#just. the idea of Bailey getting through to this bird

[a-concert-just-for-me]

It’s literally almost 4 in the morning and I’m still thinking about the potential Waffle TheOwlHouse has as a plot device

[cuubism]

A heist for a crown for a king? 🤔👑

yes. dream deserves a crown. dream insists he doesn't need a crown, everybody knows he is king. also he has his helm. hob says how many times i gotta tell you it's not about NEEDING it. it's about how fucking sexy you'll look. that's the priority. also you deserve it. dream is still flummoxed.

may i propose a DREAM heist for a DREAM crown.

--

Hob was... definitely going to get in trouble for this.

"We're definitely going to get in trouble for this," said Matthew, perched on his shoulder. He tittered nervously. And Matthew was one of the most ride-or-die people-- birds?-- Hob had ever met, so this was not a good sign. "Like. Getting my wings cut off trouble."

"He's not going to cut your fucking wings off, Jesus Christ," said Hob. He crept through the dreamspace, keeping to the shadows so as to try to avoid alerting the dream itself to their presence. "Drawing and quartering is a lot more entertaining."

"HOB. What the fuck." Matthew's claws dug into his skin like he really did mean to separate Hob's arm from his shoulder.

Hob shrugged. "Didn't live through 'ye olde medieval times,' as you put it, for nothing."

"I didn't call it that."

"Yeah, you did. That's what I get for agreeing to watch A Knight's Tale, I suppose."

Matthew squawked. "It's a good movie!"

"It was a good movie right up until it managed to convince you that "We Will Rock You" was actually sung at jousts," said Hob.

"In my defense--" started Matthew, then clacked his beak shut. "Nah, actually, I don't have a defense for that. I must have been totally sloshed."

Hob snorted. "Oh, you were."

"Well, who decided it was a good idea to feed Bailey's to a raven?"

"There was no point at which I thought it was a good decision," said Hob. He couldn't help his grin. "I just don't mind making a bad one."

"And here I thought we were friends."

Hob slipped through a doorway, ducking around the next corner. The dream castle was significantly more winding than a real one. It was slow going.

He started humming to himself, an incongruously jaunty old execution ballad. "His quarters stand not all together, But ye mai hap to ring them thether..."

"I'm begging you to stop," said Matthew. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a serious problem?"

Hob laughed. "Many times."

A small group of people -- figments of the dreamscape -- strode around the corner. Hob ducked into a tiny alcove, one which hadn't been there before he'd thought of needing it. He was gradually getting better at manipulating the Dreaming.

And his heart was hammering. Dream theft or not, it was thrilling.

"Never thought I'd be part of fucking Inception," grumbled Matthew, peering to see if it was all clear.

Hob crept back out into the hall and up a spiral staircase. "This is way more fun than Inception."

"And way more dangerous."

"You loved the last outing!"

"Yeah, that one didn't involve sneaking around in my boss's subconscious."

Hob rolled his eyes. "It's not Dream's subconscious." Finally at the center of the absolute maze that was the castle, he spied his prize, and slipped right through the bulletproof glass to get at it. On a stand at the center of the room sat the most gorgeous tiara, a winding thing of diamond leaves and ruby berries. He grinned. "It's the Princess's."

He swiped the thing from its stand, leaving a weight in its place for the pressured alarm he was sure still existed even in a dream.

"Dream is the Dreaming, dude. We're gonna get caught."

"Well, that's why you're here, isn't it? It's normal for you to be in dreams, it's not for me. You're my cover. You'll make it way less likely for Dream to--"

And they were yanked from the dream.

"Drawn and quartered!" Matthew squeaked, and then they were standing in the throne room.

Dream was, of course, standing a few steps up on the grand staircase, glaring at them. Glaring at Hob, really. Matthew squawked again in fright, puffing up his feathers. Hob just grinned back at Dream.

"When I gave you free run of the Dreaming," Dream started, some of the menace Hob had heard him use with rogue nightmares on display, "this was not what I meant."

Hob wasn't afraid of Dream, though. Never had been. "Don't take it out on Matthew," he said. "Wasn't his idea."

Dream's stormy gaze flickered over to Matthew. "Matthew, you are dismissed. I will deal with you later."

Matthew didn't need to be told twice. He winged away out of the throne room, calling back, "Good luck with getting drawn and quartered, Hob!"

Dream raised an eyebrow. He still looked dreadfully unamused. "Drawn and quartered?"

"We've watched too many medieval movies," Hob explained.

"Ah." His gaze found the tiara clasped in Hob's hand. "What, exactly, is that?"

He obviously knew. It was made of dream stuff, after all. Still, Hob knelt and held it out to him. "For my liege."

Dream strode down the few steps separating them, fluid as water streaming over a fall, his long cloak trailing behind him. Majestic creature. Majestic king. Did he really expect Hob to be at all normal about it?

Dream plucked the tiara from Hob's hands. He tilted it back and forth. The light through the stained glass illuminated it in every color imaginable and cast refracted rainbows on his face. "You stole it from a dream."

Hob flashed him a crooked grin. "Guilty."

Dream tipped his head up with one fingertip under his chin, until Hob's neck was craned back and he was meeting his gaze. "That," he drawled, his eyes flashing dark, "is very disrespectful."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes." Dream didn't release Hob's chin; if anything, he leaned closer so Hob had to look up even further. "Did you think you would not be caught? Creeping around in my halls?"

"We'll, I'm very good," Hob said. This was hardly the first thing he'd stolen for Dream, though it was the first one he'd attempted in the Dreaming.

"Or perhaps," continued Dream, and the darkness in his eyes looked hungry, now, though no less dangerous. "Perhaps, you wanted to be caught."

Hob winked at him, cheeks heating. "Well. I may be good, but I could hardly expect you not to feel it when it's your skirts I was rustling under."

"Is that what you were doing?" Dream swept his thumb along Hob's lip, dipping into his mouth. "Fiending for punishment?"

"Just trying to please my lord. Are you pleased, my love?"

"That is not quite the word I would use, dearest one." A sharp smile was creeping its way onto his lips, eyes burning with a dark warmth, like smoldering coals.

He placed the tiara on Hob's head.

Shadows dripped from it, falling over Hob's shoulders and back. Dream's hands lingered at Hob's temples, stroking his hair back behind his ears.

"Devoted one." His voice rumbled pleasantly through Hob's body, and Hob shivered. "Mischievous one. What am I to do with you?"

"Only whatever you want," said Hob, leaning into his touch. "As usual."

"Hmm. I think..."

Shadows fell around the throne room, dropped from the ceiling like banners and speckled like blackened stars. Hob knew those shadows, knew the way they were meant to intimidate though they did nothing but make him want more, make him hungrier, make him want to hold Dream close in every meaning of the word.

And he knew that bright darkness in his lover's eyes, too. The sky during an eclipse.

Dream drew him back to his feet. Hob stumbled in so they were a breath apart.

"Whatever prize you were seeking when you embarked on this foolhardy task?" Dream hummed, just before pulling Hob in to meet his lips. "I think you should claim it."

[snootlestheangel]

I would pay you my two kidneys for wolf!Simon licking and grooming otter!kyle

🫶

many please and many thanks

I won't take the kidneys but I'll take some cold chocolate cake to make me feel better about losing all the progress I had made very slowly throughout the day because now the first part is slightly different than it originally was supposed to be and I'm very upset now (which is why it ended up taking me like 2 weeks to get this done I'm so sorry 🥲)

Ghost definitely grooms everyone he can. He's learned not to lick Soap when he's shifted, otherwise he has to deal with a very upset bird. So what he does instead is lays his head down near where Soap is and sighs while licking his lips. Sometimes Soap will tease him by grooming himself, which usually leads to a husky level of dramatic tantrum. Nik and Price tolerate it, but Price laughs every time he sees their adopted daughter Bailey, a cat shifter, looking very angry with wolf slobber on her.

Granted, she's the one he's the most gentle with, and it's a form of bonding.

Enough yapping, here's the good soup.

Tagging @stuffireadandenjoy @bringinsexybackk69 (anyone else that wants tagged for this au please let me know. Even though this may not be an actual formal fic for a while its still gonna be something that stays consistent on my blog for at least a while)

The first time since the team's formation, the boys finally had some downtime. As shifters, they were familiar with the idea that the others would have different behaviors and quirks related to their respective species. It was rather easy for them to adjust to casual life together, yet for the most part, they still didn't understand where different boundaries were. Excluding their captain, they were all social creatures, yet bonded in different ways, and expressed their companionship in different ways. There was a good week where the sergeants and Ghost had awkwardly danced around each other as they learned individual boundaries.

Unfortunately for Gaz, Soap and Ghost had already formed a bond, something unique forged during their time in Las Almas. It wasn't surprising, actually. Gaz had heard stories of wild ravens and wolves forming close bonds, seeming friendships, and that sort of relationship was evident in Soap and Ghost. The two had quickly learned that Ghost didn't mind having his personal space invaded, much to Soap and Gaz's shock, and they learned Soap rather enjoyed sitting perched on Ghost any way he could. It was not an entirely uncommon sight to see a large Raven sitting on Ghost's shoulder as the lieutenant went about his daily duties.

But Gaz wasn't so lucky. He was an Otter, a seemingly oddball addition to the team. Bear, Wolf, and Raven all seemed to just work, it made sense. It's not like Gaz felt rejected, in fact he could see the desperation to include him on Soap’s face, the passing huffs from Ghost that Gaz never truly understood the meanings of.

So it's why Gaz was so grateful to have a space to himself where he could shift and take time for himself. The pool reserved for him was hidden away from the main portion of base, surrounded by a sprinkling of trees and a tall, thick fence for privacy. He spent a long afternoon doing laps around the pool, ducking through the tunnels placed inside, and jumping onto the platform along the far side. It kept him active, and after having been out of the water in proper otter fashion for far too long, it was stimulating. Something exciting and different from the dull thrum of life on base.

And nothing was better after a long afternoon swim session than heading to the nearby concrete pad and sunbathe after grooming himself. But as he approached his concrete pad, he noticed a glaring problem. A large Wolf was laying sprawled out on his side, soaking up every inch of sun.

Annoyed, Gaz ran up to Ghost's tail and lightly tapped it with his front paws, an annoyed squeal accompanying the action. The tail flicked but Ghost showed no other sign of acknowledging the otter's annoyance. So, Gaz moved on to attacking Ghost's large back paws, only earning a small grumble and slight kick. Desperation kicked in as Gaz hopped towards Ghost's head, and he jumped onto the Wolf's large head and nipped his ear. Ghost sat up with a start, and Gaz backed away to glare at the other as best he could. Gaz squealed and bobbed his head up and down in the most threatening way he could. Ghost stared down at him, mostly bored, before letting out a grumble, a yawn quick to follow. Gaz's efforts to chase him off must have been falling on deaf ears, or Ghost was lost in thought as he just watched the otter's antics. With a single swipe of his tongue, Ghost effectively silenced Gaz, pacifying him just like the otter were a wolf pup.

Gaz couldn't tell what made him angrier: the audacity Ghost had to treat him like a pup, or the fact it worked.

Gaz couldn't even think as Ghost continued to lick him. Well, lick wasn't the best term to describe the situation, it was more grooming behavior than anything else. And Gaz had quickly realized it had been too long since someone else had groomed him. He slowly curled against Ghost as the Wolf continued to groom him, using his teeth to gentle nibble Gaz's sore muscles. The repetitive motions were slowly putting Gaz to sleep, and he had rolled over onto his back. To think he had been so worried about fitting in with the other two's social circle, yet he had completely forgotten that he wasn't the only one to social groom. By the time his coat was dry, Gaz had fallen asleep between Ghost's front paws, and the Wolf had gently rested his head against the otter as he fell back asleep.

Gaz had nothing to worry about, after all.

[sparkedblaze]

tell about au, making grabby hands for au

I mean

Since you asked

This is essentially becoming an influencer au

And honestly

It works

Below the cut-

✔️= verified

Jack✔️

Arting Around: Speedpaints, how-to-draw x, stupid videos with friends (brothers vs boyfriend who knows me better?, nerf wars, blind hide and seek)

Been There Done That: Joint channel with Davey. Traveling, doing wild shit, usually featuring many of their friends

Davey✔️

In college for business or marketing to make sure he knows how to do what’s best to keep them successful

Dave in the Life: Multiple videos a week just vlogging the domestic side of his and Jack’s relationship

Been There Done That: Joint channel with Jack. Traveling, doing wild shit, usually featuring many of their friends

Blink

Jack’s editor. He and Davey work together a lot. V close friends.

Also helps Mush edit his videos.

Cameo (along with Mush) in some (if not all) of BTDT videos

Doesn’t have his own channel bc he spends too much time helping the others with theirs (and also doesn’t really want the spotlight)

Mush✔️

Gymnast. Does cool tricks and flips. Post to every platform out there (including tumblr. Goes undercover in his friends’ fandoms on all of them)

Mush Meyers: He used to have a super cool or funny channel name, but he recently rebranded and just realized he was enough as is. He didn’t have to be Tumblingthroughlife, he was Nick Meyers. And that was enough. Though, he does prefer to have an online name of Mush, so he can kind of separate his online presence from his real life. He always gets someone to film his routines, and that’s mainly what he posts. He’s also done some streams that’ll have the names of all the tricks he can do on screen, and the first 15-20 people to donate x amount of money get to make a routine for him. He also does charity live streams, people donate and they get a hint as to where he is, and he’ll hide in a place around town. The first person to find him gets to donate whatever he’s earned to the charity of their choice. He personally doubles whatever’s been earned. It usually takes at least an hour for someone to find him. If it takes them longer than that, he’ll triple the earnings instead.

Racetrack✔️

Twitch streamer

Racetrack Higgins: He got the idea for his name after dominating at Mario Kart. Streams games almost nightly (doesn’t stream at least twice a week so he doesn’t get burnt out, but the days change depending on who’s free at what times)

Jojo✔️

Also a twitch streamer

JojoPlaysShit: He was too lazy to come up with an actual name when he first made the channel. Likes it too much to change it at this point. Gaming streamer. Plays whatever’s popular now + one game that’s >5 years old. Usually playing 3 games at once and alternates them during streams. Also streams multiplayer games with his friends. King of Mario Party.

Albert

Streams games, very popular. Isn’t verified because he doesn’t care enough to go through all the steps to do it.

Front Page Story: Gaming streamer. King of FPS games (hence the acronym of his name). He’s been featured in several gaming magazines, and some out of the community. Is almost always invited to things like VidCon.

Finch

Streams multiplayer games, but posts more nerf challenges to his youtube than the actual games. Also not verified only because he’s too lazy.

Bird Nest: His channel. Chaotic. There’s no rhyme or reason to what he posts. The only consistent thing is his schedule. In one week he posts: 1-5 vlogs, 2-3 challenges, and all the games he streamed on twitch with his buddies (the edits are chaos incarnate)

Barney

TikToker

Day to day life in circus performing. BTS and such.

Bailum and Barney: Name comes from a play on Barnum and Bailey. Is only really in it for the fun, doesn’t really care if he gets famous. Has also posted videos of Tommy trying (and failing) to do some of the acts from the show

Tommy

His tiktok is pretty much just a hype man for Barney’s acts for so long. Literally just wants everyone to go and see the show. He thinks it’s so good.

Tommy Boi: Turns from hype account for Barney (though he still def posts hype videos) to a dance account when people see him dancing in the bg of one of Barney’s vids and they just scream

Spot

Isn’t verified bc he’s not popular enough yet. He’s just below the cut off for being verified. He gets so pissed off about it. Jack holds it over his head until he gets there.

He went to the same place as BTDT once, and that’s how he and Racer met. Jack is pissed when he finds out that RACER MADE OUT WITH SPOT FUKCIGN CONLON MY BIGGEST GD RIVAL RACER HOW COULD YOU

Medda ✔️

Older actress. Doesn’t act much anymore, but still an important figure in the industry. Adopted Race, Jack, and Crutchie. Tweets her own tweets, only when the planets are in alignment. Everything else is just retweeting what Jack tweets (usually stuff about her projects, because that boy will tweet about anything Medda does. “Look who I found at the grocery store :000000 @ medlark “ with a selfie of him with her in the bg)

[rockislandadultreads]

New Title Tuesday: Romance Picks

Iris Kelly Doesn't Date by Ashley Herring Blake

Everyone around Iris Kelly is in love. Her best friends are all coupled up, her siblings have partners that are perfect for them, her parents are still in marital bliss. And she’s happy for all of them, truly. So what if she usually cries in her Lyft on the way home. So what if she misses her friends, who are so busy with their own wonderful love lives, they don’t really notice Iris is spiraling. At least she has a brand-new career writing romance novels (yes, she realizes the irony of it). She is now working on her second book but has one problem: she is completely out of ideas after having spent all of her romantic energy on her debut.

Perfectly happy to ignore her problems as per usual, Iris goes to a bar in Portland and meets a sexy stranger, Stefania, and a night of dancing and making out turns into the worst one-night stand Iris has had in her life (vomit and crying are regretfully involved). To get her mind off everything and overcome her writer's block, Iris tries out for a local play, but comes face-to-face with Stefania—or, Stevie, her real name. When Stevie desperately asks Iris to play along as her girlfriend, Iris is shocked, but goes along with it because maybe this fake relationship will actually get her creative juices flowing and she can get her book written. As the two women play the part of a couple, they turn into a constant state of hot-and-bothered and soon it just comes down to who will make the real first move…

This is the third volume of the "Bright Falls" series.

Wreck the Halls by Tessa Bailey

Melody Gallard may be the daughter of music royalty, but her world is far from glamorous. She spends her days restoring old books and avoiding the limelight (one awkward tabloid photo was enough, thanks). But when a producer offers her a lot of money to reunite her mother’s band on live tv, Mel begins to wonder if it’s time to rattle the cage, shake up her quiet life… and see him again. The only other person who could wrangle the rock and roll divas.

Beat Dawkins, the lead singer’s son, is Melody’s opposite—the camera loves him, he could charm the pants off anyone, and his mom is not a potential cult leader. Still, they might have been best friends if not for the legendary feud that broke up the band. When they met as teenagers, Mel felt an instant spark, but it’s nothing compared to the wild, intense attraction that builds as they embark on a madcap mission to convince their mothers to perform one last show.

While dealing with rock star shenanigans, a 24-hour film crew, brawling Santas, and mobs of adoring fans, Mel starts to step out of her comfort zone. With Beat by her side, cheering her on, she’s never felt so understood. But Christmas Eve is fast approaching, and a decades-old scandal is poised to wreck everything—the Steel Birds reunion, their relationships with their mothers, and their newfound love. 

The Witch is Back by Sophie H. Morgan

There’s nothing wrong with being a wallflower. Not to Emmaline Bluewater, anyway. Emma may have been born into witch society, but her days of trying to fit in where she doesn’t belong are over—they ended seven years ago, when the man she’d hoped to marry left town without a word. She’s much happier now, living a delightfully mundane human life in Chicago and running her bar, Toil and Trouble.

Until Bastian Truenote walks through the door and announces that he wants her back.

Bastian had his reasons for leaving—even if he can’t tell Emma what they are. Now, to win Emma’s heart, he’s got to face down an adorably goofy dog familiar, a best friend who’s all too eager to hit him with a carefully aimed hex, and a woman who’s far from the meek witch he remembers.

Magical contracts aren’t easily broken, but as far as Emma’s concerned, not even a marriage of convenience will have her falling under Bastian’s spell again…

10 Things That Never Happened by Alexis Hall

Sam Becker loves―or, okay, likes―his job. Sure, managing a bed and bath retailer isn't exactly glamorous, but it's good work and he gets on well with the band of misfits who keep the store running. He could see himself being content here for the long haul. Too bad, then, that the owner is an infuriating git.

Jonathan Forest should never have hired Sam. It was a sentimental decision, and Jonathan didn't get where he is by following his heart. Determined to set things right, Jonathan orders Sam down to London for a difficult talk…only for a panicking Sam to trip, bump his head, and maybe accidentally imply he doesn't remember anything?

Faking amnesia seemed like a good idea when Sam was afraid he was getting sacked, but now he has to deal with the reality of Jonathan's guilt―as well as the unsettling fact that his surly boss might have a softer side to him. There's an unexpected freedom in getting a second shot at a first impression…but as Sam and Jonathan grow closer, can Sam really bring himself to tell the truth, or will their future be built entirely on one impulsive lie?

This is the first volume of the "Material World" series.

[acaciapines]

125 for the song ask thingy?

Bodega Run – Crying

“i still think we should destroy them,” alma says, turning up her nose as she kneads her shadowy paws against amity’s shoulder, her tail whipping back-and-forth as she and amity wait at the crosswalk with luz and mari. alma’s nose crinkles as she hisses out, “cars.”

“honestly, you probably could.” luz’s voice is light as she elbows her girlfriend, snickering. “you and gus got real close last week. mami was just about ready to break down, i think. whoever gave gus his license made a terrible, terrible mistake.”

“bailey is sometimes responsible,” amity says, as alma bares her teeth to the car passing by, speeding through the yellow light. a moment after it’s their turn to walk, and amity makes intense eye-contact with the blinkers of the cars.

“i promise you they aren’t alive,” mari says, flitting over as an oilbird to nudge her head against alma’s. “and if they were, your magic would be more than enough to tear it in two.”

“that’s not what king says.” but amity drops her glare once they’ve made it across the road. “i don’t understand why you don’t just fly everywhere.”

“well.” luz begins counting off on her fingers. “lack of any animals large enough to fly. a continent that’s a billion times bigger than the titan so even flight can take days. a whole culture in which being an adult and having a daemon able to change forms are contradictory ideas.”

“also,” says mari, “we built airplanes, so.”

amity considers this for a moment. “we should destroy airplanes as well.”

luz breaks into giggles, and squeezes amity’s hand.

Commentary

another song i forgot was on my playlist wahoo!!!

okay so i think its SO funny if witches are just like. cars make No Sense to them bc all their machinery is powered by magic (think like, the airships) which is very much alive maybe not exactly like a witch is but yknow what i mean, and so something like a CAR that is made out of dead things and barrels down ROADS?? what the fuck is THAT all about?? witches have no concepts of highways. post-canon as coven symbols are removed and as they learn more about historical witch society its like, none of this was needed, yknow?

bc like, the titan is pretty small, all things considered, and even with belos witch kids settled closer to 18 than 12--thats a good 18 years of using 'my palisman turning into a big bird' as a transportation method, and that was the historical way people got around and belos couldnt ENTIRELY get rid of that concept at least in the collective mind. and magic makes the longer distances like, way more understandable even once most adults have to change, and their technology very much interacts with and is based on the magic of the isles--it works with the world in a way a car very much doesnt.

AND PLUS luz's friends are introduced to cars with king and sraf (collector), both of whom are eight years old, have never seen a car in their lives, and can see dust. of which cars have Literally None, and roads tend to cut directly through established dust-patterns which is also what belos did <3. so uhhhh cars are somewhat of an eldritch horror to them.

basically um. lumity date but the entire time amity and alma are SO OFFENDED by the concept of cars. they could do so much better. and luzmari is like yknow what? yeah <3

[1-800-cuupid]

heyy i saw another anon ask ab dol (but feel free to ignore this) is there some sort of quickstart guide for the gameplay? i tried it once but had no idea how to get through the day haha

I don't know about a quick start guide, you can check the wiki but there are a lot of spoilers there ofc.

If you want my advice, just do what Bailey says! Go door to door, do the tasks that people give you! After that, go to school and meet some of the other NPCs you can interact with!

Then just explore the town! Go to the temple, go to the strip club or the bar, go to the forest, go diving in the lake, break into ppl's houses, streak in the park, go swimming in the ocean and pass out, hitch hike outside the town, get kidnapped by a bird or a wolf boy, go FUCKING insane and get sent to the psych ward!! Do whatever!!!

It's an open world type beat so you can do p much whatever you want!

[ducknotinarow]

📝Richard Roo

| Send me 📝 and i'll give you a random amount of headcanons/facts about my muse!

So I feel most things you do already know mostly I'm just gonna confirm stuff. Mainly this is meta about Richards creation and idk I hope that's interesting?

Richard was never meant to be a oc in a sense. He was just gonna be the boss of another charater his friend Valerie who was meant to be the oc basically.

I ended up getting intrested in why Richard was him and well here we are.

Richards the first oc I've made in adult hood the last oc i made I'm pretty sure was Nina back in 2012 Richard I made roughly in 2019. So for seven years I have made a charater and thats kind of why Richard is speical to me.

Richard has inspirations from a few of my favorite charaters such as mamoru from sailormoon.

I know you don't know a think about sailormoon buy I will say this Bailey is pretty similar to usagi/sailormoon in thats he's a crybaby who loses to eat is lazy and is best know for thier good heart.

Another inspiration for Richard was nightwing from DC comics its where his name came from Richard.

In the vein of this I did name Richard's father Thomas after Batmans dad. I almost name Zane Bruce for this connection as well and his mother Martha but went with Meldoy instead because of the joke that she's the opposite of a meldoy. For Zane? I wanted his name to stand out so I gave him a different name

Mostly the inspirations were for design and why blue became his color.

Richard maybe someone who can talk to people and such easily but in truth? He's an introvert. His energy is zapped interacting with others its partly why a café is a perfect place to work since they are quiet.

I wouldn't call Richard shy though he's not that kind of introvert he is for sure someone who enjoys being indoors more

when it comes to his mental health Antiexy is something he has for sure. In truth though he deals with more than one kind because I'm a bitch to this bird. Richard has OCD for one it's why he is so set in his ways and has to have things just show why breaking from a routine can be difficult for him even. Richard also deals with PTSD. He did come from an abusive household and it was his trauma comes from its also why Richard has so much trouble with his emotions because it's difficult for him to control them in the first place. Richard does indeed have triggers as well but they are minor. And just general anxiety.

When it comes to Richard's way of showing love it's because he just doesn't want people to go through the things he does. He wants the people he loves to be kinder to themselves. He wants them to have better. For Buddy a parent who will support them for Bailey a Partner that will always stand by them. It is not something he actively thinks but it is why he is the way with them.

Richard used to buy from Bailey company and I'm sure there are records of his purchases yet he had no idea who Bailey was when they met because well he doesn't follow all of that kind of buzz.

Richard moved to St.Carnad for a reason, his parents always claimed it was an awful place to start a business so out of spite he picked there to start up his business.

Richard started to draw as a child because he just wanted to draw cartoons, though his style got more realistic (in my mind that's his style) because he found interest in sketching stuff. To this day its how he thinks the best he doesn't draw he feels but its how he gathers his thoughts often when gifting something he made it's because he came to some conclusions when drawing the piece.

Richard in a sense was sort of in an enraged marriage as a teen. This girl was his first partner even. His mother wanted him to marry the daughter of a friend because thier companies were going to merge. Richard only dated her as a way to get out of the house. So in her mind, Richard was promised to this girl. In the Childhood au this is why Melody hates Bailey because Bailey was in the way of her plan. not that it mattered Richard and the girl didn't like each other is was a matter of convincing. They are still friends though. They never even kissed or held hands.

Yeah so those tats on Richard hmm? he has a lot uh? Along with a scare? that he hates yet he actively scared himself with tattoos? So it's not common but lets just say sometimes people who like tattoos also were people with certien tendencies of the self-harming route.

The only ones that don't apply to this is the ones he got of Bailey's name and Buddy's name those ones were different like his one for Zane. These are people who take a lot of that pain away from him. It way those ones are so different from the rest of his tattoos.

Richard subscribes to Bailey's company magainze and he keeps any covers Bailey is on for himself. Look he don't care he married to Bailey. Bailey is hot and he will keep those photos despite the fact he get far better personally.

Richard doesn't care what others say he loves his husband he knows Bailey has his own demons. He knows Bailey hates not always being thier big happy fluffy self but he wants Bailey to know he doesn't have to be around Richard. Richard wants to be what Bailey is for him his safe space. A no-judgment zone anything said between them stays between them. Bailey is far more open compared to Richard but he knows there things Bailey keeps as well and he'll never press them to tell Bailey can share as much and as little as they wish he'll still love them.

Richard thinks Bailey is a better person than him because well unlike Richard Bailey is a bit more willing to fess up to his fuck ups. Richard rather act he is perfect Bailey may live up to his own flaws like being lazy or being overly emotional. But in truth Richard admires that Bailey can be open as they are Bailey is what makes Richard strive to be better its why Bailey gets to see Richard be the dork he is because well he's fine with Bailey seeing that side.

Richard favorite genre of books and movies? romance uwu he is always reading a love story and aromatic movies are his favorite romcoms mostly but the Notebook is his favorite. To this day it still makes him cry and yes he will get embarrassed about it

Richard also reads the spicy kind of romance stories uwu mans like his smut and has read it in public before he got no shame uwu

Richard loathes public transportation

[notebookmusical]

Hi! I meant to reply sooner but I guess I've been distracted so I apologize. Also I'm sorry if I can't remember everything. Oh that's cool..and it seemed like a fun trip. I saw some of your posts about seeing Holly Humberstone in concert and going to the aquarium. I hope you still ended up having a good time even though the airline or travel sucked. I've only been on one plane a long time ago so I can't relate. But I am also going out of town this weekend but we are driving. Also if you're still sick, I hope you're feeling better. My sister is starting to feel sick too actually.

I keep up with the show through gifs mostly and know the basics. I've watched a few clips too. I've also heard the show is a lot better than the books. What do you think? What is your favorite season so far? Does it match up with your favorite book? I think the most popular is season two with Kate and Anthony and that's the one I'm most familiar with too. I don't know much about Jonathan Bailey but I heard him sing the last five years before so I know he can sing pretty good so I'm excited to see him as Fiyero.

Haha I love Shameless but I wouldn't really compare it to The Bear besides the attitude of his and other characters I guess. It's about a tough Chicago family and they deal with crazy situations. Unfortunately I never even finished the show and I don't remember why. It definitely got weaker in the last few seasons. I still love it but think it would be a hard show to recommend based on what you like lol but I'm excited for the Bear.

Billie's album has grown on me a lot more now with more listens. I'm glad you liked it. I feel it was a good mix of her other albums if you never listened to her before. My favorites are Skinny, Lunch, Birds of a Feather, L'amour de ma Vie and Blue. At first, I wasn't impressed and the transitions or production threw me off. I think two songs were actually pretty similar to Taylor actually. The obvious one was L'amour de ma vie which I knew even reading the title translates to love of my life. It's similar or almost the opposite cuz in this song she's saying she said it but Taylor says the other person says it about her. I just found that interesting that it was the same concept basically being told in a different way. I feel similarly about gonnagetyouback and Get Him Back by Olivia and I guess Peter vs Wendy. How they're not really similar songs at all despite having the same kind of idea. The other one was that the end of the Greatest in the bridge reminded me of her song Happier than Ever but also the bridge of Smallest Man who Ever Lived. But I don't think Billie is similar to Taylor at all compared to the other two..I think she is more like Lana. I just found it to be an interesting coincidence though but that's all. I need some more time with Zayn's album but my favorite is called Stardust. Overall I like that all of the 1D boys have different styles and music and same for all of the popular albums from this year.

The new twenty one pilots album is amazing and I love it so much. It's like a blend of all of their styles which is really awesome. I liked it right away but my sister was expecting a bit more since they said it would have a lot of lore and it was the end of a story they've been telling for the past few albums. They also had a Livestream and music videos for each song which they talked about so it felt like an event and was really fun. I definitely recommend the album but don't feel bad if you don't get to it. I also feel behind on some albums since I've spent lots of time listening to this album and Taylor's, but they will both definitely be my albums of the year lol. I am already starting to connect some songs with past Taylor songs too. I think if I had to pick a Taylor album to compare it to, maybe Midnights? But there has also been some theories about a double album too and if the story is truly over which also lines up perfectly with Taylor lol. But we are also waiting on one more mv to drop that can wrap up the story so idk. Anyway my favorite songs are Next Semester, Navigating, Midwest Indigo, Vignette, Snapback, Oldies Station and Paladin Strait.

Omg how did you only just now watch the sisterhood of the traveling pants movie? I love the movie and thought it was a good adaptation of the book. I did read the whole series too which I love. Did you also watch the second movie too? They also said a while ago that number 3 is still in the works and I love that they're still close too. I think just based on what I've read so far, Funny Story will be in the middle maybe and I understand some criticisms. The plot itself seems more tropes compared to her other books but it's also a mix of her other books to me. So far, I think I like Beach Read or Book Lovers the best. It is interesting when I read articles about which ones are the best and the rankings are always different, which is good cuz there is something for everyone and people connect with different things. I will definitely try to finish along with Carley's too hopefully now that it's summer time.

I can't believe the Tony's are almost here. I spent part of my weekend watching more performances and it's hard to say what will win best musical. They're all pretty different in a good way. I've also tried to read more reviews and what people thought but I'm still bad at predicting lol. I watched one Stereophonic performance and I think people seem to like it a lot so you're probably right about it winning. It makes sense if it's about musicians that it would only be about an album worth of songs though. I think my favorite is the Outsiders still, but I'm probably biased cuz of the book and I have read pretty mixed reviews. I will send the rest in a part 2!

you're totally fine, friend! <33 hope you've been well!! i did have a good trip regardless of the travel day from hell. i hope you're having a fun time out of town!! did you know that i have never been in a car longer than like three hours (basically how long it would take me to drive down to portland or vancouver)? i am still sickly :( me and my victorian child immune system just does not want to kick this cold away unfortunately.

my favorite season is season two! and it matches with my favorite book (anthony's)! i think my ranking of the siblings are: anthony → francesca → hyacinth → eloise → gregory → colin → benedict → daphne & in terms of books, it's anthony → francesca → colin → hyacinth → eloise → gregory → benedict → daphne. the new season is coming so soon and i'm very excited! i saw some kanthony related spoilers on twitter, and am stoked. i loveee jonathan bailey! he's phenomenal in the last five years, and was also so lovely in company and american psycho! i'd love to see him do more theatre.

i really really like billie's new album! a couple of the songs on there have made it onto my june playlist (lunch, birds of a feather, wildflower, and skinny)! i've also been listening to maggie rogers' newest album quite a bit, as well as please please please by sabrina carpenter, isabel by isabel pless and close to you by gracie abrams. and of course, charli xcx's newest album, brat — i've been listening to b2b, von dutch, 360, club classics and talk talk a lot.

there's a lot of quintessential movies that my friends grew up watching that i totally missed out on! sisterhood of the traveling pants was one of them, and i'm really glad i got to watch it with a friend who loved it — made the experience so much more special! i haven't gotten around to watching the second movie yet; scheduling movie nights with my friend is difficult (we have opposite work schedules) but i think we will watch it together eventually! and then the third one, when it comes out!

beach read and book lovers are my favorites! i'm very curious to see what emily henry writes next! i've been reading very little — just a lot of classics lately (finished the phantom of the opera, still making my way through gatsby & started the hunchback of the notre dame), and i started s./ship of theseus last night but i'll be taking my time with it! it's quite overwhelming!

tony awards next weekend!!! eeeee! i'm so excited! i'm really rooting for the outsiders (partially out of spite, partially because it's what i predicted). i wish stereophonic got to perform! i think it's silly they wouldn't let them! see you in a bit for part two <333

[angrelysimpping]

this is more on the comedic side, but could you write "tutorial man" instead on bumping on the pc,they bump into male bailey and they look at this obviously dangerous man who is taller and stronger than them and decides to assault them, and bailey, just...wrecks him (the idea of the pure stupidity, the lack of self preservation is too hysterical to me)

(attempted assault; past noncon; Bailey has a flashback; violence; like, no editing so it that's a thing that'll keep you from reading a fic, now you know)

“Piece of,” Bailey mutters to himself as the computer screen flickers again before going dark completely. The steady hum of the old machine cuts off and Bailey can’t keep himself from smacking the side of the screen. It doesn’t matter, the thing is already dead.

Useless piece of junk.

He needs a break. In his younger days, he might have slunk through the streets until he came across some desperate whore. Would drag them into an alley and shove his cock down their throat. Suff a crumpled fiver down their pants after giving them a facial.

Not now, though. Now, Bailey doesn’t bother to relieve his stress, not really. Too busy. Too paranoid. Easier to chain smoke half a pack on the front steps of the orphanage than to properly ease his nerves.

The morning air is still cool as Bailey steps out the front door, a low fog clinging to the streets, yet to get burned away. Bailey likes mornings like this. Usually meant the streets were empty, quiet. Means he can have a smoke in peace. It’ll be nice, having a moment to himself like this. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long day. First having one of his brats turn 18 and having to give them the talk. Then his computer shitting the bed.

Now this, a toned man walking down the street, seemingly laser-focused on Bailey.

So much for a moment of peace.

Bailey ignores the man hurrying down the street towards him. Instead focuses on the cigarette burning between his fingers. If he ignores the fucker, maybe they’ll take a hint.

Of course, he doesn’t.

“Morning, handsome! Sure would love a taste of you!”

Bailey sneers but doesn't get a moment to respond before the man knocks him to the ground.

Bailey’s vision goes dark for a second, pain exploding from the back of his head where his skull makes contact with the pavement. The world spins around him, fuzzy around the edges as he clings to consciousness.

The man is heavy and warm, rutting his erection against Bailey’s thigh while fumbling with the caretaker’s belt. “So pretty, so handsome. Delicious thing you are,” the man mutters into Bailey’s neck, his warm breath making Bailey shiver involuntarily.

The man whines as he gives up on undoing Bailey’s belt, reaching up for his shirt instead. There’s a loud rip as the man yanks on Bailey’s shirt. It’s not until the cool air hit his bare skin that Bailey realizes he quite literally had his shirt ripped off. The ruined fabric flutters to the ground as the man ducks his head, warm tongue lapping at one of Bailey’s nipples.

Bailey gasps, eyes going wide and back arching off the ground.

“Sensitive?” The man laughs, letting his teeth graze the bud, “Cute.”

The world shifts. For a moment, those words are spoken by someone else. Not a toned man on the sidewalk in the early morning air. No, but by a lush woman in a stuffy loft well into the night. Bird's chirping gets replaced with the snuffling cries of others in similar positions to Bailey. Gone is the scent of fresh-cut grass and morning dew. Now all he can smell is blood and sweat and that horrid cologne of the caretake who came before him.

It’s with a strangled cry that Bailey surges forward, taking the toned man by surprise. Bailey manages to flip position with the toned man, manages to get his hands around his throat. He barely registers the words spilling from him, threats and insults that would make a sailor blush. It’s as the man stops fighting, starts to go limp under him, that Bailey realizes he’s still holding onto his lit cigarette.

The man sputters as Bailey eases his hold on him, taking in deep, shuddering breaths before saying, “I-I’m sorry!”

Keeping on hand one the man’s neck, Bailey brings the cigarette up to his lips and takes a long drag.

“I’m sorry,” the man says again. “I’m so, s-so sorry. I-” his babbling cuts off into a scream as Bailey presses the lit end of the cigarette to the man’s neck.

Bailey’s smile would turn even the hottest flame to ice at that moment, though the man was lucky enough to never see it, his eyes screwed shut in agony.

Bailey lets out a low laugh as the man writhes under him, “I don’t believe you.”

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Extra Credit

based on this cause @avhrodite and I were texting, and she told me to write it! so this is for you miss bailey <3

also feedback is always appreciated! literally rb, comment, or an anon ask means the world to fanfic writers, now that tumblr’s algorithm is messed up.

enjoy 7.6k of professor!harry lovelies!

also the intimidating as fuck photo that inspired this, and will be used in the story!

Sexuality Studies. Room 3017.

You had stalled from walking into class with a nervous gut feeling in your stomach with a heavy textbook in your arms, too big to be put in your backpack, but it felt like your book was weighing you down. People were walking around each other to find a vacant seat as you stood there next to the door as you waited till the last minute to walk in and take your seat.

There were a few reasons why you were nervous to walk in. One, it was basically sex class. Your friend had taken the class a few semesters ago, and had told you the basics of it and the rundown. There was a lot of sex talking towards the end.

And although, you’ve had had sex before, you still felt like you were inexperienced. Your sex life was boring, and nonexistent as of a month ago when you broke it off with your, now ex, friends with benefits. He just wasn’t doing the job, like at all. He never made sure you were having a good time or getting off. And that’s just one of the reasons why you broke it off with him. Luckily, he wasn’t mad and didn’t ask questions. Just said ‘oh, okay’ and bid his goodbye. That had made you a bit sad, knowing he didn’t care whatsoever. You two had only been fucking for a month, and the excitement had left your body the first night you slept with him.

The second reason goes along well with the first, and that’s because you aren’t that comfortable. Again, you’ve sex, but you weren’t comfortable in yourself--your sexuality. You never really had time or experience to explore your body or others because you’ve only slept with two people. In that sense, you didn’t know what you liked sexually and what your partner liked, other than blowjobs, handjobs, and being able to cum while fucking you. But there was more to it; you wanted the details, the ticks, sensitive spots, everything. But you’ve slept with lousy frat boys who didn’t care enough to ask if you had finished.

You checked your phone for the time, seeing that you have about two minutes before you have to go in. You take a deep breath, walking over to the opposite side of the wall, preparing yourself to walk in. You don’t know why it was so hard for you to just walk in and sit down. The thought of having to sit through an hour and a half class that is mainly about sex isn’t that hard to deal with either, but your insecurities and anxiety is getting the better of you. With a couple of neck rolls and inhales to deep exhales, you were ready before you heard a voice next to you.

“Nervous about the first day?” You look up to find an incredibly attractive man smiling down at you. His smile had made you blush and his intent eye contact had made you nervous. The way he just looks insanely sexy, and you think his hair is better than yours. He wears a simple button down shirt with two birds next to the collar, along with black jeans and boots. And you think, he’s so good looking and dresses well too. For a student, you don’t see anyone dress or look like him at all.

“Uh, kinda? I don’t know,” you say as you are not quite sure what to answer, so you said the easiest thing that didn’t have to do with how you’re feeling right now.

“No need to be nervous. This semester will go by quickly and I heard the professor is really cool too,” the man says with a reassuring smile, and you felt a bit better because he was right. This class would be a breeze and then you wouldn’t have to retake it, unless you fail.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you. Uh, do you want to sit next to me?” You made the bold move to ask him, and it had shocked you. You never made the first move, but you figured that you needed more friends anyways.

“Oh, thank you, but can’t do that. Let’s go in, shall we?” He waves his hand out, leading you to go first.

You cheeks were filled with embarrassment, thinking that your bold move was a stupid move. Of course, he didn’t want to sit next to you. He barely knows you. You roll your eyes at yourself, making your way to the first row as all the seats behind the front row were taken, and you didn’t want to take the time to look around. You take a seat as your head sank lower from awkwardness you had felt, and you set your book down on the desk and heard your professor speak.

“Hello, class. Welcome to ‘Sexuality Studies.’ I’m Professor Styles. Shall we get started?” Your mouth had been open the entire time he was introducing himself. Shocked was an understatement as you didn’t realize you were talking to your professor outside of the class, but that hadn’t made your embarrassing moment less worse.

How did you not realize that? You should’ve seen it coming because you were thinking about how no student on campus dresses or looks the way he does, and you didn’t think to put the pieces together.

But, fuck.

He was sexy as a ‘student’, but as the professor, that was a different story. You had felt the weird feeling in your stomach, triggering your arousal as you watched him talk to the entirety of the class about what’s to be expected. You turned around slightly and observed the room; noticing that most of the class were girls and there were a few guys, but the female population dominated the class. All the girls had hearts in their eyes, twirling, and biting their lip as they stared at their new professor; probably hoping they would get some extra credit in the middle of the semester to raise their grade or purposefully failing their test so he can call them into his office and they can have classic office sex.

The thought had made your eyes roll. Not at the thought of office sex because everyone knows that’s hot, but the thought of purposefully doing horrible in the class to fuck the professor is beyond you.

The class had gone by rather quickly, Professor Styles only talking about the basics of what everyone is going to learn such as culture, biological, health, anatomy, art, etc.

You walked out of the class in a hurry, not looking at your new professor and anticipated the next time you’ll meet.

The month had gone by rather smoothly, only taking two classes for the semester, so your workload isn’t too bad. The occasional thought about thinking your professor was a student had haunted you, and you think about it a bit more than you would like; feeling quite embarrassed and you’d hope that he had forgotten all about it.

You were sat at the coffee shop, head in your laptop and notes that you had taken during lecture as you were starting on your paper that is due in a little over two weeks. You were so into your introduction that your fingers were typing away on their own, that you didn't feel the presence of someone beside you.

“Hi. You’re in my sexuality class, right?” A voice from your right becomes present, and you look up, seeing your incredibly attractive professor looking down at you with a smile. There was no way in getting out of this one.

“Yes. Mr. Styles, hi,” you say nervously, but trying your best to hide it with your smile.

“Thought I recognized ya. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I’m actually working on your paper right now,” you chuckle a bit.

“Are ya? What are you writing it on?” You get a bit sidetracked, realizing that he’s still standing and all of your stuff sits on the opposite side of the table. You reach over to move it onto your lap.

“You can sit if you’d like,” you offer. Harry debates for a second, and sees that there’s no harm in sitting with your student, so he gladly takes the seat across from you. “But I’m writing it on the fine line between masculinity and femininity.”

“Ahh, yes. That’s one of my favorite topics that we discussed,” he says.

“Yeah, me too. Pretty important for this day in age.”

“I’m right there with ya,” he agrees.

For the next 20 minutes, you and Harry talk about some main points. Discussing and going over what ideas you had in mind as Harry listens while nodding his head. He notices how passionate you are with the topic of your paper, and he appreciates the passion. Students will lazily write this paper, and it really shows in their work that makes him a bit disappointed because he had thought that he made the class fun; adding a few jokes and having the student participate with the lecture.

But listening to you talk about all the ideas that you wrote down; so far from the earth as you keep talking as he listens intently to you. You’re a sweet person, he’s noticed. You don’t participate all that much in class, but he figured that’s because you’re just a tad bit shy. And he’s still amused at the fact that you thought he was a student, which flattered him. But in all honesty, he can pass as one, and it wasn’t the first time someone mistaken him for a student.

Just as you were finished talking, a hint of pink made your cheeks flushed as you realized you were talking quite a bit, and keeping him from doing whatever he was supposed to. “I’m sorry. I tend to talk a lot when I get into things.”

“Hey, no need to apologize. I’m glad you told me your ideas because I think they’re great.” He checks the time on his phone and sees that he should get going, and his coffee cup is empty already. “But I should get going. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything for the paper. I’ll see you in class.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles. Have a great rest of your day,” you bid him goodbye as he softly says ‘you too.’

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Although you had been comfortable talking to him, you have never actually had a close conversation with any of your professors, really. Especially not outside of campus. But you really did feel comfortable. You figured that it’s because Harry is in a way, younger than most professors—at least he looks young.

The rest of your time at the coffee shop was spent finishing up the second paragraph and your coffee before you head back to your apartment.

The paper was due in a week, and you felt confident about turning it in on time and doing a great job on it. But that did not stop you from going into Mr. Styles’ office during his office hours, and he did say not to hesitate to ask if you had any questions, so you were using that to your advantage to make your paper even better.

He was surprised to see you just after two days of seeing him at the coffee shop that happened the week prior; asking him how to rephrase some things and seeing where some ideas fit into the paragraphs that are already written. And Harry happily helped you. Although he thinks you don’t need help at all, seeing as you’re right on track on the topic.

But you had felt a sudden surge of confidence that has never hit you before. And you can tell yourself that you’re comfortable enough to ask him questions all you want, but in reality, you wanted to keep talking to him and most importantly, keep seeing him.

He had this sense of comfort to him that made you feel safe. You never felt the awkward tension that there is in when talking to other professors, and you were glad for it. Mr. Styles had made it a safe space for his students to talk to him. And aside from asking him about school related things, you two had gotten to know each other after the important questions were asked. The conversations were harmless, and you looked forward to them everytime.

A knock was heard on his office door and he told whoever was behind it to come in. You walked in with a smile, laptop and notebook held to your chest, walking in slowly as you closed the door behind you.

“Hi, Mr. Styles. Are you busy?”

He shakes his head, “no, no. How can I help you?” Harry had—and was still trying—to keep it professional between you two. And although nothing had happened, he can’t help but stop the flutter of his heart when you would walk in his class or his office as you gave him a small that he adored. He also noticed how concentrated you are during class; making sure to take every single note and word that he says, making him smile at the thought.

“Uh, I was kind of stuck on something that I could definitely use your help with.” 

“Sure thing. That’s what I’m here for,” he gives you a smile, and you open your notebook, showing him the many marks and scribbles that you had planted out when brainstorming.

“So I came up with this idea because I thought it would be important to talk about the history of masculinity and femininity. I didn’t want to just talk about the modern times as of now. But maybe research how it affected people back in the day when they weren’t acting as their…assigned sexuality, as you could say.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about that and during the times of the first pride march. That would definitely be interesting. But I would say not to go too into it, it’s a pretty straightforward topic, and there’s just a lot that is covered during those times. Just so you don’t get too ahead of yourself,” he gives his opinion. You listen carefully and take in his words as if you’re making a mental list of things you should and shouldn’t write about.

“Sounds good. Thank you.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just wanted to ask you that,” you say as you close your notebook, but not getting up to leave yet.

“Okay, can I ask you something this time?”

“Uh, sure,” you respond nervously.

“I see that you’re pretty much on track of the paper, like you know what you’re talking about. And you seem really confident in what you want to say, which is good. And I’m all ears when it comes to students wanting feedback, but I just have to ask….” anxiety boils through your throat. “Is coming to see me practically 2 or 3 times a week have to do with your paper?” You take a deep inhale, but don’t let your breath loose. He read you extremely well, you have to say. And it was a bold move on Harry’s part to ask that because if you say the opposite, then he assumed pretty hard.

You finally let go of the breath you were holding in and answered, “no.”

“No. It doesn’t have to do with your paper?” You shake your head in confirmation. “Then what does it have to do with?” He asks, and you think he definitely already knows what’s going on, but needs you to say the words.

“I just…wanted to see you,” you say softly.

“And why is that?” At this point, he’s teasing you already. Probably wanting to make a fool out of yourself so he could go home and laugh about it to his girlfriend or boyfriend, which you assume he has. And the bold assumption that you had thought he felt that pull towards you was enough to make you feel embarrassed for the second time in front of him.

But the remains of the confidence were still pooling in your head, and you figured you had nothing to lose.

“I wanted to see you because… I can’t deny this attraction I feel towards you. And it’s not based solely on your looks either because no can hide the fact that you’re insanely attractive, but I’ve gotten to know you for who you are this past week and we had some good talks, which was nice because no one has ever gotten to know me well enough for me to fall for them within a week.”

You finish your confession with a straight face, but there was still a hint of hope that he would tell you he felt the same way.

“And on the topic of no one getting to know me, and this is a sexuality class and you’ve recently started talking about sex; I’ve never truly had the chance to explore with partners sexually and explore my sexuality more in depth than just someone sticking their dick inside me, and calling it good sex. So, you talking to me and getting to know me means a lot because no one wants to waste their time on what I like and what I’m into.”

You had said a mouthful, and it can be heard as inappropriate to say that to your professor, but again, why would a sexuality teacher judge you based on your past sex life?

A minute had passed that immediately felt like an hour. The only thing that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock, and that made the tension even more unbearable.

You get up from out of the chair, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for the help, Mr Styles.” 

Before you reach for the door, he finally decides to speak, “Wait.” You turn around slowly and watch him get up from his chair, and walk towards you. His eyes are dark, and they don’t leave yours as he reaches you.

The proximity is close enough that you could lean forward and be pressed up against his chest, but you’re afraid that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself if you do that.

“You’ve fallen for me?” Is the thing that he could respond with after all that you’ve said.

“Yes. I’ve developed a crush on you, well, more than a crush because I do like you,” you say as you look up at him. He looks down at you intently, lips rolled into his mouth. He smells amazing from how close you are, that it’s like a potion that keeps luring you in, wanting more.

“Do ya?”

“I think I make myself pretty clear on that,” you respond with a bit of sass.

“Don’t give me attitude,” his tone changed to dominant, and a pool in your panties made itself present.

“What are you gonna do about it, Mr Styles?” You test, and move closer to him, lips almost touching. You can possibly reach up and your lips will be in sync. A smirk comes to play on his face as if you’ve made the wrong move, but you’re so ready for what’s to come.

And for a split second, it looked like he was leaning in a tad bit to go in for a kiss, but retracts back. “I’ll see you in my next class.” With that, he pulls back and walks back to his chair.

You’re left stunned, mouth slightly open, surprised he didn’t make a move. He didn’t even tell you if he felt the same way, and if it were any other day, you would’ve felt extremely sad, but there was so much tension in the room you needed to go home and take care of yourself.

And that’s what you did.

Once you got back home, you ran a bath for yourself and sat in it as you ran over your skin, leading to where you ached the most. Many thoughts of Mr. Styles doing this to you as he sat behind you in the bath, knowing that you would make a mess on his long fingers and pretty hands. And that definitely helped you reach our orgasm as you moan out his name, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly odd about it.

You finally turned in your paper on the last day it was due, and you were extremely happy with it. You added the history of not acting like your original self, taking Mr. Styles’ advice and not going too in depth with it. This has marked as a halfway point to graduating with your bachelors, and you were ecstatic.

It had also been a week since the tension filled scene that had happened in your professor’s office, and you haven’t been back since. Seeming as you didn’t need to since there were no needed assignments, but you had thought you would visit him in his office everyday after what you had confessed.

It didn’t get easier sitting in his class as he stood up in front of everyone looking so hot as he wore a crisp blue button down with a polka dot tie, and a pink blazer over it. He knew your secret. He knew that you had the hots for him. And he knew that he didn’t say anything to reciprocate those feelings. And you tried very hard not to let it get to you.

The lecture had ted to your paper topic: masculinity and femininity. But this time, it was open for class discussion. You weren’t big on talking in class; just preferred listening to everyone’s opinions and making your own in your head, but the ignorance that someone had made you argue with him.

“I personally feel like men should stay on the masculinity side, and women on the femininity side.” You had turned around to see the guy who had said that. He was wearing a football jersey of the university, laughing with his two friends.

“And why do you think that?” Mr Styles follows up.

“It’s simple. You shouldn’t act as if you’re someone you’re not-”

“That makes a good point in your argument though,” you interrupt, turning in your seat to look at the jock at the top. “You shouldn’t act like someone you’re not, so why would you act like someone you don’t want to be?” The guy had shut up, making you smirk. “I just think that being masculine and feminine as your biological gender is a social construct. It just takes away the substance of that person when people look down on them for being true to themselves. So, why does masculinity only apply to men, and femininity only apply to women?”

Harry smirks at your discussion. It had surprised him that you spoke up in his class, but it didn’t surprise him when you spoke up about this topic. You had definitely shut down his other student, and he was proud of you for that.

The class was dismissed and as you were making your way towards the door, someone stopped you.

“Hey, really great argument back there.” It was the ignorant jock.

“Thanks.” You walked out of the class to get out of everyone’s way, stopping at the wall across from the class.

“I didn’t mean to sound so douchey back there, but what you said really got me thinking, and I see where you’re coming from.”

“I’m glad. You learn something new everyday…”

Harry was watching you the entire time you left your seat to when his student stopped you to have a chat. He had thought you were going to shut him down for being ignorant, but he saw you smile and laugh a little, making him breath deeply as he glared at you, brows furrowed, and coffee cup in his hand. Harry then sees him take out his phone, obvious that he’s asking for his number and he sees you blush as you talk.

Harry tries to control his breathing, and in another world, steam would be coming out of his ears. He walks towards the door, thinking that he was going to call you into his class, but decides against it and shuts the door.

It was already nearing the end of the semester, and you have yet to talk to him.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you had slightly gotten over his unreciprocated feelings, you would have probably dropped out of the class and waited another semester to finish. But you couldn’t let him do that to you; you were way too close to the finish line.

Mr. Styles was in his final topic of speaking about the fun part of sex, and how it could be pleasurable. He talked about the anatomy of it at first, moving onto the techniques. And the techniques he used on how to pleasure a woman and man had you hot in your seat. He demonstrated using his finger, showing the class the way to finger someone, and you couldn’t help but cross your legs. And you were sure everyone was doing so as well.

The simple demonstration of his fingers making a curling motion as if he’s fingering someone made you clench. You had been right about his fingers bringing you to pleasure, and all you wanted to do was rush home and imagine it again since you have a full visual.

“Okay, class. I have an extra credit opportunity for you.” The class perks up at that. You had a low A in the class, and although you were confident about the final, you didn’t want to risk it, so you listened.

“Since this is a sexuality class, I hoped I didn’t make anyone uncomfortable on what I just did,” the class laughed a bit, and you smiled. “For this extra credit, I want you to go to a sex store and buy a toy that can be pretty much anything. Come back and show me, and I will mark you down for points. I don’t require a paper on this, so it is fairly easy, but this is to show that you should be comfortable in your sexuality, and walking into a sex store should be easy for you because there’s nothing wrong with that whatsoever because everyone has needs and if someone judges you, then they’re not getting laid.” The class laughs again. “You can return it if you want after I mark you down or you can keep it. A win win for everyone! Okay, class dismissed.”

You walked out of class with a smile on your face as Mr Styles lightened up everyone’s mood as everyone was stressing for finals. You were glad for it; the weight on your shoulders were still heavy, but a good laugh was needed.

You had two weeks to buy and show him the extra credit, and two weeks until you graduated. The days were counting down at this point, and before you knew it, it was the final week.

You had passed both of your finals with flying colors, and you had the rest of the week to finally relax as you were graduating at the end of the week. The apartment was a mess, and you finally had time to tidy it up a bit; fix the mess of papers on your kitchen table and put your laundry away. You also used that time to finally go out and get your extra credit.

It would be a lie if you had told yourself that you were too lazy to go out and actually buy your extra credit assignment, but that was far from the truth. If you had energy to get up and clean around your home, then you could have easily gotten up and buy a sex toy.

But it was the anxious feeling that you had that you were going to see him so up close, and actually get to talk to him again that stopped you.

The crush on your professor hadn’t died done any less, but it hadn’t increased either. You were stuck in a plateau of not getting over him and not falling for him more. You figured it’s because you see him every week, so you were hoping by this time, you were on your way to getting over him.

You made your way into the sex shop with nerves as you haven’t been into one before, and it was a very relaxed set up. Various of sex toys used for both genders were set against the wall, and a red curtain that led to something in the back that, you assumed, was the more extreme items.

You scanned the toys, figuring that it would be easy to just get a vibrator. Your hands shook as you went to grab the boxed toy, and you remembered Mr Styles’ words; there’s no reason to be ashamed in buying any of these, and that relaxed you.

The employee who rang you up was the sweetest. She greeted you with a bubbly smile, and told you that you had made a great choice because she has the same one. You didn’t tell her that it was for a school thing, because that would sound really weird, and you didn’t tell her that you were planning on returning it later on.

You drove to campus, hoping that Mr Styles was in his office. The drive was a 30 minute drive as you lived a bit far from the school, but you didn’t mind the drive.

Harry heard a knock on his office door, telling them to enter. His eyes perked up as you made yourself present as you opened the door. His heart was beating in his chest as he saw you; remembering the last time you were in his office and missing the presence of you being close again.

“Hi. How are you?” He pointed to the chair, and you sat down. Your heart was pounding as well, feeling nervous about being in his office again.

“I’m doing good. How are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. What can I do for you?” He asks politely. You reach into your bag and grab the box to show him your extra credit assignment. “Ahh,” he lets out as he sees the box. “Perfect. Let me mark you down for that.”

“Thank you,” you say as you put the toy back inside your bag. “Can I ask how I did on the final? If you’ve already finished grading it.”

“Yes. You did really well, actually,” he says as he shuffles through his papers, looking for the grade book. “Ah, here. You got a 95.” That made you smile. You were quite confident for the final, but hearing that you did well brightened up your day. “And that boosted up your grade to a 94, plus the extra credit, that will go up to a 97.”

Your eyes widened; you had passed both classes with an A, and you were extremely excited about that; and it takes everything in you to not jump up and scream. “Wow, thank you.”

“No need to thank me. You deserve it. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at you, and your heart swoons, telling him a thank you. “You graduate at the end of the week right?” You nod. “Excited?”

“Very. I really only needed to take this class, but I was putting it off because my friend took this course and said it was pretty sexual, and that made me a bit uncomfortable if I’m being honest. But I really enjoyed this class…you made it bearable.” Harry blushes, thinking how happy he is that you took the class with him.

“Well, I’m happy you enjoyed it,” he says .

There was silence that washed over you two with the slightest bit of tension; debating if either one should bring up what happened the last time you were in his office. You were feeling so many things at the moment, and he was too, but you were sure it was inappropriate to talk about it when technically, nothing even happened.

“I should get going,” you say instead.

“Sure thing. I’ll see you…uh, around,” he says hesitantly. You tell him goodbye and walk out of his office, probably the last time you would ever see him.

You had finally graduated, and you couldn’t be more happy and proud for yourself. A relieved feeling ran through you when you had put on your cap and gown, and the thought made you tear up. You were done, for now, before you had to go to grad school and get your masters degree. But either way, you were ecstatic.

Now a week has gone by since graduation, and you decided to do some errands. You also needed to make your way to the sex shop and return your item.

As you entered the door you had walked through once before, your eyes immediately spotted the familiar man who had made your heart flutter by the simple act of eye contact. And if it was by instincts, Harry turns his head towards the door and sees you standing at the entrance. He hadn’t seen you since the time in his office and he saw you walk for graduation, if that counts.

There was no way of avoiding him, so you walked over to him. “Hi, Mr Styles.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore. You graduated already,” he smirks, and you chuckle.

“Then what should I call you?”

Yours. “Harry.”

You tilt your head to the side, seeing how fitting his name is on him. “Okay, Harry. What are you doing here anyways?” The question had slipped out of your mouth, but you think that there’s nothing awkward with it.

“Oh, uh, just looking for a cock ring,” he says honestly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m actually returning my extra credit purchase,” you chuckle.

“Are ya? Why don't you keep it?”

“I don’t know…I actually never used a toy before, and I got a bit intimidated by it.” Harry nods understandingly.

“See, a win win for everyone. You either get your money back or you get a nice orgasm out of it,” he laughs, and you agree with him.“I think you should keep it. This is the time you get to explore your sexuality.” You debate a bit. He was right, and you did have some spare time as of now, so you decided to keep it; see what this thing can really do.

“If you’d like…would you like to get some lunch with me?” He asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

Your eyes brighten. “Of course.”

It was like you were waiting for this moment to come. You had waited for him to ask you out and properly get to know each other outside of school. Harry had taken you to a small shop that sold burgers and fries, and you two sat in the patio of the shop; talking, eating, and laughing at stories you told each other.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, nervously. “When I told you I liked you in your office that one time, why didn’t you say anything back?”

“To be honest, I was nervous. You’re 22 and I’m six years older than you, and although that didn’t matter much to me, you were on the edge of graduating. I couldn’t risk that, even with how much I like you. The thought of getting caught and losing your chance to graduate, and possibly your acceptance for your masters, would just be selfish on my part because I couldn’t keep it in my pants… So I waited until you graduated; didn’t even know if I was going to see you again if I’m honest.”

You understood well on why he didn’t do anything to reciprocate his feelings, and you were grateful he didn’t until now.

By the end of it, you didn’t want the day to end so you invited him to your apartment.

You two sat on your couch, which thankfully you cleaned the place before, and talked some more and put on a movie. You two were inching closer to one another until you both were cuddling. You had rested your legs on his as he runs his fingers over your ankles, scratching your skin lightly.

You were breathing heavily, wanting to just make more than just innocent touches. As if Harry read your mind, he turned his head to look at you; a striking look in his eyes as you both look at each other. The air was heavy, sexual tension coming in hot.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

Harry wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. The softness of your lips meeting his is enough to drive him crazy. The pull you have on his hair makes him let out a moan into your mouth as you whimper into his. Chests are pulled close together, but not close enough as the hold on each other is tight; afraid one might let go.

Harry found himself in your bedroom, and it seemed like he blanked out during that time. Your kisses probably just pulled him into another world, where he debated if this was real life or if he was dreaming it. It was all real, but it was lovely to dream about.

You sat on the bed as you continued to kiss while Harry was standing above you; him leaning down and you reaching up. You were close to his hard on, and it took everything in him not to drop his pants and have you taste him, but it wasn’t going to be about him.

This is going to be about you.

You’d managed to get both of your shirts off, wanting yourself bare and to see his chest. You were surprised with the amount of tattoos that littered his skin. It was beautiful and raw, and him. You went to press a kiss to the butterfly on his stomach; the only one you can reach, and trailing down to the vines on his hips. Harry throws his head back, loving the feeling of your lips on his. You reach for his pants and before you can fully unbutton, he stops you.

“No, no. Tonight’s about you, baby,” he says as his face is close to yours and he kisses the tip of your nose. You nod slightly, feeling yourself blush; and he pushes your shoulder back so you’re fully laying down on your bed. “You want this, right?” Your head nods quickly, enough to make yourself dizzy. “Need words, love.”

“Yes. I want this so bad.” The words come out quickly, eagerly. Harry smirks at your response, and kisses down your stomach towards the hem of your pants.

He fully removes your bottoms, only leaving your panties, and Harry thinks that you’re just a sight. “God, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he says smiling. His words made you blush, shying away from him by turning your head. “Nuh uh, don’t get shy on me now, my love. It’s just me. You’re comfortable with me, right?”

“Of course,” you respond, remembering that he prefers words rather than gestures.

“I’m glad.”

He continues kissing along the hem of your panties, teasing you slightly by dragging his tongue along your skin. The feeling makes you whimper and buck your hips slightly; wanting more than his kisses.

The fast motion of your panties swiftly being removed catches you off guard as you look down and see Harry looking at your bare pussy with hungry eyes. “Look at you. Fuck.” It takes everything in him to not devour you right then and there, but he wanted this moment to last and for you to enjoy yourself. He has been waiting for this moment the first time you walked into his office, and he couldn’t wait to get a taste of you.

“Harry…” you whimper.

“Yes?”

“Please just lick me already.”

Harry kneels on the floor, kissing your inner thighs before taking one long lick up your pussy. The feeling of his tongue makes you moan out loud from the built up tension that you’ve been filled up with since the beginning of the semester.

“Fuck, so good,” he says, going in for another lick, but doesn’t stop this time. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it as well as giving it kitten licks. Your hands fall to his hair as you tug, and your face falls to the side as you try and drown your moans against the mattress.

You continue moaning, but they’re muffled and Harry looks up at you. “No, none of that. Don’t hide away your moans. Wanna hear ya, baby. Let me know I’m licking you up just right--just how you like it,” he says and gets back to eating you out. You give him an ‘okay’ before wailing out in pleasure.

The thought had surprised you as you’ve never been with anyone who made sure you were feeling good and alright. And you absolutely loved it.

Harry’s fingers enter you, pumping and curling and finding your g spot. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Who got you this wet?” He teases.

“You.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You, Mr Styles.” Although you have been calling that more than you called him Harry, his name coming out of your mouth as you’re a moaning mess makes his cock even harder. He stares at you above him with dark eyes and nibbles on the skin of your inner thighs.

“You say you wanna explore? That no one has ever taken the time to make you feel good? Is that right, baby?” He says as he continues fucking you with his fingers.

“Mhm. No one has ever fucked me good enough for me to stay,” you say in an innocent and teasing tone, knowing that Harry will be the exact person that will do that for you.

“How about we have a little fun? With a certain vibrator of yours that you decided not to return? Do ya want that?”

“God, yes please.” Harry kisses your stomach, up to your chest, and then your lips before his fingers slip out and he walks over to unbox the new vibrator. It was a vibrator that you were able to put inside you as it stimulated your clit, and Harry has been dying to use one on you the second you showed it to him for extra credit. You heard the toy turn on as Harry played with the settings.

“Ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

Harry sets the vibrations to the lowest setting as he starts to tease your clit with it; slowly circling around it as you moan out from the new sensation. “Does that feel good? Do you want more?”

“Please. Give me more,” you say as you palm him over his underwear, but he pushes you away. “Baby, you’re hard. Let me touch you, please,” you plead.

“This is all about you, so be a good girl and just enjoy this,” he says and you close your eyes, waiting for what’s to come. Harry sets the setting a bit higher. The setting is on a medium level, more stimulations to your clit as Harry moves the toy around. “Holy shit, that feels so good,” you throw your head back onto the bed.

“Yeah? Good thing I told you to keep it. You can use this when I’m not here to fuck you, unless I tell you not to touch yourself and have you wait until I stuff myself in your tight pussy.” The dirty talk is driving you wild along with the vibrator. “Gonna put it higher,” he says and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“Oh my...fuck!” The setting is at its highest along with the part of the toy that is inside you; Harry moving the toy around a bit so it can thrust inside of you. You’re completely thrashing around on the sheets, and Harry has to physically spread your legs apart as you keep trying to close them.

Harry lays beside you, kissing your chest and taking your pebbled nipple into his mouth and sucking on it. Your hand naturally finds his hair and pulls on it as you bring his face to yours, and he gives you a solid kiss. You hold him against you as there were no movements of your lips with his; just the touch of your lips together as you try to control your moans.

As you two part, you scream out, “I’m gonna fucking cum!”

“C’mon, let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” Harry encourages you.

After a few more thrusts and vibrations to your clit, your orgasm washes over you and hits you hard. Your back arched, and you turned, still feeling the stimulation from the toy.

“There ya go. That’s it,” Harry says as he slowly pulls the toy out and replacing it with his hand, gently cupping over you and feeling your wetness as you come down from your high. Your moans have been controlled, and you started whimpering from how powerful your peak was. “You’re okay. Shh. You’re okay, baby.”

You buried your face into Harry’s neck, and he scratches your back, calming you down. After a moment, you lift your head up and lazily smile at Harry, causing him to giggle a bit and kiss you. The kiss didn’t last long nor was it deepened; it was a sweet and loving kiss, and a thank you to him.

“Was that okay?” He asks.

“That was fucking amazing. Never came like that before,” you tell him honestly.

“Well, I’m glad,” he kisses your lips briefly as he couldn’t get enough of them.

“So…” you trail off.

“So…” he repeats.

“Do I get my extra credit?” You ask in a playful manner, and he laughs loud making your heart flutter over the beautiful sound of his laugh.

“Oh, baby. You get more than extra credit.”

feedback here <3

MASTERLIST

[katnissmellarkkk]

Chapter Four

“Dang it!” I bellow eight days later, as my body gives way and topples over, having used too great of force to yank a now dead primrose from the ground.

Yesterday morning I had come outside to discover the yellow evening primroses, the flowers Peeta had planted upon his arrival back in Twelve, had all but died.

And I didn’t even notice. I’ve been so distracted with everything else going on in my life—namely Peeta and his blonde companion—that I entirely forgot about the flowers. The flowers that my sister was named for. The flowers meant to represent her when she was no longer alive to represent herself.

The idea that I could forget the plant, that I let myself lag on the simple duty of keeping them alive and watered and healthy, felt as if I had let my little sister down all over again. It felt as if I’d failed Prim a second time.

And it’s more than I can handle. I can’t even endure the thought. The very implication that I am, in any way, dishonoring my sister’s memory is entirely unbearable. Even if it is just me implying it, inside my head.

But in any case, it looks like the primroses are too far gone and I don’t have even a chance at resurrecting them back to life. I took too long to notice their wilting, I was too caught up in other things, that I let the plants die and now there’s no going back.

For a split second I consider returning one of my mother’s many calls to ask for gardening advice. She has always had a green thumb and been able to grow whatever she set her mind to. I never had any of those skills. I was a hunter by nature, not a nurturer.

No, that was Prim. The soft and gentle one, who loved animals, who could heal any wound she could identify, who could garden and grow herbs just as well as our mother.

And I miss her so much. I miss my little sister so very much that I almost breakdown into tears right then and there, right in front of the dead primrose bush outside my house.

“Katniss?” I hear someone call in the distance. I recognize the voice instantly.

And rapidly get up and make a beeline towards my front door.

Unfortunately he’s determined to catch me. After eight solid days of evasion, Peeta is dead set on catching me at any given opportunity before him.

It’s almost funny how once upon a time it was him who wished to avoid me. It was him who craved distance between us, who acted icy and detached at every encounter, whether forced or by chance.

Now it’s him trying to force an encounter between us, trying desperately to make up for hurting me, trying to still be a part of my life, even after I pronounced our relationship finished.

The bread he left on my doorstep—that I immediately tossed in the garbage—is proof of that. The cheesebuns he left on my counter who met their demise to a flock of birds on my back porch is proof of that. The cookies he baked and passed through Greasy Sae when I went to trade at the new, rebuilt Hob is glaring proof of his efforts.

I did actually eat those but I made sure to do it in private, where Peeta would never know if his token was accepted or not.

Because I don’t want him to think we’re okay. I don’t want Peeta to believe me and him can still be friends, with Bailey Robyn, the uptight, controlling blonde still lingering over his every move.

Okay, maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic. Bailey isn’t residing over Peeta’s every action. She probably doesn’t even know he’s made all these treats for me. And she surely wasn’t sitting by his side in the corner of Greasy Sae’s booth when our eyes briefly met before I stubbornly stormed out.

But I feel like she is. I feel her presence overcast in every one of Peeta’s actions, in every deed he partakes in, in every moment I run into him. Maybe it’s only inside my head but it’s enough reason for me to avoid Peeta. It’s enough reason that I wish to stand by my words eight days ago and cut him directly out of my life. With a chainsaw if necessary, I wish to cut the invisible cord that has tied me and him together for so long now.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls again, his arms grasping my waist just in time to prevent my escape into the house.

“Go away,” I mutter under my breath, ire and ache still seeping off me even after a week separating this moment here with our last interaction.

“Why are you upset?” He asks, a little breathless now from the race to my front door. But even tired, concern still manages to leak into his tone. His blue eyes still show anxiety for my well-being.

And it’s still not enough to thaw me.

“You know why,” I say rigidly, pulling my front door open and shoving his hands away from me.

“No, no, I mean,” he quickly tries to correct his question. “I meant, what’s happened out here that has you upset?”

I audibly huff, my eyes about as warm as a popsicle in a snowstorm. The last thing I want to do is stand here and recount just about anything to Peeta, especially in regards to the way I’m currently feeling.

Especially after the last time we spoke about our feelings, when I chose to let him in and allowed him to see the vulnerable parts of me that I never trust anyone with.

Only for him to turn around and side with Bailey over me.

But knowing how persistent Peeta can be when properly determined—his intensity to train like a Career, Brutus’ murder and him warning District Thirteen about Snow’s incoming attack all fly to the top of that list—I merely gesture widely to my backyard, where the dead flowers lie.

It only takes Peeta a moment to click it all together, to his credit. Though I’m hesitant to even offer him that right now.

“I’ll replant them,” he instantly offers, like a dog begging to fetch his owner a carcass bone.

“Don’t bother,” I say, about as rude and uninviting as humanly possible. “It’s not your responsibility.”

I’m just stepping into the house when Peeta’s hand shoves on the door, hard enough to keep it open. For a split second, I contemplate putting all my strength behind it and slamming his fingers in the door. But even as mad as I am—even as wounded as I am—I won’t physically harm Peeta.

After all, he already lost his leg once about I tied it in a tourniquet. I may have saved his life but I also cost him half a limb and that thought alone stops me from nearly taking his fingers off too.

“Katniss, I want to,” he pleads and his eyes are so big and blue and I feel my heart involuntarily melt a bit upon at the sight. “I want to replant them.”

I release an unconscious breath, for the first time in over a week not completely hostile towards the boy with the bread, who in my eyes, completely turned his back on me. Or so it feels. “I’ll just end up killing them again, Peeta. I’m serious. Don’t even bother.”

“Then I’ll tend to them,” Peeta throws out, getting more and more desperate the more I refuse, it seems.

I’m about to brush off his offer once again when another voice joins us. “Oh, let him do it, sweetheart. The boy needs a hobby besides baking,” Haymitch chimes in, standing at the bottom of my porch, looking drunk as ever.

“You love that baking is his only hobby,” I shoot back at the paunchy, old man.

“Well, not anymore. Since you two started fighting he’s been making me fat. I need a break.”

I’m about to come back with another comment, probably one to suggest Haymitch doesn’t have to eat everything Peeta brings, when we’re joined by a third presence.

Of course, she has to join us. Bailey can’t seem to let Peeta go anywhere without her nowadays.

“What’s going on?” She murmurs, looking around at all our tense body language. Well, at mine and Peeta’s tense body language. Haymitch is currently sitting on the bottom step of my porch now, as relaxed as Buttercup is in the window.

Peeta opens his mouth to respond but then shuts it again, glancing back at me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he doesn’t wish to discuss his offer to help me with his girlfriend or if it’s the fact that he clearly knows I dislike the notion of Bailey in my business, but either way I’m a little pleased when he closes his mouth and adverts eye contact away from the blonde.

Instead it’s my drunken mentor who elaborates. “The girl’s flowers died. Your boyfriend just wants to replant them.”

To my utter astonishment, Bailey seems amendable to the idea. “The flowers for your sister?” She inquires, looking right at me. I shoot her a quizzical—and perhaps slightly unfriendly—look out of the corner of my eye but she continues on anyway. “Peeta, you should help her plant them again. Especially since you let them die-“

But I’ve heard enough from her—and everyone else here, for that matter—and I turn to Peeta, my hand still holding the doorknob tightly, ready to slam it shut. “Fine,” I cave, my tone anything but grateful. “Go ahead and replant the primroses. If that’s going to help you, then go for it.”

I don’t wait to hear a response from any of the parties now camped out on my property. Instead I shove Peeta’s fingers off my door—first time I’ve touched him in eight days—and throw it shut with such a force I feel the walls in my entryway shake.

“She’s always been a spitfire,” I hear Haymitch mumble as three sets of footsteps make their way further from my porch.

I barely catch Peeta’s response. If I hadn’t been standing by the door, unintentionally listening to hear what they may be saying, I would have missed it altogether.

“That’s the best thing about her.”

/

It’s just mere hours later before I’m disturbed once again. This time not by a crew of three but by one solo intruder.

“Sweetheart?” Haymitch barks, evidently not too keen on the fact that I decided to turn every light in my house off after returning home from the Hob.

“Go away,” I mumble out, knowing well and clear that he can’t hear me from upstairs. I’m in my bedroom, lying in the safety of my own bed, in my own private sanctuary, where I do not wish to be disturbed by anyone at any cost.

Of course, it only takes a few minutes of bumping into things and cursing for Haymitch to track me down. “Girl, it’s six at night?” He says incredulously.

“So?” I snap, as he turns my light on, effectively blinding me.

“Did you just forget about dinner tonight?” He asks, his voice neither kind nor hostile. In all honesty, he just sounds puzzled.

“Why are you in my room, Haymitch?” I murmur, rubbing my eyes until they adjust to the beaming brightness and pulling myself upwards now. Off his dismissive glance, I let out a deep sigh. “I wasn’t hungry.”

Of course, we’re not really talking about me skipping a meal. I highly doubt Haymitch truly cares if I miss dinner by my own accord. He surely wasn’t too interested in my meal intake when he brought me home from the Capitol and dropped me off on my doorstep.

No, we’re referring to the weekly dinners me, Peeta and Haymitch have at the old man’s pig sty. The same dinners I’ve brought Delly along to, that Haymitch is constantly passing out drunk during, that Bailey has been crashing nonstop since arriving here in Twelve.

When I came home from trading at the Hob tonight, I decided I was done with those dinners. I don’t need to subject myself to bossy Bailey any longer, and my resolve to keep Peeta out of my life as much as humanly possible is still strong. Despite the fact that I agreed to let him plant the primroses in my garden again and tend to their growth, I still don’t wish for us to be friends. I still don’t want to subject myself any further to him and Bailey’s exhibits.

And I figured no one would mind my absence anyways. At least not for a few dinners. I knew eventually Haymitch would try to push me to come back and Peeta would probably ask me very sweetly to join again, but I didn’t think the first night I skipped would be a huge production.

And okay, maybe there is a small part of me who deep down hopes if I refuse to come, Bailey may be disinvited in order to make me feel welcome again. It’s a long shot and not one I’d consciously admit to counting on, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small, minuscule part of me wishing for that to happen just the same.

Haymitch glances at me suspiciously now. “You’re always hungry, kid.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most enthusiastic eater I know.”

Okay, he is blatantly confused apparently. His drunken goggles are blurring his perspective of reality, it would seem.

In any case, I flop backwards on my bed and roll away, hoping if I ignore my mentor long enough he’ll just evaporate into thin air.

But for some reason, Haymitch is weirdly dogged tonight. “Come on,” he urges, shaking my shoulder a bit too roughly. “I know the boy always says you’re just like me, but this little display is over the top, Katniss.”

I roll my eyes. “Why do you even want me at those dinners, Haymitch? You have Peeta and Bailey there.” I can’t stop myself from throwing the extra emphasis on Bailey, as immature as it may be.

However, the old man isn’t interested in dignifying me with a response. “And Delly. And Johanna. And Annie Cresta.”

That catches me completely off-guard. “What?”

In the time since the war ended and I returned to Twelve—or rather, was exiled to Twelve—no one from the other districts have visited. I have barely seen anyone I know in the last few months, outside Haymitch, Peeta and Delly.

“Some of which are anxious to see you at dinner,” he adds, gesturing for me to get up.

I shoot him a mordant glance. “Johanna’s anxious to see me?”

“I said some. Meaning Delly and Annie,” he clarifies. Off my still hesitant expression, he reaches down and tugs on my wrist, trying to get me out of bed.

“Fine!” I exclaim, feeling strangely embarrassed now as I realize that our roles are suddenly being reversed. I’m the one who always forced him out of bed, who made him come to meals, who fought with him to hurry up and get moving.

In the end, I don’t bother cleaning myself up or trying to appear presentable. Johanna and Annie won’t care and Peeta doesn’t get to care anymore.

And it wouldn’t matter anyway. Even if Effie Trinket or my entire prep team were here, I’d never stand a chance of looking anything but plain next to Bailey.

It’s not that I care that she’s so blatantly pretty. It’s just that her looks are one more thing about her presence to be bothered by, and that list is getting long and extensive. Even after her apparent approval of Peeta gardening my primroses, even after no negative interactions in eight days, I still sense hostility with her. And I still can’t stare at her without feeling my stomach churn.

Because every time she’s around, I know I’m about to be the odd one out. For whatever reason, outside of Delly, the people I care for, hold a deep affinity for Bailey Robyn.

And it bothers me above anything I can express. It bothers me beyond words, beyond measure, beyond any sense of feeling.

“Look who I found,” Haymitch announces as we enter through the threshold of his filthy residence.

“Katniss!” Annie exclaims and tosses her arms around my neck, despite the fact that we’ve never been too close. I can’t even remember the last time we had a conversation in person. The only true communication between me and Annie is the letters she sends, the ones filled with details of her life in Four and Finnick’s son. The ones I rarely respond to, but always read just the same.

Still, despite the fact that Annie might as well be a glorified stranger to me, I return the embrace, instinctively at first and then, simply because I want to. Because no one besides Peeta has given me any sort of affection in months and I miss it. Now that Peeta has put conditions on our relationship, I am hungry for any physical touch at all.

It shocks me to realize, in that moment, just how completely starved I am, for closeness.

I hug Annie for far longer than I think anyone watching anticipated but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems to welcome it too.

Then again, her husband died and left her with seemingly no family at all to help raise their baby. So perhaps she’s just as desperate for a human touch—I suppose besides her son—as I am.

I don’t receive the same welcome from Johanna, unsurprisingly, but as soon as me and Annie break apart, she shoots me a satirical glance and pulls on a piece of my hair.

“Ow!” I exclaim, my thick brows furrowing in confusion. “What was that for?”

“It was sticking up,” she explains with a shrug and then smirks. “Did you just roll out of bed and come here?”

“Did you?” Her outfit is just denim pants and a low cut t-shirt. Not that different from my attire.

“Yes. And I’m not ashamed of it.” She runs a hand over her hair which has grown out to about length with her shoulders. “But I know how to use a hairbrush, at least.”

I roll my eyes as she nudges me. “This is dinner,” Haymitch deadpans as he makes his way to the table. “Not a Capitol Beauty Contest.”

Jo examines the unwashed table as we follow the grumpy man’s lead. As of right now, the table is completely void of substance. “Doesn’t dinner imply food?” She asks and Annie laughs lightly, suggesting she was thinking along the same lines.

“Haymitch doesn’t believe in cooking himself,” I retort, earning a look from the old man. “He’s waiting for Peeta to arrive with food.”

“You’re more than welcome to provide the meal, sweetheart.”

“And what are you providing?”

“The residence the meal is served at.”

“And what a residence it is!” Exclaims a completely different voice, a higher pitched soprano.

And like clockwork, three blonde heads round the corner of the dining room, abruptly joining the party.

Delly looks as enthusiastic to be walking with Peeta and Bailey as I am to be in their company right now. Which she further evidences by hurrying to the seat at my right.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a grin,” Haymitch remarks as he pulls out a bottle of white liquor and pours it into a half-clean glass.

“Wonder why that is,” I murmur out loud before thinking better of it. After all, Haymitch seems to care for Bailey more than me nowadays. I should probably not stir the pot before the food is even presented before me.

But he doesn’t reply back. Even if he did, I doubt I’d notice anyway.

Because, in the flash of a second, the attention of the room is completely shifted.

I knew Bailey was coming with Peeta. She’s practically glued to his hip at all times of day, almost as if she’s afraid to let him out of her sight. But it would seem that Haymitch did not inform Johanna or Annie about Peeta’s new relationship, effectively catching them both by surprise at the additional dinner guest.

And there’s little room for doubt to anyone with eyes that they’re together. Their hands are practically singed as one, in an airtight grasp, her manicured nails intertwined with his long fingers.

For a split second I wonder if that’s what my hand looked like inside Peeta’s last week. I wonder if this is what Bailey saw before her, when she caught us roaming through town at the crack of dawn.

“Barley?” Johanna says in a shocked voice.

It takes a moment for her comment to compute in my brain. “Bailey,” I correct, trying to be helpful. Though I’m unsure where she even managed to get the name Barley at all. Especially if Haymitch didn’t warn her about the girl Peeta was bringing and I strongly suspect he didn’t.

Jo looks at me like I’m insane for the amendment before turning back to Bailey and Peeta. “You’re dating Bailey Barley?” She say incredulously.

Bailey Barley? Is that a nickname? Now I’m the one who’s completely lost at sea, feeling like there was a good chunk of time I somehow missed.

Bailey’s blue eyes stare into Jo’s now, not exactly friendly but not as belligerent as I’ve seen her before. As I saw her last week.

I don’t know nor do I understand what they’re silently communicating, but I do comprehend one thing without a doubt.

Johanna knows Bailey. Somehow, someway, Johanna knows Bailey even more than I do.

Peeta doesn’t seem too confused though. He doesn’t even seem fazed by the exchange at all. Instead he drops Bailey’s hand—not soon enough, in my opinion—and moves to set some kind of meat and potato meal down on the table.

“Where did you get the meat?” I ask abruptly, recognizing it as deer. I just shot my first in a long time only the other day. How on Earth did Peeta get deer meat around the same time I did.

“I traded a cake for it. At the Hob,” he explains nonchalantly, avoiding my bewildered eyes now.

I just stare at him for a second, debating on even further commenting.

The Hob is where I traded the deer after killing it. Peeta literally baked a cake and traded it for meat, just because I wouldn’t speak to him.

He literally traded a cake so I could eat the meat that I hunted myself.

Something about that scenario vindicates me slightly. And I have to wonder if I’ve become sadistic with time and solitude.

My attention though is pulled back to Johanna and Bailey now. “What’re you doing in Twelve?”

Bailey takes her seat, between Haymitch and Peeta, with grace. “Peeta and I met in the Capitol,” she states simply. “I decided to come here and spend some more time with him. Get to know him a little better.”

As if to punctuate her words, she places one dainty hand on top of Peeta’s and gives it a squeeze.

I can’t even fight my eye roll.

“I see,” Jo murmurs, casting a sideway glance at me, none too subtle. “Well, it looks like you did... that.”

Delly snickers into her water glass and I don’t miss the way Bailey shoots her an irritated glance. Peeta seemingly does though. Haymitch is already too tipsy to care if an actual fight breaks out among us, his white liquor kicking in quick.

Annie on the other hand, who I’ve always believed to often be oblivious to all those around her, decidedly cuts the tension here. “Well, I’m hungry. Peeta, pass me a plate.”

And just like that, we’re having one of the most awkward meals I’ve ever had to endure.

Read More On AO3

[snootlestheangel]

Shifter AU where Bailey meets Ghoap

Just a little blurb of a fic idea/wip I may not get back to for a while.

@stuffireadandenjoy

If cats could cry the way humans did, with rivers of tears and runny noses, Bailey would be sobbing.

But cats can't cry like that, and she didn't dare make a noise as something flew overhead. It was a bird, this much she knew, but a threat nonetheless. She was still rather small in her cat form, and large birds of prey still posed a threat.

The bird circled once again before landing on the ground next to the truck she had taken residence under. She tried her best to hide against the large tire and hope no one would notice her and would continue on. But the bird, a raven, seemed intent on searching every little nook and cranny for something. Bailey wanted to relax, wanted to believe that the raven posed no threat to her as they were typically scavengers, but something just felt off.

It was a rather large raven, in her defense, and it seemed very determined to find what it was looking for. Almost too intelligent to be just a normal raven, but rather a Shifter. The thought didn't ease Bailey's anxieties about getting discovered, as the Raven could easily be a ploy, a way to trick her into thinking she was being saved only to throw her right back into hell.

Bailey can't tell if it's a miracle or a curse that her little heart didn't stop the second the raven laid eyes on her and excitedly hopped up and down.

This about confirmed her suspicions that the feathered stranger was in fact a Shifter, but it certainly didn't make her believe they were here to save her. She hissed and swatted at the bird's beak as it hopped closer, making soft calls to her. She managed to hit its beak, and the Raven jumped back in surprise, hitting its head against the bottom of the truck. It shook itself out and quickly hopped up onto the fence in her view. It settled there, quiet and looking down at her with a tilted head. A light on the outside of the building next to them casted an eerie glow around the Raven, and all she could do was sit and stare at it in hopes it would get bored and fly away.

And then it began to call. Every few seconds it would let out a series of calls, beckoning for another of its flock to come near. Bailey wanted nothing to do with the flock, or with this Raven, but she was frozen, stuck in place with fear gluing her feet to the concrete.

Then the footsteps. Quiet to a normal person's ear, yet loud enough for her sensitive cat ears to pick up. Big, heavy boots tramping through the grass nearby as the person approached.

The Raven seemed to recognize the person, as it called a final time while bobbing its head up and down. As the boots hit concrete, just behind the truck she hid under, Bailey watched in horror as the Raven hopped down from its perch and landed next to the truck. It motioned at her with a thrust of its head, yet keeping its distance. It was almost funny to her, the way this large bird respected her space after being barely scratched by tiny kitten claws.

"Got something, Johnny?" A gruff voice, barely above a whisper yet so loud all the same, called out to the Raven. The Raven hopped up and down a couple of times before beckoning back towards Bailey's hiding spot, one which was honestly poorly thought out on her part.

The light from the building quickly disappeared as the man got on his knees and peered under the truck. Brown eyes shrouded in darkness widened slightly upon seeing her, yet she backed slightly at seeing the intimidating figure. A skull, presumably a mask, covered most of the man's face, and what it didn't was swarmed with dark cloth.

"Easy, not gonna 'urt yah." The man muttered as he adjusted his position to reach under the truck and pull her out. He was British, as best she could tell, and sounded nothing like the people that did this. But she didn't care. She didn't want anyone near her, she didn't trust anyone, and simply wanted to go to sleep and wake up to see this had all been a terrible nightmare. So she hissed and growled and swatted as his gloved hand came near, and he simply pulled it back with a quiet huff. She thought it was exasperated, frustrated that she refused his "helping hand", but it turned out to be a laugh as his eyes crinkled, head shaking ever so slightly.

"Wanna come out yourself, then?" He asked, but she didn't answer. Didn't nod her head or give any indication that she even understood him. She curled in on herself, the heart wrenching desire of just wanting to go home burning under her skin. She wanted to shift only so she could cry, but she couldn't. Not here, not now.

"We're gonna get you out of this, yeah? I know it's hard, and it's scary, but you just gotta trust us for a bit." The masked man said, once again reaching his hand out, the palm up. Bailey took a deep breath before slowly unfurling herself and crawling towards his open hand. She let out a nervous cry as she was hoisted into the air before being gently tucked against the man's chest. She was sitting on the top of his vest, safely nestled away.

And she only just realized how cold she was, and just how warm the stranger was. She let out a soft sigh as she tucked herself into the little spot, and the man's other hand came up to gently hold her in place. Warm, and safe.

The Raven landed on his shoulder, cawing quietly. The man nudged him with his head, helmet knocking against the bird.

"Good bird."

[empressofthelibrary]

8 18 25 Birds of Paradise

8. Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate?

Oh hell yes you know these dorks have petnames for each other. This alone is gonna be a long answer, so I'm putting it under a readmore

Dick started referring to Bailey as his Guardian Angel, which eventually shortened to Angel. This was, in part, because it was his suggestion when she was trying to come up with a hero-name. She turned it down in favor of Golden Eagle, preferring a more secular vibe. However... He also developed a bad habit of getting in trouble as his civilian self whenever he happened to be passing through Central City. Just, y'know, by sheer coincidence. Which was an excuse to keep an eye on how she was taking to the hero life. And not because he liked having the strong lady carry him to safety shut UP Tim. So the nickname sticks, and -- mysteriously -- dashingly handsome masked vigilante Nightwing starts using it too, which leaves Bailey too flustered to question why, exactly, he calls her the same thing that irritating newshound friend of Wally's does.

It's a bit before Bailey comes up with a nickname for him, and the first one she does she swears she'll never speak aloud. But in her head, she starts calling him Bluebird, not just because of the giant blue bird on his chest, but... The sound of his voice puts her at ease. Just being near him for a bit has her walking on air for hours. She's got a crush and she's got it bad. But she can't let him know, or he'll distance himself from her. Which would make everything super awkward, and that's just not acceptable. So she carefully edits and filters everything she says to him, making sure nothing that can be construed as anything but platonic comes out.

Bailey has a habit of using endearments like "sweetheart," "darlin'," and "dear" in that friendly Southern way. And she does this with everyone... Except Dick. Which he's not jealous about. At all. But someone gets it into their head that he is, and gives Bailey the heads-up that he's feeling left-out. So Bailey, really worried and upset that this plan has backfired so badly, plucks up all her courage and tries something.

She walks over, nudges her shoulder into his. "Hey. Thanks for saving my butt back there, Birdie. I owe you one." And promptly skedaddles walks away very calmly. It's not quite the same as calling him her Bluebird, but it skirts close enough that she's feeling vulnerable and nervous.

('Bluebird' becomes a name just for the two of them, spoken in private)

(She called him 'my beloved' Exactly Once and it instantly went on the 'nope' list alongside 'puddin'.' She has no idea why, but they both bothered him for some reason and that's all the reason she needs to never use them)

18. Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?)

I dunno about putting notes in lunches, since Bailey isn't much of a cook, but she sticks notes on the bathroom mirror and on the fridge when she can't be there to say things herself. And, given their busy schedules, they end up missing each other a lot. Post-its become a common occurrence and method of communication. It's often simple "I love you"s and "I hope you slept well." "Remember to eat something today, don't make me call you" "Did you take your meds yet?" Once, Bailey finds a note with "I've missed watching you sleep" scratched out, the words "Ignore that it sounded less creepy in my head" scrawled on another note beside it, both stuck to her vanity mirror. She laughs so hard she cries, and tucks them both into the shoebox she keeps all their momentos in.

25. Who needs more assurance?

Depends on the day. They're both constantly pushing themselves to be at their best 24/7, and they both take failures and mistakes hard. But every time Dick starts to go into one of his "I am responsible for everything, ergo every bad thing ever is my fault" spirals, Bailey is there to tell him "I love you but that's stupid and here's why." And every time Bailey's demons get a little too loud, Dick's there to remind her she isn't facing them alone anymore.

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Schemes and Dreams and Kisses and Things” (Rated PG)

Summary: In the hopes of getting a first kiss from Crowley, Aziraphale hangs the largest ball of mistletoe he can find over his desk. And then ... he waits. (1514 words)

Notes: Written for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt 'mistletoe'.

Read on AO3.

Aziraphale looks up.

He looks up again. 

He double-checks obsessively to see that it’s still there. 

Why wouldn’t it be? He hung it up only a few hours ago. Then he checked on it – twice. He looks, on average, three times every five minutes.

His neck is beginning to smart.

He tacked it up good and tight. There's no reason for it to fall. Besides, if it falls, it would fall right on him. No need to keep checking. 

That’s what he tells himself.

But a minute later, he checks again.

Aziraphale had waited until after the wine had been drunk, the cookies eaten, and a sated Crowley had retreated to the sofa in the bookshop's backroom before he hung the mistletoe directly above his desk chair, making sure it was in the perfect spot for Crowley to catch him sitting under it. It's the largest ball of mistletoe he could find - a massive floral bezoar wrapped in red velvet ribbon and adorned with a silver bell. Three poor birds have flown into his window already, attempting to get at the thing.

There should be no escaping this for either of them.

Aziraphale is determined.

He has every intention of sitting underneath the darned thing until Crowley gives him a kiss. On the lips, the forehead, the cheek - it doesn't matter. Just some combination of Crowley's mouth on his skin would be deemed acceptable.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been more than casual visitors in one another’s daily lives going on five months now. One might even say they’ve become closer to intendeds. In the traditional sense. Crowley drops by, they have tea, they talk, but that's the extent of it. To date, as far as securing a kiss is concerned, they haven't even come close.

Sadly, mistletoe is the best idea he’s had for getting one. 

Of course, he should probably learn to say the words, “Crowley, I really wish you would kiss me,” before relying on props like this semi-parasitic shrub. Regardless, he’s going to sit there, book in hand, and wait for Crowley to notice. Because what’s the use of mistletoe if Aziraphale points it out? He might as well go up and kiss Crowley, right? If that’s the case, he should have done it months ago.

God, Aziraphale realizes with wide-eyed intensity, I should have kissed him months ago.

Aziraphale glances up again and sighs.

Yes, he should have. But when it comes to Crowley, Aziraphale can be a bit of a coward. He's not too proud to admit that.

He’s not going to push. He’s waited 6000 years. What’s another one? Or ten? Or hundred? Now that they’re together, he’s going to let things progress at their own speed. 

Even if that speed is the excruciating crawl of another seventy-five human lifetimes.

A groan.

A mumble.

A curse.

A shuffle.

These are the sounds of a demon rising to greet the day.

Well ... the afternoon.

And Aziraphale’s brain stops working.

There had been several close calls when Aziraphale thought Crowley was getting out of bed, but he simply rolled over and fell back to sleep.

Not this time.

Aziraphale feels every step Crowley takes, the wood floor creaking as he navigates a path with eyes shut to Aziraphale's small kitchenette, putting on a pot of water for coffee. Aziraphale hears Crowley hum to himself - a mixture of an ear-worm Christmas tune and a song Aziraphale vaguely recognizes as being performed by the band Queen. 

A love song to a velocipede, he thinks?

Aziraphale taps his toe anxiously as he waits ... waits ... waits, shifting positions, trying to figure out which version of him reading Faust seems more casual. With his elbow resting on his desktop? Or him reclining back in his chair? 

Aziraphale pops bolt upright when he hears Crowley click off the stovetop and pour. He crosses his legs when Crowley's heavy footsteps head his way, then uncrosses them when Crowley finally emerges. He's dressed in the same clothes he fell asleep in - swanky black trousers and jacket, a grey silk shirt, his glasses fixed firmly onto the bridge of his nose. He miracled the wrinkles out of his clothes and his hair into a semblance of neat waves, but he still looks like he slept in the gutter outside. He walks in carrying two steaming mugs, raising one as an offering and a greeting.

“Uh, hello, my dear,” Aziraphale says, fighting with all his might not to glance upward. 

Eyes half-lidded, Crowley sets one of the mugs in front of Aziraphale. “Hey, angel. Here ya go.” 

“Oh. Thank you. That's very kind of you." Aziraphale toys with his mug, turning it left and right. The coffee is cloudy, but not with cream. A sniff tells him that Crowley topped off his mug with a generous dollop of Bailey's. Thank goodness! he thinks. Liquid courage. Even with this good fortune staring him in the face, Aziraphale doesn't lift his mug to drink. "Any plans for today, dear boy?"

"Hmm ... not really." Crowley yawns. "Thought I might just hang 'round here, bother you if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," Aziraphale says. "It's always wonderful having you around."

"Great. Oh, by the way, your book’s upside down." 

"Uh ..." Aziraphale flips to the cover and discovers that yes, indeed, it's upside down. So much for casual. “Thank you.” 

"Don't mention it. I'm headin' back to the sofa. You should join me, read your book there."

"Should I?"

"Mm-hmm." Crowley takes a sip from his mug. "How else am I to bother you if we're in two separate rooms?"

Aziraphale nods. "Yes. I see. Well, in that case, I'll be right in."

"Fantastic."

Aziraphale sighs as Crowley passes in front of him, staring into his cup, missing the mistletoe entirely. 

That was a disaster, Aziraphale thinks. One for the record books. 

Wasn't he determined to sit under the mistletoe until Crowley kissed him? 

Yes, but he doesn't want to turn down an invitation to spend time together either. 

Maybe he can bring the mistletoe with him into the backroom, sneakily set it up in there. Crowley probably wouldn't notice if he Aziraphale hung it not so sneakily. He looks like he has one foot stuck knee-deep into unconsciousness as is. 

A step through the threshold, Crowley stops when he notices Aziraphale isn't following him. He takes a step back and looks at him - book closed around his index finger, cheeks pink, his lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes aimed down at his feet. He looks embarrassed about something. 

And disappointed.

It can't really be because Crowley interrupted his reading. Aziraphale has read that book thousands of times. Which is probably why he was reading it upside down. More of a challenge for him.

But Crowley didn't get up for coffee. 

He got up to give Aziraphale his Christmas present.

Early.

Mostly because Crowley can't wait. 

If he doesn't give Aziraphale his present now, Crowley will think up a dozen reasons why he should wait.

A dozen bullshite reasons.

"Aziraphale?" he strolls over to his angel, waking inch by inch with every step he takes, and sets his coffee mug on the desk.

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale looks up. "What is ...?"

With a sleepy but mischievous smile on his lips, Crowley puts a hand behind Aziraphale's neck and kisses him, drawing out the moment before, giving his angel all the opportunity in the world to tell him to stop.

But Aziraphale says no such thing.

Crowley’s mouth is soft and warm and tastes like Bailey’s, but what Aziraphale loves about this kiss is it’s in no way urgent, the way high-romance novels make people believe all kisses should be. According to the lovely publishers at Harlequin, first kisses must be desperate to be passionate, painfully so. 

Crowley kisses Aziraphale as if he's claiming something that has always belonged to him, something he lost track of, and he wants to savor it. Crowley kisses Aziraphale as if they could stand there all morning long, all day long, and kiss, and Crowley would be perfectly content. This is where their Tuesday is going to begin and end - with Crowley kissing Aziraphale.

Crowley pulls away grinning, but Aziraphale looks dumbfounded, not a single word left in his head to express the thoughts sparking off one by one like fireworks.

"Wot?" Crowley asks, mildly self-conscious that his plan may have not gone off the way he'd hoped.

“Uh ... oh ... mistletoe?” Aziraphale asks, eyes darting up towards the obvious culprit behind this moment.

“No,” Crowley says. “I’ve wanted to do that for months now. I just never got the chance.”

"Oh."

"So ... you gonna let me bother you?" Crowley teases, and for the first time, Aziraphale catches on to the fact that bother in this context means kiss.

Perhaps more.

And yes, Aziraphale definitely wants that.

"That sounds ... lovely." He stands from his desk chair and takes Crowley's hand, leaving his ridiculous bundle of mistletoe, and their coffees, behind.

[corvus--rex]

Another one that's soundly asleep and not abandoned. Non-canon compliant, and all 7 of them are lgbt+ (I also may, possibly, be projecting onto Keith - just a little). And Lance is a they/them enby.

~*~*~*~

Liberating the planet Artrax was the easy part. Eliminating the Galra presence was simple. Voltron’s Paladins had done their job in securing the planet’s freedom. No different from any other occupied planet they’d been to. The Artraxians were holding a celebratory festival both in honor of the Paladins and in anticipation of joining the Voltron Coalition. Not complicated. It wasn’t something they hadn’t done many times before. And while every planet’s traditions and customs were different, they more or less knew what to expect. At least, they thought they knew what to expect. They were apparently wrong about that.

Allura dropped into her usual seat at the head of the dining table with a heavy sigh, the tablet in her hand clattering to the table’s surface. A lack of her usual composure was evident in the way her shoulders slumped, the annoyance and displeasure clear on her face. She sighed again before facing the Paladins.

“I’ve just spoken with Artrax’s leaders. They are going forward with the celebration in our honor and over joining the Coalition,” she said, heavy with exhaustion.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’,” Lance said cautiously.

“The Artraxians have a very rigid society when it comes to gender roles and sexuality. They are also insisting that, as distinguished guests, we are to dress according to their standards. At the very least I got them to agree to modify their fashions to our anatomy. But they will not back down from their views on gender. Not even for us. Alteans may not believe in those strict lines, but they do.”

“And combined with their enhanced sense of smell, especially when it comes to hormones and pheromones, there’s no way we can get around it,” Pidge noted disappointedly.

“Unfortunately. Please know that I would never ask any of you to do something that makes you uncomfortable in that way. But they would consider it a personal insult not to attend, or abide by their customs. And their trade routes are invaluable to the Coalition. I am so sorry.” Allura slumped back into her seat, gaze dropping to the table.

The room was silent for a long minute as they all considered their options and what the Artraxian societal standards meant for them. Three fifths of the Paladins didn’t identify with their assigned genders and none of them, Allura and Coran included, were straight. Hiding their sexual orientations was manageable, their gender identities far less so. Neither Lance nor Pidge in any way liked the idea of being forced into presenting as their assigned genders. After expanding their wardrobes beyond what they had worn into space, there was no telling what Lance would appear in on any given day, while Pidge’s remained as non-gendered as physically possible.

It had only been a few months since Pidge had come out to the team as agender, aromantic, and asexual. “Triple-A Queer” they had called it. They had known for some time before, but their disguise to get into the Galaxy Garrison was important to their self-imposed mission to find Sam and Matt, and so allowed everyone to believe that they were male. Lance, on the other hand, had never made their semi-fluid nonbinary identity a secret. Being bisexual and nonbinary at the Garrison had been an unpleasant experience at times, until the day when Tommy Bailey was harassing them for it again and Hunk simply appeared behind Lance without a sound, glaring. Tommy was too afraid of Hunk after that to try anything again.

While Lance and Pidge – as much as they hated it – could power through the discomfort of dressing to their physical sex, it was a little harder for Keith. He had kept it a secret at the Garrison, Griffin’s homophobia and “teasing” about Keith’s parents was bad enough. The only ones who had known were Shiro, Adam, and Garrison medical staff. He figured his life was hard enough being the gay, orphaned, golden boy without adding his trans status on top of it. His recovery time after top surgery was dismissed (by him) as having been sick, and hormone shots as being for specific, undisclosed allergies. (“Yeah, I’m allergic to being female,” he’d told Shiro with a laugh when they decided that was going to be the “official” story.)

He’d been off hormones since not long after leaving the Garrison, and told the team shortly after settling into the castle. He wanted to, but even if he hadn’t, it was going to show itself sooner or later. He’d rather they were prepared for bitchy, PMS-ing Keith, followed by angry, period Keith. It was not a side of himself he liked anyone seeing, but without access to his hormones, they were going to whether he liked it or not. He had the grace of the gods in that respect. Shiro handled it the same way he always had – from a distance and with care. Pidge was right there with him, commiserating over a bodily function neither of them wanted. Hunk had two moms and a younger sister, so he understood, even if it was from the outside. It was the same for Lance, with both of their sisters, one of whom was their twin, so they’d seen what she went through a little more closely than they’d wanted. Allura and Coran didn’t understand human reproductive cycles, but understood that it was an uncomfortable process, and did what they could.

But all that meant that he was going to be the one out of all of them in the most discomfort. It had been years since he’d had to pretend like he wasn’t in the wrong body, and now he was having to face that all over again. He knew that if they’d had any kind of leeway, Lance and Allura would be there to help him to be as comfortable as possible while stuck in a dress. But they didn’t. They were going to be in a modified version of the planet’s inhabitants’ traditional costume. None of the paladins knew what it looked like, but from how upset Allura was, it couldn’t be good.

Keith decided to rip off the band-aid. “So, what do these outfits look like?” he asked.

Allura played with the tablet she’d brought with her for a moment before turning it on. The images projected over the table were of the Artraxian people modeling their traditional clothing. Their race was in an eternal transitional period between reptilian and avian. Mostly scaled, and more closely resembling their reptile ancestors, they also had patches of brightly colored feathers and slightly wing-like arms with retractable membranes. The feathers that grew along their shoulders, forearms, and thighs were short, and nearly mistakeable for scales if it weren’t for their texture. They also had feathers that grew in a swath from forehead to neck, but these were longer, some trailing down their backs. Artraxian scale colors ranged from pale, leaf green to deep forest, those colors determined by regional origin. Unlike what the paladins would have expected of either reptiles or birds, Artraxians were a live-birth species, and so had some features more like Earth mammals, most notably two close-set rows of three breasts. Six-titted aliens was not what they were expecting. But combined with their long, thick, tapering tails and wing-arms, the paladins could see why their clothes would have to be adapted for human and Altean anatomy.

The clothing itself was as brightly colored as their feathers. It appeared light, soft, and silky, but was wrapped around their bodies like bandages, ultimately not leaving much to the imagination. Some of the wrappings were sheer, showing off the scales beneath. The females wore a two-paneled, A-line skirt over their leg wraps that ran to mid-calf, completely sheer and split at the sides to the waist. Males wore something similar, but slightly shorter and opaque. Both sexes went barefoot, no doubt a necessity due to their sharp claws. All five paladins looked over the projection with varying degrees of curiosity, anxiety, and fear.

“We’ll be providing the Artraxians with our physical measurements from here, and they will send us our…outfits,” Allura said, eyeing the female Artraxian with trepidation.

Keith was sorry he’d asked; he felt sick.

Lance was sitting directly across from him and was the first to notice it. Leaning over the table slightly, they nudged his foot. “You ok?” they asked quietly.

“No.” It was all he could get out before bolting from the room.

Shiro started to get up, but Lance stopped him. “I’ll go. No offense, but I don’t think a cis guy is what he needs right now.”

“Want me to come too?” Pidge asked.

“Maybe in a little bit. I think too many people will be too much for him.”

Pidge nodded at the same time Shiro spoke. “I’m not offended, Lance. You’re the best suited out of all of us to talk to him right now.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll call if I need anyone.”

Lance paused in the hallway, considering the possibilities of where Keith was most likely to be. Training deck? Always a possibility, but it didn’t seem as probable at that moment. He’d been genuinely upset, not just aggravated or frustrated. So not there. Holed up in his bedroom? Maybe, but it felt a little too obvious. The shock of seeing what he was expected to wear had made him bolt, and Lance knew he’d gone to ground. Ok, so not his bedroom either. The castle was not a small place, but there were only a handful of places Keith would go. If not the training deck or his bedroom, he had most probably run for his favorite of the observation decks, and that was where Lance set off for.

Walking the halls of the castle, Lance enjoyed the feeling of the soft fabric of their long skirt and fluffy cropped sweater. They liked the way the silky material flowed around their legs, and how their sweater floated and felt like it was made of clouds. It also made them think about their own coming out process. How their twin sister Rachel was the first person they’d told at age 12. Barely a month before their thirteenth birthday, Lance had taken Rachel on the short walk to the beach, to the spot away from where even the locals stayed. Their favorite place where they went swimming all summer long. Where their older siblings taught them to surf, and where their mother had shown them the constellations and sparked a love of space in Lance.

That’s where they’d gone with Rachel on a hot day in June. Lance remembered standing ankle-deep in the warm, clear water. They couldn’t look at her, too nervous about what she’d say. But looking out over the Atlantic, they’d found the courage they needed, and told Rachel everything. About how they’d been thinking about how they noticed they liked girls ok, but also boys and nonbinary people too, and considered themselves bi. It led them into talking about their own gender. That they didn’t feel much like a boy, but that they felt kinda like a boy sometimes, kinda like a girl sometimes, but mostly felt nonbinary. Lance told her that they felt like gender didn’t matter as much to them, and that while they didn’t feel the need to change their name, their preferred pronouns going forward were they and them.

Rachel had sat on the beach and listened. She thought it over while Lance was talking, and when they were done, she got up without a word, left her flip flops on the sand, and joined her sibling in the water. She crushed them in the tightest hug of their life and told Lance that they were her twin, nothing in the known universe could stop that, and that the absolute most important thing was that they were comfortable in their own skin. If there were a few tears before they left for home, no one needed to know. With Rachel firmly beside them, they told the rest of the immediate family that night, getting almost the same reaction from them as they had from their twin. Their father Diego was only a little more reserved, admitting that he didn’t understand the nonbinary part, but as long as Lance was safe and happy, that was all he cared about. By the time Lance had left Earth, Diego had come to understand what being nonbinary meant and that those five years of expressing themselves freely had been the happiest of Lance’s life.

The memory of that summer day made them smile to themselves as they walked, but also made them miss home and family all over again. With a sharp shake of their head, they remembered what they were coming up to the observation deck for. They knew Keith understood how important this party was, but being forced into that was more than enough to cause that kind of reaction. Ironically, Lance thought, the Artraxian male fashion sense was actually feminine-leaning, non-gendered by human standards and didn’t bother them as much as they thought it would, although it still did upset them. But that was them, not Keith. Especially with what Artraxian women wore, they knew how much it upset Keith. And that was why they were there. Not to try to convince him to wear it, but to be supportive. Let him know that both they and the team had his back with this. That Lance would be there for him however he needed.

Lance knocked on the door, walking in when they didn’t get an answer anyway. Keith was sitting on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees as he watched the stars. Lance curled up beside him without looking over.

“Hey. It’ll be ok. I know it really, really, sucks, and I wish we didn’t have to do it, but we do. We’re all here for you, you know that right?”

Keith sighed, rolling his head from where it rested on his knees to look over at Lance. “I know you are. Doesn’t make it any easier. I thought I was past all that. Having to pretend to be something I'm not. It’s been hard enough being out here without even the possibility of access to my T shots. And now this. I think I would have been more ok with it if it didn’t look like that.”

“Yeah, I get that. Kinda exposes almost everything. None of us like it, even if I know Allura and Shiro are gonna look amazing in it, but Pidge and Hunk will be really uncomfortable. Hunk doesn’t like going to the beach without a shirt on unless he’s really comfortable with the people around him. And I don’t think I can even imagine Pidge in anything girly, let alone that. And even I’m not really comfortable with it. Way too much skin on display, y’know? I mean, I say this while wearing a crop top, but…” they trailed off with a soft laugh and turned to face Keith. “Really what I’m saying is that we’re all uncomfortable. I know it’s not exactly the same, but you’re not alone. If you need to stay close to one of us for the party to feel safe, it’s ok. No one will mind.”

Lance thought that the soft huffing sound that came from Keith might have been a laugh until they heard the sniffle and realized that he was wiping away tears.

“Thanks, Lance,” Keith said softly.

“Anytime, Samurai.”

It was barely a day after transmitting the team’s measurements to the planet’s surface before an unmanned shuttle landed onboard the castle. They realized that color preferences hadn’t been asked of them, and that their “outfits” were all individually wrapped in black tissue and labelled with their names. Coran busied himself with handing out the packages and sent Allura and the paladins off to change.

“Hey, Lance?” Keith called quietly.

They turned to him and immediately saw the discomfort and anxiety all over his face. “Hey, it’s ok. What do you need?”

“I think I need to call in that favor.”

“Ok. Would having Allura there help?”

Keith thought for a few seconds. “…Yeah, I think so.”

Lance turned to where the princess was making her way across the pod bay floor. “Allura, I have a question for you.”

She stopped and waited for both of them to catch up with her. “Yes? What is it?”

Lance looked to Keith first for his silent confirmation before continuing. “Keith’s gonna need some help with this. I figured you being the only girl here would help with making him as comfortable as we can.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Allow me to change and then we can meet.”

“My room?” Lance suggested.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*