#but i immediately crave a relationship the moment i see two people doing silly romantic things together should be studied

[drunkonimagination]

saw this trend floating around where couples paint their nails the colour of their partner’s eyes and i’ve never felt more jealous

[spatialwave]

asking for jordan marie content and specially communication, like early on stuff when maybe they aren't dating yet but they are hanging out more and they start to get closer and marie starts to realize that jordan tends to shift to his male form when things get slightly romantic and she asks them about it, maybe playing like "how do you decide when to shift?" phrasing as a silly curiosity and jordan opens up about their insecurities and marie reassured them and yeah they kiss !

oh, i adore this! i hope this does your ask justice. 🩵 word count: 684

-

marie had noticed something about jordan in recent days, a peculiar tendency about their shifting form. since their first kiss, the two of them had become quite close, still a bit unsure about what they were. both of them were great at avoiding the big question, in fact, it was fun with it being a bit unclear. though, marie was craving a deeper connection, wanting to see what jordan was like when they were vulnerable. jordan could sense that too, which scared them. they were having fun with marie, without the responsibility of a relationship, but they were smart enough to know that this blissful ignorance wouldn't last forever.

"hey, jordan," marie asked softly with a smile on her lips, the two of them had been sitting in a grassy area of the quad on campus. enjoying a break from class and the sun, it was marie's idea. "can i ask you something?"

they looked over at her, quirking an eyebrow, "as long as you're not asking me for a favour. i'm actually enjoying doing a bit of nothing." they responded with a soft sigh, turning ahead as they closed their eyes and soaked up the rays of the sun. marie admired them for a few moments, taking in their shoulder-length hair and how the curls framed the side of their face.

"i've just been curious about the way you shift," she started, smiling as she tried to keep her question lighthearted, not wanting jordan to think she was prying, "how do you decide to do it? is it an emotional thing? do you have to think really hard for it to work?"

jordan looked over at her, swallowing thickly down their throat when they connected their gaze. they knew this question would come up eventually, but they were unaware of why marie was asking. "it's kinda' hard to explain," they said, shrugging, "it's second nature, i don't really have to think so hard about it. i can do it whenever i want."

marie nodded along as they spoke, trying so damn hard to keep the question inside, but it was like word vomit, "then why do you always shift into your male form when you're with me?" she questioned, eyes widening, "i mean, like, you know. not right now obviously, but if we were alone in your room. that's when you would." she swallowed a lump down her throat

she regretted the question immediately because she saw the pain that formed in jordan's eyes. yet, she felt she deserved an answer.

another sigh came from jordan, their eyes flickering away as they began fidgeting with their hands, "do you want the honest answer or the easy answer?" they asked back but didn't get a response. wetting their lips, they looked over to marie, eyes softening, "i, uh," their voice cracked, "i wasn't sure what you wanted, i just assumed... that's what most girls want from me. no one's ever wanted to be with both." they said, cringing at the word, hating that they often times had to talk about themselves like they were two different people.

jordan couldn't look her in the eyes anymore, their brown orbs falling down to look at the grass underneath them. how embarrassing.

"don't assume anything with me," marie spoke, her voice gentle. a hand reached over and slid over jordan's jaw, then their neck, "it's new to me, but... i like you. all of you." she whispered, staring at jordan like there was no one else in the world.

their gaze met once again, both filled with adoration for each other. jordan was about to scoff, ready to brush it all off, but it didn't take much to see the sincerity in her eyes. jordan's lips parted to speak, but marie didn't let them.

"i mean it," she whispered, leaning forward towards jordan. there was a tense feeling that moved through them, wanting to shift for security - but they didn't. they let marie move in close until their lips pressed into a chaste kiss.

jordan had been waiting for this moment for years. for someone like marie.

[ruins-posts]

Umm, do you write fluff alphabet? could you do it for Sebastian Michaelis from black butler?

It's alright if you don't, sorry for the trouble.

🤍 Sebastian Michaelis Fluff Alphabet 🤍

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Sebastian would love to spend time with some of his feline friends with your company, the two of his most favourite creatures on Earth. Sebastian also enjoys taking long strolls along with you, engaging in some deep and meaningful conversation.

He enjoys teaching, and so he'll always be up to teach his s/o something new that they've been wanting to learn or something he feels they should learn. He'll probably end up showing off his skills though.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Sebastian is beyond petty concepts such as physical attractiveness, if his s/o's personality has managed to intrigue and interest him, he will greatly admire that. He'll admire how your personality stands out compared to the other human beings, your unique traits and interests, the way you view the world, and above all, your ability to love a monster like him.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down?

Sebastian will give you your space to figure out things on your own, but if you require his comfort and support he will immediately rush to your side, providing you with any and every thing you need. He will listen to all your feelings if you're willing to pour them out, he's more than willing to provide you with a shoulder to cry on.

Even though he doesn't understand the complexity of human emotions, he's learned comfort mechanisms over the years.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Given the current situation, he does not see his relationship with you evolving at all. However, if a miracle happens and the contract does reach an end, he might drag you to hell with him.

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

No, Sebastian will not see you as his equal or as superior to him. Humans are lowly creatures, and to be honest, you're no exception. He's definitely the dominant one, but he is also very respective of you.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Sebastian has a good amount of control over his wrath, he won't speak anything till he feels it's absolutely necessary. He'll be fine if you aplogise to him, but it's never the other way around. You'll never get an apology from him, he's too proud to say sorry.

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He is always aware of the littlest of things you do for him, and he will even try to return your gestures. The return of gestures is mostly done in physical forms, such as hand holding, kisses, cuddles, and sometimes when you're lucky he'll even bake you a few sweets and make you some tea. None of your affections go unnoticed.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Oh dear, he has millions of secrets that he keeps hidden from you. Mostly because they're horrifying and could give you nightmares for days, they're secrets your frail human mind might not be able to handle.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Not really, the only change that came in him after he met you was that he felt a slight amount of love in his cold, ruthless heart, and he was willing to protect someone outside of a contract.

Sebastian usually has no personal problems, even if he did he's perfectly capable of finding the solutions on his own. He'll not want to burden you with his problems.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

This demon is possessive of what belongs to him, and so he absolutely won't stand it if someone's trying to steal you from him, they will be annihilated.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

There's no questioning Sebas-chan's kissing skills, he's excellent. He'll always leave you craving for more. His kisses are the most passionate, rough and yet gentle.

The first kiss was probably planned out by him, even though you were oblivious to it. He took you out for a peaceful evening walk in the gardens, and it naturally happened in the flow of the moment. The two of you leaned in till your lips met, and he pulled you closer to him deepening it.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

After the very first kiss that the two of you shared, Sebastian would tell you that he holds some amount admiration for you and that does not consider you as just another pest human. That's it, that was his confession.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Sebastian doesn't think that marriage is necessary for you two to become closer, but if you want be wedded to him, he will gladly do it. The function won't be a grand or an official one, just the two of you simply declaring your vows to each other.

He'll only marry you after his current contract is over, though.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

You'll be called regular nicknames such as 'darling' or 'my love', but his favourite is surely 'kitten'.

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

This butler is a master of masking his emotions, nobody will get even the slightest of hint that he's in love with somebody. Though when he's alone with you, he'll allow himself to be vulnerable and show how much he loves you quite freely.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Sebastian won't be very affectionate in public, and will prefer to keep his relationship a secret to maintain his 'perfect butler' image in front of people.

He's won't mind occasional hand holding and kisses when nobody is looking though.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He's simply one hell of a butler, but I'm pretty sure he can give you a glimpse of heaven, if you know what I mean ;)

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy?

Quite romantic. He'll romance you all he can in his free time. He's an affectionate demon, in his alone time he's always in physical contact with you in one way or the other.

He'll study through human romantic gestures for you, even though he finds them silly. But as long as you're happy, he'll do anything.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Yes, he will support you unconditionally. And trust me, if he believes in you and says you can do it, you can. He won't give you false hopes and motivate you to do things that are beyond your capabilities.

He's willing too help you if you ever need it. It's a pleasure to him when he's the reason behind your success.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Sebastian will leave that up to you. If you like routine, he'll stick to it. However, if you believe that you need to try out new things to spice up your relationship, he'll do that as well.

You'll have to specify what exactly you want to do to spice it up though, ask and he will bring it to you.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He can read human emotions to some extent, but he won't be able to figure out what exactly is bothering you. If you're vocal about it, he will absolutely help you put. He's always putting in effort to understand you better.

He's a demon, empathy is something he absolutely will not feel. A tiny bit of sympathy might arise, but don't expect him to be empathetic.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

After his young master, you are his second priority. You hold an important position in his life, but he will never put you before his young master. He's bound by contract to him, after all.

You are the only one who can make him feel the slightest bit of emotion, filling his heart with a strange warmth he has never experienced. Being a demon he must consume souls as food, and other than that, you're the other thing important in his life.

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Being a demon, he doesn't require sleep, but he does love to lie down and watch you beside you as you sleep. The sight of your chest falling and rising rhythmically and your peaceful face fills him with a peaceful feeling. He only wonders what sleep feels like to humans.

And he loves to coddle you while you're fast asleep. He finds the sight rather cute.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Sebastian is fond of expressing himself through physical touch, so a certain amount cuddles and kissing is involved. He won't admit it but he misses your touch when you're not around.

Kissing you is one of his favourite things to do. The sight of your flushed face and heavy breathing after he's done with ravaging your lips fills him with pride.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He'll try to lose himself in his work, and even seek the company of his beloved cats. He actually won't miss you unless you're going away for too long, and in that case, secret visits are guaranteed.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes, you hold an important place in his cold heart, and he's grown rather fond of you. He'll go any lengths to keep you with him and protect you, because you're the only one who he's willing to make himself vulnerable to.

[tobesoalive]

latch (Sam Kiszka x reader)

hey guys here's the little Sam enemies to lovers smut that was requested! idc if it’s a bit cheesy, I had a ton of fun writing it so please please please send in more requests! I love helping your ideas come to life! 

Warnings: Smut (Oral-f and m receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex)

Friday had finally rolled around and you were more than ready. After a long week of classes and work you were more than ready to have some fun tonight. You and your roommates were going to have some people over tonight to celebrate your second year of college almost being over. You had come up with the idea last weekend and quickly made a list of who all should be invited. There was one person on the guest list that you were dreading to see, no other than Samuel Kiszka.

You had met a kid named Danny Wagner in your first class freshman year, and you two became fast friends, sharing many of the same interests and hobbies. Together you and Danny were a dynamic duo, and you always made each other laugh. People often thought you were dating, but he already had a beautiful girlfriend back home. Danny also had another person constantly attached at his hip, Sam Kiszka, you’d almost think they were the ones dating.

Sam was a lanky kid with sharp features and an extremely annoying god complex. He really thought he was the absolute shit and that everyone was in awe of him. Quite honestly many people were, but you saw right through it. You found him to be arrogant and rude, and you were always disappointed to see him when you went over to Danny’s place, even though he was his roommate. Sam would often show up unannounced at your place too, mostly with Danny, but a couple of times he showed up alone. You were always polite, inviting him in like the good host you are, and you two ended up watching a movie together, and much to your surprise, in these times he was almost tolerable. Almost. He would make a snide remark or joke that would infuriate you, but he wouldn’t stick around for long, usually having somewhere to be. That somewhere was usually the bed of another girl, but they probably didn’t just watch movies.

That was another reason you couldn’t stand Sam. Last year you had a crush on him and he would do the thing where he would play with your emotion, hang out with you and flirt with you only to immediately go and fuck random girls. It hurt you, a lot, but you eventually got over it, losing the romantic feelings, or rather pushing them deep down where you’d hope they’d never surface again.

Now people were going to be at your house in an hour and you haven't even showered. It didn’t really matter though, you weren’t all too concerned with what other people thought of your appearance, so what if your hair was a little wet. You quickly rinsed off in a cold shower, then changed into a simple outfit for the night, flared corduroys and a crocheted tank top.

That was the other thing, you’d think you were exactly Sam’s type, he seemed like he would be into girls who were more artistic and down to earth, but all the girls he hooked up with seemed like they spent most of their time thinking about themselves. Not that there was anything wrong with those girls, you weren’t the “pick me” type, but it seemed like Sam would care about that kind of thing. Whatever, you don’t even like him anyways, he’s more of a nuisance than anything.

You had finished a seltzer by the time people started arriving, the playlist you and your roommates curated playing throughout the apartment. Being with your friends always made you very energetic, and people always said they liked being around you. You could get a crowd laughing in no time. People were coming through the doors and when there were about 75% of the people there, your partner in crime finally arrived. “Wagner!” you shouted across the room in a dumb accent, already a little buzzed. “Where art thou good friend?!” Danny yelled back, matching your accent as you two finally made your way to each other, wrapping him in a friendly embrace. “Where’s your obnoxious sidekick?” you whispered into his ear.

“Don’t worry he’s here. I know how you were just dying to see him.”

“Oh aren’t I always?” you responded with a sarcastic smile

“I still think you need to give him a chance, you’d probably really like him.”

Before you could even respond, he was running up behind Danny and lifting him up by his waist.

“Well if it isn’t dumb and dumber!” you exclaim before Sam comes up and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh come on (y/l/n), you love me!”

“Haha good one Kiszka, now why don’t we do something I actually love.”

“And what would that be?” Danny questions.

“Take a shot and dance our asses off!” you yell. If you were going to deal with Sam you needed to be a little more intoxicated.

You gathered your roommates and the boys and took them to the kitchen and got out the glasses.

“To friendship!” you yelled

Right then you caught danny say something quietly, and it looked like he was saying “Or more than friendship”

That made you stop for a second before throwing your head back and downing the shot.

“Ok let's get back out there” your roommate says as she pulls you by the arm.

You spend about the next half hour dancing with all your friends, taking hits of joints and drinking. You and Danny did a silly little dance you had come up with last year when you would get drunk in your dorms and do dumb shit. Mid-routine he slipped and pulled you down with him, both of you laughing your asses off. You felt someone grab your arm and help you up as the song changed, “Latch” by Sam Smith blasting through the speakers, one of the best party songs probably ever. The person who had grabbed you wrapped their arms around your waist, swaying back and forth with you to the music. You loosened the stranger’s grip and spun around only to be met with the face of that little shit, Sam.

“C’mon kid can’t you at least try to tolerate me for one song”

“Who ever said you were intolerable?” you respond, admiring how the dim light highlighted his features.

He leaned in close to your ear and lowly whispered in it “You think I can’t see it. Whenever you’re around me you act like it’s charity work.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes and say “It wasn’t always that way. Now let's get back to what we were doing. I like this song more than I like you, which is quite a lot.”

He gives you a grin before you start moving your body against him, and by the end of the song he’s staring at you in complete awe.

Once the song ended you broke free from his grasp. “See you later Kiszka” you say with a wink, turning around and disappearing into the crowd.

Your stomach was in knots, and not from disgust. The moment you just had brought up a lot of emotions, mostly about your romantic feelings for Sam but also the resentment you felt towards him. Fuck, you were in deep now. Things would be so much easier if you never had to see him again and all of this could go away. But alas, you needed to suck it up so you could still have a close relationship with Danny. Plus in about twenty minutes Sam would probably be grinding on another girl. Screw it, you were going to have a good time with your friends, you didn’t need Sam to be happy.

The rest of the night you avoided Sam, giving him zero of the attention he was craving. A couple hours later people were leaving your home or asleep somewhere in the living room, bathroom, kitchen you name it. Thankfully though, your room remained empty, you needed some space to think.

Everyone was asleep and the house was quiet, you threw on a pair of boxer shorts and an oversized Led Zeppelin shirt, passed down to you from Danny. You went to the kitchen and drank probably a gallon of water, making one last pit stop to the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. No matter how tired you felt you knew you'd thank yourself in the morning. Finally you were on the way back to your room when you stopped in the doorway. Sam was standing in there, looking at all your decorations and your extensive vinyl collection.

“You’ve changed some stuff since the last time I was here”

“Yeah, I like to rearrange stuff y'know? keep it new and interesting.” You remarked, rubbing the back of your neck and yawning, trying to hide your obvious panic. This is the last thing you were hoping for, being confronted one on one with the man himself.

“Are you cool if I stay here tonight? Daniel is passed out on the couch and I don’t feel like making the walk home alone.”

“Of course...did you want to sleep in here?” you ask before you could even stop the words from coming out of your mouth. Fuck, you were a dumbass.

“If that’s okay with you, sleeping next to a stranger wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“You never had a problem being in a stranger’s bed before” you mumbled, looking at the floor.

He didn’t say anything, just turned his head to stare at you for a second, his eyes seeming almost apologetic.

“Well you might as well get comfortable” you tell him as you turn off the lights and flick the lamp on.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow? I don’t really wanna sleep in jeans and a sweaty shirt.”

“Would you like an old one of Danny’s or one of mine?” you tease him, grabbing out yet another old band shirt of his roommate’s.

While he’s changing you turn away and busy yourself with lighting some incense and pulling the covers back, to avoid seeing his bare torso.

“Can I throw on a record? I can never get to sleep in the silence.”

“Help yourself” you say, but he already has a selection in his hands, Michigan by Sufjan Stevens, one of your favorites.

“Wonderful choice, but I imagine you’re a bit biased.” you say to him, both he and Danny were from the same town in Michigan and had to let everyone know.

“I just wanted something calm and serene, compared to all the fast paced stuff we’ve been blasting for the whole night.”

“Well it was a party Samuel, you have to give the people what they want” you tell him as you climb into bed.

Sam grabs for one of the pillows and a blanket, but you stop him.

“Were you gonna sleep on the floor like a dog? I don’t give a shit whether or not we share the bed.”

“I just assumed...I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable...or anything.”

“You might be surprised by this but I actually feel pretty safe around you” you confess to him. Fuck, you were still slightly intoxicated so your filter was off. It’s okay, he was still a little drunk too it seemed.

“Do you mind if I take my pants off?” he asks you with a sincere look on his face.

You can’t help but burst out laughing, finding his awkwardness and the absurdity of the comment quite hilarious.

“I’d prefer it to your rough jeans...as long as you’re wearing underwear.”

“C’mon I’m not that much of a freak” he says as he pulls down his zipper and clumsily kicks his pants off.

You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, he looked gorgeous quite honestly, long hair tangled, old shirt hanging off his shoulders and shark boxer briefs stopping at his mid thigh.

“Okay Kiszka, get in here before I change my mind.”

He pulls back the sheets and crawls in, laying his head on the pillow facing you.

“I’m sorry” he says, looking deeply in your eyes, seeming almost ashamed.

“About what?” you knew you shouldn’t feed into this, whatever was going on here was completely platonic and wouldn’t mean anything in the morning.

“Everything. Being such a dick to you. Leading you on. I promise that’s not me, I just, I honestly don’t know how to act around you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just the one person who actually kinda intimidates me. Or at least my feelings for you intimidate me.” he sighs.

“Is that why you are always fucking other girls and telling people about it when I’m around?”

“God you’re not going to take it easy on me, are you?”

“Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t. With the way I’ve treated you I honestly don’t expect anything from you, I just couldn’t hold it in any longer and I thought this was as good of a time as any.”

“Sam, can I be honest with you?”

“Of course”

“I actually don’t hate you at all like you seem to think. I can’t stand you because I really do like you, but I gave up on anything happening a long time ago.”

“Well you did a pretty good job of hiding it” he says, moving a little closer to you to the point where your noses were almost touching, the feeling of his breath giving you goosebumps. The music hummed softly in the background as you thought for a second.

“Sam don’t hate me but we’re both kinda drunk and I don't wanna do anything right now. I wanna be there for it, like fully there.”

“I was actually hoping you’d say that. I wanna take in every detail and remember it all. You’re not just another drunken hookup.”

You can’t help but give a soft smile, your cheeks going red.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be opposed to a bit of cuddling”

“Neither would I” he says as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close as you bury your head in his chest, taking in his scent.

Something overtakes you, and you tilt your head up and press a soft kiss to his collarbone.

“Goodnight Samuel”

“Goodninght kid” he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head, and you can feel him breathing in your scent as well, elated to finally feel wanted.

********************************************************************************************************

You wake up to sunlight streaming through your curtains, turning to look at your clock but instead being met with Sam’s chest.

You were sober enough last night to remember everything that happened, Sam’s feelings for you coming to light and vice versa. It made you almost giddy with excitement, not being able to wait until his eyes opened.

You played with his hair, running your fingers through it and moving it from his neck, replacing it with your lips. Soon enough he’s stretching his arms and yawning.

“Any reason you needed to wake me up at 7 am?” he asked you, looking down at you as the pad of his thumb brushed across your cheek.

“Just couldn’t wait to see you I guess”

“That's a first” he says sarcastically, once again staring deep into your eyes.

You could hear the birds singing outside and a refreshing spring breeze made its way into your room through the open window.

You stared at each other for a second longer before he whispered “Can I?”

You nodded your head yes and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in a kiss. It started off sweet and then your lips started moving in a rhythm, his hands grabbing your legs and pulling you onto his lap. He kept kissing you as your tongue made its way into his mouth, causing his hips to buck up into you. You pulled back and let out a soft sigh, basking in the feeling of him growing hard against your core. He took this as an opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, sucking at the delicate skin and leaving little nips.

“Can I take this off?” you ask him, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt.

“Please” he groans against your neck.

You pull it off and instantly your hands run along the expanse of his smooth skin, admiring every freckle and mole, fingertips brushing across his nipples. You pull your hands away to pull your own shirt off, blushing a bit, slightly embarrassed to show yourself to him. He takes a moment to stare at the newly exposed skin, pulling you down into a kiss a moment later and mumbling “You’re absolutely stunning” into your lips.

“You’re not too bad yourself” you say with a smile spreading across your face, quickly losing it as you bite your lip when he starts to move his hips once again, his bulge rubbing deliciously against your already wet core.

“I need more of you” he grunts, obviously frustrated.

You tangle your hands in his hair and pull his head back a bit, looking down into his eyes before saying “then have me”, pulling him into a kiss.

In a swift movement he flips you both over, kneeling with his legs on either side of you.

“These need to come off” he says, tugging at the waistband of the boxers you slept in. As he pulled them off and the cold air hit your core, you couldn’t help but drink all of him in, admiring just how gorgeous he looked, as if he was sculpted by the gods himself. That moment ended when you felt his middle finger run lightly up and down your slit. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling of his skin on yours.

“Please Sammy, I need you” you say, surprised at yourself for using that nickname with him.

He looks at you and smiles before lowering his gaze to your dripping cunt, furrowing his brows as he pushes his long finger inside of you. You mewl as he pushes it down to the last knuckle, letting you adjust for a moment before starting to slowly pump in and out.

“Fuck you’re tight. So much better than I imagined.”

“So you’ve thought about this before?” You smirk at him, turning your eyes to look at the sight of his finger pumping in and out.

“Quite a lot actually, I’ve thought a lot about how you taste too” he says before readjusting himself so his head is buried in between your thighs. It only takes a second for his tongue to find your clit as he inserts another finger and starts to pump a little faster.

“Fuck you’re good at this” you say as you let out a breathy moan, hands once again finding their way into his hair. That causes him to moan around your clit, sending vibrations through your whole body. You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to last, with Sam lapping at you like it’s his last meal.

You pull his hair, forcing his lips to part from your sensitive bud, pulling him into a sloppy kiss.

“I wanna taste you too” you say before getting up and kneeling on the floor in front of your brd, motioning him to sit with his legs over the side, facing you. You look up at him as you pull his boxers down, length hitting his stomach. You take a second to admire it, with its pink head, a large vein running up the bottom. It was a nice length, with quite a bit of girth to it, surrounded by a small patch of pubic hair. As you wrapped your hand around it you said “not to be weird or anything but your dick is gorgeous”, causing him to let out a light laugh that was quickly stifled when you wrapped your head around the tip of his cock. His fingers intertwined with your hair, lightly pulling it, not forcing you down on his dick like some guys do. You gently moved your head up and down, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and using your hand to stroke the rest.

“Fuck I need to be inside of you” he groans, tugging at your hair, causing you to pull your mouth off his dick with a small pop.

“Can I ride you?” you question as you make your way back onto the bed.

“Fuck yes, I can’t promise how long I’ll last though” he says, pulling you in for another kiss as you line him up up with your entrance. You run his tip along your slit a few times before slowly starting to lower yourself down, taking your time to adjust to his size. Once he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he throws his head back, letting out a guttural moan.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“So have I” you say before starting to slowly move yourself up and down on him.

It’s lazy and sweet, not perfect or anything, but nothing about this situation really was. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Fuck” he remarks as he grabs your hips, fingers sinking into your skin,helping you move up and down on his delicious cock.

“You fill me up so perfectly, god you feel so good”

“I guess it was meant to be baby” he says with a grin, putting his fingers in his mouth then moving them down to rub circles around your clit.

“Fuck Kiszka, if you keep taht up I’m gonna cum.”

“That was my goal, I’m close too” he breathes out as he buries his head in your neck.

You clutch the back of his head as you start to move yourself up and down faster, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck Sam I’m gonna cum”

“Me too babe, where do you want me to?” he asks shakily.

The only word you can muster out is “Inside” as you approach your peak, clenching around him once more before tipping over the edge.

It’s complete bliss as you ride out your high, feeling him give one last deep thrust into you before coating your walls with his warm ropes of seed.

You collapse against him, nuzzling your head into his neck, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses as you both catch your breath.

He pushes your hair to the side, leaving his lips on your temple while he remains sheathed inside you.

“Thank you” he says, still regaining his breath and returning to reality.

“Don’t leave me” you say softly into his ear.

“I wouldn’t for the world, don’t you worry kid.”

You sit up and look into his soft brown eyes, taking in how much things have changed in the past few hours.

“I don’t hate you. Not in the least. I just hated the idea of not being with you.”

“Same here, but we don’t have to feel that anymore. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. You deserve the world, and I want to try my hardest to give it to you.”

“Thank you Samuel, I’ll try to do the same.”

You give him one last long kiss before pulling back, pushing his hair behind his ear and saying “C’mon loverboy, let’s go get some breakfast.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It... Till You Make It | Epilogue/Prologue

Fake It | The Masterlist

Warnings | 3.1k // 18+ SMUT , mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff 

Summary //  Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // This is the epilogue of Fake It and the Prologue to Till You make it. This should hopefully set up the story of Till You Make It perfectly; tying the two series together. If you haven’t yet read Fake It, the masterlist for the series is linked above for ease <333 Thank you to everyone who has supported this little adventure of mine <3

It had been two weeks since you'd left the house. Now living permanently with George in the house you were yet to fill with all the things that made it you. Lying in bed as your thoughts raced, taking you back to that pain over and over every time you shut your eyes. George had been perfect, he was there for you every night as you curled into his side, trying to push back all of the negative feelings as you sobbed into his chest. 

Every time George looked at you, guilt washed over him. It wasn't just once but twice now that he was not there to protect you when you needed him the most, his childhood promise to you falling just short of the mark because he let you down. Part of him felt like a failure until he remembered that he was the one who helped you heal the first time and he would be the one to make you feel like yourself again this time. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I promised to and I let you down again." 

"What do you think you're doing now, Silly? You protect me every day."

It killed George to see you as the shell of who you once were, seeing that vulnerable, glazed over gaze into nothingness once again. He knew that your healing would take time and that all you needed from him was his presence, his hold and his kisses. He didn't dare push you or bring anything up that was too much to handle - he simply cared for you as best he could. George however, did a fantastic job at juggling his time, between looking after you and taking full control of the shop while Fred healed too, he began to grow stressed. It was something you noticed in the way his back muscles tensed and in the way he walked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

You pulled yourself from bed, knowing that he was due home soon, taking your initiative for the first time since the incident, to do something nice for him. You walked into your bathroom, putting the plug in the bathtub before beginning to fill it. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, seeing sunken eyes, dishevelled hair and a broken smile staring back at you - How could George continue to love you when you looked like this? Tears threatened to fall as your eyes welled up, you tried your best to hold them back but now you were choking back sobs as you stared at your reflection. 

When George arrived home all he heard were cracking sobs and the sound of running water, he noticed you weren't in the bed and ran into the bathroom to see you hunched over the counter as you cried. He turned the tap off for you before standing behind you. 

"Hey, hey… No tears, Princess, I'm here now." George had pulled you into his arms, your head buried in his chest as you continued to sob, your arms weakly hanging around his hips as you felt your heart squeeze again. 

"I don't know how you could still love me when I look like this." You were looking up at him now, his eyes were warm and comforting as his hand ran up and down your back to soothe you. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead to comfort you as he spoke. 

"Jesus, Y/N, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, you are my slice of heaven on earth and I'll love you every single day of my life." His hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ear before leaning down to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. His kiss leaving you breathless. This was the first time that your kiss had been more than just a peck goodbye in what feels like forever. Being Intimate with George was a feeling that you both craved and missed but it wasn't something he wanted to push you into doing, not until you were ready to let him back in. 

You had convinced George that you were ready to head back out into the world. It was a foreign feeling for the both of you as you walked hand in hand through Diagon Alley. You were proud to be holding on to him, finally able to tell everyone that you were his girl. The press had caught sight of you as you arrived together at the Joke shop, snapping away as you noticed that a new shop was opening on the street as people helped cart in huge boxes and beautiful ornate decorative items into the empty space. George caught your gaze and filled you in on the latest gossip among shop owners. 

"It's a new dress Boutique, she's moved back down to London - Lee's friend… I can't remember her name but she was the Hufflepuff Prefect in our year, you know who I mean?" You nodded, looking over your shoulder to see the girl in question her hair pulled back by a piece of ribbon and you immediately remembered her. 

"That shop has been vacant for ages, It'll be nice seeing a new business here." You responded, with a smile spreading across your lips, stopping the boy before he went to open the door, pulling him in for a kiss. The report on Cherry's death and the inquest into her fixation on ruining your life had hit the Daily Prophet the week prior - leaving you free to explore the more public aspects of your relationship with George. With there now being no worry about being caught or recognised, all you wanted to do was kiss your boyfriend out in the open, so you did. 

You slowly got back into Quidditch, attending more practices and eventually friendly games. The papers, the fans and your team were all grateful to have you back, and frankly you were glad to be back. You used quidditch as a way of channelling your aggression and anger; you were at your peak performance and had absolutely smashed the record for the fastest snitch capture in history. 

You had just sort of felt like maybe life was getting back to normal and you started visiting George's family home more often. You were sat in the burrow's kitchen with Molly, talking about the stupid things your boyfriend does, and as you found out, in fact has been doing since his childhood, as if his ears were hot, he came running in, smirk plastered on his face. 

"Fancy joining us for a quidditch game?" You smiled at your boyfriend who was leaning with both hands on the table next to you. You reached up to place your hand on his jaw, thumb running over the apple of his cheek. 

"Come on then, I want to be your team though Georgie." Your boyfriend blushed at your words and actions combined, even though you had been together for so long, the public aspect of being so openly affectionate with each other felt like new, bringing a whole new honeymoon period into your relationship once more. 

The teams were simple. You, George and Fred on one team and Harry, Ginny and Ron on the other while Hermione and Lee watched on from the side-lines. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present; the golden snitch." George beams, holding it up for all to see. 

"We only have teams of three, George, having a Seeker won't work." Ron chimed, only to receive a glare and elbow to the ribs from Ginny who nodded towards the snitch. 

"Y/N and Gin are the seekers for today, no beaters just chasers and keepers." You smiled up at your boyfriend, who sent you a wink. Being able to catch the snitch should be a walk in the park for you, even after your months away from the game. The six person game was intense, Ginny did put up a fight for the snitch and you weren't even keeping track of the score. The moment your fingertips wrapped around the flitting snitch, you were flying back to the ground, Cheering as George joined you, picking you up and spinning around. 

You hadn't even noticed the mechanical openings of the snitch until you looked back down at it in your hands. You noticed that inside lay a beautiful princess cut diamond ring, when you pulled it from the hold turning around to question George, he was already on one knee. You felt all of the butterflies in your stomach threaten to spill out, the feeling of being surrounded by your closest friends in that moment filled you with joy.

"Y/N, without you I wouldn't be half the man I am today. You have taught me to be strong, to push through when times are tough and more importantly you taught me how love feels - how it's scary and messy but pure. I've never known that I've wanted to do something so quickly as knowing that I wanted to marry you. This is my promise of forever to you, no matter what. So my love, will you marry me?"

You were nodding before the words ‘yes’ could leave your lips, his hands found the ring to slip it on your left ring finger, before smiling up at you. This was the most romantic way George could have proposed, doing something you love and in front of your closest friends and family. The way he kissed you after that was so full of passion and pure unmovable love that you weren't sure how you got so lucky. 

When you arrived home that evening you truly felt the ache between your thighs for the man you would soon be calling your Husband. You practically jumped into his arms the minute you were in your shared home, legs wrapped around his hips and lips pressed firmly against his as your hands tangled into his hair. The fire of nearly seven years of love was roaring wild inside of you, the high of the engagement making you more confident than ever before. 

"I'm ready, George." The simple words made any of his inhibitions melt away. He swore blind to you that he wouldn't even push intimacy until you were truly ready again. He was a gentleman about it, not even faltering when you pushed him away some months ago; too soon for you. He always made sure that when he kissed you that he didn't get carried away and kept it within himself to check and make sure you were comfortable. 

It wasn't long until you were pressed between your comfortable sheets and your Fiancé's strong body. His hair hanging in his eyes, prompting you to run your fingers through his soft locks and push it out of his face before pulling him in for another kiss, mumbling small soft breaths of 'i love you' every time your lips parted. George took his time in undressing you, making sure that he kissed every inch of exposed skin as he explored the body he knew all too well. This was far from the sex with George that you had grown accustomed to; desperate and fast in fear of getting caught, but now with nobody to catch you or disturb you, you already felt in heaven. 

George's lips travelled down your body, fingers tugging down your underwear in the process until his lips met where you craved them most. The second his tongue was lapping at your clit, pleasure rushed all through you, hand immediately finding his hair once again, only this time you gave it a tug. The way he hummed against your cunt as his tongue darted in and out of you had you on the edge of your release in minutes. His words of encouragement pushed you over, coming undone with just his tongue. 

"That's it, good girl, I've got you." His fingers found your clit, circling over the sensitive bud as you came for him, your eyes were locked together as you reached to pull his shirt over his head, showing you his toned chest with a smirk. You were going to sit up and pull him free, but his hand on your shoulder held you to the bed. 

"I won't break, George, I can touch you without breaking." He nodded, pulling himself down to kiss you again, your hands found his cock quickly, pulling him from the confines of his joggers without enough time for him to protest, your hand wrapping around his length as you used your hands to get him off. You pushed him up and off the bed so that he was standing before sinking to your knees before him. You took as much of him as you could, even down your throat as you gagged for him, knowing it's a sound that sets off something inside him. He was restraining himself from fucking your mouth like he loved to do and despite your eyes begging him to, he pulled himself away, pulling you up by the chin to press your lips together. 

Being completely naked together with George didn’t happen often, but now as your two naked bodies were pressed skin to skin with each other, you had never felt more intimate. He had sheathed himself fully inside you, the tip of his cock pressed right to the back of you, each slow thrust had you moaning out long chants of his name. Your hands were interlaced and foreheads pressed together as he showed you just how much you meant to him; love pouring from every deep thrust as he fucked you slowly into the sheets. You didn't think he could get any deeper until you felt him in your stomach, reaching every intimate area. 

"Can you feel how deep I am, Princess? Does it feel good?" you were nodding quickly, a moaning mess beneath him. The only words you managed to stutter out were his name and please, begging for more of him. You loved hearing him moan, hell, it was such a godly sound you were sure that you were the luckiest girl in the world to be able to hear them. 

His hips hit a different angle, stretching you out perfectly as he filled you to the hilt once again, completely bottomed out as your thrust met each others. You weren't sure how many times he'd made you cum but you were ready to release for him all over again. Your lips found his ear, pressing delicate kisses to the lobe as you begged him, moaning breathlessly into his ear. 

"Please George, I need it." Your hands were guiding his to press against your throat, he gulped, unsure if you were ready but when he met your pleading eyes, he gave in, his deep sloppy thrusts turned to a quick, needy fuck like you were both used to. Leaving you a moaning mess for him as he fucked you senseless into your sheets, until you were squeezing around him and your nails were raking down his back. George would give you everything you wanted if you gave him the opportunity. You felt another orgasm build from the way his hand alone would control your breathing, let alone how deep he was hitting with every quick thrust. 

"You want me to fuck a baby into you, Princess?" his gentle words sent you over the edge as you felt him twitching inside of you. He didn't care that you were on birth control, it was the notion of releasing his load deep inside you alone that made his heart swell. His persuasive words had you begging for it, you needed him to cum. 

You were both breathing heavily as you lay side by side, your head on his chest as you studied the rise and fall, tracing circles on the exposed skin when you noticed the shiny diamond gleaming on your finger; a smile immediately finding your lips. Solace found you in that moment, there was no more hiding the love that you had with George, no more faking a love you didn’t feel with Fred, no Cherry - finally happy in a moment shared between you and the man you loved. Your Forever. 

Fred through all this time had been watching George plan the proposal from the background, painting a fake smile across his face for every social appearance. The older twin did a brilliant job at convincing everyone around him that he was fine, simply shaken up by the trial, but nevertheless fine. Every day he would wake up with salty tears dried to his cheeks, his throat dry and hoarse, trying his best to smile and get on with his day. Fred has been consumed to a shell of who he used to be, with nobody to help him deal with his emotions.

Every now and again he’d show up at the burrow, his mother taking him into her arms as he choked down tears. He felt like a child that couldn’t be consoled, not even a hug or the greatest food could fill the hole in his heart he felt watching the woman he loved be proposed to by his twin brother; to see you so infatuated with one another that every touch and look he would observe tugged at his heart strings, the pain only becoming less and less severe as he dove into a pit of his own despair.

Nobody had seen the older twin in weeks; therapy sessions missed, calls and messages went nowhere, George would come up to check on him every day after the store closed, he noticed things would go untouched for days on end as he locked himself in his room. Behind the door Fred would be curled up under the covers, realising what he’d done couldn’t ever leave him. He had killed Cherry and she was no longer here, so why did she still continue to plague his every thought?

“Freddie nobody has seen you since we went to mum’s, I- we’re worried.” George was pleading with his brother from behind the door, he heard the hurt in his twin’s voice and immediately felt as if he had let his family down, that sinking feeling in his heart growing stronger. 

“It’s Mine and Y/N’s engagement party this weekend, you don’t have to come but… It’ll be good to see you Fred. I miss you, Lee misses you, Y/N misses you. We all do. Just think about it.” Fred heard his brother’s footsteps grow quieter and the front door slam shut. The word engagement singed his heart, like whatever cord was wrapped around the organ had been pulled tighter. He knew that If he didn’t go he would be missing a massive part of George’s life and that feeling hurt him way more than any broken heart could. He was going, even if it broke his heart. 

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[iliveiloveiwrite]

make up lies and say goodbyes and meet me at the door // J.P. (celebration fic)

Request: James, secret relationship, angst 13, fluff 8. The burrow? Idk u can pick. But please let it have a happy ending 🥺. I’m fragile 😂 - @leahstypewriter

Angst 13: “All I wanted was a happy ending.”

Fluff 8: “Marry me?”

A/N: Title is from Emily Kinney - Married (I also use a lyric in this). I think I need to google the definition of ‘blurb’ because I keep writing fics and they just get longer and longer! This is my first time writing for James with anything longer than a headcanon so I’m not wholly confident on this piece - however, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none - FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFF.

Word count: 1.8k

Spring time at the Burrow is a sight that one cannot experience simply on their first visit. It takes a few visits to the home of the Weasley family for it to truly settle in that the home is a home. The christening of the entire Weasley brood was something to witness that once could only witness once; Molly Weasley controlling her children with an expert hand as they all lined up in the church. It was a lovely ceremony to see.

James sat by your side through it all; so close you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. All through the service, you had to restrain yourself from straddling the man in a place of worship. It wouldn’t be good for the vicar, and it wouldn’t good for the fact that you hadn’t gone public yet.

Returning to the Burrow, a marquee had been put up for party-goers. Following the rest of the guests, you find the long dark hair marking Sirius, and make a note of which table he sits down at. You make your way to the buffet table; grabbing a plate and whatever food you can. You only feel more ravenous at the sight of it; barely having time this morning to eat as with each attempt to leave the bed, James only pulled you back down.

You don’t have to see James to know that it’s him standing next to you. The charged atmosphere between the two of you is what alerts you to his presence.

A slight brush of his fingers against yours as he reaches for a plate of food. A slight brush of his fingers and it’s enough for you to crave all of his attention. He quirks his eyebrow at your obvious intake of breath; he knows what he does to you and he enjoys winding you up the best he can.

You take a seat next to Sirius; ignoring the way James sends a pointed look in your direction. Sirius immediately draws you into conversation with him and Remus, laughing over the rim of his drink. Sirius takes it upon himself to point out the members of the Weasley family stemming from the House of Black – he points towards Arthur’s mother, Cedrella and introduces her as his great-aunt somewhere along the lines of three or four times removed. You snort at Sirius’ lack of accuracy to which he points out that for the last few years, he had been living with James until he got his own place.

Shaking your head, you turn away from Sirius, careful not to catch eyes with James for the fear of not being able to control yourself once again. Your eyes dance around the marquee; happy to have been invited to such an event – an added extra by Sirius who didn’t want to face the extended and disowned side of his family alone.

Your eyes continue to travel around the marquee; taking in the decorations lovingly made by the Weasley children as well as the children themselves. The five young boys seemed to be running amok – their laughter filling the air as they race each around the tent. You can’t help but smile at the sight; each boy looking so happy.

It wasn’t something you realised you yearned for. A family. But watching Molly chase after her children with the largest smile on her face; watching Arthur lift young George onto his shoulders, you realise that you yearned for it all.

The wedding, the house, the family. Everything. You longed for it all to be with James; you felt silly for wanting this so early in your relationship, but just by being in his very presence it was hard not to want to spend an eternity with him.

All day it had been hard to find a moment for yourselves even when the party had moved from the marquee to the house; wanting nothing more than to spend a few minutes alone with James, but each time you got close, you were pulled in another direction by a child or by one of Sirius’ relatives to meet another aunt or uncle.

It was draining.

Keeping your relationship secret was a mutual decision; especially in the early months – the relationship was barely three months old; you were still in the process of getting to know one another romantically and work out how well you clicked together. The long friendship beforehand definitely helped, but keeping James to yourself was something you needed to do.

The atmosphere in the house becomes stifling the more you think about your relationship. You stand from your seat, sending a small smile in James’ direction when he looks over to you with a puzzled expression on his face. Your smile does nothing to calm the concern he feels as he watches you walk out the door, wondering what caused this change.

The evening air is warm when you step outside to catch your breath. Sitting down on one of the many benches, you take in gulps of the fresh air.

“Love?” James’ voice sounds. He takes a tentative seat next to you on the bench, carefully placing his hand between the two of you – knowing he cannot reach out to take you in his arms but wanting you to know that he would if he could.

“I’ve never seen somewhere so beautiful,” You murmur absentmindedly; eyes pouring over the horizon of the slowly setting sun.

James hums in agreement, “It is lovely here.”

You don’t reply. You aren’t entirely sure what else to say to him; instead, you keep your focus on the horizon – the sun setting, the bright and sweet smelling flowers, the beginnings of a vegetable patch. It’s a little slice of heaven, you realise.

“Do you want to talk about earlier?” James prompts. Keeping your secret from everyone was not the endgame, but the both of you simply desired some time to yourselves – to learn each other, to get used to each other, to selfishly love each other before letting other people interfere.

“All I wanted was a happy ending, James. I’m finding hard to keep us a secret when I’m so desperate for a happy ending.”

He grips your hands with such ferocity you’re worried he’ll break the bones, “Then let’s have a happy ending.”

“What do you mean?”

“Marry me?”

The breath leaves your body in one huff, “What?”

“Marry me.”

“James, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s only been a few months.”

“And? I’m certain of this and I’m certain of you. Would you marry me and always be mine?”

You bite your lip; thinking of every outcome that could fall from your marrying James. There could be no denying your feelings for the man; they were something you had felt for over a year until he asked you out to dinner. The yearning you felt earlier was back; churning in your gut as begin to think of a future with James as your husband through sickness and health, till death do you part. 

You smile widely at James, “Let’s make our excuses and go.”

“Why?”

“I want to marry you James Potter, and I want to marry you now.”

James’ eyes glisten with unshed tears at your words, and he rushes off to find the lads and the Weasley’s to thank them for the offer of staying, but you both really must rush off as you have an early start at work, and he has an early morning meeting that he cannot miss.

Sirius furrows his brows at James’ words but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns to you with nothing but curiosity burning in his gaze. You smile softly at the man who had become something akin to a brother through your time with the marauders; through your time with James.

“Do you want us to set up a floo?” Molly asks kindly, bouncing a half asleep Fred on her lap.

You shake your head, “We’ll apparate back, we don’t mind. It saves on powder then.”

Molly nods; smiling at the two of you.

You say your goodbyes to the rest of the Marauders; they comment that they’ll see you tomorrow. You hold out your hand to James; he takes it and in less than a second, you’ve left the Burrow.

---------

James runs down the steps of the town hall; puffing slightly from how many there are, “It’s closed. We have to come back tomorrow for a license.”

“I get that, but why do you look so sad?”

James laughs, tugging you to him, “I really wanted to marry you tonight.”

Your thumb rubs across his cheek, “We still can, love.”

“How?”

“Well are the two of us present? We can do the official paperwork and aisle walking another day, but we can always say our vows to one another right now.”

“Right now?”

“Right now,” You confirm, “What do you think? Do you still want to marry me?”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

Underneath the now twinkling stars, vows are whispered, and make-do rings are created from some twine found in James’ pocket. Underneath the night sky, you pull him for your first kiss as husband and wife – the both of you making it difficult from the smiles on your faces.

It isn’t official – far from it. There are no witnesses; no minister. Only you, James, and the stars. But it’s perfect.

“When do we tell the lads? When do we tell our parents?”

“We’ll call them with our news in the morning, but for now…” You trail off with a sly smile.

“For now?”

“You’re all mine.”

-----

You wake up in James’ arms to the sound of crashing in your kitchen and the tell-tale swearing of Sirius Black. “James,” You groan, “Your friends are in the kitchen.”

James yawns, “I know. They woke me too.”

You sigh, opening your eyes, “Do we go down together?”

He nods, “Why not? They’re going to find out anyway.”

You stretch, “I like the sound of that.”

James smiles sleepily, “You know what I like the sound of?”

“What?”

“Kissing my wife good morning.”

You laugh; happily obliging the wish of your husband.

Yawning, you follow James downstairs where you meet Remus, Sirius and Peter clattering about in the kitchen, making a racket as they try to make some breakfast. They each call out their own greeting; their eyes not missing the way you came downstairs together.

“Where did you two rush off to last night?” Sirius asks; a smirk on his face.

“We got married,” James states clearly; leaving no room for any misunderstanding.

Remus chokes on his drink; Sirius drops his mug of tea; Peter silently moves the frying pan off the hob to save the food from burning.

“You did what?” Sirius all but yells.

James reaches for your hand, “We didn’t get married, married. But we will be doing today.”

Sirius remains speechless; eyes flitting between you, James and your joined hands, “When did you get together?”

You look at James, “Almost three months ago.”

“And you didn’t tell us then?”

You shrug, “We wanted to keep it to ourselves for a while.”

Remus nods, “ I get that, but getting married so soon? Are you sure?”

The both of you nod; only looking at each other, “We’re sure.”

Sirius claps his hands together, calling the room’s attention to him, “Then we better get ready.”

********

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[beyondstupidityblog]

On March 13th 2021, two friends and I did what never could have imagined possible, I watched Freddy Got Fingered for the ninth time, and it will by no means be the last. I’m explaining this to you, dear reader, so you and I have an important understanding between us. You will be reading the ramblings of one whose brain has curdled like milk left out in the hot afternoon sun. Now that introductions are out of the way, let us begin.

Freddy Got Fingered is a 2001 Comedy starring and directed by Tom Green as the Non-Titular Gordon Brody; an aspiring animator who goes to California to realize his dream, only to be constantly crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Sounds tame at first, but what lies beneath the veneer of mediocrity is truly impressive. Completely bombed,  audiences hated it, and critics loathed it. Roger Ebert got angry, saying “it isn’t even below the bottom of the barrel” and “Green should be flipping burgers somewhere.”. “Tasteless”, “appalling”, “offensive”, “gross”, and “poo poo,” are just some of the things people have had to say about this film. Animal genitalia can be seen on screen for much longer than anyone could have expected, Tom Green swinging a baby akin to a morning-star with its umbilical cord, said umbilical cord being stolen and taped onto his stomach, gratuitous caning of a nymphomaniac paraplegic, and the dissection of a deer carcass. It is an abrasive experience that leaves a terrible taste in the mouths of those who mention it. Nonetheless, I love this movie. 

You ever see a contemporary art exhibit that has a piece that just looks like garbage somebody left out but in actuality is a tongue-and-cheek allusion to the pitiful state of modern art? That garbage is Freddy Got Fingered, and that exhibit is Hollywood. At face value it just seems like a poorly done film by a comedian trying to use his name to get a few butts in the seats before his irrelevancy arrives, but when scrutinized as a commentary of comedy films do the pieces start to fall into place. Tropes like the Protagonist being an unremarkable honkey, gross-out designed to get some cheap quick chuckles, side-characters who occupy the space solely for comedic relief, a shoe-horned romantic side-plot, and an equally as shoehorned in happy ending are all present in a mocking fashion. So many of these Hollywood schlockfests that this movie is paying homage to abuse tropes in some vain attempt to trick the audience into thinking they’re having a good time, when in reality it just reminds viewers of films that they’ve already watched before and could be enjoying instead. All of the awkward and uncomfortable scenes of gross-out and romance are purposeful, because nothing is quite as awkward and uncomfortable than a film disengaging the audience with its own mediocrity. “This is what it’s like to endure this trash!” Drunkenly screams Freddy Got Fingered atop the tallest piece of furniture in the room, while also exposing its genitals to keep you from getting too comfortable around it. Unlike the films it is parodying, its obsession with making a fool out of audiences rips them away from the comfort of the cinema, making them genuinely ask if it is worth wasting their time watching a film called Freddy Got Fingered. Even the title is an intentional slight, as it seems to be completely untethered to the actual plotline and is instead a reference to a seemingly inconsequential scene. But then again, that is the point of it all. Tom Green is an artist, and on his canvas is a portrait of Hollywood with all of the ugly little imperfections that cause a movie like this to be created. But this is just the meta-narrative of Freddy Got Fingered, something that you could find all over the internet. Why do I resonate with it so much, and what about it makes it so exceptional that led to this unhealthy fascination?

    Every instance that I’ve rewatched Freddy Got Fingered has always brought about a new side to it, and in the process leaves me craving for more. Gord is an interesting take on the average leading man. He is on the surface bland and inoffensive, made so in order to allow the majority of the audience to immediately identify with him, said group being 20-something skater guys with unrealistic expectations of themselves. Made especially ironic when after the introduction of Gord as an adept skateboarding rebel escaping from authority, he starts to show that in reality he is an unlikeable, bratty, entitled, and all around unpleasant person. Barely a scene passes before we see him masturbate a horse while exclaiming he is a farmer to his father who is not present, seemingly a crude gag but is in reality an insight into his low self worth caused by his imposter syndrome stemming from distant paternal relationship. I would like to remind you, dear reader, that I am still writing of Freddy Got Fingered, in case you were beginning to think I have lost my mind (The answer is yes by the way). All throughout the film Gordon Brody puts on masks for different situations, never allowing himself to be who he is. When infiltrating the Animation studio where he wishes to pitch his cartoons, he pretends to be a mailman to get past reception and then impersonates a police officer when the former stops being effective. Donning the visage of a British Bobby, he dashes into the restaurant where the man he is searching for, Mr. Wallace, is eating. Showing him his cartoons, Wallace is impressed with the potential they have, but says that they are incoherent and lack real substance. Upon rejection, Gord puts a pistol in his mouth before Wallace stops him and advises what he should do to improve. Gord was genuinely ready to blow his brains out the back of his skull if he wasn’t able to get his show greenlit, and it hit me in that moment that he isn’t just some random jackass, but a victim of detrimentally low self-esteem.

The origins of his complex are made apparent when he goes back home to Oregon and are reintroduced to his Family. We see that his father Jim, played by Rip Torn, is disappointed in his return and begins to sneer at him for his failure. This father and son dynamic always has tension in every scene from this point onwards. Gord, who just wants to be accepted for who he is and not judged by what the world expects him to be, is always at the receiving end of Jim’s wrath, who values his idea of a successful life over the happiness of his sons. From here it becomes little wonder why Gord is the way he is, all his life he was told that who he was is not good enough, he has to be what his father wants if he is to be considered worthy of not only love, but being treated with a modicum of dignity. Whenever Gord acts eccentric or divulges his interests to his father, they are met with either resentment supplemented by verbal assault, or physical violence. After a late-night skateboard outing to escape from his father’s wrath goes awry, he visits his convalescing friend in the hospital, whereupon he meets one of the more interesting characters in relation to Gord, the love interest Betty.   

A horny wheelchair bound temptress may not seem like it upon first glance, but Betty is actually the most interesting character out of the entire cast. She feels genuine, introduced as a bored receptionist flipping a coffee creamer idly. Gord immediately strikes up a conversation, whereupon he and the audience find out she has an interest in physics, and apparently an interest in him as well. Betty is strangely well written for what most considered at the time to be a crass sexual joke, so much so that she would actually be a better protagonist than him. She is everything Gord is not, she’s smart, funny, ambitious, and  kind to a fault. Even her side plot to create a rocket powered wheelchair makes for a much more unique plot than the one given. Even Gord reciprocates this sentiment in their meeting, lying that he is a stockbroker in an attempt to impress her. In fact, sectioning her off as just the dull protagonist's love interest is a jab at how women in these movies are only there to serve in the development for the male protagonist, just nothing more than their muse. Nonetheless, without this relationship the movie would lose a lot of its soul. Romantic chemistry in comedy films is always hit or miss, but Gord and Betty do seem to have it surprisingly. They’re both silly and impulsive, creatively driven to a fault, but just different enough to eek out the best and worst in them. Gord  thinks that what he wants to do with his life is wasteful, but Betty doesn’t. Now I don’t mean that she directly affirms that he is worthwhile like most poorly written love interests would, stroking their lover’s(and by extension the director’s) ego, rather she confronts him with her optimism. He asks if she would feel stupid and like a loser if her experiment failed. Taken aback at first, she questions why she would, relaying that her failures are just as important as her successes. Gord’s self-worth is directly tied to his ability to succeed, whereas Betty doesn’t need this affirmation. Their dialogue further cements how detrimental his father’s overbearingness was to his outlook, and how he is slowly beginning to realize how destructive that mindset is. 

At their dinner date, Jim sees Gord and Betty across the restaurant, then reveals that Gord was lying to both him and her about his office job while poking fun at her disability, leading to a father-son scuffle that throws the entire floor into utter chaos. Cops show up, Gord and Jim are detained, and Betty bails Gord out. Most mediocre comedies at this point would have the love interest be upset that her significant other lied to her, leading to him having to make things right to repair their relationship before the happy ending. Breaking the mold, Betty does not get angry with Gord even a smidgen, choosing to be understanding of his situation now that she caught a glimpse into his home-life. She just plain likes Gord, willing to put up with him more than she really should, but still chooses to look past his lies and self-destructive nature for who he truly is, someone who just wants to be accepted by the world around him. Someone just like her.

Right after that enaction of social terrorism performed by the Brody father and son duo, they decide it would be best to go to family therapy and assail the audience with what I fondly refer to it as, “The Scene.” “The Scene” is Freddy Got Fingered’s statement to the world, it is what instills a man with the impetus to rewatch a glorified stoner daydream for the ninth time and leave him wanting more! Gord accuses his father, in a final act of defiance, of molesting his younger brother Freddy. During the ensuing confusion Gord picks up a bust of Sigmund Freud and throws it into the glass window pane, allowing him to escape into the evening sun. The authorities take Freddy away and send him to The Home for Molested Children, and the family slowly unravels from then on. Besides the heavy handed metaphor of Freud’s theories being used as a way for Gord to escape his predicament while simultaneously discrediting them, “The Scene” also recontextualizes Freddy, innocuous of a character as he is, as Gord’s foil. He is in the movie very little but when he is it is to serve one of two purposes: To be compared to Gord, or to be treated as an object. During breakfast much earlier in the film after a fight between Gord and Jim, Freddy tries to explain to his brother that he should grow up. Gord, surprisingly, talks down to him and halts the conversation.

Gord: “He's driving me insane.”

Freddy: “No. No, you're driving him insane. You're older than me and you still live at home. I have a job, you know. I pay my own way.”

Gord: “You work in a bank. Should I be dazzled?”

Freddy: “Well, at least I don't live at home!”

Gord: “No, you live in a tiny shithole and you come here to eat for free.”

With these lines it is plain to see that despite Freddy’s idea of success directly lining up with his father’s, he is even more pitiful than Gord. What little we know of him is to show that his acquiescence to his father’s expectations has left him bereft of not only genuine personal success, but of dignity itself. When child protective services come to take him away, he is half naked, mouth agape, watching open heart surgery on television, a palpable indication of emptiness. He isn’t treated as an adult either, as his protests to the police fall on deaf ears as both them and the psychologist infantilize him. Why would Tom Green name this movie after a character like Freddy, whose lack of presence and characterization make him little more than an afterthought when looking back on the story? Or did I just answer my own question? Freddy is not a character because he is not allowed to be one, he is just too passive and accepting of his circumstances for him to stand out. All he can be is a doll that Jim uses to dress up as the perfect son, and this passiveness leads to Gord, the “failure,” to both pity and resent what he let himself become. That’s why Gord accuses their father of molesting him, after all he does narratively violate Freddy’s autonomy by consistently making decisions for him. Evidently enough, as soon as Gord dons a suit for a quick bit Jim is elated because he believes that his son finally gave in to his demands for him to get a job, because he is acting more like his obedient brother. In this sense Freddy is the most tragic member of the Brody clan, a literal manchild whose growth was stunted by overbearing guardians. When I think of him, a bonsai tree comes to mind. Sure, it looks healthy, but when you realize that it could have grown into a much bigger plant if it were not for its small pot, that realization of wasted potential comes with a tinge of melancholy.

I want to end this essay with a moral that I took away from Freddy Got Fingered, as strange enough as that sounds, and what it has to say about art as a whole. Put simply, this is a story about revenge. Despite and because of his Father’s harsh ways, Gord managed to take from the trauma he sustained throughout his life and sublimated it into his animation. Creation not only lets him heal, but also acts as retaliation against Jim once he becomes successful. So long as you have the drive to prove everyone’s doubts and admonishments wrong by persevering out of wicked spite, you will have the last laugh. Freddy Got Fingered is a story about revenge through artistic expression, and I think that is quite beautiful.

[michellewritesthings]

Silent Treatment

Word Count: 1,763

A/N: I decided to do a romantic tfic and see how people react to it. The spacing is a little off (or maybe it’s just me?) if it really is, sorry about that! I hope you enjoy! ~Michelle 🤍

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not really a normal day in The Mind Palace today. Virgil and Logan have gone out to get some errands done which left Patton and Roman home alone. They always enjoyed and appreciated their alone time together. Usually when they were with the other two sides, everything was still normal but, they’d much rather watch movies, cook, listen to music among other things alone together. I mean that’s what all people in relationships want.

It was around 11 a.m. Roman had just come out of the shower and walked downstairs to see Patton laying on the couch going through the channel guide, patiently waiting for his boyfriend to come and give him attention.

“Hey handsome.” Roman said catching Patton off guard as he flinched at his voice.

“Hi honey. You scared me.” Patton responded smiling. Roman chuckled at his reaction.

“I’m sorry, my darling. I’ll be there in a moment. I just want to make some coffee and-“ Roman was cut off by a loud whine and a pout from Patton. Roman smiled and shook his head.

“Pat, I’ll be there in a sec-“ He was cut off again by a louder whine as Patton reached out to him making grabby hands. Roman sighed.

“Patton. Please let me get a cup of coffee? It’ll only take me a few minutes.” They both had a staring contest for a few moments until Patton’s pout worsened and he crossed his arms and let out a soft ‘hmph’.

“Fine…” Patton said, sounding very upset. Roman smiled his way as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Thank you, my love.” Roman quickly made his coffee, which took him 5 minutes at max, and made his way over to the couch to see a pretty upset Patton laying on his back, staring at the ceiling with a pretty big pout on his face. Roman took a sip of his coffee then put it down on the table and sat on one end of the couch.

“I told you it’d take me a few minutes! Now, you have my undivided attention.” Roman patted Patton’s calf in which he gave him no response.

“Pat. What’s wrong?” He asked as Patton continued staring at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest, pout very visible. Roman now knew what he was doing. He was mad that he went to the kitchen and he didn’t give Patton the attention he craved. He mentally face palmed himself.

“C’mon, darling! Don’t be mad at me. I’m back now and we can do whatever it is you want to do.” Roman smiled as Patton finally looked at him, then looked back at the ceiling. Roman now knew what to do.

“Alright fine. You wanna give me the silent treatment? I’ll deal with it the way I always have.” Roman then sat up and flopped himself over Patton’s body. He then gently tried uncrossing Patton’s arms but Patton had resisted. Roman raised his eyebrows at the smaller side.

“Patton, don’t make this worse for yourself.” Roman warned but Patton wasn’t phased by the warning tone in his voice. Roman shrugged then smirked.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t give you the chance to save yourself.” Roman started off small. Using his hands to slowly crawl up Patton’s sides, making sure to wiggle his fingers as much as he could but still having the tickling feeling as soft as it could be. Patton immediately started to squirm but refused to look at his boyfriend or uncross his arms to protect himself. But Roman wouldn’t take his eyes off Patton. And he knew that Patton could feel him staring at him with that shit eating smirk on his face. He could also feel Roman’s chin resting comfortably on his stomach. As soon as he reached Patton’s ribs, he stayed right there for as long as his could until he could feel Patton’s legs start to gently kick against the couch.

“I’m getting the feeling that this is getting to you, Patton. I feel like it’s best you just let go and talk to me. This’ll all be over quicker if you do.” Roman said as he started wiggling his fingers faster, making sure to hit every single rib. He kept that up for a few more minutes until he got impatient and decided to go for the kill. Roman spidered his fingers up Patton’s arms and he felt the goosebumps on his arms and was happily satisfied with his work so far. Then his fingers went under Patton’s chin. Roman only used one hand under his chin this time and used his blunt, short fingernails to lightly scratch as fast as he could. While laying on top of him, Roman could feel Patton starting to hold back his giggles. The movement of Patton’s body shaking from the need to let all those giggles and squeals out.

“Oh dear. Does someone have something trapped inside his tummy? Could it be giggles? Are the giggles trapped inside there, honeybee?” Roman cooed in Patton’s ear as he watched him start to blush.

“Would you like me to help you get all those precious giggles out?” Patton shook his head.

“I think you do want my help. Don’t you worry, I’m here to save the day!” And just like that, Roman’s fingers from both hands rapidly started scratching all over Patton’s neck, making sure to get under and behind his ears and trace the outside of each one. Patton’s head moved side to side as he shut his eyes tight to avoid Roman’s gaze. Now he was getting REALLY impatient so he decided to use what got to Patton most.

“Coochie, coochie, coochie, coo~” Roman teases right next to Patton’s ear. He heard him start to struggle in his attempt to keep his laugh in. Roman got as close to Patton’s right ear and pressed a feather light kiss right in the center.

“MWAH!” Patton finally broke down and let every single giggle out, along with some squeals and snorts as he thrashed his head back and forth. As Roman let out his most evil yet silliest of laughs as his fluttering fingers would leave his boyfriend’s neck.

“ROHOHOMAN! GEHEHET AWAHAHAHAY FROM THEHEHERE!!” Patton squealed as he started attacking his neck with kisses, making sure not to miss one inch of skin.

“Nope! You wanted to give me the silent treatment so this is what you get! Plus, I think there’s still some more giggles trapped in your tummy. I think we should help them come out!”

“NOHOHO!! THERE’S NO MOHOHORE!! NO MOHOHORE GIHIHIGGLES!!” Patton pleaded yet his pleas fell on deaf ears.

Roman grabbed Patton’s wrists when he was taking his deep breath break. He held them tightly in one hand while he put his other hand down to lift Patton’s shirt up. He then leaned his head down and pressed his ear to Patton’s tummy, Patton started laughing lightly at Roman’s silliness more than anything else at this point.

“Oh yeah, my love, they’re in there alright! And they’re really loud too! They sound something like ‘HEE! HEE HEE! HEE!’” As Roman imitated Patton’s trapped giggles, he was poking and fluttering his fingers all over Patton’s sides and occasionally lifting his arms to poke at his armpits which made him start to kick again.

“Okay! Time to get those giggles out of there and help you feel better! How’s that sound?” Patton then saw Roman take a deep breath as he looked him straight in the eye. Patton started pulling at his wrists and bucking his hips to knock Roman off of him.

“Nohoho. Ro, plehehease no… I’m sohohorry.” Patton breathed out. Roman then winked at him.

“Oh don’t worry. You will be.” He finally ducked down and blew a raspberry as hard as he could right in the center of Patton’s tummy. Patton screamed and kicked his legs, bucked his hips, pulled at his wrists, twisted his torso and anything else he could do to get away from the feeling. Roman sat up, without letting go of his wrists just yet. He still had one final surprise in mind.

“Whew! We got most of them out, Pat. But… I still hear a few. I think it’s time to break out one of my weapons to extract giggles from precious tummies like yours.” Roman then lifted one pointer finger in Patton’s direction. Patton tried to suck his stomach in as much as he could but Roman followed.

“What if I just pushed this little button right down here? What do you think it would do, my love~?” Roman smirked.

“Rohohoman! Nohoho! Honey, plehehease!” Patton giggled out. Roman got closer and closer to his belly button.

“I’m gonna get it~.”

“Get away from ihihit!”

“I’m gonna touch that adorable little button right there~.”

“Nohoho you’re nohohot!”

“Get ready. I’m gonna boop it~!”

Roman’s ginger was now hovering over Patton’s belly button, wiggling it side to side.

“Time to get the giggles out.” Finally, he stopped teasing and dug his finger into his belly button and made a sound that sounded similar to rolling his ’R’s, which he found weird but Patton loved it. Patton screamed at the top of his lungs but made no attempt to escape until a few minutes afterwards.

“YOU WIHIHIN!! YOU WIN!! I GIHIHIVE UP!!” Patton squealed and Roman stopped immediately. Roman slipped Patton’s glasses off and wiped the tears of joy off his cheeks and lenses and put them back on gently. Roman couldn’t stop staring at his adorable smile, that giggle high look in his eyes, those roses cheeks and leftover giggles.

“I think all the giggles escaped from your tummy, wouldn’t you agree?” Patton merely nodded in agreement.

“And I got that pout off your face and got you to break the silent treatment.” Roman smiled and went to get off of Patton but was dragged back down by his desire to go into his grabby hands, finally. He teased him and bent down slowly. Patton couldn’t wait any longer as he wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck and hugged him tight. Roman chuckled and hugged back. After a few minutes, he finally sat up but Patton grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him back down for a probably too long kiss. After a minute or two they broke out and sat up next to each other.

“Hey.” Patton broke the silence.

“Yes?”

“The next time I tell you to give me attention, just come and give me attention if you don’t want the silent treatment.” Roman booped his nose.

“Deal.”

[oneboxofmatches]

Hey there! I was wondering if I could get a matchup for mcu and both eras of Harry Potter? I'm a straight female so I'd prefer a male please!

Physical description - I'm 5'9 and I have long wavy dark brown hair and brown eyes. I have a fair skin tone, I'm slim and I've got full lips, slight dark circles under my eyes which make my eyes look slightly bigger than they are and I have a dimple on my right cheek. I've got broad shoulders and I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats! I also love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down.

Personality description - It takes me a while to feel comfortable around new people but once I do, I get really talkative and outgoing. I'm the therapist friend and I love helping people out! People come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'm smart and ambitious, I love being the best at everything I do. I'm also a hopeless romantic and I love being in love! I can be quite dramatic and stubborn and I tend to be withdrawn at times. I get frustrated easily and I'm competitive.

Placements- I'm a ravenclaw, my mbti is infp and my enneagram is 4w3

Likes - I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, mischief, joking around and having indepth discussions on different topics. I daydream quite a bit and I can get lost in my own world for hours.

Hobbies - I love reading, my favorite genres are fantasy and poetry. I also love learning about new things and collecting knowledge! I'm very interested in psychology, history, mythology and folklore, and fashion. I adore all forms of art. I like cooking and baking very much and I also find cleaning up very relaxing.

What I look for in a partner - A sense of belonging and being loved first and foremost, I've always craved that. I'd love someone who is intelligent, intriguing and exciting, someone who makes me feel alive? I'd like loads of fun, humor, banter coupled with times of sincere intensity, passion and understanding! I'd also like to be able to talk and discuss different things, silly or serious

What I look for in a friend - Nothing very specific, some common interests between us, someone who loves having fun and is humorous, loyal and supportive.

Thank you very much!! I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️

Thank you so much for requesting! I'm sorry it's taken this long -- college just started up and it's been a beautiful mess haha.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

WAITLIST

--Marvel Cinematic Universe--

I romantically pair you with…

THOR ODINSON

There’s adventure after adventure in this relationship, and neither of you gets tired of it!

Thor has always been drawn to outgoing individuals, so seeing that side of you come to light once you warmed up to him had him smiling immediately and wanting to know more about you.

A big part of Thor’s identity is helping people, so you could say he values it. Seeing you do that in your day-to-day life convinces him you’re basically the best human alive (and yes, he tells you this many times).

Thor was raised in a place where chivalry wasn’t quite dead, so expect many of your outings as a couple to have some sort of romantic flair (he may not have been the most skilled in courtship, but his enthusiasm more than makes up for it, trust me).

One of your favorite topics to discuss together is mythology, and not just Norse. Thor himself always found interest in the tales he learned from other cultures, so exchanging interesting stories you’ve both heard and researched is an ongoing hobby within your relationship.

While your relationship is undoubtedly fun and exciting, Thor also knows when to dial it back a little for more serious moments. He’s one of the best when it comes to finding that balance between silly and sincere, so you don’t ever have to worry about only getting one or the other.

Overall, Thor adores you, and the conversations (of all moods and topics!) that you two share is what really defines this relationship.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

PIETRO MAXIMOFF

The banter? The adventure? The mischief? This friendship has it all.

A good majority of your conversations involve poking fun at one another. You both love to play up the banter, so it’s nearly impossible to go a day without it.

Pietro loves your competitiveness, ambition, and sense of adventure. In his eyes, these traits make you far more interesting than most of the people he knows. You return the favor, often thanking him for “actually being one of the fun people in this world.”

With a sister who’s known to be a little withdrawn at times, Pietro is actually the perfect friend to have when you feel similarly or even when you’re lost in your thoughts. His brotherly instinct makes him much more patient than you would initially think, and you basically end up becoming like a second sister to him.

Though it took some getting used to on your end, you both love messing around with his super-speed -- you can bet that he’ll carry you whenever you want. The adrenaline alone is enough to give you the heart-racing sensation you crave, and by the end of it you’re both a laughing mess.

Overall, you and Pietro can easily tease each other all day, but don’t ever forget about the endless support that comes out of this friendship too.

--Harry Potter--

In the Golden Trio era, I ship you with…

GEORGE WEASLEY

As talkative as George can be himself, he still doesn’t match up to the blabbing that Fred does. So while he’s definitely able to keep up with your chatty and outgoing nature, he appreciates that you can sometimes take the lead when you’re talking to others.

George is a sucker for anyone who’s a good person doing good things. Seeing you constantly help people out with a smile on your face the whole time puts him in a cheery mood, and he never hesitates to compliment you on putting forth some goodness in the world.

Knowing how much you appreciate the romanticism that comes with being in a relationship, George definitely knows how to go out of his way to do some grand act of love that will always leave you giggling. Just don’t be surprised when he insists you have to sneak out past curfew to see it.

As someone with a rather stubborn and dramatic twin, George knows all the tips and tricks to play off these traits of yours and get you back into a better mood before you have enough time to even think about what’s wrong.

While there’s plenty of witty banter to be found, you and George are also capable of talking about anything for hours. You’ll often start at one topic, and by the time you’ve reached the end of an endless stream of chatter, you’ve touched upon more areas of thought than you could count.

Overall, George is the epitome of the intelligence, intrigue, and excitement you’re looking for, but don’t for a second discount the unhidden passion and loyalty he proudly displays in your relationship.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

FRED WEASLEY

I mean, are we surprised?

While George has taken on the role of standing at his twin’s side in every situation, Fred is usually the one getting them into each situation in the first place. Let’s be honest, you’re probably his second-best scheming partner (after the aforementioned George, of course!!).

You and Fred bring out the most energetic personalities that either of you has to offer. The ambition to do anything is unmatched when you two are together -- and the possibilities are endless!

What’s also unmatched in the banter. It never ends. Never.

While you love having each other as friends, the competitiveness in both of you often makes an appearance. Be prepared for simple tasks to all of a sudden turn into serious competitions that have the power to intimidate anyone in the area.

While it’s admittedly mostly fun and games when it comes to your friendship, Fred will be the first to stand up for you if the need arises. No one messes with his friends. In fact, expect whoever dared to cross you to be suspiciously itchy for the next week, and that's getting off lightly.

Overall, the wit and adventurous spirit shared by you and Fred makes the world a much more mischievous place.

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

SIRIUS BLACK

This relationship can best be described as a whirlwind romance.

You and Sirius take the term “partners in crime” to a whole new level of mischief. It’s always in good fun, but there’s no stopping you two when you get an idea -- Sirius and you are the most prone to sneaking out at night just for the sake of sneaking out.

And you can bet all this adventure only brings the two of you even closer. Sharing a good laugh is the fastest way to grow fonder of each other.

Sirius is quite stubborn himself, but he manages to tone it down when he realizes you’re in this mindset as well. His pride yells at him for it, but he’s willing to put aside his pettiness to address whatever it is that got you to where you were in the first place.

If it isn’t too much, though, expect a lot of teasing from Sirius’s end for his own amusement. He won't push you past your limits, but that won’t stop him from finding those limits in the first place.

Sirius hasn’t always had the sense of belonging he found at Hogwarts, so you can bet he’ll be the one to provide that for you from day one. Sure, your banter sparked a connection immediately, but it’s the passion both of you bring to the relationship that makes it a lasting one.

Overall, your lighthearted approaches to life combined with the dedication you’re both willing to undertake for your relationship makes the bond you have with Sirius one of a kind.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

JAMES POTTER

Hey, someone needs to keep James’s pride in check, and you’re the perfect candidate!

You two will often exchange fast quips at each other as you pass in the corridors, though the real fun begins when you get to sit at a table together. You both always try to one-up each other, though it’s only because you’re so close that this even happens in the first place.

James especially admires your ambition. He’s always found it easier to make connections with people who want the most out of life, and he’s glad he has a friend to seek this out with.

While he probably won’t partake himself, James is always up for chatting with you while you cook or bake. Your banter eases to a crawl during these times, so while you still find ways to tease the other in some way, it’s a much more relaxed setting than normal.

James is the first person to tell you to go for something. He’s a big believer in the idea of “You’ll never achieve anything if you play it safe,” so count on him to be one of your biggest supporters.

Overall, you and James have much in common, and it’s because of this that you can understand each other almost better than anyone.

[johnny-and-dora]

safe from the world, though the world may try

71. “...you wanna build a blanket fort?” requested by @stars-my-darling in which amy experiences a cornerstone of the offical jake peralta boyfriend experience. (early relationship, around 3x04)

read on ao3  -

Amy Santiago is having a bad day.

It’s bad enough that the Vulture is so awful and grossly misogynistic that he’s making her & Rosa plan his birthday party – what’s worse is that she’s actually committed to the task, unable to disobey her captain’s orders in a way that sends self-loathing flooding through her system. She misses Holt, she misses working actual cases – she even almost misses Gina insulting her pantsuits and shredding important papers.

That’s not what’s really bothering her, though. It’s bad enough that she’s exhausted from the end of an insanely dull work week, but it’s worse that she’s barely seen her sweet, adorable, dorky boyfriend at all despite sharing a desk with him. She sighs, rubbing her temples, barely able to muster up the energy to tidy her coat, shoes and bag away as she flops onto her couch.

She can’t fix the Vulture being their captain, and she can’t fix Holt leaving. But at least there’s something she can do about the other major grievance currently darkening her otherwise rosy life.

To: Jake Peralta, 19:47 Can you come over?

From: Jake Peralta, 19:49 omw, be there in 15 everything okay?? xxx

She tries not to overthink the kisses – really, it’s just three characters, and knowing Jake it could just be a typo – but still, it stutters in her weary heart, affecting enough to invite a gentle sincerity into her answer.

To: Jake Peralta, 19:50 Just tired and stressed out And I really want to see you X

They’re still walking the wire in some ways; it’s still relatively early in their romantic relationship, and while they’re both all in (light and breezy now a distant memory), Amy’s always tended to overthink, intent on crafting the perfect text message as if each interaction is something she can win. This time, however, she presses send before she can even double check for grammatical errors - and already feels lighter when she instantly receives a long string of heart emojis in response.

***

She’s pleasantly surprised when she hears an elaborate rap on her door only twelve minutes later. Amy sinks into him almost as soon as he’s through the threshold, arms instinctively wrapping around her in a warm bear hug.

“Hi,” He says softly, pulling away only so they can go cuddle on the couch together, Amy laying her head on his shoulder “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really. Or nothing new, I’m just so sick of the Vulture. Can you believe he wants me and Rosa to plan his birthday party?” Jake pulls a face, groaning in sympathy.

“That’s so gross.”

“I know. I just miss Holt, and I feel like I haven’t seen you all week and everything just kinda sucks when I don’t see you.” She buries her frown into his hoodie for a moment and is confused when she feels him pulling away.

“Okay.” Jake stands up and clasps his hands together, eyes alight in that way when he’s set on something and won’t stop until he gets it. Amy’s spent years fearing that look. “We’re building a blanket fort.”

“We’re…what?”

“Building a blanket fort. C’mon.”

“So, just to be clear, we’re both starving, exhausted adults in our thirties who haven’t seen each other all week and your solution…is to build a blanket fort.”

“Just trust me. Please, Ames?” He pouts, and any irritation instantly falls to the wayside, her reluctance to create an unnecessary mess in her perfectly organised living room easing with a wave of affection for her boyfriend. She sighs but decides to relent.

“I’ll get the comforter.”

It’s almost immediately worth it for the way he cheers, fist-pumping like he just scored the winning try at the Superbowl.

Jake kicks on some cheesy 80’s pop playlist blasting tinny and crackling from his phone and they get to work, Amy emptying her catalogue of sheets, pillows, quilts and blankets into her arms and on to the floor. She quickly loses herself in the task before her, dragging chairs from her dining table to form a sturdy framework, arranging pillows like a goddamn champion inside.

There’s one moment where she gets really excited about lighting, rushing to the back of her closet to grab her Christmas lights – when she next catches Jake’s eye, he’s looking at her with an unabashed fondness that never fails to spread warmth through her whole body.

As with everything else they do together, they make a great team, and they’re done before Jake can make it through the second verse of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun. He beams at her as they step back to admire their handiwork - even she has to admit that it’s a damn good blanket fort, the lights she strung up adding a perfect homely touch.

She’s still curious as to why this is how they’re spending their evening together as they crawl inside, Jake instantly cocooning himself in her favourite fleece blanket. She absentmindedly makes a note to sleep with that one next time they spend a night apart, then cringes at how clingy she’s already become.

“So, pretty cosy, huh. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do. I just…why a blanket fort?” She asks, watching him earnestly as he distractedly plays with the strings of his hoodie, trying to form his answer.

“This is what my Nana would do with me when I was scared or stressed out or sad, about my dad or whatever. Gina too, sometimes, if I let her paint my toenails and choose the movie.” Amy smiles at an image of a young Jake and Gina giggling at a sleepover, throwing candy at each other and sharing scandalous gossip.

“I know it’s kinda silly, but…I don’t know. It always helped me, hanging out someplace safe and warm where the rest of the world couldn’t get to you for a little while. So, I thought it might help you too.” He gently nudges his shoulder with hers, a boyish grin lighting up his face. His honesty and simple sweetness send a quiet thrill through her, stomach fluttering with butterflies instead of anxiety.

“It does.” She admits, smiling softly as she reaches up to cup his face, thumbing over the stubble on his jawline. “Thank you, you’re the best.”

She wants to say more, but she doesn’t know quite how to articulate how at home he already is in her heart. So instead, she kisses him, gentle and honey-sweet. For a moment, it’s as if they’re the only two people in the world and she revels in the intimacy she’s been craving all day, deepening the kiss and touching her forehead to his before her eyes dare flutter open again.

“You’re so welcome.” He grins. “I didn’t know you’d be such a pro, though. The structural integrity of this thing is off the charts. It could probably survive an earthquake.”

Amy glows at the sincerity of his compliment. The more she thinks about it, the more she realises that he’s right – she feels safe, in here, wrapped up in blankets with her favourite person in the entire world.

She always feels safe when she’s with Jake – not the dull, boring safe she was with Teddy, or really any of her long-term relationships before him. Instead, it’s a safety, a certainty, a trust that makes her even more willing to leap without looking back.

“Oh, for the record, everything sucks for me too when I don’t get to see you. You just make everything better.” He gestures loosely, sharpening her focus back to the present – she kisses him again, revelling in the perfect tiny blanket paradise they’ve made.

And just when she thought she couldn’t feel more content, Amy catches him tapping “polish takeaway brooklyn” into his phone and beams, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek.

This isn’t how she expected dating Jake Peralta to be, and yet now she wonders why. He’s probably the only person who’d think to calm her down by building her a fort, and yet he’s the only person who knows her well enough to be certain that it would work. It’s a solution so simple and effective and completely and utterly Jake, and she makes sure to show him just how much she loves that while they wait for their food to arrive.

The delivery guy knocks on the door not long into their make-out session – Amy is delighted to find she’s not the least bit embarrassed as she hastily thanks him, although she does make sure to tip him a little extra. They chat and laugh together in-between mouthfuls and lay back on the pillows when they’re done, Jake idly and soothingly playing with her hair as she rants.

“Hey, Ames?” He says in a sing-song, playful tone after they’ve slipped into a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“What are your thoughts vis-à-vis blanket fort sexy times? For or against? Because I think I could make a pretty great case for- “

She smothers his argument with her lips, a neat new trick she’s still very much enjoying – and it’s a true mark of her adept construction skills that when they're done the fort still remains wholly intact.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

until you count all the petals 

[sylvain gautier x reader]

author’s note: this is the third fic in a row that has to do w flowers and i promise that was a coincidence lol. inspired by my favorite song from my favorite group :’)

word count: 8,176

i. the sky is blue and we’re over

Sylvain’s not sure what he would call the two of you.

He tends not to label things, never much a fan of assigning names, and it’s because labels imply a degree of certainty, of commitment; commitments that came with consequences if it all went south. Strings are too messy, and, he reasons, why bother with snipping them when he could avoid getting wrapped up in them to begin with? Love’s a ball of yarn but he’s not a cat.

With these factors taken into consideration, he finds himself startled, shocked even, like lightning has shot through his veins, to realize on a nondescript afternoon with the sun high in the sky and a gently billowing breeze, that you’re different. It is especially surprising because he arrives at this conclusion while he’s alone. This wasn’t an instance where the guy looks at the girl, really looks at her, and suddenly his chest tightens and he swallows hard because the light shines on her differently now and he knows with certainty—she’s the one.

For Sylvain, it’s the flowers. He’s in the greenhouse and there are sunflowers being cultivated in one of the planters. They’re a new addition, but day by day their stems have grown, shooting up from the soil, like hands reaching for the sky. Their golden petals open, and he swears that corner of the greenhouse feels the slightest bit warmer from the multiple tiny suns. It’s when he sees them and that warmth rushes over him that he is reminded of how he feels when you’re around. And he likes it, wants to feel this way forever, and he wonders if this is the sensation of strings wrapping around his heart.

The sound of his name pulls his attention from the sunflowers and he spots you walking into the greenhouse, a wide smile on your pretty face. But sunflower or smile, smile or sunflower, Sylvain is inclined to think they are the exact same.

He meets you in the middle and offers you his arm. As you exit the greenhouse, absentmindedly you wonder if your favorite shop in the nearby town has your favorite pastry in stock today (they rotate their menu). Why don’t we go check? he asks, and you’re quick to agree. The way your eyes light up is cute.

Sylvain is still hesitant to make any sort of decision as to where your relationship stands, because you have avoided putting a name to it too, but, at the very least, he could say that the two of you are… something more.

Your favorite shop does indeed have your favorite pastry available, and you barely stop yourself from buying three. Sylvain laughs and says he’ll buy three if you want, but you resolve to start with one, and if you’re still craving them, you’d get back in line for more. But both of you know that you will. And so does the baker. This isn’t your first time there. After the food is paid for, he lowers his voice and says he’ll keep two extra in the back for you. This particular baked good is popular, and you’re grateful for the kind gesture.

The gooey frosting sticks to your lips with every bite and your tongue slips out to lick it off. You hold out the pastry to Sylvain, a wordless offer for him to take a bite since he hadn’t gotten anything for himself, but he shakes his head. His own sweet tooth is more than satisfied by you. That’s what he tells you, and he can’t help but laugh when you roll your eyes and lightly punch his shoulder from across the small table. Then he’s reaching out to you, using his thumb to swipe the bit of frosting at the corner of your mouth that you’d missed. He brings it up to his mouth and the sugar melts pleasantly on his tongue. The blush dusting your cheeks reminds him of cherries.

You discuss everything from training and sore muscles to gossip from around the monastery. Sylvain shares the scoop on who’s dating who, and you listen attentively, head occasionally tilting and eyes occasionally widening to learn of unlikely pairs. Some you doubt the validity of, but he promises it’s all true. You sit quietly in thought, gaze dropping to the two pastries on your plate. Huh, you mutter, envisioning one couple specifically that you found hard to believe. Who would have thought?

Sylvain has his head resting on his propped up hand, watching you in amusement. Movement from over your shoulder draws his focus up, and there’s a woman exiting the antique shop next to the bakery. She’s coming this way along the sidewalk, and their eyes meet, and the grin he flashes is instinctual. The response he is met with he is very much accustomed to, her own eyes momentarily diverting, a sudden shyness overcoming her, before she slips him one more quick glance with a tiny smile, and then she’s walked past, continuing on her way.

He turns back to you, but you’re already watching him, and his brows furrow in confusion when you say you’re not really hungry anymore and suggest you head back. He’s even more confused when, instead of gathering up the pastries to bring back to the monastery, as you typically do, you take them over to the next table and ask if the people there want them.

After giving them away, you join him where he’s waiting on the sidewalk. You don’t reach for his hand on the walk back, so he reaches for yours, but it’s a few seconds before your fingers curl to properly grip his. A subtle delay, but unusual enough for him to notice immediately. The sudden change in mood makes him feel like he’s been spun in circles. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he wishes he did.

His wish is granted upon your arrival back at the monastery. The sun is setting and the lake glitters with the last of the daylight. It’s romantic, and he’s about to stop you by the docks, turn to you and steal a kiss in the peacefulness of dusk and run a hand through your hair, soft locks the golden rays of golden hour because this time of day doesn’t look this good on anyone else. Not the way it does on you. But you’re the one to stop first, and his strides are halted by your linked hands.

Your fingers loosen but his hold on your hand keeps you connected, and he’s still smiling like nothing’s wrong. It’s when you don’t reciprocate that it drops and he asks what’s wrong.

And it’s not quite what he wants to hear when you say I don’t know. Surely there was a reason to explain your listlessness. Something like that doesn’t just spring up from nowhere. But what could it be, that you can’t really put it in words? Concern starts to creep up his spine like an unwelcome winter chill, and your hand slipping out of his now slack grip to drop back to your side does the talking for you.

Quietly he says your name, an upward inflection towards the end like it’s a question. You’re staring at your shoes and he’s staring at the crown of your head and even for his worries about what’s happening, what you might say, he can’t shake the thought of fashioning you a crown of flowers.

“What are we, Sylvain?” you finally inquire.

Pulled from his train of thought, Sylvain blinks. “What do you mean?”

“This.” You motion between you both. “You and me… Are we just a temporary fling?”

The mere suggestion stings and Sylvain shakes his head. “What? No—”

“Then are we together?”

The implications of the question catch him off guard. He’d always thought you were on the same page: no labels, no titles, no boyfriend and girlfriend. Just… you and him. Nothing more, nothing less. But your impatience is clear as day with how you cut him off, and he still doesn’t understand why you’re bringing this up. But he knows you’re aware of his hesitation to call things like this by name, and you’d been fine to follow along until this moment, so he’s slow to respond to your loaded question.

“Hey, come on,” he murmurs, taking a half step forward to be closer. “You know you’re the only one for me.” He’s skirting around giving a direct answer, and hopes that you leave it at that, but you don’t, and when he tries to reach for your hand, you take a half step back to be farther away.

“Do I?”

The doubt present in your tone stops him short, and whatever else he might’ve said dies in his throat. Your frustrations are becoming more apparent as the conversation moves along, your eyes shining from the sunset and cutting through him like newly forged steel. Sylvain wracks his brain for what could have been responsible for the soured mood, entirely unlike the atmosphere of this afternoon.

“Is this… because of earlier?” he asks uneasily.

You don’t say anything, but your lack of reply lets him know he’s right. He scoffs like it’s a silly concern, smiling to try to allay your irritation. “That was just a quick glance. She didn’t mean anything.”

It’s the wrong answer to an unspoken question. “It’s not the first time you’ve done that.”

“Done what?”

“Flirt endlessly with practically every girl you see!” This is the most emotion you’ve displayed during your talk, your volume rising slightly, and Sylvain’s thankful the two of you are alone so no one hears what has quickly devolved into a full argument. “So no, I don’t know that I’m the only one for you. I can’t know!”

Every word is a punch in the gut and there’s a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. Sylvain’s mouth opens then closes then opens again but nothing comes out and that’s because you both know he has no defense. What you’ve said is true. He’s always flirted, always talked pretty to pretty girls and taken delight in watching them swoon. He likes to have them wrapped around his finger. Not even the less successful attempts, which leave him standing alone, staring at the back of their retreating figure, are enough to discourage him. It’s habit for him to sweet-talk his way into girls’ hearts, to stay there for a few weeks, days, hours, then take his leave and move on.

This habit is precisely what’s jeopardizing whatever sort of relationship he has with you, the prettiest girl of all. And maybe this is one of those stories where the guy looks at the girl, really looks at her, and knows that she’s the one, because it’s been much longer than a few weeks and never has he thought of leaving you behind.

But it’s too little too late as you stare up at him and he feels you drifting farther away despite the physical distance in between.

“What I said to those other girls were just empty words. They don’t matter to me,” he tries to reason. “Not like you do.”

You’re unsatisfied, however, and shake your head.

“Are you really ready for a relationship, Sylvain?” you ask with a hushed tone now, and his heart squeezes when you say his name. “Because I don’t think you are.”

His silence following your declaration is enough to cut the strings, and even if he did have words, you no longer have the patience to hear them.

———

ii. my friends tell me to give up

It’s almost frightening how you’re able to carry on as if he doesn’t exist. Whenever you’re both in a common area, you never so much as glance his way. Sylvain, on the other hand, isn’t coping very well.

Over the ruckus in the dining hall he can pick out your laugh easily, and a part of him deep down perks up the way it had before whenever he heard or saw you. His eyes shoot to where you sit at a table across the room. One of your friends appears to be telling a captivating tale that has you and your fellow housemates thoroughly entertained. Sylvain sees his mouth move but he can’t hear what he’s actually saying that has you all laughing. It’s impossible to hear much aside from clanking silverware and jumbled chatter. Sylvain’s ears have just been trained to listen for you.

The seat to his right is pulled back as Annette sits down with her plate of food, but Sylvain is too preoccupied staring at you to turn and say hello. Annette doesn’t expect any greeting, but she does sigh when she notices where he’s looking. Sylvain hadn’t officially announced what had transpired between you both; such was his prerogative when it came to any relationships. Since nothing was really ever “official,” he explained, there was no official start or end to make note of.

But Annette, as well as their mutual friends in the Blue Lion house, could surmise that whatever he had with you was different, even if he refused to put any sort of name to it. They began to suspect this when one whole moon had passed and you were still on his mind. Typically, the trysts which he discloses with them are with different girls, and there’s always that moment of trying to pair the name with the face before he continues on with the story, lamenting only half-seriously that She’s nice and all, but we just weren’t meant to be. (Not that it would matter much to figure out exactly who the girl of the week was anyway, since they would inevitably repeat this process all over again a few days later.)

When you came into the picture, you were a constant. For a long while at least—a lot longer than any of them gave Sylvain credit for. It’s been Sylvain’s nature to woo multiple girls at once, keeping them separated so as to prevent any conflict of interest, but over time it became noticeable that among the multiple names he would mention, yours came up again and again and again. And his friends began to wonder if you were it for Sylvain, that both of you were, in his words, meant to be, and maybe Sylvain didn’t want to acknowledge it because he didn’t want the commitment that came with it. Or maybe he was genuinely clueless to his own feelings, unfamiliar with love in any sense, especially the deep kind which flourishes in the deep hours of the night, a companion to silence and reflection.

Perhaps it was both, Annette thinks. He was oblivious until one day, something changed (he’d never shared the details, and no one had ever pried), and though he didn’t say it out loud, she noticed the light in his eyes when he talked about you. It was bright, instinctual, and, if she had anything to say about it, was almost love.

Now, Sylvain’s shoulders sag and his head rests on his hand as he watches you, hoping you’ll look this way, and the whole picture is one of dejection. Had the cutting of ties been what it took for his feelings to finally be truly realized? Life could be awfully cruel…

The chair across from Annette is pulled back with a grating scrape, wooden legs against wooden flooring, and Ashe sits down. His eyes are also drawn to Sylvain, as if a dark aura were surrounding him, and he frowns. A quick glance behind him in the direction Sylvain is staring confirms his suspicions immediately, and he bites his lip like he’s holding back words, wanting to speak but hesitating.

Sylvain notices Ashe’s pause and his eyes slide briefly in his direction.

“I know you want to say it, Ashe.” He’s blunt, tone flat. “So say it.”

Ashe releases his bottom lip. “Maybe it’s time to let her go.”

Annette holds her breath following this remark, anxious for Sylvain’s reaction. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous; he won’t get mad or yell. He’s been nothing but despondent since you stopped talking to him a couple of weeks ago, a perpetual raincloud hanging over his head. It did well to sour the mood of anyone who got near him, and if he noticed the effect it was having, he didn’t react or do anything to fix it. Some of those in Blue Lion were patient with him, giving him adequate time to process what happened. (Though what was that exactly? A break-up? It seemed like it, but Sylvain would never call it that.) Others, conversely, were less willing to wait for the storm to pass, hardly fans of being soaked to the bone.

Those who attempted the task of taking Sylvain’s mind off of you were far from successful. Where once mentions of a pretty girl in one of the other houses whom they’d seen glancing his way would cause Sylvain to perk up and seek her out, keen to snatch her heart up, for a day or a week or however long he fancied, such remarks now blew right past him, the faint whistle of a narrowly dodged arrow he doesn’t care enough to search for and see where it landed. The less patient among their friends have, therefore, given up. There could be no use helping someone off the ground if they weren’t looking for assistance.

Annette and Ashe were two people still holding on, but even they are gradually coming to terms with the futility of talking with what might as well be a brick wall. The absolute last resort that would pull Sylvain from his slump is if Dimitri were to say something, particularly in regards to how this is affecting Sylvain’s performance when training. Sylvain’s not at that point (yet?), so Dimitri has remained one of the patient few, but it would be better, of course, to avoid that kind of conversation entirely.

But Sylvain’s too busy running in circles around the thought of you to spot the hand offered to help him stand. He doesn’t say it, but Annette and Ashe don’t need him to because they already know what words refuse to surface: he doesn’t want to let you go.

What he does choose to share aloud is preceded by a sardonic laugh. “It’s ironic,” he starts, “that I’m the one who was dumped.” You’ve turned the tables on him. Does it usually hurt like this?

A singular issue that has remained at the forefront of his dilemma has to do with your own feelings. Was what you felt about him the same as what he still feels for you? His cynical side urges him to reason that no, he was the one making a bigger deal out of this than it was and it’s his fault he’s heartbroken. That’s the only way he could explain why you’re all smiles and laughs in the days that have transpired since the argument, a drop of sunshine warming the earth where you walk. Meanwhile he’s downtrodden in the shade, just a little too far out of your reach.

And yet he can’t shake the notion that you had to have felt just as seriously about your relationship as he had, because your outburst had stemmed from his aversion to exclusivity. Even if you didn’t say it, the problem you took with his coquetry implied your desire for something more too—that being the chance to maybe call him yours, with all the strings and none of the stray glances or flirtatious words shared with other girls. Should this be true, it was still his fault that your relationship is basically in shambles; his propensity to woo and impress with no thought to commitment, no thought to what you might think despite knowing deep down that you were different from the others, had pushed you away. So he’s paying the price. Being nobility means nothing; he’d never have enough money to pay in full for something like this.

Still, he wishes you would look at him, at least once. He feels like a lovesick puppy and maybe he should be embarrassed because as far as anyone else is concerned, he doesn’t get hung up on any one girl for long, but they don’t know you like he does. They don’t know the way you make his stomach do flips or the way your grin has him wrapped around your finger. The more you pass him by, the more he pines for you, and maybe you know and that’s why your eyes never search for his; you’re intent to move on, whatever your feelings for him may have been. The sun’s not fond of rainstorms either.

———

iii. it’s only you for me

Life starts to return to normal, slowly but surely. Sylvain’s in a slump less often these days, and he’s smiling a little more, joking around a little more. Though his training had never suffered after your relationship came to an end, he throws himself into it extra hard now, giving it his all. It’s the ideal distraction, and Dimitri has even commended his discipline and sharp improvement. Annette observes him with a knowing gaze but says nothing. The last thing Sylvain needs in his process of getting over you is to hear your name.

What truly begins to mark the return of the Sylvain they’re all familiar with is his flirtatious remarks with any cute girl that catches his eye. However, for every ounce of his enthusiasm, not everyone is interested (perhaps they’re aware of his track record), but that doesn’t discourage him. Where one might not care to give him the time of day, another is, and he pulls them in with silken praises and honeyed words murmured over the wispy tendrils of steam floating from their cups of tea.

Felix won’t admit that this past moon had been… uncomfortably quiet, with Sylvain in the state he was. It was strange to see his friend so reserved and contained, lost within his own head. Usually Sylvain would talk his ears off (or come very close to doing so) about his shenanigans and all the other monastery gossip Felix never cared to find out about himself. Now that the period of atypical quiet has passed, and Sylvain’s regained his voice and his confidence, well, Felix also won’t admit that he had missed it (but just a little).

Today he is an unintentional witness to Sylvain’s latest efforts of wooing another student; Felix doesn't know who she is, and he doesn’t plan to ask Sylvain later. They’re sitting across from each other at one of the tables in the reception hall, close to the wall. Sylvain’s broad-shouldered figure dwarfs her much smaller form, and Felix can’t see what he’s saying, but based on the girl’s bashful smile she hides behind her hand, it’s a string of saccharine remarks that Felix fears will make his teeth rot should he actually be able to overhear their conversation.

A few seconds is all it takes for Felix to grow tired of this display, and he sighs, prepared to continue his walk in the direction of the training grounds. But it seems the invisible hands which keep the world turning would keep him right where he is, and it’s in a fit of irony that perhaps the one person least interested in Sylvain’s love life also serves as an unintentional witness to his yearning, to his regression, and to his downfall.

Felix sees you around the monastery often, and he only made note of all the times he did after you and Sylvain began to spend time together more consistently. Prior to that, he had no idea who you were. The instances he had spotted you following whatever it was you told Sylvain that had left him so gloomy, were marked by slight confusion, for you carried on as if nothing were wrong, as if you didn’t have that talk and separated yourself from Sylvain entirely. And it left him to wonder, the tiniest bit curious, if maybe you were the one stringing Sylvain along. But for what purpose? To show him how it felt to be picked up, treated like gold, then abandoned in the dust? If so, you were more spiteful than you looked.

The speculation doesn’t make sense if what Sylvain had told him was true. Felix pretends he’s not listening when Sylvain talks about girls, but he is, and he remembers especially what Sylvain said about you. It wasn’t just Sylvain waxing lyrical when he declared that what you felt for each other was different. You were more than just some girl he took a brief interest in, and it was your equally enthusiastic reciprocation of his feelings that made Sylvain start to feel like he could have a real relationship. He never did tend to wear his heart on his sleeve, but with the way he spoke of you, he showed it off proudly. He’s usually guarded enough that Felix took this as a sign that your own feelings really were genuine.

And so, all those factors considered, Felix thinks he’ll never understand how, despite how strongly you had also felt for Sylvain, you are hardly affected by the break-up (Sylvain would never call it that but Felix isn’t blind nor the one in denial). You haven’t met Sylvain’s gaze since then, not once.

Well, until now, as you pass through the reception hall. Perhaps it was an accident, but that’s all it takes for Sylvain to slip back to square one. It’s a quick meeting of the eyes from over the shoulder of the girl Sylvain is talking to, and you never once pause in your steps. You almost look indignant to have caught his attention, inwardly scolding yourself for allowing your eyes to wander.

You walk right past Felix, kicking up a small breeze in your wake due to the hastening of your steps, and Felix looks from you over to Sylvain, who says something to the girl—excusing himself?—before standing up and following after you. He walks fast too, intent to catch up to you, and he doesn’t spare Felix a glance either.

Felix sighs. Oh dear…

Once out of the reception hall, Sylvain looks left and right. He barely catches sight of your figure turning the corner into the garden, and this time he breaks into a run, his wide strides carrying him to you swiftly.

“[Name]!” he calls out, and he doesn’t care for the stares he draws from other students. “Wait!”

You don’t turn around at the sound of your name, and in a desperate attempt to get you to finally look at him, he takes hold of your arm, hoping that you’ll stop. His grip is gentle, and you could easily pull away, but you don’t, and he’s breathing a little harder from the short run but also from the fact you’re standing here, in front of him, watching him and there’s no spark in your eyes like there had been once, but at the moment he’s just happy that you’re looking at him at all.

“What do you want, Sylvain?” you ask quietly.

He swallows, his breath returning to normal, and your eyes slide down to where he’s still holding your arm. His fingers uncurl from around your white long-sleeve and there are small wrinkles where they once were. There’s silence as Sylvain tries to put a sentence together because he realizes he doesn’t have anything to say. He didn’t actually think you would stop. And the longer you stand there, the more he panics, worried that you might leave and he’ll have wasted his chance to get you back.

“I’m sorry.”

He hopes you don’t ask sorry for what because there are so many things, and while part of him is ready to list them, to voice his regret and admit his feelings aloud, thereby undoing all he had ever done to keep himself from getting attached to one person, the other part of him is too scared to do it because he’s never felt like this about anyone and it’s frightening how painfully his chest tightens when you say his name, even when you say it with indifference.

You shake your head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

But there is and somehow it hurts more than you act like there isn’t. Are you really so prepared to move on? Frantically he searches your gaze for any longing or any sign that you don’t want to completely forget about what the two of you had. Surely you had been thinking about him too, in some capacity? Do you miss him at all?

“Please,” he begs, but he can’t begin to properly describe what it is he’s begging for. “Just give me another chance.”

You almost look as if you’re going to say no, your jaw set as you stare up at him. Yet he finds an inkling of hope in your several seconds of silence because you appear to be considering what he has said. His heart is pounding and could this be it? Could you be coming back to him? It might be slow, tentative, but Sylvain will work with that. He will give you your time and space to process, and he won’t mess up again.

You break eye contact to glance to your right, in the direction of the gazebo, and it’s a signal for Sylvain that his hope was probably too ambitious. To decide on something like that right now was unrealistic, and his impatience gnaws at him but he meant it when he said he would give you space.

“Can we talk about this another time? I have to meet someone.”

Another time. Sylvain nods his head a little too eagerly. “Yeah. Of course.”

You give him a time and place and when he says goodbye, you only halfheartedly respond with a wave. He remains where he is as you walk the rest of the way to the gazebo in the center of the garden and slide into the chair across from a guy Sylvain doesn’t recognize. At the sight of you both, his stomach feels heavy and his shoulders sag and maybe you don’t miss him.

———

iv. until you count all the petals

Sylvain arrives ten minutes early.

He understands why you chose this spot. It’s far from wandering eyes, the only people likely to come this way being the guards as they make their rounds. It stings a little to be treated as something to be hidden away, but he doesn’t blame you for it. If anyone aware of what had happened between you were to spot you together, it would only invite questions you might not be keen to answer.

What exactly were your expectations for the conversation you will have? Sylvain knows what his are, but from what he can tell thus far with the way you have chosen to handle this, picking a quiet place to talk, your own are the complete opposite. If you wanted to avoid anyone seeing you, then that implies you have no intention of taking him back. Otherwise, you would have no problem if the whole academy were to observe you together.

With a huff, Sylvain shakes his head in an attempt to rid himself of these negative thoughts. Be all that as it may, he wouldn’t set himself up for failure by overthinking and acting paranoid. Even if his assumptions are correct, he would still do his best to change your mind. He’s coming to you as a different person now, one that is sure of his feelings and, for the first time in his life, ready to put a name to what you two have because it is different and it’s special and the biggest regret Sylvain has is that he hadn’t realized it sooner. He wishes he hadn’t been so afraid to accept it.

The minutes tick by and he grows increasingly nervous. He hadn’t exactly prepared a speech beforehand, and usually he’s good at winging speeches, especially the flowery kind, designed to tug the heartstrings, but he doubts that will cut it this time. There are many things he wants to say, and there isn’t a lot of time to say them. All that he feels for you is an incoherent jumble, too strong to constrain to concise sentences and he wants to show you, not tell you. He wants you to understand the depth of his affection through the gentle graze of his fingertips along your skin, through his pounding heart as he holds you close, your ear to his chest. And he wonders if you’ll get it then, that you’re the first girl to render him speechless.

“Sylvain.”

As if shocked, Sylvain twists around. He hadn’t heard you approach. You’re standing a few feet away, hands clutched behind your back, a polite stance like you’re talking to a stranger. He doesn’t say anything immediately, unsure of how to greet you or if he should greet you. Should he just get into his spiel? But then he remembers the bouquet he’s clutching because your eyes are drawn to it, and he notes with embarrassment that in his absentminded pondering, he’d been squeezing the stems. Luckily none are bent out of shape, and he holds the flowers out to you.

“I got you these.” Smooth, Sylvain.

Your blink and tilt your head, confused as to why he would present you with a gift when the conversation you’re about to have hardly merits one, but you accept it anyway, graceful as always. “… Thank you.”

You bring them up closer to your face so you can smell them, and Sylvain’s smile is hidden behind the flowers. When you lower them again, you inform him you can’t stay for long. You’re meeting someone in the library to work on an assignment, and he’d like to know if that someone is the guy he saw you having tea with the other day, but he keeps silent about that. Perhaps you do have somewhere to be, or perhaps you don’t and you’re lying because you just don’t want to talk to him more than necessary. Either way, Sylvain is strapped for time, and he needs to make the best of it.

“I won’t be long,” he promises. “Just… until you count all the petals.”

And that wouldn’t take long at all. The petals of the flowers he gave you are large, and easily counted. Upon this remark, the corner of your mouth lifts in an almost-smile, and your focus shifts downwards to the flowers you hold. He can’t tell if you’re counting but doesn’t stop to ask.

Instead, he starts to spill his heart out to you. “I messed up big time, I know. And I meant it when I said I’m sorry. I should’ve been less afraid to accept what I felt for you.”

You purse your lips and look up at him. Quietly, you inquire, “What do you feel for me?”

Sylvain can feel his pulse pounding in his ears. You’re watching him closely, but it’s not scrutinizing or investigative, simply… curious. Curious to know if he’ll actually say it now, if your feelings had been valid and he had genuinely felt the same because when you called everything off, it certainly didn’t feel like he did, and he hates that he put you through that kind of heartbreak. You were the last person to deserve that, and the gravity of his series of screw-ups settle heavy on his shoulders now. This is his last chance to redeem himself, if you would even grant him that.

Though he understands this, the words don’t leave him easily, the final struggle in breaking past the walls he has created for himself. His mouth opens then closes, nothing coming out at first. He’s trying to find the words and you’re a patient person, but it doesn’t extend that far with him, not anymore, and he understands that too. No answer would still be an answer, and as his silence stretches on, you too open your mouth to speak, perhaps to say a farewell for good. That one second feels like eternity and the dreadful thought of you walking away now is what breaks down those barriers, and he’s desperately reaching out for you where you stand on the other side.

“I love you.”

Your mouth promptly shuts, and now you’re the one who’s speechless. He’d actually said it. The surprise on your face betrays the fact you really didn’t think he would, and to be honest, he’s a bit surprised too. Never has he confessed something so heartfelt to another, preferring to keep away from anything that intimate. Such a statement isn’t to be taken lightly, and he has always understood its importance, of what it means to say that to someone with such conviction that the heart squeezes so hard it begins to crack. It’s to this that he owes his sudden shortness of breath in the following quiet, waiting apprehensively for any sort of response.  

You don’t reply with words first. There are subtle changes written upon your face, whether or not you notice. Your features soften, your eyes not as guarded as they were, and he has greatly missed the fondness which settles in them. Eternal summer rests deep in his soul and you’re the sun that will never set. Your eyelashes kiss the smooth skin of your cheeks as you glance down. Now poised for a reply, your mouth opens, lips glistening, and he would like very much to kiss them. But that’s a mere passing thought and he remains in place, bracing himself, crossing his fingers for the best while mentally steeling himself for the worst.

Please say you love me too.

“Fifty-eight.”

That certainly didn’t sound like I love you too.

Sylvain’s brows furrow. “What?”

You lift your gaze to him. “There are fifty-eight petals.”

Well, it was a response. Not one Sylvain had wanted, but it was better than none at all, and you’d upheld your end of the agreement: you listened until you counted every petal.

He tries not to make his disappointment visible but you know him so well you can detect the smallest cues. His eyes break contact with yours, and for a moment it looks like you’re going to say something, at best a reciprocation of his affection, at worst a rejection of it, but you stop yourself, glancing down at the bouquet.

“I… I have to get going,” you state instead.

Sylvain nods. “Right.”

You part ways with awkward waves, and you don’t say See you later. It might be reasonable to assume that this is your way of telling him you don’t feel the same way, that it ends here and it ends for real, but he doesn’t make that assumption. There aren’t fifty-eight petals. There are seventy-two. He counted them earlier. You’d mentioned a random number, and if you hadn’t counted, that meant you’d been willing to listen from the start. Perhaps you weren’t as antsy to get away as he had previously assumed, and you had wanted to hear what he had to say.

He stares after your retreating figure but he doesn’t feel dread to see you walking away, flowers in hand. His breaths feel lighter, coming to him easier, and maybe he’d convinced you, or at the very least, is on his way to doing so. In any case, he would gladly wait, allowing you all the time you need to think.

———

v. prettier than a flower, she left

He hears you before he sees you.

You’ve just finished with choir practice and you call out a goodbye to your friend, who’s decided to stay behind in the cathedral for a bit longer. You, on the other hand, are striding past the tall and wide open wooden doors, the gentle wind today ruffling your clothes as you step outside. The air is cool and you don’t notice him standing there.

Sylvain’s off to the side of the entrance to the cathedral, leaning on the brick wall. He grins in amusement when he discovers you haven’t spotted him. He stares at your back for a few moments but doesn't let you get very far before he’s speed walking to catch up to you. His shoes clack quietly on the cobblestone but you don’t have time to react to the noise before he’s taken hold of your arm to grab your attention.

You gasp in surprise and turn around, eyes wide, and once you register who has stopped you, you let out a deep breath and set your free hand over your heart.

“Sylvain!” you exclaim. “You scared me!”

Sylvain laughs and continues to laugh even after you playfully hit him on the shoulder, so lightly that he very well could have imagined it if he hadn’t just watched you do it. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it.” With the hand still wrapped around the crook of your elbow he tugs you close, and because you aren’t prepared for this, you stumble forward and fall against his chest. You collide with a quiet oof!

“What happened to us meeting at the reception hall?” you ask, and as you do, you brace your palms against his chest to try to push away and increase distance, at least to give you adequate space to tilt your head back to look at him, but he’s got both arms wrapped around you now, and given that he’s stronger, he doesn’t budge.

You give up and stop your pushing, and he chuckles at your small whine of defeat. “I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.”

“I was going straight there. It’s a five minute walk.” Accepting that so long as Sylvain wanted to hold you like this, you would remain right where you are, you bring your own arms around his torso. You’re careful not to dig your fingers into the fabric of his blazer, not wanting to wrinkle it.

“Five minutes is too long when I could just wait for you here.”

He almost sounds offended that you imply that he could possibly wait for an extra five minutes before he could see you again, and it’s your turn to laugh. “So needy,” you tease.

Sylvain won’t deny it. There’s nothing to hide and by this point, the whole academy is aware of your relationship. You’re part of the monastery gossip now, the likes of which you enjoy talking about while sitting outside the bakery in town. Before, he might have resented the idea of being so openly wrapped around a girl’s finger, because that was supposed to be his thing. Sylvain didn’t get tied down to just one person. But before, he also hadn’t fully realized what he was missing.

He’d rearrange the stars for you, would scoop them from the sky to stick to the ceiling of your room if you asked him to, so sweetly with that sweet voice of yours. And maybe in thanks you would sing him to sleep, gently running your fingers through his hair and he’d drift off wondering how he he could be this lucky, to be in love with the moon and to be loved back.

His attention no longer strays to other girls, and for many at the academy, this is a complete turnaround from when he could hardly keep his attention on just one. So if anyone were to remark that he seems different now, or tease him with a Who are you and what have you done with Sylvain or some such joke, he won’t argue against it or act like this is merely temporary. You’re not temporary. And he’s less inclined to say that the way he is now is “different.” It’s more that he knows himself better these days, and knows that life is better with you.

Neither of you has kept track of how long you’re standing there, and Sylvain is only pulled from his thoughts by you asking him to let go so you can start the walk to town. You like when he holds you, you tell him, but the day and all its sunshine is too beautiful to waste just staying here.

Sylvain nuzzles your hair and smiles and he’s certain you can feel it. His arms around you loosen, but you don’t immediately pull back, as if you can sense he still has things he wants to say, murmured against your form so the wind can’t eavesdrop. He murmurs that he loves you, and it comes out so easily that it’s a wonder that there was once a time he’d struggled to share those words with you.

You lean back slightly to look up at him and even in the shade they are bright and glittering. Your mouth curls into a beautiful grin that he’d like to kiss. He bends down, closing the distance, and as you’re about to meet he thinks he feels you say it back—I love you—whispered in one quick and silent breath, a burst of heat against his lips.

“Sylvain?”

What? Were you saying that?

“Sylvain.”

It didn’t sound like you. But then… where was that coming from? Who was calling him?

“Sylvain, wake up.”

Wake… up?

Sylvain’s eyes slide open and through blurry vision that has yet to come into focus, he spots Ashe stand on the opposite side of the long dining table, leaning forward and bracing himself on the dark wooden tabletop. Sylvain groans and sits up, stretching out his spine after having fallen asleep in a position that wasn’t the most comfortable. Ashe’s smile is sympathetic, sorry that he had to wake him up. He was sleeping rather heavily.

“We have to get to class,” Ashe tells him. “The next lesson is starting soon.”

The hustle and bustle of the dining hall corroborates his statement. The students who had lingered and spent the entirety of their lunch period here are cleaning up, and a chorus of chairs being pushed back into place echoes through the room. With a huff, equal parts one of inconvenience at having to get up and one of disappointment that he’d simply been dreaming, Sylvain stands up and follows Ashe outside.

The weather has taken a turn for the gloomy. A thick blanket of clouds paints the sky gray, and it’s the sort of overcast sky that’s difficult to look at. Ashe wonders aloud if it might rain, but Sylvain has no response to offer. He’s still trying to regain his bearings in time for lecture, but it’s slow progress when he’s still hung up on his dream. It had felt so real, and that’s what hurts the most. For a moment, he almost believed that everything had worked out, and he wishes that he could’ve remained forever within his own head, suspended in time, where that short and blissful period could stretch to eternity.

As per usual, no matter the amount of noise, the level of commotion as students scramble to get to their classrooms, Sylvain can hear your laugh above it all. His eyes find you walking across the courtyard, uncaring for the possibility of raindrops falling from the sky.

You’re with that guy again; you have been more often as of late. Sylvain never did catch his name. He must’ve said something funny because you grin widely, looking up at him with a sense of admiration Sylvain can pick up effortlessly despite the distance. He knows that what you must feel for him is real, that what you feel for him is something like love, if not love itself, because you used to look at him that way.

You hadn’t given him a direct response after his confession, and he hadn’t pressured you for one, not wanting to risk pushing you away further. But his heartfelt admission mattered little because he truly had been too late, for you’d been swept off your feet by another, and the most you could give by way of apology was a final glance when Sylvain saw you both, arm in arm, walking to the front gates of the monastery to take the path into town. It was a shock, certainly, that it was you who initiated eye contact, but it was your merciful goodbye. You’re always sweet like that, even as you break his heart.

Sylvain’s gaze slides from your faces down to your linked hands, and it’s the last he sees of you two before you disappear into your lecture hall. He’s close behind Ashe as they step out into the courtyard, and Ashe exclaims he thinks a raindrop hit his head. While his pace quickens, Sylvain’s stays the same, and he takes a hand out of his pocket to hold it out.

A drop of rain falls into his palm, and then another, and he’d really like a sunflower right about now.

[spacyparker]

Perfectly imperfect || t.h

MASTERLIST - PROMPT LIST

Summary : You had broken up with Tom 2 months ago, but that doesn’t mean there is no more love between the two of you. But maybe it is still too late.

Characters : Tom Holland x reader

Word count : 2.3k

Warnings : Words !! I am not the polite type haha !Also I think it is just some kind of sadness and fluff !

A/N : I gotta say I am mostly proud of myself for this one ! Can’t wait for your feedback :) gonna write a part 2 if you guys want one !

There was once a promise, then there was a ring, and now only remained the last one. But that, Tom didn't know. He actually didn't know a fucking thing about you that would have had happened in the last two months. Because why would you two even speak ? You were split, broken up, fallen. And even though he asked Harrison many times about you, because damn he knew too well you both kept contact, the blonde guy had never told him a single thing. He was lost, hopeless and alone. Alone ? Was it really a word to use to describe Tom at that time ? He thought so, but no. Why would he even be alone ? He was Tom freaking Holland, and he could be partying and hooking up whenever he'd want. Which in fact he was actually doing.

There were moments were he cried. He cried because he missed you, because he had never given back your stuff in two months just like you didn't either. How many times did his brother caught him in the dark in his room, only holding your shirt that didn't even smelt like you anymore with red puffy eyes ? He cried because no one in the morning would make his eggs as crunchy as you as you were never a chef and always left pieces of eggshell in the plate. That thing was so fucking annoying when it happened back then, but now he was only nostalgic of your imperfections that got him so up on heels for you. He missed the scent of your hair and skin, the feeling of flesh against flesh, your bright Y/E/C eyes and that smile, that fucking smile that would always put one on his own lips.

He had screwed everything up, and he knew it. But Tom never saw or understood what he was doing wrong when you two were still together. He took you for granted, he played and he lost. Now remained emptiness in his chest even though he tried not to show anybody. But everybody knew. And every time he'd bring a girl to a date, or spent the night with someone, everybody stayed quiet. Because he was broken, and no one wanted to calm his enthusiasm. Nothing made sense. Not a fucking thing he did made sense. And not only his family and friends could see it, but the whole world. He was Tom freaking Holland, and paparazzi got his ass. Every time he'd move, every time he'd talk, there were here, just waiting for him to explain why he was seen with that many girls out there while he never seemed like this kind of person before he got with you. But everything had changed and he was just trying to cope with the feeling of abandon.

Which was totally hypocritical. Because Tom was the one who abandoned you though he wasn't paying attention. In fact he wasn't paying attention to anything. He was always too busy, always too tired, always too far away, always too grumpy or too not in the mood. As days and days passed, you felt like you didn't have any more boyfriend. And you stayed in that position for a good month before you decided that yes, your friends were right, and you needed to leave his side. You had nothing to feel guilty about : you deserved better and he was the one who started all the shit. But still it broke you. It broke you because you missed his laugh whenever you'd tell a joke, and god you were always telling jokes. It broke you because you missed him sending you his shirts just so you could have something to sniff at night whenever he wasn't home. But it most of all broke you because you loved him, you loved me like you never loved someone before and knowing he wasn't “yours” was terrific. So when you started seeing all these pictures of him hanging out with different girls, you were both angry and released. You didn't want want to be associated with such a womanizer, but how could he start dating other girls only weeks after your break up ?

The truth was that Tom was only desperate. He always thought you were the one, and he had to force himself to get to the point where this wasn't an absolute truth. He didn't want to believe it, but what could he do ? He tried reaching you so many times with not a single answer to his calls, texts or indirects on instagram. There was only his memories and pictures that kept your relationship alive. And sometimes, sometimes Tom wondered if you still got those pics, because you used to take a lot together, and even these presents he bought you. He wondered if you kept the ring, the much talked about ring that got the internet craving for some more infos.

“Why are you staring at me like that ?” You asked with frowned brows as you chewed your nutella croissant. Tom couldn't get his eyes off you, and he got this big silly smile curling his lips. Which was kind of cool, but not when you wanted to eat your breakfast in peace. You were never a morning person.

“I have something for you.” He said in a high-pitched excited voice, higher than usual.

“Tom, I swear if you're going to fart again I'm leaving this house.” You relationship was… totally complex-free. At least it became that way the first time you burped by accident around him. He has always been his true and entire self ever since. Which was weird sometimes, but you loved how you two never had to hide anything from the other. Still, it was not like this happened everyday.

“Whuuut ?” He got a fake offended look stuck to his face. “I was trying to be romantic, you just ruined it !”

“How is saying 'I have something for you' romantic ?” You asked with frowned brows, again. It seemed to happen a lot when you were with him.

“It is romantic because the present I got you is romantic, can't you wait and see ?!” A small chuckle escaped his lips. Tom knew you weren't the desperate and delicate sentimental kind of girl, so he wasn't surprised this just seemed weird for you. Anyways, he really wanted to do that.

“Ok, go on.”

He gulped before a big bright smile got on his lips again, and he got a small square box from under the table. But you gave him no chance to open it. “No.” You said out of breathe, because you couldn't seem to do inhale anymore.

Tom knew it was a risky move. So many people already broke you before, and he already had so much trouble to release you from this shell you had built around you and your heart. He knew how much you had suffered, how much you promised yourself to never fall in love again before you met him, and how much you were still scared of engagement. Because you thought that letting someone come into your life was giving them the power to leave you. And God you didn't know at that time, but you should have had listened to your gut and just stop relationships for a while.

“This isn't a proposing !” He immediately reassured you, himself now panicking. Maybe it was a bad idea, after all. He just wanted to make clear to everyone how much he loved you. A sight of relief fell off your lips, and he continued with now a trembling voice. “I know a ring always seems so official and stuff, but… I want this to be a promise ring, and-”

“A promise ring pretty seems like a proposing to me.” You cut him before pinching your lips together, ruining the moment as you always did when everything was becoming too cute and fluffy. You just couldn't help yourself, you just couldn't let him get that fucking terrifying power.

His eyes seemed so affected it broke your heart. You weren't proud of yourself, but you worked this way. He knew it, and he was totally thinking the situation would turn this way when he thought about it. He had just hoped maybe this time it would work.

“I just… I want you to see the ring as a present, the image of the love I hold for you. We've been together for almost a year, now, and you really helped me with both my personal and professional life. I just thought I could give you that to thank you, and so it could remind you everyday I love you more than anything even if that sounds fucking cliché. I want to see this ring as the proof of the love we share, and we will always share. So what you say ?”

When he opened the box, your look fell on the ring it was previously hiding. It was a beautiful masterpiece, and you could tell this cost more than your car. It looked very simple and yet so beautiful, with a diamond in the middle that seemed rough instead of perfectly shaped and plain, and four gold branches were holding it, looking like real very small tree branches to you, before joining in a perfect circle so you could put it around your finger.

“It looks so perfect.” Was the only thing you managed to mutter while you couldn't look away from the jewel.

“Perfectly imperfect.” Tom added with an unsure smile. “Just like you say everything needs to be.”

“Okay.” You slightly nodded before looking back at him.

“Okay ?” His smile got bigger, as if he was going to rip his lips up from all the happy stretching.

“Okay.” You smiled back. A genuine smile. No one had ever proved you they loved you before, and maybe it was time to accept you were lovable too.

Now all he got was this memory, and the many articles that talked about that ring when everyone thought you were engaged. And to be honest, it really felt as if you were. But time changed and he lost that too.

After the breakup, Tom had started posting a lot of pictures, which wasn't really his type before. He just wanted you to notice him, to see him. He was losing himself too, faking being happy and sometimes going all mad and posting a quote over a black screen as any teenager would do nowadays. He wanted you to know he still lived without you, but that sometimes it wasn't enough. He was craving your touch, you voice, your laugh, your scent, your words, everything that made you you. He was craving you. So much he started stalking on your social medias, but you never posted anything. No picture, no video, no text, no story. Nothing, just a radio silence he hated.

Until this morning. But it seemed to happen so late he couldn't do anything anymore. Two months had passed, he had done so many shitty things, and there was finally a proof of you still being alive. When he opened instagram that morning, his heart missed a beat so fucking quickly he thought he could have died of it. But he was still alive. Kind of. He rushed, urging his thumb to press your profile picture that appeared in the top left corner of his screen, and soon your story appeared before him. He stopped breathing without even noticing, because you were simply breathtaking and he almost forgot how beautiful you could be. He looked at the video three times, making sure he wasn't hallucinating. But no, he couldn't get it wrong. This ring, this specific ring, this promise ring was still taking centre stage on your finger. And suddenly, suddenly Tom felt alive, with that fucking butterflies in his stomach.

“What time is it ?” Moaned a feminine voice beside him. He jumped by surprise. Fucked. He was so fucked. All of this was a mistake, and he was just realizing it now he had seen that fucking ring still on your fucking finger.

Truth is Tom had started dating a this blonde girl a few days ago. She was totally over him and he needed to feel loved. It wasn't that serious for him, but still he had decided to get into a real relationship with her, thinking that feelings would follow with time or he'd just leave her when he would be tired of her. But that just made a week they got together, and now he felt trapped. Because he wanted to try to talk to you again now that he saw this, but at the same time he didn't want to seem like a cheating boyfriend. He had never done that, and he didn't want to become one. All his previous hook ups were nothing serious, so he thought it didn't count. In fact, he always told the girls it was just a one night thing, so they couldn't say they weren't aware.

“It's ten.” He simply answered. And the girl moaned again before stretching her body.

“Kay, gonna go make breakfast then.” She leaned on to kiss his bare shoulder, not even bothering to look at his phone screen before she got up. This girl trusted Tom, and this was her mistake.

She left the room, certainly to go to the kitchen as she had just told, but Tom couldn't care about that. He didn't even bother to look at her leaving as he always did. Instead, he got to your profile and opened the chat, his heart beating way too quickly as he managed to type a fucking idiot sentence he sent you without even really thinking.

Text from TOM : You're still wearing it.

And with that, if you didn't answer, then maybe it was really not meant to be.

[seedserotiny]

Pyrohydriscence

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Lapidot, past Jaspis

Summary: Human AU. Lapis loses everything. Her car, her apartment, her sense of control over her own life… and then she gains a roommate.

Warnings for this chapter: none

Chapter 5

Peridot was still at work when she got home. Today was Friday, though, so the next two days would be her time off. Lapis wondered if she was going to get anything done with her roommate home. So far she hadn't had any callbacks on her applications. It was really too early to worry about that, but since she was starting to like Peridot, she felt like she should probably definitely get some money coming in sooner rather than later. She had savings still, which would cover the first month, but she didn't have much after that. The responsible part of her wanted to keep on the hunt for a job every day until she landed one.

She wondered how long it would take. Lapis had a decent resume: some college, some job experience, and, thankfully, her DUI didn't count as a felony, so she didn't have to put it on her applications. Of course, she couldn't work anywhere that served alcohol, so her options were limited. Pretty much any kind of restaurant job was off the table, for example.

She half-heartedly submitted her resume to another coffee shop. Lapis was definitely not just sitting around waiting for Peridot to get home. Nope.

The sound of keys in the lock brought her back to attention. Pumpkin scrambled off the beanbag chair and waited by the door. Lapis tried not to think too hard about the fact that she and Peridot's pet seemed to share the same level of excitement about Peridot's impending presence.

She entered behind a stack of pizzas. What a splendid human being. "I hope you like mushrooms," she called out, plopping the boxes on a kitchen counter. Lapis loved mushrooms. Now that her hands were free, she gave Pumpkin a good ear scritch, went to the fridge, and popped open a soda. "Happy Friday!" She announced, making a 'cheers' gesture and heading off for her daily post-grimey-job shower. "By the way, you owe me for one of the pizzas, free-loader!" She shouted through the door before the sound of running water kicked on.

Lapis groaned dramatically. She thought she almost heard her roommates signature nasally snicker through the walls.

When Peridot returned, Lapis was ready on the couch with Pumpkin and two plates of several slices of pizza. "Season 1 finale!!" She yodeled when Peridot joined her on the couch. She was surprised that her vertically challenged roommate had changed right into some comfy pajamas, rather than her usual post-work attire. Her pants had little aliens on them. Lapis coveted them.

"Prepare yourself. Not everyone can survive exposure to the sheer amount of talent that went into this episode," Peridot said ominously.

Lapis clenched her fists and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment as if she was centering herself. "I think I'm ready."

Peridot nodded solemnly and started the show.

Approximately 44 minutes later, Lapis sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, enraptured, shaken. "What. You mean… this whole time? And that part with Paulette, and Pierre, oh my God."

"I knoooow!"

"We must start season 2 immediately." She began to rummage for the second disc set. She smiled. This was much better therapy than… actual therapy.

"Hey Lapis?"

Oh, maybe not. Peridot's voice sounded serious, and not in the usual hammy way that meant she was playing it up for the effect. Lapis turned around. Her roommates brows were furrowed, and she looked right into Lapis's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Who's your favorite character?"

Lapis punched her in the arm.

"Ow! What was that for!"

"For being such a damn nerd. And hm…" Lapis pondered a moment. "Paulette, I think."

"What!!"

"What."

"Paulette is by far the weakest character. I don't know what Percy sees in that… sobbing magnet of misfortune."

"Well, she is kind of hot."

"Well, yeah, but they have no TRUE compatibility. It's like the writers are forcing the relationship at every turn. Percy wastes SO much of his time protecting Paulette and performing these romantic gestures. I don't think she even comprehends how much he does for her. Take, for example, season 1 episode 4, when they have the archery competition-"

Lapis tried to look like she was absorbing anything Peridot said after that. These speeches tended to have momentum; it was easier to let her finish than it was to try to stop her. Besides, Peridot looked so sad and embarrassed when she realized she'd been ranting. Lapis occupied herself by getting up and putting in the next disc. She found herself enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. Yeah, she sincerely doubted she'd get a lot done this weekend.

By the time Lapis tried to return to the couch, Peridot had worked herself into a lather. She gesticulated, lying on her back, sprawled across the couch. "And then, in episode 7! Blurgh blurgha blurrgh," she said. Or something like that.

The tiny woman was somehow taking up the whole couch.

Lapis responded like a rational adult and flopped backwards onto the middle seat, crushing Peridot underneath her back in a surprisingly comfortable lounging position. Peridot gurgled and sputtered. "Hey, don't let me interrupt. Episode 7, right?" Said Lapis. She grinned as Peridot "Tiny Hands" Pumpkinmom struggled in vain to escape.

"Behemoth!" Peridot screamed, managing to wiggle her torso free and beginning to push on the side of Lapis's head and arm.

"I am 5 foot 3, you hobbit."

Peridot's wriggling and slapping was starting to disturb her lounging. Lapis grabbed both of Peridot's wrist and held them in one hand. This was the first time Lapis had ever had size as an advantage in a tussle. The power was going to her head.

Some of the noises that Peridot made in response were not quite human, but they were quite entertaining. Lapis didn't realize she was laughing gleefully until she snorted. Oh no. She just gave the enemy ammunition.

Peridot inhaled a breath, no doubt locking and loading a sick burn.

"I'll let you go if you don't say whatever it is you're about to say," interrupted Lapis.

Peridot calculated the costs and benefits of that proposal for a moment. "I accept your terms."

Lapis released her, just in time for the theme song to end and the show proper to start. Peridot settled into her usual sitting position with a huff.

Lapis pretended not to notice that they were still technically touching.

----

Yep, Lapis got absolutely nothing productive done that weekend. And she had plans for this one. The fish tank Peridot had given her was all set up now. They were definitely going to have to go to the pet store to pick up some aquatic residents. And Steven wanted to hang out too.

But for now, it was still Friday afternoon, and she still had to finish out her second session with Dr. Garnet.

"It was my fault, really, I initiated casual physical contact first. Now, between Steven, Peridot, and Pumpkin, I get no moments of peace. My space is no longer sacred. Yesterday I was reading in a one person bean bag chair and suddenly I had a rabbit and a house elf reading over my shoulder. Reading is not a team sport. She made me wait to turn the page until she caught up. Who does this?!" Lapis ranted.

Garnet chucked, "I understand completely. But, I have to ask, does this contact really bother you? Communicating boundaries is very important in close relationships."

Close relationship was a little strong. I mean, she'd known this group of people for what… 4 weeks now? Way too soon for close relationship status. For sure. "Well, I don't know, it's different than I'm used to." Honestly, Lapis was more familiar with being touched in a much different context.

"Forgive me if I assume too much, but I think it's possible you're enjoying the affection. Based on what you've shared with me, you're overdue for some healthy friendships."

A tactical strike. Lapis wasn't used to being read so easily either. "I mean, it's not… unpleasant, to be touched. I just. I don't want her to get any ideas or something."

"Hm." The head tilt.

"That just sounds like some awful drama, having to reject Peridot if she makes a move or something. We live in like… the same room."

"Hm-hm."

Lapis looked at the diploma behind Garnet's head. "Now that I say it out loud I feel silly, or like, vain. Like I expect anyone I'm around to want in my pants. God, what am I even talking about? I think Peridot would gnaw off her own arm before making me feel any negative emotion on purpose."

Garnet blinked. Maybe. The glasses made it hard to tell.

"I can't believe I actually wasted time sort of worrying about that. Why am I so uncomfortable with… comfortable situations? It's like I look for some hidden fucked up shit in everything. I mean, most of the time I'm right, but still. Steven trusts so much, and it seems to make him so happy. I kind of envy that."

"You shouldn't."

"Huh? Why?" Lapis was baffled, it didn't seem like a therapist to talk negatively about trusting people.

"You do trust."

Oh, she got it now. Well, kind of. "What do you mean?" Lapis was pretty damn sure that wasn't the case.

"You sincerely believe that Peridot wouldn't hurt you."

"Oh... Oh."

Garnet gave her a small smile.

"I don't know how to feel about that," Lapis admitted.

"Take as long as you need to process. Our session is almost over. We can continue this conversation next week, if that's something you'd like to do."

It was Lapis's turn to hm.

---

Lapis stood at the bus stop outside the clinic. For the first time in a while, she was really craving a drink. She dug her nails into her palms. She felt floaty, off balance, standing there, waiting for the bus. The shitty part of her started mapping out liquor stores that might not card her, bars she might be able to get into without flashing an ID. She wondered which bus lines would take her there. Her phone had a handy app for that sort of thing.

Her phone beeped. She thought of Jasper.

"Tell my baby angel Pumpkin I'm on my way home to him and I have baby spinach. Also hi Lapis, I guess." It was Peridot.

Lapis looked at her phone for a while. The bus pulled up. She got on and rode it home.

----

That stupid therapy session made Lapis start paying attention to her feelings. She didn't want to be caught off guard like that again. She would get so good at emotional self-awareness that that smug therapist wouldn't have anything to hm about. That's right, she would become a paragon of maturity out of pure spite.

But that whole process kind of sucked. If she hadn't been paying attention, she wouldn't have noticed things like the way she would feel a smile bubble up when something happened that she wanted to tell Peridot about later. She wouldn't have noticed how her body relaxed when she leaned into her on the couch, and how much fun she had during their many battles of wits. She wouldn't have noticed how her ridiculous outfits, the way she always spoke with her hands, and her nerdy ass hobbies were becoming sort of endearing despite everything Lapis stood for. When the interviews started coming in, despite the massive amounts of relief she felt every time she got a chance at a job, she felt agitated when they took place while Peridot was off work. Yeah, she would have much preferred to not have noticed any of those things.

She didn't know how she felt about those feelings. Periods of relaxed contentment were punctuated by periods of existential panic. Lapis felt like this all would have been better if it happened several years later, after she had time to untangle all her baggage. But she couldn't just ask Peridot to leave and come back later when she felt ready to interact with someone on a non-superficial level.

And besides, there was one feeling she could easily identify:

She didn't want any of it to change.

[anotherbleachimagines]

est relationship headcanons for shinji? sfw and nsfw if ur feeling 'em?

i am always feeling Shinji tbh.

Shinji Established Relationship Headcanons

Most important point in a long, established relationship with Shinji is WHEN, of this relationship is before he was exiled from the Soul Society, the relationship is very private. He's a Captain and honestly, wants his private life and those he's involved with to stay that way. If it's after he returns to the Soul Society, he's still private, yes, but at the same time, he's more open to have them actively participate in his life simply because what more can the Soul Society do to him? And it's an act of rebellion for him to be so open with his s/o and after everything that's happened to him to be so open and in love with is such a refreshing feeling.

In private though; this man is ridiculously clingy. Sitting on the couch reading reports? His head is in their lap, and if they run their hands through his hair? He's in heaven. Laying in bed either in the early morning or late at night? S/O learns to expect to be a tangle of limbs and hair almost immediately. If it's after he returns to the Soul Society he is like 900 times worse - he's craved intimacy, and someone knowing who and what he is and loving him anyway. Also. S/O can quickly and easily Shinji into a pile of goo by just crawling into his lap and wrapping their arms around him and resting their head on his shoulder. 

MAKE HIM DO CHORES. Shinji will literally try to do anything to get out of chores, but by this point in their relationship s/o knows the game this man in playing and doesn't fall for it. Throw a broom at him, and tell him to sweep up his damn messes, he’ll grumble about it, but honestly, he likes the domesticity of it and the fact that they're doing actual normal couple things. After the craziness of his life, having someone remind him he's just a man and that he makes mistakes and messes and that there's someone to help him through it all, grumbling all the while. 

There's tons of impromptu dancing -- jazz music will hum through their shared rooms and his office and Shinji won't hesitate in pulling his s/o in and gently swaying across the floor with them in his arms. He’ll sing off pitch and sweep them across the (now clean, and pun absolutely intended) floor, it'll be silly and romantic and it'll make s/o fall in love with him all over again. If they're out at a bar and good music comes on s/o can expect drunk cuddle/dancing. It's the best. There'll be lots of cute commentary from him and drunken mumbling into their hair.

NSFW BELOW THE CUT

Post-Exile Shinji has a thing for desk/office sex -- s/o can slip into his office after Momo has left for the day and crawl into his lap under the pretense of cuddling, but, if they move just right they can turn it into him forgetting about his paperwork and devolving into fervent kisses and the shifting of clothing so that they can ride him right then and there in his desk chair. Mildly inappropriate? Absolutely. But honestly, it’s one of the few things that he really, really enjoys and is willing to do semi-publically. The only time he shuts it down is when there’s a chance that Momo could end up coming back into the office; the last thing he wants to do is scar the poor girl more than she already has been.

Sex is a pretty casual, open thing with Shinji -- he’s never so serious with himself and his lover that mistakes and laughter ruin the mood. They know each other, hell, they love each other, so yeah, smacking into the back of his head while trying to do something that Lisa showed them in a magazine? Akward, but they both end up laughing and breathlessly kissing each other and making it into something they can enjoy. He’s also pretty chatty during sex, honestly. Like, there’s a lot of confirmation or questions, because, they can’t read each other’s minds, and sure, quick explosive sex is good, but not always as satisfying as knowing what your partner wants or needs, and honestly, if they’re in a relationship for the long haul, there has to be more to their sex life than just really quick rough sex.

Because it’s Shinji he does want to try the weird/unorthodox positions because, let’s be honest here, it wouldn’t be Shinji unless s/o was rotated three different ways and couldn’t tell up from down. Sometimes it’s super silly and doesn’t work, and that’s fine, weird kinky sex turns into normal, good sex that they both enjoy. But when it does work, they’ll both be seeing stars and probably go to work the next day dazed and with the most ridiculous smiles on their faces. At first, people were confused, but once they put two and two together people weren’t certain they wanted to think about it.

He’s also definitely here for edging -- waking them up in the morning to his hands and mouth and watching their bodies, knowing just when to stop before they’ll orgasm and just get up and leave them there, turning around only to tell them that coffee was made. Those days, he’ll make a point to visit them during the day, to keep them tense and thinking about him all day, maybe even letting them pull him away for a moment but every time he leaves them in tears because one can only take so much edging in a day. By the time they’re both home though, he’s one them before they can get their shoes off -- because as hard as it was for them throughout the day, all he could think of was the moment in front of them. Those nights are filled with rough sex, but, he’ll promise them that it won’t be unfulfilling.

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: Seven Stages

Another anonymous request:

Ok can I request Chris and his ex being cast in the same movie and trying to be professional but its obvious that they still love each other.up to you if they reunite or not.

Enjoy!

***

1

What. The. Fuck?

That was your reaction when you heard the news that your ex-boyfriend was being cast opposite you in the movie you’d worked long and hard to be a part of.

The nausea overwhelmed you almost immediately, all your floating-on-air happiness at actually scoring the role drifting off into the distance like a lost balloon.

How were you supposed to be expected to deal with this? It’s not like you were just going to be working alongside each other like you would in any other job in the world. You were going to be romantic interests! The whole narrative revolved around this relationship! You’d be spending every day for the foreseeable future pretending to be in love with your ex-boyfriend.

No, you told yourself quickly, calm down. You were professionals. Exes had starred opposite each other in acting roles before. All you needed to do was get in that head space where you weren’t you and Chris wasn’t Chris.

You could do this.

You could.

It’d be fine.

2

It was not fine. No matter how many times Chris told himself he just get on with this, he quickly realised there was no ‘just’ about it. It was hellish.

He tried so hard, so, so hard to not see you as you but your scent was the same when you brushed by him, the feel of your skin under his hands when you had to touch, the press of your body against his when his character brought yours in for a hug. For some reason, he just couldn’t compartmentalise you. It was all too familiar. And it was holding back his performance, he could feel it.

Worst of all, tomorrow was the biggie. A silly argument about misunderstood feelings, resulting in a hot and heavy make out session leading to a night spent together.

Chris lay awake in his rented apartment, wondering if you were over analysing this as much as he was. If he’d been struggling up to now to compartmentalise, this was going to be a whole new ball game. There would be close ups and longing stares, laboured breathing and skin-on-skin. Chris willed his brain to work with him, not against him and, as if you could sense his dread, his phone buzzed on the nightstand, illuminating to inform him of your message.

Please don’t freak out on me tomorrow. This movie is big deal for me. Get your head in the character. We’re not us.

You knew, of course you did. You’d been able to sense all along how much he was struggling separating reality from fiction.

His first response was to be defensive and he quickly typed out a message telling you that he wasn’t freaking out, he was a professional thank you very much and he had no feelings so there was no problem. He concluded that it sounded like it was you having the problem, not him.

He’d never lied to you like that.

You didn’t reply.

3

You bristled when you saw him on set, remembering the anger that had kept you from a restful sleep the previous night. Make up had had a job on their hands this morning.

But you shook it off. You had to prove him wrong now, after all, even though you’d seen the subtle hints that betrayed his discomfort during all your days working together. You couldn’t help the feelings of rejection. You knew it would be difficult but you didn’t think he would be so repulsed or unsettled by your company. Had he met someone else? Did he look at you now and wonder what had he ever seen in you?

It was the bedroom scene first. The set had been readied, the lights dimmed, the ambience created, and you were sat in your fold out chair, wearing a robe, very, very interested in your phone and not much else.

The sickening anxiety rose in your stomach and you tapped your foot repetitively against the chair leg to hide the slight tremble of your limbs. You ran through the shots in your mind, trying to make it seem like a check list, something to get to the end of, cold and clinical.

You glanced upwards through your lashes and saw Chris talking to the director. He was wearing his robe too and you knew from your own state of undress that there wouldn’t be much underneath it. They were chatting and nodding and gesticulating towards the set, the director laying out his vision for Chris’ role in the scene.

Then, all too soon, you were called.

4

Chris could feel your heart racing. The first shot was going to be medium close up, you laying down together and moving into the shot, gently, you underneath his body, his arms encasing you, gazes locked, the warm glow of the lamps illuminating your skin. He knew there’d be some appropriately sensual music laid over the top in post-production. It was a romantic, intimate moment, the couple finally admitting their true feelings, finally giving in to where they’d been headed all along.

And as he laid you down, hands caressing you, lips ghosting your skin, it was suddenly all too much for him. He couldn’t do this, not in front of all these people, not with everything you’d shared. He felt like he’d literally just let a camera into his bedroom and he was exposed and vulnerable. All his feelings and emotions laid bare on this film set.

He jumped up like your skin burned him. He didn’t miss your expression of devastation, of humiliation, but it wasn’t enough to keep him there.

‘I’m…I’m sorry.’

And he rushed towards his trailer.

5

Son of a…

You lay there, embarrassed beyond belief. ‘Cut’ had been yelled and after a few moments of surprised blinking, an assistant or two ran out after Chris while one thoughtfully handed you your robe.

You told him, warned him not to freak out. And now, here you were, practically naked on a cold, draughty set made to look warm and cosy, unable to film your scene because your ex couldn’t even bring himself to pretend to be attracted to you.

The fuming anger spread through you pretty quickly after that, fuelled by the humiliation, and you stormed off towards his trailer, blazing.

You thumped on the door twice before letting yourself in unceremoniously.

‘What the HELL do you think you’re doing?’ You stood, arms folded, directing the full fury of your gaze towards where he sat, head in hands, still only clad in boxer briefs.

He shook his head wearily, ‘I can’t. It’s too much.’

You swallowed your pride, your tone scolding, ‘Listen Chris. I know this is tough given our history, but you’ve been in this business long enough to be able to get over it when you’re not attracted to someone. You’re literally getting paid to pretend you’re desperate to be with me, so just get over yourself and do it. Don’t mess this up for me, please.’

He was silent for a long moment, before he sighed deeply and looked up at you, his arms falling into a shrug, defeated.

‘I don’t need to pretend.’

6

You were frozen in shock, rooted to the spot where you stood, trying to process what you’d heard him say.

Eventually you found your tongue but when you spoke it was barely more than a gravelly whisper, 'What?!’

He stood up then, needing to gain some semblance of control. He was irritated, frustrated with himself.

'You heard me,’ he barked out a humourless laugh, throwing his hands in the air, his voice verging on aggressive. 'I said I don’t need to pretend. Any of it. I don’t need to pretend to find you the most attractive woman on the planet, or pretend that I want to make earth shattering, intimate love to you, or pretend that I want to spend every single waking moment of my life with you. Because it’s all fucking true. And that’s why I can’t do it. You don’t feel the same and it’s too fucking raw.’

He had paced the small space of his trailer while all of his feelings came tumbling out, expecting you to turn on your heel and leave.

This was easily the most unprofessional thing he had ever done and you wouldn’t forgive him easily.

7

You were still in shock, the version of events he was telling you so different from what you had conjured in your own mind. He wasn’t uncomfortable because he was repulsed… it was the complete opposite. It was a revelation and you couldn’t help the smile that began to form on your mouth.

You took tentative steps towards him where he leaned on his arms against the back of a chair, weary from his outburst. He turned to look at you warily as you stepped closer, his blue eyes dark from the weight of the burden he had been carrying.

You ran a hand along his jaw, smoothing across his beard, before cupping the back of his head and tugging his mouth down to meet yours. The kiss was slow and heady, the mark of two people who already knew each other intimately. It was the delicious, languid rolling of tongue against tongue and, once he had stopped being surprised, Chris wrapped both hands around the space between the bottom of your ear and your neck, drawing your face even closer to his, keeping you there so he could kiss and kiss you, deeper and deeper, and finally soothe the craving he’d been having for months.

You both had to breathe eventually, and you rested your foreheads together, your palms pressed against his chest (you always had loved feeling the muscles under your fingertips there) and him keeping firm hold of your head.

'Come with me and put all of that into the scene, please. We can make this look really fucking good.’

You could practically hear his heart drop as disappointment flooded his face, thinking you just wanted to placate him enough into completing the scene, and he released the hold on your jaw, but you held him firm.

'Don’t misunderstand me, Chris. We need to go out there and give the performance of our lives but then I sure as hell want you to take me back to your apartment and make, what was it? Earth shattering, intimate love to me. For real. All night. If you can.’

He regarded you for a moment, organising his thoughts, before pulling your face back to his.

'Every night,’ he clarified, making it very clear where he wanted this to go.

'I’m yours,’ you whispered, agreeing wholeheartedly.

[breathlessbucky]

At Last

Bucky Barnes x Anxious!Reader

Summary: Reader decides to get her butt out there and finally attend one of Tony’s parties, including time with Bucky.

 A / N:  This is horribly sloppy writing, but I just needed to get something out so I could find my groove again. So please cut me some slack with this one. :)

Warnings: Little cursing, minor low-self esteem, possibly bad writing (unedited), etc. 

“Y/N, it’s just a silly party. Just a rather large group of people hanging out and relaxing. Nothing bad is going to happen, honey,” Natasha was trying to console you and coax you into going to one of Tony’s more fancier parties of the year. Currently, you were balled up in the pillows of your bed, Natasha trying to comfort you like a mother would. 

She was already dressed up in a fancy white dress, hair was done and ready to head to the penthouse of the tower. “Nat, go without me. I’m fine in my ‘fortress of solitude’. Go have fun, you and Wanda, you don’t need me.”

“Your right, I don’t need you. But I want you to be with us, have a little fun. Every time we go out anywhere you skip out, claim you're tired or not feeling well,” She sighed, standing up off the bed. “But I won’t press you any further if you really don’t want to come. If you change your mind, I brought you a couple things to wear.” 

Even with your eyes closed, you could hear her making her way to the door, where Wanda waited patiently outside. Before you heard the click of the door shutting, Natasha spoke once more. “Bucky is going to ask where you are, and I guarantee when he finds you aren't coming, he’ll be sulking in the corner the rest of the night.”

After she left, you didn’t move, processing her words. She was right, after all. You always denied going anywhere. Paranoia, anxiety and low self-esteem always stood in your way. Guilt seeped through your stomach, thinking that if what she said about Bucky was true. Everyone always claimed you two were made for each other, put together by the gods. But doubt always prickled the back of your mind, like a rope yanking you away from believing he reciprocated the feeling.

You groaned, hugging your pillow even tighter. Why was your brain fighting itself constantly? In an attempt of distraction, you reached over and turned on the TV, only to instantly be playing Crazy Stupid Love. You cursed at the screen, but not changing the channel. Come on, are you really going to pass up a Ryan Gosling movie?

You dug out your hidden stash of candy and started binge eating (favorite candy), throwing some pieces at the TV while muttering grumpy comments. “It is not that easy to find meaningful love in the first place,” you grumbled. While most people yelled at the television during sports, it was your own specialty to yell at Rom-Com’s. 

About 30 minutes in, your eyes wandered to the dress Natasha had hung on the door handle for you, just in case. You had to admit, it was a really pretty dress. There was a pair of simple black heels next to it, begging to be worn. You tore your eyes away from the outfit before you could think more of it. Turns out it was a matter of minutes before you were out of bed, feeling the fabric of the dress under your fingertips. You had always been jealous of girls that could really pull off a beautiful dress, but you were never one of them. In all honesty, it was just your brain throwing you off. 

Another truth you had to admit to yourself, you were so tired of feeling like this. Anxious, afraid, stressed, sick to your stomach with loneliness. What did it matter what people thought of you? Maybe you weren’t the best Avenger, maybe you weren’t the best as socializing. You're always going to disappoint someone, so why the hell are you still worrying?

Right now, you could put on this dress, and go to this party. You could have fun, spend time with your friends. No, the Avengers had been your family for a while now. You could spend time with him too.

For a split second, you felt a surge of courage in your chest before doubt riddled your mind. Would Bucky like the dress? Would he make a comment, or would he even notice you in the crowd? No. These questions had to stop, enough what ifs.

Time to suit up.

30 minutes earlier

Bucky stood on the outside of the growing crowd, watching people drink and mingle. Of course Tony had to invite a little more people the necessary to his party. Bucky had only come because Steve had convinced him, telling him it’d be nice to relax, and how Buck could spend extra time with her. After many eye rolls and denials, he had reluctantly agreed to come. 

He had been brave enough this evening to roll up the sleeves of his white collared shirt, revealing his metal forearm. Some girls had approached him several times asking him to dance with them, but he brushed them off. There was only one girl that was ever on his mind nowadays.

It didn’t even make sense, why his heart had chosen to become romantically inclined to Y/N. She was way out of his league and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to be around her every second of the day. She was always sweet and kind, (if you're on her good side). She was always considerate and made sure that Bucky was well. He couldn’t keep his mind off of thinking about her supple lips and how her (messy, curly, straight, etc.) hair cascaded down her back and framed her flustered face. And those big (y/e/c) eyes that he could never resist, damn, he was screwed. But Bucky had no clue how to be in a serious relationship. The last thing he had that was even close was a one night stand in the 40′s. Things had surely changed.

He saw Natasha and Wanda walked through the elevator, hoping that Y/N was trailing behind them, but no luck. He met eyes with Nat, but she only gave him a sympathetic look and shook her head slightly. Bucky sighed, taking another sip of his drink and leaned against the wall. This was going to be a long night.

present time

So you know that feeling when you feel very confident about your outfit inside your home, but the moment you step out the door you regret every decision you ever made about this moment? Yeah, that was currently happening. 

You were now standing in the elevator alone, going up, and trying to properly breathe. The black dress Nat had loaned you worked perfectly for your body shape, and the heels weren’t even that uncomfortable for now. Your hair was (favorite style)’d neatly, and only very light makeup powdered your face. Lets just day you felt like you were going to throw up.

Clutching the fabric of the dress like it was a lifeline, you heard the elevator ding, music loud on the other side of the door. “Okay, Y/N, you can do this. You're going to be fine. Just find Nat.” You breathed to yourself, the door opening.

The lights in the penthouse let out a soft warm glow, giving just enough light to see people comfortably but not to be harsh. Candles were placed on each stand-up tables, and people in nice clothes were scattered around everywhere. Honestly, matched up with the view of New York, it was romantic and gorgeous. 

Before you could get a chance to look out into the crowd closely, you heard a surprised gasp from behind you. “Y/L/N, What on earth are you doin’ here?” 

You recognized Sam immediately, turning to find him in a nice dark shirt. “Uh, I’m not really sure,” You nervously laughed, ducking your head down. “Well, glad to see your actually alive and outside of your room. May I suggest getting a drink to start off the night?”

Bucky POV

(listen to At Last by Etta James for this part)

Leaning against one of the penthouse beams by the windows, Bucky watched the city traffic from above. Boredom was now an understatement. But that was until he heard a little bit of commotion going on behind him at the bar. 

He looked over his shoulder to see Natasha, Sam, and Wanda surrounding a head of beautiful (y/h/c) hair, that Bucky knew all too well. His heart picked up pace as he realized that Y/N had actually shown, and especially when she turned and Buck could see her fully. She wore a beautiful black dress that displayed her curves and her hair was (favorite hairstyle) that framed her face. Her eyes were bright as she showed off that gorgeous smile, her cheeks flustered slightly like normal. Bucky’s brain couldn’t process much more of her, stuck on an overload of his senses with how much he realized he craved her by his side constantly. 

His gaze lingered on her form for a little longer before she turned to him, finally noticing him standing across the room. Her grin turned into a shyly sweet smile as they met eyes, and Bucky felt a pull telling him to go to her. As Nat, Wanda and Sam saw Bucky heading over, Nat winked at Y/N before they left. Pushing past random people, he didn’t take his eyes off her as he finally reached Y/N. “Hey, doll.”

“Hi, Bucky. Thank god your here too,” She said, her voice light. Bucky couldn’t help but grin. She made him so happy. “So, how come you finally decide to show? I gotta say I'm pleasantly surprised,” He asked while signaling the bartender. “Well, I got tired of watching cheesy movies and eating candy and thought about seeing what was going on upstairs,” She sighed. The bartender arrived, Bucky signaled Y/N to order first. “Classic Manhattan, please.” Buck added on, “Whiskey, neat. Thanks,” 

“Let me guess, you were getting into some soppy romance movie and felt bad about yourself so you came up here, right?” Bucky said, chuckling and meeting your eyes again. You rolled your eyes, but not being able to hide that he knew you too well. “Maybe. You know I’m a sucker for that stuff,”  You admitted, a guilty smile on your lips.

Before Bucky could reply, he recognized the beginning melody of a song he actually recognized. “Oh, oh no. You have to dance with me now,” Bucky said, putting his drink down. 

3rd Person POV

”What do you mean I have to dance with you now?” She questioned, giving him a look. Before he could answer back, he grabbed her hand and pulled Y/N lightly to the middle of the dance floor, amongst other slow dancing couples. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Bucky turned to her, his eyes silently asking if what he was doing was making her uncomfortable. To reassure him, Y/N lifted up her hand, signaling for him to take it. Time seemingly slowed down as they both realized how much they enjoyed this moment. He accordingly sliding his fingers between hers and looped his cool chrome arm around her waist. She could tell he was slightly hesitant, like he was eager but afraid to break Y/N all at once. 

He slowly pulled her closer to him, almost possessive like, till her body was pressed against his broad chest, and Y/N followed his calm and steady steps as the song’s true beat began. All the nervousness she had been feeling since she stepped into this dress disappeared into the night, till is seemed to be only her and Bucky dancing. 

“At last...”

“My love has come along...”

“My lonely days are over...”

Bucky breathed out shakily, admitting to himself that this had been the first time he was close to a girl (other than trying to kill her), since the 40s. He relished the feeling Y/N’s heart beat against his, and how right it felt to have her in his arms, safe and sound. 

“And life is like a song...”

“Oh yeah yeah,

At Last...”

Bucky slowly moved his head forward, just enough to rest his cheek on Y/N’s hair. Y/N moved to rest her head in the crook of his neck, closing her eyes as she thought about how she never wanted to let go.

“The skies above are blue..”

“My heart is wrapped up in clover...”

“The night I looked at you...”

For the rest of the song, they stayed in perfect harmony wrapped up in the other's limbs, simply existing for each other. 

“Okay, sunshine, I think we need to take you back to your room,” Bucky said, leading you out into the hallway. You let out a girlish giggle, placing your hand over his on your arm to make sure you didn't stumble. “Oh, whatever. I’m perfectly fine, especially when you're here,”

Bucky rolled his eyes with a smirk. Y/N had become terribly drunk after the past couple hours, and Bucky had taken on the liberty of watching out for her. He honestly expected her to be a crying weepy drunk, but she thought everything was hilarious after her 4th Manhattan. Afters successfully getting her into the elevator, he was suprised when he felt her finger touch the tip of his nose, her making a ‘boop’ sound. “You're pretty cute, with your face and all. I don’t even know why you're with me when you could be with that pretty black-haired girl that was staring you down all night.” She points a finger in her mouth and made a ‘bleh’ sound. “If I did leave, who would be there to drag you to your bed?” Bucky said, hands still on her arms considering her state. 

“Meh, I’d make it. ‘Might take me a couple hours, but I’d do it.”

The rest of the way, Buck had to fight her back into her room, where she started refusing, claiming ‘sleep was for the weak’. “Why are you so stubborn, doll?” He said, opening her door with a creak and pushing her in. “Because I want what I want.” 

“I’m afraid that doesn’t make sense, either.”

She scoffed at him, taking off her heels and flopping on her bed. She must have seen that Crazy Stupid Love was still paused on the TV, as her face turned to a frown. Buck watched her curiously for a couple seconds in silence. “Why is it, that everyone but me seems to be able to get men? I mean, Nat could literally seduce anybody or anything. Wanda obviously has a cute thing with Vis. But why am I the odd one out?” She spoke softly, all the giggly playfulness out of her expression. “Well, who says your the odd one?” Bucky said, sitting next to her. He had forced his voice to be as gentle and comforting as possible, seeing that her eyes were filled with some unknown emotion now. He longed to engulf her in his arms again, reassure her that someone, that he, loved her truly and deeply.  

“I haven’t even been close to a guy since high school, and I don’t have the courage to talk to anyone. Not to mention I have no idea how to act. Everyone just sees me as invisible, like always...” She sighed, putting her hands in her lap. Her hair was messier than previous, illuminated from the soft light of her nightstand lamp as she tucked it behind her ear. Her breath smelled faintly of alcohol, her lips pink and wet from running her tongue across them. “I know for a fact that isn’t true. Plenty of guys were staring at you tonight,” He growled the last part, remembering how protective he felt over you. If anyone of those guys would have approached you that night Bucky would have certainly knocked their teeth out. 

She ‘pffft’ again, shoving his shoulder back when Bucky couldn’t contain himself any longer, catching your cheek and pressing his lips into hers. 

She didn’t pull away as Bucky let it last for a few more seconds, basking in the feeling of her warm lips on his. After she still hadn’t responded, he pulled away slightly, wondering if he had crossed a line. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of-” He muttered, dropping his hand. Before anything else could be exchanged, left the room, running his hands through his hair as he walked back to the elevator. What had he done, had he ruined everything? Maybe she wouldn’t rememberit in the morning, maybe she’d pretend it didn’t happen-

“Bucky!” He heard a hoarse voice yell, and he turned back around just in time to see an angry stomping Y/N, before she jumped into his arms, grabbed his face and kissed him bruisingly. Thank god because of Bucky’s reflexes, he caught her hips just in time and kissed her back thouroughly. 

Gasping for breath, Y/N pulled back, lips already swollen. “I adore you.”

Bucky only smiled and pulled her in for another hot open mouthed kiss.

At Last. 

Thank you guys for putting up with my shit if you made it this far, this is my first one shot in a while so it’s a little rough :) *applaudes you*