#I’ve had him for like half a frame and he is my favorite the most ever showstopping

[mazojo]

Okay detective boyfriends pop off

[fushic0re]

─ 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗩𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗫 𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — in which you and steve have a secret pornhub channel. 

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. pornography. all the smut; unprotected sex, size kink, cum kink, dirty talk, praise kink, little bit of degradation, exhibitionism.

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

YOU WERE PRACTICALLY BUZZING with excitement and nervousness as you sat patiently on your and Steve’s shared bed. 

Clad in only his crisp button up shirt, you watched him expertly arrange your film setup. The two of you had been planning this for months. It all started off as a fantasy. A kink that the two of you shared but knew you could not act on due to the circumstances of your jobs as Avengers. You had a standard to uphold and enemies lurking in every corner looking for the smallest speck of dirt on you to use as leverage. A sex tape wouldn’t exactly help your cause. 

But one night, you and Steve revisited the topic and came up with a game plan. 

Steve took one of Tony’s cameras. The billionaire techy wouldn’t notice one of his many possessions missing. Plus, its hard drive was impenetrable. There was no possible way anyone was going to get into it besides you two. Steve also managed to get a custom built Stark computer. Tony was thrilled his longtime friend was finally integrating himself into modern technology outside of work. When Steve asked him for brand recommendations, the Stark heir scoffed and without another word, began building the next piece of your plan. Just like everything Stark owned and made, your computer was the best of the best in terms of security. The Avengers’ wi-fi wasn’t exactly hackable either.

Once the logistics were worked out, you and Steve came up with some rules. You were only allowed to film at your residence on the Avengers Compound. This way there would be nothing identifiable in the background that could easily link people to your brownstone in Brooklyn. Obviously, your faces would not be showing. After pulling an all-nighter, the two of you managed to program Tony’s camera so that it automatically cropped your faces out of frame. Lastly – another obvious given – you would only go by aliases. 

Nomad and Lilac.

They were simple and inconspicuous. Lilacs were your favorite flower. After the accords, Steve was a fugitive living the life of a nomad.  

Once the camera was rolling, Steve turned to you with a ravenous expression. 

“You ready, Lilac?” 

You watched yourself getting bent in half and split open by Steve’s cock on the computer screen. The lewd sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and the squelch of your cunt blasted from the speakers. You sat perched on Steve’s lap, the two of you scrolling through the thousands of comments left on the first video posted on your channel. Thousands. 

“Is this what Peter refers to as ‘breaking the internet?” Steve breathed, eyes wide with shock. “About a thousand people in less than 10 hours watched us fuck.” 

“For once in my life, I have absolutely nothing to say.” You stuttered, shaking your head in disbelief. 

The comment section was flooded with praise. 

user1: look at that pretty little cunt

user2: she takes it like a champ

user3: that man is built like a god AND fucks like one too

user4: he’s basically breaking her and half and she’s just like 🥺 that’s love

user5: BRO IS SHE STILL ALIVE AFTER ALL THAT JFC

user6: he has the prettiest dick i’ve ever seen no homo

user7: kinda want them to top me??????

user8: i had to replay this video like 20 times bc i couldn’t decide who to look at that’s bi culture

user9: if my wife cheated on me with him i’d be jealous…of her

user10: this channel is going to be my new addiction i can feel it

It was amusing truly. Everyone was witnessing goody two shoes Steve Rogers, the golden boy, do things to one of the most loved Avengers in the world that would make the devil himself sweat bullets and didn’t even know it. You, always sitting pretty and prim without a single hair out of place, were splayed out and covered in spit and cum. A sight for the world to see, but only for the man you loved to know firsthand. 

Steve’s embrace tightened as the video continued to play. His lips trailed your neck, covering every inch of exposed skin in kisses and love bites. He suckled the spot directly below your ear, prompting your eyes to slowly shut and your body to go lax against his. He slithered one hand up your body, gripping your face firmly and slipping his thumb in between your parted lips. Watching yourselves on screen was doing a number on him. He knew it would, hence why he went through with the channel with you, but actually seeing the fruit of his deepest fantasies was something else entirely.

“You like when strangers watch me fuck you?” Steve purred in your ear. 

You nodded with a low whine, wrapping your hand around his wrist. Just like that, he had your entire body under his spell. Your back arched slightly, your bottom now flush against his groin. A growl so deep you felt the vibrations from his chest against your back rumbled from your lover. 

“I would have never imagined myself doing something like this,” Steve confessed. “You make me fuckin’ crazy, sweetheart.”

No one would know. It was your dirty little secret. 

AS TIME PASSED, you and Steve’s channel unexpectedly blew up. Lilac and The Nomad became an adult channel that seemingly everyone was talking about. Twitter and Reddit pages dedicated to reposting your content were being made left and right. Your messages were blowing – no pun intended – up with requests from viewers, some even asking for private shows in exchange for unreasonable sums of money. Every now and then, a couple of overzealous users would ask for in-person meet ups. Obviously, you and Steve paid the latter no mind. It was the praise and the thrill of sneaking around that the two of you chased after. It became addicting. The two of you simply could not stop.

That’s how you found yourself in your current circumstance.

Since recovering post-blip, Tony had insisted upon family nights at least once a week. Said night consisted of having dinner together and following it up with a movie marathon. They were nights of wholesomeness, which is why the feeling of Steve’s rough hands creeping past the band of your cotton shorts felt deliciously lude. With your back against his chest, his arms wound around your front, a blanket covering the both of you, and the rest of the Avengers’ attention focused on the screen, Steve could do whatever he wanted with you and no one would notice. You gripped his forearm tightly as a thick finger dipped into your wetness before sliding over your clit. He circled it in slowly, agonizingly. Your composure began to crumble crack by crack. Each time Scott turned to everyone to deliver some stupid commentary or Wanda asked for you to pass a snack to her, a piece of your sanity chipped away. By the time your baby hairs were stuck to your forehead with sweat and your limbs felt nonexistent, Steve’s hand retreated.

He brought his plump lips to your ear discreetly.

“Get the camera, go to the guest bathroom, and wait for me.”

Like a woman possessed, you got up without hesitating and began to make your way out of the family living room.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mrs. America? Sit down,” Tony snarked.

“Period. Not feeling good.” You excused, keeping the lie short and simple so no one would ask questions.

Tony’s nose wrinkled slightly before he nodded, dismissing you with a wave of a hand. From behind you, Pepper scolded him.

“You’re going to have to get better at that. You have a daughter.”

He sighed deeply.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Once you were out of earshot, you sprinted up to your and Steve’s room to retrieve the goods, then sprinted right back down to the guest bathroom. It didn’t take long for the love of your life to meet you at your rendezvous, his eyes wide and pupils dilated with anticipation. He made quick work of locking the door behind him before scooping you up into his arms and placing you on the granite counter. You giggled quietly as he practically tore off your shorts and panties, pushing his sweatpants down just enough to slide his cock out before taking the camera from you.

“They’re gonna love this,” Steve murmured, turning the device on and hitting record.

He angled the lens towards the treasure that laid in between your legs, gripping his member with one hand and slapping your cunt with it. Its sheer weight against your already stimulated pearl made you yelp. Steve shushed you quicky, letting go of his cock and letting his hips do the work. He continued to glide in between your wet folds, his now free hand sliding up your torso to push the hem of your oversized sweatshirt up. Once your bare breast were revealed to him, it didn’t take long until he was greedily massaging them in large palm. He allowed the camera to linger for a moment before returning it to its initial angle.

“Look at that,” He remarked lowly. “Already soaked me and I haven’t even been inside of you yet.”

Sure enough, his cock was glistening with your nectar. Your mouth watered, excited to see just how gorgeous it looked on camera.

“Think you can be quiet for me, pretty girl?”

You nodded eagerly, wiggling your hips needily. Steve let you play, chuckling darkly when his head caught your entrance, and he began to push into you. All of the oxygen was knocked out of you. No matter how many times you and Steve had sex, nothing could get you used to the first intrusion of his incredibly thick cock. Your inner thighs trembled as he bottomed inside of you, teeth sinking into your pillowy bottom lip as you suppressed a sharp gasp. Slowly, he withdrew his hips before roughly slamming back into you with a long, wanton moan.

“Fuck. You’re such a good girl letting me have you like this,” Steve praised, low grunts and growls reverberating from him as he increased his pace.

Everything was too much – from the pleasure your man was making you feel, the sounds he was making, how gorgeous he looked in the throes of passion, and the need to keep quiet. You felt like a ticking timebomb that could explode at any second.

And yet, things had just gotten started.

The two of you fucked like depraved animals, pouring every ounce of energy into your mutual pleasure. You wanted to badly to reach up and press your lips against his, but for the life of you could not get your brain to work, for your body was a slave for lust. Steve, however, could sense just what you needed. He placed the camera down, making sure it had a perfect shot of you both, before gathering you in his arms. He pressed his forehead against yours before devouring you’re his with his. He continued to fuck you without faltering, swallowing your whimpers and moans like a man starved.

“I fucking love you,” He huffed quietly just for you to hear, punctuating his words with vigorous thrusts. “I. Love. You. So. Much.”

“I love you,” You hummed, too cock drunk and fucked out. “’M gonna cum…so fucking hard.”

“Do it. While everyone out there worries about you because they think you don’t feel good when in reality, you’re too much of a cock slut and just couldn’t wait to get fucked. Do it.” Steve commanded, his own words shaky as he neared his release.

That was enough to push you over the edge. Unable to stop yourselves, you came with a vociferous sob, the tightening of your channel around his cock sending Steve over with an equally enthusiastic exultation. Rope after rope of cum coated your walls until eventually, it began to ooze out of you before Steve could even pull out. When he did, he had to hold himself back from ravishing you once more. The sight of your pussy, swollen from use, painted in his copious seed was one for sore eyes. He sure to get a generous amount of footage of the money shot, already anticipating the audience’s reactions before switching the camera off. You both recovered slumped in each other’s arms, the hulking blond’s face nuzzled sweetly against your bosom until you both deemed it appropriate to leave.

“I can’t go back out there.” You groaned, your head filling with every embarrassing scenario possible.

Steve chortled endearingly, carefully pulling your panties back up and the hem of your sweatshirt back down and over your bum. Putting your shorts back on was not even in question, you were far too sensitive for that.

“I got you, sugar,” He cooed, wrapping one arm under your bottom and scooping you into his embrace once more. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, dozing off as he walked the two of you to your room.

“Go ahead and upload. I’ll tell them that you don’t feel good and needed a nap, then I’ll be right up.” Steve promised as he gently laid you down on your shared bed.

You made yourself comfortable before reaching for Steve’s computer and doing your thing. You were unable to cease your lips from turning up into a devious smile as your nimble fingers danced across the keyboard.

“got fucked in the bathroom in the middle of family movie night”

After double checking everything, you hit upload and watched the views rise. The sensation Steve’s spent leaking out of your used hole as you read the comments your new home movie was already accruing caused heat to rise to your face. It was still a shock that you and America’s gold boy were living a double life as amateur pornstars.

user1: I thought the load nomad had in their first video was just a one off. Clearly this dude can nut like a fucking champ.

user2: this is so fucking hot especially when they were whispering to each other

user3: KJDHS that’s SO much cum???is that a condition or something???

user4: okay but that’s a nice ass bathroom are they making money off of these videos?

user5: idk if i wanna be nomad or lilac 😵‍💫

user6: i’m this 👌🏼 close to dedicating a fanpage to them

user7: not to be deep on fucking PORNHUB of all places but this is some real shit. you can feel the passion, love, and care they have for each other. this is the type of porn we should all be watching, none of that overproduced fake shit.

user7: this mf is built like captain america what the fuck do you eat nomad

The last comment made you laugh heartily, but also arose some concern. Was someone catching on? Worry filled the absence of lust. All it would take for the entirety of your lives to fall apart was for one person to put the pieces together. As much as you and Steve loved the rush, both of you were playing a dangerous game with your respective livelihoods.

But then you remembered Steve.

Steve and all he had sacrificed for the betterment of the world. Steve, the man who hadn’t even lived his life for himself and never once complained about it. Steve, who was finally being selfish and acting on his own desires rather than everyone else’s. Lilac and The Nomad was more than just an adult content channel. It was a symbol of the love of your life’s emancipation from social standards. The first step of him doing whatever the fuck he wanted, not what everyone else wanted. He deserved it. The two of you had taken every precaution to protect yourselves. No one would know. It was just a stupid joke.

“CHEERS!” EVERYONE CHIMED AS they clinked their glasses together.

“Congratulations, Cap!”

Sam beamed widely upon being called his new moniker for the first time. He placed an amicable arm around his predecessor.

“Thanks guys, and thank you for this opportunity, man.” He lauded.

“Literally, out with the old and in with the new.” Natasha sniggered, earning an eye roll from Steve.

“I can still fire you, Romanoff,” He countered.

The ember haired woman simply flipped him off before taking another swig of Russian vodka.

“On a real note, what are you going to do now?” Bruce inquired.

Steve shrugged, placing his beer bottle down casually.

“I don’t know. The only thing I could really think of was getting a place in Brooklyn, which we just did. I don’t have a plan for my next move and for once it feels…good.”

“Well,” Thor grunted. “You can start by finally getting drunk off of Asgardian liquor.”

Thor reached for a decanter behind him and the former captain a generous glass of the amber liquid.

“There you go! That’s my man! Drink up, spangles!” Tony encouraged.

“I’m not getting drunk,” Steve argued, causing everyone to boo loudly. “But…I’ll have this.”

He turned to you, his glass raised in his hand. His azure orbs were capacious, glimmering with hope. He wore a refreshed expression that you had never seen on him before as he smiled dazzlingly at you. It melted your heart to finally see him like this.

“To our new beginning.”

“Cheers.”

Everyone around you gagged playfully. You hushed them with a threatening hiss.

“I have so much dirt on you guys, I wouldn’t make a single sound if I were you.”

“…. Did that do something to you too?” Bucky teased.

“Hey, shut your fuckin’ mouth, punk!”

“OH! He curses now!”

The night persisted wonderfully. Sam was celebrated in the way he deserved to be. Sure, there was still a lot of work left to do in the world, but all of you were on a new life journey. And sure, new territory was scary, but it was also invigorating. To be able to rejoice together with the people you loved most was even more invigorating.

“Women do not watch porn!” Clint yelled. “That sounds fake!”

“Women probably watch more porn than men,” Natasha argued. “Better porn too. Not whatever you call those 5 minutes of pump and grunt.”

    “I only watch women’s porn.” Laura added, her husband’s expression twisting into one of perplexion.

“You only what?”

“Speaking of porn,” Wanda giggled tipsily. “There’s this new couple that I’ve been watching and they’re—” She ended her sentence with the chef’s kiss gesture.

“Who?! I love that homemade shit!” Sam yelled from across the table.

“Their names are Nomad and Lilac on Pornhub,”

You and Steve tensed up, not moving a single centimeter for fear oF triggering something. What exactly was unknown. He gripped your hand reassuringly.

No one would find out.

“I wanna see.” Bucky chimed in, brows furrowed with curiosity.

Sam tittered mischievously, hopping to the living room to retrieve the television remote. You turned to your partner with a fearful expression. Steve shook his head discreetly, leaning in to peck your cheek soothingly.

“And that’s our que to call it a night.” He quickly stated, saving face successfully.

“He loves her so much he doesn’t even want to see another woman get railed.” Wanda cried to herself drunkenly. “That’s so sweet,”

“Good night, everyone,” You bid, swallowing the frog in your throat.

“Good night, you two. You know where your room is right?” Pepper questioned politely.

“We’re all good, Pep. Thank you for having us,” Steve thanked, wishing everyone one final farewell before rushing the both of you to one of the Stark guest rooms.

“Steven! They’re fucking watching us!” You panicked quietly.

“I believe the correct way to say that is ‘they’re watching us fuck’—”

“…Are you actually joking with me right now?”

“Sweetheart,” Steve uttered softly, cupping your face in his hands. “It’s okay. I promise. Thousands of people have watched us. This is no different. You and I did a pretty damn good job at covering our bases. If the world hasn’t figured it out, the people closest to us definitely won’t.”

Silence filled the room as you retired to the confines of your intrusive thoughts.

 “We can stop if you’re worried. We’ll take everything down, crush up the camera and computer into pieces, toss them into a landmine, and act like nothing ever happened. I want you comfortable, honey.” Steve promised.

You shook your head.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I just got a little shocked. That’s all.” You rushed out.

“Don’t apologize. I got a little scared too. I mean, my heart dropped to my goddamn stomach. I haven’t felt that since Coney Island.”

His belly filled with butterflies when you laughed, all of your worries dissipating into thin air.

“But you know what else I felt?” He proposed, his soft tone taking on a huskier one.

You hummed in response, your heart skipping a beat at the shift in energy.

“Desire. Lust.” He pulled you towards him until your body was pressed against his, your lips barely brushing his. “I want to see their expressions while they watch us.”

It was like you were never worried in the first place when your back hit the mattress and Steve’s body covered yours.

“Let’s calm you down, pretty girl.”

From the living room, the Avengers played each Lilac and The Nomad video one after another. Wanda simply fangirled, loving that her suggestion was actually being enjoyed thoroughly by everyone. The video of you and Steve having a quickie in the bathroom was the best to play. It had become one of your most viewed videos, the reach far greater than you would have imagined.            

“This one’s my favorite personally.” Laura critiqued casually as the video reached its halfway mark.

“In the middle of a family movie night, huh? Which one of you nasty shitheads has pulled one of those?” Sam accused, pointing a finger at each person.

“We would all know if someone did.”

“True. It would be obvious. Did anyone even leave last movie night?”

“Steve and Y/N did.”

No one spoke. Everyone went silent before glancing around at each other and then back up at the television screen.

“B-but, he said she was having…lady problems.” Scott stuttered, his expression growing more and more mortified as he began to connect the dots.

“That sweater does look familiar.” Bucky pointed out, gesturing to the display on the screen with a jerk of his head.

“I, uh, bought one just like that for her,” Natasha spoke under her breath. “It was a souvenir.”

“Steve Rogers wouldn’t do that stuff, guys! C’mon! That’s Captain America!” Scott blurted out in pure denial.

“Not anymore.” Tony rebutted. “That is a free man who can do whatever he pleases. As you can see—” He pointed to the TV animatedly.

“That’s definitely them. A couple months ago he asked me for computer recommendations, and I ended up building one for him. When has that man ever cared about computers?”

“Check the date of the video in the description.”

Unable to handle the anticipation, Bucky snatched the remote from a shocked Scott’s hand and scrolled down to the description. He scoffed with a smile of disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t think the little shit had it in him.”

“These are just coincidences, you guys! We have no confirmation whatsoever that it’s the—”

Something akin to a cry mixed with a moan from a couple doors away cut their words short. One that sounded exactly like the ones coming from the TV. Your teammates had all of the confirmation they need.

“Sooooo….how do we look them in the eye now?”

[beneathashadytree]

SLOW MORNINGS - NANAMI KENTO X READER

Warnings : none I think, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff for daysss <3

Word count : 1.2K words

Additional notes : This was fully inspired by this gorgeous, gorgeous Nanami art I saw on X by @3-aem. I dedicate this piece to my bff Mona (she’s the best ever btw!!!) and to the man himself whom I miss an awful lot.

Tip jar!

Masterlist

Most weekdays, they’d wake up to a gentle kiss to their forehead, almost fleeting. With bleary eyes and still feeling quite groggy, they’d barely make out the figure of their husband, buttoning up his suit jacket as he made his way out of their bedroom. He’d glance back, and the corner of his lips would curl upward ever-so-slightly at seeing them lazily paw at the sheets to pull themself up.

With a quiet, “Good morning. I’ve made you breakfast,” Nanami would quickly set their heart pounding so early in the morning. It didn’t matter how late he was running (he almost never was, anyways, being such a man of routine), he’d always make sure to make enough breakfast for the two of them. It wasn’t anything too fancy by any means, but they were both content by the gesture itself more than anything.

When they’d first started living together, he’d been hesitant to wake them up every morning, but their insistence to see him off to work, and his desire to see them blink up at him so endearingly, won out in the end. And so that’s how their routine was born—out of a gentle love and the little habits that came with it and they built their lives upon.

When their body slowly dragged itself out of a deep slumber and they began to rub the sleep out of their eyes, it took them a bit to register the sun filtering through the slits between the airy bedroom curtains. They danced in the slight breeze, teasing pretty little shadows across the dresser and causing the mirror by the end of the bed to glint a little with each shift of the fabric.

Ah, it must be late morning.

With just a little more difficulty than usual (after all, they had to pay a hefty price for getting to sleep in), they began to shuffle out of bed and across the hall, where they could smell the bittersweetness of roasted coffee beans and fresh cream. It lingered in the air longer than it did on most days, and that was how they knew that their husband had—finally—the time to indulge in his morning cup.

It wasn’t a half-bad sight to wake up to, really. There he was, leaning against the couch’s armrest while his other arm balanced his slumped head, a slightly-weathered book in hand. It seemed that leisurely position was all he could do to stop himself from dozing off, the week’s exhaustion clearly leaving him barely able to stay awake regardless of how engrossed he was by what he was reading.

Though Nanami wore nothing remarkable—just his favorite t-shirt and pants, a little crumpled from the position he sat in—he somehow still managed to look like the picture of elegance. Perhaps it was the doing of the thin-framed glasses perched on his nose; something they’d long egged him on to get prescribed, after having caught him squinting at small-lettered fonts one too many times.

All half-consciousness considered, he seemed to be pretty immersed in what he was reading, and the slow turn of a page despite them having walked in meant that he hadn’t even noticed their presence. A small amused smile came on their face, and they pattered up to him, the cold of the floorboards a little sobering.

“I don’t know how you manage to do it.” Their voice sounded a little scratchy, but that was fine. A slight flicker of his hazel eyes was the only indication that he’d been startled by them, before his face melted into an expression of contentment. His freckles stretched across his fair skin, and with each wrinkle that marked a year of growth, they think they fell in love a little deeper.

They suspected that part of the reason why they found the sight of him so mesmerizing was the knowledge that they get to see him grow old beside them. A fanciful thought, admittedly, but no less true.

“Do what?” Nanami softly asked, shifting his position and setting his legs down on the floor. He didn’t even have to do more than just leave his arms open a little for them to take the invitation and crawl into his lap.

As soon as they settled with their back against the armrest, his free hand began to absentmindedly stroke at their calf, while the other set the book down (a Victorian classic he was currently enamored with, though he regretfully had little time for) in place of the cast aside—and fully drained—coffee cup. Every single object he touched, he seemed to breathe a little life into.

Sometimes, it felt like that was the case with the entire house. Sometimes, it even felt like he did that to themself too.

“Not sleep in on weekends. How you still wake up at a decent hour is beyond me.” They shook their head in mild disbelief, reaching out to push back a strand of blond hair that fell in front of his face. He looked so much more at ease like this; hair just tucked back and not styled to perfection as it usually was. Hell; even his features had softened and the sharp lines and edges of his face had dulled into the familiar warmth they liked to feel underneath their fingertips.

He hummed, partially to voice agreement and partially as he reveled in their touch grazing his cheek. “Force of habit.” It was only when he began to lean in with eyes brimming with affection that they had to put a finger to his lips, causing him to grunt.

“Haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Nanami huffed out a half-laugh, gently pushing their finger down. “Doesn’t really matter,” he mumbled against their lips, before stealing a short but no less sweet kiss. Still, he gave into their wishes, choosing a chaste peck over the slow, all-consuming kisses he liked to indulge them in. He could never say no to whatever they wished.

A quick glance at the empty table brought another thing to their attention. “You haven’t had breakfast yet?”

“No. I thought I’d wait and cook breakfast with you.” His deft strokes against the skin of their leg were almost as distracting as his silken voice. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Surely you haven’t missed the mess I end up making,” they said, arching an eyebrow at him, to which he chuckled.

“Not the clean-up part, no,” he agrees, a smile dancing across his lips. “But messy as your methods might be, it’s more efficient that way.”

“And more fun.” They began to begrudgingly slide off his lap, knowing that they would have to get up sooner or later for food before they could laze around for the rest of the day.

“And more fun,” their husband agreed, fondness lacing his softly-spoken words as crow’s feet appeared by his eyes. Like it was merely second nature to him, a large palm rested against the small of their back as they walked to the kitchen, marking the start of a slow, laidback day at home. “Eggs benedict and fruits?”

“Hmm… I’m feeling more like an omelette and sausages today, honestly…”

Taglist : @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @sherlockscumslut @the-foreigner @thispersoniscrazy @em-3456 @angry-and-yandere @avvsfs

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[mixtape-racha]

boxer | seo changbin

dating a professional boxer was hard, but the rewards you reaped after a successful match made it so worth it || 18+, minors dni

words: 1.88k // warnings: boxer!changbin x fem!reader, established relationship, mention of boxing injuries, cussing, dom!changbin, strength kink, changbin worshipping pussy, degradation mixed with praise, unprotected sex (let me know if i missed anything!!)

sometimes it was hard, watching your boyfriend leave the house. especially when you knew upon his return, you’d be greeted with budding bruises across his face, a tiredness in his eyes and aches in his limbs. even his energy was deflated, a sense of dejection everywhere you looked.

but other times, you couldn’t deny how excited you were for him to return home. the fire in his eyes as he rushed to scoop you in his arms and carry you straight to the bedroom. other times, he couldn’t even wait to cross the apartment to your shared room, ravishing you right there in the living room.

today was one of the latter days.

the moment changbin came through the front door (with so much force you thought he was going to take it off its hinges), you knew it had gone well. he only swept the room and locked eyes on you like that when you were in for a rough night. he treated it like a reward for beating his opponent, knowing he was coming home to you and your delightful body at the end of the night.

a rush of excitement filled your body at the lust in his eyes, and your knees nearly gave way as you tried to walk over to him, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and peppering soft kisses on his back.

“how did it go, baby? bet you did so good, always make me so proud. wish i could’ve been there.” you hummed, taking in his ever-alluring scent.

he chuckled under his breath, pulling you to his front and planting a heavy kiss on the top of your head. “s’good love, i know you would’ve made it if you could. my forever cheerleader.”

his words made you tingle, preening at the underlying praise.

“been such a rough week with training, angel. why don’t you make me feel better, hmm?” changbin rumbled, hands caressing the smooth skin of your torso on display under your tiny shirt.

you nodded and instantly dropped down to your knees, palming his already half-hard cock through his gym pants. leaning forward, you began leaving open-mouthed kisses around his bulge and your hand, marking the grey material with your drool as changbin panted above you.

as you moved to start stripping the layers keeping you from your favorite reward, changbin’s hands grasped you under your shoulders and lifted you, carrying you across the apartment and past the living room.

“as much as i love the idea of that, baby, i had something different in mind tonight. wanna watch you fall apart on my tongue, yeah?”

you whimpered, face flushing slightly as you nodded. you’d never met a man who enjoys giving head as much as changbin - especially enough to give up the offer of a blowjob.

his eyes softened slightly as the way you looked at him all flushed and coy, but in the same breath he had thrown you up on his shoulder, marching towards the hallway, desperate for a slab on wall not covered by a plaque or a photo frame.

confused, you wiggled in his grasp, gasping out as his palm came down harshly on your exposed ass (you knew better than to cover up when he came home from a match, most often opting to don one of his baggy shirts or a crop top and a tiny thong).

“binnie, wha–”

but you never finished your question, as he placed your feet on the floor, pushed you back against the wall and knelt down, instead lifting one of your legs over his shoulder.

“think these pretty panties need to come off, yeah baby? already soaked through them and i’ve barely ever touched you.” he teased, fingers playing with the pale blue waistband.

again, you whimpered, knowing by the look in his eyes that he was set on making you cum on his face before he even considered fucking you.

“please, bin, need your mouth on me, please.” you mumbled, eyes screwed shut as his fingers dragged torturously over your skin.

too pent up to tease you anymore, he tore your underwear off your body, the material almost like paper in his hands the way it crumbled off your body. your pussy glistened, unable to hide just how much you needed your boyfriend, and he almost felt giddy looking at it.

“could stay between your legs forever, baby. you’re so gorgeous.” he grinned, watching as you flushed scarlet, and just as quickly licked a stripe up your core.

your mouth dropped into an “o”, his warm tongue feeling so much more incredible than it ever had before.

he was like a man starved - fingers digging deliciously into the skin of your thighs and his nose bumping your clit as he licked and tongue pushing into your hole. you threw your head back, a high-pitched whine leaving your lips, and you were already too far gone to register the way your head hit the wall or the slight stinging pain from impact.

you threaded your fingers through his hair, nails stretching at his scalp as his teeth grazed your nub, hips bucking on their own accord.

“oh, fuck, binnie, don’t stop!” you cried, legs shaking underneath you, and changbin used a hand to grab a fistful of your ass and push you body further into his face.

you didn’t even notice the way you’d begun rolling your hips into his face, chasing the high that was building in your abdomen, like a coil that was itching to explode.

it was so close. you could almost see stars behind your eyes as they screwed up, fingers grasping tighter of the roots of changbin’s hair - eliciting a delicious groan that vibrated right through your core.

just a second more. just a moment. you felt like you were about to deepdive over a cliff, free fall with the weight of changbin’s tongue on you and the rush of euphoria waving through you.

so, so close. so close you could almost taste it, the wave–

stopped. 

you whimpered pathetically as changin pulled away from your core, tears welling up behind your eyes.

“what the fuck, bin?” you whined, hips bucking in an attempt to chance after his mouth, but he simply smirked.

“can’t be having you cumming anywhere other than all over my cock, can i baby?”

keeping your hips pinned against the wall, changbin lifted himself up onto his feet, planting wet kisses all along your body on his way up. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, breath coming out in soft pants as he finally pulled you in for a kiss.

you moaned into his mouth, tasting your wetness smeared across his lower face, and moved a hand to grip his bicep as he hiked one of your legs to sit on his hip.

“gonna fuck you silly now, yeah? get you all cockdrunk for me, my pretty little whore?” changbin mumbled against your lips, drool spilling from the side of your lips.

words seemed to fail you, as all you could do was let out a strangled sob as changbin finally pushed himself inside you. even after all this time, you could never quite get used to the size of him - it was almost like you were being split at the seams with how full you felt.

he moaned gently, head falling into your shoulder as he bottomed out inside you, the angle your position provided meant his tip was sat right against your cervix and you felt like electricity was crackling under your skin.

“oh, fuck, bin. you’re gonna fucking ruin me.” you whimpered as he slowly began moving, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up your neurons like you’d never see tomorrow.

he simply chuckled at your admission, hips gaining speed as he started pistoning into you. “yeah, baby? made for my cock, aren’t you? my pretty little cum dump.”

your fingers dug into his skin, sure to leave a mark. everything about him was so perfect, and you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

“arms around my neck baby, gonna fuck you into this wall so hard the neighbours complain.”

the second you’d looped your arms around his neck (albeit with some difficulty from the shake of his cock hammering into you), he’d lifted your other leg and pinned you against the wall by your hips.

you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, pushing him that slightest bit deeper into you as his thrusts grew faster still, and a little sloppy. 

your tongue lolled out of your mouth, body trembling with every drag of changbin’s cock against your slick walls. “so tight baby, even after all this time i haven’t stretched you out enough, huh?”

he bit down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hard enough to surely leave a bite, and you couldn’t help but tense up harshly, clamping down on his length.

he hissed into you, hips stuttering as he tried to ground himself and pushed a hand between you to rub delicate circles against your clit.

the sweat of exertion from trying to hold back your orgasm rolled down your face, heart thumping as you tried to contain your moans. it was hard when changbin was fucking you into the wall so good that picutres and photo frames had started shaking - were you imagining it, or had your neighbours turned their television louder?

you knew he was close by the way his hand was digging into your hips, fingers rubbing against your clit losing their rhythm as his groans become more high-pitched and whiny. the way he fell apart while balls-deep in you was undeniably more attractive than anything else he had done that evening and you found your voice to beg him for your release.

“please, binnie. please, please, let me cum, please. been so good for you, need it so bad.”

“anything you want, my girl. cream all over my cock for me, let me see how much you love me.”

the insinuation of his words had you cumming instantly, walls clenching impossibly hard and nails digging into the tanned skin of changbin’s toned biceps.

he fucked you through the waves of pleasure, only removing his hand from your core to push your hips harder against the wall, hips pistoning into you so fast you could barely keep still.

lips attached to your neck, sucking and biting any spot he could reach, changin tensed, hips stuttering as he released inside of you. walls coated in his hot, sticky cum, his head slumping against you.

he rocked his hips as few more times, both of you hissing at the overstimulation, until he gently placed your legs back on the floor. hands not leaving your hips in a way to steady you in case your delicate legs gave way underneath you, you didn’t miss the fact that changbin was still undeniably and fiercely hard.

as he peppered kisses all over your face, rubbing circles into your skin, his voice came out soft but dominant - as if his words were a demand, not a request.

“wanna get your pretty ass to the bedroom for me? need to see your ass bouncing on my dick next.”

and of course, what else could you do but comply with his every whim and wish?

[joezy27]

"How To Write HAWKEYE" by Matt Fraction

My process for Hawkeye isn’t like anything else I’ve ever used for writing, and it’s sort of involved. For a lot of reasons—none of which have to do with the how of anything, let alone the how of writing comics—my approach with this book, I decided early on, would be completely different than anything I’d ever done before. I’ll get into some of the why and how here, but, from that decision, everything about writing Hawkeye kept getting weirder.

About a year before I started on Hawkeye, I started to experiment with writing in a method called Marvel Style or Plot Style. It’s called Marvel Style because Stan Lee came up with it when he was the only writer at Marvel and had to produce eight books a month. Stan started to write in a way that leaned very heavily on his artists rather than requiring him to produce the screenplaylike scripts most of us think of as full scripts or just, y’know, scripts.

Art by David Aja

Here’s an example of a full script I gave to my dad:

PAGE ONE 1.1 A SWEATY GUY gets out of a car. GUY We’re here. 1.2 The guy walks to a house, nervous, peering over his shoulder as he goes. GUY Ha ha. 1.3 He walks up to the front porch almost on tiptoes. GUY ha. 1.4 CLOSE: Still nervous, still on edge, he adjusts his tie. Blood under his fingernails. Uh-oh. NO DIALOGUE 1.5 FROM BEHIND: As he pokes his finger into the doorbell, we see, with his other hand, he’s got a gun held behind his back. SFX Ding dong

Note: SFX means Sound Effects

And so on. Now that took me as long to type as it took you to read, but you get the gist: dramatic beats and certain visual moments are isolated and chosen because they transmit the narrative and dramatic story flow to an artist who chooses his shots (or might take my suggestions if there are any) accordingly and crafts a sequence of images, keeping in mind moment, frame, image, flow. Isolated dialogue runs below to allow the artist to understand how much space to allot for words, and that’s it. McCloud-101 stuff, right?

But Marvel Style for David [Aja, the artist on Hawkeye] looks something more like this:

PAGE ONE Okay, David, on this page, a little car pulls up to a little suburban house and NERVOUS MAN gets out half-laughing to himself. He skulks to the front door, maybe adjusts his tie. He’ll have, like, blood under his fingernails. He looks over his shoulder, knocks. Then the last image on the page needs to be: we see he’s got a GUN BEHIND HIS BACK. “We’re here,” he’ll say, at some point, to no one in particular. And maybe giggle on his way to the door. NERVOUS KILLER CREEP here to WREAK HAVOC, David. Okay.

And I’ll move on to page two. My scripts are super informal. Nobody, but your artist and letterer are gonna read it, so why not make it fun for them to read?

I chose to write Hawkeye for David like this for several reasons. First, my favorite pages from our time on Iron Fist, which was written Full Script-style, always came when he’d politely and respectfully diverge from what was scripted for him, make something magical, then find his way back to where he was expected to be. So I’d start writing more and more vaguely for him, to give him more and more freedom, and he always crushed it. By “crushed it,” I mean he made a great page that made me look smarter than I am. Second, and I mean no disrespect to any of David’s other collaborators, many of whom I’m a fan, but I never liked David’s work more than I did on Iron Fist. And they were all doing full script for him. So, y’know—maybe a lightbulb went off. Third, writing Marvel Style scares the living crap out of me. It is the antithesis of what we teach ourselves as writers. It requires trust and sharing and believing in your partner—and he’s a partner, not an artist here, just check the credits page—and trusting in the collaboration above all else. And it’s easy to see how slippery a slope Marvel Style can be to get to “PAGES SEVEN THROUGH NINE: They fight.”

Art by David Aja

I started experimenting with Marvel Style because it scared me, and when I get scared, I get exhilarated. These things, this job, it’s the best, but it can grind you down. It crushes your wrists and warps your spine and dries your eyes and smooths down your teeth and grows your gut. Excitement and danger, though meager compared to what, say, a firefighter might encounter, is important in your work.

Also, I thought it could save me time. I thought I could do half my work on layaway, basically; that I could crank out a plot in three or four days and script a few weeks later, in one or two days. I mean, it worked for Stan, right? And he and his partners—partners—only created the dang Marvel Universe. Lastly, it’s [Marvel Comics’s former editor-in-chief and current chief creative officer] Joe Quesada’s fault.

Let me digress here for a second: Joe da Q is a great guy. Great artist, great boss, great dad, great guy. And I love talking to him about the art of the art, because he’s been around and has some stories and a head full of great thoughts about it all and … and you do it for about a minute and a half and you realize exactly how Joe earned everything he earned and you couldn’t be happier. Anyway, one night Joe is winding Mr. Brian Michael Bendis up at BarCon. BarCon is the “con” that happens in the bar of the guest hotel of whatever con you’re at, literally, every single night, of every single convention, ever. Anyway, so Joe is claiming much of Marvel’s now-decades-long dominance over comics came from the inescapable visual firepower of our founding fathers, that Marvel’s visual style is as much a key to its successes as the radioactive spider. And if you doubt it, just look at how the key moments in the company’s history were written: Marvel Style. Brian howled in outrage, “That’s not writing, that’s cheap, that’s lazy. When you cede control of choice of moment to someone else, you’re just mad-libbing …” It went on and on. Joe poking, Brian exploding, and Joe giggling with glee.

Joe Quesada loves his family, the Mets, the Beatles, Marvel, and winding Bendis up, in that order.

I realized though, as I listened to them play-fight, that it was making me nervous. Just to think about Marvel Style. Just to pretend I’d even try it, even on a short story made me, sweartagod, nervous. So many of my favorite comics were done by singular cartoonists—Eisner, Hernandez, Brown, Clowes, Chaykin. And the more I thought about it, how could I ever hope to write the thing those guys did for themselves? You can’t. A writer could never coax American Flagg! out of Chaykin—unless they gave him a Marvel Style script and treated him like a partner as invested in the storytelling as the writer.

So I knew I had to try it.

This comic has been written in a giant scramble. All out of order. Not by design but … but because Team Hawkeye does nothing the easy way.

I know a big part of Brian’s lessons here is that the only way you need to find is your way. That your way is the right way and anything else is an obstacle but … but please, god, don’t do it like this. This is how I know how to do Hawkeye.

My initial pitch for Hawkeye ended up being published as issues 4 and 5. It’s our first two-part storyline and is very different than the issues on either side; international travel, glamorous and exotic casinos, international cabals of evil. Clint-as-Bond, where he’s in a tux more than a supersuit. Marvel said okay—remember, we just needed like nine of these—but I pulled out because it wasn’t right. When I sat down to write it, it wasn’t right, and I had to leave. I had a story, not a book, and so I stopped.

Then one night I thought about Jim Rockford and The Avengers—the UK ones I mean—for whatever reason, and found my book.

So I had to repitch. I got it, luckily, but everyone thought I was nuts. Anyway.

I was going to write Marvel Style for David. It was going to be all done-in-one, or sometimes two, issue stories. It was going to be about what Hawkeye did when he wasn’t being an Avenger because, when I got the book, Clint Barton was everywhere and I didn’t want to step on toes. Give me him on his day off, I figured. It was going to be street-level, real-world kind of stories, in, of course, the Mighty Marvel Manner. I would try to counteract the banal everyday stuff with a complicated structure that would reward close-reads. So yeah, there might be an issue that’s about Clint trying to buy tape, but it’s going to start with a car chase, cut back two days, then cut forward again, and on and on. And he would have a kind of mentee/partner in a young girl named Kate. It’s a double act.

So then I wrote the first issue. And I sent it in, and my editor said what I felt and suspected: “This is a second issue.” And he was right. It was as much about Kate as Clint, and it’s Clint’s book, so back to the drawing board.

Then I wrote what became issue 1. So, psychically, the order of Hawkeye to me goes 4, 5, 2, 1. Physically, in terms of what was actually typed and invoiced, Hawkeye was 2, 1, then 4 and 5—because those were for a guest artist—then 3, then 6. It can wreck your head if you have more than just that to do, let me tell you.

Art by David Aja

HAWKEYE ISSUE 6

Issue 6 was a breakthrough for a lot of reasons. First off, though, at this point, there were five other issues and they were all written out of order and it was hard for me to keep track of what was happening when and where.

I knew 6 was our December issue, and I always wanted to write a story with Christmas as a backdrop, so I locked in to making it a holiday issue. And I wanted to do a story about Clint wanting to hook up his DVR, but things kept getting in his way. Somehow those two strands tied together in my head.

I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said this job kills your hands and your wrists. Add to that I’m an art school dropout who misses his sketchbooks and I’ve, from the start, always started my comics writing in cheap little notebooks. Partly to get away from typing, partly because I love the feeling of graphite dragging across the page, partly because I’ve thought out and problem-solved in sketchbooks my whole life.

I wish I knew how I made the following intuitive leap, but I think that’s just it—like so much about my writing, Hawkeye especially, is all intuitive. I took pieces of paper and folded them in half. Across the top, I wrote the issue number and title. Down the left, I numbered 1 through 20 to represent each of the twenty pages of the first five issues, and then I wrote in a short sentence or phrase about what happened on each of those pages. I needed to, at a glance, be able to see how I was pacing things. And if I want to check, oh, how many pages that fight scene was on page 3, I could just consult my mockups and move on. I could just carry them around in the back of the notebook, lay ’em all out in front of me, and see six months at once. Perfect.

For whatever reason, I have continued to write like this for Hawkeye. I’ll lay out the last few issues and the next few issues, even if all I have is the cover idea and title (if I’ve got the title I have a vague sense of what the story will be), and look at how they all flow in and out of one another. Here’s the mockup for issue 6.

I randomly gave myself six days to tell this story in. (There’s a DJ Shadow track called “Six Days” that director Wong Kar Wai shot a video for, and I like the song and the video and I like the sound of “six days” as an increment of time. It comes up in my work a lot I’ve noticed.) Now, at some point in the writing, I realized everybody in the real world has to endure the holidays together, so I thought, “Great, we’ll find out what day our book comes out and make that the day the book starts on, and then bip and bop around the real days of the month.” But at that point, it had started on a Thursday or whatever, so I had to rework it all, and I kept getting confused.

As I pecked through the list, things got complicated. Look in those margins and you can see me losing the real time aspect of it, the actual days and how they all fit. So I had to get linear for my own sanity, if nothing else.

Here’s me boiling down the six days just so I could keep track—but once you tie a comic down like that with a nonlinear chronology, suddenly this all gets important. Well, was the fight at night? Okay, so then the next morning he has to be here, and beat up. But if … well, wait, he needs to be there, too. So maybe the fight was really the night previous, like, at 12:01 a.m., and it’s really been closer to forty-eight hours since, and…

Anyway, it was weirdly algebraic. You’ll see, in the script, how I added time even to help David and Matt Hollingsworth, our genius colorist, in their staging.

With my little half-sheet done, it was time for me to write my take on Marvel Style for David.

My Marvel Style scripts are really, if I’m being honest, about 15 percent less full than a typical full script. There’s dialogue sometimes. And if there’s, say, six little paragraphs on a page, you can tell how many panels a page I’m thinking about. But it’s as Marvel Style as I get. It works for us, though. For example, using the page as a kind of Advent calendar—to use an Advent calendar as a design device, came entirely from David. As I said—I trust in him to be as invested in storytelling as I am, and he produces things I’d never think of, let alone know how to explain in a script for someone to draw.

Notes for Haweye #6

ART PROCESS From my script, David produces thumbnails—and they are the most laborious thumbnails you can imagine. All of David’s heavy lifting is done here. These things are tiny little bursts of science. Not that his mark making isn’t important, but his thinking is paramount to all of it and you can see it all in the layouts. It’s his half-sheet, if you will. Hardest work goes there.

Art by David Aja

So I take the layouts and do a dialogue pass the best I can. Scenes can grow or change or transmute from what I’d written, or I can give notes and add things or take away. It’s great—as long as I can tell what’s happening, I mean. Which isn’t always.

So then David enlarges the pages with his own dummy lettering pass. By “dummy lettering pass,” I mean he actually letters the book roughly, but completely, so I can see where things need trimming and he can see how the words work in the frame. He sends this back and I tighten up my script accordingly.

Once David’s art gets the editorial okay from editor Steve Wacker, it goes back to David and colorist Matt Hollingsworth who have been, in the background, talking about the color schema for the issue. In a book where time shifts so hard and weird, color is one of the primary keys to helping orient the reader. Our readers are smart; they always get it. A big part of the why is Matt, doing subtle, almost invisible little things to keep you going with us. I could talk about this more at length, but it’s not my place to; let me just say, there is tremendous storytelling happening with our book’s colors.

Art by David Aja

Then I adjust the lettering until poor Chris Eliopoulos (letterer on Hawkeye) wants to murder me and the book has to be sent to press. Wait two weeks and, voilà!

We must be doing something right.

Hawkeye script by Matt Fraction, art by David Aja

Hawkeye script by Matt Fraction, art by David Aja

HAWKEYE - The Fraction & Aja Creative Process

Words for Pictures - The Art and Business of Writing Comics and Graphic Novels (2014)

[garricks4thwingqueen]

My New Pillow: Dain Aetos X Reader

Prompt: Your My New pillow. Credit for this prompt goes to @deity-prompts

This fic is apart of the #FourthWingBirthdayBash !  

Dain Aetos × Rebellion Garrick's younger sister reader. 

Word Count 1469

    Being a child of the rebellion was never easy. You've managed to endure your first year at Basgiath but not without lack of training from your older brother Garrick, relieving of tension via friends with benefits style from someone your older brother would definitely not approve of or any of your friends for that matter. Frankly you shouldn't even be attracted to the man but yet you couldn't help but not feel head over heels in love with him. Yet you and Dain Aetos remained friends with benefits for the most obvious of reasons. 

   After war games this year and after the outbreak at Basgiath you find yourself at home in Aretia with your brother, Xaden and the other rebellion children along with 100s of other cadets that choose to come to your side after the chaos ensued. Even Dain had come along, although you were pretty sure it was only for your sake. After how war games ended this year Dain was basically enemy number one of your group. 

  You had never been more thankful that you had your own room in Riorson House due to your father's work with Xaden's father. Both you and Garrick had often found Riorson House more your home then your actual home. You currently found yourself on the verge of mixed emotions. You were mostly conflicted between your love for Dain still and every God damned fucking thing happening. Especially losing Liam. Even though your group majority blamed Dain you didn't. You knew he only knew one side of the story until you told him the story your group grew up with. You told him about war games and how everything went down including the Wyvern and the Venin; including how you held your best friend in your arms as he was dying and finally including the scream of Deigh that you'll never forget. Dain apologized for his father's actions that affected the rebellion group during war games; he felt awful and you knew he did. He had even been taking the shit from the others like a champ. Needless to say, your anxiety has been on the rise lately.

   You sniffled and wiped your falling tears as you got up and answered the soft knock on your door and gave Dain a half assed smile and a barely whispered “hey,” as you stepped out of the doorway so he could come in. You took in his shirtless and sweaty frame and noticed a few new scratches on his face. “You missed dinner.” he said soothingly, wrapping you into a hug. “I wasn't hungry and those are new.”  You stroked his scratched cheek  as you shrugged your shoulders as Dain led you both to your bed. “I wanted to check on you earlier but I figured I should at least wait until your brother went to bed and training with a few gryphon riders.” “You don't want to die yet, do you?” You smirked with a yawn. With that you earned a chuckle from Dain and that had quickly become one of your favorite sounds this year “I guess it is late. I should go.” He said going to stand. “No wait.” “Y/N?” “Please stay. I haven't been sleeping the greatest since I’ve been home.” you admitted softly. With a nod of Dain's head he took his shirt off and stripped to his boxers and climbed back into bed with you. 

    You snuggled into him and laid your head onto his chest as he pulled you close. This was a slightly new feeling for the both of you. Usually you just fucked in your room back at basgiath, Dain never staying long for fear of being caught from the both of you. But now you didn't care and honestly you're done with being just friends with benefits with one of the people you cared most about. You bury yourself into his chest as you feel him wrap his strong arms around you and feel your fingers intertwined together as he holds your hand. “Dain,” you yawn softly. “Mmmm?” You take your gambled risk and say the damned thought that's been on your mind hoping he feels the same way or else you're shit out of a friend. “I love you.” It's silent for a minute but then he grips you tighter and your greeted with the best sound you've ever heard “I love you too Y/N.” 

    “I can get very used to this.” You mumbled into his chest. Dain chuckled again; “Oh I know you can. I'll just have to deal with your brother first.” “Don't worry about him. I can handle Garrick. He just wants me to be happy.” “And you want to know one thing that's making me very happy right now?” I yawned. “Me?” “Well yeah, but I mean a very specific part of you.”You smirked as you bury yourself into his chest more and trace soft circles on his skin. “A specific part?” Dain smirked back “Yeah my head is super comfy right now. In fact I think your chest is way more comfortable than any pillow I've slept on ever. In fact it's my new favorite pillow.” You smirked with a yawn and kissed Dain softly as he chuckled. And gods did laying on his chest just amplify your favorite sound. “My chest mmmm? Those muscles didn't get there themselves. But they'll accept being your new favorite pillow. I just want my girl safe, happy and loved and she can have me however she likes.” Dain said softly and kissed your forehead.

    “Forever? No matter what we are going to get tossed at us and it's going to be a lot of shit. You know that right?” “I know.” He soothed and stroked his fingers through your hair. “Whether it be from my brother or Xaden and not to mention this impending doomed war shit.” “And we will be together through it all, together; I love you. You know we'll have to deal with my father to” He sighed and started tracing your relic which was the largest relic of the females in your group. Almost as large as your brother's. “I think my father is in for a good one next time I see him.” You sighed into his chest burying your face further, if that was possible. “Just be careful please. You don't need to get hurt because of me.” “I can handle him.” Dain said softly and started to pepper kisses down your neck. “Mmm.” Was your only response as you just took in the moment of being with each other. A moment like this you two had never had before but now you couldn't imagine falling asleep any other way from now on. 

   You woke up to your alarm going off at 5:30 with a groan, but smiled as you felt Dain’s arms tighten around you once more. “Good Morning my sweet girl.” He rasped and kissed your forehead. “Good Morning my Great Dain.” You smirked and kissed him softly. “Great Dain, is that supposed to be a pun?” He smirked. “Maybe.” You teased and ran your finger through his hair as there was a knock at your door. You groaned “Imogen.” Into Dain's chest. He chuckled softly as you yelled “Just a minute Immi and I'll be out.” Impatient as ever Imogen opened your door which you must have forgotten to lock. “Right a minute.” She smirked, taking in the sight before her. She opened her mouth to speak. “Don't start. I'll explain on our run please don't”. You sighed. “Fine but hurry up. Violet is annoying this morning.” 

  “I forgot about your runs.” Dain smirked. “Shut up. I don't wanna move.” You groaned, burying yourself into him. “Well I certainly don't want to start this off being any more on Imogen's bad side. So up and at ‘em for you.” He smirked, sitting you both up. “Not before a morning kiss.” You smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.  He chuckled and compiled by kissing you deeply. You sighed as you started to get dressed. “I'll see you at breakfast, lover.” You sighed and kissed him once more. “I'll see you later my princess.”  

 You both left your room; Dain heading to the showers and you heading to the back yard of Riorson House to meet Imogen, Violet and Rhiannon who started joining you yesterday. Imogen stood with her arms crossed and a stern unreadable look on her face. You loved Immi and she had always been like a sister to you, that you never had but her bad side was always something you tried to avoid. “Please don't Imogen. Can we talk about it later and alone?” “Fine.” She huffed and added “But don't accept me or everyone else to be remotely happy about this.”

Authors Note: I kind of left this as an open ending for a potential part two! Thoughts?

[hp-hcs]

I just binged read, probably all of your works and omg I love them so much😭

I need new chapters for "Pansy's brother", "splinched", and "Phoenix tears" (if you have the time ofc)

These are my favorite works, and you wrote them so well. I love them so much, and I'm desperate for a new read🤕

you are so fuckin sweet. you got me smiling like a damn fool over here, man. i’ve already got a new chapter for pansy’s brother in my drafts, but i’ll for sure add phoenix tears to the list!

also we’re gonna pretend like i didn’t totally forget about splinched’s existence, okay? okay.

requests open

beef stew (Chapter Three of Splinched) — death eater! theodore nott x splinched! male! muggleborn! reader

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a lie. 

Theodore had told you that his reason for helping you was merely because ‘the Dark Lord doesn’t like his things damaged’.

What utter bullshit. 

This was the Dark Lord. The guy who didn’t hesitate to try to murder a baby based on a half-heard prophecy foretold by a washed-up flake. He didn’t give two shits if his things were damaged. 

Theo shivered as a particularly cold gust of wind blew past the entrance of the tent. It’d been maybe an hour, at the most, since you both went silent, but your illness had steadily been getting worse. 

The biting snow swept inside the tent, making you sneeze immediately as soon as it touched you. You shivered violently, your teeth chattering. 

Theo grunted resolutely and tugged off the blanket from around his shoulders, turning around halfway to wrap it around you, despite your frame already being dwarfed by three other blankets. 

He stepped out of the tent, the thick drifts of snow crunching underfoot as he returned to the campfire. 

“Now what?”

You sniffled once, your eyes red with exhaustion and illness. One trembling hand emerged from the blankets to point at the pile of wood and sticks that Theo had collected, already nearly covered with snow. 

He couldn’t help but notice how violently your hand shook just from that tiny motion, your arm feebly falling back into your lap and disappearing under the blankets. You already looked worn out just from the tiniest exertion. 

You guys are fucked.

“A-add a log ‘r two,” your voice trembled. You quickly cleared your throat, blinking rapidly, and enunciating your words as if that would un-sicken yourself or something.

Theodore also noticed how you seemed to be trying to hide the extent of your illness and pain from him. 

“That should b-be good. Now try to find two fairly even branches that are ‘Y’ shaped.”

Theo was unnerved by how tired you sounded, how you hadn’t cracked a single joke nor made one witty comeback in the past hour. He silently pawed through the pile of wood, wordlessly holding up two medium-sized branches, about equal, that each ended in a fork. 

You tersely nodded once. “Set them upright in the ground across th’ fire from each other. The split part should face u-upwards.”

He did as you said, embedding the two branches upright into the nearly-frozen ground. “That good?”

“Yeah. T-try to find the longest, s-straightest branch and lay it across th’ uprights.”

Really, the lack of humor from you was unnerving. Theo debated cracking a joke just to see if you’d smile. He toyed with the idea as he searched the pile to find a branch long enough to span across the fire, before throwing caution to the wind and just making his dumb joke. 

“I think this one’ll work. It’s straighter than I am.”

He avoided looking in your direction as he laid the branch across the fire, resting in the fork of each of the uprights. 

Merlin that was so stupid why would you say that out loud you dumb fuck what if he’s not even gay? Did you think about that? No, of course yo-

His anxious doubt and regret are interrupted by your laughter. 

He turns, surprised to see you sitting up straighter, a grin on your face and a sparkle in your eye that he knew wasn’t there before. 

“Y-you and me both, N-Nott.”

He grinned back at you, relieved. He ignored the way his heart fluttered at your confession.

He caught your eyes lingering on him for just a moment too long and a bright flush rushed to his cheeks. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“So. Uh. What next?”

Your smile remained, although it dialed the intensity back a bit, as you nod to the fucking Muggle tea kettle sitting in front of you. 

“Uh, t-this was all I could find in my b-bag that would work. ‘ve already put everything in, you just need’ta hang it over th’ fire on the cross-branch by its handle. Uh… it’ll- when it w-whistles, the water’s b-boiling and dinner’s ready.”

Theo nodded, tromping back over to the tent to collect the tea kettle, then following your instructions, albeit a bit clumsily. 

(He’s doing his best, you conceded.)

It’s not long before the whistling of the kettle can be heard, and Theodore follows your instructions, bringing the kettle over and setting it down in the snow a foot away from the entrance to the tent. The snow around the hot metal immediately turns into thick steam, hissing loudly. 

You instruct Theo on how to put out the fire by burying it, insisting that he triple check for embers, despite his complaints about being cold.

He returns once more to the tent, stepping around the sizzling kettle in the snow, ducking inside, and taking off his laughably impractical, soaked-through shoes. (“Augury-hide boots, Y/N! These are the finest shoes money can buy! Stop laughing!”)

You watch as he takes off his waterlogged cloak (which was decidedly not made for magical mid-September snowstorms in the sticks) and sits down next to you. 

You consider him for a moment before opening up one arm, wordlessly inviting him to share your blankets. He gratefully takes you up on the offer, practically diving underneath them and curling close to you to soak up your body heat. 

He’s absolutely frigid, and you elbow him in the side when his freezing hands make contact with your wrist. He snickers, pulling the tea kettle inside and zipping up the flap of the tent to keep out the wind, then pressing his freezing fingers to the back of your neck. 

You yelp in surprise. “M-motherfucker!”

Theo dissolves into laughter, apologizing. “Sorry, sorry.”

“F-fuck you. You d-don’t get dinner ‘nymore,” you sniff haughtily, the mock-tone in your voice not reaching quite it’s intended effect, what with the way your voice shakes and your words slur together.

“I said I’m sorry!” Theo protests, scooting over to give you more room as you both get situated in the small tent.

You tsk, shaking your head as you open the lid of the tea kettle and pull out the two brown foil packages that bob up and down in the slowly-settling boiling water. 

“The fuck are these?”

“C-civilian MREs,” you say cheerily as you pull them out, handing him the plastic spoon from his kit. “Enjoy your…” you glance at the packaging of yours as you tear it open. “V-vaguely ‘Beef Stew’-adjacent m-meal.”

“What’s an MRE?” He asks, following your lead and opening his package hesitantly.

“‘Meal, Ready to Eat’,” you say around a spoonful of ‘Beef Stew’. “Military rations. Taste like shit, b-but they last a ridiculously long time an’ you don’t even hafta ‘frigerate ‘em.”

“And… why do you own these?”

“T-they’re my brothers’. They go c-camping all the time, an’ there’s this camping s-supply store in my town that sells these dirt cheap.”

Theo watches the way your eyes light up when you speak of your family and hometown. His heart clenches in his chest as he shoves away the thought of what all he’s ripped you away from. 

“These ones ‘re only c-cheap though,” you continue your chatter, much to Theo’s (although he’d never admit it) delight. He notices how your voice gets clearer and stronger and your hands steadier the more you eat. “‘Cause they don’t come with FRHs. They’re like, eight pounds more each just for that. I know how to boil water, I don’t need an eight pound FRH.”

Theo stares at you, amused. 

You flush. “Oh- right. S-sorry. Uh, you don’t c-care ‘bout Muggle stuff.”

“No, no. Please, continue. FRH?”

“Flameless ration heater,” you mumble timidly. “Jus’ add water, an’ it’ll heat up your meal without a fire or nothin’.”

“I’ll admit, you Muggles are certainly quite… innovative.”

“Yeah. Shame we’re being hunted for sport by genocidal wizards with god complexes,” you say in a clipped tone, your demeanor suddenly becoming cool and standoffish.

That shuts Theo up real quick. 

[yukimiyaz]

ANGELS GO TO FRAT PARTIES

goshiki tsutomu x gn!reader

includes: college au. the boys are in a gray. (unknowing) mutual pining. goshiki is totally smitten. reader is cheeky and a flirt. parties/alcohol. they are tipsy but not drunk.

notes: one of my most favorite things i’ve ever written. idk

Goshiki feels a little bit stupid.

Or maybe that’s just all the blood rushing out of his head from being flipped back upright after doing his keg stand. He sways a bit on his feet, swiping at his chin with the back of his hand and half-assedly accepting the high fives and pats on the back from the people around him. Their cheers are all drowned out though, fading in with the music blasting over the speakers. He doesn’t care about their praise for once, doesn’t give it any mind at all.

No, he’s too focused on you, walking away from the spectacle. His eyes trail after you and watch as you disappear into the sea of the crowd and get engulfed by the multitude that’s crammed into his frat’s basement. He doesn’t understand what you do to him; it’s like you’ve got a rope wrapped around his throat that keeps him close and near. He follows after you, even now, pushing past sweaty bodies and touchy couples by the trail of your image just a few yards ahead, making your way up the stairs. He curses under his breath when someone bumps into him and knocks him off his path, frowns when some idiots making out get right in his way of the steps. He needs to follow you, he has to. It doesn’t make sense.

Goshiki feels stupid, and dumb, and—fuck, maybe a little bit crazy because he shouldn’t even be looking at you at all. You didn’t come here with him, you never come here with him. He’s not the person who’s invited you.

You’ve been Ushijima’s plus one to frat parties for as long as Goshiki can remember. 

He recalls his first “small friendly gathering” at his frat very well. Wide eyed and new and wanting to prove himself to all of his older frat brothers. There was so much going on, so much he didn’t see at the select few parties he’d attended in highschool. More beer, less clothes, a (nearly) complete lack of human decency. It was so much—too much, almost.

And that’s when he saw you.

You, with a hand held up to your mouth to shield the giggles that were fumbling out over someone’s—Tendou’s, he thinks, based on the cheeky grin on his face—joke. You, with jeans that fit you well and your hair done so nicely and your eyes that glittered under the pulse of the LED’s Semi had strung up. You, with a soft smile and magnetizing pull and gentle tip of your head.

You, with your hand wrapped around Ushijima’s bicep as you leaned into his side. 

He’d known his former captain for years prior, having gone to high school together and keeping in touch even after his graduation, up until this point. And nowhere, not once in that time frame, had Goshiki ever seen someone other than the ace’s best friend touch him as freely as you did. 

It sent him to an abrupt standstill, faltering his steps as he walked over to the group. He’s not entirely sure that he would’ve been able to say anything worthwhile to you regardless (pretty people sort of make his tongue feel like lead in the base of his mouth) but any chance of him even attempting to flirt with you went out the window in that exact moment. He kept walking, cursing every god above for Semi having noticed him and waving him over. You’d followed his friend’s gaze, met his through the dim lighting of the living room. 

His breath had never left his lungs so fast before.

It had ached then, the way that your eyes pierced right through him while simultaneously melting him at the edges. It burned, the heat licking up the back of his neck as you gave him a little bow of your head while being introduced. All he got was your name—and maybe your major, your year, too, he thinks—but nothing explaining your connection to the man whom you seemed so comfortable with.

He felt guilty for even looking at you. Because, sure, while no one had blatantly come out and said you were off limits, said you were under some sort of relationship umbrella with Ushijima Wakatoshi, he still felt that pressure there—the implication. 

Even after that short (and he’s sure very awkward—on his end at least) encounter, you were always so… sweet to him. Bright smiles when you passed each other on the way to class and waves when you’d see each other around campus. Sitting down between him and the ace when your caf times seemed to align and bumping his shoulder when you’d stand beside him in idle conversation. You’re nice, he gathers; to him at least. Then again, maybe it’s just because every time he looks at you he sees a halo and white feathered wings.

But the effect you have on him is anything but angelic.

He wouldn't call it sinful, because that word sounds so wrong when being used to describe you, but the pull you have over him feels like he’s sold his soul. It’s like a moth drawn to a flame; he knows that he shouldn’t get so close but he just can’t help himself, every fear of being burnt discarded in favor of admiring a flicker of your beauty. Every time he thinks he has a grip on it, on this hold you have so tightly on him, all it takes is one glimpse of you and he’s suddenly defenseless. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth, until all of time stops, if you’d let him. 

Or out of his frat’s basement, at the very least. 

Goshiki chews on the inside of his cheek as he takes the steps two at a time, treading over discarded solo cups and weaving past people who treat the stairs like a seat. For a fleeting second the thought of him being forced to clean this all up with the rest of the freshman and sophomores tomorrow morning slips into his mind, but it’s gone a second after as he catches the last glimpse of you retreating from the opening of the stairs.

It’s quieter up here, it always is. While some (most) people tend to stay downstairs and get shitfaced and enjoy the ragers his frat hosts, others dwindle their way into the frat’s main floor living room. Mostly upperclassmen, the occasional designated driver waiting for their “responsibility” to get tired enough to go home, or the ones who just don’t like loud music and pushy people. 

(Tsutomu’s not entirely sure where he falls in on that list, because there isn’t a “following the prettiest person at the party around like a puppy” category, but maybe it's somewhere around the doesn’t like pushy people bullet.)

His eyes flit around the room he walks in, taking in the scene and attempting to swallow down the slight throb in his head. There’s a few people scattered around the room, from his frat and others; Semi’s messing with the small speaker in the floor and waving off Tendou’s song requests, the Miya twins are bickering on the loveseat with Sakusa (begrudgingly, based on how deep his scowl is) squished between them, Kyoutani and Tsukki are laughing at a passed out Kogane in the corner, Hinata’s entertaining a group of a few more by seeing how long he can balance a beer can on his forehead from his spot on the arm of Kageyama’s recliner. And lastly, but nowhere near least, you.

Quite frankly, anyone could have guessed where you’d make a beeline for after your trek up from the chaos downstairs, and he isn’t an exception. There you sit, pretty as ever, right next to Shiratorizawa’s former ace on the couch. The seat beside you is open, and it’s evil, truly, how you catch his eye just as he notices and pat at the cushion in an open invitation.

And Goshiki is so, so stupid—for you, most definitely—that his feet move before his brain can tell him not to. 

“Hey,” you beam just as he sits down, shifting to face him even with the arm Ushijima has thrown around your shoulder. He tries not to look at it, attempts to focus on your eyes instead and hopefully keep his own from trailing down to your lips. A hopeless feat, probably. “Saw you beat Bokuto. It was cool.”

There’s a lilt to your voice, a certain crinkle to your eyes as you smile at him that has his stomach bubbling in a way he can’t blame on the alcohol. He breathes out a shaky chuckle, rubs at the back of his neck while he nods. 

“Yeah, I guess I was pretty cool,” he agrees, then feels his cheeks heat up from a mix of slight embarrassment and fear of being too cocky. (When he’s ever tried to watch his pride before, he can’t recall, but it’s like he can’t help but want to filter it around you). “I mean, he did do like, four before that one, so. You know. I was probably just lucky with an advantage because of.. that..”

And as if the heavens want to punish him, you laugh. Light and airy behind your hand just like the first time he ever saw you, shoulders bouncing with a slight shake under Ushijima’s arm. Goshiki can’t help but laugh too; everything about you is just so contagious, addicting. He swears he could drink you up and get far more wasted than liquor could ever dream of making him. It nearly makes him sick—in the best way.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you ramble, Tsu.” It’s a bit teasing, your tone, and it has a lump forming in Goshiki’s throat. 

You’re just being nice, he tries to convince himself, slow down the heartbeat throbbing erratically in his ears, you’re being friendly and sweet and kind like you always are, that’s it. 

But, god, he hates the way that nickname rolls so easily off your tongue. He’s never been given a nickname before, not a serious one, anyhow. (Because, no, Tendou calling him Baby Ace since the day he joined their team in high school absolutely does not count, no matter how much the redhead tries to claim that it does). And yet, you gave him one so freely. You were never one for formalities, he realized. In fact he doesn’t think he’s ever heard you add an honorific to anyone’s name unless they were your professor. Most people would find it disrespectful—rude—but when it comes from you it’s just.. endearing. Fuck, it’s so endearing.

“Yeah, sure,” he waves off, attempts to, at least. The lights aren’t as dim up here as they are downstairs, but he hopes that it’s still dark enough you can’t see the red pooling in the apples of his cheeks. 

“I’m serious!” you defend, another laugh trailing on the end of your rebuttal. The influx of your giggles, the inability to hold them back, Goshiki wonders if you’re a bit tipsy too. “It’s cute!”

“What’s cute?”

The universe must hate him, that has to be it. He blinks through his slightly hazy vision and looks over to the other man on the couch. For a moment he’d almost forgotten he was even there, but the way he leans in now, chest pressing to your side as he tries to get close enough to hear you both clearly over the thumping downstairs, makes his presence impossible not to notice.

Goshiki opens his mouth to rush out an answer; the couple snuggled up in the corner, a video he showed you on his phone, hell he’d even blurt out fucking puppies if it kept him from admitting what you said. Because you and Ushijima are… you know, right? And that would be—that’d be awkward wouldn’t it? To just say that? And he isn’t scared of his former ace, there’s absolutely no way, but he also isn’t too keen on getting a black eye. So he tries to rush something out over the clumsiness of his tongue, tries to save himself the decking of a lifetime, but. 

“Tsutomu’s rambling. It’s really cute, don’t you think?”

God, do you want him to die? Is that it?

Small is not a word that one would normally use to describe Goshiki; with athletically broad shoulders and a six foot one frame that’s nothing but strategically bulked muscle, he’s honestly quite big. But he feels about two inches tall with Ushijima’s gaze focused on him, dark olive eyes pinning him in his seat and making that lump you planted in his throat grow like a watermelon seed. He can’t swallow, or breathe, or think at all really. Other than the thought that this is where he gets bloodied into a pulp because your honeyed tongue lured him right into a vicious bear trap.

So he waits. And waits. And… waits. For something, anything—a fist to his jaw, mostly—to come from Ushijima. Yet it all seems to be benign, because the only thing he gets from his longtime friend is a deep hum.

“Sure, yes,” Wakatoshi nods thoughtfully, seriously, and Tsutomu isn’t sure if the weight on his chest is letting up or getting worse by hearing the rumble of his voice. “Cute. Tendou uses that word to describe him frequently.”

From somewhere to his right, Goshiki can hear the redhead in question whining out a ‘It’s Satori, you dumb Miracle Boy,’ followed by Ushijima nodding in acknowledgement with a muffled ‘Apologies’ right after. And he—he doesn’t understand.

“See! Even Toshi agrees.” And you sound so excited, so proud of yourself that you have his opinion to back you up. You lift your hand up, raise it to his cheek and pinch the heated skin there. “Very cute.”

The way Goshiki nearly chases after the ghost of your touch as your hand pulls away is embarrassing, or it would be if anyone had picked up it. He wants to respond to you, he really does, but his mouth has never felt more dry. There’s a half empty plastic cup on the ottoman in front of him; he doesn’t have a clue who it belongs to but he’s tempted to chug down the rest of it regardless. He’s pretty sure that he’s a smidge too sober to be going through this right now.

“Thanks,” he settles on. Croaks out past the frog in his throat as his hands tense up on the tops of his thighs. His jeans suddenly feel uncomfortable, the collar of his shirt a bit too tight. God, did it just get even hotter in here? 

“You–” And he nearly winces as he chokes up on himself. “Y-You’re cute too. Pretty! You’re… really pretty.”

Your lips curl up at the edges and hook straight into Goshiki’s heart. A tip of your head and a crease to the two edges of your eyes is all it takes to have his world shifting, tilting on its axis with him suddenly grappling to cling on. Is it the blinking of the LEDs or do your eyes always sparkle like this?

(He’s ready and willing to believe it’s the latter, given the chance.)

“Thank you.” Your smile grows wider—if that’s even humanly possible. (But Tsutomu doesn’t think it is, which he only uses as further evidence for his hypothesis that you must be a creature from the heavens). “You’re always such a sweetheart, Tsu.”

He grins and dips his head in a weak attempt to shield the tint on his cheeks deepening. “No, not really,” he mumbles, and by the look on your face he can tell you’re straining to hear him. But your smile is just as soft, your gaze just as kind. He really can’t help himself. “Hey, I was, uh, wondering–”

Hoops and hollers drift up the staircase and are trailed by the owners of them directly after. Terushima is leading what looks like a drunken and wobbly conga line up the steps and into the living room, effectively upping the volume and drowning out the tail end of Goshiki’s sentence as they weave around in haphazard circles. 

“What?” You try to ask, but he can barely hear you now, even with your voice elevated.

He tries to talk again, attempts to start his sentence over, but gives up when he sees that look of apparent confusion on your pretty face. Alone time, is what he wanted to ask for, as simple or awkward as it may be. But as Terushima trips over his shoe and Taketora all but falls into his lap and he has to shove him off, he thinks he should’ve just been grateful for getting to speak to you on the cramped couch instead.

You shift in your seat, turning away from him, and he thinks you’ve finally grown bored. He watches as you turn to Ushijima, raise up to get your mouth right next to his ear. You’re probably asking him to switch spots with you, maybe you really were just trying to play it nice earlier. Wakatoshi nods to you, then meets Goshiki’s eyes from across the couch before retracting his arm from around your shoulder. Maybe it was too soon to be thanking god for saving him from a decking earlier. 

But instead of Ushijima getting up, or moving you over to swap seats, you turn to face him again. Your mouth is moving, but Goshiki can’t hear you. Jesus Christ these idiots are too fucking loud. He taps his ear, tries to shout over the noise that he can’t understand a word you’re saying.

His heart skips a solid four beats when you wrap your hand around his bicep and lean in. Suddenly your breath is tickling his ear, not Ushijima’s. Chills have never wound around his spine quite like this before.

“I’m gonna go catch a breather. Do you wanna come?”

And Goshiki might be stupid, but he isn’t dumb enough to deny a miracle that’s been placed directly into his hands. 

“Yeah!” he shouts instantly, nodding his head like a backup in case you couldn’t hear him. 

He’s quick to follow your lead when you stand up, not wanting to chance having to deal with losing you in the crowd. The chance he’s so worried about isn’t quite given to him though, because before you even take a step you’re grabbing his hand. He tells himself you’re only being polite—the same mantra he’s been repeating over and over in his head since the day he first met you—that you, too, are just trying to prevent either of you getting lost in the hopeless abyss of sweaty bodies. 

Your fingers squeeze his, you throw a smile over your shoulder at him, and Goshiki knows, immediately, at that moment. 

He’s a fucking goner. 

Step by step you lead him through the living room, hand gripping tighter when a fumbling Kuroo threatens to bump you apart and his chest hitting your back when you have to stop midstep to let Daichi and Asahi drag a slurring Suga through. Goshiki strains to hear your giggles as you point and laugh at the scene of Iwaizumi holding a whining and crying Oikawa down so Mattsun can write on his face with a sharpie while Makki records. (He’ll get that video for you later, if it means it’ll make you laugh again.) He sees you coo at the sight of Yamaguchi retying Yachi’s hair for her as you turn the corner, and watches how your eyebrows shoot up at the view of Tanaka proposing to Kiyoko for the fifth time tonight. Then, finally, the two of you reach the patio door. You drop his hand as you slide it open and step through, and Goshiki has to struggle to restrain himself from trying to reach out and grab it again. He shuts the door behind himself, the sound on the other side muffling to a dull hum instantly. 

“Ah,” you sigh, shoulders visibly slumping as you take in a deep breath. Walking to the edge of the patio, you hop up onto the railing, letting your feet dangle as you look to Goshiki. “That’s better. I could hardly hear myself think in there.”

Your laugh comes out in puffs, the remnants of winter causing nights like this to plummet the temperatures. The shirt you showed up in has proven unfit to match against the chill, and yet you don’t complain; just rub at your upper arms with your palms subtly. But Goshiki notices (as he does with everything about you) and more importantly he is a gentleman—to you, at least—and lives up to that now as he tugs his jacket off and steps up to wrap it around your shoulders. 

“Oh, no, you don't have to. You’ll get cold,” you protest, attempting to slip it back off even though Tsutomu can see your sough of relief at the added layer. His hands stop you, keep the jacket around your shoulders, and he shakes his head. 

“I’m fine.” And he can’t help but smile at the way you pout slightly. “I’d rather you were warm than me, anyways.”

He watches as you, begrudgingly at first, start to slip your arms in the sleeves. But as your hands pass through that easy grin finds its way back to the curve of your lips, and you sink into the warmth of Goshiki’s jacket as the sleeves pool over the tips of your fingers. 

“Well thank you. You really are just a big sweetheart, huh?”

And, fuck, the way everything you say to him goes straight to his head; it can’t be natural. He’s used to feeding off the compliments of others, clinging to the words of praise thrown his way and piling up the trophies of astonishments to show he belongs to the best of the best. But with you, it's different. With you, it’s like it doesn't just inflate his head but his heart also. Like you’re trying to make it big enough for you to fit yourself inside, carve out a space for you to crawl right in and make yourself at home.

Or maybe Goshiki’s doing that all by himself.

You affect him—change him, whenever you are around. It’s been the case all night and it’s been the case everyday before now, there’s something about you that warps Tsutomu’s traits. Fissures the molds he’s taken so long to create and breaks the habits he thought would be instilled for the rest of his life. It makes him hold his tongue, swallow his brags, put a blanket over his normally unwavering pride. You make him quiet. Humble. Soft.

So maybe that’s why he lets his shoulders fall now, drops his broad stance and proper posture. Maybe that’s why he blows out a sigh and doesn’t pay any mind to the way the little cloud fogs up between you two. Maybe that’s why his tongue grows lax and his guard cracks open, to bear himself to you fully on the back patio of his frat house.

“No, I’m really not,” he admits, despite that voice in the back of his head calling him a fool for trying to ruin this image you have of him. Perhaps it’s the smidge of alcohol in his system that gives him the strength to quiet it down (and is the cause for his admittance), he’s not sure. “I just don’t want Ushijima to kill me if you get sick.”

Another laugh bubbles through you, gentle and light, but it fades too quick and ends too soon as you notice there isn’t a single trace of a jest on Goshiki’s features. You open your mouth to ask him what he means by that, why he looks so serious all of the sudden, but before you can, he continues.

“You think–you think I’m this really nice guy.” His eyebrows are furrowed together, you want to reach forward and smooth the crease between them out. “You think I’m just good and nice and–and a sweetheart. But I’m not. I yell at the other guys in the morning when I trip over their shoes and I act like I’m better than everyone at practice and I make fun of them when they can’t get plays down right on the first try.”

He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, he hates that he’s telling you this. In his mind, he knows that this will be it; that you’ll hear him admit all these things like a sinner at a confessional and never want to look at him again. But he just.. he can’t stop.

“I think I deserve to be on top just because I’m me and I only actually respect people when they’ve fully beaten me on something. And the only exception to that ever has been— god, it's you! I can’t even be mad or hate you about it because you’re just so.. So fucking perfect and it drives me crazy. You drive me crazy. I can’t go a single second without thinking about you or what you said to me that day or the shirt you were wearing the last time you came over. And that’s the worst part, you don't even come over for me!”

His eyes are burning and he isn’t sure if it's because there are tears threatening his lash line or if it’s the breeze that’s making them sting. He feels so entirely overwhelmed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He can’t even look up at you.

“You–you’re Ushijima’s! And he’s my friend! I have so much respect for him and here I am festering some stupid crush on you like some dumb little kid. You say I’m sweet but there’s nothing sweet about the way I’m thinking about you, I really have to be sick in the head or something because I'm not even actually sorry. God, Ushijima would kill me if he knew I was saying any of this to you, let alone if he found out I was in love with you! I’m—”

The realization hits Goshiki a little too late for him to catch his tongue. The breath stills in his lungs and his heartbeats follow suit. You haven’t said anything, not a single word, and it does nothing to help the fact that he feels like a dead man walking. 

Timidly, and ever so slowly, he dares to raise his head, lift his gaze up to meet yours. Goshiki has never been one to admit to being scared, but right now the fear of what he’ll be met with is damn near bubbling over. A split second, a fraction of a sliver of time is all he gets to try to catch a glimpse of your expression before suddenly there are two hands cupping his face and yanking him forward and–

You’re kissing him, on his frat’s back patio. 

He has to shoot his hands out to grab onto the railing to catch himself, your knees spreading and his body slotting right in between them. He can’t think straight, his mind is all but fizzling out and spitting smoke out of his ears as your lips mold against his in a way he thought he could only ever dream about. Kissing back seems like a far cry, and something he doesn’t quite get the chance to do because all too soon you’re pulling back and your breath is fanning over his heated cheeks.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you breathe, arms sliding to wrap around his neck and heels resting against the back on his thighs. It’s almost jolting, hearing something like that coming out of your pretty little mouth, but Goshiki doesn’t even attempt to wrap his head around it. “Toshi isn’t my boyfriend , our parents are friends. We’ve known each other since we were toddlers.”

“O-Oh,” Goshiki chokes, knuckles nearly white from his grip on the rail. “So you aren’t– You don’t– You and him–”

“No, never.” Your dismissal is instant, your head shaking from side to side. “Not like that. Besides, the only reason I come around so much is because of a certain guy in his frat.”

You’re smiling again. Goshiki still can’t breathe. He thinks you want to kill him.

“Really?” 

“Mhm, really,” you hum, and he’s curious if you know you’re tugging him in closer or if it’s completely accidental. “He’s very cute, dark eyes and these absolutely adorable dimples. Gets all rambly when he’s tipsy. I think I could listen to him talk about himself all day. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he’s got pretty nice muscles.”

“Ah,” Goshiki exhales, follows you as tease him by continuing to lean back. “He sounds very.. Uhm..”

“Yes?” You taunt, grin in a way that is absolutely anything but innocent, and he doubts his hypothesis of you for a moment, contemplates the odds that maybe your wings are dipped in a touch of sin afterall. “Very what, Tsu?”

He’s stuck marveling, drinking in the sight of you on the railing before him. Leaned back like this, the night sky becoming a perfectly displayed backdrop, you almost look ethereal. He wonders if that’s really the moon hanging above you, because at first glance he could swear it’s the glow of a halo circling the crown of your alluring little head. Moonlight’s never looked so good painting someone’s skin as it does yours, he’s sure of it. It soaks you up and pools in your irises and Goshiki is so, so willing to drown. 

“Pretty,” he says breathlessly, warrantlessly, and he’s so in love with you. “God, you’re so pretty. Can I.. I just.. Need to–”

You don’t have the pleasure of hearing the end of his sentence, but his actions seem to provide you with enough implication to connect the dots. Because suddenly he’s surging forward like a man who's been deprived of nectar for far too long and kissing you full and hard and right. A muffled yelp tumbles out of your mouth and into his as you lean back a bit too far, but an arm secures around you a second later, catching your weight and pulling you flush to a warm chest. Your fingers thread into the buzz at the back of his neck and his fist into the back of the jacket around you. It’s warm and good and you melt into him like honey off a comb. 

Goshiki’s never really thought about what heaven might be like, but he’s sure this has to be pretty close.

With a gasping breath you pull away, stuttering through inhales as Tsutomu tries to chase your lips, place more pecks, pull you closer like he’s offended you’d dare pull away. You laugh into his mouth, place your hands on his cheeks to keep him sated enough for you to speak. 

“I love you too, by the way. And I don’t want to stop kissing you,” you confess, causing the man’s cheeks to get impossibly warmer. You have to turn your cheek to stop him from leaning in again. “But we should probably go somewhere a bit more private. Plus, my hands are freezing.”

Goshiki nods, but his eyes are hazy in a way you’re not entirely sure he even knows what you’re saying. “Y-Yeah,” he agrees, nonetheless, and allows you to push him back a step so you can slide down from the railing. “Okay.”

Your giggles make him feel dizzy, and he doesn’t even care if he’s making a fool of himself because you’re leaning up to kiss him again. Giving him a peck, and two, and three, as you take steps backwards and slide the patio door open. The sound envelopes the two of you instantly, drowns out your laughs in a way Goshiki hates but drowns out his thoughts in a way he loves-; a way that allows him to only focus on you. 

Neither of you catch them, the two men huddled up and pressed along the wall by the patio door looking like two peeping toms trying not to get caught. Ushijima and Tendou watch as you lead Goshiki up the stairs with your hands in his and his jacket slipping from his shoulders, a peck and string of giggles after every step. Tendou cheers, Ushijima smiles, and they clink their beers together before watching you two disappear down the hallway.

The thumps grow duller and the lights less tinted as you lead Goshiki down the hall with a trail of kisses, laughing into his neck when his arms start to snake around you. You count the doors as you pass—two, three, four—until you get to his bedroom. A hand on the knob, you push the door (and your luck) and by grace it opens. Goshiki’s feet are frozen as he watches you, easy grin on your lips as his jacket falls onto the floor. You walk around his room, skimming your fingers over his dresser, lazily sifting by the clothes in his closet, until you wind up at his bed. It’s sharp, how the breath gets punched out of him as you take your seat on the edge of it. You don’t say anything, you don’t have to, you just hold your hand out to him with a smile as sweet as sin.

And as Goshiki rushes to close the door behind him, he knows he was wrong about that whole heaven thing earlier.

Because right now there’s an angel sitting on the edge of his bed, and he thinks this one night will be better than heaven is ever going to get.

[siempre-bucky]

Sending Letters Home

Headcanons ft. Rooster | Hangman | Bob | Fanboy

summary: headcanons about some of the guys sending letters to you while they're away

warnings: brief allusions to sex, fem!reader

a/n: i had one idea about rooster and it spiraled into this...enjoyyy

Rooster prefers calling and video chats while he’s away, he loves to hear the sound of your voice at every given opportunity.

 He has some letters that his dad wrote to his mom, which was nice and all…but being able to see you made him feel like he was right there instead of an ocean away.

But then he dropped his phone into the ocean 

It wasn’t like it fell over during a storm on the carrier or something heroic 

A little kid bumped into him while he was trying to take a picture of the view while they were docked 

Sending his phone into the ankle deep water 

The poor guy froze for a while and simply watched his phone fall to the sand

“Think it’ll work again?” he asked Phoenix after begging their cook for rice to put his phone in 

“Give it a couple of days,” she said, patting him on the back 

“I’m supposed to call her tomorrow,” he said solemnly as he swished the container back and forth 

Phoenix smirked and pointed to his desk, “There’s always the old fashion way… mail goes out tomorrow.”

Rooster sat there for at least an hour trying to find the right words 

He paced the room and took breaks without a word on the page

“Talk to me dad, what would you write?” 

You didn’t expect a letter from Bradley a week later, knowing he didn’t write to anyone 

But Jake also called and laughed hysterically about Rooster’s phone incident 

Rooster wrote you the most beautiful letter, telling you how much he missed you and how everything he saw reminded him of you. He told you about his time on the carrier and the places he got to see while they were docked 

He fails to mention his phone 

“Will you write me another letter,” you asked once he was finally back home and you were wrapped in his arms 

He looked at his letter pinned on the corkboard frame by your dresser “You really liked it?” 

He smiled brightly and held you tighter as you nodded and he promised to write you all the time 

Jake loves the romance of it all 

sendiing a handwritten letter to a lover just makes his heart soar 

Every time he ships out he takes the personalized stationery from his family’s ranch to write on 

Seeing the Seresin’s logo every time you opened his letters made you smile 

Jake had a way with words, the southern charm really came out when he wrote to you 

He’ll tell you that he loves you, but it’s a whole page of him describing how you make him feel 

‘I’ve never felt a love like this before you.’

‘You make me want to come home and fly safer—can’t imagine my life without you, Darlin.’

Of course, he hypes himself up too and tells you about his successful missions and training exercises 

always, always, always reassures you that he’s ok and will come back home to you safely 

Sprays his letters with his cologne 

You always know there’s a letter in your pile of mail by the way it smells 

You keep a small box of his letters that he’s sent you over the years in your closet, pulling one out when you miss him 

His spicier letters always go in the drawer of your bedside table 

When he’s home you make him read the letters to you 

“Read me the part where you tell me how pretty I am,” you said, only half joking as you hand him one of the pages 

He pulls you into his lap and attaches his lips to your neck 

“I could always just show you, Darlin’,” he grumbles, his accent slapped on thick while his hands roamed your sides 

You hummed in delight but gently pushed him away 

He pouted and threw his head on the back of the couch boyishly

“I wanna hear it in your pretty voice, start us a bath and I’ll get my favorites,” you told him with a smirk

Jake smiled and considered it a win/win situation 

You sat in front of him in the tub, one of his hands running a loofa along your chest while he held the letter away from the water, whispering all the pretty words in your ear 

Bob wrote letters for his little family 

He’d always sent you letters over the years you’d been together

Bob cutely asked if he could send you letters while he was away right after you began dating 

You knew you were each other's soulmate from the very beginning so naturally, you said yes

He thought it would be a good way to help his daughters with their reading by sending them their own letter

Each envelope contained four letters: one for Amy, one for Jo, one for you that was paired with some polaroids that were meant for your eyes only, and one to read together 

“Girls! Your dad sent us mail!” you called, sticking the photos that were wrapped in another sheet of paper in your back pocket 

The girls ran from their spots and gasped as they saw the mail in your hands 

You passed them their letters but they both looked up at you longingly, “Let’s go,” you giggled 

The girls ran to the couch and eagerly waited for you to start reading 

Josephine always curled up to your side while Amy sat on the floor with her head resting on your knees (she was a daddy’s girl and didn’t want you or her annoying little sister to see her cry) 

“For my Floyd girls…” 

“Are you crying already?” Josephine cackled 

“Shut up, Josephine!” 

“Four eyes,” Jo mumbled 

“Baby…” Amy bit back 

Ironically the first sentence was Bob telling the girls not to make fun of each other 

After the girls went to bed with the read letters sitting on their tables, you read your letter in private, wiping away the tears that always seemed to fall 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he told you over the phone later that night, trying not to laugh 

“I can’t help it. I miss you so much,” you tell him, finding yourself trying not to laugh at how fast the tears came while you clutched the paper to your chest. “Your letter was beautiful.” 

“I’ll be home in a few days, I miss you so much—I really miss you.” 

You clenched your thighs at the sudden change of tone 

Your fond smile turned into a sly grin, putting the letter down and picking up the pictures he managed to take of himself for you. “You outdid yourself with these, Robby,” you said, biting back a moan. 

“Only for you, my love.” 

Mickey loved sending you letters when he had no signal 

He always had something to tell you 

He often found himself being cut off by signal failure when you two got to talk 

“So we were in the air, right and then another plane came in an-” his face fell when he heard the small beeps 

“Mi amor? Baby? Can you hear me? Shit…” 

His letters contained heavy detail about everything 

Training? Pain painstakingly in depth 

The whales he saw? You got at least three pages about them 

“Another thick one, Mrs. Garcia,” your mailman let out a big belly laugh as he handed you the envelope 

You were surprised the envelope managed to close with how thick it was 

It was at least a month or two worth of pages sitting on your bed

Fanboy didn’t send letters…he sent novels 

But then again, you loved a long read 

He included little doodles of airplanes and ocean animals in the corners 

You remembered your first date when the WSO barely said a word out of nerves 

But after you mentioned a tv show you both liked he hasn’t shut up since 

You liked that he sent long letters, it occupied the time while he was away 

It made you miss him slightly less 

“I think you should be a writer,” you told him playfully over a video call 

You swooned as those pearly white teeth flashed when he smiled, his gorgeous laugh was music to your ears 

“I think I’m a better WSO, mi amor,” he countered 

“I don't know, Mickey, your page about going through that mountain was riveting.” 

“You think?” 

You nodded and showed him a binder filled with the letters he sent you 

His smile faded a little, “I wish I could keep them that organized,” he told you as he held up a couple that you sent him 

Shaking your head you sighed, “You kept them, that’s all that matters to me.” 

“I kept every one of ‘em.”

[allysah]

i want to list some seward stories here so people can understand a little better why i like this little fucker. here’s what i call “sewardisms”:

so william henry seward was THE light of the ballroom basically. he was ur one stop to have a good conversation with a cigar and drink in hand. and imagine that while knowing he was a fiery little red head standing at 5’6 who’s slender frame was likened to a scarecrow.

his favorite color was yellow and YOU WILL KNOW it. half of his clothes were yellow. his hanker-chiefs were yellow. He loved himself some stupid yellow.

he married frances seward in 1824 and they were the cutest lovebirds ever. they had five kids and fred seward and his wife became the like Defacto secretaries of seward and his lafayette park house bc he was literally never at home with his wife.

continuing w him and frances he once got into a love triangle (square?) with frances and this older senator who saw him as a young man who could fulfill his dreams. his name was albert tracy haller and this is one of his letters to him:

SO seward replies reciprocating it stating that he was happy learning they shared “feelings which I had become half ashamed for their effeminacy to confess I possessed.” but then haller gets like more continually obsessive and angry when seward doesn’t respond as quickly (he’s just like me fr). so he ruined their relationship as haller and thurlow weed (sewards bff and main political advisor) were ALSO beginning to beef over seward. so seward ended up picking weed over the obsessive haller. BUT ITS NOT OVER!!! because while seward is off working haller gets in with frances and tries to get with her and it starts to work… until seward writes a bunch of letters crying and begging her to not leave him because he was scared she didn’t love him anymore. so they both decided to throw haller out and never speak to him again! Power couple!!!

the first night that abraham lincoln and seward met they had to share a bed together where they chatted throughout the night and then finally fell asleep. in a weird coincidence, and the final days they spent together were in seward’s bed as he whispered stories to seward who was currently in excruciating pain because of his shoulder and broken jaw. whenever seward finally fell asleep (something which he dearly needed) lincoln finally left.

i just absolutely adore the relationship between the two. they started off as aquantiances and grew into rivals during the 1860 election. whenever lincoln won seward was PISSED that such a lowly small town lawyer could win but took the secretary of state job anyways. they slowly grew into friends and then by the end of the first year lincoln was spending basically every waking moment with him. they had the same sense of humor and interests, such as theater which seward was his main guest at each performance. they were basically inseparable as he was the closest to lincoln in the cabinet and they had become bffs. they make me so happy, they didn’t care for looks and most of the time you could find them with ruffled hair and misplaced clothing. seward thought the absolute world of lincoln because of how good of a person he was. like i just can’t understate how much seward loved lincoln and saw him for all of his wisdom. i’ve mentioned this before but at this point seward was seeing lincoln more than lincoln’s own wife so she (being mary todd) was angry and jealous of seward (totally understandable) who lincoln spent his nights with instead of her. this jealousy also leached out into other members of the cabinet such as salmon p chase, edwin stanton, and gideon welles who were angry their president spent more time with seward than the actual cabinet. they thought seward had his ear most of the time and was just the acting president. ppl spread those rumors a lot my favorite insult is when george mcclellan called seward a meddling incompetent puppy. it got to the point where seward was gonna resign bc of it until lincoln stepped in and was like No you’re not leaving.

seward came up with adding thanksgiving as a holiday and lincoln was like “hell yeah”

seward got into a carriage accident and dislocated his shoulder and broke his jaw. so for a few weeks he was bed ridden. during this time was the assassination attempts of both him and lincoln. lincoln died while seward’s face was slashed the hell up but he was otherwise still kicking. no one told him that lincoln had passed but when he saw the american flag hanging half mast one morning he knew. while crying he said that if lincoln was alive he would have already come to see him or ask about him but he knew.

after this was some more big hits as his wife died the same year and so did his daughter. he was literally having the WORST year ever and i feel so bad for him.

yeah there’s definitely more but those are the big bits (which i’m probably fucking up some). he’s so campy. i love the little fucker so so much.

[snowblossomreads]

Exhibit 6: Pinky Swears And Theatre Scares

Previous Chapter: Full Up

Summary: Amiee starts her new job and ends up on a movie 'date' with Sinclair.

“Lovely chat Arthur, I’ll send over the numbers to you later today when I get back alright?” There was a long pause as Sinclair half listened to the person on the other side finish talking. “Okay great! Buh bye!” 

A relieved groan escaped his lips the moment he hung the phone up, and was finally free from the meeting that had run over by a good 30 minutes. Ever since he had gotten in that morning, it had been nonstop meetings upon meetings. 

All of it was bullshit though he thought. Just people trying to cover for themselves to make it seem like they were busy. He already had enough on his plate without trying to look busy, as he glanced at the papers and folders sprawled on his desk.

Financial ones, memos from coworkers, and buried underneath those, were probably some things from his solicitor that he needed to take a look at. Yet, with all of that waiting for him, he couldn’t be bothered with i,t as it was not only lunchtime, one of his favorite times, it was also Friday. And unlike most of his Fridays this past year or so, he had plans for that evening. 

Well, maybe. 

He would first have to ask if she was free tonight, and hopefully, she would be. But first things first, lunch.

Picking up the phone again, he dialed a number and it rang twice before the click of it being answered sounded.

“Hello?” 

When the sound of her voice, which was unusually breathy met his ears, he couldn’t stop the grin that erupted on his lips. 

“Amiee! Are you free right now? I’m about to head to lunch and wanted to know if you cared to join? I was thinking Italian! There's a new restaurant that opened a few weeks back and it’s magnificent!”

There was a beat of silence after his question before laughter erupted on the other end of the line and he titled his head, confused at what was so amusing.

“H-hiya Sinclair, yeah sure I’ll tag along! My stomach did start grumbling a bit ago so perfect timing. Do you want me to meet you somewhere or…?”

“No that’s alright I’ll come and pick you up, be right there!”

“Okay see you in a sec, bye!”

“Buh bye!”

Hanging up the phone, he took one last glance at all the papers waiting for him to deal with, before promptly ignoring them in favor of grabbing lunch. He be more efficient once he had something in his stomach, other than the nerves that were currently bouncing about in it. 

A quick walk out of his office to the one that was only a few feet away from his, he knocked on the semi-closed door and didn’t wait for an answer before popping in.

“Here I am ready for-. What are you doing!”

Enthusiasm turned into confusion, and then concern, as his eyes landed on Amiee’s back, while she stood trepidatiously on the sofa that was pushed against the wall. In her hands, was a rather large picture frame that she was attempting, and failing to hang.

Turning her head just enough so that he knew she heard him, she spoke.

“Oh hiya! I was-.” She turned back around and blindly tried to hang the frame once more before she let out a frustrated sound when she missed the nail again. “Aiya! Fucking shite! Just putting this picture up before we went out. It’s been sitting around and I’ve finally gotten the energy to actually do it.” 

“Amiee! Call a janitor or someone to help do it for you!” Panic set in as he practically ran across the room with his hands already outstretched to take the painting from her, only to have her move away from him. “Here put it down you’re going to hurt yourself!”

“No Sinclair I got it I’m up here already!” She protested, as she tried once more to put the thing up only, letting out another whine when she missed the nail a third time. 

If she didn’t do it now, it was going to stay leaned up against her shelf for the next month, because she would either forget to ask for help or, just not want to deal with it. With another huff, she got on her tiptoes to try and reach the nail one more time even as  Sinclair protested behind her. 

Going to try and make sure she didn’t take a tumble off the sofa in case things went tits up, he froze when she reached up to hang the picture once more. Whether she realized it or not, her tiptoeing caused her skirt to ride up her legs, giving him a delicious view of the back of her thighs, which were soft and shapely. 

It had been six years, yet the sight of them had his fingers twitching, memories of being able to touch, and caress the delicate skin immediately began to to plague his mind. And if he wasn’t careful, something else would be plaguing him that was very much not appropriate for a work setting. 

Though his eyes lingered on her as he wondered if she was still as soft as he remembered. Biting his bottom lips and willing the sudden burst of arousal that was trying to spread like fire, he was snapped out of his trance when a sudden exclamation of triumph rang through the air.

“Aha!” 

Turning around, she gave him a pretty grin as she clapped her hands, pleased that she had gotten the picture up on the fourth try.

“There see, told you I didn’t need any help!” Her tone was one of triumph, as she pointed to the picture that was hung against the wall, before she plopped down on the sofa. 

Slipping on her kitten heels, she stood and went to continue about her victory against the picture frame that had been haunting her. That was, until she noticed the concerned expression etched on Sinclair’s face. His brows were furrowed in worry, and his cheeks were also awfully red which gave her some pause. He didn’t even let her get her witty comment out before he was letting out a waterfall of concerns. 

“Amiee you could have fallen and broken something! What would have happened if I didn’t come and you had lost your balance!” 

“Sinclair I-.”

“You could have ended up in hospital or worse!” He fretted, cutting her off once more as he wrung his together hands anxiously. “You have to be more careful please I don’t-!” 

There was a pause as his amber eyes searched her brown ones, his own filled with agitation as he fidgeted even more from the confused look that Amiee was sending him. This wasn’t him, he didn’t act like this, he was in control of himself always, even if his own energy got ahead of him at times. But lately, he felt as if he wasn’t, especially when it came to his emotions.

Whether it be because of his divorce, or the fact that the person who he hoped would have been his wife was suddenly back in his life. He wasn’t sure, but all of it just felt so big and he didn’t know how to handle it. His mind began to wander for a moment about whether to reach out to a therapist or just purchase a self help book, but he was coaxed out of it when he felt a tender squeeze on his forearms.

“Clair, what’s wrong? You don’t what?” The sound of her voice questioning him brought him back down and there was a look of wonder in her eyes as she waited for him. 

His mind was a scrambled mess with all the feelings that were swirling around, but she patiently waited for him. Even as the silence bordered uncomfortable, she waited, not rushing him for an answer that he normally would already have. Her warm eyes felt like safety as she gazed at him, and the feeling of her hand on his arm seemed to calm him enough so that he could say something to break the quietness of the moment. 

“We’ve just…” He trailed off again, looking for the right words for the moment as he bit his lower lip. 

God he had read so many books, and he knew four languages fluently yet he couldn’t find the right words. What a mess he was.

“I just…I don’t want anything to happen to you. You’ve already had to spend a lot of time in hospital. Not for you of course I know that,” he added quickly to clarify what he meant. “And plus.” Lowering his eyes to the ground, a bashful look came across Sinclair’s features.

It was a bit unusual coming from Sinclair. Someone so confident that he lit up the whole room when he walked in. But now, he stood with his hands behind his back and his eyes not meeting her own, just like a little puppy who was scared and had its tail between its legs.

“I think six years of not seeing each other is more than enough; I don’t want us to have to keep adding on to that.”

His words sat in the air for a moment as he was hesitant to look up. A feeling of vulnerability that he hadn’t felt since finding out that Natalie had been cheating on him washed over him. But this was a different type of vulnerability, not a constricting one filled with confusion and hurt and anger, but a strange comforting type. 

The type you can only be with someone you know wouldn’t judge you for the flaws you possessed, but love you in spite of them. With Natalie, he couldn’t remember if he felt that positive type of vulnerability, yet it seemed Amiee could pull it right out of him without even trying. 

“Six years is a long time,” she agreed quietly, drawing Sinclair out of his thoughts only to find her gazing wistfully out the window. 

Sensing he was looking at her, she gave her his attention, a small endearing smile on her face. It made her look so soft. 

“I’m sorry Clair, but you know it’s just how I am. Always doing something silly so I don’t have to be a bother,” she explained, yet there was a moment where her smile dropped as if she remembered something unpleasant before it returned. “What do they say, something about doing it yourself if you want it right?”

“If you want something right do it yourself!” He corrected brightly causing her to grin knowing it would have that effect on him. “ They say that and it’s one of my favorite things about you! You’re always doing things on your own, never asking for help and being brilliant at it. But you can always ask for my help you know that, right? You’ve never been a bother!”

The way he said it almost made her heart break along with the grin he showed her. Full of warm sincerity and earnestness that she could never not believe him. Matter of fact, she had always believed that he would do anything he could for her. She just wished she thought she was deserving of it.

‘Oh enough of that Amiee!’  

“Okay. I promise from now on, that if I do anything that may cause injury or death, I’ll phone you before doing it,” she said jokingly causing him to grin ear to ear. “Here look I’ll even pinky swear with you.” 

Holding out her pinky, because she was very much serious about it, Sinclair couldn’t stop the loud guffawing laughter that left his lips at the sight. This was so very silly, yet it didn’t stop him from coming closer to her offering up his pinky and his own promise.

“Yes yes! And I promise I’ll come running to you no matter what! To either stop you or help you!”

Their digits entwined, his larger finger wrapped around her smaller one causing her to giggle as they gave each other bright grins before they ‘shook’ on their promise.  

“Excellent! Now that I’ve taken off a few years of your life, do you still fancy letting me tag along to lunch? Or do you need to recuperate?”

“Never! I mean I could never tire of you,” he corrected, as they dropped their hands from one another, even though there was a yearning to hold it again. “But yes lunch let’s go. I think I’ve worked up even more of an appetite than normal after that scare.”

“Well, that just means double the appetizers!” Amiee pointed out.

“And maybe entrees!"

“Oh my god Sinclair can we please come back to this place,” Amiee groaned as she slid halfway down her seat. 

Food coma was already starting to sit in as the waiter cleared the table of their entrees, and she didn’t know how she was going to put down the dessert they had ordered. It would get done one way or another, and if she got a stomach ache afterwards well so be it. She wasn’t going to let any of it go to waste.

“It’s delicious isn’t it!” Sinclair praised with far more energy than she had, which was unsurprising. However, she suspected he would be napping after lunch because he would always close his door afterwards. Could it be him taking meetings, yes, but she had an inkling it was a meeting with his sofa.

“I’ve been here five times already since they opened and I think it’s my favorite in the area. Oh, you have to try the linguine frutti di mare when we come back. The seafood is so fresh you’ll love it, it’s divine!’ 

“Don’t tell me that Sinclair or  I’ll end up coming for dinner tonight! Plus I have food at home waiting for me and I don’t want it going bad.”

Unknowingly she had set up a perfect moment for him to ask the question that had been burning in his mind since the start of the day. This was his moment!

“So! You can just eat that for a late night snack if you get peckish during the night. I try not to do that because it gives me heartburn, but I can’t go to bed with an empty stomach it’s impossible!” He happily chattered before remembering what he was going to say.

“Plus I was going to ask if you wanted to come to the cinema with me tonight?” He proposed happily,  “A business partner of ours gave me tickets for an early showing of this new film, I think it’s called Candyman? It’s coming out in the autumn and I thought ‘oh, Amiee would like this!’”

Whether it was the offer of going to watch a film with him, or the genre of the film itself, Amiee’s eyes widened slightly, a bit taken aback by the invitation. Being asked to watch a film with him was not something she thought would be asked today but, she wasn’t going to say no! Especially, if she got to spend more time with him outside of work. 

“Sinclair, you know that’s a horror film right? And last time I checked you hated those,” she pointed out as she took a sip of her water before continuing, “all of the trailers I’ve seen have been pretty suspenseful and a bit well erm horror-esque, which I love don’t get me wrong! But uhm are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! Plus I don’t hate them! I just think they should be a little more logical. Like, tell me why do people always split up in those movies? It’s always their downfall!”

Sitting back up as she tried to recover from all the food in her, Amiee laughed at his example. He was right; she never understood the whole ‘let’s split up’ thing in the movies. Did no one ever learn the phrase there’s strength in numbers? Apparently not.

“Or you know when there’s a trail of blood and they follow it?” She added, as she rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on top of the back of her hands as she smiled up at him. “Especially when they’re defenseless! Like what is your plan if the murderer is still there?” 

That seemed to rile him up some more, and she couldn’t hide the amusement she was getting from it. He so hated when things weren’t logical and horror movies to him were far from logical.

“Exactly! I just don’t get it! That’s why I don’t like them, they don’t make sense at all.” 

His tirade finished just as the waiter returned with their desserts. A piece of tiramisu for her, and for him, a slice of cheesecake topped with strawberries along with a bowl of fluffy chocolate mousse.

As soon as they thanked the waiter, Sinclair was digging into his dessert, all but groaning at how creamy the cheesecake filling was. Being so engrossed with his food, he wasn’t expecting to see Amiee staring at him when he went to ask how her dessert was.

Though he did note the twinkle in her eyes, and the way her lips quirked and formed a tiny mischief smirk. It was a familiar expression he had seen before, and he wondered what she was up to.

“Mmp-what?” He asked before another piece of cheesecake was in his mouth. “Thisisdelicious.” 

“So let me get this right, you don’t like horror because most of them are illogical yes?” She questioned, picking up her spoon and digging into her dessert.  

A tiny groan left her lips, as the taste of coffee, and mascarpone combined with cocoa powder, and lady fingers, created a nice and creamy dessert that wasn’t too sweet and had different flavor notes.

“This is good, not too sweet, can really taste the coffee and cream!” She praised enjoying that her teeth didn’t hurt the moment she bit into it like it would some desserts. 

“Isn’t it! I would say it’s my favorite but I like all of them,” he admitted freely as he scooped some mousse up and ate it. A happy groan left his lips at the taste as he remembered he had been asked a question. “But yes you could say that.”

“Mhmm, so what you’re saying is all those times you ended up halfway on my lap when we watched them was not because of the jump scares, but because they bored you out of your mind because of how illogical they are?”

Clearly, there was a teasing lilt in her voice,  which matched her playful demeanor. Yet, it still caused Sinclair to pause in his eating, as the cutest pout appeared on his thin lips, and all she could think about was kissing them. His brows were furrowed as he narrowed his eyes and he let out a low whine of her name.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up here,” he whined, much like a dejected puppy while his gaze turned down and poked at his food. 

“Aw I’m sorry love, only trying to take the piss out of you, ” she tittered. 

Leaning over the table, she reached over to stroke the hand that was resting on the table with her thumb in hopes of giving him a bit of comfort. There was a slight zing again as her fingers touched his hand, yet it was much less intense than how she felt when he hugged her in his office when they met again. Finally, she was getting used to being able to touch him again and it was more than she could have ever hoped for honestly.

“You know I never minded. Just like how you never minded having to lug me into bed whenever you found me asleep in some random place, which,” she added playfully as she leaned back and settled into her chair. “Is what you’ll have to do if we come back tonight for dinner because I’m liable to fall asleep in the car.”

The insinuation of her agreeing to come to the cinema with him seemed to perk him right up. That and getting to come back to the restaurant later tonight. But mostly getting to spend more time with her had him cheering up. It was something they hadn’t had too much time to do, as they had both been busy the past few weeks so this was perfect.

“That’s okay! I did that when we were in Manchester and it’ll be like you said, just like old times.”

A bashful smile flitted across Amiee’s face as she looked down at her hands, her face warming as she remembered waking up next to him those mornings. Curled up and feeling safe even if her world was trying to fall apart. 

She would be lying if she said she didn’t think about those moments every day she woke up. What it would be like to wake up beside him again. God, she missed it.  But maybe with this unofficial date, they were one step closer? She really hoped so.

“Well, then Clair, it sounds like we have ourselves a… date?” 

There was a bit of trepidation in her voice as she asked him. But there was also thinly veiled hope in it that she almost wanted him to hear. 

It seemed though that he had heard or at least caught on to what she was saying as there was a sudden burst of warmth that bloomed in his stomach. Before he knew it, that warmth was radiating from his stomach, to the full smile on his face that had grown without him noticing it. 

“Yes! It’s a date!”

Neither of them knew how they survived the rest of the work day after they returned from lunch, solely because their minds were focused on their evening outing. Sinclair, who was normally very much dedicated to his work, was very much the opposite, as his brain bounced from thing to thing. 

He had the hardest time focusing on any of the papers that were piled up, only thinking about why time wasn’t moving quicker as he was eager to hang out with Amiee.

Amiee was the same way of course. While not as busy as Sinclair was at the moment, she could hardly focus on the training manuals that she needed to look over. Her brain was buzzing with anticipation, and she found herself pacing around the office more than once. Stopping from time to time, to stare out the window as her mind wandered to everything that wasn’t work.

When the clock finally struck five, Sinclair was the first out of his seat as he quickly and haphazardly packed some documents in his briefcase. He would take a look at them in his home office tomorrow, he had more exciting things to look forward to tonight. Rushing out of the office, he was met with a startled look from Sarah who had only started packing her bags. 

“Leaving already Sinclair,” she asked, pausing her packing as she watched him fiddle with the keys to his office.

“Yes!” His tone was more enthusiastic than normal, and a sheepish smile appeared on his lips as he turned to look at her. “Yes,” he repeated more calmly, yet still radiating that bright energy of his. “I have some things to do at home tonight and I wanted to get back early. I know! Very peculiar for me to be leaving so early but it’s been brewing in the back of my mind for days. Don’t let the other know you’ve seen me leaving okay?”

“O-Oh okay, no problem I guess.” It wasn’t like she was going to tell anyone anyway. “Well have a good weekend!”

“You too, buh bye!” He answered, waving back at her and briskly walking away, leaving a very confused secretary who just shrugged and went back to her packing.

When they arrived at the venue, Amiee briefly wondered if they had turned up in the wrong place because this was not your average cinema. Expecting to see the normal brick building and maybe some glass here or there. She was surprised to see them pulling up to a building that was basically like an art school of some sort. 

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” She asked dumbfoundedly as Sinclair helped her out of the car.

“Yep! They usually do the private screenings of the new films here or sometimes at one of the galleries near Kensington.” He explained as they walked up the steps of the building.

For a Friday night, it wasn’t too busy, but granted, it was a private event, so she shouldn’t have expected a whole lot of people from the public meandering around.

“Wow, never thought I be at a rich person’s cinema,” she mused out loud before she immediately felt the need to lower her voice as they entered the place. “Must be nice to not hear all the talking and carrying on in the public ones. Though I don’t see a concessions booth, and I’m not sure if I appreciate that or not. Do we get like seat side service?”

“I don’t know, I quite like being in the cinema with others, it makes for a good ambience. Some of the ones in the area have gotten upgrades with their furniture and sound as well! But also yes to your point there isn’t usually food here,” he sighed as if it was the worst crime that the place had committed. “I don’t come often because of that, I think the last time I was here it was last summer with Natalie-.” 

There was a sudden pause in his speech, and Amiee looked up to catch a forlorn look that crossed his features.

Natalie? Was that the name of his wife? Or soon to be ex-wife? There was this incessant urge to pry a bit more into what had happened because she still wasn’t aware of what had gone on. Call her nosy, but she was just curious about what had happened that caused Sinclair to clam up anytime anything about this mysterious ex was brought up.

But that was maybe for another day, because she didn’t want to ruin a night of fun with questions about the woman. Plus, it couldn’t have been at all good, which only made Amiee dislike her even if they hadn’t ever met. She hoped it stayed that way. 

“No food?” Her tone was incredulous as Sinclair handed a man standing by another door the entry tickets. After he gave the passes a quick check, he let them through to the main screening portion of the theatre. “I would have shoved some crisps or something in my purse if you had told me that beforehand,” she continued, steering the conversation away from the unpleasant subject as they searched for an empty pair of seats. “When I was in uni, one of my friends brought a whole meal into the theatre. Snuck it right in with her purse and no one even knew.”

His expression relaxed as she told her story, and he couldn’t help the warm chuckle that left him as he led them to an empty spot.

“That was a brilliant idea from you friend though, how put off would you be if I asked you to shove some sandwiches in your bag next time we do this?”  

“Well, as long as you share I’ll do it, but if we get caught I’m going to act like I don’t know you.” 

Sinclair feigned a hurt expression, his brows drawn, and a little pout on lips that made Amiee want to laugh, but she held it in, a smirk being the sign of amusement on her face.

“Of course I would share with you! But now that you're threatening to leave me to fend for myself, I’m not sure if I want to!”

“I’m teasing Clair, I'm teasing. I would never rat you out to the theatre authorities. You know that’s not my style. We’re just gonna have to make a run for it if they catch up.”

“We can throw a sandwich on the floor and make them slip just like if it was a banana peel,” Sinclair added, but quickly retracted it at the thought of food waste. “Wait no we can’t sacrifice the food- Oh look the movie’s starting I think!” He whispered enthusiastically as the lights in the room began to dim and the screen began to brighten.

Giving each other one more grin, the two of them settled in to watch the film.

The movie was terrific. Well to Amiee that is. It was a good thing that the place didn’t provide popcorn, though to be honest it was pretty cheap of them not to. So fancy yet no snacks, she was surprised Sinclair wasn’t bothered by that. 

Granted if they did have popcorn, most of it would have been on the floor if he had been in charge of it. He had jumped over five times during the first half of the movie. And honestly, him getting startled did more to scare Amiee than the actual movie. 

“Oh my god, why are there bees in his mouth? What is he about to do,” Sinclair stuttered out as he watched the Candyman grab the main character, Helen, before kissing her. 

Sinclair made a gagging sound as one hand went to cover his eyes, so he could avoid watching the bees swarm down the poor woman's throat. His fingers were gripping the armrest so hard that Amiee was sure it was going to leave a permanent dent when they were done. 

“Okay but what would happen if she was allergic to bees? Wouldn’t that mess up his whole plan if she died right then from shock?” Amiee whispered to Sinclair who was trying to block out the whole thing. She was serious though! Why this man was trying to ruin his own plan? 

“And if not, what if she chokes on them? Come on he’s dead he should know these things!” She continued unfazed by what was being shown as she had been the entire time. 

Well, that was just slightly untrue as both of them had let out pitiful sounds at the fate of a side character’s dog.

“No not the puppy.”

They had both whimpered as they watched the scene that could have been left out for all they cared. Poor Sinclair seemed to be affected by it the worst out of them both. Of course, he would be, he was part puppy and seeing anything happen to his family was upsetting.

The moment had him laying his head on her shoulder as he looked away from the screen. His face buried as if trying to hide away, and instinctively Amiee’s hand went to stroke his head as the scene played out. Sinclair stayed like that until Amiee gave him the all clear, but of course, he stayed on edge the entire time. 

Their hands stayed tucked together the rest of the movie and up until Sinclair got Amiee into the car before they drove back to the Wharf for dinner.

“I admit the plot and lore was fascinating. But I’ll never be able to look at bees again in the same way,” Sinclair blanched as the waiter took their menus away after they finished their orders. “And then the poor puppy! Amiee, they didn’t have to hurt it,” he whined, still upset about that part of the movie. “I think I may have nightmares tonight.”

“If it makes you feel any better I bet the pup got a lot of treats that day during shooting,” Amiee offered in hopes of cheering him up seeing as he was mainly upset about the dog. “I bet they used jam or something for the effects and had to keep it from licking it all up. It was probably a fun day for it!”

“Now that you mention it! I know one of the tricks they use to get dogs to lick someone is to put flavored grease on the person,” Sinclair pointed out happily. “ I read it in a movie magazine before and thought that’s brilliant of them. I’d be enticed by the smell of bacon grease too, and I’m not even a dog!”

‘Well not a four-legged one but there are definitely some puppy genes in there.’

Amiee thought to herself as she tried to avoid laughing to herself.

“Yeah! It was probably the same as this movie. Maybe we should see if they can add some bloopers in the credits where we get to see the dog rolling around,” she joked swirling the lemon in her water before taking a sip. “Plus, we don’t need you staying up all night when you have an early morning tomorrow.”  

The statement garnered a puzzled look from Sinclair who didn’t understand what she meant. He didn’t think he had anything he had to do in the morning. Unless he was missing something, which he didn’t think he was.

“I do?” He asked, along with an adorable tilt of his head to the side that had her ‘awwing’ internally.

“Yes! I mean…Well actually now that you’re asking me I don’t know!” She laughed. “Don’t you go into the office on Saturday mornings, you’d always used to,” she pointed out, before giving him a cheeky smile. “Unless you’re telling me that you’ve finally fallen out of love with work.”

She always thought it was a bit strange that he went to work on Saturday mornings. Wasn’t forty hours a week and occasionally fifty enough? When she asked him about it one day, he simply just said he liked it, and it helped him keep up with all the work he had. 

Secretly though, she always thought it was to catch up on work he hadn’t done due to his time management. Or lack thereof. Even as perfect as he was, he needed a flaw. Hiding her laughter she listened to him.

“Oh well no, I erm,” he paused for a moment thinking of a way to explain the situation while carding his hand through his hair. He thought and thought and yet there wasn’t any other way but to directly say it. 

“Well you see…oh god this is such a weird place to be talking about this,” he chuckled nervously, even though there was no humor in his voice and his hand had dropped to fidget with his fingers.

“Then we don’t have to,” she replied swiftly, not meaning to bring up anything heavy. “Sorry didn’t mean to rain on the parade, I just always thought it was funny that you went in on Saturdays. You couldn’t pry me from my bed if I didn’t have to be anywhere,” she grinned.

“You’re such a sleepyhead,” he teased, causing Amiee to give him a proud look before a thoughtful look crossed his features. “But no, please don’t apologize, it's not like you would have known. It’s just, well…” He trailed off with a shake of his head before answering truthfully. 

“I stopped going in because, during marriage counseling, the therapist asked me to. They believed it would help mend the issues that had caused us to have to go in the first place.” He explained to her. “It didn’t, hence the divorce, but I did find out I do actually enjoy a nice lie in during the weekend.”

Listening intently up to the end, she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for Sinclair. He did what he was asked to do, and she assumed that he did try but it didn’t work. Though he did gain something at the end which had her ears perking up. 

“Sinclair?” 

“Hmm?”

Taking a breath, she spoke.

“This is going to make me sound like a right arse but.” There was a pause as she looked at him, a waiting expression on his face before she finished with, “I’m pretty sure I told you that before!”

By the way his eyebrows raised, he hadn’t been expecting that statement to come from her. Even more confused than before he blurted out, “you did?”

“About the lie in thing? Yes!” Her voice was higher than normal as she tried to keep herself from falling over with laughter. She didn’t know why it was so funny but it was, especially paired with the surprised look on his face. “You slept like an absolute log on Saturday mornings when I would stay over. I don’t know why’d you ever torture yourself going in like that.”

“See but that was easy! Do you know how cozy it is to sleep with you-?”

There was a sudden pause, and he could feel his cheeks becoming warm at his terrible word choice. Brown eyes that had widened at his statement stared at him, and he could see a pale red blush begin to spread across her face. 

‘Damnit don’t embarrass her!’

The voice in his head chided him even though in reality Amiee wasn’t embarrassed at all. More flattered than anything. 

“No sorry I-I mean!” Spluttering and tripping over his words, he fumbled for a moment more before carefully stringing the words he found together. “It was nice to have someone that didn’t mind being held or you know, have someone who liked to hang off your back like a kola…it’s very cute, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

What? Did his ex not cuddle with him often? She needed to meet this woman and find out her problem because who wouldn’t want to cuddle with Sinclair? You know what, never mind, maybe it was for the best that they didn’t meet.

“Well, then I’ll have you know that I for one am glad that you are taking the advice and staying home now on Saturdays,” she chirped truthfully. “You work too hard. It's admirable, but also don’t go working yourself to death! I need someone to spot me when I’m being dangerous.”

He grinned warmly at her statement and all she could do was sigh internally. How was one person so handsome, sweet and playful? It was truly easy for her to forget about her problems with him.

“I will try not to! But also please don’t, it would scar me,” he half joked as it probably would do that.“Anyways, enough about me! What do you have planned? I hope that flat hunting is in the cards because I still don’t like where you’re living. It’s not safe.”

Of course he didn’t.

“Sinclair it’s perfectly safe where I live. I’ve been there for almost two years and the only danger to me is my flat itself,” she joked even though it didn’t seem funny to him. 

He just pouted at her and she resisted the urge to playfully roll her eyes at him. She knew he meant well, but she was also used to living in places that were a bit rough around the edges.

That didn’t mean he was wrong though, she did need to find a new place. Not only because she wanted to be closer to the office as the hour commute both ways was draining, but also because she needed an extra room for when Angie came to stay with her.

“If it pleases the court to know,” she informed, sarcasm dripping from her voice, “I’ll probably be moving in autumn after I save a bit.” And it did seem to put him at ease as he let out a pleased ‘good’ while she could only shake her head humorously at him.

“But for tomorrow I’m actually going home! Angie’s getting out of hospital and I was gonna spend a few days with my parents and her. Make sure she’s alright.”

This was the first time Sinclair had heard about this, and his face absolutely brightened at the good news. He knew she had gone back one more time since the initial visit but that was about it. 

“Amiee that’s wonderful!” He exclaimed warmly, his eyes shining while Amiee’s cheeks hurt more than usual at how much she had been smiling. “I’m so glad to hear she’s alright. Do you need my help or anything? Since I’ll be at home I can take you if you want? I quite liked the visit last time oh- no that’s not what I meant. I mean you know it had been a while since I went there, not that the situation was any good.”

“I know what you mean Clair,” she said, saving him as she shook her head with a chuckle. “But no, it’s fine. I’ll probably go sometime in the afternoon since I’m going to stay till maybe Wednesday. But it’s great. I’m just super, super happy I don’t have to see her with that tube again. It’s just…ugh.” 

Just the thought of her sister in hospital made her stomach churn and she tried to push the thoughts as far away as possible. All that mattered now was that she was better, and they could figure it all out after she was home and on the mend.

“Do you know if she’s going to be alright? I mean you know…I’ve read that with things like that it only takes a few minutes to impact the brain and it can damage-.” Stopping his spiel abruptly, Sinclair looked down for a moment as if a thought crossed his mind before he returned his attention to Amiee who patiently waited. “Oh actually, I shouldn't bring something like that up. I’ve been trying to keep in mind that it’s not appropriate when it comes to stuff like that, sorry.”

What he said was a little off putting as she hadn’t at all found it inappropriate. He liked to share information, and it was always accurate when it came to whatever subject they talked about so she didn’t mind. 

Plus, it just meant he cared about what he was talking about and wanted others to know. She wondered briefly if his therapist also told him that. Granted she was getting the idea that it may also have been influenced by someone else. She grimaced at the thought.

“No, no it’s okay! It’s the truth and something the docs were looking out for as well,” she explained. “But thankfully, when I talked to her the other day, even though she sounded a bit croaky, which fair I would be too if I had a tube shoved down my throat. It seems like her motor functions will be fine, and they just want her to do a few months in physical therapy.” 

“Thank goodness! That’s scary stuff and I’m glad she’s okay,” he sighed in relief. “Will you tell her I said hello when you see her? Maybe I can send some flowers with you to take to her as well?”

“Clair no you don’t have to! I’ll tell her you said hello though, she’s going to flip out probably knowing that we work together again.”

This piqued his curiosity, as did most things in life, but this really interested him.

“Really how come?”

It was Amiee’s turn to look down and away from him, hiding her face as she tried to figure out how to tell him her sister was a raging romantic, and would probably go crazy knowing they were ‘together’ again. 

“Oh god, erm how do I explain,” she laughed nervously as she tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear.“Just know Angie used to consider you as one of my ‘bad’ decisions. But in a good way.”

“I don’t follow, a bad decision? In a good way?” Again an adorable head tilt followed his confusion. “Those can’t exist, they’re the complete opposite of each other?” 

“Well okay, how about I put it like this, from the last I read, London’s a city of almost 7 million right?”

“Yes, that's what the BBC showed a few months back. We’re growing at a steady rate.”

“Right, So I don’t think it’s a stretch to say, it’s a bloody miracle that I applied to where you work, and that Arthur happened to not come in, leading you to be the one I had to talk to.”

There was a thoughtful expression on Sinclair’s features as he pondered what that had anything to do with why her sister would freak out. But slowly, he started to get the image and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. To say he was merely happy was an understatement.

“Rubbish!” He exclaimed, startling her before grinning at her reaction. “Is what I would have said, because where’s the logic in that? But, when you put it that way, statistically a lot of things had to go right for us to run into each other again.”

“Exactly! I’m glad you agree,” she nodded. “And I don’t know about you but I’m proper chuffed that things somehow turned out this way.”

“Me too! I’m happy you’re here Amiee and I hope you don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. If you do, I’ll be sure to follow. There are billions of people in the world, and I don’t want you to get lost among them.”

Because he would be damned if he lost her again. 

A warmth bloomed in her tightening chest at his words. His amber eyes were bright, and warm, just like a crackling fireplace on a cool autumn day. The smile he wore radiated that same feeling, as he declared how happy he was, even though just from how he looked, at her one could properly tell how he felt. It caused feelings that swirled in her to push at her, wanting her to get up from her seat and hug him. To never leave again and to stay put with him. 

But, she did her best not to succumb to them as her mind constantly reminded her it was too early. That even if her heart, still entangled with his wanted more, she should wait because things had changed and they needed to tread carefully. At least she could promise him she wouldn’t leave again, because truthfully, she didn’t think she could survive that heartbreak a second time.

So with a shake of her head, she smiled at him, a gentle smile that was illuminated by the warm orange lights of the restaurant. A smile that made him forget that there were other people around as everything became background noise. It was just her and him as she spoke.

“No, not this time. Promise.”

By the time they had finished eating, and Sinclair had gotten them back to her flat, it was almost midnight, and they were both absolutely knackered. Helping her get out of the car, Sinclair led her up the stairs to her flat. Her hand comfortably resting in his as they chatted and laughed up until they made it to her door.

“Well this is me,” she yawned, her body alerting her once more that it was past her bedtime after the fun evening. “Thanks for the film and dinner. And I’m going to pay you back one day I swear.” The last part added on as she had been unsuccessful again at paying for their meal.

“You’re welcome and I absolutely won’t accept it unless! You being around is payment enough!”

“Well if you put it like that how can I say no?” She beamed, causing him to reciprocate her gesture with a grin of his own before they laughed. “But really, thank you for tonight Clair, I had such a good time. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve laughed till my face started hurting!”

“Me too! Hopefully…we can do something like this again soon?” He asked hesitantly, not wanting to make it seem as if he was pushing her to do anything. 

“I would love that! Maybe we can talk about it some when I get back to town? How’s that sound?”

“That’s absolutely perfect!”

His little shout of happiness was accompanied by him squeezing her hand, reminding her that they were indeed holding hands once more. His larger one engulfed her smaller one and she couldn’t help but enjoy the comfort it brought as she squeezed his back.

“Well, it’s getting late and while you’re lucky to get to snooze in, I have a train to catch tomorrow,” Amiee pointed out as she stroked his hand with her thumb absentmindedly. “Drive safe and please call me when you get home okay?”

“I will! And…will you do the same when you have time tomorrow? When you get settled of course!” He added not wanting to seem overbearing, but just wanting to make sure she was safe.

“Of course,” she nodded before they stood in silence. 

It wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a feeling of underlying energy as they watched one another. Waiting to see who would move first to do anything. If one of her neighbours came out at that moment, they would think they had interrupted a pair of lovers with how close the two were. 

“Night night Clair,” Amiee whispered to break the stillness as she looked up at him. Even in the dim light, his eyes shone bright as they stayed trained on her. 

“Good night Amiee,” he responded in a murmur as he watched her carefully, admiring how she added beauty to any setting they were in. Even in the hallway of her building.

They stood for a moment, hands intertwined for a little longer before they let go of one another. Lingering for a bit to just say goodbye one more time, Sinclair waved before he made his way down the hallway. Amiee watched until he disappeared around a corner before she let herself into her flat which was illuminated by the hallway light.

Kicking her shoes off and relocking the door, she stood there quietly, her back facing the entrance as her mind raced with thoughts. A loud exhale left her lips before she found her back against the door, and she couldn’t stop the smile that brightened her expression as she wrapped her arms around herself. 

Similarly, as Sinclair sat in his car, the radio turned low to provide background noise, he looked in the direction of her flat’s building. Resting against his seat and thinking of all the emotions he had felt that day, he noted that most, if not all of them, were feelings of fondness. It felt good as it had been a while since he had felt that way and it was all because of her. 

Still staring in the direction of her flat, he noticed a light illuminating from her window that was not on earlier. A sense of comfort washed over him knowing she was inside safe and he knew it was okay for him to leave. So giving the building one last glance, he whispered a tender,

“Good night darling.”

A/N: Ekkk i had so much fun with this chapter! I hope it makes up for how angsty the past chapters have been. These two deserve some fluff haha. I'll probably be a while in updating again (as if i'm ever quick) as I think I want to finish more chapters before posting but we will see.

[maurice-memes]

hi. im back witih another ask (sunglasses emoji) why do you like maurice so much? (+ i rlly like ur design for him hes silly)

Thanks for asking about Maurice!! I do love him so much, even enough to make a blog based around him lol

It actually took me a little bit to get to this, and I fully intend to answer your ask about Piggy as well eventually!

I don’t really know how to introduce this topic, so I won’t, I’ll just say that I liked him mostly because he’s seen as the jokester of the boys. Because of the way people saw him was the “memer” because he made those kids laugh in that one scene. I thought he was funny! One of my favorite lines in the book is so simple and so silly, and it was the one about Maurice having both his legs in one side of his shorts (I actually drew this a couple years ago and never posted).

Initially, I just wanted to make a meme page, and Maurice fit the bill for a suitable mascot for the blog, but having him as the face of my blog made me a lot more conscious of him, and he became my favorite over time.

What I’ve come to realize is that I tend to like more pure-hearted characters, which is also the reason I tend to like children’s media. Because the protagonists are all pure of heart and not as cynical as characters from more mature media. I think I had a positive first impression of Maurice when he was introduced in the book as “grinning all the time.” He’s happy and simply being what he is, just a kid.

I realize that Maurice is eventually lost to savagery like most everyone else in the book, but his appearances in the first fraction of the book depict him as being carefree, and at times, more conscious of others than the other kids and even himself later on. Given, this is only because society had imprinted on him so heavily.

In this scene depicted below, Roger and Maurice walk toward the beach from the woods, and they both kick down sandcastles on their way. But as soon as Percival begins to cry, Maurice stops because someone at home had raised a hand to him for hurting a child sometime before his arrival on the island. It might just be how heavily society influenced him, but it shows that he was raised well and that he was disciplined and conscious enough of others’ feelings the least amount to refrain from making Percival cry more despite there being no one to punish him anymore, unlike Roger. It says something about his personal character, even if it’s not very strong (since he gave in later). I honestly doubt that Roger had zero discipline in his life, so that was an act of him disregarding the respect for others he should have been taught at a minimal level (hence why he isn’t my favorite character, though I still love him).

As for design, even if you didn’t ask about it, the reason I gave him a middle part is simply because everyone else seemed to be doing it at the time too. And the reason I gave him a big purple bow has nothing to do with canon at all. I just wanted a way to set my Maurice aside from everyone else’s. I had just watched Beauty and the Beast’s live action, and Belle’s father, Maurice, had a tiny little bow to tie up his hair, and I happened to incorporate it into Maurice’s design. Actually, his bow was small and off to the side the first time I drew him, but it got bigger over time, until it framed his entire lower half of his head. My association of Maurice and purple was also completely random. Purple was just the first color I saw when I was coloring his bow that first time. I really like seeing people associate purple with Maurice! It makes me happy, even if it is by pure coincidence!

TLDR: I just think he’s sweet and silly! He’s the more lighthearted, inconsequential character in the book, and I like that!

Thanks again for asking about my favorite boy!

[chaoticdean]

This was my first op of the con and I was determined to get my hug pose. It was also my birthday, which I told Jensen when I walked up to him. He had that huge smile on his face, exactly the one you see on the pic, when his entire face lit up before he said “OHMYGODHAPPYBIRTHDAY” in like one go. It ended up being my least favorite op of the weekend, but it does say a lot about the quality when I don’t even hate myself on this, I just wish my face was different (which is a whole other issue 😂). I also walked off with a huge heart and so much love for this dude being the kindest guy I’ve ever met (and honestly? At this point, I have met A LOT). Anyway peep the Destiel flannel and the Angel Cas tee by @sailorsally 🫶🏻

For this OP we were told they weren’t doing poses unless it was really quick, so I shoot my shot: I walked up to them and asked “could you guys adopt me for like, half a second here and pretend that I’m your kid?” Danneel absolutely bursted out laughing and Jensen had that huge smile on his face before telling me “of COURSE we will” before we went in quick for a pose. I love this one, I’m gonna frame it and pretend they’re my host family from far away or something.

This was my first pic on Sunday. I wanted something a little different and I really liked my outfit. Based on my autos I had with Danneel the day before and the panel she had with J, I knew she was a very attentive and kind-hearted person, so I just walked up to her and asked if we could just hold hands. She recognized me from the day before and immediately went “of course let’s do that!” Now, most celebs, once the photog is done, go into next next next mode; not Danneel. She waited for me to turn and say goodbye before releasing my hand from hers, and not before squeezing it so tight it felt like a hug 🥹 Anyway I love her, she’s a goddess, please bring her to more cons so she can feel even more love.

Idk what to say about this one, apart from the (very visible imo) fact that Jensen was absolutely delighted when I said “you go in the middle this time, we’re gonna bear hug you”. Ruthie’s so vibrant and I’m just happy to be around. A witch, a hunter and little old chaoticdean. ❤️

What to say except that this is my favorite con pic ever? I asked if I could perch on his shoulder and he could act like my bodyguard. I had no idea what face he was making until I picked up the photo from the desk two hours afterwards. That’s Dean. That’s Dean being my bodyguard. So from here on out, every hate I ever get? You’ll have to go through him first. And something tells me he’s not gonna let it slide. ❤️

Please don’t repost without proper credit. All photos taken at Crossroads 6, Brighton Hilton Metropole (UK) on March 11th and 12nd 2023.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Oc content ya'll, finally something new, something different. I genuinely think I'm gonna write Kanami's story because I have that all planned out and I know and I see it in my head all the time, if yall want to read it let me know but this is the most creative I've felt in a while so... here's some of that. It's my OC Kanami X Kyojuro

“So where did you get all of this?” Kyojuro was unsteady on his feet, hand resting on the bandaging covering his stomach. His eyes trailed over all the trinkets lining the walls, small objects, a block painted in different colors, A few hair pins, a small pouch that looked full, and other unknown things. “People, friends, Ren” Kanami continued stirring the pot over the fire, the warm smell of the broth, hearty, fulfilling. Kyojuro could recognize his favorite Miso anywhere, and it had been years since he smelt it, just like it had been years since he had seen her, his love. Time had been kind to her, but it hadn’t at the same time. The crystal hue of her false limbs, her hair remained the same, maybe longer, and the white strands that framed her face had grown past her jawline. But her face, even with the added scars and the white eye, she looked the same. “You’ve really been here this whole time?” Kyojuro moved closer, cautious to get to her, as if she would fade if he got too close. “For the most part, took me a long time to build this place, so I lived with Takashi for a year and a half I think, in his home, in his space.” She set down her spoon, turning to face the man she had fought for, she had healed for, the one she had done everything to get back to. “And he’s the one that tr-“ “Trained me, yeah. When an enchanter merges back with their soul you can feel the fluctuation of power, I’ve felt it many times before. Often times though it’s met with an instant dissipation of that power, the complete ending of life. Demons always finish the job, never giving you time to recover. I got lucky, the sun was on my side” She gave him a wry smile, unsure how to proceed, unsure if she was even ready to unpack everything that had happened in the four years since she had seen Kyojuro. He had grown, he stood straighter, and it was obvious he had worked hard, the scars that lined the well-trained muscles of his body were evidence of it. He had an aura of greatness that she always knew he would get to; he could do anything he wanted. There was a silence between them, it was the first time he had gotten out of bed, the first time they had had a proper conversation. She promised Shinobu that she would hide him and help him heal, maybe he would be a slayer again, but that was all. She made the promise in front of all the hashira, new and old, but it was a promise to the corps, not a promise to the man she loved. “You look…” He paused, eyes running over the crystal that took the form of her left side, the shape of her moving arm and leg but a haunting blue that glowed in the sunlight. The dress she wore was short, stopping halfway down her thighs, and did nothing to hide the ways her body had matured, the shape of her, the size of her. “Different, undead, a monster. Yeah, I’ve been told” A sarcastic laugh spilled from her lips, the scars that he remembered still stretching with her smile, three lines like someone tried to pull the side of her face, so much like Sanemi yet so much more like her. “Beautiful, that’s what I was going to say” He was leaning on the small table, the sharp corner digging into his thighs that he paid no mind to, only focused on the way she seemed to be visibly processing his words, eyebrows furrowing and lips puckering in disbelief. “You’ve changed, of course, we all have. Kanami, you are still you. The same woman I’ve always known” She had folded in on herself, arms crossing over her chest as her fingers dug into her arms, holding herself. “Kyojuro” She let out a shaky breath, unsure, scared for the first time since the night she died for the first time.

[puffpasstea]

Could you do a blurb where Matilda and Harry get in an argument? Angst + make-up fluff/smut?? I LOVE your writings so much!

Of course babes. Thank you SO SO MUCH for reading and for your very kind feedback 🥹

I HONESTLY DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS!!!! So, since the next few chapters of the Matilda sequel are gonna be heavy on angst and smut, I tried to do something a bit different with them having an argument. Just so you guys don’t get sick of it haha. But also I feel like those two can never run out of stuff to argue over. Anyways, I'm not sure this ended up being what I wanted but still I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK EVEN IF YOU HATE IT

Warnings: angst, and angst i guess? idkkkk. 

——

Just tell him how you feel. Keep things focused on you. Don’t put any pressure or expectation on him. You can’t control the outcome but you can always be honest. My therapist’s words of encouragement ran through my head as I looked through my bag for the spare keys to Harry’s place. I knew he wasn’t home. In fact, I was counting on it. He’d given me this key “for emergencies,” and, well, “I’m in love with you and think I’m dumping my boyfriend for you” felt kind of like an emergency to me. Emotionally, at least. So, I got to his place, take out in hand, hoping to give myself a pep talk and make myself comfortable before he got here. 

Being at his place, even in his absence, felt like a safety net. Everything around here was so Harry. From the vinyl records on the entryway table, to the floral arrangements in every corner, to the teabags in the jar on the kitchen counter. Surrounded by his favorite things; his coat hanging by the door; the bookmarked novel he’d clearly been reading earlier in the day; it immediately made me feel a lot more grounded. I’d clearly made the right choice making this the setting of our upcoming conversation. I decided to set some plates out for dinner, and, while in the kitchen, pour myself a glass of wine. 

 A couple glasses in, and a Netflix episode later, Harry was still out. I contemplated texting him to ask when he’s coming home, but, that, in itself felt like too much pressure. 

A bit before midnight, I heard the front door unlock, Harry’s voice mumbling something I could quit hear. 

“Look, the media is always gonna find something to say. Yes, but- no, I am listening.” He seemed to be on the phone. Evidently having a difficult conversation. My courage already wavering, I took a sip out of my wine glass for some comfort. 

“I realize that.” Harry was now walking in a circle in his entryway. “You said it yourself ‘it’s a judgement call. Well, I’m exercising my judgement and choosing not to make any public statement. Yeah…I’m aware. Yes, it’s a risk, but-yup. Look, Jeff. I’ve had the worst fuckin day. Can we talk about this tomorrow, please? Just wanna go to bed right now. Ok. You too.”

The worst fuckin day? That’s a sign that I shouldn’t say anything. Right? You can do it. You can do it. You can do-

“Jeez- Holy fuck! Matilda!!! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Harry jumped as he walked in and saw me on his couch. His frame barely illuminated by the TV light in the dark room. “What are you doing here?” Immediately regretting my decision, I set my wine glass down and began to pack my things. Harry didn’t seem to notice though.

“You know what? I don’t even care right now, I’m just so glad you’re here…” he plopped onto the couch near me, and, without hesitation, wrapped both of his arms around me, squeezing me tightly and pulling me closer to his side. 

“Y-you are?”

“Course, baby. I’ve had the longest, most awful day. No one else I’d  rather come home to.”

“Oh?”

The words come home to made alarms go off in my brain. Suddenly, rather than feeling the comfort of being in this space, with Harry’s arms around me, telling me what anyone with half a heartbeat would long to hear their lover say, I felt suffocated and terrified. 

Harry took a deep breath relaxing his back into the couch and blinking repeatedly. Suddenly, he noticed the take out containers full of Chinese food and the plates I’d prepared for us. 

“Oh. You brought food.”

“Yeah, you want some?” I got off the couch as quickly as possible, busying myself with arranging some plates for the two of us, glad for any excuse to create some distance between me and him. 

“Guess I could eat. Not all that hungry though. Just wanna talk if that’s alright?”

“S-sure. About what?”

“I just mean about my day. Could use your opinion on this actually. So, the director, who I thought was my friend, has completely flipped these past few days. The way she’s been dictating the scenes, I mean- even when we’d had countless conversations about how I would like these moments to be portrayed in the film. At the same time, though, I don’t feel like I get a say in this. I’m not an actor, you know?”

“What you mean you’re not an actor? That’s absurd, Harry.” I passed him his plate 

“Thanks, hun.” He picked up a couple of chopsticks and started digging into his food right away. So much for not all that hungry. 

“I just mean….I’m not that experienced. It’s not like my instincts are based on any real evidence for what might or might not work for the film. I’m basically a baby by industry standards. It just feels so wrong to ignore my instincts. Feel like I’m just going through the motions, you know?“

I’d lost track of what Harry was saying relatively quickly, getting lost in how he was feeling. I could see by the look in his eyes, his incessant foot-tapping, his slumped shoulders that he was quite torn about this. In other words, he was being genuine and vulnerable right now. Opening himself up to me and sharing his doubts. Is this what being in a real relationship with Harry would be like? Coming home to the same apartment every night; talking about our days over a shared meal; discussing our thoughts and feelings? Every day? Being there for each other all the time? Is this what I was signing up for by telling him how I feel about him?

“Anyway, I know that I don’t wanna let people down. With an album, you know, it’s just me. It’s my name on the cover and if it doesn’t do that well, it’s my fault. But, this kind of thing…acting, it’s a team effort and there are so many people depending on me to do my part and…ugh and this other thing Jeff just called me about. I just can’t think straight right now..” Harry was still unfolding his quandary out loud, the earnestness in his voice, his genuine desire to not only bring the best version of himself to this project, but to make sure he was accountable to his cast mates was very touching, yet not at all surprising. That’s the kind of person he is. It’s part of what makes him so special. Unfortunately, though, it’s also why we can’t be together. He deserves more. Better. Someone who can be as open and giving as he is. Someone dependable and strong. Someone…not me. 

“Umm, I- uh. It’s getting late, Harry.” I set my plate down and looked sprung the room for where I’d tossed my bag and coat.

“W-what? But we’re in the middle of dinner!”

“Yeah, I- umm- sorry. I didn’t realize what time it is and I need to be up early, so.”

“Please don’t leave.” He looked up at me. Even in the dim light of the room, I could tell that he really needed someone. That someone wasn’t me though. 

“I’m sayin’ pleas here. I’m not usually the one who does the begging in this dynamic.” He smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood. My inability to respond in kind was surely hurtful. I needed to get out of here as soon as humanly possible wirh as little damage to our relationship as I could pull off. All of this required a certain level of delicacy that I’m sure wasn’t native to me. 

Harry grew more desperate the longer it took me to decide to stay. I felt cruel for not agreeing right away. But I was doing it to spare his feelings. 

“Fine, whatever, let’s fuck.” He set his own plate down right next to mine and picked up a napkin to wipe at his mouth. 

“E-excuse me?”

“You’re gonna have to get on top though. I’m wiped.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think I don’t know why you’re really here? Or why you’re leavin so suddenly?”

My stared at him incredulously with a frown on my face, shaking my head.

“You came here for sex and when I didn’t jump your bones right away you started packing up and walking out. I’m saying forget the talking. We can fuck, if you’ll do most of the work.”

“That’s gross. You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, now I’m the one who’s gross, am I? You’re the one who’s here for an orgasm and you won’t even get it unless I do it for you. Do me a favor, next time, skip the dinner. Makes me think you’re actually interested in spending time with me. Mixed messages.”

“Fuck you, Harry. Have a nice night.”

As I rushed out the door, I heard Harry curse something under his breath. 

***

I didn’t see Harry for a couple of days after that night. And I couldn’t wait to go to my therapist at the end of the week and let her know what a moron she is for suggesting that I finally talk to him. How successful that whole thing was. I felt my blood practically boil at the memory of how crude he was. How unbelievable it still seemed to me, though I’d witnessed it with my own eyes, that he went so quickly from being self-aware and trying to open himself up to me to being remarkably insensitive at the drop of a hat. Though he undoubtedly hurt my feelings and the fact that I never got to tell him how I feel will always haunt me, in a way, I was glad the night went the way that it did. Because how could I trust someone who could change so quickly? And who would use our very dynamic against me in an argument? 

At the end of the third night, as I lay in bed, tossing and turning and thinking about all the clever comebacks I could’ve used to shut his smugness down, I heard a loud knock at my door. Flicking my bedside lamp on, I checked the time on my phone. It was 2 a.m. who on earth would come knocking at my door at this ungodly hour. 

I ran to the door, looking through the peephole and hurrying to unlock it once I’d seen who was standing on the other end. 

“Matilda!!! I’ve missed you!” Harry’s uncoordinated form stumbled inside as he bent down to give me a hug. I could smell the alcohol on his breath right away. 

“Oh my god, Harry, are you drunk?”

“Extremely!” He giggled and kicked off his shoes walking straight into the living room. “Look, I got food!” He announced unnecessarily loudly. At this rate, the neighbors were definitely going to complain soon. 

I ran to catch up with him and snatched the bag of food out of his hands. “You got Chinese food…and it’s from the same restaurant…Harry is this food three days old?”

Harry burst out into an obnoxious chuckle. In his current intoxicated state, things seemed about ten times funnier. 

“Of course not! I was…just trying to be cute.”

“Why are you here, Harry?”

“ I already told you.”

I shook my head. 

“I miss you.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the food down in the kitchen. Harry followed behind me like a puppy. 

“I know you’re mad-“

“I am mad.” I affirmed, eager to express my indignation. 

“I know I was an ass.”

“You were an ass.” I sat down on the couch and Harry surprised me by instantly dropping to his knees and wasting no time in burying his face into my lap. His arms came up to wrap around my waist, his face nuzzled closer and closer to my thighs as he spoke. 

“I know we’re not a couple or anything. You and Chris are a couple. Not you and me. No you and Harry. Nope….”

His fragmented rambling was already tugging at my heartstrings. I wondered if this was just his drunk talking or if he’d still stand by his actions in the harsh, sober light of day. “I just had to see you. Hate the idea of you being mad at me.”

My fingers instinctively moved to comb through his hair and scratch at the base of his scalp. He let out a big, contented sigh, a smile appearing on his face, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “That’s nice…” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric of my clothes. 

“I…just didn’t realize you found me so selfish, Harry.” I spoke, still massaging his head. 

He jolted up at my words, but I pushed him gently back into my lap, his arms tightening around my waist as a counter argument. As if attempting to squeeze the idea out of me. “I don’t find you selfish! Promise! I wouldn’t be here if I did!”

“ you think I just come to you for sex…”

“I dunno. I feel like you’re never interested in anything else about me.”

Hearing him confess that broke my heart. My hands stopped in his hair, my chest aches, I was speechless. 

“It’s okay though…think I care enough for the both of us. Just wanna spend any time with you that I can. I’ll take what I can get.”

“Harry, that’s not-“

“It’s alright. I know my dick is magical.” He giggled at his own joke like a schoolboy. 

I pulled at his hair. 

“Ouch! You’re the one with the pain kink not me.”

“Focus, Harry. I do care about you. Okay? You have to believe me. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I care about you a great deal. really! I might even say that I lov-“

“Listen, I know we have a rule about sleeping at your place but could I stay? Just for a little while? Until the sun comes up?”

“Of course. Uh, why don’t you get off the floor and come up here.” 

“Good idea.”

Harry shuffled over on unsteady feet and sat next to me. I did my best to hug and pull him closer the way he’d done the night that he stumbled upon me in his living room. In fairness, nothing much was registering in his drunk, sleepy mind, but he still laid his head on my shoulder and fell asleep. That had to count for something. At least for the time being?

[bungeo-ppangie]

002 . chemistry

ღ wc. 1.2k~ words, 7k~ characters

Setting down the polaroids reluctantly, you finally got back to finding your scarf and heading to the filming location. It was only a few blocks away, fortunately, so walking there wouldn't take up too much of your time.

Of course, since Jungwon had to film an EN-LOG for most of the recording session, being late would come with at least 50 angry engenes staking out HYBE's dorms for the next two weeks. It was safe to say that you weren't planning to take any risks with this.

You arrived just in time, thankfully not with too much sweat. Unsurprisingly, it was a high end academy, to match the album's concept, the loves of youth. Jungwon was already there, with stylists crowding around him. Each held up different outfit ideas at him, trying to decide on the final outfits.

You laughed to yourself about his unfortunate situation, allowing yourself a second to enjoy it before being the better person and helping out. You walked over to him and tapped his shoulder, making him glance over at you.

"Yah, Jungcat. Are you still not finished with fittings?" You asked him as his eyes lit up from your presence. Meanwhile, your stylists were already all over the place, gathering outfit pieces and makeup.

"I've been busy, so they could only take measurements. I think I've earned their hate for a good amount of time from making them decide my mv outfits in only a few minutes." He grimaced, thinking about the struggle with makeup that would come soon.

“Yn if you drank a shit ton of water again right before this I’m going to murder you~” Your head stylist and probable 2nd best friend, Haeyoung, interrupted your conversation by grabbing onto your shoulders to steer you towards the dressing room, ignoring your protests. “Sorry jungwon, but you’ll see her when you start recording.”

“As long as she gets back somehow,” Jungwon replied teasingly, but the disappointed little pout on his face was obvious- his dimples even came out. All things considered, it even came as a surprise to you that the expression didn’t also come with a pair of drooping cat ears and limp tail.

“Young-a, it’s the first time I’ve seen wonnie in a week,” You whined as she buttoned a cardigan up on you at an impossible speed, unneeded pins ready to be used in her mouth.

“Ah, young love. Yn literally stop dieting or I’m complaining to the company, it’s the third time we’ve had to size down again.” Haeyoung barely paid heed to your complaints, instead dishing out her own.

“What are these double standards? You just told me to stop drinking so much water, now I have to eat more. I don’t see a difference. And that statement of yours was wrong on both accounts. We’re the same age, if you haven’t noticed, and me and wonnie are just friends.” You grumbled, spinning around at Haeyoung’s command.

“Quoting Miraculous? I would laugh, but I can’t dismiss my childhood love Adrien like that. Anyways, you do realize that I could go a lot faster if I didn’t have to continue stopping to take these pins out of my mouth to talk to you. Easy work for me, more time with loverboy for you.” Haeyoung murmured, not even hiding her love for the ship. Actually, it should be an entire cruise by now, as she’s managed to welcome over half of the stylist teams in HYBE aboard the vessel. Curse her extroverted personality.

However, you couldn’t deny her reasoning was correct, so you stayed silent for the rest of the fitting, in hopes of seeing Jungwon soon. When you finally headed into the recording studio, Jungwon was already starting his live.

“Good afternoon, engenes! I’m recording my new album with my best friend Yn today!” He gave the camera a wave and a smile, which only brightened when you slipped into the frame.

“Hey engenes! Nice to meet you all, I’m everyone’s favorite Belift soloist, Ln Yn!” You cheered, matching Jungwon’s dimpled cheeks with your own and a toothy grin. He threw his arms around your shoulders casually and slouched a bit while walking around and talking to make sure you stayed in the middle of the frame. Even though it went by completely unnoticed by the two of you, your actions as the live went on were able to completely convince everyone who was watching that you guys were absolutely smitten with each other. It started with exchanging knowing glances before giggling uncontrollably together, or gazing fondly at the other person while they worked on their pitch.

However, your chemistry became even more noticeable half an hour into the live. You would find yourself unconsciously leaning towards him, pr catch him looking at you with the slightest blush when you ran a hand through your hair. Nothing uncommon for you two, but it was completely new for the engenes watching.

You had actually been caught with him many times already by Dispatch, but they were never able to catch you close enough to identify you. You were able to stay just out of dating rumors for years due to your incredible luck. However, it seemed that your luck had run out by this live- but not necessarily in a bad way.

“Jungwonnie oppa, I just joined. Is that your yeochin?” Jungwon’s brows furrowed as he read out loud a comment, which he instantly regretted- well, right after he finished being confused over it. “Yeochin? Ah, yn? Ahh.. umm, we’re just friends. I’ve just known her for a really long time, so I’m more comfortable around her.”

Jungwon’s awkward tone only became hurried with his manager tapping his wrist at him to indicate that they had to leave soon.

“Oh, I have to go now engenes. I had fun today, thanks for joining me!” He quickly rambled, trying to find a way to end the live without an awkward aura.

“Kkeut!” You quickly put what you had learned as Riki's protege to use, ending the live quickly and hopefully less awkward than it could have been. Off-topic, but how were you younger than Riki? You always thought your age was practically the same as Jungwon's, yet you had to use honorifics with Riki in public.

In any case, Jungwon interrupted your thoughts by turning to you with an apologetic smile as the live ended.

"Sorry ynie, I read the comment out loud without thinking. It shouldn't be an issue, it was probably just that one fan thinking that. Don't be mad?" Jungwon parted his lips widely in what he thought was an encouraging grin, but turned out to be more of a cute grimace.

"It's all good with me, sheep garden. I'm an independent girlbossing woman, remember? A comment isn't even denting it." You flipped your hair behind your shoulder dramatically, not unlike the kdrama CEOs you mirrored the move from.

"I-LAND? Really? Be up to date, halmeoni~!" Jungwon called behind his shoulder, laughing as he skipped away. You heard his manager grumbling under his breath about how Jungwon was never this cheerful with them, and that if he was half this happy looking in all his lives, then he'd be on the receiving end of all possible good PR by now.

Little did you both know, this comment would bring upon the most change and chaos in your idol careers yet. You know that saying, "Everything will be better in the morning"? Well, whatever greater sentient being was in charge of making that statement true evidently forgot to apply it to you.

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