#;; but I have to hope that my other volumes are still safe wherever they are :')

[abrasife]

@unladielike * ✶ ❪ cont. from here┊☓ ❫

Prepared to turn around and leave since he had picked up Rachael's manga, Keith was pretty much ready to put this conversation to a close, especially since it seemed his apology fell on deaf ears for a good few (too long) seconds. If anything, he was quite resigned to have yet another attempt at forming friendships go down the drain. When would the pattern change anyway? He'd muck it up the moment he slipped out of being overly cautious and apprehensive about what he chose to share. Being honest hardly ever went in his favor. He was getting tired of the feeling of having to constantly apologize for nearly every outburst like this.

Then, Vivian finally broke the silence, accepting his apology with a sigh. Visibly baffled, the boy froze in his tracks like a deer in headlights as the girl browsed the shelf of shoujo titles. Breaking out of his disbelief, Keith tucked his book underneath his arm. He didn't think... he'd get this far. What was he even supposed to say to recovery from the sheer awkwardness that was salvaging a conversation like this?

❝ If it helps, I do this to almost everyone, siblings and family included, ❞ Keith replied in a low volume, unsure if the comment would actually make her feel better.

He turned his attention to the row of books in front of him, hoping that the art and the act of browsing would relief him of his apprehension. Was there a series he'd want to study the art of? Even if he wasn't super fond of the writing, the art was something to admire in ways with how detailed and cute it looked. It never hurt to expand his artistic horizons after all. It might make it easier to gain more clients as he dabbled more into digital art, considering many were into the anime and manga art styles.

At her question, he looked towards her with confusion on his face, only for his expression to shift immediately when he realized the misunderstanding, ❝ Oh, uh, both my sisters are older than me, ❞ he corrected her, ❝ and like I said before, Rachael likes these sorts of things—helps her feel happy. ❞

Noticing a thick volume of manga—an omnibus edition—that had an appealing title, Keith carefully pulled it off the shelf, flipping it over to the back side to read the summary—a cute cooking manga featuring a youthful female protagonist looking for the owner of a special spoon at a prestigious academy. As he opened the back pages, he saw a small collection of cooking recipes, igniting his interest immensely. Okay, he had to grab this one!

Keith scanned the shelves for the other volumes in the series, but it seemed that he would be unlucky in that regard. Maybe it was luck that he stumbled upon this considering how much older it was compared to these new releases on the shelf.

❝ I didn't realize there was cooking series like this, but I got to find the other volumes in this one and try out all the recipes. , ❞ he spoke aloud, not really sure how else to streamline his thoughts into the conversation. He briefly glanced back at Vivian, unsure if he should really ask her considering how she had mentioned shoujo wasn't her thing, ❝ Err, do you know of any other places I could potentially find the rest of this— ❞ Keith flipped the omnibus manga to the front cover to confirm the title, ❝ —'Kitchen Princess' series? ❞ If it wasn't obvious, he wasn't exactly a manga or book buyer connoisseur.

[galaxyedging]

Jack Daniels x reader

WC: 710

Warnings: Father's Day angst.

Promise

The sun warmed your face as it slipped through the curtains. The stars were too beautiful for you to cover up last night as you struggled to fall asleep. The apprehension of what today you bring buzzing under your skin.

Jack was at your back, an arm lax over your waist, seemingly unmoved since it wrapped around your restless form at 3am. The clock read 7am. Way too early to be up on a sleepy Sunday. Half an hour later, your bladder began to protest at your attempt at pretending to be asleep. Jack stirred as you slipped from the bed. His 'good morning' lacked his usual cheer.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. There was no whistling from Jack as he cooked. He hadn't even bothered with the radio. 

You didn't notice either of those things until you were halfway through picking at your pancakes. "How about some music?"

The radio sang to life as you turned up the volume. An ad for a car dealership rang out as you returned to the table. Just as you decided to push the plate away from you, a familiar song sent a shiver through you. Who's going to drive you home tonight?

Jack noticed straight away. "What is it?"

"This song reminds me of my dad." You tried to shrug it off but Jack's hand stilled your shoulders. 

"I'm sorry, Sugar." His reassurance made you feel safe enough to let the tears gathering in your eyes fall. 

"I'm sorry. I know today must be hard for you." You tried your best to wipe the tears away, suddenly feeling foolish for crying when Jack had been through the same loss as you as well as a much more painful one.

"It'd be harder without you here, Darling." Sitting back in his seat next to you, he pulled you into his lap. "So why does that song remind you of your dad? Was it one of his favourites?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I just have a strong memory of him driving me home one night with that song playing. Maybe because it went together it stuck in my head. I don't have many memories of him."

"What others do you have?" He pulled you in tighter, his hand finding yours and intertwining his fingers with yours.

"The smell of dirt and coal. He was always working with his hands. He would do jobs for anyone. He used to use detergent on his hands to scrub it all off." 

"Huh, just like you showed me when we painted this place."

"Yep. I remember him cooking for me and my mom. The sound of his heartbeat as I snuggled into his chest."

Sobs welled up from where you had pushed everything down. 

"Hey. Hey. You're okay." Jack gently rocked you in his lap. "My daddy taught me how to ride. How to shoot. How to make all types of fires that would burn wherever you needed them. One's buried in the ground so the smoke wouldn't billow. One's that would burn in a storm. He taught me how to survive." Jack smiled to himself. "And to whistle. The man loved music but he had no talent for it. He couldn't hold a tune in a bucket!"

The two of you shared a laugh at that. "Neither can I. That's why I learned to play the guitar. Women love a musician. I started learning to play some lullabies for my boy…I wasn't going to put him through listening to my singing."

"I'm sure he would have loved them all the same." You leaned your forehead against his catching the gleam of tears in his eyes.

"Thank you." His moustache scratched your cheek as he pressed a kiss there. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I may have lost a lot but I found something special too. You're the reason  I'll get through this hard day and every one after. If you let me, I'll be here for all your hard days too."

"You promise?" You asked with a child like hope.

You knew all too well that no one could promise anyone their tomorrows but if anyone could give it a damn good go at delivering, it would be your Jack.

"Promise." He agreed, pressing his lips to your wedding ring.

You may not have enough memories of your father to keep him alive, but like Jack, he would be forever etched into your heart.

@kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie @faceache111 @elegantduckturtle @manazo @simpingcowboy @pedrit0-pascalit0 @yourcoolauntie @pedrostories @geekrenaissance

[maxbegone]

happy sunday! i hope it's a lovely fall day wherever you are, and i hope that the week ahead is good to you. here's not-seven sentences:

Los Bastardos have a mission.

Raf is already on the porch waiting when Alex steps out into the freezing morning air, bundled up tightly as he gets out a somewhat-groggy greeting. A thermos is shoved into his hands as Oscar walks around the side of the house with three rifles on his back and three axes in his hands, sharp and at the ready.

“Y’all ready?��� He asks, beaming in the blue-grey light.

They hop into Raf’s truck and make the drive a mile south of the property line and into the forest.

“Mom’s on watch this morning,” Alex says as he turns the volume up on his walkie. It chirps, and he clicks it twice in a test. “She said to give her a holler when we’re heading back

“What happens if I crush one of you fuckers?” Raf asks into his thermos as Alex and Oscar both laugh.

“She’ll string you up if it’s Alex,” Oscar says as he drives. “Me? She might fuckin’ kiss ya.”

“Fuck, there it is.”

“Y’all have gotten better,” Alex tells him. “You’re better than before this mess. I swear I never hear you fighting.”

“Silent fights are still fights,” Oscar explains. “But yeah, we have gotten better. I guess livin’ with your ex, her new husband and your kids fares well when it comes to surviving the apocalypse. And Leo’s less of a candy ass than I realized.”

“Safe to say that’s fair given the fact that we wouldn’t be here without him.”

“Yeah.” His dad trails off for a moment. “Your mom’s always gonna be the love of my life, mijo. Because of her, I’ve got you and June.”

“If we’re doing heartfelt this morning, I’m doing a tuck and roll out of this car with the intention of screwing up my other leg,” Raf mildly threatens.

Oscar mumbles something under his breath and hits a few buttons on the stereo until a dreaded cassette rolls and La Bamba starts to play. Alex bangs his fist on the roof of the truck twice and whoops as they continue south.

They park in a clearing and sit on the flatbed passing bags of tamales and tetelas back and forth until the sun fully rises. Alex downs the rest of his dirt tea and listens happily to his dad and Raf talk shit about when they worked together years back. In another time, the three of them would’ve taken the states by storm in politics and law. 

Eventually, they head several paces up as they begin their search. It’s not meticulous by any means — they’re really just trying to find a tree that’s full and can fit through the doorway and comfortably in the living room without pulling a Clark Griswold.

“How’s this one?” Alex calls over his shoulder as he measures up a nine foot tall balsam fir. It’s full and looks sturdy enough not to tip over in the tree stand.

Raf sidles up to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as Oscar circles it. “Think it’s good, kid.”

“Not a single gap,” Oscar announces as he comes back around. “No dead spots. I think we have ourselves a winner, boys. Get your axes and your asses ready.”

It takes two hours of rigorous chopping for the tree to finally come down, all three cheering as it crashes to the forest floor with a heavy thud. Alex cuts it even on the trunk with a handsaw and soon enough, they’re tying it to the flatbed.

“This,” Raf announces from where he’s reaching halfway through the passenger window, “calls for a celebration.” He procures a scratched-up flask, unscrews it, and takes a long pull, letting out a tight breath. “Hoo, that’s good.”

Oscar takes a drink, then Alex, and the familiar taste of shiner warms him from the inside out.

“Can’t believe I didn’t have to beg someone this time,” Alex says.

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause last time you two actually behaved yourselves,” Oscar replies, gesturing between the two of them. “Now, if either of y’all start getting into a debate, I’m taking our shit and leaving you here to walk back through the snow.”

Alex takes another sip. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll behave, Dad.”

Oscar snorts. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter forty-two // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary:  While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 3.5k warnings for this chapter: assholery?

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Notes: damn they got my money 😂😂😂

Chapter Forty-Two:

Nothing particularly grand or exciting happens when we leave. He didn’t bother taking us back upstairs where we’d have to say our goodbyes. He’d just taken my arm at the bottom of the stairs and blew through one of the kitchen exits. If there’d been an incantation to release the alarm spell, I didn’t hear it. Which is a shame because it’d be real handy next time we’re here.

The hour is late and I’m grateful that when we get back to the cottage, Caelan is waiting in his fluffy white cat form at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I coo and scoop him up in my arms. Still holding him, I kick off my flats by the heel. Thomus doesn’t bother removing his velvet oxfords, but stands by the door, looking at me with his eyes narrowed and thin lips pursed.

“What?” I ask, because it looks like he’s got something to say. When he doesn’t respond, I sigh heavily and roll my eyes. I take Caelan upstairs with me and close my bedroom door.

I set him down on the bed. “Shh,” I whisper. “Let me put on a movie before you say anything. It should drown our talking out.”

I dig through the bin of movies and pull out Disney’sAladdin. Turning the volume up with the remote, I go to close the bathroom door as well. When I turn around, Caelan is human again, perched on a corner of the bed.

“We should still whisper through, just in case,” I say, joining him. “How’s George?”

Caelan shrugs. “Still passed out. How was ah… wherever it was ye went?”

“Cliveden. Jacob Astor’s house. He’s an American whose trying to please the Death Eaters and by connection, Voldemort.”

He scoffs. “I was waiting for the Americans to get involved.”

My eyes go to the small TV and I wonder how much I should tell him about what I learned tonight. I have no idea if Will and Kyle are actual allies or if it’s a ruse for their own motives. I want to trust Kyle because it’ll give me more purpose, but he hasn’t proved that what he says is true.

“Have you heard anything from the International Confederation of Wizards?” I ask.

He looks at me with a curious tilt to his head. “What do you mean?”

“Like have they made public their thoughts about this whole thing?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been reading many newspapers lately. Haven’t the time.”

I shrug. “It’s alright.”

I think I’m going to tell him about the Death Eaters intentions for international sex-trafficking, but I’m going to wait until George is awake. It’s not a conversation I want to have twice. His attention has gone to the TV while I’m lost in thought. I watch a few minutes with him before breaking the silence.

“So you guys were helping families escape?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking back to me. “Been that way for a while now. Helping scared families get to France or Ireland – anywhere really.”

“So is Voldemort isn’t trying to take over other countries? There are safe places?”

“Not quite,” he frowns. “He definitely has his forces taking down governments. Last I’d heard from Angelina Italy had fallen and Switzerland wasn’t that far behind.”

“Angelina… Johnson?” I ask. “Wasn’t she a Lot?”

He nods. “Aye, until George rescued her.”

“How did they get around the tattoos?”

His eyes drop to my left arm where it’s propping me up. “I doona think yer gonna like the answer to that.”

I just sigh. So it’s as I’d feared. Damn.

“She had to lose it,” I supply.

“Aye,” he says. “Really tore George up to do it. But if ye ask me, I think she looks like a badass.”

I laugh once, my eyes on the TV again. “I can only imagine.”

Banging on the bedroom door startles us both.

“Turn that shit down,” Thomus barks from the other side. I fumble for the remote and turn the volume down. When I glance at him, Caelan had quickly phased back to his cat. I wait to hear more from Thomus, but instead of his voice, I just hear his bedroom door close. I give Caelan a shrug and reach out to stroke his back.

“Should probably try to sleep anyway.” I shove myself into my nest of blankets and pillows, settling down to fall asleep watching the movie. I’m turned on my side and Caelan jumps up onto my hip. He’s purring, his eyes on the TV, too.

~*~

Luckily Thomus is gone in the morning and I waste no time hiking myself up to the attic to check on George. It’s almost been 24 hours. Caelan had beat me there and is helping George to a sitting position by the time I’ve clambered up.

George narrows his eyes at me and gives Caelan a confused look. “Where did you say we were?”

“Uh, I didn’t,” Caelan replies, side-eyeing me.

George looks at him expectantly, but when Caelan doesn’t respond, his eyes go to me, dropping to my arm. I’d changed out of the dress from last night, so my t-shirt doesn’t hide the tattoo. I move my arm to hide the name on it, but apparently I’m too slow because his eyes widen.

“Don’t freak out,” I say, a sheepish smile on my face. “You’re completely safe here.”

“Why would you bring me here?” George hisses towards Caelan.

Caelan sighs. “This place was close and I knew t’was safe. Ye were in bad shape, mate. Still are.”

“How much pain are you in?” I ask. “I can give you more of that pain potion, but less so you don’t pass out again.”

George’s long limbs shift under the blanket draped over him. He can’t hide his pained expression. “A bit,” he admits.

I slide closer and hold out a full vial I’d brought with me. “I’d recommend taking it in quarter doses. We only gave you the full dose so you’d be knocked out for the roughest part of your healing.”

He nods and swallows the dose. “Right.”

“I checked him before ye got up here,” Caelan says. “His bones have mostly grown back, but the flesh still has some work. I need to go out and see if I can find some more Essence of Dittany.”

“Let me check to see if we have any,” I pipe in, already moving towards the hole in the floor. I pause with my feet dangling. “You guys want any food? There’s still stew left.”

“Absolutely,” chimes Caelan immediately. I get a hesitant “sure” from George.

The only place in the cottage I’d think to look for Essence of Dittany is Thomus’ room. If I can get away with sneaking in and out, then I’m going to consider myself lucky.

His door is slightly ajar and briefly squeaks when I push in. His bed is hastily made, wardrobe open, clothes strewn about inside. As per usual, there’s nothing I can see that’s of any interest. He doesn’t keep anything of sentimental value here like pictures or favorite books.The Seven and a Quarter Deaths of Professor Aliceis the only exception, still tucked one of his nightstands.

When I don’t see what I’m looking for upon my first scan of the room, I drop to my knees and look under the bed. I easily find his wooden medical box from he healed my arm next to the crate of alcohol. The bottles inside clink as I slide it out in front of me. Thankfully, the man has the vials properly labeled, and I’m bolting out with the Essence of Dittany before the scent of his room starts to get to my head.

I return to the attic with two bowls of steaming stew. I levitate them up so I don’t have to juggle as I climb through the ceiling. George looks at me with surprise as the bowl floats into his open hands.

Caelan accepts his bowl eagerly. He really enjoyed it yesterday, so it’s no surprise he doesn’t wait long before shoveling it in. He catches George’s expression.

“She thinks she’s becomin’ immune to the suppression potion,” he says, his mouthful shoved into his cheek so he can talk.

“That’s… convenient.” George hasn’t touched his spoon yet, but reluctantly does when Calean reminds him Essence of Dittany needs nutrition to work properly.

I sit on the floor behind the wall of boxes and bins designed to be a hiding space. Quietly, I wait for them to get through half their food before I start asking questions.

“So,” I start, my voice soft, “what happened, exactly, at Dover? With the raid? I never found out.”

Caelan puts his spoon down, his expression sad as he looks at me. George just stares into his bowl.

Caelan clears his throat. “We’d started moving people out. Slowly, in small groups. We were waiting for the que for the last group, but that’s when they began their raid. We all fought, but they chased us to Dover. The beach. We had boats waiting to take us past the Anti-Apparition line.”

I tried to connect their sullen faces with anything that he’d just said. It sounded like it went well to me. “So you all got out? That’s good, right?”

“My brother’s dead,” George mutters, glowering at me now. I shift, uncomfortable with his ire seemingly directed at me. My eyebrows come together and I know my lip curls in sympathy.

“Your twin?” I whisper.

He snorts. “Yeah, he’s dead, too, but no. Fred died at Hogwarts and Charlie was killed on the beach at Dover.”

“I’m so sorry,” I say and I mean it.

“Right,” he mutters again, his eyes dropping back to his bowl.

“I saw Ron a few days ago,” I say, choosing to leave out the part where I saw him getting beat up. “And as far as I know Ginny’s alive.”

My chest twists with the memory of when I last saw her, an unsettling feeling in my gut knowing she’s probably not doing any better than that.

“She’s Voldemort’s favorite toy, last I heard,” George sneers, his lip curling in disgust.

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” I murmur.

The George in front of me is nothing like the brother that Ron talked about. He was chalk full of stories of all the shit they got up to growing up. Mainly that they were always good for a laugh. Easily believable when I’d visited their store myself while working down the street from it. I’d felt like a kid in a toy store.

Is there anyone coming out of this alive and unscathed?

George quickly downs the rest of the stew and uncaps the pain potion vial. He talks to Caelan. “Can you use the Essence of Dittany on me when I’m asleep? That shit stings.”

“Sure, mate,” Caelan says and we both watch as George takes half the vial and settles into his sleeping mat.

It’s not long before he’s out cold and I pull out the Essence of Dittany to give to Caelan. I turn my eyes away as he applies the potion to George’s splinched wounds.

“Did you know Charlie?” I ask. He’d seemed just as affected talking about Dover as George did.

“Em, I did actually,” he says, his back to me momentarily before he settles back to where he was. “I worked with him in Romania.”

“Didn’t he work with dragons?”

Caelan smiles. “Aye. We both did. It’s why the Snatchers were after me.”

I frown. “Oh.” It’s hard to imagine someone as lanky as Caelan would be able to handle dragons. For Charlie it made more sense, he’d been built like a football player. “Why were you up here, then? Wouldn’t it have been easier to avoid them down there?”

He shrugs. “They… came down there for me. Well, the Death Eaters came first.”

“What? Why?”

He smirks. “Believe it or not, but yer looking at the only Wizard who’s managed to control a dragon with the imperious curse.”

My eyes widen and my jaw drops. “You’re shitting me. How?”

“The big devils are a lot like cats,” he says simply and winks at me.

~*~

Caelan spends the next few hours getting drilled by me on how exactly he’d managed to use an Unforgivable on a dragon. It’s super interesting and all I can think about is how it’d make for a great article for theDaily Prophet.

After a while I excuse myself back downstairs for a bowl of the stew for myself, and to start on the dishes I’d left the day before. Then after that exhausting ordeal, I find myself in my room again, tucked into bed with another movie on. This time it’s9 to 5.

Half way through the movie, Caelan comes and joins me. He’s in his fluffy white cat form and he settle on my chest, purring once more. It’s honestly nice that he’s so comfortable with me. I love dogs, but I’ve always been a cat person.

I think at some point during the movie, Thomus comes back. I’d left my bedroom door open for Caelan and so when I hear Thomus thump his way up the stairs. I ignore him and focus on the movie, not willing to hide my giggles and laughter.

~*~

I wake with a start a few hours later, and when I realize I’d been dreaming, I nearly cry with relief. It had been a terrible dream. Kneeling in front of Thomus, naked, and his focus had been entirely on my body. I knew exactly what he saw, and his cruel, disgusted reaction confirmed everything I’d already known to be true. It made my chest ache with shame and I knew I was crying. So, waking up, realizing that that hadn’t actually happened, I feel the rush of pure relief.

I’d also managed to make myself a sweaty mess. Caelan had moved to the corner of the bed, so I don’t disturb his sleep when I crawl out to take a shower.

As nice as the hot shower is, it’s affects are completely ruined when as soon as I come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a skimpy towel, Thomus is banging on my door.

“Are you fucking alive in there?” he gripes from the other side.

“One fucking second, I was in the shower,” I snap back. I don’t have time to throw on clothes without the fear of him barging in on me. So I grab one of the quilts from the bed and wrap it around my shoulders, making sure I’m covered before dropping the towel. Plus, Caelan’s awake and his piercing blue eyes are watching the scene unfold.

Finally I yank open the door, finding Thomus shirtless, his pants unbuttoned like he’d been about to take them off. He’s got a muscular arm casually braced against the door frame. He doesn’t hold back a snicker when he takes in my appearance.

“What?” I demand, clinging to the door and to the blanket around my shoulders.

He brings his other arm up to grip the door frame and my eye follow the movement, traitorously glancing down over his beautifully naked torso. His snicker transitions to a smirk before he speaks.

“Might as well have worn nothing at all,” he says. “I’ve seen it all before, haven’t I?”

I take deep breaths to keep my reaction measured. My reply is calm. “And you’ll never see it again.”

His smirk vanishes and he leans harder into his grip, both hands now holding the door frame. It’s replaced by a scowl.

“Is it because they’re American?” he asks.

I blink. “What?”

“Hoffman and Goldman. Is that the basis of your attraction? Because you relate to them?”

My jaw drops and I give him an incredulous look. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “None of my business?”

“As long as they pay you for my time, does it really matter? Whether it’s Galleons or Sprinks, money is money.” My voice is cold and my wet hair dripping onto my neck makes me shiver.

His jaw clenches and he narrows his eyes at me. “It’s remarkable how you’ve chosen to spread your legs for anyone offering you attention.”

“So it’s my fault that after getting fucked – and not metaphorically for the first time in my life, I’m not supposed to want more?” I huff, irritated, but also hurt.

He bristles, but doesn’t say anything. I know I just took a nap, but fuck, this is making me tired.

“You needed alust potionto actually sleep with me,” I say, point blank. I swallow around the sudden tightness in my throat. “You don’t get to be jealous when I kiss other men.”

Thomus drops his hands from the frame and balls his fists, taking an advancing step toward me before stopping himself. His eyes bore angrily into mine.

“I don’t like sharing mytoyswith other men,” he growls.

“But you’re happy to spank me and humiliate me in front of them?” I throw back.

He sneers at me. “You can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy being put on display and shown your place.”

“Neither could you apparently,” I say with a tilt of my head. “Where was your lust potion then? Or did I justimaginethat your dick was hard?”

“Your wet cunt certainly wasn’t a part ofmyimagination,” he snaps, “when my hand left your arse red nor when your mouth had been slobbering all over my cock.”

I roll my eyes and groan. “God fucking forbid I get horny or have any sort of sexual desires. You think I want to feel this way for someone who hates me?”

His eyes are intense as the question hangs in the air in the sudden silence between us.

My grip tightens on the quilt where its clutched near my chest. “Like I said last night, I will go through whatever I have to in order to survive this fucking nightmare. You can call me a toy or a whore, I don’t care. It’s all an act, it’s all for show. You’d know what that’s like better than anyone.”

For an instant the anger leaves his face and his eyes widen until they’re almost round. But then he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before returning to his angry expression.

He pokes a finger at me. “If I find you kissing another man, I will not hesitate to chain you to a dog kennel in the backyard like the bitch in heat you are.”

My eyes involuntarily widen and I take deep breaths to control the hurt that wants to break out all over my face.

He either doesn’t see it or he’s choosing to ignore my expression as he drops his hand and digs through his pants pocket. He holds out a suppression potion, but I don’t take it, just stare at it.

“You forget that all of this is a privilege,” he says and our eyes meet again. “The music, the television, the books – the very bed you sleep on. All that’s required to maintain these privileges is obedience.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You’re acting like I’m the one who chose this. I didn’taskto be here. You’re the one who bought me.”

“That fact is irrelevant.”

“Sure,” I bite out. He holds the vial out to me again and reluctantly I shift the quilt around until I can push my hand out without giving him a peep show. Unfortunately, without it being pulled taut, it falls around my shoulders.

“Merlin, it’s like you do this on purpose,” Thomus grumbles, pushing away the hand reaching for the vial. He steps forward, pulling out the stopper, and pushes his hand underneath my jaw. He tilts my head back and his thumb pulls at my lower lip.

I take the hint and open my mouth. My body’s reminding me that the only thing separating my naked form from his partially naked – warm – body from mine is a poorly held quilt. My chest rapidly rises and falls, both in desire for him and absolute terror of him seeing me naked again. Thomus grabbing under my jaw to tip the contents of the vial into my mouth both intimidates me and makes me wet.

When he releases me and steps back, I quickly shut the door. My hand is at my throat, and I press my hot forehead against the cool wood.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get fucked by someone else. Maybe if I can find someone else who can make me feel this way then my betraying body won’t long for him as much as it does. Someone who can make me forget all this pain.

Likes are wonderful, but to really help me out it'd be great if you reblogged this chapter or my masterlist! Also feel free to comment in the tags! 💕

[lexacoolfox]

How danganronpa characters act with kittens with their S/O.

Kazuichu Souda

I think he would like hanging out with kittens

I just think you would have to remind him to tone done his volume and excitement

You also have to tell him to be gentle with them

“Their so cute! I thought cats were just jerks. Looks like I was wrong!”

“Why did you think cats are jerks?”

“Well I see people talk or post about how cats are, kinda entitled or mean.”

“Hehehe well that can be true. Cats can be like that. It might be because of the breed or the way their raised. I should know I have had plenty of cats.”

“Ooh! Babe! How about we get a cat!”

“I don’t know you know their a big responsibility.”

“Please babe!”

“Fine I guess.”

“Aw thank you babe!”

“Which one should we get?”

“How about this one!”

“Yeah! What should his name be?”

“How about Garfield?”

“Basic.”

“Ok ok. Stripes?”

“Nah.”

“Ok.…Ginger!”

“I kinda like that name!”

“Ok, Ginger! Your coming home with us!”

You to leave the pet store with cat food, cat bed, a small scratching post, some toys, water and food bowl, litter box, and a collar that says ginger.

You guys absolutely adore the cat. He actually very well train, he uses the litter box, the scratching post, never scratches furniture.

When you get home from your part time job you find Kazuichu playing with the kitten or him petting it while it takes a nap on him.

Your friends were surprised that the two of you got a cat. Most of them thought Kazuichu was more of a dog person. He claims that he likes cat and dogs. But for now he had just a cat.

“Hey babe, thanks for letting me get ginger.”

“No thank you for convincing me to get ginger.”

“Hehehe, I love this little guy!”

“I just hope he doesn’t steal you away from me.”

“Of course not! I have enough love for both of you.”

“Good to know.”

Makoto Naegi

You guys decided to visit a friend who’s cat just had kittens. You guys just went to look at them but makoto got a little to attached to all the kittens.

“S/O do we have to go so soon!”

“Naegi we can’t stay here forever.”

“But their all so cute!”

“Naegi…”

“Oh come on! Just a little longer. Pleeeaassee!”

“Ok a little longer.”

25 minutes later...

“Naegi, my friend is saying we have to leave.”

“Nnnoooo!!!”

“Come on cutie let’s start getting ready to leave.”

“S/O how about we adopt them.”

The cat in question had 3 kittens.

“Naegi I don’t think that’s a good idea. If you didn’t know cats can be quiet a challenge to take care of. Not mentioning 3”

Your friend came in and said you can take them, but she just had to mention whatever kittens we didn’t take she would put in an animal shelter.

You mentally screamed in your head

“S/O! We can’t let them go there! These sweet babies wouldn’t survive!”

“Naegi-“

He had a cute sad puppy dog face. It looks like you have three kittens now

So when you guys got home you put some tuna on a plate and used a bowl nobody used for water. And used a blanket for them to bundle up in

“Ok naegi. How about you name the black and white one, I name the orange and grey one, and both think of a name for the gray one.”

He nodded his head in agreement

He named the black and white one ace

You named the grey and orange one mochi

And the gray one you both agreed on the name faith

Funny enough, you actually spent most the time with the cats.

Naegi would sometime joke and say

“I think you love those cats more than me.”

But then he would also lay down and play with them.

Faith was a very friendly cat, she got along with your friends fine, she loved affection, she often slept with you guys

Mochi was kinda territorial, she would growl at your friends at first, maybe fiercely scratch them or loudly meow at them, she was also a little adventurous, one time you guys couldn’t find her until you heard a meow from the window and saw she had a mouse in her mouth, still alive mind you. You quickly took it out her mouth and let it outside.

Ace was a very lazy cat, he only really got up if you had food or he wanted to lay in the sun, he would let you pet him. He would also lay in your lap if your not doing anything and would pet him.

You guys loved your cats and don’t regret your decision getting all three

Hajime Hinata

Hajime was a bit skeptical when you brought a kitten home and said “come on honey, let’s just take care of it for at least a week or two. You might like it.”

While your at your job he just took care of it, feed it, gave it water. That’s it.

For the first like three days

After a while the kitten would jump on Hajime’s lap and just curl up and sleep. He found it so cute.

He would also start petting it

Using a laser pointer and playing with it

He would softly laugh when playing with it.

You were starting to think Hajime didn’t like the cat. Cause you never saw him do anything with it when you got home.

You came home on the last day to take it back cause you thought Hajime didn’t like it. But you couldn’t find him or the kitten

To your surprises you found Hajime sitting on the bed and playing with it. With one of those dangling cat toys.

“So you do like the kitten?”

He turned to you surprised and then his face went a little red with embarrassment. He slowly nodded.

“So do you want to keep her? If not I can take her back.”

“No I really like her! She cute and fun!”

“Ok let’s decide if a name for her!”

“Hhhmm how about muffin?”

“I do like it. But what about other names?”

“Kitten, missy, misty, mocha, Roxie, muffin-“

You about to tell Hajime he already said muffin before the cat meowed and looked at both of you

“…Muffin.”

The cat crawled towards Hajime after he said muffin.

“I guess our cat name is muffin.”

After playing with muffin for a while, you both got ready to sleep and mitten sat in between both of your faces

Who knew Hajime would like cats

Kokichi oma

Kokichi was just walking around minding his own business when he saw a kitten, covered in dirt, crying and very skinny. Now Kokichi can be a jerk but he isn’t heartless. He picked up the kitten and ran straight home. He got some soap (the kind that is safe for animals.) and turned on the sink and washed it, not to hard to hurt but enough to get the dirt off. Then he got a towel and put him on the floor. Then got a plate put some tuna on it and then got then a bowl of water. He let it do it’s own thing but after it was done the kitten rub against Kokichi leg. Throughout the day the kitten would follow him wherever he went around the house.

“Kichi, babe I’m home.”

“Hey S/O look what I found in the in the alley!”

He came in and showed you pure white cat.

“Can we keep him please!”

“Kichi, I don’t know.”

He started shedding some tears. Of course they were crocodile tears. But the fact that he acted sad, must mean he really wants it.

“Ok kichi we can keep him-“

“YAAAY!”

“But we have to take it to the vet to get him nurtured, and make sure it gets all his shots”

Kokichi agreed to you term and the next day you guys go get him nurtured and make sure to get his shots. Well you did. He went to go buy some toys, cat food, a bed, etc. after you guys were done you brought him home and started thinking of a name for the pure white cat

“How about snowball?”

“No that’s too generic.”

“Casper?”

“No, he’s not dead.”

“Alaska?”

“If it was girl maybe.”

“Glacier?”

“No.”

“How about blanco?”

“What’s that even mean?”

“It means white in Spanish.”

“Blanco…blanco…blanco”

“I think I like it!”

“Alright blanco it is.”

Kokichi loved the cat. He always feed it, gave it water, and he loved to play with it.

Funny thing about blanco he was quite the mischievous cat. He loved to push things off shelves and scratch up furniture. But he was so cute

Sometimes Kokichi takes him to DICE meetings. he has him in his laps. While talking about whatever plans he pets him like a super villain

You and Kokichi also loves it when he cuddles up with both you when you prepare to go to bed

Kokichi sometimes walks around and on his shoulders is blanco.

As we all know mui and Kokichi. Hate each other. So anytime he walking around with blanco with his shoulder and mui insults him or something. Blanco will jump off his shoulders and attack mui until she runs away. Which Kokichi praises him for(even though you tell him multiples times it’s not ok for blanco to do that).

I saved the best fact for last. Kokichi had somebody make a mini scarf like the one he has. Which when you saw, it felt like you heart almost exploded.

You both love blanco so much!

Nagito Komeada

You were leaving for a trip in two months, and Nagito wasn’t too happy about that. He didn’t voice the fact that he was really gonna miss you. But you knew anyway. He was always kinda lonely when you go away. Sure he has…friends…or whatever he has with his classmates.

So you decided to get him a pet, you thought a dog might be to much. So why not a kitten.

A black kitten with yellow eyes caught your eye. You thought how funny it would be to get her since black cats are bad luck. You also wanted to get her cause the owner said that kitten would go to a different shelter soon.

You poked a holes in a box and put her in with a bow on top

“Nagi!”

“My hope! What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s a gift! For you my love!”

“Oh! My hope! Getting trash like me a gift. Your too good for me!”

“Nagi, my love, your not trash. Come on open it!”

He opened it and the kitten jumped right out onto his chest. He was quite surprised

“My hope! You got me a kitten!”

“Yeah! I know how lonely you get when I go away. So I got you this kitten! Do you like her?”

He picked her up and looked at her. He titled his head sideways and the cat copied him. Then he smiled and hugged the cat.

“I love her!!”

You squealed cause it was so cute.

“What do you want to name her?”

“Mmhhh…Lucky! I want to name her lucky!”

“Hehehe I’m not to surprised.”

Nagito was really happy. He wasn’t too sad when you had to leave.

Him and lucky were always together. He loves that kitten like his own child. He always let her sleep with him, eats with her and sometimes walks around with her.

His classmates notice the kitten and they asked question about it. He told them how you got him this kitten.

Lucky was a very interesting cat, he seemed to bring Nagito such good luck, but others not so much.

Like for example, fuyuhiko said something not to nice to Nagito, lucky was just there sitting on Nagito’s shoulders. When fuyuhiko walked away he tripped on some stairs. It was a lot of steps but it he was still kinda hurt. A couple of bruises and scraps.

He sometimes likes to pick up lucky and boop their noses together.

Ibuki took a picture of the moment and sent it to you. That picture become your new phone background.

He like to call lucky his good luck charm.

When you get back from your trip he at the airport with lucky on his shoulders.

“It’s seems you two got close.”

“Yeah! My hope! Lucky is the best gift I’ve ever gotten! Thank you so much!”

“Gotten any bad luck lately?”

“Nope quite the opposite!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! She’s my good luck charm!”

“I’m glad you that she brings you that much happiness.”

“Yup! now that your back and with lucky here. I feel on top of the world!”

“Heheh I love you nagi!”

“I love you more.”

*meow*

“We love you too lucky!”

You all got in the car and snuggled up together. Lying your head on Nagito’s shoulders and putting his head on top of yours. With lucky on top of your laps. How cute!

[samwilsonshandsandass]

Somewhere Safe Chapter 1

Somewhere Safe Chapter 1

Pairing: soft!dark!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere you don’t know and there’s someone in the room with you, who you don’t know. What will happen?

Series and chapter warnings: Non-sexual dubcon/noncon, kidnapping, abduction, ddlg undertones, Stockholm syndrome

Word count: ~2000

You heard something that could be taken for mumbled English, but you weren’t sure. You tried opening your eyes and after some tries, they opened. You couldn’t move your head. That was the first thing you noticed of your body.

“Ugh” You moaned, trying to make sense of that dizzy feeling in your head.

“So, you are awake” You heard a male voice say. It came from the foot of whatever you were laying on, in the left corner. You could see that much when you moved your eyes.

“What?”

“You already drifted in and out of consciousness a few times. Seems like the sedative is finally wearing off” The voice explained.

“Sedative?” You mumbled.

“Yes. I had to get you here somehow.”

“Where am I?” Your voice was slurred.

“Somewhere safe.”

All of this didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. This all had to be some weird nightmare; you’d just like to know what the hell your brain was trying to work through in your sleep.

You closed your eyes and slowly, everything went black.

Some time later, you woke up again.

“I hope, you stay awake this time” The same voice came from the same place with the same volume as before. Quieter, it added: “Shit, I think I overdosed her a little.”

You didn’t answer, instead you focused on feeling something. Or moving something except your eyes.

‘Start with your toes. Or your fingers’ You thought. And you could. But those body parts were about as much as you could move.

“You can move your fingers! That’s good” The voice sounded glad and not threatening but it made you jump. He could see that little movement under the soft blanket that had been put over you.

He took a bottle of water and asked: “Are you thirsty? Don’t worry, I didn’t spike it.”

Could you trust this person? He admitted to sedating you, apparently even overdosing you and brought you to wherever the hell you were. But your throat hurt, and even the unspoken promise of water was enough to make you nod.

He stood up and walked over to you and you could see him for the first time. He was tall, muscular, had longer brown hair and blue eyes.

“I’ll help you move into a sitting position, okay? And when your back is upright, you lean against my arm. Got it?”

When you mumbled an “Okay”, he reached below the blanket to hook his left arm behind your knees and put his right hand on your back to steady you and move you into position. Moving you, the blanket slipped down a bit and you were surprised to see you were still in your own pajamas.

He sat down on your left side and reached for a small bottle. His hand engulfed the bottom of it and he put his thumb on the body of it. His thumb seemed to reflect a little in the dim light of the room, and suddenly there was a low whirring sound.

Then, both things were gone and you didn’t know if you imagined them or not.

Meanwhile, the man put the bottle to your lips and tilted it, until slowly, water flowed into your mouth. It felt heavenly. Like a cold, clear mountain spring.

“Slowly, slowly. Don’t want you to choke” You could hear a smile in his voice.

After two gulps, you pulled back, and in the process some water dribbled on your chin. He put the bottle back and dried your chin off with his shirt sleeve.

“Thank you” You whispered, and that was when you heard it again. As he moved his arm, to put the bottle back, the whirring sound was back.

He smiled at you and moved you back down to lay on your back again, head propped up by a pillow.

Back in his chair, it seemed to be a high-backed armchair, he started to talk.

“Now that you’re really conscious, we can start. I’m Bucky, but you will either call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Daddy’. If you don’t, you’ll be punished. You obey me and do something or stop doing something when I tell you to. Understood?”

You nodded weakly. What other choice did you have? Appeasing him was probably the fastest way to get you out of wherever you were. Or at least get you some concessions.

“Answer me with words, and title please.” Bucky looked sternly at you.

“Yes… Sir.”

“Good girl. I will bring you food and water at set times. Breakfast will be at 7am, lunch at 12am and dinner at 6pm. You will get some snacks in the afternoon. Every two hours, I will bring you water. Breakfast will be something smaller, just to get you going and without coffee. So, say goodbye to your favorite caffeinated beverage. The day before you came here was the last day with coffee for you.”

You didn’t know how to react. On one hand, that sounded okay and reasonable. Like he cared for you. And that was the weird thing. But on the other hand, he had kidnapped you.

“That’s the first part. On to the next. You’ll live in this room until I’m sure you can follow rules. Next to this room is a bathroom. I’ll bathe you and wash your hair when necessary. I will also choose your clothes. Again, if you show me you can follow rules, you’ll have a say in what you wear. Although even then, you may only pick something of the clothes in the wardrobe. You hear me?”

You were frozen. He would bathe you? What did he mean by that? Did he mean everywhere? You didn’t know this man!

“What?” You squeaked.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean by ‘bathing’? Will you… will you touch me? There?”

“Yes, although not like that. Only to clean you up. You don’t have to fear anything. I’ll never touch you like that without your consent.”

He seemed honest. Still, you’d only believe that when, or if, it should, and probably would, happen.

“Okay?” His voice was softer.

Was his voice softer now? Or did you imagine that, because you hoped for it to be?

You nodded.

“Good” He smiled.

Silence now stretched into the room.

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asked. “I got something here, if you want.”

“I’m not hungry” You whispered. Putting some defiance in your voice, you added: “And I won’t eat anything while I’m here!”

“As you wish. And believe me, when I say you will eat. I don’t care how long it’ll take, but you will eat.”

He stood up and made for the door. “I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and bed time is at 9pm.”

With that, he left. And you didn’t know what to do. Yes, now you could move your entire body, but there was literally nothing you could do. You could walk around the room and then the bathroom and that was about it. Maybe you could look at the room closer? At least that would be something to do.

You slowly stood up and looked around. The bed you had been on was a queen size. It was entirely in light pink. The cushions, you didn’t count them, there were so many, were in different colors of pink and some white thrown in. They still had the imprint of Bucky’s back on them from when he had sat you up so you could drink something. The headboard was light pink velvet with a dark pink pattern on it and a canopy on it.

On the left side of the wall opposite the headboard was that high-backed arm chair in yellow, with a side table and next to it a tall book shelf. It was empty. On the other side of the wall was a slightly ajar door. That was most likely the bathroom door. Between the door and the shelf were two wardrobes that had a vanity between them. The wardrobes were empty as well. What kinda clothes would he put in there?

Anything that wasn’t some kind of cloth was white wood.

The door left of the bed was closed. That had to be the door through which you could, in theory, get out. Even if you managed that, you’d probably have to get through a house or at least a flat and then who knew what kind of surroundings for who knew how long.

Still, you tried the door handle. No luck. Defeated, you flopped back down on the bed.

---

Later, you didn’t know how much time later since there were no clocks in the room, which was no doubt deliberately, Bucky appeared again. He carried a tray. You could see a glass water on it, some pancakes and a syrup bottle.

“It’s dinner time” He smiled and set everything down.

So, it was 7pm on the first day you were awake. You vowed to remember that. Maybe keeping tabs on this structure would help you keep sane, for you to stay yourself.

“Scoot over here and you can have something to eat.”

You did, your tummy had been rumbling since he left you alone.

Now near the corner of the bed, you reached for the cutlery to cut up the pancakes. Before you could grasp it, both of Bucky’s hands grabbed it and that’s when you saw it. He didn’t exactly hide it but apparently you had been too distracted and sedated to really notice it before. The hand grasping the knife was human. The hand grasping the fork had human form, but it was made of metal.

“You’re not allowed to use cutlery. I said you’d have something to eat. Not that you could fed yourself.”

“Sorry” You mumbled, your eyes glued to his metal hand.

“’Sorry’ what?”

“Sorry, Sir.” Still, your eyes were glued to his metal hand. There was just one question swirling in your head but how would he react to you asking a question without him saying something beforehand? And then such an invasive question?

“Thank you. And I’m sure you know it’s rude to stare. Ask.”

Your head snapped up.

“I… uhm, what- what happened to your hand?” You whispered.

“My whole arm actually” He shrugged and your eyes went wide. “Something bad. That’s all you need to know, but this prosthetic is a good replacement.”

Your mouth formed an “Oh”.

“Now, pancakes?” He asked and cut them up and drizzled syrup over them.

You nodded timidly. You still didn’t know what to make of all this.

The pancakes actually tasted good. You had to wait for him to feed you every small bite. If that was what it took to get some nutrition, you could play along with whatever this was.

When you were done eating, Bucky softly wiped the corners of your mouth and chin with a napkin although you were sure nothing had drizzled down and that action hadn’t been necessary.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl” He smiled. “I’ll come back when it’s time for bed.”

You nodded, and Bucky left.

---

It had to be 9pm, or around that time, because the door on the left opened and in came Bucky with a book and a glass of milk.

“I’ll read you a story and you’ll drink your milk, how’s that sound?”

You smiled to appease him.

Bucky propped himself up against the headboard and beckoned you over to him, to sit between his legs and lean against his chest. You hesitated.

“C’mere. I don’t bite.”

You went over to him and accepted the glass of milk he gave you. It was warm and tasted sweet. He must have put honey in it.

Bucky started to read the book. It was some generic fairytale and not even that long, but you felt yourself being lulled to sleep by his voice, the warmth of his body around you and the warm milk.

Your eyes fell close and your last thought before you fell asleep was how until now he had fed you, gave you water, didn’t touch you in any way you didn’t want. And yet, all this had only happened because he had abducted you.

You slept like a log and didn’t notice Bucky slipping out of the bed nor him stroking your head before he left the room.

[sevlgi]

believe

requested: no

group: blackpink

pairing: jisoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: guardian angel!jisoo, near death instances, unlucky reader. [22/33].

warnings: none

synopsis: You’ve never believed in guardian angels, but that just might change when you’re saved from certain death 3 times in one week.

a/n: idk if I’ve ever seen anyone do a similar au... tell me if you have! also i’m actually hella proud of this one lmao

word count: 1.8k

Do guardian angels exist?

Well, that’s a subjective question, and there really isn’t a yes or no answer... But if yours does, they’re doing the shittiest job of the century.

The amount of times you’ve been hurt in the past, both physically and emotionally, is stupidly high. You’ve always had an aptitude for getting injured, stories of broken bones and gashes making up basically half of your entire life. Your friends and family pride themselves on having a fully loaded arsenal of embarrassing tales, practically making it a rite of passage to visit the hospital with you. And don’t even mention the heartbreaks- those just seem to follow you wherever you go.

When you move to a different city for what must be the 10th time, you vow that it’s going to be different, no matter how obvious it is that it won’t. You vow that there aren’t going to be any incidents that land you in the hospital, nor any relationships that just end in chaos.

Suffice to say, all of that goes haywire on your first day in town.

Without a car to drive you to work or any friends to hitchhike off of, you take the subway, line #224 to Solace Building. There just so happens to be a new girl group song you’re obsessed with, blasting on the highest possible volume in your earbuds, when you’re shoved from the back right into the subway tracks. “Fu-”

Time slows down as you start to fall, the dusty railways coming too close to your face for comfort before a warm hand wraps around yours, the socket of your arm straining to carry your entire weight as you’re jerked back sharply.

You collide with a warm body, soft curves lessening the impact and delicate, impossibly strong hands steadying you on either side of your waist. By all logic, you should’ve knocked your savior over, should be sprawled on the ground right now with dirty palms and a heat-flushed face. “Are you okay?”

When you step back sharply, you’re met with the sight of the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. Her heart-shaped smile and delicate features are framed with cascading brown hair, and she has ethereally flawless porcelain skin. She’s the kind of beautiful that makes the plainest outfit look designer, that could make you believe sea glass to be pure diamond. “Uh. Y-yeah. I’m good.”

“I’m glad,” she chuckles, smiling even wider and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Maybe she doesn’t realize the effect she has on you, humming as she dusts something invisible off your bag. “You should be more careful, Y/N, wouldn’t want someone as pretty as you being killed by a train.”

If it was anyone else, the words would sound creepy, especially with the added factor of the girl knowing your name. “How-- how do you know who I am?”

She juts her lips at the card hanging off your bag, your name written in big, bold letters. “Nametag. Y/N Y/L/N, employee in Solace Building?”

To hide the heat in your cheeks, you look to the floor and stutter out, “Well. Since you know my name, uh, isn’t it fitting that I know yours?”

It’s not nearly as smooth as you’d like it to be-- usually, the natural flirt in you would’ve made an appearance-- but the petite brunette extends a hand, tipped with gentle pink nails. “Jisoo. Kim Jisoo, if that’s helpful at all.”

Your next words are interrupted by your train arriving; when Jisoo doesn’t follow you on, you turn to look at her with your eyebrow quirked. “Are you...?”

“Not my train,” she smiles, shaking her head, even though it’s the only one arriving for hours where she stands. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Stay out of trouble!”

It’s an odd way to end a first meeting, but you don’t think much of it as you grab the nearest seat and pull out your phone to search her up. K-I-M J-I-S-O-O, you type, eyes scanning the screen fervently as the train starts.

Plenty of people show up-- after all, Kim Jisoo is not a rare name-- but none of the dozens of profiles you click through are the beautiful girl who saved your life. It’s too late when you look back out the window towards the station, the only thing you see becoming brick wall.

The next time you almost die, you’re just walking to the coffee shop across from your apartment.

The activity should be safe, considering that not many people in the area own cars. At first, you think you are safe, crossing the silent street with no problem and receiving your usual order just fine; you’re on your way back to your lonely little apartment when you hear the screeching of car tires on the road.

“Watch out!” someone screams, but you’re frozen in the middle of the crosswalk. You forget how there wasn’t a single car in the street when you were crossing as you stare at the grill coming close. The car doesn’t stop or slow down, and you scrunch your eyes shut with your arms raised up, just waiting for the impact.

It never comes. When you hesitantly open your eyes again, you find a familiar figure standing in front of you, the force of her hand having knocked your coffee onto your blouse. The car bumper is pressing into her bare leg, which is miraculously clean of a scratch or bruise, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she turns to grin at you.

“Sorry, I ruined your coffee,” Jisoo frowns, her hand coming up to almost touch the steaming stain on your chest. You stare at her mutely, following obediently when she grabs your wrist and pulls you back to the coffee shop. “Can I buy you another one?” she offers, plucking a napkin off a street-side table.

“Kim Jisoo?” you say disbelievingly, not even feeling it as she dabs the coffee away. “You again?”

“Me again,” she confirms, pulling some more napkins out of her purse with a smile on her face. “I hope you’re not disappointed; after all, I just saved you from dying. Again.”

“No, that’s not...” Taking a deep breath, you smile too, wrapping your fingers around her hand to gently brush her off. “It’s okay. I’m glad to see you, actually-- I searched for your profile to thank you, but I couldn’t find anything.”

Jisoo shrugs, opening the door to the coffee shop for you. “Oh, I’m not really on social media. If you wanted my number, you could’ve just asked.”

You laugh lightly, tossing the crushed cup in your hand into the trash. Of course it’s odd that she isn’t on social media in the 21st century-- with her face, you’d expect Jisoo to be a major influencer. “Then I’ll ask for it. Later.”

“Of course. Order what you want, I owe you one after all that,” she offers, plucking a couple loose 20 dollar bills out of her purse.

Once again, you’re faced with another weird habit of hers, but you order anyway and thank her after she pays. Before you can say anything else, though, she gets a text and frowns at her phone. “Oh, sorry, I have to go. Catch you next time?”

“Sure,” you answer, forgetting to tell her that she still forgot to give you her number. You stand dumbly on the sidewalk and watch her go, taking a deep breath and looking both ways before you set off towards your apartment for the second time that day.

Maybe next time?

The third, and hopefully last time, is the absolute weirdest of all. 

You seem to have a thing for being knocked into ditches-- this time, a group of teenagers barrels into you while you’re walking by the side of the only river in your entire city. You open your mouth to tell them off, but before you can, an especially hard shove from an stocky little boy pushes you right into the water.

Luckily, the fall isn’t high, so you don’t hit the water with much force, but the boats cruising along and the recently terrible weather stir the current strong enough to pull you right under. In the icy water, you feel your fingers let go of the phone in your hand, your lungs slowly being crushed by the pressure of your surroundings.

It’s hard to tell how much time passes while you’re in the water. From what your doctors have told you, trauma is difficult to remember clearly for a while, but you vaguely feel hands linking in front of your chest and forearms bracing under your armpits to drag you out of the water.

The heat of the summer sun warms the stone under your back and you can hear whispers sounding around you as you flop onto the floor. Hands push hard on your breastbone, once, twice-

After maybe 30 pushes, fingers pinch your nose, and soft lips meet yours. It feels more like a kiss than CPR, no air really being blown into your mouth, but nonetheless, you feel water leaving your lungs, and you open your eyes in shock, coughing out loud.

To your (somewhat) shock, it’s the same girl hovering over you. Jisoo’s skirt is wet at her knees where she kneels beside you, her hands still hovering over your chest. She must’ve been the one giving CPR, then. Sitting up, you hack violently until most of the water’s out of your lungs, the other girl waving away all of the spectators. “How’re you feeling?” she asks, once you’re alone on the sidewalk.

Your hands move faster than your brain, pulling her forward by the nape of her neck until you kiss again, something about her tasting familiar in a way you can’t quite place. “Who are you?” you breathe once you’ve pulled away, searching her warm eyes for an answer.

She smiles again, handing you your miraculously dry phone instead of answering. It should be waterlogged and dead, but nothing seems to make sense when concered with Kim Jisoo. “How about you take me for dinner or something before asking the serious questions? Soup should be good to warm you up.”

Hand clasping in hers, you’re pulled to your feet with strength that doesn’t match her petite stature. You barely remember that you look like an almost-drowned rat, your lips purple with cold and your hair stringy with icy water. “Sure. Soup. But you need to answer me first.”

She exhales, hitching her bag higher up on her arm. “I’d say I’m your guardian angel, but you wouldn’t believe that, would you?”

“I wouldn’t,” you answer, eyes narrowing as you follow her down the street. “But maybe you can convince me. Over soup.”

[flamboyant-king]

— SHIP QUESTIONS (but I just filled them all out anyway)

Herb and Clover!

When I’m sad, I do ship memes to feel better. These are based on headcanons and AUs I have yet I hide. Sorry, I’m making yall see this, but I like sharing my ideas even when I can’t draw them hgjkdf (sorry mobile users i think)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? While Herb was still serving in the army, he was trying to give one of his troopmates first aid in a burning town. Clover appeared at the top of the cliff after exiting the forest. The burning town terrified him, he wanted to run back into the forest, but he knew whoever was down there needed help. So at the top of the cliff he let loose a healing melody, hoping it would help. The music overtook the sounds of chaos as the notes fell upon those suffering below. The wounds of the soldier slightly fade away from Herb’s troopmate’s side. The pain becoming bearable and the man calming down. Herb bandaged him up and someone else carried him to safety. Herb told them to go on without him as he looked up at the cliff. Wherever that music came from, he is grateful. But they first really met in Herb’s garden hehe

What was their first impression of each other? Herb: The melody is enchanting. Tranquil and yet melancholic. There is a literal goddess in my garden. I don’ know what to do, but I should say hello, I think? Clover: He looks...so familiar...

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? The bar squad just gave each other look everytime they see Herb and Clover hanging out. Like, “Are they dating because they should???” After observation from Milennial Tree and Wind archer, they think Herb is the perfect suit to watch over their little Clover.

Who felt romantic feelings first? Herb felt them first. Almost immediate love at first sight. He immediately wanted to see Clover again and invited him to come to his garden every morning. Just the two of them every morning in a place only for them. The thought of this made him so embarrassed and giddy. Clover also smelled like grass, so even if he wasn’t in his garden, his “safespace,” just being by Clover made him feel at home. Clover still had lingering feelings for Shamrock when he spent time with Herb. Only after did it grow out of that and went for just falling for Herb himself.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Clover tried to resist only because he didn’t want to fall for Herb because he reminded him of Shamrock. He didn’t want to do that to him. But when he realized that he was in fact just falling for Herb because he’s Herb did he let it happen.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? Herb: It does feel like fate to see you again. Clover: I don’t want to keep thinking back to him, but if reincarnation is real...No...No I shouldn’t think like that.

What would their lives be like if they had never met? Herb would be lonely all by himself in his little garden. Clover would still be traveling with nowhere else to return home to.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? It just happened naturally. Slowly getting closer. Spending every morning together, turned into afternoon, and into nights, and just spending every waking moment together. They didn’t even need to say anything or ask each other out, they just knew how comfortable it was to be with each other that they wanted to stay that way.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? The first time it felt like an actual date was when Clover invited Herb to a little private concert in the woods. Herb offered to bring picnic supplies. They walked through the forest until they could find a nice spot to settle on. They crossed over a stream on a fallen tree. Clover slipped on the moss and fell to the side but Herb jumped to catch him. Waded through the ankle deep water so fast to make sure Clover didn’t get wet, because “walking around in a soggy skirt seems uncomfortable.” Herb was holding Clover in his arms and Clover just looked at him. Thinking. Admiring. Clover wrapped his arms around Herb’s neck and stayed there. They both “soaked”  in the moment before Herb stood Clover back on the log. Clover didn’t let go of his hand. Herb was his support for the rest of the tree. But even after they were past the stream, they didn’t let go of each other’s hands.

What was their first kiss like? It felt right. All the days leading up to it felt like they could have kissed just right there. They greeted each other the same each morning. Clover groggily walked into the garden and gave Herb’s apron a tug. Herb turned to Clover with a smile. He just had to lean in naturally and it was done. They held it for a few seconds. Herb pulled away then it struck what he just did. “Clover, I’m so sorry! That came out of nowhere. I should’ve asked or s-something.” Clover looked at him still processing what had happened, then his face turned pink. They both just stood there embarrassed before Clover asked for another.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? They were each other’s first relationship. Clover has been in love many times before but was always afraid to make it official knowing he would outlive them. Herb isn’t the social type, it was actually Sparkling that approached him and forced him into familiarity. But Herb never went out of his way to get to know someone enough to start dating.

What’s their height difference? Age difference? Clover’s at the perfect height to peek over Herb’s shoulder. Clover ages slowly, so a 100 years it he equivalent of a human year of growth. So clover started slowly aging after 18 years, now he’s 700+ years thus making his body 25 years old. Herb is 26 hehoo.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Clover’s family is lost to time. He doesn’t know who his real parents are and his adoptive parents died centuries ago. Herb admires Milennial Tree and he’s friendly with Wind Archer. Clover is also familiar with Sea Fairy through Milennial Tree.

Who takes the lead in social situations? Herb is usually one who tries to blend in with the background and slip away from social situations, yet he’s very approachable. He uses Clover to mellow out social situations, and Clover is very talkative and friendly. So by having Clover there, Herb can direct everyone’s attention away from him and onto Clover.

Who gets jealous easier? Clover likes all of Herb’s friends, but Herb does get a bit jealous when he sees Clover hanging out with them. He’s keeping his eye on Mint Choco even though he knows Mint Choco and Cocoa are dating. Irrational Jealousy.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? Clover’s got good ears so Herb would whisper so quietly that no one but Clover can actally hear him even if it’s not directly in his ear. So Clover is the one who would tend to whisper in Herb’s ear. However, since Clover’s ears are so sensitive, Herb whispering in them would tickle. Herb would use that to his advantage sometimes. He isn’t one to dirty talk, but when they do get uhhh dirty, he loves to see Clover shudder when he brushes his lips against his ear and breathe compliments to him.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? Clover would say I love you in ways without using those words, through poems, music, gestures, and actions. So Herb would say “I love you” first but Clover said it first.

What are their primary love languages? Hugs! Clover likes to sit in Herb’s lap and Herb would rub his head.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? Clover is more poetic so he wouldn’t use cheesy pick up lines. Herb would research some bad ones and tell them to Clover, though. Just to make him laugh.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? All the time. As often as they could. Whenever they’re in the vicinity of each other.

Who initiates kisses? Clover! He looks up at Herb with pleading eyes that Herb knows to bend over and give him a peck on the lips. And Clover would sometimes just wrap his arms around Herb’s neck to hold him there a bit longer.

Who’s the big and little spoon? Clover’s the little spoon. He loves being surrounded in Herb. Herb just holds little plants so often, of course he’d keep Clover in his arms.

What are their favorite things to do together? Gardening, of course.

Who’s better at comforting the other? Clover has more comforting words to offer, but Herb’s hugs are just what Clover needs to feel safe.

Who’s more protective? Herb! It’s his instinct to protect the smaller things. Like plants, animals, Clover.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? Despite all the words they can say to each other, physical touch speaks real volumes. Just laying together is a whole romance novel.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzQcU45t2mctSxvM0JpOG3UCzxQVMAGsB

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? Honey...because Bees. *badumtss*

Who remembers the little things? Clover never forgets.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes? Herb would. He would make the ring himself in the Jewelry shop. The proposal wouldn’t be flashy even. It would happen where they have always been. Alone in Herb’s garden. Clover sitting on his stool strumming his lute and Herb would walk over and kneel down. Take Clover’s hand into his and say “I have something to give you--” and he’d open the ring. “--the rest of my life.” (Adding context to the answer, they’ve talked about it before how Clover would outlive him and Herb feeling insecure about being just a chapter in Clover’s life. Shamrock being the prologue pssh. But Herb was just like “I would love you for the rest of my life. I just hope I become more than just a story you tell.”)

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? The wedding would be in the forest! Mystical and Magical. All the animals would be invited and everyone in the kingdom. Sparkling, of course running the bar. Mint Choco and Clover would have a little performance. Gingerbrave gets to be the ring bearer! Milennial Tree never gets tired of weddings so he’s crying. Wind Archer is the priest just because. It’s like a Disney movie or some shit.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? No kids, only plants and funny woodland critters that visit. Although, Cookiesnap requires their combined attention.

Do they have any pets? Cookiesnap?

Who’s the stricter parent? Herb! Gotta make sure Cookiesnap doesn’t eat any of the other cookies. Clover would usually just play with Cookiesnap.

Who worries the most? Herb! Clover can be a bit airheaded and wander around into danger. But also, since Clover is sickly, Herb has to carry him around.

Who kills the bugs in the house? No kill, just relocate.

How do they celebrate holidays? They always go out and travel. Always away but still together.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? Clover! Herb is a very early bird. Herb would wake up and see Clover cozily lying on his chest, head burried in his neck. Herb would kiss his forehead and try to go back to sleep. But he would just lay there and relish in the moment.

Who’s the better cook? Herb, even though they both fucking eat dirt, Herb has more experience cooking with actual ingredients.

Who likes to dance? Both! Although, it’s hard to dance together when one of them is playing the music. So when Clover is playing music, Herb dances with the flowers, but when they dance together, Clover sings as Herb hums.

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

[keepingupwithpotters]

go ‘head ruin my makeup

Inspired by that photo. Yup, that one.

Thank you @frustratedpoetwrites for turning this chunk of words into a readable mess. Can also be found on ao3.

“— if you would just stop moving around—“

“Oh, this isn’t moving around Evans. This is a basic bloody reflex. Happens when someone pokes your eye repeatedly with a sharp object - can even be called survival instinct, really.”

Jamie can tell her audience is not appreciating these smartarse responses from the way she huffs while passing the eye pencil she holds from one hand to another. She’s even willing to bet that Lily is currently rolling her eyes in exasperation, but she finds it a little hard to care much for her annoyance at the moment. All her thoughts are focused on how nervous she is, how sweaty her palms are, and how much time she has left until her date. She realizes what a bad idea it was to even think about the date as her right leg starts jumping up and down again. Right… Better not open that can of worms and focus on the present then - which honestly starts to seem much worse for her nerves because Lily has decided to stop the shaking leg with a firm press of her hand.

A breath held. For one second, two maybe. Her leg stilling so abruptly... The hand has left her thigh. She really doesn’t know how long she can keep doing this.

“Did you forget the part where you asked for this Potter? I thought you wanted to look Muggle for tonight,” huffs Lily while she turns her back to the sitting witch beside her and rummages through the impromptu makeup counter in front of her, trying to choose her next product.

When she turns back she has an admittedly slightly less dangerous pointy stick in her hand but a much, much more wicked smile. “Well, this is how we do things – á la Muggle.”

Jamie can’t tell if she is terrified of or excited with the promises behind that smile, those two feelings that become so interchangeable whenever she’s around her.

“Okay, I need you to close your eyes,” instructs Lily while leaning into her face slowly, causing Jamie’s mind to short-circuit completely, rendering the dazed witch unable to follow the simple command.

She is still looking a little stunned and not even blinking - which is, you know, the opposite of what she ought to do - when Lily’s face clouds with worry as she feels the need to add, “so I can smudge the pencil? A little hard to do when your eyes are open without you screaming bloody murder about maiming and survival instincts.”

This, Jamie can understand and readily comply with – thinking that maybe not seeing the girl standing oh so close to her can help with some of her worries at the moment. Which are mainly concentrated on not making a fool out of herself, as they always are. She realizes how wrong she was, and what an idiot she had been to even think otherwise when Lily’s hand comes out of nowhere and holds her head in place.

Now, logically Jamie can understand that the said hand did not actually come from nowhere – she just had the misfortune of having her eyes closed and had no time to prepare herself for it. She also understands the necessity of holding her head in one place as she is prone to fidgeting around whenever Lily becomes too close. The problem is however, her warming cheeks, out of rhythm heart, and swooping stomach did not seem to get the same memo as her brain. 

The swooping stomach, she’s used to. It has become an almost permanent feeling whenever she’s around Evans. Considering they are roommates who have the same schedule, it was safe to say that this was a daily occurrence – which you’d think would give her some time to get used to it. But every time Lily laughed, smiled or yelled at her at questionably high volumes, it came back - strong as ever. So Jamie learned to live with her butterflies’ residence in her middle, their daily flutters not resented but expected.

Her heartbeat is a rhythm she is prone to pay attention to for many different reasons. It pounds in her ears under her invisibility cloak, with the adrenaline of almost getting caught after a good prank. It beats out of her chest, just before the starting of a Quidditch match, blocking her ears to the screams coming from the stands. And now it stops and it starts again whenever Lily decides to call her Jamie, whenever she leans in to her while they are sitting like this is just something they normally do.Whenever she recalls something that Jamie mentioned ages ago – never expecting her to pay attention, never expecting her to care. She doesn’t know how many missteps her heart can take, she can take. She supposes it can’t be healthy, to have a heart that loses its rhythm this much around one person, but she never was one to take the doctor’s orders was she?

The quickly rising temperature of her cheeks, she is trying to will into disappearing to no avail. At first she thinks it’s because her eyes are closed - she was just hyper aware of the soft and small hand on her face, barely covering her cheek. As she feels the warmth spreading from her cheeks to her neck as Lily strokes her face slightly –she’s stroking her face!- she realizes that it is actually a blush blossoming on the highs of her cheeks, wherever the pale skinned hand touches.

 Jamie wants to open her eyes desperately, needs to see Lily’s face. She needs to gauge what’s going through her mind because it is impossible to do so with your eyes closed, and she has to tell her that she is not just holding, but actually stroking her face, because Jamie really isn’t sure the redheaded girl realizes what she’s doing or how she is affecting the subject of her gentle touch. She also doesn’t know which option is worse – Lily doing this intentionally, knowing exactly how it makes Jamie dysfunction momentarily, or Lily just casually stroking her face without any thought, dare she even think because she wants to?

 Unfortunately Jamie is not able to solve any of these mysteries because she still can’t open her eyes so she decides to focus on a problem she can solve – her traitorous cheeks.

Blushing always used to be Evans’ thing. Her face waiting for any moment to betray her and display the many emotions she was feeling at that moment for the whole world to see. Jamie adored Lily when she was angry and her face matched the colour of her hair, adored her when she was embarrassed and her cheeks lit aflame with emotion, when one of Jamie’s many suggestive lines left her speechless with the apples of her cheeks burning bright. 

Lately though it has become Jamie who’s rendered speechless, who is staring at Evans’ back, dumbfounded with a blush forming on her cheeks. Jamie who can’t form coherent sentences and stammers over every word, where she used to be able to speak even if the recipient was not always fond of the sentiments. She doesn’t know what to think of this new update, just hopes that Lily is as observant about this as she used to be.

When Lily finally tells her to open her eyes, with one last lingering feather light touch, she is still at square one on her mission to get rid of her red cheeks. At least now she has the opportunity to observe Lily closely, looking for clues in her face about the presence of her ever persisting blush. It’s hard to do so as thoroughly as she desired because Lily removed her glasses at the beginning of this makeover, and she isn’t able to make out much of her facial expressions unless she comes real close to her – not that she is complaining, she thought it was a brilliant idea to help her control herself around the fluttering girl.

Squinting her eyes, she tries to look at Lily as distinctly as possible.She is very sure that Lily is in fact not aware of Jamie’s blush, because there is no bloody way that she would be able to hide the self-satisfied smirk she gets anytime Jamie blunders in front of her. The sort of smile that makes you feel like she is in on a joke that you are not part of, so you better catch up to her. And Jamie is trying so hard - to catch up, to be a part, to not blunder. Just as she relaxes in her chair she sees Lily slyly putting the unused pink blush back in the makeup bag, never to be mentioned again.

And she realizes, once again, that she is an idiot.

Lily decides to talk to her again as she is leaning against the table casually, her whole posture relaxed. “I was thinking something golden obviously, for your eye shadow”

Obviously?

Jamie is sure she is missing something entirely, a glaring fact that is probably right in front of her face. But she had already made a fool out of herself too many times to count, and she is not going to be the butt of the joke this time. And so she repeats back the sentiment confidently, 

“Obviously.”

Her desired duh effect seems not to convey to the other side, as the word out of her mouth sounds like a question more than anything and Lily is raising her eyebrows again.

“Are you fishing for compliments here Potter?”

“Ah, is it because gold complements my tan complexion perfectly?”

“Yes, like a drop of sunshine gliding across your face,” she says with a straight face. She only hesitates for a moment before adding, “To bring out the gold in your eyes.”

“My eyes aren’t golden,” Jamie retorts quickly before she can stop herself.

She is met with another eye roll, “I didn't say they are golden, did I? Just that they’ve gold flecks in ‘em.” She tilts her head to the side as she ponders over something before saying, “They come out when sunlight hits your eyes, or when you—“

This time she does stop herself abruptly, looking like she already said too much before finishing her sentence, “or firelight. Any light really, just stand under a big candle next time you want to impress someone.”

Jamie knows she was not going to end her sentence this way, and she knows Lily is aware of that. But right now she looks so bloody uncomfortable that Jamie can’t find it in herself to push for more answers, not when all she wants to do is make her relax again.

“Well, I am ready Evans. Go ahead, make me a pretty girl.”

This does seem to bring the smile back on her face. “Don’t act like this makeup shindig is not just me indulging myself,” she scoffs,” you’re already drop dead gorgeous.”

While putting on the eye shadow, Lily allows Jamie to keep her eyes open, on the condition that she only looks down.Which means her hands on her lap are the only things in her line of vision. She can see them start fidgeting clear as a day when she feels Lily’s warm breath on her temple.

The standing witch manages to tolerate it for three seconds before snapping. “I swear to Merlin if you don’t stop fumbling your bloody hands around I’ll sit on them, you know I will.”

 Jamie lets herself think about the possibility for one glorious moment before gripping the arms of her chair so hard her knuckles turn white. She can’t see Lily’s face but she can feel the smugness radiating off her. Whatever, she can have this round. She can win any round really, as far as Jamie is concerned.

“Look ahead for me now Potter, I need to see if both sides are equal”

She happily obeys, realizing she can now stare at Lily without getting noticed as she crouches down to her eye level in front of her.

Jamie uses this time wisely, drinking in the sight of her as she concentrates on the task - trying to keep the eye shadow the same level. She seems to find her work satisfactory enough, leaning back slightly to give her a once over.

“Did it work?” Jamie asks with excitement in her voice, finally free from the intoxication of having those green eyes so close to her face.

“Yeah, sure. You are officially a pretty girl.”

“Not that, Evans. And you said I was drop dead gorgeous, no take backs now” she counters quickly. “I meant the gold flecks, did they appear?”

She gets a contemplative look on her face that is disrupted by the warm smile on her lips, eyes lightening up with affection and something else that Jamie can’t place. “Yes, it worked. I am clearly a brilliant makeup artist.”

The smile is still on her face as she gets up from her position on the floor to walk back to where the rest of her makeup products lay. She quirks an eyebrow as she asks, “How do you feel about false eyelashes?”

“Uh, scared? Fear seems to be the general emotion, yeah.”

Lily sighs like it pains her so, “Fine, we’ll stick to mascara like a boring little wuss.”

She doesn’t even have the time to object to that slander before Lily is right back by her side again, asking her to keep her eyes open as she applies the mascara. She needs to slightly bend towards Jamie’s face while she does it, the height difference when one of them sits down makes it impossible not to.

The slight tilt of her posture causes the wide neck of her shirt to dip a little, just enough to give Jamie an eyeful of constellations across her chest – spreading down, down and down. She counts one, two, three freckles starting from her collarbones before she realizes with a start where they are headed, snapping her eyes up immediately as she stops connecting the little dots before her.

While she has the opportunity to see if her ogling was noticed by Lily, she is too embarrassed to do so – choosing to focus on a spot over her shoulder instead. When she gathers the courage to look at her face again, she is already gone from her side – seemingly done with her lashes for now.

But she doesn’t jump on the next product she plans to use immediately like she had been doing until now. She doesn’t even pick up a new brush with clear glee in her face. What she does appear to be doing is staring at Jamie’s face with a thoughtful look on her face, like she is trying to calculate what her next move should be.

Jamie quickly trıes to go through all the steps she knows about makeup in her mind, frantically trying to figure out if this is the end of their little moment. If it is, she knows that means it is time for her date and she also knows she is still not ready to think about that yet.

She tries to cling on to their time desperately, “Well, is that all then?”

“No,” Lily hums, “we still have to put on some lipstick of course.”

Of bloody course, Jamie had never been more relieved to hear those words as she did now.

“Trying to pick a colour for me, Evans? I’ve been told I look absolutely smashing with a pink lip you know?”

Lily lets a small smile interrupt her pensive face for a moment, “I’ve chosen a red lipstick so you can keep representing Gryffindor pride for the rest of the day.”

The unsaid question lies in the air - Jamie doesn’t open her mouth to ask what the hold-up is, but she has a feeling Lily is about to answer it anyway.

“There is just something I want to do before I have to worry about messing up your lipstick.”

And Lily Evans is kissing her… again. Jamie was a fool to think that nothing could top their first kiss she realizes, as she feels Lily’s soft lips on her own, tries to breathe her in, tries not to die. The warm feeling in her belly still has not passed since they went on their first date. Since they walked under the snow until their cheeks turned to poppies, since Lily decided that she actually couldn’t wait for Jamie to make the first move and kissed her. A soppy smile has not been far from her lips ever since that day, widening when she looks at snow, widening even more when she gazes at those green eyes.

When Lily came to her with all the excitement of the world in her face, asking if she could take her to Muggle London for their next date - how was Jamie going to say no, really?  Not when she prattled on giddily about after that how their next date could be in somewhere magical again, talking about taking turns planning dates – like Jamie hadn’t been planning them since 5th year, like it escaped her notice she basically confirmed at least four dates in their future in one breath.

The maddening effect of talking to Evans’ has left her body completely this afternoon, when it finally sunk in that she was going to Muggle London - a place she had never been before. The pressure on her poor nerves only rising when she turned to Sirius for some advice, wear corduroy trousers with no knickers Prongs, that’s what all Muggles in London do I swear.

So that’s how Lily finds her when she walks into their dorm – standing around a big pile of clothes, talking about how it is completely barbaric to not put on knickers.  Thankfully she catches on swiftly that Jamie is seconds away from spiralling into a panic and she comes up with the great idea to help her with her makeup – in the latest Muggle style, no less.

To no one’s surprise, her plan works swimmingly - Jamie, no longer thinking about corduroys or knickers, focused only on Lily as she usually is. And now her whole body relaxes once more, as she is still kissing her with all she’s got. She feels Lily’s hair slipping through her fingers like silk, counting her blessings while getting lost in all the soft sounds she makes.

She is still dizzy from something purely Lily when they stop kissing. They both take a moment to just breathe each other in before Lily steps away from her, a fact she only knows because her warmth is missing. She opens her eyes just in time to see Lily’s bashful but pleased smile – a smile she is getting used to now.

From all those moments her brain was low on oxygen – at least that’s what she wants to believe- the first words to come out of her mouth were, “Does that mean you won’t kiss me after you put my lipstick on?”

“Let me make that decision after I actually put it on, “Lily said while not taking her eyes off her, “We are already late as it is.”

Lipstick proves itself to be the hardest part for Jamie - Lily is both holding her face and leaning in to her, and this time Jamie’s eyes are free to roam her face as she pleases. She has a hard time breathing as she stares at the freckles on her nose, trying not to think about the others she saw not too long ago. Just as she is starting to think she is about to turn into a puddle under the intensity of Lily’s eyes on her lips, it’s over and Jamie can breathe again.

“And one last finishing touch,” Lily breathes as she goes to bring Jamie back her glasses, handing them over as fast as she can.

Jamie takes a moment to drink her in when her vision finally clears up, thinking if it’s possible for her to have gotten more beautiful somehow while she was partially blind. She keeps her eyes on Lily’s face to not miss any emotion this time, “Well Evans, what’s the verdict?”

The same wicked smile spreads through Lily’s lips, “Looks like I’ll be kissing you for a very long time, Potter.”

[belphegor1982]

86. “Don’t be scared I’m right here” prompt for sibling feels between Jonathan and Evie! Maybe when they’re kids and Jonathan is being a protective big brother?

I finally finished it! Hope you like :o)

The Chimera in the Attic

“Don’t be so loud,” whispers Jonathan, and Evelyn does her best to pin him with the most beady glare she can manage in the dark. It’s not so easy as it used to be. Jonathan has grown a lot in the past few months, and Evelyn remains somewhat on the small side for an eight-year-old girl.

He’s still skinny, though. The dressing gown Dad gave him for his birthday, saying he’d grow into it, is still too long and baggy for him.

“I’m not loud.”

“You are! I don’t even know how someone so small can be making so much noise while she walks! What are your slippers made of, solid lead?”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps talking!”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

Evelyn glowers, but forces her voice down.

“Yes,” she mutters with a sigh – carefully, so she doesn’t blow her candle.

“Good show. Now – toes first, and then your heel. Mind the stairs, we’re almost there.”

It seemed a good idea to ask Jonathan for help – and, if she’s honest, it probably is – but she still doesn’t like it when her brother decides to be The Grown-up. It doesn’t suit him at all. But if she is to retrieve the books Mrs Pemberton, the housekeeper and household dragon, confiscated from her and locked up in the attic, then Jonathan and his baffling (and highly dubious) talent for opening doors is just the man for the job.

The fact that this ‘man’ is a thirteen and a half boy notwithstanding, of course.

And to be completely honest, creeping around the dark, silent house around midnight in his company feels much less daunting than it would on her own.

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t have taken my books away,” she mumbles while the both of them tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the fifth step that always creaks.

Jonathan shoots her a look that has more than a little commiseration to it. But he doesn’t make a sarcastic comment like she half-thought he might. He also doesn’t point out that she’d need only wait till next Friday for Salwa and John Carnahan to come back from their trip. He knows few things are more important to her than her books.

“No,” he murmurs, “they wouldn’t have. But maybe you need a little more… I don’t know, subtlety?”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, don’t leave the books lying around when you know Mrs Pemberton doesn’t approve of you reading treatises that would give any normal adult a headache, especially when you should be sleeping. You might want to keep them hidden.”

Evelyn concedes the point silently.

True to his word, Jonathan only needs a few minutes until the lock gives up. She probably shouldn’t be so impressed.

The South Wing attic is one of the few places in the house that still don’t have electricity – not even gaslight. It’s essentially a large lumber room filled with steamer trunks, some full, some empty, cabinets and bookshelves devoid of books but filled with bric-a-brac, and more generally everything that’s not too sensitive to light or dust. The windows have only had windowpanes for a few years, and that’s solely because Mum and Dad wanted to use the space to store their travel diaries, inconvenient heirlooms, and everything they couldn’t find room for downstairs.

At this hour of the night, it looks empty and huge, and dark, and utterly uninviting.

Evelyn and Jonathan remain frozen on the threshold for a few seconds. Then Evelyn takes a deep breath, hears Jonathan do the same, and they enter.

From there they split up to search, Evelyn hoping the dust won’t ruin her slippers, Jonathan swearing quietly every time he stubs his toe against something. For some reason it feels even more important to be silent here than it did downstairs, which is silly. This attic is not anywhere near sleeping quarters.

Evelyn lifts a pile of old almanacs, careful not to breathe in the dust that goes flying when she puts them down. Then an unexpected noise behind her makes her gasp.

“It’s just me,” whispers Jonathan, who somehow crept up on her. Evelyn is all the more miffed because for once it doesn’t appear he did it on purpose. “Did you find anything?”

“Just these.”

“Are you sure this is where Mrs Pemberton took your books? She could’ve hidden them in her lair with the rest of her hoard – ugly portraits, stuffed lizards, human remains –”

“Oh, shush.”

Mrs Pemberton came with the house, so to speak, and watched over their father’s childhood with a gimlet eye. She’s very fond of John Carnahan and respected Salwa al-Masri from the moment Dad brought his new wife to England, which is a lot more than can be said for the rest of his family and household staff then. But she is Proper and Traditional and rules the house with an iron hand when the master and mistress are away. Jonathan sometimes half-jokes that he doesn’t see much difference between home and school as far as caning and bleeding knuckles are concerned. Evelyn really hopes he’s exaggerating on both accounts; but the last time Mrs Pemberton caught him scaling the vines on the west façade to sneak into a room, he held himself oddly for a few hours, and that wasn’t because he’d fallen down. He also made Evelyn promise she wouldn’t say a word to their parents, so she kept mum, but she can’t help thinking it’s not right. Mum and Dad never hit Jonathan when he misbehaves.

In normal circumstances she wouldn’t pick at his language. But a dark, dusty attic in the middle of the night is the last place in which she wants to hear about human remains.

“I saw her climb the stairs with all three books and come back down without them,” she points out. “She must have left them here.”

Logic has always been her most trusted ally. Jonathan, knowing this, nods.

“All right, so they’re somewhere in this mess. Now. If I was a fire-breathing dragon who eats twelve naughty children for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper every day, where would I hide forbidden but valuable books?”

Evelyn can’t help a silent chuckle. Then her eyes fall on a cabinet in a corner, standing in a pool of shadow.

She nudges her brother and they silently make their way towards the cabinet.

A rustling sound in the near distance makes them both freeze. The little candleholder trembles a little in her fist; with her other hand she instinctively searches for Jonathan’s.

“Don’t be scared,” she hears him whisper, “I’m right here.” But his hand is none too steady in hers as he grips back.

“I’m not scared.” Jonathan gives her a look before he bends to inspect the lock of the cabinet, so she insists, “I’m not! I was just startled.”

“Right,” he says with that small infuriating grin of his, like he hasn’t jumped as well at the sudden noise. “All right, then, let’s see…”

A minute later he manages to open the door just a sliver and peek inside.

“Well, good news, there’s your books. I can see the name of one of those dratted Bembridge fellows on the cover. Bad news: something’s blocking the door and I can’t get it open without forcing it – hang on –”

Jonathan pulls on the door, Evelyn steps closer to hear what he’s muttering, and that is when a few things seem to fall on their heads at the same time: something heavy, a cloud of dust, an angry screech, the flapping of wings brushing their skulls. Jonathan yelps, Evelyn cries out. Her candle falls to the floor, instantly snuffed out, but the light managed to give her a glimpse of teeth, feathers, and – scales?

A hand grasps hers and tugs her onwards. She runs along without hesitation, barely registering that they’re racing down the stairs and across the wing to Jonathan’s room, until they’re safe and secure behind the door, covered in dust, chests heaving, their hands on their knees.

“What the hell was that?” gasps Jonathan. Evelyn is too out of breath to answer right away. She’s too busy trying to shake the sensation of lightning coursing through her whole body, like her whole person is reduced to a small human-sized wire.

When she’s able to make sounds other than panting, she groans.

“My books! We forgot the books!”

“We were attacked by a monster and that’s the first thing you say?”

“But that was the entire reason we… We have to go back!”

“And we will, but in the morning, when we can see more than five inches in front of us. And won’t be set upon by nocturnal chimeras.”

“Well,” Evelyn declares mulishly, struggling against the remnants of the terror that made her fly down the stairs as fast as though the wings had been hers, “I’m going. I won’t be able to sleep for a while anyway, I might as well have something to do.”

“Evy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’re afraid, of course.”

“Evy.”

“But you will not stop me from—”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. The next thing she knows he drops three heavy volumes into her arms, so covered in dirt one can hardly decipher the titles on the cover.

“Here are your blasted books, you lunatic! And the next time you need something retrieved from wherever it’s ended up then you’re welcome to—”

It’s not easy to embrace another person while holding books that might be a little more massive than one can safely hold with one arm. That doesn’t stop Evelyn from following her impulse and throwing herself in her brother’s arms before he can finish his sentence. Emotions race through her – retroactive fright, a remnant of righteous anger at being denied what she loves most to do, relief at the return of her favourite books – and she knows better than to fight them. Instead she burrows her nose into the front of Jonathan’s dressing gown and lets them run their course.

Jonathan sighs into her hair and wraps his arms around her. If she doesn’t grow taller quickly he’ll soon be able to put his chin on top of her head. Usually she’s tempted to be a little miffed about that. Right now, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“I don’t… I didn’t mean that.”

I know, she thinks, letting the familiarity of his voice and his wiry frame wash the rest of her nerves away. She was fully prepared to march back up those stairs and into the attic, and now she’s unspeakably grateful that she won’t have to.

Later, when they’ve dusted off their nightclothes, Evelyn hops into bed with her brother. She does it every now and then when she can’t sleep for this or that reason, more rarely since he has gone away to Eton and only comes back in the weekends. Even if he complains that her feet are cold he never turns her away. As always, their whispered conversation carries late into the night. Evelyn is drowsing already when she asks, “What do you think happened, exactly, back there?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Jonathan, eyes closed, “and I don’t care. Whatever it was, it won’t bother us now.”

Evelyn agrees and finally falls asleep, secure in the knowledge that she is safe and, perhaps more importantly, so are her books.

※ ※ ※ ※

The next morning, they wake up at an ungodly hour to retrieve Evy’s candleholder and erase all traces that suggest they recently set foot in the attic. They approach the cabinet cautiously, only to find a moth-eaten stuffed crocodile’s head on the floor covered in bird droppings and what looks like a little owl’s feathers. The ‘trophy’ – probably older than their parents – must have been left on top of the cabinet for ages, wedged against the top of the door, effectively preventing anyone from opening the door completely.

Jonathan looks down, then up, then down again, and says, “There’s our chimera. Looks like we survived a crocodile attack last night.”

Evelyn makes a face. The memory of their undignified rout stings, especially now that it’s obvious there was nothing to get so scared about. Startled, yes; scared, no.

“I wonder if we frightened that poor bird away for good,” she muses as they set everything to rights as silently as they can.

Jonathan, who wandered off looking for the point of entry, looks over his shoulder and says, “I hope so. I don’t fancy this attic becoming an aviary. There are too many interesting things here to leave them left for the birds, so to speak.” He plugs an owl-sized hole in a windowpane with a rag and adds with a grin, “The things you’ll do for books, I swear.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Evelyn counters, feeling a similar wide smile make its way on her face.

And Jonathan, who usually has a ready sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, only shakes his head with a snort.

Books – both their contents and their physical form – are important to Evelyn in a way they aren’t to Jonathan. Perhaps they’ll never really understand each other on this. But perhaps it doesn’t really matter, either.

After all, even if he isn’t up to standing up to a chimera in the dead of night any more than she is, her big brother still knows her well enough to know that Evelyn Carnahan will only leave a book behind in the direst of circumstances.

(There you go! Not my best prose, I’m sorry, but it’s the best I could hammer out into shape ^^’ I have a lot of feels about these two and I’m always glad for the chance to explore these feels, so thank you, dear anon 💜)

[alice-dont-break]

staying in bed | janthony one shot

thanks for the prompt @aangstlord 💕

When Jasmine first woke up, she didn't need to open her eyes to know exactly what was going on around her. She could feel the weight of Anthony's arm laying heavy around her waist, the bump of his nose pressed against the back of her shoulder, and the support of his hips behind her own, and all this told her that she was in the same tight embrace that soothed her to sleep last night.

After a few deep breaths to savor the last of her peaceful rest, she blinked away the sleep from her eyes, and rolled over to face his chest, carefully so that the protective arm around her torso would keep its close guard. Once they were chest to chest with her hands pinned between them, she buried her face into his bare skin and inhaled the woodsy scent of his body wash that remained. His heart thumped against her forehead, reminding her of the simple beat that never failed to enchant her.

Eventually, the mindless musings of her fingertips around the ridges of his muscles roused Anthony as well. "G'morning, love you," he grumbled, rubbing his hand across her back a couple times, and pressing a kiss wherever on her head he could reach. One night when Jasmine's clinginess was amplified by a bottle of wine, she'd asked why people always say "goodnight, I love you", but then not do the same in the morning. He'd realized that her loose lips had spilled a great point, and since then they've stuck to starting their days as sweetly as they end them.

Careful not to bump him around, Jasmine shuffled up the bed so her head lay on Anthony's pillow close enough for their lips to meet in a gentle kiss. "Morning, love you too," she mumbled back, letting out a sleepy giggle as their noses bumped. "Sorry I woke ya."

"S'okay baby, was a pretty nice way to wake up," he smirked, watching how her tired eyes softened for him. The hint of sun sneaking past the curtains was still a mere suggestion of light, allowing their day to freeze at dawn. Just a hint of amber illuminated Jasmine's face, as his thumb traced along the highlight of her cheekbone. Surely he'd already memorized every detail of her face, but every morning still felt like rediscovering a wonder.

"Was it?" She teased, knowing with how perfect it was for her, it had to be just as lovely for him. They adored their lazy mornings together, especially when they'd spent far too many apart lately.

"Mhm, pretty girl all wrapped up in me? Can't think of anything nicer than that." He inched his face a little closer to hers so their smiles could brush against one another, allowing for more and more stolen kisses without even having to move their necks, though for a sensation so sweet they sure would have crossed oceams. The chaste little pecks felt so delightfully easy and always within reach that they kept taking advantage, allowing the lazy kisses to take over their consciousness until their eyes were fluttering shut. They weren't asleep again per se, just peacefully drifting between kisses and enjoying the gentle caresses without having any other thoughts to tend to.

Time seemed to slip away from them for a while, until Anthony opened his eyes and reached up to press a kiss to Jasmine's forehead. This one was just a little firmer than the ones before, trying to pull her out of her haze and safely back to him without startling her out of the peaceful trance they'd both faded into. When he pulled away, she nudged her head forward again to demand another kiss there, and he smiled against her skin at her neediness.

"Your lips feel nice," she rasped through a gravelly voice that hadn't been used for a while. She eagerly tilted her chin up, hoping for yet another kiss, which he happily provided.

Once she pulled back, he peppered another couple to the corners of her mouth, pulling a little giggle from her lips as she smiled up at him. "Yours feel pretty nice too, darling."

"What time is it?"

"Dunno lovely, don't think it's morning anymore though." He responded with another quick kiss to her temple, then rolled onto his back, angling himself up with an extra pillow behind his neck.

As soon as there was space between them, Jasmine started whining and followed him, wrapping both her arms around the one laying closest to her. She hugged it to her chest and nuzzled in closer to use his bicep as a pillow for her head. He nudged down to press a kiss to her temple as she settled into her new position that he wouldn't dare to move her from now. She looked far too tranquil to disrupt.

Somehow, taking complete control of his arm still hadn't felt like enough, so she threw her leg over his to inch just a little bit closer. The skin her feet brushed over felt cold though, so she hooked her ankle around his calf and rubbed it gently up and down, hoping to warm him up a little under the covers. He always ran a little cold, but she was warm in the mornings. She felt like she could melt into the sheets that carried all the heat they'd built between them overnight. When they didn't get out of bed all morning, the warmth never had a chance to escape, so she felt very content being all wrapped up, and eager to share that comfort with him.

The skin that pressed against her cheek carried his woodsy scent, and she inhaled deeply to enjoy a full helping. Each of their scents had lingered on the sheets for so long now overnight that they'd blended together into something that was distinctly them. It wasn't the sweetness of Jasmine's vanilla, or the musk of Anthony's cedar; it was a perfect blend. Now though, she wanted his scent to overpower hers because she simply adored it. Sometimes it felt like she needed it just to breathe a little deeper, and that was certainly the effect it was having now.

With every inhale, Jasmine felt his scent stealing more and more of her consciousness. This paired with the sonorous beating of his heart, the sweetness of his lips lingering on her own, and the expanse of warmth from the space his hand covered on her back left her senses swimming in his essence. Every squeeze of her shoulder or kiss to the crown of her head coaxed her to sink even deeper until her mind was fully submerged.

"Love you so much," she murmured against his skin.

"Love you too angel." The drawl of her dulcet tones as they slung together told him she was drifting back to sleep, so he spoke just as softly.

"So, so much..." she continued, "just want you and me always. Doesn't matter what or where, jus' you and me doin' us. Just us things with you n'me." His hand swept up her back to cradle her neck as she twisted to look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, looking just as dazed as she sounded.

"Sounds perfect, baby," he smiled.

"And your hands on me... and all 'round me... can be all warm... can we do that?"

Anthony hummed along to her musings, loving the way her voice softened as sleep started to take over. He had to purse his lips together in a smile to stop himself from chuckling at her reverie because the last thing he wanted to do was interrupt. "Course we can, Jazzy."

Her subconscious was speaking to him and he fancied drinking up every word. "Think your hands could hold all o'me, big n'strong, just like you... s'why you keep me so safe... so lucky."

"Always gonna keep you safe baby, and I'm just as lucky," he whispered, muffled by the kiss he pressed to her temple. "How 'bout you close your eyes now and let my hands hold all of ya, hm?"

"Need you to.. need you to know I love you first," she mumbled back.

Her eyes started drooping shut, giving Anthony just enough space to press a gentle kiss to her eyelids. "I know, sweetheart, promise I know," he whispered, letting his featherlight words melt away the tension prying her eyes open until they lolled all the way shut. His lips pressed to her temple where they'd linger as he wrapped his leg over hers to draw her in snug.

Anthony could have probably slipped back into sleep himself, but the long distance stints had made it too hard to sleep away moments this precious. Whenever she fell asleep in his arms, her lips curled into a faint smile as her breathing eased into a steady rhythm that lulled him like his own lullaby. Once in a while, her eyelashes would flutter through a dream, perhaps tickling whatever patch of his skin she'd nestled into, or a trill would slip from her lips. Such small ripples through her sleep could only flood his awareness like tidal waves if he kept his eyes on her, keeping a careful watch while his fingertips ghosted over the features that he knew as well as his own.

Time seemed to escape them yet again, as moments were just breaths that they shared together, and those were limitless. They could stay here for as long as they needed; they knew they were always safe here and there were no expectations and no pressures to draw them away. Eventually her eyes opened again, though not because of a far-too-early alarm clock, or erratic breathing from a nightmare, or a tug from the pressures of work. She was simply rested, and ready to be present in the moments they were sharing.

"Think we should get up?" He asked between the soft kisses he was now peppering across the crown of her head.

"And do what, cuddle on the couch instead? What's the point?" She giggled and his cheeks warmed at the most precious sound and feeling of the tickle of her breath on his arm. She started pressing little kisses to whatever skin was there, and he wondered how he could ever possibly say no to her.

"Alright sweetheart, lazy day then," he smiled, reaching over with his free arm for the television remote. He kept the volume low, just so whatever was on HGTV could fill the room with some background noise. Jasmine wanted to watch a little, despite being on her side, so she released his arm and curled her upper back more, letting her head rest sideways across his stomach. She could see the television now, but still couldn't really pay attention, as now she had Anthony's hands in her hair to distract her.

His fingers threaded through, finding any untangled curls he could and looping them around his fingers a few times. Her hair felt like satin to his touch, and he loved how separating the strands seemed to release more of the sweet shea scent of her shampoo. Soon his fingers would delve back in, letting his nails graze over her skin then pressing with the pads of his finger tips to ease any tension across her scalp. The mindless playing and massaging soothed them both, as the whirring of the television just added score to a scene that was already the perfect image of serenity.

As comfy as Jasmine was, she didn't care enough about the television to let it stop her from wrapping her arms around him any longer. She straightened out, placed a hand on his chest and tucked herself under his arm so she could bury her face into his side. The little whine muffled by how she pressed into his skin was nearly inaudible, but he could translate with ease. He pulled her in tighter as soon as she settled, resting a hand on her shoulder to secure her as close as possible. Once they made sure no air could sneak between them, he pulled the fallen blanket up over her shoulder and held it in place as he kneaded the muscles there, which somehow always seemed to be pulled taut until she'd melt into his embrace.

All the stress of filming, writing, press, and travel weighted heavily on Jasmine, meaning even the most peaceful moments could be invaded with the pressure to always be going. As if she were cued by tension in her back, she leaned to look up at Anthony with her lip sucked between her teeth. "Is.. is this dumb? I probably should get up and do something... who am I to take a whole day off?" Her words were breathless and flustered as she scoured her mind for reasons this scene that felt so perfect could actually be wrong.

His lips shifted to the creases appearing across her forehead, giving the most gentle caresses until the muscles there released. "You are a beautiful woman who is ahead of schedule on every single project, who deserves a break, and who has a lovestruck fiance craving a chance to take care of her. Relaxing is the smartest thing you can do for yourself right now baby, can't have you burning out, right?"

"I.. I guess." She shrugged up to be drawn deeper into the kisses to her forehead, and focused on using the slow pace of his presses as a guide for her breath and her thoughts.

She got to that ultimate point of relaxation quickly, as the tension released from her shoulders under Anthony's touch. Feeling her sink deeper into him, his hand slid up from her shoulder to her cheek, where he rubbed his thumb gently. "There you go baby," he cooed, barely above a whisper, "nothin' to do today but relax."

They'd been in bed for so long now that they would certainly be stiff when they got up, but that didn't matter. They were absolutely where they were meant to be, as the bed had assumed their combined shape. Their bodies lay heavy in the mattress, as the pillows curved around Anthony's neck and throw blankets bunched up around them. The wrinkled comforter and sheets weren't the only things that enveloped them in this perfect warmth though; they knew it was their arms and lips and legs and bodies melded together, along with the sweet words and assurances and the aura of love that surrounded them that would always give them this bubble to hide away in. They could stay in bed all day because everything they needed was already there.

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

2/6/9 - Sobbe 🧡🧡🥰

There might be a part two of this, if I can get my act together.

2- Hogwarts!au ~ 6-fake dating ~ 9- "why are you awake so late?"

Special thanks to @gukyi 's prompt list

Requests are open!

Robbe found himself in the astronomy tower that night, not because he had any prefect duties there, but because he liked the view. The Great Lake was a giant mirror in the darkness. Where he lived during the summer, streetlights always washed out the stars. He should probably get on patrol and do some actual work before someone came around and sent him back there.

He climbed up onto the window ledge, carefully placing his feet to avoid falling out. The astronomy tower offered the best views because there was no glass to look through. That, and the height. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something streak through the open air. Might be a shooting star. Robbe braced his hands on the windowsill and craned his neck out.

Nothing. Of course it was nothing. He sat back into the shadows.

A cloaking charm was in order, for the sake of discretion. He wouldn’t want to draw any of the other prefects up to his safe place. Especially not Noor. Most prefects travelled in pairs when they canvased the hallways—Noor tagged along with Britt and Britt’s troublemaker of a boyfriend. When he and Noor were together, it’d been a foursome. Not that they’d been together. His fellow Hufflepuff prefect, Jana, stuck to him like glue after her breakup went a little sour. Tonight, he’d ditched her outside the Great Hall.

Something much bigger flashed past, temporarily blocking the light of the moon. Not bigger—closer.

“Shit!”

Okay, that was definitely something.

Robbe looked out the window again, his eyes strained. Nothing out here was lit properly, save for the Lake, which had mother nature doing all the work. He could use Lumos to give a little bit of light, except it would give away his location to anyone outside. Hogwarts retained the same peaceful stillness as ever. Not a ripple on the surface of the water.

Something hit the castle wall, so close to Robbe that he almost fell backward off the ledge in surprise.

“Come on... turn on...”

Robbe considered announcing his presence. Whatever this person was doing, they probably shouldn’t be doing it. Heights like this meant broomsticks, broomsticks right here meant prohibited behavior, prohibited behavior this late meant hefty punishment. It was his moral responsibility as prefect to stop it.

Not that he really cared much for his moral responsibility as a prefect.

He clenched his hand around his wand. “Hello?”

Soft music wafting down from above, muffled as if someone was playing it too loudly through headphones. Whoever it was, they seemed to be circling the tip of the tower, around ten feet over his head.

“Hello?” he tried again. “No students should be out of bed right now.” Which, of course, they knew. But it brought the situation under his control.

The music got a little bit louder. Robbe heard heavy footfalls on the slanted roof, maybe heavy enough to jar the shingles from their careful positions. Might as well introduce himself. He put on his prefect face, the no-nonsense pantomime of confidence that he gave to pretty much everybody around Hogwarts, and jumped down from the windowsill like a good narc would. Detention for all.

“Hey!” he called at the ceiling. “Come down.”

No answer. The music got louder. Robbe didn’t recognize the song, nor could he hear the lyrics very well. Something slow about a guy named Tom and a planet.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’m a prefect. This is against the rules!” Fuck, Jens and Moyo would make fun of him for ages if they heard him say that. Robbe tried not to cringe at his own behavior. “Turn down your fucking music.” Except, all the f-bomb did was make him sound more childish. He wasn’t exactly flourishing in this role.

Whoever was up there cranked the music to full blast. Enough to wake up the whole campus. Footsteps sounded on the roof again, and a boy slid in through the window, his robes ruffled and dirty, his short, bleach-blond hair sticking straight up with electricity. He brought along with him a strange orb of light balanced in his hand, enough make out his face and to see his green and silver tie was woefully tied. It was Britt’s boyfriend. That much was clear from the attractive cut of his jaw—no, not attractive—never mind. Shit, what was his name? He left his broom on the sill and jumped down to Robbe with unparalleled grace. When his feet hit the flooring, the smack echoed all the way down the tower.

“Long time no see. Did Britt send you?” he asked Robbe. No one anywhere near the spiral staircase could miss it.

“Students aren’t allowed to be out of bed.” Robbe lifted his head, hoped it emanated authority when he spoke. “I’m sure you know that—”

“Tell her I don’t want to talk to her.”

“You’re not supposed to be—”

“It’s over. Finite. Done. Fuck.” He spun in a circle and said, “Britt, wherever you are, it’s over.”

Sander! That was his name. Sometimes, when Robbe went out with Noor, Sander and Britt came along. The foursome. And maybe, sometimes, Robbe would watch him across the table instead of Noor when they were drinking, resting his head on his arms. Sander tended to end up in detentions, though, and there were only so many trips to Hogsmede per semester. Robbe didn’t spend a lot of time in the Slytherin dungeons. Not enough to see Sander around. You know, nothing that meant anything.

The prefects, of course, heard all about Sander, because Britt was Head Girl. He managed to push rules in ways that Jens, Robbe, and Moyo never could.

Everyone in the nearby dormitories must have been awake by now.

Robbe kept his cool, improvised. “Why are you up so late?” A little confidence went a long way when it came to laying down the law.

“Avoiding her. Tell her that.”

“It’s not allowed. It’s going to be twenty points from Slytherin. And detention.”

Sander crossed his arms over his chest. The top three buttons on his shirt were one hole off, as if he’d dressed in a hurry. The sleeve of his robe was torn. “Tell Britt I don’t care.”

“I’m not with Britt,” said Robbe. “I’m a prefect. It’s twenty points.”

“Huh.”

A gust through the window dropped the temperature at least five degrees within the tower. Something blew from the roof and fluttered to the ground far below—a blanket, maybe? The wind joined with the music for an awfully melancholy wake-up call. The students would be pissed.

“Turn off the music.” Robbe gestured to the ceiling. “You can have your breakup drama during hours when people are awake.”

Sander waved a dismissive hand. “It has boundaries already. You can’t hear it outside of the bubble I made. You’re not with Britt? Thought Noor might have—”

“No. How big’s the bubble?”

“The tower. Plus a few feet, I guess.”

“It’s still detention.”

Sander took a few steps toward Robbe, appraising him like a piece of artwork in a museum. His gaze, or the windchill, gave Robbe goosebumps. He remembered staring at Sander’s hands, wrapped around a butterbeer glass, while the girls gossiped into their chips on a weekend. The casual air of the unattainable. But that didn’t mean anything.

If the punishment was secure, there shouldn’t be anything wrong with asking questions. “What—um—what happened with Britt?”

“Same thing that always does. I don’t know why I bother.” Sander flicked his wand behind his back, and the music got even louder. Now the lyrics were clearer: this is ground control to major Tom— “Head girl. You’d know.”

“You guys were pretty happy last time I saw you.”

“Always pretty happy until we’re not.”

Robbe laughed. “Yeah, I think that’s how happiness works. I liked Noor alright until I didn’t.” He covered his ears. “Would you turn that shit down? It’s awful.”

“Nah,” said Sander. “Good music. Britt keeps making a big deal when I play it in the common room.” He hesitated. “You know that. You and Noor, like a month ago? Pretty sure she chewed me out in front of you guys at the Three Broomsticks.” A pause. “Yes, definitely. You had on your Quidditch stuff that day; I remember.” He carded a hand through his hair, so Robbe could see the dark brown roots coming in underneath the bleach blond. Hair like that glowed in the dark. No wonder it had been so easy to see when Sander flew by earlier.

The day in question was a bit of a blur for Robbe.

“Britt loves doing shit like that,” Sander continued. “What happened with Noor?”

It was long past time to send Sander away. Something pushed Robbe to reassure Sander of something instead—of what, he wasn’t quite sure. “Noor and I were never together.” Maybe it was the fact that, from this distance, he could see that Sander’s eyes were the same color as the star reflections across the lake. He’d always assumed they were black. “You’re mad because Britt chews you out? You kind of deserve—”

“Mm, more treats me like a kid, y’know?”

Their faces were awfully close together now.

It was nothing.

Robbe wondered why his pulse was speeding up. He wondered if Sander could hear it. But then—any moment like this one, alone in a tower with someone beautiful, would be enough to make one’s heart work overtime.

Not that Robbe found Sander beautiful.

Why did Sander know what sweater he was wearing on a date, when Robbe had blocked out Sander’s name?

“And you come up here to ignore her?” Robbe asked, because if he didn’t, he didn’t know where his mind would go. And that wasn’t cool. Sander held the light orb beneath their chins, illuminating their faces in the dark. His breath ghosted across Robbe’s skin when he scoffed.

“Yeah, but I mean…”

Angry voices sounded from the staircase. More than one. Robbe’s ability to hear them at all over the music was a bad sign. Was the air thinner up here? Robbe froze in place, leaned a little bit back for a clear view of Sander’s face.

Sander jerked away. They rose in volume by the minute, climbing upward, getting closer. “That’s her. I know what she sounds like.”

“If it’s her, it’s Noor.”

“What’s upsetting about Noor? Thought you two liked each other.”

“I did like her.” And it was true, in one way or another. He did. Just… not enough. Not as much as everyone else thought he should. Tonight especially, when all he wanted was to see the stars over the lake, he did not want to deal with her chit chat. Or the way she looked at him when she thought they were going to kiss. No thank you. Not up his alley. “She’s a little—she wants to—You’re still getting detention for this. I thought there was a bubble!”

Britt and Noor probably heard the music. Robbe’s cloaking charm from earlier might prevent him from being seen, but it only did its job for viewers standing five feet away or more. Further would be more advanced magic. He wasn’t an Auror, after all.

The voices only got closer.

“Shit,” said Robbe. He considered climbing out onto Sander’s rooftop perch, although if Sander thought Britt had found him earlier, that was something she already knew about.

“Sander?” came a voice from the stairwell. Fears confirmed.

There were several ways Robbe could take control of this situation. Number one: he could wait and get Sander in trouble as intended, even if it meant having to walk to the Hufflepuff common room with Noor trailing along behind. He’d never hear the end of it. Two: he could make a break for it with the cloaking spell and pretend he’d never visited the tower at all. A stronger option. Too bad Sander would snitch on him instantly. Three: he could somehow get Sander out of it with him, which didn’t seem fair.

“Noor’s all over you?” Sander rubbed his palms against his battered robes. He chewed on the edge of his lip. “Tough for you.”

“Not tough, I mean, I wouldn’t say—”

“Okay, I have a quid pro quo plan.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Go along with me here.” Sander lay a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, and it became terribly obvious that Sander was a good four inches taller. They didn’t have much time before the girls would arrive. “On the fly, but y’know. I’m good. It will work. Women… they fume, but they let it go. You know?”

“I don’t know.”

“All the way or no way.”

I don’t know what that means.”

Sander gave a devilish smile. “Double whammy. Britt and Noor."

Screw it. Robbe didn’t want to talk to Noor. He wanted her off his back and he wanted the boys to stop talking about her when he was around. “All the way?”

Then it happened.

The door to the tower’s zenith flew open. Sander took Robbe by the back of the neck, the communication passing between them in an instant. Sander paused less than a breath away from Robbe’s lips, giving him time to stop it if he wanted to. Then they were kissing, Sander’s hands in Robbe’s hair, Robbe’s in the air like a surrender. Sander backed him up against the stone wall, pinned his arms up on either side, and closed his own eyes as Britt’s wand threw them both into something sickeningly close to daylight.

It wasn’t Robbe’s first kiss. He wasn’t a fan of kissing.

All in all though, pretty solid.

Sander’s tongue tasted like chocolate. Might have liked it a little.

Might have thought about watching Sander across the table in a bar, something jealous and acrid burning in the bottom of his throat when Sander kissed Britt.

Not a lot. Not enough to mean anything.

“What the hell are you doing?” Britt planted her hands on her hips, her appearance sour. Her hair stuck out in a dozen different directions as if it had been hexed to float as such. From the disheveled state of her robes, Robbe could guess that her night had been far more difficult than his. His pulse hammered at heart attack speeds in his chest. Was this what dying felt like? Why were his hands tingling?

Wasn’t that great of a kiss.

Okay, but not like… not like Noor kissed him.

Nothing like that.

“Ow, my eyes,” said Sander, breathless. “Privacy.”

He went back in for the second kiss, and Robbe let him. Just let him. Fucking hell. More short and sweet than the last. Robbe’s hands shook, his whole body shook. All the blood in his veins pumped straight into his head. He wasn’t allowed to want something like this.

Noor clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Sander,” Britt repeated. “What the fuck?”

“We’re—” said Robbe. “It’s not—”

Sander, however, was faster. “You’ve brought your boyfriend here before.”

Both Noor and Britt were incredulous. “What?”

Sander owned the situation. That was Robbe’s job. “I’m allowed to do it, too,” Sander said. “Bring my boyfriend.” His eyes met Robbe’s. This is the plan, go along with it.

Robbe went red. Now that he could see Sander completely in the light from Britt’s wand, he could tell how realistic this ploy was. Sander’s shirt, the buttons! Streaks of dust stained the white material brown, the kind of dirt one might find caked to the walls of this very tower. Whatever he’d been doing earlier, it wasn’t much of a stretch to imply he’d been making out with Robbe instead. Oh fuck no. Robbe didn’t sign up for something like this.

“You’re not—he’s not—” Noor fumbled with her words. “This—”

Sander smiled. He looped his arm around Robbe’s shoulders. “Recent thing.”

Robbe felt like he was about to be sick. No, seriously. Like he was about to drop dead on the cobblestone flooring of the astronomy tower. What would the boys say about something like this? Jens would be okay, maybe, and Aaron would be insensitive but supportive. Moyo… that was a wildcard. Robbe would need to book it back to the dormitories to get ahead of the rumor before it spread too far. This couldn’t be happening.

He tried to take deep, grounding breaths. Sander’s skin on his neck did not help.

He did not like the kiss.

He did not like that kiss.

“It’s actually kind of late,” Sander continued. “We should really be heading to bed. Accio player.” A CD compact flew down through the window and into his open palm. So that was what made the music? A tiny enchanted compact? He slid it into the pocket of his robes and the music cut off.

Noor nodded, bewildered. She put a hand on Britt’s arm. “Um, well… patrol’s all done. Might as well. Sorry to… uh, sorry to bother you.”

“You’re not together,” said Britt, like she hadn’t heard. “You’re doing this to get back at me, and the stupid music—”

Robbe wasn’t buzzing from a kiss. He wasn’t shaking from a kiss. This was something Sander did to get Britt off his back for a night, nothing to worry about, nothing that would continue.

Noor was a better kisser. She used less tongue and didn’t taste like marinara.

Robbe was always a fan of marinara.

“Recent thing,” he echoed.

A watch on Sander’s wrist beeped twelve-thirty. Outside the astronomy tower window, the Great Lake reflected the night sky with seamless synchronicity. Wouldn’t the boys just love to hear about this? Wouldn’t they just love—Robbe took one more fleeting glance outside, a castle bathed in the moonlight. He needed to get out of here. He needed to run. This was an arrangement to get Noor off his back.

“I’ll walk you to the common room,” Sander said, casting lumos. He brushed past the girls, took them down the spiral staircase, grabbed Robbe by both shoulders. “Cool, quid pro quo. It’s taken care of. No detention?”

How Robbe mustered the strength to speak, he’d never know. “This is just a bigger mess. Still detention.”

Sander squeezed Robbe’s hand. “Yeah, but so much more fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He took the path to the left to the dungeons.

Robbe sprinted the rest of the way to his bed, breezing by Jens, Jana, Moyo, and Aaron’s little huddle in the common room. Straight beneath the covers. The curtains pulled. He swore he could hear Sander’s music from half a castle away. No way could he wake up tomorrow and face the implications of tonight. No way. The door to the dormitory opened again, closed quietly behind. It was Jens. it had to be Jens.

“What shit are we into this time?” came Jens’ familiar tone.

Robbe choked on the sentence as he spit it out. “I think I’m dating someone.”

[wastelandcth]

be kind - cth

anon requested: can we get a lil piece inspired by be kind by Halsey & marshmallow?

summary: loving calum is a lot of things, like a windy day at the beach. 

author’s notes:i love doing song request and i hope you’ve all been liking them! hope you guys enjoy! 

warnings: angst, calum is feeling down about life. 

masterlist 

Loving Calum had been something new. It was falling in love with the unknown and diving headfirst. Falling in love with Calum felt like all the bad things in life disappeared and all that was left was him. It was him and the way his smile seemed to light up the room. It was the way his laugh echoed through your soul and warmed you from the inside out. Loving Calum felt familiar and like a rush of adrenaline all at once, like driving down an empty highway with the windows down while screaming out the words to your favorite song.

Calum wasn't who most people thought he was. He was a soft and quiet soul, one who could speak a few words and leave you breathless. He was spontaneous even when his thoughts ran through his mind at lightspeed and it seemed like he'd been lost for far too long inside of himself. It wasn't his fault, years of fame and rumors about him made him hide away from most people, made him build up the walls around himself to heal the bruises that had been left behind by mistakes.

The first time you saw him breakdown was when you two were driving down to the beach. He had called you and asked if you were busy, that he'd had a rough day and needed to get his mind off of things. He looked different when you got into the car outside of your apartment, looked like his fingers were bruised from the strings on his bass and his face tired from the fake smile he had worn all day. He didn't look like the Calum you had become used to seeing most day, the bright eyes and shiny smile replaced by a stone-cold face and dull brown eyes.

The beach was usually a happy place for you both, a place to unwind and take in the warm sun. The day had started off like any other day in California, a cloudy morning sky that seemed to disappear as the city went into motion and woke up. Calum had been at the studio since before you'd woken up, his mind too occupied to send his daily good morning message to you. By midday, when you were working on lunch for yourself, the clouds had returned to the sky and seemed to darken up, almost as if the Earth itself could tell that something was off. As the beach got closer and closer, Calum grew silent and the low volume on the radio only seemed to make the tension in the car higher.

You two sat on the sandy dunes for what seemed like hours, watching the waves crashing onto the shore. Calum's head was laying on your lap, your fingers running through his recently grown out curls that he had been meaning to cut for a couple of weeks now. His eyes had been shut for a while now, his mind twisting and turning with every wave that crashed in the distance. It almost felt like the seagulls felt his unease because they soon flapped their wings and soared off into the sky as the wind picked up, momentarily floating, stuck in the air before flying off to the unknown.

"I feel like them sometimes." Calum's voice rang in your ears, your shoulders relaxing a bit as you realized he hadn't spoken since you'd gotten into the car with him earlier that day. Your head leaned to one side, your eyes on his as you waited for him to finish his thought.

"Like the birds, I feel like them sometimes." he sighed and sat up, his shoulder against yours as his eyes searched for something, anything in the horizon but it was all dark grey clouds and tall ocean waves. "Like I'm stuck no matter how hard I try to move and get ahead, I'm just...stuck." he shrugged, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he took a shaky breath in.

You were silent, your hand had moved from his curls to his back, where it moved up and down in an attempt to soothe him and try to ground him from wherever he was stuck. You waited, trying to match your breathing to his in an effort to calm him, trying to see if he'd let out more of what had been stuck in his brain.

"You could find someone so much better than me, you know? All I do is bring you trouble and drama. It's not fair to you, they shouldn't talk about you that way and there's nothing I can do to stop them." his voice was quiet, which you were used to but the ocean waves crashing against the shore and the wind made it harder for you to hear him. Harder for you to distinguish his words in between the pain the was mingled into his voice. "Maybe I'm just afraid to admit that I...." the waves crashed harder, the gray sky making his eyes even darker as you tried to listen to him, "It's always been something that I can't deal with and I'm afraid....." the wind was pushing against your eardrums, making you wince but you squeezed Calum's hand, trying to focus on his lips. "...then I'll be alone and I can't do that again."

You knew about his past relationships, he'd talked about it one night where you were both outside watching the stars. He talked about how he was young and foolish to let himself open up to strangers. How he'd been so naive in letting someone into his heart so easily only to have them stomp on it and leave him broken. You knew that Calum had been wary about letting you in, that he'd been nervous about going out on dates and falling back into the endless cycle of hurt that he'd experienced before.

His last relationship had broken him to almost the point of no return. He'd been so close to devoting himself, to giving his heart and soul to someone for the rest of his life, and then all of a sudden, it was gone. Within a matter of minutes, his life was turned upside down and he was left with an empty house and broken heart.

"You know that isn't true." you finally said, when Calum's voice had stopped shaking and his hands ran through his hair, the wind making it run wild. "You know that you're never going to be alone, Calum. You have me, you have the guys, your family, you always have people that are going to love and care for you." Your hair was slapping against your eyes, making you squint as you squeezed Calum's shoulder.

Calum sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as he tried to make sense of your words. His eyes landed back on one of the seagulls that seemed to have stuck around, following the bird as it jumped into the air and trapped itself mid-air, flapping its wings wildly before flying off into the sky.

"You're meant to find love and be happy Calum. You don't have to...you don't have to push me away because you're scared of what happened last time. You know me, you know I would never do what they did to you." she nodded, "I’ll still be here as long as you'll have me. Even when you don't want me here, I'll still try and keep you around. You're my best friend, my soulmate, and I know that's terrifying to think about but...I love you, I don't want you to think that I don't or that I'll ever stop loving you."

The wind had gotten too loud, the chill making your nose red and your hands shaking. The ringing in your ears made it hard for you to know if Calum heard you or if your words flew out with the seagulls. It wasn't long before Calum's hand found yours and he was up leading you back to the car. Calum's hand was always warm, no matter the weather or the temperature. His warmth spread through you quickly and by the time you were both in the car, the wind outside was no longer an issue.

Your combined breathing was the only thing besides the wind that could be heard, Calum's shakier than yours as you both looked out the windshield, waiting for something, anything. You were used to silence with Calum, it was something you found comfort in the moments of silence, but this was different. It was a silence you hadn't experience before with him, it was tense and made you feel like the storm that was brewing outside.

"Did you really mean that?" he whispered after what seemed like ages, "That I was your soulmate?" he asked, his head turning to face you. His eyes weren't so dull anymore, they had a hint of hope in them, that maybe he had found someone who loved him as much as he loved them.

"Of course I did. You know that I'm always here, right? That if you ever need someone to talk to, I can be there. I love you, Calum." you nodded, squeezing his hand gently.

He nodded, looking down at his hand in yours and smiling a bit. The car roared to life and before you knew it, the rain falling against the windshield was background noise to Calum's hums, bringing life back into the car.

Loving Calum was hard. It was hard because you knew that at any moment it could all disappear and you both would have to pick up your own pieces. It was fear of losing the one person who made your warm on the coldest days and it was fear of not being enough to make him warm too. Loving Calum wasn't new anymore, it was coming home at the end of a long day and realizing you have someone to hold you and listen to you. It was soft voices and sweet kisses that you would gladly get a toothache from. Loving Calum was kind words and even kinder actions, it was being there for him when he was at his lows and celebrating the highs. But the best part about loving Calum was that he wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon, he wasn't going to leave you to pick up the pieces by yourself, he was there for you and you were there for him. Loving Calum was loving a stormy beach where the wind is so loud that all you could focus on was his hand in yours and how you kept each other safe.

[rjhpandapaws]

When the Music Plays

Chapter 1: Jimmy's

Tw: Hank alcoholism and suicidal ideation.

A/N: just a reminder that I am playing fast and loose with Canon

Hank wasn’t the best with technology, for that and other reasons he kept clear of androids; but even he knew things were changing. Androids were going missing with more and more frequency. An alarming number of people were reporting being attacked by their androids before they disappeared. It was something bigger than programing issues he suspected, and he also knew he didn’t want to be anywhere near it when things finally fell apart. As usual though it seemed fate wasn’t all that inclined to listen to him. He was doing what he normally did on days like this; avoiding his responsibilities and making a valiant attempt to drown whatever braincells were stubborn enough to stick around. Old Fashioned had gotten too complicated a few hours back so he had moved on to straight whiskey hoping that his consciousness would get the hint and move on as well. He’d pass out at the bar in his usual fashion and Jimmy would wake him up at last call; he’d drive home and pray to get in a wreck, feed Sumo if he survived, sleep, then repeat everything again if he woke up again. Except that tonight his consciousness was too stubborn to leave. He was hunched over the bar, all but face first in his whiskey when Jimmy’s hand came into his line of sight. Once he had Hank’s attention he pointed over his shoulder. Hank turned to look, and standing right there in his sanctuary was a fucking android. Fucking fantastic.

The things Hank has liked about Jimmy’s had been that there were no androids allowed on the premises and everyone would mind their own damn business, too busy drinking to worry about what was happening around them. Except now there was an android in the middle of the bar and everyone was staring at him. What had been a sanctuary was no longer safe. The android was talking and the nice thing about being Deaf was that he could easily ignore him simply by not looking at him. So he turned back to the bar to continue nursing his whiskey. The thing had the nerve to sit beside him. It gave Hank time to finish his whiskey before it tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. Hank thought about trying to ignore him again, but he had the sneaking suspicion that wasn’t going to work. It had after all made itself at home in a clearly anti android bar. It was either here for him, had no sense of self preservation; or if Hank was particularly unlucky, both. He sighed and turned to face the android. Immediately it started talking again. Hank withheld the urge to bash his head against the bar as he picked up his hands to sign, ‘I Deaf.’ The android took a moment of pause. The Led om his temple blinked for a few cycles. It returned to blue and began to sign, ‘You Lieutenant A-N-D-E-R-S-ON?’

Hank wanted to groan, ‘Yes.’ He signed the letter ‘A’ and tapped it over his heart for his rank and name sign in one making things easier, ‘You Want What?’ ‘I Look For You.’ The android signed sharply, ‘I Find You After Five Bars.’ ‘You Want What?’ Hank repeated going as far as to tap the android’s chest. ‘I Sent For You. Active Case.’ It signed, ‘My Name C-O-N-N-O-R.’ He took a moment to to sign ‘machine’ but with the letter ‘C’. ‘I From CyberLife.’ Of course it was. Androids had taken every other job, and at long last it seemed they were coming after his. He sighed and rubbed at his face. ‘Tough Shit. I Not Join You.’ He didn’t even get back to facing the bar again before Connor tapped his shoulder again. Hank groaned and turned back to it. ‘If I Buy Drink You Will Come With Me?’ Connor asked and tipped his head to emphasize the question. Hank figured he had nothing left to lose. Connor had already made it clear he had no plans to leave him alone. So much so that he had made himself comfortable in a place that he clearly wasn’t welcome. ‘Sure. Why Not.’ There was no getting out of this as it was, so he might as well get a free drink out of it.

Hank didn’t see the bill Connor had slid across the counter, but after a long moment Jimmy slid him another whiskey. He took his time with it. He had to work this evening, which most likely meant dealing with Gavin and that wasn’t something he wanted to do sober. Connor just lingered. He sat stiffly in the corner of Hank’s vision, a constant reminder that he was one mistake away from being replaced. He didn’t know what Jeff was thinking with this, but Hank was certain he wasn’t going to like it. Unfortunately, a single glass of whiskey could only be made to last so long. Not to mention that Connor was just outside his line of sight as a solid reminder that there as no getting out of this. He sighed and set the empty glass down on the bar then stood. Connor followed him to the end of the bar and watched him settle the tab. It was creepy as all fuck. He got in his car and Connor got in on the passenger’s side without prompting which unsettled him. Hank reached across the car and opened the glove box. He felt around until he found his hearing aid case. He took them out and put them in, he turned them on, then put the radio on a volume where talking would be unpleasant if not difficult. With everything settled he made his way to the location that Connor had sent to his phone. Hank found androids as a whole to be off putting, not the least of this was because of how real they looked. This of course extended to Connor as well, but there was more to it than that when it came to him. He looked young, innocent almost and it was uncomfortable. Hank didn’t trust it. Androids had no reason to look like that. Something was up, and Hank had a feeling he was going to find out whether he wanted to or not. This android had sought him out and there was a reason for that. It was a mystery he would rather not solve, but he knew that wasn’t up to him either. So in his usual fashion, he planned to ignore it until it became unavoidable. They pulled into the scene and Hank turned off the radio and then turned to face Connor, “Stay in the car.” He said firmly and went so far to sign ‘stay’ as he spoke. “Got it.” Came the android’s response. His voice was somehow both earnest and emotionless. It was added to the list of things Hank found unsettling about Connor. Hank didn’t trust that he would actually stay in the car but he still got out. As much as he disliked it, he still had a job to do. If he got it done quickly enough he might even be able to go back to Jimmy’s and finished his night the right way. Drunk enough that none of this would stick around, or be a distant memory at the very least. He didn’t even make to the police line before he heard the other car door close. As he had suspected, his orders were not the ones Connor was designed to follow.

He waved at Ben who responded in kind then looked over Hank’s shoulder with a perplexed expression. Hank could hazard a guess at who or rather what he was looking at. Connor who was dutifully following him like some overly eager rookie. “I didn’t think you one to get an android.” Ben remarked with notable confusion to his voice. Hank gave another sigh, his annoyance mounting further, “He’s not mine. CyberLife sent it to try and figure out what is going on, I’m just along for the ride I suppose.” Ben eyed Connor and he and Hank both crossed the police line. Hank changed his focus to the scene, though it took longer than he would have liked given the whiskey coursing through his system. He kept one eye on Connor as he looked over the scene. He wanted to know what had happened here as well as what Connor was capable of. From what he had gathered from the landlord Carlos Ortiz hadn’t been the best tenant, or even a good one at that. A Red Ice addiction and an android, those two things never mixed well as it was. Now the guy was dead, and like many androids as of late, his has vanished. Hank figured Connor was here for the android and he would be left with the homicide. It made the most sense. So with that plan in mind he made his way into the house.

The house was a mess, which Hank had for the most part expected. His years spent as a detective were the only things that kept him from losing his stomach at the smell. He talked to some of the other officers that were present before he went over the scene itself. Once he had an idea of what had happened he stepped out of the way to let Connor do his thing. Whatever that happened to be. He watched Connor go over the scene. It was unusual. The android would stand in one corner of the room or a doorway and observe the room as though he was watching something that Hank was unable to see. After that it would go through the room and observe the evidence. The LED would cycle between yellow and blue. What Hank was by no means ready for was when Connor swiped two of his fingers through god only knew what and then licked it. “Jesus Christ. Connor what the fuck?” Hank groaned as he looked away. “My apologies Lieutenant.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry, “I have a fully functional forensic analysis unit and I wanted results on the thirium before it evaporated.” “Just don’t do it again.” Hank replied as he turned back toward Connor. “Got it.” Connor responded in the same empty earnest tone from the car that Hank didn’t trust for a moment.

They moved through the house and the process repeated itself, save for the licking of mystery substances thankfully. The bathroom was a sight to behold. They both agreed that it was the android’s doing, but it was strange. As Hank understood it, android’s didn’t think. There was no way for them to develop beliefs, faith, or create something this ritual. Yet there it was. It was concerning in how unusual it was, and Hank was once again uncomfortable. This android, wherever it was, was defective and dangerous; but it also seemed like something more was going on. Hank couldn’t place what and he was getting more suspicious. Connor was looking up at the ceiling like he could see something that wasn’t there. Hank looked up to be sure, and other than the latch to the crawl space there was nothing up there. Connor’s LED rolled yellow and stayed there for a long moment. He passed Hank on his way out of the bathroom and Hank hesitated before he followed. Connor met him in the hallway with a chair from the dining room and Hank’s confusion only grew. “Connor, what are you doing?” He asked as he turned toward the bathroom. “The android is still here.” Came the distant reply. His voice was still emotionless and flat, but somehow colder at the same time. It teetered on dangerous and Hank didn’t like it.

Hank waited in the hallway because he had the feeling he wouldn’t want to be in the way when Connor came down with that android. He couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling from having heard Connor’s voice so dangerous but flat at the same time. It didn’t suit how he had been built to look, though Hank supposed that was the point. As it stood, the fact that CyberLife felt the need to get personally involved in this; as personal as sending an android to do your bidding could be; made him uncomfortable. Why send an android liaison? What were they trying to do? All of it was suspicious. There was more going on than they were being told, he just needed to figure out what. A commotion from the attic brought him out of his thoughts. Connor had found the android and apparently it didn’t plan to come quietly. Hank moved back toward the main part of the house; he didn’t want to be caught between two androids with something to settle. Connor and the other android got into another smaller scuffle in the front yard before they made their way back to the station to try and question the thing. There had the be a reason for it to have snapped like that. The alternative was that it was only a matter of time before every android out in the world did something like this; and that was not a line of thought that Hank was too keen on entertaining.

Gavin was waiting for them outside of the interrogation room when they got back and Hank had decided that he was way too sober for this. Hank pushed to have Connor question the android, it was the only way he could think of to get answers from it. Though as he watched Connor effortlessly manipulate it he came to regret that. Everything about Connor made him nervous, and that was before the other android had decided to self destruct in its holding cell. As Hand drove home in what was now the early hours of the morning he had the feeling that this was going to get so much worse before it got better. That, and he had better get used to this ever-present discomfort because he likely hadn’t seen every side of Connor yet.

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class