#but I think I need this third week to unwind and draw what I want instead of drawing more

[smilesrobotlover]

Howdy! For those who don’t know, I planned to do 3 comics at once (working on several pages a week for each project) but I think that 3 is one too many for me.… aka: The Hand of Farore is suffering lol. I haven’t been working on it at all, so I thought I’d tell y’all that I have a plan. After I finish Sky’s arc for lbl, I’ll work on The Hand of Farore so I can start uploading the pages on the profile finally. It’s gonna take some work but I’m determined!

[peterman-spideyparker]

Wash Off the Day (Pietro Maximoff x Reader)

Author’s Note: I’m procrastinating from anxiety right now so I’m posting this instead! I had like a dialogue prompt (see if you can spot it, lol) and the basic premise of this fic written in a word doc from years ago and never wrote it, and Wandavision has me in my feels, so I wrote this. And yes, I know the gif is of Meredith and Derek from Grey’s Anatomy, but it gives off the right vibe for the fic, so sue me. Enjoy, guys! :)

Summary: After a long day—well, a long week, really—you want nothing more than to cuddle up to your husband and fall asleep, but he has other things in mind to help you unwind.

Warnings: Fluff/shamless flirtation, swearing, and ~smut~ (fingering, hand job, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kiddos))

Other Characters: Wanda Maximoff and Vision (told you I’m in my feels)

Word Count: 1,350

“Babe?” you call as you enter the living room. Pietro had promised a special date night after the week you’ve had. All your deadlines were quickly approaching, you had been worked down to the bone. Plus, after an impromptu but globally important mission with Steve and Tony, all you wanted to do was snuggle your husband. “Wanda, where’s you brother?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” she says as she cuddles next to Vision, the both of them reading the same book. What adorable dorks they are. 

“Last I knew, he was out and about running errands,” Vision adds.

“Is everything alright?” Wanda asks you.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you sigh. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sleep for three years.”

“Sleep tight,” she laughs. “I heard what happened today. If anybody deserves a good nights sleep, it’s you.” Shuffling up to your room, you dramatically open the door before closing it behind you. It takes you a few seconds to register the soothing feel of the room and your favorite person in the world laying in wait on the mattress, rose petals strategically covering himself. 

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” you chuckle.

“I’m your husband. It’s my job,” Pietro winks before propping himself up on his elbow.

Tossing your bag to the ground, you kick off your shoes and sit on the mattress, leaning forward and embracing him in a tender kiss.

“You’re such a dork,” you tell him with a smile. “Rose petals on the crotch?”

“I’ll have you know, it took a lot of roses for me to get the coverage right,” he says, his eyebrows raised in his traditional sassy fashion.

You laugh and kiss him again. “I am fully aware of how much coverage you need,” you smile as he leans in for another kiss. “But I’m so exhausted. I don’t think I’d have the stamina for what you have planned.”

“It was that rough of a day?” he says, his eyes full of sympathy.

“Yeah. The presentations, meetings . . . I’m lucky I had the energy to take the elevator.”

Pietro wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead. “How about I draw you a bath, hm? That would help you.”

“Thank you.”

Pietro gets up, his carefully arranged pile of rose petals falling to the ground as he strides to the bathroom.

“You’re all set,” he tells you after a few minutes, casually leaning against the doorframe.

“And is there reason why you’re still naked?” you grin.

“I guess a few, maybe,” he teases, playfully shaking his head. “First, it’s to show you what you are missing out on. Second, we’re married and it’s not like you haven’t seen it before. Third, I’m joining you.”

“Mm, joining me, huh?”

“Yes I am,” he clarifies, walking over to help you stand, his hands carefully roaming your body. “We can unwind together, talk about our days . . .”

“You can feel me up in the tub,” you finish.

“Let the record show that you said it, not me,” he says, his lips pressing into yours. “Come, before the water gets cold.”

You follow his commands, peeling off both your clothes and the day and letting it all hit the tile floor. The hot water is amazing, and your husband’s comforting form behind you relaxes you in a way that hot water and bath salts never could.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, breaking the long silence as his fingers intertwine with yours, knowing you have a lot on your mind.

“Not really,” you say. “It’s just the pressure of presentations and actually getting these projects greenlit. It’s exhausting.”

“I’m sorry it takes so much out of you,” he says kissing your temple. “I wish I could help.”

“I know you do,” you breathe. “How was your day?”

“The same as it is everyday: I train, I eat, I train some more, and then I wait for you to get back,” he sighs.

“I think we’ve turned into an old married couple.”

Pietro kisses your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I can’t wait until we actually are an old married couple,” he says.

You smile at the thought of Pietro with naturally white hair and the lines of age gracing his face, zooming from room to room. Time may make him old, but his spirit will always stay young.

“You’re gonna be a hot old guy,” you tell him, voicing your musings.

“And you’re gonna be a hot old lady,” he respond, wrapping his arms around your middle and holding you tight, peppering kisses on whatever skin he can.

“Stop!” you laugh wildly.

“Can’t,” he says. “Skin.” Kiss. “Too.” Kiss. “Soft.”

You adjust in the large tub so your fronts face each other, his lips moving from your neck to your lips, hungrily kissing you. You kiss him just a fervently, your fingers tangling in his wet hair as your movements cause the water to splash over the edge of the tub. The water and soap makes everything slicker, and as you try to position yourselves in a way that advances your movements, you constantly slide under the waterline. 

Pietro curses under his breath and picks you up, taking you out of the now lukewarm water and pressing your back against the cool tile of the walk-in shower, his lips never once leaving your body. Your hand slides between your bodies as you gently grab his length, your gentle stroking quickly making it hard. As you pleasure Pietro, his fingers tease your inner thigh, carefully pushing them apart to feel your slick folds. He carefully pumps one, then two fingers into you as his thumb rubs your throbbing clit. You gasp at the sensation, your hand coming off of his cock to hold him close as you kiss.

“Are you ready for me, princesa?” he hums as he marks your neck with his teeth.

“Oh, Pietro,” you moan.

“Tell me you’re ready for me,” he commands.

“I’m ready for you to fuck me,” you tell him.

He licks a line up to your ear, biting on the lobe before moving down your body, readily eating you out. You moan in pleasure, pulling at his hair as he moves his lips and tongue between your legs. It feels as if he is down there forever when he comes back up, his pupils blown with lust.

“Now you’re ready for me to fuck you,” he growls. 

His lips attack yours like an animal, and you can taste your arousal on his lips. Pietro swiftly picks you up before effortlessly sliding into you and fucking you senseless. His thrusts are deep, the grip of his hands intoxicating, his mouth magic. You can barely process what is happening when you come fast and hard around his cock. You hold on to Pietro for dear life, letting him continue his thrusts until he finds release himself. As your heart rates decline, he carefully lowers you and pulls out. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“Are you feeling better?” he smirks.

“Much,” you tell him, your expression matching his.

“And you said you didn’t think you had the energy in you.”

“To be fair, you did all the work . . . and we usually do a little more than that.”

Pietro smiles brightly, nothing but the sparkle of love in his eyes.

“I hope that relaxed you enough for a good night’s sleep,” he tells you.

“Believe me, it did,” you assure him, your eyes starting to feel heavy.

He kisses your forehead and embraces you lovingly. He grabs a nearby towel and wipes you down, placing kisses here and there as he goes. When he’s done, Pietro picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bed, tucking you under the covers and kissing you softly.

“Sleep well, (Y/N),” he whispers.

“I love you,” you say through your yawn.

Pietro brushes some damp strands of hair away from your face, his fingers gingerly placing them behind your ear. “I love you more.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​​​​​​​​ @steampowerednightvaler​​​​​​​​​ @themusingsofmany​​​​​​​​​ @just-the-hiddles​​​​​​​​​ @toozmanykids​​​​​​ @dangertoozmanykids101​​​​​

[watchmegetobsessed]

The art and the artist - Harry Styles

the devil works hard, but im working harder lmao! this bts vid got me whipped and ended up writing this little something. enjoy! also, i did not proofread this so... mi scusi!

word count: ~1.5k

masterlist

gif by @stylesinthewild​ !

The warm Italian sun is beaming through the floor to ceiling windows, gently caressing Harry’s bare shoulders and his face that’s squished into the pillow. Gentle fingers are running up his spine, the feather-like touch slowly bringing him back into reality from his slumber, but he keeps his eyes shut, humming to himself at the sensation of those delicate fingertips running all the way up to his neck, they draw around the curl of his ear before moving over to his cheekbones, through his nose, down to his perfectly shaped, pink lips that slowly pull into a lazy smirk.

“Morning, Sunshine,” you whisper with a sweet smile tugging on your lips and when his eyes flutter open and his green irises meet yours, his heart skips a beat.

You’re lying next to him, on your side, still naked after the passionate love making from the previous night. The covers only run up to your navel, leaving your chest exposed to his greedy morning eyes.

It’s a view he can easily get used to wake up to every morning, your slightly puffy eyes from the sleep, the bright smile on your oh so kissable lips and your smooth skin, just screaming to be touched everywhere and he can’t wait to roam your body like it’s the first time he gets to feel you up. It’s not, he has explored your body over a million times, he knows every little freckle and wrinkle, probably more than you do, but he can never grow tired to love on you every given opportunity.

Pushing himself closer he steals a lingering kiss before letting his head fall back into the pillow, his green orbs staring into your eyes so intently, it feels like he is reading your soul.

“What do you feel like doing today?”

It’s the third day of your week-long vacation with him, your little getaway from everyone and everything, just the two of you in a magical Italian village in a hidden villa near the crystal clear ocean. You’ve been exploring the place since your arrival, wanting to see every tiny sight the village has to over you, but there’s only so much to see. Today brought the chance to slow down a little and take a breath, relax and unwind.

“We haven’t even used our pool yet,” he states matter-of-factly and you nod into the pillow, turning to your stomach and resting your head on your hands. Harry’s eyes wonder down your body, his gaze lingering over the curve of the side of your breasts as they are now pressed against the mattress, the lines of your ribs, the small daisy tattoo just under the line where your bra usually rests, the valley of your waist and then the delicious looking curve of your behind under the sheets. He drinks in every tiny detail of you, putting it away into the corner of his mind that’s entirely dedicated to his love for you.

“Pool day it is then,” you smile at him, having nothing against his suggestion.

Following a nice breakfast you put some sunscreen on Harry’s shoulders before he does the same for you, paying extra attention to the little freckles on your shoulders, even kissing them once he is done. You’re wearing a simple, baby blue bikini while Harry has his swimming trunks and an oversized, white shirt on. It swallows his frame, making him look a lot smaller than he is, his chest hair peeking out as he has only a few buttons done.

Both of you are feeling a little too full from breakfast to jump right into the water, so you opt to relax a little on the sunbeds besides the pool, you bring your book out with you in hopes to read a few chapters. Harry’s eyes are looking around the secluded backyard of the villa, eyeing all the different kinds of tropical plants in huge, ceramic pots sitting along the tall fence. Then his gaze stops on something and you see him moving from the corner of your eyes. You quickly finish the line you are reading and look up to see what your boyfriend is up to, finding him staring down at you with a hat on his head that’s filled with all kinds of flowers and dried plants and some glorious looking peacock feathers sticking out from the back. It’s more like an artistic peace rather than something you’d wear on the street, but Harry can surely pull it off, like anything else in fashion. You often think that he was born to own whatever fashion has to offer to one, there’s never been one think he couldn’t make look flawless and breathtaking.

His baggy shirt is hanging on his muscular frame, the sleeves covering his hands as he sits on the rocks around the plants at the end of the backyard, the endless, blue ocean running behind him along the horizon.

“Looking fabulous,” you smirk at him and he smiles back, tilting his head up a little so you can adore his perfect side profile as well.

“Try it on,” he tells you taking the hat off and holding out for you. Putting your book aside you stand from the sunbed and walk over to him, taking the hat and placing it on your head. It makes your hair stick to your head and you wonder how you look as Harry stares back at you with an amazed smile.

“You always tell me how good I make clothes look, but Love, you need to see yourself sometimes. You look absolutely stunning,” he praises, his bright eyes taking in the sight of you in front of him, in just your bikini and this fantastic hat. “I love this fit,” he adds smirking at you.

“Yeah? Is there anything that would make it even better?” you question with a raised eyebrow. You watch him look you up and down, taking his time to take in what he sees before he shakes his head no.

“No, it’s perfect.”

“I have a version I think you’d like,” you smirk at him playfully, his eyes meeting yours as he is trying to figure out what you have in mind.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, bringing your hands up to your neck and easily untying your bikini behind your neck then back, letting the top fall to the tiled ground in a heartbeat, Harry’s lips parting at the sight of your almost fully naked body. “What about now?” you tease, bringing your hands over your stomach, slowly making their way up over your breasts, cupping them slightly before they stop at the nape of your neck, your arms covering your hardening nipples from his greedy eyes.

“You’re right. It’s way better,” he breathes out, lust lacing through his raspy voice and you can tell he is getting excited as a bulge is starting to form in his swimming trunks.

“Yeah? And what about…” Your hands slide down to the sides of your bikini bottoms, hooking your thumbs into it and slowly pushing it down, the fabric gliding over your butt until you let go of it and let it fall to the ground, joining the top. “What about this?” you innocently ask, standing completely naked in front of him, his eyes devouring you, burning down on your body as he is thinking about how he should grab a canvas and paint your beauty right now, preserving this moment forever.

He is fascinated by how the Sun is gleaming on your skin, your hair carelessly falling to your shoulders and that confident, wicked smile on your lips is making him feel things only you can bring to him. Licking his lips he nods in approval before his eyes move up to meet yours again after the wonderful trip they did on your body.

“You are art, Love,” he tells you, making your heart flutter in your very naked chest. You breathe out biting into your bottom lip before you take the hat off and throw it in his way that he easily catches.

Turning around you step to the edge of the pool, but you look back at him over your shoulder.

“Come be an artist then, and claim your art,” you tell him with a challenging smile before you jump into the cool water, the glistening blues swallowing your naked form from Harry’s needy eyes.

When you come back up, you only see the hat sitting on the ground and his abandoned white shirt next to it, the water wavering not only around you, but at a spot near the edge where you jumped in.

A few seconds later Harry’s head emits from the water just inches away from you, his hands quickly finding their way around your waist as he pulls you against him, fingers digging into your soft skin.

He smirks down at you, blinking a few times to get the water out of his eyes before he speaks up.

“I fucking love Italy.”

[booksarelife-stuff]

Dancin’ is a Dangerous Thing

James Potter/Lily Evans Potter (jily)

The moments in which James Potter and Lily Evans danced with each other. Pure fluff. 

Word Count: 2,556

Read on AO3

The first time Lily Evans danced with James Potter, it was a complete accident. 

It was fifth year, Gryffindors had not only won the Quidditch Cup, but the House Cup as well. The music is loud and blaring some wizarding band that Lily thinks is trying way too hard to be Queen. 

She’s tipsy, but not drunk. Her fingertips are tingling and she knows her face is flushed. She just finished her second firewhiskey of the night before Mary pulled her to the part of the common room where most of the other Gryffindors were dancing. 

She’s passed from partner to partner. She remembers Sirius at one point, watching him trying to teach Peter how to swing his hips. She laughed hysterically before Marlene pulled her back in.

She was sweaty when she spun right into James’s chest, almost knocking him over. He grabbed on to her to save himself from falling, his hands on her back, Lily’s face in his chest. 

“Oof,” Lily said. 

“A bit drunk there, Evans?” James asked as Lily pulled away.  She was so close he could hear him over the music. 

“Nope,” she said, stumbling. He snorted just as a new song started. This time it was Killer Queen. 

“I love this song!” she yelled. Lily would deny that she was the one to grab James’s hand and pull him in to dance, but all she could remember was the warmth of his hand in hers and how she laughed when he twirled her. 

The second time started with a question. 

“Do wizards even have their own dances?” Mary asked, scrunching her nose. All the sixth year Gryffindor’s had snagged a table in the common room and were quietly doing their work until Sirius asked a question about Muggle traditions for his Muggle studies class. 

“Nah,” James said from beside Peter. His feet were kicked up on the table as he leaned back in his chair. Alice had been doodling on his shoes, which Lily was sure James knew, but didn’t tell her to stop. 

“I mean, we have the same,” Sirius said with a shrug, “Just use them in different places.”

“These pureblood boys had to take dancing lessons,” Marlene said, smugly.  Sirius scoffed. 

“Yeah, so we could dance with whatever cousin Mummy and Daddy picked out for us,” he said. 

Lily blanched at that. 

“Mum made me do it to get out my energy,” James said. “Never worked. I would just waltz around until I broke something.”

The table laughed. 

“Lily, don’t you know how to waltz?” Mary asked. Lily sighed and nodded. 

“We learned in primary school for some reason,” Lily said. “Like anyone one of us in Cokesworth was going to need that knowledge.”

“Show me,” James said, his bright hazel eyes meeting hers. Lily raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” she asked, feeling the heat of a challenge from him. He smirked at her, a hand reaching up to his hair to mess it up. 

“You said no one from Cokesworth was going to need that knowledge,” he said. “So I’m asking you to show me.”

She knew what James was doing. It was plain as day. It was either a challenge or an excuse to dance with her, but frankly, she really didn’t care which it was, based on the way the butterflies erupted in her stomach. 

“I need a partner,” she said, sticking her hand out towards him. 

“You’re on,” he said, closing his book and dropping his feet to the ground. 

The warmth of his hand made her whole body tingle and she hoped her face wasn’t bright red as she felt his other hand appear on the small of her back, the starting position. Lily wondered when he got so tall, as she would have to crane her neck up to look at him. She decided to stare at the knot of his tie that was peeking out from his gray jumper. 

Marlene started humming, and they started off clumsily, but it was fine. 

“So, um, bad time to tell you Evans,” James started, glancing down at their first. “I’m bloody rubbish at dancing.”

He stepped on her foot and punched him in the arm. 

~~~

The third time they danced, Lily realized she was in bloody love with the bloke. 

Seventh year had brought a lot of surprises to Lily, including James as the head boy. It seemed since he walked into the prefect compartment on the very first day on the train, he was all she could think about. 

But they were just friends, she reminded herself every time he would playfully knock her shoulder during patrols, or stay up past midnight talking. 

When Petunia’s wedding invitation arrived at breakfast, Lily didn’t want to go, but an accompanying letter from her mother confirmed that Lily had no choice in the matter, but she could bring a date. 

When she asked James to go, her palms were sweating and her heart was jumping in her throat, but he had said yes, like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Petunia's wedding was on New Year’s eve, going into the new year. Lily had been in a bad mood as a result of her family bossing her around to get the wedding all ready. 

But when James arrived, everything seemed to change for Lily. He was dressed in nice muggle clothes and Lily could tell that he had tried to manage his hair. She hugged him tightly. 

He charmed her whole family in minutes, besides Petunia. Whether because he was a freak like Lily or because he had brown skin, Petunia glared at him constantly, her mouth pinched in a sour expression. 

Lily wanted to apologise for even bringing him into the situation but he wouldn’t hear of it. She instead, grabbing his hand, lacing her fingers with his, and didn’t let go of it once. 

During the ceremony, Lily could only focus on James’s hand in hers. He had always been fidgety, normally bouncing his leg, up and down, but he instead used Lily’s hand. Either drawing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb or just playing with her fingers. Lily didn’t mind it one bit and she realized that she let him do it forever. 

At the reception, Petunia and Vernon cut the cake before quickly going to their first dance. James leaned over from his spot next to her. 

“I thought Muggles smashed the cake into each other’s faces,” he whispered. Lily nodded. 

“Yeah, sometimes, but I highly doubt Petunia would go for that. Especially with how much her dress cost,” Lily replied. James pouted a little. 

“I came to see cake smashing,” he said. “I was going to write a whole paper on it for Muggle Studies.”

Lily laughed, causing a few people to give her some nastly looks because Petunia and Vernon were still doing their dance. 

“I’ll gladly smash some cake in your face,” she said. James squeezed her hand. 

“Save it for the wedding, Lils,” he whispered. 

If Lily’s heart could have leaped out of her chest, it would have in that moment. 

When James pulled out to the dance floor, she knew that she was in trouble, especially when a slow dance came on. She couldn’t help herself as she got closer to him, their bodies touching. 

“I don’t want to step on your feet,” he said, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked down at her. 

“I don’t care, James,” she replied. “I wore closed toe shoes for a reason.”

He chuckled, Lily feeling his chest move. 

“Sorry I’m a horrid dancer,” he replied. “I practiced with Mum yesterday and I about broke her toes.”

“You practiced with your Mum?” Lily asked, feeling like the whole world stopped. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I didn’t want to make you look like a bloody fool out here.”

She loved him, every doubt leaving her body. She stopped their lazy swaying and pulled away to look up at him, smiling like a fool. James, who had no idea what Lily was thinking, smiled a little confused. 

“Evans?” he asked. “Everything alright?”

“I bloody love you,” she replied. His eyes widened for a second, but they quickly closed as Lily pulled him into the best kiss of both of their lives. 

~~~

James’s hands were sweating profusely the next time they danced. 

Their small little cottage in the village of Godric’s Hollow was slowly becoming more like home to them, despite the random boxes that still linger two weeks after they moved in together. 

It had been a learning experience for both of them, despite the fact that they practically stayed with each other every night since they graduated Hogwarts some six months ago. 

Lily was a bit messy, rivaling James’s need for clear space. Lily walked through the house on light feet, but James seemed to make as much noise as possible, despite his efforts to be quieter. But all in all, they were happy and adjusting to each other. 

James did a once over of their house again, making sure things were in place. He used his mirror to talk to Sirius and Remus, basically nervously rambling until Remus looked James in the eye and told him he needed to calm down. 

But when the fireplace turned bright green, James quickly stuffed the mirror under the couch cushions and waited for Lily to emerge. 

He smiled widely at her when she stepped through. Her robes were covered in stains and she had a smear of something on her face. She immediately sat her bag down and started taking off her robes. 

“You would not believe what happened today!” she said, barely looking at James, who was smiling like a fool. 

“Was it that Cormic fellow?” James asked. Lily gave him a look, expressing her exasperation. 

“I have no idea how he even got this internship!” she said, her robes finding the ground. “He tried to put mercury in a pepper up potion. Literal poison James!”

Lily stepped forward, hugging James tightly. He squeezed her. 

“And when I put a gram of extra valerian root to increase the time of a pain relief potion, I have to write a whole report to justify it so I don’t get fired. I’m sick of it!”

“It’s absolutely not fair love,” James replied as Lily buried her face into his chest. He ran a hand through her hair. “Why don’t you go unwind in a bath, and I’ll take care of dinner, yeah?”

Lily nodded against his chest. Once she was up the stairs, it was go time. 

James quickly went to the kitchen, and lifted the spells that were keeping the smell contained. He knew if Lily smelled his Mum’s special curry when she first got home, she would be suspicious. The treacle tarts, Lily’s favorite, were kept warm in the oven. 

James quietly transformed their living room, dimming the lighting and starting their fireplace instead. He turned their coffee table into a dining room table, and shrunk the couch, placing it on the mantle for it to return to its normal size later. 

Lily was never long for baths, as she hated getting pruney, but he was adjusting the candles on the table when Lily descended down the stairs. 

“James?” she asked, causing him to jump. Lily was standing on the bottom step, nothing but her dressing gown on, which was tied tightly around her waist. 

James felt a lump in his throat as he took her in. She was so gorgeous and even though James had explored every part of her body, he still felt giddy. 

“I thought a romantic evening would be nice,” he said, gesturing around. Lily smiled. 

James went to the stairs and offered her his arm. 

“What is on the menu tonight?” Lily asked, leaning her head on his shoulder for a moment. 

“Euphemia’s special curry and rice, along with a treacle tart dessert,” James said. 

Lily beamed at him as he pulled out her chair. 

It wasn’t until the plates were empty and her dad’s old record player was playing an Elton John record. 

Just as Your Song by Elton John started, James finally mustered up the courage to start speaking. 

“It’s weird how we’ve been together for less than a year,” James said. Lily hummed in question. 

“Why?” she asked, snuggling up to his chest as they swayed back and forth. 

“It feels like we’ve been together forever,” he said. Lily thought quietly for a second. 

“Yeah, I feel that way too,” she said. “It’s weird. How we went from barely standing each other to missing you every second we’re apart.”

“Still can’t believe we thought we could live apart,” he said. Lily laughed again. 

“Won’t happen ever again, that I’m sure of,” she said. James' heart fluttered happily and the weight of the ring in his pocket seemed a thousand times lighter. 

“Living together forever, then?” he asked softly. 

“I plan on it,” she said, confidently. 

James released her. She looked up with questions in her eyes, but they quickly got the answers as James got on one knee. 

“I plan on forever too,” he said, looking at Lily who’s eyes were filled with tears. “We’re not even 19 yet, but Merlin Lily, I can’t wait. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives together. I just know that you are the only person for me.”

He pulled the ring out of his pocket. It was a family one, but one that his mother had brought from her own family in India. Euphemia had insisted that this was the right for Lily. It was a simple opal ring, with an intricate band.

“Will you marry me?” he asked. 

Lily nodded, words failing her. She practically tackled him to the ground with kisses. 

~~~

Lily’s eyes opened up. She couldn’t identify the source of what woke her up, but as she turned over on her other side, there was no James besides her. It took a second before she heard the creak in the floorboard, coming from Harry’s room. 

She got up, knowing that Harry normally slept through the night with no problem at his age of a year and a half. The last time he woke up in the middle of the night, he was sick. Lily slipped on her slippers and walked down the hallway. 

Standing in front of the window was James’s silhouette, swaying back and forth. She could see Harry on his hip.

“You just wanted someone to cuddle, did you Harry?” she heard James whisper. Lily smiled widely.

James started humming as he rocked Harry back and forth. He pressed kisses to the top of Harry’s head.

Lily stepped forward, the wood creaking beneath her. James turned around. 

“Did we wake you?” James whispered to her as she crossed the room to him. 

“Probably,” she whispered, a smile on her lips. “But it’s fine.”

She wrapped her arms around the side of James that wasn’t holding Harry. She rested her head against his chest, coming face to face with wide green eyes. She joined in on their swaying. 

“Hi Harry,” she whispered, taking the hand that wasn’t wrapped around James to pat Harry’s back. His eyes started to flutter close. 

“He really just wanted to snuggle, huh?” she asked. 

She felt James chuckled. 

“And dance with us,” he said.

[uwuwriting]

Wearing his jersey w/ Daichi, Kageyama and Osamu

Request: hi!! can i req the ‘wearing their jersey’ with daichi kags and osamu plss! i loved the one u wrote for kuroo akaashi and ushi. -anonymous

Okay I haven’t written for my Haikyuu babies for quite some time and that sucks. Everyday is Haikyuu day and I simp for a different character every hour of the day lmao. Although my new found obsession with Nanami is taking up most of my time. Oh well guess he’ll have to share my spare time with one of the Haikyuu boys every time. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff, I don’t think there are any warnings for this one. 

Sawamura Daichi

-Captain Daichi thirst is active 24/7 lmao. 

-He is used to you taking his clothes.

-From hoodies, to t-shirts to his sweatpants, it has become a regular occurrence in your relationship. 

-He loves seeing you in his clothes. 

-They are always too big on your body, his hoodies almost reaching your knees and it makes his heart go doki doki. 

-He just wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. 

-He has given you one of his t-shirts to wear to sleep cuz he loves the idea of you having a little part of him with you even if it's just a shirt.

-You two were having a sleepover before one of his major games and of course you were helping him unwind. 

-You helped him make his duffle bag and double check for his knee pads, gave him a massage for his sore muscles after a long week of non stop practices and finally forced him to take a self care evening after he asked you to help him practice with his receives. 

-While putting on his face mask you were going on about something random when you noticed the furrow of his brows. 

- “Everything is gonna be fine baby, you’ll see. You and the boys have practiced really hard for this match and you;ll make it I know you will.” 

-Smiling up at you he gave you a peck on the lips, careful not to smudge your own face mask in the process. 

- “I know or at least I think I do. I just feel off knowing you won’t be there.” 

-Oh that’s right….You weren’t sure you would make it in time to catch the beginning of the match due to a family obligation but you were certain you would get to see the later half of the game. 

-Though Daichi didn’t have to know that yet. 

-Kissing him again you reassured him that the team didn’t need you to be there to wipe the floor with the other team’s ass, that he didn’t need you there. 

-The pout on his lips said otherwise though but he didn’t push it. 

-When the time came for the match to begin, he kept glancing at the stands mainly out of habit but also because he half expected you to make it on time. 

-No such luck though, you were nowhere to be seen. 

- “Oi Daichi focus!!” 

-Suga nearly karate chopped him in the stomach when he didn’t stop looking for you. 

-Everyone could see that their captain was a little out of it but they chose to keep quiet.

-You on the other hand, were sprinting through the streets of Miyagi to get to your boyfriend’s game as fast as possible, his jersey spurring you forward as you pounded down the school’s courtyard. 

-In a flash you were in your regular seat in the very front of the bleachers, chest rising and falling frantically as you tried to catch your breath. 

-You took off your jacket and rushed to the railing, tracing the ball with your eyes as the opposing team spiked it right into your boyfriend’s arms. 

- “GO DAI!!”

-His eyes found you immediately, quickly shooting down to your chest where the number 1 of his dark jersey rested proudly flushing at the sight. 

-The game was over rather quickly after that. 

-Daichi was in top form, his receives being immaculate while his serves were on point. 

-The first thing he did when he walked out of the lockers was to hug you, hug you so close and tight you could barely breath as he thanked you for coming.

- “You r-really thought I w-would miss this???” 

- “........Baby I can’t b-breath.”

Kageyama Tobio 

-Flustered babyyyy.

-He will never get used to seeing you in his clothes. 

-You have worn his hoodies before and he has had a heart attack every time. 

-It reached a point where you thought that he hated seeing you in them and you stopped asking for his hoodies or jackets even if you were cold. 

-That caused the frown on his face to deepen and a very shy confession that he indeed loved seeing you in his clothes. 

-Ever since that day you always have at least one of his hoodies in your closet. 

-Now your relationship is a secret. 

-Considering who his teammates are, you both agreed that it would be wise to keep your relationship under wraps, neither of you want to go through their reaction in this lifetime at least. 

-Keeping that in mind, you never wore his clothes out in public so you wouldn’t draw unwanted attention to you. 

-You go to all his games of course, being his best friend before becoming his girlfriend does that to a person, plus he had convinced you to become a manager alongside Yachi.

-So even if you wanted to skip a game you couldn’t. 

-Now that you think of it this must have been part of his plan since now he can be near you all the time. 

-You couldn’t bring yourself to be even remotely mad at him, he was just too cute. 

-You were so proud of your boys for making it to nationals that you decided to hype them up a bit. 

-Convincing both Yachi and Kiyoko you stole three jerseys from the team while they were changing before you took your seats in the sidelines. 

-Many would think that you wearing Kageyama’s jersey was a mere coincidence. 

-You chose him because he is your best friend, not because something else was going on. 

-Sugawara and Tsukishima aren’t most people and you soon found yourself in some hot water with those two. 

-Apart from the fact that Kageyama couldn’t look your way without having a stroke, he whipped the floor with the other team, gasps and applause filling the stadium every time he dunked the ball on the other side of the court. 

-It got to the point where the other less observant member of the team started noticing the significant difference in his attitude. 

- “Kageyama why are you playing so aggressively the ball keeps going like WOOSH and BAM without me even hitting it.” 

-Poor boy almost chocked on his water at Hinata’s words and when you went to help him he turned 50 shades of red in a matter of 0.0005 seconds. 

-This whole charade ended with your relationship being exposed after Noya begged you to wear his jersey and Tobio wasn’t having it, three nosebleeds and a whole lot of teasing. 

-He moved to your room that night despite the fact that the third years kept teasing him about being safe and wrapping it before tapping it. 

-Held a small grudge for like five minutes. 

Miya Osamu

-Love of my life number 20.

-The superior twin and this will make it evident. 

-Atsumu is always being a little shit about your relationship and how you don’t look like a couple cuz you don’t make out in the hallways all the time. 

-Em sir excuse you!

-Anyways, you know to ignore him at this point figuring that he’ll get tired and stop but no such luck; he irritates Osamu to no end resulting in one of them needing bandages at the end of practice. 

-PDA is not something you are both comfortable with and you prefer small reassuring touches throughout the day. 

-This has led to many believing that you two aren’t a couple just like Atsumu says and other people have confessed to you or asked you out WHILE Osamu is with you. 

-It doesn’t bother him much since he trusts you but it still tugs at his insecurities. 

-And because of those insecurities you get a new wardrobe. 

-Literally a whole ass new clothing line made by none other than Osamu Miya himself. 

-What is in this new clothing line you ask? 

-Osamu’s hoodies and shirts in general. 

-Every time he stops by your house he brings a new item of clothing with him, something that he has worn recently and others have seen just to get his message across. 

-You aren’t complaining, you love wearing his clothes, they are always so big and they completely swallow you plus they smell like him. 

-It’s like you have him with you. 

-Now Osamu might not show it often but volleyball stresses him out, like a lot. 

-It means the world to his brother and despite their fights and bickering, he loves seeing him happy and if that means he has to play the sport like his life depends on it so be it. 

-Osamu would do anything for Atsumu. 

-So you can understand the pressure he is under as a spiker. 

-His distress is you basically and you give him a small pep talk right before he enters the court. 

-Imagine his surprise and pure childish glee when he saw you making your way to him wearing his jersey. 

-It reached just above your knee and it made you look so cute he wanted to bottle you up and keep you forever. 

-Atsumu and Suna could be heard in the background teasing the living shit out of Osamu who remained frozen in place, the whole stadium turning into white noise as the only thing in his view, the only thing that mattered in that moment, was you. 

-He noticed your glare as you told his brother off, saw the way you played with the hem of his jersey as you walked near him and the furrow of your brows when he didn’t answer your calls. 

-Wordlessly he enveloped you in a tight hug, picking you off your feet and twirling you around a little bit much to the dismay of his fanbase in the stands. 

- “Hi.” “Hey ‘Samu”

- “Whatcha wearin?”

- “Oh this old thing? I figured you might need the motivation.” 

- *cue kissing assault*

TAG TEAM AY:

Arcana-Fan-at The @-FIC @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @ storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @ wolfkid22 @ Dark-Thoughts-and-Red-Roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura @yongboxerrr​ @meena-in-a-nutshell​

[amysteriousmessenger]

have you ever done rfa headcanons with a stressed out mc? because of like deadlines and stuff? cause that's the state I'm in rn and I need comfort ;-;

this is my second time writing this because my laptop deleted it ;-; I hope this is okay and I added V and Saeran because I’m a saeran simp <3 

RFA + Saeran and V with a Stressed Out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung’s in the exact same camp as you, screaming. He spent the entire semester in front of his PC playing LOLOL and getting bullied by Seven, so now his deadline has creeped up on him. Yoosung absolutely understands the stress of a deadline coming at you fast and not being sure as to whether you can complete it in time.

The best thing that Yoosung can do for you is to do his own work. The two of you spend a straight 48 hours in the library, only taking breaks to go home and sleep and get food. You book out a private room and just mutually get your heads down. 

 Yoosung’s actually really smart, he just doesn’t apply himself. If you’re stuck on anything, he’ll try to help you even if he doesn’t know anything about your course. He’ll also run around the library finding you specific textbooks you need if he needs a walk or if he’s on his way back from getting you both a coffee. 

The life of a student is a hard one, but the two of you just keep reminding each other than you just gotta get through this one deadline and then you can sleep and play to your hearts content once again!

Zen/Hyun Ryu with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

It’s times like this that Zen thinks maybe he should have applied himself more in school, or at least got his qualifications, because he feels a little deflated at the fact that he can’t really help you with your work when you need it. He just looks at your laptop and textbooks and draws a blank. He hates seeing you so stressed, and he hates that he’s useless to help even more.

He figured that, if he can’t help you work, the next best thing would be to help you relax afterwards. He tries to keep out of your way, the best he can, but he gets a little sad and feels neglected, so he’s a bit like a puppy when he can sense you’re close to finishing up for the day.

 Zen thinks a nice, hot bubble bath would help you relax best. He’ll run you one when you close your laptop, leading you to the bathroom where he’s already sprinkled some rose petals and sweetly scented body oils into the steamy water. 

He’ll help you in, and then sit on the side of the bath and give your shoulders a rub, commenting on how they must ache after sitting at your desk for so long. It’s no secret that Zen has ~Magic Fingers~ and he massages away the tension in your neck as you melt into the soothing water. 

He’ll hum and sing little songs to you as he does this, finally happy that he can help you in his own special way. Ignore his comments about stress ageing you quicker, he’s just saying it as a pre-emptive measure rather than implying you have stress lines.

Jaehee Kang with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jaehee exists in a permanent state of stress, so she entirely understands what it’s like to have to meet deadline after deadline after deadline. If you tell her that you want to sit with her so you can share her concentration and get work done, she’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. She’s also ready with the eye drops and painkillers for when your eyes get strained, but she’d really rather you not get to the point of needing them. 

Jaehee reminds you that you need to look after yourself, make sure you’re taking breaks and eating enough. She doesn’t want you to follow in her steps of pulling an all-nighter, so she doesn’t disturb you so you can get as much of your work done as possible. If you want her to, she’ll also gently reprimand you when you’re getting distracted or off task. She doesn’t like telling you what you can and can’t do, but she knows it’s going to help you in the long run. 

She’ll aim to get all of her work done at the same time as you, so the two of you can at least have some time to unwind together afterwards. She’ll put your favourite musical (of Zen’s) into the DVD player and you cuddle up with one another in recovery. She’ll also try to pull you in for an early night of sleep since you’ve been staring at a screen all day and doesn’t want you to get a headache. 

Jumin Han with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jumin never really gets stressed out over anything. In fact, the only things you’ve ever seen him get stressed about are you and Elizabeth the Third. He doesn’t really have the need or see the point in getting stressed over things, especially deadlines. Jumin will absolutely go off on a speech about correct time management and planning before you have to interrupt him and tell him that that’s not the problem. 

Having a Mensa-level IQ, Jumin’s probably already decently knowledge on your area of study, or offers to pay for you to have a tutor. Jumin’s honestly not the best person to be around when you’re stressed by deadlines because he really can’t relate to the panic, he’s too good at being a businessman that he gets everything done on time or, most usually, early. 

You do have to remind Jumin that not everyone can function and organise themselves as well as he can. 

However, it displeases him to see you stressed so he’ll at least try to help with that since you won’t let him help you academically. He’ll share a bottle of wine with you in the evening after you’ve finished for the day to help take your mind off of your deadline for a bit and will plan a small weekend getaway for the week after your assignment due date to reward you for getting your work done in time and to help you relax. He’ll also book you a spa day in one of C&R’s own establishments so he can guarantee you’re getting the best treatment. 

Saeyoung Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

This man lives with more existential fear than anyone. He knows what it’s like to be Stressed TM. Seven’s an absolute genius with an IQ that could rival Jumin’s if he cared enough, so he’s never had to worry about academic worries, even when he was in University. 

If you ask him to, and maybe even if you didn’t, he’d be willing to hack your college or University’s database in order to either get the essay questions in advance so you know what to revise, or just straight up get the answers. He knows what frightening deadlines are like and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.

If you say that you don’t want him to hack your university because that’s, y’know, illegal, he’ll earnestly take a look at your paper and try to help. Seven has such a weird widespread collection of information in his head that he can just straight up tell you the essay or directly get the research essay that best fits your argument online. You said he can’t hack your university database, you didn’t say he can’t hack other databases for information. 

If you passed out asleep at your desk, you’d absolutely wake up to find your work finished and submitted. Seven will deny doing it, claiming that the alien mothership must have taken your laptop and completed your work, but he has a shit-eating grin plasters on his face and he’s oh-so-innocently fluttering his eyelashes. 

Saeran Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Saeran never really went to school, so he doesn’t have much experience with academic work but he picks it up very quickly when it comes to helping you!

He brings you hot chocolate and snacks and gives you a kiss on the side of the head every now and then to spur you on. He’ll also try to help you with reading through documents and essays for important information and anything that might be relevant to your course. From his time at Magenta, he’s very good at skimming through large quantities of work and compiling it into shorter documents so he’s absolutely a great person to have helping you. He has a similar IQ to Seven and is a genius in his own right, but he has to apply himself more to knowing about different topics because he’s never really had the opportunity to, but he’s always very interested to know about what you’re studying!

He’s very good at not disturbing you if you need peace and quiet, so he’ll busy himself with cleaning, cooking or going out in the garden so he can leave you without a distraction whilst occasionally dropping in to see how you’re doing and make sure you’re not getting too stressed out.

When you’re done for the day, Saeran will arrange the time to give you a little comfort evening with movies and a snack to make you feel better and help you unwind. 

Ray would absolutely just do your work for you, if you’d let him. He just wants to please you and see you happy, not swallowed up in stress in the same way that he has to be. He’d go without sleeping or eating if it meant helping you. Of course, you’re not going to let him do that, since you want him to rest properly, but he still wants to help. Ray would send you documents and essays when he’s supposed to be working and then exit the tab whenever anyone walks passed his room so he didn’t get caught. He just wants to ease your burden!

V/Jihyun Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

He’s also incredibly smart, but probably wouldn’t have any major knowledge on what is it that you study but he’d help the best way he can. He’s the kinda person that would encourage you to read through the questions several times before you start answering and to not write anything down until you’re fully sure that you understand the source material and what is being asked of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and he’s helpful by nature so he’d ask if you needed help, and if you say no, he’ll give you space to get on with your work without interruption. V will make you food and bring your lunch with a coffee when it’s time to eat.

Like Jumin, he’d offer to share a bottle of wine to help you unwind when you’re getting too stressed in the evening, and if you can afford to take a break, he’d encourage you to do something creative like painting with him in his studio in order to take your mind off the analytical stuff. It doesn’t have to be good, it just had to help you relax and vent your frustrations!

V gets stiff shoulders when he’s been in the same position for long periods of time painting or waiting to capture a particular image, so he understands the usefulness of a good back rub and he’ll offer you one to loosen up the pressure in the back of your neck when you’re sitting at your desk. He’ll massage his thumbs into your shoulders and plant a little kiss on your lips when you lean your head back to look at him.

[drarrymybeloved]

Love in a Five Part Act

my third entry for the summer writin challenge! prompt: crashing a party, trope: fake dating & craft: reverse chronology. many thanks to @the-starryknight for holding my hand through this one <3

Harry is pacing. He’s walking in tight circles in the entryway, drawing curious glances from everyone passing through. He tugs at the collar of his robes, the same ones he bought with Draco. No cravat this time, though.

Draco likes to show up to these things twenty five minutes after the indicated time – “You mustn’t seem too eager nor must you be tardy” – so Harry’s been pacing for the last twenty minutes.

His stomach is a shivering ball of nerves and there’s the slightest of tremors in his hands. He could have just written a letter, or shown up at Draco’s house, but Draco likes grand gestures and Harry’s the all-in sort of guy, so here he is. Pacing.

The main doors open just then. Harry looks up, gut tightening. Dressed in peacock blue with hints of dark green, Draco looks gorgeous. Harry’s nerves calm for a second as he takes in the familiar sight – despite everything, Draco feels like home. And then Draco’s eyes find his and the nerves are back tenfold.

Draco’s mouth drops open a bit and his brow furrows before he quickly schools his features into a polite mask. He approaches Harry and asks without preamble, “What are you doing here?”

“Attending the ball?” Harry attempts feebly. He hadn’t bothered to think of exactly what he would say to Draco. Not one of his finest ideas, in retrospect.

Draco arches one unimpressed eyebrow. “Obviously, Potter. I meant why are you here?”

“Draco,” Harry whispers, giving up on a heartfelt speech and letting the one word encompass everything he’s feeling.

Draco’s eyes widen, surprise making his mask drop. He takes an uneven breath in. “We agreed, remember? We don’t need this,” he pauses and looks around before continuing in a lower tone. “This arrangement anymore. You got what you needed and so have I.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. “I got what I needed. But what about what I want?”

A moment passes. The silence between them stretches and swells, the din of the nearby party falling away.

“And what do you want?” Draco asks finally, his voice nothing more than a whisper. His hands are restless, the tips of his fingers coming together in patterns only he’s privy to. Harry remembers Draco doing this before, when Skeeter wrote a vicious article on how “Malfoy’s Death Eater nature” was going to “corrupt our Saviour.” He remembers wanting to catch those fluttering hands in his own, to tell Draco no one listens to Skeeter anymore, tell him that he likes having Draco around and to hell with Skeeter and her ilk.

Harry allows himself to reach out this time and gently laces his hands through Draco’s.

“This,” he says, heart pounding but voice sure. He squeezes Draco’s hands once. “For real this time.”

Slowly, a smile blooms over Draco’s face, his body relaxing. “I’ve been told I’m high maintenance,” he says slightly breathlessly.

Harry laughs, relief flooding through him. “Nothing I can’t handle, I’m sure.”

“No, you did rather well,” Draco murmurs, genuine under the banter.

Warm with fondness, Harry presses a kiss to his cheek before gesturing to the ballroom. “Shall we?” he asks, offering his arm. Draco smiles and tucks his hand securely in the crook of Harry’s elbow.

They are yet again subjected to stares that have not gotten any subtler and conversations that keep prodding at personal boundaries. But none of that matters because this time when Draco calls Harry “darling” he’s not holding anything back, and when Harry calls him “love” it’s because he wants to and not because he’s fulfilling a role.

-----

Harry steps through Draco’s Floo into his living room, letting the bright space settle the apprehension he’s been unable to shake off ever since he got Draco’s letter. He loves this room, with its neutral toned furniture interrupted with colorful cushions and throws. It suits Draco. The kitchen was more of a surprise. When he had first come here, about a week into their arrangement, Harry had been expecting modern fittings and a minimalist layout. Instead, Draco’s kitchen has exposed brick walls and buttery yellow cabinets. A honey oak table stretches through the length of the space and potted plants sit in the windowsills. Now that he knows Draco’s penchant for baking and how he likes to unwind by immersing himself in time-consuming recipes, Harry thinks nothing could suit Draco more.

“Malfoy?” Harry calls out. He’s Draco now, really, but only in the privacy of Harry’s head.

“Kitchen,” comes the answer.

“Hey,” Harry says, smiling a little at the sight of Draco in a cozy jumper bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. “Is this about the gala day after tomorrow? You think we should attend it?”

An uncertain look crosses Draco’s face before he takes a deep breath. Harry feels his smile slipping.

“Yes, I think it would be a good opportunity to meet a few people I’ve been hoping to talk with,” Draco hedges, and Harry can hear the “but” coming from a mile away. Sure enough, Draco continues. “But, I think we’ve done enough damage control, both in terms of everyone’s opinion of me and your situation with the press. I can’t keep pretending–”

He cuts himself off and presses his lips together, hands clutching the counter behind him. He’d look almost relaxed if it weren’t for the tension evident in his shoulders, his pronounced knuckles. Harry remembers kissing those knuckles, tipsy on champagne, and spinning Draco to some fast number.

“Right,” Harry says hoarsely, unable to formulate a response over the echo of “I can’t keep pretending” in his head, a mocking symphony.

He can’t think beyond the roiling in his gut and the ice pooling at the base of his spine. This was coming, it had always been coming, so why is he so surprised?

“So, that’s it then?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes,” Draco says stiffly. “Thank you for your assistance.”

Harry nods woodenly. Manages a “You too,” before he turns and leaves.

-----

Harry hears the Floo flare from downstairs. A second later, Malfoy calls out, “Potter?”

“Yeah, up here, second floor,” Harry answers from his room, wrestling with the complicated tie – “It’a cravat, Potter, honestly” – Malfoy had him buy for the Ministry event they’re attending tonight, along with a whole new set of dress robes.

He hears an annoyed huff from near the doorway before Malfoy comes to stand behind him.

He meets Harry’s eyes through the mirror. “What on earth are you doing with that? Here, let me.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but starts to turn around. Malfoy stops him, holding onto his shoulders to make him face the mirror again.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, steadfastly ignoring the quickening of his heartbeat at the brief contact.

Malfoy shrugs. “It’s easier this way,” he says, reaching around Harry’s chest to tie the cravat, the movement bringing him tantalisingly close to Harry.

Harry stays perfectly still, painfully aware of Malfoy’s proximity. He can feel Malfoy’s body heat, can smell his sweet vanilla scent – one tiny step backwards, and his body would be flush against Malfoy’s.

Harry closes his eyes briefly, swallowing forcefully. He opens his eyes and fixes them firmly on Malfoy’s hands in the mirror, competently manipulating the cravat with slender fingers.

Oh Merlin.

“There we go,” Malfoy tucks the cravat into Harry’s robes and smoothes his hands down Harry’s chest in a perfunctory fashion, making gooseflesh erupt all over Harry’s arms.

“Thanks,” Harry all but gasps, stepping quickly away from Malfoy, hoping he can’t see the furious blush on his cheeks. “Let’s get going then.”

It’s been a while since he’s had any good reason to attend a Ministry function, but Harry’s been to enough of them to detest the entire enterprise. He’d much rather make his donations from the safety and privacy of his own home, thank you very much. So it’s with no small amount of trepidation that Harry enters the ballroom with Malfoy on his arm.

People immediately take notice, the whispers spreading like wildfire. Harry can already feel a headache building.

“We knew they would stare – let them. I’ll do the talking, you try to look like you’re not being tortured,” Malfoy murmurs at his side, smiling charmingly at the guests they pass.

Despite himself, Harry snorts. “Who says I’m not?” he whispers back, feeling a pleasant jolt at the genuine grin Malfoy shoots him before he turns the charm back on.

As the night progresses, Harry has to admit, he’s not being tortured. It’s definitely not his idea of a fun time, but with Malfoy there, it’s at least tolerable. Each time the conversation starts heading towards Harry’s personal life, Malfoy subtly changes the topic with a well-placed enquiry.

“Would you get a glass of champagne for me, darling?” Malfoy asks, turning towards him a little, a private smile on his face. Harry’s breath hitches. The endearment is a new addition to their arrangement. But of course, it would only be natural for Malfoy to use one, especially where others could hear them.

“Sure, love,” Harry answers, not deciding to use an endearment of his own until he had already said it. Along with Malfoy’s champagne, he returns with a glass of Firewhiskey for himself, letting the spicy warmth settle his nerves.

They don’t stay for too long – Harry had been adamant on no more than an hour and a half and was surprised when Malfoy had agreed without any complaints.

“That wasn’t so bad actually,” Harry tells Malfoy as they walk towards a secluded part of the lawns to Apparate home. Their respective homes, obviously.

“Yes, it went quite well, I think,” Malfoy responds with a bright smile. “I was a little worried people might not buy us,” he gestures between them, “together, but they lapped it right up.”

Something cold and heavy sinks into Harry’s stomach, replacing the tentative warmth that was glowing through him not a minute ago. Of course. In between all the touching and the endearments and Malfoy’s surprisingly considerate nature, Harry had somehow managed to forget that this was all a show.

“Right,” Harry says, throat tight. “I think I’ll head home now, tiring night and all that.” He gives Malfoy the best approximation of a smile he can manage and Apparates away.

-----

They step out of the restaurant together, holding hands. The number of reporters camped outside had been steadily rising as Harry and Malfoy fed each other bites of food and exchanged fond looks — all carefully planned and executed of course.

The questions come hurtling at them from all sides, accompanied by bursts of camera flashes. Most of them are directed towards Harry.

"Mr. Potter, are you courting Draco Malfoy?"

"Mr. Potter, sir, did Ginevra Weasley leave you because you're interested in men?"

"Smile for the camera sir!"

“Was your relationship with Ms. Weasley a sham?”

Too much, it’s all far too much. Harry has never been good with dealing with the press, and he’s out of practice now. The flashes blind him and the questions echo oddly in his head. His chest burns with every sip of air he struggles to take.

He feels an arm snake around his waist, gripping firmly for a moment, before withdrawing to his upper back and rubbing faint circles between his shoulder blades. Malfoy steps forward, smoothly answering questions, appearing totally unruffled, while his hand continues to move over Harry's back. Harry isn't listening to a word of what Malfoy is saying. Instead, he focuses on Malfoy's hand on his back, letting the point of contact ground him, the repetitive movement soothing.

When they land on Harry's doorstep, Malfoy shoots him a curious look. His hand still rests on Harry's back — once he had answered all the questions he intended to, he'd neatly stepped back from the gaggle of reporters and Apparated them to Grimmauld right then and there.

Harry makes the mistake of looking at Malfoy. Caught up in his intense gaze and feeling a little discombobulated from the restaurant, Harry freezes. His mind is still stuck on the comfort of Malfoy’s hand on his back, of his solid grip on his waist, and his feelings are a tangled mess. Some of it must be showing on Harry’s face, because Malfoy’s expression changes and he turns more fully to Harry, the beginnings of a sentence on his lips.

Hot panic bursts in Harry’s chest. Hastily stepping away from Malfoy, he stumbles over his words. “I should, um– thanks for today, er, send me an Owl for next time,” he says, backing away towards his front door. He shuts the door before Malfoy has a chance to say anything, leaning against it for support.

-----

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, Potter,” Malfoy insists.

Harry scoffs, turning back to stare at his tumbler of whiskey — the muggle variety. He rarely visits wizarding pubs now, not unless he wants to make the front page of the Prophet and every other godforsaken wizarding tabloid.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Malfoy rolling his eyes.

“I know strategy hasn’t always been your strong suit, Potter, but do think for a minute. Ever since your break up with Ginevra Weasley, the media attention you receive has increased tenfold. You can’t even have a drink in peace, can you?”

Harry turns back to face Malfoy, raising a pointed brow. Disappointingly, Malfoy doesn’t take the bait.

“You want the media to stop hounding you about your love life and I want to not be undesirable number one,” he continues. “It’s a simple equation, Potter, put the two together and the solution is obvious.”

“And yet, you’re the only one who’s arrived at it,” Harry says flatly, ignoring the whisper of it could work, actually floating at the back of his head.

“Please, Potter, we both know who the smart one is in this relationship and it certainly isn’t you,” Draco says, smirking.

“I never actually agreed to this fake-dating nonsense, Malfoy.”

“Potter,” Malfoy deadpans. “It’s been, what, five months now since your relationship ended? The press isn’t going to stop any time soon. Not unless you do something about it.”

“Thrilling that you’ve been keeping count,” Harry mumbles into his glass before taking a healthy swig. Malfoy’s right and Harry knows it. He’s tried everything — polite non-answers, straightforward “no comments”, pointed silence, and even snarled insults to leave him the fuck alone. None of it worked. This might just be his only option. No, it is his only option.

Harry sighs heavily and turns to Malfoy. “You’re going to be really high-maintenance, aren’t you?”

Malfoy smiles, languid and satisfied. “You know it, darling.”

[detectiveran]

It’s been a long time since I wrote anything, practically a year and 2020 was awful and 2021 didn’t start off well either because of a relative’s death. But anyway, I hope you guys like what I’ve written.

If you wanna support me, I would be highly grateful. My paypal is: paypal.me/filterish

It was truly horrible that Ran was dealt such a awful card in her life. An alcoholic father, a workaholic mother and an innate disposition of wanting to please people whom she loved.

She could have lived with the first two cards but it was the third one that made her life difficult. Wanting to do the best she could at academics so she could get praised by her absent parents, wanting to have friends so that she could answer her mother’s questions about her friendships with conviction, wanting to work so that she could take care of the monetary burdens... wants, wants, wants.

To be honest, all she wanted was peace. To not be involved in her separated yet together parents’ tumultuous relationship. Sometimes thinking about her family made her chest hurt and throat tickle. She loved her mother and she loved her father. But she didn’t love them together. And when she came to realize that at the age of twenty, she finally let go.

She had worried and schemed to get her parents back together practically her whole life but now, she knew that if they didn’t want to be together, all her efforts would be in vain. So, at the age of twenty, with a heavy heart, she decided to let her family go. She stopped calling her mother to fix a date with her father, she stopped pestering her father about giving a fuck about her mother. And then came the realization that she was lonely. So lonely that her heart ached.

She hadn’t managed to make friends, life long friends people would go on about, because she was focused on bettering herself so that her parents would praise her. On the flip side, she had gotten into one of the best universities in Tokyo and was studying her desired subject about Medicine. Most days she could live with the pay off. Having a stable career would help in surviving alone a lot.

People in her class would invite her to hang out and she would say yes, just to sit there and observe them. For some reason, the buzzing chatter of her classmates soothed her a lot. They would gossip or discuss about classes or professors and Ran would sit there with a slight smile on her face and her heart feeling lighter. She craved companionship. 

With that thought in her mind, she decided to open up with her college classmates. She knew the names of the people in her class, thankfully and so, with a cheery smile she used to plaster on at her high school, she slid into the conversation about the college’s professors.

“... And Tsukiyama-sensei gives us so maaaany diagrams to draw,” Hayami-san was whining, “I have a part time job to do and then that teacher’s homework... I don’t get the time to unwind at all.” 

“He does push us a lot,” Ran said and noticed the sort of surprised looks of her three classmates, though they quickly covered it up. 

“You find it hard too, huh, Ran-san?” Sonoko-san said, “With your grades, I thought it would be easy for you to catch up.” 

Ran quickly grabbed the opportunity to continue the conversation, thankful that the atmosphere didn’t turn awkward at her sudden interruption, “Ah, well, I don’t actually have a lot to do, you know? Mostly studies and a part time job as an assistant at a detective agency.”

“Detective agency?!” The three of them exclaimed and faced Ran fully.

Her smile grew sheepish as she said, “Ahhhh, but, nothing interesting happens when I’m there. Usually, I just have to compile all the data and file them.” 

“But, still! You must have found something interesting there!” Aoko-san said, with her eyes shining with excitement, “A case? Or a person? Have you ever helped the detective, Ran-san?” 

Ran shook her head no, “I’m not allowed to work on the cases, Aoko-san. As a matter of fact, I’ve not even seen the detective yet, I usually work in the evening, after my classes are done.”

Hearing that, the three of them looked concerned and Hayami-san spoke, “Ran-san, are you sure that’s safe? I mean,” she shared a look full of concern with Sonoko-san and Aoko-san, “you have never seen whom you work with, right? What if it’s some super shady guy?” 

Ran chuckled a bit and said, “It’s okay, Hayami-san. I’m trained in karate. Plus, the agency I work at is super reputed. It’s just that the guy whom I’m assigned to is very, very busy and even other employees have said that it’s rare to see him in the office. He works at very odd hours.” 

That did nothing to alleviate their concern and Ran felt a bit touched. This was the first time she was having a proper conversation with them and the four of them were practically strangers yet Hayami-san, Sonoko-san and Aoko-san were so concerned about her well being. 

Aoko-san was apprehensive and she murmured, “If you say so, Ran-san,” and then in a more chipper tone asked, “Which agency do you work at?”

“Kudo Detective Agency.” Ran replied.

Hearing that, the three of them were even more animated in their response, “THE Kudo Detective Agency?” Aoko-san gasped in disbelief. 

“Wait, the famous ex-policeman one?!” Sonoko-san exclaimed.

“The one that has this hot, handsome guy working there?” Hayami-san said.

All of them turned to look at Hayami-san and she shrugged sheepishly, “What? Everybody knows that there is this rumored handsome guy who works there and is seen like once in every millennia,” she said sarcastically.

Sonoko-san swatted her friend and Aoko-san clicked her tongue, waving her comment away and turned her attention back to Ran, “You really work at Kudo Detective Agency, Ran-san? Oh, wow. It houses the best of the best detectives.” 

Sonoko-san nodded and said, “Damn, you must have impressed the Kudo husband and wife duo a lot. Seeing that they have such a strict policy and criteria to employ people.”

And with that, the three of them were off chattering about the elusive Kudos. Ran chipped in whenever she could but mostly listened while they were talking. She didn’t have the heart to tell them that only reason she works there is to spite her father in an act of rebellion. 

The Kudous were not the reason her father was a piss poor detective but she had spent her teenagers listening to him whine about how Kudo Yuusaku was responsible for the lack of cases in Mouri Detective Agency. And at that time, Ran did what she could to help him, guide her high school classmates in need, put up posters, advertise in newspapers... she did what she could but her father was too prideful to take small cases and too incompetent to work properly on big ones. And by then, the ex-policeman Yuusaku and ex-actress-turned-housewife had established a proper detective agency housing some of the brightest, youngest detectives. 

When she cut ties with her family, she decided to do what she wanted. And so, she offered her services to the Kudous. She knew she could be an excellent assistant and she proved herself by working for a week under Yuusaku Kudo herself. From organization to appointments to little treats or snacks for the clients... she did what she could have been doing for her father. 

And by the time the week had ended, she was employed with a good salary. She thought that working there would hinder her Medicine study course but the detective whom she was assigned to had a set of orders ready when she entered his office. 

She was surprised at first because no one was there to greet her on her first day, just a piece of paper telling her not to come during day time and that her work was to organize the papers that were kept on the table. Sure, there were scribbled notes scattered everywhere on the table but a quick glance clued her in that those were case notes. Case notes of multiple cases, to be exact. 

She found it extremely odd that the detective whom she was supposed to assist had never shown himself. All she knew was that his name was Kudou Shinichi, Kudou Yuusaku and Yukiko’s son, and was an excellent detective. He had grown up in the States and had come back at the age of twenty with plethora of experience under his belt. 

Ran chalked up never seeing him to some weird quirk of his. Truthfully, she liked working there. The Kudou couple treated her kindly, the assistants of other detectives were warm and welcoming, even the other detectives greeted her and indulged in small talk. The work wasn’t difficult, the pay was excellent, the timing fit her college schedule perfectly; everything was great except for never having seen her superior’s face.

Ran sighed as she brought herself back to present. Aoko-san was talking about the lab work they had just finished and Ran smiled lightly. Having friends like them would be nice, she thought. And swore to herself that she would make the effort to know them better. 

That day, she felt very calm as she entered her office. The Kudo Shinichi plaque at the door greeted her and she opened it, mentally gearing herself up for the stack of papers that was bound to be there, only to be greeted by a man, who was shuffling through them. 

“Umm... hello?” Ran asked hesitantly, not wanting to jump to conclusions about who this man was.

The man faced her and smiled a bright smile, which left Ran disarmed. “Hello, you must be Mouri Ran-san?” he asked.

Ran felt a little discombobulated, she hadn’t anticipated someone being inside the office. “Uhh... yes, I am. And you are...?” she didn’t want to presume who he was but she had a little inkling of whom he could be.

“Ah, sorry for introducing myself late,” and he walked up to her and held his hand up for a greeting, “My name is Kudou Shinichi... and ahh, I’m supposed to be working here,” he said in a playful tone with a smirk that showed a dimple on his left cheek.

The only thought that crossed her mind at that moment was what Hayami-san had said a few hours before. He really was a gorgeous man. 

[kawaiijohn]

Going Angst Week Day 2: Obsession

Ao3:  Here

WC:  1689

Nav: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 

prev | next

The scenery behind the door was very... unique Quizz would say.  

“You know, if I wanted space I would just remove a wall.  A room suspended in the endless void is a little... extra, don’t you think?” They asked nobody.

There was a singular platform suspended in an endless inky void of space with a singular pathway to the door.  Nothing sat upon it but a desk- complete with a fancy looking double-monitor setup and roomy drawers underneath.  It looked sleek, modern, tempting.  

Quizz didn’t know why the single point of focus in an otherwise liminal room was so enticing, but hey!  The feeling in their chest hadn’t led them astray.  Yet.

With a shrug they began walking, their saunter turning into a slow but steady glide as they negated gravity.  “Well, only one way to go.  Down it is!!”

The monitors lit up with a strange logo- a devilishly smiling face with red shades and blue flames for hair.  Okay... that looked really cool, but... why was it lighting up?  They tapped the space key and a password entry blinked before them.

“I can’t even remember my name, what makes this place think I’ll remember a fuckin’ password right off the bat?  Sheesh!!”  He pulled the chair out and took a seat, realizing it didn’t need adjusting and was hella comfortable.  

Alright... he could work with this.

With a too-wide grin he began trying to unlock the machine.

-----

It turned out he could not, in fact, work with this.

Quizz had his cheek pressed against the desk, growling lowly at the password box as it flashed tauntingly at him.  It really didn’t help that the damn thing cackled at him with every wrong entry.

“Stupid computer.  Stupid amnesia.  Stupid Quizz... stupid stupid stupid.”  He pried his face off the desk in despair and slammed his forehead on it a few times.  “The fact that nothing seems to hurt me makes me think I’m just having an awful dream.”  Another slam.  “But with my terrible luck I’m in purgatory or something.” Slam.  

“Why is this so damn hard... Always gettin’ myself into so much trouble- way more than it’s worth!!  Gods mom was ri-...”  Quizz paused and thought.  “.... she was... who?  Who was... right??  ACK!”  They grabbed their forehead, talons accidentally scratching the fuck out of their face in the rush.  “I-I... why do things keep.  Leaving me?”

They took a moment to calm, thinking about it- thinking about the trouble they were in; lost and alone with apparently only a locked computer for company.  “Please, I... don’t want to forget her.  I just want to... know...” The pain in their head subsided as the thing in their chest thrummed violently.  “Who was she to me again??”  They had to remember, feelings of both nostalgia and love rushed over them, followed by a single, near debilitating shudder of regret and the gut-wrenching feeling of failure.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t enough... I couldn’t be there for you all...’

Quizz gasped loudly.  “I... someone said I get into trouble... it was familiar, but not angry.  Exasperated... and then I... I left them.  How did I leave?”  Their heard vibrated strangely again.  “I don’t think I left them willingly.  But who were... they?”

A happy, yet tired family sits at a table.  A single chair remains empty yet another day; a small plate covered in frogs sits on a placemat in front of it.  There’s three other people, smiling yet tired.  Pizza steams fresh in the center with two figures talking excitedly about something else.  They’re all smaller besides one more in focus than the others.  They look... older?  The image clears a bit more and reveals a stout woman with slightly greying hair and blank eyes...

Something clicks into place.

"Mom!!!  I remember mom- I think... but who are the others?  Kids, at least maybe?  Ah, what was her name- I can... Her favorite color was peach!!”  They readied themself for pain again, but none came.  “ Ah, so the initial memory sucks when I remember it!!  Noted!  Thanks brain, I hate it!!!”  They tapped their forehead and stood in front of the desk, arms crossed.  “Now, brain, my dear friend- can please you do me a favor and, oh... I don’t know... fuckin’ LET ME UNLOCK THIS FUCKIN’ DESKTOP?? Please???”

The monitor snickered softly at them again after a moment of absolute silence.

“ALRIGHT SMARTASS!!!”  Quizz slammed their fist hard on the keyboard, hearing something click softly underneath.  “There’s literally no need to get sassy with me!  So what do you say, help me out here, bud?  Please???”  They pleaded with the computer, but got a loud raspberry in return.  “Cool.  Just fuckin’ great.”  Another smack to the keyboard made something inside the desk click again, the sound of some sort of mechanism unwinding.  After a moment, a drawer (one he was SURE was locked) glided open gracefully.

Quizz perked up, ignoring the fact they were about ten seconds from slashing the monitor in half with their new claws.  “Alright!  Now that’s the shit I’m talkin’ about!  That’s the shit I’m fuckin’ about!!!”  They turned and saluted the blank space surrounding him.  “Thanks, weird void room.  Thanks weird asshole computer!!  I totally appreciate the help you gave me!!” 

‘Ah, sarcasm.  Never fails to lighten the mood.’

With nimble fingers the amnesiac started shuffling through the drawer.  It had several very... interesting items inside- weirdly shaped pens, a neat collapsable cane he was gonna inspect later, but the best of all was a pair of dope-ass red shades that they absolutely donned immediately- a feeling of pride and rightness filling them as they put them on.

They made it to the bottom of the drawer when their chest thrummed violently.  A lone binder, locked tightly, sat at the bottom.  They grasped their chest with one hand and the book with the other, admiring the intricate silver swirls and black glittering stars covering it.  Quizz placed it on the desk, noticing a small, strangely glittering key hanging off of a chain attached to it.

The room seemed to whisper directly into his mind.

‘Open it.  Inside.  Open... learn about... read... learn...’

With a shaking hand, they unlocked it and read.

They read.

And read.

Memories coming to the forefront and fading away just as soon.  Their eyes scanned words that would pixelate and blur as soon as they glanced at them.  Names and places, numbers and facts- blurred away from his sight.  

‘No.  This is not how it should be.’

A growl bubbled up in his chest as he kept reading.  Names were all universally destroyed, photos for the most part blurred out.  But categories- favorite places and things... birthdays and personality types- all of those were categorized neatly and nicely.  

Some pages had just a few, and those names were less obscured- some even with profile pictures fully visible.

Those pages made his chest rumble happily.  He couldn’t understand why.

But there were three specific pages that stood out.  Just looking at them... it made his blood itch, his chest scream in longing.

He needed to finish them.  If he didn’t... he didn’t know what he would do.  

He poured over the pages over and over and over again.

They all had information filled for the most part, more categories were finished than any other page had been, but things like the person’s name and appearance, as well as the photos were unhelpfully blurred out.

They snarled at the thought of not knowing what it meant.  

“Can’t make anything easy for me, huh?”

One was a page that was rather childish.  Observations were written but he could barely understand them- the letters scrambling before his eyes.  But he noticed something- it seemed the entry was cut short; the only clear thing besides crayon drawings of frogs said ‘entry cut short, just like their time with us.’

The second page was filled with pressed flowers- all different types of lilies and snapdragons.  Everything was written with a glittery peach gel pen.  They ran a claw over the script and felt a tear fall from their eyes.  The writing made them feel something deep and painful- the same pain they’d felt a short while ago.

Their eyes scanned the page, noticing a single clear data entry.

Favorite Color:  Peach

“This was... is this my mom?”

Upon saying that, the page become more readable- some smaller things filling out and the photo less ‘thumb over the camera’ and more ‘they moved while I took this’.

If this was information on people they knew then...

Quizz yelled as their chest spiked in pain, something overcoming their willpower.

If this book was filled with things about the people they loved, then they will... they are going to... uncover all of it- collect all the information and find them.  They’ll collect everyone interesting they meet- ask them... get answers, know things, know all things to... to - 

Protect.

Love.

Learn.

Know. Know them.

After feeling cold pins and needles consume their form, Quizz flipped back to the third and last page that had gathered their interest. 

The very first page in the book.

Their claw ran over the scrawling handwriting- admiring how the writer crossed their sevens with lines, how they looped their letters and underlined things for emphasis.  They felt nostalgic and hollow.

This page had every single category filled, but the descriptions were blackened out; like they’d spilled ink all over the page.  They looked it up and down but couldn’t find a single clue about who page one would have been.

With a sigh they grinned and noticed something peculiar on the inner cover- right next to the bio.  There was a single note, a single clue.

Password:  Page 5′s best friend.

Now that... that tickled Quizz’s fancy.  Page 5... that would be the childish froggie page?  Yes it was.  

Quizz felt the buzzing in their chest become steady, violent yet subdued.  It was telling them this was the right direction- that attaining that information would fill a hunger they didn’t know they had.

Interesting, this was going to just be... delightful.

[egcdeath]

golden girl

summary: if only paradise could last forever. (read here on ao3!)

word count: 1.3k

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: fluff, angst, sad ending

author’s note: this is my first fic ever, and it’s based off the song “golden girl” by frank ocean. just a heads up, this isn’t really in chronological order, so sorry if it’s hard to follow at times! enjoy :-)

She peels an orange

For us in the morning

She woke me up to give me half

You stood in the kitchen with a sharp paring knife in hand, delicately pulling back the skin of a fragrant orange as you prepared the last of a small breakfast. You set the skinned citrus on a platter next to a bagel, and a few lost pieces of bacon among eggs. You hoisted up the platter then shuffled into the room that you’d shared the night prior. Settling down next to him on the bed, you used your thumb to brush a stray hair of his tired face, and admired his worn, yet peaceful resting appearance. Drawing your thumb down to his lip, then to his chin, she rubbed his stubble. Sensing that he was beginning to wake, you pulled her hand away.

“Hey sleepyhead,” you playfully chided.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve chimed back, “this for me?” He asked, slurring together a few of the syllables. You responded contently with a nod, and he reached out to grab a slice of orange. “You’re too good to me.”

I can hear the children soccer ballin'

Like wildcats running on the grass, hey

You're a girl on this island

I'm a boy from America

The pair trudged through the busy street, hands brushing against each other every so often. Just a few hours prior, you’d picked him up from the local airport to be his guide while he stayed during his vacation. Now, she pointed out a few of her favorite sights on their way to the AirBNB he would be staying at. As they approached the rental, they passed some children prancing on a soccer field as they played.

“An island favorite,” she informed him. “You play any?”

“I mean… Not particularly.” Steve chuckled uncomfortably, trying to become a bit more aquatinted with someone he was going to be spending a decent amount of time with during his trip.

“I’ll show you!” You responded before outright grabbing his hand, and dragging him onto a patch of empty grass, picking up a makeshift ball on your way. Steve wondered to himself what he’d gotten into, while you simply hoped that you were making a good impression on someone who had saved the world countless times.

Making your way onto the grass, the two of you passed the ball back and forth, and surprisingly, he lost by a landslide. But it felt good. Natural. Steve was unwinding already, and that was exactly what he needed on this vacation. A good escape from such a fast-paced and stressful life.

My flight leaves tonight, but I don't think I'm going backwards

I won't be going backwards

Steve looked deep into your eyes, seemingly searching for something, anything. An answer to the inevitable dilemma he was facing. He needed to be back home. Work as an Avenger called him. He had missions and people who wanted to see him back in the tower. His flight was in 8 hours, but who was counting? He reached out a calloused hand to grip onto her soft arm.

“I’m changing my flight,” He said hesitantly, more of a question than statement.

“Really?” You responded quietly, receiving a nod in return. You pulled herself closer to him, and peppered his face in a shower of kisses. “Good. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You whispered before burying your face in his chest and breathing in the musky scent of your lover, and basking in the sense of relief, knowing that you would have at least a bit more time with the man you'd quickly fallen for.

You're my golden girl

You're the one I've chosen, girl

You're 24k

You make it bright when it's grey

You two were hiking through dense, misty forest in the early morning when something finally occurred to Steve. You were rambling on about some band you thought he might like, passion latching onto every word you uttered, and a twinkle in your eye. His first thought was fleeting. She was the one. What? He then thought to himself. You’d only spent a few days together, but there was undeniably something there. There was tension in the way you looked at each other, domesticity in the empty time you spent together, and comfort in the way they confided in each other. Every minute he spent with you just felt so good. It all seemed so… right.

Silent moments, meditative poses

You break my focus, you make me laugh

You met Steve at his rented home at the crack of dawn on the third day of his trip to do some yoga- he’d insisted after he found out that you occasionally taught a yoga class or two to groups of tourists. Walking out to his temporary backyard, you two set out on your stretchy adventure.

You'd both anticipated a more relaxing morning, but found yourselves giggling between crow and camel poses, and ultimately extended you morning routine to a time much later than necessary. You couldn’t believe just how much of an impact he’d had on her life already. At first, you'd expected Steve to be another boring, uptight, and plain (yet attractive) tourist, but you quickly realized that he was different. Steve's comforting presence, his sweet words, and the way he always seemed to know what you were thinking. But the thought of being together was crazy and farfetched, he lived in New York. He was an Avenger, for God's sake! How could you ever end up with that? If you weren’t careful, you might just end up falling for someone who you had no chance of ever being with.

I'm my best on this island

I'm a mess in America

The first official date you two went on began on the patio of a local restaurant on the beach, and ended up in the bed of the slightly lived-in bedroom of Steve. You weren't sure how things escalated so fast. One moment, you two were eating appetizers, and looking deep into each others eyes, and the next you were being frantically kissed against the wall of the rental home, both of your brains clouded with a haze of passion and lust.

As you laid in bed together, breathing in each others’ scent, you began to think of what the next week ensued for you, and specifically, how things would change once Steve had to leave once again, and protect a hurting world.

“You know, I’m at my best here,” he told you genuinely. You smiled wordlessly back at him, and gave him a soft kiss in return, now attempting to abandon those thoughts.

I'mma stay right here, with you

Til the hurricane comes, 'til the tsunami comes, I've found my gold

Steve's rescheduled flight was taking off in 16 hours, 43 minutes and 27 seconds. Yet every millisecond felt like a lifetime. Steve swore he couldn’t leave without you. You’d become his world in just two weeks. The two of you laid together in his soft bed nude, and an uncomfortable silence filled the room with thick tension. Neither of you wanted this, or even knew how to face the inevitable. Steve couldn’t avoid his life back home forever. There seemed to be one simple answer that seemed quite obvious to him.

“Come with me.” Steve whispered, breaking the silence, yet making the returning silence that you returned even more painful. Even in the dark, he swore he could see your doe eyes well up, then release a single tear.

As he stared out the airplane window, he slowly brought himself back to reality. Back to the soft hum of the plane, the twinkling sound of the machine reminding folks to put back on their seatbelt, the faint noise of a child crying and the forgotten audio of a movie playing quietly in his headphones. Soon he would have to face the bustling life of the city again. The stress of work was calling him back once more. He attempted to blink a way a hot tear as he allowed himself one final thought,

Nothing good lasts forever.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling at the Seams Pt 26

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC Warnings: Language, Sexual Innuendo, Possible NSFW Rating: M Length: Multi Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: this is, sadly, the last part to this story. Thank you all for reading, liking, and commenting. I can’t explain how much that means to me. I loved writing this and I am sad to see it end. But! There are some potential tie ins to come ;) 

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header

Catch Up Here

Back in London for the summer, possibly the rest of the year, except for a few press tours and maybe a small vacation made things a little more relaxed and definitely content. Filming for The Witcher had wrapped in May, a bittersweet moment. Although there was a confidence that Netflix would order a second season, they'd be crazy not to. In the mean time Henry had taken a role for a film centering around the famed Holmes Family. Portraying Sherlock in a story about the great detective's younger sister Enola.

Period costumes were always a treat, despite having a fraction of the control that she did with Geralt; Nell was holding it together. She'd come to like being in charge, who knew it was where she truly shined? Working with Henry was fantastic, as well, they had an excellent team surrounding them and work never felt like work.

Ivan had accompanied his parents almost daily, hanging out with his mother in the costume department, while Henry was on set. The odd day he would ask to stay home, though it was rare he wasn't milling around watching or blushing like a tomato when a certain young lady spoke to him. Poor kid, he had inherited Henry's bashfulness when it came to women.

A rare day off between press and filming, called for one thing and one thing only. Sleeping in.

Nothing short of an Earth Shattering disaster was pulling Henry from his bed before 10am. Ivan had been under strict instructions that if he woke first, take Kal out, then go watch tv or read a book. There were things he could eat without using a stove, he'd be fine on his own for a few hours. If the house was in danger, come wake an adult.

Snuggling into Henry's back Nell sighed and yawned. She'd spent nearly the entire night with her face squashed into his shoulder blades, too comfortable to move. Fighting her eyes to stay closed, she whimpered, it was too early to be awake. The sun was gently streaming through the crack in the dark curtains, wretched thing, casting a light across the room. Scrunching her eyes shut, she wrinkled her nose.

“Too early,” Henry whispered, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep. “Back to sleep, my darling.”

“I'm trying.” Nell groaned, kissing his shoulder. “What time is it?”

“9:45,” Reading the clock beside his head, Henry groaned and rolled slightly not wanting to crush Nell behind him. He'd grown nearly three sizes since last summer, a wall of solid muscle, if he got any bigger Nell would be sleeping on the couch because the bed was only so big.

“Close enough,” She scooted back, her head resting on the soft pillow. Gently pushing a stray curl away from Henry's eyes, she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “I don't hear the wild boy and the bear, they must still be in bed.”

“Even if they're up, I locked the door last night.” Henry winked, a lazy smile on his face. Door locks for the bedroom were a fantastic invention, whoever came up with that idea had clearly been a parent. “They can knock and shout, if they need us.”

“You're learning, I like it.” Nell giggled, stretching her arms over her head. Groaning at the feeling of muscles releasing throughout her body. The air in the room slightly cool on her naked skin. “Do we have to get out of bed, yet?”

“Never,” Shaking his head, Henry wasn't ready to climb out of their little bubble yet. “I say we stay here forever.”

“Good, I will take that offer.” Placing a kiss on his soft lips, she smiled. Kissing him again, she wrapped her arm around his neck drawing him in. “I could do that forever, my love.” Gently playing with the mess of curls, Nell sighed feeling Henry's breath on her neck and shoulder.

“I could let you do that forever,” Henry grinned, giving her another kiss. His arms tightening around her back, holding her against him. She fit perfectly against his frame, a tiny detail that he loved.

Laying in bed, Henry smiled lazily, everything about her was perfect. God he loved this woman. Everything about her made his heart swell and – he groaned, at the phone buzzing on the stand beside him. It was a day off. No phones before noon.

“Go ahead.” Nell encouraged, pulling the sheet up around her. “It could be important.”

Reaching for the phone, Henry frowned seeing the text. The name on the screen sent his heart racing, his mouth dry, and his palms sweaty. Reading the text, he felt the tension and fear melt. To think he'd almost missed this good news. Quickly replying, he continued to smile.

“That was Donna.” Henry beamed placing his phone back on the stand. “We have the house.”

“What?”

Not even a month ago they had agreed that London was lovely, but what they really needed was a place to unwind. A permanent residence where Ivan and Kal could run wild and not worry about neighbours or limited space. Somewhere with room inside and out. They'd found a charming farm house, enough room for an office, a spare bedroom, and of course a game room. The gardens were maintained and unlike any garden Nell had seen before – she was ready to offer listing price on the spot, until logic set in.

Ivan and Kal had gone along to see the potential new dwelling the last time Henry and Nell had gone, both of them had seemed happy enough with the choice. Ivan had been talking for weeks, about the things he could do in a place like that. There had been four potential places and the third one had been it. The second they had walked in, they'd fell in love.

They would keep the current house, allowing them to be in London whenever they pleased, as Nell had made the official decision to keep and continue renting out her house.

“We have a few things to tie up, before we can move in of course, but we now own a country home.” Henry repeated the news. “We'll have to set up a date to go and finalize things, but it's been agreed upon.”

“This is fantastic! Oh, our first party can be an engagement party.” Nell beamed, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“You're serious about that?” Cautiously Henry tip toed around the words. In the past such a notion would have left him brokenhearted.

“I wouldn't have asked you to marry me, if I wasn't.” Nell smirked.

“The phrase we should get married, while catching up on Younger isn't exactly asking me to marry you.” Henry rolled his eyes, Nell stuck out her tongue. “Although, I didn't say no. So...”

It was a spur of the moment. In the moment and now, the morning after, it felt right. She had casually thrown out the idea, ignoring Liza and Kelsey having their millionth catastrophe, grabbing Henry's attention enough that he had reacted with a laugh. When he'd asked if she were serious, Nell had shrugged and told him that it certainly wasn't a joke.

Why shouldn't they get married?

If he declined, she would understand, so long as they agreed to remain together. You didn't need a piece of paper and some rings to prove you loved somebody, but it would still be nice. In an old fashioned way.

“So? I am assuming that means yes. Yes, you will marry me.” Giggling, Nell leaned into him, her fingers dancing across his chest. Small wisps of hair tickling under her fingers. “Do you not want to marry me?”

“I never said that,” Henry shook his head, watching her through hooded eyes. “I would thoroughly enjoy marrying you.”

“Good, because I think I would enjoy it, too.”

“You really want to get married?” Extending his arm, inviting Nell to snuggle in, Henry kissed the top of her head when she laid against his shoulder.

“I do. But, we don't have to discuss this right now. I know it's probably not how you imagined the proposal going, I need to work on timing.” She shrugged tilting her head to look at him. “Henry William Dalgliesh Cav-...”

A banging on the door, as the knob rattled, caused Nell to pause. Damn it. Henry laughed, his body shook and he did little to hide his amusement despite Nell's annoyance.

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan called from the other side of the door. “Dad? Dad!”

“What?” Henry called back, shaking his head at their son.

“Kal and I were wondering when we could go to the park?”

“After lunch.” Nell called through the door. Nudging Henry, she gestured to the door. “Why not let them in, if not he's going to stand out there and yell.”

“Fine, but only because it's after 10.” Henry kissed the top of her head, stretching and getting out of bed. Nell watched him pull on a pair of shorts, every muscle in his body moving in unison. Unlocking the door, he stood with it open a crack, looking into the hall at Ivan and Kal. Watching him intently, Kal yipped and Ivan narrowed his gaze. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“I'm hungry. I've already had a bowl of cereal, but I want something else. Kal ate, but I think he's hungry too. Are you going to stay in bed all day?”

“If we do?”

“I'm going to call Granny and tell her. It's late and you should be up, be productive and not a lazy bones.” Ivan chastised.

Behind the door Nell laughed. Tying her dressing gown, she shook her head, watching Henry deal with the lecture. Resting her head against Henry's back, she peek around him to see Ivan and Kal in the hall.

“Mum, stop kissing dad and come make my something to eat. I'm starving.”

“I doubt you are starving, wild boy, besides you were told that we were sleeping in. It's not like we ever get to do it.” Nell rolled her eyes.

“Run along downstairs, well be down in a moment.”  Leaving Ivan and Kal with their instructions, Henry gently shut the door on the pair. Parental life had given Henry a new appreciation for Nell and all that she'd done over the years and was continuing to do.

Dressing gown on the end of the bed, Nell traded it in for her favourite shorts and a well loved tshirt. Ready to semi face the day, she ran her fingers through her hair and watched Henry with amusement.

“Are you sure this is what you want? A lifetime of demands and dictatorship?” Nell teased, rubbing Henry's arm.

“We're in it now. May as well stick around, see how it all plays out.” He kissed her forehead, wrapping his arm around her in a gentle squeeze. “Besides, he'll be gone soon. Only a few more years and we can overthrow him.”

“Ah, yes.” Nell nodded in playful agreement. “I forgot, boarding school. You know, you English may be on to something with that.”

“We're smarter than the average bear.” Henry shrugged. “In the meantime, shall we go feed the beasts? Take them to the park and then tell them our good news?”

“Lovely idea, shall we?”  

To think merely a year ago, they were living separate lives. Had someone told Henry, when he'd arrived in Dublin to visit Ivan, they would be talking about marriage and buying a quaint place in the country – he would have laughed in their face. Nell sighed, rubbing her eyes, feet hitting the last step. Surveying the house, she was satisfied that Ivan and Kal hadn't made too much of a mess. Eventually they would have more space, allowing them to run wild whenever they felt the need.

“What's on your mind?” Henry rested his chin on the top of her head, bumping into her as she'd stopped.

“How fortunate we are. It's silly, but I'm glad that you came to visit the wild boy last summer.” She shrugged, waiting for Ivan to realize his parents were downstairs. “Had he came here...”

“You would have been learning to speak Danish?” Henry laughed lightly, wincing when Nell turned and smacked him in the chest. A little harder than she'd intended.

“Alex is a sweet guy, I won't deny that.” Through the grape vine and instagram, she knew that he'd been seeing someone and was insanely happy. She didn't wish him ill, in fact quite the opposite. Alex was a fantastic person, who deserved everything good in life.  “But, I'm not sorry things worked the way they did.” Nell shrugged, gently rubbing the spot she'd smacked. “I am sorry it took me so fucking long.”

“Hey, no.” Shaking his head, Henry lifted her hands in his. Kissing the back of her hands, he smiled. “It doesn't matter, because that was then. This is now. From now on, we go forward.”

“I like that,” melting into his smile, Nell felt the warmth rising in her cheeks. “From now on...”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Cutting in, Ivan slowly drug his feet across the floor, a frown on his face while he rubbed his belly. “I'm hungry. Can you make pancakes?”

“Can you stop and let your father and I speak, for two seconds?”

“You weren't talking, you were probably kissing again.” He made a disgusted face, stalking off to the kitchen.

Since his mother had moved in full time, the only thing his parents wanted to do was kiss, and whisper things that made each other laugh. Rolling his eyes, Ivan called for Kal, at least he still had one buddy. Adults.

“Shall we feed them, before he decides to call in reinforcement?” Henry chuckled, taking Nell's hand and walking to the kitchen.

“I'm not scared of your mother.” Nell laughed, nudging Henry with her hip.

“Really? I am.” Barking a laugh, Henry snorted. “You're a brave lady, Janelle Stewart.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely, the bravest. Even better is that you're my brave lady.”

“Okay, alright. I see where this is going. Grab me a bowl, you can flirt with me later.” She winked, going through the cupboard to find the ingredients for Ivan's pancakes. “And go put on a shirt, if you're going to help me cook. Otherwise I get distracted.”

Teasingly mocking her, Henry handed over the ceramic bowl, placing a kiss on her cheek before disappearing to find the required shirt. On his way to find the rest of his clothing, he was temporarily distracted by Ivan and Kal. Watching from around the corner, Nell shook her head and laughed, Ivan was standing on the arm of the couch climbing onto Henry's back. Chattering about his morning with Kal and the things they did, before waking his parents.

Chaos was a constant, though Nell didn't mind. It was what made life interesting, the laughter and shouting would likely piss off a neighbour or two, though Henry didn't seem to care and Ivan had no care in the world. Kal jumped at Henry's feet, yipping, and wagging his tail as he tried to rescue Ivan from his piggy back. Sneaking a photo or two, Nell watched father and son continue on with whatever game they were playing.

This would be one of the personal moments that, eventually, Henry would decide to share with the world. Nell couldn't blame him, Ivan was rather personable and he seemed to enjoy the attention. Who knew Ivan would  soak in the spot light so easily?

“Mum!” Ivan called between his fit of laughter. “Momma, I need help. Mum!”

“I'm coming, I'm coming.” Nell laughed, taking her time to saunter to the rescue. “What's going on in here, hmm?”

“I am trying to train this dragon, but he's too strong.”

“You attacked me, I am simply trying to fight off the troll.” Henry spoke with the most deadpan expression Nell had ever saw.  Raising his brow, he smirked backing up to the couch, Ivan taken off guard yelped when Henry shrugged hard dropping him on the cushions.

“Bad dragon!” Ivan wheezed laughing, trying to avoid Kal who was instantly there to lick his face and make sure he was okay. “Kal! No! Kal!”

“Right, now that I have defeated the Troll King and fed him to my furry beast, shall I grab the queen and we escape?” holding out his hand to Nell, winking, Henry glanced at Ivan still trying to assure Kal that he was fine.

“Is this the part where the queen kisses the dragon, releasing some sort of terrible curse, revealing that he was a handsome knight all along?”

Henry nodded, comically puckering his lips. “It is.”

“Ah!”

“No! No more kissing! You two are disgusting! No, mum stop. Dad, please.” Ivan pretended to gag for the millionth time this morning. Adults were so gross.

“Tis but a peck,” Henry declared.

Nell laughed. “Alright, serious now. Why don't you two get dressed, I will make breakfast, and then we can go out for the rest of the morning.”

“Fine, but no more kissing.” Ivan grumbled, allowing Henry to help him off the couch. Kal on their heels, Ivan asked his father if he wanted to race to the top of the stairs. Thundering up the stairs, Nell watched the two of them disappear at the top. Shouts and laughter trickling back down to meet her.

For a few seconds, Nell stood listening to Henry, Ivan, and Kal playing upstairs. Running around, shouting, and not at all doing what she'd asked. Not that it mattered. They were happy, all of them. Listening to Henry charge across the hall, Nell laughed when Ivan screeched like some sort of mythical creature, causing Kal to bark loudly.

The four of them, taking on the world, conquering whatever came along. Mythical or real. This was life now, this is what it should have been all along. Nell sighed, only forward from now on. She liked that. The past was that, left behind to be a memory all while new ones were made. Over head, Ivan's feet passed, he was running to his parents' bedroom. Kal was behind him, the big dog as excited as the boy he chased.

Henry had a way of instigating the two of them, riling them up, and taking great pleasure in the screaming and shouting that followed in the games they played. Nell smiled to herself, carefully measuring out the flour of Ivan's pancakes.

These mornings were the greatest. Hell, her life was the greatest.

This is how it was supposed to be.

@shannygoatgruff  @funmadnessandbadassvikings @kawennote09 @smutgoblin  @nickysurfer28  @peaceisadirtyword @igetcarriedawaywithyou @lif3snotouttogetyou @akamaiden @angelaiswriting @neeadinghugs @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @ilvebeenabad @naaladareia @imgoldielikehawn @tephi101 @sdcyumyum @unacceptabletatertots @titty-teetee @smolasianwinterbean  @capitanostella  @captstefanbrandt @bloodyivar   @normanallthewayforever   @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme  @imyourliquor-youremypoison @nikky-the-writer   @seremedyxiii @laketaj24  @deleteidentity @tornupandbored  @hoeghfabulous @ateliefloresdaprimavera @mydarlingwhim   @kenzieam @angelswannawearmyredshooz  @manuugxlvis   @lostinmythoughs  @ivars-snowflake   @lisinfleur   @fumblingthroughchaos @pebblesz892 @nothingeverdies @bluearchersstuff  @itsspecial-itsnotforeveryone  @ivarlothbroks  @badassbaker @cris101071 @fucktrucks @ohjules @mrsadrianraines @angelic-kisses13 @lol-haha-joke @marthasantos95 @hows-my-hair @omgshuddupmeg @moviegirl50 @havenoffandoms @gearhead66 @happydaysandersen @rekdreams-fandom @lovemylife2618 @supernaturalvikingwhore @heavenly1927 @zoe-rachel-crisp @blogandreea11 @shileen91 @geekandbooknerd  @mzliterarydreamer @youbloodymadgenius @carlya65 @sawendel @magic-and-the-macabre @artemiseamoon  @vicmackeybullshxt @flowerthug @henchry @littlefreya @mitzwinchester @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @h-e-a-v-y-l-e-a-t-h-e-r @dogshemp @mytbel0st @peakygroupie @magdelen69 @s-ravenall  @viking-raider @sciapod @intototaloblivion @hcfavoritegal @didiintheblog @daniig95 @badwolf-in-the-impala @mariahill2001 @charlieferret @michelle-1185 @henryfanfics101 @agniavateira @oqueequesentes-borboletas @mis-lil-red @lebguardians @cherrybloomn @omgkatinka @tsukuyomi011  @kaitieskidmore1  @anndreaae @dearlybelovedluke @p3nny4urth0ught5 @tinychemicals @mary-ann84 @townmoondaltwistle @buckysgoldenheart @thethirstyarchive @meowpurrbooks  @hell1129-blog @nuns-and-roses @vikingsbifrost @comboboo @onlyhenrys @obsessedwithcavill @evnscvll @newfanhasenteredthechat @leilabeaux @speakerforthedead0​ @marswritings

- if you want to be added? removed, please let me know

(sorry if this hasn’t been tagging people. IDK what is up but tumblr is a prick, It’s telling me you are all tagged, but then shows the links didn’t work, but shows they did ugh)

[noona-clock]

A Familiar Face ✨🏰 - Part 3

Genre: Harry Potter!AU

Pairing: Eric Nam x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4 | Words: 2,888

You had told Eric that the beginning of the school year was always the hardest, and that was incredibly true.

Professors and students alike were busy preparing for lessons, doing and grading assignments, getting used to new schedules. So much went on, and it truly seemed like there was barely a minute of downtime.

Naturally, this meant the beginning of the school year also went by in the blink of an eye. Or the flick of a wand, if you want to be more appropriate.

After that first week, both you and Eric got caught up (and, frankly, overwhelmed) with work... but you still managed to see him every day without fail. In fact, your daily lunch breaks in your classroom were what kept you sane, and he felt exactly the same way -- he’d told you so on multiple occasions.

The two of you had also managed to spend many a night up in the astronomy tower or, if the weather dictated it, in the Room of Requirement with your trusty Astrellus Lumos charm.

Unsurprisingly, you had become pretty close friends. The intimacy of stargazing had led you both to some pretty deep conversations, and after two and a half months, you were fairly certain he knew everything there was to know about you.

Well. Except for the fact you’d harbored a crush on him for seven years. And still did even now.

But that wasn’t something he needed to know because it had been two and a half months, and there hadn’t been one single moment where you’d wondered if maybe he felt something more. Not one. Not even half of a moment.

So, apparently, that would be a secret you took with you to your grave.

But it was now another Friday afternoon, and you realized things had been slowing down over the past week or so. Or maybe you were just getting into the swing of things so being busy simply felt normal. Either way, you still felt like welcoming the weekend with open arms.

“Happy Friday!” Eric greeted when he appeared in your classroom doorway for lunch.

Without missing a beat, you waved your wand, summoning two plates of food and the chair from Eric’s classroom. You then lifted your head and grinned at him, trying to ignore the thumping in your heart (as you always did). “Happy Friday,” you replied. “This week went by quite quickly, didn’t it?”

“The past couple of months have gone by quickly,” Eric chuckled as he arrived at your desk and pulled out his chair to sit down.

“This is true,” you agreed with a laugh. “I can’t believe it’s already November.”

“It seems like just yesterday we had the Welcoming Feast, and now it’s the first Hogsmeade visit.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, your eyes wide with surprise. “Is it really?”

Eric had just taken a bite of his shepherd’s pie, so he nodded instead of answering verbally.

“Wow,” you marveled softly. “I can’t believe it’s already that time of year.”

After a few moments, Eric looked up at you and asked, “Are you going?”

“To Hogsmeade?”

“Yes, to Hogsmeade,” he chuckled, his lips forming into a playful smirk.

“I didn’t plan to...” you told him. “But, then again, I didn’t know about it.”

“You should come,” he said casually.

...He said that like he wanted you to join. Come with him.

“Are... you going?” you asked, mentally kicking yourself because you hadn’t been able to keep the timidity out of your voice.

Eric nodded, humming positively as he continued to eat his lunch.

Okay, you knew he hadn’t just asked you to go with him, but --

“Yeah, come with me,” he said, interrupting your thoughts. “I kind of just assumed you were going, so I was planning on asking you to be my Hogsmeade buddy anyway.”

Even though you were mentally freaking out because he had, in fact, asked you to go with him, you still laughed softly at his last words.

“We’re professors now,” you reminded him. “We don’t need Hogsmeade buddies anymore...”

A tiny, almost bashful smile appeared on Eric’s lips, and you could have sworn his cheeks were turning pink.

“You know what I mean,” he retorted.

It took you a few minutes to compose yourself, but you were finally able to muster up some normalcy to respond with, “Well, I won’t carry you home if you drink too many Butterbeers, if that’s what you mean.”

Eric burst out laughing, and your heart positively soared.

“I won’t, I promise,” he chuckled.

You ate the rest of your lunch with a smile on your lips, and when the warning on your clock sounded, Eric stood and waved his wand to clean up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” he asked before turning to leave. “I think McGonagall said the students should meet at the front entrance at 10.”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” you nodded, cleaning up your own meal, as well. “I bet Neville will be glad for the extra help. I don’t think he particularly likes having the Hogsmeade visit responsibility.”

“Who else would McGonagall pick, though?” 

“Exactly,” you shrugged. “I mean, he literally fought in the battle of Hogwarts... No one else could handle supervising all of those students.”

Eric smirked, and just before he spun around on his heel to head toward your classroom door... He winked at you.

Are we surprised that you were still thinking about that wink the next morning at 9:55am?

No?

No, I didn’t think so.

A rather large group of third-years and up had already gathered by the front entrance, and Professor Longbottom was checking to make sure they’d all turned in their permission slips. You had offered to help, of course, but he insisted there was no need. You were attending as more of a personal thing rather than a professional thing.

Eric arrived just before 10, and your heart honestly stopped beating for a second because he just looked so handsome and nice in his Autumn coat and scarf and not in his professor robes and just -- ugh.

And also because you were still thinking about the wink.

Your crush was getting bigger by the week, apparently.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, not wanting to draw too much attention to his arrival.

To absolutely no one’s shock and awe, Eric had quickly become one of the students’ favorite professors. When you had brought it up once, he’d tried to insist that you were also a student favorite, but you assured him your interactive history lessons were no match for his open, friendly demeanor... and incredibly good looks. But you didn’t include that last part.

Anyway.

If Eric had strolled on up to this large group of students, letting his presence be known, he surely would have been bombarded and Neville would have been none too pleased about it.

“Good morning,” you replied with a little grin, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “I already offered to help with the permission slips, but Neville insisted I stay out of it so I could enjoy my weekend.”

“Good for him,” Eric nodded. “I know it’s a school visit and everything, but I was going to try and not involve ourselves with the students as much as I possibly could.”

And there went your heart skipping a beat again. Because what Eric just said sounded awfully like he... wanted to spend time alone. With you.

I mean, the two of you did spend time alone together. Quite often, actually. Every weekend, and during lunch every weekday.

But, still.

This just seemed... different, somehow.

It probably wasn’t, but oh well. You’d already got it in your head that it was, so there was no turning back now.

Once the clock struck ten, Professor Longbottom announced that they would be leaving now. The students all began walking toward the train station, and when you started following them, Eric reached out and put a hand on your arm.

Oh, no. Was he about to ask you to stay behind so he could talk to you and confess that this was actually a date and he wanted to spend alone time with you because he viewed you as more than a friend now?

“Why don’t we just apparate?” he asked quietly, brow furrowed.

...Ah.

Yes.

That made a lot more sense.

“Oh, right,” you chuckled, shaking your head as if you hadn’t a clue where your sense had gone. “Of course.”

As the students and Neville started their journey to Hogsmeade on foot, you and Eric quickly apparated to the small village, both appearing in the middle of the village square.

Since the group from Hogwarts hadn’t arrived yet, the village was fairly empty, so the two of you had your choice of where to go and what to do.

“What would you like to do first?” Eric asked, looking around at the nearby shops. “Three broomsticks? Fancy a drink to help you unwind?”

A somewhat awkward smile crossed your lips, and you lifted your shoulders up toward your ears. “Actually... can we... go to Honeyduke’s instead?”

“Honeyduke’s?” 

Rather than drown your worries in alcohol, you were the type to drown them in sweets. You had quite a massive sweet tooth, and you much preferred the taste of chocolate frogs and lollipops to that of alcohol. Butterbeer was delicious, yes, but... so was candy.

“I just have a sweet tooth, and I really like sweets, but if you want --”

“Honeyduke’s it is,” Eric interrupted, obviously catching on that you now felt somewhat embarrassed for your more juvenile choice of destination. He grinned at you and held one arm out toward the candy store nearby, ushering you over there.

As soon as you walked into Honeyduke’s, a smile tugged at your lips. There was just something about candy stores which made you feel... I guess the best word to describe it was happy.

The smell of sugar and freshly baked goods and the beautiful pastel colors and candy as far as the eye can see.

Eric, being the perfect friend he was, followed you around, insisting you look at all the candy you wanted for as long as you wanted. You were scooping out some red licorice bites into a paper bag (after careful consideration of what you wanted) when the door opened and some students trickled in. 

Two sixth-year girls came in first, Cassandra and Phoebe -- two of your favorite students, actually. You knew you weren’t supposed to have favorites, but you did, anyway. They noticed you, of course, and you shot them a small smile in greeting. Eric followed suit, and almost immediately, the two girls hid behind their hands and giggled.

Eric didn’t seem to notice, though, and he suddenly reached out for your bag of candy.

“Wha --”

“I’ll be right back,” he announced quietly before turning and heading to the register.

Was he... buying your candy for you?

Your brow furrowed deeply, and when you turned back around to face the wall of candy, Cassandra and Phoebe had suddenly appeared next to you.

“Oh!” you breathed, startled by their presence. “Hello, girls.”

“Hi, Professor Y/L/N,” they greeted in unison. “We didn’t know you were coming to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Well, yes, I -- Professor Nam -- we wanted to spend some time outside of the castle.”

You had been about to say he had invited you, but that would surely give them the wrong idea.

Except... they had gotten the wrong idea anyway.

“Ooh,” Cassandra smirked, one eyebrow raised almost devilishly. “A date?”

“No, no, of course not,” you chuckled. “Just two friends and co-workers enjoying their weekend.”

Phoebe screwed up her face in thought and then shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, I think it’s a date.”

“It’s not --”

“He likes you, though,” Cassanded piped up.

“Oh, yes, he definitely likes you,” Phoebe agreed, nodding knowingly.

You really, really, really wished they hadn’t said that. Because you had already thought this in the back of your head, and hearing other people say it just made you think it was actually true. Could actually be true.

But you knew better.

There was no way someone like Eric Nam would ever have more than friendly feelings for someone like you. It just didn’t happen! You weren��t living in a fairy tale or a romantic movie where the quiet, nerdy heroine gets the cool, popular guy.

“He’s buying your candy,” Cassandra said, standing on her toes and peering over toward the register.

“I bet he’ll ask you to eat lunch with him,” Phoebe added.

“We eat lunch together every day,” you told them. “Him asking me that would signify nothing.”

“You eat lunch together every day?!” both of them squealed.

“Oh, hush, and go buy your favorite professor a chocolate frog,” you said, reaching out and pushing their shoulders away from you.

“Okay, Professor Y/L/N,” Phoebe giggled before adding, “But Professor Nam still likes you.”

You let out a half-amused, half-irritated sigh and shook your head at their sixteen-year-old antics.

“What’s so funny?” Eric’s voice suddenly popped up behind you, and you inhaled sharply, jumping and quickly turning around to face him.

“Oh -- nothing,” you said breathlessly. “Just -- you know how sixteen-year-olds are.”

“You know, being a professor now, I sometimes shudder thinking about what I put our professors through back then. I thought I was hot stuff, but I think I was just annoying.”

“You were not annoying,” you assured him with a chuckle. “Everyone liked you, even the professors.”

Eric scoffed playfully, finally remembering to hand you your bag of licorice bites. You took them gratefully and reached in immediately to pop one into your mouth. Eric reached in at the same time, his hand brushing against yours. He grinned when you felt his fingers knocking into yours, and he mischievously fought you for the piece of licorice you were currently trying to pick out.

“Hey!” you laughed.

“I bought them,” he reminded you, still attempting to knock your fingers out of the way.

“You offered to buy them,” you pointed out with the biggest, cheesiest grin on your face. “I didn’t ask you to. Stop!” 

Eric finally grabbed a piece, smiling triumphantly and wiggling his hand out. He threw it up slightly in the air and caught it in his mouth.

“I am not impressed with your candy-catching skills,” you sighed, hoping you would be able to keep up a serious facade.

Because, unsurprisingly, on the inside... you were jumping for joy.

You still weren’t going to entertain the idea that he liked you as more than a friend; Phoebe and Cassandra would not get in your head. But... still.

You were thoroughly enjoying this friendship, and nobody could take that away from you.

After exploring Honeydukes, you and Eric wandered around Hogsmeade until your stomachs began to grumble. You ate lunch at the Three Broomsticks, despite the fact it was filled with students, and then you decided to head back to the castle.

When you returned, you ran into the Ravenclaw quidditch team on their way in from practice.

“Oy, Professor Y/L/N!” the captain, Emmaline, called out to you.

“I think you should try that again,” Eric warned with raised eyebrows.

Emmaline pressed her lips together and looked incredibly put out when she said, “Hello, Professor Y/L/N,”

“Much better,” Eric nodded.

“Hello, Emmaline,” you greeted her with a chuckle. “How was practice?”

“It was perfect,” she nodded. “We’ll definitely beat Gryffindor this year. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. It’s why I said ‘Oy’...”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing, and then you motioned with your hand to urge Emmaline to go on.

“Headmistress McGonagall said she’s going to make an announcement at dinner tonight, but she wants to tell the staff beforehand. She said if I saw you I should tell you to go to the staffroom, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Emmaline, I very much appreciate the message,” you smiled.

“And what about me?” Eric asked.

“...What about you?” Emmaline retorted. And then she quickly added, “Sir?”

“You only called out Professor Y/L/N’s name... you weren’t going to tell me?”

“Well... I mean, you’re a Gryffindor, ain’t ya? Sir?”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, and you reached out to pat Emmaline on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Emmaline,” you repeated. “You guys go get something to eat.”

As the team headed off toward the school, you turned to Eric and furrowed your brow slightly. “I wonder what this announcement is.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Eric shrugged.

The two of you made your way into the castle and headed straight to the staffroom, your heart thumping just a little both from anticipation and from walking so quickly.

McGonagall was there, and when the two of you entered the staffroom, she lifted her hands and chirped, “Aha! There you are! Besides Longbottom, you are the last staff I need to tell.”

“Tell what?” you asked with wide eyes.

“Next month we will be having a Celestial Ball,” she explained. 

She kept speaking, but you honestly didn’t hear anything.

A ball. 

You’d always hated balls. They were a shy, quiet person’s worst nightmare.

You’d thought you were done with them, but... you’d thought wrong, apparently.

Part 4

[doginshoe]

What You’d Do To Me Tonight

summary: Lucy had been in a blooming high school romance, but now that the love has wilted between her and her husband, she searches for a solace. However, she finds it in an already broken man that manages to set her alight in more ways then one. When her secrets spill, she finds her world begins to crumble from beneath her feet as the two men in her life torture her already broken heart.

warnings/contains: mentions of smut & domestic violence

part 1 __

He thrusted into her one last time before coming undone, a moan leaving her lips as he roughly pulled himself out and rolled to the side of the bed. Their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

“You’re still on that pill, right?” Her partner asked and Lucy could only laugh as she kicked off the blankets, ready to stumble over to the bathroom to clean herself up.

“You ask that now?”

“Wait, I told you-”

“Natsu,” she sighed as she peered at him from over her shoulder, “Yes. I’m still on the pill.”

He grinned as he watched her stand and walk to the door leading into his small dingy bathroom, her backside still bright red from their earlier activities. “Thank god.”

Lucy gave a light chuckle as she turned on the shower head before grimacing at the sticky liquid between her thighs. It was only a quick rinse and by the time she came back, drying herself with one of the man’s few towels, Natsu was already settled on the side of the bed and liting up a cigarette from his nearly empty pack. He took a long drag before blowing the smoke from his lungs and then downing the remaining whiskey he couldn’t finish before they had started.

She rolled her eyes before grabbing her underwear having given up on lecturing him about his many bad habits. He would only scoff, not paying any mind to her words. As she pulled on her jeans he turned to her with a raised brow.

“Leaving already?”

It was like this a lot of the time. A quick visit after work to loosen up her tight muscles, forget about everything, and unwind then she would be off. It was never anything more between them and she was ok with that. Natsu had been clear that he didn’t need another woman in his life ‘bossing him around.’ The conversation about them being anything more was clipped and swept under the bed. She sent him a quick smile as she buttoned up her shirt and grabbed her bag.

“Yeah. I’ve got some things to do at home.”

He frowned and stood before she could make her move to the door, another cloud of smoke filling the air before he spoke. “You needa ride?”

Lucy dug into her bag and pulled out her keys. “I’m covered,” She grinned, “Beside’s I wouldn’t go near your death trap that you call transport.” Natsu snorted and she thought that would be the end of it but he seemed to have other ideas as he walked to his dresser.

“There’s nothing wrong with my bike. Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

“Your neighbours are going to have a heart attack if they see you walk out like that.” She gestured to his junk that was still out in the open for the world to see, but he only waved her away as he pulled in a breath from his cigarette and opened up his draws.

As he pulled out the smoke from in between his lips he grabbed for his loose jeans. “I’m not gonna give the old folks a heart attack, Smart ass. Just let me put these on,” he quipped as he stepped into the loose denim and lead her out the door.

“My, my you’re becoming quite the gentleman, Natsu Dragneel. To think I used to have to just dress myself and find my way to the door without an escort,” She said while forcing out a dramatic tone, a small smile pulling up on her lips. “Tragic.”

“Sometimes, Luce, I think all those books really do something funny to ya head.”

“I could say the same about that stick of cancer hanging out your mouth.”

“Hey!” He gave her a look as he opened up front door, “They don’t do anything to my head.”

Lucy stepped past him into the chilled air as she kept his gaze, spinning on her heel to face him. “Could’ve fooled me,” she answered, barely suppressing another laugh as he narrowed his eyes at her, trying to muster the scowl that sent men reeling, yet the tell tale sign of the twitch in his cheek gave him away. Natsu could never fool anyone.

“If you keep making that face it’ll get stuck!”

Natsu smirked, the facade dropping in an instance. “Tell me again, Luce. Are you sure you weren’t raised by old women?” His smile grew ten times as he spoke each word before he dropped his finished smoke to smother it into the ground.

Now was the time for her eyes to narrow as she slapped his shoulder. Natsu taking a step back and raising his hands to protect himself at her weak hit, his chuckle filling her ears. No matter what he always knew the ways to get under her skin and push her buttons. She always had to remind herself why she ever came and saw him, yet the answer was so sad that she could never dwell on it too long.

“My humour is just fine, thank you very much. Now if you excuse me I’ll be on my way,” she spoke before turning away, head tilted into the air. She didn’t get far before Natsu was pulling her back into his arms. She gasped as he grabbed her but settled into the warm embrace anyways as he held her.

“Drive safe,” he breathed as he placed a quick kiss to the side of her head that made Lucy’s cheeks warm. A soft smile made its way on her face as she enjoyed their contact. Sometimes, only sometimes, would Lucy revel in this feeling. It had been so long after all that she had a sweet touch, but she knew it would never work. She quickly pulled away, her fingers lingering on his as she turned back to him.

“I will.”

With that she let go and made her way to the car. As she pulled open the door and turned back to look up at his porch, he had already made his way inside and Lucy sighed as she climbed into the vehicle parked in their driveway. With a quick look to the time she cursed as she realised she was running late, her hands quickly turning the keys and putting her foot down to reverse out. He wasn’t going to be happy.

She tried her best to speed home. Yet, her shaking hands had the itch to turn around. Lucy could only hope he hadn’t been drinking again. He was worse when he was drinking. She gulped as she pulled into her own driveway. His car was already there, which she expected, but a small part of her hoped it wouldn’t. He had gone out to the pub, to the bookie, anything.

A defeated sigh left her lips as she turned off the car and grabbed her bag. She checked herself over in the mirror, peering at her neck especially. Natsu always had a habit of leaving unwanted marks even though she had told him that she didn’t like it. That had been a lie, but she couldn’t tell him the real reason - that she had another man to hide them from.

She shook her head to relieve herself of the guilt that had clung to her bones. Ever since the first night she had laid with Natsu, it had wound itself in her lungs and nearly suffocated her when she tried to sleep. He was just so addicting. The way he touched her, his delicate fingers, the way he made her laugh like there was nothing wrong in her life. With him she could forget and that was all she ever wanted. Lucy quickly rubbed at her eyes - It was something she could think about at another time. As she stepped out the car she forced her legs to move, but she had barely made it two steps before he opened the door.

“Where have you been?” He snapped, his dark eyes glaring at her as she made her way towards him.

Lucy held onto her bag a little tighter as she looked up at him, immediately bringing her gaze to the door behind him. “I was kept at work,” she mumbled, bringing her stare back to the man she had married.

“That’s the third time this week.”

Lucy shot him a filthy look before she pushed past him, whispering under her breath as she passed him, “That’s what happens when you have a job.”

As she made her way to the kitchen the front door slammed behind her and she froze. She didn’t want to turn around. If she ignored him he would leave her alone. If she made the excuse she was tired then she could stay in the room, pretend to sleep when he came up to bed. Nothing would happen tonight.

Many times Lucy was wrong.

“You stink of smoke.”

Lucy mentally cursed Natsu and his hotbox of a home. She should’ve sprayed herself with perfume before she got out of the car. The blonde dropped her bag on the kitchen counter as she wondered to the fridge, hoping to cut off the conversation as soon as possible.

“Did you hear me?” He called, voice getting louder as he stepped closer to her. “I’m talking to you.”

“It must have been from someone who I was talking to after-”

She could barely finish her sentence as he grabbed ahold of her hair, pulling at the long tresses and forcing her to face him. His eyes were alight with anger as he put his face in front of hers. Lucy swallowed.

“Who?” he spat.

“It was just a quick conversation, I swear!” she raised her hands to his as tears gathered in her eyes. “Please stop. It hurts, Jackal.” She tried to pry his hold on her hair but when he dropped his grasp a slap followed his movements.

Her head snapped to the side, the sting tingling her face but she refused to look at him, or let the tears fall down her cheeks. He grabbed onto her arm, squeezing it until the hold turned bruising.

“You’re an ugly slut,” he seethed as he pushed himself into her face, the smell of alcohol on his breath burning in her nose. “You hear me? Don’t you ever think you can lie to me!”

Lucy’s lower lip trembled as he shouted in her ear, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arm. She didn’t dare speak, not that the lump in her throat would ever allow anything but sobs and screams to leave her lips. It would only make him angrier if she spoke. She had learned that the hard way when he had first hit her. They were barely twenty years old and having a stupid argument. When Lucy yelled at him, her anger getting the better of her, he had thrown a frying pan at her head. The cooking utensil barely missing her by an inch as it slammed against the wall. She had screamed at him, nearly packing her things but he had stopped her. His hand around her throat before pushing her into a side table and knocking her mother's favourite vase to the floor - one of the few things she had left of her smashing on impact and cutting Lucy’s hands.

She had kept quiet for the next five years.

He grabbed her face, violently turning it to so her brown eyes could gaze at the man she thought she loved. His eyes were blazing as he growled at her, “I know what you’re up to,” he spat in her face as he pushed her backwards. Her body slamming into the fridge as a choked sob left her lips. “You better be home tomorrow.”

Lucy could only nod meekly as she pushed herself up and wiped the spit from her cheek. He walked away from her, grabbing a half finished beer bottle from the table and walking to the living room. She wasted no time in running up the stairs to their bedroom and locking the door behind her.

The tears trickled down her face as she sunk to the floor. Her cheek where he had slapped her was still red, the skin sensitive and hot. She desperately rubbed at her eyes as she breathed in deep breaths. However, Lucy’s eyes were blank as she stared straight ahead. The only sign of emotion being the shake of her shoulders or the wet drops that she had missed.

What her brown eyes couldn’t tear her eyes from was the picture of her wedding day. She was beaming at the camera, her white dress still on as they had photographs in the gardens. Her father was beside her, his tired eyes managing to smile at the camera as he was seated in his wheelchair.

He had been incredibly happy for her. His baby girl growing up and finding a nice guy when she was only sixteen. The wedding being held as soon as they had graduated. Jackal’s future was always promising. He was taken in when he was only a child by his uncle who was a wealthy businessman and a good friend of her fathers. He was meant to inherit the company. Jude had always said ‘that boy will grow into a fine man one day.’ A bitter smile pulled at her lips as she realised how wrong her dad had been.

Her father had passed not long after the wedding. Six months of continuous heart problems that left him so exhausted he could barely get out of bed. He never saw Jackal when he had started to gamble, or when he had been disowned by his uncle. Her husband burned through more money then they could make, finishing her inheritance in a few short years. If it wasn’t for the house they brought when they had first moved out, she was sure they’d be homeless.

Even now they struggled. He spent his time guzzling drink after drink - either in front of their TV at home, or in the pub. She often wondered what her father would say now. He’d tried his hardest, working day and night, to give her an easier life. Yet now she could barely make ends meet as she was overdue on bills and had notices piling up in her mailbox of debts that needed to be paid. What she would often think about more is what her mother would think. If she was disappointed that her daughter was creeping around with another man.

A sigh left her lips as she continued to sit on the floor, her hands scratching at her thighs through her jeans as she was lost in thought.

She knew her mother would be most upset about her dead eyes. The way she could rarely give a smile these days. She had only wanted Lucy to be happy.

___

I never uploaded the full version of this because I was nervous but I’m releasing part 2 soon so I thought I might as well.

[lxveille]

What about on a crowded street at 9 with Jihoon for the flash fics~

title: impulseword count: ~ 1770warnings: jihoon struggling with zombie instincts (so, like, technically cannibalism ???) but Everything is Fine i promisea/n: zombie!au. technically a sequel to caveat but probably understandable on its own.

Jihoon is dead.

Kind of.

Undead is the closest word Jihoon uses himself, as he fumbles at trying to explain how he actually survived the car wreck. He’s not sure what the term is for ‘divine intervention’ when it’s coming from a witch. 

You prefer re-alive. Though ever search engine comes back saying you should use reanimated instead. Unless were curious about some poorly reviewed sci-fi film. The trouble is there’s a lot of films that come up no matter what keywords you enter. You’re beginning to suspect that the wave of zombies in popular media might actually be some kind of elaborate scheme to bury any results that point towards it happening in real life. The query ‘real life zombie’ isn’t much use either; pulling up science articles on parasites with zingy titles. 

So you’re left on your own with a difficult question.

It’s the last question you thought to have to answer in your lifetime:

Would you date someone even if they had to feast on living flesh to survive?

The only thing odder, really, is how quickly the answer occurs to you once you finally close out the internet and sit down with yourself. 

There is a strange pros and cons list that gets written that night. Admittedly, you’re not sure what to make of ‘murder??’ and ‘what happens the next time he eats you out’ on the con list – but ‘you love him’ turns out to be a pretty powerful pro. 

You wonder if Jihoon had made any kind of list when he was deciding whether or not to try to stay with you after his change. It’s the kind of question that would make him scrunch up his shoulders and blush if you asked him. Or, it would have made him blush back his blood still pumped. 

It’s a lot to process. But you and Jihoon find a rhythm that seems to work. Affection weaves itself back into your lives carefully. Friends see it as him finally opening back up to you after a traumatic event. To be fair, it’s not that far off. Though it underestimates exactly how much adjusting it truly required of you both. 

And as the two of you patch together a new version of your relationship, others take it as a cue to start inviting you both out with them again

Jihoon can still eat the same meals as before, but it’s only for a cover of normalcy. In all the bustle around the table, your friends don’t seem to notice exactly how little time lets any meat rest on the grill for. Amidst the two to three conversations crossing through the large group, your eyes catch his with sympathy. He manages a small smile back, and you aren’t sure what to make of the twist in your throat. Tonight was meant to be a return to normalcy. Instead, it feels now more than ever that the secret is burning on your tongue. 

When the meal has ended and everything is paid for, you find yourself letting out a sigh of relief unintentionally. 

“Tired already?” Seungkwan asks as he pulls on his jacket. “It’s only just nine.”

“Yeah, well, you know,” you fumble with filler words, “It’s been a long week.” 

“That’s the whole reason for going out,” Mimi jumps in on the conversation, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “You’ll wake up if you get to the bar,” she suggests with a grin. You protest only for Seungkwan to second her idea. 

“I think we were both planning on an early night, guys,” Jihoon comments without looking up from double-checking he has everything in his wallet. At his voice, Mimi’s look shifts to one of condolence. You wonder how long everyone will drop questions out of pity for what they think he’s gone through. You wonder what looks they’d give if they knew what really happened.

“If you guys change your mind you can always text us,” Seungkwan relents as well.

Mimi doesn’t unwind her arm from you until the group of you have exited the restaurant. With the sun down, the autumn chill is all the heavier in the air. “Let me know if you need anything,” she says to you privately before saying goodbye. With a wave back at you, she joins the others in heading down the crowded sidewalk. 

You drift to Jihoon’s side, and take a moment to glance between him and the group of familiar backs heading further and further away. “Maybe you ought to tell them you’re trying a raw diet, or something,” you comment, only a fraction serious with the idea. 

He lets out a dry chuckle. “Then they’d just invite us to some trendy salad place instead,” he responds. He doesn’t look your way; eyes following the paths of random strangers as they pass by.

“A nightmare,” you joke, and slip a hand into his. His skin in cold, and it takes him a moment to react at all to your contact. When his fingers do intertwine with yours, they do so with more pressure than you anticipate. It feels as if he’d rather be forming a fist. You tilt your head to try to get a better look at his expression without moving in front of him. His jaw is tense, and his lips don’t match with the laugh he’d given moment before. 

“Jihoon?” you prompt, trying not to summon too much worry. “Are you okay?” 

That question seems to knock something into his head, and he nearly snaps his head as he turns to look at you. “Yeah.” His tone is not convincing, though his hold loosens a bit. As if he’d only just realized how tightly he’d grasped back. “Let’s just go home.” 

You nod. You imagine he means his apartment, but there’s every chance he means both of you parting ways. Even with the truth out, there’s still times he recedes into himself. Admittedly, part of you is grateful that there’s parts he wants to keep from you. You’d walked on him halfway through satiating his hunger once, and it wasn’t a sight you were keen on seeing again. 

Conversation doesn’t come easily as the two of you start down the sidewalk. It doubles down on the sense that he’d been less than honest when he claimed to be fine. You listen in on halves of sentences of passersby, half hoping to overhear something funny that could be used to break the odd tension settling between you and Jihoon. 

Halfway down the third block, someone’s side knocks against Jihoon’s shoulder in the shuffle of it all. It’s the kind of thing to make either one of you scoff or complain. He doesn’t do either. He jerks to a halt instead, catching you off guard. His fingers dig in against the back of your hand, forcing your fingers to flex. His head is turned away from you, seeming to watch the accidental offender carry on their way. 

“Come on,” you say, and try to give an encouraging tug. His arm stays stiff. Nerves boil up inside you, searing with the thought that something is wrong. “You wanna go home, right, Jihoon?” 

He looks to you. The expression he has makes you want to pull your hand free and run. In the movies, zombies eyes become red, or the veins on their faces run dark in warning. There’s nothing nearly as obvious on Jihoon’s face. But you can see it all the same: an angry hungry, pulling at him like mad dogs at the ends of short leases. 

You don’t run. You take a few steps, fingers still linked with his. “It’s okay,” you tell him. He follows your lead without a word. Once you reach the corner, you take a quick look in each direction before heading down towards the least populated street. Your path sways towards the inside of the pavement, drawing to a stop with the two of you underneath the awning of some store already closed for the night. 

He releases your hand and nearly throws himself against the wall. His fingers curl at the brickwork, looking ready to claw the building to dust. “I’m sorry.” You watch him carefully, keeping an eye out for anyone else coming down the road. “Would it be easier if we got a taxi, or…?”

Jihoon turns around, shoulders pressing tight against the wall and eyes screwed shut. His hands are in his hair now, nails at his scalp. “I don’t know.” 

It hurts to see him in this state. Hurts enough to dim the fear that should be taking hold of your heart. You step closer to him, desperate to console him. “It’s alright. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get back to your place and…” you begin, reaching out for one of his arms. 

In an instant, his grip is around your wrist instead. His eyes on you, sharp and dark and restrained. “You shouldn’t,” Jihoon warns. What of is not entirely clear. 

“You don’t have to deal with this on your own,” you manage out the flurry of words. It’s the reasoning that makes accepting what he is now easier. It comes out like a default, still convinced he’s the one who needs help in this instant. 

His hand pulls you closer slowly. Before you can process what’s happening, your hand is by his face, the tip of your thumb between his lips. His gaze is steady on your face as your nail scrapes against his bottom teeth. Incisors press down against the fleshy underside. A pinching feeling hits your brain and has you tugging your arm away from the sensation. Jihoon is stronger than you, and it isn’t until he lets go that you can pull your hand to your chest. 

You look for damage, and find nothing more than a sheen of saliva on the end of your thumb. You know, though, that the whole of that damp skin could be gone now if he hadn’t been holding back. 

Still, he’s hissing curses regretfully.

You stay back this time as you try again, “Please. If we get a car you can get back to yours and eat faster.”

“Why won’t you go?” he asks. The frustration in his voice stings, even if you believe it isn’t truly meant for you. A lingering ache in your fingertip keeps you from closing the space between you. 

“I already told you.”

Jihoon closes his eyes again and takes a few slow, shaky breaths. “You’re so dumb,” he mutters towards the cement. When he looks up at you, though, there’s something like relief in his gaze. 

“I’ll get us a cab.”

[kenobion]

Changing Strings

This is a little tutorial on how, when, and why to go about changing your bass (or guitar) strings. Granted, I am no specialist, so these are things I have picked up on my own through various readings, but it should do as a summary. You can always research more into a topic if you’d like to learn more about it.

Your initial question might be why bother with changing strings anyway? A guy at the music store I bought my strings from told me he knows guitarists and bassists who never change their strings . . . they simply adjust the treble on their amps instead. That workaround is a hint to one of the reasons why: old, stretched out, dirty strings lose their tone, in particular the clarity and brightness.

Replacing your strings helps ensure the sound that is delivered to your amp is the best it can be and helps you get in some bonding and understanding of your instrument through general care, plus it gives you a chance to try out even more string types or gauges - there are many to choose from (once you start looking at them it does become a bit addictive, full disclosure).

My current preference (psst D’Addario want to sponsor me? hah):

So how do you know when it might be time to switch out your strings? It’s partly up to you, because depending on how much and how often you play, you might need a more or less frequent schedule. Generally, if you start to lose clarity of sound from your strings and your playing starts to sound muddy, that’s a pretty good sign that your strings might need some refreshment. Visual signs to look for could include dullness of color, compared to shiny new strings, and little dark marks or the appearance of grunge across the strings.

Here’s a closeup on the old strings I removed from my bass. You can see they’re a bit grotty.

When you play, you should always wash your hands beforehand (hah), so your instrument stays as clean as possible, which will help reduce wear from exposure to unwanted materials (like grease on your fingers from food you recently ate, etc etc). This routine, along with wiping the strings down after you’re done playing, will help give your strings some extended life too, but in time the natural oils from your hands will end up on them anyway.

Here I have overlaid the old strings over the new ones on my bass. You can see a definite difference in color, the old ones being duller.

Generally, the dead sound and darker/semi-dirtied appearance will clue you in that it’s time. I noticed this on my own strings after about six months, so you can use that as a benchmark, but depending on your playing habits and which strings you have, you might need to change sooner or later.

Now that you know the why and when, let’s get to the how. The first consideration is not the process, however, but which strings you are going to use. Not only are there many many brands out there (like D’Addario, Ernie Ball, and more), but there are also many different string materials too. These include:

Nickel - for a warmer, more vintage tone

Nickel-plated steel - used for many styles, very versatile, these are most likely what is on your bass

Stainless steel - very bright, strong tone

Nylon - more likely to be used in guitars versus basses

Chrome - for an even richer tone, warmer than nickel

And you may see even more than that too. Strings also come in different winding styles - this refers to the way the outermost layer is wound around the core. Roundwound (traditional), halfwound (for less finger noise), flatwound (for no finger noise), and tapewound (for a more upright bass sound) are some of the options.

If you know which strings you currently have, you might like to stick with the same ones, and if you’re not sure, nickel-plated steel roundwounds are a pretty solid choice. If you’re feeling more experimental, feel free to choose something different - you might like the new sound you discover.

And if that weren’t enough to think about, you also have a choice to make regarding gauge too. Gauge refers to the thickness of the strings, and gauges are often referred to based on the size of the lowest string. In this case, 100 is the size of the E string of a regular light gauge set, which is a common sizing, so such a set is commonly referred to as 100s for short.

There are heavier sets available, and lighter ones too. It really depends on which feel you prefer under your fingers. I like the feel of slightly thicker strings, so I’ve gone with medium gauge, which is 105s. What you choose is up to you.

Observe the size of the medium gauge and round, bumpy appearance here for the roundwounds:

As you can see, there are plenty of options when it comes to selecting your strings, from brand to material to winding to gauge to options for coating (which can add color to or act as protection for the strings from wear), and it can be a bit overwhelming. You may want to look into the difference in tone between strings and do some reading, or you might wish to follow your instincts and simply go with your gut for your choice. 

One more thing to note: bass strings come in short scale, for short scale basses (which you might have if you have a smaller reach), and in long scale, for regular size basses. Make sure you choose the right one, because short scale strings will not fit a full scale bass.

Once you have chosen and purchased your strings, it’s time to get to the process of switching them in.

First, be sure to loosen all of the strings on your bass (or guitar, but I’m a bassist so I’m going to use the bass term usually) evenly. Take off all of the tension. Turn the tuning keys until the strings are slack.

Now you need to remove the strings - you can either cut them near the stockhead using a wire cutter, then unwind the remainder from the posts by turning the tuning keys, or you can completely unwind them using the tuning keys to keep them intact (my preference). Once detached, pull them out through the bottom of the bridge, then put them aside.

Bass, de-stringed:

Once you’ve removed all the strings, you might like to take a chance to do some cleanup of your fretboard, now that it is exposed. If you have some fretboard oil, this would be a good time to apply it (just make sure there’s no lemon oil in it, especially if you have a maple fretboard, as the lemon will dehydrate the wood and make it more susceptible to cracking). This is a time you can polish your frets too.

Once you’re done cleaning, grab your new strings. Starting with the E string, the thickest one, uncoil it if it is wrapped up, then put it through the hole in the bridge, and over the appropriate saddle, so it rests in the groove. Pull it through until the ball end rests against the bottom of the bridge. These photos demonstrate using my A string, which I wanted to rewind anyway.

Now take the far end and draw it towards the lowest pole in your stockhead. You will notice a hole in the middle of the pole - stick the end of the string into this, as far down as it will go. Then, flatten the string into the slot sideways, to get it prepared for being wound down along the post.

Guiding the string down the post, start to wind it, using the tuning key. You will have to do a lot of turning, so keep at it. As you turn, gradually guide the string downward along the post, so it wraps evenly and is prevented from bunching together. You may hear some noises as the string bends.

Eventually, you’ll feel the string start to take some tension (no need to worry about tuning right away, that can be left until you have all the strings on). You can stop winding at this point, and move on to the next string.

Repeat the process for each string. If you have a string guide (as I do), an extra round piece of metal that is situated beneath and roughly between the third and fourth posts, make sure to thread the third (D) and fourth (G) strings beneath it, and put each string in the appropriate groove on the backside of the guide. Not all basses have this, but if yours does, it helps keep your strings in line.

With all of the strings now successfully attached, you can tune your instrument up. You may notice over the next couple of days that you will have to consistently readjust your tuning each time you play, because the strings are still getting used to being stretched out. After about a week or so though, this will likely become less of a problem.

Ready to go!

When you change strings, especially if you change gauges, there is always a chance your action - the distance the strings are from the frets - might change. If your action is too low, you can experience a lot of undesired fret buzz, because the strings are too close to the frets and inadvertently touch them. Action that is too high, conversely, can cause extra tension in the strings, which means you need to apply a lot more pressure while you play.

If you find you need an adjustment, you can either adjust the saddles on the bridge, or you can adjust the tension of your truss rod (the piece of metal that controls the curve of the neck and attaches to the instrument’s body). That’s a whole other issue though, and this piece is long enough already, so I’ll save that for another time. I hope you enjoyed reading! 🎸

[thedistantstorm]

Keep On Rising (Until the Sky Knows Your Name) 18

Found Family | Zavala is Tower Dad | Father-Daughter Relationship | Childhood Trauma and Recovery | Canon-Typical Violence | Amputation

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

This time: The Vanguard steps in to help one of their own.

-/

“Alright, someone needs to tell me what’s going on.”

Ikora looks across the table to Cayde. “If you paid attention,” She reminds him, before looking back at the text she’d been studying, “You would know everything that’s happening.”

“No. You know what’s going on, and it has to do with him-” He jerks a thumb at Zavala who ignores him entirely. “So what is it? Someone spill the beans.”

“There is nothing going on,” Ikora answers him, sounding fed up. She purposely does not look towards Zavala, lest she evoke some additional paranoia from their third. “Zavala has meetings to attend to, and I’m handling the reports of Vex activity near Ishtar.”

Cayde looks between them suspiciously, his faceplates forming a gaze chock full of intense scrutiny. “This has been going on for more than a week. You’ve made me cover for you twice to work on some research on nights you’re not even supposed to have the late shift, and, more than that, he took an entire day off and we’re just not gonna talk about it?!”

Zavala clears his throat. “What, exactly, do you think is going on, Cayde?”

“Ikora gave you a parenting book.”

“What?” Ikora looks positively scandalized. She certainly sounds that way as well. It’s done on purpose. The more outlandish reaction draws Cayde away from Zavala and his absolutely abysmal poker face.

The Hunter Vanguard gives Ikora his most friendly of smiles… then turns back to Zavala. “Soooo, either someone’s going to start talking, or I’m going to start asking questions.”

Zavala’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Let’s assume Ikora did, in fact, give me a book about parenting,” He begins, in a voice that’s almost disinterested. He purses his lips and shakes his head slightly. “There are plenty of lessons that could pertain to a new Titan-” Cayde holds up a finger to interject that the newest Guardians have been Hunters but Zavala continues on, “Or any Guardian, really, regardless of class.”

“So it has nothing to do with an actual child? It’s just another side project, like that knitting class?”

“Yes, Cayde.”

Cayde hums, before bursting out into a wide smiley tone. “Well, that’s some weight off my chest. Couldn’t imagine you with some rugrat. You’re too…”

“Too what, exactly?”

The Gunslinger blinks at him, more specifically the edge of anger in his voice. “Busy. Intolerant of horseplay and shenanigans. As much as you love your Titans, they’re at least big beefy children when they’re kinderguardians.”

Ikora coughs, interrupting the Titan-Hunter staring contest that ensues. “Zavala, didn’t you say you had to stop at the Bazaar before your meeting?” She murmurs casually. “You don’t want to be late.”

“Ah. Yes,” He agrees. “Thank you for reminding me.”

Zavala doesn’t spare Cayde a glance as he leaves the hall, his Ghost flitting to one of the techs and humming some instructions before disappearing from sight.

“What was that?” Ikora asks.

“What was what?” Cayde presses back, gesticulating wildly. “Something is clearly going on with him, ‘Kora. You know it as much as I do.”

“I do.” She swings her gaze in the direction of Zavala’s post then back to Cayde, imploring, “Don’t push him. He’s under a lot of stress right now.”

“I’m really tired of the two of you keeping secrets.” The Hunter looks down at his map before sighing. “I’m a part of this team too. I don’t want to do any more digging and piss him off, but I deserve to know what’s going on. I care, y’know.”

Ikora sighs. “I know you do, Cayde.”

“Then give me something here.”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

“I’m not asking for all the details. I just want to know what the hell he’s actually doing. He’s not having a meeting. I’ve checked all his meeting spots.”

“Technically, he is meeting someone.”

Cayde freezes mid-gesture, tipping his hands to indicate Ikora could stand to give him something more than that.

“Cayde, don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything.”

She crosses her arms, growling, “You’re guilting me.”

“Ah, ah,” He wags a finger at her. “It’s only guilting if it’s working.”

Her gaze could melt the average person’s resolve to challenge her in seconds. Cayde is either immune or oblivious and therefore weathers her glower. “How’d you find out about the book?”

“It’s bookmarked and on the desk in his office, so I know he’s reading it.” Ikora goes to refute that, but Cayde beats her to the punch. “The bookmark is the one I gave him for the Dawning. The one he uses for special books. He’s told me he cherishes it. Zavala’s not the kind of guy to lie about that sort of thing.”

“So how do you know I gave it to him?”

“Because you’ve just told me.”

“Not in as many words,” She points out.

“No, but it’s not a difficult conclusion to come to, don’t ya think?” He studies her carefully.

She sighs. “If I tell you-” Cayde perks, “If,” Ikora stresses, “You cannot, under any circumstances tell anyone. It’s non-negotiable.”

Cayde nods, “Okay, okay, jeez. The way you’re acting, you’d think-”

Ikora looks away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He shakes his head, planting both hands on his map and leaning forward. “You’re pulling my leg.”

Her lips thin. “She’s sick.”

“How long has this-”

“A while.”

“Well, what are we gonna do to help?!” 

“Excuse me?”

Cayde rounds the table, sitting on it, facing Ikora. He can get away with it now that their leader is gone. “I mean, if this is really a thing that’s happening and not a joke, he needs help, right? So how do we handle it?”

Ikora sets down the book she’s holding open against her hip, unwinding her crossed arms. “What do you mean? He just needs space and time.”

“Yeah, and like a million other things," Cayde deadpans, pondering, "Kid’s sick. So that explains why he’s been going to the medbay and not home every night.”

“You know about that?”

“I know lots of stuff,” Cayde stresses. “You might have your Hidden, but I have scouts, too. And they report weird things to me all the time.”

“So you know.”

“Yeah. I mean, it was obvious there was some sort of tire-fire going on two weeks ago, but…”

“There was. It’s… better.”

“Okay. Well, that’s good, but like, he’s gonna need our help whether he wants it or not. And not just parenting books. Like actual favors.”

“Cayde-”

“Not ones I’m going to expect anything in return for. I owe him like a million favors.”

“I believe he stopped counting at two-hundred seventy-six,” Ikora reminds him.

“Yeah, and that was what, a decade ago?”

“Almost two now.” She fixes him with a cruel half-smile.

“I hate you.”

She laughs outright. The sound still scares the techs, but Cayde joins in without hesitation.

“No, really,” He assures her, though it couldn’t be further from the truth “You’re the worst.”

-/

Ikora is the one who seeks out Eva, but Cayde is the one who orchestrates the whole thing. Shaxx covers for them, Zavala is occupied with a ‘conference’ this time, and thus, Ikora and Cayde meet Eva in the market district, carrying an absurd amount of boxes and baggage to the Commander’s flat.

“How much stuff does a kid need?”

“I’ve brought most of it already. It’s just sitting in his office. We’re going to have to do some reorganizing,” Eva instructs them.

By that, she means they need to literally rearrange his entire living space. Ikora insists on moving his desk and files herself, mostly to prevent any issues with Cayde snooping - but most importantly to keep him from messing up the Commander’s disorganized self-organization.

Cayde is tasked with building the much smaller desk and chair, taking to it without argument and following the instructions to the letter. Eva builds a small set of shelving while Ikora moves two oversized bookshelves of poetry like they’re a tenth of their weight. The table and chairs in small dining room are replaced by the items that made up his study, transforming an open, breezy space into a cozy, but invigorating one. It wasn’t like Zavala often used the room, anyway, for how little time he spent at home.

“Someone likes space,” Ikora comments mildly from the doorway to the room being made over.

“She wants to be a pilot,” Eva says fondly, spreading a set of star-patterned sheets over a twin-sized bed frame.

“But she’s sick, you said.” Cayde looks to Ikora, confused.

“That doesn’t mean she won’t be able to do something,” Eva hums, flapping a bedspread over the top of the sheets with a snappish flick of her wrists.

“Oh, I didn’t-”

“I’m sure she will,” Ikora says, silencing Cayde with a shake of her head. “How’s her therapy going?”

“Decent. She’s still not putting on enough weight.”

“Zavala mentioned that,” Ikora replies evenly. Cayde makes himself appear busy, but Ikora can tell he’s listening, even as he works to finish the little chair that matches the desk. “Her wounds are mostly healed though.”

“Almost. Her stump is still giving her trouble. They’re hoping next weekend she’ll be home.”

“Stump?” Cayde’s head tips over her shoulder. “Kid lose an arm or somethin’?”

“A leg.” Eva sighs. “She’s been so good about all of it, too”

“H-how’d he even-”

The front door opens and the two Vanguard flinch. Eva continues fluffing the pillows that go atop the bed, letting them have their moment as she sets about arranging an assortment of children’s clothes in the small dresser. Cayde finishes the final screw of the chair and heads toward the front of the flat at Ikora’s heels. 

Zavala looks confused, standing in his entryway. “What is the meaning of-”

Cayde nudges Ikora’s shoulder, standing beside her as she crosses her arms. “We’re just helping out,” The Hunter tells him, lighthearted in tone, but his optics are serious. “You’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

“This is…” He squints, almost in disbelief.

“We tried to disturb as little as we could,” Ikora tells him with a tiny smile. “I set Cayde loose on some furniture in Amanda's new room. He’s good at building things.” She rolls her eyes, adding for Zavala’s comfort, “... And Eva kept an eye on him.”

Offended, Cayde cries, “Hey! I wouldn’t take the easy way out. It’s not for me.”

“I-” He shakes his head, eyelids fluttering. Definitely disbelief. “Thank you,” He says, hoarsely.

Cayde pats the Titan’s deltoid. “Don’t get emotional on us now. You haven’t seen how good the kid’s room looks yet. She - she’s gonna love it. Save your tears for my craftsmanship.”

Zavala rolls his eyes, and Ikora smiles at him as Cayde turns and heads back to the study-turned-bedroom. “I hope you’re not mad that I told him.”

“No,” The Commander replies. “It was only a matter of time.”

“He was worried about you.”

“You’re more than I deserve. Both of you. Eva, too.”

“Enough of that.” She reaches for him in a rare show of affection. She’d never go for something as intimate as a hug, but as she squeezes his shoulders, the sentiment is the same. “You deserve all the help you need, so don’t be afraid to ask.” She releases him. “Though, I don’t know if I’d ask Cayde to babysit.” She gives him a face that suggests she’s actually babysitting him, right now.

“Oh, come on.” The Hunter Vanguard pokes his head out of the bedroom, but as he’s sitting on the floor working on furniture, he’s mostly laying on the carpet. “I’d be the coolest babysitter, and you both know it!”

The Warlock and Titan’s eyes meet. “Definitely not,” They agree, heading the bedroom to save Eva from the Exo’s antics and show Zavala their progress.