#normally working on a new piece in the new year always stresses me out

[littledata]

@princington's amazing art brought me back to this fic so have a little extra for them.

There are many, many terrible things about dating Beatrice.

For example: she manages to wake up at six AM every single morning to go jogging and comes home looking sweaty and sexy while Ava is still dealing with bedhead. She's also organised to the point of insanity and remembers every important date, even the ones Ava didn't realise she knew (like the date she opened the coffee shop. They hadn't even met for fuck's sake), and manages to swoop in with a thoughtful gift or kind word to mark the occasion. Meanwhile, Ava is still scribbling DON'T FORGET DENTIST - TUESDAY?? on the back of her hand like a high schooler.

And if all of that wasn't horrible enough, even after almost a year of dating, Beatrice can still roll up the cuffs of her sleeves or adjust her glasses or recite some complicated piece of research, and Ava winds up hopelessly turned on in public on the regular.

It sucks, actually. Ava's life is awful.

None of that is the worst part of it though. The worst part of dating Beatrice, who is sexy and thoughtful and intelligent, is that she's fucking impossible to buy gifts for.

Beatrice doesn't actually want anything is half the problem. She reads a lot of books but she mostly checks them out from the university library. She drinks a lot of tea, but Ava runs a coffee shop. If her girlfriend wants tea, she has a store room full of it. Other than that, she mostly likes crosswords, the gym, her friends, and… well. Ava.

It's making planning for the first birthday Beatrice has had since they've been together exceptionally stressful. Particularly since Ava knows for a fact that Beatrice's parents believed in a "socks and school supplies" style of gift giving which, as far as she's concerned, barely even count.

"What are you getting Bea for her birthday?" she whispers conspiriatorially to Camila one Saturday afternoon in Mary and Shannon's back yard. Beatrice herself is bouncing the baby on her knee and debating some obscure scientific hypothesis - something about mold. Ava is surprised to find she actually has an opinion on the topic. Probably all those mold documentaries.

Camila snorts, "Have you just figured out she's impossible to buy for?"

"Yes," Ava stresses, "C'mon, what are you getting her? And if it's really good I'm stealing your idea."

"Oh no." Camila shakes her head, "It took me all year to think of something. You're on your own."

"Cam." Ava tries her best pleading, puppy dog eyes. They don't work nearly as well on Camila as they do on Beatrice.

"Ava." Camila pats her hand comiseratingly, "Just get her what every self-respecting lesbian wants for their birthday."

Ava frowns, "Power tools?"

Camila smirks, "Strap-on and lingerie."

So that conversation was entirely useless - mostly because Ava already owns more than enough of both those things and they sort of seem like a gift for both of them more than just Beatrice. And more than anything else, Ava wants her girlfriend to feel special. Like she's worth something great that's for her and only her.

Shannon is her next port of call. Ava corners her in the kitchen where she's refilling drinks and, probably pre-warned by Camila, looks entirely unsurprised to be accosted.

"We normally order some of the gross British candy she likes," Shannon informs her. "And before you even try it - she knows that's what we get her every year, so don't try and steal the idea."

Ava groans despondently, "I'm hitting a wall here. What the fuck do you buy for someone who doesn't actually want anything?"

Beatrice does always say that her best friend is unreasonably logical and practical in her advice. For the first time, Ava understands her plight when Shannon shrugs and says, "Have you tried asking her?"

With nothing else to do, Ava tries. Admittedly, she probably picks a bad time to do it: she's shirtless and sitting cross-legged on their bed while Beatrice massages lotion into the new tattoo on her shoulder. Bea's fingers are gentle and thorough and very, extremely distracting.

"Hey," Ava says a little breathlessly, her eyes closed, "What do you want for your birthday?"

Beatrice, because she is Beatrice, says, "You don't have to get me anything."

Typical. This is why dating her is so difficult. "Obviously I do," Ava points out. "For my birthday you took me to a theme park even though it's your idea of actual, literal hell." Bea had even bought and worn a t-shirt that said "I RODE THE BIG ONE". Camila has the photograph framed in her office.

"Not actual, literal hell," Beatrice argues, "I enjoyed that you had fun."

"There's really nothing you want?" Ava asks.

Disappointingly, Beatrice's fingers stop their movement and she puts a cap on the lotion, moving off the bed behind Ava. "Is this what you were whispering with Camila and Shannon about earlier?"

"Maybe. They weren't helpful."

Beatrice's smile is affectionate, "They never are." She leans in to kiss her, her hand landing on Ava's bare shoulder and skirting over her neck, "I'd like to spend my birthday with you. That's all."

Ava wraps her arms aroud her shoulders and sighs, "Dating you is the worst."

"Mm, awful," Beatrice agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw. "Shall we break up?"

"Yep." Ava turns her head to press their lips together again and uses her distraction to lie back, pulling Beatrice down on top of her. "We're over."

(On her birthday, they drink tea in bed and do a crossword puzzle with Ava's head on Beatrice's shoulder. Later, they wander through a museum eating wine gums and holding hands. At Shannon and Mary's place, Beatrice unwraps the cordless drill that Ava bought for her.

"Thank you," she says, "It's just what I wanted.")

(Ava saves the strap-on and lingerie for later.)

[valkyrja-pride]

Redrawing THAT Shokugeki no Sanji cover 🫣

[mechaknight-98]

Caiju Clean-Up Crew (NSFW) Ft: Momo

When you first came to Earth you were surprised at how kind the Earthlings were, despite being in a constant war with the kaiju. It was endearing, to say the least, but that was two, or three no 5 years ago. Now you were fully integrated and couldn't leave all that cleanly, so you got a job at the Kaiju defense force clean-up team and lived with your friend Momo Hirai, a highly loved and popular anti-Kaiju fighter.

While at work a new employee approached you asking to go to lunch with you. You tell the lady politely that you already have plans to have lunch with your roommate and she sighs before leaving you alone. You finish cleaning up the pieces of Kero Kero, and check your watch,

“Okay, lunchtime,” you say. You wave your friends off and jaunt over to the office. Mono is waiting for you outside in her civilian clothes and mask. So she wouldn't be mobbed by adoring fans

“Ready?” she asked. You nod as you follow her.

The both of you go to the garden of the Anti-Kaiju Defense Force Headquarters. You open the lunch boxes you packed for the both of you. Momo smiled as you handed her food.

“You know what I love most about your cooking Dai-san?” Momo asks you

“The fact that I don't have to make it,” Momo said before taking out her chopsticks and digging in.

“Oh Daihouzan sensei.” you hear a voice come. You groan as if it were the new worker from earlier. She was pretty, too pretty she drew too much attention to herself and it didn't bode well for the flying under the radar you had been doing for the last year.

“Uh Yeah Mrs Chou.” How can I help you?” you asked Mrs Chou

“Oh so polite, but please call me Chewy everyone does.” you nod at Chae’s request

“Okay, Chewy how may I help you,” you respond

“ I heard you got the highest recorded score for the aptitude test in the history of the AKDF. I was wondering if you could help me as I'm retaking it in three weeks and I'd like to move from clean up to the frontlines and I figure who better to teach me than the prodigy himself.” Chewy says to you. You sigh seeing the optimism and hope in her eyes, but before you can dash little Chewy’s dreams Momo steps in.

“I'll work with you,” she says with a rare smile you recognize as a challenge. You cock an eyebrow at your roommate. “Besides you don't want Dai-san as a teacher, he will overload you with information you don't need.” Momo teased.

“Hey they had to change the test because of me,” you said defensively with pride.

Momo rolls her eyes and then faces Tzuyu. “We’ll get you in top shape regardless,” she says

Tzuyu smiles and then thanks the both of you before leaving. You turn to your roommate confused.

“Why are you getting her hopes up? You know how the AKDF are.”

“Because we need more lady front liners and you are too pessimistic,” she says

You tilt your head and reply, “Well if everything was not so engrossed in politics I would have helped her, but the higher-ups they'll eat her alive.”

“Good thing we're going to make sure that doesn't happen,” Momo stated matter of fact

“What do you mean we? You agreed to tutor her,” you called Ge

“Please Dai-san that big ole heart of yours is going help and you know it.”

You groan as the both of you finish up lunch and then head back to work.

The rest of the shift lacks considerable amounts of excitement so Momo and you are both able to head home rather easily and earlier than normal. You and Momo arrive home within seconds of each other. You sit on the stool by your shared countertop when she opens the door. She smiles at you seductively. She grabs you in a hug. You can feel the stress in her body intertwined with her body as much as her curves are.

“What happened today ?” You ask

“What?” Momo responded

“Your tension. It's like if someone injected cortisol into every part of you.” you follow up

“What?” Momo said

“The stress chemical,” you explain Momo nods.

“I always forget how smart you are because of how lazy you are,” Mom says.

“So you're just going to ignore my question? What's up? Is something wrong.”

“No big dog everything is fine. It's just I have been testing a new anti-kaiju weapon, and it's been quite…what's that word you use when something makes you tired tolling?”

“It's probably taxing. Or you could mean it taking a toll.”

Momo clapped and said “The first one.” you smiled at your roommate.

Momo yawns before looking to you for comfort

“I know it's my turn to do dinner and lunch but Dai-san can you do it? I am so tired Dai-san can you help me shower too? I'm too tired after today's fight,” she says with a teasing smile. You consider her words. Your roommate was gorgeous by both Hyperion and human standards so you couldn't complain seeing her body you were also drained from your work today so it was not as enticing a proposition, but when you saw her fall asleep standing you knew she was exhausted. You catch Momo luckily before she falls and she smiles at you. “Thanks Dai-San.”

you smile saying “Any time.” you pick up the slightly older woman and carry her to your apartment’s shared bathroom. You sit her on the toilet before readying the bath and boiling and grabbing all the ingredients for a quick 30-minute meal out. You head back to the bathroom where Momo is already asleep again. Her breathing is fatigued something you have seen before many nights when the two of you would study relentlessly during training camp for the AKDF. You smile as you get up and help her undress. As you leave her grasp to let her get into the tub she grabs you.

“Please stay,” she says.

“But.” You try to respond but Momo counters

“Please” You knew she had you when her eyes did that big pleading thing where she looked at you like a small animal. Helpless and vulnerable. So you relent. You undress as well which causes Momo to blush.

“What? I’m not wasting water if you want me to stay with you, we are showering together like old times.” Momo chuckled as you took your shirt off.

“Wow, you’ve let yourself go.” She teased.

You cock an eyebrow before saying, “Hey watch it. One more snippy comment and I’ll leave.”

Momo nods then shuffles slowly to the bath. As the two of you clean the other off she sighs and says, “I have been so tired lately.”

“Me too and going to sleep doesn’t help as well.” You agree

“Yeah, I keep having this dream of being chased by a giant kaiju.” Momo states

You turn to her, “Wait really? What kind?”

You ask her and she briefly describes the same Kaiju who had been chasing you as well in your dreams. You groan and get up. Momo looks at you confused.

“I’ll be right back.” You say

“Wait why?” Momo asks

“We might have an infestation.” You say. Momo snaps to attention and follows.

The two of you get dressed and head outside of your apartment. You notice every acting progressively more sluggish and tired. This serves as only more fuel for your theory. You walk out of the building grab a big rock and throw it at a window. When the window doesn’t break you turn to Momo. She nods and heads back to HQ. Not wanting to waste the time though you find a quiet place with no prying eyes and take out your rizer. You use it to transform into your Hyperion form where you see the leaching kaiju attached to your building. You grab the camouflaged kaiju and slam it safely away from your building. Without wasting any time you use your Special particle beam to kill it and fly away looking for a safe place to go. Change back into your human form. On the way back to your apartment you pick up one of Momo’s favorite sodas to allay suspicion.

When you arrive back at the complex Momo is there she turns at you.

“Where did you go.”

You hand her the soda and she takes it graciously.

“Hyperman showed up and killed the kaiju for us,” Momo says relaxed. You nod. “I know I was not a fan of his but I do appreciate his return. At least this once.”

You nod and say, “Well at least we can rest now.” Momo raises an eyebrow

“I’m feeling rejuvenated. We should spar.” Momo said shadowboxing your way. You smirked at her but eventually let her have her way. You follow her back to the HQ. The two of you badge to the surprise of the attendant waiting

“Oh, Mrs. Hirai good to see you.”

“Great to see you, Mina.” You wave at the attendant

“Good to see you Mrs Myuoi.” You say. The attendant who was also a frontline fighter on leave for mental health smiled

“Please Daihouzan you don’t have to call me that.”

“I do when you outrank me.” You tease

“Oh please we both know half our defense team wouldn’t be here without our “Friend-Father”” Mina fires back.

You shrug. “How’s Dahyun?” You ask.

“Oh, she’s good. She has been working hard for her next promotion so she can join us in the frontline fights. You should reach out she misses you.” You chuckle.

“She knows where my office is, and my open-door policy hasn’t changed.” Mina nodded and said that she’d tell Dahyun then. The two of you walk to a sparring room that should have been empty but was full with Drill Instructor Jihyo teaching a group of recruits. Jihyo’s stern facade instantly melts when she sees the two of you.

“Dai-San Momo Unnie.” Jihyo greets you and Momo with a smile. Momo and you hug Jihyo before she asks if you guys are looking to use this sparring room. Momo nods.

“Wow just like old times. I can’t believe it’s been 4 years since graduation.” Jihyo says. Momo and you have since reminded me of the slow creep of time never stops.

“Well I’m done with this class do the two of you have any advice for them?” You scratch your facial hair at the wide mix of students before saying “Learn Kaiju anatomy. It will increase your combat effectiveness with less expenditures of energy and resources. One well-timed hit at a Kaiju’s weak point will do more than 100 rounds of Arakami bullets.” Momo laughs at your correct statement.

“Stay well rested. Kaiju attacks can happen at any time and even though Hyperman has helped us with a lot of battles we can’t rely on him for every major battle.” Momo says Jihyo agrees with that more than your advice which stings a little since the two of you used to be so close. If you were the dad friend she was for sure the mom friend. but you didn’t hold it against her. As the class leaves Jihyo turns to the two of you and says, “Try not to tear the roof off this time.” You assure Jihyo that you’ll keep Momo in check

“Hey, it’s not my fault the new Kaiju weapon was so powerful,” Momo said defensively.

After that, it was just the two of you again. You get into a fighting stance. Momo looks at you surprised.

“That’s Hyperman’s fighting stance.” she says You shrug and Momo stops, “No you just can’t shrug that off,” Momo says. You worried your cover had been blown.

“Take this seriously. Hyperman’s style is sloppy and too showoffy.” Momo said. You stood there taken aback for a moment, not sure what was more surprising.

“Hey, he’s not lost a fight so he must be doing something right.” You challenge

Momo rolls her eyes again before saying “Fine have fun getting beat up.”

“You can try.” You say.

Her first attack is predictable. She opens with one of her famous kicks. You roll out of the way and trip her still-planted leg. She looks at you wide-eyed. You look at her and raise your hands. Momo's twin kicks to recover her footing. You back up and she does three flips to lead into a chop. You dodge and grab her arm before slamming her (gently) into the mat. You back up and retreat to your ready stance.

Momo was not lying when she was rejuvenated she came at you for 3 more hours of sparring. It went about the same as the beginning Momo would do an offensive move you’d block or dodge then gently reset to neutral. This frustrated Momo to no end making her sloppier and wilder as the match went on. Eventually, she grew tired of your guarded and defensive style. So she decided to adopt a mirror stance to yours instead of engaging she planted her two feet down. You smiled as she tried to taunt you into charging

“Come on make a move. You scared. See anyone can just durdle and play defensive.” She yelled. You smile and switch stances. Momo looks on in concern. You approach slowly. You make one strike which she guards but due to the sheer force, she still stumbles back. You give her time to recover. She makes a measured and calm strike. you block and make an open palm strike at her chest. She falls back. You wait for her to get up and change stances again. You begin to circle her slowly. She strikes at you with another powerful kick and you turn and return with a kick of your own, she received the hit and lands on her butt. She finally taps before you help her up. You turn back to see you have gained a crowd watching the two of you spar.

“Alright shows over,” Momo says as the two of you walk out.

The two of you arrive back at your apartment where you begin cooking again. Momo still having restless energy begins feeling you up while you cook.

“Ugh, I hate how good of a house husband you are,” she says

You turn to her confused

“It's an expression, don't they have those in America?” you hesitate as you nod as being “American” was your cover for the time being.

“It means you are good at doing stuff around the house. Considering how many times I haven't had to go hungry because of you looking out for me.

“So what's your point?”

“Oh come on. I'm not doing it for you. I have been practically throwing myself at you the last few months.”

“Oh well excuse me for remembering when you said. I like you but not like you as a friend.” You tease Momo. Momo smirks

“Can't a girl change her mind?” she cooks. You roll your eyes at her. Which causes her to smile before bringing you into a heavy kiss. What caused you to snap out of it was the burning sensation from the stove your hand was on.

“Ahhh. That hurts.” You grimace.

Mono smiles before saying, “I just wanted to give you a taste of what's to come.” to further her point she seductively puts her finger into the pan you are using where the food is and erotically takes a swipe before putting said finger in her mouth.

“Delicious as always.” Mom exaggerated before sashaying away. As her body moves you are mesmerized by the way her ass looks in her tight battle outfit. You feel the blood rush to your other head as try not to think about all of the less-than-virtuous things you'd do to her. You finish cooking without any disasters and set the table and food for Momo and you. “Momoring food is ready,” you say curious as to what she's doing.

Momo walks out of her room in her bra and underwear which isn't an uncommon occurrence. What she usually wears is a sports bra and boy shorts, but today she opted for a bold and brazen red and black lace lingerie set. You blink three times before your self-control shatters. You get up and kiss Momo with passion and emotional build-up you've had since you met her 4 years ago. When you break it her pupils have dilated so intensely there is hardly any brown left.

“Whoa someone is pent up.” Mom teases as she begins to caress your clothed erection.

“Shut up,” you say taking off your pants. Momo smiles. She even giggled when you picked her up, but that all changed when you put her in a mating press. She groans as do you as you penetrate her for the first time

“Ahh ugh.” she moans luridly

You begin to thrust and Momo yells “Oh god yes. This cock is filling my tight pussy so well.”

“Oh you like it?” you tease

Momo moans as you fill her, “God I love it. Why have you been hiding this cock from me for so long?” as you thrust her womanhood clenches your manhood with the clinginess of an anxious lover.

“You're so tight Momoring, why are you worried I'm going leave you.”

Mom turns to her face to you. Those gorgeous brown eyes glare fiery and passionate.

“I guarantee I gotcha.” she purrs before initiating a torrid kiss. She regains dominance over you by forcing her tongue down your mouth when you break the kiss she smiles caressing your face. “Cum for me honey.” she teases causing you to erupt violently within her walls. You scream from the intensity of the orgasm. When you regain your senses you set Momo down and you use the countertop to steady you. Mom stares you down as she dips a finger into her pussy where your cum is trailing out of her. She smiles and traces a line of semen with her finger before bringing it up to lick it.

“Hm, you taste good as well,” Momo says with a voice made husky by the overwhelming erotic pleasure she felt. You give her the time-out gesture which makes her laugh. She sits down to eat the food you made with a smug grin.

“Don't tell me you're all tuckered out,” Momo says with a mischievous tone.

“Listen when you have 4 years of emotional catharsis built up and then released by your unrequited lover then you can talk.” you fire back. Which causes Momo to take a step back,

“Wait we've known each other 4 years?” she says confused

“Yeah I know I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you, but how could I not? You came into my life like a battle angel, full combat gear the mecha suit wings. It was stunning.”

Mom smirks then smiles you sit down and begin eating with her.

“So you have liked me all this time?” she asks again. You nod before she gets up walks over to you and starts stroking you to hardness. When you're aching again she plants herself back on you. You groan still sensitive from the last time.

“Tell me what you love about me!” she demanded as she began to ride you with a tortuously glacial pace.

“I love your tenacity and enthusiasm for your craft. You work so hard and it just fills me with pride and admiration for you,” you respond. Momo speeds up

“More.” she moans

“You also aren't consumed by the job you still maintain your identity in all of this and it makes me ahh,” you say as you trail off her pussy is dripping wet but she is still oppressively tight if not tighter with each praise from your mouth.

“Come on I’m almost there.” she groans as she expertly grinds over your cock.

“You're such a good girl, you are so kind and helpful to all of those around you,” you say also nearing another climax as she continues to bounce on top of you. You do notice an intense string of tightness from Momo when you call her a good girl so you go all in

“Oh, you like being my good girl? (her pussy vice grips you driving you feral) well, I like you being my good girl too. (you squeeze her ass) My good girl has the nicest ass. My good girl has the prettiest brown eyes and the tightest pussy.” that last line sent her over the cliff and she exploded all over you.

“Oh god. Oh god, I'm cumming” she moaned as she came. You feel her squirt all over you and her pussy attempt to milk you for all its worth. As her orgasm raged on she continued riding you before saying “Come on baby cum for me I need it.” her words set off a cascading effect causing your second orgasm and pushing her into another one of hers. As the two of you cum for what feels like hours (it's actually like 7 minutes.) the two of you make out and paw at the other desperate to keep the high going.

When the two of your bodies finally calm down Momo asks, “Do you have any of your kaiju clean-up supplies? Because we made quite a mess.” you roll your eyes, and she gives a hearty laugh.

[memphisflash]

𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑇𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 8,9K

Summary: Visiting your sister and her boyfriend in Hawaii, you find yourself falling harder and deeper for your brother-in-law. And it seems like Elvis can't resist you either...

Warnings: club singer!elvis, mentions of/infidelity, arguing, lil bit of angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, reader pining over Elvis, reader being in love with her sister's boyfriend, mention of reader being slim, smut; unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f. receiving), size kink-ish.

A/N: This used to be a piece of writing called "Little Sister" I wrote a long time ago on my old account, but I changed a few things (mostly in the smutty part) and wanted to share it again. Was inspired by a very nsfw gif I saw (seriously, don't look at the gif that's linked if there's people around you) and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so here we are. ;) There's more to it than the summary entails, and beware of the shitty written ending because y'all know I hate writing endings.

Masterlist

Your heart was racing as you were dragging your suitcase along through the airport of Honolulu.

Finally your parents had allowed you to visit your older sister who lived and worked in Hawaii during your four weeks of summer holidays and you were beyond excited.

Excited to leave the stress of deadlines and annoying frat boys behind and settle in a new environment for a few weeks.

The fact that you would be seeing Elvis Presley, your brother in law, again certainly had nothing to do with the excitement you felt tingling in your stomach. At least, that’s what you told yourself and the longer you’d deny your feelings toward him, the more you’d start to believe your own lies.

That was until you were face to face with him again─it was much easier to hide your feelings toward him from a different state.

And the fact that you and him kissed a year ago didn’t really help your nerves to see him again either.

It happened while you were both drunk and neither of you had spoken a word about it, but it did happen and after the hangover from hell you fought off that next morning, it was all you could think about.

Luckily for you, your sister and her boyfriend moved to Hawaii not even a week later and maybe if they wouldn’t have, you would’ve never kissed him. It’s not like you thought you’d never see him again, but you just figured that your sister was too busy with her new job as a tour guide and wouldn’t invite you and your parents over until Christmas time. Seemed like Tracy missed you more than you expected, as she had basically begged you to come live with her for those few weeks of your summer break─she even managed to convince your parents to come alone.

Despite you being 20, they were still overprotective over you. Your sister was only three years older, but she had always been a bit more of a rebel, not caring that your parents weren’t too happy with her moving all the way to Hawaii with a man she had only been dating for a few weeks at that time. Apparently things between Elvis and her were still well, seeing they had passed their one year anniversary a few weeks ago.

“Welcome to Hawaii, little one,” Elvis greeted you with a wide smile on his face as you stepped out of the airport, trying to ignore the heat surrounding you as if you just stepped into a sauna.

Your heart did about ten somersaults against your ribcage and you were pretty sure your cheeks were flushed. If Elvis noticed your state of slight shock, he didn’t comment on it and instead, placed a colorful lei around your neck before he took your suitcase from you.

“Where’s Tracy? I thought she was picking me up,” you questioned curiously as you watched him open the trunk of his car to put your luggage in it. Your sister failed to tell you that her boyfriend was picking you up and to any normal person, that would’ve been fine, but you just had to fall for a guy that was already taken.

By your own sister, for crying out loud.

You had no idea how long the drive from the airport to your sisters’ apartment would be, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t survive even five minutes alone in a car with him.

The raven haired man shut the trunk and leaned his hands on it, feigning a shocked facial expression. “I thought you liked spending time with your brother,” he grinned, making sure you knew he was playing with you but it still made heat crawl up your neck and face.

You hated when he called himself your brother─the fantasies about him that plagued your mind at night certainly weren’t meant for a brother.

“She had to run some errands to get everything ready for you,” he then said, smiling at you as he opened the door of the passengers’ seat, looking at you. You inhaled some air, though it did nothing to loosen up the tightness you felt in your chest.

If the heat of the island wasn’t going to take you out, those stupid blue eyes of his definitely were.

“Alright,” you mumbled softly, flashing him a quick smile as you got in the car, making sure not to let the smell of his cologne make your mind go places it definitely shouldn’t be going.

“How is your work going? Do you like Hawaii?” you asked as he drove away from the airport and onto the high way.

You were nervous, but you were trying your best not to let it show and make him suspicious. You didn’t want him to think you accepted Tracy’s offer to come just for him, because even though that was one of the (main) reasons, you’d rather throw yourself out of the car than to have him know that.

He looked at you for a second with a little grin on his face before he turned back to the road, his arm casually leaning on the open window frame, fingertips tapping on the wheel.

“Hawaii is amazing, can’t even imagine myself going back anymore,” he laughed softly, which made you smile softly as you looked at the view ahead of you.

You’d missed the sound of his laugh.

You could understand why he didn’t wanted to go back. You had only seen the airport and some of the scenery from the high way, but it already felt like a place that was soothing for the soul. Beautiful weather, beautiful people and gorgeous nature all around─you couldn’t wait to see more of it.

“I’m sure you will love it just as much as we do,” he says and while you just smiled and nodded, but on the inside you were screaming.

We.

Elvis and Tracy─God, you could just bust your head through the window right there and then when the word rolled off of his tongue so casually.

So naturally.

You wanted to be part of that ‘we’, of that ‘us’.

Y/N and Elvis.

Elvis and Y/N.

You wanted it so bad.

“And work… is work,” he then adds, snapping you out of your thoughts, which honestly you were grateful for. You had to get rid off those feelings you carried toward him, but he was making it so damn hard.

Why did he have to look so good with that sunkissed skin, blue eyes and dark hair?

Before you were going to start to curse God for creating Elvis Presley, you snapped yourself out of it.

“You’re a singer in one of Honolulu’s most famous clubs, there’s gotta be more to it!” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

As he looked at you with a grin on his face and a hint of playfulness in his eyes, you immediately regretted what you had done.

He grabbed onto your knee and squeezed it, all-in good humor, but you felt as if electricity was shooting down your spine.

“Someone did her homework,” he laughed, lingering his fingertips on your knee for longer than necessary. Bare knee, might you add, seeing you were wearing shorts.

Oh, please Y/N.. control yourself.

“I was playin’. It’s fun, it’s real fun and it pays well. I’m definitely taking you there one of these days,” he smiles as he pulled his hand back nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just almost made you moan out loud over a small touch.

You looked at his side profile, the thought of him taking you out to a club out of all places, got you making up all kinds of scenario’s in your mind.

You cleared your throat a little, tugging some hair behind your ear as casually as you could.

“Y-Yeah, that sounds fun. If Tracy hasn’t planned out all of my days here,” you said, half joking, half serious.

With her being a tour guide, you were sure she had made an entire itinerary for you. You hoped not─wanting to just go with the flow with and without her, enjoying yourself rather than feeling like you had to follow a schedule.

“She usually doesn’t come to the club because she has early shifts,” he told you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at you before he looked back at the road and you chuckled softly, turning back to the gorgeous view to keep your thoughts about the gorgeous man next to you from going to very unholy places. “It’d be nice to have a familiar face cheering me on,” he said, shrugging his shoulders a little as he once again squeezed your knee.

He kept his hand there longer than before, making your skin feel like it was set on fire underneath his palm.

Once again, you just nodded and smiled.

 

When you finally stepped inside your sister and Elvis’, unfortunately, shared apartment you felt like you could breathe like a sane person again. Tracy ran out of the kitchen and into the living area Elvis took you in, engulfing you into a tight and warm embrace before you could even get out one word.

“My baby! I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed in excitement and you laughed, hugging her back just as tight.

“You’re only three years older, shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully as you pulled back from the embrace and she grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks softly.

“Ssssh, you’re still my little baby,” she shushed you, laughing when you swatted her hands away as she took you to the kitchen, handing you a drink. When she showed you the stocked up fridge and guest bedroom she cleaned spotless especially for you, you couldn’t help but feel guilt settle in your stomach.

You mind wandered back to a year ago when you and Elvis kissed at that stupid party, not even ten minutes after Tracy left it, and part of you just wanted to blurt it out and come clean. You had always been close to your sister and you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you would become between her and her boyfriend.

A week in Hawaii went by and Tracy nor Elvis had spend any time with you. You had dinner with both of them the day you arrived, but after that you were pretty much on your own─you didn’t mind that much, seeing you loved exploring on your own just as much.

But whenever Tracy and Elvis were home at the same time, you felt some kind of weird tension between them.

You weren’t an absolute idiot and could see when your sister was hiding something from you.

As Sunday evening rolled around, your peaceful sunny vacation was interrupted by a hurricane.

And it went by the name of Elvis.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Trace! I literally saw you yesterday,” you heard Elvis yell from the living room and you froze in your spot, watching the sunset on the windowsill seat in the guest bedroom.

“You always say you’re working, working, working,” he continued and you quickly tiptoed to the record player that was playing softly on top of the dresser, interrupting Aretha Franklin mid song. You walked over to the door and pressed your ear against it, holding your breath as you shamelessly eavesdropped on your sister and her boyfriend arguing.

“I didn’t know sticking your tongue down the throat of some wall street jerk was on the list of a tour guide’s job descriptions,” he spat at her and you heard her gasp, followed by a scoff and even though you couldn’t see her, you were absolutely sure she was crossing her arms like a child right now.

She kept her mouth shut though, and Elvis continued his little rant.

“I forgave you the first time, because it was only a week after we came to Hawaii. A week, Tracy! But you’re just never gonna change, are ya?”

You could hear his voice cracking at the end, desperation lingering on the back of his tongue and you felt your stomach tightening at his words, feeling bad for him.

Your sister was a free spirit, a soul that wasn’t meant to be bound down by one person─before Elvis, she dated someone new every month, sometimes every weekend, sometimes even multiple people at the same time.

Apparently, things between her and Elvis weren’t going so well as you had thought.

“You just like the attention too much and you’ll do anything to get it, no matter who you fuckin’ hurt in the process,” he sighed deeply and still Tracy didn’t say a word. He seemed to take her silence for an answer because you heard footsteps striding down the hall and their bedroom door slamming shut. A few minutes later, you heard the same door opening again and Elvis’s annoyed voice telling Tracy he was leaving.

As he passed by the guest bedroom, you ran over to the bed and jumped down onto it, grasping one of your magazines from the bedside table to pretend you were reading it.

You’d kinda been expecting the knock but it still made your heart thump wildly in your ears. You tried to sound as casually as you could when you granted Elvis access to the room, hoping he didn’t hear the slight tremble in your voice.

“Hey, little one,” he sighed softly, walking over to the bed as you turned around and slowly sat up. You gave him a weak smile which he returned, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

“Sorry that happened. Are you okay?” you asked in a whisper, feeling a little uneasy about the fact that he was in your room alone while Tracy was in the living room.

He didn’t share the same uneasiness though, dropping the bag he had in his hand next to his feet as he ran his hands down his face.

“I will be,” he mumbled, leaning his elbows on his knees as he kept his face cupped in his hands. “Guess I’ve just been.. blind. Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve caught her kissing some rich stuck up dude and now that I’m thinkin’ about it, I doubt that first week in Hawaii was the first time she did somethin’ like this,” he sighed deeply, shaking his head in his hands a little.

You just sat there for a few seconds, but you couldn’t bare to see him like this.

Mad at your sister and feeling bad for Elvis, you moved to sit next to him and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, ignoring how good he smelled and how his body heat felt so incredibly comforting.

“Why.. did you stay with her when you knew?” you asked carefully, trying not to step on anyone’s toes here.

Rather than getting angry at you for being curious, after all he was the one who came into your room, he just shrugged and groaned deeply, letting himself fall back on your bed after you moved your arm to place a hand on his forearm.

“I don’t know,” he looked up at the ceiling, his hands resting on his chest. “I’m… I was in love,”

You swallowed thickly at his words, looking at the door that was wide open. You could hear Tracy moving around the living room and you quickly shot up from the bed as you heard the sound of her heels clicking down the hall way, giving her your most innocent smile as she appeared in the door opening.

You busied yourself with your record player that you’d placed atop of the dresser.

Rather than looking sad or distraught about the fight she had with her boyfriend, she looked angry.

Angry that she got caught, you thought bitterly to yourself.

She ignored Elvis’ presence and looked at you, smiling softly. “I’ll be staying at a friends’ house tonight, so he doesn’t have to leave. See you tomorrow, chick.”

Blowing you a hand kiss, she turned around and grabbed her purse, leaving the apartment and making sure she slammed the door extra loud for theatrics.

You sighed deeply as you rubbed your temples a little─even though it seemed Tracy brought this upon herself, you didn’t like to see your sister in the state she was in. You were sure the fight between her and Elvis hurt her, at least a little bit, and she wasn’t really helping the situation by going out to spend the night with God knows who. Or maybe you just didn’t know your sister as well as you thought.

You also weren’t happy with the fact that she left you alone with Elvis, even though that little voice in your head was telling you to take your chance now, heart jumping for joy. You wanted to jump his bones more than anything, but the rational part of your brain stopped you, reminding you that that would even be more terrible than what Tracy had been doing behind her boyfriends’ back.

“Maybe you two just need a night apart so you can talk things out. I’m sure everything will be fine tomorrow,” you told him, trying to sound hopeful, as you sat down on the edge of your bed.

You hated saying those words.

You didn’t want things to work out between them. And you were secretly hoping, no.. praying, that Tracy was on her way to one of her boy toys right now to fuck his brains out and forget all about Elvis.

The blue eyed man on your bed let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he put his arms under his head.

“Nah uh, I’m done talkin’. I’m not some random guy she can come home to after she’s done with her little play boys,” he scrunched up his nose at his choice of words, sighing deeply.

You stayed silent for a little bit, crawling up further on the bed so you were sitting next to his head now, looking down at him.

“To be fair,” you started, pulling your legs up to wrap your arms around them. “You kinda cheated on her too,” you blurted out, not knowing where you got the courage from to make out such a bold statement.

It was the truth, though.

He kissed you while he was dating Tracy─the fact that he was drunk while doing so and they hadn’t been together for very long wasn’t an excuse.

His eyes shot open, looking up at you as you looked down at him. A soft smile spread across his face as he noticed your eyes shifting down to his lips and you quickly looked away, which made him sit up immediately.

“I told her about that night,” he said casually and you widened your eyes, your jaw almost dropping to the damn floor.

“You WHAT?!” you exclaimed in shock and he bit his tongue to try not to laugh at the shocked face expression you were wearing.

“It slipped out, alright? I just made up some lame excuse and told her I thought you were her because I was so damn drunk and she believed it,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you gasped softly, getting up from the bed.

Rushing your hands through your hair, you paced back and forth in front of him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

You shook your head, placing your hands on your hips as you came to a stop in front of him.

“You can say whatever you want, but I don’t regret that kiss, Y/N. She was still messin’ around with other guys at that time and I’m a jealous motherfucker,” he smirked as he leaned his hands on the bed behind him and you tried not to look down at his thighs as he manspread so shamelessly and so confidently.

“So, what? You only kissed me because you wanted revenge on my sister? Make her jealous?” you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly in front of your chest. Elvis couldn’t help but chuckle as he thought about how similar yet different you and Tracy were. “I mean, not that I care, because it didn’t mean anything.” you quickly added, looking away from him.

He raised an eyebrow and sat up a little again, reaching his hands out to place them on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

You had to bite your tongue to hold back a squeak, your body feeling like it was set aflame when you were standing in between his long legs, your knees hitting the bed.

“Now I know that’s not true, little one,” he whispered, looking up at you with that damned smirk, hands slowly moving down the fabric of the sleeping shorts you were wearing. “I think you care more than you like to admit,” he hummed and as you felt his fingertips coming into contact with your bare skin, you found the strength in yourself to swat his hands away and take a step back, inhaling a deep breath of air.

“You’re wrong, Elvis. We kissed because we were drunk and that’s it.”

“No,” he said, his voice dropping a few octaves as he was up and in front of you, looking down at you with a small smirk on his face.

No matter how many steps you took backwards, you couldn’t escape him─your hands flew to the edge of the dresser that met your lower back and dug your nails into the wood nervously, ignoring how your heart beat was thumping in your ears.

“We kissed because there was somethin’ there. I felt it and I know you did too,” he stated boldly and you clenched your jaw so hard you wouldn’t be surprised it would dislocate.

All your senses were on high alert when his eyes were drawn to your lips, leaning in closer to you.

You knew his words were true.

There was something, a pull that always drew you closer to him and him to you.

The day Tracy brought him back to the house for dinner with your parents you were already laughing and joking with him. At first, you thought it was just innocent, as did he. Until feelings started to grow, until that damned kiss.

He knew that he wasn’t any better than Tracy in this moment, but now that he was so close to you that he could smell the scent of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off of your body, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

A soft gasp left your mouth as he crashed his lips onto yours and he could feel you freeze for a second, until he slid his tongue across your lower lip. You were quick to grant him the access he wanted and deepened the kiss, your arms flying around his neck. He groaned softly as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hand pressed against your back to push you up against his chest.

Alarm bells were going off in your head, but the butterflies that had errupted aggressively in your stomach made you ignore them. You were getting lost in his kiss, touch, scent and could barely think straight as he moved his knee between your legs, lifting it up to press against you.

Even though you were wearing your panties and shorts, your body immediately responded to him─getting so lost in his kiss, your hips started moving slowly, arousal growing as you grinded yourself on his knee. His hands moved to your hips, holding you down onto him firmly as he helped your movements along, groaning deeply in your mouth. You gasped softly and pulled from the kiss, eyes slowly fluttering open.

As he looked at you with a soft grin tugging at his lips, blue eyes twinkling with a mixture of arousal and mischievous, you suddenly realised what you were doing, and with who, and quickly placed your hands against his shoulders, pushing him off of you.

“I can’t… W-we can’t do this, Elvis,” you breathed out in shock, rushing a hand through your hair as you pushed yourself to stand straight, not giving him a chance to speak as you ran out of the room.

You slipped into your shoes by the door, grasping your denim jacket before you left the apartment in a hurry─you had absolutely no idea where you were going, but you needed some time alone.

Time away from Elvis and his abilities to only make you fall for him harder than you should’ve in the first place.

 

Another week had passed and you hadn’t seen Elvis since that night.

He was gone by the time you came back to the apartment and every time he’d come by to pick up his things, you’d hide out on the balcony with some of Tracy’s friends that seemed to be coming over to hang out more and more, or you were out and about, exploring Honolulu.

You still had not told Tracy about what happened and you also hadn’t talked to her about the fact that she did know about you and Elvis kissing back at home. She also did not mention it and you couldn’t help but feel awkward whenever you were alone with her.

You felt like you were walking on egg shells 24/7.

Your sister either didn’t feel it herself or didn’t comment on it and continued as she always did─she didn’t seem as bothered by the break up as she should, filling up any voids with those ‘wall street jerks’ as Elvis had called them.

Rich, preppy guys that came from New York to Hawaii for business, but were too busy with pleasure instead.

Tracy seemed to have a thing for them, but you hated them. When Tracy arranged a date with one of them for you, you were livid at her but you knew she wouldn’t drop it until you’d say yes, so you eventually accepted just so you wouldn’t have to listen to her going on and on about how much of a great guy this one was.

The wall street guy, going by the name of David, took you to a nightclub named The Clouds. The most current famous one on the whole island, thanks to a certain dark haired blue eyed man you were definitely not ready to face any time soon.

None of your excuses worked on David and he barely listened to you, seeming adamant to get inside of the place. The whole time you were standing in line to get in you were praying to every God that was out there, that Elvis wouldn’t be working tonight.

Maybe it was his night off and he was hanging out with his friends somewhere else, or maybe he had a cold and was sick in bed.

As always, the universe didn’t listen to you and you didn’t even gave yourself a chance to look at the pretty and fancy interior of the place, your eyes glued to the man on the stage, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

His hair was perfectly slicked back, the all black suit he was wearing looking so goddamn gorgeous with that flawless sunkissed skin and bedroom eyes that had every lady in the place hanging on the edge of their seat.

You didn’t even stop your date as he slipped his hand into yours and guided you through a small crowd of dancing people, finding you two a table. While he spotted one and tugged you along, all you could do was stare at Elvis and let your knees grow weaker by the second. Tracy was nowhere on your mind and David sure as hell wasn’t either─until the blonde man snapped you out of it by pulling your chair out and releasing your hand. You looked at him with a confused look on your face, reality slowly creeping its way back in.

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he?” He yelled over the music as you both were seated, pointing a casual thumb Elvis’ way on the stage.

You flashed him a quick smile and nodded, thanking the Heavens when a waitress swung by your table to take your order.

You ordered the strongest cocktail on the menu and tried to engage in conversation with the man in front of you, but the fact that the man you actually loved was catching the attention of all those beautiful girls on the dance floor and David only talked about numbers and money didn’t help to make this evening at least somewhat eventful at all.

You were bored out of your mind, so you decided to seek comfort in your trusty new friend for the evening─your fourth martini.

The slight buzz helped you to forget David’s stories as soon as he finished telling them and even though the man could see you weren’t having a good time, he wasn’t going to give up.

His big ego wouldn’t allow himself to have a failed date.

He grabbed your hand from across the table and you looked at him, squinting your eyes as he rubbed the back of your hand sweetly. He was talking to you─you could see his mouth moving, but your tipsy mind couldn’t make out the words he was actually saying. You bursted out in laughter, thinking it was the most hilarious thing ever and when the waitress came by again, you immediately ordered another round, not caring about David’s protest.

Elvis’ performance was done and when you noticed him hopping off of the stage and making his way to the bar, you looked at David and grabbed your clutch from the table, pointing a finger at him – not even knowing the reason for doing so. He reached his hands out to you when you swayed on your feet, ready to catch you.

It looked as if you were going to say something, but then seemed to forget about it and just laughed before you stumbled away from the seat, giggling at your own antics.

“I’ll have my drink at the bar, pretty lady!” you told the waitress who was still standing by your table and she just laughed as you hooked your arm through hers, letting her guide you to the bar, leaving a flabbergasted David behind.

The waitress left you behind at the bar for one of the bartenders to deal with you and you smiled sweetly at the man as he placed the martini you wanted in front of you. You rumbled through your clutch for a little bit, though before you could pay for your drink, you heard the bartender thanking the person who took his place next to you.

You frowned sassily as you looked up and at the person, letting out a scoff, even adding an eye roll for show. “I can pay for my own drinks, thank you very much,” you told the delicious piece of a human being that just paid for your drink.

Elvis chuckled softly, taking a sip of his own drink as he leaned against the bar with his body turned into your direction.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said teasingly, watching you messily shove your dollar bills back into your clutch. You blew a strand of hair out of your face and stole a cigarette out one of the small wooden boxes that stood on the bar for the people to take, lighting it with a match.

“Don’t you have to do your little dance up there to make aaall the girls swoon over you?” you mocked, throwing a sarcastic smile his way before you took a drag from the cigarette, leaving a lipstick print behind on the bud.

You were still extremely in love with him, but the amount of alcohol in your system made you mouthy─vodka had never been your best friend.

“If I saw right, you were enjoying it too, little one,” he hummed in your ear when he took a step closer to you, slipping his arm around your waist. You had to do your best not to leap into a coughing fit, quickly blowing out the smoke from between your lips. “What are you doin’ here with that greasy piggy bank?”

You ignored the way his fingertips were caressing your side through your dress and how deliciously his thumb was pressing at the side of your boob.

You looked at him, letting out a small scoff as you raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, are we?”

“I told ya I was,” he smirked, raising both his eyebrows once tauntingly and you looked over at David, whose eyes were glued on you and Elvis.

You quickly turned back to the man next to you and raised your hand, slapping his upper arm harshly.

“You could’ve called me, you know?!” you suddenly exclaimed, annoyance lacing your tongue, as you pushed him off of you. “Or even come to meet me somewhere. Am I so easy to toy with?”

Elvis put his drink down and moved back closer to you, pulling you flush against his chest as he had turned you to face him properly. You gasped softly, your cigarette nearly dropping from between your fingertips.

“You’re the one who keeps runnin’, beautiful,” he said with a small grin on his lips, staring you down. You didn’t look away, thanks to the liquid courage crawling through your veins, and placed your empty hand against his chest though didn’t push him away.

“What’re you gonna do when I kiss you again?” he whispered, though it was loud enough for you to hear him.

Your ears were ringing and your heart was beating so hard you were sure the bartender could hear it from where you were standing.

Your eyes traveled down to his lips and when his tongue swiped across his lower lip, you threw all caution to the wind and kissed him as if no one was watching. He took your cigarette out of your hand and placed it in one of the ash trays, wrapping his arms around you.

You had no idea what would happen if Tracy ever found out, but right now that was the last thing on your mind.

The vodka on your tongue was almost intoxicating to Elvis and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, sucking on your lower lip as his hands moved down to your ass, squeezing the flesh through the fabric of your dress shamelessly.

The music playing at the club and the sound of people chatting faded far away to the background as your mind filled with only Elvis, his presence and his taste.

He was just as far gone as you, trapping you in between him and the bar, not giving a damn about how obscene you two were being in public.

A loud cough seemed to snap both of you back to reality and when Elvis pulled away from your lips, you turned your head to your left and squinted your eyes a little at David, the intoxication of Elvis and the martini’s still heavy on your mind.

“Sorry, my guy. She’s just not that into you.” Elvis told the blonde male who was looking at both of you with angry eyes, growing even more annoyed when Elvis shrugged casually at his own statement. You hid your mouth behind your fingertips as you tried to hold back a laugh and David just shook his head a little, throwing some money on the bar to pay for the drinks before he turned around and left the club.

You wouldn’t even care if he’d report back to Tracy. Those were worries for later.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said, not caring how you were slurring your words a little. Elvis moved off of you a little bit to give you more space to move around as you took your drink and took a big gulp from it, handing him the glass with the last sip. He downed it in one go and put the glass back on the bar, slipping his hand into yours.

As the bartender noticed you two leaving, he jogged over to the end of the bar, yelling at Elvis how he still had another set to perform but Elvis just ignored him and pulled you through the crowd, out of the club.

You tried to keep up with him as he was running down the street, tugging you along with him as he laughed happily.

His laugh was contagious and you loved the sound of it more than anything in the world─wanted to hear it every second of the damn day.

 

“Where are we going?” you laughed as he was still running, knowing exactly where to go.

Even if he didn’t, you wouldn’t be worried.

You felt more than comfortable around him and you knew that he’d never let anything bad happen to you.

Your eyes fell down to where your bodies were connected by your intertwined fingers, your heart swelling as he looked over his shoulder with a bright smile on his face. Right here, in this exact moment, you felt the happiest you had ever been in your twenty years of life.

“My place,” he grinned as he stopped running, coming to a halt in front of an apartment complex right across Waikiki beach. “Well, it’s my friends’ place. I’m stayin’ with him for the time being,” he said, giving you a knowing look and you giggled softly, biting your lip as you followed him inside of the building.

He was all over you in the elevator and you were more than happy to allow it, but as the doors opened and he pulled you outside, fumbling with his key at the front door a little bit, you clung onto his arm.

“Is your friend home?”

“Nah, baby, he works as a bartender. Won’t be home until the morning,” he grinned at you, finally managing to get the key in and twist it, opening the door.

The slight nerves you felt melted away again and you pushed him against the nearest wall, throwing the door closed behind you.

You captured his lips in a sloppy kiss as your hands moved to the jacket of the suit he was wearing, opening the buttons with quick fingers before you pushed the fabric off of his shoulders. Pulling back from the kiss, you looked at him as he shrugged the jacket off, admiring how freaking good he looked in the black button up he wore underneath that jacket.

You hooked your fingers behind the fabric of his shirt where he had left the bottons open of it, ripping the shirt open completely. He gasped as he looked at you with wide surprised eyes as his buttons went flying through the entrance of the apartment but you didn’t give him the chance to make a comment on it as you ran your hands down his warm chest, nails scraping softly against his nipples.

He bit his lower lip and wrapped his large hands underneath your thighs─you took the hint and jumped, hooking your legs around his waist as he caught you with ease.

You grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily.

The both of you were too intoxicated with each other to even care about him stumbling into some things before he reached the guest bedroom where he was staying.

Your kiss got interrupted as he threw you on the bed and you looked at him, lifting your torso up a little by leaning your elbows on the bed, biting your lip as he took his ripped shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor. He kicked off his shoes before he quickly pulled off your pumps and leaned forward, his hands sliding up your thighs and underneath your dress as you were already kissing him again─open mouthed, sloppy kisses that didn’t take long for you to trail down his jawline and neck.

You could taste his cologne on your tongue and moaned softly against his skin, hands running up through his hair, messing up the wax that he had styled it so perfectly with.

He moaned softly as you sucked on his skin while his fingers hooked underneath your panties, sliding them down and you eagerly allowed him to do so.

If this would’ve happened in your sober state, you would’ve been a lot more shy, but you had been waiting for this moment for so long.

You had been craving him for so long, you just didn’t give a damn anymore.

You spread your legs willingly, exposing yourself to him completely and he slicked back some of his hair with the palm of his hand, hungry eyes admiring your arousal that was glistening in the dim moon light that shone through the room.

The view from the bedroom was gorgeous, but right now he was only interested in the view right in front of his face.

He got on his knees in front of the bed, pulling you closer to him by wrapping his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs spread open. He licked his lips as he shot you a quick wink, sending butterflies throughout your entire body and making your heart leap pathetically in your chest, before he leaned in closer.

The kisses he planted on your inner thighs, moving closer to where you needed him most, felt as if someone was keeping a lit match against your delicate skin.

You didn’t even try for one second to hold back as he placed a soft, tiny kiss right on your clit, letting out a needy whimper. You ran your hands through your hair to get some strands out of your face, not caring at all that you were messing up the updo you had perfected a few hours ago and when Elvis ran his tongue up between your wet folds, flicking at your clit once, you moaned lewdly.

He licked his lips as he lifted his head a little, grinning at you.

‘’Can’t believe I’ve been missin’ out on this for so long- you taste fuckin’ delicious,’’ he whispered teasingly, kissing your thigh once more before he leaned down in between your legs once more.

You were expecting him to tease you until the point of you losing your mind, but he had been waiting just as long for this as you had.

He went in with confidence as he ate you out like a starved man─pretty much making out with your pussy as if he hadn’t had human contact for years.

You were trying to move your hips to his rhythm, arching your back off of the bed but he trapped you by pushing you down with his hand on your lower abdomen, lips wrapping around your clit to suck on it as he looked up at you. He released your left thigh and slipped in two of his digits, making you look down at him and moan desperately as your eyes met his.

He grinned tauntingly as he stuck out his tongue, flicking it against your clit at an unholy speed as his fingers didn’t go easy on you either, pumping inside of you.

One of your hands flew to his hair, tangling your fingers in the raven locks, your other hand squeezing the sheets desperately until your knuckles turned white. Your moans were starting to become soundless, coming out in nothing other than a high pitched gasp or whine. The martini’s you had in the span of an hour or so were making your head spin, along with the orgasm that was fastly approaching.

He could tell you were close with how your walls were clenching around his fingers repeatedly, your hips desperately wanting to move away but he still had you trapped, unable for you to escape the sense of euphoria that was so close.

So close you could taste it, but before it came, he pulled away from you completely.

You gasped as you looked at him with wide eyes, wanting to protest until you saw him stand up and pull down his pants and boxershorts.

“Impatient, little one?” he grinned and you couldn’t help but shamelessly sneak a peek at his cock hitting his lower abdomen when it was freed out of the confinements of his clothing, tip red and sensitive, glistening with precum.

You bit your lip as you looked at him.

“Stop calling me that,” you said, a challenging tone on your tongue and he raised an eyebrow, following you on the bed as you pulled yourself further on it.

“What should I call you then, hmm?” he questioned back just as challenging, grinning teasingly at you as he pulled your dress over your head, throwing it to the other side of the bed. He leaned in closer to kiss your lips softly, creeping one hand behind your back─you arched a little, making it easier for him to unclasp your bra and remove it from your body as he pulled back from your lips.

“Anything but that,” you rolled your eyes, a soft blush creeping on your cheeks despite the confidence you had been feeling tonight.

He slipped his hand in between your bodies, aligning himself at your entrance, a soft gasp leaving your lips.

 “What would you like to be called, Y/N?” he hummed, pushing the tip in, keeping still inside of you.

Even though it was hard for him as well, because all he wanted to do was fill you up and fuck you into the mattress, he liked teasing you.

He liked seeing that cute little pout on your lips and those hazy eyes looking at him pleadingly, while your pussy seemed eager to suck him all the way in. And it was, you were, so desperate that it made you want to jump out of your skin.

You tried to push him in deeper by wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing your ankles against his lower back but he just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, raising a teasing eyebrow at you. “Use your words, little baby,”

The pet name he used to call you was cute, but you didn’t wanted him to see you like that anymore. You doubted he ever had though, but you hated it whenever it slipped past his lips now.

You huffed as you moved your hands up his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

 “Call me baby,” you whispered, trying to thrust your hips forward so you could surprise him, but it’s like he could predict every single one of your movements. He didn’t budge for one second, instead pulling out again, slipping the tip of his cock through your folds, circling against your clit. You moaned softly and looked up into his eyes, silently begging him to just fuck you already. “Call me yours,”

This seemed to send him over the edge and he lowered his cock to your entrance, pushing himself all the way in. You gasped and cursed softly at the, very much so delicious, intrusion. Your hands moved down to his shoulders again, holding onto him firmly as he gave you a few seconds to get used to him before he started thrusting into you, making you moan out in pleasure. He leaned his head down, kissing your neck sweetly.

“You’re mine, baby,” he grunted in your ear, hips picking up their pace more and more. You had your ankles hooked behind his back now, clinging onto him desperately as he was kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Maybe they were empty promises, you had no idea, but right now you were on cloud nine.

Finally in the arms of the man you had loved so dearly in silence for so long.

“You’re all mine,” he whispered, pulling his head back to look down at you. He kissed your lips sweetly and you whined a little as it ended way too soon when he pulled back after a minute and sat back, his knees pressed into the mattress.

It only took a second for him to sink back into you.

His thrusts slowed down as he gently grabbed your thighs and spread them, watching the way his cock disappeared inside of you with every thrust forward and took some of your slick with him with every trust back. You were so gorgeous laying there on his bed, little moans that sounded like the sweetest melody leaving your mouth.

The moment felt extremely intimate, especially with how deep he was reaching, softly hitting your g-spot.

“Fuck, that’s hot. Look at that, baby,” he groaned and you followed his line of sight, moaning at the sight of his cock head bulging in your tummy. He pushed forward and kept still for a little bit, cursing softly as you caressed your hands across your lower abdomen and over the bulge.

You hadn’t slept with many guys, but you’d never experienced this before. It was either because you were slim or because Elvis’ cock was a very good size – more likely, it was probably the cause of both those things.

Elvis was mesmerized, keeping his thrusts slow but firm, eager to see your tummy bulging over and over again.

You moaned as you move your hand on top of the bulge and Elvis grinned a little, gently placing his hand atop of yours so you’d keep it there. “Mmm, baby,” he grunted, his eyes staring into yours. “Feel that? You're so tiny I fill up your entire lil’ tummy- goddamnit, honey..”

His words, the sight of his cock rearranging your insides and the feeling of having him so deep – it was all so delicious that you could barely speak.

The love you felt for this man was completely consuming you and you had no intentions to fight off those feelings anymore. To hell with everyone, you needed him and only him.

“S-So deep...” you stuttered out a moan as you removed your hand, the both of you looking at the way he was filling you up completely.

The sight was sinful, yet so intimate at the same time too. Your bodies fit together like a piece of a puzzle that had been missing all your life and perhaps it was because of the alcohol in your system that you were thinking this man’s soul had a connection to yours, but you believed it.

It sure as hell felt like it.

Elvis continued his slow pace for a little bit until he felt your eager hands roam up his arms and over his shoulders, pleading eyes staring up at him, and your pussy clamping down on his cock.

Once more you could sense that feeling of bliss approaching and he quickly picked up the pace, growling deeply. He looked down into your eyes intensely as his eyebrows knitted together in concetration, hips skilfully thrusting as he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him desperately, keeping him trapped inside of you.

‘’Oh, f-f-uck,’’ he cursed with a grunt, teeth sinking into his lower lip for a second. ‘’I’m g-gonna cum if you keep doin' that,’’ he warned and you just grinned, being drunk on him, letting your own orgasm rip through you.

He moaned as you were sucking him in even harder during your orgasm and he thrusted harder for a few more times, before he quickly pulled out of you and grabbed onto your thighs, spurts of warm cum landing on your stomach. You reached down to wrap your hand around him, squeezing out every last drop.

His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, head thrown back as his hips stuttered pathetically, moans rolling off of his tongue. You gasped softly at the sight, breathing heavily as he fell down on the bed next to you.

The both of you laid silently for a few minutes, staring up at the ceiling to catch your breath.

“Tracy is gonna kill me,” you whispered, placing a hand on your forehead.

You cringed at the thought of Tracy finding out about what happened between you and Elvis─you had no idea if you were even going to tell her, but you kind of felt like you had to.

Besides, they broke up, right?

He was a single man and she seemed to be having her own fun with the men on this island.

She’ll get over it.

Elvis turned his head into your direction and you did the same, meeting his eyes.

“What if you stay here?” he asked softly, moving a little closer to you to plant a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“Yeah, I can stay here tonight,”

“No, not tonight,” he said, and you frowned at him curiously. “I mean, yeah ofcourse you’re stayin’ tonight, but I’m talking about here. Hawaii. With me.”

The thought of you staying behind in Hawaii sounded exciting.

Way more than exciting.

Not even thinking about the fact that your sister would be on the same island, and you had college to go back to, you were sold on the idea as soon as he suggested it.

“I guess I can take a gap year?” you suggested, turning your head back to look up at the white boring ceiling.

Your parents were most definitely going to kill you, or get a heart attack upon hearing the news, but there was nothing else in the whole wide world you wanted more.

Except for maybe the dark haired man that was hovering above you again, smiling brightly as he attacked your face with kisses.

He didn’t even have to convince you further to take this leap of faith─tonight he made you his and you never ever wanted to hand that position to anyone else.

You were more than ready for whatever Hawaii would throw at you, as long as you had Elvis by your side.

taglist: @notstefaniepresley @peaceloveelvis @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab

[auteurdelabre]

Window Dressing: Chapter 1 - Dave York x f!Reader

Window Dressing

pairing: Dave York x F!Reader (NO use of y/n)

Story summary: Resolving to achieve professional success within the CIA you embark on a ruthless game of one-upmanship against your work nemesis Dave York, a rivalry that is complicated by your growing attraction to him.

[AU - Dave is divorced and he still works for the CIA because I want our suburban murder daddy have a nice life. ]

Chapter summary: When the CIA director offers up an opportunity for field work you jump at the chance. Too bad your work nemesis and colleague is just as excited for the position.

Chapter Tags: Enemies to lovers, colleagues, work jargon, nicknames, mentions of divorce, disrespect.

a/n: I just finished my yearly rewatch of The Hating Game (y’all don’t come for me, my job is stressful and I like to decompress with something silly). And all I could think of was an MC and Dave in a similar situation and before I knew it the first chapter was already written. It’s gonna be cute and since its me there’s gonna be smut but unlike me, not a ton of angst. Don’t look to close at the CIA details because your girl don’t know shit about it. Just go with the romantic-comedy vibrations.  

Chapter 1: CodeBook

Codebook: A list of plain language words opposite their codeword or codenumber.

Working at the CIA isn’t that much different from a normal day job as most people think.

You go to work in the subway along with everyone else. You read your paperback of the week sipping overpriced coffee and trying to ignore the stench of unwashed masses that dot the DC metro.

You wear comfortable shoes and pilled sweaters and your hair frizzes in the rain. You don’t look any different from anyone else that walks the terrain on their way to their Monday to Friday job. You start at eight am and end at five, unless a job requires you stay later.

Much like most offices with a lot of moving pieces, a majority of your job involves paperwork, worrying about schedules, IT problems, editing reports and more. It’s not as glamorous as the TV shows make it out to be. You are not Claire Danes in Homeland no matter how much you wish you were.

You wear a lanyard that holds a plastic square with your name and face on it that you scan at the entrance. Every morning you wave and say good morning to Dennis, the head of security at the front before slipping him a donut you got along with your coffee.

“You’re too good to me,” Dennis murmurs as you hand it to him.

You just smile. Dennis was one of the first people you met here at Headquarters and you have nothing but good things to say about him. He was kind and patient when everyone else rolled their eyes murmuring about the new hire.

The similarities to another corporate office might be that the coffee sucks and there are definitely cliques within workers. Considering you’re all in different departments this isn’t really much of a shock. Some of your departments overlap with one another, especially if there’s a potential high profile target.

You nod and smile at colleagues as you pass them on your way to the Operations department, ignoring the way many of them look more anxious than usual. This isn’t a surprise given what you saw on the news this morning.

You take the elevator down several floors before exiting and spotting a familiar slender figure perched on the edge of your desk. His hair is combed to either side of his pinched face and behind his thick framed glasses he looks like he’s analyzing something, as he always is.

“Hey Otis,” you say cheerfully as you lay down your purse at your desk.

Your desk is one of the few places in the world that feels uniquely you. You’ve decorated it with a pink stapler, purple and blue paper clips. Your folders are gold striped. Your desk itself is littered with a collection of tchotchkes from over the years, none more impressive than your rubber duck collection.

Otis pats one of your rubber ducks swiftly before standing and giving you a formal nod.

“Morning. I was just dropping some papers off and couldn’t help but notice you’ve added to your collection.”

You smile, nodding as you motion to your latest acquisition; a rubber duck playing the saxophone and wearing sunglasses. All the way from New Orleans and from a very competitive bidder on Ebay. But it was worth it to have your little jazz quacker sitting proudly with the others that line your desk.

Otis is one of the few people at work that doesn’t seem to be bothered by much. He does his job well and he always has an interesting fact to share. Well, interesting to him anyway.

Otis also likes to hover around your desk in the mornings for a chance to interact with your co-worker Priya. The prettiest girl at the CIA and the nicest. She brings in cupcakes for your entire team during holidays. She loves to laugh at everything you say, which makes you like her even more.  She’s also wickedly smart and even faster than you at translation (which is saying something).  As if on cue, you see her stumbling into the office with a coffee stain on her pale blue blouse.

“Damn potholes,” she mutters angrily, throwing her bag and onto her desk and giving her version of a frown, which is the equivalent to a kitten mewling for the first time.

“Morning Priya,” Otis says, his pale cheekbones pinking. You smirk, trying not to watch as their awkward flirtation commences.

“Morning Otis,” she replies cheerfully before organizing her desk for the day. “You have a good weekend?”

“Very,” Otis nods. You watch one of his long fingers tap along the head of your police officer duck nervously. “Uh, was watching a documentary on Jack the Ripper. Very intriguing.”

“Oh yeah,” Priya nods politely, her eyes on her computer as she boots it up for the day. You’re saved from the uncomfortable interaction by the sound of a female voice ringing out behind you. A voice that makes you sit straighter in your seat as you swivel your chair to face her.

She’s a fierce-looking Asian woman with short cropped hair and deep plum lipstick. All of her black blazers are tailored perfectly to her slender body and despite her diminutive stature you know she could kick anyone’s ass here.

“Meeting in five in Boardroom B,” Mina says to the crowd of arriving staff.  “Don’t be late.”

She strides from you all, heels clicking against the tiled floor and the room seems to exhale in tandem. She’s terrifying. She’s amazing.

Mina Crawford is the Director for field officers and counter intelligence. She’s a former Clandestine Service officer and one of the few living recipients of the Intelligence Star. Basically, she’s your hero. And you want to follow in her footsteps because from what you’ve gathered she used to be in your exact position as a Languages Officer.

“She’s so cool,” you practically swoon.

“Ask her to be your mentor,” Priya insists for the fiftieth time.

“That would be humiliating,” you reply, as you always do. “I’m too old for a mentor.”

“No one is too old for a mentor,” Priya insists.

“You see that stuff on the news last night?”

“The parliament member in Lebanon?” Priya nods, dropping her voice quietly.

“I think they’re going to send someone into the field,” you say trying not to sound excited. “Someone with language experience.”

“You think?”

“Think about it,” you reason. “All the higher profile killings have been in places with very little English. Stands to reason they would send a Language Officer out.”

“Even with no field experience?” Otis asks. He looks doubtful which makes you frustrated. If Otis doesn’t think it’s gonna happen there’s a good chance it won’t. Brenda, a cheerful-looking woman in her fifties takes her seat in the desk next to you.

“Gotta learn somehow,” you shrug. “But maybe they’d team them up with a senior Agent or something.”

Priya is about to reply when her large eyes go over your shoulder and she grimaces. 

 “Here they come.”

You, Priya and Otis glance over to see eyes the crowd of suited men and women murmuring gently to themselves.

The Protective Officers.

If this was highschool they’d be the popular kids. Getting to go on glamorous field missions, being right in the heart of the action. All are good with their weapons, all look like they stepped off the pages of some high end catalogue because their paycheques far outweigh your own. Several of the younger men chuckle loudly, giving off the energy of an American Psycho Fraternity.

“Assholes like that get to go to foreign countries, to experience life all over the globe and we’re stuck here,” you grimace, typing your Algeria field notes later that day. “I can’t stand it.”

 “I would hate to be in the field,” Brenda says with a theatrical shudder from beside you. “I like the safety of the desk.”

“That’s not why I went through basic training with an emphasis on stalk training,” you insist. You worked your ass off in training, making sure that you were as prepared as anyone else.  While officers are rarely trained in weaponry or hand-to-hand combat you’d requested it.  Worked earlier and stayed later if it meant a chance to learn more.

And now these chuckle-fucks come in with swinging dicks and they get all the glory. Two of them walk by you towards the coffee maker.

“And she was high key the best I’ve ever had,” one says to a man with perfect teeth.

“You have no rizz,” the younger man replies with a boisterous laugh. “How the fuck you pull that off?”

Jesus.

“You know I speak Russian, Spanish, Arabic and a handful of others and I will never be able to unravel the elusive bro code of the Protective Officers,” you muse dryly as you roll back in your chair.  Otis smirks and Priya laughs behind her coffee mug, drawing the attention of several of the agents including your bitter work rival: Dave York.

Dave York is the most annoying man you know at the CIA. He is a senior agent well-liked in the office and he gets along with almost everyone. You’re quite the same within your department. But the two of you? There’s no love lost there.

Dave saunters over to your desk and you spin back around to face your computer. You have no desire to be caught up in a verbal sparring match today. You have to be focused for the meeting in case there is the offer of putting newbies into the field. It’s something you’ve dreamed about since you started here five years ago.

“Been to any fun graveyards lately, Parsons?” Dave offers with a touch of humor in his deep, rasping voice. A voice that you find impossibly grating. It’s like having your ears run over by a gravel truck.

“Actually yes,” Otis says with a bracing smile. “One in New Orleans just proved very useful.”

Otis Parsons is a Ghoul which means he parses obits and graveyards for deceased individuals agents can use for aliases. He enjoys his job more than most and with his severe eye contact and strangely chilling manner of speaking you can see why some are put off. You happen to think he’s hilarious in an eerie, Crispin Glover sort of way.

“Parker, I need these tapes from Algeria parsed,” Dave says flatly, tossing a file onto your desk without so much as a hello.

Your name isn’t Parker, neither first nor last. It’s a nickname given to you (unwillingly) by the tall man with dark eyes who looks down at you with a trace of amusement along his full mouth.

It’s what started this whole antagonistic relationship if you’re honest. Your first day on the job being introduced to the agency. Meeting every department head, learning names, faces. When you met Dave you’d been charmed by his winning smile, shaking his hand politely and even thinking distantly that if he weren’t wearing a wedding ring he’d be just your type with his soulful brown eyes and pouty mouth.

But then your eyes had slid to the large board on the wall, the one covered in newspaper clippings and strings and you’d started asking questions about the case. Your excitement had been evident; the questions pelted at a bemused looking Dave who scanned you from head to toe and announced that you were a Nosy Parker before excusing himself.

You hadn’t known what that meant and had offered a weak shrug in return before being whisked into the next department. When you’d returned home that evening and were able to use your phone you saw the definition pulled up on Google and you winced.

noun derogatory•informal noun: nosy parker; plural noun: nosy parkers; noun: nosey parker; plural noun: nosey parkers an overly inquisitive person.

You’d been embarrassed at being called that during your first day on the job in front of your superior. It made the following months tense as you navigated your position, learning from the woman Brenda whose job you were taking over. It made you second guess yourself every time you wanted to ask a question.  It wasn’t until Priya started and she’d asked all the same questions and been answered with level kindness that you’d realized asking questions wasn’t nosy or annoying, it was how everyone learned.

Dave York has called you Parker ever since that day and you have hated him every time.  

And now he stands beside your desk looking like some glorified accountant in his tailored suit shooting a supercilious look your way. He always wears shades of blue; navy, cobalt, baby blue and iceberg just to name a few. The worst part is it’s usually paired with a burgundy tie that clashes hideously. You know he’s not color blind, (you can’t be if you’re an agent), so you can only assume the choice is masculine ambivalence.

You open the file with a weary sigh. “Where in Algeria specifically?”  

“Isn’t that your job, Parker?”

“You have nothing else to go on?” you sneer up at him, opening the folder. “Some agent.”

“Officer,” Dave corrects with a smirk before resting his hands on either side of your desk, bent over so he can capture your eyes with his. You blink rapidly, noting that today he’s missed shaving a small spot on his sharp jaw. It’s barely noticeable and if he wasn’t this close you’d never have known. But he is this close and suddenly that’s all you can focus on.

“You’re right,” Dave says, voice dropping an octave. “It’s much better that I use my considerable talents sitting on my ass going through hours of audio that rarely ever turns out to be useful. My mistake.”

You’re not stupid. You know that those of you in the Language department are seen as lesser agents. Your knowledge in languages makes you an asset in the office, not necessarily in the field. And yet they would be nowhere without you.

“Considerable talents?” you scoff before glaring up at him. “Is that what your wife tells you? Spoiler alert, York, she has to say that since her lapse in judgment at the altar.”

The benign amusement flees from Dave’s face immediately. You wait for the biting retort, the angry reply, but are instead greeted with the sight of Dave clenching his jaw tightly. You see the muscle in his face tic angrily before he turns; broad shoulders rolling as he pushes from your desk and rejoins the other Protective Agents.

What the fuck was that?

You frown at his back, confused before looking back down at the folder. Otis has excused himself as well, likely heading back down to his department. He won’t be needed for the meeting this morning. You feel Priya’s eyes on you and your tilt your head to face her.

“What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Priya says with a concerned look on her beautiful face. “Him and his wife divorced last year.”

What the fuck? Since when?

For as long as you’ve known Dave York he has worn the same simple gold band on his left hand. You’ve even heard him talking about her in passing with other officers: Catherine or Carol? You know they’ve been married a while.

Since when is he divorced?

“What?” Your eyes blow wide at this, turning to your friend. “B-but he’s still wearing his ring!”

“Yeah,” Priya nods with a wince.

Fuck.

You don’t feel good about that. Dave is an asshole but you both know better than to get personal. You’ve never mentioned his wife until today and it turns out that was a good instinct on your part. Dave never mocks the fact that you go home every night to an empty apartment because even a goldfish was too much commitment for you, too much of a distraction from your work.

When the large group heads into the conference room you try to catch Dave’s eye and mouth an apology. But he’s already at the far side of the room with his agent buddies murmuring something and tapping away at his phone.

Mina stands at the podium waiting for everyone to take a seat and quiet down. Then she does and the briefing is similar to how it is most days lately. The assassin taking down members of parliament all over the world. The team doesn’t know if it’s an individual or an organization based on its sporadic movement.

“He’s targeting all higher profile members of senate across the globe,” Crawford says with a tired roll of her shoulders. “And from what I’ve seen they are extremely organized. Meticulous in knowing how far they can push without being caught.”

You scribble notes into your notebook while most of the group either types away on their phones or laptops. You’ve always found handwritten notes to be the best – they are less likely to be intercepted and written in your shorthand means that only you understand them.

You have a small code book included at the front, code names with numbers attached for people you work with. Priya is FFC0CB because she wears pink lipstick every Friday and that’s the hex code for pink. CG01 is Otis for his resemblance to a paler Crispin Glover. 00DH is Dave York and it stands for Double O Dick Head. You’d been particularly amused when you’d come up with that one.

You catch a pair of eyes on you and glance up down the table to see Dave watching your frenzied writing before giving the smallest shake of his head before he looks back at Mina.

“We’re putting together a team,” Mina says and this makes your head jerk up. “No details as of yet but there will be extensive travel involved so please let that influence your dedication and decision.”

Priya shoots you a look, one that says how did you know? And you try to tamp down the smile building there. It pays to pay attention, that’s how. You watch the patterns, you listen to the important silences that come between what’s said and you watch the news religiously.

“Considering the details on this we encourage individuals from all departments to apply,” Mina says eyes sailing over the crowd. You feel your stomach tighten pleasurably. This is just what you wanted. You just know you’d be an asset on this division.

“Deadline to submit is this Friday at five. That’s all. Good luck.”

The group dissolves and you and Priya make your way back to your desks. You’re on cloud nine, already formatting your CV in your head. Priya is yammering on about something but all you can focus on for that morning is the thought that you are going to be going into the field. You’re sure of it.

Its somewhere after lunch when the earlier conversation with Dave suddenly creeps back into your mind. It makes you feel uncomfortable and distracted. You don’t enjoy being cruel, it’s not in your nature.

It’s this which takes you to the elevator and down two floors to the department Dave works for. You walk through the fairly empty space with ease, jealous at how quiet it is with most of the officers out on jobs or doing field work.

Dave’s office is at the far end of the department and you see the door is ajar which means he’s in. Part of you is relieved, the other half disappointed. You’d half been hoping the room would stand empty and you’d be able to scribble some sad excuse for a note by way of apology. Writing an email would never be an option – too many eyes surveying everything that goes in and out of the office communication hubs.

. Dave is sitting behind his desk with a folder sat in front of him. His dark eyes jot to you as you enter. Unlike you, Dave has an entire office. It’s not massive, but it’s enough. However where you would have taken advantage to brighten up the space, it seems Dave is content enough to leave it looking like an empty shoe box. No family photos line his desk, no colorful knick knacks that give any indication about his personality. Nothing. Just flat, and dark and intimidating like his gaze.

There are two other officers sitting in the chairs across from him and they chat quietly, something you shouldn’t be overhearing and so you give a short knock before stepping into his office. The conversation is immediately dead and they swivel to glance over at you.

“Hey Dave,” you say grimacing. “I just wanted to-“

“You have the Algeria notes yet?”

“No,” you say holding in an eye roll. How did he expect you to have that information so quickly? He’s staring at you now, a file opened on his desk that he closes when you enter more fully into the office. Suddenly you feel wrong-footed, unsure of how to broach what you wanted to say since he’s surrounded by the other agents. He tilts back in his chair, arms crossed. Any mirth he usually reserves for you is gone.

“What do you want then?”

“It’s just… uh,” you say, suddenly aware of all the eyes of the other Protective Officers on you and you falter. You don’t want to have this conversation in front of everyone. “Do you have a sec? To talk in private?”

Dave rights his chair before fixing you with a dark look.

“How about you stop flitting around from department to department distracting people from trying to do real work?” He says sharply, his dark eyes narrowed. “Pretty sure Google translate could do your job and it would be a helluva lot less annoying.”

The other agents sitting near Dave exchange uncomfortable looks as you blink back at him. Irritation floods you, searing heat down the center of your chest. As he continues to glare at you there is the unmistakable sensation of your teeth grinding together angrily.

“You know what York? You can get Priya to do your translating from now on,” you spit, turning from him and heading into the empty hallway. Your cheeks are burning and you feet a pit in your stomach opening up.

Fuck you hate Dave sometimes.

You make your way to the elevator almost spitting. You wish for nothing more than to scrub Dave York from the face of the planet.

“Hey.”

Dave’s voice is a low rumble behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body inches from your back. But you pretend you haven’t heard him. The two of you load onto the elevator.

“Priya doesn’t speak Arabic,” Dave tells you like you’re not already very aware.

You continue to turn from him, not bothering to engage. You don’t have time to fight with Dave, you need to remember the name of your basic training officer to see if he’ll give you a letter of recommendation.

“You better be nice to me, Parker,” Dave says airily when you don’t reply. “Since everyone knows I’m going to be chosen for the mission.”

“You’re not going to be chosen for this one,” you snipe back at him, thankful there’s no one else in the confines of the elevator to witness how petulant you sound. “You have to be a team player for that. Everyone knows you like to fly solo.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” he taunts, large eyes fixed on the rising numbers glowing above the buttons. “And besides, who do you think Crawford likes better? Me; the decorated field officer? Or you, the Language Officer with too many yellow sweaters?”

You want to snap back at him but you have a moment of concern at his words. You’d never considered this entire thing would be a popularity contest. Dave gets way more face-to-face with Mina than you ever will just by virtue of his job.

And hey, what the fuck? You like your yellow sweaters. In a job that can be dull or depressing having a color like yellow popping around the office makes you happy. It makes you wish more of the officers stopped dressed in drab neutrals.

Without warning your hand reaches out, slapping the emergency stop button. The elevator jerks to a halt with Dave eyeing you from across the small space. He’s a trained officer and you wonder if his instinct to pull a gun is kicking in when you see his fingers twitch at his side.

“I’m tired of you calling me Parker and making fun of my sweaters and my job and everything else,” you snap.

“I’m tired of you pretending like you’re better than everyone in the entire operations department because you can speak a handful of languages.”

“More than a handful,” you bite back, offended. “I’m a goddam polyglot.”

“How amazing for you,” Dave replies dryly. He crosses his muscled arms over his broad chest and you can’t help but observe how wide his shoulders are when they strain under his suit jacket. He fixes you with a look halfway between irritation and amusement.

Everything with Dave is a game of chicken; who will get closest without giving up? He does the same thing with inter office politics, pushing you past your limit until you run off with your tail between your legs, just like earlier in his office.

“I want to make a deal.”

Dave’s interested in this immediately indicated by the small curl of his mouth. “Go on.”

“If I get chosen for this elite squad you need to stop calling me Parker,” you tell him. “You leave off about my clothes and you start treating me with respect.”

“I do respect you,” Dave insists, brows furrowed. “You think I’d let anyone else do my translations?”

“You just said Google Translate would do a better job than me in a room full of other officers.”

Dave gives a crooked smile and a careless half shrug. “Was a joke.”

“Wasn’t funny.”

You bite the inside of your cheek when you feel your eyes getting glossy. You don’t want him to mistake your angry tears for sad ones. It’ll make you look weak when in reality it’s your barely contained rage that boils over, making your face hot and your eyes misty.

Dave’s smile dims and he gives a nod. “Yeah. Fair. Sorry.”

The apology is new though, that’s a nice manipulative touch on his part.

You don’t say anything more, and even though you want to apologize for the joke about his wife something in your stubborn attitude forbids it. Makes it impossible to apologize to Dave’s smug face staring at you.

“Everything okay in there?”

 It’s the elevator repair team.  Dave gives you a look with a raised brow, almost like he’s letting you know that you’re inconveniencing a lot of people today, not just him. You shoulder past him, getting closer to the speakerbox.

“Sorry about that,” you say into it. “I hit the button by accident. All good here.”

The elevator starts up again and the two of you lapse into silence. Soon enough you’re at the right floor and you prepare to exit, your mind still stuck on how to get an edge over your competition when all you have is a CV.

“So what do I get if I win, Parker?” Dave asks, dark eyes scanning your face with bemusement clearly written there. “What if I’m chosen for the team?”

“We don’t need to worry about that,” you say as the elevator dings to a stop. “You won’t be.”

“If I win you get rid of those ridiculous rubber ducks on your desk,” Dave insists watching you exit the elevator. “And you have to do all my translations without complaint for an entire year. Even the boring shit your department makes the grunts do.”

You frown at the possibility of doing all of Dave’s interpretations and translations. That could easily pile up and make your long days even longer. But there is a challenge in his eyes, one that you find you can’t back down from. So as the elevators slowly close on his smirking face you nod.

“Fine. Deal.”

TAG LIST: @morallyinept @yorksgirl @drewharrisonwriter @missladym1981 @lovelvyxxx @getitoutofmymind @mountainsandmayhem @mellymbee @stevie75 @@sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @sptbear @madnessofadaydreamer @@lola8888673 @angiewatson @kennysbellbottoms @survivingandenduring @pastawench

[flugsammy]

"..A santa Hat?"

It was a tiring week.

Holidays in the Black Hat organization have never been of much value. And when they were celebrated, a hail of disaster settled over any fun. You always enjoyed these events, despite all the conflicts.

With the arrival of Christmas Eve this year, however, Black hat informed everyone that any type of celebration for Christmas was completely prohibited. This led to a bit of disappointment for everyone.

Demencia didn't know much about Christmas traditions, but she knew that there were gifts and a lot of food. That alone was enough to make her sulk like a little child after the cancellation.

Dr. Flug never really cared about Christmas, despite having certain affectionate memories about the date. But of course, that didn't stop him from giving gifts to his son, 5.0.5, every time the day arrived, and most importantly, a big hug.

December 25th.

The day finally had arrived!

At exactly midnight you had already received a hug from 5.0.5 in a secret celebration, and given Demencia a BIG squeeze. The girl always tried to bite you due to your clinginess, and this time it was no different.

You were positively surprised at yourself after managing to hand-make gifts for both of your co-workers! Your time was quite tight due to work, and let's say your salary wasn't really.. fair, for you to buy any gift

Surely, you had a lot of nerve to even mention the holiday, especially in the mood Black Hat was in.

After a few moments, you remembered something important. There was only one person missing, who hadn't received a greeting from you yet. With silent steps, you headed towards the laboratory.

The fear of being caught in the middle of your act by Black Hat was present throughout. You were Flug's right hand, but your boss always warned you to "not distract the doctor with any of your nonsense."

Without knocking, you entered the laboratory. In the back of your mind, you expected to see him in some special outfit for Christmas, but he was introduced in his normal outfit. It was understandable, but you still thought it was a shame. He would definitely look adorable wearing Christmas clothes again.

The doctor was sitting at his desk. The vision of his glosses was completely focused on the HatBot he was currently working on. All that could be heard from him were mutters of calculations that silently left his lips.

As you slowly moved up behind his back, Flug suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Tired, doctor?"

Your voice came out as a whisper, making the pilot scream in fright. He almost fell out of his chair, but after realizing it was you, a big sigh of relief left his lips.

"W—Why do you always have to sneak out like that!?"

The irritation was visible in his voice when he heard your small giggle.

"It's just adorable watch you jump."

The doctor rolled his eyes. This was exactly why he was always against your unexpected closeness with Demencia. Flug stood up with a sigh, gesturing as he began to scold you:

"What do you want now, Y/N? You should be fixing the HatBots that Demencia broke rather than slacking off! What's the point of creating a new one if all the others are-.."

You interrupted the pilot by shushing him, making him furrow his eyebrows.

"Hey, hey, hey! You don't need to get worked up with me, Flug! I've already repaired all the HatBots, but it's EXTREMELY difficult to deliver on time when they were left in pieces after meeting Demencia's claws."

The doctor was silent as he listened. When you were done, a sigh left his lips, and he let both of his arms fall to his sides.

"Ugh.. I'm sorry. I think I'm just stressed out by this overload of work. I was hoping Black Hat would give me a little break for how well we've done our missions the entire year, but I guess I was wrong... again."

The stress radiated from his voice. Even though he was wearing his paper bag, the dark circles under his eyes were noticeable.

It brought a melancholy to your mind. You never liked seeing the doctor like this, but what could you do?

The one time you dared to ask your boss for time off for your co-worker, you got hit in the head with the demon's cane.

The thought gave you goosebumps.

An awkward silence settled in the lab for a few seconds while you thought of something to distract him from so much stress. A moment passed, when you finally broke the deafening silence:

"..I brought you something. You know, as a Christmas present."

Such words made Flug raise an eyebrow. You? Had I brought him something? This was not a common thing to happen. Quickly, he questioned:

"You bring me something? What did you..-"

He paused to watch you take something out of your deep pocket. The pilot was always curious about how so many things could fit into one piece of fabric.

The depth of it always made him skeptical.

"Here it is!"

You said happily, handing him a...

"..A santa hat?"

He asked confusedly as he looked at the red hood in his hand. After a brief analysis, his eyes fell on the two messages on both sides of the fabric.

"To my dear co-worker and friend."

"Con amor, Y/N."

His gaze shifted to the present and to you. A slightly curious expression appeared on his face.

"Why would you-.."

His question was cut in half as you suddenly wrapped both arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight hug. He jumped at the sudden movement as his eyes instantly widened.

However, he made no move to free himself from the grip.

"W—What the- What are you-"

"Merry Christmas, Flug."

Your cheerful voice echoed softly through the lab, as your left hand stroked his back. A smile appeared on your face as you felt your colleague's body slowly relax in your grip.

He let out a soft sigh, placing both arms around you gently.

"..Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Merry Christmas for y'all! - Sam.

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙮 2: 𝙏𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜)★★★

Character: Wanda Maximoff

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): N/a

Genre: Fluff

A/n: Onto the second day everyone with our lovely Wanda Maximoff! Thanks for all the support recently 🙏🏻

Word count: 1.5k

...

...

Christmas music filled the house, the sounds of Mariah Carey's voice filling your ears as you heard her hit song for the millionth time since November started. Your wife had always loved the holidays, and at any time during November through the beginning of January, you were forced to hear every Christmas song and movie under the sun. It's not like you minded though. It made you happy to see her uplifted by the spirit of wreaths and Christmas trees, despite her occasional worry that you found it annoying.

One thing she never liked, however, was putting up the tree. To her, putting up the tree was annoying and a dirty chore that she preferred to watch you do. But since the tree you had gotten this year was allowed to be larger due to your new house, you needed more labor to bring it in.

"This stupid thing is getting pine needles everywhere," Wanda grumbled as the two of you placed the perfectly sized evergreen tree into its stand in the corner of your living room.

"Baby, we can clean them up later," You chuckled, "Plus, we're almost done, then we can put up all the fun stuff!"

"I guess," The redhead next to you smiled sweetly.

You simply rolled your eyes in a joking manner, a bright smile forming on your face as the tree locked into place.

"See! Wasn't so hard now was it?" You smirked, putting your hands on your hips, not noticing the stray pieces of pine in your hair.

Wanda smiled in pride of her partner, taking your wrist in her hand and raising her feet to pluck the green needles out of your hair. Once she finished, she quickly kissed your cheek to secure the cleanliness.

"No dekta, it wasn't," She smiled with a laugh, dropping the plants on the floor.

"Alright, can you go downstairs and get the tree decorations tub? It's bright red with a green lid," You asked her, kissing her on the nose once you had grabbed the scissors to cut the net off your tree.

Your wife nodded quickly, running down the stairs into the basement, leaving you to fix the tree.

Once Wanda returned with the box, you removed the lid to reveal all the colorful ornaments of different shapes and sizes. Looking up at the redhead, you noticed her eyes sparkling at the sight of all the lights and other decorations in the bin.

"You hypnotized over there Wands?" You teased her, waving your hand in front of her line of vision, laughing a bit once she jumped back out of her little trance.

"Yes, I love Christmas, you know this," She smiled as she picked up the long strand of lights, going to plug them in to ensure they were all working.

"Yeah, I haven't heard normal music since Thanksgiving," You rolled your eyes, pulling out the shiny garland to untangle it. "All the lights working okay?"

Wanda nodded, her eyes focused heavily on the illuminated cord while she wrapped it around the tree. When you looked at her, you looked over at her. You could practically feel your heart melting at the sight of her smile. Ever since her workload as school board president had doubled, you had begun to truly miss her smile as it had been replaced with stressed frowns.

Taking your eyesight away from your lover, you walked over to the other side of the evergreen, standing at the top of the latter before placing it about the tree

You'd occasionally look over at the redhead below, who was making her way closer to where you were, and you'd just smile (which she was way too focused on the pretty lights to notice).

After a couple of minutes had passed, you felt something bump your hand, then heard your wife giggle.

"Well, hello there Y/n!" She chuckled, causing you to look down at your hands that had bumped into each other.

"Well, hello there Wanda," You smirked.

Wanda took your hand in hers, kissing it softly, her lips leaving a soft pink mark in their wake.

You blushed heavily, covering your face with the hand not holding the garland.

"Meanie," You muttered through your flustered expression, causing the redhead next to you to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, I'll show you mean~" She teased, kissing your hand again before walking around you to continue decorating.

You blushed once again, looking upward with an expression of slight amusement.

"Alright Y/n!" Wanda smiled, looking at your now illuminated Christmas tree. "Now it's time for the ornaments!"

"Our favorite part!" You replied excitedly, getting on your knees to start handing each bulb to the older woman. "I'm going to give you every regular bulb we have first so we can look at the other cute ones later!"

The redhead nodded, taking each metal orb that would range in color and delicately placing it on the tree, her fingers tracing down to the bottom of it to admire the beauty before moving on to the next.

After handing her a garnishment, you'd watch Wanda put it on with the same fascination you had the day you first met, your eyes following her every move.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I must have been in your way-"

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I'm the one who ran into you!"

"Are you sure? I feel bad making you spill all your stuff!"

"I said don't worry about it, I'll get a discount for anything dented,"

"Hey, you're Ms. Maximoff, right? The head of the schoolboard?"

"What gave it away?"

Continuing your little assembly line, you'd get a glimpse of your tree adorning every new adornment, causing your smile to grow. Suddenly, your eyes locked on one of the objects in the bin as you had noticed every regular bauble had been put up. You quickly moved your body to grab it, your eyes widening at just the first clear glimpse of it.

"What's that one?" Wanda asked, noticing you slowing down to examine what you were holding.

"It's one from our wedding day. Remember the ones we gave out to everyone?" You asked, handing it to Wanda to put up on the tree.

"Oh, right! They have our initials engraved on them!" She exclaimed, her thumb running over the ceramic heart with each of your initials carved into it.

"I told your brother they we're cute, still don't know what his problem was," You rolled your eyes, remembering what Pietro had said about the ornaments being tacky, despite their minimalist nature.

"He was and still is an idiot, you know that," The older redhead chuckled, looking down at you. "Is that all of them?"

You shook your head,

"There's still one more," You smiled, getting on your toes to place a final decoration on the front center of the tree, a flat red ornament with the words "Our first Christmas married" written in green.

"When did you get that?" Your wife exclaimed, looking at it in shock.

"I got it on our honeymoon, I knew you'd like just a little," You smirked, kissing her softly on the lips.

"You thought right," She smiled as a single tear formed at the corner of her eye.

"Merry Christmas baby," You kissed her once again, looking at your tree.

"Merry Christmas dekta," Wanda replied, holding you tightly against her, joining your gaze at the beautiful evergreen in front of you two.

[cutecurly-hair]

Hearts Unleashed (Part 1)

Pairing: Nick Nelson x Black!fem!reader

Warning: Fluff, Smut in later chapters, Body Shaming

Words: 2234

Please interact and comment to keep it going. I always love to know what you think.

"What does this mean?" I stared at the piece of paper clutched tightly in my hand. My mom's eyes held an unmistakable unease as she replied, her voice tinged with worry, "This is our plane ticket to England."

Excitement bubbled up inside me as I glanced at the tickets. "We're going to England for a vacation! I had a feeling this year would be different. Do you think we can visit Paris while we're there? I heard it's just a quick train ride away."

My mom chuckled nervously, her laughter quivering. "That's the thing, honey, this isn't just a vacation; it's permanent."

My brows furrowed as I examined the ticket more closely, finally noticing the bold "ONE WAY" printed in the upper right corner. "What do you mean, one way?" Confusion washed over me, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"It means we'll be officially moving to England. I applied for a new job there, and I got it," my mom explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She saw the panic in my eyes and hurriedly added, "I understand it's sudden, but I think this will be a great change for us. I've even found a fantastic school with an amazing film program that I know you'll love."

My mind raced. "I don't even know what to say. Why are you telling me this now?" My whole life was here in America, and the idea of packing up and moving to another country was almost too much to bear.

"Honey, I know it's sudden, but they called me today, and they need me to start immediately. That's why we have to leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! I don't even have time to pack, let alone say goodbye to my friends. We can't just uproot ourselves from LA and head to England." I looked around our apartment, a cozy haven that had been my home for the past seven years. It felt like things were finally getting back to normal.

I glanced at the ticket again and saw the fine print: Departing from LAX tomorrow at 10:45 am. "I should really start wearing my glasses," I muttered under my breath.

My mom tried to reassure me, "Everything will work out fine. I've hired movers to come during the week and help ship the rest of our stuff. Tonight, all we need to do is pack our personal things and head to the airport first thing in the morning."

I felt like I wanted to argue, but then I saw how tired my mom looked. Her face seemed really worn out, and she had a tired look in her eyes. It made me realize that maybe I hadn't been paying enough attention to how she was feeling lately.

I decided not to bring up my concerns because I didn't want to make things worse. I didn't want to fight with my mom when she already seemed so tired and stressed. So, I chose to keep quiet and let it go for now, even though I still had my worries.

As we stepped off the plane in London, the dark grey skies clouded my vision, and the unfamiliar air filled my lungs. Instantly, I began to miss home. With half of my life packed away in two large suitcases and three duffel bags, this was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"Have your other bags arrived yet?" my mom asked, her eyes darting to the time on her wrist.

"Sorry for making you wait," I replied with a sigh. "When you're packing your whole life into a bag, it tends to take a while." I was far from being in a good mood after only managing to grab a couple of hours of sleep, spending one of them writing an overly dramatic paragraph to my friends about where I'd be for the next few years.

"There's no need to get sassy with me, Y/n," my mom chided. "I'm just worried about the time. I don't want to be late for the shuttle. If we miss this one, the next won't be for another three hours. And I'm sure you don't want to spend that much time at the airport."

Before I could respond, I spotted my color-coded bags moving slowly along the conveyor belt. I collected them and loaded them onto a trolley, then couldn't help but add a mockingly sweet tone, "Now, we can go."

My mom led the way to the shuttle, looking a bit lost in the bustling airport. She approached a stranger for directions, and I listened intently, realizing I needed to get used to the distinct accent. My mom thanked the stranger urgently, and we hurriedly made our way to catch the shuttle, leaving behind the life I'd known in America.

Arriving at our new home in England I couldn't help that there was a mix of excitement and trepidation. I had seen pictures of the place, but it was entirely different to stand in front of it, knowing that it was going to be our home for the foreseeable future. My mom, ever the optimist, had put in tremendous effort to ensure it was the best flat on the block.

As we approached the building, I noticed the quaint charm of the neighborhood. Rows of terraced houses with colorful front doors lined the cobblestone streets. It was a far cry from the sunny, palm tree-lined avenues of Los Angeles that I had called home.

My mom had informed me earlier that her new job had provided relocation money, and she had spent hours researching and visiting potential flats to find one that met all our needs. She was determined to make this transition as smooth as possible for me, especially since I wasn't exactly thrilled about changing schools.

The flat itself was a cozy two-bedroom apartment on the top floor of a charming Victorian building. It had large windows that let in plenty of natural light, and I could see the spires of an old church in the distance. The living room had plush sofas, and I could just imagine the walls being adorned with artwork from home. She had even managed to find a flat with a small balcony where we could enjoy tea on sunny afternoons.

As we stepped inside, I couldn't help but be impressed by how homely it felt, despite being in a foreign country. My room, though smaller than what I was used to, had a window overlooking the quiet street below. I packed some of my posters and photographs from our life in LA, making it feel like a small piece of home.

As I unpacked my belongings, I couldn't help but reflect on the whirlwind of changes that had brought us here. My parents' divorce had been a long and sometimes painful process, but with me finishing up middle school, it seemed like the right time for a fresh start.

In my mom's perspective, this move was a chance for something new and exciting, a way to turn the page on a difficult chapter in our lives. But for me, I felt like I was just along for the ride, caught up in the decisions made by the adults in my life. It wasn't easy to accept that we were starting over in a completely different country.

While I tried to look on the bright side, I couldn't shake the feeling that my mom should have told me about it much sooner. The truth was that I was still deeply hurt and confused.

But as I glanced out the window of our new flat and saw the quaint streets of our new neighborhood, I knew that, in time, I would find my place in this new chapter of our lives. Change might not come overnight, but I was determined to make the most of it and find the silver lining in our fresh start.

—-----

A whole week had passed, and I swear my boredom had reached Olympic levels. Our furniture from LA finally showed up a few days ago, and let me tell you, I became the world champion of room redecorating in record time. But apart from that impressive feat, my life had all the excitement of a cardboard box. School isn't kicking off until Monday, which gives me a gentle nudge that I should probably check out the film program my mom's been raving about. 

Feeling all organized and responsible, I sat down and sketched out the route from our place to the school. It's like a 20-minute walk, which I can totally handle once I get the hang of it. But if I'm feeling a bit lazy (which happens, like, all the time), there's a nifty 10-minute bus ride option. Plus, my mom's still knee-deep in paperwork to send our car overseas, so it's official I'm becoming a bus pro.

Then I checked out the school's website, and the film program doesn't look half bad. They've got this YouTube channel packed with short films that are more interesting than binge-watching cat videos. And here's the real kicker they've got a partnership with Netflix! I mean, seriously, how did they manage to pull that off? They're talking about workshops and internships, and I'm just here thinking,

"Who's the magician that got Netflix on board?" That seriously is impressive.

Looking out of the window, I couldn't believe my luck the sun was actually shining for once! After days of nothing but gray skies, it felt like a small miracle. I was starting to understand that sunny days were a rare commodity in this place. So, I thought, why not make the most of it while I could?

I swapped out my usual outfit for a pair of comfy shorts and a cool graphic tee. In a flash, I was out the door, ready to savor every bit of that precious sunshine.

As I continued my stroll through the neighborhood, I stumbled upon a charming park nestled amidst the houses. The sunlit meadow was dotted with people, and what caught my eye was the number of folks out and about with their dogs. It was becoming evident that this was definitely a big dog-loving community, and the park was their social hub.

I watched as playful pups frolicked, tails wagging with unbridled enthusiasm, and their owners chatted amicably, forming a tight-knit community within the community. It felt heartwarming to witness such camaraderie, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight.

I stumbled upon the perfect photo opportunity, one that would fit perfectly in my collection. I'd forgotten my camera at home, but my trusty phone would have to do. As I aimed to capture the moment, an unexpected collision sent my phone tumbling to the ground.

Before I could get a word out, the other person beat me to the punch. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going," he said, hastily bending down to retrieve both of our phones. It turned out he had dropped his phone as well.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up. "No, no, it's alright. It was my fault for standing right in the middle of the walkway," I replied, cheeks tinged with a hint of red.

He handed back my phone with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Hopefully, it didn't crack," he said, his own cheeks taking on a shade of pink.

I shook my head, trying to conceal my own embarrassment. "No big deal. You might have done me a favor, actually. It's about time I got a new phone, and this could be the perfect excuse," I quipped, waving my phone playfully. The boy chuckled warmly.

"Thanks for not making me feel awful about it," he admitted, appearing relieved. "I'm Charlie, by the way." He extended his hand, and I shook it with a friendly smile.

I responded, "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Charlie." The friendly atmosphere that had enveloped us earlier seemed to dissipate, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

Charlie finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with shyness. "Sorry, but I can't help but notice the accent..."

I smiled, realizing his curiosity. "Oh yeah, I'm from America. We just moved here last week, right down the block," I stated, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Charlie's eyes lit up with excitement. "Right down the block! I live right down that way." I couldn't help but feel my own excitement grow.

"I live where the new flats were built, I think they're called the Avalone Suites or something," I mentioned. Charlie's face instantly lit up with recognition.

"I live right across from you! Everyone around the block has been raving about the new building," he exclaimed,

As Charlie and I walked back to my apartment, he chatted animatedly about the neighborhood, sharing tidbits about the local shops, nearby parks, and the best places to grab a bite. It was clear he was friendly and genuinely excited to have a new neighbor.

During our conversation, we made another delightful discovery – we were both going to the same school. It was a pleasant surprise that eased my earlier concerns about not knowing anyone in this new place.

By the time we reached my apartment building, Charlie had almost talked my ear off, but I didn't mind one bit. With a warm smile, I turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me back, Charlie. I guess I won't be starting school completely alone."

Charlie grinned in response; his eyes filled with genuine friendliness. "Anytime, Y/N. I'm looking forward to seeing you at school."

We added each other on each other's socials before we parted ways.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/cutecurly-hair/727972531449020416/hearts-unleashed-part-2?source=share

[paimonial-rage]

tipsy tales - anemo boys

synopsis: anemo boys and the types of drunk they are

characters: kazuha, venti, xiao, heizou, aether

notes: ranging from tipsy to asleep on your shoulder

Kazuha - Sleepy Drunk

You always had to keep an eye on him during the more rowdy nights on the Crux. Everyone knew very well Kazuha's penchant for trying new things and it became a thing to get him to have a drink or two. The wandering samurai was always so mature and calm that there was something endearing about seeing him look so young and defenseless. While your crewmates surely meant no harm and made sure to keep an eye on him, you took it upon yourself to stick by his side. Who knew if he'd stumble off the side of the ship on his way to sleep, after all? Honestly, you wished he would be more careful, but with the way he'd never fail to fall asleep on your shoulder with your name mumbled upon his lips, you couldn't bring it up within you to complain.

Venti - Happy Drunk

You always tended to lose yourself a bit when you drank with Venti. Singing in public, dancing in the arms of another, all things you would never normally do. But with him, it was hard not to. After a long day working as a knight, your legs would immediately take you in the direction of Angel's Share. And when Venti saw you take a step inside, he'd immediately call you over with a sparkle in his eyes. The night always started off slow with you both simply chatting about your day and interesting things you heard. But as the drinks started to come and go, the lyre was brought out and people clapped along. The laughing would get louder as the cheers more enthusiastic. It was so easy to forget your stresses on nights like that. And when you woke up in bed safely the next day, you could feel the motivation to go on.

Xiao - Quiet Drunk

There was only one night of the year Xiao allowed himself to take a break from his duties. He only told you why the third year after you took the position of tending to him at the Wangshu Inn. Due to the power of the evil spirits being the weakest on that particular night every year, Rex Lapis made him vow to take that day to rest. You really didn't think he'd accept when you took a chance and poured him a glass of huangjiu, yellow wine. But he took it, drank, and placed the cup in front of you for more. As you poured him cup after cup, you couldn't help but become mesmerized. The light of the moon bathed him in an ethereal glow as he watched the stars. Though his cheeks slowly flushed and his eyes became glazed over, he did not turn his gaze away from the night sky. When you left later that night, you couldn't help but wonder how such a beautiful person could also look so heartbreakingly lonely.

Heizou - Flirty Drunk

It was no secret that you and Heizou didn't get along. Being the up and coming prosecutor of the Tenryou Commission, you were forced to work in close contact with him. While he did do a good job, that didn't stop him from doing the most infuriating things like suddenly introducing new groundbreaking evidence he never informed you of on the stand. After every case, you'd often take your frustrations out on him at the celebration party. Of course, he always had something to say. "Aw c'mon, is it such a big deal I came late? You would've won anyway, even without that last piece of evidence!" Upon you disagreeing, his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. "Oh? Are you saying that you needed me, Prosecutor? You know I'm always willing to spend more time with you if you enjoy my presence that much." If asked later, you'd vehemently claim the flush on your cheeks was due to the heat of the summer air and nothing more than that.

Aether - Talkative Drunk

While Aether was always in popular demand, you didn't really feel you knew that much about him. You always saw him chatting and joking around with Paimon, but the moment anyone came around, only Paimon would speak. You heard it was because he was still learning the language of Teyvat, but that assumption went down the drain the day you were invited to his teapot for dinner. While everyone there was chatting away and having a good time, you saw him pick up a glass of rice wine and take a sip. When he noticed you gaping at him with wide eyes, he smiled and pressed a finger against his lips. Later when he walked you back to your room, he laughed as he told you he's been old enough to drink for quite a while, but doesn't want to explain it to others. Then he got you laughing as he mentioned all the dumb things Paimon said and did that day. Next came his thoughts on the different people he's met and things he's experienced. It was only after you closed your room door behind you and hour and a half later that you realized... he has a really nice voice.

[chaoticloving]

talentless

harry styles x actress!reader

summary: harry gets advice on how to deal with criticism from y/n. y/n reflects back to when harry helped her. masterlist

warning: talks of rude people and parents, drinking

word count: 1.4k

a/n: yes, i’m alluding to a matilda fic. I would never forgive myself so not take the opportunity. but before that i’m def gonna build up their relationship more aka angst!! yay!! and like normal this is apart of the SOH universe but you don’t need to read that to understand this fic.

April, 2015

“How do you deal with criticism?”

It was late at night when Harry asked Y/n. They were in her bathroom, doing their nightly skin care routine—more like Y/n actually doing it, and Harry blowing the suds off his hands from his cleanser onto his girlfriend—and looking forward to going to bed after a busy day.

Y/n halted her movements, looking over to her boyfriend who got suspiciously quite a couple seconds ago. She missed his laughter.

She sighed. She wanted to yell at him, ask him why in his five years of in the spotlight he decided to look himself up; it’s the first rule of fame, never look yourself up—especially on twitter. But she knew that yelling wouldn’t help him, it would just make things worse.

“I-I don’t have to.” She tells him. “If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist to me.”

Harry, sitting on the bathroom countertop, looks at his hands laying in his lap. He doesn’t move, it almost looks like he’s not breathing too.

“But I know that’s not what you want to hear.” She lays her hand on his, holding it and rubbing her thumb across his skin soothingly. Harry looks up, eyes watery and soft. “Let’s cuddle.”

She pulls him along behind her. Y/n removed the covers and gestures for Harry to get in which he gladly does. Harry’s love language has always and will forever be touch, nothing sexual, just loving touches make him feel loved and that’s all he really needs right now.

Y/n gets in behind him, being the big spoon tonight as Harry turns to hug Y/n from the front.

“You know I love you right.” She mumbles, her hand going to stroke Harry’s hair. Harry hums and she takes that as the sign to go on. “And you also know I’m not the best at taking criticism.”

After being together for three years, Y/n has slowly let Harry into her personal life in bits and pieces. But after a stressful night of work and with an added bit of drinking, Y/n had revealed to never being able to deal with criticism at all due to her extreme perfectionism. It was a real heart to heart conversation, one that will always be important to Y/n.

…

The bottle feels far to light for Y/n’s taste. She needs more vodka, a hard and biting drink is suiting for this situation, but she can’t seem to get the courage to get up.

Her phone has been buzzing a lot too, but like the unopened drink in the cabinet, she can’t seem to get up to answer it.

The ringing stoped for a bit. She didn’t know to feel relieved or saddened. She felt alone—something that always happens when she flies to the States for filming and interviews—even though she has some friends that she was filming with.

Gone Girl was an amazing film to star in. She was happy and successful but she just can’t shake what was going on.

She recently got a call from her parents. Obviously, she let it go to voicemail, but that’s stop her from listening to it.

And that’s why she’s on the floor now, of her New York flat drinking and finishing a bottle of mediocre vodka, wanting to cry but just can’t form the tears.

She hears banging on the door, Y/n’s head snapping over to the sound. The mystery person is all the encouragement she needs for jumping up, throwing the bottle away and getting a price of gum. But her plans are foiled when the door opens, and a familiar British voice fills the room.

“Love?” Harry calls out, holding the keys you gave him to the flat as he walks further in. He sees her, catching her red handed as she dumps the bottle in the trash, face blotchy and her whole body language on edge. Anxiety quickly creeps in. He doesn’t like seeing her like this, and can’t help but be a little scared. “What’s wrong.”

Harry was luckily in New York at the same time as Y/n was there to film some interviews. She didn’t know their time would overlap, but Harry wouldn’t be damned if he couldn’t see her. He had heard nothing from her end which was never a good thing; coupled with Harry’s anxiety, he came as soon as he could.

“Nothing.” She lies. Harry hates the smile she puts on—the one that reserved for interviews and red carpet phots, the fake one.

Harry hugs her, rubbing his hand on his back to sooth her. She lets him. “Please don’t lie.”

“I, I got a call from my parents today.” She hesitates to continue, but a kiss on the head begs her to keep going—to let it all out. “They were ‘critiquing’ me like normal. They said some stuff, about how my skills aren’t as good as they should be. It—“ She took a deep breath, still refusing to let a tear come out. “I just shouldn’t of listened to my voicemail.”

“No, you shouldn’t of.” Harry agrees. He pulls back, still holding onto her. “You know you’re better than them. You know your perfect. You know that you are all you need to be.”

…

“You know you’re better than them, You know you’re perfect. You know you’re all you need to be.” Y/n echoed him. She said it with the same passion and tenderness as her boyfriend said to her. It’s what he needed to hear.

“Oh yeah? Who came up with that.” Harry scoffed, joking, which is always a good sign.

“My boyfriend.” She hummed. “He’s so good with words like that. What ever comes out of his mouth is like some sort of magic.”

“Sound like a catch.” Harry said, arms wrapping around Y/n a little tighter and getting a face full of boob in the process.

“He is.” She agreed. “He’s also really pretty, talented, and the sweetest human ever.”

“Is he sexy?”

“Super sexy.” She told him, giving him a kiss. They sit in silence for a bit, Harry listens to Y/n heartbeat go, and Y/n plays with Harry’s hair.

“Hey H?” Y/n asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“What did you read?” She said slowly, she needed to specifically know what nonsense was set about her perfect boyfriend now, and in what ways she needs to remind him about how perfect he is.

“They said I was talentless.” A pause. “Going back to only getting through the X-factor with needing a band to only being famous from being with the guys.” He admitted. “They said if I was really talented, that I would leave like Zayn, and start my own music career.”

Y/n gulped. She of course talked to Harry about what Zayn’s departure ment for One Direction, and it was planned that a much deserved break would happen soon. But it was fairly obvious that they weren’t getting back together. Harry was scared to go off on his own, but Y/n had of course floated the idea of writing his own songs and performing alone, just Harry Styles.

“What if I go solo and I fail?” His voice cracked, squeezing Y/n so tight she had scoot squeeze his hand back.

“Harry, can I admit something?” She didn’t wait for a response. “I read your notebook.”

Harry shot up and looked at Y/n like a dear caught in the headlights.

The notebook had songs, personal songs, Harry was writing. And they all had one thing in common: they were about her. Who else could Harry write about love and passion then his girlfriend? The love of his life? He had no other muse then her, she was perfect.

“Those songs, Harry.” She stroked his cheek. “They’re so good Harry.”

He smiles, overjoyed with her praise. “You’re not just saying that?”

“When I run out of road, you bring me home.” She recited, the line unable to leave her head for the past couple of months since she stumbled across the notebook.

“Sweet Creature.” Harry murmured, slowly going back to his previous position. “You like it?”

“Yup.” She assures. “Expect when you call me stubborn. I am not—“

“You are so stubborn, don’t even try.” They both giggled and kissed, happy and content.

“But seriously, you have nothing to worry about my love. You will do amazing things.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She kissed his head, causing a soft groan to come from Harry. “You are going to do amazing things.”

“So are you.”

...

taglist:

strikethrough can't be tagged & send ask to be added/removed

@uhuhuh @sucker4angstt @b-reads-things @augustfaultline @bxtchboy69 @japanchrry @lilbredsticc @daydreamingofmatilda @springholland @cacapeepee @yourgoldengirls @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @lukewearingbeanies @timmyslover 

[miru667]

How do you manage to stay in a fandom for so long? I'm always mario jumping from fandom to fandom every 3-6 months

Oh, so many reasons. I think I've answered this before but in a much more concise way so idk what happened here when I tried to answer again from scratch but uhhh I wrote a lot lol?? Long ramble time. 😂

I found this fandom at a point in my life when I really emotionally needed it, so I got really attached to it. I stayed because of the friends I've made in it and because of the OCs I got invested in, both mine and other people's, and every so often something invigorated my interest like a new roleplay I got to join or new concept art that got discovered.

I'm also just a really dedicated person (for better or worse) and I still have ideas that I want to get out there creatively. I don't get a lot of free time, and I rarely have energy for hobbies after work so my time passes slowly in the sense that I may still be in the middle of appreciating a thing, meanwhile everyone else has already sped through and processed it and moved on.

So I've gotta be really careful about choosing what to spend my limited time and energy on. It sometimes takes me a whole month to draw a piece of art that I'm proud of. It would be a huge waste of my time to spend so much energy on a fandom that after 3 months I think I might not care about anymore.

And like, if it's going to take me a month to draw 1 thing, what am I going to choose? Fanart of a character from a show that I just finished that I might possibly move on from in 3 months? Or art of my darling Audrey OC that I've been developing for years and whom I know will always bring me joy for the rest of my life? It's not a hard choice! Like I'm sure it's obvious by now but I really love my oc. It's gotten to the point that I look for her in every media I consume. I like characters because they remind me of her, and I like plots because they remind me of her. When I watch a movie and end up loving it, I'm not going to be drawing fanart for that movie, I'm more likely going to be drawing Audrey Grace in some way that's consciously or subconsciously inspired by that movie. I'm sure other people with beloved ocs can relate to that, too.

Back to media consumption: I'm constantly watching new things, shows, movies, letsplays, and I'm able to love them just fine, but I never participate in their fandoms (unless you count reblogging fanart as participation. I personally don't). I just don't feel motivated to and I feel like it's unnecessary. I shouldn't need to prove anything. You can appreciate media without engaging in fandom. In fact, I encourage it, because a lot of what I see in fandoms these days is just stressful, at least to me. And I don't want that stress. I'm much happier as a person when I don't have to read other people's opinions, discourse and drama over some show's themes or ships or whatever. I can just quietly revel in my own enjoyment of the show without being tainted by anything else, and my love for it is not any less valid than the person who's livetweeting their loud emotions while watching the same show and putting out fanart 1 hour after every episode. Bless them, though.

And I guess that's mostly what I do these days with the Onceler fandom, too. Appreciating it more quietly these days, I mean. It's just that...I have a fandom related oc so I draw her. And I have friends here so we do stuff together and we reference fandom inside jokes no matter what activity we're doing. If I encounter art that deeply moves me personally, I reblog it, just like I reblog art for other media on my sideblog. When anyone has a fandom history related question, I'm eager to answer because I don't want the past to be misrepresented or misunderstood. And also, since it's been over a decade, this fandom has long ago become my daily normal. I can do whatever I like but I can't really "leave" this fandom unless I delete all my social media and cut off all my online friends. And delete my memories of the past 12 years of my life as well. Just become a completely different person.

So I guess I can reverse the sentiment: I can't relate to people who hop fandoms every 3 to 6 months. 😭 All the power to you, but that's just not the way I happen to live my life, nor the way I engage with the media I consume! The Once-ler fandom was the one exception. It was special.

But who knows, anything can happen in the future. I'm not so proud that I'm purposely blocking myself from looking at other fandoms or anything. I just go with the flow! Right now I'm slowly making my way through jjba, an omori playthrough, a Plague Tale playthrough, and urusei yatsura season 2 (the new anime). Probably nothing will come out of any it except for a bunch of Audrey inspos, but again, who knows. XD I'm also going to an idkhow concert soon, and I've bought merch from their store already. Does that count as participating in a fandom? Maybe not. But now that I think of it, even if I "join" another fandom, it doesn't necessarily mean I'd leave the onceler fandom either, so maybe it wouldn't matter haha.

Thank you for the ask and thank you to anyone who's read my entire answer!

[insertsomthinawesome]

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but how do you… art? Like from looking at your art, there’s just so many different fandoms and it’s all fantastic!! How do you not stick to one or feel like you *have* to stick to one? Sorry

Aw Friend! No need to apologize! :D You asked your question plenty politely! That's a really interesting question actually, and I'm fascinated to be asked it! Because I actually do know the kinda thing you're talking about! or at least I have experiences that feel like they line up with what you're asking. A lot of its... growing up? I guess? And not in the sense of like. becoming an adult. but the non-stop process of growing and learning more about life. When I was younger, an actual child, I just Did it. I drew whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I didn't question hoping to a new interest or drawing different fandoms. I just did it. But the older you get the more complicated a lot of things get right? 😔 That was true for me.

I actually spent several years terrified, of moving on. Of leaving old fandoms behind. There was one fandom I actually forced myself not to leave for like... 2 years? Because I was afraid of all the projects I wouldn't complete, all the stories I wouldn't tell, all the art i wouldn't make. But honestly that was a horrible decision? It burnt me out of the specific fandom SO BADLY. Its only been around this last year that I've been able to enjoy things around it again without an overhanging shadow of stress.

I was still scared to fandom hop after that incident tho. Despite having gotten burned by caving to my own fears. It wasn't until I got into Trigun that I actually started to get less scared. A friend I met in that fandom, someone who was older than me, told me that... things have a way of coming back around. If you know the song "Everything Stays" From Adventure time? She said it was like that song. You will inevitably get older. But these things won't be gone. And you can always come back to them :) That clicked in my brain... and it took a bit longer, a bit more time of accepting that fact for me to find peace... but honestly? I kinda have now. At least for this moment in time. I wouldn't be surprised if the fear comes back around again, fear is funny and insidious like that. But I have the tools to beat it now :) The other two things I would mention are these: For starters: this might be obvious? But I'm a hobbyist artist. I don't make money off of my art, I don't sell it, I don't need numbers or clout in order to pay my bills. I'm completely free to do my own thing! Ain't nothing wrong with making a living off of your artwork and if that's the path that you want to walk GO FOR IT. But that path does have its own challenges. Because I don't walk that path, I am free to make whatever I want, without worrying about how it might reflect on my finances. The other thing is...

PERFECTIONISM...

THIS, NASTY LITTLE VILE COCKROACH, WILL RUIN YOUR ART LIFE SO BADLY ITS INSANE. It will ruin your NORMAL life super fast too 😔 it is an insidious little shoulder devil telling you, that you will be happier if you just do it the "perfect" way. IT IS SO SO SO SO SO SO WRONG. That is the key to the door of endless procrastination and broken dreams. SFLJSLF to get less metaphorical about it though: If you're always waiting for the perfect moment to make art for a fandom, to leave a fandom, to join a fandom (in this case i just mean "Get into the thing that interests you" when I say "Fandom") or create literally anything, you will be waiting forever. I know because i have been :') And its made it very hard to draw both in my past, and right now this very day.

Truthfully i'm still working on that one??? I've had some epiphanies recently that have helped a lot with my perfectionism... but I haven't tried drawing since having them? (drowning in the new Honkai Star Rail Patch WHEEZE) So uh. Not sure If I'm over that hill yet xD But yeah, if that's one piece of advice i could give you to take seriously, its don't chase perfection, in ANYTHING. Especially art. It will never be enough for you. And if you're doing it for other people, it will never be enough for them. Art is wonderful and messy, and human. And that is okay.

Its taken me a lot of soul diving and thinking and a lot of help from outside influence and kind people for me to figure this stuff out too. So don't feel bad to ask for help kay? We all need help. A lot xD I'm still not like, the king this stuff either. There are a lot of smaller, more niche, fandoms, I want to draw for, but still haven't, because of my own anxiety and embarrassment. There are fandoms I haven't drawn for because I don't feel like i have the adequate amount of information to be, ""allowed"" too (which is totally a fake standard btw, there is no barrier to entry for when you're "allowed" to draw something). I'm working on these problems every day.

Oh actually one last note: People can influence how hard it is for you to draw for a bunch of fandoms too. If you know you'll get made fun of for drawing something, its hard to draw. If you know you'll get praised for drawing something, sometimes that makes it easier to draw. Both of those things can mess you up BAD. Constantly drawing for other people (when its not a deliberate gift) can make you feel really upset and angry, and dissonant with your artwork.

But it can be equally as hard to realize nobody will share your enthusiasm if you don't draw what they like. That's not a judgement against anybody's friendships, we all got our own interests, and nobody can be 100% Invested in everything their friends enjoy. But It can make it a bit more emotionally challenging sometimes. And it can be hard to like?? Emotionally deal with that? in a way it makes art that you know will perform well, either with your friend group or online, like... "Candy". Its tastes good, but it doesn't give you long term energy (ie there's nothing wrong with it, but its not sustainable as your only form of sustenance) Meanwhile making art that is purely self indulgent is like eating a full and healthy meal. It gives you that long term energy of personal satisfaction, and your enjoyment and happiness also doesn't inherently hinge on whether or not other people appreciate it like you do. Obviously there's no issue if what you genuinely want to draw would also do well online/with your friends!

ANYWAYS, yeah, I'm still maturing and learning and growing with a lot of my opinions and perspectives and emotions on this stuff? Its definitely easier said than done, and while from the outside it looks effortless... I understand why you'd be struggling anon. I hope you can figure it out for yourself too! Best of luck :D also i could go on and on and on about this topic for years because alsjdfaksjdflJSDJGSD ooohhhhhhh boy I have learned and witnessed and thought many a thunk.

[hiccupbutpurple]

Don't know if youre still taking asks for the WIP thing, but

-Half runaway AU - Vigcup ?

Damn this has been here for so long I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long! I will always take any excuse to talk about the random fics I have lol! I don’t have my laptop rn so I’m just gonna have to go off memory.

This is basically one of the fic ideas that I had cause of Vigcup week way back then before I got distracted with a bunch of other plot lines and whatnot, it’s also what lead me to writing one of my published wips which has kinda replaced it. I’m probably never gonna actually publish it cause the main fun elements if it I’m adding to that fic, so I’ll do a full rundown. (Also I’m fairly sure I was inspired by CantMakeMyMind on Ao3’s fic Dragon Soul).

- Hiccup is half living on Berk and half out exploring. He mainly just spends his time around the archipelago (trying to avoid the villages that would report him to Stoick) until he’s older because he was worried people would be suspicious of him leaving. After years of spending more and more time away, he realises he can just start leaving for days (using camping or something as an excuse if necessary but considering he’s not making trouble for Berk they aren’t too concerned).

- He goes out and discovers the hunters and he tries his best to avoid them until he is captured by Viggo. Hiccup is used to Vikings hunting dragons (also he hasn’t defeated the red death just yet so there’s still raids happening) but bonding happens after he gets captured. Viggo is actually willing to listen to him (basically the first human to do so) which endears him to Hiccup, likewise Viggo is impressed by his intelligence and they are more willing to try understanding each other. During this time Viggo also meets his Skrill and they bond, setting off the trend of Vikings having peace but it’s mich harder with the Queen still in control.

- As they work together more they start to fall for one another and soon Hiccup opens up about Berk. Viggo is constantly trying to get him to leave Berk and join them fully but Hiccup wants to protect the dragons and try and make peace. There’s some B plots with Gobber trying to work out what Hiccup is doing too since he’s suspicious of him, especially when he noticed Hiccup feeding the dragons extra fish and the dragons in the arena keep escaping.

- Hiccup is going in and out of Berk and the hunters, but after Stoick is nearly killed, Hiccup decides that he and Toothless should go and attack the nest. Hiccup never had the character growth he did in canon, or the connections, so I feel like his immaturity and lacking impulse control is heightened (more then it already is at least). It’s also a bit of a breaking point considering how stressful secrets are, the war, meeting new people and his unresolved trauma.

- At the same time, Viggo decides that if Hiccup won’t give up on Berk fully, he’ll basically call out Berk for its treatment of Hiccup himself and solve the war (and maybe make the relationship a definite thing in the process). He arrives after Hiccup leaves and everyone on Berk is like ‘who the hell is this, why the hell is there a fricken Skrill, and why does he want Hiccup.’ That’s when they realise Hiccup is gone again. After noticing the burns on Stoick, and finding Hiccups normal travelling bag still in the forge, and some helpful tips from Gobber, he puts the pieces together and flies off to save Hiccup.

- They get to the nest (which he and Hiccup has discussed on a few occasions) and finds a downed Hiccup and Toothless near the Red Death’s body. Toothless is awake and shows him Hiccup with a half bitten off leg. Viggo then does the amputation and cares for him back at his headquarters. (This was one of the main plots for one of my og Day One Vigcup week fic lol)

- Everyone on Berk is left to wonder what happened for weeks, some thinking it was a trick (traveling Viggo = Odin) or Hiccup being kidnapped or something, (Stoick is having a nervous breakdown) until Hiccup finally returns. Explanations are given, vigcup kisses are shared and after teaching them a little more about dragons, Hiccup’s work is done and he decides to join Viggo to travel, help the hunters make money without hunting, and be in love. Gobber still lives under the belief that Viggo is Odin, the eyepatch doesn’t help.

[loreleismusings99]

Two Body Problem

Ch 4

[Masterlist]

Qualifying exams are stressful. coming to terms with budding romantic feelings is somehow even more stressful. In which Mark and the reader critique each others' work and a surprising amount of sleep happens.

Thank you for reading! sorry this took so long to get out, I just graduated(can't believe I have a bachelor's degree now omg), and my life has been kind of a whirlwind lately, but I'm glad I was able to get this out. I don't think this is my strongest chapter, but I can move on to other parts of the story now this is done. As always, please let me know of ways I can improve this and if there's anything that should be fixed about this. Tysm, and I hope y'all are having a wonderful holiday season! Happy Perihelion Day!

also, y'all, I am running out of Matt Damon gifs to use for these so if you have any suggestions, please send them to me!

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God, my back hurts…

You shift under your blanket and grumble at the uncomfortably stiff structure that's currently cradling you. Cracking open an eye, you look around at your surroundings, becoming increasingly familiar as the clouds of sleep part and slowly return your senses to you. Why am I in the living room? Cracking open the other eye, you’re nearly blinded by the morning’s sunlight. Letting out a raspy “ugh…” at the unpleasant stimulus, you turn your head into your blanket again to shield your eyes from the offending ball of ionized hydrogen.

A new piece of sensory information halts your thoughts almost completely when you bury your face in your blanket though; notes of honey with an afterthought of what might be soil flood your senses, layered with something bergamot-y and a mystery spice that gives warmth to the smell. The smell reminds you of your night in the library, labs full of undergrads extracting caffeine from tea leaves, and office hours in the too-cramped grad office in the biosciences building. You remember a hand brushing yours as you both reach for the same homework packet, then mousy blond hair, striking green eyes, and a smattering of freckles.

The realization that your blanket smells like Mark hits you like a freight train and you're suddenly ripped from the clutches of sleep as he fills your senses. You try to find it within you, but you can’t quite locate the discomfort you thought you’d experience being confronted with Mark’s presence--however fleeting and ephemeral-- first thing in the morning. The feelings it stirs within you are… pleasant?? Being enveloped by the earthy scent is calming for whatever reason; like being held, wrapped in a profound sense of home and safety that you rarely have felt in your adult life. He must wear lavender… you think, trying to explain away the state you're in before drifting off again, sleeping in for the first time in a long while.

☆☆☆

“I'm sorry, you did what?!” Mark whirls around, his sandwich still clutched in his left hand while his right is holding his laptop in a precariously loose grip.

Colin rolls his eyes before responding to Mark's dramatic outburst. “Oh please, don't act so scandalized; that's a completely normal and average thing to ask--”

  The door slamming at almost midnight tonight was certainly not on Colin’s bingo sheet for the evening’s events, but it was a harbinger of more unexpected happenings starting with Mark’s sour mood after returning from what should have been an enjoyable get-together with his colleagues in the bioengineering department.

“Sure, yes, normally, but they’re about the least average individual I’ve met up until this point in my life, Colin; you can’t just--” Colin has had a front-row seat to Mark’s gradual descent into denial for almost 6 months at this point. As Mark starts waxing poetic about how inviting you over to do moc quals presentations together would be the single worst decision Colin’s made, he remembers the night he came back from that mixer the two of you met in late spring earlier this year.

“The fucking audacity, how did they get this far being so unprofessional--” Mark tosses his bag onto their shared couch a mere foot away from where Colin was sitting writing up a first draft of the introduction for his thesis proposal on improving science communication with the general public while avoiding misleading sensationalism. Mark storms off into his room before poking his head out the door to say, “Did you know using a switch case to find the number of elements in an array is apparently--” Mark mimes air quotes “‘so clunky that it should be considered a syntax error’? Fucking hell…”

As Mark ducks back into his room grumbling, Colin responds with,“ Mark, I promise you I had no clue… and good evening, why do you look and sound like someone just told you agriculture and botany are the same thing?” Colin waits for Mark’s response as he stomps out of his room, having exchanged his business casual garb for his pajamas, and sulks into their kitchen.

“Oh, no reason. I just had the displeasure of getting publically ridiculed by a EE who wouldn’t know the difference between a spanner and a set of calipers, their head’s so fucking deep in electronics they don’t know how to communicate with other humans.” after grabbing a bottle of lemonade from the fridge, Mark collapses down on the chair to Colin’s left, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut.

  He has it bad… Colin remembers thinking, as he does now, as he watches Mark run up his blood pressure, postulating about critiques you haven’t even had the chance to make on his quals paper and presentation yet. “Mark… Mark, listen.” Colin says to interrupt his wayward roommate’s self-sabotage. “It’s not that serious. They’re going to come over to get their paper looked at too--actually, they’re presenting the same day as you. They’re coming here with the same level of vulnerability as you. I don’t think they’ll go easy on you, but I don’t think they'd be cruel either.”

Colin waits a couple of seconds before asking,“... what’s their name?” Mark pauses and looks up at the ceiling with a faraway look in his eye before saying your name, calmly for the first time since he’s returned home for the evening. Colin and Mark sit in this pause before Mark continues, describing how you were a vision of confidence and poise in your sweater vest, oxfords, and slacks--likely due to unfounded pride, he added after snapping out of his momentary revere. It took everything in Colin’s power not to laugh in Mark’s face every time he tried to explain away every positive thing he noted about you, from your ‘surprising competence in biomechanical design to your managing to land a graduate assistantship in one of the best-funded bio-instrumentation labs in the department.

“How would you know? Hell, they were probably thrilled by the idea of getting to take me down a peg and ruin my faith in my thesis in the process--”

“Well, they certainly seemed eager, but likely not for the reason you think…” Colin responds absent-mindedly as he returns to prepping his presentation materials for their moc quals presentations.

Mark pauses in his nervous pacing and looks finally directly at Colin before asking, “What… exactly did they say? When you asked?”

“My, you’re awfully interested in the minutia of their reactions to you. I wonder why…” Colin postulates slyly, looking up from his computer and smirking.

It takes a few seconds of gear-turning in Mark's head before he finally picks up on what Colin is insinuating before the man in question lets out a guffaw and states, “Absolutely not. No. Impossible, inconceivable--”

“Explain yourself then; you've been emotionally constipated since the day you met them,” Colin crosses his arms before continuing, “You aren't very good at hiding the inner machinations of your head you know, it's written all over in how you act.”

“What I feel for them is probably the farthest thing from affection, they make me sick to my stomach--”

“You sure those aren't just butterflies?--”

“Can you please just answer my question?” Mark sighs in exasperation, and Colin lets out a chuckle before explaining how the events transpired.

“So, I found them in the lab--I think they were soldering something? Honestly, it's beyond what I was willing to ask about so I don't know, but I asked them how they were doing and if they're interested in doing moc quals with us--”

“How do you know where their lab is?”

“I majored in journalism, Mark--I have my methods, don't worry about it. Anyway, they perked up at the mention of moc quals and said that they're about to give their presentation on Friday and that they'd love to have extra practice presenting to people who would ask similar questions to what their committee would ask them. They even mentioned that, quote,‘ despite your likely lack of appreciation for their work, your opinions would be useful,’ end-quote.” Colin utters the last sentence with a chuckle.

Mark opens his mouth to say to retort before he's interrupted by a gentle knock at the door.

Mark looks up at the door and then frantically around the apartment, looking at the mess of dishes he had left from his dinner yesterday before uttering a soft “shit!”, tossing his computer onto the couch next to Colin, and holding his sandwich in his mouth as he picks up his dishes and runs them into the kitchen. “You didn’t say they’d be here now!!” Mark yells from behind the divider wall that separates the kitchen from the living/dining room area, hiding dirty dishes in a panicked frenzy as Colin gets up to let you in.

“You didn’t let me get that far before you started questioning me--Hi there, welcome in!” Colin calls over his shoulder before greeting you and stepping to the side of the open door to let you into his and Mark’s shared space.

“Hey, thanks for inviting… me…” You look around like this is the first time you've seen a room before saying“Wow, you two have a nice place” with what looks like a sparkle of awe in your eyes.

“Thanks,” Mark finally decides to pipe up after exiting the kitchen and leaning against the wall. “Sorry for the mess though, I didn't know we were going to have company.” Mark forces through a fake smile as he looks over to Colin with thinly veiled, panicked irritation.

“Ah, so the clutter and dirty dishes aren't a half-baked preparation strategy?” You jest, dawning a coy smirk before turning to Colin and asking, “Shoes on or off?”

Colin's barely able to get in an ‘either is fine’ before Mark rebuts with, “You wound me with how much you underestimate my very complex plan to distract you.” Colin almost sprains an ocular muscle rolling his eyes at Mark's attempt to play it cool after nearly having an aneurysm about you coming over as the man in question ducks back behind the false wall before saying, “I'm making Pizza Bagel Bites for us.” There's a short pause before Mark pokes his head around the wall to regard you again before asking, “Do you like Bagel Bites?”

“Yeah, Bagel Bites are fine.”

“Are you sure? I can make something else if you want; we also have hot pockets, an actual frozen pizza, and we might have some leftover soup from Thanksgiving too--”

You rest a hand on your hip and sit into it before asking, with a huff, “Mark, honestly l, anything is fine; are we going to do this or are you afraid my presentation's going to be better than yours?”

At this point, Colin has sat back down on their couch and is having the time of his life watching what's unfolding before him. He looks over to the kitchen where Mark is still hidden and listens as he hears a clamoring commotion of a pan being filled with frozen Bagel Bites and the furious beeps of the oven turning on to pre-heat before he rushes out of the kitchen, picks up his laptop, sits down, and opens it.

Mark dawns a haughty smirk and a competitive gleam sparks in his eyes as he says, typing away on his computer, “Oh, you have no idea the magnitude of scrutiny you've just unleashed upon your work…”

You let out a huff of a laugh before saying, “I expect nothing less” and opening up your laptop and sharing with the two of them your paper and presentation as the lot of you get started on your moc reviews.

The process is fairly simple: one of you presents while the other two act as your panel committee, asking questions, and making suggestions at the end of your presentation. Colin goes first, presenting his findings from his literature review of surveys and short-term studies of the efficacy of popular science news and the need for more long-term studies. This is something he's practiced hundreds of times, so the questions you throw at him aren't surprising--though, he is quite taken aback by how well-versed you are in pedagogical techniques in science communication and makes a note to pick your brain about your experience later.

You go next, Mark having half-offered half-volunteered you to go next, he's probably still trying to calm his nerves, Colin thinks as he watches Mark shift awkwardly in his seat while you stand from your spot on the couch next to him after setting up your presentation on your computer. Colin tries his best to focus on the lovely presentation on flexible electronics and their use in vitals monitoring, but he can’t help but be distracted by Mark's increasingly adorable investment in your presentation, actively listening and asking questions but with a faraway look in his eyes as he gazes at you with what can only be described as adoration as you passionately expound upon the process of medication release in implantable medical sensing devices. You finish your presentation and Mark enthusiastically jumps up to present last, evidently forgetting his nerves from earlier and diving straight into the complexities of irrigation and sustainable crop cultivation in extreme environments. Colin takes note of the understated excitement you exhibit at Mark's passion for his field, so reserved that he almost missed the way you attempted to block a blush and giggle at his peculiar use of casual, nearly comical lexicon in a presentation meant to convince the academics at the top of the botany ivory tower to give him a chance at becoming a professional scientist.

After presenting you all went over the notes you made on each other's presentations, discussing why certain word choice decisions were made, how each of you dealt with being confronted with A gap in your knowledge, et cetera. Mark was chewing on the end of a red pen while looking over the notes and suggestions you provided for his presentation before making a face and asking, “What’s wrong with my wording here? I think this is a perfectly valid term to describe nutrient uptake efficiency in--”

“Mark, do I need to tell you why you can’t say ‘slorp’ in a Ph.D. qualification oral exam?” You look up from your paper, now marked up with notes from Mark and Colin, and look pointedly at Mark, your mouth quirked into a poorly concealed smirk. Mark starts falling over his words trying to explain his reasoning--or lack thereof--while failing at holding back enthusiastic laughter.

Mark turns to Colin and asks, “Well, what do you think--do you see the academic value of using slorp in a presentation?”

Colin rests a hand gently on Mark’s shoulder before responding. “Mark, my dearest friend, I absolutely do not,” Colin says through bouts of laughter and it puts you in stitches next to Mark, laughing so hard that the only noise you can make is a high-pitched wheeze as you’re doubled over by your glee.

Mark dramatically clutches his shirt right over his heart and says, “Et tu, Brute??” before succumbing to his laughter.

☆☆☆

The empty chair to your right buzzes with the vibrations your restless leg sends through the floor as you await the panel's decision on whether or not you need to reconsider your place in the Ph.D. program. Every time you try to listen in on the conversation your advisor and mentors are having in the room behind you, Hana gently squeezes your hand to remind you to at least try not to obsess about your presentation. It's done now, the ball's in their court. All you can do now is wait and try not to send your blood pressure through the roof.

I think that went alright…you think, threading your fingers between Hana's in an attempt to ground yourself. I answered all of their questions correctly… I think. They didn't say so if I didn't; would they have done that? Fuck, what if they just decided to say nothing-

The door to Hana’s and your left opens suddenly to reveal your advisor, Dr. Ameer, poking his bald and bespectacled head out from behind the door before stepping out and standing to his full height, imposing from your current seated perspective.

He looks down at you for a moment before smiling proudly and holding out his hand. “Congratulations!” You take his hand and shake it feeling like the air got kicked out of your chest, only able to let out a breathless squeeze of a ‘thank you’ that your advisor lightly laughs at. “Excellent treatment of the current gap in the literature on the use of implantables for tissue regeneration for rehabilitative purposes in particular--it makes a great start to a thesis project.” He states, taking off his reading glasses.

You nod and say another “thank you,” stronger this time now that your tensed muscles have finally relaxed and Hana's got you wrapped up in a sideways hug. “I'll make sure to, uhm, send you my availability for the next week so we can discuss how I did and how I can improve. We should also start to discuss my thesis--where to start, what we're capable of doing, et cetera.”

“Absolutely. Don't forget to celebrate too, though. You work hard, you deserve the rest.” He says, sitting down in the chair to your right.

“Oh, don't worry about that,” Hana says, clapping you on the shoulder, “I'll make sure they have at least a little fun within the next 24 hours.”

“Thank you for your work keeping them sane.” Dr. Ameer says through a laugh.

“Is this an intervention?” you ask, looking back and forth at the two of them as they both guffaw at your bafflement.

“Alright,” Dr. Ameer starts, standing back up before saying, “Congratulations again, I'll see you on Monday.”

“Thank you, and see you then.” You respond, allowing yourself to finally smile with a gleam of pride in your eyes as he nods and walks off, presumably to his office.

You wait until you know he's out of earshot before bellowing out a, “Thank fucking God…” as Hana squeals, shaking your shoulders in pent-up excitement.

“Hey, don't act like you didn't nail it in there, I heard you, you were great!! Oozing confidence and academic splendor!” Hana responds, dramatically clutching a fist over her heart. “We have to celebrate properly tonight; maybe drinks and dinner at my place--”

“Please don't make it a big thing, it's not like I just defended my thesis,” you say through an exasperated sigh.

“Fine, but we're at least inviting over Colin and Mark--they just passed their quals too.”

An Incredulous and confused look twists your face when you ask, “How do you know? I thought they were presenting just now too?”

“Trivia night people have a group chat--here, look” Hana takes out her phone and shows you a text from Colin with a picture of him smiling with his arm around what looks like Mark, his head tilted back in relief while Colin ruffles his hair.

Your eyes linger on Mark's neck a little too long before you pull your gaze away and clear your throat, saying, “I see.”

“Hey,” Hana says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “we don't have to invite them, or anyone for that matter, especially if they'll make you uncomfortable.”

“No no, thank you, uhm, there's nothing wrong with that. If anything, I probably owe the two of them a thank you, we presented to each other and they both offered some awesome suggestions that I wouldn’t’ve thought of otherwise.”

Hana regards you silently for a moment, eyes narrowing before they widen in shock as she says, “No fucking way.”

“… What?”

“I mean, the two of you becoming civil with each other finally was to be expected, but I never would've thought--”

“Oh,” you say rolling your eyes as you go to stand up, “Okay, I see where this is going--”

“So I'm right then?” Hana grabs her bag and goes to follow you.

“Absolutely not.”

“You were just gazing longingly at Mark!”

“I do not gaze at him,” you wheeze out with a laugh as you push open the doors to the Tech building.

“Okay, so why did you just freeze right now? I refuse to believe it was a nondescript brain fart and you just so happened to zone out looking at Mark's trachea--” Hana finishes her sentence in a whisper to not attract the attention of the undergrads walking past them in the courtyard.

You whip around to look Hana in the eye as you whisper-yell, “What I feel for Mark is the farthest thing from attraction, I can't possibly think of a world where he would inspire anything other than disgust--”

“Denial is a river in Egypt, my friend, and we are in the midwest--”

“God, I can't believe you--” You whirl back around and start walking off in the direction of your apartment.

“I'm inviting them over, and be at mine by 5!!” Hana shouts at your retreating form and you throw up a thumbs up to show your acknowledgment.

  Your mind wanders on your way back home; you remember eating a Pizza Bagel during your moc quals with Colin and Mark, the latter suddenly saying, “Wait! Hold still” causing you to freeze in your tracks and your eyes to widen into saucers, thinking a bug or something crawled onto you. He reaches over and gently swipes a thumb across the corner of your mouth before saying“ Rogue pizza sauce” before moving on to the next thing that caught his attention. You're still frozen in place, trying to process what just happened, when Mark absentmindedly licks the tomato sauce off his thumb like he forgot that that was just on your face and not his. Now, something like this usually wouldn’t surprise you--especially given Mark's tendency to forget the simplest of things--but for whatever reason your brain short-circuited; at a complete loss for words, for once in your life not a single thought crossed your mind--just complete radio silence and a faint fluttering feeling in your chest. You didn't notice it at the time, perhaps because you didn't want to, but that fluttering felt different than you expected. You wanted to feel a flush of anger wash over you at his invasion of your personal space but all you could muster was the nauseating fondness you felt that night he walked you home after trivia night.

This realization makes your face twist into a scowl. “Shit…” you say, burying your face deep into your coat.

  When you enter Hana’s apartment building, the weight and warmth from your jacket and the building hallway make your skin prickle with sweat. You unzip your jacket and tug a little on your turtleneck’s collar before knocking on her door. A muffled “Hold on!” sounds from behind the door before Hana flings the door open a few seconds later. “Come on in!” she hurries you in while carrying a pan of what looks like an attempt at caramelizing… something?

You take off your shoes and place them on the small rack set up next to the front door before hanging up your coat next to Hana’s on a nearby coat hook. “What are you making?” you question, the medley of smells hitting your nose almost making your eyes water.

“Chicken parm--assuming I'm doing this right,” says over her shoulder while rushing back into her kitchenette, trying not to spill the contents of the very hot pot on her person.

“Hana, I'm not sure if you're supposed to caramelize anything in a chicken parmesan dish?” you follow her timidly into the kitchen, not entirely sure you want to bear witness to what she is concocting.

“You’ve gotta have more faith in my process,” Hana says confidently over her shoulder right before the pan on the stove in front of her bursts into flame. There's a brief scramble As the two of you try to put out the fire, eventually being left with a charred mess sitting in the pan with the two of you staring at it blankly.

“... Portillo's?”

“Yeah,” you respond with a light huff.

  You're drying off and putting away dishes as Hana passes them to you after giving them a thorough scrubbing to get off the char from her attempt at cooking dinner. After about two minutes of this Hana puts down the dish she's working on and huffs before saying, “I'm putting on some music, any requests?”

You pause and think for a moment before answering, “Um… I don't know; What've you been listening to lately?”

“This is gonna sound kind of weird, but I've been on a bit of an ABBA kick lately.” She says, drying her hands off before retrieving her phone from the front pocket of her ‘That's not Burnt, that's Flavor’ apron.

“Knowing you, that's not weird at all.” You deadpan before the two of you let out a stream of giggles. Hana taps away at her phone for a couple of seconds, and Chiquitita starts playing from a speaker on the far side of the kitchen to your left. “Oo, that's a good one.”

“Darling, they're all good ones,” Hana says through a playful smirk, making you laugh. The rest of the otherwise boring task goes by much more slowly but more enjoyably with the two of you intermittently stopping to sing along at the top of your lungs with whatever song caught your collective attention, Hana occasionally using whatever cooking utensil was within her grasp as an impromptu fake-microphone. She's in the middle of a surprisingly impressive belt during Lay All Your Love on Me when a confident knocking echoes through the apartment. “Ope, is that them?” she inquires in a suddenly quieter voice with what you detect as a hint of bashfulness--possibly at the prospect of being heard through the door. She briefly checks her phone while you dry the last plate and put it away. “Yep!” she says before doffing her apron and nearly prancing to her front door.

You turn around and open up a cupboard to put away the plate you're holding, but as you reach up you feel a pair of eyes on your back. You close the cabinet door and whirl around only to be met with a pair of infuriatingly disarming green eyes. In your periphery, you can see Mark’s shoulders pitch up slightly before a toothy smile blooms across his face, catching you off guard with the sincerity of it. You clumsily return his smile before congratulating him before dawning a defensive smirk and saying, “I’m glad our corrections weren’t ignored” jokingly implying that was the only thing stopping him from failing.

A grimace distorts Mark’s smile before he opens his mouth to speak, pausing for a second before finally letting out a laugh and saying, “I was about to say that I had to because Botany isn’t exactly as easy as what you do, but saying something is only biomedical sensor engineering doesn’t exactly have the punch I ‘m looking for.” He and Colin take off their shoes and you and Mark close the distance between the two of you before he continues. “Glad to hear you passed too--what is that smell, is something burning?” Mark interrupts himself, halfway through crossing his arms when he finally catches a whiff of the residual char in the air from Hana’s cooking.

“That would be the aftermath of Hana’s attempt at cooking; don’t worry, we called Portillos as soon as the pan lit on fire.” You quickly add after seeing the color drain a bit from Mark’s cheeks.

You wonder if they’ve always been that rosy before he frantically looks between you and Hana and asks, “You lit a pan on fire?!”

“Only a little bit, we put it out quickly--the alarm didn’t even go off.” Hana dismisses Mark’s worry with a wave of her hand while walking over to her speaker to turn its volume down.

“That’s a shame, we could’ve roasted non-stick flavored marshmallows,” Colin jests from his spot at Hana’s kitchen island before she sticks her tongue out at him, sending the lot of you into a laughing fit. “Well, what do we want to do until the dogs get here?”

Hana pauses to think for a second before ducking to rifle through a set of board and card games she keeps under her living room speaker and reemerges with a small red box. “‘We’re Not Really Strangers’?” she punctuates her question by lightly shaking the box, “I’ve got a few packs mixed in here, so we shouldn’t get any repeats if we’re waiting a while.”

Colin responds in the affirmative before enthusiastically walking over to her couch and plopping down with a ‘whoomph.’ Mark shifts next to you before stating in an almost whisper, “This ought to be interesting.” The two of you look at each other and you scan his face, taking in the mirth evident in his lightly freckled face and you lightly nudge him with a wheeze of a laugh before walking over to get a seat at Hana’s coffee table.

  How can one person be so fucking warm?? You internally hiss to yourself while sitting next to Mark. The two of you still have about an inch of separation between the two of you but even so, you feel like the warmth radiating off his body is smothering you in a calm you’re trying to steel yourself against. You’re sitting in a half-crisscross position with your leg resting on top of your foot now to make it harder for you to subconsciously inch closer to Mark to try to remedy the ever-present chill that usually plagues you--with what appears to be little success considering the two of you stared out on this couch with about 6 inches of space between the two of you. Mark guffaws heartily at Hana’s answer to the card Colin just pulled and you can feel the seat shake with his laughter, the proximity of his person to yours making your heart ache dully. This is miserable, I’m miserable, why is this happening, why me? Why him?? You wonder to yourself with a slightly pained smile and chuckle while Hana pulls a card from the pile in the center of the table.

“Let’s see--ough, I hate this one; ‘What are your plans for the future?’ survive this Ph.D.” Hana immediately answers with a wheeze of a laugh putting the card in the discard pile.

“Honestly, same--I’m just glad my quals are done so I can focus my time and energy on research,” Colin answers before taking a sip of his water and looking to Mark for his answer.

“Alright, are we talking about, like, the next five years or more of what my endgame is for what I want to do with my life? Because I wouldn’t be able to securely pin that down if my life depended on it.” Mark laughs after Hana tells him to say whatever he has an answer for. He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Well,” he begins, crossing his arms, looking up at the ceiling, and slightly adjusting his position, spreading his legs slightly; it takes every ounce of willpower in every atom of your body not to look down at his legs as he does so. “I’m planning on submitting to the NASA GSRP soon, so, assuming I get awarded it, I’ll be working more with botanists at Kennedy Space Center to develop cultivation experiments for the ARES missions--If they ever happen at all.” Mark finishes with a scoff, making you frown. With the tumultuous nature of how government is run, it's becoming increasingly difficult to gauge if there’ll be funding for ambitious space missions like the budding ARES program. Mark abruptly turns to you--itching to turn the attention away from himself--and asks, “What about you?”

You’re given pause by the way Mark abruptly changes the subject, but answer anyway. “Oh, um, I’m headed to Pasadena in the spring; I’m working with one of the engineers there on electronics for a Lunar water surveyor--seems like we’re both NASA-bound. You’ll have to tell me more about the project you’re submitting for, it seems interesting--we might even be able to collaborate a little bit, depending on how far my work on this surveyor goes.”

You end your answer with a coy smirk and for a flash of a second, you could've sworn you saw Mark’s eyes briefly cast downwards to your lips before rocketing back up to meet yours. No, that can’t be possible. God, I’m losing it-- you think to yourself before the man in question interrupts your internal agonizing. “Oh, so you think I’m good enough to get the fellowship?” He inquires with a jesting tone, ducking his head to look up at you through his eyelashes, his vermillion eyes scrutinizing you through the varying shades of blond and brown.

You look at him incredulously and answer before thinking better of voicing your knee-jerk reaction, “Of course; I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” The realization of what you said hits you like a ton of bricks flying at you at Mach 1 as you see Mark’s cheeks flush. Again with the rosy cheeks? Did I make him uncomfortable? Was that too much? Shit, does he think I like him now? Fuck--

“Ah, well, I’ve got nothing to worry about then--if even you think I could do it.” Mark laughs and claps a hand on your shoulder, making you let out a huff and a chuckle in relief at his jovial tone, thinking you’ve narrowly escaped being found out.

“Alright, enough work talk--” Colin captures your attention after letting out a light chuckle and motions for you to pick up a card. “Your turn, Inspector Gadget.”

You lightly chortle before reaching over to pick a card up from the top of the pile of unused cards. “‘Do you think I’m a good kisser?’ Hana, I thought you said these were from the friendship pack???” The whole table bursts into laughter while Hana chokes out a confirmation that it is indeed from the friendship pack. “Alright, out with it, what are your verdicts?” you ask through an exasperated sigh.

“Honestly, I think you’d be a great kisser, remember when we visited Vanessa’s mom in Vegas and you somehow tied two cherry stems with your tongue? While drunk no less--” Hana interrupts herself with her own laughter as you choke on the water you’re drinking at the mention of that night.

“Fuck, I forgot about that!” you cough out. “If it means anything, I had to use my teeth for most of that--I was afraid I was going to swallow the things both times,” you confess with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I don’t know how good of an indicator that is; one of my exes also could tie a cherry stem with his tongue, but the first time we kissed he practically shoved his tongue down my throat.” Colin weighed in with a scoff before continuing, “What do you think Mark?”

Mark pauses for a moment and in that calm, you notice that he’s draped his arm over the seat cushion behind you. In an unexpected wave of wreckless confidence--at least, that’s what you’d call it--you decide to lean back into his arm, immediately relishing in how warm he is. He considers you for a moment, a surprised look on his face before answering, “Honestly I feel like you could go either way; either you’re a mind-numbingly great, or criminally terrible, no in-between” Hana and Colin break into a side-splitting laugh and you ask him to please explain what his reasoning is behind that answer. “You… you--” Mark interrupts his sentence with a breathy laugh, looking up and away from you before continuing. “Alright, look, you… have a lot of surprising things about you and they’re all, like extremes--”

“Yeah???” you interject, your face contorted into an incredulous smirk.

“Yes, let me finish--”

“Please do--”

“So, I think it would be one of those things that you’re, like, inexplicably good at for no fucking reason, or you’d exceed my expectations and be worse than I thought you’d be.” He finishes, barely able to hold back his chortles.

“And what exactly were your expectations?” you ask, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at the revelation that he’s thought about kissing you before. You try your best to stamp out those thoughts before your infuriatingly lovesick brain can indulge in them, thinking God, I’m hopeless. Mark pauses for a second, looking at you apprehensively. You can feel his arm shift on the cushion behind you as he agonizes about whether or not to tell you. “...Mark--”

“That you’d be kind of mid--” he admits with a grimace.

“WOW!” you exclaim, laughing like you just got the air punched out of you. “The amount of confidence you have in me is truly inspiring--is there anything you think I do well?”

“Piss me off--” The four of you lose your minds with laughter; you go to grip your leg to brace yourself against but accidentally slap your hand against Mark’s. The muscles in his leg tense and you freeze. You feel like you should--no, have to--move your hand but for whatever reason the signals your brain is sending to your arm are getting lost in transit, leaving your hand planted steadfastly on top of his quadricep. A spark of surprise flashes through his eyes for a moment before he moves his hand to grasp at yours, still resting on his leg. “You do that perfectly--”

“Fuck off,” you draw your hand out of his grasp, laughing to yourself and unable to look him in the eye.

☆☆☆

After your Portillos arrive you all dig in, opting to put your card game away in favor of watching a Seinfeld rerun while you all eat. Mark tries to focus on his hot dog to get the memory of how your hand felt on his leg out of his mind. I suppose that’s my fault for not noticing how close we were getting. Did they want that? Why did I want that?? Fuck, I hope I didn’t make them uncomfortable-- Mark takes a deep breath after swallowing a mouthful of hot dog to try to calm his racing thoughts. He feels a pair of eyes on him while he zones out watching the TV and turns his gaze in your direction. You stare back at him with an indiscernible expression before asking, “You okay?”

He smiles and nods, trying not to let his inner turmoil show, “Yeah, I’m good--just starting to get a little tired.” At least that much was true; the fatigue of the past couple weeks of preparation for his quals had decided to dump itself on him now that the adrenaline of the whole ordeal had dissipated. You hum and nod before patting him on the back, an alarmingly comforting gesture that Mark didn’t expect to appreciate as much as he did. The four of you continued to watch Seinfeld until he could feel his eyelids begin to droop. Shit, he thought, I can’t be this tired right now, I still need to get home-- His train of thought is interrupted when he feels you slump against his shoulder gently. He looks down at your now asleep form and huffs out a silent laugh, finding you asleep for a second time that week. He looks up to Colin and Hana, who both seem to be engrossed in the exploits of George and Jerry, before he decides to rest his eyes for a second as well, thinking there wasn’t any harm in taking a moment to rest for once. Mark nods off before he can hear Hana and Colin snicker to themselves.

===

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[because-she-goes]

june baby

warnings: swearing, edibles, matty & nora being high and flirty. Enjoy!

Matty pulled out a baggy from his suitcase, unpacking the heaps of clothes he had brought to stay with Nora for the summer. Tonight was night one, and also Nora Downey’s 24th year around the sun. She was currently taking a shower, claiming to look hideous with her oily hair and wreaking of paint - Matty couldn't disagree more, he loved every version of her without question. Putting his things away in the guest room’s dresser and setting up his makeshift work space, he lights a candle. The Maison Louis Marie “Bois de Balincourt” , one he’s rebought countless times - always finding the earthy scent relaxing. Hearing the shower cut off and Nora’s singing halt, he freezes. She’s naked in the same building as him, naked just steps away from him. He sets aside the lust - at least for a moment - and smiles at the thought of her feeling so safe and comfortable around him that she can take a shower in peace. She can be her normal, natural self. She never did feel at home enough to shower around Derek, it would always get interrupted by him barging in and making advances toward her or turning what was supposed to be a simple, relaxing “everything shower” into a frenzied sexual matter - leaving her feeling dirtier than when she walked into the bathroom.

She gets dressed in her room, throwing on a shirt Matty had given her on one of their first outings in London and some jean shorts. The shirt read as follows: Make A Woman Cum For Once, in red lettering across her boobs. She loved it, how Matty could be so mischievous and cheeky sometimes. A bad boy, if you will. Stepping out into the main area, she waited for Matty. The plan today was to go around and show Matty her New York and her spots in the city.

That all went out the window when Matty came back out of his room to the main area holding a baggy.

“Thought we’d have a fun, ‘Welcome to New- what is that?” She starts rattling off when she sees him.

“Brownies?” He hesitantly says, holding the bag higher.

“….Fun brownies?”

“The funnest.”

Matty holds out the bag to her, an excited grin across his face. He knew Nora had been stressed about him getting there safely and in one piece, insisting he get the in-flight wifi so they could still whatsapp. She splits one in half and starts to nibble on it, handing him the other half. They both eat and take a seat on her couch, flicking on whatever movie was on TV.

— An hour later —

Matty was high as a kite, giggling as Nora led him through Central Park. She was in euphoria, the high of the brownie finally settling in.

“Baby, ya gotta take a picture of me in the shirt. Its too funny!” She laughs, looking back over her shoulder.

“Okay, doll face. Ready? Give me a strut, god you’re so hot! Show me love, baby!” He cheers, fits of giggles washing over him as he clicked his camera.

A guy across the street wolf whistles at her, she lowers her sunglasses and gives him a wink. Matty nearly falls on the ground from trying to walk backwards - and yeah, she did look especially hot in her shorts and baby tee winking, hair swinging as she walked. The golden hour lighting making her skin positively radiant.

She then spots a gifts store and without warning bolts inside, Matty bumbling after her.

“Matt honey, we gotta get ya one as a welcome gift! Oh you’d look so cute in an I <3 NY shirt!”

“Sign me up, angel! Grab me a large.” He accepts, coming up behind her

She grabs a white one off the rack, swings to face him. Holding it up to him to check the fit, and nods.

“Perfect!” She happy dances and pays for it at the register.

Matty, in his… altered state, decides that the sidewalk is a perfect location to change his shirt. Taking his button down off and throwing it over Nora’s shoulders, he grabs the cheesy shirt from the plastic bag and tosses it on. As he does, a girl gives him an unsolicited “hot bod, babe!” and Nora looks like she could kill the innocent girl.

“Too bad he’s fuckin’ me, sweetie!”

Matty breaks out into more giggles at the jealousy as Nora eye rolls, walking down the street. His hand in the back pocket of her shorts.

— Two hours later —

“Hungry, handsome?” She prompts, looking at him. Sun now set, New York now lit up in all of its glory.

“Actually yeah, but we did have the pizza so I dunno about a full meal again, baby.”

“Bodega it is!” They make their way to the corner store and in the come down from the high, start grabbing snacks left and right. Doritos, oreos, M&Ms, pretzels, popcorn, you name it they buy it.

While they’re looking at the sodas, something about the lighting and the way Nora looks tonight has Matty in a trance. He moves toward her and leans in… “Come here, baby.” He takes her face between his hands and dives in.

She leans into him and moans into the kiss, feeling the corners of his lips turn up. It is slow and steady, romantic and sweet… everything she could ever want in a kiss. The taste of his peppermint gum taking over her senses. She takes his bottom lip between her teeth and pulls away, his eyes roll back.

“Fuck, you’re good.” He laughs, releasing her.

“You’re better, baby.” She winks.

“How about we head home and we settle this debate, birthday girl?”

“Was wondering when you were gonna ask that, haven’t even gotten my present yet have I?” She smirks looking at him melt.

“Fuck no you haven’t, baby.”

They walk out of the bodega and Nora hails the cab. They snack on their way home, “fuel for later” Matty says as he munches on some peanut M&Ms. She laughs, throwing a piece of popcorn in her mouth.

“Happy birthday to me!” She giggles, beaming at his flustered appearance.

[elpida]

[ MOUTH ]:          sender notices the receiver’s distress from across a crowded room, and silently mouths “are you okay?” to them. (For eris)

They wanted to move in on an area, that was normal, it's what they did but this time it was different. Eris knew her daughters location, she knew the precise pin point location of that settlement on the map and by the new plan, they'd find it. They'd find her, she'd be trapped into this system, she'd be used to force Eris' hand she'd be a prisoner, a little girl who'd have no idea why it was so bad. She wondered if they'd make her work six years or if they'd usher her to a new Mother, someone doting... and part of her wondered if they'd be better than her. The thought sickened her because nobody would ever love that girl more than she did, the thought of anyone else mothering her baby turned her stomach.

She was stuck and where she could she tried to interject, change the course but Okafor was not having it. This plan already seemed set in stone. She rarely spoke against the plans but every time she could she'd interjected, tried to twist it because they.. couldn't do this.. not her daughter, right? Not her daughter, she hadn't stayed here all this time to see this outcome. Physically she was pale, she looked like she might throw up at the thoughts in her mind and she couldn't do anything, she couldn't scream at them, she couldn't kill them all for daring to think it... all she could do was play good soldier and pretend, but Rick knew her better than that. When she caught his eyes he mouthed to her, asking if she was okay and the fact she hesitated her answer was enough to know she wasn't. Stubborn Eris Amorello, trying to keep it all under wraps.

Everything was cramming her mind, making her feel sick to her core. There was a moment she was sure the stress of it all might have had her faint but people started to file out of the room and when the door closed and only her and Rick remained she seemed to finally take a breath. Then ten huge breaths, rushed, a little frantic. She leaned, gripping the edge of the table so hard that her knuckles and fingertips turned white with pressure.

"I have a daughter." she told him and she told him because... of all the people here, she'd grown to trust Rick, despite all her judgement telling her to do it all alone she'd been able to turn to him at every corner, every bump, he'd both cheered her on at every attempt and supported her at every failed hurdle. "Her name is Emily..." she breathed, everything so tense, from her clenched jaw and gripping fingers tot he fact she genuinely seemed rigid with what she was saying, that she was telling him her longest kept and biggest secret. "..but I'd always called her il mio amore prezioso.. like my Mother did to me, it means my precious love. She is who I fight to get back to time and time again." Not a man, not a husband or partner, her.

"She's not like me-- she has my hair, I mean, my eyes she's... well she was always my spitting image, looks nothing like her Father. It is more that I mean that she was and is everything good in this world. She was so clever, always so clever, book smart where I was always skill smart. She is the brightest star in the night sky and..." Eris paused, if she squeezed that chair so hard that the wood beam of it's joinery squeaked. "...and Okafor trusts you so I need you to talk him out of this, I need you to tell him to go and move out somewhere else. Change his mission to a different more sensible place."

Emily's Father was a piece of work, he wouldn't hurt a child though.. she wouldn't be a child forever sure but he'd not stoop that low, his rough hands had always been designed for Eris. She'd been a young Mother, sold on this dream he invented for her of true love and passion and truthfully she didn't understand back then that passion and care was not anger and the use of fists. It wasn't intimidation, it was gentle and sweet, it was trust... but she did know now, that everything she knew about what love was meant to be, was because she knew the soft embrace of Rick, stroking her hair to lull her to sleep on the bad nights.

"You know that I would not tell you if I'd run out of options and I would not ask a thing of you, if I could help it." she took a slowly drawn in breath, her head briefly tilting back. "If I'm worth anything, if this alliance we have is anything to you then please, talk to Okafor for me... and you can have anything from me in return when you need it." In all these years, she'd never uttered the word please once.