#how about sit in a comfy chair? surprise! it's a mimic

[konakoro]

We're all excited for Night of the Nocturne for Strange Chests and Eggs and new familiars and apparel and whatnot,

but honestly it would suck to be the poor denizens of Sornieth who essentially have to fight off a global infestation of mimics for two weeks straight every year

[bite-sized-devil]

You ask for help dying your hair from your favourite demon. Will he accept?

This is such a self indulgent piece, in case you haven't guessed I dyed my hair. Mostly SFW, a little suggestive in parts so just to be safe you need to be 18+ to ride read.

You'd felt like a change, you've had the same hair style and colour since you arrived in the Devildom. You've already decided on the colour you wanted but just need some help with the application. Now, who should you go to for help?

Lucifer:

Of course you go to the first born, he's busy but he always makes time for you.

He accepts your request, but there will be no complaining about hair pulling. He's got a job to do, he won't be distracted by your incessant whining. He definitely wasn't prepared for the little moan that escaped your lips when he tugged a little to hard. Still, it doesn't distract him, he'll explore that little discovery later.

He has everything ready for you, a comfy chair, a robe, hair pins, cap, brush, gloves and a bowl. The most prepared... all you did was buy some dye.

If you think you'll be washing the dye out in the shower think again. Lucifer wants to treat you to a head massage, he wants you relaxed, the pressure to your scalp from his fingers is just right. Kind of shocking how good he is at this. But then when you think about it, its not too surprising, he's pretty perfect at everything and you tell him as much. That makes him smile, his little human thinks he's perfect. He'll show you his appreciation for that little comment later.

Expect to have the best dye job ever, like it is just as good as if you had gone to the salon. He is that meticulous.

Mammon:

You trust him enough to dye your hair? He's touched, he pretends he isn't though. Of course you want The Great Mammon to dye your hair, his cheeks are tinted pink though so you know he loves that you asked him.

He's not prepared though, like at all. Shit, even less prepare when you walk into the bathroom in nothing but a bralette and underwear. Now he's under prepared and flustered! Fuck, he's even more glad you asked him to help you and not his brothers. Only he should see you like this.

You don't have to worry to much about hair pulling as he's so gentle with you. If he pulls on your hair he's instantly checking if you are okay and apologizing profusely.

Your dye job comes out all streaky because he keeps getting distracted by how much of your skin is showing. And is that your nipples he can see through that mesh bralette? Fuck! He needs to adjust his pants but can't because of the dye all over his hands.

Leviathan:

OMG! You want to dye your hair like your favourite anime character? Of course he's going to help! On one condition though, he wants you to do his hair too.

He sets you up to sit on the edge of his bathtub with your favourite anime playing, he even has matching shirts for you to wear while he does it. He's got everything he needs, he's very prepared. He wants to do a good job for you!

He's just about to start when he realizes he's going to get dye all over the shirts he got for you both! That would be a disaster. He's about to go get some towels and maybe an apron for himself when you lift the shirt over your head and motion for him to do the same. See, no need to ruin some perfectly good towels! He's a blushing, stuttering mess at your actions but he mimics you and takes his shirt off. Did you just look at his chest and bite your lower lip? No way! As if you'd find a gross otaku like him attractive. But he can't explain away the blush on your cheeks as you turn back towards the TV, or the slight stutter to your words when you say you're ready to begin.

Levi is very gentle with your hair, he doesn't want to hurt you. His fingers are soft when they maneuver your head so he can get to a spot better. Soon enough he's finished and he's setting a timer for you.

Now it's his turn! You make sure you're just as gentle when doing his hair. You try not to smirk when your doing the front of his hair and he's trying super hard not to stare at your chest. He's moving around so much you make him put his hand on your hips just to stop his squirming. That seemed to work for a bit but soon he's moving you closer to him and your getting more and more flustered, this only eggs him on more. Soon his face is resting between your breasts and he's giving you slow open mouth kisses all over your chest. His hair is definitely going to need to be fixed by a professional after this. You both pay no attention to that timer he set ages ago. At least it isn't bleach in your hair.

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeous, Beelzebub, Belphegor.

[bubbledumbbinch]

Some oral headcanons for Riddle, Idia and Epel (if you write smut for him). Both giving and receiving please 🔥🔥

Woohoo!!!! First ask EVER!!!! I hope u enjoy it aaaah, the reader in this scenario has no specific pronouns but fem body parts, since that’s what I’m most comfy writing with rn ;v; i will try to keep getting better the more i write!

A/N: This piece of writing is purely 18+ only. Minors do not interact.

Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

Giving

Riddle has never given oral, but he is fueled by his desire to please you!!

He offers it as some kind of reward for doing so well on an exam he helped you study for

Now, Riddle has certainly passed by the human anatomy images in textbooks and read about each person’s sexual body parts, learning about it in a very educational way. He usually blushed when he looked at the detailed images and quickly turns the pages.

Riddle would have researched different ways on how to please you before actually initiating anything; he wouldn’t want to completely blow it (pun intended) with you.

But learning about things in a book and actually practicing it would be completely different, he’ll come to find out!

He lets you sit on the edge of his bed while he kneels down in front of you, looking up at your face as he pulls your pants and underwear off

Riddle turns almost as red as his hair when he finally sees your leaking cunt, excited that he made you feel this way!

He watches your face intently as he listens to the noises you make, taking your body language into great consideration.

He focuses his energy on your clit and spends time building you up to your release

Riddle moans lightly as you cum, still licking you as you ride out your high

He wipes his mouth as he comes up to kiss you sweetly, teasingly asking you how it was, the smug bastard KNOWS he made you feel so good

Secretly plans on doing it more often because he wants to watch your face twist in pleasure because of him.

“Ah, my rose... did you enjoy that?” The redhead asked smugly, smirking at your form as he raises his head up. “I believe you really did, by the way you made such a mess on me...”

Receiving

Surprise surprise, Riddle ALSO has never received head!

Is a blushing mess when you offer it so casually during a heated makeout session!! But he can’t deny his beautiful rose, can he?

He remains seated on his chair as you knelt down on the floor, undoing his belt and pulling his bottoms down.

He’s extremely embarrassed because, he’s a bit average if not less than the average. Riddle’s worried you would judge him in that department, but when you stroke the precum leaking out of him with your finger he lets go of all of those doubts!

He can’t help but let out a groan and throw his head back when you give his cock a kitten lick from the base to the tip and then engulf him in your mouth.

Riddle tries to be quiet but you can hear his little gasps and you look up to see his eyes glazed in pleasure.

You also can’t help but let your hands explore his body,

He feels like he can’t control himself and grips your hair in his fingers, releasing in your mouth

If you swallow his cum, expect Riddle to freak out the first time, him completely flustered !! But also secretly turned on 😏

“Mmh,! S-so good...” Riddle’s panting as he finished. “E-eh?! You swallowed?! Why?!!” His face is burning by now. “My rose, let’s wash down that flavor with a sweet tart now, hm?”

Idia Shroud x Reader

Giving

It starts out with the two of you by yourselves in his room, sitting on the floor and playing games

Idia notices the way your thighs look thicker when you are sitting in a certain position, reminding him of a certain set of lewd doujinshi images he has masturbated to a few times

You catch Idia staring, fixated at your thighs and quickly catch on

You have to be the one to initiate anything since you know Idia is not the type to!

When you get up to lay down on his bed, Idia actually manages, somehow, to ask you to sit on his face! You’re surprised he would even initiate anything at all!

You’re embarrassed but seeing the way his eyes look so lustful when you lower your hips to meet his mouth, it spurs you on and gives you some confidence!

He lowkey wants you to suffocate him with your thighs..... he won’t tell you that in person though!

Idia hasn’t done this before, but he has watched a lot of hentai scenes of eating out, so he tries to mimic the same actions and is met with your high pitch moans!

When he feels you squeezing his head when you’re close to cumming he uses his hands to keep you in place, not letting you pull away

When he sees and hears you orgasm he swears he could just die a happy man right then and there!!

“A-ah.. this was so much better than my fantasies.... Y/N, you truly are my SSR character...” you heard Idia muttering into your thighs as he lays there, looking even more happy than you were at the moment! You had to wonder, “was this for my enjoyment or his?”

Receiving

Idia would definitely want you to give him head while he is gaming or coding 👀

Personally I see him as really horny but never brave enough to really initiate things verbally

Idia would have a pink flush on his face as he asks if you could suck him off

He makes sure that he was able to tell Ortho to go out and run some errands for the dorm which he knew would take a little while

He would probably be on his gaming chair, with you on your knees in front of him

Idia would bite his shirt or the sleeve of it while feeling you lick at his cock, sighing heavily once you start to pick up your speed

If he is gaming though, he turns off his mic and releases short gasps and sighs of pleasure, trying to prove he is great at what he’s doing by being distracted but still winning

He would definitely tell you when he was close to cumming, planning to pull out. Depending on if you decide to swallow or have him pull out, either scenario would be a win for him.

The idea of having his seed in your mouth or painting your pretty face only serves to turn him on more :)

By the way DEFINITELY don’t tease him by saying you’ll wear kitten ears the next time you blow him, he will be adding them to his online shopping cart within the next .5 seconds

“Oh- Oh Great Seven- That was close..!” Idia groans, accompanied by the sounds of his rapid movement on his controllers. Once he notices you swallow his cum, he instantly turns pink and you swore his hair flashes red for a moment! “I-..... you didn’t need to... do that..” he turns away from your gaze.

Epel Felmier x Reader

Giving

Epel definitely wants to prove he’s a man who can provide to his partner!!

He would not be forceful, but offer to treat you and take an initiative! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

Epel gives you plush pillows to lay down on his bed and makes sure to have his apple scented candles on to set the mood~

He secretly asked Rook for advice but you don’t need to know that LOL

Epel is definitely the type to be shy internally but tries to cover up that fact by trying to be dominant, but not too over the top. He wants to be respectful of your boundaries

Epel will try to use his fingers as well - using them to tease your nipples or play with your dripping hole~

Rook told him to do that LOL

When you look down you’re met with the lavender haired boy looking up into your eyes with a determined yet lustful gaze, cheeks tinged with pink ❤️

When he finally brings you close to your release, he works his pink tongue more aggressively as he watches you come undone~

What a hardworking farm boy! We love :)

“Well, how was that? Wasn’t that something a real man would do for his woman?” He asked you, a big grin on his face when you nod your head and smile at him.

Receiving

You totally catch Epel off guard when you ask to give him a blowjob!!

He became a blushing mess and was shy, at first.

However, you sorta made him a bit mad and told him his dick was cute, no matter how big it was, describing HOW it was cute in great detail!

Epel tried to conceal his feelings but once he felt you wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, he lost himself.

He grabbed your head a bit roughly, “I’ll show you how cute I can be...” as he fucked your face (with your consent!)

Hey, you know the repercussions of calling him cute, and how much he hates it!

If he notices you don’t like how rough he’s being, he will stop being rough once he notices your body language and if there are tears pricking your eyes he gets pretty worried!

However if you DO like it, Epel will definitely keep going at it, and fuck your face faster once he feels his release coming.

You look up at his face while he released inside your mouth and you see his eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Epel’s releasing moans that are throaty and similar to his “real” voice he hides from everyone.

He’s a blushing, panting mess once you’re through with him!

“Sh-shit!!” Epel grips your hair tightly as he shoves his cock to the back of your throat, simultaneously releasing his seed and showing his dominance. “You... were amazing...” he pants, too tired out to even care about how he sounded at the moment.

[sneezefiction]

untouchable | vii

Atsumu x Reader

desc: in which an accidental run-in with pro volleyball player, Atsumu Miya, at a 7/11 leads to a strangers-to-lovers situation… but the catch is, you have no idea that he’s famous.

warnings: slight language, anxiety

wc: 3.2k

part 6 ⚬ part 7 ⚬ part 8 (coming soon)

untouchable m.list

—

“Here ya go.”

Osamu sets down a small cup of water, letting it clink against the bar’s granite surface. There’s no ice in it, but you can tell by the condensation on the glass that it’s cold. Osamu tosses a plastic straw toward you and it lands conveniently right next to your cup.

Throwing him a quick smile, you reach to take a sip but pause when you hear the click and gentle hiss of a drink can.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

It’s a reminder of street vending machines and roadside shops. Of summer walks on hot pebbled pathways and after-class escapades with old high-school friends. 

But, just to be sure, you glance over to study the object in the hands of the man next to you.

Yes, you confirm, Miya Atsumu has indeed brought a can of green tea into his brother’s restaurant. And, yes, you are quite amused.

You choke down the rising laughter in your chest, though you can’t hide the small smile creeping onto your lips. This is the dorkiest thing you think you’ve ever seen on a not-date before.

 “Where the hell were you hiding that?” You tilt your head, leaning toward him to get a closer look at the drink.

“You’ll see.” Completely unfazed, he reaches for his coat, which hangs on the back of the chair, and digs into the pocket…

And, if what you’re seeing is true, he’s just fished out a second can. The paper covering the aluminum has a pink, floral print and reads, “Matcha-” but his thumb covers the rest of the lettering.

“What? Did you want one?” Atsumu tilts his head and places the can next to your water glass.

You stare at it, curious about two things. 

The first thing being his massive fucking pockets. They must be something of a void for him to fit two whole cans in the same pouch. Well, it’s more like you assume they were contained in a single pocket. Otherwise, you would’ve noticed a sloshing, aluminum object bumping up against your side as you two walked arm-in-arm.

The second thing that struck you is that he actually thought to bring two. Did he plan on drinking both? Was it originally for his brother? Or did he intend to offer you one right from the start? 

You do happen to like this brand of tea.

Atsumu leans back into his chair, tossing an arm over the back of the seat. “My friend tells me it’s good for digestion,” he explains and takes a sip.

“My digestion is just fine, thanks. You can keep it.” 

Your eyes crease in mirth. He has some interesting friends, that’s for sure. And why does he care about digestion? He’s fit and muscular and... is he constipated or something?

Yeah, that’s not something you should ask about.

“I’m gonna try not to imagine what else you could be hiding in those pockets,” you say, twisting your face in concern and pinching your eyebrows together.

Atsumu grimaces, shifting in his seat. “Did ya have to say it like that?” 

“I think I have every right to say it like that. You could be a freak for all I know.”

“Um, I think it’s entirely possible that you’re the freak here.” He shoots right back at you through mock-judgmental eyes.

Your jaw drops in amused surprise. You shove his arm playfully, but his balance hardly wavers. He grins in response, golden eyes glimmering. Your hand lingers briefly as you mimic his smile, but you notice and drop it quickly.

“Gettin’ comfortable now aren’t we?”

A faint flush dances across your skin. Maybe you were being a little touchy… but flirting hasn’t been this fun in so long. Anyway, he was the one who had you walking arm-in-arm with him earlier.

That thought alone makes your heart jump.

You look away, grasping the straw in your glass and twirling it around. “You got all comfy first,” is all you can huff out.

“Well, yeah.” Atsumu places an elbow on the table and props his chin up with his hand, “I mean, this is a date isn’t it?” He takes another sip of his drink, acting as though what he said wasn’t headline news.

Huh?

So apparently this whole not-a-date but possibly-a-date situation had an obvious answer… to Atsumu that is. It still felt about as clear as rocket science to you though.

“Is it?” The words flow from your lips before you can stop them.

He blinks. “Hm.” 

You swallow, “Is this a date?” 

He gestures a hand at the two of you, “I mean... I thought it was.”

Well, yes. You’re both sitting across from each other. Neither of you knows the other well. Atsumu had taken you to his brother’s restaurant.

Everything that’s happened in the past hour screams, “date.”

And, yet, it’s all too strange.

Suddenly the wooden barstool is much less comfortable. You readjust, crossing your dangling legs. You can hear every uneven as it leaves your body - hopefully his ears aren’t too keen.

Did you really change the atmosphere with just a few words?

Should you have assumed that this was a date from the beginning? But you were protecting yourself… 

Thank God Osamu is in the back right now. You don’t think you could handle someone else (especially your date’s brother) hearing this conversation. The embarrassment would be way too real.

“But if you’re not okay with it bein’ a date, then that’s okay.” Atsumu is quick to speak, straightening up in his chair. “I probably forgot to clarify…” He searches your gaze for any change in reaction.

Yeah, he’s probably not adept at these sorts of situations. But neither are you.

There’s a noticeable tint to his cheeks. You’re sure it must burn because your own face has already burst into flames. Great, you’ve made him feel like he’s screwed up. 

Atsumu mumbles a quiet “shit” under his breath, which would’ve found funny if it weren’t for your own pounding heartbeat.

Dammit, how can you salvage this? You might as well be fanning a flame at this point. If you weren’t careful, you could burn this entire opportunity to the ground. 

“Ah, that’s not what I mean,” You respond, waving your hands out in front of you, “I just- I don’t know, you never said anything about it being a date over text, so I just assumed it wasn’t. Not that I would mind it being one...”

If you keep talking, the words will only get more muddled. You clamp your mouth shut so as to not say anything ridiculous.

Suddenly, the blank wall opposite the blonde is very interesting. Maybe if you survive the next 5 minutes you’ll suggest that ‘Samu add some art pieces to soften the stark white paint. It might also make avoiding eye-contact a little easier.

Despite not wanting to face him, you can’t exactly ignore the man sitting an arm’s length away from you. You glance back to him, bracing yourself for a face wrought with confusion.

But Atsumu looks… amused? Relieved? The lines of worry on his forehead have smoothed back out.

Well, whatever emotion he’s conveying, it’s better than the ones you saw earlier.

“Alright, then how about you tell me whether you want this to be a date or not?”

You bite your lip in thought. Partly because a male has just respectfully asked you if you’d like to go on a date (a date you’re already on.) That, in itself, is a rare sight indeed. 

But mostly because he actually wants to go on a date with you.

Did you really meet him only a month ago? Was he ever a stranger to you?

He’s a little too friendly for that. But friendly isn’t the right word. Atsumu is understanding. And simple… but in a good way. Things are smooth like velvet when you’re around him.

You, who’s been shit out of luck over the past few years. You, who had to frantically accept a less than ideal job after moving away from your entire support system. You, who tried to abate loneliness with blind dates and Tinder matches... but only ever ended up shoving breadsticks in a bag before escaping through the backdoor of a mediocre restaurant.

After all the tears and life changes and dating apps and heartbreak, you finally have a choice that you can make by yourself without any serious repercussions.

And it’s a simple yes or no question.

“I’m gonna say, yeah. This is a date.”

A grin that could light up the city of Tokyo spreads across his face. You don’t know why he’s so happy, but it’s making your heart do somersaults in your chest.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He grabs his drink, taking another sip.

Even you can feel the earnest smile on your face reaching your eyes. 

“So, can I ask ya somethin’?”

You sit up in silent anticipation. “Uh… sure.”

Atsumu clears his throat, looks away from you and runs a hand through the waves of his hair. Given Atsumu’s display of nerves, someone watching from the outside might think that this man was either about to break up with you or propose marriage.

Thank God it couldn’t be either of those things. But your hands clasp at your thighs anxiously anyway.

“Why’d you want to see me again?”

You find yourself holding your breath, letting his question sink in. 

It’s a good question. An important question. Why exactly are you here? With him?

You’re usually better about setting your intentions before you dive into something new. Plotting out big decisions has saved your ass a multitude of times.

But this opportunity fell into your lap at the most peculiar of times.

In all honesty, you didn’t give his request too much thought. Hell, you didn’t even ask him if he’d give you time to think about your decision. 

Thinking back, you really should’ve been way more careful… but you’re already here.

You lean back into your chair and meet his gaze head-on. 

“Do you want an honest answer? Or would you rather me make something up?” You ask, a glimmer in your eye.

“Oh, yeah I love bein’ lied to, go right ahead.” He throws you a look through squinted eyes.

You laugh, “I’m assuming that’s sarcasm.”

“And you’d be right.” Atsumu’s chin sinks back into his hand, awaiting your honest answer.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, leaning back into your chair and relaxing your body.

It’s best to keep things brief - you’d hate to overwhelm him with your own life. And something tells you he has his own complicated shit to deal with. 

“I’ve had a rough few years here and my social life is about as interesting as a brick right now.” You glance over to him, “Plus you seemed a little weird. But fun.”

This is all true. But there’s so much more you’d like to say.

Stuff like, 

“You’re so easy to be around.”

“Your voice is comforting.”

“I’ve felt like shit but you’ve given me something good to think about.”

“I feel a little less lonely lately and I think it’s because of you.”

But you know that would be overstepping some major boundaries. You’d play it cool and keep your thoughts to yourself for now.

“A bit blunt, but I’ll take it.” He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey, you’re pretty blunt yourself.” You fake a frown, but can’t suppress your smile for long.

“Okay, sure, I’m not the most tactful… but you should’ve seen me in high school.” He sighs, eyes growing fuzzy with memories. 

But he’s quick to snap back to the present.

You snort. “I bet you were a hoot.”

Osamu’s voice rings from the back, “He was a lot more than that.”

So he was listening in, your cheeks burn a little at the thought. 

“Oi, shaddup, ‘Samu.” He lifts his head, calling back with a playful growl in his voice.

“I have video evidence, don’t tempt me to share it,” Osamu warns, but he gets back to business.

Your eyebrows raise. Now that’d be fun to see.

He notices your curiosity but is quick to furrow his brows. “Oh, no, no. I want you to get to know me, but not that well,” Atsumu says, slightly perturbed. 

“Not yet, at least.” He adds, after a few seconds.

Your eyes soften. 

That makes sense. 

Although, you hadn’t even expected him to show you the videos. You’d just wanted to tease him a little since that seems to be something he’s very comfortable with. You like that it’s a “not yet” instead of a “never,” though.

But instead of continuing this part of the conversation, you divert to asking his question back to him.

“Well, I think it’s your turn to tell me why you asked me out.”

And you swear you must’ve just said something ridiculous because he looks hilariously surprised. Like a deer in headlights. A jammed highway of car-headlights with the brights on full blast.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess that he hadn’t even thought about it. That or he didn’t want to tell you.

Either way, you deserve to know at least this much. You wait with your hands placed patiently in your lap and a trained indifference in your eyes.

—

Okay, so maybe he’s not the sharpest crayon in the box.

Atsumu knows he has a good reason for asking you out… he really does. 

But it wasn’t the kind of reason one could eloquently verbalize. I mean, shit, what does Atsumu do that is eloquent?

It was more of a gut feeling than anything else. 

But he’s sure if he told you that he wanted to date you based on “instinct” that you’d laugh and promptly flee the restaurant like a prison escapee jumping the walls holding them captive.

He pulls himself together because he’s sure you can sense his discomfort. He’s never been great at disguising his emotions - he’d only ever learned to mask them with nonchalance and angry outbursts… and that’s a no-go when it comes to the press. Atsumu had to drop those reactions like a hotcake.

“I…” he swallows but gives a wry smile, “Y’see… I live a bit of a complicated life.”

He scans your face like he’s searching for his next words within your eyes. But you’re must be a blank page because they don’t come to him.

“Okay, now, don’t go telling me you’re wanted for some sort of federal crime.” You tease him as your lips brush against your straw, lightening the atmosphere in the process.

Atsumu’s lips open to let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in. “Ah, ya got me. That’s exactly what I was gonna say.” He responds dryly.

“That’s so sad. And I really thought this was going well, too.” You hum and take a sip of water.

He clears his throat, loosening his shoulder with a stretch. For someone who’s lived most of his adult life in the limelight, he hasn’t had to talk about it much. People either know he’s famous or they don’t.

You’re so kind. You listen well. There’s something about you that he’s magnetized by. Something that continuously draws him back in.

So if you were to learn about his life and see him differently? It would be a door slamming into his face, sealing his fate to be a really fucking lonesome bachelor. Which is a funny concept until you are the lonely bachelor.

So what exactly is he supposed to tell you?

Out of habit, his hand reaches for his hair… but he freezes before he can run his fingers through it.

Because the words are coming to him like a lone flower petal drifting to the ground. Soft and solemn.

He asked you out because his chest hasn’t ached like this in so long.

The warmth you’ve brought him in such a short time flares inside of him; why should those flames to die down anytime soon?

Because when’s the last time he spoke with somebody new and felt so normal? He’d never craved simple conversation back in high school. Even in his early 20’s, he’d just been searching for quick flings and easy getaways - those were easy to manage and feelings almost never got involved.

But being with you is like honey to hot, bitter tea. Like chowing down on a hot meal when he’s hungry.

No, it’s not easy to explain, but your presence is somehow satiating to his soul. Osamu even said that he’s been “less of a dick” since he started talking with you, so that must count for something.

You don’t need to know all of that. That’d be really weird. But if you were already being honest with him (even if you hadn’t spilled your entire life’s story) then he can be honest with you. 

But with this groundbreaking realization comes the hard part. Saying it out loud. And while he’s sometimes smooth in terms of flirting, he’s absolute shit at explaining himself.

The words come out slow and awkward. “I’ve been havin’ a hard time with… people.” 

Okay, that’s not at all what he meant to say. 

There are a million things you could’ve gleaned from that useless sentence. ‘I have a hard time with people?’ I mean, if that didn’t sound like a red flag, then what does?

“Oh, really?” Your eyes are wide and thoughtful and he swears he sees a glint of amusement flash through them. 

Shit, this would be harder than he thought. 

“Well, dating in particular, but that’s because my life is out of wack.” He presses on, but it only comes out worse.

Maybe he should’ve taken that communications class back in high school. It would’ve saved his ass in his interviews and, more importantly, here.

You nod along, folding your arms. “Mhmm.”

It’s both unfair and such a relief that you’re finding his verbal blunders funny. 

“Okay, gimme a minute, this is comin’ out all wrong.”

“Take your time,” you smile and your eyes crinkle. “I’ll be here all night.” 

But is it possible to soften what he’s about to say? To give you something to chew on rather than a bunch of information to choke on?

Being candid with you is the only fair way to do this. If he isn’t straightforward with you, you could end up getting hurt. Even being with you here at his brother’s restaurant is a risk — he should’ve thought through that decision better too. Not that he visits his brother there in person much, but it’s still not a gamble he likes to make.

Anyway, what’s done is done. He’s just got to tell you.

Atsumu sits up, resting his clenched fists on his thighs and knitting his brows together.

“Listen, I’m not sure how to tell you this…”

You shift in your seat, mouth closed and eyes fixed on his. There’s a tension in your posture, but he tries not to let it deter him.

“But I’m...”

—

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: Teddyshoney Day 2

Author: @teddyshoney​

Share one of your strengths.

I guess one of my strengths is probably my ability to write just about anything I choose, even if I've not really consumed any other material in that trope. For example, when I wrote I Don't Date Cheerios, I had never read a badboy/Cheerios fic before, but I've gotten many compliments on how well the boys fit into their roles.

Share one of your weaknesses.

I have so many ideas, and this constantly gets me distracted. When I sit down to work on one fic, I almost always get distracted by another one. At any given time, I have multiple chapters in multiple fics open on my computer at once. That's part of what makes me so slow with updates.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

I actually really struggled with writing I Don't Date Cheerios. There was a long stretch of time where I didn't feel inspired to write, and every time I opened up the doc, I felt like everything I had written was dragging, making the story pacing incredibly slow and boring to read. Going back and rereading it now, it doesn't feel that way anymore, but I was working on it right up to the wire the week I was scheduled to post it for the Glee Potluck Big Bang, trying to get it finished and to a place where I didn't feel like it was quite so boring.

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

I think When Worlds Collide was the easiest for me. When I started out writing it, I had 12 chapters planned, I knew exactly what I was going to do, what pieces of Jayhawk-Writes story I was going to tie in, etc. But when I sat down to write it, it just seemed to flow; each of the twists and turns it took made sense and were easy to write (though surprising), and it turned out to be my longest fic yet as well as the one I think I'm most proud of.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Writing is definitely a passion of mine. I've always dreamed of becoming a famous author someday, even from the time I was quite young, and I write something, whether it's fanfic or OC every day. I love it!

Is there an episode or character or arc above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

Wellllllll...since a large portion of the material I write is inspired by the Klaine proposal, I guess I'd have to say that 5x1 is probably the greatest source of inspiration for me, specifically Blaine's line: "as if in every lifetime you and I have ever lived, we've chosen to come back and find each other, over and over again for all eternity."

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

"I think new writers are too worried that it has all been said before. Sure it has, but not by you." --Asha Dornfest

That's something I try to remember whenever I sit down to write anything, but especially fanfic. Sure, there have been a ton of stories written in the trope I'm writing, but none of them have been written the way I'm writing mine, because I didn't write any of them. That was something I had to keep in mind a lot when I first started out. In fact, I wrote it on a sticky note and stuck it to my desk.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

I don't remember the exact quote, but I once read something where someone said to "copy the greats" because they know what they're doing. The way that they phrased their advice made it sound as though they were advocating for people to plagiarize famous authors. What they really meant, I think, and should have said was, "Study the greats" or "try to mimic the greats." Don't actually steal their work.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I think I would choose Nothing Can Keep Us Apart. I love that story. It was really the first long, multi-chapter thing that I put a lot of time and effort into, and I think, with a little more plot development, it could make a great action/romance movie.

What’s your process? Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines? What are the perfect writing conditions for you?

I almost always write from beginning to end. I think if I tried to do it any other way, I'd confuse myself. I never used to, but now that many of the fics I'm writing are longer, multi-chap fics, I do a rough outline, usually like a brief summary of everything I want to happen in each chapter. My muse likes to change up the direction a lot, though, so my chapter summaries don't always end up being the contents of the chapter when I get done. My perfect writing scene would be a nice, comfy chair with a mug of hot tea or black coffee, some quiet music playing (I can only listen to music WITH lyrics because I find classical to be too distracting) and a semi-dark room so that the light from my computer is my main focal point.

***

Check out Teddyshoney’s Fics

The Adventures of Josh, Jasper, and Liza -  Blaine and Kurt are thinking about starting a family, so they decide to look into adoption. This is what happens in their two year adventure to finally start their family.

I Don't Date Cheerios -  Blaine, leader of the McKinley High bad boys is forced to join a club, and he winds up singing in front of the Glee Club. Who else would be in the audience besides Cheerio Kurt? Kurt's never been a fan of Blaine, but that's all about to change...

The Family Way -  Kurt and Blaine have been married for two years. Blaine is in his last year of college. Suddenly, he decides he's ready to start a family, but Kurt's just not sure.

[broadstbroskis]

surprises- pt 5 | mat barzal

part 4

There are babies fucking everywhere and your heart cannot take it. There are adorable little faces in huge oversized headphones staring up at you with wide eyes while they sport tiny little Islanders jerseys and logically, you know there’s no reason that any of that should make you cry, but you can’t help the tears that form in your eyes as you bounce Collins Eberle on your hip.

“And you have the cutest little nose!” You bop her nose with your finger; she giggles and you sniffle. 

“Okay.” Lauren says, appearing next to you. “I remember those days. Come with me.”

“Don’t steal your baby back!” You pull Collins closer to you.

She smiles warmly at you. “I won’t. We’re just going to talk about how you’re doing.” Lauren gentles you over to a couple of seats that give you a better view of the ice, and you settle in with Collins in your lap, just in time to watch Mat send a great pass cross-ice for Jordan to tap in for a goal. When you clap, Collins mimics the motions and that’s fucking it. You burst into tears.

Lauren is calm and patient, offering you a sip of her water and gently patting your back, as she uses her other hand to entertain her baby, and fend off tears from a second human. “So how are you doing?”

Well, things have been better, that’s for sure. You don’t think you’ve slept for more than three hours at a time for the last two weeks, which has meant a lot of naps-and thanking god that your boss has been allowing you to be flexible with working from home to do so. Every time Mat walks into the room, you immediately either want to shove him against the wall or run your fingers through his hair, which has led to some significant sexual frustration that you haven’t been able to relieve on your own, no matter how much you try.

“Not well.” You admit, settling for the tamest answer you can with someone who’s only recently become a friend. “I cannot, for the life of me, get comfortable, especially when I sleep. It’s this way, then that way, and the baby’s definitely moving now so sometimes that keeps me up or when the baby’s not moving, sometimes that keeps me up, because should they be? And then I get caught in this spiral of thoughts that just-”

“Is everything healthy?” Lauren interrupts.

“What?” You frown.

“When you went for your last scan, your last appointment?” She asks. “Did your doctor tell you everything looked good, that there was anything to worry about?”

You shake your head. “No, she said everything looked good.” And it had. The last ultrasound you’d had was one of the coolest things you’d ever seen- to see so many different parts of the baby, to know that they were growing okay, the way they were supposed to be. It’d been breathtaking. You still weren’t over it. Mat was actually speechless, for once in his life.

“Then I know this is going to be hard,” Lauren says. “But don’t worry about stuff like that. You’ll only drive yourself crazy, stress yourself out unnecessarily, and we don’t want that. Trust me.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and then reach for the bottle of water again. “They’ll tell you if you need to worry about anything, I promise.”

That’s...a really good point. “Thank you.” You tell her and she grins.

“We’re all here for you.” Lauren’s talking to you, but beaming down at her daughter. “I mean it, not just me and the rest of the new moms, because I know we’ve already talked.” You’d burst into tears when a chat of unknown numbers had started blowing up your phone and as they’d all started giving names that you’d instantly recognized as wives of Mat’s teammates, the purpose of the chat became clear: a place of support for all new moms. “This entire team. Mat’s one of our own and you’re stuck with him now.” 

You actually manage a laugh at that. “I needed that.”

“You’re just not used to it.” She grins, taking back her baby, who’s just starting to fuss at the lack of movement and stops immediately once Lauren begins to bounce her in her lap. “But as long as you remember that we’re all here for you, that it’s not just you and Mat alone in this, you’ll be okay.”

You manage to smile at her, even as tears start pooling in the corner of your eyes. You are 100% confident that you’ve cried more since you became pregnant than in your entire life before that combined. You can’t tell if it’s the tears filling your eyes that make it seem like the room is off its axis or the kindness of Lauren’s words tilting your world around, but baby-free, you reach for the empty water bottle and offer an excuse about getting another one, to leave before you burst into tears, although you’re sure she wouldn’t mind or judge.

And nope, it’s actual spinning, and you feel yourself tilting as you stand before collapsing back down into your chair immediately.

-----

“Really,” You insist, as the Islanders’ team doctor pulls his stethoscope out of his ears and reaches for the blood pressure cuff. “I’m fine.”

“You passed out!” Lauren exclaims.

“Barely!” You tell her. “I came right back to!”

She gives you a look. “Were you or were you not just freaking out about all the possible things that could be wrong with the baby and yourself?”

You hesitate. “Well yeah, but-”

“But nothing.” She tells you. “You’re going to sit and be given an all clear.”

You’re waiting for one more test, watching the start of the postgame show and sipping on a glass of water, when the door opens and Tito stops abruptly, still half dressed for the game. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” You hasten to say.

“She passed out.” Lauren tells him.

Tito rounds on you and it’s then you see the blood dripping down his eyebrow. “YN!”

“What happened to you?” You cry at him, attempting to change the subject.

He waves it off. “High stick, stitches are splitting. Don’t worry about it.”

You frown at him.

Tito grins back. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, please.” Lauren agrees. She turns to Tito. “I’ve got to go rescue Grace. Can I trust her with you? You’ll make her stay sitting, make sure she keeps drinking, tells Mat?”

“What!” You protest, but Tito drowns you out, assuring Lauren that he will, of course he will, he’ll take care of everything. 

“Tito-” You start.

“Don’t.” He says, sounding nothing like the bright and fun guy you know and love. “Don’t hide this from him.”

“Okay.” You agree quietly, already thinking about how you’re going to tell Mat.

It turns out you don’t even need to. Mat’s already heard about it through the grapevine; he’s standing as close to the door to the office as he can without physically leaning against it and as soon as you walk out, he pulls you into his arms. “Are you okay?” He demands.

You’re grateful for Tito behind you. “I’m fine.” He jokes, which does little to ease Mat’s concern.

In fact, Mat just glares at him as he tucks you deeper into his side. “I am.” You assure him, and he softens a little as he turns to look at you. “A little dehydrated and a lot tired. Just need to rest.”

“I can do that!” He says determinedly, like he’s going to personally and single-handedly fix your inability to sleep.

You keep your skepticism to yourself, only because he sounds so worried and he’s holding onto you pretty tightly that it doesn’t seem worth it to start a fight. But Tito’s got  the same look on his face, and at least you might get a few laughs out of it.

-----

Laughs was definitely the wrong thing you’re getting out of this night.

Mat drops you off and as you change into a comfy pair of leggings and oversized hoodie to hang out in, it doesn’t even occur to you that he’ll be doing to same thing until he walks back across the hall in sweatpants that hang unfairly low and a worn t-shirt that’s definitely just a little too small for him now. It drifts up showing the smallest hint of abs every time he reaches or twists or moves.

Abs you vividly remember running your fingers over. You have to look away quickly each time for fear you won’t be able to look away at all. 

It doesn’t help that Mat is straight up fussing over you. Are you comfy? Can he get you another glass of water? How about some juice? He was reading such and such last week and it said- “You read?” You blurt out, before you can help yourself.

“Of course I’ve been reading!” Mat says, sounding almost offended by the accusation. “I mean, not as much as you have, but some stuff.” You laugh, looking up at him from your spot on the couch. “Ok, it’s taking me a really long time to do it, but there’s a lot to get through! There’s so many parenting books!”

You can certainly agree with that, as you’ve been trying to make your way through all the recs that people have sent you. “I’m good, Mat.” You tell him, and then, trying to soften the blow you’d just dealt him, you pat the spot next to you. “Just come sit.”

He does, slouching down on the couch as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and rests his head against you. You tense for a moment, as the familiar scents of both Mat and his shampoo overwhelm your senses, having him that close. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” You lie. “The baby’s just moving a lot right now.”

His eyes light up and then suddenly all you see is Mat’s giant hand covering your bump. “Sorry,” He says, starting to pull it back. “Can I?”

“Sure,” You say helplessly, unable to take your eyes off his fingers, his very capable fingers, as they dance along your belly.

“I can’t feel anything.” He says, disappointed, resting his palm over your belly button.

It’s not quite where the movement is, but he’d passed over where it was and hadn’t felt anything. “It’s early.” You reason, trying to keep your voice even. 

Mat grins up at you and you almost can’t breathe at how excited he looks. “Yeah, we’ll just keep trying!” He curls closer into you. “Maybe after a nap, though.”

“Maybe.” You agree, even though there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep with Mat lying against you like this. Your thoughts are already racing and it’s all you can do to counter every memory of the nights you’ve spent with Mat before with something to calm you down.

Minimally successful. Mat’s lying there, with his beautiful bone structure and his hair keeps brushing against your nose with every breath you take, so you go to shove it away, only to be distracted, by how soft it is. Each gentle brush through the silky locks sends a fresh wave of the scent of his shampoo to your nose. It’s like whiplash, how quickly you’re going from calm to turned on, and back.

“Mmm, that feels good.” You hear suddenly and your hand freezes. “No, why’d you stop?” Mat whines and you’re not about to tell him that the smell of his shampoo makes you want to climb in his lap and do all kinds of things to him, so you pick up with it. “Did you get a nice nap?”

“No.” You grumble, before you can even think about lying to him. 

“What?” He frowns, looking like your lack of nap is the end of the world. “Well, come on, let’s-” He pats his lap as he slides over on the couch, like he’s giving you room to lie down.

But that’s absolutely not going to work. “No!” You cry, jumping up, rant starting without your permission, that definitely wouldn’t have if you weren't so exhausted. “No, nope! I can’t sleep ever, I can’t get comfortable, I can’t stop thinking about your stupid hands and your stupid fingers and your stupid penis so it won’t even matter-” Ok, you are saying a lot of things here. “And now that I have thoroughly embarrassed myself-”

“Do you really think my dick is stupid?” Mat interrupts, looking down for a moment before looking back at you.

“That’s what you took from that?” You cry. You can’t-you can’t deal with this right now. You might not be able to sleep, but you need to go to bed. You’ll toss and turn for hours if it means getting away from this.

You hear Mat stand and start to walk, but don’t realize that it’s to come after you (and not to take your hint to go home) until he grabs your hand. “Uh yeah, that’s what I took from that.” He says, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I’m not going to kiss you again if you really think my dick is stupid.”

“Truly, you could be the worst guy in bed ever and I don’t think I’d care right now.” You admit to him, as his fingers start to dance up your side. “But I was sleeping with you for three months, and I know you know that’s not true.”

He shrugs, the only move to close the distance between the two of you being his other hand coming to rest on your low back. “I mean, maybe it was just a lack of options. Stuck in quarantine, you know?”

“Mathew.” What you intend to sound like a warning comes out as more of a whine and he grins. 

“Yeah, okay.” He grins and when he does kiss you, it’s like instant tension relief.

It’s the first time you sleep a full night in weeks and you don’t even realize until you wake up the next morning, still naked, wrapped in Mat’s arms. Maybe he can single-handedly fix your inability to sleep.

[lady-divine-writes]

I’ll Be Your Mirror

A holy message ... a giant mirror ... and one insecure angel. When Aziraphale can’t find anything to love about his body, Crowley steps in to lend a hand. (2084 words)

Written for the inbox ask ‘Take off your shirt.’ 

“Angel!” Crowley strolls through his flat, double-checking new black diamond cuff links and smoothing down his velvet jacket – a relic from a time he’d thought forgotten, that he’d personally bid good riddance to. But Aziraphale mentioned it yesterday over tea, how he’d never gotten around to saying how handsome Crowley looked in it, what with all the Holy Water business going on at the time. So Crowley got out of bed before Aziraphale that morning and miracled the thing up from the dark recesses of his closet. With a skip in his step, he finds (to his utter disgust) that he can’t wait for his angel to see him in it. “Angel, we’re going to be la-ate!”

“I … I know. I’m sorry,” Aziraphale calls back, his voice leading Crowley to the bedroom, “but I don’t think I’m in the mood to go out tonight.”

“But you chose this restaurant! You’ve talked about it all day!” Crowley drops into the bathroom to steal a spritz of Aziraphale’s favorite cologne, then to the bedroom where the angel sits on the edge of the bed, dressed to go out minus his coat and vest, cattycorner to a large, grotesquely-ornate mirror – a recent acquisition from an antique shop gone under, rather unexpected when Crowley saw it wheeled through the door.

Aziraphale collects a great many things, but mirrors aren’t one. Looking at it, it doesn’t seem the kind of thing Aziraphale would own. He’d claimed he liked the feel of it, the golden scroll work along the sides reminding him of Crowley’s favorite chair. Crowley thinks (to himself, because he has no wish to make his angel insecure) that Aziraphale has been trying to add things to Crowley’s flat that are technically his but better belong. Aziraphale has brought plenty of his belongings over – books, blankets, teacups, statuettes and the like, but they get swallowed up in the vastness of the place. The starkness.

And they don’t fit. Against the minimalist décor of Crowley’s flat, Aziraphale’s homely touches stick out like a sore thumb wrapped in a comical bandage, like putting Bugs Bunny stockings on Michelangelo’s David (though, to be honest, Crowley thinks Michelangelo would have appreciated the humor).

He catches Aziraphale gaze into it then look away. A second later, his eyes inch to it again, but this time, he tuts his tongue sharply and his gaze falls to his feet.

“You’re certainly getting mileage out of that mirror,” Crowley teases, watching as Aziraphale glances into it a third time just to look away with displeasure. “I didn’t peg you for the vain type.”

It’s a joke to get Aziraphale moving. He assumes that tut of Aziraphale’s tongue was meant for him and the super tight trousers he’s wearing – trousers Aziraphale had objected to when he first saw them, but couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of when Crowley wore them home from Ferragamo.

His joke, however, doesn’t land the way he’d intended.

He sits beside Aziraphale, cozying up, but Aziraphale immediately gets up and walks a short distance away.

“That just proves you don’t know everything about me, do you?”

Crowley’s head jerks, his brow furrowing at the snap in Aziraphale’s remark. “I guess I don’t,” he admits. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I am.” Aziraphale sniffs. “Why do you ask?”

“You have … a look.”

“A look?” Aziraphale chuckles dryly. “That’s a very scientific assessment. A look.” He stands in an opposite corner with his arms crossed over his chest, staring tensely at the wall’s smooth surface. Crowley, on the receiving end of his cold shoulder, looks about, trying to get an idea of what in the world has gotten into his angel, why he’s suddenly become bitter when the night had been going so well.

Crowley doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. In fact, for the amount of time Aziraphale has spent in here dressing, nothing appears to be touched, as if he miracled his clothes on (which would be considered, by Aziraphale, frivolous, so not something he’s likely to do). He’s about to give up and outright ask him, prepared to interpret around the sarcastic remark he’s likely to get, when a second sweep reveals something so blaring he’s surprised he didn’t see it the first time. Where Aziraphale had been sitting Crowley spots a white envelope with golden angel wings imprinted on it. The seal has been broken so the letter inside must have been read. Crowley doesn’t need to inspect it closer to know who it’s from. He doesn’t intend on reading it either. He doesn’t want to invade his angel’s privacy. But whatever’s going on with Aziraphale, this dramatic shift in his mood, this has to have played a part in it.

‘Fucking Gabriel!’ Crowley shakes his head. He debates snapping his fingers and setting the thing ablaze but decides against it. Every time he thinks the guy has ducked out for good, he pops up like a rotten apple and spoils everything.

And since everything, for the moment, is their dinner plans, that letter has to be some dig about Aziraphale’s weight – maybe an official notice of inspection aimed primarily at assessing his physicality, something Gabriel no longer has the power to enforce where it concerns Aziraphale so it serves as a dig.

Petty ass Archangel.

Crowley strips off his jacket and lays it carefully aside. Then he toes off his shoes. He reaches out a hand, grabs Aziraphale by the elbow, and pulls the angel toward him. “Come here. Get comfy,” he says, leading Aziraphale gently whilst simultaneously not giving him much choice in the matter.

“What … what are you doing?”

“What are we doing. We’re gonna lie down, you and me, and we’re gonna have a talk.”

“About what?” Aziraphale grimaces as he lowers himself onto the bed, the look on his face a silent commentary on how he feels about the wrinkles that will get embedded in their clothes.

“Why you suddenly don’t feel like going out to dinner.”

“I just don’t. I thought it might be nicer to stay in and read. That’s all. Nothing more complicated than that.”

“A-ha. And this doesn’t have anything to do with that letter with the gold wings on it, does it? I’m guessing you got that, what … about an hour ago?”

“No.” Aziraphale clears his throat of his quick and outright lie. “Not necessarily.”

“Then you won’t mind telling me what it says, right?”

“I’d … rather not.”

“Okay,” Crowley says with a small huff of frustration. “Then let’s talk about this mirror.”

“What about the mirror?”

“You seem to have developed a mild obsession with it.”

“I don’t have an obsession with the mirror.”

“Then why do you keep looking at it, huh? What are you looking for?”

“None of your business.”

“That’s what you think, but that’s not the truth. Not by a long shot.”

“And why not?”

“Because I love you,” Crowley says quietly, less confrontationally. “And if something bothers you, then it bothers me – plain and simple.”

“That’s very nice of you, but …”

“But …?”

Aziraphale sinks into the mattress, his eyes subconsciously finding his reflection in the mirror.

He frowns when he does.

“Still don’t wanna talk, huh?” Crowley surmises. “How about this - I’ll tell you what I think, and you tell me if I’m right.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“You don’t have to. I know you, Aziraphale. I know when something bothers you. Let’s start with something easy. That letter you got today in its crisp white envelope and gold writing is from Gabriel, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. Simple indeed. “Yours is definitely a dizzying intellect.”

“And on account of the way you’re acting …”

Aziraphale gasps. “How am I acting?”

Crowley’s left eyebrow arches to the Heavens. “Honestly?”

“Yes.”

“Bitchy.”

“Flatterer.”

“Like I was saying – on account of the way you’re acting, I’d have to say that it has something to do with your fitness for duty … or lack thereof. Am I right?”

A beat of silence – painful silence. “Don’t ask me. I haven’t agreed to anything,” Aziraphale says softly.

“Of course you haven’t,” Crowley grits through locked teeth. “Let’s try this then – since you seem to like looking in that mirror so much, I want you to look in it. You look in it, and I’m going to tell you a few things it doesn’t show.”

“It’s a mirror, Crowley. It shows me everything. That’s its sole purpose - blunt and unapologetic realism.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it shows the important stuff.”

“And what is the important stuff?”

“How smart you are,” Crowley whispers, creeping up behind his right ear with a subtle kiss. “How clever. How kind. And you know what they say about people who are beautiful on the inside.”

Aziraphale sighs, done with this quiz show. “What’s that?”

“It makes them beautiful on the outside. And you, my love, are that and more.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“You’re just saying that …” Crowley mimics, “I don’t have to just say anything.” But his tone shifts in the blink of an eye when he says, “Take off your shirt, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale shoots a glare over his shoulder at the demon looming above him, head propped one hand. “D-didn’t you say we were late for our reservation?”

“Yeah, but I think I like your idea better - staying in for the night. I think this is more important. If we get hungry, we can order take away. From the same restaurant, I gather.” Crowley’s arms encircle him, slipping over and underneath him, his hands unbuttoning his shirt. Aziraphale peers into the mirror as Crowley peels the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms, exposing his chest and his stomach. “Look at yourself, Aziraphale. Take a good, hard look, and try to see the wonderful things I see, hmm?” Crowley kisses the back of his neck, runs black painted nails down his skin, hugs and caresses. Aziraphale watches, his blue eyes roaming his own half-dressed body, trying to find something, anything that he loves about the view. But lying on his side at this angle causes the slack skin of his stomach to settle on the mattress, making it appear awkwardly shaped, like a rotting, sagging pumpkin, twice the size of normal.

He shouldn’t focus on that. That shouldn’t bother him. His body is just a vessel, and he never used to have anything against this one. Besides, Crowley seems to like it. Love it, even. He definitely enjoys it. Shouldn’t that be enough for Aziraphale? All he’s ever wanted for this human form was someone who could appreciate it. And Crowley, the entity he loves, appreciates it.

God, does he appreciate it.

He spends long nights appreciating it.

But with a heavy heart and a shuddering chest, Aziraphale discovers no. It’s not enough. He wishes it were because then he’d disrobe with reckless abandon and indulge in the gorgeous demon licking hearts into his shoulder, mirror or no.

Or yes mirror! He would ask Crowley to make love to him from behind and watch the two of them, revel in the flush that rises in his skin, the areas that tighten the closer he comes to completion, the expression on his face, whether it’s sexy or silly or incandescent. The glow of his aura, the shadows it throws across the planes and valleys of his body, the contrast of Crowley’s body against his.

Then he’d beg Crowley to do it again. And Crowley would. Happily. As many times as Aziraphale wants, in every position Aziraphale could think to ask for.

Because Crowley loves him. He loves the angel Aziraphale. And second to that, Crowley loves his body.

Aziraphale wants to love his body, too.

But he doesn’t.

And no one, not even Crowley, can make him.

“I wish I could, but I ... I can’t,” Aziraphale whispers, a tear slipping down his cheek as he presses his eyelids shut. “I’m sorry … but I …”

“That’s all right, angel. It’s all right.” Crowley stops for the moment to unbutton his own shirt, pressing his chest against his angel’s bare back so he can feel him close. “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to. I’ll tell you all the wonderful things about you that you don’t see.” He wraps his arms around him and plants a kiss on his head. Then another. Then another. “I’ll be your mirror. It would be my honor.”

[kayuripax]

New Developments

Turns out, magic and body are a lot more malleable than people think. @bookerbluedragon, hope you like this. 😉

-------------------------------------------------------

Tinte didn't notice it, but his magic was fluctuating. Had been for a while, in fact, and in a rather interesting way too. At first it simply manifested in more doorways, one he took full advantage of. This happenstance fell during the season he usually got colds though, and these always made his magic wacky. This though, this was something else. His magic was actively transforming, adding to itself, and changing. This development went on undiscovered for a long time, up until Tinte visited Jo-jo again at a particularly slow and lazy day where the summer heat was so oppressive and stuffy in their wooden building that you couldn't help but want to escape.

"Jo-jo, I hope you don't mind me depositing this nuisance of a friend here." Atrament remarked tiredly, looking a fair bit hilarious in his set of shorts, flip flops and an ink stained shirt with what looked like watermelons printed on it.

"He keeps annoying everyone, and frankly, the temperatures back home are dreadful, and he adds to it. This way we have a nice day, he has a nice day, and everyone is happy. Please." The man begged, ignoring the pout of his best friend, who was held up by the scruff of his shirt like an unruly kid.

"But of course, I don't mind. Tinty is always welcome here!" Jo-jo remarked jovially, smiling. Tinte started smiling back involuntarily, lips twitching to return to the pout he so desperately wanted to keep up until his beloved spoke. Jo-jo had this effect on him.

"Thank whatever the hell is up there." Atrament grinned a lopsided grin, before waving and turning around with a small flourish and a magically created breeze.

"Please keep him over night or something." That remark made the two other men laugh, and a few steps away from the doorway one could hear Tinte's Wally wheeze in his own, distinct way of laughter, asking Atrament if he really just said that to Tinte and Jo-jo, which was followed by an affirmative. The doorway collapsed into itself before the two Drew's could hear more.

"So I'm gonna stay over then, I guess?"

"It seems so, sweetheart." Jo-jo laughed gently, then took her boyfriend in again. His hair stood slightly on end, the small strand that usually did so even more than usual, and his glasses were slightly askew. Something else did catch her attention though, and she squinted for a moment, before her eyes caught what was the interesting bit.

"Your soul changed, Tinty. Not in a bad way, mind you, it's just... more fluid. Like Atrament's, one of a shapeshifter and mimic." That garnered a baffled expression.

"Huh? I didn't do anything though, and neither did Atrament or Jamie..." He looked lost at the comment. How could ones soul change? That was strange.

"Could simple exposure do that? I mean, I've been basically sitting on a pile with Atrament since we were four, so..." he shrugged helplessly.

"I'm not quite sure, darling... Your worlds magic is a bit different from the one of mine, you do know that, don't you?" Tinte nodded at that, then sighed before gracelessly flopping onto the chair next to Jo-jo's own.

"That's something to think about later. We've got a bunch of time together for now." He chuckled before misusing the chair as a weird couch.

"The weather back home is awful. Like, it's okay, it's sunny and almost no clouds, but it's so warm. And the air in the studio is so horribly stuffy." He complained, gently resting his head in Jo-jo's lap. She chuckled, then began threading her hand through his hair.

"Poor, poor Tinty. Are the temperatures really that horrible for you?" She smiled, burying her hands in the raven locks of hair, her long fingers deftly threading through the strands, gently playing with them. Her lips twitched upwards even further at the meek nod, and outright laughed when Tinte flopped onto her lap entirely. Said laughter turned into surprise when the human body began to shrink and twist into itself, fuzzy black fur covering every last inch of it. A moment later she had a black cat purring on her lap, sprawled out comfortably.

"Ooh, so that happened..." she remarked to herself, having seen the flickering of aura and soul during the process. Her fingers were stroking Tinte's fur, and he just purred louder and snuggled closer, not even having noticed the process. He blinked lazily at one point, feeling so blissfully comfy, but at the same time something about the size of Jo-jo's palms felt wrong. He knew her hands were so much bigger than his own usually, but this was as good as ridiculous. When he did open his eye and saw that some colours in his vision had disappeared, and that Jo-jo's hands were threading through fur, his fur, he groaned mentally. Seems like the question of what happened did clear itself up... he closed his eyes again, then stretched his limbs further to allow Jo-jo better access to the soft fur on his stomach.

[imaginesandbillskarsgard]

A/N - The following imagine has been requested by a reader and will contain smut, fluff and everything in-between. Anything written is purely fiction and is not in any way an accurate description of Bill. The means for this writing is for the readers enjoyment and I hope you like it!

Plot - “What if bill was your best friend from 1st grade to when the reader and him graduated high school and later after all the years in college the reader and bill have a one stand” - Anon

Imagine...

The day was finally here. College graduation. The day that you’d worked your ass off for, the day you’d worried you wouldn’t get to as you cried through tears of stress and frustration, the day you would finally have a degree under your belt. You know for a fact that you wouldn’t have been able to get through it all if it wasn’t for one person, your best friend, Bill.

You’d been best friends since the first day of 1st grade when the teacher told the class to pair up with someone and you two turned out to be the last ones left. Turn’s out, that was one of the best things that could have ever happened. Since then you’d been inseparable, going through everything together.

During the early years of your friendship, your parents would often meet for coffee leaving you and Bill to wander off around the cafe playing hide and seek, or you’d be invited round to each others houses for dinner where you’d sit playing with your barbies and his action men, creating these imaginary lives for each character.

“No, you do the dishes!”, you exclaim in a high pitch voice, pretending to be Barbie herself, and mimic the voice you’d heard your own mum use so often.

“Why should I? I’ve had a hard day at work fighting the bad guys and flying round the city! I just want to sit down and eat my pizza in peace!”, Bill lowered his voice, maneuvering his action man round so that it was sat in the a makeshift chair you’d fastened with cardboard.

“Really, Bill. When will you learn that I’m the Queen around here and all you need to do is send the baddies to me, I’ll sort them out!”

“Shh, my name’s not Bill, it’s action man!”, he yelled, making you laugh which then in turn made him even more moody.

As you grew up together eventually starting high school, you both sat at the park one day with a stolen pack of Bill’s dad’s cigarettes.    

“You go first!”, he said to you as he opened the lid of the carton and pulled one out, holding the fresh cigarette in your direction. You hadn’t wanted to tell him but to be honest, you had no idea how to inhale and you were quite sure Bill had never touched one before either so how the hell were either of you meant to know how to do this properly?

“Why don’t you go first?”, you ask, an eyebrow raising.

“Cos I’m the King of Cool, baby, I’m practically Steve McQueen! I can do it easy but I think I should be the gentleman in this situation and let the lady go first”.

You can’t help but give him a small smile as you roll your eyes and furrow your brows slightly so that he can see you’re not going to give him that full on smile that he’s waiting for.

“Come on now squirt, don’t you bail out on me”, he teased, softly giving your arm a nudge. Not being one to say no you took the cigarette from his long, slim fingers, placed it between your lips and let him use a match to start the nicotine filled stick that you now found yourself taking a drag from. Slowly you began to inhale it, surprising yourself that you hadn’t made yourself cough and splutter like an idiot. This clearly impressed Bill as he looked at you with his eyes wide, lips slightly parting.

“Piece of piss”, you say, blowing the smoke into his face.

A smile creeps onto his face and he raises one of his hands to blow away the smoke.

“Cool so you passed the test, now watch the King show you how it’s really done”, he paused a minute before putting a cigarette between his teeth, lighting a match and holding it to the end, lighting it up. You thought he’d do really well but was soon surprised to see that before he could even take a proper pull, he was already spluttering like a dog choking on water.

“Not as easy as you thought it would be, eh Billy Boy?”, you can’t help but laugh at him as his eyes begin to water and he lays himself down on the floor, “Yeah Bill, you’re the King of cool, you’re practically Steve McQueen!”

After that day many more cigarettes followed until it eventually became an addiction.

As the days went by, you continued to go on more adventures together. He would often drive you both around, the windows wound down, sunroof open and your feet placed up on the dashboard with your favorite music playing. Your favorite person sitting beside you. High school came and went, the days of discovering yourselves behind you.

Then came college...

The day you had to say goodbye to Bill was one of the hardest of your life so far, you’d been pretty much inseparable since the first day you met. He’d come over first thing in the morning of the day you were moving, a bunch of sunflowers held in his hand.

His face lit up as he saw you and you thought that your expression would be the same but instead you found your face crumpling before you knew it, the tears falling down your cheeks.

He pulled you into an embrace the second he got to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter (Y/N)? It’s ok, it’s going to be ok, please don’t cry”, his voice was soothing but still the tears flowed.

By now he was rocking you back and forth, his strong arms wrapped around you and for the time that you were stood there in that embrace, you felt at peace.

“S-s-sorry”, taking a step back you wipe your eyes, “I’m being stupid I’m sorry, I’m just scared y-know?”

“Scared of what?”

“I-I’m.. I’m scared of losing you”, you can barely get the words out.

“What? Don’t be silly, you’ll never lose me, I’ll always be here for you no matter what!”

“Thank you Bill, I’ll always be here for you too. Just don’t forget to come visit me!”, you could feel the tears subsiding now and he gave you one of his biggest smiles.

“I’ll be visiting you, don’t doubt that”, he handed you the flowers then pulled you in for another embrace.

“C’mon sweetie we’d better be going!”, your mum was already in the car waiting.

And before you knew it there you were at college, blubbering like a baby whenever the stress got too much, texting Bill whenever you had the chance. That’s why when the day of your graduation came around you could hardly contain your excitement. Not completely because of the fact you were now going to be holding a diploma in your hand, but because your best friend, Bill, the guy who had said he would visit hadn’t visited in three months because of work commitments he’d had at his new job as an actor for short films. You didn’t hold it against him though, you were just so happy that today you’d finally get to see that beautifully structured, bright eyed face again.

At the ceremony as you walked up to accept your diploma you took a glance into the audience and there he was, your beautiful, sweet best friend looking as gorgeous as ever. He was beaming from ear to ear, his hands clapping as hard and fast as they could, standing up to watch you finally graduate.

“WOO, I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT (Y/N)!” his voice could just about be heard over the rest of the cheers and claps in the room, but his was the only one you cared to know about.

Once the ceremony was over he practically ran over and scooped you up into the biggest hug that he could possibly give.

“I’m so proud of you! You looked amazing”, his grip around your body got tighter and he began to spin you around. You found yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, your head wresting on his shoulder.

“Oh God I missed you so much”, you whisper into his ear.

“I missed you too, believe me, God did I miss you”, came his response.

The afternoon came and many photographs were taken, food eaten and hugs and congratulations were spreading across the room.

“Right, sweetie. Me and your dad had better get home, well done love we’re so proud of you”, your mum said, opening her arms for a hug.

Bill stood with you as you waved goodbye to your parents as they drove back to your home town.

His arm slipped around the small of your back as you started to walk back towards the party, by now you’d both already had a few to drink on the sly so took the opportunity to have a boogie while the night was still young.

“Woah the moves you’re pulling are dangerous!”, you joked with him, trying to mimic his flailing arms and un-coordinated feet as they moved around the dance floor.

“Oh I know, I’m the King baby, don’t you forget it”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and show him a smile. The music suddenly stopped and over the microphone the DJ announced that he would be slowing things down for the last song.

“Can I have this dance, m’darlin?”, Bill took both your hands into his and began to slowly maneuver one of his hands around the small of your back, the other still holding onto your hand. As you swayed underneath the fairylights that were hung up on the ceiling you couldn’t help but think that this moment was worth the wait.

“What do you say you show me up to your dorm room, I think we could both use a comfy bed to rest our feet up on”, it was coming to the end of the song now and you were almost relieved that he;d made this suggestion, you’d been awake since the early hours and you couldn’t wait to get into bed, snuggle up to Bill and watch a film.

Up in the room Bill made himself at home.

“I’ll be back in a minute, I’m just gonna take off my makeup”, you say to him, “I’ve still got a few of your shirts in the drawers over there if you wanna wear one tonight”

“Nah it’s ok, I was thinking of sleeping in my underwear if that’s cool?”

Was that cool? Your best friend was sharing the bed with you tonight. I mean c’mon, Bill. BILL. YOUR BEST FRIEND. The guy that you’ve known since the first grade, someone that of course you’d never looked at in that way, why would that be weird... Oh c’mon who are you kidding, of course you’d looked at him in that way I mean how could you not? Those chiseled cheekbones, that brown hair he swept over, his tall stance and the broadness of his shoulders, the way he hugged you on any occasion, the way that when he did it felt like home...

Fuck it.

“You know what, Bill? I think you should just sleep naked”, you found yourself saying, the confidence building up inside yourself.

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, Bill. I do”

You weren’t quite sure where you were going with this which is why it was a relief when he picked himself up off the bed and slowly started walking himself toward you. His tall frame was soon stood in front of you, at first you were too afraid to look up at him incase his first response was to shut you down completely and make you feel like an idiot for even saying what you had. Instead you found the tips of his index and middle finger lifting your chin up, his lips gently finding themselves on yours.

Oh my God, this was really happening. The moment you had secretly wished for every time you saw him, the person you truly loved and cared about.

The kiss was starting to intensify now, your lips crashing together as if they were waves in the ocean, the sound of your breathing in sync with each others as you both grabbed at the others clothing, not caring what got torn and where the item of clothing landed.

“Do you.. know.. how long I’ve wanted.. to do this?”, Bill was gasping between each word, his hands still pulling the clothing from you until you were both stood there completely naked, “God you’re so sexy”

“I’ve wanted to... do this for so... long too...”

With the kissing getting more and more intense, Bill picked you up by the waist and you took the opportunity to wrap your legs around him.

“You’re so wet already, I can feel it”, he sat down on the bed with you still wrapped around him, “I love it”

“I did tell you that I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I’m all yours”

“Good cos tonight I’m making you all mine”

The excitement was building up so much that you felt like you could burst, and by damn were you gonna make sure you did tonight.

Bill was now making his way down your jawline, to your neck before coming to your breasts. His touch was like nothing you’d ever felt before. He stood up again, this time to throw you down onto the bed and place your hands either side of your head.

“What am I (Y/N)?”, he asked.

“Oh baby, you’re the King”

“That’s right, and the King always gets what he wants”

With that he pulled both your wrists together still above your head, holding them down with one hand. His hungry lips began sucking at your nipples, causing you to gently moan. Taking advantage of this he used his free hand to glide down your waist, past your hips to inbetween your legs.

“You think that’s good? You haven’t seen nothing yet”, he teased.

His hand began to open across your vagina before you felt him slip two of his long fingers inside you.

“Oh my God, that feels so good already, give me everything you’ve got”

“Get ready, you’re about to lose your mind”

His rhythm started to pick up now, his fingers curving round inside you to reach your G Spot. The speed was faster than you’d ever expected and the pleasure only increased when he started to use his thumb to rub your clit.

“OH MY GOD, BILL!”

He wanted to tease you more so he slowed down the rhythm, not allowing you to cum as soon as you wanted to.

“Shh, all in good time”

His lips came crashing down on yours again and the speed started to increase. You tried to pull your lips away from his to let out your moans but he was in control, the only way you were going to be moaning was if you were doing it into his mouth.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Until suddenly.

“OHHH MY GOOOD BILL!”, you couldn’t hold it in any longer, you felt your legs begin to buckle and your body begin to shake, the rush of overwhelming pleasure coming over you. He didn’t stop even while this was going on so that your orgasm continued for longer than you were expecting it.

As your orgasm began to fade, Bill brought his fingers up towards your mouth which you took as an indication to suck, no objections there.

“That was just the warm up, baby, are you ready for more?”, his face was above yours, that smile you called home staring down at you.

“Of course I am, the question is, are YOU ready?

End

A/N - so there you go guys! I’m sorry if it wasn’t as in depth as you wanted at the end but I can feel my eyes slowly closing and didn’t want to leave this unfinished! I hope you enjoy it and please do request an imagine if you’d like to.

[fatesinthenight]

Wilford's Smile (part 3)

Wilford is already sitting at your table by the time you manage to get a grasp on what was going on and leave the garage. He already has a glass in front of him and a plate. As the gentleman he is he already had a napkin on his lap and is sitting upright. He looks around taking in the house then spots you walking up to him.

"You have a nice little thing going here. So cozy." He acts so casual, even if he did just broke into your house.

"Ummm thanks..." You rub your neck. "So you made yourself at home."

"I mean "Mi casa es su casa" right?" Wilford leans the chair back.

"I think that is more for when a guest is invited over and you are fine with them. You on the other hand just poofed into my garage unannounced and got comfy without even asking." You cross your arms.

"So your not fine with me?" Wilford give you a disappointed look.

"Wait no its not that. I mean I am fine with you but-" You hope you didn't hurt his feelings.

"Awwww you do like me!" His smile comes back.

"But it would have been more courteous of you if you asked me first if it was alright to stay over and order food. Its called manners." You scold him.

Wilford studies you for a moment. "For someone who said I'm their favorite outgoing crazy ego you sure are uptight."

Your face gets red. "What!"

The doorbell rings and Wilford gets up fast. "Pizza time!!" He starts heading to the door and you stop him.

"O no. I got this. Don't you think it would be weird for someone with both pink hair and mustache to answer the door?" You then go open the door.

When you see what Will ordered your mouth drops. He got three large pizzas, two boxes of wings, four bags of breadsticks, two liters of soda, and two servings of pasta from Pizza Hut. There were two people holding everything and you felt really bad for them and embarrassed for yourself.

"Dam you really ordered a lot. You throwing a party of something?" The delivery girl ask holding up the pizzas and breadsticks.

You take it out of her hands. "O no. No party here."

"Then all of this is for you?" The delivery guy tilts his head at you. He has the sodas on the ground and is holding the pasta and wings.

"Well..." You didn't want to say o this guy that barged into my house is joining me. "I just got super hungry."

"Party of two!" Wilford pops up behind you making you almost drop the food.

"O you do have company." Delivery girl looks surprised.

"The best kind of company." Will winks.

"Hmmm you look familiar..." Delivery guy thinks about it.

"Well I mean come on how can you not recognize this face?" Wilford grins.

"Are you like cosplaying Wilford Warfstache or something? My brother watches Markipler all the time. Dude you really look like him." Delivery guy laughs.

"I'm the real-" Wilford gets cut off by you shoving the pizza boxes in his arms.

"Yea cosplaying! We got this convention coming up so we are doing finishing touches on the look." You say fast.

"Well it looks pretty darn similar I can tell you that. Nice job." Delivery guy hands you what he was carrying.

Wilford come back from putting the pizza on the table to say something but you instantly hand him the rest of the food to put away. You pick up the sodas and just place them off to the side beside you. When Wilford comes back he dodges you handing him the sodas and comes up to the delivery guy.

"Would your brother like a picture of me? I think he would get a kick out of it." Wilford insists.

"Yea that out be cool. He has been down lately so this would really perk him up." Delivery guy takes out his phone.

"What's troubling him?" Wilford asks.

"O he broke his arm and he's bummed out that he can't play baseball right now. His coach had to bench him." Delivery guy feels bad for his brother clearly.

"Hmmm you know what how about you call him up now? Like Facetime. I think I got a better idea." Wilford smiles.

"Ummm sure." Delivery guy starts calling.

"We need to get back to work." Delivery girl speaks up.

"It will be fast I promise." Wilford reassures her.

"Hey dude I got something to show you." Delivery guy hands the phone to Will.

"Why hello there you scamp." Wilford twirls his mustache.

"What!! Wilford Warfstache!! Are you really him!!" The brother looks so ecstatic.

"Maybe is am.. maybe I'm not..." Will raises an eyebrow and puts a finger to his lips.

You watch him interact with this kid. The brother looked like he was maybe ten or maybe a bit younger. He looks so happy, his eyes are practically sparkling.

"I just want to tell ya to get better soon. You get back out there and hit that ball out of the park when that cast of yours come off you hear." Wilford smiles.

"Yea! I will thank you! I won't let you down!!" The kid looks so determined now.

"Well I will be seeing you in the next video. Bu bye." Wilford waves.

"Bu Bye!" The kid mimics Mark's voice.

Wilford hands the phone back. The delivery guy thanks him so much and Wilford said it was no problem at all. The guy said he was really into character and when Will said you have no idea you think o no he doesn't. Will pays the delivery girl and gives extra for a tip for both her and the guy. He closes the door then turns to you.

"So shall we dig in?" He heads to the table.

"You made that kids day. And he doesn't even know it was the real Wilford Warfstache." You say.

"O he knows." Will said casually as he already opens a pizza box.

"How do you know?" You question him.

"A real fan can tell. Besides even if I was not the real one as long as it help him get back in there then its all good." Wilford is piling food on his plate. "Bring the soda over would ya."

You look at this pink maniac. You have only known him from what you have seen in videos. A psychotic man who is trigger happy and breaks all the rules causing chaos. He does things his own way without thinking of the consequences. Spontaneous in every way never slowing down. Now seeing him go out to make a kid happy makes you think there is more to him than you think. Maybe Wilford is more than just the man you see on your screen.

[chanholland]

A Day in the "Spa"

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader Request: no, BUT REQUESTS ARE OPEN so feel free! Summary: Reader is Toms Co-Star on SpiderMan: Homecoming, and the reader and him get this last minute interview where, Tom gets asked to paint the readers nails Warning: Nada¡ well maybe a few curse words because let's just say Toms like that ;) FLuFf! Enjoy! _____________________________________________ It had only been six o'clock in the morning when you wakes up to the sound of your phone blowing up with text messages from Tom. You groan as you dial his phone number "Rise and shine!" You hear his voice fill your ears as you roll your eyes "Yap, I'm up..." you say under your breath as you sit up "You are evil Thomas." You motioned your hand as you slapped the pillow beside you "Like what is so important that I have you blowing up my phone at SIX O'CLOCK!" You try to keep your anger below average. I mean you needed your beauty sleep! Unlike him he can sleep for three hours and still look gorgeous! "Calm down, love. I can hear you from the other side of my hotel room." Tom laughs as you mimic him laughing. "Well if you got a new phone like I said you should you would have seen the 45 messages I sent you." You can hear his smile appear on his perfect face that he randomly has. "Ya funny, you know what you should get nominated for the biggest jerk of the year, or as Anthony and Sebastian say it an a-hole!" You say in annoyance as tom chuckles "Okay so we are supposed to go live on, Facebook, I think? And they said as an entertainment, I Thomas Stanley Holland shall paint Y/N "whatever you middle name is" L/N nails." Tom sniff as he starts to laugh "Wait your joking right?" You ask not sure if he was playing around or not. "No, I'm, not" Tom stops laughing as you can hear his serious tone on his voice hoping that all of this was just Tom playing around. "Oh, don't you worry! I saved you time and I already said yes to there request" Tom lights up the conversation with his excitement "TOM!" You shouted as you got cut off by the line going dead. UHHH!" You groaned as you buried yourself in the sheets and grabbed the nearest pillow and slammed it on your face. _____________________________________________ A few hours later when you were getting off the nail polish you already had on you get a call from tom. As you playfully roll your eyes you wipe off the nail polish remover on your shirt, you pick up the phone and put him on speaker. "What's up Holland." You say as you let out a sigh waiting for his response. "Hey! Um, quick question. What color of nail polish would look good on your nails?" Tom asks as you can hear his focus voice on the other end of the line. "Are you seriously at the store buying nail polish?" You ask as you grab your phone and walk outside to escape the strong smell of the nail polish remover. "What can I say, I'm taking this at heart." Tom chuckles "Ya whatever, and don't worry about it," you smiles of the thought that Tom was thinking about your nails which is totally not weird. At all. "Wait hold on, you didn't answer my ques-" you hang up cutting him off not letting him finish his sentence. It was always obvious you liked Tom, you just never liked to admit it to yourself. And if you were honest, you would still deny it, you just always felt that Zendaya and Tom were the "OTP" out of the whole cast. I mean not to mention, but some fans ship you and Tom, and don't get me started with those awkward moments where the interviewer randomly asks if you and Tom had like a love interest. But of course like a good friend you are you always denied it, you just wanted to keep things on the low. _____________________________________________ As the two of you meet up he comes up to you with a Cvs bag full of nail polish. "He-here you go." Tom grunted lifting the heavy bag of nail polish. "Tom. I told yo-" you couldn't finish before he places his pointer finger on your lips keeping you from saying anything he didn't want to hear. "Don't worry about it." Tom gives you a warm smile that makes your heart skip. "You guys are up in two minutes" the backstage crew told the both of you as you sat on these uncomfortable chairs that made your lower back ache. "Hi! I'm Jasmine I'll be your interviewer today well host, I'm not sure but hi nice to meet you!" The pretty short girl greets them as she takes a seat in front of them. "So, you guys know what's gonna go down right?" Jasmine asks as she looks at the two of you nod "Cool, okay. I'll start off with some questions, and then we'll go straight to the nails, sounds good?" She asks making sure that was fine with the two of you. As one of the backstage crew gives the two of you microphones Tom smiles as he watches you struggle with a good position to sit in. "Are those chairs good? Or, do you guys want other ones?" Jasmine laughs at your struggle as you desperately just slouch down. "Yes, please" you laugh as the both you and Tom get off the chairs as they replace them with a roller chair. As Tom puts his chair more higher leaving yours to be short. "Shall we start?" Jasmine asks as you nod not paying any attention to Tom "Hello guys welcome back! Today I am here with the beautiful Y/n L/n and the one and only Tom Holland" Jasmine motions her hands as she introduces the both of you. Tom offensively opens his mouth wide as he places a hand on his heart "Oh don't worry Tom, your beautiful to." You said with a warm smile realizing how tall Toms chair is compared to yours "Wait hold on. How come my chair is a lot smaller then yours, that's not fair." You pouted as you pull up the handle from the bottom of the roller chair as the seat grows higher. "There you go." You smiled as you find a comfy spot to sit down. "Nope." Tom says under his breath as he pulls the handle on your chair and your chair gets a lot smaller compared to Toms "Hey!" You laugh as you nudged him on the arm and you pull down his handle on the roller chair as his chair is leveled with yours "Sorry continue" you smiled as Tom watched you listen to what Jasmine said next, not paying attention to anything but you. The way you nod your head as you listen, the way your soft lips form a smirk every time you hear something of your interest, and how the lighting made you c/o/e (color of eyes) beautiful eyes glow and the color of pink shade you had on your soft cheeks just made him admire you in many ways. "What about you Tom?" Jasmine ask giving all her attention to him. HOMEBOYS UNDER PRESSURE!! "Wait what? Sorry? What?" Tom laughs biting the corner on his lip trying to hide his blush. "Who's your celebrity crush?" Jasmine repeats the question with a smile "Oh um, probably Jennifer Aniston" Tom response looking at you with a wide smile on his face. "What really, I thought it was Selena Gomez" you chuckled as Tom just looks at you with his warm brown chocolate eyes. "So Tom, I see you brought nail polish" Jasmine points at the cvs bag sitting on the corner of Toms chair "Oh no" you said under your breath. I mean you had to admit you were pretty exited to see how this goes. "So Tom will be painting Y/n's nails." Jasmine tries to give a small explanation "Wow, this wasn't planned at all!" Tom says as you laughs placing your two hands on the table in front of you. "Okay ready?" Tom asks you as you nod your head, feeling his soft warm hands gently touch yours "Okay, how do you? How do you even do this!" Tom ask as he carefully opens the nail polish. As he takes out the brush he starts to drip the nail polish all over the table. "Is this table Tom prove?" You ask as tom looks at you as he sticks his tongue at you. You always loved his childish personality, that was his way to making you laugh and smile, it was like, he didn't even have to try because you were always a happy person with a lot of energy! As his soft hands gently take yours as he carefully places the brush on your nail as he began to carefully paint your nails as perfect as he could Not gonna lie you were actually surprised that he wasn't messing up like it wasn't the best, but it was really good all at the same time. As you glance up at him he's so concentrated on your nails, you can see his eyes focus on nothing other then only painting the nail polish on your nail and not the outside of your skin. Was taking off the nail polish you originally had worth it? I mean he was doing pretty good so far. Tom POV: I think my tongue is bleeding. Great. I need to impress Y/N, I need to show her that I'm not just some cocky guy. No I need to show her that I'm a lot more then that. Wait what if I'm just wasting my time and she just doesn't like me. UH STOP TOM you got this. _____________________________________________ Tom lost his concentration as he goes way outside of the nail " fcking hell." Tom says under his breath as you laugh at his frustration. Tom looks up at you as he feels his heart skip as he realized you were already looking at him. Catching his gaze made Tom feel noticed by you, yes I know cheesy but Tom never wanted to tell you how he feels because of all the times you've dissed him, just made him feel like you didn't want anything more then just friends. He just felt like you guys were better as friends, and not to mention how many times you've dissed him just made him feel like you didn't want anymore with him then just friends. "How does it look so far?" Tom tries to change the subject. "I love it." You give him a warm smile "You know I should start having you do my nails from now on." You laugh as his smile grew wider making you feel happy that what you said makes him smile "Well, I'm glad you guys had fun. Sorry it was kinda strange." The interviewer says "Oh no it's fine." You smiled "Ya thanks for having us." Tom chuckles "Thanks for coming!" The interviewer says as she closes up the video you and Tom stare at each other awkwardly. "Well um we should get going thank you very much." Tom smiles "Thank you guys so so so much thank you, take care!" The interviewer says as she waves you guys a good bye _____________________________________________ As you guys walk out you try your very very best not to smudge your nails as Tom opens the car door for you as you look into his warm brown chocolate eyes as you admire his features, and how the moonlight and night sky reflected on his eyes and face and how the cold weather make his cheeks pink which he looked adorable! You felt as if the two of you were getting closer (Because you guys were.) And as you guys got closer, you just went for it, placing your lips on his soft dry ones, gently placing your cold hands onto his cheeks and slowly moved to the back of his head as you played with his curls and how he slowly moved his hands down your waist, it was no sloppy kiss, no it was like a kiss in a princess movie it was, perfect. As you guys kiss which felt like the most incredible hours of your life you starts to feel water falling down and landing on your forehead as the two of you slowly end the kiss you guys notice it was starting to rain as Tom looks up to the sky to see nothing but grey rainy clouds as it starts to pour the both of you laugh as you guys quickly get in the car. "That was something." Tom tries to catch his breath. "Like something straight out of a movie." You smiles as the both of you guys looks at each other and give each other warm smiles.

[peachyhyvck]

sf9 reaction to their members flirting with their s/o

request: anon: SF9 Reaction to one of their band members trying to flirt with their girlfriend

author’s note: (I changed it from “flirting with their girlfriend” to “flirting with their s/o” so it can apply to the non-female fans, as well!) enjoy!

kim inseong: tbh he’s the type to turn the whole situation into one big joke.

Inseong walked into the room to find you and Jaeyoon sitting particularly close to each other as he showed you some dumb video on his phone. He let out a loud, over exaggerated gasp as both of your heads snapped in his direction; startled by the sound. He dropped to his knees, fake crying and making his lip quiver, (like in the gif above), amplifying the dramatics by shouting,

“I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME? I THOUGHT WHAT WE HAD WAS SPECIAL! I GAVE YOU MY HEART, Y/N, WAS THAT NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU ?!”

You and Jaeyoon burst into laughter as you got up and walked over to your extra!boyfriend.

“Oh, hush you big baby,” you giggled, while playfully smacking his arm.

He then grabbed onto your leg and clung to it like a little kid begging his mom not to leave him.

“LOVE MEEEE,” he wailed, only making you and Jaeyoon laugh even harder than before.

kim youngbin: He’s the type to immediately voice his disapproval, shutting the situation down then and there.

You had asked Taeyang to give you some dance lessons, hoping to improve your skills. Youngbin was already annoyed, and somewhat hurt, that you hadn’t come to him for help instead. But the final straw was when Youngbin decided to pay you a surprise visit in the middle of one of your sessions. He carefully peered through the glass window next to the door only to find Taeyang pressed flush against your body, with his hands on your hips. You could almost see the steam emitting from Youngbin’s ears as he stormed into the room and shouted,

“TAEYANG, YOU HAVE 2 SECONDS TO STEP AWAY FROM Y/N BEFORE I GO OVER THERE AND THROW YOU OFF!”

“H-Hyung… It’s n-not wha-” Taeyang stuttered nervously.

“Save it,” Youngbin hissed before exiting the room.

That night it took you a good hour and a half to calm Youngbin down, explain to him what really took place, and how it would never happen again.

lee jaeyoon: He’s the type to unintentionally display his emotions in his expressions.

His usual playful sass alters to a purely bitter attitude as he watches you and Inseong giggle at the funny cartoons he was drawing. He won’t necessarily speak up about what’s bothering him, but he doesn’t need to. One glance at him, and his body language mixed with his facial expression tells you exactly how he’s feeling. He also becomes very curt with his replies.

“Babe, look at what Inseong made! Isn’t it hilarious?” you ask, on the verge of tears from laughing so hard.

“Mhmm,” he mutters in a very low, almost inaudible voice.

It doesn’t take very long for you to notice your usually hyper and enthusiastic boyfriend to be moping around; not uttering a single word. Thankfully, prolongued grudges have never been an issue in your relationship. A few bats of your eyelashes along with some pecks on the cheek, and all is forgiven.

lee sanghyuk: This guy… He’s an even more dramatic version of Inseong.

You’re sitting on the couch next to Zuho as he reads you some new lyrics he’s come up with. He’s spittin’ fire as you’re nodding your head to his rap; feelin’ it just as much as he is. He ends the song with a smirk on his face as you bounce up and down in place, clapping your hands, and praising him on his new composition. Your bouncing gets a little out of hand when suddenly your foot stomps down on Zuho’s, causing him to double over in pain. You felt horrible and slid closer to him, rubbing your hand up and down his back hoping to soothe him, while bending over and apologizing relentlessly. Just as Zuho was about to speak up, he was cut off.

“OH, IM SORRY! DID I INTERRUPT SOMETHING?” Dawon shouts from the doorway of the living room.

Both yours and Zuho’s heads shoot up to find Dawon staring at the two of you, eyebrows knitted, trying to put on his best angry face.

“ZUHO, MOVE AWAY FROM Y/N BEFORE I BREAK THAT PRECIOUS LITTLE NOSE OF YOURS” he roars, as he playfully stomps over to you, grabbing your hand.

He yanks you up, (not hard enough to hurt you), and drags you out of the room with him, stopping twice to shoot Zuho his best “warning” look, (as shown in the gif above), causing an uproar of giggles from both you, and Zuho.

baek juho: He’s the type to immediately shut down; giving you the cold shoulder.

Zuho watched from afar as Youngbin showed you blooper cuts from their dance practice filming. He couldn’t help the glare on his face as he observed you and Youngbin, falling all over each other as your limbs grew weak due to extensive laughter. He slouched in his chair, sulking as he pulled out his phone to play with, trying to distract himself. Everytime he heard your cackle echo through the room, it sent waves of anger and annoyance rippling through him. Even when the two of you were finally alone, he was completely quiet, blatantly ignoring you, as you had done to him earlier. It wasn’t until you begged him to talk to you that he quietly whispered under his breath,

“Why don’t you go hang out with Youngbin?”

You felt a little guilty as you realized you had completely ignored your boyfriend all day to hang out with his best friend. You apologized and wrapped your arms around his torso, nuzzling your face into his chest. You felt him let out a sigh as his body relaxed due to your embrace, while he mumbled,

“I forgive you.”

kim seokwoo: Like Youngbin, he’s the type to take matters into his own hands.

Rowoon made his way into the practice room in hopes of finding you. He left you alone for two minutes, and when he came back, you were no where to be found. Just as he opened the door, your laughter erupted throughout the room, causing his heartbeat to increase and a smile to make it’s way onto his face. You were sprawled out on the floor, and Dawon was standing in front of you, doing some of his famous impersonations. Rowoon skipped over to you and opened his arms for a hug, only to be ignored by you, as Dawon put on yet another funny face. The smile was wiped clear off his face as you hardly even acknowledged his presence. Jealousy boiled inside of him as he watched your attention remain on Dawon.

“Yeah, well, I can do that, too!” he spoke up, coming out more whiney than he intended.

He desperately tried to mimic the facial expressions and funny voice Dawon had just done, but it was so bad it was laughable; and he knew it, too.

You let out a small giggle as you told him, “Keep your day job, babe,” focusing your attention back onto Dawon.

Not knowing what else to do, he bent down and scooped you up in his arms. He ignored the protests coming from both you and Dawon, and walked right out the door. You knew from the get go that he was jealous, but you wanted to see how far you could take it. Upon telling him that, he was a mixture of both embarrassed, and jokingly annoyed; playfully scolding you.

yoo taeyang: Can someone say petty?

Taeyang woke up from his nap dazed and confused. When he fell asleep, you were lying peacefully in his arms; but now, the spot beside him was empty. The sound of “Roar” playing softly through the stereo system caught his attention as he stood up from his bed. He peered his head into the kitchen, and let out a sigh of annoyance as he watched you and Rowoon laugh while wiping batter on each others faces. He rolled his eyes before walking into the kitchen; letting out a big yawn and scratching his head.

“Look who’s finally up,” you cheered upon seeing your boyfriend’s presence, “Rowoon and I got bored, so we decided to bake a cake.”

“It looks like most of it’s on your face…” he stated, while wrapping his arms around your waist, and resting his head on the back of your shoulder; shooting daggers towards Rowoon, who didn’t seem to notice.

You giggled at his remark and explained to him the reasoning behind the mess, but he didn’t hear any of it. He was too focused on glaring at his friend. The rest of the time you and Rowoon spent baking the cake, Taeyang was right there, joined at your hip… literally… There wasn’t a moment he didn’t have at least one of his hands on you. And from then on, he made a mental note never to leave you alone with Rowoon.

kim youngkyun: Similar to Rowoon, he’ll disrupt any kind of situation he doesn’t like.

Hwiyoung had invited you over to the dorm to hang out for a little after practice. He had gotten first dibs on showering, and told you to hang tight while he washed up. He got out of the shower, and was changing into some comfy clothes when he heard you laughing from the living room. He smiled to himself upon hearing your sweet sound ring throughout the house, and hurriedly finished getting dressed so he could go and see what was so funny. His expression quickly changed to one of annoyance as he watched you chuckle at Chani making his famous duck sounds.

“Teach me, teach me!” you begged him, as you clapped your hands together.

“Chani your turn to shower!” Hwiyoung shouted as he walked into the room, grabbing your hand.

“But Inseong just got in the shower…?” he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows at the older boy.

Hwiyoung pulled you up from the couch and guided you in the direction of his bedroom - away from Chani.

“Oh did he?” Hwiyoung shouted back at Chani, as he walked hand in hand with you, out of sight.

kang chanhee: Chani’s a lot like Taeyang when he’s jealous, in the sense that he gets very clingy, and slightly possessive.

You texted your boyfriend letting him know you were at the dorm; wondering where he was. He immediately replied, apologizing and telling you that his practice with Taeyang and Youngbin had run a little longer than expected, and that he’d be there as soon as he could. 30 minutes later, Chani walked through the front door, giddy at the thought of seeing you. He made his way into the den, but stopped dead in his tracks, immediately clenching his fists at the sight in front of him. You and Hwiyoung were sitting awfully close to one another as the two of you stared at the same piece of paper. Hwiyoung had his arm around your shoulder, and that alone made Chani’s insides boil with jealousy. He took a deep breath before strolling into the room.

“Hey, whatcha guys doin?” he asked in the calmest voice possible. Hwiyoung immediately retracted his arm at the sight on his younger bandmate, who he wasn’t aware was back already. Chani took a seat right beside you, kissing your cheek, and wrapping his arm around your waist protectively.

“Hey, babe! Hwiyoung asked me to help him with his English, so I figured I’d tutor him for a bit while I waited for you. We’re almost done with the lesson if you wanna go shower real fast? You’re kinda smelly,” you laughed, jokingly leaning away from him while scrunching your nose.

His hold on you tightened a little as you leaned against Hwiyoung, pulling you back towards him.

“Nah, it’s alright. I could use a little studying, as well. I’ll just stay here until you’re done,” he replied, giving you a little smile, and another peck on the cheek.

Once you turned away, he glared at Hwiyoung, mentally vowing to never leave you alone with him ever again.

[earthtomaggie]

YOU’RE IN MY BODY Pt. 117 - HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS THAT YOU’RE DEAD?

Hey guys! As promised, here’s the new chapter for YIMB. i hope you enjoy it!

xoxo ♥♥♥

Pt. 117 – Have You Heard The News That You’re Dead?

 She lets her phone ring for at least five times. I’m pretty sure she does that on purpose to show me that I’m not worth hurrying to the phone. I tap my finger on the desk I’m sitting in front of and wait for my wife to grant me some of her time, until she finally picks up her iPhone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Maggie, it’s me,” I say with the softest voice I can muster; as if she didn’t know. “Do you have a second?”

She sighs voicelessly, showing me just the right amount of annoyedness. “Only a second. Noah and Ellie are at the playground with their Nanny but they should be back any minute.”

She’s such an über-mom and domestic… when I met that young, ambitious journalist I would not have thought that she might turn into this. “I need a favor. I… I have to go to the hospital.”

“What?” Is that concern in her voice? I’m not sure. “Why?”

I take a deep, dramatic breath. “My back is killing me at the moment. And my doctor wants me to get some tests done to… exclude some things.”

“Wha- I mean… what kind of tests?”

I shrug, even though she can’t see that of course. “Some blood test, an MRT, X-rays, stuff like that… You know how much I hate that stuff, and I’m scared of… well, I wondered if you might come with me, to hold my hand and… you know. Moral support.”

“I-uh… I’m sorry you’re having health problems again… But, I don’t think-“

“Please. I need you for this. I can’t do it without you!”

She releases her breath slowly, and I can tell she’s debating it in her head. “Alright, then,” she thankfully leans towards the right decision. “When is it?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Ugh, Jared… Why can you never plan ahead, why is it always on short notice with you?!”

“Sorry, they just told me the day this morning, it had nothing to do with me.”

She whispers something underneath her breath, then I hear some rummaging in the background. “The kids are back, just text me when to be where, and I’ll sort it out. I have to go!”

“Thank you. I love you, Maggie.”

She just groans. “Yeah, sure.” Then she hangs up.

I stare at my phone for a moment. Was this a victory now for me? Or will I regret this? I’m not sure anymore.

  The sun is shining brightly in typical Los Angeles fashion. I ignored the heat and dressed in a comfy hoodie and comfy pants; both printed brightly, both provided to me by Alessandro. I park my car nearby and try to walk through the pain in my back. I’m slower than usual; I like to walk as fast as I can normally, but lately it’s a struggle putting one foot in front of the other.

I get to the plaza where the small private hospital is that Doctor Rider usually does these tests at. For a moment I stand by the fountain in the middle of the open square and let the spray hit my face, while a couple of kids run past me with ice cream cones in their hands. I follow them with my eyes and find a beautiful woman standing there. The way she stands there with her arms crossed over her chest and her sunglasses on her nose I can tell… she’s not in the best mood.

I slowly approach her, and maybe even overdo it with the hunching. She hasn’t seen me yet, so I get to stare at her for a few moments. She got a haircut apparently; her hair falls in soft curls around her face, being only a little shorter than before. Her bangs have adjusted; she looks a bit like Wonder Woman. I love it. She’s wearing light ripped jeans and an off shoulder white blouse-shirt. The ache in my chest is back; I miss her so much.

“Hi, baby.” I smile brightly for her and kiss her softly on the cheek. She doesn’t respond to it, but she doesn’t push me away either. I can’t see her eyes through the sunglasses, but I can tell she’s sizing me up. Slowly she takes off her sunglasses. There’s pity in her eyes and she puts her hand on my arm.

“How is your back, Jared?”

I would prefer it if she’d hug me, or kiss me, but this is a first step! "I’m trying to treat it with ice, but it… it’s painful, and I won’t deny it.”

Together we start strolling towards the entrance. She has her arms crossed over her chest still, but she’s looking at me with worry in her green eyes. “Has the doctor said anything about… what it could be?”

I hesitate. Taking her hand in mine, I kiss it tenderly to gain some time, then I smile reassuringly. “Let’s not speculate, okay?”

She seems shocked, her hand presses against her throat. In a surprise move, she hooks her arm underneath mine and lays her hand onto my echelon tattoo while we walk inside. This is going better than I expected, better than I dared to hope.

The door opens automatically and opens the way into the lavish hall. A waterfall is behind the reception desk which is made of marble, just like the floors. There’s plants everywhere, but they don’t cover the stench of ‘hospital’, even if it’s just a private one.

“Jared Leto, I’m here to get some tests done for my back.”

The receptionist, a blonde young thing with bright LA teeth and a white dress that’s too tight and too deeply cut smiles at me, ignoring my wife behind me. She leans forward and pushes a pencil behind her ear. “Yes, first of all, we should get you out of those clothes, so that we can… examine you.”

My eyebrows rise and I painfully smile. “Yeah, well… where would I go for that?”

“Let me show you the way and I can lend a hand.”

I don’t think I have ever met a woman that’s so brash without even blushing. I turn my head to look at Maggie for a second. She’s just standing there with her mouth open, completely taken aback by what’s transpiring in front of her eyes. She shakes her head slightly to get out of her trance, then she takes an affirmative step forward. “He’s a big boy, he can take his clothes off without anyone’s help. Just tell us where to go, please.”

Miss Receptionist looks very disapprovingly at my wife, but then she folds and sends us to the first room down the hall on the right. Maggie walks me down the hall, but she doesn’t come into the changing booth with me. I don’t mind that though. One step at a time.

A few minutes later I come out, dressed only in a long white gown, my sock and my slippers. Maggie sits in a chair in front of the door and when she sees me, she laughs. Her clear, beautiful laugh is contagious, so I grin and twirl in front of her, only to groan in pain afterwards, pressing my hand in the small of my back.

“You look like you broke out of an asylum, with the beard and the hair and all,” she smiles and cocks her head. I mimic her gesture and lean against the wall.

“There was a time when you didn’t mind that at all.”

She slowly shakes her head, but her smile doesn’t cease at all, giving me hope. “Let’s not go there right now, please.”

Another nurse approaches us. She’s a bit older, a bit more mature, and she has a modest smile on her lips. “Hello, Mr. Leto?” I nod. “Hi, my name is Lisa and I’m going to accompany you to your tests and exams, and in the end the doctor will take a look at your back again.”

“This is my wife, she’ll come with me if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Lisa smiles and gives Maggie her hand to shake as well. We follow her to a room down the hall where she tells us to sit. “Alright, first I’m going to take some blood, then we’ll take an X-Ray and then I’m going to ask you to get into the tube for an MRI. Alright?”

“Sure,” I smile and offer her my left arm. While she stanches my arm, Maggie gets to her feet again and walk towards the window, looking down onto the square. “Where are the kids today?”

“With the Nanny. They have their swimming lesson today, so she took them there and later they’ll go for ice cream.”

I nod. “Maybe I can see them later?” Lisa glances a look between me and my wife, but she immediately concentrates on her work again, like a true professional.

“We’ll see,” she says non-committedly while watching the bustle outside. “Let’s see how long this all takes.”

It takes a long time. After taking the blood, Lisa leaves us for almost half an hour until she gets me for the X-Ray. After injecting me with some radio activity, she takes me back to the room where Maggie waits and leaves us again with two cups of tea.

Maggie and I don’t talk a lot. She’s focused on her phone, scrolls through endless tweets and emails. I slowly pace up and down in the room. I hate waiting. And sitting still hurts basically as much walking around, so I’d rather be walking.

“Have you heard anything from London,” I ask her while staring onto the ground, not looking at her. “Did you get the job?”

“They haven’t decided yet. I’m still waiting.”

I sit down next to her for a moment and smile softly at her. “Can’t you reconsider? I think there’s a real chance you might get a similar position in New York. I’m sure we can find something. I thought I might ask Alessandro if he could pull some strings, and then we could see each other more often. Of course, I’d love for you to stay here in LA, but if that’s not possible for you, at least…”

Maggie sighs and looks around for a moment, then she cocks her head. “I’ll think about it, alright? I’m not promising anything, but… I’ll think about it.”

We both nod and for a moment, I feel like we’re back in that loving relationship, trying to pull through together. I have an overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms to kiss her; a year ago we might have taken a risk and fucked on the doctor’s desk. Maybe we can get there again? Not to ruin the moment with any more conversation, I get back up and start pacing again. Maybe it will all be fine somehow. Maybe.

“Jared,” I hear from behind me, only a small voice coming from the woman I love. “Jared, is there a chance you have cancer? I know what an MRI is used for, what are you… are they searching for a tumor?”

I turn around, cross the room as quickly as I can and cup her face with my hands. In her eyes is pain, I can see it, she’s scared for me. I kiss her softly and caress her cheeks while I try to look reassuring. “Maggie, I-“

“Jared,” Lisa pops her head back into the room. “We’re ready for your MRI.”

Together we walk into the room and Lisa tells me where to go and what to do, and she gives me some ear pieces. “Here you go, just get comfortable.”

When I look to the side, I see Maggie sneaking some pictures of me. She has a weird little smile on her face, but her eyes are still sad. I’d love to take her into my arms right now and comfort her, but I won’t. This needs to be done. I groan with that sweet relief of passing pain when I’m flat down on my back, and glance towards Maggie again, but she’s already leaving the room together with Lisa.

The time in the MRI is hell. It’s too confined, it’s too loud, it’s too uncomfortable. I hate it. When I get out I try to shake it off a bit, but it’s too painful to properly move. Lisa leads us back into the room without leaving us alone this time, and now Dr. Rider is standing there with his engaging smile that’s always promising the world.

“Jared, it’s good to see you. And I see you brought your lovely wife.”

“Yes, this is my wife Maggie,” I proudly introduce her and they shake hands.

“Mrs. Leto it’s so nice to meet you. Trust me, your husband is in good hands. Why don’t I have a look at this and then we know what’s what?”

He examines me thoroughly, looks at my back, feels my spine and the surrounding area, tells me to breathe, bend and whatnot. Then he looks at the X-Ray and the MRI. All this time, there’s no conversation, no clue to what he thinks; and yet my heartbeat is going so fast, I’m surprised they can’t hear it. It all went alright so far, but now it could all go to shits.

“So what happened, Jared? What rock did you fall off?”

Oh no. This is not how he should have brought it up. I would have loved for him to ease into the topic, but now… I can feel Maggie’s eyes burn a hole into my head. “Uh, what?”

Dr. Rider holds up the MRI and points towards a dark spot on the picture. “This is a lesion on your back, which looks a lot like a violent tear in your tissue. And since I treated you constantly for flesh wounds and the like that you received while rock climbing somewhere in the desert, I assume you also got this injury while doing that?”

My face is burning. This is embarrassing. For some reason, every aspect of making Maggie think I might die seemed perfect and well thought out, but somehow, I didn’t plan for this situation at all. “Well, I- I- the thing is…” I stutter until Dr. Rider arches a brow. “Yeah, I guess.”

I crave death. From the corner of my eye I can tell that Maggie looks at me with the most content I have ever seen. I’m sweating and blushing and I’m ashamed to the bone. I hardly hear the rest of what Dr. Rider says, I hear something about ice and pain killers and I can hear him mention my tour and stuff, but other than that I’m busy trying to force the ground to open and to swallow me whole. I only wake up again when Dr. Rider gets up and offers his hand for me to shake and says “I’ll call you with the blood test result.”

Maggie shakes his hand as well with a disturbing smile. “Thank you, Doctor, you definitely cleared up a lot today!” He looks a bit confused, but doesn’t comment and instead opens the door for us. As soon as we’re out of the exam room, Maggie starts stalking quickly towards the exit.

“Wait, Maggie! Stop!” I can’t run after her in this weird night gown, so I grab her by the arm. She turns around and the look in her eyes says she’s considering murdering me. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You fucking asshole,” she hisses, pushing her finger into my chest. “You made me think for the last two days that you’re about to die! I thought you had cancer! I thought I’d have to bury you soon, while in reality you went CLIMBING AGAIN AND FELL?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

“I’m sorry, baby, but… they did the tests to prove that this is what it actually was! I didn’t know until now.”

“But that’s what you suspected, you ass! And you wanted to take advantage of me being afraid, so that I’d be more willing to try things again or go to New York and not London! You are a manipulative, mean, shameless-“

I take her finger and hold on to her hand when she tries to pull away. “I did it because I love you, and yes, I want you back, but… I did it for the right reason!”

“No, you did it because you didn’t get what you wanted any other way! Do you know me so little that you think you can regain my trust by treating me this way? By lying to me, again?! Seriously, go fuck yourself!”

With that, she turns around and storms past the people in the lobby staring at us. I dash into the changing room, the adrenaline and panic letting me forget my pain for a moment, and get back into my normal clothes to hurry after her.

I push open the door leading outside onto the plaza  and look for her between all the kids that are still here and other people hurrying past. I look left and right, but I wasn’t fast enough. Maggie is gone.

[castawxayaway]

One Sided: A Twitter Series, Part Four

Much longer part today, story is developing now so I’m excited. Thank you for the love and asks- enjoy!

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

masterlist 

6:55am, 26.7.16

Waking up after having less than two hours of sleep is never easy, especially when you commit to do something that requires leaving the house at 8am. Forcing the heavy duvet that consumes me and calls my name that mutters sweet nothings into my ears in attempt to convince me to stay I sit upright, instantly regretting it. The usual dragging feeling spreads through my body, the heaviness from lack of sleep returns and the lamps still being visible through the blinds never makes me feel happy. 

Placing my feet against the bitty carpet goosebumps become visible as they wrap themselves around my bare legs, the cold air attacking my exposed skin with all it had and the urge to be warm under the duvet was irresistible. I hold onto the duvet, the constant battle I have with myself everyday, regardless of having commitments or not. 

It’s been too long now, yet no one gets it really- I’m not tired, I’m exhausted and done. Taking my phone off of charge I slip on my Dad’s old fleece I sort of permanently borrowed, despite how ugly it is you can’t beat the comfort and thickness of it. Heading downstairs for breakfast I scroll past notifications, see if anyone has answered my messages- not that I’m expecting to see Ashton on my feed, as if. 

Clicking on my messages I see three new messages, all from Maddie. Maddie had a bit of a habit of rant texting or ensuring I know of all the plans and details for the day ahead. 

6am: So I will see you on the bus at 8:10 as I’m getting on a different stop. 

6:02am: Why aren’t you answering? You are always on your phone. Ugh, the others know so just meet them at the stop. 

6:09am: How are you anyway? 

Laughing to myself I shake my head at Maddie’s messages, always as frantic as ever before, but that’s friends for you. Slowly I got ready for the day ahead, knowing it would be a long one and the wait for brunch would be excruciating considering the rumbling of my stomach now and it’s only 7:10. 

Groaning I pick up my phone and aimlessly scroll through social media as I sip at my tea before heading upstairs, phone still in hand and the same four apps to rotate between. Putting my phone down I quickly get ready knowing how early Emma will be and Spencer will shortly follow. 

7:18am: Hey guys, don’t worry I won’t be late- I’ll see you at the bus stop at 7:50?

Following my message to the group they all reply within minutes, consisting of ‘sure you will’ and ‘hurry up.’ I roll my eyes and pick up the pace, knowing they are as eager as me to eat something. Just as I finish getting ready and grab my bag I run down the stairs, grab my boots and slip them on and yell a goodbye to my parents. 

As I close the front door behind me I sigh, seeing the sky still laced with the remainder of the night as it begins to fade away and be replaced with the colours of joy and new beginnings. Wishing I had opted to wear jeans over a skirt I wrap my jacket tighter around myself and plug my earphones in, shutting the world out. 

The short walk to the bus stop allows me to think about a few things, different things than the thoughts that occur when I can’t sleep. I play over what happened last night and pause, did that actually happen? Feeling for my phone in my pocket I pull it out and click on the app, praying it was just a dream, but what if I actually said that to him? Why would I think he’d care? 

My fingertips tremble as I press the small envelope and see at the top of my messages; 

You and ASHTON IRWIN. 

“What?” I mutter to myself as I stand on the edge of the curb, completely confused and slightly proud of myself for managing this, pulling something off so unlike myself. “Right, right.” Nodding I continue walking and daydream about what I could write to him, should I even write to him? Is that weird? 

Shaking the thoughts away I near the bus stop and see no other figures hanging around. For once I’m the early bird outside of her nest. I lean against the frame of the small shelter patiently waiting for them to turn up to join me, glancing up I see the glowing orange writing on the screen, ‘TEN MINUTES.’ 

Debating in my mind what to say I look either side of me, I mean, no one is here to judge me so why not? 

7:52am: Hi Ashton, morning I guess. 

7:52am: Actually I have no idea what time it is for you right now, but if it’s night time as I’m presuming I hope you’re sleeping or just relaxing. 

7:52am: Thank you for well, nevermind. 

“Woah, you’re here before us?” Emma laughed as I slipped my phone back into my pocket and turned to face her. Shifting my focus from her I saw a car park opposite and Spencer climbed out, talking to Adam- her boyfriend since we were kids. 

Shrugging my shoulders we both sat down on the awkwardly thin bench angled to ensure discomfort whilst we waited for the bus and Spencer, both betting which would arrive first. 

8:01am: Hey, you almost here? 

8:01am: We’re just a few minutes away, upstairs towards the back of the bus Maddie :)

8:01am: Good as I’m cold and got a lot to tell you. 

As always Maddie has a story, I show the message to the others and we all share a knowing look. “Why am I not surprised?” Spencer speaks up and laughs lightly to herself. 

Once Maddie gets on and clocks onto where we are sat I move along to the window seat. She sits down next to me exhaling loudly, less than 2 seconds and she’s already irritated by something, I think this is her personal best. “Everything alright Mads?” I speak up and look to the others who shake their heads and turn to have their own conversation, meaning it’s up to me to take the weight of her troubles yet again. 

“Ugh it’s just this bus and how it was late and it’s raining.” I could see her lips moving and the faint sound of her whines but my ears wouldn’t tune in to the drabble she spoke. 

No matter how hard I tried to tell myself to listen I couldn’t help but zone out, not that Maddie would notice as she is too wrapped up in her eventful morning, all two hours of it. “-and then he finally let me on.” Lifting her hands up in annoyance she just scoffed, I assumed she finished and I shook my head, trying to act as if I knew all she said. 

“Awful.” Trying to mimic her tone she nodded in agreement. 

Problem with being the one who doesn’t sleep means when others can’t sleep I’m usually the first person they turn to, and the one they confide in. Yet most of the time I can barely focus on their written words, what bothers them about petty things. Instead all I can think about is the bigger matters, life, death, the future, the inevitable, anything else. 

Maddie turned to talk to Spencer and I happily observed life outside of the bus window. Dotted in rain droplets it altered my vision and perception of how everything was that we passed by in a hurry, from Mums with push chairs to teenagers listening to music and elders hand in hand; just life. 

8:26am: Ever think about life on the road? What you see outside and how you can’t interfere or be apart of it, no matter how badly you want to? 

Sending the short message I lock my phone again, unsure why of all people to talk to I opt to a dead end rather than Maddie, Emma, Spencer, Anna even. Zoning out entirely as my eyes fixate on the droplets of rain and how they have clung to the window like cement Maddie taps my shoulder as she stands up, getting off of the bus. 

Once we get outside we walk down the road to the cafe which is unexpectedly bigger as you go up the narrow creaky staircase and past the old movie posters and local acts performing in the theatre. The smell of pastries and coffee beans brings a smile to my face as we find a table quickly, relaxing into the comfy wooden back and plump cushion I sit on. 

“Chocolate tea or plain tea?” Emma asks as she is intrigued by the idea of chocolate tea, something so unheard of her green eyes glisten with pure fascination.  

Maddie rests her head in her hands, “Be adventurous.” 

Emma and Maddie go first to order, leaving me and Spencer to wait a little bit longer. “How many hours last night?” She spoke up as I rubbed my eyes. 

Spencer has known me since we were 2, our Mums went to the same Doctor and somehow met there. I’d always known her but was never close until we were around 10, from then on in we’ve been inseparable- except when she’s with Adam. And since she has known me for years she knows me inside and out, being one of the few to know about my sleep problem. 

Sighing I cross my arms on the table and bury my head in the soft darkness for a little while, drown out the chatter of the early morning. I simply raise two fingers up and hear a loud sigh. “You need to tell someone about it, it’s gone on too long.” I ignore her comment as always, what good will telling someone do? Last time I tried to tell someone it didn’t go so well as they didn’t believe a word I said and blamed it on lack of exercise. 

Lifting my head up I gave her a small smile, she knew I wouldn’t talk about it unless it was in a jokey manner. Truth is it hurts too much. 

Maddie and Emma come over laughing and sit back down, “Bless him must be his first day on the job.” Emma chuckled. 

“What happened?” I spoke up wanting to find a way to feel more energised, if anyone could make me feel jolly and distract me it would be these guys. 

Emma nodded to Maddie who struggled to hold back her laughs, “We think there’s a new barista there and we ordered chocolate tea and he, he picked up a carton of milk and didn’t know the lid wasn’t on and he spun it around and-” I could see her cheeks tinting red, the luminous colour of the raspberry sauce displayed next to the menus on our table. “it went all over the counter, the coffee machine, partly on him and.” 

“and the cashiers back.” Emma finished as Maddie hid her face only showing her shoulders going up and down. “Oh, the look on the cashier’s face just said it all.” Emma shook her head and pulled a very fed up and pissed off expression, I glanced over to Spencer and she shrugged her shoulders whilst the other two were unable to control themselves. 

“Well,” Spencer stood up and looked my way, “we better go order something to eat, I can hear your stomach from here.” She motioned for me to join her and we headed down the creaky stairs in silence towards the chatter of plates and whirring of the coffee machine. 

As we queue up I glance up to see the enlarged menu above the coffee machine splattered in milk and can’t help but nudge Spencer to see. Both of us share a mischievous smile until I’m called to the counter, unaware of being next in line. “Hi, how are you today?” I speak up, fighting back the tiredness that is lacing around my eyes and trickling through my body, making it feel heavier than it is. Talking like this, small talk can help, fight the urge to close my eyes and embrace a positive conversation- no matter how short it may be. 

“Oh.” I hear him speak up and as I look up I smile to him. Hair the colour of a strongly brewed cup of tea and eyes as bright as the green grass I wish to see in the summer along with a shy smile he wears. “It’s erm, it’s been good- well besides spilling milk everywhere.” He lets out a nervous laugh and I do the whole smiling to myself and look at my feet then back at him thing, something I do to break eye contact before it gets awkward. 

“You’re the milk person then, guess the cashier went to change?” I joked and he laughed in response and leant over the till. 

His face was close to mine and up close I could see the flecks of amber running around those green eyes, it was unusual, but I liked it. “He was trying to impress the girl he was serving and I sort of screwed up his plan when she burst out laughing at him.” I chuckled in response as he smiled brightly at my laugh. “You have a great laugh.” He beamed to me and I moved away from the counter, leaning my hands against it as I focused on the menu board above. 

“Can I get the summer berry pancakes and a breakfast tea please?” I moved the conversation on as a wave of sleep smacked me square on, the desire for food and caffeine increased and I felt someone touch my arm. Turning I saw Spencer look at me with concern, I merely shook my head and she took her hand away. 

The milk guy told the others my order and then focused back on me with a bright smile, one that wasn’t there two minutes ago. “Do you have a stamp card?” I raised an eyebrow to him and he picked one up. “Here, let me just stamp this and basically if you come back you collect stamps yada yada yada free brunch.” My eyes went wide with excitement at the thought of free brunch, I knew I must’ve looked like a kid in Disneyland but one can never say no to free food. 

“I’m always up for free food.” I cannot hide my smile as he passed me my stamp card and I slipped it into my purse. Looking back to him his smile was gone and replaced by a disheartened expression. 

“I’ll erm, your food will be brought up to you. Enjoy.” He waved me off with less enthusiasm and I wondered what happened in that split second, shrugging it off I headed back upstairs and was quickly followed by Spencer. 

“You know,” She spoke up as I kept on walking up towards the window on the landing before the next flight of stairs. “you’ve never been good at knowing when a guy flirts have you?” I can feel my cheeks burning up and shrug it off. 

“He wasn’t flirting Spencer, not everyone is instantly a flirt just because you are.” I joke and continue walking on up towards the others. 

“Oh come on, you didn’t see the smile he had, how he complimented your laugh or how he looked at your eyes with a similar look Adam has at doughnuts. 

Stopping I turn back to face her, “You’re comparing my face to doughnuts?” Sighing I continue walking towards our table as she apologises profusely, realising the poor example she used. 

Everyone continues to chatter whilst I check my phone quickly and type a short message, needing to get it off my chest. 

8:47am: Ever been compared to something less than complimentary, degrading even? 

8:47am: As I was just compared to a doughnut, morning off to a good start. 

Smiling to the message I lock my phone and see all eyes focused on me. “What?” I ask and they still keep their eyes fixated on mine, an element of curiosity about them. 

“Why are you smiling to your phone, you normally get annoyed by it.” Emma speaks up and I place it face down on the table. 

“It’s nothing really.” I say but Maddie and Spencer raise an eyebrow, then all three of them move closer, clearly not buying it. “Fine.” Sighing I move my hair out of my face and rest my head in my hand. “I am messaging Ashton Irwin.” I state it as if it were nothing exciting, so bluntly it could not even cut butter. 

They don’t respond immediately like I expected them to, instead they stay quiet and wear similar perplexed looks. “You know, Ashton the drummer?” I try yet they still seem non responsive. “From 5 Seconds of Summer?” Then they let out a small ‘O’ and then nothing. 

“How the hell did you get to message him of all people?” Maddie asked completely shocked and almost in a state of disbelief. 

I began to explain a condensed version of last night, missing out on the insomnia aspect and more that I just couldn’t get to sleep and by the time I was finished it seemed as if no one believed it. “That sort of thing doesn’t just happen, come on.” Maddie looked away awkwardly and I glanced to the others but they too avoided eye contact. 

“Well I’ll show you.” Just as I went onto Twitter our food and drinks came. “I’ll show you later.” I piped up as my mouth began to water at the sight of fluffy pancakes drizzled in a berry compote and fresh berries between stacks. 

As we headed down the stairs of the cafe we thanked the staff and headed on out. “Miss? Erm berry pancake person?” Someone apprehensively called out and the four of us turned around, slightly confused as to why we were being summoned. “You.” He pointed to me and I felt insecure and worried as to why I was being pinpointed. 

“Did I do something wrong? I did pay!” I exclaim as I begin to search through my purse for my receipt, Spencer agreeing with me stating how she saw me pay. 

“No no Miss, it’s nothing to do with that!” He faffed in front of my purse and I held it to my side, letting out a sigh of relief. “Just, just check your stamp card, you’ll thank us later.” He smiled and wished us a good day and headed back inside the cafe. 

We all looked at each other with confused expressions, “Well that was weird.” I joked and continued walking yet the others remained stationary. “What?” Lifting my arms up they all focused on my purse, not saying anything. “Yeah like there’s something on my card out of everyone’s.” I mumbled under my breath as I pulled my stamp card out and saw the small tea shaped stamp, the others quickly huddled around. “See? Nothing.” I passed it to them and continued walking with not a single care as I was awake, wide awake. 

“Call me, Daniel?!” Spencer yelled and I turned on my heels and saw the shocked expressions on their faces. Titling my head she held it up and I took the few steps towards it and saw a name and a number scribbled down. “The milk guy do you think?” She beamed and I shrugged my shoulders taking it in my grasp. 

“I, I don’t know.” I mumbled and put the card in my pocket next to my phone, “guess I’ll find out later.” Smiling to them we walked on, hoping to enjoy this short burst of sunshine before the clouds form again. 

[drewebowden66]

51 Captivating Courtyard Designs That Make Us Go Wow

A captivating courtyard design provides a modern home with a special sense of serenity, and allows nature to become a major part of a home’s makeup. Enclosed garden spaces act as personalised nature retreats that feed into adjacent interior spaces via the blurred boundaries of glass walls, retractable doors and atrium ceilings. To explore these glorious spaces a little more and look at the different ways in which they can be implemented, we have put together a vast collection of inspirational designs taken from all over the world. From South America to Spain to Sri Lanka, from Africa to Japan to India, we cover them all.

Architect: Jared Della Valle   Twinning is winning: Why settle for one courtyard if you can have two? It’s hard to distinguish the boundaries in this amazing modern home – and that’s kind of the point. Courtyards on each side of a walkway bring nature smack into the centre of this living space.

Architect: Figr   Extend the same interior ceiling finish out over an exterior courtyard design, like this continuous wood slat ceiling that completely disregards the border.

Architect: LIJO.RENY.architects   This is part of a gorgeous Indian home split by a covered garden atrium. A density of indoor plants grow in the vicinity of an interior stairwell.

Visualizer: Tarek Ali   Make a courtyard part of the decor. This highly tailored courtyard design looks as though in disguise as a botanically patterned area rug – though the tree growing out of it is a bit of a giveaway.

Visualizer: OMA   You will be surprised to know that this is in fact a cancer care building in Scotland. The Royal Incorporation of Architects, in Scotland, named it as the best building in the country back in 2012 for its bold and welcoming design that is so unusual for the healthcare industry.

Architect: Hiroshi Nakamura & NAP   Light it up with lanterns. This Japanese home has lanterns dotted around its courtyard patio to provide a magical glow at twilight.

Architect: XTEN Architecture   Make the most of an exterior courtyard by including some modern outdoor chairs into the layout, or add a full dining suite for al fresco dining opportunities.

Visualizer: NOTT   Everybody loves a bit of rock ‘n’ roll – incorporate some big rocks into the courtyard landscaping for a strong architectural effect.

Designer: Harrison Landscaping   Create different levels. By adding decks and platforms to your layout you can define eating areas or an outdoor kitchen. Decorate courtyard decks and patios with potted plants or raised plant beds.

Designer: Jungles   Make a frame with plants. A low maintenance patio can be framed by dense borders of greenery.

Designer: Handman Associates   If green borders still sound like too much maintenance for you, then how about a softly bubbling water feature to create an atmosphere of zen instead?

Designer: Corbin Reeves   A contemporary outdoor fireplace is sure to give the wow factor. This hearth extends almost the full length of the courtyard between two pebbled plant beds. The plant in the left corner is the European fan palm.

Architect: South Coast Architects   Romance a special Señorita or Señor in a Spanish courtyard. You can flamenco dance the night away around the columns of romantic arches – try not to fall in the water feature though.

Visualizer: Davide Weber   This rather fancy visualisation was one of the entrants to an Evermotion Secret Gardens competition held in 2016.

Photographer: The Blonde Abroad   Take the plunge. You can take a quick cooling dip in a plunge pool at the centre of this moroccan design covered with green and white tile. Comfy sun loungers invite you to stay all day.

Visualizer: Sasha Gnativ   Even a narrow space can be transformed into a magical spot. Incorporate plenty of colour in your planting to curate an uplifting view.

Designer: Architectural Services Division, Govt of Honk Kong SAR, China   This building is actually a crematorium in Diamond Hill, Hong Kong. The shape of the courtyard alludes to the circle of life.

Architect: Atelier Deshaus   Courtyards don’t have to be flat. A few little hills bring in a touch of the wild.

Visualizer: Tharik Mohammed   This is based on the famous Hooper House II by Marcel Breuer, which is a mid century classic.

Architect: Mia Design Studio   Cultivate some curtains, like these amazing hanging plants over a reflecting pool.

Architect: ONG&ONG   Build bridges – from one side of a home to the other.

Architect: Ayutt and Associates   Plumerias are a great plant for courtyards, with their whimsical form.

Architect: Wallflower   This one has a 100 year old Plumeria tree, living right at the centre of a modern pool.

Architect: Gaudenzi   Soak up the sun in a hammock. This is part of a great Brazilian home with lush jungle vibes.

Architect: Marcio Kogan   Erase walls with a retractable door solution.

Designer: Tom Howard   Maintain all of your ground space by fashioning a vertical garden, like the multi-tonal walls in this front courtyard design. A cool interlocking design is created at ground level with irregular paving planks and lawn. A fire pit keeps the seating area comfortable in chillier times of day or season.

Architect: Sebastian Mariscal   Photographer: Coral von Zumwal   Form a shaded area over the dining chairs and table for a cooler more comfortable outdoor dining experience in the height of summer, or to provide shelter from unexpected showers.

Visualizer: Andriy Maheha   Welcome to the courtyard bar. This outdoor bar is linked directly to the interior kitchen, to receive drinks and snacks, or simply chat to the chef.

Visualizer: Estudio Arquitecta Grin   Built-in benches at the borders can double as outdoor dining banquettes.

Visualizer: Sqool   This concrete bench wraps right around an outdoor kitchen, marking out its perimeter.

Designer: Studio EI   Mimic a pergola with wood framing across the ceiling.

Designer: Christ-Christ   A single Japanese Maple tree can bring in shades of green and deep red.

Architect: SAOTA   Make a modern path of slab paving stones across wild brush…

Designer: EPT   … Or across a bed of loose pebbles. These Mexican beach pebbles make a great combination with Foxtail fern.

Visualizer: Mia Design Studio   Live amongst the lily pads with a miniature lily pond. This one butts up so close against a sofa that you could even sit and dip your feet! Latticework overhead creates a cosy covered feel but still lets sunlight filter through.

Architect: Ambrosi I Etchegaray   Photographer: Rory Gardiner   Even if a courtyard is just a pathway from place to place it can still provide soothing garden views to interior spaces.

Photographer: Daniel Koh   Invest in exterior lighting to add drama to the smallest of details.

Photographer: Daniel Koh   In a sunken courtyard, flow planting down from upper garden levels. Both this and the previous courtyard are from this beautiful bali retreat.

Architect: Alpes GDB   A courtyard can form the core of the home. Situate an eye-catching nature design at the base of a stairwell to link your levels via a place of natural serenity. Incorporate built-in planters on the landings to tie the levels together.

Architect: Iván Andrés Quizhpe   Sometimes, a pathway and a pool are all you need. Looking at a still pool of water can help quiet the mind, feed the soul, and cool the body. The base of a shallow pool can be lined with stones and pebbles to enrich the feature with a natural look. Create a floating pathway effect by leaving small gaps between large stepping stones, and hiding the fixings.

Architect: Geoffrey Bawa   The architect of the above spaces, Sri Lankan maestro Geoffrey Bawa, is often considered as the father of the “tropical modernism” movement. If you love this style, we encourage you to check out Geoffrey Bawa: The Complete Works.

Architect: Khosla Associates   This is from a house in south India that is based around a 5000-year-old Indian design practice called Vastu, which can be likened to the practice of Feng Shui.

Designer: De earth   Simple brickwork planters and grass growing between paving stones give a quaint laid-back vibe.

Designer: Studio Mumbai   Conjure a dreamlike vista by sinking a water feature into wood flooring, like this house with a courtyard pond.

Photographer: Andy Serrano   Create a natural looking ravine by lining a stream with craggy rocks.

Designer: WA-SO   Make hills come alive with trees and moss.

Visualizer: Studio Aiko   Make a display case for your courtyard. This one has its floor patterned by the Japanese zen garden raking technique.

Architect: Log Urbis   A glass case can incorporate retractable glass doors to allow access, and to allow the garden space to be incorporated more fully with the interior when desired.

Architect: Carvalho Araújo   Pulling up a single patio paving slab can be all the opportunity needed to incorporate a little greenery into your life and living space. Put out a sun lounger and enjoy.

Architect: Andrés Stebelski   This is a house with multiple courtyards, providing interior spaces with a panorama of picturesque trees and shrubs.

Visualizer: Vika Seregina   Small potted plants line a bank of shelving in this apartment courtyard area, which allows the greenery to be moved and enjoyed in other areas of the home too. A bright red seat has been fashioned around the base of a courtyard tree, which contrasts with the cool blue of a neighbouring kitchen diner. A glass ceiling blurs the boundaries between inside and out.

Find more inspiration and tips for beautiful outdoor living spaces here:

50 Gorgeous Outdoor Patio Design Ideas 50 Modern Outdoor Chairs To Elevate Views of Your Courtyard & Garden

Related Posts:

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Serene House with Courtyard Pond

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[thiswillbereportedtomanagement]

GQ's Best New Restaurants in America, 2018Every January, just after new year's, I set out across America in search of what we at GQ call the Perfect Night Out. What does that mean? Well, that's a good question. The easy part of the answer is that I'm looking for superlative restaurants that have opened in the past 12 to 18 months, the places we deem the best newcomers in the land. What makes them “perfect” is more complicated, and figuring that out for myself anew is, in some ways, precisely the purpose of each year's travel. I could give you a list of traits that the new restaurants I love nearly always display: ambition, artistry, heart, style, humor, familiarity, surprise, comfort, conscientiousness, craft—in addition to the more traditional restaurant qualities through which those are filtered, like deliciousness, hospitality, value, service, design, and so on. But the exact way in which any number of those will come together in a particular space, on a particular night, in a way that makes you say, “This. This is the only place in the world I want to be eating right now”—that remains something of a wonderful mystery.Which is what gave me hope in a year that provided abundant reasons to be depressed about dining out, even to wonder whether restaurants should still exist at all. There have been times when it's seemed that behind every inviting dining room lies, as Boston Globe critic Devra First memorably put it, “a Hieronymus Bosch tableau of struggling operators, lascivious chefs, and broke staffers.” To those who believe the only answer is to burn it all down, the 13 new restaurants in which I enjoyed this year's Perfect Nights Out—not to mention dozens of others that offered wonderful moments and meals—are, to my mind, the best argument for why restaurant culture is worth fighting to change, so that restaurants may live on. Futures of dining are like small plates: Everybody's got 'em. The other purpose of my annual journey—this year, nearly 75 restaurants across 18 cities—is to try to tease out a picture of the dining moment, some overarching theme or through line that sums up what it means to eat out in America today. This year, I threw up my hands. On an eight-degree January day in Chicago, in search of where things might be headed, I stopped into a new branch of a fast-casual dumpling chain billed as the city's first totally automated dining experience. It was fun ordering on a touch screen and then watching a bank of high-tech Automat windows for my name to appear alongside little dancing cartoon dumplings. Then the one visible employee, tasked with helping customers order while the rest presumably toiled backstage, leaned in over my shoulder and whispered: “It's the future, bro.” My first reaction was feeling like that eight-degree wind had just blown through my body. My second was to think, Get in line, bro. Futures of dining are like small plates: Everybody's got 'em. We've got more futures than we know what to do with—big, small, formal, casual, avant-garde, nostalgic, all of it up for grabs. (You get a taste of the schizophrenia in the taxonomic mania that has overtaken menus: HOT SMALL PLATES, SMALL COLD PLATES, SNACKS, BITES; FROM THE LAND; FROM THE SEA; FROM THE FIRE. Or perhaps monsieur would just like something from BOWLS?) With a few gloriously messy exceptions, the restaurants I love are ones that approach the question with some kind of clarity, a purposeful path through the clutter. The other great part of my job, of course, is that no two of those paths ever seem to be quite the same.This was the year I saw perhaps the last thing I expected to see in any restaurant, anywhere: a comment card in a David Chang restaurant. This one came with the check at Majordōmo in Los Angeles, where Chang has been spending more and more of his time. “How did we do?” it asked cheerily, followed by a range of smiley faces like those on the International Pain Scale. None of them showed a face contorted in the kind of anguish I imagined a younger Chang might have felt had he been able to look ahead to this moment. Chang, to quickly refresh, began his career as the very embodiment of client- directed hostility. Momofuku was the Kingdom of No: to substitutions, to seat backs, to dessert, to photos. Had it not been for the inconvenience of his being in the food-selling business, you got the feeling he might have done away with customers altogether.You're greeted at Majord-omo, which sits all but alone in an industrial neighborhood on the northern edge of Chinatown, by a brigade of hosts as plentiful and polite as von Trapp children. Looking up at the bay of mullioned windows, you might think the space was used to overhaul engines by day, but below there are comfy sling-back chairs, large, soothing paintings by James Jean, a soundtrack of Steely Dan. You could argue that, for all his kitchen innovation, Chang's primary vocation has been as a restless explorer of American restaurant forms—from fast food to fine dining. This confident, comfortable place is his utopian Cheesecake Factory, an impression aided by the kitchen's use of a loudspeaker ordering system that mimics the call of “Party of two” across a mall's tiled byways.What I'm trying to say is that Majordōmo is really, really, disconcertingly, nice. On the wet and chilly night I was there, Chang was in the kitchen sending out complimentary bowls of hot soup to those huddling outside on the patio. (It was a broth of miso, peas, and Benton's ham, the kind of sort-of southern, sort-of Asian, sort-of farmers'-market-driven creation on which Chang has made his bones for well over a decade now.) Even the name Majordōmo starts things off with a punny kiss of gratitude (domo is the casual Japanese term for “thanks”). It must be maddening to other restaurateurs that Chang, in addition to all his other talents, seems to have a bag of perfect restaurant names lying around. This one manages to also evoke Chang's ongoing fascination with the intersections of Italian and Asian cuisines, a theme he attacked in a more awkward manner at his last major New York opening, Nishi. You see it play out in tapioca lo mein, a purse-shaped spiral of spaghetti-sized noodles slicked with pork fat and twirled with rapini and an underlying bass line of preserved krill. Or in the waves of fermented-fish funk coming off the “bagna càuda” bathing a wedge of braised cabbage. Majordōmo riffs on the craze for Middle Eastern dining, serving steaming bing bread alongside spicy lamb and a hummus-like dip made with a fermented-chickpea substance that Momofuku has trademarked as Hozon. I can't think of a single dish that spans more cultures than what is simply billed as California Rock Crab; from left to right you get simply steamed claws served with a Meyer-lemon mayo, a shell filled with crab-fat rice, and a faithfully spicy version of the Korean marinated raw crab called ganjang gejang. I'm not sure they really make sense on the same plate, but in that, the blend of dissonances and connections, it screams nothing more clearly than Los Angeles.And, of course, all of the components are delicious, which is Chang's gift, even if he has sometimes seemed to think of it as a curse. Majordōmo may be his most unconflictedly delicious restaurant, and his most fun. Chang has said that his generation of chefs were like child actors, unprepared for the outsize cultural role they happened to fall into and struggling to figure out adulthood while in the public eye. Some, the implication goes, are Jodie Fosters; others are named Corey. Majordōmo proves he's in the former camp.If I have any objection to Majordōmo, it's that it was part of a disturbing trend of Big Important Restaurants taking up my usually more freewheeling meals in Los Angeles—my favorite dining city of the year. It was no small consolation that one of those was David Beran's Dialogue, which has 18 seats and is located in what appears to be a repurposed storage closet on the second floor of a Santa Monica food court. Beran is an alumnus of Grant Achatz's kitchens in Chicago, most recently as executive chef at Next, the restaurant that during his tenure changed its entire menu and concept every four months. Quite reasonably, he took some time off after moving to L.A., during which he engaged in such ordinary-person vacation projects as charring, pressing, and barrel-aging hundreds of pounds of onions to create gallons of burnt-onion syrup. If anybody tried to imitate it, he said gleefully, while I sat in front of his station at Dialogue's chef's counter, they were already a full year behind.The onion syrup shows up as a deep smoky note in a dish of maitake mushrooms and smoked-date puree, but not before you've had to find your way into Dialogue's windowless hidey-hole. To get there, you follow a series of e-mailed instructions that involve a dark alley and an unmarked steel door. It's kind of thrilling, but also kind of a cheat, given that you could have just taken the escalator up past the ice cream shop and grab-and-go grain bowls.The menu is built around seasons. Beran plans to change it entirely every three to four months. Mine, perversely, began with tastes of summer, though outside it was full January. You could almost detect the joy of a recent émigré from Chicago discovering L.A.'s season-less farmers' markets in the opening act: a geodesic dome of strawberry bubbles over pork belly and caviar. We proceeded through summer—a green leaf of choy sum, stuffed with strawberry nam prik, standing like a lonely tree atop cashew puree and a dusting of freeze-dried strawberries; a finger of lobster in béarnaise sauce, tucked under a blanket of nasturtium leaves, fennel pollen, and fermented-tomato powder; chamomile shortbread with olive-oil custard and whipped honey. And with that semi-dessert, we looped back and began autumn. Too often in this kind of cooking what you miss is…cooking: the smells and sounds of heat applied to ingredients. Early on in this meal, Beran began pan-searing what I thought of as Chekhov's Duck: Appearing in the first act, I thought, it damn well better pay off in the third. This one did, in the form of crisp-skinned breast, a dish of unctuous rillettes, and a sauce made from the carcass in an old-fashioned French duck press.Despite the restaurant's name—which strikes me as being awfully close to that of a fragrance you see ads for around Christmas, probably starring Johnny Depp—I found that my dinner was strikingly quiet, without a lot of the over-explaining that often accompanies such meals. Consequently, you might miss Easter eggs along the way, like the fact that each dish contains at least one element of the one that came before, or that the sound system plays only entire albums straight through, a conscious echo of how Beran wants you to view the meal as a coherent work. No matter: The sensual pleasures here are equal to the intellectual ones; the food speaks for itself. It was my favorite new restaurant of the year.Everything you need to know about the growing meaninglessness of traditional dining categories is that $220-per-diner Dialogue is described on Google Maps as a “New American Bistro.” If that descriptor applies anywhere, it's Julia Sullivan's Henrietta Red, in Nashville, where simple dishes are made dazzling by tiny details: littleneck clams dabbed with a bright escabeche of Calabrian chile and pineapple vinegar and roofed with a single nasturtium leaf; salty cured egg yolk in a beef tartare; the touch of smoked olive in a nourishing lamb sausage with lentils or the bite of whole-grain-mustard emulsion on a simple but shining fillet of wild striped bass.Is it strange that some of the best seafood I ate all year was in notably landlocked Tennessee? Hardly. Two of the best gumbos I've eaten in years were served to me in Seattle and North Carolina—which to many old-line New Orleanians might as well be Seattle for all the kinship it has with the Big Easy. The North Carolina version was at Hello, Sailor, a fantastical midcentury-modern surf shack located on the shore of Lake Norman, in the town of Cornelius, a half hour north of Charlotte. In the summer, I gather, the area is a bustling vacation spot; boaters can approach from the lake and tie up beneath the restaurant's patio. In the middle of winter, it appeared at the end of a pitch-dark road like a hallucination—all buttery wood ceilings, candy-colored fireplaces, and sexy curves. The food riffs on the kind of dishes you might have gotten at the building's previous incarnation as a dockside joint called the Rusty Rudder: crab dip spiked with pimiento cheese and crusted with brown-butter bread crumbs and benne seeds; fried bologna on a roll topped by a near solid caul of poppy seeds; soft serve for dessert. If the haute college-food-hall presentations sometimes veer toward too cute—ribs and shrimp calabash arrive on a tiny cafeteria tray—tastes like that of the gumbo make you forgive a lot: shrimpy, slippery, deep and inky as the water of the quiet lake outside the wide picture windows.The other gumbo was equally dark and contained shrimp, fried in a batter crispy enough to hold its crunch within the murk, and with a housemade Louisiana-style hot link. This was at JuneBaby, chef Edouardo Jordan's astonishing restaurant in Seattle's Ravenna neighborhood. If the idea of a great southern restaurant in the Northwest makes you skeptical, consider the benefits. Freed from any particular region of southern cooking, Jordan can roam: from the gumbo-lands of Louisiana up to Georgia and the Carolinas, where he picks up supple strips of fried pigs' ears, drizzled in spicy honey, down to Florida, where the “rice of the day” might be an almost pudding-like confection with coconut and conch.Jordan, who is himself from the Sunshine State, also dodges the dread bullet of “elevation”—a term of defensive insecurity that still gets thrown around when people feel the need to justify restaurant treatment of supposedly low-lying southern cuisine. His food may draw on high-kitchen technique, but it feels no need to apologize or protest on the plate. There's no better example than an appetizer of chitlins, or pig intestines, here served over rice in a rich pork stock. Like the French sausage andouillette, another example of Deep Offal, chitlins provoke a fleeting crisis between brain and stomach, a moment when the mind teeters on the edge, deciding whether to react to the incoming data with revulsion or desire. Then you—or at least I—find yourself downing the entire bowl in ravenous, breathless gulps. On the other end of the spectrum, but no less boldly straightforward, is peach brown Betty, done as it should be: piping hot and barely a knuckle deep, so that each bite is chewy, buttery, and crusty at once.The chitlins, too, are representative of a restaurant that is explicitly about the story of southern food as African-American food—from a hot toddy with rum, the spirit most closely entwined with slavery, to the creamer peas, a legacy of West Africa served here alongside a thick and gravy-covered chicken-fried steak. This is a meal that is narrative without being pedantic. It could only be improved by taking reservations and avoiding the stress of a waiting-list system that keeps tables empty while crowds push up against diners in the bar. More than enough people want to taste Jordan's food; making it more difficult than it needs to be is downright inhospitable, regardless of the latitude.It was, of course, the year of Fire and Fury. Or at least, in restaurants, fire: Across the land, flames continue to blaze in every open kitchen. I guess it's only a matter of time before a restaurant actually places tables inside the fire. Until that day, there's Maydān, hidden down an alley in the U Street neighborhood of Washington, D.C., with an open-fire kitchen located smack in the center of the dining room. Trussed lamb shoulders hang above, turning amber in the smoke, which exits through a soaring copper chimney. A team of chefs led by Gerald Addison and Chris Morgan labor at primitive stations, losing eyebrows and knuckle hair as they tend whole chickens, marinated in coriander, garlic, and turmeric, and lamb kebabs spiked with pistachio. With the baffling exception of bland pita bread that is by turns undercooked and cracker-like, everything is delicious, but the fire's most salubrious effect may be on those gathered around it: Conversations break out among neighboring tables at a rate that one feels wouldn't happen if the fire wasn't activating some caveman instinct for banding together to beat back the beasts and the darkness. (Outside, don't forget, is Washington, D.C., with no shortage of either.)It's no secret that the once sacrosanct categories of High and Low were long ago cast to the wind, leaving rarefied experiential dining on the top end, super-casual eating on the low, and a great, often muddled middle. It sometimes feels as though the real restaurant divide is between Big and Small. If I may vent for a moment about a great American food city that I find myself liking less and less to eat in, what is the matter with Chicago? How can a city known for amazing architecture and amazing neighborhoods center so much of its dining energy in the West Loop, where every “concept” in every oversize industrial space looks like a multi-million-dollar version of Top Chef's Restaurant Wars—cavernous, soulless, hastily assembled, and destined to be gone by next season.What a relief, then, to land at 24-seat Kitsune, far from the Loop, in North Center. This is the idiosyncratic restaurant of chef Iliana Regan, who became a champion of midwestern foraging and terroir at her first restaurant, Elizabeth. Here she applies those principles to Japanese cooking: delicate, wobbly chawanmushi swimming with bits of clam, marinated roe, and bacon; or ramen noodles made with ramps. This isn't gimmicky, or even particularly visible, “fusion,” but quiet, careful, nourishing invention.It's the kind of small, personal, focused place that stood out in this year of chaos, and it was not alone. There are few things I take as a better omen for a meal to come than spotting a baked tarte Tatin sitting near the kitchen pass, waiting to be sliced for dessert. It was one of the first things I saw at Chez Ma Tante, in Brooklyn's Greenpoint neighborhood, and I was not disappointed. The restaurant's name may come from a famous Montreal hot-dog stand, and one of its chefs, Aidan O'Neal, may have cut his teeth at Au Pied de Cochon, the High Temple of Quebecois offal-heads, but I'd say its most Montreal-like quality is a homey sense of great care and little fuss. There are soft slices of pig's-head terrine; grilled skate on the bone with classic sauce ravigote; a pork-shoulder steak, marinated in a mixture of chile, mustard, and maple syrup that imparts just the right level of heat, like an idle bug zapper. The unlikely star is kedgeree—a British colonial mash-up of curried rice and fish, here as fluffy as pilaf and studded with lightly cured cod. New York is filled with alleged “neighborhood restaurants” that are too cool, too experimental, too self-conscious to be the place you return to over and over again, say on a Tuesday night, when it's too late to cook or you want to celebrate a minor victory. If I lived near Chez Ma Tante, it would be my spot for just those days.So would Lady of the House, especially on cold Detroit nights when there's fog on the windows, Curtis Mayfield on the stereo, and a full complement of diners crowded elbow to elbow at the bar. Kate Williams's Corktown tavern feels like a midwestern twin of Chez Ma Tante, down to their coolly modern dark-wood interiors. One of my favorite single dishes of the entire year was Lady of the House's “Parisian Ham”—a simple plate of slow-poached French-style ham, shaved thin but in slices that still offer a pleasantly spongy bite. It is served on a plate accompanied by a small dish of butter whipped with Dijon mustard and fermented honey, and it takes you a moment to realize what's missing: There is no bread. You look from the ham to the butter, from the butter to the ham. You glance around: Is this some kind of test? Is there a two-way mirror somewhere? Am I supposed to just…butter the ham?So is rich, oily “shrimp butter,” served in a sardine tin in an allusion to Spanish conservas. After a few glasses of Slovenian wine, my companion, a local, began declaiming that it shouldn't be called butter at all, since the texture of the intensely orange paste is closer to that of uni; I got the feeling this was not a new monologue, but also that Lady of the House is that kind of place: where everybody knows your name and your personal pedantic demons. (Mine would be that the “Corn Dog Rillette” is really a rillette corn dog, but never mind.) There are fat slabs of pink prime rib coming out of the kitchen, but also dishes that treat plants as equal objects of lust, like cauliflower glazed with a fennel-olive marmalade and served with Parmesan sauce. On the way to the bathroom, you pass a wall covered with the staff's childhood photos. They seem to sum up everything about this happy, occasionally awkward, deeply personal restaurant.It is, of course, a blessing of our era that personal and neighborhoody hardly has to mean unambitious. That was reconfirmed for me when I sat at one of the counter seats at Houston's Theodore Rex. This is Justin Yu's re-invention of his much loved tasting-menu restaurant, Oxheart, and it reflects the easy, happy feel of a chef released from the obligation of making all his customers' decisions for them. Leon Bridges and Sam Cooke croon from the speakers; the napkins resemble terry-cloth dish towels. The food, meanwhile, is as careful and precise as the surroundings are casual: Pristine Gulf citrus is the ostensible star of a grapefruit salad, but I found myself fixated instead on the warm thin-sliced snap peas scattered across the ruby segments, an inspiration Yu says he got from an old Alain Passard pairing; tasted alone, they were sweet as sugar but, somehow, bites with grapefruit brought out a totally different set of peppery, almost horseradish notes, the way orange juice changes utterly if you've just brushed your teeth. A simple bowl of Carolina Gold rice and butter beans revealed itself as not so simple, its flavors shifting as lemon zest gave way to pepper on the way to the bottom. Steamed snapper in a smoked fumet broth thickened with spinach pistou and filled with rustically cut mirepoix managed to evoke China, France, and Texas simultaneously. I would have been happy to let Yu design my dinner; perhaps I wouldn't have ended up with three dishes that had soupy bases. But until he returns to tasting menus, I'll focus instead on his simple Paris-Brest: two rings of pâte à choux sandwiching a pillow of barnyardy Swiss-cheese pastry cream and burnt honey. I crave it more than any other dessert I ate this year.The Charter Oak, St. Helena, CA: High and low, casual and fancy: All mix delightfully by the light of a blazing hearth in the heart of the Napa Valley.Chez Ma Tante, Brooklyn: A little bit Montreal, a little bit France, this Greenpoint corner outpost is at its core all Brooklyn.Cote, New York City: The happy collision of American and Korean steak-house traditions makes for a raucous and delicious night in N.Y.C.Dialogue, Santa Monica: This tiny tasting-menu joint, tucked into a food court, is a revelation about the possibilities of dinner as storytelling.Hello, Sailor, Cornelius, NC: This midcentury-modern haven features expert cocktails and fine-tuned southern classics.Henrietta Red, Nashville: Pristine oysters and deftly cooked seafood are the anchor of Julia Sullivan's cool and comfortable joint.JuneBaby, Seattle: Southern food has rarely tasted as vital as it does under Edouardo Jordan's hand—way, way above the Mason-Dixon Line.Kitsune, Chicago: “Fusion” isn't a dirty word when it's as delicate as this mash-up of Japanese cooking and midwestern bounty.Lady of the House, Detroit: From the comfy bar to the buttered Parisian ham, Kate Williams has created a neighborhood restaurant to dream of.Majordōmo, Los Angeles: Chang's first West Coast outpost is everything you love about Momofuku, plus everything he loves about L.A.Maydān, Washington, D.C.: Gather around the blazing indoor fire for meats, meze, and other Middle Eastern eats at this literal D.C. hot spot.Theodore Rex, Houston: Justin Yu's latest—delayed by Hurricane Harvey—is an ambitious and welcome successor to his beloved Oxheart.Xochi, Houston: The breadth and depth of Oaxacan cooking is on magnificent display at this slick H-Town jewel from Hugo Ortega.Mind you, big, slick, and ripe for replication can have its charms, too. The concept at New York's Cote is the marriage of American steak with Korean barbecue—the natural and brilliant extension of how accustomed we've become to good beef and how deeply Korean flavors have become entrenched in the American palate. On the relatively modestly priced “Butcher's Feast,” you get pieces of hanger steak, 45-day-aged rib eye, and intensely marbled Wagyu flatiron before ending with slices of more traditionally marinated short rib, or kalbi, scored so that they curl and char on the grill like hen-of-the-woods mushrooms. That grill is located in the center of the table, equipped with a venting system that sucks fumes away through subterranean ducts. In the era of the all-powerful big-name chef, every member of the front of house does the cooking here—fairly leaping over one another to tend to the beef as it curls and spits on the grill before you.The table technology plays an important role, eliminating the need for venting hoods over each table and thus leaving space for such dinner niceties as eye contact and toasting. So does the fact that you end up eating a satisfying but relatively small amount of beef compared with an American steak house, while the acid of the accompanying *banchan—*kimchi, bright green scallions dressed in gochujang vinaigrette, the fermented-bean-paste condiment called ssamjang—further diffuses the impact of the beef's richness. If all this results in a room that gets a little giddy and deafening, it's also incentive to order another bottle of soju and, rather than seek a solution, become part of the problem.Likewise, the highest levels of cooking can thrive in the most sterile nooks. Xochi, Hugo Ortega's Oaxacan restaurant, tucked into a glass-sheathed corner of a soaring Marriott Marquis in downtown Houston, has all the appearances of a safe, unchallenging haven for corporate retreaters and badge-wearing convention-goers. Then you get a taste of its mole. Moles, actually—there are at least eight of them on any given night, a range as wide and varied as a rainbow. Fifteen dollars gets you a sample of four, accompanied by fresh corn tortillas, but there's nothing to say you can't double up and get the whole spectrum, spread out before you like a vibraphone: Here are the bright, clear notes of the amarillo; you'll taste it again later, ringing clearly alongside the brininess of wood-roasted oysters; next, the dusky middle tones of red coloradito and murky chicatana, which is made with ants; finally the deep, burnt bass notes of chilhuacle and chinchillo. That last one, too, will make an appearance later, on beef decorating the wide, flat, and crackling street tortillas, called tlayudas, that are served at lunch. Ortega, whose 16-year-old restaurant, Hugo's, helped revolutionize Houston's Mexican dining scene, introduces a whole world of Oaxacan tastes here. The sopa de piedra, a fish-and-shrimp stew served bubbling furiously from the last-second addition of blisteringly hot river stones, is a deep, orange blast of seafood flavor. A pool of blue-corn cream brings soft, earthy notes to a dessert of corn ice cream sculpted into tiny cobs. But it's those multidimensional moles I keep returning to. “All those famous French sauces?” my enthusiastic companion raved. “These kick all of their asses.” It was hard for me to disagree.And sometimes you just want to embrace the chaos. Witness The Charter Oak, in St. Helena, California, in the middle of the Napa Valley. This is theoretically the casual counterpart to Christopher Kostow and Nathaniel Dorn's three-Michelin-star Restaurant at Meadowood, just up the road. In fact, it's a riot of conflicting signs: The hosts wear blazers; the servers, butcher's aprons; and, for no discernible reason, the chefs, Secret Service earpieces. Cocktails come in pre-batched flasks and punch bowls for the table; water, in curvy pewter-and-glass jugs appropriate for bathing Muses on Greek urns; dessert on a modern butcher-block dessert cart.Does any of it matter? Not in the least. There are some restaurants where you get the feeling that everybody is at least momentarily aware of how lucky they are to be there, and this is one. When you enter the bank-like dining room, you're faced with a massive hearth—a place my server pronounced so that it rhymed with “earth.” Off the flames come thick pieces of sourdough, made with a 25-year-old starter, kissed with smoke and delicious with slices of homemade mortadella. “Tostones” are smashed potatoes, deep-fried and tossed with honey, vinegar, sea salt, and seaweed brown butter. These are potato skins, to be clear, and utterly impossible to stop eating. A luscious beef rib is smoked over the wood from Cabernet barrels and comes alongside blistered beets dressed in rendered aged-beef fat. The dessert cart came by, and the chef pushing it cracked a dome of meringue for a Pavlova with a sharp thwack of her spoon. We perused the whiskey menu, deciding to pass on a $240 shot of Orphan Barrel bourbon.None of it made any sense, but at that moment it was also hard to imagine having more fun. In 2018, would it surprise anyone to learn that the great American style might just be incoherence?Brett Martin is a GQ correspondent.This story originally appeared in the May 2018 issue with the title "The Perfect Night Out: GQ's Best New Restaurants 2018"

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