#immediately closes every app and turns on do not disturb

[jackies-ear]

Turns out all it takes to reach out to an old friend is getting wine drunk at 3 am

Now excuse me while I go throw my phone in the river

[artificial-transmutations]

Boyfriend Material

Against all odds, Troy didn't hate Luka when they were assigned the same college dorm room. They were quite different, really: While Troy was the almost stereotypical nerd, from his glasses down to his checkered shirt, Luka was quite the opposite. He had a fit body and was majoring in history of sports.

Where Troy was the quiet, bookish type, Luka was outgoing and active. Troy read books, tinkered with electronics or programmed an app in his free time, while Luka went out for the gym or played rugby on the field. And, of course, even though Luka wasn't stereotypically jock-dumb, Troy was much more intelligent than him.

All those differences had a lot of potential for a relationship of hatred from day one, but, surprisingly, the two of them got along fine. They had separate bedrooms and respected each other’s boundaries so much that they barely talked to each other for the first few weeks. For Troy, it was almost as if he had the dorm for himself. Luka cleaned up after himself and in the few instances when he listened to his bass heavy music too loudly, he immediately turned it down as soon as Troy asked him to, thanking him for the notification even.

So, at first Troy and Luka had a distant but respectful relationship that even made Troy question his prejudices regarding the stereotypical dumb jock.

It was only half a year after moving in together that Troy and Luka discovered one thing they had in common: Bad luck in dating.

Troy was, of course, way too introvert and shy to meet a girl. It was a frustrating experience for him. Every time he matched someone on one of the various dating apps he used, he pondered for hours on how to start a conversation with the girl who was surely way out of his league. More often than not he decided not to text her at all and just deleted the contact frustratedly. At other times, he started a conversation but quickly found himself getting bored from the meaningless small talk. It was as if every girl he met virtually was way too shallow and way below his intellect: He couldn't find a common ground to talk about that didn't seem pointless to him.

Luka on the other hand had a quite different problem. Luka was gay, a fact that took Troy a few weeks to notice. He actually had guys over quite often and was, judging from the noises, sexually active with them as well. Here, too, Luka was very considerate not to disturb Troy too much, so Troy didn't mind at all. However, in time, Troy noticed that the guys visiting Luka were rarely the same twice in a row.

Troy suspected that Luka was enjoying his single life and thought nothing of it, but after a while even the socially awkward Troy picked up on the bad mood that seemed to befall his roommate every time one of his partners left. So, just as Luka said goodbye to a muscular Black man one evening, Troy actually asked him:

"Is everything alright, Luka?"

Luka closed the door behind his date and looked at his roommate. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

Troy fiddled a bit with his glasses. He was not very good at talking to other people, especially not when it came to delicate matters.

"I just noticed that you do seem to be... going through boyfriends rather quickly."

"Boyfriends? Oh, none of them was my boyfriend."

Troy didn't know what to answer to that. He had thought the men coming and going were Luka's dates, but apparently not.

Luka sighed and sat down on the couch.

"I didn't get to the 'boyfriends' stage with any of them, you know?" Luka sounded genuinely disappointed or sad.

Troy looked for a way to escape the awkward situation, and probably Luka wouldn't even have minded being left alone. But since he brought up the topic, Troy felt compelled to offer some comfort.

So, he, too sat down on the couch and hesitated a bit before asking: "You didn't? I thought that you, you know, slept with some of them."

"Yeah, I did. With all of them, actually." Luka confirmed. He didn't sound too happy or proud though as he continued: "Getting into a guy's pants isn't very difficult. Getting into their hearts however..." his voice trailed off.

"What's the problem?" Troy asked, genuinely interested. He didn't know the differences between gay and straight people were so significant. Casual sex with a woman seemed impossible to achieve, at least to Troy. Yet Luka described it as if that was easy for gay guys.

Luka sighed. "Good question. Apparently, I'm no boyfriend material. Or the number of guys looking for something serious are rarer than I thought. Whatever the reason, I haven't had a relationship in almost three years now. It's kind of frustrating."

Troy nodded. "Yes, I know the feeling. Dating isn't easy for me either. I guess I'm just too shy. Fact is: I've never had a girlfriend."

"No way! Really?" Now Luka was the one to be surprised. "But you are a nice guy. I bet the girls are lining up for you."

"Not that I noticed, they aren't."

There was a moment of silence between the two roommates before Troy laughed. "Seems like we are not that different after all."

After that, it was like the ice between the two of them was broken. Even though they were very different, Troy and Luka got along even better and talked more. For some reason, Troy even found Luka's situation worse than his own. Sure, Troy couldn't talk to girls, let alone date any, but Luka had his heart broken again and again.

So, Troy tried to help out Luka as best as he could. They even went to a gay club together, with Troy as Luka's wingman, but that plan didn't turn out very well. Even though Troy had a drink or two, he just couldn't muster up the courage to talk to the guys and Luka did the same thing. Eventually, both were just sitting together and observed the club and the people inside and everyone just assumed they were together.

Once they got back to their dorm room, neither of them was very happy.

"Sorry, that was probably a bad idea." Troy apologized. "I really thought you would meet someone interesting today."

"Don't worry about it. It was a good idea" Luka smiled. "I still had some fun today."

"No, it's really unfair!" Troy claimed. Perhaps it was the alcohol speaking but he was really unhappy with how Luka was being treated "You're such a great catch, and I just wish you would finally find a boyfriend! If you ask me, you're totally boyfriend material! If I was gay, I'd date you in an instant!"

Luka had to laugh. "That's sweet, but don't be silly. If you were gay, I'm sure you would have a partner. And even if you wouldn't, you're a great guy, but I'm not sure you were my type."

"What's your type then?" Troy asked curiously. They had actually never spoken about that before.

"Well, perhaps it's part of why it's so difficult for me to find a man. I've got these very specific wishes about a guy I would like to date..." Luka began.

"Come on, tell me more." Troy pressed. "If I'm going to be a great wingman, I need to know."

Luka hesitated, but eventually, he began: "It's hard to explain, you know. But for me, there's nothing sexier than a man who is strong, muscular, confident and, well, a bit on the easy side."

"Easy as in stupid or easy as in easy to have?" Troy asked.

"Both, actually. I would love a boyfriend who is a lot dumber than I am - and pretty slutty, too. A real himbo if you catch my drift."

"Haha, yes, you're right. That's exactly me." Troy said. Actually, he wanted to say "That's *not* exactly me", but for some reason, it came out wrong entirely.

Before he could correct himself, though, he felt a strange tingling sensation all over his body. What the hell?

"I'm telling you, that's what I like." Luka explained further, completely oblivious to what was happening to Troy.

"Oh, really? That's good, I guess." Troy's voice sounded different, and it was getting harder and harder for him to concentrate. His body was changing, and so was his brain, but he couldn't understand what was going on.

"You know, you really helped me out a lot the last few months." Luka said. "I feel much better and happier after talking to you and..."

Luka's voice faded away as he looked at Troy. The man's face was changing, and he grew larger.

"Are... are you okay?"

Troy opened his eyes. "I don't know. I feel weird. Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

Luka took a step back. His roommate was growing, his arms and legs were getting thicker and bigger, and his chest was expanding. He was already filling out his clothes and the fabric was ripping. His shoulders became broader and the arms wider, and soon, Troy's glasses fell down as his face widened and his jaw became more prominent.

All the while his mind became foggier, and his knowledge and smarts quickly drained away. Why was he wearing a shirt that was clearly too small for him? Why was he wearing a shirt at all? Shirts were for wimps, and Troy was a man's man!

So, Troy wiggled out of his shirt before it became to constricting. Exposing his upper body was way better anyway - that way everyone could have a good look at his guns and his sculpted shaved chest.

While the now half naked man kept on transforming, his roommate was almost paralyzed.

"What... what is happening here?" Luka asked.

Troy laughed, his voice sounding deeper and rumbling. "I don't know, but this feels amazing. And it looks like you are enjoying the show, too!"

Luka looked down and noticed he was sporting a massive erection. He was completely transfixed by the display of masculinity his roommate was performing for him.

He didn't notice the pants Troy was wearing were ripped at the seams and quickly fell apart as his thighs were becoming bigger and bigger. However, when he looked back up again, he was looking eye level at a filled to the brim blue underwear. The dick hidden behind it must have been massive - and it was not even hard!

Luka gulped as he saw that the last part was slowly changing, and the strained blue fabric tented visibly, with a wet patch forming on it. He could only barely bring himself to stop staring at the hypnotizing bulge and up the masculine body of his roommate up to his face.

There was really nothing left of the old Troy. Here stood a confident and strong men - with a dumb smile on his face and eyes that didn't show too many signs of intelligence. A total himbo.

Troy grabbed his underwear and ripped it apart with a swift move. The now exposed and hardening cock was obscene, and Luka gasped when he saw it. He couldn't believe how big and thick the member was, and his own penis was throbbing in his pants.

"Here is what we're going to do, stud." Troy said seductively. "We're gonna fuck. All through the night. And then, I'm taking you out for breakfast, 'cause we're dating."

Also check out this blog!

[duskwoodgirl4life]

Chapter 12

Jake and MC arrive back home and immediately are met by a very angry Jessy waiting at their door. "Where the hell have you two been? I've been trying to reach you for the past 5 hours" MC lets go of Jake's hand and walks towards her best friend "I'm sorry Jessy, me and Jake we're unavailable but we are back now." Jessy looks on in confusion, not buying where they have been. "What do you mean unavailable? Where have you been? MC and Jake looked at each other then back at Jessy. "Look Jessy you are my best friend Jake and I just went away for a few days that's it. I just needed to be alone with him. I'll text you tomorrow okay"Jessy's face went from confusion to anger. "Fine be like that, talk to you tomorrow" Jessy walked away leaving MC and Jake alone together. "I know she's my best friend but why does she always have to know every single detail of our lives"

MC sat down on the sofa Jake came over and sat down next to her "her heart is in the right place she just worries about you that all" Jake pulled MC into his arms holding her close "I guess you're right I'll talk to her tomorrow" Jake placed soft kisses on MCs head rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "Come on let's go unpack and we can order dinner" they both got up off the sofa and went to unpack their clothes. After they finished Jake ordered dinner while MC took a shower "I feel loads better now" MC walked over to Jake and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Mmm you smell amazing" Jake wrapped his arms around MC placing soft kisses on her lips.

As Jake was kissing MCs neck he was disturbed by a knock at the door MC giggled as she went to answer the door. Taking the takeout food from the delivery driver she thanked him and closed the door. "Foods here Jake, can you grab the plates?" MC went into the kitchen and Jake helped put the food onto the plates. "Mmm this smells amazing I love Chinese" with a smile on her face MC went to sit down shortly followed by Jake.

The next morning MC woke to an empty bed she got up and went in search of Jake, she checked the office and he was sitting at his desk working on something. "Hey there you are everything okay?" Jake turned around a little bit startled. "Oh hey MC, sorry I was busy working on something, everything okay?" Jake reached his hand out and guided MC onto his lap. "What have you been working on?" MC snuggled onto Jake's lap taking in his warmth. "I've been working on this it's a business plan to open up our own business I figured we could open a little shop I've been working on my own spyware program and I could help fix their computers "

MC turned to face Jake with a smile on her face "you really have been busy haven't you I think it's a fantastic idea" Jake kissed MC on the nose and gave her a hug. "I've still got a long way to go yet but it's a working progress, have you spoken to Jessy yet?" MC looked down not wanting to answer. "No not yet I guess I should text her I'm not telling her about the shooting tho" Jake looked into MCs eyes he could see so much worry in her eyes. "You know I don't mind if you tell her she is your best friend she would want to know" MC tried to get off Jake's lap to avoid the question but Jake held onto her. "I guess you're right I'll go text her and ask her to come over for coffee"

MC jumped down from Jake's lap and went to grab her phone from the bedroom, she flopped back down on the bed and opened up the message app.

MC: Morning Jessy, sorry about yesterday do you want to come round for coffee?

Jessy: morning MC, sure I'd love to I've missed you

MC: I've missed you too Jessy, see you in an hour?

Jessy: sure, I'll bring round some of Cleo's muffins she's just dropped a load off

MC: that's great, see you soon

MC put her phone down and went to get changed and freshen up she put her head round the office Jake was still working hard. "Babe? Jessy's on her way over. Do you want to join us?" Jake looked up from his desk "of course I'll join you" MC went to make the coffee as there was a knock at the door Jake shouted that he would answer while MC was busy in the kitchen. "Hi Jessy it's good to see you" Jake stood to one side allowing Jessy to come in. "Hi Jake, so good to see you" Jessy gave Jake a hug and walked into the apartment. "Jessy!" MC rushed over to Jessy and embraced her in a massive hug. "It's so good to see you Jessy I've missed you" Jessy pulled back looking at MC with a smile on her face.

"I've missed you MC, what's been going on? I know there is something" Jake walked over to where MC and Jessy were sitting and took MCs hand in his. "We have something to tell you Jessy, Jake and I got married" a shocked expression took to jessy's face she couldn't believe it. "You got married? Why didn't you tell me? We could have planned something for you both" Jake squeezed MCs hand letting her know he was there for her. "Jessy, MC didn't want to tell anyone after something happened to me she didn't want to waste anymore time. So we went to vegas and got married" still with a confused look on her face she looked at them both. "What do you mean something happened to you? What haven't you told me"

MC took a deep breath and explained everything to Jessy. There was shouting, tears and hugs. It had been a long emotional day for them. "Thank you for telling me everything, please if anything ever happens let me know you know I'm always here for both of you" MC reached for Jake's hand holding it tight. "We will Jessy" MC gave Jessy another hug and showed Jessy out. MC closed the door and sank down to the floor. "Don't worry MC everything will be okay it's good that Jessy knows everything" Jake reached his hand out and helped MC get up from the floor. "I know you're right, I just can't face everyone else" Jake put his arms around MC holding her close to his chest. "Don't worry about everyone else, what they think doesn't matter. This is our lives not theirs" MC pulled back slightly and smiled looking into Jake's eyes.

"How did I get so lucky to have you in my life Jake you are perfect" Jake let out a chuckle kissing MC on the forehead. "I love you MC, you want to come help me with this business plan?" MC leaned into Jake and gave him a big hug. "I love you Jake, sure I'd love to come on let's get it finished" they both went into the office and worked on the plan for the rest of the day.

A couple of weeks past Jake and MC had worked everything out with the business plan and we're out looking at empty shops to buy. After looking at several shops they found the perfect one for their business. They signed all the paperwork and started on the renovations. They had a date for the workmen to start and had worked out how they wanted the shop. Back home Jake was sitting at his computer with MC by his side. "I want a baby" Jake stopped what he was doing and looked up at MC with a shocked expression. "Erm, i-i what? Where did that come from" MC looked away from Jake as she tried to find the words. "I've been trying to work out how to bring the subject up so I just came out with it" Jake took hold of MCs hand and gave it a light squeeze and smiled. "I've heard it's a lot of fun making one"

MC looked up at Jake with a big grin on her, grabbed Jake's hand and went into the bedroom. The next morning Jake was woken by a buzzing noise coming from his phone he turned over to see what the noise was. "What's that noise?" Jake reached for his phone and saw his alarm going off. "It's my alarm, it's time to get it, " MC moaned, pulling the cover over her head. "What time is it?" MC lifted the covers slightly. "It's 8am I've got the workmen starting today I need to be there" MC didn't respond she just pulled the cover over her head not wanting to get up.

A few hours later MC dragged herself out of bed and went to shower and change, Jake had already gone to the shop. Once MC was ready she made her way over to the shop. Jake was standing outside talking to one of the workmen. "Hey babe, everything okay?" MC wrapped her arm around Jake's waist kissing him on the cheek. "Hi MC, things are going really well, the shop will be ready in a couple of weeks" Jake's eyes gleamed with happiness. "Have you decided on a name for the shop yet?" Jake pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to MC. "I filed for the name this morning out shop it's going to be called "All Things Tec"

6 months had passed and the shop was up and running business. Jake had never been so busy before everyone was loving the new system he had created. MC had been helping Jake in the shop things had never been better for them. "How are you doing?" Jake walked towards MC kissing her forehead "I'm doing okay got two people coming in later for a laptop repair. Jake smiled and rubbed his hand over MC's belly. "And how is the little jelly bean?" MC smiled and put her hand on Jake's. "The jelly bean is doing great" they both shared a kiss with so much love in their eyes for each other.

The end.

[eunkimmie]

hi! I really liked your sal friends with benefits headcannons and I was wondering if you could do one for larry? :)

larry didn’t think of sex as something that was sacred or that had to be cherished, he just thought of it as a desire. if two people wanted to fuck, so be it. larry thought of himself as a relatively emotional person, even if he didn’t show it all the time. he also knew he wasn’t the worst looking guy out there, he definitely fit into a “type” though. with the long hair occasionally pulled up into a messy bun, the oversized and overworn shirts, loose fitting pants that pooled around his beat up converse with doodles all on the fabric. his tanned skin was even, save for a few patches of acne and some body hair. point is, larry was an attractive guy.

now, there weren’t a whole lot of people in Nockfell that were falling on their knees for him, especially since they knew him as a weird kid in high school, but y’know. tinder was a thing. sometimes he just wanted to chat, or sometimes he did use the app for hookups.

wasn’t much, really. he’d bring someone to his shared house, fuck, then he’d let them choose whether they wanted to stay or leave for the night. maybe if he took a shine to them, offer some weed and cook some shitty eggs for them in the morning.

one day, he matched with you. cute, interesting. and by the way you chatted with him, you didn’t seem too interested in a relationship at the moment either. he invited you over after talking for a day or two, and that was that. you stayed the night, waking to an offer of coffee, maybe some cereal? you agreed, and the two of you sat downstairs laughing. larry was an easy guy to chat with, and almost everyone found that they got comfortable with him and his laid-back nature relatively quickly.

“and what kind of move was that?” you snickered, moving the spoon around in your cereal bowl idly. “i mean, if you’re gonna throw someone on your bed, at least make sure you aim correctly.” he tilted his head back as he let out a boisterous laugh, fist slamming down on the table. “fuck, don’t bring that shit up! sorry for being eager.” the two of you joked like that before you decided it was well time to go home.

after that, larry gradually stopped hooking up with random strangers, and instead turning to you. the both of you were well aware of the relationship and had no issue. but, eventually, the two of you learned that, hey, you actually had some common interests. after a session, you say up in his bed and tried to fix your hair to the best of your abilities after being fucked senseless. “you have a switch?”

“is that a sex question?” he asked, and received a pillow to the chest. “yes, you wanna play something?” you shrugged, pulling a shirt over your chest. he rattled off some names of the co-op games he had, and the two of you had settled on mario kart, cliche as it may be. and of course you beat ass. larry wasn’t a sore loser, instead offering you a lazy smile every time you told him to “eat shit you fucking second place”

larry didn’t question it much, but eventually the two of you became friends. it was bound to happen, your chemistry was more than just sexual, and he was sure that if the two of you had met in person before tinder, you would’ve been friends as well. was it so bad that his fuck-buddy was coming over midday now to play games or watch movies? larry decided that it may be better not to question it. besides, the two of you had a good dynamic going here.

but here’s the thing—when two people spend that much time together in the day and are having sex at night, at least one of them is bound to grow feelings. larry would run his calloused hands up your waist, grasping for as much of you as he could get as his mouth placed sporadic kisses all down your neck. the way your voice sounded as you let out small whimpers made his heart beat faster and faster, but the best noise was when he was fucking you at such a fast pace that had your hands gripping tightly at the sheets, before suddenly he’d stop. he’d watch as you cried out and desperately tried to create some movement between the two of you, and larry would tilt your chin up and give you a lingering kiss, staring down at your tear-filled eyes before he’d finally move again.

every time you two had sex, he would pour all of his affection and feeling into it. he didn’t want to fuck up your friendship, so instead all of his pent up emotion would turn into multiple rounds of sex, sometimes rough, sometimes passionate. he didn’t think he would ever confess, he knew he couldn’t. it would be best to just ignore it, right? right.

so, he never did. he never uttered a word to anyone, not even his friends, about the feelings he harbored for you. and when he asked if you wanted to stay the night, his heart would leap as you nodded and cuddled up to him in bed. and how he felt such a surge of disappointment rush through him when you decided it was time to get going, and left. he fantasized about grabbing you by the arm, stopping you from leaving, and proclaiming that he did have feelings for you, that you were so much more than just a person to hookup with at night. that he wanted a real relationship with you, that he wanted you to stay with him and wake up to him every day, and how much it killed him to open his eyes first thing in the morning and not see your face, and that…

fuck. was he in love with you? was it more than just a crush? it didn’t matter, you didn’t want a relationship, and that was that. larry wasn’t going to push your boundaries, it wasn’t your fault that he had to go and develop feelings for someone he was just supposed to be having sex with. he was in love with you, and the thought made him embarrassed. he’d stay up at night thinking about how quick you’d be to reject him if he ever did confess. the thought of you reciprocating his feelings wasn’t even a possibility in his mind.

you bit your lip as you knocked on the front door to his house. it was strange. you were always attracted to him, of course, but lately you’d been having…thoughts. you spent so much time in his house, his room, that an image of you staying there, with him, had briefly crossed your mind the other night. how would it feel to wake up in his arms every day as the sun peeked through the curtains? to be able to walk over to your shared closet before tossing on some clothes and walking to the kitchen and make breakfast for him? you wondered if he’d help, if maybe he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before kissing you softly. “the eggs might burn,” you’d say, but he would turn the burner off and kiss you anyways. how he’d lift you up on the counter and run his hands gently down your sides and plant soft kisses to your lips.

your fantasy stopped right there as he opened up the door, greeting you with a lazy smile. his hair was up this night, small strands falling from the bun he had loosely tied together. and then, the two of you were in his room. but it felt different somehow. maybe it was your imagination.

he closed the door behind him, pressing you up against the wood after it locked with a small click. his hands worked your shirt, pulling it off before tossing it aside. he ran his hand down the side of your thigh, your legs wrapped around him as he supported your body with ease. your hands had cupped his cheeks as you kissed him, his breath shaky as he pulled back for air for only a second.

you didn’t go home that night. you stayed, waking up to larry’s arms draped lazily over your body as your back curved against his chest like a perfect puzzle piece. you turned over, slowly as possible as to make little movement. now, you were face to face with him, his eyes still closed and lips parted slightly. you sighed, pushing a few strands of hair from his face and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. you mumbled out a strained, “fuck,” before you decided that maybe it was better to go back to sleep.

he acted like he was asleep. cheap move, he knew that, but when he felt your fingers softly brush his hair aside, his heart practically jumped out of his chest. he laid there as you kissed him once, and he swore that if you put a hand to his chest you would be able to feel just how fast his heartbeat was going.

for weeks, the two of you unconsciously pined over one another, both of you too afraid to say anything. you continued as you were, meeting up for either video games or sex.

his room was dark, dimly illuminated by his LED lights, your body reflecting a slight sheen of blue as the lights hit your skin perfectly. his hands grasped at your hips, his back against the wall behind his bed as you bounced yourself up and down on his cock, face to face. he supported your movements with his hands on your hips, eyebrows furrowed. you were so fucking tight around him, and your bodies seemed to come together perfectly, like it was meant to be. the way your lips were parted as you moaned his name, and how you almost screamed when he met your movement by thrusting upwards, and how he had to cover your mouth with his hand as to not disturb his roommates. he had moved you to lay on your back now, his body hovering above yours as he fucked you into his mattress. your hands intertwined above your head, and you could fe that all familiar feeling of a bubble about to burst in your stomach.

“f-fuck..fuck! im so, i’m so fucking—“ your sentences weren’t even coherent as he fucked you rhythmically. your back arched, letting him hit an even deeper spot inside of you that made you cry out his name. you removed your hand from his, moving up to cup his cheeks as you stared into his eyes. “fuck..don’t stop. please, don’t stop.”

“fuck…” larry groaned back. he was close, and the way you looked at him as if he was the only thing that mattered right then and there just drew him closer. it was all too much. the way you cried out his name and pulled him into kiss you. it just came out. he mumbled, “fuck…i love you,” and the way immediately after that you pulled him in for another kiss sent him over the edge. you could feel his cum drip out as he pulled himself out of you. you laid on his bed, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. he uttered that he was going to get you a towel to clean up with after he pulled on some sweatpants.

as you laid there, now partially clothed but still sweaty, you thought about it. you thought about what he had said to you, and how the words alone were enough to make you come undone. your face burned as you thought about it.

larry could really just kill himself. he was so fucking stupid. he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, fist clenched so tightly that his skin turned paler. he was going to act as if it never happened. it was for the best. it was always for the best.

as the two of you laid in his bed, you couldn’t help but think. and in an impulse, you blurted out, “do you really love me?” as soon as the words had left your mouth, your face heated up with embarrassment. you had meant to phrase it more carefully, but the sound of his voice kept repeating that same line in your head.

larry recoiled, barely visible, as he stayed silent. what was he supposed to say? he couldn’t even act cool in the moment as his mind scrambled for words, any words, to come to mind. “uh…” he said, gulping. he could feel his hands getting clammy. “you can, uh…you don’t have to feel obligated to stay if you’re uncomfortable. i don’t want you to feel like you have to pity me.” that came out a bit self deprecating, but he meant it. he was the one who had fucked it up. he was the one that couldn’t even keep his words to himself.

as you processed his sentence, you furrowed your eyebrows. you had been seeing larry for a few months now, was it? the time you spent together, you felt it had become more than just sex. you guys built a friendship, a bond. maybe it was soon, but life didn’t wait for anyone. “no, fuck..! no, i don’t want to leave, i just…” you paused, thinking about it for a moment more. “i think that i might, um. i don’t know, i can’t really think straight right now, i just…i know i have feelings for you.” and you left it at that. you didn’t know if you loved him yet, but you were sure of yourself.

larry’s brain stopped working for a split second in that moment. he took time to replay your words in his head, but only for a second, because before he knew it he was rambling. “wait, seriously? like, actually? you don’t have to say anything to try and make me feel better, know that. i don’t want to try and—“ you cut him off by shaking your head. “no, no! im not just saying this shit, seriously. im really sure of it, actually.” you laughed softly, half heartedly. it was hard to make eye contact.

larry let out an incredulous laugh as you smiled at him nervously. maybe this moment should’ve been more serious, but all he could think in that moment is that he felt happy. truly, genuinely happy. “let me take you out on a date,” he said, to which you responded with a bright smile and a nod. he couldn’t help but laugh again at the situation, and how unorthodox it all felt. he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

the two of you had stayed up late talking. just talking about life, about feelings and emotions. you two didn’t wake until late noon, but waking up to see your face snuggled into his chest was just about the biggest surge of serotonin that larry could’ve received.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Six

CW: NSFW, language

Part Five//Part Seven//Masterlist//2634 words

Aelin chuckled. “I hate you.”

Rowan grinned, playfully squeezing her ass. “I hate you more.”

“I can’t even wrap my mind around it, though. You like the Wendlyn Eagles. It’s just incomprehensible.”

Rowan smirked. “You’re far too dramatic for your own good.”

“Someone has to be. The rest of the world is filled with some boring ass people, I tell you, Rowan.”

He laughed. “Having met with Chaol Westfall, I can agree with you there.”

A snort that was far from womanly left Aelin’s mouth. “I still can’t believe you had to work on that project with him all day. I felt so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan protested. “You were laughing every time I looked at you.”

“I can’t deny that.”

They both laughed. But the humor slowly dissolved as Rowan trailed his hand along Aelin’s side. The light touch turned greedy as Aelin leaned into him, aching for a rougher touch.

His hand reached for her breast and squeezed. Aelin scooted closer and reached her hand down below the sheets.

Rowan had her hand in his grasp in an instant. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

“I wish you’d stop saying that,” Aelin muttered.

Rowan smirked. “But you need to learn it.”

“Training me to be a good girl for you, hmm?” Aelin scooted closer, the legs that had been casually intertwined now tangled against each other heatedly. “But don’t you want me to make you feel good?” She gave her best puppy dog eyes.

Rowan leaned in and nipped her lower lip. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please let me touch you,” Aelin rasped, fluttering her eyelashes.

Rowan gave her throat a quick squeeze, Aelin letting out a noise of content as he choked her. Then he let go off her entirely, and Aelin moved her hand farther under the sheet.

Rowan’s cock was half-hard when Aelin wrapped her slender fingers around it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Aelin started pumping her hand. She was thoroughly enjoying the small grunt that left his lips as he tried to hold back a groan.

Rowan thrust his hips into Aelin’s hand. She trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck as she pumped her hand. His cock hardened in her grip, and Aelin felt heat start to build between her legs.

Just when Aelin twisted her wrist and drew a growl out Rowan, he stopped her by flipping their bodies, pinning Aelin underneath him. He didn’t enjoy being the one squirming at someone else’s touch.

“Rowan,” she pleaded. He moved her arms, pinning her wrists over her head with one hand, and brought the other down between her legs. But Rowan only parted her folds with a finger, stroking gently. Aelin bucked her hips, but he only withdrew his hand.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”

Rowan chuckled against her skin, licking a stripe up her neck and readjusting his hips so that Aelin was even more trapped under his body.

He slipped his finger inside her entrance, then pulled it back out immediately. “Beg me. Beg me to fuck you.” He roughly fingered her clit, then pulled his hand away entirely.

Aelin complied. Please was the only word in her vocabulary as she whimpered for Rowan to make her feel good. He finger-fucked her for a few minutes before he decided she was behaving well enough to come. Rowan pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing circles around the sensitive bud of flesh. It didn’t take much for Aelin to be overcome by a massive wave of pleasure.

And when he fucked her, when he flicked her clit as he slammed into her, she came, not even close to satisfied. He didn’t stop moving not just until he came as well, but until she had a third orgasm. When he finally let up, Aelin dropped into a deep slumber, exhausted from his attentions.

—

They were back in the bar. Aelin was talking to a man, a man with silver hair and pine-green eyes. She didn’t know his name, but she wanted to.

“I’m new in town,” he said to her, but Aelin wasn’t concerned with the hazy lust clouding his eyes or the way his gaze dropped to her cleavage. She was thinking about how nice he was, how smart and kind and funny. She didn’t want to drag him in the bathroom, she wanted to tell him that she lo—

An obnoxious beeping filled the room, filled Aelin’s head, turned the man into a blur. Aelin snapped awake, scrambling into a sitting position. Her alarm was going off.

She glanced over at Rowan, drowsily rubbing his eyes beside her, still lying down. “You okay, baby?”

Aelin let out a long exhale, trying to recall what her dream had been about. Rowan, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, assessing the sincerity of her statement, then nodded and said, “We should get up. Work’s in an hour.”

Aelin steadied her breathing—what had her dream been?—and expressed her agreement. They climbed out of bed and headed around the house: eating, making coffee, brushing teeth, showering. It had been three months since they’d become friends with benefits, and they had toothbrushes and extra clothing at each other’s homes. It made things much more convenient, not having to wait until the weekend to hook up.

Aelin headed out a few minutes before Rowan, both because arriving at the same time could be suspicious if anyone noticed, and because she had no reason to wait for him. She called a farewell, knowing he had a key to lock her door with. Again, for convenience purposes.

Despite that and the fact that they cuddled often after sex, naked and talking about football teams, their relationship really wasn’t abnormal. They had just become good friends.

Aedion headed into her office only moments after Aelin herself arrived. He looked at her, frowned, and said, “You have a hickey.”

Aelin refused to blush, cursing herself for not even bothering to look in the mirror other than for a quick hair brush and some light lipstick. She merely leaned back in her chair, threaded her fingers in front of her on the desk, and said, “We have an issue with the camera in the main elevator.”

Aedion sighed and took a seat. “We’ll have it fixed by lunchtime. Still playing with your boy toy?”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Aedion.”

He snorted. “Me? You’re the one—”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Aelin interrupted. “Especially not here. Go fix the camera.” She tended to be relatively kind to her employees, and merely icy to the ones who pissed her off, but having grown up with Aedion, she tended to have a shorter temper when he was around.

A huff was all she got in reply before Aedion stood. He left, shutting the door gently—they had a silent agreement not to let their petty arguments disturb anyone else—and leaving Aelin alone. She pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera app, then took a look at her neck.

There was a dark bruise on the side, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief. That would be easy to cover with her hair, unable to do anything less temporary during work. She pulled her blonde locks over that side and made a mental note to keep them there. Good thing she hadn’t passed many people on the way in.

Then she thought back to what had went down when Aedion had first walked in on her and Rowan, oh so long ago.

—

“What the fuck are you doing, Aelin?”

Aelin tensed. This wasn’t going to be fun.

She glanced over at Rowan, who looked part defensive and part confused. He probably didn’t realize Aedion was her cousin, though he might recognize him vaguely from work.

“You can go, Rowan. I’ll take care of this.”

He hesitated, looking back and forth between the pair. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can handle him.”

Aedion snorted at that, but Aelin didn’t dignify him with a glance.

“Okay, but I…” Rowan trailed off.

Right. Aelin was still wearing his shirt.

“Um”—Aelin sent Aedion a smile—“We’ll be right back.” He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and he flashed a saccharine grin.

Mentally dying from embarrassment, Aelin grabbed Rowan’s wrist and dragged him down the hallway. Not bothering to say anything to him, she yanked off his shirt, tossed it to him, and opened her drawer.

“So that was… a friend?”

Aelin yanked on some underwear and sweats. She looked in a different drawer for a t-shirt. “My cousin. Aedion. He works security.”

“Ah.” What was different about Rowan’s tone after she said that? What was he thinking?

Aelin turned back around, fully dressed now. Rowan’s gaze was fixed on the wall, rather than watching her as she dressed. Apparently all desire had disappeared, replaced by awkwardness.

“He won’t tell anyone.” Rowan’s eyes snapped to Aelin. “He’s very protective of me, but as annoyed as he’ll undoubtedly be, he won’t say anything.”

Rowan nodded. “Good.”

They didn’t say anything more. Aelin nodded. Rowan nodded, too.

“Well,” Aelin said finally. “See you at work on Monday.”

Rowan laughed lightly. “Yeah, see you.”

They left the bedroom and Rowan walked ahead of Aelin to the door. He gave a tight nod to Aedion, who didn’t return the gesture. Aelin sighed.

Once Rowan was out the door, Aelin smiled brightly. “Take a seat.”

“I’m good here.”

She ignored his tone and plumped onto the couch. “Want anything to eat?”

“What are you doing?”

“That’s none of your business, Aed.”

He frowned. “He works for you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Aelin snapped.

Aedion pushed off the wall and stalked forward, dropping on the couch next to her. “You’re his boss. He’s probably just trying to get a promotion.”

A scowl crossed Aelin’s features. “You don’t even have any idea what this is,” she hissed.

“Then enlighten me, please.” Aedion’s growing temper matched her own. “Do you love him?”

Aelin scoffed. “Of course not. I just met the man a few weeks ago. Besides, that would be inappropriate.”

“That would be inappropriate,” Aedion repeated incredulously. “And this fucking isn’t?”

She huffed. “Rowan is well aware that this won’t be affecting his career at all, positively or negatively. It stays out of work, okay? There’s no reason to be pestering me about it.”

“It’s wrong, Aelin.”

“It is gods-damn not,” she snapped. “I am an adult, and he is an adult, and if we want to fuck, we will fuck. There’s your laptop. Take it and leave.”

Aedion did no such thing. “You know I only care about you.”

“If you care about me, you will mind your own business.”

Aedion sighed and stood up. “I’ll talk you on Monday. Lunch, remember?”

Aelin wanted to yell at him, her stubborn demeanor making it difficult to lose her anger, but if he was taking the steps to end this argument, she could do the same. “Fine. See you Monday.” Her voice was only slightly less sharp, but the words were enough. Aedion smiled in acknowledgment and left.

—

So much had changed since then, but Aedion’s attitude toward the pair’s out-of-work activities was not one of them. He glared at Rowan whenever they were in the same room, trying to find something to fault him for, but there never was anything. During their time in the office, Rowan remained respectful and kind, exactly as she’d requested of him all those days ago. He truly was a good man.

Drawing her thoughts away from Rowan, Aelin reached for a pen and got to work.

It was an hour later that Rowan joined her, starting on their major workload for the planning of their newest fundraising activity, as well as the arduous task of budgeting. Having such an involved roll in many of Aelin’s largest tasks, she had a small table designated for him against the wall, if ever they needed more space. Other thank that, he just used the opposite side of Aelin’s own desk.

Neither of them mentioned this morning, as was usual.

It may have been Aelin’s overactive imagination, but Rowan seemed distant today. Distracted about something or other. He brushed her off when Aelin asked if he was okay, and she let him have some space after that.

By the time the end of the workday rolled around, Aelin was exhausted. It was Friday, which meant she’d just spent the past five days pouring her sweat and blood into each project and task. She did work on the weekends, but the little loads she did at home could hardly compare to the stress of the week.

Aelin always worked later than everybody else; she wanted to get as much done as she could, and she made sure her workers, if not herself, had good hours. It was nearly seven-thirty when she filed away the last document.

When she came out of her office to find an empty floor, vacated entirely by Elide and all of the other staff, she was surprised. She wasn’t surprised that all of her workers were gone. That was entirely expected. She was surprised that Rowan was gone.

Not that he was supposed to be here; even though he worked a bit later some days, he usually left before her. But sometimes he waited up for her, in case she was in the mood. Well aware of the fact that they had fucked last night and they didn’t do it every day or anything, Aelin mentally shook herself for being concerned about Rowan’s absence. Still, some of the uneasiness remained.

Rowan had a pretty good position in the company, and as such, he had his own, albeit small, office. Aelin peered in just to be sure he was gone. Only a janitor, Arobynn, was in the office, and she waved at him. He gruffly nodded.

Trying not to reprimand herself out loud and look like a lunatic in front of the janitor, Aelin headed to the elevator. She was bothered that she was so caught up in Rowan that him not being there, even when it was entirely expected, made her lonely. It was just the sex she missed, of course.

Aelin impatiently tapped her pen against the handrail the whole elevator ride down, and when the doors finally opened, she hurried to her car, feeling she needed a nap. And maybe a whiskey.

—

The weekend passed in a blur. Aelin texted Rowan once, but he hadn’t responded. She hadn’t pestered him after that, knowing full well that he was allowed to have a life and she didn’t want to be desperate and annoy him into coming over. But she couldn’t deny the rapidly growing kernel of excitement resting in the pit of her stomach as Aelin headed to work on Monday.

“Hello, Elide,” Aelin called merrily, waving as she passed her.

Elide just sent a bemused smile to her friend.

Aelin marched toward her office, peering through the windows to find… a man that was not Rowan. Backpedaling because Aelin didn’t want to meet a client unprepared, she stepped away before he could see her. Then she made her way back to Elide.

“Who is that in my office?”

Elide frowned. “I sent you an email about it last night.”

“Last night? The last work I did was yesterday afternoon.”

Elide sighed, as if Aelin should have been checking her email all weekend long. She always had such high expectations. “That’s Nox Owens, the replacement.”

“Replacement for whom?” Aelin asked warily.

Elide blinked. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Who didn’t tell me what?” Aelin crossed her arms.

“We had to find a new coordinations director over the weekend. Mr. Whitethorn tendered his immediate resignation last Friday.”

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@pagemasters

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@theysayitscrazy

@yesdreamblog

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[katzkinder]

Little Boy Blue

Mahiru is tired.

Kuro can see it, in the way his folding isn’t as neat, in the way the vegetables in their dinner aren’t as uniformly chopped, in the way his head bobs during school lessons, his laughter isn’t as loud, how he doesn’t check half so well before he crosses the street and needs the ever watchful hand of Sakuya to drag him back from the curb, a shout on the subclass’s lips, scolding and fussing about the car that had just whizzed past their little group.

Mahiru is tired, but he refuses to rest.

And it’s driving Kuro mad.

It’s as Mahiru is jerked and prodded, worried and fussed over by his trio of school friends, that Kuro makes a decision.

His Eve will get some sleep, whether he wants to or not.

Thankfully for him, he knows Mahiru wants it. The frustrating part is that his stupid, incredible, wonderful human doesn’t think he’s earned it. Not yet. Not when there was still more to do.

Which meant, joy of joys… He needed some help.

Good thing he had three ready made volunteers right there with him on the curb.

Now to convince them.

***

The easiest part, by far, was getting them to go along with his plan. Slipping into Mahiru’s bag to use the cellphone Tooru had bought him (every time he thought about it, he still couldn’t believe it. His own phone, his own clothes, his own games, his own… Everything, really), he sent a single text to three different numbers.

Mahiru’s exhausted. Help me get him to chill out?

The hard part…

“Hey, Mahiru! It’s been a while since we all last had a sleepover, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it has…”

“Since we’re already going to be walking you home to make sure you don’t wander out into traffic…”

“It was an accident!”

“Party at Mahiru-sama’s place~!”

“Would you stop with that stupid… Fine! But Sakkun is paying for the food!”

… Wasn’t actually that hard? But, well. Leave it to the grungy joker to just… Steamroll his way into Mahiru’s place, invited or not. And become a steamed cabbage in the process.

The power of Mahiru-sama is frightening indeed…

***

The first order of business when the five of them arrive at Mahiru’s apartment is taken care of handily by, once again, Sakuya.

“Pizza time!” he crows, tapping the order into a website Kuro only vaguely recognizes the name of. It’s not a delivery app, but the website’s own page, and while he’s busy with that, Kuro hops out of Mahiru’s bag, ready to go fetch blankets and pillows from the linen closet in order to set them all up.

Except Mahiru’s two human friends beat him to it.

All the better, he thinks, as he hops up onto the couch to watch them spread things out right in front of the TV. The living room is small, the area they’ve chosen to occupy even more so, but it’s what he would have chosen for Mahiru, too, to cram them all together, to surround his Eve with the simple pressure and warmth of his loved ones crowded close.

Not for the first time, and certainly not the last, Kuro is so… Grateful for Mahiru’s friends. Before him, and even after him, they will love Mahiru like a brother, like a family, know him in ways he can’t, the same way Gear knows him in ways Mahiru never will.

And that’s fine. To be known is to be loved, and more than anyone, Mahiru deserves it.

“Mahiru, can you help Ryuu-chan? I’m gonna go make sure Sakuya doesn’t burn your kitchen down trying to make popcorn.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know, I’m always the one who makes the popcorn when Shamrock can’t!”

“And how much of it do you burn?”

“Less than you, so nyeh.”

… Maybe he should go watch them.

“Ah, Kuro, don’t get your fur on the counter!”

“Can’t deal…”

At the least, Mahiru seems to already be feeling better. It’s like magic. The best kind Kuro has ever seen.

***

Kuro spends the night as a cat, nestled in Mahiru’s lap or lying across his back, little paws kneading his Eve’s flesh and purring up a storm, extra sweet and extra soothing, while the other three pile around them. Mahiru is… Quiet. But not a bad quiet, no. A good quiet, letting the presence of the other people in their home wash over him, their bickering and their teasing, not a host but just a friend, just another kid, a kid with greasy fingers and a half drunk bottle of cola and two boxes of extra large pepperoni pizzas with cheesy bread set out before them.

“Where the heck do you find these pizza places I’ve never heard of?” Ryuusei asks after a particularly long cheese stretch has him craning his head back and holding his arms out, making the other three laugh, “This is great.”

“Vampire SNS,” Sakuya tells him proudly, and snickers once more at the tongue click it nets him.

Much to Kuro’s surprise, after building their little nest, the green haired vampire had graciously given up his preferred spot next to Mahiru without a word, instead settling himself shoulder to shoulder with the short one, Ryuusei, while he and Koyuki had pressed themselves up against Mahiru like they were trying to merge with him. It’s a tangle of arms and legs, like cats lying one on top of the other, physical closeness that speaks volumes of the emotional one they’ve cultivated with each other, and which they were slowly, Kuro felt, trying to ease him into.

It was a strange feeling. Being included.

But it wasn’t one he hated by any means.

Ryuusei flops his head against Mahiru’s arm, cheek squishing ridiculously as he squints at the screen. “Who picked this again?”

The crunching from Mahiru’s right stops, and a bowl of half eaten popcorn, buttery and with the perfect amount of salt, is nudged his Eve’s way. Wordlessly, Mahiru grabs up a big handful of it, stuffs it in his mouth with a knowing little smile, a sort of carelessness Kuro can never seem to invoke on his own.

The shuffling of fabric, and Koyuki leans onto Mahiru’s shoulder as well, the barest hint of a pout to his voice. “Does it matter? Even bad movies are fun when we’re together.”

“You’re cheesier than this pizza,” Sakuya teases, and Mahiru grins, laughs, finally says something, the exhaustion all but gone from his voice.

“That means Koyuki definitely picked it.”

“So you’re the one responsible!” Ryuusei shouts, and Koyuki flicks popcorn at him, bounces it right off his head.

“Shut up! You can change it, y’know.”

“Well, we’re already this far in,” Mahiru muses, and Sakuya quietly plucks the floor tainted popcorn up to place on a napkin, “Might as well finish it.”

Kuro is… So glad that Mahiru has friends who can do this for him. To do the things he can’t. This sense of total normalcy, of being just another teenager… It’s not really something he can help with. Not really. He knows he’s the type to overthink, to become discouraged when his efforts don’t get immediate results.

But now Mahiru is laughing again.

It’s everything he could have asked for.

***

Hours upon hours later, the only light in the room is from the flickering TV screen, and the only sounds are the soft breaths of four teenage boys, fast asleep right there on the floor.

Kuro finally rouses himself, gets up, stretches, and carefully picks his way down Mahiru’s back. Only then does he allow himself to transform back into a human, cracking his neck, his back, and sighing heavily at the relief it grants his stiff joints.

It’s time to get to work. All that effort would be meaningless if Mahiru woke to a mess, so clean up crew Kuro shall be.

First go the soda bottles. Back into the fridge, without a label or a care for who had drunk from what, because it’s not like those four cared anyway, but Mahiru hated to waste food. Honestly, Kuro was in agreement on that much, but especially when it came to his favorites. So, twisting each cap tightly back into place, he made sure to set them up in plain sight so that they’d be finished in the morning (and if not by their owners, by him), blocking the light of the fridge with his own body and the tails of his coat so as not to disturb the quartet of friends.

Next were the pizza boxes. Each one was completely empty, but that was no surprise, given that there were two shared between the five of them. Even the little banana peppers included had been devoured. If Kuro had to guess… Mahiru. For some godforsaken reason, his Eve adored things that set his mouth on fire, and no amount of “it’s not that spicy!” would change Kuro’s opinion that Mahiru, sweet faced, stubborn, wonderful Mahiru, just wanted to see what the fires of hell tasted like.

(And maybe he was a bit of a baby when it came to peppers, but clearly that wasn’t his fault)

Onto the counters the pizza boxes went.

Next came the bowl of popcorn, filled with nothing but unpopped kernels, then the plates, then the napkins, then the painstaking process of picking up every infernal piece of popped corn that had been jokingly thrown about between friends with zero thought for who would have to clean it up all up.

Considering how many Sakuya had tossed, he had a feeling the other vampire had known Kuro would take it upon himself to tidy up their garbage, and found himself cracking an annoyed, if fond, smile.

Little brat.

Mess more or less taken care of, Kuro had one last task to complete, and fetching the fluffiest quilt he could find from the closet that hadn’t already been used to pad out the hard tile in front of their TV, he carefully, carefully, spread it out over the pile of sleeping boys. Not a one stirred, not even Mahiru.

His smile turned ever so slightly bitter.

Well, that was fine. That was good, even, because it meant that, more than he’d thought, Mahiru had needed this night, this little slice of being normal, of simplicity.

Looking at each face in turn… He thought that maybe, all of them had.

Himself included.

Tucking himself into the crook of Mahiru’s neck was easy, a warm, furry weight that had his Eve curling up even more, ever so slightly, setting off a chain reaction as each teenager also shifted, one or two murmuring in their sleep, shuffling closer to each other like small birds seeking safety and comfort during a storm.

And that was fine, too. Kuro would watch over their dreams, every one.

Sleep tight, guys. Sweet dreams...

[nanasparadise]

Can you do (aged up of course), Yandere Narancia x reader. [p.s can it include any of these prompts? “ Stop denying our love! Stop denying our future together!! ”, “ Please don’t cry. Show me the smile I love so much! ”, “ You can’t escape my love.”,” You will grow to love me back, I just know it!“] Thx so much <3

“You can’t escape my love”

“You will grow back to love me, I just know it.”

Hiya anon! I hope you enjoy it! <3 

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn’t understand the concept of boundaries and keeps harassing you, until he stands in front of your apartment’s door...

TW: cyber harassment, implied stalking, gaslighting, mentions of a panic attack, toxic relationship, noncon touching, curse words, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Narancia has been aged up, no minor content on my blog!

Word count: 2155

“No escape” Yan! Narancia x gender-neutral reader 

 Bling. Another one of… how many messages again? You have stopped counting a while ago. An exasperated sigh escapes your lips, wondering why you haven’t turned off the volume yet. Why is he so unrelenting? Annoyed, you take your phone in your hand, staring at the twenty-five texts Narancia has left for you. At first, they have started off innocently, asking you about your well-being and your day. But as time has passed, the messages have begun becoming more invasive and have ended up being straight-up creepy. 

“Why aren’t you answering me, did I do something wrong?” 

“Stop being so stubborn, I know you want to be with me, too!” 

“I’m always near you, you’re aware of that, right? You can’t escape my love.”

 An icy shudder travels down your spine while reading the last two sentences. Fear clenches around your heart, making your chest feel heavy, your breaths short and laboured. 

“’’Try out this dating app!’ they said, ‘It will be fun!’ I see where this fun has lead me to”, you think gloomily. Why on earth did you ever sign up to that damned app and had to match with Narancia? You curse yourself, curse your naivety for having expected to encounter there a nice and healthy relationship.

The only thing that has waited for you is an obsessive stalker you can’t get rid of. Of course you didn’t realise Narancia’s disturbing nature at the beginning. No, you thought of him as sweet and energetic, although a bit tiring. Your first dates were pleasant: you went to a fair, sharing candyfloss and laughter between you, to a restaurant, where the Italian nearly choked on his pasta out of excitement, to a spring picnic at the local park, bathing in the gentle sunlight. It all seemed so beautiful to you back then, so innocent. But quickly, things have changed. 

Narancia has become increasingly clingy to you until it started feeling as if he was glued onto your hip. Oh, you want to go grocery shopping? He’ll come with you and help you carry your bags! You’re planning on visiting your family on the weekend? He’ll join you, he has been dying to meet them anyway! 

Setting boundaries with him was extremely challenging. Every time you hinted that you’d rather like to spend some time alone, he nearly threw a fit, taking your words out of context and twisting them around. 

“So you want to toss me away? You don’t think I’m important to you?”, he shouted at you, tears of anger forming in his eyes. Back then, you didn’t notice his gaslighting methods, felt guilty for prioritising yourself. But now, you don’t want to hold yourself back anymore. There isn’t any reason for you to justify yourself, especially not to someone who clearly has no right to intervene in your life like this. Your gaze travels back to your phone. All these messages, these implications, are proof enough of his unhealthy attachment to you. Hell, he even admitted following you! No matter how much you enjoyed your time together, you can’t let Narancia continue with his creepy behaviour.

Quickly, you type a text, telling the Italian that if he goes on invading your privacy, you’ll block him. For a few minutes, sweet silence dominates your living room. 

“Maybe he finally got it”, you muse hopefully. 

Bling. There goes your hope. 

“Are you messing with me? Why would you write that?! Please, stop with these jokes, we can talk about this!” Another sigh comes out of your mouth. 

“No Narancia, we actually can’t. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell the whole time, but it seems you don’t understand. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna block you for now, otherwise I’ll go insane.” 

With these final words, you block his number. Relief washes over you as you realise that the Italian can’t harass you anymore. 

“It‘s kind of sad how things have turned out”, you mumble to yourself. Though you do feel some regret – after all, the two of you had shared many beautiful moments together – you abruptly stop your pondering. “No use to cry over spoiled milk, Y/N. If he keeps treating you like this, it’s best to get away from him.”

Little did you know that Narancia isn’t letting you go that easily. The following days, he kept reaching out to you towards multiple phone numbers. Every time you blocked it, a new one popped up. At this point, you’ve simply stopped using your phone altogether, only relying on the device if it’s inevitable. In those cases, you’re helplessly exposed to the unnerving messages of the young man. The latest one keeps haunting your mind, initiating your anxiety. 

“I’ve been really patient with you, Y/N, but this little game is making me lose my temper. I’ll be seeing you tonight and then we settle things straight. You will grow back to love me, we’ll make up again, I just know it.” 

Nervously, you eye the nearest clock in your flat. 8 p.m. What does Narancia consider ‘tonight’? Will he even come? Are you able to face him right now? 

“Oh god, I need to go”, you whisper desperately, nausea manifesting itself in your stomach. You could crash at your friend’s place, you’re sure they’d understand your situation. Quickly, you gather all your important belongings, ready to flee, as a loud knocking on your front door followed by an all too familiar voice interrupts your escape. 

“Hey Y/N, could you open the door for me, please?”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You mutter an incoherent string of curses. Petrified, you just keep staring at the door, not daring move a single muscle in your body. 

“If you don’t open the door yourself, I’ll just break it in, you know?”, Narancia shouts on the other side. The casualness of his tone scares you even more. 

“How can he just be so blasé by his behaviour? Doesn’t he notice how wrong his actions are?” Actually fearing the Italian might damage your property, you accept your defeat and slowly walk up to the front door. Hesitantly, with shaking hands, you unlock it and pull the handle down. Nervousness creeps up on you, making your palms grow sweaty and your heart palpitating erratically. Soon – too soon for your liking – you meet a pair of familiar purple eyes. To your surprise, Narancia smiles upon seeing your face. 

“Hi babe,” he greets you, carefree, “I’m so glad you opened the door for me! You have no clue how much I’ve missed you!” Without even waiting for you to invite him in – which you definitely wouldn’t have done – the young man marches into your flat, invading your privacy even further. Suddenly, two arms wrap around your middle and pull you close to the young man’s chest. Your breathing falters at the abrupt touch. “It’s alright, it’s only me, Y/N”, Narancia tries to comfort you. If only he knew that his presence currently gives you anything but comfort…

A few moments later, you find yourself sitting on your couch next to him. Narancia flashes you a seemingly reassuring grin all while you keep fiddling with the sleeves your shirt. You blankly stare at the floor in front of you. Even though Narancia’s behaviour is conveying sympathy, you couldn’t get rid of the intuitive feeling that this is all but a façade to lull you into a false sense of security. Who knows what he could do to you? Despite his overall sweet and fun nature, the young man doesn’t shy away from using violence if you test his – admittedly little – patience. His numerous messages flash up in your mind again. You’re painfully aware now how he made it clear that you’ve clearly missed your opportunities of being in his good graces. This realisation pushes you nearly over the edge, being on the brink of a panic attack. Would Narancia really hurt you? 

“Look Y/N,” the sound of his voice interrupts your train of thought. A little startled, you immediately straighten your back and glance at his form next to you. The young man’s hand finds its way to yours, stopping your fumbling by securely grasping it. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, but what’s wrong? Why did you just ignore me like that?”, Narancia asks you. You don’t miss the hint of annoyance in his voice, indicating his true feelings. Though anxiety still has a hold on you, you try your best to fight against it and tell him the truth. After all, it’s not like you could escape this situation anyway. So you take a deep breath in and out again, before you spill your following words. 

“Well, I know you’re more of a clingy person Narancia, but what you’re doing is unhealthy. You can’t expect me to give you my full attention all the time. And you definitely can’t follow me around! It’s just creepy and wrong. You know that’s considered stalking, right?”

The Italian stares back at you incredulously. You wonder what’s going on in his head right now. 

“You gave me no other choice, Y/N! How am I supposed to see if you’re doing alright if you deny me like this? You really think me worrying about you makes me some deranged criminal?”, Narancia barks angrily back at you. The grip on your hand tightens. Listening to your previous gut feeling, you immediately retrieve your hand from his all while scooting away from him to gain more space between you. The dark-haired man’s jaw visibly clenches at your action, disapproval glistening in his eyes. Of course he would use his gaslighting tactics on you, he always does when things don’t go his way. Cautiously, you think for a while of what to say, not wanting to trigger Narancia’s wrath any further. 

“It’s not the fact you worry about me, it’s the way you choose to show your concern. Narancia, it’s not okay what you’re doing, you’re actually making me feel very uncomfortable, even right now. Plus, you’re blaming me for your behaviour, which is, again, not acceptable”, You carefully reply, hoping to talk some sense into him.

He makes you uncomfortable? Narancia can’t comprehend your words at all. He’d been worrying himself sick the last few days, trying to reach out to you as best as possible while you cruelly kept on ignoring his countless messages. But he is supposed to be the bad guy now? The Italian scoffs intensely at that thought. He can feel the anger gnawing at his guts, ready to be released. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Narancia reprimands you, “can’t I show you anymore that I care? That I love you? Even after you’ve blocked and ignored me? What do you expect me to do now, to just let you go?” 

“Actually, I do,” you peep quietly, “I can’t continue with this madness. If you don’t want to understand and listen to me, then it’s best for you to go. Now.” Your voice grows stronger with every word you utter, finally regaining your confidence. Meanwhile, Narancia’s heart sinks to his stomach at your statement. Do you really want to leave him? 

“No, no no no Y/N, you don’t mean this, right? You wanna stay with me, don’t you?” 

“No, I really don’t think I do, not after you’ve shown me your true colours.” 

With a force you don’t expect, Narancia pulls you suddenly against his chest again. His arms cage you in, leaving no room for you to move at all. 

“This is just a misunderstanding,” the young man keeps repeating like a mantra while tightening his grasp as if you could dissipate into thin air if he didn’t cling onto you, “It’s normal for couples to fight from time to time, it’s fine. We’re fine, right? You wouldn’t abandon me for real, would you?” 

“Narancia, I –“ you try to intervene, but your attempts remain futile as he cuts you off quickly. 

“No, you’re not going to leave me! I’m not letting you. Look, this is but a silly fight, you’re not going to toss away our relationship for that, are you? Just remember all the beautiful moments we shared together, how happy I can make you, if you just let me!” Narancia nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. “I love you, Y/N.” He eagerly plants kisses onto your skin, making you shudder and whimper helplessly. Your eyes grow bigger, your breath quickens as you desperately look for a way to escape this situation, to escape him. 

“I love you more than anything in this world. I’d gladly give up everything if it meant to spend every second with you by my side. No one can love you like this but me. Remember that next time you’re thinking I’m going to let you off the hook”, Narancia whispers in your ear, the underlying threat being crystal clear to you. No, you aren’t going to escape from him any time soon…

[digitalstowaway]

No Winners: Chapter Three (Mia & Miles AU)

Read on AO3 | After failing to win a guilty verdict at his first trial, Edgeworth is denounced as von Karma's protege. Mia finds him, alone and traumatized, and decides that befriending him is like picking up a lost, wounded puppy on the side of the road. But it turns out they're connected in more ways than Terry Fawles' death. 

--

It was Friday afternoon by the time Lana knocked on Miles’ front door, holding a thermos of soup and smiling. 

Miles stood in his doorway, squinting at her. He wore his pajamas still—a comfortable set of flannel bottoms and a large t-shirt that hung off of his scrawny frame—and his hair was ruffled and messy. Lana could see how it stuck up in the back while the fringe had become frizzy and laid flat against his face. 

“I thought I’d check up on you,” Lana said. “And bring you soup.” 

“That was… thoughtful.” His voice was hoarse, and it sounded like he strained to get the few words out.

He would have looked adorable if there wasn’t a worrying flush to his face and glassiness over his eyes. But he did look younger than Lana had ever seen him. And smaller. If Lana didn’t know any better, she would have assumed he was a teenager taking a day off school. 

She just had to take care of him. She couldn’t leave a sick child home alone. 

“Mind if I come in?” 

Without waiting for an answer, Lana pushed past him and was walking into the house. His home was cute but definitely belonged to a 20-year-old boy. There was hardly any decor, and all of the curtains were drawn shut—though, the latter could have been due to the poor thing looking like he had just crawled out of bed—leaving the rooms to be dark and stuffy. The kitchen was bare, most notably. The only items on the countertops were an electric kettle and decorative containers that Lana suspected held nothing in them.

“May I ask what you’re doing?” Miles asked, standing behind her as she unscrewed the top of the thermos. 

“If you don’t eat the soup now, it’ll get cold.” 

If I don’t watch you eat right now, I don’t think you’ll eat at all. 

“I’m capable of taking care of myself.” 

“Sometimes it doesn’t matter if you’re capable of it or not, it’s just nice to have someone with you.” 

She began rifling through his cabinets. She was happy to see full sets of plates and bowls and cups. She wasn’t very happy to see, though, the lack of food on his shelves. 

She motioned for him to sit at his island. He did, looking like he was obeying the command of a superior. 

“I can make you tea as well,” Lana said, pouring out the soup in front of him. 

“Are you always in the habit of inviting yourself into people’s homes and invading their kitchens?” 

“I’ve been known to do so on occasion. But usually, people are more accepting of it than you because I’m also known to be a good cook.” 

Miles looked down at his soup. He stirred it, mixing up the vegetables and noodles in a whirlpool, and then set his spoon down.

He was tucked into himself, arms discreetly wrapped around his middle. Lana recognized the position as someone who couldn’t stomach the thought of food. 

And all of her forged maternal instincts that came from taking care of Ema rushed forward. Really, a 12-year-old girl and Miles Edgeworth couldn’t be too different to look after.  

Lana pressed her hand to his forehead. He allowed it, closing his eyes. 

“You’re really warm,” she sighed. “Do you have a thermometer?” 

Miles shook his head. Lana tutted. 

“Do you have cold medicine? Or any medicine?” 

“I have aspirin.” 

He was barely old enough to take aspirin. Lana prided herself on her knowledge of over-the-counter meds, and she clearly remembered the warning label on the back of the aspirin bottles to not give any to a person under 20. And god, the kid was just old enough to take such a simple drug? He was just entering the final stages of his coming of age?  

Lana had had a thought or two upon first meeting Miles that he was truly too young to be in a prosecutor’s office. Not for the uptight, snooty reasons her colleagues had. But because she couldn’t bear to think of the toll it would take on someone so young—so bent on perfection. 

“Do you have anything else?” she asked.

Miles shook his head. His eyebrows raised as if he was in trouble and scared of being scolded. It was always the subtle things that made Lana worry.  

“Well, lucky for you, I carry everything in my purse.” 

As she dug through her purse for her trusty bottle of acetaminophen, he coughed harshly into his elbow. It sounded worse than the night before. Like his lungs were trying to come up his throat. He winced and grimaced and struggled to breathe through it. Lana forgot about the pills and pulled out her phone. 

“I’m going to have Mia pick up a few things for you,” she said. 

“No—”

“Miles, you’re not going to get better like this. I’ll have her drop off something for your cough and a thermometer at some point today, okay?” 

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make sure you finish your soup.” 

—

By the time Mia arrived with a little bag from the pharmacy, Lana was waiting in the doorway with her phone in hand. She tried to smile when Mia met her, but she looked tired and worried. 

“Is he okay?” Mia asked. 

She tried not to care. People got the flu. People lived through the flu. Miles was going to be fine in a week. 

“He’s in rough shape,” Lana said with a shrug. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.” 

Mia passed her the bag with the highly specific requested items inside. Two types of cough syrup—antitussives and expectorants. Whatever those were. Lana had said a balance of both was necessary. A bottle of acetaminophen and another of ibuprofen. There was something about alternating between the two that wasn’t explained well over text. And cough drops (of which Mia had bought three kinds), acetaminophen, ibuprofen, and a thermometer. Any thermometer, Lana told Mia. 

The shopping list had been followed by a notification that Lana had sent Mia more than enough money to cover it all. There was a note in the money-sharing app that said and buy yourself something nice ;) xo Lana 

It had been a nice break from her anxiety-ridden text messages. Mia had bought herself a pack of gum and two lollipops.

“That’s for you,” Mia said when Lana pulled out the second lollipop. 

“How sweet,” Lana said. 

“Can I see him? I want to look at the scary prodigy all sick.” 

“Yeah, but be quiet. He just fell asleep.” Lana led her in. “Why do you want to see him like this?” 

“Blackmail. In case he ever tries pulling something, I’ll have a picture of him all snotty and gross.” 

“Mia, don’t take a picture of him.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s mean. And isn’t your whole thing being anti-blackmail?” 

This was different. There would be no one to truly show the picture to. And Miles would catch on to that. The threat would be superficial and empty. 

The living room was dark and quiet, and Mia nearly missed Miles on the couch. He was curled up under a blanket, blending into the upholstery. But looking closer, Mia could see how pale his face was and the light layer of sweat covering his forehead.

Lana unpacked the pharmacy bag on the coffee table, careful to not make a sound to disturb Miles. But he woke himself up anyway, his uneasy breathing turning into a coughing fit. A hand emerged from the blanket, and a crumpled tissue in his fist was pressed to his mouth. His cough sounded awful. Mia nearly gagged in sympathy when she heard something deep in his lungs get stirred up. 

“Miles, Mia brought you some stuff,” Lana said. “Can you take your temperature real quick?” 

She assembled the thermometer. Mia had picked one up with multiple tips in hopes that the fancier it looked, the better it would work. 

Lana handed the thermometer over, and Miles laid it under his tongue. Mia was surprised by the lack of fuss he made, and he did close his eyes immediately and seemed close to sleep by the time the thermometer beeped. 

Lana slid it out of his mouth for him as a mother would. 

“103.5,” she read. 

Mia grimaced. That wasn’t good at all. 

Miles’ eyes opened, but they didn’t react to what Lana had said. Instead, they fell on Mia with a glare nastier than what he usually served. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked. 

“I delivered you half of a pharmacy,” Mia said, gesturing to the table. “Be grateful.” 

Lana interrupted them. “Miles, if your fever gets much higher, I think I’m going to take you to a hospital.” 

And the glare towards Mia immediately changed to a scared look to Lana. He shook his head. 

“I’m fine,” he said. 

“But if you get any worse, I think you’ll need help and there’s no clinics open at this hour. It doesn’t sound like you’re breathing very well, either.”

It didn’t. Every other intake of breath was raspy.  

Miles shook his head again. Lana sat next to him on the couch and brushed his hair back from his face. It was absolutely out of character to allow himself to be coddled in such a way. 

How childish he looked, Mia thought. He certainly always carried the air of a brat, but he had never looked so small. So helpless. So in need of a person like Lana Skye. 

“Only if you get worse, okay?” Lana said. “And Mia brought you a lot of medicine, so hopefully you start feeling better by tonight.” 

But Miles still looked scared, and Mia wondered what his damage was with hospitals. Not that anyone particularly liked having to go into hospitals. They were genuinely acknowledged as places no one ever wanted to be. 

“Let’s try to get this cough under control first,” Lana said and reached for one of the bottles of cough syrup. 

Hours passed, and Mia stayed. She felt bad about leaving Lana alone with the possibility of Miles needing to be taken to a hospital hanging in the air. 

It was also nice to see Lana mother Miles, waking him so often to take a different pill or to press the thermometer into his mouth one more time. When she wasn’t doting on the prosecutor, they snuck into the kitchen to talk like children. 

“He really needs a doctor,” Lana said. “But it’ll be best if I can get him to a clinic tomorrow instead of putting him through the emergency room tonight.”

 “You’d go with him?”

“Do you think he could drive himself?” 

Mia rocked against the countertop. “No.” 

“Then, I’d have to go with him. Or someone would have to go with him, and I don’t really see anyone else lining up to escort him.” 

Lana picked up her phone and, looking over her shoulder, Mia could see her texting Ema and then Damon Gant. One a reassuring conversation and the other a semi-desperate beg to ask anyone at all if they could do her a favor. 

“You know,” Mia said, “if someone needs to watch Ema tonight, I can do it.” 

Lana looked up, perhaps embarrassed that she had been caught in such weakness. “Would you?” 

“Unless you need someone to wrangle Miles to the hospital.” 

Lana smiled. “We’ll see which child needs the most supervision. But if I did ask you to watch Ema tonight, you wouldn’t mind?” 

“Of course not. I have nothing better to do.” 

“And if I asked you to help me get Miles to a hospital?” 

Mia tilted her head back. She had little reason to say no. “Sure.” 

— 

As the sun was finally setting, coughing turned to choking. 

Miles struggled to pull himself up. He rested on his elbows, his head bowed, coughing too hard to take in any fulfilling breaths. 

Lana tugged him up so that he was sitting against her. His shoulders heaved and with his coughs, small strings of bile spilled from his mouth. 

“Can you get towels please?” Lana asked Mia. 

Mia ran down the halls until she found a closet and stacks of towels. It was an unnecessarily large house for one kid. Mia had a one-bedroom apartment with barely enough room to accommodate Maya when she visited. And there was Miles living in a house with, if Mia counted right as she passed them, two bathrooms and a bedroom on the first floor alone. 

But she couldn’t be mad at him if his sleazy mentor gave him the money to buy the house. If anything, it was good for Miles to keep whatever that man had already given him. 

Mia grabbed all the hand towels and wash clothes she could, wetting a few down, and ran back to the sitting room where Lana was trying to keep Miles up. 

“It’s okay,” she was repeating, and Mia could hear Miles mumbling apologies as she handed over the towels. 

Lana got to work cleaning up his face and then his clothes. Miles’ thin hands were limp on his lap, only being moved by Lana to scrub at the bile that hand landed on his sweatpants. 

“Do you want to change?” Lana asked. 

Miles shook his head. He was usually so pristine, Mia was surprised he didn’t want a fresh pair of clothes. 

“Okay. We can lay back down for now.” Lana helped him shuffle around until he was lying back down. 

She covered him with his blanket again and left one of the damp cloths over his forehead. Mia stood awkwardly off to the side. 

“It’s getting kinda late,” Lana said. 

“If you want me to watch Ema now, I can,” she said.

“I don’t know. I think I should really get Miles to a hospital, but I think it’ll take at least the two of us to get him anywhere.” 

“Is there anyone else who can watch Ema?” 

Lana didn’t say anything. Mia didn’t know many people who could really be left alone with a child. Not any that could be called at the last minute. 

“What about Diego?” she asked. 

“Ema’s never met Diego before. I’ve barely met Diego.” 

“Yeah, but he’d probably be willing to stay with her for the night. He mentioned to me once that he likes kids.” 

“Miles is a kid, and he doesn’t seem to like him.” 

“Miles is 20.” 

“I’m 20,” Miles agreed sleepily. 

“And Ema isn’t Miles,” Mia said. “She’s… less difficult.” 

“Okay,” Lana said. “If he doesn’t mind, tell him I can give him our house key if he meets us here and helps us get Miles into my car.” 

Mia didn’t hesitate to grab her phone and begin texting Diego, her newest message harshly juxtaposing her previous, half-flirty ones. Miles whined next to her, telling Lana that he would be okay. That he didn’t need to go anywhere. And Lana gently cooed to him that it would be alright. He needed more help than she could give him, and she and Mia would stay with him. 

Mia didn’t remember when she volunteered to stay with Miles in the hospital. She thought that she would be there long enough to get him inside and moved on from the waiting room before going back to her own apartment. She watched Miles cough into his pillow and Lana brush his damp hair back from his forehead and knew that she was well past the point of any further negotiations.

[haztory]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

--nanami kento x gn!reader; hurt, comfort, minor character death, established relationship, death from a disease

--summary: Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on. He's no stranger to it nor the quiet that follows it. But when it plagues you like this, he finds himself at a loss.

a/n: I don’t know where this came from. it just happened. have I mentioned I'm a huge nanami simp as well? something about capable men just gets to me hehe. anyways, enjoy!

i listened to ‘clouds’ by luke faulkner while writing this

(w.c. 2302)

Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on.

It’s not one he has to particularly enjoy, but it would be advantageous in the resting of his conscious to make peace with it. Rather than let death ruin the few hours of sleep he can manage a night, it’s significantly easier to never let it weigh too heavily on his mind, never let its stay linger for more than necessary in the space of his thoughts. His occupation demands a certain air of nonchalance from him, requires the detached, almost stoic acknowledgment of the situation. Eventually, familiarity will settle in the depth of his recollection and death becomes something one needn’t blink twice towards. 

It’s not an aspect of the job he likes, per se, but it’s significantly better than the alternative. This seemingly apathetic conception of human life is unfortunately an evil requirement. Instead of festering over the lives he didn’t save, he can focus on the ones he has yet to protect. His slate may be tainted with copious amounts of red— inky, dark, bleeding red; the kind that looks black as it accumulates— but in true Kento fashion, he’ll wipe it clean. Gently, with a clean rag and with slow, circular motions, he’ll wash away the evidence of his failures with as much respect as he can, regardless of how exhausted he may be and how much easier it would be to just run his body, suit, and knife through the stream of water.

The victims may no longer be of this earth, but their last physical embodiment lay wickedly upon his person, his weapon, and his soul. Where he couldn’t save them, the least he can do is lay their last parts to rest with as much kindness as one can muster: with a slow wipe and a silent prayer. 

Death is part of the process, but, if one allows it, it can also be the fuel towards excellence. A drive that settles in after the brief misfortune, kickstarting the desire for improvement; A need to do and be better. To work harder and save more people. But that’s all it must be. No residual guilt, no lasting regret, only fuel. That’s what Nanami Kento learns early on.

What he learns rather recently, though, is that death is much different when it’s inevitable. 

When there is no amount of slashing, no amount of fighting, no amount of improved skills that can prevent it. Even worse, when you know it’s coming and preparation can do very little in settling the grief. 

Death is part of the process, but how can one rationalize it when it doesn’t come from the immediate life or death situation he so often faces? When it doesn’t come from the hands of maniacal cursed spirits or the wickedness of greedy men, but instead, from the unforgiving nature of nature itself? How does one reconcile the inevitability of death when it happens to someone so young?

Cancer. 

She was only eleven.

Death is part of the process, Kento used to think, but as he stands amongst the sea of black on this fitting day of grey, he can’t help but notice how incredibly unfair this all is. Her mother stands a few feet away, silent as they scatter her ashes by the river she used to play in as a child. She stands flanked on either side by loved ones, and yet, the abysmal look on her face betrays any ideal that she may be comforted by the closeness of others; Hardly even cognizant of the fact that they’re there. He’s seen that look before, once on himself.  

It’s the face of vicissitude, the kind that casts someone past the rocks of sadness and out onto the sea of loneliness and despair. A place that no one can follow.

Spouses are called some variation of widow, children are called orphans. What does one call a parent who’s lost their child? No doubt the lack of a label only helps to contribute to the loneliness of it all. Suspended in pain without even the decency of a customary societal title attached to one’s name. Left with nothing but the echoing emptiness of a broken heart.

Grief personified. A hollow shell of a being. Just another person who lost someone they loved. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kento is used to death, but this? This has heartache weighing heavier on his shoulders than he’s used to, forcing his impeccably straight posture forward with a sag of tragedy. The silence of the fellow attendees forces him to maintain some morsel of composure, in fear of disturbing the serene devastation of it all that’s composed so fragilely. So delicate that even a sigh will break the glass of still anguish. As her ashes are scattered to the river and the priest begins the common prayer, the image of her weak smile in her last moments plays vividly behind Kento’s tinted glasses. He can hardly swallow the lump that tightens his throat.

He can hardly imagine how her mother feels. Can hardly imagine how you feel. She was your niece after all.

His eyes trail towards your figure. Standing to the right of your sister, dressed in the customary black, and hand held tightly in hers in solidarity of the magnitude of the loss. Kento didn’t mind standing towards the back, away from the bubble of intimacy that surrounded the two of you. It would’ve felt like an invasion of the sanctity of family to stand anywhere near. A foreigner, he’s always attributed himself to be whenever accompanied with your family— not out of their refusal to accommodate him, but rather his own voluntary maintenance of separation from their sphere of loving connection that was more or less absent from his own life— and any meager effort to share sentiments of sorrow would feel, more or less, inauthentic. At least at this moment.

So he waits, towards the back of the gathering. A far enough distance to ascertain his separation from the immediate family, but close enough to where, should you require him at any point, you need only turn around to seek him out. And he will come to you, as fast as his legs may go, regardless of the people that may be in the way. For his hand has been twitching this entire time with the need to physically comfort you and his eyes continuously dart back to your figure in watchful consideration.

The priest ends his prayer and the last of the ashes are sent off and silence once more encompasses the gathering. The aching kind, the one that wants to be disturbed so badly, but remains untouchable. The kind of agonizing mute that has surrounded his life since you received the fateful phone call a few days before.

Kento is no stranger to quiet. It’s his preferred method of life, not the kind of person to find delight in unnecessary, boastful noise, nor the kind to entertain it often. But this is the kind of quiet he finds greats distaste in. Especially since it’s deprived him of his favorite kind of din— yours.

The life that is so intricately intertwined with yours has held virtually no recognizable clamor in four days. No low chatter from the television, no raucous laughter induced from one of your social media apps, no prolonged discussion of each other’s days or interesting points of conversation. Only silence has filled every gap and crevice as you two packed bags and made arrangements to head to your hometown in preparation for the funeral. Lamenting silence filled the space as you sat side by side on the train towards your destination. Mournful silence encompassing the home of your sister upon your mutual entry into the area. Silence so thick yet so delicate, so long and so void that any attempt to dismantle it feels boilingly uncomfortable.

He doesn’t like the wall it has unintentionally placed between you two, wanting nothing more than to tear it down with his bare hands and have you back within the safety of his arms. But he knows better. 

Death is part of the process, and he must let grief run its course. He’ll just remain in the shadows as a beam of support, intent to provide the space and time you need, but always keeping a trained eye on you.

That’s what love is, he supposes. It’s an odd thing to think, especially as solemness surrounds him as it does now. The drag of sadness competing with the surge of love that overwhelms his veins. It’s burning, and intense, and while his is mostly in consideration of you (as most things in his life nowadays are), it’s peculiarly indicative of the moment. Poetic, almost. 

Bleeding affection borders this ceremony of gathered friends and family in a proper send-off, love encapsulated in the silent tears trailing down faces and memorialized in the air of stagnance. Pouring in every direction as they all gaze sadly at the traveling ashes of the young girl down the steady waters of the river.

It’s grief, yes, but also love, for what is grief but love with nowhere to go?

The ride home is like all the other days, incredibly hushed. Inaudible. He can barely hear your breaths. He wonders, and not for the first time, if when he dies, this is how you will grieve. In this tragic quiet, moving with such stillness that was he not watching, he wouldn’t know you moved at all. A vacant soul wandering just to survive. Jujutsu sorcerers unfairly make their peace with dying early on in their tenure, and maybe he’s committed you to a life of tragedy by involving himself so intimately with you. 

When he dies, and he will— this life that he has chosen spares him no luxuries, not even false beliefs— he will condemn you to a brutal reality that he could have spared you from were he not so selfish. He hates seeing you like this. Hates it with every fiber of his being.

Death is a part of the process. He understands that. He just wishes it wasn’t so collateral. A prolonged state of your affliction that resulted from his hand would surely be a more painful fate than any gruesome death.

Your parent’s home is warm, in sharp contrast to the events of the day. And while they stayed with your sister, Kento insisted you return to your place of stay to wash and change if only to give you a moment alone; So he can check on you in the sanctity of privacy, grant you a brief respite from the unrelenting tide of sorrow, cherish you in these sparing instances that he can never take for granted. 

You bathe alone, he gives you that. He makes tea the way your mother taught him how, even though you quite like the way he makes it and has it set on the table upon your return. Dressed in comfier attire and seated blankly at the table, he settles in beside you. His shoulder touching yours hoping to convey in this minute action that he’s here. 

He doesn’t need the words to say it. Just his presence. 

His hand too, as you settle your own silently in the space of his large one, gripping tightly onto the rough skin. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, bringing it to his lips as he placed two long kisses on its surface. You’ve made eye contact all day but this is the first time you’ve really looked at each other. 

Where he can see the pain swimming in the pools of your irises behind the film of unshed tears and you can see the unrestrained sympathy and worry in his. 

“She was eleven,” you whisper, unable to speak any louder.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s not much he can say, only press his lips harder to the back of your hand.

It’s the only moment you’ve had alone together since arriving, and while he was so desperate before to hear something, anything come from your mouth, he finds that the inactivity the fills space once more is rather appropriate. One that he doesn’t want to disturb. Not when there isn’t anything he can say that can heal this wound, nothing he can do except love and care for you when you’re too weak to do it yourself. 

He places a hand behind your head, tilting you forward as he places his lips upon your forehead and smoothing the stray hairs that have displaced themselves from your formal hairdo. Fingers travel down the back of your neck and rub gentle circles on your shoulder, healing any aches with his touch. 

“Drink,” he murmurs against your temple, and you do. A sign of progress that he relishes in. He’s more than eager to see the slow trek back to a state of normalcy, but he knows it’ll be different from here on out. There’s a hole in your heart and it will take a while to heal. 

But he’ll be there. For as long as he can, whenever he can. Because that’s what love is.

Death is part of the process, but he finds it’s infinitely more manageable with you. He knows you feel the same way when at the end of the day as you lay side by side in the guest room of your parents’ home, you take comfort in the safety of his arms and finally, fill the air with something other than the prolonged silence and let him comfort you. 

Death is part of the process, and he knows the inevitability of his own part in it. But in this moment with you, he’ll let himself indulge selfishly in your noise. It’s his favorite sound, after all. 

end notes: come shoot me a message! i love hearing from yall. 

[arcturusreads]

PLEASE DROP A PT 2 OF PRAYERS FOR THE PLUMBER

Prayers for the Plumber Part Two

You can find part one here

I hope you enjoy this one! And I might just have a part three in mind...

It had been a full day since the Hayes clan had descended upon Meredith house. Thankfully, the kids had gotten along well enough and there hadn’t been any issues with them. Bailey had been basking in the fact that there were more boys in the house that he could talk to.

With Irene and Cormac both at work, Meredith was currently keeping an eye on all five of the kids not that Cormac’s son really needed adult supervision. The two of them were set up in the living room finishing off their homework whilst her own kids were in the back garden playing. Relishing in the calm and quiet, Meredith had sat herself down on the dining table with her paperwork and tablet, fuelled by a large mug of coffee she was sure would see at least three refills before her work was done.

She’d lost herself reading a research paper when someone had cleared their throat. Jumping a little she looked up to see Liam and Austin standing by the table, sheepish looks on both of their faces.

“Sorry, Dr Grey,” Austin murmured.

She shook her head smiling at them, “Don’t worry about it, I should have been paying more attention. And I thought I told you both to call me Meredith.” It was odd having two kids who were living with her call her Dr Grey, she wanted them to feel comfortable around the house. “Is everything okay?

Meredith couldn’t help but be slightly concerned. Cormac had often spoken about how independent his kids now were. They liked doing their own thing, didn’t need anyone to keep an eye on them and were fairly self-sufficient. So, hackles were raised when they had decided to come over to her.

“Uh, yeah. Actually, we were wondering if we could talk to you…” Austin began to trail off, feeling slightly awkward and stupid that he should even ask her.

When Cormac had first brought up the like of Dr Grey at home, the boys were immediately curious. They didn’t take a whole load of interest in Cormac’s colleagues but they knew that he didn’t really speak to a lot of them when they were in Switzerland. He wasn’t particularly close to anyone but Dr Grey was something that he couldn’t seem to stop mentioning. The boys were pretty sure that Cormac didn’t even realise how much he brought her up in conversation.

So, after the second week of hearing about her, Austin and Liam had decided to do some snooping online. Typing in the words Meredith Grey came up with multiple articles on the woman that the boys were pretty sure was the one their Dad didn’t stop going on about. She was successful and obviously busy so Austin felt like an idiot for disturbing her.

“Yeah, sure. Pull up a chair,” she nodded to the two seats on one side of her.

Feeling a little relief wash over them, the boys took a seat, glad that Meredith hadn’t just turned them away.

“Da said that you lost your husband a couple of years ago.” Liam hadn’t been quite sure how to bring this topic up and couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty at the mention of it. He had seen the way his dad got when their mom was mentioned.

A sad smile crossed Meredith face, “Yeah, it’s been around six years now.”

Before Liam could carry on, Austin interrupted. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No, no. It’s okay, did you guys want to ask something?”

The ache of losing Derek had never completely left her. There were days where it hit her like a tsunami wave, where it took every ounce of her strength to get through the day when her kids were the only reason that she was able to survive. Today, that ache wasn’t all-consuming. There were two kids in front of her that had lost their mother, they’d watched her die. So, if they had questions they wanted to ask, or just wanted to talk to her about it then she could be there for them.

“Have you dated someone since then?” Austin looked down at his hands as he asked.

That wasn’t the question that Meredith had been expecting but she still answered. “I have but it took some time. Dating other people… it’s never once meant that I stopped loving Derek. He’s always with me.”

Austin slowly nodded as she spoke. It was the answer that he had wanted to hear. Abigail had told both Liam and Austin to make sure that their dad eventually moved on when the time was right. At the time, they’d agreed, wanting to do anything their mother had wanted them to do. They’d also spoken about to their aunt. Irene had been worried that Cormac would end up spending the rest of his days lonely, especially as the boys got older and went to college. They’d all come to the conclusion that within the next year they were going to get him on a dating app.

The reality of it was different though. Cormac hadn’t been with anyone since Abi had passed away. He hadn’t shown interest in anyone, so their mother’s final wish had been pushed to the back of their mind. Until recently when the boys could tell that the mere mention of a certain General Surgeon was enough to change his demeanour.

They knew, in their heart of hearts, that their dad would never stop loving Abigail. They saw the way he still looked over the old photo albums, a softness taking over his eyes. They heard the way he spoke about her like she was still the breath of fresh air in his life. Hearing it from someone else though, someone who had lost the person they were meant to spend the rest of their life with, gave both of the boys a little more comfort.

“Could I ask you something else?”

“Sure,” Meredith had pushed her work to the side, giving the boys her full attention.

Austin looked out of the kitchen window, glancing at the three kids playing out there. It had only then struck him how young they must have been when their dad had passed away. He wondered how many memories of him were actually solidified in their mind.

“How did you kids take it? I’m sorry if I’m being nosey but…”

“But you want to know and that’s understandable. You aren’t being nosey.” Meredith sighed, thinking back to the first time she had told them. “Zola’s the only one who really remembers Derek. Bailey was too young, and I only found out I was having Ellis after he had passed away. Zola was the one who found it hardest to get her head around, it took a lot of reassuring that no one was ever going to replace her dad. I wouldn’t ever want that but my kids… sometimes I think they’re smarter than me.” She laughed, they were Derek’s kids, alright. “They want me to be happy, Ellis wants me to find my second Prince Charming but it’s not always going to be straightforward. For them or for me.”

“We think dad wants to date!” Liam suddenly blurted out.

His brother quickly jabbed him in the ribs, making him wince. “What? It’s true!”

“Oh,” Meredith was a little shocked. The past couple of months, she had thought there was something going on between them. Neither of them had outwardly mentioned it, of course, but she had honestly thought that there had been something there. Meredith quickly schooled her face into a neutral expression.

“Would that be okay with the two of you? Because I’m sure your dad wouldn’t want to do anything that would make you both uncomfortable.” Meredith couldn’t help it, but half of her mind was on the conversation and the other half was trying to figure out who the hell Cormac was considering dating.

The boys looked at each other. They’d had their own conversations about it when Cormac had been at work, or after one of his long conversations about Meredith. They hadn’t liked the idea at first, hated it if they were honest. But over time they’d realised that this is exactly what their dad needed and what their mom had wanted. Plus, they were pretty sure that if he started to dare someone then that should have less time to yell at them. They smiled; both having come to the same conclusion.

“I think after talking to you about it, we’d be pretty cool with him dating.”

[ee-laugh]

𝐸𝐶𝐶𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑅𝐼𝐶 | 𝑃𝐽𝑀

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ: sᴍɪʀᴋ

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ

You woke up pretty late than usual. As you tried lifting your head off the pillow, it started pounding. You got up nonetheless; groaning during the process. It took you a full minute to get a hang of your surroundings. You were looking around the room, and then your heart sank.

Haejin...

That was the first thought your brain was able to process. As the pounding in your head started to die down a bit, you looked around to realise jimin wasn’t in bed.

Your fingers traced the messy sheets on his side of the bed. Your hand stopped when it touched a certain object; his phone.

You gulped. Should I do it?

You had never checked jimin’s phone before. You never needed to. He was your husband and you trusted him; blindly. But after last night, you were contemplating everything. Your hand hesitantly grabbed his phone and switched it on.

Enter Passcode, the screen read.

You obviously didn’t know it.

Maybe his birthday? You typed it in.

Error.

Maybe.. mine? You thought, typing it in. Much to your surprise, it unlocked.

Your finger hesitantly lingered over the iMessages app. You tapped on it, revealing all his texts. You were looking for one contact though, and when you found it, you didn’t hesitate to tap on it.

Haejin 💖

H: Last night was fun! :)

~seen~

The message was from a day before jimin had returned from his business trip. Your heart was palpitating and your hand; still gripping the phone tightly; was sweaty.

Last night?

You were just beginning to wrap your head around the meaning behind that text when someone knocked at the door. You flinched, hastily putting the phone back.

“You already up? Good morning!” Jimin’s cheerful voice filled the silence in the room. He was holding a tray with food on it.

“Morning.” You muttered, beginning to get out of bed.

“No! Stay there.” He said, walking towards you with the breakfast. He placed the tray on your side table and looked at you.

“I made you your favourite food.” He leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss; and for the first time ever, it didn’t feel good. It didn’t give you butterflies in your stomach, nor made your heart beat a little faster.

It felt forced instead. As if he wanted you to forget last night with that one kiss.

—

Taehyung strolled out of his office building. It was still a bit early but he was already done with all his appointments for the day. As he got into his car, his phone went off. He took it out to check who had called him.

Y/n 💞, the screen read.

He picked it up almost immediately.

“Hello? Taehyung?” Came your voice.

“Ah.. yeah it’s me, y/n. What’s wrong?” He could tell from your voice you were worried about something.

There was a pause. And then some breathing. And then followed your husky voice. “Do you perhaps...” Pause “...know who haejin is?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows raised at the question. He wasn’t expecting this at all. Before he could answer, however, you croaked out, “Please, don’t hide anything from me. Tell me the truth.”

He had no idea what was going on. He nodded, even though he knew you couldn’t see him.

“She’s jimin’s ex, why?”

Pause.

Taehyung’s eyebrows were almost touching together with the way he was frowning. Did he say something he shouldn’t have? Should he have just lied instead? He didn’t know anymore.

“Can I come over?” You sounded like you were about to break down into tears any second now.

“Yea, of course.” He cut the call.

“Drive faster.” He ordered the driver; chewing on the inside of his cheek.

—

You had been crying for 5 minutes straight. Taehyung, still clueless of the reason for your crying, ran his fingers through your hair gently as you kept crying in his chest.

You finally looked up at his face; and the sight clenched taehyung’s heart.

“What’s the matter, y/n?” He said, looking from your one eye to the other.

You were a hiccuping mess, but his concerned, gentle gaze made you wanna spill everything out. Share every detail of your messed up marriage life with him. And so you did.

“So you’re telling me.. he moaned his ex’s name out loud while fucking you?” Taehyung asked for the 273736th time, just to make sure he had heard you right.

You nodded for the 273736th time as well, your head still plopped in his chest. You felt embarrassed to face him after opening up about what had been bothering you.

“I can’t believe this. Although I do know their relationship used to be pretty serious... but damn.”

You sniffed at his words. How in hell were you only knowing about jimin’s relationship with her?!

Taehyung tried suppressing the smirk beginning to form on his lips.

“I bet it was a mistake, y/n. Jimin would never cheat on you, right?”

His provocative tone caused you to open your mouth, and then close it again. You didn’t know anymore.

“I’m so pathetic.”

Taehyung lifted your chin with his finger and made you look in his eyes.

“Hey! It’s okay. Your feelings are valid, alright? What he did was awful. Unforgivable even.” His face got closer to yours as he said that, and you couldn’t help but drop your gaze on his lips he had been biting on.

“Now be a good girl and eat something, aight?” Saying this, he got up; leaving you hot-faced and embarrassed.

Snap out of it, you slapped your face lightly.

—

The number you have dialled is currently switched off

Jimin groaned, almost smashing his phone against the wall. You were gone. And he didn’t know where you could be at this hour of the night.

He was done calling all of your friends. Heck, he even called jungkook and asked for you but he didn’t know of your whereabouts either.

“Fuck..” he groaned, downing another glass of wine. It burned his throat but he couldn’t care less. He just wanted you to come back, and to apologise to you for what he had done to you.

—

Buzzz

Buzzzzz

Taehyung groaned. Who the hell’s calling at this hour, he thought to himself as he pushed his body off the mattress. His hand roamed around the nightstand til it located his phone.

Jimin?

“Hey?” Taehyung yawned out.

“Hi, taehyung? Have you seen y/n today?” He sounded desperate.

Taehyung looked to his side, where you were peacefully sleeping in his bed. His hand slowly reached out to remove the strands of hair covering your pretty face.

“Y/n?” He spoke; his eyes still glued on your body. “No, why do you ask? What’s wrong?”

“Uh.. nothing. Thanks. Sorry for disturbing you so late at night.”

“Aah.. it’s nothing, jiminah. You can call whenever.” He hung up.

Taehyung turned to face you now; looking at you as if for the first time. The dim moonlight coming from the thin blinds reflecting off of your body made you look ethereal. He leaned in to gently remove the thin strap of your dress from your shoulder; pressing his lips against the skin there.

“You’re mine now, you know that?” He whispered; smirking.

———————————————————————

Who’s your favourite character so far and why? I’m very curious to know!

Taglist: @jwlmnbt @yeontanie21 @safi4x @fadingprunebagelfestival @nooooooooona @jedi-nightingale @thatrebelfangirl @staerryminimini @lachimolala95 @esthemin @d3a6 @scarletterose-was-inlove

[botanicials]

wish this was the full part, but here is a sneak peak of falling in love at a coffee shop. the first few rough paragraphs. coming soon! littles will be posted until then ❣️

falling in love at a coffee shop

i. (sneak peak!)

October 13

The cold NYC wind is forgiving for once, all things considered. You had just spent your evening watching over seven sugar high eight-year-olds that had decided finger painting was the ideal after school activity. It was laborious at times and their parents probably weren’t too pleased, but the kids were happy.

Your phone is warm against your cheek as you walk, owing to the Disney Favorites playlist you were asked to play- and Eloise skipping nearly every song that wasn’t sung by Elsa or Moana. Your mother’s words are insistent in your ear: plane tickets, dinners, graduation details.

“It isn’t for another… what? Four months? We’ll figure it out.”

You hear your mother sigh. “I’d rather plan everything out now, the end of the year brings me enough stress as is.”

“It-“

“And what is it with your graduation ceremony being in January? Such an odd time. I mean, right after the holidays? Don’t they realize we might want a bit of a break?”

You laugh lightly at that, eyes spotting the familiar rusting sign hanging up ahead. “Um, has to do with my hours and the kids’ semester ending. I don’t know. Tickets should be cheaper, they usually are after Christmas.”

“Suppose that’s a positive.”

“Definitely a positive- I’ll call you later, I’m grabbing some food so I can hurry up and get home. There's an apron covered with paint in my bag and I’m convinced it’ll stain everything I have inside.”

You begin to unwrap your scarf from your neck as you near closer to the mahogany red door, turning to push it open with your side. “You put an apron covered in paint in your bag?” She sounds incredulous.

“It’s rolled, mom. I’ll call you later.” You repeat.

“Soon.” She says, and you hum before finally ending the call.

A gust of warm air hits the chilled skin of your face when you enter, along with the strong aroma of brewing coffee and a hint of vanilla. You move quickly to close the door behind you, not wanting to disturb anyone with the reality of what they’d have to endure once they leave.

“Welcome in.”

Your eyes follow over to the voice that called out, to catch him take a quick glance at you before turning to meet your eyes again.

He’s not much taller than the familiar college students that work here, but judging from his shoulders, his build is clearly much larger. Atop his wool baby blue sweater is a- definitely used -burgundy apron you’ve seen time and time again. Who you haven’t seen, however, is him.

Once his eyes flicker to the new customer in front of him and back to you, you realize that you’d completely ignored his greeting. And hadn’t moved from the door?

You find yourself sending a clumsy smile before moving across the hardwood floors to stand in line behind the short balding man repeating his order.

Your phone is in your hand a moment later, needing a distraction as to not ogle at the pretty green-eyed barista any longer. Your thumb instinctively lands on Instagram, as much as you wish it hadn’t.

A selfie of an old friend from high school.

A photo of someone’s newborn. The third you’d seen this month.

The conventional food flat lay.

You hear the man in front of you make a second order of two dozen bagels for a big meeting tomorrow morning. “Hoping for a promotion,” he says, a clear smile in his voice. You silently wish him the best. With bagels from Coldwell’s, he was bound to make a good impression.

You’ve been coming here since the beginning of your junior year, finding the cozy café to be a home away from home. You’d discovered it after moving out of your dorm, it was an unmistakable upgrade from the campus coffee shop you were forced to visit every morning.

Thick floor to ceiling windows on one wall, exposed brick and a menu on another; coupled with the bulbous string lights, numerous plants hanging from the ceiling and perched on shelves with the occasional vintage record. 

There were unspoken sections inside; couches and low tables for group study sessions, a line of comfy booths along the back for brunches and dates, a few tables with mismatched wooden chairs for those who’d rather spend some time alone. It was always clean and well kept, and during Christmas, it smelled of nutmeg.

Depending on which barista had their phone connected to the speakers, the shop was either playing Spotify’s Chill Lofi Study Beats or smooth jazz, both welcomed by the regulars that filtered in day-to-day.

You hear the last drop of the bagel slicer when your phone buzzes faintly. Milo: We should go for breakfast one morning. When are you free? :)  That message alone was enough for you to stuff your phone into your bag. Jesus Christ.

You watch the man’s scuffled loafers as he makes his way out, the arm free from two large boxes lifting to wish his barista a good night. Speaking of, he’s got a welcoming grin on his face when you step to the counter. There was no doubt he was recalling your odd entrance.

“Hello.”

His eyes are bright, they remind you of a dewy morning in a garden - and you wish you were in the right state of mind to watch him the way he was watching you. “Hi, um”, your eyes fly up to the menu as if you weren’t sure of exactly what you were getting. “Are you still selling those bottled fruit drinks? I usually get them in the morning.”

“The Pressed ones? Got a few in the back but I’ll grab one for you. What flavor?” You take a second to inwardly scold yourself for focusing too hard on the way he’d flavor, there was no second-guessing on whether he had an accent or not from moments ago.

“Blackberry,” you say, sending a small smile.

He taps at the screen of the POS, his lips tucked into his mouth as you reach into your bag for your wallet.

Not there. No. Not that pocket either.

You frown.

“So, a blackberry Pressed, anything else?”

Your head is nearly inside of your purse as you move your belongings around, cautious of smearing Crayola paint anywhere. “Please, a blueberry um...”, you flip the apron to stick out a bit and allow you more room to see, careful not to squeeze it too hard, “bagel?”

A beat of silence.

“You sure?”

Your head snaps back up to find the barista- Harry, his name tag reads, it suits him -smiling at you, teasing.

You laugh at yourself a bit before buttoning your bag closed. Your wallet was nowhere to be found; which would frighten you if you hadn’t already left it in the classroom twice this week. “Yes-. Yeah, sorry my brain is like, fried from studying.”

“No, yeah totally get it,” he says. Tot-ally.

You find yourself contemplating on whether you should tell him to completely scrap your order or give in and finally figure out how ApplePay works. He scratches at his chin. “Erm.. cream cheese?”

You have some at home. “No, thank you.”

He nods and you take a glance at the tiny hoop earring that catches in the overhead light as he does. You’re just about to resume digging in your bag to check one more time, when he surprises you by saying something that isn’t your total. “What are you majoring in?”

You readjust. “Education. I want to teach 3rd grade.”

“Do you?” His smile is wide and you notice the dimples that sink into his cheeks. Because of course, the guy has dimples.

His genuine happiness takes you by surprise and you laugh. “Yeah, I graduate this year. Well- hopefully. Still have to pass my finals.”

He’s still tapping at the POS- definitely taking much longer than normal, but you don’t mind. Thankfully you had nowhere to be for once.

“M’sure you’ll do great.” You smile, despite the fact that his eyes were still on the screen in front of him. “I um, I graduated just last year,” he looks up to see your eyebrows rise in question. “Film.”

“Film?” you repeat. “I.. Honestly, I can see that.” The earring, the eyes, his style. It made sense.

Tap. Tap. You catch the price going down.

“That because I’m working at a coffee shop?”

“That- What? No, no. I-“

He lets out a boyish giggle and shakes his head. “Only joking. That was a bit of a dig to us film majors, hm?”

“A little. It just makes sense,” you continue. “You look like a film major.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a compliment,” you say, and his lips twist to fight a smile.

“I’ll take it,” he says, slipping a glove onto his left hand. Your eyes immediately take notice of the cross etched next to his thumb. “Total comes out to $3.21. I’ll go grab your-“

“You didn’t have to do that.” You’ve ordered this countless times, and though Anne let you have your things for free when no one else was around, it’s always come out to $6.78.

Harry only frowns, shaking his head. Don’t worry about it. “I’ll go grab your drink.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

The second he disappeared into the kitchen  you’ve seen so little of, you quickly lift your wrist to try and figure out how this stupid watch worked.

You told yourself to test this out at some point, but you just haven’t had the time. The pad of your figure taps and swipes against the tiny screen, nothing screaming pay with me!

Not that app.

Not that one either.

Had you even set it up?

You hear the door smack lightly against the wall. “Alright here’s- oh,” Harry stumbles upon return, eyebrows drawn together. “Did the card not work? There’s a chip at the bottom-“

“No, I was- I left my wallet at work and I’m trying to..” You point at the card reader. “Does this have Apple Pay?”

His eyes flicker between your watch and the reader before nodding. “Yeah, you’ve just got to..” he leans over the counter a bit and his hand hovers over yours. “May I?”

With confirmation, his nimble fingers press lightly into the inside of your wrist, tilting it toward the reader. His touch is soft- he’s excessively gentle despite only adjusting your hand. He moves his thumb to double click a button on the side of your device, the palm of his hand brushing the side of yours.

The both of you look up at one another, eyes meeting in much closer proximity than any time tonight.

You can’t possibly pick up a guy at a coffee shop. Right?

Ding!

You look down at your wrist that’s still in his hold, your tiny screen now displaying a successful checkmark.

He swiftly pulls his hand away, the gloved one quickly grabbing your bagel as the other grabbed a waxed baggie. “Sorry-“

“No, thank you.” You can’t help but let out a clumsy laugh at the moment the two of you just shared. Silly, you think to yourself.

“To go, yeah?”

“Please.”

He smiles, eyes focused on the screen before the printer hums to life and begins to spit out your receipt.

You watch as he works the bagel slicer and toaster without conscious thought, large hand pulling off his glove before taping the flimsy paper to the front of the bag. He’s sliding your items over to you to grab when you speak once more.

“And thank you again, for the discount.”

He only shakes his head, lips turning down into a funny looking frown. “Don’t worry about it, really. Good luck on finals.”

You smile gratefully, managing to hold your juice and bagel in one hand as you make your way back over to the door. “Thank you! Have a good night.”

“Bye, love you—“ He practically chokes on his own spit, turning quickly to cough steadily into the crook of his elbow.

You were halfway out of the door when you heard him, and now you stare, amused as the cold wind nips at the left side of your face. “Love me?”

“I-“ His nose crinkles, and he coughs one last time. “Sorry, I-“ You watch as he visibly relaxes once his focus is back on you and not on trying to breathe correctly. 

Your head is tilted to the side, an obvious glint in your eye.

He lets out a breathy laugh before trying to continue. “I don’t-” Your eyebrows rise as he stumbles. “- love you. I just- I say it to friends a lot and I guess it… slipped? I don’t know-“

“I’m teasing.” You call out over the wind that blows through as you push the door open wider. You can’t help but laugh to yourself as you move to leave. “Don’t worry. Bye, Harry.”

[c-is-writing]

i do adore

pairing: wanda maximoff x gn!reader

genre: f l u f f

word count: 1775

warnings: yet again, i did not proofread this lmao. i am just typing whatever comes to my mind. otherwise, it’s just really fluffy so pls enjoy!!

a/n: good morning, i am writing this at 1am. i should be working on my college apps but this fic was just living in my mind rent-free and would not leave until i wrote it. also, this fic is inspired by and has lyrics from a song called “i do adore” by mindy gledhill. it’s a really cute song :’DD

Everything you do, it sends me

Higher than the moon with every

Twinkle in your eye

You strike a match that lights my heart on fire

 Ever since you had joined the Avengers, a certain brunette always caught your eye. You’d find yourself paying more attention to her than anyone else. At this moment, you lean against the kitchen counter, completely entranced by the way she spoke animatedly to Natasha. The way her hair cascaded down her shoulders. The way she waved her hands around, using her actions to emphasize what she’s saying. How the kitchen lights gleamed in her eyes, illuminating them. 

God, she’s so cute. And smart. And genuine. And caring. I- “Hello? Y/N? You there?” You are quickly brought out of your thoughts as a grimy hand waved in front of your face, blocking your view of Wanda. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you grip Tony’s grease-covered hand to stop it from moving, only to release it immediately after. Smiling, Wanda watches you glance at your now-dirty hands and start searching for a towel, careful not to get anything else dirty. You mumble, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just..distracted.”  

Natasha notices that the young girl’s attention is elsewhere and decides to put a pause on the conversation. As she bids her goodbyes, Wanda takes it as her cue to head over to where you were, crouched next to the cabinets, searching for soap. “Need help?” The melody of her words steals your attention as you turn your head, meeting her blue eyes. Suddenly, your heart begins to pound and you can hear the heartbeats in your ears. At a loss for words, you shake your head and quickly rush out of the kitchen, not caring about your dirty hands. Wanda just stands in the kitchen alone, wondering about what just happened.

 When you're near, I hide my blushing face

And trip on my shoelaces

Grace just isn't my forté

But it brings me to my knees when you say

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

I fall into a pile on the floor

 It’s been only a day since the kitchen incident and that’s when you realized that you, Y/N L/N, have a crush on the one and only Wanda Maximoff. Groaning and draping your arm over your eyes, you ask seemingly no one “Oh, God. What if she doesn’t like me back?” You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as you begin to think about her. You like, maybe even love, everything about her. Flashes of her laughs and smiles run through your head, like cars on a freeway until a knock on your door disturbs you. It creaks open and you have yet to remove your arm that’s covering your eyes. 

You feel the bed dip as you hear the voice you’ve grown to love, “Hey, how are you, darling? It seemed like you weren’t feeling well yesterday.” Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you bury your face into the pillow as you slowly melt into it. In a muffled voice, “I’m fine, Wans. I think I’m just tired.” She knows that there’s something you’re not telling her but she refrains from looking into your thoughts. “Okay, well, I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready.” and with that she gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.  

Sighing, you sit up and start getting ready for the day. Your mind can’t stop thinking about the way she called you darling, causing you to fumble with everything you come into contact with. In your flustered state, you nearly drop your phone, accidentally put on mismatching socks, and trip over yourself as you open the door. Quickly composing yourself, you take a breath and start heading towards breakfast. Oh boy, what a start to my morning.

 We're as different as can be

I've noticed you're remarkably relaxed

And I'm overly uptight

We balance out each other nicely

 “Y/N?! When’s the last time you took a break?”

“Uhhh, I’m not sure...but I just have so much paperwork to complete, I can’t really afford to take a break.”

“Nope. You’re taking one right now. Your health and sanity is more important than some paperwork.”

“But, Wans, I-”

“No buts. I’m going to a café and I’m dragging you with me”

Admitting defeat, you place the pen in your hand down and mark out where you stopped. Your joints crack as you rise up from the chair that you’ve been sitting in for almost 8 hours. Wanda gives you a smile and holds her hand out, signaling for you to take it. Gently taking a hold of her hand, she pulls you along with her, not noticing how clammy they are. 

A few minutes after you leave the compound, you readjust your grip on her hand to interlace each others’ fingers. As you walk at a steady rhythm, you feel more relaxed, all of the stress from the paperwork leaving your body. Wanda takes note of how your shoulders aren’t as tense and you seem to be enjoying yourself. She carefully looks over your figure; how the sun reflects in your eyes, bringing out their color, how the wind gently ruffles your hair, how you sigh contently when you lean your head against her shoulder. 

“Thanks for bringing me out here.” She squeezes your hand, “Of course, Y/N. I care about you. Plus, it looked like you really needed a break from that hellish paperwork.” Laughing at her comment, you don’t notice how Wanda looks at you as if you were a masterpiece in an art gallery; her eyes, full of adoration.

 Puppy love is hard to ignore

When every little thing you do, I do adore

 Arriving at the café shortly after, Wanda holds the door open for you as you step in, the smell of coffee beans and gingerbread floating through the air. She giggles as your eyes light up when they spot the gingerbread cookies on display. You turn your head to face her, offering a shy smile that sends butterflies into her stomach. Walking up to the counter, you realize that you aren’t holding hands anymore so you slowly link your pinky with hers, hoping that she’ll get the message. As she orders your guys’ drinks and a gingerbread cookie for you, she feels your finger hook on to hers. While the barista finalizes the order, Wanda releases your pinky finger, only to reattach her hand to yours, interlocking fingers once more. 

After paying, you opt to sit at a table next to a large window with plants placed along the windowsill. Wanda looks at the outside world, lost in her thoughts as she unconsciously brushes her thumb against your knuckles in a soothing motion. You take this time to commit this moment to memory -- Wanda watching the cars pass by as the golden sunset behind her creates a glowing aura surrounding her body. Spending a few more seconds basking in this quiet moment with her, you realize that you want more than what you have with her. You want to wake up next to her. You want to be the shoulder that she cries on. You want to be the person whose arms hold her up and protect her when she is too tired to do so. You want to be hers. 

Hearing her name being called, Wanda pries her eyes away from the cars and sees you staring at her with eyes full of adoration and love. She gives your hand a light squeeze and promises to be back as she heads to the counter to pick up the drinks and cookie. As she returns with the drinks in hand, you graciously take yours and, with a child-like excitement, ask “Is that for me?” when you notice the gingerbread cookie in her hand. Giggling at your reaction, she tells you yes and slides it over to you. 

 Finding words, I mutter

Tongue-tied, twisted

Foot in mouth, I start to stutter

Ha, ha, Heaven help me

The two of you fall into an effortless conversation that never stops until the café reaches its closing hours. You notice the time and can’t believe that you’ve been talking for nearly three hours with Wanda. As you apologize to the employees for staying so late, Wanda has a fond smile and reaches out for your hand. Grabbing her hand, you step outside and begin your walk back to the compound. For a majority of the walk, it’s quiet with the gentle tapping of your shoes on the sidewalk and occasional car passing by. You keep thinking about Wanda and how much you want to be with her. Wanda glances over, only to see you spaced out, thoughts swirling in your mind. 

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” 

“Aren’t you able to read other people’s minds?” you quip. 

She chuckles and says, “Yes, but I would never read your mind without consent.” You pause, debating on whether or not you should tell her. Noticing your sudden silence, Wanda tilts her head in confusion and stops walking, pulling you back to her. The stop in movement brings you out of your thoughts. You quickly glance down and reach for her hand that’s not being held. Holding both of her hands, you look up to see her eyes, filled with concern. 

“Look, Wans. I-” You sigh and look down at your shoes, unsure of what you want to say. A few moments of silence pass by as you take a deep breath and confess, “Wanda, I really like you. Hell, I might even love you. I love the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh, the way you take care of me and check in on me, the way you control your powers and wield them with such grace. Everything you do, I do adore. And, I just- I...I was wondering if youwouldliketobemygirlfriend?” 

Wanda blinks at you with a dumbfounded expression, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit.” You hesitate, “Well, I- uh, um...Wanda, would you like to be my girlfriend?” After hearing those words, she flashes you a smile brighter than the sun and pulls you in a hug. “Yes, I would love to be yours, Y/N.” You release the breath you didn’t notice you were holding and stay in her embrace, soaking in the warmth radiating from her body. She pulls away slightly and moves to kiss you, pausing and searching your eyes for permission. With a slight nod, you move closer and meet her lips halfway. I really do adore her.

tag list (marvel) - @imnotasuperhero​

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!!! :DD)

[hustle-cat-scenario-fun]

Can I have either headcanons or a scenario about the crew doing up the cafe for Pride month, please?

Of course, anon! I was planning on doing a pride scenario this month anyway! - Admin Avery

Pride month was a time where A Cat's Paw was bustling with activity amongst the staff, even if customers were still slow, as each tried to help provide their skills to set up events and decorations for the celebration. For most of them, this was something they were naturally used to - for Avery, however, the bustle was a bit much and they spent the day flitting between different coworkers to assist in whatever task they had set themselves on.

"Hey, Reese!" they called out as they walked over to the boy sewing together flags, banners, and even outfits - one of them seemed to be sized to Avery's measurements, taken earlier that month. "I told you I'd be fine wearing my hoodie, it's already the nonbinary colours."

Reese's eyes were filled with a disgusted glare at that comment, and his focused expression turned into a disappointed scowl. "You're planning on wearing something that shoddy and worn down for a pride month celebration here? Avery, we have class. I'm sewing you something better." He explained bluntly, pointing out tears and holes in the hoodie that Avery wore essentially every day.

"It's a comfy hoodie..." they argued back, but Reese was having none of it.

"Which is why i'm using fabrics as similar to the texture as possible, but making it more elegant. Now hold still." Another measurement, just to be sure, scribbling down the numbers and adding more material - That's when Finley popped out in her newly designed outfit, fiddling on her phone.

Her makeup and nails were done to look like different pride flags as she flicked through some sites and apps, before taking a selfie, other pictures of things that had been previously set up, and uploading it as part of promotion. She was far too eager to handle the posting of this sort of thing. "Heyhey, sweeties~ Pride Promo posted, we should get busy customers this month all coming in to celebrate! I've booked us some popular people in the area, too. Set up a box for extra stuff that'll all be going to charities to help out people! Oh, Avery, come here quick!" Without much say, they were dragged over by Finley's arm against their will, but willing to help out regardless. "These pamphlets look good to you? One's for finding support groups, the other is trans friendly docs in the area willing to prescribe hormones, got one with notes about where to get stuff like binders and breastforms and all that. Just wanna make sure they're not too hard to read!"

Skimming over the designs, they all looked good! Goodness, Avery hadn't even heard of some of these areas despite them being pretty close, Finley sure knew how to dig deeper into the web for information and locations than they could. Sometimes she found sites that didn't even show up on search engines...

"It looks perfect! Just make sure to get them actually printed, not everyone's going to be able to have them sent digitally." They informed, and quickly Finley rushed out, remembering that physical copies are, in fact, important too.

Mason was focused in the kitchen, and had asked to not be disturbed for the day, but it was tempting regardless - what sort of things was she making for the month? Were the cat donuts iced like flags? Did the meals have a colour coded theme to them? Was she doing a pun-based dish thing like some restaurants? It was hard to tell, until.

"Avery. Kitchen. Now." Stern as always, but she didn't sound mean - more direct than mean. "Yer better at namin' dishes round this time." Ah, so they were somewhat colour coded for some, but others were just needing pun names... Thinking up those would be difficult, but Avery had a perfect idea for the pride cat donuts. "Feline Proud Donuts." Avery chuckled, making use of the similarity between Feline and Feeling, and it was immediately noted down - almost as if there'd be no question to their suggestions. "Uhhh, I'm sure I'll come up with more!." They weren't running on too many ideas today, huh? Mason nodded, and allowed them to go on their way, hoping to find some inspiration sooner.

Also in the kitchen was Hayes, fiddling around with different beverages - teas, coffees, iced teas, frappuccinos, etc. All trying to make them work with different flag colours as much as possible, but the nerves and stress were getting to him a bit, he had needed a break.

"Hey, you doin' okay? I get this is a busy month, take the time you need, yeah?" Avery offered, sitting nearby, but not directly next to the worried boy.

"I just want the drinks to be perfect. It's a lot to worry about for big events." His voice was quiet, barely a whisper and very mumbled, but it got across the sentence to Avery perfectly enough.

"Hayes, you're a coffee snob, the drinks are going to better than perfect." Avery joked, before noticing that might be seen as a rude comment. "Meant in a good way- Like, you have a lot of passion for making it good quality." "I guess... Thanks. I'm gonna take some cat time, if that's okay? Have you seen Graves?" Cat time was essential in busy moments like this, especially for Hayes - that was totally okay.

"Nobody's ever seen Graves. He's probably putting up safety wards to make sure everyone's comfortable and protected when coming here for the event - and Landry's at a friend's garage preparing a pride float with Gina and Kaz for the city's event. You're invited to join the rest of us on that parade day, but I totally get if it's too stressful for you. I can grab some noise cancelling headphones, or whatever else."

"Thanks... I'd like that."

With each of them set on doing their own thing to help celebrate, as well as promote the café as a safe and friendly business, it was a hectic time - but they were going to get through it. While Avery didn't manage to provide much action-based assistance, the moral support and someone there to complain to when things were being difficult setting it up was a huge help to the staff's motivation and determination to get this through without a hitch.

This month was going to be glorious

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

Unsaid Emily

Title: Unsaid Emily - Charlie x Reader

Words: 4,698

Summary: Y/N is one of the songwriters working on Julie and the Phantoms and cowrote Unsaid Emily. When she has to work with Charlie, sparks fly.

Requested: Only by my idiot brain

TW: None

Author’s notes: I mean no offence to the writers of Unsaid Emily, but I needed it to be this way. Also, I know Charlie just got his car, but it fit my timeline.  I hope you like it.

Credit: @nikascott​

Receiving the call from Netflix to write a song for a kids’ TV show about a ghost band, you were hesitant, but your friend Dan talked you into it. You had written as a duo before – you wrote lyrics while he conjured up what you personally considered the most beautiful melodies – but this job was just for you. 

The brief you’d been given by the show runners didn’t give much away. A song for a runaway son to perform for his estranged mother after his death. The only other information given was that his mother’s name is Emily. Usually, you like vague briefs such as this, but without knowing more, you struggle. 

After speaking to one of the showrunners, you’re invited to meet the writers for more information, so you drive down to where the legendary Kenny Ortega is putting the cast through their paces at a band bootcamp. You’ve worked with Kenny before, so when you arrive, he welcomes you with a smile and a hug before the two of you disappear to discuss the song you’re struggling with. 

“Why don’t I introduce you to Charlie who’s playing Luke. He’s had intensive discussions with the writers and myself about his character and may have some insight on what kind of things Luke would want to say to his mom.” Kenny suggests rather than only speaking to the writers. 

“That would be great, but only if you can spare him for a few minutes.” 

“It’s not a problem. Hey, come and grab some lunch with me, I’ll introduce you, and then you can get the information you need.” You loved Kenny and wanted to write the best possible song for his show you could. Standing, you grab your bag before following him out and over to catering. 

As soon as Kenny enters the large room, he’s called out to and waved at. With a wide smile, he responds to everyone as the two of you grab some food and sit at an empty table. While you eat, you discuss the show, and Kenny’s hopes for it. 

“It may be aimed at a younger demographic, but I want it to appeal to all ages.” He stated as you’re joined by a group of kids so good looking, they can only be the cast. “Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s one of the songwriters we’ve commissioned. Charlie, once you’ve finished up with lunch, could you spare her ten minutes to chat with her about Luke?” The cast members all say hi before returning to their food. It’s clear to you they’re all creating friendships as they laugh together. But Charlie isn’t getting involved as he looks at you. You can’t help but stare at the actor as his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a small smile on his face as he nods. 

“Sure, no problem.” He smiles wider and you almost choke on your food. Kenny looks over at you, a strange smile on his face. 

:: :: 

“Hi, you needed to talk to me?” Charlie moves along the table once everyone has left to get back to work. You look over at him, noticing how young he looks. From what Kenny’s told you about the cast, you’re not much older than him, but with his short hair and boyish smile, he looks a lot younger than he is. 

“Hey, yeah. I just want some insight into the character of Luke.” 

“Which song are you writing?” He asks, genuinely interested. He leans his chin on his hand waiting for you to answer. 

“The one he writes for his mom after he runs away.” 

“Oh, wow. Tough break.” You can’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

You pull a notebook out of you bag and open it to a page where you’d scribbled some questions about the character. 

For half an hour, the two of you sit, chatting about the show, about Charlie’s character, and by the time you finish up, you’re pretty satisfied that you can head home and make the song work. After thanking Charlie for his time, you pack your notebook away, ready to go out to your car and drive home. 

“Do you fancy coming and watching a rehearsal before you leave?” He asks, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You really shouldn’t, you need to get back home to start working, but you’re intrigued by him. Throughout your talk, you were impressed with the passion he has for both music and acting, but more than anything, the character he’s going to be portraying. 

“Sure, but I can’t stay long. I have a song to write for you.” You grin as you follow him out of catering and into the rehearsal space. Immediately, Kenny calls you over where he’s sat with the young girl playing the lead role. She’s listening to a piece of music you don’t recognize. 

“All good?” He asks when you join him. 

“Great. I should be able to get a rough cut over to you by the end of the week. Is that okay?” 

“Fabulous, I look forward to hearing what you come up with. Ready to see these amazing kids rock out before you go?” 

“Am I ever.” 

“Guys, let’s run through Now or Never.” Kenny calls out. Charlie and his bandmates grab their instruments while the young girl you now know as Madison turns the music off and leaves the stage area. 

As the three guys rock out, you can’t help but watch Charlie. He’s a natural lead singer who commands the stage, even in rehearsal, and you know his fanbase is going to explode once the show airs. You take note of his singing range, mentally adding it to the notes you made earlier. 

“Kenny, you’re onto a winner with this show,” you tell the director as the song ends. “I’m gonna head out and get started. I’ll let you know once we have something for you.” 

Kenny hugs you before turning his attention back to the actors and starts directing them to lead into another track as you exit the room. As you reach your car, you hear footsteps behind you. 

“Y/N, are you leaving?” You turn to see Charlie standing behind you. 

“I have a song to write, the final one y’all need if I might add.” You smile at him, pulling your keys out of your bag. 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” 

“Well, I better make it a great track then, huh?” Your words made Charlie grin widely again and you couldn’t help but think how beautiful it was. 

“You’re the only one to ask about the characters, so I have no doubt it’ll be amazing.” 

His words didn’t surprise you. You were a bit of a method songwriter, needing to get into the correct headspace when writing emotional songs. 

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.” You bit at your lip as the ever-familiar seed of doubt began to grow in your mind. It happened every time, but you always managed to ignore it. 

“I’m sure you won’t. Hey, I was wondering if you’d let me hear it before you send it to Kenny.” That did surprise you. You’d been hired by Netflix, yet the lead actor was asking you to share something with him first. 

“Er… I’m not sure if I’m allowed. I mean, what if they don’t like it and don’t use it?” 

“Oh, right. Okay. Anyway, it was nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for you to shake. When your hand was in his, he lifted it and placed a soft kiss against your knuckles. A flicker of heat shot up your arm and your eyes shot to lock onto his. Judging by how wide they were, he’d felt it too. Eventually, you withdrew your hand from his, even though you didn’t particularly want to. 

“You too. Good luck with the show.” Unlocking your car, you climbed in, and started the engine. With one last look at Charlie as you pulled the door closed, you forced yourself to pull out of the parking lot and drive away. 

:: ::

          |@charles_gillespie started following you

 You stared at the notification on your Instagram account. It had been two days since your trip to meet up with Kenny and the cast – well, Charlie in particular – and you’d been working hard on the song. Intrigued, you clicked onto his profile and scrolled through his photos. He clearly loved the outdoors and spent a lot of time hiking or camping. You can’t help but smile when you see photos of him with his family and friends. 

You follow him back and put your phone down to pick your guitar back up to continue working. 

         |@charles_Gillespie sent you a message 

Hey 

Hi 

The app indicated Charlie was typing, then he wasn’t, then typing again, but no message came through. Shrugging, you put your phone back down and continued working. You had a title, a melody, and had almost finished the lyrics. It was full of emotion and if asked, you’d totally admit you had cried more than once while writing it. 

How’s the song coming? Another message from Charlie. It made you smile, but you needed to finish working. You turned your phone off and focused. 

Finally, the song was finished. All you needed to do was to record a rough cut to send over to Kenny and the writer so they could see if it needed any amendments before sending over the final version along with the chords and lyrics. You head into the tiny studio you have set up in your apartment and record the song. It takes three takes for you to get through it without crying, but once you do, you send it straight over and stop working for the night. 

Turning your phone back on, it buzzes insanely with a slew of notifications. Friends checking up on you, your parents inviting you to dinner, an email from Kenny telling you they love the rough cut and asking you to send a cleaner copy tomorrow, and a couple of messages from Charlie on Instagram. Now you’re able to respond properly, you open the app. 

Sorry if I’m disturbing you. 

I hope the song’s going well. 

Hey, sorry. I turned my phone off while I was finishing up. Kenny has the rough cut, so I’m about to chill out and watch a movie. Hope all is well at bootcamp. 

You worry the message you reply with is overly formal, but it’s too late as it’s showing as being seen. You busy yourself making some food and picking out a movie to watch. Settling on your couch to watch the first To All the Boys movie, your phone begins to buzz. 

Charlie 👅🍀

Instagram video 

With a slightly trembling finger, you accept the call and soon Charlie’s face fills half of your screen. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he smiles brightly at you. 

“Hey.” You’re a little confused about why he’s calling you, but you decide to go with it. 

“Kenny played me the rough cut of Unsaid Emily. I just wanted to tell you it’s beautiful and I can’t wait to sing it.” 

“Thanks, I’m glad everyone seems to like it.” 

“Y/N, we didn’t just like it, we all loved it. So many people were crying when they heard it.” 

“I would apologize, but my mom taught me not to tell lies.” His laugh burst out of the speaker on your phone. 

“Don’t, it’s great. It’s gonna be a great addition to the show.” 

You grab the remote for the TV to turn the volume down as the film you’d picked to watch was starting. 

“Hey, what movie are you watching?” he asks when you apologize for the interruption. 

“Oh, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” You can’t help but notice he scrunches up his face, and you also can’t help but notice how adorable it looks. “What was that face for?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be a chick flick kinda girl…” 

“Oh, I don’t watch it for the story.” You can’t help but laugh as he tries to work out what you mean. 

“What’s the point of watching it then?” 

“Because Noah Centineo’s pretty to look at.” You don’t add the fact he’s not as pretty as Charlie. It’s not exactly something you can admit on a first Instagram video call – not that you’re expecting there to be more. 

“I’m not going to disagree, but is he prettier than me?” You laugh and roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m not going to answer that question on the grounds that I barely know you.” 

“I can see you blushing, Y/N. I think you think I’m prettier, but don’t want to admit it to my face.” He’s full on laughing now and you can’t help but join in. 

“Carry on teasing me, I’ll end this call.” You threaten, making his eyes widen slightly. 

“I’m sorry. So, tell me about yourself?” You see him getting comfortable on what looks like a bed. He’s soon lying sideways on the screen in front of you. You decide to mimic him, propping your phone against a glass candle holder on the table next to you. You lie on your side facing both your phone and the TV. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Well, for starters, how old are you?” 

“I’m twenty-five. You?” 

“Twenty-one.” 

For two hours, the two of you throw questions back and forth as the movie comes to an end without you noticing. 

“Do you think you’ll come to set?” He asks you, surprising you. 

“I think it’s doubtful. Once I record a cleaner version of Unsaid Emily, my job’s done. I’m not needed anymore.” 

“Oh…” Did you detect a hint of disappointment in his voice? No, you didn’t. 

“Well, this has been fun, Charles Jeffrey Gillespie, but I have an appointment in the morning, and I really need to get some sleep.” You sit up, take hold of your phone, and walk out of the lounge to your bedroom. 

“Taking me to bed, already? Haven’t even had to buy you dinner.” Charlie jokes, making you roll your eyes at him. “Okay. Maybe we can do this again? Bootcamp lasts for a while longer yet, then we’re going to film in Vancouver.” 

“That would be great. And thanks again for being nice about the song.” You both say your goodbyes and once the call has ended, you collapse back on to your bed, unsure exactly what has happened. 

:: :: 

It’s been three months since you had Unsaid Emily accepted by the show, and in that time you and Charlie have video called on Instagram a few times, but you’re both crazy busy. You’re working on a score for a videogame while he’s finished up with bootcamp and has relocated to Vancouver to start filming. The entire time, neither of you suggested meeting up even though you both lived in L.A. 

You’re just leaving your parent’s home when your phone rings in your bag. Not recognizing the number on screen, you debate not answering it, but brush your thumb across the screen anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N? It’s Kenny. Are you okay to talk?” 

“Hi Kenny, I’ve always got time for you.” You hear him laugh down the phone. “What can I do for you Mr. Ortega?” 

“I was wondering, because you did such a great job with Unsaid Emily, if you’d like to come on set to watch it being filmed? See how we’ve adapted it?” Well, that wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“I’d love to. When do you film?” 

“The day after tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s all so last minute, but I’ve been busy.” 

“I can just about manage it. I’ll book a flight when I get back home, then I’ll message you for directions to the studio.” 

“Sounds great. See you soon, and I really think you’ll love what we’ve done with the song.” You reassure him you will and end the call and get into your car to drive home. 

After juggling a few things around, you’re able to book a flight to Vancouver for the next afternoon. When You message Kenny, he reassures you there’ll be a car waiting for you. You decide to book a hotel for two nights and a flight back the next day. You’ve never been to a TV set, and don’t know how long these things take. As you pack an overnight bag, you realize you’re excited, not only about seeing your work come to life, but seeing Charlie again, in the flesh. 

:: :: 

Arriving in Vancouver, you walked through the airport and out into the arrivals lounge, looking for the driver Kenny had sent to pick you up. You were able to bypass having to wait for your luggage thanks to only having a small carry-on bag so made it through the crowds pretty quickly. When you emerged, you saw a row of drivers holding signs, but none had your name on. Deciding to find somewhere to sit and call Kenny, you move past the drivers in black suits. Directly in front of you is Charlie wearing a wide grin. 

“Hey you. Moonlighting as a chauffeur to make ends meet?” You tease as you approach him. He surprises you by pulling you into a hug. 

“It’s weird not seeing your face on a small screen.” He jokes as he leads you outside, taking your bag from you. You can’t help but notice he’s been working out and his biceps are looking impressive. Well, you knew he had anyway thanks to his constant posting on Instagram, and from your video calls, but seeing it up close makes your mouth go dry. 

“I’ve had to put make-up on. No filters in real life, Gillespie.” He rolled his eyes at you as he unlocked his car, an orange Nissan Juke.

 “Some car there…” You struggle to hold in a laugh and his mock hurt look. 

“Look, it may not be pretty, but it’s great for camping and heading out of town to go hiking.” He was almost pouting when he finished speaking. 

“Okay, okay. I give in.” you climb into the car. “Why aren’t you on set?” 

“I wasn’t needed for a couple of hours, so I offered to come and meet you. I have to be back once you’re checked in at your hotel. Sorry it’s a bit of a rush.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I can go out sightseeing while you’re working hard.” You grin at him. “I’ve never been to Vancouver, or Canada, before.” 

“You’ve clearly lived a very sheltered life.” He’s teasing so you just stick your tongue out at him before turning your attention out of the window as Charlie maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. “Have you even left California?” Again with the teasing. 

“Not only have I left the state, but I’ve also even left the country.” 

“That’s cool, where did you go?” 

“I studied in London for a year, then I backpacked around Europe for another, before coming home and becoming a functioning member of society.” 

“That’s actually pretty awesome. I’d love to do that, just travel around for a year and get to see so many amazing places.” There’s a look in his eyes you recognize. Wanderlust. 

Before long, Charlie’s pulling up outside your hotel and helping you out of the car. 

“I would make sure you get checked in okay, but I need to jet. I’m sorry, shall we meet up later, I can introduce you to the rest of the cast.” 

“That would be great. Message me so I know when to be ready and where to meet y’all.” He agrees, places a soft kiss against your cheek and gets back into the car. You watch him drive away before going to check in. 

:: :: 

When you took the job of writing a song for a TV show, you never expected to find yourself out to dinner with the cast of said show, watching them do karaoke. All of them have included you, which made you feel as if you’re part of their circle, despite their many in jokes and stories from set. Madison greeted you like an old friend, telling you she’d head a lot about you from Charlie. That surprised you because you hardly knew him beyond the few video calls you’d had. 

“He talks about you all the time, and Owen says he can hear his side of the conversations. He teases him about it all the time.” You stare at her, confused. 

“That’s crazy. We hardly know each other.” 

“Doesn’t stop feelings from happening.” She laughs at you, before dragging you up to perform with her. 

The entire evening is a blast, but you all have to call it a night early thanks to their early call to set. You plan to call an uber back to your hotel, but Charlie insists on making sure you get back safe. As you say goodbye to the others, Madison give you a look you don’t even attempt to try and decipher. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had a great time. You’re lucky you guys are so close.” You tell Charlie as your uber moves through the dark streets. 

“Yeah, they’re great and we’re like a family. I know it sounds corny and cliché, but it’s the truth. I think that’s why Kenny set up bootcamp. It makes going to work so much easier.” 

Silence falls over you, but it’s a comfortable one, and all too soon, you’re pulling up outside your hotel. 

“Thanks for making sure I got back safe.” You say as you get ready to climb out of the car. Charlie surprises you by following you. “Oh, you don’t need to see me inside, I’m a big girl.” 

“I know, but my mom would kill me if I didn’t. I was taught to make sure pretty girls got home safe.” You laugh but are filled with warmth at him calling you pretty. 

“I bet you use that line on all the girls.” You give him a nudge with your shoulder which makes him laugh. 

“Not really.” He holds out his elbow for you to tuck your hand through as he walks into the building. 

Once you’re outside your room, you turn to face him and thank him for inviting you out again. 

“It was a pleasure. I just hope you had a good time.” 

“I really did. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

“Yeah, see you.” 

:: :: 

The following morning, you’re up at what feels like the crack of dawn. You’re regretting the shots you had the night before as you climb into an uber to head over to the studio. The closer you get, the more excited you become. You’ve seen your songs brought to life on screen before, but you’ve never been there for the filming. 

As you climb out of your car, you hear someone call out your name. You turn to see Madison and her dad walking toward you. 

“Hey Y/N. How are you feeling after last night?” She asks, giggling slightly. You’re more than a little jealous of the fact she’s a minor and is unable to drink any alcohol. 

“A bit delicate, but nothing a strong coffee won’t cure.” You smile as she introduces you to her dad as the three of you walk inside. They stay with you as you’re signed in and given a visitor’s pass. 

“What do you know about this scene you’re watching today?” Madison asks you as you follow her through the hallways. 

“Not a lot if I’m honest. I know a little background to the song and Luke as a character, but nothing else.” 

“Woah, you’re in for a treat. I hope you didn’t wear any eye make-up.” Mr. Reyes laughs at his daughter’s words as you reach the catering tent. The aroma of coffee is calling you. “Well, I’ll see you soon, I’m first in hair and make-up.” The young girl gives you a tight hug and leaves you to fuel your need for caffeine. 

By the time you’ve finished your drink, and a bagel, the tent is filling up around you. You spot Kenny entering and he makes a beeline for you. 

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again.” 

“Thanks for having me. I’m honored to be invited. I know this is a bit unusual.” 

“Honey, you don’t need to thank me. It was this guy’s idea.” He stepped aside to reveal Charlie, in full Luke costume. 

“Oh…” 

:: :: 

Standing next to Kenny, you’re silent as the opening bars to your song start to play. A lump has already gathered in your throat as you watch Charlie as Luke singing to his mother who can’t see him. You knew it was an emotional song, but hearing it sung live and in context of the show, you can’t quite believe it’s yours. 

You know they have some scenes to film that will be cut into the scene, but you can’t help being mesmerized by the tone of Charlie’s voice as he sings a song of regret. 

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as rounds a corner of the set, belting out the final pre chorus, the rasp to his voice, and tears flowing down his face. Kenny takes a look at you and grabs hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“You did good.” He compliments you. Wiping at your eyes, hoping your mascara isn’t running, you shake your head. 

“No, that was all him.” Once filming’s over, you make an excuse to Kenny and head outside for some fresh air. You’re feeling overwhelmed and in awe of what they’ve done with your song. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie’s voice is soft as he walks up to stand next to you. 

“I’m fine, just a bit overwhelmed. I never expected it to… to be that good.” You realize you could have offended him and begin to stumble over your words. “Not that I mean… you’ve got an amazing voice, and you injected so much hurt and pain into the song. It sounded better than I ever imagined it to.” 

You feel like a bumbling idiot and turn away from Charlie so he can’t see the embarrassment on your face. He moves to stand directly in front of you, using his hand to gently lift your chin so you have nowhere else to look but directly into his eyes. 

“If the song wasn’t right, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I just did, so it’s all on you too.” It feels as if his hazel eyes are looking deep into your soul. 

“Thank you.” You finally accept a compliment, making him smile. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“Why did you ask for me to be here today?” 

“Because the moment I heard the rough cut of Unsaid Emily I felt it was only right you be here. There something in your lyrics and melody that will truly have an affect on the audience, and I felt you needed to see that for yourself.” He suddenly let go of you and looked away. 

“Why do I feel like there’s an ‘and’ coming?” 

“And… the moment I heard that rough cut, I needed to know more about you. That’s why I followed you on Insta and started the video calls. I needed to know you.” 

You don’t know what to say, not that there’s time for you to. Charlie looks back at you, places his hands on your waits, and bends his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It’s quick, but gets your pulse racing. He pulls away, slowly. 

“Is Noah Centineo still prettier than me?” 

You laugh before crushing your lips against is again, this time not so softly.

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Tags: @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @xplrreylo​

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