#pls don’t let this flop i will actually die

[ghosttotheparty]

[jaywhere]

hello i thought this would be like 3k and it's not so pls have 8.5k of post-x3 rogue/logan about wanting to fuck b4 u die and having literally one option and it's like, super fucking weird actually.

this would probably be the first chapter of 2, idk ill see what im able to finish today ??? pls enjoy the like optimistically 1-2 of u who decide to click on this lmfao

After three months, Rogue eventually finds him washed up in a storm drain.

The sight of Logan with his head slotted into a gutter would be hilarious if the circumstances weren’t so bleak. A few years ago, she would’ve laughed and taken a photo. The sight may have cracked a smile out of her if she hadn’t been so tired, or even if he hadn’t been so damn hard to track down.

Tragically, Rogue doesn’t have the luxury of smiling. Bags tug at her eyes as she stares down at his face. Even under the flickering yellow light of the streetlamp, she can tell his features are completely unchanged, even after five years. His shoulder is bent at an odd angle, white muscle shirt completely soaked through. A thin stream of blood meanders down his temple and into the muddy runoff below.

“Guess that’s to be expected.” Rogue wipes the blood away with leather-gloved fingers.

He’ll wake up soon. The streets are completely deserted at this time of night — almost two in the morning on a Wednesday. No one to call the cops. Beneath the flickering light, the shadows cast by his features appear to lengthen before retreating again.

He’s handsome, at least. Moreso than Rogue remembers, and perhaps far more than deserved given the context. A coil of guilt curls up in her belly.

“Already come this far,” Rogue mutters. With a grunt, she stands, damp ends of her floor-length coat clinging uncomfortably to her ankles. She grabs Logan’s leg above muddy, torn-up boots. His leg hair rustles against her gloved fingers. “No use givin’ up now.”

It’s still drizzling. Ice-cold pricks of rain start to soak her back as she attempts to pull Logan out of the gutter. It seems undignified to leave him there, given what she’s about to ask him to do. Her lower back throbs in protest.

“The hell — whadya weigh, three hundred pounds?” The flickering lights are starting to make her head throb. Runoff trickles past her heeled boots with a soft hiss. When she tugs a final time, her heels slip right out from underneath her.

A frustrated scream leaves her lips before she can stop it. Her ass soaked with muddy rainwater and her hip throbbing from where it’d clipped the curb, she storms back up to Logan’s head and rips off her glove.

His coarse stubble on her fingertips is electrifying. His essence floods her through her along that thin contact of skin on skin. The taste of cheap beer, burn of cigarette smoke in her lungs, knuckles aching after a well-thrown punch, a loneliness that gnaws at the tattered edges of his soul. Virility floods through her.

She counts up to five, taking in slow measured breaths. The glove goes back on as soon as she’s done, leather squeezing tightly at her fingers.

Her back doesn’t hurt.

“Okay, darlin’. Let’s go.” Rogue tosses her hair over her shoulder before scooping Logan up. With her arms under his back and his knees, he’d almost look like a princess — if it weren’t for the way his mouth hung open, head flopping limply over her arm.

Mud and all, she tosses him into the front seat.

“Whew!” Rogue grabs a towel out of the trunk. Wipes off her gloves, her face, and strips off her coat before tossing everything back into the trunk. “I could get used to that. Wow.”

The car’s engine rumbles to life. A thick drizzle coats the windshield. She flips the wipers on and stares out at the little wavering asphalt. The gas station, tattoo shop, and convenience store on this side of the street are all closed. The only sign of life is the bar at the end of the road. Up on the sign, El Apocalipsis is scrawled in yellow neon.

Rogue snorts. “Don’t need a translator to figure out that one, do ya?” She leans over, tapping aggressively at Logan’s cheek. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Gotta tell me where to take ya.”

He doesn’t respond. The seconds tick by. The memory of unfamiliar lips gliding against her own spirals through her mind. She chases it like a feather in the wind — flash of red, the scrape of her stubble against soft cheeks — before it’s gone completely. The windshield is almost completely obscured when she looks back.

“Logan.” She taps his cheek again, harder this time. The sound of leather on skin fills the car. She’d probably stalled his healing when she touched him. A violent frustration fills the empty spaces around her heart. “Wake up.”

This time, dazed eyes flutter open. Pupils the size of saucers stare back at her. Dry lips part. Rogue can’t stop herself from grinning.

“Found ya,” she says. Hadn’t been an easy task, either. Folks a lot smarter than her had been chasing him for years. But Rogue was nothing if not determined. “Where’s home, darlin’?”

Logan blinks. He lurches forward, smashing his hand into the airbag. Rogue shushes him, but doesn’t get too close. Terror, panic, the give of a delicate neck under her broad palms; the sensation of a needle digging into the nook of her elbow. Rogue had learned that one the hard way.

With furrowed eyebrows, Logan’s gaze finally fixes on her. “Kid?”

The smile’s wiped off her face in an instant.

“I’m twenty-six.” She pushes in the clutch and shifts into first with a double thunk. Some part of her hopes Logan notices that she drives stick. “Not a kid.”

Logan stares out the windshield. His chest is heaving with panic. “Where — ?”

“You’re drunk,” Rogue answers. This isn’t going to go well. She can feel it in her bones. But drastic times call for drastic measures. “Pulled you outta the gutter. Where’s home?”

His beard hasn’t been shaved in days. The smell of sweat, beer, and smoke fills up the car. She presses her lips together and tries to cast her own motivations in piecemeal. Sixty percent pathetic desperation, thirty-five percent fear of her own impending death, five percent the nostalgic memory of her schoolgirl crush. Those had been simpler times.

“Truck — “ He wipes at his face, muddy rainwater dripping onto his palm. He turns to look out the back window. “Truck’s about two miles down the road.”

“Cool,” Rogue says. This isn’t going to go over well. It can’t go over well. The car swings in a wide U-turn. At least Logan had been walking in the correct direction when he’d collapsed in the middle of the road.

She drives slow. Logan stares at her, then out the window, then down at his own hands. She wonders if he can feel that she sapped away just a little bit of him. When she reaches, the embers of him are still alive in the back of her mind. A flash of claws sinking through skin, fat, guts, spine shocks her like a jolt of electricity.

And then he’s gone completely.

Silence sets in. Rogue gnaws on her own bottom lip.

“What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t take her eyes off the road. Logan had set up in the middle of nowhere. Water clouds the headlights like dust.

“Um,” Rogue says. She’d imagined this a thousand times. Distracted, driving in the rain, while Logan is drunk had never been one of those scenarios. Lying doesn’t sit right with her, either. “Got somethin’ to ask ya.”

More silence. The wheels churn against broken asphalt.

“Okay.” Logan’s staring at her, expectant.

She coughs. “Best wait until — um, until we get there.”

Another long few beats. Rogue’s heartbeat pounds in her ears.

“Get where?” Logan eventually asks. Rogue pulls off the road, tires scuttling over gravel. The trailer sits demurely behind a cluster of trees. “Oh. Right.”

“And you probably need to sober up, first.”

“Right.” Logan pauses. He stares at her. Even damp, his hair still twists up into little points atop his head. His head bobs up and down five times, lips twitching around a few unrecognizable words. “You’re twenty-six.”

Rogue pulls the keys from the ignition. He’s still staring, waiting for a response. “Yeah?”

His tongue on his lips. Sparse mustache stubble gives way to a thicket of beard on his chin. Rogue wonders if it’s rough on his tongue.

“Why’d you get on the train?”

Rogue squints, wrinkling her nose. It takes her a second to realize what Logan’s asking her.

“Oh.” The realization dawns on her quickly. She still has dreams, sometimes — not so much about the metal cutting through her, but about the horror-struck look on Logan’s face as he’d realized what he’d done. And then the way she’d sucked his full brown eyes completely dry. How she’d left him empty and vacant. “I, um — I almost killed you.”

“How.”

The look he gives her is heavy. Rogue can feel her eyes go shiny with unshed tears. This is humiliating. Her fingers tremble as she grips the wheel, but her voice remains steady.

“I was. You stabbed me. I grabbed you.” Her lungs burn when she breathes in, long and slow. “You were havin’ a nightmare.”

Logan’s fingers pry hers off the steering wheel. The warmth doesn’t soak through the leather.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just had to make sure.”

Rogue nods. She wipes at her eyes. It’s not the memory that’s got her tearing up, but the anxiety twisting that twists in her gut. She hasn’t seen Logan in years. No one has — not really. But the memories of him aren’t going to feel the same after this.

With rain pattering against the ceiling, she squeezes back.

“You wanna come in? Not much, but…” He trails off.

It occurs to Rogue that Logan may not love her anymore. Perhaps now, or perhaps after she tells him why she’s there. With a bit of force, she pulls her own hand away.

“Sure,” she says, cracking open the car door. “That’d probably be best.”

—

“I’d always imagined you livin’ in the mountains.” The trailer’s small, one chair, table about the length of her forearm, a few cabinets, and mattress covered in a threadbare gray sheet. “Livin’ in some li’l cabin. Happier than a pig in poop.”

Logan’s crouched at the edge of the mattress, arms clasped around his knees. “You get more southern since the last time I saw you?”

A smile tugs at the edge of her lips. “I’ve been leanin’ into it. Kinda my thing, now.”

Logan grunts. He pulls out a cigar. “Last one,” he says, shoving it between his lips.

Rogue presses her lips together. “You might,” she starts, as Logan pulls out a lighter. “You might wanna save that.”

His gaze flicks from her, down to the lighter, then back again. “Okay.” He tosses the cigar onto the cluttered countertop next to the sink. “What’re you here for, then?”

His voice is rough. A shiver rattles down Rogue’s spine. She squeezes her own palms between two bony knees, making eye contact with the floor.

“Must be serious.” The tip of his boot taps against the barren floor. It’s not just limited to the floor, Rogue realizes as she tries to look anywhere except at Logan. Dirty plates in the sink, a knife sitting on the windowsill by her arm. Nothing that could be called decoration. It makes her a little sad. “You’ve been followin’ me for a few months.”

Surprise snaps her gaze back up to Logan. “You knew?”

“Knew it was someone.” He leans back onto the heels of his palms. “Didn’t think it’d be you.”

“Oh,” Rogue says. She wonders if he’s happy to see her, or unhappy. If he would’ve stopped if he’d known. If he isn’t thinking anything because he’s still drunk. “Right, yeah. Probably weren’t plannin’ on seein’ me anytime soon.”

Rogue’s heart pounds in her ears. The silence stretches, tugging uncomfortably at her guts.

“You gotta give me somethin’, kid.”

She visibly flinches. “Oh, please don’t call me that.”

Rough leans forward, hiding her face in her hands. From between the cracks in her fingers, she barely catches the way Logan raises his palms up.

“Fine, fine. I get it, you’re not a kid anymore.”

“Just gonna make this harder.”

She breathes out, slow and controlled. She’d been practicing. Same stuff Logan had tried to teach her all those years ago that she’d never taken too seriously. Expectantly, Logan waits.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m nervous.”

Rogue had tried this conversation every which way in her mind. Had practiced in front of the mirror. Every intro flips past like a flashcard: I’m sorry I’m asking this, I promise this isn’t about some boy, I’ve missed you, I understand if your answer is no, I can just pretend this never happened if you say no, I know this is inappropriate, but…

What comes out of her mouth is, “The world is looking really not good, Logan.”

She stares at him. Scruffy, handsome, unspeakably sad. When he sighs, bowing his head, she catches a glimpse of the nightstand behind him. A pair of glasses and a little bird sit under the lamp, both cast in red. Her heart aches.

“I’m not fightin’ anyone,” Logan sighs. “I love ya. But I’m done with that. As much as I can be.”

Rogue’s mouth goes dry. “No, no, um. It’s more. It’s personal.” Heart racing, sweat squeezing out of her pores. “Can you just — I just want ya to know I’m sorry that I’m even bringin’ this up. I know — I know that you just wanna be left alone. Which is fine. And I’m honestly feelin’ like a complete yellow-belly right about now, but I came all this way, so I guess I can’t just not ask, or — I mean I could, but…”

The knot in her throat swells up. She wants to cry. Logan growls in annoyance.

“Spit it out.”

Rogue bites into her lower lip. She stares down at her own black boots, scuffed at the tip. The visions that she’d played with, alone in bed in the dead of night, wherein Logan holds her hand, squeezes her shoulders, and lets her rest her head on his chest, feel ridiculous in hindsight. The fantasy that he might even like what she’s about to ask him feels completely childish.

“Um,” Rogue says. Stubbornly, she forces herself to look him in the eye. “I wanna have sex before I die.”

Rain drizzles onto the window. The seconds tick by. Logan stares at her, confused. It takes Rogue a long moment to realize that the complete lack of response means he probably hadn’t understood her in the first place. Humiliation flushes her cheeks bright red.

“Okay,” Logan says. He stands up and digs a plastic cup out of one of the cabinets. “And what, you need my permission?”

Logan turns to her, raising an eyebrow as he holds out the cup. Rogue shakes her head no.

The tap twists on. Rogue watches as he fills the cup, the bare remnants of a logo nearly scratched off the sides. His throat bobs as he swallows, a thin stream of water meandering from the corner of his lip and into unkempt facial hair. Rogue’s jaw flops up and down like a fish.

“No, I mean — with you.”

He chokes. Water backsplashes into the cup. More spills from his mouth, dribbling onto his already-damp shirt. Rogue can’t help but flinch.

“Ha. Ha.” He slams the cup down on his counter. The look he shoots her is genuinely terrifying. “Very funny.”

This may be the worst decision Rogue has ever made.

“I’m not joking?” She doesn’t mean for the words to upturn with hesitation. Biting into her own tongue, she wishes she’d gone for sarcastic, instead. Sitting there quietly, silently begging for his approval, can’t possibly be helping. She leans back, squares her shoulders, and tries again. “I’m not joking.”

Logan’s staring at her like she’s grown a second head.

Raindrops tap on the window. Rogue bites into her own lip, tilting her chin up as she holds Logan’s befuddled gaze. No going back now.

“Why?” Logan asks. His gaze flicks down to Rogue’s gloved hands, her turtleneck, down the length of her gloved legs. “I thought you…”

Lips pressed into a thin line, Rogue nods. “The cure. Yeah. Got about three months outta that.” She laughs, the sound dry and humorless. The look Logan gives her is unreadable. “Hell in a damn handbasket, that was. Don’t know about the others, but when my powers came back — it was like I was a teenager again. Lost all the progress I’d made before.”

She remembers the way Bobby’s lips had gone stiff under hers. The agonizing seconds that had ticked by, chills running down her spine, before she’d realized what was happening. Sobbing uncontrollably over his bed in the basement infirmary. By the time he’d woken up, nearly two months later, the last vestiges of him had finally been fading from her mind.

Rogue had been the one to break up with him. At least another month of crying had followed. The conversation had barely even been necessary — just formalizing what they both had already known.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says.

She’s staring at the floor again. Logan’s wet shoes stare back at her. She had never spoken aloud any of the things she’d learned about Bobby from the facsimile of his consciousness floating in the back of her mind. She’d kept it to herself, even when he started dating Kitty a few months later. The secrets tucked away in the corners of Bobby’s mind weren’t things she was ever supposed to know. They were just a few unspoken bullet points at the end of a long list of Rogue’s regrets.

“Thanks,” Rogue says. “It’s not — it’s not fine, but I’ve made my peace with it.”

Slowly, he crouches down. Ever so slowly, he’s dripping onto the floor.

“Marie,” he says. His voice is rough and steady, painfully serious. Once again, Rogue flinches.

“No, don’t call me that.”

A laugh. “Okay, Rogue.” He holds his hand out. Gently, she places her fingers into his. The leather of her gloves squeaks as he squeezes her. “I hear what you’re saying. And I get what it’s like to be lonely.”

Guilt bubbles up in the pit of Rogue’s gut. He doesn’t need to say that part.

“But you’re young. You’re gonna find someone. You don’t need — ”

Silently, she shakes her head. “It’s not about finding someone, Logan. I’ve found plenty of guys. It’s about not killing ‘em.”

More silence follows. Rogue’s hand is shaking in his.

“I mean. You don’t have to touch someone to — “

Her gaze snaps up to his. Sarcasm spills out of her. “Logan,” she says. At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Don’t gimme that. It’s not the same. And you know it.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

Frustration overtakes her. “You think I don’t know that? Logan, this is fucking humiliating!” She rips her fingers out of his, scowling at the look of surprise that flashes across his face. “I’m an adult. I say fuck now. Don’t act so shocked.”

The corners of Logan’s lips twitch as if resisting a smile. “You were an adult the last time I saw you, too.”

She remembers. Logan had stood with her at the entrance. She’d almost wanted him to tell her to stay, to tell her how to think. Instead, he’d trusted her to make her own decision.

“I know,” she says. Abruptly, she stands up. Squished up against the cabinets behind him, Logan quickly follows suit. “I’m an adult. So I can make my own decision. And you can say no, if you want. But I’m asking.”

He’s over a head taller than her. Chest to chest, Rogue finds herself tracing out the throb of his pulse as it wanders up his throat. Logan doesn’t say anything.

“Which is — I wanna have sex. With you.” When Rogue’s gaze flicks up, Logan’s peering down at her like a hawk would a mouse. She quickly averts her gaze. “So I don’t die a virgin.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Logan growls. His hands jerk up like he’s going to grab her by the shoulders. Then they stop, falling back to his sides. “Soon. You got time.”

Rogue snorts. “Dunno how much you’ve been payin’ attention, bud, but things aren’t goin’ too well out there. People die every day.”

At the Professor’s funeral, she’d never imagined the following years of her life would be characterized primarily by a series of battles. His headstone had been accompanied in quick succession by Scott’s, and Jean’s. She’d thought the whole affair had been a life-shattering low point. In reality, it had just been foreshadowing.

“I’m not comin’ back,” Logan hisses.

Rogue scowls. She crowds into him, two hands pushing hard on his chest until the cabinets behind him stop the movement. “I’m not asking you to.”

He won’t look at her. She doesn’t know it’s guilt or shame or just plain embarrassment, but in the moment she doesn’t particularly care. A rabid sort of desperation knots her fingers up in the damp fabric of his shirt.

“I just want you to fuck me.” Up on her toes, her mouth hovers only an inch from his chin. So close, but not yet touching. “So I don’t die without knowing what it feels like.”

The warmth of his palms soaks through the thin fabric of her sleeves. To Rogue’s chagrin, he only pushes her away.

“Listen to me,” Logan says. He looks her dead in the eye. Shame makes Rogue’s shoulders curl in on themselves. She’d thought that this many years later, with the curse of an even more extensive library of hurt and grief behind her, Logan wouldn’t make her feel so small anymore. “You do not want that.”

A flash of anger sends Rogue’s fist thumping lightly into his chest. He looks down at her leather-gloved hand, confused.

“Fuck you,” she hisses. She’d been able to taste Remy’s fear every time they kissed, counting down from ten like some perverted version of stop-and-go. “You don’t know what the hell I want.”

Deadpan, Logan meets her eyes. He even bends down just a little so they’re closer to eye level. Rogue wants to slap him.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”

He squeezes her shoulders tightly. She bites her tongue, clenches her fists, and tries to keep her anger in check. It isn’t until she does that it finally occurs to her: at no point during this conversation had he said no.

“Stop trying to convince me to back off.” A strand of white hair swings between them on a pendulum. “I left the others for this. For three months. Dunno how many of my friends are dead now, or if I could’ve saved them if I wasn’t here. I knew that, and I know that now, and I’m here anyways. Because I want this once before I die. So just tell me yes or no.”

Logan is silent. Rogue wants to kill him — as if that’s even really possible.

“Or ask me a fuckin’ question or something. Anything.”

A sigh. “I dunno.”

It’s strange, the way her lips quirk into a grin. “That’s not a no,” she points out.

Logan says nothing. He looks conflicted. Later, she’ll feel guilty — but for the moment, she has to fight not to stamp her feet in glee.

“I’ll just — m’gonna sleep on it.”

He leans forward. It’s just an inch or so, but enough for Rogue to understand that he wants her to step back.

She doesn’t. Instead, she wraps her arms around his chest and squeezes him. He’s damp and warm, chest expanding beneath her cheek as she breathes in. “Thank you,” she says. “For thinking about it.”

“You’re — I’m not gonna say you’re welcome.” Slowly, Logan hugs her back. He smells like sweat. “This is weird.”

With a grin, Rogue replies, “Don’t care.”

—

The next morning, she wakes up to the sound of metal clinking and whispered swearing.

Humidity sticks to her cheeks. The stale, earthy smell of smoke clogs her sinuses. Pinpricks of light shine through a canvass of burgundy. Her back aches from the sunken spot in the middle of the mattress where the springs had long since collapsed.

In one swift motion, she sits up. Long strands of dark hair tickle her shoulders. The blankets fall from around her face, caress the bare skin of her arms, and finally pool in her lap. Logan’s already staring at her, tin mug clutched in his hand. The coffee pot spits and bubbles.

“Sorry. Was tryna…” He pauses, gaze flicking down from Rogue’s face. He turns back to the counter and clears his throat. “Was tryna be quiet.”

Her brain still fuzzy with sleep, Rogue absentmindedly digs her fingers into the stiff muscles in her shoulder. Her palm drops a moment later, tip of one finger catching in the hem of her sports bra. She blinks, remembering all at once that she’d slept in her underwear last night. Her wet clothes are hanging in the shower.

Logan still won’t look at her. When she glances down at herself, her nipples are visible through the thin fabric. She resists the urge to roll her eyes.

With a yawn, Rogue stretches. “Logan?” she asks.

“Hm?” He’s staring at the counter. Trying and failing to act normal. It pisses her off — just a little. It’s hard to imagine Logan acting this way with any other woman. Maybe his mother, or his sister. If he even has either of those.

“Could you grab my duffel? Should be in the backseat.”

Rogue stands, stretching. She turns her back to Logan and spends a long, leisurely moment with her back arched and arms stretched above her head. Trying to give him permission to look. Perhaps it’s selfish of her, but she wants him to think she’s beautiful. More than that, she wants to be able to tempt him.

When she finally bends to pick up her keys from the bedside table, she’s careful not to disturb the shades or the little bird. She turns quickly, lobbing the fob in Logan’s direction. He catches them in the center of his palm even though his gaze stays fixed on the countertop.

Rogue tilts her head. She wonders how good his peripheral vision really is.

“Got it.”

He practically runs out the door. Maybe she should lay off. Give him some space. She had been his student. They’d met when she was seventeen. He’d done his best, for at least a couple of years, to step into the gaping hole the separation from her parents had left. That’s not the kind of relationship that time or distance washes away. Rogue knows, as much as she might want to, she can’t just wish it away.

Crouching down next to the side table, she fixes Logan’s mementos in her sight. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t want her relationship with Logan to change. Suspects he doesn’t want that, either. The sun reflects off red lenses. She knows they aren’t Scott’s real glasses — the coating isn’t nearly opaque enough, and the Ray-Ban logo on the side is an obvious giveaway. And the little red bird — a Robin, Rogue thinks — doesn’t seem like something Jean would ever have owned. They’re just tokens. Reminders.

Logan doesn’t want to forget. She understands.

The door creaks open, followed closely by the thump of her bag onto the floor. Rogue turns. Logan’s pulling the carafe out from the machine.

“Coffee?” he asks. “Black’s the only option.”

The smell makes Rogue’s mouth water. She unzips her bag. “Yes, please.”

Logan had insisted that she take the little twin mattress and Logan would sleep in the truck. Rogue had protested — she could sleep in her car, or curl up in the little chair by the table if that was too cold. Logan had muttered that he wasn’t gonna be sleepin’ much, anyway, before leaving the camper. The door had slammed behind him.

The process of getting dressed is always somewhat elaborate for Rogue. Briefly, she considers changing her underwear, but — Logan would probably just book it again.

Her shirt goes on first, thumbs hooked through the holes at the end. Collar rolled up to her jaw. Thin tights from her toes up to her knees, then jeans over that. The billowy ends of her shirt get tucked in. Tighten her belt to keep everything together. She pulls on a pair of ankle socks. Then, finally, she slides on her gloves.

Logan is watching her now. He leans against the counter, sipping his coffee. She re-packs her bag until only her clear makeup bag is left. It sits in her lap for a moment before she raises it up to her chest.

“Am I using this?” she asks.

Logan stares. “Huh?”

She huffs. “It’s makeup, darlin’.”

“I know what it is.”

Rogue puts a hand on her hip. “Great. So, am I wearin’ some?” When she doesn’t immediately receive a response, she continues. “Because I don’t need to get dolled up to enjoy the company of my Honda Civic.”

Logan’s jaw is tight. He continues sipping at his coffee anyways. “You don’t need to do anything on my account.”

“Logan.” Rogue glares. She snatches up her hairbrush, running it through the length of her hair a few times. It feels like he’s playing games with her. “Are we fucking or not?”

He manages to keep the drink in his mouth this time. Only coughs, setting the mug down onto the countertop. This time, Rogue actually allows herself a quiet snicker.

“Just — “ Logan sighs, rubbing at his face. He points at the chair. “Come sit down.”

She does, but not before grabbing her coffee cup. She lets her shoulder brush up against him and swears she feels him shiver.

The single chair creaks underneath her. She stares up at Logan and tries to hold onto her own confidence. This is going to work, she tells herself. There’s no way she came all this way for nothing. Logan had always been a softie.

“This isn’t because of some boy.”

The question makes Rogue laugh. It isn’t even phrased as a question, she realizes, but it sounds just like something Logan would’ve said to her years ago. “No,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I haven’t been with anyone in three years.”

Logan nods. “The cure,” he starts. It occurs to Rogue that he’d probably spent last night coming up with the questions, preparing to rattle down the list. The thought makes her want to roll her eyes. “Know it’s hard to get now, but you could — “

“It only works once,” Rogue says. The coffee is so acidic it makes her salivary glands seize up. She swallows anyways. “I’ve tried. And don’t even think of saying anything about the fact that I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity. I know.”

In fact, she’d tried. She’d held hands with Bobby every day, kissed him at every opportunity, told him she was ready. Rogue had wanted to live her life. At the time, she’d attributed Bobby’s reluctance to the fact that they had all the time in the world. Rogue had thought that she was rushing things. She wouldn’t find out otherwise until she nearly killed him.

Logan hesitates before delivering the next question. Rogue is grateful for the moment to try and counsel herself out of her own bitterness. It’s not like Bobby had known those few months would be her only chance.

“Have you actually tried to make this work. With some guy who’s not…” Logan trails off, gesturing wordlessly.

Rogue fills in the blanks. Somehow, leaving it unspoken is worse. “My former teacher? And lowkey father figure?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she immediately changes her mind.

Logan defates like a balloon. His lips form a thin line. “Yeah?” he says.

Buying time, Rogue takes another sip of her coffee. She pretends, desperately, that this isn’t weird. “What do you mean, make it work?”

Logan’s face is red. From his nose to the tips of his ears. It won’t be until a long while later that she’ll recall this moment and understands the way Logan forges ahead as a testament to how much he loves her. In the moment, she’s just mortified.

“You understand that you can. Like the — Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You know what a condom is, right?”

Initially, Rogue wants to ask Logan if he’s stupid. Instead, she lets the question hang for a long moment. Takes another sip of bitter coffee. “They never let you teach sex ed, did they?”

“God, no.”

More coffee. It almost overpowers her own bitterness.

“That’s good. Yes, Logan. I know what a condom is. It doesn’t work like that.” Briefly, she considers going into detail: exactly what parts of a man’s body covers, the humiliation of attempting to expose only the most intimate parts of herself, the way fabric or latex would shift between two moving bodies. She keeps her mouth shut and spares both of them. “Are we done with the fifth degree, now?”

Embarrassment stains her cheeks. Logan isn’t faring much better.

“I just — I need to ask. I know you’re smart. You just gotta let me ask.”

His knuckles are white where he grips the countertop. She tries to keep a lid on her own excitement as she processes Logan’s words. Briefly, she imagines what it would feel like to have those broad palms wrapped tightly around her hips.

“Fine,” she says. Another sip of coffee. Logan seems to have completely given up on his.

He takes in a deep breath. “This isn’t some — “ he starts, before giving up. She’s can’t recall ever seeing him look this nervous. “If we do this. After, we’re gonna pretend it never happened.”

The if is spoken quietly. Rogue feels her pulse quicken. “Obviously.”

Logan’s tongue is pink on his lips. “You can’t come back with feelings later.”

Rogue narrows her eyes. The mug sits defensively in front of her mouth. “You can’t come back with feelings later.”

Silently, Logan’s thick eyebrows furrow in doubt.

“Now you see how ridiculous that sounds.”

This is not, apparently, the response that Logan is hoping for. He crosses his arms, expression shifting from an open anxiety to stern disapproval. The kind of look a teacher gives a student. Rogue’s heart drops into her ass.

“I’m not an idiot. I know you had a crush on me.”

She bites her lip. “When I was eighteen. You were my — you saved my life. Multiple times, depending on how you look at it. And even without that, it would’ve been normal. At that age.”

She sounds defensive. Panic snakes through her veins.

“And that’s not why you’re doing this now.”

She sets the half-empty mug down on the table. A fat drop of coffee sloshes over the edge and streams down the side. Embarrassing honesty time, she supposes.

“Logan,” Rogue says. “I’m a person. I know you’re hot. And obviously the fact that you saved my life, and were nice to me, and looked out for me, and gave a shit about me when I was a kid makes me like you more. But it also makes this exponentially more weird. This is weird. I’m embarrassed. If I had literally any other options, I would take them.”

The urge to cry takes her by surprise. She wants to whisper to herself that it’s not a big deal. She wants to walk out the door of Logan’s little trailer, get in her car, and never come back. She wants for the first time she runs into him to be a few years from now, when mutants can live safely, when he’s come to terms with the state of the world, when she’s unlocked the key to controlling her abilities that the Professor had always assured her must be locked away inside her somewhere.

Rogue wants that future. The one where she could hug him and thank him for always believing in her. They could drink a beer and remember the good old days. But she knows by even asking, she’s ruined that — let alone if she actually survives the next few years.

“It’s like — it’s not the romance. Or the loneliness.“ She starts talking without Logan even asking for more. She doesn’t even look at him. “Like, I’ve had romance. It’s nice, you know, but it’s kind of hard to lose yourself in that when you know they’re always afraid you’re gonna kill ‘em. And then, like, you’d think it was about the orgasms, at least, but — “

Tears cling to leather-tipped fingers as she swipes them under her eyes. As mortified as she feels, Logan stays serious. She laughs.

“I know how to get myself off. Very well, thank you. It’s literally just the experience. Like, I don’t feel like I have to. I don’t feel like I’m incomplete without it.” She sniffs, loudly. All at once, she’s grateful she hadn’t put any makeup on. “Life just fucking sucks, you know? I just wanna get laid once before I die. Without bein’ afraid I’m gonna send some poor fuck to an early grave.”

Rogue feels sick. She stares down at the table, unable to bring herself to look at Logan. She’d managed to hold it together last night. It’s mortifying, how much she cares about this. It feels almost like she’s guilt-tripping Logan, one of the only people in the world who could ever give her this, except for the fact that the tears that fall down her cheeks are completely genuine.

She’d given up on casual intimacy, then on dating entirely. Giving up on having sex shouldn’t be the hardest part. Perhaps it’s that part of her feels like Bobby stole her one opportunity to have this. Or perhaps it’s just symbolic — one last sacrifice in a long line of sacrifices.

Pathetically, Rogue sniffles. Logan remains silent. She wipes at her own tears. Logan must think of her as even more of a child, now. Crying over the idea of being rejected. Unable to deal with the reality of disappointment. A sharp flare of indignation lashes at her tongue.

“Dude, if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to search for some excuse!” When she finally glances up, Logan’s expression is much softer than she had imagined it would be. A sage kind of sadness crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You can just say if you don’t want to. I get if it’s too weird, or you’re not attracted to me, or taking some sad girl’s virginity just — sounds like a bummer! It’s fine. Just tell me — “

“Stop.”

Rogue does.

Logan drops to his knees in front of her. He pulls her hands away from her face. A protest rises and quickly dies when she sees his thumb approaching. Muddy, unrefined empathy sloshes across the open connection between them. The dull ache in her back fades.

His presence lingers even as he pulls his thumb away, slick with her tears.

“Not good with words,” he says. The warmth of his fondness radiates through her like a hug. As it fades, Rogue squeezes her own elbows, desperate for more. “You get it?”

She nods.

Logan’s thumbs are damp on the inside of her knees. “There are conditions,” he says. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way.”

Rogue sniffles. Logan reaches over her and places a small stack of napkins next to her elbow. Humiliated, she blows her nose.

“Kinda selfish, isn’t it?” She’s trying to joke.

Logan glares at her.

“I mean, how many times have you had sex? A few hundred?”

His eyebrows raise, lips quirking up. “Try thousands.”

It’s funny, at least a little. Rogue doesn’t know why, but the thought makes another sob shake through her. “You motherfucker,” she hisses, laughing at herself even as tears spill over her lashline. “I should call you a slut or somethin’, but hell if I’m not jealous.”

Logan actually laughs this time. His thumb traces out little circles on the inside of her knee. “Just means I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, regular cock in the henhouse.” Rogue rolls her eyes and ignores the confused look Logan gives her. She wipes her nose again. “What’re the conditions?”

Logan clears his throat. “Well, I gotta be gone by tomorrow morning. So we’re gonna do it today.” He leans back, scratching at the back of his neck. There’s something strangely endearing about how hard he’s thinking. “I can’t really take you anywhere.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. Rogue already knows. Mutants are safe these days, and Rogue doesn’t quite blend in. Instead, she asks, “Why would you need to take me anywhere.”

A flicker of frustration flashes in the quirk of Logan’s lips. “It’s your first time. Gonna feed you first. At bare minimum.”

Rogue can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, what happened to no romance?” Logan looks at her like she’s stupid. Maybe she is. Blithely, she decides she doesn’t care. “Or do you always take your floozies out to dinner before you let ‘em take a ride?”

She keeps cackling even as Logan continues to glare at her. “‘S’not romance. It’s common decency.”

“Whatever you say, sugar.” She raises her hands. “Your choice. I don’t care ‘bout that part.”

“What part do you care about?” Rogue frowns in confusion. “What — I mean, is there anything that you wanna do?”

“Oh,” Rogue says. Logan’s sitting on the floor now, embracing the absurdity of the situation. She lets herself admire him. The curvature of his chest, bulge of his arm muscles, way his waist narrows down so thin it almost looks delicate. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t attracted to him. Hadn’t thought about it, plenty of times before. She wouldn’t be here, otherwise. “I want you to be on top.”

Logan’s jaw drops. It only takes him a second to get his composure back, teeth clicking shut, but the initial shock had been impossible to miss. “That is not a good idea.”

She frowns. “Why not? That’s, like, the most normal way to have sex. The guy goes on top.”

Rogue knows this because she’s seen it in movies, primarily. She only realizes the words sound ridiculously uncouth as they come out of her mouth. Thankfully, Logan completely ignores that. “Because if I pass out, I weigh three hundred pounds. You’re not gonna be able to get me off.”

“I will,” Rogue laughs. She watches the gears turn in Logan’s head. “Get your mind outta the gutter. You forgot how my powers work. How do you think I got you in my car?”

Logan freezes. “Oh,” he says. “That does — yeah, that does make sense. Okay.” He stands, remarking almost absentmindedly to himself, “I mean, you’re only gonna do it once, might as well do it every which way, right?”

The comment catches her completely off-guard. Rogue imagines herself perched atop Logan’s lap, bent over like a dog in front of him, her back pressed up against the windows, her legs wrapped around his hips while he —

A broad, bare palm in front of her face. “Touch me.”

“Huh?” Rogue asks.

Logan wiggles his fingers. “Gotta know how much I can take. Come on.”

“Oh,” she says. She starts to peel off her glove. “Most people can take about twenty seconds before they pass out. Thirty seconds before they — well. It’s bad.”

She hesitates. Her fingers hover over his.

“I’m not most people.”

Logan doesn’t hesitate as he interlocks their fingers. He barely even reacts, the veins on his forehead throbbing as the connection flies open like a floodgate. She sees herself through Logan’s eyes, feels herself try to focus on the counter backsplash only to find her attention drawn right back to the one place she’s trying to avoid. The fabric of her green sports bra stretches over her chest as she arches, replaced by her own narrow waist, long legs, heart-shaped ass when she turns. She bites into her lip, cock twitching as she tears her gaze away.

A smile cracks across Rogue’s lips. With Logan flooding her mind, she dives deeper.

In the recesses between her blinks, she sees visions of herself. Beneath him, on top of him, beside him, feels the disembodied sensation of a woman stretching around his cock, all echoed through the walls of memory and imagination. The guilt comes in secondary. The details are fuzzy, staring down at the top of her little green hood with a younger version of herself curled up against her chest. The memory of the child she had been throbs painfully in her mind like an open wound, protectiveness and arousal and the insidious gnawing of self-hate —

Breathless, Rogue’s gaze flicks up to Logan. A thin stream of sweat meanders down his temple. Other than that, he looks fine.

“Have you been keeping count?” she asks.

“Three minutes,” he says. His voice is a little rough. “Thought you said you got stronger.”

She can’t help but laugh. He grins back. The connection swings open wide, the essence of Logan trickling over her skin, her muscles, her bones. She breathes in and hears the wind rocking between the trees outside, feels the camper sway side to side, smells the earth dried in the treads of Logan’s boots.

“I’ve been practicing.” Carefully, she stands up. She squeezes Logan’s hand like a vice. The acrid, bitter aftertaste of the coffee suffuses her mouth. She wrinkles her nose. “Can’t believe you drink that stuff with super taste.”

Logan squeezes her hand back. More firm than he ever has before, Rogue thinks, but the pressure doesn’t even approach the point of pain. “I got super taste?”

Surprised, Rogue laughs. “Guess you’d never know any different, would you?” She inches closer in the narrow space, pressing the back of Logan’s hand between her breasts. “Think about me?”

She’d only ever received flashes before. The impression of herself through Bobby’s eyes, the itch in Remy’s fingers to touch her. But Logan’s thoughts are almost perfectly crystallized as they shudder from his body and into hers. She can match them to the movements of his eyes: a fierce rush of protectiveness as their eyes meet, just a favor as he stares at her mouth, a whispered but that dissolves into dogged arousal as his gaze skates over the line of her shoulder.

A soft noise of pleasure threatens to rise in the back of Rogue’s throat. Her heart is pounding as she leans forward and nuzzles her cheek into Logan’s chest.

He wants her. Rogue’s free hand twists into the fabric of his shirt. His arousal reverberates clearly through the caverns of her mind, touching even the deepest parts of her as she soaks him up like a sponge. The pangs of guilt and uncertainty only make it feel that much more real.

“Logan.” She speaks into the fabric of his shirt. It isn’t until the words reach her ears that she realizes how desperate she sounds.

The arm that wraps tightly around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, is more than enough reassurance that she’s fine.

“Feels good,” Rogue mutters. She could lose herself in this. Imagines standing there forever. She could linger in the warmth of Logan’s arms, the safety of being protected, the satisfaction of being wanted.

“‘Sposed to.” Logan’s lips are warm against her scalp.

It isn’t until a gnawing pain starts to rattle down the connection that she snaps back to reality.

Rogue jumps back, and the connection connection slams shut like a door slammed in her face. Her back hits the chair with enough force to send the whole camper rocking.

“Why’d you stop?” Logan asks. He’s sweating.

Rogue’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. Logan’s still inside of her. Might be forever, with that amount of contact. She has no idea if it’s a function of time or the life force or something else entirely — the soul. Memories of herself flicker across her mind’s eye, crystal clear.

“You were hurting.”

Much less defined, a flash of red. A smile. The fierce burning of love in the pit of her stomach. An ache that rattles her bones.

The silver of Logan’s claws flashes in the morning light. “I’m always hurting.”

Breath knocked from her lungs, Rogue can only stare. She watches Logan’s veins retreat back into his arms, pallor quickly following suit. She hadn’t absorbed as much of him as she would’ve someone else. The memories are easy to push to the back of her mind.

“You get people’s memories, too, right?”

It isn’t until Logan speaks that Rogue realizes she’s been staring off into space. Logan’s still settling inside of her.

“Kind of,” she says. “Usually it’s — they’re more like feelings. And I can ignore it if I need to. Like a voice in the back of my head.”

Logan nods. His claws are the last to retreat, slotting back into his knuckles. She searches for the memory and, for a split-second, feels the fullness of her own forearm. Her eyes go wide.

“You okay?” he asks.

She laughs. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. I could go longer.” Logan shakes his head. “Try again in a second.”

Rogue nods. The phantom sensation of her knuckles splitting open slices down her arm — very deliberately, she pushes the thought away. She thinks about herself, instead. Logan’s palms on her knees. Wiping away her tears.

“How long does it stay?” Logan asks.

“Huh?”

He crouches down on the floor in front of her. “Me.”

“Oh,” she says. The warmth of him pulses in the back of her mind. Skin to skin, she wants to touch him again. Arousal throbs low in her stomach. “Depends, but — usually for a while.”

“Anything you see — “

She looks down at her own knees. “I know. I won’t tell anymore, or — ask you about it.”

Logan exhales sharply through his nose. She can feel the way the air moves across her bare hand. “You might see some bad shit. Things you can’t handle. Don’t go lookin’ for it. And if — “

“I’ll tell you to stop,” Rogue says. “If I need.”

Silence hangs. “Good,” Logan says eventually. “Yeah. Good.”

Rogue watches his face. Chapped lips pursed in a frown, crow’s feet pinched in worry, eyes fixed unwaveringly on hers. The old, broken essence of him settles into the back of her mind.

“Try again?” he asks, extending his bare palm to hers.

Rogue hesitates. She bites her lip, then asks, “Kiss me?”

Quietly, Logan snorts. Rogue almost feels embarrassed, wondering if the request is too romantic. His fingers run through her hair, then brush the shell of her ear before curling around the nape of her neck. Rogue’s anxiety settles like sand on the beach.

Once again, it’s Logan’s touch — dry lips against her own — that reassures her. Everything is fine.

[jvngkook97]

Hi ! Can i request some yoongi fluff :)

He Told Me My Fish Would Die

pairing; min yoongi x gn!reader

genre; fluff, crack, established relationship

warnings; none just a whole bunch of confused and smitten yoongs

w/c; 804

a/n; y’all know I had to do it at some point, and yes I know the song is out of order but it’s what worked with the plot so shush and don’t @ me pls and ty!! also, ty for the request anon pls send more soon. hope u enjoy <3

“…THE NEXT DAY, DEAD.” You sang with such gusto and dramatics as you stood in front of the couch staring at the tv. On cue you tilted your neck sideways mimicking what you saw in the movie. The next thing he knows you’re flailing backwards onto the couch with a hand over your forehead imitating passing out.

Sitting on the opposite side of the couch you just flopped on like a fish, elbow resting on the back of the couch with his head in palm, he doesn’t understand why you love this movie so much. But the song? Yes, he agrees. It’s cleverly catchy. He would never admit it to himself let alone out loud to you, but it was one of his favorite songs of the movie. He’s even debated about creating a personal rap for you with the beat for your anniversary coming up.

You sprung back up from the couch in a fervor, so quick it made Yoongi inwardly gasp with a hand over his heart, playfully glaring at the back of your head then letting out a quiet chuckle knowing what was coming next in your one man show. He decided to help you this time around by standing up and walking over to the light switch, flipping it down blanketing the living room in darkness besides the light coming from the tv.

Just in time as always, you grabbed your phone off the coffee table and quickly turned on the flashlight setting placing the light directly under your chin, giving your face an eerie glow. Perfect for your next favorite part of the song.

“A seven-foot frame, rats along his back. When he calls your name, it all fades to black.”

During the duration of the verse you creepily inched your way to Yoongi who returned to the couch making himself comfortable once again, this time clutching a big, fluffy pillow you picked out when you first moved in, anticipating what you were about to do.

“Yeah, he sees your dreams…”

Continuing with your eerie dance you then sprung into action, chucking your phone on the floor and made your move, which again, Yoongi anticipated. Diving for the rapper like a flying squirrel and landing on your what you thought to be unsuspecting victim, which in actuality was very much suspecting on his end. Body curling around his in a giant bear hug you yelled in such a loud voice that he’s sure the neighbors could hear you. And they were miles away.

“And feasts on your screams!”

Catching you effortlessly, making sure you didn’t hit your head on the back of the couch he wrapped his arms around your middle. Tightening said hold when you started wriggling around on his lap trying to get back up to finish the rest of the song. Alas, your attempts became futile when you noticed the look the rapper was giving you. One you’ve learned to love that made your heart swell with so much joy, if you died within the next few minutes (heaven forbid), you could die happy.

Yoongi stared into your eyes with such a love and adoration. A small smile curling at the end of his lips as he leaned in and kissed your forehead so delicately as if you were glass that could break at any second. He pulled away far enough to then switch his aim to your lips which you so graciously returned.

“You’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot and I love you. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life helping you with your theatrical needs to even more countless Disney films”. He vowed as he kept a serious look on his face that slowly cracked when he felt your whole body start to bounce from an impending laugh you were about to give.

Biting your lip, to keep yourself from laughing a little bit longer, you quickly grabbed his face in your hands and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his lips that you know he outwardly hated, but secretly loved and used the opportunity of shock and mock disgust he displayed to finally wiggle out of his hold back to standing up in front of him.

Winking at him, you turned around with a renowned flourish of your arms once again facing the tv, making it in time to finish the song with a dramatic pose.

“I never should’ve brought up Bruno!”

Hanging his head in playful disdain he let out a loving sigh and chuckled to himself, wondering how he got so lucky to find someone like you.

And then he stood up himself and started clapping so loud his hands started to hurt. Giving you your standing ovation you so very much deserved, watching as you bowed in front of him. And, he told himself, he would never fail to do. Cause you were his star. Just like he was yours.

[gnocchighoul]

the demons brothers + a touch starved mc

Lucifer

If you’re going to Lucifer because you’re touch starved, then you’re definitely going to be close to him already -- he doesn’t let just anyone touch him.

.......He’s also touch starved but won’t admit it, so one of you is gonna just have to bite the bullet and make a move.

(It’s gonna have to be you)

You’re going to have to go about this carefully--make a really good plan and then execute it flawlessly.

Literally just throw yourself at him. 

He’ll catch you. 

Probably.

Nothing says ‘give me affection’ quite like yeeting yourself off the staircase at him, and he definitely understands what you want when you latch on tight to him like a weird little barnacle that he cant peel off no matter how hard he tries dfghjkkgf

He’s really warm and he smells Really nice and he hugs you so tight, like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, so he’s honestly one of the best snuggle buddies. 

He’s gonna act all fussy about your love-attack at first--just play with his hair and smother him with lots of kisses and he won’t be able to resist snuggling u. Or banging u, but that’s your choice

Y’know, because “demons can’t resist temptation” and all that jazz. 

(tbh he just likes likes you alot)

Mammon

...Why are you staring at him like you wanna eat him?

Seriously, knock it off, you’re freaking him out!

Wait, why are you coming closer…? Get Back you Fiend don’t you DARE wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest like that what the FU--

...Oh.

Huh. This is kinda nice.

(Just hug him. If you want his affection, just wrestle him into a bear hug and don’t. let. go.)

At first, Mammon doesn’t really understand affection that isn’t along the lines of a friendly/loving punch. He’s not used to kindness. It’s a fucking tragedy. 

He doesn’t know how to ask for love because I don’t think he even realizes thats an option, tbh. 

He’s kind of like an unsocialized puppy--will definitely put up a fight until he realizes that, hey, being snuggled is nice.

Luckily for Mams, you are touch starved and determined to show his stupidass what affection is supposed to be like. 

He’s going to get so blushy. Sooo blushy. He totally pretends to not like it at first, but inside he’s over the fucking moon happy.

It takes him a while, but eventually, he realizes that he can ask you for snuggles too. At first he’s all “C’mere human, I bet you’re just itchin’ for me to hug ya, so let me make all your dreams come true!”

(It’s a defense mechanism.)

But over time, he eventually seeks you out and just flops on top of ya, and doesn’t feel the need to make a big show about it.

He feels safe with you, and that’s priceless.

Levi

Is incredibly confused about why you’re seeking out him for affection.

When you ask him if you can give him a hug, he expects you to just like... Wrap one arm around his shoulders for .2 seconds. 

Which doesn’t sound too bad, so he says “Um, sure, I guess? I dunno why you’d want to though” 

So when you climb into his lap and wrap your arms around him like a koala bear, his brain straight up blue-screens. 

Seriously, he forgets how to breathe. Don’t squeeze him too hard or he might never restart.

You smooch him on his cheek and his soul promptly leaves his body and is ejected into the atmosphere at mach 5.

This is literally better than Heaven. And he would know, he used to live there.

He totally freezes up and makes a wheezy sound that’s somewhere along the scale of “Dying Animal” and “Exploding Sink”

Needless to say, you create a snuggle monster.

I promise you that you’re never going to be touch starved again, because once you’ve given Levi a taste, he can’t get enough. 

He constantly needs to be touching you. Holding your hand or the fabric of your shirt, leaning against you, sitting with you in his lap while he plays video games--it literally doesn’t matter, he just needs that contact with you or he might literally die. 

He’s very enthusiastic about it dfghkfd

Satan

Look… Satan is very smart. 

But he’s also incredibly dense at times. 

You have to be blunt with him, or else he’s just not going to know what you want.

(Feelings that aren’t all consuming anger and hatred are still a bit new to him--he’s learning as he goes)

Just walk up to him and tell him that you need him to snuggle you right now, dammit. Lay your soul bare to him. 

He really does love that you trust him. It makes him feel all weird and fuzzy inside.

And how can he possibly say no when you set his heart alight?

That said, he is a bit of an over-thinker. 

Worries about crossing boundaries or making you uncomfortable and a million other things--give him lots of reassurance pls

He isn’t opposed at all to cuddle sessions, especially if he’s able to read at the same time. 

It definitely becomes a normal thing to cocoon yourselves up in a really fluffy blanket to read together.

Satan is honestly one of the best to snuggle with because he’s very chill about it. You want this and he wants this, so he doesn’t see a point in playing games.

So yeah, he’s chill! But he’ll also threaten the life of anybody who interrupts you guys 

Asmo

Please, he knows that you’re touch starved before you even do.

Until you’re upfront about it, he’s going to tease you by like, patting your head, playing footsie with you, giving you only the briefest of hugs--just slowly giving you a taste of his affection until you finally cave and demand that he snuggles you properly. 

(Is that a euphemism? It could be lol)

As soon as you ask he’s gonna push you down onto the nearest couch/bed/whatever and just flop on top of you. 

Honestly, Asmo wants You to be the one holding Him. He wants to use your chest as a pillow, and doesn’t he just look so cute all snuggled up to you like this? He totally does, you should take a pic of him!

Cuddle sessions are absolutely going to become a regular thing, and he makes them into a big event each time. My mans Asmo is gonna bust out the candles and the softest blankets and the fluffiest pillows.

If the opportunity strikes, he’s definitely gonna try to bang you.

If not, expect to do face-masks together. Maybe manicures. But definitely the face-masks, at least.

He’s gonna spin this into a fuckfest or a self care session--it really just depends on what you prefer sdghjk

Once you’re in his arms, he will tickle you. rip

Beel

He is the BEST hugger in the whole entire world.

When you approach him and ask for cuddles he will pull you into a hug without hesitation.

I do not care how tall you are, Beel is taller. He will engulf you in a hug and rest his chin on your head and sway you back and forth 

You want a piggyback ride? Hop on. 

Just wanna watch tv and snuggle? Great idea! :D but maybe don’t watch cooking shows or he’s gonna drool on you dfghj

(lowkey I think he would really enjoy watching human movies with you. He found Mamma Mia to be absolutely enchanting)

Want him to lay on top of you and crush you until all of your woes have been squeezed away? He will absolutely oblige you

Congratulations on your newly acquired teddy bear! Please don’t forget to feed him.

Literally just sit on his lap or wrap your arms around him whenever you want, he’s always down for a good snuggle. 

He’s by far the nicest about it too, he won’t tease you about it and he will never hold back from telling you exactly how much he loves holding you in his arms

Definitely loves to be the big spoon but has no problems with being the little spoon either. 

He’s just so fuckimg SWEET

Belphie

Oh, you're touch starved? Perfect. He's been in the market for a good snuggle buddy.

You silly human, why didn’t you come to him sooner?

Don’t listen to what Asmo says, snuggles are Belphie’s domain.

Once it’s established that you two are going to be snuggle buddies, he will literally just abduct you for snuggle time. 

He doesn’t care what you’re doing, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and haul you off to his blanket nest whenever he wants.

He just wants you all to himself. 

Will share your snuggle time with Beel tho.

After abducting you, he's just gonna toss you onto his bed and fall on top of you. He's really warm and he really just wants to lay on you. Partially so that you cant escape once he falls asleep lmaoo

He's happy to just talk to you about whatever you want while you guys get your snuggle on, but be warned: he's eventually going to fall asleep. 

Probably mid sentence. 

He won’t wake up when you poke at his cheeks or shake him, either. So uh. I hope you’re in the mood for a nap too!

Get matching sloth onesies with him. He’ll tell you it’s stupid but he’s actually thrilled with them. (Make sure you also get Beel a bear one though)

((part two with the undateables + Luke))

[moonlightdancer26]

What are some tropes (not hp tropes) that you HATE?

Oh boy *cracks knuckles* I have a lot.

Aight, let’s get to work:

A character misunderstanding or only hears a part of it then gets mad and doesn’t let the other person explain (this pisses me off so much)

Miscommunication (LIKE BITCH TELL THEM WHAT’S BOTHERING YOU, YOU COWARD. IT AIN’T THAT HARD), like it’s so lazy and is only there to create drama

Main hero getting with the main heroine. It feels so forced and most of the times they’re so much better as friends. Like damn platonic relationships exist too.

Little miss prefect gets with the popular jock and the author portrays it as ‘‘power couple material’’

Fake dating (I hate this trope so fucking much)

Finding your lost long family (or family member). Just… no.

Everyone is a good guy in the end (like no stop ruining my evil faves)

No one dies and they all live happily ever after (JUST NO. I WANT PEOPLE TO DIE AND SUFFER 👹)

Forced marriage trope (ew)

Pregnancy trope (unless it’s at the end of the story). It completely ruins the ENTIRE story for me, not even joking.

The villain saying shit like ‘‘if you kill me you’re no better/different’‘ like no there’s a clear difference. Go jump off a cliff, you wank stain.

Old friend suddenly disappearing during the main character’s childhood, and after like 10 years (or more) they come back and the main character falls in love.

The main character is the new girl and there’s a ✨mysterious bad boy✨ whom everyone fears—despite the fact that most of the times the ‘‘bad boy’’ is cringey af and is a try-hard—and the main character changes him. Get this cliche ass bullshit away from my face.

Badass feminist tomboy who has like 1000000 older brothers who flip flops her long ass hair like some fucking horse and expects it to be attractive whose horrible deeds gets brushed off. Or worse, when the girl points out bad things other characters did (in which the circumstances are 100% different) and victimises herself. This might just be my least favourite trope.

The guy leaves the girl cause it’s ‘‘what’s best for her’’ like dude she can take care of herself, thank you very much.

When someone’s possessive and jealous to the point of actual stalking and obsession and it’s portrayed as romantic

Love triangles (though sometimes it can be good). Like ffs polyships exist.

When the main character is stuck between two brothers which consist of one really nice guy who treats her with nothing but respect and of one really shitty dude who bullies and harasses her because ‘‘i liked you and didn’t know how to deal with it’’ (like dude stfu) and both brothers are drop dead gorgeous and the girl is supposed to be average and “relatable uwu.” [Ok this is oddly specific..]

Stockholm syndrome. pls no-

There’s a million more but I’ll shut up. I’ve been called picky but I don’t think I am, I think these are pretty normal tropes to hate (correct me if I’m wrong).

[luna-writes-stuff]

hey! have you hate watched rings of power yet? if so what are your thoughts ? - 💙

ooohhh you’re asking dangerous questions now and I’m gonna get a lot of hate but whatever

i think this show would’ve been great if it wasn’t from Tolkien’s works. Because they created an entire story that has nothing to do with the original Tolkien works, save for like 10 percent. I think this show would’ve done very well had it not been inspired from his books.

Because, this whole show has absolutely nothing to do with the entire creation of the rings, this is not how it went, this is not how the characters were etc. etc. Of course, shows aren’t going to be 100% accurate, for the sake of cinematography and drawing new fans (see the Peter Jackson films), but this is a whole new definition of ‘drawing new fans’. The series is shit, the characters look like shit, who tf is meteor man, wdym they want to shorten the second age so humans won’t die every season, durin is actually a family line, #notmyfinrod, #giveussexyfinrod, #finroddidnotsacrificehislifetosaveberenandhelpcreateoneofthemostimportantlovestoriesofmiddleearthimeanhelljrrtolkienandedithwereburiedunderberenandluthienbutnooooocuzwhotfcaresaboutthemanymore, where is sexy sauron, where arE THE BEARDS, “high lords only” suck my ass, warrior Galadriel pls no just don’t, where tf is celeborn, what the actUAL FUCK IS CELEBRIMBOR, WHEN WILL WE SEE SAURON TF LITERALLY THE WHOLE STORY REVOLVES AROUND HIM AND HIS MANIPULATIVE ASS

and it throws away all the stories tolkien wrote and shared with the world. Were you going to make a show about this period, at least get the rights to the right books, such as the Silmarillion and Unfinished Tales. If you cannot get them, don’t create a series nonetheless, because it is going to flop. Hard. Everything I’ve seen this far just hurts to watch, let alone realise that this is the thing that will draw new generations into the ‘Tolkien-verse’. It’s horrible. Throw the whole series away. Burn down Amazon. Fuck Jeff Bezos. Not my Tolkien.

As I said, I genuinely believe it would’ve done great had it not been inspired from Tolkien, I truly believe that. But with what they had to work with, and what they created? Get fucked.

[cheeriecherry]

Can I get a cup of uhhhhhhhh dating headcanons? For Todo, Baku, and everyone's favourite sleepy dad?

One cup of headcanons, coming right up!

Warnings: Just fluff

Todoroki Shoto

-Actually getting to the dating stage is kind of a wholeass mission. I wholeheartedly believe that Todoroki is the dumbest smart person ever; he’s clever and strong, but he also strikes me as the kind of guy who thinks 1KG of steel is heavier than 1KG of feathers.

-Lol everyone knows you’ve got a crush on him. Everyone except for him. He just doesn’t think that much about dating or romance or anything like that, unless prompted. His whole life, he’s been forced to focus on hero work, so it’ll take some time for him to get out of that mentality.

-He doesn’t clue in to his feelings for you, not for a while at least. He’d start off pretty indifferent towards you like he was with everyone else, but over time he’d begin to notice that he likes having you around. He feels more relaxed around you, and more inclined to converse and be present and friendly. 

-I think he’d chalk it up to ‘is this what friendship feels like’ meanwhile he’s out here training extra hard in hopes that you’ll see and be impressed.

-Someone will probably have to say something to get him thinking about his feelings for you. Either that, or he accidentally admits to you that he has a crush on you, but he doesn’t know it’s a crush, and you’re just like ‘oh bby’. You’ll have to spell it out for him.

-He finds you after class one day and asks to take a walk around campus to talk, and you’re like ‘okay sounds cool’.

-It’s a little awkward and quiet at first, and eventually you’re like ‘are you okay, did you need to talk about something?’

-And when he turns towards you his cheeks are flushed and he looks uncharacteristically flustered. Then he goes on to tell you how whenever you’re around, his heart beats faster and he gets warm even though his quirk isn’t active, and how he always wants to impress you even though he doesn’t care what other people think.

-He probably admits some really dumb stuff too, like how he still has the pencil you lent him at the beginning of the year, or how he fell on his ass during training because he was too busy staring at you.

-Pls be kind to him when you tell him about feelings. I think it will surprise him for like 0.5 seconds, but then he’ll be like ‘oh that makes sense’ in his usual way.

-Even after all that, you’re gonna have to be the one to ask him on a date. He’ll definitely say yes to you, but would still struggle with asking for himself.

-Anyways, once you guys have gone on a few dates and decide to make it exclusive, it’s a pretty relaxed relationship. He trusts you, so he’s pretty up front about everything, and if he doesn’t know what he’s feeling he’ll let you help him work through it.

-He’s not always clueless though, and he gets a lot better at expressing himself the more time he spends with you and the rest of the class.

-He’s pretty into casual touches, which he figures out after you sit beside him on the couch in the common room and set your head on his shoulder. He’ll ask you in private if you could do things like that more often, and over time he’ll start reciprocating, and it’ll just be a relationship full of head pats and held hands and forehead kisses.

-Also pls cuddle him when it’s just the two of you. Hold him close and run your fingers through his hair. 8/10 times he’ll fall asleep.

-Will want to train with you, and during class exercises he’ll seek you out as a partner/opponent. He wants to learn how to work with you, in case the need ever arises. But he also just wants to spend time with you, and likes watching you be bad ass.

-If you’re upset with him, or not quite feeling so great, please tell him. Don’t give him the cold shoulder, or be like ‘you know what you did’, because he absolutely will not know what he did. Let him know if you have an issue with something he did, from small things like eating the last of your chocolates, to more serious things like accidentally doubting your skill or flirting with other people. Just. Verbalize how you’re feeling.

-This also goes for when he does something good. Tell him when he’s made you happy, or helped improve your mood, or validated your feelings, or smth. It’ll reassure him that he’s being not only a good friend, but a good boyfriend too.

-Also,okay so he has that thing where he looks cool and aloof at first, but is actually soft and big-hearted right? There’s a whole bunch of other things he doesn’t show at first, which you are the first person to experience.

-He’s hella shy about kissing you. He’s pretty chill about PDA like holding your hand and hugging you and stuff like that, but kisses? It’s just such an intimate thing to him.

-Once he figure out he really wants to kiss you, he’s relentless in trying. Probably tries at the most inopportune times though, like at lunchtime and in the middle of class. Don’t be too mad at him, it’s the only thing his brain cell can concentrate on.

-So much so that he takes a hit during training and falls flat on his back. And you’re like ‘oh shit??’ and rush over to him once he doesn’t get up right away. You kneel over him and ask him if he’s alright, gently touching his cheek to try and calm him.

-And he just stares up at you because you look like an angel. Deadass blurts out ‘I want to kiss you so badly’ without a second thought, and smiles his little smile when you get flustered.

-And that’s how your first kiss happens, in the middle of an arena with your whole class watching. Aizawa probably scolds you.

-All in all, I think he’d be a pretty good boyf. He’d need some patience at first, and a lot of verbal affirmation and open communication, but that’s a good thing to practice in any relationship. He loves you a lot and is devoted and caring and always willing to fight for you.

Bakugou Katsuki

-God, okay, definitely the shoutiest boyfriend. He’d probably be pissed af when he realizes he’s catching feelings for you. He’s definitely not verbal about his feelings, but he’s not stunted like Todoroki is. He knows what he’s feeling, he just doesn’t like it.

-He thinks you’re a distraction to him, and probably takes it out on you. After all, if you hate him then it’ll be easier to let go of you and he won’t have to deal with you being around him.

-Sike tho, either he makes you sad and instantly feels guilty about it (which he hates), or he makes you Big Mad and you serve him his ass on a silver platter. Both ways, he’s not able to make you dislike him, and he only ends up liking you more.

-He’ll calm down after a couple weeks though, and come to terms with the fact that this is his life now and that he’s gonna have to deal with the annoying heart palpitations he gets whenever you’re around.

-Though a bonus I guess is his palms also get sweaty when you’re nearby, which means more explosions. Which we all know is a good thing for boom boy.

-Over time, he begins to slip up, and you begin to notice. His gaze lingering on you during training and during class, his lack of insults towards you, just generally being less unpleasant when he knows you’re around. Some of your classmates have also picked up on it, but none of them have really put two and two together.

-You have, though, and you know he won’t be the one to make a move. So you corner him one evening outside the dorms and confront him about it. He vehemently denies it, but all it takes is for you to look at him and he huffily admits it.

-Nothing is really agreed upon right then and there, but as the days and weeks pass, you pretty much just end up dating. You spend more time together, studying or training or goofing off. Well...he doesn’t really goof off, but he sits nearby while you do. You even convince him to come to game night with the bakusquad and -after much poking and prodding- he even plays a couple rounds of mario kart. 

-He either wins or he accuses everyone of cheating. It’s funny to watch.

-He doesn’t really know how relationships work, so be patient with him also while he figures it out. If you’re mad at him, don’t try to act snide about it because it’ll just end up blowing up in your faces. He might grumble if you tell him outright, but overall he’ll try to fix it. He’s a ride or die boyfriend, and however temperamental he is, he hates making you sad.

-Also he’ll never say it out loud, but he loves cuddling you. He’s pretty strict about not showing his softer side in public, so most of your more affectionate gestures are behind closed doors. Sometimes he’ll just show up at your dorm room, slam the door shut, and flop down on your bed. This is his way of saying ‘i feel like shit, come pet my hair’. 

-Most of his needs are conveyed nonverbally, so you’ll have to learn how to speak Bakugou.

-The only time he’s ever told you what he wanted out loud is when you guys had your first kiss. He was noticeably tense throughout the day, so after class you pulled him aside and asked him what was up.

-You hadn’t expected him to turn tomato red and mutter that your lot of friends had been teasing him earlier about kissing, and his lack of experience. You asked him if he wanted you to go kick their asses, and he was like ‘no, i want you to kiss me’.

-Cue both of you being flustered. But it lead to a really sweet kiss, soft and surprisingly gentle and thoughtful. 

-He’s more open about kissing you publicly, if not for the fact that he’s low key addicted, then definitely because it sort of lays his claim on you without being too mushy. But those kisses will be shorter and cooler than the ones you share behind closed doors.

-When it’s just the two of you though? He’s got you held close while your lips meet, fingertips sliding across your jaw and arm held fast around your waist. Those are the kisses that lead to heated makeouts usually.

-All in all, also a good boyfriend. Abrasive and loud, but loyal and smart and willing to explode everyone if it would make you happy. He calms down over time once he gets used to the relationship, while still maintaining an air of pride. Will never hesitate to brag about you, and will affectionately shout compliments at you whenever he feels like it.

Aizawa Shouta sleepiest dad

-Anyone who knows him knows that he’s got a busy life. Between teaching and being a pro hero, he probably doesn’t have a lot of down time. So you have to be okay with him having so much work.

-He doesn’t mind if you miss him during the days, in fact he would be mildly off put if you didn’t miss him (at least a little), but you can’t be someone who would try and make him change his schedule permanently to give you more attention.

-A day or two off here and there? Sure, the occasional lazy day break is nice and also reasonable, but I don’t think it would work out if you were super clingy.

-It probably gets a little difficult when the dorm system is implemented at the school, since he’s there overnight most of the time now. I think that’s one area where he’d be willing to try and implement a better system, whether it be having you on campus with him during the nights, or allowing him to head back home.

-Because as busy as he is, he’s not a neglectful partner. Even if he’s dead tired when he comes home, he’ll always take the time to greet you and sit with you and ask you about your day and tell you about his. He’ll lay back on the couch with you across his chest, and listen to you tell him about all the dumb shit you’d witnessed throughout the day.

-He’s a little rigid about PDA, mostly because his friends tease him and he doesn’t want to risk any of his students seeing (lest the also tease him), but he’s fine with casual affection. Walking with your arm tucked around his, hugs, chaste kisses, that sort of thing. He’s an adult in a relationship, he’s not gonna deny you any of those things just because he’s shy (though he will never admit that).

-Despite his outward uncaring appearance, he’s actually really intense, and feels a lot. He’s an emotional person, he’s just really good at keeping it on the down low. So you’d have to be pretty good at reading him in order to get him to open up, but also not push him too hard. Let him know that you know he’s stressed about something, but give him the room to make the choice in coming to you.

-He’s a pretty low maintenance boyfriend. He doesn’t need all the bells and whistles and fancy dates. He’s fine making dinner together and then hanging out to watch a movie, or maybe occasionally going out for a drink or a walk. What he cares about most is spending time with you, and just getting to be around you.

-But he is still perpetually tired, so he’ll be most happy on his own couch. Dinner and movie nights often lead to cuddles, which often lead to soft kisses, and then more heated kisses, and then hands touching you everywhere.

-It’s very easy to get carried away when he kisses you. Unless you’re in public, even the smallest kiss could snowball into a good romp, granted you have the time. He’s intense and firm, but his lips are warm and pliant, and he kisses you the way he needs oxygen; desperately and absolutely.

-Arguably the best boyfriend, but maybe i’m biased because he’s my type lol. He doesn’t ask for a lot, but requires your respect on the few things he needs, and in return he’ll be there for you when he can. And when he’s there? His attention is solely on you, all his thoughts and energy. He’s quiet and patient and loving, and behind closed doors he’s pretty affectionate. If he’s dating you, then it isn’t just something casual; he’s already seen that you’re someone worth putting his time and energy into. By the time he asks you out, he’s probably already in love with you.

[littlemisslipbalm]

Little Border Town Pt. II

Summary: Harry starts to find himself more and more drawn to the bookshop owner. She’s maybe not as annoying as he first thought. And maybe Harry isn’t the worst like she thought either. A little notebook, drinks, shoes, and a boat begin to show each other that. 

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck. 

ello loves,  part 2 is finally here pls let me know what you think!! barely proofread sorry... also i think theres gonna be quite a few parts to this because i keep not getting all i want to say said in each part. and im trying to keep the chunks relatively short. — also I made one direction lowkey exist bahaha

Word Count: 9.2k | Warnings: flirty fighting/banter, slowburn 

Part 1

-

The next day Harry found himself walking into the bookshop next door without really thinking about it. He hadn’t seen Y/N again for his early morning run and he had his list for her of the Paul Simon albums he already had. They hadn’t had their windows or shades open last night either so it was the first night he didn’t give her a salute and she didn’t flip him off. The jostle in routine seemed a little weird to him so as he walked through the shop's door and the bell sounded, he thought the smile on his face was because he was well rested and unbothered by anything.

Y/N had slept in this morning. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the beginning of Fall always put her in a cozy sleepy mood. She wanted to go to a pumpkin patch and watch a fire burn out in a fireplace. She wanted to listen to her halloween playlist and plan out an intricate costume with her friends. All of this was a wistful dream though. She had quickly learned that the little border town didn’t celebrate Halloween how they did in the States or any major cities. It was okay, at the end of the day, even if she was a little bummed about it. This was her new life and she would have to adapt to the new customs.

After she walked downstairs and unlocked the door, she went back over to her front counter. Yesterday, right when Harry had come in, she had found a booklet of Marie’s. It was leafed over to the point that all the pages were crinkled and dirtied from hand debris. Each page was filled with her loopy handwriting, all of it in French. She must have only liked blue pens because even if the type changed over different pages, the color was always blue. Each page was headed with a name, a customer’s name Y/N was starting to realize as she leafed through the pages. She sat back on the wooden stool she had gotten for behind the counter and propped the book in her hand. After the name of the customer there were extensive details on them. Not their purchases specifically, but their preferences, their personality, and just tidbits about any quirks they had or interesting things Marie had decided were of note.

She found many names that were now familiar to her after her few months of living in the little border town. There really weren't that many people to get to know and the tourists were starting to die down now that the school year was getting back in. After a few minutes of pouring over Monsieur Friedfrickson’s page, who lives across the street from her and runs the flower and gardening supplies shop, she flips to an even more familiar name’s page.

“Harry Styles.” The page had the name written out in strong tall letters. Marie had used a blue inky pen for his page, not a ballpoint. “Likes Music. Poetry. Love stories. Romance with a happy ending, but also likes the practical love too.” The interests are laid out plain and she purses her lips at the idea that Harry is interested in romance novels. She wondered what type of poetry he liked since Marie didn’t seem to think that had to be elaborated on. “He’s a special one,” it reads and Y/N scoffs to herself, really Marie? She reads on, “His heart is in the right place, but he’s got a mouth on him. Quick-witted and charming, but kind-hearted and sincere.” She pauses, and flicks the page back and forth, checking that it still reads Harry’s name when she gets back to it. Was she really the only one who found Harry vapid and annoying? Sure she had softened a little towards him since she had arrived, but they were by no means friends. “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually-” it reads and she mutters to herself, “Ok, now we’re getting somewhere.” “While seemingly perfect in every way, Harry is actually scared of his own shadow.” “This can’t be real!” She once again scoffs at the book and looks up to the ceiling like Marie is going to talk back to her from beyond. “His exterior persona is very strong, both physically and in his personality, but it seems like he’s just waiting for that right person that he can really be vulnerable with and let them into what he’s really thinking. He’s looking for his Angie.” Now she’s just confused. Who the fuck is Angie? She almost doesn’t finish reading the page because honestly it’s just making her mad, but there’s only a few more lines. “Lots of tattoos, why so many tattoos? Thinks he’s funnier than he is. Flamboyant Harry is best.” And beside that last sentence is a star. She tries to hold in her laughter. At least it wasn’t a complete page of praise for Harry.

Thinking back to her knowledge of Harry, she realizes that Marie must have known him for about three years. Maybe more if he had come to visit before moving there officially. She agreed with Marie that Harry had a lot of tattoos and that he thinks he’s funnier than he truly is, but she was yet to see flamboyant Harry. She knew he painted his nails and wore rings, as well as interesting clothes, but she wouldn’t say he was particularly flamboyant for any of that. That comment definitely piqued her interest. When would Marie have seen Harry where he was being flamboyant?

Her eyes scan over the page once more and realize that this book is only for the most current year. Marie re-did the customers' outlines every year. So this was this past year before Marie died. She wondered where the other books might be and if Harry’s outline had changed over time and also if her name was in the one from when she had visited. That would be interesting to read. It’s strange to read a dead person’s private musings. To her knowledge, no one else alive knew the contents of these pages and these pages seemed especially personal since they spoke of people’s lives and who they were at their core. Maybe that’s why she didn’t hear the chime of the door this morning when the first customer arrived.

Her eyes don’t shoot up from the page until two ringed hands enter her eye line on the counter. The tanned skin, with the gold and silver dazzling rings on each finger and the cross tattoo all register in her mind as her eyes go wide. She snaps the book shut when her eyes meet Harry’s almost ivy green eyes - they’re darker in the foggy fall light streaming through the window today. She hadn’t even turned on the lights yet in the store, the natural light being enough for her this morning. The book is clutched in her hands as Harry’s smile widens to a grin of amusement.

“What have you got there?”

There’s no cover on the book so he can’t make anything out about it. He assumes it’s some novel she’s embarrassed of and has chosen to slip the cover off of to keep anonymity of it. This assumption is why his tone is so teasing and why she grimaces at him in response. Her cheeks have also tinted themselves, she’s flustered that the man she had just been conversing about with the book was now in the store.

“None of your business.”

“I guess not.” He replies easily when she responds curtly and places the book out of sight somewhere under the countertop.

“Why are you here again?” She’s avoiding his eye contact now, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been even though it was perfectly within her right to read something that now belonged to her.

Harry’s smile falters with her followed curt reply. Annoyance settling in, Harry straightens up and removes his hands from the counter. The familiar feeling doesn’t exactly feel nice, but familiarity is better than discomfort. “You wanted a list of my Paul Simon records? So you could order me one I didn’t already have?”

She looks at him curiously as the conversation comes back to her from yesterday morning and she nods. That conversation was real. “Oh yeah, I said that.” She replies, still not looking at him. “Okay,” she says when he doesn’t move or do anything. Her eyes widen, silently asking him to get on with it.

His hands shove into his pockets, searching around for a list he apparently had made. They come out empty. He pats over his jacket pockets and feels nothing but his phone and wallet, no list. “Fuck,” he mutters beneath his breath. She scratches at her eyebrow and sits back on her stool, seeming like she might be waiting awhile. After a few more minutes and no produced list, she sighs. “Do you just want to go next door and grab it since you obviously forgot it?”

“I didn’t forget it…” His voice is low and he shoots a glare at her, the annoyance that had come back had now doubled.

“You did, but it’s okay if you can’t admit that-”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket!” He insists.

She rolls her eyes and stands up. Walking to the front door, she looks on the ground and then a little ways outside. “I don’t see it, just go back and get it. You probably left it in your boudoir, it’s fine.” Her tone is a little less condescending now and more understanding. She forgets stuff all the time and she really wasn’t trying to be rude when he first came in. He had just startled her is all.

He turns around to face her. Her body is now completely out in the open area of the front of the store. His head tilts and one of his loose curls flops over his forehead while he takes in her appearance. “Why do you do that?”

She wets her lips and steps closer to him, more on her way back to the counter than anything. “Do what?” She’s oblivious to what he’s taken note of.

“When you have a conversation in English you’ll swap in some words that are French. They’re easy words to figure out and you don’t do it a lot, but you’ve done it enough times for me to notice.”

“Oh...I don’t know. I prefer French to English. It’s so much sexier.” She walks closer to him and utters her next sentence as she brushes past his shoulder. His gaze follows her every movement. “Would you prefer a girl to whisper in your ear, “let’s go back to my bedroom” or “let’s go back to my boudoir.”?” Her French accent hangs in the air with the word and compared to the hard American accent she had employed for ‘bedroom’, ‘boudoir’ sounds far more dirty this time than before.

A shiver rolls down Harry’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. She shrugs her shoulders, “I think the answer is clear.” He clears his throat in response and a smile grows on her face. “Don’t you agree, monsieur?” She leans her head into her hand now that she’s behind the counter and looks up at him sweetly. He knows she’s teasing him now, her smile more of a sultry smirk.

“Piccola diavola,” his Italian rolls off his tongue and she squints at his words. She knows “devil” but the first word troubles her - it just means little. Her Italian really wasn’t strong and it hadn’t improved that much since she’d been in the little border town. But she also wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what he had said. Harry chuckles at her confusion and relaxes now that he feels the playing field has leveled once again.

“So your list… Do you want to go grab it? Or if you can just list it off the top of your head? As enthralling as your conversation skills are, I actually don’t have all day.” She trails off again, her questions lilting from her mouth after regaining some composure.

“I wasn’t the one teasing about taking someone up to their bedroom,” he huffs. Her face colors with crimson. While she had been teasing him, she didn’t want to be called out for it.

“Wasn’t teasing…”

“So it was a serious offer?” He inquires with a lop-sided grin, changing the meaning behind her words in one fellow swoop.

“That’s not what I was saying! Shut up and give me your list.” Now her blush was all over her face and neck, and she was totally and completely flustered by Harry.  She glanced down at her hands that were fiddling with a pen and paper, ready to write his words down.

“I can either shut up or tell you my list. But it’s sadly one or the other, love.”

She groans and takes her free hand to run it over her face. “Just tell me what you already have, Harry. Please.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckles and spreads out his hands in front of them both. He crosses back to the counter and leans on it once more. They are in close proximity once again, only the counter between them now and she can feel his hot breath fan over her softly. Smells of wintergreen gum, her favorite.

She glances up at him and their eyes hook together for a moment before she tears hers away to look back at the paper. He rattles off a good amount of Paul Simon’s albums and she nods approvingly as she scribbles the names down. She would have to look through his discography to find the ones Harry didn’t have and she probably could’ve made Harry do that and then give her that list, but she didn’t. It was too late now to do that as well, so she’d just have to live with her decision.

When he finishes, she glances at him once again. His eyes are very large. A detail that isn’t really important about him is seared in her mind. They’re big and they’re staring right at her. His pupils are almost as big as his irises, it was interesting. Her eyes shift under his gaze after a beat and she straightens up again. While they went over his list, she had indulged in the close proximity, the mingling of warm breath and brushed hands as she scribbled and he pondered. She nods a farewell, “I’ll let you know when I order next, but I won’t say what album you’ll get. It will be a surprise.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” his smile snaps back to his face and he scratches absentmindedly at his side. He hesitates before exiting the store. “I have a question.”

“Don’t need my permission.”

He emits a half-laugh, half-scoff from his parted lips. “Wasn’t asking for it...How come you never go out?”

She stares at him curiously, her head tilting to the right. “How would you know I don’t get out?” She challenges him.

“There’s only one pub in this little town and I’m your next door neighbor. I know.” He’s insistent on being right.

She scoffs, but only in an attempt to cover up her embarrassment. Her skin had finally cooled from all the excitement that had happened earlier and she wasn’t in the mood to grow red once again. Today was the first day she had ever felt flustered by Harry. It was annoying, it made her feel out of control. She liked to go out well enough, maybe more than the average person. But she’d only been in the little border town for a few months and going out hadn’t been on the top of her list of things to do. Sure, it would be nice to go get a drink out in the town, but she didn’t really have anyone to go with. Meeting people wasn’t hard in the town, but there weren't many people who were her age and she hadn’t particularly clicked with anyone where she would want to go out on the town with them. It was embarrassing to face the fact that she wasn’t flourishing as much as she had hoped. She was happy, but being confronted with the truth that she hadn’t gone out yet dampened her belief in her success in the little border town.

“I - It’s not at the top of my list of priorities,” she stutters, her chin raising a little in indignance.

One of his shoulders shrugs and Harry makes a little face as if he was indifferent to her answer, even though she knew much better than that. Harry always wanted to get a reaction out of her, maybe that was all he gained from their interactions - entertainment. She didn’t know, but she didn’t feel like giving him the satisfaction and left it at that. His eyes meet hers again, his stare far more intense now. “Ciao, diavola.” He simpers, repeating the little nickname. It was far more sultry of a nickname than ‘Shrimp’ but she wasn’t going to complain. She rolls her eyes in response, the only correct one at that.

-

That night, she found herself feeling pulled to journey down to the pub. It was on the Italian side and like she had acknowledged to Harry, she hadn’t been. She wouldn’t admit to anyone, especially not Harry, that his question had been what had pushed her towards the establishment when night fell. Yet, here she was. Her pants were dark red silk that matched the black tank top with red embellishments that she wore over her chest - the only part of her it really covered. Her boots were a matching black with gold metal bits, they were knock-off horsebit Gucci shoes, the closest she could get to the real thing with her modest budget. She was having to be more frugal lately, after buying her car here in September, she had really seen how little money she truly had.

The heels of her boots clicked against the cobblestones as she stalked up to the front of the bar. There was happy chatter seeping out the open door, the warm but dimmed light also flooding out along with the sounds of people within. Taking a deep breath and fiddling with the waistband of her pants for a second, she made her way into the bar. Stepping off the deep end and making the plunge. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but after months of not going there, she felt a little sense of apprehension now.

The warmth was the most surprising bit of the bar that she felt when she stepped past the threshold. Some Italian song was buzzing below the words of the patrons and she smiled at the automatic welcome she felt upon entering.

At the tables, there was a mix of younger and older patrons. At the bar, there wasn’t much of anyone. The young bartender leans across the bar to talk to another man, who had dark brown wavy hair and a dark linen shirt on. He’s seated at the bar and his back is to her so she can’t make out anymore than that. She doesn’t notice the myriad of tattoos gracing the patron’s arm that rests casually on the bar as he laughs at something the bartender had said, just for him.

She smiles, thinking it’s a cute little flirtation between the two and hates that she has to go over to break it up. Her movement gets the bartender’s attention easily and has the patron glancing her way as well. The smile she had once had falters off of her face and her eyes go wide at the realization of who she has settled herself beside. She had left a seat open between her and the man, but now she wished she had chosen a spot across the bar and simply flagged down the bartender. Better yet, she wished she had stayed home. As her smile falls away, Harry’s only grows wider. He’s grinning down at her as he moves his whole body to face her.

“Ciao!” The bartender starters, not noticing her discomfort at seeing Harry. He begins to ask what she would like in Italian, but her eyes widen even further. He’s speaking far too fast for her and she blushed in embarrassment. In her fluster, she forgets to even try French and she just stares dumbfoundedly at the handsome man behind the bar, who’s now looking at her with great curiosity. Harry has watched the entire thing and chuckles behind his glass. She has no attention span left to allow her to even try and guess what he’s drinking.

He interjects for her, actually saving her any more embarrassment, surprisingly. “She doesn’t speak Italian. She’s from the French side and new in town, so she hasn’t been able to refine her Italian.” The bartender gives a smile and nod of understanding in her way and she wishes she knew what Harry had just said. Whatever it is makes the bartender switch to French for her and her jaw goes from being dropped back into a normal position.

“What can I get for you, mademoiselle?” He transitions smoothly and she smiles, his French accent sounding practically perfect. She’s recomposed herself, but Harry is still watching her intently, like a reality television show that he can’t wait for the trainwreck finale to occur on.

After she orders, the bartender gives her a wink and then walks off to get what he needs to begin preparing her drink. Harry slides over, eliminating the courteous one seat between them. Her eyes watch the movement and she refrains from the letting out the sigh festering in her chest. She really had hoped he would not be here tonight, at least that’s what she believed. She truly felt embarrassed that the night after Harry had accused her of never going out, he had seen her out. But it also was nice not to be sitting in the bar alone. It seemed that Harry had been sitting alone at the bar before she had come in,  but she also wasn’t Harry and didn’t know how much enjoyment she would have  gotten out of being alone.

“I see my words had some effect on you.” He says out of the corner of his mouth after running his tongue over the bottom of his lip. Her scoff once again dies in her throat because she knows he’s right and he knows it too. There is no being proud right now. He essentially caught her red handed.

“Thought I’d come out and see what all the fuss was about. I see you’re alone tonight, but I assume that’s how most nights go.”

“You should know by now that is simply not true.”

“Just because you leave with someone doesn’t mean you come with someone.”

“I guess…” He trails off.

She picks up when he doesn’t seem to have any more of a response. “How do you even meet people here? Isn’t it all locals?”

“Not always. Not all of the people here are locals tonight,” He scans the crowd. “She’s visiting...So is she...that whole group actually. Look French. So we’ve got a group from Nice tonight…” He looks a bit more. “Eh, that looks like it tonight, but still. It’s plenty.” He finishes with a smirk and she grimaces, understanding the meaning behind his words.

The bartender returns with her White Russian, which Harry had cocked his head at, but had kept his opinion to himself for once. Expecting Roman to return to their conversation, Harry turns his attention back to him, but he is only greeted with the side of his head because Roman is still staring at Y/N. He coos something to her in French, that Harry can’t pick up and his nostrils flare when she emits a giggle following their exchange. The two people he was last talking to were now ignoring him to talk to each other. How rude.

After another moment without their attention, he huffs loudly. Roman seems too entranced in Y/N to notice, but her eyes slide over to him. “Yes?” She inquires, albeit disdainfully.

Harry isn’t sure what to say to her now that he’s gained her attention. He was on his second drink and her stare has made his mind go blank. All he had wanted was for her to stop flirting with Roman so that she’d pay attention to him. But he hadn’t thought of his next step yet. He takes a sip of his beer to grant him a little more time and she rolls her eyes at his action. His mind rattles through possible things to say, but every single one is coming up as not good enough.

“I used to be in a band.”

Her head tilts and she swivels more to Harry. His comment is unexpected and rather intriguing. She had expected something annoying or rude. Truly she had just expected him to say “Nothing” once he had swallowed his drink so he could distract her from enjoying her night.

“You were in a band?” She asks incredulously, her voice pitching slightly higher than normal. While Harry was many things, including handsome, she just didn’t think he had the right persona to be in a band. He dressed like a grandfather most days and he tended to a little shoe shop, he didn’t come off as a guy who would enjoy traveling around performing. The constant praise would be on brand though, she conceded.

Harry nods and bites back his smile, knowing he had struck the perfect chord. “I was...it only took off in the UK but we were pretty popular.” He boasts.

“So what do you play?”

Harry’s eyes widen, expecting more of a question about the name of the band or something. “Well, it was, like, a boy band…” He says.

She was taking a sip of her drink and she contained her little laugh behind her glass. Another hum as she swallows the liquid that burns her throat a bit. “Oh. Interesting. So no instruments.”

“Well I can play a bit of guitar and piano!” He adds quickly, seeing her eyes shift away from him, like she thinks the conversation is over. “I was thinking of trying a solo thing, but then plans changed...”

“And now you’re here?”

He echoes her, affirming the question. “Now I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

“You don’t miss it then?”

“Didn’t say that. I miss it at times, but this is where my life took me and I’m happy to be here. Maybe happier than I ever was in the band.” His eyes stare at the liquid in his glass and he swirls it lightly, determined to study the way it moves as he ponders something quite personal to him. He never really talked about his past with anyone here. Saying he was in a band and retrospecting that time are two very different things to share with someone. She’s just watching him now, not trying to make a quip or bug him. His demeanor shows that’s not something he’s very interested in hearing right now.

She experimentally puts a finger on his knee when it seems that he’ll never raise his gaze from his glass. His eyes move down to the tiny pressure he feels and sees her painted nail poking in to him. His tongue darts across his lower lip as he raises his head to meet her eyes. He notices the sparkle in them, she finds amusement in the childish gesture and so does he.

“I do miss the stage though,” he admits, smiling more now. “Performing. It was like nothing else.” Instead of a sad state of mind, his look is far more wistful now and she actually feels the smile growing on her face.

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime, then.” She says resolutely after taking the last bit of her drink and then pushing the glass across the bar. Roman had wandered off, much to Harry’s pleasure, but now they both needed another round so she was looking for him.

Harry slides over a chair so that they’re sat side by side. He had originally done it to reach across her for a napkin, but then hadn’t retreated to his original seat after he was successful. They talk as they drink, but most of it seems to be flirtatious teasing even if neither of them recognize that fully. Harry just wanted her attention earlier and now he found that he wanted to keep talking to her all night. It was a Friday and usually he would be looking for someone to take home. The group of women at a table that he had observed were visitors would be a perfect place to start his quest, but that wasn’t on his mind. He liked watching the different shades of blush Y/N’s face kept turning as she drank more and how silly she was getting with each passing drink.

She was enjoying her time out, she had only gotten wine drunk in the confines of her little home since she’d been in the little border town. And that endeavour was all by herself. It was much more fun when you had someone to talk to, so joking around with Harry was a nice surprise. She no longer felt embarrassed about showing up after he had teased her for never going out earlier today. Now she felt empowered, like she could come to the bar whenever she pleased. He was nicer than she had realized. His hand was quick to encircle her back respectfully when she laughed a little too hard at a joke and began to tip off her stool. His smile was genuine and his eyes didn’t flit over her body more than once. His jokes were funnier than she had first thought or maybe that was just the alcohol clouding her mind, that one she wasn’t sure about. But, truthfully, Harry was exceeding expectations tonight and being a stand up human being for once, in her eyes.

A couple at the end of the bar, locals, watched on as the shoemaker and the bookkeeper threw back their heads in boisterous laughter and placed their hands on each other chastely. The older women smiled to themselves as Y/N smacked Harry’s bicep after an especially cheeky joke he told her. They were going to have a field day with this interaction once they told their friends tomorrow morning.

After drink three, she definitely felt drunk. Not completely out of it and can’t walk drunk, but I haven’t drank anything stronger than wine in months so three cocktails are kind of hitting me drunk. And because of that buzz that’s enclosed her mind and body, it makes perfect sense to her that Harry’s hand is resting casually on her knee as they talk. It also makes perfect sense to her to cross her legs, causing two things to happen. Harry’s hand shifts up further on her thigh and her boot is now dangling right next to Harry’s shin. The fabric of his cream linen trousers look especially soft and so the next logical move in her mind is to rub her foot against the fabric. She hooks around her foot easily and the patent leather of her shoe slips softly against the pant leg that flows over Harry’s calf.

He hums lowly at the feeling, but makes no other notion to acknowledge what she is doing. After the hum he gets back to the story he’s telling her about his boat. She had been extremely interested in the boat initially, but not she was transfixed on the feeling of the fabric slipping past her boot. When he shifts his leg, absentmindedly or not, she almost squeaks because this movement has Harry’s foot brushing around her ankle. The footsy was occurring without any acknowledgement of it besides small sounds the two had made in their chests. No knowing looks, just the presence of each other’s bodies against one another.

He had switched to a Manhattan after his second beer for some reason that she didn’t ask, but he was enjoying it nonetheless. When she slipped her foot against his calf, it had sent a spark of electricity from the point of contact up to his alcohol muddled head. It felt nice so he went with it.

Around midnight the two of them were practically in each other’s laps, nursing their fourth round. Brains a million miles away while their glassy eyes stared at each other. Harry’s arm nestled around her waist while hers played with the stir stick in his glass. Their heads inches away, closer than they’d ever been before.

Somehow they decided they should walk home about then. Maybe Harry had checked his phone and decided he was done. Maybe she had glanced at the clock above the bar and realized she needed to go to bed. Either way, they slammed down the last bits of their drinks and stumbled into the street. With only each other to hold them up, they had some trouble gaining their balance. They could walk just fine if they wanted to be serious, but Harry kept trying to step literally on her toes and she kept throwing all her weight into his side. Both of their actions would cause them to stumble one way or another along the empty streets. Their blurred minds thankfully didn’t get them lost, but the travel time back to their places was far greater than the travel time to the bar initially.

Finally arriving at the border of Italy and France, their shops and homes, she stared up at Harry under the glow of the streetlamp across the street. His hair looked more dark brown than his usual caramel chestnut in the light. His linen outfit billowed across his pectorals that were exposed. A tan golden color that he seemed to maintain from his frequent runs and trips on his boat. His jaw had a bit more stubble on it now, his morning shave no longer sleek on his skin. His mustache was still the most prominent bit of facial hair he had and she wondered what he might look like without it. She also thought if she’d ever kissed a man with a mustache, her mind was pretty sure she hadn’t.

As she stared, she moved from his side and took a step closer to her door. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her and bringing her attention to his eyes. He dropped her hand and stepped closer to her. They had been laughing about some weird encounter she had in Nice the other week. But now their laughter had faded out, the conversation all but forgotten.

“Hi.” She says meekly.

“Hi,” Harry laughs.

“I had fun tonight,” she muses and takes a step forward. She began swinging her arms back and forth, rocking on her feet. She felt antsy now that it was so quiet. The silence made her realize it was really just her and Harry together right now. Which wasn’t unusual, they had been alone together plenty of times. Maybe it was the time of night, but it felt far more intimate to her this time which made her squirm a little. Why was she nervous with Harry right now?

Harry nods and laughs again at her actions. “Yeah, you’re not so bad.”

Neither of them realized the proximity of their bodies until her hand swung a little higher and hit Harry’s hip bone. “Oh! Sorry!” She moves to take a step back, but Harry grabs her hand once again and tugs her even closer. Bringing them chest to chest under the lamp light. Her eyes flicker between where their bodies touch and Harry’s face. He’s looking down at her sweetly, gently. She feels safe with the way he’s looking at her. The warmth radiating from him was a nice contrast to the dark cold of night. The open expanse of skin that lived between the two sides of his mostly unbuttoned shirt seemed to have the most heat coming off of it. He had a jade cross that hung between the two muscles and she almost reached out to play with it. If it hadn’t been so dark and she hadn’t been so inebriated she would have realized the color matched his eyes almost exactly.

He’s not quite sure what he’s doing, but for some reason it feels like he might kiss her. The mood that was set by their surroundings made it sound right. Romantic even. Her lips look precious too, plump and puckered, flushed from alcohol and the brisk night air. They look a little glossy too from the last time she had wet them. He wanted to feel them for himself. His head ducks to move his lips to touch hers.

Upon registering his movement, she moves her hand from his grasp and places it on his chest, causing him to take a small step back.

“I think...I think this should be goodnight, Harry.” She breathes out. She’s trying to clear her mind enough to have conviction in her decision.

After a little intake of air, less than a gasp, Harry agrees, running a hand through his hair, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Her hand slips from his warm chest, immediately curling in on itself to maintain the warmth his body had just provided. She watches her tendons in her hand ripple before looking back at Harry with heavy eyes. He doesn’t seem to want to make eye contact with her, but she’s determined to leave on a good note.

“Thank you, Harry.” He looks up from beneath his lashes at his name, like a shy toddler. “You gave me the push to face a fear of mine.” With her final words she crosses the little distance between them once again and places a chaste kiss to his cheek. Immediately, his cheek flushes and she can feel the heat beneath her lips, as well as the light prickle of his stubble. Harry swallows, causing his Adam's apple to bob quickly, at the contact. His senses get overloaded with the sweet kiss and the smell of her perfume. It all swims through his consciousness.

She smiles as she pulls away and then turns to let herself into her place without another word. Once unlocked, she gives one last glance to Harry who’s also busying himself with opening his door. She doesn’t see that his free hand is caressing over his cheek where her lips had just been.

-

The next day, she woke up and groaned feeling the stiffness in her body. Especially her head. Oh god, her head. It was like she was back in college, but worse because she wasn’t as young. At least she didn’t have to roll out of bed for an 8 am lecture. For that, she was thankful. Still, the pounding needed to stop or subside at least. Grumbling, she threw her legs off the side of her bed, the fuzzy socks she had slipped on in her drunken stupor settled on the hardwood. She dragged her body to her window and raised the shade. Her window was fogged from the difference in temperature outside and in her room. Kneeling down, she began to pull open the window, in need of the cool fresh air on her clammy skin. Three drinks, or was it four? She couldn’t remember, either way, it was too many.

Her eyes glanced around the view of the window. It wasn’t much since it was so close to the building right next door. Peaking up, she could see the already clouded sky. To the left she could see the street and to the right was more buildings. The scene most easily accessible was the window right across from her. The shade was mostly closed, a little bit of the floor could be seen where Harry hadn’t lowered it completely. It was just the same hardwood as what she sat on staring back at her. She sat there, breathing in the crisp morning air. After a night of drinking, she usually woke up rather early, today was no different.

It dawned on her, far too slowly, that a pair of feet had entered the plain hardwood scene she had been staring at outside her window. A tiny stage now filled with two matching characters. The pair of feet were tanned and large. Little tattoos seemed to be sprinkled both on the toes and the ankles of the feet. She couldn’t read them even if she tried. But upon realizing what these feet might be doing, she had been discouraged from staring any longer. Still, her brain was foggy and her body was not nearly quick enough to hide her from view as the owner of the feet did something to open his shade as well. Then, once again, like deja vu, she was staring at her naked neighbor. Thankfully, this time, he had briefs adorning his hips to keep covering the part of him that would keep her up for weeks trying to forget again. The briefs were, just that. Brief. Low on the hips and barely touching his thighs, it seemed they really only existed to keep that one appendage covered. Still, she had to tear her eyes away from the lower half of his body and let the embarrassment wash over her when she met his eyes.

The knowing smirk of his has him nibbling at the inside of his cheek. She had been checking him out. It was a nice confidence boost after last night. The awkwardness of her stopping him from kissing her had him spiraling in his mind when he went to bed. He didn’t know why he had even tried to kiss her in the first place, probably just because he was drunk. Yeah, he was drunk and feeling needy on a friday night. That’s what it was and she had been there.

He’d have to thank her today for putting a stop to that colossal mistake. They were barely just friends, he hated to think what would happen if he’d done something so reckless as to kiss her out of the blue. Still, he couldn’t shake the thought in the back of his mind that he had gotten the vibe from somewhere. Why else would his drunken mind tell him to kiss her under the glow of the lamp light. He thought back to the bar and what they had talked about. He wouldn’t categorize it as overly flirty. He thought back to their physical interactions at the bar, okay, maybe his hand on her thigh and her playing with his drink was a little flirtatious. But that could be boiled down to him being close to hear her in the bar and her idle fingers wanting something to do while she was drunk. The footsy, though. He wasn’t sure if he could explain that one away. Instead, he would choose to ignore it. If he didn’t think about it, did it actually happen? Was it something he had to worry about? Not in his mind.

Returning his focus to the girl in the window across from him, his smirk was now fully fleshed out on his face. She was still sitting on her knees as Harry looked down at her and if they were in the same room this might have seemed like a rather compromising position. Her cheeks were still red, noticing the difference in height, she clambered to her feet.

“G’morning,” Harry’s voice is groggy and deep. Scratchy almost from the alcohol he had drank last night. It rings through her ears lowly and seems to have her blushing even more. It’s a different feeling than how his voice used to make her feel.

“Hey,” She clears her throat before responding, not wanting her morning voice to crack in front of Harry. Usually she would talk to herself a bit or sing along to her music before going downstairs, not wanting her first customers to hear her as if she just woke up. For some reason, she makes a little wave along with her greeting, feeling especially awkward at this moment. Harry chuckles and repeats her motion. His large hands mimicking the same daunting motion makes her laugh and releases some of the nervous energy she had been holding in her body.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he openly flirts, placing one hand on his naked torso and the other against the frame of the window, leaning towards her. His movement flexes just about every muscle in his body and she keeps her eyes trained on his face, determined not to be caught gawking once more.

A roll of her eyes and she’s back to staring straight into his green ones that he’s still blinking awake. “It’s almost like we’re neighbors.”

He scrunches his nose at her deadpan. “You’re no fun,” he mutters.

She sighs, “I’m fucking hungover after last night…” and runs a hand through her tousled hair.

Her foot rests itself over her other, causing her hip to just out slightly. The movement of her body that accentuated her curves and her words have Harry blushing now. The red flowers at the center of his chest and begins to spread up his neck and cheeks. He’s once again presented with the almost kiss last night.

“Big night out for you,” he laughs, “I’ll admit I don’t usually drink that much, bit of a lightweight myself.”

She only hums in response, her fingers beginning to twiddle with the hem of her t-shirt. It reminds her of what she is precisely dressed in. The big t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts that Harry can’t even see are the only things on her body besides the socks on her feet. She glances down at her legs and takes in the expanse of fleshy skin that is showing just below the shirt. Harry’s eyes follow hers and admires the skin there, wondering what it would feel like underneath his big hands.

“I should probably start getting ready for the day,” She says finally, shaking herself from the random thoughts flitting around her mind about bare thighs and the man across from her. “Are you open today?”

Harry emits a noise from the back of his throat at her question. He draws his arm back from the window and stands up straight. His head tilts as he thinks about her question, his mind still muddled this morning.

“Er..no, actually. I was planning on going out on the boat today, switching my closed day to today instead of tomorrow. Why?”

“I’m in need of shoe repair,” she smiles, her eyes catching the glimmer of the sun starting to peak out. Harry swears it’s her eyes genuinely sparkling on their own accord. “But if you’re out today, it can wait.” She begins to walk away from the window to go to another room in her apartment.

“No!” Harry steps forward, but is restricted by the screen, which keeps him from falling out of his window. She swivels around, looking at him curiously. “I can - you can just come over. I’ll fix it up for you before I head out.”

“Really?” She’s truly surprised that Harry would do such a nice thing for her. She knew they were getting along better, but for him to open shop just for her repair seemed overly nice.

“I mean,” and Harry’s once again blushing under her gaze and he’s hoping she can’t see it. “What are neighbors for?”

“I guess,” she’s still unsure. He seems like he’s nervous, his body tenses and one of his hands twisted in his curls. Harry’s so weird. “Thanks.”

-

She jogs the short distance from her front door to Harry’s once she’s ready. The pair of deep teal almost navy loafers she needed new soles in - she was pretty sure - in hand. A red pinstripe blouse half buttoned falling over her figure perfectly, hugging the right spots and flowing over the others. She’s in white jeans today that are flared slightly but also cropped. As it gets closer to Halloween she keeps having to remind herself not to dress festive and it’s a struggle everyday.

When she reaches the door, it doesn’t open. The cream door doesn’t budge as she tempts the handle with her free hand. She looks between the handle and the inside of the shop. Her eyes search for Harry’s figure. She had been inside his shop only a handful of times, never for a repair before. Maybe less than a handful, once to check it out and once again when she thought she needed a new pair of shoes and then decided against it. Oh, and that one time she went over to yell at him about something. Maybe the planters, maybe the shade, she couldn’t remember anymore.

Now that she thought about it, she had been in the bookshop once more. Two and a half years ago when she had visited the little border town for the first time. It was a little fuzzy for a memory, but she was sure she had at least peaked into the shoe shop after her lengthy visit with Marie the second day there. It looked just as it did now, maybe it used to be a little more vibrant, but she couldn’t be sure. She remembered an older man in the shop greeting her in Italian and her offering her sad ‘Ciao’. Back then she was even worse at Italian. He had looked at her with kind eyes and a sweet smile. It was a similar lopsided grin that she had now grown accustomed to on another man’s face. After beckoning her over to him the old man had turned away from her and shouted into the back of the store in quick Italian. It blew over her head completely. There must have been someone in the back of the shop who he had talked to. She was sure of it, because after she had perused the cute boots and shoes he kept, she saw a swish of hair coming around the counter. It was just as she was turning around to exit the shop, after she had bid farewell to the man she now connected as Joe. Whoever it was had long hair and was tall, slinking out into the main shop floor. The mysterious stranger was whoever Joe had shouted to in the back.

Y/N wasn’t the quickest when it came to timelines and how people could change over time. She didn’t connect the year she had visited with the year of someone else's arrival or the same chestnut waves cascading around someone’s face, just now much shorter. It made perfect sense who would be in the back of the store, but for some reason the idea of time and hair length were standing in this girl’s way. Oh well, maybe Harry would spell it out to her someday.

Harry finally rounds the counter that separated the back room to the front. The shoe shop was set up a little different from the bookstore. Her counter was right when you came in while Harry’s was about halfway through the shop. He shakes his head and laughs at her expression. The sound brings her out of her memory as well as a grimace on her face.

“Sorry, I was a million years away.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘a million miles away’, love.” Harry continues chuckling while correcting the girl in front of him.

She holds up her pair of shoes, ignoring his teasing. “Fix my shoes, shoe man.”  

His smile drops and he walks back from the door. His feet taking back steps as he beckons her into the interior of the shop. When they reach the corner, he takes the shoes from her hands and places them between their bodies. The teal loafers stare up at them. Harry inspects them, a serious expression falling over his features. His brows scrunch together slightly, the wrinkles in his forehead growing more prominent as he examines the shoes. Large hands reach out and begin to finger over the patent leather on the top and the leather soles. After a few minutes of silent deliberation, he places down one of the shoes and then holds the other up as if to showcase it.

“These,” he juts out the shoe in his hand, “need new soles. What did you do to ‘em?”

“I wear them a lot.” She insists while Harry looks on quizzically.

“I’ve never seen you wear these.”

Her brow quirks at his comment. “I wore them a lot before I got here,” she corrects. “They’ve been feeling wonky every time I try to wear them, must be because they need new soles.”

Harry nods, now satisfied with her answer. He hums, regarding the teal shoe in his hand once again. “Alright.”

She looks at him confused once again. “Alright what? Can you fix them?” What does he mean by ‘Alright’? “I’ve honestly missed wearing them these past few months.”  

Harry bites his tongue, a quip ready to be voiced. He’d gotten so used to fighting with her, he was confused how it had slipped away all so easily. His fear of them not talking if they stopped fighting didn’t seem to come to fruition so he could rest easy on that front. But now he was going to have to retrain his brain not to be rude after every comment Y/N made.

“Yeah, of course.” He sighs, placing the shoe next to its mate and then turning his face to her. She had been chewing on her bottom lip, actually worried for her shoes. They really were her favorites. She’d had them forever and it would be heartbreaking if they had to be thrown out. If she couldn’t wear them though she was almost sure she’d just let them collect dust in her closet rather than dispose of them if it really came down to it.

“But it’s like a good amount of my day to replace soles…”

Her face falls, but she tries to hide it. She knew Harry was doing a favor by taking a look right now. If he could fix them it didn’t matter when he did it. What he says next though truly throws her off. No normal enemy-ship turned somewhat friendship overnight would engage in what Harry was about to propose. If any such relationship other than her and Harry actually existed.

“Do you want to come out on my boat today?” His brow arches, his lips in a soft smile, he’s being genuine.

“Why would I do that?” Her brows raise along with her voice, taken off guard by his suggestion.

“More fun waiting for me to fix your shoes on a boat than in your shop.” He says simply before taking the shoes and placing them in a little cubby hole behind the counter for safe keeping. “Trust me, you’ll love it.” Her expression doesn’t change. “Just say yes,” He pleads now.

She sighs, “Fine.” All of the reasons not to go out on Harry’s boat are at the forefront of her mind, but she still finds herself saying yes easily. His pleading really wasn’t necessary to get her to agree. The bookstore could live with being closed today, it wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

[ppersonna]

iced americano, to-go - myg | m

one more cup of coffee for the road. one more cup of coffee before i go to the valley below - one more cup of coffee, bob dylan

↳ summary- yoongi really REALLY loves iced coffee...

↳ rating- explicit / 18+ / nc17

↳ word count- 2.3k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre-  pwp lol, smut, fluff, crack? man this is just smut about coffee

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (dont…pls), light dirty talk, face sitting, cream pie, uhhhh i think thats it

↳ a/n- i had an iced americano this morning that made me feel things and i imagine yoongi would feel the same way.... pls forgive me.  ily❤

The sunlight that pounds into Yoongi’s head feels like a punishment for staying up so late drinking the night before.

He rolls over in an attempt to pull you closer, wanting to breathe in the scent of your shampoo but finds himself coming up short and snuggling your pillow instead.

He groans and cracks an eye open and finds the bed empty.  It’s still warm—you must not have gone long, but Yoongi frowns regardless. He’s fighting a hangover headache and wants nothing more than the feel of your soft skin.

He flops onto his back dramatically and lays an arm over his eyes to block out the blinding light. A sigh escapes him and he finds himself slipping back into a light doze when he hears the familiar beeping of the keypad of the front door to your shared apartment.

Yoongi props himself up slightly as you finally enter the bedroom. A long T-shirt hangs off your body, and you’re clearly not wearing a bra underneath—apparent from the way your nipples poke through the fabric.  The striped shorts on your legs barely cover your modesty and your hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in a year.

But best of all, you’re clutching two iced drinks in your hand. Yoongi thinks you’ve never looked so perfect.

“I brought you an iced americano,” you yawn as you toe the slippers off your feet.

“You went to Starbucks like that?” He asks as he lifts an eyebrow in surprise.

“And what about it?” You retort as you place the cold drink in his hand.

“God, I fucking love you, you know that?” He questions, setting the drink on the nightstand before he pulls you into his arms. “My fucking soul mate.”

You squeak at the surprise hug and muffle a response into his bare chest that he can’t hear but he doesn’t care.

All he cares about is you, the fact that you feel just as shitty as him and still went out of your way to get him the one drink that he can’t live without.

“Sit on my face,” he demands.

The look in your eyes tells him you’re caught off guard but you nod in agreement anyways.

“Because I...got you coffee?” You ask dumbly as you shimmy the shorts down your legs.

“Yeah, you got me fucking coffee. Let me eat you out.”

“Okay…”

He can tell by your unsure tone that you still don’t get it, but who are you to deny the rapper’s tongue technology.

The shorts come off quickly and he shivers at the sight of you without panties. Knowing you went to a coffee shop barely clothed in order to get him a drink makes his cock harden like stone.

You’re still clutching your own drink as you straddle your boyfriend’s face and hover over him—you’re so dazed and confused by the sudden request that you forget it’s there.  

Yoongi grins and wraps his arms around your legs securely and beckons you closer.

“My good little girlfriend being so sweet and getting me a coffee for my hangover, fuck,” he groans as he can see you’re already slick. It doesn’t take you long to get excited when it involves the man below you.

Yoongi pulls you down further until his nose is buried in your cunt. It makes you whine as you feel his hot breath.

Yoongi chuckles, then pulls you in even closer and begins his onslaught with his tongue.

It dances over your clit and swirls it around, making you gasp and squeal and grip the drink in your hands tighter.

As yoongi gets to work, he sighs into you at the feel of your legs trembling and core shaking. He drags the flat of his tongue around your clit and down to spear into your dripping cunt.  He laps at the juices that seep out now, and he’s sure his face will be covered in your essence by the time he’s done.

He hums his approval at the sweet taste of you and smirks as you gasp at the vibration. You’re easy to get off like this. The surprise coupled with the position has you near the edge already.

“Y-yoongi,” you mewl as you begin to pant heavily.

It thrills him to feel your wetness begin to paint his face. His grip tightens on your soft thighs as he increases his fervor. He can’t get enough of the wet heat of you, his tongue diving inside you as deep as he can get it.

Your taste is one he doesn’t think he can live without. He’s not sure how he did live without it for so long before he actually got to have you.

It’s hard to breathe with his face pressed into your cunt but the thought of breathing is so far out of Yoongi’s mind it barely registers. He’d gladly suffocate between the thickness of your thighs, face pressed against you and tongue buried inside you forever. There’s no way he’d rather go.

You’re crying out, free hand dragging through his hair and gripping the freshly dyed black locks. You’re unable to hold back the loud moans of pleasure that rack through you now.  Yoongi feels jubilant.

“Sh-shit! Yoongi! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” You’re wailing as loud as you can. Yoongi’s headache doesn’t even mind the loud echo of your voice. It seems your pussy is more potent than any painkiller he could take.

He coaxes you, pressures you to cum as hard as you can as he flicks your clit with dangerous speed. His tongue is flickering back and forth across the nub with increasing pressure and speed.  Your wails match in time to the beat he sets in your cunt.  

It doesn’t take long until you’re screaming his name and throwing your head back shamelessly as your orgasm washes over you. He feels the slick burst and slide down his mouth, pooling at the crevices of his neck. He slurps as much as he can, not wanting to miss a single drop if he can help it.

You whine in over sensitivity and your hips shudder as he continues and you’re giggling to beg him to stop.  He releases your thighs and allows you to move off his face.

The sight of Yoongi covered in your own cum makes you suddenly desperate for more of him.  You’re greedy and Yoongi’s cock tightens in his boxers—it wants all the attention you can give it.

“Fuck, that was hot, babe,” he murmurs as he wipes your slick off with a hand.

Your cheeks are tickled pink like you’re embarrassed, but you both know you’re anything but.

“Fuck me.”

Yoongi grins at your demand and winks.

“Let’s put that coffee down first, yeah?” He says as he reaches for your own iced drink still clutched in your hand. He sets it next to his and chuckles. “I’m proud of you. Not a single spill.”

You’re pulling his boxers down and pressing kisses to his hard length.

“I’d rather die than spill my coffee,” you sigh as your lips wrap around the head of his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans as he watches you envelop him. “That’s my fucking girl.”

He’s not sure if he’s praising you for the fantastic cock sucking or the fact you’re just as coffee obsessed as he is—neither of you care. The praise alone is enough.

Your head bobs and Yoongi moves hair out of your face.  He wants to see your pretty eyes as you pleasure him. It’s one of the best parts of the act. He wishes he could frame a photo of your face with your mouth shoved full of his cock—it’s his favorite scene.

He feels his body shudder and balls tighten and he’s afraid he’s already so close and wants to cum inside your sweet cunt rather than down your throat tonight.  He nudges your face and pulls you up with a gentle ‘ah, ah’.

You lift, eyebrow raised in confusion and he pulls you close to straddle his hips.

“Wanna fill you up.”  

You need no other reason.  Your fingers lift and tug your baggy sleep shirt off completely and you’re preening at how on display you are for the rapper.  He drinks the sight of your full breasts, thick thighs, dripping cunt. It’s his favorite gift, one he gets to open every single day and night.

“Gonna ride your cock, babe,” you promise as you line yourself up.  

Yoongi smirks and settles his hands in the curve of your waist, smoothing them down until he reaches the crest of your hips.  

A hiss leaves him as you slowly take him in, inch by inch. The heat of your drenched core has him nearly cumming right there, but he grits his teeth and holds it in.  He’s so turned on from everything about you this morning that he feels his orgasm is hanging on by a single tripwire.

“Oh, my god,” you gasp as you finally settle and sit with him fully encased in you. “So fucking big.”

The compliment goes directly to Yoongi’s ego and he winks at you as you open your eyes to stare down at him.  Your hands move to rest on his bare chest and you move your hips to start a rising motion.

Yoongi’s eyes roll back in his head at the feeling. He loves the way you take initiative. He loves laying back and letting you do the hard work.  The way your pussy grips his cock has him pressing his lips against yours and moaning his approval into your mouth.  

Your tongues swirl around each other as your ass bounces on his thighs and you gasp against his lips every time the bulbous head of his dick rubs at the spot inside you that makes your vision white out for just a few seconds.   You’re already high from your first orgasm, and your second is quickly approaching.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” Yoongi groans, pulling his mouth away from yours as he assists your hips in bouncing on his cock. “Got me my own fucking coffee.”

You babble in reply, something that doesn’t make sense but you both understand it. It means ‘of course I did. I fucking love you.’

You both quicken your pace.  He can tell your thighs are burning from the exertion but the bliss written on your face tells him you don’t care. Your hand drops to rub at your clit and Yoongi’s mesmerized by the movements. He can’t wait to feel you reach your second high with him buried so deep inside you.

“I love you,” he grunts. His voice is becoming raw, feral.  He’s moving you up and down his cock so fast, aided by the slickness pouring out of you. “My fucking hot little girlfriend buying me fucking coffee.”

He’s stuck on that notion, captivated that you went out of your way to make his morning better.

“Mmmmf, gonna fucking stuff you full of my cum, babe,” he warns. He can feel his abdomen clench with incoming pressure. “You want that, baby? You want this little pussy dripping with my cum all day?”

Your bottom lip trembles, and he can tell by the fluttering of your walls that you’re close.

“Say it, baby girl. Say you want my cum.  I’ll give it to you, just say the word.”

“Yoongi! Fuck!” Your finger speeds up, circling lasciviously at the bundle of nerves he thoroughly tongue abused earlier. “Fucking cum inside me!”

Yoongi is incapable of holding back after your needy demand and he throws his head back against the pillow and ruts up into you once, twice, three times until he feels all of It snap inside him.  His cock pulses hot white stripes in your core.

The feeling of his twitching dick inside you sends you feeling and you steel yourself with a hand on his chest to keep from collapsing as you ride him through the top crest of your orgasm.

“Ohhhh! Fuck!” You scream as your channel pulses tightly around him, sucks his seed in deep and molds itself around his cock. It grips him tight and Yoongi whimpers at the feeling.

There’s nothing he can compare it to. No other feeling in the world compares to the way each ridge of his cock feels when you’re cumming around him. He feels like it’s the definition of nirvana.

Both bodies are slicked with sweat and you let your body fall to rest your cheek on Yoongi’s shoulder.  His arms wrap around your body as he nuzzles into you. His cock remains deep inside you, and he can feel his own hot cum start to slide around his cock, mixing with your own release.

He pushes you up for a moment, wants to see the way your pussy drips his seed.  You understand his need and sit up, lifting your pelvis to allow his cock to slide out of you.

A hot white trail of cum follows and lands on his lower abdomen, and Yoongi whines at the sight of his cum slicking up your channel, filling you to the brim.  It sets a flame to the possessive part of him he can’t control.  You’re his. Fully.

After a moment of silence, you lower back down to rest on his thighs and reach for the two drinks on the nightstand.

Yoongi chuckles as you press his dark drink into his hands and you greedily suck up the caffeinated beverage in your own.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he jokes as he sips at it through the straw and savors the taste of it, mixing with the taste of you still on his lips.

You smile at him as you rub your slick core up and down his bare thigh.

“Shit, I’m about to buy you coffee every fucking day if that’s how you’re gonna treat me.”

Yoongi winks and pokes at your side teasingly.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[annqbthchse]

Agathas casting + Sofia Wylie

hi I just chugged 2 redbulls, ranted to my friend for like an hour about this because the amount of absolute disrespect and just plain racism i've seen about the casting infuriates me. so here are some of the comments i've seen and my opinion/reaction to them (this is literally just a passionate brain explosion done quite late at night -10pm-  and vv quickly so I apologise if some points are missing/worded weirdly!!)

“she isn’t how she looks in the books” || “i’m all for diversity but [🙄] why did they make the pale one a POC” || “it doesn’t make sense for agatha to be played by a black actress”

for those saying it doesn't make sense for agatha to be plated by a black women,,,  what are you talking about!!! IT ACTUALLY DOES THO???? if anything it makes more sense and adds more weight to her storyline and character arc! her entire arc is realising she has been beautiful ALL ALONG. its just her low self esteem and the impossibly and very eurocentric high beauty standards that's she's up against at the school for good & in Gavaldon keeping her down. having agatha being played by a WOC is perfect because that is something we unfortunatly have to face on a daily basis. it makes for a wider range of people to see agatha and her experiences and be able to relate to someone whose place in society mirrors their own. and isn’t that great??? SHOULDN’T WE WANT THAT????yes. we should.

as a WOC myself, when i found out the news I literally called my friend at like 8am to be like “HOLY SHIT :DDDD” its exciting!! i know that a lot of people loved agatha because they could relate to her and that's great! but you still have that!! book agatha isn’t going anywhere. she's still there! like i've said before, Sofia as agatha allows MORE people to be able to relate to her character. This is an amazing decision and these kind of changes in the adaptation should be welcomed and encouraged. i

and also you can’t just pick and choose what characters can/cannot be black. that literally makes 0 sense and isn’t how it works. having agatha - one of the films lead-  as a WOC is a big deal and suggesting that instead have the side characters have diverse actors infuriates me. why does it have to be a side character??? it makes as much sense for agatha to be black as it does any other side character and sofia is perfect!

ALso Soman (who first published SGE in 2013) probably just used whatever beauty standards at the time and ran with it. but hey, it's literally 2020 and if this year has taught us anything it's that times are changing! casting a diverse lead for a book that has a predominantly white cast reflects that change! its great! tbh before the casting news, i was very apprehensive about the movie because of some of the problematic themes and events that occur but this casting is the step in the right direction! it shows that at least on some level the people making the movie are all aware of its wrongdoings and adapting the movie to better fit and reflect a wider audience in 2020.which is what we all (or at least should) want!!

“She doesnt have straight black hair so she can’t possibly play agatha”

first of all her hair is gorgeous!!! and does it really matter that she wont have straight hair??? will you die if one fictional character doesn't have straight hair?? no. you won't. and she shouldn’t have to straighten, use relaxers or wear a wig to play the role. hollywood has a long standing history of making diverse (predominantly Black!!) actresses having to fit Eurocentric beauty standards LIKE having straight hair. and using relaxes can also be a really traumatising and degrading experience for black women and its unfair for people demand that she can only play agatha if she “fixes” her hair. and yea again it has some very racist undertones. but dudes this is HAIR we’re talking about people. it's such a stupid finicky detail to hyperfocus on that won’t even affect the plot or the movie in any big way. I for one would love to see Sofia play Agatha with her beautiful, gorgeous, natural hair!

we all have our different interpretations and visions of agatha and that's ok! but with that and the movie you have to be realistic. there is no way they could’ve casted the ‘perfect’ agatha. even if they did stick to her book descriptions. you can't please everyone and people will always have opinions and something to say about it

“I can’t see her as agatha because of her previous disney roles”

bruh it's called acting. and you know another famous actress known for the classic disney roles and is now an emmy award winning actress?? ZenDAYA. yea. stfu. we haven’t even seen them in their full costumes or anything, hell this is really the first big information that we’ve had! give it some time,,, lets see the rest of the cast, the costumes, the sets and THEN decide if “she's not my agatha” c’mon guys!! she's insanely talented (a triple threat at 16!!!) and criticising her casting of agatha based on one photo - which literally says nothing about her performance- does have some severe racist undertones no matter how many times you try to defend yourself using the classic “i’m not racist but-” excuse.  

The people who casted her are literal professionals. they do this for a LIVING and have been for ages. SO ofc they would’ve casted the perfect person for the role. these are the same people who casted Harry Potter. pls just have faith in the process. they don’t want the movie to be a flop any more than we do. they picked her for a reason and i'm sure that in time we will see the exact same reasons they do

“I wanted asian agatha so i’m very disappointed in this casting”

I get it, I do but honestly,, c’mon dude A WIN FOR ONE OF US IS A WIN FOR ALL!! all minorities are all severely underrepresented in hollywood rn and idk about y’all but i’m taking this as a massive win for all us POC regardless of whether she's black, brown or asian.

“Sofias too beautiful” || “Agatha's supposed to be ugly >:(”

Agatha has literally been “beautiful all along”. the problem isn’t that she's ugly, its just that she's had impossibly low self esteem and doesn't see herself that way because of the impossibly high (mostly eurocentric) beauty standards she's held against. and with the ugly casting??? you really want them to put out a casting call specifically calling for someone ugly?? what would that even entail?? dudes The Lord of the Rings TV show tried that shit here in NZ a lil bit ago and it did NOT go down well lmao. you can’t just cast an ‘ugly’ person. also ‘hollywood’ ugly is still hot (e.g She's all That ) so idk what you guys were expecting????

pls remember Sofia is literally 16 (!!!!), she's so young and must’ve been SO excited to have gotten this role!! and if we can see all these comments, she definitely can so just be kind. ok

anyways,,,

Sofia is absolutely gorgeous and the perfect agatha and i’m very excited to see more of her ❤️

[jippy-kandi]

Digimon Adventure: 2020 – Episode 29: Escape The Burning Jungle (Review)

Thoughts on the twenty-ninth episode of the Digimon Adventure reboot series.

So, this was actually a pretty great episode (with a few hiccups). I was pleasantly surprised. But I would’ve loved this episode just that little bit more had all the kids actually been together. :P

Taichi screaming Hikari’s name really sounded like a girl’s voice, lol. Yes, I know Taichi’s voice actor is female - but it was super feminine and I don’t think it should’ve been. :P

Agumon to Taichi: “Stand up, Taichi! Taichi, if you give up, who’s going to save Hikari?!” Like . . . was Taichi really just going to flop on the dirt and do nothing? I guess it was a nice moment for Agumon to have, but I don’t think Taichi would ever have been in that situation in the first place. At least, OG Taichi would never.

OMG Patamon literally looks dead - and instead of being concerned, I am laughing??? XD; Oh, Takeru, stop giving your digimon alcohol please. Your pig is hungover.

Taichi tells the others that Hikari was kidnapped - and Jou is still just chillin’ in the hot springs with a harem of Nanimon. Like??? It’s ridiculous when the stakes are so high and Toei just uses a character as comic relief - you’re literally telling your audience your work is a joke.

Takeru to Taichi: “I’m going to fight, too. So Taichi-san, please fight for Hikari-chan.” Did you hear that? Listen. That’s the sound of a thousand Takari fans getting erect. :P

I actually liked how the Woodmon appeared and scared Agumon, lol.

OMG the Budmon are SO CUTE! New favourite Digimon alert. *SQUISH*

Oh, and there’s a random Lopmon. It’s cute, too, I guess. :P (ESPECIALLY ITS FOOTSTEPS! <3)

I do really wish that the 2020 writers would focus less on action, and more on characterisation - but, credit where it’s due, they do a really good job at making the Digital World feel alive with digimon. I want more of this.

Taichi holding Lopmon is the most precious thing ever. Frame this for me, please. <3

Koushirou continues to be an info dump - but at least Yamato appreciates it! Yamato: “Continue to investigate, Koushirou.” Koushirou: “*Gasp.* Yes, Yamato-san!” Did you hear that intake of breath by Koushirou? The boy almost climaxed at Yamato finally calling him by his first name, lmao. XD; It’s cute, though. <3

I hope the gemstones Mimi and Palmon found will be important to the plot later on . . . otherwise, while it’s cute for Mimi’s character, I am really judging her sunny disposition while a friend’s little sister is kidnapped. :P

Jou is just a joke. I’m very close to being done with him. Sora is listening in and she’s like, “These fools aren’t going to do anything. LET’S GO!!!” :P

BUDMON, NOOO! YOU WERE TOO CUTE TO DIE. Even angry Budmon is cute AF. D:

A tiny-in-comparison Allomon bites MetalGreymon’s metal arm and makes him scream . . . bish, please. That Allomon’s jaw should be broken!

Taichi finally falls off of MetalGreymon, hits the ground multiple times, and . . . survives. Well, of course! He’s Superman! I SAW HIM FLY ONCE. :P

Taichi: “I have to save Hikari . . .” Did you forget that your little sister turned her nose up at you as she willingly left you? No? OK. (I’m trollin’. That Hikari scene still makes me laugh.)

IT’S MOTHERFUCKING SORA TAKENOUCHI! That was seriously epic. I loved everything about it. Thank you, Toei, for finally giving Sora a moment that she has long since deserved. She was amazing. A true hero. HAVE MY BABIES, SORA. No, have Yamato’s pls, thx.

Bless the little Budmon and their tiny ineffectual horns, lmao. It’s the thought that counts. XD;

Ooh, Parrotmon. Let’s go, nostalgia!

I loved this episode - with a few minor annoyances (see above). I just needed all the kids to be together and this would’ve been pretty close to perfect. Please, Toei, keep the quality up! Hopefully it’ll only be a few more episodes until the team is completely reunited. I still have hope for this series! :D

[scatterpatter]

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

:)

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

:)

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

:)

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

[dekuscrybaby]

starry nights

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

request: no, just felt soft for tsukki

word count: 2.5k+ words

warnings: fluff with barely any plot, a few curse words (?), unedited, maybe ooc tsukki, CHEESY AS HELL, the ending is booty bc i couldn’t find a way to end it

a/n: i wrote this as gender neutral as i could bc i’m a useless hetero so if something is not gn friendly pls let me know!

summary: who knew a stressful night could turn so soft with the help of a certain blonde?

after such a long day, there was nothing more you wanted than a nice relaxing evening before falling into a deep sleep.

the idea of finally getting home and showering after sweating at the boy’s volleyball practice, seeing as you were a manager, sounded amazing. what sounded even better was eating dinner and retiring to your room where you could listen to music in bed as you slowly feel yourself drift off into your dreams.

unfortunately, the only thing you received once you got home was a hard chair pressing uncomfortably into your bottom as you scribbled various formulas onto your notebook.

you were attempting to solve yet another dumb math problem that was assigned to you earlier that day, but you were finding that the results weren’t making any sense. they were far too large to be the correct answer. or were they too small?

you sighed frustratedly as your head began to pound and your butt was beginning to numb. you mentally reminded yourself to ask your parents for a comfier desk chair as soon as possible.

after another failed attempt at the stupid trigonometry problem in your textbook, you felt yourself begin to spiral. your muscles began to tense up and for some reason, your head felt like it was spinning, the pounding only getting stronger. the moment you found yourself struggling to breathe, you decided that it was time to take a break before things escalated any further.

you pushed yourself away from your desk to stretch for a little and to clear your head, hoping it’d be enough to finally let you solve the problem afterward. you might have also done it to get some blood flowing back in your ass, but that’s not the focus of this.

you paced around your room for a couple of minutes before you heard a slight buzzing sound in the room. halting your movement, you turned your head towards the sound and realized it was coming from your phone, which was lying in the middle of your bed.

walking over to your bed, you flopped yourself onto the soft mattress after taking your phone into your hands. upon realizing that your boyfriend was calling you, you clicked on the green accept call button and pressed the device to your ear.

“hey, what’s up?” you spoke as you made yourself comfortable on your bed, grabbing one of your stuffed animals and holding it close to your chest.

“why haven’t you replied to me?” tsukishima grumbles quietly.

“uhh, i did? i’m literally speaking with you, aren’t i?” you raised an eyebrow even if he couldn’t see it.

“i’m talking about my texts, dumbass. i sent you like ten in the last fifteen minutes,” he sighed.

you pulled your phone away and glanced at your notifications, which only proved your boyfriend’s statement to be true. 

frowning slightly you turned your attention back to the call, “sorry, tsukki. i didn’t see your messages until right now.”

back in his own room, tsukishima could be found rolling his eyes at your lack of attention towards him. a quick glance at his alarm clock at his bedside had other worries streaming into his head.

“what are you doing that’s so important at this hour anyway?” the blonde questioned as he sat up on his own bed.

“homework, what else would i be doing?” you replied.

“i don’t know, maybe getting ready for bed? it’s almost ten pm, y/n. you need eight hours of sleep,” he scolded you.

“i know, i know. you remind me of that at least twice a week,” you grumbled halfheartedly.

tsukishima chuckled softly, knowing you were probably pouting at this point, “clearly i need to remind you more often since it’s not getting through your puny brain.”

the pout you wore grew even wider, just as tsukishima imagined it to, “hey, it’s not that puny!”

you could hear your boyfriend laugh a bit louder as you also say up on your bed, cradling the plush closer to your chest, “i don’t know, you come in pretty close to hinata and kageyama.”

“that’s far from the truth and you know it! we’re literally in the same class,” you huffed.

“that doesn’t mean much, sweetheart,” he teased you.

“fuck you,” you laughed softly.

“you wish,” he retorted playfully. “anyway, meet me at the park we pass by when i walk you home as soon as we get off the phone.”

“come again?” you questioned. not really believing what you were hearing, you got out of bed for some reason believing that being up would tell you your hearing was off.

“meet me at the park by your house,” he repeated. 

“you want me to do what?” you asked once again, your mind not wrapping around the command just yet.

“last time i checked, you weren’t deaf. just trust me and meet me there.”

“tsukki, like you said earlier, it’s almost ten at night.” where was your boyfriend heading with this? he isn’t even the spontaneous type! so where was this going?

well, obviously the park but why?

“i’m aware, i can tell time, y/n.” tsukki rolled his eyes slightly.

“it’s also wednesday night, a weeknight,” you continued as you began to walk to your closet.

“i’m also cognizant of that as well. i own a calendar,” he replied.

“we have school tomorrow, kei. you remember that? school? the building we go to and learn in?” you mumbled, still not believing that your boyfriend wanted to meet up at such a late hour.

think about it, tsukishima is an incredibly intelligent boy. he’s probably one of the smartest kids you know. probably even one of the best students in general and he’s asking you to hang out on a school night? after he nags at you about studying for your classes and sleeping at reasonable hours? 

even if he, himself, doesn’t sleep at reasonable hours, but he insists you do it at least.

something’s up.

“how many times do i have to tell you that i know what these things are?” he scoffed quietly.

“as many times as it takes for you to come to your senses,” you retaliated as you quickly grabbed one of the hoodies in your wardrobe, coincidentally it was one you stole from the blonde.

“you say that as if you’re not already getting ready to meet me there,” he teased you as he began to laugh quietly at how predictable you were to him.

“how are you so sure about that, four-eyes?” you replied as you slipped your head into the hoodie that was a few sizes too big.

“i’m sure for two reasons actually,” he began, the tone in his voice sounding extremely confident as he seemed to know you inside and out. 

“one, i know that regardless of what situation you’re in, you don’t pass up on an opportunity to see me because you’re literally a lovesick puppy. two, i can hear rustling through the phone, and taking that first reason in mind, i’m going to safely assume that you’re grabbing a hoodie and some shoes so you can come out and meet me.”

“you know, i really do hate you sometimes. you’re a pain in the ass,” you spoke, voice slightly muffled by the hoodie covering your mouth slightly.

“yeah, yeah, but you know you love it. i’ll see you there,” he chuckled before hanging up on you, leaving you alone in your quiet bedroom, the scent of his cologne still lingering on the fabric that wrapped your body in a warm embrace.

once you broke out of your haze, you quietly maneuvered out of your bedroom, making way towards the front door. you slipped on your shoes once you got to the doorway and pulled the door open as quietly as possible, to avoid any unwanted confrontation with your parents, before slipping into the cool and quiet night. 

hands intertwined in the hoodie’s pocket, you briskly walked towards the small park a few blocks away from your own house, impatient to see your boyfriend.

sure, you had seen him a few hours prior to this but you could never get enough time with the blonde. time spent with him always flew by and you found yourself craving his attention more and more as your time with him increased as well.

you knew the feeling was mutual, hence why you two were sneaking out to see each other. but still, seeing such a stoic, and a rather asshole-ish, person like tsukishima act so soft and vulnerable in your presence made you want to risk it all for him. a little scolding or tighter limitations on your freedoms for a few days were worth the time you’d spend with your lover.

glancing up at the sky as the park’s playground began approaching your field of vision, you noticed how clear tonight’s sky appeared to be. no cloud in sight, just miles, and miles of countless stars littering the dark night sky. 

the perfect conditions from some stargazing, you smiled softly at the realization.

refocusing your eyes in front of you, you noticed a rather lanky figure sit on one of the swings, awkwardly shifting himself forward and backward. 

“hey, stranger,” you piped up as you took a seat beside his own swing.

“funny seeing you here, hmm?” he turned to look at you, a teasing expression lying lazily upon his face as he briefly eyed your appearance. more than likely, noticing his hoodie engulfing your figure. 

“yeah, extremely funny. so funny that you had to beg me to come out here.”

“yeah, i really begged for it. i felt as if i would die if i didn’t see you, almost got down on my knees.” he rolled his eyes playfully.

“well, you did have to ask me a handful of times before i agreed to come down. so, yeah, i’d like to think you begged for it,” you mimicked his actions. “just admit that you missed me, to make up for the fact that i snuck out of my house for you. after curfew, may i add on.”

“you act as if i didn’t sneak out of my own house, after curfew as well,” he retorted.

“would admitting that you missed me kill you?” you pouted, crossing your arms together.

“fine, fine. i missed you, okay? happy?” he said as he leaned towards your side, long fingers caressing your side which only made you squirm as it tickled.

you laughed softly before nodding and stretching an arm out in his direction, allowing him to link your pinkies together, a form of affection worth more than a kiss in your relationship. 

“so what made you bring me out on a night like this? i was working on some real important trigonometry homework when you interrupted me, and let me mention once again that it’s a school night.”

tsukishima went back to swinging himself on the swing, his pinky being interlaced with yours caused you to begin to sway yourself on the swing as well.

“after i noticed that you didn’t reply to my messages, i figured that you’d gotten too wound up in your homework. i knew you could need a small break from it all and hearing how tense you sounded over the call, only confirmed it for me,” a small blush rose into his pale cheeks.

“you knew that i was starting to get stressed? tsukki,” your voice began to soften more. “you seriously knew that just by one phone call and a lack of replies?”

he scoffed quietly, attempting to look like he didn’t care but the rising heat appearing on his cheeks and ears told you otherwise, “don’t go making it sound like that, it was just obvious.”

you began to grin at the obvious timidness your boy was exuding, “so let me guess, you noticed i was feeling upset so you decided to help me clear my mind by spending some time with me.” 

“tch, you wish.”

you moved your hand to properly interlace your entire hand with his own, squeezing it gently.

“that’s really sweet of you, kei. i appreciate it so much, it’s exactly what i needed,” you beamed under the moonlight, something tsukishima couldn’t help but find beautiful, his expression softening once again.

“this one trig problem was really getting to me. i was so relieved to hear my phone ring as it gave me an excuse to take a longer break, and it was an even greater relief when it was you who was calling.” as you were speaking, a slight breeze swept up and began to lightly run through your locks, which only caused tsukishima to continue admiring you.

“you know, you’re actually really cute, especially under this moonlight,” he said as he pulled your intertwined hands up to his lips, gently brushing his lips against your knuckles before pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“are you insinuating that you used to think i wasn’t cute?” you rose one of your eyebrows mischievously, wanting to fluster the unusually soft boy.

he sighed dramatically, letting go of your hand, “and you ruined it. i was trying to express my undying love for you and you just had to ruin the mood.”

“well don’t let that stop you, i’m still listening!” you attempted to salvage the soft moment as kei began to laugh before he rose from his swing, extending a hand to you.

“maybe i’ll give it another shot after we get a nicer view of the stars.” you could have sworn you saw a twinkle in his eyes when he said this, but nonetheless you stood up to take his hand.

hand-in-hand you both walked to the playground, getting on it and finding yourselves seated at the very top, the starry much clearer at the slightly elevated altitude.

not wanting to ruin the quiet atmosphere, you turned your head upwards, a small smile on your face as you raked your eyes through the endless clusters of stars.

as you continued to observe the space above you, tsukki turned his attention to focus on your delicate features making his smile reappear. there was just something about tonight that made you look so ethereal, he just couldn’t help but fall for you even harder.

“you okay?” you asked when you finally felt his stare on you.

“yeah, i just can’t take my eyes off you,” he breathed out, which led you to smile at him, your heartwarming at the sight of how in love he looked.

“you’re so cute, kei.” you leaned your body on his, your head finding a home on the space between his shoulder and neck.

tsukishima didn’t waste any time wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. in return you pressed a kiss to his lower jaw, your smile pressing against his skin.

with that, no more words were expressed. everything that needed to be said was done in your respective kisses but also the lovesick grins that you both wore for the remainder of that night.

your starry night with your own little moon pressed right against your body.

[dayzone]

hello tumblr user andrewsrabies i've been having some jeaneil thoughts lately 😭 anything to share w the class 🙏

hi tumblr user daystens let’s talk about my random jeaneil hcs

neil gifts jean a pair of bright socks with cutesy cartoons on them as a joke but jean unironically loves them so neil buys him a shitload but just stuffs them in jeans drawer and never admits to buying them. they don’t talk abt it.

they actually do this a lot.. like. they will never admit it but taking care of each other quietly and without wanting for thanks is their love language. neil likes to cook for jean, he mealplans for them, leaves him baked gifts on the counter for jean to wake up to when neil has already left for class/work. jean likes to buy little trinkets and knick knacks for neil bc neil is at a place where having more things is grounding more so than anxiety inducing. it helps remind him that he takes up space in the world and that it’s okay. neil is particularly fond of 3D puzzles

i wanna think that in a world where they weren’t hurt quite as much and where touch doesn’t almost always hurt they like to wrestle. they are just dumb boys with stupid jock disease. it always starts out as like,, footsie or even just little shoulder nudges but neil can and WILL climb jean like a tree or attempt to suplex him. jean is too competitive for his own good, ESPECIALLY when neil is involved. it does not matter when or where. in jeans dorm? jeremy is terrified. in a restaurant? just another one they’re banned from. on the sidewalk? campus security knows them by name.

neil likes it when jean lays on top of him. the weight is just... nice and grounding. it works for jean too because after a long day he can always look forward to coming home and immediately flopping on top of neil, letting his muscles unclench one by one as neil strokes down his neck and back, carding fingers through his hair and tracing along his ears. jean likes the quiet rumble of neil’s chest as he hmms along to jeans rant about why his day was specifically terrible (in a post canon setting, jean relishes in being able to consider getting drenched from the rain, getting a B on a test he studied hard for, and rude, snappish people as a reason for his day to be terrible. it takes a while, and there’s days that even the thought of doing such makes him hate himself, but usually it’s just proof of freedom)

they are terrible at singing. TERRIBLE. THE BOTH OF THEM. but that doesn’t stop them from serenading each other in french, giggling all the while and holding each other close to sway to the song that they’re making up as they go

they have too many inside jokes. their texts are indecipherable.

chaotic. sometimes just the sight of them standing together gives kevin a headache.

they tune everyone’s opinion of them out. a common opinion is that neil is too mean, too blunt to jean, that jean lets neil get away with too much and is too flippant about everything in life. neil’s lack of sugar coating helps jean the most though, helps him see straight and come to the present when things get overwhelming. jean is organized but has recently started carrying a more casual air around him that reminds neil that if he takes a breath, if he takes a break, he isn’t going to die

jean has all of his keys painted. his closet is filled with bright clothes. his phonecase is layered in stickers. he likes color. neil is impartial to style but loves to steal jeans clothing, so they’re kind of walking disasters. jean is can kind of pull it off and knows a little about matching clothes together but neil just cannot be bothered. jean likes to dress him up whenever neil lets him, though.

they do a lot of crafts and are kinda bad at them but it’s stress relieving nonetheless and they proudly display everything throughout their apartment. their crocheted blankets are kinda lumpy and the colors aren’t perfect but they’re neils favorite. the kinda leaky mugs neil makes arent really usable but jean adores them anyways and uses them in any way possible (other than drinking from them). jean likes to paint things around the house just to make it brighter. neil knows jeans fondness for colorful things so whenever he sees something particularly bright and eye catching, he’ll buy it for their apartment. jeans favorite thing so far is a five inch tall multicolor and glittery walrus statue. it’s on their living room mantle. andrew despises their apartment and has only been in it once.

touch becomes really important between them. little touches, fingers brushing napes, intwined pinkies, ankles resting against each other, a nudge of a forehead against a shoulder. the bigger touches are important too. they make time each day, on good days when touch is good and doesn’t make their skin crawl, to just feel each other, whether it’s cuddling on the couch, jean giving neil a foot massage, or taking the time to wash each other in the shower and rub lotion into each other’s skin afterwords

erm idk if u can tell but i am feeling v soft for them rn :,) pls talk to me more about jeaneil... tell me if u want more angst or fluff i have many ideas about both

[angst-fairygodmother]

19. “Oh my God, you’re jealous aren’t you?” + 31. “I told you not to fall in love with me” for Reader/Klaus, pretty pls? 💛

A/N: In which Ben is a catalyst and rolling his eyes so hard he’d probably die if he weren’t already a ghost... Word Count: 1390 Content Warning: It’s Klaus, so the obvious warnings of reference to drug addiction apply.

Klaus’s fingers danced along the web of small, nearly invisible scars on your shoulder, tracing them almost reverently as you lay, half-asleep, beside him.

“What are you doing?” you grumbled, not bothering to look at him.

“Nothing!” you felt the bed rock as he jumped away as if burned. “Just…wondering.”

“Wondering?”

“You got those scars during the horrible six months where my father actually managed to keep us from seeing each other, right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “But you knew that already. What’s up?”

“I was just thinking about how you never told me where they came from. And it’s basically the only thing I don’t know about you.”

“Oh, well…” you shifted awkwardly, not totally sure whether he was asking about the story now, or if it was truly just an observation.

“What?!” he cried out, indignantly. When you glanced behind you, he was sitting up and gesticulating wildly at the air off to the side of the bed.

“Good morning Ben,” you said casually, rolling back over and hoping that this distraction of an obvious argument with his brother would get Klaus to leave you alone and you could go back to sleep.

“You told Ben and not me?” Klaus suddenly cried accusingly. You could feel his glare burning into your back and rolled over to face him completely.

“Yeah. Well, I mean, when we were fourteen Ben was a way better listener than you. He kind of still is.”

“How do you know? You can’t even see him. For all you know he could be mocking you or talking over you the entire time or have walked away and left you talking to the empty air!”

“Geez, Klaus, calm down. Where is this anti-Ben animosity coming from all of a sudden?”

“I just thought we were best friends. But it turns out it was you and Ben sharing secrets.” His lower lip stuck out in a pout that seemed shockingly real in comparison to his usual theatrics.

And then suddenly it dawned on you.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous aren’t you?” you said, Ben echoing you in near unison and causing Klaus to flinch.

“Pthbt tch no. Of course not. Why would I be jealous of Ben?” he sputtered, his voice raising in octave, telling you he was definitely lying.  

You shifted, leaning over slightly so that you were sure he was looking at you (although if you had asked him, he would have told you that wasn’t necessary and he was never looking anywhere else).

“Klaus I-don’t-think-you-have-a-middle-name Hargreeves, there is no reason for you to be jealous of your brother, nor has there ever been.” You smiled down at him and he swore for a moment that his heart stopped. “You are…my very best friend in the entire world, always have been, always will be.”

He looked away, pout turning to something infinitely sadder for a flash before he hid it over with dramatics once more.

“There’s something more going on here than me telling Ben about my horribly embarrassing failed attempt to scale the academy wall and crash landing in the rose bushes and not you, isn’t there?” you asked, trying to catch his eye again.

“I…no. Of course not.”

You flopped back over to stare up at the ceiling. Now you knew something was wrong because he wouldn’t even look you in the eye while he lied to you. That usually meant he was hiding something serious (usually related to the severity of his drug use, or incidents caused by such). A near-silence fell over the bedroom and you thought for a moment that he might have gone to sleep, until you noticed the hissed, vehement one-sided conversation that suggested Ben was still about. You couldn’t tell what either of them was saying, but Klaus seemed upset and you ached to reach out and comfort him. Something in your gut was telling you not to though, so you stayed quiet and waited.

~

Later, you sat on your couch, still trying to figure out what happened earlier that morning. Klaus rummaged through your cabinets as if it was just another day, but he hadn’t spoken a word since you’d gotten up. There was a strange tension in the air and you hated it, it felt too much like your best friend was slipping through your grasp and there was nothing you could do about it because you didn’t know why.

Finally unable to bear it any longer, you snapped at him. “What the fuck is going on Klaus?”

He jumps, turning to look at you guiltily, one peanut butter covered finger stuck in his mouth, open jar in his other hand.

“You don’t have any bread?” he asked sheepishly, gesturing with the jar.

You glared. “Gross. But not what I meant and you know it. There’s been something going on with you for days since you showed up and asked if you could crash here for a while.”

“I…” he walked over and practically collapsed beside you, rolling his head to the side to stare at you intently. “Do you remember what I said when we were kids?”

“You said a lot of shit; I’m going to need you to be more specific,” you laughed, turning to face him and sit cross-legged.

He sighed. “The first time you invited me to stay over instead of going back to the academy…when you offered to let me sleep next to you and see if that helped with the nightmares…”

You frowned, concern creasing your face. “There were a lot of jokes about us sleeping together. But we’ve been doing that for years now. I don’t understand what the issue is…”

He pressed his lips together and seemed unable to meet your eyes again.

“I told you not to fall in love with me?” he said softly and uncertainly.

You felt your heart drop. You would be lying if you said that you hadn’t fallen in love with your best friend, probably not that long after that very conversation, and the years hadn’t changed that feeling no matter how hard you tried to pretend otherwise. But surely if he had noticed, it was long before now, so why bring it up?

Your silence, and the expression of apprehension, nearly actually fear, on your face made his throat go tight and his breath quicken.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, trying to backtrack. “I shouldn’t have brought it up or let it…I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it.”

“How long have you known?” you asked hesitantly. Even as he tried to backtrack, you felt a weight lift off you and decided that you might as well embrace it.

He was silent for a long time, and you watched as he braided and twisted his fingers nervously. You reached out to place a comforting hand over his, hesitating and hovering for a second, in case he wanted to pull away from you.

“I…for sure? Since I got unreasonably angry that Ben knew something about you I didn’t…” he shrugged. “But I’ve probably felt that way for so much longer. I mean, you’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. Always have been…”

“Wait…what?” your hand tightened unconsciously around his as you gaped at him. “I thought you meant…shit…you’re serious?”

“For once in my life. Looks like I broke my own rule.” He tried to laugh but it sounded strangled and sour.

Your heart leapt in your throat and you cast about, searching for what to say.

“Shut up, Ben,” Klaus scoffed before you could and you raised an eyebrow, questioning. “He said we’re both idiots and that we’re the only ones who didn’t see years ago what was between us.”

“Is he wrong? I mean…” you shrugged. “I knew how I felt but I tried to hide it because I’d rather have suffered in silence than risk losing you, and you apparently didn’t even realize…”

“You’re taking his side? I’m hurt!”

You rolled your eyes at the playful indignation in his tone, a far cry from this morning.

“Oh no,” you gasped exaggeratedly. “How will I ever make it up to you?”

The wolfish grin he shot you as he leaned closer sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know,” he purred. “But I have a few ideas. And we have so much time to make up for.”

[secret-engima]

...only one more after this, promise! -Ice in my veins, never gonna run, venom on my fangs, fire on my tongue

...

........

DRAGON FFXV AU.

Specifically an AU where Prompto was, unbeknownst to Cor, part of a special science project to create the ultimate weapon.

A DRAGONSHIFTER.

Let’s assume shapeshifters used to be a thing, but died out or something so now there’s just legends. But Verstael “I Unearthed the Actual Adagium” Besithia is not going to let petty things like “extinction” and “possibly fictional” stop him from getting what he wants so he starts gene tampering. Most of the clones in the project die, but one Special Clone that he added special genes to survives, and he can’t WAIT to see if it will learn to shift when it grows old enough-

Except then some Lucian (a very righteously angry and oblivious Cor) STEALS IT.

Cue Prompto growing up in Insomnia, terrified of two things in his life. One is anyone finding the barcode on his wrist-

The other is anyone finding out he can turn into a monster.

A dragon, specifically, but Prompto doesn’t really CARE what kind of monster it is when he had to learn to handle suppressing the transformation during his puberty all by himself and HE’S never heard of the old shapeshifter legends so he has NO IDEA that he’s anything other than a freak. Let alone that, secret of secrets (something even Besithia doesn’t know and Ardyn never told) the lines blessed by Bahamut can shapeshift too, and are ALWAYS draconic. Of course, it’s been so LONG that even the LCs and Oracles don’t really remember how, and Luna and Noctis are the first in generations to shift instinctively (Regis ... did not take it too calmly when his son hit puberty and then accidentally transformed while having an argument with Gladio. Gladiolus also did not take it calmly, but that was because he went from arguing with a tiny ten year old to getting roared at by a six foot tall baby DRAGON. Everyone give thanks to the quick thinking Ignis and his hot chocolate or else something would have gotten set on fire that day)

(also coincidentally in this AU, Besithia stabilized his last prospective shifter clone with Ardyn’s DNA, thinking that since he was an ancient human he was closer to the time shifter’s died out, he genuinely has no clue that Ardyn IS a dragon shifter and that’s why his special project clone didn’t die instantly).

Anyway! Shenanigans happen and Prompto and Noct become friends ala canon and Prompto struggles with his raging dragon MINE instincts over his friends and Noctis struggles with his own MINE instincts over Prompto (do not glomp the civilian, Noctis tells himself, do not attempt to flop all over and cuddle the civilian, DO NOT grab a hairbrush and compulsively groom the civilian he won’t understand your following dragon instincts and not intentionally being a weird creep, Noctis tells himself sternly as his instincts screech).

And then like- SOMETHING happens and there’s DANGER, probably an assassination attempt or something while Prom and Noct are doing video games in Noct’s apartment and Noctis goes down before he can debate the risk of transforming in front of Prompto with a glancing blow to the head and Prompto sees his friend-packbrother-wingmate go down and sees BLOOD and-

He-

R a g e s

The Crownsguard and a few Glaives arrive at the apartment to find that the assassins are very, very dead and in multiple pieces, and the living room furniture has been smashed against the walls to make room for the Very Unhappy and Enraged golden dragon that JUST BARELY fits in the apartment living room, hunched protectively over the unconscious Noctis and hissing at the startled newcomers, with something dripping from his fangs that makes a very acidic hiss and pockmarks on the floor when it lands.

Cor, who KNOWS who Prompto really is and is there and can see the barcode peaking out on one scaly wrist is just- his brain is shorting. Cor.exe no working pls reboot.

Nyx, who has no idea what’s going on but as a Galahdian (and secret Coeurl-shifter) remembers enough stories to know this young dragon is maybe 5 seconds away from eating them, goes into damage control while internally screaming because MARSHAL STOP STARING. MARSHAL WHY IS NYX THE BRAINCELL RIGHT NOW HE DOESN’T LIKE IT.

So anyway yes I now have a new AU (oh no) and here are some thoughts:

Noctis is a fire-breathing/four legged dragon, Luna is an ice/eastern dragon, and Prompto is a GoT-Style dragon with venom he can spit rather than fire-breathing, that way all the stuff in the title is officially covered. >:D

Shifters still exist, but are mostly in hiding because Obviously and also are predominantly Galahdian, which means they can only take non-flying, natural animal shapes. They are also still rare. Ulrics are the only Coeurls left, but the Bellum have a Behemoth or three and the Arra have a handful of Wolves.

Ardyn has 0 clue that he technically has a SON running around playing best friends with his “hated enemy”

The day he finds out Besithia used his blood to make a child and didn’t tell him is also coincidentally the day Besithia and his lab go Fwoosh because Ardyn may be Scourge crazy and vengeful but he is still a dragon and YOU DO NOT take a dragon’s hatchling away from them. Ever. For any reason.

Also coincidentally Ardyn decides that he is going to have to rework some of his plans.

Also also Dragon shifters get BIG. Regular shifters are the size of their animal or smaller (Bellum Behemoths are smaller than regular Behemoths but far more Fightey), but because Magic™, dragon shifters when full grown/old get to be HUGE. Like- can knock over four story buildings huge. KAIJU HUGE. But that’s when they’re full grown. Noctis at twenty is only about 20-24 feet at the shoulder. Wait until he’s fifty+ years old and THEN we’ll hit Kaiju sizes.