#and even though they didn’t become close til like high school

[calamity-jam]

Promptis Week 2022 - Fav Era | Red | “Hey there, Prince Noctis! I’m Prompto, nice to meet you!”

they may not have met in this time or become close friends til later on, but i think seeing them meet at this time would have been neat!

[lokisgoodgirl]

A Long Shower [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You become an unwitting voyeur to Loki's post-workout routine. (w/c 2.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Voyeurism. Awkwardness. Thirst. Smuttish. M*sturbation. Language.

Shit shit shit shit shit You hurriedly crouched behind the row of lockers, hunched and contorted to an inch of your life. If you were honest, you didn’t think you were going to fit. And right now, you sort of wished you hadn’t. The air you’d sucked in felt like granite, holding your breath as Loki Laufeyson padded obliviously over the heated tiles.

Why am I such an awkward arsehole, you thought; lungs starting to burn. Can’t just say hello, excuse me; like a normal person. Need to hide behind the feckin’ lockers, Jesus.

The unmistakeable sound of his sultry singing had wafted down the hall like a hymn. 'Der ligger hun i sjøen, min elsker, Jeg hører henne rope når månen er høy' He was so absent-mindedly perfect, in every way. Fuck. You’d only come in to grab forgotten headphones, there was nothing untoward. And yet, when you’d heard his hypnotic gravelled voice– you had panicked. And now, it was too late. 'Hun kjenner ikke ledningene hun holder... som binder hennes hjerte til mitt' Silence. You opened one eye reluctantly, half expecting to see his magnificent form looming with sceptical disdain. But, no. He was bent on one knee facing the opposite wall, untying his trainers. I didn’t think he’d tie his own shoes, you frowned. That ass, though. Loki was dressed in skin-tight black workout clothes that left just enough to the imagination. And boy, had you imagined. That gym gear of his clung to every carved inch of his body like a second skin. Alongside the way that he growled and grunted through inhuman workouts, it was a miracle you had survived this long in the team. Lord above, the filthy things he had done to you in your head in the dead of night as you touched yourself beneath sweaty sheets. It might even make him blush. You bit your lip, blowing air gently, silently, through your nose. You suddenly felt twenty pounds lighter. The thought had often crossed your mind about just who Loki was behind closed doors. He was charming and polite, a bit extra – kind of an asshole sometimes. And he was always on. There had been a sign hanging in the hallway of your old high school which had read, ‘who you truly are, is the person you become when you think nobody's watching’. You thought about that sign a lot. Your gaze tracked up from Loki’s ankles, over the curve of his bulging thighs tight beneath the shorts; a sheet of damp curls hanging down past his neck. And who are you, Loki Laufeyson? He unfurled, the muscles in his calves hardening as he pushed up. The shoes were kicked aside as he ran his hands casually through that gorgeous hair with a sigh. Oh god, you realised with rising horror. Is he going to… Still facing the wall, Loki began to strip.

The damp lycra top was the first soldier to fall. It peeled away beneath crossed hands which raised achingly slowly above his head. With every inch of skin revealed, you felt the blood drain from your face. I’m going to pass out, you thought, pushing yourself back against the tiled wall and hoping it would absorb you. His broad, triangular torso was inescapable. You should close your eyes. Avert your gaze. Protect his modesty. But oh, god - Loki tugged the training top from his head with a strained grunt, wild hair falling in waves between shifting shoulder-blades. He stretched to the side, freshly pumped forearms bulging with sickening definition. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his iridescent skin. Fuck, how you wanted to lick him. Taste the virgin sweat that was gathered in every dip and valley. In the soft lighting of the changing rooms, every dented curve of his arms were visible, each breathe making the landscape of his back flex as he rolled his head from side to side. He has fucking...back-dimples. You realised you had been holding your breath again. Long fingers began to toy with the waistband of his shorts. Jesus take the wheel, not the shorts. They caught on the curve of his ass, elastic grazing sluttishly down taut skin. You pressed your lips together painfully to stop the whimper building behind your teeth as the shorts fell in a heap around his ankles. I’m fucked, you thought. He’s naked. And I’m fucked. All he had to do was turn around. But he didn’t. Loki took a step to the side, positioning himself with ceremonial purpose in front of a small square mirror. Blessedly, it was too far to the side to reveal your hiding spot. You watched as his brow furrowed, looking deep into his own eyes. If there was one thing more hypnotic than Loki’s body, it was his face. As deep and inscrutable as the galaxies themselves.

He brought a hand across his chest to the opposite shoulder, massaging the dip as he appraised what he saw against some inscrutable criteria. Loki’s endless legs widened, ass clenching. Your stomach had a heartbeat, whirring with unspent adrenaline. Of all the ways you imagined you would first see Loki naked – this was not it. The digits slid to his jaw, thumb and forefinger tipping it to either side as he inspected himself. Is he checking for wrinkles? With mild horror, you realised you couldn’t feel your legs. Loki frowned again, ropes of hard shoulder muscle rolling as he sighed deeply. It was a tired sigh. It made you wonder if a god-level workout was the only thing wearing him out in the morning. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away. Your eyes flew to the wall before firing shut, a primitive freeze response. This was it. The rumble of a shower spurting to life broke the silence, strong pressure from the fancy waterfall head pattering to the tiles below. The showers were to the far right, outside your frame of view. You let out the breath you were holding in staggered, soundless relief. Maybe I can get out while he’s distracted. Crawl out. On my fucking hands and knees like a pervert. You waited a few seconds until the water’s rhythm broke, a contented growl from Loki’s throat that made your pussy hum signalling that his ritual had begun. Like the aforementioned pervert, you craned forwards, peeking around the corner of the lockers. God, how your legs ached. Your eyes widened. Goddammm, Laufeyson.

Loki stood long and lean, water cascading from where the stream hit the back of his neck, all the way down his legs. Even in the shower, his posture was impeccable. He tilted his head back, lips parted as he let the fresh droplets soak his front. The curls you adored from afar had turned to an inky slick, tendrils winding over alabaster skin like an intricate tattoo. There was a quiet beauty about him like this. This was one of his few private moments, an oasis of calm in his otherwise simmering façade. He’s so fucking…beautiful, you pined; realising that your eyeline was dropping unforgivably down his naked body. The rounds of his ass glistened in the soft light, lucky droplets rolling over the curves of muscle which dipped in at the middle of each cheek. He shifted on his feet, the slap of water making you jump as he swivelled his midriff to the side. The baritone hum began again, a hauntingly beautiful melody. From this new angle, every ridge and valley of his abdomen came into view. Fluffs of bubbles ran down his slick skin at a snails pace, each trail lapping over the deep crevices of his adonis belt. Your breath hitched, drawing back behind the lockers so only the tiniest sliver of him was in view. Fat drips of water slid down his legs from hip to calf, relishing each second they spent grasped to his ethereal skin. The undeniable slick in your panties was becoming untenable, becoming an itch that you didn't dare scratch. Heat seeped through the fabric of your leggings as you squashed further back against the wall. Loki raked a hand through the jet mass of hair, shaking a clump as he smoothed it to one side. His eyes were closed, a dark fan of lashes pressed innocently against the delicate skin beneath. I’m going to go into cardiac arrest, you mused, making your peace as he raised one arm to brace against the tiled wall. His profile was in full view now, and for the first time, you caught a glimpse of the legendary cock which haunted your dreams. It rose against his flat stomach, hard and thick and ready to be fucked. Oh god. You swallowed, mouth drier than sand. No. No. No, this is not happening. You shook your head, trying pathetically to wake. The dull ache in your thighs had grown to a roar, muscles screaming to be released from the stress position you’d be holding for what felt like three hours. You felt your parched lips part as the god placed his palm against his obscene manhood, wrapping each straight finger singularly around the shaft with formidable intent. He licked his lips, looking down at it like prey. Like a conquest. The arm locked against the wall, fully outstretched, sliding the foot nearest you backwards a few inches. It squeaked. His bicep tensed as he pressed against the tile, running water continuing its steady beat against his perfect skin. And then, he began to pump. In slow, torturous strokes. Oh god. Loki’s pinky finger hit the sudsy patch of public hair around the base with every journey, squeezing his foreskin out at the tip as it reached the summit. This was not a man in a rush. This was a man with relaxation on his mind. What the actual fuck am I doing here. Your eyes squeezed shut again, slinking back. To be fair, you had more than enough material in the wank-bank to last you the rest of your days. So the next five minutes, then; you thought bitterly, as low moans of pleasure began to sink from the god’s lips. I will not survive this.

The sound mingled with the heavy steam filling the air, a heady scent of bergamot wafting as his erotic sighs and breathy groans reluctantly transcended you to a higher plane. Loki’s moans vibrated, rising and falling. He was shameless. Anyone could walk in, you thought incredulously; before realising the irony.

The god’s hips rocked into each swipe of his hand; fucking rhythmically against his fist as water cascaded over his neck and down chiselled abs. Clumps of soaking hair hung around his cheekbones, layered down his neck, down his shoulders. You hadn’t even realised you were staring at him again, rocking on the balls of your feet as your sweaty fingertips pressed against the floor in a trance. He was intoxicating. The way his brow creased. The way he was sighing gently from glistening lips. Droplets clung to his cheekbones, pacing downward before fainting to the porcelain below. He was completely in the moment, completely lost in himself. Who are you thinking about, Loki? Your heart was thundering, the acid collecting in your burning calves, forgotten. Loki released a ragged groan, taut obliques clenching. The muscles in his femurs tensed, his palm sliding down the wall as his whole body juddered. Long fingers that you fantasised about slipping deep inside you curled against the tiles. Please cum, you hoped ravenously; breaths quickening. Please, for the love of god please cum. “I know you’re there, Agent.” Cold dread rose with each slowly enunciated word, eyes widening as panic expanded like barbed foam in your belly. “Honestly," Loki smarmed, his head falling back with a rasping moan as he released himself with a final squeeze. “How you ever manage to conceal yourself in any undercover operation with all that heavy breathing is beyond me.” With an ungraceful gasp you fell forward, splayed on the heated tiles. Your forehead was pressed to the floor, mind racing as you carded through every possible excuse. None of them were plausible. With difficulty, you turned your cheek to the side to face him. “I’m sorry…” you mumbled, reluctantly pressing up and dusting off your leggings as your cheeks burned hot. “I didn’t mean to-I was just...and then you-” “-Look at me.” he said sternly. Your eyes fluttered up, hoping that the way you were gazing at him was penitent and seductive in equal measure. But he was smiling. Sort of. One side of Loki’s mouth twitched, the pressure from the waterfall shower bouncing outward from between his shoulder-blades as he stared you down. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back. In that standard regally panty-wetting pose that you had admired many times while you raked every inch of his leather-clad body with covetous eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, and closed it again. “I plan on having a very long shower, Agent,” he purred knowingly, the inky curls pasted to his jawline making your stomach flip. He widened his legs, reminiscent of a battle stance. Your eyes fell to his perfect cock twitching neglected against his stomach and then back to his face. The clothes on your body felt heavier with every passing second. “Would you care to join me?” he said politely, as easily as offering you a cup of tea. He already knew the answer. He had known all along. Of course he knew, you mug. Your thighs squeezed together, biting your lip. Loki did the same, before stretching to a wide smile. Mischievous fire simmered in his dilated eyes. There was a click as the lock on the door slid shut of it’s own accord while you pulled your t-shirt over your head.

In the brief cover of darkness, you heard Loki moan again.

Loki's Song (aka nonsense I made up) There she lies in the lake, my lover I hear her call when the moon is high She does not know the cords she holds That bind her heart to mine

Tags (cont in comments) @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @imalovernotahater @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @gruftiela @glitchquake

[tesalicious2]

More Kortac:

König gets along really well with Askel and Klaus for obvious reasons. If any of them heads home, they’ll bring back the good beer and treats that they all know

Everyone will eat whatever is in the fridge, nothing is safe. Maybe if it has a not from a family member will some of them leave it alone. But that is no guarantee.

Horangi, in an attempt to ‘chill Oni out’, slipped marijuana drops into his tea and got him high as hell.

Oni laid on the common room couch for 6 hours without moving and said the weirdest shit.

Horangi was there the whole time and loved every moment, unfortunately, some others didn’t agree

Declan, Stilletto, Askel, Klaus, and Horangi openly laughed while Calisto and Zero were the only ones who didn’t find it funny at all

Oni quickly got Horangi back by replacing some of his nice kimchi with weird cheap stuff he found for online. He mixed it together to blend the flavors

At dinner that night, Horangi got half way through before leaving to throw up. Oni laughed the whole time

Horangi quickly returned to dinner and tackled him over the table, attempting my to shove some of the bad kimchi down his throat.

The yelling foreign languages at each other was funny. Mostly since it was Oni mocking Horangi and Horangi yelling rather than vice versa.

Horangi has seen everyone’s face, mostly because he doesn’t knock and has weird hours

This includes Ghost, even if they only worked together for a week

Fender is the only one who’s seen almost everyone’s face because they showed it to him willingly, König will wear a medical mask but won’t show his face

The medics know a lot of secrets about everyone, not important ones though, very stupid ones

Know Roze stole a loaf of bread from her family’s kitchen when she was 8 and felt bad so she tossed it in a lake

Know Zero once a had a crush on a middle school girl when he was in elementary and tried hard to get her attention but failed miserably

They won’t tell anyone because of Patient-Client Confidentiality and consequently become the secret keepers of the group

König only one who has seen Fender’s face.

KorTac tries to have dinner together and push the tables into a square, it’s really fun and they have game night (without gambling)

König has the highest tolerance and is has never gotten past drunk before.

He doesn’t really get drunk, he just gets wobbly and that’s all. No one knew the first time til he tried to get up and immediately tripped over his own feet, stayed on the floor and groaned, saying ‘damn, drank to much’

No one could remember how much he drank that night.

Everyone once saw him have like 14 beers (he has his own stash from home that’s strong and no one else likes) and said he felt tipsy and didn’t know his limit

Declan and Oni come in close second and Declan will brag about this to anyone who listens

Stilletto and Horangi are third but they don’t really care. Calisto, Zero, and Gromsko are the same way but have a lower tolerance

Zeus is really bad at drinking games and refuses to play, so they don’t really know his limit

He has admitted to being in the third place group, much to Declan’s amusement

Hutch has hacked into devices with weird search history’s. He doesn’t talk about it but if drunk enough he will tell some of the weirder non sexual ones.

Though, there are a few he will never speak of because thinking about them makes him shiver.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter seven

stay ari abdul

❝I hope I occupy your mind

No one deserves you, yeah you're mine

Only with you I feel alive

If you leave me here, I'll die❞

The layout of the hotel was simple, sleek and seemed perfect for two adults, except those adults would have to be in a relationship if there was only one bed—or close family members.

Strangely, you didn’t feel the least bit mad though, a bit overwhelmed with the whole gas leak situation and the fact that the receptionist lied to your face but other than that, it was like you were at home.

But tonight, you’d be sharing a bed with Kenma—and you both weren’t family nor very close; it kick-started a flutter in your heart.

You watched him gazing around the room, skipping over the other living human being too as he stuck certain things to mind, like which side of the room the bathroom was at, where the remote to the TV was placed, where you were staring at him from and so on.

Kenma didn’t know how to feel, especially about rooming with the girl he actually realized he has a miniscule—huge—crush for. 

Kenma was hoping—alongside you as well—that tonight wouldn’t make anything more strange between the both of you, however, he could almost guess that it would be the case for the night. 

Kuroo stayed at an Airbnb with his friends, Bokuto, Akaashi and other high school friends you had never met—you had taken the liberty yourself to ask—so, you had no choice but to stay in the hotel room with Kenma.

You weren’t complaining too much though because you had become more comfortable with him over this past week, so it didn’t bother you too much. Especially when you learned to put the whole ‘he masturbated to the thought of you’ out of your head, that did leave lingering feelings of a schoolgirl crush. It’s not like you would ever admit it though. 

“So…” You trailed on to Kenma, “What do we do now?” You looked up from your standing spot, the hotel looked really nice.

You haven’t been to a hotel since your last vacation with your parents too. You tried to not be awkward with Kenma, flashes of your last talks with Akaashi were still fresh and at this point, you were too chicken to admit your feelings for Kenma.

“I guess just lounge til we're tired...?” He questioned, because that’s what he mostly does when his days off align with work and college. Now with you taking up even those rare days too, he needed a little quiet time in his head.

Kenma plopped down on the nearby, small sofa and pulled out his phone. You took that as a sign that he didn’t want to talk and then rolled your eyes. 

“Okay, Kenma,” You responded, opening up Pinterest yourself. You didn’t like sitting in mere silence either, it was practically deafening—it made you uncomfortable. So, you realized after so long, you had been rambling to Kenma about the things you were viewing on Pinterest.

“Oh, I think I like this picture better though, it has ribbons on the screen unlike the last one, but the last one was super cute too, though…” You trailed, scrolling between two lockscreens on your phone.

You just couldn’t decide, and all Kenma could respond with was a “Mhm.”

That was until you found a quiz, “Hey, wait! Should I take this quiz that’ll tell me what kind of bread I am? I hope I’m sourdough, it’s delicious.” You asked Kenma, hoping this time he’ll respond. 

He looked up from his phone to see you sprawled out on the bed, claiming it as yours. You looked cute as hell; Kenma couldn’t not soften his gaze from the random rambling you’ve been doing for the past hour.

“I think you’d be a sweet bread,” he said, not realizing how it sounded out loud until your head snapped up to meet his eyes that were trailed on your body.

“Like a coffee one because you drink it so often,” He hurried to add, alongside giving a fake snort to make it seem like a joke. Kenma didn’t want to be the person to initiate the conversation you both have been waiting for, but the buildup of talking was more nerve racking than seeing what was on the other side. 

After that bit, you didn’t speak anymore but put on a random TV show that was on, after Kenma’s compliment, you were in your head about how you needed to say something—anything—to him about your feelings.

However, with the way he looks at you, so kind now, as if you both are dear friends, you just can’t. Not to mention, when he’s helpful or does things for you just because he wants to with no ulterior motives.

That’s what makes you swoon for him, and it sucked for you. Between the hours from then and now, it was a comfortable silence, Kenma had turned the side table lamp on instead of the big, overhead light.

You had completed the last bit of homework that needed to be done so you could relax for the rest of fall break, and you watched Kenma—without him knowing—turn his phone horizontal. 

Watching his expressions when he was focused was mesmerizing to you, you couldn’t look away from him. Kenma’s appearance was also just one of those things that had you swallowing hard and clenching your thighs together, as much as you won’t admit.

Like a hawk though, the first yawn that escapes your mouth, he’s up. “Come on, I’ll order some dinner while you get ready for bed.” Kenma breaks you out of your trance-like state, not bothering that you are too tired to eat now.

“I don’t want to, I’m tired now,” You rolled over onto your face, your voice coming out muffled from the pillow.

“I don’t care, you’re eating. Get in the shower and don’t make me repeat myself.” You peeked from your pillow to him turned around, his backside facing you.

The rush of butterflies and urge in your lower abdomen was breathtaking. You never knew that Kenma could be assertive, but then again, you knew certain parts of him—only little tid-bits that he wanted you to know.

“Okay, fine.” You grumbled, trying to hide your flushed face with your hair as you trudged to the bathroom with your bag that you packed.

You could slightly hear him through the door, ordering dinner for the both of you, you did like that Kenma cared for you, it sent a rush of no other through your body. 

After your relaxing shower, you were met with dinner, it was something simple, but Kenma knew your favorites after living with you for so long.

“Thank you, Kenma.” You smiled, happy that you were eating, having not realized that you were even hungry.

“Don’t mention it.” He stated, scrolling on his phone before throwing away the scraps of his food.

“I’m going to shower; I’ll sleep on the floor when I’m back.” He said, not turning back and was about to close the white door.

“Hey, what? No, you’re not. The floor is going to be uncomfortable to sleep on, you can’t.” You said confused, the bed was big enough, and more, for the both of you.

“No, seriously, I’m fine with the flo-”

“Do you not want to sleep with me? I showered, you know. I’m not dirty.” You were taking offense to his refusal, it’s not like you weren’t clean either.

“Oh my God, fine. I’ll sleep in the bed with you, okay?” He looked exasperated but couldn’t get over you asking if he didn’t want to sleep with you. 

God, you were going to be the death of him, he thought as he shut the door behind him with a hard on. When he took his hair out of his ponytail, he ran a hand through it, trying to relieve the stress from the too tight hair tie.

But, of course, he knew that the hair tie wasn’t the problem, it was his dick. Closing his eyes, he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, especially with you on the other side of the door. Kenma turned on the shower, almost burning hot, just the way he liked it.

The thoughts of you filled his head, the way you laid on the bed, how comfortable you looked, asking you to sleep with him, you with your sleep clothes on. It was all becoming too much as his hand strayed towards his reddening cock, he slowly breathed, hoping to keep the noise down or that it would be muffled by the shower so your ears wouldn’t hear.

He would be painfully embarrassed if you knew that he got off to you, especially when you’re right through the door. 

Kenma couldn’t help but to tightly shut his eyes as his hand squeezed his needy cock, God, he needed you, he craved making you his so he wouldn’t have to do this anymore.

His hand pumped up and down his dick rapidly, the slight papping noise of his hand hitting his skin making the illusion that the both of you were having sex.

He groaned loudly, his orgasm that he was trying to get away from, hitting him hard making his hips buck for more. Kenma tried to catch his breath in the deathly hot shower, almost suffocating as he watched his liquid be swallowed by the drain.

He immediately turned the shower cold as ice and hoped that you didn’t hear him as he finally started his ministrations of cleaning himself. 

However, you on the other side of the door didn’t give Kenma any more thoughts when you heard a small clap of thunder reach your ears.

That was enough for you to focus on pulling up the weather app and hope that it wasn’t what you thought it was. Of course, to your demise, it was, and that only made things worse for you in particular.

You immediately grabbed the TV remote and wrapped it up inside the blankets so Kenma would have no choice but to watch something that would help you get through this night. And so, when you heard the shower stop, you gripped the remote a bit more and waited for Kenma to get out of the bathroom.

When the door creaked open, Kenma couldn’t help but to feel regretful that you’re in here bundled up because it’s storming outside, and he was in the bathroom masturbating to you.

However, he didn’t expect to see the kids show ‘Bluey’ playing on the large hotel TV screen very loud and proud though. Great, that’s something he’s going to have to listen to for the rest of the night. 

He side-eyed you, to let you know he didn’t want to be watching this but the look you gave him was basically saying ‘remember what happened like a week ago’ so, he concluded the best thing to say was nothing.

“Are you okay? Is the storm making you nervous to where you can’t sleep?” He asked, climbing into the bed, trying to fend for some of the covers that you took.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to be watching this.” You shifted your eyes, feeling bad but preferred if you weren’t scared and crying all throughout the night.

Thunderstorms were something you hated, you couldn’t help but to be afraid of them, it probably stemmed from your childhood.

“It’s okay, try to get some sleep,” Was all Kenma said as you got comfortable, however Kenma on the other hand, didn’t. If he wanted more cover and not shiver all night as well as turn the TV down, he’d have to get closer to you in bed.

He decides to bite the bullet, and just scoot closer, what harm could there be? 

As he got comfortable, he didn’t expect you to snuggle up closer to him, especially when you were more than likely asleep. He took that chance to grab the remote and turn the TV down a bit, it was hurting from how loud it was.

When Kenma finally settled back down, he realized how close you both were, he could feel how fast his heart was beating in your presence, not to mention that his dick was half hard even though he masturbated in the shower.

Kenma could feel his face flushing as he listened to your breathing, it was soft as he counted your breaths in and out. He definitely would not be able to sleep now, especially when the girl he’s been hateful crushing on is snuggled up right next to him.

Adamant to not make this night something sexual, especially since you’re afraid of thunderstorms, he holds you close like he did that night in your bed.

The rain sounds mixed in with the even breaths of you was soothing enough to probably let him sleep—if you didn’t shuffle around every five seconds. 

It almost gives him a heart attack every so often when you shift in your sleep because besides being interested in a kids show, he keeps peering down at you and soft smiling, not being able to help it.

Kenma didn’t realize how long a kids show could actually be, especially when it just kept playing each episode without pause. He reached for the remote, eyes heavy, body wishing to sleep, and mind foggy, hoping to turn it off because it was practically two in the morning by that point.

That was until you stirred, waking up due to the lack of sound, in which Kenma pretends to be asleep, hoping that you didn’t catch him pretending.

All he heard from you was subtle mumbling about how he ‘shouldn’t touch the volume’ and to ‘mind his manners’. That was when he rolled his eyes while they were closed, hoping that it was enough for it to look like he was in REM sleep.

He felt you pat his cheek, trying to resist the rosiness that usually happens during close contact like this. When you shuffle a bit more, he peeks his eye open just very slightly, hoping to not let you see him. 

Your hair was a mess, and you looked sleepy with a cute little pout because of the volume. Kenma felt like his heart was going to burst if you didn’t go back to sleep soon.

That was, until you kept whispering something he couldn’t hear until he focused on the sound and not your looks, “Kenma, I felt like a little creep that day when I peeked at you, and I’m sorry, but it’s nice to know you like me too.” You softly spoke, just shy of a whisper, hoping to not wake him and to go back to sleep yourself.

You felt better and went back to sleep with ease because you confessed and got it off of your chest. However, Kenma on the other hand was internally in shambles, he hoped to God you weren’t talking about what he thought you were.

If he wasn’t so close to you, he’d get up and leave without another word exchanged, it was embarrassing to know that you caught him masturbating to you, if he’s thinking of the day correctly. The whole situation you put him in was horrible, notably that the Bluey theme song was playing while his world was coming apart too.

When your breathing became even again, he had to remove himself just a little way away because his face was a rubescent color and his cock was rock-hard. Kenma stayed that way with you shifting every five seconds, making every minute worse for him until he could see the sun rising through the small emerge that was left open of the black out curtains. 

However, that’s when you decide that you want to get up and greet the day, sleeping nicely all throughout the night, except when you had to get that small guilt-ridden comment off your chest.

You peered over at Kenma, feeling shy that you both were so close together last night, also because he was like a heat warmer.

Somehow, he still looked tired even when he was sleeping. “Good morning, Kenma.” You said softly, being sure to ease your way out of bed without waking him up, as well as turning off the TV for his sake.

Funnily enough, the only time Kenma was able to get some sleep was when you finally left the bed and probably were hungry for breakfast.

You, on the other hand, were ecstatic for today because this was the day that you were going to talk to Kenma, you decided it the moment you awoke from sleeping beside him. Your schoolgirl crush with him would be confronted and you’d feel so much better about getting all the feelings out instead of keeping them in. 

You’re not in the hotel room when Kenma wakes up, as true, he barely got a wink of sleep, just shy of an hour because the check out time was coming soon.

He decided to leave while he still could and not have to face you right now, it was kind of a shitty thing for him to do, he thought as he got dressed and put his shoes on. But, nevertheless, he’d see you at home anyways, Kenma just needed a little refuge for right now.

Especially since he was your refuge/safe place all night.

When Kenma’s leaving with his backpack on, there’s plenty of people in the hotel hallways, people coming back from lunch, collecting their things to check out, even the cleaning staff too. I

t was understandable that he bumped into someone, but he didn’t bother looking back in such a crowded hallway, however, he didn’t realize that the someone was you.

And if he had seen you, the confused expression on your face as to why he was leaving when you had just got his portion for breakfast and bumped into you without saying anything.

That kind of hurt your feelings as you stood there in the hotel hallway, not sure what to do. 

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

a/n: hiii! i hope you like the update and enjoy :)) we're coming to an end in a few chapters, so excitinggg ! <3

tag list: @geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart @ookamiakasuna @22marie16 @jlly1 @aldebrana @kad0o

@deftrow allowed me permission to make this/it's their idea from A03!! all i did was create a multi-chapter fic of it :) i made the banner!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

OHMKYGOSH YES i j read ur sashisu ramble… and i love love love hearing ab other people’s hyperfixations so don’t worry :33

mainly the fact that none of them could be open or vulnerable with each other …. to be honest i havent looked at sashisu very closely before but this hit me bc. I FEEL LIKE I RELATE SM :; like. i have a best friend who i’ve known since i was a baby but we’ve never ever had a serious conversation once… maybe this is unrelated but that is so tragic because to me friendships really struggle to be strong and stable against one another if you can’t ever show the side of you that’s struggling … being vulnerable w one another is key to bonding :’3

i have some thoughts about them— mainly shoko…. to me it kinda seems like she kept them at an arms length away this entire time on purpose and she still does…. maybe i’m spitballing idk i’m just basing it off the fact that satoru and suguru called her shoko but she still referred to them by surname even ‘til where we currently r in the manga (which. i will also ignore but i cant lie the memes were so funny…) but my thinking is that she did so because. even though we never really saw her much i think that’s it since she was a reversed ct user n probably didn’t have much experience fighting… maybe. hear me out just MAYBE she knew what might become of satoru and suguru since they were so enveloped in fighting and being the strongest, and both of them were so headstrong and arrogant for lack of a better term that she might’ve just… tried to keep herself from getting attached n being hurt even more than she already might’ve been simultaneously 😞😞

that still just makes me so so sad though….. they always looked so happy when they were together… maybe if they could’ve gotten suguru to talk and really listened to him for once…. alas ;; gege is an evil thing

U GET IT RIKO…

i feel exactly the same, i have two childhood friends who im very close to but none of us have ever been the type to really be vulnerable like that w each other and !! i absolutely think that strong connections need that, u need to be able to show even ur weaker side… n i guess the tragedy of suguru’s character is that he never felt comfortable showing his ”weak self” to shoko and satoru. T_T he will always make me cry like no other ….

BUT YES SHOKO !!! ur so valid riko. i love this woman so much n i think shes so interesting to talk abt !! ive been thinking abt the name thing too, i feel like its very telling of the sashisu dynamic; the fact that satoru and suguru ONLY (and i mean only) ever referred to each other w their given names, even after suguru’s defection… and how shoko refers to them as ”gojo” and ”geto” even though gojo still calls her shoko…,

i think its super interesting !! i rly rly wish i was able to read the og japanese manga, bc i feel like so many little language details like that get lost in translation (esp since the official jjk translation is kinda bad lol)… i wish we knew if shoko called them by their given names in high school, i want to think so but we just dont know </3

(i could be wrong but there was a translation on a recent chapter i read where shoko switched between ”satoru” and ”gojo”…… obv i dunno how accurate it is but i think itd be cool if we saw her start calling him satoru :’3 im delusional i still think my baby’s coming back)

but !! regardless i def think ur onto smth. i 100% see her as the type to get very detached to the ppl around her. thats why she seems so unbothered !! even tho she obv cares very much…. i think she loved both of them but she wasnt able to broach that gap between them, and after suguru’s defection i absolutely think she repressed herself even more…..

but its obvious that she still cares for them. like how she started smoking again after gojo got sealed / she found out abt kenjaku using geto’s body :((….

and yes i rly do think sugu couldve been saved if they had managed to open up like that <///3 thats what fanfic is for ig :’3… sob…..

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 5

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You find yourself in the middle of a predicament.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: SMUT as always, sort of public sex??? Unprotected sexy times, emotional damage lmao

A/N: Buckle up, babies!!! You’re in for a rollercoaster ride for this chapter ajckjasncjak I apologize in advance and please don’t hate me

AND BTW if you guys haven’t seen, I found the perfect playlist for this series lmao I saw the title and I was like HOLD UP this is perfect https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Eg5ZH6wMq4iocF5fWSesb?si=aff157a6198a4446

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Still awake, baby?

Fuck.

You screamed into your pillow upon reading Bucky’s text. It was quarter to midnight and you couldn’t sleep, especially not after Bucky told you that he wanted to make the relationship official.

It’d only been three months and you felt like he was moving too fast. And when he promised that he would find a way to snatch your heart the old-fashioned way? You wanted to explode because obviously, he already did.

But you weren’t going to say that to someone who already had a huge ego (and cock, too).

You composed yourself and typed in your reply, throwing your phone to your side after sending it.

Yeah. Why are you still up tho?

Not even a minute later and your phone began to ring. You sat up on your bed and squeezed your pillow, hating how Bucky had such an effect on you. Jesus, what are you, a high school student?!

You stared at his name on your screen before swiping and accepting the call.

“What’s up?” You answered as calmly as you could.

Bucky’s low chuckle sounded so fucking sexy that you had to bite your lower lip to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Still working. Can’t concentrate though, I keep remembering how you looked like with my cock in your mouth.”

You exhaled through your nose, “Jesus, you’re insatiable.” You said.

“Only for you, baby. You know that.” He said and your heart did a little somersault inside your chest.

“Don’t stay up too late, you have an early meeting tomorrow, right?” You asked, trying to change the topic because if you didn’t, you were sure how things would go.

Bucky let out another chuckle, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll just finish signing some papers and then I’m off to bed.”

You hummed and laid back down on the bed. It was completely silent but it wasn’t awkward. You heard the shuffling of paper on Bucky’s end, followed by the squeaking of a chair.

“You still there?” Bucky asked.

“Mhmm, you done?” You asked back.

“A few more papers left, baby. Can you wait ‘til I finish?”

There was something about talking to Bucky on the phone like this, so casual and so...mundane. It felt natural and comfortable, to think that this was the first phone conversation you had with him. He only sent you texts previously so this was new, but you had to admit, you loved it.

Bucky heard you yawning and let out a soft laugh. He sounded sleepy too when he spoke, “Almost done.” He reassured.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow.” He added.

“Yeah, okay. As long as it’s not in the same restaurant we went to after my promotion.” You groaned at the memory.

Bucky snorted, “We’re banned there, babe. Even if I wanted to go back there, they wouldn’t allow it.” He said.

“No shit, Sherlock. We got caught in their bathroom, of course they’ll ban us.” You huffed out.

“I was looking forward to dessert, you know.” You pouted.

“I got my dessert though.” You could hear Bucky’s smug smirk through the phone.

“Are you done?” Bucky whispered into your ear as he placed an arm on the back of the booth.

You shivered at his voice and nodded, grabbing your champagne and drinking it in one go.

“I promised you something, didn’t I? That I’ll give you something right before dessert? Meet me in the bathroom in five. Again, don’t be late.”

And with that, Bucky slid out of the booth and adjusted his suit before leaving for the bathroom. You clutched your heart and waved at the waiter who passed by, requesting for a refill and downing it before following Bucky.

You adjusted the black dress that Bucky bought you, you were surprised at how perfect the fit was. The lovely dress though, made you uncomfortable because of its length and the fact that Bucky still had your panties with him was making you feel even more conscious.

You were immediately pulled into the men’s bathroom as soon as you got there. Bucky tugged you into one of the cubicles and wasted no time to bend you over, lifting your skirt up to squeeze your ass.

“I knew I picked the right dress, you look good enough to eat.” Bucky grunted as he unbuckled his belt.

You moaned and pressed your palms against the door, pushing out your ass towards Bucky until you felt him line his tip up to your entrance. In one swift move, Bucky bottomed out and didn’t give you enough time to adjust.

It was fast and violent, the way Bucky fucked you inside that stall. Both of you were too caught up in the pleasure to even hear the commotion happening outside.

“Not gonna last long, Bucky...” you whimpered, feeling your legs tremble.

You’d been on edge the entire time, having been denied your orgasm earlier. And Bucky kept on squeezing your thigh teasingly during dinner, palm always inching higher until it settled close to your bare mound.

Of course, you wouldn’t last long!

“I know, baby.” Bucky said, sucking the skin on your exposed shoulder as he continued to fuck you from behind.

Once done with the sex escapade, the both of you were welcomed by the restaurant’s manager with a disapproving (and scarred) look on his face.

You blushed at the memory, “Let’s not do that again, please?” You said.

Bucky laughed, “Fine, fine. But dinner tomorrow, okay?”

You yawned at the same time you hummed, “Just dinner.”

“Wholesome dinner.” He confirmed. “Alright, I’m done with work. Sleep now, baby.” He cooed and you nodded even though Bucky couldn’t see you.

You heard footsteps and then the sound of the door closing shut.

“Good night, baby.”

“Hmm, good night, Bucky.”

-

To say you were giddy the next day was an understatement. You were on cloud nine after having a phone conversation with Bucky last night. You even greeted Janet the snitch a very good morning when you shared the elevator with her.

You entered your floor and offered everyone a smile, but you also noticed that they seemed to be preoccupied talking to each other.

“What’s up?” You asked Martha and the other girls who were huddled together.

“Haven’t you heard?” She asked. “Sophia shared an elevator ride with Mister Barnes earlier. He called a flower shop, asked for their most expensive bouquet and then went on to make dinner reservations at an elite restaurant!”

You paled at the discovery and cleared your throat, “And that’s a big deal because?”

Martha snickered, “Girl, we’re talking about James Barnes here, a rich and eligible bachelor. It is a big deal. And ugh, I wonder who the lucky lady is! What I’d do to be her.” Martha dreamily said.

“Do you think it’s an employee here? Fuck, I’d be so envious if that girl happens to be working here!” Sophia added.

“Is that even allowed? Sounds pretty scandalous to me.” Kate chimed in.

“Oh my god. Remember the pantry incident that Janet reported? What if that was Mister Barnes and his girl? Damn, that’s juicy. It’d be horrifying if they get caught.” Kate added.

Your head felt light-headed at all the information that was going on. Hearing their conversations felt like a bucket of iced water was being poured on you. It was like a moment of a major realization.

Shit, what has gotten into you, getting all tangled up in this mess? Damn you, Tinder!

Even if Bucky agreed to take things slow, you realized that it wouldn’t really help. If news got out that you were dating the CEO of your company, you’d still receive some backlash for it.

Maybe making it official wasn’t the right thing to do. At least, not yet.

“Ladies, gossip time is over.” You announced and tried to stay calm. “And speaking of Barnes, I need to submit a report.”

-

You nervously knocked on Bucky’s door, hoping that he was back from his early morning meeting. You could hear him talking inside and thought that maybe he was busy.

“Come in.” He called before you could even turn around.

Slowly, you opened the door and slipped inside his office. Bucky was on his chair, talking to someone over the phone. When he saw that it was you, he quickly put his phone on mute and smiled.

“Yes, baby? What do you need?” He asked softly.

Goddammit! Bucky was surely getting used to that pet name. Initially, he’d only call you that in the throes of pleasure. But somehow, Bucky began to use it so casually that it made you nervous. What if he slipped and called you that during a meeting, in front of everyone?

You hated how Bucky was becoming soft and gentle around you, well, except maybe when he was in a certain mood. It was confusing the hell out of you. But you also enjoyed being the only one to witness his soft side.

Was his offer to make things official because he truly liked you or was the fucking that good to make him want to commit all of a sudden?

“I uhh, I think I’ll just come back later if you’re busy.” You stammered.

Bucky held up a finger and then unmuted his phone, “Hey, something important came up. I’ll call you again later.” He said and quickly ended the call before turning to you.

“You know I’m never too busy for you.” He said, his eyes the softest you’d ever seen.

There goes your heart.

“I think...” you trailed, not sure how you were going to say it.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you, urging for you to continue. You heaved out a deep sigh. Your hands balled into fists at your side as you walked closer to his desk.

“Can we raincheck on the dinner tonight?” You asked.

Bucky frowned, “Why?”

You shrugged, “No reason.”

“Lie to me one more time and I’ll have you on my lap for some spanking.”

How the hell does Bucky do that? Become all sweet and soft and then rough and dominating all of a sudden?!

You squeezed your thighs together because the image of Bucky’s hand landing on your ass was doing things to you. You willed yourself not to give in, you came here for a reason.

“There are rumors about you. Someone heard you making dinner reservations and now everyone’s talking about it. I just...” you paused to check Bucky’s reaction but as usual, you couldn’t read his face.

“Maybe making this official isn’t...the right thing to do.”

Bucky pushed himself up from the chair slowly and stalked towards you. Was he mad? Fuck, you hoped he wasn’t. When he reached you, his hand came up to brush your cheek with his knuckles.

“What do you want then?” He asked.

Shit, you never actually thought about it. What do you want? Keep things casual between you and Bucky? Completely stop whatever it was that was going on between the two of you?

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“I like you.” Bucky stated and stepped back. “You’re intelligent and you don’t take shit from anyone, myself included. When you said you wanted to take things slow, I agreed to it. Hence, the flowers and dinner. Now that I’m giving it to you, you still don’t want it.”

Bucky’s livid. He was composed but the way his jaw tensed as he spoke was enough proof that he was mad, really mad. It’s his calm demeanor despite being angry that somehow scared you. The calm before the storm. What the storm was going to be? You didn’t know and honestly, you weren’t sure whether it was something that you even want to find out.

Maybe you were being confusing or indecisive but only because things happened too quickly for you to even properly process it. To think that you addressed your concerns last night, you actually that Bucky understood where your feelings were stemming from. However, it seemed to have gone over his head.

“Bucky, I don’t think you’re getting my point here.” You explained, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“If you heard what your employees have been saying about you and your...girl, you’d understand.” You said and placed your hands on your hips.

Bucky made a face, “Then make me understand. What did you hear?” he asked.

“We already talked about this last night! They’d think that the promotion was given to me because we fucked! That’s going to taint my image for the rest of my life.” You huffed out.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand as he paced back and forth, “They’re idiots if they think of that. What do you want me to do? Give a detailed presentation why I decided to promote you? Go through your evaluation one by one? He sarcastically said.

“Oh my god, Bucky. You really don’t get it, do you?” You let out a humorless laugh.

He shrugged, “You’re confusing the hell out of me. Just tell me what the hell you want to happen.”

“Maybe I just want keep things professional.” You blurted out in the spur of the moment.

You didn’t mean it. You so didn’t mean it. Fuck. You word vomitted and now you were going to regret it.

Something in Bucky ticked, you saw it. He approached you until he was towering over your frame. It was intimidating to say the least, the way Bucky stared down at you with a blank expression on his face.

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky asked, his eyes looking down at your lips for a quick second before moving back up to your eyes.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.” you retorted and you’re not sure why.

Bucky exhaled through his nose and this time, you could read his face. He was fuming.

“I told you, you’re mine.” He said through gritted teeth.

The tension in the air was thick. The close proximity was making you dizzy, Bucky was so close that his scent was invading your senses. His jaw was clenched tightly as he looked down at you with piercing eyes and you were so tempted to just grab his face and kiss him and tell him that you liked him too.

But of course, your pride just had to be in the way.

“You don’t own me, Bucky. I am my own person.”

Another word vomit. You were Bucky’s the moment he laid his hands on you and you liked it.

Bucky inhaled and shrugged, loosening up before taking a step back. “So you want to keep it professional, huh?”

No.

“Yes.”

Bucky nodded, “You’re lying. I know you are. But okay then, professional it is. Let’s see how long you can keep lying to yourself.”

You watched Bucky walk back to his desk, sitting down on his chair with his arms crossed over his wide chest. His face was void of any emotion all of a sudden, he didn’t even look angry anymore and you hated how you couldn’t seem to figure him out.

“Anything else you’d like to discuss?” he asked, the professional tone of his voice sending chills down your spine, but not in a good way.

You slightly nodded, placing a folder on top of his desk before backing away. “It’s this month’s report.”

“Okay. You’re dismissed.” He casually said, grabbing the folder and skimming through your report as if you weren’t standing right in front of him.

You felt a pang of pain hit you right in the heart when he looked up at you questioningly, as if he was wondering why the fuck you still haven’t left his office. At that moment, you wanted to take back all the things you said and just give in to your damn feelings.

But would you really let your career nosedive just to be with Bucky? You weren’t sure if you were ready for that.

You straightened up and maintained a calm demeanor, “That’s all. Thanks, Bucky.”

“That’s Mister Barnes for you.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky​

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[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

A Cozy Evening

Word count: 2800

Warnings: just a sticky sweet little fluff bomb for you all to enjoy 😉

You were all going to have to wait for this til tomorrow but @writingfics-passingtime is just good at striking a deal to get things early so… here it is! A nice bit of fluff to contrast the ruthlessness she’s posting 🙃

This is part 3 to An Embarrassing Secret, as requested by @sweetxnertickle - I hope you enjoy!

Thank you to those who submitted plot ideas! I went from zero ideas to too many ideas, so now it looks like I'm going to have to continue this multi-part fic for a little longer

Read first: Part 1 An Embarrassing Secret, Part 2 A Difficult Question

Movie nights were quite common in the Avengers tower. It was a great way to bond with the team, gathering everyone in the same room for something other than saving the world from certain doom. Sure, the team did other fun group activities together from time to time, but there was just something so cozy and homely about curling up on the couch with a blanket in your pajamas and watching a movie while trying to stay awake.

It was also a great excuse to sit close to Loki.

You were feeling a little extra cozy tonight, putting on your favorite pajama shorts and t-shirt and wrapping yourself in the fluffiest fleece blanket you owned. Thrown around your shoulders, the edge of the blanket just barely grazed the floor as you walked. The fabric was soft as it brushed against the bare skin of your calves.

Maybe you’d been feeling a bit touch-starved the last few days. It had been a few weeks since you’d worked up the courage to ask Loki to tickle you (or, rather, he’d forced your hand, so you’d have no choice but to ask. The audacity.) Since then, you hadn’t really had the opportunity to physically be close to anyone. Sure, there was the occasional high-five after a skilled move on a mission, or after a successful sparring match, but outside of those moments you pretty much kept to yourself. It wasn’t in your nature to ask for affection, even when you craved it. So, you did the next best thing, and surrounded yourself with soft, fluffy fabric.

You were disappointed to find that Loki hadn’t arrived yet in the common room when you headed in to find your seat. Usually, you tried to time your arrival so you would get there just after he sat down so you could conveniently choose the seat next to him. Now, you had to rely on him wanting to sit with you; or, at least, you had to hope there were no other seats left in the room by the time he arrived. The god had you feeling like you were back in high school crushing on a schoolmate – it was both a terrifying and giddy feeling.

Choosing a spot on the open two-seat sofa, you lay down on your side with your head resting on the arm and stretched your legs across the cushions. If someone asked you seriously to make space, you knew you would do it without hesitation, but you’d be dreadfully disappointed that you weren’t sitting with Loki. Each time someone new walked in the door, you held your breath, hoping they would find somewhere else to sit. You were so focused on making sure no one besides Loki sat with you that you didn’t actually notice when the lanky, dark-haired Asgardian himself strode into the room.

“Move.”

You looked up to see Loki hovering over you, waiting expectantly for you to move your legs to make space for him to sit. Glancing around, you noticed there were still a couple other seats open, which made your heart flutter. He actually wanted to sit with you, he chose to sit with you. But maybe you wanted to push his buttons a little bit.

“Not until you ask nicely,” you bargained, smirking. His eyes flashed, a slight upward curling to the corner of his lips.

“Move, or else.”

You feigned a gasp, stretching your legs out a bit more. “So rude! You’re not making me feel very generous, Loki.”

The look he gave you next made your stomach flip. The intense, mischievous eyes… the barely-there smirk… you knew you were in trouble the moment the words left your mouth.

“Move, or I’ll make you.”

Becoming a bit flustered already, you pulled your blanket up over your mouth and nose to hide your boiling cheeks and shook your head, holding your ground. He looked down at you with an expression of pity.

The logical thing would have been for him to move your legs. Clearly it would be no trouble to him, with his godly strength. But when you tried to cross Loki, he had to make a statement. So, instead, he reached down and lifted you effortlessly by the shoulders, forcing you to sit up enough so he could slide into the seat where your upper body was previously positioned. You scrambled to sit up all the way, feeling very shy at the idea of laying your head in his lap, but as you shifted he snaked an arm around your waist and tugged you toward him to lean with your back against his side and chest. He grasped the corner of the blanket closest to him, dragging it across to steal some for himself. It was large enough to cover you both, so long as you kept your knees slightly bent.

“Comfortable?” he asked teasingly, his lips startlingly close to your ear.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded stiffly. Your face was on fire now, more than a little bit flustered at the position you were in now. Loki’s arm was still wrapped around you, his hand resting on the side of your belly beneath the blanket. It would have been incredibly comfortable, if it weren’t for your anxiety brain telling you that you couldn’t relax too heavily into him, or hewould be uncomfortable.

The lights turned off, the screen turned on and a film began to play on the television. The room fell silent, save for the sounds of the music playing over the opening credits. A few strands of your hair shifted with every rise and fall of Loki’s chest behind you, his soft breath fanning over your forehead.

“Are you certain you’re comfortable?” he whispered suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re quite stiff.” If you could see his face from where you were leaning against him, you’d have noticed the glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. “Maybe you just need some assistance.”

You let out a soft gasp when you felt his fingers suddenly graze against your side, tracing random patterns against your t-shirt. Your hand instinctively darted to grasp his tickling fingers, but you quickly released them with a rush of heat to your face.

“Loki!” you hissed.

“Yes? What is it?” His fingers began to sweep along your side again, maddeningly gentle. You bit your bottom lip, shifting a little to lean more heavily into him.

“Ok, I-I’m relaxed now,” you insisted.

“Oh, but I’m not finished yet.” His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, curling up underneath it to ghost along the skin of your belly just above your hips. Barely withholding a shriek, you reached up to pull the blanket up over your nose again, clamping a hand over your own mouth.

His soft, barely-there touch was agonizing. Making things worse, you had to fight to hold in your laughter and squirming to prevent the others from realizing what he was doing to you. At best, they’d realize he was tickling you beneath the blanket, and they’d tease you for it later. At worst, they’d think… well, their minds may stray elsewhere. Neither option was one you were willing to risk. But gods, if it didn’t make every swipe of his fingers tickle ten times more knowing you had to try not to react to his touch.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, this was exactly what you needed to cure your touch-starved mood.

It was quite the dilemma you were in. Allow him to continue with this sweet torture and risk your reactions giving something away to the others. Or, tell him to stop and feel the inevitable sense of loss when he obliged. The choice was obvious – you had to risk it.

When his fingers traveled up to the skin in the middle of your belly, right above your bellybutton, you began to reconsider your life choices.

Your abdomen twitched helplessly under his fingers, shoulders shaking in silent, breathy laughter. A sudden burst of air from his nose told you he was enjoying himself, laughing as he tore you to pieces with the mere flick of his fingertips against your bare skin. You weren’t even sure what movie they’d put on, and you didn’t care. The only thought in your brain right now was trying to contain your reactions despite your desperate desire to giggle out loud.

“P-please,” you whispered in desperation.

“Please what?”

“M-move s-somewhere e-else,” you pleaded.

“Alright.” You let out a slow breath as he slipped his hand out from beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your reprieve was short-lived, though, as his fingers wrapped around your side and began lightly pinching and kneading rapidly. You couldn’t help but let out the tiniest of squeals, moving your other hand on top of the first to cover your mouth with both hands. “What’s wrong, love? You’re awfully jittery this evening.”

You couldn’t curse at him with your hands over your mouth, so instead you reached out with one hand to grasp his forearm and squeezed, trying to distract yourself from the agonizing sensation.

“Oh – I’m sorry, does this tickle?” he whispered in your ear. You turned your head slightly to throw a wide-eyed glare in his direction, startling yourself with the proximity of his face to yours. He responded with a widening smirk, his fingers beginning to ascend toward your ribcage. Shaking your head wildly, you pushed down against his forearm, trying to prevent his tickling fingers from crawling any higher. “Why are you fighting this? I thought you liked it.”

“Loki-eep!” you lowered your hand from your mouth for only a second to scold him, jolting when his other hand slipped beneath the blanket and latched on to your other side. Luckily your squeak was hidden beneath a sudden surge of volume in the music in the movie. Something important must be happening. No matter, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Flustering you first by pulling you in close and then tickling you senseless to top it all off. Maybe he had noticed you fading into yourself a bit more these days, rubbing a hand along your own shoulder or resting your hand on your knee absentmindedly while sitting by yourself. It was likely that you, yourself didn’t even realize what you were doing. But Loki was perceptive, especially when it came to you. And if he was being honest with himself, he needed the closeness as much as you did tonight. He’d have been satisfied just to hold you in his arms, but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t relish in the feeling of you squirming under his fingers, cuddling in closer to him as a result. And the fact that you enjoyed it as much as he did made it all the more fun.

Feeling your silent, shaking laughter against his side, he let his fingers rest along your ribcage, adding a bit of weight to his touch to avoid tickling you. You took in long, slow, deep breaths, trying not to gasp in air and resultantly make a loud noise. Glancing around anxiously, you didn’t see anyone looking inquisitively in your direction. Good – you didn’t want to have to answer any awkward questions from your teammates later.

Gradually, your breathing shallowed to a more normal respiratory pattern. Still, Loki’s fingers rested heavily on your sides, unmoving. You shifted a bit to lean more firmly into his side, hoping he’d take the hint that you had recovered enough to start again. You were keenly aware of the location of each of his fingers along your ribcage, waiting with bated breath for them to suddenly spring into action and start scratching between your ribs again.

If there was one thing you should have learned about Loki by now, it was that he enjoyed teasing you. He knew what you wanted. But you were going to have to find a way to ask for it.

Releasing a short huff of frustration, you tilted your head backward to look up at the dark-haired Asgardian who had made himself your pillow for the evening. You could barely make out his features by the glow of the TV screen, the light dancing across his face as the movie continued to play. He glanced down at you when he realized you were looking at him. You softened your eyes, jutting your bottom lip out the slightest bit. He let out a breath of a laugh through his nose at pouting expression, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a look that asked what you wanted without words. You frowned, brow furrowed, trying to will him to just read your mind. He shrugged, letting his expression harden and feigning ignorance as he turned to look at the TV screen once again.

Suppressing the urge to whine, you reached your hand up to where his rested on your side, tapping it gently. You saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his hand remained still. You had one last trick up your sleeve, though. You shifted yourself to turn your upper body a bit, allowing that to be a distraction as you moved your hand over to the side you were resting against, latching your thumb and index finger onto his lower ribs and pinching a few times in rapid succession. You weren’t even sure if he was ticklish, but the sudden jolting gave you your answer.

His hand clamped down around your wrist, prying it away from his side as he turned his head to look at you with narrowed eyes, a look that screamed ‘you’re in trouble.’ Your stomach swooped in anxious and excited anticipation.

His grip around your waist tightened, pulling you closer against his side to hide his own vulnerable areas using your back as a shield. He latched both hands on your sides, his long, slender fingers reaching well across your belly, and began to claw into the soft skin through your shirt. It was all you could do to suppress a burst of laughter from exploding from your chest, clamping your hands over your mouth and nose but resultantly leaving your torso unprotected. Apparently you’d succeeded in getting under his skin, because he was no longer trying to go easy on you, thumbs digging into your sides just below your ribs as his four fingers scratched across your belly.

You were glad he at least had mercy enough to not target your weaker spots, because the effort it took to suppress your laughter was making you want to explode. Tears of mirth collected in the corners of your eyes as you let out small, short bursts of air through your nose, shoulders shaking. Loki was precise and unrelenting tonight, continuing to torment that same spot for what felt like an eternity. You finally couldn’t take it any longer, moving one hand away from covering your mouth to push at his hands. Instead of stopping, he merely allowed his hands to slide down a bit to dig into your hips.

In all your years on earth, you’d never been tickled in that specific spot, although you knew supposedly it was terribly sensitive for some. You never imagined you were one of those people.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your eyes grew wide as you arched your back against his devilish touch, pressing the blanket into your face to muffle your tiny screams. His thumbs dug into the spot just above your hipbones while his fingers clawed into the front of your hips, emitting ticklish shocks through your entire torso with every squeeze of his fingers. He chuckled softly at your reaction, easily covered up by a round of laughter from the others as some comedic stunt occurred on screen. You tried to tap out, frantically pushing at his hands with one of your own. He ignored your silent pleas for a few more moments, clearly proud of himself for having made you a giggling, squirming mess in his arms.

Loki, like you, was not interested in answering questions from the other Avengers, and so he finally relented when he realized your struggle was beginning to become more violent. You melted into his side, taking sharp, shallow breaths as you came down from your state of euphoria. It was precious to him, how you collapsed so heavily into his arms after he’d just tormented you. He wrapped his arm around you further and tugged you to sit up a bit more comfortably against his side, resting a firm hand on your belly. You reached over and covered his hand with your own, brushing your thumb along his knuckles. Leaning your head back into his chest, you let out a deep, contented sigh that made his heart skip.

There would be questions after the movie, but not because anyone witnessed the sweet torture Loki had put you through. It was hard not to notice how you’d buried yourself against his side for the entirety of the movie. And, more importantly, it was hard to ignore the foreign, soft smile on Loki’s face.

Part 4: You are Wonderful

[pdalicedraws]

Felt like drawing the coven heads as teenagers as an excuse to come up with some headcanons for them! Obviously they’re not all the same age so they weren’t teenagers at the same time but still.

Obviously Darius and Raine we know about as teens, so they don’t need as much headcanoning, but I think Raine’s parents had a similar vibe to Willow’s in that they pushed them to do well in school and had high standards but also were understanding and wanted them to be happy above all. Darius was close with his father when he was little, but he died young, leaving Darius to be raised by an aunt, who he appreciated but was never as close with. 

Eberwolf. Literally raised by dire wolves. Still thinks clothes are kinda dumb. Is technically a biped demon, since they have a bile sac, but hangs out with beasts so much they can communicate with them much better than people thought was possible. They were found in the woods by the prior beastkeeping head who, unlike other witches they’d bumped into, didn’t try to domesticate or ‘rescue’ them, so they liked her and let her introduce them to society. She became the first beastkeeping head witch to retire peacefully, handing the mantle to Eber, when every prior one had been eaten. 

Mason didn’t figure out he’s a guy til college, a headcanon I believe solely because “Mason” is way too on-the-nose of a name so he definitely picked it after he already knew what he wanted to do with his life. He seems stoic but he’s actually a huge family man and softie at heart, and will do anything for his army of kids and niblings. He went to one of the other, unnamed schools that appear as uniforms in the background of TTB,K. 

Osran has a different number of arms every time you try to count. Most of them are hidden under his robes these days, but back when he was in school uniform most of the time he just kinda. Let them hang out and looked different whenever you blinked. He’s the same type of demon as Kikimora but isn’t related to her. He went to another of the unnamed schools, but ended up teaching at Hexside for a while before becoming Head Witch, and was eternally exasperated with Odalia. 

Graye was a Glandus kid, and illusionists have a notoriously rough time at Glandus. He’s a quarter demon, and has a ton of older siblings, most of whom don’t have as many demonic features as he does, none of whom wanted to associate with him at school. He was bullied horribly until he snapped and started fighting back physically rather than trying to use his magic for it, and at that point gained a reputation as a merciless little shit who would break noses and stamp on insteps and bite ears. He really, really loves having authority. 

Terra also went to one of the unnamed schools, and she’s always been like this. She’s always been scary. Even her parents were probably afraid of her. At one point I made a joke about the reason she uses Venus flytraps all the time being because her late wife was named Venus Flytrap and she does it in her honour, but I don’t think it’s a joke anymore. Her wife was just as scary as she was. Either one of them would have sold the other out for a corn chip, and that’s exactly how they both liked it. 

Hettie is a St Epiderm graduate, and rumours have followed her her entire life about her intentionally injuring and infecting people in order to test out new treatments. Those rumours are entirely true, but good luck ever proving it. Can’t cook for shit, and is incredibly private about her home life; even her classmates never saw her be picked up by parents or anything. 

Vitimir is another St Epiderm kid, and was shy as hell in school, holing themselves up in the potions dungeon rather than socializing, which endeared them to their teachers but not to their peers. Once they graduated and went to the Potions Coven college, though, they started to come out of their shell; they’re still not enormously sociable but they’re much more comfortable with that fact. Enormously protective of their potions components, which are always perfectly organized, even though the rest of their room is always a mess. Both their moms have wings, and they didn’t inherit them, and they’re a little grouchy about it. 

[hd-wireless]

🎶 HD Wireless 2021 Reveals! 🎶

TAKE A BOW, CREATORS!! 

The day has finally come, and we can’t wait for everyone to see who created all the wonderful Wireless works that we had the privilege to present to you this year!!

Before we do that, the results of our Guessing Game! The winner, with 43 correct guesses (which gave her 260 points - please don’t question our scoring system) was @sweet-s0rr0w!! Kudos to your super-sleuthing and powers of recognition!!

All the wonderful authors, artists and podficcers who took part this year can be found below the cut. As the mods, we want to extend our thanks to every single talented one of them. Please show them all your love and appreciation!!

🎶 H/D Wireless Animatic and Fic 🎶

📻 rather a lover than a fighter [T, 15k] ✒️ Author and Artist: @parkkate & aceveria / @aceveria-art

🎵 Summary: When Harry loses his voice and his magic, it’s up to Healer Draco to save the day.

🎶 H/D Wireless Art 🎶

📻 The Road to Somewhere [T] 🖌️ Artist: @rainsoakedhello 🎵 Art medium: Digital Art

🎵 Summary: In the end, all roads lead home.

📻 Don't care what they say (I would be stupid to be not on it) [Gen] 🖌️ Artist: @digthewriter 🎵 Art medium: Digital. Photoshop.

🎵 Summary: Harry finally has a chance with Draco and he's not gonna let it go.

📻 Start Over Again [Gen] 🖌️ Artist: milkandhoney / @fictional 🎵 Art medium: Digital Art

🎵 Summary: Do you feel like a chainstore? Or in which one is Graham Coxon and one is Damon Albarn.

📻 Down for What You Want [Teen] 🖌️ Artist: @sugareey 🎵 Art medium: Digital

🎵 Summary: After the war, finding refuge in the clubs of Muggle London is easier than dealing with the shambles of the wizarding world. When Harry and Draco keep running into each other at Apollo's every Saturday night though, they follow their gut instincts to get on the dance floor and discover something they both have been craving for a long time.

📻 What do I do? With a Love That Won’t Sit Still [Gen] 🖌️ Artist: @cambiodipolvere 🎵 Art medium: traditional (graphite)

🎵 Summary: Italian Greyhounds are small and fucked up, but Draco is a big fuck up and that requires scaling.

🎶 H/D Wireless Art and Fic 🎶

📻 A Halo of Fairy Orbs [E, 20.6k] 🖌️✒️ Author and Artist: vivi1138 / @penguinanimagus & Fae_vorite / @faevorite-main-blog 🎵 Art medium: digital art

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy has been dead for fifteen years, but the Black Family tapestry doesn’t agree. Upon returning from long years abroad, Harry discovers that his old rival might still be alive, and his revived obsession leads him to Malfoy Manor. There’s a mystery to solve, and Harry is chasing a thrill he hasn’t felt since sixth year. He needs to know.

📻 Oh, Sinnerman [E, 40k] 🖌️✒️ Author and Artist: @lou-isfake and @babooshkart 🎵 Art medium: digital

🎵 Summary: “I’m serious, Potter,” Malfoy said quietly. “That was some real bad luck you had, being there last night. They will come after you, and they will kill you—after torturing you for information on my whereabouts.” He pocketed Harry’s wand, but held on to his knife, twirling it between his fingers. Harry was distracted by its movement, the reflections of the bright, dawning sun on polished silver. “I’m not happy about it, either, but you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” He watched Malfoy’s face for a long time, in a staring contest he wasn’t sure he’d signed up for. Stuck with Malfoy, for the foreseeable future, on the run from a massive crime syndicate that had infiltrated the Ministry and was out for their blood. It was all very familiar, except for the Malfoy part.  

📻 The Crane Lord of Gringotts [E, 31.1k] 🖌️✒️ Author and Artist: @vukovich and @crazybutgood 🎵 Art medium: Origami, photography

🎵 Summary: Harry is fine. Being an Auror is fine. Living with Ginny is fine. It's all fine. But it used to be a lot better.

📻 The World Is A Violent Sky [E, 60k] 🖌️✒️ Author/Artist: writingsbydestiny / @starlitsilvereyes 🎵 Art medium: Digital Art

🎵 Summary: Harry Potter wants to die; Draco Malfoy wants to live — a story of life and death, everything in between and beyond — in the form of scatters of love and hurt like freckles of stars forming into constellations. — Alternative Summary (And Significantly Less Poetic): Four years after the war, Harry remains grief-stricken. In an attempt to discover the parts of him that haven’t died in the Forbidden Forest, he drops off the face of Scotland to travel the world by himself. Along the way, he finds his old enemy, Draco Malfoy, in a Muggle country, looking positively dashing even with a slash of scar decorating his face. As always, Harry’s curiosity leads him to (un)fortunate places.

📻 The Stars Have Courage [M, 85k] 🖌️✒️ Author/Artist: @fantalf 🎵  Art medium: Digital painting

🎵 Summary: Draco can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. He can’t hear anything besides the buzzing in his ears. The walls are closing in. The world becomes smaller, narrowing itself to the pain in his chest, and it becomes the only thing that makes sense. He tries to cry. Maybe he is crying, but there are no tears anymore. Luna’s words echo endlessly in his brain. Harry doesn’t remember. Harry doesn’t love Draco. Repeating ceaselessly. Infinite, Harry used to say. No. No. No. Draco can’t lose him again. But he doesn’t know who you are now. He doesn’t love you. He hates you. You are no one. His world turns into an overwhelming pain. And that pain is all that he is. — Draco waited five long years to watch his husband wake up from a coma. He's not ready to meet a Harry with no memory of anything that happened after he died at The Battle of Hogwarts, twelve years ago.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic Collab 🎶

📻 'Til Your World Burns [E, 25.3k] ✒️ 🖋️Authors: @ladderofyears and @iero0

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy is raped and watches as his world falls apart. Harry Potter is the quiet, unassuming wizard who finally listens to him.

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 Inside These Walls [M, 5.6k] 🖋️ Author: @jackvbriefs

🎵 Summary: The year before Draco moves to Los Angeles, Harry Potter disappears. Draco doesn't mean to find him. He's just doing his job.

📻 Drive a Little Slower [Gen, 1.6k] 🖋️ Author: bluefay / @thesleepiesthufflepuff

🎵 Summary: He silently willed Harry to drive a little slower. To let him pretend a little longer.

📻 Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon [T, 16k] 🖋️ Author: thestarryknight / @the-starryknight

🎵 Summary: The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

📻 Two Starts, One Finish [E, 5.5k] 🖋️ Author: @lqtraintracks

🎵 Summary: I feel him before I see him. Nobody stands this close to me while I’m playing, and I’m about to turn to tell him so when he says, “You’re a tough bloke to track down,” and then leans against my baby grand.

📻 Never Gonna Give You Up [E, 5k] 🖋️ Author: InnerLilith

🎵 Summary: Five times Harry rickrolls Draco, and one time Draco gets him back.

📻 Alone Together [T, 3k] 🖋️ Author: @iero0

🎵 Summary: He felt like a spectre, roaming the treeless grounds, the deserted streets of Hogsmeade. It was only the train station—of course it was, Harry thinks—that harboured another sleepless soul that night. They were found as though they had been looking for one another; freezing to the ground at the sight of an unmistakable silhouette in the distance, before wordlessly meeting on the platform. They stood there, side by side, faces to the sky.

📻 Nothing Left to Burn [E, 5,1] 🖋️ Author: skeptique / @skeptiquewrites​

🎵 Summary: Over ten years after their fling crashed and burned, Harry runs into Draco and finds embers still burning bright. Sometimes your ex-lover is (metaphorically) dead. And sometimes it's summertime in Montreal and the past won't let go.

📻 The Isle of Discussion [E, 21.6k] 🖋️ Author: @shealwaysreads

🎵 Summary: Harry and Draco arrive at the shores of Loch Leven to record the magical history of the land. They’re friends now, but up there in the Highlands, amidst the trees and sky and that wild expanse of water their own past is more present than ever; a gap they still can’t bridge. Magic illuminates the truth, but it is Harry and Draco who have to speak it. Happily, it turns out that honesty is, in fact, the best policy.

📻 (You Should Have Been My) High School Lover [T, 3.9k] 🖋️ Authort: @aprofessionalprotagonist

🎵 Summary: After years of carefully avoiding running into Harry Potter, Pansy tricks Draco into attending a party at Grimmauld Place. How is he supposed to deal with a very attractive Potter trying to talk to him?

📻 Both Hands [E, 10.4] 🖋️ Author: @sweet-s0rr0w

🎵 Summary: It’s been over a decade since Draco packed up his belongings and left, and Harry’s doing just fine. Really, he is. So when he spots the For Sale sign outside their old flat, he doesn’t think twice about arranging a viewing. Curiosity is only natural, right? And what harm can come from a quick trip down memory lane?

📻 His favourite piece of art [E, 1.3k] 🖋️ Author: @gnarf

🎵 Summary: Six years after Malfoy had left, Harry suddenly spotted him on the dancefloor of a Muggle club in London. He couldn't let this opportunity slip…

📻 I'll Try to Keep the Walls From Falling Down [M, 14.9k] 🖋️ Author: @drarrelie

🎵 Summary: It’s OK. Love is only meant for some; Harry knows that. Besides, he wouldn’t want to risk this new, amazing friendship he has going on with Draco for anything in the world. Keeping his walls from falling down is the least he can do.

📻 Learn to Fly [T, 11k] 🖋️ Author: @janieohio

🎵 Summary: Harry’s suffocating under all the expectations of the wizarding world, but he’s fascinated at Malfoy’s sudden ability to flaunt his true self to whoever cares to watch. And Harry? He might like to do something more than watch if he can ever get up the nerve.

📻 Restless Dreams (Stay With Me) [T, 5.5k] 🖋️ Author: wanderingeyre

🎵 Summary: At first, Draco thinks the common room is empty, but then he sees Potter sitting on the floor, back to the wall on the far side of the fireplace. His head is thrown back, exposing the brown column of his throat. The curl of his hair looks soft in the firelight. Potter’s glasses are off and there are tracks where tears have wet his cheeks. He looks naked in a way that stabs at Draco, right between the ribs where everything is already bruised.

📻 Letters From Home [T, 1.1k] 🖋️ Author: @articcat621

 🎵 Summary: Writing to each other is all that's getting them through this war.

📻 so lie to me tonight [T, 5.3k] 🖋️ Author: M0stlyVoid / @bonesliketambourines

🎵 Summary: Ginny thought it would be different, after.

📻 Mortal Frame [M, 6.6k] 🖋️ Author: tackytiger / @tackytigerfic

🎵 Summary: Draco’s on a mission, and this time it's personal. But it's not easy to track down something that no one wants to talk about, especially when Harry Potter keeps popping up everywhere Draco goes. Though at least he’s on Draco’s side this time, and if he happens to be useful, and kind, and great in bed—well, Draco’s not exactly complaining. The story of three pubs, one Horcrux, four overpriced sandwiches, and two damaged men just trying to make sure that Bellatrix Lestrange stays dead.

📻 Prologue [T, 4.5k] 🖋️ Author: adavison / @aedwritesfic

🎵 Summary: Ten years after the war, Harry stumbles across Malfoy in a Muggle club. What could have been an awkward encounter might just be a new beginning.

📻 A Care To Fill The Vessel Of Your Heart [M, 2.5k] 🖋️ Author: @onbeinganangel

🎵 Summary: Draco doesn’t care for atonement. Why should he? Forgetting is easier than forgiving. Or it would be, if fate just left him to his own devices. Fate, as per usual, has its own plans.

📻 Like a Dream I Can Reach (but not quite hold) [M, 19.4k] 🖋️ Author: Cassiara / @cassiaratheslytherpuff

🎵 Summary: Harry spends his life waiting for something he isn’t entirely sure he wants, and looking for something he doesn’t know exists. Everything feels ill-fitting until Draco Malfoy enters his life and shows Harry he doesn’t have to want the expected things, and Harry learns happiness doesn't have to look a certain way.

📻 Sun and Rain [M, 4.7k]

🖋️ Author: @isamijoo 

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy thinks that being in a relationship with Harry Potter is anything but easy, but then again, what's the sun without the rain?

📻 In Pursuit of Lost Marbles [T, 22k] 🖋️ Author:  Theartfulldodger / @graymatters 

🎵 Summary: Every night after work, Healer Malfoy follows the same routine, beginning with a familiar flight of stairs that leads to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. With an air of professionalism, he introduces himself to Harry, his husband of seven years, when a memory curse makes Harry look at him like a stranger. He tries not to flinch when Harry calls him sir, but he smiles when bits of the old Harry emerge. Eventually, Draco leads Harry to the Pensieve where he shows him pieces of the life they've built together, what Harry will come home to, one day, when this is all over. Then, Draco waits. He waits, and he hopes.

📻 Requiem [T, 1.8k] 🖋️ Author: EvAEleanor / @evaeleanor

🎵 Summary: Requiem — A song of mourning composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person.

📻 Changes With The Moon [Gen, 1.6k] 🖋️ Author: @missdrarrydawn

🎵 Summary: Draco takes a stroll to try to settle his turbulent thoughts, plagued by who he was, who he is and who he could be. A friend offers him a whole new world and Draco struggles with the idea, for there is too much at stake, it isn't worth it. Or—is it?

📻 Chasing Dragons [E, 89.9k] 🖋️ Author: The_Sinking_Ship / @the-sinking-ship

🎵 Summary: Draco can think of only one way to outclass his pleat-front-khaki-wearing politician ex, and that’s by making headlines with an obvious upgrade. And who better to upstage the cheating bastard than the Saviour of the World, Harry Potter himself? Sure, Potter is a little rough around the edges in ripped jeans, a rumpled tartan shirt, and a permanent scowl. Draco reckons a haircut and a shave wouldn’t hurt, either. But Potter is also in need of a Healer willing to keep his secrets, and Draco is just the man for the job. It’s a perfectly reasonable exchange. They need only attend a couple parties arm-in-arm, smile nicely for the paparazzi, and tolerate each other long enough to convince everyone they’re smitten. In return, Draco will keep Potter alive and in one piece. But it isn’t long before Draco realises he might be in over his head, because Potter is ten tonnes of trouble packed into a leather jacket, and seems keen on hurtling himself towards death on the back of a flying motorbike. And that says nothing of Potter’s penchant for fire-breathing beasts and things that bite. Ah well, at least they’ll have some fun while it lasts. After all, Draco always did like a bit of danger.

📻 Drive, Draco [M, 2.4k] 🖋️ Author: Erebeus / @erebeus-roxy

🎵 Summary: got my driver’s license today, but you're not around to see. Can't drive past the places we used to go to 'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

📻 Fire [E, 10k] 🖋️ Author: GallifreyisBurning / @gallifrey1sburning

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy has never had trouble getting boyfriends. The problem is getting one that doesn’t leave him feeling cold after the first few months. He’s looking for something specific: passion, excitement, someone to keep him on his toes. He just doesn’t know how to go about finding it. After kicking his latest boyfriend to the curb, Draco’s at a loss for what to do next, until it occurs to him that a relationship with his fiery (and hot) Gryffindor colleague might not burn out so quickly—if he can just convince Harry to try it.

📻 Into the Unknown [M, 4.5k] 🖋️ Author: @drarrelie

🎵 Summary: It’s been echoing within him for months, like an annoying song that gets stuck in your head and refuses to let go. A nagging feeling in his core, telling him to say something, to do something, to go somewhere. Last night it finally happened. He did it. And it felt good; right. “I can’t be sure.” Four words, easy as that. It had been almost impossible to smother the sudden burst of joy rushing through him as that deep-seated urge rejoiced his unexpected act of rebellion. You’d think the Dark Lord’s punishment would’ve taken the exhilaration out of him, but no. Here he is, countless Crucios later, beaten and bruised, and never has the voice sounded this clear. He’s said something. He’s done something. And now he just has to go somewhere. He has no idea where, but he’s certain it will come to him. All he has to do is get out of here, then trust magic to do the rest.

📻 Home is What We Make of It [M, 20.3k] 🖋️ Author: @monsieur-hadrien

🎵 Summary: "There was a blistering draft from the child’s bedroom on the opposite side of the hallway. The door’s handle was icy to the touch as she wrapped her hand around the metal. Unlike the rest of the house, the door gave her resistance in her effort to open it. Unlike the rest of the house, when she opened the door, she couldn’t imagine anyone ever living there. Unlike the rest of the house, there was neither love nor warmth nor any semblance of life that seeped from the rest of the house’s walls. It was cold and hard and chilled her to her bones. She shivered. However, her sense of dread was not just from the cold. Perhaps it was the gaping hole in the wall." Harry and Draco want to start a family, but time loves parallels.

📻 Move, move [M, 9k] 🖋️ Author: @maesterchill

🎵 Summary: She grabbed Harry’s hand, slipping something small into it and pressing his fingers around it. “Dilectio. It’ll cheer you up. Make you feel like dancing.” Harry gaped at her. Drugs. Ginny’s fucking giving me drugs? At Stasis nightclub Ginny does indeed give Harry drugs. But it's all good: Malfoy looks after Harry, and Harry grapples with newfound enlightenments, not to mention a newfound fascination with all things Malfoy—one which persists, even when he finds out what Malfoy's up to.

📻 Euphoria [E, 66k] 🖋️ Author: @iero0

🎵 Summary: Driven by trauma, Harry cuts ties with friends and family. From crowded nightclubs and enthralling live shows, Harry finds himself stumbling into a superficial world where he's lonelier than ever. When even the constant blithe of substance-induced highs can't prevent things from becoming what he ran away from, Draco Malfoy finds Harry. Draco, who’s wearing Muggle jeans and who’s listening to Muggle music and who suggests having a nice little chat on mephedrone. And whose nose crumples beautifully when he laughs. Or: A story about Harry trying to cope with the help of drugs until he finds a new addiction. Draco likes to mend things.

📻 Your House [E, 2.9k] 🖋️ Author: @tontonguetonks

🎵 Summary: Draco tries to serve Harry divorce papers, but Harry isn't home.

📻 Misery Loves Company [E, 22.9k] 🖋️ Author: vivi1138 / @penguinanimagus

🎵 Summary: Stuck in his own head, misunderstood and lonely, Harry would love nothing more than to stay hidden in Grimmauld Place until the end of time. Malfoy won’t let him, and that's just what Harry needs.

📻 You Sexy Thing [E, 10.6k] 🖋️ Author: shortie990

🎵 Summary: As Harry began to tap his foot along to the music, the lights flashed like lightning in the middle of a summer storm, and his eye went straight to the middle of the dance floor. His eyes zoomed in on Draco. The blond looked striking as he moved his slender hips to the soulful beat. Harry watched, captivated as he pressed himself up to Pansy and began to sing to the song.

📻 A Love Story of Less-Than-Epic Proportions [E, 39k] 🖋️ Author: InnerLilith

🎵 Summary: Harry and Draco are just friends. Sure, they work together, and live together, and go to gigs together, and do pretty much everything else together—so what? That’s just what friends do. And Harry has no interest in messing with their friendship. He certainly doesn’t need everyone else constantly meddling, pestering them to just get on with it and get together already. He’s having a hard enough time as it is, trying to come to terms with the fact that he probably isn’t ever going to find love. But who needs love, anyways, when you’ve got a best friend?

📻 Cup of tea, Love? [E, 15.1k] 🖋️ Author: shushu_yaoi_lj / @orange-peony 

🎵 Summary: Things between them are easy, so much easier than Harry expected. The problem is the outside world, which grows increasingly and ridiculously difficult. “We could leave,” Draco suggests. Harry has always wanted to travel.

📻 holemate [E, 18.9k] 🖋️ Author:  @vukovich

🎵 Summary: 'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates So where do we begin? I can finally see you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

📻 Home is Wherever I’m With You [Gen, 2.6k] 🖋️ Author: persephoneapple

🎵 Summary: Harry plans on proposing to Draco tonight, but it takes a Prophet article and a conversation between Draco and Pansy to realise how much Draco means to him.

📻 When the remembering is done [E, 24.8k] 🖋️ Author: Sassy3 / @sassy-sassy3

🎵 Summary: “–and we’ll make sure that you can stay at home as long as possible before it will be too hard to manage,” Potter finished. Draco could only blink, trying to make sense of the words he had heard before and after he zoned out. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I’m sorry, Potter. Why wouldn’t she be able to live at home?” Draco Malfoy leads a quiet life. Sure, he doesn’t really like his job, and he never imagined he’d have to move back in with his parents at the manor, but at least he has his lovely son Scorpius to dote on. The only problem is that it gets… a bit lonely. But when his mother starts behaving strange and forgetful, he finds himself in need of help from the one person he never reconciled with after the war.

📻 If you smile at me again, I may do something stupid [M, 6.9k] 🖋️ Author: @emilattes

🎵 Summary: Draco made his peace with Harry Potter and their failed relationship two years ago. He's happy with his new boyfriend, but when Harry becomes the man Draco needed him to be, he finds it's much harder to ignore their history.

📻 smoke break [E, 4.3k] 🖋️ Author: saltwatergarden / @talkingtravesties

🎵 Summary: The first few times, they hovered a bit; Draco offered wine and they sat there and sipped and made small talk, until finally Potter would snap and say, “this is stupid,” and reach out to pull Draco into a kiss. After a while, they fell into a rhythm. Sometimes Potter would be in a rush, and he’d just throw himself at Draco the second he was through the door. Other times, he seemed intent on torturing Draco with his slow and teasing kisses. Potter rarely stayed the night, typically Flooing home after they were done, and they never went out, or, for that matter, met at Potter’s place. Draco was very aware of what he was to Potter—a convenience—and despite his pride, he accepted it, because he knew it was the most he was ever going to get from Potter, and far more than he deserved.

📻 4th Day of the New Show [M, 6.2k] 🖋️ Author: @meandminniemcg

🎵 Summary: Lucius, freshly released from Azkaban, shows up at Draco's show. And Harry has been nervous all day. How does Draco handle the situation?

📻 I Want More? [E, 10.7k] 🖋️ Author: @drarryismymuse

🎵 Summary: Draco had successfully avoided British wizarding society for eight years, until necessity drove him to attend a swanky Ministry event. A chance encounter at that event sparks a passionate affair that just might change the course of Draco’s entire life.

📻 Until It All Comes Undone [E, 38.5k] 🖋️ Author: @mystickitten42 

🎵 Summary: Following his confrontation with Voldemort, Harry returns from King’s Cross Station completely changed. He wakes up at Privet Drive with no memory of his past, the war or magic. Petunia, widowed and suffering from empty nest syndrome, is only too happy to turn Harry into Dudley 2.0. But something’s not quite right. Plagued by recurring nightmares, Harry can’t help but feel something is missing. A bottle of his cousin’s LSD helps him to forget his worries… Magic may not be real, but the hallucinations and the hot blond he meets all feel pretty magical to Harry. Having turned his back on his family, Draco is determined to start over and do the right thing. But he’s never made good decisions when it comes to Harry Potter. When Potter—presumed dead, but very much alive—unexpectedly returns, Draco will do anything for a second chance. Even if it means pretending not to know who he is…

📻 When the Day Met the Night [M, 5.7k] 🖋️ Author: Albuss

🎵 Summary: When the day met the night, all was golden in the sky. In the middle of summer. The Battle of Hogwarts is through, and Harry, somehow, isn't. Draco isn't either. In rebellion against all they have endured, the two embark on a summer of adventure, seeking an ember of hope in the darkness. What they find is unforgettable.

📻 Born to Drown [M, 3.2k] 🖋️ Author: @floydig

🎵 Summary: Draco drives a Knight Bus in the slums of Paris. Sometimes his passengers remind him of Harry. But Harry left years ago. Now, Harry is married to Ginny, and Draco drives a bus. You laugh. “Sorry, I don't know why I’m laughing. It’s really not funny—your dad being dead and shrivelled.” “Fuck off.” I turn to face you. Your eyes are red, your pupils almost blown. Your skin is grey-tinged and sallow, and you're not the one who’s dead. “Merlin, Potter,” I say, hoarse. “How much bloody Dreamless did you shoot up this time?” “Enough for me to live.” You grin wide. “You want me to be alive, don’t you?” Your raw-bitten lips, your chipped teeth, your fucking mouth. I hate all of them, but really I don’t.

📻 Stop And Stare [T, 36.5k] 🖋️ Author: devilishcries

🎵 Summary: After surviving your everyday war-torn childhood, Harry had found a constant rhythm to his life. The thing is, he didn't quite like it. It was repetitive, dull, and he badly wanted to switch it up. So, when he stumbled upon Draco Malfoy on the verge of committing arson in a muggle library, he proposed a deal neither could refuse. (Well, Malfoy was desperately trying to refuse it. But that wasn't the point!) What he failed to factor in was how pretty Malfoy's hands were. One thing led to another, and suddenly, he was obsessed with the idea of holding them.

📻 Wicked Game [E, 20.9k] 🖋️ Author: @cassiopeiasshadow

🎵 Summary: Harry and Draco fall into a spring that allows them to enter into each other’s dreams - but Harry doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, not at first. Why does he keep seeing Draco having kinky sex with a dream version of Harry? And furthermore, why does he like it? Morpheus’ tail twitched irritably. “I warned you away from the poppies. The blame lies with you.” “Me? Potter’s to blame for this, he’s the one who dragged me out to this miserable -” “You would do well not to insult the home of those whom you ask for help,” said Morpheus coolly, though Harry saw a bit of detached amusement in his expression. Malfoy had no self awareness. It’s adorable how stupid he is, Harry thought, and then caught himself thinking Malfoy was adorable and became deeply troubled. “I’m…” Malfoy closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Sorry. Please - I need advice. I can’t keep him out of my dreams.”

📻 Dedication and Desperation [T, 6.1k] 🖋️ Author: meditationsinemergencies / @meditationswrites

🎵 Summary: Diagnosed with a rare and serious illness, Draco has mostly given up until Harry comes to visit.

📻 Famous [E, 23.9k] 🖋️ Author: fwooshy / @fw00shy

🎵 Summary: It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models. Harry is in the mood for...messy. And Draco Malfoy's looking like a walking disaster in the making.

📻 stitched and sewn [E, 7.9k] 🖋️ Author: @wheezykat

🎵 Summary: Harry shudders, fingertips pulsing against Draco’s thighs. He can feel the sharp, metal edge of Harry’s wedding band digging into his flesh, knows he’ll have a bruise there in the morning, a small imperfection that only he’d be able to see. It’s one of the only marks he’ll vanish, not wanting to think about its implications; the rest he’ll keep for himself. Slowly, Harry relaxes, shoulders sinking, breaths changing their cadence to a new tempo. Resigned, surrendered to this dance they do.

📻 Watch the Castles Burn [E, 21.3k] 🖋️ Author: @moonflower-rose

🎵 Summary: Draco Malfoy knows better than to get involved with Harry Potter. If only someone would have reminded him of that six months sooner, then maybe he wouldn't be in quite such a large mess.

🎶 H/D Wireless Podfic 🎶

📻 Modern Love [E, 61k, 5h29m] 🎙️ Podficcer: @lastontheboat 🖋️ Author: tackytiger

🎵 tackytiger’s original summary: Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is. And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what’s he doing right, that Harry isn’t? Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years. And that’s what starts it all.

📻 [Podfic] How Can I Live Without You? [Gen, 2.2k, 15min 29sec] 🎙️ Podficcer: Static_Whisper 🖋️ Author: ununquadius

🎵 ununquadius’ original summary: After Draco's death, Harry wonders how can he live without the one he loves when he's so far away.

📻 [Podfic] Keep Holding On [M, 33.3k, 3hrs 37min] 🎙️ Podficcer: @thunder-of-dragons 🖋️ Author: gnarf

🎵 gnarf’s original summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry and Draco both fall into their own battles with their mental states. Draco is sent to Azkaban, and Harry turns to drinking, hoping to forget. Months later, Harry visits St Mungo’s new ward on the request of a friend, only to find Draco in a deep vegetative state. Not willing to give him up, Harry stays by his side, while simultaneously dealing with the Ministry's newest grand idea to make everything worse. Making new allies, and losing old ones along the way, will hopefully be worth it in the end.

📻 [Podfic] Kill, Fuck, Marry [E, 12.7k, 1:27:55] 🎙️ Podficcer: @timothysboxers  🖋️ Author: lettersbyelise 

🎵 lettersbyelise’s original summary: Malfoy leans toward him with a baleful look. “I do believe Pansy Parkinson, my best friend, paid you to spend the evening with me. It’s my birthday, Potter. So you’re going to get off your Gryffindor arse, and you’re going to dance with me. I want to dance. I want to win. I want that bloody trophy on my shelf before the end of the night.” Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.

📻 [Podfic] You Still Look Like a Movie / You Still Sound Like a Song [T, 3.2k, 19:43 min] 🎙️ Podficcer: bluedreaming / @blue--dreaming 🖋️ Author: shilo1364

🎵 shilo1364’s original summary: Harry Potter doesn't want to attend his ten-year Hogwarts Reunion Ball. He doesn't want to dance. And he *definitely* doesn't want to remember his former lover, Draco Malfoy. Of course, his life has never really been dictated by what he wants.

[saphirered]

Ah I just read like 5 of your head cannons they're amazing! Could you write about the M9 reacting to a fighter s/o using magic for the fist time, and the s/o explaining that they haven't used it cause it scares them?

Thank you so much ☺️! It turned out a bit longer than I intended but more content is good right? I tried to get some variety in the types of magic users to kudos to anyone who figures out the (sub)classes. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy this one 😘

Caleb:

Caleb, observant as he is caught on the fact you had more knowledge of the arcane than you let people believe. You knew things someone not schooled in some kind of magic wouldn’t have the faintest clue about. It may have left him a bit suspicious of you in the beginning but over time he saw no malicious intent or a connection to the people he’d rather distance himself from.

The first time Caleb noticed you cast a spell, you spoke the familiar words combined with the motions to deflect a hit from an enemy mid battle that otherwise might have been the death of you. You thought no one had noticed but Caleb had, and he recognised the shield spell you used. He saw you flinch the moment you cast it and fear in your eyes as if you were waiting for an aftermath. It never came but you were on edge for the next few hours.

Approaching you after noticing you were still on edge, nervously fidgeting with a coin in your hand to get rid of the more obvious jitters, you denied all claims. If Caleb is good at anything it’s providing a verbal slap in the face through reality check and calling out your bullshit. He wouldn’t press for answers because your past is your past and he had no right to demand it if you were not willingly offering it.

It took you some time but you came clean. You told him how your relationship with practical magics is destructive and hurts people. Because of that you vowed to distance yourself from magic altogether but sometimes you slip and hope no one notices and no ill effects follow you casting any spell. Caleb understands, better than anyone perhaps. He admires your restraint and capability of stepping away from the thing that causes you so much pain; something he never could.

If you’re able to and with your consent Caleb would help you work through your fears, only for your own wellbeing because one thing is undeniable; your magic is part of you and if you never learn to live with it, that it is part of you, you might never be able to accept it. What happens when you’re unable to fear the magic? Will you instead turn to fear yourself like he had himself for so long? No, if he can spare you a fate like that he’d do anything.

Beau:

You never hid the fact you were schooled in the arcane. It just never clicked you are actually a very capable spellcaster especially donned in battle worn armour and your tastes for sharp edged pointy things, and a ‘will cut a bitch’ attitude whenever someone comes for you or those close to you.

Perhaps a little ashamed to admit the first time Beau actually saw you cast a spell it was a simple mage hand cantrip. You couldn’t reach a book on a high shelf at the Archive and you thought it disrespectful to physically climb the bookcases to get it. Beau may or may not have been watching you, more like admiring your muscle. Nothing better than a strong, gorgeous ripped bookworm. Mouth agape you caught Beau staring. You had to snap her out of it. Beau had a million questions, maybe half of them flirty. You answered her questions best you could, even the flirty ones but when it got to where you learned magic you sort of just shut down so she dropped the subject. Beau knows how to read the room no matter how much she might want to press for answers. She’ll refrain. For now.

This doesn’t mean Beau drops the subject entirely for all future reference though. She’d leave hooks for you in case you’d be in a more talkative mood and grow frustrated when you ignored or brushed off the so-many-eth attempt to get you to spill some beans. One day she sat you down, giving you one more chance to tell her what’s going on. If you wanted to tell her, you could. If not, she’d never ask again or try to get you to talk about it.

That’s when you broke down, explaining all the terrible memories of your ‘studies’. You were the only child in a long line of powerful mages to barely be able to cast a cantrip growing up. You were a disappointment and disgrace to your family. Rigorous hours practicing and studying from dawn til dusk without breaks. Not being allowed to go outside and play with friends until you got this one thing right. Nevermind the fact that your family let it be known you were a disappointment.

You’d been working hard already to break the circle but couldn’t prevent the bad memories haunting you every time you felt like you had to cast a spell. No matter how far you ran, whenever you reached for the components, spoke the words or performed the somatics, you were hit with a sense of incompetence. Beau’s not unfamiliar to the need of living up to the expectations of family. She’d be there for you if you wanted to take up magic on your own terms or distance yourself from magic entirely.

Fjord:

Didn’t have a single clue you were magically inclined. But to be fair you never gave anyone a reason to believe you were. You were born with magic and you had seen what developing those abilities had done to others like you. You like yourself the way you are and would very much prefer not to fall into the servitude of some evil entity in the hunger for more power.

You’d seen Fjord spiral into the clutches of his patron and saw him struggle to get away from the leviathan. Ritualistically you tapped into the power bestowed upon you to search for a way to break the pact between warlock and patron. Of course it was doable and your powers could show you the way but you needed to get stronger first…

Fjord grew worried. You’d begun talking to yourself, spending nights awake and an odd sense of paranoia had grasped you. A storm hit once and you had nowhere to shelter. The little voice in your head came back. You could stop that storm. All it would take is a little tiny taste. When you agreed you had no control over yourself. Hand held up to the sky, eyes white and skin ashen, a bright light emitted and the clouds disappeared. Needless to say this did not go unnoticed by anyone.

Obligatory endless questions. Obligatory none answered. You retreated within your shell choosing to ignore your surroundings and feeling the nagging in the back of your head. Fjord heard you speaking to yourself at night. Asking the skies if it was worth it. Worth what? You heard him and just because the voice in the back of your head told you not to, you told Fjord everything; how you had been trying to find a way to keep Uk’otoa at bay, how to break his connection with his patron and give him freedom and what would happen to you if you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for more after completing that goal.

Fjord refuses to let you sacrifice yourself for his freedom. He’d rather have you fighting the evils of the world at his side than end up fighting you in an attempt to save yourself from what you might become. The two of you would work together to repress the inkling for more power and keep your powers at bay and under control. While you might want to see it differently, for the good of everything you’d stay far away from any magical forces seeking to awaken the power you were born with.

Veth:

Veth made it clear she would not understand why anyone would pass on the opportunity to learn or develop magical abilities should they be available to them. She literally spoke those words and you just nodded along changing the subject. You’d rather not lie but is this lie by omission?

It was an emergency. A fight had gone south and you were losing quickly. Clerics on their last legs, a wizard down being dragged away by the monk and Veth running in arrows blazing and screaming to protect her friends. You had to get out and none of you were quick enough at this point to all get out. So you did what you had to do. A quick expeditious retreat resulted in conveniently released magic missiles at your enemies, grabbing the halfling who got out some last shots you misty stepped your way to safety. You shouted to the others you were safe immediately knowing to keep your mouth shut for the next minute. Bless the gods the surges weren’t that bad this time.

Safely returned Veth commented on what you did. Did you take those scrolls? Did you buy that misty step enchanted item after all? Those were the only logical explanations right? Yes but they weren’t true. So you told Veth the truth. No scrolls or enchanted items were involved. Why didn’t you tell anyone you could do that?! It would have been so helpful in the past! Look how many buttons you could have helped her get!

You calmly explained her you could cast spells and were actually quite good at it one point your magic is dangerous, and the surges uncontrollable the state you’re at. While this time the reward by far exceeded the risks in this situation, you’d rather prevent killing those around you in a blaze of glory if you can. Wild magic surges are no joke and you’re so afraid of hurting the people you care about you’d rather step away from magic completely than live with the knowledge you could be the end of your friends and family.

Veth still has a hard time understanding your reasoning being prone to risky behaviour herself but accepts your views and respects your decisions. While you may not practice magic you still know it and after some persuasion, the woman gets you to teach her a thing or two. Of course all used for the good of mankind of course…. She just failed to specify who’s.

Jester:

You’re a special one. The Traveler told her so after all! He just didn’t tell her in what way specifically but you are special! That Traveler of hers may know a bit more than you’re comfortable with so you’ve been wary of the green cloak should he see the need to reveal your secrets. Luckily he cares about Jester and revealing your secrets would hurt you and you being hurt makes Jester upset so you can take comfort in the Traveler’s attachment to the tiefling.

Pixies came to haunt you in the night. They were meant to send you a message. Someone wanted you to stop running and accept your fate. Pissed off as you were you fought them off but when some tried to get away and your bow out of reach you were forced to release the bursts of bright green energy. Regret hit followed by fear. What if your patron could find you now? What if they came to get you or tried to hurt your friends to get you to cooperate? You will never be a puppet again and if a cantrip screwed this up for you….

“Oh. My. Gosh. Why did you never tell me you could do magic?” Jester exclaimed waking up Fjord just to tell him your eldritch blasts looked so much cooler than his. Guess the cat’s out of the bag… You had to prevent Jester from waking up the others to tell them you’d just gotten even cooler than you already were.

Successfully sending the others back to sleep you took Jester aside. Your hands still shaking, you asked her to talk to her god and ask him if he knew someone might be looking for you and getting close. The Traveler obliged but he wanted to hear the story behind your predicament. You told Jester everything ignoring the green hooded figure. How a being from another realm tricked you into an agreement. From then on you became a warlock.

You didn’t like being a warlock and you being stuck in such a binding deal lead to a very abusive relation between you and your patron so you did everything in your power to get away from them. Luckily crossing the planes is a lot more difficult and limits their capabilities quite a bit. Jester promised she’d protect you and of course the Traveler can be your new god so he’ll protect you too. Both you and the Traveler might not have been in full agreement with this statement. Jester understands you wanting to be far away and never see your patron again. She’s seen her mom get rid of the people getting a little too close for comfort or too attached and possessive so she knows how to deal with them.

Caduceus:

From the beginning you knew you couldn’t hide anything from Caduceus no matter how hard you tried. This lead you to just never specify anything. If he picked up on thing and asked about them then you’d answer, if not, you weren’t just going to say anything. Not even to explain yourself. Let him draw his own conclusions.

You may once have been a devout follower of your god, the one who bestowed upon you the powers you’d need to uphold their tenets but you veered from that path. Not everything is as black and white as some people claim it to be. You learned the hard way afraid of repeating your mistakes you’d only revert to your old habits in the most dire situations.

Caduceus had gone down. Jester was too far away and you were the only one able to get to him in time but you were out of healing potions. A quick lay on hands later and Caduceus was back on his feet albeit a bit confused about how you had managed to get him back to the land of the living. Talk later, he told you after seeing you mortified of what you had just done through the relief of seeing Caduceus alive.

Talk later you did. You couldn’t run away from your problems. Caduceus wouldn’t let you. You told him how you had done terrible things, hurt people because your god willed it so. You thought you were doing the right thing until you were faced with the truth and consequences. That’s when you stepped away from your life as a paladin; a vessel for your god.

You kept the sword but refused to use the magic; proof of your ability to hurt people who were worthy of redemption. Over many months Caduceus would help you see that your magic is nothing to be afraid of as long as you wield it with a good conscious and to protect instead of seek vengeance. There’s a fine line between being righteous and being just. The Wildmother taught him as much. Maybe she could through him, show you the same?

Yasha:

Whenever someone played a happy tune or began singing you’d retreat and block out your surroundings or find anything you could to distract you from the sound. Yasha just thought music’s not for everyone and maybe these songs and melodies just were’t your style. However when you asked her to please stop humming a tune while you had watch together she became a bit suspicious.

Spending some downtime at a tavern, deep in your cups Yasha was being bothered by a rather persistent asshole. On the verge of a fight breaking out you stepped in front of the barbarian and in a singsong voice told the asshole to kindly piss off and find company elsewhere with someone actually interested. The act alone made your stomach churn so you ran off.

You didn’t like controlling people. It didn’t even take a rhyme or proper verse. All it took was some booze and a melody in your head. This couldn’t happen again. Yasha had come after you to check on you and when you told her to stop, she stopped, frozen in place unable to move. You immediately dropped the accidental spell you cast putting distance between you and Yasha.

Yasha assured her it was fine and with your permission approached. A hug from the gentle goth was all it took for you to turn into a sobbing mess. When the sobs calmed down you told Yasha how you were cursed with your voice. Song and rhymes, tunes and melodies constantly plagued you afraid you’d go along with them and people got hurt because you couldn’t control your voice.

For the longest time you were uncomfortable using your voice but with your permission Yasha would help you practice. She can take a hit if you lose control badly but this fear is no good for you. She’ll play sweet serenades, some prettier than others as she too needs practice, the both of you can practice together learning and relearning the things you grew to love together.

Mollymauk:

Mollymauk doesn’t care about your shit. Everyone hides something and as long as those secrets aren’t a danger to those around you it’s all fine. Though he can’t deny being a bit curious when you snuck off to burn a suspicious stack of paper…. lighting the flame without tinder, flint and steel, or anything.

The next few weeks involved Molly trying to get you to use magic again, asking you to do small tasks much easier to complete with magic than they would be manually. You didn’t budge. Somehow he couldn’t get you to do anything. You’d complete the task the hard way each and every time. He began to wonder if he might have imagined the whole thing.

He spent the whole night tossing and turning until he decided to give up on sleep and just face you with the question to be done with it. You were gone, the light of a fire a bit away from the rest of the group. He found you watching the flames, tears in your eyes and devoid of all emotion. He’d seen Caleb in a similar state before. That’s when it hit him. This was pain, fear and trauma and you’re disassociating to get through this.

Sitting down next to you he’d place a hand on your shoulder, when you don’t stop him he’d wrap it around your shoulder letting you know he’s here for you when you need him. His views don’t change. Everyone is entitled to their secrets and keeping their lives to themselves. If you want to talk, he’s here but he’d accept your silence too despite his curiosity. Luckily for his curiosity, you told him everything. The torments of the past and the family you lost, the pain you’ve caused countless others and how you’re trying to pay your penance and make right your wrongs.

You’re glad to have Molly at your side be that to cheer you up or listen to you. He’s there whenever you need him and will take no for an answer when you don’t want to talk about something. He won’t ask for further details but will do anything to show you you’re on the right path and leaving a place better than you found it when you can’t see it.

[sunjaesol]

“The simple act of being in love with you is enough for me.”

jiara | post-s2 | pining idiots | title: quote by Pacey from Dawson's Creek

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“Kie.”

“Hm?” The girl’s mop of curls obscured her face as she mumbled out some vowels, clearly still buzzed from the night before. An amused smile ticked up his lips and slapped her calf again. She sighed. “What?”

“Leggo,” he pushed, “we gotta get to Pope’s place.”

“Why?”

Even if everyone else would deny it, JJ swore Kie was as bad as he was: slow and fucking lethargic before eleven in the morning. Sure, she had better grades in school, but he wasn’t gonna give her more credit than that. Speaking of, “Helping him with that new scholarship, remember?”

The girl groaned and rolled over to face him, droopy eyes cracking open to scowl at him. She slept where he used to crash whenever his dad’s place became too much, but since the old man fucked off to Yucatán, he found peace in the quiet walls and cracked windows. Regardless, it was weird seeing her sprawled on this mattress, the boy almost able to envision himself beside her. A dangerous fantasy to linger on, so he pushed it aside and kept on trucking.

“C’mon, Kie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered and sat upright. “How did you even get in the Château?”

JJ grinned and snagged a key chain from his shorts. “Spare key. Duh.”

She rolled her eyes, uttering, “John B’s stupid,” and then pushed him out the guest room, telling him she’d get ready. His mouth opened to make the joke if he couldn’t stay and watch, but the door slammed in his face and that was that.

Having a crush on Kiara was the freakiest thing ever. First of all, JJ and emotions didn’t mesh well — it only led to trouble, a perfect example being his dad and him with the most fucked up dynamic to boot. He preferred to not even think about the man, though one glance in the mirror often betrayed his mind and brought a rush of memories to the forefront, whether it was a shiner against his eye, or the fact that he resembled his father when he was young.

So yeah, he didn’t like anything ‘love’ related. It was stupid. It was more reckless than buying a jacuzzi or trying to steal a golden cross from a boat with dozens of armed men. Friendship, however, was easy. He told the Pogues just that: they were ‘it’ for him, he’d go through fire for them, through hell and fucking back.

But he didn’t think he’d actually die for them, which almost happened when he tried saving Kie on the Coastal Venture — to which she ended up saving him. (A vision illuminated by a golden sun, hovering over him. He’d never forget it.)

While he inspected the contents of the fridge, embarrassingly filled with only beer, eggs, milk and junk food, the door creaked open and revealed a dressed and less-wrecked Kiara. His gaze flicked up and down her frame, quick, and then averted it back to the fridge.

“You got no food, man.”

She chuckled. “I know. It’s not exactly The Wreck type of food…”

“You haven’t gone back?”

“Nope,” she replied, curt, and moved past him to shove a container of sausages aside to grab a bottle of almond milk. Even if she wasn’t with her parents, she still somehow kept up her ‘no dairy’ principles.

Also, Kiara was hella beautiful. He hadn’t let it register when she walked in, but it was true. Her soft-looking, shiny skin, sporting the prettiest smile in all of the OBX, and she was just hot. Especially when she propped herself on the kitchen counter, to which he settled beside her to not look at her legs.

“How many scholarships are there?” she asked. “Like, I’m obviously proud of him, but…”

“He told us last night,” JJ laughed. “You were that fucking high?”

She giggled, “Yeah! You were there, I was just on my ass.” And then, quieter, “And… I don’t know, I guess I’ve been kind of distracted.”

He perked up, surprised. Though the Pogues were family, openly talking about emotions when it wasn’t prompted by anything, remained rare. They were better at talking shit and smoking and napping on boats. Whatever, he took the bait.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s stupid, JJ.”

“Kie, you’re talking to me,” he nudged her shoulder, “throw me a bone here. Is it Pope? You got the hots for our favourite nerd again?”

Taking a sip from the bottle, her brow quirked up as though that was the stupidest thing he ever said, and retorted with, “Why’re you always doing that?”

His hands raised instantly, defensive. “Doing what?”

“You’re always digging, like, when I was with Pope you got all weird.”

“I don’t dig.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. Kie, what’s up?” He kept it moving before she found the core of his problem, and bounced back to the original issue. “Before I start saying shit to Pope.”

She scoffed. “You're full of shit.”

“Oh, Kie,” he drawled with a smirk. “You can do better than that.”

Silence fell. He waited, fiddling with his fingers, and quietly hoped Pope wouldn't be too annoyed when they arrived late — then again, they were begrudgingly coined 'tortoise and tortoise' by the group anyway.

She placed the bottle back in the fridge and sent him a rueful smile, one he often saw her showing Sarah before they went aside and had a private talk. Their eyes locked and she finally spoke.

“Sometimes, I… I miss my parents. And it's like, I don't get how they don't just accept that I'm a Pogue, that I'm friends with you guys, you know? But I still miss them.” She looked down at her feet, crossing at the ankles like a little girl waiting to be reprimanded by the teacher. “I miss my dad's hugs.”

Instantly, his arm swung around her for a gentle side hug, a grateful smile pulling on her lips as she leaned into him. Both knew they should savour a moment like this, as hugging with a twitchy JJ and often irritated Kie happened once every blue moon.

Ignoring the guilty look in her eye — yeah, he didn't understand missing a paternal embrace, rather used to a blow in the stomach or a crude remark, but that didn't mean he lacked empathy — he resisted the urge to encourage her to reconnect with them. Knowing her, she'd just close up and glare at him for the rest of the day.

So no, he wasn't going to ask her. And no, she shouldn't feel guilty. P4L 'til the end, baby.

“Thanks, JJ,” she whispered.

He snickered and pushed her off. “You can't tell the guys I'm becoming soft, dude. Theyʼll give me so much shit for it.”

“They know you're soft,” she teased, “don't even try.”

“I'm tough,” he tried.

“Like Play-Doh.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled and motioned at the kitchen door. “Let's go, Carrera. Before John B and Sarah come back and act all married.”

Now that was fucking annoying. After John B and Sarah faked their death, they got married by a bandana strip and hadn't let that notion go after returning. Sure, there was that small blip when they were fighting the crazy religious chick, but that was old news.

John B made him swear he wouldn't tell a soul, but the guy waxed poetry about Sarah whenever they were drunk and alone. It was hilariously sad. Another man lost to a girl.

(“She wants a beach wedding,” JB sighed a couple nights ago. “Nice, right?”

“I– yeah, I really don't care about this, man.”)

JJ knew that when he got a girlfriend (Kiara unintentionally but also very intentionally crossed his mind), he'd act normal. No mushy shit. No poetry. Definitely no creepy Romeo and Juliet references thrown in as if that shouldn't freak the Pogues out. Their behaviour better not be infectious.

Expectedly, Pope's scowl reached them all the way from the car, Kie and JJ sharing a sheepish look before stepping out.

“Gee, guys,” the boy deadpanned, “thanks for making haste. Really appreciate it.”

JJ's wide grin hoped to salvage it. Slapping his friend on the shoulder, he pushed past him and yelled, “Kie was dead, dude!”

Pope grimaced. “Don't joke about that.”

He watched as Kie stopped beside Pope with an apologetic expression, telling him she overslept and was sorry and that he knew how JJ was — “Always joking.”

His chapped lips pursed, a familiar punch hitting his chest with him then pretending it didn't hurt. She always did this. Even if she claimed she didn't, she always took Pope's side. Relationship or not. JJ knew she didn't owe him her 'side', but it'd be a nice change of pace either way.

Whatever. This wasn't the JJ Pining For Kiara Show. Pope needed their help.

A state-wide scholarship competition gave Pope another shot at winning a huge chunk of money (no gold type of rich though) and getting his ass out of OBX, hopefully launching himself into some fancy college when he revealed to be of Denmark Tanny's lineage. Those hibrow assholes loved a good sob story.

All Pope had to do was score hella high on some test — easy — and impress the panel — not so easy — and he'd be the luckiest Pogue of all.

But that did mean Kie and him had to sit on his creaky bed with a freaky amount of flashcards while a stressed out Pope paced around his room. He was pretty sure the floor was eroding.

Also, he had no fucking clue what any of the flashcards meant. Did Pope's smarts really attracted Kie that much? Was it the brain? Brain over brawl? But where was the fun in that? JJ loved Pope to death, but the guy had to be fully medicated or high before his brain shut off and he acted carefree.

“Pope, do you even know what this all means?” Kie bemoaned, flipping the cards around.

“You got a dictionary somewhere?” added JJ, squinting at the word aberration. It sounded like some weird disease. He showed him the word.

Pope dismissed it. “It means: different from the norm.”

“Dude, why not write that then?”

“Because they want aberration.”

He didn't get it. “No one uses it though.”

“JJ, that's just the way it is,” Pope pressed.

“Guys, stop,” Kiara interrupted. “But honestly Pope, it's so, like, elitist. None of these questions are important to the world, or the well-being of the people.”

“Sorry, Kiara, but unfortunately not everyone cares that much,” he sighed. JJ could tell they were starting to annoy their friend, their tortoise bullshit bleeding through.

Her nose scrunched up, peeved. “Right. Because there's a planet B just waiting to be used by us. Duh.”

“Ooh,” JJ drawled, nudging her arm. “Are there donkeys shitting money?”

Kie laughed. “Yes. All beaches, clean air, no Kooks, and money-shitting donkeys.”

“Nah, I want it to be hella Kooky,” he joked, gesturing wildly. “I want a yacht and tell people someone else does my laundry, or something.”

“You don't even do your laundry anyway,” she bounced back with a roll of the eye. “I know you force John B.”

“He's already playing House with Sarah, might as well wash my underwear, too.”

Oh, man. He could do this all day. Talking shit with Kiara went as smooth as fishing for him. Each time he thought he one-upped her, she threw more on top and kept it going 'til neither knew what the point even was anymore. Sarah dubbed it as 'banter' which he believed was a rich way of saying 'talking smack.'

“I don't believe you even know how to do it,” she challenged.

JJ huffed and crossed his arms. “I can do it.”

A smirk bloomed on her lips as she kept jabbing. “It's kinda cute, how you need John B to be your mom.”

“I don't.”

“You literally said it five seconds ago.”

“Guys,” Pope groaned, followed by an exhausted sigh eerily similar to Heyward. “Can we get back to the flashcards?”

Kie and JJ were too far into their discussion though, jabbing at each other at rapid speed. Then she threw her cards at him and all bets were off. He yelled she should make a goal with her hands, to which he folded up a flashcard and shot it straight between her fingers.

And that was when Pope kicked them out. JJ presumed it was a victory they lasted as long as they did. Kie kept apologising over her shoulder, prompting Pope to ask Cleo for help instead.

For a beat, they were silent stepping out of his place and back into the car. JJ felt a stab of guilt for fucking up Pope's study time, but it was hard to dial his brain to school when his friends surrounded him. Just when he wanted to ask if she felt bad too, she went off about the climate — as usual.

“It's so dumb how there were no questions about the environment or human rights or, or anything like that! It's all science and lit, like, there's more to life than fucking chemistry formulas!”

“I skipped those cards. Didn't get them.”

“It's so fucked,” she hummed. “And I'm obviously glad that you drove to the Château to wake me up and all—”

“Yeah?”

“—but I really wish those questions would matter. We almost died, JJ!”

“No, shit,” he grumbled, quickly starting to lose his patience with the ranting girl. She didn't even realise what the fuck she was saying anymore — what she did to his heart, skipping like some elemtary school girl on the playground, when she slipped some nice words in.

“Died!” she pressed. “Why even care about stuff like that?”

“Fucks sake, Kie—”

“And I didn't want to say it, but did you see how many flashcards there were? How many trees were cut for that? It's like, hello, Quizlet exists!”

“Kie, shut up!” he yelled.

Her mouth fell slack, gobsmacked, gawking at him like his interruption was a slap in the face.

Gesturing wildly with one hand, he exclaimed, “You know, you can just go on and on and I hear you talking and it's like, yeah, we get it, Mother Earth needs to be saved, we're fucked, you don't gotta repeat it twenty-four seven.”

“What the hell, JJ!”

“You have an opinion about everything! A man gets tired!”

“A man?” She scoffed. “You're not even eighteen.”

“Point is you don't gotta act all preachy all the time.” He turned the corner, hands tightening around the steering wheel.

Kie scowled. “Where is this coming from? I'm not preachy, I'm educating you.”

Now that was just fucking with his head. Incredulous, he exclaimed, “You think I don't listen? Kie, I'm the only one that does. JB is on Planet Sarah all the damn time and Pope only did shit 'cause—"

"That!” she yelled, throwing her hands up with frustration. “That's what I mean! You're doing it again! You dig!”

“What?!”

“Every time you mention Pope and I, you dig. You needle!” Twisting in her seat, his gaze flickered to catch her disgruntled expression. “Why do you do that? It's so… sus.”

JJ laughed. “Sus?”

“You don't ask John B about Sarah.”

“'Cause they're fucking obvious.”

“Still,” she pressed. “Did I do something to piss you off? Is that it? Is it me constantly asking you to recycle and yet — shocker! — you never do?!”

“Fucking God,” he grumbled under his breath.

With frazzled thoughts and shaking hands, adrenaline coursed through him as he swerved to the side of the road and stopped the car. If he fought with Kie any longer to this degree of fuckery, they were gonna crash.

She frowned. “What're you doing?”

“You, Carrera, are driving me insane,” he deadpanned, matter-of-fact. Then he slammed the door open and stepped out, desperate to catch his breath.

In the back of his mind, he had an inkling as to why he was so keyed up. Kiara would call him a Neandethal, but fuck it, here was the truth: Kiara was hot as hell when she argued with him.

Following his lead, she got out, her sneakers stomping against the asphalt. The sun steeped low on the horizon, the light hitting the hood and reflecting onto her face; her curls shifting from dark brown to gold. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was so fucked. He almost missed the start of her spiel, too enthralled.

“I'm driving you insane? I'm always getting you out of trouble, because you never think things through! You never see the bigger picture!”

He rolled his eyes. “Bigger picture? The only thing I see, Kie, is you going on about nature. That easy.” And then, before he could stop himself, he spewed out, “And you don't have to do that.”

“What?”

“Getting me out of trouble,” he said, pursing his lips. “That's not your responsibility.”

“Right. Duh. Because after everything we've been through, I can't care about you,” she exclaimed, face twisting up in pure fury. She got in his space, shoving his shoulder, but when he didn't budge, it only seemed to anger her more.

JJ didn't know what was going on anymore. Why was she so mad? Even if she didn't want to admit it, he was telling the truth. Of course all the Pogues had each other's back, but Kiara doted over him more than was necessary. The constant checking of injuries, limiting his day drinking, all that. Like he was some child!

He leaned in and mumbled, “I can take care of myself.”

Kie smirked. “Then do your own laundry.”

It happened naturally. One second he stared at her furious eyes and thought about how much he loved arguing with her despite the bullshit, the next his fingers curled into her hair and pulled her in a fierce kiss.

At first, her hands laid frozen on his shoulders, surprised, but the moment he realised his impulsive decision was a mistake, they slid around his neck and kept him close.

JJ sighed in relief and deepened the kiss he'd been craving ever since they were fourteen and Kie went from gangly to statuesque. Her lips were warm and soft and her hands were soft and she hadn't let go and holy shit — he was kissing Kiara Carrera.

The kiss lessened when her mouth quirked into a smile, their grins pressing flush together, and JJ shivered from delight. Oh, man. He was gone.

“You drive me damn crazy, Kie,” he murmured, voice dropped to an undeniably soft tone.

She bit back her silly grin and whispered, “Good.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried focusing up, but all he could do was stare at her face. A shy hand grabbed hers.

He had to get it out of the way now, or else he'd kick himself later. “I'm… really into you. I'm– oh, fuck, uh–”

“Maybe we can talk about it not on the side of the road?” she suggested, amused.

JJ grinned, elated (What was the word he saw on the flashcards? Exalted!), and kissed her again, because he could.

On the ride back to the Château, he confessed to seeing her in a different light for years, while she couldn't really pinpoint a time or moment, that it just happened. It didn't matter, though he was in utter disbelief that he and Kie were having this conversation. No jokes, no BS, all seriousness. Tomorrow, he'd wake up and it wouldn't be some sick dream. Kie liked him back.

JJ was sure he'd doubt himself or overthink it in the future, but today, he'd bask in the certainty and the major ego boost.

“Okay, but did you ever legit like Pope then?”

A sheepish smile crawled up her cheeks as her gaze averted to the window. “I thought I did. But we have, like, no chemistry, so…” She shook her head. “I was confused.”

“That's okay,” he uttered. He couldn't give her shit for it. Even if he did torture himself with their short-lived relationship, he understood.

How would he react though? John B and Sarah wouldn't care, or Cleo, but Pope? He didn't want one of his brothers hating him. Being iced out by the guy fucking sucked, as it meant he was truly hurt and therefore meant JJ truly fucked up. He couldn't handle disappointing him.

Kie read his mind. “He'll be fine with it.”

“I dunno, man…”

“He will,” she repeated. “We're Pogues. We've all narrowly survived death. And besides…” She turned back to him with a secretive grin. “I think he has a thing for Cleo.”

Whoa. He did not see that coming. His brows shot up to his hairline, mentally kicking himself for being so focused on Kie that he didn't even notice the shift of interest between Pope and Cleo. They made sense, too. Know-it-all's, but well-meaning, and only speaking when needed.

If the idea didn't relief him of worries, he'd be concerned as to why they were all seamlessly coupled up like in some 90s sitcom Big John had on VHS.

“What a player,” he joked.

“Tell me about it.”

They arrived at the house, the Twinkie and Sarah's bike sprawled on the overgrown front lawn. JJ frowned. He had hoped to have some alone time with Kie, not to jump her bones and fulfill a regular dream of his, but to talk. To figure it out. He wanted to do this right. Because after everything, they deserved to have good things, to start on a high note — he deserved it.

Kie noticed it, too. Puckering her lips on contemplation, her gaze trailed from him to the rest of the property, ending on the trusty ol' hammock. She jabbed her thumb at it.

“Let's sit there.”

Normally, they laid on opposite ends on the hammock, if they even shared one to begin with. But now, she pressed herself right beside him and he felt like heaven dropped down on them in the best way possible. He suddenly understood what John B was lamenting about — the company, intimacy, the ease. Nerves rippled through his body like a summer storm, but he figured that was what it cost to lose one's mind over a girl.

He didn't know what to say, so Kiara spoke instead.

“I don't want us, the way we are around each other, to change, you know?” she said. “Like, I don't want you to think you have to act like some mellow ass boyfriend all of a sudden.”

He smirked. “Who said anything about boyfriend?”

“Bye.”

“Hey, wait,” he grinned, latching onto her arm before she pushed herself out. “C'mon, Kie.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I don't do this usually, okay?”

“You think I do?” he asked. His hand softly slid down to wrap around hers, to which she hooked their fingers together. Okay. Wow. It felt so damn nice that it propelled him to say, “I wanna be your boyfriend, Kie.”

The girl smiled and then surprised him by leaning in herself, pressing a gentle kiss on his chapped lips. It was overwhelming having her instigate it, his gut twisting up in excitement like when he was about to backflip from a boat, or cliff dive, or something similar like that.

He let go of her hand to cup her cheeks, only to whisper, “That's a yes, yeah? Gotta get a yes.”

“Yes, JJ,” she uttered back. “Here's to not fucking this up.”

“Cheers, baby.”

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[buckys-black-dress]

stargazing (bucky barnes x fem!reader)

a/n: so this idea totally just came to me because this trope is honestly so cute and i love these and i need to get this out of my system. i listened to stargazing by the neighborhood while writing this and i LOVE this song, so i’d recommend listening while reading! (just listen to the whole album).

also-- happy new year! 2020 quite literally fucked us up but im so grateful this year was the one where i decided to come on here and share my work with yall. i love every single one of my readers, so THANK YOU! anyways, without further ado...

enjoy my dearies!!! -ali

wc: 2.8k

- 

When you first became best friends with Rebecca Barnes in preschool, the last place you’d expected to end up was with a massive crush on her older brother.

James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called my his close friends, was basically the perfect guy for you. He was kind, witty, and didn’t treat you like a child. (Anymore). 

Now that you had graduated high school and were in you first year of college, Bucky was in his second year. And things were getting rough. 

You were a Cognitive Psychology major, and your main interest was in becoming an occupational therapist. You were attending Columbia University. 

And of course, so was Bucky, studying English Literature. Rebecca was studying at FIT, her main interest being in fashion design. All three of you couldn’t bear to leave New York City, so you all decided to stay nearby. 

Since all three of you were in the same area, more or less, you three remained close and tight-knit. Since you were still a freshman, you decided to dorm on campus, while Rebecca and Bucky did the same. Bucky was in a fraternity, so he had a place in the house, and you often found yourself hanging out in his room, having been introduced to most of his brothers.

Like today, it was Thursday night, and your classes were cancelled for tomorrow. You were in no rush to get back to your room, and your roommate was also out at her boyfriend’s. Rebecca thought you were finishing up an essay, though. 

“Y/N, you’re crashing here tonight?” Bucky’s voice caused his chest to rumble under your place on it. 

“Yeah, is that alright?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course, Y/N/N.” He smiled back down at you, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at your doe eyes. 

She’s your sister’s best friend. Becca would hate you.

“I’m gonna wash up before I fall asleep, Buck.” You said with a yawn, lifting yourself off of Bucky’s warm, comfortable bed. 

Bucky watched your form disappear out of his room to the bathroom next door, his chest deflating with a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

I’m so fucked.

-

Making your short walk to the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts, and you really didn’t know what to do in this current situation. 

You and Becca had been best friends since you were both in preschool.

And now you were pretty certain that you had the biggest crush known to humankind on her older brother. 

Staring at your reflection in the mirror as you pat your face dry, you wondered what would happen if this went further. 

What would happen if you told Bucky that you liked him?

What would Becca do if she knew you liked her brother?

Shaking your head at yourself, you knew you couldn’t do that to Becca. She’s been there for you through everything that’s happened to you. To just turn around and tell her that you’ve fallen for her brother- you don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.

But how could you just outwardly deny your feelings for Bucky?

A knock on the bathroom door drew you out of your thoughts, letting whoever was knocking know that they could come in. 

“Hey, Y/N, how ya been?” It was one of Bucky’s closest friends whom you also knew growing up, Steve Rogers. 

“Hey Steve, I’m good. How ‘bout you?” You asked, getting ready to head back to Bucky’s room. 

“Good, good, y’know, Peg’s keepin’ me on my toes.” He flashed you a smile, a blush creeping up on his face at the mention of his girlfriend. 

“Aw, Stevie’s in loooove,” You sing-songed, pinching his cheek.

“Well, I think I could say the same for you, Y/N/N.” Steve scoffed back in retort, but your breath hitched at the words.

“Shut up, Steve...” You mumbled, twiddling your fingers. 

“Y/N, I’m serious... You and Buck ‘ve been spending a lot of time together and I can tell. He’s my best friend, and I know when my best friend is taken for someone. Trust me, Y/N, your feelings aren’t one-sided.” And with that, he steps into the bathroom, leaving you reeling at his words.

Lost in your thought again, you walked back to Bucky’s room. You tucked yourself under his warm duvet, as you fell into a deep slumber with his arm wrapped around your waist, thinking about the weight of it around you as you fell asleep.

- 

The next morning was... quiet... to say the least. After your encounter with Steve in the bathroom, you really didn’t know how to feel about your feelings towards Bucky. He felt the tenseness that was rolling off of you in waves, making him wonder if he did something to make you upset. 

Bucky wondered if he was doing too much, wondering if he had caused you to be uncomfortable with him for some reason.

So naturally, he pulled back.

As the days went on and got colder, you found yourself spending more time in your dorm, or places that weren’t associated with Bucky in your mind. 

And it was safe to say the both of you were losing it.

Bucky was slowly losing his composure, where he would participate the most in his seminar classes, he was quiet and folded in on himself, losing his confidence. 

Where you were the most outspoken on certain topics in your classes, you became a bit of a hermit. 

And almost everyone noticed.

Most notably, Becca and Steve.

When you returned from class at the end of a long week without Bucky, you invited Becca over to have take out in your room.

“So, how’s your week been?” She asks, reaching into your takeout box and grabbing a piece of garlic honey chicken.

Rolling your eyes, you say “Fine, same old. You? How’d that design project go?” 

“It was awesome! My professor really loved my piece, she said it was one of the ‘most original takes’ on this project she’s seen!” Becca was ecstatic and you were so proud of her.

“That’s so awesome, Bec! One day you’re gonna have to make me something that I can wear, and when someone asks me where I got it, I’ll just say, ‘oh, sorry my best friend made it, you’ll have to wait ‘til it hits the runways to buy it.’” You laugh, pointing your chopsticks at her.

“Y/N, stop, you flatterer.” She smirked, looking back down at her food. “Hey, I’ve also been meaning to ask... have you noticed Bucky acting weird as of late, or anything? Is it just me or is he like... way more quiet than usual?” Becca asked inquisitively. 

“Oh- uh, I actually have no idea. I haven’t really seen him that much this week. Just around campus here and there.” You shrug your shoulders, the pit in your stomach nagging at you.

“Really? You guys usually hang out more often...” She responds, and your face burns in embarrassment. 

“Wh- How do you know how often your brother and I hang out?” Your voice didn’t even feel like your own as you spoke, quickly occupying it with food.

“Well, he does live with Steve... Apparently you’re around there pretty often.” Rebecca eyes you, seeing your body language and how uncomfortable you seem. “Y/N... If you like my brother, that’s okay. I think you guys would be cute together. And I can tell you like him, so don’t try to deny it.” Becca smiles, reaching to rest a hand on yours in comfort. 

“Wh- You don’t care?” You ask in confusion, expecting a bit of a more dramatic reaction. 

“Of course I care, I care about my two favorite people being happy. And if they’re happy together, then that’s even better!” She explains, and your head spins.

“I- I’m telling you this in confidence, Becca. You can’t tell anyone, not Steve, not Peggy, and absolutely not Bucky...” She nods, moving closer to you. “I...I do like Bucky. A lot. But I don’t think he likes me that way. I mean, just look at his exes. I’m not like Natasha, or those gorgeous girls. And what if he just sees me as his friend. Like a little sister?” You finish, your hands flailing around and out of breath. 

“Y/N... I know my brother, but I can’t read his mind. If I had to take a wild guess... I’d say he likes you too. Based on what Steve tells me, based on how Bucky acts when you come up in conversation... his eyes light up, dude. I think you need to talk to him, face to face.” Rebecca explains, giving her best advice. “You both deserve to be happy, and I think you could both give that to each other.” She softly smiles. 

“Thanks, Becca. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll talk to him.”

- 

In the frat house across the campus, Steve and Bucky were sitting in the living room amongst some of their other brothers. 

“Buck, what’s been up with you this week?” Tony, a senior and president of the frat asks from the kitchen.

“Hm?” Bucky looks up, confused at the question.

“You’ve been... off all week long.” Sam chimes in from next to him on the couch, eyes leaving the football match on the TV.

“I’m fine, why?” Bucky deflects, taking a sip of his drink in hand.

“Whatever you say, but I have a feeling this has to do with Y/N... haven’t seen her around here at all this week.” Tony points out, plopping down on a futon. 

Steve’s eyes widened, looking down at his phone that he’s been on all night.

Little did Bucky know, Rebecca was feeding him information about you to him directly, trying to make sense of his friend’s odd behavior this week.

His eyes shot to Bucky’s, trying to gauge his reaction to Tony’s mention of you.

“Yeah, she’s been.... busy, I guess. Haven’t really talked to her.” Bucky says nonchalantly. 

“Why not? You two are basically attached at the hip... like, Friday nights are usually your thing together. I thought you’d man up and ask her out already.” Sam’s response caused a stillness in the room, everyone looking at Bucky for his next move. 

But it was quiet. 

“She’s... she’s my sister’s best friend... I don’t think Becca would appreciate me taking her best friend out to dinner.” Bucky said in a low voice, clearing his throat. 

“Have you asked her how she feels about it?” Thor asks from his spot on the other couch. “Maybe she’s fine with it, she doesn’t seem to be too stuck up...” He suggests.

“My sister isn’t stuck up, man. Watch it.” He responds defensively. 

“I wasn’t saying that! But you should talk to her about it, that’s all I’m saying!” Thor fights back. 

“I just- I don’t know, last week when Y/N was here, she went to the bathroom to wash up at night, and when she came back she was acting totally different. She’s usually comfortable around me, but she was acting like... like she was uncomfortable around me. I thought I did something to make her feel that way, so I kinda backed off this week.” Bucky explains, trying to understand what went wrong.

“Well, did she say anything? Did she try to reach out this week?” Tony asks. 

“I mean, she texted me a few times, but it was casual conversation. I can’t tell how she’s feeling. I like her, but I don’t want to make things weird for her and Becca, or Becca and I.” 

And this is where Steve chimes in. 

“I mean, come on Buck, it’s obvious she likes you too. I think you need to talk to her, because Becca wants you two to be happy. I don’t think she’d care that much, y’know?”

“But what if I make things awkward? Like, what if I read the signals wrong this whole time, and she doesn’t even really like me?” Bucky was now going into a deep spiral, and Steve needed to pull him out, fast. 

“Buck, I don’t think so. You should talk to her, face to face.” Steve encouraged.

“You think so?” Bucky wasn’t so convinced.

“Yes!” A chorus of voices echoed in the house, causing Bucky to jump to his feet, ready to confront this head-on.

“Okay, yeah, yes, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. I got this, I’ll be fine-” But his pumping-up session was cut short from the doorbell ringing through the house.

Steve got up, “I got it.” He simply said, smirking mischievously as he turned to face the door and twisted the knob.

And of course, it was none other than you.

“Hey Buck? I think it’s for you!” Steve yells from the doorway, stepping out of the way and directing everyone in the living room to hide out of sight. Of course, they were all still eavesdropping and lurking about.

“Doll, what’re ya doin’ here?” Bucky was beyond confused, you timing was impeccable. 

“I-I have some things I wanna talk about. I just, I think we need to talk.” You say, looking up at him.

“Y-Yeah, come inside, it’s freezing out. What’s up, doll?” He asks, pulling you into the house and into the living room, sitting down next to you on a couch, making sure to face you. 

“Everything’s alright... but I need to get this off my chest before I go crazy-” You stop yourself from rambling further. “I was having dinner with Becca earlier, and we... talked... about some things. And apparently, someone was telling her about all the time we spend together.” Bucky was listening, but cursing Steve in his head, knowing he was behind it. 

“And I know last week I was acting weird, but I promise, it wasn’t because of something you did. Well, it kinda was, b-but not something bad, y’know?” You explain, trying to get Bucky to understand how you feel.

“Whaddaya mean, doll? If I did something, tell me, because I would never want to hurt you-” He started, trying to pinpoint his actions. 

“You made me like you! There, you happy?” You exclaim, hands covering your cherry red face. “I said it! I like you. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, I’m just your little sister’s annoying friend, I get it-” 

But instead of the feeling of rejection, you were met with Bucky’s lips on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

Bucky was kissing you.

Bucky was kissing you!

Holy fuck!

What. The. Fuck. 

But before you could overthink anything, you heard loud whoops and cheers coming from all around you.

“What the hell? Steve?” You asked, looking around, trying to process the last minute.

“Finally! Took ya two idiots long enough! God, Becca and I didn’t know how much longer we’d have to be your freakin’ puppet masters.” He laughed from his spot in the kitchen. 

“Come on doll, let’s go upstairs to talk, where we could have some privacy...” Bucky said pointedly, looking at his brothers as they kept cheering as you two made your way up the stairs. 

- 

Once the door closed behind you two, you were quite literally speechless.

“You kissed me.” You pointed out the obvious, since your mind was still reeling.

“I did.” Bucky simply answers.

“...Why?” You ask, like an idiot. 

“Because, for the past three years I’ve had the biggest crush known to man on you... and I knew if I didn’t kiss you then, I never would. Kind of a life or death situation here, doll.” He jokes trying to gauge your mood.

“Bucky...” You sighed, walking closer to him, holding his face, “you can kiss me whenever you want.” And punctuated your sentence with a kiss. 

“Well... then... can I call you my girlfriend?” He asks, looking into your twinkling eyes. Bucky’s large hands cover your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“Yeah... I think you can.” You answer, the sparkle never leaving your eyes.

“Hmmm... finally.” Bucky hums, closing the gap between your lips over and over again. 

Your loud giggle fills the room as Bucky peppers kisses all over your face, trying to make up for lost time. 

“Hey, make sure to use protection, kids!” someone’s voice comes from down the hall from’s Bucky’s room.

“Shut up, Sam!” You both yell in unison, resuming your previous activities.

And in this moment, there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be. 

[demon-slayage]

The first time you and Cove Holden get into an argument is when you’re in college

-femme reader

-high affectionate Cove, long term dating

-post step 3

-some mild angst but mostly fluff

-hi I haven’t written anything in years and this just popped out at me. Sorry it can get a little specific I based the sorority stuff on some of my own experiences so it does come from a femme perspective as well as my own experiences in the game w a high affectionate sporty Cove.

-hope you enjoy!

————————-

You opted to go to a university on the opposite side of the state. You generally didn’t come home to visit all that often just because your schedules didn’t always line up that way but you and Cove made it work. He knew this would happen and you tried to make a point of visiting at least once a month. However, you had joined a sorority because you wanted to make more friends. You could tell your longtime boyfriend was a little wary since your high school and friend group was never into partying like Greek life was known for.

Once you made it into the sorority in late fall you were finally able to attend one of these said ragers that Cove was worried about. You partook in some underage drinking and sent your boyfriend a couple of Snapchats of you hanging out with some sisters who he’s seen before as well as some unknown frat brothers. He simply told you to be safe, have a good time, and call him if you needed him. Knowing full well he’d drop everything to come get you if needed. Even though your drive/flight was hours away. You told him you loved him and not to worry.

But knowing Cove thats all he did over the weekend. Then the week after you had to deal with midterms so you were even busier and had less time to chat with your boyfriend as you were busy studying in the library with your friends and sisters. But regardless of that fall break was coming up and you had planned your visit to see Cove after midterms.

You made sure to text Cove to tell him you weren’t going to be as available but you knew he’d be a little sad but understanding knowing how clingy he was. However being in this situation you didn’t have time to focus on that.

Friday rolled around and you’d opted to fly home instead of taking the 5 hour drive. You’d planned it to be a surprise getting there earlier instead of the usual time. You had your moms pick you up from the airport and they smothered you with hugs and kisses once they saw you walk out of the gate.

You told them about how the semester was going and told them about your organization and they were just happy you were home. They took you family condo and you immediately got dressed to surprise your-probably-worried-you-hadn’t texted-him-for-a-bit-boyfriend. You sent him a text you saying were leaving in the morning which was normal but you’d always sent a follow up once you took a stop in your usual road trip.

You made your way to the tropical place restaurant where he worked and had even stopped by a local candy shop to pick up some fudge for him.

You swung the door open with a jingle and you’d somehow caught Cove conveniently at the host podium but unfortunately the moment he saw you he started immediately choking on the water he was drinking. His boss rushed over to check on him and noticed you and started laughing.

They said “Oh Cove, ever the smooth one. Why don’t you go take a long lunch since your partner is back.” They patted him on the back as he was still hacking pretty hard but you could see tears forming his eyes. You were unsure whether they were from being excited to see you or because he was in pain from choking.

You quickly pulled your dying boyfriend outside and let him finish recovering. After clearing his throat a few times he brought you into a big hug. And kissed your face all over.

“I didn’t expect you back so early!”

“I know I flew instead of driving since I wanted to see you so bad since I have more time! Fall break doesn’t end til Wednesday so you’re stuck with me until then.”

He puts a hand to his heart and says “oh what shall I do with you for that long.” He says it with a sly look in his eyes. But you also notice a bit of sadness in his voice but choose not to comment on it. You will later but not when he has to eventually go to back to work.

“So, do you want to eat here or find somewhere else to go. I guess I have a longer lunch but I don’t want to push it.”

You both opt for eating at his workplace but sitting outside around back away from the customers. You quickly fall into your normal conversations and you tell him about the midterms and your initiation into your sorority, telling him for the first time you have a secret he can’t know. He tries to get you to spill jokingly but you won’t budge. You also sense his sadness rising but again you won’t push until you’re in private.

Eventually your hour comes to a close and you tell him you’ll see him at his apartment later. You wave the spare key he gave you when he moved in and start your 15 minute trek back to your home to grab your belongings which you had left with your moms before they dropped you off to see him.

You ran inside and gave them a quick hug, popped over to Mr. Holden’s house to let him know you were back, who was just as shocked and then made your trek to Cove’s one bedroom apartment.

His complex was actually rather close to your family homes, he now had his independence but was still close enough to pop in on both families. You’d appreciated it since you’d stay at both places when you were in town and if Elizabeth was in town you got to stay with Cove. Though there was still a room available it was mostly just a weak excuse but your families never minded.

You opened up the door and inhaled and felt at peace. The citrusy-ocean scent you were used to hit you and made you tear up slightly. You walked your bag to Coves bedroom and then grabbed your entertainment of choice and headed into the living room to wait for him to get back. Since he was working a morning shift you expected him home in about an hour.

While you waited you remembered the fudge bought for him and made sure to grab it and display it on his coffee table.

Like clockwork when the clock struck 3, your tired boyfriend walked inside. All of the exhaustion on his face completely melted away at the sight of you and in two steps, thankful to his long legs he was holding you in his arms. Very enthusiastic for someone who’d already greeted you.

“You just saw me though!”

“I know but I didn’t get to do this earlier” he brought his lips to yours and the world stood still and all felt at peace. After a few moments you broke apart and you motioned to the fudge on the table.

“I bought some of your favorite to surprise you!”

You saw tears start to form in his eyes and then tears started to form in yours and you both hugged each other again before settling in a tangled pile of limbs on the couch.

However you were still aware of the subtle sadness he was giving off and decided now was the best time to bring it up.

“Hey.”

You looked at him with worry and he immediately went wide eyed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“No, you tell me? I could tell you weren’t all there today when I saw you at the restaurant.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry. It’s nothing.”

You looked at him and he immediately broke.

“No you’re right, sorry I don’t know why I sometimes do that still, you can read me like an open book.” He pulled you closer.

“I guess I was just feeling a little insecure.”

You were surprised. The Cove Holden. Insecure? You both trusted each other with the utmost care and neither of you had ever done anything warranting an insecurity to rise but you let him continue speaking.

“You looked like you were having so much fun in those photos, but seeing you with all those guys i didn’t know kind of got to me. And then you were busy the whole week, which I know you couldn’t help. But we couldn’t even talk about it and it just weighed on me.”

Oh Cove. You put a hand up to your mouth and tears started to form in your eyes. You pushed your face into his chest then looked up at him. He looked back at you with a deep intense love.

“I’m sorry I didn’t even think about that! Those guys joined their organization around the same time as me so we’d been getting to know each other and since it was the first time we got to drink I wasn’t even really conscious of what was happening! They’re just some good friends.”

At that he seemed to stiffen.

“What do you mean not conscious? You didn’t drink that much you blacked out?”

You were not actually a drinker at all and felt a little stung by his assumption. You weren’t even allowed to drink your entire new member process until you got initiated into the organization either so that was a first and you knew you didn’t pass your limits either.

“No Cove. I didn’t. I was fine, i didn’t mean it that way. I meant that those guys had just become part of my routine. Not that I had blacked out.” Your tone came out a little more hostile than you meant.

He looked away and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I know you’re responsible.”

He looked at you and picked up your hand and started massaging it.

“It’s just with alcohol, I worry about it since we never really drank in high school. You’re free to do that of course! You’re free to do whatever you want I just was worried since I’m not able to be there if anything bad did happen.”

Oh. He was right. It’s not like if you did get sick he’d be right there to be able to hold your hair back. Of course he was concerned. You were living different lives right now and it worried him that he couldn’t be a part of some of your firsts.

“Cove, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about that. You’re always on my mind that it kind of felt like you’d be able to instantly come to my aid if I needed but you are actually 5 hours away and 3 if you fly.” You smiled sadly at him.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I trust you I really do, you know that but I’ve been realizing it’s hard for me at times watching you live this different life than me after we spent 10 years doing the same thing. I’ve never felt that insecurity before. In the back of my head I worry you’ll get bored of your boyfriend from your small hometown and want to move on to different things.”

You sighed at that, but not with any malice.

“Cove James Holden. You know you are the only one for me. Like you said, I’ve been with you for 10 years! You’re not getting rid of me that easily! And I’d never get bored of you!”

That elicited a chuckle and you pressed your lips to his cheek and then his lips.

Once you pulled apart he stayed looking at you with a soft gaze.

“I want you to have fun, have the whole college experience. I know you won’t always have time to talk to me. Thank you for sticking with me and riding out these insecurities I feel. You are my person and I know I’m yours.”

“Exactly! You are my absolute person.” You replied happily. Poking him in the chest.

“I love you,” he said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“I love you two Cove Holden. Forever and always.”

——

Bonus:

You then spent the rest of the evening cooking dinner, catching up, and eventually having the nicest, deepest sleep you’re had in a while being back in the arms of your boyfriend. He had taken the weekend off so you didn’t even need to worry about waking up early in the morning.

When the sun peaked through the blinds you smiled up at the sleeping beauty who’d encased you protectively in his arms all night knowing someday you’d be doing this every day for the rest of your lives.

[nxrthmizu]

CADYYYYYY I FLY HERE after seeing your milestone event!!! Congratulations on your achievement, you deserve the world!!! ❤️

So to hop on to this event and celebrate with you, may I request for a special one:

Iwaizumi + 70,000 miles away?? 👀

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pairing | iwaizumi hajime x reader

w.c | 1.3k 

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mornings for the general married couple consists of whispered 'mornin's, hushed breaths, and knowing that there'll be a warmth on the other side of the bed for the days to come. in the words of your mother, who was one of the few lucky ones to find happiness in an arranged marriage— 'there is nothing more beautiful than waking up beside a soul who'll give up the world for you'.

years of living with your parents has given you an insight on the marriage you want to live with til' your hair becomes snowy white. as a kid, you would wake up on the weekends to the delighted giggles of your mother as your father envelops her in his embrace, commenting on the sweet aroma of the two-in-one coffee she's brewing.

"you make the best coffee," your father would say affectionately, pressing a kiss on your mother's cheek as your 'ew' echoes around the kitchen.

"it's instant coffee, dear," your mother rolls her eyes good-naturedly, playfully shoving him off. "anyone can make it."

"it's different!" protests your father indignantly, as if he's prepared to defend his opinion with his life. "your coffee is unique. it's brewed with your love."

at this, your mother turns away to look at you, shaking her head. "your father is an idiot." there is no bite in her words, however, because she looks completely enamoured by the man who is dramatically sipping his instant coffee, swirling it in the Darlie mug that came with buying two tubes of toothpaste.

your mornings aren't quite like that, however. your mother wakes to her husband peppering kisses on the back of her neck; you wake to a void beside you and a ding! of your phone.

[hajime] 6.47am

good morning, darling.

did you sleep well?

the slumber in your eyes makes you want to feel annoyed— but the words on the screen coax it out of you, leaving you with a buzzing warmth in your chest. there is no husband enveloping you with his body heat, but there is a husband across the phone screen, making his best out of the situation. it's honestly amazing— even 70,000 miles away, hajime can induce a lukewarm flush in your heart.

his seven words might not seem like much, but you know better. he texts you at exactly 6.47 in the morning— two minutes after your alarm goes off, which gives you sufficient time to roll around after you wake. 

there’s no way you can resist the smile dancing across your lips when your phone rings. ‘you have an incoming call’, your phone says in hajime’s voice, and you let the call go unanswered for a moment longer just to hear your husband try his best not to burst into laughter as he repeats the phrase. eventually, you slide your finger towards the green ‘receive’, pressing the speaker to your ear as you flop back onto the mattress. 

“good morning, sleepyhead.” his voice soothes you like a warm cup of mushroom soup, distributing a comfort you didn’t know you missed throughout your vessels and organs. “did you sleep well?” 

“yeah.” you mumble, feeling like a naive teenager living their first love when your heart performs five cartwheels in a row. for a moment, you consider signing your cardiac muscle up for the circus. “i missed you.” 

his laugh crackles through your speaker. “me too, darlin’. just a couple more weeks. hang on until then, alright?”

“have you eaten yet?” you ask, doing a quick mental calculation to figure out what time it is where he’s at. just about time for dinner. 

“yeah. instant noodles and microwavable dumplings from the convenience store. i’m best friends with the owner now,” he jokes, “i’m there every other night. i’ve tried out just about every food they have in there.” 

a frown crosses your lips. “when you get back, i’ll make all your favourites.” you declare, upset that your husband has to resort to eating cheap konbini foods. he’s doing his best from day-to-night, working his ass off to train that overseas volleyball team, giving his all to beat them into shape before the season starts. by the time he finishes work, he’s too tired to cook anything than microwavable dumplings. you’re starting to semi-wish that you went with him so he at least has decent food to eat. “i’ll make tofu and that udon you love.” 

“i’m looking forward to it.” hajime replies fondly before a robotic ding! goes off. “oh. my dumplings are done.” the line carries over footsteps, muffled by a pair of slippers, the hollow noise of colliding plates and the beeping of an annoying microwave that you feel like strangling. 

when you close your eyes, you can imagine your husband, phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder as he shuffles across his room, popping the microwave open and waving the steam away. he plates his dumplings with ease, picking the plate up with one hand as he holds his phone with the other. 

“alright, i’m back.” hajime lets you know, setting down his utensils on the plate. the sharp noises make you wince, but you don’t complain. “you should probably start getting ready for work.” 

“hmm.” you hum in reply, feeling reluctant. 

“i’ll call you again before you go to bed,” chuckles hajime, shoving a dumpling into his mouth. “and then i’ll call you tomorrow morning, and tomorrow night, and... what’s the word for the day after tomorrow?” the call blurbs out clicks and clacks as hajime picks up his phone, leaving the call screen to search up the word. 

“i get it, i get it. it’s fine.” you hastily stop him before he actually googles it. “i just... miss you a lot lately. that’s all.” 

he goes silent for a bit, and the insecurities seeded deep down inside you start to grow their roots. what if hajime starts finding you clingy and annoying? 

“i miss you too. more than i want to admit,” hajime confesses softly, sounding slightly vulnerable. “sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night and i want to talk to you, but then i turn around and—” he cuts himself off, sighing. “i want to call you, but you’re at work and i don’t want to disturb you.” 

you know him well enough to know that he’s pursing his lips, and the image of your husband pouting to himself makes a giggle erupt. 

“hey, i’m trying to have a sentimental moment here.” 

“oh, i know, i know. i’m sorry. it’s just— i suddenly imagined you pouting and i couldn’t help it. you’re adorable.” you explain, holding back the stragglers of laughter. “and hajime— you can text me when i’m at work. or you could call.” 

“yeah.” hajime sighs. “i hate not being able to talk to you face to face, though.” 

“me too, love.” you reply, smiling softly to yourself. “but you said it just now, right? a couple more weeks and we’ll see each other again. just hang on till then.” 

“hmm.” 

“i should go get ready for work now.” 

“yeah, you should.” hajime’s words and thoughts can be quite conflicting sometimes, because even though his words are agreeing with you, his tone states that he doesn’t want you to go. 

“the word for the day after tomorrow is overmorrow, by the way.” 

“oh! right.” 

“enjoy your dumplings and noodles.” 

“i will.” 

“and sleep early.” 

“yes yes.” 

“and remember that you can text me even if i’m at work.” 

“mm.” 

“remember that i love you.” 

“i love you too.” 

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if i’m being honest this prompt was kind of personal cause... well there’s this guy who i (kind of) dated back in high school but he moved like. half the globe away and uh... yeah. i still text him from time to time cuz we’re still friends :P 

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @knmiakira @rirk-ke @cemeiia @animegirlweeb @mitzwinchester  @haikyuushuffle 

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Milestone Event: Requests Open!

[junicai]

applause.

| order no. | 10/21

| summary | While filming for NCT2020, Aria fears her interview partner is coming down with a fever. Spoiler alert: He’s not. 

| word count | 1.8k

| warnings | None

| era | circa. December 2020

a/n: ok so i figured i’d mark my return to posting with a lil floof for the soul :) before i ruin it again :) so here u go here are two idiots being idiots :)

Oftentimes, it was easy to forget just how many members NCT had amassed over the years.  With the sub-units separated the majority of the time for their own promotions; the odds were that if you weren’t in a sub-unit with another member, you’d rarely interact with them outside of the company walls. 

NCT2020 was incredible in that sense. Twenty three boys and one girl, all in one room, singing the same songs and performing together. The impact left on the spring-flooring when they danced as a group physically shook the mirrors. 

They had a reputation to uphold; something which every single member took as seriously as a blood oath. 

Aria, over the years, had formed bonds with most of the other boys. She hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter; it was either, make friends with the people around you, or have no friends at all. It was lucky, in that sense, that they were all so warm and welcoming. She found her home in the 127 dorms, and later, her family with the Dreamies. She wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

The fact remained, however, that when it came to Aria and WAYV - there was a gap. Be it because of the differing promotional schedules, or the fact that SM had point blank refused to acknowledge WAYV as a sub-unit of NCT up until the announcement of the NCT2020 promotions; the bottom line was, Aria didn’t know half of the members beyond their first name.

So, when the randomized name selection came out, and she was paired with Xiaojun; Aria took a deep breath, and reminded herself that this was a chance to start to form some new relationships.

She’d never been all too good at making friends as a child - always a little too shy, and then all of a sudden far too abrasive in a lost attempt to compensate for her earlier quietness. 

Sitting beside the boy in question, Aria left her hands tucked beneath her thighs to prevent herself from fidgeting. The air between the two vocalists was thick; and Aria found herself looking around desperately for Mark or Ten or hell even Yuta, even though she knew Dejun was significantly more scared of him than her.

Anything to break the awkward, stifling silence that was hanging over the both of them.

“Do you-”

“Hey, I-”

They turned to face each other at the same time, sentences blending together before being cut off abruptly. Aria’s face flamed beneath the foundation, and by the darkening tips of Dejun’s ears, she could tell his cheeks were flushing as well. 

“Go ahead.” He gestured with a nod. 

“No no, it’s okay! What were you saying?” Aria disagreed. 

“Uh, I was just wondering if you feel the breeze as well?” Dejun questioned, hands coming to tug his light jacket around his shoulders tighter. “It’s giving me goosebumps,” He laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Aria frowned. “No? It’s quite warm in here I thought.” The pair were surrounded with several lamps that were shining large bulbs onto their faces. With the heat from them, and the blanket that she had tucked over the legs, Aria was toasty warm - but a quick glance at the thin material Dejun’s jacket was made out of had her untucking the corner and folding it out again. 

“Here,” She offered, holding out the edge of the blanket. 

“Oh no I can’t,” Dejun began to refuse, but a shiver ran down his spine, cutting his words up into pieces. 

Aria raised an eyebrow. He relented.

“Thank you.” He acquiesced, once the soft material had been laid over his lap. He was still shivering lightly, but the body-shaking tremors had worn off, so Aria was better pleased than she was a minute ago. 

“Okay!” A voice called from outside the set. “It’s just an interview, like you were both briefed. Feel free to take it where you want and - Aria can you just -” The director gestured to Dejun. “Don’t sit so far away, people will think you’re scared of him.” He teased. 

Coughing lightly, Aria scooched towards Dejun, the blanket bunching up in-between their legs. She could feel him leaning back slightly, as if he was afraid of their faces being too close together. 

“Little more.” He insisted, now peering at the two through the viewfinder of the camera. 

Aria shuffled into the middle of the set’s sofa, her knee lightly brushing Dejun’s thigh. 

“Better! Now just don’t look like someone’s about to shoot you.” 

Aria opened her mouth before schooling her expression back into something less, terrified. “Sorry!”

This close, she could see the light flush that sat high on Dejun’s cheeks. His eyes were slightly glassy, and his chest was moving at a moderately quicker pace than it had been a few minutes ago. 

Aria placed a hand on his arm, lightly, patting the exposed skin where he had rolled up the sleeves. 

The filming went as well as it could. As they were told prior to entering the set; it was just a couple questions on how they were getting on together as a group, what it was like performing as a mix of all twenty three members, recounting some entertaining tidbits from the practice room or from behind stage. 

Over the next hour, the icy feeling that had surrounded the two vocalists melted into a comfortable conversation, soon drifting away from the interview questions and flowing sweetly into a little chat that czennies were sure to adore. 

With Dejun now turned to face Aria completely, and Aria sitting back with her shoes kicked off and her feet tucked beneath her; they were solely focused on each other; like the cameras had stopped rolling a half hour ago (They hadn’t) and they were old friends, catching up (They weren’t).

Aria learnt that Dejun had a penchant for green tea lattes, and the number eight. He slept on the top bunk, and was a lot funnier than his members gave him credit for. 

Dejun learnt that Aria was a lot more accident prone than her ‘professional image’ would let on, that she has a dimple on her right cheek when she smiles, that when she smiles she beams - bright enough to beat out a lightbulb - and that her favourite colour was yellow and she still looked at the stars when she got homesick.

Aria learnt that Dejun wanted to travel to Paris one day, that he wanted to learn how to bake bread properly and that he stayed up too late playing games only to regret it the next morning every single time. 

Dejun learnt that Aria had an addicting laugh; and he wanted to hear it as many times as he could. That he wishes she’d let herself laugh for longer; that she wouldn’t lift her hand to cover her face as she giggled.

His cheeks flushed brighter, the tips of his ears now a bright red. 

“Dejun? Are you alright?” Aria leant forwards into his space, her face moving closer to his. She had noticed the poor boy’s flush over the course of the last hour; but the pink was slowly becoming a deep red, and her concern was deepening with it.

Dejun immediately pulled back; floundering. “Yeah! Yup, yes, absolutely fine.” 

“Pardon?” 

“I’m doing wonderful! Are you alright? Aria?” Dejun flipped the question on her, sweat beginning to bead beneath his fringe. 

Aria squinted at him, relenting. “I’m okay, yeah. Are you still cold?” 

“No!” The reply was sharp, and she jerked back a little. 

“Oh- okay- sorry?” Aria pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, worrying the skin lightly. 

Dejun could have punched himself in the face, but he settled for pinching himself beneath the blanket where it was out of sight.

“Aaand, cut!” 

The two vocalists turned to the director who was grinning madly. “That was perfect, you two. I don’t know what you did, or where you pulled that from, but you’re definitely the best duo we’ve had in here so far.” 

Aria didn’t think that was hard, there had only been two other groups in before them, but she kept these words wisely to herself. 

“You’re both free to go! I’ll expect to be seeing a lot more of you together though, this is going to go down an absolute treat.” The director’s smug little grin reminded Aria of a cat who had gotten the cream; and her own little grin formed to match it.

“Thank you,” The two bowed lightly towards the staff, before collecting their things from the set and shuffling towards the door again. Once outside, they were silent again - but this time the lack of noise was not unsettling. 

“Hey I-”

“What about-”

Dejun and Aria looked at each other momentarily, before bursting out into laughter. 

“Okay that has to stop.” She giggled, hand coming to rest on his arm. 

“Agreed,” Dejun coughed out, ears flushing one final time. 

“You sure you’re feeling alright? You looked a little flushed back inside; that’s all.” 

“Fine!” He squeaked. “It must have been, uh, the lights, or something. Yeah.”

Aria puffed her cheeks out, but made no further comment.

Pulling away, she slipped her feet into the runners she was wearing for the interview - uncaring as to whether or not she’d accidentally break the backs of them. They were old ones, anyway, ones she’d been gifted as part of a brand deal that had fallen through; no wonder, she thought, as the shoes really were all look and no practicality. They were the least comfortable shoe she owned - and Aria owned a lot of uncomfortable shoes. 

“’Til next time?” She straightened up, head turned to Dejun.

He nodded, going to extend a hand as Aria stepped forward to wrap her arms around him in a hug. 

What followed, was a painstakingly awkward hand-body-shuffle-jerk dance that left Aria’s face flushed red from embarrassment and Dejun’s desire for the ground to open up and swallow him whole growing to immense proportions. 

Eventually, Dejun moved away, waved, turned on his heel and borderline sprinted away back down the hallway before Aria had a chance to return the wave. He rounded the corner, slowing to a stop in anticipation of slamming his head into the wall. However, thinking against it, Dejun instead turned to put his back to the wall, sinking down against it; lifting a hand to smack himself in the forehead. 

“Idiot.” 

[missfiggy]

The Tablet

For dear @clare-with-no-i on her birthday!

I'm always vaguely working on some massively long marauder series for the last three years at Hogwarts but have never come close to finishing it.

Sharing a chapter from the never to be published work that takes place in the summer before Fifth Year. It features some of the architecture and floral and fauna of the beloved Potter House head canon we share, and it's about friendship, so I thought it appropriate for your bday!

Enjoy and happy happy day!

Rating: Probably PG-13 for language and subject matter

The Tablet

“James Potter, you are a bloody idiot,” muttered the boy to himself as he nervously ran his fingers through his unruly mop of black hair.

Standing in a dense oak woodland, James Potter clambered over a few jagged rocks and felled trees to reach his abandoned broomstick that lay near the riverbed of a spluttering stream. He gingerly picked up the gleaming broom handle and gently turned it over in his hands, examining it for any signs of damage. It was his brand new Nimbus 1500, a congratulatory gift from his father for being named captain of his house quidditch team. His brand new broomstick that he just ploughed into the thick old tree trunk.

The accident wasn’t his fault really. James thought back to all the times he whizzed through the forest without incident. His family’s house was situated on the edge of an ancient forest. Since he was a boy, James would run time trials through the trees. First, he’d set the course by hanging scarves over various branches on a winding path. Then, he’d slalom through the trees, retrieving the scarves as quickly as he could manage, each run through an opportunity to shave seconds off his best times.

If I hadn’t been distracted, he thought grimly. James knew that was neither fair nor accurate. He’d flown distracted dozens of times. In fact, he often flew specifically because he was distracted or upset. He knew the speed and the wind and the sky would chip away at his burdened mind until there was nothing left. Just him and pure flight. Still, a niggling memory bounced at the back of his mind, commandeering his thoughts and frustrating him endlessly.

The morning before, James awoke to a dry, high pitch scratching noise: the sound of a writing on a chalkboard. He knew immediately where the sound was coming from. He popped out of bed and stumbled over to his desk. He grabbed a small black slate rectangle upon which white words were appearing in a familiar script. The tablets had been his friend Peter’s idea. A way for James and his four best friends to communicate instantaneously, even when not together. The boys took four pieces of slate and charmed them so that what was written on one would appear on them all. The boys made a pact not to erase til all four of them had initialed the message, indicating it was received (exceptions, of course, were to be made when a slate was at risk of falling into the hands of a parent or a teacher).

Good sirs! Better bring that bottle of Ogden’s next week. I. Am. Now. A. Man. - SB

James knew immediately what his best mate, Sirius Black, meant by that. In their third year, when girls stopped being just slightly better smelling classmates and started becoming the most alluring, terrifying, and confounding creatures imaginable, James and his mates made a pact. If one of the boys ever plucked up the courage to talk to one of the girls, and in talking so persuaded said creature to snog, and in snogging so persuaded said creature to shag, then the other three boys were obliged to chip in and buy a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey for the conquering hero.

Well then, James thought numbly, laying the slate back on his desk, there’s that.

As he thought back to that moment, James couldn’t account for why he hadn’t whooped with joy for his friend. Nor could he account for the sickening twisting feeling that had been growing in his chest over the last day.

James kicked a small rock, sending it careening into the stream where it landed with a satisfying plonk.

Of course Sirius would be the first. He was the oldest, even if only by five months. He also always seemed to be the one breaking new territory in their little group. Sirius was the first to get told off by McGonagall. He was also the first to discover how to get into the Hogwarts kitchens.

Now that James’s mind was on the topic of kitchens, he thought of the pasties Figgy was baking when he’d left that morning. They’d be golden and flaky now. Perhaps it was just hunger twisting his guts. With his broom over his shoulder, he turned to climb back towards home.

But Sirius isn’t always the first in everything, a bitter voice piped in from the back of James’s mind, ploughing over his theory that he was just hungry and not actually upset.

I’m not upset.

Still, James couldn’t help but search through his memory to recall times that he’d been the first to achieve a milestone. There was the first time he got detention...only Sirius had been there as well. James had been the first to be asked to Hogsmeade by a girl. Though even then, James wasn’t clear on whether that point would go to him or Sirius. It had been a very confusing affair. Elspeth Fitzgerald, one of the most popular girls in their year, asked James out, and then asked if Sirius would take out her friend Tamsin, too. Or maybe Elspeth was asking James to ask Sirius to ask Tamsin out, and James came along as the bonus date. He couldn’t be sure. Girls were confusing like that. Either way, James was definitely the first one to properly snog a girl. He remembers that clearly, because as Elspeth was shoving her tongue down his throat, Sirius was trying to get Tamsin to stop crying her bloody head off.

Of course, James conceded, his one time snogging session was not exactly the model of success. Sirius at least had a few follow up dates with Tamsin, and there were rumors all last year that they’d still occasionally snog. Elspeth and James produced about as much heat as a Chinese Fireball with a sore throat.

You were the first to make a house quidditch team, a defiant voice added.

That was right. James was the first, not just his friends, but of his whole bloody year to make a house Quidditch team. He made reserves for Gryffindor his second year and was a proper Chaser in his third. This year was supposed to be his biggest triumph yet. When his school list arrived earlier in the summer, James was honestly surprised to see the gold captain’s badge tumble out of the envelope. Quidditch captain! James could not think of a time when a fifth year had made captain. Even his father had never heard of it. And the Gryffindor team was an older team. There were several sixth and seventh year players who would have been just as deserving, maybe even more, but McGongall chose James.

He hadn’t even mentioned it to his friends yet. He reasoned that, surely, his good friend Moony would also be named prefect that summer. Moony never really got his fair amount of time in the spotlight, given how brilliant he was, so James was happy to sit on his own news until closer to school. He was planning on telling his friends this next week, when the three of them joined James and his father for their annual end-of-summer camping trip on the moors. Sirius’s latest news totally derailed that plan. With topics like shagging on offer, no one would want to talk about silly old Quidditch.

Is that why it bothers me? Because Sirius is going to be the center of attention? James asked himself, feeling a bit unsettled. He finally reached the edge of the woods, pausing to look out onto the grassy clearing that led up to his home. James stood there and tried to probe his own mind, his own feelings. Yes, he liked attention, but what fifteen year old boy didn’t? Did he like it enough to begrudge his friends their own turns in the sun?

Absolutely not, rebutted a vehement voice inside his head.

He was just thinking about how he’d given Moony the whole summer to enjoy the attention of being a newly minted prefect. And Sirius? James and Sirius were even better friends, brothers even. James didn’t resent Sirius because he’d gotten laid. That was ridiculous.

So why does it bother you?

James thought that over as he looked out on vista stretching out from his family’s land. In the distance, exposed rocks jutted out from the valley’s cresting hillside. A great pile of boulders on the farthest tor gleamed rosy pink as the sun sat low on the horizon. He really was fine with the fact that Sirius had been the first to lose his virginity. It was better really, James argued, that way Sirius could tell James what he had learned, and then James would have a better shot of not mucking things up his own first time. Though James supposed for that to happen, he would actually have to sit down with Sirius and talk about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be explained in a letter.

Or on a slate, a nasty voice snorted.

As James turned as made his was towards the house, he was suddenly furious with that stupid little slate. As if all his friends needed all the same information at the exact same time. It was a ridiculous thought to have made them. Probably just Peter’s attempt to feel more included…

Stop that right now, James Potter, he chided himself.

This wasn’t about Peter (and his Gemino charm really was inspired). It wasn’t Pete’s fault James was feeling this way. It wasn’t even Sirius’s fault, James reasoned. Neither of them were responsible for his feelings. It was his own stupid feelings. They were just being unreasonable and running amok and making James feel ridiculous and hurt because Sirius didn’t tell James first.

There it is, James thought, as a bit of tension slowly eased in his chest. He was upset because Sirius didn’t write to him specifically. James and Sirius were not better than their friends, but they were better friends. For all their bravado and performed nonchalance, there was a level of honesty that James and Sirius shared, a closeness. And Sirius let James find out this really big news alongside everyone else, like he was just anyone else. That action did not feel particularly brotherly.

That still left the matter of James feeling ridiculous. He knew, logically, that Sirius progressing did not mean that James was regressing, but it still felt that way. As if Sirius’s new maturity made James by comparison more juvenile. James tried to reassure himself that Peter and Remus would be in the same boat, but even as that thought crossed his mind he questioned its veracity. Though, at the end of last term, Peter had developed a rather determined fixation on breasts. Size, shape, who had them, who didn’t, whose were the best in their year, whose were the best in Britain: Peter had an opinion about all of it. James thought he was taking things a little far, but maybe he’d just reached a maturity point that James had not. And while Remus did not talk about girls or snogging the same way the other lads in their year did but maybe that was a sign also a sign of maturity -- a sign he was even more mature than Peter’s mature. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a seventh year Gryffindor James thought was a cert for the captain’s badge, never prattled on about all the girls he dated. And he’d dated a lot. James worried that he might have been the only boy at school who spent more of the summer thinking about Quidditch than sex.

When James reached the house, he pushed the heavy wood front door open and walked through. The great hall of Hartscombe Hall featured dark wood-paneling that stretched three-quarters of the way up the grey stone walls studded with mullioned windows. There was a fireplace large enough that James could still stand comfortable inside it that stood facing a long wood table.

James stopped short. What his family's great hall did not usually feature was another attractive and black-haired teenage boy sitting at the end of said table. The very same black-haired teenage boy whose actions had sent James’s mind on a discontented tailspin.

“Sirius?” James inquired, as though there was a possibility his eyes were making a fool of him, too.

Sirius smiled warmly, jumping up from the table and throwing his arms around James.. He brushed the long fringe of his sleek black hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. Sirius wore torn up denim trousers with silver pins running through the sides and a stiff leather jacket. James did not doubt that this was some new and absurd muggle fashion fad.

“Sorry for the surprise. I know you weren’t expecting me until tomorrow.”

“Mum and dad will be thrilled to see you, of course.” James said, as he released his friend from the warm embrace, feeling even sillier than he had before. “I’m chuffed too, of course, I mean obviously, but why are you here early?”

Sirius’s mood immediately darkened. “Too much Black family bonding.”

Sirius pulled out his wand and flicked it towards the massive steamer trunk he had brought. Evidently, he was all set to leave for Hogwarts directly from their camping trip. James took the cue, slinging his broom over his shoulder and motioning for Sirius to follow him up the front stairs.

“Was it worse than at Easter?” James asked, referring to the epic row Sirius had with his parents over his choice of friends earlier that year.

“Much,” Sirius said as he clomped up the stairs in his great black boots. “One of my idiot cousins is getting married, and Walburga let their whole family use Grimmauld Place as their London pied-a-terre. Apparently you can’t buy dresses in the country or some such nonsense! Parties and teas and a hen-do. It was a nightmare.”

After dropping off Sirius luggage in his designated guest room on the first floor, the boys continued on to James’s room with Sirius. Before Hogwarts, James’s room was on the first floor as well. A sprawling nursery that had its own playroom and connected to his nanny’s accommodations. Being older now, he’d moved himself up to the spacious second floor which had never been used by the main tenants. James loved the unpolished look of it. His bedroom, a converter storeroom, stretched along the end of the west wing. Old raw wood planks jutted out of the white plaster walls and arched up to meet along a central beam in the middle. James thought of it as the house’s ribcage, it’s structure laid bare.

The design scheme, if it could be so generously called, of James’s room was mercurial. The walls were covered, predictably, with banners in the bright Gryffindor colors and drab Puddlemere brown, as well as a moving poster of all the Quidditch players of the last quarter century that James admired. He pilfered his favorite things from other guest rooms in the house to create a chaotic melange of furniture. He had a massive mahogany four poster bed that required a shrinking charm to get through the doorway. To this he added long bookshelves, a heavy armoire, mismatched couches, a dart board, and even a muggle table-football table. Of all these things, James was proudest of his desk. He assembled it himself by plopping an old barn door on top of empty whiskey casks. They still filled his room with the comforting smell of peat.

Sirius walked towards said desk still nattering on about the absurdity of wedding textiles. “Honestly,” he whinged, “I didn’t even know there were different kinds of lace. Since when do fabrics have sub-fabrics.”

“It’s completely ludicrous,” James agreed. “Hopefully, this week will make up for it. Just the lads, walking all day and sitting by a fire all night, I can almost guarantee no one will be talking about textiles.”

“You saw it,” Sirius said flatly.

“What?” James started, confused by the non sequitur. He turned to see Sirius looking down at the desk. Not at the desk, at what was on the desk. James had left his slate tablet out.

“Er-- yeah,” James said in a hearty voice not wholly his own, “Congratulations, or you know, good on you!”

Sirius laughed just once. It was a hollow, quiet sound. Time droned on and the distance between the two boys stretched with it. Sirius traced his hands across the edge of the tablet as he stared out the window over the desk. In addition to Sirius’s initial pronouncement, the tablet now included a loopy scrawl from Peter asking for more details, and in his untidy scratch Moony inscrutably asked, on behalf of a Mr. Kipling, whether Sirius had indeed run a full sixty seconds worth of distance. James felt unsettled. He knew he needed to say something to end this quiet but conjuring any actual words felt beyond his current abilities.

“D’ya mind?” Sirius asked without turning to look at James. He just held a gold pack of rolled muggle cigarettes above his shoulder.

“Go for it.”

Sirius leaned forward to open the window. James heard the familiar clack and swoosh of a lighter. As Sirius exhaled, James watched his shoulders slump forward, as if the expelled smoke had taken all of Sirius’s swagger with it.

“So, who was the girl?” James asked, breaking the silence. “You didn’t mention dating anyone in your last letter.”

“Well,” Sirius said as he turned, softening his stance and leaning back on the desk. “That could be because I don’t know if we were dating, not really…”

“How’d you meet? Is she a friend of your cousins?”

“Merlin, no!” Sirius sneered. “Though I suppose, I have them to thank for meeting her. Like I said, summer was a misery. Bella and Narcissa practically moved in. And Bella’s completely lost the plot. She’s marrying a Lestrange, but you’d never know it. All she talks about is Voldemort and how he’s bringing pride back to Britain. It’s fucking disgusting. I spent as much time as I could out of the house.”

“You said you were riding alone most days on the Get-A-Round…” James said, quoting from one of Sirius’s early letters.

“The Underground,” Sirius corrected.

James shrugged. He wasn’t taking Muggle Studies, so he’d really never need to know the name of the mad contraption that transports people underneath the streets. Merlin knows he'd never ride on it.

“Anyway,” Sirius continued, “I was riding around a lot at the start, but there’s only so many times you can go around the Circle line. Tried hanging around Diagon Alley for a bit, but it was just more of the same. I ended up just exploring. Few weeks ago, I was wandering around Chelsea. I stumbled into this clothing store on the King’s Road and that’s where I met Cyan--”

“Cyan?!” James interrupted.

“Well, it’s Sarah, really. But she dyed the ends of her hair blue, and she was trying to get everyone to call her Cyan.”

“Fair enough,” James said, “I guess, wizards aren’t really in a position to judge someone’s name. We have some pretty weird ones...”

“Hengeist,” Sirius

“Adalbert.”

“Sawbridge.”

“Wilburforce.” James looked at Sirius to discover they were both, finally, smiling at the same time.

“Well, anyway, I just started going to King’s Road on the days she worked. We’d chat and then meet up after her shift ended. Usually just for coffee, but then, well a couple days ago she invited me over to hers to listen to a new record… and well. You already know how that went.”

James did know, and he nodded sagely at the tablet. For all of James’s mental griping over that stupid note and the frustration it caused, he couldn’t help but be intensely curious about the whole affair. Did she just proposition him out of the blue? Or, were there steps leading up to it? Did he bring wine and candles? James heard a rumor that girls liked for there to be candles.

“You know, I don’t really know why I did this.” Sirius said, tapping the slate tablet quickly with the cherry tip of his cigarette. “I guess... the whole affair just felt like it needed a cap off, you know? A full stop. An exclamation point. Some sort of definite conclusion.”

“Hmm,” James mused, not entirely sure of Sirius’s meaning. “I mean. Did it not… did you not… erm… conclude?”

“That’s not….” Sirius started. He held the cigarette gently between his teeth as he stretched both his arms, clasping them behind his back and puffing out his chest. “It’s like yes. You have sex. And sex on one hand is just sex. Just a physical thing, mechanical even. And I know that. Logically, unemotionally, I know that’s true. I guess I just thought, with the way people go on about it… I guess I just thought there’d be something… more.”

“More than sex?”

“More than just the physical bits...yeah,” Sirius leaned over James’s desk and stretched his arm out the window, tapping the ash off the cigarette. “I just expected to feel something more afterwards. But I was just tired… and slightly sticky.”

James shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. He did not know how to answer Sirius as he had no analogous experiences to share. He supposed that, he too, approached the idea of sex at different levels. There was the fantastical element that he would often indulge in before falling asleep at night. In that realm, there was nothing to fear. Then there was the practicality of it. The fact that he didn’t actually know what to do or how to make it okay for the girl. That was terrifying. When he thought of a hypothetical first time it was just as something to get done.

“You could say something,” Sirius muttered.

“I guess, I just don’t know what to say,” James said honestly.

Sirius turned away to stare out the window again.

“I think that’s why I wrote to you all. There was this big thing that happened, and then I just went home and everything was still as it was. So banal. I sat next to Reg at the dinner table and ate mushy peas. It was like it didn’t even happen.” Sirius got very quiet and looked away from James. In a small voice he said, “Does that make me sound like a nancy?”

“What?” James asked. Until that moment, it really had not occurred to him that Sirius would be feeling anything other than elated and slightly smug. Looking at his best friend now, shoulders slumped, hair falling in his face, and staring determinedly at the tip of the cigarette as if making eye contact with anything else would physically hurt, it was clear Sirius was feeling anything but.

“Mate, no!,” James assured him. “Not at all. It’s supposed to be a very big deal. If it weren’t, we all wouldn’t go around talking about it all the time. And, like, look at what Pete and Remus wrote… okay not so much Remus, but he never makes sense anyway. You know Pete lost his mind over it. You know he won't rest until you give him a moment by moment account and draw him a topographical map of her tits.”

Sirius chuckled, and finally brought his eyes up to meet James’s. “‘S’pose we will all have to deal with that. Pete may be the first student to pursue ‘History of Breasts’ at the NEWT level.”

“He’s a trailblazer.”

“Icon.”

“Legend, really.” James laughed and sidled over next to Sirius, perching up on the text beside him. “Feeling better, then?”

“A bit, thanks. Just wish you’d been there--”

James’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead.

“No! Not, there there,” Sirius explained with a chuckle. “Just afterwards, back at the house. I just never thought I’d go out, shag someone for the first time, then come home at three in the afternoon to see my cousins playing dress-up in the living room. It was too bizarre.”

“I ‘spect all the really big events in life are like that. Stranger and way more awkward than you imagined. We’re all just stumbling our way through life.”

Sirius pulled a face of mock shock and clutched at his chest. “What? No! Not even the great James Potter!?”

“Especially the great James Potter,” James insisted, throwing an elbow at Sirius’s ribs for good measure. “You missed a spectacular faceplant this morning after I ran into a hoar oak on my new racing broom. KAPOW- and the SPLAT! Broom went one way, I went the other…”

“Yeah, well, you’re too pretty anyway. Would do your face some good to bang it up. Let’s see this new broom!”

Sirius tossed the remnants of his cigarette out the window and walked towards the broom lying on James’s bed. He picked it up by its glistening handle, flipping it on end to observe the finely trimmed twigs in the tail.

“Pheeeeew,” Sirius whistled low. “That! Is a damn fine broom, my good man. What’d you do? Manage to intercept all of Minnie’s letters home last year or did you catch Monty snogging Figgy.”

“Gross, Sirius!” James laughed, “Neither. Actually--”

James scurried over to the nightstand next to his best and retrieved his captain’s badge from the uppermost drawer. He was so excited to finally show it to someone other than Figgy and his parents, he could not even find the words. Rather, he simply thrust the golden badge engraved with a large “C” into his best friend's hands.

It took Sirius a moment, though no more than a moment to realize what he was looking at. Joy overtook his whole expression, as his eyes shone and he smiled brightly.

“YES!” Sirius roared, raising a fist in the arm. “WE’VE DONE IT! Sweet Merlin! YES!”

He grabbed James and pulled him into another hug, patting him on the back for good measure. James’s heart leapt in his chest at seeing his friend's joy.

Sirius was laughing as he stood back and examined the badge closely.

“It’s not a fake,” James said, “Letter had my name on it and everything.”

“That’s not what I’m-- do you see this? What does that says?” Sirius asked, holding the badge up to James face.

James squinted through his glasses. He did not see anything in the area Sirius was indicated. Only a brightly polished, immaculate gold surface.

“It doesn’t say anything there, mate.”

“Yes it does,” Sirius insisted. “Right there. It says ‘I’m better than Shacklebolt”

James shoved Sirius playfully, but Sirius just held the badge higher as he insisted that his best friend would be the best Quidditch Captain Hogwarts had ever seen. From James’s heart burst forth a wellspring of gratitude and joy. Being an idiot wasn’t so bad, he thought, as long as your friends were idiots, too.