#but lately i've been less fond of it because it feels a little too one-sided to me sometimes

[jichanxo]

Talk about Higashi my eternal bbygirl

first impression: okay i can't remember my REAL first impression (i.e. when i first ever laid eyes on him) BUT he was my first favourite judgment character, before lost judgment happened. he's still really really great. love you higashi.

impression now: almost the same but he's just gone down the rankings in terms of favourites. he's still pookie wonderful handsome cute etc

favourite moment: when the group are interrogating yui mamiya and after hearing about kuwana's plan he goes "damn i'm kinda rooting for this guy" LMAO. higashi kaito files apron is also good. also forklift driving. and also him realising that the pretty lady he saved was saori and getting mad that yagami isn't picking up her call right away. sorry it's just a lot of Little Moments yknow

idea for a story: literally nobody cares but i would love to put higashi in the same room as kuwana. watch him go from "oh this guy hates yagami? maybe this guy will get me" and then it slowly dawns on him that no. no this guy is worse. higashi might "hate" yagami but he does actually truly hate kuwana. this idea will never not be hilarious to me

unpopular opinion: his design is underrated as HELL the sunglasses + earring combo is a deadly combination 🔥 he looks cooler and more yakuza-like than a bunch of mainline yakuza characters without being tacky. prescription sunglasses king. kissing him

favourite relationship: seeing him bickering with yagami has really grown on me a lot lately… funny of them

favourite headcanon: he's well liked by the kids at the arcade (though initially seems intimidating) and a great boss ❤ and of course he has a forklift license

[batsplat]

I’m gonna sound like a boomer but we’re never gonna get any rivalries on par with vale’s feuds or actually any pre late 2010s feuds anymore. and I think social media is definitely one of the major reasons why. now you have to watch what you say bc it’s gonna be immediately broadcasted and some your 253655665 followers or insta or twitter are gonna overreact and go hurl abuse in another guy’s comments. and this is so lame.

right there with you anon. I've been wondering about the 'why are athletes these days so boring' question for years (not in motogp specifically) and one theory I've seen touted is just the increased professionalisation of sports, how much more all-consuming it is from childhood onwards - essentially suggesting athletes today don't have the time to develop a personality or cook up feuds lol. and I think there's probably something to that theory - the current demands of professional sports are inevitably producing some singularly single-minded athletes, far more pr-friendly and moulded into being acceptable to the average consumer... but the other part of the equation just has to be the incredible levels of scrutiny they're subjected to. social media and the rabid fanbases it helps cultivate have to be a part of that

I'm always wary of speaking too definitively about the vibes of an era I wasn't around to experience - obviously controversies back then were also, in fact, controversial, sometimes athletes had to walk back their comments, fanbases certainly were rabid... but it's all a question of degree, isn't it - and how relentless the content consumption is, the ferocity of the news cycle, how inescapable everyone's opinions on everything end up being. if you look at the general tone of the alien era, I just don't think that kind of thing would be possible nowadays. it really wasn't just valentino either, and it's always worth remembering the context of the time in which valentino rose through the ranks. his first major feud, after all, was with a notoriously abrasive rider who was hardly beloved by his non-valentino opponents - and let's not forget how he was physically threatened by two riders after his very first grand prix (to be clear, I am not endorsing threatening seventeen year olds and think it's probably quite good they don't do that anymore). god, if casey said some of the stuff he used to come out with nowadays, and not just about valentino either... the discourse, it would be bad. the jorge/dani feud too would surely have reached cataclysmic levels of toxicity

and there's a lot of people who say, 'well, why don't you think competitors can just be respectful to each other, why can't athletes just be tough in competition and friendly outside of it, why do you need everyone to hate each other' - look, I think it's fun! sports is supposed to be about extreme emotions, heightened emotions about these artificial contests that feel larger than life. in one sense, it really isn't that serious, but on the other hand it obviously couldn't be more serious. more important than life or death, as the cliché goes, or that orwell 'war minus the shooting' quote mat oxley is ever so fond of - but that's only because we ascribe it meaning. which allows it to exist in this fun zone where we can live out these bizarrely dramatic stories that are high on emotional stakes, but for all intents and purposes are rather less high on material stakes (certainly for the fan). it's a release of a kind, sometimes an escape. now, personally, I enjoy my drama with a little bit of edge, of nastiness, which I understand is a personal preference but don't think (as is sometimes suggested) means I am any less invested in the sporting side of the equation. it is the substance of the sport that provides the scaffolding for the human interest stories it generates, but fundamentally nobody would give a shit about sports without the human interest element - and to me, a feud is simply an extension of that principle

another probably controversial critique of the 'why can't everyone like each other' stance is that I just fundamentally believe it to be dishonest. or, look, maybe there are some competitors out there who can feel nothing but warmth and love in their hearts for the opponent who has just beaten them - which is very lovely for them, they're clearly far better people than I am. but I don't buy everyone feels that way and I also don't buy this is something that has changed with a generation or two. obviously, the norms within any given sport end up shaping how the athlete approaches competition, what they believe is acceptable to say or do, or even to think or feel. the emotions might be visceral, they may even resemble hate, but the question is to what extent we allow them to be expressed. if these people don't like each other, if they think uncharitable thoughts towards each other, then, y'know, let them have at it as far as I'm concerned. respect is overrated. and even when it's not just earnestly felt emotions, even when they really are just playing games, attempting to fuck with their rivals... well, that's the other question, is it. is it acceptable to deliberately attempt use 'psychological' tactics, perhaps even intimidation, to win a contest or not? to me, the answer is 'obviously yes' and 'that's how sports works', but I accept not everyone agrees lol

I have particularly little patience with this stance in motogp, I think, because the belief that 'riding in a manner that could physically hurt another human being' is an acceptable element of competition but 'not conforming to social niceties afterwards' is not feels viscerally absurd to me. now, the former just has to be countenanced to some degree or other as part of the moral calculus you are performing in even engaging with the sport, because fundamentally you cannot 'objectively' determine how much risk riders can acceptably put each other in before it crosses a moral line. as far as I'm concerned, then, you might as well have at least some patience for the latter too - we're already morally firmly in the grey here. and intimidation still happens, after all, mind games are still all the flavour... but there's this constant need for subtlety, to keep the nastier side of competing hush hush, that I find deeply tedious. sure, sometimes subtlety can be nice, but at this point it feels less like a personal preference and more an ironclad requirement. and this is the thing, right. sometimes, people are arseholes. professional athletes certainly are. sometimes, just like their fans, they feel violently extreme emotions. especially if they've just been competing. but of course, if every single controversy attracts such out-sized vitriol from fans, a moral referendum on everyone involved, a boiling pot of feverish partisanship... well, it's unsurprising if athletes try to steer clear from all that, isn't it

I also don't think we're going to get another feud that can get mentioned in the same breath as valentino's offerings any time soon, though perhaps next year we can have a good go at it. (ironically, of course, this is still an extension of one of his feuds - you have this built-in vitriol which I reckon at times allows it to worm its way past the filters all of these people have developed.) which, you know, I don't need them to artificially cook up feuds just for the sake of it. beyond broader trends between generations, obviously this is also a question of individual personalities and how they happen to interact with each other. if valentino's feuds are as good as it gets, I can live with that - I do still enjoy the sport plenty, am grateful to valentino for providing me so much good archival material to pour over and dissect, and don't want to ask for too much here. god knows, the current version of motogp is still highly dramatic by the standards of my main sport, and unfortunately I still watch that shit all the time. but it's still a bit of a shame that competitors don't seem to get a lot of choice in the matter these days. and it's a bit of a shame that fans seemingly prefer it this way, going by the vitriol they heap on athletes over any and every offence. it's also a bit of a shame that it feels like there's no real escaping the relentless partisanship of online fan spaces. personally I'm not all that into discoursing about whether things are 'good' or 'bad' and more into establishing whether something's 'interesting' and then thinking about it some more, which doesn't feel like much of an option if you for some reason ever get struck by the desire to interact with other fans online. but it is what it is, y'know. at least we'll always have that time valentino put a curse on a guy

[captainderyn]

31, 40, 48, and 50 as an optional bonus from the OC asks

Thank you for the asks <3

--

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain waht their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything)

I'm trying to think which of my idiots would be the most tumblr-bound lol out of my current OCs. V would run a helluva shitpost blog. Like you know the Heritage Post level shitposts? That is absolutely something she would be fantastic at. But she'd constantly be night blogging: "V, why are you posting at 3:43am?" "Don't worry about it".

Era, on a completely different note, if she was given the time would have a beautifully formatted, gorgeously aesthetic blog showcasing her paintings, her painting set up, scenes around Dromund Kaas (especially the floral gardens) with everything carefully curated. Theme? Moody pastels. Photosets? Color coordinated.

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share!

I have SO many fond memories linked to my characters, especially ones I've made since joining tumblr back in...*checks notes* 2016ish as I've really built myself a fantastic community of mutuals that are so supportive, have engaged me with my characters all the more, and created some truly stunning joint worlds. I'll highlight a few that I've stumbled back across while digging through tumblr (though its absolutely NOT an all encompassing list):

The entire Fictober 2019, where I wrote Moments in Time will forever be special to me; it was my first attempt at fictober and the outpouring of love and support and excitement to follow ficlets of Wulfwryn and Raenor (who were NEW) was so inspiring and as we've seen they've become some of my most written characters <3

Emeldir's Traffic Cone Jacket Saga aka the series of in game shenanigans, fics, and prompts that @greyias and I clowned about a few years ago but keep resurfacing every once in awhile :P

Co-writing fics and writing duo fics with mutuals, especially the Idan and Terrance Odessen Reunion that @lumielles and I wrote pair fics for. There's something so beautiful about writing together with friends.

The enabling you all do >:D the Dream Team of Five, Roslynd, and Rhys wouldn't exist if @tiredassmage hadn't encouraged my tomfoolery with pulling Five off the shelf and breathing new life into a character I didn't think I'd feel inspiration for again and that truly is the story with so many of my characters. They wouldn't exist without y'all! Not in the way they currently do.

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure?

Its a pretty solid toss up between Raenor and Tucdela. Hmmm...nah, I'll go with Tucdela because Raenor has his super saucy side which while that DOESNT mean he isn't the most perfect, cinnamon roll, it does mean he's a little less "pure" :P

50. Give me the good ol' OC talk here. Talk about anything you want.

Terrance has been on my mind a lot lately (hence the stumbling back on the fics) and I really really need to talk more about him because not only is his and Idan's dynamic fantastic, but I actually really popped off with him when I created him. The idea of a miraluka who struggles really really hard with using the Force to "see" as he gets overwhelmed extremely easily, especially on high population planets (like Coruscant) or highly Force attuned planets (Tython, Odessen) is something I want to explore more. That, and I need to write more JediSon and JediDad because Idan really comes through and extends a kind hand to a young kid who has not been shown that. The simple things like a cup of tea, or some spare soft fabric for his eye covering. I need an excuse to go wild over Terrance lol

[tortoisesshells]

for the fic-specific asks: i know customs and duties is an austen pastiche, but push it one step further! what's it look like in the austenverse?

I've tried translating it before, but it's been a weird experience: for all that Nellie's named from Elinor D. (& her younger half-sister, Mary, for Marianne D. - and I suppose there's a case to be made that Nellie's surviving daughter Polly, fond of pirates and jumping out of trees, shares some DNA with Margaret from the 95 S&S?) - there's a lot about Nellie that doesn't map perfectly onto Regency England, or at least Austen's two inches of ivory.

this ... got long. I'll save everyone by putting this under the cut.

In part, it's because Nellie's not genteel: she's the oldest daughter of a man who allegedly earned his living, the widow of a man who earned his living (and then some, and debts, and. well. it's complicated.), and the sister of a man who's not averse to some piracy from time to time. She's doing reasonably well, socially, in Boston in the 1730s, because Boston's rules in the 1730s are different.

But, I think, maybe: what's important about Nellie is that (1) she's terrified of poverty, and not being able to raise her surviving children in circumstances better than she had & (2) she's very aware of difference, and the precariousness of her current, relatively elevated station. So I think, sanding-off the specific stamps and edges of the base universe, Nellie's still a young widow with children, she's just - hmm. Well, she's not controlling much of an estate. Much more like the Hayters or the Musgroves than the Elliots or the Bennets, I suppose. She married up - maybe she's a downwardly-mobile farmer's daughter, or the same, but a country lawyer - she's since moved away from the country in which she was raised, and doesn't count much on her blood-family for support of any kind.

Let's just ... assume Jimothy's still a naval officer. It feels tremendously unfair for Nellie to get stripped of a lot of her specific backstory, but it's too weird to imagine him as, say, a prosperous landowner. Too many of his problems come from spending 5/6s of his life in the RN.

The real question is: what's the conflict? I assume, since we are living in Austen's two inches of ivory, there's a lot less smuggling, out and out lying, near-drowning and actual drowning/murder, piracy, and weird digressions on Protestant sects. So much of Customs hinges on Nellie and Norrington being on opposite sides of the smuggling problem, and the strain that puts on them individually and as people who genuinely like each other but sometimes fall short of understanding; there's not really a neat parallel that I can think of that fits within Austen's worlds and plots. I think, maybe, you could file down the plot to "Norrington threatens Nellie's ability to maintain her family" - maybe he's got some distant claim to the land? Or he's made his fortune in prize money during the Napoleonic Wars, and is looking to purchase an estate - meanwhile, Nellie's financially shaky, and cannot eliminate the possibility of selling Samuel's land and house, she would desperately like to avoid that possibility.

(that seems a little more like a Hardy plot to me.)

Let's just ... assume for the sake of argument, perhaps, that Widow Treat & family live in the same neighborhood as Norrington's older sister, Frances, whose husband is an MP. An estate close to the one member of his family he likes is appealing; the circumstances are sad, of course, but he's been at war for 22 years at least - he's a little inured to death. Nellie's will to rent it out, at least, after the harvest - besides, she spent the first 18 years of her life in a state of anxiety and embarrassment, why should the back end of her life be any different? She and the children go to stay with her late husband's Aunt and Uncle in Bath, which is, of course, where the Austenian comedy starts...

[neerons]

I'm so annoyed that the Boss is only getting one more season. He is my absolute favorite Voltage LI and I can't help but feel like they set him up to fail from the very beginning. He always seemed like an afterthought as all focus was on the 3S, and he was only added on as a LI after them. And whilst I don't mind a slow burn romance, it did alienate readers (I can still remember all the complaints following his first season regarding his lack of a name and how it didn't seem like a proper relationship between him and MC). Which is a shame as I honestly feel that Boss truly loves the MC, more than the other guys--he's changed far more than any of them, and for the better. Ultimately they tried something different but the execution was sloppy.

Making him an antagonist in other routes wasn't a horrible decision (girls like the bad boy, right?), but the way they went about it didn't help. Kei's route was set up for maximum empathy points, and whilst I'm not fond of the way they tackled an issue such as child abuse, it did endear Kei all the more to many readers and the cold, indifferent, callous attitude of the boss turned them away from him. If it had been set up differently and under a different scenario I don't think readers would have been as turned off by him.

Oh, and let's not forget that disappointing disaster that was his 3rd season. Overpriced with little to show for. I couldn't believe the amount of hearts I was paying for only 3 lines of dialogue. Hardly any raunchy scenes either. Ridiculous as his S2 was so good. It really showed that Voltage is pretty much done with him, as does the lack of any new special stories (especially compared to the others).

Honestly I can rant all day. That's how frustrated I am. Oh well, at least my wallet will be happy.

Yes I'm extremely disappointed too so I completely understand how you feel. I'm annoyed that he isn't treated the same way by Voltage, because them exposing him less makes the fans less interested, and since there's not a lot of interest from the readers, Voltage won't make more content for him. It's a vicious cycle.

I've been reading MK not long after it has been released, and the Boss had always been planned to get his own story as he was part of the Love Interests lineup in the title. He was either always there, or was quickly added just like the others.

I don't think him being added later is what made people less interested in him though. Some other titles have added characters some years after the initial release, and these added characters have been loved by the readers despite their late start. Some good example would be Takaomi Tsugaru from HLITF. He came later than the other LIs, his story is very slow burn, and yet a lot of people love him. Kei's story from MK is also very very slow burn (more than the Boss), yet he's appreciated plenty.

I didn't think about this at all, but you're completely right with your point that Kei being abused as a child made the Boss' depiction as an antagonist (in Kei's Main Story) a poor or dangerous choice. Due to how sensitive this subject is, I wouldn't be surprised if that's why people don't care for him the same way as the 3S'. Sadly, people don't know a lot about the Boss since not many will read his story due to that, which is devastating to me because now we get one last season, and yet he's an amazing character. (For anyone that might read this and who hasn't read Kei' story, no, the Boss doesn't mock Kei's past when he went through child abuse. He is a cruel character in this route but it's not linked to Kei's trauma).

I completely agree that the Boss was done dirty by Voltage. MK is a popular title, they could have easily put him in the spotlight if they had tried to advertise him like the others. So far, he doesn't have his own VIP room and isn't included in the events all the time. I'm sad because his mysterious side makes him all the more charming and it feels amazing to finally discover who he is as a person. It's what attracted and still attracts me to him. His way of loving the MC is beautiful and their banter is very entertaining. His sense of justice is beautiful too.

This is only my opinion, but I didn't dislike him as a sort of antagonist in the other routes. It's true when you say that a lot of people like the bad boys. They're interesting enough to want to know their motives for being bad right? Except the Boss isn't "bad" at all in his own route. He's just perfect 😩

I do think his character was a bit changed in Kei's route though. I just don't recognize him as being this cruel in his own route. He can be cruel if he wants and needs to be, but I felt like this agent side of him was very exaggerated to make MC and the readers take Kei's side. Kei's story is beautiful though, and every route is in its own way.

It's alright that the Boss is a cruel antagonist in Kei's route. I just wish people were able to make the difference between Boss from Kei's route and Boss in his own route, and I also wish Voltage treated the Boss the same way as the others because he has the same potential as them. I completely agree with you, I wouldn't blame you for being disappointed that his route will end soon. Let's share the chaos and devastation 😭

[iztopher]

If you're still taking those fanfic asks: ❤️ 👻(if not a wild one, then one you're fond of/have been thinking about lately) 🎁 🦈(or published fic that was hardest to write)!!

YESS thank u!!!

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

“I can’t do anything with this fabric in the way,” she says, and finds her voice is uncharacteristically sheepish. She’s at an impasse; she certainly knows better than to ask him if she can take off his breastplate. She’s not even sure she wants to– there’s something about her mental image of Galahad that belongs in shining metal, like if she stripped off too much armor he would disappear right along with it.

yes this fic is nearly four years old. yes it remains my favorite thing i've written

👻 What is your wildest headcanon?

I have trouble qualifying what my Wildest headcanon would be but one that I haven't talked about much and is definitely me taking an idea and running with it is that Aveyond vampires don't actually get married. I feel like immortal beings that all come from different cultures would fundamentally have a different approach to relationships than mortal ones, or a community that all originated in the same place, and instead of getting married, they celebrate milestones for their relationships - decades, centuries, etc.

On one side of things I feel like committing yourself to someone for your existence would be less common when the existence is theoretically forever, and on the other, I feel like the concept of committing yourself to someone once would feel kind of... cheap? when that could potentially stretch out for centuries. Like, I think because of their lifespans, reaffirming "I love you, I want to be with you" continually is way more important in partnerships than legally putting it into words once. especially because there's no kids to worry about from a legal standpoint with vampires LOL

I think Te'ijal wanted to get married because she thinks it's charming and human and she loves that stuff and everyone else in Ghed'ahre thinks she's a little weirdo for it. I think it would be SO FUNNY if everybody understands that Te'ijal and Galahad are a Thing but the concept of "unwanted marriage" is so foreign to any other vampire that they continually misunderstand the relationship and make Galahad want to explode. Which brings me to the next question.

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Eventually, Galahad gets fed up with the fact that people keep asking about Te’ijal, his heart, his other half, his lover. Head in his hands, he groans, “has no one in this town heard of a wife before?” When she tells him, he goes quiet. She expects dismissal, or scoffing, or maybe anger – but he just looks away for long enough to re-contextualize the past decade in his head and turns back to her once it’s all fallen into place for him. “Is that why you wanted to marry me? Because you knew no one would ever willingly agree to be with you more than once?” Despite his best efforts, cruelty is not Galahad’s strong suit. That, though. That gets close.

from the aro autistic te'ijal character study i have been chipping away at for a few years now >:3c

🦈 Which character is the toughest to write?

tbh anyone not from aveyond, there's a reason i only write aveyond fic, but within aveyond / characters i actually write, Lars

to me the appeal of lars is entirely in a fic writer's spin on him and i really struggle into spinning him into something that feels like it lines up with canon while also making me like, excited to write him. i would infinitely rather read other people's lars fic than try to write my own

[vampirecatprince]

list 5 things that make you happy, then send this to the askbox of the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers! <3

I had fun with this, so I hope you have some fun too.

~@rokishimizu4

Oh- this looks fun!

I love music so much? It's probably obvious because I'm in several bandoms, but I just genuinely love all sorts of music. I listen to a frankly ludicrous range of stuff, from musical theatre to deathcore to city pop to whatever the hell genre the Silent Hill 2 OST falls into. I'm also a huge nerd about lyrics and music theory and another alter even does a little composing work as a little side hobby.

I know I said music, but.... I have to mention Ghost? It's been a special interest of mine since late 2018 and I've seen them twice and even managed barrier one of those times. It's such a comfort fandom for me and even when I find myself wandering musically, I'm still perusing Ao3 and headcanoning things about the Ghouls (I've been accidentally world building Ghoul culture oops) and thinking about them.

Also probably obvious, given that I recently fell back into a hyperfixation related to it, but I genuinely love horror. I have a pretty thick skin when it comes to horror, but I like the creeping uneasy feeling I get from it? I'm currently hyperfixating on slasher horror, but I'm also fond of cosmic, mascot, analog/digital, psychological, and splatter horror. (I think the only thing horror related that I don't like are zombies, and I couldn't even tell you why? I've even given Shawn of the Dead a very fair shot and I'm SO mixed on it?)

I! Love! Drawing! And making things! I'm in the middle of doing pre-production on a game as a lil side project (that I have to take regular breaks from bc of how stressful my day job is 😮‍💨) but I'm actually hoping to fix that and make it less of side project in the near future? But- I've always loved making stories and drawing and making things and I just... Wanna be one of those dudes who makes yet another quirky Earthbound-inspired RPG, and I mean that so lovingly??? I love the MOTHER series and early SMT a lot and that, plus my love of Ghost has definitely, very transparently shaped my game project about a group of semi-Goetic demons trying to start a rock band in Hell. 😅

Here's an obscure pull that you may have seen me share stuff for.... Or you've just known me that long, but I have such a huge fondness for the trifecta of Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals that is CATS + Starlight Express + Phantom of the Opera. I've saw Phantom and the CATS revival on Broadway before they closed too, even sat right under the chandelier. I've loved CATS since I was really little actually! I was obsessed with it in first grade and fell hard into the fandom in high school, which introduced me to Starlight Express via the old Belle's Domain forums. And Phantom was introduced to me when I was 8 during a road trip to Las Vegas with my mom and I fell into a rabbit hole in high school and read the book and the mediocre Kay novel and there's so much art from teen me of the Phantom... I wish I still had the same passion for them I used to sometimes...

[talesofesther]

all that love ever taught me - part 2

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie has loved you for a long while, and slowly, he's trying to show you just how much.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this high dose of cuteness.

Masterlist | Read Part 1 here

What Eddie lacked in courage, you had plenty in stubbornness.

After the pitiful ending to that rainy day, Eddie was starstruck to find you waiting for him on that same brick wall beside the school doors the next day;

He would recognize you from a mile away, leaning back on the wall, backpack laid between your feet, and a bright smile on your lips as soon as you saw him.

Eddie didn't know what to do with himself, his own skin suddenly felt hot and prickly, because you were walking up to him, arms open in an invitation so tempting yet so dangerous.

"Hey ange-" he couldn't finish, his words were muffled by your jacket because you trapped him in a hug, fingers disappearing in his hair as his own arms encircled your waist, carefully, as if you'd break in his hold.

The hug ended quickly and Eddie was partially glad for it, because he had stopped breathing the moment you were less than a meter away from him. His eyes were fixated on you, a soft frown on his eyebrows while he waited for the punchline, for the ulterior motive to your affection.

It never came, all you did was ramble on about; 'where were you, silly? I've been waiting for fifteen minutes, we're almost late for class'.

Eddie could feel his eyes stinging, tears that he desperately gulped back were pooling on the bottom lid of his eyes.

You were too good for him, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't make himself worthy of you.

_

That decision was made two weeks ago, and since then Eddie has hardly left your side. He'd carry your backpack around and give you a ride home even if it wasn't raining; he'd sit beside you in class and make you laugh whenever you had a bad day or were bored; he'd leave a little note on your locker almost every day, sometimes there wasn't even anything written on it, just a rough sketch of you through his eyes. And sometimes, when he was feeling brave, he'd take hold of your hand when walking around the school.

He didn't have the courage to put into words what he truly felt for you, but he could only hope his actions spoke for him.

Today, Eddie dragged his feet on the empty school hallways, he had a scowl on his face, pouting as a little kid would. His backpack dragged on the floor as he halfheartedly held one of the straps.

Most teachers are not fond of seeing a student using the lunchroom tables for a catwalk. Eddie was always careful to avoid the vultures. But when one's focused on making a certain special someone laugh, old and boring adults are bound to become a blur.

It earned him some scolding and a fat free pass to detention.

He opened the classroom door to find a few sorry souls almost sleeping on their seats and Mrs. Jones, the teacher responsible for keeping an eye on them; he also found you, right on the last row of chairs in the back of the class, frantically waving him over as if this was the cinema or something.

Eddie raised his hands in a 'what the hell' motion, a comically dumbfounded look on his face as he walked up to you after the teacher grumbled for him to take a damn seat and be quiet.

"Why the hell are you here?" He threw his backpack on top of your table and pulled a chair to sit next to you.

"What? You think I'm such a saint that I can't get detention once in a while?" You raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

Eddie snorted, he leaned his elbows on the table, trying to be subtle about wanting to be closer to you. "I just thought you were the textbook good girl type."

You bumped his shoulder with yours, "well, then you don't know me at all, Munson."

You were grinning all sweetly, hands resting on the table close to Eddie's, drawing him in as if there was a gravity field around you and he was nothing but a lonely moon. Just a flick of his fingers and he'd be touching you. "I want to," he said, voice laced with something quiet and timid, as if it was a forbidden fantasy of his, "why are you here?"

The question got you averting your gaze from his, smile faltering ever so slightly, "where's the fun in just telling you?"

"I'm terrible at guessing games, angel."

"Give me your best shot."

Eddie raised a hand to his hair, taking a few strands between his fingers and twirling as he hummed in thought. He could feel your eyes on him, piercing and unwavering.

"You talked back to a teacher?" Eddie tilted his head, chocolate brown orbs meeting your gaze. "Vandalized school property? Maybe… got caught smoking?"

You clicked your tongue, holding back a laugh at his suggestions; "tough luck."

Leaning back on his chair, Eddie lightly raised his hands in surrender; "well, I'm out."

"Afraid you'll remain curious then."

There was something off about the way you avoided telling him, Eddie could see it in the way your smile didn't reach your eyes or by the way your words took on that lower tone that had a shiver going down his back. "Come on, that's not fair."

Your hand landed on his forearm, squeezing softly, "a secret for a secret then, that fair enough for you?" You prompted with a new glint in your eyes.

Eddie chuckled, a shaky sound from the back of his throat. If you asked him to spill his darkest secrets, he would. It scared the hell out of him. He ducked his head, running his tongue over his bottom lip before he took his chance and reached for the hand you had on his arm. The touch was barely there, just his fingertips grazing yours.

"What do you wanna know, angel?"

And then Eddie heard it — because he just realized how goddamn close he was to you, shoulders brushing, noses just a few centimeters apart — the way your breathing grew shallow. He felt the way you tensed. The feeling came off of you in waves and made Eddie gulp, his eyes roaming your face as his stomach turned upside down.

"I've…" You started, and then took a breath, "I've been getting a few notes lately."

Eddie was pretty sure he was a few shades paler already.

"I always find them on my locker, and, I don't know, they make me think of you sometimes," you finished quietly with a shy smile, far away gaze in your eyes before you blinked and focused back on Eddie. "Do you know who sent them?" You asked as if you already knew the answer.

Eddie couldn't look at you, his hands started shaking and he abruptly pulled them away from you. "I uh- I don't…"

You held onto him, palm a bit smaller than his as you threaded your fingers together; "stop pulling away from me, Eddie. Please."

A low curse escaped Eddie's lips, he ran a thumb over your knuckles. His knee was going up and down, the heel of his boot thudding against the wooden floor of the classroom. "Yeah, it was me." He glanced up at you, all flushed cheeks and starry eyes. "Sorry if it… makes things weird."

Boldly as ever, the grasp you had in his hand tightened, and you brought it to your lips, planting a kiss on the back of his hand. "I look forward to them every day, you know?" Eddie felt your words on his skin, the brush of your lips taking his breath away and giving him goosebumps, "kept every single one," you finished.

Eddie turned into mush on your hold, boyish chuckle escaping him as he lowered his head to your shoulder, hiding from your eyes and curling his body toward you because he just about couldn't get enough of you. "Really?" He whispered.

You nodded, he could feel your cheek brushing his curls; "really."

With an everlasting smile, Eddie raised his head to look at you, his chest feeling all fluttery and light now that his secret was out and you liked it. "I think you owe me a secret," he hummed.

The way you dug your teeth into your lower lip caught Eddie's attention; got him thinking of an early night date and how the sweetness of a milkshake would taste on your lips.

"You know Claire? That one prissy girl from the cheer team?" You asked, voice low and just barely tuning into Eddie's ears.

"Nah," he breathed back, too drunk on you.

You stifled a chuckle, he heard it, loved the sound. "A teacher caught me dumping a cup of orange juice on her."

That had Eddie's eyes snapping to yours, his own wide open as he processed what you just said. "What- how did I miss that?"

"They had already dragged you out of the cafeteria for walking on the tables," you shrugged, then your hand held his just a tad tighter, "she was- was saying things about you… and they weren't nice."

"Oh angel," Eddie's expression deflated a little, his free hand tucking strands of hair behind your ear, "don't want you putting a target on your back 'cause of me."

"I don't care about it, Eddie," you shook your head, all fiery eyes and words buttered in some kind of affection that cut through Eddie's heart lovingly, "won't let them talk about you like that if I can do something about it."

Eddie snorted, love bringing an easy smile for him; "my own knight in shining armor."

"More like shitty armor, considering I've been caught."

Averting his eyes, Eddie watched the way your fingers traced the bumps and crannies of his rings and the scars on his fingertips. He leaned his forehead with yours, just for a second, just to know what it felt like to have you, and pulled back; "still more than what this cold heart is worthy of."

A shiver ran from Eddie's chest all the way to his toes when your warm palm came to rest on his shirt, just above the rapid thudding in his chest; "not cold," you said, and he knew you could feel the beating of it, for you, always for you.

Eddie was afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell, his gaze moved from your eyes and to your lips. The same hand you had on top of his heart, slowly traced its path up to his cheek and Eddie's breathing halted. Oh, no one ever held him like he was something precious before.

You leaned in to kiss his lips, all tender and soft, nose brushing his cheek. As if to say; you're worthy of love.

Eddie melted in your touch, his hands grasping your waist in desperation. He caught your lower lip between his own and-

"No making out in my classroom!" Mrs. Jones slapped her wooden table, hard, making both you and Eddie jump apart with a gasp and startling a few sleeping students.

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and a thumbs up. The scene had Eddie feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, he felt the crazy desire to take your hand and run away, find a tree to carve your names and a heart into, and promise to marry you in just a few years.

Raising a finger to your chin, Eddie turned you to him, and he saw it, right then and there; his happy ending gazing back at him with a goofy grin and looking as pretty as a picture. "Angel, will you go out with me?" He breathed, hope dripping from each syllable.

"Took you long enough, Munson"

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Find extra stories for this universe here, just search for the ones under the "all that love ever taught me" title.

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[heich0e]

Fluffy scenario with househusband toji where he greets you at the door after a long tiring day at work, excusing the fact that you were late because you sent him an influx of messages apologizing that you had to work overtime again, and when you go to apologize again in person he stops you and drags you to your shared bedroom jsut for you to see your nightwear ready and a sweet aroma coming from your bathroom indicating of a bubble bath with your favorite bath bomb already ready.

oh OHHHHHHHHHHHH ok u want me emo and horny i see how it is

Toji is rough with you even when his intentions are gentle--not because he doesn't care, but because he's never known anything different. He's unwriting everything he's ever thought to be true and replacing it with the kindness that you show to him. He's trying. He's learning.

For you.

So even if the way he drags you down the hallway to the shared bedroom in your little apartment is less than ceremonious, and is certainly not the 'hello' you'd been expecting after a gruelling workday, he's not hurting you in any way and you know he's doing it because he cares.

His hands are calloused and rough but they hold you like you're precious even as he's tugging you along behind him.

"What's this?" you ask quietly as you spot your pyjamas--a set you rarely wear because you find the lace around the edges a little itchy, and you always wake up with your chest half spilling out of the tank-top--resting at the end of the bed. They're folded neatly--something Toji had been getting very good at lately, one of his more sucessful domestic skills he's been working on since moving in.

You notice that the adjoining bathroom door is ajar, and you can smell the sweet notes of honeysuckle you recognize from your favourite bubble bath clinging to the humid air that curls out from behind it.

You look to Toji, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes anywhere but yours. His lips purse out in such a way that the scar along one side of his mouth looks even more pronounced in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Remember that thing you were tellin' me about the other day?" He scratches behind his ear, his eyes meeting yours only for a second before he's looking away again. "Self care or some shit?"

You could almost laugh. Maybe even cry if you thought too much about it. Instead, you close the distance between the two of you in a few staggering strides and crush yourself against the familiar warmth of his chest.

"Thank you," you mutter against him, melting as you feel his wide hands trace down the tense planes of your back.

"You've been working a lot lately. Coming home late," Toji mutters quietly, his hands still moving against you comfortingly. "That's not good for you, y'know."

"I know," you agree, pulling away to glance up at him. The tips of his ears have gone a bit pink--sentimentality still doesn't come easy to him, and you know he's uncomfortable with this outward expression of his affections even if he doesn't say it. "I'm sorry I've been so busy."

Toji clicks his tongue behind his teeth, feigning an air of indifference that you see through like the steam creeping out from your muggy bathroom. He's been missing you as much as you have been him.

You stand up on your tiptoes, resting your chin against his chest as you peer up at him. The angle is awkward but you favour it to the notion of pulling away.

"Is there a bath drawn in there for me?" you ask, batting your eyelashes sweetly.

He nods. "Used that weird little fizzy thing you like too."

You smile, swallowing down a fond laugh that threatens to bubble up like your bathwater in the other room.

"You wanna come in there with me?"

Toji smirks.

"Tub's kinda small for both of us," he reminds you, though truthfully you already knew that. "It's for you anyway."

You sigh a little, but nod, pressing a kiss to his chest just over his heart before you pull away.

"I'll be out soon," you say as you step towards the washroom. "Maybe we could watch a movie after?"

Toji nods, shooing you off when he sees the way you're hesitating. You oblige, scampering off towards the washroom before your bath goes cold.

"Oh, baby could you grab me a different pyjama top too? That one's not my favourite!" you say, pausing just on the other side of the threshold of the washroom as your fingers work to undo the buttons on the blouse you'd worn to work.

"No," Toji calls back from the other room, immediate and sure. "That bit is for me."

[cha-melodius]

45 + napoleon/ilya 👀

(Hello anon, you're the lucky first recipient of a fic based on the trope list: 45. You took a bullet for me. I chose this one first because I thought it was going to be short lmao, I am hopeless. You also get bonus tropes of hospital vigils and confessions of feelings while arguing. This ended up a bit on the angsty side, so I hope that's ok, and that you enjoy it!

This fic takes place early on in their relationship, only one mission past Istanbul, which I think is the earliest I've ever written a fic for them! The whole thing is below, but be warned it's about 2.5k.)

Hard to be Soft, Tough to be Tender

Read it on AO3

If you’re still alive, my regrets are few If my life is mine, what shouldn't I do? —"Help I'm Alive" by Metric

~~~

There’s a lot about this moment that Napoleon doesn’t see coming.

The bullets, for one, nor indeed the man shooting them, not until it’s too late anyway. But the thing that really catches him by surprise is the way Illya steps in front of him, turning his back on the shooter and enveloping him in a kind of desperate, protective hug. Napoleon can feel his body jolt as the bullets embed themselves in his back; the second jerk, as Illya’s hands clench around his shoulders, infinitely more devastating than the first. Illya slumps forward onto him, and Napoleon only just manages to keep them upright as he awkwardly spins them enough so that he can fire back. Their assailant crumples to the ground with a single shot, but Napoleon hardly notices, because his arms are full of a gasping, shuddering Russian.

Still holding him up, Napoleon gropes around his back until he finds the wet patches and pulls a hand away sticky with blood. One in the right shoulder, probably embedded in the blade, and the other a little lower, more concerning. Illya’s knees start to buckle, and it’s all Napoleon can do to keep him from dropping straight to the floor. He’s still clinging to Napoleon’s jacket when Napoleon kneels next to him, holding his upper body close to keep his back off the ground, but it is his eyes that will haunt Napoleon in the coming days. Impossibly wide with shock, and something else that Napoleon can’t place until later, because it has no business on Illya Kuryakin’s face.

~~~

The thing is, Illya doesn’t even like him.

It’s fine. Expected, even. It doesn’t bother him. Napoleon isn’t one of those people who needs everyone to like him. Certainly not. You don’t make friends in the spy game. At most, you make temporary allies, and he hadn’t been expecting anything more.

Ok, maybe it bothers him a little. It’s just, he’d thought they had a bit of a moment back in Rome. A definite thawing, after he’d returned the watch; which, sure, had been a calculated gambit, but that didn’t make his pleasure at seeing Illya’s gratitude any less genuine. They’d shared a drink, and Illya had hidden behind his sunglasses but had also smiled that tiny, careful smile that could almost be called fond, and Napoleon had felt something clench a little uncomfortably in his chest, which he’d promptly ignored.

Then Waverly had come and announced that they’d be staying together as a team, and that was the end of that. Apparently Illya’s forbearance for Napoleon didn’t stretch to having to continue working with him. Any ground gained had been lost in Istanbul, where Illya had been cold and distant, speaking to him only when necessary for the mission. Napoleon had attempted to recapture something of what had been lost—cooking the team dinner, trying to tempt Illya into chess games, even volunteering for the least desirable stakeouts to prove he wasn’t that terrible to work with—but it had all been for naught.

(He definitely hadn’t let himself contemplate why it was so important to him, why he wanted any kind of relationship with Illya Kuryakin in the first place. Better not to go digging for truths that should be left buried.)

Napoleon would have written it off as just him being upset about still having to work with partners, except, well, he clearly wasn’t so broken up about having to work with one partner. His affection for Gaby was obvious, as was hers for him. It wasn’t like they were demonstrative when he was around or anything—he’d never even seen them kiss—but they didn’t have to be. Illya was like a different person around her, and Napoleon pretended it didn’t sting. Most likely Illya resented him for intruding on what should have been a nice little honeymoon mission, which was probably fair, but it wasn’t Napoleon’s fault. Even Gaby had made an attempt, early on, to defrost things between them, though she’d given up pretty quickly. Napoleon suspected Illya asked her to stop, but he could never bring himself to ask. Eventually Napoleon had stopped trying, too. If Illya wanted things between them to be strictly professional and nothing more, that’s how they’d be.

So Napoleon doesn’t know how he got here: a little hospital in Valencia, Illya’s blood still embedded in the creases of his knuckles and around his fingernails even though he’s washed his hands multiple times, and a hollow ache in his chest that he doesn’t know what to do with. Illya doesn’t even like him, but he’d jumped in front of a bullet meant for him. Illya barely puts up with him, but Napoleon still can’t really breathe when he thinks about the possibility of losing him.

“I don’t get it,” he tells Gaby, staring at the tile of the waiting room floor, after they’ve sat in silence for too many hours while Illya’s been in surgery. “Why would he do it?”

Gaby doesn’t answer immediately, which makes him look up at her, and the expression on her face is not what he expected. She looks confused at his confusion. Which is entirely too many layers of confusion for him to deal with at the moment. “Are you serious?” she asks finally. “You really don’t know?”

“Of course I’m serious. He doesn’t even pretend to like me, Gaby. That’s not usually conducive to taking a bullet for someone.”

“Exactly,” she says, eyeing him dubiously. “I assumed you’d be better at reading people, but I suppose we all have our blind spots.”

Napoleon frowns at her. “What?”

“He cares about you, Solo, and it terrifies him.”

“That’s absurd,” he scoffs. Scared is not something that Illya Kuryakin gets. Fear is not—

In that moment he sees Illya in his arms after he’d been shot, staring up at him, fear written plainly on his face. Unmistakable, now that he thinks back on it. But everyone is afraid when they think they’re dying. It doesn’t mean anything.

“He keeps his distance because he thinks he shouldn’t,” Gaby says gently, “and because he thinks he can control it that way.” She snorts softly, clearly expressing her thoughts on that. Furrowing her brow, she adds, “I thought you knew.”

Napoleon doesn’t know what to say. It does, in fact, seem like something that Illya might do. Caring about someone is a messy business in this game, and usually not worth the risk. It’s not just that Illya is keeping his distance, though. He’s keeping it from Napoleon specifically.

“There’s a major flaw in your theory,” he counters.

“Which is?”

“He cares about you—much more than he cares about me, in fact—and that doesn’t stop him from showing it.”

“He doesn’t care about me more than he cares about you,” she says matter-of-factly. “And did it not occur to you that there might be reasons that he feels safer when it comes to me?” Then, before he can demand that she explain herself, she stands. “I need to go check in with Waverly. Come get me if he’s out of surgery before I get back.”

With that she leaves him sitting there, somehow far more confused than when they started this conversation.

~~~

“Cowboy,” Illya says, jolting him awake.

Napoleon shoots upward in the uncomfortable chair, immediately regretting it when a muscle in his neck seizes up. He gropes at the ache with a hiss, his eyes squeezed closed, and only realizes several moments later what had woken him. With a gasp, his eyes fly open to see Illya sitting up in the bed, staring at him with an expression that is slightly exasperated, like it’s not the first time he’s called for him.

“Peril! You’re awake!” Napoleon exclaims, probably with too much emotion showing on his face. Well, screw it. Right now, he doesn’t really care.

“Why are you sleeping here?” Illya asks, frowning in obvious disapproval. “You should be finishing the mission.”

“Mission’s over, for now at least,” Napoleon tells him as he sits back in the chair a little gingerly. “Waverly sent someone else to check out the facility and they’d cleared out after we found them.”

“Then there should be leads to follow. Still plenty to do. You are not needed here.”

Napoleon does not manage to hold back a flinch at that. So much for Gaby’s theory. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been hoping there might be something to it.

“Right, well. You know me, terrible spy,” he says, forcing a weak smirk he doesn’t feel in the slightest, not quite able to look at Illya in the eye and see whatever implacable expression is on his face. “I’ll just go find Gaby for you, shall I?”

Illya says nothing as he turns away, but Napoleon only gets a couple of steps before his frustration with the situation gets the better of him. He’s barely slept over the past few days and spent far too long thinking about his own feelings, which are riding way to close to the surface right now. Yeah, it hurts that Illya doesn’t want him around, almost indescribably badly, but he’s not leaving without a goddamned explanation.

“You know what? No,” he snaps, whirling on Illya, who physically recoils even though there are feet between them. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to jump in front of a fucking bullet and nearly die for me and then go back to acting like you can’t stand looking at me. Why? Why would you do that?”

“I— I don’t know,” Illya stammers, his eyes widening before his gaze falls to his lap. At least, Napoleon thinks viciously, he’s finally broken through the cool, unflappable shell that Illya has been wearing around him ever since Rome.

“You don’t know. Well, that’s just fantastic,” Napoleon huffs sarcastically, throwing his hands in the air.

Illya’s hands are fisted in the blankets at his side, knuckles whitening under the strain, and his next words are fraught. “Why are you here, Cowboy?”

“You wanna know why I’m here?” Napoleon asks, taking another step closer, though Illya still doesn’t look at him. “I’m here because you mean more to me than some stupid mission. I slept in that horrible fucking chair for three days because I couldn’t stand the idea of not being here when you woke up. Because I care about you, even though you hate me, and isn’t that just an absolute kick in the teeth?” he finishes with a bark of humorless laughter and turns on his heel to leave, because right now he just needs to go cool down somewhere. Anywhere that’s not here.

“I don’t hate you,” Illya murmurs just as he gets to the door, so quietly that Napoleon almost misses it.

Napoleon stops and forces himself to take a deep breath, but he doesn’t turn around. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”

“Cowboy,” Illya pleads, because really, there’s no other word for the weight of his voice. “Napoleon. Please. I— I can’t go after you.”

It’s the hint of wry, self-deprecating humor in the last bit that finally convinces Napoleon to turn around, but he’s still in no way prepared for what he finds. Illya looks wrecked, somehow indescribably small as he sits hunched over in the hospital bed. It’s just wrong, to see him like this. It’s as if all the fight has gone out of him, and it takes every ounce of Napoleon’s willpower not to rush over to him. He’s still not convinced it would be welcome, and he’s still pissed off, though he can feel his anger slipping away through his fingers like sand. Carefully, he walks back over to his bed and stands next to him, cautious and unsure.

“I do not regret saving you,” Illya tells him, staring up at him with an almost defiant jut of his jaw. “I would do it again.”

“But why?” Napoleon asks, his brow furrowed. “Why throw your life away for mine?”

Illya looks away, then, back down to his lap. “I jumped—” he starts, his voice thick, but then breaks off to swallow hard. “I jumped in front of bullets because I could do nothing else. Because your life— you are important to me, Napoleon.”

For a moment, Napoleon forgets how to breathe. Illya’s hand is only inches from his, lying on the bed, and he doesn’t really think before he reaches out to brush his fingers tentatively across it. Illya twitches, and Napoleon’s heart sinks because he’s sure he is going to pull away, but instead he catches Napoleon’s hand in his, almost equally tentatively. With his heart hammering against his ribs, Napoleon slowly lowers himself to sit on the edge of the mattress.

“Gaby said you’ve been pushing me away because you’re scared,” he ventures. He’s expecting a denial, but Illya says nothing. Instead, his hand tightens around Napoleon’s, as if admitting what he cannot put voice to. Napoleon takes a deep breath and confesses, “It scares me, too. Do you know how terrified I was that I was going to lose you?”

“It is dangerous, to care so much,” Illya murmurs, though it feels more like it’s being offered as an excuse than a rebuke.

“Is it? You obviously care for Gaby. What makes me so much more dangerous?”

Illya looks up at him, seemingly searching his face for something, though Napoleon doesn’t know what. Then, with the hand that’s not currently curled around Napoleon’s, he reaches up and twines his fingers into the front of Napoleon’s shirt. He doesn’t exactly pull with any force, but Napoleon goes anyway, tugged inexorably downward until Illya presses their lips together. It’s more of a question than a statement, and Napoleon answers the best he can, his lips moving gently against Illya’s until his grip looses and he pulls back a few scant inches.

“Oh,” Napoleon breathes. He stares into wide blue eyes and feels as if he might drown and somehow that he’s also being held afloat, all at once.

“Dangerous,” Illya murmurs. His hand unclenches from Napoleon’s shirt and he reaches up to cup the side of his face, swiping a thumb over his cheek.

“Well,” Napoleon says carefully, “yes. We live dangerous lives. But I’ve never been one to shy away from a little danger. You?”

A tiny smile tugs on one corner of Illya’s mouth. “Not anymore.”

[buckybarnesdiaries]

bucky barnes x reader. masterlist.

part 1 — part 2 (soon)

a / n. this is a series of 15 mini-drabbles to celebrate the 500 followers' milestone, based on one word for each story. this first part contains 8, and the next one contains 7. it was supposed to be posted one story per day, but by that way, it'd take me to last an eternity to post other works / requests.

words. 1.533.

warning, tags. none, just a bunch of fluffy and cute situations with bucky.

join my tag list.

necklace;

It was the first time since you started to date that Bucky had to leave for a mission. Neither of the two of you knew when he'd be back, and that got you worried than ever. You were conscious of what he did for a living when you met him, but you couldn't help but feel scared. Next to the front door of your apartment, Bucky left his backpack on the floor, leaning to cup your cheeks on his palms and kiss your lips tortuously slow.

“I'll be okay, (Y/N)”. He murmured keeping his eyes closed.

“You better”.

Your hidden threat made him giggle. The soldier felt goosebumps bristling his skin as your fingertips toured his neck blindly, just to put in place the chain of his necklace. But soon, Bucky stopped your moves to take it off from him and place his dog tags on you.

“I'll come back for them”. He promised, fixing his pale blue orbs on yours, holding your hands to bring them to his lips and place fond kisses on every knuckle of both. “I love you, don' forget it, okay?”

“I won't... How could I, Buck?”

eclipsed;

Bucky was sweating, still not believing he was about to get married to the love of his life. He was on the altar, waiting for you and surrounded by all of your friends in common. Steve had had to help him with a panic attack he had suffered while dressing up, thinking that maybe you could change your opinion at the last moment. He couldn't blame you. But all those doubts vanished at the second you crossed the huge, heavy doors of the church. Your beauty eclipsed him, wearing a white lace wedding dress and seeming like you floated over the floor. Just like an angel.

His heart jumped. His oceanic eyes got covered in tears. A giggle escaped his lips, stretching a hand towards you, still praying it's not a dream. And you noticed the tension and the nervousness running his veins, leaning forward to kiss his cheek with all the love you felt for your future husband.

“Can't wait to say yes”. You whispered into his ear, causing Bucky to lace his arms around you and embrace you tight and tenderly. “I love you, James, from now and forever”.

sunset;

After his most recent nightmare and walking all grumpy from one side of another around your house, you decided to cheer him up only like you can do. With reluctance, you managed to get him out of your apartment and drag him to your car. Bucky was like a child, cross-armed, lips puckered and frowning annoyed. He tried to hide the fact that he had another nightmare to not worry you, but you weren't stupid.

Thinking that glimpsing the beach throughout the large front window would make him feel happier, your boyfriend just reclined himself on the seat, causing you to roll your eyes. That mood changed as soon as Bucky was sitting on the sand, between your legs, tho. His back was resting against your chest and his neck was wrapped by one of your arms, watching fascinated the sunset on the horizon. He wouldn't recognize it, but he felt much better hearing the waves crashing into the shore, while you stroked his scalp tenderly using the tip of your nails.

“You're welcome, grumpy mummy”.

clingy;

You didn't want to drink, but Sam and Sarah wanted to celebrate that the family business was picking up. On another occasion, you wouldn't mind, but Bucky was there. So, when everything started to spin around, you lead your clumsy steps to the edge of the harbor, having a sit there and let the soft breeze help you.

“Stop”. You heard from behind.

“Uh?”

“You're stealing my antisocial personality”. Bucky chuckled, taking a seat by your side. “What's up? Why are you here all alone?”

“Truth or lie?” You asked tilting your head towards him, raising both eyebrows.

“Truth”. He scoffed as if it wasn't obvious.

“I'm too clingy when I'm drunk”.

“Can't see the problem there”.

You chuckled, shaking your head inevitably, causing him to pucker his lips with a funny grimace.

“What?”

“Tru—”.

“Truth”.

“I've been all night wanting to rub your beard”.

Bucky exploded in loud laughter, not believing your words until you put your hands on his jawline. “God... It's so soft”.

His laughs increased, causing you to burn in shame. “No more drinks for you, ma'am...”

But the fact was that he turned to you, so it could be easy to caress his face.

safe;

Bucky was deadly tired on the sofa, warmly cuddled between your arms. A while ago, he stopped to pay attention to the movie, turning his back to the TV to hide his exhausted expression on your chest. You placed the cozy blanket over your bodies, making sure it covered both of you, being aware that tonight you'd sleep there. You felt sorry just at the thought of waking him up, seeing him peacefully breathing and his face more relaxed than the last few days.

Shutting off the TV and stretching an arm above your head, you turned off the small lamp on the auxiliary table close to the sofa, before getting comfier by Bucky's side. Your boyfriend purred delighted, still sleepy, as your fingers got tangled on his hair and started to scratch his scalp slowly, urging you somehow to place a leg over his waist, so he could settle between both a little more closely.

“Feel better?”

“I feel safe”. He replied in a low breath, to exhale the sweet scent concentrated on your neck.

“You're safe, James. You're at home”. Your calmed tone made him sigh, snuggling you strongly.

stay;

You snapped awake because of some knocks on the front door. Tossing the sheets to a side of the bed, you grabbed the gun under your pillow. It was stupidity. If somebody wanted to kill you, that would be the last thing they'd do: knock the door. You walked slowly, step by step, through the main hallway aiming to the door, more than ready to shoot your assailant.

“It's... Bucky”. You heard from the other side.

Sighing in relief and closing your eyes for a split second, you left the weapon on the dinner table in the living room. Not doubting on opening the door, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when you noticed the reddened mark around his left eye and cheek.

“Can I, uh... stay tonight with you?” Bucky inquired, licking his upper lip ashamed, bowing his eyes down to his boots covered in dust.

“C'mon, Sergeant”. You invited him to walk in, using such a sweet tone, while holding his cold hand.

He looked like shit but felt much better when his arms got wrapped around your waist and middle-back, hiding his face into your neck. Kicking the door shut, you embraced him tighter to your body.

notebook;

You were lying on the opposite side to Bucky on the sofa, but keeping your legs tangled. It was a rainy evening with nothing to do and you decided to start to read the book you bought last week. Your boyfriend was silently doing something in a notebook. Maybe writing memories, maybe doodling, you didn't know. But the third time you caught him staring at you, you had to ask.

“What?”

“Uh... nothing”. He whispered focused on the paper in front of his eyes.

“Whaaat?” You kicked his right leg with your bare foot causing him to chuckle.

“Nothing!” Bucky replied using the same playfully tone of voice.

Putting the book on the coffee table, you sat up to lie on top of him, cuddling between his legs and resting your head on his chest. Glancing to the sketch of yourself he was drawing, you raised your heart-eyes to his. It was such a piece of art. The drawing and Bucky. Both.

“I learned in Romania. It kept me sane sometimes”. He confessed, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. “I want to remember you forever”.

marshmallow;

“Truth or dare?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, leaning on the table just like you did, challenging him. He was trying to read your mind to figure out which were your intentions.

“Dare”. He answered firmly.

“Put twenty marshmallows in your mouth”.

The soldier stared at you in silence, watching him lick his inner cheek and push it with the tip of his tongue. He nodded his head then, grabbing the plastic bag without losing eye contact, to start to place —one by one— the sweets into his mouth. In less than thirty seconds, he looked like a squirrel with his cheek swollen. Bucky squinted at you again, triumphant.

“Hold on, I need to capture this moment”. You laughed, catching your phone to take a picture.

When the flash went off, he spitted a marshmallow like a shotgun. And you couldn't help but laugh.

“C'mon, Bu—”.

You didn't finish the sentence, being hit by another marshmallow slightly wet because of his saliva. Your grimace turned into a funny disgust, grabbing it back to throw it to his face.

“You're like a five years old in a body fos— STOP!” You ended up giggling as he spitted you the third one.

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[oddsnendsfanfics]

Unraveling in the Sheets

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, NSFW

Rating: M

Length: Short Story

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Spoiler Alert, there is smut. Be warned. It's there.

Also, I am no longer doing tags on posts. Since my list exceeds the tag limit. Please feel free to join the chat in place of the tag list.

Henry Cavill Master List

“How did you do it though?” Gliding the car into a free parking space, Henry glanced at Nell in the passenger's seat.

“How did I do what?” Eyeing him curiously, she tried to hide her gloating smile. She could be a terrible winner, even if she wasn't the winner, she had came ahead of Henry.

“You know what I mean, Nelly.”

He looked so silly, his new mustache curling when he laughed or smiled. Nell had to admit, if any man could wear the 'stache Henry did it well.

“Oh, you mean how did I suddenly leave your ass behind and finish nearly 50 positions ahead?” She laughed, crinkling her nose. “I told you, I've been working hard for this. Besides, you're too big. You move slower than I do. It's that simple. Maybe next year, you will finish ahead of me.”

“You're impossible.” Unbuckling his seat belt, Henry hurried to get out of the car and around to the other side, before Nell could open her own door. Nearly there, he frowned when she opened the door, stepping out of the Aston Martin. “You were supposed to let me open that.”

“I am supposed to do a lot of things that I do not.” Nell grabbed her hand bag. “I'll let you open the door, next time. You big dork.”

Henry was always the gentleman, even when Nell would rather rip his eyes out than speak to him in a civil manner. Not that she ever felt the former much, but on the rare occasion. Sometimes that's how things went for ex-lovers. The mid May air was growing cool, leaving a few goosebumps on Nell's exposed arms. She had expected to be back before now, which is why she'd left her sweater in the hotel.

“Well, happy late birthday. It was nice having dinner with your family. I've missed them.”

“They've missed you, too. I could tell that dad was happy you came along. He hasn't talked that much during a dinner since the last time you came over.” Henry smiled fondly. "I'm glad that you came, Nelly." Hands in his pockets, Henry sauntered along beside Nell. Approaching the main entrance, he held the door allowing her to enter. 

When he'd invited her for the weekend, he wasn't confident that she would come. Wrapped up in work, Nell didn't take too much time away from Dublin these days.

"It was a nice break from work." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, Nell bit her bottom lip. "I know that you are busy, but do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"I always have time to talk with you." Scanning the hotel lobby, Henry tried to find a spot for them to sit and chat privately. "Should we have a seat at the bar?"

"We could, but I would really like to change. Do you mind coming up with me? We can just talk in the room. It's probably more comfortable anyway."

"Is this about the wild boy?"

"Isn't it always?" 

Laughing, Henry pushed the call button for the elevator. Their son was truly something else. One day he would surely take over the world; Henry could see that coming from the day he was born.  To say Ivan was Henry's pride and joy would be a massive understatement. He lived for their son. This weekend having Ivan, and Nell, in Jersey had been fantastic. A short glimpse of what life could have been. The ding of the elevator brought Henry back from his brief fantasy.

He and Nell had split up several years ago, there wasn't much chance she would feel the same as he did. Lost in the thoughts of happy little family. Allowing Nell to step onto the elevator first, Henry stood silently with his hands clasped in front of him.

“So, Ivan has been doing well in school?” He may as well get this under way.

“Define doing well,” Nell snickered. “I get a call nearly every day from his teacher. The woman is impossible, but knowing our son, he isn't making it easy for her.”

“I was like that in school. Right up until the day I left.” Henry shrugged. The elevator gently bumping to a stop, he stepped forward to hold the door for Nell.

Muttering a thank you, Nell dug for her key card, leading the way down the hall. She loved this hotel, it was the only one she stayed in, if she could help it, while visiting the Island. A great view of the water on one side, the other dazzling with a fantastic look out into the city. The first time she'd ever been to Jersey, she had stayed in the hotel and fell in love with the charm. There were days when that felt like a life time ago.

Opening the door, Nell paused to allow Henry in. “Have a seat. Anywhere you'd like. Sorry it's kind of a mess. I'm going to change.”

The hotel room was anything but a mess, minus the few sketch books that Nell had dropped on the bed. Always working. Henry took a seat on the edge of the king sized bed, casually glancing at the colour coded notes and designs that Nell had in one of the open sketch books. Costumes. A few notes detailed leather armor and Viking era clothing. She'd done well for herself, since he'd met her. The same shy costume apprentice hiding out on set of The Tudors, was now helping drive forward the details of Vikings.

In the bathroom, Nell pulled off her dress. The fabric had became clingy after a while and she needed to be more relaxed. Running shorts and a tshirt would do the trick. Sighing at her reflection, she bit her bottom lip glancing down at her top. The worn coral Nike tshirt was her favourite, it was showing the love and wear in a few spots. Perhaps she should have picked something less frumpy? She was a busy, single mom she didn't have to look the part. Ah fuck, who cared. Henry certainly wouldn't.

He was here to discuss their son, not flirt with her until she gave in to that smile. Or got lost in his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes – the left with the flecks of brown. His charm alone was enough to make anyone weak in the knees. Damn it, she needed to get over it. He had moved on. She needed to do the same.

Blowing out a breath, Nell reached for the door, pausing when she heard Henry talking. His tone told her that he was speaking to Ivan. Quietly slipping out of the bathroom, she smiled.

“Hold on, just a sec.” He pushed the screen of his phone, allowing the speaker to connect. “Alright, wild boy. Say goodnight to your mum.”

“Mum, momma, mum.” Ivan's voice filled the room. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ivan. Are you being a good boy?”

“Uh huh. I love you. Good night.”

“Good night, wild boy. I love you.”

“Night dad.”

“Good night, I love you. I'm going to be back soon, you go to bed and I will see you first thing in the morning.”

“Okay. Oh, dad, can Kal sleep in my room tonight?” Ivan was fond of the large black and white American Akita. Henry laughed.

“Of course he can. You and Kal go to bed, now.”

“Okay, bye.” A little too quickly, Ivan hung up the phone. Henry laughed at the eagerness, he would talk to his mother when he got back to the house. Making sure that Ivan and his dog had gone to bed as they were told, with no fuss.

"Can you believe he is growing this fast? My god where has that time gone?" Henry rubbed his hands against his face. His mustache and subtle stubble scratching his palms. 

"Time is a cruel mistress." Rubbing her hands on her shorts, Nell stood. "Drink? I have a bottle of Johnnie Walker." 

"Of course you do." Smirking, Henry shifted on the side of the bed. “I had a look at some of these designs, by the way. They're magnificent. My god, Nell, you are so talented.”

“You're saying that to be nice,”

Shaking his head, Henry accepted the glass, resting it on his knee. “No, I am saying it because its true. You are one of the most talented costumers that I had ever met. Are you enjoying the job?”

“I love it.” Nell smiled, leaning against the large wooden desk in the corner. “The work is great, the people are amazing, and Ivan is really enjoying it. I'm glad we went.”

“Good, that's good. He talks about it, a lot. He really seems to love being there. I'm glad. Once things settle, I am going to try and come visit. I kind of miss it, Dublin.”

“You should.” She smiled fighting the urge to scoff and roll her eyes. Henry was always busy. He'd make it to Dublin, when Hell froze over. “So, how is work coming on this new character.”

“I can't say much, but I can say that I will be happy when I can shave.” He rubbed the mustache expertly. “It's not as bad as some of the beards that I've had to grow, but it's not my favourite look.”

“You look good with a beard. I know you hate them, but you do.”

Leaning forward to set his glass on the bedside table, Henry licked the whiskey off of his lips. “I'm glad to have that compliment.”

“Sure.” Nell nodded, tipping her glass to finish the drink. “Another?”

“Uh, I'm good.” Henry motioned to his glass. Rubbing his hands across his jeans, he furrowed his brow. “I've been thinking, since I am fairly busy the next few months, what if I keep Ivan for a few extra days? Once you leave, I will take him back to London with me, until I have to go.”

Shifting on the bed, her face warm from the second glass of whiskey, Nell sniffled and cleared her throat. “What about school?”

“What about it? He isn't going to miss much, is he? They're nearly finished up and I don't know how long it will be, until I see him. Possibly not until Christmas.”

All he wanted was to spend a little time with his son, was that so hard? His next move would have to be calculated, Nell had been known to stat arguments over less. If Henry wanted to avoid a shouting match, he would have to go about this carefully. Reaching for his glass, he downed the remaining contents in one large gulp. Sighing.

“I want to hang out with him a little. It wouldn't be more than three days extra. Then you get some time alone, as well. Nell, I know that you need a bit of a break. You work so hard and take care of Ivan, please.”

“If you want to, then I suppose I can't really say no. What kind of mother would I be, if I didn't let you see him?”

“Don't say things like that, please.” Henry reached out, his hand taking hers. Gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “You are a wonderful mum. You know that.”

“Sometimes, I feel like I could do better. I really do.” Nell shrugged, allowing Henry to continue holding her hand.

“All parents feel that way, I am sure. I know that I feel like that, all the time. I guess it's natural, always wanting to do better, to be better, for our children.”

There he went again. There were times when Nell could not stand to be near him, other times she wanted to be as close as possible. Damn it. Watching him talk about Ivan and the few extras days they would be together, Henry's eyes lit up. His smile broad and the enthusiasm in his voice was one that dictated proud father. Nell nodded, only because she felt it was appropriate to the conversation.

Henry continued to chatter about how he wanted to take Ivan to a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum, in London. Leave it to the father and son, finding a day at the museum to be high on the list of fun. Nell sighed, continuing to half listen, half gaze at Henry in awe. One thing she loved – well love could be a strong word – adored? Enjoyed? About Henry was how much he loved Ivan.

Mid sentence about some Sir David Attenborough documentary that he'd watched with Ivan; Nell couldn't help it any longer. Leaning in, without warning, she grabbed Henry's face turning it to her and kissing him. Lips connecting, she stopped and jumped back as if hit by an electric shock.

Clearing his throat, Henry rubbed the back of his neck, but not pulling back. “I didn't know that the National Geographic was that exciting.”

“I'm sorry.” Hiding her face in her hands, Nell shook her head. Oh that had been a mistake. She had absolutely no right. None. Henry was crazy, if he didn't get up right now and walk out. If he was angry, then she deserved that.

Blushing, Nell shook her head. “Henry, I shouldn't have.”

“I'm certainly not going to complain.” He shrugged, leaning in his arm sliding around her shoulder. Nell glanced up, getting the nerves to look at him. Oh she had fucked up. “Next time, I would like some warning though.”

“Warning? Next time?”

“Hmm, yes. Kind of like this, close your eyes.” Henry instructed pulling her closer and kissing her. Nell sighed her body melting against him. She loved the way his lips felt on hers. Soft, with a slight force.

Straddling his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, Nell's fingers laced together. Her lips leaving his, tracing along his jaw, nearing the sweet spot below his ear. A slight nip and he was an unraveling mess. Henry nuzzled his face into her hair, she smelled amazing. Comforting and warm. A groan erupted from deep in his throat, as predicted she had gone straight for that spot.

“Nell, Nell,” Henry cleared his throat, holding her at arm's length, “Janelle, stop.” Looking for any sort of sign that she truly felt that this wasn't a good idea, he sucked in a breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if we continue, I won't stop until...”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, “I don't want you to stop. I don't want to stop. Oh god, Henry. Please.”

“I need to know that you truly, absolutely want to do this.”

“If you don't stop talking and bend me over, I am going to kick you out and do this myself. Please, stop talking. If I didn't want this, I wouldn't have started it.”

A deep rumbling laugh followed, Henry rolled his eyes. God, she was something else. Who was he to deny a gorgeous woman what she wanted? Would this come back to haunt him? Probably. Did he care? Not much. Come morning they would once again go their separate ways, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, he could pretend that he had everything he wanted. And what he wanted was her.

Pulling her to him, Henry kissed her hard. Nell moaned, the force of the kiss was nearly dizzying. Arms around his neck, she rubbed her body against his, trying to grasp the friction that was created when she started to grind herself against his thighs.

“Henry,”

“Hold on, you need patience.” He brushed a bit of hair out of her face, “all in good time.”

Nell squealed when he stood, her legs desperately scrambling to hold onto him. In a futile attempt she huffed, when he let her go, standing in front of him pouting. Unbuttoning his shirt, Henry smirked giving her a heated stare. “Well, are you going to get on the bed or make me do all the work? Shorts off.”

Sliding the mesh shorts down her ass and along her legs, Nell made a bit of a show letting them pool at her feet. Stepping out, as slowly as possible, while lifting the old tshirt from her body. Allowing it to go where it would, as she dropped it. Sitting back on the bed, she could feel her heart in her throat and her stomach where her heart should be.

“Lie back.” Henry instructed, kneeling at the edge of the bed. Arms around her thighs, guiding her to him, he studied her for a moment. She was trembling as his fingers slid across her thighs, positioning her in just the right way.

“Oh god, Hen-Henry.” Nell's mouth was suddenly dry and her voice hoarse. His hot breath between her legs was tormenting her, in unimaginable ways. In anticipation she bucked her hips forward, trying to clench her thighs. Holding her knees with his shoulders, Henry chuckled.

“Eager.”

“Please.”

“You are...” He lingered, kissing the inside of her leg. “Gorgeous. Look at you.” He brushed his thumb against her. Nell whimpered trying to push further. “Hold on, hold on.”

“Why are you teasing me?”

“Because I want to enjoy the view, for a moment.” He shrugged, her legs lifting gently. A hand on her lower abdomen, as if holding her in place, he used the other to gently tease and trace along her calf. Without warning, his lips attached to the most sensitive part of her body with his mustache adding an extra sensation, Nell bucked her hips hard, shoving his face further between her thighs.

Nell's head was swimming, it had been a while since she'd felt this good from such an act. Sure, she'd had the odd date here and there, semi-serious relationships, but nobody could do this the way Henry could. He was a fucking magician, she was certain of it. Humming against her mound, Henry couldn't hide the laughter in his eyes, when she began to squirm and wiggle against his face. She was desperate and he was going to prolong this as much as he could.

Sucking her clit, his tongue generously lapping at her, he thoroughly enjoyed the show. Pushing his head as far down as she could, Nell was nearly in tears each time he leaned in, his mustache tickling in just the right way. Oh god, she gasped trying hard to find release. Henry was cunning, backing off at the right moments.

“Henry,” She whined, threading her fingers through his hair. “Don't tease me, I really need you to finish.”

“Stop being so impatient.” He was teasingly stern. Pushing her hands away, he locked his fingers with hers, holding them at her side. Lifting his head, he smirked, kissing up her body ending with another dizzying kiss. Nell sucked on his tongue, freeing her hands from his, she tugged him closer, pulling at fistfuls of hair.

Cleaning herself from his tongue and lips, she sighed. “I'm going to need more than that.”

“You're sure?” Henry paused, holding his weight on his forearms, resting above her. His jeans still on, he could feel the strain against the denim.

“Jeans, off.” She demanded, sitting up to watch. Shivering against the slight chill, her breasts on display giving him the perfect view of her erect nipples. Nell blushed under his gaze. She was not the tight, toned, and perky body she once was. She wasn't out of shape, by any means, but compared to Henry...

“You are gorgeous.” Henry complimented, his jeans on the floor, boxers being pushed down to join them. Stepping out of his pants, he stood at the side of the bed, in all his glory.

Nell licked her lips, reaching out to take him in her hand. Hissing under her touch, Henry involuntarily bucked his hips forward into her hand. Rubbing the head, Nell intently watched Henry while she leaned in taking him fully in her mouth.

“Fuck, Nelly.”

“Hmm,” She hummed, sliding her head back along his length. Hand wrapped around him, stroking in place of her mouth. Bobbing her head back down, she swirled her tongue around the base. He nearly choked her the first time she'd ever gone down on him. Oh how long ago that felt.

Dragging her tongue against his length, she felt her core tighten, with each moan Henry gave. His slight salty taste mixed with the aftertaste of the Johnnie Walker, Nell inhaled deeply through her nose, hollowing her cheeks around him. Gripping the back of her head, Henry tried to not force her too hard, as he began to guide her movement.

Happy to go along with what he needed to feel good, Nell allowed him control over her guidance. Her finger nails grazing the back of his thighs, she mentally checked the small victory when he threw his hips forward at the sensation of her wrapped around him and her nails on his skin.

“Good girl,” Henry mumbled, his head lulling back, his chest rising rapidly. “Keep it up, just like that. Oh shit,”

Nell's chest swelled a little, she could still make him feel good, even after all of this time apart. That was not something she would take lightly, even if this shouldn't be happening. Oh fuck, who cared? They were two consenting adults. Henry's legs quivered, his hands unsteady stroking the back of her head.

“Nell,”

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him. His face soft and his jaw slack, she could feel him tightening. The perfect time to stop her actions. “Not yet,” She smirked, wiping her hand across her chin, drool gone. “Fair is fair.”

“Jesus,” Henry grumbled. He had been so fucking close, the knot in the pit of his stomach clenched Slowing his breathing, he took a moment to think of anything else. Laundry? Running? How much longer until he had to renew his passport?

“Henry?”

“Yeah?” He snapped his head to look at Nell.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or...” She shrugged, a devious smirk on her face. Laying back on the bed, she curled her finger beckoning him to her.

“You're still sure about this?” Henry asked. His eyes on her, waiting to see if she had any hint of doubt or hesitation.

“I don't have a condom, but I'm clean. It's not like I'm getting pregnant, so....” If she were to get pregnant, there was going to be on hell of a hefty lawsuit against that surgeon.

“You're sure? I know that I'm...but I don't have.”

“if you don't want to, then I understand.”

“I do, though, but...”

Nell shook her head. “No buts. If you want me, then I'm yours.”

“Fuck, you're making this hard.”

Giggling, Nell glance down. “I think we're beyond things being hard.”

His body betraying him, Henry cleared his throat, she certainly had a point. Fuck it. What did they have to lose? Unless this, some how, came back to bite them. No, no he had to stop that. Give in, enjoy what was happening. It had been too long since he'd been able to watch her in such bliss. Bliss that he was responsible for.

“You're sure?”

Nell nodded siting up, opening her arms, “Come here.”

On the edge of the bed, Henry sighed, his large frame leaning into her. Nell held him for a moment, stroking his hair, the feel of his warmth against her sent shivers through her spine. Pushing him back on the bed, she bit her bottom lip, waiting for the go ahead. Henry gave her a slight nod, adjusting himself on the bed to get comfortable. Straddling his hips, Nell lifted herself to slowly take him.

Sheathing him inch by inch, Nell groaned at the fullness. This was her favourite part, taking him to the end, feeling him stretch her. Rocking her hips forward, she countered the motion sliding them back in the same tantalizing pace. Henry held her hips, pushing his up to meet her. Nell squeaked and giggled. She loved the way he hit all the right spots.

“You can touch me, don't be shy.” Nell winked, lifting her arms and crossing them above her head, allowing him a full view of her breasts. “Go on.” She encouraged.

His large hands cupping her breasts, Henry softly rolled her hardening nipples between his fingers, giving on a slight flick when she moved herself up on his length. Close to letting him slide out, she moved back down, her ass grinding against him.

The way her body moved against his was mesmerizing. Massaging her supple skin, from her breasts down her sides, one hand settling on her ass and the other on her hip. Henry loved the shape, even if she had changed a little since having Ivan. God she was stunning.

Hastening her pace, Nell rocked back and forth, up and down. Henry closed his eyes feeling every bit of movement, each clench. Taking in the sounds of her breathing, mixed with his, her small moans not going unnoticed.

“Henry,” She whispered, biting her bottom lip, leaning forward to touch her lips against his. “Please,”

Without having to be asked twice, he moved swiftly, turning them over to pin her beneath him. Nell sighed and stretched her arms over her head, the pull of her muscles caused another shiver. Her head now against the pillow, she reached, tracing the lines of his face with her fingertip.

“I don't know that I can be as slow as you were.” Henry nipped her finger. Holding back on his desire to pound her into the bed.

“Then don't.” Nell batted her eye lashes at him.

Somehow that was all he needed, that tiny bit of permission. Picking up the pace, Henry grunted. Nell moaned drawing her knees upward, allowing him an even better vantage to this position. As if the pent up emotions from the last few years, hours, minutes had been released the couple were lost in the sensation of skin on skin. The feeling of sparks and electricity coursing through them. Connecting them.

“Fuck, Janelle.” Henry hissed, his arm locked into position on either side of her head, keeping him from tumbling on top of her.

“Henry,” She squealed splaying her hands against his chest, tugging at the soft hairs. “Oh god. Please, don't stop. My god, oh fuck.”

“You are fucking amazing. Fuck, look at you.” Kissing her roughly, he sighed, steadying his pace. His hips slapping hers, Nell shook slightly her soft sobs of pleasure were enough to send him to an end.

Shaking with pleasure, Nell gasped trying to bring herself down from the high. Henry moaned, his head back and chest heaving. It had been a while since he had felt that good. Nell laid with her legs hooked around his thighs, no desire to move. Collapsing with his head on her chest, Henry allowed his body to rest. Sweaty and sticky, they laid tangled together. Neither one wanting to break the feeling.

Dosing in and out, Nell was the first to move. Her body growing heavy with Henry still on top of her. She needed to move, before seizing up. Pushing his head to the side, she giggled and kissed the tip of her nose when he lazily looked up.

“I need to pee,”

“Hmph.” Henry nodded, slowly rolling over. Allowing her to escape. Laying flat on the bed, while she scurried off to the bathroom, Henry pushed himself up off of the bed. He should be getting back to his parents, back to Ivan.

All thoughts of moving were squashed, when Nell came back, climbing in beside him. Her clothes still on the floor. Her body was comforting against his. “Hi,” she whispered, sliding in under his arm.

“Nell?” Henry laid with his arm around her shoulder.

“Huh?” Nell grunted, her face buried in his chest.

“I should head back.”

“If you want to. You can stay, I don't mind.” Nell yawned. Her eyes closing.

“Okay, but only for a little while.” Henry agreed, closing his eyes. In a few minutes, he would get up, shower, and head back.

With a start, Henry woke, a loud banging noise rattling him. Looking around the dark room, he squinted to find the source of the noise. Hearing someone whispering at a distance, Henry laid in bed, listening. Against him, Nell stirred, but didn't wake. Someone in the hall was talking, no doubt they had been the source of the banging. He had fell asleep, Nell wrapped against him.

Looking at his watch, Henry frowned. 4am. If he left right now, he could be back before anybody woke. If he left now, he risked Kal barking and waking the house. If he waited, he would risk walking in and having to explain himself to one or more person. Of course he could tell them that he'd ran into some old friends, had some drinks and stayed on a sofa somewhere. Too drunk to drive.

Shifting in bed, Nell sighed, her arm around his waist she snuggled in closer. She was content, who was Henry to try and disturb her sleep? He would wait an hour or two, before he made his departure. So what if he waltzed in, being faced by one of his brothers, or even his mother. He was an adult, if he wanted to stay out all night enjoying the company of a fantastic woman, then he would do just that.

Kissing the top of Nell's head, Henry smiled, sinking down further into the covers, closing his eyes.

Tag List Chat

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt.10)

WOW we did it folks. 10 parts to an essay that we're like. a quarter of the way done with. That's pretty great! More or less, by the time you finish reading this post, you'll have read 35k words worth of analysis and I'll have spent countless hours writing it. What amazing dedication we have to this manga! We should get an anime reboot as a reward!

Anyway, let's go crazy stupid trying to wrap up this arc, where we can see the extent of Natsume's selflessness. As we approach the end, something will happen to make Natsume's plans to distance himself from Mikan very difficult. Let us begin!

Also I've been forgetting to put trigger warnings up for these but I put them on the first few so hopefully you know they're all like that. Child abuse is a huge topic we'll cover throughout, as well as all the consequences that come with it, so be wary.

Chapter Forty-One

Medusa--Mihara-san--is amused to see that the frightening, powerful, and awe-inspiring “Black Cat”, who demonstrates a trained command of his alice despite wearing an alice-restraining mask on missions, is actually just a little kid.

Natsume doesn’t care about being impressive; he cuts to the chase, asking where Mikan is. Medusa makes his comments, but Natsume stays on his point: his new mission is to save Mikan, after all. Though keeping Mikan and Ruka safe had been his personal mission from the get-go. But just as Natsume isn’t interested in anything Medusa has to say if it isn’t about Mikan, Medusa isn’t interested in any topic that is about Mikan. So the small talk ends and Shiki is commanded to test the kids’ abilities.

Natsume cares about one thing right now and it isn't his DA alias.

They are in the midst of some kind of battle or standoff when Mikan reappears, safe. She calls out to them, excited to see them again. Ruka and Tsubasa are happy to see her safe as well, so they call out too. Natsume is not as thrilled. He’s good at staying on mission and keeping his attention on the dangers around him, like Shiki and Medusa, as well as the countless other Z members, all with mystery alices.

Mikan suddenly appearing and making herself known is dangerous, and she’s immediately under attack, unwittingly. He runs to protect her, using his alice as a barrier between them and the man who just tried to hurt her, but when he turns back to look at Mikan, he’s livid.

The art in this scene is so gorgeous, I could stare it forever. Look at how silky Natsume's hair is. Pretty.

Tsubasa and Ruka have never been on a mission like this. They were just eager to see Mikan unharmed. She was also just excited to see her friends again after being separated. But Natsume knows better. On a mission, you have to stay vigilant and always careful, and Mikan was careless. He yells at her, scolding her. But even through his emotions, he stays vigilant, protecting her even more when the enemy tries to take advantage of the distraction.

This is what he came for, not just to be the brains and keep them on track throughout the journey, but also to protect them, because that’s what he always does, what his priority always is. He will use his alice to ward off enemy attacks, and use his body as a shield, even if he winds up exhausted and bleeding and hurt. And he is.

But he still tells Mikan to stay behind him, to stay safe, so he can properly protect her this time, because he couldn’t do it before.

He doesn’t expect Mikan to get up and tell him that he doesn’t have to worry. She doesn’t want or need him to protect her; instead she wants to help him. She tells him, for once, that he doesn’t have to be the only one hurt anymore. He’s understandably surprised to hear this, because it means that someone other than Ruka has been paying attention. She understands that he’s been through the wringer, and she doesn’t want to just sit back and benefit from his effort without giving anything back. But more than just saying she’ll take on the brunt of things for him, she wants to help. She wants to be his strength, not a burden on him.

She has been noticing him, even the things he doesn't want her to notice.

This shocks him enough that it actually distracts him from his vigilance, and suddenly it appears that Ruka is in danger. He leaves her side just long enough for her to be captured by Shiki instead, and immediately teleported to Medusa’s side. They needed to get Mikan out of the way, after all, so that Medusa could use his alice, which he immediately uses to petrify Tsubasa’s leg.

Chapter Forty-Two

Right off the bat, we’re shown just how much the stakes have risen. Medusa’s alice is deadly, not just dangerous, and he’s already managed to hit Tsubasa with it. His next command is to have Yuka steal the kids’ alices, and to start with Natsume. It would make things easier on him, anyway, Medusa says, obviously privy to the idea that a child like Natsume wouldn’t want to be a child soldier at all, unlike Reo who mused that maybe Natsume would be more content with just a change of employer.

But Yuka makes it clear that her alice isn’t strong enough to steal all of the alices at once, trying to spare the kids from losing their abilities. So Medusa then goes to a Plan B, convincing the kids that his alice will only be temporarily affecting them until they agree to work for Z. After all, Natsume can’t really use his alice when Medusa has Mikan in his clutches. He’s been in this situation before, practically living in it, having the lives and happiness of his loved ones held over his head so that he will be pliant. Medusa comments that he loves torturing people like him, and he must not be the only one, since Natsume’s been tortured in this way for years now.

Ruka is hit in the shoulder while trying to shield Tsubasa from another attack from Medusa, and the shoulder region is particularly life-threatening, as it’s close to the heart and he might die from the loss of blood flow soon. Of course, this sets Natsume into berserk mode, but before he can use his alice, he coughs violently. This gives Medusa an opportunity to strike Natsume in his dominant arm, his left one.

He tries to use his alice, despite being at a new disadvantage, and still angry from what’s happening to Ruka. So his leg gets hit too.

Medusa gets temporarily incapacitated by Mikan’s nullification, so he sends Yuka to steal Natsume’s alice, which should be a walk in the park because he’s lost control of his arm and leg, so he can’t run away.

It’s here that Natsume reveals to the reader the secret he’s been keeping for the past few days, the one that we must now keep as well, that Mikan is Yuka’s daughter.

This is another one of those situations, where the stars align in all the wrong ways. Something you've always wanted is within grasp, but there's too many reasons not to take it.

Natsume stands there, unable to move, and ponders his situation as Mikan desperately screams for him to run away.

He wonders if he was waiting for this exact moment, if that’s the reason he came along at all, so that he could meet Yuka and have her steal his alice away.

Earlier, Natsume left a conversation about losing alices because it was too painful. He doesn’t feel the same way about his that the rest of them do. It’s not some fond part of him that he can’t stand to lose. He hates it. It’s been a hindrance since the day he was born. People of all sorts of organizations, including the government operated Academy and terrorist organizations like Z, have coveted his power. It’s put his loved ones in danger. It’s made his life a living hell. He’s been robbed of a fun childhood, of smiles and friendship, of peace. It’s stolen opportunity from him, so he can’t even feel free to pursue a crush, or make bonds freely, or let himself laugh. It stole his future from him, and he dies a little bit more every day. He won’t live long enough to go on a date, graduate, get married, get a normal job, have kids, grow old. He might not even make it to middle school, and he knows it. He lives his whole life in eternal emotional, physical, and mental agony. He’s always under the gun, always careful, always selfless, always defensive.

Why would anyone want that?

And this is his chance to lose it all. Things could be easier, better, safer. He could lose it and finally exhale. He could go back home to his dad. He could be an actual kid for once. Yuka could steal his alice and all of his responsibilities and the deadweight he’s been carrying on his back for his whole life could be gone.

Of course he almost lets her steal it.

But Mikan has been screaming in anguish for him to run away, and he remembers what she said when she saved him during the Reo Arc: that it was too late to give up, and that they should return to the academy together, because a bright future must be waiting for them.

And because of that, Natsume makes his first move to escape Yuka’s alice.

Does Natsume really want a future if his friends and loved ones would still be in danger? Would it be worth it if he was safe, if it came at the price of their safety? If Natsume doesn’t use his alice to keep them safe and protected, then who will? Who can?

Natsume smacking Yuka’s hand away isn’t selfish. It’s not him realizing he wants to keep his alice, that maybe deep down, he might actually love it. It’s not dear to him in any way. It’s still the thing that wears his body down and forces him to cough up blood. No, this act is selfless, yet again, because his own happiness and even his life come dead last to him. He has to keep them all safe after all.

Yuka snatches his wrist anyway, ready to steal his alice away, until she realizes she can’t. Mikan is using her alice from all the way across the room to protect Natsume.

So basically, the idea of Natsume leaving the academy causes this kind of reaction in Mikan, something Natsume has no choice but to see for what it is: fondness.

He looks at her with surprise, because this is an act of affection. Mikan has just used her alice to keep him with her. His life isn’t in danger, but she wants him to stick around. Now more than ever, Natsume can see proof that she cares about him, even despite all the bullying he’s done, despite all the mean words he’s thrown her way, even after he told her cruelly that he hates every single thing about her. Up until now, Natsume had no reason to believe she was doing anything but tolerating him, and though that was the outcome he was working for, deep down he does want the girl he likes to have some fondness for him too. This is the first time Natsume can really see that he means something to her too, as more than just a classmate or a partner. He is someone she doesn't want to part with.

And Mikan has fulfilled her wish, to be Natsume’s strength, because now Natsume is able to yell at her to duck and blow up the wall behind her.

Usually such huge explosions are the result of him at his angriest, using his ability to punish the people who hurt his loved ones. He’s probably also done similar things on missions, maybe even when he’s completely calm. But this time Natsume is weaker than ever, his dominant left arm completely out of commission, unable to move, under duress. He finds the strength to cause that explosion because of Mikan, because she wants him around.

While everyone is distracted, Natsume tells Yuka to go help Mikan, hinting that he knows her secret.

So Yuka stabs Mihara-san and has the petrified kids lick his blood off the blade. It’s confusing to the other kids why she would do this, but Natsume knows exactly why.

It would be interesting to see more interaction between Yuka and Natsume. Surely Yuka knows that Natsume is Kaoru’s son? It would be interesting to see if she noticed that his name matches Mikan’s. What does she think of him? What might their dynamic be like? I will always mourn that we’ll never find out.

Chapter Forty-Three

This chapter is the one that should officially designate this manga into the “tragedy” category. Yes, there’s been some heavy and deep stuff so far, most having to do with Natsume and the heavy abuse he deals with, but even with all that it’s managed to be mainly a cheerful and upbeat story. This chapter makes it clear that horrible and heart-wrenching things can and will happen, that we can’t count on a happy ending every time.

The kids are close to escape. They’re about to head through a warp zone back to school, and it’s urgent they move fast because the hide-out they’re in is currently imploding. Unfortunately, Mikan has dropped the antidote to the bullet that hit Hotaru, so she refuses to leave until she’s retrieved it from under a pile of rubble.

Pengy finally has a chance to prove itself, wriggling under and saving the antidote for Hotaru. It has helped Mikan, and because that’s the best thing someone can do, Natsume is grateful.

Natsume's smile (even a small one like this) has incredible powers, like giving robots a feeling of self-worth, making his classmates fall in love with him, and making me think he is a good boy. It would be irresponsible to overuse it.

Just like when Tsubasa showed his worth back at the high school division when he used his alice to help Mikan, Natsume has a new respect for Pengy, who was able to do something amazing to help the group, and Mikan especially. So he gives Pengy a slight smile. It’s really subtle and nothing outstanding on anybody else, but it’s a rare thing to get from Natsume, even for those whom he loves. “I guess you can be a little useful,” he says. This is the best sign of appreciation someone can get from him, and Pengy glows for a moment (ahh… the power of Natsume’s smile), until things fall apart.

The floor gives way under Mikan’s feet. They’re able to pull Mikan up, but Pengy is still too far to reach. Despite Mikan’s desperation, Pengy understands that they’re wasting time trying to reach it. Finally, after Pengy has proven its use to Natsume, it refuses to be a hindrance again, and sacrifices itself so that everyone can safely return the antidote to Hotaru.

They’re all through the tunnel, hit with the knowledge that Pengy is gone. They all react somewhat differently, but Natsume feels guilt.

Pengy's smile has evil powers because it makes me cry.

Natsume had considered Pengy a robot, something unfeeling and mechanical, just a useless thing Hotaru made once. It was something that could be discarded, and after it had proven to be troublesome, he’d even advocated that it should be discarded. He’d considered it useless all along, but when it really counted, Pengy was able to save Mikan and the antidote. It proved not only that it could be useful, but that it wasn’t just another mechanical robot. When Natsume smiled at it, it smiled back. And in its final act of sacrifice, it acted out of love for both Hotaru and Mikan, and Natsume feels sorry for what he’d said about it.

Natsume has a habit for establishing a bad impression of someone, and then having that person work hard to prove themselves to him. Pengy is one example, but he’s like this with Tsubasa, Mikan, and all sorts of people at first. People (and robots) that he despises until they show him what they’re really made of, winning his respect and sometimes even affection. It makes sense he would be so distrustful, seeing the life he has to live. Trusting the wrong person can get you hurt sometimes, and can lead to disaster. And having something useless like Pengy can cause a mission to fail. But Natsume is sometimes wrong about his first impression of a person, and the same qualities that could lead him to believe something is useless or annoying can end up being strengths that he respects.

Chapter Forty-Five

Yes, I skipped 44 because that’s more noteworthy as a Mikan chapter. Natsume doesn’t do anything I found particularly intriguing and I didn’t want to make anything up or repeat myself. In fact, for the rest of this arc, there’s very little left for me to say, so I apologize if this is a short analysis to conclude with.

The first thing we’ll address is the ESP and Persona discussing the insubordination that has just occurred. Yes, an injured student has safely recovered, and a Z hideout has been destroyed, but it wasn’t their plan for things to happen that way. Narumi needs a warning, for one. Natsume, according to Persona, needs simply to be punished back into obedience. From the way Persona talks about him, we can see how little he thinks of Natsume, how easy he can be to manipulate and control, which is all he is good for anyway. To them, Natsume is nothing more than a pawn in their game. Sure, he’s a useful pawn, the Black Cat that strikes fear into the hearts of the school’s enemies and successfully completes his missions even with a punishment mask on, but he’s still just a pawn. Nothing more.

While watching Mikan and Hotaru’s reunion, Tsubasa teases Natsume about joining the group hug. Natsume ignores him, and makes to walk away, but stops just long enough to toss his healing alice necklace to him. Tsubasa can borrow it to make up for having Subaru put Natsume’s injuries first. He makes it clear that he doesn’t want anybody looking after him, and that might seem like a snub, but this is kindness too. Natsume calls Tsubasa by his name, though he’ll do his best to avoid ever saying it again, and lends him a source of comfort and healing to pay back Tsubasa’s compassion. This is a growing moment, because Natsume has opened himself up to the idea that he could care about more people, even if it means more to lose.

Saying people's names is another rare magic from Natsume, I guess.

Natsume has learned things on this mission too, just like Mikan has. He’s a bit more open-minded now. He judged both Tsubasa and Pengy, and ended up changing his mind about them both, even if only by a little. He’s also discovered that Mikan has affection for him too, and it will completely undo all the effort he’s so far tried to make in distancing himself. It’s one thing to stay away from the girl you like when she hardly stands you. It’s another thing when she enjoys your company, and your feelings are turning into love. His feelings have intensified, or maybe they were always so intense but are just newly solidified, as he’s not hiding from them as much anymore.

He won’t be able to distance himself from her anymore, so he’ll completely stop trying.

Conclusion

Natsume has realized that Mikan holds a degree of fondness for him too, and because he is now very deeply in love with her, he will not be able to stay away like he'd resolved to before. Tomorrow we will begin our essay with Natsume's birthday, a very exciting way to start looking at his new approach to his relationship with Mikan.

The last essay (pt. 9) in particular inspired people to tell me that they were learning new things about Natsume, and as a result even loving him more, and that makes me so happy! Natsume is one of my favorite characters ever, and I want people to love him as much as I do! I love when people leave comments or questions! Really, I'm just so happy and over the moon that people are reading and enjoying, because again--this is a LOT of words. It's a long essay, and it means so much not just that people want to read about Natsume and his feelings for Mikan, but that they want to hear what I have to say about it! Thank you so much for supporting me! Isn't it exciting that we're about a quarter through? <3

I can’t put a song in the tags cuz I have too many tags. So. Church by Fall Out Boy.

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[kuronanox]

I can’t let go-Nozel

(Authors note: This may be angst or maybe not haha I've been in the mood! Also I've been a huge ass simp for Fuegoleon and Nozel! Help I can't like them both)

"I can't stand the sight of commoners talking to royals like it's their business." Nozel sneers in disgust as him, Fuegoleon and (Your Name) stood all side by side and watched the party go on in the ballroom.

"I'm basically a commoner!" (Your Name) tells Nozel with a grin as he rolled his eyes. She wore a regal dark green dress and her hair was curled elegantly. The shining gold around her neck and ears. She was definitely royalty to him.

"Adopted into royalty." He said in a matter of fact. "So it makes you royal." He adds ignoring the way she looked at him with amusement.

"You just won't admit you like a good for nothing commoner like me!" She stuck her tongue out and joined some of them into the dance floor.

"Always so harsh on your words." Fuegoleon chuckles as he watches the young teenage girl dance with some squad members.

Nozel shrugs as his braid moved along side with it. The two teens watched for a moment of silence before Fuegoleon broke the silence.

"I've been meaning to tell her about my feelings."

Nozel froze in his spot, his rival was interested in (Your Name). "Why does that matter to me." He plays it off and knits his brows growing bitter after each minute passes.

"I was just going to ask how you felt since she is technically a commoner... not that it matters to me." Fuegoleon adds with a smile of warmth staring at her as she smiled back at him with a grin and she slightly lost balanced but laughed it off.

Nozel felt jealous of how fond they were together. "I don't care what you do in your love life. It doesn't concern me."

Nozel was staring into space as he heard a knock on his office door. "Come in."

"Im sorry I needed advice." The Crimson Lion Captain says in a rush as he took a seat across from the desk. Fuegoleon looked as if he was sweating a ton and he didn't sleep that night.

"What is it?" Nozel sighs and signs off some papers he still hadn't finished.

"(Your Name) is back and I don't know what to do! I mean we've been together since we were 18 but I want to celebrate it! She's coming home after so many years!"

Nozel clutched his knees a bit and let go before rolling his eyes. "She should stay in that nonsense village and go live with those commoners she helps all the time." He adds with malice and a coldness that lingered in his heart.

Fuegoleon was silent before taking his leave. "I don't know why you are so bitter about her? Has she done you wrong in some way?"

"No." Nozel states and looks back up to his rival. "Many has done me wrong but I won't say to what it is... Now! I have a lot of paper work so if you wish to talk more nonsense to me I suggest to go to someone else."

"Well ...you are always welcome to visit her when she gets back." Fuegoleon invites Nozel before taking a leave.

"Nozel! Guess what?!" She cheerfully says to him as they walked around the kingdom doing small task for their captains.

"What is it?"

"Me and Fuegoleon are dating!"

He doesn't say a word and continues to walk, what could he say? Congratulations? I'm so happy for you? No he couldn't because that's not how he felt. As much as he despite the relationship he could never stoop so low to tell her how he felt now. It was to late.

"Are you happy?"

"Always!"

(Your Name) smelt the air of the Clover Kingdom and sighed in happiness. She was glad to be home again after being away for so long. After helping the less unfortunate and other villages she decided it was time to head home and be with the ones she loved.

Walking into the entrance of the the Crimson Lion base she spotted her favorite person in the world waiting with open arms.

She grinned as Fuegoleon looked back at her with longing eyes. She dropped her bags running towards his embrace. "I've missed you." (Your Name) whispers into his neck as he kissed her head. "I've missed you too love."

"It's been to long, I can't believe we lasted this long." She exclaimed as he picked up her bags from the floor. "I never doubted us." He tells her with a wink as they walked linked together into the base.

"(Your Name)!" Leopold yells running towards her with full speed and gives her a bear hug. She laughs and hugs the boy back. "You've grown little one!"

"Of course! I can't wait to show you how strong I've been!"

"I can't wait!" She says to him as he jumps excitingly like a little kid again. "Where's Mereoleona?" She adds.

"She wanted to come see you but you know she's doing Mereoleona things right now." Fuegoleon says slyly as they settled in.

Nozel frowned as he looked up to the Crimson Lion base. He really didn't want to see them together being all lovely dovey yet he missed her dearly. He was cold to her at times but he didn't know how to show he cared.

He wasn't surprised to see there was a spot saved for him at the table. They were close friends for a long time till she left to help the villages.

"Nozel!" She yells with excitement in her eyes as she rushed towards him and gave him a big hug. "I didn't know if you would show up!"

"Of course, I had to see this stupid girl after so many years away." He warmly smiled at her as she held his hands and grinned before showing him to his spot.

"I'm glad you came. She was asking for you." Fuegoleon tells Nozel with a happy smile. It was as if they were teenagers again.

"She really asked for me." He thought sadly with a warm feeling.

"I wrote letters but you never got back to me." She says as the banquet continued.

He hesitantly tried to say something before he made up a lie quickly. "I'm sorry, I don't think I ever got them."

It happened at the young age of 24 Nozel was starting to get tired of his endless emotions he felt for (Your Name). He was on a night walk to clear his thoughts when he heard familiar giggles from ahead of him.

"Stop! Someone might see us!" She tells Fuegoleon as he shakes his head, chuckles and grabs her waist to pull her closer. "Shh no one will, stop screaming then." He says as she gives him a small smirk.

"I didn't think Mr.Serious could loosen up a bit."

"Stop teasing." He blushes and kisses her cheek.

Nozel was fuming with anger as he watched the two interrupt his thoughts. He wanted to escape the two only to find them acting like children.

"Let's go home and finish this then." She tells Fuegoleon and he pouts a bit wanting to see the beautiful sky that night. Ignoring her statement he pulls her into a passionate kiss to which she returns before he nods and guides her back.

"Insufferable." Nozel says bitterly as he makes way back home with a heavy heart.

"Are you okay? You've been tightly holding your fork for a while." She calmly guides him back to reality. Nozel clears his throat and continues to eat. "I'm fine, I was just thinking about a new method to train my squad."

"Well me and Fuegoleon have exciting news! We might be trying for some kids now!"

"I get Nieces and Nephews! Woohoo I'm going to be the coolest uncle!" Leopold cheers as some fire comes off of him from excitement. "How many how many?!" He begged to know.

"As much as (Your Name) will let me have." Fuegoleon respectfully says giving her hand a light squeeze as she returned the favor.

Nozel stayed silent the whole time trying hard to be happy but nothing was working. "I just forgot I have to be up early tomorrow, I will take my leave. I give you my early congratulations." He says and walks off.

"I'll see you off." Fuegoleon says and walks side by side with Nozel. There was silence between the two and it was getting uncomfortable for the both of them to break it. "Why did you lie to her?"

"I didn't lie." Nozel grits his teeth and looks forward.

"I saw her letters on your desk before."

"Why do you care so much. We are adults now, I chose who I wish to contact." Nozel says sighing in expiratation.

"I only wish you told me how you felt about her before we got together." The older man says with guilty eyes. "I would never wish you pain even though you are my rival."

"I know you knew, I didn't think you'd bring it up."

Fuegoleon stops walking ahead and watches as Nozel silhouette disappears through the night. He truly never meant to hurt his friend and companion.

Dear Nozel,

It's been so long, I'm not sure if you have gotten my letters but I reassure you that when I get back things will go back to as when we were kids! I can't wait to go on adventures with everyone again unless I plan other things back home. The village side is beautiful, I only wished you could see it too. The grass is so green and the air is so fresh compared to the kingdom. I hope you've found someone by now, a girl that can handle that attitude of yours! Hmph I know you will make her the happiest she's ever been. Over protective, cold but caring and kind. The greatest treasure someone could have would be you Nozel. Lighten up a bit and let go. I'll see you soon.

Nozel sits on his desk reading all the letter she's ever sent him and sorrowfully burns them in his fire place. Her heart was too connected to another to see how much Nozel wanted her.

Maybe he could find someone, but you don't find love you just fall into it.

(Authors note: Angst? Also please leave some characters you would like me to write!)

[bumbershots]

LOVEFOOL

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my part for the Valentine’s Day challenge that @1dffchallenges put together. Make sure to keep an eye out for any other pieces published by other authors. Enjoy! And happy Valentine’s weekend! (:

Summary: Harry agrees to go on a blind date set up by his friends in hopes that it will help him move on from an unrequited love.

Word count: 3K

Challenge prompt and dialogue: blind date set up by friends. “I don’t want this to end...”

There’s a first for everything. Harry’s had his fair share of them at the age of twenty-seven. First time on an aeroplane at the tender age of six for a family holiday in Rome. First kiss on his home town’s park with someone he deeply cared about. First time in a recording studio. First time going on tour. The first night spent alone in his new and barely furnished home. The first morning he laid eyes on the girl next door. The ugly heartbreak after she got married, certainly felt worse than his first one.

Life is full of firsts, Harry knows that, and he wishes to have been the first to sneak his way into Jane’s heart, all those years ago.

"You love her" it almost sounds like an accusation coming from Jeff, though the last thing he wants is to make Harry feel guilty. The musician doesn't reply, he shrugs, eyes never leaving her no matter how deep into the ocean she seems to be. "Does she know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "Did you bring her along just so you could tell her?"

"I enjoy writing music with her, that's why she's here," his tone leaves no room for more questions, the manager knows and sighs defeated. Harry stands from his spot on the beach and heads back inside the house, alone.

Is he being that obvious?

He reviews the past few days and wonders where he slipped, nothing rings any bell. Harry completely and conveniently forgets how he doesn't nag her for having a smoke after dinner, instead he just opens the window and stands close to it, or how he's been making her a cuppa everyday at noon. But it was the time when Jane asked him to help her French plait her hair when something clicked in Jeff's brain, the way Harry beamed at such a simple request left no room for questioning. Yet he asked him, because there was that tiny chance of it all being part of the manager's imagination, but when he looked back on it, the little things now made more sense to him and in a way he always knew.

They've been in Port Antonio for two weeks now and everything was going just dandy, Harry was writing more than ever, the first week he had a new song every day, he even polished the old ones and had a tune for his favourites, thanks to Mitch's help. When Jeff Azoff got there earlier this week, he spent a good two hours talking to Jeff Bhasker about how much of a good idea the trip was.

"Harry is on a writing spree." He complimented Azoff's client, it was nothing but the truth. However the reason for it all, was now heading back to the house to join the others after a good surfing session.

Jane went straight to take a shower, ready to rinse all the ocean's saltiness from her body, thinking how wonderful it would've been if her own worries could be washed away with her tangerine shampoo. In contrast to Harry's good spirits and excellent mood, her own cloud of trouble seemed to follow her all the way from London. She still hadn't heard from her husband, so it is safe to say he was still upset about her going away to work in Harry's album. It was impossible for her to forget the argument they had, at first thinking it was a joke on his side, insinuating that they were ‘shagging behind his back’.

After her shower, wearing comfortable clothes, Jane joins the others for supper but keeps to herself, still with the dichotomy about calling Alex or letting him be. He will eventually come to his senses and apologise. 

What if he doesn't? 

The thought alone of her clothes being packed in boxes by the time she gets back home almost makes her cry, perhaps she can call or text him just to test the waters. It is ridiculous how she seems to be more mature about this than him.

"Penny for them?" Harry's voice brings her back to the now empty dining room, the voices from the rest of their party can be heard from the living room.

"God I'm sorry H, lost myself out there for a moment," she is embarrassed, with him, the others and herself for letting this situation get under her skin. And she's also avoiding talking about it, with Harry or anyone. "I was just thinking about the tempo for Sweet Creature."

"Liar," he hates to be shut down by her more than anything. "Is it because I didn't let you eat the last peanut drop the other day?" It would've been easier for her to say it was, than to address the actual reason. But Harry hasn't lied to her, ever.

"No love, although I was a bit hurt because of that, it's actually this thing with Alex we are, I don't know, he was upset with me and said some things," Jane couldn't finish, her speech was cut short by a quiet sob and Harry was quick to pull her from the chair onto his lap and hold her tight. His own heart speeding at the sight of her distressed.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two weeks ago." Her voice barely whispers on his chest, "he's being a wanker to be honest, just because he's not going on tour with any of his bands I'm supposed to be a stay at home wife!"

"Why don't you explain this to me, from the beginning, please?" He asks rubbing her back soothingly, and she spills it all, the having kids now or never argument, to her wanting to have a proper wedding party and finally the latest fight where Alex suggested an affair going on between her and Harry, the latter had to do his best not to put the option on the table, since her husband so kindly suggested it. Might as well, he thought. "It all sounds like a big misunderstanding, I know you're a great communicator sunshine, so it baffles me that you've let this go on for so long." He's got a point.

"You're right, but I feel like it's his turn, you know?" Jane's done weeping, but remained on her friend's lap and arms, head resting on his shoulder. "He's always forward, mature, a proper thirty year old except when it comes to arguments where we ought to reach an agreement," she plays a bit with the cross hanging from his neck, a scowl on her pretty face. "Like with the children thing, we only stopped arguing when I said that maybe in two more years we could have one instead of, you know, my early thirties." It's good that she can't see how upset Harry is.

"You gave into that one, he should do the same but it's his choice," Harry sighs and can't believe what he's about to say. "Take the day off tomorrow, call him or FaceTime, Skype whatever you choose, but have a proper conversation with him." She wants to argue and say it's not necessary to be absent the whole day, she can spare a few hours. But she will need time to think about what to say, make her point clear so they are on good terms until she goes back to London.

"Fine, but if he is still acting like a dickhead afterwards, I'm not going to let it into my head anymore, we will continue to bask in this great work environment going on here." Jane states, pulling away from his embrace just enough to give him that stern look she uses when trying to make a point, and Harry nods with a warm smile, the one she never gets tired of seeing. "I'll call it a night now, gonna be asleep in seconds now that I've got that out of my chest." She stands from his lap, missing his warmth instantly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime honey pie." Harry says before leaving a kiss on her left hand that burns her skin from then till morning.

Jeff joins the musician in the dining room right after the girl walks away to her room, he takes a seat across from him and scrutinises the look of adoration his friend still sports once she is out of the room.

"She'll never know, if you never tell her." Jeff is right, but the thought alone of going through that again scares him to death. Or so he says, because there's a part of him that is fond of the thrill it makes him feel.

"It's not like I haven't tried, just last year I told her," Harry remembers that night vividly, how pretty she looked even with her makeup all smudged under her eyes. "I'm not sure if she heard, it was too loud like where we were at the time." He was also pissed out of his mind.

"H, there's nothing wrong with being in love."

"I'm not saying it is, but even if she did love me I– I would find a way to hurt her. Anyway. she's happily married now, it's too late." Saying it out loud doesn't hurt him any less like he thought it would. Harry sighs in defeat before rising from the chair, "she's everything to me, I wouldn't mess with her head by confessing my feelings, deep down I always knew she deserved better and now she has it and that's good enough for me." The musician disappears through the corridor where his everlasting love did just a few minutes ago, he paused for a moment outside her room, pondering whether to barge in and just follow his instincts, kiss her like he should've done after winning that award back in 2014.

Harry shakes his head and goes straight to his room, he reminds himself that it was time to let her go. It's for the best. He is not good enough for her, he can't even write a song for her, about her. He mustn't love her that much then.

What Harry doesn't know is that he can't write a song about her because he loves her too much, the poor lad can't even figure out where to start. But he's about to get rid of that curse in a day or two, he just needs to be patient.

The reward for it came, all of a sudden Harry wrote too many songs about her until she inevitably became aware of the situation they were in. Harry vowed to stay away from Jane’s life after recording the album. He dated people that didn’t remind him of her, and even moved temporarily to Japan. But despite all his efforts, four years later Harry still finds himself thinking about her, everything seems to be tainted by her. The music he adores, the new dinner recipes he cooks, the books he chooses to read.

Completely out of options he agreed to this blind date his friends set up for him.

He arrives at the modest restaurant they so kindly chose for the occasion. “All you have to do is wear something nice and show up.” Alexa reminded him over the phone last week.

This is a new first for him, it is also exciting, to take a seat at a table for two conveniently placed at the back, pretend to pay attention to the menu but let his green eyes avert to whoever approaches. Harry is having a great time, he knows that soon his date will arrive. He wonders what they’ll be like.

According to Alexa and Pixie, the person arriving is the perfect match for their young friend. Harry can only hope they like Vietnamese cuisine because that’s apparently this place’s special offer this week. If he’s lucky enough the date will agree to share a starter and perhaps two main courses, that way he doesn’t have to choose between one or the other.

“Here’s your table.” Harry hears the waiter speak and his gaze meets a very familiar figure standing beside him. It can’t be.

“Excuse me, there must be a mistake, I’m waiting for someone else.” Harry protests.

The waiter shakes his head and shows him the notepad with some specifications written down. “Nothing wrong, got specific instructions from Miss Chung, a lady will come in to say is here for Geldolf’s blind date, you are sitting at the table they reserved. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He is quick to explain and disappear.

Jane sits because there is no way she can stand any longer, her legs are about to give out from the commotion. This was not the blind date she was expecting either. It’s been at least four years since she last saw Harry. The night after he finally admitted being in love with her, waiting for a reaction, anything from her, after what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes later, he walked out of her house and entire life, leaving her confused and upset.

“How’ve you been?” she asked after confirming that Harry wasn’t going to up and leave.

“Pretty fantastic, until you arrived.” He’s never spoken to her like that before, with so much affliction in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was set up on a blind date by Pixie—

He interrupts her. “That’s fucking convenient, did you all went to this much trouble, just to mock me? I thought they were my friends, you know, that even after everything, they cared about me.” Harry stops, his voice breaks, he’s so angry, hurt and confused by the situation. “Did your husband come along, to witness my humiliation too?” He looks around, trying to find the man of Jane’s dreams.

“I wouldn’t know if he’s here, haven’t seen him since we got divorced three years ago.” She snaps before hiding behind the menu from a gobsmacked Harry.

The words he’d been waiting to hear were finally out of her mouth. Unlike the million times he dreamt about this happening, Harry is not sweeping her off her feet and running away into the sunset holding her hand. Instead he reaches out to touch her arm, testing the waters. He waits for her to lower the menu and surprisingly there are no tears in her eyes. Perhaps only a bit of sorrow that is quickly replaced with confusion, at how fast her heart raced after Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is back to oozing the tenderness he reserves just for her. Jane nods.

“But can we share a rice bowl and Pho noodle soup?” 

“Yes, and dessert too!” Even after four years Harry’s sweet tooth hasn’t changed, Jane sighs before the waiter is back to take their order.

Keeping a conversation between the two of them is not hard at all, even if it is an awkward topic —her not so recent divorce. “We didn’t have anything in common anymore, there were so many fights every single day. When I finally suggested the separation, he seemed relieved and I felt like a complete fool.” Jane remembers the sigh of comfort that came out of the man she once loved with all her heart before that rainy afternoon, when she finally decided that she’d had enough. “He left that night, hadn’t seen him since, his lawyer took care of everything,” a sour laugh escapes her lips, Harry’s eyes are full of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry for ruining your blind date, I know you’ve never been to one before.” Of course she did, she knows him better than anyone.

“This has to be the greatest date I’ve ever been to.” He speaks without a second thought. 

All those years Harry spent away from Jane were not going to be in vain. He was not going to neglect the feelings he still had for her. That affection he felt for her, only her. Harry shifts in his seat, this is not at all how he planned it, in a restaurant full of people on fucking Valentine’s day. It almost seemed like a tacky move.

But after all this time of pining for her, hating her and himself at times. Harry was brave enough, it was now or never, he didn’t want to wait any longer, not after his friends schemed and executed this soppy plan to bring the two soulmates together. Before she could take the final bite of dessert that Harry kindly left for her. The world stopped.

“I don’t want this to end...” Harry says with a dimpled smile she can’t look away from. “I’d like to take you out on a second date, a third, fourth, fifth. Believe me when I tell you, I have planned up to a thousand of them.” He takes her hand in his and can feel her pulse race along his own. The smile splits his face again, because he knows, he feels, he sees it in her beautiful eyes. “Janey, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I know there is a name for this emotion, I’ve written songs about it, but now I don’t think it’s a word big enough for us.”

She squeezes his hand and breaths out a laugh, tears of joy brimming out of her eyes. “Let’s call it love, until we come up with a better name for it.” Harry agrees and just then, Jane brings up his hand to her lips. 

His skin tingles where she kisses him for the first time and he beams at her.

There’s a first for everything, and although it feels like it for Jane and Harry, this isn’t by any means the first time they confess their love for each other. It was always there, in every laugh they shared, every song they wrote together, every touch. It was on Harry’s unwavering devotion, on his impatience and selfless actions throughout the years.

They were bound to be together, their story didn’t begin on that initial blind date, it did years ago after he caught a glimpse of her shiny black hair on the morning she moved into the house across the street.

Harry drives her back to her new flat on the other side of the city, enjoying every minute of the long ride, happy to hear her ramble about her newest obsession with romantic novels and burst out laughing after Jane confesses that sometimes she doesn’t finish reading books she likes, just to pretend the story keeps going. With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he completely agrees.

No tale is more compelling than one that never ends.

[jonahlovescoffee]

Night Changes | J.M.

a/n this fanfic is inspired by one direction’s hit song with the same title. u can also listen to jonah’s cover of the same song here.This is the first complete fanfic I’ve ever written in my entire pathetic life and it has been rotting away in my files app for a while now lol u can see how insecure i was (and am) to put this out here but here it is anyways :’) any constructive criticism is appreciated <3 happy reading!!

summary: the death of his friend’s girlfriend made Jonah realize that nothing in life is permanent, including you.

warnings: mentions of death

word count: 2136

“We're only getting older, baby; And I've been thinking about it lately; Does it ever drive you crazy; Just how fast the night changes?”

It was yet another ordinary weekend night where Jonah and his band were gathered in the little studio of Daniel’s home, busy composing new music for their upcoming album without a care in the world when Corbyn’s phone rang all of a sudden.

Corbyn’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the caller ID on the screen before sliding the answer button to the right and excusing himself from the small room to take the call. No one thought much about it and proceeded with their songwriting process. However, when half an hour passed with Corbyn’s absence, that was when Jonah’s gut feeling told him that something wasn’t right. He brushed that thought off as quick as it entered his mind, trying his best to ignore the fact that he caught a glimpse of the caller ID and it was his girlfriend’s mother calling him, which was undeniably weird. As his roommate and best friend, Jonah could confirm that she had never called Corbyn unless there was an emergency. Heck, the last time she called him was when her car broke down somewhere in downtown LA and Corbyn was the only one she knew who lived close enough to pick her up.

His suspicion was soon proven right when Corbyn barged into the room seconds later with tears running down his cheeks nonstop like a river. Daniel, who was seated the closest to the door jumped up in shock just as Corbyn fell into his arms and started sobbing. The other boys made their ways to them as Daniel patted Corbyn’s back in attempt to calm him down.

“What’s wrong?” Zach asked curiously and Jack elbowed him on the arm. “Ow, what was that for?” Zach exclaimed, earning a glare from the other male that clearly said, “Can’t you wait until he stops crying to pry for answers?”

“She killed herself,” Corbyn managed to say between sobs.

“Who?” Daniel asked softly.

“My girlfriend,” the 4 boys’ breaths hitched in utter shock. None of them were expecting this news in forever. Madeline was the most cheerful and optimistic girl Jonah had ever met. She brought sunlight and joy into every room she entered. Were those traits of hers merely a mask to hide all the despair and anxiety underneath? It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.

“My sweetheart killed herself,” Corbyn repeated, mostly to himself with a hint of disbelief in his tone. It was evident that he was still having a hard time letting the fact sink in. “We just went out for dinner last night and now she’s gone. Forever. She didn’t even say goodbye. What should I do? How can I live without her?”

“She should’ve said something. I could’ve done so much to help her instead of letting her die just like that. I saw the scars on her hand last night but I assumed it was nothing serious. It’s my fault. I could’ve stepped in and save her but I didn’t. Why? Why?!” Corbyn screamed and tugged at his hair frustratedly.

Silence ensued, the only sound being Corbyn’s uncontrollable sobs. No one said anything because they knew that no words were powerful enough to comfort him for the time being. The most they could do was be there for him.

#

Jonah pulled up in your driveway in the middle of the night. He left his house right away after ensuring that Corbyn was sound asleep in his room in fear of his best friend trying anything stupid under the influence of tremendous grief. He knew that you were probably asleep at this hour and he should’ve waited until the morning to pay you a visit but he couldn’t wait any longer. Madeline’s death had made him realise that nothing in life lasts forever and he wanted—no, needed—to be by your side tonight to make up for the past few days of neglecting you because of work.

After some debating in his head whether to wake you up from your deep slumber like an ignorant boyfriend or just turn around and go home, he turned off the engine and rushed out of his car and onto your doorstep before he could change his mind. He used the same key you gave him months ago to unlock the front door and was then greeted by a silent pitch black, empty living room. He locked the door with a soft click behind him before tiptoeing up the stairs and entering your room. He made sure to keep his movements as silent as possible as he knew better than anyone that you were a terribly light sleeper and could be awoken easily by the softest sounds. He took off his shoes and joined you on the king-sized bed, wrapping his arms around your sleeping figure gently to pull you closer to him. He contentedly nuzzled your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo that smelled like cherry blossoms and spring air. It was only then he felt truly at ease, with you perfectly safe and sound in his arms.

As he half expected, you stirred from your sleep, wiggling your body slightly before turning towards him, your arms habitually made their way around his neck even in your half-awake state. You couldnt help but smile when you felt him tightening his arms around you like he was holding onto you for dear life. “Hey, love,” you mumbled groggily, staring up at him with droopy eyelids in your pyjamas that had bunny patterns all over them that you were more than embarrassed to be seen in by anyone but you could care less since Jonah had been your boyfriend long enough to know about your preference for childish pyjamas over mature flimsy nightgowns. “What brings you here?”

“Just wanna see you,” he replied with a smile. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took a moment to drink in your beauty—the crinkle by your eyes when you smile, you supple lips and the freckles on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moonlight that shone through the windows—all ordinary features of yours that you had never been particularly fond of but were all made perfect in his eyes. He was lucky to have the chance of calling you his, but Madeline’s unexpected death that night made him wonder how long this could last? Without realising, he let his mind drift further into the sea of uncertainties of the future, getting more anxious by the second, especially when he was met with the thought of ever losing you one day.

“Jo, are you okay?” You asked worriedly when you noticed his tense expression. He offered you a meek smile in return. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he replied, but his furrowed brows claimed otherwise.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that face, dear. What’s wrong?” You watched him stay silent for a while as if he was trying to come up with a suitable answer to your question.

”I just...can I stay over tonight with you?” He asked and you let out a hum in agreement, your hands rubbing soothing patterns down his back. Even after all this time, he still hadn’t managed to get rid of the old habit of asking for your permission to spend the night at your place although he knew that you would agree without hesitation every single time he did so. You wanted nothing more than to find out what was going on in his head at that moment but he didn’t look like he was in the mood to talk, so you pushed your questions aside for later.

Both of you stayed like that for who knew how long, unmoving, limbs tangled with each other’s as the cool night breeze wafted into the room through the opened windows. “Madeline died,” he said out of the blue, breaking the silence. Shock was an understatement to what you felt. You couldn’t believe your ears. You weren’t exactly best friends with Madeline but still close enough to hang out together occasionally when both of you were free from your hectic schedules, mainly because Jonah and her used to have a thing for each other back in high school before she got with Corbyn so there had always been a tinge of awkwardness between you two. Yet this news hit you hard all the same.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it. “When?”

“Few hours ago,” Jonah answered, his hand stroking your hair with the utmost gentleness, which prompted your tears to resume falling. He let you cry it all out without a single complaint about your tears staining his shirt. “She took her own life.”

“Why?” You sniffled and he shook his head. “No one knows; I guess even the most optimistic person on earth has her invisible demons too,” he said with a sigh.

“Is that the reason why you came here tonight?” You wiped your tears away with the long sleeves of your shirt as you took several deep breaths to recompose yourself, bracing yourself for his answer. Old feelings die hard, that was what you always hear people said, especially your first love. Part of you were scared that Jonah still harboured feelings for her even after all this years and you were nothing but an emotional support rebound tonight.

“Yes and no. I came here after hearing about the news, yes, but I’m not here to mourn about her, for now,” he added the last two words hastily in case you get the wrong idea and thought that he was being rude. You were ashamed for feeling extremely relieved that his answer wasn’t what you expected. “I came here to make up for the past few days of absence and make sure that you’re alright. Have you ever, you know, done that?”

It took you few seconds to get what he meant. “Of course not, Jo. I promise you, I never tried self-harm before, and I never will,” you replied truthfully.

“Thank god,” he sighed with relief and planted a tender kiss on your forehead, “I don’t know what I’d do if you said yes.”

“You know that you’ll be the first one I talk to if I have anything bothering me, right?” You took his hand in yours while staring at him expectantly for an answer but none came. “Jonah, please don’t tell me that you seriously think that I’m someone who resorts to harming myself when the going gets tough?”

“I...I don’t know,” he admitted sheepishly which earned a sigh from you, a small smile tugging at your lips. You still couldn’t believe how this man in front of you—a confident rising boyband star—could get so worked up over a plain girl like you. He swallowed thickly before continuing, “Today made me question everything I know like how long this relationship can last—how long we’ll get to stay us until the world decides to tear us apart. We always said we’ll be together until the end of times but so did Corbyn and Madeline and look at them now. Madeline just....left without a word to anyone. I know it’s stupid but I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you and now I’m being such a sap and you probably are disgusted —”

“Jonah, stop. You’re over-thinking everything. I’m not disgusted at you, not even one bit,” you raised a hand to his cheek and traced a thumb over it tenderly, knowing that this simple gesture never failed to soothe his raging emotions. “It’s normal to feel this way, love. But whenever you do, please remember this: there’s nothing to be afraid of because I love you so much, Jonah Marais Roth Frantzich, that I can never ever think of hurting myself because I know that that’ll hurt you; I love you so much that I started crying a little less, smiling a little more because I know that no matter how hard my day is, I’ll always have you to come home to.”

You watched as a tear escaped from him. “I don’t know what the future holds but I can promise you this,” you locked your eyes with his, your gaze filled with the utmost love and adoration in contrast with his worried one. “No matter how fast the night changes, it’ll never change me and you.”

“You promise?” His lips curled upwards into a small smile as he leaned in, leaving only an inch between your lips, your breaths mingling with each other’s. As always, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the close proximity as you mirrored his expression with a sweet smile of your own.

“Forever and always,” you breathed and he closed the distance between your lips, sealing the promise.