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solomons-finest-rum · 1 year

Note

Hello to one of my favourite Alfie fic writers! Since you're taking requests, I'd like to make one as well.

I don't know how it works but how about a scenario/imagine where Tommy gets in some kind of trouble (as always) and Alfie suggests that his lovely gangster wife could help and goes to introduce them but as it turns out it's none other than the Shelby's sister/cousin/relative/friend/or maybe even an ex? (Your call one this one) who they thought was dead or something?

Idk if it's even worth your time and effort but I just wanted to make a request ;) No pressure, of course!

Love you and your writing a lot!

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 1

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to @zablife for being the most gracious beta!💗💗💗💗💗 and thank you Anon for this request, because actually it inspired a full-blown multi-chapter idea! So this is set around... Season 5 I suppose? But I'm going to ignore everything in it and Season 6 too. Let's pretend none of it happened and just focus on the fun part! That is driving Tommy insane and making Alfie say outrageous lines.

WORD COUNT — 2,286

Masterlist

In retrospect, Tommy Shelby felt he should have known better. He should have fucking known that the moment, the moment, he came to Margate to sort the bloody situation out, exactly two things would happen.

One, he would have to sit and listen with a straight face to Alfie’s inspired monologue, the subject of which had swerved from elephants to bank robbery in about two and a half minutes, and then managed to touch upon just about everything else under the sun.

Tommy remained quite sure that the sense of Alfie’s rambling had been long lost to history and the point of it all was just to talk him to death, really. Put him out of his misery with nonsense alone.

“Now then, Tommy, as I said, right, I ain’t the vindictive type, I really ain’t, so I am gonna help ya out just this once, right, outta the goodness of my own heart.”

Tommy managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

“‘Cause I am a changed man these days, Tommy, an’ it can be that the old man that I am, I’m goin’ soft on ya, right, an’ so tradition dictates, mate, to ask for more than ten thousand for my troubles.”

Tommy raised a brow.

“But as things currently stand with the medical bills, on the account of bein’ shot in the face by some cunt, right… Fifteen would sound proper fair, mate.”

Thank fuck for small mercies, Tommy thought, then lit another cigarette and promptly got up to leave. Alfie apparently managed to settle both sides of the conversation, negotiations included, and their American problem could very well sort itself out all on his own—thus proving to Tommy once more that the only thing he could really count on in this world had always been lunatics.

“Right, the fuck you’re doin’ now, sit down!”

Tommy frowned and remained standing, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sheer outrage emanating from his entire person. The question of “what in fuck’s name do you want now, you crazy bastard?” overtook his face.

“Right, I need to make a bloody phone call,” Alfie said then, which explained exactly nothing.

Yes, that was the second thing Tommy had been so sure would happen. Alfie would first go on a tangent, then formulate a plan that involved three separate layers of deception, a bribe, and a crate of dynamite (probably).

Then Tommy would get caught in the middle as bloody always and Polly would have his head for going along with Alfie’s plan in the first place.

What he didn’t expect was for Alfie to change his tone of voice completely as soon as the person picked up on the other end:

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Come to the house, alright? Right, ‘cause I need ya here for somethin’. No, not like the— Bloody hell, woman, just don’t fuckin’ argue with me for once, alright?”

Sometimes a rare occasion would present itself for Tommy Shelby to become fucking speechless. Truth be told, he remained rather surprised that two such occasions had also involved Alfie Solomons, undoubtedly purely for the Devil’s bloody amusement.

“Who was that then, Alfie?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Tommy had a sneaky feeling there wasn’t a clever enough question in existence that could have pushed Alfie to say anything more. He looked smug as hell for having pulled that stunt off so Tommy was willing to see it through.

For old time’s sake.

The sun was setting and they had another drink, then Tommy let Alfie go on another tangent about… Tea import. Perhaps. Who knew, he wasn’t really listening.

On drink three Tommy was alerted by a car pulling up to the house, followed by a door slam and a rhythmic clacking of high heels on the porch. Tommy looked to Alfie, but the man remained infuriatingly calm.

Just as Tommy was about to reach for his gun, the door to Alfie’s study opened unceremoniously and a scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room. Tommy turned around and tried his best to keep up the indifferent facade, but failed miserably. Nothing could have prepared him for you walking through that door, with a giant bodyguard no less, following you like a second shadow.

“Alright there, Billy?” Alfie greeted the bodyguard casually and the man grunted in response. “Right then, might ya wait in the car for us, mate? This whole bloody business will take a minute.”

Tommy then watched as Alfie approached you and planted an affectionate kiss to your cheek, at which point Tommy stood up abruptly.

For a moment he just stood there and stared; a state he didn’t find himself in too often these days.

“Darling, are we having guests?” you asked Alfie in a tone so familiar to Tommy; so like your mother. Pleasant, on the verge of sarcastic.

By God, either that Camden bastard was a magician or you had a twin sister that Polly never mentioned. Because it wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be you. Not according to the file he stole from the parish. By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

“Right then, Tommy, might I present my lovely wife,” Alfie said. “Sweetie, this here is Tommy Shelby, right, all the way from the ungodly place they call Birmingham—”

“Tommy Shelby?” you interrupted and looked at Tommy with a smile so like Polly’s that Tommy nearly lost his composure again. “My, my… And there you went and promised you were done with the life, Alfie.”

“Right, an’ how could that—”

“Anna,” Tommy interrupted what he was sure was a budding monologue from Alfie.

“Yes?” you asked. “You know my name?”

“I… Know your mother.”

“Know?” There it was again. That curious smirk of yours that could really mean anything. Tommy found it harder and harder to keep up the charade.

“But that’s not possible, Mr. Shelby.”

“What’s not possible?”

Your tone remained polite, but your dark eyes said it all. The expression of quiet resolve Tommy thought only one person capable of delivering with such resentment.

“I’m an orphan, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy said nothing to that, because what in hell could he even say? All of a sudden the American issue faded into nothingness, replaced solely by the phantom standing before him.

“So you did not lie, I see,” you turned to your husband with a quizzical expression, seeing as Tommy went quiet again. “He really is as strange as the papers make him. No matter, though, Mr. Shelby, I hope you like chicken? My husband insists I’m a terrible cook, but you must stay for dinner.”

Tommy nodded mechanically and put out his cigarette just to busy his hands with something. When he looked at Alfie, though, Tommy noticed how the man’s mouth twitched, clearly indicating the scheme was playing exactly how he wanted it to. Mad bastard, Tommy thought. There was no saying if he was being played or tricked or helped. Probably all at once, but solely for Alfie’s benefit of course.

“Right, curious as I am, luv, what delectable fuckin’ option you maimed and butchered for dinner, Tommy isn’t stayin’—” Alfie then stopped himself when two sets of identical Shelby scowls got directed his way.

Tommy did stay for dinner and made sure to clean his plate, too. He didn’t mind the food at all; it reminded him of Polly’s simple cooking back in the day when she would take care of Tommy and his siblings in Small Heath.

The more he listened to you talk and bicker with Alfie, the more of your mother he saw in you and the angrier he got at seeing you here of all places, as Alfie’s wife, unable to speak to you in plain terms. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure which made him angrier, though—the fact that you were Alfie’s wife or the fact that the sly bastard had kept you from your true family for who knows how many years. How did he even find you?

All the questions he had were still swirling around in Tommy’s head and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else, besides staring daggers at Alfie. He was hoping there would be a moment to talk to you alone, but of course your husband would never allow it. He watched Tommy like a hawk the entire evening, sometimes with just a hint of a smile to suggest he was still three steps ahead of everyone else.

“See you never got accustomed to that fancy cookin’ they’re offerin’ ya at the mansion these days, Tommy,” Alfie said, undoubtedly truly enjoying the charade. “Tommy’s an MP, darlin’, right about two steps from gettin’ a knighthood I reckon. Yeah, a real prince he is.”

The way Alfie said the word was so clearly a jab at Tommy’s ancestry that he didn’t even flinch. What he was curious about was your reaction, but you remained perfectly pleasant:

“Don’t tease, love, we haven’t had guests in ages and I’m not letting you drive this one away.”

When the maid took away the plates, you lit a cigarette in a swift overdone gesture and Tommy was once more taken aback with your resemblance to Polly.

“Well, I’ll leave ya both to it,” you announced as you got up. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Shelby.” You extended your hand and Tommy shook it. “I know you tried your best with the chicken and I appreciate it,” you paused and tilted your head to the side as if sizing Tommy up.

“I rarely trust your husband’s judgement,” he replied.

The way you smiled reminded Tommy of a cat that got into the pantry. He decided not to think about it too much.

“I see. Goodnight then, Mr. Shelby.”

As soon as Tommy heard you got upstairs, he turned to Alfie who, unsurprisingly, already had a gun pointed at him. It was a casual way of it that was the most infuriating—Alfie’s hand was more so resting on the table and the gun just happened to be there, pointing at Tommy.

“Now then, Tommy, let’s be reasonable about this, mate.”

Tommy clenched his jaw and remained silent, but his murderous glare said it all.

“There are four people at the house, right, includin’ you, me, my wife, then the maid… Then there’s Billy outside, right, who’s gonna be rightly worried once he doesn’t get my dismissal for the night. So I want ya to be real cold an’ calculated about it, Tommy, just like I know ya can be, ‘cause if ya decide to off me for no reason now…”

“No reason.”

“Right.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Yeah an’ fortunately I’m not, ‘cause that’d be right fuckin’ awkward at the temple, mate.”

“Temple?”

“What’d ya think, Tommy, that I smacked her over the head and dragged her into my cave?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, we’ll have to show ya the pictures then, she looked stunnin’.” Alfie leaned back in his chair. “Tell ya what, mate, why don’t ya come by for tea one day?”

“Tea.”

“Yeah. We have it, Tommy, we’re not animals.”

Tommy said nothing to that. He was still reviewing his options, but as he wasn’t a fan of spontaneous action, the patient approach seemed appropriate. The offer, though, just like everything else about the situation, was fucking infuriating.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you, Alfie.”

That finally made Alfie smile and for some reason he lowered the gun.

“Right, so seein’ as we’re family, Tommy, and what a happy coincidence this is, I must say, I feel like we should talk fuckin’ proper. None of that shit.” Alfie then gestured between them as if he hadn’t been responsible for “that shit” in the first place.

“We’ve been talking, Alfie,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yeah, but then there’s still somethin’ ya haven’t told me about your American troubles, isn’t there, mate, so I’m expectin’ you’ll be more honest with me in the future. Now that I’ve brought the right arguments to the table…”

The hint of a threat in that statement almost made Tommy wish he still had his razor cap around.

“She’s Polly’s only daughter, Alfie.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.”

Tommy nodded, feigning understanding between them. As always, handling Alfie very much resembled handling a live grenade without a pin.

“This can’t be the way to end things.”

“Who’s endin’ things, Tommy?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m going to let this one slide, Tommy, ‘cause you just got a lot to process, mate, so I’m prepared to be understandin’.”

Tommy shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, at which Alfie uncocked the gun. Tommy slowly pulled out his cigarette box, but Alfie never even flinched. It was gruesomely reassuring to still have been right, even in the position that Tommy currently found himself in.

Alfie Solomons would always remain Alfie Solomons, even with the whole song and a dance about getting old and senile. He was still the same mad bastard Tommy came to know all those years ago, and as things stood, Tommy found himself wondering if this time he shouldn’t try poison instead of a bullet.

“Tommy,” Alfie sighed, “with three good eyes workin’ between us, mate, I really would greatly mind if I somehow acquired a fuckin’ tumour in my lungs, too.”

Tommy said nothing and he knew Alfie hated it.

“Which means put that shit out, mate, and listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I got a feeling you’ll really wanna hear it.”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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ukiyokki · 3 years

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mars reads too much dreamnotfound fanfiction for their own good

a dreamnotfound fanfic recommendation list by your resident dumbass (me)

this took way to fucking long... i’m tired

below is a (very extensive) list dedicated to all my favorite dnf fics, ranging from quick one shots to 100k+ word monstrosities that devour the storage on my computer, forever incomplete masterpieces to ongoing works of art, you get the idea. i provided links for each fic/series for your reading pleasure. there will be no smutty/nsfw fics on this list, that’s just not my vibe lmao. this list goes in no particular order, and i’ll update it from time to time when i feel like it. now, without further ado, let us begin.

Heat Waves (complete) by tbhyourelame

(wtf else did you expect, looking at a dnf rec list?) amazingly well written, and while it’s not my favorite dnf fic it’s damn near close. in the midst of a brutal heatwave, a suffering dream comes to terms with the fact that he is desperately in love with his best friend. everything i could say about this fic has already been said by nearly everyone who’s read it, so if you haven’t yet caved into the hype, just go for it. you won’t be disappointed.

Gonna be around (completed) by georgescatcafe

(mc irl) my favorite dnf oneshot to date. just read it, i don’t wanna spoil for you :)

Inferno in the Sky (ongoing)by zairielon

(star wars au) an ongoing star wars au currently clocking in at almost 200k words. need I say more? everything about it absolutely slaps, each chapter is amazingly written, and it’s just good. also, can we just appreciate dream and tubbos dynamic in here? 10/10, amazing, must protecc. oh right, a summary: george, an exiled padawan turned engineer, must return to the jedi temple after attacks on it from an unknown assailant threaten the safety of himself and the other jedi.

Like Magic (ongoing) by KangarooKen, NotGra55 (Gra55)

(harry potter au) the unofficial official dnf harry potter au. we watch the young unlikely wizard pair grow up together throughout their years at hogwarts as they battle good old fashioned wizard racism. beautifully written, incredibly fun and suspenseful, and just an overall blast and a half.

GeorgeNotFound, Son of Poseidon, and the League of Minor Gods (ongoing) by Clichewho_69, Cygnvs, Trash_Kinggg

(percy jackson au) percy jackson au? check. “road trip” (technically quest but u get what i mean)? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. this fic follows the plot of the lightning theif (albeit loosely), but everything is explained enough where you don’t have to read percy jackson to understand what’s going on. basically after moving to the usa, george gets taken to camp halfblood where he learns that a) gods exist. b) he’s the son of poseidon and c) he needs to prove that he didn’t steal zeus’s master bolt.

Protected (completed) by aenqua

(royalty/camelot au) my favorite piece of dnf media of all time. dubbed the official dnf camelot au, where dream is the heir to the throne and george is a servants son with a secret that couldp get him killed. these childhood friends grow up together and learn trust, love, and acceptance. (that summary did not justice to the masterpiece that is this fic) here’s the directors cut

The Hunter (completed) by HederEgo

(mc irl) a choose your own adventure fic with 13 different endings, where dream the hunter must kill george and stop him from beater the ender dragon. enough said.

The official dream team cowboy AU (series)(ongoing) by antsu_in_my_pantsu

(cowboy au) cowboys and outlaws horses and shit. and the big gay. it’s a cowboy au, what else did you expect? fucking yee haw (all seriousness this is a great read, i loved it so so so so much and i can’t wait for the final chapter to release).

This is a Drista moment, let's just accept it (completed) by Qekyo

dnf fic from drista pov. considering its unique perspective, it’s perfectly done. beautifully showcases a sibling relationship through drista and her memories/moments with dream, and it just works, y’a know? also drista supremacy.

Dear Dream (completed) by Qekyo

(wwii au) i don’t cry when watching/reading anything sad. translation: i’m a heartless bitch. however, this fic is the only exception. it caused me to cry so hard my mom walked in my room and asked if i was ok. ‘nuff said.

TECHNOlogical Wingman (completed) by Closeted_Bookworm

techno is the autocorrect ai on dreams phone, and he gains sentience. interesting concept, and the author fucking nailed it. great fic.

It Was Only a Fic (ongoing) by imagineitdear

dream starts reading a dnf fanfic (we’ve all been there buddy).

Teacher’s Pet (ongoing) by niyuha

(teacher au) in which dream is a high school english teacher and george is the new comp sci teacher in room 297.

Saltwater Secrets (ongoing) by earlgay_milktea

(mermaid/high school au) a great example of the shear amount of variety in fics this fandom has to offer. when i started reading dnf fics i would have never thought i’d find one about a mermaid george hopelessly crushing on his human friend, who happens to be his schools star swimmer. yet here i am, and i am far from disappointed.

Smash My Heart (incomplete) by dontrollthedice

george and sapnap are commentators for duper smash brothers tournaments, and george develops a crush on an up and coming smash streamer named dream.

roleplaying in the dark is harder than it seems (completed) by Alienu

laser tag. 10/10

solar system (completed) by quartzfia

(mc irl) george vists dream in pandora’s vault.

Ramblings of a Lunatic (completed) by jungkooksfic

ahh communicating through a notebook left on a shelf in a bookstore- what a perfect way to start a relationship.

Paint me like your French Girls (It's Charcoal, Actually) (completed) by Turtle_ier

(artist au) george is an art student, and dream is a model.

00:00:00 (completed) by isleofdreams

(soulmate au) 00:00:00 is the moment you meet your soulmate, as indicated but the clock ticking down on your wrist until the moment you meet. i’m not a fan of soulmate aus; this fic is the exception.

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me (completed) by kivy

(artist au) i don’t usually cry while reading stuff, but this brought me damn near close. george is a painting conservator and chats it is with the ghost of the artist if the painting he is working on. they fall in a love.

Current Location (incomplete) by hendollana

(influencer au) george simps for a hot american instagram model. who knew he’d actually follow back?

The Withering (series) (series ongoing, 1 work completed) by App1e_Juice

(mc irl) lore and world building and fight scenes and everything i crave. what’s not to love? something starts making the plants and crops around dreams village wither, and must team up with new friends to find the cause of the mysterious disease plaguing the land.

Minecraft, But You Can't Leave (complete) by facadecake

(mc irl) dream and george are sucked into their own private minecraft world together and must beat the game to escape.

Free The Game, Beat the End (incomplete) by goatgoatwasfound

(mc irl) a glitch in minecraft causes thousands of players from around the world to be trapped inside minecraft, with only one way of escape- beating the ender dragon. first dnf fic i ever read, and it’s still 10/10 for me.

Why don't you come a little closer? (completed) by lifeofandoms

george gets stood up by a date, and Dream pretends he’s the date to save george from the embarrassment. simply adorable.

lightning bug (completed) by saintachesP

(band au) while on tour, dream realizes his feeling for george.

Hold me closer (completed) by Treesofmyheart

(mc irl/dsmp) i just,, really like this trope.

Dizzy on caffeine (completed) by GleamingGreenGoggles

(coffee shop au) best dnf coffeeshop au i’ve read. periodt.

living a life of crime isn’t always easy (series) (completed) by itisjosh

(mafia/assassin au) stockholm syndrome except it’s not weird.

Inhibitions Make Interesting Situations (completed) by Ship_On_The_Sea

i pissed myself laughing. it’s just a dream and george being hilariously dense, flustered idiots. serotonin central.

thy eternal summer shall not fade (completed) by gracequills

(high school au) that moment when you recite shakespeare to your crush in your ap lit class instead of confessing (hate it when that happens).

All is Fair in love and Football (ongoing) by graciegirl2001

(college au) #1 favorite college au. in which george is a cheerleader, and dream is the football teams rising star player. this one gets extra points because of the amazing karlnap moments sprinkled throughout. *chefs kisses air*

online love (completed) by andbutso

(high school au) online classes go zoooooooom

Can’t help falling (completed) by isleofdreams

dream re-learns the guitar to sing to george on his birthday. beautiful. fluffy. amazing

dance in the rain and my arms (completed) by lazy_kitkat

george is a rain god, and dream is a wind god

Weather Boy (completed) by DaintyDiizzle

wouldn't you like to know, weather boy? (where dream can control the rain)

The color orange (completed) by anon

(mc irl) dream describes the colors of a sunset

Family Mode (completed)by Strawberry_flavoured_tears

they’re dads :,)

Breathing Room (incomplete) by papercranes

(band an) an amazing band au. the mad lad author wrote original songs for each chapter. above and beyond, mad props :). unfortunately, it’s incomplete

Piece of Clay (completed) by carbonbrine

(artist au) george is a sculptor and his sculpture comes to life- but oh no he’s hot.

Try (completed) by Not4typicalwriter

(royalty au) george must choose a suitor, but none of them are up to dream, his head knights, standards. or dream is hella jelly. also protective dream is perfect

When the Roses Bloom (completed) by HederEgo

(royalty au) close second for my favorite fic. go to royalty au for a quick serotonin bost. it’s all fluff and flowers and crushes, and i love it. criminally underrated.

Heavenstruck (ongoing) by dontrollthedice

george is dreams guardian angel, and dream want to find out more about him and his past life. bittersweet :,)

Bang and Burn (completed) by App1e_Juice

(spy au) george accidentally falls for target number 1 on sapnap’s secret agency’s hit list. this ones great, i love me a spy au :)

Can I get a uhh… (completed) by lemonskies

dream keeps pulling up to the drive through mcdonald’s that george works at drunk.

Pretty Stranger (completed) by anon

when looking for dream in the terminal, george sees a cute guy and decides to flirt.

Take my Hand (completed) by latinbias

(royalty au) another royalty au? poggers. surprise twists? double poggers. love this a lot.

seconds, minutes, hours, lifetimes (complete) by meridies

ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP *inhales to compose herself* roadtrip au. unrequited love, ignored feelings, longing, pining, you know the drill. absolutely love this one, its the best roadtrip au i have ever read, in any fandom. (maybe cause i identify with it a little too much, but thats not important. whats important is that you read this fic. right now. im waiting).

Message redacted (complete) by justyouraverageloser

(text fic) dream asks for a girls number and realises hes been given the wrong number. however, an unexpected relationship starts to form between him and the stranger on the other end of the line.

the waves (completed) by anon

(mc irl) this fic was written by the same anon who wrote the color orange, which is up there on my fav dnf oneshot list. dream and george know they have a higher purpose. they don’t know where they came from, or why they are seemingly the only humans in the world, or how they feel about eachother, or even where the skeletons come from, but they are sure of one thing: they have to beat a dragon.

The Dream Doll (completed) by PeppDream (Pep_Pizza)

(voodoo i guess) i’m a real big fan of fics with really out there or unique concepts, so naturally this one makes the cut! i really liked it, it’s really sweet and made me think a lot about what matters to me in the world. george finds a strange doll in an antique shop, and would really like to just stuff it in a drawer and forget about it. sadly (?), the doll has other plans.

last updated February 6th, 2021

#dnf #dreamnotfound #dream not found #dreamnotfound fic #dreamnotfound fanfic #dreamnotfound fanfiction #dnf fic #dnf fanfic #dnf fanfiction #dnf fic rec #dreamnotfound fanfiction recommendations #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #i’m ok i swear #i read too much fanfiction #i should probably go to bed

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burberryharold · 3 years

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hey, lovies! i’ve been so excited to post this fic because i am in love with Harry and Jules and i hope you will be too (and excuse the lousy banner i just wanted to have something lol)! this is a part of @1dffchallenges’s valentine’s day challenge, so i hope you enjoy reading it and happy valentine’s day, it’s all about spreading love around so here is some love from me to all of you ❤️

a special thank you to @fireproofrry @bodejacketharry @strawberryystyles for beta reading and giving feedback, you are absolute angels <3

word count: 7.7k

warnings: none!

challenge prompt and dialogue: strangers alone on valentine’s day + “I’m allergic to chocolate. And roses.”

It’s official, valentine’s day is the worst.

At least that’s what Jules thought as she adjusted herself on the bar stool, trying to get into a comfortable position while she waited for her drink to be served.

It wasn’t in Jules’ agenda to spend what was supposed to be the most romantic day of the year alone at a bar ten minutes away from her apartment. If she was still with Leon, they would have been having a nice dinner somewhere, laughing over whatever funny story one of them had to share about their day at the company.

But alas, Leon was someone else’s now and Jules was only left with her own company.

Truth be told, though, Jules never minded being alone, in fact, she enjoyed being by herself because people were simply exhausting.

But being alone and being lonely were too completely different things, and Jules hated feeling lonely.

And valentine’s day only made that worse. Seeing loved up couples around her, flashes of red and pink everywhere she glanced, hearing cheesy love songs blasting through the speakers of the shops she passed by. Everything about valentine’s day just seemed to remind her of her lonely status.

Instead of staying at her apartment all night long doing nothing but watching rom coms and feeling sorry for herself, Jules thought of a better alternative, which was to get pissed drunk. So when she got up in the morning to go to work (because even on valentine’s day duty calls), she put on her favourite black dress, one that was sleeveless and had a deep v-neckline, and put on enough makeup to feel confident in the way she looked before pulling on her coat and venturing into the cold streets of London.

If she was going to get pathetically drunk by herself at a bar after work whilst everyone else was being all lovey dovey, then she would look hot doing it.

The sound of a glass coming in contact with the wooden surface broke her out of her reverie and she glanced up, finding that the bartender had placed her drink in front of her and he was beaming at her. “There you go, love, happy valentine’s day.”

After squinting at the name tag (she’s never seen him here before, he must be new), Jules forced herself to return his smile and lifted her glass. “Cheers, Jonah.”

Poor guy must have thought she was waiting for a date or something. Too bad, no one was going to be joining Jules on this fine evening. Just me, myself, and I.

Setting her glass back on the counter after taking a big gulp, Jules scowled as she was reminded of the items she had received earlier in the day. For some reason, Leon thought it was a good idea to give her a box of chocolates and a rose, even though they were no longer together and he had another woman by his side.

She appreciated the thought behind it, he probably just wanted to be nice or maybe he felt guilty, but his gift was staring at her, almost laughing at her misery and she wasn’t having it.

That is why she instantly asked Jonah for a fork, which caused him to send her a confused look but he complied nonetheless, and she proceeded to stab the pieces of chocolate placed perfectly in the box, taking out her frustration on the sweets.

Once satisfied, she dropped the fork with a clunk and heaved out a sigh, lazily resting her chin in her right hand before looking back at Jonah. He was staring at her with wide eyes as he dried off some shot glasses, surely thinking that she was a lunatic, but Jules just flashed him a sweet smile and shifted her eyes back to the chocolates she had just assaulted.

Poor chocolate, but oh well.

“Are you alright there?”

“What the fuc-“ The sudden voice caused her to jump in her seat and she almost fell off the bar stool if it weren’t for the hand that magically materialised behind her, holding her steady.

Before she had a chance to slap the hand off her back, the stranger retracted it and returned to his seat and she had the chance to take a proper look at him.

The man stared back at her with concerned eyes, a stool separating the two of them, but he was still not that far away from her. Jules wondered when he had gotten there because she certainly didn’t feel him arrive. Perhaps it was during her chocolate rampage.

What really surprised her though, more than his sudden appearance, was the fact that she knew who he was. In fact, she believed everyone knew the man sitting beside her because it was none other than Harry Styles.

Many questions ran through Jules’ head, the most important being what on earth was a guy like him doing at this bar on valentine’s day? Jules never believed in the image the media painted of him, but surely he has something better to do than be here, all by himself it seems?

As big of a fan as she was, the fact that he was right before her didn’t faze Jules all that much, her mind was more preoccupied by other matters. So, she ended up doing what she would’ve done if it was any other person: she glared at him and wordlessly turned back in her seat, pretending as if he wasn’t there.

He didn’t seem to take the hint.

“You were quite aggressive with the chocolate there.” His deep voice floated in the empty bar as he pointed at the box in front of her.

Jules inhaled deeply before responding in a flat tone. “I’m allergic to chocolate.” Glaring at the single rose lying beside the box, she grabbed it and tossed it on the floor beneath her, silently cursing Leon once more. “And roses.”

She felt guilty for littering, but she’d pick it up when she leaves. Eventually.

“Are you really?” The man beside her questioned, leaning forward in his seat, his body completely turned towards her at this point. She could tell from her tone that he was skeptical of her supposed allergies and she honestly couldn’t blame him.

“No,” she found herself shaking her head, signalling for Jonah to get her another drink, still keeping her body facing forward and only glancing at him from her peripheral vision, “I’m just fucking with you.”

To her surprise, he let out a small laugh, not seeming to be upset. Jules couldn’t help but turn her head a bit to look at him, finding a dimpled smile on his and she wondered what was wrong with this guy.

“May I ask why you were stabbing the poor sweets then?”

Figuring she should just put him out of his misery and answer his question, Jules huffed and crossed her legs, not missing the way his gaze flickered down for a split second before returning to her face. She ignored it and sighed, “Well if you must know, my ex gave them to me this morning.”

“Trying to get you to take him back?”

“Oh god no,” Jules laughed at the notion, her hand waving off his wrong assumption, “he’s as happy as can be with his new girlfriend.”

The blatant confusion on his face prompted her to provide more explanation.

“We broke up a couple of months ago, he left me for someone else. So he probably just felt guilty.”

“He left you for someone else? And before the holidays?” When she nodded in confirmation, he shook his head with a frown. “Bastard.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Valentine’s day just sucks, it’s just a reminder of how lonely you are,” she muttered with bitterness, “Of how lonely I am.”

“Well if it’s any consolation,” Harry said, pausing to ask the bartender for another drink, “I’m lonely tonight too.”

“Well, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t be here getting drunk on your own.” With a few drinks already in her system, Jules practically had no filter whatsoever (not that she really had one in the first place).

“Touché,” he clicked his tongue, then leaned back to chug down the rest of his glass. Jules was almost concerned by how quickly he downed his drink, but she’s not in a position to talk, after all, she’d been doing the same. “But I’m not getting drunk on my own now, am I? You’re right here.”

She scoffed, eyebrows raising at his words. “Who said I’m keeping you company? Or that I’m not leaving any second now?”

“I don’t think you are.” He responded with much conviction that it almost threw Jules off.

“You think too confidently about a stranger you just met.”

“Let’s fix the strangers part then, shall we? I’m Harry.” He extended his ring-clad hand and Jules noticed a coat of red nail polish on his fingers. How ironic.

She sighed before deciding to entertain him, grabbing a firm hold of his surprisingly warm hand. Maybe she’ll allow him to keep her company tonight. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave her alone anyway.

“Jules.” She simply responded before turning back to her drink, swirling the pink straw around. She made a mental note to thank Jonah later for the cute straw.

“Jules” Harry repeated, as if testing the name on his lips and Jules would be lying if she said that she didn’t like the way it rolled off his tongue. “Is that a nickname for Julie? Julia? Short for Juliann-“

“Juliet. It’s Juliet.” She interrupted his ridiculous ramble. He surely was inquisitive. And did she really look like a Julianne?

“Huh,” he hummed, gliding a finger over the rim of his glass, staying silent for a few seconds and Jules thought he was maybe done for the night.

She thought wrong, it seems.

“Oh, Juliet, oh, Juliet, where art thou, Juliet?” He dramatically recited, voice going deeper as he stared upwards at a spot over the bar. Simply put, Jules thought he looked ridiculous.

She could hear Jonah snickering in the background.

“It’s where art thou, Romeo, but nice try.” She rolled her eyes in response to his theatrics. Almost everyone she’s ever encountered has commented on her name and made a reference to the infamous Shakespearean tragedy that she’s never been too fond of. It’s why she mostly went by Jules.

No one’s ever recited that line though, however wrong it was. That was a first.

“I knew that,” the curly-haired man mumbled beside her, swirling his glass and watching the ice cubes swim around, “was just joking, geez, tough crowd.”

Jules couldn’t help but roll her eyes again in response. That joke got old a long time ago.

She’s beginning to regret coming to this bar tonight. Maybe she should’ve just headed straight home and cuddled into her blankets.

“It’s pretty, though,” he added a few moments later, “beautiful name for a beautiful woman”

No way. She huffed, spinning in her seat to face him once again. “That’s your line? Tell me, Mr. Rockstar, has that really worked on anyone before?”

She could tell he was a bit surprised but tried to hide it; unluckily for him, Jules was a very observant person, hardly anything passed her.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that-“

She interrupted him again and leaned in closer, resting her elbow on the countertop and raised an eyebrow. His eyes flickered for a fleeting second to the charm bracelet adorning her wrist. “So you don’t think my name’s beautiful? Or that I’m beautiful? Sheesh, Harry, you’re not looking good here.”

Harry spluttered, staring at her with eyes blown wide in panic and Jules almost felt bad for messing with him; it was just hard not to, she was lonely and he was right there annoying her with his lousy jokes, so he has the unfortunate fate of being her victim tonight (and truthfully, he brought it on himself). And if she was being honest, messing with Harry Styles was just too entertaining of an opportunity for her to pass on.

To be fair, she was a little annoyed by his presence in the beginning, having originally planned to wallow in her misery all by herself, but now she’s having fun. She might just enjoy her time with him.

“No- no of course I think you’re beautiful, y-your name too,” he responded in clear panic, seemingly trying to figure out how he can redeem himself. Jules’ attention was momentarily caught by the way his rings glimmered under the light as he flexed his fingers, still fumbling for a response. “I was just-“

“Styles,” she interrupted him, yet again, with a light-hearted laugh and shook her head, hair falling forward on her shoulders, “Relax, was just messing with you.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and he heaved out a sigh of relief; his eyes then narrowed and he lifted his hand, pointer finger wagging in her direction. “You really like messing with people, huh? Not very nice of you.”

“Made you sweat, no? Was just having fun. I can now say that I’ve made the infamous Harry Styles stumble over his words. How much do you think they’ll pay me for that hot gossip? Reckon it would be a lot.” She said as she turned back in her seat, now facing the bar once again, but she knew he caught the smirk on her face and the teasing lilt in her tone.

Coming to the bar was definitely a good decision.

Harry felt like a proper idiot.

Here he was, sitting at a pub with a lovely woman that clearly didn’t want to be bothered, yet he had to fuck things up and be a git.

And the Juliet bit? Harry had never been more embarrassed, he didn’t know what he was thinking, or if he was thinking at all. He made sure to remind himself that he wasn’t that funny and should just stop trying to be. You’re making a fucking fool of yourself.

In spite of his rather embarrassing advances, Harry found himself enjoying Jules’ company immensely, even if she had barely looked his way when he had arrived at his spot.

She might’ve looked irritated by his insistent attempts to start a conversation with her in the beginning, but from the way her body has been facing him for the past half an hour and the smile or two she’d thrown his way, Harry had a feeling she was warming up to him.

He discovered that she was an accountant, which thoroughly surprised him because she didn’t seem like one. Harry doesn’t like to judge a book by its cover, but Jules definitely didn’t scream accountant, more like a Greek goddess or something. Her black dress hugged her body in a way that almost made Harry dizzy; he had noticed her the second he walked into the nearly empty pub – and before he could even think about it, he found his legs carrying him in her direction (he was already headed to the bar anyway, or so he told himself).

Admittedly, the way she was stabbing the chocolates had him fearing for his life for a split second, but Harry brushed it off and figured she just wasn’t a fan of valentine’s day, if her apparent disdain for the sweets and the rose before her was any indication.

He was also surprised to learn that she’d moved here from America about five years ago and this pub was one she often frequented, yet Harry had never run into her somehow despite coming here a lot and living not too far himself.

He’s glad their paths have finally crossed tonight, though.

That being said, Jules was definitely keeping him on his toes. He never knew what she was going to say next, and she certainly did not hold back from saying exactly what was on her mind.

Harry found himself liking that about her, even if her forwardness came at his expense sometimes (he couldn’t say he didn’t deserve it). Oftentimes, people acted cautious around him and treated him differently just because of his status. Not Jules, though.

But now he could tell that she had something on her mind, from the way she looked at him then shifted her eyes elsewhere a second later.

“What is it?” He questioned, deciding to put her out of her fidgety state. He wasn’t sure what was holding her back, she certainly had no problem handing his ass to him earlier.

“It’s just,” she started, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, the movement catching Harry attention for a second before he reminded himself to be respectful, “what are you doing here by yourself tonight? I find it hard to believe that someone like you doesn’t have anyone to hang around on a day like this.”

Someone like him? Harry furrowed his eyebrows, not sure what she was implying with her words but he didn’t believe she meant it in a negative manner necessarily.

“That came out wrong, I didn’t mean anything like that,” she quickly defended, face becoming redder by the second and Harry was a little endeared by the sight. The woman before him was confident all throughout their conversation, having no fear in expressing her thoughts, yet now she was the flustered one. And Harry couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Time to give her a taste of her own medicine.

“What, thought someone like me had a flock of women at their beck and call and that I’d be off with one or some of them tonight?”

He gave her a blank look afterwards, pretending that he found offence in her words and he almost blew his cover at the way her face visibly fell.

“N-no!” she exclaimed, voice rising a few octaves and Harry could see the bartender, Jonah, suddenly flinch behind her from the sound. He pressed his lips together to silence the chuckle that threatened to escape and continued to stare Jules down.

“Of course I didn’t mean it like that,” she added in a much calmer tone, though Harry could detect that panic lacing her voice and he was starting to feel guilty. “I never believed that you were like that, I just,” she paused, averting her gaze away and staring at the lights above them instead, “never mind, just ignore me.”

Harry figured that she already knew of who he was and his status, and despite having just met her, the fact that she just said she doesn’t believe the rumours about him filled him with inexplicable warmth and he had to remind himself again that he’d only just met this woman. He shouldn’t feel anything of the sort towards her.

He could tell by the way her eyebrows were furrowed that she felt bad about what she’d said, so Harry called out her name and waited for her to look at him again.

When she did, her face holding an apprehensive look, he smiled at her and leaned a bit closer, which made little difference because there was still some space separating them.

“I was just messing with you, Jules,” he reached forward and flicked her nose, causing her to instinctively scrunch her face in a cute manner that had Harry’s stomach fluttering. “Doesn’t feel that nice now, does it?”

Jules chuckled in disbelief, wide eyes staring back at him and a smile was slowly stretching on her lips. “Touché. I see how it is then.”

Harry just shrugged, his own lips twitching as another smile threatened to appear. “Just having some fun, eh?”

Jules was now beaming at him and if Harry was standing, he was certain that his knees would’ve buckled at the sight. He already knew that Jules was gorgeous, and he was sure anyone would agree with him, but when as she smiled at him like that, eyes shining bright under the warm orange lights, brown hair cascading loosely yet somehow perfectly on her shoulders, there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that there was an angel sitting before him.

“Truce then?”

Her voice brought him back to earth and Harry chuckled before he shook her outstretched hand, marvelling for a moment at the way it felt enveloped in his. “Truce.”

“But to answer your question,” Harry said after a few beats of silence, glancing at her to find her eyes already set on him. “I didn’t have anything planned, haven’t been on many dates recently to be honest, so I just figured I’d come here and spend time with my good friend,” he lifted his drink with a wide grin on his face, “alcohol, the one thing that never let me down.”

Jules threw her head back in a laugh, the sound being music to Harry’s ears and he wished he could record it just to hear it again and again. “Amen to that.”

The two clinked their glasses together, laughing stupidly for no reason, before they threw their heads back to drink.

“Another round, then?”

Jonah suddenly appeared in front of them, startling Harry a bit. Sometimes he forgot that the man was lingering around behind the bar.

Jules took the liberty to respond for the both of them, exclaiming a “hell yeah, buddy!” that had the two men laughing, and soon enough their glasses were refilled.

After taking a sip, Harry leaned his head on the palm of his hand and set his eyes on Jules again, “So, are you a fan? Of me or of the band?”

He had to ask, he couldn’t help but wonder. If she was indeed a fan, she certainly didn’t show it.

Jules shrugged, playing nonchalant it seemed, but it didn’t escape him the way her cheeks seemed to redden. “Eh, I dabble. You’re alright.”

Her response made him chuckle. “Good to know.” Call him a narcissist, but he really wanted to know whether or not she liked his music. Perhaps he’ll inquire further later.

Because Harry knows that there’s no way he’s letting Jules go anytime soon.

Getting to know Harry was fun.

Sometime during the night, Harry had migrated from his seat onto the bar stool beside her, their thighs brushing against each other every now and then.

Tapping his fingers around his glass, Harry’s rings clinked against it and Jules couldn’t help but be slightly captivated by the action. She wasn’t one to stare at anyone’s hands, but she had to admit that Harry’s were fascinating to look at; his long and slender fingers, adorned by a number of his infamous rings, were truly a sight to see.

She took the chance to also admire his outfit, something she was too busy to do earlier on. His coat was long discarded on the stool beside him, which allowed her eyes to run over his figure. His upper body was covered by a plain white t-shirt with the word “Sex” displayed on his chest, a pair of pair of wide-legged black pants covering his long limbs; it was a simple fit yet it made it difficult for Jules to take her eyes off him. And his hair just looked so soft that her fingers were begging her to touch the fallen strands on his forehead.

Hearing Harry clear his throat broke her out of her trance and Jules realised from the smirk that stretched on his lips that she’d been caught in the act.

She tried playing it off, as if she hadn’t been shamelessly checking him out for the last couple of minutes and smoothed her hands down her dress, adjusting in her seat because honestly, her butt was starting to ache.

But she didn’t want to leave just yet.

Seeming to notice her discomfort, however, Harry downed the last bit of his drink before setting his glass down with a smack, causing Jonah, who was still lingering around them, to shoot Harry a warning glance and a low “careful!”, to which Harry smiled sheepishly before turning to face her again.

“Want to get out of here?”

Jules’ eyebrows shot upwards in surprise, having not expected him to want to continue spending the night with her.

“Sure there’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?” She couldn’t help but question, still struggling to grasp the fact that he still wanted to be around her. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her dress, eyes staring into his emerald ones as she waited to hear his response.

Truth be told, she was enjoying his company far much more than she had anticipated and she didn’t want to part from him just yet.

To her relief, a dimpled smile adorned Harry’s face as he took in her words before he shook his head, “Trust me, Jules, there’s no one else I’d rather be with tonight.”

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat at that.

The two got up from their seats after thanking Jonah and fighting over who’s paying because Harry insisted on paying for her drinks. As she was gathering her things, she felt Harry’s presence behind her and she realised, after looking at him over her shoulders, that he was holding her coat up for her.

Heat rushed into her cheeks at the gesture, finding it sweet that he was helping her when he didn’t really have to. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning to him with a smile after feeling him adjust her hair.

His only response was a faint “No need” and he quickly turned to shrug on his own coat, the bashful smile on his lips not going unnoticed by her.

Flashing Jonah another smile, Harry extended his arm towards her and nodded his head towards the exit. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The two stepped into the night, the biting London air hitting Jules’ cheeks immediately and she was positive her nose was already red from the cold.

Jules reached into her pocket to grab her phone, realising that she hasn’t checked the device since she walked into the bar. There weren’t any notifications that she missed, which wasn’t surprising since her friends (all four of them) were out on dates or staying at home with their partners, so she was sure no one was thinking of her at the moment.

Noticing that it was already 8 in the evening and they were aimlessly walking down the street, Jules turned to Harry with a questioning gaze. “Where are we going?”

Leaning his head down to look at her (or perhaps to be closer, Jules wasn’t sure), he paused, seeming to think, before shrugging his shoulders. “Dunno if I’m quite honest.”

Jules found herself chuckling at him. How did her day end with her walking around with no purpose with a man she’d just met?

She looked at the sign closest to them before she turned to him and did something she rarely ever did. She found herself inviting him to her apartment because they were quite close.

A smirk found its way onto Harry’s lips and she started to regret her decision. “Already trying to get me into your bed, Juliet?”

She mentally cursed at the way her heart leaped upon hearing her name roll off his tongue. Almost no one called her Juliet anymore, except for her parents when they were being serious, but she found herself wanting to hear him say her name over and over again.

Shaking her head at the thought, Jules reached her arm out and lightly slapped his shoulder. “Oh come off it, you idiot. You can just go ahead and cry alone in your mansion if you want.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender and muttered an apology, although the smile lingered on his lips and Jules tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her chest.

“Lead the way, then.”

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get us something to drink.”

The walk to her apartment was full of smiles and laughter. She’s come to the conclusion that Harry loves making people laugh, even if his jokes were actually awful, but she found it endearing; he was like a ray of sunshine bringing joy to those around him.

She was glad that she had cleaned up the place a couple of days ago, it would’ve been embarrassing to have someone over to see pyjamas and junk strewn over her furniture. Suffice to say, Jules was a bit of a mess around the house.

After hanging up her coat and Harry’s, she made her way into her kitchen and looked for the good wine she reserved for special occasions. She easily grabbed it, along with two glasses, but then Jules found herself lingering by the kitchen island.

It dawned on her that there was a man in her living room, and he wasn’t just anyone. This was Harry Styles, someone she’d long admired and holy shit was this really happening?

And as sad as it may sound, she’s never felt this connection with anyone before, never felt like the person before her got her and could keep up with her. Yet with Harry, it felt different, and that scared her because she’d only just met him a couple of hours ago.

And he was bound to forget all about her after tonight. He’s just looking for some company, and Jules didn’t think she was that special. Eventually, he’s going to leave. Just like everyone else.

Feeling like the black marble of the island was starting to swirl in her vision, Jules snapped out of her thoughts and sucked in a deep breath before moving back towards the living room.

Harry had his hands interlocked behind his back, perusing through her record collection and it made her inadvertently smile. She was proud of her vast collection of vinyl records, a good portion of them handed down to her by her father; they both had a deep appreciation for records that her mum often made fun of them for.

“Found anything you like?” He jolted at her voice, not having noticed her presence behind him, but then his shoulders immediately relaxed.

Turning towards her with a wide grin, Harry gestured to the shelf behind him. Jules liked the way he seemed to glow underneath the dim lights and she wished she could take a picture of this moment as a keepsake. “This is amazing, there are records here that I couldn’t even find.”

“You can thank my dad for that,” she told him, making herself comfortable on the couch but not breaking eye contact once, “he’s been collecting them for decades and I’m so glad he let me have some, like you should see his collection back home, it’s even more impressive.”

“Hope I’ll get to someday.”

His response caught her off-guard. Before Jules could react, Harry’s teasing voice carried through the room.

“You dabble, you said?” He smirked, turning the Fine Line record in hand to show her and also nodding to the space that held One Direction records. Jules groaned out loud and flopped against the back of the couch.

“A little yeah. Sue me.”

She blushed under his amused gaze, a little embarrassed that he’d found her collection of the band’s records and his own solo music.

“It’s okay,” he assured her, dimples adorning his cheeks, “think it’s cute that you’re a big fan.”

“Don’t know why that makes me cute but okay if you say so.” She mumbled under her breath, realising that he heard her when he chuckled.

“Mind if I put on something then?”

Jules shook her head, signalling for him to go ahead while she poured their drinks. Soon afterwards Stevie Nicks’ voice filled the silence and her lips tugged up at the choice.

The couch dipped beside her when Harry sat down, the scent of his cologne invading her senses. Jules doesn’t think anyone has ever smelled as good as him, but she chose to keep that thought to herself and instead handed him his drink.

A few moments of silence passed after he quietly thanked her, Stevie’s voice the only thing that can be heard.

“So,” he started, throwing an arm on the back of the couch, a shit-eating grin on his handsome face, “would I find any 1D posters if I went into your room?”

“Oh fuck you.” She threw one of the cushions at him, smiling at the way he threw his head back in laughter.

Jules did not mind his company at all.

“Hold on a minute,” Harry straightened up from his previously relaxed position on the couch, “you all work together and you see him and his new girlfriend every day?”

“Yup, you can imagine how fun that is.” She loved her job as an accountant, having always been fascinated with numbers, but she hated having to see him every day in the office across from hers.

It’s not like she hated him, they actually ended on good terms, all things considered. Leon wasn’t bad, he never cheated on her, but the feelings between them just died out, a flicker of something that dwindled into nothing. So, they were friendly with each other and that’s probably the reason why he brought her a box of chocolate and a rose.

But Juliet just didn’t like the daily reminder that she was in fact much lonelier than he was; it’s like rubbing salt in the wound.

“Shit, Jules, that must be hard,” he frowns, leaning forward to pat her hand, “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

“It’s not that serious,” she mumbles, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks at the simple touch and she mentally cursed herself. She had sworn off men for the unforeseeable future. “I’m over him. You know, I actually think I was never really in love with him to begin with.”

“Why’d you think that?” He questions, his thumb still softly caressing her hand; Jules wasn’t sure if he was aware of that or was absentmindedly doing it. Either way, the touch warmed her.

“I think,” she started, setting her glass of wine on the coffee table so she could sink in further into the couch, the move unintentionally bringing her body closer to Harry’s. “I think I was just happy to have someone around, someone to spend time with. I’ve spent a lot of my life alone and I think I just clung onto him because he kept me company.”

A few beats of silence passed before she continued. “That makes me sound horrible, no, it’s not like I used him, I did enjoy his company and we had a lot of fun together, but I think I was just in love with the idea of him, not him.”

Harry nodded his head, leaning back and mirroring her position, “I understand. That’s how I felt in most of my relationships actually. I longed to have someone around so I wouldn’t be lonely, but I’ve learned over the years that having company doesn’t mean that you won’t feel lonely.”

“You sounded pretty heartbroken on your last record though.” If she wasn’t as inebriated as she was, Jules would have probably had some filter and wouldn’t have said that.

Luckily, Harry chuckled in response and relaxed further into the couch, retracting his hand from hers (she instantly missed the warmth), but he didn’t seem upset. “I was. I would say that I was actually falling in love with her, so I was a bit of a mess when she left me.”

His words made her frown. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t know how anyone could leave you.” She muttered under her breath, forgetting that she was usually louder than normal after she’s had a few drinks.

“Could say the same thing about you.”

With her cheeks flushed, Jules forced herself to look him in the eye again. “You don’t even know me.”

“But I’d like to get to know you.” He almost instantly shot back, resting his chin on his hand and his dimples made an appearance, “I think you’re very interesting.”

“Pfft, me? Interesting?” She laughed, waving him off with her hand. “I am anything but.”

“That’s not true!” Harry vehemently denied, sounding almost offended at the thought, which admittedly made Jules’ heart skip a beat. Just a little.

“I’ve spent a few hours with you now and I can already confidently say that you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met,” his eyes shone bright as she stared into them and she could somehow tell he was being sincere, “and trust me, I’ve met a lot of people.”

Dramatically placing a hand over her heart, Jules flashed him her biggest smile. “Oh how special that makes me feel, I can just die happily now.”

Even though she was being melodramatic, his words did cause Jules’ heart to flutter. In the past, some people told her she was annoying, or brash, and some others would make her feel invisible and undeserving of attention.

Harry, though, was unlike anyone she had ever known. From the moment they met, Harry made her feel like the centre of his attention, never once ignored her or brushed her off, even when she was taking the piss; his emerald eyes were always set on her, giving her his undivided attention as he listened to every word that came out of her mouth.

Jules was definitely not used to that.

Harry threw his head back in laughter, a sound that Jules found to be a beautiful melody, and gazed at her with those bright eyes. “Oh you’re insufferable, I take it back.”

She gasped in feigned shock, crossing her arms with force. “No backsies.”

Another melodic laugh left Harry’s mouth and she couldn’t stop the smile forming on her lips; right then and there, Jules decided that his laugh was one of her favourite sounds.

“Backsies?” He echoed, his tone still laced with laughter, “what are you, five?”

“Shut your pretty mouth.”

“Oh so you think I have a pretty mouth?” His smirk caused his skin to flush and she cursed herself for saying those words. She really needed to think before she spoke, something her parents always reminded her of.

She recovered quickly, bringing her glass closer to her mouth. “I mean, it’s fine, your lips are a little on the thin side but-“

“Heyyy now,” he protested, pink lips forming a pout and Jules definitely thought about kissing them at that moment. “That’s not nice.”

“Never claimed I was nice now, did I?” Jules smirked, feeling a sudden surge of confidence as she took another sip from her drink.

Jules did not miss the way Harry’s eyes seemed to darken just a little, his jaw tensing as she continued to stare him down. Harry leaned forward, mouth opening to respond when suddenly a shrill tone burst their bubble.

Patting the couch cushions, Jules was trying her hardest to forget the look on Harry’s face as she searched for her phone. Stop it, Jules, he’s an international rockstar and he won’t even remember you after tonight.

She sighed in relief when her hand made contact with the device, but that quickly turned into a groan upon seeing who the caller was. Looking back at Harry, who was leaning against the armrest simply staring at her, she shot him an apologetic look before she answered the call.

“Hey, mama” she closed her eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Not that she was expecting anything to happen between her and Harry, but the mood was definitely ruined now.

“Hello, honey, how are you? Are you home yet?” Her mother’s calming voice sounded from the other side of the line, making her smile a bit despite the interruption. Ever since the breakup, her mom made sure to call her frequently to check up on her, even though Jules insisted that she didn’t have to.

“I am home, mom, yes,” she responded, shifting her gaze back to Harry who was now leaning his head against the back of the sofa with his eyes closed.

“Good, good. Just checking on you, cariña, how was your night then?”

“It was fine,” she paused for a second, not sure if she should mention meeting Harry now, but she decided it was best not to, “had a few drinks then went straight home. Think I’m gonna go to bed in a few actually.”

She could tell by the way Harry’s lips twitched that he was awake and listening.

“I won’t keep you up then,” some noise was in the background and she heard her mother whisper to someone, “okay, honey, good night! And your dad says good night too.”

“Good night, mama,” Jules smiled, finding herself suddenly missing her family that she hasn’t seen since the holiday season. “Tell dad I said good night too, and that he better spoil you today.”

Her mother’s laugh ringed loud on the other side, “We’re going to dinner tonight, cariña, and he even got me a large bouquet of my favourite roses! Joseph shh- Alright then, bye bye, sweets, love you!”

“Bye, mama, love you too.”

A few seconds passed after she ended the call before Harry spoke up, head tilted to the side. “That sounded sweet. Does she check up on you often?”

Jules hummed in response, resting her head sideways on the sofa so was mirroring his position. “Especially after the breakup. She just worries too much about me.”

“I don’t think she needs to,” he shot her a gentle smile, one that made her want to wrap her arms around him and bask in his warmth, “her daughter’s a very strong woman.”

Not finding any words to say in response, Jules continued tracing Harry’s features, lazily admiring the slope of his nose, the curve of his brows, the sharpness of his jawline; everything about the man before her was mesmerising.

Turning her gaze back to his eyes, Harry flashed her another smile before sitting up straight, the smile slowly dropping. “I should probably go now, it’s getting late.”

Jules immediately wanted to shout “no!” and ask him to stay, but the rational part of her mind told her that she shouldn’t, that she would only set herself up for heartbreak when he finally leaves her.

So the only thing she could say was a faint “Okay.”

As they stood up, it seemed like Harry was holding back from saying something, but she didn’t know if she was just reading too much into things. It was probably just her hazy mind (though she’d argue her head has never been clearer)

They silently made their way to her door, Jules feeling deflated at the prospect of his departure. Would they keep in touch? Would she just become a distant memory, a miserable woman he spent a lonely valentine’s day with?

“Can I-“ Harry abruptly stopped in his tracks, causing Jules to almost run into his back because she was trailing behind him. His demeanour was suddenly all shy when he turned to face her, cheeks flushed crimson.

Jules waited with bated breath and wide eyes for him to continue, heart beating loudly in her chest.

“Can I have your number?”

Relief washed over Jules and Harry visibly relaxed at the bashful smile on her lips. Jules didn’t know why he was so nervous, but the sight was so endearing to her.

She added her number after he handed her the device, secretly smiling at her contact name Juliet x. She already earned herself an x after her name after a few hours? Jules’ heart was beating so loudly she feared Harry would hear its calls for him.

Jules watched him put his shoes on, wishing the night wouldn’t end so soon and wondering if it would be too forward to ask him to stay longer.

Deep in her thoughts, Jules didn’t register that Harry was standing in front of her, bodies close enough that the scent of his cologne engulfed her senses once more.

“I should go now.” Harry whispered, leaning down and wrapping his arms around her and Jules had never felt so whole. She’s heard about Harry’s incredible hugs and now that she’s experiencing it, she never wanted to let go of his warmth.

Harry broke their embrace much too soon for her liking, but not before peppering a gentle kiss on the side of her head. “Good night, Juliet.”

Say something. Don’t let him leave. “Good night, H.”

And then he was gone and Jules was left on her own once more.

After staring longingly at the closed door, as if he would suddenly appear behind it, Jules sighed and made her way back to the living room, slumping against the couch cushions and wishing Harry’s arms were around her again.

Her phone dinged on the coffee table, signalling the arrival of a text. A simple “Hey. I really enjoyed tonight. H” was staring back at her.

Jules contemplated for a few seconds, heartbeats picking up their speed again, before she whispered “fuck it” and clicked on his number.

“Juliet?”

Deciding to go after what her heart wants for once, Jules didn’t hesitate to respond, “Do you want to-“

But an insistent knock interrupted her and Jules wanted to scream at the intrusion. Who on earth would be knocking at her door at this hour?

“Harry, hold on just-“

She takes frustrated strides to the door, ready to yell, but the sight behind it made her anger immediately evaporate.

“H-Harry? What are you doin-“

“What were you going to ask me?” He interrupted, sounding a little out of breath and she wondered if he ran all the way back to her apartment.

Feeling emboldened by his return, Jules took a few steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands immediately grabbing her face and pulling her closer, their lips joining together in a gentle yet eager kiss.

Jules felt her body melt in his hold. Their kiss only lasted for a few seconds before they pulled apart, still lingering so close that she could taste his wine-stained lips.

“Stay?” Jules asked, rubbing her nose against his, her heart thudding in her chest as she waited for his answer. Her words carried more weight than she had intended them to and she hoped they wouldn’t scare him off. But her worries vanished when she felt him smile widely against her lips.

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Maybe valentine’s day isn’t so bad after all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it and please come talk to me about Harry and Jules and tell me your thoughts!

#1dffvalentine #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x ofc #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic

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dameferre · 3 years

Note

can we see a snippet from the "penpals!" courferre one :0

of course! i will warn you this will. most likely never see the light of day BUT it’s based off of ‘the year of secret assignments’ by jaclyn moriarty, a... kind of ridiculous book i bought at a charity shop at like. age 10? or something

basically these three sets of teenagers are assigned pen pals at a neighboring school, and hijinks ensue, with one set of penpals giving each other secret assignments (hence the title), the other set of penpals being a girl who writes to a guy who uses a fake name (that plotline ends horribly, it would not have done so in my fic lmao)

one finally one set of penpals (a boy and a girl) decide to start having practice dates, so the guy can hone his skills and ask out a girl he likes, and the girl can critique his form, and... i mean i think we all know how this goes.

anyway, it’s half in letter format, half actual writing the story. here’s a snip! (under the cut because i. couldn’t help myself)

Official Assessment of the Second Meeting By Chance executed by The Lord of Flowers, Combeferre, henceforth referred to as the Subject, as reviewed by Courfeyrac the Ravishing, henceforth referred to as The Operative.

NOTES

When the Operative (and Guest) approached, the Subject smiled very nicely. It was a sort of surprised, warm smile that lit up his face. Did the Subject practice his ‘oh I was hoping to see you and I’m so glad I have’ smile in the mirror?

The Subject did a very good job of consoling the Guest, and as it turns out, the Subject’s height is not as offensive as previously thought, as he holds an umbrella perfectly.

The Subject was much more relaxed this time, and funny, and his hair fluffed a little in the humidity which was adorable. He had a great way of explaining things to the Operative without being patronising, and teased admirably. The Operative spent a good 80% of the walk laughing, but upon writing report can’t remember a specific instance of hilarity. The Subject should have more memorable jokes next time.

Overall, great work Combeferre. You’ll have Feuilly falling over himself to get to you in no time.

Yours,

Courfeyrac the Ravishing

Courfeyrac,

You seem to be losing your touch; that last review lacked the mildly insulting bluntness I’ve grown so accustomed to. Does this mean we’re becoming friends?

Anyway, I’m now, as you would say, ‘balls-deep in tech week’ and halfway through my descent into the deepest pit of hell. The entire production is an original script written by a friend of mine, named Jehan Prouvaire, who decided to rewrite the final scene this weekend. They’re my friend, have been for years, but even I wanted to murder them slowly. The cast is hard at work trying to learn the scene, while I had to stay late last night redoing all the cues.

The worst part of it is, the new ending is fucking fantastic, so we can’t even stay mad at them.

It’s exhausting. Literally exhausting; I got three hours of sleep last night.

Anyway, I’m writing this as a way of avoiding calculus homework. Not that I wouldn’t write to you if I didn’t have calculus homework, but it is harder to just ramble on about my life now that we’ve met in person. I don’t think I ever would have told you about Feuilly if we had met before we started writing. There was something in the anonymity that made it easier, like writing into a diary. I hope you don’t take this as an insult- what I mean to say is that now that I know you, I want you to like me. And by extension, I want you to know a lot less about exactly how lame I am.

Anyway, I wanted to say I won’t be able to make a meeting by chance this week, though I know telling you that ruins some of the fun. If I’m around next week, which is really looking less and less likely every time an actor misplaces a prop or mic pack and I am forced, once again, to weigh the pros and cons of murder, I’d be happy to accidentally run into you on my way home from school.

Side note- Avi(my brother) comes home next week, which lines up nicely with Mom’s birthday and means he’ll be able to see the show. It’ll be nice to have him back. I think you’d like him; he’s the attractive one in the family, and the extrovert. He’s also a mechanical engineer who medal-ed in track when he was my age. Basically, he got all the good genes, but he’s too nice to admit it.

Anyway, calculus beckons.

See you on the other side, Combeferre

p.s. Only you would practice a smile. Mine was genuine, I swear.

My Dearest Combeferre,

FIRST DAY OF PRACTICE STARTS TOMORROW HELL YEAH

I mean, yes, technically the other guys on my team have been practicing for two weeks but I have sadly been out of commission. BUT NOT ANYMORE BABY THE BITCH IS BACK

This will help distract me from the pain and yearning as I wait a whole week to see you again. I’ll be wistfully wandering the moors before Saturday, mark my words.

I’m also fascinated by the idea of a brother who’s you, but more attractive. Does it hurt to look at him directly? Do strangers fall in love on the spot? Is he officially considered a menace to society because he’s caused traffic accidents and ruined weddings by walking past at the wrong moment?

Someone should put a stop to him before things get out of control! No man should wield such power.

The idea that you, of gorgeous cheekbones, perfect hair, jawline, and eyes and face in general, notorious multi-tasker, valedictorian and walking encyclopedia, not to mention polyglot, could think someone else got the good genes means either you are humble to the point of actively lying to yourself or your brother is a minor deity.

Courfeyrac, I can hear you saying, flattery really isn’t necessary.

But it is! Enjolras, who I’ve mentioned before and is my best friend in the whole world, is gorgeous to the point of being inconvenient to look at. I’m a notorious flirt, I know this, and I’m good at it, but we’re not even in the same league when it comes to making people question their sexualities. He walks into a room and you can see half the people inside mentally decide they’re bi-curious. He’s also a raving lunatic and antagonistic asshole, which he openly accepts and takes pride in, but try to tell him he’s attractive and he looks at you like you’ve just suggested he’s got wings or a tail. So what I’m trying to say, I think, is that I’m used to people not realising how good looking they are. And bludgeoning them with compliments is my way of dealing with this.

Anyway. Getting sidetracked.

I’m flattered you use me as a method of procrastination! I’m gonna make myself a button that says ‘more interesting than calculus’ and wear it with pride. Also, is writing to pen pals not mandatory at the Academy? We’re given a half hour block during the study period. When we first started, Enjolras said the whole thing was “infantile and outdated and a waste of time”, but at this very moment he is on page six (6) of his latest aggressive correspondence to his mystery R, even though I saw what R sent him last time and it was, I shit you not, an envelope that was empty except for a tiny (approx. 3 centimeters long) rubber chicken. For context, the one before was a thorough analysis of wage inequality written entirely in pig latin.

I hope one day I meet this person, even if immediately afterwards they steal my kidney or turn me into a newt or whatever minor trickster gods do these days to pass the time when they’re not torturing my best friend.

Anyway, gotta go, stay sane, don’t kill anyone unless you really have to, and if so lemme know and I’ll help you get rid of the body. I know a guy.

Courfeyrac

p.s. I already like you, idiot.

#this little wip exercise is bad for me it makes me want to keep working on all of these lmao #elle writes things #elle answers your questions #anon #courferre

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musette22 · 4 years

Text

Fanfic Writers Tag Game

I was tagged by @hbalbat and @ixalit in this lovely fanfiction tag game that was devised by the clearly very brilliant @thewaythatwerust, to discuss some of the fics I’ve written over time! Thanks so much, guys! 💖

I have no idea who has already done this, but I’ll go ahead and tag @paper-storm, @luninosity, @wintersoldier1989, @bluesimplicity73, @howdoyousleep3, @wayward-lives, @trekchik and please feel totally free to ignore! <3

Which of your fics…

* Did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it got:

Hmm, maybe Body Politics? Generally speaking I think RPF AUs attract more readers than non-AU, and since everyone adores Political Daddy Chris, I figured this one could’ve done a little but better? Especially since I really like it myself (but then of course, that’s often how it goes isn’t it 😅)

* Got a better reaction than you expected:

Basically all of them! I never in a million years imagined that people would actually enjoy my writing, so every time I get a kudo on a fic I’m like “what, for real??” 🥰 But if I have to pic one, I guess From Brooklyn, With Love, since I wrote that one in one morning while at work and it did pretty well lol. Oh, and also my CAPBB fic from last year, Rare Is This Love (Keep It Covered), because I still can’t believe it did so well alongside the amazing fics from all the amazing authors who also participated in that bang.

* Is your funniest:

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet, I think. I’ve definitely gotten the most comments of people saying it cracked them up on that one! Or alternatively You lift my fucking spirits, bro, although that one is just a drabble. Still thinking of turning it into a proper fic at some point...

* Is your darkest/angstiest:

LOL none of them are particularly angsty. I’m not great with writing angst 😅 But for Stucky, it would probably be Rare Is This Love again, and for Evanstan maybe Closer? Yeah, I think so.

* Is your absolute favourite:

Ugh okay, if I *have* to answer this one, I’ll say it’s There is a Tavern in the Town, because that one allowed me to combine my love for Evanstan and Stucky and it’s not perfect, but it’s very close to my heart. Oh, and also I Really Can't Stay (Baby, It's Cold Outside) because I LOVE co-authoring with my gorgeous wife @paper-storm and I still feel all warm and fuzzy inside whenever I think about this fic 🥰

Honourable mention for Reckless Serenade, since it’s the filthiest thing I’ve ever written and I love it.

* Is your least favourite:

That’s hard, too lol. I guess maybe Café Rouge, not because I dislike the fic but because it’s Peggy/Angie and I wrote it for a femslash challenge, but I don’t really ship it? Or, I mean, I ship it, but not in the same way I ship Stucky and Evanstan, you know?

* Was the easiest to write:

I guess maybe Strawberries & Cream or Diving In The Deep End, both of which I wrote really quickly because I just had to get those little scenes I had stuck in my head down onto paper!

* Was the hardest to write:

Probably also Café Rouge, because I wasn’t as driven by my passion for the ship as I normally am! That, or Rare Is This Love (again) because I really struggled to make the deadline on that one and that was not fun 😂

* Have you re-read the most:

That would be my fist ever fic, I've done some things that I shouldn't have done (but I haven't stopped loving you once), because I was terrified it was rubbish and I kept re-reading it to see if I could improve it hahaha. Also (If Paradise Is) Half as Nice, because I think it’s hawt.

* Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time:

I did actually recommend There is a Tavern in the Town to one of my uni friends when she found out I wrote fanfiction and wanted to read some of it. In hindsight, maybe I’d recommend Maybe Baby (I'll Have You) now, because that one is non-RPF, more or less PG and kind of cute haha.

* Are you most proud of:

I think I Spy With My Little Eye, just because SO many people have told me how much they love it, and that’s kind of what you write for, isn’t it? And I don’t mean validation necessarily (although that is GREAT lol), but to give other people something they enjoy! 💗

* Has your favourite line/exchange/paragraph (share it):

Finding a favourite bit was literally impossible because all it did was remind me that I’m not all that good at writing 😂 However, I really like this scene from Closer, because I love how happy Sebastian is, and how fond Chris is, and how effortlessly these boys can laugh together, even during the most serious, heartfelt of moments. Since it’s a bit long-ish, I’ll put it under the cut!

*********

Sebastian blinks at Chris a few times, then suddenly sits up straight, grabbing Chris’s hand and prying open his fingers.

There they are. Two rings. That really happened.

His eyes snap back up to Chris’s face, wide and stunned. “You- had these made?”

Chris smiles at him indulgently. “Yes.”

“For us?”

“Yes.”

When the meaning of the gesture finally sinks in, a wave of pure, unadulterated happiness rises up in Sebastian’s chest so fast and fierce and unstoppable that it makes him feel lightheaded again – thought this time for an entirely different reason. He claps a hand over his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle the burst of laughter that escapes past his lips.

“Are you… laughing at me?” Chris asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but he mostly seems amused.

Sebastian’s eyes grow even wider. “No,” he says firmly. “Fuck, Chris, I’m sorry.” He barks out another joyful laugh, unable to stop now that he’s started. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I swear,” he hiccups, shaking his head from side to side and smiling like a lunatic. “I’m just so fuckin’ happy.”

“Oh, thank god,” Chris exclaims dramatically, slapping a hand over his heart. “So in that case, d’you think there’s any chance I could maybe get an answer at some point?” He pulls a face. “I mean, it may have escaped your notice, but I actually just made a heartfelt speech, declaring my undying love for you and asking you to be mine forever. But, you know, I can see how you could’ve missed that bit, it’s not like I poured my heart and soul into–”

Sebastian surges forward and cuts off Chris’s rambling by catching his still moving lips in a searing kiss.

#tag game #my fics #my writing

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

Text

To Give Him The World, Chpt.1

Main Characters: Thor x Ellie (original female character)

Summary: Valkyrie needs someone to remind Thor of her expectations of him living in New Asgard again and Ellie jumps at the opportunity to reconnect with her childhood friend. Thor is confused but appreciative of her presence in his cottage.

Warnings/ Content: None really in this chapter. Some self consciousness but that’s it.

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! I am so excited to share this fic with ya'll :) I started writing this back in June 2019, got about four chapters out, and honestly forgot about it in favor of other WIPs I had going at the time. I reconnected with it recently and finally have a mapped out plan for the characters so I wanted to start sharing it with you all while I finish writing it. It should be around six chapters or so and I'm going to try and post every few days, maybe every other if I get lucky. Chapters will also be posted over on my AO3 and I’ll be throwing a Master List up on here shortly to keep track of things.

Love ya'll and thank you for reading! XOXO - Ash

To Give Him The World, Chapter One

Ellie struggled under the weight of the cleaning bucket she carried up the long, winding hill to the cottage. The supplies were packed into the large blue bucket and she hoped it would be enough. She hadn’t stepped foot in the god’s cottage before but she was warned it was in desperate need of help. Valkyrie had put her foot down upon Thor’s return; if he wanted to stay, he needed to keep the place clean and scale back on the drinking. It couldn’t be like the last time. Of course Valkyrie couldn’t be the one to remind him of that herself, no she had sent a messenger. Not that Ellie minded, she had volunteered to be the one to go. The other women who worked in the office were catty and Ellie couldn’t bear the idea of someone being unnecessarily cruel to Thor after already having so much pain in his life.

Ellie’s mother had run the kitchens in the palace back on Asgard and she grew up playing with Thor and Loki. She hadn’t seen Thor in hundreds of years but she had heard the stories. Ellie had heard of his victories, and his great losses over the last few years. She mourned the death of his family as if they were her own. She knew what had become of him after The Decimation and her heart broke for him. Everyone had written Thor off as a lost cause after that but Ellie had hoped he would someday recover. Now that The Blip had occurred, and those lost had returned, Thor was back in Asgard again staying in the same dingy little cottage. Ellie wanted to go to him and offer anything he might need but she didn’t know him well enough anymore to do so. When Valkyrie had asked someone to go remind him of her expectations and help clean, she had jumped at the chance.

Ellie’s muscles were aching by the time she reached the cottage door and she took a moment to steady herself before knocking. Her curly blonde hair whipped around her in the wind and she did her best to tame it and smooth down her sweater where it had ridden up. She wished absently that she had stuck to her last diet. Ellie had never been like the other thin, lithe girls in her classes. She had always been short and rounded where they were tall with sharp angles. In general she tried not to let it bother her too much but now, about to see Thor again after all these years, it added to her nervousness.

Ellie steadied her breathing and knocked twice. After a few seconds with no sounds coming from inside the cottage she tried again, louder this time. Still no response. Ellie thought he might be out and decided she could at least get a jump start on the cleaning. She pushed the old wooden door open with a loud creak and was met by the scent of stale air and old beer. Ellie wrinkled her nose but entered, heading down the short hallway to the main room. She was confused to find the television on but noticed quickly that she was not alone. Slumped into a fading old reclining chair was Thor, fast asleep. His Xbox headset still on and a controller laid in his lap. He must have passed out while playing and based on the number of beer bottles littering the table next to him it was no wonder why.

Ellie tried not to stare at his sleeping form. He was shirtless in only a pair of worn grey sweatpants, his long tangled hair lying all around him. It had grown quite a bit since the last time Ellie had seen him and she was surprised he was letting it get so long. His beard was in need of a trim too and Ellie wondered when the last time he’d showered was. He was clearly not taking care of himself, or the cottage, again.

Feeling like a creep for staring, she pulled her eyes away from him and found her way to the kitchen. She set out her cleaning supplies and grabbed a large black trash bag to start picking up. Ellie did her best to keep quiet as she collected the discarded bottles and wrappers around the cottage and Thor continued to snore lightly in his chair. She found herself peeking over at him often, just to make sure she had not disturbed him or so she told herself. Carefully she crept around the house gathering all the trash that had accumulated amazed at how much there was. Ellie started scrubbing down the kitchen, wanting to get everything else done before she started on the living room since she would most likely wake him once she did.

It took almost three hours but Ellie had the cottage cleaned and a third load of laundry started before Thor woke up. She knew she had made a mistake when she turned off the Xbox. It must have been playing some type of background music because the second it shut off Thor’s eyes snapped open. He looked around startled and confused before his eyes landed on her. “Who are you?” He demanded, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“I’m Ellisandra. Ellie.” She stumbled over her words, nervous under his gaze, “Valkyrie sent me to-“

Thor groaned, “Of course she did. Listen, Lady Ellisandra, you do not need to waste your time here. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of the cottage.”

“It’s Ellie, just Ellie. And with all due respect, I’ve been here since one and have almost finished. I’d rather just finish up and then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Thor looked around the cottage, realizing the accumulation of trash was missing and the windows were opened, the mild October air blowing in.

Ellie started rambling, nervous, “I saved the living room for last. I was trying not to disturb you. Everything else is done. Well, you still have one load of clothes in the dryer yet. But the linens and one load of clothes are all done and put away. If you’d like I can run out once I’m finished and get you some food for the kitchen. I noticed you don’t have much of, well... anything.”

Thor stood up with a groan, rubbing his lower back and stretching. Ellie’s cheeks burned and she tried to look away. She might not be able to control her body’s response to him, but she was raised to be polite. Thor misinterpreted her reaction and the large god seemed to try and pull himself in, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I’m sorry la... Ellie. I know I’m not much to look at anymore. I’ll just go grab something to put on. You don’t have to stay, really.”

“No!” Ellie’s cheeks burned brighter at her unintentional outburst and she rambled despite herself, “You’re fine. You’re stunning.” Thor raised an eyebrow and she realized she probably seemed like a rambling lunatic. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I should be cleaning. I’m so close to being finished it won’t take long. Just ignore me.” Ellie hurried back into the kitchen to grab the duster and avoid further embarrassment. It stung a little that he didn’t remember her but the last time they’d seen each other they were still children, just barely adolescents. She certainly couldn’t blame him.

Thor found himself amused and interested in the flustered woman in his home. Stunning, he mulled over the word. No one had shown any interest in him in years and he was a little thrown off by it. He rubbed a rough hand through his wild beard and down the slope of his rounded stomach. He cursed at his own sloth and headed into the bedroom for a shirt. Amazed, he stood in the doorway taking in the room. He hadn’t realized how messy the cottage had become until it was all cleaned. The bed was made and smelled of crisp linen. There was no clothing or trash to stumble around as he crossed the room. His clothes were put away in the small oak dresser, his few other belongings laid on top with care. Thor pulled on a clean shirt and then noticed how dingy his pants were by comparison. Stripping down he changed into clean blue fleece pants and tossed the dirty ones into the wicker bin that now sat in empty the corner. He scowled at his reflection in the mirror, knowing nothing could be done right then about anything. Pulling his hair back from his face he went to find his unexpected visitor.

He found Ellie stretching as high as she could to run the duster along the top shelf of the bookcase. Thor paused a moment at the doorway to take her in. She was at least a foot shorter than him and her shiny blonde curls cascaded down almost to the top of her jeans. Her cream colored sweater had risen up as she reached, giving Thor a glimpse of the pale, creamy skin of her lower back. He ached for a chance to run his hands down her curves and feel her skin beneath his finger tips. Thor scolded himself for looking at Ellie with need. She was here to help and he was all but leering. There was something about her though, something achingly familiar. Breaking himself from his thoughts he went over to her, taking the duster from her outstretched hand. “Here, allow me to help.” He offered.

Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, only a small gasp escaping her lips. She felt cornered under his reach but not in a bad way. She slipped out of his way with a quiet thank you and watched as he finished the dusting. Ellie noticed he had changed and was glad she had gone ahead and done the laundry. It seemed a little intimate doing someone else’s wash but it needed done and made a huge difference in the bedroom.

“Good as new.” Thor announced handing her back the duster. His smile was warm and it unnerved her a little.

“Thanks for getting that. I’m a little vertically challenged.” Ellie wanted to facepalm herself at the bad joke.

Thor chuckled, seeming to enjoy it.

“I’ll just vacuum in here and then head out. I was going to the grocery store tonight for myself if you want me to pick up a few things for you while I’m there.”

“I appreciate the offer but I do not know how to cook so it would just go to waste.”

“You never did spend much time in the kitchens. Not that my mother would have let you. But you might want to learn if you’re going to be living alone up here. I could show you a few things.”

Thor thought for a moment and realization slowly dawned on him. “Ellie.” He said, the sound of her name on his lips so different than before. “You grew up in the palace with us. Your mother Idria was my mother’s head cook. It's been so long.”

Ellie nodded, glad he finally remembered. “It’s been many years. I’m surprised you remember.”

“How could I forget? The palace was a lonely place but you made it a little brighter.”

Ellie struggled to conceal her joy. Clearing her throat she asked, “So, do you want me to get you a few things? I can teach you a few basics to help you get by.”

He wasn’t particularly interested in learning to cook but more time with Ellie was too tempting to pass up. He nodded finally, “That would be nice. Thank you, Ellie.”

“What kind of things do you like? Anything you hate?”

“I don’t know. Midgard has very different things than Asgard. I’m not picky though.”

“Okay. Let me go to the store and pick up a few things and at least show you how to make dinner.”

“I’ll be here.”

Taglist lovelies: @thorfanficwriter @lancsnerd

If anyone else wants to be added just drop me an ask or message and I’ll include you on the Master List and future chapters :)

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unavenged-robin · 6 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Robin!Dick is looking after Baby!Damian? Please?

I guess if you’re a batfam writer you’ll eventually end up writing the baby!Damian AU one way or the other, uh? Must be a law or something. Anyway, enjoy!

"I’d like to say that this is the strangest evening of my life”, he confides to the baby currently squirming in his arms. "But between me and you, for now it doesn’t even makes the top ten. Although I have the strong impression that this is only gonna get weirder and weirder from now on, yeah? What do you say?"

The baby blows bubbles at him and doesn’t say anything. To be fair, he’s not even one year old and too amazed by the wonderful discoveries of his own fingers to pay attention to Dick’s nervous rambling. Which is a good thing. In his fifteen years on this Earth, Dick has met and played with a lot of children, including many babies, but he suspects that bouncing them on his knees and making weird faces at them for five minutes doesn’t really qualify him as a good babysitter.

Plus, there’s still the little matter of the unconscious Batman currently laying on the couch of his living room.

Dick had to catch him from face planting on the floor as soon as he opened the door, and it’s still unclear to him how the hell he managed to hold both the baby that was shoved without a warning into his arms, and the two hundred pounds of Dark Knight that immediately followed without dropping either of them. And Bruce had not been helpful in the slightest, by the way. In his defense, he looked, and still looks, so badly beaten that Dick winces in pain by just looking at him - and Bruce being still knocked out twenty minutes later does say a lot about how bad this is. Which is like, really bad.

So yeah, if the baby starts to cry, Dick is gonna lose it. More than he’s already losing it. Lucky for him, this particular baby doesn’t seem to be much of a crier. More of a hitter, if anything, since he seems to enjoy slapping the chubby hand he’s not too busy sucking, all over Dick’s face. Dick doesn’t mind. Like he doesn't mind the drool on his favorite shirt. The blood stains on the couch, on the other hand... but no, that's a problem for another day.

He pushes the baby’s wet fingers out of his mouth and bounces him a little on his hip.

“Are you angry, kiddo?”, he asks, pacing around the living room to soothe himself more than the kid, who’s now just gurgling quietly at himself. Dick side-eyes Bruce’s still form again and sighs. “I don’t reckon we’ll find baby formula in his utility belt, uh? I mean, with him you can never be sure about anything, but-”

He’s my son, Bruce had muttered against Dick’s shoulder while he was dragging him across the room. He’d added something else, but Dick was not able to catch it, his brain already short-circuiting. Batman’s son. Bruce’s son. And Dick didn’t knew anything about it. He still doesn’t know anything about it. Where the kid was, who the mother is, how Bruce find out about him in the first place, when he got him, who attacked them and why. He doesn’t know anything because he wasn’t there, and he wasn’t there because he and Bruce had been in this stupid fight for weeks now, and Dick’s been staying with the Titans since then, away from home, away from Bruce’s life which, apparently, is even more full of surprises than Dick ever imagined.

And now Bruce won’t wake up to explain anything.

Dick swallows back the deadly mix of fear and guilt gripping his guts and tries to think. Prioritize. Be Robin.

He should call Alfred. Or Clark. Check the perimeter, make sure that Batman wasn’t followed, that they’re not going to be under attack any moment soon. Find something for the baby to eat. And a diaper, since he doesn’t seem to be wearing one under the blanket he's wrapped in. The diaper first, probably.

“I don’t even know what your name is”, Dick realizes, stopping his restless pacing to actually look at the kid for the first time tonight. The baby squeals in response and looks back at him with big, bright green eyes full of curiosity. “I hope you already have one, because I’m gonna tell you in all honesty that Bruce is really shitty at naming things. He’ll probably just call you Batson or Batbaby, you know?”

For some reason, the idea makes him laugh. Well, it’s more a bark than a laugh but still. It’s not even funny, but Dick’s nervous, and scared, and he needs an outlet. He also really, really needs to call Alfred.

“I’m Dick, by the way”, he continues, still giggling, a little bit hysterically at this point. The baby, at least, seems very fascinated with the sound and tries to push his fingers inside Dick's mouth again. “I’m your- well, I have no idea what I am to you. Your brother, maybe. But Bruce’s not my dad, you see, he’s my partner. What would you call your father’s partner? An uncle? I kinda feel like Clark is my uncle sometimes. You’ll meet Clark soon enough, I think. He’s Superman. Very cool guy. But I think I’m too young to be an uncle, you know? So let’s say that we’ll decide what I am to you later, okay?”

He’s rambling again. And he’s kinda crying. Maybe. Just a little bit.

Is Bruce even breathing? Dick can’t scrape up enough courage to get closer to him and check out, but he has to, right? Because Bruce can’t die angry with him. Or thinking that Dick is angry with him. And there’s… well, there’s Batbaby to take care of, now. The same Batbaby who’s starting to whimper, little fists balled up around Dick’s drool-soaked t-shirt.

“Shhh, no please, don’t cry”, Dick tries to shush him, rocking him up and down. “Please, please, don’t cry, Batbaby. That’s, like, the last thing I need right now.”

“Damian.”

Dick jumps. He shouldn’t, what with being Robin and all, but he does it anyway: he jumps. Later he’s going to justify himself by saying that Bruce’s voice was so roughed up that he could barely recognize it, and anyway let’s be real: his Batman’s voice could very well be a villain’s voice. It was studied to be so.

“Bruce?”, Dick all but runs to him, crouching in front of the couch to help him sitting up. “Bruce, are you okay? What the hell happened? Who’s this baby? Is he really-”

“Damian”, Bruce repeats with a grunt, propping himself up on his elbow and failing at hiding a wince at the motion. “His name’s Damian. Not Batbaby.”

He manages to sound so offended at the idea, and Dick can’t help but laugh again. This is one of the things he could never explain to anyone, not even his friends, because saying out loud “Batman makes me laugh” and meaning it, makes everyone look at you like you were some kind of a lunatic. But it’s true. Bruce manages to make him laugh more times than Dick cares to admit. And it’s a good thing. It’s nice, and familiar.

“Well, excuse me”, he snorts, already a little bit more relaxed because Bruce is fine - battered up, but fine - and if Bruce is fine then everything else is gonna be fine too. It’s how the world works. “You do have a tendency of naming everything as Bat-something. Like, if I hadn't chosen Robin as my name, can you honestly say that you wouldn't have called me Bat Kid or something on the line?”

Bruce blinks down at him.

“Dick…”

“Nevermind, I know I’m right”, Dick interrupts him. “Now, are you going to answer my other questions? Who’s Batba- who’s Damian?”

Bruce’s gaze shifts to the baby in Dick’s arms, and the wrinkles around his mouth soften up into the hint of a smile.

“My son”, he answers, reaching up to take him.

And it’s definitely not the first time Batman holds a baby to his chest, but this looks somehow different to Dick’s eyes. Something in the way Bruce touches the kid, maybe. Not only extra careful, but also a bit hesitant. Like Bruce himself is not entirely sure this is real.

“Your son”, Dick repeats, sitting back on his heels and waiting for Bruce to elaborate. “Okay. That was clear enough.”

Weird and unexpected, but yeah, clear enough.

Bruce pushes back his cowl, smiles down at Damian and caresses the baby's cheek with exceptionally gentle fingers. Damian squirms and kicks his feet, apparently very happy to be fussed over.

“Mine and Talia’s”, Bruce adds after a moment, readjusting the squirming baby on his lap. The blanket in which Damian's wrapped in slips away a little, revealing a small bare shoulder. And on the shoulder, clear as daylight, Dick sees the bloody handprint Bruce’s now also staring at.

“Talia Al Ghul? The daughter or Ra's Al Ghul?”

It's baffling to even think about it. The blood on Damian’s skin is dry, Dick notices. And the handprint is slim and elongated, but little, clearly belonging to a woman’s hand.

“Talia Al Ghul”, Bruce confirms with a sigh, avoiding Dick's eyes. “She didn’t- I don’t think she had any intention of telling me about him anytime soon. I had to fight my way into the League’s compound to get to him. And then to get him out.”

Well, shit, Dick thinks.

“Well, shit”, he repeats out loud, standing up only to plop down on the couch next to Bruce.

For a while they just look in silence at Damian, who’s now fussing very loudly, trying to put Bruce’s fingers into his mouth, armored gauntlet and all.

“He’s kinda cute”, Dick decides. “To be your son, I mean.”

“I know.”

There’s the hint of a smile in Bruce’s voice. Dick frowns, reaches out an hand and boops the baby on the nose, making him chuckling in delight.

“I would’ve helped even if I was - am - still angry at you”, he adds accusingly. “You only had to ask me, and I would've come with you.”

“I know.”

“You always know everything”, Dick scoffs, but Bruce’s admission is already a win on its own in his book. “And yet here we are.”

“Here we are”, Bruce repeats. He doesn't sound as exasperated as Dick feels, though.

Bruce sinks back a little into the cushions, head tilted to the side, one arm still wrapped around the baby, the other one on the back of the couch, almost around Dick’s shoulders. His ribs must be killing him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Truth to be told, underneath all the bruises, and the blood, and the dust, he looks kinda happy, which is always a good look on him, Dick believes.

He gently brushes a thumb over Damian’s shoulder, rubbing off the dry blood from the baby’s skin. He looks up at Bruce.

“I guess I’m coming back with you then, uh?”, he asks, hating the hesitation in his own voice. It’s not like Bruce would ever kick him out of the Manor, for god’s sake. And it’s only a flash, but Dick catches it anyway: the relief in Bruce’s eyes as he looks back at him.

“I…”, Bruce starts, voice unsure. Then he coughs and looks away. “That would be very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Dick.”

“Thoughtful”, Dick repeats with a dramatic sigh, resting his head on Bruce’s shoulder to get closer to Damian’s little, very chubby face. “Heard that, Batbaby? That’s an example of the shit you’re gonna get once you grow up, I hope you know that.”

“Language”, Bruce grumbles above them.

Dick ignores him altogether.

“Did you already call Alfred? Does he know yet?”

Bruce's face twists as if he had sucked on a lemon, which is enough of an answer for Dick.

“That’s gonna be so much fun”, he grins, leaning forwards to nuzzle his nose against Damian’s round one. “But only for me and Batbaby, of course.”

#dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #i'm writing too many au #but it's not my fault they're fun #Anonymous #asks #my fic #shari writes

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bookmawkish · 6 years

Text

New inmates at Arkham, part 3

@worldoftherandom

unedited ramblings but at least I’m writing again. Part 1 | Part 2

My fic masterlist

They are not, in fact, a small challenge.

They are a disaster.

Oh, to be sure, by themselves, they would each pose a fascinating conundrum to be unravelled. There are whole medical journals that could be dedicated to the psychology of the one called Loki, who has the glittering, intent eyes of a true psychopath and the cutting, polished vocabulary of a jaded academic. And then there’s Heckyl, a priceless, flamboyant con artist with all the dramatic flair of a cheap lounge singer paired with a nastily laissez-faire attitude towards other people‘s lives. Strange can understand what they see in each other. There are a lot of similarities.

For the first time in his long career, he feels that uncommon and uncomfortable sensation: uncertainty.

What to do with them? Are they suitable for taking to the next step, a little further down the line? To the basement?

Loki looks him right in the eyes and says, with bedrock surety: “You don’t want to do this.”

“Do…what?” Strange asks, never letting his usual slight smile falter.

“Go inside my head,” Loki replies, and smiles back, with teeth. His eyes are emotionally dead. He has the expression of a Jurassic carnivore, even down to the raptorish tilt of the head. “Or anywhere else. I can assure you, you won’t like what you find there.”

“And why is that?”

Strange maintains his usual attitude, but he is already dissuaded. He already doesn’t want to go there. He can’t quite put his finger upon why - later he will realise that it is the same mix of curiosity and aversion he feels when dissecting the deep-sea creatures in the basement lab. The dark one, the ones that were never meant to see daylight. The feeling that there is something alien under his hands and that its potential has never been fully explored or understood. He wants to exploit the opportunity - oh yes - but there are lurking, unknown dangers.

Loki just leans back in his chair on the other side of the desk. Completely relaxed. Comfortable with the situation and where he is. He’s very different to the broken people who usually take that chair. His kind of broken is the broken that’s been reinforced with carbon cement and is now sixty times as strong along the fracture lines. His kind of broken is so powerful it hurts.

“You’re not ready,” he says, calmly. “You are a small man. And you have nothing that I want.”

“I have you,” Strange says. “And I have your…I have Heckyl. I’m sure you want him to be well, Loki. I saw you speak strongly to him when he attacked Helzinger. You want him to be free from here, don’t you? Come now. There‘s no shame in caring for the mental health of those we love.”

Loki stares at him, unblinking, until a tiny, wicked curl of smile touches his lips.

“Believe me,” he murmurs, apparently much amused, “if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t still be here at all.”

Then he won’t say anything else. He and Strange sit in complete silence for twenty minutes, staring at each other, until the guards come to take Loki away.

And then there‘s the other one.

“Of course,” Heckyl says, putting his feet up on the desk (Strange shudders inside) “that was before Sledge decided to put me in solitary. I mean really. Me.”

“You felt slighted,” says Strange. “Naturally.” The whole narrative has been a complete children’s bedtime story. Giant robots. Space invasions. Powerful gems that bond with dinosaurs. It’s like Heckyl’s never properly grown up. Fascinating really, considering that his psychosis is insisting that in order to fit his fabricated life story he must be about 65 million years old. There are so many layers in this one he’s like an onion.

“No,” Heckyl retorts, rolling his eyes. “I felt bored. Have you any idea how boring it is in solitary? For millions of years?” He leans forward on the desk. He’s cuffed: particularly after that little show with Helzinger, Strange isn’t taking any chances. “Is that tea? I want some.”

Strange pours a cup for him. It’s herbal, bland, and has no sugar in it. No stimulants for the inmates. Not only are they expensive, they’re against policy. Heckyl drinks some and pulls a face like a toddler given straight lemon juice. “Ugh,” he says, ungratefully. “Don’t you have anything in this place that isn’t dull as ditchwater?”

“Well,” says Strange, feeling simultaneously a little daring and a little triumphant - finally, a way to sneak into this wretched egomaniac’s damaged little mind - “there’s you. And your rather interesting…friend.”

Heckyl preens and smiles, but there’s something lurking back there that Strange doesn’t like at all, something dark, and it comes out in the next few words.

“We’re not just friends,” he smirks. Playful, on the surface. Careless, you might think, except for that capering horror just visible behind the silly smile that says quite clearly: back off. I may look like a vaudeville fool, but I’m quite rabid and I’ll not hesitate to bite. Make you dead or make you as mad as I am.

“Oh,” Strange smiles, keeping his tone casual and not letting his insight seep into his manner. “I never thought so for a moment.” He pauses, watching Heckyl put down the tea and scowl at the cup, and then decides to risk it. Just a little push. Just because he has to know. “Of course, it would be very easy to take him away from you.” He sees the playfulness immediately drain from the man’s every attitude, every flicker of expression, and he dials up the professional concern to a level designed to antagonise. “It’s very important to me that you’re calm, Heckyl. I don’t think being with Loki makes you at all calm. Perhaps it’s for the best if you -”

There’s a sharp crack which Strange, after a confused glance around, finally traces to the handcuffs on Heckyl’s wrists. They’re lying open. There’s a smell in the air, suddenly, like the smell you get before a storm. Electricity. The lights flicker above them. And Heckyl’s eyes are that odd colour again, like they’re lit from within by something inhuman and awful. He’s twitching.

“You don’t get to tell me what’s best,” he snarls.

“Now, Heckyl,” says Strange, maintaining the professional calm despite an unwelcome stab of alarm. Open cuffs. Open cuffs. And he’d throttled huge Helzinger like a chicken in a barn. “This is absolutely what we need to be discussing. I know you’ve met Oswald. He is very close to being cured. You could be sane too. Don’t you want that?”

“If being sane means I don’t have Loki,” Heckyl growls, “I’d rather be a raving lunatic for the rest of my life.” He rises from the chair, leaning forward. It’s an effort for Strange not to lean back in response. But he holds still. “And I’m going to live a long time.”

“I’m afraid your time is up,” says Strange, as the door opens and the guards come in. There’s a dangerous moment: for an instant he’s almost certain that Heckyl is going to attack them. But it doesn’t happen, and Strange notes the man’s shoulders, which had been up, bristling in rage, have now hunched in a much more anxious attitude. How interesting.

“Miss Peabody,” he says out loud, because he knows she’s listening - she always is - “take a note. I’m adding Heckyl to the basement transfer list. There’s something about him I think will be useful.”

It’s Heckyl’s somewhat extreme reaction to his interview which decides Loki: they’re leaving tonight. No more playing around. This game isn’t fun anymore. The alien comes back from his experience with Strange and Loki immediately doesn’t like it. Something’s wrong. Something that feels a lot like what had happened in the lunch room yesterday.

And Heckyl is physically distressed, body twitching in the way that in previous, darker times would have heralded a transformation into Snide. Except that’s impossible. By all the gods please let it be impossible. “I can’t,” he’s gasping as they shove him through the door, and Loki grabs his arm, pulls him down onto the floor, sits him close. “I’m sorry. Loki, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening -”

“It’s this place,” Loki murmurs. “We have both been captives. You the longest. And I suspect they are drugging the food. I’m afraid you’ll have to stop eating until we leave.”

The fact that Heckyl doesn’t immediately rail against the idea of enforced starvation is perhaps the biggest indicator of how badly he’s been affected. Loki swallows his own anger at this. It isn’t useful at present.

“I can feel him,” Heckyl whispers, his head buried against Loki’s shoulder. “He’s gone, I know he’s gone, but it feels - I feel - the way I did for all those years -”

“He’s gone,” Loki reassures. “It’s just memory. They dig through minds here. Pull out the worst parts and make you look.” He strokes a hand over the short-cropped hair at the nape of Heckyl’s neck, comforting. “I should not have kept us here,” he says. “You’re too fragile.”

“Fragile?” Heckyl snorts, sitting more upright and glaring, but relents as he realises that it’s merely Loki’s gambit to bring him back to himself. “Fine. I’m fragile. You can pander to my adorable fragility later. Right now…”

He heaves himself to his feet, tugs down the lapels of his striped coveralls, and flexes his fingers. “Right now I want to fry something. Don’t try to talk me out of it.”

“On the contrary,” Loki purrs. “I think I’ll join you.”

And this is how Oswald ends up cowering into the corner of his cell while outside the alarms are shrieking and people are screaming. He is terribly afraid, because Bad Things can still happen to Nice People, and he’s a Nice Person now.

Then lightning shoots through the lock on his door, crawls coruscating up the walls in achingly bright blue-white lines, and the cell opens. The two tall figures in the doorway are instantly recognisable, even in silhouette.

“Hello again,” Loki says, smiling pleasantly - as if it’s absolutely normal that his partner is wearing strings of living lightning around his arms like gaudy bracelets. “Time to go.”

#loki #Heckyl #heckyl/loki #Oswald Cobblepot #hugo strange #arkham asylum #Gotham #FANDOM FUSION #crossover #au #power rangers dino charge #MCU #avengers #fanfiction #fanfic #my otp #my otp is perfect

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redisaid · 7 years

Text

Almost Never

Just a cute little oneshot that takes place in the Do No Harm universe during their pre-Talon affair. Thank you to @dinochoobs, who always has good ideas somehow.

Haven’t read DNH yet? You should! I promise this is chock full of references to the fic that you will enjoy.

1329 Words

Amelie’s phone chirped with the familiar tone of an incoming text message. She definitely didn’t have it resting on her chest while she laid down on the hideous purple couch and pretended to watch television. She definitely didn’t leave it there to make sure she didn’t miss any incoming messages. She definitely wasn’t waiting for Angela to call her. Definitely not.

Angela usually called, so maybe it wasn’t her. Regardless, the alert stirred Amelie from her vegetative state. She only realized that she’d already seen this episode of the baking competition show she had on when her eyes strayed to the holo screen for a moment and looked at it, not through it. She picked her phone up off of her collarbone and swiped in her security pattern.

It took her two tries. She never used to use one, before. Having something to hide was still new to her.

And it was a good thing she had one too. Gerard was gone for the week, but if he were there, he might have had questions about why the message she had just received was not a text, but in fact, was a picture of a generous pair of breasts.

“...the fuck?” Amelie found herself muttering. Oh right, Angela’s contact showed at the top of the message. But wait, what? Angela didn’t do things like this normally. Well, not unless she was extremely drunk.

Oh.

She immediately dialed Angela. The phone rang only once before someone picked up. Someone who was laughing like a lunatic already.

“Angela,” Amelie cautioned before the other woman could speak. “How drunk are you.”

“How drunk is the moon?” Angela asked through her giggle fit.

“It’s not, because it’s a giant rock that orbits the earth,” Amelie reminded her. “So I’ll take that to mean that you are very drunk.”

“I have a secret,” Angela whispered into the receiver, still laughing. “Are you ready? I am so drunk, Amelie. I am so fucking drunk.”

Amelie sighed. From the sound of Angela’s voice, she was not lying. Amelie had seen her tipsy plenty of times, sure. Drunk a few, maybe. Flat out titty pic-sending wasted? Never. Well, almost never.

“Please tell me you’re at home,” Amelie begged.

“Of course. Torb got me a cab,” Angela answered. “Don’t you recognize my shower curtain in the picture? You bought it. Seafoam green, really Amelie? My apartment is a mess, but it’s not a mental hospital or anything like--”

Amelie interrupted her. “You’re rambling. Torbjörn Lindholm, right? The little Swedish guy?”

“Duuuuude,” Angela replied. “He made the BEST vodka and shared it with the officers today. I swear to God, Amelie--it tasted like I was drinking water. It was soooooo smooth.”

Well now. That explained things. Amelie managed a smile, but tried not to let any hint of it slip into her voice. “Drink some water,” she chastised. “Actual water, not vodka that tastes like water.”

“I wanna drink you instead,” Angela purred. “My tall glass of water. French water. Fucking Evian. You fancy bitch.”

Despite all of her best efforts, a chuckle escaped Amelie’s lips and made its way into her phone. There went her best attempt at being responsible. “Are you drunk flirting with me?” “How hot is the moon? Because you’re hotter,” Angela retorted.

“Depending what side is facing the sun, it could be very hot or very cold,” Amelie informed her.

Angela snorted. “How do you know all these moon facts?” “Television,” Amelie answered simply. “I had the science network on before I put on my baking show.”

“Oh my God Amelie. How many times do you need to watch other people make baguettes? Come over here and fuck me. That’s much more interesting,” Angela promised.

“But I’d be taking advantage of you,” Amelie teased.

“I’m not drinking a drop of water until your Evian ass is sitting in my lap. Get over here now,” Angela demanded.

Well, Amelie was not one to disobey. She also needed to get to Angela before she got anymore photos of her body parts. Not that Amelie particularly minded those, but she honestly wasn’t sure how to delete them off of her new phone and didn’t feel like figuring it out. One tit pic was excusable as a terribly embarrassing accident. Multiple photos were another thing.

So she caught a taxi and headed for Angela’s.

Thankfully, she only got one more picture on the way there. It was a bottle of water, unopened, resting in Angela’s cleavage, with the caption: “I don’t have any fucking Evian. Please accept this store brand trash water instead.”

Incidentally, as she was buzzing her way into Angela’s apartment, Amelie figured out how to delete messages on her new phone.

She was surprised that Angela was still dressed when she opened the door. Well, dressed was a relative term. She had on an Overwatch-branded hoodie, slung over some silky blouse that she must have worn to work. She had pajama shorts on...over ripped nylons.

Angela thrust a bottle of water at Amelie and pulled her inside. “Hey fancy water,” she slurred. “Why don’t...wait...uh...why don’t you drink yourself?”

The corners of Angela’s mouth curled into a grin. It looked like she wanted to laugh at her own terrible joke, but her body was lagging too far behind to push enough air out of her lungs to make a laugh.

Amelie shook her head and smiled. “Exactly how much of Mr. Lindholm’s Swedish-Engineered vodka did you have?” she asked as she handed the water bottle back to Angela.

Angela only failed to grab it once, to her credit. She shook her head after the first attempt and seemed to clear her vision enough to grab it from Amelie’s hand on the second. “Honestly, I don’t even remember. We were having a little barbecue outside of the flight test hangar. It was fun, I think.”

Amelie chuckled. She was long past playing the part of the concerned upstanding citizen at this point. Drunken mess though she was, Angela was adorable with her cheeks all flushed and her hair a mess. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Amelie told her. “Now, since I’m here, you better drink that water.”

“But your amazing ass isn’t in my lap yet,” Angela pouted. “You’re just standing in my kitchen and looking smug.”

Amelie wagged her finger at Angela. “If I wasn’t afraid that you might vomit on me, I’d consider agreeing to that, but right now, I think you should drink that. I mean, I’m not doctor, but--”

Angela cut her off as she twisted the lid of the bottle open. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I know.” She then proceeded to down more than half the contents of the bottle in on impressive gulp. Angela noticed this and was very proud of herself. She went to go flex at Amelie, but lost her balance somehow.

Amelie caught her before she could fall into the kitchen counter.

Angela wouldn’t let her go afterward. “I was so convinced that I was gonna fuck the shit out of you tonight. I think...I think that’s probably a bad plan, huh?”

Amelie chuckled and brushed a few stray strands of Angela’s hair back into place behind her ear. “Not bad, just improbable.”

“Can we just sleep? Is that okay?” Angela pleaded into her girlfriend’s collar bone.

“Of course,” Amelie told her. “But finish your water.”

Angela’s fingernails dug into Amelie’s sides a little. She still wasn’t letting go. “If I do, will you stay the night with me? Make sure I don’t do anything stupid?”

Angela smelled like grilled sausages, cabs, and a cigarette that was supposed to have been covered up with a very minty piece of gum. She was warm and loose in Amelie’s arms, like a hot towel just out of the dryer--a very drunk towel.

“I can’t guarantee that you won’t do anything stupid,” Amelie replied, “but if you do, I’ll be doing it with you.”

#mercymaker #fanfic #do no harm #oneshot #just some drunk cuddles for you #trying to get the writing juices flowing again

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hearmyvoiceoftreason · 7 years

Text

standing by and waiting at your backdoor || chapter 3 snippet

A/N: as some of you have already seen, @greg-the-goose made this wonderful art for this fic and i was so happy with it i figured to just give a sneak peek of what’s to come next. hope you enjoy!

“Hand me another spool of solder,” Katie muttered as she outstretched her right hand as her dominant was still preoccupied connecting a wire to another circuit board.

Third-period MWF meant Slav’s Robotics Elective and if Katie had to be honest, she had to credit the school for the good call regarding her schedule.

The period itself was still a little far from lunch or any other of her scheduled free time so she felt no pressure in rushing out of excitement or hunger, and it was usually around this time that she had long shaken off the grogginess that most usually tried to blink through during first period.

Hunk fought back a yawn as he complied and handed her the spool with one hand while the other covered his mouth.

But then again.

It was Monday and just about any time on a Monday would still be too early for anyone to deal with.

Or for anyone to deal with anything.

Hurray, student life, am I right?

Stifling her own yawn, she unspooled some silver and grabbed the soldering iron.

Katie usually found refuge in the blank state of mind that working on tech offered. Here everything was mechanical and structured.

Pun intended.

Each little screw had its corresponding place, every line of code had its function in the overall script and everything they did in the free time as soon as Professor Slav finished up his short lectures had an impact on the finished product.

Everything just made perfect sense.

The clean-cut of it all was a comfort for an overworked mind like Katie’s (accelerated year, full AP sched and in love with her taken best friend. Very overworked.) So it was a simple joy in life that she could always count on and turn back to.

Today seemed to be an exception.

“So I have a hypothesis.”

A rather stark one, too.

“About what?” she asked distractedly, watching as the silver melted onto the board and fused the wires together.

“About you and Shiro.”

She turned to face him so fast she felt a joint in her neck crack a little bit. A small price to pay if it meant Hunk would cower in fear at her scowl.

It didn’t seem to work.

Hunk just blinked in response.

Since when did her scowls and glares stop working? Ugh.

“You already know why that will never happen and her name and face are plastered all over the school along with his.”

The perks of being in love with one half of the school’s It Couple, she thought dryly.

“It actually has nothing to do with that.”

“Huh?”

Hunk only raised his hands in defense. “Look, hear me out.”

“Fine.” She muttered as she turned back to soldering. The wires won’t connect themselves, dammit.

“So about this hypothesis, well actually it’s more of a theory.” Hunk started.

“What kind of theory are we talking about?” she snipped. “Einstein’s Theory of Relativity with actual math to back it up or purely hypothetical Schrodinger’s Multiverse Theory that’ll end up with me thinking you’re a lunatic?”

“Somewhere in between. Like, I kinda have some proof but at the same time you’ll probably end up debunking me.” Hunk supplied. “Also, if you wanna hear someone ramble about infinite realities you should just go ask Professor Slav.”

Katie let out a snort which soon evolved into a small chuckle.

Well.

That seemed to have cleared the air a bit. She unspooled a little more solder as she turned to Hunk.

“Okay. Go on?”

“Do you remember what I was like when I first realized I liked Shay?”

Despite the irritation that throbbed at her temples, nothing could suppress the smile that started to pull at the corners of Katie’s lips. “Who didn’t?”

Shay was a girl from another school he met during one of Altea’s away games at the start of the school year. Hunk had gone against her brother, Rax, on the field, and had met the two again when they went to watch another one of their away games.

The connection had been instant between the Hunk and Shay when the siblings stepped down to congratulate him for their win.

Hunk had been nothing but a nervous wreck whenever she was around, and that had been a lot considering she and her brother were avid football fans. It was actually kind of entertaining to watch at first until it frustrated Katie to no end because why didn’t they just get together already, dammit.

From her peripheral vision Katie didn’t miss the small, fond smile that started to form on Hunk’s face as well.

“You were more nervous than usual every time you saw her. Like you had irritable bowel syndrome and you were gonna throw up every five seconds.”

“But it was obvious that I liked her, right?”

“Yeah?”

“And you guys kept prodding me saying that she liked me back too.”

“No duh.” She kept her eyes trained on the circuit board as the iron and solder came into contact, watching the silver melt the loose copper wires onto the chip. After checking it if it was securely attached, Katie wiped the tip of the iron on its designated sponge by its holster. “And you dorks took forever to get together.” She looked back up at him for a brief moment. “What was up with that?”

“Well, I didn’t really believe you guys when you said she felt the same way. But then I thought,” he paused to tighten a screw a little more securely. “What if she did, though? And like, what if I actually told her how I felt and stuff like that.”

Katie furrowed a brow at him. “What exactly are you getting at?”

“I’m getting there.” He let out a small grumble as he tightened another screw. “Now where was I?”

“What if you told her how you felt.”

“Okay. So. I had a serious crush on her for like most of the first semester, yeah? Truth was I had been planning to ask her out since midterms that time.”

Her eyes widened. “But you didn’t start going out until before winter break!”

“Yeah, but do you know why?”

Katie thought for a moment.

Oh.

Wow.

She was actually coming up at a blank.

“It was because of her brother.”

Huh?

“Wait, seriously? But I thought you and Rax were already good friends way before then?”

“That was the thing!” Hunk lifted his screwdriver to emphasize his point. “I knew I liked Shay, and I also kinda felt that she liked me back too, but I also knew that I’d feel guilty if I asked her out behind her brother’s back.”

“But you didn’t ask her behind his back. You actually asked permission from Rax and everything.”

“Why else do you think I took so long? I had to gather my guts and talk to Rax like a man and that’s what took forever, Pidge.” One by one the little gears in Katie’s head started to turn, processing what exactly it was that Hunk was trying to tell her.

No.

That’s not possible.

Right?

Hunk didn’t seem to notice her inner panic. “Not seeing if I liked her or if she liked me back or waiting for the right time. I needed time to ask permission from Rax and hopefully not ruin the friendship I had with the guy just because I liked his sister.”

“Hunk…” she let out a shaky breath. “You can’t possibly mean…”

No.

There was no way.

Right?

“Tell me, Pidge. What’s the difference between me and Shiro?”

That somehow managed to break her out of her state of alarm. “Huh?”

“A lot of people say that Shiro and I are alike but I know that head of yours can pinpoint the differences between us.” He gestured with his hands as a sign to let her talk.

“Well,” she took a moment to clear her thoughts. “You both are kind and caring, that’s a given.” She paused to push her glasses up her nose. “But you’re more of a people person. While both of you are friendly, Shiro’s a little more introverted. Not as lone wolfish as Keith but still an introvert. Or ambivert, if you prefer.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with her answer. “Okay, what else?”

“There’s also a difference in how you two think on the field.” Her hands busied themselves by fiddling with the solder spool. “You learn more from experience, or at least you remember small details really well, and that’s what makes you dependable as his fullback. Shiro prefers learning from facts, or at least looking at possibilities from what he reads in between the lines.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Hunk, please tell me where this is going?”

“You said Shiro prefers learning from in between the lines rather than the whole picture. So if he were in my situation, how exactly would he deal with it?”

“Hunk,” she warned, not wanting to feed that train of thought any further.

No. No point in giving life to the hopes that grew steady in her chest.

But what if, though?

Her mind let the train of thought pass for short moment.

Shiro?

Liking her?

But not doing anything because of Matt?

She shook her head and shoved the thought as quickly as she entertained it and internally cursed how her heart leaped excitedly at the mere idea of it all.

Hunk must’ve noticed as much. “Hypothetically speaking then.”

“Fine. Hypothetically,” she started, then opted to jump back into work and repositioning the board with one hand as the other reached for the spool. “Shiro wouldn’t want to act on the feelings right away unless he were totally sure of them.”

“Okay, what else?”

Once her other hand was free she reached for the soldering iron and tried to get back to work.

“Hypothetically he would be extra cautious with everything he did around the person he liked because he wouldn’t want them to know, all the more said person’s brother.”

“Try changing certain key factors to suit his current situation.”

“And by that you mean?”

“Hypothetically, Shiro likes you. But also, hypothetically, he feels like he’d be betraying Matt if he tried anything. So, hypothetically speaking, Shiro has been hiding feelings from you for a while but holding back for Matt’s sake.”

She should really stop flinching every time someone brought up the prospect of her and Shiro. Last time she choked on water. This time she splattered molten solder over one of her fingers.

“Ah!”

Her yelp caught the attention of the people around them, but not Professor Slav’s as he helped with another student’s designs.

The sting of the burn wasn’t anything all too painful, but it was still a jolt that went up her spine and made her receptors go haywire.

Quickly, she retracted her hand away and flexed her wrist back and forth in a fanning motion, then blowing on her burnt finger with her mouth before Katie took the moment to throw Hunk a glare.

“Dude.”

Read the first two chapters here -> x

#shidge #shiropidge #shatie #takatie #shiro x pidge #mine #fanfic #fic: sbawaybd #this was a part i was actually really proud of ngl #also follow greg pls she's a wonderful lovely bean and her shidge art gives me life #let's hope i get this done soon enough

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kaitymccoy123 · 7 years

Text

Messy p.t. 2

Intro: So so so here we are my loves, at last (I’m sorry it took so long - blame school). YES I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED IT MESSY P.T. 2 FOR YOUUU.

This is a long awaited (and long overdue) sequel to Messy that was requested by a number of you and thank you guys so much for the amazing response that Messy got, it astounds me.

So hopefully this one satiates your need for more as it is a long one (surprise surprise).

I want to give a big shout out to @yourtropegirl for setting up a poll for me to decide the uniform that Leonard would wear (right) along with the reader’s dress (left), which you can see above - they are beautiful guys thanks so much.

Pairing: Bones x reader

Word Count: 5,813 (whoopsies)

Warnings: none, just tooth-aching fluff and a little bit of frustration.

Summary: So, if you haven’t read the original Messy, Leonard is all upset because Jocelyn is getting re-married and invites Leonard to the wedding. The reader jokingly says that he should go and bring a hot date, not realizing that the hot date would actually be them. This story is surrounding Jocelyn’s wedding. I hope you enjoy!

ALSO: I have actually no idea what Jocelyn is like as a person, even what she looks like as I have seen precious few episodes of TOS. So I wrote her as a blue-eyed blonde who is infuriatingly nice. Though I have an angst fic planned where she isn’t going to be so nice...

-Enjoy!-

“Nope. That’s it. I’m not going.” You fumed, storming out of the bathroom, and stalking past Leonard who was zipping up his shirt.

Strong hands suddenly caught you around the waist, and you were yanked backwards.

“Hey, whoa, darlin’.” Leonard pulled you to his chest.

You beat weakly at his arms in an attempt to pry them off you and kicked your feet, trying to resist him but he was too strong.

“Let me go, Len.” You pouted, trying to squirm out of his grip.

“What’s wrong?” Leonard wrapped his arms around you tighter, one arm around your waist, one arm across your chest.

“I am not going to this wedding.” You stated, pushing off his chest to get away, but he held you fast.

“Why are- sTOP FIGHting ME!” He shouted as your elbows dug into his sides, trying to get him to release you.

“Go find some other beautiful girl to bring.” You fought.

“What are you-OW! Are you biting me?” Leonard inquired with a huff of laughter.

You pulled your teeth from his arm, “No.”

He suddenly spun you around in his grip to face him, his arms still locked around you, “What is the matter with you?”

“I-I can’t go, Len. I just-it’s too much and what if they...” You rambled but stopped when Leonard’s hands gripped either side of your face, making your cheeks squish and your lips pout slightly.

“You’re freaking out.” He informed.

“Nuhhuh.” You argued through pouted lips.

“Why are you freaking out?” Leonard released your face enough so you could speak.

“This dress looks dumb. I can barely breathe when it’s zipped up and it’s too... ugh.” You tried to explain, but with the disbelieving look that Leonard was giving you, he didn’t get it.

“Is that it?” He raised an eyebrow and you suddenly had the urge to shave it off.

“Well that and that this is a big step, Len. I am meeting your ex, on her WEDDING DAY no less, and I am going to meet your daughter and they are all going to hate me and I look stupid in this...” You started to hyperventilate.

Leonard’s hands fell to your shoulders and you looked up at him, tears perched on your eyelids.

“Do not freak out on me.” He chastized with a smile, “I need you there with me today, darlin’. You are going to be fine. Jocelyn is going to pretend you don’t exist and Jo is going to love you.”

“You think so?” You chewed on your thumbnail, your nervous tick, “I am no good with kids.”

Steady fingers under your chin lifted your gaze up to his, “If she loves you even half as much as I do, then you’ll be dragged off to play ‘princess tea party’ and have your ear talked off in no time.”

His sweet comments warmed your heart, but you were still nervous.

Sensing your hesitation, Leonard leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a soft, gentle, reassuring kiss and it made you melt on the inside. Pulling away, he looked deeply into your eyes and thumbed your cheek softly.

“And I think I have a solution to your dress problem.” A smirk played on his lips as he backed away and walked over to the closet.

“What are you doing?” You asked skeptically.

“I had a feeling you were going to freak out, so I decided to have a back-up plan just in case.” He swung the closet doors open and produced a long black clothing bag.

“No. You didn’t.” You glared at him.

“Oh I did, darlin’.” His smirk was devilish as he laid the bag on the bed and unzipped it.

The black bag fell away and Leonard pulled out a long length of blue fabric. Your jaw nearly hit the floor and a gasp escaped you as you drew the dress through your fingers. The fabric was cool and smooth, and the colour of the the deep ocean, a beautiful blue. You couldn’t tell much about the shape of it by the way Leonard was holding it, but you knew it was going to be gorgeous. You snatched it from his hands and hugged it to your chest for a second before dashing towards the bathroom to try it on.

“Hey, whoa, just slip it on out here, I want to see it.” Leonard called as he took a few steps in pursuit after you.

“No, no, I need to do my hair and makeup before I can get into this.” You turned towards him.

“We have to leave in...” He checked his watch, “20 minutes.”

“You really want to be on time for your ex-wife’s wedding?” You sassed, eliciting an especially exasperated look from Leonard.

He huffed and grumbled, “No. Now get goin’. You have half an hour.” He warned and his hand came down on your ass as you turned, the smack making you jump and giggle as you dashed quickly into the bathroom.

40 minutes later you were ready, much to Leonard’s annoyance.

You applied the last of your makeup to a chorus of “Let’s go, darlin’.” and “How long does it take to do your damn hair?” and “The car’s waiting outside.”

“Alright, quit your whinin’, I’m done, ya lunatic.” You cut him off mid-whine and rolled your eyes.

“Thank god.” He grumbled, making you scowl at the still-closed door and you touched up your lipstick for a few extra seconds just to spite him.

Smoothing your hands over the dress you looked at yourself in the mirror, letting out a deep breath. You could do this. The dress was absolutely stunning. When you had slipped it on you had gasped again at the beauty of it. Leonard outdid himself. The dress was a carribean blue, you’d decided, the fabric flowy and smooth as it drifted towards your feet. The top was a little more fitted, with straps that sat on your shoulders as well as fluttery, loose straps that fell down off-the-shoulder. You had left your hair down, but pinned a few pieces up to frame your face, and your makeup was light but pretty.

Finally, as you stared at yourself in the mirror, you began to relax. This was going to be fine.

You slipped out the door without warning Leonard and stepped out silently to see him turned away from you, adjusting the wrists of his jacket. You took the time to admire the way the fitted white jacket contrasted against his tanned skin, the cut of it angular and interesting and it suited him amazingly. But it was the tight, high-waisted black pants, with a gold stripe down the side that really got you. Damn those legs. You inhaled sharply, which got his attention and he turned his head towards you.

Now it was his turn to go wide-eyed and admire you. His eyes raked up and down your body, admiring the dress that he had chosen for you, and you gave him a teasing smile.

“Wow...” He breathed, his hands falling to his sides, “Darlin’, you look... wow.”

You smiled big for him and gave him a little twirl before sweeping up to him, your dress swishing around your ankles.

“The dress is amazing, Len, thank you so much.” You whispered, running your thumbs under the lapels of his jacket before looking up at him.

Leonard’s hands smoothed over your back, sliding over the fabric, “You’re welcome. But I might have dug myself into a hole because you look damn gorgeous in that dress, I don’t know how I am going to keep my hands to myself all night.”

His breath tickled your face and you laughed as he leaned in to kiss you.

“You know, it’s bad luck to kiss the bride’s ex-husband’s girlfriend before the wedding.”

By the time you got to the venue, you were nearly an hour late, and you strode through the parking lot towards the almost castle-like building. The venue was upsettingly beautiful. And the weather was perfect.

You squinted in the beating sunlight to take in the caste, the stonework intricate and detailed, the grass surrounding the building green and fresh, and the gardens were magnificent.

Leonard’s body stiffened. The arm he had slung around your waist tightened and his fingers skimmed the bottom of your ribs, making you jump a little. You protested with a grunt but then your eyes found the source of Leonard’s sudden hesitation.

A limousine had pulled up and a woman in a white dress was climbing out with the help of an older man in a tux. That must be Jocelyn, you thought, taking one glance at the helpless look on Leonard’s face and knowing you were right.

You reached over and tugged on the bottom of his suit jacket, “Len, c’mon, don’t panic.” You tried to lead him towards the church but he stayed frozen, his arm falling from your waist.

A pang of pain for him hit your heart and you wondered what he was thinking, seeing Jocelyn in a wedding dress again, this time not for him.

Entwining your fingers with his, you tugged at his arm, “Hey, Len, I know you’re freaking out right now but I think it would be really tacky for the ex-husband and his girlfriend to walk into the church at the same time as the bride.”

He finally looked over at you, his eyes sad, and you stroked his hand with your thumb, giving him a small empathetic smile. He took a deep breath and nodded, and you walked hand in hand together into the church.

“Who’s dumb idea was this?” You whispered nervously to Leonard as you found two seats near the end of a row in the middle of the church.

“Uhhh... yours?” Leonard raised an eyebrow, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you settled into your seats that were right next to the aisle.

The inside of the castle was even more gorgeous than the outside, the sanctuary laid with a dark navy carpet, the ceilings high and arched, with beautiful architecture. The aisle was lined with white and blue flowers, and at the end of the aisle was the most beautiful arrangement of while lilies, blue hydrangeas, and strings of green ivy that you had ever seen. You suddenly felt self-conscious in your blue dress, a little mad that you matched the wedding colours, but you didn’t have much time to pout as the music started and the wedding began.

Bridesmaids and groomsmen glided down the aisle, dressed in colours that matched the theme, dark blues, dark greens and whites, followed by the flower girl. The girl’s dark hair and furrowed brows made you look twice, as you knew that face, the child looking so similar to her father that you almost laughed. That must be Joanna, you thought, and again Leonard’s hand tightening around yours confirmed your suspicions. Joanna had on a sweet white dress, her dark hair pinned back with tiny blue flowers, and she was tossing white flower petals out of her little basket, looking rather grumpy at the task at hand.

Then, suddenly, her head tilted up, her eyes finding Leonard in the crowd and her face broke into a smile.

“Daddy!” She screeched, dropping the basket to run over to Leonard, who instantly released your hand to embrace his daughter.

The room filled with a chorus of laughs and “awwws” but you could hear Leonard chiding his daughter’s behaviour as he let her go quickly.

“Jo-bean, sweetheart, you need to keep walking.” He whispered, wiping a few loose strands of hair out of her face.

“No, I want to stay with you.” She pouted and crossed her arms.

Leonard leaned down to look her in the eye, “Joanna McCoy, you have a very important job to do here. I will see you after, alright?” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, right between her furrowed brows.

“Okay.” She huffed and stomped back to her basket, now throwing the flower petals rather roughly as she made her way down the aisle, eliciting another laugh from the guests.

When Joanna finally made it down the aisle, the music changed, all of the guests standing to watch the bride enter. Jocelyn looked absolutely stunning in her wedding dress, it was fitted perfectly and flared out at the bottom, brushing elegantly across the ground. Her veil was pinned to the back of her head and spread out behind her beautifully, and she looked gorgeous as she glided down the aisle, her arm in her father’s.

Leonard was unreadable as he watched Jocelyn, his hands folded in front of him, and you wished he would reach for your hand, just to know that he still knew you were there.

The ceremony was exceptional, the vows were beautiful and you saw many a guest wipe at their eyes. They really did look in love, but you found it hard to concentrate on anything but Leonard sitting silently beside you, eyes forward, hands in his lap. Emotions cycled through you as you watched his profile.

You’d never been the kind of girl who thought about her wedding. You assumed it would happen one day, but honestly it made you panic. To be tied to another person for your whole life? You would take a murderous alien with a phaser over that any day.

But sitting here, listening to the lovely vows, seeing the sparkle in their eyes as they looked at each other, made you want it. Made it less scary. And you quickly realized why. Because of Leonard. Because you wanted this with him. But something made your breath hitch in your chest and your fear grow at the thought of marrying him. He had already done this. He had done the wedding thing and the marriage thing and the kid thing. How could you ever compare?

So lost in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed Leonard’s gaze slip to yours until you felt a hand cover yours where it sat on your knee and warm fingers slotted themselves between yours. A feeling of sureness shot through you, washing away all the fears you had, and if you could have proposed to him right then and there, you would have, but instead you yanked your eyes back to the happy couple in front of you.

“Do you remember the time we all went paintballing?”

The entire table broke into a fit of laughter, and Leonard leaned back in his chair as he laughed, nearly tipping over his plate of food that was set in front of him.

You and Leonard had been assigned a dinner table with some of him and Jocelyn’s old friends, 3 other couples that had been a part of Leonard’s life when he was still married to Jocelyn. They had done nothing but exchange old memories and talked of their happy, civilized lives, and Leonard fit right in.

“Yeah and I got Jeff right between the eyes.” Leonard added, sending the table into a roar of laughter again.

You stabbed angrily at the last of the potatoes on your plate, feeling very disheartened and ignored throughout the entire dinner. You hadn’t said a word the entire time.

The dining hall was a gorgeous ballroom draped in gold chandeliers, navy table cloths, and beautiful flowers. The far wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to vast green rolling hills, the sun beginning to stream through, maybe an hour from setting. A balcony sat just outside the windows, and you longed to go out there, to be separated from the torture that was this dinner, all the talk of happy married life and kids and things you had no idea about.

Dinner soon came to an end and Jocelyn and her new husband made their rounds to different tables, saying their hellos and thank yous, both carrying an impenetrable smile on their faces. People milled about now, anxious for the transition from dinner to dancing, and those who had just a little too much liquid courage started dancing despite the lack of music. You stood next to Leonard, sipping on your champagne, desperately wishing for something stronger as he continued to chat with some old friends.

Then, the moment you dreaded since you had agreed to accompany Leonard to the wedding finally arrived.

“Leonard, thanks so much for coming.” You heard a smooth voice and saw the swish of a white dress approach and wrap her arms around Leonard.

“Oh, it’s our pleasure, and the wedding’s beautiful, Jocelyn.” Leonard responded, and you stepped closer to his side to join the conversation, taking in the beautiful blonde before you.

“Thank you, it’s been really wonderful.” Jocelyn beamed, her perfect smile and bright blue eyes making you hate her more with every second you stared at them.

“Joce, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” Leonard finally turned to you, pushing you a little forward with a hand on your lower back.

“Hi.” She smiled and you took her hand, giving it a light shake, “Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure.” You managed, stepping back, your hackles raised, and threaded your arm through Leonard’s, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible.

Jocelyn turned back to Leonard, and she wrung her hands in front of her, “Lee, can we talk for a minute?”

You could have smacked her for calling him “Lee”, but Leonard’s arm tightening on yours held you back.

“Of course.” He nodded and pulled away from you, his voice calm and even, which felt like a stab to the heart.

You watched him walk away with Jocelyn, tears suddenly perching on your lids, and he didn’t even give you a backwards glance.

“Are you my new mommy?” A chirpy voice sounded from behind you, and something pulled at your dress lightly.

Turning, you saw a little dark haired form dressed in white, familiar brown eyes looking up at you expectantly. Joanna.

You sat down on the nearest chair so you were more level with her eyes, “What was that, sweetie?”

“Are you going to be my new mommy?” She asked again, her little lips pursing.

You regarded the girl, who looked so much like Leonard, and you shook your head, “No, Joanna, I’m not.”

“Everyone calls me Jo.” She corrected.

“Alright, Jo.” You nodded.

“Are you in love with my daddy?” Jo asked, her little fingers playing with the fabric of your dress, near your knee.

You chuckled, “I am, Jo, I love him a lot.” The words sent a rush of warmth through your chest that mixed with the pain of seeing Leonard walk away with Jocelyn.

“How do you know you love him?” She asked, and you met her quizical brown eyes.

The question stunned you into silence and you honestly didn’t know how to respond.

“Why do you ask?” You stuttered.

Jo look displeased that you didn’t answer her question, but she responded, “There’s this girl in my class, and I think I love her.”

“How do you know?” You asked seriously, trying hard not to smile at the sweetness and sincerity of the little girl’s confession.

“She’s really pretty, and I like it when she smiles.” She toed at the foot of the chair before continuing, “Her parent’s don’t have a lot of money, so she doesn’t have a lot of nice things, and sometimes she comes to school without a lunch, so I bring her things. Like an extra snack, or I get her a pencil when she needs it. And once I brought her a lipstick and she smiled so big I thought I was going to explode.”

You smiled softly at her now, at her innocent little crush, and felt your heart swell, “Well, Jo, I think you know exactly what love is.”

“Really?” Jo beamed and you nodded.

“Do you like seeing my daddy smile?” She asked, suddenly serious now and played with the bracelets that encircled your wrists.

“I do.” You responded.

“So that’s how you know you love him, silly.” Jo shook her head and giggled.

“I guess your right.” You nodded, the words hitting you right in your heart, and you tried to keep your emotions at bay in front of the little girl.

“I like your dress.” She said, returning her little hands to the fabric and pinching it with her fingers.

“Thank you. Actually, your daddy got it for me.”

“He did?” Her eyes went wide and you grinned.

“He did. And you know what? It made me smile.”

Jo giggled, “That must mean he loves you too!”

You shrugged playfully and giggled along with the girl, unable to say anything more as a lump in your throat made your words catch in your chest.

When you heard the balcony doors open and close behind you, you knew exactly who it was.

“There you are.” A familiar voice approached and you glanced back to see Leonard walking towards you, a smile on his face.

You didn’t return it and brought your eyes back to the rolling hills and setting pink and orange sky laid out before you.

“What are you doing out here? They’re just about to cut the cake.” Leonard moved to lean on the railing, perching slightly on the edge and facing you.

“Just needed some air.” You miffed, keeping your eyes on the horizon.

Leonard hummed in response and you stood in silence for a few minutes, the soft breeze rustling your dress and the fading sun soaking into your bare shoulders and arms.

You felt Leonard studying you from where he stood against the railing and you couldn’t decide whether you would rather push him over it or jump over it yourself.

“Personally, I think if we go, we go together.” Leonard mused, and you realized that you had spoken your thoughts out loud.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, still not having the strength to look him in the eye, “How have you been today? I know it must’ve been hard on you.”

Leonard squinted over at you for a split second, as if he could see right through your forced upbeat tone but seemed to ignore it as he responded, “It’s not been bad, actually. It’s hard seeing her so happy, when she’s broken my heart a million times, but I can’t help but feel happy for her. And I just can’t stop thinking about our wedding day. It was so similar to this, and she looks exactly the same.”

He huffed a laugh and smiled down into his hands, completely unaware of how his words tore into your heart.

“It makes me want to be here, to be a part of it, for Jo. Her mom get’s remarried and her dad is traipsing around the universe for years at a time. No one is here to help her deal with it, to help her through it, you know? She needs her dad.”

You nodded tersely, barely containing the tears of frustration that pressed at your eyes and formed a lump in your throat.

“That’s actually what Jocelyn wanted to talk about.” He continued, “Jo’s been stealing things, little things from home and school, like a pencil from the teacher’s desk or food from home, and even some of Joce’s makeup has gone missing. And I can’t help but feel partially responsible for that.”

“It’s not your fault.” You mumbled, picking at the stone railing with a fingernail.

“That’s awfully nice of you to say, darlin’, but this is textbook attention seeking behaviour...”

“No, Len, I talked to Jo, when you were off with ‘Joce’.” You started, not even trying to hide the malice in your voice, “She has a crush on this kid in her class who comes from a rough family who don’t have a lot of money, so Jo sneaks her things, little gifts to make her smile. It’s really quite sweet.”

“She said that?” He asked, his gaze searching.

“Yep.” You started, your tone flat, “Jocelyn should have talked to Jo first before making assumptions behind her back. She’s a really bright girl.”

When Leonard didn’t respond, you looked over to see him staring at you, dumfounded, and you just rolled your eyes and huffed.

“We should get back in there.” You turned and started towards the door, but his hand on your arm stopped you.

“Are you okay, Y/N? You seem bothered by something.” Leonard’s gaze was incessant and concerned on yours, “Is it something I said?”

“It’s nothing.” You brushed him off but his grip on your arm tightened, his eyes meeting yours firmly.

“Spit it out.”

A those three words you let a few tears fall.

You swiped at them furiously, ripping your arm from Leonard’s as your agitation and frustration began to build.

“Y/N, what is it?” Leonard’s voice was soft now, but he looked hurt at your sudden hostility.

“I never wanted the big wedding.” You blurted and immediately wanted to shove the words back into your mouth.

“What?” Leonard questioned, a look of complete confusion on his face.

You curled your fists at your side and pushed the frustrated tears back, “I never saw myself as a bride, period. Especially not with the big poofy dress and the flowers and the castle, it was never what I wanted. But seeing all this, being here with you, it makes me want it, no matter how big of an asshole you’ve been today.”

“An asshole... when have I-?” Leonard started defensively but you cut him off.

“You have ignored me all day. Ever since we saw Jocelyn step out of that limo I have been like a second thought to you, like you had to remember I was there, like I’m just some arm candy that you dragged along.” Your blood boiled in your veins and your breathing was ragged with anger, “And you have been watching her all day. Do you know how much that hurts? To know that she had you first, that you’ve done all this already, with her. You’ve done the wedding thing and the married thing and the kid thing. It makes me feel inferior, like sloppy seconds or something, and I know it’s stupid, but I’m jealous. I’m jealous that she got you first.”

You fiddled with the fabric of your dress, playing with it between your fingers as you tried to slow your breathing, calm the roar inside your brain, and Leonard waited patiently for you to continue.

“You are talking about all these things, all these past memories and I get it, I wasn’t part of your life then, but it’s the future stuff. It’s that stuff where you talk about moving back here, becoming a part of Jo’s life again and I have to wonder. What about me? Where do I fit into this equation? Even if you were just saying those things, it makes me feel invisible.” You felt the anger drip out of your veins, followed by a few more hot, frustrated tears that slid down your cheeks.

Your mind was reeling and it felt like your emotions were right beneath your skin, like you were translucent and he could see everything.

Silence. He gave you silence. The wind rustling the leaves and brushing through your dress were the only sounds, and you felt the air, cool on your damp cheeks as you stared at the ground, pressing back the sobs that were so close to escaping you.

Suddenly you couldn’t take it anymore. You had poured your heart out, showed him your true feelings through your translucent skin, and he had nothing to say. You turned to leave, picking up your dress and starting towards the balcony doors, defeat leaving your limbs feeling heavy and slow, like you were moving through molasses.

“I’d always thought we’d have a small wedding. A unique wedding. Like on a mountaintop, or in a barn, or even on the damn ship.” You froze in your tracks, and he chuckled softly, “but if you want a big wedding, sure, we can do that.”

His words were like strings, wrapped around your sluggish limbs, pulling you back to him, and you turned slowly, tucking your shaking hands behind your back.

“I’m not proposing now, don’t worry,” He continued, probably noting your wide eyes and hesitant stance, “but after, for our honeymoon, we could go somewhere warm and tropical, lay on the beach all day, or a cabin in the woods, away from everybody and everything else.”

Leonard took a sauntering step towards you and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

“And as for moving back here to be with Jo? If it ever happened, we would make it work. You would stay on the Enterprise because you do a brilliant job up there, love, and we would message, and call, and I would meet you wherever in the galaxy you had shore leave. Because, darlin’, you’re it for me.”

You couldn’t breathe, your breath stuttered in your lungs and your eyes glistened with new tears, these ones much more happy than before.

“You were my best friend for the longest time,” He pressed on, “and you helped me through some rough stuff, and I helped you through some rough stuff. And I watched you dive in and out of relationships, and you watched my marriage fall apart. I left you behind to go on away missions, and you left me behind to go on your own. We were two disasters thrown together. One great big ol’ mess.” He was close enough now that he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, “You are still my best friend, darlin’, but I wouldn’t go back for the world, because what lies ahead of us is miles better than all the crap we’ve left behind.”

Leonard thumbed at your cheek, ducking his head so you were forced to meet his eyes and he gave you a lopsided smile, “I can’t change the fact that you weren’t the first, but I can sure as hell make you my last.” He tilted your chin up with his thumbs, “So I’m telling you, you are it. You are it for me.”

He smiled softly down at you as a few tears tracked down your cheeks.

“I’m it.” You grinned, letting out a watery laugh.

“You’re it, darlin’.”

A smile pulled at your lips now, and you shook your head lightly, barely believing the words were coming out of his mouth, they felt more like a dream than reality. In a surge of happiness you dove up, pressing your lips to his firmly, your hands threading into the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer.

Leonard smiled under your lips and wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, drawing you to him, your feet almost leaving the ground, and you slid your arms up around his neck.

Then, all in one swift movement, Leonard swung you around, and before you knew it you had lifted your feet of the ground and you were spinning, You broke the kiss, letting out a screech of laughter as you clung to him, feeling Leonard’s chest rumble and his breath brush across your neck as he laughed along with you. Your dress swished wildly as you spun, the colours in the sunset sky blurring together as you threw your head back and reveled in the feeling of his arms holding you tightly to him.

Slowly he came to a stop, still pressing you against him, and you dropped your toes to the ground, leaning up quickly to capture his lips again, drawing him down by the back of his neck into a dizzying kiss. Or maybe you were just dizzy from all the spinning.

Heat spread up your spine and shoulders as his hands roamed your lower back, sliding over the slick fabric of the dress and barely brushing, teasing your bare skin. You pulled back, gasping, still trying to catch your bearings after the spinning, and your gaze caught on something in the glass of the door.

"There's a little face in the window." You giggled, and Leonard swung his head to see his daughter with her face pressed up against the glass.

As soon as Jo saw that she had been spotted, her eyes went wide and she dashed out from under the curtain and back into the hall, the curtain swinging back in her absence.

Leonard chuckled and groaned, leaning into you and pressing his forehead into the crook of your neck. You laughed and threw your arms around his neck, surprising him with the sudden hug. His arms slid around you snugly and you reveled in the tightness with which he embraced you.

"Uh oh." You laughed and Leonard pulled back, looking at you before following your gaze to the window again.

He shook his head and laughed at Jo who had returned, her little eyes peeping at from behind the curtain now, more discrete than before, but still visible.

"She's too smart for her own good." Leonard sighed, dropping his hands from your waist.

"Just like her daddy." You teased, fixing a lock of his hair that fell out of place.

He smirked playfully and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, "Guess I better go catch that little rascal."

He turned to go but stopped, your hand still in his and he drew back towards you, pulling your hand to his his mouth, the press of his warm lips making you blush.

"Darlin' I'm sorry about today. I will make it up to you, I promise.” He breathed, nuzzling your hand. “Are we okay?"

"We're okay." You nodded, drawing him quickly to you and pressing a quick kiss to lips.

Finally letting you go he turned and started towards the door, Jo's little eyes going wide again, but this time she didn't run away, just smiled as she saw her daddy approaching. Leonard swung the doors open, revealing Jo and the music of the hall flowed out into the retreating sunset.

"What do you think you're doing, little miss?" Leonard teased, looking down at his daughter.

Jo only giggled in response and played with a decal on her dress.

"You know how I have to punish you, you little peeping tom?" He knelt down so he was eye level with the little girl.

"How?" She asked sadly, her little lip pouting.

"With a tiCKLE ATTACK!!" Leonard yelled and reached for Jo who realized quickly what was going on and dashed away screeching, Leonard's hands missing her by inches.

You were left on the balcony, watching the love of your life, your best friend, the best father in the world, scoop up his little girl and laugh with her as he attacked her with tickles.

And you wondered how in the world you ever going to tame your messy heart.

-Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!-

Tags (I am tagging those who have requested to be tagged as well as those involved in the post about the uniforms and the original post about the laugh): @cacklecastiel @atari-writes @thevalesofanduin @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @lurkch @bkwrm523 @pan-da-sexual-oreo @whatif-animagineblog @outside-the-government @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @frostedej @daybreak96

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IF I FORGOT TO TAG ANYONE I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE KAITY IS AWFUL AT ORGANIZING AND THINKS THAT IT’S A GOOD IDEA TO WAIT TO COLLECT ALL THE TAG REQUESTS RATHER THAN WRITE THEM DOWN AS THEY COME IN.

#startrek #startrekimagine #startrekfic #bonesxreader #sequel #messy #leonardmccoyxreader #leonardmccoyfluff #bonesfluff #drleonardmccoy

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