#maybe? there should be less emphasis on Saying Sorry and more emphasis on Lasting Change? is what I'm specifically saying most of the time

[thedreadvampy]

As an ace arospec person, I don't think your first post about Martin was aphobic. But the way you just keep digging yourself into a hole is the real issue. When you first saw people had issues with your comments, you could have just made a post that said "I'm sorry that my wording implied that being aspec is infantilizing. It wasn't my intention, aspec people are valid" or something like that. But you just kept going and now you're speaking on things you have no real authority on (qprs etc.) 1/2

and you're constantly playing the victim card which is really infuriating when aspec people are just trying to educate you and figure out if you can be trusted. And maybe that comes off as rude but you don't know how many times I've looked up to someone or enjoyed their content and then found out they're aphobic. "I lost my dad i lost my snake i don't know where I'm at housing wise AND i somehow managed to start more fights while i wasn't looking." Just apologize and stop dragging this on. 2/2

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

Hm. No?

Every time something blows up, I get two rounds of people in my inbox, half of whom are angry that I'm not answering their questions and half of whom are angry that I am. I am not "playing the victim card," because I'm not having a bad time because people are criticising me and I wouldn't be having Not A Bad Time if they weren't, if you scroll back in my blog prior to the last week you may notice this is Not New. This is however my fucking blog, which I maintain specifically because I need somewhere to put things that are overwhelming me or sick in my head, so ex-fucking-scuse me if I say "haha I'm having a Bad Time" when haha I'm having a Bad Time. I haven't said and nor do I mean "I'm having a bad time so nobody's allowed to criticise me" or "I'm having a bad time And It's Your Fault," the only reason I have ever connected the two things is to say "I'm having a Bad Time which is why I'm being a bit slow off the mark answering messages about this, but I'm not ignoring them"

No, I'm not gonna fucking apologise for eventually caving and answering a question I have repeatedly said "no I don't think it's my place to speak on that so I'm not going to" after people have repeatedly demanded I Answer To The Anonymous Jury. Jesus fucking Christ like I'm not up here at my podium giving a speech on My Opinion On QPRs unasked I literally. have been repeatedly told I'm being shitty and evasive for days for Not Unequivocally Stating My Position On Ace Issues so nah son I'm not going to now feel like it's a great imposition by me to answer that question.

And no, I've said this before and I'll say it again, an apology is literally meaningful only as a commitment to action and I'm not comfortable or willing to make a show of apologetics in order to appease people or avoid criticism. I will not say "I'm sorry that my wording implied that being ace is infantilising" because, given that, once again, I at no point even mentioned infantilising and only mentioned aro/ace identity to say that it wasn't what I was talking about, I don't think my wording did imply that. I'm open to being proved wrong but literally so far nobody's even explained how they read it that way, so no, I'm not fucking sorry that I ~implied that being ace is infantilising~ because as far as I'm concerned I Did Not Do That. and I won't be sorry for it until someone can point me to where the fuck I did that and I can identify what I did wrong and what change is needed. Am I sorry that people have been hurt? Definitely. Am I sorry if people don't feel safe interacting with me? Very much so. But I'm not going to ~say sorry and move on~ because that would be hollow, performative and dishonest.

[teh-nos]

This is not a shallow post, honest

Reading Thor-era MCU fic of late I noticed that a few writers drew attention to Loki being very covered-up clothingwise, and at first I was like "...is he?" because he's not abnormally covered compared to men you might see in the street, but he is by MCU standards, isn't he? Not that I've bothered to been able to check before writing this post, but I feel on fairly safe ground saying that most of the MCU Leading Men had got their tits out shirtless by about the end of the second Avengers film, or failing that had spent much of their screentime wandering about in unusally tight t-shirts. By contrast Loki doesn't even have naked arms until... whenever. When he got shirtless in the Loki show (thanks for the confusing title there, Marvel, it makes discussions so much easier) it was because a robot...thing?? stripped him, not because he decided to do it himself. And I, of course, have A Theory about this, based on not much more than conjecture. Don't worry, though, I shall include some pics in this 'essay' to keep things lively and entertaining.

Hang on, I need to Google something.

This is taking longer than I expected it to. Please wait.

Okay, fuck it, this'll do. Sorry for not having sufficent sensible images of these characters on my PC.

Okay, so: an attempt has been made. Not in a meme way, I mean I do think an attempt has been made in these films to make one of these men look smaller than the other even though the difference isn't as vast as fanfic turned it into. You know how in fic Loki's at least a foot shorter than Thor and all skinny and weedy and whatever? I reckon this partly comes from the fact that in terms of plot and character it does kind of make sense that Loki ought to look like he does in fanfiction. He should be weaker-looking, a bit shorter, a bit - dare one say - "drowned rat" next to Thor Whose Power Is He Carries A Big Hammer And We Go On About Him Being A Warrior. We invent a contrast because it feels like there's more of one than there actually is on screen. We all know what the wee shifty one should look like! If he doesn't actually look like that then we'll just say that he does!

And in costuming terms Loki is dressed in black (slimming! slenderising!), with diagonal stripes (narrowing!), a quite strangely-tailored flappy coat (significant in some way! i assume!). His shoulders are less emphasied, the arms that we later learn are fairly muscular are fully covered to hide any obnoxious biceps, and aside from maybe a bit of neck skin showing (whoreish!) we shall see naught of his actual body - he will not be getting his tits out shirtless until such time as he gets his own show and exists not in contrast to Big Beefy Thor but - at last! - as a proper MCU Leading Man. Because as soon as Loki gets kidnapped by the TVA, this happens:

No wait I didn't mean that one I don't even have that one on my PC why would I have that one of course I don't have it pretend you didn't see that.

I mean this happens:

Oh no, normie clothes! Normie clothes being a shirt with the traditional 'Marvel Dudes in shirts' fit (ie: a bit too tight) and the sleeves rolled up, and there's a tie (a TIE! how standardly manly!) and I reckon there are two factors at work here, aside from the aforementioned "we no longer need to pretend this man is short and weedy" thing:

Yes, they have made him look "normal." I know it's a common complaint and sometimes a bit... fervently expressed, but I do think it's a valid point. This show has obviously been made for a 'casual viewer' to some extent. They've seen some of the MCU, and they might feel a bit odd about everyone wearing capes all the time. Let's be real here: the Marvel-nerd audience was already going to be watching this show anyway. The people who know how many Spidermans (Spidermen? Spidersmans?) there are, and who can name well over two of the Avengers. Some of the aesthetics have been changed to appeal more to the 'casual' people, I do think that's what's happened here. (But as one of those people who can't tell you the correct plural of "Spiderman" I don't mind it. It worked! Here I am! Annoying everyone with my noobness! Hi!)

...shit what was the second thing again? Dang it, I've forgotten. Sorry about this, give me another moment to get my thoughts back together.

Oh, that was it: this is now the man we want the audience to think is hot. Some of them did before but we didn't necessarily want them to. And yes I agree that is a bit insulting, given that they did not cast an uggo here. Or even someone short and scrawny. On which point...

I don't want to say they should have cast someone who already looked they way they dressed him to look because obviously that all seems to have worked out perfectly fine in the end, but they could have. In some ways it is an odd choice, worthy of being remarked upon in long rambling tumblr posts that didn't have anywhere near as many photos as were promised earlier on. (Sorry about that.) There's a bit of a mismatch going on here between someone my granny might have called "a sneaky wee bastard" and someone she'd describe as "a six-footer." And this is why in a lot of fanfic this has been... shall we say 'corrected' in some way.

(Not-quite-an-aside: in fic that is specifically about the Loki show and not the other bits of the MCU, Loki usually does not shrink in height and width. This, I would argue, is partly because of the different visual reference points (AKA "we've seen his tits him in relatively revealing clothing") and partly because he's being paired off with different characters, and neither of the usual two (Mobius and Sylvie) are being contrasted as physically stronger than him. If anything those fic writers tend to go on about how tall he is. And now I'll stop before I say anything about obvious height-difference kinks and the fact that yes, your readers have noticed.)

In conclusion,

[hoodieofholland]

Prove you something // Mob!Tom Smut

Summary: you get jealous over a meeting Tom have with another woman without your knowledge, and he has to prove you something.

Pairing: mob!tom x reader

Word count: ~4.5K

Warnings: smut (18+), fingering (f.), oral (f.), language.

A/n: I’m a sucker for mob!Tom, judge me, but these last contents we’ve been receiving for the past month are the blame. here we go again, enjoy.

Masterlist

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As a mob, Tom had to deal with a lot of different people throughout his busy day. You were used to the meetings all the time, even when it was past afternoon, hiting the midnight. Patiently, you'd wait your turn to share some good time with your boyfriend, unless he wanted you to stay for the day, besides him, in the conference room.

Today was slightly different. Tom was held for hours in the conference room, talking business, while you distracted yourself with some other work. But by the time it was around 7p.m., you were bored enough to walk up the place, wanting to know when he'd be over.

Wearing your favorite pyjamas, you walked through the silent house, and just as approaching the conference room, you heard an unusual type of voice.

"Listen, Tom, I'm not here to discuss the shitty situation..."

It got your attention, made you stop in your tracks to hear better, all because it was a female voice. Normally, Tom would always meet with men, them being the mob leaders around London. Not a woman.

You tried to sneak around and see if there were another voice in the room, but as soon as you put your ear to the door's thick wood, Harrison came up behind your figure, making you jump.

"Holy shit!" You screamed in whispers. "Jesus, Harrison, you scared the hell out of me!"

Harrison didn't make any effort to cover his laughter, making you shush him.

"Sneaking around, uh?" He teased through laughters. "You know what Tom says about listening behind closed doors. Someday it might come back to you".

Trying to contain your madness, you cross your arms around your chest and snort. "It's meant for you guys, you idiot. He's not talking about his girlfriend".

"Are you really sure?", still holding his teasing smile, he tilts his head a little. Eyeing the door again, he pouted. "Why didn't he invite you tonight, then?"

"Said it was some small business and wouldn't take that long". You shrugged, though you knew it was bullshit. Tom had already been inside that fucking room for what seemed forever. It wasn't any small business talk, for what it matters.

"I can tell you that there's not small talking inside there" he pointed his chin in the room's direction. "Melissa is right there".

A little confused, but still not wanting to give your feelings away, you stay cool with your voice. "Who is Melissa?"

Harrison’s eyes narrowed and you can tell he had no idea you didn’t know about a single thing that was going on inside there.

“Melissa. The majoriest woman in this whole fucking city. She’s, like, the only female mobster leader in England”. The emphasis in his voice made you feel the message he wanted to deliver. You felt even somewhat a little weak, as if the weight of the presence of that woman could be sensed in your lungs.

Harrison quirked a brow, waiting for your answer, but you didn’t say nothing. Why was Tom lying to you? Why he didn’t want you to know that this woman was right inside the room with him?

“Is he alone there?” You questioned Haz, who shakes his head negatively.

“No, I was there a couple of minutes ago. Just grabbing a cup of tea”. He lifted the mug on his hand. “There’s also her guard or something. The chick is a bit... ugh”

You felt the weight again. “What the fuck does ugh means?!”

Harrison was about to explain, but seeing your exasperated reaction, he just smiled teasingly again. “I think someone is jealous”.

You puffed your cheeks out in frustration, wanting to tug on your hair, or maybe on Harrison’s.

“You’re being ridiculous” you tried your best to sound neutral about the fact that your boyfriend was inside a not very large room with a woman you didn’t know nothing about, but it was getting harder as Harrison seemed like having some fun torturing you.

“Don’t worry, y/n, that’s not what I meant” he chuckled softly and gave you a apologetic smile. “It’s just business, that’s all. You know Tom is far from being suspicious”.

You knew that very well, and if you were being honest, that was not your concern. That didn’t make you less jealous, though. Tom was the most faithful man you knew, not only with you, but with his mates. He could do anything for you and he surely had already proved that you’re the only woman in his life.

Anyways, the thought of that powerful woman inside the fucking room was driving you mad.

“I wanna go inside”, you stated, already turning on your heels. Harrison was quick to grab your wrist, trying to stop you from entering the room.

“Y/n, what the fuck, he doesn’t want to-“

But you were too fast. Yanking the door open, you hear a slight gasp coming from Harrison and the entire room goes silent.

The first thing you notice is Tom, who were crudely interrupted by you. He looked tense with the conversation, eyes heavy, shoulders rigid. His elbow was supported by the large desk in front of his chair, while he seemed to gesticulate with his hand whilst talking to the woman, Melissa. His gaze was directed on you, a questioning look on his features, which didn’t softened like it always did when he talked to you.

“Sorry, I told her-“ Harrison was quick to say, but Tom interrupted him.

“What took you so long?” Ignoring your presence, without changing a single word with you, Tom averted his eyes to Harrison, who came out behind you and sat back at his chair.

“She wanted to come” he answered quietly, unsure of what to say.

Tom looked at you once more, face serious, as he seemed to calculate what say next.

“Why don’t you go wait in the living room, y/n?”

You open your mouth, just to close it again immediately. You didn’t recognize the way Tom was talking to you, almost harshly.

"What, Thomas? You don't enjoy a good woman's company? C'mon, let the girl sit with us" Melissa, who you just had the worry to look at said, putting her long polished nails over her chin. She eyed you up and down before speaking again. "What a beautiful girl you have, by the way. You didn't tell me she was all of that".

Tom closed his eyes briefly, jaw clenching, as he sighed heavily in frustration. You knew he was getting mad, and though you still didn't know why, you made up your mind.

"I'm fine, gonna wait in the room. Sorry for-"

"It's alright", he shook his head and looked back to Melissa. "It was good talking to you, but I need time to figure it out before we decide anything", Tom stood up from his chair and waited until the woman did the same. "I'm going to have a talk with my men and then I call you back".

Melissa smiled, but you could see very clearly that it was nothing but a false smile. "I'll keep in touch".

Tom just nodded once and waited for Melissa to walk out of the room, guided by Harrison, who was equally tense as he made his way to the door. Before she exited the room, Melissa had an eye on you again, a tiny smile making its presence on her face.

You shivered, too aware of the dangerous and power Harrison told you she held, clear in the way she wasn't afraid to show she was staring at you.

When the doors were closed, you couldn't lift your gaze from the floor. However, it was possible to see Tom by the corner of your eyes and the way he was supporting both of his hands on the desk, staring so intently at you that you bet he could see your goosebumps.

"Now that you have my attention", he started, voice deep. "Won't you say what was so important that you couldn't wait 'til I was over?"

You didn't say anything, neither looked at him, frozen on your spot.

"I'm talking to you".

His stern act had you conflicted. He would always use it in bed with you, but never got so mad at something that you did. Something that you didn't even know what was all about.

"You were taking too long, so I wanted to see if everything was alright", you answered, keeping your voice loud and clear enough, not wanting to give him the impression that you were intimidated by his words.

Tom snorted. "That's bullshit. I've already been out until later than this and you stayed in our room".

You roll your eyes, voice cheating you as the irritation consumes your thoughts. "Well, in these nights you weren't with a girl inside here".

Tom's face changed and a brow arched as a trace of a smirk made its way to his face. You had lost your though posture and you knew it.

"Are you jealous?" He chuckles, incredulous, "Really?"

You snort, unfolding your arms. Looking relaxed is the last thing you seem to be able to do right now, but also you didn't want to sound so immature being jealous over nothing.

"No, I am not. I'm just mad that... that you didn't tell me who you were meeting with." You corrected him, though you were too aware it was pretty much a lie. With an unwanted whine, you continue "And why you didn't let me in this time? You see, you just left a whole amount of suspicious things to my imagination."

Tom narrows his eyes, a mix of curiosity and confusion evident on his face.

"You don't actually believe it yourself, do you?" He questioned, a suspicious tone in his voice. A bit ashamed, you glanced down and nodded two times.

"I mean, Harrison just told me she's the biggest woman in London, or some shit like that" you shrugged involuntarily and felt tired, as you started to realise how silly you must be sounding.

It was pretty obvious to you that none of that should matter. Actually, it never did. Tom never turned his head to another woman but you, since you met. He never talked about any other girl than you, and you could tell he bragged about how much of a "lucky motherfucker" he was, as Harrison started complaining about Tom's random rambling just the other day.

Tom had done nothing but adored you since the first time he called you darling. And now you were overreacting because of a common meeting of his.

Tom sighed heavily and offered you his hand. Looking at it for one second, you reach for him, and he brings you closer. "That's probably my fault".

You tilt your head, not understanding his point. Tom sits down back on his chair e mention for you to take a seat on his thigh.

"Don't get me wrong, darling. I let you come to meetings only if I'm one hundred percent sure there's no harm on that. When I'm with friends, not my enemies" he caress two slender fingers through your cheek and you almost close your eyes in please, if it wasn't for his deep stare, full of concern and comprehension. "That woman is nothing but trouble for me and my men. She doesn't like us, I don't like her, but, apparently, one of my man messed up with one of her best one, so I was trying to settle everything down before one of us start a fucking fight about it. Obviously, she hates me and every single one of my mates, and that's why I didn't want you here today. My most important job is to keep you safe, y/n. I've already dragged you too far into this mess, I can't expose you even more."

By the look in his eyes, anyone could tell how Tom meant it. He worried about you and your protection had become a topic of discussions too much for your liking.

He shifts his position, making it more comfortable for you, hand resting in your cheek. His expression earned an even more stern look, almost in pain as he looked deeper in your eyes.

"Do you really think that you should worry about Melissa?" He asks, voice low and soft.

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you tugged at his white plain shirt's collar, breathing slowly as you tried to manifest more of your composure than before.

"A little" you confess, shrugging slightly as if it wasn't that big of a deal. But for Tom, it surely was.

"Darling... why would you be jealous over that woman?" The pad of his index finger touched in the slightest move your bottom lip, tracing delicate paths over it. "Why would you ever be jealous over any woman? You know I love you". He looked up once again, a brow arching as he seemed to doubt his own conviction. "Don't you know?"

You shake your head yes and bite your lip. "Of course I do".

"Then why did you have something in your imagination?"

You sigh quietly. "Yeah, it was silly", taking his free hand and in yours, you play with his fingers, trying to hide your embarrassment. "I'm sorry-"

"It's alright, love", he gives you a small yet sweet smile. "You see, I get jealous all the time. Much more than you do. Think it's fair enough".

You giggle. "Yes, you do. I hate that and did the same. Sorry".

Tom shakes his head and brings his face closer to yours, planting a soft kiss in the corner of your mouth. "What a silly little girl you are. How would you ever think I'd ever have eyes for another girl, when I've got the prettiest with me?"

You release a breathe, your grip at Tom's shirt stronger, pulling him closer. "You'd be really dumb if you did, yeah."

Tom smiles in your mouth and you do as well. "Guess I haven't been showing my girl how much I appreciate her properly lately" he whispers, heading his lips along your jaw, to chase a soft spot on your neck. "Tell me, love, would you like to feel it?" His low and seductive words sent a shiver right through your spine, making you release a quiet moan in anticipation.

"Do you want to feel how much I adore you?" He breaths in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, as carefully grabs your thighs to get you to straddle his lap. "How much I adore your pretty little moans and whines? Those wonderful sounds you make just for me?"

You nod yes, adjusting your position on Tom's lap, rubbing against his crotch on accident and feeling he grunt with the contact.

"Use your words, my love. Need to hear you". He insists, running both his hands to your ass, grabbing each cheek firmly. When you whine a timid 'yes', he smirks against your smooth skin. "Always so eager for me", with precise movements, he guides your hips to meet his, creating a perfect friction between both of you. You could feel his hard against your pulsing center, claiming for more.

Tom lets out a struggled sigh, as if he was holding himself back when feeling your center pressing against him. "See? Only you can make me this hard".

You gulp, trying to catch your breath as your hands make its way to his trousers, but Tom is quick to deny it and stop you. "No, pretty girl. As much as I'm aching to feel you right now, I need to prove you something" he smirks playfully. His right hand releases your bum and goes to your front, making a smooth path in his way to your breast. He put your hard nipples between two fingers, pulling it softly. You moan and move your hips over his lap. Tom's jaw tenses up. "Fuck, darling". He presses his hand firmly on your hip to settle you down, as you smile apologetic.

"Need you, Tom". You whine, arching your back so you were even closer to him.

"Yeah?" He smirks, hand going back to work, sliding inside your pyjamas' short. Tom's brows arch in surprise. "No panties?"

You bite your lip. "When I came down here, I was thinking that maybe we could do something. After you were done".

He chuckled a bit, his cocky smile showing off. "So you were planning on getting fucked in my office?" You only nod once, feeling your center pulse and your cheek heat up. "You dirty, dirty girl".

Tom reaches your pulsing core, a single digit sliding through your wet folds. "God, baby, you're so wet". You moan, letting your weight loose on top of Tom, whose strong arms could handle it. "I barely touched you".

"Stop teasing me, Tom" you claim, eyes closed, as you feel he was threatening to enter two fingers inside you, but collecting them all together again.

"Darling, I think you shouldn't have a word about anything today" he says calmly. "After all, you interrupted my meeting, messed my work up. All because you couldn't wait to get fucked. Do you think you were good, y/n?"

You swallow hard, voice trembling. "N-no".

Tom smiles satisfied. "Yes. Now, though you don't deserve any of that, I'm a man of my word, and I said I was going to show you what my girl is worth of". He gesticulates briefly and you have to take a few seconds to understand he wants you to get up.

You do so, waiting until he gets up too. Confused, you stare at him, who cups your face, kissing the tip of your nose.

"I want you to sit in my chair". He murmurs and you can't help the surprise in your face.

"Why's that?" You frown and he only gestures his head to the chair again. With no other choice, you find yourself doing as you were told.

It was a strange feeling, the soft material of his chair against the bare skin of your exposed leg, where your thin shorts couldn't reach. Strange, because nobody would ever sit on Tom's chair. It wasn't exactly a rule, but everyone did better than risking taking what was his, and that being the biggest and most imposing chair in the conference room, only he could sit there. And maybe that's what entertained him that moment, the sight of you in a place that held so much power as that chair.

It took a good few seconds for you to relax there, and Tom didn't take his eyes from you the whole time. Staring, he would lick his lips, arms crossed over his chest, making his muscular arms very visible for you.

"You know, you could do this. I can picture you sitting here, making demands", he says, as if he was deep in thoughts moments ago, approaching you with hungry eyes. He puts his hands over the chairs' arm rest and lean in you, smiling.

You feel your heart race and try to correct your breathing. "Really?" You arch a brow incredulously. "Don't think I could be so tough".

"You learn this with time, darling", he reassures you, "But I think we'd have to manage who'd be in charge from time to time. I can share it with you, but not give it all. Would you like that?" You knew that by this time he wasn't talking about the mob.

With a charming smile, Tom gets down on both knees and puts his hands in yours. "Yeah, I think", you say in a whisper, too concentrated in his actions to say otherwise or anything else.

"Mmm. You're such a delicate angel", he opens your legs slowly, grabbing the back of your knee to pull you in to him. You gasp in surprise, holding the arm rest to keep yourself steady. "I imagine how you'd look like taking control. Perfect, I know".

It was a sight to see, a powerful man like Tom on his knees, a position you never thought you'd see him at. He looked like he was at your mercy, under your control, just as if he was there to please you, though he still did take the command.

"Tom, please", you whine, not giving a care about sounding desperate anymore.

"Patient, my love. Wanna take my sweet time with you", he pats your leg so you can lift your hips to help him take off your shorts. "Cause that's what I appreciate doing with you. Take every single part of you, make you mine. Slowly". He brings you closer and you pant when he kisses the inner of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours. "Take care of my girl, as she deserves".

You feel yourself growing anxious as you tried to stay still when he brought his lips up to your core. "You smell so good, love. Can't wait to taste it". His lips make no hurry to reach your folds, hot breath hitting your aching center. He looks up at you, wicked smile, as his mouth hover you, teasing.

By this time, you’re already dripping, walls clenching around nothing for the expectation. Finally, you felt Tom's lips connecting with your pussy lips, skillful tongue smoothly licking your arousal, spreading it all over your core.

He put his tongue inside of you, tasting it, adoring the way you'd roll your eyes back with pleasure. "Sweet as fucking candy". He murmurs with his mouth against you, causing vibrations all over your cunt.

You moan when he flicks his tongue over your bud, and tug at his hair. The reaction comes right away and Tom moans against you, putting one of his fingers inside you, but not deep enough, waiting for you to adjust as your walls stretched deliciously. "Can feel you swallowing my finger, baby. You want me?”

"Tom", you whine, arching your back as Tom pushes his fingers deeper inside you. "Please. Gimme more".

"You want more, sweet girl?" Tom smirks, entering you as much as he could, adding a second finger to your pulsing core. You felt the cold of his silver ring against your hot skin, causing you to have goosebumps. Feeling you clench around him, Tom started fingering you, hands precisely moving to stuff you in the most raving way. He took his pace, fast enough to the sound of your wetness fill up the room.

He laps your bud once again, repeatedly, catching it between his lips once in a while and sucking, making you release a loud moan.

You tugged harder in his curls and that's when he realized you were close. "My beautiful girl is close? Can feel you clenching, baby."

You nod once, trying to catch your breath as your hips rock against his fingers. Tom took them out and you almost pulled his hair for that, but he soon replaced it with his firm tongue. "C'mon, darling, fuck yourself on my tongue".

You did so, not caring about your messed movements or your loud noises. Tom was right there, holding you hip down with one hand to keep you steady and stimulating your clit with his thumb with another. It was the most beautiful sight you could have and you were on the verge of your edge.

"You're- fuck, so fucking hot, Tom" you cry out, head falling back. "Shit! 'M close"

Tom started to fuck his tongue inside you again. Your toes curl, your belly burns and your heart couldn't beat faster. Tom grabbed the back of your legs and abruptly brought you closer to his face, keeping his tongue firm and thumb working on your bud. He replaced it with his two wet fingers for a moment, just to speak to you and coax your orgasm. “Look at you, baby, so, so beautiful when you’re coming. Fuck, wish they all could see what a pretty and dirty girl I’ve got right here, angel”.

You moan and Tom can tell you’re about to lose it, putting his tongue back to work. "That's it, love, cum on my tongue, make a sweet mess on my face".

You couldn't hold back anymore. Your whole body felt like sparkles, as you tightened your grip on Tom's hair, chest panting, muscles rigid, voice coming out as the loudest moan of your night. It’s all about you now, what you feel. Tom is right there, holding you, controlling your body squirming with his strong hands.

Tom helps you ride out your orgasm, tongue and fingers never leaving you. His noise bumped into your clit as he seemed to enjoy licking your juices, face still lost between your legs. But when you finally saw him again, you thought you could have another orgasm just from the look on his face.

"Fuck", you pant, still trying to catch your breath. "You're- you're all covered-"

Before you could even finish, Tom got up from his knees and took your face in between his hands, capturing your lips on his. The kiss was messy, clashing tongues and teeth, but it was all pleasure. You could taste yourself, take what Tom had left on his lips. It was sweet - a mix of both of you.

"You're a fucking mess right now" you tell him, a slight giggle coming out of your dry throat, wiping some of the wetness from his chin.

"I know", he smiles back at you, pecking your lips once more. He catches the fingers you used to clean his face and leads it to him mouth, sucking on them gently. "Proudly. Who else in this fucking world can have the pleasure of being a mess with your cum, eh?"

You shove his shoulders playfully and spin the chair. "Well, I think I could truly run things here. Feel very powerful now".

Tom puts his hand on the back of the chair to stop it from moving. "That's because you had me between your legs just a few seconds ago, love", he smirks "But I think we can manage that".

You get up from the chair and put your hands on the collar of his shirt, gripping it between your fingers. "Good", you look up at him, smiling devilishly. "First thing, though, I remember you were here to prove me something".

"Oh, darling" he chuckled darkly. "We surely are not finished yet".

[iamwhoami]

Amazing (One Chicago)

One Chicago

Connor Rhodes knows just what to say to Y/N after Sean Roman breaks up with her.

Warnings: Heartbreak?

Requested = Yes

Y/L/N = Your Last Name

"Are we still up for tonight?" You tilted your head to keep the phone wedged in between your ear and shoulder.

"I don't know..." Sean's voice cracked through the phone and you realized that he was actually outside, "Not sure when I'll get off tonight."

You pursed your lips but understood where Sean was coming from. You both worked long shifts at strange hours so finding time where neither were working was a challenging task.

"Okay, well just keep me posted," You said and you heard Sean chuckle.

"Will do."

Sean hung up and you sighed, unable to ignore the strange twisty feeling in your gut. Something felt wrong, but you couldn't understand why.

You didn't have time to dwell on it long though as Maggie called you and Dr. Rhodes over for an incoming trauma.

~~~

It had been a terrible day. You had lost not only one, but two of your patients today. Logically, you knew that it wasn't your fault, that their injuries were just too severe.

That didn't make it hurt any less though.

All you wanted to do was go home and snuggle Sean on the couch while a cheesy romantic movie played on the TV.

Despite this though, you found yourself standing outside the hospital, not making any move to get into your car and drive yourself home.

The cool air felt good against your skin and you let out a huff of air, watching the misty fog escape your mouth.

"Rough day huh..."

You turned your head to see Connor approach to stand next to you.

"Yeah..." You took a deep breath, "You could say that."

Connor shoved his hand into his pockets, watching the cars pull out of the parking lot and drive away with you.

"You're just going to stand here?" Connor asked, "After the day we've had?"

You chuckled softly, "I guess I am..."

"Is everything going okay with you and that cop?" Connor's voice was slightly strained.

You nodded, "Yeah...yeah it's nothing like that...I'm just reflecting today I guess."

"As we all should," Connor agreed, "Well, you have yourself a good night Y/L/N."

You smiled, "You too."

And with that, Connor turned around and left.

~~~

You left shortly after Connor did, the cold air getting to you. When you got back to your apartment, you sat in your car for another five minutes, your brain a mush of thoughts.

Completely exhausted, you trudged to the elevator, subconsciously pressing the button to your floor.

Fumbling with your keys, you searched for the right one before jabbing it into the apartment door.

"I'm home!" You tiredly called out as you entered, tossing your bag aside, "Man, has it been a rough day."

You weren't sure what you were expecting to see but it wasn't Sean standing there, a very serious expression on his face.

"Are you breaking up with me?" You joked, sliding off your shoes and hanging up your coat.

You meant it as a joke. A joke. It had been a long day and you were trying to lighten your mood.

The colour drained from your face though when you saw the look on Sean's face, "No...you're kidding."

"Y/N," Sean started and you immediately knew what was going to happen by his tone.

"What?" Your voice was barely audible but it could be heard, "Why?"

Sean shook his head, "It's not you Y/N...I just-"

"Save it," You put up your hand, "I've had quite the day Sean...I don't want to hear the reasons right now."

You weren't sure what you wanted Sean to say. Maybe you wanted him to fight you. To still show that he still had some love for you.

He didn't though.

With an awkward nod, Sean walked towards the door and just like that, he was gone.

You didn't realize it was possible, but you were even more drained and exhausted than before and as you collapsed on the couch, you realized just how shitty today was.

Maybe you should have been feeling heartbroken, maybe you should have been feeling hurt. You weren't though.

You were just tired.

~~~

The heartbreak set in the next morning, after you had a well-rested night.

You had woken up and rolled over, still expecting to feel the warmth coming from Sean's body.

What you felt instead was empty sheets.

Your heart ached and you seriously contemplated calling in sick. You couldn't understand why Sean would break up with you and though you did regret not letting him explain the night before, you sure weren't going to call him to ask.

If he wanted to end things then fine.

So be it.

Perhaps that was for the better that you still had to work today. At least you could keep yourself busy.

"Dr. Y/L/N!" Connor greeted you with a smile as you entered the ED, "I hope you good sleep because I could use another pair of eyes on one of my patients."

"Of course," You quickly agreed, this was just what you needed, "I would love to help."

Perfect.

~~~

"That was some great work in the OR today," Connor caught up with you on your way back to the ED, "Look, I totally get it if you don't want to, especially you know with Sean and stuff but I'd love to buy you a drink after shift. Just a celebratory one of course."

You chuckled softly, "Don't even worry about the celebratory emphasis. We broke up."

"Oh..." Connor stopped short, suddenly unsure of what to say. Did you need consolation? Maybe you were the one to break it off, "I"m sorry...I didn't know."

You waved it off, trying to seem indifferent, "Don't worry about it. The train of life moves on whether I'm on it or not, right?"

"Right..." Connor shifted awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"But I will gladly take up on your offer for a drink if it still stands," You tried to ease the tension.

Connor smiled, "Of course it still stands."

"I will meet you at Molly's after shift then," You cracked a grin and Connor's smile broadened.

"Sounds good."

~~~

You tugged your jacket closer around your body as you walked from your car to Molly's.

You weren't sure why, but for some reason, your heart thumped nervously against your chest. This wasn't some date or anything.

Just a celebratory drink to celebrate a successful surgery.

When you walked into Molly's, the first thing you saw was Herrmann and Kidd from 51 talking to Will and Natalie at the bar.

Then you saw Sean...and then Kim.

You were a little hurt and maybe a little envious seeing Kim cozying up to Sean like that. His arm was wrapped around her frame protectively and your heart skipped a beat when you remembered how he used to do that with you.

"Y/N!"

You turned your head to where your name came from and a smile graced your face when you saw Connor waving you over

"I'm glad you showed up," Connor said as you walked over and checked his watch, "I was beginning to worry that you had changed your mind and I would have to drink alone."

"Don't worry," You laughed, "I wouldn't leave you hanging like that."

Connor dipped his head and raised his glass slightly, "Good to know."

You slid onto the stool and within moments, Herrmann was asking you what you wanted to drink.

You ordered and when Connor told Herrmann to add it to his, you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from protesting after Connor shot you a no-nonsense glare.

Once you had your drink, Connor began talking but truthfully, you weren't listening much, just nodding along. Your eyes kept trailing away from Connor, sneaking glances at Sean and Kim together as they laughed at something Natalie had said.

"You know, I wouldn't take it personally if you wanted to call it a night," Connor's voice suddenly broke through your trance, "It has been a long day."

You blushed sheepishly, "I'm sorry-"

"No need," Connor cut you off, "I'm sure we have all felt heartbreak before."

"I know..." You nodded, "It's just...it was so abrupt...I don't know what happened? How did I not notice that things weren't right? That it had gotten to the point where Sean wanted to end it?"

Connor shrugged, "Does it matter now?"

His words caught you off guard. You weren't sure what to say. Honestly, you weren't even completely sure what he meant.

"I mean, why stress on it now," Connor clarified, picking his words carefully, "You're smart, kind, caring...not to mention a talented surgeon...he's an idiot to pass up on someone like you."

You smiled softly, "Thank you..."

"It's the truth," Connor took another gulp of his drink, "It's his loss if you ask me."

From the corner of your eye, you saw Sean glance over at you and you could tell that he was watching you. You ignored him though, knowing he didn't deserve the worth of your time.

"I am really glad I took you up on this," You raised your drink a little, "Now...can we just talk about how amazing we were today in the OR?"

[gottawriteanegoortwo]

An Emo-pression

Virgil gives Roman an acting challenge. Roman rises to the occasion.

Word Count: 1,235

(Read it on A03!)

-

The mood was light in the living room. Virgil and Roman were chatting, reflecting on some of the work done by the group throughout the previous year. In the middle of it all, the running gag of everyone else doing their best ‘FALSEHOOD’ came up.

“I still think mine was the best,” Roman insisted, tilting his glass toward Virgil for emphasis. “In fact, I’d say I’m one of the best impressionists that don’t feel they have to disguise themselves.”

“I don’t know about that, Princey. Any impression you’ve done of anyone else has been overly flamboyant. If anything, you approach it like you were cast to play them in some crappy spin-off.” Knowing Roman well enough meant that Virgil could wag his finger to time precisely when Roman would react with a horrified gasp at the accusation.

“How DARE you! I’m the ac-tor of the group. My skills are not to be belittled! I merely choose to give my characters a little more energy when I play them, that’s all. And besides! The ‘falsehoods’ were our spin on it, so that can hardly count!”

“Then prove your worth as an actor. Give your best impression of me and prove I could cast you in a movie of my life. High-energy is an instant fail.” The challenge hung in the air for a few moments, allowing Virgil a chance to sip at his own drink in peace. It was a risky move to challenge Roman’s bravado, but he couldn’t help the curiosity of seeing what Roman was genuinely capable of as an actor. The prince’s eyes were on his drink, focused as he weighed his options.

“I’ll do it.”

-

Roman paced in a small circle in the living room, flapping his hands to try and shake off any extra energy building in him. Though it was nothing more than a small dare, he wanted to take it as seriously as an audition. It would be as good as - no, better! - than any other acting role he had taken on lately. If he were to play an emo, he’d play the broodiest emo of them all! He glanced at Virgil, who had perched on the arm of the couch. Even if the other looked relaxed, Roman knew he was being watched closely.

“Well?”

“Give me a second. I’m nearly ready. I need to be sure I can be the most miserable of emos.” Roman stopped with his back to Virgil. A long, slow breath was taken to steady himself. He turned, white jacket shifting into a generic, black hoodie. The body language flipped instantly as Roman slouched. A hand quickly moved to undo part of his hair and let it fall over one eye before he folded his arms. This was a challenge Roman was rising to, letting the ‘role’ shine in every aspect of his presentation. Nowhere was this clearer than when Virgil looked Roman in the eye.

Roman was normally animated in his facial expressions - second only to Thomas himself. Right now, there was no trace of that. Instead, his eyebrows were low, his eyes half-lidded as though exhausted. A frown pulled the corner of his lips down in a slight pout that conveyed his distaste with the world and everything that had colour in it. He even had conjured black eyeshadow to add to the part. He almost looked like he spent too much time in the darker corner of Thomas’ mind again, only less panicked.

Virgil had to hand it to Roman - he was impressed.

“Hey, look at that. The prince can be sullen for once in his life. There might be hope for you yet.” Virgil, realising he had sat forward in interest, forced himself to fall back against the couch again.

“I have to change my mindset to channel my inner turmoil,” Roman answered in a low, monotonous tone, “And that includes having three key phrases in my head at all times: ‘angst’, ‘no one can understand me’, and ‘this eyeshadow isn’t dark enough to reflect the darkness of my soul’. ” There was a twitch in Roman’s lips, one Virgil realised was an attempt to not break character with the smugness of a compliment. It was a cliché impression, but what was Virgil himself if not an emo stereotype?

“You’ve nearly got the part, but you can’t make your eyeshadow purple. So I think I’ll have to skip over you. Sorry, princey.” A flimsy excuse given by Virgil to try and backpedal. He wasn’t used to showing how he cared for Roman or dropping his guard like this. A compliment was on the tip of his tongue about how having his hair out in a loose style really suited the prince. He had to stop himself before it got out of hand. It was better to give a rejection and let Roman sulk instead of having to deal with that.

However, Roman had other ideas.

The emo look remained as he broke character. An eyeshadow palette dropped neatly on his hand following a flick of the wrist. It was well-used, leading Virgil to believe it was one from Roman’s personal collection. He popped it open and showed it to Virgil to show the reds, oranges, yellows and purples of the sunset-inspired set.

“TRY ME, BRENDON UREEK!”

The outburst took Virgil by such surprise, he burst out laughing. A hand clamped over his mouth to try and stifle them, but it was to no avail.

“What’s the matter? I think ‘Purple Bitchberry’ would be an excellent shade! Much more fitting than ‘You’ve Got to Pink A Blossom or Two’ if you ask me. Or I could go wild! Experiment with a shade I’ve never used called ‘Night at the Mauve-soleum’ -”

“Oh my God stop, these are terrible!” Virgil tried to counter in a serious manner, only for another round of giggles to knock that plan out the window. His laughs only grew in strength, his own eyeshadow began to glimmer into a dark purple. Nothing as vivid as the time after the mall encounter, but Roman thought it to be like the last sparkle of purple in the night sky. So caught up in a round of laughter was Virgil, he missed the way Roman stopped the teasing and looked on with admiration and a smile.

“Yeah, you’re right. I should try and come up with better names. But if there was to be a movie of your life, you should play the lead role. No one can be you better than you, I think.” Virgil’s eyes shot open in time to see Roman give a light shrug. “Maybe you could check if purple eyeshadow suits me sometime. I’m sure I could better look the part of an emo with the right guidance.” Roman gave a half-bow, allowing his look to return to normal.

“You - you’d wanna do that?” Virgil’s question was met with a firm nod from Roman. “And no hidden conditions for me to do something stupid?”

“As much as I’d love to get you properly fitted in royal attire, I know that’s not something you’d want to do. I don’t mind taking a day’s break from my princely looks and duties if it means I get to do so with you.”

Virgil smiled, that purple under his eyes turned a few shades brighter, and Roman knew he was on to something good.

[realcube]

rq; could you possibly write a one shot about the reader having AD(H)D and has a really hard time focusing on core academics (math, science, english, history) because they feel scared about stimming and/or fidgeting in front of people and so they ask tamaki for help?

tw; very mild angst, fluff, stimming, i use the word ‘embrassing’ too much, swearing

words; 2.7k

it only took a moment of skimming over your latest progress report for you to understand the situation.

you continued to thrive in practical subjects like physical education, graphic design and manufacturing — the three main reasons you managed to secure your spot in the support course — but your core subjects seemed to be lacking.

for the last two years, you managed to score flying colours in all your subjects. but now, it was starting to appear as though your golden era was coming to a close. what was once a report with only scores greater than 90%, was now a range of totals anywhere from 90 to 50%.

this meant you were still passing all of your classes but these grades were only indications of how you were doing now; you knew that if you continued to struggle in all of your core courses, you might not finish your third year of UA highschool.

you simply wouldn't allow for your grades to decline further, so like any good student would, you made a list of ways you could improve.

number one was, of course, study more. however, you were almost certain that discipline and diligence aren't the causes of the issue.

number two was to ask for help from your teacher and although this was a completely valid option, you still felt like the problem ran deeper than your ability to comprehend the material. after all, you had made it this far without having to do so.

before you could even ponder number three, your pen ran out of ink. with a huff, you reach out to grab a new one from your pencil case, until you noticed that in the spot where your pencil case usually sits on your desk, there was nothing.

it was as though the void had caused all your memories of yesterday to come crashing down on you in an instant; it was almost nauseating. yet it, ironically, provided some clarity as to the location of your stationary.

two days ago, after school, you paid a visit to tamaki's house to deliver the gear he had commissioned. however, what was initially meant to be a casual interaction, somehow turned into a game of pictionary (with mirio and nejire there too, of course), for which you needed to bring your pencil case out of your bag. amidst your awkward goodbyes, you must've forgotten to put it back into your bag, hence your pencil case is probably lying dejected on tamaki's coffee table.

this left you with no choice but to throw on your jacket and begin your journey to tamaki's house. fortunately, he only lived a bus ride away from your home, yet you still mentally rebuked yourself for the whole length of aforementioned bus ride due to the fact that every time you would interact with tamaki, it felt like you were digging a deeper grave for yourself.

partially because you always found yourself oversharing with him — not that it was a one-sided ordeal — and you couldn't begin to explain why; he kinda just had a comforting aura about him. albeit you haven’t said anything embarrassing yet but the possibility of that happening was way too large. plus taking into consideration your complicated feelings for each other, leaving your pencil case at his house was a disaster waiting to occur.

or perhaps you were overthinking it. either way, you were now standing in front of his door with your school uniform and backpack on during a saturday afternoon because you had no idea what else to wear.

after ringing the doorbell, you stood as a patient statue in the cold until tamaki reluctantly opened the door and only poked his head out. “hello?”

emphasis on ‘only’, because he was truly committed to not allowing you to see him in his casual-wear, for some reason. a part of him reasoned that there was no way you would expect him to be wearing his school uniform on a saturday, but the majority of his brain was screaming about how he had to hide his clothes from you at all costs. especially since he was wearing socks, comfy trackpants and — most shamefully — a sweater with a small octopus design on it. and what would you think of him if you saw that his choice in loungewear was so childish?! it would be utterly humiliating.

completely unaware that tamaki was having a crisis behind the door, you pulled your most authentic smile and said the line you had been rehearing on the bus, “hi, tamaki. sorry for coming unannounced, but i think i left my pencil case on your coffee table when we were playing pictionary with mirio and nejire.”

“oh.” tamaki was almost too panicked to process what you just said but once he did, he immediately recalled the moment he noticed that you had left behind your pencil case. at the time, he planned on calling you to ask if he could drop it off at your house, but his nerves got the better of him and he decided to keep procrastinating the call until he completely forgot.

though, if he remembered correctly, the pencil case should be lying on his desk after he moved it there in hopes that the convenient location would remind him to return it; which it evidently did not.

“yeah. uh, i’ve got it. i’ll just go get it.” his face tingled with warmth slightly as he retracted it from the doorway, resulting in him finally realising how cold it is outside. in fact, since the eaves of his house shielded you for the climate, he didn’t even notice that it was snowing!

the polite bone in him got to work before the rest of him could react, as he blurted out, “come in, make yourself at home.”

fuck! i mean, it’s not that he doesn’t want you in his house — quite the opposite actually — but rather now he had to dart off to his bedroom before you could catch a glimpse of his sweater. but at least now this gave him an opportunity to change into something less embarrassing.

closing the door behind you, you were now left alone in tamaki’s living room. your eyes followed his figure as he dashed towards his bedroom, “odd.” you murmured to yourself. you weren’t exactly tamaki’s BFF but you were close enough to him that you could tell when he was acting weird.

but you didn’t think to much of it. actually, you were slightly grateful for this weird spike in tamaki’s behaviour because if he doesn’t want you around, that just means you are less likely to overshare and catch feelings, which means better outcomes in the long run, right?

after changing into a plain blue sweater and collecting your pencil case, tamaki strolled into the living room and handed it to you with a weak smile, “here you go.” he almost whispered, patiently waiting for your response so he could mentally prepare himself for goodbyes or another hour (or so) of conversation.

“thank you!” you basically squealed, pulling off your bag to stuff your pencil case back inside. while adjusting the straps on your shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate tamaki’s familiar attire, “oh, i love your sweater; i have a similar one with a cute little octopus on it.”

tamaki concluded that neither of you would be saying goodbye for a long while.

“thank you.” he responded with a soft smile, folding his arms over his chest as he made his way towards the kitchen, “um, so how are you?” he inquired, assuming that it was a pretty harmless question that would simply help get the conversation off the ground while he prepared tea.

“i’m good. but i don’t think i can say the same for my progress report.” you said with an awkward chuckle, standing aside as you watched tamaki put the kettle on. “and how are y--”

“what do you mean?” tamaki asked, disregarding the fact that he didn’t answer the question himself. although, simply put, this was because he found that conversation came more naturally to him when he was with you; or perhaps that is a slight overstatement. he tended to be more curious and inquisitive when talking to you and it wasn’t hard to tell.

until now you and mirio simply brushed it off as tamaki’s interest towards the support course, since you were the one who manufactured most of his gear. yet nejire always teased him as she believed that tamaki’s interest was caused by a different sort of passion.

nevertheless, regardless of tamaki’s motives, you still found yourself consistently answering his questions, “eh, well, i’ve just not been performing as well as i hoped.” you replied plainly with a shrug.

“is that all?”

no matter how many questions he asked, each one still managed to catch you off-guard. “um,” your throat ran dry, which might’ve been a sign from a deity to stop talking, but your swallowing was your way of proving that you did not care. although you will probably regret it later, talking with tamaki always relieved you.

“well,” you started, the lump in your throat growing by the second, “i guess i have a bit of trouble focussing in some classes too. but i mean, maybe it is because i drink too much caffeine? i’m not even sure to be honest.” that was lie, you were  90% sure of what the problem was, but you wanted to hear tamaki’s response before you proceeded, to determine whether he’d be open-minded about it.

“there is no such thing as too much caffeine.” he joked, handing you a cup of tea while he sipped on his own. “so it’s probably something else.”

he’s too good. it’s as if he knew you were withholding information.

“well,” you began once more, trying your best to appear clueless, “i guess moving helps me focus, but no once else in the class does it so wouldn’t it be embarrassing if i was the only one?”

“i don’t think it would be embarrassing at all.” he spoke softly, leading you back into the living room and offer you a seat on the couch beside him, which you graciously accepted. “but if you think it is, then i have something to help.”

before you could say anything, tamaki got up and headed towards his bedroom; leaving you to drink his heavenly tea while he searched. though, only a few minutes passed before you felt his arms slither over your shoulders to hook two clips together by your neck.

“there.” he said with a proud smile, “this is one of my cloaks that i use in my hero costume. you can tie it together so it covers the whole front half of your body.”

observing your reflection in the blackened TV, you smiled upon seeing for your own eyes that everything he said was true. it was like wearing a cape that goes around your whole body, and it had a nice hood! “wow, this is so adorable!” you cheered, then paused, “but how is it going to help me focus?”

“well, you can do whatever you want underneath it and no one will notice.”

ignoring the shady implications of that sentence, you moved your hand around underneath the cloak and he was right! no one would see you fidgeting underneath the cloak, and hopefully the professor’s voice would cover any sounds you made. plus, it looked pretty badass.

“this might work! are cloaks included in dress-code?” you joked, but you weren’t laughing for long as you turned to look at tamaki who was wearing an upset expression with his head hung low, “no.”

“oh.” you sighed, unclipping the cloak and handing it back to tamaki with a slight smile, “it’s fine. thank you for your help, and the tea. it was delicious, but i’ll probably have to start cutting back on the caffeine.” you gave it a chef’s kiss yet he didn’t even chuckle like he usually does. it was almost scary how your true emotions reflected onto him, as it seemed like the whole atmosphere had changed.

“(y/n).” tamaki uttered with a much more serious tone; eyes filled with determination yet trained onto the cloak in his hands. “you shouldn’t be embarrassed-- or at least, I, um, don’t think you should be.”

your eyes widened at how sternly he said the first part; granted, he became flustered when it came to the second part, but it really showed you how firmly he stood by what he was saying. you nodded for him to continue as he looked like he still had a lot on his mind.

“it’s unfair that you have trouble focussing because of what other people think. so my two cents is that you should do whatever you need to do, and, um, not care about other people... well, i mean, you should care about them, but just not what they think about you. because like, you can’t really control that--”

he found himself having to abruptly shut his mouth to stop himself from prattling on any further. especially since most of what he was saying was probably none sense that he mistook for inspirational, or at least that is what he gathered from the shocked look you wore; it was ironic how humiliated he was.

“that’s nice to hear.” you hummed, a kind smile gracing your features in place of the previous stunned expression, “though it’s hard to believe coming from someone as cool as you, tamaki.”

“cool?”

“yeah.” you chuckled, rolling your eyes at his baffled look which he must have been faking. surely he knows how highly thought of and respected he is throughout the whole school. he is in the big three, for fucks’ sake! “there is probably a better word to describe it, but you are one of the most badass people i know.”

“badass?” it was as if all he was capable of doing was repeating these words to you with an innocent yet confused gaze.

“yes!” you enthused, “so, is there anything you even have to be embarrassed about?”

“i do!” he almost whined, and without thinking, he stormed to his bedroom only to grab the sweater he cast aside earlier to show it to you, “look! an octopus sweater, isn’t this embarrassing?”

you deadpanned, unsure as to whether he was joking or not. “stimming is very different from a octopus sweater but go on.” however after a few moments of actually analysing the design on the article of clothing, you exclaimed, “oi, i have that exact same sweater! how is a cute little octopus embarrassing? plus, it would be extra cute on you because you have tentacles.”

in a moment of frustration and wanting to prove a point, he threw the sweater aside and began to sheepishly grab at the ends of his sleeves, “well, you know what’s even more embarrassing? having a crush on someone for three whole years and not having the balls to ask them out! and on top of that, being to nervous to return my crush’s stuff after you left it at my house.”

you weren’t sure if he meant to switch out ‘my crush’ with ‘you’ on purpose or if he was just confused. either way, you found yourself leaning in to wrap the poor boy in an overdue embrace, smiling against his chest as he hugged back. “that was..” you faltered, allowing tamaki to interject with “mortifying” but you were quick to correct him, “i think that was a very unique way to confess, and i'm just glad you did.”

your chuckle that followed was left to echo around the room as tamaki stood still and silent, simply enjoying the comfort in your arms as feeling the pleasure of time escape him. until eventually he whispered close to your ear, “so since i know more about embarrassment than you thought, will you take my advice now?”

you snickered, gently tracing shapes onto his back, “i was going to take your advice either way because if i don’t get good grades and remain in the support course, how will i graduate with you?”

“good point.” he hummed, not-so silently enjoying the relaxing sensations near his spine, “but we are not wearing matching octopus hats.”

how did manage to shoot down your idea before you even proposed it?

[luvnami]

𝐎𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 | 𝐖𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 (here) | 𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 | 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 - Second part to ‘Ocean’! Hope you enjoy it :> Reblogs, comments, shares and likes are really appreciated!!

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @getousuguruwife​ @amjustagirl​ @aliteama​

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - Amnesia, Memory loss, Blood, Mild gore, Death, Blood loss, Corpses, Food, Manga spoilers, Pre-canon and canon compliant to a certain extent, Nightmares, Relationship Issues (lack of communication), Overthinking/Anxious Thoughts, I criticise Nanami’s choice of clothing

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -  Nanami Kento's life has been... Good, bad, and everything in between. He  (and many others) thinks he's mature, independent, the definition of  what a proper adult should be like. But really, the only way he's made  it this far is because you've been holding his hand the entire time. 

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5k

Nanami decides to enter university and get a degree. He casts a life of sorcery behind and turns a blind eye to curses that peer at him curiously on the street. When you text him and ask about how life is in the city of Tokyo, he replies that it would be much better if you were here with him. You choose to ignore the meaning between the lines and tell him that he’ll do great in university; you’re sure of it!

Truth be told, his parents are more than glad to fund Nanami’s ventures and encourage him to do so. As a result, he finds himself engulfed by the world of rigorous studying. Lectures and tutorials drain his time from morning to evening, not to forget project meetings and whatever the hell ‘socialising’ means.

But campus life is invigorating. He wakes up to the smell of coffee and his roommate singing a foreign song with a catchy tune and has time to enjoy a lovely breakfast before he heads off for morning classes. Everything is done in his own time. No one rushes him to save the lives of innocent civilians, nor does the weariness of a day’s fight linger in his bones.

Quietly, gently. That is how Nanami’s time in university goes by. Writing essays on analysing market trends or a project on that sociology elective module he chose is nothing too tricky, especially when one compares it to sorcery. 

He learns to relax, unwinding in the golden hours of the evening with a Murakami paperback and a steaming cup of coffee by his side. Nanami meets new people — people who have never heard what a curse is (though he does find his witchy neighbour intriguing), people who have families at the furthest ends of the earth. Their companionship is refreshing.

You, meanwhile, earn a nice sum from working at Jujutsu Tech. You don’t work directly with curses (something which Nanami is thankful for) and enjoy your time surrounded by nature, treating the younger students with a smile and warm cup of tea. 

You and Nanami decide to move into an apartment where the commute is halfway between both schools. It’s a nice change of pace, really. You wake up next to each other in the blinding morning light, still entangled in the cheap (and slightly scratchy) duvet you got on sale. Nanami presses a kiss between your brows. You smile, your hand warm on his skin. 

“Good morning, Ken,” you croak as the sunlight frames your face.

You lean forward and place your head against his chest. Nanami’s hand strokes your shoulder lovingly as the both of you make small talk on the day’s events, then laughing when he makes a cheesy (and slightly indecent) joke about what he enjoys eating for breakfast. Your heart soars in your chest, catching the upwind and slicing through the clouds. It feels like heaven.

But the sea does not always remain calm and peaceful. Its tides rise and fall with the waxing and waning of the moon, and waves can come crashing down on boats that dare sail through its treacherous waters. 

Nanami buries the constant nightmares of Haibara under his pillow, waking up in the middle of the night with your arms around his waist. He pretends he does not see the curses that linger in the corner of his lecture theatre, nor the ones that stare back in the bathrooms. Nanami slips a pair of spectacles onto the bridge of his nose. His fellow classmates call him intelligent, quiet, but kind. 

He wants to believe that, too.

☆*: .｡.

Nanami joins a hedge fund company after graduation. 

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Ken?” you ask over the table.

The restaurant you had booked for dinner boasts of its month-long waitlists and seasonal menus. You poke at the raw fish that sits on your plate, Nanami holding a glass of amber liquid. He watches its colour swirl under the dim light.

“The pay is good. We’ll be comfortable.”

“I don’t care about money, Ken. I’d rather you do something less stressful and be happier.”

“Let me try it out for a year or so. That can’t hurt, right?”

He smiles, you smile. 

Your hand slips into his comfortably over the table, and your eyes meet in silent understanding. You squeeze his hand.

The company changes Nanami. Some things are obvious — the way he now parts and combs his hair back with wax, the pressed suits that line your shared wardrobe, the work phone that buzzes with notifications every minute of the day. Others are more… subtle. He comes home later and later each night, occasionally staying over in the office. His alcohol consumption increases. You spend the weekends alone. 

It’s gotten to the point where you’re lucky if you eat dinner with him once a week. You’re busy with your own work, too, but you assume that Nanami would be able to come home on at least the weekends. Your mind begins to drift.

Is there a colleague who wears a skirt too short, a manager who touches his shoulder a second too long? It’s been at least four years since you and Nanami had gotten together, and you still don’t know his stance on marriage or children yet. Does he love you, or does he love his job more? 

You fall into a pit of doubt and despair. Perhaps you should have been a lesser burden on Nanami. He spent so many hours taking care of you back then, wearing himself thin between missions, that the idea of him getting tired of being a caregiver to someone who didn’t remember him at all was… possible; reality, even?

There’s nothing original about you, either. Your handwriting is the same as a girl you’ll never remember from middle school, the way you text influenced by the students you work with. Maybe you laugh too loud. Or you’re too fat, too skinny, too quiet, too noisy, too blunt, too shy, too clumsy. So what made him love you? Or was he just in love with a previous version of you that you weren’t now?

It feels like you’re staring into a mirror when you try to remember who you used to be with childhood journals and photographs. The same face, the same body, memories that don’t make sense and a head that has become a blank canvas. A parent’s child, a teacher’s student. Unable to reach past the glass.

You don’t know who you are anymore with how you’ve changed to please Nanami — a person of personalities that switches in the blink of an eye. So why does he still keep you in his rented heart that’s full of other tenants, and under the contact name ‘Dear ♡’? You place the button in a drawer amongst a mess of spare keys, bits of tissue paper and promotional pamphlets. 

It’s tiring. Nanami’s head is in the clouds as you share a parfait, and you ask him, “Kento, do you really love me?”.

“What?” he asks incredulously. “Of course I do.”

The eyebags that are on his face have been there since two weeks ago. Nanami can’t remember when the last time was when he got a proper night of sleep, and currently, he’s thinking about the new client that-

“Kento,” you interrupt. “You’re exhausted.”

You point your spoon at him for extra emphasis, the tip of it having a dollop of whipped cream. 

“Pointing your utensils around is bad manners.”

“Never knew you cared about table manners.”

“Well, now I do.”

You lick the spoon clean and eye Nanami. He returns a tired stare before his gaze falls to the side and he lets out a sigh. He almost wishes that you would stop bothering him about this and let him go back home. There are so many emails he needs to send, and he can’t sit still without checking the stock market every hour or so. 

“Do you want to break up?”

The words come easier than expected.

“Huh?! What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you want to.”

“You can’t just assume things like-”

The girls sitting by the next table fall quiet. Nanami thinks that they’re eavesdropping on your conversation; you think so too. You glance quickly at them and they pretend nothing had ever happened, hiding their looks of surprise as they shove spoonfuls of dessert into their mouths.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

You sound irritated. Nanami pays with his card, grabbing his things as you step outside of the cafe first. 

“Slow down,” he mumbles and pockets his wallet. 

You whip around.

“You can’t just assume things like that, Kento.”

“Fine, I’m sorry.”

Staring at him, your eyes seem glazed over. Tired, maybe. Tearing up, maybe. Maybe, maybe. Many maybes. Nanami doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what’s been going on with you, actually. You seem distant, out of reach when you’re lying in the same bed as him. Is it the money; is he making enough to make you happy?

Nanami reaches out and tries to hold your hand (when was the last time he had done that?) when his phone buzzes. He retracts his hand and reaches for his back pocket, but you grab his wrist. He looks at you.

“What are you doing? Let go.”

Irritation laces his voice. 

“Don’t answer that.”

“Are you crazy? It’s from work. I have to.”

“Work this, work that! You spent the last year basically married to your office and the one time we get to go out together, you want to work?”

Your voice is sharp, slicing Nanami’s hazy conscience. He watches as it pools at his feet, a gust of fresh air tickling his skin. He relaxes his wrist and you pull your hand away. Passersby glance at you briefly before continuing their daily commute, not bothering to give you a second glance.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” Nanami replies. 

The both of you stand in the street, suddenly feeling as if you’ve drifted away from one other unknowingly. Like a boat in the ocean, Nanami rocks with the waves that splash gently on his hull. Everything is blue and vast around him. He can’t see the land. 

Nanami thinks about that girl at the bakery. The way she always cried out ‘Come back soon!’ every time he left as if he wouldn’t return a second time. And then he thinks about the clients he serves, all outfits and jewellery that easily cost half his salary. They shove money into his hands, expecting even more in return without a word of thanks. 

“Hey,” Nanami says. 

He reaches out across the waters and grasps your hand in his. You look up, eyes brimming with tears. He swipes at the corner of your eye with his thumb. Understanding washes over him and he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Nanami whispers sincerely.

That night, he calls Gojo when you’re safely tucked into bed. Nanami tries to ignore how the older sorcerer cackles at him and hangs up once the call is presumably over on his end. He slips under the covers as you turn over in your sleep, resting against his chest. Nanami kisses your brow. 

He gets his first night of good sleep in a long, long time. 

☆*: .｡.

Nanami falls back into the rhythm of sorcery. He trains for a good month until he gets his stamina and strength back, obtaining a new weapon from the school for his missions. Gojo seems oddly delighted to see him return, laughing when Nanami’s out of breath from a workout.

“Ken,” you say, wrinkling your nose when he steps out of your shared bedroom. “You’re going to work in that?” 

Nanami adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves, staring at you. 

“Is this not appropriate?”

You observe him from head to toe. The leopard print tie, blue shirt and tan suit — you resist the urge to tell him he’s so close to looking like a pimp. Out of all the lovely suits that Nanami has, he chooses to wear this one?

“It’s a bit bright, that’s all,” you laugh. 

“I thought I would go with something eccentric. You don’t get to wear this at the office,” he remarks, striding over to the kitchen to grab your packed lunches. 

You remain quiet and fiddle with a loose thread on your own suit jacket. 

“Something the matter?”

“Oh! Nothing at all. Let’s go.”

It’s more convenient now since the both of you work at the same place. Nanami drives to Jujutsu Tech every morning and picks you up in the evenings as well. He detests how Gojo makes fun of him for it, calling him a ‘lovely husband’. It makes your cheeks warm, and you duck your head before Nanami can ask you anything about it.

Peace reigns true for a few months. The morning routine is a nice change of pace compared to Nanami’s previous job. You’re able to spend more time together, even to the point of going grocery shopping or watching a movie with takeout on Friday nights.

Nanami relaxes only a little. Compared to office work, this is probably just as bad. First of all, he has to see Gojo almost every day and have him talk his ear off. Secondly, he returns to being the balance between life and death for civilians once more. It’s not a task he enjoys. However, he harbours that the thanks he receives and the lives he saves are a good enough exchange. 

Years come and go, as do students of Jujutsu Tech. Nanami sees more dead sorcerers and exorcises more curses. You quietly type away at a laptop, filing their deaths and completing any tasks you’re given from the higher-ups. It seems that life has slowed down once more and you return to a monotonous pace. 

You wonder if your relationship with Nanami will progress any further. It’s been close to nine years and yet… nothing has developed beyond living together or the odd weekend date. That’s not to say that you don’t love Nanami. You do, honestly. He treats you well and listens to your occasional nagging to put his stacks of books away, but you want something more. You crave the thought of getting married, to be lawfully his and maybe start a family. But, contrary to belief, Nanami isn’t opposed to it when you bring the topic up over dinner one night.

“Marriage?” 

His chopsticks pick off a portion of grilled salmon and he brings it to his mouth with some rice. He chews, swallowing.

“Yeah. I mean, we’ve been together for so long, you know? So it kind of seems natural for us to do so.”

Your gut twists nervously. The steam from your miso soup rises silently in the air, wisps of white smeared out at the edges. 

“Sure.”

“Huh?”

“Sure, let’s get married.” Nanami says.

You have to physically close your mouth and your eyes are widened in shock. Your heartbeat accelerates that much faster.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, were you serious when you asked me that question?”

Heat rises to your face. 

“As you said, we’ve been together and living under the same roof for quite some time. Marriage seems like a plausible idea.”

“Then let’s-!”

“But I have one condition.”

Momentarily, your heart wavers. Nanami finishes the last drop of miso soup in his bowl and balances his chopsticks on top of the porcelain. As usual, his plate and bowls are scraped clean. 

“I’ll only get married after I stop being a sorcerer.”

Your face twists in confusion as you try to understand where Nanami is coming from. You don’t get it — didn’t being a sorcerer mean that Nanami faced death everyday and that he should be taking advantage of what time he has left? But, of course, you don’t mean to curse him into an early grave like that. Except… Except that your face visibly falls and Nanami takes notice of it.

“I’d rather not have my life entangled with curses more than it should be. Once we both earn enough money and have a nice savings account, we can retire and go do whatever we want. Besides, I’ll invest. It’ll be more than enough.”

You remain silent and stare at your half-finished dinner. Nanami reaches over the table and takes your hand in his. 

“Can you give me some more time, please?”

You don’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

“Did you hear about the new first years?”

“Mm. The one who died, right?”

“Gojo wants me to mentor him for a while.”

Nanami’s hands are positioned on the steering perfectly. His palms guide the car carefully through the steep roads that climb up to Jujutsu Tech. You flip through a checklist of things you need to do for the day.

“Will you be heading out of school?”

“Probably. There’s a scene I need to check out.”

“Stay safe, alright?”

“Of course. You too, don’t forget to have your lunch again.”

Nanami pulls into the parking lot of the school. Leaning over the clutch, he presses a kiss to your hairline. You gently peck his jaw.

“See you tonight. I might not be able to pick you up, so get Nitta to drive you.”

“See you, Ken.”

Nanami watches as you open the car door and step out. You turn back, giving him a wave and smile through the window. He returns the gesture. Once you’re out of sight, Nanami pulls out his phone as he sits in the car. He thumbs through his emails and his Adam’s apple bobs as soon as he sees the confirmation sent to him. A loose sigh worms its way out of his chest. He pushes the door open and steps out. 

The rest of the day is spent teaching Itadori Yuuji about the sanctity of being young and simpleminded. Sorcery isn’t child’s play — especially when there are lives involved. He watches as Itadori’s face crumbles at the mention of the transfigured humans. He wants to comfort him, place a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it isn’t his fault.  

They have a quick debrief of the situation with Ijichi before parting ways. Nanami shoulders his burden once more, watching as the car pulls away in the direction of Yoshino’s home. 

As night falls, Nitta drives you home. She’s chatty, serious about her job and does it well. You smile when she gushes about how lovely Nanami must be at home, and, oh! Do tell him to lighten up at work. 

You thank her when she drops you off. As you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex, you make a routine stop by the mailboxes. Junk, bills and… a box? You flip it over to see who it’s addressed to; perhaps Nanami had ordered something online. However, your name is printed neatly across the label.

The first thing you do when you get home is to open the box. It’s small, probably not more than a hand’s breadth in length. Your pen knife slices through the tape cleanly and when you push aside the flaps, you spot two velvet boxes sitting in a mess of paper filler. Your fingers tremble when you pull one of them out and open it. 

A silver ring sits in the furrow of a cushion with Nanami’s name on the inside. Your heart skips a beat and you reach into the cardboard to pull out the second ring box. This one is a little larger, with your name engraved on the interior side of the band. It must be Nanami’s, then.

It’s already well past 6p.m. as you dial his number with your lower lip between your teeth. You pace around the house, bouncing on the balls of your feet. What were these meant to be? Promise rings? Engagement rings? You hadn’t dared to slip the one with Nanami’s name engraved onto your finger just yet.

“Hello?” 

Nanami’s breathing is laboured. Your heart falls and you stop in the middle of your living room, staring ahead at nothing.

“Ken? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Just… just a little hurt. It’s nothing serious.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve called Ijichi to pick me up, don’t-”

“So it is serious, then!” you cry out in horror. 

“No, no. I said I’m fine. Look, did you receive the rings yet?”

“I did, but that’s not the point now. Are you safe?”

“I-”

You hear Nanami’s phone clatter to the ground and the thump of his body on the floor. 

“Kento?” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply. 

☆*: .｡.

You’re seated on the floor of your shared home, an oversized pajama shirt stolen from Nanami’s closet swallowing you. Sunlight pours in through an open window at two in the afternoon and the quiet hum of vehicles outside can be vaguely heard.

Clip, clip, clip.

One hand holds a nail clipper, while the other cradles Nanami’s fingers gently. The blond watches you absentmindedly while you trim his nails. He had insisted he was perfectly capable of doing them on his own, but the glare you gave him made Nanami sink back into the sofa. 

He was hurt after a fight with Mahito — the wound on his side made him grimace whenever he stood up, and Nanami found himself relying on you more than he wished to. Thankfully, he had passed out from blood loss and pain but nothing too devastating had happened. That didn’t change how concerned you were about him, though. You try to forget how you had hailed a taxi just to rush back to Jujutsu Tech to see Nanami lying in the sickbay with a blood drenched shirt. 

Nanami thinks it’s childish. When was the last time someone had clipped his nails for him? Was it his mother? A warm breeze wrings itself through the window. You run the pad of your finger over the cut edge, feeling for any sharp portions. 

Nanami stares at the top of your head. Your fingers feel uncharacteristically soft against his own calloused ones — wielding a weapon in battle wore his palms down at the end of the day. He doesn’t particularly want to admit he likes it.

Nanami is a man of truth. He hates lying, and definitely doesn’t tolerate beating around the bush. But if he spoke as he thought, told you everything he felt about you as often as it came like the wind, how would you react? He clutches his heart in the aching hand of a budding teenager, the fears of facing a cruel world fresh in his mind. 

Being a sorcerer means facing death on a daily basis, especially with the increase in curses with modern times. It doesn’t help that with both of you on the field, it means double the chances. Sorcerers never die without regrets.

Nanami wishes he could love you more, let you explore each crevice of his heart without fear of leaving you; being left behind one day. He doesn’t want to curse you if he dies. He doesn’t want to become a burden to you any more than he should be. 

Clip, clip, clip.

“Is it too short?” 

You glance up briefly at Nanami and brush the hair out of your eyes. He stares down at his fingers and feels them over with his thumb. He shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine.”

You nod and move on to his next hand. You’re systematical about it — trimming off most of the grown parts in three portions, then a couple tinier clips to finish the job off. A nail file sits on the ground beside you, the tiles of the floor cool against your bare legs.

“Hey, Ken?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard that there’s a new bakery opposite that popular department store. I was thinking of going to take a look later. Do you want me to get anything for you?”

“Nothing too sweet would be nice.”

“Okay.”

The living room falls back into a comfortable silence.

Clip, clip, clip.

☆*: .｡.

It takes a few more weeks before Nanami is cleared by Ieri to return to regular sorcery work. He tries to rest in the downtime he has, he really does — but the itch to get up and finish Mahito off has him restless. 

At this, Gojo sends Nanami and you off to Hamamatsu on another curse investigation for a change of scenery. Gojo doesn’t want to admit it, but he had mumbled to you something about taking care of Nanami’s mental health. Maybe the beach would help? You told him he sounded like a doctor from the 20th century. You’re not one to refuse a free trip outside of Tokyo, though, so you and Nanami pack your luggage and troop off to Hamamatsu on the Shinkansen. 

“Thank you.”

Nanami’s fingers curl around the ice cream cone handed to him, the sun scorching his back. It’s too hot for this; for anything, really. He makes a mental note to give Gojo a good stare of disapproval once he returns to school. 

Why did the mission have to be on the warmest day of the year? With how the heatwave makes perspiration trickle down your back, though, the dangers of facing a possible special grade curse is the least of your worries right now.

“It’s so hot!” 

You eagerly lap at the soft serve, savouring the cold, sweet treat. Nanami wanted to take a photo of the ice cream, but- oh well, you’ve begun eating, and the horrendous heat would have probably melted it before he found a good angle, anyways. 

Protected by the shade of a shopping district, Nanami and you had agreed to find refuge for a few hours — the curse could wait till the sun began to set. Besides, it would be more likely to turn up after dark. 

“How does yours taste, Ken?” you ask and peer over at his cone.

He had gotten a cookies and cream flavoured one, despite how you egged him on to try out the local eel flavour. Nanami was not going to ruin his taste buds just like that, thank you very much.

“It’s alright,” he says, licking traces of ice cream off of his lips. “Could do with a little more cookie.”

“Wanna try mine?” 

You stick your cone into Nanami’s face. He’s greeted with your half-eaten soft serve, where your tongue has made a path of its own against the original swirl. He eyes you carefully and you offer the cone to him once more.

“That’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, Ken! We’ve kissed before, sharing saliva on ice cream is nothing compared to that.”

Heat rushes to his face, though Nanami assumes a composed facade. He blames it on the weather without hesitation. Not wanting you to tease him anymore, he leans forward and nips a tiny portion of your ice cream off of the tip. 

“Yummy, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.”

“Want to try mine too?” 

The words leave his lips on reflex. Nanami wonders when he’s begun letting you try his food — when he used to be so adamant that no one could even touch its container or look in its direction (thanks to Gojo’s greedy fingers). You nod excitedly and lick off of a portion. 

“It’s good!” 

What was the first time he had said it to you? Over oden in the winter; over those disgustingly sweet slurpees you insisted on from 7 11? All those small moments that had built up culminated in Nanami’s affection and understanding towards you. The way in which you offer him a bite of your food without expecting anything in return; is that what love is like? 

“You’ve got some ice cream on your face,” Nanami says.

You instinctively use your tongue and try to clean it off. “Did I get it?”

Nanami shakes his head. “It’s on this side,” he replies, pointing a spot on his own face.

You try again, to no avail. Nanami sighs.

“What would you do without me?” he asks monotonously, using the pad of his thumb to wipe it off.

You stand there, frozen for a second when he leans in. His promise ring is cold against your cheek.

“Kento?” you whisper. 

Under the light of the shining sun, he presses his lips to yours, shielding you from warm rays and the glances of passersby with his back. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as you taste cookies and cream, your eyes fluttering shut instinctively. 

Nanami isn’t a fan of public affection. God forbid Gojo see him kissing you, really. But as he leans back and watches your half-lidded eyes stare up at him, he asks himself if you’ve ever received his own sort of love in return. 

A relationship’s all about give and take; but has he given as much as he should have? Has Nanami loved you in a way that matters? Life is a fleeting concept to all sorcerers. Should he die and leave you behind, Nanami wonders if he would pass without any regrets. Did he do enough when he tugged the covers over your shoulders when you fell asleep on the sofa, was there more he could have done even after buying you that watch you had eyeballed for the past few months?

There’s that sort of incompetence that curls up in his chest on sleepless nights, even with you tucked into his side. It makes his head spin and his heart fall into a bottomless pit. With all the eyes of juniors and students that look up to him, Nanami can’t help but wonder if he’s truly as good as everyone thinks he is. Being a sorcerer holds little problem. But what about a lover, a husband?

He couldn’t save Haibara, so how dare he think about…

“Kento,” you swallow. “Ken?”

Nanami snaps out of his daze. “Huh?”

“I dropped my ice cream,” you whisper. 

He swivels his head and spots your cone face down on the sidewalk. His own cone drips down his hand, the melting liquid staining the sleeve of his suit. For once, Nanami’s mind runs blank. 

“Kento? Are you okay?” you ask gently.

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

“Mm?”

Nanami’s careful to avoid the pool of melting ice cream as he steps closer to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches as his cologne invade your senses.

“I love you. Let’s get married.”

[asthmark]

❝ only us ❞, n.jm

summary → it was obvious to anyone that you guys had practiced this various times. or maybe it was just natural chemistry? jaemin isn’t sure what’s worse.

request → “could you write about bestfriend jaemin getting jealous when he sees you kiss jeno for a play at school that you're in” (anon)

word count → 3k

a/n → this request made me so incredibly happy because all the knowledge i acquired my musical phase finally came in handy!! also i haven’t listened to dear evan hansen since i downloaded the illegal bootleg on my laptop like last year so i don’t remember much abt it :( i just kind of described it really vaguely lol anyway hope u enjoy ;)

jaemin dropped his backpack carelessly onto the floor of the crowded cafeteria. he set his plate down on the lunch table, not even glancing at you as he eagerly dug into his food.

“sorry i’m late,” he says to you, eyes concentrated on the orange citrus in his hand. his fingers skillfully begin peeling off the skin. “i had to stay a couple minutes after history class as punishment for eating during the lesson.”

you roll your eyes, an amused smile on your face. “disappointed but not surprised.”

at hearing this comment, he glares at you. “hey, i didn’t have breakfast today and my stomach was growling like, really loud! seriously, it sounded like a whale mating call or something.”

“and who’s fault is that?” you ask, tucking your hands beneath your chin.

he frowns as he pops an orange wedge in his mouth. “mine, i guess. but it’s only because coach told me i should eat less if i wanna play better. something about less body mass making it easier to move around the court.”

“well, i’m pretty sure he didn’t mean skipping out on entire meals, doofus,” you retort. “breakfast is the most important meal of the day, isn’t that what everyone says?”

“true.” suddenly, his eyes light up. “so, you’re gonna start bringing me breakfast in the morings?”

you raise an eyebrow. “i’m sorry, when did we decide on that?”

he flashes you one of his infamous na jaemin smiles. “just now.”

“yeah well, tell your coach you’ll be losing that weight because there’s no way i’m going to wake up at the crack of dawn just to get you a mcmuffin.”

“but it would make my mornings so much better,” he whines. “having basketball practice so early sucks but with my cute little cheerleader there it would be totally worth it... the mcdonald’s is a bonus.”

you can’t help but laugh. “sorry nana, but i prefer sleeping in over watching a bunch of sweaty guys toss a ball around at 6 a.m.”

“fine... buy me a coffee after school and i’ll let you slide.”

“maybe tomorrow, i’ve got theatre today.”

“well, after that then,” he suggests.

you shake your head. “but then you’d have to wait and we’re doing a full rehearsal today.”

he shrugs. “i can wait, i don’t have practice.”

“yeah but i know how you are, na jaemin. you have the attention span of a goldfish.”

“not when it comes to you. you always have my attention.”

you’re about to laugh at what you assumed had been a purposefully cliché one-liner on his behalf but there’s no sign that he was joking. his devilish smirk and teasing eyes that usually appeared when he flirted with the girls on campus were nowhere to be found. instead you’re met with a straight face and his glimmering eyes that seem almost expectant, concentrated on you only. it takes you by surprise. was he being serious or something? the thought alone has your heart beat steadily increasing.

“okay fine, fine. anything for you to stop staring at me like that.”

he tilts his head to the side, resembling a lost puppy. “staring at you like what?”

“like—“ you pause, debating on whether or not you should say it. “like you’re in love with me or something.”

he only chuckles. “you have no idea.”

you almost choke on your sandwich. before you have a chance to ask him what in the world he meant by that, one of his teammates from the basketball team appears behind him, stealing his attention away.

“hey jaem,” donghyuck greets as he ruffles the younger boy’s hair. “coach just called a team meeting.”

“right now?” jaemin asks, displeased.

the brunette nods, folding his arms over his chest.

jaemin suppresses a groan as he stands and grabs his belongings. “sorry y/n. i’ll see you later for your rehearsals, okay?”

you nod. “see you later, nana.”

“bye jaemin’s girlfriend!” donghyuck exclaims receiving a punch in the arm from your ‘boyfriend’ although he doesn’t deny.

“i’m excited,” comments jaemin later that day. he has a bright grin on his face as you make your way through the hallway to the multipurpose room where you usually went for theatre club .

“oh really? i didn’t know you liked musicals.”

“well not really. but i like you.”

for the second time in one day, jaemin catches you off guard. you kick yourself for letting his shamelessness get to you. after all, wasn’t he like that with every girl? he had always been a charmer, you knew that before you had even met him.

na jaemin—point guard and certified flirt.

the only reason you had grown closer was due to him being in critical need of academic help and your teacher seeing you as a fit tutor. at first everyone found it amusing; the classic popular guy and quiet girl cliche. nobody had expected that you two would become practically glued by the hip. especially not you. maybe that was why you were so opposed to jaemin flirting with you. you were best friends but you knew how he was: not interested but never one to turn down any kind of attention. there was just no way that among so many girls you would be an exception.

“well, i hope you can like me for two hours because that’s probably how long this is gonna take,” you say, trying to move the conversation forward.

“i already told you, i have nowhere to be!” he exclaims. “besides, when would i ever turn down an opportunity to stare at you for a couple hours?”

you can’t help but roll you eyes, playfully. “please refrain from using any of your cheesy pick up lines on me while we’re there.”

“why?” he whines. “are you embarrassed of me?” when you turn to look at him he’s making those ridiculous puppy eyes that he knows you find hilarious.

you snort at seeing the familiar face. “when you do that, definitely.”

“alright fine. i’ll try to be on my best behavior in front of your little theatre friends.”

“thank you.” despite not believing a word he says, you still push open the door leading to the multipurpose room.

before you even get one foot in the door, your cast mate is already in your face.  

“y/n, finally!” he says, looking beyond relieved at your presence. “i thought you’d never come! c’mon, you gotta change into your costume so we can start.”

“it’s not even opening night, jeno, calm down!” you say, laughing. “and i’m only a couple minutes late, it’s fine.”

he frowns. “you know how anxious i get. everything needs to be perfect.”

“yeah i know, sorry renjun.”

jeno makes a face, showcasing his disgust with your comment that compared him to your strict director. “shut up, you’re gonna summon him.”

“summon who?”

speak of the devil.

you shake your head at renjun who has appeared besides jeno. “not important.”

he smiles sarcastically, brushing his blonde bangs out of his face. “oh good. so can we move on to the actually important things now? like how you’re 6 minutes late?”

you sigh. “i had to wait outside jaemin’s class that’s on the other side of campus, sorry.”

but renjun doesn’t seem to care about your apology. instead, his attention has shifted to jaemin who stands behind you, hands stuffed into his pockets and eyes curiously observing the interactions between you and your friends.

“hello there.” your director moves past you, extending his hand towards your best friend which he takes awkwardly. “pleasure to meet you. you’re on the basketball team, right? i heard you scored the winning touchdown at the last game. congrats!”

“um, it’s just called a point in basketball but... thank you.”

renjun ignores jaemin’s correction. “is it your first time visiting the theater club?”

the brunette nods.

“oh, that’s wonderful! do you plan on coming to see our play on the 15th of this month?”

jaemin scratches the back of his head. “um... to be honest, i didn’t even know you guys had one coming up.”

renjun laughs, harder than usual. “that’s quite alright. it’s called ‘dear evan hansen’. it’s about the trials of high school life for a depressed teen who’s caught in a huge lie.” his hands fly around wildly, using them for emphasis as he dramatically explains the plot to jaemin. “you should come support us!”

“well, i would love t—“

“great! entry is $10.00, cash only. and definitely invite the rest of the basketball team!” with that, renjun rushes off, shouting something about how that was ‘exactly how to sell tickets for the play’ to the rest of the staff.

jaemin gives you a confused stare. “what just happened?”

you chuckle and give him a pat on the back. “you just experienced firsthand what we call here at the theater club the huang renjun effect. never fails to suck somebody into buying tickets for our shows.”

“well, now i kinda wanna buy one.” he turns to you, his eyes widening so big it’s comical. “wow, he’s good.”

“he’s more of a salesman than a director, that’s what you always say, right?” you turn to jeno who nods at the statement. “oh, this is jeno, by the way. he’s one of the few people around here who is not crazy.”

jeno waves at jaemin who smiles weakly at him, too busy observing his physique to say anything. his costume consisted of a blue polo shirt that made his biceps and veiny arms much more prominent. the shirt was pretty tight as well, making his toned chest and torso visible to just about anyone. the khakis he wore were fitted and his thick thighs were impossible to ignore. jaemin can’t help but wonder what a guy with his body was doing in a theatre club when he could be such a useful player on the court.

he looks up at his face, his cheeks curved into a smile that reached his squinted eyes. he would admit, he was a good looking dude. he then glances at you and realizes—you spent almost everyday with jeno. he feels guilty for it but he can’t stop himself from feeling slightly threatened by your cast mate.  

jeno clears his throat, trying to ignore the awkward silence that has settled upon the three of you. “um, it was nice meeting you.” he shifts his attention to you. “i’m gonna finish getting ready.”

once he has left, you let out a giggle that you had been holding in during the entire exchange. “what’s the matter? you got all choked up just now. look, i know jeno’s hot but you gotta keep your cool just like the rest of us, okay?”  

he frowns as he folds his arms over his chest, your last comment only fueling his feelings. “quit teasing me.”

“aw c’mon, you know i gotta give you a hard time,” you say, knocking his shoulder with yours. “it’s my duty as your best friend.”

before he can even respond, renjun’s voice is heard, being amplified by the megaphone in his hand. “rehearsals will start in 15 minutes instead of 5 because y/n wants to chit-chat with her friend instead of going to hair and makeup!”

you scowl at having been called out. “alright, i’ve gotta go get ready. please enjoy the show, though, okay?”

jaemin nods, smiling at seeing the genuine glint in your eyes. “of course.”

you were reaching the half point of the musical and jaemin had already cried twice.

with the looks he was receiving from the stage crew and even some of the cast members up on stage, he could tell they hadn’t expected him to be as emotional as he was but he couldn’t help it. the play was incredibly sad and he found himself not even knowing who to pity.  

there was jeno’s character, evan hansen, who was stuck in a hole he had dug himself into but there was still a bit of him that was innocent and so helpless.

then there was connor murphy played by a kid named park jisung, who had only been around for a couple of scenes since his character was so tormented he had taken his life at the beginning of the play.  

there were many other supporting roles, such as family members or friends and they all seemed to have their own issues but the character that truly got to him was yours.  

you were playing zoe murphy, connor’s sister who was grappling with the death of her brother the entire musical, not sure whether to mourn him or remember him for the abusive person he was. in fact, your performance had tugged at jaemin’s heart strings so intensely that your solo song was the reason he had cried the first time around.

your acting skills had impressed him and your vocals left him stunned. all the times you and him had carpooled and sung the songs on the radio at the top of your lungs, he had never noticed your heavenly pipes. now that he had, he could feel himself becoming even more into you, if that was possible.

he sat on the edge of his seat, eyes focused intently on you and jeno as the 10th song began. as soon as the sound of the soft piano begins, jaemin prepares himself to shed tears once more but to his surprise, it seemed to be taking a more romantic turn.  

he could only watch as you and jeno sang about being together and not letting go of each other... basically saying everything he wanted to tell you. he knew it was all a part of the act but seeing a guy as perfect as jeno pour his feelings out to you as you watched him with heart eyes and sang about how mutual it was proved to be incredibly tough. it made him feel like all his shameless flirts and stares that were too long to be just friendly were useless. why couldn’t making you his be as easy as jeno was making it seem?

before he can beat himself up for it anymore you and jeno lock lips. it isn’t just a quick peck, either. your hand tangles itself into his gelled back hair and his hand ends up on your waist as your lips move against each other, rhythmically. it was obvious to anyone that you guys had practiced this various times. or maybe it was just natural chemistry? jaemin isn’t sure what’s worse. all he knows is that he can’t take another second of watching you two engage in your passionate kiss when all he wishes is that he were in jeno’s shoes.

so, without a second thought he gets up and rushes out the door. he doesn’t look back at you because he doesn’t want to see the confusion and disappointment that will surely be on your face. he doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of his childish actions. he doesn’t stop running until he reaches the gym and takes a seat in the bleachers. he doubles over, head in his hands as he pants heavily in an attempt to catch his breath.

shortly after, much to his surprise, the door swings open and there you stand.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, sitting up straight.

“me? what about you, jaemin?” you approach him, slowly. “you just ran out of the room, for god’s sake. everyone’s worried, i’m worried.”

he feels another wave of guilt wash over him for interrupting your rehearsal and going against the one thing he said he was going to do: behave. “please go back. i’m fine, y/n. just needed a breather.”

“oh no,” you say walking up the stairs to the top row of bleachers where your best friend sits. “don’t ‘i’m fine, y/n’ me. you are most definitely not fine.” once you reach him you take a seat to his left, making sure to leave a generous space between you and him. “what happened back there? i swear, if renjun said anything to you i’ll personally make sure he never looks in your direction again.”

“no, it’s not that.” he pauses. “you and jeno were just—“ he trails off, his throat going dry.

you carefully place a hand on his arm, letting him know you would wait for anything he had to say.

“you were just really convincing.”

“well, isnt that a good thing?”

“it was... too much for me to see,” he confesses.

“so, what you’re saying is it’s too unrealistic? do we need to tone it down a bit?”

he nearly groans in frustration. “it’s not that! i wanted to be him, y/n! i want to feel your lips and hear about how much you want me!”

you retract your hand from his arm. “are you serious right now?”

he shoots you a harsh look and you notice how his eyes are glossed over, confirming just how serious he was. he gets up to leave, accepting his rejection before you grab his arm again and yank him down. he lands back on the bench and stares at you, visibly puzzled.

“if you would have waited a second longer you would know how badly i want those things too, you goldfish.”

the tears in his eyes fall but he still shoots you a toothy grin, showing he was anything but unhappy. you bring your hand up to his face, your thumb softly rubbing away the wet stains on his cheek. he unconsciously leans into your touch, never once breaking eye contact. once he’s had enough of delicate touches, he pulls you into his chest and you breathe in his scent—peppermint and coffee.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?”

“for basically trading spit with jeno right in front of you.”

“it’s alright, baby... let me be the only person you practice that kiss scene with and i’ll let you slide.”

“deal.”

[margarethelstone-2]

if I loved you less (i might talk about it more)

requested by one and only @nerdypanda3126. thanks so much!

Read on AO3!

"Taichi... You still like me, don't you?"

The young man in question raised his eyes from the book he'd been trying to read for the past quarter, and fixed them on Chihaya, confused. It wasn't just the question that surprised him, even though its content sure would have been enough to puzzle a better prepared soul.

The fact that Chihaya had barely spoken at all for most of their time together today was the main reason why he felt startled by her words now.

She really had been quiet for most of the day, even though they were spending it at his place, determined, as she herself had claimed, not to get in the way of his studies. Taichi had tried to make her realise that it wasn't what he wanted at all, that the very reason he'd invited her over was to get a break from all the reading and just relax a little. He'd explained over and over again that he needed her to be a distraction; tried – unsuccessfully – to get it into her head that she was actually doing him a favour. He knew how much of a workaholic he could be and so he specifically planned the visit as a means to enforce the necessary break he might not have taken otherwise.

He had told her all of that. And yet, she'd remained quiet.

All the way until now, that is.

And just what on earth was she going on about?

"What's with that question? You know the answer to that," he replied casually, almost dismissively, before going back to the textbook in his hand. He really had no idea what had gotten into her all of the sudden, but then again, he didn't care to delve on the subject. He knew she'd tell him anyway.

"I was just wondering," she answered, a trace of hurt ringing in her voice; Taichi needed to hold back the smile that sprang on his lips at the sight of her pout. "Is it so bad if I do?"

Taichi hummed in thought.

"Is that why you've been so quiet all day?" he asked right after. "You've been just busy considering my possible affection for you?"

"Stop with the mockery. I'm thinking of it seriously."

"Oh? And what conclusions did you come to?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I'd come to any."

He had no choice but to close the book and put it away after a statement he'd just heard. Not that he minded. Throwing it on the floor rather carelessly, he sat up straight in his corner of the couch and, resting his chin on his palm, he fixed his gaze on the girl seated by his desk on the other side of the room.

She really was being impossible today.

Well, he supposed that wasn't anything new. He'd known Chihaya long and well enough to not be fazed by the swings in her mood or the inane schemes she so often came up with. He had learnt to expect the unexpected, every day, every hour of his otherwise boring life, because that was obviously the only way to keep up with her. The one thing he had to keep doing if he still wanted to be a part of her life.

Because that was how Ayase Chihaya was.

Chihaya. His best friend. His fiercest karuta rival. The girl he'd been in love with since fourth grade of primary school and the girl who'd rejected him straightforwardly at the very beginning of their third year in Mizusawa High. The girl whom he'd thought he could never win over, on whom he'd given up again and again, fooling himself he could move on and blight the love he'd had for her since he'd been a ten year old squirt.

He sighed and shook his head, remembering her question from a moment before.

She knew damn well he was still head over heels for her.

She was his girlfriend, for sanity's sake.

"I can't believe you actually have asked, you know," he picked up with the same fake weariness he'd shown before, if only to cover his growing amusement. Seeing her very real anxiety made him assume a more solemn expression, as he asked, "Seriously, what brought this on? Are you mad about something?"

"I'm not mad," she disagreed instantly, and with good emphasis.

"Are you unhappy then? Did I do something to make you feel like that?"

Again, she denied. Now she just looked sad. "That's not it."

Wrong. She was flustered.

"Then what is it?" Taichi asked, as gently and warmly as he could. Not for the first time, he felt grateful for all the hard training his patience had received. It was obvious that Chihaya needed that from him now. "It's not like I could get over you like this, you of all people should be aware of that. You're the most important person in my life. The best companion I could think of. You know I get lonely and grumpy when I can't see you, and you know I still get absurdly jealous, even though I hate being so. And so I can't help but think there's something else I'm not doing right."

Taichi stopped there, waiting for her to, if not answer his question, then to contradict him in one way or another, at least. After all, he really was at a loss.

He thought he'd been doing a fairly good job as a boyfriend, when all was said and done. He'd already shared Chihaya's most important interest and it wasn't difficult to at least understand the new ones she'd found. He made sure to be there for her when she needed him, and tried his best to give her space when she needed that more. True, he'd had some trouble coming for help on his part, but even that was a thing of a past rather than present – certainly not something that could shock Chihaya into thinking like this.

He would think that the all-day-long date he'd come up with and seen through in celebration of their first anniversary as a couple last week was a good show of how much he still cared.

He wasn't perfect. Neither was she. But never in his life would he have thought that he'd failed to get his feelings across.

"Chihaya," he prompted once more, his voice audibly quieter. "Please tell me what it is. I can't fix it if I don't know what's broken."

She looked up from the floor she'd been glaring at for a while and met his gaze, a shadow of unease still clouding her big brown eyes. She opened her mouth to answer; she closed it instantly and looked away again, abashed. There was a hint of pink on her cheeks, and it only grew darker as the time passed, though whether it was because of embarrassment or something more alarming, Taichi couldn't tell yet.

"Chihaya–"

"It's because you never say it."

He supposed his eyes opened wider than ever, what's with the utter astonishment he felt growing inside him immediately. For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare, the craziness of the situation overwhelming enough to successfully prevent him from forming a sensible thought, and much less coming up with any kind of solution. One look at Chihaya was enough to sober him up, however.

She was distressed. She was insecure.

No matter how stupid he thought the reason to be, he could hardly allow the situation to last.

With a groan that was bound to startle her, he bent over and buried his face in his hands.

Only one thing he could do now.

"Come here," he said, his face still hidden behind one hand as he tore the other one away and beckoned her towards him. "No excuses. You'll talk later. Now just come here, please."

She did, albeit tentatively, as if afraid of the reaction he might show her. With his patience starting to run thin at last, Taichi didn't wait for her to cover the whole distance, instead reaching out and grabbing her by the wrist, only to pull her down on the couch right next to him.

And then he pulled her even closer, locking her in a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm gonna do something to you," he mumbled into her hair, his voice a mixture of laughter and complaint. "You cruel, cruel, woman. Have you no heart? Here I am, mind reeling as I try to figure out what the hell I did wrong again and you say it's because I don't say I like you enough. As if you didn't already know you've got a firmer hold of my heart than I ever did. Tell me, am I really this bad at showing you that I care that you doubt it?"

It was Chihaya's turn to growl at him, though it surely – and fortunately – didn't stop her from burying her face even deeper into his chest and digging her fingers into the shirt on his back. Again, Taichi laughed at the display, but didn't loosen his grip one bit.

That silly, unbelievable, most beloved girl.

"This and that are different things," she muttered finally in response against his buttons, her stubborn indignation probably being the only reason why he could discern the words at all. "There are different kinds of love languages. We even talked about it, you know."

"Yes. And as far as I remember, we've already established that neither of us cared for this one. So your argument doesn't work."

Well, this was a lie, or at least, it wasn’t fully true. After all, he could never get tired of hearing her say those words, to him and him only. But he didn't need it that much, not when he already knew of so many other ways in which Chihaya expressed her love towards him. He'd always assumed it was the same for her, too.

Funnily enough, he still didn't think he was mistaken.

"I've had feelings for you for the past fourteen years, you dummy, I wouldn't change my mind just because you decided to return them," he threw in only half-jokingly, as if to make sure he got his point across before moving onto the next part. "So? Care to tell me what's the source of it all?"

He felt her tense against him for a split second, only to relax in the next moment with a long, weary sigh. He waited for her to make herself comfortable in his arms, shifting ever so slightly to make it easier for them both. And then he heard her speak.

"I met up with Kana-chan the other day," she admitted weakly. "Her and Desktomu. And I guess... They're always so sweet with one another, now more than ever. I suppose... It made me feel a little jealous. But most of all, it just made me think."

"And you decided that I'd fallen out of love with you, because I don't talk like Komano does?"

"I didn't decide anything, I told you already. I just wondered if maybe I was doing something wrong to deserve that treatment. Sorry for being so terribly scared of losing you again because of my own foolishness."

Words caught in his throat as Taichi tried to protest against this new development. That last addition Chihaya had made – and more importantly, the wounded, truly uncertain voice with which she'd spoken – would have been enough to melt his heart even if he had actually been angry with her. Right now, he had to hold back from grabbing her by the chin and kissing her senseless until all the idiotic ideas evaporated from her overworked mind.

The things she did to him without as much as trying.

You evil little imp.

"They're newly-weds. You can't use them for reference," he managed to stutter out at least, conveniently ignoring the hoarseness of his own voice and the emotion that hovered behind it. "Not to mention, those two are the opposite of us when it comes to talking about feelings openly. There's a reason they got together six years before we did. Just because something works for them doesn't mean it's the best course for us to take as well."

He smiled again and planted a kiss at the top of her hair, before adding, "I still can't believe you really doubted me, though."

She huffed and pulled away, although she still didn't move from her place on the couch. They were still close; close enough for Taichi to see the light reflecting in her eyes and the blush that hadn't left her cheeks, and to reach out and comb her tangled hair with his fingers. Another gesture so full of love, even though it was but a fraction of all that she made him feel.

"Well, since I never understood what had made you fall in love with me in the first place, it's only natural that I'd have this kind of doubts."

He chuckled and she smiled on her part, her obstinacy giving it to the desire to just be with him. It was another thing Taichi was able to read in her eyes – and, knowing the feeling well enough from his own experience, he had no trouble deciphering it.

Delayed, the first part of her sentence entered his brain.

What made me fall for you, I wonder?

He didn't know. It had been so long since he’d realised his feelings after all, and longer still since those feelings had been born. Even all those years earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to point out the reasons clearly, never mind finding the one spark that had started it – trying to do so now seemed downright impossible.

There were so many reasons, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never considered herself a possible love interest for anyone, first when she was too engrossed in karuta and later, when she thought she didn't deserve to be one. Maybe it was her hot-headedness and her drive, and how different she'd always been from him, and yet never failed to tell him how much she'd admired and envied those qualities of his that she lacked.

Maybe it was the fact that she'd always been with him, so close and so dear and yet so impossible to grasp.

Maybe it was because she'd loved him long before either of them dared believe that was the case.

Maybe...

"Maybe," he said out loud, though in fact not loud at all, his lips moving against her forehead as he leaned in to put a kiss there, too. "Maybe, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

Edging away, Taichi saw tears gathering in her eyes. He wiped them away with his thumb, his hand cupping the side of her jaw fittingly.

And then he kissed her properly.

Just like he had wanted to ever since he'd first seen her that day.

[dumb-dotcom]

night sky | rewrite

pairing: Sam Holland x reader Harry Holland x reader

Summary: tonight is the night where you tell your friend how you've felt all this time.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: I wrote the first draft of this years ago, the original version is shorter and has less emphasis on Harry's feeling for the reader, but I like this version much better. Still if you guys want I can post the original.

“When do you think you’ll tell him” Harrison and you sat on the front yard of Tom’s parents, the chill night of September night was young and the noise from the small gathering hosted by his parents seemed to agree, the whole family and closest friends were in town so it was the perfect occasion to a get together

“I don’t know mate... maybe today? I’m not sure“ A heavy breath left your lips as your shoulders dropped, maybe telling him wasn’t the brightest thing to do, but you trusted him, he had your back almost as a big brother would.

It was no surprise after practically being raised together thanks to your moms being friends and so you grew being really close to each other. But people grow and change, the years flew by and Harrison started hanging out with Tom which led to you finding out that the twins you’re your classmates. School could seem hard but it became so much easier with friends there for you and as Harrison became best mates with Tom so did you with Sam and Harry, distancing myself from Harrison.

“Are you telling Tom? I think he should know” you felt him staring which didn’t calm your nerves about the uncertainty of what was to come; your fingers ran my through your hair to keep it away from your face.

“No... I don’t- I don’t know Harrison!!” you laid on the grass closing your eyes, trying to avoid thinking about him, but no matter how hard the thought of him just came back, your nose was cold and so were your hands but you can bet he would still hold them without caring one bit.

The first time that you notice your feelings towards him was one day after school, no matter how much time it had been you still remember it clearly, Every day you would take a ride from them back to your home, even if your house was pass his, they still took the time so you didn’t have to go all the way there by yourself, but today Harry wanted to take some pictures before your daily routine continued so you and Sam decided to buy ice-cream while waiting for him, after a while of walking from the ice-cream place and eating a small rock made you trip, you’ve never felt more embarrassed as you wiped out the ice-cream from your face while Sam laughed, you were fuming at the universe for making you seem like a clown in front of your best friend so you jokingly pushed him

“Auch Y/N!” he said still laughing faking being actually hurt “Here, we can share mine” he handed you his ice-cream while holding your gaze, he cleaned a bit of ice-cream from your cheek “You missed a spot”

You weren’t sure if it was his charming smile or the way he said your name, but you knew you were head over heels for him

“Y/N!” Harry yelled from the front door, you turned to see him “Sam is looking for you, I think he’s in the music room”

Your heart skipped a beat to the mention of his name and the nerves rushed back, you sat again and felt Harrison’s hand on my back as he did when trying ease the bad thoughts

“Now or never” he said and he helped you get on your feet.

Truth is, even though you’ve known Harrison for all your life, you grew fond of the twins and the friendship became stronger a lot quicker, being almost bound to the hip. You all hung out whenever you could to the point of you staying over multiple times a week in their place when summer break came around, or travelling together on New Year.

You went up to Harry to say thank you and went in looking for Sam, the chattering from the families getting to catch up got louder as you entered the living room followed by Him and Harrison who went searching for Tom. You walked to the music room, you felt the cold sweat rushing through your back and tried to convince yourself that everything was going to be alright, hell you didn’t even know if you would actually tell him! But you couldn’t avoid thinking on all the stuff that could go wrong. You took a deep breath before walking into the empty room, to your surprise he wasn’t there, but the calm was short.

He entered the room with a glass of what seemed as red wine and smiled when he saw you there, you couldn’t help yourself but to smile as a fool and he knew it, he knew you thought he had a pretty smile but he didn’t know to what extent that was

“Y/N! truth or dare” you were there, at a classmates party that the twins invited you to, Harry was the one so insistent that you had to go, day and night trying to convince you that it would be fun, going to the extent of talking with mom so you would attend, they knew you weren’t a big fan of partying but honestly you wouldn’t miss out an opportunity to spend some time with them.

After hours of hanging out you ended up playing truth or Dare with a bunch of teenagers

“Truth” after seeing what they were daring each other that was the least thing you would want to choose, leaving you with the scary truth as your final option.

“What’s your... favourite thing about everyone playing?” that was an odd question coming from the most sober person around, if you recall correctly you knew this girl, she was nice and seemed to be having even less fun that you were.

“Well, you are really good at reading in front of the class” you smiled and proceeded to compliment complete strangers “... that’s a really cool shirt” after saying that to the last person that you didn’t know you stopped for a second, glancing at Sam and Harry, they were the last people that you had to compliment, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were slightly tipsy, you wouldn’t be able to even look at their faces “Harry I love your freckles and your hair is gorgeous.. And Sam, I love your smile”

He instinctually smiled, he made some space besides him for you to sit down on and so you did.

“I found you” he closed the door and left the glass on the nearest table, he hugged you, your heart felt like it was about to melt and you were sure your cheeks were bright red, he left you go “Do you remember when we watched the greatest showman for the first time?”

“How could I forget? Tom wouldn’t shut up about Zendaya and Harry almost choked on popcorn” you laughed just as the thought of Harrison trying to help Harry while the rest of us where laughing our asses off

“And you wouldn’t stop singing certain song for the rest of the month” He chuckled

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that” you shrugged and tried to avoid his gaze, you were nervous because when he saw him again, you knew today was the day “Sam I-“

“So I had to show you something” he rushed to the piano and he left a place for you to sit as he always did, so you followed him.

He started playing and the room was flood with the melody, a sense of nostalgia, longing for the years where he hadn’t to travel as much as he did and you could all hang out together, you saw his fingers run across the piano and you were certain everything was going to be alright. Your head rested on his shoulder and you closed your eyes starting to sing under your breath.

I'm trying to hold my breath

Let it stay this way

can’t let this moment end

You could hear your heart pounding against your chest, Why are you so nervous for? It’s not like your actually going to do it, are you?

You set off a dream with me

Getting louder now

Can you hear it echoing?

If it weren’t for the people from the other room and the sound of him playing he would be able to hear your heart almost bursting through your chest, and for a split second you think of all the good things that would happen if you tell him.

Take my hand

Will you share this with me?

'Cause darling without you

But it didn’t last long as you started to get nervous again, you could feel your hands sweating and really didn’t know where to put them, finally decided to play with the hem of your shirt.

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

all the stars we steal from the night sky

will never be enough

You opened your eyes and took a deep breath.

Never be enough

“I like you”

He missed a key and stopped playing all together.

You looked at him, searching for that sweet smile that would make all the fear and doubt disappear, but what you found instead helped me realize the huge mistake you just made, he was pale as a ghost and his eyes where avoiding meeting yours. Your bottom lip was shaking as you tried to find a way to get out of this situation; maybe say that it was a joke? No, both of you knew each other too well for that and he knows you wouldn’t lie about something like this.

“I- I’m sorry” he said as he stood up, even if you wanted to run from this he seemed much eager to get away and avoid this conversation.

You impulsively reached out for his hand, trying to stop him in his steps. He could feel your shaky hand, you knew it; he looked at it and then looked back at you, the sweet night that you expected seemed to turn bittersweet as the time went on.

“Sam, what are you sorry for” your voice was almost a whisper and it took all of you not to break in front of him.

“I met someone… I was learning that song for her”

And with that your heart broke completely, the tears started to fall down your face and before you knew it you were out of that room searching for your mom, after some minutes of searching you realized that she already left without you and started to look for your second best option, Harrison.

You turned around crashing into someone, after cleaning your face trying to hold back the tears, you gave him a quick apology and tried to move on but his hand on yours kept you from moving and there is when you saw his face.

“Harry, Can you take me with Haz?” that’s what you intended to say but the pressure in your chest was not helping. His arms wrapped around you tightly as you continued sobbing after he took you to the backyard where no one would see the mess that you were at the moment, his left hand played with your hair knowing it would calm you down.

“What happened love?” he gently rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand, your eyes met; those eyes that looked so similar to the eyes of the person who broke your heart, they seemed hesitant, maybe you were too focused on the bad things or maybe the tears were blocking your sight, but if you took a moment to look at him you would’ve noticed how your y/e/c eyes captivated him

If he had to pick what he loved about you he wouldn’t know what to choose, he loved your smile, the way you spoke and knew about so many topics, even if he didn’t understand all of them, he loved how much you motivated him and asked him to show you the photos he took whenever him as his family travelled, but one of the things that he loved the most about you were your eyes, those full of happiness and excitement, the way they would almost close whenever you smiled. But he hated to see you like this, sad and scared; the only thing he wanted to do was help you make everything better but didn’t know how.

“I don’t want to talk about it” you bit your lip trying to push back that thing in your head that made the memory of what just happened, his scared eyes, the <<I met some else>>, the way he preferred to run away than look at you come back again and again. “Where’s Haz? I want to leave”

“He left early with Tom” he looked around and looked back at you “But if I can take you home”

After everything that went down tonight, all you wanted was to get to your flat, take a shower and rest; but the coldness of your bed was the only thing waiting for you back there, and going to your parent’s house as you originally planned meant having to explain to your mum why your eyes are all red and puffy, maybe staying was the only thing left to do or maybe..

“Yes please”

In the ride back your place he listened patiently to what went down and every time you seemed about to start crying again he placed his hand on yours rubbing it, letting you know he was there for you; he tried not to think about Elysia and how he knew about her and his brother. Maybe he would’ve warned you having he known your feelings for Sam, even if it meant seeing your heart breaking apart first hand. You tested your mum letting her know the change of plans and reassuring her that everything was okay.

When you arrived at your flat, harry gave you a one last hug before going back to the party.

“Wait” you said hugging him tighter when you felt him trying to pull away “could you please stay?”

He showed you a peaceful smile, one that you knew too well and one that seemed like home. He brushed your hair away from your face and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Of course darling”

You two stepped inside and while you took a shower he made himself comfortable on the couch, when you saw him you couldn’t help but smile for a bit; you felt really tired after crying and he seemed just as tired as you were,

“Harry, come get in bed you twat” you sighed and rubbed your eyes “I don’t want to be alone tonight”

[karimac]

...in the details, Part 2

A/N: Warning for this series: 18+ audience (minors DNI), some cinematic level violence, some fluff and angst. Doubt that smut will be involved, but it may be implied. I’ll make sure that is noted clearly if it pops up.

All relationships, at this point anyway, are platonic.

Please do not repost or translate my work. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

A bit about the OC Kari

Part 1

All mistakes are my own.

Word count: 2,249

Before you ventured into Westview, a flight of birds overhead reminded you of Redwing and Sam. Poor Sam. That sixth sense you had told you that fight at the compound was going to lead you all into very weird places. And the first one left you very squarely not in the room once again.

This time it was Steve and Bucky being thick as thieves, and you and Sam were…making a sandwich run? Couldn’t exactly get GrubHub to make a delivery to an attack site, could you? Bruce did not want some driver with a cellphone putting video up on Snapchat. “How would that look?” he bemoaned as he worked on the time travel platform. “We’d be getting tourists left and right. I don’t need that.” So off you and Sam went.

“You know, you could just, you know,” Sam started to say as he waved his hands like he thought a wizard would do, “and just poof up a plate of stuff. Right? With extra food for Banner, of course. He inhales tacos like nobody’s business. Just ask Tic Tac.”

“Sam, what have I told all of you before? Magic is the transfer of energy and matter. No suitable food stuff means no sandwiches. I can’t just think about the deli counter at Wegman’s and make a sandwich and a side of coleslaw appear in my hand. So, we’ll order on the app and pick it up. Just like everyone else. Before I hit the button, any changes to your order?”

“No, it’s fine. But don’t tell me you’ve never done shit like that when you’ve had your back against it,” Falcon huffed as you went to the rental car you’d gotten earlier in the day. That, thank Heaven, was easy to get at the local but extremely small airport.

“I’ve killed small rodents and eaten them, and I don’t mean just rabbits. Snakes, too. And, well, birds of prey, like falcons,” you groaned as you started to get into the car, but you stopped and headed back to the passenger side. “And I know you hate my driving, so here you go,” you said as you handed Sam the keys. “Sorry it isn’t a Ferrari. I was lucky to get this Kia. They didn’t exactly have anything race course worthy.”

As Sam climbed in, he saw bags of gear in the back seat. “You pulling a Wanda? Need some me time away from all us testosterone jockeys? Cyborg is going to be pissed.”

“Bucky has other stuff to deal with, trust me,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “He does not need to add Crazy Old Broad to his growing list of things to do and people to take care of this week. I heard him talking to Steve…”

“You? Eavesdropping? You are human!” Sam smirked, but then he saw the comment had hit a nerve. “You know I was kidding, right?”

“I know you are,” you said as you swallowed hard. In reality, you were not exactly buying that last comment. Sam was a sweetheart, but his comment sounded like things Tony and Steve had said about you in the weeks before the Time Heist. It depended on the situation, but one or the other of them seemed to question you, your motives, your powers and what they could do, and, at times, your grasp on reality. You did have a connection to a goddess they couldn’t see. Blaming them for having those questions just was not in your wheelhouse. “And yeah, maybe I just need to go figure a few things out. You guys know how to get me back here if you need me.”

“Somehow I don’t think Steve, Bucky and I would look so great standing and screaming your name in the middle of a fight,” Sam noted as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

“Now who is having issues with gender roles?” you said with a very pronounced side glance. “Sam, we are all human. We all need a save now and then. Maybe you’ll never have to utter my name again after today, unless you guys can’t find something you think I hid? Thor will be back once he’s done exploring the universe, and you can always get him here fast if you have Strange find him. And Wong is just dying for his shot as a full time Avenger. We all know that! And I can go back and do, well, goddess stuff, I guess. And raise horses. Just, please, make sure no one drops the ball on Parker. He lost his parents and his uncle. Losing Tony will hit him harder than anyone likely expects. He’s a good kid. He just needs support and guidance. Now, want to get this thing moving, or do you want me to drive?”

“And have you antagonize the local cops by going Mach 1? No thank you!”

You had to laugh at that one. You did tend to floor it. A lot.

++++++++++

A short time later, you and Sam rolled back to the site Bruce had chosen to set up the time travel platform. After you two handed out all the food, you realized it was really time for you to get going. No, you didn’t have a train, plane or bus to catch or someone to meet. You just knew it was going to get harder to make the break the longer you stayed there.

“She’s pulling a Wanda on us,” Sam said as he finished off the last of the sweet tea he had grabbed at the deli where you’d gotten food. “I think it’s too much he-man macho stuff, but she won’t fess up to that.”

“Wilson, how many brothers did I have?” you asked as you cleaned up the trash from the table Bruce had borrowed from a local park that had been wrecked during the battle. It had a huge hole in the end, but hey, it was good enough for the moment.

“Eight,” Bucky replied before Sam got the chance. “Just don’t quiz me on all their names. I remember your twin, Branan, and the one who was the vampire. Ewan? Right?”

“Yup, that’s right,” you grinned at Buck. “And no quiz. Promise,” you said as you raised your left hand and crossed your heart with your right.

“Why are you leaving?” Bruce asked as he adjusted the sling on his still injured arm, putting extra emphasis on the word “are” as he uttered it. “We need all the help we can get.”

Bruce, heaven help him, was suddenly one of the last active OG Avengers standing on Earth. Thor was off finding himself with the Guardians, and no one could really begrudge him that. He needed time to heal, and you knew all too well that was not easy nor time limited. Clint had more or less retired again after Natasha’s sacrifice on Vormir. Steve was getting ready to take the stones back, but upon his return, he’d likely join up with Sam and Bucky again to root out any remaining Hydra cells. That left Bruce in a very different place this time around.

“Bruce, you don’t really need me being a head case. Trust me. You do not need me giving any news outlets ammunition to blast headlines that make the team look less than spotless. I need to go home, at least for a little while,” you replied, knowing full well you were not telling him or the others everything. “And as I reminded Sam, you guys can just call me, and I’ll be here. Just whisper my name. Or yell it. Whatever works. Text me! If it’s an emergency, and if I’m not in the middle of some new damned war on my end, I’ll come running. But I have a feeling you guys are going to be just fine. Hell, I’ll give you a blessing before I head out.”

Yeah. A blessing. More like the final nail in the coffin. The words to start the spell to make them forget you.

“Big guy, you first,” you said as you put your hands on Bruce’s injured right arm. “And no, I am doing this, Bruce. It won’t be a full healing, but it should speed things up. You got this, big guy. Biggest brain. Biggest heart. May you realize just how much this team was built with your sweat and tears as it was anyone else’s.”

“I can’t change your mind?” Bruce asked as he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and pout a bit. “And I am not asking because you are likely the only one of us who can cook…”

“I’m pretty sure all of you guys can cook something. Maybe not a good Colcannon or a fine Dublin coddle, but you’ll survive. As for the cupcakes, you guys may need to get a bakery on speed dial,” you added with a laugh because you knew they’d make that bakery rich. The Avengers loved their sugary snacks.

“Just don’t bug my sister, Bruce,” Sam noted as he waited for you to come over to him. “I still remember asking why the Cupcake Lady had a sword that night when those demon things attacked near the tower. I never asked. Why the cupcakes?”

“And not why the demons or the sword?” you said as you nearly choked on your words. “You realize that was before Steve saw me at Peggy’s funeral. That night was truly a fluke, Sam. No one was supposed to see that side of me then. As for the cupcakes, they were my entry to your world. Gifts from a fan girl. They’re easy to carry, a synch to personalize when needed, and everyone can have their own without fighting,” you said with a grin as Sam shook his head. “What?”

“You sound like Sarah.”

“Then I am in good company. Tell her the good stuff you’ve told me all these years. The words of wisdom. The little jokes. The pep talks. Tell her often. A single mom with two boys needs that. Be there for her, and drag these guys to see her, too. It would do the boys a world of good to have all their uncles stop by. Now, Samuel,” you said as you gave him a hug, “remember to keep these guys flying right. And if the world drops opportunity in your lap, whatever it might be, do not look at it and push it away without a lot of thought. The world needs Sam Wilson, the hero with a heart.”

And now the hardest part of this good bye had you wiping tears from your eyes. “I know. I’m a big mush. Girls from Brooklyn would laugh at me for this, right? Sorry, but girls from Naas and Athy do cry sometimes. I’m going to miss you two lugs. A lot.”

“Lugs. Last time you called us that was in ’43,” Bucky said as he looked down at his feet for a minute. “Somehow Hydra missed that memory.”

“You’ll see us again,” Steve said as he turned briefly to see where the case with the stones was on the platform. “But this time, it better not take 70 years.”

As you looked at the best friends, something about their auras seemed off. They had been planning something when you almost walked in on their chat a few days ago. You had no idea what it was, and you suddenly didn’t want to hang around to find out what the next act was going to bring.

“Just…watch your back, Steve. From what Clint said about Vormir, that one is going to be tough. And Buck, whatever comes next, I’m rooting for you. Even if you can’t see me doing it.”

“You really don’t have to leave,” Bruce kept insisting as you hefted your backpack on your shoulder.

“Dr. Banner, do you really want to fight my demons after all this? I have enemies. You just haven’t seen them yet. Frankly, the only reason that Hydra didn’t grab me before I hooked up with the Howling Commandos was because I was pulled into another dimension by one of those enemies. It was only by some weird twist of fate that Peggy found me when she did. If the veil between worlds had not been so thin near that camp, I might never have made it back, or Hydra might have found me first. It was pure dumb luck.”

{{And, Heaven help me, part of it was these two lugs over here}} you thought as you turned to head to your car. Then you stopped. This was a lot harder than it had been any time before, but it was the curse of an immortal to have to keep moving on. “I wish you luck, joy and happiness. I wish you peace. And, if you are truly lucky, memories long enough to have little space to spare for the likes of me because they are filled with so much more! See you in my dreams, for now anyway, fellas.”

++++++++++

You rolled out of there before Steve started his mission to return the stones, and you got a text from Bruce hours later telling you everything that had happened. Steve not coming back as planned. Then an older version of Steve shows up, sitting on a bench near the platform, and he gives Sam the shield. Right in front of Bucky.

It was now weeks later. No. It was months later, and here you were staring up at the sign for Westview. You’d gotten out of your rental car so you could get a feeling for the area around this little town.

“You made it back,” a voice said behind you. “How are you, after all that mess with Wanda and that Agatha woman? She was a real piece of work.”

The person speaking to you was Dr. Darcy Lewis. Friend of Thor and Dr. Jane Foster. Why was she even here?

You couldn’t fully figure out what the hell she was talking about. You didn’t remember being here before. Yet, you knew who she was, and you had never met her before. Or at least you couldn’t remember meeting her, here or anywhere else.

“Apparently not as great as I thought I was,” you muttered as you winced again. “Dr. Lewis, how long ago was the blip?”

“Give or take a week, about six months ago,” she replied as you started to pace. “Why?”

“Shit. Not this again,” you hissed as you looked up at the sign once more. “I think I’m going to need your help. How much do you know about Celtic myths and Irish history, Dr. Lewis?”

[notbecauseofvictories]

oh I'm interested in the tag novel on how fan spaces becoming more meat spacey benefits the producers!! also happy Halloween! 🖤🧡🖤🧡

It’s not a particularly academic argument---I don’t have sources to back this up, I haven’t done research. I’m also wary of painting a picture of “fandom” as anything more than a lot of weasels in a trenchcoat, because that word means a lot of things to a lot of different people, some of whom hate each other. But as long as everybody understands that this is the ethnographical equivalent of drunkenly throwing darts at a copy of the AJS...sure.

[under a cut because it’s long and baseless, and also I had a lot of thoughts and feelings. Sorry.]

My basic premise is that fandom occupies “fanspace.” Fanspace is not solely online, since fanzines and conventions are fanspace too, but since the 90s it has become increasingly and primarily internet based. While some websites are designated fanspace (e.g., AO3, ff.net, stand-alone fansites) fanspace is not necessarily contiguous with a hosting site (e.g., there is fanspace on tumblr, but tumblr is not a fanspace). Fanspace is really just those urls, message boards, threads, blogs, accounts, etc. designated for fandom and/or where fannish activity takes place.

Its deeply-rooted internet presence has allowed fanspace and what I call “meatspace” to operate on different rules. Meatspace has always informed fan spaces, of course---disclaimers on fic to ward off accusations of copyright infringement, for example, or asking readers to attest that they’re over 13 before reading an R-rated fic. But traditionally, fandom has accepted as norm things that don’t apply to meatspace: fake names and anonymous posts, pictures of someone else’s characters, lengthy self-published stories featuring violence, explicit sex, sometimes even gay people. Fanspace is in many ways an artificial carve out from meatspace, where fewer of its rules apply; fanspace supplements these with its own norms.

The division between fanspace and meatspace is not and has never been a clear, settled line, however. Debates on how much meatspace should inform fan spaces have been raging for as long as I’ve been on the internet, and to be fair to meatspace, it has made good points. (I’m not sure if “don’t be racist,” counts as a meatspace rule given...racism, but fandom frequently reacts to it like a meatspace intrusion so I think it should count.)

However, what used to be intra-fandom conversations have become increasingly more public, for a few reasons:

Part of this is just the natural development of the internet---it’s not like fanspace was ever hidden, but there just weren’t as many people online, and stuff was harder to find in a pre-google, pre-algorithmic promotion world.

Part of it is the changing architecture of fanspace---websites shutting down, Strikethrough, and the tumblr porn ban have all, in their own ways, served to alter fanspace and move towards more and more public-facing sites.

But part of it---and this is the biggest factor, I think---is that over the last two decades, we’ve seen content-producers** increasingly willing to engage with fandom. 

On its face, this sounds good! After all, fans like people who make things, people who make things want fans. What could possibly be wrong about both sides recognizing their mutualism?

I think this works when the most interaction you could expect with a creator was showing up a bookstore to ask Tamora Pierce a question, or writing fanmail to Paul Gross. But it falls apart when you consider just how public-facing fanspaces have become, and just how much interest content-producers have taken in cultivating the fannish audience. Content-producers engaging directly with fandom are a thumb on the scales of mutualism, and a heavy one. After all, one side of the relationship is a loosely collected anarchic cult, migrating along a series of websites they mostly don’t control, making do with nothing but ongoing wank and general obsessive tendencies. 

The other side has D*sney, Harper Collins, and Comcast.

That thumb on the scale has paid off, more than I think even the content-producers could have anticipated. Fandom is good at loving what it loves and talking loudly about it, but capitalism is way better at doing what it does---turning everything into profit. So now people pay $100 a pop to go to Harry Potter World. Conventions are well-produced extensions of their parent companies, raking in money and providing a blitz of publicity---directly to the source most likely to take your messaging and amplify it. Make a superhero movie and the minute the trailer drops you conjure up thousands of online fans will be your de facto, unpaid publicists---generating interest via fan art, fic, and controversy with minimal corporate effort.  Of course fic writers who have established online presence are the darlings of the publishing world---what publisher wouldn’t want a built-in hype machine for a new author? 

And, just coincidentally, of course, fanspace and meatspace are drawn closer together, that line further blurred by this new and very, very interested third party.

I’m not saying this is some big conspiracy. No tv exec is out there rubbing their hands together and cackling evilly about how they’re going ruin fandom. But in exchange for meatspace validation and an endless stream of new content, I think fandom has ceded important ground. And I think it’s changing fanspaces, even now:

One of the founding rules of fanspace is that it does not generate money---you risk real copyright infringement that way. (This isn’t to say that money hasn’t been involved in a few massive fandom scandals, but it’s not typical.) Increasingly, however, the grumblings about getting paid for fan art and fic have gotten louder, probably due to meatspace’s general emphasis on the side-hustle, and seeing content-producers churn out more and more fan-like things for a profit.

(It seems unimaginable now, but once upon a time the HP Lexicon was an invaluable resource, a rare unicorn in a pre-wikipedia age. Now, D*sney wouldn’t even think of releasing a tentpole movie without a novelization, a picture dictionary, and a tie-in novel.)

Also, those calls for fan art that “might be featured” by a content-producer are (rightfully) scorned for asking for work pro bono. But the takeaway seems to be “we deserve to be paid for our fan art!” rather than “how dare the content-producer intrude on our fanspace and its activities!”

Fanspaces have never expected or required legal ID, permitting anonymous or pseudonymous activity in order to protect individual privacy. And while there’s still no expectation you link your legal ID with your online/fan ID, the norm has shifted---it’s no longer considered gauche to go by your legal ID, even necessary when turning mutuals and followers into an “audience.” We’re not anonymous fans, engaged in our mutual hobby anymore---some people are doing that, and others are potential content-creators.

I’d argue that even purity wank if an example of this new blurring, classic “don’t like don’t read” arguments taking on new life now that meatspace is so nearby---we wouldn’t want to offend the neighbors!

Even these things benefit the content-producers: the more fan-like stuff they churn out, the less fanspaces will create on their own; the more fanspaces that emphasize linking legal ID to online ID, the less people will be able to engage in fan activities privately; the more meatspace rules assert themselves on fanspaces, the less fanspace we’ll have.

Now, maybe this is just...evolution. As I said before, there is a porous and shifting border between fanspace and meatspace. I remember angry threads about whether m/m fics should be rated higher than a het equivalent; I remember the tagging debates, the incredible resistance to accurately describing what happens in your fic. Maybe in a few years, my longing to return to a more separate fanspace will seem equally as embarrassing, incorrect, and unnecessary. 

But right now, it feels more like an erosion---one fandom is about as willing or able to resist as the tide.

.

** “Content maker” is a term that’s come to mean “anyone who makes something” which is sheer nonsense. There’s a difference between publishers/television producers/movie studios and someone recording a podcast in their bathroom. There’s even a difference between D*sney, a vast undead creative monopoly animated by copyright protections, and someone like James Patterson, who uses a stable of ghostwriters to churn out “his” works. We shouldn’t be scrutinizing all these things them the same way, it’s lazy, and intellectually dishonest.

[chibikinesis]

Snipet/first draft of a future scene from the Mojave AU under the cut because I crave dat sweet validation lmao

“So, I guess you two are almost ready to leave, huh?” Emogene asked, swirling her drink, and damn well already knowing her answer.

“It’s been a long while preparing, but yes, I think we finally are.” Jack replied, glancing over at his sister. Her gaze was lowered, and her head down slightly, as if afraid to look at him. He knew there was more on her mind, though, and his own expression drooped into a disappointed one. He’d already offered for her to come with them numerous times, but he couldn’t stand the thought of her withering away here at their home while he and Edward embark on the next big adventure. “… I can leave you some of the altered formula if you like -”

“Jack, stop.” She broke into a bittersweet smile and looked back over at him and shaking her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

She could say that, sure, but it wasn’t going to stop him. Even after finding the solution that led him to the composition of the new serum, he had offered to stay until she’d passed. And of course she’d told him she’d be fine. And of course he knew she was lying. She told him she didn’t want them to see her that way, but it was still going to weigh on him. Jack wondered if it made him selfish for wishing she’d come with them - if it was more for his own benefit than it was for hers, but another part of him felt that his heart was in the right place. But he supposed if she was ready to check out, it was hardly his place to try to deny her that. Though it hardly made the idea of coping with it any less painful.

“Hey, Jack?” Emogene’s uncharacteristically wistful voice pulled him from his train of thought.

“Hm?”

“When you guys get there…” She paused, her face scrunching ever so slightly as she searched for her choice words. “- like, not just get there, but after you two find a place to call home, and settle in, and find your footing… once you’re established, what’s the first thing you wanna do?”

Jack was taken back by the question, but as it sunk in, Emogene noticed his cheeks darken a bit, and a warm smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“I’ll make no such promises.” She answered, after taking the last swig of her drink, and they both laughed softly.

“I, ah… I want to do something I should have done a long time ago.” There was an almost dreamy tone in Jack’s voice as he thought on it. “I’m finally going to… ask him to marry me. Make it official, after all these years.”

Emogene wasn’t sure exactly why the answer surprised her. Maybe because they’d already been together for lifetimes, so it never really seemed like a necessity, but there was something about hearing his response that warmed her heart. She beamed her brother a bright smile, that he shyly returned.

“I know it’s been well over two centuries, but we’re making this trip to start a new life - to finally get out there and live, and do the things we’ve always wanted to, without worrying about family or reputation or any of that hogwash.” Jack chuckled again. “I want to finally make it proper. It’s the least I owe him. He’s been so damn good to me all these years, even through all the family drama, and so many times when I didn’t even deserve it -”

“We both know damn well he doesn’t see it that way, but I see your point. He’d never hold that over your head.” Emogene laughed, eyes growing a bit misty, though she tried to blink back the tears. “God, to think you’re finally gonna’ get married and I’m gonna’ miss it.”

She wasn’t sure if they were happy tears or sad ones - probably both. Even though she knew she only had numbered days left to make up her mind, she was still so damn torn. She recalled her conversation with Adrian; her concerns about weighing them down if she’d go along with them, and how she’s always so convinced that nothing good ever lasts that she sabotaged anything good that came her way, and how she’d grow bored and cause them more trouble than she was worth, and prolong their journey with her ‘petty bullshit’ and her mood swings. But she suddenly felt like she was alreay mourning everything she’d miss out on; the thought of not being there for such an important day for Jack, and one she’d always hoped she’d live to see. The thought of all of the potential twists and turns and bumps and excitement that their journey may hold, and how he might learn and grow as a person in that time -

Sometimes you can teach an old dog new tricks, Adrian had joked. - And, hey, if your brother can come as far as he has in a few months, you can too - if you give yourself that chance.

Jack could see in the expression on her face just how turbulent her emotions were, and his expression softened sympathetically.

“You don’t have to miss it.” he sighed. “Emogene, I know you’re tired of hearing me offer, but… you can come with us.”

“I know. I know.” She huffed tiredly to herself; this conversation certainly wasn’t helping her predicament any, but she nodded at her brother anyway. “I’m sorry. This shouldn’t be such a hard decision, and I honestly don’t know why I’m so torn -”

“Because you’re tired. It’s been four hundred years, after all. Believe me when I tell you that I understand.” Jack offered her a bittersweet smile, the emphasis in his voice a clear sign that he did, indeed, understand all too well. “Which is the main reason I’m only reminding you that it’s an option, and not trying to drag you along against your will. I know full and well it’s not my choice to make, and I’ll respect whatever you choose.”

They exchanged tearful looks and sad smiles for a moment, before their pinkies locked - like old times. Emogene finally reclined back against the couch, and allowed her head to rest on Jack’s shoulder, and he rested his cheek against her hair with a tired sigh.

Occasions like that were yet another reason that part of her so badly wanted to hold on longer and tough it out and go along with them - she hadn’t seen this familial, warm side of Jack since even before their father had found that gods-forsaken artifact. Before the rift had formed between them. Before the man had started putting his work ahead of his family, and a hurt young Jack had started to act out against him.

Before all the bullshit, Emogene mused. She always knew that side of him was still buried deep down inside him somewhere - and the change in him over the last few months - now that he wasn’t absorbed in his work constantly - was palpable, if not a little ironic. But unlike Lorenzo, Jack had the option of unearthing that older, warmer version of himself.

[thelucyaddams]

You're very sweet, princess

Azula x fem reader

(Y/N) only wanted to spend some time on the beach and relax. That was only until she noticed a strange group of teenagers playing volleyball. One of the girls caught her eye and (Y/N) found herself enjoying the time they spend together.

It was a very hot but beautiful day on Ember Island. It was perfect for some relaxing time on the beach.

(Y/N) isn't the only one to think that since the whole beach was crowded.

The firebender sat on her towel sunbathing and watching the people around her. There were many families according to the children that were running around or building castles made of sand.

Some teenagers sat together in a group or played some games. Just like the ones that were playing a game of volleyball nearby.

(Y/N) watched them playing for a second and soon found herself quite interested in the match.

To be more specific it was the one team that caught her interest.

Three girls and a boy were playing like they were professionals. Really they were that skilled and totally crushed the other team.

Especially one of the girls seemed to be pretty strong. Her dark hair was styled into a top-knot that was decorated with some firenation headpiece. Only her bangs on either side of her face were free from the bun. The headpiece told (Y/N) that this girl like her companions must be noble or at least her family must be wealthy.

(Y/N) looked up and down her body and decided that she was very stunning. Even with that determined and kinda scary look on her face. Or especially because of that look. (Y/N) wasn't quite sure.

Suddenly the volleyball landed right in front of her and (Y/N) blinked a little confused for a second before she realized what happened.

She looked up only to see the beautiful girl coming her way. Out of all the players it was her who came after the ball!

(Y/N) swallowed before she stood up and picked up the ball to hand it back to the girl.

Her hands trembled a little which she hoped the girl wouldn't notice.

Golden eyes pierced their way right through her. It made (Y/N) nervous.

"Girl, would you hand me the ball now or are you looking for trouble?", the girl said in a serious and slightly annoyed voice.

(Y/N) blinked again only to realize she was standing right in front of the dark haired girl with the ball in her hands without moving any further. Embarrassing...

"Oh no, no, here...", (Y/N) stuttered and handed the ball to the other girl.

The girl only rolled her eyes pulled the ball out of (Y/N)'s hands and turned around to go back to the others without saying 'thank you' or anything else.

"Wait!", the nervous firebender managed to say.

The dark haired girl actually stopped walking and turned her head around a little to look back at (Y/N) over her shoulder.

"I watched you playing for a bit... You're really really good! I like your style... Crush them for me would ya?", (Y/N) managed to say.

The other girl raised an eyebrow but smirked kinda proud.

"Please, tell me something I don't know.", she replied and sighed with emphasis, "If you really want to see how I crush my enemies for my own interests you should come over and watch from the sides.", she added again putting emphasis on her words.

Especially when she said 'for my own interests'.

(Y/N) smiled about the quite unusual invitation which she accepted.

"Why not. Watching you up close will be much better."

The dark haired girl smirked even brighter before finally walking back to the other players followed by (Y/N).

The firebender watched in awe as the girl made her words come true and actually defeated her 'enemies'.

People might say her little speech at the end was a little... exaggerated and crazy. Not for (Y/N) though. She kinda liked it and admired the girls passion.

"Liked what you saw?", the dark haired girl asked out of the blue and gazed back at (Y/N).

"Definitely, I'm curious what you can do in a fight.", (Y/N) answered.

"Careful with those words when you're talking to Azula. It might be your last day on earth.", one of her teammates said.

It was a girl with black hair, dark eyes and a very gloomy expression.

"Don't listen to Mai! I appreciate your interest in my skills. I think I can show you one or two moves.", the girl named Azula said.

"It's so good to meet new people. What's your name? I'm Ty Lee!", the brunette among the group said.

Her expression was the complete opposite of Mai. She seemed to be very excited and happy but also energetic.

Then there still was the young boy. He had a scar around his left eye which was obviously caused by fire.

"The name's (Y/N). Nice to meet you all."

"Well, (Y/N) and you girls are very welcome at our party tonight.", two boys that walked up to them said all of the sudden.

"The place is just up the hill. You can't miss it. My name is Chan by the way and this is my friend Ruon-Jian."

"Oooh a party! We should totally go!", Ty Lee exclaimed excitedly.

"I go when (Y/N) 's going.", Azula said.

The firebender blushed slightly.

"I guess a party doesn't sound too bad.", she accepted the invitation sheepishly.

"Brilliant. It's decided then. We'll come.", Azula spoke for all of them.

"Hey, what about me?", Zuko protested.

His sister rolled her eyes.

"You're obviously with us, dum-dum.", she said.

"Yeah, alright. Meet us right after sunset.", was all Chan said before leaving them.

"So what was your name again?", (Y/N) asked the boy.

"Just call me Zuko."

"Or Zuzu.", Azula teased him earning a glare by her brother.

(Y/N) chuckled.

"Alright, guess I'll meet you later.", the firebender said waving them good bye.

"Yes, see you later, (Y/N)", Azula mumbled her possessive gaze never leaving the girl until she was out of sight.

The princess sighed.

"Come on, let's prepare for that party.", Azula said and started walking away followed by the others.

-------------------------🔥-----------------------

Slightly annoyed and even jealous Azula watched Ty Lee who was surrounded by all those boys while she was standing here alone without any attention.

That was only until a sweet voice spoke up next to her.

"Sorry, I'm late but I hope you're still up to enjoy this party."

Azula turned her head and got a very strange feeling in her guts when she saw (Y/N).

"That's why I'm here am I not?", Azula replied unusually nervous.

Her eyes went up and down (Y/N)'s body and took every bit of her skin that was visible. She looked truly stunning in that traditional firenation gown.

(Y/N) blushed when she took notice of Azulas gaze especially when it stayed on her trace of an abs.

"Well, you looked a little lost over here.", the firebender replied sheepishly only to earn a slight scoff by Azula.

"You don't really know me yet so I should tell you that I never get lost.", Azula answered arrogantly, "But I guess I could use the company and since you're here now... Tell me about yourself."

"Oh well, I'm a firebender I guess. My father is an admiral in the army. He is leading the fleet called 'The Dragon'. One of those elite spy units..."

"Admiral Huan, I see. Means you're from Fire Fountain City but as soon as your father got promoted you got a nice house in the capital."

(Y/N) was taken aback by how much Azula knew.

"How..."

"I guess I know a lot about the war especially about the men that fight for our nation. What about you? Did you join the army?"

"No, I really want to but father wouldn't let me. Not after what happened to my brother... Not after we lost him and mother... She never supported the war. It was a forced marriage so at some point when father wasn't home she left.. She just left us alone."

Azula didn't speak for a second. She was surprised by how easily (Y/N) opened up to her. Also she got this strange feeling in her stomach again when she realized their similarity. They both lost theirs mother's.

(Y/N) shock her head.

"But enough about it. We're at a party let's grab a drink and maybe we could dance for a bit?", the firebender tried to change the topic.

Azula only nodded.

So that's what they did. Trying some of the drinks. The fire cocktail definitely had something to like it. They also danced. Both of them had a hard time to relax and enjoy the music at first but after a while they both made fun of it and managed to move less stiff.

Zuko and Mai watched in surprise from afar when they saw Azula actually having fun and looking less scary for a bit.

Ty Lee on the other hand smiled. She was happy for her friend to enjoy herself instead of thinking about war and how to torture other people.

-------------------------🔥-----------------------

(Y/N) gazed up at the sky watching the stars while the little campfire in front of her warmed her body. But it wasn't just the fire that provided her warmth. It was the girl next to her as well.

Azula and (Y/N) were the last ones to enjoy the night. Zuko, Mai and Ty Lee already left.

After what happened at the party they just wanted to have some quiet moment.

Azula had opened up about her mom a little. (Y/N) felt nothing but sympathy for the girl. She knew to well how it was to lose your mother.

But when Azula confessed that her mom thought she was a monster (Y/N) felt nothing but anger. Even though they had just met this afternoon she felt like Azula was misjudged.

She couldn't see anything in her that would make her a monster. Even if she had some characteristics that made her... different it doesn't mean she was bad. No, she was just human just like anyone else.

"Would you still like to join the war?", Azula asked out of the blue.

(Y/N) shoot her a slightly confused look before answering.

"Yes, I guess. But father..."

"Oh believe me I have my ways to ensure you can join me in the fightings. In fact there's no one else that can make it happen. Your father won't have a choice but to let you go.", Azula explained.

"If that's so... then I'd love to join you."

"Brilliant. You and I we will rule the whole world and bring our nation to victory together!"

(Y/N) chuckled and leaned towards Azula a little to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek.

Azula looked completely taken aback and tried to hide the blush that appeared on her face.

"You're very sweet, princess.", the firebender whispered.

It took the princess aback even more.

"You know?"

"Well, a boy with that scar... His name's Zuko and his sister is called Azula. You know a lot about war and are utterly talented and you definitely aren't normal... Too many hints.", (Y/N) explained.

Azula smirked.

"Well, look at that she's not only beautiful but also clever... I like that.", the princess whispered getting her courage back.

"You know what I would like?"

Azula raised an eyebrow but closed her eyes when the firebender gave her another kiss. But this time on the lips.

Oh yes, they'd definitely rule the world together.

[rosaliepostsstuff]

Chapter 1 - Of quidditch, detentions and birthdays

series masterlist

tag list for this series:  @weasleysbees​ all George fics: @hufflepuff5972​

if you’d like to be added, send a DM or an ask

warnings: swearing, mentions of wounds, slight mention of food, alcohol drinking

word count: 1823

a/n: hope it’s a nice opening that will keep you interested and give you the feel of the whole series;  we couldn’t have a fic taking place during ootp without a classic detention with umbridge sorry

I’d love to know what you think about it!

—————①—————

Quidditch. You were decent on a broomstick, but the catching and throwing part has never been your strong suit. The summer sun was blazing hot, not helping you focus on the game. Suddenly Ron took a shot at one of the makeshift posts, the quaffle was speeding in your direction and you panicked slightly – lost your balance on the broomstick and dangled upside down. As you grasped the stick for dear life, the ball hit you square in the forehead, knocking you out.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you mocked George who was wheezing with laughter beside you. “That was years ago. Besides, it’s called the sloth-grip roll, you’re just not on that level yet” “No-no it was brilliant – you saved the game, you just weren’t there to see it anymore,” he tried to regain his composure.

You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. He gave you a wide grin and draped his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to his side.

You were watching the try-outs together, not really paying attention until it was Ron’s turn. In the distance, you could see Fred juggling beaters’ bats behind Angelina’s back. “D’you think he’ll get in?” you asked curiously. He shrugged and made one of his faces, so you jabbed him on the side with a finger.

“Ron’s good, isn’t he? He should get in…” you worried. “Yeah, yeah, he’s alright. You’ve seen all those other slacks, he’s got a good chance,” he reassured you.

You crossed your arms on your chest and rested your head on his side. “I hope so. It means a lot to him.”

 —————①—————

 “Oh but that is absolutely ridiculous!” you exasperated, “It’s fucking torture..!” you pointed at Harry’s hand.

You had been chatting with Hermione, Ron and Harry in the courtyard, late afternoon, and noticed the wound on his hand, then made them explain everything in detail. It made you furious.

“First they try to make us dumb, then re-shape us - using violence?!” you whisper-yelled, then noticed three’s terrified expressions.

“Eh hem” you heard behind your back. “Oh for fucks sake…” you mouthed silently and slouched your shoulders, sighing in defeat. “Miss Y/L/N, is it?” She knew your name well, although up until this point you tried not to step out of line, from the very first lesson with Umbridge you showed your dissatisfaction with the new regime rules. Much to Fred and George’s amusement as you usually tried to avoid conflict whenever possible.

With a stoic expression, you turned on your heel to face her. “Yes, professor?” “You have to agree this kind of language does not suit a young witch like yourself. It is in your best interest that we work on your attitude a bit as well. I’ll see you in my office after dinner, dear,” she finished with that sickening smile and walked off.

 Defeated, you approached George and Fred at the table and sat down in silence. They glanced at you curiously. “Why the long face, sweet cheeks?” Fred asked, making you snicker and a small smile broke out on your face. “I-“ you elongated, “had an encounter with Umbridge.” “Oof..” grimaced George. “Yikes, you looked like you were about to maul her last class. Too bad I wasn’t there to see it this time around, what’d you do?” Fred propped his chin on his palm, abandoning the food. “She appeared behind my back in the middle of my tirade about her,” another set of oofs and acknowledging nods, “a strong-worded one…” “Oh this is brilliant, why weren’t we there…” Fred expressed with amusement.

George found the situation quite funny as well but was less expressive about it because he felt bad for you just a bit more than his twin. “I-I... I’m sure you can imagine,” you tried to drop the topic, getting busy with the plate in front of you. They didn’t know about her method of discipline and you weren’t keen on letting them know. “Tsk- whatever, don’t tell your best friends,” he pouted, then brought the conversation to their newest developments with the Skiving Snackboxes.

 ‘I will respect my superiors’ was written out underneath a bandage on your left hand. You’ve been successfully hiding it for almost a week, telling George you cut yourself during potions.

You felt a sharp pain and winced as he grabbed your hand to speed you up on your way to hang out by the lake. “Oh, sorry, Cherry!” he apologized immediately and stroked your hand delicately with concern, “I forgot…” You smiled at him reassuringly, “It’s alright.” “Does it still hurt so much..?” he frowned slightly, confused, “It should’ve started healing by now…”

It would’ve if you hadn’t spent every evening in the toad’s office.

You shrugged dismissively and started walking again, George following. “I don’t think that’s good, Y/N. Maybe you should go to Pomfrey..?” “Noo, it’s fine, I’m sure it’ll heal in no time,” – just a couple more days of detention, you thought. “Well, let me see it, at least,” he said softly and you felt faint. Not only would he find out about the black quill and freak out, but you also hid it from him, deliberately, lied even.

“Y/N” he repeated in a more serious tone. “George, it’s fine, really” you still tried to shrug it off, knowing well it was a lost cause. He sensed something was off. He stopped walking, expecting you to do the same. When you looked at him, he reached out his hand for you to show him the bandage and you obliged.

You held your breath as he unwrapped the dressing. You only dared to look up at him after a few long seconds of silence.

His eyes were still trained on the words, jaw clenched and he started caressing the skin around the wound with his thumb.

He then looked at you and you spoke without words.

You were sorry for not telling him.

He was disappointed but concerned about you.

You wanted to reassure him you were holding up okay.

And he was furious with Umbridge.

“Ferula,” he cast and put his wand away as your hand got wrapped up in clean bandages.

“Please, don’t do anything stupid now…” you worried, “I don’t need revenge.” He smirked a bit, but remained rather serious, “You’ve known me for too long…”

He let go of your hand and resumed walking, putting his hands in his pockets. “I mean it, Georgie. It will have changed nothing and it’s no good if she just makes you write those stupid lines too.” You sighed, “Promise me you’ll be more careful around her. And Fred too.” “Brave of you to assume I can control him,” he snickered, making you smile. “but I can try if that’ll make you happy.” “Thank you,” you said with a big grin, wrapping your arm around his. “Speeaaking of making you happy,” he paused for emphasis, looking up into the sky, “your birthday’s coming up. You didn’t make any plans, did you?” “Mmm, depends what you’re offering.”

 —————①—————

 Your birthday was in the middle of the week this year, so you planned to have a proper party over the weekend. And the evening of the actual birthday, George booked for himself.

It was late, you took a shower and as per instructions – changed into comfy PJs. Excited, you walked down the steps and into the common room.

There were only a few last stragglers left in there, buried in rolls of parchment, probably writing last-minute essays.

No George in sight.

Next to the couch in front of the fire, you saw blankets and pillows spread out, and some snacks on the coffee table. Walking up closer you noticed a little note in George’s hand-writing:

Do not touch or you’ll regret it

You chuckled under your breath and the round door opened, revealing George with two mugs in hands. He was also wearing some pyjama pants and a comfy jumper.

“Heeey!” he greeted with a wide grin. “Good evening” you replied with a smile and a little nod. “That all you?” you gestured at the table as he set down the mugs. “Unless you want to count Fred’s snickering as help,” he complained sitting down and you did the same.

“Oooh, hot chocolate..!” you exclaimed leaning over the mug in front of you.

George reached behind him and revealed a bottle of firewhisky and you chuckled. “For a bit of kick.” He opened the bottle, then hovered it over your mug and glanced at you, asking for permission and you nodded.

He poured a little bit into both mugs.

“Happy seventeen!” he toasted and you clinked delicately, not to spill the hot liquid, then gave it a taste, letting its warmth pour through your bodies.

“How was your day, Cherry?” he asked, getting comfy on the pillows and wrapping both his hands around the warm mug.

You didn’t see him much that day, with the exception of meals, as you took many more N.E.W.T. classes than him.

“Alright. Went by quickly. Snape wished me a happy birthday.” “Oooh” “Yeah, I don’t know if he was being sarcastic or not. Knowing him, he could be, even with birthday wishes… how about you?” you took another sip of the hot chocolate. “Mmm... We might be getting closer to figuring out how to stop the nosebleeds,” he opened a box of biscuits, “but we need to read up on it a bit more before testing it.”

 “That’s not the end of my surprises,” he said after you finished the conversation about nosebleed nougats, standing up for a moment to retrieve a small packaging he then presented to you with a giddy smile. You placed it in your lap and let your hands ghost over the ribbon, “I was about to say you didn’t have to, but then I remembered you’re a rich business owner now.” you teased him, earning a small laugh. He bit his lip and waited for you to continue.

It was a book, the newest tome of a series you and George would geek out about together. It had just come out.

Screeching out of joy you tackled him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You managed to get it already?!” you questioned. “Yup. Blood, sweat and tears it cost me, but I’ve got it,” he said proudly. “Thank you, Georgie” you gave him one last squeeze and pulled away to admire the book once more. “You’re welcome, love. D’you wanna start reading it tonight?” he asked with clear excitement in his voice. You nodded and opened the book on the first page right away.

You stayed up late that night, taking turns in reading out loud for as long as you were able to fight off the tiredness. Eventually, it was just the two of you, immersed in your favourite fantasy adventure, the soft crackling of the fire serving as a background.

You couldn’t have asked for a better seventeenth birthday.

[blitzturtles]

Title: Night Off

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayDick

Summary: “If you’re not here to kill me, then get out!” Dick calls without moving. He should probably double check as to who his intruder is, but the idea of moving is somehow more unappealing than the idea of one of his enemies actually managing to break into his apartment. He’ll take the risk of potential kidnapping if it means that they’ll do most of the bodily lifting for him.

Notes: I was having a chronic pain flare, asked my wife who I should inflict it on, and her answer was, “Jotaro and/or Dick Grayson”. So here’s the Dick Grayson version. Btw, I’m doing a writing / fic giveaway! Check out this post to see how to enter. Goes until 8.25.21!

-

It’s extremely rare for Dick to pull out of a planned patrol, but there are nights when he can’t handle the thought, much less actually suit up and venture out into Gotham. Tonight is one of those nights. Old injuries are rearing their ugly head, making themselves too known to be ignored, and he knows that going out will be a mistake. He’s more likely to cause trouble than he is to prevent it, and he’s not about to cut into someone else’s patrol just to have someone come to his rescue. That’s time that could be better spent, and he hates the idea of anyone knowing the degree of pain he’s dealing with. To know that it cripples him to the point where walking is a slow, agonizing process. It feels like a weakness that he’s not prepared to share.

Bruce has chronic pain. That’s something Dick’s known for years. Possibly since he was a child, but the man never seems to be stopped or even slowed down by it. He’s never missed a patrol. Never needed someone to fish him out of a bad situation brought on by his knee completely giving out on him (not that Dick admitted to that being the problem; he’d lied and claimed it had been freshly injured.) It’s frustrating to watch, and it sets a precedent that Dick can’t keep up with. It makes him feel pathetic on nights like these, and it’s all he can do to try to distract himself with crappy television. Up until the moment when something crashes into his apartment through his-- previously locked-- window.

“If you’re not here to kill me, then get out!” Dick calls without moving. He should probably double check as to who his intruder is, but the idea of moving is somehow more unappealing than the idea of one of his enemies actually managing to break into his apartment. He’ll take the risk of potential kidnapping if it means that they’ll do most of the bodily lifting for him.

Sure enough, Jason shows up in the doorway of his living room a moment later with his helmet at his side, but his cowl still fixed in place. “You’re not dressed,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and it makes Dick’s eyebrows climb up toward his hairline.

“Are you my babysitter now?”

“No,” Jason snarls, “I’m not fucking Bruce.”

“Alright then,” Dick shrugs and tries to leave it at that. The keyword being ‘try’, because Jason never could leave well enough alone.

“Why aren’t you out?”

“Changed my mind. Am I not allowed to do that?” Shit. He sounds unnecessarily snappish. More so aloud than he does in his own head, which he knows is the pain getting the better of him, but that doesn’t mean he wants it to reflect in his tone. He heaves a sigh, “Sorry, just wasn’t up for it tonight, you know? Think I twisted my ankle a little last night, and I thought I would take a night. See if the swelling goes down.”

Jason frowns as he mulls over those words, but he doesn’t outright reject them. “Okay,” he starts, and Dick almost sighs in relief, if only internally, “So that was bullshit.”

Fuck.

“Jason-”

“We can do this all night, so you can keep lying to me, or you can just tell me what’s going on,” Jason’s gaze shifts from Dick to the rest of his apartment, undoubtedly looking for some kind of clue. Or possibly some sort of trouble. Neither of which he finds, because Dick’s too stubborn to ice his joints, and the compression wraps he has on are hidden by his clothes.

“I’m not kidding about my ankle,” Dick says after a moment of contemplating his word choice.

“You’re just lying about the cause,” Jason concludes after a moment. His head is cocked to the side, but it’s apparent that he’s fixated on the offending joint, “And it’s not the only thing bothering you.”

The problem with Jason is that he’s far more observant than most people give him credit for. And intelligent, for that matter. It’s easy to forget that Jason thinks Shakespeare is a fun read, and that he’ll spend hours debating the topic with Alfred, if given the chance (and Alfred is always willing). There’s also the fact that Jason tends to pick and choose when he’s going to press an issue; often because he intends to come back around to it, but only when the situation turns in his favor. But the favor here has always been Jason’s. Dick’s stuck on the couch of his apartment, unwilling to move unless absolutely necessary, because his knee will feel like it’s being torn in half if he does, and that’s to say nothing about either ankle.

“I don’t really want to talk about this, Jason,” Dick uses the name for emphasis this time. With a short, clipped tone that he hopes conveys just how badly he would like Jason to leave, but Jason’s also nothing if not obstinate.

“Have you tried ice yet? Or heat?”

The words startle Dick, and he looks to Jason with far too many emotions readable on his face. Jason merely raises an eyebrow in return, and Dick sighs, “No. I don’t think I can get up.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes the word, like he hadn’t expected the answer. And he probably hadn’t. He’d probably expected Dick to continue to deny reality. To lie through his teeth until Jason gave up (which wasn’t going to happen, but that’s beyond the point now.) “Okay. Got any ice in the freezer?”

“Yes- what?”

Jason’s gone in an instant, heading for the kitchen with little concern for Dick’s desire to be left alone. He comes back a minute later with several bags full of freshly scooped ice. He passes them to Dick, one at a time, while Dick slowly places them on various offending limbs.

There’s a dumbstruck expression on Dick’s face, as if he can’t fully process what’s happening, which might have to do with why he doesn’t stop it either. Jason disappears again, this time into the bathroom, and Dick just- let’s him. He’s not sure what else to do now that Jason’s set his mind to- whatever it is he’s set his mind to.

“Here,” Jason says when he comes back with a paper cup of water and a handful of pills. It takes Dick a moment to remember that, a. His first aid kit is in the bathroom just like most peoples’, and the leap for Jason figuring that out isn’t really a leap and b. That Jason’s come here for a (very rough) patch up job more than once, which means he already knows exactly where he can find said kit.

Dick swallows the painkillers with little prompting and passes the cup back to Jason, who must dispose of it in the trash, given that he disappears into the kitchen again. When he comes back, he looks at Dick with that sort of halfcocked, curious expression he gets.

“Anything else I can do?”

“Uh- no. I think you’ve done plenty,” and Dick means that. Jason’s done more for him than Dick would have done for himself, and the ice actually feels kind of nice on the throbbing joints. Combined with the compression, it’s the best relief he’s gotten all day. Maybe the medication will actually do something for a change.

“Good,” Jason says, and Dick assumes that’s the end of that. That he’ll go right back out the window that he came in, but, instead, Jason flops on the couch cushion nearest to him and nods at the long forgotten TV. “What’re we watching?”

“We?”

“Yeah,” Jason says without missing a beat, “I got nothing better to do, and distractions can help with pain. Trust me.”

And two things occur to Dick right then. The first being that Jason isn’t just doing this out of some obligation. He wants to help. Wants to make Dick feel better, and Dick doesn’t know what to do with that information. And the second is that Jason knows, on a very personal level, what it’s like to be in so much pain that his body doesn’t cooperate with him, and of course he does. Jason’s death had been far from pleasant, and he still wears the scars of it. There’s no doubt he feels it in his bones and damaged cartilage. Never mind all the other injuries since then, and there’s a long, long list that Dick’s personally seen the fallout of several times.

“I don’t know,” Dick says once his brain starts processing in the right direction again, “CSI?”

Jason snorts, “What, want to spend all night yelling at the screen?”

“Maybe,” Dick says with a shrug, “You got something better?”

“Hell yeah,” Jason reaches for the remote, and Dick passes it to him without question, “We’re gonna watch some good ole-fashioned zombies.”

And there goes Dick’s eyebrows again, “Really?”

“Sometimes a man just needs something a little autobiographical, quit judging,” and Jason says it with such a severe tone that Dick can’t help but laugh.

Truthfully, it’s the best he’s felt all night, and that doesn’t change once the movie-- however bad it may be-- starts. He catches Jason with a small, half-smile tugging at the corner of one side of his lips, and it helps Dick to relax a bit, to know that he isn’t being judged.