#it’s such a perfect all-encompassing piece for the series finale

[azurexsnake]

I think I could listen to Drain Arm and just never get tired of it

[keystonepublishing]

Ten Pages from the Gazetteer of Time by Jonathan Edelstein

I maaaaay have overused the drawings of Shaun Tan for this particular bookbind.

I may or may not be sorry.

Remember how I said how First Do No Harm was Jonathan Edelstein's earliest published work? Well, I was correct. But before that, Jonathan did write another piece of short fiction that is not officially published in any magazine or anthology. In fact, this story can only found in two places across the internet; a series of old Facebook pasts and a fiction thread on AlternateHistory.com.

It is this. Ten Pages from the Gazetteer of Time.

To describe it is... difficult. It is akin to Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities but focusing more on history, cultural evolution, and the relationship between cities and people. In fact, Jonathan has said this short story is inspired by Italo Calvino's work, and it really shows.

Printing the cover & endpapers was an experiment unto itself. Early on, I wanted to use the drawings of Shaun Tan (who has given permission for anyone to print his drawings, so long as it's fully non-commercial) as they have the perfect vibe for this book. But I also wanted these prints to last long without getting smudged by my naturally sweaty fingers.

So I cut pieces of drawing board paper to A4 size, sent them through the printer, cut the drawings to appropriate size, and sprayed them with an non-acidic, acrylic-based gloss varnish. The texture and results weren't what I desired - some moisture can still enter the prints and some of the crispness is slightly dulled - but it is definitely more protected from open moisture.

The chapter titles are typed using Doves Type Text while the main body of work are done with Alegreya. For the most part, the formatting for 9 / 10 chapters follow what you see above. The sole exception is the final chapter for Ynyr. For story reasons, I wanted to have a representation of singularity and so used a photo from Adam Block that perfectly matches the chapter. The photo also worked as a good overlay for the chapter title, conveying the awe and centrality of the singularity for the city.

As with previous bookbinds, I also added a meta notes and comments section to archive the reactions and discussions of early readers to the story.

All in all, the production of this book took a bit longer than the last, owing to the printing and glossing of the covers and endpapers, as well as editing the images to fit the pages. Although, there are still some kinks in the finished bind - the cover print does not encompass fully to reach the endpapers - I am reasonably pleased with the result.

Full thanks to Jonathan Edelstein for his permission to bind this work, and to Shaun Tan for his permission to use his drawings. As for Adam Block, uh, please forgive me.

P.S: I took the liberty to save the original forum thread for this story onto the Internet Archive. Enjoy!

[inventedfangirling]

BEST of BL's in 2023 [Thai edition]

(more accurately my favourites from 2023, so that i have something to show for the 100s of hours i spent watching them lmao)

I Feel You Linger In The Air - Head & Shoulders above (almost) every single piece of queer media i've ever watched. Khun Yai and Jom will be forever icons. That drunk poem confession will NEVER be topped. Also LESBIANS AHHHHHH also the way the show explored intimacy AHHH just end meeee

2. Moonlight Chicken - Aof strikes again. Gave me Uncle Jim, Heart, Li Ming and my baby boy Gaipa- the music, the cinematography, the writing, the found fckin family - i will recommend it to EVERY one on the planet if i could.

3. Be My Favourite- I did not expect to enjoy this show as much as i did. I loved what they were tryna say. I LOVED the queer undertones in EVERYTHING. if not for the asexual erasure and Not being an absolute asshole this would have been quite the perfect show. And man is Gawin so darn sculpted perfection, LOOK AT THAT FACE, how to not admire!? Also Pearmai my beloved. AND THAT POEM in episode 11 ARGHHH

4. Bed Friend - I know this was a polarizing series in a lot of ways and I agree to some of the complaints raised BUTTTTTT NET MY FRENZ NET! How am i supposed to not melt into a complete puddle watching King pretend to not be absolutely in love with Uea, and treating him like the babygirl he is, when he looks like THAT. I'm but a mere mortal.

5. La Pluie - I kinda liked the show and disliked it in equal amounts. Saengtai annoyed me quite a LOT towards the end BUT his brother Sangtien - Suar Kritsanaphong had me in the palm of his hand. Him and his kiss with Lomfon is etched firmly in my brain. It HAD to be on this list.

6. Only Friends - Gawd. The Promise. The Promise of it all. Thats what maddens me THE MOST. There was just SO MUCH that they could have done. Even if they stuck with a lot of their similar choices i would have still put it higher up on the list if they hadn't undone all the good work they did in the final episode. I couldnt even bring myself to rewatch anything from this one cos of how disappointingly it ended. That being said - FirstKhao KILLED it as usual, i CANNOT wait for their next one, BOSTON deserved better and my MVP- Mark Pakin AHHH i NEED him on EVERY SHOW EVER but also in ways concerning to me GAWD WHAT A TALENT AND WHAT A FACE.

7. Laws of Attraction - Charn you guys. Charn and his utterly deranged expressions and his even more deranged ex. And ofc everything else the show offered. The drama. The mystery. The family. The romance. THE LESBIANS!!!!? Few things not to love. Especially the finale with all the domestic husbanding going on. Precious af.

8. Hidden Agenda - Far too much nonsensical plotlessness going on here for this to claim this position BUT i'm just a girl watching Joong swoon over his man and losing it in the corridor and proceeding to do that myself cos man he's so damn good in these kinda scenes. I think he'd be good in more serious ones too but I would much prefer it if it was with somebody who could offer more than Dunk (no shade he very cute himself)

POTENTIAL FAVS

The following is a list of shows i loved/liked it a LOT but still watching/running so I can't fully judge

(in no particular order except the first one cos who am i to put an aof show not at the top of any list)

Last Twilight [BEST THING EVER I AM WHOLLY AND IRRETRIEVABLY IN LOVE IM GONNA REWATCH IT LIKE ITS MY JOB PLS I NEED IT TO STICK THE LANDING SO BAD]

Love in Translation - episode 4 what a beauty, one of my fav episodes of any BL in 2023 ever- just LOVED the whole fake date thing - it was EVERYTHING

Wedding Plan - Leads are cute. Lesbians are cuter. Made me laugh. Also CUTENESS hello

Night Dream - Who doesn't love a long unrequited but actually totally requited love story?

The Sign - nothing i can ever say is gonna be enough to encompass just how mind-blowing this series is from concept to execution to CGI to costumes to the gorgeous leads with fckin electric chemistry AND the PINING and the will they won't they arhhhh- TOP TIER STUFF

Cooking Crush - i went into this with minimal expectations, the trailer didnt do much for me BUT oh my gawd i had SO MUCH FUN with each episode, i laughed SO much and i am very much looking forward to the rest of it

Cherry Magic - TayNew back again together. Karan and his gorgeous existence. Loved the og. The trope where one believes they are hard to love & someone who loves them like it’s breathing- its literally made for this show and i am SUPER excited where it goes. PLS PLS PLS let them keep the aroace character aroace PLEASE!?!?!?

[the-celluloid-correspondent]

SUCCESSION SERIES REVIEW

The Roy Family is known for controlling the world's biggest media and entertainment company. However, a battle for succession brews as the company's CEO's health begins to diminish.

Like all great things, everything must come to an end. The international sensation of the world's most dysfunctional billionaire family, Succession, has officially concluded its final season. The question of whether or not it was going to stick its landing was up in the air. Thankfully Succession not only sticks its landing but has become a modern Shakespearian tragedy that will go down in history as one of the greatest pieces of filmmaking ever made.

From beginning to end, Succession is a masterpiece of filmmaking. At the core of its story, Succession is a character/family study on the effects of abuse, power, and greed. Each of these core themes is handled masterfully within each character and their relationship with others as they either succeed or succumb in playing the game of thrones. In a spiderweb of political foreplay, no backstabbing, exchange, nor decision is left behind in the story. With all of the decisions being impeccably drawn out by its outstanding ensemble of narcissistic characters. The characters, though abusive, manipulative, and narcissistic, have numerous layers of characterization that very few shows have been able to hit. Whether their unique dialogue or moments of emotional vulnerability, there are truly no characters like the ones in Succession.

These characters are masterfully portrayed by an ensemble worthy of Emmy Awards. It is final season, each performance showcased a new depth of emotional range that no one thought these characters could exhibit. Jeremy Strong's ability to go from abusive rage to the worse of depression is insane. Kieran Culkin showcases an emotional vulnerability of Roman Roy which is heartbreaking to watch. While Sarah Snook's performance is also heartbreaking and filled with rage. Though limited in screen time, Brian Cox still delivers an abusive performance but with a touch of emotional vulnerability that Logan Roy has never exhibited before. Outside the family, Matthew Macfadyen will most likely earn his second Emmy award with his performance. Again like everyone else, his balance between anger and depression/loneliness is insane. Plus, when Nicholas Britell's outstanding score is added to these scenes, you have yourself a masterpiece.

Overall, Succession is a modern marvel of storytelling and filmmaking. It is a modern Greek Tragedy that encompasses Greek and Shakespearian literature in masterstroke perfection. This series will be studied for not decades but centuries to come.

At least one thing is clear. This year's Emmy Awards are going to be everybody VS. Succession.

[aotopmha]

The Shadow Generations addition to Sonic Generations frustrates me because it does the thing Sonic Superstars did and feels way too overpriced for what it is going for.

Part of the reason I've yet to play Superstars is because everywhere I look, it's still priced at full and as far as I know they've done nothing to iron out the frustrating and inconsistent aspects of the game.

Doesn't help the Sonic re-releases have been absolute messes, from Origins to Sonic Colors.

Currently I see plain Sonic Generations sold for half (or in fact less) of current full game price and I think that's the perfect price for that game, but Shadow Generations + the original game is once again (almost) full price.

The footage they've shown of the Shadow gameplay is great, but will it be worth that (almost) full game price?

Frontiers has some cool stuff going for it, but it also had so much mess in it.

And yes, that's the entire history of 3D Sonic. But it's the wierd sll-encompassing messiness of the recent releases that gets me.

Inconsistent music, odd graphics, as well as massive amounts of bugs. As frustrating as Sonic Heroes was with its controls and bugs, it wasn't inconsistent in terms of literally everything else as well, so I could enjoy a bunch of it despite the issues I had with the game.

They make new games that are messes and old, cool games worse.

And I think it's finally getting to me as a fan after all of these years.

The last 3D Sonic game I truly loved and absolutely played to pieces was Generations.

And the last 2D game I loved and played a bunch was Sonic Mania.

The two each released in 2011 and 2017, 13 and 7 years ago respectively.

And since then every Sonic game has either looked like a hyper-product-y/hyper-inconsistent mess (Forces, Lost World, Colors Ultimate, Origins) or something potentially super neat buried in massive amounts of frustrating gunk with also pretty product-y elements and massive inconsistency (Frontiers/Superstars).

So I'm left waiting for Frontiers 2 or Superstars 2 because they finally seem to be somewhat serious about having another formula and refining it, as they promised with Sonic Unleashed back in 2008 and now after Forces in 2017, with Frontiers being the first step.

There are other ways to get games, of course, and considering those ways, I would probably have a decent time with the latter two (Frontiers/Superstars), but I just want a game that's just good (not even great) all the way through.

Or at least looks that way for me to want to try it based on footage and reviews.

And Shadow Generations actually does look like that!

Just building upon boost formula while incorporating lessons from new games.

But it's also another one among the (almost) full price re-releases/remasters, which at this point have an absolutely horrendous history in terms of actual quality.

Maybe, just maybe the movies doing great and Frontiers doing well enough will finally show itself in the quality of the games themselves.

I've technically been a passive fan since I got into the series with the Advance, Classic and Rush series and from there loved the Adventure games + Heroes.

And then the boost games – Colors and Generations.

But I just want something solid like that again that might even have sometimes very frustrating issues, but was a complete, consistent package.

And right now, the recent history is just really bad, in fact, it's bad to the point where people are amazed when we get actual level design from levels and I feel like that's not a very good place to be for a platforming game series.

Shadow as a character has always been that "teenage uncool" kind of "cool", but still kind of fun edgy character that I can see 13-year-olds absolutely loving, but I at most just kind of liked like any other character, while my faves back then were always Sonic, Amy and Tails, with Knuckles as the fun fourth friend.

But I think Adventure 2 did what Shadow's character was going for really well and Shadow 05 did that same thing really badly; in this case, though, Shadow is really just used to make more boost levels in Generations, which I welcome.

Loved actually playing Shadow in Sonic Adventure 2 because it was just more speed levels. I must've played those levels hundreds if not thousands of times because I had so much fun with them.

And that's basically all of Generations except maybe the last level.

So if they just make some really solid additional Generations levels, that's all it takes for this to be good.

But as said above, this is a Sonic game remaster being made in 2024, so there's a pretty big chance it's a massive mess on all fronts.

But I'll wait for lower prices and sales and hope for the best.

[dystinjohnsoncriticalcontext]

EMAIL SENT TO TERRY FROST FAMILY

Hello

I’d be everso grateful for your personal help in identifying and accessing a particular Terry Frost painting which would be suitable for my needs…

After six years of study as a mature art student at The University of Creative Arts, Canterbury, I’ve returned to Terry Frost’s work for my final Fine Art, BA dissertation. Terry’s legacy encompasses so many aspects of my own developing art practice, and personal self-investigation - I’m passionate to get started.

I wish to write about abstract painting through the lens of an individual Frost painting. I sense this would be an exciting way to explore all I wish to convey; the history of abstract art; the psychology of the sensory and emotional effects of form and colour; control vs chaos; optimism and the creation of beauty in the face of personal and collective trauma.

All of the above - and more - I see, love and admire in Terry’s work. (In my own practice, I am interested in exploring the area between gesture and hard edge - I use these tensions metaphorically to tell stories - I came to art myself after having experiences of trauma - I feel that the use of geometric forms in my practice is the most effective way of expressing personal and social dilemma)

Now, I need and would appreciate your help in finding a specific painting which clearly reflects these themes. (I would prefer to use a painting over a print - purely so I can examine the choices of brushstroke and weight of applications)

Can you suggest a painting where gesture and geometric shape are used in juxtaposition? Where forms shift and evolve with gravitational pull? A painting from the ‘Movement’ series’ for example would be perfect. I’m particularly excited by those! Or another mid-fifties piece, like Red, Black and White 1956?

Now, this needs to be a painting I can view in person. Understandably, it’s been made clear to me that I must be able to visit my choice, preferably more than once; therefore, the painting for my dissertation will be completely dictated by which piece I can get access to - perhaps one on public display in London, in a personal collection where the owner is open to my visiting or if the family have ownership and wouldn’t mind me spending an hour respectfully gawking in awe..?

If you wish to look at my art school journey so far, you can see my progress on instagram @dystin.johnson.art

Genuine thanks for your time and any consideration you can give to my request.

Cheers,

Dystin Johnson

[duskholland]

Settle || Mob!Tom Smut

summary ↠ distance may make the heart grow fonder, but you’d spend every day by tom’s side if you could. warnings ↠ a bit of angst, and this is just.... so fucking smutty.... pwp but make it 8k of smut... 18+ minors dni !!!!!!!!!!! extended nsfw warnings below the cut <3 word count ↠ 11.7k. a/n ↠ lads... lost my mind I’ve lost it. the mob!tom energy has been absolutely overwhelming for the last month, and this has been a long time coming. thank you esquire. thank you gq. thanks tom too, I guess, even though his handsomeness is a double-edged sword. also thanks to chloe for motivating me to write this lmao. this was a lot of fun!! softness sweetness debased animalistic crazy stuff. we love to see it. lmk what you think !! <3 ***this is a part of my mob!tom series – a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense! 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ praise kink, breeding kink, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, crying, biting, spitting, oral + fingering (fem receiving), unprotected sex (the long-awaited return of cum-dumpster!reader), minor d/s dynamics ft soft!dom!tom, possessiveness in the dirty talk, and I wouldn’t say it’s degradation but there is some patronisation lmao. this is intense loving passionate consuming smut, esp the second section. pls practice safe sex irl x

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧ *:･ﾟSETTLE･ﾟ:*✧

Tom is wrapped around you, his rich scent overpowering each one of your senses. He consumes you. He becomes you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck and your legs swung either side of his thighs, you’re clinging tightly to him. One of his hands rests beneath the shirt on your back, the tips of his fingers slowly stroking up and down your spine, and you can feel the firm press of his nose against the side of your head. His face nestles against your hair as he holds you to the warm skin of his neck. Every few minutes, Tom pulls away from the documents and spreadsheets resting on his desk and litters the side of your temple with short kisses.

There’s a persistent throbbing between your legs, but it’s worth it. Tom’s cock is buried inside you, his length enveloped by your silky heat. You can feel him, bearing in on every intimate space of your cunt. In your aroused state, you swear you can make out the lines of his bulbous head and the curves of his veins as they press up against your sensitive walls. You’re pulsing—every slight movement made by either you or him causing you to gasp softly and cling closer to your boyfriend.

“God, darling,” Tom murmurs, accented voice hanging low and heavy. He strokes over your back again, and you hear him click his ballpoint pen. When he tosses the heavy metal object back onto the desk, he sits back in the wide office chair that the two of you are precariously balanced on. You aren’t scared of falling off—you’ve done this before, countless times. You know that he’s got you. “So fuckin’ snug, aren’t you?”

You pull away from your boyfriend’s neck, sucking in a rough breath as you sit up to face him and receive the lightest of friction against your g-spot. As your teeth dig into your lower lip, you take a few moments to admire his ensemble—light white shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open, a delicate silver chain dangling over the golden expanse of his chest. He’s got his rings stacked over his fingers, and the bright metal pieces catch in your hair as he smoothes a hand across your cheek.

Tom smirks at you, his deep brown eyes flooded with lusting appreciation. With one hand on your face, the other slowly slides down your back, drifting over the loose shirt that covers your figure until it disappears between your legs. You cry out as his index finger reaches down to play with your clit, still wet and sensitive from his exploration earlier. He’d opened you up on his tongue before sheathing himself inside you.

“You just got so tight, angel,” he murmurs, voice raspy. “Do you like when I show you a bit of attention?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. You can barely keep your eyes open as he continues to toy with your bud. It’s hard to push down the temptation to start riding him, but you know that’s not the point of this. As much as you crave release and the opportunity to fall apart whilst being encompassed by Tom, there are other objectives at play. “I’ll miss this,” you admit. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know, my darling.” Tom’s expression briefly clouds over, some of the heat leaving his eyes. He rolls the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, a gentle pout curling across his lower lip. “I don’t want to leave you.”

You lick your lower lip, pushing back the hot lump of emotion that simmers in your chest. All week, you’ve felt apprehensive for his departure, anticipating today with unease. Tom is a good businessman, and usually he’s able to control his own empire from the comfort of his West London mansion. For so long, he’s been near you, lingering close, never trailing too far from your side. But there’s uncertainty in the air, and they need him out in Manchester for a few weeks to whip the boys back into shape. Until the supply issue is resolved, he’ll be away—away from you, and your bed, and the life that you’ve constructed so precariously together.

In this world of drugs and darkness, nothing is certain. You fall asleep beside Tom each night thankful that he’s safe, he’s here, he’s content. You know plenty of people who haven’t been afforded such a luxury. Your boyfriend has enemies who seek revenge and retribution, and their greedy eyes follow him from every direction. They’re like wolves, every single one of them—suppliers, rivals, the law—waiting in the shadows, preparing to pounce at the first sign of weakness.

You shouldn’t love him. He’s not a good man. Tom has told you as much repeatedly—in his deprecating words, in the underhanded dealings that go on around your dinner table, through his violent actions against opponents. But he loves you, and he is a good man, to you, and maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe you can take the pain and the darkness, because it affords you a glimmer of light in the form of your boyfriend. Tom holds you at the very centre of his universe, and as he cups your face in a gentle hand and coaxes you in for a sweet kiss, you know you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your life may be characterised by uncertainty, but there is no doubt in the way that he loves you, so recklessly and fiercely. He gives you everything that he has without hesitation.

The kiss grows deeper, and you moan into Tom as he presses his tongue into your mouth. He’s still rolling your clit beneath his thumb, and you reach up to grab fistfuls of his hair. When he’d pulled you into the office earlier and begged you to spend time with him, it’d come with the caveat that you need not distract him from his final pieces of work. He seems to have abandoned that decision now, as he ruts up into you when you groan into his mouth.

“Sweet love,” he purrs, voice darker. Tom squeezes your cheek, the cool metal of his ring pressing to your skin as he holds you tightly. He releases your face a moment later, fingers shifting to your waist as his lips grace over the tender part of your face. “God, I’ll miss you. Miss this fuckin’ cunt.” He kisses down from your cheek, shifting back and towards your ear. You release a wispy moan as he finds your tender spot, sucking harshly against the skin then soothing the ache with his hot tongue. “So perfect for me.”

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, mind slow. Tom holds your hip slowly and encourages you to move, and both of you release sounds of enjoyment as you begin to ride him. Your entrance aches, stretched wide around his girth, but as his finger rubs persistent circles across your bud, it soothes into pleasure. “Fuck, Tom… You fill me up completely. You’re in so deep.”

“I know, darling,” he murmurs. When you toss your head back and start to move faster, he’s quick to attach his lips to your neck. “Tightest little thing,” he adds, voice scalding against your ear. “I know I’ll be dreaming of you, angel. Every single night.”

You cry out as he helps you shift slightly to the side, optimising your pleasure. As the crown of Tom’s cock rubs up against your back wall, you shudder, breath hitching. The sounds of your heat, so wet and silky, being fucked repeatedly as you come down on him again and again spurs you on. It grows wild quickly, Tom leaving your neck and sitting back in his chair just to watch you ride him so perfectly. His eyes are dark and passionate, and his gaze so intense that it’s as if he’s trying to burn the memory to mind.

“I don’t think I can hold it,” you admit, eyes threatening to roll back. After sitting on his cock for fifteen minutes, you were already riled up. Now, you’re on cloud nine. Pleasure has your toes curling, the muscles in your thighs tensing and straining as you cling to the back of Tom’s head and tug on his curls. “T-Tom.”

“That’s it, gorgeous. Say my name.”

His ring digs into your side, spurring you on. As the cool metal nicks at your skin, the coil in your stomach tightens further.

“Oh,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut. No longer able to see Tom’s handsome face, you’re left only with the sensations, pulsing out from your centre. You’re on the verge, inching closer with every time Tom pulls you back onto his cock. He works you open, thrusts into you deep, leaves you gasping.

“C’mon, pretty baby,” he murmurs, hot lips moving forward to press at your neck. “Make me cum. I know you want it, don’t you?”

A throaty groan travels past your lips as you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’d stopped taking birth control a week ago, and though both of you know that the chances of you falling pregnant so soon after ending those hormones are slim, the possibility is there. Sex now feels dangerous, the extra weight to it filling you with arousal and excitement.

“Yes,” you whimper. “Please.”

Tom nips at your ear, the bite of pain making you moan.

“Go on,” he coos, voice sweet, sultry. “I’m going to fill you up, darling. Give you something to remember me by.” His hand slips from his waist and travels to your lower stomach, resting there. “Right here,” he adds. “Do you want it, love? You need to work for it. Cum on my cock, mm? Let me feel how desperate your tight little pussy is for my cum.”

Tom snaps his hips up to yours, and a few moments later, you peak. Your climax burns through you, your walls clamping down around his length in a way that makes him groan loudly. You open your eyes to watch his face seize up, freezing with pleasure and enjoyment as his jaw tenses and his eyes squeeze shut. You feel his cock pulsing as you continue to move over him, lost in the pleasure that spirals out from your cunt and your clit. His pants are laboured too.

When you come down from it, you settle in his lap, sweaty palms grasping at his face. Tom pulls you closer, wrapping you up in his arms as he presses his forehead to yours. His nose bumps against yours, tip warm. Every part of him is warm.

“I love you so much,” he says, voice serious. “More than you could ever imagine, Y/N.”

You smile. “I love you too,” you whisper.

Tom pulls back from you to pepper his lips across your face, dusting every inch of your skin with his mouth. You’re still connected at your centre, and you know the moment you stand, you’ll feel the evidence of his love dripping down your thighs.

“I—”

A rough knocking sound bursts into the room, hard knuckles drumming over the office door. You jump, and Tom’s brows crease. He brings both of his hands to cover your ears and kisses the tip of your nose before sitting up a little straighter.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hollers, voice terse. He’s muffling the volume with his palms, but you still wince, and he kisses your nose again in penance.

“Sir, we have to go. The men are waiting—”

Tom’s face ripples with irritation. You watch the vein stand out in his neck, fading only when his eyes sweep back to your face. He deflates as he brings his lips down across your forehead.

“I’ll be two minutes,” he barks back. “Now piss off. I’m with my girl.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom peels his hands away from your ears, then rubs each one of your earlobes with the soft pads of his thumbs. “Sorry about that, my darling,” he mumbles, shadows covering his features. His teeth dig into his lower lip as he sighs. “I need to go.”

You feel your face fall, and break eye contact when the intensity of his gaze grows too much. “Okay,” you mumble.

“Hey.” Tom grasps your chin between his index and his middle finger. “I’ll come back to you,” he promises. You know he can feel your reluctance to let him go, can see it on your face without you having to verbalise it. You wonder if he’s been able to tell how unsettled you feel about the whole ordeal, and if maybe that’s why he’s let you be more clingy this week.

“What if you don’t?” you breathe out, unable to keep it in. You blink a few times, trying to hide the watery film of tears that shakes across your eyes. “What if something happens to you whilst you’re away, and you don’t come home?” You reach down and grab at his shirt, clenching your knuckles around the crisp material. “Tom, you are my home. I don’t know what I’ll do if—”

“I’ll come back, baby.” He kisses you softly, a few fingers brushing up beneath your chin and tilting you to him. “I always will. I promise. I’m a man of my word, so you know that’s true.”

You manage a thin smile, heart aching even as Tom cups your face in his hands. “I love you,” you say finally. “And I’ll be waiting for you to get back.”

Tom nods. His cheeks are still flushed, and his hair is a mess, but the fire in his eyes is undeniable. When he deposits a light kiss to your cheek and then lets his lips brush you against your earlobe, you know that he’ll be back. You know he’d never fail you.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A month passes. You miss Tom desperately.

For the first three weeks, you manage to control the sadness in your chest. Finding distraction in your job and your friends, you’re able to forget about the giant Tom-shaped hole in your heart. He lingers on, though, his love persistent even in his absence. Despite finding certain ways to limit your anguish, like daily calls, and soaking your wrists in his cologne each morning, the time only worsens your heartache. You’re miserable without him.

In the fourth week, it reaches the point where you can no longer pretend you aren’t aching for him. You miss him in a way you’ve never felt before, his absence from your home like a sharp spire ever-present in your chest, burrowing deeper every lonely morning. Tom can’t ease you, doesn’t know himself when he’ll be able to come home. The job he’s had to do has spiralled, with mutinous men and delayed shipments, and it’s in too precarious a position for him to leave and come back to you. When you’d suggested visiting, he’d immediately wiped that option from the table, citing the acts of violence and uneven atmosphere as too great a risk to take. You understand it, but you miss him, and it permeates every part of your life.

It’s late Tuesday night, and in a fitless trance, you find yourself walking up to the third floor of the mansion. When you’d moved in, almost a year ago, Tom had tried to make you feel as comfortable as possible. In his efforts, he’d installed an art studio for you to use. The gesture went in tandem with his greatest gift to you so far—your very own art gallery, right in the centre of London. The studio is a large room, framed with huge windows which overlook the sprawling estate. Tonight, all you can make out is the dim driveway and the crescent moon, hanging thinly in the sky.

After turning on some music and slipping on your painting apron, you take your place in front of your easel. As you stare at the blank canvas, your fingers shift up to absently run the line of Tom’s ring. It hangs on a chain around your neck, silver and bold. You hadn’t realised that he’d left it with you until you’d reached into your pocket the day of his departure and found it sitting there. You know the matching ring stays wrapped around his pinky finger, and it brings you a sense of comfort to trace the smooth band and feel connected to him, even in a small way.

You decide to paint Tom, trying to coax him to life from your memories. Shades of gold and brown take form over your canvas. With every brush stroke and flick of your wrist, you feel lighter, some of the ache lessening.

Hours pass, interrupted only by the ringing of your phone. Biting back a small curse word as you feel your concentration shatter, you put your paintbrush down and tug your phone from your back pocket. Your frown fades as you see Tom’s name, flashing on the screen besides an image of his face.

“T,” you greet, the relief in your voice obvious even to you. “Hey.”

There’s silence for a few moments, then his voice crackles down the line. “Hi, darling,” Tom speaks. “It’s not too late to talk, is it?”

You glance up at the ornate clock sitting on the wall. The feature is grand and solid gold, matching the themes of the rest of his house. Tom likes decadence. His luxurious touch is evident in the patterns of red, black, and metals that cling to each article of furniture. When you see that it’s 2am, you blink a few times, shaking off your surprise as you realise how much time has passed since you’d started to paint.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I’m painting.”

“Ahhh.” You hear the rustling of sheets, and you imagine Tom in bed. He’s probably bundled up in sweats and a hoodie, sprawled out across his mattress. The house in Manchester always runs cold, and you’ve heard his complaints consistently for the last few weeks. The image of him resting up against the headboard, pouting from beneath a pile of blankets makes you smile. “What are you working on?”

You smile into your phone, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “You,” you tell him. “Just your eyes at the moment, and the outline of your hair.”

“Me again?” Tom speaks, and his tone is like soft velvet, gentle and crushing at the edges. “I’m flattered, darling.”

“Mmm.” You fiddle with his ring. “I’ll need to dedicate a wall to you in the gallery. You’re my favourite muse.”

Tom chuckles. “That’d be an honour,” he says, voice dropping in volume. “It’s a privilege to be loved by you.” His voice twangs sadly, and you feel yourself frowning.

“Are you okay, baby?”

He’s quiet for a few moments. You find yourself biting your lip.

“Yeah,” he says, voice thicker. “Long day.”

“What did you do?”

He sucks in a harsh breath, air catching on the back of his teeth. “Can we just talk about you for a minute?”

Worry furrows your brow. “Okay,” you say, drawing out the syllable as you scramble for words to fill the gap. “Today I visited your mother.”

“Oh?”

“She wanted me to show her how I made those biscuits, from your birthday last year?” You pause until he makes a noise of recognition. “Ended up staying there for a while, had some tea. Gossiped about you.”

Tom snorts. “Learn anything good?”

“Only that you were just as much of a terror as a child,” you reply. “She sent me photos. I’ll text them to you later.”

It’d been a sobering experience to see Tom so animated and innocent as a child, but you don’t tell him that. So much as changed since he was seven and running through a field with his brothers. He has lost more than you could ever fathom.

“Did she show you the one with my head half shaved?”

You laugh. “Yeah,” you say, smiling against the phone. You’re holding the device tightly in your fingers, clinging to it almost desperately. “I can’t believe Harry did that to you.”

“Well, I did piss him off,” Tom reasons. “I got him back, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck yeah, darling. Put a bunch of, like, millipedes and creepy crawly things in his bed.” Tom pauses to laugh, his voice lighter. “He hated me for about a year after that. Tried to kill me with his eyes every time he saw me.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a nightmare,” you respond. “I’m seeing him at the weekend, and Sam. I can’t wait to get their perspectives on the demon you used to be.”

“I’m still a demon now, darling.”

“Yeah.” You lick across your lower lip, mind briefly darkening. He can be particularly devilish, whenever the mood strikes. “Love you, though.”

“And I love you.” Tom’s quiet again for a few moments, and when he speaks, his voice is gentle, “I love how much you like my family. It’s really special to me that you get along with them.”

You suck on your lower lip. “Of course,” you reply. “I love them. They… They feel like my brothers too, sometimes. Is that weird?”

“No.” You hear rustling again, followed by a soft grunt as he tries to find a better position to lay in. “Darling, family is everything to me, you know that. It’s a joy to see you fit in with my family, and I know they love you like a sister, too. Mum’s always saying how she sees you like a daughter.”

You glance up at your canvas, the shapes blurring with unshed tears. “She said that today, actually,” you murmur.

“Exactly.” Tom’s voice is passionate, alight and engaged. You can feel his strain. “You’re family.”

The air between you stills, and you wonder if he knows that you’re on the verge of tears, if he knows how grateful you are to him for inviting you into his life and letting you touch each piece of him without hesitation. The intricacies of his soul have gone so long unfelt, but he’s let you handle them, let you dust them off and admire them.

“Show me your art?” Tom adds, voice slightly thicker. “Please?”

“One sec.” You swallow down the hot lump of emotions that press at the back of your throat and pull your phone away from your ear. After briefly tousling your hair, you tap at the screen and enable the video setting. You flip the camera so it’s facing out in front of you, the canvas being framed by your phone screen. “This is what I’ve been doing today… Over there are the ones from the last few weeks.”

Tom spends a few minutes on a virtual tour of your studio, cooing soft words of endearment as you talk him through each piece. He’s tired, his voice often interspersed with soft yawns and grunts of fatigue, but he blows away all suggestions of disconnecting. Your tour takes you all throughout the house, showing him the slight alterations you’ve made to a few pieces of furniture in his absence. You end up in your bedroom, showing him the new blanket you bought for your bed.

“I want to see your face,” you whine, finally settling in bed. You’re laying on his side, head resting on top of the pillow that smells of him. Tom had watched you change into pyjamas, witnessed you brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. All you’ve had is a black screen. “How am I supposed to sleep without seeing you, Tommy?” You pout at the blank phone, trying really hard to get him to yield. It’s 3am now and you’re delirious with fatigue, but you’re craving him more than ever.

“I don’t look nice, though,” he complains. “I look ugly.”

You practically recoil at the words. You hope he can feel the ferocity in your gaze as you glare at your phone’s camera.

“You don’t,” you say. “You never look anything short of handsome.”

Tom chuckles. “You’re too kind,” he says, “but really. I got beat up a bit. My face is all…” He makes a sound of nonchalance. “Well.. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know the gory details.”

Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead at the word gory. “Show me,” you ask, voice softer. You snuggle further into bed, pulling the sheets further around your figure and trying to pretend you’re being hugged by your boyfriend instead of the feather down duvet. “Please, baby. I’m worried.”

Tom sighs. “Okay, but before I show you, you have to promise not to freak out.” As he sees your widening eyes, he adds. “Exactly! Don’t freak out! I’m fine. Can’t even feel it, the amount of painkillers I’m on. I’m alright.”

“...Okay.”

A few moments pass, and you hear him curse as he clumsily presses at the screen. When your phone lights up, showing a depiction of your boyfriend’s face, you have to bite back a gasp. Bruises cloud his left cheek, deep shades of red clinging to his cheekbone. There are scratches, too, riddled with scabs and lined with pink skin. The most obvious and upsetting sign of his injury however is his nose.

“Did you break your nose again?” you ask, voice soft. The skin beneath his eyes is bruising, and there’s a dark mark across the bridge of his nose.

“No, thank god,” Tom murmurs. “Just got hit on it.”

He’s laying in bed too, and you turn onto your side and prop him up on one of the pillows so it’s as if he’s laying beside you. With a dark burgundy hoodie pulled over his head, obscuring his curls, he looks pale and tepid. His cheeks are sunken, and it’s not just from the injury. Tom seems exhausted.

“Are you okay, apart from that?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay, Tom?”

He offers a weak smile. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” His voice fades with each iteration. You watch as Tom bites his lower lip, then reaches up to press his fingers into the tense lines of his pebbled forehead. “Just tired, darling. It’s been a busy week.”

“Come home,” you say, sleepy and wistful. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I can’t, my darling,” he mumbles. Tom’s eyes look at you sadly. “Things would fall apart.”

“You’re falling apart.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?”

Tom’s quiet for a while, and you watch him swallow. He gives you a tense nod, lips pulled into a frown. “I have to be.”

His words hurt you, but you know you shouldn’t push it further. Not with his eyes glassy and his chin twitching.

“You don’t,” you say softly. “Come home.”

Tom hums. His eyes are like two diamonds, holding the weight of the world, of a life so recklessly lived. His gaze skitters across your phone, and he arches a brow when he sees you stifle a yawn. “Goodnight, darling.”

You wish you could hold him, or touch him. You wish you could get anything more than the static and the empty bed.

“Night, Tom,” you whisper. “Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, baby.” Tom puckers up his lips and blows you a kiss. You return it, lips tweaking into a soft smile. “Love you more than anything.”

Your voice feels thick as you echo the sentiments. “Talk tomorrow,” you murmur, tired. “Love you.”

“Bye, bye, bye.”

You’re the one to disconnect, unable to take the imminent heartache that comes with being the last to say goodbye. Tom fades, and you let your phone fall over.

The pain returns, pressing into your heart. It’s raw and cold, and it makes you shiver. A few tears soak into the pillow that smells of him, cool against your hairline.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wake up the next morning, slowly at first, then all at once.

It’s light in your bedroom. Your sleepy mind wonders if you’d forgotten to draw the curtains when you’d crashed out last night. As you bemoan the bright light that hurts your closed eyes, you slowly twitch awake. Feeling an ache in your arm, you try to move, only to find something rendering you incapacitated. You frown in your tired haze, trying again to move, just to stay exactly where you are again. Your brows furrow next, and you slowly rouse to consciousness as you try to work out what’s going on.

Your heart rate spikes as you realise there are two arms wrapped around you. Warmth envelops you, pressing into your back, your legs, your waist. You jerk awake, panicking for a moment before you feel his lips on your shoulder, and smell the familiar scent of him.

“Shh, darling. It’s me.”

Immediately, you roll over, twisting in his arms until you’re looking at him. His eyes are soft, hair a mess, and he offers you the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Tom?!” you exclaim, voice catching in the back of your throat. “H-How— but—?”

Both of Tom’s hands go to your cheeks, and he pulls you in for a blinding morning kiss. You sigh as warmth fills every part of you, his lips washing away the angst and the sadness you’d felt just hours earlier. You moan into it, a soft rumble, and curl into him. As you run your hands over his bare form, you appreciate how his muscles are firm and supple beneath your fingertips. You map him out attentively, touch dipping into the shades of his muscles as you try to imprint him to your memory again.

When Tom breaks the kiss, he presses his lips to the tip of your nose. As his warm breath fans out across your face, he stares at you, eyes gentle. Keeping one hand on your cheek, Tom lets the other drift down. When he reaches your neck, he tugs at the chain you keep looped around your throat, his nimble fingers going to play with the ring on the end, still there, hanging between you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says slowly. He pulls on the chain and brings you in nearer, kissing you again, softly. “We said goodnight, and...”

Your hands are in his hair, gently stroking the mane from his face. It’s longer now, thicker and brighter than before. You push it away and look at his features. The bruises don’t seem as pronounced now, and you think he must’ve spent time in the sun. Light freckles dust the bridge of his nose, slanted and wonky but perfect nonetheless.

“Hmm?”

Tom licks his lips. “I couldn’t stay away any longer. I left it all to Haz.” Again, he steals your lips in a kiss. He follows up the action with several more, light dustings in quick succession. He tastes minty, and you wonder how long he’s been cuddling you. “I don’t care if we lose Manchester. I don’t care if we lose everything.” He swallows seriously. “I can’t lose you.”

“You were never going to lose me,” you whisper. You brush your thumb across his unscarred cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I missed you,” Tom whines. He drops his face, lips drifting down to suckle at the base of your neck. You giggle as he leaves tickling kisses all over your skin, mouthing at all the spots that make you laugh until he’s found his way up to your lips. With a hand on your jaw, fingers on your chin, he guides your face to look at him. “Time away gave me a lot of time to think,” he adds, voice drifting lower. A shadow of a doubt passes over his face. “I spent a long time pondering.”

“Yeah?” If he wasn’t holding you so tightly, you’d be concerned. Instead, you continue to muss your thumb across his cheekbone, gazing at him adoringly. “What were you thinking about?”

“Hmm. Well…” Tom lies back, sitting up with his elbow digging into the pillow as he turns to rest on his side. You mirror his position, stretching out your legs beneath the covers as a small yawn slips past you. “I realised that you’re the only person who makes a nice cup of tea. Even I can’t make one as well as you.”

You smile softly. “Don’t let Harrison hear that.”

He chuckles. “He’d be a bitch about it.” Tom’s eyes slide over your figure, gaze soft. You hum in quiet agreement, and he sucks in another breath. “I realised that no one else loves my friends like you do, and the same with my family.” Tom reaches out, hand slithering beneath the duvet until he finds your waist. His fingers are smooth, without the jewelry that usually adorns them. His calloused fingertips roll across your hip, and everything about the moment feels bare and authentic. “I love you now, and I know that I’ll love you forever.”

Something inside your chest clicks, and you find yourself looking at him a little differently.

“Where’s this all coming from?” you ask, looking at him, eyes wide.

“My heart.” Tom pulls you a little closer, and you think you see him swallow nervously. “C’mere, angel.” He turns and lays on his back, gently coaxing you to straddle him.

You settle over him, laying on top of his bare chest. He’s in boxers, and they rub up against your shorts as you shift around on top of him. Tom’s hair presses into the white pillow, wild and messy, but not unlike a halo. With the late morning sun highlighting his worn face with golden stripes, he looks ethereal.

“Darling,” he murmurs. “Gimme a kiss.”

You bend over, and Tom greets you with a warm open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re tired and groggy as he reaches out to cup your cheek, the other hand resting on your hip. You smile against his lips as his fingertips dip beneath the material of your shirt, rubbing light circles to your flesh as you sit up eagerly and press back in. His kisses feel like droplets of fire, setting off small chain reactions with each press of his lips to yours.

When you pull back to admire him, the chain around your neck goes swinging. Your eyes widen as you hear the thump of heavy metal colliding with Tom’s chin, followed by his soft grunt.

“Oh,” you exclaim, immediately feeling your face fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I always forget about the ring on the end.” You bend over to kiss his chin, then sit up straighter, hands absently travelling along the chain. The metal feels familiar beneath your fingertips, and you sigh softly. “I haven’t taken it off since you left,” you admit. “It was nice feeling connected to you, and the ring you left—”

The words die in the back of your throat when you reach for the ring and feel two instead of one, looped side by side on the chain. Confusion twitches across your face as you look down and inspect the piece of jewelry.

Tom’s ring is still on the chain, silver and bold, but sitting beside it is a dantier ring, the band thinner. It lacks the brash family crest that Tom’s harbours so proudly, and has a diamond as its centrepiece. Your fingers go to it immediately, and you find yourself trembling as you pull it closer to your face, inspecting the perfect cut of the sparkling diamond. It’s a large jewel, but it isn’t too flashy, and the ornate twisting of the band is beautiful.

You look back to Tom, who’s watching you with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Nerves shadow every one of his features, and it’s such a rare look on him that it takes you off guard.

“Angel,” he says slowly, reaching out to take one of your hands. “I love you. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together… I want to grow old with you by my side, and wake up to you each morning. I want to watch our kids muck around in the back garden, and I know… I know I’m not supposed to want these things. I don’t deserve them, and I’m being incredibly selfish even having you here with me right now, but I love you, and nothing will ever change that.” Tom squeezes your hand. “You’re the only woman in the world that I’d ever be able to love like this, and it would be the greatest honour of my life if you married me.”

You’re quiet for a few moments, processing his words. Entranced, you shake off his hand and reach up, tugging off the chain that hangs so heavily from your neck. You unpick the clasp and the necklace falls open, depositing both of the rings into the palm of your hand. They sit there, side by side, and you feel a tear skate down your cheek.

“Tom,” you say, voice thick with tears. “I’d love to marry you.”

The rings press into your palm as he hurries up to kiss you, smiling against yours lips. Tom’s nose nuzzles against yours, and when he pulls back, you see his eyes are red too.

“Thank fuck,” he murmurs. “I was so worried for a second that you were going to say no.”

Your laugh is light and vibrant, and you hold out your hand for Tom to pick up the engagement ring. As he slides the engagement band up your finger, you take his ring, chunky and heavy, and tenderly press it up his finger, joining it with his fourth finger instead of his index. You bend over to kiss the rise of his knuckles, then pull back as you feel him do the same to yours. Through blurry eyes, you bring your hand towards you and admire the gem as it sparkles there.

“In what world would I ever say no to this?” you muse, after a few moments. “I want to be with you forever, Tom. You know that.” Tom’s still looking at his ring, at where it joins at his knuckle, but he glances up when you drift nearer. “I came off birth control.”

His eyes darken slightly. “I know.”

You hold his face in his hands. “You’re silly,” you say. You peck his cheek. “I need to brush my teeth,” you decide. You know exactly where this is going, and you want it to be perfect.

Tom pouts, but he helps you up from his lap. He watches you walk across the room, and his gaze stays on you as you keep the door to the en-suite open and start to brush your teeth. “Miss you, darling,” he calls out. You roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little faster. “You look ethereal.”

When you’re finished in the bathroom, you hurry back to bed. You find your way back into Tom’s lap, sinking into him to share a fresh kiss. “Tell me more about what you want with me,” you continue, voice darker.

With a determined smirk on his lips, Tom flips you. You release a huff of air as you find yourself laying on the mattress, head on the pillow, with him suspended above you. He plants a forearm on either side of your head and gazes down at you fondly.

“I want to settle down with you,” he says slowly. “Maybe start to divide my assets, give a little bit more power to Haz. I want to focus on you.” He pecks your lips before continuing. “I want to watch your gallery grow into the most successful place in London, and I want to be by your side at every opening. I want a big white wedding, with the cake, and the confetti, and the best honeymoon that’s ever been had. I am going to spoil you rotten.”

“You already do a very good job of that.”

“I’ll kick it up a level. I’ll have to. You’ll be my wife.” Tom’s face darkens. His hand shifts down to rest over your lower stomach. “We’ll need to wait for a lot of those things to happen, but there’s one thing that I want that we can start working on right now.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you feel the space between your legs throb. You tilt your head to the side as you stare up at his handsome face. “And what would that be?”

“Our heirs, darling.” He smirks when you whimper, warm fingers dipping beneath your shirt until he’s able to touch the flesh of your belly more directly. “I’m gonna fill you up with my babies, angel. Fuck you really good. ‘M gonna keep cumming until you’re full of me, then fuck you full again.”

You moan as he drops his face to your ear, suckling hard marks against your skin. “Fuck,” you murmur, burying your hands in his hair. “That sounds so obscene.”

“Yeah, but you like it, don’t you? You’re my dirty little thing, hm?” Tom bites at your neck, teeth nipping you and making you shiver. “I know you want me to cum in you so much that it drips down your thighs for hours after I’m gone. You want me to make a mess of your pretty cunt.”

“Please, Tom,” you whimper. You feel hot and bothered already.

“Eager, darling?” Tom sits back and gently reaches for the hem of your pyjama top. You bring your hands above your head as he gently tugs it up your arms, throwing it off to the side without thought. He crawls back over you and seizes your breasts in his hands, his metallic ring like a cool shock against your skin. When he nibbles at your nipple and follows up the action with a lap of his tongue, you whimper.

“Don’t be a tease,” you beg, squeezing your thighs together. “I need you, Tom. Haven’t been with you in so long.”

He looks up at you, tit held between his lips. Tom winks as he gives the bud a noisy suck, then pulls back to address the other. He keeps his thumbs busy, and as he moves away his mouth, he replaces his touch with the pad of his fingers, swirling his spit around your skin with ease.

“There’s no rush,” he announces. He keeps his hands on your breasts, kneading softly and stimulating your nipples as he knows you like, but his mouth starts to move. Tom trails light kisses down your form, keeping his eyes on yours. He observes you through darkened eyes. “Don’t whinge,” he adds, the tips of his teeth sparkling ravenously. “I’m going to fuck you so well you’ll cry, but not yet. Let me enjoy this.”

His promise makes you squirm, and Tom takes advantage of the fact your hips are off the bed and tugs your shorts and panties down your legs in one fell swoop. As you part your legs, you invite him closer, biting back a frown as Tom settles between your thighs but pays your legs attention instead of your centre. Your folds are slick already—you can feel them wet, hot, pulsing with more urgency the longer you spend watching your boyfriend’s muscles flex as he draws his lips across your figure.

Tom teases you, drawing out the moment until you’re quivering. His lips draw down to your shins, his whole body sliding down the bed until he’s just out of reach. You lean back against the pillow and try to enjoy it, revelling in the warmth that he dusts across your bare skin with each small kiss. Tom traces love hearts up your legs with his fingertips, drawing large ones over each one of your knees before tracing over the outline with his tongue. As his spittle cools over your skin, Tom finally parts your thighs.

“Such a pretty sight,” he moans, taking a moment to admire your glistening cunt. You think he’s going to dive straight in, but then he smirks, and you know that was just wishful thinking. Instead, Tom nuzzles his nose against the soft flesh of your inner thigh and goes back to kissing.

He’s needier now, moving with fervour. Sucking harshly, you know he’s marking your inner thighs, drawing an arrow towards your centre with a line of bruises. He delineates his journey, marking out the precise route he needs to take up to your sweet lips as if leaving instructions.

“Tom, please,” you moan. He’s so close to you that you can feel his hot breath coming out across you. He looks up at you and throws out a wild grin, his eyes bright and his smirk as bold as ever. “Please stop teasing me.”

He hums softly. “Okay, my darling,” Tom murmurs. You release a deep sigh of relief. “But only because I can’t go another second without tasting my pussy…” His thumbs gently move along your petals, light with his touch and teasing you until your cunt clenches around nothing. “You don’t mind if I’m a little rough, do you, angel?” He blinks up at you innocently. “I tend to get a little bit lost in you, but you know that by now, don’t you?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Give me anything… ‘m aching for you.”

Tom’s devilish smirk makes you wonder if giving him complete control was a good idea, but the thought goes flying from your mind as he nuzzles his face closer and finally indulges himself. Moaning loudly as he tastes you, his lips gradually envelop your clit, hot tongue lightly glancing off the engorged rise of the bud as you cry out. He’s wet with you, letting his tongue make your slit all messy.

Tom brings two slender fingers to your lips and parts them in a V. His nose brushes up against your clit as he slowly moves down. As the thick muscle of his tongue presses against your dewy entrance, he emits a low-pitched moan.

“God, darling,” he purrs. “Tastes even sweeter than usual.” As the vibrations of his words thrum over your cunt, you shiver and grab at his hair. One of Tom’s hands grabs at your inner thigh, pushing it up and opening you wider until he’s able to move deeper. You gasp as both of his thumbs shift down to hold your lips apart, tender petals parting easily.

As Tom slides his tongue into you, your eyes roll back in your head. You squirm against the sheets as wetness drips between your cheeks, a mix of your heat and his spit as Tom devours you. He moans against you, dragging his tongue against your tender walls. The sensations of his smooth muscle twisting against your sensitive pussy makes you shiver, and when he adds a thumb to your clit, you cry out loudly.

“Tom, oh fuck.”

He traces around your bud with a light finger, teasing the edge of the bud with his fingernail. Impatient and needy, you rut down against him, a choked sob bubbling up in the back of your throat. Your chest is heaving, your nipples perked and erect, and your fingers shake as you hold him to your heat. Tom seems to go deeper with each thrust of his tongue, moaning as he makes you messy, leaving no part of you untouched.

You call out a quiet warning, blind with lust and on the verge of tears. “‘M gonna cum,” you mewl. “Feels too good.”

He hums aggressively against you and dives deeper with his tongue, touching your clit until you peak. The feeling of your walls clenching and contracting against his face makes you whine, rutting down against him as you ride it out. Tom takes it, stays pliant as you grind onto his tongue, continuing to stimulate your passage until your back arches from the bed and you break into a hot sweat. When Tom pulls back, he’s quick to replace his tongue with two fingers, and the moan you release is garbled and excessive.

“T-Tom,” you cry out. He curls his index and middle finger into you with ease, his fourth dropping down to rest between your cheeks. You can feel the metal of his heavy silver ring, cool against your skin. “S’too much.”

He finally looks up at you after an eternity admiring your heat. His eyes are wide and feral, his chin coated in your juices. You whimper as you see streaks of white cum clinging to the early morning shadow of his chin. Tom grins inquisitively as he thrusts his fingers faster, your heat so slick and open that the movement draws out loud noises.

“I don’t think it’s too much, darling,” he mumbles. “I think you’re being my good girl, hm? We’ve barely started.” He drops his lips and nuzzles further between your legs, looking up at you with your clit held loosely in his mouth. He gently laps across the rise before releasing it and pressing a light kiss to the engorged bud. “I’m going to make you cum so much you forget your name, lovie. Gonna show you how much I appreciate you today and for every other day of our lives.”

You like the sound of that, and your cunt throbs persistently as Tom curves his fingers up and his fingertips brush against your ridged g-spot. As your hips threaten to spasm from the bed again, Tom sits up and shifts his arm, so it weighs down your lower stomach. “More,” you decide, hearing your heat prickle as Tom speeds up his fingers.

He adds his ring finger, and you cry out as the smooth band of metal presses up against your entrance. The contrast of cold against the ravaging fire of your hole is almost orgasmic in itself.

“Pretty little pussy,” he muses. “Need to stretch you out for my cock, da’ling. Haven’t taken me in so long, I don’t want to hurt you when I stuff you full.”

You’re so wet. You can feel the flat of Tom’s hand coated in your arousal, hear your heat as he fucks you. You try to pay attention to him, but you find yourself slipping when he drops his lips back to your bud and starts to suck on it. As Tom traces incessant circles over your clit, he alternates between long laps of his tongue and more focused kitten licks. Your desperate fingers curl around the silky sheets as you recognise that he knows your cunt well, and he’s learnt the right angle and depth that he needs to travel to in order to get you to the edge. He’s persistent and ruthless in the pursuit of his objective.

You peak for the second time as he curls his fingertips up against your tender g-spot, moaning around your clit under you’re crying out. Your eyes burn with tears as you call out his name, voice clouded by curse words and desperate sounds of enjoyment. You’re loud, thrashing in the sheets until he has to reach up and press you into place, not moving as he continues to stimulate you through it. It feels unending—an eternal tunnel of throbbing pleasure, your cunt squeezing his digits until it’s almost too much.

When you grow too sensitive, you tell him as much, and Tom pulls back to reach blindly for your hand. He finds it, then separates from your mound. His fingers slowly slip from your aching cunt, causing you to gasp, but he softens it out by kissing over the knuckles of your other hand, then your lower stomach.

“Perfect, angel,” he coos. Tom pushes your legs shut again, being careful not to hurt you as he crawls on top of you. He squeezes your hand as he continues to kiss all over your stomach, hips and chest, retracing his tracks from earlier until he finds your nipples. You moan as he laps at both of them messily before moving up to your face and kissing you intensely. His tongue tastes of your juices, your arousal sticking to his tongue. The tangy hue sticks to your own mouth, and you moan as you taste it.

“God, I love kissing you,” he murmurs against you, voice rumbling into you. Tom gasps your face with his clean hand, holding you tightly. “Could do this for the rest of my life.”

You’re hungry as you chase him, body tired but craving more. As Tom starts to roll his hips against yours, the press of his length to your centre makes you excited.

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit. The blend of you and him makes you feel ravenous.

“Really?” Tom sits up, his face flickering with enjoyment as you start to grind up against his hips. He circles his waist against yours, both of you enjoying the little pleasure until you find the capacity to nod. “You’re nice, aren’t you?”

You lick your lips, watching the way he stares at you. “Yeah,” you say. “Tastes of you, too.”

Tom reaches up, and with the hand still covered in your juices, he feeds three fingers into your mouth. You moan around them as he imitates thrusting motions, smearing your cum over your tongue. There’s a metallic twang as he pushes deeper, his ring brushing up against the tip of your tongue as he fucks towards your throat. The taste makes you shiver.

“There you go, clean me up,” he coaxes. He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before hovering above you. Tom’s eyes, dark and hungry, shift down to your lips, and he raises a brow. “Such a pretty mouth. Wish I had time to fuck it, too, but shit… I need to be in you, darling.”

When he pulls his fingers from your mouth, you feel empty. Your tongue is light—too light. A pout settles over your lips.

“Why are you frowning?” Tom adds as he sits back on his shins. You sit up a little straighter, strength regained as you watch him move around and shed his boxers. You almost moan as you watch his cock spring free, tall and flushed red. You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“Feel empty without you,” you respond.

Tom slides over you again, and you part your legs. With ease, he slots himself between your thighs, his throbbing crown resting against your clit as your wet lips envelop the rest of his member.

“Well, you’re going to be very full soon,” he murmurs, looking up to kiss your jaw. He waits above your lips, quirking a brow. “Open, then, if you’re so needy.”

Your teeth catch your gnawed lower lip before you follow instruction, opening your mouth for him. Tom presses one of his hands against your shoulder as he leans up. He rests a thumb to your chin and looks down at you, eyes glimmering with mischievousness as he puckers his lips and hums. A moment later, Tom spits into your mouth, his dirty spittle falling onto your tongue. He groans at the sight, and you reach up to grab at his broad shoulders as the heat of the possessiveness rolls over you. Tom chases his action with a deep kiss, his fingers rolling back down to pull up your thigh and open you for him.

As he enters you, it’s a smooth movement. Everything flows together—your tongues, your bodies, your hearts. Tom’s able to guide himself inside you almost seamlessly, and you’re so aroused already that the stretch is comfortable.

“Fuck,” you gasp, falling back from his lips.

“Oh, god,” Tom groans. “That’s it. Fuck yeah.” He kisses you again as he slowly pulls out, sliding back into you with ease. His lips are hot as they rest on yours, unmoving as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“You’re so big,” you whimper, eyes rolling back as he continues to thrust into you. Tom’s building it up slowly, rutting deeply against your heat as his member explores your walls. It’s a little clumsy before he establishes a rhythm, his groove coming back after a few weeks apart, but when he gets it right, it feels otherworldly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, dropping his face against your shoulder. You bury your hands in his hair, fingers tensing around his strands when he bites at your skin. “Love of my life,” he coos. “Love this pussy more than life itself. Love you more than anything.”

Overwhelmed, you hum, the sound twisting into a gasp as he grinds against you and the crown of his flushed length hits your sensitive spot. “God, yeah,” you agree. “Feels so good, Tom. Go deeper.”

He obliges you for a few moments before his rhythm fades, and he stills with his cock stuffed deep within you. Your fingers play with his hair as you feel him kiss your shoulder, then follow up the action with a lap of his tongue.

“I want you on top, darling,” Tom grunts, words smearing against your neck. He’s panting, hot breath making your skin wet. “Need to see my beautiful wife.” You clench around him, and you feel him chuckle into your shoulder.  “C’mere,” he coaxes. “I’ll help you up.”

It’s dizzying to readjust, but as soon as you’ve taken your place in Tom’s lap, you feel better. You’re impossibly close, able to watch his face constrict with pleasure every time you lower yourself on him. He’s got his head thrown back against the headboard, half-closed eyes watching you, ringed-fingers digging into your hips.

“Tom,” you whimper. “Feels so good.” Your eyes are rolling back, your body trembling as he helps you move. With each bounce down, Tom ruts his hips up to meet you, and when you shift slightly to the side and lean forward, his tip brushes up against your spot. Arcs of electricity zing through your centre, adding layers to your enjoyment.

“The way that you look right now should be breaking the law,” he says, voice held tight. Tom grabs one of your tits in his palm, roughened thumb toying with the nipple until you squirm. “You’re stunning, angel. All mine…” he drops down to kiss at the base of your neck. “Mine forever.”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m yours,” you stammer, voice hitching as his index finger trails back down to your bud. It knocks you off balance how quickly your third high threatens to surge across you.

Tom sees it on your face, growls as he feels you clench around him. “Come on, darling. Give me another one.” His greedy fingers continue to move your hips as the others play around with your clit. The bud tingles, stimulated beyond anything you’ve felt before, but the ache makes it better. “Always the prettiest when you cum, angel. Make the prettiest sounds too. Go on, my love. Let me hear you sing for me.”

It takes a few moments for you to peak, and when you do, you go loose in Tom’s arms. It ripples over you like a blur, your limbs feeling equal parts boneless and taut. Everything fades, pulled back to the bare primal motions of orgasm, warmth spreading through your entire body until it consumes you.

No sooner have you finished your release does Tom scoop you up in his arms and press you back against the mattress. He continues to drill into you, moving roughly against you, grinding his hips into you. Both of you are sweaty, and the space between your legs is sticky from all the aroused fluids that you’ve released, but he doesn’t care. He buries himself in your heat, losing himself in the feelings as you claw at his back, unable to comprehend the pleasures of overstimulation on a scale as intense as this.

“You’re okay, yeah?” Tom says, pulling away from your neck to stare at you. You’re slack-jawed and panting, but you nod. He likes to push you, and you like being stretched to your limits, but he never does it cruelly. He’s always attentive as he picks you apart, slowly breaking you open until you’re shattered into pieces that only he can reassemble. There’s love behind everything he does with you.

“Yeah,” you manage, voice broken. Hot tears of enjoyment pool in your eyes, a muffled groan leaving you when Tom reaches for your thigh and tugs it open roughly. You curl your leg around his back, allowing him in completely, and as you gain that familiar friction back against your g-spot, you melt against the sheets.

“You know what I’m going to do, angel?” Tom grunts. He’s heavy on top of you, body a blur as he fucks you harder, faster, deeper. “I’m going to get your initials tattooed on my ring finger, so you’re there even without the ring.” He stares down at your face, love swirling in his frenzied eyes. “I’m going to—fuck, I’m gonna fuck you so good for the rest of your life, darling. I promise you that. Yeah.” He nuzzles at your cheek, hot breath panting across your skin as he drops his voice to a gritty whisper. “I’m gonna love you, cherish you, fucking adore you… Gonna put a baby in you.”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Tom slows his thrusts, his hips stammering in a way suggestive of the way he’s near a peak and wants to put it off. With an intensity that you’ve never seen before, he reaches down, balancing on his strong arms until he’s able to rest his hot palm against your lower stomach. He presses against your skin as he thrusts into you a few more times, slowing but burying himself deeper.

“Can you feel me?” he says. “I’m in so deep, darling. I can feel everything. Such a wet pussy. So greedy.”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “You’re so big, T. I can’t think about anything else.”

“Mmm, good, ‘cos you’re the only thing I’m thinking about right now.” He dances his fingers across the soft skin of your stomach, contrasting the gentleness as he drops his head to the crook of your neck and nips at your skin. “Can’t wait to fill you up,” he admits roughly. “Thought about it every night I was away.”

“Yeah?” You brush your hands through his sweaty hair, tugging as he drives a little deeper.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Go on, touch your clit.” Tom waits until you’ve done as instructed to continue with his musings. “Thought about how you’ll look, belly all swollen with my cum. I love those pretty whimpers you make when I pull out, and my seed pours down your thighs. Can’t wait to fuck it back into you until you’re crying.”

“—oh god,” you whine.

“Mm, yeah. I felt you clench then, darling. I know how much you like the idea of taking fuckin’ everything I give you.” Tom presses firmer against your lower stomach, accompanying the action with a particularly hard rut. “You’re gonna feel me here, lovie, right in your womb. Gonna stuff you to the fucking brim until there’s no chance you aren’t pregnant. Gonna fill you with my babies, give us the heirs we both deserve.”

“Please,” you beg, voice broken. It’s overwhelming in the best way, your bud rebelling as you toy with it. But you’re persistent, matching the deep rolls of Tom’s hips as you feel another climax stir in the pit of your stomach. Everything feels so fluid and wet that it’s hard to tell where you stop, and Tom begins. He’s tangled up so completely in you that he has become part of your existence. “Please, Tom, I want it.”

“What do you want?” Tom teases. He’s a devil, looks up to smirk at you. You can feel how badly he wants to snap into release just from the way he’s controlling his thrusts, but he isn’t going to cave until he gets exactly what he wants. “Use your words, gorgeous girl. I know you can do it.”

He’s in so close, lips on your cheeks, chin, nose, and lips. His heat envelopes you, clouding your brain. With each nudge of his tip deeper against your walls, you get closer to losing it, clinging to the firm muscles of his back like it’s your only lifeline.

“Give me it all,” you choke out. “I want it, Tom, deep in me. Want you to fill me up with your cum.” His curls are sweaty as you reach up to fist your trembling hands in them, entirely at his mercy. “Wanna feel you lose yourself in me.”

“Mmm, okay, baby,” he groans. His voice is broken, thick and tired from exertion. He kisses you roughly, all tongue and teeth, the noisy meshing sounds of your lips mingling with the chaos of his hips slapping down against yours. “Oh fuck,” he pulls away to say. “Oh fuck. Oh—”

With a heavy grunt, Tom finally spills. He releases a loud groan, hips snapping forwards with an animalistic force as he drives his cock deeper, shaft pulsing as your walls squeeze around him. You cry out, cumming for the fourth time. Your climax feels like the main attraction, as if every other orgasm has merely been part of the buildup. You push up against him, breasts pressing into Tom’s chest as your eyes screw shut, tears cascading down your cheeks as pleasure burns through you. His name pours past your lips like a prayer until it’s all that you know, all that you care to know.

It ends, and you’re trembling. Intense aftershocks rock through you, and you feel Tom kiss all over your cheeks as he coos soft words of endearment into your ear. His lips become wet, and you realise that blissful tears have skated down your face.

“Lovely girl... Best girl…” He’s gentle, tender. You jump, opening your eyes suddenly as Tom slips from you, causing your aching walls to spasm. He looks up at you, lifting a questioning brow as he reaches down towards your clit. “Finished?” he asks. When his fingertips lightly make contact with your bud, you wince. Everywhere aches, and it’s nice, but it’s enough.

“Definitely finished,” you choke out.

“Okay, okay… sorry, love.” Tom gently pulls back, flashing you an apologetic smile as he kisses your inner thigh. He shuffles around, eyeing the sight of his cum leaking from your hole, and you watch him shudder. “Fuck….” You can feel it slowly dripping from your entrance and clench your walls just to see his reaction. Tom groans, chewing his lips and continuing to stare until you shiver. He smoothes a hand over your thigh. “Sweet thing,” he whispers. “I’ll bring you some water.”

It only feels like he’s gone for a second, and you realise you’re drifting, ecstatic and loose-limbed. Tom is suddenly behind you, delicately hauling you into his arms. He sits against the headboard and pulls you into a tight hug from behind, kissing over your shoulders as you whimper softly. You can feel the soft fabric of his sweats as he settles you in his lap.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. He presses a glass of water into your hand and helps you take a sip. As the cool liquid soothes your throat, you relax into his hold. “Love you, love you… Love you so much.”

He’s so warm against you, holding you tight. Your eyes still feel wet.

“Love you too,” you say. Tom takes the glass from your hand and puts it down on the bedside table, and you turn in his arms to kiss him. Your lips feel puffy and sore, but the ache is worth the relief of feeling your fiancé’s mouth gently press to yours. You sigh as the tension leaves your shoulders, draining away as he loves you, and holds you.

“Am gonna clean you up, now,” Tom mumbles, voice soft. You look at him, curious until you feel a warm cloth pressing against your thighs. You part your legs, turning back in his arms and snuggling further into his grasp as he delicately runs the material over your centre. “Sorry, darling,” he says as you wince. He’s so gentle, but it still aches in a way that hurts.

“What time is it?” you ask, mind running slow.

Tom throws the cloth aside, then reaches out and grabs one of the thick furs that sits on top of your bed. “3pm.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” you murmur, brows creasing. “What time did we wake up?”

“Around midday.”

“Wow.” You smile softly as Tom tucks you both in, covering your shivering form with the blanket. You reach up, leaving your left arm above the fur and reaching out to take Tom’s hand. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

He laughs and tangles your hands together. Tom’s palm is warm against yours, and his other hand curves around to fiddle with your new ring.

“Indeed it does, darling,” he coos. “I had a lot of fun. Did you?”

“Always.”

You watch him play with your ring for a while, his lips moving over your sweaty neck. You’re still hot and exhausted, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He holds you tight all the same, not caring that you’re messy and still quivering from the aftershocks. Soft sentences of adoration pour from his lips as he holds you.

“After this,” Tom says, voice slow, “I thought we could have a nice bath… maybe drink some champagne, have some dinner… then I want to hear everything you’ve been up to for the last month, and maybe we can celebrate some more.”

You nod softly. Turning in his arms, you sit up to face him properly, dragging the large blanket with you and draping it over you both as you straddle his lap and rest your arms over his shoulders. The bruising is still on Tom’s face, but he looks more handsome than you’ve ever seen him before. There’s a golden glow to his face, a certain lightness that you’ve never seen before. You reach down and take his hand, bringing it to your lips and ghosting your mouth over his ring.

“I love you so much,” you say, looking up at him from behind his hand. His smile is like the sunrise. “Thank you for everything you do for me.”

“Oh, darling.” Tom pauses to kiss you, smiling against your lips. “Don’t you know the pleasure is all mine?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

will i burn for this ? perhaps. but it’s worth it. thank u to my lord and saviour mr mob!tsh... i love u.

lmk what you think......? +++ if you want to see any more specific scenes from my mob!tom x reader universe?? any other milestones you’d like to see? lmk! <3

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3

thank you for reading!! <3<3

[starryeyedmunson]

ecstasy (pt. 2) - b.b.

pairing: frat boy!bucky x sorority fem! reader

summary: the best fraternity on campus is hosting a party before the most anticipated rave of the season, and it’s all pioneered by social chair Bucky Barnes. and when you’re in college, you want to live life to the fullest, right? and what is more of living life to the fullest than having the most memorable but unrememberable night of your college career?

warnings: 18+, minors dni (this chapter doesn’t contain smut per say, but the series overall is 18+), not really smut but kissing and allusions to sex, pet names (sweets, doll), language, alcohol consumption, pda, partying

word count: 3.4k

a/n: so i got a lot of feedback on the first part and it was really just meant to be a dick!bucky one shot, but people wanted a series!! this warms my cold, tiny heart so here’s the second part! i’ll probably have 2 or 3 more parts after this, and then some one-shots after, but please let me know if you want to be tagged or anything, i have one person tagged below! love you all enjoy ;)

-

Rage could not even begin to encompass your emotions at the present moment.

With each step you took from the Sigma Chi house back to your sorority, you began to see more and more red. How could he have been such a no-good-waste-of-space-piece-of-shit asshole? You were willing to bet he had absolutely nothing to do today given that it was a Sunday, and fraternity boys have slim to no inclination to do homework ever. As you approached the steps to the Chi Omega house, you were clenching your fist so hard that little crescents were left indented in your hand when you finally let go to open up the door.

The door swung open to reveal Natasha and Wanda in the common room, both on their phones. However, when you slammed the giant wooden door shut, both girls jumped in their seats.

“Well there you are, you little minx!” Natasha said with a smirk. You glared at her, causing her initial expression to be replaced with a confused look. “Wait– where were you?”

“Oh, me? Well I was at the fraternity down the street. I had slept there with some PUNK who just kicked me out. Gave me the whole ‘I don’t want to be that guy’ line,” you said, slumping down into the couch you had walked over to.

“Oh, come on, Y/N, did you expect anything else from our school’s most eligible bachelor?” Wanda asked with a laugh. You picked up the pillow and threw it at her, which she caught with ease.

“I don’t know, maybe! He could have at least asked for my number, my social media, my email for fuck’s sake! I doubt he even remembers my name,” you said, completely furious. “This is why I haven’t hooked up with anyone since Quentin; everyone is a douchebag that deserves absolutely none of my time.”

“Okay, calm down with that,” Wanda started. “Quentin was an asshole, yes, but you can’t close yourself off from every opportunity. Maybe this is something you need, just a one-night stand until you find someone who’s worth settling down for.”

“She’s right, you know,” Natasha said. You looked at them both for a minute as you pondered within your thoughts. Was this really a good thing rather than a bad one? You did have a habit of thinking that every person who gave you the slightest bit of attention wanted to have kids with you. Maybe you really did need a meaningless hook up just to get back in the game. It’s not like you truly wanted another boyfriend after your previous one of two years had thrown everything away for a girl he knew for twenty minutes.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So what should I do if I really do want a no-strings-attached hookup? I haven’t done this in so long I feel like a newbie.”

“Perfect! I’ve got it all covered, don’t you worry, little one,” Natasha said, her famous scheming look plastered all over her face. She looked to Wanda, who immediately began nodding her head and smiling as Natasha pulled out her phone. You had a feeling this wasn’t going to go the way you expected, but usually everything works out when Natasha plans it. The woman does have a gift.

“Speaking of meaningless hookups, where’s your boyfriend, Nat?” you said teasingly.

“Don’t start, Y/L/N, he is not my boyfriend. Besides, you know the rules, no boys allowed in the house. Had to sneak him out this morning. I swear, it’s getting easier every time,” she said nonchalantly, closing her phone quickly.

“Hm, that’s not what Bucky insinuated last night. What was the word he referred to you with, again?” you said. “I think it started with a ‘G,’ right Wan?”

“Oh that’s right, I remember now,” Wanda played along. “It definitely started with a ‘G’ and ended with something that sounded like ‘irlfriend.’”

“Cut the shit, you two,” Nat said flatly. “There is no way Steve Rogers can handle all I have to offer.” The three of you began laughing as the conversation had moved to a lighter note, and you felt significantly better than you had when you walked in the house.

The same feelings were not being shared down the street, however.

“Who are we talking about?” Bucky said as he played his fourteenth game of Call of Duty Zombies. He swore under his breath when he lost, glaring at Steve for distracting him.

“Y/N Y/L/N, the girl you literally had sexual intercourse with last night,” Steve sighed. For someone who was secretly a nerd, he had a complete idiot of a best friend.

“Alright, before we go any further, you have got to stop saying that. It makes me wildly uncomfortable. Second of all, the fact that I don’t remember who she is means she wasn’t that memorable to begin with, so lose the attitude,” Bucky said, loading the next game.

“You’re an ass, Barnes,” Steve sighed again. Bucky chuckled as the game began, leaning back in his bed as the first zombies began appearing on the screen. “Listen, our date party is this weekend–”

“Uh, yeah, I planned it, moron.”

“Will you shut the fuck up and listen?” Steve said sternly, to which Bucky laughed again. “You’re taking Y/N and that’s final”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, sure. Now stop bothering me I’m clearly in the middle of something very important,” Bucky said, breaking into a smile before he could finish the sentence. What he wasn’t expecting was Steve’s foot kicking the Xbox controller out of his hand and onto the floor, where Steve grabbed it and held it away from Bucky. “What the f– give that back.”

“Say you’ll take her to our date party.”

“Who?”

“Jesus, Buck.”

“Oh, Y/N, yeah, whatever, I’ll take her, now give that shit back to me, punk,” Bucky practically whined. Steve handed back the controller proudly, and Bucky snatched it from his hand. Steve walked out of the room and left Bucky to his video game, but Bucky had other things on his mind. He didn’t want to take someone he didn’t even know; he had already planned on asking Sarah from his engineering class. He grunted as he clicked the start button, wishing he hadn’t said yes to Steve’s idea.

Bucky felt a vibration on his bed, and he grabbed his phone to see who had texted him.

Nat Romanoff

Attachment: 1 Contact

Nat Romanoff

don’t fuck this up

Bucky rolled his eyes and put the phone down. Steve really owed him one after this stunt.

-

“NATASHA ROMANOFF.”

“Oh good, he texted you,” Natasha said from the other room. She walked in shortly after to see you fuming from your bed.

“Natasha,” you said, feigning sweetness. “This is not what I meant by a no-strings-attached hookup.”

“Oh, come on! This is perfect, he clearly doesn’t care about your feelings, so this is the best option for not getting attached!”

“I know what you meant by that, but ouch,” you said. Nat rolled her eyes and waved her hand at you.

“What does the text say?” she asked. You showed her the phone reluctantly, given that Bucky hadn’t exactly made you feel special with his invitation.

Maybe: bucky

hey it’s bucky steve’s friend. he told me to invite you to our date party this weekend so we’re having a pregame at 6:30 and buses are at 7:45. theme is casino royale

“Wow,” Natasha said, still staring at the phone. “He really knows how to swoon a lady.”

“He’s an ass, I’m not going,” you said, throwing the phone back on your bed. “It’s not like he wants me there anyways. Why couldn’t you set me up with that hot kid, what was his name? The president, Loki, I think?”

“Y/N, you are going with Barnes and that’s final. It’s a free date to a date party, free booze, and free sex! The perfect trio sampler,” Natasha said, heading over to your closet. She opened the doors and began to sort through your dresses, landing on a black body con dress that you didn’t even know you had. “This is perfect, and thank me for the sex later,” she said with a wink

You threw a pillow at her as she skipped out of your room and reluctantly picked your phone back up from next to you.

To: Maybe: bucky

sounds good, see you friday

You aggressively pressed send and put your phone down with a loud thud. You were about to rip Natasha a new one for setting you up with the very man who has never even called you by your first name, but as you pondered, you realized that maybe this could be a good thing. You hate him, he doesn’t care about you, it’s a perfect recipe for no-strings-attached success. 

Soon enough, Friday rolled around and you were sitting in the very spot you were a week ago with Nat and Wanda, both of who were also getting ready for the same date party. The three of you, sat in silence while music played in the background, each too focused on perfecting their makeup to be engaged in conversation. 

“So there’s going to be copious amounts of alcohol there, right, Nat?” you asked, breaking the serenity of the room.

“Yes,” she said slowly, “why would you ask a question you know the answer to already?”

“She wants to make sure that she won’t remember tonight given that she has to spend it with the totally sexy, totally funny, totally perfect Bucky Barnes,” Wanda said, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“He’s not perfect, that’s why I need the alcohol, idiot,” You responded. By this time, your makeup was almost complete, and you got up to go put on your dress for the night. You walked into your room and picked up the black dress Natasha had picked out for you, and slipped into it. “If this doesn’t get me laid, I’ll kill the man myself,” you muttered to yourself, looking in the mirror before putting on your heels and walking back to the common room to finish your mascara.

“If that doesn’t get you laid, I’ll kill the man myself,” Natasha said, taking in your appearance. You and Wanda laughed as you grabbed your mascara and put some on, finishing your outfit for the night.

“Is everyone ready?” you asked, receiving nods from both of your friends. You looked in the mirror and made some finishing touches on your hair, then headed out the door and began your short walk to the Sigma Chi house.

You walked in the door to be greeted by Steve and Vision, giving them each a hug as you walked through the doorway. You strained your neck looking around the room until you found what you were looking for, excusing yourself from the already coupled up Wanda and Vision and Natasha and Steve. As you made your way over to your destination, you were wracked with nerves. Was he even going to acknowledge you when you went up to him? He was an asshole, so you didn’t put it past him. Would he think you looked good, at least? Who knows, he doesn’t even care about your name. All of these thoughts had to be pushed to the side however once you reached where you were headed, the bar.

“What can I get for you, ma’am?” a young pledge said from behind the makeshift bar. 

“All the tequila you have,” you said, only half-joking. The kid laughed nervously as he poured you a tequila lemonade. “This happens to be my favorite, actually, so thank you. What’s your name?” you asked him as he handed you the purposely-strong drink.

“Peter, ma’am,” he said shakily. “Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter Parker, you definitely need to stop calling me ‘ma’am,’” you said, trying to lighten the mood. Peter didn’t take that so well.

“Sorry, ma’am. But if the pledge master hears me not calling you ‘ma’am’ he’ll make me do a line up, and I really cannot get called at 3:30 am to sing someone a lullaby again.”

“Jesus,” you said, “they really make you do that? Who even is the pledge master?”

“I can’t disclose that information,” Peter said nervously.

“Can’t disclose that information, what?”

“Ma’am, sorry ma’am. Sorry, sir,” Peter yelped. You spun around to see a suited Bucky Barnes. His hair was styled more, and he wore black dress pants with a black button down and single, thin silver chain hanging from his neck. You didn’t want to admit it, but he looked really good.

Ugh, fuck him.

“That’s what I thought, Nursery Pledge,” he said smoothly. He snapped his fingers and Peter instantly had a drink ready for him, which he took and finally laid eyes on you. You felt him practically undressing you with lingering and not-so-innocent stares, and now it was your turn to snap. “Sorry, doll, just can’t get enough of my hot date.”

“Well, make it enough. I’m only doing this for the alcohol,” you said matter-of-factly. He chuckled slightly at your comment, before turning somewhat serious.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to kick you out like that. I’m not really a stick-around-in-the-morning kind of guy. Can you understand?” he said. The way his eyes bore into yours reminded you of how it felt to look at him the night of the rave, with so much lust it almost felt like love.

“I can understand, but it’d be nice if you called me by my name and not a stupid pet name like sweets or doll,” you said. Even though you secretly liked it, there was no way you were going to let him think that. He put his hands up in defense and laughed again.

“Alright, alright. Girls normally like that stuff. In fact, it even worked on you once, Y/N” he said. You glared at him and downed your tequila lemonade, slamming the cup down and snapping at Peter like Bucky had done a couple minutes before. To this, Bucky let out a loud laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides and his pearly white teeth showing. As soon as Peter filled up your drink and handed it back to you, you gave him a slightly apologetic look and mumbled a “thanks” before being led over to your friends by Bucky.

“Hey, you two,” Natasha said, smirking. The look you gave her only made her laugh, but no one else seemed to notice as natural conversation began to flow as you guys made your way to the buses. Bucky took your hand in his, an unexpected action, as he led you onto the bus, allowing you to sit before him in the two-person seats. Wow, what a real gentleman.

“Look, d– Y/N,” he turned to you. “I want to have fun tonight, and for us to have fun there needs to be no tension. Can you get on board with that?”

You sat and pretended to think about your decision before looking back down at him. “Fine, no real tension. But the sexual tension needs to be there because I’m not going home alone tonight, agreed?” you asked. Damn, Peter really had made these drinks strong; where did you get that kind of confidence?

Bucky laughed, “Oh, sweets, I’m expecting nothing less.”

The conversation between you two flowed easily, just as it had the week before. You guys arrived at the venue, and a now-drunk Bucky led an equally-drunk you off the bus and into the club that they had rented out for their date party. Loud music hit your ears as soon as you walked in, and the urge to dance came over you.

“Let’s go to the dance floor!” you yelled over the music, spotting your friends. Bucky just shook his head and led you to the bar area, immediately ordering two shots and another tequila sour. You pulled out your phone to Venmo him, but he took your phone from you and put it in his pocket. “Hey! What the hell?”

“None of that Venmo crap,” he said. “My mom raised me good and proper, drinks are on me.” He handed you the tequila shot and lime, and both of you downed the harsh alcohol before he handed you your drink. He then took your hand again and led you to the dance floor to finally meet up with your friends. The music immediately flowed through you, sending you into a drunken trance that had you dancing for what felt like hours. Throughout the night, you and Bucky had moments to yourselves, making out in every corner you could find as if you would never get a chance like this again.

“You’re not half bad, Y/L/N,” he pulled away and said, almost falling off the couch you two had found on the balcony of the club.

“Oh, wow! You even know my last name,” you said sarcastically. He laughed and pulled you in again, kissing you like his life depended on it. Your fingers ran through his hair as he pulled you impossibly close, moving you to straddle him. There were faint whistles and cheers from behind, but both of you were too wrapped up in each other to pay attention. He pulled away breathlessly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Let’s get on the bus, they’re leaving soon,” he said. You nodded in agreement as you got off of him, following him down the stairs and outside to the buses. Other people were leaving as well, and in the sea of bodies you lost Bucky. Too drunk to care, you hopped on the second bus and somehow found Nat and Steve aggressively making out in one of the seats.

“H-hey, guys,” you hiccuped. Nat broke the kiss to look at you, and instantly burst out laughing.

“Well look at you, you look like you just got hit by a car,” she said in between giggles. “Someone made up with Mr. Barnes, didn’t they?”

“Shut up,” you said, smiling like a little kid. You slumped into one of the seats as the bus began to move; apparently everyone had gotten on. You stared out the window as you thought about how much fun you had, and maybe that Bucky wasn’t such a bad guy after all. Speaking of the kid, where was he? You mustered all of the energy you could to sit up in your seat and stand, looking around the bus for a certain blue-eyed brunette. Your search was interrupted by a very large man falling into you, knocking you back into the seat against the window. You rubbed your head as said man immediately took you in his arms, looking at you all over.

“Oh my, I am truly sorry,” he began, “Are you alright?” You looked up, and while your vision was blurry, you were greeted with a beautiful sight.

“Aren’t you the g-guy with the funny n-name?” you said, hiccuping yet again. He chuckled, brushing his long black hair behind his ear.

“If the funny name you’re looking for is Loki, then yes, I am him,” he said. God, his voice was smooth. But you were doing something before this… right, looking for your date.

“Yeah, I meant that,” you started. “L-listen, have you seen B-Bucky Barnes? Brown hair, b-blue eyes, super s-sexy?” To this he laughed again, but as he looked around the bus, his expression faltered. “What?” you asked innocently.

“I do spot the man you’re looking for, but he seems to be a bit preoccupied,” he said with a sorrowful tone. You looked in the direction he was facing to be met with your wonderful date basically on top of a beautiful black girl who you knew to be Sarah Wilson. All previous thoughts of how well the night went were out the window, and you faced forward in your set with rage written all over your face. “I’m very sorry, is there anything I can do to help?” the boy next to you asked. Seeing red, you were about to tell him to fuck off. But as you thought about it more, you realized how perfect this situation really was.

You turned to Loki with siren eyes, saying “Yes, you actually can help.” He seemed to be picking up what you were putting down, and his response was nothing short of perfect.

“Your place or mine?”

-

@silentkiller2374

[maybege]

... Stays In Quantico - FBI Part 2

Summary: Back in Quantico, you are reminded just how difficult your situation is. (Part 2 of the FBI Series)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.1k | Rating: T

Warnings: descriptions of an anxiety attack

Here we are! I am so excited to finally start sharing this story with you. Having binged through all 15 seasons, I just want to say now that (1) this story will be canon-divergent and (2) it will be a slow burn. It is my first longer story about Hotch and I hope I will do his character justice. As always, you can find the posting schedule linked in my masterlist.

Have fun reading and let me know what you think.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“I don’t know what to think.”

“This is not the kind of job where you don’t know what to think.”

“I know.”

“Hard to believe from someone who just told me she doesn’t know what to think.”

You shifted in your seat. The office you were in was colder than the bullpen of the BAU and you wished you had remembered to bring your cardigan with you. Now all you were wearing was your short-sleeved dress and heels.

To be fair, you had presumed this would just be a standard meeting with the in-house therapist. After the incident in Kansas City, it seemed like standard procedure and you were glad to have been offered this opportunity.

Now though, sitting in the way too soft armchair with the brunette older woman looking at you over her glasses, this felt more like an evaluation than anything else. And you absolutely hated it.

You looked at the still-life of a fruit bowl on the right wall, right next to a bookshelf full of framed certificates. A woman who was proud of her accomplishments.

The first and last time you had had an evaluation was when you had first started working at the FBI and back then you had been sure that you had failed it. You had been sure you had failed all of it.

Your grandmother always used to say that if you looked for flaws long enough you would find them.

Dr Johnson looked like she spent her life looking for flaws.

“Tell me again why you chose to work for the FBI – and the BAU specifically.”

You would not make it anyway. Fuck it.

“There is so much hurt in the world,” you started, watching her eyebrows rise over the frames of her glasses, “I would feel better knowing I am trying to do something against it. And as for the BAU,” you shrugged, “Chief Sector Strauss approached me about it and I thought I would be stupid not to take the opportunity.”

She hummed, looking down at her file. “You don’t have any official FBI training.”

“No.”

“Any formal police training?”

“No.”

“Gun training?”

You hid your smile at the thought of the recent debacle for the gun qualification.

“I took down an UnSub in Kansas City last week,” you reminded her, “That is why I am here.”

She did not react to it. “In fact,” she leafed through the papers in her hand, “You only recently finished college. How did that go for you?”

“Good,” you nodded, trying to keep your knee from bouncing, “It was good.”

“What did you major in?”

“English,” you replied and when you saw her raised eyebrow, tried to elaborate, “Um, English literature to be exact and I have a minor in law as well.”

“Why only a minor?”

“Pardon me?”

“Why did you only minor in law? Were you not good enough?”

To cover the unease from her question, you crossed your legs. “I had no interest in law,” you answered truthfully, “My passion was and is with literature.”

The full truth was, you simply did not like law students. That and the pressure they were under was, you were convinced, what brought many lawyers to an early grave. But she did not need to know that about you.

Ironic that you had ended up in the BAU after all this.

Totally not stressful.

She said your name, then, slowly, and leant forward. You tensed, knowing that look too well. Was this the moment she would tell you that you had failed the valuation? The moment Hotch would come into the office and hand you your resignation with that disappointed look in his eyes.

Maybe the way Kansas City had ended was just a way to disguise the true going-ons of your work here in Quantico?

“You have been here, what, seven months now, Agent?”

“Yes, eight months, coming February,” you replied, meeting her gaze and swallowing the dryness of your throat.

“Would you say you have adjusted to your life here in Virginia?”

You frowned, “What do you mean?”

Dr Johnson made a vague gesture as if encompassing everything and anything, “Do you have friends here? Family? How do you get on with your colleagues?”

Well, you certainly had not been expecting this kind of question.

“I live together with a friend,” you answered slowly, “My family lives in Idaho.”

“Idaho,” Johnson smiled, “A long way from home, no?”

“Yes.”

“Look, Agent, I am not going to lie,” she sighed, putting her pen down on the notepad, “I am not sure if you are the right fit for the FBI.”

You’re not the only one, you thought with a grimace.

“I am sure you are a good person, that your motivations for working here are true,” she elaborated, “But your lack of training? Your lack of … experience,” she gave you a pitiful look, “I am simply not convinced you are cut out for the work we need here.”

You had always thought it but hearing someone else say it to your face hit deeper than you ever could have thought. Your fingers started to tremble and you clasped your hands together, squeezing them to somehow force yourself to remain with as much dignity as you could.

“Okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath in the hopes that it would keep your tears at bay, “What – what does that mean?”

“As there are no reasons for a suspension based on your mental health, the next step would be that I get in contact with your supervisor,” she threw a look on her paper, “SSA Aaron Hotchner, is that correct?” you nodded and she continued, “A written evaluation of your role at the BAU will be requested and then we will go from there. Best case scenario is you won’t leave at all, worst case scenario …”, she trailed off.

Of course, she did not need to finish the sentence for you to know what she was saying.

Worst case scenario: You would leave the FBI.

Realization washed over you and you smiled tightly at her. “Thank you, Dr Johnson,” you stood up, reaching a polite hand out to her which she took, “If you will excuse me, I should get back to my desk while I still can.”

Dr Johnson smiled kindly at you which only made it worse. She was pitying you. She felt sorry for you. Sorry for your incompetence, sorry for you not belonging in this place.

You felt like you would throw up any minute.

“Of course, Agent,” she said softly, “I will inform your supervisor of my recommendation. You will receive a copy of the protocol within the next week.”

You nodded, not meeting her eyes as you hurried out of her office.

*

The staff washroom on the third floor was always empty.

You knew that from the fact that you had often used it as a refuge after nearly dissolving into tears in the bullpen. That and the fact that the third floor was far away enough for anyone of the BAU to search for you here made it the perfect place to come after your talk with Dr Johnson.

You threw a look on your watch.

Six minutes. You would give yourself six minutes and then you would go to your desk and work on those reports and show Dr Johnson that you loved your job and that you were capable of doing it. You would show her that you were not the anxious, incompetent student she saw in you but someone who could be an asset to the team.

I am not sure if you are the right fit for the FBI.

Tears shot into your eyes and you locked the little cabin behind you, sitting on the edge of the toilet as you rushed to grab a few pieces of toilet paper.

The first sob echoed in the tiled room and you pressed the tissues to your mouth, hoping it would muffle the sounds somewhat. Your skin felt too hot and too tight and you could already see how your makeup would be ruined by the tears no matter how hard you tried.

And you had left your backup mascara in your bag at your desk.

Great. Just great.

Anxiety filled you at the thought of having to prove yourself even more than before. After Kansas City and Hotch’s encouraging words, you had somehow hoped that the hard part was over now. That you could focus on delivering good work instead of questioning if everyone doubted your belonging in the unit.

But maybe they were and they were just too polite to mention it? Maybe Dr Johnson was finally saying what they all wanted to spare you from?

Tears were rolling freely over your cheeks now, dropping onto your dress and you cursed, trying to wipe it away and somehow keep your face dry. There were still quite a few hours left in the workday and although you hoped there would not be a case coming in today, you were working along with a team of profilers.

You were like an open book to them even if there was the agreement to not profile each other.

A look on your watch told you it was nearly time to go and you took a moment to listen if anybody was there before stepping out of the little cubicle. It was completely abandoned.

Much like you had expected, you looked an absolute mess and just seeing yourself in the mirror brought fresh tears into your eyes.

“Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity,” you echoed the motto, gripping the edge of the counter and taking deep breaths, “Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity.”

*

“Hey, kid, how did it go?”

You entered the chaotic bullpen, just barely avoiding crashing into Anderson before making your way to your desk. Reid was seated across from you which meant that no matter how much of a mess you left at the end of a day, it still looked comparably neat.

Now though, it was nearly empty.

“Hi Derek,” you smiled tightly, your eyes still irritated from your impromptu cry session as you sat down at your desk.

You had splashed cold water on your face in hopes of somehow feeling and looking better. Still, you immediately went for your bag, scrambling to find your emergency mascara and lipstick to sneak back into the washroom before anyone noticed.

Especially –

“Agent,” Hotch’s voice boomed through the office and you winced, feeling the heat of tears collecting in your eyes again. You stayed ducked over your bag, hoping that maybe he did not mean you. Maybe he wanted to talk to Derek or Emily or Reid or –

Cleanly polished shoes appeared in your field of vision and you swallowed.

“In my office. Now.”

“Yes, Sir,” you mumbled, hastily wiping your cheek of a stray tear before straightening and following him up the stairs. You ignored Derek’s worried look, instead choosing to straighten your shoulders and stoically look ahead.

This was but an extension of the interview with Dr Johnson. You could do this even if the man terrified and intrigued you more than he should.

You had barely stepped foot in his office when he sat down. “Close the door. Sit down.”

You did, feeling much smaller than you had in Dr Johnson’s office. His lips were tight and he looked incredibly displeased, even for Hotch’s standards. You must have majorly messed up.

His hands were clasped in front of him and your eyes fell to his fingers. You swallowed heavily, hands wringing in your lap as you waited for him to start talking.

“Dr Johnson just informed me that a written evaluation of your performance on this team is being requested.”

“Sir, I can explain, I –“

He raised a hand, effectively silencing you and your mouth snapped shut.

“You do not need to explain anything,” he said calmly, “Dr Johnson is only doing her job and after what happened last week, it might not be such a bad idea.”

You nodded, trying to not seem as nervous as you were.

“Do not worry yourself over it. I meant what I said in Kansas,” he stated, facial expression unreadable, “You are a valuable addition to this team and I look forward to seeing your contributions in the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” you looked down on your hands, trying to hide your nervousness, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Call me Hotch.”

“Yes, Si- Hotch,” you corrected yourself with a sheepish smile. He was sitting at his desk, hands folded on top of it as he looked at you. And fuck, it should be forbidden to look this good. You froze, licking your lips and hoping you would be able to blame it on the dryness of your lips instead of you imagining what it would be like to feel his mouth on yours.

Not the time, a rational part of your brain reminded you, So not the fucking time.

*

Shuffling through the crowded metro you pressed your phone to your ear.

“I promise, it is all right, mom,” you assured her, letting yourself fall into one of the free seats, keeping your bag pressed against your chest. An elderly woman threw you an offended look and shuffled away from you as if you had any interest in stealing her dog off her hands.

“I am just worried, honey,” your mom said on the other side of the phone, “We are all worried. It is a hard job, isn’t it? And why do they keep putting you up for evaluations? You haven’t even been there for a full year!”

“Mom –“

“Are you okay?” she interrupted you in that voice that only your mom had, “Truly okay?

Your head fell against the window of the wagon, the heaviness of the day washing over you. You took a shuddering breath, “No, Mom, I – I don’t think I am.”

There was a sigh on the other side of the line. She was disappointed and worried, you could hear it already and it did not help to calm the anxiety raging in your stomach. You could almost see her in front of you, the pity in her eyes and the little furrow between her brows.

“You can always come home, hon, you know that, right?” she asked carefully and you cringed at how quiet she was being, “We can still find somewhere else for you to work. A nice option. You can come back home and dad and I will help you. I know it can take some time to find a good position. But you had so much fun doing literature, why not go back to it? You don’t have to stick there if it doesn’t make you happy.”

“But it does make me happy, mom,” you protested, wincing at how desperate you sounded, before adding quietly, “Saving people is what I want to do. And I can do it.”

“I am not saying you can’t, sweetie,” she assured you, “But maybe it is not what you should do with your life, hm?”

*

You could see that the light was on in the living room when you entered the small hallway. The sounds of the TV washed over your ears and you smiled.

“I’m home!”

A non-committal grunt answered you and you grinned, knowing that he was probably too entranced in whatever crime show he was currently watching. You let your keys fall onto the little side table and made sure to lock the deadbolt before making your way to Josh.

Your heels made clicking sounds on the floor and you took care to be as quiet as possible. “Hi,” you grinned, waving at him.

Josh was tall and lanky. And despite being offended if you ever told him that – looked exactly like one would imagine a law student to look. He was always well dressed and took great care when it came to all things cultural. He drank the best wine, read all the important books, watched all the niche movies to impress people.

Sometimes you joked that of the two of you, he was the one who could be expected to work for a government institution.

“It’s late,” he commented, nodding to the screen, “You’re usually here by the second episode.”

“I wanted to get some reports done,” you explained, shrugging out of your coat, “Had a chat with my boss today again. I thought it might be better to not give any more opportunities to criticize me. How was your day?”

“Boring,” he replied, “Attended that one event about intellectual property and want to lunch with a few friends from uni. You should come with us sometime, you will like them.”

You nodded, already thinking ahead of a day when you would have enough free time to join him and his friends. Dr Jones’ words about having a strong social life to fall back to echoed in your mind and you decided to make more of an effort to make friends.

It would be all right.

There was some Chinese takeout in Josh’s lap and you spotted a few grocery bags in the small hallway to your room and the kitchen.

“Did you get me the bananas like I asked?” you asked, slipping out of your heels.

Josh kept munching on his noddle, making a vague gesture that led you into the kitchen. And there, on the tiny dining table were two green bananas.

“They are not even ripe yet,” you called into the living room, “And I asked for four bananas, not two.”

“What do you need them for anyway?”

“I wanted to bake banana bread,” you said, turning to get out some flour and chocolate chips, “It’s an easy breakfast to have in the metro.”

Josh sighed, walking into the kitchen and throwing himself onto the black dining chair. “You barely eat at home anyway, that’ll just go to waste.”

“Which is exactly why it is nice to have something ready to eat on the go,” you explained, wondering if he had overheard your words.

Cracking two eggs into a bowl, you hummed. “I could bring it into the office,” you mused, starting to mush up the bananas, “I think JJ mentioned she liked it once.”

“To the colleagues that despise you?”

You frowned, “They don’t despise me. They are very nice to me, Josh.”

Josh took the last bite of his noodles, setting down the little container “By the way, Greg is coming over tonight.

“But it’s almost midnight,” you stated, throwing a confused look towards the clock, just to make sure, “Didn’t you say you will leave for that Seattle trip tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if it gets too late he will just stay on the couch,” Josh replied, shrugging. You nodded, not saying anything but knowing deep down that George would occupy the bathroom that morning so you would have to get up even earlier than normal.

That would be a stressful day.

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long. 

—

main list ~

✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus​ | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)

There is something or well, someone in the walls.

✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles​ | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)

“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”

✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp​ | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)

“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.

✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan​ | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)

Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.

✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)

Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles​​ | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)

He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.

✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)

Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.

It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much. 

✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus​ | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)

He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.

✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup​ | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress​ | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace​ | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)

Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.

Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?

Louis would really like to know.

✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune​ | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)

Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.

✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau​ | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)

Louis makes his choice.

✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)

The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.

✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss​ | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)

Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.

✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry) 

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou​ | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”

Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.

“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)

Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom​ | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)

Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily​ | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)

Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.

✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams​ | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)

Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.

✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere​ | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)

Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt​ | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)

“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie​ | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself) 

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny​ | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

✰ like real people do by @eeveelou​ | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)

Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

podfics ~

✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz​ & read by @softlouislove​ | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)

Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace. 

wips ~

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved​ | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies​ | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers​ | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)

Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?

non-1d ~

✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting​ | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)

Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff. 

Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 4

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: When you and Din arrive at the village in Sorgan, you both learn that the universe is full of surprises.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, angsty angst, pining (so...much...pining...)

Author Note: All the love and thanks to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, and comments on this series! Seriously, the support is beyond words. I wanted to go ahead and spoil it now that Winta does not make an appearance. I love that little girl in the episode, but I just couldn’t get her to fit in this segment. Maybe she’ll appear later on in the future, I honestly don’t know how my brain works. 

Also, fun fact, this will be my 100th post 😱🥳

Links to Part 1 and Part 3 and Part 5

Photo Inspiration: (I love black and white photos if you can’t tell by now...)

Sorgan is a beautiful planet, covered in massive forests and several freshwater lakes filled with krill. There is a tiny, farming village that isolates itself in the midst of Sorgan’s swampy region which is where you hope to find Omera. Rumor has it she’d fallen in love with the community five years ago and bound her nurturing powers to the planet, shielding them against the harshness of famine and plague. Her powers also prohibited other immortals from teleporting directly into the village, even if they meant no harm, thus forcing you and Din to walk the five-mile-long road from the common house to the village boundary line.

Mud sticks to the bottom of your shoes and the humidity is absolutely murdering your hair, but you love the addictive burn of fresh air filling your lungs, the symphonic sounds of the wilderness encompassing you. Here on Sorgan, the positive attributes far outweigh the negative ones.

Din walks beside you, close enough your arm occasionally brushes against his  vambrace, and you find yourself glancing at him out of your peripheral every few steps, dazzled by how the sunlight reflects off his armor. He catches your eye more than once, inclining his head to stare back while puffing out his chest, preening like the kriffing asshole he is. Each time you swiftly turn away with a burning face, hating how his smugness changes to amusement at your inability to hold his gaze, even with the impeding visor.

You string together creative expletives in your mind, each one meant to strengthen your resolve to ignore him. Except, like clockwork, your eyes helplessly drift back over again mere minutes later, dooming you to a continuous cycle of torment and embarrassment.

At least up until you’re less than a mile from your destination and Din abruptly halts without warning. “How will I know?”

You nearly slip as you whirl around to face him, worried at first but then confused when the question registers. “Know what?”

“If I’ve met my match,” he answers, the hand branded with his soulmate marking restlessly clenching and unclenching at his side. “How will I know it’s my soulmate?”

It’s a question you’re extremely familiar with. Maker knows exactly how many times you’ve been asked it throughout your years as a Cupid, but it’s got to be nearing a couple hundred thousand at least. And yet your usual go-to answer—a speech fed to you by your bosses about the perfect plan of the universe—doesn’t feel right to give him. He deserves your own honest opinion.

The first time you ever matched two individuals, you’d naively expected literal sparks to appear when they shook hands. Or a beam of light to shine down on them from above, an unmistakable sign from the universe they were meant to be together. So you were crushed when absolutely nothing noteworthy happened, only that neither one was able to look away from each other, eyes as wide as moons and full of awe. The same kind of awe usually reserved for watching sunsets and hearing a baby’s first cry of life.

You’d realized then the exact moment soulmates experienced their connection was not something externally witnessed by the eyes of the world. It was an internal sensation felt only by the two halves finally becoming whole.

“They’re called your soulmate for a reason, Din,” you say, slowly drawing closer. You’re not truly cognizant of your actions, only your voice, and perhaps that’s why you reach out to take a hold of his gloved hand, rubbing your thumb over his leather-covered knuckles. Distantly, as if looking through a foggy window, you’re aware of the way his whole body freezes at your touch, but still you hold on, still the words keep flowing from your lips.

“The moment you shake their hand, there will be no doubt. It’ll be instant. Like you’re tasting air for the first time after being trapped underwater. Everything will be clearer, colors brighter. Your whole world will crumble apart at their feet because all that matters now is them. And the only thought you’ll be able to think is, ‘It’s you. All this time I’ve been waiting for you.’”

Din sucks in a ragged breath. It’s only barely audible because of your closeness, but it’s also just loud enough to snap you out of your daze. “Angel,” he says hesitantly. It’s your turn to freeze when he leans in, helmet pressing softly against your forehead. “Have you ever—“

You jerk backwards, cutting Din off and releasing your grip on his hand all in the same movement. Panic is swelling in your chest and you can’t stop it, clothes suddenly feeling too constricting and you force yourself to remember why you’re here on Sorgan, the importance of the mission at stake.

“We need to keep moving,” you say, looking anywhere but Din’s direction. “I don’t think the village is that much further.”

Din watches you silently, no doubt trying to make sense of your agitated state. You feel exposed, torn open at the seams with all your insecurities on full display for him to pick apart and criticize.

In the end though, he only heaves a sigh, respectfully granting you time to begin the slow process of stitching yourself back up.

“Lead the way,” Din says, gesturing towards the path with a nod of his head. “I go where you go.”

The rest of the journey would have been completed in silence, if not for how Din’s unfinished question seemed to float alongside you in the breeze, echoing in your ears.

Have you ever...

                                                 Have you ever...

                                                                                          Have you ever...

~~~

The villagers are scared of your arrival at first, panicked to be in the presence of Death. Parents clutch at their children and the elderly are ushered into huts, as if they’ll be better protected by being kept out of Din’s field of vision.

“I promise you, we don’t mean any harm,” you say, but your words do little to reassure any of them.

A woman emerges from the crowd, the only one whose expression doesn’t bear a hint of fear. Segments of her dark hair are intricately braided while the rest flows unhindered over her shoulders, long enough to nearly reach her waist. Her features are delicate, but there is strength in how she carries herself as she marches right up to you and Din, shoulders drawn back with determination.

“Omera,” you breathe, recognizing the woman for the goddess she truly is.

“Yes,” she says, sounding reluctant to confirm her identity. Her eyes flick between you and Din. “Who are you and why have you brought Death here? I have a formal agreement with the Guild that grants me permission to personally handle the passing of my people’s souls into the afterlife. Death should have no purpose here.”

This is news to you. 

Not the reference of the Guild—you’re very much aware of Greef Karga’s organization of reapers who assist Din in maintaining the natural order by collecting deceased souls on his behalf across the galaxy. Despite all the powers that come with being Death, Din is unable to be everywhere all at once. So the reapers bring the souls to Nevarro where Karga holds onto them until Din arrives to usher them into the afterlife. 

What you weren’t aware of is her claim that this village might be the one place in the whole galaxy where Death and his associates have no influence.

“I’m a Cupid. I help people find their soulmates.” You gesture to Din who stands so tense behind you, you’re not entirely certain he’s even breathing. “And currently, I’m helping him.”

The way Omera’s expression instantly brightens is almost comical. A smile grows across her face, warm and friendly as if she’s known you for years and not mere seconds. “Oh, forgive me my rudeness. That’s wonderful to hear. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had guests. Would you like something to drink?”

“Actually—” Din starts, speaking for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“Yes, I would love one,” you interrupt, digging your elbow into his side and eliciting a soft grunt. “I heard the spotchka here is exceptional.”

The villagers, who had relaxed once Omera deemed you and Din weren’t a threat, are eager to prove their reputation as spotchka brewmasters. Nothing brings people together like alcoholic beverages, and within the hour you are sitting on a log bench in the village center and chatting amicably with them.

It’s a happy, tight knit community. Omera’s nurturing powers have only further increased it’s natural conditioning as an ideal sanctuary to raise a family. Everyone knows one another and takes care of each other. You can see how easy it was for her to have fallen in love with the place.

“He’s different than I expected.” Omera interrupts your thoughts by nodding to someone behind you.

You follow her line of sight, and see Din standing distantly in a field of grass, surrounded by a squadron of younglings. He’s too far to be heard, but you can tell by the gesturing of his hands that he’s explaining to them the pieces of his armor. They’re hanging onto his every word, completely enthralled, if their wide-eyed expressions are any indication. You realize as you watch that they’ll never come to recognize Din as the true identity of Death due to Omera’s agreement with the Guild. In their eyes, he is just an interesting stranger wearing shiny metal who they can pester with an endless amount of questions.

“He’s got many layers,” you admit, turning back around before the bittersweet scene makes your heart melt into a disgusting puddle at your feet.

And it is only because you look away first that you notice how Omera’s gaze lingers just a beat too long.

“Does he ever take it off?” she asks. “The helmet, I mean.”

You hesitate, stalling by sipping at your spotchka. “Not when he’s Death.”

Omera looks at you like you’ve told her a riddle. “When is Death not Death?”

When he’s with me, the voice in the back of your head wants you to shout at her, but instead you ask, “You said earlier you handle the souls of the villagers when they pass away?” 

“They asked me if I could protect their planet for future generations,” Omera explains slowly, confusion still present in the lines of her face. “My powers are strongly connected to the growth of life, blessing both expectant mothers and nature’s saplings. After I chose to bind myself to Sorgan, the villagers offered to lend me their souls as sources of energy to further strengthen it. So now, rather than losing them to the afterlife, we continue to see those who have passed on in every blossoming flower and in each drop of rain, remaining part of our everyday lives despite their physical absence.”

“That’s beautiful,” you breathe, because it’s the truth. It’s also the confirmation you needed to hear to honestly tell her, “He wouldn’t be Death here. He’d have the opportunity to be anyone else he wanted.”

Omera lets the words sink in for a moment, then she returns to staring at Din, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. You don’t blame her for being curious, especially since he’s barely said anything to her, subsequently forcing you to be the sociable one. 

You thought when you both arrived he’d try harder than this to make a good first impression. Omera’s his potential soulmate, he knows this and yet it seems as if he’s doing all he can to avoid her. 

Omera startles you out of your thoughts when she abruptly inches closer to you, as if preparing to share a secret in your ear.

“You said you were helping Death find his soulmate,” Omera’s voice is no louder than a murmur, seeming uncharacteristically bashful all of the sudden as she tugs at a strand of hair. “Does he...Has he been marked?”

It occurs to you then that this whole time she’s been fishing for information from you, gradually leading up to this particular question. This is a good thing, you tell yourself, despite the sickening pit forming in your stomach. It means she hasn’t been offended by his standoffishness. 

“Yes.” Your head dips in a jerky nod. Fortunately the goddess doesn’t notice your awkwardness as she peers down at her hands folded in her lap. You know what’s there without having to see it. “We came here because I knew you’d been marked too.” 

“I’d hoped so,” she confesses, showing you her palm. “I didn’t think it was possible, someone like me having a soulmate.” An immortal, your mind deciphers her underlying meaning. “But, then again, the universe always seems to be full of surprises, right?”

Soulmate markings all resemble each other as black lines forming the shape of a heart no bigger than a bottlecap in the center of one’s palm, regardless of what the person looks like themselves. They only appear on select individuals the universe picks for reasons known only by the divine Maker. Those without marks often make the ignorant mistake of comparing them to tattoos. A soulmate mark doesn’t fade with time like ink does, remaining eternally vibrant and warm to the touch, as if there’s a tiny flame buried beneath the skin.

You’ve seen thousands of marks on thousands of hands, yet your mouth dries up at the sight of hers despite it looking no different. An unexpected tremor rocks your body, worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s as if you’ve been stabbed by an invisible shard of ice, threatening to freeze you solid from the inside out.

When you speak, each word scrapes against the inside of your throat and tastes bitter on your tongue. “You should go talk to him.”

Omera’s face goes a bit pink. “You think so?”

You force yourself to smile, hoping it doesn’t resemble a grimace or, Maker forbid, a snarl. “I think you’ll never know if he’s your match unless you do.”

Not needing any more convincing, she spares you one last hopeful look before leaving to approach Din. She walks across the grassy field with unhindered grace, not once tripping over a rock or the bottom of her dress, and you can’t help feeling envious, knowing your clumsy feet wouldn’t be able to carry you three steps without an issue. You watch as she says something to the children, inducing several disappointed groans audible even from where you sit, before one by one they each depart, seeking entertainment elsewhere in the village.

Omera and Din fall into conversation, and you bite your lip, knowing you’re only making the ache hurt worse by watching but unable to tear your eyes away. Their conversation is too quiet for you to make out, but given the way Din’s body language is relaxed and without a hint of defensiveness, you’re convinced Omera’s definitely charming him.

They’ll make an attractive couple, you think before you can stop yourself. They’re similar, too, in that they both have protective streaks a mile wide when it comes to those they care about. As a divinely gifted caretaker, Omera will know just what to say to pull him out of one of his brooding episodes. She’ll soften his rough edges, lend him strength when he needs it most, and might even be able to convince him to settle down in the village where he can shed his persona as Death and actually experience life. Most importantly, though, you hope she’ll make him happy.

Because Din deserves someone who will make him happy every day of his existence.

You know it’s coming, but still your breath stutters when you see Din begin to remove his glove. He moves slowly, revealing tanned skin inch by inch as he pulls at the leather with his other hand. He has never been one to hesitate over things in the past, except when he showed you his mark that night at the train station. You really don’t want to think that Din could be nervous, but you also can’t determine any other reason explaining his behavior. Omera, for her part, is the perfect image of patience as she waits for him to initiate contact, if not for the way you spy her pulling anxiously at her brown locks again.

As Din reaches out to grab hold of Omera's hand, there is a second right before contact where his helmet shifts in your direction and you feel the intensity of his gaze cut through the distance, piercing your fragile heart.

In the next breath, an invisible explosive force sends you hurtling backwards through the air several feet. You bite your tongue when you collide with the ground and blood begins pooling in your mouth, causing you to gag at the coppery taste. Ignoring the pain emanating from your undoubtedly bruised rib cage, you force your body to roll over so you can spit out a scarlet blob onto the dirt. Gross, you think sluggishly.

Movement out of the corner of your eye has your head turning to look, but it takes several more seconds before your brain comprehends what you’re seeing.

The village looks as if a massive wind storm has swept through it in the last five seconds. Several villagers are slowly rising onto their feet, having apparently also been roughly tossed to the ground, looking just as bewildered by the state of things as you feel.

Your eyes next lock onto Din’s figure. He and Omera stand in the distance exactly where you last saw them, appearing completely unaffected by the unseen force. But rather than looking at each other with awe as all other soulmate pairs do, there is only unbridled shock on Omera’s face.

With newfound urgency, you stumble onto your feet, knowing something’s gone horribly wrong.

“Din!”

Your shout startles him enough he visibly jolts, increasing your worry tenfold.

Your feet skid to a stop closer to his body than you anticipated, nearly colliding face-first with his chest. It’s on the tip of your injured tongue to ask them what the hell just happened when Din beats you to the punch.

“What happened to you?” he demands, cradling your jaw. He’s using his gloved hand, you can’t help but notice. His other one—still uncovered from when it had touched Omera’s—is pressed firmly against the segment of armor protecting his upper thigh. His thumb starts to wipe at the blood staining the corner of your mouth, but you refuse to be tended to when there’s a bigger issue at stake.

“What happened?” you repeat incredulously, pulling away and resisting the urge to smack the side of his helmet. “I should be asking you that, idiot. Did you two match?”

Omera says nothing in response to your question, but there is something about the way she stares at you directly, like you’ve revealed a secret of the universe right in front of her, that brings back the same self-conscious feeling of being exposed you’d felt earlier.

“Look for yourself, angel,” Din answers with a tone full of scorn, gesturing widely to your surroundings with both arms. “Does any of this look like what you told me would happen?”

Taken aback by his hostile tone, you glance around the field, only to be stunned by what you’d initially failed to notice. In an almost perfect circle encompassing the three of you, the once beautifully green and luscious grass is now black and shriveled, entirely devoid of life. It crunches beneath your shoes as you nervously shift in place, eerily resembling the sound of bone breaking, and you’re beginning to understand the shock you’d glimpsed on Omera’s face.

“No,” you say, feeling slightly hysterical but doing your best to keep it out of your voice. “No, it definitely doesn’t.”

Omera had said that the universe is always full of surprises.

What a kriffing understatement that turned out to be.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​

[melzula]

A New Battle Begins

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: requested by anon

summary: Now that the war is over, Zuko and the Princess can finally live a life of peace together. Or so they think...

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

“Careful now, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” you chide gently as you help guide Zuko’s arms through the sleeves of his robe before neatly tying the sash around his waist. His wound is still tender from Azula’s lightning strike and limits most of his movements, so he’s grateful for your help in his preparation for the coronation. You work precisely and gracefully with no error and no faltering despite the hindrance of your freshly bandaged hands, and though the room is quiet a sense of calm and peacefulness washes over Zuko at your mere comforting presence. Today he will be crowned Fire Lord, and you will be right by his side just like you have been since you were children— Zuko couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

“Thank you for your help,” he says with a grateful smile. “I can’t imagine doing this without you.”

“We’ve come a long way,” you note thoughtfully, “and there’s no place I’d rather be than right here with you in this very moment.”

With the final piece of his wardrobe secured to his body, Zuko takes it upon himself to tie his top knot— you still haven’t quite mastered the hairstyle yet— and complete his Fire Lord ensemble. You smile fondly at the sight of him, leaning forward to grace his lips with a sweet kiss.

“You make a handsome Fire Lord.”

“And one day you’ll make a beautiful Fire Lady,” Zuko counters with a small smirk, one that sends you into an embarrassed fit of giggles.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, mister,” you say with a laugh. “I’m going to join the others out in the courtyard. I’ll see you shortly.”

You bid your love goodbye with a chaste kiss to the cheek before excusing yourself from his presence and making your way back outside. The palace is empty other than the few guards that line the hallways, and you have to remind yourself that they aren’t your enemies any longer. With Zuko on the throne and your status as his girlfriend no one will lay a single finger on you while you are here, especially not with your title as Princess of the Southern Water Tribe. It will take some time to break your habit of immediately going on the defensive in the presence of Fire Nation soldiers, but you have faith that Zuko and Aang will be able to restore balance to the world.

Your path to the outside is suddenly blocked by a woman who stands at the very end of the hall and gazes thoughtfully out the grand window before her. Her hair is graying but the lines that worry her face are kind and familiar. Seemingly sensing your presence, she turns to you with a tired smile, one you recognize immediately despite the many years you’ve spent away from home.

“Mother,” you murmur quietly, eyes welling with tears and breath catching in your throat at the sight of her.

“You’ve grown so much I almost didn’t recognize you,” she replies with a teasing tone. Her arms open to you then, warm and inviting, and with a small sob you gather the skirt of your dress before sprinting towards her.

“Mother!” You cry, melting into her bone crushing embrace as you weep into the fabric of her coat. “I can’t believe it’s you! How- What are you doing here?”

“The Fire Prince sent a messenger hawk to tell me of your bravery and requested my presence in the Fire Nation immediately,” she explains before carefully taking your hands in her own and assessing the bandages wrapped neatly around your wrists and extending all the way to your fingertips. It’s only one layer and it’s mostly just for protection, but it’s obvious that extensive damage has been done to your skin. “Does it hurt?”

“No. The healing took away the pain, but the scars will stay forever.”

“My brave girl,” your mother coos with a tearful smile, hand resting upon your cheek and cupping your face. “Your father would be so proud.”

“Thank you, mom,” you reply. A single tear slides down your cheek but you’re quick to brush it away before it can ruin your ceremonial makeup. “But if I’m being honest, I thought you’d be angry with me... I was afraid when I came back home you’d want nothing to do with me.”

“I was heartbroken when you left,” she admits thoughtfully, “you were my only child and I feared for your safety. I thought of you every day, and when I heard the news of your father’s death I worried that one day I might get the same news about you.”

You look closely at your mother as she explains, appreciating the details of her face and the change of her features. She wasn’t very old, but your absence and your father’s passing weighed heavily upon her through the lines on her skin. She was strong, but she’d also been through a lot these last couple of years, managing her grief while trying to run an entire tribe on her own. You could only hope to be as great of a leader as she was.

“But instead I received news of your bravery, your compassion, and your courage. I couldn’t be more proud to call you my daughter, y/n, and I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

She pulls you into yet another embrace before joining you out in the courtyard to meet your friends, and for the first time in a long time all is right in the world.

~~~

Zuko’s coronation goes off without a hitch, and after successfully establishing the plans for the Harmony Restoration Movement with King Kuei you and your friends decide to visit the Jasmine Dragon to celebrate before the announcement. It’s your last night away from home, and though you’re reluctant to say goodbye to Zuko and your friends you know you’re needed back in the south. You’ve been away for too long, and the Southern Water Tribe is in desperate need of a ruler. With your father gone and your mother growing older it will only be a matter of time before the tribe is left in your hands, so there’s no better time than now to start leaning how to lead.

“Your tsungi horn playing is beautiful as always, Uncle,” you compliment Iroh as Zuko sets your tea before you. He gifts you a chaste kiss to the cheek in passing, an act that has you shyly hiding your smile behind your cup and taking a drink of the jasmine taste you’ve missed so dearly. The last time you’d been in Ba Sing Se you were living under a false identity, settling down into your new life with a reluctant Zuko and trying to start anew. There had been obstacles of course, from the encounters with your midnight stranger to Zuko’s inevitable betrayal down in the crystal caves, but you don’t wish to take any of it back for a second. Because otherwise you wouldn’t be here now, surrounded by your friends as you critique Sokka’s drawing.

“You know the burns are only on my hands and not the rest of me, right?” You ask, pointing out the scars that weave around your arms like vines in the drawing.

“Yeah, but this makes you look cooler!” Sokka defends.

“Well I think you all look perfect,” Toph compliments enthusiastically, and you can’t help but laugh at yet another one of her blind jokes. You’ll miss those once you get back home.

The celebration will be starting soon, and so you join your friends on the back of Appa to fly through the skies and enjoy your time together before the night can end. You sit in the back with Suki who carefully adjusts the flowers in your hair and distracts you from the serious conversation Zuko holds with Aang.

“Are you excited to go back home?”

“Very, but I am going to miss you guys. I’ve spent a whole year with you all, it’ll be so strange being without you.”

“I’m sure we can visit you,” Suki suggests. “And don’t you have that tunnel thing with Zuko?”

“Yeah, we have a tunnel thing,” you nod, a faint smile playing upon your lips. A part of you is excited to see the tunnel again just because it’s been so long, and really it was probably the pivotal force on which your journey began. “I hope my people will be happy to see me.”

“They will. You are the Princess, after all.”

You don’t get to talk any further about the subject before brilliant bursts of fireworks begin to explode in the sky. They’re breathtaking, and by the looks of the crowd down below the Earth King has just announced the harmony restoration movement. Huddling close to Suki, you stare up at the display in awe and with a bittersweet sense of joy. Someone clears their throat from beside you, and both you and Suki turn to see Zuko smiling sheepishly at your pair.

“Mind if I steal my girlfriend away from you for a bit?”

“Not at all,” Suki smiles knowingly before scooting over and allowing you and Zuko some space to yourselves. His arm easily wraps around your frame and pulls you into his side, and already you can feel his warmth beginning to encompass you as you rest your head upon his shoulder.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You murmur in quiet appreciation for the fireworks.

“It is,” Zuko agrees with a faint smile. You’re too engrossed to notice the uneasiness in his tone, but he doesn’t want you to anyway. If you were to find out about the promise Aang had sworn to you’d surely delay your return home just to try and talk him out of it, and Zuko couldn’t have the Princess of the Southern Water Tribe missing on his behalf.

(At least not again.)

Besides, he’d made up his mind and he didn’t plan on changing it any time soon.

He hopes it’ll never come down to that, so for now Zuko is simply content with holding you close and enjoying your last peaceful night together in Ba Sing Se.

Spirits know it will be quite some time before you ever share a night like this again.

~~~

It’s strange being back home. Everything is so... different. Your tribe had dwindled significantly in number what with the casualties of the war, and the smaller villages that resided outside of the palace walls had been reduced to practically nothing. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walked off the ship alongside your mother, could hear their gossiping whispers about how much you’d changed and if you were back for good this time, and it made you anxious. You reach for a hand that isn’t there and have to remind yourself that you’re on your own now. Sokka, Zuko, and Suki are no longer around to provide you comfort, so you’ll have to rely on your own inner strength to make it through the day.

“Princess,” a snide voice you’re all too familiar with calls from front steps of the palace. “It is so wonderful to have you home again.”

“Thank you, Advisor Koa,” you reply calmly, bowing in respect to the man but never once pulling your gaze from him. The smirk that plays upon his lips has you fuming but you keep your emotions at bay and remain cordial.

Koa was your father’s most trusted advisor, but you yourself never found him to be very trust worthy. His eyes were always shifty and there was something in the way he carried himself that made it seem as if he had a big secret to hide. The way he talked to your father always came off aggressive and scheming, yet the chief said nothing. As unbearable as Koa could be, he had a bright mind and skillful war tactics, so he stayed in his position of power beneath the royal family. You were meant to marry his son Kai but had ran off with Zuko before the marriage could take place, and you were sure Koa must be bitter about the fact that he hadn’t managed to marry his way into your family.

“Did you enjoy your time galavanting with the Fire Prince while the rest of your tribe was left to fend for themselves in the result of your absence?”

“I helped the Avatar bring balance to the world which is more than you can say, Koa. Need I remind you you were the only man who chose to say behind during the war?” You snap back harshly, holding back a triumphant smirk at the man’s obvious annoyance with your insult. Two can play at that game.

“Always a joy,” he mutters with an insincere grin.

“Now if you’ll excuse me I have a tribe to run,” you say, but before you can even take a step towards the palace Koa is blocking your path.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. You see, the Southern Water Tribe already has a leader: me.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?” You retort harshly, features falling at the guilty look that forms on your mother’s face. “What is he talking about?”

“I couldn’t run an entire tribe by myself,” she admits desperately, pleading for you to understand. “With you and your father gone I had no choice but to accept Koa’s offer to stand in as Chief until one of you returned.”

“Well I have returned, and as the rightful heir of this tribe I am ordering you to step down!” You demand pointedly, blood boiling at the laugh that leaves Koa in response.

“You’re absolutely adorable,” he coos condescendingly, pinching your cheek before you harshly yank yourself away from his grasp. “Do you really think a little girl is capable of ruling?”

“I’m a water bending master and I helped the Avatar defeat the Fire Lord and end the war! I am not a little girl!”

“You were selfish and ran away from your duties. You left your people in their time of need. You’re lucky you were even allowed back here considering the treachery you’ve partaken in against the Southern Water Tribe.”

“Koa,” your mother interrupts timidly. “I may have put you in charge but I will not allow you to speak to my daughter that way.”

“My apologies, your highness,” Koa utters respectfully before returning his attention to you. A snide smile rests upon his lips. “It really was so lovely to see you again, Princess y/n.”

“Mother, you can’t-“

“Not now,” she consoles quietly, watching his triumphantly retreating form disappear behind the palace doors before glancing around at the small crowd that had gathered to observe the dispute. “If you want to get the throne back you can’t act irrationally.”

Your once hardened features slowly soften as you let out a defeated sigh, collapsing into the comforting embrace of your mother.

Restoring balance to the world hadn’t been enough to save face with your people, and now you found yourself entangled in a whole new fight. With your friends gone and your father unable to help you win the crown what were you to do?

So much for home sweet home...

| tags: @rainteslerrrr @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @taeeemin @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal |

[jacepens]

Hey, how u doing? I wanted to ask for you for indications on washette fanfics, what are the best that you have

p.s. and yes, I do want to hear as well about yours in that list as well, 'cause they're gold

Hey! I'm doing alright:) Thanks for asking! What about you? (is this the correct tumblr to anon etiquette?)

Oh goodness this is such a loaded question because the answer is many. I hope you're alright with a big list sorted by category <3

Fluff! Fluff!!

The French Mistake

One of the first washette fics I read, so it holds a special place in my heart. A little silly, a little lams, ultimately very cute and good time.

Under the Arches of Moonlight and Sky

Just very good, cute, soft weary bed sharing. (this is only wholesome, I swear)

Let's Dance

Short, sweet fic with dance instructor George and our beloved two left feet Laf:)

I Like You Better in Real Life

Did someone say Influencer/Youtuber!Laf and President!George?? No??! Well start and read this fic. Seriously, it's a longer one, and just really damn cute. A bit of slow burn in terms of internalized homophobia (done in a good way) and trans Laf?? Yes. It's really so good.

The Prince

Ok, ok, it's one of mine. The one chapter is deceiving, it's decently long and featuring Prince!Laf and Royal Knight!George!:) Also magic!! angst, fluff, denial of feelings but then of course love confessions;) after angst though, don't worry haha.

Fathoms and Foundlings

Ooooohh boy. This. This one. Mermaid Laf and regular ol George! So so so well written, I mean, the feelings, the war, the weather, literally everything you can name, it's spectacular in this fic. Be warned, it is incomplete, but I remember when the latest chapter was released when I lost all hope (plus the author is still active) so I definitely don't count this one out of being updated!:) But, I'll be honest, I'm unsure about it being finished BUT I still think you should 1000% read this because you really will not find something like it anywhere else and it's just so cute!! Did I mention fucking amazing?

Whom can we trust now?

Platonic washette!! Really well written and just altogether really well put together!:) comfort after Arnold's betrayal! Seriously, I highly recommend this fic it's just so perfect of their relationship and cuuute.

The Particulars of Language

Oh goodness. Oooh goodness. This is so so cute. A nice little blend of angst and fluff and did I mention internalized homophobia? (In a good way, if that makes sense) Also so well-written by an incredible author, I just- language confusion. Need I say more??

Marque

Ok, ok, it's been too long since I read this one, so I will say, it is very tentatively going in this category. I just love soulmate au washette! Angst! Kidnapping? ...no final chapter. So I'm not sure, it could've been planned on ending very happy and fluffy! I do believe overall, this leans on the darker side, but I know I really love this one and they love each other. I want more washette soulmate aus.

Breaks your heart, puts it back together

what's my name, what's my station

Oh God oh fuck it's this one. (said with love). Brutal? Hot? Expanding my vocabulary?? An incredibly beautiful use of metaphors??? Actually feel like crying when I read it. Yeah. This is amazing.

May the Melody Disarm Us

Oh Godd oh Fuck it's this one. (maybe I should change this section's title) this one isn't even angsty per se, it's just like...brutally beautiful. They love each so much but oh my god. The metaphors, the way the author sets the scene and environment and everything! Ugh. So so good.

Let Down My Guard

Oh dear lord in heaven above preserve me. I'm gonna be dramatic but there are simply not enough words in the universe I have that can describe how I feel about this fic and how damn incredible it is!! And boy do I mean it when I say this one breaks your heart and puts it back together. I have seriously never sobbed over any piece of fiction like I did this. Just ahhhh. The feelings they develop for each other, the confusion of cultures, the secrets revealed?? I didn't even tell you Laf is a mermaid yet. Just- please. Please read this. It will rip your heart out, but it will put it back together. But really, this is just a fucking masterpiece and so so beautiful.

Porn With Plot

that dress you like

Very nicely done smut + feels! (Did I mention how nicely it's all done?) Oh! Did I mention genderqueer Laf? Yes.

Mon General / My Marquis

Ok the only reason this is going in this category is because I find the others up there more heart-breaky than this one. I love this one!! The historical details! Their loving relationship!! Very very good and lovely. With some angst of course.

The Mistranslation

Oh God oh Fuck it's this one. (I'll be saying that a lot). Would you like all these categories put into one beautiful fic?? Here it is, here. It's incredible. Please read it. It's free serotonin. (Did I mention incredibly written??)

The Things I Would Do to You

Ahhh ok. So. Super duper sweet, lots of angst sprinkled throughout but Laf's visit to Mount Vernon + feels + (smut). Need I say more??! Seriously, this is wonderful.

Not So Easy to be the Teacher's Pet

Oh. Oh god it's this one. So this is borderline Oof (Laf is 17) but if that does not bother you, then you are in for a treat!(??) Ok but really, lots of feels, denial of feelings, way-too-sweet-for-his-own-good Lafayette and poor confused George. Just fantastic.

Devil to Pay

Hoooo boy. If you like pirates or sea adventures, (hot pirate captains. I'm just gonna say it) then I'm literally begging you to read this. Kidnapped noble Laf?? Slowly falling for the pirate captain Washington?? Not to mention so many maritime details and wonderful emotions, beautifully crafted just. Spectacular. Please, read it if you haven't. Even if pirates don't appeal to you, they will after this fic.

A secret weapon

Ahhhh!!! Thiiiiiis. Is everything. Ok, yes, it includes more than washette, but I mean come on, it's (sexy) demons. It's desperate Washington trying to win a war and fight his gay feelings (guess which fight he wins?) But also, super well written and detailed and feels!! I adore this fic, and the whole series is a treat. Go read it. It's wonderful, you won't regret it.

Oof (not in a good way)

The Sweet Enjoyment of Partaking

If the not-so-sweet side intrigues you more, this is one of the few washette fics that I do love and is...not so nice. It's really good as a not nice piece! Pretty straightforward and fucked up. Ya (I) love to see it.

Transmutation

Oooohhhhhh. This is a fic I didn't read for a while just because I didn't know what it was but boy let me tell you, it is soo good. I'll say it's not as oof as the fic above, but oooh maaaannnnn. I don't know how to describe it just, don't expect sweet things, but if darker takes are your thing please go read this. You will not regret it. It's so damn good.

OW

Day One Way, By Night Another

Ok ok here me out. This one might seem a bit random and it is. It's very short and for the longest time I didn't read it until I did and said ow because ow!!? I find this has the most impact going in unarmed so...watch out. (but like check it out. it's just so unique I really do love it)

Once More, With Feeling

Oh GOD. This one is quite brief and straightforward but if you are looking to rip your heart out with feels and angst then boy do I have the perfect fic for you. But seriously, it's so well-written and just expresses all the feelings so so perfectly. But at what cost? (Pls read it)

A Beautiful Tragedy

Hello darkness my old friend. Ok but seriously, this fic still remains so impactful in my own mind just as the writer. It's not a happy ending, but I try to leave you with hope. Pretty music that I highly recommend listening to, I don't know. I think it's really good, I don't say that often about my own stuff soo if you're ok with heavy amounts of angst and pretty aesthetics then check this ok!:) (but guard your heart, sorry not sorry<3)

Porn Without Plot

Betrayals and Allies

So, admittedly, this one very tentatively goes into this category because I find compared to the others, this one has less feels and less focus on it, but don't get me wrong this is very emotional!! It displays their relationship and love so cutely (and smutily..? new word) and as extra bonus it fills in the gaps of the deleted scene from Turn. You know the one;) It's very good!!

Cold Nights

Look at me adding another of my own. This is super duper short, but I kinda like how the emotions turned out. I think this was the beginning of my first dive into my current style of writing so that's cool I guess? But yeah no, it's porn without plot lol.

What Good is Honor When You're Starving?

Oh dear, another of mine in this category. I barely put this here, but the main focus is on the smut, but there are many many feels aplenty. Oh wait, did I mention vampire Laf? George definitely not falling in love... but really, I like how this one turned out!:) Good sexy vampire times (with feelings)

Ah wow! You stuck with me! Thank you! I...tried to keep it brief. This is not an exhaustive list by any means btw, there were a few (many) I decided to cut because I wanted this list to be all encompassing of many authors, styles, etc.

But anon, thank you for the ask and giving me the chance to rant about my favorite fics! My apologies on taking so long to finish, I hope you can understand my life has been a little hectic, but I always try to make time for washette;)

Thank you!!<3

[lordabovehelpme]

Hey Lordy I hope you’re enjoying your vacation!❤️ I was wondering if in the future you’ll write a flashback in your Days Filled with Love series to their wedding day? Knowing you, it would be the most adorable wedding ever and I’d LOVE to see that😘 Have a fantastic day! I send u tons of hugs!!!💖

Day of Remembrance - Din Djarin x Reader

Moodboard by the amazing @jedi-jesi

A/n: JESIIIIII!!!! NOOO THIS IS TOO CUTE. I LOVE THIS IDEA. I SAW YOU SENT THIS IN AND SQUEALED. HOPEFULLY THIS LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS!!! LOVE YA DARLING.

So this is the next chapter to my days with love series so I would highly recommend reading the other chapters first.

You can find the first part here :)

Also, I have no idea what actual mandalorian weddings are like, so please don’t comment “that’s incorrect” mostly becuase you would be right. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay all five are down and asleep.” Walking into the living room, you brush your hands on your skirt. Your husband sits on the couch, cleaning one of his blasters.

At the sound of your voice his helmet lifts to meet your gaze. When he sets the weapon down, you smile and rush to sit on his thighs.

“Well hello to you too.” Instantly, his hands latch to your sides and give you a playful squeeze.

Frowning, you tap the beskar helmet. “Why are you still wearing this?”

“I was waiting for you to come take it off me.”

Biting your lip, you grab both sides of his helmet and reveal his face to your home. When it reaches his forehead you stop and admire him. Big brown eyes stare at you with so much love it makes you dizzy. A small smile makes his lips slightly upturn and his cheeks are a little prickly.

Not being able to stop yourself, you press your lips to his own. “You’re so handsome.”

“Mmh.” Pulling away from you his eyes sparkle with lust. “You say that everytime.”

Scoffing, you playfully bat his shoulder. “No I don't! And even if I do, it is the truth.”

He chuckles and grabs his helmet, quietly setting it down besides you two. “You remember how that was the first thing you said to me on our wedding night?”

Placing a finger on your chin, you recall the eventful day, and night, of your wedding. “Wait, you’re right! Maker, I could have said anything else.” Shaking your head you bashfully tuck your head into his chest.

Two arms wrap around your back and rub circles into your sore muscles. “I wouldn’t have had it any different.”

***

A shiver runs down his spine as your fingers grasp the sides of his helmet. His hands rise to cover your own, neither pushing you away nor helping you. Uneasy, yet more excited than he’d ever been before.

Slowly, painfully slow, you start to lift his helmet from his head. Will you like him? WIll you think he’s ugly? Will this change how you see him?

As his helmet is fully pulled off he scans your face, searching for disgust and revoltance.

“Din…” Your voice is soft and gentle, wavering under the intense emotion of the moment. Letting the helmet drop to the ground, one of your hands moves to cup his cheek.

He releases a breath he didn't know he was holding and leans into your touch, a gesture that happens frequently. However, usually the extra weight of his helmet falls into your hand, but now… now it’s just him.

“You’re so handsome.” A large smile breaks onto your face and your eyes become watery. His stomach erupts in sparks, relieved that you haven’t rejected him. Your other hand rises to grasp the other side of his head, fingers tracing his features.

A smile of his own brightens his features and his chest swells with adoration.

His wife finds him handsome.

His wife.

Leaning down, he presses his forehead against your own. Slowly, he kisses each of your palms, as if trying to memorize every single inch of them.

“Kiss me?” He nearly melts at your request. Meeting your gaze he finds that words no longer form on his tongue. All he can do is close his eyes and press his lips upon your own.

Neither of you move, lips held against each other, perfectly content in the moment. He can’t even form a thought right now, not a single word pops into his head. It’s like he's become sedated with your touch.

One of his hands rests on your hip and the other grabs your cheek. You lean into him and start moving your lips against his. Groaning, he squeezes your side and starts to mirror your actions.

He can feel your smile as you grab his bottom lip, carefully biting it. His brain short circuits and he freezes. One of your hands trails around his neck and up into his hair. Fingers weave through the curls at the back of his head and slightly pull.

What once was a tender moment has turned into a hot passionate haze.

Breaking from your mouth, he attacks your neck. Latching onto your skin he groans at your taste. So sweet, he wants to tell you. However, it seems you’ve taken his speech when you put him under your spell.

“Din.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. He smiles himself when you lean your head, giving him more access to your addicting flesh.

Deciding that he needs air, he reluctantly pulls away from you. Both your chests move up and down as you suck in breaths.

Finally, he seems to have regained enough composure to form thoughts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Eagerly, his fingertips trail across your covered thigh.

“Never been more sure in my entire life.”

Smirking, he grabs your hips and lifts you up, only to throw you on the bed. Throwing his armor off as fast as he can, he crawls on top of you. “Good.” He whispers before mashing his lips upon your own.

***

The fireplace crackles and pops as it emits heat into your living room. Your head rests on his chest while his fingers rub away your stress.

Giggling you look up at him, “You wanna know my favorite part of our wedding?”

A hum of approval rumbles through his body to your own.

Laughing now, you shake your head. He looks down at you and smiles, finding your laugh contagious.

“What?”

“Remember how… how bad your hands were shaking?” You barely get the question out through your giggles.

Throwing his head back he groans, “I thought you didn’t notice.”

Now you really laugh hard.

***

Cara smiles at you from the small crowd facing you and Din. In her arms you can see Grogu squirm and point at you two.

The armorer nods at Din and he is presented with a ring. Not just any ring though. A ring made to perfectly fit your finger. Smiling you look at the missing piece of his armor. He had melted down one of his shoulder pieces to forge you a ring.

This is one of the things you love most about mandalorian culture, how these violent warriors hold so much sentimental value in things. He had insisted on not buying you a ring like other poor excuses of men and making you one, just as other mandalorians do.

He had spent hours and days on your ring, not settling until it was perfect. The worst of it though was how he wouldn't let you even peek at it.

You watch as he grabs the ring before lifting your hand. It’s a simple band of beskar, but the fact that he wore that beskar for so many years, then melted it down for you, makes your heart swell and your eyes watery.

His helmet tilts to look at you. A crack comes from his vocoder that you recognize as his breath. A hushed “I love you” quietly travels to your ears, and only your ears. Smiling, you softly utter the words back to him.

Looking down, you watch as he brings the ring to your finger. However, his hands shake and fumble. Slowly, he shakily slides the ring down your finger, letting it rest on the base. But his hand remains clutching your own, not wanting to let go.

People cry out with glee and clap as the armourer announces your names. Albeit, your eyes can’t leave your conjoined hands, even as he leans down and presses your foreheads together.

***

“Oh come on, it was cute!” Grabbing his cheeks you bring him to face you.

“It was embarrassing.”

Giggling you pepper his face with kisses. “Who knew I could make the strong mandalorian shake?”

His eyes stare at you with a haze you know too well. “I’ll make you shake.”

A small yelp escapes your lips as he twists you under him, encompassing your body beneath his own. He dives in and latches onto your neck, sucking and biting on already formed bruises. You giggle as his scruff tickles your skin.

“Don’t laugh, this is serious.” The words mean nothing as he chuckles himself.

“I can’t help it! I love you too much.”

He smiles and trails kisses all the way to your mouth. However, he just hovers over your own, millimeters apart. “Why did you stop?”

Opening his eyes, he looks at you with a soft gaze. “I’m so happy you married me.”

Your own face lights up with a megawatt smile and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into your kiss. “I’m happy I married you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: Family Day 

Well there it is. Again, please don’t comment saying how I wrote the wedding wrong. Becuase I really have no idea what they usually are like. The only weddings I have been in are my southern cousisns. So I’m pretty sure there won’t be any bbq at their weddings. Haha.

Anyway, feedback is always appreciated! 

Love you guys, Lordy :) 

Masterlist

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[the-voltage-diaries]

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου - Lucifer x Diavolo

AO3 Link

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου: Greek for ‘My Polar Star’

Word Count: 1859

A/N: I don’t know what this is. All I know is that @simpingw0lfi3​​​​​​​ refused to do it, so I did. Of course, please don’t expect this to be perfect because... it really isn’t. 

Vote of thanks: @akaiiro-yume​​​​​ for checking and correcting all the grammatical fuck ups I did, making sure I didn’t stop writing this halfway and going through any mental breakdown I might have had instead for me. And, of course, @some-ikemen-snob​​​​​ for making sure this SCREAMED Lucifer energy this way and that. only for now, but ily both.

Devildom 14th February, 20XX Saturday, 7:57 PM

Dear Diary,

      I suppose I've never written a journal entry such as this in the past, for I haven't found either the desire or the will to task myself with writing my thoughts down in a manner wherein I speak to an inanimate object. That said, I have been told writing is, in a manner of speaking, therapeutic, and I believe I could do with some of that right now. It would be false to assume I don’t still harbour any inhibitions towards using my time in this manner, especially when I'd much rather be by Diavolo’s side. The very same Diavolo who, as a matter of fact, happens to be the subject of this writing session today. Strangely enough, and if I recall correctly, he was also the one who introduced - which is putting it rather mildly - me to the “art” of journal entries. I admit, I haven’t given this activity the kind of gravity which was probably expected out of me, but then again, today is a little different from the rest. I'm not entirely certain as to where to begin, but I do believe I have been told in situations like these, one should do whatever... feels right.

      Diavolo is... well, where do I even begin? He is the future of Devildom, as a few might call it - myself included. While he does appear to be quite the cheerful and at times careless lord, it’d be a lie to deny that he is just as wise and compassionate underneath that wave of buoyancy radiating off of him. Honest to a fault, but with his moral compass always pointing towards the best interest of those around him. I’ll admit, sometimes it proves to be rather difficult to believe that he indeed is a demon. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to compare him to the Polaris considering he does quite radiate the charisma from himself, shining admirably amidst a dark sea of onlookers. While in name he rules over all the demons in the land of Devildom, the right set of eyes won’t take too long to deduce the eloquence with which his fingers reach out to the soul of every single resident of the land, holding them together better than gravity ever bound humans to the earth. 

      Saying that is all there is to him would be a lie whiter than the wet snow, making its way to the tips of my fingers and sliding off gently onto this page. That, of course, doesn’t mean describing how I feel towards him is no herculean task. There are some cases when a language -  no matter the plethora of vocabulary it offers - just isn’t sufficient enough, and this certainly is one of those cases. For the time being, let’s just owe my lack of articulacy to the bond of mutual respect and trust Diavolo and I share, built over centuries upon centuries, braving the ravages of time, and even perhaps the less than pleasing antics my brothers tend to pull. But while the impression the ruler of all demons and I tend to emit may seem to be distanced by a careful degree of professionalism, I don’t believe anybody knows that that might not be the case. Even Diavolo himself. Doesn’t come as a surprise, really, for they simply can’t know.

      Why do I believe that to not be the case, then? Well, I would wonder why I felt so strongly about it had I not known the reason myself. The very same reason which is now a secret so surreptitious that I can’t help but consider burning this piece of paper once I finish writing to ensure it is never revealed to another set of eyes. Such dastardly is the nature of this emotion, tricking one into its delusive warmth, encompassing them with the belief that nothing truly is impossible, that what they feel might just be true and meaningful enough to be returned by the other they feel for, only to cackle with glee and turn away when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy it was believed to turn out to be. The very same emotion which in layman’s terms is apparently called... love.

      I’m not entirely certain I understand the extent of its exquisite existence myself, to be truthful. All I know is no matter how intensely I try to shut the door on its escaping fumes, it turns futile the second I lay my eyes on the man in question. While the rest of the known universe sees an omnipotent leader binding everyone together, making them sing the same tune in harmony, I see what I can only consider an anchor, grounding me, making it so that I can’t ever fall into the abyss of the darkness that breathes inside of me and float away. He is the quintessence of the best of what the world has to offer, with his golden eyes sparkling like stardust, weaving their ever-lasting magic into the hearts of whoever they come across - be it human, or demon, or angel - wrapping them in their never-ending warmth, letting them sink into the depths of benevolence they promise. His hair are the cerise of a raging inferno, sheltering beneath their canopy a quick, sensible, erudite mind. His smile is but a warm culmination of everything optimistic and positive, like a flame inviting moths to it, reaching out to give their innermost yearnings a hand to grab on to and never let go. Simply divine. And this is where the paths diverge, I suppose.

      They see a to-be Demon King, I see Diavolo.

      But alas, love is a fickle mistress. Getting too lost in the charm of her alluring arms will only result in a doom of them wrapping around your neck, enticing, until you realise their hold is tightening. Not to hold on, but to suffocate. I might have gotten so lost in that fiery gaze that I didn’t notice it start to crawl along my skin, leaving a charred, burnt path in its wake. The very anchor which I believed to be the one to ground me and hold me close etched itself deeper into the oceanic floor of delirium, drowning me. The threads of his stardust wrapped themselves around me and clutched hard enough to strangle. Before I knew it, the symphony of something meaningful became the cacophony of a nightmare.

      This red thread strung through itself earlier today the series of events I’d rather forget. I’ve known how I feel towards Diavolo for a while now, and I had been searching for an opportunity to come clean and let him know about it for the last few days. Not to say I hadn’t gotten said opportunities at all, but one could owe it to me being too prideful to admit I was finally opening up to the idea of accepting feelings and... emotions. Around that time was when Solomon let slip a few details about the significance of Valentine’s day in the human world as an annual occurrence to celebrate romantic love, friendship, and admiration, and with enough persistence, Asmodeus managed to convince Diavolo to declare the day as an official holiday. Just a few hours ago I walked along the empty hallways to Diavolo’s office, knowing him, Barbatos and I to be the only ones in the building, still choosing work over any form of inactivity. By then, I had talked myself into finally telling the most powerful of all demons about the feelings I harboured towards him. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was indeed a tad hopeful, wishing for the feelings to be returned. Once I reached the door to his private office, my hand settled above the smooth hardwood to give it a knock. And that’s when I noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. I heard a voice inside, other than Diavolo’s, and I took the liberty to glance inside, only for my hopes to come crashing down when the realisation struck me: I shouldn’t have done that.

      Inside his office, Diavolo sat in his seat with his mouth pressed against another, a hand trailing across the small face with dark green locks framing it with elegance while the other held on to the person’s waist, pulling him closer. My eyes widened when the smaller man of the two let out a muffled whimper, perched on Diavolo’s lap. Barbatos. I felt my heart squeeze out a pained croak at the sight, and even though every single nerve in my body begged me to move away and forget I ever saw anything, my legs didn’t move. They stayed glued to their spot on the floor even as I felt it crumble beneath my feet, just the way my eyes stayed on Diavolo. My lip trembled with a longing I never thought I’d experience when Barbatos intertwined his fingers with Diavolo’s, smiling into the kiss they shared, like the perfect harmony which was always meant to be. It was when Diavolo broke the kiss, eyes meeting the other’s and whispers of love and confessions floating across the room until they settled on my ears, that I finally felt the mask crack. The facade I had worked on for centuries to lay the foundation of crumbled as my fists clenched, letting myself have a moment of weakness when a lone tear of frustration, delay, anger, and self loathing dripped down my cheek. I looked up at the ceiling, a voiceless laugh tumbling across my lips at the cognisance that the Polaris I was reaching out for, shining proud in the middle of a dark, cloudless sky, was beyond my reach, and... never supposed to be mine. How far I could stretch, how willing were my fingers to make one last attempt to touch it’s light and bask in it - all of that didn’t matter anymore.

      I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking once as I tucked away whatever it is I was going to tell Diavolo in some corner of my mind, crushing the key with a hard snap of my fingers. My eyes found Barbatos again, glazing over with a heartfelt wish for him to find his happiness, at least. It was with one last aching smile towards Diavolo and a euphoric laugh spilling from Barbatos’ lips that I turned on my heel, shaking my head at the fate I was handed. Needless to say, I hold no malice towards either of them - they’re both precious to me, as much as I dislike admitting it.

      I believe I have shared more than what was required, and I shall burn this piece of paper lest anyone finds it. One might call it wishful thinking on my part, but I do pray that watching the last signs of anything I harbour towards the one who wasn’t meant to be mine from the start burn as the embers of the fire consume it whole makes me put a lid on my feelings once and for all, for they were never supposed matter. They weren’t supposed to exist to begin with.

      After all, only a prince deserves a fairy-tale with a happy ending, and I am no prince.

Lucifer.

[magnoliapip]

Potential Open Heart Love Interests Who Were Wasted

By now, we all understand that Pixelberry has wasted every single fragment of potential that the Open Heart series had. Frequently overshadowed by aimless plotlines and unbalanced attention toward the four love interests we had is the vast array of potential love interests the OH series could have had. This list is the top 10 (yes, 10) love interests PB wasted. This means that this list will not be discussing the wasted potential in the four love interests we were handed (Bryce, Jackie, Rafael and Ethan).

Please note that some of these (especially toward the bottom) are included more for fan service than for actual wasted potential. Also, these are all my own opinions. Please feel free to share your own! There may be spoilers below. Viewer discretion is advised!

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#10 -- Baz Mirani

Not introduced until Book 2 of the Open Heart series, Baz is the friendlier and more outgoing of the two Doctors Mirani. One of the top in his field of immunology, Baz manages to balance his intellect with an easygoing nature. A relaxed positivity that almost comes off as too much. He was never really around enough, nor did he have the right interactions with MC in the series to feel like a fully developed love interest. However, after having the options in another PB book Laws of Attraction, it might have been interesting to see how it would turn out if MC could hook up with Baz.

#9 -- June Hirata

Also not introduced until Book 2, Dr. Hirata is a ruthless force to be reckoned with. A cunning behavior psychologist and brilliant neurologist, one can never really know what to expect from June, though this is mostly because no one can tell if her actions are genuine. After MC is told how June “earned” her place on the diagnostics team, it becomes clear that she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. Honestly, the prospect of having that directed toward MC...yeah, I want it. Badly. The only reason she isn’t higher on the list is because of her social inconsistency..

#8 -- Zaid Mirani

One of two senior residents introduced to the MC in book 1, Zaid is partly responsible for managing the interns. Zaid is the more blunt of the Mirani twins and can come off as an ass. He’s also shown to have a softer side that comes out in increasing increments throughout the series culminating in a touching moment in book 3. Once more, Zaid isn’t someone the MC interacts with a whole lot throughout the books, acting more as a recurring character to pop up once or twice a book, but I think that is a crock. I wanted more Zaid and I’m sorry we didn’t get it.

#7 -- Elijah Greene

A fellow intern at Edenbrook Hospital, MC meets Elijah in book 1 along with the rest of their group of friends. Elijah quickly becomes a steadfast friend and even a roommate. Clearly a brilliant doctor with a future in research, Elijah balances this with his upbeat personality and love of science fiction and gaming. Characters like Elijah often get relegated to the realm of being a best friend and it might have been nice to see him opened up as a possible love interest. He’s fiercely loyal, as seen by his defense in book 2 at the baseball game, and is steadfastly determined to get where he wants to be. There’s a lot to be admired in Elijah, but considering PB dropped his canon love interest, Phoebe, I shouldn’t be surprised that he was never an option anyway.

#6 -- Sienna Trinh

Sienna is literally the best.

I should just end it there because anyone who has read the series knows, but for the sake of this list…Sienna is an ally of MC’s right from the moment they meet, when Sienna helps get MC out of a sticky situation. This perfectly encompasses Sienna’s character. She spends the entire series taking care of everyone but herself and being just the sweetest, kindest, most amazing baker and chinchilla mommy that exists. After what happens in book 1 and book 2 with both of her canon love interests, well, #Siennadeservesbetter. And I think her fellow dolphin would have been the perfect person for her. 

The only reason she is so far down on the list is because she does make such an incredible best friend.

#5 -- Harper Emery

The female older mentor to match Ethan. Harper would have been in a more compromised position, not just being a direct superior to MC like Ethan, but also being the Chief of Medicine for the hospital. As an admin, watching her toe the line between desire and propriety would have been just *chef’s kiss*. Instead, her role was consigned to being the family member too hard on their younger charge, projecting what she wants but can’t have onto Aurora. Now that I think about it, that last sentence makes me want it even more.

Besides, it would have been another female love interest rather than the one that we seem to get every book and a woman of color at that.

#4 -- Landry Olsen

I know what you’re thinking but just hear me out for a second and then you can eviscerate me in the comments.

Landry is a character that has me torn in more ways than one. First, I love the twist in book 1 where we see him for who he “truly is”. It was unexpected and a lovely change.

That notwithstanding, I was also deeply saddened to see yet another promising story not come to pass. See, there aren’t many characters like Landry who are so incredibly awkward but also come off as friendly. It was a lovely change of pace and it would have been amazing, just the sweetest, to see MC bring Landry out of his shell. MC could have helped Landry gain confidence to do far more than talk to the girl across the bar. Before the end of the book, he would have been having a full ass conversation with Ethan and maybe even mustering up the bravery to ask MC out. All of the pieces were there, either as platonic friend or love interest. Instead, Landry lived long enough to see himself become the villain. But my friends to lovers slowburn adoring heart will always have a piece longing for what could have been. Judge me if you will.

#3 -- Tobias Carrick

Originally introduced in book 2 to be to Ethan what Mass Kenmore is to Edenbrook, Tobias’ story takes a flip once book 3 comes around. Immediately compelling from the get go, Tobias shows a charming competitive nature sprinkled with arrogance, grey morality, and a devilish side. Tobias’ personality would either be completely in line with MC or completely against MC depending on how you tend to play the game. Both are completely valid and interesting options. Even before the infamous beet puns in book 3, Tobias made me want to know more. Tobias was the ultimate character in the Open Heart series that would have made a perfect one night stand. Alas, it seems we’ll never know more and must stick to the fantastic fanfiction writers on sites like this to sate us.

#2 -- Aurora Emery

Let me tell you, the line between #’s 1 and 2 is so thin it’s barely there. Those two are so close I almost can’t distinguish which one I wanted more. Aurora is first presented to MC and the gang as an intern who seems like she may become an antagonist of the series. As Book 1 presses on, we start to see Aurora in a whole new light. MC comes to understand why Aurora has the cold and closed off personality she does and when given the chances later in the series, Aurora opens up into almost an entirely different person as she finds herself outside of the expectations of her family.

Aurora is a brilliant doctor very nearly on the same level as MC and later seems to become a parallel to MC for what Tobias is to Ethan. Thankfully Aurora and MC’s relationship is a lot less volatile, but those brief fireworks make me really wish Aurora and MC would have officially been a thing. I feel like PB was weighing the option for a while but decided against it, much to their detriment.

However, I had to push Aurora down for one specific reason to come in the explanation for #1. And #1 is…

#1 -- Farley the Landlord

Be honest. After having Landry on this list, you thought this was a serious entry for a second, didn’t you? Just kidding!

(the real) #1 -- Kyra Santana

Kyra meets MC for the first time when Ethan dubiously introduces her to them because Kyra broke her arm in an accident. Right from the start, Kyra is an incorrigible flirt, obviously egged on by her cancer diagnosis and fear of death. Kyra has such an incredible story. Throughout books 1 and 2, Kyra is an incredible friend to MC and it breaks my heart that PB dropped her romantic storyline the way they did.

This is why Kyra edged out Aurora for #1. Going back and re-reading book 1, it’s always obvious that Kyra was meant to be a love interest. I’m not sure what stopped them from going forward with it. I’d like to think it had something to do with potential backlash for having a patient and their doctor get involved, but I think it has more to do with being a woman or a woman of color than anything else. Which is a damned shame. We stan Kyra Santana in this house and I wanted to leave with her at the end of book 2.

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So what do you all think? Do you agree with any of my placements? Vehemently disagree with others? I wrote this at 2am when I couldn’t sleep and didn’t bother to proofread before posting so you’re welcome.

Let me know below and cross your fingers for the finale of Open Heart book 3 coming later today!!