#support hello???? words of encouragement????? im so fucking confused actually

[chiyoso]

im mclosing it™ at the like to reblogs ratio

like CMONNN did it make u horny? did u feel good? did you like my choice of words? was it satisfactory? did you enjoy it even without being horny? WHERE ARE YOUR THOUGHTS

this is MADDENING

not because of the likes/reblogs ratio im receiving, maybe because smut is so much more anticipated, but because other writers put up with this shit too 💀

[laooneart]

Hello merry Christmas people i am here today because i will be headcanon-ing Harringrove love languages

Lets go

Steve:

obviously gift giving You cannot tell me he doesn’t love giving Billy gifts, even if it’s literally just a flower he found on his garden

Physical touch This man can’t keep his hands to himself, he needs to feel the heat of another body, I also headcanon that he hates being alone cuz he definitely has PTSD due to all the shit that he’s been through since season one

Acts of service Try to deny that this boy is willing to do whatever it takes to keep you happy/help you/keep you safe, even if it could be extremely dangerous for his life as we’ve seen how he’s so protective. I’d imagine that when he finds out what Neil has been doing to Billy he’d go livid, like straight up would beat the shit out of him if he sees him lay a hand on Billy, he wouldn’t care if Neil is stronger and bigger. (You know what? As soon as i get my laptop imma write that into a fic)

Words of affirmation My baby doesn’t get any words of encouragement/affirmation or validation and his self esteem is nonexistent since the Halloween party in season two. So I can see Steve actually crying without even noticing when Billy says something like “Holy shit Harrington! You’re a genius!” “I hate to admit it, but you’re not that bad at fighting” “You might just have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen holy shit” (this last one is the one that breaks him)

He’s just not used to being loved, and I’m actually livid about it

Gift receiving He never gets gifts, period. Who would give him a gift? Nancy? No that’d be awkward for both. His parents? What a joke, probably not even a letter or call to check up on him, sure they send him money because they’re not about to leave their child without some sort of support cuz you know, Hopper would be on their asses about it since that’d be like child negligence. So when Billy gets him something,(a flower a letter even a goddamn cassette made BY HIM) Steve can’t help but be

A. Confused af

B.More in love than he already is

C. Overwhelmed and starts to cry

D. All of the above

Billy:

Acts of service Billy won’t normally say anything sweet like Steve would or wouldn’t start the physical touch kind of love, so he sticks to SHOWING how much he loves or cares for Steve. Also im sure since Steve is willing to move heaven and Earth for Billy, Billy is willing to destroy the world for Steve (you’ve seen those texts where they say that a hero would sacrifice you to save the world and a villain would sacrifice the world for you? Yup, that’s Billy)

Quality time Let’s be honest, he finds EVERY excuse on the book to get away from his father and problems, so i imagine he’d constantly go to Steve’s house just to talk/smoke/ or do what fucking ever

Physical touch Listen listen, i know i said Billy isn’t the type to start physical touch but when already engaged in it he’ll continue it. Like Steve brushes his hand against Billy’s? He’ll grab his hand and intertwine their fingers or Steve will start cuddling him and Billy will start stroking Steve’s hair or something

Words of affirmation He has a higher self esteem than Steve but since he normally doesn’t hear anything related to love receiving whenever Steve tells him: “I love you” “You’re amazing” “How did i get so lucky to have meet you?” ,Billy would just go “Oh”

And that would be it! Thanks so much for reading this and I’d love to hear what you guys think about this, any suggestions? Feedback? Send em right up!

Merry Christmas and happy New Year loves!

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

Hold my hand

Prompt used - holding hands

The door bell rang over and over again indicating whoever it was at the door was impatient enough to not even let harry cross the hallway properly.

" IM COMING. For fucks sake " harry yelled as he shoved ice cream into the fridge and running towards the door but the doorbell hadn't ceased.

" Merlin's sake what is - draco ?" Harry gave draco a confused look but draco had already made himself comfortable to roll his eyes and just barge in without saying a word to harry.

" what are you doing here ?" Harry asked as he followed draco into the bedroom.

" mer- just tell me what are you doing - why are you taking out my clothes ? Draco tell me what's going on right now !" Harry announced

Draco turned around carrying 2 pair of sweater, a jacket and a jeans with socks "hello to you too and we're going out " draco shoved all the clothes he had managed to take out into Harry's hands.

" no draco, I'm not but you are going out of my house " harry said as he dropped the clothes on the bed.

" harry if you're a stubborn man so man I , deal with it. Were going out, get dressed " draco ordered.

" yes you are-"

" no I'm not-"

" no-"

" yes potter. Shut up " draco shoved the clothes into Harry's hand again.

" what makes you think I want to go out ?" Harry asked as he dropped the clothes on the bed yet again and crossed his arms.

" because I'm saying so. Now get over your sulking ass we're going " Draco ordered

" draco I don't want to okay - I know you guys think I'm still sulking over Ginny but I'm not. I respected her decision and it's fine " harry said as he walked out of the room and into the kitchen with draco following him.

" you are. Look at the fucking amount of ice cream in your fridge -"

" stop snooping around " harry bellowed as he shut the fridges door on draco's face.

" potter look I don't care but your friends does. I know breaking up with Ginny was a hard thing but get over it. It's been months. Hell even she's worried about you. You haven't been out with your friend's much and they care for you okay " draco told him as he sat down at the kitchen isle watching harry shove things angrily into drawers . It was a partial lie , out of everyone draco was the one who cared the most but his ego was inflated enough to not give in yet .

" and you don't care ?" Harry's movements came to a halt just for a second before it began again as if he was making sure he heard him right

" I - it doesn't matter. I'm here now and look- there's a great place i want to take you . You'll have fun I promise. Five minutes in and you don't enjoy yourself I'll watch that horror movie with you as a torture for me okay. It's really been months since anyone Hung with you last and I'll win the bet of making you get out of the house. I could use some money " draco tried to diffuse the tension with his stupid joke

" well Draco I'd suggest you take your money back because you'll lose and don't you all have better things to do than bet over me " harry said as now he got out of the kitchen and entered the living room and started fluffing the pillows. Draco followed him and redid the pillows himself with harry glaring at him.

" well once the malfoy's bet, they don't back out. Harry just one night. If you don't enjoy I'll do that -"

" I heard you and as appealing as your offer is I won't " harry replied but before harry could've picked up next pillow he was turned around with a jerk and now faced draco.

" one time , one night harry. You know I won't offer such thing ever again. I'll even buy you that expensive Chocolate cake you like so much and on our way back I'll buy you ice creams. Just one night . One time " draco basically begged harry and with so much of a sigh, he gave in.

" where are we going then ?" Harry asked . Draco jumped up in excitement which only for a moment harry found endearing before draco collected himself and spoke " its a surprise but dress in warm clothes " harry with an eyeroll went inside and got ready.

15 minutes later harry and draco apparated to the ice skating rink, Hermione and Ron with pansy and Blaise were already waiting there.

" kids, hand over the money " draco said as he clapped his hands

" I thought you were kidding " harry mumbled rubbing his hands together, already feeling the cold starting to set on him. As if Draco had noticed harry getting cold, he swiftly casted a warming spell, much to Harry's suprise but whispered a small thanks.

" don't tell me you bribed him with sex " Blaise groaned as he handed over draco the money. Blush spread over draco's cheeks but harry just assumed it was because they were here.

" as exceptional as that offer would be for you, not everyone is like that Blaise. Some people get easily bribed with ice creams " draco explained shoving the money in his pocket

" who's idea was this ?" Harry asked finally

" mine " draco replied grinning

" wow fancy seeing you using your exceptionally dim witted brain for once " harry sarcastically replied. Draco rolled his eyes while everyone enjoyed that sarcastic harry was back.

Soon enough they had put on skates and almost all of them were going in the rink but draco.

" you're not coming !?" Harry asked simply as he stood without support

" no- what - no yeah - yeah I just need uh some time " draco's face looked almost pale. Harry watched Draco for a moment, analysing his expressions when he realised

" oh my god, you don't know how to do this, do you !! Draco " harry cackled at Draco

" it's not easy okay " draco sneered at him

" it's still hilarious " harry laughed harder

" easy for you to say potter , fucking great at everything " draco sneered at him. It took them a moment to realise that draco had used the same tone from years ago. They both chuckled at the recollection of the forgotten memories.

" I'll help you but you're still going to buy me more ice cream" harry said as he offered his hand to draco. Hesitantly draco took Harry's hand clutched it tight and stood up next to harry .

" draco you're crushing my fingers " harry whined

" well you signed up for this harry " draco snapped lightly but loosened his grip on Harry's hand and finally got into the rink.

" let me lead the way okay. Don't leave my hand alright. Stop spreading your legs " harry guided him slowly in the rink

" wow so illuminating. If this was some other circumstances I'm sure you would've said the opposite " Draco rolled his eyes. Harry blushed out of embarrassment maybe or the fact that it may have been true but the strange reaction on Harry's face made him retract his statement " I'm spending a lot of time with Blaise. You can understand " and harry nodded understandably.

" try not to - no don't move your feet that way - yes closer - perfect " when Draco finally got the hang of how the legs work he finally left the boundaries and they moved a little to the center.

" now, shall I leave your hand-"

" no " draco shouted

" for someone who I'm teaching, you sure are bossy " harry rolled his eyes

" and you knew this about me when you become friend's with me so technically you're at fault harry " draco beamed. Harry shook his head smiling because it was true.

" you have to try to- okay you're slowly going to leave my hand and you'll take a slide forward. I'll be right by your side okay- you can do it okay " harry assured draco. Draco looked at him with fearful eyes but nodded and slowly harry left draco's hand. When harry had completely left draco's hand and draco was standing on his own, harry clapped his hands in encouragement . Draco looked up for a moment, his arms spread out in air for invisible boundaries to hold onto but he was still afraid. He almost took a step forward when his leg slipped a little to the right

" HARRY, HOLD MY HAND " he shrieked but it was too late, he had already grabbed Harry's hand and had completely slipped over the ground . Harry was now laying on top of draco cackling who himself was laughing incredibly hard .

" you're blocking my air potter " draco laughed at harry . Harry immediately rolled over to the floor next to him and waited for the laughter to die out.

" look at these Little babies laughing at their miseries " pansy commented as she swiftly passed by harry and draco but they didn't stop laughing.

It was 5 minutes later when their laugh slowly died out and now were just simply smiling at each other.

" you had take me down with you " harry narrowed his eyes in a comical way.

" well potter if you must know , malfoy's don't take the fall alone. They take everyone down with them " draco smiled at harry . Harry shook his head and stared up at the ceiling of the rink when harry finally sat up and pulled draco up to sit with him.

" come on , we'll try again " harry said as he finally with much difficulty stood up

" oh no I'm fine potter. I'd much rather slide on the floor like Weasley than actually doing it again " Draco looked up at him . Harry looked behind him to see Hermione practically dragging Ron. Harry shook at the absurdity of his two friends in love. He turned around to see Draco watching him.

" last try. Come on , It was your idea and malfoy's don't give up do they " harry raised an eyebrow knowingly. Draco rolled his eyes but with Harry's help finally stood up too.

" you're never using the malfoy's line on me ever again " draco said as he dusted off the snow from his clothes.

" I will if I have to. Now let's try again" harry said and draco nodded.

When harry noticed draco's hesitation, he lifted draco's face by his chin to look up at his face

" don't you trust me . Now . Hold my hand " harry again offered his hand and this time Draco took it without hesitation and slowly they started skating again.

" I can't believe you suggested all of them something you're terrible at " harry deemed

" well harry sometimes you gotta do shit for people who matter to you, don't you. At least it got you out of the house and you seem to be enjoying it so much considering you laughed so hard when we fell down, so I'll say it's all worth it. Now tell me how do you keep the balance- what - why are you looking at me like that? " Draco asked him furrowing his eyebrows.

" no reason " harry replied fondly with a warm smile.

" I tell you draco, I don't know about malfoy's but draco is a very nice friend. Now look how I do this " harry said as he pointed his feets on the ice

" draco- you're not doing it - draco - look - dr-what ?" Harry asked when he noticed draco was smiling sadly at harry

" no reason " he blinked and watched how harry did it, smile spreading across his face.

Harry and Draco were the last ones to leave the rink after some fail attempts of teaching draco but slowly with practice draco did get the hang of it . Both of them were overjoyed when he did it.

As promised draco bought harry ice cream on his way back to his house. That night draco stayed at Harry's place talking about everything and nothing all at once. When Draco had finally dozed off, harry realised it was 3 in the morning. It was the first time ever since Ginny when time passed unknowningly. Harry fondly looked at the sleeping figure on his shoulder and smiled with appreciation.

That night when the same flutter returned in Harry's heart which made it skip a beat, he decided this time he won't fuck it up. He realised that maybe, just maybe love can also be found in another person. And that person was none other than the annoying draco malfoy.

" stupid git " harry smiled at Draco and soon enough, too fell asleep on the couch with draco.

Recent side prompts -

Habits of my heart | hair dyes and braids

Day 6 - pinned | Day 8 - Ms.mitons

Requests open

[words-for-holland]

Your Shoulder to Cry On

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N has been feeling down all day and Tom wants her to know that he’ll always be here for her.

Maybe it was just one of those Mondays, but today just seemed like the worst ones Y/N has ever experienced. Truthfully she didnt know how it happened. She was having a great morning, waking up in Tom’s arms, giving him his daily dose of kisses before he left to film, and actually getting her work done with time to spare.

But there was definitely a change in the wind that day and it all started with a...

Ding

With all the free time Y/N had she couldnt help but check her phone, guessing it was either Tom or her parents checking up on her, or maybe her hometown friends who are updating her on what’s going on with their new found adult life.

It was her friends all right...but the conversation was far from friendly. Arguments ensued from her three friends coming after each others neck and of course pulling..no...dragging Y/N unwilling into it. While she said no words, as she tried to find the best way to relieve the tension it was too late. Her good day had become the shittiest day of the week...and its only just begun.

Now abandoning her work, Y/N waits for her boyfriend to come home as she mindlessly scrolls through Instagram, only to see a notification pop up on her phone. Assuming it was another nasty text from her friends, she was much surprised to be welcomed a picture of her and Tom on her feed with a caption saying...

“Cant wait to see my girl after work. It’s been a long day 😫.”

If anything made Y/N smile at all today it was Tom. In some weird way its like he knew how she felt without even telling or seeing him. He was her rock after all and if there was anyone she could count on to make her smile in the least it was Tom. Just on cue, he called her right after.

“Hello darling.” He greets sleepily.

“Hey babe.” Y/N responded quietly.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm. Oh..yeah just fine.” She lies, hoping not to worry him too much.

“Darling, I can tell you’re not. You dont sound like yourself. Ill be home soon okay? Tell me all about it?”

Y/N nodded as she whispered, “Yeah.”

“Okay..I love you so much. Ill be home soon.”

“I love you too.” She croaks.

Just like that Tom was home in record time, but not without capturing a few things to cheer his girl up. He welcomed her with freshly baked cookies from her favorite cookie shop, and nothing was better than food from her favorite Italian spot. Tom placed the food on the counter as he searched for his girl.

“Love, Im home.” He called out. “Are you okay, darling?”

Y/N popped in the hallway as she ran straight into his arms, not saying a word but holding onto him as if she would lose him.

“Hey..hey. Whats wrong?” He asked in his soothing voice.

“Lots of drama.” She mumbled. “I love you but you didnt have to go through buying all this. I could have cooked for us.”

Tom pulled away from her, giving the look confusion and disapproval. “Cooked for us while you’re clearly upset? Thats absolute bullocks. We’re gonna eat all this food because we can and then youre gonna vent everything out and then.. Im gonna hold you in my arms and coax you to sleep so you can relax and have a shoulder to cry on.”

Y/N smiled at the gesture already wraaping her arms around him, shedding a slight tear at how he would always be here for her. “I love you so much Tom.”

“I do too. Now tell me what’s wrong, darling.”

So Y/N did tell him everything from what happened with her friends and how the unecessary pile of work came up on her, and all the insecurities that have just risen out throughout the whole day. She was on his lap as they cuddled into the sofa. Showing her phone, he reads the last remaining texts from the conversation.

“I’m unfollowing y’all on everything and i am not answering another text just thought i would throw how crazy that is, out there. So at this point i’m done. forget it y’all can chill i’m out:) ”

“Wow.” He said, taking a moment to process what happened. “She really meant it, didnt she?”

Y/N nodded as she put her phone away. “Yeah and now Im just in the middle because I dont know what to do or who to support. Our whole friendship is breaking apart and I just dont want to lose any of them.” She cries silently, occaionally bring up the sleeves of Tom’s hoodie to wipe her nose and eyes.

“Hey, look its not your fault you were just trying to help. I know you guys have been friends for so long and Im sure that this is just a small bump and all four of you will get together and this will all be put past behind you.” Tom encourages as he tucks a small piece of her hair behind her ear, leans in for a comforting kiss on her forehead. “Darling, I know how much you wanted to fix things between your friends but it’s not your fault. This isnt yours to fix you just need to give it some time yeah? Even if your friends dont stick around thats on them, but just know I will always be here for you. Ill be your shoulder to cry on, and I sure as hell wont leave or unfollow you.” He chuckles at the situation, wiping away her tear stained cheeks.

“Haha how funny.” She sniffles and smiles at Tom’s corny attempt to make a joke of the situation like he always does.

“See theres that smile, Ive been waiting all day to see. I just can’t get enough of it.” Tom compliments. “That smile should stay there for good. Fuck anyone or anything that tries to take it away for you.”

“Thank you Tommy.” Y/N says sweetly, leaning in and pressing her lips against Tom’s.

Tom smiles back into the kiss gently cradling the back of her head. “Anytime darling. Now let’s see if there are other ways to make you feel better.” He winked as he carried her up to their room.

[simptasia]

Fo the ship ask meme - Charladay + 2, 4, 23, 27, 36, 38, 39

thank you!! :D

How’s their team work? Do they share well?

oh excellent teamwork, very good, dan takes instructions very well [snort]

and yeah sure why not

First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

well, no, not ~love~ at first sight but they defo both looked at each other for a prolonged amount of time. both finding themselves curious, strangely fascinated. one of charlotte’s thoughts was that he looks... sad and little lost

and dan’s thoughts were, less words, more !!!, oh and some “is,,, is she looking at me?” [looks around to check] “???”

How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

hug: tight, sometimes they hug in manner like they think they won’t get another hug. also dan is more Hands than man, really

kiss: soft soft pet pet WHOA PASSION HELLO CHARLOTTE. dan holds char’s face with his hands when he kisses and it’s soft sweet kisses and char will often be the one to make ‘em deeper. pull dan real close to her, maybe pin him to something. depends on the mood~ like, not always, char isn’t always ravenous jhajhsa she does do gentle and romantic too,, im just. talking o///o

tease: char’s teasing is more the cheeky playful “yeah i have the power to suddenly turn you on and im gonna use it” variety. hand on the thigh. whispers in the ear. footsie. asking him to join her in the shower in a sultry voice. hm, maybe im not so great at teasing because this is outright seduction ahudsajh

as for dan, mayhaps he takes his time savouring char’s body. maybe a frustrated whine from char inspires him to draw out the touches and caresses even longer until she’s panting and Strongly Insisting he stop teasing her :)))

don’t underestimate dan, he’ll surprise ya

flirt: i imagine char is quite flirtatious given the right context and motivation. having a boyfriend who blushes so easily and prettily is pretty good motivation. she’s makes it clear what she wants, she’s a pretty proactive person. meanwhile dan is less likely to flirt, he’s more of a “i worship at the temple of you” kinda guy. full of adoring looks and of course he’s tendency towards petting

comfort: oh hey you brought this up in a recent thing u reblogged; dan is a “hey hey whoa” kinda person. gentle words, hand on the shoulder. saying things are gonna be okay. and char, she leans towards words of affirmation. support and encouragement, like hey, you can do this, i believe in you. dan and char have repeatedly comforted each other in canon so that helps

Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

yes, yes, fuck no

4 kids to be exact. penny, ada, marie and isaac. bunch of creative and intellectual geniuses, the lot of ‘em (”will you two keep your hands off each other already? you keep making nerds” miles says after marie shows him her book of haikus at the age of fucking five)

grow old, well they COULD move on at any time but it’s MY indulgent OTP fantasy and i’m driving the bus, damn it. and on that note, they’d never split up, they were already torn apart by death, they are never letting go of each other. heck, when dan and char first hugged after they remember, dan held her for a reaaally long time and started crying. no, they’d never split up

What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

i think they compliment each other very well. they’re very different in temperament but not so different that it’s annoying. they also have so much respect for each other. and they can listen to each other talk for hoooours

weakness... well maybe if you two were open about ur feelings sooner, you could have gotten a little kissy, eh? sigh their weakness is bad timing. like on their own they have their own issues, but together their relationship would be strong... feels good, feels organic

What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

in a word? fantastic. in two words? noise complaints. char is LOUD

but yeah what they’re like, well im gonna have to use that word i love so much, passionate. they’re real passionate. love making, fucking, what have you. char,,, well, char isn’t what you’d call subtle, and dan is overwhelmed and reverent, touching her and looking at her with a downright sense of awe. oh and naturally char is way more prone to using her words than dan, even if once things get really going it’s less structured sentences and more horny babbling

[nature docu narrator voice] the daniel faraday is a submissive creature and spends 90% of his sexual experiences underneath his lover

needless to say, char is the more dominant lover. girl’s gotta have strong thighs because she is gonna be on top a loooot. this is Ideal for both of ‘em

i could go on but basically These Nerds Fuck Each Other Like Champions

now kinks, etc:

char = she’s dominant in bed overall but she’s into it more than just that; being a dom is nice hobby she has. she’s got a chest at the end of the bed for her toys and other sexy tools. she loves control, and well, dan will do Anything she says (to the point where she had to stop and have a serious talk with him letting him know, hey i don’t wanna actually make you do anything you don’t wanna do, if you don’t like something, you have to tell me). and yeah basically a lot of kinks assoicated with that sort of behaviour. causing pain, being worshipped, edging, overstim, pegging, tying her lover up, etc and so forth. also dirty talk, lots and lots of dirty talk

dan = i started off having dan really like char’s hair and thats evolved into a fetish over time. he’s not Weird about it, but he Really likes it. being told what to do, specifically charlotte telling him what to do. and if i haven’t make it clear already that he’s worshipful of her, well,,,, can a person be a fetish? cuz at this point dan has a Charlotte Fetish dajkdsakjds. he’s not really a kinky person but char makes him feel lotsa confusing new things. oh and i’ve given him this thing i call pressure kink, basically sexual enjoyment of having physical pressure on you. like somebody laying their full weight on you. or a hug that would be way too tight by socially acceptable standards. or the classic, being tied up

besides their own turn ons, they’re also willing to experiment. char is kinky and dan is relatively vanilla but will try new things. he’s learnt so much from her (and miles), like most of the stuff they’re into, he hadn’t even heard of before

what won’t they do:

okay out of the way, eliminate that Really Gross Thing. you know. if you don’t, well i’m not writing it while dan and char are in my head, so moving on

as much as char is into it, dan draws a hard line at being in pain. when he saw how much char and miles like to do that sort of stuff with each other, he started to feel worried because he really doesn’t wanna be hurt. but char is like, ya know, a good person so she respects that and won’t hurt her sweet boy

also for the love of fuck, don’t pull on daniel’s hair. i know that can filed under Don’t Hurt Him but i’m putting special emphasis on it because he’s autistic and he will cry and in a bad way. it’s a guaranteed way to make his dick peace out

as for char, besides what i mentioned up top, there isn’t much char won’t do or at least isn’t willing to try out at least once. oh and while she will hurt, she’s not gonna like... mutilate. ugh

also one time char was on her period and they got intimate, and dan, being inclined to use his mouth down there, Licked A Drop. not out of his own desire to do so, he just thought it was the right thing to do. and char was equals ways stunned, horrified and disgusted. (and miles straight up had a freak out, calling dan a sick fuck, etc. dan was like ???) so yeah, thats a no go for her. period sex? yes. but keep your damn mouth away from there, thats icky

Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first?  When did they realize they were in love?

i think char’s the one who’s gonna ask dan out first. and kiss him first (limbo char is making up for lost fucking time, my dude)

oh sometime on the boat, for sure. i think dan was in love with char after knowing her a week. char i’d give her 1 or 2 more weeks on top of that. they both decided to keep it to themselves out of a mix of insecurity and guilt

thank you for your time!

[webcricket]

Castiel Drabbles

Characters: CastielXDemon!Reader

Bat Out of Hell Lyric Prompt: #17 - “You’ve been nothing but an angel every day of your life, and now you wonder what it’s like to be damned.”

Word Count: 1362

Requested by: @ladyofletters67

Summary: The reader uses a bit of veracity and sass to vie for an angel’s affection.

<<<   >>>

Over the years, trial after trauma after countless trial compounding into a constant uncontrolled free fall toward humanity’s cause, everything Castiel thought he knew for fact dissolved into mere fiction perpetrated by his Father in a plot seemingly created solely for the entertainment of that self-same Creator.

Everything, that is, except one universal tenet of reckoning arising over and over no matter the situation: Everything comes at a cost. Nothing in life is free, least of all that will he fought fist and wing and wit whilst falling to embrace.

Which accounts for his stubborn suspicion about your motives in helping the Winchesters - not coming to their aid on one or two occasions, but rising from the fires of Hell whenever they get stuck in a rut, and just as often availing your support even when they aren’t. After all, demons don’t take day trips out of the pell-mell of perdition to offer assistance unless they want something in return.

The what is what the seraph cannot figure out. What has him both dubious and intrigued in such a manner he can’t keep his thoughts, idle or otherwise, from wandering to you and the conflict of emotion - a push and pull dance between light and dark, divinity and doom, a cosmic waltz that leaves him dizzy - he feels every time he’s in your presence.

It’s what has him summoning you for interrogation to a generically furnished motel room off the I-90 with Sam and Dean well out of the way - generic save for the addition of a demon trap fastidiously spray painted in crimson on the carpet and for which Castiel’s, or rather, Jimmy Novak’s credit card will be docked for damages after he checks out and housekeeping discovers the disturbing decor.

You’ve dodged his queries before by disappearing - an action usually preceded by a flirtatious fluttering pink smirk and a suggestive wink. The trap guarantees you won’t get away without clearing up his confusion.

You manifest in an onyx-eyed akimbo-stance huff cursing the rudeness of your summoner when they could have simply picked up the phone and called because, ‘Hello! It’s not the dark ages.’

The dissatisfied murmur ceases, a smile spreading your lips to flash the pearly whites veiled beneath when you see the angel is the source of your involuntary vexation because this particular angel intrigues you as much, if not more, than you intrigue him.

Sure, when you first sauntered into the Winchester’s wheel house uninvited it was with the idea of indebting them to you in return for some future favor; but when you laid eyes on their ally, you got a glimpse of actual glory, and although your mortal soul be damned beyond saving, all else fled your thoughts save a taste for a different type of seraphim-assisted salvation.

If he doesn’t recognize your interest - nay, overt attraction - yet through that thickly righteous skull housing his celestial grey matter, all it means is that you need to keep knock-knock-knocking at Heaven’s door a little longer and, perhaps, a little louder.

“Angelcake, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You move a step and a half in his direction, stopping short at the outer line of the circle.

The seraph didn’t doubt the tried and true tactic would hold you, but still, his chest swells with a sense of satisfaction in seeing you at his mercy. Studying your face in anticipation of a frown emerging thereon, a surprising observation surfaces from his subconscious to tickle his rational fancy that the bedlam of twisted soul behind those inky irises, a creature unrecognizable as a human anymore, appears to him as a chaos of stormy hues not sinister in disorder, but as compelling as the shifting colors of a sunset so stunning one cannot look away from it.

The thought, twitching his upper lip, tests his stolid facade.

You peer up in time to catch the subtle crack in his stoicism. Defiant of how he thinks you’ll react, your smile widens, stretching up at one corner in sultry reach toward an equally grinning gaze. “If you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask.”

“What? I-” A squint dims the vibrant blaze of his blues; the lids flare after a second or two in sudden understanding of your debauched implication- “no, that’s not-”

“You really don’t know, do you? You angelic ass.” Smile and patience summarily fading, you interrupt a train of verbalized thought definitely not traveling to the destination you desire. If you stuck a Post-It note to your forehead that read, ‘Fuck me!’ in block letters you couldn’t be any more obvious; not that the feeling is strictly physical for you, that’s just the superficial iceberg of a much deeper emotion.

The hot white neon radiance of raggedly feathered wings stacked over his shoulders - clear as day to your demonic second sight - shudder in revolt of the accusation. “What are you talking about?”

Evidently he needs you to spell it out for him like a prophet writing on a wall; God’s team never did fair well without a playbook. But the problem here isn’t him knowing - that ruffling of feathers tells you on some level, he knows enough to rile him - it’s one of doubt. The problem with him is always freaking doubt. Doubt, like everything, exists in balance; the other side of fear is bravery.

You’ve witnessed first hand he isn’t lacking for courage in other areas, you just need to lube the cogs of the celestial machine enough to loosen them in your favor. “I see the way you look at me, Castiel. The way you don’t look away.”

The continued intensity of his stare and shiver of plumes scream out the truth skimmed by the statement; and yet, his tongue wields incongruous words. “I look because you’re an abomination and it’s my duty not to turn a blind eye.”

“Pshaw, duty,” you blow a puff of disenchanted air through pursed lips. Toeing the very edge of the sigil until your chest tightens in a crush of ribs, you steal a couple of extra millimeters of pain-stifled space in order to drive the point home as close to its heavenly host as possible. “An abomination according to who? You, Castiel?”

The query jars him into motion and the guilty realization you aren’t off base in asking about his assumption gravitates him nearer; demons are a species he thought he knew, but he thought he knew a lot of other things too and he was wrong. He lifts a palm to lightly press your arm to encourage you to retreat back within bounds and out of suffering, confessing in a penitence-laden lowness of tone, “No. No one.”

You swat at the kindness; wincing, arm breaching the barrier to follow his, your fingers wrap his wrist. Panting at the onslaught of pain, you yank him into the trap with you.

Instinct guides his hands to hook your waist, stabilizing you while you steady your breath.

Your body hums in gratitude for the gesture. Straightening yourself with the leverage of his lapels, peering up, you pierce his glossy blues with a blackly earnest gaze. “So then what do you really think I am? ‘Cause I think you’ve been nothing but an angel every day of your life, and now you wonder what it’s like to be damned.”

Although the interrogation didn’t go exactly to plan - things rarely ever do - your challenge to his foundation clarifies to him what it is you want, not from the Winchesters, but from him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, amid the lies programed as gospel on the day of his making, a once firmly held belief that all demons are abominations buries itself in the ruins of false reason. Reverberating in a swift smash of sweetly soft lips to yours, the truth of what he feels asserts itself in the knee-weakening, grace-revving, loin girding proof of a kiss.

Everything comes at a cost, and once in an epoch, payment is tendered in the love-bridled beating of an angel’s heart for his beautiful abomination.

Castiel tag list:  (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!)    @jeepangel  @sammiesamness  @willowing-love  @roxy-davenport  @blueicevalkyrie   @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11  @thesugargalaxy    @bluetina-blog  @dont-trust-humanity   @honeybeetrash  @bucky-thorin-winchester  @superwholockz   @tistai  @wordstothewisereaders  @gill-ons  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @marisayouass  @stone-met   @castiel-savvy18  @samualmortgrim  @trexrambling  @magnificent-mantle  @kdfrqqg  @xdifsx   @mandilion76  @rockfairy  @peaceloveancolor  @unicorntrooper  @anisolatedship  @itsilvermorny  @aditimukul  @kudosia  @goofynerd-67babylove  @uninspirationalsonglyrics  @gray-avidan  @mishascupcake   @mishapanicmeow   @praisecastielamen  @roseyhxnt  @jessikared97  @let-the-imaginationflow  @warriorqueen1991   @sebastianstanslefteyebrow   @hisnameisboobear  @kristendanwayne  @fuschiarulerinthebluebox  @coolpencilpie  @jenabean75  @luciathewinchestergirl  @morganas-pendragons  @heyitscam99  @fangirl-and-stuff  @selahbela  @realgreglestrade  @splendidcas  @pointlesscasey  @i-larb-spooderman  @thewhiterabbit42  @thelostverse  @castieliswatchingoverme  @beccollie18  @dragonett8  @dixie-chick  @jtownraindancer   @carowinsthings  @passionghost  @ladyofletters67 @futureparent  @gabbie7-11  @myfandomlife-blog  @dreamerkim   @shamelesslydean  @earthtokace  @neaeri  @justanormalangel  @lone-loba  @supernaturalymarvel  @lilrubixx  @wings-and-halo  @thehoneybeecastielfollows  @musiclovinchic93  @81mysteriouslyme  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss  @jaylarkson @pixiedusts  @spookysculderfiles  @laqueus-ludovicus  @missjenniferb @lexininja  @jessiekay2010   @skrratata  @rhiannonj79  @calicat79

[emikvs]

﹤𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙰 𝙺𝙾𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚂𝚄, 𝚂𝙷𝙴 / 𝙷𝙴𝚁, 𝙲𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴﹥; * - hello EMIKO " EMI " SATO. long time no see. i know a lot about you. like how you're TWENTY ONE, how you're a CLASSICS major,  and in fact.. how you LIE AND TELL EVERYONE YOU STUDIED ABROAD FOR A YEAR WHEN YOU WERE ACTUALLY IN REHAB. would be a shame if it got out, wouldn't it ? so let's play a game. 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙴 ?

*itzy vc* hey hey hey ! SDBJWBDJW what’s up......its xan aha ... this is gonna be the biggest mess ever ...just winging it as i go. and u know what ? thats on on brand babey ! lets get it ...TW: drug use/mention, accidents/hospitalization ( just in case)

backstory

virginia born and raised babey ! she’s the youngest of five siblings and ...it shows. SJDBJWBDJW growing up would have been pretty chaotic had it not been for the fact that her dad was a pretty well-respected police officer in their town ! him & her mom were high school sweethearts which made no damn sense to emiko considering they’re still happily married...the concept just seems fake to her </3

while her parents had a lot of  mushy love for each other, when it came to their kids they opted to take a more emotionally distanced kind of parenting style bc they didnt wanna like spoil their kids or anything but.....it wasnt exactly the best plan ! emi and all her siblings just learned to be very good liars JDSBWBDJW as kids with strict parents do

being the youngest emi took a while to get into her rebellious phase. for a while she’d just watch her older siblings sneak out and party and do walks of shame and all that jazz...and while she was always down to help them get out of trouble none of them ever really trusted her ? since she was the baby they figured she’d be the most likely to snitch which just made her really ///: bc she wanted to be included so bad

flash forward to senior year of high school and finally emi’s like . okay fuck this it’s MY turn ! her dad had recently decided to get into politics with some encouragement from the police chief so he was busy with his career and her mom was busy helping him. it was the perfect time to do what she wanted since it was less likely she’d get caught

so she goes to this graduation party.....and it’s BAD like she gets fucked up & carried away so she calls her oldest sister ( who had come back into town for emi’s graduation ) to come pick her up & on the way to get emi from this house party, her sister ends up getting into an accident 

she didn’t die though JSBJDSBBWJDBWJDBJWDW just broke some stuff and ended up needing surgery ): and emi obviously got busted that night by her parents which ... wasnt pretty at all especially bc they low key blamed her for her sister’s accident which just made emi feel like pure shit babey ! 

visiting her sister in the hospital is what kinda sparked her fear of hospitals ! bc emi was like super guilty and paranoid that maybe her sister was gonna die or her surgery would go wrong and she’d essentially be at fault...it was just a lot of anxiety that turned into a genuine phobia of hospitals after that

but her sister made it she was okay and her dad used all the buzz and tragedy around his family to kinda boost his political career....which was ugly. her sister had been prescribed some pretty heavy pain killers for the pain & thats where things got.....messy

emi isnt sure when exactly it started but between the guilt she was harboring over her sister’s accident, the stress from her parents as her dad got further and further into virginia politics as well as college anxiety since she was about to start at the universoty of virginia.....she stole some oxy and thats what started what would be a very messy and tumultuous addiction  

as soon as she started college, emi felt as if some of the weight had been lifted. she was living away from her family for the first time and dorming so she promised herself she’d take these four years to grow and figure out who she is......except that didnt exactly happen. instead of exploring herself in a healthy way, emi was using drugs as a sort of escapism from her “old” self. she’s extremely smart and she loves her major, but her professors would often comment her papers had the energy of a “rambling and troubled mind”. by the time she was about to finish her sophomore year she was getting so high people would find her literally passed out in the dining hall. but no one was that worried bc for a good two years, she was a pretty high functioning addict. 

cue the summer after sophomore year when emi overdoses at a party. she woke up in a private hospital room with only her father sitting on the couch, the look on his face something she’ll never forget. while him and her mother knew exactly what happened to emi, they hadn’t told any of her siblings. or anyone at all, for that matter. instead her dad had informed the university emi would be taking a year off to privately study abroad and told emi that’s what she was going to tell people bc he’d just decided to run for mayor ! he essentially guilt-tripped her into thinking telling people the truth would be a selfish act, and one that would basically ruin the family reputation and make everyone really miserable JSDWDBWBDJW he also tells her she’s gonna be shipped off to rehab ! 

so she goes to rehab for a good seven months. everyone at school thinks she’s studying abroad in italy, and emi is literally just counting the days til she can go back home to her dorm bc she’s lonely !!! in rehab !!! and she gets that she should take it seriously but shes just so mad at her dad and herself and the world too ig ... just some good old fashioned angst ! but she finishes rehab and her dad got elected as mayor of her hometown in virginia and shes like good for u can i go back to school please JSBDWJDBJW and he says yes

so she’s back ! ready for the universe to give her a break.....ahaha.....

personality + tidbits

so emi......my baby......she’s a strange one. she’s that bitch that’s super nerdy but in the weirdest way like the stuff she’s into is so specific and just....generally stuff literally no one else would care about but to emi it’s like holy shit this is the coolest thing in the world JSBDJWBDJWBJD she knows a little about a lot so she has the tendency to come across as pretentious if you don’t know her outside of class when in reality she’s just read one too many random facts. also weird in the sense that she’s a STRONG believer in the paranormal and in aliens and in witchcraft and stuff like that as well as believing in things that seem “logical”. it can be confusing to people who view that stuff as silly that someone so smart would be into it. 

speaking of smart.....she’s a polygot which basically means she can speak a bunch of languages ! she’s self-taught, and since she’s a classics major some of her favorites to study include greek and latin ( dead language who ? ). she’s pretty chill about it though and if you wanted to learn she’d be the type that’s 100% down to teach you. she always learns the curse words first just you know....for the fun of it ! she probably has very specific “pet names” for everyone in the friend group in random languages 

anyway she’s also stupid. ASDJWBDWBJDBWJDWJD i mean like in the way that she makes the most .... impulsive decisions that usually have negative consequences. she’s the type to convince herself she knows exactly what she’s then come up with the worst plan you have ever heard in your life. an example of a dumb decision emi has made ? your girl ate a pot brownie the day after she got back in her dorm after rehab bc she convinced herself it was a good way to de-stress. some other dumb decisions include various drunk tattoos ( which thankfully haven’t been too bad save for the words eat me tattooed in small font on her ass ). also owns a stick & poke gun so she’s for sure tried to tattoo friends while intoxicated despite.....not being a tattoo artist ... she’s not even an art student .... SJBDJWBDJW....but she’s very very good at convincing people to join in on her dumb antics so be weary

big on photography !!! she loves taking pictures. always that one friend who reminds you to document the moment and you get annoyed but then when you want to post a picture on insta you’re thankful she was there <3 she has the energy of like .... the dad friend when you need support JSDBWBDJWBDJW she tries to be caring but it just turns into like ... emi high off her ass putting her hand on your shoulder and being like “you know fuck it man you’re amazing” not that good at the emotional stuff like she really wants to be but she legit doesn’t know how.......kinda accidentally turned into an emo kid bc she channels her feelings though some kick ass playlists and the notes app in her iphone instead of talking to people JSBDJWBJDBWJDBJ 

she’s high key struggling but she’s the type to be like no its fine this is fine life is a ride babey better hold on ! tries to keep things flirty and fresh 99% of the time but then you’ll witness the rare emi breakdown which.....involves a whole lot of tweets that will all be deleted within 24 hours and emi will in fact deny they ever existed

really a laid-back girl but the chaotic energy is there folks......she can also very easily get into her youngest child complex if she’s upset which just involves emi being a pain in the ass and everyone having to deal with it JSBDWBDJWBDJWBDJW  she likes to make it hard to say no to her.....not exactly manipulative but sometimes she can get close /: not listed in her fears but she is in fact scared of genuine love and affection ! it’s like she craves it so much she’s terrified abt what will happen if she ever gets it.......so she makes sure she’s never in danger of that by never getting into anything serious.....but then at night shes like damn . kinda want a freak to hold my hand rn and tell me they love me ... JSDBWBDJWBDJWBJDWJDW it’s all fun and games.............

ok thats it im done rambling.................this is so long..............and for what !!!!! i made her more of a clown than i intended but thats okay (: JSDBJWBDWJDBWJ emi might hate clowns but im embracing them ! 

[bohemian-napsodyy]

Teach Me Your Heart

Request: “Can I ask what If like , rami(Freddie Mercury) gets a co star in the bohemian Rhapsody movie right (it’s au) and the actress sings in the movie , but in real life is a pop star , and rami(and Freddie ) falls for her ( like how David Bowie sang in labyrinth, but he’s a real life singer” -- requested by @angelfuzzy2

Word Count: 3.1k (im sorry)

Warnings: there’s a bit of anxiety that happens (not a full on panic attack though) -- just wanted to keep everyone aware

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me for this one! I’m sorry it took me a while to get it done, but I really enjoyed working with this idea. The title is a line from a song called Meant by Zach Winters, an incredibly beautiful song that helped to inspire the plot for this :) if you like, you can listen to it here.  

PS: there’s a song mentioned at the end that i deliberately chose to remain ambiguous, so you can pick your favourite/best song to insert in for that scene :) it’ll make sense when you get to that part, i promise

You weren’t sure what to call the events that occurred all within one week, but you knew it was more than just a coincidence.

Performing was in your bones. You were born for it. There was nothing else you’d rather do. Just the thought of working a normal nine-to-five job made you crumple a little inside. You had spent your entire childhood putting on shows for relatives at holiday gatherings, and now that you were older you realized acting was your thing. And singing. You were so passionate about music, you couldn’t go a single day without picking up your guitar for at least an hour.

You had an agent for acting, and you had a YouTube channel up for your music. It wasn’t much, but at least you were putting yourself out there somehow. You had started to get discouraged though -- it had been almost two years and you had only gotten minor roles for local productions. Not to mention you were lucky if you managed to get over one hundred views on your music uploads.

Sure, you submitted an audition tape for a film about Freddie Mercury, which definitely seemed like a big deal, but you never heard back. It had been four months since you submitted your audition, and by now you were ready to give up the possibility of hearing back from the producers.

Nine-To-Five Nightmares were approaching faster than you thought. You weren’t sure how much longer you could afford to continue pursuing a career in performing arts.

Then out of the blue, or what you liked to call ‘some weird interference from Up There Somewhere’, you got a call.

Two, actually.

The first one was from a representative at Atlantic Records, calling to say they had seen your covers and original songs on YouTube. They thought you had potential. Lots of it. They wanted to sign you and have you release an album by the end of the following year.

If that wasn’t enough, two days after the call from Atlantic Records, your agent contacted you. You had been cast as the lead singer of an opening act for Queen in Bohemian Rhapsody. Your character would go on to become close friends with Freddie and support him through his battle with AIDS.

You felt sorry for the neighbours -- you were screaming and jumping up and down so loudly after your agent broke the news to you, you were surprised the cops didn’t show up at your door.

That crazy mayhem of events left you where you were now: standing at the entrance to the set as many crew members hurried around you frantically.

‘Overwhelmed’ was nowhere near an appropriate term to explain how you felt right now.

“Hello, darling. It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

You turned around to see Rami, already in costume as Freddie, smiling kindly at you. 

For a good moment or two, you forgot how to breathe.

Was it the hair and makeup? The wardrobe? You weren’t sure. There was definitely something about Rami that totally changed since you last saw him at the table read.

He really was Freddie.

“Hi,” You managed to breathe out, suddenly feeling rather dull in your sweater dress costume in comparison to Freddie’s -- no wait, Rami’s -- white monstrosity of an outfit.

“Ready to perform, then?” Rami asked, his eyes gleaming. He definitely noticed you checking him out, oh god...

You managed a shrug, calling on all your strength as you inhaled to regain your composure. “I guess,” you replied. “But I mean, we’ll have plenty of takes to perfect it, right? So there’s no reason to be nervous, really.” You weren’t sure who you were reassuring, Rami or yourself.

He blinked, and you weren’t sure what it was you said that made him so confused all of a sudden.

“What are you talking about, darling?” Rami asked you with a laugh, leaning forward casually and placing a hand gently on your arm. “It’s a concert, of course you’ve only got one shot. Where on Earth did you get this idea of ‘takes’ from?”

“You... I mean we... This is a film...?” You spluttered. Rami tightened his grip on your arm and leaned into you so your cheeks were almost touching.

“I know love,” he whispered, and for a split second he dropped the British accent. Your breath caught in your throat at the proximity between the two of you. “I’d prefer to stay in character even off camera. For now, Rami doesn’t exist, okay?”

Oh. So that’s why he was so confused a moment ago. To Freddie, the scene you were about to film was an actual performance.

You nodded, and just like that Freddie returned. He extended his hand out to you before nodding towards the stage. Perfect timing, in fact, as a small handful of crew members began making their way towards you to let you know they’d be filming your performance soon.

“Come on then, darling,” Freddie beckoned with a wink. “Get on that stage and blow us away, won’t you?”

“Filming is going well I hope?”

You lounged on the small battered couch in your trailer, a thin blanket around your shoulders as you pressed your phone to your ear. You had a couple hours before your next scene, and somewhere in that waiting time your music producer, David, had called to check in.

“Yeah... yeah, I think so.” You replied, setting further into the couch. It was 10 PM already, and you were doing your best to stay awake. “I was really nervous at first, but everyone’s really nice.”

You thought of one person in particular when you said ‘everyone’. 

“That’s great, Y/N. I’m glad to hear it. Remind me again, when is the movie coming out?”

“Later this year...” You frowned, running a hand through your hair as you tried to recall when exactly they planned to release Bohemian Rhapsody. “I think early November? Why?”

There was a shuffling of papers on the other line before David spoke again.

“Y/N, I had an idea. Remember how we initially agreed that you’d release your album in spring 2019?”

“Yeah...?” Your stomach dropped. Your intuition told you this wasn’t going a direction you’d like.

“I was thinking...” David continued. You silently wished you could reach through the phone and smack him. Why couldn’t he get to the point already? Your nerves were creeping up on you, and fast. 

“I think it would be best, for you personally as well as promotionally, if we set your album release date back for late November.”

“Of this year?” You spluttered, sitting up with a gasp. You were so startled, you didn’t hear your trailer door open quietly behind you.

“Yes, November of this year.” David answered with a laugh. You swallowed nervously. You only had written two songs so far, not nearly enough for a full-length album like David was expecting. You had been going by the impression that you had plenty of time after filming Bohemian Rhapsody to get your songs written out. 

“It makes sense, Y/N.” David continued. “You’ll have just finished promotion for Bohemian Rhapsody, you’ll have become a household name, and just as everyone is getting to know you, boom! We drop your album. Everyone will go nuts-”

You stopped listening to David ramble on as you were startled by Rami, who seemed to appear out of nowhere and sit down beside you on the couch. He frowned at you, nodding in question at your phone. You held up a finger in response, signalling him to wait.

“So that sounds good, Y/N? Let’s release your album, say, November 20th? Oh! One more thing, to have the full effect, keep this a secret. Just between us, okay?”

“O-okay.” You replied shakily. Your heartbeat had increased tremendously just thinking about trying to balance memorizing your lines, writing songs (in secret now nonetheless), and actually doing your job and acting over the next few months. Your anxious thoughts must have translated onto your face, because you noticed Rami was gazing at you with a concerned frown.

“Look David,” You said quickly, eager to get your producer off the phone. “They’re calling me now, I have to be on set to film.”

You hated lying, but you tried to reassure yourself that it could’ve been the truth. Perhaps that’s why Rami had come by anyway.

“Okay!” You hated how chipper David was. Especially when put into comparison with your own swarm of butterflies eating away at your insides. “We can talk more later. Happy filming!”

As soon as the line went dead, you rolled your eyes and chucked your phone onto the couch with a groan. Rami laughed quietly and placed a hand affectionately on your knee. 

“Bad day, darling? Even after that fucking brilliant performance you gave earlier?”

Oh, you realized with a faint sinking feeling. He was still Freddie.

It wasn’t that you disliked the fact that Rami stayed in character even when he wasn’t filming, but after all the chaos that just unfolded quickly around you, you needed someone real to talk to. 

But you couldn’t just tell Rami that. 

You sighed, sandwiching your phone between the couch cushions so you wouldn’t have to look at it and be reminded of David and his stupid, yet admittedly logical, plan.

“You could call it a bad day, yeah.” You grumbled. Rami, no, Freddie, leaned back against the couch and raised his eyebrows at you.

“Do go on, sweetheart,” He encouraged with a smile. “You may be in the presence of royalty, but I’ll listen.” Freddie finished his sarcastic quip with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but still managed a smile. A part of you still longed to talk to Rami, but you didn’t know if you’d offend him by asking.

For now, you’d just have to talk to Freddie and hope that would be enough.

“What do you do when people try to... control you... and get you to do things their way?” You asked with a frown as you tested the waters. Freddie looked down for a moment as he took in your question.

“Easy,” he said with a smirk, tapping your knee playfully as he did so. “I’d tell them to fuck off.”

“And then?” You asked, mostly to humour him at this point. You felt your stomach sink in disappointment. You knew talking to Freddie wasn’t going to go over well. He was the complete opposite of you in literally every way. 

Freddie shrugged. “Then I’d find someone else as a replacement. You shouldn’t have to make time in your life for twats like that. They don’t deserve a beautiful, talented angel like you.”

You pulled your blanket tighter around your shoulders, desperate for some sort of reassurance, even if it was from nothing more than an object. Despite his words, Freddie was only making things worse for your anxiety. You could feel your heart pounding harder in your chest, and you wondered if Freddie could hear it from where you were sitting.

You were startled when Freddie moved closer to you suddenly, one hand still staying on your thigh in reassurance while he wrapped his other arm around your shoulders.

“Darling, you’ve got tears in your eyes.” He noted with a low whisper. All notes of sarcasm and wit had left his voice, and the amount of compassion he held instead almost made you fall to bits right there.

“I’m fine.” You managed tightly, but silently cursed yourself when your voice cracked at the end of the second word. You blinked, and Freddie wiped a tear away from your cheek gently just as it began to fall. 

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Freddie murmured, caressing your cheek with a feather-light touch. “I want to help. Please. What can I do?”

A moment passed as you sat there in silence, unsure of whether to ask Freddie the question you felt was probably going to piss him off, or offend him at the very least. Still, if you were going to spill what David had told you to keep secret to someone, you much preferred them to exist long after the movie wrapped.

“You’re going to hate me for this, I’m sorry...” You mumbled, keeping your eyes on the ground so you wouldn’t have to see his reaction. “But... I want to talk to Rami about what’s going on. Not Freddie.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you were pulled into a reassuring embrace. 

“Y/N, you don’t need to apologize.” You felt a wave of relief as Rami spoke, this time without Freddie’s accent. The breath you had been holding seemed to carry most of your anxiety with it. It came out as a sob, and Rami stroked your hair comfortingly.

“I’m here.” He whispered. “I’m here. What’s going on?”

You told him everything. Your struggles with acting and videos on YouTube, the call from Atlantic Records and the producers, all the way up to the situation with David that just occurred. 

It turned out that talking to Rami was indeed what you needed. He helped to reassure you that you could do it, and he even offered to help in any way he could.

He had promised you that your album release would remain between the two of you. Specifically the two of you. When Rami was on set and in character as Freddie, absolutely nothing was mentioned about your own music. It was as if even Freddie was completely oblivious to the plan David had for you.

Which left you where you were now.

On Saturdays when you weren’t filming, Rami had offered to come by your hotel room for the day and help you with writing. In return, to thank him the only way you could think of, you’d spend Sundays helping him rehearse even more and work with him on perfecting Freddie.

“How many songs do you have now?” Rami asked. 

The two of you were seated on the floor of your hotel room, taking a break after having spent the last four hours going over your scenes together. You didn’t have many left, especially since filming was wrapping in under a month, but for some reason the director left your most intense scenes together for last. To say both of you were exhausted was an understatement. You leaned your head on Rami’s shoulder, and in turn he rested his cheek gently against the top of your head. 

“Almost a full album’s worth,” you grinned, even though he couldn’t see it. “We’re at seven now. I just need one or two more, and I’m good to go.”

Rami reached over and laced his fingers with yours, giving your hand a congratulatory squeeze.

“That’s awesome,” he replied, lifting his head off yours so he could smile at you. “I realized something though, Y/N.”

You blinked. “What’s that?”

“Even though we’ve worked on a lot of songs together, I’ve never heard you sing one of them in full. Want to change that?”

“Oh,” you giggled, burying you face in your hands as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Oh god, Rami, no...”

“Come on!” He encouraged, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “We’ve worked all day on Freddie, let’s have a change of scene.”

“I didn’t warm up,” You mumbled, peeking at him through your fingers. Rami smiled, gently pulling your hands away from your face. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he encouraged with a smile. Some part in the back of your mind noted that he was still holding both of your hands in his, a thought just strong enough to make your heart skip a beat. “It’s just me. Please?”

“Okay, okay.” You caved, laughing as you got up and grabbed your guitar off the stand in the corner of the room. “Um, is there one in particular you want to hear?”

“Whichever one is your favourite.”

You exhaled, feeling extra-conscious about Rami’s unwavering gaze on you now. You took another deep breath, partially for good luck and partially to try and still your shaky hands. 

As soon as you began playing, the nerves melted away. You lost yourself in the music, and what seemed like mere moments later, you finished playing.

A rather loud applause from one erupted as soon as you strummed the last note on your guitar, and you laughed nervously as you placed your guitar gently back on its stand.

“Did that sound okay?” You asked, returning to sit beside Rami on the floor.

“Y/N, your music has the ability to take people to another world.”

You rolled your eyes, and he nudged you in return.

“I’m serious!” He exclaimed, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. “God, you’re honestly so beautiful-”

Your eyes widened at his words, and as he realized what had just been said, Rami’s features mirrored your own expression.

“Uh, I mean, I meant-”

“It’s okay,” You said quietly. “I know what you meant.”

You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up its pace in your chest. You didn’t miss Rami’s gaze trailing down your features to your lips and staying there for a few seconds longer than necessary. You unconsciously shuffled closer to him, suddenly realizing your need to get closer to him.

Somewhere in your mind, you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. 

You almost stopped yourself from thinking about anything related to that, but you realized his gaze kept darting from your eyes and back down to your lips. Maybe he was thinking the same thing you were.

“Rami?” You asked, your tone of voice made a whisper seem loud.

He only hummed in response.

“Could I...” Your breath caught in your throat as his hand came up to caress your cheek. “Could I kiss you-”

His lips were on yours before you could even finish forming your question. He kissed you once, twice, three times before pulling away. You felt fuzzy, unable to distinguish anything other than Rami.

“Was that okay?” You asked nervously. You saw a myriad of emotions pass through Rami’s eyes; adoration, amusement, compassion. 

In the end, he never actually replied. He only laughed softly and guided your face back to his and kissed you again, deeper and more passionately than before.

You figured that meant it was more than okay.