#if you watch those you might know exactly which couple inspired me and i apologize in advance HKJSDHG

[krotiation]

Please more divorced CEOS even just your thoughts on it I love it

oh i'm definitely cooking up some more stuff for them ;) these losers are on my mind 24/7

the funny thing about it is that this isn't even the only divorce au i've made during these two past years HSKJGH AND THERE'S A REASON FOR THAT. pining after something you want to have is already fine and dandy but pining after something you used to have but now don't? that's the good juicy stuff right there and it works so so perfect with rhack

we got jack who HATES losing people so much to the point where i honestly don't even think he's ever personally dumped anyone before (major always the dumped, never the dumper vibes on this guy). on top of this he's also the king of holding grudges and can't let people go for the life of him, much less someone he's been full fledged married to

then we also have rhys who, yeah, knows for sure their relationship wasn't healthy BUT he too has some good ol' attachment issues and doesn't want to be alone either. rhys isn't above pining for a toxic ex-relationship and he absolutely wrestles with wanting to get back together, even tho he's a lot more subtle about it and actually TRIES to move on compared to jack. he just has his "holy shit i should call him" moments as one does

but alas, even if jack is ready to remarry rhys at the drop of a hat (he is but will very poorly pretend he isn't), rhys is doing a pretty okay job of not running back to him. they both just embarrass themselves a lil when they touch or call each other nicknames out of habit cause... they're kinda dumb

also rhack bickering is already funny enough but add in the fact that they're divorced? god they're insufferable

[cherrycola27]

SIREN'S SONG

Chapter 11: Rocketman

Paring: Rooster x OC Captain Harper Ann "Siren" Mitchell-Bradshaw

A/N: This chapter was inspired by the Elton John Classic "Rocketman" also special shout out to @marvelsvalhalla for listening to my ideas and helping me come up with the chapter title!

Warnings: Mentions of Ejection, injuries, cursing, drinking, self esteem issues, body insecurities. Jake "Hangman" Seresin... yes Hangman gets his own warning. 18+ Minors DNI

Babes I apologize in advance for this because it is going to hurt

0400 hours came early in the Bradshaw house hold that faithful morning. Harper rolled over as her husband left the bed to get in the shower. "Just a few more minutes please" She called out sleep thick in her voice. "Shhh baby go back to sleep." Rooster whispered kissing her head. "How can I sleep knowing you are leaving me?" Harper pouted. It was true, Bradley, her father and a few other members of the Dagger Squad had been called in for a quick mission. It was supposed to be three days max... get in get out, nothing serious, but there wouldnt be any contact for those three days. Harper protested when she was not chosen, but she knew now that she and Bradley were married there was a slim chance they would be sent out together. So here she sat in bed watching her husband get ready. She wanted to drive him to base, but she had been sick the past few days so Rooster told her no.

She got up and walked her husband to the door. He slipped his ring off and put it on Harper's dog tags. "Hold on to this for me. I will be back for it in three days... keep it safe." Rooster told her. He kissed his wife deeply and much to his chagrin, he left her on the front porch of their home. "I promise I will be back Harper Ann! I love you Mrs. Bradshaw!" He called before leaving the driveway. "I love you too Mr. Bradshaw" She called after him.

An hour later Penny was on her doorstep. Amelia was back in college and with Maverick gone, she couldn't bear the empty house, so the two women agreed to have a sleepover with each other until their husband's arrived. Penny had brought breakfast sandwiches from their local diner. Harper sat down ready to dig in when a wave of naeusa hit her.

She ran to the bathroom and puked her guts out. After that episode, she went to brush her teeth. As she went to grab a new tube of toothpaste Harper noticed an unopened box of tampons. Gears turned in her head. When was the last time she had a period? Could she be? She and Rooster hadn't exactly been trying to get pregnant, but they hadn't exactly been trying to prevent it either.

Harper dug through the medicine cabinet. She knew she had a couple leftover pregnancy tests from the time Phoenix came over when she was late. Harper found the box and quickly torr it open and read the directions. Five minutes later, there were four positive pregnancy tests in front of the woman. "Oh. My. God" she said to herself. "Penny! Harper yelled. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Yeah honey, everything oh..." Penny stopped short as she saw her daughter on the bathroom floor with the tests.

"I think I'm pregnant. Can you take me to the infirmary to make sure?" Harper whispered looking at her mother. "Let me get my things.. meet you in the car." Penny said not missing a beat and jumping into action.

Harper tapped her foot impatiently in the waiting room of the base infirmary. Penny squeezed her hand

"Captain Mitchell-Bradshaw?" A nurse called out. She and Penny practically jumped out of their seats. Harper explained to the nurse that she thought she might be pregnant but wanted a blood test to be sure. And after the blood test came back positive she begged for an ultrasound to be extra sure, and being the Admirals daughter, they didn't tell her no. Penny held her had the first time Harper saw Baby Bradshaw on the monitor. She was about 10 weeks which meant that this baby was Rooster birthday present that kept on giving.

A few hours later the women left base and headed back to Harper's house. "I can't wait for Bradley and dad to get back P, they are going to be so excited" Harper squealed holding her ultra sound pictures.

Over the next three days she and Penny talked about nursery themes and baby names. Harper and Bradley had spoken about children before and they had agreed on naming their kids after their parents, so if baby B was a boy, he would be Nicholas Peter Bradshaw and if baby B was a girl, Caroline Penelope Bradshaw. Penny cried over the fact that Harper thought enough of her to potentially name her child after her. The ladies were all smiles when they got word that the ship had docked and everyone would be home soon. Harper was in the kitchen when they heard a knock on the door. Penny went to answer it.

"Pete! You're home welcome back" She cried hugging her husband. "Is Bradley not with you?" She asked looking around him. That's when she was her husband's face and she knew something was wrong. "Wh... wh... where is Harper?" Maverick stammered.

"Dad! Oh I'm so glad you're back I have something exciting..." Harper stopped short "Dad, where's Rooster? Is he not with you? Is he running late" Harper said as panic set in. "Harper, honey, I think you should sit down Doll." Maverick said gesturing to the couch. "No, no, don't pull that shit with me dad.... where is my husband?" Harper said forcefully.

"Harper, there was an accident... Rooster... he... he's missing, but they are doing everything to find him, but we had to come back. I tried to go but they wouldn't let me." Maverick explained with tears in his eyes.

"What do you mean he is missing? How. How does a plane and a person go missing, you said this was a quick mission. Routine, in and out, not dangerous, nothing to worry about. And now you are telling me my husband is missing!" Harper screamed tears heavy in her eyes and rage in her voice. " You told me not to worry! You said everything would be okay! You promised me Maverick!" Harper shouted at her father. "Honey please calm down" he begged "Don't tell me what to do. How could you? How could you do this to him, to me. And you just left him. His plane gets shot down and you just left him. He didn't leave you 5 years ago!" She continued to rage "Harper I wasn't flying!" Maverick shouted back.

"Please calm down Harper, this stress isn't good for the baby!" Penny pleaded with her "Baby?" Maverick asked "Yeah, baby I'm pregnant congrats grandpa Asshole" Harper shot at her father. Maverick tried to hug his daughter to calm her down. She was shaking as sobs and anger wracked her body "Don't fucking touch me!" She shrieked trying to escape his embrace. "This is all your fault!" Harper screamed punching her father's chest. "You promised me he would be okay! You promised you would bring him back. I thought I could never be as mad as they day I found out you pulled his papers, but I was wrong. Hell I might be madder!" Harper raged as she hit her father. "This is all your fault. I hate you Maverick! I hate you! I hate you!"Harper sobbed as she sunk to the floor. Her words becoming unclear as she sobbed heavily.

Maverick didn't know what to do. As he held his daughter he felt like a kid again holding Carole when she found out Goose died. Maverick had spent his whole life trying to make up for that tragic day, but yet here he was holding another Bradshaw woman he carried about telling her that her child's father was gone.

Roosters head was pounding. He gingerly lifted his body from the forest floor. He did a once over of himself and determined nothing was broken but he probably had a concussion. His com was toast his plane was smashed to shit. He flipped open his tracker and sent a signal hoping the navy could find him. He took stock of his surroundings and determined he needed to make a camp. He knew they Navy would have an idea of where he was, so he determined it would be best not to leave the area. He sat down at the base of a tree and pulled his photo of Harper out of his pocket. "I promise I will be home baby" Rooster said talking to it

"Where are the others?" Harper asked her father when she was able to form a coherent sentence." On base.. they..." Harper cut him off "Take me to them... now." It wasn't a question. The father and daughter drove to base in silence. When they arrived Phoenix was the first person they saw "Were you his wingman?" Harper demanded of the woman. "No, no we were back on the carrier." Phoenix told her caught off guard by the tone of Harper's voice. "Who was?" Harper demanded. "H...h... hangman..." Phoenix stammered out. "Where is he?" Harper asked darkly. "Breifing room... but Si" Phoenix didn't get to finish before Harper pushed past her fuming. Phoenix ran after her calling her name, but Harper was a woman on a mission.

"SERESIN YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" Harper screamed entering the briefing room. Before he or anyone else could respond, Harper slapped him across the face... hard. When she pulled back the angry red print of her had was there on his stupid perfect Ken doll cheek. "Si, what the fuck" Jake said stunned. "How could you. How could you leave him" She screamed at Hangman. "I didn't leave him. He... he" Jake stammered not knowing how to speak to the raging woman infront of him. "Yes you did! You were his wingman! He trusted you! I trusted you! But I guess old habits die hard don't they HANGMAN" Harper screamed in his face. "Listen Siren I get it, we are all upset about Rooster being missing but you need to calm the fuck down!" Hangman shouted back at her still holding his cheek.

"Don't you dare tell me to fucking calm down asshole. You have no right. Got I could fucking kill you right now. I hate you so much Jake Seresin because YOU are the reason my child is going to have to grow up without a father you son of a bitch!" Harper screamed pointing her finger in Hangman's face as she breathed heavily. The entire room went silent. Jake stood there looking at Harper with a blank expression and his eyes wide. "You're... you're pregnant?" He whispered. Afraid if he spoke any louder he might shatter. "Does... does Rooster know?" He asked.

Harper couldn't do it anymore. She collapsed to the floor sobbing. Hangman caught her before she hit the ground. "No... no he doesn't know. I found out the day you left." She choked out between sobs. Hearing that, Hangman, the cocky, egotistical, full of himself pilot lost it too. He pulled Harper closer to his chest and sobbed with her.

The rest of the squad looked at each other unaware of what to do. Bob was the first to leave his spot and join Hangman and Harper with tears in his eyes. Phoenix and Fanboy followed, then Payback and Coyote. One by one the members of the Dagger Squad joined in on the group hug in the floor.

They were supposed to be the best of the best. The top 1%. The strongest. They didn't show weakness. But there in the floor of that navy briefing room, none of them had ever felt more powerless.

Hangman collected himself and looked at the woman again his chest. Harper was still sobbing. She was holding her stomach with one hand and her tags will Roosters wedding ring in the other. He knew that everything Harper had said was true. He was the reason Rooster was missing Rooster had saved him because he felt like he owed him his life. Jake pulled himself together and made Harper, Maverick, Goose, Carole, and Baby Bradshaw a silence promise that no matter what, he would bring Rooster home.

Babes. Im sorry

Tag List: @marvelsvalhalla @shanimallina87 @tallrock35 @aless-megs

[ifmywishescametrue]

omg now im jealous about all of the breaking up and making up stories!!! they're all so wonderful but is it okay to ask for a steve/tony one? i know you've made one inspired by ts (amazing) and this time, maybe they meet/bump in a coffee shop? idk angst potential but also hopeful/happy ending aahhh. your stories are amazing esp ivy!!! thank you! <3

thank you so much!! it ended up being more cute than angsty, but I hope you like it!

Steve's pencil drifts idly across the page of his sketchbook with no end vision in mind. He's killing time until Nat shows up, which could be anywhere between the next five minutes and the next two hours with her vague text that simply said running late. When he looks up to reach for his near empty coffee cup, he freezes with his hand in the middle of the air.

At first he thinks it might not even actually be him. Tony's hair was never quite this well styled before, always a tangled mop on his head that sometimes fell into his eyes. Steve used to spend hours sometimes running his fingers through those wild curls while Tony slept on his chest. It's been tamed since then, cut shorter and held into place by some type of product. The facial hair is new, too. He remembers a time when it would always come in patchy and uneven, and Tony would pout as he shaved away the latest attempt at looking older than he was. The eighteen year old boy in oversized hoodies and stained jeans he met years ago has been replaced by a man in a well-pressed, expensive looking suit with a leather briefcase, like he just stepped out of a boardroom a minute ago. From what Steve has read about his life since they broke up, he probably did.

Steve stares without fully meaning to and for much longer than he would have if it was intentional. He watches him order his drink and smiles when the barista’s eyes widen at what he knows is an overly complicated order, wondering if Tony ever did finish his quest to find that perfect combination of syrup flavors, sugar, and cream that only he would ever like.

He catches the double take when Tony notices him there, right as he’s taking his first sip of the iced drink, and the cough when he chokes on it is anything but subtle. Steve looks away with red cheeks and tries to pretend he wasn’t staring, but it’s a futile effort. He can’t say he minds, though. Not when it means Tony walks over to him and unceremoniously drops himself into the chair across from him.

His mouth forms a familiar smirk, and he says, “You seem to have a staring problem, Rogers.”

Suddenly, Steve is nineteen again, falling hopelessly in love with the boy in his introductory chemistry class. It felt sort of like fate at first when they were paired together for the final project, and Steve remembers thinking that his chances were shot to hell when Tony sat down next to him and said those exact words. He never was any good at being discreet.

Back then, for that first time, all he could manage was a stuttered apology in response. But eventually it became their thing. Something just for them that no one else could ever understand. When Steve would watch him from across the room at parties, because he knew how much Tony loved having his eyes on him, and Tony would saunter over with that same smirk and those same words, there was only ever one reply.

“Guess I just really like what I see,” Steve says, and Tony’s face splits into a grin that matches Steve’s own. He’s still beautiful, even if it’s different now. Less softness to his appearance and more defined edges and sharp lines, but heart stoppingly beautiful nonetheless. He doesn’t quite say as much, but he does comment, “You do look good, by the way. Different, but good.”

Tony’s smile softens into another familiar one. It’s his smile for compliments, when he’s thinking self-deprecating thoughts that he won’t voice. Instead he’ll turn the attention back around, shifting the spotlight.

“So do you. The good part, but not really the different part.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, contemplating if not looking different contributes to the good or not. He should look different somehow, shouldn’t he? After two and a half years not seeing each other in person and what feels like a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak in between then and now, he should look as changed as he feels. As changed as Tony looks now, like he’s someone new entirely. He’s pretty sure the t-shirt he’s wearing now is one he owned back then.

“Thanks,” Steve says anyway, for lack of anything better.

Just before it has the chance to fall into awkward silence, Tony says, “I didn’t know you were in New York these days. I would’ve called or something if I’d known.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Would you have?”

“I don’t know, maybe. I would’ve thought about it, at least. You know, stalked you online, found your number, dialed and hung up a few times.”

Steve laughs, fiddling with the straw wrapper from earlier to give himself something to look at other than Tony. “I moved back last year. Thought about calling, but I figured you were busy. Didn’t want to waste your time.”

It’s only a partial truth. He did think about calling when he came to Brooklyn after his year-long internship in London ended, but he didn’t want to know what Tony would say if he did. If he would have some sort of transparent excuse to avoid seeing him or if it would be an outright rejection.

“I would’ve made time for you,” Tony says, so painfully sincere that Steve has to look up again to meet his eyes.

He wonders if Tony is thinking of that last fight, if it’s a purposeful or coincidental reference to some of what Steve said. It was by far the worst fight they’d ever had, all over the phone with an ocean between them and so many things that Steve still wishes he could take back. Accusations flew on both sides until the entire thing was blown so completely out of proportion, yet impossible to reel back in. He should have just hung up the phone before it went that far. Before he could tell Tony that he always felt unimportant compared to everything else in his life, which was sometimes true but entirely unfair. Before Tony could say that Steve talked about Peggy in the same way he used to talk about him, and he didn’t have to finish the thought for Steve to understand the implication.

“Are we talking about it?” Steve asks.

Tony shrugs, feigning casual, but just the corner of his lip is between his teeth in that way that means he’s nervous and trying to hide it. “I guess that depends on what this is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we said back then that maybe it was just bad timing. You were in London, and I was in Boston until graduation, and it was always going to be a bit of a mess, but there was always that someday chance, right? So maybe this is someday, and we talk about it, and try to get it right this time,” Tony says. “Or maybe that was just something we said and didn’t mean, and I ask you about your life, and you ask about mine, and we talk and laugh and pretend that we’re friends again for the next half hour or so before we go our separate ways.”

It’s an easy choice, really. If there’s one thing that Steve’s sure of, it’s that it’s always been him and always will be.

“I don’t want to go separate ways,” Steve says. “The first time was hard enough, and I never really moved on. I got better, but I don’t think I’ve been more than just fine in a long time.”

Tony nods slowly, “I kept thinking you would call, you know. Back then. I thought you would call and tell me that it was a mistake and it would be okay again, but you never did. Although, I guess I could’ve called, too.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“For the same reason as you, probably. I couldn’t risk it if you didn’t want me again. Couldn’t risk getting back together just to break up again, either. We weren’t exactly the poster children for making long distance work.”

“We were terrible at it, weren’t we?”

Tony’s smile is tinged with the pain of the past. “It’s kind of funny because I remember thinking that it might be a good thing for us when you told me about London. Can’t get sick of somebody if they’re not always around.”

“You thought I would get sick of you? You never told me that.”

“Why would I?” Tony laughs. “Just put all my insecurities on display like that? Come on, Steve, that doesn’t sound like me, does it?”

Steve laughs with him briefly, “No, but I could’ve told you back then that it wasn’t possible. Told you that I wanted you around all the time and I missed you every second you were gone. I might’ve even stayed if you had told me. I was thinking about it, you know? I almost turned the internship down. Probably would’ve if you’d asked even once for me not to go.”

“It was your career. I never would’ve asked you to give that up for me.”

“There would have been something else. Another job somewhere closer to you.”

“I still wouldn’t have asked,” Tony says. “And I would have told you to go if you’d said you were staying.”

Steve knows that, which is why they never talked about it much before he left. Tony pretended to be happy for him, and Steve pretended to be happy for himself, when really it already felt like the beginning of the end. A year apart is longer than it seems, and it didn’t take more than a few months to realize it.

“I never…” Steve starts, trailing off when he doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence. “There was never anyone else. Not while we were together, and never with Peggy.”

“I know. I knew back then, too, that you were never that kind of person. Jealousy’s just a real bitch sometimes.”

“There’s really not been anyone since, either,” Steve adds, and Tony’s mouth quirks into a half smile. “I mean, a couple of people here and there, but nothing like what we were.”

“There’s not a whole lot out there like what we were, is there?”

Steve smiles, leaning back in his chair, “No, there’s really not. But I do remember reading a rumor that you got engaged.”

Tony groans, and it’s so much like he used to sound when he was nine pages deep into a ten page essay at three in the morning that Steve has to laugh.

“Don’t you dare laugh. That rumor haunts me, Steven,” Tony says, belied by a grin that he seemingly can’t control. “Do you know how I found out about my supposed engagement? When my mother called and asked why I hadn’t told her I was planning on proposing.”

“So I’m still the only person you’ve ever proposed to,” Steve teases, just for the way he knows Tony will get indignant about it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that one didn’t count?”

“You were on one knee, you asked a question, and you had a ring. All the boxes are checked, sweetheart.”

“It was a blue raspberry ring pop, and you ate it,” Tony argues. “Not to mention that I actually asked you to marry me someday in the distant future. That’s not a proposal.”

Steve laughs again, thinking about that day in the middle of their living room, just a few weeks before Steve got the call that would take him to London and change everything. It was almost like a joke, and for anyone else it would have been. Not for them, though, because Steve remembers the look in Tony’s eyes when he dropped down in front of him, spur of the moment and impulsive like almost everything was back then. He remembers how it still felt like a promise, even if it wasn’t the real thing.

“But I said yes, which I think technically means we’re still engaged.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony scoffs. “It’s going to be a production when we get engaged. Elaborate and planned and romantic as hell.”

“When, huh?” Steve grins.

Tony’s cheeks pinken a touch, but he doesn’t take it back. He reaches for Steve’s hand on the table. “Yeah, when. Is that alright with you?”

Steve threads their fingers together, holding on tight. “That’s alright with me.”

[alreadyblondenow]

He loves me, he loves me not | Jung Sungchan

❤︎ Sungchan x female!reader ❤︎ Fluff, Smut, ❤︎ 4/4 for LOVE MONTH SERIES: Boys Don’t Cry One is a big number

One is a big number | You and your words | Sweet | He loves me, he loves me not |

Summary: The famous Jung Sungchan asked you out in front of his friends out of nowhere and you coldly turned him down but he didn’t take no for an answer. He proved his seriousness to you until you decided to give love a chance and so is Sungchan... but that didn’t take away your doubt. Until an ugly fight almost ruined your relationship.

Word count: 2,835k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, virginity loss, making out, fingering, swearing, self doubt, trust issues, couple fight, shouting at each other, mentions of break up. The smut is avoidable, btw.

A/N: PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. PURE FICTION. This is inspired by nothing, haha I just want to write something for him. This is hella short bc I didn’t want to go crazy on my first fic for sungchan haha. But I will def write more for you. Also this is reposted, bc tumblr... -_-

Supposedly for KPOPSCAPE’s Love Fools but I want to finish my Boys Don’t Cry Series already :(( huhu

Jung Sungchan is like a perfect movie. Not because it’s where you first met, but because he’s too good to be true.

Captain of the soccer team, lead the team to championships basically his whole high school life, smart, very creative, gentleman, and every girl’s dream guy.

That’s why when he asked you out, you thought it’s some kind of a joke that you turned him down right then and there in front of his friends. Even though he looked harmless and he asked you politely, still, he’s Jung Sungchan. Why would he waste his time on you?

But just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is surprising.

After you turned him down and set your mind on the quiz you’re about to take in ten minutes, he grabbed you by the wrist and did not take no for an answer.

“Okay fine, I completely understand you. Don’t say ‘no’ too soon, and let me earn your time” he said with a desperate tone and hopeful eyes and finally lets go of your hand.

“I have no idea what you’re up to Sungchan, but fine. I-I have to go to class” you said and walked as fast as you could to your next class.

On the following days that soon became weeks, Sungchan proved that he’s serious and showed it to you through pursuing you without giving you pressure, tagging along with you and your friends and instantly creating your own world together, and remind you about his intentions to you almost every day.

Eventually, after many weeks of trying, you became friends that are comfortable enough with each other. Though he’s bold with his actions and words while you continue to convince yourself that Sungchan is serious, “Just... go with it for now. I’ll wait for you to get used to us, I got all the time in the world” he says, putting strands of hair behind your ear while looking at you lovingly. He never fails to make you feel shy and secure at the same time.

“Tomorrow is a big day for me,” he breathes in deeply before he finishes his sentence and makes a big request, “I would like you to come watch me play, but only if you’re comfortable of course. If not, then at least call me after the game-“

“No no. I’ll watch you. I’ll cheer for you, wouldn’t want to miss seeing you win... again” you said and let out a shy giggle. Sungchan never asked you for anything, and you think watching his game is a good way to return the favor.

“So... you watch me play, huh?” he smirked and swing an arm on your shoulders as you walk closely together towards the field.

And just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is not perfect. Good, but not perfect.

Sungchan and his team lost the game.

You wish you could do something to cheer him up and turn this night around for him but you’ve never seen him like this and quite frankly you don’t know what to do.

He stopped looking at the crowd and stopped smiling at you the moment they started to lose. You saw him get irritated in the field, scream and shout at his teammates, get scolded by their coach. It must be really hard for him and his team.

After the game, you waited for him to come out of the men’s locker room but you were told that he’s really disappointed in himself right now and it might take some time. “If you want, you can go inside. I know you two are not yet together but, comfort him. He needs you” Shotaro said, pats your back, and said goodbye.

Of course, you went in even though you’re not sure what exactly to tell him. But when you saw him sitting on the bench with his head down, your heart ached in an instant and suddenly you know what to do.

“Hey” you greet him quietly.

“Hey- I was just about to meet you, sorry” he flashed a smile like he didn’t look so hurt just a few seconds ago. Now you don’t know if he’s actually happy to see you or he’s faking a smile.

“You know, if we’re going to be together we should start showing different sides of ourselves and start trusting each other. Right?” You said and sat beside him.

What you said made him happy sincerely but the weight of losing tonight is just too much at the moment. So he told you the truth, “I’m a failure” he says and covered his face, trying to hide his frustrations.

“You’re not. Losing tonight doesn’t mean you’re a failure. Losing is part of the game that you love to play so much. And I think you’re not going to stop playing just because there’s a chance of losing” you soothe his back and massaged his shoulders.

You and Sungchan talked for some time in the locker room. He told you what he was thinking and feeling while he was on the field with a losing score, everyone was frustrated, and “suddenly I can't hear the cheers anymore and my worries are eating me up and ruining my game” he says almost in tears again.

And after that heart-to-heart talk in the locker room, he brought you home safely and thanked you for being the only good thing that existed tonight. He undid his seatbelt and reached for your hand to kiss it. He kissed you there because he knew you wouldn’t let him kiss you. Not yet at least.

But he’s wrong. You undid your seatbelt too, reached for his face, and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “Good night,” you told him and kissed him again before you get out of his car.

After that life changing kiss, just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is charming, tender, powerful, hilarious, silly, and dramatic.

Your life changed when you started dating Sungchan, but still, you doubt him about his feelings for you.

Nonetheless, you enjoy the relationship. Slowly you become bold and confident with your actions towards him. You’re not afraid to show him that you care, you show him how much he makes you happy, you don’t lie to him whenever you get disappointed with something he did, and sometimes if things heat up quickly, you two fight like there’s no tomorrow.

And just like a normal person, Sungchan changed. Though you saw it coming already because nothing is constant in this world, still it hurt you. You miss the old him and because of that, your doubt about his feelings for you grew and grew until you can’t take it anymore and you decided to break up with him.

“What happened to showing different sides of ourselves and start trusting each other, Y/n? Okay fine, I admit it, I changed. But I have a reason for that and not because I don’t love you. What were you thinking?” He asked sternly, gripping the stirring wheel hard as he drives you home. You didn’t answer his question so it was quiet the whole time until he reaches your house. And the moment he stopped the car, you gathered your stuff and did not want the night to be longer than it already is... but of course, Sungchan will not let you.

He locked the doors of his car before you could even get out. Which made you angry instantly. “I’m not letting you break up with me” he said calmly while you’re anger add up every second.

“I’m not taking it back. My decision is final” you said, covering your face so he won’t see you cry. Leaning forward towards the dashboard and massaging your forehead.

“Why do you doubt my feelings for you? What else do you want me to do? I changed because I can feel that you’re not happy anymore with what we have, so I distanced myself from you to give you space. But I never even once thought of breaking up with you, I want to try and I hope you do too! That’s how much I love you. What did I ever do in the first place to make you doubt me like this, huh?”

“Well then everything’s clear!”

“What is?!”

“Maybe I don’t really love you and that maybe what I feel for you is the problem, not you!” Lie.

“Psh. You’re just telling me that because you’re mad right now!” but it did hurt him that he’s is close to tears.

It turned silent again for a couple of minutes. Maybe it’s his way to stop you both from shouting at each other. He turned his body closer to you and reached for your hand.

“Just don’t break up with me tonight. I'm sorry we shouted at each other,” he pulled you close and kissed your temple, “I just- don’t know what else to do to prove my love to you and you may not see it but I’m scared to the bone. I'm scared of losing you”

After hearing those sincere words without doubting him for the first time, you accepted his apology and said your sorry to him too. “I didn’t mean what I said, I’m sorry," you said and wiped his tears away.

Thankfully the night ended peacefully with long kisses and tight hugs before he walks you to your front door.

Just like a good movie, Jung Sungchan is the greatest plot twist of your life.

After graduating high school, you and Sungchan spend your remaining time together over the summer before you part ways for college. Now that you’re about to face long distance relationship, you both feel stupid about the fights that you had during the earlier days of your relationship.

“I should’ve kissed you longer than usual and told you I love you instead of screaming at you, you know?” He says while playing with your fingers.

Today is one of those days where you and Sungchan sit at the top of his car, your back against his chest and you in between his long legs while watching the sun go down and watch the city lights.

“Then say it now” you said, turning your head on the side and cup his face.

“I love you” he said and planted a soft kiss on your lips, “and don’t you dare doubt it this time-“ he says and tickled your sides to make you giggle.

When you two arrived at your house with a box of pizza for dinner, your mom texted you last minute that they will be out will probably be home very late. Great you murmured because you don’t want Sungchan to go home just yet.

“They’re out and probably will be back by midnight. Can you stay a little longer?” You pout but your boyfriend kissed it away.

“Of course,” he said and smiled at you.

And after a few minutes of flirting while eating pizza, you two decided that you’re not hungry anymore and proceed to make out in your room already to maximize your time of being alone together. Giggling and touching each other wherever you want while your lips touch and kiss each other deeper. Making little sounds just for the two of you, whispering sweet nothings, and listening to what each other wants.

Sungchan removed his hoodie because he’s starting to sweat like crazy, but you sat up and asked for more. Slipping your hands inside his shirt and kissing him as you remove it and throw it away. Still surprised at your recent move, your boyfriend let out a small laugh and reach for your chin as he returns your kisses. “Why are you just showing me this side of you now?” He said and pushed you back on the mattress and quickly removed your shorts and spread your legs so he could lie on top of you while in between your thighs.

Slowly he raises your shirt which you get rid of immediately while he kisses you from your lower abdomen and all the way up until he reaches the valley between your boobs and unclasps your bra effortlessly.

This is his first time seeing you very much exposed for him. And he loves it. So without warning, he sucked your nipples and made you arched your back and ask more. Nibbling and pinching your now swollen nipples, licking and biting your boobs, and covering it with spit. Oh you love what he’s doing.

“One more item of clothing left for the both of us, if I remove yours I’m afraid I can’t control myself” he whispers beside your ear and went back to kissing your lips.

“Let’s do it then,” you said in between kisses, swinging your arms around his neck and moving your hips to show him how eager you are. In return, he put his thumb on your damped panties and draw circles on your clit before he removes it finally.

“I’m so hard right now,” he went back in between your spread legs, kissing you with want while his fingers play with your slit. He touched you hundreds of times already but every time his fingers made contact on your pussy, it feels like the first time again.

“You too, not fair” you whine, slipping your hand inside his underwear and feeling the smoothness of his butt while biting your lips. Of course he gave your request immediately, pulled away from your body and exposed himself to you for the first time.

Knelling in between your spread legs, he pumped his cock while looking at your virgin tight hole and diving into lust even more. He checked your slit if you’re wet enough for him, yes. He asked you if it’s okay to fuck you raw for the first time, yes.

“This will feel goo- ah, fuck” he moaned out when he slides his cock on your wet slit for the first time, feeling the rawness of the activity you’re about to do.

“Keep doing that, fuck it feels good” you said while watching his cock slide up and down your slit and sometimes poking your hole which makes you jolt and giggle. And when he accidentally poked your hole and pushed his entire head, you told him, “Don’t pull away-“ you hiss and finally feel a small stretch from his cock, and as he slowly pushes in, the stretch becomes even more intense that you had to stop him from time to time before he continues to push in.

When he finally rolled his hips slowly, you’re suddenly out of breath and you feel so full. All you can do is grip his arm to show him how good he makes you feel, try not to close your legs whenever he hits a spot, and kiss his lips until the stretch is replaced by pleasure.

“This is what we’ve been missing the whole time- oh!” He said, grunting and moaning so good while fucking you at a slightly faster pace than earlier. Bodies away from each other, both of his hands are gripping your waist while watching your boobs bounce up and down, and of course watching his cock go inside your pussy.

You reach for your clit too and tried stimulating yourself because you’re so near but your boyfriend removed your hand and replaced it with his and suddenly your moans became higher and you’re gripping the sheets so hard.

“C-cuming” you tried telling him but too late, your legs are shaking and so is your whole body, you tried curling yourself but you can’t because your boyfriend is still fucking you. Harder this time.

And right before he hits his high, he pulled away and pumped his cock away from you and took care of his own mess. While you, on the other hand, can finally curl and catch your breath while you wait for your boyfriend to come join you again.

“You okay?” He asks, cleaning your sensitive pussy with a damped towel and helped you wear a clean underwear. “There, so I won't ask for round two” he said and kissed you on the cheek before he joins you under the covers.

“Do you know what I was thinking while we were at it?” He asked, you came closer to him and started kissing him softly. Waiting for him to tell you something sexy, or dirty.

But

“You’re worth the wait, and I’m definitely happy that I didn’t let you break up with me” you stopped kissing him. You didn’t expect he’d say something serious and sweet after fucking your brains out for the first time. “We both know you’re not easy. I’m glad we chose to love each other” now he’s the one who initiated the kiss.

Soft. Cotton-like kiss.

“Now, I feel bad I gave you a hard time” you said in between kissing. “You do love me so much” you added, he chuckled.

“Again, now that you believe that I love you. It’s all worth it”

[wizkiddx]

a friendly face

a lil one inspired from seeing the recent interviews abt cherry - yes im a couple days late but am very slow. This is basically stolen and adapted from another of my stories so I don't think there's any bits left over by my dyslexic proof reading isnt that great so apologies!!! very speech heavy so sorry am trying to balance my writing more

Summary: Tom is having a hard time filming Cherry and dealing with the emotional baggage of it, so Harry recruits someone to make everything that little bit better.

tomhollandxreader

fluff and a little angst I guess?

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Harry, Tom and their driver Sian where all sitting in the car having left the set 20 minutes ago, heading back to their accommodation. Or more precisely, Harry and Sian sat in the two front seats- Harry only in the front as to allow Tom to lie down across the three back seats. He was asleep, or at least looked asleep, but Harry knowing his brother so well knew he was just wishing he was. The day had been torturous for Tom, they’d been filming a hospital sequence in which his character was heart broken. The sequence had involved him being thrown onto the floor multiple times, by a heavy handed stunt double who was not nearly as precise as those he’d worked with at ‘marvel’. Furthermore, there was also multiple scenes of him having to properly cry on camera, which although it sounds tame, is one of the hardest things you can ever ask an actor to do. At least, someone who commits half as much as Tom. For him to show that emotion, he had to go back to a place in his life where he didn’t really ever want to venture again. But even then, this character was such a fuck up, he had to do deeper.  He felt completely drained, emotionless and cold. But he couldn’t sleep, not for the guilt he felt for being short with everyone on set- he had never been like that before, he just felt like no one was respecting or understanding what he was going through. So instead he just lay on his side, facing the backs of the leather seats, arms folded in stubbornness- even if he had no idea why.

“Tom?…Tom, I know you’re awake… Look, we need to make a quick stop. You gotta come out.” Harry was actually slightly nervous his brother would just point blank refuse, even if he needed this so bad.

“I just need to get back to the apartment. Please Harry. Can’t we do it tommorrow?” The desperation dripping off Tom’s voice actually pained Harry to listen to. He knew Tom was having a crisis about how he treated everyone today, so chose to ignore his please in favour of some assurance.

“You know everyone understands… They just kept asking me if you were alright?” Harry could see the guilt radiating off Tom. It hurt him to see his big brother like this. 

“Please… I just need to get back” His small voice barely made it to the front of the car, but Harry heard it all. 

“It will take 2 minutes tops, I had a delivery but I need a hand carrying it, come on” Harry spoke as Sian turned on the indicator to pulled up next to the sidewalkpavement; the car slowing to a gentle halt. Tom didn’t reply, instead huffing as he used the head rest of the middle seat to pull himself up. Already out the car, Harry opened the door for him waiting patiently, because Harry knew he would be a hundred times better off in just a few moments. 

“What the hell have you even ordered that’s so big?” Tom sighed while ducking through the door into the cold Cleveland air, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as Harry motioned for him to follow his feet. 

“Oh um don’t know, a good friend sent it actually” Harry tried to hide the grin that was spread over his face from showing in his voice, as he saw a very familiar head of hair running toward them.

“What friend?” Tom looked up sassily toward Harry, shortly questioning who would send Harry a parcel from England that was too big to be delivered or carried by himself. Only then, nearly 5 metres away from Sian in the car, did Tom look up to see where they were. It wasn’t the nearest post office or delivery warehouse - they were at the airport. “Harry what’s going on?” Tom questioned with a low and warning voice, skipping a step or two in order to catch up with his younger brother. 

“We’re collecting her” Harry smiled as he nodded forward. Following his gaze with eyes wide open, Tom turned forward just in time to see Y/h/c  flying over his face as he was engulfed by someones arms. Immediately sensing exactly who this was, Tom did not hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist and push his head into your neck. Smelling the familiar perfume, Tom couldn’t help but scoff, allowing a the jerky breath to leave his lungs as you arched away from the hug, cupping Tom’s face with both her hands. 

“I’ve been reliably informed you could use a friendly face” you smiled, noticing his raw emotions threatening to overtake him, so swiftly pressing just pressing your lips onto his. Seemingly frightened to move, Tom barely reacted to the kiss, so you pushed and deepened into it a little more- till you felt him relaxing against you. With that, you arched away again and smiled massaging his stubbly hair behind his left ear.

“How are you here?” He croaked staring deeply at her, switching between her left and right eye as if that somehow would confirm that this was real, not some cruel dream he was having. 

“Someone somewhere knew you were in need and bought me a plane ticket over… I’m coming home with you on monday” You grinned while  watching Tom’s eyes light up, he leaned in again to your lips instead of replying. 

“Er-cuh-huh” Harry loudly cleared his throat, causing the two to pull away from each other. “Sorry to interrupt, but Sian isn’t really allowed to stop there long sooo” They both nodded, before Tom lunged at his brother, holding him close and whispering thanks too. It was clear this was at least partly Harry’s doing, and he could never thank his brother enough.

“Umm.. as much as I’m enjoying this brotherly love we really do have to get back in the car” Harry awkwardly spoke as he almost pushed Tom off him. 

“Awww my favourite little brother being all mature” You giggled, taking your turn to hug Harry, admittedly a little shorter than Tom’s, but still with lots of gratitude.

“Please get stop loving me and get back into the car!” Harry yelled as he stormed off to Sian, leaving both you and Tom in fits of laughter. Grasping each others hand simultaneously the laughter continued as you followed Harry down the street to the car. 

Seeing you standing there; feeling your arms wrapped round his neck ; hearing your oh so sweet voice had Tom feeling…. Feeling lighter. It was as though your mere presence gave him the strength to carry all the things that were previously weighing him down like a truck. What was extraordinary though, was how it wasn’t just psychological. He literally felt his joints feel looser, he felt his body flood with warmth and he felt his heart calming down. When you’d first been getting close to each you’d had rather the opposite effect. Which was surprising because that was at the point Tom had never felt more confident - he had just returned form a avengers press tour, where naturally everyone had just loved him and played up to his every whim. He had legions of girls, some of them drop dead gorgeous where falling at his feet. And yet, when he met you it was as though he was transported back into his incredibly awkward teenage years. It was infuriating, he knew he could act cool and unbothered and smooth however as soon as you stood informant of his it was like his mind melted, filling it with utter gibberish and garble. In fact, he was plainly floored by you - how kind and pure hearted you were, how respectful and how you found hhis jilted flirting adorable and not to forget how drop dead gorgeous you are. 

It had taken a while and a hell of a lot of opening up, but over time he found the opposite happening. Your presence became something else entirely, not one that would put him on his toes and have his heart racing - more of a comfort. He slept better when you were beside him, his nerves never got the better of him if you were there to cheer him on. He could relax completely without any fear of judgement, any worry at all with you. What you had done is change the definition of something so fudemental and a given in life. You’d changed home from a place to something much more intangible. A person; a feeling; a connection. You were his home.

“Sian are we close?” You asked, turning your attention away from the two brothers annecdotes from filming, realising Sian must’ve been driving for about 30 minutes. 

“Yep just the next right I think” Sian replied gently while turning the wheel as the indicator clicked.

“Where are we going?” Tom asked, looking first at you then pleadingly at Harry- knowing he had more of a chance with his brother. 

“Well” You started and he whipped his head back round “I know it’s late and you’ve been working all day, but you have alater  10 o’clock call time tomorrow instead of 6, so this is the best night to do something. We found a driving range-with heaters” which was a very important factor since Cleveland was bloody freezing “- that we thought you’d like to play a game or two?” The massive smile in response meant you’d hit the nail on the head.

“And soz but I’m crashing the game otherwise- and no offence, but you would win waayyyy toooo easy Tom” Harry butted in and sniggered as he interrupted the lovey-dovey stares. You gasped at that in mock offence, holding your hand over your chest. 

“Oi you, Paddy has been teaching on the Holland boys days out you both missed- I’ll have you know I now am aware that you have to get the ball into the hole, not a goal as previously thought.”

The boys both groaned in unison and Y/n wiggled her eyebrow grinning, elbowing Tom slightly in the side. “Things might have changed since you left you know?”

Yet another thing Tom loved so completely about you, was how effortlessly you had fitted into his family. Honestly, none of the Hollands could imagine life without you anymore - especially Nikki, who had quite literally attempted adopting you so she officially wasnt the only female in the immediate family. Sam used you as an expert taster for all his marvellous culinary creations (even if your judgement was always the same, it was very good); Dom often ended up picking your brains about your work, he found you ‘actual proper’ job as a doctor simply amazing , where all his family had never been especially acadmeically gifted; and Paddy just plain saw you as his older sister. So it was hardly surprising at all that when two of their actual kids flew across the world , you’d been the obvious placeholder. Yes, golf was most definitely your forte - but you were enthusiastic, with a positive (if flightily misguided) give it a go attitude. 

The try-try-and-try-again attitude that never really worked … until Paddy taught you how to hit a clean drive.

“I am not joking, I am asking the lady at the desk there’s no way!” 

“Tom you are the worst looser I have ever met! I didn’t cheat, I’ve just taken up a new hobby”

“There is no way Tom… no way she can get that good” Harry huffed as he ran straight past you to catch up with Tom, making sure that you did see the harsh glare he shot him. The outrage that Y/n had beaten them both at the driving range was way worse than anything you could’ve predicted- now you sort of were wishing you’d let them win. Oh wait…. Of course you weren’t  - this was priceless. Especially their faces when you’d launched your first ball super accurately inn the centre of the second furthest away target. They had reacted as if you had just stripped butt naked, you thought; standing their jaws hanging with a look of almost fear in their eyes.

“You could see the balls land with your own eyes! Practice makes perfect!”

“Thats not fair though! It took you like 8 weeks to be like that?”

“I mean you were obviously just taught by the wrong Holland, Paddy’s a  pretty good teacher!” You smiled as your trio turned the corner and walked through reception, seeing Harry desperate to ask the receptionist but Tom just looking over his shoulder to give a hurt look to at you.

“I’m going to ban you from being closer to my brothers than me”

“I can’t help if he’s cuter then you alright?” You smirked and raised an eyebrow, as Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to face you.

“That’s it… your gonna get it” he spoke in a low voice, with a mischievous look in his eye, abruptly he launched himself at you -  barely having  time to swerve away from him and start a sprint towards the exit, giggling as you took a glance back to see Tom chasing you out, Harry quickly in tow too. 

“Your not allowed to beat me at golf!” In a jokey voice, you heard Tom yell, just as you reached the sleek black 4x4 and hurdling yourself into it. 

“I’m in the car it’s a no fight zone!” You cowered in the corner,back pressed up against the opposite door and  arms crossed to make an ‘x’ sign in front of her body. 

“That is not how it works” Tom and Harry grinned from the open door. As fast as lightning they both vaulted in and started tickling you, making you screech curses at the two of them.

“Alright alright kids, no fighting while I’m driving thats an order.” Sian calmly spoke, trying to hide the laughter from her voice, as the two men retreated and helped to pull you up from the position half on the floor that your squirming had gotten you to. 

“Get off my leg Tom… arghhh… thanks Sian, I’m sorry they’re so moody, I just whipped their asses at golf”

“You’re here to make me feel better right? Not doing a good job so far” Tom’s snide remark meant you scrunched up your nose while plugging her seatbelt in, making sure to jab Tom’s side hard as you did so.

“How did I end up sandwiched in between you two twats then?” You grinned from the middle seat as Harry just rolled his eyes looking out the window, and Tom gave you a loving smile- not able to hide his relief of your presence.

“Think it’s about a 40 minute drive you gotta enjoy” Sian smiled looking at you via the rear view mirror, to which Tom couldn’t quite stifle the yawn that escaped. 

After all he had done much more than the typical 9-5 hours work, and the golfing was an unexpected addition to the already long day. His excitement and just pure joy at having you here had made him forget about It all for a couple of hours - but now his exhaustion was catching up with him with a vengeance. Instinctively you wrapped you arm round Tom and in doing so pulled him into your side. 

“Get some rest huh?” You whispered into his forehead, and all Tom could do was reply with a weary nod, letting his eyes slip close to the constant beat of Ally’s heart. You immediately sensed Tom was properly out of it, and contented yourself looking out his window for a few minutes,  before you felt something heavy briefly whack your other shoulder. Jumping a little at the contact, you looked round to see Harry’s head bobbing side to side in a light slumber. In the midst of worry for Tom, you hadn’t realised the kid had been doing the same long hours as him. Plus dealing with Tom and being Tom’s support, which surely took it out of him. Harry had always been ‘the most important brother’ in your eyes. Just because Tom trusts him so implicitly and completely, they had an understanding only real brothers could get to but also extended far beyond blood. When you’d first been introduced Harry had been colder to you. It wasn’t personal though, he just wanted to be sure on you and your intentions with Tom because as he well knew often when people saw Tom they didn’t just see an opportunity for love. It was an opportunity for a lifestyle, for fame, for relevance. Harry took a while before he trusted you but now you were miles and miles beyond that point. So now, being at a stage with Harry where he was phoning you to come and fly out to save Tom (and him too). It was not to be taken lightly.  Therefore, you gently pressed your hand to Harrys face and pushed him to lean against her other shoulder too- hoping to cure the dark circles under his eyes a little bit too. 

You were quite content for the rest of the journey, feeling warmth radiate through your body as the two men breathed deeply and calmly either side of you. You sort of didn’t want the car journeyer to end - but sure enough it wasn’t long till Sian was pulling into the hotel entrance.

“Get you a girl that can do both, beat yo ass at golf and look after your family” Sian whispered as she handed the phone back to you, after having taken some of your favourite ever photos, the 2 boys asleep on your shoulders while you pulled a variety of different faces. Smiling back at Sian, you then sighed-knowing she had to wake the two up, given their exhaustion you didn’t really want to either. 

“Boys…boys… hey let’s get you both into bed yeh?” You spoke softly, gently raising your shoulders in order to disturb them both. Harry’s head immediately shot up, his eyes puffy and half open, but a sheepish look on his face as he realised how he was sleeping. Just responding with a smile that said it was all okay, before  you turned her attention to Tom- forever stubborn to wake up, at least nothing had changed there. 

“Come on Tom, can’t have you sleeping in the car all night” You pushed again, this time lifting Tom’s head, earning a very deep groan as his eyes slid open and he pushed against the movement. It was at this point Harry slammed the car door shut, making Tom jump out of his skin, you loosing the hope of any serene wakeup call. Rubbing Toms arm, relaxing the tension now present in his body you encouraged him once again. “Come on lets get inside mister” 

His hotel room was exactly what you’d expect for an a-lister and lead actor in a million pound film. Large, modern, squeaky clean and posh. It was almost too big to be filled by one person though, Tom had always found it a bit cold and just not cosy - why he opted to spend the majority of his down time either fast alseep or in somebody else’s company. Both of those also stopped him getting too much in his head - or more accurately in his characters head. Cherry was a weird character and from interviewing all the veterans and lengthy discussion of his past, Tom almost felt as if he had in some small way experienced what Cherry had. Felt what Cherry did. Thought like Cherry did. 

And that was a sure fire way to fuck yourself up.

Now, with you here in his room haphazardly digging through your case, if felt warmer. The cold but brilliant white lights seemed to have softened to a gently warm glow that bounced off your skin and made your figure look almost angelic to Tom. You were his home. 

“What are you waiting for?” You mused while turning away from your (now) inside out suitcase, proudly carrying her pyjamas which you had found hidden at the bottom the whole time- not the most practical packing in the world. All the while Tom sat on his bed, back leaning against the headboard and arm bent behind his head too.

“Just thinking that I need to go through all the scenes for tomorrow” A monotonous tone laced his voice, for he knew he couldn’t spend the night the way he really wanted to, safely wrapped up with you.

“Oh… well let’s go through it together then hey? We will be done in no time; but if you want we can go over them again tomorrow morning.” It was a practical suggestion, a helpful action you could implement - even if you had a feeling Tom wouldn’t just agree. Since his lines clearly weren’t the only thing on his mind this evening. 

“Yeh but everyone on set is already sick of me after today… I can’t be being shit as well as horrid” his voice was small as the memory of how he snapped at some of the extras had him cringing inwardly at himself. He shouldn’t have been that rude, shouldn’t have blurted it out, should of offered a solution rather than just critiquing.

“Hey would you kindly shut it? No one is sick of you, everyone is just ready for christmas and missing their families. Now get changed” Your soft tone turning into an imperative order, as you threw his pyjama bottoms at the him, smashing into his face before falling into his lap.

“Oi” he shouted, but followed instructions and stood up reaching round to pull his hoodie off. Stood shirtless, his side was exposed to the now changed you, the sight making you gasp and clamber over the bed to gently touch Tom’s back. You followed the outline of an impressive patch of bruising, stretching from the bottom edge of his shoulder blade all the way to his hip. 

“Tom, what the hell happened?” Whispering in fear, Tom turned round to face you, seeing your eyes watering up as you kept glancing at his back. He was littered in a variety of purple, yellow and slightly green marks on the whole of his left flank. It looked like a minor crush injury, not something a pampered actor gets after a day of filming infront of tens of people including an onset medic and health and safety risk assessor. 

“What?” Tom asked before turning to the mirror and looking back over his shoulder to see the bruises for himself. He hadn’t expected the ache to look that bad. “oh - I - er… Today the scene, I get smashed to the floor by someone and I kept doing it wrong so we had to do it lots I guess.” He looked away and down at your feet, not being able to meet his girlfriends eyes suddenly. You just nodded, trying to blink back the tears-  he had truly been broken by this role both physically and now mentally- he hadn’t even put a stop to the constant and clearly severe pain. 

“Put your stuff on” your  voice was muted, as you waited for Tom to get prepared. He turned around again and then replaced his trousers and quickly pulled a top on to hide the marks, suddenly embarrassed. In the silence the sound of his clothes dropping to the floor, then of him sitting on the bed again- throwing his legs over so now he mirrored your position - the sounds were pretty defeaning.

“I love you so much….” Barely whispering, you suddenly ripped the duvet out from under you both holding it over you as you swung a leg over Tom so you straddled him, slightly leaning over him and letting the blanket rest on top of your back.In your position you looked down in an almost scary way to his warm brown eyes. Tom swore you were literally reading his thoughts, your intense gaze absolutely crumbling any walls he thought he’d be able to hold up. Pressing a gentle peck to his lips you then whispered onto his lips, letting him feel your words as well as hear them. “ …So that’s why we are going to sleep right now and you can worry about all of that tomorrow”

“Y/n I-“

“Your safe with me.” You were not standing for his nexuses and arguments, as you slid down his body - ending with your head resting on his chest, you legs tangled with his. Once you’re properly rested you’ll learn them ten times faster than what you can now… Before you get ill I am telling you to take a break. I’m not going to let you not. So relax and-….Tom?” Ending with a whisper, you delicately lifted your head off his slowly rising chest to see your broken boyfriend already asleep; lips parted as soft snores crept through the silence. In reality as soon as you’d said that he was safe the exhaustion had completely over taken him. Desperately needing to recharge his batteries, no matter how much he had wanted to stay up and work late it could never really happen - at this point physically impossible.

“Sleep well Tom” she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek with a sad smile.

///////////////////////////////////////////

The next day rolled around all too quickly, but the morning was much better than any of the past couple of months because you were together. Tom, having had a solid 7 hours of sleep compared to his normal 5, was for once ready for the day. He’d gone through the script with a certain someones help in record time, and now the three were just pulling up at the set. 

“You’ve been awful quiet this car ride…” you grinned as she clasped Tom’s hand across the empty seat, making Harry turn around and give you a warning glance. Oops. In a moment where Tom went to the loo at breakfast, Harry had fully disclosed everything that had happened on set yesterday- especially the  burst of anger. So naturally, Tom was feeling nervous and scared to face everyone. 

“It will be fine I promise… and if not tell them I’m your personal body guard- no one will be rude to you if me and Harry are ready to attack” Tom let out a breathy nervous laugh, only then meeting your eyes.

“ A fly wouldn’t be threatened by you two. Harry would just take a photo while you’d check their pulse or something”

“Errrm” Harry furrowed his eyebrows as he contorted round from the front seat so Tom could see his disapproving look, meanwhile Tom was dodging your affectionate fake-slaps.

“Children we’re here” Sian sighed as she brought the car to a steady halt “and if you could get through the day without killing each other I’d appreciate it, otherwise I’m out of the job”

“Not promising anything when I’ve got these pair to deal with” Tom grinned as he opened the car door, before anyone else could retaliate.You laughed before quickly following suit, joining Tom at the front of the car and interlocking your fingers with Tom’s. Hesitating for a moment Harry took a second before unplugging and leaning for the door handle.

“You see what I mean?” Turning his head to look at Sian “It’s sickening how happy they are.”

“Yeh but your glad about it don’t lie” she grinned, before practically shooing the poor boy out her car.

“But dont tell them!” Shouting in reply, as the car was already pulling out. 

Tom’s body seemed to tense more the closer you walked to the crew tent, you could feel the way he squeezed his shoulders back and his jaw tensed and untensed. There was little you could do apart from squeezing his hand that little bit tighter - further reiterating the fact you would always always be in his corner. Perhaps the most telling about Tom’s own character was how truly guilty he felt for the way he was with the crew. Normally, he was one of the most down to earth actors around - no trace of an ego or superiority complex. It didn’t matter if you were a cleaner or head of a multimillion dollar studio, Tom would pay both the same amount of respect. He always out that completely down to his upbringing and mum and dad, but even that was being humble. He was just a good person to the core, no one saw that more than you either. It’s part of love, you see the good and the bad parts of a person and promise to unashamedly love them all. 

Just before you both had made it into the main tent, Tom was pulled away. “Oh Tom we wanted to talk to you about yesterday!” The familiar voice of Joe Russo called, as he and Anthony  ran up to Tom from his left, giving a little nod of greeting to the actor, before falling in step with him.

“Morning, I-uh I wanted to apologise actually-“Tom was cut off while you hung back off to his right, not wanting to intrude on this conversation.

“No we should. The team were all being slow yesterday, and they were making some hard scenes harder on you. We really appreciate what you are putting yourself through for the sake of the film.”

“But still I acted like a brat and I’m sorry”

“Tom” Anthony spoke up for the first time. He was a man of limited words- but whenever he spoke everyone listened. “ You are one of the best, most-dedicated actors we’ve ever worked with. We’re all overtired, run down and ready for the holidays. You’re missing your family too. It’s already forgotten… So let’s just get on with the movie?” Tom smiled, pressing his lips together to stop their kindness overtaking his emotions. Tom always felt safe with the Russo’s. They’d dealt with him when he really just was a kid actor - overwhelmed and without a clue what was happening. They’d dealt with hiM adjusting to fame and the much bigger part Marvel seemed to want him to play in the future. They trusted him with this, most incredibly complex and also personal film for them. So when they spoke and they said it didn’t matter, Tom was much more likely to agree.  Then proceeded the bro-hugs, as the men all showed they were good with each other. 

“Well lets make a motherfucking movie!” Tom exclaimed once they broke the hug and the brothers laughed at him. “Oh where-d….” He muttered as he looked round before meeting your eyes, still standing rather awkwardly a couple of meters behind them. “ Joe, Anthony you remember Y/n?” Nodding and smiling the brothers beckoned you over; both greeting you with a warm handshake. 

“Good to see you again!” You grinned and the directors responded nodding.

“We didn’t know you were coming! I would’ve made a list of all my doctor question for you.” Joe winked, knowing your pet-peeve was people asking you all their gory body questions as soon as they found out she was a doctor. You didn’t need to know about you dentists acid reflux issue, you didn’t need to know about your granny’s friend’s constipation, and you really really didn’t need to know about an old friends erectile dysfunction.

“Ha ha ha “ You rolled your eyes sarcastically “ and no it was a bit of a spontaneous trip, I just landed last night.” Throughout the whole of the exchange Anthony had taken an aloof stance, just  observing you and Tom. Observing the bright smile Tom gave you, even when you were simply making small talk. The way he looked so much healthier, well rested and just happy, in the space of a single evening.

“I’m glad you’re here” Anthony basically interrupted the conversation, addressing you then immediately turning on his heel towards the set. 

“Uhh right- get to make up we’ll call a cast meeting in a bit” Joe stammered, giving his brother a funny look before addressing Tom “ and we’ll have to have a proper catch up later.” You nodded in response, as Joe turned and did a half jog to catch up with his brother. 

“That was weird!?” You frowned as you looked up at Tom. He explained the encounter in rather simplistic terms.

“That was Anthony.”

The morning was spent with Tom doing what he does best in front of the camera. They were shooting a larger scene for the army section of the movie, with at least 100 actual soldiers as extras, all geared up in full camo outfits. It was impressive, but also gave you a chance to meet Ciara - you’d been dying to meet her since Tom told you what a laugh she was. Fair to say you weren’t disappointed at all, you guys hitting it off instantly and you going as far as giving Ciara some embarrassing Tom stories that she could wind him up with in the future. Of course though, the main attraction was seeing Tom act first hand. Every time it astounded you, even though you knew that face so completely, in all his movies he fully had you believing he was someone else. It was mesmerising and you couldn’t be any prouder. 

“You’re amazing! I seriously forgot how good you are!” You ran over as Joe Russo called cut to the end of the morning shoot. 

“Well er thanks I guess” Tom furrowed his eyebrows as you wrapped him in a hug. He’d just canned a pretty hard scene and everyone was more than ready for a lunch break. You’s been watching from behind the cameras with Harry the whole time, after Tom gave you permission to sit in his special set chair.

“Seriously I’m very…. “ Her speech broken with an impressive yawn “….very proud of you.” In thanks Tom gave you a kiss first to your nose and then lips. 

“I take it someones not adapting to jet lag?” He chuckled as he pulled away and cupped your face in his hands.

“Which I’m totally ashamed about considering I work night shifts… my body clocks supposed to be better than this” Angrily, you vented, frustrated at your own body when all you wanted to do was stays within reaching distance of Tom. Even if Tom had had the best sleep of this whole shoot last night, you’d been to over excited and enthralled just absorbing every little thing about him that you’d missed so much that you’d been wide awake the majority of the night. If you blamed you fatigue on jet lag alone, it would be an impressive lie. 

“Go take a nap in my trailer… Harry can you take her?”

“Yes master” Harry bowed down and wobbled his head sarcastically, making you giggle. 

“At least this way you get a break from him” You grinned to Tom’s brother, which Harry could only agree with. Giving Tom a parting kiss , you followed Harry away from set. It was at this point that Anthony excused himself from the monitors reviewing the footage, and approached Tom.

“Kid… that was great that scene.”

“Thanks mate, means a lot” Getting his directors approval forever reassured Tom, letting him relax his shoulders a bit as he nodded gratefully to Anthony. 

“Well it’s just truth… so your girlfriend, Y/n right?”

“Yeh that’s her” Tom nodded, suddenly a little concerned as to where Anthony was going with this. You had met the Russo’s a number of times, and it never before seemed as though Anthony had an issue with you- at least to Tom’s knowledge.

“Right well um… you know how I don’t really get involved in all this stuff…” Tom nodded, folding his arms apprehensively. “But I just thought I should say that she’s really good for you.” Tom silently breathed a sigh of relief and waited for Anthony to get to the point. “Joe told me you had a rough patch at the beginning of the year so… I don’t know our industry is hard. And harder for you and her in the spotlight… Just seeing you with her today…Don’t be afraid to take the next steps with her…Don’t let her get away.” Tom was stunned to say the least. Anthony is the last person he had ever expected to get relationship advice from. 

“I um yeh… I don’t know I hadn’t really thought about it. I mean we’ve been together for 2 and a bit years, well including the break… she means the world to me-“

“Well don’t waste it”

And that was the end of the conversation. Anthony turned to his trailer to get lunch and Tom just stood, replaying the conversation in his head. Weird to say the least. 

But it did get the cogs turning. It did get Tom really seriously considering his future. Or rather considering your future together.

And that was for certain. It was you and him, always. 

[madelion]

hey, i'm an artist (or so i'm pretending to be) and i absolutely ADORE your art style and the way you draw so beautifully. What are some tips or what is some advice you could give me on anatomy, use of color or digital drawing generally? I've posted my art like once but I was so nervous of what people might think of it I made something super different to my actual style, so if you scroll on my page don't find it because i hate it lmao

Anyway, I would really like to hear what's some advice you have to give!

Hi!!! First of all, thank you so much for your sweet comment it means so much to hear that 🥺

So my bIGGEST TIPS I can possibly give (this is gonna be long I apologize in advance):

1. always always always use references.

I cannot stress this tip enough.

Whether it‘s for a certain pose you want to draw: you can go on Pinterest/google to find poses, clothing ideas, hairstyles, lighting, scenery. use references for EVERYTHING. no matter what people say it is not cheating. Sometimes we luck out and we magically draw the poses straight from our brain, but honestly that’s rare.

And it doesnt all have to be from real life. You can take inspiration from other artist whose styles you look up to/admire. For me that’s viria94(Instagram), aleikats, alexiakhodanian(twitter), spidertams(instagram) and many others! Obviously you don’t want to copy your inspirations, but you can learn so much from just observing their artwork :) Your inspirations will most likely change dramatically overtime because your art style will grow as you continue to improve. These inspirations are going to be a mashup of things you like about each individual style. And eventually, you’ll learn how to incorporate some of those elements into your own art which in turn: helps you find your own voice/style with your artwork.

but also, don’t forget to not copy them exactly lol. It’s one thing to “copy” an art style as a way to personally practice in your own time (which is totally okay to do!) But there is definitely a fine line between practicing/outright copying and claiming it as your own work. I hope that made sense???

2. Redraws

this is something I only just started doing, but it has helped my artwork improve immensely. I redraw scenes from shows and movies that I love (which I will get to this tip in a second). And then because the scene is already set for you, it helps you not only practice anatomy (especially if you’re referencing real people), but also lighting, setting up compositions, and in general practicing this over time will help you refine your art style!

3. Draw from life

Not everyone has a realistic art style, nor do they need to have one. However, it is important to understand the ”rules” before you can break them. And what I mean by that is that by practicing realistic anatomy, you get to understand proportions/how the body works in relation to itself. Because even though everyone is shaped differently from each other, there is still an overall similarity we all have with one another. And honestly all you have to do will go into my next point:

4. watch tutorials

Cannot even tell you how many tutorials I have watched over the years. I will forever be on YouTube trying to learn how to do something. this honestly goes with the references section because it just helps so so so much. Having someone show you exactly what to do is so beneficial because they’ll move you through the exact motions you need to do to get to the end result. I remember when I first started really getting into art, I loved drawing realistic eyes and lips. so I watched tutorials of that all the time and now it’s pretty much second nature to me.

since you asked about the use of color, anatomy, and digital drawing… this is gonna be golden for helping you okay. I might have taken a color theory class a couple quarters ago at school… but trust me I’m still winging the whole color thing. howEVER, tutorials will be your best friend when it comes to these things I pROMISE.

5. TAKE BREAKS

please for the love of all things do not push yourself to be creative when your mind refuses to do so. some of our best work/ideas appear when we’re bored or doing something else entirely.

taking a break means go do something else you enjoy. For me that’s: playing my favorite video game, watching my favorite show/movie, reading a book, talking to my friends or family, baking, writing. just do something else!

the moment you try to force yourself to finish a drawing when you’re really not in the mindset to do so (unless this thing you’re drawing is for school… that’s an entirely different thing trust me lol), you’re just going to lead yourself into an art block. So many artists pressure themselves to draw everyday because yeah it can lead to improvement, but back in my anne with an e days when I felt pressured to put out fan art consistently for the show, it led me to what was probably my longest art block EVER. and it sucks because I ender up losing the inspiration to draw for a show that I loved a lot. So always remember to pace yourself and take care of yourself before anything else <3

6. Draw what you love

so often we feel pressured to draw what others want us to draw. But that shouldn’t matter. yes, it’s good to be aware of the people that may look at your art/follow your art account, but that should never dictate the work that you create.

for some people they love drawing original characters and creating stories, others might only love drawing animals, some people have certain themes in their artwork, and others, like me, purely like drawing fan art.

when you draw something you love, your artwork will always turn out better because that means you’re having fun making it.

and for me personally, I cannot whip out original characters for the life of me unless it’s for a grade LOL. So when it comes to drawing, that’s why I stick to fan art.

NOW I KNOW THIS WAS SUPER SUPER LONG but I really hoped this helped in some sense!!!

But thank you so much for asking, I’m always more than happy to give out some advice/tips :) I’m looking forward to seeing more art from you!

[randomhl-vraifam]

So if you haven't seen @gryphsdeadbones and his incredible Gordon Cubed AU... go check it out, please. It's literally so fucking good, and you can read the comic @gordoncubed.

I asked if I could write something for this AU, and got the go ahead, so here we are! It was inspired by this ask and this ask, just in case anyone needs context for what's happening.

Anyway, uh... yeah. Here's a thing.

If you had told Gordon Freeman that, somewhere in the universe, there existed multiple versions of himself, each from very different dimensions, he might have actually believed you. He was a theoretical physicist, after all. The unknown and hypothetical was kind of his area of expertise.

However, if you had told him that his alternates were… like this? That he might have had a hard time believing. He was absolutely blown away by how much those two could talk. They did it constantly! Freeman wasn’t sure if they knew how to not talk. He considered, more than once, finding tape in one of the abandoned offices and sealing both their mouths shut.

He thought he’d be relieved if either of them decided to shut up.

Until one of them did.

Feetman (he still didn’t know what was up with that name) had been dangerously close to dying. Not that any of them were exactly safe from dying, but Feetman had ended up being a little closer to death than Freeman wanted to think about. He found himself wishing Feetman would talk more. If only to ensure that he was still conscious.

And he found himself wishing Freemind would talk less. A lot less.

It was almost as though the man felt the need to talk through the silence Feetman wasn’t filling. And he did so. Very obnoxiously. Normally, Freeman would tell him to knock off his shit, but he had a feeling that Freemind was just as nervous as he was, and the only outlet he had was talking. Freeman let it slide.

If you asked Freemind, he’d tell you that he gave absolutely no fucks about Feetman. He didn’t give a fuck about either of these idiots, aside from the fact that they were somewhat useful in getting through this hellhole. Except one of them was now considerably less useful.

Not only was Feetman less useful, he was a hindrance. Freemind didn’t like slow progress. He liked efficiency. He liked getting shit done. Dragging Feetman’s dumb ass around was not effecient and it wasn’t getting shit done. The guy seemed like he was almost always on the verge of collapsing.

So if he suggested that Feetman sit the fuck down, it was for the sake of making sure the idiot didn’t pass out and further impede their progress. Not because it bothered him to see the guy struggling to stand up straight. Because he didn’t give a fuck.

It’d gotten better after a couple of days, but only by a narrow margin. They weren’t having to stop as often, but Freeman was still adamant that Feetman not take any shifts on night watch, which Freemind found annoying as hell. He kept that opinion to himself, though. The silent member of the trio didn’t seem willing to compromise on the matter, and Freemind wasn’t willing to try and make him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off about it. Freeman could see Freemind getting more and more agitated. He snapped more often, and in more hurtful ways. There were only so many times Freeman could tell him to shut up, eventually Freemind got around to talking again.

Freeman didn’t mind stopping for Feetman when he needed it. More often than not, Freeman would have to put a hand on his left shoulder to stop him, to make him take a break. Every time, Feetman would say that he could keep going, even if he was on the verge of falling over. He hadn’t needed to stop during his first run, he’d insist, he didn’t need to stop now.

So when Feetman hesitantly grabbed his arm, Freeman stopped, immediately worried that his counterpart needed him for balance.

“Hey, uh…” Feetman looked at him blearily behind bent frames. Freeman was sure all of their glasses were damaged at this point. His own lenses were cracked. “Can we- I hate to ask, but…” He trailed off, seeming to lose his train of thought.

Freeman steadied Gordon with one hand, then quickly signed, “Do you need to stop?”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah, I think- should probably… yeah. Gordon, uh, hurt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you serious?” Freemind groaned, clearly in one of his more irritable moods. “We’re never gonna get anywhere like this!”

Deciding to ignore Freemind, Freeman ushered their limbless counterpart to a nearby room. This wasn’t a part of Black Mesa he’d frequented, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the room was for. Peeking inside, it looked like a lab of sorts. The broken bunsen burners were a pretty good indication that this particular lab had worked with chemicals.

The room looked safe enough to hunker down for a few minutes, and he needed to check on Feetman’s arm. Probably wouldn’t hurt to check under Freemind’s eyepatch, too. He was fairly certain no one had been in there aside from a couple of aliens, considering none of the lights were on, and the cabinets that might have contained anything useful were closed.

Downside, there was probably gonna be a lot of chemical spills. Upside, there was probably a medical kit.

Feetman stopped before going in. “Why are the lights out in there?”

Freeman heard Freemind scoff behind him, but he flicked the light switch, and Feetman relaxed considerably. Freemind grew increasingly agitated as Freeman searched the room for a medical kit. “Why the fuck are you babying him? We need to move!”

Freeman pulled the lab’s medkit off the wall, tempted to throw it at Freemind, but restrained himself. “Let me see your eye.”

“Nah,” Freemind said. “I’m all good. Not gonna bitch about a stupid injury like some people.”

“Fuck you, man,” Feetman muttered. He winced as Freeman started pulling off his bandages, and waved off the signed apology.

Freemind snorted. “Yeah, no thanks.” He kicked at a pile of broken glass that had most likely been a beaker at some point. “If he’s gonna be fucking useless or whatever, then the two of us should scope the area. Make sure there’s nothing around.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, exactly, but Feetman immediately froze at the suggestion. “Uh- I don’t…” Freeman raised an eyebrow, but continued to change the bandages on what was left of his arm. He had a feeling that Feetman didn’t want to be by himself for any extended period of time. Couldn’t blame him, really.

“What?” Freemind snapped, “Gonna bitch about being alone, too?” Feetman averted his gaze, which was all the confirmation Freemind needed to know that he was right. “What are you, six? Man up.”

Freeman shot him a glare. “Go by yourself.”

Freemind scowled. “Are you stupid? I’m missing an eye! Can’t see shit coming from my left.”

“Then stay in here and stop complaining,” Freeman signed. Freemind wasn’t sure how he managed such a clipped, irritated tone with his hands, but the mute managed. He might have been something close to impressed if he wasn’t so pissed off.

“Fine,” Freemind spat. “Whatever. Don’t listen to the smartest person on the team.”

Feetman’s face scrunched in thought. “Aren’t we… like, the same person?”

“No. Because I’m better.” Freemind leaned against the wall. “Honestly, you guys are so lucky to have me around. You’d probably both be dead if I wasn’t here.” Freeman had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Something to say?”

Freeman, of course, said nothing. Freemind couldn’t decide if he could take the silence as a win or not. He couldn’t argue with someone that wouldn’t--or couldn’t--talk back, and he couldn’t win an argument they weren’t having. How was he supposed to prove he was better if Freeman wasn’t even giving him the option?

So Freemind, bored and irritated, did the only thing he could think to do: push every button until something happened. “How long are you gonna play nursemaid? I’ve got better things to do than waste away in this hellhole.”

“You’re not the only one who wants to go home, man,” Feetman said. “You’re just the only one complaining about it all the time.”

Freeman suppressed a laugh as he finished wrapping Feetman’s arm. He could see Freemind getting huffy in his peripheral, but paid it no mind. The guy had largely been all bark and no bite during this whole ordeal, although Freeman didn’t doubt the guy had started a few fights in his time. He’d probably start one now if it weren’t for the fact that they needed each other for survival.

Freemind wasn’t all bad (it was pretty damn close to all, though). Freeman had seen the softer side of him, hidden under about a million layers of a complex superiority/inferiority complex. He’d tried toughing it out the first day after he’d lost his left eye, but by the second day he was hovering closer to Freeman and Feetman.

He had called it a strategic advantage. They could see, he could not. If he had one of them on his left, they’d be his lookout, or a sufficient meat-shield. Whichever the situation called for.

Neither of them missed the way he’d occasionally reach out to tap an arm. Or the way he’d intentionally bump a shoulder and then angrily insist that they had been in the way. They didn’t say anything about it, though. Freemind would only be an even bigger pain in the ass if they pointed it out.

Freeman was less pissed that Freemind was protecting his dignity, and more pissed that he wasn’t offering Feetman the same courtesy of not mentioning his weakness. Then again, Freemind was probably too insecure to admit he cared.

“Well, at least I’m not scared of the fucking dark,” Freemind said triumphantly. “I’ve seen you clingin’ to Freeman over there whenever the lights get dim.”

Feetman rolled his eyes, “Oh, yeah. Like you haven’t been clinging to both of us the past couple of days.”

Freemind’s face reddened. In embarrassment or anger, Freeman couldn’t be sure. “Are you calling me a coward?”

“No, but…” Feetman chuckled under his breath, quietly singing, “You are a pirate.”

“Bold words coming from the cripple of the group,” Freemind seethed. “Are we ready to go or not? I’m tired of waiting around for you fucking idiots.”

Freeman snapped the medkit closed and signed, “Then go.” Freemind glared, but didn’t move. A testament to how much he actually relied on their presence.

It was a liability. One that Freemind hated himself for having. Being dependent on people wasn’t exactly his style. Yet here he was, unable to leave this stupid room because he couldn’t leave without these two idiots. Well, he could, but he wasn’t going to.

After a few more minutes of Freeman fussing over Feetman’s missing arm, Feetman claimed that he was ready to go. Freemind thought it was about fucking time, but Freeman didn’t seem so sure.

Freemind couldn’t figure out why Freeman was being such a mother hen about all this. Usually it was Feetman doing that, which made sense, considering they guy had a kid. Freemind thought he’d be glad to have Feetman off his back about his eye and everything else, but Freeman was almost worse. At least Feetman listened somewhat, even if it was just to bicker with him. Freeman would just tell him to shut up.

He ducked out of the room while Freeman and Feetman continued a mostly one-way conversation. Ironically enough, it was Freeman doing most of the talking. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“We can stay a few more minutes, if you need to.”

“I said I’m fine, man,” Feetman said. “Or- well… as ‘fine’ as I’m gonna get.” He glanced out to the hallway. “Think his eye is okay?”

Freeman shrugged. “He’ll start complaining when he wants someone to look at it.”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah… alright. Guess we better get moving before he-”

“Will you two hurry the fuck up!” Freemind shouted from the hallway. “You morons are slower than my dead grandmother!”

A cheerful smile overtook Feetman’s face, taking Freeman by surprise. “Gordon,” he said happily, “I crave violence!”

The moment was gone before Freeman could question it. He’d learned to stop asking about Feetman’s little outbursts. They were his friends, supposedly. Something about his first run? Freeman didn’t know. And there was no telling what might trigger it, so Freeman mostly relied on context.

Like now, for instance. Even if the smile was cheerful, the words suggested Feetman was about two seconds from strangling Freemind with his remaining hand. So Freeman decided it’d probably be best to keep the two separate. At least until they both calmed down a little.

Freemind noticed Freeman’s efforts to keep them separated. He decided against pushing any more buttons, since Feetman seemed capable of talking back, despite his injury. And, honestly, how dare he talk back to a god like Freemind?

Really, he didn’t understand why Feetman was getting so worked up about everything damn thing. Freemind himself hated being a liability, so why was Feetman so insistent on being one all the fucking time? It was infuriating. Feetman should be just as on guard as he was, not overreacting about a dark room. They didn’t have time for him to be scared of every damn thing.

None of them liked the dark. So why was Feetman being such a bitch about it?

Freeman suddenly waved a hand to get his attention. “Storage area.”

Freemind grinned. “Nice! Might find some guns in there.”

“Or supplies,” Feetman added.

“Whatever,” Freemind dismissed, already shoving past him to take a look around the storage room.

Unfortunately, it looked pretty ransacked already, but the three men spread out to search through the splintered crates. Well, Freemind and Freeman did anyway. Feetman just seemed to be smashing them, for some reason. He stopped after a couple of minutes and frowned. “Why am I smashing crates?”

Freemind’s face twisted in confusion. This guy might actually be losing it. “Are you brain dead or something?” Feetman blinked at him. “Know what? Fuck it. Never mind.” Freeman was better at dealing with whatever that issue was. Apparently, Feetman’s… ‘friends’... really liked smashing crates.

The dude was seriously fucked up. Not just his arm, either.

He wasn’t finding anything useful, and was about to see if Freeman had found anything, when the lights suddenly flickered. “What the-” ‘fuck’ didn’t get a chance to leave his mouth before the room went completely dark.

For a moment, he thought he’d lost his other eye. A spike of panic tore through him at the thought of being totally blind during an alien invasion, but then remembered that he’d seen the lights flicker. It was just a power outage. His eye was fine.

“Um… guys?” Feetman called out. “Where- you guys still in here?”

Freemind started to answer back, ‘Yes, dumbass, of course we’re still here,’ but he stopped himself. Feetman needed to stop being a bitch about the dark, and here was the perfect opportunity for some exposure therapy. And if Freemind didn’t say anything, then Feetman would have to get over his thing about being alone, too.

It was two birds with one stone. If Feetman could handle being alone, in the dark, until the backup generator for this area kicked on, then everything else would be a cakewalk by comparison. Without Feetman bitching all the time, they could get out faster.

Genius plan. Foolproof. God, he was so fucking smart. And the best part was, Freeman couldn’t even ruin it. The guy didn’t talk, and his sign language was useless in the dark.

“Freeman?” Feetman tried again. “Did- did you guys leave?” Perfect. Feetman thought he was alone. Now all he had to do was stay calm and- “This isn’t funny, guys!”

Freemind raised an eyebrow, kind of a useless gesture in the dark, but it felt necessary. This wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be productive. It was a solution to a problem. Freemind was fixing the problem. All Feetman had to do was stay calm. How difficult could it be?

He bit back a curse as he heard footsteps to his left. Freeman was trying to find Feetman! That would ruin this whole thing! Did Freeman not understand what he was trying to do here? No, of course he didn’t. Why would he? He was an idiot, just like everyone else.

“Who is that?” Feetman asked in a wavering voice. “What are you doing?!” The footsteps stopped. Freemind smiled, glad that his plan was back on track, but frowned again when he heard the unmistakable sound of the HEV suit hitting something. The wall? The floor? Did Feetman trip over something? What a goddamn moron.

Feetman had indeed hit the floor, tripping over a demolished crate in his attempt to back away from whoever was moving towards him.

Freemind wasn’t answering him. He couldn’t see Freeman. Did something happen to them? Were they okay? Was this another ambush? Did the other two set this up? They couldn’t have. Could they? Would they? He’d been betrayed by people he trusted before...

The darkness closed in on him more and more with every terrified thought that ran through his head. His arm throbbed in time with his heartbeat, which was entirely too fast and he couldn’t make it stop. He wanted to call out again, for Freeman or Freemind or anyone, but his throat closed up with panic before he could. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like he was dying. Maybe he was dying.

Freeman heard Feetman’s choked off gasp, and started moving again. He knew the approaching footsteps were going to freak Feetman out, but he needed to make sure his counterpart wasn’t injured. His eyes were starting to adjust a bit, letting him make out the barest outline of the boxes closest to him so he could move around them, but finding Feetman was an entirely different challenge.

Finally, he could see the vague shape of Feetman, on his knees and curled in on himself. He hoped the lights came back on soon. Because once he helped Feetman, he had a universal sign for Freemind that relied heavily on his middle finger. Was this his idea of a joke?

Feetman was hyperventilating, mumbling incoherently as Freeman slowly knelt down next to him. He tapped the floor lightly in hopes that Feetman would understand that this was a friend. Not an alien or a soldier, not a threat. But Feetman didn’t seem to register it, if anything, he only seemed to panic more.

After a few seconds of Freeman trying desperately to come up with a solution, the fluorescent lights whirred back to life. Freemind was standing on the other side of the room, looking almost annoyed at the situation. Then he saw Feetman collapsed on the ground, and his expression softened into something resembling concern.

“Whoa, the fuck?” He made his way over to his two alternates, wondering where the hell his plan went wrong. “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

Freeman sliced a hand across his throat, the unofficial sign for ‘cut that shit out’, then signed, “Help him.”

Freemind suddenly felt very out of his element. How the fuck was he supposed to help? “Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat nervously.

Nervously? Since when did he get nervous?

Maybe since he’d unintentionally plunged someone into a panic attack.

Shut up, he scolded himself. He was Gordon ‘Freemind’ Freeman. He didn’t make mistakes. He just… miscalculated. A little. Not enough to count as a failure.

“Listen, just- just calm down, it’s… the lights are back on, okay? You can stop freaking out.” There. Facts. Feetman hated the dark, and now there was no more dark.

“Shut up,” Feetman said in a strangled voice. “Sh-shut the fuck up.”

Hm. Okay. That was bad, Freemind was pretty sure. “Okay, well, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do here, so I’m just gonna keep talking.” Feetman shook his head. “Yeah, I am. Because you’re so stuck in your own stupid brain that-” Freeman nudged him. “What?”

“Just talk,” Freeman signed angrily. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Freemind huffed. “Listen, I didn’t… I didn’t know the dark was gonna fuck with you that bad. I thought you’d, like, get over it. Which you didn’t. And that’s bullshit, but whatever. Next time I won’t do that.”

Feetman tensed. “Next time?” He asked frantically, “What- there’s gonna be a next time? I can’t-”

“What? No!” Freemind exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant, you- fuck.” He looked to Freeman for help. “Any other great ideas?”

Freeman didn’t know. On reflex, he reached out to put a hand on Feetman’s arm. Of the three of them, Feetman was probably the most touch-oriented. He knew his mistake as soon as his hand grazed the HEV suit, Feetman immediately recoiling, eyes wide with fear .

“Get away from me!” Freeman started to pull back, realizing too late that this was the wrong arm to touch in the moment. But before he could apologize, pain exploded across the right side of his face. He could see Feetman scrambling backwards through the stars in his eyes. Feetman really packed a punch.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” Freemind yelled. “Why’d you do that, Freeman was trying to help, dumbass!”

He shook his head to get Freemind’s attention. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have scared him.” He should have known better. He should have made sure Feetman was okay first. He refused to blame Feetman for lashing out during such a vulnerable moment.

The panicked haze in Freeman’s eyes cleared a bit. “F- fuck, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Freeman shook his head, assuring Feetman that he was fine. “What happened? You… the lights went out and I couldn’t- you weren’t…”

Freeman glanced at Freemind, having more or less the same question. “Why didn’t you say anything when the lights went out?”

Freemind at least had the decency to look… guilty? The expression was so foreign on Freemind’s face that Freeman almost didn’t recognize it. “I was- I had this plan.” He stopped like he expected to be interrupted, then continued when he realized that Freeman and Feetman were still listening, “I thought you were kinda overreacting about the dark and shit. So I was trying to help you, like, get over yourself. And that didn’t, uh… that didn’t work.”

Feetman wheezed. “You- you’re an idiot.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Why the fuck did you think that would work? That’s the stupidest-”

“Shut up.”

“-thing I have ever heard in my-”

“Feetman, so help me god, I will turn these lights back off.”

“-entire fucking life,” Feetman finished. Freemind grumbled, but otherwise held his tongue. Feetman then turned to Freeman and winced. “Jesus, man, your face. I’m real sorry about that.”

Freeman shrugged. “I’ve had worse. It was my fault, anyway.” Feetman didn’t look convinced, biting his lip and holding his right arm tight to his chest. He figured now was probably a better time to ask, “Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Feetman said. Then, after a moment, “Maybe… yeah.” He glanced at Freemind. “As long as the resident pirate isn’t gonna be a dick about it.”

Freemind narrowed his eye. “Shut up.” But despite the venom in his voice, he leaned against Feetman’s left side. “Don’t say another word.”

Freeman slung an arm around Feetman, giving him a reassuring squeeze that neither of them could feel, but it was the thought that counted. Feetman almost immediately relaxed into the embrace, quietly muttering a word Freeman didn’t recognize, “Pog.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Freemind asked. “No, actually, I don’t care. I hate it. Don’t ever say that again.”

Feetman laughed again, lightly bickering with Freemind until all three of them were ready to go. There wasn’t much they could salvage in the storage area, unfortunately, but hopefully they’d find something later.

Freemind didn’t make another comment about Feetman’s fear of being alone or in the dark. If you asked him, he’d say that Feetman bitching about the dark was marginally more productive than him being collapsed on the floor. Again, it was all just survival.

And if anyone said that they saw him quietly talking to Feetman at night, distracting him from the dark and the pain in his arm until he fell asleep, that person was a goddamn liar.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: Referenced child abuse, blood

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 4/16 (all chapters)

You were scared of a lot of things: bugs, dark places, ghosts, drowning and more. Your friends often joked that you were a wimp and you’d bever been inclined to disagree.

There was one thing, however, that scared you above all others. It sent shivers down your spine and left your legs wobbling from under you.

It was the door to your father’s home office.

Your father was a prosecutor and a pretty notorious one at that, famous for the number of guilty verdicts he had achieved over the years. He had an incredible advantage, of course- the same lie detection quirk that he had passed onto you. He spent most of his evenings alternating between his work and home offices, going over the details of cases and preparing for a never ending stream of plaintiffs.

His home office was a near perfect replica of the one in the city, complete with a golden name plaque on the door. You passed it every day, multiple times a day, and each time broke out in goosebumps as if the door watched you in turn.

It wasn’t only the plaintiffs your father needed to find guilty.

Your father was not in the least bit conservative with his quirk. You spent many an afternoon there, jaw clenched and skin crawling at his line of questioning.

Tell me… why were you late?

Tell me… how long did you study?

Tell me… who were you with?

You hated being left so exposed and, in retrospect, you weren’t in the least bit surprised that you ended up vanilla instead of habanero, desperately seeking a simple married life.

The anxiety of standing outside of your father’s home office stayed with you into adulthood, even now that you had your own home. You had started to believe it no longer had an effect on you; that you no longer remembered how it felt.

As you stood outside of the hospital door, though, you remembered clearly.

Hand trembling, you reached up to knock.

━

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER

“Maybe if I move it that way…”

You scrolled through your calendar and let out a sigh at the appointments already there.

“No good, no good.”

You sat back in your chair and stretched, popping your shoulders and wiggling your toes.

“Maybe…”

You had a moment of inspiration, only to groan and click out of the window.

With the sports festival around the corner, your schedule was on the verge of taking a beating. Between modifying your office hours to make appointments with students to discuss their offers, to making room for counselling for those suffering disappointment, to keeping your usual appointments and open office hours, you were starting to consider bringing a futon and moving into your office for the foreseeable future. You’d known it was going to be a tight squeeze, but hadn’t counted on it being this bad.

You logged out of your computer and climbed out of your chair, giving your back a quick rub before leaving your office. You needed an IV of coffee, but a cup would have to do.

You were still thinking about your itinerary as you passed the 1-A classroom. Normally, between Kirishima, Bakugo and Iida, you heard the classroom long before you passed it. Today, though, it was silent and you peered through the window.

You’d heard that they were going on a trip with Thirteen to the USJ for specialist training and, if their empty desks were anything to go by, had already left. You had taken a tour of the facility during your initial induction and it had taken everything you had to keep your jaw from hitting the ground. You knew that UA was well funded, but it didn’t really sink in until then.

You wondered how they were getting on. Had Bakugou destroyed anything yet? Had Midoriya broken any of his bones?

You were still considering it as you passed the faculty lounge, dragged out of your thoughts by the sound of voices within. It sounded like the principal, though you weren’t sure who he was speaking to. You wondered if it was a private conversation and you should come back another time.

You knocked a couple of times before peeping around the door.

“Sorry,” you said, “am I interrupting?”

You really had heard the principal and he appeared to be sharing tea with All Might.

You weren’t sure you would ever be prepared for the sight of All Might in his skinnier form. Like most youngsters of your generation, you had watched his heroic acts in awe. You hadn’t known he was going to join the faculty at the time of your own job application and still found your heart racing whenever you passed him in the corridors.

You had signed eighteen different nondisclosure agreements after successfully taking on the job at UA, of which well over half related to the Symbol of Peace. You knew that he had been injured very badly and was losing his strength at an alarming rate. Even so, it was difficult to adjust to the reality.

“Ah, (Name), come in, come in,” said Principal Nezu, “we were just sharing a cup of tea, would you like some?”

You wanted coffee, but Nezu had already started to pour.

“Of course,” you said, closing the door behind you and taking a seat.

“You got here just in time,” said Nezu, pushing your cup across the coffee table. “We were discussing the fundamentals of teaching.”

“That sounds interesting,” you said, taking a sip of tea. “You must have a lot of insight.”

All Might twitched beside you, visibly restless. You wondered how long Nezu had been talking.

“Apologies,” he said, setting down his cup, “I should get going. I’ve already rested for far too long.”

He got up and walked towards the door, taking a deep breath before transforming into the muscular form the world knew and loved.

You would never get used to that either.

“So, (Name),” said Principal Nezu, “how are you finding the school? I trust you’ve had support from our staff?”

“Everyone’s been really kind,” you said. “I know they’re busy with their own workloads this term, but they’ve had so much time for me.”

You wrapped your hands around your cup, warmth flooding your fingers. You wanted to explain how grateful you were for the opportunity -that not so long ago your life had been falling apart- but you never got the chance, for the door to the lounge flew open and a student stormed inside.

“Principal Nezu! Something terrible has happened!”

It was Iida from 1-A, dressed in his hero costume and visibly out of breath. Your blood ran cold and you glanced across at Nezu, who had gotten to his feet.

“USJ...there’s been an invasion at USJ! Please help!”

Nezu’s response to the matter was swift and efficient. He turned to you, visibly transformed from the mild mannered principal who had offered you a cup of tea.

“(Name),” he said. “I’m going to gather everyone available. I need you to liaise with the authorities.”

“Of course,” you said, setting aside your tea and whipping out your phone.

“Meet us there,” he said as you began to dial.

“S-sir?”

You weren’t a pro hero; what possible use could you be?

━

His intentions soon became clear.

While your colleagues rushed into the danger zone, you stayed behind with the police, hitching a ride with Tsukauchi to the station once the area was secure.

Time was of the essence. You had read enough crime statistics to know that villain attacks very often came in waves, making the next few hours crucial to the safety of UA. Having a human lie detector on hand during the interrogations was more than a little bit useful.

You only wished you could concentrate.

Everything you knew about the incident came straight from Tsukauchi, so even though you had never actually seen the full extent of the carnage, you knew enough for your imagination to run wild.

You knew that the students had escaped with minor injuries and, while Shouta was badly hurt, he wasn’t dead. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, especially since the only image of the incident you had seen was that of his goggles broken on the floor.

You sat beside Tsukauchi in the interrogation room, silent as they brought in prisoner after prisoner. You only spoke to activate your quirk; only dragged yourself out of your contemplations to ask the same set of questions.

Three hours later, you knew only fractionally more than you did to begin with. The villains you’d caught were blatant throwaways, with no knowledge at all of the man they’d followed into battle or a greater scheme. They’d all wanted to take a shot at the symbol of peace and had no idea how close they had come to succeeding.

“Are you going to be alright?” Tsukauchi asked as interrogations came to a close.

You knew you must have looked a mess, popping aspirin and pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I’ll be fine,” you said, “honestly.”

“I’ll organise a car to take you to UA,” he said, but you shook your head.

“No, no that’s okay. I need to go somewhere first.”

━

Technically, you had two places to go first.

You stopped by the police station washroom to freshen up, leaning over the sink as the migraine set in. You pinched the bridge of your nose and watched as it began to bleed.

You weren’t used to using your quirk for such a long period of time and had almost certainly overdone it. The bleeding began to slow and you switched on the tap, washing away the blood on your face before plugging your nostrils with tissue paper. Unfortunately, you had still managed to bleed on your collar.

Just your luck that you would use your quirk too much on the day you decided to wear your new white blouse. You cursed at your reflection, trying and failing to adjust your shirt in such a way that it wasn’t noticeable.

Even now, you couldn’t concentrate.

You had never crossed paths with so many villains in one day. You had watched your father cross examine witnesses and plaintiffs many, many times, but had never been in his shoes. You hated it.

You knew exactly how they felt when you activated your quirk, recognised the squirming as it crawled through their skin. Part of you had enjoyed it, knowing that their discomfort in that moment did not compare to the violence they had inflicted on others.

Shouta.

The violence they had inflicted on Shouta.

He was a hero, you told yourself. He had signed up to fight those very same villains.

Even so, you hated them for it in ways you’d never hated a villain before.

You thought back to your training and took a deep breath.

“This is normal,” you whispered. “This is normal. This is a negative emotional response to a distressing situation. This is normal, we’ll move on.”

You took another deep breath, but your heart still rattled.

What is it that’s bothering me?

You reached into your purse for your makeup, painting away the shock for now at least.

We can work through that later.

━

PRESENT

And so, there you were, standing outside of Shouta’s room in the hospital.

They’d put him under the care of one of the best doctors in Musutafu, who assured you that surgery had been a success and his life was not in danger. There was a high chance his quirk would be affected by the damage to his orbital floor but even that was lucky, all things considered.

You tapped at the door and let yourself inside, taking in the calm and quiet of the room. Shouta was tucked up in bed and connected to numerous monitors, their steady beeps breaking the silence. You closed the door behind you and crept over to the bed, taking in the bandages that covered almost every inch of his body.

You had always known that heroes risked death and worse on a daily basis but had never seen it in person. You didn’t know how to feel about seeing him bloodied and broken. You had seen this man naked; you’d held onto the arms that a villain had broken. Did it always feel this personal?

You took a seat next to his bed, taking note of exactly how much of him was covered in bandages. You wouldn’t have known it was him if you hadn’t been told otherwise.

You didn't know what you had expected to find at the hospital, only that it would give you closure.

Why, then, did you still feel so uneasy?

You recalled his words from only recently, after you had given him a faceful of pepper spray.

Why would you try and confront a villain without help? You could have gotten yourself killed.

You need to be more rational in these things. Running head on into danger gets people killed.

Why hadn’t he followed his own advice?

Truthfully, you knew exactly why.

He had been well aware of the danger, but made the call anyway. He had analysed the situation and prioritised the lives and safety of his students over his own. It was the right thing to do and the rational part of you knew that, but you didn’t feel very rational right then.

You had to report back to Nezu; had to adjust your schedule ready for trauma counselling. You weren’t the only one who had been exposed to an unprecedented amount of villains that day. 1-A had almost certainly seen too much too soon.

You knew you had to leave, yet felt guilty as you got to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, hoping that your words would reach him through the anesthesia. “I have to go...but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

You promised yourself that you’d skip lunch if you had to.

“See you,” you said, leaning over to kiss his forehead as if on autopilot.

Your heart skipped a beat once you realised what you’d done.

Oh God, what were you thinking?

You reached into your purse for your chapstick as you left the room, so focused on painting away the kiss that you didn’t notice his fingers twitch.

[sierraraeck]

Daylight

Spencer x GN! Reader

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: After a long time without answers and your relationship ending on rocky terms, you run into Spencer and can finally put things to rest. Part one.

The prompt from @veraiconcos Fic Writer Challenge was “If I asked you to stay, would you?” This is bolded within the fic.

Category: Angst. Just pure angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Mention of normal CM stuff. Suggestive content.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: This was initially a songfic and now it’s not, however it was still inspired by the song “Daylight” by Maroon 5. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too. Also, I tried to make this gender neutral, but if I did not, please let me know what I need to correct.

Internal dialogue

Flashback

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

In one word, complicated.

Yes, that was a cliche and overused, but there was really no better way to describe your relationship with Spencer. Unless of course people preferred terms like arduous, intricate, convoluted, twisted, entangled, or your personal favorite, fucked up. Although, that might be a little harsh. Kind of. It was complicated.

And things continued on that path when you waltzed into the San Jose precinct, ready to defend your client against none other than the BAU.

Despite being 28, you were already one of the most successful defense attorneys in the state, and had already had a couple run-ins with the FBI. Luckily, none of those had been against the ‘all-powerful’ behavioral analysis unit, and you were able to wrangle out some wins, or at least, the best you could have hoped for given the circumstances. This time, a man, Brayden Lee, had been arrested as a suspect for a series of strangulations, all of the victims tall, blonde, college athletes. Looking over his case and the amount of evidence against him, you felt sure that you could manage a favorable deal.

But now, your strides faltered as you saw the team of profilers standing around in a circle, speaking in hushed voices, immediately turning around to watch you in. Well, it wasn’t necessarily them that teetered your confidence, it was more like him. And that damn hair.

You were at your older brother’s graduation. A small, skinny kid with moppy brown curls walked across the stage, the gown he was wearing clearly three sizes too big for him. He looked really young, about your age, which immediately interested you.

“Spencer Reid,” the announcer called. He accepted his diploma, moved his tassel from one side to the other, and plopped right back down in his seat.

You just stared at him from your place high up in the bleachers, almost missing your brother as he walked across the stage. You clapped and cheered, but you still couldn’t tear your eyes from the strange kid who’d walked across moments before him. When the ceremony was over, you asked your brother who he was, and all he gave you was a shrug and an arched eyebrow. That was not exactly the answer you were looking for. So you took it upon yourself, being the awkwardly brave kid you were at 12, to find him and learn more. You ended up taking him home after the ceremony, and that was that. You still remember the dopey smile he gave you as he hopped out of the backseat, a smile that you would miss for three more years.

You tried to compose yourself as you avoided eye contact with any of them, marching toward the interrogation room to have some time alone with your client. But it had never been this hard to concentrate before.

Snap out of it. It’s been four fucking years, six if you really think about it, so you need to get it together. This man, the one right in front of your face, needs your help.

So you did just that. As a lawyer, you had to have intense focus, so you made yourself hone in on that skill. The two older men of the team came in to have quite the nice chat with you and your client, but it ended fairly close to how you predicted. He would be let off, for now, but you would have to stay on call in case they found more evidence of your client’s guilt. You ushered Brayden out of the station and into a cab, telling him that you’d be in touch if anything else came up and to keep a low profile.

You were ready to be done, but had to make sure there weren’t any other loopholes or things they weren’t telling you before you could leave. You trudged back into the precinct, expecting to talk to the two men you saw earlier, but found that once-nerdy boy you used to know waiting for you. Not to say he wasn’t still nerdy, you were sure he was, but he’d definitely changed since the last time you saw him.

You tried to act as professional as possible, “Is there anything else that I need to know about this case and your evidence against my client?” Honestly, you were shocked at how calm your voice sounded.

“As long as you’ve heard about his recent purchases and easy access to the material used to strangle these women, no,” he responded, just as casually.

“Okay great, and nothing else in the profile I should be aware of?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then,” you said, turning on your heels to walk out.

“That’s it?” Spencer’s tone suddenly sounded confused, even accusatory, which was such a stark contrast to the smoothe, gentle voice you remembered.

You were at the local library studying for your midterms before the holiday break. No one really went there anymore, and there were a ton of good research tools available, so it was the perfect quiet study spot. Well, mostly quiet, that was, until the ever-so-irritating ping of books being checked out was going off non-stop. You’d had enough, so you shot over your shoulder, “Jesus, how many books do you need?”

The pinging immediately stopped, and you heard a small, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

It wasn’t a lot, but something about that voice seemed familiar. You turned fully around to see those piercing gold eyes staring at you, and you recognized those curls.

“No way. You’re the kid who graduated high school at age twelve! I remember you,” you blurted before really thinking.

“Yeah. Hey (y/n),” he said.

“I’m so sorry I snapped at you like that…”

“Spencer,” he filled in, after hearing you hiss like a snake, trying to jog your memory of his name.

“Spencer! Sorry about that, I’m just kinda stressed about my exams,” you explained.

“It’s okay, I understand,” Spencer replied, gesturing to his ever-growing pile of books.

You inquired about how things were going for him, and he told you all about how his first year and a half in college had been, already obtaining his bachelor’s in mathematics.

“That’s so impressive. Think you could help me?” you said in a somewhat mocking tone.

Of course, he took you seriously, not picking up on the half-joke. “Sure.”

Although, you were thrilled he offered, and the two of you spent the next couple of hours talking about high school and college classes, your seemingly easy math compared to his, and him helping you with any other subject you needed help with, like AP biology and psychology. At the end of the night, you gave him your phone number, trying to cover up your little crush with a joke about needing his help as you rushed out into the freezing night air.

He never used it.

“Yeah. That’s it,” you shot over your shoulder.

“(y/n), hold on, I-” he started.

“Doctor Reid, they need you in the conference room,” some lady said. Now that caught your attention. You spun back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. His mouth was slightly agape, and his eyes flitted between you and the lady who told him he was needed.

“What are you waiting for, Doctor,” you sneered. He let out a sigh, giving you one last pointed look before turning away. You didn’t even know people called him ‘doctor’ now.

You returned home, hoping that the case would get cleared up easily, that they’d find a different culprit and you wouldn’t have to risk that floodgate of emotions bursting open. No such luck. They found Brayden at the scene of the crime, literally in the middle of digging up an old victim to do god knows what with, and took him back into custody. When you got back to the precinct, you told your client not to say a word, and asked what the charges were and if he was going to be transferred in the meantime. The answers to your questions were not in your favor, and you had one of the worst client-lawyer conversations you'd ever experienced. The man wouldn’t tell you a damn thing, and if he didn’t tell you anything, then you couldn’t help him. Of course, it was your job to try and help him as best as you could, but you whole-heartedly believed he was guilty too, which didn’t help you keep the right mindset. Plus, your heart was pounding into your ears for more reasons than being across the table from a serial killer.

Focus, please, you begged yourself. And you did, for a while, but it became a futile effort. At one point you just wanted to say ‘fuck this shit, lock him up’ and leave, you were that desperate.

When it was all over and the station was getting everything together in order to transfer him to a holding facility, you tried to slip out the doors and wait outside. Only moments after, though, you heard the door squeak back open.

“(y/n),” Spencer started.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly interjected. You had been contemplating for the last day or so if you needed to apologize, and just figured you would, if not for your sake, for your clients’. I mean, they would probably end up testifying at some point, not like that was the main thought going through your mind, but you convinced yourself it was. “I shouldn’t have conducted myself like that earlier. It was unprofessional and you were just trying to talk to me.”

“It’s fine. I probably deserved it,” he acknowledged.

“Probably, but that’s all in the past and I should have left it there,” you concluded. You both stood in absolute silence until it became too much to bear. You decided you’d at least try to act natural, “So how have things been since the last time I saw you?”

Spencer looked at you with surprised eyes, but answered with, “They’ve been interesting. There always seems to be a new case. How about you?”

“Same. Just one after the other, but it’s nice knowing I’m helping people,” you added.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Come on, what else can you throw out there? “Uh, so, they call you ‘doctor’ now?”

He offered a small laugh. “Yeah, they do. When I started, you know, I was much younger than anyone else in the bureau-”

“Still are,” you interjected.

He continued, “-true, but one of my mentors, who’s gone now, told people to call me that and I guess it just stuck.”

“Well, it sounds nice.”

“Thanks. I hear you are doing pretty well yourself, getting national mentions and such,” he stated.

You raised your eyebrows, “You heard about that?” A year or so back you got recognized as the top rising talent in your field of work, but you didn’t think that news would make it to the other coast. Unless he was specifically looking for that information…

“Yeah, I did. The FBI likes to keep tabs on people that might cause them the most trouble in a case, you being one of them.”

“Seriously?” You were astonished. The FBI was keeping tabs on you? “Why?”

“Just in case they get tired of opposing you and would rather work with you,” he shrugged, “But you seem to be having fun opposing right now.”

You let a smile reach the surface at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“I’m a profiler. Plus, you’ve always had a thing for opposing the ‘overbearing’ power and sticking up for the little guy.”

That was a little too close to home. You knew he meant that in more ways than one, and you couldn’t help but think about that god-awful night when you were just two kids trying to take a walk in the moonlight. The night that solidified your friendship.

It happened so fast. All you did was walk away for a second to throw your trash away, but that was all it took for the boys to pounce. Spencer had been attending CalTech for three years, and you were there to pop into the chemistry class, which you conveniently had with Spencer. Those other 20 year olds hated you and Spencer for the sole reason that you were two nerdy 17 year olds that were making them look bad. They’d already gotten in a few good punches before you returned, but when you did, you were livid. They were holding Spencer up while taking turns at him. You worked quickly, setting your phone to record before stepping in between one of the boys and Spencer. You hadn’t intended on getting caught in the crossfire, but you did, landing yourself a pretty bruise on your cheek for the next two weeks. You yelled at them about how they were assaulting a minor and how you now had all of their faces on tape, along with some other legal shit. One of them smashed your phone and went for another punch, but you kicked him in the throat before he could get to you, putting him flat on his ass. He tapped out, and you later found out he’d gotten whiplash from how he landed on the ground. They ran off, and when you turned around, Spencer collapsed in your arms. He was littered with cuts, blood, and already developing bruises. You took him back to his dorm and cleaned him up, spending the night before figuring out how to recover the footage. Once you did, you showed it to the board members, effectively expelling the boys and bringing them up on charges for assault. They got convicted, and no one screwed with either of you again. That was the moment you really decided to become a lawyer.

“Yeah, I guess I have,” you murmured. Brayden was brought out in cuffs and shoved into the back of a squad car, which was your cue to get moving. You had a full case on your hands.

You turned to leave, but as you did, Spencer stopped you. “Hey, would you maybe want to catch up later?”

You didn’t remember him ever being so bold before, and were caught off guard by the question. You stumbled out, “Uh, what did you have in mind?”

“Just … coffee, maybe?”

“Sure,” you said, and immediately saw Spencer’s shoulders relax. “Do you still remember where Arnette’s is?”

“Of course,” he responded. That used to be your favorite go-to spot.

“Alright then. I should be done with this at around eight,” you said, hopping into your car before he could respond. The officer with Brayden had already sped away, and you needed to stay close behind.

The whole drive you kicked yourself for saying yes. You were getting over him. You had gotten over him. And you loved Jordan and couldn’t help feeling like this was somehow betraying him. Plus, why should you be meeting him to catch up? He hadn’t been interested in that for five years! I mean, you put everything into making your relationship work. Sure, you were realistic that it wouldn’t last, but he could have at least tried.

You had it planned out. You would keep in touch until you could go out and visit him during the summer for Fourth of July during your sophomore year of college. The next year, he’d visit you, and the one after that, you’d visit him and so on. But that was the problem. There was no ‘so on.’ You visited him for the second time and that was it. And pretty soon, you could barely get him to pick up the damn phone. The last thing you heard from him was that he was pretty busy starting out with the BAU, along with an unanswered text wondering how his first case went.

But, you already agreed, so you might as well just see what happens.

You threw on some nice, non-work clothes and drove to the little shop on the corner. God you felt like a teenager.

It was just before eight and Spencer was already there waiting for you. Of course he was.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that this was supposed to be two people who used to care about each other, and honestly still do, just catching up. Simply talking. About the present, no need to worry about the past.

“Hey, (y/n).” You always liked the way he said your name with welcoming confidence.

“Hey,” you replied. He opened the door for you and you shuffled in. With no surprise, you were the only two in there, and he went ahead and ordered for both of you, remembering what you wanted with ease. You gave him a bit of a confused look as you waited for your drinks.

“What?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable by your staring.

“Nothing, it’s just that you remember my order, that’s all.”

“I do have a really good memory,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but you also told me once that that only went for visuals, and your eidetic memory didn’t really work on audio,” you quipped.

“That’s true. I guess some things just stick. Plus, it’s not like you made it hard on me. You always ordered the same thing.”

You laughed a little, “I guess that’s true.”

You grabbed your drinks and left the hole-in-the-wall, autopilot kicking in, taking you both along the path that went around the park. Spencer sighed.

“Hm?” you questioned.

“Just, you know, thinking,” he said, brows furrowed.

“About what?”

“How we used to do this all the time. You’d finish your high school classes, drive over to CalTech for chemistry, and then afterward we’d stop by for coffee and a walk,” his voice sounded like he was in a dream, and he looked into the night air as if there was some answer or memory floating around out there. You guessed there was a memory floating around out here.

“Yeah those were crazy years,” you recalled. “I felt like I was constantly on the move and everything was happening all at once and I had all of this stuff I needed to get done. But this was always a nice place where I could clear my head and forget all of that.” That feeling was starting to return as you kept walking, the sticky air of California clinging to your skin.

“It was nice. I miss those days sometimes,” he said.

What is he getting at? “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You walked in silence for a while, but you could see Spencer’s posture tense up more with each step. There was something on his mind and he wasn’t telling you.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” he acted bewildered.

“What’s on your mind?” He tried to shrug it off and deny it, but you knew him better than that. It might have been a while, but some things, like he said, just stick. And the way his body acted when he was thinking was one of them. “Don’t even try that. I know when there is something bothering you, now out with it.”

“Who is it?” That was all he offered and it was your turn to be confused.

“Huh?”

“Who has the other one?” he said, voice a bit harsher than before, motioning to the gold ring around your finger.

“His name is Jordan.”

“Jordan, huh?”

“Yep.”

“What does he do?” Spencer inquired.

“He’s also a lawyer. We actually met in law school,” you answered somewhat hesitant. You still didn’t know what he was getting at, if anything.

“Oh. Nice.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” your attitude starting to flare up.

“Absolutely nothing. Just not what I thought,” he stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

“What did you think?” You were trying not to get offended by whatever he was implying, but you couldn’t help it. He asks me to catch up just to make passive aggressive criticisms?

“I don’t know. Not that, I guess.”

At this point, you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. “Well, you know, you could have changed that,” you replied in the same passive aggressive manner.

“What would you have wanted me to do?” his voice was raising, obviously picking up on what you were putting down.

“Uh, I don’t know, how about respond to one goddamned text?”

“I tried.”

“Not really. And then you just went dark,” you spat.

“You seemed to be fine with that. You moved on pretty quickly,” he hissed, not even bothering to look at you.

“Why do you think that is, genius? I visited you, and then you stopped answering my calls. You stopped responding to my texts. I basically never heard from you again, and then the next thing I know, your showing up on my fucking tv, in California for a case, and you don’t even reach out. You didn’t even ask to meet up anywhere, not even stop by to say hey. Nothing. You did nothing once your job swallowed you up whole. I know what that’s like and it’s hard, believe me, I’m a lawyer for Chrissake, but I found the time. Plus, for all I knew, you had already found someone else, so I wasn’t going to wait around for the guy who seemed to love me much less than I loved him.” By the end, you were yelling, and thanking the stars above you that no one was around to hear it.

“You’re right,” he whispered after a while.

You were stunned, and could only manage a small, “What?”

“You’re right,” he repeated. “I should have put in more effort. I don’t know, (y/n), I wish I had a better answer for you but I don’t. I was young, and stupid, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I let my insecurities get in the way of us, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that.”

“What?” It was seriously the only thing going through your mind, however, you were able to force out, “Insecurities?”

“Yeah. I was worried that because I was away, you were going to tire of me, that you weren’t going to want to stay in a relationship. I thought that maybe, by being ‘tied’ to me, so to speak, that I was holding you back, which we promised each other we would never do. We said that we would never get in the way of the other’s dream, and I wondered if maybe I was going to do that to you. I just … I had all of these doubts, so I panicked. I stopped responding. And I was so wrong to do that.”

Now that he’d said them, they sounded like some of the same doubts he expressed to you the night before he left.

“What time is your flight?”

“Seven, which means I have to be there by six, which means I have to be leaving here by four-thirty at the latest,” he recited. He had all of his stuff piled by the door, which was hardly anything at all. You were in his hotel room because his house was soon to be taken over by a young couple, since he’d be living in Massachusetts, and his mother was in a mental facility. You’d just come back from visiting her, which left Spencer in tears.

You ate dinner while playing chess, which he effectively beat you at. You were actually pretty good at it, but no match for his math-based brain. You snuggled into bed next to him, willing yourself to keep it together because the last thing you wanted to do was spend your last night with him an emotional wreck. He queued up a movie, but neither of you paid any attention to it. His arm was draped around your shoulders and yours were clasped around his waist.

Spencer’s hand lazily circled your back until it moved with purpose down to your thigh. He continued his lazy patterns when you looked up at him, a question in your eyes.

You’d been with Spencer for over a year, and recalled your first time. You were ready before he was, which came as no surprise, but that didn’t stop the nerves from racing through your head. But if you thought you were nervous, you had no idea what was going through Spencer’s head. He later told you that he was absolutely terrified because he didn’t want to do something wrong, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and he didn’t want you to think less of him because of his body style, and a million other things that he was scared about. That’s how you accidentally said the ‘L’ word. “Spencer Reid, I would never judge you and you could never scare me away. I love you and your body and your brain, and you are not going to do something wrong, not like I’d know because we are both new to this and are doing it together. Understand?”

He gave you a shy smile. “I do.”

Now though, it was very different. Comfortable, confident, safe.

“Can I have you?” he asked, “All of you, one last time?”

You leaned up to kiss him, and he sighed when you pulled away. You looked him straight in the eyes, “I’m all yours.”

And you were. You felt like you always had been and probably always would be, and could only hope that he felt a fraction of the same. Your bodies pushed and pulled in perfect unison, fitting together as if you were two pieces of a puzzle, specifically crafted for the other.

You returned to your curled up position beside him, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears silently flowed out of your eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself peel your arms away from him long enough to wipe them away. You attempted to sob without making a sound, knowing that if Spencer saw you crying, it would make him cry, and he couldn’t cry because it would make you cry more, splitting you right in half. It didn’t matter how quiet you were being about it, because when you looked up at Spencer, you saw the same silent tears glistening on his cheeks. It was only then that you pulled your hands from around him and brushed away his tears.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” you apologized. “This is supposed to be exciting. You’re going to the best school in the country to get your PhD.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, moving his hands up and down your arms, “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m making the right decision.”

This took you by surprise. He’d always seemed confident about this, passionate about furthering his education. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to complicate things for anyone. For my mother. For you.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” You knew it was unfair, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The only thing you wanted to say. You needed him, and it was sickening wondering if soon, he might not need you. He stared at you dumbfoundedly, so you quickly covered it up with, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You are about to start a whole new part of your life, and you should go, pursue your dreams with the best education this country can offer. I don’t wanna get in the way of that.”

You repositioned yourself back on his chest, and started to drift off to sleep when you felt him sigh. You lazily peered up at him, meeting his restless eyes. “Spence, you need to sleep.”

“I can sleep on the plane. I need this more,” he said, smiling at you. You tried to stay awake like you knew Spencer would, but to no avail. You did, however, wake up to him getting ready to leave. He kissed you goodbye, and you held yourself together until he’d walked out, the door shutting with a definite ‘click.’

All the air had been stripped from your lungs and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you’d never again without him by your side. You cried yourself back to sleep, willing this all to be one giant nightmare, but when you woke, he was gone. And you felt completely numb. So while you may have been two pieces of a puzzle, aiming to create the same beautiful picture, you no longer fit together.

You felt yourself starting to get flushed from constantly going in and out of anger then feeling bad and forgiving. It was exhausting, and probably part of the reason things didn’t work out between the two of you. That didn’t mean you loved him any less, though. He was, in fact, your first love, and you guess people were right about that stuff being more powerful and affecting you longer. Hell, you walked into the precinct for a total of three seconds before he was affecting you all over again!

You took a deep breath in before saying, “I guess we both made mistakes and wished we would have handled things differently.”

“What would you have handled differently?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“When I saw that you were in California for a case, instead of … doing what I did, I should have been the one who reached out. I could have just asked you then what was going through your mind and what was going on between us. Who knows how that might have changed things? But, I was petty,” you gave a cold laugh, “I guess I still am sometimes, huh?”

You had definitely been acting that way lately. You felt guilty and ashamed about it, but in that moment of anger four years ago, knowing that Spencer was out there ignoring you, you sent him a hurtful message and then blocked his number. Only a week or so prior, you’d met Jordan who was clearly hitting on you, and you were so firm about moving on that you asked him out. He eagerly agreed, and the rest was history. Or, at least, you thought was history.

Spencer shrugged and dodged the somewhat rhetorical question. “We can’t really dwell on that now.”

You knew he didn’t really mean that, considering he was the type of person who dwelled, but he was right. You were engaged to a great guy and soon to be married. This, Spencer, was something you were just going to have to come to terms with, something you realized you hadn’t come to terms with yet.

You’d been walking so absentmindedly next to him that you hardly noticed you were outside of a hotel. He stopped just outside the lobby entrance and turned to face you.

“Walk you to your room?” you offered. What the fuck did you just say? Why did you say that? You can’t say things like that. Stop it.

Spencer gave you that small, closed lip smile of his which immediately ended your inner scolding, and nodded, holding the door open for you. You walked up the stairs together in silence. When you reached his door, instead of getting out his card, he leaned his back up against the heavy wood.

“Alright, well, it was nice catching up, and I wish you safe travels in the morning,” you said, turning to leave. He quickly reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks, and you spun around to face him.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” Those words pierced through your ears, ringing all too familiar from when it was you who said them.

“Spence-” you started. And then his lips were on yours. Those sweet, soft lips. It had always been so natural between the two of you, and you felt his tongue bypass yours as you pushed further into the kiss. Then you remembered where, and when, you were, no longer that hopelessly devoted kid but an adult with a wonderful man waiting for you when you got home. You pulled away. “Spence-”

“I would have said yes, you know,” he confessed. The question must have been etched on your face, because he continued, “When you asked me that night, given the chance, I would have said yes.”

His words stung, and your whole body ached from rehashing old feelings, to igniting new ones, to the guilt of what just happened weighing on you so heavily you might just crumble beneath it. You murmured out, “Why didn’t you?”

“I thought you were right. I thought I was doing the right thing. Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, all the regrets I have, you, (y/n) (y/l/n), are my biggest one.” His honey brown eyes peered right into yours, like he was looking at something far greater than just your eyes, and repeated, “So right now, if I asked you to stay with me, would you?”

It was too much to handle. After all the time you’d spent wishing he was still yours, he finally could be, but you could no longer be his. Tears were streaming down your face as they once did, the first time you lost him, and you choked out, “I can’t.”

One More Night

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[magnhild]

A Happy Review (kind of) of Ikenfell

Having ADHD means that I have a lot of trouble getting into new media if I’m hyperfixating on something else. As any follower of mine is no doubt aware, my current one is RWBY, and has been for a while. But with the show’s mid-volume hiatus underway, I ended up left in a void with nothing to fill it.

Two days ago, I had a friend reccomened to me a little indie RPG called Ikenfell. I’d never heard of it, but I was told it has a great number of LGBT+ characters, options to make gameplay easier, content warnings, and music composed by the great  Aivi & Surasshu, who you might know as the composers of Steven Universe. This grabbed my interest, but I found myself sketpical that it could be that good, and that the representation, in particular, was largely exaggerated and probably just mild implication. 

Nevertheless, I started the game the next day, intending to play for an hour or so before putting it down again, warning my friend that I was unlikely to get too invested in it.

Almost exactly 12 hours later, I found myself watching the epilogue play out with misty eyes, having finished the game and having gotten deeply pulled into it.

This game was everything it was promised to me and so much more. Between the representation, the accessibility options, and the overall charm of the game, Ikenfell ended up being laregly enjoyable and something truly special; a hidden gem in the plethora of video games released in 2020.

The game follows Maritte Hildegaard, a non-magical teenage girl, on the search for her yes-magical sister Safina, a witch attending the school of Ikenfell. A basic premise on the surface, but the story itself has a lot of neat little twists and turns that all come together for a satisfying story worthy of being animated someday. It probably won’t be, but hey, I can’t dream, right?

To begin with, I didn’t find myself too fond of the battle system, not because I found it flawed, but simply because I personally struggle with video game battles and they can also cause me a great deal of pain due to my connective tissue disorder and chronic shoulder pain. I was getting way too frustrated, even agaisnt smaller enemies, and was ready to put the game down after yet another failure agaisnt the same single boss. Tied alongside the fact you cannot see your enemy’s HP, making strategixing more difficult, I was ready to say that I wasn’t a huge fan of the game.

That is, until I found out about instant victory, an option in the settings that allows you to be given the chance to instantly skip literally any battle in the game, with no negative conequences and all of the rewards. For more avoid gamers, it might be tempting to mark this as a flaw that makes the game ‘too easy’, but is very much optional, and anyone who wants the challenge can play without it if they wish. But for disabled people like me, who also get easily stressed, it was an absolute Godsend that allowed me to focus more on the story and characters, which was what I really cared about.

On the note of characters, the representaion mentioned earlier is certianly no exxageration, with just about every named character being explicily LGBT+ in a way that I’ve never seen before in officially published media. I’m not just talking wlw and mlm characters, though there were plenty. No, the characters aren’t only diverse in sexuality, but in gender as well. Of the six playable characters, three- an entire half- of them are nonbinary. Several human nonbinary characters. And it goes even further- only one of these characters uses they/them pronouns. Why is that good? Because not all nonbinary people do. And that’s something that is severely overlooked by those with binary genders. One of them uses he/him pronouns, and the other uses ze/zir pronouns. You read that right. A main character in a video game, in media at all, that uses neopronouns. Now, I am fully aware that neopronouns have been used in media before; my own set were coined by a book, in fact. But in all of these cases that I’m aware of, they are used exclusively for non-human characters; aliens, bringing an implcation that neopronouns are nonhuman. This case, as far as I’m aware, is the first case that they are used to reflect and represent real human beings, and it is absolutely incredible. The LGBT+ representation in this game is amazing, but there is something very special and signifigant about a black, human, adult character, using neopronouns.

Even better yet is that this is all in the game completely casually, with no fanfare, no dramatic coming-out plotlines, no treatment as if it is anything but normal. Even the one instance of a character accidentally misgender another comes with a quick apology and correction with no big deal. Better yet is that terms like ‘gay’ and ‘nonbinary’ are explicitly used in-text as well, rather than avoiding the use of them as many other instances of LGBT+ characters in media do.

Aside from individual LGBT+ characters, the game also boasts five LGBT+ couples over the course of the story, though one is only sen in flashbacks and another is only mentioned between scenes. Nevertheless, it’s easy to become invested in the slight romantic aspects of the story.

SPOILERS AHEAD

One of these romances is between Ibn Oxley and Bax Twiford, and it’s the first one we see hinted at in the game. During the stoy’s climax, Bax is fatally wounded and I felt a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, even tweeting an out-of-context ‘OH NO’ to confused and concerened followers. MLM couples in media are all-too-often doomed to fail, usually by way of having one half of the couple be killed off. I feared this would be the same case here, to the only MLM couple in the game, and resigned to it with a hevay heart.

Except, the game surprised me again, and saved Bax before he died, allowing for both characters to get their happy ending. In fact, all of the characters get at least somewhat of a happy ending, a refreshing detail for a sap like me. I was espeically pleased when I sat through the credits, praying for an epilogue that would confirm soemthing I was hoping for, being sure I wouldn’t get it, and then i got it. Every writing choice made felt like one of my own, albiet excuted better, with far more professionalism. It felt so utterly refreshing to have everything turn out the way I wanted it to.

Even decisons made outside of representaion satisified me, like Safina not being forgiven by Maritte after everything she’d done, including keeping Maritte’s entire existance from her friends. In many instances these days, it’s all-too-common for a character to do terrible things, only to be forgiven by everyone the moment they apologie, and it can be a bit frustrating if you’re someone who knows that nobody should ever feel obligated to forgive someone who hurt them, and that an apology is more than just saying ‘sorry’. It was yet another case of the story going exactly as I’d wanted it to.

END SPOILER WARNING

Ikenfell feels just like a fanfiction, and I mean that in the best possible way. Not because it’s exceedingly trope-y, or because it feels amature in any way, but because it doesn’t feel like something that was written for pleasing the (cishet and white) masses when it comes to its representation. The large majority of creators looking to publish their work will avoid going all-out with representation in fear of the classic ‘it’s not realistic’ critisism, with only fanfiction authors usually having the guts to make all of their characters LGBT+, because they’re writing for themselves and a small audience of people who enjoy the same things as them. Ikenfell has this same feel; it wasn’t created to be a huge, wildly popular, chart-topping game, it was created to be something that the people it represented could enjoy. It is the purest kind of video game, not one made for profit or attention, but simply because the creators wanted to create it. The fanfiction vibe also makes a lot of sense, considering the fact that was inspired by them- which may explain why I, laregly a fanfiction writer, agree with so much of its choices.

The game may not be everyone’s thing, but if you’re disabled, LGBT+, a POC, of even just someone who ejoys cute fantasy RPGs, I implore you to buy and play the game, because even my words can’t fully capture what an incredible game it is. There’s stuff I haven’t even mentioned, like the beuatiful music, the great visuals, and the many, many cats, so please, go and check it out for yourself.

Thank you for reading, and thank you to every single person who worked on Ikenfell for crafting such a lovely and inclusive game.

[amydancepants-peralta]

hiiii!!! i’m coming to our queen of smut to make a request: i was watching yippee kayak last night and i had this vision of jake going home and ~~~~~”warming” amy up after the polar plunge... i don’t think anyone has written this version of a post 3.10 fic and i just think you would be the best one so if you feel inspired by this i would love to read it!! 💕💕

ok so I really loved this idea and it took me forever but here goes!  rated NSFW for all of you playing at home, and can be found here if it’s easier ♥️

everything comes back to you 

Jake’s eyes squeeze shut as he follows Amy’s descent into his couch below, ignoring the scratchy crumbs of yesterday’s breakfast and sliding his fingers into her hair, deepening the kiss he’d initiated only seconds earlier.  Returning his heated embrace with an equal amount of fervour, Amy's nimble fingers ripple along the buttons of his flannel with the practised ease of someone who’d buttoned it only 15 hours earlier; impatiently shoving the fabric out of the way as it parts, and Jake lets out a sigh of satisfaction when it hits the floor with a soft thud.  

It has been close to two hours since he and Charles had finished their debrief (and taken down Flamethrower Gina - or FlameGrrl, if her new twitter handle was anything to go by); and after finding a quiet Amy waiting for him at their desks, the couple had made a beeline for Jake’s apartment, the unspoken need for some Thank God You’re Alive sex crackling between them on the drive home.  

Amy’s two jackets hadn’t lasted more than three steps inside Jake’s apartment, his own leather  discarded a mere second later; and in their newly horizontal position things were moving along pretty well - save for the minor detail that whenever he closes his eyes, Jake cannot seem to get the image of a confessed murderer pointing his gun directly at him out of his mind.  

None of this evening was playing out the way he’d imagined, kissing Amy goodbye earlier this morning from the comfort of her sofa when she left for an early start.  His first Christmas with a Serious Girlfriend in forever, Jake had put a lot of time and effort into selecting just the right gifts; and his plan for a sneaky early unwrapping of a couple of presents (followed, hopefully, by the unwrapping of Amy) had been waylaid by a most inconvenient - but incredibly dangerous - hostage situation in the middle of a department store.  

It was the stuff that only the best kind of Christmas movies are made of (even if he didn’t get to say the Cool Catchphrase), but now that he was home - now that they were home - Jake was beginning to realise just how close he’d come to losing it all.  

Initiating another kiss, Jake closes his eyes even tighter - tight enough to watch the tiny stars as they float by - and even though the plan to just keep kissing Ames until the bad thoughts go away had seemed solid; he eventually has to come up for air, tucking his head into the juncture of her neck and sighing as the scent of his girlfriend numbs the sharp teeth of unwanted memories.  

Amy’s voice is soft when she speaks, but he’d hear her in a hurricane, and the sound carries over tangled limbs before landing at their un-socked feet.  “I didn’t feel it.”

It’s an odd statement - and definitely not something that one expects to hear during a pre-sex makeout - and it prompts Jake to glance downwards at their still very covered bottom halves, returning to respond with an eloquent - “Huh?”

Her head tips back ever so slightly, just enough for Jake’s eyes to lock onto hers, and the seriousness of her look cuts him to the quick.  “My phone.  I didn’t feel it … the vibrations from your texts.  You know, through the jacket.”  Her fingernails scrape the edge of his hairline, and she shakes her head in frustration.  “So puffy.  I couldn’t feel anything, including the cold, which I guess is the point, but … I didn’t feel it.”

Jake nods, feeling his lips purse up.  There was definitely a point, between texts numbers four and seven, when he’d begun to question if Amy was ever going to answer.  But he’d kept texting, based purely on the way she looked at him that very morning, ruffling his hair when he’d woken up and bidding him goodbye with the kind of kiss that made his heart thump long after she’d gone.  He had hoped there would be a reason why, and the sincerity in her eyes now said it all. 

A coolness remains in the wake of her hands as they shift away, voice growing more determined as she continues.  “But, Jake … I need you to understand something.”  She digs her elbows into the couch for leverage, waiting as Jake scoots backwards to accommodate and shuffling up to a seated position; their makeout session taking a temporary pause.  “As soon as I realised, I came running.”

It’s a sorry without saying it, an apology for taking so long to respond to his barrage of texts, and the automatic response of it’s fine, babe bubbles up Jake’s throat.  There’s still a part of him, the same part that once came to work with multiple injuries and pretended everything was fine, that wanted to brush this whole evening away and act like everything was normal.  It was the Peralta way to compartmentalise and move on, but with his girlfriend of seven months (and partner for so much longer) sitting in front of him, suddenly Jake didn’t want to simply shrug it all away.  

His mouth feels dry, and he knows his voice has gone soft, but he answers before he can’t.  “I was really scared, Ames.  For a moment there, I - ” there are too many options for the end of the sentence, and all the fears jumble out from that corner of his mind he’d been pushing them into all evening.  His stomach twists, and he tries again.  “I really thought ..”

Moving closer still, Amy’s knees knock against Jake’s as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in for the kind of comforting hug he’d unknowingly craved.  She whispers I was scared too, the reality of what could have been washing over them for a moment, and Jake realises that this moment right here on the couch was what he’d be needing all evening.

It isn’t until their makeout has begun again - albeit of a slightly softer, reassuring variety - that Amy nestles closer to Jake, sliding her hands underneath his shirt; and it’s the almost freezing temperature of her palms that pull him out of his kissing Amy stupor. 

“Whoa!  Ames, your hands really are on a whole other level of cold.”

(Truth be told, the first time he’d noticed, they were still on the sidewalk outside Goodwin’s; kissing way more than he thought they would with their colleagues and superior officers all within viewing distance.  But he’d been a little distracted at the time, too caught up in the temporary high that came with the realisation that not only had he just lived through his very own Die Hard hostage experience - he, too, had a beautiful woman outside who was so glad he was okay, and honestly, those two things packed together really did make for a stellar - if short lived - moment of bliss.)

Pulling away, Amy inspects her palms as though checking for icicles before looking back at Jake.  “I’m telling you babe, I really might have hypothermia.”

“Wait … you actually did the polar bear swim?”

“Ugh.”  Resting back on her heels, Amy rolls her eyes in exasperation.  “Not exactly, no.  I tried!  But … I just couldn’t go through with it.  Holt and Rosa went in while I stayed on the beach like a chicken.”  Shrugging her shoulders, she continues.  “It wasn’t until I read all your messages and realised what was happening that …” 

The cogs slowly begin to turn in Jake’s brain.  “You had to …?”

“I ran into the ocean to get them.”

He blinks.  “You.  Amy Santiago; perpetual blanket stealer, and the only person who could land on the sun and still find it a little chilly, ran into the freezing Atlantic?”

She nods, her eyes wide and somber, and Jake’s heart squeezes in his chest.  “I can’t believe you did that.”

Her hands move to either side of his face, the contrast in temperatures suddenly feeling like nothing at all; freshly armed with the knowledge that the woman in front of him had run into the very thing she hated, just for him.  “I told you, Jake.  As soon as I knew.”  She leans in to press her lips against his, and Jake runs his hands along her wrists, giving Amy a contented smile when she pulls away.  “Bonus points to you for knowing it’s the Atlantic, by the way.” 

There are a thousand different responses running through Jake’s mind, all of them showing varying degrees of being the right answer for right now, but in the end the only thing that he manages to sputter out is a simple - “You’re amazing.”  

(Short, yet most definitely true.)

“You were in danger, babe.  Nothing else matters when it comes to that.”

A scarily familiar lump forms in Jake’s throat; the same one that had choked his voice up right before he’d confessed his feelings to his college girlfriend Camille - aka, the girl who broke up with him only a day later - and his stomach begins to twist incessantly.  

Amy had dropped everything to find him - he, Jake Peralta, a man who’s clean washing pile sits dangerously close to his dirty washing pile (i.e. both on the floor), who’s teeth hold more cavities than a third grader hopped up on pixie sticks, who’s punching well above his weight every single time he gets to hold her in his arms.  This intelligent, beautiful, courageous woman considered his safety to be more important than anything else, and the words I love you I love you I love you were growing dangerously close to his spilling out of his mouth.  

It wasn’t a new thing, to know that he loved her.  He practically vibrated it out of every pore of his body.  (Had a dream once, that he’d painted it on a billboard over the expressway.)  But it was one thing to know it - to know only a few days in that the two of them together was greater than anything he’d ever been a part of - and another thing altogether to actually say it out loud.  He’s been here before, and knows all too well how much it hurts when it goes unreciprocated (the danger, he knows, of wearing your heart on your sleeve: but there, it shall remain).  Rejection and heartache are not a new experience for Jake by a long shot - but just the thought of it coming from Amy was too frightening to contemplate.  

The urge to escape the seriousness, the voice inside his head screaming deflect! deflect! overpowers the rest of Jake (it’s strength in it’s familiarity), and he leans in to capture Amy’s lips in a kiss far more passionate than any they’d shared this evening.  Sighing against her mouth as she melts into his embrace, he uses the space between them as they part to mumble,  “I think it’s about time I warmed you up then, hmm?”

“Thought you’d never offer,”  Amy grins, that sly upturning of her lips that always seems to have a direct line to his penis; and Jake runs his hands along her back, holding her close to his chest as he lifts them both from the couch and deposits them onto his poorly made bed.  

She slips off his undershirt before another moment is wasted, getting to work on the fly of his jeans immediately while Jake leans in for another heated kiss, picking up on her sudden need for more action.  His hips flex against Amy’s familiar touch as her hand slides underneath, nudging the zipper of his jeans open with her palm and nursing his growing erection, his responding groan mixing amongst their tangling tongues.  

Wrapping one arm around her back, Jake feels the cool bare skin beneath Amy’s shirt, splaying his fingers out as he pulls her closer.  The blades of her shoulder graze against his fingertips as her hand tightens her grip around his cock, covering his length in the steady strokes that she knows turn him on, and truly - how she manages to make him feel this good every. single. time. has to be some kind of magic.  

His brow furrows slightly as his hands wander to the edge of her waist, noticing what feels like an unusual texture there - but, also aware that he may not be in the most ‘sound mind and body’ state as long as Amy keeps pumping her wrist like that, Jake persists with his path of kisses along his girlfriend’s clavicle.  It isn’t until his fingers return to her front, gripping the bottom of her shirt and sliding it upwards that he feels it again, and this time he pulls away from the love bite he had been nibbling into her neck.  “Wait.  Ames, is that …?”

Shifting his weight onto one side Jake lifts Amy’s shirt a little higher, letting out a halted laugh as a darker lycra fabric begins to appear.  “Are you wearing a bathing suit?”

“Oh God!” Amy’s hands brush past Jake’s bare chest, flying up to cover her face as she lets out a groan, his cock already mourning her departure.  “I kept thinking on the drive over that I needed to get changed before we got too distracted.  But then you kissed me in the hallway, and it all just …” shaking her head, she separates her fingers and peeks out at Jake through the gaps.  “I’m still in Polar Plunge mode.  Ugh, this is probably the least sexiest - ” her protest dies in it’s tracks, courtesy of the gentle pressing of Jake’s fingers against her lips.  

“Babe, no.  You’re sexy all the time, it’s actually insane.  You’d look sexy in a hessian sack, trust me.”  He replaces his fingers with his lips as her hands fall away, pressing just that little bit harder before pulling away to catch her line of sight.  “It just caught me by surprise, is all.”

She grins.  “Like your girlfriend had turned into a seal?”

“A sexy seal,” he nods.  “Hottest in all of New York.”

Her chest rumbles underneath him as she laughs - a loud, carefree laugh, easily one of his most favourite sounds - and Jake joins in, pressing one knee into the mattress as he rises slightly to slide Amy’s shirt away.  She looks up at him with the brightest of eyes as their giggles begin to fade and Jake digs his teeth into his lower lip, the urge to tell her just how much he loves her almost too strong to ignore.

(He considers it for a moment, telling her in this apartment that was always an okay place to sleep but now with Amy feels like a home … but he’s watched enough romantic movies in his time to know that pre or post sex first-time declarations rarely held value - and if there’s anybody that deserves better than that, it’s Amy Santiago.)

Instead, Jake takes his time peeling away her swimwear, pausing to kiss each of Amy’s breasts as the fabric rolls to her midriff, shuffling down the mattress as her hips lift to allow both her pants and the suit to slide away and join his on the floor.  Her legs slide against the sheets with a subtle impatience, a quiet sigh falling from her lips as she feels Jake’s hands skim along the outside of her thighs, and he takes his time forging a trail of kisses before reaching her centre.  

He begins with a special kind of kiss, sucking gently on her clit with every press of his lips, following it up with a rogue lick every second or third go as Amy’s fingers dig into his hair.  They tug as he dips lower, circling her entrance with the tip of his tongue, yanking in reprimand when he presses in then pulls away, all far too quickly for her liking. 

Amy’s skin feels perfect; so comfortably bare against his own as Jake makes his way back up her body, keeping one hand wrapped around her thigh as he leans in for another kiss, waiting until her lips are well and truly occupied before sliding one - then, two - fingers inside where she’s wanting him the most.  She writhes beneath him as he slowly works her up, stoking the flame just enough to push her closer to combustion, feeling the moisture build as her arousal grows with every kiss.    

Letting out a shuddered breath, Amy raises her hips to meet Jake’s touch, her yearning obvious - pushing his fingers away and using her free hand to wrap her fingers around his erection, enticing him closer as she twists her wrist with practised ease.  Ever willing to follow her lead, Jake shifts until the head of his cock is pressing against her centre, holding onto Amy’s gaze and entering slowly with one smooth stroke.  

She sighs in satisfaction as he pushes further in, blinking slowly as their pelvises push up against each other, and for a moment Jake pauses, too caught up in the moment to do anything other than stare.  Amy truly was everything he could have ever dreamed of - and by some amazing twist of fate, she’d chosen him over any other.  

He thinks of the heart-shaped necklace he bought for her, the same one that sits underneath the glittering tree in her living room, and how he knew it belonged on her from the moment he saw it in the store window.  How he’d debated on when to give it to her, knowing the connotation that came from an item of that shape, and how right it had felt to tuck it in with the other presents this morning before he’d left for work.  

Because it was true - she could have his heart, in whatever form it came, and wear it around her neck for all the world to see (even if it does sound slightly Game of Thrones-ish).  Jake Peralta was totally, completely, and unequivocally in love with Amy Santiago.  And even if, right now, he is totally, completely and unequivocally terrified of saying it out loud, he needed her to know just how much a life without her seemed impossible.  

He pulls out halfway, dipping his hip slightly as he thrusts back in, holding himself still as her walls pulse around him.  Somewhere along the way, tonight had become less about having sex because it’s been A Day and he has a sexy girlfriend, and more about making love with the woman he’s beyond afraid to lose - and it felt kind of perfect.  “You should know …” Jake swallows nervously, his mouth suddenly dry.  “I need you to know, Ames.  When he pointed the gun at me, there was only one thought running through my mind … and it was that I might not ever see you again.”

Smiling softly, Amy reaches out to rest a palm against Jake’s cheek, stroking the edge of his cheekbone with her thumb as her body shifts beneath him.  Meeting him halfway for a kiss, her hair splays out on the pillow below as she rests back down, looking up at Jake with a thousand unspoken words lingering between them.  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jake.  I can’t imagine ..”  Shaking her head, she pulls him back down for another kiss, tightening her legs around his waist and lifting her pelvis to meet Jake’s thrusts as they begin to move together.  

It’s safe to say that he and Amy have had a lot of sex since becoming Jake and Amy, and each time has been incredible - but there was something about tonight, and the way their bodies just slotted into each other like they’d finally found that perfect match, that made all of the nerves in Jake’s body push into Oh My God mode.  Between the kisses, the wandering hands, and the mingling sighs and moans; it doesn’t take long before his thrusts have sped up, temporarily lost in anything other than focusing on how amazing it feels to be inside Amy while her fingernails dig into his butt.  

She whispers his name, a warm breath against his shoulder as his face tucks into her neck, her legs beginning to shake as her orgasm climbs ever closer.  But Jake wants to show Amy, even if he can’t quite say it yet, just how in love he is - how far he would go for her, how every part of who he is now comes back to being loved by her - and when her hands slide up to the edge of his shoulders in a definite sign that she was moving closer to climax, he slows his thrusts down, desperate to savour the moment.  

He watches as Amy’s brow crinkles in protest, pushing her hips hard against his as her impending orgasm begins to slip away - but he knows that a little edging has never been unwelcome, and so he slows down a little more.  Still, her fingernails sting against his skin as she lets a huff, instigating a steady rhythm for them as Jake hovers above, and he leans down to take the edge off by scraping his teeth along the edge of her neck just the way she likes.  

He slips out of her a moment later, grinning at the groan of protest that falls unbidden from Amy’s mouth and leans in to plant a kiss against her lips before whispering ‘gotta keep you nice and warm, babe.’  Her neck cranes towards his as he pulls away, chasing more, and it’s a request Jake’s never going to deny so he returns to kiss her deeper, letting their tongues slide against each other for a little while as his hands wander further down.

Jake grips his own erection with a steady fist, rotating once or twice - just enough to keep him teetering on the edge - before sliding down the mattress, dotting kisses against Amy’s torso as he makes his intended path clear.  

Her thighs feel smooth against Jake’s palms as he traces the curves of her legs, gently nudging one leg higher until it’s resting against his shoulder.  Completely unable to resist, he sinks his teeth into her inner thigh, suckling just enough to know there’ll be a mark there tomorrow, soothing the ache with gentle kisses as Amy moans softly above him.  The press of her hand against the back of his head silently encourages Jake to move closer to where she wants him, and after digging his fingers into her hips he is only too happy to oblige.  

He takes a slow lick, pushing his tongue against her folds and sighing at the taste of them, the mixture of Amy and a little bit of his own pre-cum.  (The switch from condoms to an implanted birth control was recent, and - dare he say - glorious.)  He pushes forward for another sample, bending slightly so that the bridge of his nose presses against her clit, darting his tongue in and out of her centre as she writhes underneath his touch.  

The feeling of her fingers digging into his hair, and the tightening of her upper thighs against his neck, was the stuff that any great sexual fantasy could ever be constructed of - made all the better by that sweet moment of realisation that this was his life now.  He could do this to Amy now, and not be rudely interrupted by an alarm clock pulling him out of a dream.  He could feel her this way, know her body better than she knew it herself, and Jake didn’t need to escape a hostage situation on Christmas Eve to know that he truly is the luckiest man alive.  

Using his thumb to circle her clit, Jake increases the intensity of his movements as Amy thrashes underneath his touch, pushing her lower body off the mattress as it all become too much.  She calls out a mixture of Jake and babe to his apartment ceiling, too overcome with the way her body was riding the wave of pleasure to care about volume, and Jake stays in position, taking all she has to offer as slowly her grip around his body loosens.  

Panting in the comedown, it takes a moment or two before Amy can move properly, bending her elbows to raise herself up slightly and watch as Jake continues his gentle assault on her body.  “Holy fuck, Jake - that was ..”  her voice fades away, raising a hand and then dropping it just as quickly, flopping back down with a satisfied sigh.  He grins, taking one final lick before casting a tender bite just to the right of her mound, leaving the evidence of her arousal against her skin as he nuzzles into the curve of her hip.    

Grabbing an abandoned pillow, Jake rises and places it perpendicular to Amy’s pelvis; hovering over her still slightly shaking body and gently encouraging her to roll over, positioning the pillow until it lifts her hips in just the right way.  He covers her back with his own body as his cock slides back into home, the change in angles eliciting a moan from both of their mouths, and Jake’s teeth sink gently into Amy’s shoulder blade as he begins to pump his hips in perfectly fluid strokes.  

Amy’s left hand flails out to the mattress, perfectly manicured fingernails gripping onto Jake’s sheets as the two of them begin to move in sync - both of them immediately getting lost in the moment, in this position that was so much better than doggy style - because this way they could feel each other completely, could feel the nerves quivering underneath their skin as they raced closer towards the finish line.  

The feeling of Amy climaxing around his tongue only minutes before had made Jake’s cock harder than ever, and the sensation of her warm body surrounding him now was pushing him closer to losing it completely.  He mouths I love you in-between kisses and licks against her sweaty skin, reaching out to link their fingers together as he pushes harder, sliding his left hand between the pillow and thrumming a delicate pattern against Amy’s sensitive clit.  

“You feel so good Ames, oh god I’m going to come soon … you’re so amazing.”  His forehead presses between the middle of her shoulder blades, leaving the I want this forever part of his sentence unspoken as he lets out a stuttered moan. 

Her legs stretch wider apart, searching for that perfect angle as she moans a stretched out yesss, and Jake really increases his pace when she pauses, pushing her abdomen into the pillow and meeting every thrust with a series of gasping breaths.  

His name falls out of Amy’s mouth in a series of broken syllables as she climaxes, her entire body writhing and coaxing Jake’s own completion out of him as he buries his head into Amy’s neck and lets go completely, spilling inside her with an intensity he hasn’t felt in the longest time.  

Wrapping his arms around Amy’s middle as their heavy breaths begin to slow down, Jake pulls out, twisting to curl his body around Amy’s and nuzzle into her side.  Her still slightly shaking hand reaches back, caressing the base of his neck and humming in contentment, stretching her legs out against Jake’s as she moves.  “Well, Peralta .. I’d say you definitely warmed me up.”

He grins against her skin, peppering kisses along her upper arm as he speaks.  “You think it was worth running into the freezing water for?”

Amy’s hand falls away as she shuffles in his arms, twisting carefully within his embrace until they’re facing each other, pushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead as she nods.  “You’re worth doing anything for, Jake.”  Her palm, now entirely warm, caresses his cheek as she pulls him in for a kiss, leaving another against the tip of his nose as they part.  “You’re everything.  I hope you know that.”

Jake nods, a noice dying in his throat as he chooses to respond with another kiss before he can ruin the moment.  One day, some day soon, he would find a way to tell Amy how he felt about her - but for now, he needed to be here with the woman he loves, and feel her soft body in his arms as the exhaustion of the day finally begins to catch up with them.  

It’s completely domestic and entirely perfect how they ready themselves for bed; Amy sliding on a pair of Jake’s boxers as she returns from the bathroom, slipping underneath the covers and gravitating towards his warmth without hesitation.  There are whispered goodnights and gentle kisses, arms and legs intertwining as though they were always supposed to be, and a smile that refuses to leave Jake’s face as he begins to drift off to sleep.  

Let the movies have their action-packed explosions and damsels in distress - his reality kicked it’s butt, any day of the week.  There’s an incredibly intelligent, stupidly beautiful woman laying beside him - one that cares for him, worries about his safety, and occupies a little more of his heart with every passing day.  And truly, that’s greater than anything that any blockbuster could possibly bring to the table.

(Although, if he ever needed to, he would totally jump off the roof of a building.  But only to save the day, and clearly only for Amy.)  

(Okay, maybe a little for him as well … but mainly, the Amy thing.)

[shes-an-oddbird]

Merry Christmas to my Fitzsimmons Secret Santa giftee @springmagpies​  ironically started working on my Christmas at River’s End Mall fic a couple of weeks before I received your fantastic prompt: working at the mall during the holidays! It was a fun coincidence and it was nice to work on this as a stand alone fic that could exist in the same universe as that story. 

I also wanted to make a moodboard to go with it since I’m so inspired by yours! I hope you enjoy it!

The Good & The Bad Of Seasonal Jobs 

Summary:  Leopold Fitz hates his seasonal job demoing the poorly made gadgets on the top of everyone's Christmas lists. Jemma Simmons loves her seasonal job wrapping those gifts. Together they make a a perfect team, even if they haven't officially met yet. Until Jemma is presented with a task that dampens her Christmas spirit and her and Fitz team up to get it back.

His expertise is being wasted.

Fitz is convinced they’ll be by to revoke his credentials any moment now.

If he sells one more shotty piece of home gadgetry with the promise that it will improve their customers everyday lives he might as well tear up his doctorate degree.

But he’s still short the cash he needs to get home for the holiday so here he is. Standing in a crowded mall, demoing cheaply made drones, remote control cars and robotic animals. Couldn’t one of these manufacturers create a monkey instead of the typical dog and cat? Are opposable thumbs that much of a challenge?

He knows the morning rush is starting to settle when he can hear the slightest jingling coming from the gift wrap kiosk across from him. A noise that would normally put him on edge has become a bright spot in his day. It came from the silver bell worn by the gift wrapper, Jemma, who worked the kiosk. She kept the bell tied around her neck on a long blue ribbon and with every move she made it rattled a cheery sound that added to the festive atmosphere in the mall.

He wasn’t much for Christmas cheer himself. He wasn’t a complete grinch, despite what Hunter might say, but if all of his income from the lab didn’t go straight to student loans, rent and food he definitely wouldn’t have bothered with the seasonal work at all.  

Every time his spirits started to fall though, he’d glance over at Jemma to find her glancing back at him. No matter if it was irate customers or screaming children or an upset manager, she was close enough to hear and observe and would shoot him a supportive smile.

They had yet to actually speak to each other but they had found other ways to communicate. One of the most in demand drones of the season utilized a camera and messaging system. She had taken to writing notes on scraps of wrapping paper that he could read through the drone camera and he was able to send back messages to her.

He would love to talk to her in person but the more and more he learned about her from their notes the more and more nerve racking that prospect became. She was brilliant. A double PHD. She worked for a lab he interviewed at a while back but had ended up recruited for a project at another lab across town. He almost regrets taking the project now, the one she was in the middle of sounds fascinating and he thinks they’d make a good team.

But then again, that would involve talking directly to her.

Which would happen, eventually.

It’s early afternoon, kids not yet out of school but late enough that mall walkers and nannies with young ones were heading home. This was the time when they usually found a chance to “chat.” He readies the drone to fly it over to her station but stops when he sees she’s got a customer. A well-dressed man, expensive suit and a pair of matching jewelry boxes in his hands. He spends a moment talking to her, a charismatic smile on his face. She’s not impressed if he’s flirting. She nods curtly back at him as she takes the boxes and he leaves.

Fitz watches her shoulders sag and her demeanor change as she examines the boxes before setting them aside and turning to fetch some paper. Her bell jingles and she stops in her tracks. She removes the necklace and tosses it aside before returning to the task.

Fitz doesn’t know what it was the man said or did to ruin her day but after she’d done so much to improve his bad moods, he felt like he should do something. He quickly packs up the drone and waves to his manager that he’s going on his break.

****

Jemma couldn’t imagine a better holiday job.

When Daisy had told her she could probably get her the open gift wrapper position at the mall she had jumped at the opportunity. It wasn’t exactly science, although Daisy claimed she’d made an art out of it. Just because she liked her patterns to precisely line up and her ribbons to match, it wasn’t that special.

She does love the look in her customers eyes when they pick up their presents.

She also loves the light in the customers’ eyes when they hand her their gifts to be wrapped and she just knows they had found the perfect thing for their loved one. Sometimes the gifts would come along with a story, the hours they waited in line, the dozens of stores visited, the didn’t-plan-on-it-but-I-saw-it-and-thought-of-them. She loved that. It made her want to wrap each gift with just as much love and care.

She thinks that might also be why she maintains her Christmas cheer while Fitz, who works at the shop across from her station, is so grumpy all the time. Poor Fitz. He gets the customers before she does. When they are frustrated from having been on their feet all day with the end not in sight. Their kids tugging and pulling and screaming and begging for this and that. And a manger breathing down his neck, pushing him to sell drones that she knows he thinks are poor quality and will inevitably break.

He’s an engineer, she found out one day when he was messaging her about the poor controls on the drone after apologizing three or four times for nearly hitting her with it.

The day is starting to quiet down for the afternoon lull. She’s caught up on all of her work and is gathering up scraps to write her notes to Fitz on when there is a tap on the wooden counter. She looks up to see a tall well-dressed man waiting for assistance. He’s got just two matching boxes in his hands so she thinks she can knock them out quickly and still have plenty of time to chat with Fitz before the afterschool rush hits.

“Yes, how can I help you today.”

He grins down at her with a charming smile and an unconvincing look of innocence in his eyes.

“Yes, you certainly can, I’ve got a sort of special task.” He places the identical jewelry boxes down between them. “You see this one here, is for my wife,” he slides the first box forward, “and this one,” he places his hand on the other box, “this one if for, well not my wife.” Jemma narrows her eyes in confusion, “so you understand it’s important not to mix them up right?”

Then it hits her and her stomach fills with dread. She looks at the boxes again. They’re branded on the side with the logo of the expensive jewelry shop down at the other end of the mall. “May I?” She asks, reaching out for them. She opens the first to reveal a pretty gold bracelet with a woman’s name engraved in cursive and three sparkling charms. She opens the second box to find a second bracelet, exactly the same except for the name. “Um, they’re lovely.”

“So we don’t have a problem here?” He asks.

Did they? Could she refuse service to this guy because he was cheating on his wife and possibly misleading some other poor woman? Its certainly what she’d like to do.

“No, I suppose not.”

“Perfect, I’ll be back for them this evening, dinner with the girlfriend first, then dinner with the wife.” He taps the counter again. “Do them up real nice for me.”

Jemma nods and collects the boxes. She moves them to the back worktable and starts to select a wrapping paper when the bell on her necklace jingles and she stops. Her bell was tradition. She wore it all through the holiday season thinking the gentle sound was a pleasant way to spread holiday cheer. But now, now it was like it was mocking her.

She takes the bell, pulls the ribbon over her head and tosses it aside.

Maybe it’s a side effect of her frustration or maybe it’s her desire to give the woman being two-timed something individually beautiful; whichever it is she wraps the two bracelets exquisitely. The paper is elegant, the ribbon satin and she even takes the time to add little decorations like pine bristles and bells. She carefully inscribes the cards for the top and gently tucks them under the ribbons before placing them with the rest of the gifts ready for pick up.

It’s exhausting. She has an overwhelming desire to close-up for the day or call out early so that she doesn’t have to be here when he comes back for them. Fitz isn’t even at his usual post, ready to make her laugh.

Someone clears their throat behind her and she spins around on her stool. Fitz is standing at the front counter, two to-go cups in his hands. She’s unsure how to proceed for a moment. Her and Fitz hadn’t actually spoken in person since they started their seasonal worker comradery.

“Hi.”

“Hey.” He shifts back and forth unsure what to say either.

“Thirsty?” She asks, curious about the two cups. Maybe one for now and one for later?

“Oh, no, um one is for you, I hope hot chocolate is okay.” She feels a smile fight its way through her gloom. She can’t help it, hearing his voice for the first time is thrilling. He’s Scottish. Which she had learned from their messages, he was trying to earn money for the ticket home, but it still threw her off just a bit.

“Thanks, but why?” Why today, she really wants to ask.

“I don’t know, you’re always so positive and then that guy came by earlier and you looked upset, I just thought this might cheer you up.”

“Oh, thank you.” She except the cup and the warmth spreads through her chilly hands. She takes a sip and the warmth runs through the rest of her. She savors it for a moment then cringes. “Was is that obvious, that I was upset I mean, do you think he noticed?”

“I doubt it, seemed a bit self-absorbed to me.”

“He’s horrible, bought his wife and his girlfriend the same bracelet for Christmas and didn’t want me to mix them up.” She gestures to where the boxes sit on the very top of the pile.

Fitz face scrunches up in disgust. “What a wanker – sorry.”

She tries not to laugh. “Its okay, he really is, would you like to sit down, I’ve got a second stool back here.”

“Sure, I’ve got a little time.” Jemma excitedly sets aside her beverage and flips up the countertop so he can join her. They settle onto the stools and he swivels his back and forth nervously. “Its strange talkin’ to you in person.”

“Not bad strange, I hope.”

“No, no definitely not bad.”

She ends up asking him about how his work project is coming along and he tells her about the snags they've hit but that its really coming along. He thinks they could use a good biotech person to which she has to decline, being in the middle of her own project. Their conversation slows and Fitz chugs the last bit of hot chocolate before looking for a bin.

"Its under there." She points to the trash can next to the stacks of gifts. Fitz tosses the cup and examines the mountain of presents.

“So why not just switch the cards on these?” He asks as he grabs the bracelet boxes off the pile and places them in front of him.

Jemma frowns. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Fitz asks as he traces the cards with his finger. “Its not like the guy doesn’t deserve whatever would come of it.”

“Well yes he would but it’s my job, I can’t just let my personal feelings effect how I do things, besides he could take it out on the mall if he wanted to, May shouldn’t have to deal with that.” She reasons.

“I think May would on your side.”

“I still can’t Fitz.” She insists as he slides free the tags.

“Fine.” He slips the cards back onto their respective boxes. “Still want to get back at him for ruining your day.”

“Fitz I promise, today is turning out to be pretty great, here – “ Jemma picks up her discarded silver bell necklace and carefully loops it around Fitz’s neck. Her fingers graze his neck, just above the collar of his work polo and she draws them back quickly.  

“What um, what’s this for?” He asks reaches for the bell.

“It’s for spreading Christmas cheer, I think you’re doing a better job of that right now than I am.”

****

Fitz promises Jemma he’ll return her bell at the end of the day. They’re both working open to close and by nightfall the mall is bustling. Friday nights are always busy, usually with teenagers but now with everyone shopping for Christmas its wall to wall people. He’s out demoing drones again. They draw the biggest crowd into the store and the manager had convinced May to let them project the camera’s video feed on to the big screen downstairs at the mall’s Christmas set up.

It keeps him busy. Trying to find interesting things to focus in on. He does enjoy the opportunity to stray farther and farther from the shop. From the balcony he can swoop the drone down to the kids waiting in line for Santa. They wave excitedly and screech with joy when they see their faces up on the screen.

As he retreats the drone back to him there is an audible ‘aww’ of disappointment but if it gets too far away it’ll loose connection and he’ll have to go fetch it when it crash lands. As it comes back up over the railing he does a fancy little spin hoping Jemma is watching. The bit of trick flying always earns him a smile and an eyeroll but when he looks over he sees she busy.

The man from earlier is back to collect his packages. He wishes Jemma would have swapped the cards on them or that he had just done it for her. He knows he shouldn’t but he swings the drone around anyways, he’s a good distance from the guy but its enough to startle him when it wizzes past his head.

“Watch it with that thing!” He snaps.

“Sorry, shotty controls.” He apologizes and holds up the remote guiltily. Still scowling the man take just one of his packages and leaves in a huff.

“Fitz, that was dangerous.” She chides but doesn’t sound as cross as he suspects she could be about it.

“I wasn’t gonna hit him.” He lands the drone on Jemma’s workstation. She’s fiddling with the bow on the man’s other gift. “Why didn’t he take that one?”

“Dinner with his girlfriend, didn’t want to be caught with it.”

Fitz rolls his eyes before returning to the store.

Their long day continues on and the crowds slowly start to dwindle. There are a few stragglers getting in last minute purchases but most of the patrons are either waiting on restaurant reservations or letting out from the evening’s first seatings.

Fitz has just finished charging up the camera drone before locking it up for the night when Jemma rushes into the store.

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore I have to do something or say something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That guy, that horrible, horrible man just kissed his girlfriend goodbye and marched right over here to get the bracelet for his wife who is waiting for him at the restaurant literally around the corner and I just can’t take it, he’s so arrogant and and awful and – “

“Okay, okay, calm down.” He places his hands on her shoulders gently hoping to sooth her frantic motions. “I thought your hands were tied, that you could do anything.”

“They are,” she stresses, “but it’s so unfair Fitz.”

“Okay well,” Fitz doesn’t know how to help in a way that doesn’t get them involved. He could march right up to the guy and confront him but he suspects that will end very badly. If there was away for them all to figure it out on their own maybe with just a push on their side.

“You said you saw the girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“You think she’s still here?”

“Maybe, I saw her head downstairs, I assumed that she was leaving.” Fitz takes Jemma’s hand and rushes her over to the balcony. Her eyes scan the small crowd below. In a small seating area by the North Pole set up a woman has set down her things on an armchair and is pulling on her gloves, Fitz sees the shimmer of a bracelet on her wrist. “That’s her.”

“Okay, go try to keep her there.”

“But I can’t tell her, I can’t just delivery that sort of news she may not even believe me.” Fitz is already shaking his head at her protests.

“That’s the thing about Christmas isn’t it, adults don’t believe in Christmas spirit and Santa and all that because for them seeing is believing,” Fitz rushes back into the shop and grabs up the camera drone. “Let’s give them something to see.”

****

“Excuse me, Ma’am, excuse me.” Jemma races up to the pretty blonde woman who has just finished pulling on her coat and scarf. The woman looks at her startled.

“Yes, can I help you?”

Jemma froze. She didn’t want to be the one to pass along such horrible news. But she only needs to buy Fitz some time. “I, I – I’m sorry you don’t know me, my name is Jemma Simmons, I work upstairs at the gift wrap station, I actually wrapped that lovely bracelet you’ve got there.” She says, pointing to the piece of jewelry the woman is trying to free from her coat sleeve.

The woman smiles. “You did an incredible job, my boyfriend wanted to claim it was his own work, but I knew he could never manage anything like that, he can be such a slob.”

“Among other things.” Jemma mutters quietly but not enough that the woman misses it. Her eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Is there a problem?”

“Um, no, well yes you see – “

“Aww, check out the big screen.” Someone calls and both women turn to the large television. Jemma recognizes the feed from the drone immediately. The camera is trailing along a line of guests waiting to be seated at the restaurant upstairs. They wave cheerfully at the camera which comes to a stop on the man and his wife as he gifts her the bracelet and she excitedly rips open the package and throws herself towards him in gratitude.

Jemma worriedly turns to the woman who has lowered her attention from the screen back to the bracelet. One identical to the one on the screen. For a moment she looks terribly heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry, I feel like I’ve just ruined your holiday.” Jemma’s not even sure she hears her. She’s about to ask if she’s alright but then a look of determination crosses her face and she looks up at her with a smile.

“Thank you, um, you set this up?” She gestures to the screen.

Jemma nods cautiously.

“Prefect, can you make the feed go away, there are children here and they really don’t to see what’s about to happen to him.”

Jemma breathes a sigh of relief. “Consider it done.”

By the time she texts Fitz and returns to her kiosk he is already there looking rather pleased with himself. “You’re not even going to ask if it worked first?”

“Didn’t have too, heard the woman coming when I was clearing out of there.”

“Oh dear, I hope it doesn’t get out of hand, I still feel awful.” She says as she leans against the counter next to him.

Fitz nudged her shoulder with his. “Jemma they were being two-timed, if it was you you would have wanted to know right?”

“Yeah I guess so.”

“Then let it go, please, because I need you to go back to being the cheerful one, it’s too much work for me.” Jemma laughs and nudges his shoulder back. He slips the bell off from around his neck and carefully drapes it back around hers. She looks up at him, her whole body feeling jittery and her eyes land on his. She thinks, and blushes at the thought, that she would kill for a bit of mistletoe right now.

She aims for his cheek instead. Landing a thank you kiss on his scruffy jaw and watching happily as he turns a cute shade of pink.

“Um – “ He stutters out.

“Excuse me.” Jemma and Fitz step apart quickly. Standing a few feet away are the blonde woman from downstairs and a second woman who looks elegantly dressed and perhaps a little frazzled. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt, I was told I might owe you both a thank you?”

“Oh no, it was nothing – “

Fitz cuts her off. “No please thank her, she’s convinced she’s ruined your Christmases.”

“Well, its certainly taken a turn, but for the best in the long run.” The second woman says. She looks between the pair of them. “Actually, as a thank you, would you two like our reservations, someone should have a romantic date night.”

Jemma blushes and Fitz clears his throat. “Oh we’re not together and we should really be working actually –“

“Yes working, right.” Fitz scoops up the drone and hurries off.

Jemma watches him go before turning back to her company. “Thank you, that was very generous of you to offer.”

“Of course.” She says. “And please, don’t worry over this.”

“Yes, its our problem and its being delt with,” the blonde woman agrees. “Should have known something was up, all the time we were together, and he never once looked at me the way that man there looks at you.”

Jemma doesn’t know what to say in response. She looks back at Fitz who glances up at her at the same time and sends her a boyish smile.

“Have a good night Jemma, you’ve given us a lot to think about, maybe we’ve given you something to think about as well.” The women leave and Jemma is left standing at her gift wrapping kiosk, fiddling with the silver bell around her neck.

[inkedtae]

into the meadows ⇾ pjm. [F]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ faery!jimin x reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ s2f2l, romance, fluff, studio ghibli inspired, pg

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  at seven, you heard a sweet voice lure you into the meadows. the memory is so distant, you’ve always thought it was a dream. twenty years later, you realize how wrong you were. 

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 2k

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ brief implied mention of abuse (not explicit / mentioned in passing), swearing

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ order up, @dylanxmin​! it’s best to take this in lil sips.

◐ beta’d by ⇾ @kitsutaes​

◐ le playlist 

◖collab. for @bangtan-dreamland​’s drinks and drabbles event. find original request here.◗

Nana is not an early riser, nor is she a night owl. You’ve gotten used to her midday naps and early turn-ins since you first began visiting every spring when you were seven. At that time, your mother would stay with you and help Nana around the house. Lately, you’ve been visiting alone and extending your stay to make sure Nana has everything she needs before you return to your college life of stress and finals. 

Shuffling about in the kitchen, you combine and mix Nana’s lemon honeysuckle pound cake recipe.You remember having it every morning when you came here as a kid. She’d wake extra early to prepare it for you and place three slices on your plate, despite your mother’s protests. You couldn’t eat all three slices, but always appreciated Nana’s tendency to want to make sure you leave her house ten pounds heavier. 

After wiping your flour coated hands on your pink apron, you grab a tiny blue bowl and make your way out through the backdoor. Little Mimi, Nana’s puppy, follows behind you; he’s always scuffling around your ankles, whining for little treats he knows he can’t have too much of. You hear his little collar jaggle as you enter Nana’s garden and begin picking honeysuckle petals. Once you have a good amount for the syrup, you grab a couple of lemons as well. 

A familiar melody greets you as you open the garden gate. Mimi’s already on his way inside, hopping through the pet flap at the bottom of the door. Without his collar’s irregular jiggle of metal on metal, you’re left alone with the angelic voice as company. The tune twirls around you, filling your chest with a familiar sense of comfort and warmth. 

Placing the lemons into the bowl, you rest the dish on the edge of the wooden gate. Perhaps following a mysteriously familiar voice over the hills and into the meadows is not your sharpest idea, however, you can’t shake this sense of deja vu. The rhythm of the song, the pitch of the voice all sound too familiar to ignore. As you further distance between you and Nana’s house, you wonder if the voice knows you can hear them. 

You climb up the last hill, the rising sun bleeds it’s peachy rays into the sky. The sight is entrancing, especially when paired with the enchanting voice. Rushing down the side with a shout and giggling, you almost feel like a seven year old all over again. The voice only continues it’s melody, drawing you into a meadow you’ve only thought you’ve seen in your dreams. The bushes of spirea flowers, and rivers of lavender with little shores of roses and tulips, you can almost definitely pin this moment to a dream you had when you were seven. 

It was also the peak of dawn when you entered a meadow exactly as the one before you. A little boy, maybe only a few years older than you, sat on a moss covered tree stump, resting his cheeks in his small hands. Blonde hair, brown eyes, pouty lips, the boy sighed and sang a similar tune to the one you hear now. He looked upset, gazing at his feet but all you could think was where are his shoes? 

Exhibiting the innocence of a child, you asked the boy if he was sad because he lost his shoes. His eyes widened when he saw you and he sat up straight in his seat. His lips all but trembled as you tilted your head at him. Thinking he was simply shy, you took off your shoes and placed them in front of him. They were all too small to fit him, but you were adamant that he at least try them one. As he tried to shove his feet into the small red shoes, your mother’s voice cut through the meadow. That’s all you could remember of the dream before waking up on Nana’s couch with your mother muttering under her breath and your Nana approaching you with more slices of honeysuckle cake. 

Those red shoes dangle from a cherry blossom branch now, rapturing your heart as the realization that whatever vivid dream you thought you had, might not have been a dream at all. The wind blows through the loose strands of your pinned up hair and the skirt of your white day dress. You take a step closer, but ultimately jump back the moment you hear a quiet hiss. Looking down, you spot a white, glossy snake rolled up in the tall grass of the meadow. It hisses at you before slithering further towards the cherry blossom tree behind that tree stump you found that little boy sitting on all those years ago. 

White snakes, scales that glossy, are the omen, signaling the presence of a nearby faery. Nana told you all about faeries when you visited, creating a web of worlds in which faeries and humans once co-existed. Usually each tale ended with two different versions, the one the humans tell themselves is the truth, and what really happened. The human’s tale usually focused on the faeries’ power being too toxic and harmful and thus, safety precautions needed to be taken. They believed the faeries needed to be “exterminated.” 

The truth, however, lies in the fact that humans have a fickle tendency to take advantage of faery magic, capturing the innocent people to further their bidding under harsh and inhumane conditions. After a revolution, faeries secured the right to live a life separate from the humans without the threat of being hunted or killed. The magical beings have morphed into a myth now, and if it hadn’t been for Nana’s tales and omens, you would’ve believed it to be as such as well. 

The voice, you sudden realize, has ceased. You aren’t sure when or how it stopped, but just that it did. Now, surrounded by the meadow and the swirling breeze of the early spring wind, you notice you’ve been watched this entire time.

Stand atop the tree stump, a man, blonde hair, brown eyes, pouty lips, stares down at you. He cocks a brow as your eyes meet and you need to swallow your scream as his crystal wings flutter when he jumps off the stump. 

“Little red,” he says as a means of greeting. 

You feel your face with the back of our hand, and noticing that from the heat on your cheeks alone, that you must be a little red. 

“No, no,” he chuckles, before pointing to the shoes. “You gave me those, right? They’re little and red.”

A nickname. He has a nickname for you. All notions that whatever happened twenty years ago was a dream have disappeared. The boy, now matured, was- is real. His wings, the sparkle in his eyes, and the entrancing aroma of lilacs and pomegranate all point to the conclusion that he’s not merely a man, but a faery. 

“It’s you,” you whisper, taking a step towards him. “You’re the voice?”

“The voice? I give you Little Red and you give me The Voice?”

The smirk on his face lets you know he’s only teasing, but you can’t deny that he does have a point. His name for you is cute and personalized, a detail you greatly appreciate. Fighting off a smile, you mutter an apology and scan his frame for a nickname that encompasses him in your eyes. 

“Pretty,” you blurt. 

“Huh?”

“Princy,” you quickly correct. When he furrows his brows, you explain, “You just remind me of a prince.”

He smirks, all confusion in his face shifting to an expression of smug grace. “I see,” he hums. Scanning your frame, he raises his brows and says, “oh, did I take you away from a task?”

You shake your head to answer his question, words caught in your throat that the realization that he intentionally sought you out this time. You’re not quite sure what he wants, but the look in his eyes reassures you that it’s nothing to be afraid of. “What’s your name, Princy?”

“Isn’t Princy good enough?”

You pause. “I’m (Y/N),” you smile, ignoring his question. 

“Little Red suits you better.”

He makes his way over to you, wings twitching as he nears. You stay still, reflecting that same look of reassurance in your eyes to let him know you’re not a threat. He must believe that you have no intentions to harm him. He did seek you out to begin with, luring you to the same place you met all those years ago. 

“You know what I am.” A statement of fact, not a question. He seems surprised by it though, as if he was prepared to explain himself. “Here for magic?”

You furrow your brows. “Here for you.” You know exactly how it sounds. And, though you’re firm on your stance, you can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “Didn’t you call?”

“Why would you answer-”

“If you’re so suspicious of me, Princy, then why did you call me?”

He gulps. His eyes dance around your frame, as if registering something around it. “I thought your innocence had something to do with age,” he replies. “But, it seems to be your usual sentiment.” 

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that but, based on Nana’s tales, you can somewhat make out a meaning. Choosing to ignore his observation, you say, “nice wings.” 

“Want them?” You know he’s teasing, but you can’t ignore the dark bitterness behind his humor. 

“I’m happy with what I have now.”

“That’s because you don’t know what you’re missing.”

You smirk. “Maybe,” you shrug. “Or maybe I’m not missing anything at all. Maybe you are.”

All hints of cockiness have left his face, only the image of pure grace staring back at you. Both barefoot, you stand within half an arms length reach of each other. Humming his tune back at him, slight off key and beat, you smile up at him. 

A little smile plays on his face, right eye twitching as you hit a particularly pitchy note. Placing a hand over your mouth, he whispers, “never again.”

You laugh against his hand before gently nudging it off you. “How will I be able to call you then?” 

“What would you need me for?” he chuckles. His usual hints of suspicion and defense do not accompany his question. He asks more out of confusion than doubt. 

“Well, what’d you need me for now?” 

He shrugs. “Reassurance.”

“Of..?”

“Trust.”

He does not hesitate in his answer, intensely holding your gaze. Your heart murmurs, hitching your breath at the word, the implications that follow it and the way he looks at you. 

Swallowing thickly, you ask just above a whisper, “what will I do when I need the same?”

His hands dig into his pocket after a moment of silence. Pulling out a little copper dragonfly pendant, he cups it close to his lips and blows over it. The copper turns to glass, lined with gold. He brings the pendant to your lips, nodding at you to do the same. Blowing over the pendant, the clear glass reflects a rainbow between the gold lines. 

“Give it a kiss when you need a friend,” he smiles. Glancing behind you, he sighs. “Nana’s waking; you better get back. See you around, Little Red.” He licks his lips, backpedaling towards the cherry blossom tree before his wings snap into action and he flies out of sight. 

Twirling the rainbow dragonfly pendant in your hands, you catch a glimpse of a little Princy flying between through the meadow. You press the glass token to your heart with a little smile and make your way back to Nana’s. 

Princy’s quiet tune accompanies you, filling your heart with trust. And as his tune fades, you clutch on the pendant and silently wish for the day you’d get lost with him and the meadows he calls you into. 

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[aquilamage]

New fic dropping time!!!! So, there's german in this fic, which I will be putting translations for at the end. I only have very very rudimentary German knowledge and some research, so if I've gotten something wrong let me know. Also, I decided to lean more into my nonbinary Klavier headcanon and experiment with he/they pronouns for Klavier throughout the narrative! Also also big shoutout to @unnecessarygayfeelings for the conversation that inspired basically the whole framework of this and then being so encouraging with me on writing it ^-^

When Klavier finds themself developing feelings for his former classmate turned recent coworker, they attempt to conceal it behind a language barrier. A plan which, due to some major miscalculations, explodes spectacularly in his face.

Klavier paced the area of their office, fingers snapping at their side with the swaying of their arm. His music was turned up, the kind of loud where he could feel the beat in his body, and yet still not enough to drown out his extraneous thoughts as he tried to concentrate. There were still two days before this robbery case went to trial, but that only meant they had no excuses not to have everything perfekt.

On a dime, he spun around, pointing dramatically at the evidence displayed on his monitors. Of course! There were only a couple of footprints outside the shop, and none of them were the owner’s, which meant……

Well, they weren’t sure.

Sighing, they leaned their elbow against the window. As he gazed out it, he noticed a smudge on the glass, not too high for him to reach, but taller than he’d expect to casually put his hand or forehead. He frowned. Where had that come from? There was a cloth for cleaning that somewhere around here – technically someone came in to clean the prosecutor’s offices, but the one time it had been done for him, their reorganization had sent him into a panic when he couldn’t find what he needed, so now he took care of it himself.

Klavier was in the middle of rearranging their guitar cabinet when they paused, and blinked. What was he doing? He’d realized the display case could look better when he’d walked over to put a stack of papers in his file cabinet, which he’d gathered up after doing something…with his chair? Which they’d only gotten to sometime in looking for that cleaning cloth… They glanced over at the monitors.

Right, the case.

With a groan, he ran a hand up his face, bunching his bangs up into his hair. Coffee. They needed caffeine, and maybe a snack.

The office break room wasn’t exactly his first choice for somewhere to get a drink, considering they only had a half-decent coffee machine, sugar, and a few flavors of creamer, while Klavier’s usual orders were of the sort that ended up sounding like some obscure secret code. But despite the initial hubbub about their leaving mid-tour to return to the legal world dying down, they couldn’t bank on going out without running into at least a small group of fans, and lunch was still a ways off. This way he could go about his business and get back to the office unbothered.

Or at least, less bothered. As he approached, he could hear running water, and faintly some kind of voice. He walked in without pause. So far, none of his coworkers had given him trouble, and he wasn’t about to be intimidated by the potential of it now.

Still, it was a pleasant surprise when they found Sebastian at the counter, filling up the electric kettle. “Schatzi!” they called, “how are you?”

He turned, the tiny frown of puzzlement quickly morphing into a smile. “Klavier, hi! Making tea,” he said, holding up the kettle. “Oh! Do you want some?”

Ach, he was so cute. “Nein, danke. I am here to tackle this beast.” Gently, he slapped the top of the coffee machine. The puff of laughter he received in response made him feel almost dizzy (which they might have blamed on needing to eat had they not already accepted the existence of their feelings).

Even as he began setting up his drink, Klavier couldn’t help but sneak glances over at his former classmate. At Themis, their relationship had been…complicated, although the Sebastian of then probably wouldn’t have described it as such. The last time they’d seen each other had been pre-graduation, and as he embarked on his musical career, Klavier had been perfectly willing to leave even the memory of his old acquaintance behind. Hop forward seven years, though, and…

Some things about Sebastian hadn’t changed. He still had trouble with words, and when he listened to music (and sometimes otherwise), he conducted along with it. This soft, airy piece felt constricted being projected from a mere phone speaker, but the gentle precise looping motions of his hand coaxed it back into life, and something more than that.

Despite the consistencies, much more of Sebastian had changed than hadn’t. When Klavier had started back at the office, Sebastian had been one of the first prosecutors they’d met. Sebastian approached them on his own and introduced himself – whether he was aiming for a fresh start or thought Klavier had forgotten him, they didn’t know. His confidence in his actions was less in volume than Klavier was used to, but solid, and that had piqued their curiosity from the beginning.

At the end of their little talk, he’d glanced up and down the hall and said “I’m sorry about your brother.” It was soft and sad and the only time he brought the subject up. They were still sorting out their feelings about that, although after some research they had an idea of where he was coming from. From that angle, at least, they could appreciate the sentiment.

Sebastian fumbled over words now instead of getting them wrong outright, Klavier had noticed over the following days, as he decided to pursue the connection the other had started. And the conducting...the conducting was very endearing.

He seemed to notice Klavier then, halting mid-motion. “Sorry,” he muttered, folding his arms.

“It’s nothing to apologize for,” they said, projecting as much reassurance as they could with the softness of their eyes, the angle of their posture.

“...Okay.” He eased into a little smile, leaning back against the counter. There was just the lightest dusting of freckles under his eyes, a few shades off from his hair.

“Um, do you need help with something?”

“Mm?” Then Klavier realized they were still staring while Sebastian had been looking at them. “Ah, I’m fine! Just a little distracted.” He left off by what. Less information was better in this kind of situation, and if Sebastian did ask, he would just come up with something.

A nod. Then, a few seconds later. “When you’re done, can I get something from that cabinet?”

Fast as he could, he punched the last couple buttons to start brewing and leaned down to open the door. “Let me help you with that. What do you need, liebling?”

“Oh, thanks. The orange blossom?” When Sebastian asked a question, his mouth went together a little, like he was going to pout but stopped midway through.

There were a lot of boxes of tea in there, but eventually they located the right one and emerged holding the bag aloft. “für dich, Süßer,” they said, using their most dazzling smile.

Sebastian laughed. (And people told Klavier his voice sounded pretty.)

After a second, they realized their friend was tilting his head to the side, watching them. “...sorry, did you say something?”

“Is that the only one?”

Klavier shook his head. “Nein, but,” he looked at the mug on the counter (with a colorful logo of some place he’d never heard of on one side and on the other plain text that read “They Didn’t Have My Name”). It was relatively large, but, “how strong do you like this?”

Oh, no, I-” Turning, he moved over a pair of travel mugs. When Klavier raised their eyebrows, he frowned. “It stays really warm that way and it’s easier than going back all the time!”

“Wie geht es dir so süß?” When Sebastian’s defensive look only intensified, he waved a hand. “That’s clever of you.” The little smile they got in response to that made their heart soar. “Ah,” he ducked back down before he started grinning to the point of being obvious even to Sebastian, “three, then?”

“Yes.” Still smiling, he took the tea from them. He poured out the water, carefully unwrapping all the packets before dropping the bags in with an almost meditative kind of concentration. This too, was new for Klavier to witness. And again, something he found himself the opposite of minding.

The coffee maker beeped. As he grabbed his own mug, he realized something. “How do you plan on getting those back?”

Sebastian, who was holding the mug in both shaky hands, grinned and made a motion as if to pick the others up in the crook of his arms.

Ah. “Well, I have a free hand. May I-” they reached toward the mug. “That way if one of us gets spilled on it’s the one with the darker shirt.” More importantly, it would be him and not Sebastian, but he wasn’t saying that out loud. Not today.

Besides, it really would be a shame to ruin the mostly-pastels of his outfit. The blue of his tailcoat especially was. Really nice on him. Had Sebastian always been this cute, and if so how on earth had they missed it before?

They headed out in the hallway. “How are you doing? It’s been a little while.”

“You mean three days?” he smirked. A moment later, his expression drew back to neutral. “That was a joke.”

Klavier simply nodded. Sebastian still didn’t get tone all the time, even if he was more aware of it, so they weren’t about to argue with him trying to be considerate about that kind of thing.

“But...it’s been pretty good. Kay and I got put on the same case, which is a lot, especially since we can’t talk about it when we’re home.” As he talked, his hands moved. He probably would have been more cautious if he had something open, but it still made Klavier glad he was the one holding the mugs. “Yeah. I’m min- managing.”

See, this would be the perfect opportunity to extend an offer to help him take his mind off things for a while. Invite him out to dinner. Smooth and casual, with the potential to back into something platonic, worst case.

And oh, they wanted to. But it wasn’t the right time. He still had his hands full investigating what happened to Kristoph, into that Justice character and his connection to Herr Wright. It would be enough just juggling two careers and keeping a new relationship insulated from the public, without everything else he was dealing with right then.

Besides, he was pretty sure Herr Edgeworth would bite his head off if he got that close to his protege.

So instead they said, “Well, I’m glad you are, liebling,” with all the genuine warmth they had. (He couldn’t help the little bit of pride at the statement; even if he wasn’t able to express his affection directly, it didn’t mean he had to restrain himself either. With his extra language, he could use terms of affection while everyone around remained none the wiser.)

They reached Sebastian’s office. Shifting the thermoses to one side, he opened the door for Klavier. The little half-bow he did after, indicating for him to go inside, almost made Klavier drop a mug.

In the end, though, it got safely to Sebastian’s desk, on a coaster decorated with a pattern of sheet music that seemed like a real song but wasn’t one Klavier recognized on sight. “There. All set.”

“Thanks, Klavier.” He beamed as he walked over next to him.

Something else that had changed: Sebastian had grown a few inches in the years since they’d known him at school. He hadn’t been cute in the ‘small’ sense since he’d shot up what seemed like a foot during the break between their first and second years, but now he’d filled comfortably into his height (the same as Klavier), and it was something to think they could just step forward and-

But Klavier restrained themself. Not now.

Sebastian stopped on the other side of the desk. “Do you...want to stay here for a while? I can move stuff off the couch or the other chair while you get your stuff.”

Ach, be still his beating heart. “I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Sebastian, how are things coming along with the-” Herr Edgeworth stuck his head in through the door, stopping when he noticed Klavier. His expression didn’t change, save for an extra wrinkle on his forehead.

If he wasn’t leaving already…

“Ah, I’ll let you two get to work.” Grabbing up his mug, he smiled briefly at Sebastian before walking out. As he twisted past Herr Edgeworth, who was looking the other direction, he couldn’t resist calling out “bis spater, schatz!”

It was such a little thing, but it made them smile all the way back to their office. And, a little later on in the day, gave them the tiniest of laughs when they went to the Chief Prosecutor’s office. This was just a normal check-in, so things went smoothly. Herr Edgeworth’s few glances at them were a little more like glares, but he said nothing that didn’t relate to the business at hand, so they were more than willing to let it be.

They were interrupted when the phone rang. He checked the number, then frowned. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

“No problem,” they said, leaning back in their chair.

“Chief Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth speaking.” A few moments of listening and then he sighed “Yes, Franziska, I know-,” walking to the far corner of the room. There, he continued talking, softer.

Klavier couldn’t make out what was being said. Nor was he interested in listening in. But still, after a few exchanges, something about the sound pricked his ears. As he tried to pay attention, it still took him a second, since he had to switch his brain over to German. They weren’t sure why they’d suddenly started paying attention, though; it was just about a case Interpol needed help wi-

Oh. Something heavy dropped in his stomach, squashing his insides together. His brain was still taking in everything happening around him as if from far away, but neither thoughts nor movement were happening for him. Which was a shame, because if he could control his body he might be long gone by now.

Instead, he sat there for the rest of the conversation, and as Herr Edgeworth walked all the way back over to face him. “Prosecutor Gavin,” he said, usual neutrality tinged with the tone of a polite cough.

For a terrifying moment, he could only stare up at where his boss was carefully rearranging papers on his desk. Thoughts came back first, of course. There was no way circumstances would be kind to them. And the first one was that he knew. Worse, he knew that Klavier knew now. The fact that he was avoiding the subject was a relief in that he didn’t suddenly have to figure out what to say, but it didn’t help the pain in his gut or the heat in his face.

“May I be excused for the rest of the day?” He was already embarrassed enough that the strained tone of his voice, once he finally regained use of it, barely even registered.

There was a slight pause, Herr Edgeworth still staring down at his files, before he said, “...Yes.”

The hall outside was a blur, a few people they saw but didn’t process passing them as they stumbled through with whatever the opposite of mindfulness is. He felt a right mess, but none of that mattered right now. He just needed to get outside, to get home, and not think about this for the rest of the d-

“Klavier?”

The voice jolted him out of his state, and he tripped over his feet, falling to the ground. He managed to pick his bag up, but immediately dropped it again when he saw who it was.

Sebastian rushed over. “Are you okay?” A frown. “You shouldn’t be at work like this.”

Ducking their head to hide the new bout of warmth they felt across it, they said, “Nein, ach, ja that- which is why I am on my way home.” Trying to stand, they were met by an arm being thrust toward them. After a brief hesitation, Klavier allowed Sebastian to pull them upright.

Even once he’d gotten his bearings, though, Sebastian didn’t release him. “Let me help you,” he said and, gentle but insistent, started guiding him down the hall.

“Th-there’s no need. It’s not that bad.” The moment he started to tug out of the grip, Sebastian let go entirely. Not expecting it, he tripped again, although not falling this time.

Sebastian’s frown deepened and he flapped his hands, once. “Well I’m not letting you drive yourself home, so there! I’m taking you.”

Ach, his expression was adorable, and were it not for the twin incidents of this morning putting lead butterflies in his stomach Klavier would have gladly let him. “Nein, I couldn’t take you away from your work. I’ll call a taxi.” They tried for their usual smooth tone. Instead, they got almost as squeaky as their words to Herr Edgeworth.

“It’s fine! I was going to take my lunch now anyway.” With a smile in his eyes, he held out his hand once again.

“...I wouldn’t want to get you sick.”

He shrugged. “I’ve only gotten sick off Kay once in all the times she’s ever been sick, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Klavier went to protest again, but his throat was dry and crackly, and worse, he couldn’t think of anything else to say. So he sighed and took the hand.

Even if Sebastian would’ve thought it was from not being well, they were thankful for his gloves keeping him from feeling how gross their palms were – like a teenager on their first date. Sebastian took them along at normal walking speed, with a “let me know if we’re going too fast” after the first couple steps.

All Klavier could think about was the firm, gentle grip on his hand, the place where their arms interlocked (for added stability, but his mind kept going to images of how people led around their dates at formal events), the way their fingers interlaced… He didn’t even notice Sebastian had taken them into the stairwell until the first step. Oh. It was fine. This just meant this would take longer, he thought, as Sebastian held his hand a little tighter.

Not that he fancied this, but being stuck in the elevator with his coworkers as potential witnesses wasn’t any better. Herr Edgeworth wasn’t a gossip; he wouldn’t tell anyone, but if Klavier didn’t know one person’s language capabilities (or even whether they’d look things up, he realized with a jolt, remembering an interviewer joking about spikes in German translation searches after any Gavinners concert), how could he assume anyone’s?

(Would Herr Edgeworth tell Sebastian, considering? Or would someone else, if they knew? Had they not been on a landing at the moment of that thought he certainly would’ve taken a real tumble.)

By the time they got to the parking lot, Klavier would've believed they were sick themself, their head dizzy and fever-flushed. They didn’t protest at all as Sebastian helped them into the passenger seat. A brief glance in the side mirror revealed their hair to be out of place just enough to bother them and them alone, face if not red then certainly off from their usual color. Closing their eyes, they sank back against the cushions and headrest. Now they could sleep, or at least pretend to (and ignore the phantom feeling of Sebastian’s hand on theirs).

Although he did peek them open when the radio crackled on with the car, playing some upbeat pop song that Sebastian quickly turned off.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Do you want me to switch it to something you like, or keep it off?”

Ah, he was so considerate it made Klavier want to cry. He’d probably ask about the temperature next. (He did, once Klavier said he was fine with whatever).

All that time spent sleeping on tour buses really helped him sit comfortably during the ride, the biggest bother being that Sebastian was right there. He couldn’t quite stop thinking about it, with everything that was happening. So it only kind of felt excruciatingly long. They were ever so grateful that Sebastian seemed fine with silence between them.

Finally, they pulled up at Klavier’s house. “Do you want me to-” Sebastian asked as Klavier unbuckled his seat belt.

Even though his legs did feel a bit wobbly, he wasn’t sure if he could handle another round of being so close to Sebastian. Or that he wouldn’t have trouble letting go at the end. “I can manage this much, don’t worry.” They almost added a ‘schatz’ at the end, catching themself just in time.

A nod. Then, he reached into the center console, grabbing some receipt. Even as Klavier watched, transfixed, he scribbled out a phone number and handed it to him. “Uh, here. If you start feeling worse and need something, let me know, ok?”

Klavier could only nod back and try not to think about the fact that Sebastian had just given him his number (step two: immediately failed). With a lack of grace that would've made headlines had a music reporter been around, he got out of the car and in through the door, shutting it behind without a single backwards glance. They collapsed face first onto the couch and screamed into the cushion – the kind of head and throat scream exactly how they’d long ago been trained not to do.

Once he finally stilled into silence, Vongole padded over, pushing her head under his palm.

With a sigh, he moved just enough to scratch her behind the ears. The soft warmth of her fur was grounding to run his fingers through, and soon, between that and simply lying down, his body relaxed.

When he finally sat up, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag before heading to his room. After all they’d been through, they needed to relax. He took off his makeup and changed to a t-shirt and the one pair of sweatpants he owned. As he threw his other clothes over a chair, the paper he’d stuck in a pocket earlier fell to the ground. Sebastian’s number. Klavier snatched it up and threw it on their bedside table – they’d deal with the...everything...related to that later.

A while later he sat back on the couch, this time with lunch and Vongole curled up at his feet as he picked out a movie. (His first instinct was one of the bubblegum teen movies he re-watched when he wanted something fun – the romance plot in those might hit a little too close to home, though. Instead, he went for a cooking show. Safe, basic, still entertaining). He watched it through, and then several more, with breaks for more food and a brief walk with Vongole. It was nice. Klavier couldn’t remember when they’d last just taken some time off – usually having too little to do made them antsy, but between also petting Vongole and idly shopping on their phone, it made for a pleasant one-off afternoon.

He was dozing off when a knock at the door startled him. Groggily pushing a few loose strands of hair back, he stared in that direction. Just as he was about to lie back down, the knock repeated itself.

Only after a third repeat, moments later, did they actually get up. The list of people who would know where he lived was short, and his phone had lost battery a little while ago without him getting up to recharge it.

It was Sebastian. There was a surge of panic at how he’d gotten there before he remembered being given a lift earlier. “Hallo,” he managed, leaning against the door frame.

“Hi. Uh,” he ran his thumb over the ridges of the lid of the plastic container he was holding. “Sorry about showing up without saying anything, but I’d already made the soup when I ra- realized I didn’t have a way to message you, and I know it’s hard cooking when you don’t feel good so-” He held it out to Klavier.

It was warm, and as the container got closer they could faintly smell rich broth. Sebastian had made them food. Made them food and brought it over without being asked because he was concerned for them.

Then he realized he was staring. “Ach, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine! You seem pretty tired; have you been resting?”

Oh, heck. In answering the door, he’d completely forgotten to take his appearance into account, and now here he was, top three most disheveled he’s ever been in front of someone not family, and it was with Sebastian. “Ja,” he squeaked out, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him already.

Instead, Vongole bounded out the door and at Sebastian, barking happily.

“You have a dog!” he said, reaching down to pet her even as she insistently pushed herself up against him. With a laugh, he ruffled her fur, muttering something Klavier couldn’t quite pick up.

“Ah, Vongole, sitz.”

She did, still basking in Sebastian’s attention, tail thumping against the porch.

Sebastian laughed again, and scratched her behind the ears. Looking up at Klavier, he said, “oh, those glasses are cute on you.”

Ah, they’d forgotten about those too. He rarely wore them; glasses covered up too much of his face and just weren’t very comfortable. The only reason he had them on now was because he didn’t want to fall asleep in his contacts again. It was regular ones for work and everyday, with color for-

Wait, did Sebastian just call them cute?

Before they could react, though, he spoke again. “I should probably get going.” The end of his sentence turned up almost into a question, but he stood up. A smile. “Um, let me know if you’re coming in tomorrow, if you’re up for it?” Then, even softer. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Klavier waved, staying at the door until Sebastian’s car pulled away. Then he buried his head in his hands. As he brought Vongole inside, he considered screaming again, but he was too tired. Instead, he had just enough presence of mind to put the soup in the fridge before collapsing into bed, asleep.

They woke up disoriented, this time because it was completely dark out. Reaching to the other side of their bed, they went to check the time on their phone. Except it wasn’t there. A panicked five minutes of searching later and they remembered leaving it in the living room, battery dead.

It was a bit past eleven. Well, he was hungry, so he went to the fridge, and of course the first thing he saw was the soup. It was a rich chicken noodle, a hearty mix of vegetable and grain and meat, and when he taste-tested to check the temperature he had to take a minute. Klavier didn’t consider himself a cook by any stretch of the definition, but he knew good food when he ate it. This was simple, but well made, and remembering that Sebastian had made it for him put a lump in his throat for a second.

They were going to have to go back into work tomorrow, and face the facts of what they’d done. Which…really, they were fine. Probably. Klavier wasn’t doing anything wrong, at worst being a little unprofessional. It was just that Herr Edgeworth didn’t approve – and he would never leverage his power against Klavier for something personal, he knew that.

The easiest option, in terms of avoiding potential future issues, was to back away from contact with Sebastian completely. But they didn’t want to avoid their friend, even if they would only ever be friends, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sebastian either. But if he simply dropped off the endearments and did nothing else like it, within a week or so it would be like they never happened, and everything would be fine for all of them.

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

translations:

schatz/schatzi - treasure

nein, danke - no, thank you

liebling - darling

für dich, Süßer - for you, sweet/honey

Wie geht es dir so süß - how are you so cute

[slytherindisaster]

NOT A DATE

I’ve been in a very soft mood for these two for a while now (I mean I’m sure everybody’s already noticed lmao), so enjoy this little winter-y kinda fluff featuring Roxariel (and some other folks). Also one of the dialogue lines was heavily inspired by this.

Roxie belongs to @weasleysandwheezes, Danny belongs to @catohphm, the Gryffindorks (who are mentioned) belongs to @unfortunate-arrow, @cursebreakerfarrier and @words-and-wands.

Word Count: 3,887

Wednesday, 18.15

Hogwarts’ Library

But I believe in Love

And I know that you do too

And I believe in some kind of path

That we can walk down, me and you

-

Someone snapped their fingers right in front of Gabriel’s face.

“Are you even listening to a word I’m saying?”

Gabriel slightly lifted his head and looked at the boy in Ravenclaw robes. He was sitting at the opposite part of the table and was surrounded by a large amount of books.

“Where had you go?” he asked, eyeing him suspiciously. Gabriel was zooming into his own world again and this time Danny was having none of it.

“I think I’m gonna ask her out” mumbled Gabriel, still looking somewhere beyond the reality he was currently in.

“Who? Elladora Ketteridge?” Danny asked snarkily.

“What?” Gabriel looked at him in confusion as if he finally realised, that not only there’s someone sitting in front of him, but that he’s also asking him questions “What are you talking about, mate?”

“Elladora Ketteridge” Danny repeated, extremely calmly. “The one we have to write an essay about? The essay we need to submit by tommorow morning?” his left eyebrow risen up “Does it ring any bells to you?”

Gabriel looked around at his surroundings, noticing that while the parchment laying in front of him was nearly empty, Danny’s were quite the opposite.

“Yeah, forget it” he waved his hand dismissively and closed the nearest book. “I’m going to ask out Haley.”

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”

“Yeah?” he shrugged.

“When are you going to give up eventually?”

“What do you mean give up?” Gabriel looked at him triggered “I thought you out of all people would be supportive! You basically bullied me into having feelings for her, with all your admit that you like her already bull-crap talks!” he said imitating his friend’s voice.

“I do not sound like that.” said Danny but he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Whatever, my point is — you succeeded. I do like her and now I’m going to take her on a date, because it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, for Gordic’s sake!”

With each word he was speaking louder, which eventually catched the attention of the librarian.

“Mr Sapieha!” she scolded him.

“I am incredibly sorry m’am.” he answered immediately, as if he knew it was going to happen.

Danny sighed.

“You’re aware that she must agree to it first, right?”

“Oh, she will” said Gabriel with the amount of confidence as if she already did.

“Right, just like all those times before?” his friend rolled his eyes with a slight smile.

“Look, she will go out with me this time. I mean, let’s be honest — for how long you can resist this pretty face?” he gestured at himself.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her yourself?” Danny pointed the quill he had in his hand at the library door, that just opened.

Gabriel turned around and leaned back in his chair, trying to get a better look.

“Haley!” he called out.

This time the librarian just glanced at him angrily.

“Right, my bad. I apologise” he said and sent her a charming grin.

Roxanne Haley, who just stepped into the library, was a girl that possesed both incredible wit and the privilege to call herself definitely more than pretty. That blond-haired Ravenclaw were — in Gabriel’s eyes — practically a perfect match for him. The only minor obstacle for them living happily ever after were the fact that she seemed to have a deep aversion towards him. And she wasn’t shy to show it.

Not that he was actually bothered by it.

Roxie crossed the whole library looking like she knew exactly what she needed to do and how much time it’s going to take her. Gabriel could sewar that this girl even sneezed only when she planned it before.

“Hello Roxie” said Danny when she stumbled past them.

She paused at the sound of her name and took two steps backwards. She smiled when she saw that it was Danny who called her.

“Oh hi! I’m sorry I didn’t see you there, I’m kinda busy actually” she said in one breath “I need to finish all the assignments for the week if I want to have the time do go to Hogsmeade this weekend.”

“Let me guess, you’re all out of quills already?” asked Danny in a tone that implied he knew the answer already.

“If only of quills!” she laughed and turned her head slightly to see that there’s another person listening to this conversation. Her laughter immediately died out. “Sapieha.” she said acknowledging his presence.

“Haley.” he responded with a playful wink. “Fancy to join us?” he asked, still leaning back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant.

“Are you daft? Why would I want to willingly spend time with you?” her brows furrowed as she spoke. “Besides, I was just saying that I am busy.”

“Come on!” he groaned “You can admit that you enjoy our study sessions.”

She blinked couple of times, as if she didn’t quite catch what he said to her.

“Danny and I have study sessions. You just so happen to be there everytime, just to annoy the shi—“ she cleared her throat. “To annoy me.”

“Well if you’re really so bothered by me why do you keep showing up?”

“Because I’m friends with Danny, genius!”

“Well he’s my friend too” he put his hands up in defensive gesture “so, it looks like we’re stuck together!”

“Mister Sapieha, Miss Haley, for the last time—“

Roxie opened her mouth to apologize, but Gabriel was faster. He put his chair back on it’s four legs and turned around to look at the visibly irritated woman.

“I am so sorry m’am, It’s utterly my fault” he said with a sheepish smile on his face, looking right at her “What about I stay around to clean this place up after you close? You really deserve some time off, after putting up with all of us all day m’am.”

The woman’s expression softened a little.

“Or you can just keep quiet from now on?” she said but this time there wasn’t any anger in her voice.

“Of course!” he said loudly “I mean— from now on.”

He turned back to his table, only to see Danny looking at him with disapproval.

“You need to stop doing this.” he said.

“Doing what exactly?” asked Gabriel, trying to appear clueless.

“You know what.”

“Okay first of all —“ he began, leaning back into his chair again. “it’s not like I can control it completely. Sometimes it just... happens naturally. Second of all— I’ll remind you about this conversation next time you will need something from the restricted setcion” he gave him a knowing look and the he turned Roxie. “Haley, you were saying?”

“Do I— do I want to know what was this about?”

“I have a better question” said Gabriel, grinning “Do you want to know what we’re doing this weekend?”

“We?”

“Yeah, we” he nodded in agreement “I’m taking you to Hogsmeade.”

“Not in a milion years, Sapieha” she snorted.

“You said you were going to do some shopping anyway, right? You might as well kill two hipogriffs with one stone.” he winked at her again.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the saying goes...” she rolled her eyes.

“Actually we can all go together” Danny swooped into their conversation “I need to take care of some stuff there too.”

Roxie sighed heavily, and shoot Danny a disappointed look.

“Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

“Quite the opposite actually” he chuckled “It’s simple, I like to spend time with both of you” he shrugged. “Please, don’t let me ask you twice, Roxie.”

Roxie took a deep breath, reviewing her options. She looked at her friend after a while, visibly tired.

“Fine. Don’t make me regret this Danny.” she said and walked away, leaving them alone.

Gabriel glanced at his friend annoyed as soon as she left.

“What? What did I do this time?”

-

Saturday, 12.45

Outside The Hogwarts Castle

The excited chatter could be heard from a mile away, as always when it came to Hogsmeade weekends. Hogwarts students were all around the place, not even bothered by the cold whether of late December.

Gabriel was looking around the courtyard, now filled with the school’s carriges with no carters, trying to find his friend. Although he and Danny didn’t really established where they’re supposed to meet, Gabriel was hoping to see him sowhere between the groups of other students, trying to get nice spots for the road.

Finally he spotted a familiar streaks of blonde hair, blowing in the wind, which of course haven’t belong to the person he intended to find, but nevertheless the search turned out to be a success. The girl he was watching, just walked towards one of the carriges that were left on the side of the courtyard, as if she was sure that it’s empty.

“Oi, Haley!” Gabriel yelled and jogged up in her direction. She pretended not to see him and tried to quickly close the carrige door, but he managed to catch it just in time. “Hey, where’s Danny-boy?” he asked, catching his breath, when he noticed that she was the only one inside.

“He said that he’s feeling sick and isn’t coming” she said casually, although her expression looked like she was holding back a couple of curse words.

Oh, he did, didn’t he? Gabriel thought to himself. This sneaky bastard! And just when I started to doubt him.

“Although I think it’s pretty weird, because he seemed perfectly fine when I saw him at breakfast today!” Roxie continued to rant, as Gabriel tried to swallow a cheeky smile that was crawling up on his face.

He slowly climbed the carrige steps.

“So...” He said as he sat himself at the couch across from her. “Looks like it’s just you and me then” he stated and closed the door.

“What?” she looked at him shocked. “Oh, not a chance, Sapieha, you’re walking out of this carrige right—”

They both felt a small bump and the carrige started to move slowly. This time Gabriel couldn’t help but smile.

“You were saying?” he asked, with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“We’re parting ways, as soon as we walk out of this carrige.” she said in a cold voice, looking outside the window, at the road.

“Oh, come on, Haley!” he groaned “Let me take you on a date. Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for!”

“Not in this life. Or any other for that matters.”

“Why not?”

“Because” she said, finally turning to him, the look of her eyes seemed to be way colder than all the snow laying outside the road. “I have utterly no interest in you whatsoever, and even if I did, which is impossible and not going to happen, I do not have time for this kind of stuff.”

“Ouch” he laughed putting a hand on his chest, in a place when his heart was “that’s pretty harsh, even for you, Haley.”

“Ugh, grow up.” she rolled her eyes and returned to looking out the window.

“Okay, no dates then. But let me just tag along while you’ll do your chores. I mean we were supposed to spent this time together anyway, remember?” He changed his tactic. “Also I have nothing to do there anyway, all my friends stayed in the castle.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw the Ellison boy, along with the others — how do you keep calling yourselves? Massive dorks? — outside the castle, betting if they can spent the whole ride to Hogsmeade at the roof of the carrige.”

“Gryffindorks” he corrected her “And it could be anyone, really” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“They were yelling to you, about why aren’t you coming” she raised her eyebrows in a pretentious manner.

“I— I’ve never seen those guys in my life before” he said in full seriousness.

“Whatever.” she said rolling her eyes again, but he could swore he saw a shadow of a smile passing by on her face.

“So, how’s it gonna be?”

“Why would I even want for you to come with me anyway?” Roxie asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Um, besides the fact that you can enjoy the company of yours truly?” he teased, but the look on her face made him quickly regret that sentence. “I’ll carry your stuff or something.” he srugged.

She remained silent, thinking intensively about an answer, and it looked like she was searching for any reason why she would agree on it. After what felt like forever she finally announced:

“Fine.”

-

17.26

Hogsmeade Village

Roxie stepped out from another shop with, yet another paper bag full of school supplies. She went trough the list she made in her head and checked if there is any place she forgot to visit. When she finally established that she was, in fact, done with shopping, she realised that something was missing. Or rather someone. And as she would normally be pleased to be finally left alone, he had all her stuff with him.

“I’m sorry, were you waiting for long?”

She turned around and was more than relieved when she saw that he was still holding her bags as she left them. To her own surprise she was actually kinda glad that he was back at all, and the stuff he was carring had nothing to do with it.

She quickly shook her head, trying to repress those thoughts.

“Where were you?”

“Why, you missed me?” he smiled cheekily but her face remained unimpressed. “Uh, I got kinda hungry so I stepped into Honeydukes, while you were shopping for quills at Scrivenshaft’s.”

“You got hungry, so you went to buy some sweets?”

“Um, yeah? Oh, right” he digged into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a small blue box. “Here.”

“Wha—“

“I wasn’t sure if you preferred the regular frogs or the white chocolate ones, so I bought both” he said as he handed her the box “...but then I kinda ate the white chocolate one, so, I hope you like the regular ones.”

They both started to walk slowly, although neither had the idea where they were heading now. The freshly fallen snow was creaking under their boots.

“Right. Thank you, I guess?”

“Just take the frog” he said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Fine.” she shrugged and stared to open it but then she suddenly stopped. “Wait— how do I know that you didn’t fill it out with some love potion or something?”

Gabriel’s smile disappeared. He furrowed his brows and said with all seriousness:

“I feel deeply offended by that, Haley. Merlin, I know you don’t think very highly of me, but a love potion? Seriously?”

Her already rosy cheeks, slowly turned into a shade of red.

“How could I know? You’re kind of a wild card, aren’t you?” she said defensively.

“Well, do you really think I need such thing as a love potion? Have you seen me?” he laughed suddenly, his expression softened.

“First of all, how can one person be this full of oneself?” she asked snarkily.

“Haley, I am just messing with you—”

“Second of all” she continued, ignoring him. “I rather be safe than sorry. Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of something like this!”

Gabriel slowed down a little, processing what she just said.

“So, you think I’m handsome, huh?”

“That’s— that’s not even near the point I was trying to make! Is this all you got from my words?”

“Well, do you?”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself down. A little cloud of steam escaped her mouth when she exhaled.

“Just for the record — yes. I think you kind of fit into the conventionally attractive category. Although I am positive, that the simple fact of you having Veela genes heavily influenced this opinion.”

He looked at her in full suspicion, his brow furrowed again.

“Wait, how do you even know about that?” he looked her up and down, but her expression, as always, wasn’t telling him anything. “I thought it weren’t a public knowledge? Don’t get me wrong, I am not ashamed of it, just— I’m not going around the school telling that stuff to everybody I meet.”

“I just always do my research well.” she said casually, not looking at him.

“Research? You were doing research on me?”

“I— I like to know the enemy well enough!” she tried to explain, but in result she buried herself even deeper.

“Merlin, are you even hearing yourself right now? Haley, I hate to be the one breaking the news for you, but you’re totally obsessed with me!” he laughed, noticing that her cheeks got even more red.

“That’s not what—”

“I mean, not that I mind” he shrugged his shoulders.

They walked in silence for a some time. Roxie’s face went back to her normal color or, at least, as normal as one can be during a winter afternoon. She looked at him from the side, shaking her head, but her lips were curled into a small smile.

“You’re a weird one, Sapieha” she said after a while.

“Hey, look who’s talking. Do you have, like, a file on me or something?”

“You’re still onto that? I’ve told you — it’s not like that!”

“What’s it like then?” he asked, looking genuinely interested. “How do you know about me being a quarter-Veela?”

She sighed heavily, before answering.

“I think Danny mentioned it to me at some point.”

“Oh, so now you’re saying that you’ve been talking about me with Danny? That’s interesting.” The shit-eating grin once again crawled back onto his face.

“Don’t start it—!”

“No, no— I’m quite flattered actually.” he said quickly, cutting her off. “You see, I’m always interrogating my friends about the people that I deeply despise too.”

“Yeah, right” she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“It’s true, though. That’s how I know that you’re a Capricorn for example.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean, I guess that makes perfect sense given that you’re willing to give up basically everything just to be at the top of the class.” he chuckled to himself “I should probbably been able to figure it out myself. Feel kinda stupid now, honestly. Although I still have no idea what’s your rising sign, or moon for that matters—”

Gabriel finally spotted her confused look. A cold wave of embarrassment went down his spine. His confidence melted almost as fast as the snowflakes falling onto his head.

“It’s just— kind of my thing, you know? Or I like to think that it is. Astrology, I mean.”

With the corner of his eye he noticed that she shivered a little. Seeing it as the perfect opportunity to drift the unwanted attention away from his stupid babbling, he took off the scarf, that was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Here.”

He overtook slightly and stopped right in front of her, forcing her to do the same. Before she got a chance to protest, he carefully wrapped the scarf around her neck.

“Shut it, Haley, will you? I can see that you’re cold.”

“It’s— Actually it’s surprisingly thoughtful of you” she said, with an expression he couldn’t quite read.

“What? I can be a gentleman!” he angrily tucked his hands back into his pockets.

She started to laugh at his frustrated reaction.

“No, I mean— It’s seems weird that you’re so concerned about me being cold, while you are the one walking around in an unbuttoned coat” she said as she grabbed the flaps of his coat, pulling him a little closer.

“Well I just—” he swallowed the words he wanted to say. Instead he just looked as she started doing up the buttons.

“Done” she said after a couple of seconds but, to both his and her surprise, she didn’t take a step back.

“Perfect” he murmured as a thank you, although he haven’t took a single glance at his coat. He was looking at her instead.

She lifted her head a little and finally locked her eyes with his. He was sure that somehow she got even closer, though he wasn’t really confident if it was her who moved or if he did it himself. They stayed like this, caught up in the moment, for a little while. Then, Gabriel managed to gather all the courage he had left in him, and just as he leaned in to cut the distance between their lips—

SMACK

— something hard hit him in the back of his head, and almost immediately shattered in pieces.

“Ha! You missed!”

He turned around, his eyes glowing with anger. Two third years freezed with the laughter on their faces. The one standing farther realised that the snowball he send seconds ago didn’t miss after all.

“Oi! Watch out you two!” Gabriel yelled in their direction, annoyed.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” the one who hit him yelled back.

“Well, I sure hope you didn’t, mate!” Unexpectedly, a chuckle escaped Gabriel’s mouth. “Otherwise I would have to challenge you to a snowball fight. And let me tell you, I’m incredibly good!”

The boys both smiled with relief, when they realised that he wasn’t mad. Or at least he didn’t sound like he was.

“Right, I can’t imagine the defeat I would face from your hands!” the boy said cheerfully, the other one started to laugh.

“Yeah, you never know when you accidentally hit a snowball fight champion!” Gabriel laughed with them “So try to be more careful next time, will you?”

“Sure thing!”

Gabriel nodded towards the opposite side of the street with a playful smirk.

“Now, get outta here!”

The two third years ran off with laughter trailing their way.

Gabriel turned back to Roxanne, only to find her standing at much bigger distance than she was before. Despite that though, he was able to notice that she was heavily blushing, and again it wasn’t because of the low temperature.

“Remind me to never challenge you to a snowball fight, Mr. Champion” she said with laughter.

“Hey, I am really good at it, okay?” he pretended to be offended. “Although I must admit that he had a good hand too, it hit me pretty hard” he said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Baby.”

“Well aren’t you moving fast, Haley. Are we in the pet names stage, already?”

“What? No. I was insulting you!”

“Could’ve fooled me” he sent her a playful smile.

“Shut up” she shoved his shoulder, but a small smile was present on her face.

“You’re the one who started it.”

She rolled her eyes and begin to walk again.

“Come on, move it, Sapieha!” she called, without looking at him.

“Wait, where are we going now?” he asked trying to catch up with her.

“The Three Broomsticks are just around the corner” she said over her shoulder. “I think I might let you buy me a Butterbeer.”

A wide grin appeared on his face.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Right” he nodded as he walked up to her side.

He extended his arm to her, and even though Roxie rolled her eyes at first, she tucked her hand under it. They haven’t really talked until they reached the Three Bromsticks, but for some reason, the silence hanging between them wasn’t awkward at all.

Actually, it felt just about right.

-

So keep your candles burning

And make her journey bright and pure

That she will keep returning

Always and evermore

Into my arms

— Nick Cave, Into My Arms

[honeyhan-123]

The Artist ~ III

Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.

Warnings: none (smut in later chapters)

Word Count: 2.6k

AN: I am so sorry it took my a while to come out with the next part of the series but I hope y’all like it. Also Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to everyone! 

As always a massive thank you to the beautiful @imanuglywombat​ who designed the amazing moodboard. 

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Part One ~ Part Two

Steve had woken up the next morning in a funk. It had started the night before when he had awkwardly walked back to the tower with Bucky. He wanted so badly to say something, to say anything to the other man but everytime he tried, he was just reminded of that night and his heart shuddered in his chest. He had thought they were finally in a good place again but it still hurt. He knew he was being selfish but he couldn’t help it. He had waited so long to finally get Bucky back and to have him so close but not in the way he wanted was torture for Steve.

It was as though the entire tower could feel Steve’s sour mood as hardly anyone bothered him throughout the day. He had spent most of it in the gym, either destroying yet another punching bag or sparing with his teammates as they drifted in and out of the room. The hours that he didn’t spend in the gym were occupied by a small amount of paperwork and mission planning. 

They had recently caught wind of some illegal arm dealing off the coast of Portugal and while it would have normally been left to the authorities, they had reason to suspect they were dealing with alien tech so the team had been brought in. There wasn’t much information circling about it so Steve knew he still had a couple weeks to plan but it still made him slightly ansty being so unprepared.

The hours passed slowly but finally it was six o’clock and Steve felt no guilt as he packed up for the day. There was a slight spring in his step as he left Avengers tower with his sketchbook tucked under his arm and his sour mood from earlier was almost completely forgotten. His legs jiggled as he took the J train out to Brooklyn, equal parts nerves and excitement ransacked their way through his veins. 

To help pass the time as the train rushed through underground tunnels Steve watched those around him. Not like he would on a mission trying to figure out whether or not they were actually civilians but as he imagined an artist would watch them. He tried to figure out how he would draw each and every and every passersby. He tried to memorise the way the old lady’s smile lines deepened as she spoke to who Steve assumed to be her grandson, or the way the little boy looked up to her with complete adoration in his eyes. 

He felt so much more at ease than he had all day as he stepped off the train and began the short walk towards the studio, his mind never once drifting to his brunet best friend. Despite the darkening sky the streets were packed as people bustled around and Steve had to squeeze his way through the throng of people. He smiled as he passed a group of carolers despite it only being late November. The familiar tune of ‘Good King Wenceslas’ floated through his ears and he stooped to donate a hefty sum in their collection tin, earning him a round of ‘thank yous’.  

The studio was only a block away so when he finally dashed up the steps, he could still hear the melodic voices of the group. As he pulled the door open, a warm gush of air washed over him and he couldn’t wait to get inside but he heard someone call out to him that made him pause. 

‘Hey! Hold the door please!’ He turned as you came bustling up the stairs, your face barely visible behind the large canvass you carried. Steve stood back and ushered you in ahead of him and you gave him a small ‘thanks!’ 

Already starting to feel a little too warm in your multiple layers, you set down the canvass just inside the entryway and shrugged out of your heavy winter jacket. ‘It’s bloody cold out there isn’t it? I reckon we’ll get some snow for sure this year.’ Steve nodded his head somewhat absentmindedly, trying to tear his eyes away from you. 

‘I - uh - yeah, I hope so. It used to snow heaps in the city when I was growing up but it’s been a while since we’ve had a proper winter.’ 

‘Oooh that must have been so nice! I’ve always wanted a white Christmas like in all those Hallmark movies but I grew up in Australia so that was never going to happen.’ 

‘You’re from Australia?’ The slight twang of your accent had been one of the first things Steve had noticed about you, but he thought maybe the average person wouldn’t have been able to tell. It definitely sounded like you had been in New York for a while. 

‘Yeah, Melbourne actually. I moved here after university. I have no idea why though. Probably some preconceived notion that to be an artist, you have to struggle in New York for a bit first.’ You laughed as you mocked yourself and Steve smiled, knowing exactly what you meant. ‘What about you? Are you originally from the Big Apple or are you a newbie like me?’ Your eyes locked with his as you asked and Steve felt his smile deepen. 

‘I was born and raised here in Brooklyn actually.’

‘Right of course, you literally said you grew up in the city earlier. Sorry about that.’ Steve shrugged away your apology telling you not to worry about it. The door was pulled open and you tried to move out of the way as a gust of cold air drifted inside following another class member who you smiled in greeting at.

‘We should probably head in, it’s nearly seven.’ Steve said as he checked his watch. ‘Do you need a hand with that?’ He gestured towards the large canvas leaning against the wall.

‘Oh yeah. If you wouldn’t mind? It’s just a bit awkward to carry by myself.’

‘Not at all.’ He easily lifted it into his arms and followed as you led the way down the hallway and into the studio. He had no choice but to follow as you headed towards one of the easels towards the front of the room, where you had sat last week. Even though he didn’t want to be noticed by the rest of the class, Steve couldn’t resist the temptation of sitting down in the empty stool next to yours. 

He watched as you pulled out your oil paint and started setting them on a very used palette and Steve was reminded of last night. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, as you hadn’t mentioned yet, but he thought maybe you just hadn’t seen him. After all he and Bucky had been towards the back. 

‘I uh, I saw you last night. At Ronan’s bar for the wine and art night.’ He clarified, determined not to seem creepy. ‘I was going to say hi but you seemed a little busy.’

‘Oh, really? I’m so sorry I didn’t even notice you were there! But how good is it!? $25 for unlimited wine plus some art fun. It’s just a shame they only run it during winter.’ You looked slightly remorseful and Steve couldn’t help but agree.

‘I didn’t realise that. I just found the flier over the weekend and decided to give it a try.’ 

‘Well I’m glad you did. If you don’t mind me asking, why the sudden interest in art?’

‘Oh, well I don’t know really. One of my friends, Nat, found my sketchbook that’s basically been abandoned the last few years and wouldn’t stop nagging me to get back into it. She and Tony are always pushing me to have a life beyond work.’

‘Tony as in Tony Stark?’

It only crossed Steve’s mind as he nodded that perhaps not all of Tony’s employees were on a first name basis with him. He needed to be more careful with the words that came out of his mouth. Eager to shift the conversation away from Tony he quickly divulged even more personal information. ‘I uh, I think it might have something to do with my friend, the one I told you about last time.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, growing up he was practically always my muse and we’ve only recently found each other again - he had to go away for a while. Maybe it’s because he’s back again that I’ve found the inspiration…’ He drifted off, unsure of what he was saying. ‘That probably didn’t make any sense.’

‘No, no, it did. I totally get what you mean. I used to have this dog, his name was Bear and growing up I used to draw him all the time. But when he passed away, I just didn’t feel that spark anymore, you know? It took me a while to find it again but when I did everything just made sense again.’ 

Steve was refrained from replying by the entrance of Madame Maxine to the studio as she quickly called the class to order. 

‘Today we have the wonderful Jerry modelling again. Since it is his second week, he will be modelling nude for us today.’ Her attention drifted back to Jerry who was wearing a dark red silken robe. ‘If you could please derobe Jerry and get settled into position B that would be brilliant.’ Jerry nodded and followed her instructions, setting himself down on the stool in front of the class. Steve had to admire his confidence. He knew that even if it was purely for art he could never model nude for anyone, he struggled enough doing promotional shots when he was fully clothed. 

Steve was too aware of you sitting next to him for the next hour. Everytime you shifted on your stool or bent to mix some more paints he noticed and his eyes followed your movements. As a result his own sketch was barely half complete by the time the hour was up and the small bell rang. He would definitely be voting to keep the position. 

Your painting on the other hand was beautiful. Despite the limited time you had not only managed to capture Jerry as he was, but also his essence. Steve was enraptured and stammered his way through a maze of compliments which you humbly shrugged away. 

‘I just have experience with Jerry, he modelled last winter and he works here part time too.’ 

‘He works here?’

‘Yeah Maxine rents out the studios to aspiring artists if they need a large space. I had this massive project over the summer on three canvases that were each four by five meters and my apartment is a shoebox so it never would have worked if it weren’t for Maxine.’

‘Wow, that sounds impressive.’ Steve could hardly imagine working on as big a canvass as you were currently using, never mind one nearly three times the size. ‘How long did it take you to finish?’

You glanced down, slightly avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s not… well it's not technically finished yet. I’m so close to being done with it but I just…’ You trailed off, unsure how to put it into words. 

‘There’s something missing?’ Steve filled in for you and you nodded eagerly.

‘It’s almost right but everytime I think it’s done I realise just how much I hate it and I have to leave the room to stop myself from painting over it again.’ Although Steve had never done something quite on the same wavelength he could relate to the need for perfection. He had lost count of how many pages he had ripped out of his sketchbook and thrown in the trash only to start all over again. 

‘What’s it of?’

‘It’s a collection, mainly of my favourite places in New York and it’s all about the human footprint… or at least, it’s meant to be.’ 

‘If it’s anything like your painting of Jerry I’m sure it’ll be incredible.’ 

Steve didn’t have to be able to see it to know that your cheeks would be flushing with heat at his compliment. He didn’t understand why you doubted yourself so much, it was clear that you were incredibly talented. ‘Thank you, you’re far too sweet.’ 

Maxine clapped her hands once again calling the attention of everyone. ‘It is now that time where we decide if we would like Jerry to stay as he is or if we would like him in a new position. Raise your hands for the same pose.’ Steve eagerly raised his hand along with you and most of the class.

After a quick headcount Maxine nodded firmly. ‘Well that settles it, Jerry, if you would be so kind as to return to position B.’ Once again the silk robe fell to the floor as Jerry repositioned himself on the stool and Steve promised that he wouldn’t let himself get as distracted by you this time around. 

+

By the end of the second hour Steve had a half decent looking sketch that paled in comparison to yours but he had long since resigned himself to its fate. 

‘Your painting is amazing.’ He told you truthfully and you smiled up at him abashed. 

‘Thank you Steve. That really means a lot.’

‘Well, it’s definitely true.’ Once again, Steve’s heart constricted in his chest as you flashed a sweet, bashful smile his way. He really felt a little ridiculous, being so completely enticed by someone he had only just met but being with you, it just all felt different. 

He watched as you packed up your paints and helped you carry the drying canvas over to the corner of the room where Maxine said you could leave it for the night. 

By the time you were by the coat rack you and Steve were the only students left in the studio, everyone else had filed out fairly quickly. Steve shoved his coat on and quickly plucked your own from the hook, holding it out for you. 

He wondered briefly if he was perhaps overstepped but the smile of gratitude you flashed him put him at ease as you daintily slid your arms into the open holes. ‘Thank you.’

‘Anytime.’ He walked with you out of the building and down into the street. 

‘Well, I’m heading this way.’ You pointed in the opposite direction of the train station and Steve felt a brief flash of chagrin. He wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye just yet and he got the feeling that you felt the same. 

‘I’m the other way. But uhh…’ The invitation to coffee at a cafe just down the street was on the tip of his tongue as his phone rang. ACDC’s Back in Black rang through the cool night air, breaking any tension that had been building up. 

You flashed what looked like a remorseful smile and raised a hand in farewell. ‘I’ll let you get that, but will you be at Ronan’s next week?’

‘Yeah, yes. I will.’ Steve hadn’t really thought about returning to the little bar but if that’s where you were going to be, that’s where he would be too. 

‘Great! I’ll uh, see you there.’ You flashed him that sweet and bashful smile once more before turning on your heel and getting lost in the crowds of New York. 

Steve watched you go for longer than he really should have and by the time he finally fished his phone out of his pocket Tony had nearly been sent to voicemail. 

‘Tony, what’s going on?’

+

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