#but now going back and forth and taking notes? it's so glaringly obvious

[doom-dreaming]

day 4 in the book mines and i'm going full tinfoil hat about this shit

[leclerc-hs]

tachycardia pt.2 - cl16

pairing: doctor!charles leclerc x nurse!reader (alpha/omega au) summary: in which you don't always get along with the arrogant alpha doctor warnings: LIGHT a/b/o dynamics, angst??, none really (yet!), badly translated French (didn't really put french in this), NOT PROOFREAD word count: 1.5k author's note: hi!!!!!! did you miss me??? I missed all of you! sorry this is SO short but I wanted to post something in honor of reaching 2,000 FOLLOWERS!!! I love u all sm and I'm sorry this is kinda shit. I've been in a really bad writing funk recently but I'm hoping to get out of it. don’t forget to talk to me and don’t be shy I love to hear from all of you!!!! I will try to get the ball rolling on this series as soon as I can. I just kinda started it without even knowing where I wanted it to go so I'm kinda just winging it as I write with whatever comes to mind. if you have anything you would like to see happen in this series PLEASE don’t be shy and let me know I love to hear your thoughts and ideas!!!! xoxo taglist: @amalialeclerc @barcelonaloverf1life @charizznorizz @magicpancake @zabwlky1999

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AS YOU SIT across from your younger sister in the cozy confines of the café adjacent to the bustling hospital, you can’t help but marvel at the enigmatic workings of her mind.

“Is it really like that? Sex in the on-call rooms?” The question bursts forth accompanied by a hearty laugh, your body leaning forward in laughter. 

“How many times do I have to tell you no?”  You retort, meeting her gaze with an air of firmness amidst the playful banter. 

“What about in the locker room?” She presses further, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“No, and stop indulging in such ludicrous fantasies.” You respond, bringing your cup of coffee to your mouth, you pause before taking a sip. “You know well enough that I don’t engage in relationships with doctors.” A fleeting sense of contentment washes over you with the warmth of the coffee. 

She emits a deep sigh, deeply annoyed. “Are any of them at least cute?”

You feel your stomach churn as the image of Doctor Leclerc floods your thoughts. He’s far more than just attractive. You hesitate for a beat, staring at her wide, expectant eyes. “Yes.”

Her eyes light up almost instantly. “Who?”

“I forget. I don’t really know him.” Liar.

“What does he look like?”

“Brown hair. Very green eyes.” Your fingers twiddle with the napkin on the table, feigning disinterest.

She gives you a skeptical look as if she can read your mind and tell you’re lying. But she doesn’t push further. “When do you have to be back?”

You briefly glance at the time on the screen of your phone, “Shit.” Rising abruptly, you shove the chair back with a jolt, shooting your sister an apologetic glance. “I have to go. I’ll see you at mom’s this weekend?”

You’re already pushing the front door of the café open by the time you hear your sister half-shout, “Yes!”

-

You burst into your patient’s room, breaths coming in ragged gasps, cheeks flushed with exertion. You say a silent prayer to whatever higher power that he wasn’t here yet. 

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” 

Did you mention that this particular patient has a knack for hitting on you?

Your heart skips a beat, and if it weren’t for the already flushed hue of your cheeks, you’re certain the blush creeping up on your neck would be glaringly obvious.

“Mr.,” You pause to glance at the chart to double-check his name, “Mr. Hart, how are you feeling today?”

“Meilleur, now that you’re here.” Better. You curl your lips upward into a soft smile, jokingly rolling your eyes at his antics.

“Surely you’re sick of seeing my face, Mr. Hart.” You quip, reaching for a stool beside his bed while simultaneously checking his IV bags. “Today’s the day I think!”

Mr. Hart has been in the hospital for over a week, recovering from a surgery for a atrial septal defect.  

“Jamais.” Never. He insists, his head sinking back against the pillow as his gaze follows your every movement. “I’m so close to being able to ask you out properly.”

In that moment, a new scent permeates the air, distinct and alluring. Without even turning around, you sense his presence—the man who just breezed in behind you. Whether he heard the exchange or not, you weren’t sure, but the subtle shift in the atmosphere is palpable regardless.

“Mr. Hart,” His voice, deep and honeyed, washes over you, almost too sweet to be genuine. “Still stirring up trouble for our lovely nurses?” Despite the playful tone, you can sense an undercurrent of something morecalculated beneath his words. His presence radiates warmth, his tall figure looming beside you, close enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. 

“No,” Mr. Hart grins. “Just her.”

Doctor Leclerc’s smile remains fixed, but you catch the subtle clench of his jaw as you turn your head to meet his gaze. “Just stopping by to let you know that we might need to keep you for another night.”

The news catches you off guard; you were under the impression that Mr. Hart would be discharged by the end of the day. As if he could sense the questions brewing in your mind, Doctor Leclerc continues, his voice reassuring. “Just a precautionary measure. I assure you; we’ll have you cleared to leave bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Mr. Hart hums nonchalantly, as if the prospect of another night in the hospital doesn’t bother him in the slightest. His attention remains fixated on you as you inspect the sutures on his chest, his fingertips grazing against your gloved hand with a deliberate touch. “Can’t complain as long as she’s the one checking on me.”

You let out a small laugh, but don’t say anything, as you stand up and remove the gloves to toss them in the waste bin nearby.  

“Mr. Hart,” Doctor Leclerc’s voice is unamused now. “You would be wise to refrain your hands from touching her again. Next time I won’t ask so politely.”

-

Pressed against a wall while in the presence of Doctor Leclerc seems to be a common occurrence nowadays. His tall frame blocking any potential onlookers from seeing who he had cornered.

“Dis-moi,” Tell me. His voice is low, lethal. “Do you flirt with patients often, hm?” 

“What is your problem?” You quip, your brows furrowed as you crane your neck back to look him in the eyes. 

“My problem?” He scoffs, leaning closer to your face, his lips thinned in annoyance. “My problem is that I have to stand there and watch a patient flirt with you,” He clicks his tongue in frustration, turning his head to look away for a brief moment. Giving you a moment, to take in the sharpness of his jawline, and the unshaven scruff that shadows it. “And you…” His voice trailed off.

“And I, what?” You pulled your lips into a slight frown.

“You smell like that,” His hands wavered around your body, in an exasperated manner.

“Smell like what?” 

As he shook his head in disbelief, a mixture of frustration and something deeper etched acoss his features. The disbelief seemed to stem from his inability to fathom that you were completely unaware of something soevident to him. It was that scent, the sweet floral scent that always accompanied you. It drove him mad sometimes. How it was almost the only thing he could focus on sometimes.

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he took a deliberate step back, as if needed physical distance to collect his thoughts.

Ignoring your inquiry, his gaze softened, the intensity in his eyes giving way to a gentler expression as they locked on yours.

Caught off guard by the swift change in his demeanor, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of whiplash from the abrupt shift.

“I wouldn’t say often,” you began, punctuating the order with a slight shrug. “It’s all harmless.”

His response was solemn, his voice carrying a weight of protectiveness that left no room for misinterpretation. “I don’t want them to put their hands on you ever again,” he declared firmly. “If you ever have issues, you can come to me.”

His words resonated with a gravity that made it clear he meant every syllable, his stance unwavering in its determination to shield you from harm.

Your throat tightened as you swallowed, acutely aware of the intensity in his gaze tracing the delicate curve of your neck.

“Moving forward, I will be the one to check on Mr. Hart,” he announced, his voice carrying a note of authority softened by a touch of concern.

With a deliberate motion, he extended his arm, his fingers brushing against your skin as he gently tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

The proximity of his touch sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the tenderness in his gesture catching you off guard, yet somehow soothing in its unexpectedness. Dr. Leclerc’s presence seemed to envelop you whenever he was near. As if nothing else in the world existed no matter the premise of the discussion, including the constant bickering you two always seemed to do.

“Will you be at James’ retirement party?” The question slipped from your lips before you could fully weigh its significance. Yet, deep down, you knew the answer matters more to you than you cared to admit. You found yourself wanting him to be there, though the reasons remained elusive, even to yourself.

Yes, he was an ass to you most of the time. But, for some reason you couldn’t really fathom, he was always in the forefront of your mind.

His head tilted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Though he would never openly confess, the idea of attending hadn’t crossed his mind until that moment. However, if there was even the slightest chance that you would be there, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. 

“Yes,” he replied simply, the single word carrying more weight than its brevity suggested.

You nodded slowly, as if processing his response required a deeper level of understanding. “See you there?” You ventured, the question hanging in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.

He nodded, pulling his lips into the faintest smirk.

“See you there, mon lapin.”

[arabellatheauthor]

i wasn't gonna comment on this but i saw the following in the notes and needed to jump in

so, hi, filmmaker here, I also went to film school but that's kind of irrelevant because i do this for a living

There was more than one take, Neil has confirmed this. When he said they shot it once, he was saying they shot the scene once. It is not only highly unlikely that they used 3 cameras for different angles, it's nearly impossible. Allow me to explain.

Shooting film and shooting tv have some similarities and differences, but for the most part, film is shot with 1 camera, as is most television. When there is a second camera, it is far more rare, and usually only to get other angles on shots that would be hard to replicate (i.e. burning a building down). It's also called B cam for a reason, in that it's b-roll type footage, it's getting details maybe, but it's not the main camera. TV is generally shot the same way. When people think of using multiple cameras to shoot, they're thinking of a multi-cam TV show, which is generally a half-hour sitcom shot on a standing set facing a live audience (which is much rarer these days anyway). Most TV is single-cam.

But the glaringly obvious reason to me for why I doubt this was shot in one take with multiple cameras (besides Neil's answer) is that that's not how lighting works. Unless you're on a stage (think multi-cam) where all the lighting is overhead on a grid and it's pretty flat, you're going to be changing the lighting for each set up. Yes, that means that if you're shooting Crowley's take and then swing the camera around to shoot Azirapahle's you're almost certainly tweaking the lighting. Because it's a different angle, and that's just how it works. So it really doesn't work to shoot the same shot from multiple cameras unless the lighting is pretty flat and even, and I don't think that's the case here.

I didn't see the theory going around about editing it to be longer, but I would invite OP to reconsider their stance about editing being a bullshit way to craft the scene. I don't really edit for hire anymore, I work in other departments now, but I have a lot of respect for editors because they can absolutely make or break a project. If you're a director and you've worked with an editor who isn't very good at it, then you know the insane frustration of watching them butcher perfectly good footage. Editing is an art just like any other part of filmmaking, and it requires a sense of timing, pacing, and understanding of emotional flow. So I'm not really sure what the point was meant to be about the editing not being important in that shot or elongating it. We elongate scenes all the time by cutting back and forth, and that shot is clearly not a single take.

None of this takes away from the actors' portrayal or skills btw. It's just another part of the process.

Anyway, that's my little education lesson for the day. Feel free to ask me questions about filmmaking, I'm bored and I like my job so I'll talk about it anytime.

Sorry to ruin the movie magic for some of you, but it's extremely unlikely that the shots of The Kiss are edited to be longer. Like, a million to one.

How do I know? I'm in school for filmmaking, so I'll share a bit with you.

1. The first reason is the most important. It is very difficult to edit a shot to be longer (and almost never done, especially by professionals) and not have it be obvious. It is painfully obvious, particularly to other filmmakers, when someone does actually do this. I can almost guarantee that if this had happened, other filmmakers in the industry most certainly would have called them out for it. I've personally watched the scene literally thousands of times (I'm not exaggerating) and in my semi-professional opinion (yes, I've already made my own films, though I haven't been paid for any of my work yet), it's not edited to be longer.

2. Nearly as important and launching off the above, it's much more likely - and more easily and actually often done - that it's edited to be shorter.

Additionally, there's no reason to think it would be edited to be longer when it comes to the story. It's unnecessary. The reason it looks so awkward to solve of you is because - newsflash - it IS awkward! It's meant to be awkward!

Aziraphale is caught off guard, during a moment of being about to break down, crying, in the midst of an argument. He was just rejected. He's potentially thought about this moment so many times. It is possible he thought The Metatron was threatening Crowley, which just happened only a few minutes ago! And lastly, there's literally thousands of years of feelings that haven't been spoken aloud - at least not properly, depending which theory you follow.

And there's even more depending which theories you subscribe to that support this even further.

And then, there's the fact that, at least for a moment, he kisses him back. He goes from being surprised, to resistance, to acceptance, to reciprocation, to rejection in a matter of less than 30 freaking seconds - while also portraying all the unspokenness, uncertainty, and fear of 6000 years, as well as a possible threat AND rejection of Crowley refusing to come with him ALL AT THE SAME TIME.

It's so awkward and complicated and terrible - and yet also wonderful - and Michael Sheen is honestly a fucking MASTER for the amount of emotions he's able to portray in such an insanely small amount of time. Please please PLEASE don't reduce his abilities and the beauty of the story to editing some bullshit that any filmmaker with any actual integrity would never do.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Summer Heat and Moonlit Kisses - Fred Weasley

Title: Summer Heat and Moonlit Kisses Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred and Y/N have been dancing around their feelings for each other since their friendship began, both of them too afraid to admit how they truly feel. But can a summer at the burrow change all that? A/N: for the anon who wanted some fluff at the burrow, with Fred and the reader confessing their feelings for each other! In case it isn’t obvious this takes place between Fred and George’s 6th and 7th year! Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Smack!

All of the Weasley’s sitting at the breakfast table flinch, and Fred turns around just in time to see Errol sliding down the kitchen window, a few letters clutched in his beak. Everyone else gets back to their conversations, and before Molly can tell one of the kids to grab the post, Fred is jumping out of his chair.

“I’ll get it!” he announces, bounding over to the window. He throws the window open, reaching down to pick up Errol before setting him on the ledge and taking the mail from his beak. Fred’s fingers shuffle through the few envelopes quickly, pausing when he sees one addressed to him in familiar loopy letters. He tucks the letter into the back pocket of his jeans as he places the rest of the mail in his mother’s outstretched hand.

Everyone else is too preoccupied eating or talking to notice Fred’s excitement over the mail, except for George of course.

“What’s got you so smiley, Freddie?” he teases as Fred sits back down in his chair.

Fred immediately drops all the emotion from his face, taking a bite of his eggs. “No idea what you’re on about, George.”

George rolls his eyes and reaches behind Fred to pull the letter out of his back pocket. Fred immediately tries to grab it back, but George pulls away too quickly. “Bet you don’t have any idea what this is either then?”

“Shove off, git,” Fred grumbles. “Last I checked it wasn’t a crime to send someone a letter.”

“Okay, drama queen, I wasn’t accusing you of anything,” George huffs. He takes a look at the envelope, suddenly understanding Fred’s odd behavior. “Should have figured it was from Y/N,” George teases before handing the letter back to Fred. “You always get like this when it comes to her.”

Fred waits for Molly to turn her back before he flips his brother off, praying the blush on his cheeks isn’t obvious. “I don’t act any differently around Y/N than I do around any of my other friends.”

“Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that,” George retorts before he leans over to steal a piece of toast off of Ron’s plate.

With everyone distracted Fred slips out of his chair and up the stairs, so he can pour over Y/N’s letter far away from George’s accusatory glances.

-

“I don’t know why anyone would want to come here to spend the summer with you two gits,” Ron jokes as he flies in between George and Fred. Fred launches the Quaffle in his hand at Ron and both twins cheer excitedly when it hits him in the back of his head. “Fuck off asshole!” Ron shouts, flipping them off behind his back.

It’s been a few days since Fred received Y/N’s letter, and excitement has been running through his veins ever since. He’d been trying to get her to come spend the summer at The Burrow since before term even ended, and it her latest letter she’d finally agreed to come. Y/N is due to arrive sometime this afternoon, and Fred’s inability to stay still caused Molly to kick him, George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Hermione out of the house. Everyone apart from Hermione has been whizzing around the back garden on their brooms, passing a Quaffle back and forth for the past few hours.

“I’m surprised it took Y/N so long to say yes,” George comments idly as he comes up next to Fred.

Fred’s eyebrows furrow and he looks over at George. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t be that daft,” George insists with an eyeroll. “She would crawl inside of your pocket and just sit there if she could. You guys are together almost as much as you and I are.”

“Last I checked friends are supposed to spend time together,” Fred responds casually, trying not to read into what George is saying. “You and Y/N spend a load of time together too.”

“Fair point,” George admits. “But I’m not the one she’s been sending letters to the past few weeks.”

Fred bites his lip, looking away from George. Fred didn’t truly take notice of Y/N until third year, but he didn’t pay much attention to anything besides George, Lee and mischief before then. That’s when he first started noticing girls, and it seemed that every week he fancied a different girl in his year, until his attention landed on Y/N. Of course, he knew of her, they were in the same year and in the same house, but it wasn’t until a few weeks into term when he really noticed her, and he hasn’t stopped noticing her since.

One second he’d been thinking about the new bludger bat his parents had scrapped enough money together to buy, and the next his eyes were trained on Y/N, unable to look away as she tipped her head back and laughed at something Angelina said. All the fires in the castle had been turned on to keep away the autumn chill, and Y/N’s cheeks were rosy from the heat. Her eyes were bright with joy and her hair looked like a waterfall as it cascaded down her back. Her laugh sent a shiver down his spine, and he decided in that moment he’d do anything to hear her laugh like that again.

This mission is of course what started their friendship, since one of Fred’s attempts at making her laugh went awry and landed them both in detention for a few nights. Luckily, Y/N had thought his plan to charm Snape’s cauldron to explode was brilliant, so she didn’t mind scrubbing the tables in the Potion’s classroom with him. Like his other crushes, Fred figured his feelings for Y/N would fizzle out and he’d be left with a new friend instead, but the more time they spent together the more intensely he started to feel for her.

Fred didn’t realize how desperately he craved being something more with Y/N until last school year, when Adrian Pucey took her to the Yule Ball. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her all night, she looked more radiant than ever and Fred got angry every time Adrian got to touch her and he didn’t. Fred had suddenly realized that friendship wasn’t enough for him anymore, but Y/N had become such a big part of his life, he didn’t want to risk giving that up. Y/N has Fred wrapped around her finger, and Fred will do anything to make her happy, even if he has to suffer for it. He basks in every moment that they spend together, in every touch they share and every close moment. It doesn’t mean the same to her as it does to him, no matter how many times George tells him it does.

“Hey, Hermione. Good book?” Y/N asks, coming up behind the younger girl.

Hermione turns around excitedly, putting her book down so she can get up and hug her friend. “Y/N! When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Seems everyone is a bit too busy to notice,” Y/N responds with a laugh, returning Hermione’s hug.

Hermione pulls away from Y/N, giving her a knowing smile. “Fred will be so excited to see you. He was practically bouncing off the walls this morning.”

“You’re just saying that,” Y/N insists as she blushes, shoving Hermione’s shoulder playfully. Y/N has had a crush on Fred for as long as she can remember, and when they finally became friends in third year she hoped that it would turn into more. Much to her dismay it never did, and no matter how hard she tries to view Fred as just a friend she can’t. He’s absolutely captivating and being around Fred makes her feel dizzy. She had initially rejected his offers to come stay with his family due to her glaringly obvious crush, but the thought of getting even more time with the ginger boy was too enticing to give up.

“As if,” Hermione responds. “Why do you think we’re all out here in the blaring hot sun? Mrs. Weasley kicked us all out of the house because she was tired of dealing with Fred.”

Luckily for Y/N Ginny notices her presence a moment later and when she heads towards the ground at lightning speed shouting her name, the boys take notice of her too and start to head back towards the ground.

“Finally, you’re here!” Ginny greets, practically jumping into Y/N’s arms. She hugs her tightly, laughing as Y/N pokes her in the ribs. “Maybe now Fred will finally shut up about you.”

“It’s nice to see you too, Gin,” Y/N giggles, putting her down. As reluctant as they are to admit it, Fred and George love their siblings, and being friends with them means the whole Weasley clan comes with. After Ginny’s hellish first year at Hogwarts, Fred had expressed his worry for her to Y/N and she took it upon herself to take Ginny under her wing and look out for her.

Ron and Harry reach them next and Y/N greets them both briefly. They’re both fairly awkward around girls still, something both Fred and George love to tease them about. Y/N finds it endearing, but it does make it hard to be around them since Harry can barely look her in the eyes and Ron struggles to finish his sentences. They end up running off after each other as George comes up and pulls Y/N into a hug.

“Welcome to the crazy house,” he teases with a laugh. “You’re going to regret your decision to stay here.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as they pull away. “You guys aren’t that bad. At least here your Mum is around. You may not be afraid of Snape or McGonagall, but I know for a fact you’re afraid of her.”

“Where’s my hug then?” Fred asks as he comes up behind George, and Y/N’s eyes widen as George steps out of the way and Fred comes into view.

Fred runs a hand through his messy hair as he approaches, and Y/N practically drools at the way his veins in his forearm pop out. He’d lost his shirt at some point during the day, so his skin is tinted pink from the sun and the sheen of sweat attached to it is glistening in the bright light. Y/N lets her eyes trace every line of his defined torso, taking special note of how low his jeans are hanging on his hips.

“Freddie!” Y/N squeals as his arms wrap around her waist so he can lift her up. Her arms wrap around Fred’s neck as her legs wrap around his waist, clinging to him tightly. Hermione gives Y/N a look as she leads Ginny away, prompting her to stick her tongue out at the younger girl.

Fred presses his face into Y/N’s neck, breathing in deeply. She smells like she always does, lavender and vanilla, and it makes Fred feel like he’s finally at home. “Missed you,” he mumbles into her neck, resisting his urge to press a kiss to her soft skin. He rests his chin on Y/N’s shoulder, his eyes narrowing as George makes a kissy face before disappearing back into the house.

“Missed you too, Freddie,” Y/N says softly. A shiver runs down her spine as his hands shove under her shirt to rest on the small of her back and her legs involuntarily tighten around his waist. “Ugh, you’re so sweaty,” she teases, twirling a lock off his hair around her finger.

Fred rubs the sweat on his forehead into Y/N’s neck, smiling as she squeals and giggles. “There, now you’re all sweaty too,” he announces happily, pulling away to grin at her.

“You’re insufferable,” Y/N teases, sticking her tongue out at Fred. She can feel his fingers digging into the small of her back, and every time he shifts his back ripples against her calves. Y/N hopes that the blush on her cheeks can be mistaken for the beginning of a sunburn, and she wiggles in Fred’s grip. “Put me down you oaf.”

Fred bites his lip to stifle the groan that wants to escape. Having Y/N in his arms feels like heaven and he squeezes her once more before reluctantly placing her back on the ground. “As you wish, my Queen,” he teases, giving Y/N a sloppy curtsy.

Y/N rolls her eyes playfully. “Maybe George is right, I’m already regretting my decision. I’m just gonna grab my trunk and go home.”

“Oh you’re really in for it now, Y/N!” Fred shouts, chasing her around the garden as they both laugh wildly.

-

“What the hell is that?” Ginny asks, pulling Y/N and Hermione from their conversation so they can look at what she’s pointing to. They’re heading across the back garden, bathing suits on and towels in hand so they can beat the heat at the pond behind the Burrow.

Y/N’s first few days at the Burrow have been incredible, but it’s getting harder and harder to contain her feelings for Fred.  With the unusually hot weather England has been experiencing he’s taken to walking around without a shirt on, and Y/N practically drools every time she looks at him. It doesn’t help that he’s become much more affectionate with her recently. It’s always very casual, like a hand on her thigh at the table or an arm around her shoulders while they all sit on the couch. But every time his bare skin touches hers goosebumps erupt all over her body. Not to mention every time he comes down for breakfast his voice is still raspy with sleep and his hair is tousled. Y/N has had to excuse herself from the room nearly every morning to stop herself from pulling their mouths together.

Y/N watches in awe and somewhat horror as George kneels on Ron’s back, one of his hands pushing his brother’s face into the dirt. Fred and Harry are cheering him on while Ron struggles to get out of his brother’s grasp.

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it,” Hermione responds with a grimace.

The three girls share a look before making a detour to head over towards the boys. They’re all so captivated by what’s going on that they don’t notice the girls have arrived until Y/N clears her throat.

“Do I even want to know?” she asks as all four boys look over at them. Ron and Harry immediately drop their gaze to the ground, their cheeks flushing nearly the same color red, clearly flustered by the lack of clothing the girl’s have on.

Fred’s eyes rake over Y/N’s body, and if he wasn’t already red from the sun he’s sure his cheeks would be burning bright red. Her hair frames her face perfectly, and the sun shining behind her makes it look like she’s glowing. Greek goddesses would be envious of her beauty, and Fred bites his tongue to keep from blurting out all the feelings he’s shoveling down.

“Some muggle thing Harry told us about,” George answers when no one else speaks up. “Wrestling I think. Right, Harry?” George looks over at the younger boy, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles out of his mouth. “Blimey, Harry. You ever see a girl in a swimsuit before?” he teases.

George’s laughter snaps Fred out of his daydream and he reaches over to ruffle Harry’s hair. “Aw poor bloke, still so shy.”

“Boys are weird,” Ginny responds with an eye roll before turning and walking away. Hermione follows quickly after her, and Y/N can’t help but spot the slight blush on her cheeks.

George finally releases Ron and sits back in the grass. “You fancy a go Y/N?” he asks playfully. “Fred was supposed to take Harry on next but I’m sure he’d much rather wrestle with you.”

“Fuck off,” Fred chides, shoving George. “Maybe I should shove your face in the dirt.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, forcing herself to look away from Fred’s bare shoulders. Freckles litter the pale skin, and if Y/N isn’t careful she can get lost in them for hours. “As thrilling as it would be to watch Fred make you eat dirt, it’s hot and I’m going swimming. So you boys can continue with whatever weirdness that was or you can join me.”

“Race you to the pond!” George shouts, kicking off his shoes before taking off in the same direction as Ginny and Hermione have gone. Ron and Harry mumble something about flying before they take off, leaving Y/N and Fred alone.

“You coming, Freddie?” Y/N asks, biting her lip. Fred holds both of his hands out, and Y/N sighs, rolling her eyes playfully. She throws the towel in her hand over her shoulder so she can grab Fred’s hands, a tingle shooting up her arm and straight to her head when they touch.

Fred grins as Y/N pulls him up, purposefully stumbling a bit so he can pull her into a hug. “Thanks for the hand, princess.”

“Yeah you needed it you oaf,” Y/N teases, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach from Fred’s nickname. “Now carry me to the pond!” she demands, pushing him away slightly.

“Of course, my Queen!” Fred drops down in front of Y/N, trying to calm himself down as she climbs on his back. He grips her thighs tightly as he stands to make sure she doesn’t fall. Once her arms have wound around his neck he takes off. “To the pond we go!”

Hermione, Ginny and George are already splashing in the water as they approach and George stops trying to shove Ginny’s head under the water when they come into view.

“Nice of you two to finally join us,” George teases. Before Fred or Y/N can tell him to shove it, Ginny is slinging herself onto his back and pulling him under the water.

“I knew Ginny was always my favorite,” Fred laughs as George flounders around to try and get Ginny off of him. He turns to give Y/N a grin. “Your turn, princess.”

“Fred, no!” Y/N laughs, but it’s too late. Fred is grabbing her off of his back and into his arms, throwing her out into the water. The cold water shocks her warm skin, and Y/N fights back to the surface so she can tell Fred off. But as she wipes the water from her eyes the words that used to be on the tip of her tongue go to the back of her throat as she swallows thickly. Y/N watches as Fred shimmies out of his pants and inch by inch his pale muscular thighs come into view.

“Like the view?” Hermione whispers into Y/N’s ear.

Y/N turns around to glare at Hermione, splashing some water at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Instead of responding Hermione splashes her back, and within a few minutes all five of them are pushing water at each other, laughing and chasing each other through the water. George and Ginny are the first to exit the water to rest on the grass, both tired from the splash fight and their attempts to drown the other.  Y/N moves a bit deeper into the pond and lets her eyes close as she lays on her back, just floating around to let the cool water lap at her skin.

“Oh,” Y/N gasps as a warm hand wraps around her ankle. She opens her eyes and picks her head up, grinning when she sees Fred looking over at her. “Where did Hermione go?”

Fred tilts his head back, gesturing towards the shore. “She left a few minutes ago, mumbling something about going to find Harry and Ron.”

“So you’ve just been what? Staring at me?” Y/N asks.

Fred nods slightly. “I was thinking about pulling you under the water. I was trying to plan my escape route,” he lies. Truthfully Fred had been studying Y/N. He was tracing the long shadows her eyelashes cast on her cheeks, imagining what it would be like to trace them with his finger. He had watched her chest rise and fall slowly with each breath she took, wondering if he’d be able to feel her heartbeat if he held her close.

“You would have been a dead man, Fred Weasley,” Y/N warns. A shiver runs down her spine as Fred uses his grip on her ankle to pull her body closer. “Water’s getting cold,” she says a moment later, trying to excuse her weird behavior.

Fred knows that he should suggest getting out of the water so the sun can warm them back up, but he can’t resist an opportunity to be close to her. So instead he pulls her onto his lap, so Y/N is straddling his waist. “Come closer, then. I’ll warm you up.”

Y/N wraps her arms around Fred’s neck, so they’re resting on his warm shoulders and she rests her chin on one of her arms. Neither of them says anything as Fred’s arm wind around her waist, his head coming to rest on her shoulder and his face pressed into her neck. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed, and she lets one of her fingers trace mindless patterns on Fred’s back, just letting herself enjoy their moment together.

-

“So Y/N,” Ginny starts as all three girls settle onto her bed that night. They’re all exhausted from the time they spent in the water and out in the sun, so they opted out of the boy’s usual nighttime shenanigans in favor of their pajamas and some girl talk.

“Yes?” Y/N asks as she rips open a cauldron cake.

“When are you going to tell Fred you like him?” Ginny asks suggestively.

Y/N coughs as she chokes on her cauldron cake, shooting Hermione a look of thanks when she hits her on the back. “I’m sorry, what?”

Ginny rolls her eyes playfully. “I said when are you going to tell Fred you like him?”

“I don’t like Fred,” Y/N insists. When Ginny and Hermione share a look, Y/N frowns. “I don’t!”

“Oh please,” Ginny scoffs. “I saw you two today, at the pond. I had my suspicions before but,” she pauses to take a bite of her candy bar. “But that right there was all the proof I needed,” she finishes as she chews.

Y/N blushes as Hermione’s eyes light up. “The pond? What happened at the pond?”

“Nothing!” Y/N says firmly, giving Ginny a look. “Nothing happened at the pond.” Something definitely happened at the pond, but Y/N is still unsure of what exactly it was. Sitting close to Fred, hell even sometimes cuddling Fred is a normal part of their friendship. When Fred is tired he gets cuddly, and there have been a few times that Y/N lulled him to sleep by running a hand through his hair while they sat on a couch in the common room with his head in her lap. But sitting in the water with Fred today felt different. It felt like she couldn’t get close enough to him, like every inch of her body craved to be touching Fred in some way. And Y/N couldn’t help but think that Fred had felt the same way. When Ron had come to get them for lunch both of them were reluctant to pull away and Y/N could have sworn that there was a moment when Fred leaned in as if he was going to kiss her.

“They were all cuddled up together,” Ginny reveals, ignoring the glare Y/N gives her. “Y/N was sitting in his lap, their arms were wrapped around each other. It really was quite cute.”

“I can’t believe I missed that!” Hermione pouts.

“Okay so maybe I do have feelings for Fred,” Y/N mumbles, flipping both girls off as they cheer. “But there’s no way he feels the same way. We’ve been friends for nearly four years now, if it was going to happen it would have already.”

“Are you mad?” Ginny asks. “Y/N, there is literally no way Fred doesn’t feel the same way. I swear he turns into mush whenever you’re around. Hell, the only time he’s actually quiet is when you’re nearby. He was moping around every day until you finally agreed to come and stay, after that he wouldn’t sit still.”

Y/N bites her lip. “Then how come he didn’t kiss me today?” she asks quietly. “He leaned in like he was going to and then he just, pulled away and ran off.”

Hermione frowns. “Have you thought about talking to him?”

“And potentially ruin our friendship? I’ll pass.”

“Y/N you have to notice the way he looks at you,” Ginny reasons. “He looks at you like you’re the only person on the planet. Like you’re the eighth wonder of the world or something.”

Y/N blushes and grabs another cauldron cake to keep her hands busy. “Whatever, let’s just talk about something else.” Y/N grins over at Hermione. “Hermione how about you tell us when you’re going to tell Ron you like him?”

Both Y/N and Ginny burst into fits of laughter as Hermione grabs the nearest pillow and starts swinging at them.

-

“What are you doing down here?” Fred’s soft voice asks from somewhere behind Y/N.

Y/N’s shoulders tense as Fred approaches, and she keeps her eyes trained on the pond, watching as the water ripples in the slight breeze. “Couldn’t sleep,” she answers dully as Fred sits down next to her. Ginny and Hermione dropped off hours ago, but all Y/N could do was toss and turn in her cot as she thought about what Ginny had said. Y/N had always been sure in her mind that Fred didn’t return her feelings, but after what Ginny said and the moment they shared together in the pond, she started to rethink every moment they’ve ever shared together.

“Me either,” Fred whispers as he looks over at Y/N. There are worry lines on her forehead, and her bottom lip is red and puffy from her teeth digging into it. Fred reaches out and gently tucks a piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “What’s on your mind?”

Y/N wraps her arms around her shins as she tucks her legs into her chest before resting the side of her head on the tops of her knees so she can look at Fred. He looks gorgeous drenched in moonlight, and when their eyes meet butterflies erupt in her stomach. “Can I ask you a question, Freddie?”

Fred smiles and reaches out to boop Y/N on the nose. “Of course, princess. Can’t promise I’ll know the answer though.”

“When we were in the water earlier, were you going to kiss me?” Y/N asks before she lets her nerves catch up to her.

Fred’s taken aback, and he pauses for a moment, trying to decide how to answer her question. Fred had gotten lost in their tender moment while they sat together in the water earlier, and when they started to break apart it felt natural to him to lean in for a kiss, like it was something they always did. Thankfully he had caught himself and he ended up running off, hoping she hadn’t noticed his slip up.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” Fred asks a moment later, too afraid to answer her question.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Y/N’s tone is firm, but there’s a small smile on her face.

Fred inches closer to Y/N, so their bodies are touching. “Would it be a bad thing if I said yes?” he murmurs.

Y/N shakes her head as she starts to lean in closer to Fred. “Would it be a bad thing if I said I wanted you to?”

Fred moves forward to close the gap between them and presses their lips together. Their first kiss is soft and tentative, but Y/N is still lightheaded when she pulls away. Y/N’s eyes are still shut tight, but she can feel Fred’s gaze on her face.

“I like you, Fred. Like way more than a friend.” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat, and her nerves start to melt away when Fred cups her cheek gently. “I have for a while and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

“Y/N, will you look at me? Please?” Fred asks. His voice is soft and when Y/N finally looks at him he smiles. “You’re the only girl for me. It’s always been that way, and it’s always going to be that way.”

[feeling-weirdy]

A quote prompt if possible- “holy f*cking guacamole?!?” (bc the idea of Vision saying that is really funny imho? 🤣)

"Just stay still for a bit, okay? This'll only take a second,” Tony stated plainly, his face inches away from one of the many projected screens that surrounded him.  Vision nodded, his eyes trailing down to the cord that connected him to Tony's computer.  The update was unnecessary, but clearly curiosity had finally gotten the better of Mr. Stark and it was only a matter of time before Vision eventually gave in.  Vision did exactly as he was told, sitting quietly in the chair next to the large table to held Tony’s primary screen.  He watched helplessly as Tony tapped randomly in the air, picking out pieces and wires that seemingly connected his internal workings.  

"It's quite alright. I have no place to be."  Vision smiled over at him awkwardly, uncertain whether this had been a good idea. Tony had assured him that it would be a quick and easy process, so he had hoped he would keep his word.  On the other hand, he wasn’t exactly known for his honesty.  Regardless, Vision kept an eye on every move Tony made.  He would be the first to know if something was amiss.

Wanda peeked around Tony’s shoulder, curiously scanning the screen.  She had followed the two of them down and was adamant that she be allowed to stay despite his insistence that this room was a “boys only” space.  Vision knew that was a lie as he had seen Miss Potts down here many a time, but perhaps that had been different.  Tony was right about one thing: There were many dangerous objects in this room and it was best for Wanda to not go poking around unsupervised.

"So...what exactly are you doing to him?"  Wanda asked, watching intently.  Her face gave away just how much she understood what she saw, a concept that caused Vision to chuckle softly.

Tony crossed the room, grabbing a small gadget from the other table before he answered her question.

"Oh you know...just some minor nicks and tweaks, recipes, satellite coordinates, Thank You note generator, upgrades, that sort of thing."  His tone made it difficult to pinpoint how much of his list had been serious.  Vision had yet to fully understand his sense of humor fully and while he had spent a great amount of time with Mr. Stark, actually processing humor and understanding it was a completely different set of skills.  One J.A.R.V.I.S. wasn’t able to fully comprehend.

Wanda squinted, eyeing Vision thoughtfully.  "He doesn't really need any of those things, does he?"  Vision smiled at her nervously.  “I thought he was...pretty perfect.”  She smiled back at him, her eyes lingering a bit longer than usual before she caught herself.  “Capable of those types of things on his own, I mean...”

Tony shrugged, oblivious to the staggering air that materialized between the two.  "Can't hurt. We wanna keep our boy in shape, don't we?"  Tony slapped Vision's shoulder, giving a breathy chuckle.  Moving to the other side of the counter, Tony created another screen, sliding his finger back and forth in random zig-zag patterns in a way only he could comprehend.

"It's just a regular procedure.”  Vision finally spoke up, reached out to grab hold of Wanda’s wrist in an attempt to calm her worries.  “There’s no reason to be concerned.  Trust me."

Wanda smiled again, looking a bit more relieved.  "It's not you I don't trust."

Tony scoffed, releasing a high chuckle. "Oh come on, Red.  I'm not gonna hurt him.  It's just routine, anything extra is just icing on the cake."  He continued poking around through Vision’s programming, scanning numerous lines of command prompts and coding lingo that was being transferred into his system.  “Plus, I practically built him.  Mentally anyway,” he added, mumbling under his breath as he continued.

"If you say so."  Wanda shrugged, curiously scanning the room as she looked at the other tech that filled the tables around her.  She wandered about the room, careful not to touch anything that may get her in trouble with the man who was watching her warily from his working position.  

Tony kept himself unusually quiet, a fact that began to bother Vision as he went deeper and deeper into his core programming.  Something wasn’t right.  A fact that became glaringly obvious as he felt one of his internal personality systems shut down.  His eyes blurred, gripping onto the table as he felt himself begin to lose balance.  A loud whirring sounded in his head, his visual slowly shutting down.

"Except...we may have a bit of a problem," he could hear Tony say.  

"What's that? You're routine maintenance not going so routinely."  Wanda asked, the two making their way back over to him.

"You play nice or you get a time out. I just uh...I might have...uploaded something with a bit of a bug.”  Tony snapped in Vision’s face, causing a strange jolt that woke up part of his system.  “Vision, you alright, bud?"

"I-I'm not sure. I-"  Vision stuttered, trying to hold himself together.  The bug had found its way into his internal processes, ripping apart anything it got its meaty little pixels on.  Even with a short scan, it t was impossible to locate just where it was hiding.  A sharp pain shot through him, confusion keeping him from locating just where the bug was hiding within his system.  Vision grabbed at his face, unable to hold himself together any longer.  "Holy fucking guacamole!  Can someone please, j-just-"  His visuals flickered, keeping him off kilter and only adding to the intensity of whatever emotions were flooding through him.  

"Yeaaah that was definitely a bug..."  Tony mumbled, running back over to where he was initially working.  Frantically tapping on the projection, throwing things back and forth from his virtual monitor.

"Tony. Fix him."  Wanda demanded, gripping onto Vision’s shoulder to offer some sort of comfort.  “Vis, are you okay?”

Vision couldn’t stop the outburst.  Wherever the little bugger was, it was messing with his language processes.  "Can you please turn this God damn thing off?  Just put it back, exactly how you fucking found it!  It's too much. I can't-I can't-"  He tried to calm himself, fighting through his inability to finish his sentences.  The pain became nearly unbearable, but he had to search for a way to correct the error.   Vision activated the anti-virus scan to locate where the little bug had lodged himself.  “My systems are overloa-”

"Young man, if you don’t watch your mouth..."  Tony joked, clearly not as focused as he should have been and having a ball during the entire interaction.  Vision didn’t find the exchange very funny.  “Sorry.  Not the time.”

"Tony!"  Wanda yelled, kneeling down in front of Vision as she kept one hand on him at all times. 

Tony pointed directly at her.  "Alright alright hey!  I don’t do well with a chaperone.  Can you back off?  Please?  Thank you."  The scan finally located the little bastard, and with the help of Mr. Stark, it was annihilated.  Tony let out a deep breath, leaning against the counter.  "Better?"

The pain stopped as his systems began to reboot, restoring his visuals and other senses.  Vision nodded, taking a moment for himself before fully answering.  Wanda sat quietly beside him, holding tightly onto his hand as he came to.  His settings seemed to have been reverted back to their original state before any alterations had been made.  Vision ran a quick scan to ensure that the bug was gone for good, only responding once the scan completed.

"Mr. Stark, I no longer wish to be subjected to your particular brand of upgrades."  Vision stated, patting the top of Wanda’s hand as a smile reappeared on his face.

"Harsh..."  Tony mumbled, turning off his monitor as he gave up on whatever else he had been working on knowing full well that Vision would not allow it after what had transpired.

Wanda looked at him with a worried expression.  “Are you alright?”  

“Yes, I’m quite alright now.  It seemed the bug stowed away into my personality chips and altered some settings.”  His eyes had fully stabilized and everything seemed to be back to normal.  He would make sure to do more in-depth scans once he was alone and able to fully concentrate, his trust to allow Tony to perform them himself entirely shattered.  “I must apologize for the foul language.”

“It’s okay, Vis,” Wanda chuckled.  “You weren’t yourself.”

"Maybe that should be yourself.  It was pretty funny,” Tony chuckled.  “And hey, at least we know now where the party button is.” 

Check out my other drabbles here or feel free to request some!

[knchins]

Frenzy - Bakugou Katsuki

Summary: You absolutely cannot stand number one hero Bakugou Katsuki. Something goes disastrously wrong when you run into a thieving villain while on patrol with him.

Pairing: Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Pro-Hero!Reader

Rating: E+

Word Count: 2.1k

Bingo Prompt: Hate Sex

Warnings: Sex pollen, public sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, some blood, not much after care (sorry).

Notes: So I had two requests for hate sex with Bakugou, and I hope this lives up to the expectations you both had! Some soft Katsuki at the end. Also snuck in the weekly NSFW prompt for Bookclub! (Not tagging because I’m hoping to actually show up in the tags this time around...RIP)

  Number one hero? More like number one zero. You seethed to yourself as you stormed down your assigned street. You had been assigned the same beat as your arch nemesis, top hero, and coworker Bakugou Katsuki.

 You hated everything about Ground Zero. His dumbass costume, his unruly hair, his voice, his god awful temper- everything. How he got to be number one instead of you was beyond your comprehension. You had loved your agency and you felt as if you shouldn’t have to be the one to leave. After all, you had been signed on first since you were a year ahead of him. He had been annoying in high school and he was even worse after graduation. Shouldn’t he have matured as he got older?

 Typically you worked a schedule opposite to Bakugou. It was rare that you occupied the same shift. However, since you would be leaving for a week-long vacation in a few days you had to work hours that overlapped with his. It was your worst nightmare. The end of the week just couldn’t come fast enough.

 You rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when a tall female villain stood in front of you. Your eyes narrowed as you got into a defensive position. In her hand was a large wad of cash and at her feet was a small pile of empty wallets that had no doubt been stolen.

 At first she appeared caught off guard, having not realized that there was a hero patrolling the area. Determined to settle this without help of your shift partner, you clenched your fists and evened out your breathing. “Surrender and no one has to get hurt. And by no one, I mean you.”

 She laughed, “And who's going to stop me? You? Please. Maybe if you were a little higher in ranking I’d be scared.” She pocketed the cash and took off the thorny bullwhip that was attached to her utility belt.

 Of course, villains loved to get under your skin by undermining your status. You wish you could say that you were immune to it but you weren’t. Coming in number eleven time and time again really ate at you. Your self worth had begun to take a huge hit, and perhaps that was why you allowed yourself to hesitate even slightly.

 The villain flicked her wrist and the leather whip shot out. It wrapped around your wrist, the small spikes impaling the soft skin there. She yanked backward, forcing you to stumble forward. You managed to keep yourself from falling as you regained your balance.

 You attempted to resist, trying to grab onto the part not around your wrist. The thorns however kept you from getting a good enough hold to free yourself. When the villain was close enough you saw her clench her first and you immediately prepared yourself for a punch.

 Instead of swinging, she opened her hand back up with her palm facing skyward. You could see a small amount of pink dust forming in the center of it. She inhaled sharply before blowing the powder into your face, forcing you to inhale it.

 You coughed, dazed and confused as she released her hold on you. You stumbled backwards, tripping and falling onto your backside as you heard a familiar voice yell from behind you. “What the fuck are you doing? Get your ass up!” Bakugou yelled as he ran towards the villain to support you.

 His voice sent a trill down your spinal column, resonating between your thighs. Since when did him shouting have any effect other than rage on you? “Ground Zero,” You called out with a wavering voice. “Be careful, she-”

 Before you could finish, the villain was blowing another round of pink dust into Bakugou’s face. His face twitched around his ocipital bones before he let out a loud sneeze. You could hear the high pitched laughter of the villain as she threw down a pink smoke bomb to get away, and you quickly realized that more of the mysterious substance had been packed inside of it.

 You attempted to cover your mouth and nose with your sleeve, however it was too late. You had inhaled too much. As your blurred vision slowly clarified, you could feel an intense heat pooling within the pit of your stomach as you watched Bakugou attempt to catch his breath.

 How have you never noticed how truly handsome the twenty-two year old was until now? The bulging biceps of his arms flexing as he tried to dispel the smoke from around him. His lean, slender neck and broad shoulders. You still hated him, that hadn’t stopped, but something was suddenly drawing you to him at the same time. Your eyes widened as the realizing hit you.

 You wanted to fuck him.

 The same thought seemed to run through the number one hero’s head at the exact same time. His tongue moved over his lips, wetting them as he took in your figure as you remained seated on the ground. Blood dripped from the shallow cuts on your wrist and onto the ground, forgotten by both of you in the moment.

 He stormed over to you, shoulders tense as he ripped off his grenade shaped gauntlets. He grabbed you by your uncut wrist, wrenching you back up onto your feet and pulling you flush against his hard body. “I’m gonna make you mine.” He growled dangerously into your ear.

 Something inside of you snapped completely as you grabbed him by the back of the head and forced him down for a hard and painful kiss. He crouched to grab the backs of your thighs, hoisting you upwards, the sheer amount of his strength turning you on even more.

 You wrapped your legs around his waist, core throbbing for him. Inside your chest your heart was racing and you were almost scared that wouldn’t be able to get enough of him. Bakugou bit at your lower lip, pulling it into his mouth to suck and nibble on as he forced your back against the nearby brick wall. The thought that the two of you were still very much in public (though in a dark alleyway) seemed to not even cross your minds. There just wasn’t time to go anywhere. You needed each other then and there.

 Bakugou had always thought you were a stuck up prude. You were a hot girl with a shitty attitude, always giving him a dirty look when he hadn’t even said two words to you. You argued any time you were scheduled to work at the same time, and your jealousy towards his status was glaringly obvious. Ultimately he wanted as much to do with you as you did with him.

 But seeing you on the ground, legs spread and chest heaving in your skin tight hero costume had him so incredibly hard that the thought of going home and taking care of his erection himself was the farthest thing from his mind. He wanted...no, needed you now. Right this instant without any hesitation.

 One of his large, strong hands groped at your clothed breast. He pinched at the hardening bud as he ground his cock against your covered pussy. You mewled desperately for him, needing something more than the gentle outside friction.

 You grabbed either side of his face to strengthen the kiss, making it even rougher as teeth and tongues clashed. After a moment you could taste the faint coppery taste of blood, but it was unclear which one of you were bleeding.

 While kissing him, you had hardly felt him ripping off parts of your costume. You had been too focused on his mouth to really notice. Only when the cold air hit your bare breasts did it sink in.

 Bakugou suddenly let go of your legs and you quickly placed them back on the ground to steady yourself. He grabbed you roughly by the waist and forced you to turn around, bending you over and pushing your face and chest against the rough brick of the building that had been behind you previously.

 “You’re going to take this cock like a good little hero, princess.” He said gruffly as you felt your spandex leggings being tugged down your thighs along with the thong you had been wearing. You heard the metallic clink of his belt as his middle finger pushed into your soaking core. “Look how fucking wet you are out here where everyone can see you. Who would have guessed you’re this fucking filthy.”

 Your knees shook as you grappled against the wall in order to keep yourself standing. His long finger pumping in and out at a high speed, moving with the natural curvature of your walls. You could barely hear the sound of his uniform pants dropping over the wet smacks of his knuckles against your skin.

 Bakugou was preparing his cock with his free hand, spreading his precum over his head and shaft as extra lubricant. Suddenly he removed his finger from your aching cunt, making you whine for something- anything- to be inserted back inside of you.

 “What a fucking slut.” He murmured under his breath, his disgusted tone lighting your entire body on fire with want.

 You felt the thick head of his penis press against your entrance. He hesitated, almost as if he wanted to torture you longer only to realize that he simply couldn’t hold out any more. His hands grabbed onto your hips as he forced his mushroomed tip and large shaft into your soft pussy.

 Bakugou let out a possessive growl before smacking your ass hard. He drove you further into the brick as he began to snap his hips back and forth, forcing you so hard into the wall that you were cut by the sharpness of the stone. You cried out in a sweet mixture of pleasure and pain, unable to determine where one ended and another began.

 His nails were digging into the flesh of your hips, nearly drawing blood (and definitely bruising) as he slammed into you over and over. He felt positively feral, unable to stop himself. If you were to cry and scream and tell him no, he knew he would not have been able to quit. Whatever the villain put into his system had a strong hold. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was very thankful that you had been so willing. The wetness of your pussy was evidence of that.

 He relished your taunt walls choking his dick as it continued to ram in and out at a jackhammer pace. You could do nothing but moan, drool slipping down your chin and onto your chest. His abusive cock had you at your peak in no time at all, eyes rolling back as you shook violently with our orgasm.

 Bakugou continued on for another half minute before releasing a large load inside of you, filling your hole up with the white gooey liquid. Almost instantly the two of you seemed to snap out of whatever spell the villain has placed over you, and suddenly the gravity of the situation was upon you both.

 He pulled out and pulled his pants up, “Shit, are you okay?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned which was...strange. You had never heard him take that tone of voice before.

 You pulled away from the wall, sinking to your knees in the process as you tried to collect yourself. The sheer intensity of your orgasm still made it difficult to think straight. Did you really just get fucked by Bakugou? The Bakugou Katsuki? You attempted to collect the remains of your costume as you sat on the hard pavement.

 “Y/N.” He said, his voice soft with worry.

 “I’m fine.” You managed to say, somewhat thankful that he was concerned about you. You managed to get yourself decent for the public once more before looking up at him, “Can you, uh...help me up?”

 He held out his hand for you and you grabbed it, allowing him to pull you up with relative ease. You had to hold onto him to keep yourself upright, still feeling completely wrecked by him. Your face was alight with embarrassment, wishing that you didn’t have to appear so weak in front of him. You were supposed to be a pro-hero and here you were shaking like a newborn fawn.

 “I’m taking you back to the station.” He said, a bit of gruffness returning to his voice. “You’re bleeding.”

 You nodded before stealing your facial expression, not wanting him to see you looking like such an idiot. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

 He scoffed, anger flaring, “why the fuck would I tell anyone?! Come on, lightweight.” He began to pull you back towards headquarters.

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[nochanchu]

down for you

pairing: wong yukhei x reader genre: best friends to lovers au | fluff, romance, themes of relationship jitters, includes a hookup mention (no smut though!) and overthinking but i promise it’s cute and sweet--hell, there’s a date at disneyland here! wc: 5,184 description: Contrary to common belief, being in a relationship with your best friend isn’t as easy as you’d think. It’s new territory for the both of you; luckily, you have him to remind you that it’s all learning process that you two are taking together. author’s note: hey y’all! em here randomly dropping a fic i’ve had in the works for like two-ish years now? here i am! maybe i’ll even wind up writing more~

Sometimes you have to ask yourself if dating Wong Yukhei is a good idea, if the executive decision to cross boundaries from the “Should we try this?” to the “Holy fuck, are we actually trying this?” is worth the awkwardness of transitioning.

It’s not weird. Per se. It’s more… different.

There are things you’ve done with him that you don’t think twice about like going out to boba places or spending twelve consecutive hours at the 24-hour library on campus. They’re like secondhand nature. You don’t have to overthink when you hit him up at 2 AM to go grab some coffee or if something’s just weighing on your mind and you just need a distraction. Whereas, there are still things that you aren’t quite sure about like kissing or holding his hand. Like you really fuckin’ want to, but another part of you wonders if this is the point of no return. If you metaphorically consummate this agreement that you’ll be losing him if things fall to shit.

Perhaps it helps that you’ve only known him for a couple of years. Somehow forging a friendship with one another after only a few obligatory discussions in a comparative literature class you both breezed through as easily as you both seemed to formulate a bond over a hot pot place up near the state’s capital city, because “if there’s one place everyone needs to try for hot pot, then that is the place.” (His words, not yours, but you agreed nonetheless.) You can vaguely recall how tentative conversations about homework stopped being about homework and more about what kinds of things you like, where you both hung out, and who you both knew, because unbeknownst to either of you, Dong Sicheng would be the bridge over the small gap between you two.

Because once Sicheng became a variable in the equation, suddenly it wasn’t just study hangouts together, it was coming out at ungodly hours for caffeine and snack food from all the best places in town. It was the necessary transition to be where you both are now, and it was the very push that essentially established a something-more and something-that-could-be, that has led you down this path of hand-holding and shy pecks when you think (and hope) no one else is watching.

The very thought of a relationship with Wong Yukhei still gets to you too. Not only has he single handedly integrated himself into your life as your best friend, he’s become your significant other. Your boyfriend. Your boo. Your… something (everything). And, realizing just how easily he has transitioned his way across your life makes you queasy and nervous, bringing forth a new bundle of emotions you locked away so long ago.

When you look at him, you ask yourself if this is something you should be doing, if what you’re really doing by participating with your best friend is truly okay, and if or when this comes to an end, will you be ready to deal with those consequences? You ask yourself if holding his hand and kissing his lips feel right or if running his hands through your hair or if his large, firm hands on your hips should feel that foreign.

You see happiness and possibility with him, but at the very same time, you fear for the crash and burn—

“You okay?” Yukhei asks with his eyes trained on you. His once far steps begin to match your slowed pace, no longer as excited as they once were for the tea cups.

The two of you have been abandoned by the rest of the group for obvious reasons, and somehow it does not bring you as much comfort as you once confided to Sicheng. In fact, the lack of tomfoolery and rowdiness that the rest of the group brings actually emphasizes the sudden stiffness that you’ve been trying to avoid since arriving at LAX. Although this trip has been planned months in advance, the development of your relationship with Yukhei is still new.

Back at home, it’s too easy to let yourself fall into that small comfort of interlocked fingers and the small shared smiles of camaraderie in your classes. You don’t think twice about it when no one else is around, and yet knowing that everyone else is traipsing around Disneyland while you’re both off doing your own thing makes you feel exposed. Like they know you guys are together, and yet you don’t know what they’re thinking about you two. The most frustrating part of it all is that you don’t usually care about what people think when it comes to you. Your relationships are merely an extension of you, so how this bothers you as much as it does, still doesn’t quite register in your brain all that well.

You know everything’s okay with him. You haven’t had issues over dumb things or really any issues at all. You can’t even deny that things have gone surprisingly well since his confession to you a few months back. In many ways, it has felt like a long time coming, and just about everyone in your shared friend group can agree. But now that it’s here, present and glaringly so, you’re actually quite nervous.

He says your name.

Instead of at the three-foot distance you could’ve sworn you two were at, his voice reaches you by the shell of your ear. The deep, huskiness articulating your name as it has plenty of times before elicits a sudden jump of surprise from you in response.

You flash him a glare when he lets out an abrupt snort and half of a hearty laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says with the corners of his lips twitching. “But seriously, are you okay? You seem a little uneasy. Is it the crowd?”

You look up from a stray gum wrapper just as a few passersby brush against you two in an attempt to get to the teacups that’ve been calling Yukhei’s name since you both arrived at the amusement park. The prick of guilt surges over you as the line looks like you’ve both missed your shot at riding the multi-colored pastel cups this time, you respond with a sheepish laugh.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m sorry for making you miss the ride though.”

He doesn’t look particularly convinced which is to be expected with all the time you’ve spent together, but he still waves off your apology with a casual grin. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you down the lane toward the line, so neither of you miss the line on the next session.

“No need to be sorry, there’s always a next time,” he says with a small glance your way. You meet his look very briefly before looking back at the spinning machines coated in soft shades of pinks, blues, and yellows. He leans in once more though you don’t jump (thankfully) to ask, “Are you sure you’re alright though?”

You nod, tentatively wrapping your arm around his waist. “The crowd’s no biggie for me. It’s not actually that bad right now.”

“Is it something else then?” When you half-heartedly shake your head, he raises an eyebrow at you. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

You blink as his gaze meeting yours does not waver. He never fails to surprise you even when you think he isn’t paying attention. It’s like the time he knew when you were disappointed about your first physics midterm and when you failed your driving test the first time you took it. As soon as he received the half-hearted text message about your failure, he was right over with milk tea and your favorite stew from that one phở place you both love. His perceptive eye almost always catches you when you least expect it, whether that’s when you’re hiding your true emotions or needing someone’s shoulder to lean on. He just knows how to decipher you and your safeguards. And at this moment, you’re not sure whether you love it or hate it right now.

Because the offer tempts you. Of course, you don’t like keeping things from him. You’ve come to a point in your relationship where you can tell him everything and just about anything isn’t off the table, though this has long since been a thing even before you both decided to give romance a shot. Being “together” together doesn’t change that. It shouldn’t. That’s what you both agreed on. Truthfully, you just can’t tell if it is just you struggling to adjust or if he was just that good at hiding how he really felt, because again, he surprises you more than you like to admit. And that thought is enough for you to back off, the self-assurance of your own thoughts telling you that he would tell you if that were the case.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You try to smile, knowing fully well how fruitless the gesture is but still deciding to try it out anyway.

He’s obviously still unconvinced. But the longer he looks at you expectantly, the more you grow silent as a power play response.

If there’s one thing Wong Yukhei hates, it’s silence. It unnerves him. He needs something to fill the air, otherwise he can’t help but fidget. It’s why you can’t study too long together, because then neither of you will get anything done. And it’s especially why he heaves a sigh before amending the situation.

“You’re super sure then?”

You simply nod and he leaves the topic be as you both wait to get on the ride.

Waiting in such a public area doesn’t give either of you much cover. In fact, it leaves you both out in the open, like fish laid out to dry on a burning hot summer day or deer prancing in an open road. It’s as though Fate wanted you both to get spotted, much to your displeasure.

There’s a chorus of raucous laughter and shrill shrieks that could only belong to the loudest mouths of the bunch as soon as you and Yukhei inch forward. The sounds are too familiar for your liking, eliciting only a glare in the direction of all the ruckus as you and the very tall, very noticeable man besides you gives a sheepish wave of his own as your group of friends drinks both your interlocked hands and close proximities in like dehydrated flowers.

“Hey lovebirds!” Yuta pipes up, accompanied by his girlfriend. She’s almost sympathetic to your embarrassment if it weren’t for how cute you and Yukhei looked together, then she might’ve helped you out by calming the excited ash blond whose hand is entwined in her own.

They’re cute and admirable, a perfect example of friends to lovers, though with some minor adjustments—some of which was Yuta’s initial position as her Japanese tutor before finding the courage to ask her out compared to yours and Yukhei’s initial drunk sex-capade, a detail that you still have yet to come to a proper conclusion on, because how could things be so different from then to now? You almost wished you two hadn’t done the deed and instead started things off normally like confession without the pretenses of messing around in the background. But you decide not to indulge in retaliation, merely releasing Yukhei’s hand and stretching your limbs in front of you before resting your hands behind your head.

Sicheng very briefly catches your eye as if to ask you if things are going alright, but you ignore him and the audible groans from the others at the lack of skinship between you and Yukhei. You know they’ve been dying for yours and Yukhei’s relationship since the group started and finally took notice of your close friendship. But while you relished in this unification between your respective friend groups, which so easily blended together, you kind of wished it didn’t create such an immense pressure on you to fall into those standards of what couples do and how they’re supposed to act around one another.

Even if the embarrassment is wholly eating at you, their departure is something you relish in as you and Yukhei are prompted into the ride, leaving behind your friends and their incessant teasing.

“Ah, don’t mind them,” he tells you.

You give him a small nod, which causes him to place his palm atop your head for a couple of a seconds. It earns him a smile, even if it does not wholly reflect the thoughts inside your head.

/

At the very least, getting on the teacups changes the mood.

Being that it is his first time there, and you’re a Disneyland veteran, you have made it your own personal goal to give him the full experience. Like everyone else flying at unmeasurable speeds, you start off by grabbing hold of the steering wheel between you and the ash blond man, giving the warm metal several good turns to get the canary yellow teacup spinning. This keeps the momentum up, moving you both so rapidly, you don’t even realize how closely it has brought you together until you can hear his laughter at your side and one of his hands covers yours to join in on the spinning.

It stays like that too. Even after you both have exited off the ride, you both shakily navigate around the park in search of another ride to quench your thrill-seeking taste buds.

When you look up, you find him already staring at you and looking away from you all in the same moment. It makes you laugh, but you try not to exacerbate the teasing or the pink in his cheeks as you two pass through the vicinity. He has these moments where you've caught him looking at you; at first, you assumed it was because there might've been something on your face that you didn't catch before walking out of your dorm, and eventually, it became abundantly clear that he was simply trying to capture the moment. Last time you shared a moment like this, you both crossed the bridge from friends to lovers, and now you two were at the point of no return.

“What do you wanna do next?” you ask him.

You needed to break the moment. It helped to blink, just so you wouldn't fall back into your previous disposition. You didn't want to worry him, you didn't like to. It wasn't like he meant for things to happen as they did. He hadn't been one to initiate the hook-up, though he consented and reciprocated with as much fervor as you had. He had blurted out his confession shortly afterwards; it was quick, slurred together because his heart was probably ready to jump out of his chest when he realized it was now or never. Either you two would have done that or acted as if nothing had happened, and truthfully, you don't think you could've done the latter. Not when all your feelings seemed to sit in your throat, ready to jump out.

Truthfully, you've been one to admit your feelings to those you admired, but never with close friends. You had never liked your close friends. It wasn't some kind of unspoken rule or anything. It was just a matter of keeping romantic and platonic relationships from being one; it was easier this way, less messy in case things went awry. Close friends were hard to come by, relationships always complicated things to a point where you didn't know whether you had the same person in your life. Previous significant others had used secrets of yours against you; they would take what they wanted from you and leave, and it all hurt like a bitch.

It hasn't with Yukhei, you reassure yourself. And it truly hasn't.

He's looking at you with a goofy grin spread across his handsome face. He tells you, “Whatever you want to do."

The gesture is contagious, and you begin to feel butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

“You’re technically the expert here, so you take the reign,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. You know he doesn't want to do the wrong thing with you, partially from the group's advising and also because relationships just take that kind of patience. You two have spent a long time being friends, enjoying each other's presence without the same expectations as you two have now. Of course, it's a little different. Of course, you two can expect to be a little nervous. It's untouched territory, you have to remind yourself. You're both figuring shit out.

You don't want to freak him out, so you try to keep the banter up. It isn't hard when he's as expressive and funny as he is. It even helps you push aside all of these floating thoughts a little longer.

“Don’t I always?” you snicker as his jaw drops. It’s moments like this that are reminiscent of your relationship prior to now. Back then, it was easy to have flirty banter, because any sort of intention was simply in the background. It wasn’t mandated by your relationship status; instead it sort of just happened. It didn’t happen because it needed to. It happened because you two wanted it to happen.

He tries to muster up a serious enough tone, but you can hear the whine in it. The sound earns him another laugh from you. “No! I’m pretty sure I’ve had a fair share of being the leader,” he says, with a slight puff to his chest.

Tapping your chin, you reply, “I suppose so.”

The gesture exacerbates his dramatics by earning you a guffaw.

“I do! I may not be the Disneyland expert, but I can make a suggestion.” He tilts his head, ever-so-slightly. “Yeah?”

You stop tapping your chin to wave him on and his hand takes that hand into his. “Of course, you can!”

As he interlaces your fingers with his, you have a mild suspicion that he’s going to lead you to the Silly Symphony Swings. Only mild because it’s rather close and you could see that it was something he had his eyes on since you two arrived.

Something about the ride is reminiscent of him, perhaps he gravitates to them for the opportunity to make his childhood dream of flying come true. It was a superpower he mentioned during one of those god awful ice breakers on the first day of that comparative literature class, and something he went into further detail when you guys had your previous hangouts, before this relationship ordeal.

“Trying to fly, Superman?” You indulge in his desire to swing your arms. He loves it, practically bouncing as you two walk between the crowds.

“It’s just like how you make me feel,” he says, giving you a twirl as you approach the line. "Is that okay?"

It's so becoming of Yukhei to still ask if something is okay. You remember him mentioning how he used to get scolded for being too much with previous partners, always one for the cheesy gestures like twirling a loved one in those romantic comedies or quoting the absolutely cringey lines from movies just for the laughs. You found--and still do find--it endearing; the others not so much.

“Of course,” you say, laughing just as loudly as he does. “I can't control your feelings, silly."

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, "is that okay?"

You nod, almost ready to shut your eyes when he kisses the top of your head.

Moments like this serve to remind you that he still has your best interests in mind. He cares a whole fuck ton about you, and no change to your and his relationship status can ever alter that. He hasn’t changed into a completely different person like one assumes would happen in a relationship between friends, so why should you?

This feels right. The giggles, the weightlessness, his hand in yours.

/

You two finally catch up with your group for lunch at one of the all too expensive restaurants in the park. Since it is Yukhei’s first time there, you don’t mind it so much, as it is an experience you think people should have at least once.

Yuta eyes the two of you, seemingly ready to let loose another witty observation before his girlfriend shoves a French fry into his mouth. She smiles sweetly to him before flashing you an apologetic look.

You must’ve appeared a little disgruntled already. The time with Yukhei was both lovely and nerve-wracking, because a small but rather haunting part of you couldn't stop wondering if your time separated from the group would upset them. After all, they had extricated themselves from the two of you so you and Yukhei could spend more time together. What if you two had overindulged?

A part of your stomach churns as you and Yukhei take a seat beside the teasing boy. Being back with everyone begins to remind you of the initial doubts you had, the very ones you’ve had bubbling inside of you. And it makes you feel worse when you feel Yukhei reach for your hand across the table, because everyone is there, watching, waiting, and worst of all, expecting the two of you to be some sort of perfect, lovey dovey couple going through their honeymoon phase.

Maybe you guys should be, maybe it’s fine. You want to believe it is, but somehow the way you waver to hold hands, incites another comment.

“Trouble in paradise, love birds?” Yuta asks, raising an eyebrow at you two.

You give him a sidelong glance and shake your head.

“We’re fine,” Yukhei pipes in. He seems to overtake your thumb then, and he gives a short victory giggle, mainly to himself. It makes the corners of your lips twitch, though you stop short just as you hear Yuta speak again.

“Are you sure?” he inquires, looking at you this time.

“We’re fine,” you add, with a huff, “really.”

Yuta still seems to watch you both, though everyone else makes work of doing the same. It unsettles you just how much your relationship feels like it’s under a microscope, one wrong move and suddenly things are blown out of proportion.

Perhaps that's another reason why you aren't prone to going out with friends. The idea of a relationship having such an audience unsettles you. You like your privacy and keeping that kind of business under wraps. These things are supposed to be intimate, accepted if the partner is a good person for you (which Yukhei is on all levels), and yet, you feel like your relationship is proceeding jaggedly, because of the hyper-fixation.

You sigh, having already let go of Yukhei's hand once you and the others received your food. And the sigh doesn't go unnoticed either. You have a few glances from Yuta and Sicheng, Yukhei too, but you stand up and excuse yourself to the restroom.

Despite it being on the left, you take a right to get away from the restroom itself.

/

You manage to navigate through the crowd and remain within reach of the restaurant by hiding out in one of the souvenir shops that you and the others planned on visiting near the end of your visit. There's an assortment of Disney ears, stuffed animals from nearly all the movies, and things of that nature.

The ears have always caught your eye, the pink glittery ones, the blue ones. They're all made with different designs, based off of the various movies made by Disney and Pixar, and they remind you of a simpler time where relationships were yours, not part of an audience and watched. They also remind you of yours and Yukhei's mutual love for the movies; one of the main tipping points in your transition from classmate acquaintances to budding friends. His favorite had been the sweet and fun Hercules, while you heavily shared a love for that one, Treasure Planet definitely had your heart. Both were stories of characters trying to find their own in the world. You smile to yourself.

You’re just about to check your phone and update your friends and Yukhei about where you are when you see him. Your ash blond boyfriend who gives a small wave.

“Hey you,” he says as he makes his way beside you. He paws through the ears, probably to see if there are any Hercules-themed ears. 

“Hey,” you say, wishing you had found one just to give it to him. You decide to check for those on Etsy sometime later, or one of those Instagram boutiques, just to see him light up. 

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, stopping his search when he realizes it’s futile and looks at you. 

You don’t say anything, giving a shrug. “I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Talk to me,” he prods gently. “If that’s okay?” 

“I’ve been worried about us,” you admit. “Not that I don’t want this or you. I do. I’m just so uncertain about this whole thing.”

“That’s no reason to be sorry, you know,” he says. He offers a hand to you, an escape from the shop for more privacy, which you take. It's a brief walk to a seating area not too densely populated by the park visitors. It’s a bench beneath some of the all too perfect-looking shrubbery, where there are red little flowers with yellow dot-like centers to make it even more picture perfect. 

As soon as you two sit down, you immediately ask, “Did we fuck up by not confessing first?”

He shakes his head. “I think what we did was still special, even if it wasn’t very conventional to the kind of relationship we think should have. But I think whatever relationship we have, whatever start, is still pretty damn special.” 

Your hand is still in his, and he gives yours a squeeze. 

“Aren’t you worried?”

He lets loose a shaky laugh, “Of course I am. Relationships are so terrifying and new. I’m scared shitless wondering if I’m doing anything okay. That’s why I keep asking. I don’t ever want to put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable or obligated in any shape or form. But you know what?”

You nod for him to go on. You didn’t realize he was feeling similar jitters.  

“As scared and nervous as I am, I’m just as excited to begin this new journey with you wherever it takes us. And if you don’t think you’re ready for it, then I’m fine backing off, taking things easy, or even trying to go back to the way things were. It wouldn't be the exact same, but again, I don’t want you to feel obligated to be in this relationship if it isn’t something you feel like doing.” 

“I want to,” you tell him. “I do. I really want to see how this goes, because you’re an amazing guy, Yukhei. I didn’t even realize you were scared too. I guess just thinking back on previous relationships and how we came to be got me overthinking. This is new for me. I’ve never dated a best friend before. If anything, that’s probably the most terrifying part about this. I don’t know what’ll happen by the end of it, if that comes and I don’t know when or if it will. But just not knowing drives me crazy.” 

“I mean, you were willing to consider that, so that says something, right? That you’re willing to take a leap of faith and see where we go together?” he asks, rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb. “I think us not being best friends anymore would suck, indefinitely. I think you’re one of my favorite people in this world, next to my mom.” You laugh just as he smiles. “But I think whatever happens happens because it’s meant to. We’ll be in each other’s lives, no doubt. I think it’d take time and space, but also communication if we wanna get through whatever pops up, yeah?”

“Yeah, you make a good point there,” you say, considering everything he’s said. It sounds like your rational side aloud. “I’m sorry for being such a mess.” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve been freaking out, wondering if I was doing something wrong. Being too much. If it wasn’t that, then I thought maybe I was being too much of a worrywart, but I’m sorry for not picking up on how you were feeling.” 

“You couldn’t have known unless I told you,” you point out. “Plus, another thing that’s been bugging me has been how doting our friends have been for some reason.” 

Yukhei agrees, “They have been, especially Yuta.” 

“I know it’s all in good fun, but I’ve been hypersensitive to it all. This whole trip has been giving me the jitters. I don’t know, it seems so silly,” from Yukhei’s look, it doesn’t see it so casually, which comforts you, “okay, not so silly, but it seems so odd to think that it wouldn’t be super easy to be with you. You’re great and I like that we can finally be honest with ourselves and our feelings, but somehow I expected best friends transitioning to a relationship to be less awkward?” 

“I’m sorry he’s been bugging you so much,” you give a shrug since you know Yuta means no harm by it, “I get what you mean. All the movies make this seem like it should be super easy and super perfect.” 

“Doesn’t it feel like we should be in our honeymoon phase already?” 

“Like the whole ‘I love you so much,’ ‘no, you hang up,’ and then that weird game of wanting to hang up but not wanting to hang up?” 

You both laugh at the ridiculousness. Neither of you are like that, kudos to those who are and can be, but it isn’t you guys. You laugh over silly things, nerd out over movies you love, break out in song and dance when the song absolutely calls for it. You guys have your own way of doing things, and even Yukhei understands the pressures and the uncertainties, and yet, he’s still more than willing to work through them and find ways that will. 

“You think we can make this work?” you ask, letting go of his hand because yours has gone a little clammy. 

He nods, “It helps with communication.” 

You laugh sheepishly as he pulls you into a hug. “No matter how you’re feeling I’m more than happy to hear what you have to say and I will try my damn hardest to help.” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, but he simply kisses your forehead after letting go of you. 

“I only want the best for you, silly. No apology needed.” 

In response, you simply pull him in for a kiss. It’s sweet and chaste, still different and new, but comforting all the same. He reciprocates, smiling into the kiss. 

Whatever thoughts you had earlier, you find that they don’t weigh as heavy on your shoulders anymore. Of course, it’s going to take some learning and communicating, but you’re as just as glad as he is that you guys get to do this thing together. 

[znaeb]

Falling Apart | Z.K.

The end started in December.

Fights breaking out over every little thing, arguments plagued their days as they tried to keep it together. They screamed at each other until their voices were hoarse and then they screamed some more. Angry tears burned her cheeks as they followed each other from room to room, and angry words and sentences exploded from their mouths as they carried on the fight.

After the arguments fizzled out the silence was almost worse. A few brief words exchanged in the morning as they both hurried to get out, out of the house and away from the other.

Through the beginning of January, they hardly saw each other. She stayed at work longer than she needed to and if she thought about it she knew he was doing the same thing at the studio, just killing time.

After a few weeks she decided that she was done. With the fighting and the ignoring and avoiding... with everything.

She packed up the necessities and left. There were things in the apartment that she’d have to come back for, but she needed to get her foot out the door.

With her backseat nearly full she drove across town to a friend’s house and cried on her shoulder while they watched a sad movie.

She didn’t know yet if she’d made the right decision. She tried to ignore how difficult it was to sleep that night.

~~~

She was gone. She left and it was all his fault.

He’d screamed at her too many times, he’d been too stubborn, too harsh. He didn’t know what the final straw was, but no matter the answer it was his fault.

When he got home from the studio that night he didn’t notice anything different immediately. She wasn’t home yet, but that wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t until he realized her jackets were missing from the hooks in the hallway, and her shoes weren’t there, and the glaringly obvious lack of her in the apartment.

He went to the kitchen and found exactly what he was looking for. A note on the fridge, an apology. I’m sorry to do it like this, but I don’t know another way. He sighed, closed his eyes, and leaned his forehead against the refrigerator.

He strolled around the apartment and took in the empty. Even Simba seemed to take notice, sticking close to his heels as he walked around the almost foreign space.

“I know bud.” He sighed again and petted the little dog, picking him up and making his way to his bedroom.

By far the worst, the bedroom felt cold and empty. The word ‘desolate’ circled around his mind, bouncing off the sides of his head and making it ache.

Her nightstand was cleaned off, her half of the closet was bare, and an empty drawer hung partially out of the dresser.

His feet were heavy as he walked back and forth across the room getting ready for bed. He tried not to look at the spaces where her things should be, disappointment and sadness bubbling up inside of him whenever he caught a glimpse of her empty shelves and remembered that she was gone. 

He was thankful that Simba seemed to know how badly he needed some company that night, moving up from his normal space at the foot of the bed right next to him. 

He didn’t know if he should call, but he knew it was too late to do it right now. He tried to ignore how difficult it was to sleep that night. 

~~~

Work was extra hard after she had left. Having nothing to go home to really made the days seem pointless and agonizingly long.

She had found an apartment near her office and while it meant she had almost an extra half hour to sleep in the morning, she kind of missed the commute. It was almost like she got there too fast.

She wouldn’t let herself think about the past too much, but one thing was unavoidable. She missed taking care of Simba. She fed him every morning for 2 years and now she just didn’t know what to do with herself. Every day she had to remind herself that no, she wasn’t forgetting about his walk, she just didn’t have to do it anymore.

While she adjusted to her new life she also realized how much she missed her old one. Nowhere felt like home.

After work most days she would head back to her new apartment and watch a movie. She wasn’t ready to have a social life yet. Everything felt wrong, she didn’t want to go places alone.

She wasn’t sure how long it’d been when he finally called. Two months maybe? It didn’t matter. She was so startled by it that she had to let her eyes adjust to the bright screen for a second before she answered.

“Hello?”

~~~

He hadn’t expected an answer. He didn’t know what to do now. He hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Hello? Zion?” She spoke gently into the phone. Her voice was soft and silky, he almost hummed at how good it was to hear her talk.

“H-hi,” he stuttered, cringing at himself he continued, “I was just wondering if, uh, if you were... how are you?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and practically smacked himself in the head. He didn’t know why he was finding it so difficult to talk to her. They’d been together for almost 3 years, it felt unnatural not to talk to her, but now that he was finally doing it, it was like he’d forgotten how.

“I’m doing well...” she trailed off, her voice was light and difficult to read. He wanted so badly to ask more questions, to keep digging, are you really doing well? How well? Why are you doing so well? Who is he? But he resisted.

“That’s good, that’s good...” he nodded to himself as he spoke, pretending she was in front of him. He had to be cool.

“Thank you, uh, are you doing good?” She asked. He could feel all the questions she was wanting to ask, he knew that if he didn’t provide a reason for the call soon then she would ask him the reason.

“I’m, um, yes good.” His eyes darted around his kitchen as he tried to come up with something to validate his quite out-of-the-blue call, “did you want your spare car keys?”

The words tumbled out of his mouth when his eyes landed on the set of car keys hanging on the hook by the garage door. He flicked them with one of his fingers and gave a slight wince at the long pause before she answered.

“I... I mean, I guess.” She said, confusion fully evident in her voice.

“Alrighty well that’s good, good to know.” He scratched the back of his neck and stared at the floor, “do you want to pick them up later? I can drop them off for you too though, if you’re busy. I don’t have plans tonight so it wouldn’t be a problem for me to drop them by.”

“I can probably pick them up... I have a few things I’ve been meaning to come and get actually. What time works best for you?” He glanced at the clock, it was only 7:30.

“Whenever is fine.”

“Okay. Is 8:30 good then?”

“Yeah yeah, that sounds good.” He forced a smile as he hugged himself, nervousness running through his body.

“Good.” She sounded a bit nervous too, “I’ll see you in a little while then.”

“I’ll see you.” He nodded to himself again.

They said their goodbyes and hung up.

~~~

She was kicking herself for agreeing to this. Ever since she hung up she kept thinking of more reasons not to come. She still had her key, she could just come by when he’s out. She could’ve had one of the boys bring her things over. She could’ve told him that she would rather meet in a public place. But she didn’t. She agreed, and now she was outside trying to gather the courage to go in.

Looking up at the old brick building through the windshield of her car she felt more at home than she had in 3 months. She pulled into the parking lot and then into her reserved space the same way she had a thousand times before, but this time was different. This time she didn’t know exactly what she was doing here, and she didn’t know what to expect.

When she stepped out of the car and shut the door everything was quiet. As long as she’d lived here she couldn’t remember a time when the street was this quiet. It was unsettling.

Once she walked into the building she hurried down the narrow hallway and then jogged up the creaky old wooden steps until she got to the right floor. She kept her eyes on the ground as she walked toward the door, noticing for the first time the little swirls in the pattern of the worn-out red-brown carpet.

She stood there for a moment and considered her options. She still had her key, he knew that, but would it be impolite to walk right in? They shared this place for so long that knocking felt unnecessary. After a few seconds of deliberation she decided to just go in, knowing she could say that she didn’t want Simba to bark at the knocking and annoy the neighbors.

“Hey, I’m here,” she called out into the apartment and leaned against the door to shut it. Immediately hearing the scuffle of little paws running towards the door.

“Kitchen!” She heard Zion respond as she stepped further inside, taking a minute to bend down and give Simba some love.

She paused in the doorway to look in at him. His back was turned as he thumbed through a cookbook, no doubt trying to look casual, and stirred something that smelled like ramen on the stove.

“Hey...” she said shyly, wringing her hands and stepping into the kitchen.

~~~

His mind was racing and his heart was pounding, but his hands were steady. He continued cooking his dinner when he heard her come in the door.

He glanced at his watch. 8:10. She was early, as usual.

He turned when she spoke to him, heart leaping out of his chest when his eyes finally landed on her. She looked tired, but pretty. She always looked pretty.

“Hey...” he responded quietly, his eyes falling to the floor before he forced himself to look her in the face.

Her mascara was smudged slightly from being worn though the day and her lips were glossy from what he presumed was her favorite chapstick. Her hair was mostly pulled away from her face, but little strands of it fell over her forehead and by her ears. He wanted to twist it around his finger.

“What’re you making?” She pointed one of her tiny fingers at the stove and stepped closer to take a look.

“Oh, just some noodles with chicken and things.” He said, suddenly unable to remember what he had put in the pot.

“Nice, you’ve always been a better cook than me.” She gave a breathy laugh and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“You’re a good cook.” He said simply, deciding that his dinner was done simmering and turning off the stove. He moved the pot off the hot burner and crossed the kitchen to get a bowl, “do you want any?” He questioned, arm raised to grab another for her as he looked her way.

“Um actually yeah, please. I haven’t eat yet.” She nodded, stepping forward and opening the silverware drawer to grab two forks.

“I gotcha.” He nodded as he went back to the stove and dipped some into both of the bowls, “can you get the napkins?” He asked as he picked them up and carried them to the kitchen table.

She grabbed the napkins and set them with the forks on the table as he sat down before going back and filling two glasses of water— even remembering to put extra ice in his, just how he likes it.

“Thank you.” He nodded when she set his drink in front of him.

“Thank you for dinner.” She nodded back and sat down in her chair.

~~~

His hair was longer. She couldn’t stop thinking about how much longer his hair was. And blonder.

She looked at him as she ate her food. They were both pretty silent, only really talking when he finished his water and she asked him if he’d like some more and he said she didn’t have to get it but she did anyway.

He hadn’t shaved in a while either. His face was scruffy and she had to stop herself from reaching out and running the back of her hand over his cheek. Old habit.

She had missed looking at him. His eyes were soft but his forehead creased in thought. His shoulders hunched slightly as he ate, his knee bounced subconsciously for a little while but then he realized he was doing it and stopped. His top half was covered in one of his big soft hoodies, and his legs in some grey sweatpants.

But how did his hair grow that much? Had it really been that long since she’d seen him? She finished her food and sat back in her chair as she waited for him to complete his second helping.

“Your hair... s’long.” She said dumbly, gesturing to her own head as she tried to make conversation.

He reached up and lightly tugged on the end of one of his dreads, “yeah... I guess it is, isn’t it.” He chuckled and looked at his lap.

“It looks nice long.” She noticed out loud, he used to keep it shorter, but she guessed that he wanted a bit of a change in the past few months. Admittedly she’d trimmed off a few inches of her own hair, but it wasn’t noticeable when it was up like this.

“Thank you.” He said softly, his eyes fixing on hers and doing that staring thing where she was sure he could read her mind.

She nodded and began collecting their dishes to take to the sink. He helped carry them in and then they silently agreed to do the dishes together, just how they used to.

His eyes focused on the soapy bowl in his hand as she dried the clean one in hers. She moved around the kitchen putting the freshly dried dishes in their places, eyes always fixing on his shoulders as she came back towards him to grab the next one.

When they were finished they both stood quietly, neither of them wanting to speak first and ruin the illusion that everything was back to normal.

She looked at the clock and it was somehow almost 10. Then she looked at Simba, resting peacefully in his plushy doggie bed. Then her eyes started to water.

~~~

His head snapped up when he heard the first small sniffle. He looked at her for a second and absorbed the sadness that now surrounded her. Tears slipped out of her eyes and he rushed forward to wipe them away.

“Hey hey hey,” he whispered. His hands carefully rested on the sides of her face, his thumbs wiping the little droplets that fell, “why you cryin’ ma?”

She bit her lip and tried to avoid his eyes, his soft voice made her feel better but also made her cry more.

“Why is this so hard?” She answered with a question. Her eyes looked into his like she was pleading for an answer, but he didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t... what baby?” He shook his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“This...” she said, her hands pushing him so gently that he wasn’t sure if she actually wanted him to move, “why can’t I let you go?”

“I don’t know...” he shook his head again, pulling her in and resting his forehead against hers, pleased when she didn’t resist.

“I just came to get my stuff but then we ate dinner, and we did the dishes, and now Simba thinks it’s bedtime, and I miss you, and I want to go home but this is home.” She seemed desperate and he felt exactly the same. His hands tugged at her sweater, “I haven’t lived here in months, but this is still home.”

Then he was crying. Little sobs got caught in his throat as he tried to hold himself together, he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her middle.

“Please come home.” He whispered into her neck. His nose brushed the soft skin of her shoulder and he planted a chaste kiss right below her ear.

She cried harder, arms desperately clinging to his shoulders as she tried to stop. “Please.” He practically begged, his fingers digging into her sides as he waited for her answer.

Her crying quieted a bit and she was silent for a moment, his heart was in his throat when he realized what he just asked of her. He mentally cursed at himself and was going to pull away when her small voice replied, stopping his actions entirely.

“Okay.”

~~~

As soon as she spoke he sighed in relief, his arms reaching under her thighs to pick her up and carry her off to their room.

They had so much to talk about, so many things needing to be resolved, but right now the fact that they both wanted to do that was enough. Both of them so relieved that the other didn’t want to give up. They slept for hours just wrapped up in each other’s arms, their minds quieting now that they were together.

They had failed for a while. They fell apart and left the pieces. But now they were here, and they were ready to pick them back up and start putting themselves together again.

*******

I hope you like this one! Lemme know what you think! 🤍

[zestria13]

Final Fantasy 15 Thoughts (Spoilers!)

So, I just finished playing Final Fantasy 15 Royal Edition and I have many feelings about it. As I understand it, I have avoided many of the basic gameplay and story problems by buying the Royal Edition, which has all of the patches, dlc's, and fixes many of the bugs encountered when FFXV first came out. Oh, and I have watched the brotherhood anime and the Kingsglaive movie. Overall, my first experience with FFXV is much more complete than it was when the game was initially released (that is my understanding anyways). To be clear, I enjoyed playing FFXV (at least a good portion of it), but I have many issues with it too. One of my main issues with FFXV is the plot, especially the plot following the rite in Altissia. I have read many complaints about how dark FFXV gets after this point and how it becomes a very narrow, plot driven narrative as opposed to its earlier more easygoing and open world setting. To some extent, I agree with these complaints. This change in the game feels very sudden and forced to some degree. However, I personally tend to play heavily narrative games because I like deep, complex plotlines. This turn into a plot driven narrative is not my main issue, though it was, in my opinion, too abrupt a change in the game. My main issue following the events in Altissia, simply, is that the game wasn't as much fun to play after that point. For a game promoting the concept of brotherhood and comradery, that pretty much disappeared after the events in Altissia. Don't get me wrong, I understand the events in Altissia were traumatic for all of the characters and that caused most of the tension, but it was like we were playing with a different group of characters than we started with. All of the comradery seen previously in the game, from the pep talks, to characters interactions, to the short quips in battle (My fav was between Noctis and Ignis, the "You got my back" and "Always" in reply) had created this atmosphere of a team, of a brotherhood that was connected not just by duty, but by genuine friendship. 

But then Altissia happens, and the group just...completely falls apart. There is such an emotional whiplash between the first part of the game and the second part of the game, and its jarring. I honestly felt uncomfortable playing the game after the events in Altissia because the atmosphere was tense and strained, and the comradery present in the first half of the game became nearly nonexistent. Frankly, the game never recovers from this mood shift, and the rest of the game has a sort of sullen, discomforting feel to it. And I know people would argue that the brotherhood comes back together at the end of the game, but I would argue that true reconciliation never happens between the characters, instead making their comradery at the end a byproduct of their circumstances. They never truly deal with the problems created by the events in Altissia and afterwards. They just push them aside because they need to do so in order to work as a team and save the world. Now, is it possible that the remaining trio living in darkness may have dealt with their issues and figured things out, but we wouldn't actually know because we aren't privy to anything that happens during those 10 years. Maybe the game wanted you to understand Noctis's perspective in this way (though they don't really touch on how incredibly disorienting that time skip must have been for Noctis). However, the point stands that there was never really time at any point in the rest of the game following Altissia for the group to reconcile and come back together as a cohesive unit.

That leads me to another huge issue I take with the plot of this game. The ending. I know, already, there are people who will comment and say that "Not everything has a happy ending" and "The sacrifice was necessary to save the world", and so on and so forth. My issue with the ending comes back to the question of why. Especially after having watched Episode Ardyn, I just don't feel that the game gives us a clear cut reason as to why any of the ending needs to happen the way it does. Ok, so the sun goes down and doesn't come up after Noctis is pulled into the Crystal, which means demons have pretty much free reign and everything is much more dangerous. Got it. But why did the sun disappear? I know the game explains that there are organisms infected with the Starscourge that release a light-absorbing miasma, which are the cause of the lengthening nights (though you need to be fairly thorough in your examination of items to learn this). It also mentions the idea that the Oracle dying is related to the longer nights and the disappearing sun, though it never really explains why besides the fact that the Oracle can heal the Starscourge. While I understand that her healing those with Starscourge helps to limit the amount of miasma being put into the world, it seems rather unlikely that one person can ever hope to keep up with that demand. Also, we only ever saw Luna heal people who had not fully turned into demons yet, and I would assume that those people aren't giving off the same level of miasma as fully turned demons. And, we know those fully turned demons exist, in the form of demons the party runs into and the MT's that the empire uses. I'm just not sure it is believable that the Oracle, by themselves, is actually healing enough people to actually prevent the endless night in the first place. As for the other part of the explanation, how did those organisms proliferate to the point where it caused an endless night? Based on what we hear from characters in FFXV and read in the research notes, the appearance of the longer nights was incredibly rapid, which begs the question of why those organisms suddenly started infecting creatures and producing this miasma so quickly in comparison to any other time in the history of this world (as far as we know). All in all, I can't think of a solid reason given in the game as to why the endless night even happens, or perhaps, why it hasn't happened already. 

Moving on, after Noctis is absorbed into the Crystal, we do a ten year time skip. Back to my question of why, why did Noctis have to be in the Crystal for 10 years? I know he went in to gain the power of providence, but 10 years seems a bit excessive. Maybe that’s just me. Ignoring the fact that almost all of the living things in the world would have died without 10 years of sunlight, the fact remains that, in all likelihood, most of the creatures living in that world would have perished, either by being killed by demons or due to a lack of resources. In all honesty, there probably aren't many people alive by the time Noctis returns, and it’s hard to say if a civilization would actually be able to recover from that kind of devastation. Anyways, let's move on to what is my biggest contention with the plot. The prophecy. I have to say, I really, really dislike this plot point in the game. For one, it makes no sense. The true king, in this story, exists to purge their star of the darkness. Ok, cool, love the vague terms. But again, why? The darkness, which basically refers to the Starscourge, has existed for at least 2000 years at this point in the world. If the gods were so invested in this issue, why didn't they address it earlier? Why wait for a so called chosen king after at least 2000 years of this darkness ravaging their world? And what makes Noctis the chosen king? Simply because the gods said so? If that is the case, why didn't they choose a chosen king earlier? I know, after watching Episode Ardyn, that Ardyn was also a chosen king with the ability to absorb Starscourge from other people into himself. An ability, I might add, granted to him by the gods. But when Ardyn tries to ascend to become a king, the Crystal, where Bahamut resides, suddenly rejects him because of his ability (which, again, was given to him by the gods), and so he is rejected basically by the gods via the gift they gave him. Which makes no sense. As we know, this action leads to the circumstances we see in the game. 

To me, at this point, it seems that the gods on Eos are incompetent and create this prophecy in order to fix the problem they created. This seems to become more glaringly obvious when Bahamut tells Ardyn (in Episode Ardyn) that he literally is a pawn in their game to fix the problem they created. At its core, that is what makes me so very frustrated with this prophecy plot line. It seems that the characters in this game are no more than pawns being made to do what the gods tell them to do, and that everything in this world is preordained. Not only does that rake against my own beliefs as an individual, but it ruins the purpose of the game for me. If everything is preordained, then what is the point? It also hurts my perception of the characters as well because the characters, except for Ardyn maybe, never think to go against the determinations made by the gods, they just go along with it. They never stop to consider trying to find another way and instead simply accept their fates as is. I understand there is something inherently powerful and moving in sacrificing yourself to save others, but making it fate instead of an active choice lessens the impact. Noctis doesn't choose to sacrifice himself to save Eos, it is forced upon him. There is no sense of choice here, merely one of acceptance. The cruelty of Noctis' preordained fate disturbs me. Not only is Noctis just randomly chosen to die to save the world, but the gods see fit to inform his father of that when Noctis is 5. I cannot truly imagine the depth of sorrow and helplessness probably felt by Regis in being told that his son is basically a sacrifice. Undoubtedly, knowing that weighed heavily on Regis and I'm sure at times that knowledge put a dour edge on his time with Noctis. One of the saddest things about Noctis' fate is how little time he actually gets to live. I know he is technically 30 at the time of his death, but he really only lived 20 years. Not only is his life cut short, but he actually loses a third of it in the process of becoming the ideal sacrifice for the gods. To me, Noctis' fate is just unbearably cruel. And don't misunderstand, I actually like games that have darker themes and angst in them, but I think there is a balance in crafting stories and this story didn't quite find a balance. And the thing is, I think the creators of the game have acknowledged that too, as they have now created 2 alternative storylines where Noctis doesn't die and his fate is subverted in some way. Personally, I prefer the message given in the Final Fantasy 7 remake where the characters actively fight against a pre-determined destiny, instead of simply accepting their destiny as is. I have more thoughts on the subject of Final Fantasy 15, but for the moment I will end my writing here.

[lcomchoukstore]

Stop Losing Sleep: 7 Steps for Stress-free Decision-making

Decision-making is often tough especially when the simplest choice isn’t glaringly obvious. We’re faced with this process every minute of the day.

When do I wake up? What’s for lunch? Do I would like to travel out on a date with this person? What do I would like to try to to with my life? am I able to stay during this marriage?

Life itself may be a series of selections.

If you’re stressed a few pressing decisions, follow these steps to assist you discover clarity and peace. Do the work and exhaust all options. This way, at the top of the day, you'll know you probably did the proper thing for you.

The process is fluid. Know that you simply might feel compelled to travel back and forth between steps.

Give yourself permission to travel at your own pace. If you’re putting your brain to figure and factoring in your heart and soul, the decision-making process doesn’t need to be agonizing.

Take the time to think things through. Explore each step.

Step #1 Take a deep breath

When we’re stressed, we frequently miss details. Begin to consider absolutely every option you've got. Don’t censor yourself. Get all the thoughts outside of you and onto paper. No typing. The act of writing connects together with your brain on a deeper level.

Write all of them down, even those that appear really outrageous and far-fetched. What does one need? What does one desire?

Be open-minded here and encourage yourself to think outside of the box. you'll be writing furiously. Consider rewriting your list so you'll see every word and understand each option clearly.

If you’re stumped, start writing anything and everything that involves mind. albeit meaning writing “I don’t know” over and over until new thoughts come to the fore.

Ask a good keeled, rational friend you'll trust for his or her perspective. State your boundaries from the get-go and be clear that you’re simply posing for help formulating your options.

When we’re so on the brink of something, it is often easy to fall under the trap of viewing things with bias or narrow thinking. Self-limiting beliefs can get within the way.

You might even enjoy seeking out that very honest and blunt friend who tells it, love, it is. Be prepared to face some hard truths.

Step #2 what's your gut telling you

When intuition kicks in, a choice jumps out at you. If that’s not the case, concentrate on the whispers of uncertainty. Bringing those questions call at the open shines a spotlight on factors we'd overlook.

What are you afraid of? Fear can desire intuition because both are designed to guard us. Fears block you from being the simplest version of yourself. Intuition prioritizes your highest self.

Say a choice slaps you within the face, shouting “WAKE UP! this is often what you've got to do!” Pause and recognize the urgency of this message, then put it off to the side. Continue with the remainder of those steps. If that's the selection, everything following will confirm it 100%.

Step #3 How does one feel once you consider your choices

Slowly go down your list and sign up together with your whole body as you weigh each option in your hand. Some choices will elicit very distinct and obvious emotions.

Think together with your whole body, not just together with your head.

What does your heart say? How does your sense of safety and security feel about this?

Take note of which options feel “good” to you. Mark those that make your skin crawl. This information is gold. We’re humans, not robots. think about your feelings albeit you’re not won't to it.

Step #4 Visualize yourself altogether possible worst-case scenarios

Be so intensely truthful with yourself. Face your fears. what's the worst thing that would happen with each of those choices? What could the aftermath look like?

Step #5 Consider the flip side of this

Dream big and picture the foremost optimal outcomes. Allow yourself to think grand and lofty. you're deserving of a tremendous life. you'll have one if you think that you simply deserve it. now's not the time to carry back or self-sabotage.

This could be an opportunity to open up yourself to an entire new world of possibilities.

Step #6 Use all of your writing to form the last word pros & cons list

Do not filter yourself. this is often where you go all out. If something seems like it’s a “maybe,” it’s a NO.

What options align together with your values? What choices are in agreement with who you're at your core? Where does one desire you’re being a martyr, rather than advocating for yourself?

Are you hyper-focused on what others will consider you? Remember that you’re choosing what’s best for you and your life.

You’re on the design out for HECK YES vibes.

Revisit the selection picked by your intuition. Are you finding a balance between your analytical mind and your emotions? this is often where your best options become obvious.

Step #7 You’ve done the work

Congratulations! It’s time to make a decision confidently. Clarity has shown up success and peace of mind is yours if you're hospitable it.

Remember that there are not any wrong choices. Making a choice is just choosing a direction in life.

Was that an enormous sigh of relief? You’re now one decision closer to living the life you’ve always wanted.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Of Anxieties and Coffee Dates

One Shot: Last Minutes & Lost Evenings 4/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/ Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Summary: It was just coffee. Only coffee. There was no reason what so ever for his nervousness but yet here he was.

Rating: PG                                                                                                  

Warnings/Authors Notes: This is the fourth part of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

Previous

He was nervous; sweaty palm, can’t sit still, ���Dear God what I have done?’ nervous. And it was utterly ridiculous. He was just taking her out for coffee; it wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal or even the start of something remotely serious, there was absolutely no reason for him to feel this way. But he did. And it was driving him nearly to distraction.

Luke had been the first to pick up on Tom’s less than stoic demeanor and in his usual roundabout way worked to needle the reason out of his client. With the chaos that the previous summer and its fallout had brought, Luke had taken a much keener interest in Tom’s comings and goings. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“I’m fine, seriously,” Tom reassured, doing his best to ignore the incredulous look his publicist shot him.

“And I’m the bloody Queen.” Tom could not fight the smirk that spread across his features which earned him a knowing glare from Luke. “Not a word, Hiddleston. Not one word.”

Tom threw his hands up, laughing. “I didn’t say a thing.”

“And you better not. But in all seriousness, what is going on with you? You’re not you today. You’re making me anxious just looking at you.”

Tom ran a shaky hand through his already mused hair and offered a loose smile, “I’m seeing someone. Or well not seeing them, seeing them. We’re meeting for coffee. It’s nothing. I’m just being ridiculous…” his voice trailed off, the smile on his face turning sheepish as he realized how badly he’d been rambling.

“So if my Tom-speak is up to scratch,” Luke inferred, chuckling as Tom rolled his eyes, “what I’m understanding is you’ve met someone you’re interested in and now your nerves are getting the better of you,” He laughed, patting Tom heartily on the shoulder. “And how did you meet?”

Tom sighed and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “She dropped her glove on the tube. I returned it. We talked, I got a call, she left. I bumped into her again in a bookshop. We talked again. I asked her for coffee. She’s just…It’s nothing really.” He shrugged, unsure who he was trying to convince. And knowing his continued rambling did little to help.

Luke’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Such a small change that Tom wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t imagined it. “And she knows about you?”

Tom chuckled despite himself as the memory of her blurted words and subsequent embarrassment flitted through his mind. “She does.”

Luke frowned slightly, “You’re sure meeting up with this woman, someone you don’t really know, is the best idea?”

Tom stiffened at Luke’s quiet censure. “It’s just coffee, Luke.”

“Just be careful.”

Tom did not let himself focus on what had been implied in that statement. There were times Luke grated his last nerve with his concern, warranted or not. He knew better than most the need for caution. Especially after the disaster his last relationship had turned out to be.

But this wasn’t anything. Not really. Yes, she intrigued him. She was attractive, smart, funny. But it was just coffee. As much as he was growing to like Rosemary, he honestly wasn’t sure he was ready for anything concrete. It’s just fucking coffee. Get a grip.

The rest of the morning drug on with the same painful slowness. He had always hated these planning meetings. All of the sitting around and playing nice on conference call after conference call tended to drive him round the bend. He knew how important they were to his career, but that knowledge did little to make them easier to bare. Adding to that his distraction and worry about Rosemary and their probably not a date date and it took all he had not to weep with joy when Luke told him they were calling it a day.

He was a bundle of nerves on the journey back home, knee bouncing impatiently as he counted the stops until his own. Tom would periodically glance at his watch, mentally counting down the time until he had to be at the small café a block and a half from Stories Untold. In all honesty he couldn’t remember the walk from the station to his front door. One minute he was exiting the ticketing barrier and the next he was sliding his key into the lock on his front door.

Once inside he found himself pacing aimlessly around his living room, tugging at his shirt and running his fingers through his hair. He toyed briefly with the idea of going for a run to clear his head but knew that with the way his thoughts had been jumbled he would probably take far too long and risk being late or worse having to skip a shower not be so. And while he knew his personality could work miracles, he doubted it would do much to overpower the fresh hell that was him post run.

With a sigh, he dropped himself onto the couch, pulling his phone from his pocket. He forced himself to muck about, catching up on his email and with the comings and goings of the world. Anything that would work as a distraction. Unconsciously he found himself opening his messaging program and staring at the conversation he’d had with Rosemary.

They had exchanged a handful of messages throughout the past week. Mostly logistical, trying to mesh their schedules had been a far greater task than either had envisioned. Between meetings, inventories, and sick employees nothing they had planned seemed to come to pass.

He stared at the phone, messaging program open, cursor blinking accusingly. He started several messages canceling their ‘date’ only to delete each one in turn. What kind of asshole cancels last minute?

Apparently this asshole.

He clicked out of the messaging program and tossed the phone onto the couch beside him, putting his head in his now free hands and groaned. It was by sheer dumb luck that they both had this particular afternoon free. And now here he was contemplating backing out. Like a complete and utter wanker.

The phone chimed causing him to very nearly jump out of his skin. A text. It’s just a bloody text. He sighed and laughed at his own skittishness. God, what is wrong with me? He blindly grabbed for the phone and hit the side button which brought the screen to life. His eyes caught Rosemary’s name and he felt his heart stutter. Swiping the alert open, he quickly read the message she’d sent.

‘So sorry but I have to cancel. We’ve had a bit of a cock up with the latest delivery and I need to spend the rest of the afternoon with the dispatchers letting my annoyance be known. Again so sorry. Maybe tomorrow?’

Tom couldn’t fight the frown that crossed his face. True, he had been debating on cancelling their get together, but the fact that she had been the one to back out hurt. It was ridiculously selfish and self-centered of him and he bloody well knew it, but he couldn’t help wondering if she had come up with her excuse as a way of letting him down gently. Which was ludicrous. Her excuse was a valid one. He did not know much about Rosemary, admittedly, but he knew that she lived and breathed that shop. It was clear in the way she had talked about it, the way her eyes lit up and she rambled on. It was a trait he himself knew he possessed when talking about something he was genuinely passionate about.  

He took a few moments to compose himself before responding. ‘I understand. Hope you give them what-for. I’ll have to check my schedule. We’ll figure something out.’ He hit send and immediately regretted his word choice. We’ll figure something out? He rubbed his eyes in exasperation, I sound like a fucking prat.

But there was little he could do about it now. If he tried to explain himself he feared he’d only dig himself in further.

His phone chimed again. ‘Okay.’

Well fuck.

——

What am I doing? The thought echoed in his mind as he made his way into Rosemary’s bookshop, two coffees in hand. He had nearly turned around a dozen times since leaving his house on a stupid whim after receiving her stark response.

It had seemed so glaringly obvious as he’d made his way out the door. They couldn’t meet but he could always go to her. It was comical, the complete turnabout he’d taken. From convincing himself that meeting with her was a terrible idea to knowing with absolute certainty that he needed to see her.

But as he made his way into the shop he found himself once again questioning just what the hell he was playing at.

“Well hello.”

Tom’s attention snapped to the counter. Behind it stood a tall redhead with a bright smile and a gleam in her eye that made him more than a little uneasy. “Hello, I’m looking for Rosemary…”

The redhead continued to smile at him, her smile growing by the moment. “Of course you are.” She laughed, shaking her head. “She’s in the back.” She pointed towards the back of the store. “Go on.”

He nodded in thanks and made his way towards the doorway that would lead, he assumed, to the storeroom and office. He could her the murmur of Rosemary’s voice as he drew closer to the office. Annoyance and exasperation were clear in her tone.

“Well that’s not good enough.” She groaned. “No, I really don’t care, nor frankly do I believe, that the order got lost in the post….No, that is not good enough. I need those packages here by the end of the week at the absolute latest…That’s not my problem.” She paused, “Fine. If they aren’t you will most certainly be hearing from me.” He heard the phone slam against its receiver followed by a deep sigh.

He stepped boldly into the office, coffees at the ready. “I come in peace.”

Rosemary started, hand clapping against her chest. “Tom?!”

Tom smiled sheepishly. Scaring her hadn’t been his intent. “I figured since you couldn’t come for coffee I could bring the coffee to you.” He placed her cup on the corner of the desk. He then fished several sachets of sugar and small containers of creamer from his pockets and set them beside the cup with a shrug. “I didn’t know how you take it so…”

Rosemary’s smile was blinding. “Thank you.” She grabbed the to go cup and removed its lid. She then grabbed two sachets of sugar and a container of cream, emptying them into her cup with practiced ease. He stored that knowledge away. For next time.

She gestured Tom to take the open chair on the opposite side of the desk. He pulled the chair closer to Rosemary’s and settled himself. “I take it things aren’t running as smoothly as you’d like.” He gestures briefly at the phone and the stack of papers on the desk before her.

“Not really.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I’ve honestly had better days.”

Tom nodded, “That I can certainly understand. I hope all will be as it should soon.”

He watched as she fiddled with the empty creamer container. The fact that she appeared just as nervous as he had been was heartening. She quickly seemed to catch herself, tossing the container in the nearby wastebasket and settling her hands firmly in her lap. “Thank you. For the coffee, I mean. I felt awful canceling on you like that. Especially at the last minute.”

He smiled, “Trust me, I understand last minute emergencies. I’ve had to cancel many a date when shooting or rehearsal ran longer than expected.”

She frowned slightly and he could have kicked himself. Way to sound like a prat, Tom, nicely done.

“I mean…”

She waved off his explanation. “No, I know what you mean. But still, thank you all the same.”

“I’m glad. I really did want to see you again.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from but he couldn’t deny the truth in them. Despite everything, he truly had wanted to see her again. To get the chance to know her better. To talk with her.

She blushed, ducking her head slightly behind the coffee cup in her hand.  “I really wanted to see you again too,” she admitted.

They sat and talked until their coffees had long since gone cold. They talked about their mutual love of books. About living in the city. Places they’d been and places they wanted to go. About plays and movies. About just about everything that seemed to pass through their minds.

It was effortless between them in a way Tom hadn’t experienced in too long a time. He felt as though he could have sat with her in that tiny office for the rest of time and been completely content.

As he walked back towards the underground and home, Tom found himself feeling truly excited once more. He had no idea where this would lead but he knew with absolute certainty that Rosemary was someone he didn’t want to be without.

Next

[leviloviatar]

You literally understand these characters so much i love it. It’s by no means a matter of course esp with this crap show that butchers Arya and Gendry’s characters (and bran too :(() but what are your favourite character traits of Gendry? And in what ways are Robert and Gendry similar and different?

OK YOU GUYS I AM EXCITED

First of all anon thank you so much!!! Not only was I blessed with this amazing ask, but I also got this similar one:

You’re active again omg I love your blog and your gendrya posts :D so I wanted to ask in which ways Gendry and Robert are similar and in which ways are they different? I think he is kind of a mixture between Robert and Stannis

I don’t know what I did to deserve my asks to blessed with these amazing anons but I LOVE YOU and since you both just happened to ask me about one of my favorite subjects of all time…*cracks knuckles* 

Let’s talk about some burly, beautiful, Baratheon boys, shall we?

So the most glaringly obvious similarity between Gendry and Robert has got to be the “Baratheon Look,” right? GRRM takes great pains to remind us, time and time again, that Gendry looks like Robert. They both have the classic Baratheon features - tall with dreamy blue eyes, thick black hair, and very big muscles. 

*Its important to remember, that although when we first meet Robert Baratheon he’s gotten old and fat, back in his day he was a damn fine looking man.

Fifteen years past, when they had ridden forth to win a throne, the Lord of Storm’s End had been clean-shaven, clear-eyed, and muscled like a maiden’s fantasy. Six and a half feet tall, he towered over lesser men, and when he donned his armor and the great antlered helmet of his House, he became a veritable giant. He’d had a giant’s strength too, his weapon of choice a spiked iron warhammer that Ned could scarcely lift. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like perfume.-AGOT, Eddard I

For reference as to how ripped Robert was, Ned Stark, who wields a two-handed broadsword (note: that’s really fucking heavy) can barely even lift the warhammer Robert is swinging around…Robert was ripped. 

Speaking of hammers, Gendry has literally grown up swinging a hammer (albeit around a forge) but remember when Tohbo Mott tells Ned that Gendry was made to swing a hammer? And since we now have show!Gendry swinging a warhammer, I have high hopes that book!Gendry will also follow in Robert’s footsteps as to his weapon of choice. In case all that hammer imagery doesn’t hit hard enough (pun intended and also I’m so sorry lol) GRRM is constantly reminding us that Gendry looks like Robert. I mean, when Ned first discovers Gendry, the reader is given the literary equivalent of a big blinking neon sign that says ‘hey look at this kid, he looks just like King Robert’ - 

The master called over a tall lad about Robb’s age, his arms and chest corded with muscle. “This is Lord Stark, the new Hand of the King,” he told him as the boy looked at Ned through sullen blue eyes and pushed back sweat-soaked hair with his fingers. Thick hair, shaggy and unkempt and black as ink. The shadow of a new beard darkened his jaw.-AGOT, Eddard VI

And just so we seriously don’t forget, there are plenty of reminders throughout the books that hey, this guy really looks like a Baratheon.  For example:

Strands of thick black hair, still wet from the bathhouse, fell across his deep blue eyes. - ACOK, Arya II

When she spied Gendry, his bare chest was slick with sweat, but the blue eyes under the heavy black hair had the stubborn look she remembered. -ACOK, Arya VIII

Remember when Brienne first sees Gendry, and for a second she thinks its Renly?  (AFFC, Brienne VII, I think?) Well, despite his inconsistent eye color…“Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile.” (-ACOK, Catelyn II).

Another thing Gendry shares with Robert is a bit of that famous Baratheon temper. “Ours is the Fury” are the house words, after all. This is especially true of Robert, who is a bit infamous for his “fury,” and we see his temper quite often. For example:

“Gods,” the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. -AGOT, Eddard VIII

and with the king in such a black fury … -AGOT, Eddard VIII

Robert was in a fury, until he heard talk of some monstrous boar deeper in the forest. - AGOT, Eddard XII

Robert Baratheon’s fury had soured the ironmen’s taste for the new gods, it would seem. - ACOK, Theon I

This is also the man who, despite already having killed Rhaegar Targaryen, still dreams about killing him every single night of his life. Have you ever been so angry at something that after you’ve smashed it to bits, you still want to smash it? Robert Baratheon has. But for me, the very worst example of his temper that we see as readers is when he slaps Cersei, and then threatens to do it again (I feel like the fact that Robert feels guilty about this says a lot about his inability to control his temper, more on that in a sec). Point is, Robert has a bad temper. 

But we also see traces of this famous ‘Baratheon fury’ in Gendry. Although it mostly surfaces as his stubbornness (oh hi Stannis), we do get to see instances of Gendry’s temper getting the better of him (my personal favorite being the Peach, but also see jealous!Gendry). But the important thing is, that Gendry is able to control his temper much more effectively than Robert. This is most likely due to the fact that he has to. Robert is the king, he can do whatever he wants with no consequences. But Gendry? A lowborn bastard with no money or connections? Yeah, he can’t go around doing that. Losing his temper could also mean losing his life, no matter how strong he his, because of his position in society, which brings me to the most important part about these two which is their Big Differences: 

Robert is the legitimate son and heir of a wealthy and powerful noble family

Gendry is a very poor, lowborn bastard with no family

Robert was an infamous womanizer who fathered many bastard children

Gendry is a blushing virgin who only has eyes for Arya Stark and would literally never touch another woman ever fight me

I feel like Robert and Gendry are sort of like a case study in nurture vs. nature. Despite their many genetic similarities, their vastly different socioeconomic environments shaped them in very different ways. Robert grew up as the eldest son of a Great House - he lived in a castle, knowing that he would inherit that castle, and all the lands, titles, and privileges that come along with it; other lords owed him allegiance; he was wealthy, powerful, and on top of that, he was good at everything he did (much to the chagrin of his younger brother Stannis). He wasn’t just any lord, but the Lord of Storm’s End, a very important position in society, and then he went on to become the fucking King, arguably the most important person in society. So what does he do with all his money and power? 

Robert Baratheon had always been a man of huge appetites, a man who knew how to take his pleasures -AGOT, Eddard I.

And what does Robert have an appetite for? In his own words: “warring and whoring, that’s what I was made for.” - Robert to Ned, AGOT, Eddard VII. Drinking, fucking, fighting, that’s what he likes. (We could talk about how much of that is actually a coping mechanism but let’s save psychoanalyzing Robert’s actions for another, crazier post lol).

Gendry being both a lowborn and a bastard is crucial in shaping the man that he becomes. Gendry grew up in essentially the exact opposite circumstances that Robert did. Not only was he lowborn and extremely poor, but he had to live with the added stigma of being a bastard (and an ‘unrecognized’ bastard at that, which we see in ASOIAF is very different than being a ‘recognized’ bastard). As we know, being a bastard is something that Gendry is painfully aware of. (Unlike Robert, who doesn’t seem to give a single fuck how many bastards he leaves behind). Gendry hates the father he never knew. And on top of that, his opinion of Robert is pretty damn low as well…

“That old drunk?“ said Gendry scornfully. “He’s dead, some boar killed him, everyone knows that.” - ASOS, Arya II

I think the reason Gendry doesn’t have the inclination to abuse alcohol or women in the way Robert did because this is the world he was born and raised in. Gendry could never afford to be the womanizing drunk his father was.  Of course, I’m not saying that if Gendry had the same upbringing as Robert then he definitely would have turned out the same - maybe, maybe not. I’m merely saying that the possibility of becoming someone like that doesn’t exist for Gendry. This is someone at the very bottom of the social ladder, someone with no money to spend in taverns or brothels. Actually, even engaging in consensual sex would be pretty risky for Gendry, because it could lead to huge ramifications, for example, fathering a bastard he couldn’t afford to care for, or pissing off the wrong father or brother. Stepping out of line could literally mean his life, since someone like Gendry could be killed in the slums of Flea Bottom with literally no ramifications. 

To me, this is also what makes Acorn Hall such a big fucking deal - Gendry Waters pulling Arya Stark down to the floor and rolling around with her like that is BOLD AF and Gendry knows that. It’s one of the main reasons I squeal every time I read it. I really do think there’s a very Baratheon-like part of him that comes out, especially where she is concerned. Speaking of which, Gendry and Robert both have remarkably similar (excellent) taste in women - all those Arya/Lyanna parallels aren’t there for no reason!

Another interesting parallel between Robert and Gendry is their experiences with war. Robert loved war. I mean he really loved war. He was good at it. It made him feel exhilarated. And most importantly, the horrors of war didn’t really impact him because he was part of the aristocracy. Gendry’s journey, by stark contrast, has literally taken him through the devastating impacts of war on the common people. He has seen the worst of it - the myriad of ways that wars waged by the nobility literally destroys the people those lords are supposed to be protecting. In my opinion, these experiences are exactly what would make him a good king, not only better than Robert, but also better than Stannis or Renly, because Gendry understands on a very real level the suffering of the people. 

(Personally, I would love to have more about the young!Baratheons, like growing up at Storms End together, and see how their personalities developed into the men they became. If this is a fic, somebody link me!) 

Ok so I’m really gonna wrap this up now before it becomes so long that no one ever leaves me asks again, but remember what Donal Noye said about the Baratheon brothers?

“Robert was the true steel. Stannis is pure iron, black and hard and strong, yes, but brittle, the way iron gets. He’ll break before he bends. And Renly, that one, he’s copper, bright and shiny, pretty to look at but not worth all that much at the end of the day.”

Well, I know I’ve said this before but I think Gendry is Valyrian Steel. He was forged differently from the others, but because of that he is uncommonly strong, sharp, and exceptionally valuable.

[winterisakiller]

Of Anxieties and Coffee Dates

One Shot: Last Minutes and Lost Evenings 4/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/ Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Summary: It was just coffee. Only coffee. There was no reason what so ever for his nervousness but yet here he was.

Rating: PG                                                                                                  

Warnings/Authors Notes: This is the fourth part of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

Previous

He was nervous; sweaty palm, can’t sit still, ‘Dear God what I have done?’ nervous. And it was utterly ridiculous. He was just taking her out for coffee; it wasn’t exactly a marriage proposal or even the start of something remotely serious, there was absolutely no reason for him to feel this way. But he did. And it was driving him nearly to distraction.

 Luke had been the first to pick up on Tom’s less than stoic demeanor and in his usual roundabout way worked to needle the reason out of his client. With the chaos that the previous summer and its fallout had brought, Luke had taken a much keener interest in Tom’s comings and goings. It was both a blessing and a curse.

 “I’m fine, seriously,” Tom reassured, doing his best to ignore the incredulous look his publicist shot him.

 “And I’m the bloody Queen.” Tom could not fight the smirk that spread across his features which earned him a knowing glare from Luke. “Not a word, Hiddleston. Not one word.”

 Tom threw his hands up, laughing. “I didn’t say a thing.”

 “And you better not. But in all seriousness, what is going on with you? You’re not you today. You’re making me anxious just looking at you.”

 Tom ran a shaky hand through his already mused hair and offered a loose smile, “I’m seeing someone. Or well not seeing them, seeing them. We’re meeting for coffee. It’s nothing. I’m just being ridiculous…” his voice trailed off, the smile on his face turning sheepish as he realized how badly he’d been rambling.

 “So if my Tom-speak is up to scratch,” Luke inferred, chuckling as Tom rolled his eyes, “what I’m understanding is you’ve met someone you’re interested in and now your nerves are getting the better of you,” He laughed, patting Tom heartily on the shoulder. “And how did you meet?”

 Tom sighed and rubbed his hands on his thighs. “She dropped her glove on the tube. I returned it. We talked, I got a call, she left. I bumped into her again in a bookshop. We talked again. I asked her for coffee. She’s just…It’s nothing really.” He shrugged, unsure who he was trying to convince. And knowing his continued rambling did little to help.

 Luke’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Such a small change that Tom wasn’t completely sure he hadn’t imagined it. “And she knows about you?”

 Tom chuckled despite himself as the memory of her blurted words and subsequent embarrassment flitted through his mind. “She does.”

 Luke frowned slightly, “You’re sure meeting up with this woman, someone you don’t really know, is the best idea?”

 Tom stiffened at Luke’s quiet censure. “It’s just coffee, Luke.”

 “Just be careful.”

 Tom did not let himself focus on what had been implied in that statement. There were times Luke grated his last nerve with his concern, warranted or not. He knew better than most the need for caution. Especially after the disaster his last relationship had turned out to be.

 But this wasn’t anything. Not really. Yes, she intrigued him. She was attractive, smart, funny. But it was just coffee. As much as he was growing to like Rosemary, he honestly wasn’t sure he was ready for anything concrete. It’s just fucking coffee. Get a grip.

 The rest of the morning drug on with the same painful slowness. He had always hated these planning meetings. All of the sitting around and playing nice on conference call after conference call tended to drive him round the bend. He knew how important they were to his career, but that knowledge did little to make them easier to bare. Adding to that his distraction and worry about Rosemary and their probably not a date date and it took all he had not to weep with joy when Luke told him they were calling it a day.

 He was a bundle of nerves on the journey back home, knee bouncing impatiently as he counted the stops until his own. Tom would periodically glance at his watch, mentally counting down the time until he had to be at the small café a block and a half from Stories Untold. In all honesty he couldn’t remember the walk from the station to his front door. One minute he was exiting the ticketing barrier and the next he was sliding his key into the lock on his front door.

 Once inside he found himself pacing aimlessly around his living room, tugging at his shirt and running his fingers through his hair. He toyed briefly with the idea of going for a run to clear his head but knew that with the way his thoughts had been jumbled he would probably take far too long and risk being late or worse having to skip a shower not be so. And while he knew his personality could work miracles, he doubted it would do much to overpower the fresh hell that was him post run.

 With a sigh, he dropped himself onto the couch, pulling his phone from his pocket. He forced himself to muck about, catching up on his email and with the comings and goings of the world. Anything that would work as a distraction. Unconsciously he found himself opening his messaging program and staring at the conversation he’d had with Rosemary.

 They had exchanged a handful of messages throughout the past week. Mostly logistical, trying to mesh their schedules had been a far greater task than either had envisioned. Between meetings, inventories, and sick employees nothing they had planned seemed to come to pass.

 He stared at the phone, messaging program open, cursor blinking accusingly. He started several messages canceling their ‘date’ only to delete each one in turn. What kind of asshole cancels last minute?

 Apparently this asshole.

 He clicked out of the messaging program and tossed the phone onto the couch beside him, putting his head in his now free hands and groaned. It was by sheer dumb luck that they both had this particular afternoon free. And now here he was contemplating backing out. Like a complete and utter wanker.

 The phone chimed causing him to very nearly jump out of his skin. A text. It’s just a bloody text. He sighed and laughed at his own skittishness. God, what is wrong with me? He blindly grabbed for the phone and hit the side button which brought the screen to life. His eyes caught Rosemary’s name and he felt his heart stutter. Swiping the alert open, he quickly read the message she’d sent.

 ‘So sorry but I have to cancel. We’ve had a bit of a cock up with the latest delivery and I need to spend the rest of the afternoon with the dispatchers letting my annoyance be known. Again so sorry. Maybe tomorrow?’

 Tom couldn’t fight the frown that crossed his face. True, he had been debating on cancelling their get together, but the fact that she had been the one to back out hurt. It was ridiculously selfish and self-centered of him and he bloody well knew it, but he couldn’t help wondering if she had come up with her excuse as a way of letting him down gently. Which was ludicrous. Her excuse was a valid one. He did not know much about Rosemary, admittedly, but he knew that she lived and breathed that shop. It was clear in the way she had talked about it, the way her eyes lit up and she rambled on. It was a trait he himself knew he possessed when talking about something he was genuinely passionate about.  

 He took a few moments to compose himself before responding. ‘I understand. Hope you give them what-for. I’ll have to check my schedule. We’ll figure something out.’ He hit send and immediately regretted his word choice. We’ll figure something out? He rubbed his eyes in exasperation, I sound like a fucking prat.

 But there was little he could do about it now. If he tried to explain himself he feared he’d only dig himself in further.

 His phone chimed again. ‘Okay.’

 Well fuck.

 ——

 What am I doing? The thought echoed in his mind as he made his way into Rosemary’s bookshop, two coffees in hand. He had nearly turned around a dozen times since leaving his house on a stupid whim after receiving her stark response.

 It had seemed so glaringly obvious as he’d made his way out the door. They couldn’t meet but he could always go to her. It was comical, the complete turnabout he’d taken. From convincing himself that meeting with her was a terrible idea to knowing with absolute certainty that he needed to see her.

 But as he made his way into the shop he found himself once again questioning just what the hell he was playing at.

 “Well hello.”

 Tom’s attention snapped to the counter. Behind it stood a tall redhead with a bright smile and a gleam in her eye that made him more than a little uneasy. “Hello, I’m looking for Rosemary…”

 The redhead continued to smile at him, her smile growing by the moment. “Of course you are.” She laughed, shaking her head. “She’s in the back.” She pointed towards the back of the store. “Go on.”

 He nodded in thanks and made his way towards the doorway that would lead, he assumed, to the storeroom and office. He could her the murmur of Rosemary’s voice as he drew closer to the office. Annoyance and exasperation were clear in her tone.

 “Well that’s not good enough.” She groaned. “No, I really don’t care, nor frankly do I believe, that the order got lost in the post….No, that is not good enough. I need those packages here by the end of the week at the absolute latest…That’s not my problem.” She paused, “Fine. If they aren’t you will most certainly be hearing from me.” He heard the phone slam against its receiver followed by a deep sigh.

 He stepped boldly into the office, coffees at the ready. “I come in peace.”

 Rosemary started, hand clapping against her chest. “Tom?!”

 Tom smiled sheepishly. Scaring her hadn’t been his intent. “I figured since you couldn’t come for coffee I could bring the coffee to you.” He placed her cup on the corner of the desk. He then fished several sachets of sugar and small containers of creamer from his pockets and set them beside the cup with a shrug. “I didn’t know how you take it so…”

 Rosemary’s smile was blinding. “Thank you.” She grabbed the to go cup and removed its lid. She then grabbed two sachets of sugar and a container of cream, emptying them into her cup with practiced ease. He stored that knowledge away. For next time.

 She gestured Tom to take the open chair on the opposite side of the desk. He pulled the chair closer to Rosemary’s and settled himself. “I take it things aren’t running as smoothly as you’d like.” He gestures briefly at the phone and the stack of papers on the desk before her.

 “Not really.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I’ve honestly had better days.”

 Tom nodded, “That I can certainly understand. I hope all will be as it should soon.”

 He watched as she fiddled with the empty creamer container. The fact that she appeared just as nervous as he had been was heartening. She quickly seemed to catch herself, tossing the container in the nearby wastebasket and settling her hands firmly in her lap. “Thank you. For the coffee, I mean. I felt awful canceling on you like that. Especially at the last minute.”

 He smiled, “Trust me, I understand last minute emergencies. I’ve had to cancel many a date when shooting or rehearsal ran longer than expected.”

 She frowned slightly and he could have kicked himself. Way to sound like a prat, Tom, nicely done.

“I mean…”

 She waved off his explanation. “No, I know what you mean. But still, thank you all the same.”

 “I’m glad. I really did want to see you again.” He didn’t know where the words were coming from but he couldn’t deny the truth in them. Despite everything, he truly had wanted to see her again. To get the chance to know her better. To talk with her.

 She blushed, ducking her head slightly behind the coffee cup in her hand.  “I really wanted to see you again too,” she admitted.

 They sat and talked until their coffees had long since gone cold. They talked about their mutual love of books. About living in the city. Places they’d been and places they wanted to go. About plays and movies. About just about everything that seemed to pass through their minds.

 It was effortless between them in a way Tom hadn’t experienced in too long a time. He felt as though he could have sat with her in that tiny office for the rest of time and been completely content.

 As he walked back towards the underground and home, Tom found himself feeling truly excited once more. He had no idea where this would lead but he knew with absolute certainty that Rosemary was someone he didn’t want to be without.

Next

[foslad]

Almost Too Good (A Chris Evans Story): Part 21 - 3/3

A/N: I’M NOT DEAD! After months of saving, I finally invested in a new laptop and FINALLY this chapter is here. It turned out longer than I expected but I knew I had a lot to wrap up in it. Wow-ee, the love I received on my last post was beyond overwhelming and I appreciate it so very much, thank you, thank you, a million times thank you!

For anyone who is still here for this almost two year old story where the characters are still stuck back in 2016 because I’m trash, thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Only one more to go! </3

There was a quaint balcony area that overlooked the gardens of the venue and whilst most took the space as an opportunity to sneak a crafty cigarette, I managed to find a small little bench away from everyone to just unwind. The sounds of LA’s distant sirens drowned out the low hum from the music inside; save for when it was freed every time someone passed in and out of the doors.

I rested my palm on my ribcage - silently cursing myself for picking such a tight dress. God, I could barely breathe in this thing.

It’d been a few minutes and the air was beginning to bite at my bare skin, but I still couldn’t bring myself to move back inside. My thoughts were all but consumed by flashbacks to that night and all it entailed; the excitement that lay within my stomach as anticipation grew at surprising Alex, the deathly silence of our apartment that ultimately drew me to look for him, the turning of the bedroom doorknob and the horror’s that lay behind it…

I shut my eyes and breathed the crisp, night air deeply. In through the nose and out through the mouth until I felt calm again.

I let my eyes flutter open and willingly allowed myself to be distracted by my surroundings.

No more than ten feet in front of me, I could see David Spade and his much younger date cracking up at a story that Sarah Silverman and Michael Sheen were telling; all four puffing away on cigarettes. They all looked so happy and relaxed in each other’s company, all of them having a seemingly great night.

Childishly, I pouted just looking at them. It seemed unfair.

Why was I out here being miserable whilst everyone else around me had a good time? It was exhausting to think of the countless hours of my life I had wasted on wracking my brains and feebly attempting to discover what was wrong with me; what I could’ve possibly done to deserve such a disservice in life at the hands of someone who swore that they “loved” me.

In front of me, Sarah had perched her head on Michael’s shoulder and it was then that I noticed something different about her. She wasn’t her like public persona at all in private. Instead, she was mellow and cuddly and doing everything in her power to get closer to Michael without it being over the top.

She was in love.

I sighed to myself. God, I was so good at dwelling on the bad. Yes, I was mad about the events of today but apparently that’s all I was capable of. From the moment I had arrived in LA today, all the way up until now, it just seemed like punch after punch.

But, realistically, tonight wasn’t supposed to be about what Alex did to me; or to “her” for that matter.

It was supposed to be about Chris. Sweet, adorable, sometimes clueless, Chris. The man who had unwittingly taken my broken little heart and sewed it back together again and made it feel better than it ever had.

It was supposed to be about how, despite my glaringly obvious insecurities, Chris was still out here introducing me to the people he surrounded himself with every day and the people he respected the most in life.

It was supposed to be about basking in his company after a month long absence and dreaming about never letting it go again.

Shutting my eyes once more, I melted into the familiar warmth that visions of Chris often brought me. I knew that the longer I was out here, the more he would start to worry and naturally start to look for me.

Taking a moment or two to centre myself, I eventually opened my eyes and leapt a little in my seat; letting out an involuntary yelp in the process.

Staring ahead, I immediately wished I could shut the world out again and go back to the happy place I had just created because, just my luck, there “she” was again; that devil red dress hugging those irresistible curves - that tumbling brown hair and those captivating hazel eyes just staring at me.

I slowly pressed my palms against the stone of the bench under me; clutching so hard, it wouldn’t surprise me if I drew blood. Pushing myself up, I waited until the very last second to raise my head and acknowledge that I was now standing level with her.

I didn’t say a word, choosing to give her a “What? What more could you possibly want with me?” look.

To my complete astonishment, however, it was Chelsea who quickly initiated the first steps of conversation. ‘Hi… Adrian.’

Instinctively, I crossed my arms and remained silent. I didn’t want to “talk” to her; not now, not ever. All I really wanted to do was push past her and go back inside and be with Chris and do everything in my power to keep him from her and her man-eating ways. However immature that seemed, I didn’t care.

Chelsea nodded her head lightly and drew her lips into a nervous thin smile as she accepted my reaction as fair. So she should.

We stood there awkwardly for another few seconds as she attempted to work out what to say next, her hands giving away her worries. Curiously, her next move was to take another step towards me and speak out in a low voice.

‘I’m not here to cause a scene,’ she began, briefly looking over her shoulder to check nobody was eavesdropping, ‘I just really wanted to talk to you.’

I stood there staring at her, wary of what she would have to say to me and wishing I was anywhere else but here. Most of all, still really, really not wanting to talk to her.

Chelsea signalled back towards the bench, insinuating that we both take a seat. I looked back and forth between her and the bench before going against my better judgement and perching myself on the very edge of it; still annoyed. Still wary. The sass in my leg cross as I sat down sent shock-waves, I was sure of it.

‘I really don’t know how to put into words everything I want to say to you exactly, and I’m so appreciative of you hearing me out. So, I guess I’ll just start with… I’m sorry.’

You know what, bitch I-… oh.

‘I know you’ve probably spent the last two years hating me because, funnily enough, so have I.’ She continued, shuffling towards me a little, her face solemn. ‘And-and I know this sounds like complete horseshit, believe me I know, but I’m really not that kind of girl Adrian. I don’t go around stealing people’s boyfriends or-or ruining relationships for fun. That isn’t who I am.’

… oh.

‘Alex had me under the impression that you guys weren’t on good terms, going through a separation, that you’d moved out…’ She listed, her voice growing more desperate with every syllable she uttered. ‘God, Adrian, I would have NEVER gone there if I knew the truth.’

My silence wasn’t by choice anymore, I was truly taken aback at her words. Obviously, I would never know if there was actual truth to them. I didn’t know her. We were never formally introduced before I caught her naked in my bed with my ex-boyfriend. I didn’t know what kind of person she was and whether or not she was just saying all of this to make herself feel better or if she really was sorry.

My train of thought soon overpowered her nasally voice and I found myself tuning out; only ever picking out little notes of audio in an otherwise soundless head space.

‘I always hoped I would run into you so that I could explain…’

‘I ended it that very second after you walked out!’

‘…and, more than anything, I’m sorry you lost Alex over it.’

‘Oh.’ That last one was audible on my part. Her final words had hit me like a train.

You know, it’s strange. As much as that night had haunted me, the lessons I’d learnt over the past few months had taught me that… it was never about losing Alex.

It was about losing myself.

Yes, I was left completely heartbroken by the situation, but not from “losing Alex”. I didn’t miss him. I didn’t crave him or what we had. I spent six years years with the guy, and it borderline scared me how, in so many ways, the few months I’d spent with Chris fulfilled me more than any length of time I’d ever spent with Alex.

And that was the revelation of the century for me.

So, right there and then, on a bench, in the middle of Los Angeles, at an event with a bunch of familiar strangers, I let go of the past that I had let run my life for so long. I sent a grateful Chelsea off with the promise of keeping the deed she had done to myself and with a safe mind frame that none of her new co-stars would know about what she had done to me.

Was it too nice of me? Probably. But I was too tired to keep this charade going. I had finally had my epiphany moment.

As Chelsea walked away, I noticed someone brush past her as they exited through the door. I was quickly joined by another presence, one that clasped their hands together and draped them over the side of the balcony and sighed heavily.

‘You sure you’re alright?’ Chris frowned, ‘I feel like there’s somethin’ you’re not telling me here.’

‘Everything’s fine, Evans. I was actually just about to come back inside.’ I insisted, rubbing his hand on the wall. ‘I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day, what with the flight and everything…’

‘You wanna go?’ He offered immediately, ‘I can call for the car?’

‘No, that’s okay. I’m happy to stay for a little longer,’ I smiled, touched at his thoughtfulness, ‘the fresh air has helped a lot.’

‘If you’re sure. Let me know if you change your mind, ‘kay?’

I nodded and Chris flashed me that trademark goofy smile before leaning in for a kiss.

Now more than ever, I wanted a kiss so badly. I wanted to be reassured and cuddled and desired. But I had to remind him that touching me was a privilege, not a right. And earlier, at his house, he’d fucked up. So, to my complete displeasure, I dodged his kiss and gave him cheek instead.

What made me laugh was Chris’ quick acceptance of it too, albeit with a deep sigh. ‘I’m still in trouble, huh?’

‘Oh yeah. Deep, deep, trouble.’ I teased, laying a small kiss on his cheek and accepting his outstretched arm to wander back inside.

On our way in, I clocked Sarah and Michael again and smiled; squeezing Chris’ arm a little tighter in contentment.

-

I stumbled up the hall, attempting to take my shoes off as I went. I could hear Chris start to converse with Dodger in the living room, trying his best to excite him about going to pee in the backyard instead of an actual walk.

Oof, it’d been a long night.

After much fiddling, I managed to zip my dress down to the bottom of my back before ultimately deciding to just let it sit there until I could hang it up properly. In the mean time, I walked over to my suitcase and pulled out the boxes for my jewellery and set them down on Chris’ dresser.

After only a brief moment of solitude, the click of the bedroom door shutting resounded in the silence and I subtly peeked behind to see Chris begin to take his suit jacket off and roll up his shirt sleeves.

‘So, about earlier…’ He started, drawing closer. For a brief moment, my “subtle peeking” had turned to staring as I watched his fingers roll the fabric up his arms.

‘What about it?’ I replied knowingly, turning around and returning my attention to the jewellery.

Within seconds, Chris’ chest was dangerously close to my back, but not quite enough that we were touching.

Determined to not be distracted, I continued to face away and take my rings off; despite the fact that his cologne was now filling my nostrils with it’s pleasing scent. As gently as I could, I took a deep inhale and closed my eyes.

Don’t give in, Adrian…

… Not yet, at least.

‘I really don’t know what I can say to make it up to you,’ Chris’ voice vibrated behind me, catching me off guard despite his closeness, ‘except for, I’m an idiot. And I’m sorry. Truly, very, sorry Adrian.’

I shivered slightly as the tips of his fingers barely grazed themselves over the strap of my dress. The last ring of mine came off with a thud as it landed down onto the others.

Still with only the slightest of touches, his fingers danced their way down the exposed track of my undone zip until they reached the middle of my back, where they walked forward. Now under the fabric, Chris laid his palm out flat on my rib-cage and ever so gently tugged me back.

Bending his neck, his breath enveloped my ear, ‘So, with that that being said. What if I told you, I’m willing to do anything to make this up to you?’  

I felt my stomach star to pool as my eyes rolled back at the sensation of his tender touch, my voice now mimicking my shaky limbs.

‘Don’t say that…’

‘Why not?’ He feigned, his lips resting above my pulse point.

‘Because, you’re making me weak.’ I confessed with a croaky little laugh before lazily laying my own hand over the one hidden in my dress.

‘Oh yeah?’ He whispered, a smirk clearly beginning to creep in as he finally rested a kiss on my neck.

I reached behind with my free hand and let my nails brush through his hair; my fingers eventually latching onto a tuft as he nuzzled my own hair out of the way.

But just before I would allow myself to melt into him fully, I had to be serious for a second. Stopping my strokes suddenly, I breathed in and warned him, ‘If you ever answer your phone during sex again, then rest assured, we will never have sex again.’ I cocked my brow and looked back at him, deliberately making eye contact. ‘Got it?’

‘Roger that.’ Chris nodded hastily, his beard rubbing my hair as he did so. ‘Won’t happen again, ma’am. I promise.’

‘Good.’ I lowered my eyebrow and let my eyes drift down to his lips. ‘Then you can kiss me now.’

‘Thank God for that.’ Twisting me in his arms, he clasped my hips and pressed a deep kiss down onto my lips. Total ecstasy.

Even the balls of my feet felt tingly as I struggled to stay upright. Sadly, my muscles were tired from a long day of travelling and a long night of socialising; topped off, of course, with the emotional strain of confronting one’s past.

Truthfully, as enticing as Chris was being, all I wanted to do right now was flop somewhere.

‘You know, if you really, really, realllyy, wanted to make it up to me…’ I schmoozed, pulling away slightly as his mouth went for my neck, ‘you could… rub my shoulders for me?’

Chris broke out into a grin, I could feel it against my neck, before he rose his head in amusement at our broken moment of intimacy. I let my chin hit my shoulder as I did my best to entice him into massaging me; rolling my hands along his torso. ‘Pllleeeaaassseee?’

Cracking up at my campaign, he eventually relented and gently lay a kiss on my lips. ‘Sure thing, Warner.’

One borrowed t-shirt and a quick brush of the teeth later, I was positioning myself on the bed. I hopped up on my knees and pulled my hair forward over my shoulders. I’d only really gained the privilege of resting on the balls of my feet back recently - my butt bruise hadn’t felt like healing as quickly as the rest of my body.

Chris started with my shoulders, rubbing them as gently as his strong physique would allow. Occasionally, he’d lay a kiss on the back of my neck after he’d finished with a certain spot. Oh God, that felt good.

Slowly but surely, I could feel myself start to lean back into his chest. He was doing these hand compression's on my forearms and I felt like I had never been more relaxed in my entire life.

My eyes started to slowly shut as I inhaled deeply, completely basking in the moment. There really was nowhere I’d rather be in the world than right here, right now, with my Evans.

(Being massaged like this helped too, I suppose…)

-

When I opened them again, my body jolted upwards at the sight of the dark room, lit only by the peeking moonlight shining through the cracks in the blinds. As my eyes adjusted I noticed that I was now at the head of the bed, under the covers. I looked over to my left and saw Chris fast asleep, the blankets rising and falling on his chest as he snoozed away alongside me.

God, that was quite the massage… Had I really fallen asleep?

The little clock on Chris’ bedside table read 3:02AM, so I did my best to settle back down and get some more sleep. The problem was the more I tried, the more I failed. Miserably. I tossed and turned, my mind now suddenly full of energy despite my body’s obvious exhaustion.

After forty minutes of staring at the ceiling and willing sleep to come, I quietly crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen; the little pitter patter of tiny paws on the hard wood signalling that I was being followed.

Turning only a side lamp on, I padded over to Chris’ fridge and prayed he had something in there that would help me fall back asleep. Normally, when I was back home in New York, I would combat insomnia or any kind of problem I was dealing with by doing some therapeutic baking.

Peering in, I could see he had lots of bottled water, lots of raw fruit and veggies, lots of pre-made meals for the week. Lots of boring things, I sighed. I pulled out some almond milk and decided to pour myself a glass.

Sitting beside the fridge, Dodger turned his head and looked at me like I had lost the plot. And maybe I had.

I was so clearly lying to myself about why I couldn’t sleep that it was borderline embarrassing. My talk with Chelsea earlier had confirmed something deep within me that I hadn’t properly addressed up until now.

That my feelings for Chris were far more than I was letting even myself believe.

I wandered over to the couch and turned the TV on, making sure to press the mute button. An old Home Improvement re-run was on. I stared at it absent-mindedly as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour.

Sure, these “feelings” were all well and good but Chris had a film career, like myself, that we had to take into consideration. I didn’t care for the month we had spent apart over the holidays and now I was faced with the prospect of being separated from him for three whole months while he went off to film Avengers.

And then, there was the torturous fact that we probably hadn’t actually been together long enough to warrant these feelings. I would be setting myself up for disappointment if I allowed myself to believe that Chris felt the same as me. Clearly, no matter how sorry he was or how compulsory it had been, he still answered that call yesterday. He still felt the importance of his career.

I was probably only a moment or two away from ripping some hair out when the light in the hall came on.

Squinting at me with one eye, doing his very best to adjust to the dim lighting, Chris looked around before wandering over and taking a seat next to me.

‘Hey.’ His voice was heavy, almost croaky. ‘It’s 4am. I thought you were tired?’

‘I was, I just… woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep in the end.’ I replied gently, reaching across and trailing a hand down his face; my fingers tingling lightly as they brushed against the hairs of his beard. ‘Go back to bed.’

His head buried itself into my shoulder and he leaned his weight against me slightly as his arms wrapped around my rib-cage and attempted to coax me up off of the seat. ‘I like it better when you’re in it.’ Chris stated, making me swoon entirely.

When it was clear I wasn’t going anywhere, he silently relented and instead laid himself out on the couch and placed his head in my lap and shut his eyes. My hand instinctively began petting his hair and I was entirely enamoured by how handsome he truly was, even at four in the morning.

We shared an intimate moment of silence in which nothing seemed to exist but a sleepy Chris and a caring Adrian.

I don’t know what possessed me to open my mouth again but I did.

‘Chris?’

‘Mm?’ He moaned, his eyes still shut.

‘Remember earlier, when we were out on that balcony? And I said, “everything’s fine” with me?’

‘Mhm.’

‘It wasn’t fine.’

‘Rghh, didn’t think so.’ He reluctantly pulled himself up and stretched. Attempting to wake up somewhat, he patted my leg and yawned. ‘Alright, talk to me.’

‘I’m kind of scared to.’ I confessed meekly.

‘Why?’ Chris replied, looking only slightly offended. ‘You can tell me anything, Warner. I’m not gonna judge you.’

He didn’t need to say it twice. It came out like word vomit; my brain unexpectedly deciding to just purge itself of all bad memories. Alex, the seriousness of our relationship, the warnings from his female friend, the cheating episode. I was so proud of myself that I managed to keep a lid on my emotions and didn’t cry through any of my “tormented past” spiel.

‘… it’s like, the aftermath of all that crap has bled into our relationship far too many times and I don’t want it to be that way anymore. I don’t want this dark, stupid cloud hanging over me anymore. I just want to be Chris and Adrian.’ Suddenly I wasn’t so proud. The muscles in my lower lip began to quiver and the cracks began to appear in my voice. ‘Most of all, I just don’t want to be sad anymore because,’ (Oh no. No, no. Don’t do it.) ‘you make me really happy.’

I had never cried in front of Chris before, so my hands immediately flew up to somehow protect myself and mask it; even though it was so blatantly obvious.

I thought I might hear laughter or some sort of scoffing at how pathetic I was being. Instead, my hand-covered face was smashed into a broad shoulder and a pair of strong arms were pulling me into a lap.

‘Hey, hey, hey. No. Shhh.’ A desperate arm rubbed my back comfortingly.

I unpeeled my hands from my face and swung them around his neck, burying my face into his shoulder in the process.

‘That took a lot of balls, Warner,’ he soothed, his fingers still circling my back, ‘it’s not easy. Hell, I’ve been there myself.’

I pulled away like I’d been electrocuted. ‘What?’

Chris’ hands rose up to wipe my tears as he gazed at me kindly. ‘Let’s just say, for the longest time, I had more of a reason to hate the Yankees than most.’ He was smiling but I could tell it was a bitter one.

The idea of Chris being cheated on had never even been a factor in my mind. And it made me sad. More sad than I could ever be for myself. ‘Who would cheat on you?’

‘I could ask you the same question.’ He smiled, a genuine one this time. ‘Look Adrian, there’s some shitty people in this world. Man, fuck that guy. I’m glad he did it!’

I stared at him wide-eyed for a second, praying he was going somewhere with this.

Chris rested his palms on both of my cheeks and looked me square in the eye. ‘From the moment I met you, I don’t think I’ve breathed the same. Not a day goes by where my thought’s aren’t consumed by you. What you’re doing, if you’re okay, if you’re happy…’

My chest rose and fell as my breathing quickened.

‘You are the most special person I’ve ever met. You’re thoughtful and you’re kind and you always think about others before yourself.’

I swallowed hard, my heart racing more with every passing second.

‘What you just did isn’t the easiest thing to talk about, you gotta be vulnerable.’ He pulled my hand up and lay a gentle kiss on the back of it. ‘But I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I’m crazy about you. Frankly, whoever this asshole is, I should be thanking him. Because his loss, is my gain’

I wanted to sob all over again. He was so beyond perfect it was almost painful on my heart. I crashed my wet face onto his and kissed him harder than I’d ever kissed anyone before.

-

We spent the next ten minutes in almost complete silence, aimlessly watching another muted episode of Home Improvement, his fingertips all the while making soothing circles in my hair.

‘You wanna go back to bed?’ Chris eventually asked, his voice quietly hopeful.

I sighed and shook my head gently, my mind feeling more awake now than it did when I left the bed last. Everything we had just discussed was enough to keep me awake for the rest of the week.

Blowing air out, Chris shut one eye and stared at the ceiling in thought for a moment. ‘A’ritey then.’

He shifted forward and pulled himself up off the couch, breaking our comfy hold in the process. I watched him ascend towards the hall curiously, wondering if he’d abandoned me to head to bed himself; only for him to come back around a minute later - now sporting a pair of sneakers and a navy t-shirt with his sweats.

‘Get your shoes on Warner.’ Chris decreed as he picked up his car keys and whistled for Dodger.

‘Where are we going?’ I inquired, looking at my phone to see 4:56AM stare back at me.

‘Wherever.’ He replied, so much as to say “let’s just fucking get lost somewhere”.

Without skipping a beat, I reacted. ‘Okay, just give me a sec.’ I made for the bedroom to grab my tennis shoes and a pair of pants, all the while smiling to myself at the idea of getting lost with Chris.

-

I was surprised by how long we’d been driving for. Even without the usual LA traffic, we’d been in the car for at least forty minutes at this point and as entertaining as it was to see Dodger have the time of his life hanging his head out of the backseat window, I began to wonder what Chris’ game was. For someone who had to be up in about three hours for a PT session, I imagined a drive in the area surrounding his neighbourhood would have been more suitable as opposed to somewhere this far out?

However, I’d be lying if I said the inner child in me wasn’t loving this little adventure. Chris and I didn’t get to have many adventures together, so I was totally content with sitting in the passenger seat of his car; feeling all warm and fuzzy, with no idea where we were going.

-

Five minutes later and my stubbornness had caused Chris to up his game. ‘Oh c’mon, it’s obvious!’

‘No it’s not! I don’t know LA like you do!’

‘Warner, it’s right in front of you!’

It still took me another minute or so to click that we were by the ocean.

As we hopped out of the car and I shut my door, I realised that the last time I had properly been by the water was when Chris and I had shot the Gucci commercial in Italy.

‘You approve?’ Chris called from the other side of the car. He was putting a leash on Dodger, but the little light reflecting out of the car gave away his smile. He liked it here.

‘Absolutely!’ I replied, pulling the zip up on the sweater Chris had lent me.

-

We sat and rested our elbows on our knees, watching Dodger zoom around, patiently waiting for the first indication of sun to peek out. We were alone for the most part, aside from the crazy early rising joggers and dog walkers that passed by; none of which paying attention to the couple sat minding their own business in the sand. It was bliss.

It was but a taste of the normality we’d been denied so far and even though it was a fleeting moment, it was my idea of heaven.

I twisted and wrapped my arms around Chris’ forearm and snuggled closer, resting my head on his shoulder. His cheek perched itself atop my head as we watched the deep blues of night bow to the crisp, light morning sun.

Taking my fingers and entwining them with Chris’, I let our hands dance together for a second before finally voicing some concerns of mine. ‘Are you nervous at all?’

I couldn’t explain why, but I knew that he would know what I meant. And he did.

‘Of course, I feel like we don’t do well separated.’

My eyes floated away from our hands and up to his own. He cocked his head at me and admitted, ‘Just being honest. Besides, I think that’s mostly to do with the fact that I just don’t like being away from you.’

‘I know.’ I returned my gaze back to our hands. ‘Three months is a big deal.’

‘I’m not sure I have the power to tell you what you want to hear, we can’t predict the future Adrian. All we can do is take each day as it comes.’ He professed. ‘But I’m willing to do everything I can, to make this work.’

I inhaled deeply before finally letting a smile creep out. Was it exactly what I wanted to hear? No. But would I take it? Abso-fucking-lutely.

We didn’t say much more.

We didn’t need to.

I was finally at peace with the idea that, even if nothing ever came of us, this moment was enough to show that whatever we did have, was real.

---------------------------------------------------

THANK YOU FOR GETTING TO THE END OF THIS CHAPTER SWEET READER! It took forever and i’m so beyond sorry for that.

After all this time I feel like I’m so attached to these characters, that I’m tempted for when the last chapter is finished, i’m going to do some “one-shots” to help round off their story <3

Also, I’m going to go back through and eventually edit all of my chapters for mistakes soon. My early chapters make me cringe so hard that I salute ANYONE who persevered through them, especially newer readers used to the quality of the later chapters, haha!

[fridge-reviews]

DarkMaus

Developer: Daniel Wright Publisher: Daniel Wright Rrp: £6.99 (Steam) Released: 26th January 2016 Available on: Steam Played Using: An Xbox 360 Approximate game length: 8 hours You sit by the fire staring into the flames as they dance. Not two minutes ago you had felt a blade enter your gut and now… nothing, not even a scar. On the other side of flame you see shadows pass back and forth erratically, they look almost as if they were desperate. Beyond the circle of light you can hear beasts roaming, waiting for you. This game has been a tough one for me to review. At first I thought I'd make it a blast review as the game is quite short and the constant  comparisons to Dark Souls would become tedious. I even debating creating it's own special style of review.

Let's get it over with and speak about the elephant in the room. As should be readily apparent, Darkmaus has taken a very strong influence from the Dark Souls series. Anyone who is even casually familiar with Dark Souls will be able to spot the glaringly obvious similarities. Resting at campfires that reset the enemies, collecting marrow from enemies, spending said marrow to improve yourself, the list goes on. However it should be noted that it does all of these things well, even if they have been made more simplistic. What makes a game a Soulsborne? It’s clear that merely being difficult isn't enough, otherwise Cuphead would fall under the genre (and that's without talking about the subjective nature of difficulty). Many games have attempted to be a part of this genre, most of which  misunderstood the key elements that are the main draw for this style of game. Of course there isn't any universally accepted definition of what exactly a Soulsborne game actually is. I have my own ideas but I'm willing to bet quite a few people would disagree with me, so for me these are the points that must be fulfilled in order to be a Soulsborne game;

A Soulsborne game must utilise a stamina based combat system.

The learning curve is steep.

A penalty for death besides being set back to the last checkpoint.

No way to save manually.

Makes use of RPG mechanics to level up not only the player character but equipment as well.

One thing is clear though, where the camera is positioned is not a factor.

So, going by that definition is Darkmaus a Soulsborne game? I think so and it's a damned good one at that, even if it's a little short. It borrows extensively from the Dark Souls series substituting names but leaving things mechanically the same (as mentioned previously). However not everything is the copied from Dark Souls. Besides having a top down camera angle, there are three things that are unique to this title that I've not seen in any other Soulsborne style game. Firstly there’s the ability system, as you progress new abilities become open to you that can have devastating effects. The second is the way that sight works, the world in which your character inhabits is dark and as such he carries a torch. Unlike in Dark Souls this isn't an item that takes up a equipment slot but rather is a persistent effect. But as we all know shadows appear where the light doesn't touch and will they change as you move. I'm sure you can guess where a lot of the enemies in that game tend to hide. Lastly are the ghost allies, when you die a shadow of you appears to fight alongside you. They have their own health bar and are equipped with whatever equipment you died in. These ghosts have been extremely helpful in areas where I found myself struggling.

I have to say I really enjoyed this one, sure it's a mere shadow of the Dark Souls series but it's still a great game in it's own right! And it's one it'll keep playing long after this review is complete. If this appeals to you perhaps try; The Dark Souls series Salt and the Sanctuary Darkest Dungeon

[lifesobeautiful]

Stop Losing Sleep: 7 Steps for Stress-free Decision-making

Decision-making can be tough especially when the best choice isn’t glaringly obvious. We’re faced with this process every minute of the day.

When do I wake up? What’s for lunch? Do I want to go out on a date with this person? What do I want to do with my life? Can I stay in this marriage?

Life itself is a series of decisions.

If you’re stressed about a pressing decision, follow these steps to help you find clarity and peace. Do the work and exhaust all options. This way, at the end of the day, you will know you did the right thing for you.

The process is fluid. Know that you might feel compelled to go back and forth between steps.

Give yourself permission to go at your own pace. If you’re putting your brain to work and factoring in your heart and soul, the decision-making process doesn’t have to be agonizing.

Take the time to think things through. Explore each step.

Step #1 Take a deep breath

When we’re stressed, we often miss details. Begin to think of absolutely every option you have. Don’t censor yourself. Get all the thoughts outside of you and onto paper. No typing. The act of writing connects with your brain on a deeper level.

Write all of them down, even the ones that seem really outrageous and far-fetched. What do you need? What do you desire?

Be open minded here and encourage yourself to think outside of the box. You may be writing furiously. Consider rewriting your list so you can see every word and understand each option clearly.

If you’re stumped, start writing anything and everything that comes to mind. Even if that means writing “I don’t know” over and over until new thoughts come forward.

Ask an even keeled, rational friend you can trust for their perspective. State your boundaries from the get-go and be clear that you’re simply asking for help formulating your options.

When we’re so close to something, it can be easy to fall into the trap of viewing things with bias or narrow thinking. Self-limiting beliefs can get in the way.

You might even benefit from seeking out that very honest and blunt friend who tells it like it is. Be prepared to face some hard truths.

See Also: How To Overcome Negative Emotions Using 5 Writing Techniques

Step #2 What is your gut telling you

When intuition kicks in, a choice jumps out at you. If that’s not the case, pay attention to the whispers of uncertainty. Bringing those questions out in the open shines a spotlight on factors we might overlook.

What are you afraid of? Fear can feel like intuition because both are designed to protect us. Fears block you from being the best version of yourself. Intuition prioritizes your highest self.

Say a choice slaps you in the face, shouting “WAKE UP! This is what you have to do!” Pause and recognize the urgency of this message, then put it off to the side. Continue with the rest of these steps. If that is the choice, everything following will confirm it 100%.

Step #3 How do you feel when you think of your choices

Slowly go down your list and check in with your whole body as you weigh each option in your hand. Some choices will elicit very distinct and obvious emotions.

Think with your whole body, not just with your head.

What does your heart say? How does your sense of safety and security feel about this?

Take note of which options feel “good” to you. Mark the ones that make your skin crawl. This information is gold. We’re humans, not robots. Factor in your feelings even if you’re not used to it.

Step #4 Visualize yourself in all possible worst case scenarios

Be so intensely truthful with yourself. Face your fears. What is the worst thing that could happen with each of these choices? What could the aftermath look like?

Step #5 Consider the flip side of this

Dream big and imagine the most optimal outcomes. Allow yourself to think grand and lofty. You are deserving of an amazing life. You can have one if you believe that you are worthy of it. Now is not the time to hold back or self-sabotage.

This could be a chance to open up yourself to a whole new world of possibilities.

Step #6 Use all of your writing to make the ultimate pros & cons list

Do not filter yourself. This is where you go all out. If something feels like it’s a “maybe,” it’s a NO.

What options align with your values? What choices are in agreement with who you are at your core? Where do you feel like you’re being a martyr, instead of advocating for yourself?

Are you hyper focused on what others will think of you? Remember that you’re choosing what’s best for you and your life.

You’re on the look out for HECK YES vibes.

Revisit the choice picked by your intuition. Are you finding a balance between your analytical mind and your emotions? This is where your best options become obvious.

Step #7 You’ve done the work

Congratulations! It’s time to decide with confidence. Clarity has shown up big time and peace of mind is yours if you are open to it.

Remember that there are no wrong choices. Making a decision is simply choosing a direction in life.

Was that a big sigh of relief? You’re now one decision closer to living the life you’ve always wanted.

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