to know him better.

He finds a movie at random, some sci-fi that doesn’t look terrible. The movie turns into background noise as they talk, Hiro’s eyes watching his face more than the screen. It’s nice, in a new, exhilarating way, to have a guy’s attention on him like this. He’s not sure what to do with it. When Hiro moves closer, knee touching Sasuke’s thigh, hand resting on the back of the couch and occasionally touching his neck, Sasuke can’t find it in him to move away.

It feels like a secret, shared between the two of them. He thinks of Naruto for a long moment, allows himself the pain lacing through his chest as he imagines light brown hair replaced with blond, dark eyes replaced with blue. Then, he pushes it away, tells himself he can have this. The emotions are only his own.

It’s all happening too fast when Hiro grows bold, leaning in to press their mouths together, but he doesn’t care. It’s no one’s business if he spends the evening on his couch with a boy in his lap, a boy who isn’t his best friend.

The pain is easier to swallow if he tells himself that he’s the only one hurt.

#at this point i'm just writing whatever's in my head #something is better than nothing #i hate tumblr's formatting

[haikyuuhoo]

Contemporaneous - Chapter 2

Pairing: Atsumu x F!Reader

Summary: In which you are so incredibly lucky to exist at the same time as Atsumu Miya. Or, perhaps, it’s the exact opposite…

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Swearing, talk about dyeing hair when in reality I have never dyed hair or had my hair dyed lmao.

A/N: This turned out a bit longer than I anticipated, but I hope y’all like it! As always, feel free to let me know what you think :)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

If you had to guess when everything changed, you’d probably say it was the day you helped the twins dye their hair. It was such a mundane thing, but it was so weirdly different than you were used to. They insisted that since they’d be going to a new school where they didn’t know many people it would be helpful for people to tell them apart. There was nothing they, with their competitive natures, hated more than being mistaken for their twin.

You were sat on the counter in their bathroom, Atsumu sitting between your legs as you applied the blonde hair dye to his head. The three of you had been at this for hours; the time it took to bleach their hair enough to prepare it for the dye had felt like an eternity. Their mom had helped with that part, insisting that if her boys were going to dye their hair she wasn’t going to let them mess it up.

“Stop squirming,” you mumbled to Atsumu, trying to focus on making sure you were getting everything evenly coated.

“’S boring just sitting here,” he complained, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Would you rather do this yourself?”

He stiffened up for a moment before letting his shoulders slump. You couldn’t see his face, but you assumed from the way Osamu snickered that he was pouting. “No. Sorry.”

“Good, now shut up,” you sighed.

Silence settled over the room and you felt your cheeks starting to heat up as you looked down at Atsumu. He seemed like he was dozing off with the way his shoulders rose and fell rhythmically with his breaths.

“Done,” you finally announced. You looked over at your phone and pressed play on the YouTube tutorial you three had found on how to dye hair at home. You were about to be first-year high school students, after all, you didn’t really have any clue what you were doing. “We’ll check it in a bit and see if we need to touch it up, I guess,” you finally added.

Atsumu let out a soft hum of acknowledgement and got up to switch spots with his twin.

As you got Osamu’s color ready you couldn’t help but glance over at Atsumu who was closing his eyes again. The sight made something erupt inside you, and you tried to push it away as you turned your attention to his brother.

“Okay,” you said and cleared your throat, “I think this color should be easier.”

You didn’t know what had come over you, but you continued to steal glances at Atsumu, and the butterflies that had swarmed in your stomach fluttered their wings every time your gaze landed on his content face.

The beginning of your first year of high school was when things really started going downhill. Well, downhill for you at least.

For the twins, everything was going up.

They were on the volleyball team for a powerhouse school, they were improving every day, and they were starting to get even more attention than normal. They were getting attention for their talent, of course, but they were also getting female attention. A lot of it.

A frown had settled on your lips as you stepped out of your classroom and into the hallway. You were supposed to meet the twins for lunch, something you’d done for years, so today shouldn’t have been any different.

But it was.

A crowd had formed in the hallway, and you already knew what it was for by the way the girls squealed their names. Your best friends’ names. You pushed your way through the crowd, finally making your way to your friends and tugging on the back of Osamu’s blazer when you reached him. “’Samu,” you breathed, and the twins turned to look at you. “’Tsumu,” you added, quickly looking away. “Uh, lunch?”

Osamu nodded immediately, and Atsumu had a small bit of decency to give the crowd of girls an apologetic smile as they returned to your classroom with you to eat lunch.

You could practically feel the dozens of pairs of eyes glaring daggers into your back, and a cold sweat rose on the back of your neck.

The routine was the same nearly every day, but you started to grow tired of the way some girls would go out of their way to pull on your hair or your clothes or attempt to trip you as you made your way through the crowd.

So one day, you didn’t.

You stayed at your desk when everyone was excused for lunch, and you silently pulled your bento out. You could hear the excited squeals coming from the hallway and you grimaced. It nearly made you lose your appetite. But you tried to ignore it, even though you were getting more and more discouraged with each passing minute that you ate alone.

“Hey,” Atsumu said, catching up to you as you exited the school at the end of the day to walk home. You were doing that more and more often recently since the twins always had practice after school, and sometimes you considered joining a club yourself so that you would be able to walk home with them again. He was already in his practice clothes, evidence that he’d run from the gym just to catch you before you left.

You looked up and gave him a small smile. “Hey. Don’t you have practice?”

“Why didn’t ya come get us to eat lunch today?” he asked with a frown, ignoring your question.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. You hadn’t thought he cared. Besides, if they wanted to eat lunch with you, they could have just come to your classroom. “I just thought you’d come by if you wanted to eat together,” you explained. “But I get it, it’s kinda hard to ignore all that attention you two are getting, huh?” you laughed, giving him a bright grin in an attempt to hide the way you were feeling inside.

He frowned. “Yer kinda like our way of getting outa there,” he admitted with a sheepish smile, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s hard to say no to them otherwise.”

You scoffed. “I doubt that I’m really your ticket out. They don’t really like me, anyway.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Whadda ya mean?”

“’Tsumu,” you sighed with a roll of your eyes. “You’ve got a group of fan girls and every day I come and take you away from them. I’d go as far as to say they hate me.”

Atsumu let out a soft “Tch,” and crossed his arms. “Well who cares what they think? Yer our best friend. I only care about what you think.”

“Mmm,” you hummed, tugging on the strap of your backpack. You looked away from him, eyes settling on a tree at the front of the school that was swaying in the afternoon breeze. “Well, I don’t particularly enjoy having to push through that crowd every day, so why don’t you just practice telling them no? You’re gonna have to deal with this for three years, you know.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Atsumu,” Suna called, sticking his head out of the doors of the gym. “Coach says to get inside so we can start practice or he’ll have you run laps.”

Atsumu sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’ll see you later.”

You nodded and started to take a few steps away from him. “If you want to eat lunch with me tomorrow, come find me. I don’t think I’ll like eating alone for three years,” you teased, trying not to let on how much it actually bothered you.

He rolled his eyes and gave you a smirk that made your stomach flutter. “As if we’ll have fan girls for three years. It’ll blow over by the end of the season, just watch.”

But it didn’t blow over. In fact, it only got worse.

And Atsumu didn’t come sit with you at lunch every day.

Osamu almost always did—you couldn’t separate him from his food if you tried—but Atsumu skipped most days.

“I think he just likes the attention,” Osamu had said one day through a mouthful of rice.

You shrugged, chopsticks pushing around the food in your bento. “I can’t really blame him,” you sighed, cheek resting on your free hand. “I just wish he’d at least tell us.”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Ya know that isn’t like him. Hasn’t been for three years.”

“I know,” you groaned, leaning back in your chair and letting your head fall back in frustration. “I just miss him, y’know?”

“Gross,” Osamu laughed before shoveling more rice into his mouth. “Why would ya want ta spend more time with him?”

“I hope you aren’t talking about me,” Suna said as he sunk into the seat beside you.

You looked up and gave him a smile, shaking your head. “Never, I actually like you,” you laughed.

You’d become close with Suna over the last three years. It was only natural that you did, since he was in your year and the twins’ best friend on the team. He was a welcome addition to your trio.

The corner of Suna’s mouth quirked up as he got out his lunch. “Then who are you talking about?”

“Who d’ya think?” Osamu quipped with his mouth full, prompting you to reach over and flick his forehead.

“For how much you like food, you’d think you would appreciate it more and not talk with your mouth full,” you scolded, crossing your arms and muttering a quiet, “trashy,” under your breath.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Then don’t act like it!”

“Jeez, and here I was thinking I’d get a break from the Miya twins’ famous bickering. I forget you’re just as bad as them, Y/N,” Suna groaned.

“Oh, shut it, Suna,” you grumbled, shoving a piece of broccoli in your mouth.

He chuckled and looked at you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Someone’s grumpy.”

“’S ‘cause she wants ‘Tsumu to have lunch with us,” Osamu explained.

You huffed. “Is it so wrong of me to want to eat lunch with one of my best friends? This is like, two weeks in a row he’s ditched us in favor of those dumb girls,” you whined.

Suna hummed in understanding. “I think I heard one of them ask him out when I was walking here,” he said, but you didn’t even have the energy to act surprised.

“And he accepted, no?” you asked, though you were already certain you knew the answer.

“Mhm. I think that’s like the third date this week. I don’t know how he keeps up with everything.”

Suna was right. It was his third date that week. But the thing that made it even more frustrating was that you were supposed to study with the twins after school, and that meant he was bailing. Again. It was happening more and more recently.

“He doesn’t,” Osamu laughed, before going on to say exactly what you were thinking. “He never studies anymore. He’ll be lucky if he graduates.”

At first you hadn’t been concerned with him cancelling plans a couple times. Even with all the attention he got, he still hung out with you, still ate lunch with you, so it felt like you were still friends. But now you went more days not hanging out with him than you ever had. It was like he’d turned eighteen and thought that meant he could focus only on volleyball and girls, as if he didn’t have to graduate high school too.

And it fucking sucked. You were too many years too deep into your crush on him, there was no way you were going to say anything now. With the way he was treating you recently it felt like that would be the thing that would push the two of you apart for good.

All you wanted to do was keep whatever semblance of a friendship the two of you had intact, even if that meant suffering on the sidelines.

Unbeknownst to you, Suna and Osamu shared a knowing glance while you went back to pushing your food around.

“It’s whatever. I get it. I mean, why wouldn’t you want to bask in all that glory?” you sighed before sitting up straight and looking back and forth between your two friends. “I really don’t care.”

What a big fat lie.

Later that night, you were over at the Miya twins’ house studying for finals, just as planned. And as expected, only you and Osamu sat at the table.

Atsumu was out with that girl—that wasn’t a surprise at all, even though Osamu had reminded him of the study session after lunch—and he’d bailed on you for the third time that week. He told you to just go ahead with it anyway, that you didn’t have to reschedule for him. It made you so angry, especially when it clicked in your head that the only days he was going on dates were the days that you had plans with him.

Was he doing it on purpose?

You were staring at your textbook, but you hadn’t turned the page in at least ten minutes. You couldn’t focus, not when you knew Atsumu was on a date with a girl that wasn’t you. A girl he would pick over you. You shoved the heels of your hands against your eyes and groaned.

“I’m an idiot,” you muttered.

“Mhm,” Osamu hummed dismissively, scribbling something down in his notebook. That response was normal, especially when you were studying and weren’t understanding something, but today it earned him a glare. It took him a few moments to notice you were looking at him, and he recoiled as he met your gaze across the table. “What?”

“You weren’t supposed to agree, dumbass,” you sneered.

He raised an eyebrow. “I always agree with you when ya say that. You’ve never gotten mad,” he pointed out.

“Yeah but I’m obviously sad today, it’s different,” you whined as you dropped your head onto your textbook.

“You’ll do fine. You’ve never gotten a bad grade on an exam you’ve stressed over before,” he sighed, turning his attention back to his notes.

“It’s not about the exam, ‘Samu,” you grumbled into your textbook, the words muffled by the pages.

That piqued his interest. You were never one to get sad; at least, not like this. You didn’t really voice your sadness, even to him, and he was your best friend so that was definitely saying something. You always had a bubbly personality that people were drawn to, and yeah, maybe you were a little more quiet lately, but he figured it was just because of the upcoming finals and graduation. He set his pen down, stretching his arms up and then interlocking his fingers behind his head. Leaning back in his chair, he looked down at you, your face still hidden in your textbook. “What is it then?”

You were silent.

“…Nothing,” you finally mumbled.

“It’s ‘Tsumu, isn’t it?” he asked, tone even and blunt as always.

Your head snapped up, and you could feel your cheeks beginning to tingle with heat as you looked at him with wide eyes. “H-How did you know?”

He smirked and gave you a small shrug. “Well, you’ve obviously been upset he’s bailing on us. But it’s more than that, yeah?” When you just continued to stare at him in shock he sighed. “You’re my best friend. Ya really think I wouldn’t be able to notice the way ya look at him? You’re not subtle,” he teased, making your face flush hotter.

“S-So you’re saying he knows I like him?” Your head was spinning, and you could feel a knot forming in your stomach. If he knew, and he was going out with other girls, what did that mean? Did he just pity you? Did he not think you were good enough? Did he—

Your thoughts got cut off as Osamu waved his hand, nose scrunched up as he shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. He’s an actual idiot.”

“Oh,” you breathed, shoulders slumping as your gaze fell back to your textbook. Part of you was relieved that he didn’t know about your feelings for him, but another part of you was pained to know that you still had to hide this secret from him and watch in agony as he took countless other girls on dates.

“Ya should probably tell him,” Osamu said, looking at you in a way you could only equate to a disappointed father looking at his child.

“I think I’m good like this, he doesn’t need to know,” you said meekly, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks rising up to your ears.

Osamu scoffed, pushing his textbook away and leaning his forearms on the table. “Yer not good, Y/N. Yer hurting, and I can tell. And it’s been getting even worse lately. Just because ‘Tsumu can’t see the way ya feel about him doesn’t mean ya should just sit around and feel sorry for yerself. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

You blanched, looking up at him like he was crazy. “I could lose my best friend!” you squeaked, making him give you a fake pout.

“Hey!”

“You know what I mean,” you hissed, covering your face with your hands. “He doesn’t need to know,” you repeated.

“Who doesn’t need to know what?”

You froze at the sound of Atsumu’s voice and the front door closing. You waited, knowing he was removing his shoes and dropping his keys in the tray by the door before making his way to the dining room where you were sitting with his brother.

“Are we gossiping?” Atsumu smirked as he sat at the end of the table, putting his hands behind his head in the way Osamu had done just minutes before. However, this time, your heart fluttered. Your gaze fixated on the way his muscles flexed beneath the button up shirt he was wearing, the way his hair fell in front of his eyes, the way—

You were staring, but Osamu interjected before either of you could say anything.

“Where’s your date?”

You sent him a thankful glance, shrinking back in your chair and pulling the hood of your sweatshirt over your head. Atsumu was to your side, so if you positioned the hood just right then he wouldn’t be able to see the distraught look on your face.

Atsumu rolled his eyes. “I dropped her off at her place. Wasn’t into it. She wouldn’t stop talking during the movie and she kept clinging ta my arm everywhere we went, and it was just—” he shook his head, a look of disgust on his face, “—not good.”

You hummed quietly, wanting to acknowledge you were listening without paying much attention to the way Atsumu talked about his date. You hated him for it. The way he would go out with whatever girl flung herself at him, even just once, without even getting to know her first. You hated the way he gave every girl a chance except for you.

Sure, you had never tried to make it obvious to him that you liked him, but surely if he had any kind of interest in you then he would have given you a chance.

Right?

“How’s studying?” Atsumu changed the subject again, and you were relieved he hadn’t circled back to his earlier question.

“Fine,” Osamu mumbled, but you were quickly gathering up your things.

You shoved them in your bag and stood up. “I’m gonna go home.” It was an announcement, but your voice was small. You didn’t even look either of them in the eyes.

Atsumu looked up at you, and you could see a hint of sadness in his honey brown irises. “But I thought ya were staying over,” he protested with a pout.

You quickly looked away from him. You both knew that he could easily get you to do whatever he wanted with a sweet lilt to his voice and a flash of some puppy dog eyes—you weren’t going to let that happen.

You cleared your throat and tugged your bag onto your shoulder. “Yeah, well… I forgot extra clothes,” you lied, and you tried to hide the grimace at the fact that they could probably both easily see through it.

“Ah, that’s no problem. I can give ya some of mine,” Atsumu said with a smile, but you shook your head. Even if you were telling the truth, that would have been so much worse than sleeping in your own clothes.

“I said I’m going home, Atsumu,” you said sharply.

He blinked, recoiling slightly in shock. You never called him that. It was always ‘Tsumu, and sometimes TsumTsum when you wanted something from him, but never Atsumu. It was only Atsumu when you were actually angry with him, which was rare.

What had he done to make you angry?

He stood from the table and looked down at you with a frown. “At least let me walk ya home then.”

“No.” You tried to be forceful, but your voice came out weak. “I think you’ve walked enough girls home for the night. Please just leave me alone.” You pushed past him, shoulder knocking against his bicep as you tried to squeeze around him in the small space.

He grabbed your arm to stop you, but he couldn’t find the words to say when you looked up at him. There was a kind of pain he could sense behind your eyes, and it made him frown deeper. Why weren’t you talking to him? He’d never seen you like this; you’d always confided in him when something was bothering you.

You pulled your arm away when he didn’t say anything, not missing the pitiful look Osamu gave you as you left the house, mumbling a quiet, “I’ll see you later, guys,” your voice trembling.

You dug your headphones out of your bag from where they were buried under the clothes that you had, in fact, brought with you. You put them on and turned your music up, hoping the noise would distract you from the thoughts swirling around in your head. It helped, but it didn’t stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks subconsciously, nor did it do anything to block out the sound of your own sobs when everything hit you at once.

You were never going to be what he wanted.

You were never going to be enough for him.

He went out on countless dates with girls he knew he didn’t even like. Osamu always insisted it was just because he needed the ego boost, but he wouldn’t even spare you a second glance in the way he did them.

To you, all that meant was that you were worse than them.

Worse than the girls Atsumu didn’t even like from the start.

And even worse than the girls he did.

How in the world would you ever compete with that?

“What’s up with her?” Atsumu asked, hands on his hips as he watched the front door close.

“Maybe you’d know if ya started acting like her friend again,” Osamu quipped, gaze settling back on his textbook.

“What’s that supposed ta mean?” Atsumu snapped, glaring at his twin. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Osamu scoffed, not taking his eyes off his notes. “Ya really are an idiot.”

“The hell are ya trying to say?” Atsumu growled, anger bubbling in his veins.

The gray-haired twin looked at his brother, eyebrow raised, unamused. As—almost—always, he was calm in the face of his brother’s anger. “This is the sixth time ya’ve cancelled on her in two weeks. Why wouldn’t she be upset?”

Atsumu sneered, crossing his arms. “Well what kind of friend is she if she can’t be happy for me going on dates? There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing!”

Osamu stood, the chair clattering and falling over behind him. It was scary sometimes, the way his face was so stoic while fire burned behind his eyes. “That’s such a load of shit, ‘Tsumu, and ya know it. What kind of friend are you to cancel on her for girls ya don’t give a fuck about?” he seethed.

“I wouldn’t go out with them if I didn’t give a fuck!”

“Right. So ya just don’t give a fuck about Y/N.”

Atsumu froze. Was that really what you thought? He didn’t think there had been any issue. You’d never voiced any concern to him, so how was he supposed to know you were upset with him?

How was he supposed to know when you were growing quieter and more distant? How was he supposed to know when you were smiling less around him? How was he supposed to know when he was seemingly blind to the way you felt about him, his gaze landing on what felt like every girl other than you?

But he did know.

He knew all too well, and all he wanted to do was run away from it.

I can open a tag list for this if people are interested! Just send me an ask :)

@kixoomi​

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader angst #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #my writing

[riversofmars]

OR Thirteen wants to marry River - her previous self did the marrying but thirteen wants to do it herself thd proper way so travels to ask the ponds permission for their daughters hand in marriage ❤️

Thank you for a brilliant prompt! It got a little out of hand but what else is new lol. River is finally getting the wedding she deserves. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Ship: River/Thirteen

Rating: G

Word count: 4500

The Wedding of River Song

“So where are we going?“ River followed the Doctor around the TARDIS console as she was setting coordinates.

“Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.“ The Doctor grinned and pulled the lever to set them going.

“Well, will you at least tell me how to dress?“ River pouted crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her wife usually gave her some indication as to what sort of outfit would be suitable. Turning up to a safari in an evening gown was a mistake she intended to only make once. Today, for Valentine’s Day, however, the Doctor was being very secretive indeed.

“Don’t worry about that, got that covered as well…“ The Doctor winked and River sighed:

“Sweetie…“

“Just trust me, okay? It’s not quite time for our date yet. We need to make a quick couple of stops.“ The Doctor revealed as the TARDIS landed.

“It’s Valentine’s Day and you’re telling me you’ve got some other engagements before our date?“ River retorted trying her best not to show her annoyance too much.

“Yeah. Sort of.“ The Doctor scratched the back of her head, feeling a little nervous.

“Do you see how that doesn’t exactly thrill me?“ River raised her eyebrows with a sigh. The Doctor had never been particularly good at doing romance. She had gotten a little better since she had turned into a woman. She had, after all, made the effort to save River from the Library and reunite them in linear time but romance still wasn’t her strong suit.

“Well, yes but it’s not like you’ll be waiting in the TARDIS while I arrange things… plus, you’ll have company, don’t worry, you’ll have a good time!“ The Doctor grinned at her with excitement. She was bursting to tell her what she had planned but then, it wouldn’t be a surprise. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, she deserved something special and she was determined to give it to her. She was not about to ruined it when she had gone through so much effort to make today happen.

“Doctor…“ River groaned in annoyance, all she wanted to do was go for a candle light dinner. Was that really too much to ask?

“You trust me right.“ The Doctor stepped up to her wife and took her hands in hers.

“Unfortunately.“ River rolled her eyes.

“And you love me?“ The Doctor continued, her expression hopeful.

“I’m afraid so.“ River gave her a half-smile. She just couldn’t stay angry with her for long.

“Then do this for me, for Valantine’s, trust me that I’ve got something brilliant planned, just need to sort a few things out, okay?“ The Doctor smiled pressing a kiss to the top of her hands.

“You literally have a time machine, you could have sorted all of this out before now.“ River chuckled shaking her head at her. Why was she in love with such a chaotic idiot?

“Not really, it’s complicated, you’ll see. But there is something I need you to do as well, come on.“ The Doctor pulled her along to the door.

“You are making even less sense than usual, Sweetie.“ River huffed as she followed reluctantly. They stepped out of the TARDIS and found themselves in the front room of 13 Paternoster Row in 19th century London.

“Madame Vastra?“ River looked around confused as she spotted the mistress of the house head towards her with a smile. “Jenny?“ Vastra was accompanied by her wife and maid Jenny Flint who gave them a big smile as well. They had clearly been waiting for them.

“You’re a bit late, Doctor, we’ll have to rush to make the appointment.“ Vastra scolded but not unkindly.

“Sorry, it wasn’t easy to convince her.“ The Doctor smiled apologetically.

“Appointment. What…“ River looked from Vastra to the Doctor and back again. What was going on?

“Don’t worry, Professor, we will have a wonderful time, champagne?“ Vastra offered as Jenny went to the drinks cabinet and poured three glasses.

“Well, don’t mind if I do.“ River wasn’t one to refuse a glass of champagne but she was still confused as to what was going on. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?“ She asked as she took the glass offered to her.

“Absolutely not.“ The Doctor grinned. “I’ll see you shortly.“ She kissed her wife’s cheek and before River could argue she skipped back into the TARDIS and threw the door shut.

“I feel like I’m missing something.“ River shook her head a little to herself as she watched the TARDIS disappear.  

“Thus is the nature of surprises, Professor, but you will figure it out soon enough, I’m sure.“ Vastra smiled and took a sip of her champagne as well. “Strax, bring the carriage round, we must get going.“

——

“Is that…“ Amy stuck her head out of the kitchen. Was she imagining the wheezing and groaning noise that seemed to be coming from outside or could it be that finally, the Doctor was returning after faking his death? Rory had already walked up to the window and pushed the curtains outside to look out into the garden.

“I think it is!“ Rory looked around to her and a wide grin spread across Amy’s face.

“What are you waiting for?“ She pulled her shoes on quickly. “Come on!“ They rushed outside to find the TARDIS in their backyard.

“A whole year, Doctor…“ Amy called out when the door opened. “What…“ She lost her train of thought when she laid eyes on the blonde woman that stepped out of the blue box. Who was she? Had they been replaced?

“Ah yes, sorry, new face!“ The Doctor grinned when she realised why she was looking at her all confused. “Come here Amelia.“ Without waiting for a response she pulled Amy into a hug. “And Rory the Roman!“ She grabbed Rory by the jumper and pulled him in as well. The Ponds were too perplexed to protest.

“I… don’t understand.“ Amy looked the Doctor up and down when she pulled away. They had seen River regenerate so they knew it was very much possible, but this was a lot to take in.

“Yeah, sorry, this bit is going to be a bit complicated…“ The Doctor gave an awkward grin.

“River said you were alive, she didn’t mention you had… changed…“ Rory said trying his best to work through his shock.

“I haven’t yet, not for you, well technically… it’s complicated. You’ll see me again, the old me, about a year from now and you can’t tell him you’ve met me. Sorry. It’s just… in my time, where you are now, I can’t get to you, so I had to come to a time where I knew I wouldn’t run into myself and… I’m rambling, aren’t I, sorry, I… I’ve missed you both so much.“ The Doctor pulled them into another hug. She couldn’t put into words how much she had missed the two of them. Losing them in Manhattan had been one of the most painful experiences of her life. She knew she shouldn’t be going back in her timeline like this but she knew the Ponds wouldn’t be seeing her previous self for a while yet, the risk was relatively low. Also, there was no way she could do today without them.

“You really are… the Doctor?“ Amy grinned as the truth sank in.

“Yeah… very distant future but that doesn’t matter right now…“ The Doctor nodded.

“Have you finally, in the very distant future, realised it wasn’t very nice to keep us in the dark and waiting for so long? You better be taking us on an adventure, Doctor!“ Amy exclaimed having got over her shock. She gave her arm a playful slap.

“Yes, I am, sort of…“ The Doctor chuckled.

“Great! I’ll just grab our coats.“ Rory grinned making his way back to the house.

“But only if they’re fancy coats, you’re going to a wedding.“ The Doctor called out, stopping him in his tracks halfway down the garden path.

“Sorry, what?“ Amy didn’t know if she had heard her right and Rory came back.

“A wedding.“ The Doctor repeated. “My wedding, actually. To your daughter. She doesn’t know about it yet but… anyway, Mr Pond, how would you feel about me marrying your daughter? Again. Properly. I mean, that’s what you’re meant to do, right? According to Earth tradition, ask the father of the bride first?“ She grinned at Rory who looked back at her dumbfounded.

“I uh…“

“Okay, I’ll take that as a maybe… Amy?“ The Doctor looked to Amy hopefully who was as perplexed as her husband.

“Hang on… did you just say you want to marry River again?“ She asked, needing to confirm she was getting this right.

“Yes. Wasn’t exactly a dream wedding, was it, on top of that pyramid, in an aborted timeline and all that. River has never complained but… I did ask her a while back if she’d want to do it again, properly and she said yes, so… I mean, I didn’t exactly look my best on the day and look at me now.“ The Doctor grinned tossing her blonde hair in amusement.

“But you’re not wearing that, are you?“ Amy looked her up and down.

“What?“ The Doctor looked down herself.

“You look like you got that charming combo from a charity shop.“ Amy couldn’t help but point out.

“Well, I did.“ The Doctor retorted, she didn’t really see what was wrong with her outfit but she had anticipated this problem. “Well, I do have a suit in the TARDIS.“ She revealed. “You still haven’t said yes yet, either of you.“ She put her hands on her hips expectantly, looking back and for between her in-laws.

“Well, of course you can, you moron, let us get our Sunday best and let’s get going!“ A wide grin spread across Amy’s face. She was going to see her daughter get married!

——

“Where are we going?“ River looked out of the carriage window.

“To get you a dress of course.“ Jenny grinned with excitement.

“Well, I do have plenty of dresses, she needn’t have gone through all this trouble.“ River chuckled. “But I must admit, this is fun.“ It had been a long time since she had seen the Silurian detective and her wife, they were wonderful company.

“You haven’t got a dress like this.“ Vastra smirked and the carriage came to a halt.

“You haven’t seen the size of my wardrobe.“ River grinned but obliged and followed them out of the carriage. She nearly tripped over when her eyes fell on the shop they had stopped in front of.

“Is the penny dropping, Professor?“ Vastra laughed at the look on River’s face as they found themselves in front of a bridal store.

“You can’t be serious. She can’t be serious.“ River shook her head to herself, she couldn’t believe it. Her hearts jumped into her throat and she had to force herself to take a deep breath to calm herself. She hoped she wasn’t jumping to the wrong conclusions but how could she be?

“From what the Doctor said you have waited an awfully long time for this. Some things should be done the proper way.“ Vastra revealed confirming her assumptions. She took the professor’s hand to reassure her.

“Let’s get you a wedding dress.“ Jenny grinned and took her other hand as they walked her up to the door.

“I think I’d better, hadn’t I…“ River breathed, trying her best to keep her emotions in check.

——

“Alright, let’s get the flower arrangements done, come on people, chop chop!“ Nardole clapped his hands together.

“Who put him in charge?“ Heather mumbled and Bill laughed.

“I think it’s cause he used to work here once…“ She replied fastening the last garland of white flowers to the balustrade of the balcony.

“Just can’t get the staff these days.“ Nardole huffed carrying on with his mission to make sure everything was just right.

“Maybe that’s cause we’re not staff but the Doctor’s friends and guests?“ Clara offered ushering the next load of guests in. The guest list the Doctor had provided was quite the challenge to accomplish but what good was having a time ship if not to get your best friend’s friends together from all over time and space.

“You just see to it that you get everyone here on time.“ Nardole jabbed his finger at her making her laugh. Despite the stress of organising it all, there was a buzz of excitement in the air. Clara’s heart lifted for seeing so many familiar faces. She had seen so much of the Doctor’s past when she had been inside their time stream and she knew how important each and everyone of these people where to them.

“I think we’ve got everyone now.“ Me pointed out looking around. “A few more TARDISes wouldn’t have gone amiss though. Did we miss anyone?“ She looked to Clara who checked the guest list.

“No, I think now there is just one trip to Victorian London to do.“ She grinned. “Time to get changed!“

“This place is beautiful.“ Kate Stewart observed stepping onto the balcony accompanied by Osgood. Everyone was having a good look around before the ceremony started and the view from the balcony really was quite something.

“What is that music?“ Martha asked as she leaned onto the balustrade, marvelling at the twin towers in the distance. A mild breeze carried a melody with it leaving them in awe. The sun was just settling in the distance.

“Nobody really understands where the music comes from. It's probably something to do with the precise positions, the distance between both towers. Even the locals aren't sure.“ Everybody looked around to see the Doctor stepping out of her TARDIS. She was wearing a black tuxedo and bow tie, her expression was one of unadulterated joy as she beamed at the sight of all her friends gathered.

“Doctor!“ Bill exclaimed in excitement.

“Wow, that’s not what I expected.“ Martha was dumbfounded. Clara had told them the Doctor had changed faces but that was quite the change indeed.

“Is the tux too much?“ The Doctor asked, feeling insecure for a moment at everyone’s gaping expressions.

“No, it’s just right.“ Amy reassured her as her and Rory urged her to keep going.

“Is everybody here?“ The Doctor asked slowly as she looked around. She felt a little overwhelmed seeing everyone. So many friends that she hadn’t seen in such a long time and yet they had all wanted to come. She couldn’t express how grateful she was to all of them.

“I think we’re just waiting for the bride now.“ Tasha Lem spoke up. “How about everybody has a seat?“ She gestured to the rows of chairs to either side of the aisle.

“I best be on my way then.“ Clara grinned. “You don’t mind if we take your TARDIS, do you? Less bulky than the diner.“

“Sure, yes of course.“ The Doctor nodded with a smile as the TARDIS hummed in agreement. She couldn’t very well deny the Old Girl when River was her child in a way, too. Slowly, the Doctor walked to the front as Clara disappeared with her TARDIS. Her nerves were catching up with her now as she found herself the centre of attention. Tasha gave her an encouraging smile as the Doctor came to a halt in front of her.

“Are you quite alright, Doctor.“ She asked tilting her head a little and the Doctor forced a smile. This was a whole lot more nerve wracking than she had imagined. It had all sounded like such a great idea at the time.

“You’re not nervous are you?“ Jack teased leaning forward in his chair.

“No. I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous. Not the first time I’m getting married, is it. This is perfectly fine, no big deal…“ The Doctor huffed trying to gather herself as she grasped her hands together in front of her to keep them still.

“Would you look at that, the Oncoming Storm, trembling in the evening breeze.“ Jack smirked.

“I’d like to see you do this.“ The Doctor shot him a glare.

“Maybe you will, one day.“ Jack laughed putting his arm around Ianto who was sitting next to him. “Or maybe you won’t, seeing as you didn’t pick me for best man…“ He feigned hurt. “Who is your best man anyway?“ He asked looking around. The Doctor was looking rather lonely standing at the front with just Tasha to officiate.

“Best lady, thank you very much.“ Missy walked along the side of the chairs towards the front checking her hair in a pocket mirror. Kate and Osgood exchanged concerned looks, Bill huffed:

“Who invited you?“

“Why, the Doctor of course.“ Missy smirked as she made her way to the front.

“Who’s that?“ Yaz asked leaning forward in her chair, sitting just behind Bill and Heather.

“That’s the Master, the Doctor’s oldest… I don’t even know what anymore…“ Bill replied. She couldn’t believe she was here and that the Doctor would actually have invited her.

“That’s not the Master…“ Graham looked on in confusion.

“Probably a younger version of the Master that you know.“ Kate explained and Ryan asked:

“What would make her invite her, she’s like her worst enemy.“

“Or oldest friend… It’s… complicated.“ Bill thought back to the time she had spent with the Doctor while he had tried to help Missy change. She couldn’t presume to understand the relationship between the Doctor and the Master. She hadn’t then and she didn’t now. But she trusted the Doctor and if she had invited her, she had done so with good reason.

“You made it.“ The Doctor stated as Missy came to a halt in front of her. She tried her best to ignore the concerned whispers amongst her friends. She had had to invite her. Things were complicated to say the least but she couldn't do this without her oldest friend. Things had gone too far with the Master she had last seen, she couldn’t forgive him, but with Missy… it had been the closest she had felt to the Master in millennia.

“Evidently.“ Missy hummed. “Well, I could hardly refuse my oldest friend.“ She looked her up and down. “You are old. Where am I in your time?“ She tilted her head, she could tell this Doctor was a whole lot older than the one she had last encountered on Skaro.

“That’s not important. I’m glad you came.“ The Doctor smiled, she didn’t want to dwell on what was yet to come for her, she just wanted to be happy for her being here.

“I wouldn’t miss the wedding of my best enemy, now, would I.“ Missy smirked as she looked at all the guest gathered on the balcony. Quite a few of them she remembered and was disappointed to find alive still. “But where is the bride?“

As if on cue, the TARDIS materialised at the far end of the aisle and the Doctor’s hearts nearly skipped their beats. The door opened and the Doctor let go the breath she was holding. It was Clara.

“No peeking, Doctor, I just need your in-laws.“ Clara grinned as she waved for the Ponds to go in while she went looking for her seat along with Vastra, Jenny and Strax.

“Clara, dear, don’t you look ravishing.“ Missy winked at Clara who turned a little pink but squared her jaw as she dropped into her seat next to Me. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the Master being here but it was the Doctor’s decision after all. The Ponds meanwhile disappeared into the TARDIS.

——

“I was gonna be cool and now I’m gonna cry.“ Rory took a deep breath, he had not been prepared for seeing his daughter in a wedding dress. They might not have been a traditional family but no matter what, she would always be his little girl, and this hit home. River was wearing a beautiful long wedding dress and her hair was pinned back with white flowers in it.

“And I thought I was going to be a mess.“ River chuckled and pulled her parents into her arms.

“Are you okay?“ Amy asked softly as they let go. She took River’s face in her hands, searching her eyes for an honest answer.

“I think so.“ River took a deep breath trying to compose herself. She couldn’t put into words how happy she was to see her parents again and how grateful she was to have them here now. It seemed as though the Doctor had put a lot of thought into planning this. The reality of it had yet to sink in. She couldn’t allow herself to think about it too much, she was worried that if she did, she would cry and ruin her make up.

“You’re not nervous are you?“ Amy chuckled.

“Where you in on all this?“ River asked, trying to wrap her head around it all.

“No, the Doctor only just picked us up! We will have to go back to our life to travel with her younger self again after this but… We wouldn’t miss this for anything in the universe.“ Amy kissed the top of her daughter’s head and gave her an encouraging smile.

“I am so glad you’re here.“ River smiled, her voice faltering just enough to betray the depth of her emotions. “So what do you think?“ She tried to play it off and took a twirl in her elegant white gown.

“Absolutely beautiful.“ Amy smiled, every inch the proud mother of the bride.  

——

“Right okay, stay cool…“ The Doctor mumbled to herself taking a deep breath.

“You’ve never been cool.“ Missy teased and the Doctor groaned in annoyance:

“Fuck off, Missy…“

“Swearing now, too, Doctor? Things have changed, I’ll say.“ Missy chuckled, delighting in the Doctor’s obvious tension.

“I’m fully expecting you to have come with some evil ploy to ruin the day… but I’m still glad you came.“ The Doctor looked to Missy hoping she understood why she had asked her here.

“Well, if I hadn’t, who would have brought you these?“ Missy sighed as she pulled out a small box. She opened it to reveal two pale wedding bands.

“That’s…“ The Doctor’s eyes widened in shocked but Missy didn’t allow her to dwell on it and get overcome by emotion.

“Dark star alloy… beats whatever pathetic excuse for wedding rings you’d planned on.“ She waved dismissively. “I mean, I only met the Professor once that time in prison but I have an eye for these things… not sure yours will fit now though, you’re much smaller than I remember.“ She grabbed the Doctor’s hand to look at her fingers.

“I’m not small! Look who’s talking.“ The Doctor huffed, she was still taller than her. “Oi!“ She pulled her hand back.

“Be back in a minute.“ Missy winked and hit the button on her vortex manipulator, disappearing into thin air.

“I swear this place must be giving off the biggest concentration of space time anomalies this side of the known universe…“ Kate shook her head to herself.

“There we are.“ Missy reappeared only seconds later. “Don’t look at me like that, what’s time travel good for if you can’t even get your best friend’s wedding ring resized.“ She smirked as she checked the rings again.

“Thank you, Missy.“ The Doctor gave her a soft smile and reached out to give her hand a squeeze. She didn’t have the words to say how much this meant to her, she could only hope she knew. Missy didn’t respond at first, she didn’t seem to know what to say, perhaps, just for a moment, she was overcome with emotion herself, so she pulled something else from her pocket to move the conversation along.

“Got you this as well, you wanted to do this properly, didn’t you.“ She handed over a scarlet ceremonial scarf to Tasha. High Gallifreyan symbols were embroiled on it in golden cross-stitch.

“That’s from home.“ The Doctor realised it was the sort of scarf used to officiate weddings on Gallifrey. With the planet destroyed she hadn’t thought it possible to find one.

“Your keen observational skills amaze me.“ Missy tried her best with a sarcastic quip but she couldn’t quite deliver it under the circumstances. “Only borrowed though, who knows, maybe I’ll want to get married one day.“ She shrugged and went to check her appearance in her pocket mirror again, ensuring she wasn’t showing any undo emotions. The Doctor, in turn, swallowed her emotions as well, they both knew how much this meant to either of them, it didn’t need saying.

“Old and burrowed.“ The Doctor smiled nodding at the ceremonial scarf. “And something new.“ She pointed to the rings in her hand and then turned her attention to the TARDIS.

“And something blue.“ Missy smiled and gave the Doctor’s hand a squeeze, allowing herself one brief moment of letting her guard down.

——

“Right, I better go and sit down. Let the father of the bride do the walking.“ Amy took a deep breath. “Do not stumble and embarrass your daughter.“ She jabbed her finger at Rory who straightened his tie.

“You just had to say that, didn’t you, now I’ll be watching my feet the whole time.“ He huffed and River chuckled.

“How about you watch out for me instead, Dad, hm?“ She looped her arm around his.

“I think I can manage that.“ Rory smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. The TARDIS wheezed and hummed behind them, drawing their attention to the console. There was a bouquet of exotic flowers sat on top of it.

“She’s really thought of everything, hasn’t she…“ River said softly as Amy fetched the flowers for her and handed them over. “I can’t believe she managed to do all this and keep it from me…“

“I think she’s had a lot more help than she would admit.“ Rory chuckled as Amy left the TARDIS. “Can’t pull off a Valentine’s surprise like this without accomplices.“ He smiled to his daughter who took another deep breath struggling for composure. “Ready?“ He asked.

“Ready.“ River smiled.

——

“Try not to cry, that would be so undignified.“ Missy mumbled to the Doctor but she never even took her words in. The moment River stepped out of the TARDIS, time itself seemed to grind to a halt, at least for the Doctor. The last rays of the slow Darllian sunset caught in River’s curls and the singing of the towers seemed to pick up with the light breeze. Their eyes met down the aisle and both the Doctor and River Song smiled, they didn’t need words, they both understood. An impossibly journey had brought them to this moment, surrounded by friends and family, a moment of pure joy and love that radiated through all of time and space. The Doctor thought of the towers as she listened to their enchanting melody. They’d been there for millions of years, through storms and floods and wars and... time… as she intended for her and her wife to be.

END.

#doctor who #valentines day #fanfiction #river song #Thirteen #thirteenth doctor #river x thirteen #thirteen/river #space wives #yowzah #amy pond #Rory williams #clara oswald #bill potts #missy #thoschei friendship #femslash #fluff #the fam #kate stewart

[deejadabbles]

A Thousand Songs (Atem/Yami x Reader)

Chapter Two: Leave Out All The Rest

One /// Two /// Three /// Four /// [Five Coming Soon]

Summary: You knew that you and your band could make it big. Not only that, but stay together while doing it; the five of you were family, after all. The only problem was that despite all your musical talents...none of you were particularly good at lyrics. After years of struggling to put out your first full album, the solution finally made himself know in chance meeting on an empty stage.

Rock Band AU, Atem x Reader, gender neutral reader.

A.N. In case they weren't gay enough in the last chapter, Yugi and Jonouchi are boyfriends in this series <3 Is it a bit unrealistic to think they could be in a band and remain happy n healthy in their relationship? Probably. Do I care? No.

"This ain't working at all- and I told you it wouldn't!"

Yugi sighed as his beloved boyfriend tossed his phone on the table and leaned back in his metal folding chair.

Immediately, Yugi picked up the phone and handed it back to Jonouchi. "You can't dismiss them on looks alone," he scolded in a light tone.

Jou looked aghast, "He looks like he sacrifices cats on Sundays!" He waved the screen at Yugi, which displayed a bearded man who cast a purposeful scowl at the camera. He had lots of tattoos and piercings on top of the studded leather clothes, but that just made Yugi more annoyed with his boyfriend.

"People can say the exact same thing about me!" He waved a hand, encompassing his leather pants, studded belt, collar-style choker, and the tattoo on his arm.

Honda let out an unsure hum as he scrolled through his own phone, "But you're still a cinnamon roll under all that leather, Yugi, I'm not sure this guy is. Don't think he's a bad dude or anything, but I don't think he's the right fit for us," he turned his phone so everyone else sitting at the table could see, "just look at the titles of the songs he sent."

Okay, Yugi would concede that the examples the applicant had sent were a little...extreme, the title "bled like a pig" stood out in particular, but he still thought the boys were being a bit judgy.

"I think I'm gonna agree," you mumbled, "these are pretty heavy."

"You wrote a song called "we are broken" that sounds pretty heavy," Yugi countered, not unkindly though still trying to play the middleman.

"Okay, heavy isn’t the right word,” you conceded with a frown as you looked over some rather grotesque lyrics, “yup, “ edge lord ” is more fitting. Just look at the contents of the songs."

At the suggestion, Yugi scrolled down the application on his own phone, passed the profile pic and down to the bottom of the "examples of my work" section. ….okay, you guys had a point. Yugi doubted that the guy actually performed blood sacrifices, but his song style was definitely a little too demonic.

"Alright, I'll send him a thanks but no thanks note."

As Yugi brought up his email app to do just that, Anzu let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed her hands over her face. "That was, what, the sixtieth-something application we've gone through?" she groaned, setting her phone down too, “It’s been over a month, and we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

"I still can't believe we got so many responses to our ads," Jonouchi grunted.

You set your head on your hand, expression dropping and making the dark circles under your eyes look more pronounced, "Everyone's pretty eager to join a band, now if only getting fans was as easy as getting people who wanted in on the fame prospect."

"All this work would actually be worth it if we found someone who even remotely appealed to us," Honda commented, "But everyone's just a little too…"

"Hardcore?" Anzu offered, then looked over at you, "Nah, you’re right, edge lord-y seem to fit most of them. I think that's the real thing, our band name probably makes people think we're more broody and grim than we actually are. We have plenty of darker themes in our stuff but everyone else seems to take it just a bit too far than our tastes go."

You ran a hand over your eyes, “Anyone else feel like we’ve wasted five weeks looking these applications over?”

"Hey, I'm sure we'll find someone soon though!" Yugi chimed in, a valiant attempt to elevate the mood. You and Jonouchi were always saying (much to his embarrassment) that he was everyone’s ray of sunshine, so surely he could salvage the night’s mood. “We just have to keep trying, I’m sure the right person is just around the corner!”

Anzu threw him an appreciative smile, “You’re probably right, Yugi, but I think I’m done looking for the night, it’s pretty exhausting.” She leaned back in her chair more, stretching her arms over her head.

“It’s probably a good time to call it quits now anyways,” you offered after glancing at the time, “If I hurry home now I can catch a shower before my shift starts.”

Everyone mumbled and nodded their agreements at that, followed by the five of you meandering around the room to get your stuff together. Honda offered to drive you back to your apartment like usual and everyone waved goodbye to each other in the tiny parking lot of the studio, Jou and Yugi climbing into Jou’s truck, Anzu into her beat-up car, and you and Honda zipping away on his motorbike.

It wasn’t until Yugi and Jonouchi were back at their place and Jou was cooking their dinner that Yugi realized something with great annoyance. After dumping the content of his backpack out on their bed, rifling through his desk drawer, and scouring the floor, Yugi wandered into the living room/kitchen area with a frown.

“Hey, sweetie, have you seen my adapters?”

Jonouchi looked thoughtful as he stirred the contents of the pan, “Uh, you mean the ones you use for your turntables? Haven’t seen them since the last time we rehearsed, that was what, three days ago?”

Yugi mumbled a curse under his breath, double-checking the tables and other spots he might have absentmindedly set them. Nothing. “Darn, I must have left them at the theatre yesterday.”

“Sure they aren’t in the studio?”

“No, I looked to make sure I’d have them when we rehearse tomorrow, but they weren’t there, that’s why I had it on my mind to find them when we got home.” Yugi shrugged and checked the time, thinking. After making up his mind, he grabbed his purple jacket from the armchair, “It’s okay though, if I hurry I should be able to sneak back into the theatre to get it. I think some members of the orchestra practice together tonight, and even if they aren’t the janitor should still be there.”

Yugi bounded across the tile floor as he slipped his jacket on, jumping up to place a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek before turning to the door.

“I won’t be long, be back before dinner’s done!”

“You better,” Jonouchi called as he grabbed some spices from the cabinet, “I ain’t fixing this masterpiece for one!”

Yugi chuckled and closed the door behind him, as if he’d miss a chance to taste his boyfriend’s amazing cooking.

There was barely any need for a jacket as he walked down the sidewalk, but the vanishing sun assured that it would probably get colder by the time he was walking back home. Although their apartment was a bit far from the band’s studio, the location at least allowed Yugi easy access to his other work place: Domino City’s “Pegasus Theatre”. It was a popular spot for the upper crust of Domino, since they not only hosted ballets, but a talented orchestra as well. Yugi and Anzu both worked there, Anzu as a dancer in the ballet, and Yugi in the sound department, providing tech aid for the shows. Well, for the ballets at least, the natural design of the theatre meant that he wasn’t usually needed when the orchestra played.  

Yugi's assumption proved right and he found the door of the employee entrance unlocked. The sound of chatter greeted him as he approached the stage area, signaling that the orchestra was packing it in for the night. He took a brief glance at the stage as he walked up the rows of seats- he had to be quick, as there were only three lingerers, two chatting as they headed for the door and one quietly packing away his violin.

Yugi bounded up the narrow staircase to the sound booth, opening the door and crossing the room to the little employee cubbies. He found what he was looking for quick enough, after pushing aside his spare jacket and snack bag. The beat-up altoids case rattled, but Yugi made sure to double-check that the adapters were actually in there. They were and he sighed in relief, pushing the other contents back into the cubby before turning.

He peered out the booth's window to see if the violinist was still there, and to Yugi's surprise he was not only still in sight, but the man had actually lingered after packing away his instrument. Standing in the very center of the stage, the man was looking out at the empty seats, then trailing his eyes up to the magnificent red curtains.

Yugi smiled to himself, figuring the man was just having a moment of wonder or taking in a daydream during his moment alone, and Yugi couldn't blame him in the slightest. Yugi was slower when taking the steps down, letting the man have his moment before he ruined it by walking by.

Again though, Yugi found himself surprised. His pace slowed, the sound of a melodic voice carrying through the theatre like a wave that had Yugi stopping dead in his tracks.

I dreamed I was missing

You were so scared

But no one would listen

Cause no one else cared

After my dreaming

I woke with this fear

What am I leaving

When I'm done here?

The voice was deep, the rumble of a serene storm, almost haunting in a way.

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

Yugi’s feet were moving before he even noticed and he soon stood on the red carpets leading to the stage.

When my time comes

Forget the wrong that I've done

Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed

And don't resent me

And when you're feeling empty

Keep me in your memory

Leave out all the rest

Leave out all the rest

The violinist stood there, lost in his own world- or rather the words of his song. His eyes were closed, listening to a chorus of instruments only he could hear as his hands moved in short but meaningful gestures.

Don't be afraid

I've taken my beating

I've shared what I've made

I'm strong on the surface

Not all the way through

I've never been perfect

But neither have you

So, if you're asking me, I want you to know

The chorus of the song came again and Yugi finally snapped out of his reverie long enough to pull out his phone. With quick thumbs he searched the beautiful lyrics he had never heard before, wondering why he didn’t know the song.

No results came up, the song was unknown.

That only got Yugi’s attention more, and he gazed back up at the man, whose voice was filling with more and more emotion with every lyric. His fist clenched at the front of his shirt, over where his heart was, eyes screwed shut as he continued to pour his heart out to the empty theatre.

Forgetting

All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well

Pretending

Someone else can come and save me from myself

A pause, an intake of breath, and Yugi found himself hanging on to every second the man gave.

I can't be who you are...

...I can’t be who you are

The singer drew out the last lyric in a prolonged, sorrowful note; breathy as he bowed his head, the song- his raw expression, finished.

Instantly Yugi found himself clapping, bounding down the red aisle between the seats to the stage. He only felt slightly guilty when the other man jumped in fright.

“That was amazing! Your voice is amazing- that song too!”

The man (who Yugi only now noticed has a similar hairstyle to his own) stared back at him with wide eyes, body stiff.  “Uh- oh I- thank you. I...didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

The man’s speaking voice was deep too, and anyone could guess that he’d have a powerful set of pipes. Yugi was still too excited to pay the man’s nervousness much mind as he practically hopped to the foot of the stage.

“I didn’t mean to startle you- but I couldn’t help it, that was awesome! Did you write that song yourself? I googled some of the lyrics and nothing came up.”

The man took a while to respond and Yugi wondered if his dark complexion was hiding a blush. Eventually, though, the violinist/singer cleared his throat.

“Y-yes, I wrote it. I’ve never sung it in front of anyone though.”

“Do you write a lot of songs?” Yugi pressed and again it took his new friend a moment to respond.

“...Sometimes. I suppose it’s a bit of a hobby. Listen I-”

Finally, Yugi actually realized just how rude he was being with his aggressive ramblings, “Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I’m bombarding you with questions like some weirdo.” He gave a nervous laugh and to his relief, the man’s posture seemed to relax a little- though he still seemed a bit embarrassed. “My name’s Yugi, by the way, I’m one of the sound techs.”

The man gave a nod of his head, “Atem, I’m a violinist in the orchestra.”

“And a totally awesome singer, you’ve got some real talent,” Yugi reiterated, but pressed on before the man could get too bashful again, “The reason I asked you so many questions is because I think it’s fate that we met like this! See I’m in a band, we’re trying to put out our first full-length album but- honestly, we’re aren’t very fast at pumping out new songs. We’re great with coming up with the music, but the lyrics always get us stuck. We’ve actually been looking to hire a ghostwriter for our songs, but none of the people we’ve found seem right- but that song was amazing, just the kind of stuff we like!” Ignoring the unreadable expression on Atem’s face, Yugi dug out his cardholder and passed one of them up to Atem. “I don’t wanna blindside you more than I already have tonight- sorry about that again, but, I really think you’d be a perfect fit for us. Think about it, and if it seems interesting to you, come talk to me.”

Atem looked the card over for a second, before peering back at Yugi, “I’ve never really put my songs out there, it’s just a private hobby, I don’t want you and your bandmates to get your hopes up.”

Yugi waved off his concern, “Don’t worry about that. Like I said, just think about it, okay?” He didn’t move, nor look away from Atem until the man finally nodded in agreement. “Awesome! Take your time and come talk to me once you’ve thought about it some.” His outgoing steam was starting to run out, his bold and somewhat rude actions finally starting to catch up to him. In a sudden burst of embarrassment, Yugi brought his hand up to scratch at the back of his head. “Anyway, I’ll let you go now, I’m sure you want to get home or get on with your night. It was nice meeting you, Atem!”

And with a wave, Yugi was heading for the door, leaving a rather bewildered Atem in his wake.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #yugioh x reader #yugioh #Atem #yami yugi #band AU #Yugioh Band AU #series: a thousand songs

[vivilove-jonsa]

Young at Heart at Oldstones

Since we have some lovely Jonsa-themed WIP Wednesday headers for Modern and Canon fic both, I’m going to share a couple of different things that have been sitting in my big Maybe file collecting dust.  (You can find the Modern AU Headers here)

I don’t see much fic of Jon having a relationship with his grandmother so that was partly what sparked the idea for this one.  Someday, I’ll get enough of it done to start posting on ao3 but here’s a good little bit of it.  

****

“I don’t know about this, Mom.  We’ve not spent much time together since I was a kid.  What do I even say to her?” Jon asked as he had the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, searching for a clean shirt.

“Just talk. She’ll be happy you came to see her.”

“Yeah but it’s going to be awkward after about five minutes.”

“You can handle a little awkward, can’t you? You’re not a kid anymore.”

She was right. He wasn’t. He was twenty-three and a graduate student at Riverlands University. He could give an hour or two of free time to his grandmother and not whine about it being a sacrifice. “I’m going…once I find a clean shirt.”

Lyanna laughed through the phone, making him smile to hear it. “I know it’s thirty minutes away but it’ll mean so much to her, Jon. I call her here and there but you know it’s…well, it’s awkward with us.”

He knew that. How could it not be awkward? Considering the circumstances of his conception and birth and the strained relations that had arisen between more than just his mother and father, he felt his mother was quite thoughtful for even bothering to call his paternal grandmother.

Speaking of which…

“You know, she has three kids who could visit her.”

“Yeah, she does and none of them visit. Your Aunt Dany is young…”

“Barely younger than me!”

“But she’s always been her father’s daughter at heart and she still blames your grandmother for the divorce.”

“Oh, yeah because Aerys is such a gem,” he said sarcastically.

“Families are complicated, Jon.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Anyway, Viserys can’t visit.” No, his sociopath of an uncle wouldn’t be visiting his mother.  Hard to do when you’re behind bars.  “And your father…”

“Is a self-absorbed asshole who found a retirement community for his mother four hours away from where he lives.” He heard his mother’s sigh and felt guilty for dredging up hurtful things. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. You’re not wrong. She’s so excited you’re coming, Jon. I hope you can enjoy the visit, knowing that at least.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be okay. Love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

** 

Oldstones Retirement Community was not a nursing home although he’d thought of it as one. He’d pictured some old depressing building resembling a hospital with blank eggshell white walls, dingy tiled floors and musty-smelling, hospital-style rooms.

Therefore, Jon was pleasantly surprised to see it was indeed a community, a neighborhood for the elderly with rows and rows of neat individual bungalows with their own little postage stamp yards spread out in an arch around a larger one level ‘community center.’

However, in order to get a pass to enter the gated section where those bungalows were, you had to check in at the center first.

Parking out front, he walked inside the center to get his bearings, the whoosh of the automatic doors giving him a blast of air conditioning on the exceptionally warm autumn day.

He caught sight of a young woman in navy blue scrubs holding the arm of an elderly man as they walked along. Thinking she might be an employee of the center, he approached.

“Hi. I was wondering if…”

His words and his train of thought were effectively stopped in their tracks when she turned towards him with forget-me-not blue eyes and waves of auburn hair.

“Oh, hello,” she replied, a musical lilt to her voice as she looked at him expectantly.

Damn, she was beautiful. She was around his age, maybe a couple of years younger. Could she already be a nurse? Or just an assistant here? 

There was a pattern to her scrubs, cartoon characters he recognized from childhood including Wiley Wolfe. It was cute. She was stunning.

The old guy beside her cleared his throat irritably and Jon realized he was just standing there staring at her and her scrubs.  It’s not like he didn’t know how to talk to women but he felt his mouth going dry while he was drowning in those eyes of hers.

Her expectant smile began to morph into one of concern as the silence stretched on. Say something! Use your words, you idiot!

So unfortunately, Jon blurted out the first words that came to mind. “I’m here to see Gamma.” 

Those were not the words I had in mind.

The beauty’s lips twitched and Jon felt heat flooding his face. Of course, he’d fall back to what he’d called Rhaella when he’d been two (not that he’d ever stopped calling her that when it was just him and her.)

“I mean, I was looking for my grandmother.”

“Oh, well…do you know which bungalow she’s in or…”

“Reception’s over there, kid,” the old man interrupted curtly. “My granddaughter doesn’t have your gamma hiding under her top either.”

“Grandpa!”

Jon’s red face was getting redder but now.  Hers was, too.  “I wasn’t looking!” Well, his eyes had lingered on her top for a minute there. “I was just…I like the wolf bit,” he said, nodding towards her chest. “Wiley was always my favorite.”

The wolf bit?!  ‘Wiley was always my favorite?’  Gods, you are such a dumbass, he thought, rolling his eyes at himself.

The old guy with his shaggy grey beard shot through with hints of red continued to glare at him.  He had a cane and Jon wondered if he was about to use it on him.  At least, she was smiling.

“I’m sorry for assuming. I just saw the scrubs and thought…”

“No, it’s okay. I’m a nursing student, thus the scrubs.  I just came by to see my grandfather today after my classes were done.”

“Checking up on me for your mother, you mean.”

“You know I want to see you anyway, Grandpa.”

She was still smiling but there was an edge of hurt feelings in her voice, too. Jon didn’t like the idea of anyone hurting her feelings although he didn’t even know her name. Yet.

The old man took the hint though and grasped her hand. “I know, darling. Sorry. They’ll help you out at reception, kid.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Who’re you seeing anyway?”

“Rhaella Targaryen.”

“Rhaella?” he said, his bushy eyebrows raised. “Well, that’s swell. I’m her neighbor, Hoster Tully.”

He held out his hand so Jon shook it.  “Jon Snow.” He looked hopefully towards Hoster’s granddaughter, unable to hide his grin.

“I’m Sansa Stark,” she said, shaking Jon’s hand as well, her cheeks still flushed a lovely shade of pink.  “And I’m glad you have such good taste in cartoons.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, grinning wider.  “It’s nice to meet you both.”  Especially you.

“Have a nice time with your gamma, Jon,” Hoster chuckled. Never living down that introduction then.  “The sweet shop’s open. You wanna ice cream, darling?”  

Jon smiled, thinking his grandmother would likely ask him the same question.

Sansa cocked an eyebrow at him and put a hand on her hip. “Do I want an ice cream or is it you who wants one, Grandpa?” she asked, clearly amused. 

“I’m sure you’ll be reminding me of the doctor saying to watch my sweets, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“I've been a good boy, I swear.  I also remember when you couldn’t say no to mint chocolate chip,” he added in a slightly pleading tone.

“I still struggle to say no to it,” she laughed. “Maybe they have a no-sugar alternative." 

"Blech.  Help me out here, Jon."

"I, uh..."  He looked between them both, Mr. Tully with pleading puppy dog eyes and Sansa with her hand still on her hip.  "I mean, one little scoop’s not so bad and I'll bet they have a variety of options with, um...different sizes and calories, sugar-free and...you know I've never been here before in my life, right?"

They both started laughing and he was mesmerized by the tinkling sound of Sansa's as her eyes sparkled.  

"Well, maybe we'll check out the varieties available, Grandpa," Sansa relented, giving Jon a wink.  Hot damn!  "It was nice to meet you, Jon. I hope you enjoy your visit.”

“Thanks. It was nice to meet you, too,” he replied as they continued down the hallway.

Sansa’s a pretty name. Where do you go to school? Riverlands?  Please, say Riverlands. They've got a nursing program there...I think.  Do you come here often? Can I buy you both an ice cream? Can I have your number? Do you have a boyfriend?  I really do like the wolf bit.  

Naturally, he’d think of a dozen things to say as she was walking away, not that he could say most of those things when they'd just met.

With a sigh, he headed towards the reception desk as Sansa and her grandfather disappeared from his view.

“Can I help you?” a woman wearing pink scrubs, a friendly smile and a name tag that said ‘Yaya’ on it asked.

“Yes, I’m here to see my gamma.” He groaned inwardly as her smile widened. “I mean, my grandmother. I want to visit Rhaella Targaryen.”

“Oh, Rhaella! What’s your name, honey?”

“Jon Snow.”

“Okay, Jon Snow, let’s take a look.” She opened a ledger to nearly the back page, her finger tracing downwards. “Do you have an ID on you, Jon?”

“Yeah.”

He grimaced as he pulled out his wallet. It was possible they asked this of all visitors but he had to wonder if his grandfather and uncle didn’t make this necessary for his grandmother. There was still an Order of Protection in place for his grandfather and Viserys wouldn’t be welcome lots of places, particularly around a potentially physically vulnerable population. Well, I’ll bet Old Hoster with his cane can take care of himself alright.    

Yaya looked it over and then smiled, passing him a slip of paper with a word written on it.

“Hippie?”

“Yeah, that’s the gate’s passcode.  Just use the alpha-numeric keypad to enter it and you can pull your vehicle through.”

“Okay but hippie?”

“The residents vote on it once a month.  They tend to go with something that gives them a chuckle.”

“What was last month’s?”

“Prunes.”

“No shit?”  Yaya’s eyes widened before she threw her head back and laughed.  Jon hadn’t meant to curse in front of a stranger but when he thought about the meaning there…  “Sorry,” he said, failing to stifle his answering laughter.

After they’d settled down again, Yaya asked, “Does she know you’re coming?”

“Yeah, she does.”

“Great. I know she’ll be happy to see you. She doesn’t get…” Yaya trailed off, a soft melancholy settling in her warm brown eyes.

“Many visitors, I know,” he said, shifting guiltily. He’d moved here six weeks ago. He could’ve come sooner. “I…maybe that’ll change.”

“I hope so, Jon. Have a nice visit.”

#jonsa fanfiction #vivilove-jonsa fic #wip wednesday #jonsa #new fic that may never see the light of day on ao3 #but have some of it here anyway

[juliandev0rak]

Familiar 🐸

Eight: Familiar – what was their first meeting like? What exactly does their familiar do for/with their magic? 

echoes of the past event

@arcana-echoes​

Aster, she / they 

The outskirts of the city, Vesuvia

7 years before the events of The Arcana, Aster and Asra are 17

Words: 2029

Warnings: none

mood for this fic:

“Hey, Asra!” Aster yells.

“Aster? What are you doing up in a tree?” Asra calls up to her.

“What are you doing in the forest?” Aster replies.

“I asked you first!” He calls back, grinning up at her.

“Did you follow me?” Aster smiles back, watching as a leaf flutters down from the tree to land on his head.

“We’re friends now, right? I just wanted to make sure you were safe out here.” Asra says, “The forest isn’t always safe!” 

“I know! That’s why I’m in a tree.” Aster explains matter of factly.

“Uh, what?” He looks around warily, half expecting something to pop out from behind a bush.

“I heard a noise so I decided to climb this tree.” She continues,”But I think it was a false alarm.” 

“Do you want to come down from the tree then?” Asra asks, unable to stop his smile from growing. He’d been headed back to the hut in the forest when he spotted her. He’s never invited Aster to visit before, he has a feeling his friend who lives there wouldn’t take Aster’s outgoing personality as well as he does. 

Ever since he and Aster had met a few years prior they seem to run into each other wherever they go. He’s found her in some interesting situations, and he’s helped her out of plenty of interesting situations gone wrong. Just last month he’d helped her steal a gondola in the middle of the night. He never found out why she wanted the gondola, but the two of them had rowed out to the harbor and watched the stars for a while before he’d convinced them to return the boat before anyone noticed it was missing. 

They always have fun, but more often than not Aster’s escapades leave them running from palace guards and hiding in back alleys. He would say that trouble follows her if she wasn’t the one causing the trouble. Still, he can’t say he’s ever found her in a tree before.

“No, I kind of like it up here. I feel like a bird.” Aster smiles, moving her arms up and down to emulate flapping wings. She climbs up to a higher branch and Asra watches carefully to make sure she doesn’t slip. “AH!” 

“Aster! What is it?” Asra calls, already preparing to catch her or climb up if need be.

“I found a frog!” She shouts gleefully. 

“A frog?” He asks, breathing a sigh of relief.

“AHH!” She screams again.

“What now!” He shakes his head. Faust pops out of his bag to see what’s happening and gives his wrist a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s so cute!” Aster yells, holding a small frog up to show him. 

“How did you find a frog all the way up there?” He asks now that he’s certain she’s safe. Aster doesn’t respond, she’s staring at the frog in her hand with rapt attention. 

“Asra?” She turns to look at him with wide eyes, “Can frogs talk?” 

“Uh, not usually?” Now he’s intrigued. “Come down here, let me see the frog.”

She clambers down the tree one handed, still holding the frog in her other hand and managing not to fall. She lands right next to him and holds her hand out for him to look.

“She talked to me.” Aster says, “She said she likes my dress!” 

“Looks like a normal frog to me.” Asra says, leaning closer to inspect the frog. The frog croaks in response to him and he raises an eyebrow. “Did you understand that?”

“She thinks you have pretty eyes.” Aster smiles in wonder at the frog in her hand. Asra bursts into laughter and reaches a finger out to gently stroke the frog’s back. “She was just sitting on the branch staring at me!” 

“Well she must be a very special frog then.” Asra reasons, “Maybe she felt your magic.” 

“Like Faust?” Aster asks, watching as Faust slithers her way over Asra’s arm to take a look at the frog. 

“Maybe so.” He grins, listening to something Faust is saying. Aster sometimes feels like she can hear Faust, but it’s more of a vague impression of emotions rather than the clear words she’d heard from the frog. “You’d better bring her to your aunt, maybe she can help.” 

“That’s a good idea. Froggie, do you want to come back to my house?” Aster asks, bringing the frog up to eye level.

The frog must have agreed because Aster squeals in delight and starts to walk away, thinking only of her new friend. A few steps away she remembers Asra and turns around to smile at him over her shoulder.

“Asra, you have a leaf in your hair.” She laughs. His hands go to his hair and he pulls the leaf free, staring at it with an unreadable expression. “Come by the shop later?”

“I’ll be there.” He smiles, waving the leaf at her in goodbye. Satisfied, Aster turns back around and heads for home, already trying to come up with a name for the frog. Asra watches as she leaves, practically bouncing in excitement as she walks, her gauzy dress caked in dirt from climbing the tree. 

He wishes he could stop chasing after her, but at this point he thinks he might be in too deep. She says jump, he says how high, she asks him to steal a gondola and he says “what color?” It’s quickly becoming a problem, how much he’s willing to do for her. 

Back at the shop Aster introduces her aunt to the frog, and her aunt agrees that maybe at last she’s found her familiar. Or at least a very friendly frog. Her aunt suggests practicing some spells with the frog nearby to see if it changes her magic in any way. Aster decides to practice her favorite charm, turning things pink. She’s used it frequently, on everything from trees to buildings to a sleeping palace guard’s helmet.

Asra knocks on the shop door an hour later like he usually does and Aster’s aunt lets him in. Sometimes he comes for dinner, or sometimes just for tea, but Aster is the real reason he shows up.  He finds her sitting in the backroom with her back to the door frantically leafing through a book of spells. It takes him a minute to notice that her hair is a shade of bright pink.

“I like your hair.” He jokes, causing her to spin around to face him in surprise. 

“It was an accident.” She laughs, holding up the frog. “I was trying to practice turning a pillow pink but I turned my hair pink instead. It must be the frog, my magic isn’t usually this strong.” 

“I think it suits you.” Asra grins, sitting down next to her. “She must be your familiar then!” 

“Well I’m glad it suits me because neither my aunt nor I can figure out how to turn my hair back to normal.” She frowns, pulling at a pink curl.

“I like it.” Asra says again. She smiles at him and puts the frog down. “Have you given her a name?” 

“I tried to ask her but she says she doesn’t have one, she forgets what it was.” Aster replies, still flipping through her spell book. 

“Well that’s mysterious..” Asra peers over her shoulder at the book, it’s about simple charms but she’s right- none of the pages seem to contain anything about breaking curses. “I wonder how old this frog of yours is, and where she came from.” 

“She said she’s from a swamp somewhere far away from here.” Aster says, closing the book with a sigh. “I give up, I think I’ll just leave my hair pink.” 

“It’ll make it harder to sneak around the city.” Asra teases. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to wear a disguise then.” She laughs, “And besides, your fluffy white hair isn’t very incognito.” 

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m not the one wanted by the palace guards.” Asra grins, poking a finger into her hair.

“Fine if you don’t want to join me anymore, I’ll bring Ophelia with me.” Aster says petulantly, her lips pulling into a pout. 

“Ophelia?” Asra asks.

“I just decided that’s her name,” Aster looks at the frog, “It’s the perfect frog name!” 

“I like it.” Asra says, leaning over towards her, “Hi, Ophelia, I'm Asra.” Ophelia croaks in response and both of them laugh.

“She says ‘nice to meet you purple eyes’.” Aster translates. Ophelia croaks again and Aster’s face pulls into a frown, “She says my hair is too bright. Well you know what Ophelia? Maybe if you weren’t such a powerful, magical frog this wouldn’t have happened!” 

Asra watches on as Aster argues with her frog. It’s not a particularly heated fight as far as he can tell, but it’s definitely entertaining. 

“I take it back, Asra gets to be my partner in crime again.” She pouts and Ophelia croaks back indignantly. 

“I’m not so sure I want to do crimes,” Asra starts.

“Well too bad, I decided I like you so you’re an accomplice.” Aster interrupts with her trademark grin, “But Ophelia can come along, she’s my friend now too.” 

Faust pops her head out of Asra’s bag and slithers her way over to Aster and Ophelia. Aster gives her a little boop on the head as she passes and Faust sticks her tongue out in greeting. 

“Faust wants to meet Ophelia.” Asra explains. “No squeezing, Faust.” Faust hisses politely in response and coils her way around the spot on the carpet where Ophelia sits. The two familiars regard each other in silence for a minute as Aster and Asra grin at each other. 

“I think they like each other.” Aster says, reaching out her arm for Faust to wind her way around. Faust gives her arm a gentle squeeze. 

“I think they’ll be friends.” Asra agrees. “Hey do you think pink hair would look good on me?” 

“No.” Aster says firmly.

“What? Why not!” Asra pouts, grabbing a strand of her hair to play with.

“Pink is my color, we can’t both have pink hair.” She responds with a grin.

“Oh come on! You’re just worried I’ll look better.” He teases, watching as her eyes widen slightly in anger.

“You would not!” She sputters in annoyance. She’s easy to rile up but he knows she isn’t really mad at him.

“Dye my hair pink then and we’ll see.” Asra says, challenging her.

“I am not dyeing your hair pink Asra, Need I remind you this was the result of a curse? My hair is literally cursed now.” Aster wonders what the other side effects of the curse are. If she wakes up with pink skin tomorrow, that might be too much even for her.

“I want cursed hair!” Asra argues.

“Ok well yeah.. it is pretty cool.” She grins, pulling at her hair to look at it better.

“I want pink hair..” Asra mutters under his breath. 

“Shut up or I’ll turn your hair green, and that won’t go with your aesthetic at all.” Aster warns, waggling her finger at him.

“Ugh fine, I’ll just ask Ophelia to do it then.” Asra says, reaching for the frog. 

“Hey! Get your own familiar, she’s my magic frog.” Aster says protectively, snapping up the frog into her hands before Asra can. 

“Faust, should I dye my hair pink?” Asra asks, holding the snake up to eye level. 

“No.” 

This time even Aster can hear the snake’s answer and she and Asra break out in laughter. It’s the kind of laughter that makes their stomachs hurt, gasping for air.

The memory of that night is one that Asra revisits often as the years go by. After he loses Aster the pain is nearly unbearable, but he takes care of Ophelia while he works to bring Aster back, and he knows that if he could understand the frog she would say how much she misses Aster too. 

When he finally manages to bring Aster back he can’t help but wonder if her hair will still be pink in this new body, and he’s overjoyed to find that it is. 

#arcana eotp #apprentice aster #ophelia the frog #hehe lil bit of angst there couldn't help it #i simp for them so hard #the friends to lovers trope was MADE for them #y'all catch those over the garden wall references

[meigh-day]

Obligation (Tendou x Reader) - Part 4

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Title: Obligation

Pairing: Mafia AU Tendou x F!Reader

Characters: Includes characters from both Shiratorizawa and Seijoh/Some OC background characters

Includes: Swearing, Mentions of Guns/Knives and Violence

Status: Complete

Word Count: 1.3k

Previous Next

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You didn't even have to think about it. Of course you wanted him to be the one to show you around. Honestly, while seeing the house again would hopefully ingrain the layout in your mind, in the end this was just an excuse to spend time with him. It wasn't a stretch to say he had been the first person you'd ever really had any interest in. There were plenty of good looking people back home sure but, to you, they were more or less like family or co-workers. The idea of any of them being a romantic interest was both gross to think about and not gonna happen. Sometimes you wondered if you'd even get the chance to meet someone. Its not like you got to leave the house on your own and no one was going to approach you with a cross looking Kimura at your side. The first time you set eyes on Tendou, you felt an immediate rush of intrigue. He was eye-catching to say the least. Cherry red hair spiked up and away from his scalp, while his sleepy eyes were a darker shade of red. Put simply, Tendou was beautiful. From his smile to his laugh, it all drew you in, made you want to try and get his attention. It didn't take long for you to get it either, soon the two of you were often together, and the first time you heard him laugh sealed it for you, you had a big fat crush.

Now the two of you walked with purpose through the home, Tendou pointing out random little details while you listened with enthusiasm. Some of the facts were, odd, but you found them all the more interesting. For instance, the previous underboss had gotten super drunk one Christmas and used an antique vase from the Ming dynasty as his own barf bucket. That vase, by the way, had been a gift to the first head of the family by the Emperor at the time.

.

..

.

"And finally, the garden." Tendou swung the door open, holding it ajar while you passed through the doorway. You stepped out, squinting and shielding your eyes from the sun until your eyes adjusted to the bright outdoor light. The garden was, in one word, gorgeous. There were so many varieties flowers and trees and plants crammed into it. There was so much to see you couldn't tell what was what at first glance, though a pair of wisteria trees on the far side of the garden caught your eye, nearby were rows of hydrangea growing near the gate.

Tendou fixed his eyes on you, watching as your eyes darted around the outdoor space. The garden seemed to have made you very happy and as you carefully moved around looking at the different plants and flowers, he couldn't help but notice how lovely you looked illuminated by the sun and surrounded by the lush greenery. A smile settled onto his lips as he watched you quietly, enjoying the view while you explored.

"It's breathtaking." You murmur, fingers gently gliding across the petals of some Red Spider Lilies.

"Mhm.." He hummed, but he wasn't looking at flowers, he only had eyes for you at the moment. Nothing in this garden was as pretty as you. Satori hadn't expected you to be so enthusiastic to see him again. When you'd admitted how you wanted him to be the one to show you around the house, his heart had fluttered. It was all so unexpected. He wanted to just let go of the pessimistic thoughts that plagued his mind, he wanted to enjoy the time he was spending with you but that was easier said that done. His whole life had been spent with people pretending around him, only saying what they thought he wanted to hear and when they had what they wanted, they left. Was there a chance, even a small one, that your actions and words were legitimate? A vibration in his pocket soon pulled him out of his deliberation and sighed as he laid eyes on the screen.

"Looks like our time is up for now." He mumbled tapping out a reply.

You turn, a small frown pulling at the smile on your lips. You knew he'd only had a little time to spare for you but even still the time had passed by far too fast and you were already trying to think of a way to see him again soon. With a push against your thighs you stand, having crouched before a little grouping of bellflowers to get a better look.

"Oh, ok. Well, Thanks for showing me around."

"S'all good. Maybe next time you come to my office it'll be on purpose." He teases and gives you a lop sided grin before turning to leave. You'd only spent a short time together this morning but you were already looking forward to the next time you saw him. You noted though he didn't seem as animated as he had been before. Had something happened? It had been quite awhile since you had seen each other, any number of things could have occurred, or maybe he just wasn't as comfortable around you as he had been. With that in mind you call out to him.

"Tendou! Uh...if you find yourself with some free time later on, come find me."

"Hmm, we'll see..." And with that he disappeared into the house.

.

..

.

"I can't believe I'm going to marry him..." You uttered the words to yourself with a smile and turn to go explore the rest of the garden.

"So, you're the demons bride?" A sharp feminine interrupts the stillness of the garden, its owner appearing from around a nearby tree. You jolt with surprise at the voice, unaware someone else was out here. You turn to see the woman casually lean against the trunk of the tree, fixing dark appraising eyes on you. She was about your height with angular features and long dark hair. Her expression shifted looking almost sympathetic if not for sneer on her lips.

"You poor thing, must be horrified to be paired with such a monster."

Any sort of kindness you'd had in your expression dropped at her words. "What?" You turn your body towards her, arms crossing along your chest as you give her a chance to redeem herself. You knew the sorts of things people said about Tendou, and you knew they were essentially a version of him, but they weren't who he really was. Tendou had always been kind to you. He'd always been able to bring a smile to your face and it pained you to hear someone say such a cruel thing about him in front of you. When she remained silent, you spoke up instead, trying very hard to sound passive, your choice of words almost giving her the benefit of the doubt. "I think you might have the wrong idea."

"Do I?" Her head tilts to the side, as she narrows her eyes at you curiously. "Don't tell me, you actually like him?" The question is followed by a snort, her expression full of disbelief. There was just no way. She'd had her sights set on him for awhile now and arranged marriage or not, she would have him. It wasn't that she particularly liked the man, but the power and position he held were very attractive.

You grit your teeth, attempting to hold back your words. At the moment you had no idea who this person was and, while you wanted to tear a strip off of her...perhaps literally, you had to be careful for now. So with a shrug you turn away. "Ok then, I won't." And with that you leave, she stares at you as you disappear into the house, her mouth slightly agape in surprise, eyes burning into your back.

#tendou x reader #tendou #tendou satori #tendou mafia #haikyuu #haikyuu mafia

[sylvanfreckles]

Between the Dragon and His Wrath

(yes it's finally here)

Rating: T Major warnings: graphic violence, mention of miscarriages and stillbirths in chapter three (the tags are for the entire fic) Fandom: Supernatural

Summary:

Great is the Daughter of Heaven, whose hand is a net and whose embrace is death.

When Castiel investigates a series of omens, he finds himself at the center of a deadly plot to free an ancient entity from the darkest plane of Hell. As his time runs short and the enemy’s power grows, Sam and Dean must race to save him before he becomes the final sacrifice to unleash chaos on an unwary world.

. . .

Chapter One: The Angel of Thursday

. . .

“I'm serious, Cas, you just gotta ask. I'll ditch this gig and come help you.”

“You're already three hundred miles away,” Castiel replied. His phone sat on the dashboard in front of him, his call with Dean on speakerphone so his hands were free to page through what little evidence he'd managed to collect. He was tracking down some fairly unusual omens—missing persons, strange carvings or graffiti in other languages—and Dean, typically, was trying to interfere.

“I'll speed.”

“The sheriff said he'd be here in ten minutes.”

“Just tell him to wait for me.”

“Dean...”

“Look, Cas, it's just.... All these weird scribbles? Sammy can't crack them either, and if the two of you can't figure it out there must be something bad going down, right?”

“They're dirty limericks that have been badly translated into several ancient languages,” Castiel replied. He picked up two of the photographs from the case file and held them up to study. “I deciphered them late last night.”

“Ooh, how dirty?”

“Dean.” Castiel set the photos on the seat beside him and glared at the phone. He refused to admit it had been his phone call with Claire, of all things, that had gotten him on the right track. He'd expressed frustration that a piece of jumbled 3rd century Greek verse seemed to reference the island of Nantucket, which had been known by a much different name until the 17th century. Claire had given a dirty laugh and, to his growing concern, recited an obscene limerick about a man from Nantucket.

It had fit, with some inconsistencies due to translation errors. He would never admit to Dean that he'd spent most of the night with photos of the other graffiti sites in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through a database of dirty limericks to finish the translations.

C'mon, man,”Dean said, his voice dropping to a more serious pitch. “This case, it just...Sam thinks we need to go into deep cover and we might be out of touch for a couple days. Maybe you should head home? Wait for us?”

“I'll be fine.” Despite his irritation, Castiel couldn't help but smile. Dean hated any of them taking a case alone, no matter how small it seemed. “Sheriff Kent just wanted to show me the latest site himself, it's probably more of the same.” More filthy poetry. Castiel had often admired humanity's achievements in the arts...but he was beginning to wish mankind had never invented the limerick. The Neanderthals would never have done something so crass.

“Be careful. You find something big you just get out of there, all right? We'll handle it together.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked out the window as the crunch of tires on gravel heralded the sheriff's arrival. “I have to go.”

“Promise me, Cas!”

With a huff of exasperation, he picked up his phone and stared down at Dean's name. “Good-bye, Dean.”

His friend's shout of protest was cut off when Castiel ended the call. Of course he would back off if this looked like more than he could handle. Despite what the Winchesters seemed to think, Castiel was well aware of his own limitations. Particularly with Heaven so low on power.

Shuffling the papers back into their folder, he climbed out of his truck to greet the man walking toward him from the sheriff's car. “Agent Anthony?” the man held out his hand in greeting and squinted at the badge Castiel was holding up for him. “I'm Sheriff Kent, I spoke to you on the phone? Thanks for coming all the way out here.”

Castiel grasped the sheriff's outstretched hand and tucked the wallet back into his jacket pocket. “Well, I was in the neighborhood.”

Kent snorted. “I doubt that. Not unless you're here for fishing and hunting permits.” The sheriff was a tall, rugged, sandy-haired man with the deep tan of someone who spent most of his time outdoors. “I told you, there's nothing much out here. You should've let me send you the reports instead of wasting your time,” he continued, turning to lead the way down the trail that lead to a little-used boat ramp.

“You know how it is,” Castiel replied, thinking of Sam's advice on pretending to be a law enforcement agent. “The boss wants me to be thorough.”

The sheriff glanced back at him, eyebrows raised, gaze traveling from Castiel's face down to his shoes. “Uh-huh. It's right over here.”

The area was little more than a single dock, a boat ramp, and a covered picnic pavilion with three picnic tables. The driveway that lead from the main road to the ramp itself had been barricaded due to the investigation, though the sheriff explained that most people parked along the road and took the trail down unless they were hauling a boat.

Yellow caution tape was wrapped around two of the picnic tables in the pavilion, marking out a rough square about six feet across. Castiel shuffled under the tape while Kent held it up, then knelt down next to the markings etched into the concrete slab that made up the floor of the pavilion.

“Just gibberish,” Kent said dismissively, leaning back on one of the tables. “Coupla kids getting into occult stuff, trying to summon Cthulhu or something. Happens all the time.”

“That wouldn't explain the missing persons' reports.”

Kent let out a harsh sigh. “It's a small town, Agent. Kid runs away, mom freaks out and files a report, we catch 'em two weeks later down in Reno turning tricks for bus fare back home. It happens.”

Castiel looked up at the sheriff, eyes narrowed at the man's callousness. “None of these have returned.”

The sandy-haired man spread his arms out with an unconcerned shrug. “Maybe they got lucky.”

He ignored the sheriff's biting tone and turned back to the symbols etched into the concrete. They hadn't been scratched in very deeply, and despite the shelter of the picnic structure some of the text had already crumbled away in the recent rains, but there was enough for him to realize this was something completely different from what had been found at the other sites.

“It's Sumerian,” he announced after a few moments. That was the oldest language he'd found so far, which could mean this site was more important than the others.

“You mean it's actual letters?” Kent's voice went up in astonishment.

“More like pictographs,” Castiel replied. “Symbols representing words and ideas.” He leaned in closer and rested his hand on the concrete, wishing he could have gotten here even a few days earlier. The entire engraving was unfamiliar to him, which meant this was either copied from a lost text he'd never seen before...or something new.

Whatever it was, it wasn't another limerick.

“Great...woman...of heaven,” he muttered, tracing over the symbols. “This might be the symbol for the underworld, but it's not quite correct, see?” he turned to gesture to the sheriff, forgetting for a moment that it wasn't one of his friends behind him, and Kent just shrugged.

“You can read that chicken scratching?”

Castiel ignored the comment and stared down at the symbols again. “It could mean...queen of heaven?”

“The hell you talking about?”

He stood up, brushing his hands off and scanning the empty marina around them. “Possibly a reference to Inanna, but that doesn't make sense.” At Kent's confused stare he continued. “Inanna was a goddess of fertility and war. You couldn't summon her with a ritual like this.”

Kent was staring at him, expression unreadable. “What kind of agent are you, anyway?”

“I have to make a call,” Castiel said and brushed past Kent to climb back up the trail to the road. This was more than simple demonic activity—this was someone trying to summon a goddess.

It was time to call for backup.

“You're wrong you know,” Kent called after him. “It's not 'queen of heaven'...it's 'daughter'.”

Castiel spun around, only to see that the sheriff had vanished. He held himself still, listening for any sign of movement, then turned to hurry up the trail back to the truck.

The hint of sulfur in the air was his only warning, and Castiel threw himself to the ground as something big launched itself at him out of the trees that lined the trail. His angel blade was already in his hand as he rolled to his feet, brought up to guard against the massive arm that was swinging down on him. Even guarding, the creature's attack sent him staggering and he took a couple of quick steps back to dodge out of the way of another blow.

The creature on the path gave a bellowing cry and charged at him. He had little more than an impression of a bull-like head, mouth open to reveal rows of jagged teeth, crowned with curling ram's horns. The thing was taller even than Sam, and at least three times as broad, but for all its size it was monstrously fast and was inside the angel's guard before he had time to react. Castiel made a desperate swipe at the creature's arm but his blade merely skidded across the thing's toughened hide before it was knocked out of his grip.

Castiel reacted instinctively and managed to turn away from a blow that would have caved his ribcage in, though it glanced off his side with enough force to drop him to his knees, breathless. He rolled as a huge, cloven-hoofed foot came down toward him and tried to use the momentum to kick both feet up into the creature's groin. The creature bellowed again, more in fury than pain, and Castiel was unable to dodge the clawed hand that seized him by the leg and flung him into a young maple tree at the edge of the path. The tree's core gave with an audible crack and he slumped to the ground, his breath a shuddering rasp in his chest and his vision graying at the edges from the pain.

The monster was charging again. Castiel tried to roll to his feet, but cried out as pain exploded across his back as the creature caught him and raked its claws from his shoulders to his hips. The wounds burned as though infected with hellfire, and he was unable to defend himself as another clawed hand caught at his shoulder and flipped him onto his back.

He could feel dirt and debris being ground into his open wounds as the creature leaned down over him, one massive hand planted against Castiel's chest. The stench from the beast's mouth was nearly unbearable—sulfur and rotten meat and decay—as it leaned closer, throat rumbling as though in laughter.

Castiel could see his angel blade, just barely out of reach. With his left hand he pulled and twisted at the creature's wrist and with his right he grasped for the sword, fingertips just brushing against the rounded pommel. The monster noticed his movements after a moment and grabbed his free arm, wrenching it around until his shoulder was nearly pulled out of the socket. The creature's nails dug into the flesh of his forearm as his arm was bent back at an awkward angle until his elbow was practically screaming in protest.

In a last, desperate move he summoned his Grace in his left hand, pulling it away from healing his wounds to deliver a smiting blow that would burn this abomination out of its own body. He felt his eyes flare with light as Heavenly power surged through his body...then the creature was letting out a cry of fury and ragged claws were carving lines of agony across Castiel's eyes.

He screamed, the tentative hold on his Grace breaking apart as the Heavenly power evaporated, his focus broken in the sudden, blinding pain. The monster was immediately back on him, alternating savage claws with hammer-like blows. His stomach, legs, battered chest...even his ruined eyes, nothing was safe from the fiend's wrath. The creature bellowed, as though in triumph, and hoisted Castiel off the ground and over its head. He was vaguely aware that he was spinning, flying, falling...then he was flung down and struck something solid and knew no more.

…

Awareness crept back in slowly. Castiel didn't know how much time had passed but his injuries had begun to heal, if only slightly. The wounds from the creature's claws were like burning lines that were drawing the heat away from the rest of his body, leaving him weakened and chilled. His back was a flare of agony, but his eyes had fared even worse. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right eye wasn't much better. He managed to pry it open just enough to catch a glimpse of the space around him, but his vision swum and he was forced to blink several times to clear the tears that welled up in his damaged eye.

He seemed to be in a small partition inside a larger space. An old horse stall, perhaps, in one of the old barns he'd seen on journey up from the bunker. The walls were wooden, but on three sides the slats were spaced far apart enough that he could see the larger room beyond. The air was thick with the smell of blood and straw and the sickly-sweet odor of mice, and light streamed in through gaps in the ceiling and between the boards that covered the windows.

Castiel could hear someone moving outside the stall—feet shuffling through the straw, hints of a tune being hummed, the unmistakable sound of a blade dragging through flesh. He tried to roll to his stomach to get his hands under him, intent on standing up to get a look at his captor, but flinched back with a hiss of pain when his hand came into contact with the dirty straw beneath him. It was mixed with broken glass so that any attempt at movement would cut his body even further.

It was then that he noticed his shoes were missing, and that his captor had stripped him down to just his shirt and slacks. The thin fabric did little good to protect him from the glass, and even trying to settle back down the same way he'd been lying when he woke up was causing the shards beneath him to bite at his clothing and exposed skin.

The air around him was suddenly far too still and quiet.

The humming had stopped.

“I'm a little surprised to see you alive,” Kent announced. He was at the door to the stall, arms looped through the vertical bars of the door and fingers laced together. His sleeves were rolled up, though that did nothing to disguise the splashes of dark blood on his shirt. “Ozzy's little friends don't usually last more than one playdate.”

Castiel gingerly swept the glass and straw away from in front of him, clearing enough of a patch so he could push himself up to his knees. He was in no shape for a fight, but he could at least maneuver to a more defensible position. “What do you want with me?” His voice was gravely with pain, but he'd managed to keep any tremor out of it.

“Just to answer a few questions,” the sheriff—fake sheriff—sounded a little too cheerful at the prospect. “Who are you, what are you, why are you here...that sort of thing.”

He stared up at the man wordlessly. “I told you over the phone,” he began, but Kent interrupted.

“Cheap suit,” the fake sheriff announced. “Fake FBI badge. Now that could make you a journalist or a blogger, you'd be surprised what crawls up out of the woodwork for a case like this. But you could read an actual Sumerian invocation, so I'm thinking hunter.”

Kent leaned in closer, dark eyes focusing on Castiel's face. “Then you survive Ozzy. You should have bled out there on the trail, but here you are. So I'll ask again.”

There was a pulse of power in the air and Kent's eyes flared purple. “What are you?”

Castiel met the witch's gaze, mouth set in a stern line. He let the silence stretch on, eyes never wavering. His head was clearing as his Grace worked to mend the damage to his body. It would likely still be hours, if not a full day, before he recovered enough to attempt an escape but at least the pain was more bearable.

Kent broke the silence first. He grimaced and pushed himself back from the bars to call over his shoulder. “Ozzy! Bring our guest out here for me, would you?”

There was a heavy thud of footsteps in the barn beyond Kent's shadowed form, and Castiel forced himself to scramble to his feet with his back to the wall. The glass cut into his bare skin but he ignored it, focusing on finding some way to defend himself as the stall's slatted door was thrust to one side and the hulking beast that had attacked him on the trail loomed before him.

“Have you ever seen a Gallu?” Kent asked, almost conversationally, as the creature pushed its way in through the door. “They used to drag souls down to the lower planes of Hell for their masters. Luckily Oswald here is loyal to me.”

The Gallu was at least seven feet tall and four feet across. As Castiel had seen before, its head was almost bull-like, with the exception of numerous sharp teeth bristling out of its mouth. Huge, curling, ram-like horns crowned its head on either side, connected by a heavy brow that overshadowed small, dark eyes. The arms were long and muscular, ending in hands tipped with cruel, jagged claws. It walked on cloven hooves the size of a buffalo's, its legs bent back against themselves like a satyr's and covered with coarse hair that feathered out in ragged strands over its hooves. It could almost have been mistaken for a Minotaur, except for the lack of any semblance of humanity in its form and presence.

Gallu were part of a lower order of demons, lacking true sentience but brutally efficient at chasing down any soul that dared escape the confines of Hell. Crowley had supposedly trapped them all in one of the lower planes, preferring to govern Hell through bureaucracy rather than cruelty, but somehow this one had escaped. Or been summoned.

Castiel braced his hands against the wall, eyes flickering from the Gallu to the open doorway behind it. In his current state he was no match for the creature's speed and power in a direct confrontation, but if he could get around it he had a chance to escape. Its movement would be limited in the building and the Gallu had been made to track humans, not angels.

It struck, its speed just as lethal as it had been on the trail. Castiel tried to dodge to one side but the Gallu wrapped one massive hand around his left arm and pulled him forward. His feet slipped out from under him and he collapsed to his knees, his other hand flying out to break his fall. Broken glass tore at his slacks to dig into the flesh beneath, scraped across his palm until his hand was slick with blood.

He was pulled forward before he had time to regain his feet, the Gallu dragging him across the broken glass to the door of the stall. Castiel gave up trying to stand and aimed blows with his free hand at the creature's wrist. The Gallu growled in annoyance and hauled at Castiel's arm, pulling the angel off his feet and swinging him into the open barn beyond the stall. Before he could get his bearings the creature backhanded him hard enough to make white sparks explode in his vision, the force of the blow wrenching at his shoulder and elbow as he was knocked to the floor.

“Just hold him here,” Kent was saying. The Gallu yanked Castiel up by the arm and dragged him inexorably toward a long table in the center of the barn's open space. A partially-dissected corpse took up one end of the table, with lumps of organic matter filling a half dozen wooden bowls and a basin below the table rippling with partially-congealed blood.

Castiel was spun around and slammed shoulder-first onto the surface of the table. The Gallu placed one massive hand on his chest to hold him in place, the other wrapped around his wrist to stretch his arm out for examination. He couldn't see much of the corpse past the creature's bulk, but he'd seen the colorful ribbons braided into the blond hair.

In the files he'd gathered, one of the missing persons had last been seen with her hair decorated with ribbons in her school's colors. They hadn't just been runaways...Kent had been taking them.

“Shall we?” Kent said brightly. He had a short knife in his hand, the blade flecked with rust. Without another word he dragged it across Castiel's arm, tearing sleeve and flesh as he went. The witch studied the wound for a moment with a frown before reaching for a different knife and cutting Castiel's arm with that one as well. This one was silver, and Kent carefully watched for a reaction before setting the knife down with a puzzled frown.

“Next should be holy water, but I never touch the stuff,” he commented. “I supposed we could start with a few discovery runes, but if you're not reacting to iron and silver...”

His voice trailed off as he looked over the long table, then he smirked at Castiel and reached for another item. His angel blade.

“Tell me you're not the kind of guy who goes around carrying the one weapon that can hurt you,” Kent said teasingly. When Castiel refused to answer he pressed the tip of the angel blade to the inside of Castiel's elbow and dragged it down toward his wrist.

Castiel screamed. The bulb in the battery-operated lantern that hung over the table exploded, and Kent took a step back in shock.

He twisted, trying to free himself, but the Gallu's hold was relentless. Kent staggered forward, dropping the angel blade to rest the tips of his fingers on Castiel's wound, which was glowing with the faint sheen of Grace.

“I don't believe it,” Kent whispered, bringing his fingers up to press Castiel's blood to his lips. “You're an angel.” For a few long minutes Kent stared at the glowing wound in Castiel's arm, almost in reverence, while the Gallu leaned more of his weight against the angel's chest.

Kent suddenly took a step back and brushed his hands off on his thighs. “I'd better get moving. We'll need more supplies to keep an angel here, and I should call the girls. Better keep our guest entertained, Ozzy.” The Gallu gave a satisfied rumble as Kent strode away, but paused when the witch called over his shoulder. “And keep him quiet!”

Castiel tried one last lunge for his angel blade but the Gallu was faster. It twisted its fist in the front of Castiel's shirt and whirled around to fling him out into the open floor of the barn. The angel rolled and tried to push himself up to his feet, only to be knocked back down under the creature's onslaught. Ruthless claws tore at the flesh of his back, tearing open the half-healed wounds from the earlier attack. He tried to fight but he was easily flipped over and then the Gallu's hand was on his neck, squeezing until the bones creaked and his throat closed.

The Gallu lifted him by the throat and slammed him back down so his head bounced off the floor of the barn. And again, the grip on his neck tightening with every gasp of pain Castiel managed to choke out. He flailed useless at the hand on his throat as his wounded body grew weaker, the new slashes across his back burning fever-bright as they leeched the heat from the rest of his body.

Clawed fingers caressed his face, almost gently, tracing the jagged cuts the Gallu had left earlier that day. His left eye was still swollen shut, and the vision in his right was beginning to swirl and fade as his injuries multiplied.

Castiel tried to scream as pain erupted across his face, but could barely get a breath past the monster's grip on his throat. The Gallu was dragging its claws along the wounds it had left early, reopening the ones that had begun heal and tearing them even deeper.

He coughed, tasted blood in his mouth, and let the pain send him spiraling back into darkness as the Gallu dug into his wounds a second time.

. . .

There we go! Chapter one of seven!

You know how it goes! Likes and comments feed the muse and the muse makes the whump.

Okay, love you, bye!

#supernatural #fic #fanfic #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #team free will #gen or pre-slash #suspense #angst #hurt/comfort #graphic violence #torture #isolation #temporary blindness #monsters from dnd #shakespeare references #hurt castiel #hurt dean winchester #hurt sam winchester #just whump all around #mother hen dean winchester #lots of lore #miscarriages #sillbirths #cliffhangers

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger - Chapter 3 "What, Like It's Hard?"

Title: Legally Ginger Chapter 3: "What Like It's Hard?"

Rating: Teen (I'm sorry Ron and I are equally fond of the f word)

Summary: Based off the movie Legally Blonde. Ron makes the move to Boston but his Harvard career is off to a rough start.

Author Notes: I do want to caveat that not everyone who attends an Ivy League school is a snob so no offense to anyone that did; it’s just a fun romcom stereotype.

Additionally, I felt the need to address that it can be a bit scary for anyone to stalk someone across the country but particularly a man stalking a woman across country is historically problematic. Unfortunately, given it's basically the entire plot of this story, we can't completely avoid it. So remember, this is a fun thing in movies but a red flag in real life.

And yes, I do crib more from the movie on the curriculum. I did not attend law school and can use the help. So I bolded the language that was either verbatim or heavily cribbed from the movie.

Chapter title is a movie quote.

Thank you so much to adnei for all of the beta help and feedback!

I've been so excited to share this chapter with all of you and I think when you get to the end, you'll know why. Let me know what you think!

Link to AO3 or read more below.

“All set then?” asked his dad, closing the back of the old Ford Escape Bill had passed off to him.

“I think that’s all of it,” Ron agreed.

“Well, I’ll go get your mother then to see you off,” Dad said.

The twins and Ginny were standing on the curb, having already loaded the boxes they carried in the vehicle.

“Well, in two days, you’ll be knocking on Astoria’s door to find out if this crazy plan worked.”

Ron laughed. “Not exactly. Hopefully I run into her the first week.”

George’s jaw dropped. “You spent 90k of Muriel’s cash and wasted the best party semester of your life to hope to run into her?”

He hadn’t gone the entire spring semester without seeing Stori. She’d sought him out a few times for a bit of, as she put it, mutual stress relief, but refused to discuss anything further about their relationship. She had bid him a teary goodbye at their commencement ceremony, where he had been evasive about his post graduation plans.

“The point was to be worthy of her, not scare her. Ginny, imagine you get drafted by the Red Stars and suddenly that douche you dated, Corner, is working there as the strength and conditioning coach. You’d be freaked out.”

“It’s a good point,” said Ginny.

“Look, I’ll show up, I’ll get to know everyone, make my connections, and charm the professors. She’ll know I’m there without me ever telling her.”

“You never faded into the background at CULA,” Fred agreed.

“I’ll say hi if I see her but she’ll be knocking on my door by October,” Ron said confidentially.

“Oh yeah?” George’s voice was skeptical.

“You didn’t think I’d make it this far,” pointed out Ron. “It’s… it’s got to work.”

Suddenly, he felt his confidence drop. Was this a stupid plan?

“Best of luck, bro,” said Fred, giving him a one armed hug.

“Regardless of everything… Ron, you got into Harvard. Harvard. Don’t let them take that away from you,” Ginny said fiercely.

“Yeah, yeah, you sound like Mom now,” Ron said, brushing her off before his cheeks could burn. “Where’s she at? I’m burning daylight here.”

“I’m right here,” said his mom, walking out the front door of the ranch home he’d grown up in, holding a cooler. “I have some sandwiches to at least get you through the first day on the road,”

“First hour maybe,” George scoffed.

“Thanks Mom,” he took the cooler and stuck it in the car. When he turned back around, his dad had joined them again.

“Well, this is it,” he said awkwardly.

“Oh… Ginny, go pack a bag and join your brother. We’ll buy you a plane ticket home. Or I can come along,” his mom blurted out, nervously twisting her hands.

“Mom,” Ron groaned.

“Molly, he’ll be okay,” his dad said gently.

“Call me once a day,” Mom said. “Just during the trip,” she added, when Ron started to object.

“Okay,” he agreed. He drew her into a hug.

After he’d said goodbye to each of them, he whistled. “Pig, come on boy!” The pug ran across the yard and allowed Ron to scoop him up and put him in the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and swallowed hard. Was this a big mistake?

“We’re so proud of you, son,” his dad said.

“We’ll see you at Christmas?” his mom asked.

Ron didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded and closed the car door. He started the vehicle and with one last wave, he backed out of the driveway.

**********************************************

Five days later, Ron’s alarm was blaring.

“What fucking time is it?” he muttered, slamming the sleep button. In response, Pig grunted and rolled over.

It had been four days of naps and showers at truck stops, coffee, Monster, and fast food but he’d arrived yesterday in order to get a decent night’s sleep before today’s orientation. He, however, had failed to calculate in the three hour time difference that combined with his driving fatigue, was wreaking havoc on his mind and body.

He sighed and went to a still packed box marked “clothes”. He immediately groaned. His khakis were wrinkled as hell. Should have hung them in the bathroom last night when he showered to at least get a little help from the steam.

Luckily, he had a couple dress shirts in the garment bag with his sports coat and two suits. During his brother Percy’s summer visit, he’d used one of Ron’s rare free days to take him shopping. Percy had gotten some advice from a friend of his that attended the University of Chicago on law school attire and had insisted Ron needed at least three suits.

Ron, who was expecting that this whole thing would be wrapped up by spring, balked at the idea but finally agreed to one new suit to go with the one he already owned, a blazer, khakis, and a few polo shirts. He had shirts and tie combos from various formal and semi-formal events, but doubted he’d need much of it. Percy’s friend had said classes were business casual and while his golf shirts were comfortable enough, Ron really hoped that by the second week, everyone was wearing hoodies in class.

He finished getting ready and then grabbed Pig’s leash. “Come on boy,” he prodded the slumbering pug. “If you don’t go now, you’ll be holding it all day.”

They walked the campus, enjoying the morning quiet. While it didn’t give Ron the ease and sense of belonging CULA did, it was an impressive campus. For a moment, he wished he’d taken his mom up on the offer to come out with him - she’d love to see this. He hated the loneliness he felt and was glad to see Pig do his business. Sooner he could get to orientation and meet some people, the better.

********************************

Orientation had been a mix of boring and interesting. He’d slipped in right at the last minute and sat in the back row to ensure he went unnoticed if he were in the same group of students as Astoria. Luckily, he didn’t notice her in the room. While he missed her terribly, he hadn’t come this far to destroy his plans now, and running into her before classes even started was not the plan.

Now they had moved into the social mixer part of the evening, which he was delighted to see that unlike undergrad, law school mixers included booze.

“Uh… you have anything local?” Ron asked the bartender.

“Nothing craft but I do have Dogfish Head,” the bartender said.

“That’ll do,” Ron responded, sticking a dollar in the tip cup. Had Astoria accepted his proposal, maybe he would have pursued the Boston Beer job and he’d have cases of this stuff in their kitchen. The bartender handed him a glass full of his other life and he wandered over to a small group of people, chatting.

“Hi, Ron Weasley,” he said sticking out his hand to the woman on his right.

“Uh, hi,” she said, sounding surprised but not unfriendly. “Lisa Turpin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ernie MacMillan,” said a blonde man, standing next to Lisa. Ron shook his hand and then shook the hand of the man next to him who introduced himself as Jack Sloper.

“We were just discussing undergrads,” Ernie said. “Jack and I were both Princeton men, although I took a gap year in Europe so different classes. Lisa here was an Eli. How about you?”

Ron inwardly winced. This guy sounded so pompous. An Eli, really? Anyone who watched a few seasons of Gilmore Girls knew what that was. Ron took a deep breath. “West coast here. I graduated from CULA.”

“That’s a solid state school system,” said Ernie. It wasn’t an insult, but when he said it, somehow it sounded like one.

“Yeah, well, it got the job done,” he said, forcing his friendliest tone.

“What were your undergrad degrees in?” Jack asked the group.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a stereotype. Political science for me,” Ernie chuckled.

“Same,” said Lisa. “Although I double majored in French.”

“I was a double major as well. Economics and Spanish,” Jack responded.

“There just wasn’t time for a double major while I was student body president, I’m afraid,” Ernie said. “What about you, Ron?”

“Uh, yeah, just the one major for me. Food science,” he said self-consciously.

“Food science,” Lisa repeated, her tone again not unfriendly but certainly not welcoming. Ron’s whole body stiffened.

“Like cooking?” asked Jack skeptically.

“No, there are a few different concentrations but I was focused on food biochemistry and microbiology,” he explained.

“I think the only micro I’m aware of with food is microwaves or microbrewing,” Jack said, letting out a condescending chuckle.

“Actually, brewing was a big part of my internship last summer. I was at Anheuser-Busch working on their new sustainable brewing initiative,” he said.

“Interesting,” said Lisa. “Ernie, where did you spend your time abroad?”

“I assume you’re interested in whether I spent any time in France, which I can assure you that I did.”

“I hope when you say France, you don’t just mean Paris,” said Jack and Ron was glad to see his condescension focused on someone else.

Ernie laughed loudly in response. “Of course not.”

Ron took a big swig of his beer. This was going to be a long night.

***********************

Ron shifted his backpack as he carefully studied the room numbers next to each door. Everyone else looked so comfortable and confident and he wondered if all of his fellow students had mapped out their routes in advance of the first day of classes.

His eyes were so busy shifting from the left side of the hallway to the right that he failed to notice someone stopped right in front of him until he slammed into them.

“Ooof,” he said. “I’m sor - ”

“Ron?!”

Of course he had just walked right into Astoria.

Astoria stood there, mouth hanging open as she stared at him. Despite the gormless look on her face, she looked absolutely gorgeous with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight curled ponytail, the kind he used to love to pull out at the end of the day. Even though it was just barely September, she was wearing an orange cardigan and he thought about how she obsessively dressed in what she called “the colors of the season”.

“Hey there,” he forced out in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Going to class,” Ron responded. “Don’t want to be late; see you!” He took broad steps around and away from her.

Ron let out a sigh of relief as his classroom was the next one he spotted. He took a deep breath as he walked into the lecture hall for his first class. He spotted a seat near the middle of the room that felt like the right place for the impression he wanted to make.

“Hey,” he greeted the guy next to him. The guy nodded, not even looking up from his laptop. Ron shrugged and pulled his computer out of his bag and powered it up.

While it was sooner than he had hoped, Ron had played it pretty cool with Astoria during their chance meeting. Short and to the point, nothing dumb or embarrassing said. His most successful interaction at Harvard to date.

While he was congratulating himself, a severe looking older woman walked purposefully to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

“Welcome to the start of your legal education,” she said. “I’m Professor McGonagall.”

As the professor began to speak about the syllabus, Ron allowed his mind to wander back to Astoria. She hadn’t looked upset or angry to see him, merely surprised. Maybe a bit uncomfortable, which was understandable. She also looked phenomenal. It had been way too long since they had been together and he had almost forgotten how stunning she was.

“Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele?”

Ron looked up with a start. “Huh?”

Professor McGonagall was standing right in front of him, looking annoyed. “Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele as it relates to subject matter jurisdiction?”

“Uh…” Ron said, shocked. “It’s the first day of class.”

The classroom was now silently watching him.

“Did you not read the first fifty pages of the assigned text?” McGonagall asked.

“I didn’t realize there was an assignment,” Ron said nervously. He heard a snort behind him and his head whipped around to look at the source.

Professor McGonagall seemed to hear the snort too and shifted her focus. “And you, young man? You could answer my question?”

“Of course,” the smartass snorter said. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair.

Oh, thought Ron. This guy is the worst.

“So would you support my decision to ask this student to remove himself from class until he’s prepared?”

Ron froze.

“Yes Professor,” said the cocky douchebag.

Professor McGonagall motioned to Ron. “Once you’re prepared, you will be welcomed back to class. Until then…”

Ron packed up his laptop, completely stunned. He gave a hard stare at the messy haired jerk, who smirked back at him as he stomped out of the room.

**********************

“You have to be fucking kidding me. Where the fuck does she get the right… and that fucking douchebag,” Ron muttered.

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out from behind him. “That’s more profanity than I care to hear in a week, let alone at 8:30 on a Monday.”

Ron looked up, irritated by the interruption to his own self pity. The reprimand came from a pretty curly haired brunette perched on a neighboring bench, a giant stack of books beside her. Despite her scolding words, she had a hint of a smile. A smile that actually looked friendly.

“Sorry,” he said, ears turning red. “I just… are they always that mean?”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, like, call you out like that. My professors have always liked me all right,” Ron replied, feeling quite embarrassed to explain this to her.

“Yes, they tend to do that. Socratic method,” said the woman.

“Ah,” he responded. He knew the name Socrates thanks to his philosophy major ex, but nothing of the method.

“Were you with McGonagall?”

“Yeah. She kicked me out!”

The brunette made a sympathetic noise.

“She ever kick you out?”

The woman now looked scandalized. “Never! But I had nightmares about her my whole first week. Who else do you have?”

“Uh, Sprout, Slughorn, Umbridge…”

“Umbridge likes when you speak up in class but make sure you always concede to her in the end. Slughorn’s kind of pretentious but if you make good use of your thesaurus for his papers, he’s easy to please.”

“Nice, thanks,” Ron said, nodding his head with a slight smile. She grinned back at him.

“This place is tough; don’t let one setback your first day throw you off,” she urged.

“I’m glad I picked this bench. So what year are - ”

“Ron? Can we talk?” Astoria was standing in front of him, looking a bit nervous.

“If you want,” he said carefully.

“Please,” she said, taking a few steps back. Ron lifted a hand in goodbye to the girl on the bench before approaching Astoria.

“So… you’re at Harvard,” she said nervously, rubbing her right hand over her left.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“And… you got into Harvard,” Astoria said.

“Clearly,” he answered, a bit irritated by her tone. She didn’t really think he was an idiot, did she?

“How was your first class? “

“It could have been better,” Ron admitted.

“That’s because you-you don’t belong here,” Astoria said. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m trusting that you’re not here to, like stalk me or hurt me or something. Regardless, this just isn’t something you can do. The people that are going to be successful here… they’re like, bred for this. And it’s not you. I didn’t break up with you to be a bitch. This just isn’t something you’re cut out for.”

“Stori - ” he tried to interrupt.

“And Ron, it costs a fortune to go here! How are you even covering this? I still care about you. Please, just cut your losses now,” she pleaded.

“No way,” said Ron, feeling the fire to prove himself ignite. “Look, my first class was rough but it’s because I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how all of this works. Now I do. Frankly, that asshole that got me kicked out did me a favor because - ”

“Stori, there you are.” Out of nowhere, the aforementioned asshole from class appeared and slung a possessive arm around Astoria’s shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” she said, biting her lower lip and no longer meeting Ron’s eyes.

“We haven’t properly met although, after that disaster in class, maybe it’s pointless,” chuckled the douchebag.

“Ron, this is Harry Potter… my fiancé.”

Ron clenched his jaw but he knew his ears were reddening in a dead giveaway. “Really?”

“Harry was my high school boyfriend. We reconnected this spring and it just felt… right,” Astoria answered awkwardly.

“Well… congratulations.”

“Thanks buddy,” Harry said, voice dripping in mock sincerity.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go,” Ron said. Summoning every ounce of self control he had, he quickly walked in the direction of his residence hall, Astoria calling after him.

#au romione #romionecom #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #ron weasley #ron and hermione #hp fanfic #harry potter au

[imhereforbvcky]

Team Re-Building - Part 1

Summary: (Sam Wilson x reader, FalconCap humor/fluff) After the events of EndGame, the remaining Avengers head out on a mandatory team building exercise at your cattle ranch. The week turns out as unexpected for you as the idea was for them.

Prompt/Request: “Is that a horse?! Do I look like a cowboy to you?” For mine and @justsomebucky’s Cap² Challenge. I separated the prompt a little for flow, but I think I kept the spirit of it.

Warnings: None. Probably swearing. I’ve got a mouth and I can’t control it.

Word Count: 2061

A/N: This is just a little 2 part series. Part 2 is totally done. I’m planning to queue it to post in just 2 days! yay! 2 in 2 days, that’s easy to remember.

“Are you sure this is it?” Bucky muttered. His eyes followed the wrought iron banner propped between two enormous raw logs rising to form the arched entry. Dead center, the flying K brand stood dark and resolute against the bright afternoon sun.

“No,” Rhodes grumbled, “I haven’t seen a road sign for at least fifteen miles. Just dirt and tumbleweeds.”

The group held a collective breath when the modified jeep rattled over the cattle grate beneath the arch. The all-terrain vehicle had been waiting for them at the tiny regional airport when they’d landed. Now it made sense. The road went from grated dirt to a rugged two-wheel cut path over hill and stone.

Sam tried to convince himself it was all part of the experience, but frankly, the kinds of experiences he preferred usually involved a cold beer on his patio or a jog along a beach. The mountains were, admittedly, something to see. Jagged stone fingers clawed out of the hills, reaching unknowable heights into the unending blue sky. The photos on the brochure hadn’t done it justice.

Still, he just wished he wasn’t seeing them with clenched teeth and fists tight around the roll bar of the jeep as it hauled them all further and further from civilization.

“Why are we doing this, again, Sam?” Wanda asked, her arm darting out to his shoulder to brace against the jostling.

“Team building?”

“And there’s no ‘team building’ in New York?” Bucky complained, leaning past Wanda to glare at Sam.

“Couldn’t we have done a trust fall or something?” Rhodes agreed with a smirk on his lips at his own joke.

“How long’re you gonna hold that over my head?” Sam complained.

“'Til that face you make stops being funny.”

“Well, that’s exactly why we’re here.”

“I still don’t see why we had to be here,” Bucky insisted.

“Look, if any of you have figured out how to skip out on Maria Hill’s orders, you let me know the magic words and I’ll get us out of shit like this next time.”

Before too much longer the little caravan had made its way over the foothills and pulled up to a large cabin. It looked old, like the stones had been there as long as the mountains themselves, but the logs were freshly sealed and the chairs on the sprawling porch looked deep and inviting with soft leather cushions and bright red pillows.

“Hi there!” The voice that greeted them sounded like it was made there in those hills. It rolled gently and warmed like the sun on the breeze. “Welcome to Kestrel Point.”

“Thanks for accommodating our crew,” Sam stepped forward, offering his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

A laugh tumbled out. “I think we know who you are. All of you.” Your smiling eyes darted to the group behind him, still righting themselves after climbing down out of the jeep.

Sam wasn’t quite used to that yet. Sure, he’d been an Avenger for years now, had worn the armor of a hero. But after the Decimation… after the fight in upstate New York… after he picked up that shield… Being known had a different weight to it; sat just a little heavier on his shoulders.

“Right,” he shook his head and glanced back at what was left of the team, at those who’d survived, who hadn’t been left too worn to continue the fight. It was his team to lead now, his to rebuild and hold together.

You watched the struggle dance across his features and saw it echo in the furtive glances among the others. But you didn’t remark on it, nor did you hesitate. It was your job to help them find their rhythm and rebuild their strength, not to dwell on the present cracks in the armor.

Offering the same wide smile, you introduced yourself and a few of your staff before clapping your hands together, brows leaping with excitement. “Well let’s get started! My guys will take your bags to your rooms, and if y’all will follow me, we’ll get you matched up and get you started.”

When you turned toward the barn, nodding for them to follow, there was no argument. At least not that you saw. Mainly because you didn’t wait for one. That didn’t mean there weren’t protests. There was a flurry of wide-eyed glances exchanged from everyone but Clint.

For once, Clint felt right at home. He’d made a beeline for the stables and perched up on the split-rail fence with all the ease of familiarity. They might be thick western saddles here instead of the sleek black tack of his memory but the sound of twisting leather and long swooshing tails took him right back. With a distinct brand of nostalgia, he recalled rows of agile white Lipizzans, practically glowing under the circus tent lights. Visions of children gawking at larger-than-life Percherons filled his head and a slow grin eased over his face.

While your ranch hands tied the last of the horses in a row before him along the fence, ready and waiting, you lead the rest group inside. They weren’t quite ready.

“Is that a horse?!” Sam balked as he approached. It suddenly all clicked for him what Hill had been planning and he was not a fan. He liked the smirk on Barton’s face even less as watching him stroke a hand down the nose of a particularly antsy Quarter Horse. “No. I think there’s been a fundamental misunderstanding on our end.”

You laughed as he backed away. “Miss Hill warned us this was not the most uh… experienced group,” you tucked your worn leather utility gloves in your back pocket and gently slipped your fingers around his bicep, easing him forward. “You have nothing to worry about Mr. Wilson. We’ll take it slow.”

You were meant to be comforting him, but the moment he felt your contact and looked down at you with the softest, deepest umber gaze you’d even laid eyes on and it was your breath that caught in your chest. The words suddenly vanished on your tongue and it was all you could do to mimic the slow pull of his smile at your playful word choice.

“Do I look like a cowboy to you?” he asked, teeth flashing that smile.

You coughed on a laugh and looked at your feet. Boots. That’s right. They needed boots, that’s what you had been doing before. Before Sam Wilson and his damn smile.

“Not yet,” you agreed, shrugging one shoulder. “But we’ll take care of that.”

It took three full days to get everyone sufficiently steady on horseback. By the morning of day four, you’d decided it was sink or swim. The herd had nearly eaten through the winter pasture and before long the creek cutting across the valley would be swollen and racing with snowmelt. If you didn’t drive the cattle up to the newly sprouting summer lands soon, it would be too late.

A little instruction on the trail, couched softly in teasing and laughter might get the team where they needed to be skill-wise. If not, your own team flanked the Avengers, just in case. They might fight aliens and save half the galaxy, but they had never chased a scared new calf down a ravine.

Well, maybe Clint had.

He was, of course, a natural. Animals were his thing. Particularly large gentle ones whose affection could be bought with food. He’d spent his down time near the stables, figuring out what Apollo’s favorite snacks were and had stuffed his pockets with broken carrots.

The others… well they were lucky if they’d encountered a horse at a petting zoo before that week.

Bucky hadn’t seen a whole hell of a lot of cattle in Brooklyn between 1917 and 1943. And after that, war and survival had pretty much been his sole priorities until very recently.

Rhodes had no interest. He was a modern military man with his own Iron Man suit. Let’s face it; he had a better ride and more pressing matters anyway.

Wanda spent most of her life in a concrete cell. You weren’t sure if she had ever even seen a horse in person before climbing out of that jeep on your ranch. But she took to it pretty well. Those with a gentle demeanor usually did. You’d paired her with a sweet old mare that didn’t spook easily. Eventually the slow sureness of the horse seemed to have a calming effect for Wanda. She found herself enjoying her time away from so many people, away from their thoughts and fears. You could imagine her leasing out a ride now and again when she went home.

Bruce was… well half Bruce and half green and far too big to sit a horse. Didn’t stop him watching and teasing, though.

And Sam. Sam was maybe the most fun for you. He was all city, all soldier. Stiff but determined.

“I know you’re not laughing at me!” he hollered as you circled back and eased to a trot beside him. He looked so stiff and uncomfortable; you just couldn’t help but snicker. “Not again.”

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes, grin so wide it hurt. “Just… You’ve gotta relax.”

“There’s a thousand pound animal between my legs!”

“And you think clenching up is gonna keep him from throwin’ you?” you teased.

It didn’t help. Logic flew out the window when fear came knocking. Sam only glared in your general direction, too anxious to look away for long. But you saw him fighting back a smile.

“Alright, well I think Ranger’s been a smooth ride and it’s high time you return the favor,” you tried again, reaching over and untying the lead you’d left on Sam’s horse.

Sam glanced down at his steel grip on the pommel. “What do you mean?” he asked, eyeing Ranger as if there was some lever that would make this all easier.

“You’re ex-military, right? I assume you had to carry a person at some point in your training?”

“Para-rescue. Carried injured friendlies out all the time. How’s that supposed to help?”

“Was it easier if the payload was stiff as a board or if they moved with you?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled. “I see your point.”

“It’s a ride not a beating. Treat it like a lady,” you joked, encouraging him to push again into a trot and offering advice as you continued alongside. “Move with him. ‘ll be easier on your ass and his back. Relax and let your hips roll.”

“Do you talk to all your clients like this, or am I just lucky?” He was smiling now, still looking down at his horse.

You, however, laughed beside him, relishing in his flirtatious nature. His easy smiles and quick wit had captured you early on. It had been a while since you’d enjoyed someone’s company this much. “You’re definitely somethin’.”

“That didn’t sound like a good thing.” He pouted, but with that little shine in his eyes, that extra roundness to his cheeks that betrayed the grin beneath. Like it was just waiting to erupt and brighten his whole face. The longer you spent near him, the greater the pang deep in your gut at the thought of what that full smile might look like. Would it be better than these secret hidden ones? Would it warm you head to toe? Ignite this heat that seemed to spark from something as small as a little grin?

You needed to breathe, get your head back on your shoulders. With a swift squeeze of your knees your horse notched forward.

The more Sam had talked with you, joked, and flirted, the less he had time to worry about his horse. He relaxed, consciously or not, he and his horse settled into a rhythm.

Satisfied with his ability and desperately needing the distance, you led the way out onto the soft green acres that sprawled beneath the rough granite peaks. Fresh spring leaves quivered in the breeze and blankets of snow still dominated most of the mountaintop.

You pushed ahead into a canter, resuming your duties checking in on the other guests – the other Avengers. But not before turning over your shoulder with a grin just for him, just for Captain goddamn America.

“I think I’m the lucky one this time.”

Part 2 >>

#sam wilson x reader #sam x reader #cap2challenge #samcap x reader #falconcap x reader #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson imagine #avengers fanfic #avengers imagine #team rebuilding #team rebuilding part 1 #team rebuilding 1

[heroes-writing]

Write about whatever character of your choosing teaching their s/o how to cook! (headcannons seem easier but whatever you want)

Oh the power!!~ To get to choose~~  Ahhh I can’t decide so I’ll do my fav boys!!

(Also sorry if I made Genos’ s/o particularly bad at cookinglmaoo I found the situation too hilarious to ignore~)

Total Word Count: 1877

Genos: Word Count: 758

When Genos was behind the counter in Saitama’s kitchen, itwas like watching a magician perform.

With steam rising from multiple pots on the stove, and defthands moving in hyper speed-- he chopped, sliced, peeled, and seasonedeverything to perfection. Sometimes, for your benefit, he performedintricate techniques to crack open eggs or flip a something into the air.

You were content to watch him work, to taste the aftermathand give him compliment after compliment, but when it your time to cook for him…

It was all too easy to become intimidated by the masterhimself.

You stood in your own small home. Your kitchen…well it wasn’tused to its full potential to say the least. You had all sorts of pots and pansout, one measly steak knife in hand, and a crummy peeler you bought at thestore that very afternoon…

Your kitchen was inexperienced to say the least. You werefond of take-away, Genos’s food, or premade meals from the store.

You had dewy grocery bags gathered in a large pile on thecounter, and you weren’t sure how to start.

When were you supposed to cook the vegetables? The meat? Thecooking times were different but, you wanted it done at the same time…

You sent a nervous glance to Genos, who for once was in yourusual position. Sat at the kitchen table, watching you silently. The smile onhis face was small and so blissfully content-- damn it! You were determined tokeep it there.

You turned around and adjusted the pots and pans on thestove to your liking. You turned on the burners, figuring the pans needed towarm up properly. Then twirled back around to the grocery bags with raisedhands. Okay. No problem. Start small with baby steps, and you could have awonderful meal by the end of it!

You took your time unpacking everything, then decided toneatly arrange it all in rows—Wait, you should wash all the veg right??

“…Do you need my assistance at all? (Name)?”

You jolted and waved your hands wildly, knowing he wasgetting concerned by his sweet tone.

“N-no no!! I’m fine. I uh, I can do it. Just finding arhythm here...That’s all.”

Genos gazed at you blankly for a moment. His was stillsmiling with his eyes blank—somehow his expressions were softer without thepiercing yellow pupils.

“Do you have a recipe?”

You wilted, “Um, not—not really. I’m kind of wingingit.”

Without pause, he stood and approached the sink to wash hishands. His posture was nonchalant, and his smile was completely reassuring,even as you gestured for him to sit back down.

“Wait! Remember I’m cooking for YOU tonight—"

“Yes.” He replied stubbornly, “But I can teach you what Iknow too. We can do this together if you would like?” He said this as he driedhis hands, and without losing your gaze, he reached for the other (purelydecorative) apron you had hanging on the kitchen side. It was pink, yellow,and completely garish against the shiny black metal of his arms. Genos didn’tseem to care. He already seemed determined, and you knew there was no stoppinghim.

You head drooped into your shoulders, “I wanted to make youa meal…”

He rose his brows, his tone shifting into something soothingfor your benefit. “I understand, but I also want to make sure you cook…safely.”As if making a point, he turned off all the burners on the stove. Much to yourconfusion.

He answered your unspoken question, “You’ll ruin your potsdoing that, or burn your house down. Especially if they’re stainless steel.”

“Huh?” You gestured to them, “They’re made out ofmetal!”

“Metal can burn, (Name).” His smile grew wider as hechuckled to himself.

Your cheeks puffed as you dragged your hands down your face.

“Here, let’s make a salad first--”

“Salad! That’s too easy—” You whined. You hadit all pictured in your head of what you wanted—you wanted it to be the slickand fancy meals they served at five-star restaurants—

Genos hands were quick to calm you. He gently coaxed you tostand in front of him, pulling you into something of a half hug. Blinking inconfusion, you let him move you like a doll, till your back was against hischest, and he had your hands in cradled in his.

In the shell of your ear he murmured, “I’ll walk you throughit. We’ll wash, peel, and cut the vegetables. Then we’ll make our ownvinaigrette…”

You felt him press a sweet kiss to the back of your head,and that was all it took to wipe all the fight from your form. With hisproximity, you found the idea rather appealing suddenly.

“You’ll teach me?”

“Mm, then when I know you’re safe you can cook whenever youlike.”

Blushing, you nodded and pressed back against him, eager forthe rare affection. The whole of him was hard, but warm and always hummingslightly.

“Let’s begin…”

You smiled, although he couldn’t see it— You remedied thatquickly by slipping around and planting a quick kiss on his lips.

Mischievous, you tugged his arms to bring them tighteraround your waist, the little bump you felt as you pressed against thecounter’s smooth edge gave you immense satisfaction.

“Okay! I’m ready when you are!”

 .-.-.-.--.-.

Zombieman: Word count: 1119

“If you weren’t immortal, you’d be dead of scurvy.”

“Would not.” Z paused, giving his next words some seriousthought, “…I like Umeboshi just fine.”

You sputtered another laugh into your first, your smile alreadygrowing sore, “Oh come on, Z!”

“Dying of scurvy though, that’s a new one.” Zombieman was raisinghis brows at you, his lips twitching into a handsome smile.

“I don’t think Umeboshi from rice balls counts as a source ofcalcium, babe.” You jibed, and he shrugged.

“If I eat enough of em, they will.”

Shaking your head, you watched him press the stub of hiscurrent cigarette into the crowded ashtray on your porch railing. His own silentchuckle was shaking his broad shoulders.

Along with the small gas grill Z was currently standing infront of, you had bought the ash tray just for him.

There were small, little objects that the two of you hadbegun to buy for each other. Little possessions to make staying with oneanother comfortable an easy…Every time you thought about it, your heart burstwith love and affection~ Z tended to purchase comfier blankets and pillows foryour stays at his place.

While you finally gave under the need to cook food yourboyfriend preferred.

Z-man loved his steak, burgers, and yakinuku meatskewers after all. And apparently, they didn’t taste the same when madeon an electric grill. Hmph.

He seemed to love grilling at least, since getting it, a lotof your meals had been prepared on it although you were still somewhat skittishof the flames.

You sipped your small drink, to ease your throat, and placedit gently on the table between your chairs. The summer air was loud withcicadas, but they couldn’t completely beat the loud sizzling coming from thegrill.

Whatever he had under the lid tonight did smell tasty.

As if on cue, your stomach growled, and Z looked at you witha raised brow as he clinked the grilling tongs together.

“Hungry?”

You nodded desperately before jerking your head towards thedoor, “When should I start on the sides?”

“Mm.” He opened the lid, letting oppressive heat and flamejump out. “I’d give it 20 minutes or so.”

“Okidoki~” You were looking forward to making his plate andfilling it up, just how he liked it.  

“(Name), you haven’t even used this thing yet, right?” Hegestured to the grill as he picked up his own drink to take a long sip.

You hummed, giving the silvery and red finish of the grill aperturbed glance. “…I’m more of a baker, I think.”

He snorted, “What would you do if you had to survive in thewild though?”

“Oh no, this conversation again!” You grinned, “First ofall, I’d have you, and you could deal with the—” You gestured with yourhands, “Being a caveman, making a fire or whatever...But how is workinga grill anything like working over a campfire??”

His grin was purposefully teasing, “It’s basically thesame thing.”

“You don’t have those fancy knobs in the wild, Z.”  

He shook his head, and clicked the tongs again, “C’mere,I’ll show you how to work it~”

“Oh, come on, it’s hot, and you want me near a flameright now?”

“It’ll give me peace of mind if you knew how to work it~”

“That’s bullshit, you just want me to suffer and sweat withyou.”

He grinned and laughed in that carefree way of his that madehis tired eyes crinkle at the edges. It made your heart melt—just a little…

While shaking your head and rolling your eyes, you couldn’tdeny him when he was holding a hand towards you.

You put your hand in his and let him pull you out of yourseat all too easily. His strength allowed him to tug you close and under hisarm as he used the other to raise the grill lid.

You recoiled from the heat that blew over you. “Ugh!” You complained,straight into Z’s shoulder.

He jostled you playfully and offered you the tongs. “Doesn’tit feel great?”

Almost choking on the heat, you gasped, “Literally feelslike I’m 2 feet away from the Sun.”

He hummed into your hair, and it only served to make the warmthmore obvious.

You gazed into the black and flaming insides of the grilland jolted in surprise. “Ohh! You’re making some peppers too?”

His hand slipped across your own guiding you forward, “Mhm.We should flip em over, so they don’t get too well done.”

“I love these!” You insisted, and you felt him chuckleagainst your temple, “Oh, I know.”

Tentatively he guided you to raise the tongs, but youstalled as you watched the flames licking high and then ducking low into thegrill.

He answered your unspoken question, “You won’t get burned,just don’t linger, and use the tongs.”

A little uneasy but placing your trust in him anyway, youshrugged.

“…M’kaaay.” With your approval, he guided you with your armheld high and the tongs at a safe distance away. With the summer wind dyingdown, the jumping flames settled... It suddenly seemed about as dangerous asanything else on the stove.

Zombieman’s head rested on your shoulder, “We shouldprobably put the peppers on the other side of the grill. You keep a hot sideand a cooler side, you know?”

“Oh.” You said, as you flipped some of the peppers and meatskewers around.

Focused and moving with more of your own will than Z’s youchirped “Okay! I got this~” Now completely confident in yourself you arrangedthe contents of the grill to your liking.

Then you gently elbowed his stomach, “Alright Z, I don’tneed your help anymore.~” You made sure to make your voice proud and playful.

“Eh? You’re through with me?” He curled his arms around yourwaist, not even seeming to care about the heat, and while closing the lid, youtried to half heartedly pull his arms away.

“Oh no, it’s too hoooot, cuddle me in the winter.”  

He squeezed just once before laughing and slipping away. Amutual sigh of relief rang through you both, as cooler air washed over yourback and arms. Z shook his head and pinched his shirt away from his body, “Yeah,it’s a little too hot for that...”

“You’re too hot.” You joked, and just for the hell of it, yougot on your tippy toes and blew a cold stream of air over his neck beforekissing his jaw.

Upon seeing his shiver, you laughed to yourself, and skippedaway before he could pull you back in for another too hot hug.

#genos #zombieman #opm #one punch man #opmscenario #opm scenario #these hcs turned into scenarios thats just how it be sometimes lmao #this ask was sooo cuutte #Anonymous

[douxreviews]

The Handmaid's Tale - ‘Unfit’ Review

"I've never seen anyone so devoted."

Like the Canadian story line, the flashbacks in this show are often a welcome relief from the horrors of present day Gilead. This time, not so much.

Let me start by saying that Ann Dowd is absolutely awesome as the fearsome Aunt Lydia, and a flashback to her past should have done more to explain her character. Instead, even in her past, Lydia was taking children from their mothers while pontificating about her good intentions. She is just as conflicted and confusing as she always was. Maybe there's just no explaining people like Lydia. Or anyone who fits in Gilead.

Lydia Clements was a fourth grade teacher who used to work in family law. She went from judging Noelle, a poor young mother with a bad job, to helping her financially and giving her emotional support (which was lovely), to initiating legal proceedings that successfully took Noelle's son Ryan away from her. A remarkably bad thing that followed a remarkably good thing, and note how Lydia's clothing and hair style changed from loose, comfortable and attractive to a Gilead-like shapeless outfit and restrained bun.

This was tied in to Lydia's possible new boyfriend, Principal Jim. Lydia and Jim seemed so well matched: both were single again with careers in education, and clearly religious since they both quoted the Bible in casual conversation. Jim even said grace in the karaoke bar before they ate. (Karaoke "Islands in the Stream." Too cute, and adorably out of character for Lydia.)

Why would their aborted lovemaking on the couch push Lydia over the edge into such overwhelming shame, into violently destroying her own image in a mirror? Was it because she finally allowed herself to acknowledge her own sexual needs, and being rejected was too heavy a blow? For that matter, why did Jim stop? His wife died three years ago. Was it really too soon for him, or did her aggressive move on the couch turn him off? And why did this incident make Lydia turn on Noelle? Because Noelle had encouraged her to date again, had given her makeup?

Tying this into our lead character, we've all been wondering how June is still alive considering how badly she's been acting. I think June is too angry right now to be frightened of what could happen to her. Maybe Aunt Lydia sees June the way she saw Noelle, as someone she would try over and over again to push in the right direction – until she didn't. This doesn't bode well for June.

I enjoyed the three gossipy aunts around a table matching Handmaids to Commanders more than the flashbacks. This was background that we needed. Aunt Lydia complained about June's misbehavior, but then she talked about June being misled. "We never had issues with Ofjoseph before the Waterfords. A problem household, to say the least. And she was there for all that business with Emily." Aunt Elizabeth added, "And Lillie." It's an explanation for why June is still alive and undamaged. Not a great one, but an explanation.

During the almost comical testifying scene in the gym, June did acknowledge that Frances' death was June's fault, and that Hannah would suffer for what June did. And then June took that opportunity to turn on Ofmatthew, saying truthfully that Ofmatthew didn't want her baby. We learned that Ofmatthew thought her baby was going to be a girl this time, and she didn't want to bring a daughter into Gilead. I so can't blame her.

During their shopping trip to Loaves and Fishes, June smiled as Ofmatthew snatched the guardian's gun and went on her desperation spree, and then she nodded when Ofmatthew was aiming the gun at her. I think June was ready to die. When Ofmatthew changed her target to Aunt Lydia, I was yelling, "Kill her!" Sadly, no. The death of Ofmatthew and her possibly female fetus, along with the death of Ofandy's baby girl, felt like a metaphor for the murderous sickness of Gilead's culture.

Racism in Gilead

This is the second episode in a row that featured the horrible death of a black woman. It's also the first time race was so much as mentioned. During that fascinating scene with the Aunts and the sherry and the files on the lazy susan, Aunt Lydia said that one of the Commanders didn't want a Handmaid of color. Racial prejudice exists in Gilead, but it is kept on the down low. Under the table, pun intended.

Critics of this show talk a lot about intersectionality, how jarring it is that Gilead is all about the misogyny while racial issues don't seem to exist, and really, I totally get that. It's a major change from Atwood's book. In reality, a fascist, misogynistic society like Gilead would almost certainly be deeply racist as well. I initially thought I understood why the producers made this decision. They wanted the focus of this fictional dystopia to be the oppression of women, period. There is also the practical consideration that if they had adhered more faithfully to the source material, the entire cast of this series would be white.

While I was thinking about what I would write about this episode, I realized that I hadn't thought through that assumption. They could have kept Gilead logically racist by having Handmaids of color while all of the Commanders and Wives were white. White slave owners in the past often raped and impregnated their black slaves, didn't they? And of course, June could have still had a black husband and daughter. I wonder why they didn't go that way? It would have made a lot more sense.

More glowing comments about the photography

As usual, the photography in this episode was spectacular. I was particularly struck by the from-above shot of Handmaids circling Ofandy with comfort and hugs, June in the snow with a red umbrella on her way to Loaves and Fishes, and the camera attached and moving with Ofmatthew's gun. The most striking was the line of red blood on white tile as Ofmatthew's body was dragged out of the store; it reminded me of the red ropes they use for hanging.

And the flashbacks were so pretty that they often looked unreal – the diffused lights on the Christmas tree, the sparkling clothing and hangings at the nightclub, the New Year's Eve glitter. I'm sure that was on purpose. The unreality, I mean.

Do they celebrate Christmas in Gilead? Has it been mentioned? It seems unlikely. But I didn't think they would have dancing, either.

Bits:

— The name of Hannah's Martha wasn't mentioned in the previous episode, but here, the very first scene started with June talking about Frances, and what an ordinary life she led before Gilead. Much like Lydia.

— Janine was kindness itself toward Ofmatthew, and when Ofmatthew lost it in Loaves and Fishes, she beat the crap out of Janine. It would have made more sense if Ofmatthew had attacked June, instead.

— During the birth scenes and the testifying, the Handmaids were acting a little like a bitchy high school clique. "Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby! Crybaby!" actually made me laugh.

— June told Joseph Lawrence that he wasn't protecting Eleanor, he was suffocating her. Lawrence didn't take the bait. I'm starting to think the Lawrences are in danger. Gilead turns on its own on a regular basis. No one is safe.

— The Lydia/Ryan twenty questions scene that opened the flashback began with Ryan asking, "Am I alive?" I wonder. Is he?

— Gold acting stars for Ashleigh LaThrop, who played Ofmatthew. I wish we'd known her character's real name. Maybe we'll find out what it was at the beginning of the next episode.

Quotes:

Aunt Lydia: "Tell your friends to cool it." June: "I'm sorry, Aunt Lydia. I don't know what you're talking about. You want to take my tongue out? Burn my arm? Better hope they don't need me on TV again for Nichole."

June: "How did that rhyme go? The one we'd jump rope to? Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief. A game to tell what our children would grow up to be. The list is a lot shorter now, especially if it's a girl. Martha, Jezebel, Handmaid, Wife." What about "Aunt"?

Noelle: "You're a fucking coldhearted bitch!" Lydia: "I forgive you."

Aunt Lydia: "Sometimes it's the apple, and sometimes it's the barrel." Aunt Lydia has decided it's the barrel this time. She wants to transfer June to another household. Uh oh.

June: "I hurt her. and I enjoyed it. The wives and aunts, too, grieving over Ofandy's dead child. And Lawrence. They all deserve to suffer. It's an acquired taste, seeing others in pain. Like that smoky scotch Luke got as a gift once. I grew to like that."

June: "I finally know how Oflgen felt, what made her put on that bomb vest. […] And I know how Emily felt, right before she stuck a knife in Lydia's back." Again, it sure sounds like June is ready to die.

This is the second episode in a row that I didn't much like. Two out of four smoky scotches.

---

Billie Doux loves good television and spends way too much time writing about it.

#The Handmaid's Tale #June Osborne #Aunt Lydia #Serena Joy Waterford #Fred Waterford #The Handmaid's Tale Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

[jade4813]

A Lie, Told Often Enough, Chapter 6

Author Notes: Inspired by @fallinginloveinaflash‘s AU prompt. All credit for the idea goes entirely to her.

Title: A Lie, Told Often Enough

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Iris just landed her dream job at a PR firm and her first assignment is reforming the bad boy image of celebrity artist Barry Allen. He’s overly cocky and well-known for being a playboy, but Iris has never met a challenge she couldn’t handle.

Chapters: 6/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“Spill,” Linda didn’t waste any time before demanding when she came over to hang out later that day. Barry had left her at the door not long before, claiming to be late to an appointment with his manager. “I want all the details about your date.” Then, after a short pause, she added, “Actually, given that picture I saw on Twitter an hour ago, I suppose I should say dates.”

Shrugging, Iris took a seat on the couch next to her and demurred, “There really isn’t much to say. They were…you know…dates.” At her friend’s skeptical look, she shrugged again and said in a defensive tone, “What? It’s not even real! I doubt you’ll find the details that interesting. What do you want me to say?”

Linda rolled her eyes. “I want all the sexy details! The romance! The butterflies! I don’t care if it’s fake. My last date was six months ago, and the guy brought his ventriloquist dummy along. Give me something! Anything!”

“Wait…a ventriloquist dummy?” She had to take a moment to ponder that. “I guess that’s a little weird, but it’s not too –”

“He asked for a booster seat so ‘Walter’ could join us at dinner.”

“Uh, well –”

“And ordered it food off the kid’s menu,” she added pointedly.

With a grimace, Iris ventured, “Okay, that’s a little –”

Linda glared, crossing her arms over her chest. “As the waitress was delivering appetizers, he told me that, when I was ready to become Walter’s step-mother, I could grow out my hair so that he could make it into a wing. That way, Walter could wear it and carry a piece of both of us. Always.”

It took several seconds for Iris to adjust to that bombshell. Finally, she asked tentatively, “Um, so what part of him did he, um –”

“I don’t know!” she practically shrieked. “I was too busy racing to the bathroom so I could climb out the window and make my escape before he went all Silence of the Lambs on me! Like any woman with half a brain! The point is, I am absolutely dying to hear the details of your glamorous date with your Grammy winning, rock god, made-it-on-the-Sexiest-Man-Alive-list-three-years-in-a-row, fake boyfriend! Throw me a bone, here!”

Iris laughed and reached for her coffee to hide her discomfort with the topic. “Last night was…nice, I guess. I mean, it was a little surreal. I’m still not sure how to date someone without actually dating someone, you know?”

“You didn’t think it would be that hard for him to do it,” Linda pointed out.

She shrugged. “I know. But he wants to be an actor, and he signed up to live his life in the public eye. I didn’t. I’m still not entirely sure how to handle it, if you want to be honest. Hopefully, I won’t have to do it that long.” There had been moments over the last couple of days that it would have been all too easy for her to forget that none of it was real. The last thing she needed was to fall in love with Barry Allen like countless women had done before, only to have her heart broken in the end. But she didn’t know how to explain that without sounding pathetic, so she kept those thoughts to herself.

“Well, that’s a bit of a shame, isn’t it? I mean, you did have fun last night at least, right?”

“Oh, sure. Who wouldn’t have fun being publicly romanced with chocolate covered strawberries, knowing that everything you do is being caught on camera and will be splashed across the front page the next day? I probably should have agreed when he asked me to dance, but I was too nervous.”

Linda pursed her lips thoughtfully. “So what’s he like? In person, I mean.”

Biting her lip, she repressed the urge to shrug again. “I’m not quite sure. I’m still trying to figure him out, if you want to be honest.” Feeling more comfortable with the prospect of discussing his personality than the details of their dates and her feelings about them, she curled her legs under her and turned towards her friend. “He’s just hard to pin down. When I first met him, he came across as arrogant and aloof. He wasn’t very good at hiding the fact he didn’t particularly want to work with me. And getting him to do anything I asked was like pulling teeth, at first. I had to actually fly out to one of his concerts and practically physically force him to take a scarf onstage when I was trying to lay the groundwork that he was dating Patty.”

“But he finally did it, right? So I guess he can’t be completely impossible to work with.”

Iris rolled her eyes, but she begrudgingly admitted, “Sort of. I guess. I mean, he did end up taking mine onstage because the one I brought looked too new. But I guess he did end up doing it. And he listened to me a little too much last night, given that I wouldn’t be in this position if he’d just blown off my directions for one more evening.” At her friend’s confused expression, she explained, “I got mad at him when he was caught on camera acting like Patty was the most boring person in the world, so I told him to be more attentive to his dates. If he’d only done the same to me last night, we could have played it off as a joke on his part and come up with a different supposed girlfriend for him today.” She sighed. “Fat chance of me being able to do that now, with him acting as flirtatious as he did. Though I suppose I should be grateful his behavior meant nobody linked him and Patty together romantically. That would have been a disaster.”

Linda made a soft, thoughtful hum as she threw her friend a contemplative stare. “What?” Iris asked after a moment when she didn’t speak.

“Nothing. Just…isn’t it interesting to you at all that Barry was so different with you? That he took your scarf out with him on stage? That he’s actually acting like he’s devoted to you, when he didn’t with Patty? Has it occurred to you that maybe he wants it to be real?”

Iris snorted. “Oh, please. Trust me, it’s not like that at all. Barry isn’t interested in me. We’re not even friends, really. This is a strictly professional relationship. I’m not even his type! Plus, getting him to kiss me was a bit like pulling teeth.”

“Really? The photo I saw didn’t look like he was reluctant to kiss you.”

She lifted one shoulder in a dismissive gesture. “Looks can be deceiving, and he knows how to make it look good for the camera. I know you’re desperate for a little romance, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m not interested in Barry, and he’s not interested in me.” 

Later that evening, after Linda had gone home, Iris gave her computer a thoughtful look before booting it up. She was firmly convinced she’d been telling the truth earlier. That Linda thought Barry was actually interested in her was ludicrous, given that their entire relationship existed because of a contractual agreement between them. Still, she wanted to see what people were saying about their kiss. If even Linda wanted to be fooled, it was a good sign that Iris’s plan was paying off.

It didn’t take long for her to find the picture – or people’s response to it. Iris could guess the exact moment it was taken.

Though Iris leaned in to the kiss, Barry’s embrace was brief before he pulled back slightly. The touch of his hands when he raised them to cup her face was a gentle caress, the pressure of his lips against hers so soft, she almost could have believed she imagined it After a moment, he broke off the kiss, though he kept his forehead pressed to hers.

“Everything okay?” she whispered, bringing her hands up to cup his elbows. She supposed she’d expected him to devour her like he had in her dream, and it was somewhat jarring to remember that, in reality, he probably wasn’t terribly interested in doing so. He was pretending to be interested in her every bit as she was pretending to be interested in him. 

“It’s fine,” he murmured. “It’s just weird, kissing someone you know is just pretending to want to be there. I mean, when both of you are just acting. I’m not sure I know how to do it yet. I don’t want to cross a line.”

She squeezed his arms gently. “You aren’t crossing a line,” she reassured him. “But I’m glad to know this is a little weird for you, too. It would probably be easier if we were friends, but we aren’t even really that. I guess we’re just going to have to make sure to be honest with each other. I mean, we’re in this together, right? It’ll probably take a little bit of time before we’re comfortable with the charade, but we’ll get there. And in the meantime, I know that a certain level of physicality is required for this relationship, so I’ll let you know if you’re getting close to any lines. Okay?”

“Sure,” he agreed, pulling away. His expression was blank, his smile strained as he turned. “Anyway, I guess we prolonged that moment long enough. I’m sure somebody got a picture of it, and that’s the point, right?”

“Uh, right,” she agreed, trying to read his mood as she hurried to keep up with him, linking her hand in his. He tensed for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. “You sure everything is okay?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed in a level voice. “Just thinking about our next move. You know, I have an interview next week. They’re probably going to want to ask me about my new fake relationship, so we should probably meet before then and get our stories straight.” From his tone, she imagined the thought bored him, but he dutifully threw her a smile as they passed by a group of joggers.

His tone was so at odds with his expression, it took her a moment to mentally catch up. “Ah, yeah. Of course. When can you meet? I can draft some sample questions so you’re all prepped and ready to go.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. Give my manager a call; he can put something on the calendar.”

Iris frowned. “I thought you said you wanted to go over our schedules today? Earlier, I mean.”

Barry ducked his head, grimacing. “Oh, right. I just noticed the time, and I realized I’m running late to another appointment. Sorry about that.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll make sure to let Harry know it’s important. We’ll find time to meet ahead of time. I promise.”

So much for Linda’s theory that Barry secretly had a thing for her, she mused as she considered the picture of their kiss. The camera caught the moment just before he pulled away, the expression on his face one of such longing that Iris thought that either Barry was a better actor than she’d given him credit for, or the moment captured was deceptive in its emotion.

She scrolled the comments.

“Oh my god, look at that! He loves her so much!”

“I’m just looking at this kiss, and I’m pretty sure it just got me pregnant. I don’t know how she’s still standing.”

“ASKJAAKAHAJKJKJKJKJLJAJ”

“Find a guy that kisses you the way Barry’s kissing his girlfriend.”

“Loooooookkkkkkk…I don’t know who she is, but I would die for these two. #Perfection”

“SHE IS SO TINY NEXT TO HIM! I’m weak!”

“I wish it were me!!! But he looks so happy with her, I really hope they get married one day.”

A couple of comments were potentially troubling in their implication:

“His kiss is hotttttt, but is she even kissing him back?”

“He looks more into her than she is into him. I hope I’m wrong! How could she not realize she’s the luckiest woman in the world that she gets to be with him?!?”

With a sigh, Iris shut down her computer and leaned back in her chair. Barry had certainly sold the fiction of their relationship. She was going to have to make sure she did the same. How she was going to do it without buying into the fiction herself was going to be the bigger problem.

“So,” Cisco said as Barry collapsed onto the couch next to him. “This thing with Iris. Want to talk about it?”

He sighed. “Not really. It’s fake. You know that. Just…trying to rehabilitate my image. It’s no big deal.”

His friend snorted. “Really? Because it seems to me like it’s a very big deal. I’ve seen you date other girls, remember? You never looked at them like you were looking at Iris when I interrupted your dance. Not to mention the look you were giving her in the pictures I saw.”

“Yeah, right. It’s acting, remember?”

“Dude, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not that good an actor,” Cisco retorted with a grin, nudging Barry’s arm playfully when his friend would have taken offense.

Barry leaned against the back of the couch, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Well, I guess I must be, because that’s what I’m doing. Anyway, you know as well as I do how impossible a real relationship would be, with as often as I’m on the road. So I guess it’s good that it’s all pretend.”

Cisco frowned, falling silent for a moment. Then, in a soft voice, he remarked, “You know, just because it’s been that way doesn’t mean it always has to be. I know you. If you found the right girl, you’d make it work.”

He shrugged, turning his head so his friend couldn’t read the expression on his face; they knew each other too well. “Maybe. But there’s no point in wondering what I’d do to be with Iris because we aren’t dating. We’re not even friends, according to her. She only kissed me because I told her people were probably watching. Once this assignment ends, she’ll probably be out of my life – and at this rate, she’s probably looking forward to it.” 

When his friend didn’t immediately respond, he glanced over at him. “You can stop looking at me like that, you know. It’s okay. It’s just a few kisses, and then we’ll both move on with our lives. It’s not like I’m in love with her or anything. I guess that means I’m a better actor than you thought.”

Cisco’s look of concern lingered for a moment, and then he grinned and the tension between them was broken. “I remember that time you tried to play a wizard and somehow caught your beard on fire in the middle of the production. Trust me; it wouldn’t take much.”

Barry’s affronted look was belied by a quick bark of laughter as he replied, “Dude, that was in the eighth grade! You’re going to have to let that go eventually!”

He laughed. “Don’t bet on it.”

#a lie told often enough #fanfiction #my fanfiction #barry allen #iris west #rock star au

[ponyponypuddingandpie]

Convince me

“Ah ain’t stayin’ Sugar, Ah can’t do this no more. Ah don’t belong here, it’s too frou-frou an’ so-phis-ti-cate-ed fer a farmer like me.”

Canterlot is a great place, and the city is beautiful and all that. The restaurants are nice, the food is great, the rooms were spotless, and for AJ, Octavia lived there, which was the only reason she’d given it even a thought. But Applejack was a pony of the open air, fields and good hard work. Getting dressed up for dinners, parties and concerts weren’t her style. And she didn’t like any of it, not a second. Well, except for Octavia’s performances, and she was sure to let the cellist know frequently how much she enjoyed her music. Things had been tense between the odd couple since Octavia had convinced her to spend some time in her home, in Canterlot.

Octavia had many, many friends. Or, so she called them. Unfortunately, these self same friends often spoke ill behind the mare’s back, and AJ heard most of it, and some of it was even concerning her. She’d gotten into trouble for starting a row with a particularly uppity pony that played piano, and a worse one with some sort of brass horn instrument player. Of course, actual physical contact was out of the question until one stallion had the stupidity to actually slap Applejack and, seconds away before retaliating herself, Octavia had done it for her, slapping the stallion so hard he’d fell and had a red welt on his cheek.

They’d been thrown out after that.

Of course, there were a few AJ did like that were a bit more city than she’d normally allow. Fancy Pants and Fleur de lis were two of them. They’d treated Applejack and Octavia with outstanding courtesy and had proven quite a challenge, even for Octavia, in a game of chess. Fleur had narrowly defeated Octavia, and Applejack (Who wasn’t a very good chess player) had been trounced by Fancy, to his great delight since he claimed he could never win against Fleur and even accused Aj of going easy on him Applejack, with not much of a head for strategy, denied the false accusation heatedly, only stopping once everypony started laughing as Fancy told her it was all just a joke. That night had been quite successful, and the pair had walked away in high spirits.

This was not one such day.

Applejack had attended a concert, of which Octavia was a part of. It had been alright, and this time she’d been backstage. Everything was going perfectly until one of the staff had tried to get her out of the offstage area, claiming she couldn’t be there. Even showing her offstage pass had done nothing, instead making him ask where she’d stolen it. Naturally, this had riled up Applejack. However, before she could meet with Octavia, she'd met another 'friend' of hers, but this one claiming she was seeing Octavia behind Aj's back and that had set her off. She’d left just as Octavia had taken her bow and left the stage. AJ was already at the train station by the time Octavia had arrived, panting and out of breath with a heavy case on her back, mane tangled from running and tail and flanks lathered with sweat.

Well, it wasn’t exactly a short distance from the auditorium to the station.

“Come now Applejack,” Octavia said breathlessly, trying to appease her, “You’re not going to let them drive you away are you?”

“This time, Ah think Ah will,” Came AJ’s stubborn reply and Octavia sighed. This was going to be a long discussion.

“Come on Jacky,” The grey cellist said softly, approaching Applejack and slinging a hoof over her back, “You’ve never let yourself be defeated before. I know you heard some of the things that my colleagues say behind my back,”

“Oh Ah heard ‘em alright,” Muttered Applejack. Octavia continued, ignoring the angry mutter.

“And I appreciate your defending me. It was sweet, and it was one of the nicest things anypony has ever done for me since I started my music career.”

She paused, letting that sink in. Her strong Canterlot socialite type accent was one of the few things Applejack put up with because she made it sound good. Most times, a ‘city’ accent would annoy Applejack, but Octavia’s voice was lilting and easily described as musical.

“But they’re just trying to drive you away Jacky,”

She removed the hoof from AJ’s back when Applejack glared at her.

"An' what about bein' told yer gone and seein' somepony else behind mah back?"

This took Octavia by surprise and she stammered, spluttering as her mind tried to comprehend this outrageous lie. Octavia and Applejack did fight, and often, but over little things. It might have gotten a bit out of hoof a time or two, but they'd always made up, and Octavia hadn't even dreamed or begun to think about cheating or leaving. It was too much... fun? Perhaps that wasn't the right word.

“They’re trying to drive you away from them, from their buildings, from Canterlot… and they’re trying to drive you away from me! I know we fight, and yes I suppose we argue a lot too, but that's what happens when ponies like us collide! We'll bicker now and then because of our differences, and then make up because of what we love about each other, that's how a relationship works! We're still working out the kinks in our little bond, so yes, we're bound to fight, but Celestia help me Applejack, if you ever accuse me of cheating again I'll... I'll... I'll take your hat and tear it in two!”

AJ took a wary step back, her eyes glancing to her hat as Octavia continued undaunted.

"I was raised as a lady, and I plan fully on being such! A lady always tells the truth, and they never stoop to something so low and so pathetic as that! If I wanted out of our relationship, you know damn well that I would have said so! I wouldn't go galivanting around with some tart or harlot like some stallions out there, I would walk up to you and say 'Applejack, it's over, leave my house!'. I'd help you pack your bags, pay for your train ticket and wave to you as you left even! But cheating!? It's unthinkable! Unethical! Unladylike, like a piece of that rubbish dubstep music that Vinyl likes so much."

AJ couldn't help but suppress laughter at that. It was no secret that Octavia loathed the music Vinyl Scratch created, and it was reciprocated one hundred percent. But they both respected each other as musicians, and Vinyl at least saw Octavia as a friend, so it was an interesting relationship between the pair.

"Do we have an understanding Applejack of Sweet. Apple. Acres?"

During some point in the speech or the run there, Octavia’s mane had fallen a little over her face, a few strands here and there. Applejack was quiet for a while before freeing one of her hooves to brush the strands from her left side up past her cheek and over her ear, then the same with the right side.

“Sugarcube, it ain’t that Ah want to leave ya here, specially not with them. They ain’t yer friends, an’ they certainly ain’t mine. But bein’ accused of stealin’ mah pass just… and then bein' told ya weren't bein' faithful did me in. Ah guess Ah just hate lyin', and I guess I think that's the worst kind of lie. It hit hard's all, and Ah guess Ah did do ya and inj... think untruly of ya for a while.”

Octavia nodded once, leaning forward a little and closing the distance made between them a little with a step, hoping Applejack would return the gesture. She did not.

“I know what you mean dear, I really do. But it’s a complex game. It’s what the elitists of Canterlot do in their spare time to keep them from being too bored. It’s a cruel and uncompromising game of taunts, threats and gossip. It’s dangerous, and trust me when I say nopony plays it better than Princess Celestia.”

Applejack chuckled at that, smiling a little.

“Well, Ah guess she’d have lots of practice. I just… I just don’t want to see them ponies bein’ cruel to ya no more. It hurts me too Tay…” She tactfully dropped the previous subject of 'cheating', her pride wounded by her marred judgement. She'd apologise to her later.

For a long while, the pair simply sat, Octavia trying to catch AJ’s eye, AJ almost catching her eye a few times but looking away before she did. Tavi knew AJ was working up the courage to turn away, to leave Octavia at the station if she had to, and she only had a few minutes to come up with something to get her to stay. Suddenly she smiled and placed a hoof upon one orange cheek.

“Jacky, do you remember when we first met? Almost what was it, three months ago? Just after the Royal wedding, yes?”

Applejack smiled and nodded, gently tapping her head against Octavia’s momentarily.

“Yeah, Ah remember. Like it was almost yesterday. Don’t think there was a more interestin’ start to a relationship in Ponyville before.”

Octavia’s smile grew and she nodded her head quickly.

“Yes! That’s true. If I remember correctly, I’d been ridiculed out of Canterlot, yes? I’d come down to Ponyville to bunk with an old… acquaintance living in Ponyville.”

“Vinyl Scratch,” AJ said, nodding, “That rings true.”

Octavia made a face and nodded sourly.

“Yes, Miss Scratch was somepony I met at school in Trottingham. She constantly pulled my mane and tail, poked me and silly things like that. But she thought me as a friend, and offered me a place to stay, so I took it. If I remember, she left me to my own devices whilst she went to visit Miss Pinkamina and I found my way to your farm. If I remember correctly, you were squashing grapes at the time.”

AJ nodded again, smiling still.

“Yeah, Ah was makin’ some grape juice. Ya didn’t approve of mah usin’ mah hooves, an’ Applebloom thought ya were stupid. I believe she said you were being stupid an’ told ya to go away, yes?”

Tavi laughed and nodded once more.

“Yes, that sounds fairly accurate. I think I had an argument with you before I left,”

AJ shook her head this time.

“No, ya argued with AB, then Ah jumped in, told Applebloom to go home and ya started on me then. Ah believe ‘hick’, ‘inbred’ and ‘savage’ came up a time or two, along with ‘filthy’ and uh.. ‘un-hy’.. ‘un-hy’..”

“Unhygienic?” Giggled Octavia with a wink. Applejack nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s right. Ah thought you were the most stuck up and annoyin’ pony Ah’d ever met, and Ah told ya so. I remember that.”

Octavia giggled again, her cheeks flushing a little.

“That’s right. Stuck up, annoying, frou-frou, silly and city pony came up multiple times. Do we count that as a first fight? Or would it have to be later, when we were actually dating?”

It was Aj’s turn to giggle this time and another smile graced her face.

“It can be if ya want it to be sugarcube, it was a interestin' fight. It was pretty funny now that ya think of it huh? Ain’t the most graceful way t’ start a relationship was it?”

Octavia nodded in agreement, a titter of laughter escaping through her nose.

“Perhaps not, but it did work did it not? Not what I expected, but you’re not like the ponies here. You’re honest, kind and most of all, you don’t play the cruel games they do.”

One of Tavi’s hooves moved from AJ’s hooves and stroked her cheek affectionately.

“I don’t want to lose you because of ponies like them being too arrogant and stuffy to accept you. I only wanted to show you the wonders of the city, like you did with the country and me.”

She smiled and tugged gently on Aj’s cheek, trying to get her a little closer, and was delighted when she did react by moving forward a little, touching her nose to Octavia’s. She still didn't looke entirely convinced though.

“I don’t expect you to leave your farm and your family, I couldn’t ask you, and I won’t ever put you in a position that makes you choose between the two.”

A pair of grey hooves draped around Aj’s neck as Octavia dropped her final, last ditch line.

“Stay with me, just one more night here, then we can go home. Home to your family, your family and mine now. Stay here with me for one more night, and share the wonders of the Canterlot night with me for just one more night, and we can leave in the morning. I promise. No more Canterlot, no more lying ‘friends’… just you, me and the beautiful countryside.”

For a long time, there was silence between the two as AJ processed the request and eventually, the farmer smiled and kissed the tip of her fillyfriend’s nose. No more city, no more lies, no more backstabbing, pathetic ponies looking for any reason to spoil the relationship they have together except Applebloom occasionally trying to get her sister back all to herself, no more insults or teasing except from Rarity that she'd ended up with some Canterlot high born. Just her, Octavia, the farm and the wide, beautiful countryside. In exchange for one night.

“Ah think I can do one more night with ya in the city Sug’, so long as you show me these wonders yer talkin’ about~”

Octavia smiled happily and returned the kiss enthusiastically.

“Well, we can start with dinner at home, a glass of wine for me and cider for you~”

AJ nodded her approval.

“Sounds good so far sugarcube~”

“And follow that with a film, your pick of anything I have.”

“Anything?”

“Anything~” Tavi reassured the country mare, nuzzling her nose gently, although she felt she might regret that offer at some point, “Then afterwards some dessert. Fresh Strawberries with cream and icing sugar followed by some hot chocolate in the later hours of the night…”

Octavia’s hooves slid down AJ’s back before separating and slipping their way down her sides to her flanks.

“And then we kiss, and the bed beckons us to a night of blissful and loving embraces that we can indulge in. Embraces that only we share, and that the city and all her occupants would be jealous of,” the grey mare crooned, pulling Applejack a little closer to her by way of her flanks.

“How does that sound my love?”

Applejack’s cheeks were flaming red, and her eyes half closed, struggling not to interrupt her musical lover in her explanation, trying very, very hard not to press her lips to the oh-so tantalisingly sweet lips of Octavia’s. Octavia noticed this and her smile was devious as she teased the orange pony.

“Will you stay one last night in the Royal city with me, oblivious to the world?”

It’s all Applejack can do to nod, finally agreeing to Octavia’s request. The musician smiled and finally acquiesced and gave Applejack what she wanted, kissing her lightly and nuzzling her cheek.

“Excellent! Then what are we waiting for darling? Dinner at my place~”

Tavi giggled and pulled at AJ, encouraging her to move. But before she could pull the much stronger mare along, Aj pulled off her hat, the old stetson scuffed and nicked here and there from age and wear, and instead pulled Octavia closer. In a rare show of affection and trust, Aj settled the hat over Octavia's head and smiled as the grey earth mare blushed. Guided by Tavi, Applejack followed her into the ancient and royal city of Canterlot, watched by the clerk at the ticket booth, who sighed.

“Why does nothing like that ever happen to me?” He asked wistfully, watching the pair leave the platform.

#08/12/2014 #Written for a contest #FIve years ago #TaviJack #strange or rare ships