#i’m not under the impression anyone really cares about this BUT i’m over the moon and just need to word vomit about it

[icesiscouture]

Okay, besties, y’all didn’t seem horribly annoyed at the prospect of me posting more about my Trixie and Katya M&G last night, so here is that post.

I could tell they were both in a good mood before it was even my turn because they were loud and Trixie was cackling (as per usual). The first time I met them together, I was really nervous, but last night I just felt weirdly calm about the entire thing, which I think helped a ton. I walked over to them, and Katya immediately asked me how I was. I said I was doing really well and asked how they were. Katya said they were both doing well. Trixie clocked the purple Trixie Cosmetics scrunchie I had in my hair and went, “Is that my scrunchie?!” I said, “It is your scrunchie!” She smiled really big and told me it was “so cute.” I am, of course, delusional and annoying, and I was like, “Right? I am really cute.” They both burst out laughing, and Gabriel came through and got a picture of that. We then took our official photos, and Gabriel gave me the little cue to leave, but Trixie leaned over again and went, “My favorite thing to do in drag is wear a scrunchie on my wrist like a bracelet as if I could put my hair up at any time.” I was like, “I love it, honestly. It’s a look.” Then I thanked everyone and left. It was so charming and sweet and truly the perfect little interaction for such a short amount of time.

Other highlights of the night include Katya almost running directly into me in the lobby before the M&G; meeting Kelly; Trixie and Katya both continuously talking shit about Springfield, which I loved as someone who grew up right outside of that town and believes it’s the absolute worst; Trixie accidentally launching her ribbon at us in the front row and having to shuffle over while a guy a couple seats down from me picked it up to hand back to her; Katya and Kelly both fucking up their lines; and Katya running directly to me at the end of curtain call with her hands out towards me, to which I initially responded by blowing her a kiss until she did grabby hands and I realized what she wanted (she gave them a little squeeze and then smiled and ran offstage).

I had so much fun at my first Trixie and Katya Live show, but last night was genuinely 5,000 times better in every possible way. 💜

[tgmsunmontue]

I never knew I was missing you 5/? WIP

Jake is just trying to find a connection. Shame the guy he connects with the most is lying about his identity online; because he sure as hell isn't A-list Hollywood star Bradley Bradshaw.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR

PART FIVE

                They have a date. Legitimate plans with an actual day and time to meet in less than two days’ time. He doesn’t get why he’s so nervous, because they can clearly talk each other’s ears off, and find each other attractive. But there’s the fact that Bradley could have anyone. Jake’s never been one to lack when it comes to self-esteem or confidence, but he’s pretty sure he’s allowed to feel a little intimidated. He’s good at what he does, but he isn’t rich and famous. His lifestyle and career don’t lend themselves to being a present boyfriend. Not that he’s ever really tried before.

                He’d said he was looking for something a bit heavier than a one-night stand, but he’s not sure what he and Bradley are going to achieve in under four weeks when his leave is over. He guesses they’re probably going to have to talk about it, which leaves his stomach feeling unbearably queasy. Trying a relationship with a normal person has never worked out for him before, trying one with someone whose lifestyle is so vastly different from his own, that can only be more challenging. Not that he ever backs down from a challenge, but…

                Shit.

                He’s going to end up spiraling. What he really needs is to talk to Javy, have someone to either bring him back to Earth or slap some sense into him. Maybe both. Except he doesn’t want to share the fact that he’s been talking to the real Bradley Bradshaw without checking with Bradley first and he hasn’t even gone more than an hour without wanting to call him. Maybe a message is better, won’t disturb him if he’s busy doing something. Although, if what Neil had been grumbling about Bradley has been haunting his own house and mooning over his phone.

                Mooning over Jake.

                Okay. Maybe things aren’t as dire as he thought. What is Mama Machado always telling him, not to go borrowing trouble?

>>Can I tell me best friend about you?

                He goes and makes himself something to eat, refuses to stare at his phone just waiting for Bradley to answer. It buzzes on the coffee table and he lets himself ignore it for all of ten seconds before he’s rushing to pick it up, can’t help the grin when he sees it’s Bradley messaging him back.

>>Didn’t you already?

>>Yeah well, but now I can tell him it’s actually you. For real.

>>Oh. Yeah. Of course. Tell him I say hi.

>>Okay?

>>Only polite.

>>I want your friends to like me.

                Jakes snorts and then he’s flushes with the realization that Bradley thinks this, whatever it is, is going to last long enough that they’re going to meet each other’s friends. Sure he’s meeting Bradley at his house, and meeting Neil and Callie because they live with Bradley, but… Okay. He’s no longer catastrophizing everything in his own head. Bradley is worried about making a good impression. That’s fucking adorable.

>>They’ll like you fine. Probably think you’re too nice for me.

>>Well.

>>They’d be wrong. I can be an asshole when I want to be.

>>I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

>>Me too. 36 hours or so right?

>>Yeah. Bring an overnight bag.

>>I have plenty of spare rooms.

                Jake’s grinning at his phone, his reflection distorted in the screen and he doesn’t fucking care. Bradley has a lot more to lose than him and he’s just laying it all out on the table.

>>And if I don’t want to?

>>Don’t want to what?

>>Sleep in a spare room.

>>Is it the sleeping part or the spare room part you’re having issue with?

>>Both to be honest.

>>Well, I’ll see what I can do about those when I see you.

>>Well, now I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

>>Good. I’ve got to go, Neil is making me do a workout and says I’m wasting precious seconds talking to you.

>>Go. Don’t want you getting in trouble.

>>Yeah. Not like he can ground me, but he does know where I sleep.

                Jake bites his lip and feels like he’s so glad no one can see him right now, because soon he’ll also know where Bradley sleeps, will be sharing the space with him. His stomach has gone from feeling queasy to sheer unbridled excitement, the adrenaline high of knowing something good is coming his way. He feels a lot more settled having had the brief conversation, his cheeks aching a little from the fact he’s been smiling so much. He thumbs through to Javy’s contact and presses the call icon.

                “Jake. Hey man. Everything okay?”

                “Yeah. Everything’s great. Fine. Peachy.” There’s nothing on the other end but silence and Jake pulls a face, because he does actually mean it, and he doesn’t need Javy to talk sense into him any more, but he does want to share this new development with his best friend. “How are you?”

                “I’m good. Waiting for my best –”

                “I have a date with Bradley Bradshaw,” Jake interrupts, unable to hold back.

                “Uh… you mean the guy pretending to be Bradley Bradshaw right?”

                “No. The actual real one.”

                “Jake. I can’t tell if you’re trying to take the piss or you’re actually meeting up with this weird guy you’ve been chatting with…”

                “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Both. It’s both. Wait. No it’s not. I’m serious. The guy is actually Bradley Bradshaw and we’ve been, uh, you know, chatting, for the last couple of weeks…”

                “Chatting? Flirting you mean…”

                “Yeah. And more.”

                “Oh holy shit… wait. How do you know it’s actually him?”

                “Video call. And then another video call…” Jake supplies, thinking back to

                “I… don’t think I’m going to ask for details.”

                “Good call,” Jake says with a slightly hysterical laugh, because he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

                “Holy shit. Are you serious?”

                “Yeah. I was kind of freaking out a little. Not any more.”

                “Oh my god. You really like him…”

                “So what if I do? I just…”

                “Yeah. He already likes you back. Enough to be chatting with you for over two weeks.”

                “Yeah.”

                “So, you need to stop freaking the fuck out. He already likes you.”

                “Yeah, he does… but I’m not freaking out. Not anymore.”

                “Only you though. Getting a date with a Hollywood star through a fucking dating app. Pure dumb luck.”

                “Pure talent all the way through.”

                “Yeah. Talent for bullshit.”

…            …            …

                Bradley has to work, interviews and some media appearances which is why they’ve had to delay meeting until tomorrow. He’s been gifted with Bradley’s home address, surprised to find it in Capistrano Beach, which makes him less than an hour away. It means Jake doesn’t have to fight through LA traffic. He adds it to his list of questions he wants to ask, although it’s behind the list of things he wants to do. Of course, he’ll follow Bradley’s lead, but if it’s up to him he’s going to shoot for the stars. Or this one star in particular.

                A knock to his door startles him, because he’s not expecting anyone, plus he’s in temporary base housing so it’s not like a lot of people know where he is. He opens it to find Maverick standing there, peering at him through the screen door which Jake pushes open with his other hand.

                “Maverick. Hi. What are you doing here?”

                “Just thought I’d pop in and surprise you…”

                “Uh. Okay. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink?” Jake offers, stepping back and watching with a little confusion as Maverick takes his boots off and shrugs off his jacket.

                “What have you got?”

                “Uh… not a lot to be honest. Some beer or water?”

                “No bottles of vodka or whiskey lying around?”

                “Uh, no. Sorry?”

                It’s not even midday. Why the fuck would Maverick want vodka or whiskey. Hell, even beer at this time of day is unusual.

                “Hmm. So… what have you been doing during your leave so far?”

                Jake opens his mouth, blinks, shuts his mouth.

                “What?”

                “What have you been up to?”

                “Just… hanging out. Why?”

                “No… drug fuelled orgies or parties which you don’t remember the next day?”

                “What the fuck?”

                “Huh. Kids these days are so boring.”

                “Mav, are you okay?”

                Surely Mav is too old to be having a midlife crisis? Jake wouldn’t know, not being that fucking old.

                “I’m good. Fine. Just… thought I’d come and get to know you better.”

                “Uh…” Would it be rude to ask why? And why it was alcohol and drug fueled parties he asked about first? “What did you want to know?” Jake asks carefully.

                “Did you know I have a godson? Little bit older than you.”

                “No. I didn’t know that.”

                “Do you have a good relationship with you parents kid?”

                Jake grits his teeth and reminds himself that Maverick doesn’t mean to be disrespectful by calling him kid. To Maverick he is a kid probably, and he just said he had a godson older than Jake. Also Jake does not have a good relationship with his family and he really prefers not to talk about it.

                “No. I don’t. They’re… it’s complicated. Lets just say it’s best if I don’t darken their door.”

                Maverick’s eyes snap up at that, he sees a flash of something, wishes he knew Maverick better so he could figure out what it was.

                “Is it the gay thing?”

                “Definitely doesn’t help,” Jake sighs, wonders where the hell this is going and is suddenly linking it with the alcohol and drug fueled orgy questions and he pulls back slightly. “Uh. What’s with you? Why the sudden interest?”

                “Oh. Well. Cards on the table I guess. I was thinking of setting you up with my godson.”

                “Oh. Uh… Thanks but…” Jake starts, already shaking his head.

                “He’s a good looking kid –”

                “Mav, I’m kind of… not available.”

                “Really? Since when?”

                “Uh. It’s new, but I’m… really looking forward to seeing where it goes.”

                “Really? Who is it? Do I know them?”

                “This feels sort of weird, you asking me all these questions. But no, you don’t know them.”

                “Hmm. Interesting. Come on kid, let's go get some lunch and you can tell me all about it.”

[skittlewaffle]

Different Flavors of Daycare Attendants (WIP maybe ??)

PLEASE NOTE that I do not read fics a lot and certainly don’t know everything. These are just general headcanons about the Daycare Attendant placed into categories! Personally my view is a mix of a good handful of every category

But yes this was all made for fun because I have brainrot. I’ll keep adding to this post or make a part two if this is something people enjoy, and I’m happy to accept any help! I know there are plenty more headcanons that I don’t have under categories yet.

… Some sections were rushed because I just wanted to post this before Ruin comes out and the Biblically Accurate section gets muddled.. haha. JUST,, enjoy !!!

Canon

Sun

Unhinged

Potentially partially virused, though it’s generally assumed not

Theatrical antics

Probably overdramatic on purpose / playing his theater role but in a child care setting

LIGHTS ON!!

Overbearing, offputting, and loud

Stickler for rules and cleanliness

Keeps daycare clean and organized, but not himself or his room

Might not be restricted to daycare out of frame, but implications are present that he may be lonely

It’s unclear if he and Moon have a connection in their headspace, but it is sometimes assumed they don’t

Probably unaware of Moon’s virused state

Moon

Silly gremlin

Fully virused

Theatrical antics amplified; evil stage persona is more literal

Naptime protocol amplified; what feels to him like putting people to sleep is actually killing people

Childcare and entertainment programming still seems functional

Creepy

Loves to stalk, dance, and play pretend

Shares Sun’s obsession with rules and cleanup

Strong enough to knock out a Glamrock

Seems quite lightweight

Sounds like he has a built-in, broken music box ??

* HEADCANON: Has a different mode meant to reflect the gentler character he appears to be in the Moondrop candy advertisements, instead of his theater villain role

Anxious boys

Sun

Restricted to daycare, refuses to take even a single step out

Doesn’t know what he’s doing

Scares or hurts the kids on accident, proceeds to freak out over it

Weak to compliments and praise; he just wants to do a good job

Needs affirmation, stat

Will 100% fall in love with anyone who is consistently nice to him

Acts like a kicked puppy when spoken to sternly, lectured, or yelled at

Lets people walk all over him

Constant fidgeting

Stutters a lot

Stressed OUT

Constantly at his breaking point; help him

Moon

Self-conscious about his naturally creepy looks and mannerisms

Bad first impressions

Often keeps a distance, watching from afar

Uses few words

Wishes to be liked

A kid likes him? His child now.

Sad to see them go :(

Rather graceful, slow movements that give him eerie vibes

Tends to word things in ways that sound like red flags (like offering candy in a shady area), but doesn’t quite realize it

False reputation amongst patrons

Many complaints from parents for his bad vibes

Heavily misjudged; really means no harm

Wet napkin

Likes to dance on his wire; keeps him busy when he can’t socialize

Will perform many tricks for people who do become his friend

Never forgets anyone who is kind to him in even one instance

Confident boys / high experience DCA

Sun

Practically built for childcare; knows what to do in pretty much every situation

Loved by all the children

Social towards everyone, no matter how stubborn or closed off they may be

Manages to put a smile on all faces

Really not afraid of drawing attention or being embarrassing if it means making a child happy

Always knows just what to say

Very helpful to new employees

Might step outside the Daycare from time to time

Reads faces very well, in adults and children

Capable of disobeying protocols for more serious reasons

MUCH more observant than you think

Roasts Karens lol

Moon

Is both the Naptime Attendant and a nighttime security bot

Many children want to cuddle with him during nap time

Has a ton of patience

Especially loves getting to hold babies

Very protective of the little ones

The most feared security in the entire Pizzaplex

Takes his job as security bot very seriously; loves his job as a childcare worker

High Tech

DCA has many upgrades

Still very versatile and could be upgraded more

AI advanced enough to be considered eligible for human rights

Movements, speech, and feelings are very realistic, almost not robotic at all

Can experience human senses (smell, touch, etc.)

Softer casing to simulate a more human feel

Can blush and cry tears, but not bleed (unless it’s oil in their machinery)

Feels pain and temperature, and is ticklish

Can get overstimulated and feel disgust at certain textures

Has certain mannerisms that could classify them under certain diagnosable human conditions or mental disorders (which they technically aren’t; the diagnoses are worded for us humans to better understand and relate to)

Cannot get sick and doesn’t need to eat or breathe, but can pretend to

Has eyelids, lips, tongue, and movable facial features to emote better

Acts sleepy or drunk when low on battery, and genuinely feels like that

Has a simulated heartbeat and breathing

Waterproof

Multipurpose

Perfectly capable of obtaining a PHD

Seems to have built-in tools for almost anything, mostly for human health and first aid purposes

Might need some recovery time after P&S visits, similar to pain after human surgery (tight screws, rearranged wires, etc)

More capable of fighting viruses and defending themself and others

Low Tech

Basically a stereotypical cartoon robot

Still sentient and can learn, but still operates mostly on programming

Still have the basic qualities of Sun and Moon’s original personalities (cheery and loud; calm and quiet)

States what they’re doing out loud (processing, downloading, initiating protocol, etc.)

States warnings and errors out loud (low battery, update failed, null object reference, ERROR!!)

Static smile

Uses prerecorded lines often; new lines sometimes sound broken like AI or TTS

Might not understand certain topics

Might mishear you

Sometimes treats other everyday machinery like they are alive, mostly holding grudges, fearing them, or being jealous of them

Cares much more about the feelings of others than their own

Less capable of fighting viruses or preventing other unwanted actions towards them

Whores

Aimed towards the more mature side of the fandom

Bastards / smug / absolute sluts (affectionate or derogatory, whatever you feel lol)

Wear suits, ties, suspenders… fancy stuff

Shirts are often only partially buttoned, ties loose or just draping over

Also may wear feminine clothing, depending on the type of storyline

Can drink and smoke somehow

More laid back and flirtatious

Occasionally / casually threatening

Might have cool hats

Sometimes have guns / some kind of weapon

AWOOGA

Often involves suggestive implications

Call you nicknames you probably love but your Y/N often hates

Plot involving high stakes and serious danger

Simp material

We are attracted to any red flag they may have /hj

Animalistic

Sun

Dog

A big dog who thinks he’s a lap dog

Probably fell in love with you immediately

Separation anxiety / abandonment issues

Loyal; will always wait for you no matter what

Whines if you’re gone for too long :(

Misses you sooo much

Begs a lot

Head tilts

Extremely attentive, affectionate and excitable

Might tackle you

Loves playfighting

Always weak to praise and cuddles

Is a good boy, the best boy

Full of energy; loves to play

Rays fold backwards / retract when guilty, angry, or defensive

More apologetic than really necessary

Would probably be very sorry if you called him bad, even if he did nothing wrong

Easily excited / distracted at particular things or favorite items

Highly possessive of favorite items

Hides his favorite items in random corners of your house

Gets the zoomies (and may or may not accidentally break something from jumping over / running into furniture and stuff)

Very aware of people

Likes to sunbathe

Got muddy and needs a bath .. again

Has stim toys, many of them squeaky

Doesn’t sit on the couch right

Wants to protect you

Loves the outdoors and going for walkies

Always sleeps on your bed / somewhere in the same room

Wakes you with a complete ONSLAUGHT of smooches

Moon

Cat

First meeting was likely him hunting and pouncing at you

Still likes to stalk and prowl for fun / as a game

Likes to rest in elevated places, including the top of your fridge

Loafs

Hisses

Interested in silly / shiny little trinkets

Gremlin; knocks your stuff down on purpose and runs away

Has claws, could be retractable

Eyes dilate / shrink

Might flinch when touched, but still leans into it if he wants the attention

Slinks away from touch when distracted by something else

Likes to fall asleep on you; you can’t move (he is aware of this)

Likes laser pointers and dangly thingies

Enjoys sneaking up on you

Purrs (or has some robotic equivalent of purring, like whirring or broken music box)

Gets 3AM zoomies

Elegant s t r e t c h

Changes from bipedal to quadrupedal when he feels like it

Likes the window

Hates water, but likes to keep clean and tidy

Movements are fluid; he is liquid

Tries to fit into small spaces, twists his animatronic body to do so

Has favorite hiding places

Territorial

Hunts pests in your home if he’s bored.. might even bring them to you

Stares at you. Slow blinks. Affection.

Head bonks while sitting next to you

Lazy / sleepy bitch disease

Prefers to stay inside, but likes to explore occasionally and go for nighttime walkies

Always curls up beside you at night

You wake up to him kneading at you or rubbing his face on you

* DCA may have tails and / or beans

Brothers

Mostly tends to be a separate bodies view

Inseparable either way

Chaotic duo

Quite the opposite in a way they still have a close bond

Lots of playfighting

Sometimes actual fighting

Care a lot for each other, but have a sort of friendly rivalry

Never one without the other

Not afraid of speaking their mind plainly, to their benefit or detriment

Great teamwork on their better days

Immature pouting / silent treatment on their worse days

Do most everything together

Often competitive

Disagreements are most often more comedic than serious

Their fights are childish and silly; you can’t help but laugh

Sometimes complains about who the “big brother” is

Get into the silliest shenanigans; it’s trouble, but endearing all the same as they love having a story of adventure to tell

Know each other better than anyone else can

Look very closely after each other, especially when someone else gets close

Favorite colors are what the other wears most often / is themed after (Sun: blue; Moon: yellow)

Applies to their eye colors, especially if chosen by them for upgrades

While both are very different, both also exhibit certain behaviors that directly parallel / mirror the other

Lovers

(NOT brothers at the same time. Fuck off)

The most wholesome shit you’ve ever seen

Fluff, comfort, cuddles, words of affirmation… the dream

Tons of celestial nicknames, phrases, and metaphors

Very poetic; immerses you in calm, dreamlike scenery, like a storybook

Emotional support partners

Each often doesn’t take care of themself until the other notices and helps them

The cutest little dates (tea parties, art sessions, and sleepovers are common)

Still prone to angst, but has a happy ending

I hope

AUGHH

That is all for now; I hope you enjoyed!! If we have a continuation of this, I have category ideas, such as a Cartoonish DCA, a DCA with very very many features, Sun and Moon as enemies, or any other types of DCA you have in mind! Thanks for reading :D

[aeoki]

Swing Night - The Two, Divided: Chapter 2

Characters: Adonis, Kouga, Kaoru & Rei

Kouga: No, wait a minute. Why are you under the impression that I won’t be able to answer when I’m asked about my first love?

Obviously, it’s something I can do.

Rei & Kaoru: What!?

Kaoru: Y–You’re kidding, right? Kouga-kun, you always thought girls were intimidating, so what brought this on!?

Rei: Kouga, a bloody fistfight is not considered a first love, alright?

Kouga: Do you two really wanna drown in a sea of blood!?

Adonis: Oogami’s first love…

We’ve spent a long time together, but this is the first time I’ve heard of it. I’m interested. Please tell us more.

Kouga: Huh? Seriously? I didn’t think it’d garner this much attention.

Alright, fine. Well, it’s nothin’ I gotta hide, so I’ll tell you guys since Adonis really wants to hear it.

It wasn’t romantic love or anythin’ of that fickle sort, alright?

I just really admired her… If there’s someone who’s really good at something, then you’d think they’re really cool as a kid, right?

There was this really strong player at the card shop I used to frequent back then.

They had tables just for card battles there and everyone would battle each other.

The shop even posted the results of the battles on the wall too. It was a tiny shop –  just something that happened in a tiny world.

I really admired the people at the top of that battle ranking.

All the top rankers used aliases too. For example, if their deck centred on dragons, then they’d be called “Dragon Knight”.

Adonis: Hmm. The shop owner must have wanted the customers to be more competitive by doing that.

I don’t know much about card games, though.

You told me before that in order to get into the ranking, you’d have to get stronger, win more matches and buy newer cards, right?

You said that was necessary in order to come up with more tactics.

Kouga: Yeah. I’m surprised you remember.

Still, I was real poor back then, so I couldn’t buy a lot of cards. I strengthened my deck by gettin’ them from bets I won by battlin’.

I collected cards, did my best to put together a good deck and…

I was so happy and excited when I made it on the rankin’!

Rei: Hm? Were we talking about card battles? I thought we were talking about first loves.

Kouga: Just listen until the end.

Anyway, I wanted to tell the entire world that I’d made it – I wanted to get ‘em to remember me, “The Full-Moon Howling Wolf User Kou-chan”.

Kaoru: That’s a cute name and your reaction was pretty cute too.

Kouga: I–I ain’t cute. It’s supposed to sound cool!

Anyway, there was this one person who was always at the top.

I always cared about my rank, so I remembered her and started to look for her naturally.

Well, anyone would wanna meet someone like that, right? I’m already so strong, but who’s the one that’s runnin’ ahead of me?

But I never got to meet her ‘cause I never found her. 

I’d always visit the shop at night, but one day, I went to the shop a little earlier than usual and…

She was right there!

She was probably just a lil’ bit older than me, but she was unparalleled.

Once I knew what time she showed up, I started going to the shop at that time too. I’d challenge her and lose over and over.

I’d still ask for a rematch even when she drove me away. I’d lose and that would repeat.

Rei: I’m getting a sense of deja vu… You’re too persistent in your approach, Kouga. It’d do you well to increase your options, you know?

Kouga: Shut up~! It’s fine. This is just who I am!

Kaoru: Hmm? So your first love was an older girl that stood out at the card shop?

Kouga: It’s not like that – I just admired her. She was really frickin’ strong. I challenged her over and over, but I never stood a chance against her.

But after a while, she stopped comin’ to the shop.

And I started losin’ interest since she wasn’t on the rankings anymore.

After that, I’d sometimes show up when I felt like it and started battlin’ again.

I sure wiped the floor with my “Infinity Multiplying Wolf Deck”...♪

But I couldn’t fill the hole in my heart no matter how many times I won. There wasn’t any point since the champion wasn’t around.

I might’ve graduated from playin’ card games, but I’d love to get revenge against “The Underworld Slaughterer”.

Kaoru: That’s not a name you’d imagine a pretty older girl to have.

Kouga: Honestly, I don’t even remember what she looked like. I do think she was pretty, but maybe she had a lotta makeup on?

But I had a time where I lost so much to the point I’d be so frustrated and all I’d be thinkin’ about was her. She’d even appear in my dreams, but I was always super nervous when we talked.

I was just happy to have met and talked with her.

I dunno much about romantic love, but that sounds like the sorta feelin’ you’d hear about in romance movies, right?

So thinkin’ back, maybe… she was my first love.

Adonis: That’s a nice story. It’s very fitting for you, Oogami.

Kouga: Is it? I don’t really know what to think of it right now, though.

But that’s what it’s like when you’re a kid – you dunno if it was admiration, romantic love or respect.

It’s the same now, though. I can’t state my feelings clearly like they do in fiction.

Kaoru: Yeah. Hehe, but I’m glad to hear you had those sorts of experiences too, Kouga-kun.

I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you said something like, “I fell in love at first sight when I saw Sakuma-senpai at the live house – that was my first love.”

Kouga: Say what now!?

Rei: Oh my, oh my. So that’s why you’d look at me with such passionate eyes, Kouga…!

Adonis: He did that? I didn’t notice.

Kouga: I’mma frickin’ kill ya! T–That ain’t true at all!

Huh? Look, the movie’s over ‘cause we were chattin’ away.

Rei: Oh, it seems we were all too focused on your story.

It’s fine, we’ll just make sure we watch the next one until the end.

Kouga: We’re gonna watch more!? Ugh, seriously, no more…!

Rei: This is all for Adonis-kun’s sake. It’s too late to throw in the towel now…♪

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[caitimetravels]

she's insignificant

chapter 10: where you've gone

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: none

masterlist

with a sigh, y/n stood. five was still writing away behind her on the walls non-stop. she didn't dare interrupt him, simply leaving. she would be back anyways. all she needed was a nice walk. 

as she wandered down the street with no destination in mind she spaced out, eyes trained on her feet. suddenly someone knocked her shoulder and brought her back to reality. she raised her head, hoping they weren't someone looking to start a fight or argue with her.

"y/n?" instead she was met with allison. her technically older sister seemed frustrated.

"allison? are you okay?" y/n's eyebrows furrowed, looking up at the curly haired woman. 

"yeah.. i think so" she frowned, "i'm worried about vanya. she won't listen to me but her boyfriend, whoever he is.. i think he's dangerous. i couldn't find anything about him-"

"you went searching for his records?" y/n pulled back in disbelief, "allison! you know vanya doesn't like-"

"i know, she already got angry with me" allison sighed, shaking her head.

"why would you do that?" y/n tilted her head up at her, eyes narrowing incredulously. "where are you even going?"

"well, i found his address. i was going to see if anything's weird.." she earned a disapproving look, "i can't just sit around and do nothing y/n! please, help me, for vanya?"

y/n's expression only darkened, "why are you trying to ruin one of the only good things in her life?! she deserves to be happy for once and im not going to help you take that away from her!" she begun to shout, freezing as she realised her powers were getting out of control in the middle of the street. "just.. leave them alone!" 

she took off, hoping to get away, she needed to get away.

————————————————–

as the sweet melody came to soft halt y/n smiled up at her sister. vanya donned a similar grin, placing her violin down and joining y/n on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against her bed.

"one day, you're going to be amazing, v" y/n mumbled quietly, looking like she was in a slight daze, "more amazing than you are now.. you're going to be a famous violinist, i can see it now. 'vanya hargreeves, the world's best violinist'" 

vanya softly nudged her shoulder, shaking her head. "no way, the world? c'mon" 

"i'm serious!" y/n was adamant, sitting up straighter to see her better, "you're gonna be so cool! and everyone here is going to see you and say 'damn, wish i had seen how awesome our sister was back then' and you're going to have lots of fans!"

vanya snorted, shyly brushing her long hair to the side, "yeah, right"

".. you won't forget me when you're famous, right?" y/n leaned back against the bed to avoid direct eye contact, her voice was much softer now. "don't forget me.. okay?" she nervously side eyed her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"i could never" vanya shook her head, leaning into the h/c haired girl. both of them shared small content grins.

————————————————–

as she walked upstairs to five's room she heard a commotion, hopefully he hadn't gotten into a fight with one of their siblings again, right?

wrong.

"put her down" five snarled, holding a gun up to luther who held dolores' body out the window. y/n grinned at the sight, highly amused. who would have thought luther would ever threaten someone? well, y'know excluding their missions.. but five nonetheless? she leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossing and waiting for them to sort out whatever issue she walked in on.

"put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today. i know she's important to you so don't make me do this" luther paused, waiting to see what five would do. "it's either her or the gun.. you decide"

eventually five did decide that dolores was more important and dropped the gun before spacial jumping to catch dolores before she could fall. not that much damage would have occurred to the mannequin anyways, maybe a few scratches.

"i can keep doing this all day" luther spoke triumphantly, now holding the gun at his side. y/n snorted, catching their attention.

"you're such children" both glared at her in response, "c'mon, surely you have a better plan than whatever ended up in this-" she gestured vaguely between them, "squabble"

"we did not squabble" five hissed, placing dolores down and straightening his jacket. "but yes, i do have a one other plan" 

————————————————–

the three of them, five, luther and y/n, drove down an empty road before slowing to a stop. five unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, looking around.

"you know, i never enjoyed it" he started and luther turned to him in confusion.

"what?"

"the killing. i mean i was- i was good at my work and i took pride in it but it never gave me pleasure" he took a deep breath, "i think it was all those years alone. solitude can do funny things to the mind"

"yeah well, you were gone for such a long time.. i only spent four years on the moon but that was more than enough. it's the being alone that breaks you" luther placed a hand on the briefcase, "you think they'll buy it?"

"well, what i do know is that they're desperate. it's like a cop losing his gun" he alluded, "if the commission finds out they'll be in deep shit, well not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back"

"i should hold onto it" luther suggested, patting it with one hand.

"hm?" five's eyebrows furrowed,

"incase they make a move on you" he added to explain his point.

"okay, luther.. but be careful. i've lived a long life but.. you're still a young man, you've got your whole life ahead of you. don't waste it" y/n snorted and five turned to her, unamused.

"what?" they stared at each other for a moment before five shook his head, looking away with a small smile.

suddenly a car began to drive towards them and they all made to get out of the car. "here we go" five sighed again, he was doing that a lot, y/n realised.

the car continued to drive past them, stopping a few metres away.

"if this all goes sideways.. do me a favour and tell dolores i'm sorry" five turned to luther who nodded slowly.

as five walked away from them y/n leaned back against the car.

"i have a bad feeling about this" she nervously picked at her nails and luther frowned, looking over at her.

"why? what's wrong?"

"that.. i don't know yet" she looked down the road, "i just.. feel like something's off" she shook her head as five walked back, leaning next to her.

luther stepped forwards a bit, "what happens now?"

"now we wait" 

barely a moment later they heard the music of an ice cream truck. y/n squinted against the sun and wind, trying to work out who it was. she took a moment to focus, sensing klaus, diego and ben. uh oh.

as the car got closer luther turned to five, "is that her?"

"luther, you idiot" y/n shook her head, "it's klaus and diego" right on time klaus waved to them as they passed.

the two assassins begun shooting, thinking it was a set up and y/n raised her arms to cover her head as luther stepped in front of her and five to block any shots.

suddenly time stopped.. well, only for five.

he frowned down at y/n next to him, the girl cowering in on herself. he felt bad for bringing her into something like this but she was very persistent.

he slowly stepped under luther's arm, looking at everyone frozen in slight confusion.

"neat trick, isn't it?" a feminine voice called out behind him and he turned to face the woman he had asked to see. the handler. she stared at him, pulling the veil over her face up and onto her hat instead before pulling her sunglasses off.

"hello, five" she smiled, "you look good.. all things considered" she softly gestured to all of him.

"it's good to see you again" he nodded back,

"feels like we met just yesterday, 'course you were a little bit older then" she teased, "congratulations on the age regression, by the way. very clever, threw us all off the scent"

"ah, well, i wish i could take credit" five shrugged, looking away. "i just miscalculated the time dilation of projections and.. well, you know, here i am" his gaze met hers once again, throwing his hands up before putting them back in his pockets, casually.

"you realise your efforts are futile" the handler shifted so that her briefcase was behind her, "so, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"i want you to put a stop to it" five moved his own hands behind his back. 

"you realise what you're asking for is next to impossible even for me" she shook her head, "what's meant to be is meant to be. that's our raison d'etre" 

"yeah?" five smiled sarcastically, pulling a gun from his shorts "well how about survival as a raison?" 

"i'll just be replaced, i am but a small cog in a machine" the handler waved it off, ignoring the gun pointing straight at her heart. "this fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that.. a fantasy. i must say though, we'll quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-it-tiveness, really quite- quite something. which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the commission, in management" the handler held a hand up, smiling like her offer was an obvious choice.

"sorry what's that now?" five scoffed as she stepped closer, hand tightening on the gun.

"come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong" 

"well, it didn't work out too well the last time" he glared up at her, not liking the persistence.

"oh but you wouldn't be in the correction department any longer, i'm talking about the home office, you'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel" she laughed freely, "you're a distinguished professional in.. school boy shorts. we have the technology to reverse the process. i mean you- you can't be happy like this" she slowly pushed his gun down, stepping ever closer.

"i'm not looking for happy" he spat through gritted teeth.

the handler only tilted her head, eyeing him carefully before raising a hand to stroke his cheek, "we're all looking for happy. we can make that happen, we can make you.. yourself again"

five huffed a laugh, gesturing to his siblings. "what about my family?"

"what about them?" the handler raised an eyebrow, acting like she didn't already know he intended to save them.

"i want them to survive" 

the handler took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of luther protecting y/n who was still crouching against the car as well as diego and klaus who were in the middle of crashing the ice cream truck.

"all of them?" 

"yes, all of them" he narrowed his eyes at her,

the handler gave him a small smirk, moving towards the recoiled girl. five watched carefully, waiting to see what she would do.

"it's such a shame.. she would have done well with us. if only we could take her too" she reached a hand out, about to touch her but five moved first, spacial jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand. he held her away from y/n.

"don't touch her" he snarled, unmoving from his protective stance. 

"my my, five, i didn't expect such protectiveness from you" the handler merely smirked, stepping away. as they walked back she once again proposed her deal.

"well" the handler begun, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out her sunglasses before putting them back on her face. "i'll see what i can do from them.. do we have a deal?" she reached a hand out to him, awaiting his acceptance. he merely stared at her hand before sighing,

"one thing" five stepped back, putting his gun in his shorts again. he walked over to hazel's gun on the floor, taking out the ammunition and chucking it on one side of the road before chucking the rest of the gun to the other. he turned and walked back, noticing the bullet headed towards luther and y/n. he frowned, using his pointer finger and thumb to move it over so that it would hit the car instead of them.

as soon as he shook her outstretched hand they disappeared and time was restored.

y/n shivered, ignoring the bullet hitting the car next to her and the way her siblings scrambled around to get away quick. she allowed herself to be shoved into the car with klaus and diego, spaced out.

"you alright?" diego turned to her while klaus stuck the middle finger up at hazel and cha cha. 

"i felt someone else.. it was only for a moment but i felt someone.." she spoke solemnly, staring at her shaking hands. "and then five just.. disappeared"

tag list: (if your name is crossed i couldnt tag you) @rxses-and-reverie @lostgreekgod @on-yourmark-99 @bicyhot1 @navs-bhat @midnightmystic @shawkneecaps @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @velveticxyyy

[five-rivers]

Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

.

.

.

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

.

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

[kythed]

“pillow talk” - a collection of conversations between you and matsukawa issei.

1. october 23rd, 1:03am.

“that was fun.” matsukawa props himself up on one elbow, lower half still covered by a disarray of blue dorm sheets.

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling your t-shirt back on, but you turn to look at him, smiling slightly. “fun?” 

“great. excellent. out of this world amazing,” he says teasingly. there’s a glint in his eye and a flush in his cheeks. 

“that’s what I thought.” you make to stand up, but matsukawa grabs your wrist before you can move another muscle. 

“you can stay,” he says, face strangely hopeful and childlike (a sharp contrast to the night’s earlier… activities). “if you want, I mean.” 

your body aches to climb back under the covers with him, to press yourself against his hot skin and let yourself fall asleep in his embrace… but what you have with matsukawa is new and fragile, and you refuse to close your fist on something delicate and shatter it in the process. 

“maybe next time. I have class in the morning.” advanced calculus, to be specific. hell on earth, to be even more specific. 

“will there be a next time?” there it is again. that hope. 

“if you’ll have me,” you say, rising from the mattress.

“I’ll do more than have you.” he grins, cocking his head. “I’ll take you.” 

and there it is — matsukawa issei, ladies and gents. you smile to yourself as you slip out of his room, committing the feel of his hands gripping your hips and his lips on yours to memory. 

2. october 27th, 4:36pm. 

you stay this time. it’s a weeknight, and there’s class in the morning again, but the bed is warm and matsukawa’s arm fits like it was made for you. he’s nervous, you can tell, what with the way his fingers shake slightly as they brush the hair from your eyes — but that’s okay. it’s endearing. cute, even. 

“hey,” he says, voice low and throaty. 

“hi,” you respond, turning your face to look at him, his sharp, angular face shaded even more dramatic by moonlight. he really is a little too pretty for his own good, you decide, running a light hand down his torso. his mouth twitches when your fingers skim over his waistband and back up again. 

“tease,” he sighs, and you laugh. 

“it’s what I’m best at,” you say. 

“among other things,” matsukawa concedes, grinning. you gasp and hit him lightly on the chest.

“you’re so dirty minded!” you scold, and he scoffs. 

“I’m the dirty minded one? listen sweetheart, twenty minutes ago you were —” 

you shut him up with a swift kiss on the lips, swallowing his indignant words as he chuckles somewhere in the back of his throat and pulls you on top of him. you slide your fingers into his mess of dark hair and smile into the kiss until he finally breaks away and begins dusting smaller kisses along your jaw and collarbone. 

“you know,” you breathe, trying to avoid gasping when matsukawa presses his mouth to that soft spot right below your neck, “you’re acting awfully boyfriend today, issei. you’d better be careful before I up and decide to make you mine.”

“maybe that’s what I want you do to,” he says without looking at you. 

you start in surprise, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “oh, really?” 

matsukawa unattaches himself from your neck and takes your face in his hands, staring up at you with a grin. “really.” 

“okay,” you say, and in response he squishes your cheeks and laughs. you roll your eyes and tug on his wrists until he lets go. “okay, boyfriend.”

“okay, girlfriend.” 

you’d never anticipated a relationship to fall into place so easily. but then again, with matsukawa, everything — everything from his sweet talk to his skin to his stupid pickup lines — is pretty damn smooth.

3. january 1st, 11:24pm.

“you have a nice nose,” he says, running a finger down its bridge. golden afternoon light slices through the gaps in his shutters, casting odd stripes across his face.

“I hate my nose.” you bite back a sheepish smile. “it’s weird.”

“no, it’s cute,” he insists, and despite yourself, your heart swells. maybe it’s silly, maybe it’s shallow, but nothing really beats having someone refute your insecurities, however insignificant they may be. “I’m the one with a weird nose.”

you sit straight up, nearly knocking him back. “you do not have a weird nose. I love your nose!” 

“I love your face.” matsukawa gently pulls you back down, gathering you into his chest so he can rest his chin on your shoulder. 

“well, it is a pretty nice face,” you say, and he huffs.

“you were supposed to say you love my face, too,” he whines in a small voice. you almost giggle at the thought of this six foot two giant baby-talking to you.

“I thought that was self-explanatory,” you say. “I like everything about you.”

matsukawa shoots you a dramatic glare, furrowing his brows. “yesterday you said you didn’t like my t-shirt.”

“it was a rick and morty t-shirt! I was morally obligated to disparage your fashion taste in that moment,” you say piously. 

“so you don’t like everything about me,” matsukawa sighs, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “my girlfriend is a liar.” 

“I like everything about you except for the fact that you like rick and morty,” you correct yourself. 

“I like everything about you except for the fact that you don’t like rick and morty,” matsukawa shoots back, and you let out an ugly guffaw. 

“alright, then. agree to disagree?”

before answering, he leans forward to give you a brief kiss that you return, enjoying the faint taste of spearmint on his lips. “you’ll come around eventually.” 

“I really won’t.”

“you will.”

“I won’t.”

“you won’t.”

“I will,” you say, and then — “wait, no. damn it, issei, I can’t believe that worked on me.”

“gotcha!” 

4. march 20th, 3:16am. 

“dude,” matsukawa says. “we should go out for ramen.”

“did you just call me dude?” you raise an incredulous eyebrow. 

“sorry,” he says, sitting upright and pulling on a shirt. “I meant babe. can we get ramen?”

“it’s 3am,” you say, catching the shirt he tosses to you and putting it on. “is there any place nearby that’s still open at this hour?” 

matsukawa whisks you out of bed, bridal style, and spins you around, ignoring your protestations as you attempt to scold him between giggles. when he finally sets you down you’re dizzy, clinging to him for balance. “obviously you don’t understand the ramen business. when the craving hits, it hits, and these guys know that. that’s why there’s a 24 hour ramen-ya near every college campus in the country.” 

“then,” you say, blinking hard as the room comes back into focus. “I say we go eat.” 

“let zem eat ramen?” matsukawa says in a phony french accent. you want to roll your eyes but you can’t quite bring yourself to do so. he’s too damn charming about it. 

“let zem eat ramen,” you repeat, and he laughs, rumpling your hair before grabbing his keys off the bedside table. 

“you’re adorable.”

“I’m a legal adult,” you sigh. “why do you insist on calling me cute? I’m sexy.”

“you’re cute and sexy,” he agrees, opening the door for you. “the two are not mutually exclusive.” 

“fancy words.”

“I’m just trying to impress you,” he says with an obnoxious wink. 

5. april 4th, 1:58am. 

“do you think there’s life in space?” 

you’re lying side by side next to matsukawa, both staring up at his dorm room ceiling, where a handful of plastic stars glow in the dark. 

he snickers. “you mean, like, martians? little green men with antennae?”

“sure,” you say, ignoring his jab. “or maybe enormous space whales swimming somewhere deep in the cosmos. galactic empires of cyborgs and robot servants. train stations that take you from star to star.” 

“that reminds me,” he says. you feel him slip his fingers into your hand. “we should watch star wars together sometime.” 

“you avoided the question,” you complain, and he laughs. 

“sorry,” he says. “I’ve never given much thought to huge space whales or interplanetary train stations.”

“you’ve never wondered might be out there? never wanted to fly to the moon and see what there is to see?” the thought is alien (pun intended) to you. how could anyone look into the star speckled sky and see anything other than a mass of worlds waiting to be explored? 

“I don’t need to. kinda have everything I could ever want here on earth already.” matsukawa shrugs, flashing you a grin. “good friends. perfect girlfriend. a really excellent ramen shop down the street.” 

“and that’s all you need?”

“that’s all I need,” he agrees, and you stay silent, scooting closer to press yourself into matsukawa’s larger frame. maybe he has a point. you count over your blessings in your head: good friends, perfect boyfriend, a really excellent ramen shop down the street. even space whales can’t really compare, you decide, sneaking a glance at issei only to find he’s already looking down at you with a soft smile. 

and maybe that’s enough. maybe it’s enough to have someone who loves you and your flaws, someone who lets you borrow his dumb graphic tees and never lets you pay for your own dinner. maybe what you have here with matsukawa issei, feet on the ground and hands intertwined, is enough.

[thenumbersgameif]

The Numbers Game Incorrect Quote -- Part 2

Zero: One got into a fight. 

Three: That’s bad. 

Three: 

Three: Did they win?

______________________

Zero Remember! Curiosity killed the cat! 

One: Yes, but you forget that satisfaction brought it back. So yes, Four, go find out if that thing can catch fire! 

Zero: You're a bad influence. 

One: And you don't know your sayings.

______________________

One: Define “dream”. 

Three: Dream - the first thing people abandon when they learn how the world works. 

Zero: That’s too dark!

______________________

Three: I lost One. 

Zero: How did you LOSE ONE?! 

Three: To be fair, they are very small.

______________________

Zero: One and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. 

Three: What did you do? 

Zero: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- 

One: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

______________________

Zero, trying to impress Four: I re-initialized the entire command structure, retaining all programmed abilities but deleting the supplementary preference architecture. 

Three: They turned it off and back on again.

______________________

Zero: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically. 

One: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes. 

Three: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting. 

One: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

______________________

Three: One! What did I tell you about lying? 

One, looking down: ...That it only works on Zero.

______________________

Three: Which way did Four go? 

One: Well, based on the direction of the wind, the broken sticks in the corner, and the slight disturbance in the dirt, I'd guess they went left. 

Zero: You could really figure it out from that? 

One: No, you idiot, Four sent me a text. See?

______________________

Zero: Three isn't talking to me. 

One: Enjoy it while it lasts.

______________________

Zero: Why would anyone want to harm One? 

Three: Maybe because they met them?

______________________

Zero: Yesterday, I overheard Four saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and One replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

______________________

One: We’re about to do the taser challenge. You want in? 

Zero: What's the taser challenge? 

One: We tase each other, then drink. 

Zero: How do you win? 

One: What are you, a lawyer? You want in or not?

______________________

Four: Well, has Three been wrong before? 

One: How wide are we willing to open this up?

______________________

Three: One, get that hideous thing out of the living room, would you? 

One: Four, Three wants you to get out of the house.

______________________

Zero: I hope you have an explanation for this. 

Four: We have three actually- 

One: Pick your favorite.

______________________

Four: One doesn’t look very happy. 

Three: That's their happy. They're just a bitch.

______________________

Zero: I think Four is in trouble. 

One: Alright. Struggling to give a fuck, if I’m honest.

______________________

Four, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs? 

One: It means like in hand-to-hand combat. 

Four: Ohhhh- 

Zero: Both of you get out of this kitchen.

______________________

Three: Do you cook? 

Zero: I made a cake once. 

One: Yeah, it was good. 

Zero: Really? 

One: Don’t make me lie twice, Zero.

______________________

One, to Four: You know, the target can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching. 

One: *blows airhorn at the target* GET FUCKED!

______________________

Four, holding a rock: Zero just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock". 

Three: If you don't marry them, I will.

______________________

One: So, are you two dating now? 

Zero & Four: Yes. 

One: Why? 

Four: I happen to find Zero very appealing. 

One: Yeah, I can understand that. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with Zero.

______________________

Zero: One, I am questioning your sanity... 

Three: I never questioned it, I knew their sanity was missing from the start.

______________________

Zero: Can we talk about that mass email you sent? 

One: Why? It was important. 

Three: All it says is, "I'm back on my shit". 

One, shrugging: The people need to know.

______________________

One: Uh, I think I got your lunch. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘I am very proud of you. Love, Zero’* 

Three: Oh yeah. I didn’t think this was for me. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘Be good. For the love of God, Please be good.’*

______________________

Four, about One: Zero, they're an asshole! They have purposely stabbed you on more than one occasion! 

Zero: Some of those stabbings were accidental! 

Four:

Zero: Okay, well, I know for a fact the third time was accidental.

______________________

Three: What’s it like being tall? 

Three: Is it nice? 

Three: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards? 

Zero: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want. 

One: It was one time!

______________________

Four: Is One always like this when they lose? 

Three: Oh, yes. You should've been there for the Great Jenga Tantrum of 2020. 

One: You bumped that table and you know it!

______________________

One: If you think you’re unattractive, just look into the mirror. Now you know you’re unattractive. Education.

______________________

Three: Would you slap Four- 

One: Yes. 

Three: I didn't even finish! 

One: Sorry, continue. 

Three: Would you slap Four for 10 dollars? 

One: I would do it for free. 

Four: Rude...

______________________

One: I was crying for three hours! And neither one of you offered me a hug!

Zero: Alright, bring it in.

One: Don’t fucking touch me!

Three: *Under their breath* This is why nobody hugs you.

______________________

Three: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

______________________

Four: I got arrested for being too cool. 

One: The charges were dropped because there was no supporting evidence.

______________________

Three: Zero, I need relationship advice. 

Zero: Just cause I married Four doesn't mean I know how I did it- 

______________________

Zero: Look, we don't want any trouble. 

One: I do. 

______________________

Three: I’m sad. 

Zero: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. 

Four: I’m sad. 

One, nodding: mood. 

______________________

One: NOW SAY YOU'RE FUCKING SORRY! 

Zero: I'M SORRY! 

One: AND WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR?! 

Zero: FOR SAYING THAT YOU'RE AGGRESSIVE! 

______________________

Boss, discussing the team: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group. 

Three: On purpose? 

Zero: Are we stealing them? 

One: New or used? 

Boss: Wonderful responses, the lot of you. 

______________________

Someone: Wait, I thought you were straight? 

Three: ... 

Three: Please tell me what on God's green earth I did to make you think I was straight so I can never do it again. 

______________________

Four: One says “I love you” weird. 

Three: How? 

Four: Watch this. One, I love you. 

One: I’d kill for you. 

______________________

Three: I’m having second thoughts. 

One: You had a first thought? 

______________________

One: one of my idiots is mad at me. 

Four: one of your... do you mean Three and Zero? 

One: that’s what i said. 

______________________

Three: have I ever told you that you cook well? 

Zero: aw, no you haven’t :) 

Three: so why do you keep cooking 

______________________

One: I hope you have the day you deserve 

Four: 

Four: is that supposed to be a threat or a compliment? 

One: I think you know

______________________

Zero: You will simply have to trust us 

Three: Remember to chisel that into my tombstone. 

______________________

One: Zero is a good person. They’ve got a good heart. They don’t hold a grudge. That's what they have me for. 

______________________

Three: Zero- 

One: You love us, right? 

Zero: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like. 

______________________

One: I have an idea, but I'm going to need your permission. 

Zero: Since when you need my permission? 

One: Because if I mess it up, I don't want it to be just my fault. 

______________________

Zero: I don't struggle with anxiety, it actually comes very easily to me. 

______________________

Zero: Are you ready to commit? 

One: A crime or a relationship?

______________________

Three: I've worked with professionals, mercenaries, grunts from many evil organizations... and yet no one's behaviour has been as utterly confusing as yours. 

Zero: Thank you! 

Three: It's not a compliment. 

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Hi!!!! i love our writing and i just knew you could do this! Could you do one with a father Aizawa and a gender nuetral chil reader, who is jealous of Midoriya. Because when Midoriya harnesses his quirk Aizawa be happy dadzawa but when the reader was like 6 or 7 and harnessed theirs he said like " Work harder." Or the world won't want a weak hero and stuff and thats why they hate Midoriya and stuff? IT IS SOO FINE OF YOU CANT!! THANKS <3

•Midoriya is nice.

• He's /so/ fucking nice

• He has a nice smile

• His freckles are nice

• His attitude is great

• He goes out of his way to make sure people are okay

• Which makes it worse and pisses you off more.

• You've been jealous of him for awhile- please he's the center of attention for everyone

• But that isn't your problem

• He's the center of attention for your own dad.

• At least it seemed that way.

• Shota Aizawa, your father, was a teacher at U.A.

• He was bound to get attached to students, that's what teachers are supposed to do

• But..it felt like you were on the back burner and not enough

• when you develop your quirk, you dad gives you a speech

• You're first sucess with your quirk, your father tells you to work harder

• And that's all it ever is

• "work harder"

• "you should be farther along by now,"

• "this isn't a joke, why are you treating it that way?"

• there wasn't a good job or a congrats or praise

• But there was with midoryia

• who got all of it.

• he got good jobs and impresseds

• He got way to go kid and that was smart

• At the beginning of the year you liked him

• He was friendly and funny and he seemed like a cool dude

• He was a cool dude and you hated him- yourself even more for that

• You couldn't ever hate him, not truly.

• Not even when your father praised him, took him under his wing, focused on him

• Even shinsou- you didn't hate him. You were great friends with him.

• But Midoriya irked you, even if you couldn't find it in you to talk behind his back or fuck him over

• Your jealousy for the boy only grew as your fathers praise to him grew and his words to you grew distanced.

• And yet you still thrived for the man's approval

• You wanted to be recognized

• You wanted validation

• You wanted praise and approval.

• You wanted love.

• You stopped speaking to Midoriya, completely. The poor boy didn't deserve a blow up from you, it wasn't his fault.

• Contact to him stopped. His conversation muted unless it was to the class Group Chat

• Your seat? Unfortunately still near him, was no longer an issue if you just ignored his presence

• If your group was hanging put with him that day, you'd skip with some dumb homework excuse.

• No one said anything

• Aside from shinsou that is.

• The smart-ass always had something to say

• "You can't just ignore your problems forever."

"I'm not, till talking to you."

"Funny. But seriously. He's going to question it if he hasn't already. Word gets around.."

• In all seriousness, shinsous worried. He's really worried.

• He's watching you distance yourself from people, from midoryia- hell the only reason the two of you still talk on a daily basis is because he forces it.

• You don't mind, of course, he know that. You did the same to him when his mental health had declined.

• But he sees you're doing it for validation

• Amd he knows Aizawas words aren't malicious. You're his kid, he's worried and wants you to survive over anyone else.

• Doesn't mean how he's going about it is right.

• and it isn't long before you start taking physical training to the max too.

• After class you train for hours until dinner.

• Sometines you miss it; sometimes you don't get home until much later.

• One day in particular though, you start training on a Saturday morning

• He tells you to be smart, keep hydrated and take breaks before he leaves for the day

• Only to come back at dusk to you still training

• "Quirks are currency shinsou,"

"That doesnt-"

"I have to get stronger, no one's going to want a weak hero"

"Y/N please- you've been out here all day. It's hot and muggy and you've barley eaten anything. You need breaks. You can't be a strong pro hero if you die of heat exhaustion." He takes your arm and pulled it down from the punching bag. "You're worrying me."

"I'm not strong enough," you mumble. "Dads right,"

• Eventually Midoriya starts to question why you're ignoring him

• He doesn't think he's done anything wrong

• Maybe he said the wrong thing? But what even is the wrong thing? What could he have said?

• After one particularly rough morning, you're struggling with something

• You're already pissed and ready for the day to be over.

• And it's only 10 in the fucking morning

• And Midoriya, desperate to heal what he once had with a friend (you), walks over to help

"Hey," he starts. "You look like you need some help?"

You pause, glancing in his direction for only a moment. "Go sit down," You mutter.

"I just want to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. You are the LAST thing I need," you snap. "Who the fuck would /ever/ need you?" You grab your bag and shove him back, leaving the classroom.

The class quiets.

• Midoriya didn't deserve it, no. You knew that.

• You also knew that you weren't in the place to go back to school, so you didn't.

• You took the day off, wandering the streets of your prefecture

• Shinsous blowing up your phone

• Katsuki is too.

• Katsukis upset, you would be too if someone spoke to your friend that way

• Everyone else is too on edge to text you, they're worried though.

• Of course, they go to Aizawa.

• They tell him what happened and how you've been acting

• And he nods quietly and says he'll take care of it.

• Shinsou finally finds you at the Cafe you frequent and he quietly sits across from you

• "you should be in school," you mumble

"So should you."

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again. "I think I'm going to leave U.A. Mom lives in Miyagi, they've got some nice highschools there. I talked to her over the phone last night."

"What? What no, you can't?"

"Why not, Hitoshi?"

"Because you're a hero-"

"I'm not. I'm not a fucking hero. I haven't made any successes while I've been here, I haven't developed anything, Dad was right."

"You dad was wrong. He's wrong. He's- He's worried one day you're not going to come home. Or when you do you won't be in one piece, so he's pushing you and pushing you," he took your hand gently. "You're strong. You're going to be a great hero. You've already accomplished more than you know."

"I blew up at Midoriya today," you slide him your drink and he takes a sip.

"I know." He nods. "But that's okay, we can deal with it later." He squeezed your hand.

"Yeah, later,"

• It's very much later by the time you reach your dorm.

• The day Shinsou moved to the 1A dorms was the day you'd rejoice

• Your bag is tossed to the side and you make your way to the kitchen and freeze.

• Aizawa is sitting at the table, facing you.

"Your friends are worried about you,"

Yous scoff. "Yeah I'm sure they are."

"Midoryias worried about you."

"I really don't care."

"You shouldn't have snapped at him." Aizawa sighs.

"Thats-" you take a deep breath. Of course he only cared about Midoriya. "Typical." You move to the fridge to get something to drink.

"I..apologize," he begins. "'It's come to my attention that I haven't exactly been the best father to you since your mother left,"

"You think?" You muttered.

"I'm worried. I'm scared."

You look up at him.

"The world is cruel. And I've lost so many students to hero work in the years I've taught, I wouldn't be able to handle it if I lost you to. But it seems I'm already down the path." He stood up and walked over to you. "You're my kid, I love you more than the moon and the stars, I want you to stay safe. Above everyone else, above all else, I want you to come home." He kisses your forehead.

"It'd be nice to get a good job every once in awhile. Everyone else does." You mutter, looking down.

"You are doing great, you know. I don't say it nearly enough but you impress me everyday."

• It's...a little awkward after that, neither of you know how to process emotion so after two days you just pretend like it never happened

• You quietly apologize to Midoriya and wall away before he can respond before pretending like that didn't happen either

• You're not expecting him to want to be your friend

• But he's very adamant on texting you, inviting you out, walking with you you to class

• 1A becomes whole again

• But Shota does ease up, you get the good jobs, the praise, the validation

• And you eat it up to be frank, you fucking love it.

[whorangdan]

pretty boy

part one of what i'm hoping will be a series. i decided not to split this so it is a bit lengthy, i apologize.

around 3.7k words, shy!virgin!joshua, praise kink, slight finger sucking, blowjobs, overuse of the word pretty, pretty boys being pretty, reader is shameless, joshua's a wreck, soonyoung cameo at the beginning, sorta proofread, sorry for any mistakes xx

you've always taken a liking to the pretty boy living in the apartment across yours. you've seen him around campus and had him for one of your classes so it wasn't like you were a total stranger, you two had interacted before. like the times the two of you left your apartments at the same time and awkwardly bowed your heads towards each other before the both of you went your respective ways.

you had to admit, the boy was cute. his black hair messily fanned across his forehead, and you've seen the way his eyes slip into crescent moons whenever you catch a glimpse of him smiling during class. you'd be lying if you said he didn't interest you.

deciding to get closer to the pretty boy, you approach him during class. from the short talk you had with him you found out two things. 1, his name, joshua, and 2, he was valedictorian of his graduating class in highschool.

you had given him your number, passing it off with some shitty excuse of "if any one of us ever misses class we can catch the other up, yeah?"

luckily for you joshua didn't seem to think twice about your lame excuse. he nodded, chuckling as you saved your number into his phone. you cursed your heart as you felt it flutter at his laugh. damn it.

______________________________________

the next time you saw him was at a café. he was a few people ahead of you in line. the boy picked up the hot chocolate he ordered and made his way to a table in the corner. cute. your thoughts were interrupted when someone behind you coughed, signalling for you to order. embarrassed, you mutter an apology and quickly order your drink to catch up to him.

"hi joshua! is it alright if i sit here?" you asked warily, slightly afraid he would say no. but of course, this was joshua hong.

he nodded, "of course. i was going to get in some extra studying before my next class but this is okay as well!"

"oh shit i'm so sorry. i could leave if you'd like?"

joshua brushes it off, "oh no you're fine, i've prepared enough, really!" he returns the smile you pass him and you feel your heart soar.

the rest of your time at the café is filled with mindless chattering of the project your professor assigned, the upcoming exam for your class, and joshua's work habits. you learn he loves being involved on campus, joining clubs and helping out when he can. you also learn he doesn't really take many breaks from school, instead opting to head to his apartment right after work.

"you really don't go out? not even by yourself?" you wonder, curious to how he even survives. junior year of college isn't the easiest. joshua blushes, not wanting to seem like a complete loser.

"well...i..i go to the shops a lot? to get food and stuff...and i go to the park a lot too? when i want to relax..." he trails off, not being able to think of anything else. his cheeks are red and he's shuffling nervously, awaiting your reply.

you simply smile. "that's cute, joshua. is it enough for you though? like, is it ever enough to feel completely free? sometimes it's good to forget about school, you know. there's a lot more to college than grades and studying," you tell him, sipping your drink. "not that it's a bad thing to focus on that stuff, of course." you add, not wanting to make him feel bad.

"i-i mean yeah..." he chews on his lip. "i'm kind of used to it all, i've been like this since highschool. sometimes it does become too much but there isn't really anything i can do about it." he finishes. you hum, impressed by his work ethic but also feeling pity for the poor boy.

"if it works then it works, nothing wrong with that. how about work?" you play with the straw in your drink.

"i work here, actually. it's not the most money, but it's enough for me to buy what i need, with a few dollars extra to buy miscellaneous items." he replies and as if on cue, an employee from the cafe strolls up to your table.

"hey, josh! you working later today?" the boy, who you recognize as soonyoung from one of your classes, wipes the table next to yours with a rag.

joshua nods, "after class, yes." soonyoung looks to you, stopping his cleaning.

"oh, hey y/n! i didn't know you knew joshua. small world, isn't it?" soonyoung laughs at his own comment.

joshua looks between the two of you, his brows furrowing. "you two know each other?"

"i have him for physics," you say at the same time soonyoung says, "i have her for physics!" the both of you stare at each other before soonyoung laughs and walks away, muttering something about how the world works in crazy ways.

you look over at joshua and he shrugs, sipping on his hot chocolate. you end up walking out of the café until the two of you need to part ways.

"see you in class, y/n!" joshua walks off hurriedly and you watch as the bunny keychain on his bag bounces with each step.

__________________________________

the two of you seemed to click together instantly and spent more time together than you first thought you would. you had a habit of going out together on the weekends and although at first it took an embarrassingly long time convincing joshua that it was okay to actually leave campus, now it's something he suggests himself. and it wasn't rare for joshua to spend the night over at your place, usually when the two of you are staying up late studying, but there are also times when joshua invites himself over, claiming he can't sleep. you don't understand how you help with that, especially since he sleeps on your couch on those nights but hey, you could never say no to him. you have been to his place before but most of your time together is spent at your place, seeing as you always have a full fridge.

of course with all positives come a negative, and you find your feelings for the pretty boy have become increasingly harder to ignore. through your time with him you've also learned he's incredibly fun to tease. the boy flushes at the mere mention of sex and doesn't seem to have any idea of even the basics. of course you aren't stupid and know very well what that means but joshua's always quick to shut any idea of him being a virgin down.

"i have done stuff before, y/n! i p-promise!" though the way he shuffles on his couch screams otherwise.

you chuckle. "i believe you, joshua, i swear. it's just fun to tease you like this. you become a blushing mess and it makes me want to ruin you." you tease, not really realizing the impact of your words until you notice joshua's cheeks flare up.

"...wh-what—what did you say?" joshua stutters, not daring to look up from where he's staring down at his hands.

"i was joking, shua! i wouldn't do anything to you if you didn't want me to." you laugh. hearing that makes joshua flush even more, your choice of words causing him to believe you want to do things to him.

"a-and...and if i wanted you to?" he admits after a couple minutes of silence. sighing, you take his shaking hand into yours.

"then i would do anything you'd ask. so long as you're okay with it." you shrug. joshua's mind is spinning, jealous at how you could be so casual with this while he was shaking like a leaf. it wasn't fair.

joshua slowly lifts his head and looks you in the eye, a look of determination settled on his face. "i want you to," his shaky voice betrays him and you smile fondly, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek. "to ruin me." he finishes.

"you're so cute, joshua. really, you are. have you ever kissed anyone, pretty?" the new nickname has joshua almost whimpering, not used to this kind of attention.

he shakes his head, "n-no...i haven't really...done anything...with anyone..." his head drops in shame.

you lift his head to look at you, staring into his eyes. "there's nothing to be ashamed of, pretty. i'll take care of you, if you allow me to." your words have him shuddering and he nods, so desperate already.

"i need words, joshua." he swears he almost moans then, biting his lip and managing to form a shaky yes.

dragging your hand to his neck you pull him in for a kiss. his lips slot against yours and you can tell he's nervous by the way his fingers tap against his thigh. you intertwine your other hand with his in hopes of calming his nerves. luckily it seems to work, his kisses becoming less shaky.

as the kisses become hotter and more desperate you pull away and he whines, chasing your lips.

"it's okay, baby. just a little change of position." you drag his thighs to pull him into your lap and he yelps, hands coming up to grip your shoulders. joshua flushes as the nickname and the closeness of you two hits him simultaneously.

"is this alright, pretty?" you hum, bouncing your intertwined hands on his thigh. joshua opens his mouth to answer but his breath gets caught in his throat and you laugh. he's so unbelievably precious. joshua nervously smiles at you.

you pull him in for a kiss again, your hand going up to his hair. deciding to experiment a bit you tug at his strands lightly and he moans into your mouth. pleased, you pull his hips closer to you. you detach from his lips and kiss down his jaw and neck. little whimpers leave joshua's lips and you see him bite his lips as if to muffle his noises.

"uh-uh don't hide your noises from me, pretty boy." your thumb reaches up to tug his bottom lip out from under his teeth. joshua nods and you take the time to examine how gorgeous he looks right now. his lips are swollen from the kissing and biting, black hair messier than you could ever imagine, and a blush lays prettily on his cheeks all the way down to his collarbones peeking out from his shirt.

his eyes are glazed over with desire and need. when he looks down at your thumb you get an idea. hesitantly, as if to just test the waters, you poke at his lips with your thumb, circling his mouth. as if reading your mind, he slowly opens his mouth, allowing you to slip your thumb between his lips.

"suck." you order, the rest of your fingers curling around his jaw. joshua obeys, his tongue and mouth working together to engulf your thumb. his head bobs and when you apply more pressure to his tongue his eyes slip shut, a cute whimper leaving him.

"oh, you like that? sucking on my fingers like this? of course you do. does it make you feel good?" joshua's moaning at your words, his hips beginning to lightly rub against yours. you chuckle at his pathetic attempts to pleasure himself.

"already so needy? i haven't even touched you and you're already so hard." he whines against your thumb. taking your thumb out of his mouth you pull him into another kiss, basking in the way he moans into your mouth.

"let's head to your room, yeah? your first time shouldn't be on a couch." you tap his thigh and he shuffles off your lap, taking your hand and leading you to his room. walking in you realize you've never been here before, and suddenly you're reminded of who it is you're doing this with.

his room is very clean and neatly organized. you take a second to look around, taking it all in. his desk is filled with random school stuff and you catch a glimpse of his assignment from your guys' class. on his dresser you see cute little houseplants, some random bottles you assume to be colognes and perfumes, and what looks to be a projector.

"what's this?" you gesture to it, walking closer to examine it properly.

"it's a...it's a star projector...when you turn it on it lights up and fills the room with little stars...i like turning it on when i can't sleep..." joshua nervously mumbles, scared you might find it childish. instead, you smile and you feel your heart melt. god how much cuter can he get.

turning around you see joshua sitting on the edge of the full sized bed in the middle of the room. he stares up at you and you notice the way his eyes are still glossy, and when you see the tent in his pants you remember what you're here for. dragging him into a kiss you push him into the mattress and he moans against your lips.

you hold yourself up with one hand and reach the other around to tug at his hair, using his moan as an opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth. grinding down on his clothed crotch he whines pathetically into your mouth.

you pull away and rest your forehead against his to catch your breath.

"...please..." joshua begs, unsure of what he's asking for himself.

"what do you want, joshua? tell me what you want, pretty." you grind against him once more and he whimpers needily.

"i don't...i don't know..." his cheeks flare up and you're reminded he has absolutely no experience whatsoever.

"that's okay, baby. i'll help you. it's all about you today, so tell me what you want. we don't have to do anything you don't want to, you can say no at anytime." you reassure him, sensing how nervous he is. kissing his cheek you pull away, sitting against the head board. he makes his way into your lap and let's his head fall onto your shoulder.

"i don't think i'm completely ready for it yet...i'm sorry y/n..." he trails off and you swear you hear him sniffle. your hand reaches up to card your fingers through his hair, pulling him away from your shoulder to face you.

"hey, listen, shua. don't apologize. at all. it's okay. look at me," his eyes are still focused on your shoulder, not wanting to meet your gaze. he shifts his eyes to your face and you can see how desperate he is and how his eyes are laced with worry. "we don't have to do anything you don't want to."

he nods and you kiss his nose, then his cheeks, and forehead, and nose again until you're littering tiny pecks all over his face and he's smiling again. you kiss him again, more innocent this time, and you try to convey your feelings for him through this kiss, letting him know you care for him regardless of whether you two have sex or not. you can tell the message gets through to him by the way he shyly looks down when you pull away.

the scene would look incredibly awkward to anyone else. joshua's sitting in your lap, head on your shoulder, with you gazing down at him warmly. the mood is most certainly not matching the hard on in joshua's sweatpants. but you found it all the more endearing, and you weren't going to make anymore advances unless he wanted it.

joshua is reminded of the problem in his pants and he flushes once more. he may not be ready for the real deal, but he certainly wants to get off tonight. slowly, he grinds his hips. you don't even notice he's doing it until his breath hitches and he grips onto your arms for leverage, quickening his pace.

"..a-ah...i'm sorry...im just–" he's cut off with a moan and you nod at him, signalling you understand.

"i know, baby, i know. do you want a little help?" he nods furiously. you guide his hips a bit more, thrusting up to meet his moves. the friction has joshua's eyes rolling back, not used to such sensations.

"do you want to get off on my thigh, pretty? or do you want more? what more can i do hmm..?" you hum, stroking joshua's hair as he keeps up his movements.

he shakes his head, "help me, please. please help me—touch me please." joshua reluctantly slows his thrusts, staring up at you with his pretty eyes. smiling, you nod. grabbing his wrists you change your positions, now hovering over him.

you kiss down his neck, nipping and sucking at the skin. joshua melts into the mattress, his hands gripping the sheets. you play with the bottom of his shirt, looking up at him. he nods, lifting his arms to allow you to slip the shirt over his head.

you take a minute to admire his body. his torso is slim and his skin is even, small moles littering his skin here and there. he's so gorgeous, you think. you let your eyes wander up to his neck, hickeys beginning to bloom, a pretty contrast with his fair skin. you're interrupted from your thoughts when joshua makes a noise of embarrassment, hands coming up to cover his blushing face.

"don't hide from me, joshua. you're beautiful." you coax, grabbing his wrists to lower his hands. you smirk at the way he whines at the praise.

"th-thank you..." you stroke his cheek before continuing your way down his torso to his waistband. you thumb at his pants and he lifts his hips, allowing you to slip the sweats off his legs.

joshua's face is burning up, not used to being so exposed. you're settled between his legs, hovering over the pretty boy.

"you look so pretty like this, shua. such a pretty boy you are." joshua whimpers, your words of praise going straight to his cock. you litter a few more kisses on his torso, going lower until you reach his boxers. you give open mouthed kisses to his length, the dark patch by his tip spreading the more you toy with him. moaning, joshua thrusts up against your mouth.

"no no, pretty. patience. i'll take care of you i promise. good boys wait patiently, and you're a good boy, right joshua? you'll be a good boy for me?" you tease, removing his boxers completely.

joshua nods desperately. "y-yes...i'm a good boy...your good boy..." he whines at his own words, the praise becoming too much. his neglected cock lays against his stomach, precum leaking over the tip and onto his belly. the hair down there is neatly trimmed and for whatever reason that makes you smile. cute.

"of course you are, joshua. my beautiful good boy. waiting so patiently." his hands are moving about, not sure where to put them as he tries his hardest not to grind his hips up. grabbing his wrists you hold them above his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead while you're there. "keep these up here, don't move. you can do that right?" joshua whimpers, nodding.

letting go of his wrists you turn your attention back to his cock. giving kitten licks to the head you glance up, taking in all of joshua's needy noises and using that to motivate you. you leave little kisses on the head before you take him into your mouth, joshua's hips jolting in response.

taking his entire length in your mouth was quite easy, not that he was small or anything, but he wasn't the biggest either. joshua's moans spill out of his mouth, hips slightly bucking before you rest a hand on his hips, stilling his body on the bed. your tongue circles his tip while your other hand works on the rest of his length. the extra attention to his sensitive head has joshua whining, breath catching in his throat when you lick over his slit.

"feels good—oh god—feels so good..." you pull off his cock, your hand still stroking him. you notice the way his hands are still right where you told him to keep them, his eyes shut in bliss as your hand works to pleasure him. you find yourself smiling at how obedient he is.

his legs wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him. leaning down you suck more marks onto his skin. joshua's moans are higher now, and with the way his hips are sloppily thrusting into your hand you're certain he's close.

"are you close, shua?" nodding, he opens his eyes to meet yours. "good boys ask for permission." your wrist works faster, thumb rubbing his slit.

"please...can i please...y-y/n...please can i cum..." he twitches against you, desperate for release. you jerk your wrist and joshua thrashes his head against the pillows, his thighs shaking with pleasure. you lean down to press soft kisses to his inner thighs, sucking marks onto the smooth skin.

"yes pretty boy, you can. cum for me, joshua." his back arches off the bed, streaks of cum coating his torso and your hand. you pull off when he's writhing from overstimulation, hands gripping the pillow above his head.

cute whimpers leave his lips when you clean him up, the post orgasm aftershocks combined with your gentle touches have him on cloud nine. joshua's eyes are closed, sweaty hair stuck to his forehead. as gently as you can you pull him into your lap, being mindful of how sensitive he still is.

you stroke his hair out of his forehead, caressing his cheeks while he comes down from his high.

"hello, pretty boy. you did so good for me, shua. you were wonderful." you coo when he opens his eyes, his lips turning upwards at your words. joshua opens his mouth to say something but he coughs last minute, throat scratchy from all his moaning.

"oh i'm sorry, pretty. here, drink up." you press a water bottle against his lips, guiding him. when he's had enough he pulls away, head immediately dropping back on your chest.

"how was it? did you enjoy it?" you question, intertwining your hand with his.

"it was good...thank you y/n." he smiles up at you, squeezing your hand. you return the smile, rubbing his back and coaxing him to rest. joshua's eyes shut and he drifts off to sleep.

sighing softly you shift your positions so joshua's laying next to you. he hugs your waist in his sleep, cuddling you closer to him and you wrap your hands around his naked waist. bringing the sheets up to cover the both of you, you let yourself rest as well.

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

[diaphragmjellyfish]

Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz NSFW Alphabet

Not my gif

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Hawk is pretty quiet after sex. He likes to lay there with you draped over his chest and a smirk on his face while you both catch your breath. If it was a particularly rough night he will get a wet cloth and clean you off before getting snacks and turning on some rock music or an action movie. He’s almost always the big spoon when cuddling.

B: Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also yours)

His favorite body part of yours is your face. He thinks you look so innocent and pure like a literal ray of sunshine. A complimentary opposite to his look. He especially likes how sweet you look while doing certain *ahem* activities. His favorite body part of his are his abs. He worked hard for them and they give him confidence. He loves when you run your hands down them while y’all are making out.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Hawk likes to cum on your face or inside you. You guys are young and not at all ready for kids so you always wrap it up, which is why he usually cums on your face. He could honestly finish just thinking about how you look covered in him like that. When it’s a super passionate or romantic night he prefers to finish inside you with or without the condom. He just likes to look deep in your eyes.

D: Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory)

He’s always wanted to try anal. His tattoo buddy Rico told him it was awesome, and he’s wanted to do it ever since. He’s nervous to ask you though because he would never want you to be in pain. When you eventually tell him you want to give it a go, he’s beyond excited but also super gentle.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Hawk is somewhat experienced, but his confidence makes up for anything he might not be sure about. He was with Moon for a few months and learned all the basics, but it’s with you that he really starts to experiment. He’s also a super quick learner.

F: Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

The boy loves to try new things. You guys are making your way through the Kama-sutra. He still thinks you can never go wrong with the classics though- missionary and cowgirl. As long as he can touch you he’s a happy guy.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they more humorous, etc.)

He almost always is wearing a smirk when y’all are going at it. He’s more serious than goofy at first just because he feels like he has something to prove but once you guys get comfortable and he knows he can be himself around you, he lets loose a little and will crack a joke or two during.

H: Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

God I wish I could say the carpet matched the drapes lmaooo imagine a little mini mohawk. But fr he’s probably trimmed. Nothing too fancy but he keeps it clean.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He’s a romantic at heart, but only for you. He’d never tell anyone but on Valentine’s day he goes all out. Rose petals, candles, a massage. And he loves to buy you lingerie to wear for him.

J: Jack off )Masturbation hc)

He does it a lot when he’s by himself because he can’t believe he got such a sexy mf as his girl. He always thinks of you. If he’s ever too frustrated from training or a tournament he’ll rub one out by himself so he doesn’t take out his anger on you. He’d never want to hurt you. But if you’re there, he obviously prefers you over his hand.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Anal, Hair pulling, choking, he loves when you bite his shoulder when it feels good, or scratch his back so when he takes off his shirt at practice everyone knows he did a good job. He also loves to leave hickeys all over your neck and thighs. He’s a confident boi but he has an insecure past so he wants everyone to know you’re taken and taken well ;)

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He’ll take you anywhere and everywhere. Bed, the dojo, the canyon, on his motorcycle in an alley somewhere, he literally does. Not. care. You guys even did it in his mom’s Sentra while it was in the middle of the car wash

M: Motivation (What turns them on, what gets them going)

Any time you bend over, or ask him to help you with something like opening a jar, he likes to feel needed and wanted. You could honestly look at this boy funny and he’d pop a hard one.

N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do)

Anything that causes you pain. He would never slap you or make you gag on him or anything like that. Also threesomes are out, whether that’s with another guy or another girl, he wants it to be just you and him always.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

The first time you went down on him he thought he was gonna explode. He couldn’t believe it was happening. But the first time he went down on you? He’d never heard such beautiful noises and he knew from then that he wanted to hear those little moans every day for the rest of his life. He’s got the basics down when you first get together, but after you show him what you really like and y’all start experimenting? God tier head.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

Honestly depends on the day. When you guys first meet he just wants to impress you so he’s super fast and rough, but once you tell him that slow and steady wins the race, he starts to take his time. You still enjoy a good pounding every once in a while though

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies)

He’s the king of quickies (not too quick tho if ya know what I mean). He’s a young guy, he’s horny all the time and doesn’t care if anyone sees. He’s doing what he wants when he wants as long as you’re ok with it.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment)

YES. It’s his favorite thing. You both love to get freaky and try new things. He’d do anything you ask him to do, and do it well.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for)

Ngl, when y’all first got together, this kid would bust in under 10 minutes. He’s a young guy, you were his second girlfriend ever, and he spent most of his childhood thinking he would never even talk to a girl like you. He bounced back fast though and could go for multiple rounds. And he’s built up stamina over time so no issues here.

T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them?)

He loves to use toys on you. In the beginning, you were having trouble reaching the summit *wink wink* no matter what he did. He was amazing, but for whatever reason you couldn’t quite finish. You told him it was fine but he said he couldn’t enjoy it if he knew you weren’t enjoying it. So one day he bought a tiny pink vibrator and held it between your legs while he fucked you and you LOST IT. Now he has several different toys that he uses on you all the time.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s not much of a tease. He likes to let you both have what you want. But he loves when you tease him. The anticipation of you hovering over him, not knowing when or if you would finally sink down, gets him that much more excited.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Kind of quiet, but lots of swearing and groaning. Literally the “ugh fuck” right in your ear as he sinks into you. He doesn’t like to be too loud (his old shy self is still there) and would rather hear you scream for him.

W: Wild Card (Random hc)

He is very much into foreplay. He likes to make sure you’re on the brink of orgasm before he even gets in you. Your only sexual experiences before you met him were guys just shoving themselves into you completely dry and when you told him that, he promised you he would never do that to you. He’s been a foreplay prodigy ever since. It’s his thing.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Probably about 5 or 6 inches, average girth. Honestly size really is overrated. The G spot is only 3 inches in I’m tired of everyone acting like bigger is better. You Don’t Need Much if they’re using it right and he definitely does.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive)

On a scale of 1 to 10, Hawk is an 11. He could fuck you all day every day for the rest of his life. Morning, noon, and night. Rich or poor, in sickness and in health (I got carried away lmao)

Z: ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep after)

Hawk likes to cuddle, eat snacks, and watch a movie after. Maybe it’s because he always felt insecure sleeping around other people as Eli but he always lets you fall asleep first. He loves to feel like he’s watching over and protecting you while you sleep on his chest. Literally when you’re in such a vulnerable state around him he feels so honored and would die before he let anyone lay a finger on you.

[midnightwinterhawk]

I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom​ for the inspiration. 

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

-

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

--

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter​

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After  years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos,  it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a  suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles  would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

//

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

[gallifrey1sburning]

Hi 👋 a prompt you can take or leave: Draco is very unsure whether he is being flirted with or this is an extension of their office rivalry that he doesn't understand (or the reverse!) Ty!

@skeptiquex and @ihavesomeideawhatimdoinghere, I read both of your prompts back to back, and they worked really well together, so I squished them into one. I hope you enjoy! Thank you both for sending me things, and thanks to @mxmaneater for the fast beta ❤️

—

The Tally

“One more for me!” Harry crowed, scratching a new tally mark next to his name on the chalkboard behind Draco’s head. “Better luck next time, Malfoy.” The board had a partner behind Harry’s desk, and the tallies recorded on one would reflect on the other, but Harry took great joy in invading Draco’s space and rubbing his victories in his face at every opportunity. Not that Draco was any better. It was part of the fun.

“Please, that one hardly counted,” Draco objected reflexively. “You only caught him because you tripped, for Merlin’s sake. Hardly an impressive arrest.” 

Harry shrugged and grinned, perching on the edge of Draco’s desk. “An arrest is an arrest.”

“Whatever,” Draco grumped. He and Harry had been playing this game for over a year now, and the margin was always extremely close. Harry was just barely ahead, at the moment, but Draco would catch up to him soon. He and Parvati had a potions ring bust coming up that Harry and Weasley weren’t involved in. Once that was done, he’d have overtaken him, and the smug expression currently gracing his colleague’s face would disappear along with his lead.

“So, any big weekend plans?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s pout.

Draco dropped the expression when it failed to produce the desired reaction. “Nothing too exciting. Yourself?”

“I’ve got tickets for the Puddlemere game on Saturday, actually. Ron was supposed to come, but something came up, so I’m trying to find someone else who might want to go. It would be a shame for the ticket to go to waste.” Harry was biting his lip and looking hopeful, and for just a moment, Draco thought— but no. If he’d wanted to ask, he would have asked, he told himself firmly. 

Taking care to keep his expression light, Draco pondered for a moment before saying. “I think McCutcheon is a Puddlemere fan. Maybe try him?”

“Oh, right.” Draco almost thought that Harry looked disappointed for a moment, but on second glance, his expression was clear and friendly. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll see if he’s free. Have a great weekend, Draco. Parvati.” He knocked his knuckles against the desktop twice before straightening and walking off, hands in pockets. Draco watched him go, sighing as he rounded the corner. It really was a pleasure watching him walk away.

He was brought back to reality by his partner smacking him in the back of the head with a stack of paperwork. “Ow! What the fuck, Patil?”  

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, looking even more exasperated with him than usual. “Every time he’s over here, you spend the rest of the day mooning, and he finally asks you out, and you say NO?!” 

“I do not moon!” He did moon, and he knew it, but he wasn’t about to say so. He still had his pride. “And he didn’t ask me out, either.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“He didn’t! He just said he had an available ticket! He very clearly had an opening to invite me, if he wanted to, and he very clearly didn’t.” There had been a number of moments like this, in recent months, and Parvati kept insisting that Harry was flirting with Draco. For his part, Draco kept insisting that she mind her own business, because she obviously could not read Harry Potter at all if she thought he was interested in Draco.

“You are an absolute moron.” Parvati shook her head in disbelief, but let it drop.

— 

They made the bust on Tuesday. Monday had been a rush of preparations and contingency planning and final logistics, and the stakeout had lasted all day, but in the end, it had been worth it—they’d brought in six players in one sweep and were confident that at least one of them would give up the rest in exchange for sentencing leniency. Draco had dropped into bed exhausted but elated.

He was still riding high when he sauntered into Harry and Weasley’s office on Wednesday. He leaned ostentatiously over Harry’s desk, stretching almost directly over his perpetually-tousled head to grab a piece of chalk and carefully add six perfectly straight tally marks to his own side of the board, giving him the lead by three. 

“And that’s how you do it,” he gloated as he straightened, smirking smugly down at Harry. “Suck it, Potter.”

Across the office, he heard Weasley groan and mumble something that sounded suspiciously like ‘he wishes’ under his breath. Harry looked a bit pink, but still smirked right back up at Draco, so it was probably just the heat. “Played that one close to the chest, didn’t you? But don’t worry, I’ve got something in the pipeline. I’ll be back on top before you know it.”

In Draco’s peripheral vision, he saw Weasley bang his head against his desk. “I’m getting tea,” he announced, stalking out of the office. Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter, who shrugged. 

Now that he was here, Draco didn’t quite want to leave yet, so he searched for something else to talk about. “How was the game?” he finally asked.

“Huh? Oh, the Quidditch game. Yeah, I didn’t end up going, actually.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck, not making eye contact. “Wasn’t really in the mood.” 

Draco wrinkled his brow, not really sure what to make of that, but then Harry asked a question about the potions bust, and Draco forgot about it, instead focusing on a dramatic retelling of his glorious victory.

— 

Harry’s next arrest came after a particularly brutal double homicide. It was all anyone was talking about when he arrived that morning, but, despite Draco’s expectations (and perhaps anticipation), Harry didn’t appear at his desk to brag about it. He was feeling a bit anxious by the time he finally saw him passing by his door in the late afternoon, and the feeling only grew when he did. Harry had bags under his eyes, and his usually confident posture was slumped. He didn’t look as though he had slept. He also didn’t look like he was going to stop.

“Hey,” Draco said, rising from his desk to catch him before he passed by completely. “Haven’t seen you today.” Are you okay?, he didn’t say, but he thought it was probably audible in his tone anyway.

“Oh. Hey, Draco.” Harry looked up at him, seeming a little lost. He looked hollow behind his eyes, and Draco could feel his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Yeah, I’ve been…” he trailed off and glanced past Draco, into his office, to where the chalkboard hung prominently on the back wall. He seemed to curl even further in on himself. “I don’t want to count this one, okay?” he said, finally. “It doesn’t really feel like a victory.”

“Yeah, of course,” Draco said immediately, and he suddenly felt completely helpless. “Can I—” he hesitated, and then put a tentative hand on Harry’s slumped shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

He was half sure that Harry would pull away from his touch, but he didn’t. If anything, he seemed almost to relax into it. “I’m okay,” he said, and it wasn’t convincing, but Draco didn’t want to push it. “Thanks, though.” He reached up and gripped Draco’s hand where it lay on his shoulder, so briefly that his hand was gone before Draco could even fully register it, and then stepped back, continuing on his way.

Draco stood and stared at the chalkboard for a while when he got back to his desk. Then, he picked up his eraser and carefully removed one tally from his own side.

— 

Their next bust, they were on together. A small Neo-Death Eater group that the department had been keeping an eye on, but who hadn’t done much of anything until now, had suddenly decided to make a grand statement by threatening a large-scale attack on Diagon Alley if their (entirely insane) demands weren’t met. Needless to say, the Ministry was not interested in negotiation, and the whole Auror force had been called out en masse. 

Somehow, Harry and Weasley had ended up working in tandem with Draco and Parvati, and now Harry and Draco were back to back in a dead-end alley, dueling a pair that seemed to be the last desperate stragglers, while Parvati watched the street, ready to block anyone who might try to interfere, and Weasley stood to the side, clutching his ribs and sweating but still managing to hold a fairly steady shield charm. There was an unconscious, Incarcerous-ed body on the ground near him; his Stunner’s aim had been true, but the assailant had gotten off one last hex before it hit. He wasn’t in imminent danger—Draco had been hit by the same spell before, and it was extremely painful but didn’t cause any lasting damage once reversed—and although that would be easy enough to do, they didn’t have a wand to spare at the moment.

Harry and Draco worked together like they’d been born to it, and if their respective partnerships hadn’t been working so well for so long, Draco might have considered it a waste that they weren’t paired together. Spells flew around them like fireworks, and they cast and dodged and shielded and attacked without speaking, without pause, until, suddenly, it was over. 

“Ron!” Harry cried as soon as his wand dropped, but Parvati was already by his side, countering the spell, and Ron’s body relaxed almost immediately.

“I’m fine, mate. Great work.” 

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and then turned to Draco, chest still heaving with exertion. Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face even as he tried to catch his breath. He could feel sweat tracking down his face, his neck, his back, and he was streaked with dirt and—he suspected—blood; but they had won, and no one had died, and he was almost high on the rush of it. “I’m not sure who those count for,” he said, half laughing. “It happened too fast. Did you catch who took them down?”

Harry was grinning now, too, the buzzing energy of their win almost visibly coursing through him. He beamed at Draco, and he looked so fucking beautiful, even though he was just as dirty and dishevled as Draco was, that Draco couldn’t help but glance, just for a second, at those lips that he’d surreptitiously observed for so long as they stretched wide with joy. When he snapped his eyes back up, however, it was clear that Harry had seen, because the smile had morphed into something that Draco couldn’t put a name to, and his eyes were searching Draco’s for something. And then— 

“Fuck it,” he heard Harry say, and then there were hands on either side of his head and he was being—quite thoroughly—kissed, right there in the alley. He melted into it immediately, pulling Harry closer to himself almost instinctively. There was an iron tang of blood as their tongues met, and Draco wasn’t sure whose it was, but he didn’t particularly care. He didn’t care about much of anything, right now, besides Harry’s hands, and Harry’s lips, and the press of Harry’s chest and hips against his own, and whether Harry might want to reenact this moment later but somewhere with a bed and a lot less clothes.

“I TOLD YOU!” Parvati yelled triumphantly in the background.

“Fucking finally.” Ron sounded both amused and exasperated.

Draco ignored them in favor of sliding his hands into Harry’s birdsnest of hair, pulling lightly and making him groan into the kiss. He supposed this one counted as a win for both of them.

Also on AO3

[minor-solemnity]

hi omg i love you so much!!!! every time i see you post i get so excited!!!!! if requests are still open can you please write over protective tom! i'm a simp for tom x reader when he is super protective over her! thank you😘😘

Eee, thank you! You’re the sweetest omg <3 I really hope you enjoy this! (We all simp for super protective Tom, don’t we? I definitely do)

Tag List: @naps-and-lemons @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey @cakesarecute @mostlynonsense

The Dark Forest

“Stand up for me, and stay close now.” You follow his instructions, the basket and the flowers lying forgotten at your feet. There is something about the way Tom’s holding himself, his back is a straight line of tension, his shoulders are taught, the grip on his wand rigid. He looks like he’s ready for a fight.

The Forbidden Forest is a strange and remarkable place. From afar, it looks like a solid wall of black that fades into hazy mist regardless of the time of day. You’ve always held a certain fascination with the forest, spending a lot of your free time edging the perimeter and peering in through the thicket, trying to get a glimpse of what lies within. You’d given up Care of Magical Creatures as an elective when you had learnt that Professor Kettleburn had made it quite clear to you that he had no plan to ever lead students inside. It had been one of your favourite things to complain about in fourth year, and your secret hope that you’d one day find an excuse to venture beyond the borders.

You suppose the phrase be careful what you wish for was penned for situations such as the one you find yourself in now.

You trudge along the narrow path, one hand gripping your wand and the other holding onto the wicker basket that Professor Kettleburn had given you to collect the stella syriaca flowers before sending you and Tom off into the forest. The only light source you have is the lumos you’ve cast to guide you through the forest and the pale, white-blue light your wand emits turns the forest into a strange imitation of nature. In this light, at this moment, you can almost convince yourself that the trees and the undergrowth are abstractions of nature, an impressionist’s depiction of what a forest might look like.

This in itself isn’t a problem - you’re not so easily scared that the dark and unfamiliar are frightening in themselves. The problem is that you’re fairly certain that you’re being followed. Not that you’re going to mention this particular concern to Tom. He’s already been dragged out to the Forbidden Forest unnecessarily because of you, you don’t want to annoy him with your paranoid imagination. “Tom, do you have any idea where we are?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and calm. You don’t want him thinking that you’re scared, not when it’s your fault that you’re both in this mess.

“If the directions that Kettleburn gave us are to be trusted, we should be nearly at the clearing,” He responds, and unlike you, he doesn’t sound like he’s pretended not to be scared. He just sounds unbothered by the situation, like this is as normal as a trip to the library or a walk around the lake. He glances down at you and frowns slightly as he takes in your clenched fists and tight expression. In the light of the lumos, his concerned expression turns sinister, strange shadows forming under his eyes and distort his usually beautiful features into something otherworldly and dangerous. When he talks though, his voice is soothing and calm, “Are you alright? I would have thought that you, of all people, would enjoy this particular punishment.” You hum in response, unwilling to voice your current thoughts but unwilling to lie either. Lying never works well with Tom anyway - his talent for spotting lies is as good as his talent for the art itself.

“I’m just sorry that I dragged you into this mess,” You murmur, which isn’t a lie. You are sorry that he’s had to give up his evening to escort you into the forest. “You shouldn’t have to do this just because I was being an idiot.” And the fact that this is essentially all your fault rankles you immensely. The issue is… Well, the issue is that you don’t really have anyone other than yourself to blame. No. No, that’s not entirely true. You can definitely blame the school for your current situation; it’s insane that they would send students out into the Forbidden Forest at night unaided and alone as a punishment. Professor Seprenta’s petty desire to take out her frustrations on her students by sending them into potentially perilous places is nothing to do with you. But the circumstances leading up to your detention?

Well, that’s all you.

You wish you could pass the blame but frustratingly you can’t. You decided all by yourself that it would be a good idea to sneak out after curfew to practise summoning circles. It’s also your fault that you’d (stupidly) chosen an empty classroom that just so happened to be next to Seprenta’s office and had forgotten to cast a silencing charm. She’d found you, chalk dust up to your elbows, scattering bay leaves, lavender, and mandrake roots in the four corners of the room.

Needless to say, she hadn’t been impressed, and you’re still not entirely sure if it’s because she caught you out after curfew or if it’s because Seprenta has a weird grudge against any magic that doesn’t involve the direct use of a wand. Either way, it hardly matters now. What matters is that you had been landed in detention and Tom is the one who volunteered to watch over you, ostensibly to make sure that you didn’t skive off, but in reality, you know that it’s because he doesn’t like the idea of you venturing off into the forest alone and without protection.

Next to you, Tom stills and grabs your shoulder, using his leverage to turn you in place until you’re face to face. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t take responsibility for my own actions, it’s terribly narcissistic of you.” He says and despite the insulting nature of his words, you find yourself reassured. Tom is… not the best at kind words and sweet nothings, not unless he’s employing them to get what he wants that is. When he’s being honest, he has a tendency towards bluntness that borders on rude. It says a lot about his feelings towards you that he is rarely charming and sycophantic. “If I hadn’t wanted to come with you, I wouldn’t have, so please, save your guilt for when you need it.”

With a small, weak laugh you nod, “I’ll keep that in mind… Thank you.” Even in the alien lighting, the small smile that lifts Tom’s lips is pleased and soft and maybe a little surprised. The fact that he so rarely hears honest thanks is more than a little heartbreaking. The pair of you continue forwards, Tom leading the way and you following close behind, ever conscious of the… thing watching from the shadows.

You’d first noticed the thing about twenty or so minutes into your exploration of the forest - a silent shadow, no bigger than a bulldog, that flickered in and out of existence in your peripheral vision. You’d not paid it much attention, to begin with, there were plenty of strange things that lived in the forest, after all, and you’d been confident in your assessment that the professors wouldn’t actually put you in the way of any real harm. That confidence has diminished the further in you’ve gone, even with Tom by your side. Now, when you catch a glimpse of it, the shadow looks bigger - maybe the size of a large sheep and a lot more defined. It melts into the darkness whenever you try to get a better look, but you’re fairly sure that it’s more solid than it had been when you’d first seen it.

You tell yourself you’re being paranoid, that the stories the ghosts like to tell you about what goes on in the forest at night have finally gotten to you, but the longer you walk, the more certain you are that there is something in the shadows. “…Tom? Tom, I think something’s following us.”

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t, darling. You know as well as I do that these woods are alive with more than just birds and trees.” His words are not at all comforting and you find yourself growing annoyed with his flippancy. What you might lack in foresight, you make up for in common sense and your senses are telling you to pay closer attention to the shadows that encroach and creep and linger all around you.

“Tom, I’m being serious. Something is watching us.” He must pick up on the vaguely panicked edge to your words because he stops again and flicks his wand in a complicated motion and a vibrant flame erupts from the tip, floating just above your heads. You give yourself a moment to marvel at his ability before the matter at hand takes precedence and you cast around to try and catch sight of whatever it is that you’ve been seeing. “It was… It was right behind us,” You say, scanning the trees for any sight of the thing. Whatever it is, it’s nowhere to be found. “I swear it was here.”

He hums in response, and when you look at him, you can tell that he’s sceptical. Still, he sends the ball of flame in the direction that you’re pointing and the light seems to reverberate around the dark forest, revealing leaves and branches and thick patches of undergrowth but no moving shadow. Satisfied, he flics his wand again the flame extinguishes. “Keep an eye out - if you think you see something again, tell me.” You nod and bite your lip, pressing a little closer to his side as you continue your trek. You feel like a small child, huddled under your blankets to hide yourself from the darkest shadows in your bedroom. Fear is a funny thing, it’s an almost tangible emotion, prickling the back of your neck and sticking to you like sand on wet skin. Still, you’re almost at the clearing and then all you need to do is pick the flowers and get out.

The stella syriaca flowers only bloom at night, the tiny flowers growing in spherical clusters. Under the glow of your wand, they blossom pearlescent and delicate, like miniature moons rising from the forest floor. You set the basket down and begin to pick the flowers, careful not to crush the petals as Tom watches over you. “You don’t fancy helping?” You call over your shoulder and somewhere above you, Tom breathes out a huff of laughter.

“I hardly see why I should - this is your punishment, is it not?” He counters, wry humour coating his words and you roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. Now that you’re in the clearing, you don’t feel so afraid, the knowledge that you’ll soon be out of the forest bolstering your confidence. Silence falls upon you and you get lost in the monotony of plucking the flowers, the repetitive actions lulling you into a daze so much so that you don’t immediately notice the rustling in the trees towards the edge of the clearing or the way that Tom’s posture tenses and his eyes turn to slits.

You startle when his hands brush the top of your head, and you look up at from where you’re kneeling on the ground to see what the problem is. Tom looks… He doesn't look scared, which you think is probably a good thing, but he does look agitated. His expression is shuttered window, no light or levity flickers behind the darks of his eyes, no ironic smile curling his lips. You only ever see this side of him when someone displeases him in a particularly grievous manner and he’s never looked at you with that cold blankness that reminds you of ice storms and black tar. You spare a thought for his enemies because you imagine you’d probably drop down dead in an instant if he were to ever turn this particular expression on you.

When he talks, his voice is tight, “What did you think you saw earlier?”

“A… I don’t really know—” Tom makes a low, irritated sound in the back of his throat and the hand that’s resting on your head tightens slightly. “—It was like a moving shadow out of the corner of my eye. It disappeared whenever I tried to look at it, but I think it was getting bigger the deeper we went.” You can’t keep the nervousness out of your voice as you scan the perimeters of the clearing, trying to get a glimpse of whatever it is that’s got Tom on edge. The darkness of the forest seems to loom and though you can’t see anything, you can feel it watching you, can feel the way it sizes you up the same way your cat sizes up mice in the courtyard before she pounces. You’ve always thought it was cute - the way her eyes would grow large and black and her lithe body would scrunch up before she attacked. You don’t find it cute now, though. Not when you’re the mouse.

Tom hums in response and he almost sounds relieved, though you can’t think of a single reason why. “Stand up for me, and stay close now.” You follow his instructions, the basket and the flowers lying forgotten at your feet. There is something about the way Tom’s holding himself, his back is a straight line of tension, his shoulders are taught, the grip on his wand is rigid. He looks like he’s ready for a fight. “Stop the lumos, darling.” At your noise of protest, he shoots you a quick smile which you think is supposed to be reassuring but in reality, looks vaguely foreboding. “Trust me.”

“Nox. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.”

“Oh, yeah, you sound really— Merlin, what the fuck?” The shadows in front of you shift, and something big and black and not really there seems to collect in the near pitch black. Vapours in the air that pool and swirl until they coalesce into a shadowy thing the size of a shire horse. For a moment, it just hangs there, waiting and watching and anticipating.

And then it lunges.

In the grand scheme of things, your life is relatively unimportant. You’re not so narcissistic that you believe that the world will be irrevocably changed or diminished if you were to meet an untimely end - sure, your family and friends would be sad for a while, your cat would wonder why you’re no longer around to give them treats and ear scratches, but nothing would fundamentally change if you were to die. You know all of this and still, you’re staring down the proverbial barrel of a gun and the only thing that’s running through your mind is, Dear Gods, why me?

You realise in this instant that you are not made for combat. This shouldn’t be a surprise to you - you’re pretty good at Defence, but you’ve never enjoyed duelling. In contrast to your frozen reaction, Tom responds immediately. The rigidity of his posture melts into something fluid and instinctive, and he’s stepping in front of you in one smooth motion and slashing his wand through the air in the next. Violet light arches through the darkness and the thing rears back, as though wounded before it pushes forward. You scramble backwards, staring in horror at the thing. In the spell-light, you can see now that its body is made up almost entirely of shadows - living, sentient shadows that join and divide around a curling skeleton. The only thing standing between you and the shadows is Tom, who is in his element, a whirl of controlled energy and deft wand movements. You’ve seen him duel before, but only in the relative safety of Defence Against the Dark Arts, and watching him now, in an environment where he doesn’t need to hold himself back, where every ounce of his focus and skill is directed at a real-life foe inspires awe and wonder and fear inside you.

The thing slinks around the two of you and tendrils of shadow and darkness curl out and whip at Tom’s feet. You think it must realise that of the two you, Tom is the more immediate threat. Tom leaps out of the way and advances, seemingly without fear for care for his own safety and you’re dimly aware that you’re yelling for him to get back and away. He either doesn’t hear you over the sound of his own casting or he doesn’t care - he just keeps moving, ducking neatly out of the way of another tendril as he sends a jet of golden light that splinters and pierces the monster’s shadows. You keep a tight grip on your wand, trying to think of any spell that might do something against an incorporeal monster.

The monster lets out a shriek and you’re not sure if it’s in pain or just angry but Tom is already moving again. He reaches for you blindly, not taking his eyes off the thing that is currently writhing on the forest floor. Before it can get a chance to recover, Tom raises his wand a final time and the bright white light of a lumos encompasses the shadow being burning and blinding until all that remains is a charred husk a skeleton that matches no anatomy of any creature you’re familiar with.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” In contrast to the surety with which he duels, his voice is wrecked, a kind of frantic worry lacing his words. When his hands find yours, his grip is tight to the point of it being painful, as though he’s half-convinced that if he lets go you’ll fade into the shadows along with the monster.

A feeling of warmth and affection surges inside of you, far stronger than the fear that courses through your veins and you grip his hand back, clinging just as tightly to him as he is to you. “I’m fine— Tom, are you okay? I’m sorry for dragging you out here with me,” You say, anger at having gotten him into this mess and anger that the school would harbour some kind of shadow demon in the forest forging your voice into something sharp and hard.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He says and you’d be insulted by the way he brushes you off if it weren’t for the way that his thumb brushes your knuckles as he pulls you closer to his side. You know him well enough to hear the unspoken worry in his words. “This is exactly why I came with you.” You know he’s telling the truth. Since you’ve known him, Tom has always had an uncanny ability to know when you’ll need him, has always been there to help and protect you. Usually, that involves editing your essays and handing out detentions to people who trouble you, but you shouldn’t be surprised that he’s taken his chosen role to heart and would gladly put himself in harm's way if it meant you didn’t have to.

Nestled against him like this, you feel the fear that’s been with you since you first entered the forest fade, leaving behind a tired sort of fondness and relief. He’s still glaring at the place where the thing used to be, still tense and stiff as though he’s waiting for it to rise up and start attacking you both again. Tentatively, you reach up and brush your fingers against his jaw, willing him to turn and look at you, so that you can see for yourself that he’s okay, that he’s still here, with you. After a pause, he grants you your wish and your heart quickens at the ferocity lingering in his eyes. “Thank you,” You breathe and just like that, something shifts in the air around you and the tension leaches out of him.

He leans down and brushes a kiss against your forehead and you wind your arms around his back, one hand splayed firmly against his shoulder blades, the other running through the short dark curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m okay, I promise. Thank you for being here.” And you’re not just thanking him for tonight, though are you grateful, you’re thanking him for every instance he’s stepped in to look after and protect you.

“I’d never let anything happen to you, you must realise that by now.” He murmurs, and in the hushed silence of the forest, you can hear the unspoken promise clear as you can feel the warmth of his hand in yours.

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Future

A/N: Yikes. I cried several times writing this. I'm very proud of how it turned out - I think it's one of my strongest pieces on the entire blog - but be warned: bring tissues. Also, Mozzie's quote is originally from Abraham Lincoln. Requested by @ladykeqing

Summary: In the wake of Neal's death, a regret haunts you.

Word Count: 1,964

Peter sat you down and told you in his home. Well… just June’s home, now. The way Mozzie had trailed behind him, for once wordless… His face looking ashen… A part of you had known even before Peter asked you to sit down.

“He told me to say he’s sorry,” Peter said, barely more than a whisper that somehow felt deafening to your brain. “And that he loves you more than you know.”

The room was suddenly stifling. It was more than just the emotions in the air, layering over each other into a thick, caustic fog. It was the darkening of shadows that stretched in from the glass doors, and the silence of the record player that drove deep into their eardrums to muffle the little sounds of life coming from each other. The penthouse was, in an instant, so tiny and deathly empty, and you wished so dearly that you’d been at your own apartment. Staying the weekend had seemed like such a great idea before you abruptly became the only resident.

For a few seconds, you had a mind to just stay put and let the shadows come and take over. To let the agonizing ache of loss engulf your entire heart and continue expanding until it was bigger than your body and you disappeared forever. All so you wouldn’t have to keep looking at the records Neal would never again play and the table he would never again sit at. So you would never have to spend a last moment in the home of your lover before turning your back on it and, by extension, him.

Without him, there was nowhere to turn. The prospect of your remaining lifetime without your partner made your chest and throat tighten with another round of sobs. It all felt so dim. You tried to hold it back, but couldn’t last long before your hands were to your mouth and a strangled whimper was breaking from your lips.

Mozzie could have fooled you into thinking he hadn’t heard, so resolute he was in boring a hole into the rug with his stare. Peter looked towards you with deep brown eyes, solicitous and pleading at the same time. He was as stunned as you were – but where you were being crushed under the weight of isolation, at least Peter got to go home to El. You didn’t have anyone to go home to anymore. Hell, without Neal, did you even have a home at all?

You envied Mozzie. Really, you did. His Buddhist leanings might be a comfort to him, able to think of Neal’s absence as temporary, or his spirit as remaining around them in some way or form. But when you tried to imagine you could feel him still there, the encroaching shadows and silent record player and empty bed all drew together at once until you were drowning in the lack. It was as if your haywire senses were punishing you for thinking even for a moment that you could feel your loss as anything less than absolute. He was gone and the world was permanently less wonderful.

A gunshot. Neal hated guns so much. Maybe this was why.

Wait. No. Time didn’t work like that. Right? He couldn’t hate something for a reason that hadn’t happened yet.

Laughter that bordered on hysterical bubbled out of your throat as you anxiously covered your face, waiting for the mania to pass. Laughter was easier than sobs. It physically hurt less. Emotionally it was so much worse. You could feel the concerned eyes on you while you waited until your desperate giggles died, just like your partner.

“I never said,” you said, wresting the words out before cries – or worse, more laughs – forced themselves out instead. You looked down with shame and guilt. His last words to you were almost cruel. Tender in their meaning, but cruel in consequence – he would never know how deeply you cared for him. You hoped he did. Didn’t you show it all the time? But that was different from hearing the words out loud, and now not only were you going on without Neal, but you were going on carrying the burden of knowing you hadn’t been able to offer him the comfort of certainty in knowing he had been loved in life and would be grieved in death. “I never got to tell him I love him.”

The mere look that Peter gave you in response would have broken your heart if it hadn’t already been lying shattered somewhere between your stomach and the floor. It was as if he were imagining for himself not getting to tell Elizabeth how he felt, or worse, imagining how alone or afraid she might feel if she didn’t know there were somebody fighting for her and remembering her every day.

Sobs would come any moment now. Your throat was tighter than a string on a violin, and any minute you’d stop being able to breathe. In, out, you reminded yourself. Keep it together just a moment more. And then another moment after that. You couldn’t break down until you were alone. You didn’t know why you couldn’t break in front of Neal’s family, but didn’t have the energy to question it, either, not when you barely had the energy not to scream and weep into your hands.

“He knew.” Mozzie’s words were quiet but startling and said with all the confidence of Neal himself. “You didn’t have to say it.”

“But he deserved to hear.” Knowing it and hearing it were different games and Neal, for all his faults, deserved to hear it, too. “He deserved to come home. I don’t…” You lost your train of thought. Why were you talking about yourself when you weren’t the one whose brilliant life had been stolen? After a small shake of your head, you sniffed and shakily breathed out. “We had an entire future. And now there’s nothing left.”

You could see it passing in your imagination, all the little milestones that you’d come to anticipate. Content days at home, interspersed with adventures to his favorite places around the world, marked by marriage and birthdays and achievements and anniversaries. You’d never articulated them out loud, never even realized fully that you’d started to await those days, but now you saw them vanishing and you realized not only were you having to grieve for the best man you’d ever known, but you’d also have to grieve for the missed experiences and joys that he had lost, and the shared life that you had to give up on, as well.

Mozzie finally looked up to you and you noticed that his eyes were puffy and red behind his glasses. You didn’t even know someone could cry that silently. “The best thing about the future,” he quoted, slow and weighty, probably to keep his own voice level. “Is that it comes one day at a time.”

The comfort was meaningless to you. One day at a time was worthwhile when it was endless days of love and companionship. When that was gone, it was just day after day of being adrift with nothing to hold onto.

You sniffed again and replied in a surprisingly even voice, “My future is laying in the morgue.”

~Future~

Leaving Y/N was one of the hardest things Mozzie had ever done, and he had a lot of challenges and dubious decisions in his past. Leaving her to wallow and suffer rubbed him in every wrong way possible, except for the one where it meant – at least for now – that she would be safe. He didn’t think, if he stayed, that he would be able to hold back from blurting out the truth. He couldn’t even look at her for fear of spilling. Not once her tears started. He couldn’t watch his friend, and his best friend’s love at that, weep with agony she didn’t need to feel.

Neal begged to differ, though Mozzie knew that it tore his heart in two to hear her voice over the long-distance connection. When Mozzie was sure the suit was out of earshot, and that Y/N and June had both stayed inside, he lifted his phone from his pocket and breathed heavily in the cold December air that seemed to burn his lungs.

“Did you hear all that?” He asked, impressively steady and managing to get his criticism and support across with his tone simultaneously.

He took off his glasses, thankful Neal couldn’t see that he, too, needed to wipe his eyes dry. Alive was good. Alive but far away and unreachable – at least for the foreseeable future – was still painful.

“I did,” Neal confirmed, voice and heart both heavy somewhere at least a thousand miles away. “I wish…” Neal trailed off, and Mozzie wholly believed that he also needed a moment to compose himself. Why either of them bothered pretending not to cry, he didn’t understand, but they had already dedicated themselves to the farce. “She’s safer this way. If she looks for me, we’re all in danger.”

“If you let this go on, she will never forgive you.” Mozzie warned, thinking about the broken look on your face. It had been like watching a dropped plate shatter in slow motion to see the cracks begin to appear before your very spirit seemed to splinter. Then he thought about how desperately you wished Neal knew you loved him, and he thought maybe there was a chance that desperate love would override the anger. He amended, “Or, if she does, it’ll never be the same.”

“I know.” Neal agreed readily but with a quiver to his voice. “I want to come home, but not if it means visiting her grave.”

“The cautious way it is.” Mozzie put his glasses back on his face, bravely shoring up his willpower. “I can’t know where you are, and she can’t know you’re out there.”

“Keep an eye on her for me.”His voice was full of sorrow and longing.

“Of course.” Neal didn’t even need to ask. If there came a time when the Panthers were dealt with and Neal could – well, if not return home, at least be reunited with Y/N somewhere without an extradition treaty, Mozzie would be the first to set it in motion. “Be well, mon frére.”

“You, too, Moz.”

The line went dead.

~Future~

Approximately four thousand miles away, on a windy beach, Neal stood barefoot in the dark, watching the light from the moon reflect off the choppy, shallow surf. The breeze drifted through his hair and bit across his face with the sting of northern weather.

He looked down at the open phone in his hand, fighting every feeling in him to turn it back on and beg Mozzie to take the phone back up to his former penthouse. Or, worse, to turn his whole body around and get on a ferry to the mainland, and fly back to New York as fast as possible to hold you in his arms. The heartbreak in your voice had been almost too much for him to bear. It would have been, if not for his terror of being reckless and selfish and letting you pay the price.

He had known you loved him, and because he loved you so unbelievably much in return, he couldn’t go home. Not yet. He would work on it from afar, where no one knew he was breathing, much less could trace him back to his darling. One day, if he were incredibly lucky, he could come home and you would still have space for him in your heart and mind. For now, he would have to settle on replaying your words in his head.

I love you, too.

Neal hurled the phone out into the ocean.

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.