#anyway. so many fucking missed opportunities there. i wish i’d been more open about it all instead of just locking up but i was younger

[yabai-korra]

The reasons why we're getting Manorian book

There has been a lot of speculation whether SJM is going to favor us with book/novella about Manon Blackbeak and Dorian Havilliard, recently I saw some fans doubting it, so here's a list of logical reasons why it's happening.

1. It's SJM

This woman writes two 500+ pages books per year, for her it would be a piece of cake.

2. There have already been books focused on side characters

a) Chaol and Yrene - Chaol was one of the most unpopular characters before Tower of Dawn (which made me love him hehe) and she still wrote a 600+ pages long book about him, just imagine what she'd do with the most popular character (Manon) and one of the most popular ones (Dorian).

b) Nesta and Cassian - this is ship is the closest to Manorian equivalent in ACOTAR series, aka starting from a physical relationship that develops into a sentimental one. Also 6th ACOTAR book will be focused on a new characters (most probably Elain)

3. Favoritism

SJM has talked multiple times about her love for these two. When asked about her favorite TOG character, she said Aelin, but Manon was a close second place and she said that she absolutely loves writing her.

In another interview, when asked who she would go on a book tour with and a few similar questions, she answered Dorian.

Now, I haven't seen all of her interviews ever and I'm not sure how much she loves Nessian and Cahorene (seems to love Nessian a hella lot tho), but it's definite that Manorian are some of her favorite characters and it's just logical that she would write about them.

4. Unfinished story/Unresolved feelings

Ships at the end of TOG:

Rowaelin - married

Elorcan - engaged

Lysaedion - engaged

Chaorene - married with a baby on the way

Nestaq - engaged

Manorian - hug and "we'll see"

All the ships basically got engaged in the last chapter (it's not like I didn't like it hehe) and their stories, romantic-wise, were pretty much finished and they have no unresolved tension between them. Manorian on the other hand, have enough of it for all the ships lol.

KOA spoilers ahead!

Keep in mind, Manorian relationship was mostly a sexual one, and they don't quite yet have a way of communicating their feelings properly. So there is a lot of unaddressed between them, even though they obviously care a lot about each other.

The unresolved things between Manon and Dorian:

"“And if I asked you to stay?” / “I’d need a very convincing reason, I suppose.” / “Because I don’t want you to go.” - they just fucked and Dorian left for Morath later, which impacted Manon a lot but they haven't discussed it

"I even care about you." - Manon got up and left

"There is only one witch who will be my queen." - Manon doesn't know about this

Manon saved Dorian from Valg demon even when Aelin couldn't. It was the worst thing to happen to Dorian and he still bears scars from it, yet he didn't have an appropriate situation to thank Manon for it

Dorian knows that Erawan lusted after Manon, which got him pissed of course, and he didn't have a chance nor time to ask Manon about it. It might be nothing, but if I were Dorain and my girlfriend who doesn't show feelings was locked up with a crazy guy who has a thing for her, and have seen the way he treats women, I'd be concerned. Erawan was a Valg king, a tough opponent even for Manon. If he had done something to her, and he had plenty of means and opportunities and wish to do so, Manon would never openly tell anyone (maybe Asterin) about it, because it would imply opening up and being weak, which is Manon's worst fear. Again, SJM, as the Queen of Foreshadowing, wouldn't just randomly throw in the main villain having a thing for an important character, everything in her books always has a meaning and purpose.

"Would you miss me if I didn't [come back]?" - Manon didn't reply

This is how SJM described Manorian marriage: "She would be his wife, his queen. She was already his equal, his match, mirror in so many ways. And with their union, the world would know it." - and you're telling me it's not deserving of its own book? Not just that, Manon asked Dorian for marriage and they, again, just had sex, with Dorian loving the idea but deep down knowing that Manon would feel caged in a marriage. And that attitude won't just change out of the blue. It takes time and development which is something SJM writes amazingly.

With the Thirteen gone, beside Abraxos Dorian is the only creature Manon cares about.

Dorian's mortality (although as you'll see in point #6 I'm sure he's not human)

The dreaded "You could just marry each other." / "We'll see." (Thanks Yrene :)

5. Foreshadowing

Listen here, SJM IS THE QUEEN OF FORESHADOWING. She thought of a detail (Dorian's dad's name) in the first book that would matter in the last book. Of course, there are many many many more examples of that, but if we got "We'll see." then we'll fucking see it happen.

6. Unresolved things about Manon and Dorian as individual characters.

Manon and Dorian and both pretty broken at the end of KOA.

Manon lost the Thirteen, the only people she cared about. That is a huge trauma that needs to be addressed, especially with someone so reluctant to show feelings and heal like Manon.

Dorian can't be human?? He has fae abilities due to his relation to Gavin and Elena even though he's not even called a demi-fae. He possesses powers no one else does, phantom hands for example, which he didn't steal like shape-shifting. And Maeve pointed out that due to his father being possessed by Valg when Dorian was sired, it's possible he got some of the Valg abilities. (Also she said that he's stronger than Aelin) The main villain, especially written by Queen of Foreshadowing, wouldn't just let drop it there and that's it. Also not to mention Dorian's own struggle with depression and self-worth.

They have both just become rulers of their kingdoms, completely new to it. Dorian has spent a big part of KOA imagining what kind of a king he wants to be (one that will have a witch queen hehe) and it was a major point of his character. And addition to that affecting them as characters, the future of Adarlan and Witch Kingdom could make a good plotline.

7. Other TOG characters

Although pretty much all the readers would die to see Chaorene baby, Lorcan in Perranth, Aelin and Rowan ruling Terrasen, Lysandra and Adeion officially adopting Evangeline, Nesryn and Sartaq becoming Khagan and Empress of Antica, all of these don't make enough of a plot on its own. They are great side-plots.

We know all of these characters love each other and are happy together, there isn't that much to be added to their personal stories other than kids. (same way Feyre and Rhys got a baby in Nessian book) Manorian however, they haven't even kissed without it leading to sex, they hugged at the end of KOA and it was the pique of their relationship. Their relationship is merely at the beginning, whereas others have pretty much reached their ultimatum (ofc SJM can decide to add some drama with betrayal, kidnapping, pregnancy etc. but for now everyone is good and settled beside Manorian)

Not to mention the way other relationships would affect them. Chaol, Dorian's brother, and Yrene, Manon's wannabe bestie and Manorian shipper, would bring their baby to meet his/her uncle Dorian and aunt Manon, and imagine Manon with a baby lol.

SJM loves Aelin and other characters way too much not to give us an insight on them as married couples, but since her books are huge and it's her, it needs a plot with drama, addressing traumas, repressed feelings, worldbuilding, and sex, and Manorian's got all of that.

8. Abraxos

We need more Abraxos, that's just a fact.

Wow that was a long one. Anyways, in conclusion, we're getting that Manorian book. Pretty sure it's gonna a book rather than a novella (TOD was also planned as a novella but then guess what) because there is just SO MUCH possible content.

[apr1cots]

a handful of birthdays

on harry’s 20th birthday, luna brought draco to the pub, but he sat quietly and didn’t talk. harry got far too drunk. memories of the war were fresh and any opportunity to forget led to three too many shots and an extra pint or two of beer. harry didn’t say anything to draco, not even acknowledging him beyond the polite nod of recognition he’d given when draco had sat down. he was too tired to fight anyone anymore and draco just sat enigmatically sipping slowly on a drink harry didn’t recognize.

on harry’s 21st birthday, they were back at the pub but this time draco smiled all night and laughed when harry made stupid jokes. luna rested her head on his shoulder when she got too tired and he held her close. he gave harry a book about curses, promising not to use any of them against him with his signature on the first page.

on harry’s 22nd birthday, draco looked soft in the warm light of ron and hermione’s flat. harry’s heart skipped several beats when draco caught his eye and signaled him to step outside, but settled into a familiar dull ache when draco simply handed him a tin of dark chocolates. “they’re dosed with a potion that will help you sleep.” draco neglected to mention that he’d spent months creating them just for harry and lied about the scar on his left hand that he’d burned in the process. harry watched draco’s lips while he talked, mind reeling, but hugged his friend goodbye at the end of the night.

on harry’s 23rd birthday, ginny begged and begged until he relented and everyone ended up in the middle of a deafening club, dancing raucously, throwing caution to the wind, in a way draco commonly enjoyed criticizing. harry’s heart stumbled when draco appeared at the bar, loud lights changing his white blond hair a million colors, a glass of sparkling water in each hand. everyone screamed when ginny and pansy kissed on the dance floor, but draco laughed knowingly and tugged on harry’s hair to catch his attention before throwing him a wink. disarray dissolved into absolute chaos after that and somehow everyone else was gone at half past midnight and draco offered to walk harry home.

“soooo, our exes are an item i guess.”

“i hardly count pansy as an ex,” draco snorted and harry looked up too quickly when the backs of their hands bumped together.

“still though. it’s…”

“yeah.”

harry floundered for something to say and came up with nothing, but with draco it was okay. they listened to the night and the cars on the street and the happy music spilling out of one fourth floor flat three streets from harry’s place. their hands bumped together twice more, but harry forced his gaze to remain on the sidewalk.

at the entrance to harry’s building, he stalled, turning towards draco and opening his mouth to say something, anything, when draco kissed him.

it was unlike any kiss harry had ever had, washing over him in equal parts panic, shock, delight, and sweet sweet, long-awaited relief. when draco pulled away he smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his own neck with an uncertainty antithetical to the grip he’d had on harry’s neck moments before.

“draco…”

“i’m sorry, i just-“

“no. we should’ve done that a long time ago.”

“really? because-” harry laughed and cut him off, kissing him until neither of them could breathe.

on harry’s 24th birthday, they held hands under the table at the burrow. happiness tickled them all and it was loud in the way that it hadn’t been after the war. after fred and tonks and remus and all of their friends. around the fire that night, they talked about the people they missed in the way that people do when they have wounds that will never heal. but even with a heavy heart, harry fell asleep warm and grateful and with his person, not wishing his world was any different.

on harry’s 25th birthday, draco sat at the foot of his hospital bed, reading a novel and waiting for harry to wake. when he did, draco kissed his cheeks and rolled his eyes at harry making light of the situation. harry forced draco to crawl under the covers with him even though draco had claimed it beneath him. draco’s entire torso fluttered with stupid butterflies when he handed harry the jewelry box.

“merlin, draco is this-”

“i asked if they’d let me keep the bullet when they took it out. they thought i had lost the plot, but I really played up the distressed lover act and they relented.” he helped harry put the necklace on. “i… salazar, this sounds so juvenile but in this book i read they said ‘i’d take a bullet for you,’ and i… fuck, harry, there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you.”

on harry’s 26th birthday, he stretched lazily in the italian sun like a cat. draco watched him run down to the water’s edge appreciatively and ignored the puppy dog eyes that begged him to join. they pretended they were strangers but couldn’t keep up the act and laughed eating chocolate-covered strawberries under a thick blanket of stars. harry kissed draco’s neck and hummed contentedly into his warm skin. draco’s hands combed through his messy hair and they talked about their first kiss all those years ago, grinning like fools. fools in love.

on harry’s 27th birthday, they went back to their favorite pub with their favorite people, but didn’t get drunk. they rarely drank anymore and went home at eleven. draco was embarrassed but harry just squeezed his hip and told him he wanted to grow old with him anyways and that they might as well start now.

on harry’s 28th birthday, he sat on the floor of his kitchen with a bottle of dark liquid, half empty and no tears left to cry. he’d been dreading the day for weeks. it didn’t matter who wished him happy birthday, because he knew that the one person who really mattered wouldn’t say a word. his heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought was survivable and in his darkest moments, he still didn’t know how he could possibly keep on living. nothing was right without draco and it wasn’t fair that he felt so empty when draco appeared to be completely fine. how could draco be so okay without him? draco lived in his head, their arguments playing on a loop. but more than that, harry couldn’t stop thinking about the good times, the best times. he couldn’t stop dreaming about the way draco held his hand when they were in public and the way he mouthed the words to whatever book he was reading when he thought no one was watching. harry missed him so badly he couldn’t even breathe.

on harry’s 29th birthday, harry was breathless with laughter in his sitting room with his friends. rose sat on his lap, trying to steal his glasses, while teddy performed a dramatic reenactment of harry running into a pole at the park the day before. someone knocked on the door. he handed rose to her father and was met by draco on his porch. his hair was longer, but he was the same as harry’s draco had always been, sinfully beautifully, with soft eyes and pinked cheeks. 

“draco?”

fooooor @drarrymicrofic prompt: bullet 

[keijislove]

Hello ! Could you do a harry × hufflepuff!reader with the promps 6 ans 14 ? Thank you !😊😊

A/N: Hi! Sorry if it’s a bit long... This was the first request I got off anon, lmao 

ENJOY!!

Prompts used: 

6. 'Don't make me hex you into the next year! ' 'I'd like to see you try.'        14. ‘My Ammortentia smells like you...’

Strawberries: Harry Potter X Hufflepuff!Reader

It was just another day in Slughorn’s Potions class, you stirring your cauldron while daydreaming.

‘Who do you think yours will smell like?’ asked Luna. ‘I feel mine is going to be a Crumple-Horned Snorcack.’

You stuffed your knuckles into your mouth to prevent yourself from giggling. ‘I, um, don’t know.’

‘What do you smell? I know it’s weird... for you, having a soulmate or whatever.’

See, that was one of the things you adored about Luna.

You couldn’t possibly keep a secret around her, somehow, she just knew. But it also allowed you to seek her consolation at times without having to embarrass yourself by telling her what it was.

Why?

Well, she was Luna Lovegood after all.

You were one of the best potion students, and were fairly good at all your other classes, Luna and Cho kept asking you why you weren’t a Ravenclaw.

You just hoped your Potion skills could help you find out who you were meant to be with...

You swallowed, snapping out of your daze. ‘Uhm, yeah, not sure. Hope it’s someone nice.’

‘That’s sweet.’ Luna remarked in her same, breathless voice.

You smiled.

‘Alright, now, time’s up.’ Slughorn clapped his hands together. ‘Who wants to share what their Ammortentia smells like? Miss Diggory?’

You cursed internally. ‘Yes, Professor.’

You took a sniff. ‘Sir, it’s, um, treacle tart, um.... pumpkin juice? Yes, and...’

You sniffed again.

‘... muddy grass?’ You spoke.

‘Very good, miss Diggory!’

‘What was it?’ Luna asked as you left. ‘The muddy grass?’

‘Can you stop doing that?’ you joked. ‘It’s freaky.’

‘Don’t change the subject Y/N.’

You sighed. ‘It smelled like, I dunno like quidditch robes or something. Maybe it’s a sporty guy.’ You mumbled.

You didn’t have to specify who, it was Luna.

‘How do you know what boys’ quidditch robes smell like?’ Luna questioned as you whacked her with your book.

-----------

You traced shapeless patterns on the grass, softly caressing your yellow scarf with your other hand.

It was a scarf you were very proud of.

Your brother had given it to you, and it was the last thing he ever did give you, to be completely honest...

Your tiny ‘revisit’ was interrupted by a sneer behind you.

‘Hey Diggory, who did your potion smell like?’ Malfoy asked in his horrible, drawling voice. ‘Longbottom?’

‘I seriously don’t understand what you’ve got against Neville.’ You spoke. ‘And no, if you must know. It smelt like someone else.’

‘Bet it was a grave.’ Malfoy sniggered. ‘Oh, where’s your brother?’

You tensed up immediately, but stroked your scarf to calm down.

‘Patience is one of the most important qualities a true Hufflepuff should possess,’ Cedric had told you. ‘And you, Y/N/N, are one of the best Hufflepuffs I know.’

‘Where is he?’ Malfoy continued.

‘Shut up.’ You spoke through gritted teeth.

‘It’d be nice if he’d passed some of his qualities onto you.’ Pansy lazily called. ‘At least he was good-looking. Look at you, bag of pickled toads.’

‘Shut up, prat.’ You warned.

‘Blimey Diggory... is your brother dead?’ Malfoy asked. ‘I didn’t even notice...’

That was the last straw.

‘

Oh, fuck patience.’ You muttered under your breath, lunging at him.

‘Argh!’ Malfoy groaned as you socked him square in the stomach. ‘Geroff me, you lunatic!’

‘What’s going on?’ Harry, Ron and Hermione had approached you.

Understanding the situation, Ron and Harry both seized either arm of yours while Hermione ripped Draco off of you before both of you could hex each other too badly.

‘Get-off-me!’ you snarled in Harry’s face.

‘No.’

‘GET-OFF-STUPID-PRAT-’ you struggled against his firm grasp. ‘IDIOT-CEDRIC-NOT-FUNNY-’

‘What exactly are you trying to say?’ Hermione asked, confused.

‘Shut up Granger, I don’t want to talk about this.’ You spat, snatching your bag up and ‘accidentally’ whacking Harry with it, before leaving.

-----------

‘What happened?’ your friend, Hannah had asked when you had stormed into the common room.

‘Malfoy.’ You curtly answered. ‘And Potter.’

‘You know, I don’t see why you hate him so much.’ Ernie walked up.

‘Who doesn’t hate Malfoy?’

‘No, no, I meant Harry.’ He spoke.

You groaned.

This was a subject they’d brought up millions of times.

‘He is a prat, for one.’ You began. ‘He’s so bloody proud... all the teachers fawning over him, Slughorn calling him ‘special’, heck, even Snape would be happy now that he’s suddenly become excellent at Potions. I reckon he cheats off Granger.’

‘Nah, Hermione isn’t like that.’ Hannah said.

‘And he is thick-headed.’ You finished.

‘Oh, is that it?’ Ernie smirked. ‘You’re jealous of him?’

‘OI!’

-----------

‘Good morning.’ Professor McGonagall crisply greeted. ‘In the five years you’ve been with me, you have learnt that Transfiguration is not a topic to be messed around with. And as you start your sixth year, I expect you all to behave more mature with this subject, especially you, Mr. Smith.’

Zacharias Smith scowled at her.

‘Now.’ She continued. ‘Who remembers what I had told you all at the beginning of your first year at Hogwarts? Miss Diggory?’

‘Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,’ you recited, trying to imitate her voice. ‘Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.’

The class howled with laughter.

‘Charming, Miss Diggory.’ Professor McGonagall sarcastically remarked, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of her lips twitch.

You grinned to yourself.

‘Now, as Miss Diggory said.’ She spoke. ‘There will be no messing around. I demand silence as I declare... the Gryffindors shall be joining us today.’

You knew by ‘silence’ she meant your groans.

You stuffed your handkerchief into your mouth before groaning quietly.

The red-scarved students made their way in.

McGonagall began assigning partners.

‘Weasley with Macmillan, Brown with Smith, Granger with Abbott and Potter... with Diggory.’

‘Not with him!’ you yelled at the same time as Harry yelled ‘Not with her!’

‘Yes, definitely together.’ The Professor mumbled.

You scoffed as Harry sat next to you, both of you glaring daggers at each other.

‘Look, I don’t want to fail this subject.’ You warned. ‘My career depends on it, so will you try to act civil?’

‘Yeah, I’ll try.’ Harry sneered. ‘Do you even have a career plan?’

‘For your information!’ you hotly began. ‘I do. I want to become an Auror.’

‘Auror?’ a small flicker of interest flashed in his eyes but vanished as you rolled your eyes and turned to your work.

Harry sniffled.

He paused, terror rising up inside him.

He croaked out. ‘Do you... can you smell strawberries? And vanilla?’

‘Oh.’ You frowned. ‘Um, yeah, the strawberries would be my shampoo and... the vanilla would be my lotion, why?’

‘No reason.’

---------

‘Oh, merlin’s arse.’ You muttered, trying to get past a horde of boys wanting to ask you to Slughorn’s Party.

You knew they didn’t like you; they just wanted an excuse to attend it.

‘FOR THE LAST TIME, SOD OFF!’ you yelled, shoving past.

They still followed you.

You ran to the library, where you met a certain Chosen One.

‘Don’t mind me.’ You huffed. ‘Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t tell them I’m here!’

Harry opened his mouth to say that it was alright, but stopped as a smirk settled on his face.

‘No.’

‘What?’ you asked. ‘Merlin’s arse, please! I told you, I’ll do anything!’

‘Anything?’ he cheekily asked.

‘Anything.’

‘Hmm... let’s see.’ Harry smirked further, thoroughly enjoying himself.

'Don't make me hex you into the next year!' you warned.

'I'd like to see you try.'

Brandishing your wand, you tried thinking of a jinx while Harry stood there with an amused expression on his face.

‘I’ll tell them you’re here.’ He said lazily.

‘Oh, alright!’ you snapped. ‘You win, I’ll give you whatever you want, now let me hide!’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise, MOVE!’

You dove behind a shelf and stayed.

Meanwhile, Harry was having the time of his life.

He wasn’t going to rat you out to those guys anyway, but there was something on his mind and he couldn’t pass up the perfect opportunity.

As a stampede of boys rushed over, Harry realised why you were so desperate to hide.

‘She’s not here.’ He coolly spoke. ‘Try the Hall.’

‘How should we know you’re not helping her hide?’ a Ravenclaw demanded.

‘Have you met me?’ Harry sarcastically said. ‘I don’t help my enemies.’

Yes, as lame as it had sounded, they seemed to buy it.

‘I don’t help my enemies?’ you questioned, climbing out of the shelf.

‘It... it sounded cooler in my head.’ Harry muttered.

You supressed a giggle. ‘Well, O’ Chosen One, what can I do for you?’

‘Er, about that.’ Harry began. ‘I wanna ask you something first?’

‘Yes?’

He smirked again. ‘Do you actually have a date?’

You covered your face and groaned. ‘No, they don’t even like me, they just want to get out of detention or come to the party, most of them.’

‘Mmhmm.’ Harry said distractedly.

‘Do you have a date?’ you shot back.

‘I will, by the end of this hour.’ Harry nonchalantly replied.

‘Whatever.’ You huffed. ‘What do you want.’

‘Be my date for Slughorn’s Party.’

If you had been drinking water, you were sure you would’ve spit it out.

You opened and closed your mouth like a goldfish.

‘What?!’ you finally sputtered.

‘Be my date for Slughorn’s Party.’ He repeated.

‘No.’ you stated. ‘No, no, no way, no.’

‘You promised!’

‘WHY DO YOU WANT TO TAKE ME?’ you yelled. ‘Take Ginny Weasley or Cho or something.’

‘But I want to take you.’ He said.

‘Why?!’

‘Our deal did not include so many questions.’ Harry cut off. ‘You’re coming, that’s final.’

‘Oh, well, fine!’ you snarled, stomping off.

Damn your loyal arse.

----------

‘I look ridiculous.’ You remarked, looking in the mirror.

‘Nonsense, you look amazing!’ Hannah squealed. ‘I’m so jealous, I wish I could go too.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ You muttered.

You were wearing a(n) F/C dress, complete with your H/C hair falling elegantly onto your shoulders.

‘Oh, I forgot to ask.’ Hannah spoke, ‘Who’s your date?’

‘You do not want to know the answer to that question.’ You said. ‘Believe me.’

Hannah shrugged. ‘You look hot! Have fun!’

You walked in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, waiting for your ‘date’ to come along.

‘Hurry up, Potter.’ You muttered.

As if on cue, a voice sounded behind you.

‘Someone say my name, Diggory?’

There he stood, in all his glory, Harry Potter, the Boy With a Large Smirk Plastered Across His Face.

‘Can you not do that?’ you whined.

‘What?’

‘That weird face.’ You spoke. ‘It’s annoying.’

‘My apologies. Shall we, m’lady?’ he offered you his arm in mock-kindness.

‘Of course.’ You played along, taking it.

‘Where is this positive energy when you threaten to break my arms almost ten 

times a day?’ he quizzed in amusement.

‘Shut up.’

---------

Boring.

That’s how you were feeling.

You desperately wished you hadn’t agreed to come to this stupid party.

Harry seemed to notice your gloomy mood.

‘What’s wrong?’ he whispered.

‘Look at this.’ You muttered in disgust. ‘Look at all of them, sapping over each other when they barely know the other.’

He laughed. ‘Wanna slip out?’

‘Where are we going to go?!’ you asked in exasperation.

‘I know somewhere.’

---------

‘The Astronomy Tower?’ you questioned.

‘I like coming here when I’m bored.’ Harry shrugged. ‘Looking at the stars calms me.’

You nodded, understanding.

‘Let’s... sit.’

You sat down as Harry copied you, settling down next to you.

‘This is nice.’ You remarked.

‘What is?’

‘Not having to fight with you.’ You explained as Harry laughed.

‘Maybe we just assume too much.’ He suggested, causing you to giggle.

It was a sound pleasant to Harry’s ears, and for some reason, he wanted to hear it again.

‘I never asked.’ He began. ‘And I’m sorry. How have you been, er, holding up?’

He didn’t need to explain, you understood.

‘I’m fine.’ You answered. ‘I do miss him, awfully so, but... nothing’s changed much.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that it’s still the same.’ You explained. ‘Nobody comforts me. Nobody knows me as Y/N Diggory, my best friend or Y/N Diggory, the girl from Hufflepuff, none of that. I was always Y/N Diggory, Cedric Diggory’s stupid younger sister. And now I’m Y/N Diggory, the late Cedric Diggory’s mourning sister.’

‘Oh. That’s... well, at least you’ve got your parents.’ Harry mumbled.

You let out a mirthless laugh. ‘I’d trade places with you, then. See, it’s the same at home. I’m just... an extra waste of space. Even mum and dad preferred Cedric. I’m the useless one, you see. Next to their beautiful son Cedric, I was always second best. Y/N. Their second-born. The less talented one. The stupid one. The non-attractive one.’

Your voice cracked a bit at the end, but you composed yourself. ‘I’m being thick, you probably think I’m stupid.’

‘I don’t think you’re stupid.’ Harry muttered. ‘How come you never cry? Like Cho, I mean.’

‘Because I don’t want to appear weak for him.’ You sighed. ‘You see, as much everyone preferred Cedric over me, I still loved him. I loved him quite a lot, actually. He hated it when I cried. I remember once when we were young, Cedric fell out of a tree and hurt his leg so badly, I started crying because of how bad it looked. He didn’t have any of it. He always told me, ‘Whatever happens, Y/N/N, don’t cry. You’re strong. You’re tough. And I can’t bear seeing you in tears. If and when a day comes where you cry because of me, I swear I will never forgive myself.’ And there he was such an idiot. Put his name in the Goblet. Went along and got murdered by Voldemort, didn’t he?’

Harry didn’t speak, so you continued.

‘I just wonder.’ You whispered. ‘You know, if he’s watching us this very moment. Somewhere from up there.’

You gestured to the stars.

Your head was turned towards the sky, but Harry couldn’t stop staring at you.

‘And so I know.’ You said, ‘I know if I cry, he’s up there somewhere, feeling disappointed in me. I don’t need anymore of that. I’ve had enough of ‘Diggory’s sister Y/N’ and ‘The ugly one’ or ‘the useless one’ it’s maddening.’

‘I don’t think you’re useless.’ Harry whispered. ‘Nor ugly. And you always were Y/N Diggory to me.’

‘That’s a bit consoling.’ You mustered a weak smile. ‘Thanks.’

At that moment, a familiar smell made it’s way to your nose and you gasped.

‘Your hair.’ You shakily whispered. ‘It... it smells like fresh, muddy grass.’

‘Oh.’ Harry flushed. ‘Er, yeah, sorry, I had Quidditch earlier this evening.’

‘Oh my god.’ You muttered. ‘No way.’

‘What?’

‘If I tell you something, Potter.’ You began. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’

‘I would never.’

You swallowed. ‘I think...My Ammortentia smells like you...’

Harry didn’t speak.

‘Go ahead, laugh.’ You muttered, trying your best not to cry then and there. ‘Run away. Hex me or something.’

Harry couldn’t think straight.

Your delicious scent was ever-so inviting, the strawberries fresh in your newly shampooed hair.

His gaze kept unwillingly flickering to your soft-looking lips, covered in a light tint of cherry lip-gloss.

As the lips he was looking at pressed themselves into a think# line, his gaze shifted towards the rest of your face, and to his horror, you were crying.

‘No, no, no, no!’ he said quickly.

‘What?’ you hiccoughed a little, ‘Go ahead, call me names or just leave.’

‘No, Y/N!’ he pressed. ‘Don’t cry, no please. I didn’t mean... no, I was just thinking. I think my Ammortentia smelt like you too.’

You let out a tiny gasp.

Neither of you knew what you were doing, somehow, your lips had messily collided and were now moving in sync.

You brought out a hand and tangled it into Harry’s untameable hair as he softly caressed your cheek.

Both of you parted, lips swollen, gasping for breath.

‘Well...’ he began. ‘That was unexpected.’

[bopbopstyles]

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST 

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault. 

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

or

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.  

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat.  You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together.  That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?”  Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.  

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.  

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you  were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and  see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room.  The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping,  and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time  with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his,  the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?”  You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.  

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized,  and shifted away so he could get at his computer.  

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK,  a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”  

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower,  a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”  

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and  you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

[lesbian-dp]

Cold-Blooded Killer

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,359

Warnings: Fighting, violence, blood, hate, finger fucking, wall sex, talks of bondage... p sure that’s it.

Request: Nope.

Summary: You’re a cold-blooded killer. And Natasha’s been on your ass ever since you could remember.

Ko-Fi

18+ ONLY.

Being an assassin for hire a lot of things were thrown your way.

Hit's, of course, were obvious. That was your job after all.

There were also the rich snobby assholes that you had to deal with. The hellish time schedules, changing for every hit. The background checks on all of your hits and hires.

People may think you're a cold-blooded killer, that will take on any job, as long as the pay's right.

But they were wrong. You did have a moral compass still, albeit warped. But you still made sure that the people you hit weren't about to cure cancer or solve world hunger. And for that, you gave yourself a moral win.

Not to mention the, oh so many, bounties on your head, and the targets on your back. The guilt on your hands. But the worst of all being the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. was constantly on your ass.

The main pain in your ass being none other than, Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow herself.

Said Black Widow currently occupied by smashing your head into the livingrooms wall, of your not so safe, safe house.

You hissed in pain. Natasha never once removing her palm from the side of your head, keeping you tightly pressed into the wall. As she pointed the barrel of her gun at you.

Watching out of the corner of your eye, you saw blood dripping from her nose, and busted lip. A bruise beginning to form above her left eyebrow.

You would bet every penny you had on the chances that you look so much worse than she did.

"God," Natasha scoffed, "How are you even an assassin? And a successful one, at that."

Smirking a bloody smile at her, you raised your arm, pushing Natasha's back and away from your temple. Your other arm snapping up to block her from shooting you. The bullet streaming past your ear and straight into the wall behind you. Lastly, you harshly brought your head down onto Natasha's, sending her stumbling back dizzily.

Natasha brought her free hand up to hold her now throbbing forehead. Giving you the opportune moment to pull your leg up and kick her square in her abdomen. Making her tumble over the back of the sofa, then onto the floor.

Picking up her dropped gun, you said, "You can hardly talk."

Hopping over the back of the sofa, stepping off of the cushions, you looked down at Natasha, laying on the floor winded and dazed.

"You doing alright there, firecracker?" you cooed sarcastically.

"I fucking despise you."

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual." You placed your hands on your hips. "Need a hand, sweetheart?"

"I don't need anything from you!"

"Sure ya don't! That's why S.H.I.E.L.D. makes you follow me. All the fucking time."

"What do you expect? You're an assassin," Natasha replied, uneasily getting up, with a hand still caressing her forehead.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," you snarked.

Natasha glared at you, "I don't do that anymore."

"It looks like you don't do many things anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?!" she snapped.

"You know exactly what that means, baby girl," you sneered, "I know just as well as you do, how much you're craving a good fucking right now."

Natasha groaned in disdain, "You're disgusting."

"And you love it!"

"I hate you."

You laughed at her words, throwing your head back as you did.

"You didn't seem to hate me all that much, when I had you under me, as you begged for more."

Natasha sneered at you, knowing just how much she wanted to shoot you, right then and there.

"There's just something so satisfying, about fucking someone you hate, isn't there?"

"Shut, the fuck, up," she snarled.

"Why?" you asked with a smirk, "Getting horny?"

Natasha laughed darkly, throwing her head back as she did.

"I cannot wait until I throw you into prison, and I never need to see your face again."

"Until it's time for a conjugal visit," you sassed.

"Who said you will ever get one of those?"

"The fact that you can't get enough of me."

"We haven't had sex in almost three years," she scoffed.

You were close to her now, after having thrown Natasha's gun to the side, and across the room. Bearly an inch from being pressed up against her gorgeous body. Able to whisper in her ear.

"And that's what makes you want me so much."

Whatever breath you had, was harshly pulled from your lungs. When Natasha roughly pushed you away from her, causing you to stumble back a few steps.

"I think the only one here who wants sex, is you," Natasha sneered.

"Oh, really?" you asked.

"Yes."

"Then, please, tell me why your nipples are so hard that they're popping through your suit."

Natasha shot you a weary look, before deciding to bite the bulled and peer down at her breasts. Seeing that you were, in fact, right.

Laughter poured from your chest as Natasha's shocked face snapped up to look at you.

"It's cold in here," she tried to explain it away, with a haphazard excuse.

"Oh, honey," you cooed sickenly sweet as you moved closer to her. Finally pressing your body against her lithe one, that had also moved to press up against the wall behind her, "I'd thought you'd do better than that."

"Fuck you!"

"You will."

***

"You're a fucking monster!" Natasha screams at you!

"Oh, that's real rich, coming from you, Natalia! Or do I have to remind you of your past?!"

Well... this was not what you expected to happen.

Everything was going fine- Well, as fine as they could be, considering everything. Natasha had been pressed up in between you and the wall, one minute. Her nipples, hard enough to rival diamonds, pushed against you. Then you were ten feet away from her, screaming at each other, the next.

Natasha knew that you would run before she even got a chance to take you in. So, she secretly called for back up, while you were too distracted with her being "trapped" between you and the wall.

Now the only thing she had to do was keep you here until they came. And having a screaming match was one hell of a way to do that.

"You see! That's the difference between you and me!" she yelled back at you, "I changed! And you're the same old assassin low-life, who took my virginity!"

"You say that as if you didn't want me too!"

"I wish I chose someone else, that's for sure!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you asked, face and voice devoid of the previous anger, that was still burning away below the surface, "To my recollection, you seemed to enjoy yourself. Quite a lot in fact! I distinctly remember you begging for it. Multiple times- That night, and the many other times we had sex too, in fact."

Something that sounded like a mix between a scoff and a chuckle came from Natasha.

"We were both stupid eighteen-year-olds." Natasha shook her head, looking you up and down. "I just wish it wasn't you."

"Like I wanted to fuck you!"

She was digging at you. And you knew it. But you just couldn't see to break away from this spiteful web she had suddenly ensnared you in.

But, lucky for you.

You knew exactly how she worked. And how you could make this go in your favour.

And hers.

Not that she would ever admit that.

"Anyway!" you began before she could vocalise her reply. As you slowly stalked towards her, "It's not like you could ever see what was right in front of your eyes!"

"What?" she scoffed. "Like you?"

A low slam echoed throughout the room, from where you harshly pushed Natasha, against the wall. With your hand wrapped around her throat, the other holding her hip, keeping her in place. As her hands held onto your forearm.

Her eyes were almost pitch black with the lust swimming inside of them.

Good to know she wanted this just as much as you did.

"Yes," you hissed, her hair flying with the intensity of how you spat out your breath, "Me."

"You're so fucking full of yourself!"

You chuckled for a second, licking your bottom lip, and smirking when Natasha's eyes followed the movement.

"That may be true. But, don't deny. It so fucking turns you on."

She wasn't given the chance to speak. Not with you harshly claiming her lips in a searing kiss, and your hand squeezing her throat.

Your other hand coming to rip her zipper down. Pulling away from the kiss, breathing as harshly as the other. Natasha's hands grabbing your clothes, trying to rid them from your body as fast and as roughly as possible.

But it was just so much easier for her to get naked, thank you, in that tight as all hell cat-suit.

One swift click and her belt clattered to the floor. Her suit now finally fully open.

God.

You missed the sight of her soft skin.

And you missed feeling it even more.

Sliding your hands over her collar bones, you dragged the suit down, until it hung around her upper thighs.

A sinister chuckle sounded, from what you saw.

No bra or panties, huh?" you squeezed her waist, making her breathe heavy, and let out a quiet moan. "It's almost as if you knew what was going to happen, baby girl."

Your eyes never left her, as you stood there, not too far away, panting slightly. Your clothes hanging off of your body. Just watching as a Natasha rose her hands above and next to her head, running them softly against the wall, trying to entice you.

And fuck was it working.

"God, look at you," you husked, "You're fucking dripping onto your suit. Be careful. You don't want to ruin it."

"Just hurry up and fuck me, would you?!"

Ah!

There was the fire showing you that Natasha was still angry. The lucky thing was. So were you.

"Keep talking to me like that, and I'll just have to drag it out until you're crying to come."

You were really starting to grow tired of this back and forth bickering match that you were both in.

Natasha laughed darkly. "You act like you can even do tha-" Her sentence was cut off by a high-pitched, shocked moan, as you pushed two of your fingers into her soaked pussy. Her hands flying down to your forearm, in hopes of keeping you from pulling away.

"I'm sorry. What was that?"

Her only reply to you was a stern glare. One you were sure could light you on fire if she had that power.

You growled low in your chest at that look.

"Fuck, you're so wet," you cooed sadistically, "Don't you just take my fingers, so fucking well? You love them deep inside of you, don't you? I can tell from the way you're trying to bounce on them."

"Then how about, you cut your bullshit, and let me do that then?"

You laughed.

"Not a chance. Do you know how pathetic you are? Pushing back on my fingers, like the wanton slut you are. You've been desperate for this, haven't you? Fucking craving me."

"You're my enemy, you know that?"

You could tell that she wasn't just saying that to remind you of that fact. She was also saying it to remind herself. And that, what you two were doing, wasn't what enemies are supposed to do.

You decided to fuck with her.

"Does everyone fuck their enemies like you do?" Natasha moaned as your fingers ploughed into her faster, and your free hand found its way to her neck. "Like, do you think Captain America is going around spreading his cheeks for the leader of HYDRA?"

"Fuck you," Natasha gasped out.

Chuckling, you curled your fingers perfectly, hitting that spongey spot within Natasha that could make her sob. Using that leverage within her core, you helped pull the moaning red-head into the middle of the living room. Guiding her to lay down upon the coffee table.

"Maybe I should tie you up..." you contemplated in a mutter. "Bet you'd look great with my belt wrapped around your wrists. Again."

Natasha whimpered at your words, arching her back, pushing her chest up closer to where you hovered above her.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

No reply.

"I asked you a question, baby girl," you said sternly.

"Yes! Yes!"

You hummed. "Well... it's such a shame that I'm gonna make you come like this first, isn't it?"

You didn't want a reply to that question. And so, you ensured that you wouldn't get one.

Natasha's moans came out at a fast pace. So fast that she could hardly catch her breath. Thanks to the brutal pace and force that your fingers were dealing out your thumb going just as fast against her pulsing clit. Before she came with a loud scream.

Natasha was catching her breath, you were peppering open-mouthed kisses all along her neck and chest.

"Well..." you started, "As you say, “you’re going to drag me to prison”. So, if that means that this is the last time I can have you like this." You paused, looking her up and down, with a devilish smirk upon your lips. "I might as well ruin you, while I can. Come on, sweetheart," you told her, dragging her to her feet, "We're far from done."

“I fucking hate you but, God, you’re the only person who can ever make me come like this.” Natasha smiled drowsily.

***

Natasha was peacefully asleep, surrounded by soft pillows and covers. While you re-dressed, ready to skip town before The Avengers arrived.

Yes. You had known this whole time.

After all.

You are a professional.

Softly, you stepped closer to Natasha, leaning over her, and, unknown to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

Pulling away, you whispered, "Until the next time, Natasha."

And with that, you left.

Leaving Natasha naked and happily fucked out, for The Avengers to find, not long after.

[managedmischiefs]

unauthorized//matthew gray gubler

based on mgg’s new unauthorized documentaries

genre: fluff 

warnings: none!

word count: 3.4k

one last apology for the delay on posting these. fuck migraines!! iykyk. anyways, here it is. im really close to 200 followers and when i get there, ill be doing a preview of my new spencer fic called “north” so be ready to see that v soon! enjoy and don’t forget to give me some feedback!🖤

Getting to visit Matthew while he’s filming is a rare, yet special, occurrence. I always try to make the best of it when I get the change to head up to Vancouver, whether it be for a quick weekend or a whole week. When the final season of the show started, I did what I could to get to Vancouver for as long as I possibly could. I’d grown close to the cast, not to mention my boyfriend of six years. I wanted to make the best of this final season and make as many memories as I could, even if I’m not a member of the cast. They always joke that I’m an honorary member.

When, one night, Matthew mentioned reviving the Unauthorized Documentaries for the final season of Criminal Minds, I thought he meant it as a joke. He mentioned it so nonchalantly that I’d almost laughed. I thought he’d be too busy to worry about filming something on his own. But on his first week filming, during one of our first nightly FaceTimes, he ran a whole slew of ideas by me and I knew he was serious. 

At least once a week, he would run an idea by me and would judge the quality by my quantity of laughter. I didn’t even need to comment or give my input, he’d just rattle off jokes and concepts and then either check them off or cross them out when I react. He did this every week up until this week, when he started filming. 

“Do I look good?” Matthew brings my attention up from my laptop as he tugs on the lapel of his dress jacket, then holds out his hands to reveal his outfit. He’s dressed for the scenes he’s filming today, a scene with

Aubrey, so I’m not entirely sure why he’s so worried about how he’s dressed, but I’m not composing about the open request to check him out. “I’m about to go start filming the documentary with Andy,” 

I drag my eyes up and down his body, my fingers stilling over the keys as I admire his figure. When I reach his eyes again, his eyebrows are raised because he can tell I’m doing more than just evaluating his outfit. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I nod, pushing my laptop aside and reaching my hands out for him. “You look very good, bunny,” 

Matthew chuckles as I successfully grab his hands and tug him closer to me. “No, no,” he doesn’t resist as I twist my fingers in his belt loops, “I gotta go work,”

“I know,” I pout, letting go of him and sitting back in the too-comfy armchair I’m in. I’d give anything to grab him again and drag him into this chair with me. “Go film, I’ll probably be here when you get back,”

“Probably?” He picks up his script and, like the diva he is, checks his hair in the mirror and heads towards his trailer door, peeking back at me. 

“I might follow you, I might stay here and keep doing the work I’ve been procrastinating,” I shrug and gesture back to my discarded laptop, flashing with a blank Google Doc, a doc that has been blank for weeks on end. Being a writer is hard and frustrating and not easy, by any means. What made me think getting a degree in writing would be a good idea? Shaking off my frustrations, I smile cutely at my boyfriend, tilting my head to the side. “Give me a kiss before you leave?”

Matthew nods and stalks back over, leaning over to peck my lips. “Whatever you write,” he whispers, warm breath fanning across my face, “will be absolutely amazing and beautiful and I’ll be honored to read it,”

“Oh, you give me too much credit,” I scoff, watching Matthew roll his eyes.

“And you don’t give yourself enough,” he responds, and then hastily checks his watch. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, but this conversation is not over. I’ll see you later. Love you,”

“Love you too. Go be funny,” I wave goodbye at him as he goes bouncing out of the trailer, closing the door behind him, leaving me to my empty Google Doc. 

///

An hour later, my head is starting to hurt from staring down at a bright screen so I decide to take a break and get something to eat from catering. I haven’t heard anything from Matthew and I’m not sure what he’s up to, so I grab my phone and throw on one of his hoodies that’s a bit too big on me and head out of his trailer. 

As soon as I do, though, I run right into Matthew with a pile of shoes in his hands, making them tumble to the asphalt. He curses and keeps a straight face as he tries to pick them up again. Then he sees an opportunity in me and starts to shove shoes into my hands to help him, but they’re still tumbling out. I resist the urge to laugh because I know this would ruin his bit, and I just let him silently shove Daniel’s shoes into my arms. 

But then he runs off, leaving me with shoes in my arms. Without any direction or guidance from my boyfriend, I turn to Andy, who’s holding the camera, and shrug my shoulders, dropping Daniel’s shoes to the floor before walking off to my original destination- catering. Those two boys can clean up the mess they devised. I’m hungry. 

Matthew finds me just twenty minutes later, taking me by surprise when he wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind, pressing kisses to my cheek. “Thanks for helping me,”

He pulls out the chair beside me and scoots as close as he can to me, our thighs touching. “I mean, I wasn’t really expecting it but it was funny. I was internally laughing,” I let my head fall onto his shoulder, feeling his arm snake around my waist. I peer up at him, feeling my pupils dilating into hearts at the sight of my stunning boyfriend. I’ll never stop being floored by his eyes and his jawline and his dimples and his lips and his smile and how fucking beautiful he is. “I liked that idea from the beginning.”

“I know you did,” he quips, not-so-sneakily swiping a chip from my plate and popping it into his mouth. “Maybe you’ll appear in another episode. Who knows?”

I don’t see Matthew until the end of the day because he’s busy doing his job, as he should be. I spend my day writing in his trailer and filling up my previously empty Google Doc. When the cast has a long break, Matthew comes in to film a scene that I recognize as the ending to the second episode. He’s sitting at his open trailer door, supposedly watching videos of Daniel modeling. He’d only waved at me when he came in, not wanting to bother my work. I wish he would distract me more. Maybe I’d take action on my fantasy of melting into this armchair with him. 

His exaggerated and focused facial expression is enough to make me suppress a giggle, but then I spot a baby girl hat from Shemar on the counter and a light bulb starts floating over my head. 

“Psst,” I hiss, and Matthew looks up at me, his eyebrows raised. I hold up the hat to him, and his eyes light up with a childlike excitement. He holds up his hands and I toss the hat to him, and as soon as he puts it on, I let out the laugh I’ve been holding in. “Perfect, you look perfect, baby,” Matthew winks at me and then gives a thumbs up to Andy, putting on his exaggerated face yet again and staring down at his phone. I tuck my face in my laptop so I don’t laugh again, typing diligently. 

The next day is when I’m, yet again, roped into Matthew’s documentary. I don’t mind though. His ideas are hilarious and they never fail to make me laugh. 

I sit in Matthew’s trailer for an hour without him, staring at a blinking cursor. I don’t write a single word and I know that sitting in the same spot won’t make inspiration suddenly strike. I decide to change my scene up and bring my laptop to catering. I grab a snack and take a seat at an empty table, crossing my legs under me, beginning to mull over combinations of words and debate definitions of words. It’d been relatively quiet in catering for a while, but it all comes to an end when Matthew comes marching up to me.

“Hi, babe,” he says sweetly, a bit too sweetly, pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat. Like yesterday, I give him a confused look, and when he gives me the same adorable smile that he always does, my heart practically melts. The ways this man makes me fall so easily. I’ll never understand.

“Hi, there,” I respond, and then glance up at Andy holding the camera. “Can I help you?” 

“Could you possibly google something for me?” Matthew says and directs his attention to my laptop. The way he’s not giving me any type of attention or physical affection let’s me know that he really is filming his documentary again, so I play into it again. What do I have to lose? I’m not writing anyway.

“Yeah, sure,” I switch to Chrome and pull up Google. “What is it?”

“Could you search Daniel Henry?” Matthew keeps a straight face and it’s moments like this that remind me how great of an actor he is. Who can keep a straight face while regurgitating an incorrect name?

I turn my head to him, biting my lip to hold back my laugh. “Henry?” 

Matthew nods. “Yeah, I know, it sounds like a girl's name. I thought it was a girls name at first. Daniel,” He repeats it as if that clarifies anything at all. I just narrow my eyes at him again, and when I don’t search the obviously incorrect name that he’s giving me, he sits back in his chair, finally looking at me again with his eyes narrowed. “Do you-“ he lets out a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, “do you think there’s any chance he could be taller than me?”

“Okay, we can stop there,” Andy cuts us off, dropping the camera from focus.

“I think you missed your calling in life, love,” Matthew chuckles, pulling me into his arms, attacking my face with kisses. “I’m sorry to spring that on you, but-“

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t really getting anywhere anyway. If you need help with anything else, you know I’m around for the rest of the week.”

Surely, he cashed in on that offer. It was accidental. It was my fault, really. I was just trying to get back to Matthew’s trailer the next day after having lunch with Kirsten and Daniel, to which Matthew jokingly called me a traitor. I heard Matthew’s loud voice from all the way down the hallway and I should have turned and left, but I didn’t. 

So, iced coffee in hand, I stroll down the hallway and when I make it to the clearing, I stop in my tracks. Now, you’d think that after being with this man for five years and living with him, nothing would surprise me anymore. But he still has his moments, and this is definitely one of them. He has these wooden boxes and he’s got a roll of packing tape, and he’s taping the boxes to his feet. Maybe this shouldn’t surprise me, because he’s told me about this idea of his, but seeing him actually doing it with my own eyes is a whole different thing. 

It only takes him a moment to notice my presence, and when he does, he waves me over. “Babe, babe, hey babe, babe, babe,” he says quickly, waving his hand quickly, holding the wooden box against his foot. “Come help me,”

Keeping up the same attitude I’ve had in the past, I let out a dramatic sigh and drag myself over to him, sitting down on the floor and putting my coffee on the floor. But the moment I do, Matthew snatches it up and starts drinking it as I grab the dangling packing tape. Gosh, if he actually acted like this, I’d have broken up with him forever ago. 

I wrap the tape around his foot and the box and then around his ankle, making sure to not make it too tight so that I hurt him. He’s still sipping my coffee and staring into the camera like some cocky asshole when I move onto the other foot, and then I eventually run out of tape.

I sit back on my heels and look up at him. “I’m out,” Wow, this position we’re in right now? If Matthew didn’t have wooden boxes strapped to his feet and we weren’t in the middle of the Criminal Minds offices, I’d probably be reaching for his belt. But I can’t let my mind go there or else we’ll be hooking up in a bathroom or his trailer, and that never ends well for anyone.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and I watch in amusement for way too long as he struggles to get up to his feet. I don’t even help him, I just sit back and giggle. “Here, you can have this back,” he holds my coffee out to me, and just as soon as I reach for it, he pulls it back. “Wait,” he takes a long sip, “okay here.” I finally grab my coffee again and then move to lean against the wall, watching him struggle to take the first few steps with boxes taped to his feet. 

He hobbles down the hallway, all the way to BJ and proceeds to ask her to paint the boxes like shoes. And once he gets the shot he wants of this scene, Andy wanders off and he comes wobbling back to me with a cute, dumb smile on his face. “Will you help me get these off?”

I nod, sitting down on the floor again to pull off the tape around his feet. “Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t trip and fall on your face,”

“Me too,” he laughs, sighing with relief when I take the first box off and set it aside. “But hey, this is my last break and then I’m gonna be working late today. I don’t know if it’s worth it to stick around set. I’m not gonna be able to come see you or anything,”

“Maybe I’ll go back to your house. I can make some dinner instead of ordering out,” I pull off the last bit of tape and then swiftly reach up to press it against Matthew’s cheek, watching it hang there limply. 

He gives me a deadpan look as I devolve into giggles, falling over his lap and holding onto his misplaced elbow pads to hold me up. “Ha ha, very funny. I’m laughing so much. That was so funny,” His voice is void of any humor as he holds my shaking body from hitting the carpeted floor. 

“I know, I’m just so funny,” I quip, pulling myself together enough to crane my neck and kiss his cheek. “But I am probably gonna go back to your house. Sounds like a good idea,” 

“Okay, just let me know when you get there,” Matthew pats my thigh and signals me to get up, and once we’re on our feet again, he moves the wooden boxes aside. “I might not respond but-“

“Text you so you know I’m safe. I’ve got it,” I finish for him, fixing the lapel of his jacket. I push my pointer finger against the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it up in the insanely adorable way he does. The sight brings a smile to my face and it makes my heart beat faster. “I’ll see you later, okay? Go be brilliant.”

///

The sound of the front door opening lifts my head, taking my attention away from the glass of wine in my hand and the laptop in front of me, yet again. I glance at the timer on the oven and then jump to my feet, padding towards the foyer.

Matthew is dropping his backpack by the door when I get to him, and pauses halfway through reaching for his jacket. “Hi, love bug,” he murmurs, giving me a weak smile.

I grab Matthew’s jacket for him and slide it off his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” When I turn to hang the teddy bear jacket on the coat rack, I feel his hands on my waist, drawing me closer to him. He successfully pulls me against his chest, lips leaving a trail against my shoulder. “Long day, huh?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice wavering as he tucks his face into my neck, “long, and repetitive, and tiring, and I’m very hungry and I smell food,” 

I turn myself around in Matthew’s arms and face him, placing my hands on his cheeks. “I got pizza dough on my way home and I made homemade pizza. It’s in the oven and it’ll be done in about ten minutes. And I poured you a glass of wine too,”

Matthew’s eyes flutter closed and he presses his forehead against mine. “You’re an angel. You’re a goddamn angel, sent from heaven to bless me with your presence,”

“Oh, stop,” I laugh, patting his cheek gently. “Let’s just get wine drunk and eat pizza and watch movies all night. You don’t have work tomorrow and I’m tired of looking at my damn laptop,”

“You make us sound like two teenage girls,” Matthew unwinds from my embrace and wanders into the kitchen, swiping the full glass of wine from the counter. He takes a sip and then pecks my lips again, and I revel in the sweetness of his lips. 

Matthew sits at the counter, right in front of my laptop, taking another long gulp of his wine. I check on the pizza, just to make sure it’s not burnt, but when Matthew is silent for too long, I look back to make sure he’s okay. Sometimes when he has a hard or long day at work, he tends to shut down and not open up to me, and I don’t want that to happen. But when I turn to check up on him, I find him leaning into my laptop, his eyes darting across the screen. 

I gasp, stepping forward and slamming my laptop shut, ripping it away. “Hey! You know I don’t like it when you read my work before it’s edited and finished,” 

Matthew pouts, hiding his face behind his wine. “Sorry, I just- well, you’ve been talking about it so much and it was right here and I wanted to see how it was going,” I go into the other room and put my laptop into my bag, out of sight and out of mind. When I return to the kitchen, Matthew is pulling the pizza out of the oven just as the timer goes off. “If it means anything, of what I did read, it was really good. I only got through the first two paragraphs, but I really loved it.”

“Well, thanks,” I mumble, going onto my toes to kiss his cheek before grabbing the pizza cutter. “I’m not mad, I just-“

“I get it. You don’t let me read your writing until it’s done and I don’t let you see anything I’ve filmed until it’s done,” 

“Oh, so, I can’t see any of the documentary until it’s done?” 

“Maybe I’ll make an exception for that,” he quips, grabbing the pizza cutter from me and digging it into the hot pizza crust. “I don’t trust you with this thing anymore. Not after you ended up in the hospital last year with Sandy,” he turns to me with a pointed look.

“It was an accident and you know it!”

“Oh, really?” He guffaws, tossing the pizza cutter aside and reaching for my waist. But I dodge him, taking a step back. He accepts this as his challenge, reaching for me again, and when I dodge him one more time with a confident smirk, a playful fire ignites behind his eyes. “Fuck the pizza. I’m coming for you.”

[shesclearlya3]

Summer of ‘84

Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,426

Warnings: smut, language, sex in a public place, au!, all characters are 18+, i’m sorry if this is bad lmao

**using my current tag-list so feel free to ignore**

It was June of 1984 when you and your close friends returned to your jobs at the local drive-in theatre the last Summer before you started college.

It was your second year working here, and you were sad that it would be the last. It was an easy job. You'd work nights only five days a week. It was nice being able to make your own money and have fun with your friends while doing it. 

You were working the concession stand tonight with Xavier Plympton. You had been friends with him the longest out of the bunch. He was one of the best co-workers you could ever ask for. Despite his constant complaining about dealing with customers, he was always armed with perfect comebacks when you were stuck dealing with a Karen. Plus, he did work hard, which was a relief. Some of the other teenagers you worked with were only there for the paycheck, clearly. 

You were particularly excited because you were able to see the screen playing Gremlins and Ghostbusters. You rarely got to enjoy the movies. You were either working the ticket booth or continuously walking around, making sure nobody tried to sneak under the rotting wooden gates surrounding the lot. 

It was just after 9:30 when Gremlins started, and you and Xavier had just finished up the line.

"Let's hope the crowd stays away so we can clean up." he sighed, stretching his arms above his head. The ugly yellow shirts you had to wear rode up a little, and you caught yourself staring before a pair of hands covered your eyes.

"Gah!" you said, and you heard the loud laugh of Montana Duke behind you. 

"Sheesh, you're such a scaredy-cat!"

"I was distracted!" you said, your cheeks burning as you started to wipe down the counter, which was covered in popcorn kernels. "Shouldn't you be with Brooke right now?"

Montana slid over the countertops, going to the pop machine where she started filling up two cups. "We're parched, it's just now starting to cool down a bit. Larry is making us patrol for the next forty-five minutes before the others take over."

You nodded, scrubbing a particularly stubborn spot of butter that was probably from the night before. 

Xavier had laughed at what Montana said, and you immediately knew why. They had been caught in quite the compromising position the first night the theatre was opened this season. You were surprised they hadn't been fired, and Brooke had given two shifts away after the fact to avoid being questioned about it. 

"He's a fucking pervert anyway," Montana said, putting lids on both cups. "I gotta go. Be good!" she called sweetly before she bounced out of the rickety building. 

"I wish these fucking fans would work!" Xavier grumbled, fumbling with the switch of the nearest overhead fan. It made a creaking noise, the metal blades moving an inch before it stopped. 

"They're ancient," you laughed, finally getting the spot cleaned. "Candace told me they've been here since this place opened."

"These are like forty years old then, how fucking convenient," he grumbled, before giving up. "You'd think they could afford to replace them."

"Watch your language," you scolded. "We don't need another complaint."

Xavier smirked at you, starting to restock the popcorn buckets. "y/n, you should really stop being so uptight, babe." he teased you.

"I am not uptight!" you gasped, your mouth falling open as you dropped the rag into the sanitizer bucket. 

"Exactly what someone uptight would say!" he retorted, laughing at you, his hands methodically stacking the buckets handful by handful. 

"You won't think it's amusing when you're fired, you ass!" you said, causing Xavier to throw his head back and laugh rambunctiously. 

"That's the least of my worries, babe," he grinned at you, and you felt your heart swell. "What would you do without me?" he said.

"I'd probably actually get some work done..." you mumbled, starting to refill the popcorn machine with fresh kernels. "But I'd have to deal with the bitchy Karens all on my own."

"Watch your language!" Xavier mocked you, balling up the plastic and tossing it in the nearest trash-can. "Hey y/n- oh, someone is coming."

You told Xavier you would take care of the customer as he started restocking the cups, watching as you showed the young boy all of the ice creams you had. He was cute, probably no older than eleven with thick-framed glasses and a toothy smile. 

"Thank you, Miss," he said, before hurrying out.

"I think he liked you," Xavier said as you closed the register. "That's cute."

You rolled your eyes, seeing Larry sitting in the projection room, already asleep. "Shut up, he's young."

The next half-an-hour you only helped two other customers. Many people came to use the bathrooms, but other than that, you were alone with Xavier. You had cleaned up everything there was to clean, and you decided to dig out the book you brought to pass the time. 

Xavier watched the screen through the large window next to the entrance, the portable stereo tuned into the theatre's station. He was very amused by Gizmo, even gushing at the little creature.

"That's cute," you mumbled to yourself, chewing on your lip to keep from giggling.

"I heard that," he said crossly, his eyes on you now.

"I didn't say anything," you shrugged, bookmarking your page. "I'm hungry, I want a pretzel."

"Lucky for you, I popped one in for you," Xavier said, gesturing towards the pretzel heater right next to him. "It should be done now."

"Thank you, Xavier!" you said happily, coming over and taking it out. Xavier watched you, and he reached next to him for a bucket of popcorn he had gotten for himself. He put a handful in his mouth as you started pouring nacho cheese into a plastic container. 

"Hey, y/n?" he asked again, looking at you.

"Yes?" you asked, watching the hot cheese, feeling your stomach growl with hunger.

"Do you remember my friend Chet? He graduated last year?"

You nodded, moving to sit next to him on the counter. "The cute dark-haired kid who is really athletic?" 

"That's him," Xavier said, stuffing more popcorn into his mouth. "I ran into him the other day, and I told him I was working here again. He said he worked here for a season before we met."

You encouraged him to keep going, wondering where this was going. You knew Chet Clancy, mainly because he was a popular jock who dated multiple girls throughout the years. You have only spoken a few words with him in your entire life, but he was sweet enough. 

"Uhm..." he said, looking a little nervous now. You thought it was odd, he rarely became this way around you. "He asked about you."

You perked up, tearing your pretzel in half as you watched him see if he were joking. He wasn't, looking you dead in the eyes, and you could see he was honest.

"He asked about me?" you asked, shocked.

"Yeah, he kind of... Hinted, that he was interested in you."

You found yourself smiling. "Really? I never really talked to him..."

Xavier nodded, "I know. I was a little shocked myself."

You ate some of your food, now thinking about dating Chet Clancy. You never would have imagined it, and not even because you rarely knew him. He just seemed so out of reach. You weren't the "normal" crowd he hung out with.

"Wow... That's insane," you said simply.

"Yeah... But I kind of choked up and said we were dating."

You spit out your tiny bite of food, covering your mouth as Xavier looked at you with wide eyes. "WE'RE NOT DATING!"

"Shh!" Xavier said, almost dropping his popcorn in an attempt to cover your mouth. "I know, y/n, I don't even know what happened," he growled, tossing the bucket aside. "I panicked."

"Why would you panic?" you asked, wrinkling your nose as you picked up your un-chewed food with a napkin and tossed it in the bin. "We're friends."

"I got... Jealous," he replied lamely.

You glanced up at him, and he was looking at his lap, his face wrinkled in embarrassment. You were thrown for a loop. As long as you had known each other, not once did there seem to be any romantic inclination. Of course, you've crushed on him a bit, I mean, who wouldn't? He was funny, charismatic, gorgeous, and saw something in you that he wanted to be your friend.

"Why?" was all you managed, your voice hushed and confused.

"It made me realize that I like you. And we're not little kids anymore. If I didn't tell you how I felt, then I might lose the opportunity to tell you." he said, before laughing dryly, "I guess it took another guy being interested in you for me to wise up and stop being an idiot."

You started to grin at him, and Xavier looked relieved. "Does this mean you're not mad?" 

"I'm not mad," you assured him, putting your food to the side. "I'm just surprised. I never would have thought..."

"Babe, I'm clearly head over heels for you, I tease you relentlessly because I like to make you laugh. And I like when you get snappy with me." he grinned at you, his eyes sparkling as you heard a group of teenagers pile into the bathroom, giggling. 

You scooted closer to Xavier, and you could smell his body wash. "I just thought it meant you liked to pick on me." 

He threw his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "I do, with love."

After that, you had spent the rest of Gremlins talking, sitting close to each other, and giggling madly. You had to go back to work once intermission started, and you felt your heart-beating wildly every time you heard Xavier's voice. You listened as girls giggled and whispered about him, cashing them out with a broad smile. At one point, you heard him go, "Sorry, ladies, I'm taken."

When the last movie started, you turned off all the machines, cleaning everything down quickly. The one thing you liked about this theatre is that intermission was the final call. You'd have time to clean up and be on your way home before the second movie was even half-way through.

You had set aside some food for the others while you finished up. Brooke Thompson and Montana came in, taking some leftovers and asking if you wanted to watch Ghostbusters. 

"We'll be out in a bit," Xavier said, gesturing to the broom he was holding. "Whoever worked in here last time did a shit job."

"Cool, we'll be in my car!" Montana said, before scurrying out with Brooke, their arms full of popcorn, soda, and nachos.

"I'm so ready to skip this joint!" Xavier said after he finished swimming, and you switched off the first set of lights. 

"Me too. Are there any nachos left?" you asked, locking up the safe.

"Just enough for the both of us," he replied. You stood up, walking over to him, and you ended up tripping over your shoes, colliding with his chest.

"Oh shit, you alright?" he asked, grabbing you tightly.

"I'm fine!" you laughed, looking up at his figure towering over you. "I think I tripped over the crack in the floor..."

Xavier stared down at you, and you felt his hand come up and brush against your cheek. You felt your skin tingle underneath his touch. "We're gonna get caught."

"I don't care," Xavier whispered before he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.

You held your breath as you melted into his touch. You've been in a few relationships before in your time, but nothing ever compared to what you were currently feeling. Xavier held your head in his hands, your kiss becoming more heated until you felt him pulling you towards the back, where the storage was kept.

"We're gonna get-."

Xavier cupped a hand over your mouth, pulling you into the closet before shutting the door. There was a single light hanging above you that he flicked on, and you could barely see the movie screen from the rectangular window sitting high above your heads.

"Trust me, Babe. If you're quiet, we'll be fine."

You nodded, holding onto him as Xavier pushed an empty box onto the floor, lifting you up and setting you on top of a sturdy table. There wasn't a whole lot of room. He reached over to lock the door.

"What are you doing?" You asked, kicking off your shoes. You were wearing denim shorts, and the air around you was much colder than you expected. You got goosebumps as Xavier played with the button of your shorts.

"Could I take these off?" He asked.

You nodded shyly, biting your lip as he slowly unbuttoned them, the only sound being your shared breathing and the zipper being lowered down.

"Have you done this before, y/n?" He asked, his hands gripping the waistband of your shorts.

"I've done a few things..." you said, your cheeks becoming hot.

"I'll be gentle, I promise." He said, before starting to tug your undergarments off. You lifted your hips, and he quickly let them drop to the floor. Outside you could hear the audience collectively laughing at something.

Xavier shed out of his shirt, throwing it on the nearest shelf. He wasn't overly muscular but was nicely toned. You've seen him shirtless many times over the years, but this time was different. He was beautiful.

"Are you enjoying the view?" He asked arrogantly, flashing you a smile as you instinctively crossed your legs. "Ah, spread them for me, babe." He kindly scolded.

"Of course, I am!" You respond, "You're hot, and you know it, babe."

"Cute," he winked at you, before looping his arms underneath your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you closer, spreading your legs out for him. You could feel how wet you were against the crisp air, and you wanted to die from embarrassment at how easily you became aroused.

"Remember to stay quiet." He said, grinning at you mischievously. "You don't want to get caught."

You squeezed your eyes shut at his arrogance. "Fuck you."

The words had barely left your mouth when you felt his tongue lick a quick swipe along your thigh. You shuddered at the feeling; your stomach trembling as Xavier purposely teased you. You weren't lying when you said you have a little experience. But, you never received oral before. You gave it once, and that was it.

You let out a quiet gasp as he finally licked along your folds, your hands itching to grab onto his hair already. You refrained, lifting them above your head to keep from messing anything up.

Xavier was skilled as he ran his tongue gingerly along your folds, before pushing his tongue inside. The feeling caused hundreds of butterflies to fly over your stomach. Your thighs clenched as he adjusted his hold on you, kneeling down to push his head deeper between your legs.

"Oh, fuck!" You said a little too loudly before you felt his hand covering your mouth. You mewled and sighed against him as Xavier slowly ate you out. You always heard from Montana that it was one of the best feelings in the world, but you never imagined it being quite like this.

Nor did you ever expect to be here with Xavier, but life was crazy.

You grabbed onto Xavier's arm as he started sucking on your clit. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he teased your entrance with a single finger, barely testing the waters.

You were lost in the feeling when suddenly the door handle rattled. You jumped out of your skin, nearly trapping Xavier between your thighs when you heard the security guards' high-pitched voice. "Fuck! Larry must have locked it before he left."

Xavier freed himself, prepared to cover you with his body when the voice of Mason, a co-worker say, "It's fine, we'll just have to look in there tomorrow. I can't find the key anywhere."

You heard their footsteps fade away, and you and Xavier both glanced at each other, before giggling madly.

"I'm sorry, y/n," he whispered in your ear.

"It's not your fault?" You said, running your hand along his face now.

"I'm gonna go back down here now," he said, kissing your hand before slinking down your body again. You let him go, now covering your own mouth as he grabbed your legs, his mouth instantly closing over your clit.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his fingers once again teasing your entrance. "I'm gonna make you cum in my mouth."

Xavier continued until you were shaking so severely that he had to hold you down by the hips, almost forcing you to keep your legs open. Xavier pumped a finger inside of you, his thumb meeting your clit while his tongue teased it simultaneously.

You came in minutes, sighing loudly against your hand as Xavier cleaned you up, before placing kisses along your thighs. You breathed heavily as you sat up, quickly taking off your shirt, revealing your bra.

"Fuck, y/n," he said, allowing you to unbutton his pants, your hands fumbling to get them off as soon as possible. "You're hot."

"And horny, so please take off your pants." You begged, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. When you were completely naked, you stared at Xavier's dick, wondering how in the hell it was supposed to fit.

"Don't look so scared, babe," Xavier said, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "Have you?..."

You shook your head, "I never got this far."

Xavier nuzzled your neck, and you wrapped your legs around him as he kissed along your skin, trailing along your collarbone before placing kisses on your jawline.

"Do you have a condom?" You asked, suddenly having an epiphany on the importance of safe sex.

"There's a box behind the pack of lightbulbs," he said, and you pulled back to look at him. "Chet told me about them, I swear."

Xavier wasted no time grabbing a condom from said hiding place, and you watched as he slid it on with ease. You wrapped a leg around his hips again, and he hugged you while he pressed kisses to your face.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you, baby girl," he whispered, and you nodded, holding him tightly.

You focused on the sound of more laughter from the audience, keeping your breathing under control as Xavier slowly pushed inside of you. He felt you tense up, holding you tightly and not moving until you encouraged him to do so.

After a few moments, you told him to move, figuring it would worsen before it got better. Xavier nodded, still holding you tight as he rocked his hips into yours, both of you panting as you grew more comfortable having his dick inside of you.

When you felt a lot better, you laid flat against the table, keeping a leg wrapped around him while he increased his pace. Xavier's face was screwed up as the pleasure coursed throughout your body. His large hand reached forward, grabbing at your breasts while you attempted to keep your moans at bay.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," you said, trying to keep your leg from slipping off his hip.

"You're so fucking hot, babe," he said, leaning over you until you were almost nose to nose. "I want you to come for me, y/n,"

You shook your head, not wanting this to stop.

Xavier hid his laugh, increasing his face slightly. "You're going to fucking come for me, y/n."

"Make. Me." You said through clenched teeth.

Xavier laughed now, adjusting your free leg enough to easily slip his hand over your clit. He rubbed you out with his thumb, focusing on you, wanting you to come before he did.

"That's it," Xavier cooed as you finally clinched around him, crying out behind your hand as he slowed down, watching as you coated his length. "Fuck..."

You dug your heel into his skin as Xavier came, his hips stilling as he kneeled over you, kissing you deeply. You were breathless as he kissed you fiercely, hardly allowing you a break until he climbed off you.

You sat up, feeling light. "That was amazing."

Xavier grinned at you, pulling on his boxers after taking off the condom. "It's all you babe, not me."

taglist: 

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[janiedean]

anniversary prompt! MCU, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark UNDERSTANDABLY also have class conflict (does not have to be serious but like. So many missed opportunity here)

HELLO ANON HERE WE LANDED LEMME SEE WHAT I CAN DO WITH THIS

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--

1.

"Rogers, you know you don't have to look that constipated?"

Steve, who knows he must look exactly like that, tries to not roll his eyes as he also tries to not tear away his tie.

His silken shirt feels wrong on him. The tailored trousers and shirt... even worse. He doesn't want to know how much that tie he loathes cost, and he turns to look at Tony who is wearing a similar outfit except most likely even classier and who looks like he was born with it.

He certainly doesn't look constipated.

Of course he doesn't.

Steve also knows that... well. He's hardly the kind of rich person who'd look down on him or his mother back in the day. He knows he gives away in charity as much money as he can fiscally spare every other year. He knows he certainly doesn't hoard it. It's just.

It's just.

"Can't I just hate high society galas where I have to be present for PR but where I don't want to be?" He mutters, taking a sip from his glass. It's crystal. That champagne must be good. The only champagne he ever drank before waking back up in this damned century was in France during the war and it was cheap, and when he was in New York... yeah, champagne. They could barely even look at people sipping it in the restaurant of the Ritz when they passed in front of it back in the day.

"You can," Tony shrugs, "but it won't get you out of having to attend them. And fine, they're boring, but -"

"Whatever," Steve sighs, "I don't think you get it."

"Isn't that what you just said?"

"No," Steve shakes his head. He grimaces as he drinks more of that champagne. Fuck, he misses Bucky, but he couldn't join Sam in Europe this time, and he hates that he sent him off on his own, but - eh. He had to attend this. Fuck. "No, I didn't. I just, I don't belong here. I never did. This is just wrong."

"This?"

"I don't mean the party. I mean - the clothes, the crystal, the goddamned caviar -"

"That's... you know, standard high society gala stuff?"

"Yeah, well." He finishes the drink. "In my day, if I even tried to walk in front of the Ritz while this kinda shit was happening, they'd literally come outside to say whoever was inside shouldn't even see me out of the window. Sorry if this doesn't change anything."

He slams the glass back on the next table. He doesn't know how he doesn't break it. "I need a moment. Please just make something up if they ask where I am," he says, and then stalks out of the room and finds a balcony.

I wish Bucky was here, he thinks, he'd fake this way better than I could.

Bucky isn't here, though.

He isn't.

He wonders, how many kids could pay a decent private school for a year with the money that just one of those suits people wear inside that place cost them? They probably won't even wear them twice.

He feels like throwing up.

He thinks he'll wait a bit before going back in.

2.

"Humor me a second," Tony corners him the next day - they had an Avengers meeting and everyone noticed Steve was still off, of course, and obviously Tony also did, and for a moment Steve wishes Bruce had come after him because maybe he would at least get it, but it didn't happen, and -

"Sure," Steve sighs, "I think I know what it is about."

"I mean, you did run off the other day and don't worry, I handled it, but what was that about?"

Yeah. Yeah, he doesn't get it.

"I told you," Steve sighs, "I don't - that's not my place."

"Nonsense," Tony shakes his head, "you were invited -"

"No," Steve interrupts, "that's not it. I've been telling you, and I just - did you miss the part where I told you that in the thirties if my shoes broke I'd fix it putting old newspapers inside because I couldn't spare the money for a new pair? Even second hand?"

At that, Tony stops for a moment, good, at least maybe he's realizing the issue.

"No," he finally says, "but you're not in the thirties and we pay you quite handsomely if I can say so."

"That - doesn't really change that I've been here... a few years and I don't exactly splurge now, do I?" Steve shakes his head. "I wasn't born like... like you, and I'm not saying it as... anything but a fact. You don't forget not having enough money to pay all the bills and having to choose between electricity and heat, Tony." He wonders if he should say it or if it's not worth it, but - but Tony's a friend, more or less, and Howard - Howard sort of got it, back in the day, not as much as Steve would have liked, but sort of, so - so. He can try. "And when I took that trip after the Chitauri, I did go around the country. I wasn't joking."

"Okay, and?"

"And, I've gone through places where people needed three jobs to barely pay rent and all the bills and I could understand where they came from because I had been there, too many of them could barely read and I thought it would have been better since my days but it didn't seem like it, I've ran into people sleeping in their cars because they could afford either that or rent and they chose to keep the car and I used to be like them once, and now I should mingle with people whose clothes cost like... an entire year of their income? I feel guilty. I feel like I shouldn't be there. And I feel like all the money that went into that party could have been better used. And I don't - I mean, it doesn't mean that I think you are bad for having the money because you're nowhere near that kind of stuck-up, but that's your floor. Not mine. Is it clearer?"

Tony just stares at him, biting down on his lip, then -

"Clearer, Capsicle, clearer. Go cool off. I got it."

He does sound like at least he's not going to ask any further.

"Good," Steve says, and heads out. He thinks he needs to punch some more sacks of sand through the damned wall. Maybe he will work that stupid party out of his system.

3.

"You know," Tony tells him a week later, cornering him after the latest team debrief, "you never asked what happened at the end of that gala."

"No," Steve says, "because I said I wasn't going to go and then I was kind of forced to and I refused to look at the schedule and I figured I'd make something up. Why?"

"'Course you figured you would," Tony says, "and you aren't even that good at it, Rogers. Anyway, you had to be there because they were offering you some kind of award for your services to the nation. Which also included money."

"Which I don't need."

"I know," Tony sighs, "here."

He hands Steve what looks like a copy of a check.

"I even went through the hassle of printing it because I know you like your paper trail."

Well, yeah. It's a copy of a check. For -

"How much fucking money was that?"

"A lot of it," Tony shrugs, "exactly the amount on that check. Which I said I would cash for you because you suddenly were called on Avengers business, and I did cash it because if we waited for you it'd just stay there for the next ten years, but then I figured you'd rather have that money going there, so."

Well.

"You donated the whole of it to the Nebraska Farmers Union?" He asks, blinking at reading the beneficiary.

Tony shrugs. "Well, they were around when you were around and they seemed like they could benefit from it, and like you'd have approved, so. I mean, I doubt I'll ever get it but I can see why you wouldn't want to mingle. In between us, those galas are a bore."

He laughs, and for the first time since he went there, he doesn't feel like punching another ten sand bags before getting his shit under control.

"Good to know that it's just not me not being adjusted thinking that," he wheezes, and then, "thanks, by the way. I would have given that money to them or some organization like it, so."

"Excellent," Tony replies, "next time you want to skip on that just warn me which other one you'd want to give your prize money to."

"Maybe I will," Steve replies, finding that he means it, and decides that maybe he's not going to punch any sand bag today and he can just go back to the debriefing room and hang out with the others - honestly, he's been punching his way out of this since that damned party, he might as well not for once.

"What," Tony says, "you're finally not looking constipated? Hallelujah, Rogers, finally, we were all wondering if you'd ever come back to the world."

"Shut up and go to all those galas in my place from now on and I won't anymore."

"Guess I can just drag Bruce there and tell him to sass those people for you."

"Deal," Steve says, "but you are getting that organizations list."

"You do have my email," Tony winks at him, and -

Yeah. He does, doesn't he?

He shakes his head and follows him back where the others are.

He absolutely is finding out each single organization like that that survived from his days after. He so is. After all, if he somehow has money now, he can use it the way he wishes he could back in the day, right?

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

A Flower, A Note, A Secret

Summary: Bucky Barnes gets to school and finds a flower and a note taped to his locker. He figures it’s someone setting him up. Then again...it might be from someone wonderful.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: high school, mentions of recreational drug use, fluff

written for @captain-rogers-beard​‘s  Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge 

Prompt: The language of flowers, pajamas, a secret passageway

Bucky stops short right there in the middle of the hallway. Taped to his locker is a yellow flower. With it, an envelope--his name scrawled across it in messy handwriting. 

People are staring at him. Some giggling. Some impatiently. Some shocked. Probably because Bucky Barnes, their resident charity case and outcast has a flower and a note on his locker. It’s probably some sick joke. Just another asshole in this insufferable school trying to fuck with him.

With all those eyes on him, Bucky plucks the flower off, gives it a sniff, and then opens the envelope. Inside, is a folded up piece of paper. Written on it, is the name of the flower and what it means. 

Yellow Chrysanthemum = Secret admirer.  Meet me behind the locker room after 9th.

Not that many people know about that room. An old weight room, Bucky thinks. Shield Preparatory School’s own secret passageway. Bucky’s gone back there to get high when he just needs to get away from all these snobs.

When the two buddies he does have in school--Natasha and Clint--get wind of it, neither of them are willing to let him miss this opportunity. 

“You gotta go,” Clint urges. “Maybe someone’s gonna ask you to prom!”

Bucky scoffs. “Doubtful. I’m gay. Which fucking guy here is gonna ask me to the prom?”

“What about Sam Wilson?” Natasha suggests. “He’s a cool guy.”

Captain of the baseball team, student body president, and member of the LGBTQ Alliance Club. 

He is a cool guy. For all the complaining Bucky does about most of the student population, there are a few exceptions and he’s one of them. Bucky had quite the crush on him last year. There’s only one problem.

“He’s already going with Maria Hill,” Bucky says. “Besides, what would Sam Wilson want with a guy like me?”

Both of them punch him in the arm, and since they’re on either side of him, it means both arms get punched. 

“Ow!” he exclaims, even though that really didn’t hurt. “Totally unnecessary.”

“You’re going,” Clint says. “You’re not talking your way out of it.”

Flower in hand, Bucky sighs. He doesn’t really want to admit it, not out loud anyway, but there’s a part of him that really does want to go. He’s sort of dying to find out who’s behind this. But there’s an even bigger part that’s dreading it. Because it wouldn’t be the first time that someone’s fucked with him.

He’s been a target in this damn school since the first day he came to it. He’s a nobody. Just a kid from a public school who wrote an essay that was good enough to earn a scholarship. Which meant assholes like Brock Rumlow and Helmut Zemo, kids of very powerful alumni, decided to make him their personal victim. Whether that meant punching bag or verbal harassment, they’ve been on his case for the past three years. 

If this flower came from one of them or one of their friends, and they make a laughing stock out of him, Bucky’s not so sure he’ll get over it.

“What if...” His voice cracks. “What if it’s a joke?” Bucky keeps his eyes on their lunch table. “What if it’s one of--”

“If it’s one of those assholes,” Natasha says, “I’ll rip off their dicks and make them choke on it.” 

“If it’s big enough,” Clint adds.

The remark, while so totally absurd, makes Bucky laugh so hard he nearly falls out of his chair. Neither of them is actually capable of such a thing, but they truly mean they’ll kick some ass if someone is fucking with him. 

Which is the only reason he says, “Okay. I’ll go.”

By the time 9th period is over and Bucky’s on the way to the locker room, he’s starting to wish he just stayed home in his pajamas today. His heart is in his throat. Pounding. So hard he can hear his pulse thudding in his ears. 

Just in case, Natasha and Clint are waiting for him right by the door--his backup. His bodyguards, he likes to think of them as, even though he’s very capable of throwing a few good punches if need be. More than capable. Just because he’s in drama and writes for the literary magazine instead of making touchdowns or three-pointers doesn’t mean he’s out of shape.

Bucky sucks in a deep breath and goes into the room.

At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be anyone there and he’s sure he’s been had. Then someone stands.

“B-Bucky?”

Bucky nearly falls over when he sees who’s there. For a second, he actually thinks it is a joke because there’s no way that Steve “All American” Rogers, quarterback and captain of the football team and artist and going to Yale next year and homecoming king and probably soon-to-be prom king, left him a flower that means secret admirer. 

Not only is the idea of Steve being his secret admirer just crazy, there’s no way Bucky’s that lucky. He’s had a crush on Steve since he met him when he tutored him in history. 

Out of all the people he’s met that aren’t Natasha and Clint, Steve is his favorite. He’s most decidedly not an asshole. In fact, he’s the opposite. He’s kind and sweet and both shy and social at the same time. Everyone likes Steve and those who don’t are total assholes who Steve hates right back. 

“Steve?” he questions. “Did you--” He lifts the flower. Remembers that Peggy Carter’s locker is right next to his and this is probably meant for her. “Sorry I, uh, I thought this was for me.” Bucky hands it back to him. “I guess you want this back.”

“What?” Steve shakes his head. “No, I...” A blush fills his entire face. “It’s for you. From me. I’m...” He scratches the back of his head. Shifts from foot to foot. “I’m sorry. This looked a lot romantic in my head.”

“Wait, I’m...confused.”

“Well, when I pictured asking you to prom, I thought this would be super cute, having you come to the secret room and now I’m looking around and it looks creepy as fuck and, Jesus, Steve, you suck at this. I’m sorry. Sorry, just forget about it, I’m such an asshole.”

Bucky lets out laugh that echos through the room. “Steve Rogers, are you asking me to the prom?”

“I, uh...that was the idea.” Steve sighs. “I...would you want to go with me? I understand if you don’t, I can’t imagine why someone as awesome as you would want to go with me.” 

“What?!” Bucky shrieks. “I’ve had a crush on you since day one!” Face flushing, Bucky can’t believe he just said that out loud. 

“You...really?” Steve blinks a few times and then his jaw drops. “I’ve had a crush on you, too! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He laughs and drops a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “If you’re really asking me to the prom, my answer is yes!”

“Y-yes?” Steve's mouth tugs itself in this adorable smile. “You wanna go with me? Really? Like, not just as friends, as...maybe more? If you’d...maybe wanna go get some pizza beforehand? I mean, like, this weekend?”

“You mean, a date?”

“Uh...yeah.” Steve nibbles his lip and, seriously, how is it fair that everything this guy does is adorable?

“I’d love to, Steve.”

Steve, stepping closer, gently cups Bucky’s cheek in his big, athletic and artistic hand. He looks like he wants to kiss him. 

“I hope you know,” Steve murmurs, leaning in closer, “I’m gonna get you more flowers.”

And he seals that promise with a soft, tender kiss.

[eveningcatcher]

Main six + courtiers in Hell's Kitchen AU with MC as Gordon Ramsey

Hi, sorry for being absent for so long. Besides the school starting, there have been some things going on in my private life that didn't really motivate me to write. I can't post new chapters every week like usual, but I'll try to post as frequently as I can. Sorry for not doing any of the requests. I had this chapter as a wip for a while, so I decided to finish it. Hope you enjoy it!

-------

Previously on Hell’s Kitchen:

Chef MC tasted the contestants’ signature dishes and, needless to say, they were not pleased.

“How can you serve me this garbage!?!” MC shouted, “I wouldn’t feed a stray dog with this crap!”

Both teams had problems in the kitchen

“You moron, what are you doing?” Nadia asked, frowning like a madman, “Where is the chicken?”

And one team had a little throwback because of one of the cooks

“Volta, what in the world are you doing?” MC shouted, not believing their eyes, “That food is for the customers!”

But now all of that is set aside as the new day and new opportunities arise. Will the chefs be able to rise to the top and win the luxurious restaurant in Vesuvia, or will they crumble at the pressure?

“I want to go back home,” Portia sobbed as she hugged her knees, “I miss my grandma.”

  “Wake up sleepyhea-” one of the MC’s sous-chefs, Scout, stopped midsentence as she stared at Valerius’ bed.

He woke up as he rubbed his eyes, feeling like his head is a lot lighter. As soon as he put his head on the sheets he felt something strange. He lowered his head, only to be greeted by the sight of his braid cut off, right next to him.

“My deep apologies for the inconvenience,” Valdemar said as they put a pair of scissors down, walking out of the room to change, “I just can’t have some of your hair in the food we prepare, so I had to make some sacrifice,” they grinned from ear to ear as they stared at Valerius’ pale face, “Oh, don’t you worry, It’ll grow back before you know it.”

 ****

 “Good morning everyone!” MC said as they watched all of the chefs come into the room, “Oh, Valerius, nice hairstyle!” they chuckled as they stared at him who still hasn’t recovered from the trauma, “Who did your hairstyle? I must say I’m quite impressed.”

“Valdemar, they, I, I was sleeping and, and, that plebian-” he was interrupted midsentence by Valdemar.

“No need to thank me, for my dearest colleague it’s free of charge,” they smiled, enjoying Valerius’ reaction.

“Anyway,” MC said, as they walked up to one table, “Today I will be seeing how good your pallets are and,” their gaze flew over Valerius, Vulgora, Nadia, Lucio and Portia, “Judging by how many smokers are here, my expectations are low,” they turned their head to Julian, “Sit this round out.”

Julian nodded as he walked to the back.

“Valerius, Nadia, come here,” they took blindfolders and headphones, putting them on the two of them, “Can you hear me?” MC shouted at the two of them, “Good, now,” they took a plate of foods from Scout, “Let’s begin, shall we?” they raised one spoon, putting it into Nadia’s mouth, “Boiled potato.”

“Is this pepper?” Nadia asked after she swallowed the potato.

MC raised one of Nadia’s headphones, saying: “Boiled potato.”

They walked over to Valerius, who wasn’t lucky enough to guess either. Surprisingly enough, Nadia, as well as Valerius, both guessed all of the exotic foods right, with Nadia bringing 2 and Valerius bringing one point to their team.

Next, it was Vlastomil’s and Asra’s turn. Vlastomil guessed all of the vegetables and fruits, while Asra only recognized a date as well as ham, however, Vlastomil got a heart attack as soon as he realized he ate meat.

“But I’m vegan!” he shouted.

“Still, you’re not cooking for vegans!” MC explained, “You just have to know what you’re cooking, I don’t give a fuck what you eat.”

Overall Asra got 2 and Vlastomil got 3 points.

Now it was Valdemar’s and Lucio’s turn. MC hesitantly put the food in Valdemar’s mouth, trying their best to avoid those sharp teeth.

“Brocolli. Pear. Tangerine. Lamb’s brain,” Valdemar simply stated after they’ve tasted all of the food.

“Wow,” MC said, “Impressive.”

Lucio, on the other hand, wasn’t as good.

“Um, broccoli, this, this is an… apple. Oh, I know what this is, it’s orange! This, this tastes like bacon!”

“Not even close,” MC said as they took off his headphones, “Go back in your line. Portia, Vulgora, come here.”

Portia, just like Valdemar, guessed all of the food right, Vulgora half as much.

“Now it all comes down to this,” MC said as they put on headphones.

Volta guessed 2 right, but Muriel guessed all of them!

“The six of you have just barely won!” MC said, “Change your clothes, I’m taking all six of you somewhere special. As for the five of you,” MC gestured at the brooms, “I want this place crystal clear!”

“Yes, chef!”

  While the winners prepared themselves to finally go outside, the losing team went straight on to cleaning the hell’s kitchen.

“Wonder where we’ll go?” Portia said as she walked with Nadia outside.

“Honestly, any place is better than here,” she commented as she lit her cigarette, offering Portia one.

She happily took it and, once Nadia lit it for her, continued, “He told us to put on swimsuits, maybe a beach?”

“I sure hope it is!” Lucio said as he walked up to the two of them, to which Nadia only rolled her eyes.

 “I can’t believe I was put in the same team as my ex-husband!” Nadia frowned at the camera, clearly pissed.

****

  “Is everyone ready?” MC asked as they watched the other three walk out of the hell’s kitchen.

“Yes, chef!” the six of them said in unison.

“Very well then, let’s get going,” MC said as they gestured to a luxurious limousine.

****

“Finally!” Lucio puffed his chest as he stared at the camera, “A car worthy of me!”

****

 “Can you guess where we’re going?” MC asked the six of them.

“To the beach?” Portia and Nadia guessed.

“No, but you’re close,” MC said as they stared at others.

“A pool?” Muriel asked.

“Nadia and Portia were closer.”

“To the yacht?” Julian asked.

MC smiled and, with a small nod said: “You’ve guessed it!

****

“Oh my gosh, this will be just like my childhood!” Portia happily exclaimed, “The wind blowing through my hair, the smell of saltwater in the air…” she rambled on and on, “Ohh, I can’t wait!”

****

 “Can you imagine what the five of them are doing right now?” Mc asked as they sipped on champagne.

“Oh, I definitely wouldn’t want to be in their shoes,” Julian added as he finished his glass.

  “Alright, now that that’s out of the way,” Valdemar said as they put the brooms in their place, “We need to make a strategy on how to win.”

“We would have won, had someone not guessed only 2 foods right,” Valerius said, eyeing Volta not so discreetly.

“Who are you to talk?” Vulgora said, getting annoyed, “You only guessed one right! You did the worst out of all of us!” it seemed that it was enough to shut Valerius up, but Vulgora continued, “And you! How did you not recognize ham of all things?”

“Because I’m vegan!” Vlastomil shouted, clearly offended.

“This can’t do,” Valdemar said with a frown, “Let’s get one thing straight,” they started talking right after the four of them shut up, “We don’t like each other,” to that all of them nodded, “But the only way we can stay in this competition is to make sure that those six are the ones who always lose.”

“Makes sense,” Vulgora said.

“So you propose that we get rid of 6 of them first?” Valerius asked.

“Exactly, then we can deal with each other later,” Valdemar nodded and, after a short pause, added, “Oh, also, I have no wish to win this competition.”

“WHAT?” the other four asked, not believing what they heard.

“You see, I have absolutely no knowledge about cooking, at all, as a matter of fact, I’m a surgeon.”

“Why did you get here then?” Vlastomil asked, confused.

“Because I made a bet with my colleague, that ginger guy in the opposite team. If I were to get further in this competition than him, he’d have to buy me three rare specimens for my research, but if he were to win I’d have to get him 30 jars filled with leeches,” they finished their sentence, rolling their eyes.

“So, what you’re saying is that you wouldn’t mind if we were to vote you off as soon as that idiot is out?”

“I’d be more than grateful,” Valdemar said with a grin.

“Seems good enough!” Volta said as she nibbled on one of the cookies. “Wait,” she asked as she ate the whole cookie in one bite, “Why were you accepted in the Hell’s kitchen?”

“Same reason why ex-husband and wife were put in the same team,” they simply shrugged, “For the drama.”

“Oh, how much I wish they were to lose,” Valerius said in front of the camera, still thinking about his braid.

 “We’re opening hell’s kitchen!” MC said as everybody got to their places in the kitchen, “Don’t disappoint me again! Also, we’re one waiter short and since you are the losing team,” MC took a glance at five of them, “Valerius, you’ll be a replacement.”

Valerius only nodded as he left the kitchen.

“Vlastomil, you’ll be at the meat section,” Valdemar simply stated as they sharpened some of the knives.

“But I-” he wanted to protest, but Vulgora interrupted them.

“Stop complaining and go!”

 “Alright, let’s begin,” Asra said as they read the first order, “Let’s just put the same effort as yesterday.”

“This will be a breeze,” Asra grinned at the camera, “The opposite team is two cooks short! There is just no way we can lose,” as soon as Asra said that a smile disappeared on their face, “Unless…”

“OH FUCK!” Lucio shouted, not taking their eyes off the burning pan, “Um… I may have made an oopsie…”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?” Nadia shouted, mortified, “Someone, stop the fire!” she demanded.

Everyone gasped in shock, with Asra walking as far away from the fire as they could while Portia pulled Julian towards her before his clothes could have caught on fire as well. Muriel irked his head, trembling at the sight of fire slowly spreading to the other cookware. The fear didn’t stop him though, as he quickly found the fire extinguisher, stopping the fire.

“Oh, thank you,” Nadia said, hugging Muriel tightly, “You’ve saved us!”

“Why do I smell fire?” MC asked as they walked over to the kitchen, “Nadia, explain!”

“Lucio started a fire.”

“Oh my God,” MC said as they buried their head in both of their hands, “Did anyone get hurt?” they asked calmly, not bothering to move.

Nadia quickly took a glance at Lucio and Muriel. She knew very well that Lucio would complain like a little child had he gotten a single bruise. Muriel didn’t seem hurt either, in fact, he turned away, going back to his station as if nothing happened.

“No, sir, everyone is fine,” Nadia stated.

“Nadia, go back to the station, as for you Lucio,” MC raised their head, staring at Lucio as if they were about to murder him on the spot, “I want the oven spotless and you as far away from it as POSSIBLE!!!”

“Yes, yes, sir,” Lucio visibly shook as he got to work.

 “Come on, this is our chance!” Vulgora shouted as they cut some meat, handing it over to Vlastomil, “DON’T,” they said before Vlastomil could even start complaining.

“Is the shrimp pasta done?” Scout asked.

“We’re on it!” Volta said as Valdemar gave her a prepared sauce. She carefully poured it over the pasta, fighting the urge not to stuff her face with the food like yesterday. As soon as they were done, she carefully carried it over to Scout, who nodded in approval.

 Soon enough Valerius walked over, picking up the plate, taking a glance at both kitchens. Sure, his team was very slow, with only a couple of dishes out, but the other team was somehow far worse. He smirked as he walked over to the table.

“Your order,” he said as he put the plate down, “I hope you enjoy it,” he said with a smile plastered on his face as he walked over to the other table.

“Good evening,” he said as he eyed the customers, “How can I help you?”

“Oh, hi there~” a woman greeted him happily as she played with the blue fabric of the dress, “So, I’d like…” she stared at the menu for a moment, then pointed out at one dish, “This. As for the drink…” she thought for a moment, “I’d like some champagne!”

“Champagne along with that food?” Valerius asked, disappointed, as well as one of the men sitting with the girl.

“Seriously Star,” an older man shrugged, “Everyone knows that red wine would go much better with it.”

“Oh, then I’ll take the red wine,” she said, a bit embarrassed that she had to be corrected by her colleague.

“Agreed,” Valerius said as he wrote down her order, “What would you like, sir?”

“I’d like some pasta, no meat,” he added, “I’m a vegetarian.”

Valerius wrote the order down and, just before he could hand the order over to the opposite team, one of the customers called for him. He turned around, hiding his annoyance, “Is something the matter, sir?” he asked.

“Look at this crap!” the woman gestured at her plate, “It looks disgusting!”

Although he’d gladly agree with the woman, just because that would put the opposite team in a terrible position, Valerius knew there was nothing wrong with the dish. “My apologies, but I don’t seem to understand. What are you complaining about?”

“It’s too hot for me to eat it! And look at the colours!”

Valerius took another glance at the plate and after a moment continued talking with less patience, “What do you want me to do? To blow your food? Just wait for it to cool down like all of the civilized people for God’s sake. Stop wasting my time,” he said as he went back into the kitchen, handing Scout all of the orders.

“Hey, I’m not done!” she shouted as she walked over to chef MC, “Sir, you need to put your waiters in their place!” she shouted at MC, “I have never been disrespected like this in my entire life!”

“What a coincidence, I can say the same,” Valerius commented, unbothered, as he took the plates, walking away from her, adding, “Apologies for not cooling your food down.”

“See?” she pointed at Valerius, “I demand-”

“Miss, I’m working here,” MC said with a deep frown on their face, “Nobody has the time to listen to your stupid complaints,” they added as they wrote something down on the paper, “Please return when you have a reasonable complaint, if not, go to the psychiatrist and solve your issues. Don’t lash out your anger on my staff.”

“How bold of you to complain about my anger!” she wanted to continue, but as soon as she saw MC’s cold face, stopped, going back to her seat.

“Look at that idiot,” Vulgora laughed as they chopped some meat, taking a glance at Volta who was devouring the returned food, “Hey, what are you doing?!? Get back to your station!!!”

“Oh come on,” MC frowned as they watched Volta go back, “Speed it up, speed it up! Stop wasting time on the leftovers!”

Volta nodded, her mouth still full of food.

“My grandma would cook faster than all of you!” they shouted, taking a glance at how the other kitchen was doing, and oh boy, they had what to see.

The other kitchen was a mess. Portia accidentally spilt the boiling water on poor Lucio’s arm and it seemed that Asra and Muriel enjoyed the sight while Nadia and Julian pretended to not hear Lucio’s screams.

“Are you alright?” Portia asked, worried, “I’m so sorry!” she said as she grabbed his hand, only to find out that Lucio was pretending.

“Got ya!” he shouted like a little kid as he showed her his metal arm, “As for you,” he turned to the other three, but before he could make any remark, he noticed MC looking at them, their face turning redder and redder every moment.

“What in the world is going on?!?” they shouted, losing all of their patience. Within a moment the restaurant was closed and all of the chefs shivered in front of MC.

  “You were terrible, disgusting!” they shouted and paused, trying to calm themselves down, “You,” they turned to Volta, “I believe we’ve talked about not eating food during the job.”

“Yes, but Volta couldn’t help herself,” she quickly explained, “Volta is sorry-” she would have continued, but MC raised their hand, signalling for her to stop.

“Your team was so terribly slow-”

“But we were two cooks short! Of course, we’d be slow!” Vulgora protested.

“I know that,” MC stated calmly, “You were also most complimented, especially the meat dishes. Who was in the meat section anyway?” they asked as all of them pointed at Vlastomil. At the sight of him, MC couldn’t help but forget all of the rage they felt. After a good minute of laughter, they continued, “Seriously, you made the dishes?” they wiped off the tears in their eyes, “Good job. Keep it up,” they said as they left Vlastomil to dwell in his existential crisis.

“I…” Vlastomil said, not bothering to stare at the camera, “I’ve been a vegetarian my whole life! I’ve never had any meat in my house…” he paused for a moment, still trying to process MC’s compliment, “So why did people enjoy my food?”

 “As for you,” they turned to the other team, “Yesterday you were, you were amazing, how did it all change in one night? I believe it’s obvious who is the losing team. Muriel, you were the best of the worst, choose two candidates for the elimination,” with that, MC left the two teams on their own.

“Bye bye Lucio!” Vulgora grinned.

“What do you mean?! I’m not getting eliminated.”

After that sentence, everyone stared at him, thinking the same thing – could Lucio really be this dumb?

“What if, what if I get eliminated,” Portia started to get worried, “I mean, I could’ve seriously harmed someone,” she continued with her blabbering, “Oh, what will I do?” she started crying.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” Julian reassured her, “Everything will be fine.”

“No, it won’t!” Portia said, “I could have seriously hurt someone, do you think MC will let that slide?” she stared at Julian, her eyes becoming glossier.

“Look, you made no damage whatsoever,” Julian explained calmly as he tried to soothe his sister down, “That idiot could’ve burned the whole restaurant down.”

“Hey, don’t bring me into this!” Lucio shouted, “You did nothing the whole time! You were slow, unorganized and most of your dishes were returned!”

Julian ignored his comments, turning to Muriel, “Please don’t choose Portia,” he begged, “Choose me!”

Lucio turned to Muriel as well, “Don’t even think about choosing me!”

Muriel didn’t say a thing, instead, he just sighed, leaving the room.

“He… he won’t vote for me, right?” Lucio asked, feeling nervous.

~~~

“So, Muriel,” MC said as all of the chefs aligned, “Who do you choose and why?”

“I choose Lucio and Portia,” he felt shame as Portia’s name came out of his mouth, but there is no turning back now, “Lucio could’ve nearly burned the kitchen down had I not stepped in,” he simply explained, “As for Portia, she could’ve harmed someone with that boiling water,” he quickly added, trying to make Portia sound as good as possible, “Also, Lucio’s fake screams were completely immature. Such serious injuries shouldn’t be joked about.”

“Wait, please,” Julian walked out of the line, “I should be eliminated!” as soon as he said that, a smirk appeared on one certain doctor’s face, “I didn’t do anything when the fire started, I ignored Lucio’s cries and many people complained about my food! I, I’m not even a chef! I’m a doctor. There is no reason to keep me in the competition!”

MC stared at him, thinking about everything he said, “Very well then, if you’re so eager, join these two,” they gestured at Lucio and Portia.

“The person that will be eliminated from this competition is…” MC finally continued talking after a long pause, “Julian. Take your things and leave Hell’s kitchen.”

Despite the loss, Julian smiled brightly at MC. “Thank you for not choosing Pasha!”

“It, it’s happening!” Valdemar said happily as he stared at the camera, “Oh, what is this… feeling?” they stared at their hands, “Is it joy? Yes, it, it must be it, I have never felt so good. Oh, this is a dream come true, trust me, there is no better feeling than finally proving an idiot wrong. I just cannot wait to come back to my ordination, I should better start writing down the list of specimen I want!” they squealed like a high school girl, making the cameraman quite uncomfortable.

“Well, it sucks that I’ve lost the bet with Valdemar,” Julian admitted, “But at least my sister can keep going. I genuinely hope she can win and achieve her dream!” he said as he walked out of the Hell’s kitchen.

[manjuhitorie]

tat - Shinoda’s Hitori-Atelier blog posts - REAMP Digest volume 4

Shinoda’s blog post via Hitori-Atelier! Please consider joining Hitori-Atelier and supporting Hitorie’s ventures today. How-to here: https://boatmanju.wixsite.com/hitorietranslations/hitorie-atelier 

It’s already been 3 months since REAMP was released, time really flies.

In that short bit of time we’ve already planned a tour ahead of us, and were given the opportunity to do the opening for the anime ‘86′. Let’s fucking go~~~~~ Is everyone faring well? I've recently rekindled my passion for sampling, I haven't felt like this in years. I'm taking free samples I find strewn across the internet and turning them into techno. I kinda remember mentioning my appreciation for techno in vol. 1 of this blog series, and yeah. I'm finally trying it out for myself. I've managed to make a pretty sick song if I do say so myself. You'll find it on Hitori-Atelier soon enough. (＊This is most likely the song titled 'mad candy', found in 'Shinoda's Contents') It's fun 'cause compared to vocal stuff, I use a whole different part of my brain to make techno. I say "This part of this sample has a good beat to it, I bet if I rearranged it like this it would make music~" and do it. Relatively speaking, this kinda music making matches my personality type really well. I feel like I've found a fucking good hobby for myself here. With that said, even though it’s a hobby, work is still work so the collateral damage of music-making is still vividly affecting my body. Like music is still music, and with the way I tunnel vision I'll end up at my desk for an obscene amount of hours. By the time I'm done with it physically and mentally I'm a wreck. Like the fuck do I mean by hobby, is this some kinda shitty joke Shinoda? Anyway let's talk about 'tat'. The question as to what the title means comes first. Initially I wanted to name this song "刺青(meaning tattoo)". Because the song ‘Perfume’ by ‘Eito’ (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MjAJSoaoSo) was a huge hit at that time so yeah.. But that idea failed ygarshy's inspection so I had no choice but to look around for a word similar to tattoo.

That was when I found photos of tattoos on Instagram with the hashtag #tat. This is it, I said. As a slang tat can mean many other things as well but I forget what they were. I'm sure you can find out if you look it up but, take note that none of it has much to do with the song itself. I considered '#tat' for the title as well, but it was too lame so I pulled back. This song was written when the album was almost finished and most songs ready: I reviewed the album as whole and felt that something was missing. I had wanted something with now tat’s tempo and mood to it to tie the album together. It turned out really well, if I may say so myself. Isn't it a great song though? I feel like all my efforts were worthwhile... It's fun to let the creative juices flow and write with whatever comes to mind. I tried to make the amount of guitar notes concise and solid. The tone was supposed to be graceful too but... ygarshy swooped in with a kick and his bass so heavy it sounds like he's blasting music from a little motorcycle. The melody too has the same makings as the hits these days. It’s about someone of the opposite sex with a bold tattoo who’s stuck in days of ennui, and me who’s gazing from afar wondering what these feelings inside me are. It’s about that sorta thing (?) - I think I managed to express it (????) The beat isn’t made to be far off from modern tuning either. I’m sure I could’ve harmonized it even better but, at the time I found good reason to make it more rock band-y, so I have no regrets. I only wish I made the song name something easier to find via search. It’s so hard to find the people talking about it... Starting with a verse and closing a song with that same verse is great, ain’t it. I’ve always liked songs with a bit of a whacky structure to them, Like November in HOWLS, it goes from verse 2 back to verse 1 then into the instrumental break. If you think it’s just any old number then prepare to be sorely mistaken - Or, that kind of fetishy stuff is important for music if you ask me. I received a fair lot of praise from people in the song-writing industry about tat, I’m happy. Though I’m not sure about the lyrics. Someone from our workplace told me that “Mushy gushy heart-wrenching lyrics would fit well”, so I sought out to do exactly that. The only problem is that my expression of mushy gushy made that person from work go “????” so making people’s heart clench is hard shit. This doesn’t leave here okay.. My dismay over the discontinuation of Chikyuu Monogatari is vented in here a bit as well. Though I don’t think Chikyuu Monogatari is boring. Not really. I saw a few people say that ‘tat’ is like the evolution of cakebox. And it makes sense to me now that y’all say it. cakebox was my solo project I did back in my mid-20’s. I made 3 mini pieces with 7 tracks and 1 EP with 4 tracks before stopping. I’m sure only like 10 people in the whole world ever listened to it. If you look it up you can still get it to listen too. Like an offering of random ass songs to my dead school life, I had a phase between my late teens and my early 20’s wherein I was obsessed with making songs using just my voice and guitar. The question of direction was beyond my consideration, I just sorta let the creative juices flow back then too and promptly set pen to paper. That was my creative process cycle. It was kinda like a diary. There’s barely any proper complete songs. The reason being that I completely lacked the skill necessary to make them proper. My guitar was alright but my singing wasn’t up to par, no one ever praised my voice at all. So I resolved that I just wasn’t cut out for it and strove to be a lead guitarist. Instead of my own songs I chose to go do band stuff, thus devoted myself to guitar.   Yet still my desire to make something proper stuck with me, and so soon after that I started a band in which I did guitar and vocals. we mashed stuff together and made song proper. Alas. Between creative differences and my own lack of ability, we were barely able to make something that I was proud of. After shit happened I ended up at home immersed in making my own songs. “Surely I could put all my experiences in bands and my own growth to good use, to turn my backlog of WIPs into something proper as well?” I thought to myself, and thus was the beginning of cakebox. I think that was the first time I ever got involved in making my own music through my own power. But my way of intense creation was too innocent for listeners or something, or like I wasn’t conscious enough of my headfirst personality... So I didn’t even have the sense to match the tuning up with modernity, and ultimately my work wasn’t clicking with society’s needs. That reality was crushing me more and more with every piece I made. I didn’t have absolute confidence in myself or conviction to push through either. After 3 albums the feeling of “Why am I even doing this” grew, and I found more purpose in Hitorie instead. From then on I devoted myself to Hitorie. These past few years in Hitorie have been nothing but learning experiences for me. After years of the four of us together stressing over what makes good music, I think my own work has leveled up as well. One thing I learned that has especially stuck with me, even now, is leader’s unwavering stance on “Believing that I’m just no matter what”.   For someone with my relative dispositions it’s a nigh impossible stance, and at often times I felt it was egoistic of him but... It’s what led him to create such powerful music, and it’s something we depended on greatly. The other day I gave Unhappy Refrain a full listen for the first time in a while. It’s perfect in every way, what the hell. Vocaloid as a genre was still establishing itself back then, and without a doubt this album served as a monument for the cause. The same way ‘my bloody valentine’’s ‘loveless’ was the cherry on top for the shoegazer genre. It’s made an immovable unsurpassable mark on music history. I really was in a band with a crazy person. To think that when I was in a band with him I more saw myself as the crazy amazing one. What the fuck was up my ass. I understand why felt the need for a band after making this album - why he brought us together - even more now. The obscene amount of notes in that album with a tone reeking of rock band stuff... It’s really flooded with his innocent yearning for rock music. I think the troubles he faced following Unhappy Refrain were the repercussions of him making such a huge monumental piece. But his stout core belief in himself - that he’s just - has stood equally as tall as that monument all the way. Now, after so many twists of fate.. I never thought I’d be writing AND singing my own songs for Hitorie like this. Except, one difference between the me of now VS. the me of old is that I don’t feel even a smidgen of unconfidence. I’m not worrying that I “don’t stand out” or “don’t suit societies needs” anymore. I feel like ‘tat’ might be the best song in the album (sorry ygarshy and Yumao). To the point that when people praise it I merely agree with them, “No lies detected” I say.

It’s all thanks to my time spent with Hitorie, the musical knowledge we sharpened, and the fact that my bandmates’ amazing performances have my back. If I don’t have something as big as this supporting me then I’ll just be a fucking chicken with no confidence in my music, after all. With that said, Music made by you yourself is an irreplaceable treasure, “If you made something good, then be proud”: this lesson of mindset was taught to me by Leader. It’s a really life-changing way to be so... If I mimic Leader at least this lil’ bit no one would make a bad face at me, right? What do y’all think? With that that said, the actual most pure thing that’s naturally come out of my head in years, with my actttual emotions stuffed in, is... The actttttual best song is “Utsutsu” if you ask me so. Look forward to the next entry of this blog series, y’hear me. Shinoda

[starlessskies94]

Herbal Tea (JoelxUnnamed SO)

Joel Miller was getting married.

Now there's something he never thought he'd ever hear again. Much less be the one to suggest the whole damn thing in the first place.

But she was different. After having learned that the two shared many similarities; Joel had unexpectedly found himself so drawn to the woman, he'd eventually ended up spending most of his free time with her.

They were of similar age. Both had a deep love for music and reading. She had taken on the job of smuggling to survive in the early years after the Outbreak, much like Joel had. She was confident and level headed when it came to dealing with infected. Wasn't the biggest fan of coffee but nobody's perfect. And last but not least; to make Joel's mind all made up...she was one of Ellie's favourite people in the whole world.

However this was currently Joel's biggest problem.

He was marrying the woman he loved more than anything...and yet not one single person had told Ellie the news.

It shouldn't have been this hard. At one point talking to Ellie had been so easy for Joel, just open your mouth and speak. But now each opportunity was filled with feelings of guilt and dread. Always putting a foot wrong; saying the wrong thing or just not speaking at all.

It had only been a couple of months since the seventeen year old had found out the truth, but it felt like years. Ellie still hadn't spoken to Joel, except only when she had too and even then the words had been forced, stiff and soaked in venom. He couldn't blame her for being angry. If anything he deserved it for lying to her for as long as he had. Though there were times he did wonder if she more hurt over the fact that he had lied or because of what he'd done. Maybe it was both. Again he couldn't blame her.

He'd known from the beginning it would be hard when she finally learned the truth. His biggest fear was that she'd leave Jackson. When she'd threatened to do so back in Salt Lake City, he'd been forced to give in. Foolishly thinking that just maybe he'd have just a few more years of ignorant bliss. Pretending that everything would work itself out. That maybe they'd be okay.

But Ellie wasn't stupid and Joel knew that. His heart had broken a thousand times over as he witnessed her break down, as she recoiled at his attempt to console her. The hate and hurt in her eyes as she stated they were done and walked away.

Since then he'd stood in the kitchen window or by the back door, just watching and waiting. The gentle melodies drifting through the nights breeze as Ellie played quietly in her room in the yard. So many times he had wished for the confidence to walk over there and knock on her door. To explain? To beg for forgiveness? Joel wasn't even sure anymore. He just wanted Ellie to talk to him.  But he also knew he couldn't rush or force this. Ellie would talk to him when she was ready, whenever that would be.

And so he had respected her decision and kept his distance. Continued as normal, as difficult as that had been at first, he'd somehow managed it.

He was sat outside watching the sunset slip passed the tree tops of his freshly trimmed yard. There wasn't much to do on his days off and with his fiance out on a late patrol; it seemed a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to tidy things up a bit. And if Joel had to admit; he had been putting it off for a while, he thought to himself as he raised his mug to his lips.

"Whatcha' drinking?" A quiet voice asked. A very familiar, very missed voice. He turned in his chair to find Ellie awkwardly stood by the bottom of the steps glancing up at him. Her face not giving away any emotion. He hastily sat up in his seat as his words struggled to form in his mind. Throat closing up and chest tightening. So caught up in the fact that Ellie was finally talking to him, he chose to take a pause of breath before replying. A small fragile smile touching his lips as eyes looked down at the mug in his hands.

"Uh...Herbal tea." Joel said. Quietly chuckling to himself, not quite believing his own words. Though it seemed Ellie didn't either given her confusion at his answer. "But you hate tea." The girl state and he couldn't help his smile again at her comment. "Yeah well, better than nothing. And I couldn't exactly say no when Tommy offered, it's Maria's recipe. Apparently she uses all kinds of herbs, other plants and flowers to make the stuff. Supposed to help with keeping you awake or help you sleep...I don't know, I can't remember."

He was rambling. He knew he was. But this was the longest conversation he'd had with Ellie in over six months. He didn't think he could stop himself from talking even if he wanted to. Eventually he words ran out and all went quiet. Once again giving life to that horrid distance that so rudely placed itself between the two. Even now Joel could see it growing. That invisible bastard that was pulling Ellie further away. He wanted so much to hate it for what it had done to them. But how can you hate something born your own creation? As much as he wanted to tear it away, to pretend it wasn't even there at all. He was the one who had put it there.

He was the reason that warmth in Ellie's eyes was cold every time she looked at him now.

They were still facing one another, neither saying a word but the silence deafening. Ellie signed heavily as she turned to leave, Joel left to accept the conversation was now over. Just pretty damn grateful that she'd stopped to take time to talk to him at all, until she stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back. He said nothing as he watched her cautiously climb the steps towards him, only to stop mid step. One foot left on the lower step behind her while she leaned on the other in front. She glanced up at him and Joel could see the hurt from where he sat.

"I heard you're getting married." The words were quiet, almost a whisper but Joel heard them. Could hear the sadness weighting her voice down, the disappointment and confusion. He stood placing the mug down on the seat as he stepped towards her, his hand reaching out to rest on the railing by the steps. "Yeah...I am." He replied gruffly. "Did...Uh...Did Tommy tell you?" The dread was back as was the guilt. His heart was racing, stomach churning the longer she stared at him. She shook her head and looked down, nervous hands pulling at the sleeves of her jacket.

"No. Dina heard some guys talking about it in the barn this morning." Damn gossips. Joel specifically told Tommy he didn't want the whole town knowing. Wasn't there business anyway. But for Ellie to find out like that...well shit. That wasn't fair. And he wanted to tell her that but the look she gave him stopped him completely. She looked hurt. Betrayed. The tears welling in her eyes pulling at his heart till it ached.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked with a broken voice. Just on the edge of breaking into a sob. And Joel was right there with her. All over again wanting to beg for forgiveness. Except this time he caved, in a few strides he was stood beside her. Arms awkwardly hanging by his sides as he fought the urge to pull her into a hug. He didn't think he could take it if she pushed him away a second time. Instead they balled into fists; the frustration getting the better of him as he signed deeply. Eyes now shamefully cast down to his feet. "I wanted too. But I...I guess I wasn't sure how." It was a pathetic excuse and Joel knew that even as the words came out of his mouth. "It's not exactly been all that easy to talk to you these last couple of weeks."

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she scoffed bitterly, her mouth curling into a harsh scowl. "Whatever Joel. Enjoy your fucking wedding!" The girl spat as she turned and stomped back down the steps. Joel cursing himself for once again making things that much worse. But still against his better judgement, he followed her.

"I'd like for you to be there kiddo...if...if you want to." He knew it was a long shot but it made her stop. Frozen in her path back towards her room, her trembling hand just resting on the doorknob. She was angry that much was clear but maybe if Joel was gentle enough, he could get through. Maybe she'd actually hear him out. "It's just I know how well you two get along...She really loves you Ellie. I think it would mean a lot to her if you came."

She didn't move. Not even an inch. And she was quiet so for so long that Joel actually thought at any moment she'd explode into the rage was evidently brewing within her. Instead she just let breathed slowly, silent tears streaking down her face as she glanced back his way.

"I'll go. But this changes nothing Joel. You understand me? Nothing." She didn't give him time to reply as she stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her. Joel's shoulders dropped as his whole body sagged in sadness. Like a kick to the stomach he felt winded, hopeless and numb. Feeling the heavy weight of his own mind as he nodded in a reply given much too late. He turned and headed back towards the house, forcing himself back up the steps and grabbing his mug as he went through the door into the kitchen. Shuffling towards the sink as he dumped the rest of the green liquid down the sink.

He always hated tea anyway.

[just-anka]

I realised I haven’t really regularly posted here since like... I don’t even know, September? It’s been a while, anyway. A lot happened, and I now feel like actually writing a post for the first time in a while, so here goes haha. The first bullet point is entirely work waffle so feel free to skip. Apologies in advance for the fact that this post will probably reach novel length by the time I’m done. 

• I took a week off in late September before Ben started his new job so we could go to the mountains for a bit, and it was a much-needed little break from work. And pretty much right after I got back, work got completely mental - nothing bad as such, just one thing after the other, loads of deadlines, so many important things. First I was finishing up data for a paper (first authorship was being debated which is partially why I threw myself into the job so much, but it looks like it’ll be the PhD student before me’s now, which is how it should be tbh, it’s much more hers than it is mine), then the date for my first committee meeting was set and I suddenly had only two weeks to prepare (did not think it was going to be that short notice, whoops, had a very stressful two weeks but all went well - for us, this meeting means presenting our research plan and preliminary data to a committee of four professors so they can give you input, it’s not suuuper formal but still pretty stressful), then I had to write the report for that (I love writing so that one was okay), then there was suddenly a lot to do for a really important cooperation with a company (big money responsibility which stressed me the fuck out), and then, just as I thought I was pretty much done for the year, I realised I needed my lab book up to date for my end of year meeting with my PI (which wouldn’t be such a big deal, except I didn’t have a lab book at the time. Never got around to starting one. So nine months of lab book were written within another very stressful week). Whew. Even writing this out makes me feel like that was a lot haha. 

• After the end of year discussion, I really was done for the year - I officially worked until the 23rd but there was not that much actual work happening, and with the pressure off after months, I properly crashed for a few days. Ben left for England on the weekend after to see his family for christmas etc, and I spent most of that weekend sleeping and doing very little. It was needed. Then my mum came to visit me for the holidays and we had four really lovely days together, also involving a lot of chilling (the only actual thing we did was that magical winter hike that I posted some pictures of the other day). 

• And now I’m skiing! I was planning to go to England as well for NYE to see Ben’s family, but with the corona situation escalating again lately I decided it was too risky for just a few days. So I made a last-minute plan to go skiing by myself instead, because all that involves is a 2 hour train journey. I’m actually staying in a hotel too, which I’ve never done by myself before, I’m usually a dorm in a hostel type of person, but well. Covid has changed a lot of things :D trying to stay safe and away from people, which is of course not entirely possible in a ski resort, but it’s going okay. The skiing itself is great, it’s really nice having some time to go at my own pace and a few days in a row. Today was day 4 and I’ve really found my groove again (more on that later). There’s not much snow though so not many off-pisteing opportunities :/ I’m staying until Monday and then it’s back to work on Wednesday. 

• Speaking of skiing, we’ve got season passes this year, my first season and Ben’s second. We’ve just been doing on the weekends so far - since the 21st of November I just realised while looking back in my calendar! That’s one hell of an early season start haha. We did just one day three weekends and then one full weekend right before Ben left. The first few days were bloody hard. For context, I learned to ski before I learned to walk and loved it as a child, then stopped for a few years because I felt like I wasn’t progressing anymore and was getting bored with it, basically. Then last January I went to France with Ben and his skiing friends and got introduced to freeriding and the idea of ski touring, and now I’m back to loving it haha. I’d ideally like to not have to resort ski anymore at one point (meaning touring) because I know it’s terrible from an environmental standpoint but... idk. It’s currently my only option, and I love it a lot, so I guess it feels okay? Anyway, since I learned to ski so early, it’s the one sport that I’ve always been pretty good at and like, never get scared, at least not on piste. Until this year. The first three individual days were just all kind of horrible, the conditions weren’t ideal with very hard surface and tons of ice and pretty busy slopes, and only steep terrain open as well (Engelberg, our “home” resort - we have a season pass that encompasses a bunch of resorts so we’re not limited to one - is literally dead flat beginner’s slopes, which weren’t open in the beginning, or red runs that should be black and black lol). Pairing loads of ice with my old skis which barely have an edge anymore was... not ideal. I was so scared constantly and it made me like I lost all my ability etc etc. But yeah, turns out I just needed a few days and some easier conditions to get back into it, and now ice and steep stuff and everything is fine again. Who would’ve thought. (a sensible person, probably). 

• But then, the full weekend we skied in December was awesome! Saturday already felt much better and then it snowed a bunch over night and Sunday we spent all day powder skiing, basically. I learned SO much and just had an absolute ball! Definitely one of the best days skiing I’ve had, and one of the best days recently in general. 

• Plus that whole weekend was just lovely, car camping in a campsite full of huge campervans was pretty fun :D I love the looks we get when people see the car and clearly wonder where we sleep. And we’ve got our setup perfected for winter now so both the nights were toasty. Friday night we had dinner in “bed” watching a movie, and Saturday night we sat in the little kitchen (the campsite has it open for everyone, but everyone else there has a camper, so it doesn’t seem to be used much) drinking tea and playing cards and ahh. Camping in the mountains. My ideal life eh? (though the weekend before this wonderful one, we got snowed in because it dumped over a metre over night completely unexpectedly and that was stressful as hell, but I think that’s a story for another day, if ever, I’m kind of trying to forget that day :’D) 

• Yesterday I also finally took the plunge and ordered new skis. Been debating for ages which ones to get but I’ve finally decided and I’m now very excited! 

• Ok this post so far reads as “work and skiing” which is pretty much what November and December were and probably what January is going to be too haha. Ben and I want to ski another week together end of January as well, and there’s some big exciting work things coming up as well. 

• Even though I have to admit, now that I’m on a break, I’ve spent a lot of time dreading work and questioning my career choices and all of that lark... sigh. I love my job most of the time, but I kind of hate having a job? If that makes sense? Sometimes (okay a lot of the time) I just wish I had more time for other things that I care about. But I also now I’m lucky to have that job, especially this year, and lucky to have a job I don’t hate, and get to do a lot of fun stuff on the side, even if it often means little sleep and downtime. 

• Speaking of things I care about, I was on a proper roll with writing for a few days before and after Christmas. It’s ebbed off again a bit, but it was still pretty cool, and my totally-useless-all-cheese-project is now 33,000+ words long and like, half-way there story wise. Had a lot of fun with that. 

• Lastly, Ben is still in England, and he’s coming back next Sunday, and I can’t wait! I miss him so much when we’re not together it’s actually silly. Although it’s less stressful this time than the last few times because... we live together, his work just offered him an unlimited contract from January, and I’m stuck here for another 2-3 years, so it looks like we’ll actually get to be in the same place for now. Which is all I wished for last year, and I’m so damn grateful - that stability really is the best thing 2020 has brought for me. And, as he said, even though we were apart for the start of the new year, it will hopefully bring more time together than any previous year ♡

• Okay I think this is long enough now, if you actually made it until here you’re a hero and I will try and post a bit more regularly again now to avoid this size of mind dump :’D I hope you all got into the new year alright, it feels very strange to me that it’s 2021 because I actually slept through midnight on new year’s for the first time since I was tiny haha but I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way! 

[ddagent]

I know we just got it, but is there a chance of a follow-up to Brienne being able to read people's minds? It's sooooo good.

I have been absolutely overwhelmed by the response to telepathic!Brienne, and I truly hope you enjoy this follow-up! Thank you to @resthefuture​ for this AMAZING moodboard! 

Part One, “Noise” can be read here.

Brienne’s elbow jerked, and a nearby coffee cup tipped to the side; brown liquid spilling across the conference room table. Her colleagues scrambled to clear away the papers littering the surface; a flurry of thoughts bombarding Brienne as she suddenly became the focal point of the meeting. 

What a klutz. 

You’d think someone with arms that long would have better control over them. 

What is Tarth even doing here? She hasn’t worked on a proper case in months. 

Fuck; thanks a lot, Tarth! Why don’t you go back to the bridge you crawled out from?

She shouldn’t be here. She probably has a concussion. 

Brienne looked up at that last thought; Jaime Lannister’s voice cutting clear across the din. Despite the concern in every syllable, the senior partner sat in his chair, scrolling through his phone with disinterest. He seemed utterly oblivious to her mishap at the other end of the table. And, yet, Brienne was sure it was him. Sure it was his voice, filled with longing, that had called out for her to look at him for once. And, yet—

“Are you finished, Ms Tarth?” Brienne opened her mouth to respond, but Lannister didn’t allow her the opportunity. “Good. Stone: update on the Greyjoy case.” 

As one of her fellow associates launched into the latest legal battle between the brothers warring over their father’s will, Brienne dropped to her seat; cheeks flushed. On a normal day, knocking over a coffee cup and drawing the ire of a senior partner would rank amongst one of her worst. But her newfound...ability pushed it to the very top. Her colleagues barely tolerated her. Renly Baratheon used her. And Jaime Lannister— Well, Brienne wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him just yet. 

The meeting finally drew to a close, and her colleagues filed out one-by-one. Renly was the first to leave; he had an appointment with an intern at the advertising agency on five for some illicit fun in the men’s bathroom. Her colleagues had casework, calls to make, games to play. Brienne was the last to rise, and almost the last to leave. Jaime Lannister remained sitting; his manicured fingertips tracing the grain in the wood. 

“We don’t do injury claims here, Ms Tarth.” 

Her forehead furrowed. “I’m–I’m sorry?” 

He pointed at her face. “The bump on your head. This is a serious firm, taking on serious cases. You won’t find anyone here to take your case if you decide to sue.” A lawsuit is too good for whatever animal did that to you, anyway. A broken jaw would be better. 

“I—” Brienne was tired of half-finishing her sentences; so overwhelmed was she that words were far beyond her grasp. So she swallowed, straightened, and said: “I don’t intend to sue, Mister Lannister, but I do intend to press charges when the gold cloaks catch whoever was responsible.”

If she hadn’t heard his soft, aching thoughts, Brienne would have missed the taut line of his shoulders; the tightening of his grasp around the table. “You were attacked?” A broken jaw is far too good. I’ll call Tyrion; he knows people. We’ll have him buried by day’s end. 

“No!” Brienne blurted; Lannister’s eyes widening at her sudden outburst. Fuck. “I mean, I was attacked, but only because I was trying to save someone else from being mugged.” 

“Well, aren’t you the gallant knight.” Like Ser Blue. Tall, strong; I bet you could pin me–no, Jaime, not in the workplace. “We have an excellent healthcare policy, Ms Tarth; we here at Lannister, Baratheon, and Targaryen pride ourselves on it, in fact. I suggest you use it.” Please go home, Brienne. Get some rest. 

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But this was me covering my own arse; if you decide to sue us later for breach of care or...whatever, your case won’t hold water. I’d get some ice for your head, though. That bruise makes you look even uglier than usual.” 

Lannister rose from his seat and made his departure from the conference room. He looked like the Warrior as he departed: expensive suit, well-cut mane, golden grin. But Brienne could hear his thoughts, and they betrayed a different kind of man. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did you say that, you idiot? Now she’s going to think you think she’s ugly, and judging from last night’s— Brienne was grateful when Lannister disappeared from her eye-line, and she could no longer hear him. If she had any doubts that his thoughts were about her, they had evaporated some ago. Jaime Lannister, the most eligible bachelor in King’s Landing and a disgrace to the legal profession, liked her. 

Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too loud. Too much noise. 

Brienne retreated to her office, adjusted the blinds and shut the door. She logged onto her company laptop and pulled up a search engine, deciding to start at the beginning. Hearing people’s thoughts brought up more than a few results about mental illness. Telepathy was a more prosperous search, although Brienne was led to more than one site promising to teach people how to read thoughts for a monthly fee. Her search came up with nothing as to how to control or stop it; the most useful advice she saw was not telling a maester she could hear other people’s thoughts. 

After a while, Brienne opened a new window and typed in Jaime Lannister. 

As expected, there was the firm’s website; a series of tabloid articles detailing his well-publicised affair with his step-sister. The images tab revealed numerous photoshoots for various magazines, including a charity calendar of various attorneys in the city. Renly’s month had been in Brienne’s kitchen all year round. The news tab made mention of cases he’d won – and the Aerys Targaryen debacle. He’d wrecked Targaryen’s defence on purpose; had almost been disbarred had his father not come to his aid. Jaime Lannister was deplorable. And he liked her. 

Before Brienne could fall down a rabbit hole about what that said about her, there were two knocks at the door. Renly didn’t even wait to be invited in before he came inside, throwing her that winning smile. “Hey, you.”

She quickly pulled down the lid of her laptop before he could see the pictures of Jaime and jump to the wrong conclusion. “Hello yourself.”

“So, earlier, I mentioned that very special job for you?” 

“Right.”

“Shall we head to my office? We can talk about the case, one-on-one.” Come on, you never miss the opportunity for some alone time with me, Brienne. Take my special job, so I can get some jobs of my own down at the Club. “I’ll get the tea – no coffee.” 

“I–I can’t.” Are you serious? Brienne was serious. She was better than this; a better lawyer than this. Now she knew the truth, she would not let herself be used in such fashion. “I’m afraid I’m working on another case already.”

Renly chuckled. “Well, as a senior partner, I’m sure we can move a few people around.” Are you really trying to play hard to get, Brienne?

“The case I’m working on is for a senior partner. Mister Lannister asked for my help.” 

Oh, fuck off he did. He can’t stand you. “He did?” At that exact moment, as if the Gods wished to test Brienne further, Lannister walked by her office. “Jaime, can I bother you for a minute?”

“Why stop at a minute?” Why couldn’t you have run the Storm’s End office? Your brother is a bore, but at least you know where you stand with him. “What’s wrong, Renly?”

“Brienne here says you’ve asked for her help on a case? I was rather hoping she could help with mine.” 

Lannister’s head swivelled towards her; one eyebrow raised, intrigued. “She did, hmm?” Don’t tell me you’ve finally wised up to this arse, Tarth. She had. And if it came down to it, she’d rather listen to his thoughts than Renly’s. What a sorry state her life had become. “Well, she is. Working with me on a case.”

Renly spluttered. “But–but Brienne and I have a special working relationship.”

Oh, I know all about your relationship. She does all the work while you galavant around town. “Well, this case requires Ms Tarth’s special skillset. Sorry, Renly. Guess she’s mine now.”

Brienne was about to voice an objection over being treated like property when she heard Jaime’s inaudible sigh. If only. 

[hydra-collector]

Suck Me Out

Ships: Intrulogical, some Intruloceit

Characters: Remus Sanders, Logan Sanders, Janus Sanders (minor character), Roman Sanders (minor character), Virgil Sanders (minor character), Patton Sanders (minor character)

TW: Self-harm, choking, autoerotic asphyxation (not really though), depression, self-deprecation, I don’t want to spoil but if any of those previous tags bother you even a little, I suggest you don’t read this (I’ll tag the spoiler, though), cursing

Words: 1,716

Summary: Remus wouldn't expect them to understand. He's intrusive thoughts, god of kinks. Of course they wouldn't see it. But once in a while he wished they would.

"I'm serious, Logan," Remus gestured to his tightly adorned garment, "necktie."

Logan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. "When you're done with your kinks, join us for movie night. We finally get to watch a documentary."

Remus shrugged and pulled tighter the pretty blue tie that had previously been on Logan's neck. His face was purple from the cutoff of blood and his hand struggled to keep grip. He began to tilt backwards a little towards the wall before Logan took his arm and pried away the tie.

"Remus, stop. You're gonna fall."

"But it feels so good."

Logan only sighed in response and reclaimed the tie around his own neck, leading Remus to the living room. 

Roman was the first to speak out of the welcoming mumbles.

"Remus, save your arousal for night time. We're trying to watch a fun movie about space," though he seemed skeptical of the amount he could enjoy a documentary.

Patton scolded the two of them for mentioning such subjects, but swiftly put on the movie anyway. 

Virgil and Roman became surprisingly enamored in the science of black holes and their possible opposite, white holes. Logan excitedly paused it at multiple points to fawn over or elaborate on some of the research like a child. Remus, however, sat leaning against Logan, staring mindlessly at the television.

What if I was in a black hole? 

Remus tried to shake the thought off, but it was persistent. 

If black holes lead to white ones that spit you out into another universe, could my world here end? 

Maybe he'd be happy in this other universe. Something in his brain would change and the sadness would be gone. Or maybe it'd be traumatic. 

"...Remus!"

"Huh?"

"I paused the movie to see if you were alright. You did not seem to notice when I did."

"Yeah, I'm, I'm fine. Think I'll just…" mumbling off something about the bathroom. 

The minute he left he felt lonely. And stupid. Lonely and stupid. He shouldn't have let them see that. Now Logan's gonna be concerned because there's obviously something wrong. He stared intently at the mirror. 

Ugly. They hate me. 

What if he said that to them? He'd be guilt-tripping them and he'd be a terrible person. Even thinking it , he's a terrible person. Die.

His arms flashed to his neck, grabbing as tight as possible. His balance began failing… 

No, he can't do that. Then he worries them and they don't need that. How does he even know death is better than this?

Thomas doesn’t need him. Thomas doesn’t want him. His mental health would be better if he never even existed. Thomas doesn’t deserve what he does.

I want to fix that.

He can't help but cry. Muffled shrieks that must sound like moans from the living room. Sharp breaths that must sound like enjoyment slip out. Hits to his arms and legs that only add to the many bruises sound disgusting to them.

But none of it is. 

Sure, they have good reason to believe that Remus has some kinks, he is indeed mostly intrusive thoughts, which he’d admit is related to kinks, but he half-wished they wouldn't assume. He didn't really want them to know, but it killed him to be constantly alone about it. 

Alone.

Forever alone.

Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil. They’re the “light sides.” Of course he’s happy Janus got accepted, but… he doesn’t get that. He probably never will.

Fuck it. 

He tiptoed his way to his bedroom, ceiling adorned with a hook in preparation. On a day easier than this, he’d drilled it for today. Under his bed sat a box holding the rope, paper, and pen he’d carefully hidden. He thanked his previous self.

Tying the noose, his ears kept open for visitors wondering where he was. Before he hung himself at last, he wrote.

I’m sorry. 

Patton, Virgil, I love you. Janus, I love you. My brother, I love you. And Logan. I love you. Thank you for caring. 

But it wasn’t a kink.

He questioned if he should refer to Roman as his brother, and decided at last to do it. He didn’t want to alienate him as he died. He’d never get to tell him again.

I’m glad this is the end. I wasn’t needed.

He kicked the chair from under him.

Thomas will be happier without me.

As the rope constricted, relief and fear washed over him.

They all will.

“Remus!”

--

His throat hurt.

“Remus?”

He then noticed he could see a face. A beautiful face.

Logan?

“L-”

As soon as he tried to speak, his throat stopped him. Logan took his cheek in comfort.

“It’s okay, Remus. We found you. You’re going to be okay.”

He looked around to find he was sitting on his soft bed, pillows piled behind his head. The rope, and the hook were both gone. A drill, that had presumably been used to remove the hook, sat on the far dresser.

“We found your note.” It was Roman this time.

“I’m so sorry we ever thought it was a kink. We should have talked to you.” Logan’s eyes were gazing prettily at Remus’s.

“-”

He was reminded he couldn’t speak, so pointed to the paper on which his note was, and made a writing motion. Logan soon obliged to his wishes, though getting a different paper. Remus began to write. Again.

You had good reason to think it was.

He smiled a bit, and would have laughed, when Roman and Logan read this. They didn’t seem as amused as he was, and only looked worried. He flailed his arms to get the paper back.

Y’all don’t understand my sense of humor.

Where’s everyone else?

Logan beckoned to the door and Janus, Virgil, and Patton came in. Seeing Janus’s scales, his beautiful face… he never did get to ask him out.

Janus.

Logan brought him over while Remus wrote his message.

Probably not the best time, but I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you that both me and Logan have a crush on you.

“What?”

His human side grew red. Someone, who you like, who’s just attempted suicide telling you they want to date you is a very odd feeling.

“Remus, what did you-” Logan attempted to look at his message to Janus, and immediately shut up when he saw it.

Can I talk to Virgil now?

Virgil had been snickering in his corner, seemingly able to read the paper. He stopped as soon as he was called, putting on a more serious face.

Sorry Janus pushed you down the stairs.

“Wh- you’re not going to say some sad thing about me leaving the dark sides and you getting depressed? Just apologizing for Janus?”

I’m not going to blame it on you. It was Janus who pushed you down the stairs. And my idea.

“I’d call you an asshole but you’ve just attempted suicide and this is your daily personality.”

Remus made peace signs before requesting to talk to Patton, who unsurprisingly apologized over and over for treating Remus like a piece of shit. He did need to apologize, but Remus knew he was making an effort. Even if it wasn’t going very well.

Hey Ro-Ro, my bro-bro.

Roman also apologized. 

I mean we were literally split for you to be the “good” brother and me to be the “bad” one. If anything that made it the worst.

Roman had nothing to do but give him a hug.

Logan,

could I have a kiss?

Logan smiled and kissed Remus lightly on the cheek. He was pretty sure it wasn’t a good idea to kiss someone on the lips if they’d been frothing at the mouth. 

That was tiny!

He would have gone to cuddle and kiss Remus more if no one else had been there. For now, Remus hugged everyone individually until they dispersed. 

Thankfully, Logan was put on watch duty, to make sure Remus really was feeling better, as he seemed, and wouldn’t try anything.

Logan pressed kisses to Remus’s forehead, cheeks, and nose. His warmth bled onto Remus, who desperately needed it. Logan’s eyes were beautiful. His arms wrapped around him. He felt safe. Remus snuggled into the affection, nearly happy he’d attempted suicide and been found. But-

He picked up the pen and paper again, reluctant to let go.

Logan, what if I did that because I wanted attention?

“Hey, Remus, no. You did it because everyone’s been against you. It’s made you feel like you don’t matter. But you do. We need you. Even if you did because of attention, it was because you needed attention. It’s okay if you wanted attention. If you were willing to go to… those lengths just to get attention, you needed it.”

Logan

thank y-

Remus’s eyes filled with bittersweet tears before he managed to finish writing, and he clutched Logan tight. He let go again to tell him more.

I felt so horrible. I still feel so horrible. I’m sorry I acted so happy when I wasn’t. I know you care but I shouldn’t be here. All I do is hurt Thomas. Now I’ll hurt him even more because I failed. He’s going to feel like shit. I’d pull out my own organs and put them in my horrible person pile if I could. It would have been okay if I’d succeeded. I’m so sorry if you would’ve missed me, but I can’t keep hurting Thomas. If I would’ve died he would have been fine, but I failed so-

Remus sobbed into Logan’s arms again, laying as close as possible, feeling his warmth, his body as much as possible. His boyfriend rubbed his hand over his back, arms, through his hair. He was starting to cry a little as well. He felt so horrible that he hadn’t helped how Remus felt.

“Remus, if a part of Thomas died, he’d have a piece of himself missing. It may not seem like Thomas wants or needs you, but you’re a part of him nonetheless.”

What do I do?

“Remus,” Logan turned his boyfriend’s face gently to look him in the eyes, “all you need to do is stay alive.”

What if I can’t?

“I'll be with you. As long as you need. You stay alive as long as you can.”

[twistinghearts]

Hi! Can i please have an emotional kiss with Idia please?👉👈💙

I’ll give it a try. I’m sorry that there is so much Leona, but it’s still all about Idia I promise. I hope you enjoy~

I was inspired by Katy Perry’s song Thinking of You

This had been different. That was what you wanted right? Something new to change up the pace and get your mind off him… but really all it did was make you miss him more.

Leona lightly flicked your forehead, “Oi, didn’t you hear me?” You flinched back to reality from the thump on your forehead. “Hey don’t flick me.” You pouted. “Don’t ignore my questions, and I won’t have to.” He gave you a swift kiss on the forehead, “I’d prefer your attention always on me anyway.” You shook your head slightly, considering asking for undivided attention was a common response from him. Better just to move on, “What were you asking about?” “What do you want for lunch? I’m having Ruggie bring it by so we can stay here. I don’t feel like going out today.” Leona wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. Outwardly you didn’t tense or anything, but inside you always felt a little stiff, like you weren’t comfortable in his arms. You leaned your head on his shoulder, trying to relax. “Why? I like eating at the cafeteria.”

“We did that the rest of the week. I don’t want to eat there today.”  

“Then we can get our own food and eat somewhere else on school grounds.” You argued, immediately noting Leona’s scowl at your suggestion. He didn’t say anything. You leaned in and gave him a soft peck on the lips. On the inside you resented the action, the kisses never felt like anything they just tasted like slobber. It wasn’t very enticing, but you knew it helped reassure him. “I just like the busy atmosphere…”

“Really? I’m pretty sure it’s because you don’t like being alone with me.” Leona responded lowly. Unfortunately it wasn’t untrue, when the two of you were alone he was very physically affectionate, something you were not quite used to based on past relationships. You didn’t hate it but it just wasn’t relaxing. You sat up in his arms. “That’s not it.”

He released you and plopped down on his bed, “Well, what is it then? I feel like I’ve been pretty damn open about giving you your space, but you don’t seem to have opened up for me at all. We’ve been dating for a month now and I’m running out of patience.” His words were backed with a growl.

“Don’t sound so mad.” Your response was sharp, and overall not the best move.

“I’m not mad, just frustrated!” He barked, not really helping his statement.

“Yes you are! You’re yelling!”

“Because you don’t seem to be hearing me!”

“Well, Idia never used to yell at me!” You huffed tuning away.

Leona’s ears twitched at that name. The room was silent for a moment before being filled with Leona’s laughter. He had thrown himself back on the bed covering his face. “Are you fucking kidding me! This is still about that basement dweller!” He stood shaking his head. “News flash sweetheart, I’m not him. I’m nothing like him; if you wanted to replace him you should have tried the octopus bastard. But why would you want to go back to someone like that anyway? If I remember correctly, he’s the one who dumped you.” Leona swished his tail, an almost playful smirk on his lips. If it wasn’t for the irritated tone, you’d think he was enjoying this.

“Stop it…” You mumbled, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to face that terrible truth you shut away.

Leona stopped in front of you, “And why was it he dumped you again? Oh right. He got bored. You weren’t enough for him so he got rid of you; like an outdated tool.” A soft pause, “And yet you still love him!”

“Shut up!” You went to push him away but he easily caught your hand. “He didn’t want you.” His words sank in, it felt like his claws were tearing you to shreds but it was only your heart that was broken. He knew how much it hurt you, part of him felt badly, but most of him was beyond caring. It was what you needed to hear. “I don’t want you either. I’m done being second best.” He released your hand and stepped back leaving you to stumble out of his room in tears.

You felt like falling to the floor and just sobbing. Just groveling in the dirt where you felt you belonged. You wanted to disappear, to cut your heart out so you didn’t have to feel like this anymore. You knew you had tasted perfection when you met Idia. Everything else would be second best so where could you go? What life was left without him in your world?

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Apparently your body knew that the only place was back to him. You hadn’t even been paying attention to where you were going after you left the lion’s den, but you soon realized you were at Idia’s door. However it still wasn’t much of a solution. It wasn’t likely he’d even open the door for you and if he did you were just a mess. Could you really face him, and the reality that he was just going to push you away again?

A chipper voice broke your dark thoughts. “I missed you!” Ortho sped over and hugged his ‘big sibling’ overjoyed to see you in these halls again. You returned the hug, giving him a squeeze that helped relieve some of the tension in your body. “What are you doing down here? Oh no you’re crying.” His shoulder piece slid over to reveal a tissue dispenser slot, he grabbed few and handed one to you. You blew your nose and dried your cheeks. “I-I miss Idia…” Ortho smiled a bit, “He’s missed you too.” Lies. Ortho probably wasn’t aware how those words felt like the twisting of a knife, he likely meant them to ease you but you knew there was no way Idia missed you. 

“You want to see him right?” Ortho turned towards the door. The mechanical lock whirred and clicked, giving a light beep before it popped open just a smidgen. You suddenly felt frozen and heartbroken all over again. You wanted to see him but what would it accomplish, he was just going to be watching you cry. Thankfully you had Ortho to make up your mind for you. “In you go~” He sang as he pushed you into the bedroom.

You scanned the room; Idia was sitting at his computer, entirely focused on his game. This place had so many memories for you that just came flooding back. The couch where you two would play games, you always inching closer to him until you could lean on him, curling up when you ultimately admitted defeat and the game was over; his bed where you could nap while he worked, just watching him or helping him as someone to bounce ideas off of. Sometimes when you were barley awake you would feel him playing with your hair, it always relaxed you. You didn’t do everything together but it was just comforting to have someone around. That comfortable atmosphere was now gone as you shook, trying to hold back tears. “Idia…” Your words were hoarse, little more than a whisper. There was unsurprisingly no response. You waited until you heard the victory music to repeat yourself, a little louder but still strained.

Idia turned eyes widening as he saw you. “You…” It really was you. “…why” He was stunned just staring for a moment. This was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. He had been taking longer route to class because he knew it wasn’t were you walked, and avoided any public outing in case you would also be there. His heart rate picked up seeing you again, not that you would know. You looked upset, was… was he the one who did that? The last time he saw you, you were crying. 

“How did” you even get into his room, he changed the lock code after you split, “Ortho.” He answered himself. You gave a slight nod. He looked away, gritting his teeth. “Was I not clear enough last time? I didn’t want you near me.” Were you really going to make him do this again, be the bad guy. You were already suffering; he didn’t want to make you cry more. However this was one of those situations where he didn’t get to do what he wanted. He stood, still unable to look at you, “We don’t go together, I don’t fit with people. You’re no exception.”

“I don’t care! I can’t… I can’t go on like this. I love you Idia!”  You wrapped your arms around him, somehow still finding comfort in it even though he didn’t return the gesture. “I tried.  I tried to get over you but I can’t. Everything just reminded me of you, made me wish I was still with you. It hurt… It still hurts; even more still not knowing why.” His answers then were vague and even now, saying things like you weren’t a good match, he was bad for you, and that it systematically was against the odds. “Is it really so bad? Is the reason you don’t want to be with me more painful than this heartbreak? I don’t think anything could be. So just tell me why!” You yelled before devolving into heavy sobs, “While I’m already broken... tell me… why don’t you love me?”

Idia bit his bottom lip, as he held you steady, letting you sob into his jacket. He hated seeing you like this. He hadn’t been expecting you to be this broken over it, of course you had been upset when it first happened, but it had been over a month, and you seemed worse. He thought this would be better for you, kill the dream before you got to attached, let you go before he had to see you suffer, set you free while you still had a chance of happiness so he didn’t have to see you suffer. It seemed that all of that happened anyway. “I care about you…” He knew he’d never be enough, and with his family’s curse it wouldn’t end well for you. “I thought… you’d be better without me. I just wanted you to be happy and that couldn’t be if you were with me.”

Your crying died down a little at his words. You could barely believe what you were hearing; you couldn’t tell if it made you feel worse or better. “You’re… you’re so stupid Idia.” You squeezed him tighter, forcing yourself to look up at him. “You don’t get to decide what makes me happy! I love spending time with you, and if you really feel the same… you’d let me be happy with you.”

“But-“ Idia wanted to protest but there wasn’t anything he could say. There wasn’t an opportunity for him to say anything either as you pulled him down into a kiss. Idia placed his hands on your wet cheeks, pressing deeper into the kiss. Despite all the emotions you were feeling, anger, sadness and joy the kiss put you more at ease. Even after everything Idia still made your heart race and made you feel safe. “I’m sorry.” Idia whispered, pulling his lips away but holding your face close, “I love you. I’ll never let you go again.”