#more coming soon to a theatre near you

[evanscrayons]

911 as that one brand of memes 1/?

[bluexiao]

#second lead syndrome… or is it really?

–when they couldn’t confess their love for you, thinking you love someone else / seeing you with someone, looking in love, how would they react?

CHARACTERS. Albedo, Al-Haitham, Ayato, Cyno, Heizou, Kazuha, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer / Scaramouche, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader

THEMES. Some angst, some crack, and some fluff, (pick your fighter); non-established relationship (yall are not together, just friends)

NOTES. first ever multi hc for this year! yayy happy new year everyone~

ZHONGLI knew he was a god, and you weren’t. And even still, a part of him dreaded—desired you in a way that he never thought he would in a human. You were supposed to be one of his people.

But now he loves you more than that. And there only lies the question if you love him too.

Yet despite the dread to hold you in his arms and to proclaim of such mortal feelings he had attained for you, he holds back and forces himself to watch from afar. For a god like him has no reason to meddle with the fate of humans like you—no matter how he claims to be a mortal himself with the name he bears now.

And so, all he could do was watch you from afar, eyes fixed as if he was watching a theatre play unfoldon a stage that he chose to be an audience to, whereas the main lovers fall for each other, and all he could do was watch.

But then your eyes suddenly met, your smile like the sun that scorched his being, a gentle wave with your haand as you cal his name; “Zhongli! Can you come over here, will you?” It wasn’t even his real name, merely an identity he had chosen to keep as a result of wanting to live a mortal life.

A mortal life.

Maybe he should try living more with that—with you, he hopes.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO has no use for love. Such a measly thing it is—to devote oneself to another with just mere feelings and empty words of promises.

And so Xiao stands on the top of the inn, looking down, his spear nowhere to be found, arms folded over his chest, and gaze directly focused–your way.

You were talking and laughing at a certain human, looking ever so comfortable as you usually do with him–or maybe you were always like this to others, and that includes him.

Then, as if you had sensed his presence, you looked up to where he was, but he was far gone, disappearing as if he was never there. If he had only stayed and seen the frown on your face, he wouldn’t have had to waste his time hiding away from you.

Xiao, he soon realizes, does have a use for love, as this ache inside his chest is something he cannot quell just by merely equipping his spear and defeating monsters.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

WANDERER was never such a patient man. And besides, he isn’t even human.

It took a while to accept his… circumstances, and once he does, he will be very obvious with his so-called “feelings”, usually sticking to your side most of the time and glaring at practically anyone who would so much as dare to glance your way.

And as much as he is always near you, he will eventually notice whoever you will pay attention to–especially ones that would be constantly haggling over your sight. But he doesn’t do anything about it–doesn’t confess, doesn’t try to talk and ask to confirm his suspicions. Does he need to? No. He does not need affirmations because he is perfect enough to not need one–a perfect being who did not need such things as “love”, or “partner”s.

The words will die down in his mind when he sees you with someone else, however, form already right beside you as he finds himself glaring at whoever it was, “Oh realy? I can do that ten times better than you can,” he’d bark, already mocking at everything that the person does or claims themselves to be. Don’t misunderstand the Wanderer, he just thinks that this stranger is just too useless, you don’t need to waste your time over them.

‘But they’re human, unlike you,’ a voice inside his mind would say, but bites his lips, not letting that slip through his mouth.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

VENTI sings praises and is full of love. He is the god of freedom and the wind. He is a bard for goodness’ sake.

“I am but a simple bard, how in Teyvat would they even see a person such as I am worthy of them?” he cried theatrically as he took a chug of his wine–or whatever it was in the bottle in his hand. But no matter how much he looks, the weight in his heart was very much real nonetheless, the memory of you with someone else plaguing his mind.

A god such as him losing to a mortal over your love. What could anyone possibly say if they hear of such a tale? Perhaps he may just end up writing a song of his broken heart to somehow ease the pain. At least thatw ay, he could Mora…

But one must never underestimate a god’s love… as eh might find himself crawling back to your arms tomorrow morning.

He has a lifetime to win your heart, after all.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

TIGHNARI felt his feelings of care for you were normal. Of course, maybe he only favors you among the rest, even against his fellow rangers.

And something so normal is not supposed to bother him even in times when he’s supposed to be focusing. The forest is an unpredictable and dangerous place.

“What seems to be bothering you, Master?”

He halts from his tracks and turns to the other, “It’s nothing, Collei.”

But it’s not really “nothing” if he ends up walking away after reprimanding you and one of the other rangers for “lazing around”. And yes, that same one who had been lurking around near you lately, especialy when he’s not around.

Clearly, there must be something going on between that person and you. Of course, he could not possibly let anyone be so lax with this work, even if it’s you.

“You’re probably jealous, aren't you, Master? Aren’t you and Y/n dating?”

Colei can see and atone to how the other freezes—his tail and ears as well, and all he could do was watch as Collei giggles at him while nudging him with her elbows.

“Master and Y/n look very good together, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret if that’s what you want!”

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

For once, KAZUHA was out of words.

Peace can be associated with silence, but silence is not always at peace–and now, the wind was completely silent.

“Not going to Y/n, kid?” Beidou stands next to him with crossed arms as they both have eyes focused your way. She sighs while she shakes her head, “Are you letting them go that easily?”

He feels his stomach drop, but the ghost of a smile on his lips masks the feelings he has inside. “They don’t belong to anyone but themselves, and that includes me,” he looks away and turns around, the breeze slapping his face just as much as reality does, “they are free to love, even if it will not be me.”

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

HEIZOU knows everything.

But this one he just found out is probably one of the things he just wished he didn’t find out.

Well, technically, it was a good thing!, he says to himself. After all… he always teased you and now, he probably did the right thing instead of… telling the truth.

Ah, by all means, he is no hypocrite. But, he does wonder when you had liked another person, and why? Surely, he had made himself known to you, with your daily meetups and banters, and you were even his “partner” in a case once. Perhaps he relied in his ability far too much that he forgot purpose for all of his efforts.

The least he could do was to support you in the sidelines… right? Surely he doesn’t like you that much to remain helpless in this situation.

When he saw you with that person the next day, he knew his resolve was far gone.

He must definitely find out what made you fall in love with this person…

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CYNO does not know what he was going to do. And so, what does he do?

He hides in the corner and observes.

Of course, he can just walk right past both you and the person who you’ve been eating lunch with for the past hour, but for some reason, he can’t. Something about the scene right in front of him makes him want to interrogate the person; what their job was, who their family are, what other things they do—they cannot possibly hang with you if they have a bad record. All the more, what if they have bad intentions towards you?

And so, with his mind made up, that was what he does. At least, intends to do until you saw him and he met your eyes.

“Cyno! There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!” Once you had caled him oevr, the person scrambles up an excuse and runs away as soon as they can, even stumbling over a few times.

All Cyno could do was watch as the perosn runs away and sighs, sitting right beside you and crosses his arms.

“Who was that? What do they do? Are they from the Akademiya? I haven’t seen them before.”

“Oh, I don’t know, they just came here and sat in front of me.”

He is definitely hunting down that person until his questions are diminished.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

What AYATO wants, Ayato gets.

Of course, that does not mean that he treats everything or everyone lightly, on the contrary, he does what he can to attain anything or anyone that he sees as valuable. With someone of his caliber, it would not be too difficult to get people to turn his way.

You, however, was someone who piqued his interest. Yet despite this, he lets you be, not doing anything… until he had seen you with someone else—a retainer of another Commissioner.

He reasons with himself that he only stepped beside you and piped in to the conversation out of being wary towards the other retainer—eh coudl not possibly have you, his friend, to be too exposed with the works of the Tri-Commision now, right?—and with his position and words, the retainer soon walks away.

“Now that they are gone, what do you say about having tea with me this afternoon, Y/n? Unless you have a scheduled date with that… retainer.” He tries to mask his disbelief, and thankfuly, you didn’t notice.

He ignores how you looked away, seemingly flustered for a moment as you mumble a small “Sure… and we’re not dating, master Ayato… it’s not like that.”

He looks away with a smile. Certainly, this is far better.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALHAITHAM is rational. Most of the time.

“O-Of course, The Scribe must be very knowledgeable, compared to a lowly person like me,” says the other person that Al-Haitham did not really catch the name of right after he just questioned the person’s intelligence (very subtly at that).

“Oh come on, you’re not lowly-“

“This is why it is important to raise our knowledge, even to the little things, as we do not know what we might encounter. If you want, I can even refer you to the Akademiya, you don’t need to thank me.”

“I-I’ll think about it… thank… I mean, see you later, Y/n… and Scribe Al-Haitham,” the person sooner leaves without any more fight.

“Hey…. What is it with you? Something ruined your morning or something?” You npeered at him and he merely looks away whilst clearing his throat.

‘We were losing our time. I wanted to eat our lunch as soon as possible. Why? Are you suposed to be on a date with that… person?”

“What? What on Teyvat are you saying?” Your reply makes him crack a smirk. Of course, he was right. How could he even think that you were dating that person… at least, he won’t let that happen.

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALBEDO respects you a lot. A whole lot.

Yet that respect comes with admiration, and sooner, he realizes that this admiration might have been stronger than he had thought the moment he saw you with someone else.

He does not engage, however, merely waiting until you had finished your conversation with that certain someone, looking quite joyful than any time else, more than the times you had spent with him, actually.

“Albedo! There you are,” you grinned at him after walking away, even looking back at the figure of the person you had talked to.

His eyes peers at you like a hawk, taking note of everything; with the brightness of your smile, to the shine in your eyes, and to the giggle that erupts from your lips.

Had he ever seen such qualities in your face before? He couldn’t help but question himself as you send him one as well.

“Sorry, just got immersed in the topic… shall we go?”

He forces out a smile—which seemed real nonetheless, “Of course.”

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side, “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he immediately answers, thinking that you probably had noticed his staring. He raises his hand and smiles, “shall we?”

He squeezes your hand when you willingly took his. Ah, maybe he could be greedy… just this time, he thinks.

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

taglist on reblogs!

[lives-in-midgard]

Sneaking Away

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: The Avengers and you were invited to a musical, when it gets boring you and Bucky sneak away.

Word Count: 840

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Being an Avenger not only means going on missions, training, holding meetings and doing paperwork but also with being invited to different types of events. Today you were all invited to a new musical on the Broadway. Some of you were more excited than others and some of you would rather do something else. You were excited to go, especially since you’ve never been to the Broadway before.

After putting on your favorite dress and some matching shoes, you grabbed your bag and left your room. At the same moment, the door opposite your room opened. It’s Bucky’s room and wow, he looked absolutely stunning and immediately started to smile when he saw you.

“Hey, doll. You look really beautiful.” He said, making you blush. You and Bucky have been friends for a long time, but you still always get butterflies when he calls you “doll”, maybe that’s also because of your crush on him.

“Thank you, Buck. You look great too.”

“Thanks, doll.” You smiled at each other and then went into the living room where the tickets for the musical were handed out. As you walked into the living room you saw that the others were already there, and Tony started giving everyone their tickets. After he gave you yours and then Bucky his, you looked over at him and saw that you will be sitting next to Bucky in the theatre.

“Where are you sitting?” Bucky asked and you showed him your ticket with a smile.

“Next to you.” You said and Bucky immediately started smiling.

“I’m glad.” He mumbled.

“Me too.” You said because you knew that he gets nervous when you are at an event and that he feels more comfortable when you are with him.

After a while you all got into the cars and drove there. Steve drove while you and Bucky sat in the back. When you arrived, the others were already inside and waited for you. After a few photographers took pictures of you and the Avengers, you all went to your seats. You sat down next to Bucky and smiled at him. A few seconds later Wanda was sitting to your left. You talked with her until it was announced that the musical would start soon. You looked at Bucky and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The musical started and it was interesting but after a while it got boring and when you looked over at Bucky you noticed that he was playing with his hands and not paying attention to the musical anymore. You reached for his hand and gently placed your hand on his. He looked at you and tried to smile. When you looked at the stage and then back at Bucky, an idea occurred to you.

You smiled and then moved over to Bucky.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You whispered in his ear.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He said with a smile. You got up from your chair and so did Bucky. He took your hand, and you walked past the others. When you saw Steve sitting there, you walked over to him.

“Hey, Steve can I have the key for the car, please?” You asked and Steve looked at Bucky and then back at you. He nodded, reached for the key in his pocket and handed it to you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome and drive carefully.”

“Of course.” You and Bucky walked out of the venue and to the car. You walked to the driver’s seat and Bucky sat down on the passenger seat.

“Where are we going?” He asked as you started to drive away.

“It’s a surprise.” You said and Bucky chuckled. After a short drive you parked the car in an empty parking lot near the Central Park. You both opened the car door and walked to the park. While walking you saw children playing, heard birds singing and after a while you walked past a lake.

“Let’s sit down here.” Bucky said, pointing to the bench a few steps away. You sat down on the bench and rested your head on Bucky’s shoulder while he put his arm around your shoulder. You looked at the lake and watched the sun go down.

“This is such a beautiful place, doll.”

“Yeah, it is.” You said looking at him and it was like the time stood still. You looked at each other with a smile and suddenly Bucky’s hand was on your cheek, and he pulled you into a kiss. At first it was gentle and then it became more passionate. When you pulled away you smiled at each other.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” Bucky confessed.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then how about we do it again?” You asked quietly and Bucky smiled even more now.

“We can do that, doll.” Bucky said and pulled you into another kiss.

And that was the beginning of Bucky’s and your love story. You’re excited to tell the others and experience all the special moments with him.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @beaubbdoll | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 |

@mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @brnesblogposts

[causenessus]

new grounds

part 0.8. SIDELINES . . . 1.27.2023

⋆｡°✩ technically this chapter begins around jan. 8th and i tried a little bit with major timestamps (ex. some posts will say 1 day ago or so which hopefully helps clarify timeskips just in case) ✩°｡⋆

PLAYING IN THE CAFE . . . abbey by mitski

his friends usher him out the doors as soon as the lights overhead turn back on. people sitting near him are standing up, turning around to talk to someone behind them but his friends have grabbed onto his shoulders and are plowing through the row out the door.

he holds the flowers close to him, a lump in his throat forming that he can’t seem to get rid of.

he’s glad he came. he’s glad his friends were able to get him here today. they talked for him when he couldn’t bring himself to and now it’s about to all pay off.

but they make it through the hallway back into the lobby and they’re surrounded by people. there’s so many people knocking into his shoulders he can’t think straight. his friends are giving him reassuring and teasing grins, clapping him on the back before most of them leave.

but his core group stays, he stands near bokuto whose also waiting while tsukishima and the rest choose to wait on the outskirts of the crowd. they’re all waiting for the cast to burst out the doors and he’s trying to calm himself down.

but he can’t do it. everything is too new to him. it feels like he’s blindly walking on a dark path he’s never been on before.

he shoves the flowers into bokuto's arms, along with the two other bouquets the man is already holding. “will you give those to y/n for me? but don’t say they’re from me.”

“what? are you sure? she’s coming out now,” bokuto says, looking back towards the doors leading backstage, where footsteps, ruckus, and laughter is slowly growing lowder

“yeah,” he answers grimly, bokuto looks at him before kageyama steps back, distancing himself to wait with tsukishima and yamaguchi.

“where’s hinata?” he asks.

“bathroom,” they answer in unison.

of course he was. why did he even ask?

“what are you doing back here? did you already talk to y/n?” tsukishima is looking ahead, towards the entrance to the theatre. the blond already knows the answer.

kageyama's eyes follow, just in time to see her come out. she looks as energetic and bright as always, a grin across her face that she can’t contain. he watches her find bokuto and see the three bouquets of flowers in his hands. her smile is even wider as she jumps into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

this feels much more familiar.

watching from the sidelines, watching other people live their lives, trying new things and finding the people they love.

this feels much more familiar, but something in him aches. he's not satisfied with what feels familiar and safe. he wishes that he had stayed over there. that he had done something new. that he had given her the flowers.

prev. | m.list | next

extras:

new grounds has a doormat that says “choose the path you’re unfamiliar with.”

(me subtly trying to write the title of this smau into this chapter but it didn’t flow like i thought it would 💀)

bokuto had one bouquet for keiji, one for y/n, and almost thought to say the third one was for them to split (it would be one of the bouquets that he bought, the one kageyama had for y/n would go solely to y/n) but then he just gave y/n two and explained it to keiji later

y/n has been putting off explaining what happened when kageyama walked her home to yachi for weeks

but keiji knows everything because of the amount of time they've spent in the booth together

keiji was the one with actual black shoes but everyone said it "cancelled out" because his pants had the tiniest white trimming at the ends

hinata also "cancelled out" the bet saying none of them had won since yams had to ask the group if they wanted to go to the show which is why tsukishima awarded him the pettiest bitch award

it took him like 5 minutes to make he just found an award template and edited it on instagram

hinata did in fact figure out y/n's favorite flowers but no one's sure how but because he actually did it kags didn't block him on his private account

yachi had to work closing night so she came on the 25th (y/n told her to wait just a little longer before she explained what happened with kageyama)

y/n was hoping to see kageyama when she came out to see bo and was looking in the crowd for him before she hugged bo but couldn't find him </3

taglist: @ncitygreen @lvrlamp @cherrypieyourface @mimi3lover @lees-chaotic-brain @frootloopscos @0moonii @cr4yolaas @eggyrocks @pinkiscool @httpakkeiji @localgaytrainwreck @lunaviee @kitty-m30w @lixie-phoria @aliruuiz @tartfrappe @corvid007 @iluv-ace @yvjitadori @k8nicole @ryeyeyer @thechaosoflonging @kettlepop (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[redbatchedcumbermayned]

It all started under a duvet held up by an oar

Not so long ago I emailed Chris Tester, the voice of Heinrix van Calox in Owlcat’s recently released CRPG Rogue Trader, and asked if he would like to sit for an interview with me. Having some experience in interviewing people I like, most famously Oscar winner and all-around sweetheart Eddie Redmayne, this was not a completely nerve-wracking endeavour. And within a day of sending my email, Chris said yes. And what a pleasure it was interviewing him: Chris was so generous with his time, that the agreed upon 30 minutes turned into 50 minutes as we brushed upon many topics from his start as a theatre actor to his first voice-over role in a video game to his recently discovered hobby of playing D&D. Of course, we also spoke about all things Warhammer 40k, his new found fame brought on by voicing Heinrix and the insights he could share about the character.

I will publish this interview in three parts over the next week in text form and with the accompanying audio file (the audio quality is not spectacular but tumblr limits uploads to 10MB). If you quote or reshare, please quote me as the original source.

Part 2 of the interview

Part 3 of the interview

Fran: Thank you very much for taking your time.

Chris Tester: That's no problem. No problem at all.

F: So then let's start. You graduated in 2008.

CT: I did. Yes.

F: You started out as a stage actor. Did you always want to become a stage actor or an actor in general? Tell us a bit about your career.

CT: I always wanted to be a stage actor. Yes, as soon as I knew that I wanted to be an actor, which probably wasn't until I was a teenager. But yeah, my first passion was always the stage, and that was kind of borne out in my career. I would have been open to TV and film of course, if it had come along, I'm a huge fan of TV and film as well, but I never got an audition for any TV or film work.

I think I literally did about three short films in my 10, 12 years of actually professionally acting, and it is one of those industries where the more you do of one thing, the more you seem to find yourself doing the same thing to a degree. So yes, watching Shakespeare from an early age was one of my first passions.

And that was what first planted the seed of wanting to do it myself. The whole aspect of live performance is still something that I'm very passionate about. Up until 2020, when the world changed, I was trying to do two or three theatre shows a year, but since 2020, I haven't been near a stage and I doubt right now, especially with the way that the UK theatre scene is going, that I'm going to be back on stage anytime soon. I am resigned to that, but at some point in my career, I know I will be on stage again, because I can't live without it, but only for the right thing, both financially, but more importantly, creatively.

F: Your production company is currently on hiatus?

CT: I was the producer of a theatre company, which was run and was the baby of the director of the company, a guy called Ross Armstrong, who's one of the most talented writers and directors that I've ever worked with. I was helping out with a lot of the administration stuff so that he could still put me in plays. Instead of creating my own work because I'm not a very good writer or the best writer in the world, I support those people who will write me good parts. So yes, it is currently on hiatus, but never say never, we would always be looking to get back. It's difficult right now. It's difficult for all of us, because arts council subsidy, that way of being able to fund stuff, is drying up. We were doing a national tour of the UK when we were doing that [with the support of a subsidy]. There's even less money, there's even more people. I won't bore you with anything more than that, but it's kind of tough. We'd like to come back, but in the right way, and that's tricky to negotiate.

F: It's always hard as a stage actor to earn a living.

CT: Well, I've been spoiled by voice-over as well, and whereas when I was in my 20s and 30s then you're all about your art. And of course, I'm still all about my art, but I'm also about my wife and my cat and the mortgage and the bills and wanting to have nicer things to a degree as well. I've come to terms with that and voice-over does facilitate that as well as it opens you up to different roles and working with different people. So, I can't complain.

F: It's quite similar with making a living as a writer, because with a steady income you get used to a certain standard of living and once you have obligations and bills to pay, I think the stress on your mental health being creative and having all the stresses of regular life thrust upon you brings with it a challenge.

CT: It's a cliche we can very easily fall into: if I'm suffering, then it means I'm an artist. And that's not necessarily very true. It very often means that the art that we create only reflects one aspect of our lives, and it's usually a very tortured one. I am also about having wider experiences and broadening myself out. Whereas I think when I was in my twenties, I was thinking a bit more like: Oh, I'll experience the world and life through my art and just purely through my art. Whereas now necessarily I need to have a life outside of it as well, and then I can justify like I have the life so that I can feed my art or not, whatever. You know, I'll be a better artist by having a bit of a life outside of it. Maybe.

F: But that's what your twenties are for.

CT: Yeah, indeed.

F: Doing the crazy stuff, doing the band stuff 

CT: Yeah, yeah, exactly. So, there was certainly an aspect of that in my twenties.

F: So, what brought you to voice acting or voice-over work initially?

CT: Money. Video game stuff is kind of sexy and cool, and I'm a gamer, so that's important. Before I was a video gamer, I was a board gamer and off the back of that, I was a voracious video gamer, partly because I wasn't very good at team sports at school. I was always the person who was picked last in the football team. So that becomes part of your identity for better or worse. But video games, I was pretty good at, not amazing, but I was pretty good at, and I enjoyed it. And it gave me a different form of escapism as well, and off the back of that I always had an interest in them. 

So, the very first voiceover job was a video game: Dark Souls, which is quite a big franchise. At that time, I was your very typically jobbing actor. My acting agent came in and said: I got something for you. And so, I went in with that. But it was only in 2016, 2017 that I realised it was something that you could actually do yourself. People had recording studios at home and they were contacting people directly, not just going through agents. Because I'd basically written to the same 20 voice agents in the UK, mainly in London for like eight years in a row and not received anything. So, you keep knocking on those doors hoping. 

Before I'd even graduated from drama school, I'd burnt a CD and made these cases with my headshot on it and sent them all off at what at the time felt like great personal expense and didn't get anything for eight years in a row.  So, I was a bit like, I'm obviously doing something wrong, but I don't really know what, because I'm doing these workshops and getting good feedback. Then I found out through a couple of online courses, that there were ways and means of doing it myself, and that was a bit of a game changer for me, and within six months of having started, I was earning more through voice work than the bar job and the box office job that I was doing combined. Within six months, I was kind of like: “I gotta quit because I'm actually holding myself back from things.” So that was quite a big shift.

F: Somewhere you said, you started out under a duvet and with an oar.

CT: Yeah. On my website, I do have an image of it. [Dear reader, I could not locate this elusive photo] I literally had to take the duvet off my bed and put it into the living room, which was the quietest space in my then shared flat. I also had to wait until after one flat mate had watched TV and another one had used the table that had their washing on it. One of my flat mates had stolen an oar from some night out and that was perfect in order to be able to erect it over my head and the duvet as a frame. 

I did probably the first four or five months of voice recording like that. Probably about 10, 15 voiceover jobs that I actually got paid for, I was using that because it worked well enough. Since then, I've gone through various different iterations of a setup in the bedroom, to a setup in the hallway, to my current setup. In 2020 we moved to our first house, and this is the spare bedroom which I've had converted into a studio, which means my cat can be here asleep on me or near me getting fur everywhere, but it's fine. I can thrash around and I've got natural light to work in at the same time, which I find quite important. [Pictured below Chris' current setup.]

F: Very pretty. That's good. Guide us through a typical day of yours, if you like.

CT: Oh, sure. I mean, there is no typical day. And yet, and yet, and yet. A typical day for me is, because I am spending the vast majority of the day sitting in this room or somewhere close to this room, because I may need to record at short notice, because the vast majority of jobs are quite short notice. My priority is exercise for mental health more than anything. I've got some weights at the bottom of the garden, and I will get up first thing, and I will go there and I will do that after breakfast. And that's my minimal routine of physical activity done. 

And then I'll come back, and this is so rock and roll. Now what I do is, I spend like an hour on LinkedIn. And that's what you dreamed of as a creative person. Isn't it as an actor? I spend time on LinkedIn regularly every day, because it's a really good networking place for a lot of my types of work, and first thing in the morning, I'm a bit mentally sharper. So that's when I come up with a quick post that may be inspired by a bit of content that I've made elsewhere. That probably takes about 20 minutes and then I spend another 45 minutes to an hour engaging with people and saying hi and introducing myself and asking questions, whether that's with video producers or game developers or documentary makers or pretty much anything and everything. There are a lot of people who are active at that time. And so I do it.

And then after that, if I already have some recording lined up, then I'll prioritise mid-morning, because I've warmed up physically a bit more then, and I'm focused. So, you're going through the scripts, annotating the scripts, recording the scripts, editing the scripts. But then there could be live sessions at any time within that as well. I try to keep hours from nine till six. But occasionally, like with Rogue Trader, that was recorded at various different times of the day because we had people in New York, we had people in mainland Europe, and we had people in the UK. So all different time zones, so that can happen at any time. 

And then I try to do other kinds of bits and pieces of marketing whenever I've got free time to. I do use really exciting productivity hacks, like time blocking. Again, not something that as a creative individual, I was like: Oh God, this gets me so excited, because it doesn't, but it works. It's finding a system that works for you, but still has a certain kind of flexibility and fluidity. I'm trying to make sure that I get outside of the house, and that kind of stuff. 

Recently, over the last year, I’ve started doing audiobooks as well. That long form type of thing is quite nice to be able to dip into because sometimes you don't record for two, three days. You don't get the work. Nothing’s coming in. So, you’re marketing, but it kind of connects you back to the performance side of things to go: I can do a few chapters and you know, that kind of thing. So that's probably it. I try to formalise it, but you know, every voice actor’s day is radically different. There are people, some of the biggest names, going into different studios every week or every day. I very rarely, despite being based in London, I very rarely go into external studios. Like I would say 99 percent of the work I just do from home.

F: So how do you find the right voice for the specific type of voiceover work you do, maybe start with how did you find Heinrix's voice?

CT: Thankfully, Owlcat sent through quite a detailed casting breakdown. So, you get a picture, and that's pretty crucial, as well as a short bio, in terms of the background of the character, but not too much, because you have to sign an NDA, a non-disclosure agreement. But even if you do sign an NDA, I think developers are always slightly hesitant of giving you too much info about the game because things could still be changed. But I think I did get a picture of Heinrix, if not in the first audition, then certainly on the second one. From that you immediately think about the physicality and what might affect the voice, and there was also some direction in terms of what they were looking for. Anybody who has heard the character and me, they do not sound radically dissimilar. There's not a transformative process that I needed to go through, other than his sense of authority and the space that he takes up and the sureness that he has in that he has a kind of divine right from the emperor, so that level of confidence being brought through.

The other part of the audition was about the void ship [the Black Ship] that he'd been raised in and the horrors that he'd seen. And you as the actor have to do the detective work to go like this is showing another side, the more vulnerable side, the side that underpins all of his life choices up to this point. It's essentially playing the opposite to a degree. So it was kind of knowing when to let those elements bleed through a little bit. I think I had probably about a page worth of scripts, quite a lot of script actually to audition with. 

But I don't like to listen back to it a lot, because I think you get into your head. My biggest thing is stage work where it's ephemeral. You say it once and it could be different the next night. The whole point is that there's no one definitive way of doing things. Not quite the same with voice acting, where it's being recorded and you've got to get used to hearing it back. But I try not to overthink it. Just like record it two or three times with different impulses and then review and go like, those two seem pretty contrasting. I'll send those along and hope and then never hear anything back unless I do.

[writer-in-theory]

nothing can be certain except (death) and taxes

Summary: When the words on a person's skin are the last words their soulmate will say before death separates them, Steve has never hated being loved so much. Pairing: Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove Rating: Teen Word Count: 2.3k Content Warnings: Temporary Character Death (EMPHASIS ON THE TEMPORARY), Canon-Typical Violence, Descriptions of Injuries Read On AO3: Coming soon (to a theatre near you) A/N: This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! Thank you so much for letting me participate again, this was so much fun to work on. @harringrove-relay-race

Steve always hated the idea of soulmates. 

The idea of a perfect match out there for him could have been a comfort, if it weren’t for the words carried on his arm his entire life. How cruel was it, for the universe to have perfect matches but only confirm them at the end of their time together? The words could’ve been a comfort, if they weren’t the confirmation of the last words he’d ever hear from his soulmate before they left the world permanently. 

I love you.

How cruel of his soulmate, to leave him with those words. 

Steve didn’t know Billy was his soulmate—there was no way of knowing, really—but he knew. It was obvious in the way that Steve’s entire world changed the moment Billy moved to town, and in the way that even hearing his voice was enough to bring a smile to Steve’s face. 

The other man hadn’t made it easy, especially in the early days when he was more a feral cat who struck out at any signs of affection made toward him. He could be rude, and often picked fights first rather than try to talk things out, but he was also fiercely protective of the people he cared about, and the more people who cared in return the more Billy seemed incapable of going without a gentle touch, even if it meant most of the time he and Steve ended up tangled together in a pretzled mess when they spent time with one another.

And the thing was, Steve was happy. Totally, painfully so. He looked upon Billy and wondered how anyone could ever make him feel so much all at once. Then he’d look down at his own arm and wonder how much it would hurt to go back to how it had been before, without Billy.

The Upside Down had taken so much from too many people, but Steve knew, standing on the second floor of Starcourt Mall, that he would be the one to ensure its downfall, no matter what.

Time moved both too slow and too fast, leaving Steve helpless to watch as Billy stood between El and the Mind Flayer, arms stretched out wide as if to accept his fate without fear.

He heard screaming, likely some of it was his own. He wasn’t sure how he made it to Billy’s side so quickly, just that he blinked and suddenly his knees were stained red from all of the blood spilling from Billy now. 

“Why’d you have to do that, you asshole?” Steve felt like he was choking on every breath, the air stinging against his chest as he watched Billy’s chest stutter and falter painfully. Please, take the air from my lungs. I don’t want it if you’re not here. 

“‘m sorry.” Billy’s eyes were on Max’s then, but the hand Steve was holding squeezed, as if to let him in on the secret too. 

He knew Billy had a complicated relationship with his step-sister, one that he’d admitted could have been better once they got out from under his dad’s roof. If they had more time.

It was like Steve was watching all of the time they were supposed to have melt away around them. It seeped out onto the floor like the blood that was supposed to be keeping Billy’s heart beating. 

“You’re supposed to stay,” Steve said the moment Billy’s attention turned to him. There was a glassiness to the man’s eyes, as though he wasn’t really seeing Steve. He’d take it anyway, because there wasn’t enough time to wait for Billy’s attention to refocus. He wasn’t sure it ever would. “What happened to graduating and getting the hell outta here? Getting in your car and just taking off?”

He’d balked at the idea of driving off without any plan, with minimal bags packed. Now, Steve would do anything if it meant they could have that future. They could slowly make their way to California, stopping at all of the cheesy tourist sites along the way. Steve would wrestle Billy into a dorky hat at the largest ball of yarn in the country and would make a solid attempt at getting arrested for trying to pet a bear at Yellowstone. He’d share sketchy motel rooms with him and complain about how uncomfortable the mattresses were, and even accept the teasing about him being a rich kid through and through.

He’d take all of it, for just a little bit of time.

Billy was coughing now, and the dark blood staining his lips and chin were only another sign of the inevitable. Even through all of that, he managed to say something. 

“I lo—”

“No,” Steve snapped out, hand still holding Billy’s squeezing tightly. No, it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready to lose him, not when they were just finding out that they’d been right this whole time. “No, don’t say it.”

If he didn’t say it, they could have more time. They could have more, as long as those three words on Steve’s arm were never spoken aloud.

Except the light in Billy’s eyes faded all the same, and the words he’d never actually said felt like a mockery on Steve’s arm.

“Steve, you have to go to the funeral. You’ll be upset with yourself later if you don’t.”

Robin still came by, sometimes. He wasn’t good company, hadn’t been since Starcourt, but she sat with him anyway.

“He’s not dead,” Steve said, arms curling tighter around his pillow like if he just held on it might feel like Billy eventually.

“Steve.” The words were sad, wobbly with tears he knew she was trying to bravely fight off. 

“He’s not. He didn’t say it, so he’s not gone.”

They’ve had this conversation before. Once, three days after Starcourt when she was still required to watch over him in case his head injury from the Russian interrogation turned for the worst. It had been in the late hours of the night, both of them laid in his bed awake and staring at the ceiling. She’d turned to face him, hand coming out to hold onto her friend when he admitted what he knew. 

Billy couldn’t be dead, because if he was then he would’ve said it.

“I know you lo—” The word cracked harshly on her tongue. “I know how important he was to you. But he’s, there’s no way he made it. You know that, right? He’d want you to move on.”

The thought alone had a dull laugh building in Steve’s chest. The longer it sounded the more hysterical it came, until he was laughing and letting out hoarse sobs in between. Robin’s eyes were wide and her lips were parted in both shock and horror at the outburst, clearly not knowing how to handle him now.

“He wouldn’t,” Steve said once the laughter died down, leaving behind only the tears. “The bastard would’ve told me not to move on. He’d expect a mourning widow for at least a decade, maybe two. But I won’t do that because he didn’t say the words so he’s not dead. He can’t be, he’s too stubborn to die in this fucking town.”

“Have you…you didn’t say the words on his arm either.” Max, the little traitor. “You’re allowed to love someone even if they’re not the one, you know? Maybe there’s someone else out there, and that’s not to say you have to stop loving him, just that you can love this person too.”

It was the more reasonable answer, but the mere thought of accepting that Billy was truly gone sent his heart threatening to burst straight out of his chest. There had to be another explanation, because there was no way that the guy who snuck out near every night despite the threat of discovery simply so Steve wouldn’t be lonely in his big, empty home wasn’t his soulmate.

“I can’t mourn someone who’s not dead, Robin. Tell Max and Susan I’m sorry.”

When the Upside Down inevitably came back, Steve didn’t feel his usual amounts of fear.

He was determined—completely focused and ready to take down the thing that had taken too much from him already. 

When Max admitted that the visions being sent to her by the fucking thing were of Billy, Steve thought he’d only ever see in shades of red. 

Because how dare that monster try to twist and mutilate any of Max’s affection for her brother into something like guilt? How dare he try to ruin the shaky truce that they’d come to just before Billy died?

How dare that monster wear Billy’s face, and use his voice?

Even if it took the rest of him, Steve would make sure that nothing from the Upside Down to crawl its way into Hawkins ever again.

“Steve! What the hell happened?” That was Robin’s voice, though it sounded further away than he thought she actually was. 

He was still seeing in tunnel vision, vision slightly blurry and blood pounding in his ears as he surveilled the scene, ensuring no more of those demobats had appeared.

He didn’t even feel the bites taken out of him until the others got near, Nancy’s worried gaze focused on the exposed skin just above his hips. 

“Hey guys, I think I found the gate,” Steve forced out on his next heaving breath.

That was a lot of blood, wasn’t it? It seemed the Upside Down took his promise seriously and would try to take literal pieces of him with it. 

That was fine, so long as this ended with Vecna’s plan stopped short in its tracks.

“Something’s coming,” Eddie called out, eyes watching the treeline ahead of them as Nancy and Robin looked over Steve’s wounds. They wouldn’t be fatal, at least not for awhile yet. He still had enough time to avenge his soulmate’s not-death.

Steve didn’t have his trusty nail bat, or much else in the way of a weapon. But he’d taken down a pack of demobats with nothing but his hands (and teeth), so whatever had the nerve to attack them now would come to regret it, of that he was sure.

It had to be another trick. Maybe this was Vecna trying to take hold of Steve’s guilt now, forcing him to see the one thing that repeated in his head every night in his dreams. Because walking out of the trees now was Billy fucking Hargrove, still in a bloodstained white tank though having also acquired a jacket that looked suspiciously like one Steve used to wear constantly in his earlier high school years. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” the fake Billy called out, “you’re doing what the fucker wants.”

Robin was nudging Steve’s arm, threatening to send him toppling into the dirt with how unsteady his injuries had already made him. She looked more hopeful than he felt, watching him with confusion as if she expected Steve to take off running into fake-Billy’s arms without question.

He knew Billy couldn’t be dead, but why the fuck would he be here?

The fake-Billy was upon them now, stood in front of Steve and looking at him with one eyebrow raised. It was this look that made Steve’s knees crumple in on his own weight, because God that was such a Billy move to challenge him even while announcing his not-death.

“You’re not dead,” Steve gasped out, stumbling back a step in an attempt to stay upright. “I knew you weren’t dead.”

“Then why d’you still look like you’re seeing a ghost, Harrington?”

The smile on Billy’s face was small, a little tug of the corner of his lips like he was still insistent on hiding it around other people. It said enough, though. 

This was Billy, back from the dead. He hadn’t said the words and he hadn’t died, and all of that time Steve thought they’d lost was never really gone after all. 

The kiss was pretty bad, by Steve Harrington standards. He rushed forward too roughly and their teeth clicked together awkwardly as Steve grabbed both sides of Billy’s face and pressed their mouths together. They had a better kiss right after, when Steve pulled back and watched Billy with a wild gaze until the blonde pressed their lips together again, hands holding onto Steve so tightly he was sure there’d be bruises left behind later. He didn’t care, not when it was another sign that Billy hadn’t truly been gone.

There was something desperate and wild in Billy’s eyes too, like he hadn’t quite believed this moment would ever happen either. Steve didn’t know what he had to go through to survive this long in the Upside Down, and while he’s sure he’ll find out eventually he can’t bring himself to care in the moment because all he could think was Billy isn’t dead.

“I lo—”

“I know, me too,” Steve cut him off, never wanting to hear those words in Billy’s voice. He knew, too, that eventually he would just as he’d known that their end did not come in the main walkway of Starcourt Mall. But for now, he could find peace in delaying the inevitable, in letting their hold on each other say everything those words could have and more.

There was still so much to do, too many important parts of their lives to fight for and protect. It felt a little more possible, though, with Billy by his side.

After all, who else could say they cheated the universe? They’d confirmed for themselves what everyone else could only guess at: Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were meant for each other, and it was as simple as that.

I am so pleased to hand it off to the amazing and lovely @greyghoulclub ✨

[margowritesthings]

The Greatest Gift A Cowgirl Could Ask For

a @rdrevents Valentines gift exchange for @cowboydisaster

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader word count: 4,400 words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, sexual themes, vaginal sex, mentions of death, unprotected sex, throwing up (TW EMETOPHOBIA), very brief mention of SA in the past, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of Micah Bell a/n: am I britney spears in her 2000 grammy award winning song??? because oops, i did it again. i don't know how I managed to get Bea as my recipient for a SECOND time, but it only felt right to carry on building this universe I've made for her and lying to her about it all week. Whoops.

Bea, my beloved, Happy Valentines Day. You deserve the world and Im so glad I could dedicate this fic to you. Honestly I probably couldn't have gotten the motivation to get back on my feet and write again if it wasn't for you. Thanks for everything you do bby and I hope this lives up to your 'if by some miracle you get me for your gift exchange disregard my prompts and write a TGG prequel' (yes she actually said that) idea. Love you lots xxx

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @luvliewriting @mrsarthurmorgan7 @photo1030 @snobbybastard

My Darling Wife,

I’m writing to you from up near Tempest Rim. I’ve tracked this bounty all over the goddamn Grizzlies and I’m ready to come home to you. I miss you so much and I’m real sorry I can’t be home in time for St. Valentines. Hopefully I can catch this bastard soon and make it up to ya. We’ll go to the theatre and sit right at the back, how’s that sound? I’ll move heaven and Earth to be beside you soon, you know I will.

I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can be with enough money to take you out on the town. Won’t be long, I promise. 

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

All my love, Arthur

Your finger runs over his looped script, over and over as if it will somehow will your husband out of the crumpled paper and into your bed. It’s been 2 months since the letter arrived, 2 months of the agony of not knowing if he’s dead or alive robbing you of sleep each and every night. You miss him, more than you could ever imagine one person could miss another and you honestly don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t come home. 

It’s a 600 dollar bounty, it’s sure to be a tough job you constantly reassure yourself, unable to focus on anything but the absence of half of your very soul in every waking moment. 

The day he comes home starts like any other. Time's arrow marches on, the sun rises and sets over your makeshift family as they work and plan and rob and hunt. You busy yourself planning a job with Karen, cushioned into your schedule between menial tasks so that it’s just that bit easier to not think about him. As usual, your efforts are in vain, but at least the chores are done, your steed Diesel is happy, and, all being well, you and Karen will have about 30 dollars to split between you when the week is out. 

An hour before he comes home, everyone retires to bed, save for John (who’s on watch tonight) and you’re left alone by the campfire. It crackles and pops, embers swirling the air around you. It feels like you stare at the twisting flames until your eyes blur and burn and you can’t tell which are tears of irritation to your senses and which are your heart breaking once more.

Moments before you’re reunited with the second half of your heart, you hear John yelling. It’s instinct that drives your hand into your holster, still resting against your hip despite the late hour, and you perk up like a startled deer, straining to decipher Marston’s words.

“Who is it?!” “Arthur, you dumbass!”

Arthur.

Arthur?

“Arthur?!” It’s a breathless shout, barely heard over the rushing blood in your ears as your feet take you to your husband before your mind can even fathom that he’s here. 

But sure enough, when you reach the edge of camp, heart racing, you see Arthur Morgan riding his chestnut mare straight towards you, spurring her into a gallop as soon as he lays his eye on his waiting wife. Marston probably makes some remark about who ‘decided to show up’, but to you, there is nothing but you and Arthur, two magnets parted by an unnatural force finally reaching each other again with a deafening crash. 

And it is. A crash, that is, when Arthur all but throws himself off his saddle and your bodies collide, great big arms wrapping around your frame. It is then that the tears fall down your cheek, soaking into Arthur’s coat that smells so much like him it truly feels like a dream.

You thought he was dead.

Only when you’re safely in his arms, when he’s pressing frantic kisses to your head, whispering your name over and over into your hair do you allow yourself to admit that fact. You thought he was never coming back, and yet here he is. Words fail you, the overwhelming emotion settling right in your throat.

“Oh, god… oh, darlin’ I-I missed you so much…” 

You feel two large hands cup your cheeks, pulling you in for a kiss that holds everything and anything the past 3 months could have been had you not spent it apart. But everything fits back into place, the world starts spinning again and you’re whole the second Arthur Morgan’s lips meet yours. It lasts a lifetime, it lasts a fraction of a second. You want to stop time, keep Arthur in your arms forever and never again have to go through the torture of being away from each other. The two of you only part to throw near identical scowls at John, who is amusing himself by telling you to get a room.

Unfortunately, as Ms. Grimshaw so often reminds you all, the Van der Linde Camp is not a hotel, so tonight you will not be afforded the luxury of a private suite as John so kindly suggested. There is only your tent, hitched against the gang’s weapons wagon, the old canvas pulled around to offer a little privacy when you and Arthur first started… well, needing the seclusion.

Calloused fingers intertwine with your own digits, Arthur’s other hand flipping John off before his weight pulls you towards your little corner of camp. There's so much purpose in his stride, the need to have you all to himself, not even share you with the lord above or wildlife below, driving him forward. Driving him home. 

When you’re finally, truly alone, the tears welling in your eyes glistening in the candlelight, no words are needed. Soon enough, you’ll talk for hours on end, catching each other up on every little detail of the last few months. But for now, all that there is and all that could matter is right this very second, when Arthur reaches for you, brushing a thumb over the tear tracks on your left cheek. His eyes, looking almost emerald in the dark of night, roam over each and every detail of you with such an intensity in him that you think he’s trying to remember this moment for the rest of time. You’re sure it’s one you could never possibly forget. 

Arthur snakes both arms around your waist, guiding you backwards until the backs of your knees gently hit the cot and you lay back onto it. He covers the full length of you and then some, making you feel so fragile and small. It’s nice to feel breakable for once, to let go of the need to be the strongest in the room, lest you be ridiculed for being too sensitive or too weak or too womanly. Arthur knows just how strong you are, you need to prove nothing to him, so you can submit to his embrace, allow yourself to just breathe for once knowing you can break and there’s re will always be somebody to put you back together.

He lowers himself to your lips, pressing a kiss to them that doesn’t last nearly long enough. Arthur then kisses your nose, then your cheeks and chin, before trailing down to the crook of your neck. Your skin feels as though it’s on fire, so starved for the man you cannot live without that now he’s finally here everything feels that much more intense. The tiniest scrape of Arthur’s teeth against your flesh shoots through every single nerve in your body and you moan right into his ear. You can actually feel him harden against your thigh at the sweet melody of your pleasure. 

Pushing Arthur’s hat off to the side, your fingers rake through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp encouragingly as he nibbles at your skin.

“Oh, Arthur… Oh, I missed you so much…” You breathlessly whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat when he pauses his movements to glance at you from under impossibly long eyelashes, jade green eyes glistening up at you.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So so much.” His voice is soft, as if he’s handling the peacefulness around you so delicately and it causes the overwhelming emotion to well in your chest and choke up your throat. Arthur sees this, trying not to be too taken with his own surprising amount of emotion himself, and relieves you of your job of a response by directing his attention to the buttons of your shirt. You don’t remember him pushing your jacket off your shoulders, but there it lies on the floor beside the entrance to your tent, so he must have.

Despite the juxtaposition of such dainty buttonholes and such large fingers, Arthur expertly undresses your top half until you’re bare to him. He takes no time at all to take one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing and sucking at it with a hunger you feel right in your toes. You moan loudly, unable to stop yourself after yearning for this very feeling for so long. 

Arthur coos and shushes you and it vibrates across your skin, not helping you stay quiet in the slightest. The hand not tugging on his dirty blonde locks reaches between your two longing bodies to begin to unbuckle his belt. You can feel your own heartbeat throbbing between your legs, your coil growing tighter and tighter by the second. It’s been almost 3 months since your bodies have joined like this, and yet you’re not sure you can wait another minute. 

You’re purring for Arthur, twitching and grinding as your hand fumbles desperately at the belt. His absence from your skin is agony the second he pulls his hips back to sit up straight. Spotting your downright bratty expression, bottom lip protruding in a pout, Arthur chuckles lowly, “Patience, baby… I gotta get these damn clothes off us.” He gestures to his belt, still very much buckled around his waist. Definitely not your fault. He was being far too distracting.

He’s quick, you’ll give him that, shedding his clothes without taking his eyes off you. You burn under his stare, even more so when he crawls back on top of you to slide your boots off one by one and peel your pants and undergarments down your legs.

The heat radiates off his huge body, his cock pulsing with need. The way he’s putting his weight into his arms to stop from crushing you with his weight adds a definition to his already beautifully sculpted body. Reaching down, you brush the tip of your finger oh so gently over his rosy head, finding a bead of cum already leaking, and you snap. You can’t wait a second longer, scratching and gripping at him like he’s the air you need to breathe.

“Please, Arthur, please I need you. S-So long, it’s been so long-” “Shh, I know, princess, I know. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna take care of your pretty little cunt, I promise.” He soothes you, though his own voice is shaky from the very effort of restraining himself, maintaining his control to not drive into you and ruin you. While he whispers to you, he lines himself up at your entrance and you quiver in anticipation.

In all your years before you met Arthur, you never really saw sex as anything but something to give, or worse, something to be taken from you. You never truly understood, not until you met Arthur, who taught you it’s something to share, to experience. With Arthur, it’s different. It is connection and pleasure and it’s wonderful and god damn it, it’s addictive. So when Arthur slides into you, letting out a visceral, guttural groan as he does, everything is right in the world.

You feel so full, especially when Arthur pushes all the way to the hilt, connecting you completely at the pelvis. The moan that escapes your lips is downright obscene and Arthur crashes down into your mouth to swallow it. 

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s been so long, or the emotion of it all, but you swear you can feel everything. Every vein and ridge, every twitch and movement of his perfect cock as Arthur slowly starts to move in and out of you. 

“Fuck… s-so good, darlin. So tight- y’feel so fucking good, princess…”

You’ve never hurtled so close towards a climax so quickly in your life. His torturously slow, deep thrusts drag into your sweet spot every fucking time and trying to hold back brings a blur into your vision. Your own hips grind against his, Arthur gripping into your flesh to guide you perfectly in time with him.

“I-I’m so close already, Arthur… fuck…” You breathe out, your breath tickling Arthur’s ear and sending a visible shudder down his spine. He looks proud at your admission.

“You missed me that much, huh? Gonna cum for me already, darlin’?” 

He gives you no time to respond, pressing a thumb to your clit and rubbing in time with everything else. You implode, pulling Arthur down to catch the scream you’re about to wake everybody up with. It has never felt so intense, and with every thrust Arthur fucks into you it only grows and grows, shattering you to pieces for Arthur to fix back together again. 

When you return, a rhythmic thudding in your ears, the first thing you see is Arthur, of course. His jaw is fluttering madly, a bead of sweat clinging to his forehead but the candlelight makes him look ethereal. You still can’t believe he’s here, alive.

Tears start to glisten in your eyes. You’ve never cried during sex before, not for anything positive, at least, but somehow this doesn’t feel wrong. Arthur slows again, watching you, and you spot an extra shine to his own jade orbs. He knows. He feels it too. 

He’s right there with you. As he always is.

He brushes a piece of hair stuck to your forehead away, and the gesture is enough to send the tears falling down the same worn path on your cheeks as before.

“I love you, Mr. Morgan…” “I love you, Mrs. Morgan…” 

It seems to become too much for Arthur to stay still, and you’re glad for it. You’re desperate for the friction, already flying towards another orgasm. He’s really fucking into you this time, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. He’s groaning and growling and you decide in that moment that it’s your favourite sound in all the world. 

“I… I ain’t gonna last much longer, baby…”

“C-Cum in me…” “Huh?” He slows, shuddering at the exertion required to control his movements, “I-”

But you’re not listening to his protests, your nails digging into the skin of his back and ass and anywhere else you can reach to urge him forwards again.

“Please Arthur, I-I need you… I need you to cum with me, I need you with me…” you plead with him, not truly understanding your need but honouring it. You’ve been without him for so long, you deserve him with you now.

He appears to consider you for just a moment, before diving down to lock your lips with his. His tongue delves into your mouth, tasting every bit of you and he starts to pump into you unreservedly. His body grinds against yours and the friction is perfect and you’re so fucking full and before you can even try to hold back, you’re cumming again, stars scattering your vision, heart pounding out of your chest to find release from it’s mortal, physical cage. Your inner walls twitch around Arthur’s length and this time, he doesn’t hold back either. 

His eyes fly open and lock onto yours as you both climax together. It’s vulnerable and strange, but perhaps more connected than you ever thought possible for two people to be. 

Arthur’s cock twitches inside you, pumping out his spend as he groans viscerally, completely losing control of his rhythm as he thrusts into you one last time, harsh and deep. You’ve never experienced this before, with Arthur or any other man, normally erring on the side of caution when it came to such matters, but even as you come down you can’t bring yourself to regret it. Whatever you and Arthur just experienced together felt spiritual, and worth much more than a little risk.

Arthur collapses, even as depleted as he is still considerate enough to collapse onto his elbows and not crush you. He slides out of you, earning a little wince, and rolls to the side so you can rest your head on his chest. It’s like a locket that’s been ripped apart, finally fixed together with the most satisfying click. 

═══════☆═══════

Two months later, life has returned to its equilibrium. You and Arthur are perhaps clingier, still in a sort of second honeymoon phase where you just can’t seem to keep your hands off each other, more so than usual. It’s a side effect of prolonged solitude, you’re sure.

The first time it happens, you blame Pearson and think nothing of it. It’s pretty early in the morning and you’re sitting with Tilly and Abigail, peeling potatoes for the stew tonight. Abigail is venting her frustrations about when John did this and John said that, and everything feels so normal. Pearson arrives, throwing a rather large, rather dead fish onto the table you’re leaning against and you feel the thud from the weight of it vibrate against your back. 

It isn’t until the smell invades your senses that everything starts to feel off. It smells exactly like all the other fish Pearson has ever slammed onto that poor table, which doesn’t explain why you immediately lurch forwards, grabbing an empty bucket and throwing up your breakfast. The fish stench is suffocating and all you can do is get the hell away from it, not noticing when Abigail’s brows knit together almost… knowingly?

You skip the stew that night. 

―

The second time it happens, you try not to think about it. You’re riding Diesel and almost don’t make it off him in time. There is nothing to set you off, no horse shit or rotting animal at the side of the road, and yet in an instant your stomach feels like it has been flipped upside down. 

The sheer volume of your retching catches Arthur’s attention and he tugs on the leather reins in his hands to steady his mare. 

“Darlin’? Y’alright?” 

His concern is evident in his tone and in the tight line between his brows, which deepens when he finds you unable to respond in anything but a frantic nod. He dismounts, spurs clicking against the dusty ground when he approaches you. 

“Oh, sweetheart… that’s it, easy, easy… you’re okay…”

You feel gentle circles rubbed into the tense muscles of your back as you try to get through this again. It’s not lost on you that Arthur is speaking to you like a spooked horse, but it actually really does help. (You decide to prioritise peace of mind and not psychoanalyse why that is). Eventually, it relents and you regain your composure, albeit somewhat less gracefully than you’d have liked. 

“Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into me, maybe I ate somethin’.”

Your apology for something you can’t help earns you a sad smile from your husband, who places a loving kiss on the top of your head before reaching for your discarded hat and putting it back on for you.

“Y’don’t gotta apologise. I gotcha, darlin’.”

You know he does.

He always does.

―

The third time it happens, the luxury of denial is stolen from you. It’s early enough that your view while you sit with Abigail drinking coffee involves glorious hues of orange and pink scattered around the rising sun. It’s peaceful, tranquil. The warmth of the little metal mug in your hands and Arthur’s jacket around your shoulders is enough to ward off the fresh morning chill in the air.

There is absolutely no warning when it hits, when it happens again. You’re so goddamn sick (no pun intended) of hurling. Your eyes water and your throat hurts a little and you curse under your breath when it’s over. Abi is beside you, rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. She waits until it’s over before speaking hesitantly.

“Uh, can I ask you somethin’?” 

You nod, eyes still red and glistening as you swirl coffee around your mouth to take away from the awful, acidic taste lingering. 

“When did you last bleed?”

“What, like an injury? Uh, I cut my hand couple days back, but I don’t see what-“

… Oh fuck. 

═══════☆═══════

The anxiety bounces around your body and you decide that you’ve become far too acquainted with the concept of nausea. You can actually tell the difference between nerves  twisting your stomach and… well, let’s say it as it is:  morning sickness. This is the former, you deduce, spinning both your engagement and wedding ring around your finger to give your hands something better to do than carve fingernail-shaped moons into your palm. He should be home any minute now. Any minute now and it will all change forever.

It’s quite late, but the poker game Arthur was scoping out for potential jobs is known to last a while. You’re the only one still awake, poking the embers of the campfire to keep yourself as comfortable as possible. 

You hear hooves hitting dry dirt first, and it seems to trigger your fight or flight response. God, you’d love to run away from this, but that is pretty much impossible, so fight it is. It’ll be the greatest fight of your life, you’ll soon learn, one you’re privileged to be a part of. But right now, it feels like an all-consuming unknown. 

Arthur can tell something is wrong the second he sees you. You’re terrible at hiding things, especially from him. He always reads you as though you have a poster advertising your feelings printed on your forehead. Arthur dismounts, kissing you tenderly on the temple and wrapping his arms around you.

“What’re you still doin’ up, darlin’? Is everything alright?” You can feel his worry vibrating in his chest as you nuzzle into his embrace. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just… Can we talk? I kept the fire goin’.” You say it into his shirt, reluctant to move from this hold.

“Of course…” there’s something in his voice, a tense apprehension that really doesn’t help the knot contorting itself in your gut. 

While you’re more than capable of keeping a fire going, Arthur is an expert, and has it healthily burning within seconds of you sitting down on the overturned log the gang has fashioned into a bench. You’re back to spinning your beautiful gold bands around your finger, trying to remember to breathe in and out every so often.

“What’s goin’ on, sweetheart?” His voice is so soft, so kind that it makes you want to cry. But you promised yourself you wouldn’t until you’d told him, because this might just be the most important conversation you’ve ever had, and you definitely won’t get through it if you’re a blubbering mess.

“I, uh… I… somethin’s happened.”

You hear his breath hitch in his throat and Arthur leans towards you, completely enveloping your hands in his. They’re sandwiched in now and you can’t fiddle with your rings anymore.

“What? What happened? Was it Micah? If he’s said somethin’ to you, I’ll kill him, the rat bastard-”

“No, no, it’s… as much as I’d love to see that, it’s not him.” 

The tension releases. Just a little bit.

“I’m pregnant.” 

Oh wait, there it is. 

The silence is deafening, even though you’re almost certain it isn’t actually silent out here right now. There's a fire going and crickets are just metres away, you’re just shutting down with nerves. 

The normally so often tense, fluttering jaw of Arthur Morgan is slack, his eyes wide and gaping at you, occasionally flicking down to your so far bump-less belly. (You should know- you’ve been obsessively looking in a mirror any chance you get for some sort of sign that this is really happening). 

Say something. Please say something. Please don’t be angry. Oh, God please don’t hate me. 

“I-I… You’re pregnant?” He repeats, reassuring you that you haven’t actually gone deaf, though his tone holds no indication of anything but shock. That’s probably fair…

You nod, hands instinctively reaching over your belly. It feels… weird. Holding your hands over your baby. Yours and Arthur’s baby. 

“It happened a couple months back, when you got back from The Grizzlies, I think… I-I’m sorry, Arthur. I shoulda’ been more careful and-and…” You’re rambling, filling a silence that probably should just be allowed to be a silence.

“There… There’s gonna be a baby?”

There. Right there, adorning Arthur’s beautiful features, is the pull of a smile. It chokes you up instantly, so far deep in nightmares of arguments and unhappiness that you hadn’t even considered the good. You start to nod, a little bit of your fringe falling in your face.

“Yeah… There’s gonna be a baby. Our baby…”

“Our baby…” He repeats, his arm raising to brush the hair away from your eyes in such a natural manner it feels like it’s just his instinct to care for you. It is his instinct to care for you, Arthur has shown you that in every minute of every day of your marriage, and suddenly you’re not sure why you’ve been so scared. 

“I’m gonna be a dad?” He still seems in disbelief, but that’s normal. It’s taken you a few days to come to terms with it, and even then the fingernail marks in your palms are still red raw. 

“You’re gonna be a dad.”

It hits him. Really hits him and he all but throws himself into you, scooping you up and spinning you around as he laughs unreservedly.

“Well goddamn, I’m gonna be a Daddy!” 

You laugh with him, worries and anxiety a distant memory as your feet swing around in the air. You’re probably waking the camp up, but you don’t care all that much. Right now, you’re the happiest girl in the world.

A baby. There’s gonna be a baby. Arthur’s baby.

Really, it’s the greatest gift a cowgirl could ask for.

[a-pintobean]

I saw a man so beautiful I started crying?

IWTV has permanently altered my brain chemistry & Lestat has been living in my head rent free. I had been sitting on the idea of making my own pins for a while now, and as a theatre kid myself, I thought THE ✨Harlequin Lestat✨would be absolutely perfect to start with on my pin making adventures!

Art was commissioned from the amazingly talented @flaxig on instagram

Pin will be 3” with Hard Enamel, Gold Plating, UV Print, Pearl (No swirl), and Transparent effects.

LE25

This is the approved art and is currently in production!The colors seen here will vary slightly from the actual finished pin!

More details will be announced once pin is near completion!

More IWTV art & pins will be coming soon too!

Let me know what you guys think and any ideas you might have for future pins as well!

Thank you for reading! Shares and likes are much appreciated! I can’t wait to share with you all my ideas for upcoming pins 😭❤️ More info will be shared on ig @starlight_pins_

[smilingformoney]

For the Love of Books | Sinclair x OC

XII. Forgiveness and Love

Summary: The truth finally comes out - but Sinclair's got some work to do before he and Betty can move forward.

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Despite Lionel’s very unsubtle attempts to set her up on dates, Betty was still nowhere near ready to date again – not least because she barely had time. Between managing the shop, looking after Goldie, looking after herself, housework and being dragged by Lionel from art exhibitions to charity galas to opening nights at the theatre, Betty had hardly any time to think about dating, let alone find time to actually do it.

But the other reason was, she just didn’t know how to shake Sinclair from her head. Everything reminded her of him, particularly the ever-growing golden retriever who she was now solely responsible for. Although Sinclair had seemed eager to visit Goldie, the call never came, and Betty suspected Natalie was to blame.

Knowing that Natalie was due to pop any moment, Betty braced herself every time she saw Lionel for the news that the baby had come, but if it had he kept mum.

The news came finally on a Friday night; Betty was just putting the dishwasher on after dinner when she heard the doorbell chime.

Goldie immediately began barking, running to the door to protect her from the stranger, and Betty had to coax him into the living room and shut the door before she could attend to her visitor.

On her doorstep was a sad, wet puppy, soaked from the summer storm raging overhead.

“What are you —? Get inside, you numpty!”

Betty grabbed Sinclair’s arm and pulled him inside, quickly closing the door behind him so he could shiver on her carpet.

“Th - thanks,” Sinclair said through chattering teeth. “That rain came out of nowhere!”

“Look at you, you’re soaked!” Betty admonished him as she poked at his clothes, which looked like they’d just been sat in a full bathtub. “There’s towels in the bathroom, go get yourself dried off. I think I have something you can wear. Then you can tell me what you’re doing here.”

Soon enough, Sinclair was mostly dry, although his hair was still damp, and he was wearing the pyjamas he’d kept in a drawer at her flat… before. Goldie was ecstatic to see his dad again, and despite everything, when Betty entered the living room with a cup of tea for Sinclair, her heart warmed to see her two puppies reunited.

Sinclair thanked Betty for the tea, although with Goldie on his lap he had little space to hold it, but the pup soon calmed down enough to settle on his dad’s lap while Sinclair held the warm mug like it was his life source.

“I really like your house, Betty,” Sinclair said, his eyes darting around as they always did in a new place, as if he needed to absorb every detail of it. “It’s cozy. Very you.”

Betty sat down at the opposite end of the sofa, her legs tucked underneath her. Spoiled for choice, Goldie decided to settle between them, his head on Sinclair’s lap and his bum curled up against Betty’s thigh.

“Thanks. I got it with the money Lionel paid me for the shop.”

“Yes, how is the shop going? If Lionel gives you any trouble…”

“He’s been nothing but good to me. But I don’t think you came here to talk about Lionel, or the shop.”

Sinclair bowed his head sadly.

“Um, no. I came here because… I didn’t know where else to go. I don’t want to go home right now. I thought about going to the office and getting some work done but I don’t think I could focus. I needed somewhere I feel… safe. And so I thought of you. I’ve always felt safe with you, Betty. I think that’s what drew me to you from the day we met. You’re my safe place.”

He gazed into his tea thoughtfully.

“Why do you need a safe place right now, Sinclair?” Betty asked softly.

“Natalie had the baby,” Sinclair said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “The doctors said he has, um, carma cramlica. Which only occurs when…”

He hesitated.

“The parents are siblings,” Betty finished for him.

“…Yeah.”

Sinclair closed his eyes and shook his head.

“God, Betty, I am so sorry. I’ve been such an idiot. To think I - I broke your heart because I was stupid enough to believe her. I’m not… I’m not asking for you to forgive me, or take me back, or to ever see me again. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d left me out in the rain. But I… I needed to see you. I needed to say I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her at last, his puppy dog eyes brimming with tears.

“I am so, so sorry, Betty.”

There was a long pause, the silence broken only by Goldie’s tail wagging excitedly, apparently oblivious to the tension between his parents.

“Losing you killed me, Clair,” Betty said quietly, her hands busying themselves with stroking Goldie’s back. “It killed me over and over again. Every time I woke up alone, every time I ate lunch alone, every time something reminded me of you. My heart broke every day. But still, every day I had to get out of bed, I had to eat, I had to keep living. Alone, like I’ve always done. But this time it hurt.”

“But you’re not alone, you have Goldie! And Lionel, he’s clearly been a good friend to you.”

“That’s not the same, Sinclair. Goldie’s a dog, he’s not you . And Lionel - he is a good friend. But he’s still not you. I wanted you. I fell in love with you. Your dog, your cousin - they’re wonderful, but they’re still remnants of you. You haunt me, Sinclair.”

“I never meant to haunt you.”

“I know.”

“Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Betty sighed, closing her eyes as she tried not to cry.

“Sinclair, why are you here? Do you want me back?”

“Yes! I - well… yes, of course I want you back. And if you turn me away, I’ll want you back until the day I die. But that’s not why I came. I came because you’re the only thing that’s right in this world, the only person I can trust. I’m not asking you to get back together with me, Betty. I know I don’t deserve it, and if you hate me, I understand. I just need your company, just for tonight. Please.”

Betty laughed incredulously, her eyes still brimming with tears.

“I don’t hate you, Sinclair! How can I? I love you. That’s why it hurts so much. That’s why I let you in without question, why we’re sitting here now. Because I need you tonight as much as you need me.”

She sighed.

“But… I think you should leave.”

The disappointment on Sinclair’s face couldn’t have been more obvious.

“…Oh.”

“You hurt me, Sinclair. Really hurt me. I can’t just forgive you like that —”

“I’m not asking you to!”

“Then don’t ask me to comfort you because your wife cheated on you again. I just - I need time, okay? And so you do. You can’t keep jumping from relationship to relationship. Do you even know who you are without a girlfriend or a wife?”

Sinclair looked hurt, but he couldn’t argue, because she was right and they both knew it. Before Natalie there was Laura, before Laura there was Amiee, before Amiee there was Alex, before Alex there was Emily… he’d hardly ever spent more than a few weeks single before jumping into another relationship. Truthfully, that was partly why he’d married Natalie - because everyone told him he had to settle down eventually, so he did. He hadn’t considered that he wasn’t settling down with Natalie - he was settling for her. He had no idea that he’d meet the love of his life two years later.

“I… I still want you in my life, Betty,” Sinclair said, his voice almost a whisper. “But I know - I know we can’t go back to being just friends. How can we, when we both know I still love you?”

Goldie contributed to the conversation with a fart.

Betty snorted with laughter, and Sinclair laughed too, the tears in his eyes disguising themselves as tears of laughter.

“I really missed you, Goldie,” Sinclair said, scratching the dog behind his ear. Goldie panted happily.

“Do you want him back?” Betty asked. “Now that Natalie’s gone?”

Sinclair looked up at her, wide-eyed. “No, he’s yours! I mean - I would like to see him, if that’s okay. I know we talked about visitation before but…”

“Natalie wouldn’t let you, I know. Of course you can visit him. Maybe you could come by after work on a Friday and take him out for a walk?”

Sinclair’s eyes lit up again. “Yes, I’d love to! I miss bringing him on my morning runs. Maybe I’ll take him on a run around Hyde Park, then I get to spend time with him and get an extra run in! What do you think, Goldie?”

Goldie wagged his tail. Sinclair grinned, then remembered his situation, and his heart sank.

“I don’t want to go back home tonight,” he sighed. “She’s still in hospital, but I don’t know if she’ll be discharged tonight. Although I’d hope she’ll stay with Richard if she does…”

“Why don’t you stay with Lionel?”

“Hmm, maybe…”

Sinclair was clearly struck with indecision, so Betty decided for him and stood to pick up the phone that sat on the wall. She pressed the speed-dial button for Lionel’s office; when there was no answer, she tried his London home, hoping he hadn’t gone to his country home for the weekend.

“Lionel Shabandar speaking.”

“Hello Lionel Shabandar speaking, it’s Elizabeth Bennett speaking.”

“Ah, Elizabeth Bennett speaking, wonderful to hear your voice. Looking forward to the exhibition tomorrow?”

“The —? Oh, right, yes. Look, Sinclair’s here and he needs a place to stay tonight. Can he stay with you?”

“Sinclair’s with you is he?” Lionel asked, clearly scandalised. “Well, you have a bed, don’t you? A lovely double bed for two people to cozy up in. Unless you’re planning on fucking in my guest room?”

“Lionel, shut up, it’s not like that.”

Betty glanced at Sinclair, who was watching her nervously from his seat on the sofa, still scratching Goldie’s ear.

“I’ll let him explain. Just - let him stay tonight. Please?”

“Oh, alright. I suppose it’s my brotherly duty, isn’t it? But I want full details from him, and don’t think I won’t be grilling you tomorrow too. I have methods for getting information out of people, you know.”

“If by ‘methods’ you mean getting people drunk, then yes, I’ve experienced that firsthand. Thanks, Lionel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow it is. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Betty hung up the phone, then walked back over to the sofa to scoot Goldie off Sinclair’s lap.

“Come on, you, let dad up so he can go.”

Betty waited for Sinclair to stand up, but he sat there glumly before looking up at her with those big, sad eyes.

“You have Lionel’s number on speed dial.”

“Yes, because he’s my boss and my friend. Come on, Sinclair, I need to go to bed too. Are you okay to drive?”

Sinclair nodded, then pushed himself to his feet. Goldie spun around excitedly, thinking daddy was taking him on a walk, and barked his protestations when Betty shut him in the living room as she saw Sinclair out.

“I’ll see you next Friday, then,” Betty said. “You can pick him up around six, I’ll be back by then.”

“Alright. I —”

Sinclair hesitated, his words caught in his mouth.

“Thank you,” he said at last, and Betty watched him go as he stepped back into the pouring rain to drive away.

When Sinclair arrived at Lionel’s high rise apartment, he had during the relatively short drive over ran every possible scenario through his head, naturally coming to the worst conclusion - that he’d lost Betty forever.

But who could blame her? He’d not want anything to do with him either, not after the misery he’d caused her.

Sinclair entered his cousin’s apartment with a dark cloud looming over his head, and Lionel knew immediately that something was very wrong. They’d known each other their entire lives, and Lionel could probably count on one hand the amount of times Sinclair had let him see him sad.

He took one look at his cousin’s face, announced it was time for the emergency wine, and retrieved from the kitchen the 1973 Chateau Montelena Chardonnay he’d been saving for just the right moment. He brought the bottle and two glasses into the living room and poured a glass for each of them.

Sinclair just sat there glumly.

“Come on, spill,” Lionel demanded. “What happened?”

Sinclair sighed and sank back into the sofa.

“Natalie had the baby. And it’s not mine.”

“Well, I could have told you that,” Lionel said with a shrug.

Sinclair shot his cousin a dark look. “You did tell me that. I just thought you were being a prat.”

“So are you done with her for good this time?”

“Yeah, she - she agreed not to contest the divorce if I don’t tell anyone that Richard’s the father.”

“And how does that lead to Betty calling me asking me to put you up for the night?”

“I - I went straight to hers. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t even think about it, I just… needed somewhere I felt safe. And I ended up on her doorstep.” Sinclair sighed. “God, she was so kind to me. I was going to ask if I could stay the night - just on the sofa - but she asked me to leave. Which I completely get – just because I realised how much of an idiot I’ve been, doesn’t mean she doesn’t hate me for it. And I was such an idiot! I thought I was doing the right thing, and now look at me. I’m all alone.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Sinclair’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile.

“I mean it, Sinclair,” Lionel said firmly. “I know I never say it, because I’m terrible at these things, but I am here for you. We’re genetically brothers, as you love to remind me, so as your brother I have no qualms in telling you to stop convincing yourself that Betty hates you. She’s madly in love with you. You know, I tried to set her up with some very impressive friends of mine, but she wasn’t interested. She was too hung up on you.”

Sinclair sniffed and wiped a tear from his eye.

“Did you really not sleep with her?”

“This again,” Lionel muttered with frustration. “No, I did not sleep with her, Sinclair. I suggested it, she said no, that was the end of it. I understand what you see in her, but we really are only friends. In fact, aside from you, she may well be my best friend. So I’d really like it if you two could stop pining over each other and just fuck already because it’s driving me insane.”

Sinclair shook his head. “No, she - she said she can’t forgive me. She needs time. And I’ll give her all the time she needs. If I have to wait forever for her, I will. And if she never forgives me…”

A tear rolled down his cheek as he contemplated the thought of it.

”…then so be it. Because I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself.”

---

The next few months were some of the hardest in Sinclair’s life.

Natalie kept her word and signed the divorce papers without fuss, agreeing to a clean break with no demands for maintenance. When they met up in the solicitor’s office a month after the birth to sign the papers, she brought the baby with her. His name was Peter, she told him, and although his condition left him with some physical abnormalities, he was overall a healthy boy. She brought the birth certificate to prove that she’d listed no one as the father, leaving her the only one with responsibility for him. Between that and the divorce finally settled, Sinclair felt oddly empty to know he no longer had any links to her or the baby.

They said an awkward goodbye afterwards, and she drove away.

Two weeks later, Sinclair received a postcard from Amsterdam. Richard had been offered a job there and they’d had to move quickly.

With Natalie out of the picture, Sinclair felt a sense of relief, and he admitted as such to his therapist. A few days after the birth, he’d called the same therapist he’d seen with Natalie, and she was happy to see him on a one-to-one basis.

He almost didn’t go back after the first session. It was difficult, telling her everything - even about Richard and Natalie - and he left feeling more exposed than ever. But the therapist promised it would get better, that they had to expose the wounds for them to heal, and week by week, it did get better.

He was beginning to understand himself, something he’d never stopped to think to do, and after the third session, the therapist asked if she could speak to Lionel on the phone, then sent him home with a list of questions to consider. He didn’t really understand why she was asking them or why she wanted to talk to Lionel until his next session, when another doctor sat in and asked him some more questions. He’d read Sinclair’s answers, read the notes from the call with Lionel, and after meeting him, the doctor came to a conclusion and sent Sinclair away with some pamphlets.

Sinclair felt guilty going to a bookshop other than Betty’s, but he didn’t want her to see him buying books on ADHD. Not that he was ashamed - the more he read about it, the more it made complete sense. But he wanted to understand it himself before he asked her to understand it.

The best part of Sinclair’s week was always Friday after work, because he got to see her. He also got to see Goldie, who he’d missed almost as much as he missed Betty, and taking him out for a walk was his favourite thing to do.

Three weeks after his diagnosis, Sinclair asked Betty if she’d like to join them on their walk.

He expected her to make an excuse, or to just plain say no - she was direct like that, and he loved that about her.

What he didn’t expect was for her face to light up and her coat to be in her hands before he’d even finished his sentence.

“It’s funny, I was gonna ask you if I could come today,” Betty said as she closed the door behind her, having to speak up to be heard over Goldie’s excited barking when he realised he was getting a walk with mummy and daddy. Betty put her hands in her coat pockets, partly to warm them from the chilly autumn air, and partly to stop herself from instinctively taking Sinclair’s hand.

“You can come with us any time! I’m sure Goldie’ll love it. It’s been ages since we last walked him together, do you think he even remembers it?”

“We walked him together once, when he was still a puppy,” Betty reminded him. “I doubt he remembers it. I do, though, it was… it was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Sinclair said, blushing when he remembered it was the morning after their first time.

“I’d like to come with you more, if that’s okay.”

“Yes!” Sinclair nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course it’s okay! Look how happy it makes him!”

Sure enough, Goldie was barking happily even more than usual, and Sinclair had to keep tugging on the lead to stop him jumping into the road.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, both unsure how to make conversation when their relationship was what it was.

“I’m seeing a therapist,” Sinclair blurted out.

“Oh! Oh, that’s - that’s good.”

“She’s been really helpful. It’s really hard sometimes, but… I’ve made a lot of progress. You know, understanding myself and that sort of thing.”

“Right.”

They passed through the gate to the park, and Goldie started bouncing happily, making it difficult for Sinclair to take the leash off his collar.

They watched him bound away into the park, barking excitedly as he greeted his doggy friends, and Betty laughed.

“He really is just like you.”

Sinclair smiled.

“Like father, like son. Hey, do you want to get an ice-cream? There’s this really nice stand over there - I’m sure you know this, you take him here more than I do - but I love their mint chocolate chip.”

“Sinclair, it’s freezing!” Betty laughed.

“It’s never too cold for ice-cream,” Sinclair said seriously.

“Oh, alright, only because their chocolate is amazing,” Betty conceded. “And I think they’re closing for winter soon.”

“Nooo! It’s even more important that we have some now! Come on, I’m paying, no arguments.”

Sinclair bounded over to the ice-cream stand, ordered a mint chocolate chip and a chocolate, and the two of them sat down on a bench in the 7 degree weather to eat their ice-creams.

“How’s things with the shop?” Sinclair asked, mindful of his therapist’s advice to ask other people about their lives, and also genuinely curious how it was going since Lionel had bought it out.

“Really good, actually. Lionel was a godsend - don’t tell him I said that, though. But I’ve got staff now, some really lovely uni students, so I get a lot more time to spend doing the back office stuff. I’m making a decent wage, enough to support myself and Goldie, and Lionel says at the end of the year I’ll get a bonus based on the profits.”

“That’s amazing! You really deserve it, Betty. You’ve put so much into that place. I see it when I go to David’s for lunch, it looks so different than it did a year ago!”

“Crikey, has it been a year already?”

“Almost! It was the end of October when we met. I can’t believe it was only a year ago. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Betty smiled.

“Yeah, I think that sometimes. Even though - even though we were only together for a few months… you changed my life.”

Sinclair looked down at Betty, butterflies erupting in his stomach as if they were on their first date all over again. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her he still loved her, to take her home and make love to her, to hold her close and never let her go.

Her hand moved towards his face, and he thought maybe she was about to cup his face and kiss him - but instead, her thumb wiped the end of his nose, and she giggled as she showed him the blob of green ice-cream.

“I think this is yours.”

“Hey, I was saving that for later! I guess you can have it now.”

“Eiw, no, I hate mint ice-cream. You have it.”

She moved her thumb towards his lips, but at the same time he moved his lips towards her thumb, and where he intended to simply lick the end of her thumb, he ended up taking her thumb into his mouth.

Instinctively, he closed his lips around her thumb and sucked, their eyes locked on one another, and Betty felt a tingle she hadn’t felt in a while as Sinclair’s amber eyes glowed with some intensity she’d only ever seen in him.

She withdrew her thumb from his mouth, blushing, and Sinclair realised suddenly what had just happened.

“Oh, god, sorry,” he apologised profusely. “I didn’t, um - I don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s okay,” Betty replied quietly. She looked up at him again, fighting the urge to kiss him. God, why did he have to be so irresistible?

With an excited bark, Goldie bounded up to them, as if he knew he needed to stop his parents before they did something stupid like admit they still loved each other.

“Oh my god, he’s done a shit,” Betty groaned, noticing the familiar stench of dog poop nearby. “Have you got the bags?”

“Yeah, I’ve got them here - hold this —”

The moment well and truly broken, Betty held both ice-creams in her hands as Sinclair dug out the poo bags to retrieve the remnants of Goldie’s dinner. The sun was beginning to set, so with a stranger’s shoe saved from stepping in something unpleasant, Sinclair and Betty finished their ice-creams as they led Goldie back out of the park, both of them silently pondering the moment that had just passed between them.

---

Betty came along on the next walk, and the next, and when she met Lionel at the National Portrait Gallery one evening for the unveiling of their latest exhibition, he immediately started questioning her.

“So I hear you’re dating Sinclair again,” he said by way of greeting as he approached her with drinks in hand.

“I - what - no I’m not!” Betty spluttered in protest. “We walk the dog we’re co-parenting once a week. We’re not dating.”

Lionel sighed. “Sinclair said that too. I was hoping you’d be more honest with me. So going for a walk in the park and eating sweets together isn’t a date?”

“No! Not in this context. I want to spend time with him and Goldie, that’s all. Why, what’s he been saying?”

“Oh, no, I’m not gonna be your go-between,” Lionel said firmly. “If you two want to communicate, you do it together, not through me. Frankly, I’m getting a little sick of the two of you and your pining. You’re clearly mad for each other, what’s stopping you?”

“You know what’s stopping me,” Betty said quietly.

“Well, I think you’re both complete morons. Now, can we focus on the art and not your self-inflicted heartache, please?”

“Hey, you brought him up!”

Lionel waved aside her protest and put a hand on her back to guide her to the first corridor of the exhibition.

“This way, there’s a Monet piece they’re showing down here I really want to buy…”

At some point in the evening, Lionel and Betty lost each other, but that was usual - Lionel got talking to someone, Betty wandered off, and they’d find each other again in the end. So when Betty ended up at the bar on her own, she wasn’t perturbed, and she bought herself a glass of wine while she waited for Lionel to catch up.

“And just what would a beautiful woman like you be doing here on her own?”

Betty looked up from the spot on the ground she’d been absentmindedly staring at when she heard an unfamiliar American drawl. The stranger was a little older than Lionel, and handsome too, with a moustache and a confident smirk on his face that said he was used to approaching strange women and was rarely told to piss off.

“I’m waiting for a friend. We got split up in the gallery. What are you doing here on your own?”

“Also waiting for a friend, though I’m hoping I’ve made an even better one.” He put his hand out to her. “Dr Eli Michaelson.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you. Betty Bennett.”

She went to shake his hand, but instead he took it softly and kissed the back of her hand. What was it with these uppity white men and kissing women’s hands when they met?

“You’ve heard of me, have you? Are you an enthusiast for chemistry?”

“No, Lionel told me about you,” Betty replied as she took her hand back. “He said you were visiting from the States and you’d meet him tonight.”

“Did he say anything else?” Eli asked with faux modesty.

“About you? No. But I suspect you can speak for yourself.”

“I sure can,” Eli said proudly, his back straightening slightly. “I’m a scientist; some might say a renowned scientist. I specialise in chemistry, of… all types.”

Eli’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Betty suddenly became very aware that he had very little concept of personal space as he leant against the wall next to her.

“Do you know much about chemistry, Betty?”

“I was never much for science at school,” Betty admitted. “I much preferred English and Humanities.”

“Is that so? Well, when I’m not researching, I’m also a chemistry professor. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two?”

Betty gulped and glanced around. A few people were milling about, but none were paying them any attention. Where the hell was Lionel?!

“Thanks, I - I think I’m good.”

Eli looked her up and down, not even trying to hide the fact that he was checking her out.

“Something tells me you’d be a quick learner. C’mon, what d’ya say we ditch Lionel? I can teach you more than you ever imagined in one night, and you’d still have only scratched the surface of my… expertise .”

Betty was frozen to the spot. She had no idea what to do or say to get herself out of this. He was taller than her, almost definitely stronger, and if she made a scene she knew from experience she’d be the one getting kicked out.

“I’m sorry, I have to go and find Lionel,” she mumbled, ducking under Eli’s arm to quickly scurry away back into the gallery, leaving her half-drunk glass of wine on a table.

She didn’t dare look back, worried Eli would follow her, but if he did then she didn’t hear him. She finally located Lionel in a room on his own, looking thoughtfully at a portrait of some king or another.

“Ah, there you are - what’s wrong?” Lionel turned to her, a frown forming on his face when he saw how uncomfortable she was.

“I met your American friend. You didn’t mention he’s a complete cad.”

Lionel sighed in frustration.

“I’m sorry. He’s the worst. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just - I needed an excuse to get away. Um, in fact, I might just go.”

“Are you sure? I can tell him to piss off instead. I’d much rather have you around.”

“No, it’s fine, honestly. Can I use your driver? I’ve had some wine.”

“Of course, let me just call him.”

Ten minutes later, Betty was in the back of Lionel’s Range Rover, wondering why the hell one of Lionel’s friends flirting with her was making her so uncomfortable. She’d gotten used to it, or so she thought - whenever she met another of his important friends, if Lionel didn’t try to set them up himself, they’d usually try and flirt with her anyway. At least, she supposed, they weren’t baulking when they saw her.

But this time it was different. It was as if, were she to accept Eli’s advances, she’d be breaking some sort of rule. Like it was cheating.

Which was preposterous - she was a free agent. She had no one to cheat on. She’d made it very clear to Sinclair that they were taking some time apart. Only that very evening she’d told Lionel that her weekly walks with Sinclair were not dates.

So why did she eagerly wait all week for them?

Betty was so lost in thought that she didn’t glance out the window the entire journey. When the car came to a stop, she absent-mindedly thanked Lionel’s driver, then climbed out of the car.

It wasn’t until she closed the door behind her that she peered through the darkness of the evening to see that she wasn’t at her house at all.

It was Sinclair’s.

“Oh, fuck you, Lionel!” Betty hissed.

And yet, she didn’t get back in the car. Instead, her feet carried her forward. She was cold, and like a moth to the flame she was drawn towards the warmth of the house, enticed by the thoughts of central heating, the fireplace, and Sinclair’s arms.

She rang the bell, but there was no answer. She could see a light on in Sinclair’s reading room. Maybe he knew it was her at the door and was ignoring her. Or maybe he was so wrapped up in a book he hadn’t even heard the bell. Or, quite likely knowing him, he was tucked up in bed and had forgotten to turn the lights out.

The driver had already driven away, so Betty had little choice but to go inside. She took the spare key from its hiding spot and let herself in, treading quietly so as not to wake Sinclair if he was asleep.

She slipped off her shoes and tip-toed to the reading room to find that, sure enough, Sinclair was splayed out on the sofa, mouth hanging open, and an open book laying face-down on his chest.

Betty smiled at the endearing sight. She saw the remnants of the takeout he’d ordered were still on the coffee table, so she gathered up the pizza boxes and consolidated the leftovers into one box to put in the fridge, then threw the rest in the bin. She wiped down the table, then picked up the book from his chest to mark his page and put it aside.

She paused, curious, looking at the cover of the book.

Adult ADHD and Navigating Relationships

She had no idea what ADHD was; was it some kind of condition that Sinclair had? She looked at the blurb on the back, which read:

For adults with Attention-Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, navigating relationships - whether romantic, family or friends - can be difficult. Our book is designed to help you and those you love to better understand your functioning and build healthy relationships.

“Attention-deficit” and “hyperactive” were certainly words Betty would use to describe Sinclair, but she wasn’t so sure about “disorder.” Still, if it was something his therapist had advised him to read, she certainly wasn’t qualified to question it.

She slipped the bookmark Sinclair had dropped on the floor into the page and closed the book. Although she was tempted to see what it said, she felt that might be a little too invasive.

“Betty?” Sinclair mumbled from the sofa, his eyes squinting against the light of the lamp he’d left on. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello, sleepyhead,” she said with a smile, placing the book down on the table and sitting on the sofa as Sinclair sat up. “I see you’re still falling asleep mid-book.”

“Just resting my eyes,” Sinclair replied with a yawn. He stretched, and when he lowered his arms, his hand instinctively fell on her knee. “I’ll do it more often if it means a beautiful woman will appear by my side.”

Betty blushed.

“I hope you don’t mind I let myself in…”

“Of course not. I’m so glad to see you — but, um, why are you here?”

“I, erm… I was at an art thing with Lionel. I wanted to go home early so he called his driver and apparently told him to take me here.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s desperate for us to get back together.”

“I know he is,” Sinclair replied cautiously, trying not to make it too obvious that he was desperate for the same thing. “But you can stay here anyway if you like. I’ll make up the guest room for you - or I’ll sleep in there and you can have my bed, I know you like the mattress.”

“No, Sinclair, you don’t have to do that —”

“I insist!” Sinclair said stubbornly, pouting a little to emphasise his point, and Betty fought back the urge to kiss his cute lips. “If you don’t, I’ll sleep on the sofa and no one will have the comfy bed.”

Of course, they could both sleep in the bed - they’d done it plenty of times before. Betty couldn’t stand the idea of sleeping in that bed with Sinclair in another room, as if she’d kicked him out. Sinclair was right, his mattress was amazing… and even comfier with his chest as a pillow.

She became suddenly aware that his hand was on her knee. She tentatively placed her hand over his, and when he glanced down, both of them surprised at the electricity of her touch, Betty leaned forward and connected her lips to his.

There was no hesitation, no surprise. They just melted into each other’s touch immediately, both so relieved to finally taste the other again after far too long. Sinclair placed his hands on Betty’s hips and lifted her side-saddle onto his lap before wrapping his arms around her torso to hold her close. He felt her tongue pressing against his lips and was more than happy to part them for her, allowing her to taste him again.

She wanted to straddle him, but her skirt was too tight, so she pulled it up around her waist to expose her legs and allow them to sit either side of his hips. Sinclair immediately reached for her exposed skin, hands grabbing at the flesh of her thighs as she released his lips to kiss his neck, teeth grazing at his skin, making him whine in that beautiful way she’d missed so much.

Sinclair wasn’t sure what had changed, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was too intoxicated by her, by her touch, her smell, the taste of her skin on his lips as he kissed whatever part of her head he was able to get access to as she mapped a trail along his neck, as if she were determined to leave him a chain of lovebites.

He could feel his cock growing between his legs, because how could it not when she was on top of him, both of them in their underwear from the waist down, leaving only two small pieces of fabric between them.

He wanted to be inside her, but the part of him that still screamed with guilt at the way he’d hurt her refused to let him. He didn’t deserve that, he didn’t deserve her — but she deserved everything she wanted, and he’d do anything to give it to her.

Sinclair reached between their bodies to push his hand under Betty’s underwear, and he let out a groan of desire when he ran his fingers through her hair, the hair he loved to bury himself in as he brought her pleasure any way he could.

“Please,” Betty gasped, speaking for the first time since their lips had connected. “Clair… I need you.”

“You have me,” he promised, his eyes burning into hers with a fierce amber glow.

He slipped a finger and then a second inside her, her wetness easily letting him past her entrance. God, she was dripping, and he could hardly believe it was all for him.

Betty grabbed onto Sinclair’s shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck with the other as he thrust his fingers inside her, reaching up to her sweet spot with practised ease. She pulled on his hair a little, knowing he liked it, and he let out a whine that sounded almost like her name.

As if his fingers weren’t enough, Sinclair pressed his thumb against her clit, circling it in rhythm with the thrust of his fingers, and Betty groaned hungrily.

“Oh, god, Clair… Clair, that feels so good…”

“I love you, Betty,” Sinclair blurted out, unable to keep it inside any longer. His heart was full with love for her, and his cock full of lust, and he knew one of them had to burst.

“I - I love you too, Sinclair,” Betty gasped between moans. “So - so much… I couldn’t resist you anymore…”

“I’m glad you didn’t, because I’ve been dying to touch you again. To kiss you - hold you - fill you up… I missed you so fucking much…”

“How about we both take that bed tonight?” Betty said mischievously.

“Mmm, yes, please…”

“Come on, then.”

Betty pulled away from him and stood up, adjusting her hitched-up skirt to fall down her legs again, looking as if she hadn’t just had Sinclair’s fingers inside her a moment ago - he, meanwhile, had the clear evidence of their escapades glistening on his fingers, not to mention the obvious erection underneath his boxers.

Eager to touch her again, Sinclair stood up and scooped her into his arms bridal-style, causing her to yelp with surprise.

“Hold me a little higher,” she giggled as he navigated around the sofa, and Sinclair obliged, lifting her up so her head was level with his.

“Wow, so this is what it’s like to be tall.”

Sinclair laughed.

“It does get dizzying. Mind your head.”

He turned slightly to the side to carry her through the doorway, then up the stairs to his bedroom, all the while trying not to get distracted by the way Betty was working on the lovebites she seemed determined to leave on his neck.

“Are you trying to eat me up?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes,” Betty replied as she nibbled on his collarbone. “Do you think your coworkers will notice?”

“Definitely.”

“Good.”

Sinclair laughed as Betty continued feasting on him, and when he leant down to lower her onto the bed, she kept a firm grip on his shoulders and pulled him down with her. They both fell onto the bed, giggling, and Betty felt a sense of relief wash over her as she sank into Sinclair’s mattress, with Sinclair on top of her, both of them battling to give each other the most neck kisses.

“Nooo, come back,” Betty whined as Sinclair kissed his way past her collarbone and down her partly-exposed chest, but he just looked up at her and grinned mischievously.

“You’ll like what I have in mind,” he promised.

He pulled down her knickers as he moved down her body, tossed them aside, then settled into his favourite position: kneeling between her legs, face between her thighs, his tongue lapping up her heavenly taste.

“Sinclair…”

God, he’d missed this. The taste of her arousal, the sound of her moans, the feeling of her thighs twitching against him with each flick of his tongue. All he wanted to do was to please her, to give her everything she wanted — and, for reasons he couldn’t understand, she still wanted him.

And boy, did he want her. His boxers were bursting at the seams trying to contain his throbbing cock, and each time he adjusted his position slightly, just the slightest bit of friction threatened to set him off. But he ignored it, focusing entirely on her.

He could honestly stay there for hours between her legs, feasting on his favourite snack, but after he’d elicited a third orgasm from her, she called for a timeout.

“I was enjoying that,” Sinclair whined teasingly, although of course he pulled away as soon as she asked him to.

“Me too,” Betty panted, her breaths heavy and her skin slick with sweat. “Just… just need a break.”

“Of course, darling.”

Sinclair wriggled back up the bed to lay next to her, and although he was much taller than her, he naturally curled into her, resting his head on her shoulder as she absent-mindedly played with his hair.

“Betty?” Sinclair mumbled after a few minutes.

“Hm?”

“I just want to be clear. Are we - is this - um…”

He looked up at her, eyes wide.

“Does this mean I get to be your boyfriend again?”

Betty laughed. If she didn’t know Sinclair so well, she might have been offended at the suggestion that this could be anything casual.

“So long as you promise not to go back to your wife again,” she said, half-joking.

Sinclair propped himself up on his elbow and nodded sincerely.

“I promise. There’s no one else for me, Betty. There never will be. I regretted what I did as soon as I did it. But I… I really thought I was doing the right thing. I know now that even if the baby was mine… better to be raised by happy divorced parents than miserable married ones.”

“Finally, he admits it!” Betty cheered. “Took you long enough.”

Sinclair glanced away, embarrassed.

“I know. I’m sorry. For all of it. For leaving you, for believing her… for dumping Goldie on you without even asking. And I’m sorry I was so suspicious of you and Lionel. I broke your heart and he helped you put your life back together, and I paid you both back by making my own jealousy your problem. You’ve done so well without me, Betty. I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. I - I want you to know that. Whatever becomes of us… I’m so, so proud of you.”

Betty smiled and reached up to stroke his cheek. He smiled and melted into her touch.

“Clair… all I ever wanted was to be enough for you.”

“You’re everything to me,” Sinclair confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just hope I can be good enough for you. I’ll do anything for you, Betty. I love you.”

“Make love to me, Sinclair,” Betty begged. “Show me just how you feel.”

Sinclair whined with desire, his still very much erect cock twitching with the need to be inside her.

“I don’t have any condoms left,” he admitted. “We ran out last time you were here and…”

“You’ve not - you and Natalie never —?”

He shook his head.

“Not since you. Have you —?”

“No. There’s no one else for me, Sinclair, you know that. And I - I trust you. If you say you’re clean…”

His eyes widened.

“I am, but… what about —? I won’t last long, Betty, I don’t know if I can pull out in time…”

“I’m still on the pill. I trust you, Clair… but only if you want to…”

“I do! God, yes - yes, I do!”

He fumbled with his boxers, eager to get them off, and Betty pulled her dress over her head, both of them laughing as they fumbled with their clothes.

“Look at you, Clair, you’re fit to burst,” Betty teased, taking a gentle hold of his cock to feel its hardness in her hand. “Is that all for me?”

“Yes, all for you… fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, Betty…”

“Then show me.”

She guided him to her entrance, and when he pushed forward, the remnants of her three orgasms combined with the precum he was leaking for her let him slide into her with ease.

Betty let out some garbled sound that might have been words, or maybe it was just a groan - she didn’t even know herself. All she knew was that the feeling of Sinclair’s raw cock sliding up her walls was beyond anything she could have imagined, so much better and more intimate without a condom between them, and the room was filled with the sound of both of them moaning with pleasure as they savoured the feeling of one another with no barriers, no tension, no guilt and no anger. It was her, and him, and nothing but the love they had for each other.

“I love you, Betty,” Sinclair murmured in her ear. “I’ll say it again and again until I’ve made it up to you. I love you, I love you, I love you…”

Betty wrapped her arms around his shoulders and embraced him, holding him as tight as she could, kisses ghosting the side of his head as she savoured the feeling of him, his smell, his presence… the love that radiated from them both as their hearts overflowed.

“I forgive you,” Betty said softly.

Sinclair let out a sob. His body shuddered, and he buried his head in her neck, ashamed to let her see a tear fall from his eye.

They rolled over so smoothly, neither of them could really say who instigated the movement, but their hips stayed connected, and with Sinclair on his back, Betty sat up and smiled as she looked down on him.

“You’ve been through enough, Sinclair. Let me take care of you.”

The tears rolling down his cheeks did nothing to put her off. As she gently moved her hips, slowly so as not to overwhelm him or make him finish too soon, Betty took Sinclair’s hand in hers, their fingers intertwining as she rocked her hips back and forth with small, precise movements. Neither of them chased their orgasm; they both knew they could do that any time. But being together here and now, sharing the connection they had — it was something neither of them had thought they would ever have again, and they weren’t about to rush it.

When he could sense she was getting tired, Sinclair gently moved Betty onto her back, and he took over thrusting. She knew just how to angle her hips to drive him crazy, and when she wiggled her hips beneath him just right, Sinclair knew he wouldn’t last long.

“I - I’m so close, Betty,” Sinclair groaned, his voice hoarse. “Where…?”

“Inside,” Betty replied with a high-pitched whine to her voice Sinclair had never heard before. “I trust you, Sinclair. Please… I want all of you…”

“I’m yours,” Sinclair promised, and as he let his peak wash over him, Betty felt him twitching inside her as he filled her up, his seed filling her just as much as his love did. He mumbled something that sounded like her name, and when he collapsed on top of her, she wanted nothing more than to hold him close forever and never let him go.

For a few moments, that’s what she did, both of them breathing heavily as they recovered, and once they’d begun to cool down from the exertion, Sinclair reluctantly unstuck himself and rolled off of her.

“You need to —”

“— use the toilet. I know.”

The diligent way he always ensured she avoided infection was nothing short of adorable. Betty went to the bathroom, and when she sat down to pee, she saw not just her urine but his seed too, and she gave it a little push to be sure. She took the pill every day, and Sinclair could probably tell her the exact percentage chance of her getting pregnant while taking it, but she couldn’t be too careful.

Strangely, although the idea of a man finishing inside her had always filled her with dread, she felt nothing of the sort. She’d wanted Sinclair to finish inside her - begged him to. And while her feelings on pregnancy hadn’t changed, she trusted Sinclair implicitly. So long as she stayed on the pill, she’d happily let him fill her up again and again.

Betty emerged from the bathroom after taking a quick shower to wash off the sweat, and to her disappointment Sinclair was gone - but on the bed was a set of pyjamas she used to keep in a drawer and, apparently, still did. Her heart leapt at the thought that he’d kept her stuff; it made her feel a little better about the fact she’d kept his.

Sinclair backed into the room holding a tray, and Betty quickly finished pulling her bonnet over her hair before rushing to his side to help him.

“Thanks,” Sinclair said as Betty took the jug of water from the tray and placed it on the dresser. Of course he’d gone to fetch some water for them - as well as his book and some snacks.

“I see you kept my nightie,” Betty said teasingly.

Sinclair blushed as he went to pour some water.

“I couldn’t bring myself to open your drawer. I guess part of me hoped you’d need it again one day… but I knew if I opened it, I’d have no reason to leave it there. So I didn’t touch it. Here, make sure you drink some water. I brought snacks, too, if you’re hungry.”

“You’re too good to me, Sinclair,” Betty chuckled before popping a grape in her mouth. “I missed our after-sex snacks. Somehow food always tastes better after sex.”

“We’ve worked up an appetite!” Sinclair said happily through a mouthful of grapes. “I forgot how exhausting it is.”

“Hmm, and after-sex cuddles, I missed them too.”

Sinclair nodded in agreement, his mouth still full of grapes, and he took her hand to lead her back to the bed.

He swallowed, then said, “Do you mind if I read my book for a bit?”

“Of course not. So long as you don’t mind if I cuddle up to you while you read it.”

“Definitely not!”

Sinclair put an arm around Betty as she got herself into a comfortable position, her head on the pillow and an arm over his waist as he sat up and reached for his book.

“Just one chapter,” he promised.

“As much as you want, babe,” Betty replied sleepily, her eyelids already drooping, and she was asleep before Sinclair had even finished a page.

[chaithetics]

Lessons in History

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f reader Word count: 2.8K Gif by @tomcriuse Warnings: fluff, reader had no physical description but she/her pronouns are used, flowers, some history, colonisation & discrimination mention (not graphic), not beta/proof read except for sending the first 3 paragraphs to @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist! A/N: This was written for @morallyinept's flora and fauna challenge for the month of May, green carnations are mentioned here but the real focus is on the Faqqu'a iris! I hope you all enjoy this and maybe learn a fun floral fact as well! The mentioned pieces of art are imagined and I didn't put in any artist names because I couldn't think of any, oops! Title was inspired from 'Lessons in Chemistry' because of name vibes, haven't read or seen it lol! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 🫶 @mittos may you get to the botans soon bestie x

Javi Gutierrez was nothing if not a patron of the arts. He was the biggest cinephile in all of Spain, he had the film memorabilia and Letterboxd account to prove it. Letterboxd had contacted him several months ago to let him know that he had logged the most rewatches of Face/Off than any other member, by a lot... He’d been enchanted by the theatre from a young age, he had an ever-growing collection of visual media, and he was a critically acclaimed screenwriter and producer. It’s why he was at this pop-up exhibition a History in Flora. Of course, it didn’t hurt that the curator and gallery educator was so pretty. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, she had an air of intelligent grace and while her eyes were kind, they definitely had the potential for a sharp wit. She was tidily dressed in colours that brought out the beauty of her skin tone and eyes, and a keffiyeh around her neck. She was positively radiant. A beauty that needed to be captured in art, he’d proudly commission such a piece by a dozen different artists just to try and find someone who would be able to capture her essence in their art. He was smitten by you as well. When you made eye contact with the handsome man, a slight blush coloured his cheeks and you couldn’t help but smile even wider. His soft curls were stunning, you gave him your best smile which made him melt more. If you kept smiling at him like that he’d either melt into a puddle or he’d hold a snowdrop bloom and become a new installation in the exhibition to symbolise his resilience with the challenge of not causing a scene and swooning over you and attempting to sweep you off of your feet.

You had a hand on your abdomen as you waited around near the entrance of the botanical gardens greenhouse, this was the opening day of your pop-up exhibition. One you’d been working on for months. Probably more like years with how you were such a history nerd and how one conversation with your cool aunt when you were a teenager sparked an interest in flowers and all the nerding out that came with that. 

Anxiety was looming in your stomach but that was to be expected, having your hand on your stomach wasn’t a super obvious marker of that though so you kept it there as you tried to imagine your diaphragm while regulating your breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. 

While some people had already come in and started to make their way around the art, this would be the first guided tour of the exhibition. This project had been your artistic baby for so long, it felt really important to you and you just wanted it to go perfectly. 

You took a deep breath and listened to your amazing colleague who came over after a moment as you both ran through some things quietly and in what felt like the blink of an eye, you were now standing with a group of about a dozen people of all ages and had started to guide the tour. 

You weren’t sure if you’d blacked out and started, you weren’t sure what that would feel like so you couldn’t compare it to anything else, but you were certain it would feel something like this. You don’t know what had happened but your feet had started moving and your mouth had turned up into a friendly smile and words started spilling out as you’d started to lead the keen group around the exhibition. 

You all walked around and discussed the sculptures, crochet installations, and paintings. The group was interested and respectful, there were some witty questions and there was a plethora of interested and respectful questions as well. 

Whenever there’s a point you almost forget to add in Javier will smile and politely raise his hand to ask a question, a gesture that nobody else makes before they ask a question. He’s too cute. His existence is taking almost everything in you not to giggle when you look into his sparkling chocolate eyes and nod and he then asks the perfect question for you to elaborate on something. “Ah…” He coos at the right times when you speak. 

“How interesting!” He genuinely exclaims with a fascinated and kind smile when you add in a stroke of a fun fact while painting the context of a piece. 

You’re feeling more and more confident with each piece you show and talk about. Having your personal, professional hype man in Javier is extremely helpful. It’s the little necessary boost in confidence that helps bring you back into your body and in no time you’re feeling more present in the moment and that you can truly enjoy it. 

There are pieces and interesting conversations about peonies, a Chinese symbol of wealth adored by Emperors, violets, a queer symbol of sapphic women going all the way back to Sappho on Lesbos island thousands of years ago. The group are interested and engaged throughout the various topics which makes you smile. 

You smile more widely as you and the group arrive at the next three pieces. Javier’s eyes shine as he sees the genuine but more customer service polite smile turn into a wider, awe-inspired smile as they get to the next piece. His eyes take in how your eyes glow like the most luminous image in the world. You’re a true piece of art. He thinks of how inspired and meta it is that the most beautiful piece of art in the world is sentient and is the one loving art and educating the public on it while being completely unaware of the masterpiece that she is. 

His cheeks heat up, he’ll keep that image of you as a mental photograph to treasure for years. He’s not sure if he’ll ever have the words to describe it with justice in one of his screenplays but he’ll try. It’ll be the look of love on the intelligent lead’s face, and then the romantic look of love, that’s on his face right now, will be seen on the love interest’s face. 

You’re completely unaware of Javier’s thoughts as you’re not a mind reader. But you smile more as you look at this next piece. You love every piece in this exhibition of course, but these next few pieces stunned you the most with their power and the artistic vision and skill that went into them. You had felt honoured to be able to work with these artists. 

The piece that your group have now stood around is a display with a series of woven Waratah flowers in different stages of bloom, all bright in colour. The crimson of the flower is so eye-catching and gasp-inducing. All of the pieces are stunning but this is one of your favourites, you happily reactivate into nerd mode for this piece. 

“This is a collection of the Waratah flower through its cycle of life.” You catch the amazement in the eyes of people who step closer to take in the vibrant colour and detail in this piece, you pause to let it truly have its moment, before continuing. “The Waratah is a stunning crimson bloom native to Australia, that has particular significance to the Aboriginal communities there. Its name comes from ‘Warada’ which is an Eora Aboriginal word meaning ‘beautiful’.” You say as you smile and look at the woven piece, its colour is so vibrant, while it may not be a real bloom that everyone is looking at, it’s still clear that it deserves to have a name like that. “Each Spring in the southern hemisphere, when the Waratah blooms it’s viewed as a time of new beginnings and marking of the new season. The flower has a history of being used medicinally for the Aboriginal peoples in Southeast Australia, and symbolises the powerful connection between indigenous peoples and their land. Indigenous peoples aren’t homogenous but there is a shared experience with connections to land and the trauma of the loss of land that has come with colonisation along with other institutional and intergenerational traumas that have occurred and continue to as a result of colonisation.” 

Collaborating with indigenous and other artists with histories of resilience and oppression had been an honour and you were happy for it to be platformed in this space and to see people engaging with it. 

You guide the group to the next piece in the exhibition, which was a mixed-media collage painting. Two men were painted outside of a theatre, they were wearing suits and hats and each had a green carnation visibly pinned to the lapels of their blazer. It was then collaged with newspaper headlines about men charged with sodomy and homosexual law reform. 

“The red carnation symbolises deep love and affection, pink meaning gratitude, white meaning pure love. The green carnation wasn’t originally given a specific meaning like its differently pigmented cousins.” You say as you look at the large painting, it was truly incredible, the brushwork was stunning and the colours had been pulled together perfectly. 

“In 19th century Paris, it became a fashionable coded way of queer men signalling their queerness to each other.” You see Javier raise his hand and you smile and nod, confirming him to ask his question. 

“This is in relation to Mr Oscar Wilde, the poet and playwright, right, Miss?” He asked with a big smile. “Yes.” You smiled at him warmly which made cheeks widen with a big, innocent grin. “In 1892 Oscar Wilde popularised this symbol by asking his friends to wear it on their left lapel when attending the opening night of his play Lady Windermere’s Fan. Boygenius’ pink carnation is a reference to Elliot Smith, not Oscar Wilde, I’m afraid.” You add with a small chuckle that gets a few laughs in the group, mainly the younger ones but Javier chuckles like you said the wittiest thing ever. 

There were a couple of questions about this piece and a discussion on all the different elements of this piece. You took a deep breath in and made eye contact with Javier, he gave you a warm reassuring smile. He mouthed you can do this! And his eyes were as warm as a hug from your closest friend you haven’t seen in months. 

You then guided the group to the final piece, it was the big finale of the exhibition, something truly incredible. You looked at the gorgeous, blooming sea of purple with hints of dark yellow, brown, and green sprinkled through the cloak. 

“Here, we have this stunning cloak.” You paused to take it in and to see the expressions of everyone else take in how detailed and time-consuming this must’ve been. “This cloak is covered in the Faqqu’a iris, the national flower of Palestine. Covered in over 300 handmade flowers, each one is made out of satin that had been hand-dyed and or hand-painted by this young artist.” 

“The Faqqu’a iris is typically purple and has grown in the mountain ranges of Palestine.” 

“Purple irises symbolise intelligence, no?” He asked with a gentle smile on his face as he looked at you. 

“Yes, along with royalty and strength and courage. Which is particularly fitting here.” You say with a smile, Javier thoughtfully nods, almost as if he wasn’t aware and this is new information to him. “The Faqqu’a iris has suffered as part of the resulting ecocide of Israeli settler colonialism and the illegal occupation. The flower has become critically endangered due to over picking and deforestation for Israeli settlements dating back to the Nakba in 1948. This became worse in the 50s and the flower has been called endangered, vulnerable and at the risk of extinction several times by various organisations.

This artist had been making some blooms for a project but was inspired to create and finish this piece after the 2024 Met Gala which had the theme of ‘The Garden of Time’, the story that inspired the theme and the fashion choices were opulent, showing a great class divide, and apathy towards the struggle of many. This, the complicity of guests and media covering this and the media distraction away from the genocide Israel has been committing upset many. Fashion was not used as a form of protest at that event. Which is highlighted here, with how simply it could be done.” 

You look at the cloak for a moment and then have a conversation about all of this and the exhibition as a whole. Slowly the group breaks off, some leaving and others deciding to stick around. You take a deep breath in and then another one out as this has happened, the rest of this pop-up is going to go well, you know it. 

“Excuse me, Miss,” you’re interrupted by Javier’s words with his thick accent and kind face. “I have to say that I truly feel like an expert in floriography and the social history of blooms across the globe.” He continued, smiling as the few lines around his eyes creased in delight as he looked at you. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words. Your sweet cheerleader. 

“I’m glad to educate a stranger, always.” You playfully tease. “A stranger, mi amor?” He asks feigning shock as he pecks your cheek softly. 

“Thank you for coming, it was really sweet.” You say softly as you smile at him. 

“You were truly exceptional, mi amor! So smart! So creative! So pretty!” He exclaims as he looks around at the exhibition in awe. 

“You’re too kind.” 

“Do you think any of the patrons saw through my sneaky disguise?” He asks playfully with a bright large smile. He’s so playful and endearing, if you had a cold heart, he’d melt it. 

“No,” you chuckle. “I don’t think anybody wondered if the inquisitive patron is seeing the guide.” You chuckle more as you look at him. 

“Maybe I pay more attention to pretty educators, and this exhibition has the prettiest one, who could not be inquisitive amor?” Javi then turned in a theatrical way. “I believe I just saw someone delivering and installing an installation live?” 

“Wait-what?” You ask, as you quickly turn. “Is-” Your eyes widened as you saw the purple hues of a large bouquet of flowers being delivered to your colleague at the entrance who was nosily checking the note.  “We should see the history behind this one no, amor?” He asked with a hopeful smile as if you wouldn’t want to look at a big bouquet that had been delivered. You nodded and gave his cheek a soft peck as you walked over to take the flowers from your colleague, she winked at you and smiled at Javi. 

Purple irises that symbolised intelligence, the man had done his homework. But you suppose he had done that just by living with and loving you. A similar purple hue was in the greenery backing the bouquet, the heliotropes, everlasting, eternal love. The centrepiece was your favourite flowers which made you smile. The other little flowers carefully placed in were beautiful and he had certainly picked up one of the many floriography books that had been sprawled out on the dining room table lately. 

“You and your sweet words and gestures and perfect curls.” You say with a small breathless chuckle as you look up at him, he smiles back at you. The flowers are gorgeous and there’s a sweet smell as you look at him. 

“Well amor, I’ll look around again and then go back to the entrance for the next tour.” Javier says smiling widely. “You don’t need to stay for the next tour, it was so sweet of you to come now- it helped.” You say after letting out a small chuckle at his offer. “Is it too much?” He asked as his eyes widened, worried he’d maybe overstepped. His face was always so reactive and sweet. “I’m just so proud and always impressed by you, it is marvellous to see the passion you have when you speak of the intersection of art and history.” 

“No, not at all, it’s so sweet.” You reassure him as your cheeks heat up. You feel very loved with all the little sweet gestures happening, the flowers, him showing up to the opening day of the exhibition, engaging as if he’s a stranger enthralled by this, wanting to spend the day doing that. And he does.

[peachdues]

Phantasmagoria (NSFW)

Sanemi’s Tell Me to Stop (teaser)

Y’all didn’t think I was going on hiatus without queuing a few things, did you?

Coming soon to a theatre near you: Sanemi’s Tell Me to Stop (modern AU)

If you thought Rengoku’s was angsty, you have another storm coming. It’s Sanemi’s turn to suffer.

See the extended teaser here

⚠️ NSFW ahead⚠️

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Y/N supposes it was inevitable that this game of hide-and-seek they’ve been playing would end, and end like this.

She knew where the night was heading the moment she showed up to the club in Mitsuri’s emerald green dress — the one she wore her very first time here in this strobe-light palace — and saw his eyes darken from lilac to eggplant. Y/N felt the blazing heat of his stare in her bones even as she danced with her girls, could feel his magnetic pull as he looked at her like a predator eyes its next meal.

The more sober part of her is nervous, knows that she is crossing a line she can’t come back from. She knows that what is going to happen will do nothing but exacerbate the poisonous love in her heart, but that part of her is so small, so feeble against the fire she feels in her blood as she approaches the bar where he stands.

She pretends not to notice that he watches every movement she makes as she leans over the ledge to order another shot. Only after the bartender places the little glass in front of her, only after she tips her head back and lets the acid liquid slide down her throat, does she turn to meet his punishing gaze.

“You really should try joining in on the fun, Sanemi,” she keeps her voice at a normal volume, forcing him to lean in slightly to hear her over the pulsing beat of the club music. She resists the urge to close her eyes as the familiar whiff of his cologne hits her nose, the smell of home, of a time before he ripped her heart out and stomped it to dust.

Sanemi smirks, and it makes her stomach dip because he’s just so beautiful. “I’m having fun watching from here,” his lips are so close to her ear that she shivers, gooseflesh erupting over her bare arms.

She won’t let him know how much he gets to her, but she also can’t resist teasing him a little further, seeing how far she can push him before he breaks. She raises her hand to pat the part of his chest that he has left exposed, his skin burning under her touch.

Sanemi snaps.

He grabs her hand before she can pull it away and tugs her closer to him, and Y/N’s breath is knocked from her as Sanemi whirls her around and presses her up against the dirty club wall and kisses her like she has never been kissed before. He pins the hand she had on his chest against the wall, over her head, while his other hand tightens possessively around her waist. His kiss is demanding and hard but Y/N is addicted to him. She brings her free hand up to his neck, digging her nails in slightly to the sensitive skin eliciting a growl from him as he nips her bottom lip.

Sanemi releases the arm he had pinned to the greasy club wall to hold the side of her face, tilting her head so he can deepen their kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth to dance with her own. Y/N can’t control her body as she presses into him, desperate to feel him against her, to feel him fill every empty part of her until she feels whole again. She knows that she is dooming herself further, knows that she is only setting herself up to fall harder than she already has, but she can’t stop because it’s Sanemi and she loves him.

She feels his growing hardness against her thigh and she can’t stop her hips from grinding against him, heat pooling in her belly. Sanemi moans into her mouth as her hips undulate against his, and Y/N feels herself go molten at the sound. She wants to make him do that again and again, but Sanemi tears his mouth from hers before she can.

His chest is heaving and his eyes are wild and dark as he looks at her. His eyes fall to her reddened, kiss-swollen mouth, and even in the dim light of the club, Y/N can see his pupils explode. He grabs her hand and suddenly he’s tugging her through the crowded dance floor, through the throng of people gathered near the exit, and they’re outside, the night air cool on their overheated skin.

They stumble down dark empty streets, but Y/N does not feel afraid because Sanemi is here and he may not care about her enough to love her, but he is a gentleman who won’t let her get hurt by anyone but him. They’re walking and she’s laughing and he keeps stopping and tugging on her hand to kiss her again and again, as though he too, cannot get enough of her.

Y/N neither knows nor cares where they are going but eventually they arrive at an apartment complex, and she realizes he has brought her home. His lips are on hers the whole walk to his door, never breaking even as he fumbles for his keys. Sanemi finally unlocks the door and pushes her inside his dark apartment, kicking the door shut behind him.

Sanemi’s hands shoot for her waist and he crushes her against him, his tongue licking the roof of her mouth. Y/N is sweaty and slightly sticky from the club, but the way Sanemi molds her to him makes her feel so god damn pretty, like he’s been set adrift in a starless sea and she’s his only lifeline. Sanemi’s hands move from her waist to cup her ass, kneading her flesh as he groans into her mouth again. His hands slide lower, grabbing her thighs to lift her up so that her legs can wrap around his waist.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she murmurs, her head tilted back as Sanemi’s lips lay claim to her neck, his hips pressing her harshly against the entryway wall of his apartment.

The snow-haired man groans, his hands fondling the soft curve of her ass beneath her dress. “Then tell me to stop,” he whispers, his breath hot as his tongue traces teasingly across her collar bone.

Y/N whimpers as she tightens her legs around his hips, locking him closer to her. If he stopped now, she thinks she might fall apart completely.

“Tch, just as I thought,” his teeth nip harshly against her throat as Sanemi pulls back to look into her eyes. “You can’t.”

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

I’ll be interested to see if y’all can guess as to what the setting/theme/conflict will be. Let’s see if the playlist gives you any ideas 😘

If someone does guess correctly (doesn’t have to be specific, just close enough), then maybe I’ll post an angsty scene to keep y’all fed.

Buckle up y’all, it’s gonna be a long one. See ya in August 🍑🌸

[the-fiction-witch]

Bunny & Bear P2

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Doctor Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Y/n (Nurse) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 929

Jack reluctantly made his way to work, putting on clothes he didn't care much about before heading into the hospital. He winced as he grabbed a mask from the front desk, a requirement for all nurses and doctors due to the blue flu. The hospital had a distinct foul smell that had turned even healthy stomachs, and there was a risk of getting flu fluids on the skin, which could be fatal.

Each small ward of the Port Victory Royal Hospital usually held ten beds per ward. Three wards in total, each run by one of the doctors, Dr Sneed, Dr Dawkins and Professor Mcgregor. Along with five private recovery rooms each with one bed. Giving the hospital a common capacity of Thirty-five patients at any one time.

Jack walked through the corridors of the hospital the sights, smells, and sounds reminding him of the deepest and dark London slums. Each of the wards was full to bursting beds ramed mattress to mattress from wall to wall, with only a small strip in the middle to walk, six beds in each of the private rooms, the surgical theatre being used as a fourth ward, corridors filled with anyone who could still sleep on the floors. 

The hospital was filled to bursting point with people sick from this flu, the scent of sickness, of vomit and shit, filled every room. Groans, moans, coughs and wheezes come from those infected. All of them are in the varying stages of delirium. 

Jack got on with what little work he could really do, most of it being a porter to take bodies down to the overflowing morgue, paperwork for new patients, and giving mostly painkillers to aid people's passing as little else could really be done. 

"Pleased you could join us, doctor," Y/n spoke up as Jack arrived at his ward she was busy as ever bustling around the many beds doing what little she could do mask over her face, 

"You're still working?" he asked,

"I have to be, we're down to four nurses. Hetty, Lisa, Alice and me. but Alice is locked in with Sneed so." 

"You need to rest Y/n,"

"I'll be fine,"

"Alright, just did Sneed's ward we have six more dead in there,"

"Great, I'll call Tim up," 

"What's the status on prof?"

"Still out, but Lisa is on stand-by near his office to force coffee down his throat as soon as he stirs,"

"Right... I'll go see Sneed. We can't handle this on our own." 

"Good luck, he won't even answer his door now."

"Well, I'll break his door down if he doesn't, way too many people down here for him to be doing his Adam and Eve act." he nodded,

"Alright," she nodded, but she coughed,

The sound sent a shiver down Jack's spine and he grabbed her arm to force her to stop working, "what was that?"

"Nothing." 

"Y/n." He glared,

"Forg in my throat that's all," she said, "Probably just the smell,"

He sighed putting a hand to her head feeling the head coming from her skin,

"Don't you start." She snapped forcing his hand away, "I'm hot because I'm working that's all," 

"skin, Now." He demanded, 

She rolled her eyes pulled down her mask and showed each side of her hands showing no signs of the blue tint, 

"Alright," he nodded putting her mask back up for her, "Just... be careful,"

"I know," she nodded trying to go but he kept hold of her arm,

"No, I'm serious. Be careful Y/n." He warns, "Finish what you're doing and go for a break in the courtyard, I'll come to get you when I've dealt with Sneed you're not to go back in before you understand me?"

"I-"

"Do you understand little bunny?" 

"Yes, Jack,"

"Good, go on." He let her go, and headed out of the ward to go see Sneed just catching her mutter under her breath, 

"Grumpy grizzly bear,"

"I heard that! Break. now."

"I'm going! I'm going!" 

He rolled his eyes and headed up to Sneed's room, and he didn't even bother to knock as he pulled down his mask putting his hands in his pockets and leaning against the stairs railing, kicking the door, "Rainsford!"

"Fuck off Dawkins!"

"Come out"

"No."

"Why?"

"Ohh I'm sorry have you missed the literal plague in the hospital,"

"No, I didn't but you're a doctor so come out and do your job,"

"I am not dying for this!"

"If you take precautions you won't," 

"Not proven,"

"Sneed... as much as I hate to admit it... we... need you," he sighed,

"Oh, do you know?"

"Don't be petty," 

"I think I can be, I'm safe, I'm happy, and I have my New Eve to keep me entertained,"

"HI!" Alice giggled 

"Hey Alice," He sighed, "You coming out either,"

"She's staying with me," Sneed interrupted, 

"Both of you need to come out and do your jobs, We need you. We have over a hundred people shoved into this place."

"And we wait another two days enough will die that we'll have sixty,"

"So you're just going to let them die? Seriously Sneed?" 

"What do you want me to do? risk my life to do what! to be at their side to watch more people die?"

"So you're happy to let me do it?" 

"Nothing is stopping you from taking Y/n and locking yourself in your room,"

"No. I am not doing that." He sighed, "Look Sneed. I am giving you a choice, you unlock the door, come down and deal with the patience. Or I am kicking down your door and dragging you down."

"...fine. Give us ten minuets."

"Five. If your not down in the ward I drag you down."

"Alright!"

Jack nodded and headed back down into the hospital to go and check up on y/n. 

Commission Page

[owlsnotes]

I want to see Santiago as a modern local couturier. Always arrogant, always flawlessly dressed, almost always in black — because he knows that black suits him well. Santiago still has this irresistible charm, and people can listen for hours, when he talks about his new collection. Actually, he's not so good at creating new clothes. Actually, mostly this is not even his collection. It's Madeleine's. Santiago is just good at presenting it and making people pay.

(Unexpectedly, now I have a new headcanon. Thanks to @faerywhimsy and one of my favourite iwtv stories — i must here be confined by you — where I saw this trio, and it's the only fic I've seen with them)

It all started, when Parisian coven was destroyed. Santiago run away from Paris and found himself in complete loneliness. He has no maker and no fledgling. Now he has no theatre and no maître. He can't go back to Britain, because London coven will hunt him. Armand and Louis will kill him as soon as he appears in their sight. And he's definitely not going to deal with Lestat.

So Santiago made probably his craziest decision and found Claudia and Madeleine.

They were secretly banished and flew away from Paris, mad at Louis, Armand and Lestat for abandoning them (as they think). Of course, when Santiago appears, it's scandal. Claudia promises that she would rip his eyes out, if she sees him again.

Santiago waits for years, but he doesn't go far. There is not the best time for the ladies. Claudia misses Louis and Lestat, and she doesn't know how to deal with this feelings, and Madeleine doesn't know how to help her. And once, when she's desperate, Santiago is hear to listen. Suddenly he is a good listener, discerning and knowing.

And here their relationship begins. Absolutely toxic mess at the start, when Santiago tried to put himself in charge. But they have decades to deal with it. After all he agrees that Claudia is a leader of this strange trio, she dominates, and it's a relief for each of them. Madeleine is her rightful companion. And Santiago... More than a friend, less than a companion, something different than a lover. He is free to go whenever he wants and fuck whoever he wants, but he always comes back.

Santiago calls them Unholy Trinity, and Claudia laughs.

They move to Swiss. Than to Spain. Than to South America. And one day Santiago finds himself in Cali, wearing golden jacket that Madeleine has made for him. All three of them are wearing something matching golden, because it fits Claudia's skin, Madeleine's hair and Santiago's eyes. This night in some club Santiago is teaching Madeleine how to dance bachata, while Claudia is scanning people around, searching for a prey (she became incredibly good at it). When her voice in his head finally points at a man near the bar, Santiago puts Madeleine's hand into Claudia's and goes to the man, smiling.

They will leave the club together tonight. And the ladies will go outside couple of minutes later and follow them to the nearest dark alley.

[lifespectator]

A Special Night

Elizabeth Olsen x Male Reader

Summary: Your girlfriend and you have some "special time" before she goes on tour.

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), Language

A/N: This is my second time writing smut, so please lmk what you think and if you want to see more in the near future

You were walking out of the movie theatre with your girlfriend, Elizabeth Olsen. She had taken you to watch 'Martha Marcy May Marlene'. Her first project as a professional actress. You were more than happy to see Lizzie finally making her dreams reality.

"So... did you like the movie?" Lizzie asked you, nervousness lingering in her voice. You knew It was the question she had been eager to ask once the movie ended.

"Not gonna lie, I want to punch John Hawkes right in the face after that." She gazed at you and playfully smacked your arm. "Are you kidding? It was amazing. You were amazing in every scene." You responded truthfully as you held her hands.

Lizzie was a woman of many talents; acting is one of them.

"Oh my god! I'm so glad you did!" Lizzie exclaimed happily as she hugged. You hugged her back and smiled.

You were the person who pushed Lizzie to apply for NYU Tisch. Lizzie was glad she had you during the hard times. If it weren't for you being there, she would have dropped out of NYU. Because you were there during the hard times, she wanted you to be there in the happy moments of her life.

Lizzie's excited screams gathered the attention of the people passing by. While some just looked and kept walking, others continued looking. They most likely finished watching the movie or saw a poster and recognized that the pretty woman beside you was the one on the big screen. You decided to take action before a huge crowd gathered, preventing both of you from leaving.

"Baby, let's go home." You told Lizzie, and she agreed. Both of you walked towards the parking lot.

-

"My love, what's wrong? Please tell me." Lizzie asked you once both of you were inside the car. It was evident that something was bothering you.

Even though you were happy for your girlfriend, you knew her job would come with some sacrifices.

You looked away. "I know you had warned me of this. But I don't think I'm ready." You told her the truth.

You knew she was semi-famous thanks to her sisters, but with her becoming an actress, she would soon be famous for her talent. Her life would change forever, yours included.

Worry was evident on Lizzie's face. "Is this about the attention we gathered inside the theatre?" She questioned in a low voice, sadness lingering in her words. "No, I'm fine with that. It's just that tomorrow you leave on tour for your movie, and I don't know how I will handle a lot of time away from you." You responded in a defeated tone.

Ever since you and Lizzie became friends and eventually lovers, you both have always spent all the time possible together. Even when she was filming, you would occasionally visit her. But now, she was required to travel to different states for press conferences.

Lizzie rested her chin on your shoulder. "My love, it pains me too. But believe me, time will pass by fast." She comforted you as she rubbed your chest.

You turned your head to look at her. Her beautiful green eyes and unique features that you wake up every morning to. You brought your hand up to her cheek and caressed it. You leaned in for a kiss which she reciprocated. The kiss started softly, enjoying each other's lips but quickly turned into a hungry kiss. Both fighting for dominance. Low noises were coming out of both of you.

As Lizzie wrapped her arms around your neck, you, in a swift motion, lifted her and helped her straddle you. She let out a moan after feeling your hardened cock against her. You both continued kissing as she slowly started to grind you, to which you let out some muffled groans.

"Fuck." She grunted in between the kiss. Feeling so aroused, you started to undo the button of her low denim shorts. You broke the kiss to speak. "I can't hold any longer, my love." You let out as you tried to regain your breath. "Go for it." She purred. That was your sign.

Lizzie lifted herself from your lap to pull down her shorts, only to now be left in her black underwear. You have seen this view many times, but it never failed to astonish you.

You adjusted the car seat back and pushed your jeans down enough to pull out cock. "So hard already." She cooed as she grabbed it and slowly moved her hand up and down. You groaned at the feeling of her hand on your cock. "I need you now." You said as you moved her underwear to the side, revealing her wet pussy. You aligned your cock with her entrance and which she slowly sank into, causing you both to moan. "Oh Fuck." she let out.

Once your whole length was entirely inside her, she waited there on the base of your cock for you to be ready. Being surrounded by her wet warmth was the best feeling. You grabbed her ass and squeezed it, gaining a groan from her. You thrust your hips upwards and smacked her bum to let her know you were ready.

She started moving her hips as moans came out of her mouth. "So good, baby." You grunted. You brought her down into a kiss and then focused on her neck, scattering it with kisses. "Fuck don't stop!" She cried.

You started sucking on her pulse. She shivered as you gave her neck a playful bite. Her moans and the sound of your skin making contact left you ecstatic. You grabbed both her arms and held them together behind her back. "Oh, fuck, just like that!" Lizzie cried out as you thrust your hips upwards at an animalistic pace. Both of you were dripping in sweat. The car windows were covered in fog. You can only hope no one was witnessing your actions.

After a few more thrusts, you felt her walls tighten around your cock. "Fuck yes!" She moaned. Her juices released on your shaft. It took a few more thrusts to feel your orgasm coming. You let go of her arms and grabbed her ass which you brought down to you as you felt your orgasm approach. You groaned as your cum released inside her while she moaned at the warm feeling. Both of you stayed in the same position, regaining your breath and giggling.

She slowly got off you. "I might have fucked up." You told her as you re-adjusted your seat. "Don't worry. I was on the pill." Lizzie said with an innocent smile as she grabbed some napkins to clean herself.

You just grinned as you started the engine to head home. You were going to make the night special.

-

Both of you wasted no time once you reached home. Once you parked the car, you picked up Lizzie and carried her to your shared bedroom. Before you both knew it, you both had removed your clothes.

Lizzie stood there, letting you see her curves and beautiful breast. She walked up to you, swaying her hips. As she reached you, she placed her hands on your shoulders and ran them down your arms as she sank to her knees.

"Let me treat you." She grabbed your cock and started stroking it. You groaned at the sensation of her soft hand on your length.

Lizzie opened her mouth and licked your tip, covered in pre-cum, moaning at the taste. She placed her lips on your tip and lowered her head, taking your entire cock.

She started bobbing her head as you got lost in the pleasure. You reached for one of her breasts and squeezed it, earning muffled moans. You looked down and locked eyes with her; seeing her cheeks hollowed is what did it for you. You started to thrust your hips, making your cock go deeper into her mouth. After the repeated movement, you finished in her mouth.

"God, that was so fucking good." You groaned. She licked her lips, opened her mouth, and stuck her tongue out, showing you that she had swallowed your cum.

You help Lizzie stand up and lead her to the bed. Once you both reached the bed, she got on all fours and leaned her upper body forward, leaving her ass in the air.

"I'm blessed for having this view." You positioned yourself behind her. "What would you do without it?" She teased. "Wouldn't want to dream of it."

You rubbed your tip against her slit. "So wet already." You teased. "Fuck, Y/n, I need you now." She pleaded.

She gasped as you pushed your cock inside her. You started to move, getting lost in her warmth. "Don't stop!" She cried out as you fastened your thrust.

You ran your hands on her bare back and then gripped her hips tightly, finally setting a pace. You felt your excitement build up with every thrust. Elizabeth tried her best to suppress moans to hear the noises of pleasure you made. She wanted to hear how good she made you feel.

While Lizzie's walls were massaging you, her hand reached for her core and made circles on her clit. "I'm so close." You feel Lizzie's walls tighten around your cock. "I am too, baby." She gripped the sheets as her legs started to tremble when she reached her climax. Her moans overpowered your moans and the noises of your hips smacking her ass. It only took a few more thrusts until you reached the edge. Your cum mixed with her juices as you emptied inside her.

Elizabeth let out a low moan as you pulled out of her. You lay down next to her and started playing with her hair. Both of you were panting.

"I'm gonna miss this." You husked. She turned and rolled over to look at you.

"Fuck that. You're coming with me." She purred. You giggled at her comment. "You actually want me to come with you? No pun intended, by the way." You smiled.

"I mean, yes. Who else is going to satisfy my needs?" She asked as you giggled. " We'll talk about this tomorrow, deal?" She hummed in approval. You brought her close and covered both your bodies with the bed sheets.

-

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

[dainangel]

bad decisions

pairing: s.jaeyun x f!reader

also: l.heeseung

warning: mentions of drinking, cheating, suggestive

—> even after a messy breakup, you still found yourself still attracted to jake, and he felt the same. its not a healthy relationship, but how could you both avoid it when it its just too good? 

🎧: greedy, everytime, break up with your girlfriend, motive (ariana grande

author note: holy moly its been a hot minute since ive posted on here!!! anyways, i was listening to ariana so much recently so that is the cause of this writing ✍️

party. get drunk. make up. get down. kiss. say goodbye. repeat. 

that was the continuous pattern you had with none other than jake sim. fate had somehow twisted its ways to urging you to always run into the boy again, again, and again. it was unavoidable, no matter how much you tried. 

3 years ago back in your senior year of high school, jake confessed his huge crush on you right at your front door at night. of course, you felt the same which led to eating each other’s faces off under the dim porch light for your neighbors to see (cough). he loved you, and you loved him. there were bumps and dents through the span of your 2 year relationship, but you couldnt have asked for a better boyfriend. until he took you out to the worst party of your life.

in the moment, the party was amazing and the energy was through the roof. jake’s frat friend was hosting it as his place since his parents were out on vacation, and boy was it a huge home. we’re talking mulitple refrigerators, a movie theatre, gaming room, high balconies, and a jacuzzi on the second floor. after having too much to drink, and talking it up with strangers who were now acquaintances, you realized jake was missing by your side. normally during parties, jake would always follow you around to make sure no one unecessary bothered you, held your cup when you had to use the restroom, and would make the dance floor intimate. concerned, you walked around and through the atmosphere of sweaty bodies and alcohol, looking for any sign of jake. with your red cup slipping out of your hand, you made eye contact with jake in a hallway. making out with a girl. a girl that wasnt you. her back was facing you, but you had to see the abomination of jake going crazy with a random girl near the bathroom. you could feel big globs of salty tears blurring your vision, and your breath hitching immediately. at this point both jake and the girl noticed you, still not letting go of each other’s grasp. when quickly turning around and running off back into the crowd, all you could hear was the yelling of jake, desperate for you to come back. 

that tragic and unforgettable event was 7 months ago. you were eventually immune to jake’s random calls and texts, asking for forgiveness and checking in on you. they didnt feel the same as before, and did not make you feel any better. you ended up blocking him on everything, including deleting his contact information on messages. you were way past this toxic incident, now talking to a guy named heeseung. at your college, you couldnt deny that he was one of the popular guys on the basketball team. although he was basically a himbo and a jock, he was still anything better than jake. 

yet, that didnt stop you from running back to jake himself. he was like a drug you couldnt stop taking, and no matter what you always wanted to come back for more. soon your excuses to go to parties with heeseung werent to get down with him, but  jake. your ex of 2 years now clouded your brain, and even though you never unblocked him on social media- you hoped to see him at multiple parties. and of course, he was always there. 

party after party since the incident, it was the same deal. bring heeseung and let him wander off towards a different group, get drunk with jake, find the nearest bathroom to make out in, get down, and end it all with a sloppy kiss without a verbal goodbye. you never expected to reach this level of insanity, especially with your long-time ex you swore to never go back to. you didnt care how horrible  jake was and how disloyal you were— as long as he was yours for the night. 

you saw him as a toy to be selfish with, using him to your likings. make him feel weak in the knees, and leave him empty handed afterwards. this weird situationship soon blossomed and churned into a possible second chance with the man. 

however, you did not expect to wake up in his bed on a saturday morning so soon. it was just like how it was 3 years ago. turning around to face the other way, jake was wide awake, looking into your eyes with a loving look. you stared back in interest, suddenly feeling a craving to be bad, once more. this obviously wasnt a healthy relationship or whatever this turned into, but you couldnt help it. neither could he. “wanna wanna go for round 2?” jake spoke under his breath. responding with a sly smile, your lips were already locked with his; meanwhile your hand was reaching towards the bedstand to silence the multiple calls from heeseung.

 this was far more important. 

[asteroidzzzn]

dance, baby!

pairing: dancer!reader x soccer!ellie

warnings: cursing, reader is delulu and very anxious

word count: 1.6k

a/n: fear not this is definitely not a self insert bc im a dancer whattttttt lol... first fic im posting to tumblr im nervous!

summary: show days were always nerve-racking no matter what. the chaos backstage, constant injuries, and pressure to impress your instructors. it definitely didn't ease your nerves to see that ellie williams had showed up, and was sitting in the front row.

༊*·˚

while the techies adjusted the lighting in the box, you and your friends peeked through the curtains at the murmuring audience beginning to take their seats.

"oh my god, almost all the seats are full!" your friend whispered beside you.

"yeah..." you trailed off, scanning the audience for familiar faces. you giggled when jade pointed out your math teacher in the third row, and your history teacher in the fifth who had brought his two daughters.

you fell silent when your gaze fell to the first row, near the dead center of the stage. ellie williams. she told you she would be sure to come see you dance, but you didn't expect her to actually follow through.

jade poked your side when she noticed your expression.

"hey, you ok? i know it's a lot of people watching but we'll do great."

"i'm fine," you backed away from the curtains. "we should start warming up." she agreed and followed you to the green room. as you walked, your mind wandered to the last time you saw ellie.

ellie made herself comfortable by immediately falling to your bed one the two of you arrived. as you took out your chromebook and notes to begin working on your project, she studied your room.

"sorry it's a bit messy, i didn't plan to have anyone over," you softly spoke up, slightly embarrassed that a girl you just met saw the clutter in your room. especially a pretty girl.

"dude if you think this is messy, you should see mine," she snickered. suddenly her eyebrows raised at the sight of your trophies, medals, and plaques presented on the top of your dresser.

"woah, what's all that for?"

"oh, they're all from dance," you shrugged.

"no way, this one has your name inscribed on it! that's so cool."

you smiled at how amused she was. it was cute.

"are you in the shows the school does? "

you nodded and pushed your chromebook screen slightly down, finding talking to her already more interesting than the project you were supposed to be working on.

"there's a show coming up soon, actually. i'm pretty nervous. we're going all the way to the rose."

her head tilted to the side, as if to ask what that was. you explained the theatre's significance, and whatever more she asked after that. within thirty minutes, she knew all the drama between the dance team, and basically your whole backstory regarding dancing.

she gushed about soccer, and you both found you were unexpectedly very similar. extremely dedicated to your crafts, having the best friends on the best teams, and the shittiest coaches in the universe.

your schoolwork was long forgotten at the foot of the bed as you two laid on your backs staring at the ceiling lit up by glowing star stickers.

"so, your shows this weekend?"

"yeah."

"what's it about."

"ellie, it's december, and this is a dance show. think very carefully."

"umm, christmas themed?"

you laughed, "it's the nutcracker."

"that seems awesome. are you the main girl? y'know, the one that cracks the nuts."

she giggled at her choice of words while you rolled your eyes.

"no, it's always the same girl every year. i'm in the russian, snow, and rats."

she slapped the bed with a gasp and sat up. "oh my god. now i have to see it. you jumping around in a rat costume will be hilarious."

your hands covered your face as you laughed, "no, you can't go see it! that's embarrassing."

"i'll be front row recording. and i'll give money to your dance team, so you should be happy."

"ugh, i'm gonna kill myself," you attempt to sound upset at what you thought was an empty promise, but you can't seem to chase away the smile that appears whenever she speaks.

to be honest, you couldn't understand why you were so nervous. ellie was just another one of your friends at your show. nothing more. just a friend that you had talked to once. that paid $25 to see you dance. and drove 40 minutes to a fancy theatre.

you groaned. i'm so delusional, you thought. everything is fine.

you only danced in the second act, so you decided to sit backstage and read a book to pass the time.

as you lounged on a prop couch, you heard a shriek coming from the wings. you placed your book down and cautiously entered sidestage, and a small crowd started to trickle in.

your heart dropped when you saw jade wincing and sobbing while clutching her ankle. your instructor barged in behind you, shoving past the group of worried girls surrounding jade. the show was only on the party scene, where jade—who played fritz and many other important roles in the show—just ran off.

"what is going on here?" she hissed, grabbing jade and pulling her into the green room.

jade sniffled as she stumbled through the door. "i twisted my ankle...i'm sorry."

the instructor sighed, attempting to release some tension.

"don't apologize, it happens. but who will be fritz for the rest of the show? you're also the lead for russian, so you need to get to teaching one of your friends your choreography and quick."

jade nodded rapidly.

you were both terrified and honored that you were her first choice as an understudy.

jade hugged you one final time in the wings before your cue.

"you're gonna do amazing," she whispered in your ear, rubbing your back soothingly. she pulled away and squeezed your shaking hands.

"you know this. you're the fastest learner i know. go out there and kill it."

you shut your eyes and exhaled. you nodded and turned away, prepping to run onto stage.

the overhead light turned purple. yellow. white. you were on stage. it was thrilling. horrifying. the lights blinded you as you kept your eyes as far away from the audience as possible. as far away from her as possible.

but you couldn't resist. you desperately needed to know what ellie looked like as she watched you.

her eyes sparkled under the lights. she was dangerously close to you, leaning forward in her seat, which allowed you to catch a glimpse at the hint of a smile. she seemed utterly entranced by you.

but, you allowed yourself to look for a second too long. as you attempted to rise onto the top of your box to finish off the last set of turns in the dance, the stage failed you. your foot slipped out from underneath you and you came tumbling down, landing on your back.

you swiftly rose up, placed your arms in the ending position, propped one knee up, and gave the audience a smile, as if it was the plan all along to end up on the floor.

you rushed side stage after curtsying a final time, and your lungs felt as if they were on fire. tears stained your perfectly made-up face, and your head spun.

it was extremely embarrassing that the only thought on your mind at the time was about ellie.

you needed fresh air.

the halls were crowded with dancers rushing towards the lobbies to greet their loved ones that came to watch. you pushed through the people and pried the back door open.

you let out a huge sigh of relief as the cold wind hit your face. you slowly sunk to the concrete and rested your head on your knees, attempting to take deep breaths.

after about ten minutes of intermission had passed, you shot up, realizing you almost fell asleep. the past few hours were packed with so much stress it had you completely exhausted.

you pressed your hands on the floor and stood up, reaching for the door back into the dressing room. you paused when you saw someone peek around the corner of the brick wall.

you froze when you saw ellie cautiously step into the breezeway, holding something in her hands. oh my god. did she get flowers?

your mind rushed with questions and thoughts, simply staring at her now standing in front of you, flowers in hand.

you decided on, "those for me?"

ellie chuckled nervously.

"yeah, i saw everyone else getting them, so i figured i would too. they were pretty cheap and they're the same color as your tutu..." she gestured between the blue flowers and your costume, "i thought you'd like them. i know it's only the middle of the show, so it's actually kinda weird, i guess, but..." she appeared unsure of herself as she spoke. you hoped she could see the harsh blush that suddenly grew on your cheeks as a sign that you loved them.

"i- wow, thank you. trust me i don't think it's weird. i didn't even expect you to show up, to be honest..." you grabbed the flowers and began fidgeting with the petals.

"well i'm glad i did. it's really cool. and the snow part was beautiful."

you scoffed. "yeah, i'm sure i was the most gorgeous dancer on stage with that graceful landing."

she frowned when you quickly wiped your eyes. "you're really hard on yourself, i thought it was still great. and you pulled it off better than i ever could've."

you tilted your head down to hide the smile growing on your face, leaving a slight pause. "i should head back now, i'm sure my friend jade wants to see me."

she nodded and stepped back, swaying on her feet. "yeah, yeah... i'll... see you later, good luck." she began walking to the front of the auditorium.

"thank you again, ellie," you called out to her before disappearing behind the metal door.

as soon as you entered the dressing room, your back pressed against the door, hands clutching the small bouquet, and heart racing.

what was that!?

༊*·˚

a/n: aw they're awkward everyone point and laugh! this was supposed to be a one shot, but i got carried away, so part 2 soon! any feedback is greatly appreciated (*^▽^*) also fun fact this whole thing is based on how my friend got asked out by their now gf, how adorable i love them. for reference, i imagine ellie and reader in this as 15,16,17 ish so in high school, but u can picture whatever floats ur boat, it's just a more innocent and lighthearted little story (✿◠‿◠)