#counter counter point - idc i hate blues eyes

[mwppp]

my nit picky annoying thought of the night is that i hate when someone says/draws/writes that sirius’ eyes are blue … they are grey.

[hookingminor]

56,64,77 with Colton please! Love your writing 😌

a/n: are vince and colton even friends idk and idc I only know 2 blues also I hate writing endings for blurbs I'm so bad at them idk why I never know how to end them

56. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

64. “What happened back there?”

77. “We’re meant for each other.”

requests are now closed

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“Alright, are you going to tell me what just happened back there?” You demanded when you’d finally gotten back to your apartment.

Colton was acting like an asshole all night, and just when you were starting to have a good time, he was dragging you out of the bar without a second thought.

It wasn’t like him to be so moody. Usually, he was the happiest person you knew. No matter what happened, he was always in a good mood. It took everything to go wrong for him to be this pissed off, and last time you checked, nothing had gone wrong all night.

“Like you don’t know,” he scoffed, kicking off his shoes.

“No, I don’t know,” you replied sourly, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You were practically hanging off Vince all night,” he said with a glare.

“Is that what this is about? We were just having a good time,” you said, offended at his insinuation.

“You should be having a good time with me, your boyfriend, not my teammates,” Colton said.

“Like you weren’t at the bar for half the night with girls hanging off of you!” You shouted back.

“I was only at the bar because you were too busy doing shots with Vince!” He defended.

“I can’t believe we’re having this fight right now,” you said, exasperated, “I was just trying to hang out with your friends because I want to make a good impression. You can’t fault me for getting along with them. We’re meant for each other, and if you really think that I’d do something like that intentionally, I don’t know what to say.”

Colton didn’t respond after you snapped at him. You could tell he was feeling a little guilty about everything he’d said, but he wasn’t ready to admit he was wrong just yet.

“Whatever, Colt,” you sighed, “I’m going to bed.” And with that, you pushed past his body so you could make your way to the bedroom.

You changed out of your clubbing clothes and threw on one of Colton’s old t-shirts before going to the bathroom so you could remove your makeup and brush your teeth. You were in the middle of wiping off your foundation when Colton entered the bathroom, walking similarly like a dog with his tail between his legs.

You didn’t acknowledge him as he stepped behind you and wrapped his arms over your shoulders. His eyes met yours in the mirror, and regret was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, his voice muffled by your hair, “I’m just used to girls wanting to bounce between teammates, and I immediately thought the worst.”

You continued to wipe at your face, giving him a look that said he wasn’t quite forgiven yet.

“I shouldn’t have assumed you were flirting, especially when I was the one who made you come out. I’m sorry, baby,” he tried again.

Throwing the makeup wipe on the counter, you twisted in his arms so you could look at him directly.

“If you have a problem with something I’m doing, you have to talk to me about it. You can’t just bottle it up and act like a bitch whenever you feel like it,” you scolded, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he said, “I promise I’ll talk to you next time. How about I make up for it right now?” Colton slowly trailed his hands from your waist down to your hips, tugging you closer to his body to emphasize his point.

“Aw, baby, if you wanted to get laid tonight, you should’ve thought about that before starting a fight,” you pouted, patting his chest before breaking his grip and walking back to the bedroom.

“I just said I was sorry!” Colton complained with a groan, following you out.

“And you can sleep on it tonight and think about it,” you said, climbing under the covers without giving him a second look.

You didn’t wait for him to join you before flickering off the bedside lamp, leaving a frustrated Colton in the dark.

[nehswritesstuffs]

Cozytober 2020, Whouffaldi Edition! - Part 7

Long story short: I came across a prompt set for October this year that’s very chill and laid back, so I decided to try my hand at it. Each prompt is for a couple days and you can find it [here].

900 words; confession time: I was reminded of Danny Hate (not how some of you reading might think) and my immediate and visceral reaction is almost always to write fic in it with him, thusly making this take place in a Good Ending of s8 where he lives and whatnot; kinda sappy but idc

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six -

Cozytober Days 25-28: sunset; Even though it’s Sunday, the Doctor really, really wants to show Clara something.

The warm, aromatic smell of chicken and spices was filling the flat, letting it be known that dinner was impending, though still a while yet. Danny walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Clara from behind, resting his chin atop her head as she stirred the sauce on the stovetop.

“I still say I should be cooking if it’s my flat,” he groused.

“…and I still say I cook a better biryani,” she smirked. Clara moved within his grasp, making his arms slack as she shifted in order to reach the pot of yogurt on the counter before spooning it into the sauce. “How about next time we have kedgeree at my place, it’s your turn.”

“You don’t like kedgeree.”

“That’s not the point.”

He took the empty yogurt pot from her and went to rinse it out in the sink. “I know; the point is that I feel bad.”

“Then let’s move in together and get you used to the concept of our kitchen instead of yours or mine. You know the offer’s still on the table.”

“Yeah, I know; I still need to get with my landlord about if I can break the lease early.” He felt her touch his arm and he looked, seeing that she had stepped away from the stove for a moment. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her lips, which he pulled away from soon as he heard a noise from inside the sitting room.

VWORP – VWORP – VWORP

“I better go see what he wants before it’s dinner for three again,” Clara said.

“I’ll watch over the sauce,” Danny sighed. “At least it’s now and not while we’re trying to sleep.”

“It could be much worse than that and you know it,” she replied, patting his rear before leaving the kitchen. She saw the TARDIS finalizing her materialization in the middle of the rug and crossed her arms, waiting patiently. The Doctor popped his head out soon as things were stable, frowning at the environment.

“This isn’t your flat,” he said.

“It’s mine!” Danny shouted from the kitchen. “It’s Sunday!”

“He’s right, you know,” Clara mentioned. “What is so urgent you couldn’t wait until Wednesday?”

The Time Lord simply held out his hand. “Trust me.”

She did, though gave him a skeptical look as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her onto the ship. A few levers and switches and the TARDIS landed again, with him offering his arm this time instead. She took it and raised an eyebrow.

“Is my biryani going to get cold or burnt?”

“Possibly; I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I just found this, and knew I had to show you in person now before I forgot.”

The Doctor opened the door and led Clara out. As they walked across the purple grass of a clifftop, they were awash in golden light as three suns set on the horizon. The sky was greens and blues, with orange clouds catching the light playfully.

“…it’s beautiful…” she marveled. She leaned against his arm, smiling as she gazed out on the valley below them: rolling lavender hills and a pink lake with a stream.

“Is this an okay interruption to Sunday dinner?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I think so.” Clara sat down on the ground and let her eyes wander. The Doctor joined her, though his gaze was not on the landscape, but on her face as she took everything in. “What’s that down there?”

“Hmm…?” He looked in the direction she was pointing—a small spire of smoke lifting into the air from the far end of the lake. “Oh, those are the locals.”

“Let’s go visit them.”

“I’d rather not; they’re a bit on the xenophobic side, Laxxians, and I’d rather not make you a prisoner of war while PE has charge of the biryani,” he explained. She let out a low laugh and resumed leaning against him, allowing him to wrap an arm around her. “Susan and I ran into them once on accident, hence why we’re keeping our distance.”

“Can you blame them? You’ve always been such a charmer.”

The Doctor grunted in irritation—she didn’t need to bring himself into the conversation. Well… he technically brought himself into the conversation, though she was the one who continued with it, which was admittedly less than flattering. She gave his thigh a pat, though it was less comforting than was intended.

“Warts and all,” she reminded him.

“I don’t have warts, Clara. Those viruses don’t affect me.”

“You know what I mean.” She turned to him and gently pulled down his face so as to kiss him tenderly. “Don’t worry: you have just the right amount of charm.”

“Says who?”

“Says the most important person: the Impossible Girl.”

Unable to argue, he watched her go back to observing the valley, taking careful note of her face. He was still learning, but what he saw seemed promising: the slight upturn of the corner of her lips, the relaxing of her brow, the way the lids of her eyes drooped slightly in her content state. It was a good face to shuffle away in his memory, so that not only would he know next time how she was reacting, but was something to remember fondly in the times between Wednesdays (and the occasional interruption).

At least when they got back, the biryani was far from burnt.