#reasoning can be anything at all so if you wanna elaborate on your choice in the tags go for it

[waywardsalt]

not counting maruki because he would sweep in an instant imo

yes im counting morgana as having an ‘outfit’ he has a distinct metaverse-specific design

[fastandcarlos]

Soft Launch : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: follow the journey of lando’s soft launch to reveal your relationship

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1,302,382 others

landonorris: one shoulder up or two 🤔

67,505 comments

username1: anyone else notice the person who accidentally walked in midway through the stream tonight!?

username2: lando definitely had a girl over…

alex_albon: you must be desperate for content if this is what you’re posting 🙄

username3: why won’t you tell us who was round your apartment lando??

georgerussell63: how about neither of your elbows up you weird man

username4: I keep replaying it but I can’t work out anything about them…

username5: what if lando has a secret girlfriend or something

danielricciardo: you know it’s okay to look at a photo and change your mind about posting it

username6: not everyone rinsing lando in the comments 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55 and 1,937,605 others

landonorris: life’s been pretty good recently ☀️

58,391 comments

username7: any particular reason why that might be mr lando norris

carlossainz55: care to elaborate? 🤔

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 zooming over to ferrari now to fill you in

username8: wonder if it’s pretty good because of someone??

georgerussell63: glad to see you with a smile on your face buddy 🫶🏻

username9: is he hinting that this new girl has made his life better??

maxverstappen1: I wanna know all of the gossip too 😂

username10: I’d love to be the reason for lando’s smile fyi

username11: I’m more interested to know who even took these photos

oscarpiastri: I’m fed up of this new version of you, you’re too smiley to have around the garage now

landonorris: @/oscarpiastri sorry not sorry 🙃

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by team_quadrant, maxfewtrell and 1,492,606 others

landonorris: apparently if you find a girl who likes quadrant, she’s definitely a keeper ✨

78,301 comments

username12: this sounds like confirmation to me that lando has a girl

team_quadrant: girls who like quadrant = girls with good taste

username13: do you reckon that’s her in the photo ☺️

danielricciardo: ik a better brand of clothes that they could wear 😂

landonorris: @/danielricciardo quadrant > enchante 🤫

username14: really hoping this new girl likes quadrant so she can stick around forever

username15: I like quadrant…does that make me your girlfriend now??

charles_leclerc: I like quadrant but you’re not willing to date me…

username16: @/charles_leclerc also not a girl you clown

oscarpiastri: if I do a photo shoot with you do I get free merch too?

pierregasly: why am I so invested in being part of lando’s comment section lmao

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,594,706 others

landonorris: thank you for bringing so much positivity into my life 🫶🏻🥺

89,394 comments

danielricciardo: you’re welcome honey 😇

landonorris: @/danielricciardo you wish that I was talking to you

username17: look how perfect they look together wow

username18: it’s official, he’s actually managed to get a girlfriend

georgerussell63: congrats on not being the single friend anymore 👏🏻

carlossainz55: little lando norris finally got himself a girlfriend 😂

username19: I want to be happy but I so wish that this was me

username20: the look on his face 😭 I’m so happy he’s happy

charles_leclerc: if you want some tips on how to be a good boyfriend just zoom back to ferrari again

username21: my heart is so full - cheering for these guys all the way!!

username22: constantly telling myself not to be bitter that my dreams now won’t come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by mclaren, charles_leclerc and 1,395,604 others

landonorris: race weekend with a first timer, luckily for her she picked the best team to support 🧡🏎️

89,483 comments

maxverstappen1: did she get a choice or did you force her to do this??

landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 she said she wanted to support the team with the most handsome driver 💁🏻‍♂️

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris she thinks I’m handsome awh

landonorris: @/oscarpiastri 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

username23: how have we not got a face reveal when she was literally at the race

username24: I never had lando down for a soft launch kinda guy

danielricciardo: did you even introduce her to all the teams on the grid, you know, let her make her on mind up??

username25: whoever she is she knows how to rock papaya

username26: omg the height difference is the sweetest

logansargeant: I remember when I used to hug you and you’d rest against my chest like that 😂

alex_albon: look at you being all cute and charming

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 1,022,494 others

landonorris: holidaying with my favourites 🌊☀️

89,504 comments

username27: eurgh lando you’re killing us with all these almost photos

maxfewtrell: I’m the number one out of the two of us though right??

landonorris: @/maxfewtrell whatever makes you feel better sweet cheeks

username28: my heart can’t cope with this for much longer

oscarpiastri: so you holidayed with your favourites and yet I’m here at home 🤔

username29: lando replacing oscar with his girlfriend is peak

username30: lando knows what he’s doing and this is so not fair

username31: I bet he’s laughing at all of us when he looks at his comments section

alex_albon: it’s alright for some 😂

username32: lando I’m on my knees pls just tell us more about who this lucky girl is

georgerussell63: I think your fans might turn on you soon if you don’t stop playing them 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 1,302,493 others

landonorris: another race weekend with my best human there to cheer me on 💕☺️

99,398 comments

username33: FINALLY HE GAVE US WHAT WE WANT

username34: omg she’s absolutely gorgeous lando

username35: we won at last woooooo

alex_albon: still can’t believe your girlfriend supports mclaren 😭

oscarpiastri: don’t forget who the most handsome mclaren driver is tho 😂

username36: they look so in love together 💞

username37: I want to be jealous but how can I be when they look so cute

lilymhe: we’re double dating asap btw

danielricciardo: they don’t prepare you for when the kids grow up 🤧

landonorris: @/danielricciardo sorry dad 😭

username38: my heart has officially exploded 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, danielricciardo and 1,948,502 others

landonorris: whoops they caught us 🥺

tagged: ynusername

138,849 comments

username39: these two are gonna be such a duo omg

username40: ah and he even tagged her 🤩🤩🤩

danielricciardo: my kids are the cutest things in the world

carlossainz55: smooooth operator 😂😂

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 high praise from you my friend 🫡

username41: thank goodness that the soft launch era is now over

username42: I’m already in love with them so much

username43: I don’t want to be yn anymore, I just want to be her best friend

charles_leclerc: congrats buddy 👏🏻👏🏻

alex_albon: stop making the rest of us feel single even though we’re also in relationships please

ynusername: ily 🥺🥺🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[waddingham]

oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

×

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision. 

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice. 

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it. 

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

×

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting. 

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?” 

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring. 

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder. 

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

×

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet. 

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea. 

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

×

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday. 

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again? 

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

×

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

×

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise! 

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter. 

It's well, well worth the extra step.

×

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen. 

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.” 

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.” 

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him. 

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles. 

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters. 

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food. 

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it. 

“Yeah? That one a winner?” 

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles. 

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns. 

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls. 

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?” 

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him. 

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds. 

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated. 

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit. 

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin. 

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips. 

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink. 

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners. 

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile. 

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

×

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind. 

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen. 

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself. 

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him. 

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite. 

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening. 

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.” 

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips. 

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

[bi-sapphics]

bi women whining about lesbians having boundaries is the REASON some lesbians prefer les4les relationships smh

okay, i said i didn't wanna get into this too much, but this ask is kinda pissing me off because it's yet again dismissing us calling out the very real and harmful treatment we face as "whining." i'm going to put effort into this answer, because i haven't seen anyone talking about it outside of twitter and i'd like a post i can fall back on for reference.

ANYWAYS.

what boundaries though, anon? please do specify. because i've heard plenty of reasons for deciding to go les4les float around many times now, and they've never expanded out of the following criteria (and anything related):

Bi Women Bad™

bi women are tainted by men

(potential) attraction to men ruins a relationship where no men are involved

bisexuals cheat (yeah, still, it's a belief)

all bisexuals are polyamorous, dirty, liars, uncommitted, etc.

bisexuals inherently can't be gold stars, which, matters for some clean purity reason i guess??

bi women "don't understand" what it is to live a life solely dedicated to women and other sapphics (+ to exclude men), and/or somehow "couldn't provide" a lesbian what they're looking for in a relationship. this has NEVER been elaborated on, especially the latter idea. and theoretically speaking, lack of experience doesn’t make for worse or lesser support.

if a bisexual identifies as butch or femme, it ruins the unnecessary safety illusion that all butch/femme relationships will be les4les without fail. it's literally just the same TERF rhetoric as the safety illusion that all WLW relationships will be AFAB4AFAB. no, really, unpack that. what makes you feel safer about knowing your partner isn't transfem, or, y'know, bisexual (also one is much more conceptual than the other, which is more materialistic. so like. yeah. what's the point.)

bi women aren't apologetic to lesbians for who they are 24/7 and therefore oppress them

bi women "are homo/lesbophobic" (see: not tolerating biphobia & harassment, using butch/femme, being dykes, using the term "sapphic", using the ⚢ symbol, sharing a history with lesbians without needed permission, daring to ask for a community of solidarity with lesbians, not exclusively dating women in their own personal lifestyle choices, etc.)

the false and generalized assumption that *all* bi women are *actually* homo/lesbophobic (see: forcing lesbians to like men, claiming comphet can't be real because it makes one bisexual instead, erasing canon lesbian characters, derailing lesbian posts, being ignorant towards lesbian issues, and/or otherwise treating lesbians really shitty and not including them where they belong, etc.) ─ including this one because for some reason, it's a one-way street and the reverse is bad-faith, bigoted, and exclusionary.

ETA: bi people don't talk enough about mspec lesbians, apparently (even though they do so pretty much all the time on twitter but ok)

keep in mind that these are all things that i have ACTUALLY SEEN being used as arguments consistently over time with my own eyes, unironically. and yes, they are always about bi women. who else would it be, pan women? other mspec women? who else could be a potential romantic/sexual partner to lesbians? who else is les4les designed to be a protective shield against?

i've never seen a good faith reason that isn't either biphobic, misogynistic, a combination of both, or two-sided in a way that acknowledges bi women can't oppress lesbians, despite how much we try to add that when we agree that lesbians don't oppress bi women either. or even anything that doesn't exclude the fact that, behaviorally, we can do anything that you can too (not regarding inherent attraction).

i guess i'll address bi4bi while i'm at it. i'm not a hypocrite, i think the same thing goes for us. lesbians can't oppress us, lesbians can do whatever another bi sapphic can, yes lesbians can be biphobic but it's not a trait they all share in one big hivemind ─ and it's certainly not enough in numbers to consider a bi separatism movement for radical purity reasons (*cough* lol lmao), etc. i've seen some people say bi4bi is acceptable because mspec hatred within the queer community is so much worse than monos get within their own rightful spaces, which, i see where they're going i guess (because we do face the highest statistics from both sides), but i disagree because in the LB dynamic neither letter has more power over the other in the real world, and certainly not enough to unbalance ourselves into inconsistency like that.

the other thing i want to say is, i don't inherently have a problem with any random les4les or bi4bi relationship picked out of a hat in a lottery. i even headcanon some of my favorite ships as such sometimes. also, factually, some fictional ships and even real relationships are one of those two, or bi4les/les4bi. as i said in the tags you're responding to, anon, these types of relationships aren't inherently flawed, especially if they form by chance and not intentional setup. in fact, those like t4t, aut4aut, ace4ace / aro4aro / aro4ace*¹, blk4blk, disabled4disabled, and the like actually have a systemic and structural reason for setting their preferences. but doing this just to avoid other sapphics? the "safety" reason is absolute bullshit, and just creates a further unnecessary divide among mono and mspec sapphics that really shouldn't be created. we're not a danger to each other, we're both in danger from everyone else ─ namely, the straights™.

hell, i would even say casually looking for a partner who shares your orientation labels is totally valid, even though the preference would have no real basis or weight if it's not in bigotry. and then if you fall in love with someone and they don't meet that expectation, so what!! who cares!! it'd be a really dumb loss of opportunity to say no due to that minor and irrelevant difference despite the fact that you both seemed ready to commit to each other as partners. that, and actively excluding harmless groups of people, making it your life mission at all costs, especially for a few twitter discourse points™, is such a waste and only hurts real people's feelings, yourself included.

you're welcome to send another ask just to mock me or say i'm wasting my time proving your point by whining about “the mean angry oppressive lesbians”, or whatever i dunno. but i just want you to ask yourself what really makes these particular "boundaries" so important to you. what makes you feel threatened? we're not forcing you to go date a bi woman right the fuck now or else you're Biphobic, i'm just asking you why you would (hypothetically, of course) reject a bi woman as a potential partner at the top of your list upon finding out she's not a lesbian. i answered why this matters so much to us, but i actually do want to know, why does this matter so much to you? just wondering.

*¹aros & aces absolutely do not share the same rivalry and discourse among each other like they do with the rest of the queer community. aro4aro people have never made it a point to exclude ace people, but rather alloromantics as a whole, and vice versa. that is why they are not comparable to the sapphic side of _4_ discourse, as generally speaking, unlike aros & aces, lesbians & bisexuals treat each other far too often on a wider scale like enemies rather than sisters in sync (which is what we should be doing instead).

[ironhusband]

Rant time because I just watched Red, White and Royal Blue:

Things I disliked

(0. The fact it already took over the wiki I swear to god-)

1. Okay let’s start small. I will never forgive the exclusion of the “your dad is hot” text chain.

2. I also don’t like how the karaoke scene played out but I guess I can live with it.

3. No PowerPoint presentation???? Crime.

4. The texts felt a little abrupt? They were supposed to be showing us Alex and Henry becoming friends and they cut them off in two seconds. It didn’t seem so obvious why they’re suddenly friends at new years.

5. Somehow everything they added was cheesier than the book. I mean the book is cheesy but in a way I loved, but this movie kinda made me wanna gag.

6. Ok yes I know this is petty but. I still think the actors were horrible choices. I was not impressed by the acting if I’m honest and they had fine chemistry but it wasn’t… Alex and Henry chemistry. Like book Alex and Henry had so much chemistry it was electrifying and you didn’t want to take your eyes off them. Movie Alex and Henry are believable as a couple… and that’s it. Plus I didn’t love Alex. Alex is one of my favorite characters of all times and this guy just felt wrong. There were some moments that were good but his inherent charm just wasn’t there.

7. Ok now getting to the less petty reasons. I just. Hated. Everything they decided to do with the “side characters”. I will never forgive the exclusion of June, Alex’s best friend and confidant the person who knows him better than anyone. Watching her and Nora be a couple in the sidelines was my favorite part of reading the book, but even if they would have cut those hints, I just. Am so incredibly angry that they deleted the character altogether. It is simply wrong. June was the person who understood the pressure Alex was on most of all, while still having the tension of disagreeing over their passion of politicos. For god’s sake, June was the person that helped Alex figure himself out…. She was important on her own and to the plot and she was sorely missed from the movie. Bea on the other hand was… confusing. I hated how they dealt with both of the families in this movie, which I will elaborate on later, but if they’re giving us a Henry pov how come we get this dull three lines woman, not the punk with addiction problems that is afraid to go out in public. I mean, even the way she dressed - the real Bea would hate it. And we didn’t even get the ‘I love him on purpose’ conversation with her. Nora was fine, I suppose. Her and Alex’s dynamic was mostly a copy of Alex and June, but I could live with it. Except that we don’t know anything about her that we knew in the book. We don’t know she’s the vice president’s daughter. We don’t know she is a computer whiz or good with math. We don’t know hers and Alex’s history. We don’t know she’s a chaos goblin. She was just there. And Rafael Luna who was so important to the plot is just absent… I think they replaced him with Miguel Ramos (based on the trip story) which. I hate that so much.

In short my complaint with most of the side characters is that you could narrow it down to one friend for Henry and one for Alex, and nothing will change. The side characters were some of the best parts of the book and I hate that I didn’t get to see them but some boring cardboard cutouts with the same name.

8. Henry’s family. I mean I guess it was fine. Except that Bea’s struggle with social anxiety is so important to understand why Henry is afraid of coming out. Except that his relationship with his mom was a sore spot and the fact she showed up to support him meant so much in the book. Except that his grief towards his dad was barely expressed and c’mon we could have seen them watching at least one of his movies. Except that no one in that family has ever acted the way they have in the book - besides maybe his brother - and it was. So unclear why Henry wanted to please them. The queen was absent altogether and the king was surprisingly okay about Henry deciding to own his truth? I mean, things got so bad in the book, that Henry considered giving up his title… the movie shows none of that.

9. Alex’s family - besides the fact that June was missing, I think they misunderstood a big part of Alex’s character- his parents’ divorce. Alex’s childhood in Texas is such an important part of him and the fact his parents aren’t even divorced when that effected him so much… it’s why he often deflects when things get personal, why he prioritises his career over his love life, it’s why he acted like his relationship with Nora is now just a way to mess with the press. It’s why Texas is such a bittersweet place for him. It’s why he hasn’t considered his sexuality sooner either, at least the way I see it. It’s why saying I love you to Henry was such a big deal to him - why being rejected hurt him even more. But this time his parents are happily married? This time he has no one to share the burdens of being in the family with? It just felt wrong.

I also just didn’t like any of them or felt their performances to be true to their character. Alex’s relationship with his mother was so hot and cold and the changes in it felt so unnatural (Ellen herself wasn’t as fun either…). And Alex’s relationship with his dad was ok but it didn’t hit the way it should - he didn’t seem as hungry for his approval, as distant from him because he still feels slightly abandoned. Alex coming out to his dad meant so much in the book because of that - it was the first real connection he had with his dad in years and it gave him the courage to admit how he felt towards Henry. Rafael Luna’s absence and the way he was an important part to understanding Alex and his dad was also very noticeable (Luna being Alex’s connection to his dad through their culture and politics, and also Luna and his dad being friends - all of this part of the reason he was so betrayed by Luna being a republican, and felt more distance from his dad who wouldn’t explain this - but also the way it related to Alex’s relationship with being queer, and being Latino and queer…)

Alex loves politics so much because of his parents too - especially in the wanting the approval thing, making a difference as a Latino politician just like his dad and wanting to help his mom because he believes in her cause especially- and the way they showed it wasn’t it. And of course the whole dynamic felt completely weird without June.

The movie made a good point to talk about Alex’s family as his connection to politics and making a difference and representation, but the book did all that by showing and not telling, so even though I liked the fact they had a conversation about white privilege in the movie, it felt superficial because it didn’t relate to who Alex is.

10. We got very little of the emails too which was weird. And a lot of stuff they transferred from emails to real life. Most of Henry and Alex’s relationship was long distance and the emails showed that. But the sweet poetry, the texts about queer history, the mention of meetings and events…. It was all missing. We missed too much of them in that. Maybe this shouldn’t be so high up on the list but it made me incredibly sad. When I saw edits of the book into a “movie” all I looked forward to was the actors voicing over those sweet love letters as we saw Alex being involved with politics.

11. So much I didn’t enjoy about the reveal. The fact we didn’t see the people’s support too much and the way they loved “history, huh? Bet we could make some” (which wasn’t in the emails!!!). I didn’t love that they skimped over how it affected America politically too. Where’s the reveal that republicans outed the president’s son? Which is part of the reason Ellen won? Where’s the funny tweets calling Henry a ho? Where is the speech at Texas? “To you specifically, I say: I see you. I am one of you. As long as I have a place in this White House, so will you. I am the First Son of the United States, and I’m bisexual. History will remember us.”

We never got to see how much the reveal meant to others. It just meant a lot to Alex and Henry to have support, and I’m sorry but that wasn’t enough for me. That wasn’t the point.

12. Alex’s bisexuality. The way it was handled makes me seethe. Ok they had him say it twice but like. Where is the journey of realization? Where is all the little hints before Alex discovers himself (hello the poster??? And also the fact he made out with guys before like yes ok but he didn’t think anything of it at the time. He was in denial)? Where is the coming out to the public? Alex was so touched to discover queer history and he never once let people forget he was bi, even tho movie Alex was perfectly fine letting multiple people call him homosexual when he isn’t. I loved Alex because of his bisexual journey - because it was “later” in life (as I’m not while he was a teenager) too and because it was a part of him without being a big deal. And this movie stole that from me. It broke my heat. This movie, in every way, forget that representation matters.

13. If One Last Stop’s strength was showing us how the private people that changed queer history slipped through the cracks, Red, White and Royal Blue’s strength was showing us the milestones that brought us here and the milestones we can look forward to. And yet in the movie… there is nothing. No discussion of which political figures were gay. None of Henry’s love of iconic British queer celebrities. No photo of the hands up protest on Alex’s desk, no talk about the 2014 gay marriage legalization. Sure it may seem like small moments… but they aren’t. The book was built on the foundation of queer history and queer culture, both American and British, and it payed homage to it and loved it and showed its respect for it…. But the movie cut it, mercilessly misunderstanding its importance. It may have said “History huh? Bet we could make some” but it didn’t get it.

These are the reasons I felt like this is a ‘I fell in love with a prince’ romcom with a gay twist. Sure they got all the technical parts just fine. But it didn’t show the truly beautiful, mesmerizing parts of the book. I wanted to see the real Alex on the big screen. I wanted to be amused by Nora and June. I wanted to feel for Bea. I wanted to see how sweet and shy and dorky Henry is. I wanted to see the political intrigue that hooked me, the romantic emails that made me swoon, the journey to coming out that was so touching, the specific humor that made me laugh and return again and again to devotedly read Casey McQuiston’s books. I wanted to feel like I was seeing the couple who feels like it’s love or die and in their case maybe it is.

Instead, I feel like I just got the answer to who tops which is the last thing I cared about.

Sure, cuts are necessary and this wasn’t a show… but to me it felt like what they choose to cut was the book’s heart.

Things I liked

1. Zahra

That’s it

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

WIP Tag Meme Thingymabobber Post the document titles in your WIP folder (no matter how silly or non-descriptive they may seem) and let people send you asks about the title that intrigues them most! Provide a snippet or further elaboration to askers!

I have to cheat a bit here as these have no titles at present and are currently like..in document folders with no titles. So instead you get further details of my ideas. Send asks if you like or want to know more of course :D

Tagging: Steal with abandon I never wanna leave people out askdjnsajksd

Tagged by @theowlseye Because I do indeed have THINGS but those THINGS are not at all connected whatsoever! However I can tell you that I have:

Parasite AU Verse

My OC Ocelot Unit I’ve been building up

General Fic Ideas Like:

That long spiraling Venom fic that is eventually going to get off the ground.

Ocelot getting badly injured and visiting the Sorrow’s river purgatory. But his is uhm, well pretty full, and long. He can hear the Sorrow as he moves around, but not see him,  not at first.

For some reason I’ve really wanted to write the ‘fight we did not see’ between Olga and Snake in MGS2 on Big Shell. 

Further Details Below Cut

Here’s my Ocelot Unit Thus Far (And yes they’re all queer b/c I said so)

Fawning Lion is one of the best shots (long range, close range,) he's kinda scrawny, very shy. Youngest

Yowling Tiger is twice his size. She's very fit and agile. Better with knives than guns.

Angry Panther is the oldest (four years older than Ocelot). He's one of the OG and kinda bolder as a result. Large. Wide.

Growling Cougar does a bit too much weed but he's the best at CQC and the best spy of the unit next to Ocelot himself.

Raging Snow Leopard is kinda chill, a bit underweight. But he's super fast and can be in an out with intel in ten minutes, or less. His best time is one minute eight seconds. Ocelot almost framed it.

Cheering Cheetah is the cleverest. She's the most varied in skills and can sweet talk her way out of anything, and then stab you in the back for the trouble.

Irate Jaguar is the other OG unit member. He's the third eldest of the lot and aged a bit too hard. He probably drank too much at one point, the wrinkles are permanent. When Panther isn't challenging Ocelot it'll be him, but he's loyal to a fault.

Casual Lynx kinda just likes to vibe, and take things apart to get information, then put them back together.

Lion has gotten the most attention when I’ve explored things thus far and I’ve not yet decided on things like hair colour, skin tone, etc etc but at *present* this is how I’ve got them set up. They’re a work in progress. Ocelot hand-picks them all, and of course some can be added if he wants them with him. Nobody understood why he picked Lion at first, but he knew what he saw and what he saw was potential.

The Parasite AU

The long and short of this is Kaz being second-hand exposed to the parasites vs having direct therapy. Hence why I headcanoned his being under the skin spider webbing vs a face mask. I also believe that Kaz’s parasites eventually infected a tiny bit of others, depending on how much Kaz either knows or likes them *and the parasites made the choice more than Kaz, feeding off his subconscious.* Ocelot has some in his neck, and Venom’s got some that embedded where his prosthetic would attach. The parasites protect them and Venom gets a little bit of a strength boost as a result. Kaz can also communicate on that level with Quiet and Code Talker, respectively.

There’s far more coming, it’s a wholeeeee thing I’ve got going on. But I’ve established the parasite’s having some sort of ‘mind of their own’ not to be mistaken for true conscious, mind.

And that’s about it for now. I definitely have more but this is where I’ve started fleshing things out, so to speak.

Thank you for tagging me! :D This is a good excuse to post my stuff with further background without making a weird “how do I describe this’ in another fic.

[gas-stxtion]

@freeddead said: 🎶 //i wanna see what you come up with >:3c

(let me give you songs that remind me of your muse! - open)

//ohoho yes :3c so i'm gonna pick five songs that i think have gerry vibes, and i'll share some lyrics that are interesting to me or otherwise stand out. i also won't explain my choices for now, but if you want i can elaborate later ASDFJKL;

Everyone's Dying (Grandma's Drunk Again) - Roe Kapara

Grandma's drunk again, passed out in her soup

The rats are singin', there's asbestos in the roof

Mr. Perkins in the front yard with his gun

The kids are cryin' as he points it at the sun

--

They're setting fires to the churches tonight

The shadows dance on the wall

Waitin' for the answers to their calls

Baby Hotline - Jack Stauber

I contend that your drinking eye has never opened

I insist somebody will die and I hate hoping

Wishing that the pills let you cry and I hate coping

Someday I will go back outside and see her okay

How to Embrace a Swamp Creature - The Mountain Goats

Got out of bed, could not remember my own name

Condemned to walk the soil amongst all creatures wild and tame

Go where I go, do what I must

Crawl, starving, on my belly, licking up the dry dust

--

I see the light in your window

Ride the elevator to the sixth floor

Stand with my arms at my sides

As you open up the door

Time Machine Invention - Cloud Cult

I’m not going anywhere ‘til I’m back to where it was we were before.

I don’t need anything except always needing just a little more.

I run in circles so I can kick me in the pants.

There’s a reason God is doG backwards: we must chase the tail.

--

I’ve finally solved the puzzle of my time machine invention.

You see, in the future, this present is the past, so

If you give this moment your fullest attention

We’ll just keep going forwards with no need for going back.

Bird With a Broken Wing - Owl City

It feels like I'm a lone survivor

Forgotten in a dark and deadly world

And on my own I walk alone

To see the sun again I'd give anything

But life demands a final chapter

A story that we all must leave behind

It's do or die, and this is mine

The anthem of a bird with a broken wing

--

It's another night of the living dead

Like a viper bite in a spiderweb

It's so deathly dark in the alleyway

And a bleeding heart makes you easy prey

[raidenshogunmommy]

I got an ask for a continuation of this fic. I'M SO SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE ASK AND I DID NOT CHECK THE ID BUT I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Ok. But I'll be honest I don't wanna elaborate and ruin the prompt especially for Miko. But the amount requests like damn-

So. I'll write a continuation for Scara!! ( btw I have another ask for pt 2 of the fic I might answer that by adding more characters cuz I really love the prompt hehe)

And pls dni if you are not comfortable with the themes involved

Pt 2 here

Warnings: angst, no comfort, s€lf h@rm, major death (reader), gore, written before sumeru release or leaks hence, completely based on my imagination. (pls lemme know if I forgot something)

Genre: angst duh lol

Characters: Scaramouche×gn!reader

Tags: one-shot, continuation fic

He finds himself digging the knife that was meant to kill you into the the skin of his own arm after making sure you were out of sight. He couldn't finish his job in the end, after all he put you and himslelf through.

Back at fatui headquarters, he reports back to the Tsaritsa. No one has questioned him about the stitches on his arm or anything regarding his mission. Except of course the one who gave him the mission.

Scaramouche knows better than to lie to the Tsaritsa. So, he ends up confessing that he failed to complete his job. And also that he had fallen in love despite the strictly specific instructions to not. Also apologizes for having claimed he was incapable of regular emotions such as those before taking on the task.

He gets dismissed and gets asked to wait for her excellency's decision regarding his future as a fatui harbinger for failing a task that could've led them alot closer to their goal altogether.

During the unendurable wait, he also faces the unbearable heartache of knowing that all he ever did to the one he loved was use them, give them a fake relationship and fake happiness and hurt them. How could he live with himself knowing that? Even though he didn't have a choice in his forever continued existence, which he knew he didn't and never would, he really really just wanted to make himself hurt more than he hurt you.

He stares at his arm for a long moment. And it hits him. Even if he is unable to die, he can still feel pain.

Reaching for the nearest blade, he begins to recount and regret—

"Harbingers." The Tsaritsa calls out, as all eleven of them assemble in front of her in a flash and bow down in perfect coordination.

She holds her chin up as she proposes this new task which as she puts it is top secret and of the utmost important.

"This assignment is associated with the rumoured archon's child in Sumeru. Remember, this is an undercover mission, thereby forbidding you to ever reveal your identity as a fatui harbinger at any given point in the duration this year long mission." Making sure to accentuate her point regarding the seriousness, with just the surface level details, she takes a quick glace at the assembled group before continuing. "Be warned. The ploy is to extract any and all information about the whereabouts on the dendro gnosis and of course if at all possible given your status or position acquiring the gnosis itself, and then eliminating the informant." She pressed on the last part.

The tension in the throne room rose significantly, as looks were exchanged. But nobody expected the Tsaritsa to say what she said next.

"For this particular informant to become trustworthy— and let me be clear about this, you are required to use romance to soften them up. For this reason, only a person who can forgo of their own emotion can be the candidate for the job." With that in mind the duration of the mission starts to sound a lot more intimidating. The Tsaritsa patiently waits for them to process it.

In the matter of a few seconds, two rising figures are seen. She raises her brows in curiosity, she certainly didn't expect volunteers.

The figures that rose to the challenge were none other than Signora and Scaramouche, while the rest remain in their respectful stance.

Scaramouche boldly steps forward with a smug expression on his face. As Signora watches this she suddenly decides back down.

—Oh how he wished she hadn't. Because it ended up with him here. On the verge draining all the blood from his arm.

After a few hours of waiting in agony he heard footsteps as he hurriedly covered his arm and hid the blade.

"...T-the Ts-sarits-s-sa will see-e y-you n-ow." The quite anxious agent said through the door.

"I'll be there in a minute." Scaramouche replied trying his best to hide the tremble in his voice.

Walking back to the throne room after cleaning up his arm and hiding the wounds. As he nears it he begins to have this growing feeling of dread in his chest. He tries to reassure himself that its all in his head.

But when he finally reaches the throne his eyes immediately fall onto the corpse at the feet of her excellency's throne. There was no mistake.

He started in utter horror as his face pales and he feels a shiver go down his spine as he realises that the Tsaritsa is out of her seat. Behind him he feels a finger trace the length between his shoulders as her voice whispers in his ear "why don't you step forward and look at your now finished job." Her voice is like steel. She steps back as he moves forward at her command.

He drops down, his legs unable to support him any longer.

It was almost as if his heart stopped as he stares into your lifeless eyes.

"With...this out of the way, guess what? You can keep your position as a harbinger. Congratulations." The smugness in her tone was not even attempted to be hidden.

PLS FORGIVE ME FOR THE LATE REPLY AND AGAIN FOR ACCIDENTALLY DELETING THE ASK.

[hugespace]

Therapy helps rhett realize that all of those "I'm dead" UFC moves were actually just a way to fulfill his need for physical intimacy at a time in his life where he didn't feel it was acceptable to ask for it, especially from another man. Now that they're both adults and completely different people than they were in college, rhett decides it's time to explain it all to link and let him know that he actually misses that physical contact with him.

It took me a really long while, but I finally finished this one! I really loved that prompt, so thank you so much for giving it to me, lovely Anon. I was initially going to write it as a platonic/romantic friendship kinda story, but it seems I'm determined to write a hundred different first kiss + feelings realisation scenarios, I simply enjoy those way too much.

*** 2,5K ***

Let me hold you

He’s done it again.

Not so long ago, Rhett promised himself not to bring it up in front of cameras or a microphone unless he talks it out with Link, privately.

Especially not as a joke.

And he’s failed already, he scolds himself short after the Ear Biscuits episode is recorded and they’re both out of the room, heading back towards their office.

He thinks he could have just omitted it, shouldn’t have mentioned anything. It simply wasn’t necessary to mull over it again, even with the topic of the episode revolving around their college experience. It wasn’t a big deal, he said it himself, countless times. Every time they talked about it on the show.

So, every time.

There’s never been a conversation in private about that incident or anything that preluded it, never in the absence of people to entertain, never not around at least one recording device. Because why would there be? It wasn’t a big deal. A funny story, s’all.

He’s also never been able to just let things go, though, and thanks to that inability, the lore of wrestling and the “I’m dead” move had to live on. It was an innocent story, a funny albeit embarrassing one – their unofficial brand after all, an easy misunderstanding and a fun little anecdote, not his carefully curated version of what happened, nor a watered-down one, not just a part of the entire story devoid of any feelings associated with it, not a big deal-! And most of all, not… true. Not true.

Rhett isn’t sure if Link has been consciously going along with that wordlessly agreed upon version of what their UFC phase looked like, repressing the truth behind it, or… simply never realised what it meant for Rhett and genuinely thought of it as a humorous yet insignificant part of their friendship in the past.

Most likely the third option, he has to assume. After all, why would Link attach any meaning to it? It’s not like anything actually ever happened, not outside of Rhett’s mind at least. Frankly, he himself went decades without understanding his own motivations, more than once confused by why the memories of wrestling with his friend and laying on top of him felt both shameful and deeply comforting. Why even long after they grew up, stopped being kids, and as a result retired all their UFC moves, the only way he could describe what he felt thinking about that time was longing.

Until therapy happened.

Just like with many different things in his life:

There was something in the darkness, and then therapy shone a light on it.

It was like there were countless situations he navigated solely on instinct, without paying much thought to the reasons behind why he acted a certain way, and once therapy equipped him with the ability to do so, he unearthed an entire deep layer of feelings and emotions that were always there. Just hidden, even from himself.

The wrestling being one of those things.

So, he thinks Link doesn’t know.

And he’s finally determined to change that.

Why now, when he’s had so many chances to talk to Link over the years ever since he started being more in touch with himself? He doesn’t really have an answer; it’s just that after talking about it with such levity again, after repeatedly making a joke out of it, it feels like he might explode if he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t confess to Link what it was really like. And most of all, it feels like the yearning has become stronger lately, and the conversation yet again playing it all off as them being young and silly only ignited it, made the flame inside of Rhett burn brighter, threatening to make his heart combust.

“I need to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind.” Rhett says easily once they’re in the office. It’s not an unsure statement or a nervous plea with words tumbling out of his mouth before he can lose his cool and change his mind. It would have been all that and more a couple of years ago, sure.

But he’s a different man now. He’s not afraid to tell the person who’s been with him for almost the entirety of his life what he feels.

Link, however. He does look unsure, a bit alarmed even, when he looks at Rhett and responds.

“Sure-? What is it? Do you wanna talk now?”

It’s just like him to worry. Run a hundred different scenarios in his head, most of them negative, trying to prepare himself for every possible outcome of a serious conversation before it even began. It’s an anxious survival instinct that makes Link resilient to even the worst that life has to offer and able to face it all head on. But right now, it’s nothing scary. Rhett doesn’t want his friend to be worried, so he quickly says as much.

“Don’t worry, s’not bad. Just something we talked about on the podcast today.” The blonde sits down on the couch and pats the cushion next to him, hoping he appears to be as calm as he truly feels inside and that it might dissolve some of Link’s concern, still written all over his face.

The other man takes his place on the sofa and looks at him expectingly.

“Right. So-“ Rhett’s calmness doesn’t completely evaporate once Link gives him his full attention, but it’s suddenly laced with some nerves. “About the wrestling. You know, in college. And before that. And- Especially about my ‘I’m dead’ move. I’ve been thinking about it, and-“

“Rhett, I swear, if you made me sit down for a talk only to tell me you’d like to make it a part of our conflict resolution again, then ha-ha. Very funny. I’d like to go get myself some coffee now.” Link cuts him off with an unamused look in his eyes and almost makes a move to stand up.

Rhett is quicker though and grabs the brunette’s arm before he can really move, effectively making him stay in place.

“What? No. That’s not what I’m saying. Like, at all. I-“ He realises he’s still holding onto Link’s arm and instinctively wants to retract his hand, but that same feeling that led him to initiating this conversation in the first place makes him reconsider. “I’ve been thinking about what it all meant and why I did that, especially when we fought or you were angry with me, and-“

“Because we were young.” Link quickly answers what wasn’t even a question. “We had too much energy and neither of us really wanted to hurt the other by punching him or- or fighting in earnest. What else would it mean.”

“Link can you let me talk? I’m trying to say something important.” Rhett squeezes Link’s forearm. “So, as I was saying. I mostly did it when you were angry or I was feeling unsure, and I didn’t realise it back then, but- But I know now, that I just… needed reassurance. You know, physical contact.” He explains, looking straight into Link’s eyes and trying to interpret his reaction before it comes.

When nothing happens, and the brunette just stares back at him with a furrowed brow, he feels compelled to continue and elaborate.

“Like when people… hug after an argument-?” His brain almost challenges him to make a different comparison, presenting a parallel between laying half-naked on top of your best friend and another activity people often partake in to make up after a fight. But that’s not- It’s not what he’s trying to say. It’s not like that.

The face in front of him frowns in confusion, blue eyes squinting and mouth opening and closing again, only letting out a puff of air and no sound at first.

When Link finally responds, his voice is unsure, like he suspects that he’s not understanding something right. “Are you trying to tell me you wanted to hug me when we bickered, so you pushed me to the floor and laid on me till I was even angrier, instead…?”

That’s not fully what Rhett meant, but it’s close enough, so he nods.

“What the crap, Rhett-? You're not making any sense.”

“Okay, listen…” He decides to go for a different approach. “We still don’t hug after arguments. We never hug hello. I think I could count on my fingers how many times we’ve actually hugged each other as adults, outside of the show!”

“Yeah! That’s just not what we do! We’ve never done those things, it’s just not a part of our relationship- I still don’t know what you wanna tell me here Rhett.” Link throws his hands in the air in a gesture of resignation.

“I want it to be a thing we do, okay?! I always did, but I was afraid to ask for it so I just took what you could give me without talking about it. Can’t have actual intimacy? Make up a UFC thing so I can be close to you! Can’t hold you when I’ve made you mad? Better lay on top of you till you give up and have no choice but stop!” Rhett pauses to finally take a breath.

“That time that guy saw us- I’m sure you remember I stormed off right after-? I panicked, it was like him seeing us and thinking there was something else happening almost made feel like it was something else, and since I started it, it also felt like I wanted it to be something else. I got so angry at myself for even trying and I never did it again. I’m sure you remember that, too!” Words flow out of Rhett in a hurried and increasingly loud cascade, while Link’s eyes grow bigger and comprehension dawns on his face.

“I know how stupid it sounds. But you know how I was. We were well into our thirties when I still refused to get close to you. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, it was the opposite – I wanted it a lot, man.”

„But I thought...?” Link seems to be turning a thought over in his head. “I thought you just never liked it. That the wrestling thing was about you… asserting dominance. That’s what it felt like at least. Like you trying to act like an older brother or somethin’.”

“No- It was me wanting to be close to you and not knowing how to ask for it. My very convoluted way of expressing love, you could call it. And I’m sorry it took me-“

“What changed-? I mean, what made you wanna talk about it?” There’s urgency in Link’s voice when he cuts Rhett off.

“I… I realised I miss it. I told you, we still don’t really hug or get intimate, however that sounds, and I’m not gonna just topple you and pin you to the ground again. We’re too old for that. For once, I don’t think either my back or your shoulders would survive if we started wrestling every time I wanted to be affectionate. But also- We’re over forty, Link. What does it say about me if I can’t just ask a person I love and have loved for almost four decades to hold me when I need it and would resort to, well, aggression-? That’s not how it should work.”

Link ponders Rhett’s words for a few beats before opening his mouth again, only to let three breathy words escape. “You love me-?”

It seems like the wrong thing to focus on, Rhett just opened up to say he not only craves physical intimacy now, but also struggled with that same need when they were younger so badly, he had to invent an entire intricate system allowing him to be closer, and Link questions the one thing he knows already. Because of course he knows, Rhett’s said as much dozens of times, of course he loves him. But it appears he has to say it anyway, judging from the weird look in Link’s eyes.

“I do, of course I lo-“ The blonde begins, yet he doesn’t get a chance to finish and ask whether Link heard the other part of his confession at all, because at once, his mouth isn’t free to keep talking and there’s no air left in his lungs as the man who was just sitting right next to him plunges forward and collides with him, lips first.

Oh. Rhett manages to form one more coherent thought despite being startled and entirely taken aback. Link misunderstood. That’s why he got hung up on the love confession. That’s not what Rhett meant, that’s not what he was trying to say, it’s not like that-

He feels like he should clear things up as quickly as possible. Logically, he should be panicking, racking his brain for a way to straighten things up, to explain to Link that it wasn’t what he was trying to say without making things worse, without ruining everything and making his best friend feel miserable and embarrassed, until…

Until Rhett realises his body went rogue and started responding without his conscious decision, his lips are moving against the other man’s, one of his hands is cupping Link’s face, while the other strayed away and is caressing his back. And it feels like his heart is trying to break out of the ribcage with how hard it’s pounding in his chest, along with his stomach doing wild summersaults. And he’s not panicking, not at all. And it’s not a misunderstanding, how could it, when he loves Link with his entire soul, with his whole being- And exactly like that, it hits him. Starting this conversation, he thought he already understood everything, but he didn’t– there was still that last puzzle piece missing.

They come up for air, panting from the intensity of that first kiss, foreheads flush with each other. Rhett finishes the sentence he began before Link’s move changed everything. “Of course I love you.” He means it now, he means it exactly like Link took it and can’t comprehend how he didn’t think of it before, but it’s perfectly obvious now.

So he hugs Link. He encircles the man’s body with his long arms, squeezes, and holds him, feels his friend snuggle into him, nuzzle his face into the crook of his neck and breathe deeply, holding Rhett's larger body in return.

All he needed was ask for the closeness.

He asked, and he got it.

He got all he wanted and so much more.

So, so much.

[buckysbabygorl]

Writer’s Block

Summary: Friends help each other out, that’s just how it is. Steve doesn’t bat an eye at his and Y/N’s behaviour, but insights from Sharon make Steve rethink things between them.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, dumbasses Bucky and Sam, an extremely chaotic turn of events

“Steve!”

Sharon nearly spilled her beer as she jumped at the voice, surprised to hear it so loudly after Y/N had been holed up in her room for days.

Steve turned nonchalantly at this voice; used to the chaotic out bursts. “Yeah?”

The young woman trotted in, dishevelled and tired but manic looking.

“I need your shirt, I’m on to something here--”

Steve stood without hesitation; as if he’d done this thousands of times before. And he had.

“On it,” he said, pulling the garment off with one hand and tossing it in her direction.

She caught it with ease, not even taking in his shirtless state as if she’d seen it a thousand times before. And she had.

Sharon however had never seen this interaction before, and stared in awe at the two’s casual exchange.

As Y/N rushed out of the lounge and back to her room, Sharon couldn’t help but gawk.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, amused.

“What?” Steve asked, now shirtless on the couch, “Oh--she’s writing.”

He sipped his beer after his statement, and Sharon was surprised at how he expected that to answer her question.

“I’m sorry?” She said confused.

He leaned further back into the couch, getting comfy. “She’s writing--she needs my shirt when she writes.”

Sharon laughed; “Why’s that?”

Finishing off the last of his bottle, he set it down on the floor as he spoke; “She says it helps her write when she gets stuck--it’s a weird process but…” he shrugged as he grabbed a new bottle.

“How romantic.” Sharon teased, sipping her own beer.

He smiled awkwardly; flustered at where the conversation was going, “Come on--” “What? We’re friends, we can talk about this stuff.” She said.

He gave her a look, “Can we?”

She shook her head at his prudence, taking another swig.

“Yes,” she said, “It’s not like we were married. We kissed like--twice, plus you’re not exactly my type anymore…”

Steve chuckled, “Oh right--how is Maria, by the way?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, pointing a finger in his direction, “I want to hear more about this process.”

“It’s no big deal, it’s just…” He thought, choosing his words carefully to not give Sharon any more material to tease him with, “Helping out a friend.”

“Bullshit.” She said. He cracked open the bottle with his hand, avoiding response.

It was a touchy subject around the compound; his and Y/N’s very… intimate relationship. They were friends, coworkers they’d say. At least on the surface. But it couldn’t be missed how quickly he fell in line for her; and how her first instinct with anything and everything was to go to Rogers. They refused to go on missions without the other; they were touchy, they were jokey, if you found one the other was always in close proximity. Hell, the team was surprised they weren't sharing a room yet. But apparently, for some unknown reason, they told everyone and themselves they were just friends.

Sharon looked at him, deadpan. “Steve.”

He looked back to her in playful annoyance. “What?”

She slapped her thigh with her free hand, finishing off her drink. “Come on, let’s get into this.”

He sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you--she doesn’t see me that way.”

She jumped on his choice of words immediately, “She doesn’t?”

The implication being, of course, that she didn’t but he did.

Flustered, he waved a hand at her. “No, no, no--that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not not what you meant.” She countered, “You like her.”

“Shut up,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s not a no.” She hummed as she thought of another point; “And what’s she need your shirt for anyway? That’s cute as hell.”

He sighed again, “Well--it helps her… get in the mindset.”

“Pardon?” she asked at his cryptic explanation. “‘Mindset’?”

He didn’t want to admit the reason, running a hand over his face, flustered.

He bit his thumb, his voice coming out muffled as he spoke. “Well, she writes about… characters… in romantic settings, so--”

He spoke, drawing out his words, “She needs inspiration, for those kinds of scenes.”

“Dude, EW!” She said, way too much information coming her way for being this sober, “I don’t wanna hear that.”

“NO,” he defended, “Not in a weird way. But like--if the guy gives the girl his shirt, or he picks her up or something, I dunno, but like--she’s very sensory. So the shirt helps with getting into the moment. She can put herself in the character’s shoes, if that makes sense.”

Sharon’s eyes went wide as she cracked open a bottle for herself, “Well I don’t know how you’re not using that to your advantage.”

Steve did a double take, “Elaborate.”

She laughed through her nose, “Well, if I were in your place--”

“--Hey.” He warned.

She raised her hands in defense, “I’m just saying, you could be giving her a hell of a lot more inspiration than your shirt and your cologne.”

“You think she likes my cologne?” He asked.

“Steve, you’re a grown man. In fact you’re an old man, figure it out for yourself.”

They sat in silence as Sharon waited for Steve to ponder this.

He jolted upright as if having an epiphany; “you don’t think--”

“--really? Are you fucking kidding me?”

She laughed at his blushing cheeks, he ran a hand through his hair cursing under his breath.

“So what now?”

“Oh my god--” Sharon said through gritted teeth, “Go give her inspiration. I swear you’d never get laid if I wasn’t around.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Steve joked.

“Hey,” She said, kicking his shin lightly.

He laughed, “Hey, we’re friends, we can talk about this.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Are you gonna go in there or what?”

“Like--now?”

“Yes! You dumbass, go get your girl. I can wait, I can handle myself.” She sipped her beer as if giving an example, and patiently waited for Steve to go.

Hesitantly, Steve rose from his spot, wiping his hands along his jeans nervously. He was stalling, evidently so. Was he really gonna do this? He didn’t know what was lying on the other side of that door, metaphorically speaking. He knew she was likely frantically typing away, thinking out loud, and egging herself on. How could he even begin to approach that? The man didn’t have any moves; hell, the last time he’d kissed a girl was Sharon, and that was ages ago.

He was frozen in place; glancing back and forth between the hallway and the woman in front of him. What the fuck was he gonna do?

“What are you doing? Warming up? Just go.” Sharon complained.

Steve sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance, “Fine,” he exclaimed, “But if this goes south, it’s your fault.”

“Fine, fine, whatever, I take the blame. Just do something already.”

Fed up with her pestering, Steve forced himself to leave the room.

Okay Rogers, you got this.

As he hunkered down the hall, moving quickly before he could change his mind, Rogers continued to silently hype himself up.

You--you’re captain america. You. Are. America’s. Ass. You’re already shirtless, and that’s half the battle won.

But as he found himself in front of Y/N’s door; all his false surety had disappeared.

Steve groaned to himself, “Oh my god, what am I doing?”

“What are you doing?”

The voice of his friend made Steve jump, as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Bucky and Sam approached him from the other end of the hall.

“Steve, where’s your shirt?” Bucky asked, equally as confused as Sam. They then realized who’s door he was in front of, and immediately lit up.

“Whoa, are you coming or going Rogers?” Sam asked, assuming illicit activities were taking place.

Steve pursed his lip, looking back to the door in front of him. “Coming, at least trying to.”

“Seriously? You’re actually making a move? I never thought I’d see the day--” Bucky said.

“--Proud of you buddy, we didn’t think you’d ever go for it.” Sam added.

“Wh--” Steve stuttered, looking between the two, in both shock and embarrassment. “Does everyone know how I feel?”

“About Y/N? Uh--yeah.” Sam said.

“Come on Steve, you’re not exactly the most subtle when it comes to feelings.” Bucky explained, “You’re always together..”

Sam added on, “...whenever you’re not, you’re depressed…”

Bucky nodded, “You remember her birthday, she remembers yours--”

“--Wait, do you guys not know my birthday?” Steve asked.

The two friends shared a look, squinting as they pondered how to break the news that; no, they didn’t.

“July?” Sam asked.

“I know you’re a Leo,” Bucky said, as if that would suffice for an answer.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, “It’s July first.”

“We’re getting off track,” Sam said, “What exactly is your game plan here?”

Steve put his hands on his hips, shifting his weight to face away from her room, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Well lucky for you,” Bucky stated, confidence in his tone, “We’re here to help.”

Steve looked at him, disbelieving, but also slightly intrigued. “Oh yeah?” He asked, half jokingly. At this point, he’d take all the help he could get.

“Yeah,” Sam spoke, nearly offended that Rogers could ever doubt the Wilson charm. And whatever the hell Bucky thought he had going for him.

“Just go in there and be cool, flex a little, maybe be a little dismissive.” Sam said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky agreed, eagerly, “And like--act like she wanted you there.”

Sam snapped his fingers, “Exactly, make her come to you.”

Bucky and Sam stood, satisfied with themselves, as Steve stared slack jawed at the men in his presence.

“You guys are idiots, how have you ever gotten laid?” He asked.

Immediately the two jumped to their defense. As the three soldiers’ argument increased in both intensity and volume, they didn’t realize they’d attracted the attention of the woman on the other side of the door.

Y/N huffed as the sound penetrated her walls, snapping her laptop shut as she rose and charged to her door. Whipping it open, she startled the men in front of her.

Bucky screamed and nearly knocked Sam over, while Steve stared at her like a deer in headlights.

“Will you guys shut up, I’m trying to--” Her face lit up with a sudden epiphany, “Steve! Get in here.”

Before any of them could react, or argue, the young woman had grabbed Steve’s arm, and with surprising strength, pulled him into her room. The door slammed shut in Bucky and Sam’s faces, leaving them as dumbfounded as ever. They scrambled to press their ears against the door, not wanting to miss a second of whatever was going to happen next.

~

“Thank god you’re here, I need your help--”

Steve stood panicked in her doorway, unsure of what to do. She started pacing around the room, dramatically gesturing to further elaborate whatever point she was trying to make; which was completely lost on Steve. This was classic Y/N behavior; off on her own tangent and assuming Steve was with her every step of the way. Usually, he was, but this time he was too caught up in the ideas that Sharon, Bucky and Sam had put in his head.

Fuck, what did they say to do? Uh--flex. Damn it, what do I do with my body? What do I do with my hands?

Steve tried to control his expression; aiming for stoicism, cool, as Wilson described it. With his awkward smoulder, Steve moved to lean against the wall in a flattering way. He flexed, or tried to, as he braced himself in the most horrible attempt at casual standing.

He looked around the room; trying to be nonchalant while Y/N continued.

“So,” She said, “What do you think?”

“Uh--yeah, sure. Cool, whatever.” He said.

Dismissive, got it.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took in his stance, gesturing a hand to the wall he was placed against.

“Uh… what are you doing?” She asked.

Immediately embarrassed at whatever the hell that was, Steve stood upright.

“Nothing, nevermind,” He said in an attempt to brush off his previous actions, “What were you saying?”

She groaned, “Just get over here.”

She manhandled him, pulling him to the centre of the room, closely in front of her.

“Okay,” she said, “Try it.”

“Try what?” He asked.

“Try to kiss me!” She said.

He pushed her hands off his arms, “What?!”

She laughed stupidly, “You don’t have to actually do it. I just need to get a feel for the motion of it.”

She went to take a step forward, her arms getting ready to wrap around his shoulders. Steve took a step back and raised his hands in fear.

“What motion? What are you talking about?” Steve sputtered.

“Oh my god, were you even listening?” She teased, reaching for his forearms to pull him back. God was she strong. Or was Steve just oddly willing?

“Chris is about to kiss Hailey, or try to anyway. Sebastian and Anthony just talked to him and he’s finally gonna do it. Your shirt was working for awhile but now I’m getting stuck again. So--try to put yourself in that position. You just realized you’re in love with your best friend and you’re really gonna go for it. Act it out if it helps.”

Steve felt like he was going to throw up, lord help me.

“Y/N, I don’t think this is a good idea--”

“Come on,” she ushered, “It’s just me.”

“Exactly.” He said.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, not aware of the real sentiment behind his words.

“Please? Do it for me.” She begged.

He looked down to the hands wrapped around his forearms; this felt like cheating. It wasn’t supposed to go like this; using the incredibly odd and specific scenario she’d laid out for him. It was hitting too close to home; how could he use this as a scapegoat to get what he wanted? Confessing his feelings and holding her in a way he’d wanted to for so long… the guilt overcame him.

But as he looked back into her eyes, as she was pleading for him to do this for her, he knew he couldn’t say no.

“Alright--can you just, can you close your eyes? It’s freaking me out.” He said.

She nodded eagerly, closing her eyes at his request.

He sighed, I guess it’s now or never.

He slipped his arms from her grip, and gingerly took her hands in his. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, and resisted the urge to pull her closer. To press a kiss along every delicate finger in his grasp, to take her immediately how he wanted to. He inhaled, he exhaled, he had to pace himself.

“Okay,” He whispered, readying himself for what he was about to do.

“I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long that it’s driving me crazy. I--I don’t how to do this; how to do this right but I have to do this now because I know if I don’t I never will.”

He laughed at himself; the romantic honesty of it all.

“I’m crazy about you; I can’t get enough of you.”

He let his hands glide down to her wrists, bringing her to his chest and placing her hands on his shoulders. His hands fell to wrap around her waist, drifting his fingers along the shirt that he knew was his, revelling in the fact that she was in his clothing, and in some indescribable way, in his possession.

She was lost in the low timbre of his voice, completely consumed by his words. It sounded so real.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, breathlessly in her ear. “I could just…”

He allowed himself to trail off, lips ghosting just over hers, taking in all the beautiful features of her face that he’d admired countless times before.

This was it; this was the moment he’d been praying for.

She broke into a smile, opening her eyes and playfully squealing.

“That was perfect!” She said, not moving from her position. “That was so good, how’d you think--”

He didn’t let her finish.

Words couldn’t describe how good her lips felt on his; how intoxicating the feeling of her bare skin was in the palms of his hands.

He clutched her tightly as he kissed her; gripping the soft flesh of her waist in a desperate hold to keep this moment as long as possible. Indulging himself in her taste, her touch.

His tongue trailed gently along her bottom lip before gently taking it between his teeth.

She gasped softly as he deepened the kiss, her hands instinctively wrapping in his blond locks.

As she tugged at his hair, eliciting a groan from Steve, he shifted his hands down to her hips and pulled her taught against him.

Her hand moved to cup his chin, lightly scraping the stubble with her finger tips. She moaned as the action made Steve’s fingers dig into the skin of her back. She arched her chest at the feeling of the possessive hold.

Why the hell hadn’t they been doing this the whole time?

She pulled back from his kiss, trying to catch her breath. Steve couldn’t read the look in her eyes; a mix of shock and confusion, and another emotion he wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

She tried to clear her mind as her hands shifted to rest on his chest; she felt his heartbeat pounding with the rise and fall of his own breath.

“Get on the bed.” She demanded.

Steve’s eyes widened at the command, stupidly ogling her as her hands moved to remove her--his shirt.

“What about your story?” He asked her.

She chuckled lightly at his naivety, reaching out to grip his biceps and pull him towards her.

In one quick motion, she pulled them on to her mattress. Steve reached out his hands to brace his fall, hovering above her.

With a lustful glint in her eye, she smiled.

“Fuck the story. We’ve got better things to do.”

~

“Sam we have to go,” Bucky said, “They’re gonna start fucking and I don’t wanna be around for that.”

~

Tags: @babyblue-07 @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @lonewolf471 @babybluereads @marianas-studyblr @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms

[thefanficmonster]

Lucky Me (Sequel To Unlucky)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You aren’t always born with luck. Sometimes, you meet people who bring it to you. In short, they are your lucky charm.

Requested: Yes, but not in a typical way. A big thank you to all the wonderful people who read, liked, reblogged and commented on part one - Unlucky.  

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  and many more ❤❤❤

They are the reason this story is being written. What was originally supposed to be an elaborate one-shot turned into the most liked piece I’ve ever written. I can’t thank you enough, guys. You are amazing and I hope you like this one just as much or even more than the previous. Love you ❤❤❤

Y/N’s POV

I’m grinning at my reflection in the mirror as I put on a pair of earrings. My face is already touched-up with a little make-up and my hair is looking on point. I can almost see my own reflection in the shine of excitement in my eyes. I take in my upper body via a quick once-over in the full body mirror opposite me, and I finally relax my muscles that I didn’t ever realize I was tensing.

“OK, now I’m ready.“ I say as a form of encouragement as I reach behind me for my phone that’s sitting on my bed.

You might be wondering where I’m going? Who I’m going with? What’s the occasion behind this many preparations and pampering?

The answer: Nowhere. No one. Nothing. I’m literally not even going to leave my house.

It might seem ridiculous to someone else, but to me, to my hypnotized mind, it’s perfectly reasonable to be getting so amped up over a FaceTime call. Yeah, you heard me correctly - a FaceTime call. 

Well, you see, this isn’t the first time we FaceTime, but it will be the first time we’ll see each other’s faces. I wanted to level the field so I didn’t let him on to what I look like, where exactly I live, etc. Basically, he only knows my name, which I am still prepared to call unfair, considering I don’t know his real name. 

A brief backstory to my first ever real interaction with Corpse: I was introduced to him by my friends. They are the ones I always turned to with all the scary shit happening in my life. Often times they didn’t know weather to comfort me or laugh at my curse. My friends suggested I start sharing it to a youtuber named Corpse Husband. You see, I love YouTube narrators and I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Nightmare and I, to be perfectly honest, always kept the idea of sending him my stories in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and checked out on of this Corpse Husband guy’s videos. And then another. And another. And before I knew it I was having a marathon after which I was too paranoid to get online, walk home alone at night, leave my curtains open etc. It wasn’t all thanks to the stories themselves. A lot of the fear factor these stories strike with should be credited to the way they are read. Let me tell you, this guy had it all figured out with the reading. Not sending him my stories would just be wrong. So I did, I sent him my first ever creepy encounter which was with a stalker from my high school and it took me only two days to forget about it. It only crossed my mind when my friends blew my phone up, demanding I watched Corpse’s new video. I kid you not, I got more scared by the story when he read it than when I lived it. That’s what settled it for me - I decided to send him each and every story.

And then one day, out of the blue, my life changed for the better in more ways than one. It got turned completely upside down, like a rollercoaster, and I just had to hold on and enjoy the ride, embrace the adrenaline rush and excitement, knowing full well that I chose to get on and there’s no way I can get off halfway through. 

I’m being too metaphorical. He sent me an email. He freaking reached out to me. And I was posed with a rough choice. Took me a minute, but I chose to reply to him, I chose to trust him, and I couldn’t just leave him on read one day simply cause I chickened out. Yes, I’m unlucky and these things don’t happen to unlucky people. I mean, they do, but they are nightmares disguised as a dream come true. I’ve lived all my life cautiously: if something sounds too good to be true it’s either not as good as marketed or not true at all. If it’s dark and late and there are no people around, FaceTime someone. If your Uber driver’s sketchy, cancel the ride. I take all the precautions and I still find myself in the worst situations. Or at least...

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. A simple ringtone I hear every time he calls me. A simple sound that causes me butterflies when I hear it and ultimate devastation if the caller ID doesn’t read the name I want. It always gets me excited, probably more than it should. This time is different, however. It’s scary almost. I’m nervous, anxious, scared, hesitant - all things I never feel when I’m about to answer his call. 

With shaky hands I pick up the call and find myself looking at the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now I know why I would have never initiated this meeting, because I know what color my face is right now. I know my voice has let me down before I even attempt to speak. I know I look like a mess. I know my obvious crush is showing.

Corpse initiated this meeting. He said he was getting too curious and he wanted one of his best friends to see him and for him to finally see her. It’s been about seven months since we first started texting and I haven’t let out a single peep about it to a single soul. It’s just between him and I. We are each other’s safe space away from the rest of the world.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second there.“ His voice is not as confident as other times when we’ve talked. His trying to hide his own nervousness and all I wanna do is hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to. I kept telling him over and over again that we don’t have to do this if he’s not sure that he actually wants it. I even offered to show him what I look like, not expecting to see him in return but he declined, saying it was now his turn to even the field.

“I was in another room.“ I manage to say, my voice only shaking a little.

We spend a few moments just looking at each other. Admiring one another. For someone who prefers digital interaction, I am surprised to realize I wish he was actually standing in front of. I wish I could hug him. A long hug of comfort, mutual understanding and hidden feelings.

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head which causes a few strands of hair to fall over his eyepatch, “I’m sorry...It’s just-...Fuck I’m stumbling.” He chuckles nervously, “I just...can’t believe you are real. You are a real person. And the most beautiful person I’ve seen. That’s corny, isn’t it.” He looks away from the screen, his face now a shade of red. “But I mean it. I’m embracing my corniness. You are beautiful, Y/N. Not that I’m flexing or anything, but I’m lucky to have met you.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes stinging from the tears that have suddenly formed. I don’t want to let them fall, but I don’t have much say in that. “Well, mister Corpse, I can’t begin to compare. I mean...that hair! I still cannot believe it’s you. You are not just a deep voice in my mind. You are....you are...”

“Everything you imagined and more?“ he jokes, making my whole body heat up. “I told you you could trust. I mean, if the hair doesn’t confirm I’m who I say I am, I don’t know what will.”

“Actually, I never tried to imagine what you looked like. I knew those visions...I knew they didn’t matter. Faces don’t matter to us, Corpse. I think you realize that.“

And just like that, all I’ve been keeping hidden is pouring out. I don’t try to stop it - you can’t stop a hurricane with bare hands.

“I never needed a face to imagine us. I always saw as talking on the phone, playing Among Us. Reading scary stories to each other on Discord. I never needed a face to imagine your company. To imagine what we could be...“ I trail off, letting the first tear slip down my cheek.

The most sincere look appears in his eyes, “Fuck, I wish I could hold your hand right now. Never mind, I wish I could hug you, Y/N. Hug you and not let go for a long time.”

I laugh halfheartedly, my chest burning from the intensity of this moment’s intimacy, “I can always tell you where I live.” I’m only half-joking. I really want to see him in real life, not just through a screen, but even this call is out of his comfort zone, let alone a physical meet up.

He surprises me yet again, “Saturday. I’ll bring the take out, you pick the movie.” he says with a smile that is literally saying ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’

“How are you sure I don’t live in a different state, or a different continent all together?“ I tease, making an attempt to put my composure back together.

He smirks, “I pay way more attention to your stories than you’d think.” I laugh, shaking my head as a pointless method of fighting the pesky tears that he has 100% noticed by this point. “By the way, just because we’re....” he thinks for a second, “in a weird zone between friendship and...something more, doesn’t mean you have to stop sending me stories. I absolutely love reading them for my audience. They love em too.”

I just realized I am yet to tell him the crazy miracle that has happened. “Well, the thing is...I don’t have any.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock which makes me laugh, “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Since the day we started talking I have not experienced a single scary thing. Deadass. I swear on my life.”

If I wasn’t so head over heels for this man already, the baffled expression on his face would definitely send me falling for him. He’s just that adorable. “Wow.”

“I know right.“ I nod, “Seems to me you have enough luck to share with me.“

His eyes light up at that comment, showing just how meaning full it is to him.

“You’re my lucky charm, Corpse.“

“I will never be more proud of any other title, Y/N. That I can promise you with no hesitation.“

“Deadass?“

“Deadass.“

[hops-hunny]

Girls Like Her

Pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Black!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.7k

Request: N/A

Summary: In which Kyoya is smitten and not afraid to show it.

Warnings: None! Fluff.

A/N: this is so self indulgent and I don't even care I NEEDED some Kyoya with a black girl bc where's all the color in the ouran community??

Kyoya had a fine eye for spectacular things. Running the host club with Tamaki required it. He was always looking for something of interest that he knew the guest would like and that would bring in a nice bit of money as well. That's why he was mesmerized when he saw (Y/n). Sure, Kyoya had seen girls that were deemed "beautiful" by whatever measure of beauty the rest of his high class socialite peers thought. However, he had never put much thought into what he personally found beautiful but now thanks to her, he didn't need to.

Sure he had seen women with nice skin. It wasn't very uncommon. Going to school with girls whose parents made most people's yearly salary in a day meant they were well cared for. They took care of their skin with the finest of products, as did he. However her skin was unmatched. Nice hues of brown which glowed beautifully in the soft daylight of music room 3. Not a blemish or wrinkle in sight. Smooth and brown all over like a bewitching goddess. And sure other girls had hair. It was all a blur to him however, nothing he could point out or was anything but ordinary. All of it was the same straight hair in the same bland style. But hers however?

She wore some of the most elaborate styles he had ever seen. He didn't know the proper names for them at first but the more she visited the host club, the more he'd overhear her speak about them to the other guest. Box braids, goddess twist, faux locs. Each style suited and complimented her well. Anytime she'd change it up he'd observe it carefully, viewing every bump and turn on the art that was her hair. His favorite though was when she'd wear it naturally.

 God was it a sight. A large, picked to perfection afro atop her head like the crown a princess, no, a queen of her caliber should have. It reminded him of the clouds in the sky he'd see on a nice summer afternoon except far more eye catching and far more mesmerizing.

"Tamaki?" Kyoya questioned, looking up at his blonde friend. The last few of the guest had trickled out by now.

"Yes mommy dear?" He quipped, walking over to his raven haired friend.

"Is there a reason we don't see Lady (L/n) any time other than the host club? How come I've never seen her in any of our classes?" He asked, trying to ignore the stupid look Tamaki had on his face.

"Kyoya, are you in love?! Oh how amazing! I always knew this wo-"

"Forget it, this is a waste of time." He began to head to the door but stopped as Tamaki stopped his path.

"Wait! (L/N) as in (Y/n) (L/n) right? She's a year below us, that's why you probably never see her outside of class. We don't have any classes with her except lunch if you count that." Kyoya hummed at the man's words before walking to the door, opening it. 

"Thank you." He said, giving him a nod of acknowledgement.

"No problem, dear friend."

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

Kyoya stood behind his podium, greeting guests as they came through. He offered each of them the same fake smile he'd give, confirming their host choice for the day. He never cared too much to remember faces, just the different things they'd enjoy and how he could make profit off of them. Well everyone except-

"Kyooo! What's up? How ya doin today?" She chirped, leaning close to him as she offered him a bright smile from behind her supple plump lips. He smiled down at her, a genuine one (not that he'd ever let anyone know that).

"Ah, lady (L/n). A pleasure to see you as always. Your usual I presume?" He said, searching for the twins' names as he went to check the mark.

"Actually I thought I'd switch things up today!"

"Really? Who will it be then?" Whoever it was would be so lucky to be graced with the girl's presence. Her smile grew wider at his question as she leaned even closer.

"You! You do host right? I haven't seen anyone come to you for some time." She mused, resting a brown hand on his arm. Normally he'd remove himself from anyone's touch but for her he didn't mind so much. He'd even go as far as to say he enjoyed it. "Any excuse to stare at that nice face of yours longer."

'The same could be said even more so about you, darling.' Is what he wanted to say but consumed by his own nerves he let them get the best of him. "Usually I find myself too busy to," he started, noticing her face drop, "However I can always make exceptions for ladies of such high beauty as yourself, princess." She smiled, heading over to the empty table that Kyoya rarely hosts at. She sat on the couch across from him, fiddling and moving around as usual. (Y/n) was an unusual energetic girl who found that she couldn't sit still for more than a few seconds, which was a trait that usually drove him up the wall but when it came to her he found it to be quite cute.

“You’re not going to eat or drink anything?” (Y/n) asked, shoving her mouth with the tiny tea cakes that sat on the silver cake stand. Kyoya let a soft smile take his face as he watched her. He always kept them hidden in the back because he knew they were her favorite and they were far more expensive than anything else they served. The cakes themselves were imported from France daily which was obviously a pretty penny but, he didn’t mind. The smile on her face made it worth the extra bit of cash.

“I’m not much of a fan of sugar, it’s bad for your skin.” he stated, looking down at the little black book in his hands. She hummed processing his words before wiping her mouth off with a napkin.

“Well what do you usually drink? I wanna have the same thing as you!”

“I’m a fan of earl grey served black. No sugar, no cream.” he said. She eyed him carefully before giggling. She leaned in close, looking into his dark eyes as he stared back.

“Yeah you seem to be quite the fan of,” she cleared her throat to hide a giggle. “Black things.” Kyoya set his cup down, choking on the liquid. (Y/n) sat back in her seat satisfied, laughing loudly as she threw her head back. A few of the guests stared at her with angry eyes, upset by her mild disturbance. But, she didn’t care. She never did. Once his choking died down, she sent him a wink. “I’m only messing with you, Kyo-chan! Lightin up will yeah? Anyways I’d like to have a cup of what you're drinking. It couldn’t be too bad, right?”

Wrong, she had been deeply wrong. Kyoya smiled in amusement as she sputtered out the tea, coughing dramatically. “Is it not to your liking, dear?” he asked in a sarcastically cheerful tone.

“Like hell it is! This shit is gross.” she began to pout, pushing the cup away from her. “I’d like my usual back please.” she said, looking up at him. He felt his face heat up slightly as he nodded his head, grabbing her cup before heading off with it. He searched the shelves carefully before finding her usual and preparing the way he knew she liked it. Too much sugar and too much cream. He chuckled at the thought, 'it suits her.'

(Y/n) smiled as he returned with her cup taking a sip as she let out a sigh of content. "As much as I'm enjoying my time with you today, my lady, I'm curious about your sudden shift. You always without a doubt choose the twins." He questioned, watching as she delicately set her cup down on the wooden table. He admired her presence. She was graceful but in a way he had never seen before, unique just like everything else about her.

"Do you want the real answer or the fake answer?" She questioned, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. Kyoya had a split second of a confused look before offering her another smile.

"Honestly is the best policy, my dear."

"Well- you see- ugh!" She huffed, slouching back in her seat. He couldn't help but find it adorable how the big ugly yellow dress swallowed her whole during that action. "I always wanna request for you Kyo-chan but you always seem so busy, so distant. I figured I'd let you have your own peace." She leaned forward on her hand as she rested her elbow on the table. "And besides, I've seen you reject to host much prettier girls so why would you host me?"

Kyoya's eyes widened at the (h/c) haired girls announcement. Prettier girls, than her? Too busy, for her? He chuckled some catching the girl's attention. Before she could ask him what was up he began to speak. "I don't mean to laugh in your face princess but I think you've got it twisted." He stood up, pulling the girl close to his chest. The other host watched with wide eyes and their mouths open at Kyoya's uncharacteristic behavior. "There are no prettier girls nor is there anyone I'd rather spend my time with," he tilted her head up bringing his face closer to hers, "Than you." (Y/n) stood there breathless at his words. Her eyes gleamed brightly at his confession.

"Are you busy this weekend?" She asked him faintly.

"Well, I'd have t-"

"Well now you're not. Take me on a date." His eyes widened at her forwardness before laughing softly. She did have a way of doing that, leading the way in any conversation no matter what the topic.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" He teased, pulling back from his hold to push his glasses up his nose. "Either way, alright dear. How could I say no to you?"

Tamaki watched from a far with a hand over his heart, genuine tears falling out of his eyes. In all his time he had known Kyoya, he had never seen him passionate about much of anything. To see his friend so sure of himself, so content in his emotions moved him. Thank god for the sun that had taken away Kyoya from his rainy days.

[beomglocks]

three’s a crowd ; h.k & k.th

summary : just you and your two boyfriends

pairing : bf!taehyun x bf!hyuka x reader

warnings & other : requested, fluff, idk much abt poly relationships other than there’s more than two people, sorry if this is bad LMAO, tyunning best boyfies, sleepy kai

you groan, rolling over only to find that you couldn't actually do that. had it always been like this? maybe not, you think to yourself. you groan once again and try to force your body to roll onto the right side of your bed but a firm hand kept you in place. already this early in the morning you couldn't have what you want.

"you're gonna wake him up," someone whispers softly. you peel open your eyes which are heavy with sleep and are lowkey protesting for you not to do that. you wonder for a moment if rolling over was worth slightly waking up for, however whoever was awake knew you were awake too now. maybe next time, you suppose. it would've been nice to sleep comfortably last night but it felt like you hadn't slept in ages and you can only guess why that is. the bed was cramped, and hot, and goddamn, someone had turned off the aircon in the middle of the night!

when you look up, one out of two of your boyfriends, taehyun, is already sitting up against the headboard, completely awake. his head is perched up against the headboard and in his hands is his phone. "were you awake this whole time?" you ask him. your voice is raspy and sounds gross as you prefer to not speak as soon as you wake up but you're curious. though it's true that he was the early bird among you three it was still fairly early for him to be awake.

"i woke up an hour ago plus the bed is too stuffy," he says looking down at you staring up at him. so he had felt it as well, nice to know you weren't the only one who slept uncomfortably. "well.." you let your words drift off into the air as you turn to the other boy who is completely unconscious on the bed. his mouth is slightly open and you swear you can see drool threatening to slip out of his mouth. his curly hair is messily strewn all over the place and in his clutches is a plushie you or taehyun had once gifted him for a birthday, you don't remember.

what a sight, you think to yourself. huening kai, ever the dreamy sleeper. he looks peaceful despite the contrast of how absolutely petrified he was at the sight of the haunted doll, annabelle, in the movie you all watched last night.

taehyun shakes his head with a smile on his face, "it's not like i suggested watching literally anything else." you make a movement that you think could pass off as a shrug but you don't think taehyun can tell. "he said he could handle it and you know i can't say no to our baby."

you move around on the bed for a moment to find a comfortable position to speak to him in without disturbing kai. "plus we all got to cuddle for once, even though it was hot as hell last night," you mumble.

"sacrifices were made," taehyun mumbles. he sets his phone down on the bed beside you and rubs your head in what you think is an affectionate way but he's been working out and it hurts. "ouch," you grumble, deciding to stick by hueningkais still asleep frame.

the moment you cuddle up to kai who is facing away from you, he turns over so that you're both face to face. you don't think he realizes so you just kiss the tip of his nose lightly. "breakfast?" taehyun suddenly asks. you think to yourself for a moment. it sounds tempting to go help taehyun with whatever he plans on making for the three of you to consume however, the bed is just too comfortable. despite it being hot, kai's body heat is a type of hot that doesn't make you uncomfortable.

"can you go make it? i wanna be here when he wakes up so he doesn't think we abandoned him after the movie." kai can be a bit tender after scary movies. the whole reason why you and taehyun hadn't slept well was that, for no other underlying reason at all, kai suddenly wanted all three of you to cuddle on the bed.

it was a cute idea that you agreed to and although taehyun was reluctant, he too agreed to the proposal.

you move your boyfriends hair away from his peaceful looking face and you watch as his nose scrunches up but soon goes back to normal after a couple of seconds.

"we also need a bigger bed," you mumble randomly. you hear taehyun snort a laugh behind you, "when we first moved in, the first thing i pointed out was how tiny the bed was." he crosses his arms over his chest and decides to watch you play with kai's hair.

you turn over with a playful frown on your face, "im not the one who had a growth spurt! the bed was fine back then." you feel hueningkai stir beside you and suddenly his gravelly morning voice is rumbling through your ear.

"bunk beds?" he mumbles with his eyes still closed and a lopsided smile on his face. you tug on a piece on his hair when he situates his body to lounge over both yours and taehyun's like free real estate. "hell no," you both say in unison, protesting the idea.

"im going back to sleep," kai grumbles with a slight roll of his eyes. taehyun pats the other boys hair, soothing out the stray bed hairs that are sticking out. "what do you want to eat?" taehyun asks, getting up from the bed and stretching out his limbs. "make pancakes," you suggest. thankfully, hueningkai is fast asleep once again so he can't protest to the food choice.

taehyun nods, walking away to the kitchen. you decide to stay and run your hands lightly up and down your boyfriend's back. his slow breaths are lulling you back to sleep too but you fight to stay awake. if you fall back asleep you know you both won't wake up until late in the afternoon and that just won't do because kai has to finish the errands he didn't finish yesterday.

you get up from the bed, making sure not to wake kai up, which somehow you manage to do successfully. you make a mental note that he sleeps like a baby after scary movies.

you walk into the kitchen and see taehyun preparing the ingredients for pancakes. he lets you watch him for a while until you go up to him and insist on clinging to him, something he can't and won't protest against.

about 15 minutes into making pancakes, hueningkai straggles into the kitchen. you snort out a laugh at his appearance. his tall frame is leaning forward, the first indication that he's still half asleep. the second is his pouty lips and closed eyes. his hair is sticking up in all different directions as he messes with it because he sees you staring at it.

"you left me," he scolds. "you were sleeping," you defend quickly. "i got hungry," you smile.

"whatever, they smell good," he yawns. "wanna taste?" taehyun asks, holding up a piece of a previously cooked pancake. "yes, me first!" you detach yourself from his back and stand in front of him so he can feed you. hueningkai sleepily walks over for his bite of food to taste after you.

"they're good," you both say. "of course they are, i made them," taehyun says proudly. you fight the urge to flick his head, "i helped." you mumble. "i don't doubt it at all," hueningkai pipes up. "they have a bit of your flavor."

"what the hell does that even mean?" you give him a weird look, waiting for him to elaborate. out of the corner of hit eye you see taehyun smile lazily at overhearing the early morning conversation. "god wait, i didn't mean it like that! im still half asleep for fucks sake," he raised his hands up and waves them.  "im going back to sleep," he announces.

as he starts sauntering off back to the room you detach from taehyun who seems to be almost done. "im still kind of tired too... come join when you're done," you give him a chaste kiss as you walk away from him.

taehyun sighs to himself as he finishes up the rest of the food.

just another day.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[clairecrive]

"Sunshine" - Sirius Black x reader [Requested]

This is for the anon: Sirius/Remus (You pick) with reader who has problem expressing themselves, so they use stuffed animals? To elaborate they have a dog which is happy, bird which is excited, cat when lazy, frog when sad, owl when tired, and unicorn for confusion? I know it’s complicated, sorry if this was a waste of time, Wish you luck!

A/N: I end up choosing Sirius bc idk it felt more fitting. Hope you like this x

Warnings: nothing, this is pure fluff, maybe language

Word count: 1.4K ish

(let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist)

(not my gif)

"Hey sunshine, I got your frog. What's wrong?" you say when entering the boys' bedroom.

It was just after breakfast so everyone was either hurrying towards their lesson or already in class, leaving the dorms and in general the Gryffindor tower empty.

Well, almost empty considering you and your precious boyfriend were still here.

As a matter of fact, you were on your way to class when Sirius' patronus found you and handed you a frog. Knowing exactly what it meant, you turned around and hurried back down the corridors.

Now, it may sound weird for your boyfriend to send you a frog, out of all the things, but there was a reason. Neither you nor Sirius was very good at reaching out and asking for help when something happened. Since it was something you had in common, you couldn't really blame him. But, after the first month of you dating, it was causing more harm than good and you knew that it was something you needed to work on if this relationship was to go on.

So you talked about it and came up with an alternative system. One that didn't involve words and therefore made reaching out and express your feelings easier. And yes, it involved stuffed animals.  Well, when you were in the same room anyway. You restored to patronus when you were not together.

If anyone thought it weird that both of you started carrying around stuffed animals, they didn't show it. Even if they did though, neither of you would have cared much since this method was actually working and had, in fact, saved your relationship.

It was also a great way to quickly check on each other. Receiving a dog, meant the other was fine, happy even, a bird would mean that something exciting had happened or the other had exciting news to share, But a frog, not that was something you dreaded receiving.

It was bad news. It meant that something happened and the other needed comfort or at the very least for their significant other to be there for them.

Hence the reason you almost ran to Sirius, doing your best to skip the step of the stairs that lead to the boys' dormitory without falling on your face.

Last time you had seen Sirius was yesterday night before heading to bed. You had slept in and therefore missed breakfast. What could have gone wrong in such a short amount of time, you wondered. You just hoped that it wasn't anything gravely serious.

The sight that welcomed you when you finally reached him was disheartening, however.

Sirius was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn't move, nor when he heard your footsteps nor when you spoke. He just held up an open envelope for you to see and nothing else was needed. You knew what had put him in bad mood.

That goddammit psychotic abusive family of his.

Oh, how you hated them.

The idea that someone couldn't see how wonderful Sirius was and not only that but also the fact that they actively went out of their ways to send him hate and harmful letters even when he was far away and had cut any connections with them?

Fucking absurd.

Sighing, you walked to his bed and quickly stepped out of your shoes before lying next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" you almost whispered.

Propping you heard on your hand, you gently moved away some of his curls away from his face. He was still not looking at you but he softly shook his head at your question.

Okay, you thought.

You lowered your hand to his face so that your fingers could start tracing his beautiful face. Leaving a small kiss on his temple, you reached out so that your arm was around him. Your kisses slowly moved all over his face. His other temple first, then his forehead. His nose. His cheeks. When it came to his lips, you stopped and just hovered over them.

Gently turning his face to yours, you waited for his eyes to meet yours before speaking. "They don't know the real you, my love."

If only he could see himself the way you saw him. If only he could see how false his family's words were.

"Everything they say is a blatant lie because they do not know you"- emphasis on not - "because if they did, the would agree with me."

The sadness and the hurt in his eyes were so evident that you had to fought tears back. You knew that this was something he had to face on his own and that your words were just that - words. Almost useless. But you had to do something and if there was even the tiniest chance that he'd actually listen to you then you'd try anyway.

"And you know what I think?" you smiled softly at him, your fingers trailing over his bottom lip, "I think that you're amazing. Precious even."

You were sure this was going to come back to bite you in the ass when he was feeling better. Merlin knows how Sirius' ego doesn't need to be stroked. At least, in public, that's how he behaved. But you knew him. You were lucky enough that he had let you in and showed you this side of him that no one knew existed outside his close circle.

He didn't say anything but his eyes didn't move from yours so you took it as a sign to keep going.

"There's no one out there who is so effortlessly brilliant like you are, my love." Leaning back a little from his face, you put some space between you after leaving the smallest of kisses on his lips."And I know for a fact that there is no one out there who cares about others like you do." Emphasizing with your eyes the "no one" part, you were able to coax the faintest of smiles for him.

You had noticed that your weird facial expressions amused him and apparently they worked in these situations too.

"Do you know why I call you sunshine?" You continued, a smile still on your face but your tone more solemn. You had a feeling that it was something he had wondered about since the most obvious choice would have been finding a nickname related to stars. And you knew how much Sirius was interested and fascinated by them.

"Yes, you're named after a star but I don't think it really matches your personality. See? Another proof that they don't know you at all." You lean back to sit on your feet.

"People don't notice stars unless they look up at the sky." Taking one of his hands in yours, you start playing with his fingers. "But you, my love? It would be impossible not to notice you, Sirius." Leaving a kiss on his palm, you intertwine your fingers and hold his hand close to your chest right where your heart is.

"You shine bright like the sun, making everyone around you aware of your presence. And yes, sometimes it can be annoying, but you know what?" At this, his smile grew a little knowing that what you were saying was more than true. Everyone knew that Sirius could also be spelt annoying on most days, especially during class. He got bored easily since he didn't need to study as much as everyone else to understand a concept. Thus, making it his mission to make someone do something with him that isn't studying.

"Everyone misses the sun when it's gone and never tire of it when it's there." Squeezing the hand you were holding, you hoped to have helped a little. Maybe you did, or maybe you didn't but all your efforts were rewarded when Sirius smiled at you. This time he gave you a real smile. As a consequence, yours got bigger.

Letting his hand go, you cradled his face in your hands and gently pulled him to you until your noses were touching. His hands, in turn, moved on your hips and used them to pull you to him as well so that you were now straddling him.

"Come here, you big sap." And pulled you even closer to him so that his face was now in the crook of your neck, his breath tickled your skin. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders in a tight embrace. Oh, how much you loved this boy.

"Only for you, my sunshine."

[loversarcanas]

I’d love to hear about your au!

WEHEHEHE rubs my gay little hands together im so glad you sent this ask thank you <333

im gonna put it under a read more bc it's A Lot of words and I don't wanna down anyone out

tldr: sashanne valentines day and resurrecting the romantic art of burning cds for the one that you love <3

it's the week of vday st school and everyone is buying valentines for others and stuff and anne, ever the romantic, daydreams about one day someone giving her a real valentine (the girls give each other friendship chocolates every year or smth like that) and sasha's like 'hmm maybe I'll give her a valentine from a fake secret admirer so that she can feel good about vday - also this definitely won't awaken any dormant feelings I have about her or anything'

so she goes to marcy with this idea, and since marcy and sasha have both dated people and know how badly anne wants that she's ALL for it. and they plan to get her like one of the carnations that are sold at school but think 'yknow annde deserves more effort than JUST that" so they come up with an idea for a mix tape/cd bc 1. it's unique and 2. anne LOVES music and would think it's the most romantic gesture EVER. and since marcy is a big gamer she has a cd drive on her computer at home and they pick up a pack of blank cds and get to work

the first cd it's really just some basic pop punk romance songs that would throw anne off their trail and would seem like something a random guy would put on a playlist for a girl he liked, and sasha slides the cd in anne's locker after cheer practice (after anne and marcy have gone home) so she opens her locker the next day to find the cd and a note taped to it from the 'secret admirer' and anne is just. BUBBLING with joy, she's never gotten a valentine before and it's something that she's ALWAYS wanted, she's practically JUMPING for joy. and there's this warm feeling in sasha's chest watching anne like this, a kind of warmth that she never got when so many other kids in the school gave her valentines, and it makes her want to do it again

so she makes another one, writes another note, maybe tapes a herseys kiss to this one. she puts more heart into the songs she picks, tailors it slightly more to what kind of music anne likes (not enough to make it an obvious change though), and drops it in her locker again when she's not there

marcy, while sasha is at her house, questions how long she's going to do this for - because she doesn't want anne to feel strung along by a secret admirer who doesn't even exist. sasha tells her she'll only do it until valentines day, so for the rest of the week - reassures her there's nothing to worry about. in the meantime she's sitting with these feelings she's realizing she's had for anne for a while now - and that it's definitely the reason she wants to keep going. she has this deep urge to spoil anne and wants to keep seeing her happy like this, see anne smile BECAUSE of her... not that she can admit that out loud to anyone. if she told marcy, she knows marcy will try to play matchmaker and potentially reveal what sasha is feeling before she's ready. and she isn't close enough to any of her other school friends to trust them not to tell - plus being the popular head cheerleader means that if word slipped out, rumours would spread like a wildfire she couldn't contain.

however her plans fall short two days before valentines day, when anne confronts her - saying another cheer member told her she saw sasha putting the last cd in her locker. sasha has no choice to come clean and tell her that she did it so anne wouldn't feel left out on vday. which anne is still hurt by, saying how much worse it hurts having this false hope that someone would go through all this for her, and then realize it was all just an elaborate prank - and tells her that she's especially upset that it was sashs's doing and walks away, refuses to talk to her for the rest of the day.

so when sasha goes home, she breaks down. realizes she made a fatal mistake. even when her intentions are good, her execution just manages to hurt her. so she does the only thing she can think to do in that moment - her words failed, so music will speak for her

the next day, there's an envelope in the boonchuys mailbox with anne's name on it - a single cd with a single song on it. when anne plays it, the sound that comes through isn't any popular musician or band, but rather sasha's voice - her singing a song she wrote herself, accompanied by guitar. a love song that outlines her feelings for anne and her apologies for leading her astray, that she was a coward and hid behind the facade because she was too afraid to face anne with her feelings, or even gave these feelings herself.

the note was signed 'your not-so-secret admirer' and that's when everything clicks

so anne goes to sashas house and knocks on her door, asking to come in and talk

they sit on sasha's bed in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before annd speaks up, asking if she really meant all that, to which sasha tells her yeah, she did. she originally started this because she didn't want anne to feel left out again, but the reaction she got from anne made her want to keep doing it. and before she realized, she was encountering feelings she wasn't prepared to deal with, and that she truthfully didn't even know what would happen if she did come forward with them

and anne tells her that the reason she was so hurt that it was sasha pulling the prank, was that she wanted it to be real instead of a joke. and of course sasha is like "well.... it is real, so you don't have to worry about that"

they're both flustered and anxious and can't even look at each other, but sasha bites the bullet and nervously asks anne to be her valentine tomorrow, and anne responds by grasping her hand, still not looking at sasha, and nodding with an "i-i'd like that" (we love parallel moments)

and finally, valentines day arrives, and for the first time anne gets her dream fulfilled- she gets a real true valentine and her first date with sasha, who decidedly pulls out all the stops on their date (to as much of an extent that one can do in middle school) and anne still keeps all those cds after <3