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the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes · 7 months ago

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𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈: 𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝒾𝓈 𝒮𝑒𝑒𝓈, A Fic in the Theia Universe

Pairing: F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes) x Valentino

Story Summary: Theia is done with Tino's insolence. Maestra will have him how she wants him: on his knees and begging for her, and he'll like everything she allows him to have.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Knife, blood, tentacles, Valentino

Theia materialized in Tino’s porn studio with a sigh and a smirk. As she glanced around, she saw the employees hard at work making their usual drivel. If she had her way, they’d be making better content with far more interesting scripts. The actors were decent, and Angel Dust—who apparently was taking one of his rare days off today—was a star in disguise. He could be doing real films, not porn, if he had the right guidance.

She would change this place so they made art not just sex, with stories so compelling and interesting that the sex was just a delicious and delightful bonus. They’d make shitty porn too, to appeal to those who wanted it, expected it to be churned out en masse as it always had been, but the idea of branching out into something better and more was so tempting she could taste it.

There were a few ways of getting what she wanted, but whenever she looked at Valentino, she knew what choice would be best. He sat in his favorite chair, legs crossed over each other and nursing his cigarette holder as usual. He looked bored. No one should ever be bored behind the camera, especially when the topic was porn. If he was really that bored doing his job, he should be removed from it entirely, let someone else handle it for him. She shivered at the idea of him at her feet while she did his job instead. He needed to be put in his place.

Just like always, it took him quite some time to notice her, even when she was feet from his favorite chair beside the director. When his gaze finally caught hers, she saw him swallow a gulp, and she stalked the few feet towards him as his employees and soul contracts bolted from the studio yet again. “Ugh, Ojitas, to what displeasure do I owe your visit to my humble sex dungeon this time?”

He blew smoke throughout the room, taking a drag off his cigarette holder, but just like always, it had no effect on her. He did it out of comfort to himself more than anything else. The hands not waving the cigarette holder around were splayed in a grand, mocking gesture, but it didn’t last long as she closed the gap between them.

“Tino, Tino, Tino.” She tsked at him, blinking her twenty-nine eyes and shaking her head. “I hear you haven’t learned the lessons Maestra has been trying to teach you.” Unsheathing her angelic blade knife covered in eyes, she slid it against his neck and leaned over his chair with a smirk. “I told you that bad little pupils get punished. I’m here to make good on that.”

He squirmed in his seat, and she laughed. It was cruel and amused, thrilled at the notion that she’d caught him off guard. “You’re such a pathetic little puta, aren’t you Tino, desperate and squirming for me under my knife. You’d beg so prettily wouldn’t you, let me tear you apart, limb from limb, while your stupid little LED lover watches from his network of cameras for just a taste of this coño, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes, M-Maestra.” Tino kept squirming, three of his four hands gripped the chair tightly. “Are you going to let me finally taste you? I know it’ll be simply delicioso.”

“I’ve considered it, and while I’m sure you’re quite skilled, it’s truly a damn shame.” She ran the hand that wasn’t holding the knife to his neck across his face and down his torso. “It’s a shame, Tino, because bad pupils don’t get rewards. You know this.” She tsked again, and nicked him with the blade. He hissed as his blood seeped from where she’d dug it into his flesh. She hummed as she contemplated it. “Yet I suppose I can make an exception, find a way to make it another lesson.” She decided with a smirk, grinning toothily down at him. “Up, Tino. Out of the chair and on your knees.”

She laughed as he very nearly tripped over himself, scrambling to the floor, his cigarette holder dropping into the chair, still lit. Kneeling before her, he was still very tall, but he had been quick to follow her instruction. He wouldn’t get praise, of course; she wouldn’t praise a pupil who’d been so bad, who insisted on ignoring the rules of her classroom over and over again, but she’d take what she wanted from him and he would be pleased with it.

Knife still to his neck, she lifted her right foot and pushed him onto his back, getting him to turn with the angle of her kick. He toppled effortlessly, and she snickered. “So desperate to please me.” She removed the blade from his neck and moved it lower, trailed the knife up his torso to his neck again as she moved to stand above his face. As she smirked down at him and tugged on her collar, her dress shortened as it retreated up her thighs, and she knew he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath, had arrived with this in mind.

“You’re going to be a good little pupil and make me cum. Dare to try and touch me and The Thousand Eyes will strangle you.” She bent her knees and he shivered as she squatted down above him. She jeered at him as she hovered an inch from his face. “You’d like that; of course you would, my tentacles wrapped around your limbs, choking you as you struggle for air, your tongue deep inside me. Such a desperate little slut for me.” Her knees hit the plush purple carpet on either side of his face. “Get to work.”

She mercilessly pressed herself against his face, refusing to care if he had air to breathe as she felt that impossibly long tongue escape to tease her folds and slip inside. She’s wet already, was drenched at the mere notion of him on his knees, and now that he was here between her thighs, she was soaked and wanting, but she knew this game they played, knew better than to let him know how badly she wanted this. She was in control, and she would ride this high of his submission to her for as long as she could manage it.

Grunting as his tongue found that spot inside her, she jerked into it and arched her back. She could feel him grinning up at her, teeth nipping, and she ground against it, enjoying how sharp they were against her sensitive flesh. He was slow and deliberate, and she snorted in response. “Surely you can do better than that.” She tugged on her collar again absentmindedly, and the back of her dress lowered to her hips. She dug the blade deeper into his neck, and another rivulet of blood dribbled in its wake. “Fuck me like you mean it, or I’ll have to punish you for your insolence.”

A choked moan escaped him and she saw his hands reach for her. With a snarl, she arched her back, and The Thousand Eyes emerged to pin each of his arms to the carpet beneath him. One of the tentacles wrapped around his throat and gave it a squeeze. “You were warned.” She punctuated this with a grind against his mouth and the appendage around his throat constricted as he groaned against her folds. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, spread out at my mercy and servicing me. He’s watching, you know, watching and getting off to it I’m sure. He loves it when you’re like this, desperate and at his feet. This is just as good if not better I’m sure, in your place and eager to serve, but he doesn’t have to deal with your constant bitching.”

He nipped at her folds cheekily, and she looked down at him with a harsh glare, letting the knife slice deeper into his flesh. “If you’re going to be a brat, at least bite me harder.” She snapped as he groaned at the blood that leaked from his neck. He complied, and she dug the blade deeper into his throat, the tentacles squeezing deliciously as she did so.

His tongue swiped her clit and she purred. It egged him onwards, and she thrust into his mouth, grinding against his teeth as she grew closer to the edge. “That’s it, Tino,” she crooned as the blade nipped at his throat again, “make me cum like a good little pupil.” He doubled his efforts, and in only a breath or two, she was arching and keening into his face, her thighs clenching down on him as she came on his tongue, a low moan escaping her lips as she did so.

As she breathed through it, she rode his face, enjoying the high of him stretched out beneath her, plaint and willing to service her in any way she wished. When she’d come down from the high, she smirked down at him as she pulled back from his face. “Now beg, Tino.” She crooned as she slid the blade farther down his chest, cutting through his robe and piercing his skin. “Beg for me to fuck you, to let you sheathe your pathetic little polla inside my wet, hot pussy. Beg, and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“P-please, Maestra,” he began as she continued to trail the knife over his clothes, slicing them apart, “please, I need it.”

“I’ve seen your films, Tino. Surely you can put on a better performance than one of your new virgin whores.” She cackled at the oxymoron and tore open his pants. “I’m waiting.” She pressed the blade to his hip, digging it into his flesh, and he bucked into the pain, his limbs struggling against her tentacles that were still holding him firmly in place.

“Please, Maestra,” he began again, and she smirked, raising an eyebrow as she traced the blade across to his other hip, “please, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you cum around my polla. I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? Let me prove just how bueno I can be~”

“You hardly deserve it, little pupil; you’ve been so naughty lately, ignoring Maestra’s lessons.” She hummed, considering his request. “Perhaps there’s a way that I can enjoy myself anyway.” She decided as she pulled him free of his confines and cackled at the sight of him. “I’ve seen so many cocks, Tino. You may think you’re mierda caliente because you’re bigger than Vox, but you should know full well you’ll never be impressive, and quite frankly, I’ll barely feel it inside me.” She pulled the knife from his skin as she straddled his hips, and he swelled as she did so. It teased the outside of her folds and he groaned. “I’m not doing this for you, and you’re going to do all the work. Do not cum until I say or there will be far worse consequences than you can fathom.” He let out a moan and she narrowed her gaze at him. “Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Maestra! I won’t cum until you say! Please, por favor, just let me feel you on my cock, please!” He pleaded as he struggled against her tentacles, but the grip they held on his limbs was too much for him to fight against with any real purchase.

“So the pupil can learn. Good.” As she slid him inside of her, she fought the urge to let out a moan. For all that talk to degrade him, he was still quite large, and she had always loved the size of a massive cock splitting her open. When he was fully sheathed inside her, she fixed him with a glare. “Well then, get on with it.” The knife met his skin again, and he complied to her instructions, bucking into her hips as she stayed exactly as she was, sheathed and waiting. She sighed as he slipped into her deeper, filling her fuller, and she quirked an eyebrow again. “Faster.” She demanded, and when he didn’t comply, she slapped him across the face. “Faster, or I’ll cut it off when I’m done using you.”

“Y-yes, M-Maestra!” He stuttered out and picked up the pace. It was hard for him at that angle, writhing against her tentacles and using his entire weight to thrust up into her faster and faster; she smirked harder as she grew closer, and a tentacle forced one of his hands to her clit to stroke her, making him touch her exactly as she wanted.

As her second orgasm loomed closer, she arched into his touches, gliding easily over him as she took him deeper, crooning as she drug the blade up across his torso to his neck again, rivulets of red flowing in its wake as he let out a sob. She purred at him, “Make me cum, Tino. Get what you begged for: me cumming around your cock just like you begged so prettily.” He quickened his fingers against her clit, and she choked back a cry as she came with a smirk on her face.

“Take what Maestra gives you like a good little pupil.” She rode him as she orgasmed, spasming around his cock, and as she felt him pulled achingly closer towards his peak, she sneered with delight. “Now beg me to let you cum, you pathetic little whore. Plead with those pretty words of yours while I keep riding your cock.”

“Please, Maestra!” He sobbed out and she smirked harder as he began, tears sliding down his face. “Please, I’m so close; please let me cum, please!” His glasses were askew, and his gaze was pleading and desperate, staring into hers with an intensity she craved. “I’ve-I’ve been so good for you!” He pleaded as she grabbed him by the base, preventing his orgasm from crashing over him even as she rode him harder. “Por favor, Maestra, please let me cum!”

She hummed as she felt another orgasm building at the idea of telling him no, making him beg, getting herself off again and then just leaving him to take care of himself, but as he pleaded and moaned, she considered another idea. “One one condition.” She said as she rode harder, her tentacles making him flick her clit just like she liked, pulling her closer to that peak a third time.

“Anything!” He pleaded as he writhed, and she saw how swollen he was, felt how close to the brink he was inside her. With just a word, he’d cum with a shout, and she nearly howled at the power it gave her to have him at her mercy. “Anything, Maestra, please!”

“Anything, hmm?” She breathed out as she grew impossibly closer to her own peak. “I don’t want anything, little pupil,” she moaned as she felt those fingers graze her clit again and he pistoned deeper inside her walls at just the right angle. “I want everything. You want to cum, Valentino? Give me your soul. Give me every soul in your keep. I want your power, and I want your body. You and everything you have will be mine, because you wanted this pussy. Tell me it’s worth it, that you’ll give me everything and I’ll let you cum, you stupid little whore.”

The lights flickered. Perhaps it was a warning, she supposed, as bulbs popped and wires hissed, electricity crackling but daring not to come near. She smirked into the nearest camera as Tino screamed.

“Yes!” He sobbed as he continued to pound inside her, pistoned hard and deep as he wailed desperately to cum, tears streaming across his face. “Everything, Maestra, todo, just let me cum, please!”

She bent down and purred into his ear, “Deal.” She licked his neck. “Say it back to me, and then cum, little pupil.”

“Deal!” He wailed, and she released the base of his cock. He came in an instant, spilling inside her, and he howled as she bit into his flesh, the knife still at his throat. As the golden deal appeared as a collar on his neck and underneath it lay her golden eye with a silver iris, she felt the chain in her hands and she came around him, cackling with bliss. She’d done it, and she felt a power surge through her. It blew out every camera in the room, and they were plunged into darkness. She rode through her high, milking him into her, and when she was done, she held him by the chain as she sat on his face.

“Eat every drop of your cum from inside me, little slave. You’re mine now, and you’ll do as you’re told.” He moaned into her pussy and lapped at her over-sensitive flesh. She felt another building inside her as she felt his cum slide into his waiting mouth, as he ran his tongue through her folds, collecting every last drop just as he’d been ordered.

“I’ll give the porn industry the boost it needs. The workers deserve so many good things, and I’ll be here to give it to them. You treat your contracts like filth, Tino, and now I’m going to put you in your place. You’ll be at my feet like the little slut you are, desperate and wanting my attention and my pussy like you have since you met me. I’m going to show you how this place should be run, and you’ll thank me every chance you get for making your afterlife so much easier. Isn’t that right, little Tino?”

He nodded his head vigorously as he murmured, “Gracias, Maestra.” It was muffled, of course, by the weight of her on his face, but she crooned at his words, and she came at the thought of him servicing her whenever she liked.

“Finally,” she scolded him, “finally you’re a good little pupil. Finally you learn the lesson I’ve been trying to teach you, hmm: that you’re mine, that you’re to obey, that you’ll do as you’re told. Such a good little slave for me.” She slid off him and sheathed the knife, licked his wounds to close them, and collapsed beside him. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, you and I. We have a porn industry to change from the bottom up, after all. Wrap your arms around me and sleep, pet. Maestra will take good care of you.”

She settled into his arms as she freed them from her tentacles, but let them blink down at him as she did so. They’d settle back inside her as she fell asleep, but in the meantime, they stroked his body to lull him into slumber. When she felt him relax, his body flush against hers, she closed her eyes and welcomed it too. She’d have so much fun tomorrow, but in the meantime, all she wanted was sleep.

A/N: This little fic does not fit with canon from any of the other timelines that Theia has. It is a oneshot that exists in its own, and I'm unlikely to return to this universe but I make no promises either way. Her main story is an Alastor x Reader, but she has been known to get around, especially with my friend's OCs. I'm really excited for All Seeing Circus, my wifey and my new fic about Peppermint Patches x Theia. Mint is my jester husband and I want him carnally. 100/10, no notes. I could be pursuaded by my lovely wifey who I wrote this for to write more if she so wishes ;) I hope you like my present @muppetdust; I wrote this just for you~

Theia's Masterlist

#demon of a thousand eyes #the demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel fanfiction #theia #hazbin hotel oc #eye #eyes #valentino x reader #reader x valentino #oc x valentino #valentino x oc #smut #valentino x oc smut #valentino x reader smut

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leleamo · 9 months ago

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my version of Kfp4 for my au/rewrite

hello! how are you? As the title says, I'm going to rewrite kfp4, but before that, I'm going to say a few things first, firstly, I'm not going to write it as if it were a book story, because honestly it's lazy, and secondly:

What did I think of the film?

good, 7.0/10, I won't say more than that, since that's not the focus, and third:

What is a film rewrite?

according to Google "It's a search to really improve the narrative, and not just the formatting of the script" that's it, that's all I wanted to say, now, let's get to the rewriting...

everything would start with a festival, nothing very important, just a celebration, but at a certain point, Shifu tells Po that as long as Po is still the warrior dragon, Shifu will be the spiritual leader of the Valley Of Peace, which made Po think...

the scene cuts, we go to Po in the peach tree at night, but Tigress was approaching with his dinner, and Po says what happened, he is worried, if to become the warrior dragon he needs to go through an enemy as powerful as everyone he have faced so far, what could be coming? to Po and the future dragon warrior, but Tigress said not to worry, because if he could defeat Tai Lung, the future dragon warrior would be able to defeat whoever he was, but before Po could thank him, an explosion came from the village!!

it was an invasion! the villagers screamed, the furious five fought with the guards who protected their leader's palanquin! Po ran to the palanquin, but was caught by a cage! nothing brittle, but then Po only saw the silhouette of the leader

"What an honor to meet the Dragon Warrior face to face..."

Po is kidnapped, and the furious five still can't go after their friend, they had to protect the valley from the domain of the mysterious reptile, and after a while, they arrived in the Jupiter City.

Po (who had slept for a long time on the trip) woke up, in a room that looked like a closed area, and saw her... the leader with he staff...

"who are you?! what do you want with the valley of peace??!"' asked Po..

"no one knows my real name since I took control of this city.. heh.. they call me The Chameleon."

Chameleon told her story to the panda, who left home to become a Kung Fu master, but was devalued several times, and realized that only the lucky ones got a chance, the failures didn't... (as she spoke, the staff did the chameleon scenes in the past with her chi, what was that cool idea for me)

After telling her past, Chameleon says that Po is one of those lucky ones, but that everyone paid, when she dominates all of China and shows how powerful she is...

Anyway, the furious five went after Po, and Shifu was left to take care of the valley, but someone appeared during the chaos and the evacuation of the village... Peng!

Peng, who had only come to visit, was scared by the situation, but Shifu explained everything, so, determined, they went help Po

going back to the Chameleon, she would already be invoking Tai lung, and stealing he kung fu (instead of being the villains, let's put the people who are in the spiritual realm, Kai and Fenghuang just because they are super powerful), and instead of invoking Kai through the realm of spirits (she's not going to summon Shen, send him to shit) she made a portal to the realm of demons with her own magic, and in addition to summoning Kai, she also summons the (beautiful, wonderful, absolute) Fenghuang

After stealing their Kung Fu, they manage to escape, but the Chameleon doesn't even care, they are really weak, but just in case, she tells Zhen to go and observe them...

but instead of our three villains coming together, they separate. In this separation, Fenghuang ends up meeting Zhen; Tai Lung with Shifu and Peng; Zai with the furious five.

Fenghuang found out the news from Zhen, about Po being the master of chi, bla bla, and Fenghuang decided to get his Kung Fu back, and Zhen (who was making fun of Fenghuang whenever he could) went along for fun.

Kai, who was still frightening with his blades, made a deal with the furious five, that if he got his Kung Fu back, he wouldn't kill them, anyway, deal made.

and now Tai Lung... well, he changed in the spirit realm, after a loving reunion with his father and being surprised to meet his nephew, they already knew what to do, save Po and stop the Chameleon's domination!

so, until a certain part, the film would separate between: Fenghuang and Zhen, F5 and Kai, Tai Lung and Shifu and Peng

Po (still in prison) would often be visited by a chi version of a chameleon (which would not be done by her, but by the staff in question)

until the 3rd act, Fenghuang and Zhen will develop a friendship and this counts for the rest of the other team, unfortunately I have no idea for a moment between the Chameleon and Zhen

Anyway, in one part everyone is captured by the Chameleon's army except Tai, Kai and Zhen, so the three of them have to go save the day! hehe (and during this time Zhen manages to make friends with Po, as Fenghuang herself comments a lot about her)

anyway, at the end there is an epic fight with that epic form of the chameleon, and in the end the Chameleon would go to the valley of peace to learn Kung Fu with Peng, Kai and Tai return to the spirit realm, in Kai's case more because Po wanted it and Fenghuang, he got a second chance, and went to the valley of peace... and that's it! end!

Sorry for my laziness in writing this, I was a bit unwilling and it would probably be better if I was more motivated

Unfortunately, one thing was left out of all this, the fact that Fenghuang already knew Tai Lung, anyway, maybe I'll make a post about it later, I'll go, bye bye

(@tesla-runner remember when I talked about my rewrite? Well...)

#kung fu panda #kung fu panda 4 #kfp #kfp 4 #rewrite #kfp au #kfp po #kfp shifu #kfp five furious #the chameleon #kfp tai lung #kfp kai #kfp fenghuang #kfp zhen #kfp peng

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

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I’m so proud I’ve been here long before 2k💁🏼‍♀️ N E WAY CONGRATSSSSS!!!

Can I have fluff 16 with a twist tho, like “My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." with Gojou, Fushiguro, Itadori and a fem reader? If 3 characters are way to many you can keep only Gojou. Keep being amazinggg<3

thank you so much!! <3

Gn!Pronouns, but you are implied to be female!

Cw: an itsy bitsy hint of angst, slight confessions, reader panics,

a/n: these were almost criminally fun to write, I love these three so much

Gojou Satoru

Words: 700

You had no idea how a simple piece of paper could make you feel. Awkward, confusion, shock, all from one note that you thought was a bill.

‘Y/n L/n save the date!’ was the last thing you had expected, from your ex-boyfriend nonetheless. The same guy who dated you for a whole three years before telling you over text that it wasn’t going to work out.

Well, the both of you never had a bad relationship after, but you were a severe level of butthurt. But what made you really freeze was the plus one invitation, if you showed up to your ex’s wedding you would look like a loser.

Since you were clearly going, you’d never miss on free food and a chance to have a day off, you needed an outfit and a date. The outfit was pretty easy to figure out, you’d go shopping on the weekend and buy something then.

But someone to go with? You had about three friends whom you knew could not afford any days off and that you just didn't want to take. (at least you had some last resorts) Then, another problem, if they weren’t part of the Jujutsu world it would be harder to explain if you had to abruptly leave, which was a huge possibility this time of year.

With that, your options were cut down to two- Nanami and...Gojou, of all people.

Obviously, you tried, emphasis on tried, Nanami first. But after 24 missed calls and a 15-second conversation where he basically told you to shove it, you were in full-on panic mode. The wedding was in three days and you had to do something about your inevitable loneliness.

You had to get over yourself, the worst Gojo could do was make fun of you or say no. But, he never passes up the opportunity for sweets, just lay on the dessert y/n!

“To what do I owe this sweet phone call Y/n? Confessing your love for yours truly?” his voice laughed through the line. You just had to ask him in a way that would compel him to want to come with you.

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you blurt not even thinking about the words falling from your lips.

You come to realize your words from the ringing silence in your ears, “I’m sorry I just-”

“I’ll come” he answered, cutting off your apologies. He’ll come, you didn't even have to say anything about sugar or bribe him into coming.

“You’ll come? Really? Why-wait Thank you! It’s on Saturday at 3 pm, we can go together if that makes things better! Thank you so much, you just saved me Gojo! How can I make it up to you!” you were just spouting whatever you could to thank him, listening to his daughter from his side.

“Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with my little Sugar? You can make it up to me by wearing your prettiest little dress so we’ll be the hottest couple at the wedding.” he teased, continuing ranting about how you should match colors to add ‘flare’.

“While we’re there we can start planning our own wedding! Doesn’t that sound fun Sugar!”

Fushiguro Megumi

Words: 700

“What even is that” Megumi’s voice rang through the office hallway. You’d like to know too, you haven’t spoken to anyone from your hometown, save for our family, since you moved away six years ago.

“I’m not totally sure, you want to open it with me?” you question opening the door to your office as he silently follows you in.

Settling the rest of the mail down, you take a closer look at the suspicious envelope noticing the name on the return address. There's no way! Why the hell was your ex sending you things to your official workspace?

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?” Megumi doesn't know what to do, your face went pale and you looked super confused.

“Oh, nothing really. I’m just surprised, it’s from my ex” well now he was frozen, was it a love letter? Why was he sending you stuff, he just hoped that it wasn't bad, you had enough on your plate and you didn’t need more.

Opening the envelope to see flower patterns and script lettering; you know exactly what this letter will be telling you. Just as you suspect a date plastered on the card along with two all familiar names flood your senses.

“He’s getting married!” you couldn't believe it, why would he invite his high school ex to his wedding, it was an odd choice, to say the least.

“That’s cool I guess, anyway I gotta go, have fun,” he murmured leaving the room and letting to wonder if you were even going to show up in the first place, but at the moment you send an email and reserve a spot for yourself and admittedly a plus one that didn’t exist.

You would figure it out in due time!

❍❍❍

You did not figure anything out and the wedding was tomorrow. No one in their right mind would drop everything to come to some random wedding. Your point proved when Itadori explained he had plans to go see a movie marathon with Jumpei that he just couldn’t cancel.

Not even Nobara would spare you some mercy, she and Maki were having a pre-planned girls' day, one that you would be going to if you hadn't agreed to go to some random wedding.

Now you could only pray that Mehgumi felt enough pity that he would go with you. Deciding that a call would be too impersonal and would be easier to say no over, you make your way to his apartment with a box of dumplings that you knew he loved.

“Gumi-chan? Open up please!” you knocked on the door waiting for him to come, him appearing a few seconds later; hair messy in sweatpants and a black tank-top. No- this isn’t about his body, it could be, but you had to get this settled first.

“Uh? Did I miss something? Why are you here?” his questions break you from your stare as you shove the food in his arms, gathering all the courage you could muster.

“These are for you and all you need to do is hear me out, please? I would really like you too!” you beg, watching as he silently commanded for you to continue.

“As you know, my ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see." you kept your head low as you explained to him what had happened, “I really need you to do this for me, I'll give you anything I swear! Just help me this once!”

“Why do you need me?” he mumbled, commanding your attention back onto his face.

“Because it’ll be fun and you need to get out.” ‘and this is my way of asking you out but not asking you at the same time’ goes unsaid.

“Fine, but you have to come to dinner with me the next time my dad asks.” that was it you, ultimatum, an easy one too.

“Deal! Now we have to match or it’ll look stupid, and we have to practice dancing and-”

“Dear Lord, what did I get into”

Itadori Yuji

Words: 600

You’d pinned the invitation above your bed as a constant reminder that you had to do something.

Not that you cared what your ex thought of you at their wedding, but something deep inside wanted to show him that you were happy without him.

And the only way to do that was to shove a hot guy down his throat; better yet, a totally hot guy that was into you. Now all you needed was a hot guy to be into you.

Well, you had a hot guy to go with you. In a desperate plea, you had asked your good friend Itadori, formally known as the vessel of another somewhat friend Sukuna, and he had agreed.

Just thinking about it made you cringe a bit; you had been freaking out and ran to his apartment, drenched in rain.

“My ex just invited me to their wedding and I need you to be my date so it doesn’t look like I’ve spent the last few years being single and hunting down weird things most people can’t even see," you explained frantically, waving your hands. Watching his face contort into every human emotion you could think of, before spreading into a smile.

“Of course I’ll come with you! It sounds like a blast!” of course Sukuna had a few choice words to say about that, something along the lines of, ‘you're not dragging me to some stupid event because you're lonely! I refuse!”

And he continued to complain throughout the night of planning and the next morning when you told him he was going whether he wanted to or not and he told you he’d rather die.

“This Wench will not dictate my life!” he spoke through a mouth on Yuji’s cheek, eye slit glaring in your direction.

“And I’m not letting some lame demon tell me what I can and can’t do with my friend!” you argued back.

But he didn't have a say anyway.

Now you were standing before a mirror, admiring how your dress wrapped around your body, waiting for Itadori to come to the door.

Hearing the knocks on your door, you grab a small bag and your invitations and your plus one, opening the door to Yuji in a three-piece black suit, staring at you with wide eyes.

“You look great-”

“You look crazy beautiful-”

Both of you freeze at the word mix-up, then breaking into laughter as you loop your arm through his outstretched one.

“Seriously you look great, y/n. You have that guy wishing he’d never let you go! Wait then you wouldn’t be with me, so just make him miss you a bit but not too much!” he stammered out as you continued your way to his car.

“You are the worst two humans in existence.”

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

I love your “little moments” series… I have a weak spot for dad!Harry💕 and I love the relationship between the family’s members 🤗 and I really hope u will continue to update it! And for this series I would like to request Harry doing the 73 questions interview for Vogue and his kids and wife make an appearance (u can choose if the kids are toddlers or teens) and they even answer some questions OR an Howard Stern interview where Harry is asked about his family,maybe the host makes like not so nice-low key shady comments on his wife and on Harry’s daughter coming out story. Ok I’ m done, so sorry ik it’s so long 😅 it’s just I love your series sooo muchhh 🥰🥰 ok I’m done love u have a good day 😘

i’d love to answer this one!! thank you so much for loving my little series💕this one’s for you and for the other request i got which i’m combing with this: “Harry is doing a interview on facetime when his kid crashes the interview.” so pls enjoy and yeah enjoy;

oli - 6, felix - 4, belle - 1

The day had finally arrived for Harry Styles to complete the 73 Questions with Vogue.

It had come to be the promo for ‘Don’t Worry Darling’ and his schedule was booked with interview after interview after interview, and it wasn’t ideal for this to all be happening months whilst also having to look after three meddling toddlers, one of whom had only recently turned 1 years old.

The house was chaos. Fun, but chaos. And it was also the setting of this interview.

“Alright you lot, this way.” You shoved your children along to your living room, giving Harry the space he needed with Joe Sabia - the interviewer.

“Thank you love, see you later.” He blew a kiss to you and returned his focus to Joe. This interview was the first of many and it was also a major marketing ploy. These types of interviews were so highly recommended for Harry to be involved in and Jeff had thought it was about time for him to do one.

Joe had arrived around 15 minutes ago, just to

run over the script and remind Harry of the pre-determined questions - which reminded him of the answers that you’d run through with him the night before. Now the cameras were set up, the mic people were all at stand-by and Joe was ready it was time to begin. The children had been so fascinated by all these new people, after not seeing anyone for months due to the coronavirus pandemic, which is why it took a lot of trouble to get them to shuffle away from their beloved dad.

A fake door knock arose.

“Harry Styles hello!”

“Hi!” Harry waved at the camera.

“I’m here to do the Vogue 73 Questions, shall we get to it?”

“Of course! Come in!” Harry welcomed Joe into the house and shut the door behind him, not trusting his little ones to not escape if they were running wild.

“Beautiful house! Is it your only one?”

“No, but it’s my only one in London.” Harry made a point of not exploiting how many houses he did have and where they were. In fact, you still didn’t know about the Island that he was currently investing in just for you. You were a huge conservation activist and so Harry thought you could spend your free time helping the fragile ecosystem on this island.

“Did you design it yourself?”

“Me and my wife built the plans, but we go the experts to finish it all off.”

“What’s your favourite room?”

“Um, probably the living room.”

“Why?”

“So many of my favourite memories have happened in there.”

“Could you give us some?”

Harry could give loads, but they were far too precious for him to just give away. The living room wasn’t even a massive room, it was quite quaint with a couple of sofas, a logwood fire and then rugs and paintings on the walls. It was a home within a home. It was where Felix had taken his first steps. It was where Oli had spoken his first words. It was where Belle had fallen over for the first time and given herself nasty carpet burn. It was where presents were opened at Christmas. It was where you and Harry had made love next to the fire. It was where Felix and Oli had had their first tiny argument. It was where you spent family nights. If your house was a map then that room marked X the spot.

It was treasure. Priceless.

“My favourite would probably be when my wife, Y/N, spilt red wine all over the new white carpet and then proceeded to throw white wine over the stain because she’d read somewhere that it helps to get rid of it.” Harry chuckled at the memory.

“Did it?”

“No, God no. The carpet’s grey now.”

Joe laughed, as did Harry.

“I have to say Harry, you’re looking very fashionable today who are you wearing?”

“Gucci.” He blushed, because he knew that everyone would’e known that without question. He was wearing a lilac silk shirt with his name embroidered on it - but really it was to symbolise your last name not his - with a white wife-beater shirt and white shorts. He looked rich.

“Shouldn’t have asked really? Is your wife as much a Gucci avid fan?”

“She hates anything expensive. I think she still wears the same jeans she was wearing at university!” He knew you’d hit him later for saying that.

“So she’s a hoarder?”

“God yeah. She keeps everything and anything.” Harry laughed in admiration.

“Has she always been?”

“Always. When we went on our first date, her bag was so full that she couldn’t find her purse and she was so embarrassed because she thought I would think she was taking advantage of who I was. Anyways I did end up paying that night, but she had actually, I don’t know how, sent me money for her portion of the bill. From that moment I knew it was going to be her.”

“Do you write songs about her?

“Every day.” He smiled at the thought of the one he’d written just this morning.

“Which one is your favourite about her?”

“I don’t know about favourite, but the one I hold closest to my heart is probably ‘Fine Line’.” Harry stopped there, not wanting to share the intimate details of why and Joe respected that.

“Do your children have a favourite song of yours?”

“They go crazy for Kiwi and Golden. Belle loves Treat People and Oli knows the dance to that one actually.”

“Did you choreograph the dance for TPWK?”

“Partially, but I had help from my friend Paul and Y/N helped too actually.”

Harry and Joe had now made it through the house, weaving in and out of rooms, until they had made it to the Garden. Unfortunately, you’d forgotten to shut the bifold doors to the living room and so as soon as Harry came into focus for your children they immediately ran for him. Oli and Felix could run quite well, but Belle was a lot slower. She was only learning how to walk and so she fell a lot, unless she was being supported by you or Harry. Oli reached his dad first and then Felix, to which Harry knelt down to embrace them in ‘super-dad’ hugs as he liked to call them.

“And who do we have here?” Joe asked.

“Trouble.” Harry replied in jest, but whispered something into his boys ears before backing away.

“Hello i’m Oli.” Oli waved proudly to the camera.

“Hi i’m Fix.” Feliz shied into his dads neck, embarrassed of himself. Harry kissed the back of his head and kept a hold oh him around his back for comfort.

“Fix?” Joe asked at the peculiar name.

“It’s Felix, but he can’t pronounce his own name for some reason so we just call him Fix now. Or Flix. Don’t we buddy?”

“Oh my! I’m so sorry about this!” You ran out in panic, knowing your one job was to keep the kids entertained and away from their dad. At least that was the original plan, but both Harry and Joe like this idea so much more. You were blushing red in embarrassment, picking up a fallen over Belle on your way over to everyone else. “So sorry.”

Belle became restless in your arms, reaching forward for her dad. She whined when she couldn’t quite reach and Harry immediately stood up to take his winging daughter from your arms. As he did, he leant into you and whispered in your ear whilst leaving it a warm kiss behind.

“You’re okay love. Don’t be sorry.”

“Hello Y/N!” Joe spoke.

“Hiya! How are you?”

“I’m great, and you?”

“Peachy.” You laughed, leaning down to collect Felix who was making grabby hands at you. Oli was quite happy standing next to both his parents, one of Harrys hands running through his tiny locks of hair.

“So now we have the family together, how do you feel to all be together?”

You looked to Harry smiled to find him smiling back already at you, knowing you both had a very similar answer. “It feels right. It feels like home.” You answered and Harry nodded in agreement, giving Belle a gentle rock in his arms.

“Are you okay with showing your children’s faces publicly?”

“No we’re not.”

“Looks like we have a hell of a lot of editing to do back at HQ.” Joe laughed, but completely understood the reasoning behind yours two decision. If needed, you could re-film scenes of this interview so that it didn’t include your children. Joe had done his best to keep the camera on you and Harry and luckily the children kept their faces buried in their parents necks anyways. “Is that going to be forever?”

“When they are old enough to decide whether they want to be in the spotlight then we’ll see.” Harry smiled, holding onto Belle tighter because all he wanted to do was keep her protected, and his, forever.

“You two seem like very good parents.” Joe spoke sincerely, and it made you swallow down a sob because it was always really lovely to hear such compliments - knowing you’d struggled with postnatal depression.

“Thank you Joe.” Harry nodded respectfully.

“Okay let’s carry on?”

The interview carried on until Harry had answered so many questions. He redid bits, due the children being too involved and he re-filmed answers to questions he found difficult to answer the first time around. He had such a great experience and was happy with the way that the day turned out.

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pettyvxbes · 4 years ago

Text

FUCKLUST (18 +) - {COLSON BAKER x READER }

Y'all, I got a little carried away on this one. 🙈🥵💦

Warnings: Smut (18+), cursing.

FUCKLUST

Intransitive verb: an insatiable sexual desire to fuck the hell out of that one particular special someone you think about all the time.

Colson towered over you, his strong arms pinning your hands over your head. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You could feel his hard cock against your thigh, making heat pool in your center. You gasped as Colson pushed his body against yours, sliding his bare length between your folds. You could feel his hot breath on yours as a groan escaped his lips.

Colson took your bottom lip between his teeth, biting hard. You wanted to pull him closer, but he kept a firm grip on your arms which were still positioned above your head. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close to you as possible.

"I'm going to fuck you so good you won't be able to remember another man has been inside you, you won't ever want another cock." Colson growled, reaching down to position himself. You could feel the head of his cock pressing at your entrance.

A jolt shuddered through you, making you jump. Your eyes shot open as you awoke from your accidental nap. You were immediately met with the familiar pair of baby blues that belonged to your co-star, Colson Baker.

You two had been working on a movie together for the last three months, and you were set to film your very first kissing scene, which you ultimately blamed for the naughty dream, even though you knew deep down it was much more than that. From the moment you stepped on set, the chemistry between you was undeniable, and the sexual tension was consuming. Colson was always making you laugh uncontrollably or making you wish you were underneath him. Unfortunately, you had both decided for the sake of the film that you would keep it professional. The closer it got to wrapping the first film, the harder it was to resist wrapping yourselves around each other.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Colson asked. Your cheeks flushed red, remembering the dream you were just in the middle of. Colson smirked at you once he noticed the rosy tint to your cheeks. "You were dreaming about me, weren't you?" He joked but had no idea how accurate he was.

You quickly tried to regain your composure, ignoring the intense need for his hands on your body. It took everything in you to not jump him right there in the lounge.

"Yeah, actually," You admitted, catching him off guard at your candor.

"Guys, we need you on set." One of the crew members popped their head in the room, interrupting your conversation. You got up from the chair that you had fallen asleep in, stopping in the doorway, you turned back around to face the handsome man.

"Thank you for the sex. It was mind-blowing." You smirked, making Colson's jaw drop. Although your dream hadn't gone quite that far, you knew it would have been amazing.

It sucked. Liking someone you couldn't have. Seeing Colson every day but knowing that he'd never be yours because of your stupid agreement. It was the worst feeling in the world. All you could do was dream about him and the things that he'd do to you. . .

. . . but you couldn't jeopardize the success of the film, your career, you worked so hard to get to where you were. You refused to be like all of the other Hollywood cliches. Two beautiful people playing two beautiful lovers who accidentally fall for each other in real life but eventually go up in flames. Completely ruining the on-screen chemistry in the sequels or worst-case scenario, one of them being re-casted, which you knew would end up being you.

Not long after stepping on set, you found yourself standing in the middle of a faux lingerie store next to Colson, who was helping your character pick out something to wear.

"Let me guess. You like garters and silk stockings?" You delivered your lines perfectly as you thumbed through the garments on the rack in front of you.

"Two for two, although I'd like you in anything you put on… or take off," Colson smirked, handing you a hanger adorned with a very sexy lace bustier set. You glanced towards the dressing rooms, then back at Colson with a scandalous glimmer in your eye.

"Help me try it on? Just to make sure it fits, of course."

"Of course." Colson mimicked you before following you towards the dressing rooms. After quickly switching scenes on set, you resumed filming in the tiny room.

You pushed Colson toward the bench in the dressing room, forcing him to sit. Looking him straight in the eye, you reached for the hem of your clothes, lifting slowly, exposing your bare skin inch by inch. Colson sat in front of you, clenching his fists in his lap, clearly holding himself back from reaching for you as you stepped out of the last of your clothes and into the lingerie.

"Well?" Does it live up to your imagination?" Your character asked as you looked at yourself in the mirror, adjusting the straps on the bustier and garter belt. Colson's body was pressed up against yours in an instant, meeting your gaze in the mirror. He planted a kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hands found their way to your hips. You could feel him growing hard against you. In the moment, you almost forget that you were filming, clearing your throat to break the trance.

"I hope you like this one because I'm pretty sure I have to buy these panties now." You blurted. Those weren't your lines; You had no idea where that came from. You could feel Colson grin against the nape of your neck. Your face flushed in embarrassment, but before anyone could notice, Colson spun you around, threading his fingers through your hair pulling you into a fierce kiss.

You knew this wasn't how the scene was supposed to go, but even as you tried to remind yourself to stick to the script, you found yourself pulling him closer. After the last few months of tension and self-restraint, Colson's mouth, hot and insistent on yours, was a relief.

"Tell me to stop, and I will," Colson whispered against your lips.

"Don't." Was the only word you were able to get out before you melted into his arms. Wrapping your body around his. The kiss grew passionate and intense quickly. You both forgot where you were and what you were doing until the director screamed cut, startling both of you.

"That was phenomenal," the director complimented you two on your improv. The rest of the day was spent filming fill-in scenes with your other castmates; in fact, you hadn't seen Colson once since your little rendezvous in the dressing room. This was probably a good thing because, after that heated kiss, you were sure you wouldn't be able to resist.

Once filming had wrapped for the day, you made your way back to the dressing rooms, still replaying the kiss from earlier in your mind. You were so caught up in your thoughts out hadn't even realized that you walked right past your dressing room door, opening your co-workers as your own.

You were startled to find Colson standing in front of you. Freshly showered in nothing but a small white towel. You could see the outline of his cock through the cotton fabric. It was enough to make you salivate. His eyes locked with yours, the look of lust on your face was apparent, and he reciprocated. The desire absorbed you; you knew that resisting him was no longer an option. That no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn't be able to curb the ache you felt for him until it was satisfied.

Before you could make the first move, Colson's lips were on yours. His kiss was hard as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him. His passion was contagious and electrifying. Colson pressed his body flush with yours, sucking on your lower lip as he ran his fingers roughly through your hair.

"Stop teasing and touch me," You demanded. With a smirk, Colsons' hands found your backside lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his back as he pressed you hard into the wall.

"It's about damn time." He breathed. With his free hand, Colson wrapped your hair around his fist, pulling your head back with a slight yank. He took a second, admiring the view before leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your mouth, so lingering that it made your knees week.

"If we're finally going to do this, I want to hear you say it, y/n." Colson said, looking into your eyes, and without hesitation, you spoke.

"Colson, I need you."

You had a moment to catch Colson's groan before he crashed his lips into yours. You moved frantically together, hands roaming each other's bodies and tongues exploring each other's mouths. Your dress was hiked up around your waist as Colson's hands wandered, feeling every inch of your body. His lips moved down your jaw, his hips grinding into yours. The rub of his bulge against the fabric of the lingerie you had taken from set sent a rush of need to your core, causing you to buck your hips into him.

"Do you feel what you do to me y/n?" Colson growled as he grabbed your hand, guiding it down to the space between you both. "What have you done to me every single goddamn night since I've met you?" He asked, rock hard against your palm. Colson let out an agonizingly sexy groan in response to your touch. You rubbed your hand up and down the length of him, straining hard against the fabric of the towel around his hips. You squeezed your hand around him, stroking slowly. Colson's groans quickly turned to grunts, deep and sexy, until his hand abruptly stopped yours.

"Y/n, you're going to make cum before I even get you naked." He admitted with a slight chuckle. With one smooth move Colson hoisted you into his arms, shifting your weight away from the wall. You locked your ankles around his back, and he carried you across the room. His mouth latched to the skin of your neck.

"Are you marking me, Colson Baker?" You asked seductively. Colson growled low in his throat.

"You haven't seen anything yet, princess." He avowed, tossing you on the chaise lounge. His eyes roamed the curves of your body, still covered in the fabric of your sheer dress. You leaned back on the chair, your skirt hiked up enough to show a peek of the panties beneath. Colson groaned as he dropped to one knee on the lounge so he could lean over you. His eyes were electric as he took in your body. Eyes locked with his, you slowly removed your clothes, tugging your dress over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Colson took in the lingerie that he had picked out for you, his eyes traveling hungrily over your body.

"Seeing you laid out like this in the lingerie that I picked out, it's hard not to feel like. . ." Colson trailed off in thought.

"Like you have a claim on me?" You guessed what he was thinking, and Colsons eyes darkened.

"Exactly like that. It's not a feeling I want to let go of." He remarked. "As much as I love it. . . let me see you without it."

You slipped the straps off your shoulders, watching Colsons eyes follow the movement. You slowly removed the lingerie as he watched your every move. Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on your elbows, biting your lip while looking up at him, waiting to see what he'd do. Colson leaned forward, his eyes locked with yours. His hands framing your body on either side of the lounge chair.

"I want to mark every part of your beautiful body," Colson went on, "after all of that teasing and waiting. . . I want you to think of me every time you look in the mirror." He said, running his finger gently down your neck, your chest, over your nipples. "I want you to see the places I've touched you."

"Do it." You begged.

Colson let out a deep, wild growl that sent a shiver down your body. He dipped down, running his tongue over your collarbone, punctuating the movement with a nip to your shoulder. He pressed a line of soft kisses over the line of your shoulder before his mouth slid up to leave another bite mark on your neck. You gasped at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the curve of your neck. Before the pain could register, Colson licked over the same spot, peppering your skin with kisses. You could feel the trail of marks he was leaving on your neck and down your chest. It stung with pleasure and a hint of pain. He slowly made his way down your body, biting the edge of your hip, almost hard enough to draw blood. A moan escaped your mouth, and you instinctively lifted your hips to meet him.

"Colson"

"Fuck y/n, you're better than any fantasy I could ever have." He marveled as he pulled back to look at you, his gaze full of lust and wonder. Colson tugged on your knees, dragging you to the edge of the lounge chair, your bent legs framed his hips. "I can't wait to taste you. Have you thought about that? What it'd be like to have my mouth on you?"

"I may have considered what it'd be like. . . or how good you'd be. . ." You admitted coyly.

"Trust me, I'm not one to disappoint." He promised. "I can't even tell you how long I've been waiting for this. How many dreams I've had with me between your thighs. . ." desire dripping from every word he spoke.

Colson hovered over you, connecting his lips with yours as your fingers moved down his back. He moved his lips down your body - your neck, your collar bone, your breasts - he left a trail of kisses down your stomach, over your hips, until he reached the place where you craved him most. You arched into his touch, wanting to get closer. Colson lifted his head, grinning wide.

"Eager, are we?" He smirked. Before you could even catch your breath, Colson'sColson's tongue was between your folds, licking you slowly. He looked up to meet your eyes, holding down your hips as his mouth found your bundle of nerves. He sucked your clit like a starved man, enjoying each moan and gasp that he pulled from you. Within seconds you were writhing underneath him as his tongue continued making you sing.

"Oh my god," you moaned, your hand finding its way into his hair. Colson slid a single finger inside of you, working perfectly in time with his mouth against your bud. It sent shockwaves down your body. The rush of pleasure pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck Colson!" You moaned.

"That's it, say my name." He coaxed you. Pulling back enough to speak, Colson used his hand to rub your clit in sharp circles, hard enough to drive you crazy. "Cum for me." He ordered, and your orgasm hit you like a wave, the pleasure shaking through you as you finally let go. You fell back onto the chaise lounge, spent.

Colson climbed on top of you, kissing you passionately. His fingers found their way between your thighs, teasing at your entrance before slipping, not one but two fingers inside. You gasped at the sensation. Colson rocked his hand in smooth, firm strokes, making you moan. He curled his fingers to reach the spot inside that makes fireworks explode behind your eyes. He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace leaving you breathless, hitting that particular spot every time.

You couldn't take it any longer. You ran your nails down his tattooed back, stopping at the only piece of fabric separating his naked body from yours. In one swift motion, you yanked the towel from his hips, making him grin.

"Since the day I met you, all I wanted to do was make you come undone around me," He said, sliding the underside of his cock over your wet center, giving your clit just a hint of the friction that you craved.

Colson pressed his cock over your clit one last time, making you moan before he positioned it against your entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside of you, one pleasurable, tantalizing inch at a time until you were completely full. Visibly restraining himself, Colson stayed still, letting you get used to the size of him. Both of you breathing heavily as you became familiar with the feel of each other. You rocked your hips up, pulling him in deeper. Tipping his head back in pleasure, Colson let out a groan.

"You're going to be the death of me," Colson mumbled before starting to move agonizingly slow, using all of his self-control. He slowly rolled his hips, pressing his pelvis down against your clit, making you moan.

"Do you want me to go faster?" He asked as he slowly pushed himself deep inside of you, brushing against that perfect spot.

"Y-yes," You stammered in between breaths.

"Tell me what you want," Colson demanded. You could see the tension in his shoulders; it was getting difficult for him to hold himself back. His strokes were slow and hard, sending electric sparks through your body - hot, but not enough. He was driving you crazy, and he loved it; you could tell by the smirk he was wearing.

"Want to hear your beg for it." He growled, sliding slowly into you again, stretching you, sending white-hot pleasure through your body. You could swear you saw stars.

"Please fuck me harder," You moaned. It was precisely what he wanted to hear. In a split second, Colson's self-restraint snapped. His hips moving faster, thrusting deep inside you. You let out a moan as you attempted to bring your hips down to meet his, but he set a frenzied pace, so hard that it took your breath away.

You gripped his shoulders, raking your nails down his tattooed back, hard enough to leave a mark. Colson let out a low growl as the knot in your stomach grew taut; you were so close. You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Open your eyes. Look at me while you cum on my cock." Colson's nails dug into your hips, and the mixture of pain and pleasure made that knot unravel. Your eyes shot open, meeting those familiar baby blues again.

Colson slammed into you hard and deep, making you scream his name as you fell off the edge, pleasure cascading through your entire body. Colson's lips found their way to yours, swallowing every sound you gave him. The feeling of your release around him causing him to cum even harder, your mouth engulfing his groans. He pulsed inside of you, releasing himself and all the built-up tension from his body until the only thing left between you was heavy breathing.

"Fuck." Colson groaned, lying motionless on top of you for a moment, too fatigued to move. Once he caught his bearings, he rolled off of you, laying on his back next to you. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips.

"What's so funny?" you probed.

"Before you walked in here, I was trying to figure out how I was going to keep myself from accidentally busting while filming our sex scene next week." He answered, still chuckling to himself. His response made you laugh out loud.

"And what makes you think you won't? The sexual tension could easily build back up by then." You challenged him.

"Oh, I have every intention of doing this again" He pointed between you two.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He responded, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, "I thought that your laugh was my favorite. . ." He continued, moving to gently kiss your lips. "but now that I've made you moan. . ." He trailed off, moving down to kiss your neck, sucking just enough to draw a quiet moan from your lips. ". . .I plan on hearing it many times before then" He smirked, and just like that, the insatiable sexual desire to fuck the hell out of Colson Baker returned.

#fucklust #colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker x reader #colson baker smut #smut #insatiable #hot #mgk smut #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly smut #mgk x reader smut

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say-narry · 3 years ago

Text

Note: English isn’t my first language. Hope you all like it. Please, give me your opinion with a reblog, fav or a note in my askbox :)

pairing: Louis!peaky blinders era x reader

warnings: explicit sex, unprotected sex (don't do that!), curse words, daddy kink, overstimulation, dirt talk, mention of jealousy, mention of astrology.

Words: 4k

talk with me | masterlist

Astrology

In my spare time I loved to read about astrology. It was a habit I adhered to since I was a teenager and now as an adult, it was my secret cringe.

So many times, the things described there met the personality traits of someone I knew and that made me believe it even more.

Sure, there were some holes in the script, but I had been in this world forever, so I just ignored that and kept it as a supposed truth and that was only affirmed when I met Louis.

Friends in common, I liked the way his accent sounded, a few drinks here and there, we shared the lighter to light the cigarette and ended up kissing at the end of the party at Calvin's house.

That was a year ago now.

I already knew all his quirks and as Louis lived more at my place than at his mansion here in London, he had to follow my rules, which was a little difficult even though he is Capricorn. Lately it was complicated to deal with him, because he seemed to ignore me and my weekly horoscope had already said that my relationship would be shaken by the smallest things and that I should be careful.

"Babe, don't leave your shoes like that. I already asked for them!" I complained as I placed our shoes side by side by the door. This was one of his manners that annoyed me deeply. "My friends will be here soon!"

"Nah." he muttered, not even looking at me.

I snorted and rolled my eyes, going to check the cheese and chocolate fondue I was preparing.

My friends Peter, Anne, Sam and Paul were coming over for happy hour. I am on vacation at work, an accounting office, so this is a perfect opportunity to hear what's new.

"Babe, is there any way to go to that grocery store down the street? I forgot that Anne has a gluten allergy and forgot to buy the gluten-free bagel." I stirred the melted cheese in the small pot on the stove.

No response from Louis.

Because my house is small, there's no way he couldn't hear me. I stretched my body back a little and in my half vision through the door, I could see that Louis was still concentrating on the smartphone game while gnawing on the corner of his left thumb.

I took another deep breath, it seemed that Louis became a child watching the games on the device and this was another flaw of his sign's characteristic, however I knew he was loyal and domineering, which eventually gave me an idea.

I turned off the stove and wrapped the fondues, putting them in the electric oven in warm-up mode so that they would not cool down.

My friends would arrive in half an hour, it was time to put my idea into practice.

I grabbed my purse, checked the pounds in my wallet, put on a sweatshirt and ran to the door.

"Luv, where are you going?" Louis asked without looking at me.

"Grocery store, babe." I put on my moccasins and closed the door.

It was dusk and for a change London was cold, for as soon as I passed the small gate in my driveway I sped to the grocery store.

As luck would have it, I found the guys a few meters from my house and ran to hug them.

"How are you, Y/N?" Sam, the blond girl with freckles and green eyes asked me as she released me from her hug.

"Fine! But I need a little help from all of you, specifically you, Paul and Anne." I pointed to them, who were inches away from me.

My couple of friends looked at me, Paul was a tall man with blue eyes, a muscular body and a beard. He was dating Anne, a tall, beautiful black woman with curly hair and honey-brown eyes with a mouth to envy.

"What happened?" Anne asked.

I explained to them that Louis seemed to be ignoring me as if I was just someone else working for him, but that he was the dominating type and so I wanted to tease him and see if we should continue with this relationship or if he was just distracted.

"I swear it won't go any further than that, I love Louis very much but this is killing me." I held the brown paper bag against me.

"Have you tried talking to him?" Peter suggested.

"Louis is a Capricorn, you know how it is. When he focuses on something, that's it." I rolled my eyes.

"That's fine with me, it will be fun watching a music star want to kill me because his wife wants me." Paul grabbed the bag from my hands and winked at me, and we laughed.

"It's fine with me too, you know I find it sexy to see men jealous." Anne winked at Paul, who closed his face, causing us to let out a few more low chuckles.

"I think there's a way we can help too." Sam put his arm around my neck and held Peter by the waist.

I had the best friends in the world.

"He simply came in halfway through the meeting with a huge mark on his neck. Emily wanted to climb the walls!" Peter commented on our co-worker.

We were all sitting on the floor of the room with the creams and fondue mixes on the coffee table. Louis was on my right side with black sweatpants and the jacket I loved so much, Paul was on my left side, next to him was Anne followed by Peter and Sam.

"But we know why Tom's nights out..." Sam looked at me suggestively and then looked at Anne. I straightened up waiting for what was to come.

Louis followed the conversation, sometimes hugging me around the waist and offering me something to eat. I just helped myself to a glass of red wine.

"Why?" Anne asked as if she didn't understand.

"Oh, you know, since the S/N went on vacation he has been gloomy, seems to have forgotten how to do calculations on the spreadsheets, and gets sad at lunchtime." Sam replied, alternating his gaze between Louis and me.

Louis, who was serving himself a piece of bread and cheese, grimaced, but said nothing.

"It's true, we know he's not over it yet."

I had the glass in my mouth trying to hold back the laugh I wanted to give.

"Get over what?" Louis asked me with a frown and I arched my shoulders, pretending not to know what they were referring to.

"Tom is in love with Y/N, Louis. Ever since she came to the office, he only has eyes for her." Anne answered by pouring herself some strawberry slices and pouring the melted chocolate on top. "You know, alluring and attractive men don't get over it so easily when they are dumped by a beautiful woman."

My eyes were watering from holding back tears of laughter. It was funny to imagine this situation, since Tom was a very well married gentleman, father of three children, and would soon be a grandfather.

"I'm going to get some more wine." I pushed myself to get up, because I needed to release the laughter that was stuck in me.

"I'll get it, babe." Paul took the glass from my hand, passing his hand through mine and stood up.

"Oh, thank you Paulie!" I smiled and sat back down.

Louis's face was red, he chewed angrily and stared at me. His blue eyes fixed on me in an uncomfortable way, as if he were reading my thoughts.

"What's up, babe?" I asked as Anne, Sam and Peter talked among themselves, I tried to stroke his face but he turned away.

"Nothing." he nodded, and I narrowed my eyes.

Paul returned with my full glass, I took it and thanked him again. Since I was sitting only on the carpet, I decided to do a little stretching. Purposefully, Paul looked at the open buttons of my black blouse that was thin and skinny long. Unconsciously, it was tighter than I usually wore which highlighted my breasts covered by the bra.

Louis seemed to notice, he huffed and ran his hand through his hair. I just ignored him and pretended to pay attention to my friends' conversation.

I felt his arm going around my shoulders and a few kisses on my neck, and I simply held myself together not to react, but it was so good his affection.

"We were talking about Tom before and now I remembered, can you believe that every day he comes into your office and wipes down your desk and computer?" Sam was sharp in the theater, I just wanted to thank her for that.

"And I'll tell you something else, he takes his shoes off before he comes in. " Peter continued.

Broadway was losing these actors to an accounting office. Louis leaned back on one of the sofas and crossed his arms with a brave expression.

"Tom has always been very nice to me." I commented, swirling the rest of the wine in my glass. "But I don't know..."

"I don't know, Y/N?" Louis spoke a little louder, turning his face abruptly to me.

"Yes, Tom is a nice guy but he is the kind of guy who ignores things I say, he was not organized and sometimes we almost missed deadlines... If he is like that at work, who will say to have a relationship with him."

I drank the rest of the wine and almost saw Louis erupt.

"Nothing beyond that stays between you?" I looked at Sam, who put his hand over his mouth, holding back his laughter, as did Anne, Paul, and Peter.

"Nah. " I repeated Louis' murmur from earlier and repeated his motion, leaning back against the couch behind me.

He ran his fingers through his bangs and chuckled gracelessly, denying it with his head. I narrowed my eyes in surprise at his reaction.

"It's getting late isn't it? Want some help cleaning up, petal?" Paul stroked my arm.

"I'll help my girl, Paulie." Louis imitated my voice when I called him and stared at Paul's hand on my arm, moving his mouth as if he were dissatisfied.

We talked some more, Louis was still silent and crossed his arms, his legs intertwined with each other and swinging rapidly.

I knew that Louis was about to explode, so I said goodbye to the guys who thanked me for the evening. Paul gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. They motioned for me to tell them by text what was going to happen, I silently agreed and closed the door.

Louis had gotten up and was removing things from the coffee table. I started to organize the room and finished taking the last dishes to the sink.

"You and this Tom guy, have you ever had anything?" Louis was sponging one of the dishes. His sleeves were rolled up, which gave me a view of the tattoos on his wrist that I liked so much.

I poured myself the rest of the wine and leaned back against the sink where he was standing.

"We only went out together once." Which was true, but it was with the rest of the office and nothing happened because his wife accompanied us and I saw him as a father or even an uncle. I would stay in my tantrum, yes, he was the one who should end his.

"Hm." Louis answered.

"Why the question?"

Louis remained silent, washing the dishes as if it were the most fun thing in the world.

"Louis? If I asked a question, I want an answer." I said angrily, tired of the tantrum.

He continued in silence. I took a deep breath trying to oxygenate my brain and continued to stare at him.

I drank the rest of the wine and left the glass in the sink. I walked slowly to the door, still trying to remain calm.

"Where are you going?" Louis asked.

I just turned and smiled, raising my two middle fingers in his direction.

"Fuck you!" I shouted nervously, pointing at him.

Without waiting for his response, I headed towards my room, but within three steps I felt something pulling me, two cold, wet hands.

Louis might be shorter than most men, but he still possessed great strength.

In one swift movement, I felt him turn me around and my back hit the wall to my right and my head bounced, causing me to grunt in pain.

Louis pressed his body against mine, my hands went up to push his chest.

"I don't want to talk, Louis." I said annoyed, almost in tears already.

"What's up, luv? Your babe wants to know... "Louis brushed his nose across my neck, soon after caressing my face by turning and pulling it slightly to the opposite side, my eyes automatically closed."What were those teasing things earlier?"

My body stiffened, I couldn't hide anything from him.

"Let go of me. " I asked, still pushing him slightly, but it came out more like a groan.

Louis let out a small laugh and began to distribute wet kisses down my neck, sometimes my body betrayed me and shivered.

Louis's right hand, which previously held my waist, lifted my blouse to gain access to the skin of my belly and with a rush, held my right breast, massaging it lovingly.

"I'm sure my girl is getting wet..." His warm breath hitched against the cartilage of my left ear. "You like to tease me by showing off those luscious breasts, but in the end you're all mine, aren't you?"

I groaned as if in agreement. My hands, which before had been pushing her breasts, had moved to her back, scratching the white fabric.

"Who's my little whore? Hm?" His teeth went to my jaw, scraping it lightly, and then down to my neck where I felt pressure being applied.

Oh, hell! He was marking me.

"I-I-I..." I answered weakly and brushed my crotch against his.

My body arched and I held on to his arms, I could already feel the throbbing in between my legs as they buckled.

"My silly little girl!" He moved a few inches away from me and I opened my eyes, staring at Louis's long lashes in front of his blue orbs that were almost covered by his dilated pupils. "I saw what you did with the whole Tom and Paulie thing."

When I regained consciousness, I bit my lower lip and smiled mischievously, returning my hands to his back.

"What are you going to do about it, stud?" I teased.

Louis's hands went around my waist as he made a point of kissing me fiercely and hotly. My hands grabbed his face, pulling him to me, afraid that he would just stop and leave me there, hot and needy for his touch.

His hands went down to unbutton my jeans and unzip me. I let out a moan in anticipation and I could feel him smile in the middle of the kiss.

Louis pulled away from me and spun me around, placing me face down against the wall.

"Louis..." I moaned softly, thrusting my ass toward him.

I felt his pelvis fit over my ass and his member was already hardening, I tried to make more contact, but his hands on my waist stopped me.

"I know, luv... I want you too." I felt his chest against my back as I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall and pressed my hands against it, trying to support myself. "I want to feel your pussy squeezing my cock as I fuck you very slowly, because I know you like to feel my cock pulsing in you."

I was already dizzy, biting my lower lip trying to hide my moans, until Louis pulled away and his hands hooked on the hem of my jeans and pulled them down.

"Spread your legs, Darlin'"

I did as he cried out, with a little difficulty because my jeans were still binding my legs and the state of my panties was embarrassing.

His hand slid up and down my ass, and then slapped me with his open hand, which made me jump in surprise.

"My girl doesn't like to be neglected, huh?" Shivers ran through me, my breathing was heavy and my brows furrowed and more slaps came, making my skin burn and my eyes water. "You get needy for my cock when I don't fuck you, don't you?"

In one swift act, my panties were keeping company with my jeans. I pushed my hips even higher, rubbing one leg against the other in an effort to relieve the agony my clit felt.

"Daddy will take care of you, luv!" I heard some noises and then the glorious sensation of Louis's hot tongue running over my pussy.

"Louis!" I moaned loudly and his breath hitched against my exposed intimacy as he let out a laugh. His hands grabbed my thighs and spread them even further apart, leaving me wide open for him.

Louis's tongue ran from my sensitive spot to my entrance, sucking and licking. I swayed my hips trying to get closer, but whenever I did he laughed and ran just the tip of it all the way over. My eyes rolled back and a vibration came in the pit of my stomach.

He didn't last long there, but the sound of my wetness clicking on his tongue was something out of reality.

"Babe, please..." My right arm kept pushing against the wall while my left was bent and I massaged my breasts, trying to relieve myself somehow.

"What's wrong, kitten?" Louis groaned and blew against me.

I turned my head to the side and Louis had stood up, taking off his sweatpants along with his underwear and his white jacket, and threw them on the floor beside us.

"Daddy..." I murmured.

Louis' member was hard, and with the glans of his member shiny and pink, his left hand wrapped around it, going up and down slowly. Louis stroked my ass with his free hand, his lower lip was biting and his head eventually fell back as he sighed.

He knew how sexy I found the veins in his hands tensing up and showing as he played with his cock. The tattoos on his wrist added a special touch.

"Lucky for you I want to get it over with, luv... Otherwise you'd have to beg me to fuck you..." He spoke as his cock touched me, dragging and teasing me, making me almost fall to my knees on the floor. "I'm going to fuck your little pussy so hard, babe? I want to hear you moan for the rest of the night, do you want to feel my cock all the way in here?" His finger ran across my entrance, giving me mini shocks in that area.

I mumbled the only sound left in my throat. I turned my face forward and leaned my forehead against the wall. He knew how much I melted for his dirt talk.

My arm against the wall was aching, my forehead was sweaty, and my legs were almost giving way from the way they trembled.

Louis launched himself inside me without warning, burying his wet member until his balls slammed against my clit.

A scream tore through my throat, my nails digging into the wall. Louis didn't even give me time to get used to it, he immediately began thrusting against me. Back and forth, thrusting hard and trying to go all the way in. I was panting as was he, my eyes still closed, enjoying his member filling me.

I turned my face to the side opening my eyes and I could cum right there at the sight, my heart throbbed even more seeing Louis with his nails digging into my hips, his tattooed chest and arms tensed tightly and his head relaxed back with his mouth ajar.

"Fuck!" My eyelids fluttered and I could feel the anguish in my uterus rising.

"My girl is so hot, so warm and tight ... oh!" Louis went down again and if it wasn't for the euphoria, I could feel him almost ripping me in half with his cock slamming against my uterus.

I tilted my head back and one of Louis' hands grabbed my loose hair and formed a sort of ponytail. His hand forced my neck, causing my body to arch and my ass to bulge even more.

My back began to ache as his hipbones crashed against my muscles, he had never caught me this way before and I was already addicted to it. Louis let go of my hair and went back to kneading the sides of my hips.

I put my arm in front of me and bit down on it, feeling my face hit him lightly with the thrusts, my throat aching with the moans, and Louis murmured my name as he tried to sink even deeper inside me.

"Whose pussy is this, babe? Who fucks it hard and the way you like it?" Louis, still not stopping his thrusts, rotated his hips and a wave of ecstasy hit me at the cervix. My pussy clenching rapidly, I was getting there. Louis fucked me so fast that I couldn't even scream.

"You, babe! Only you, Louis!" I spoke softly and felt him kiss me on my back.

"Are you sure, babygirl?" Louis teased and again I felt his chest against my spine.

His cock was halfway out of me and seconds later I was already missing him, which didn't last long as I pushed my hips back against him, burying his cock back into me. I stood on my tiptoes and his member reached the hidden spot that Louis sometimes managed to reach.

"Come on my cock, babe! Because I'm going to mark you, fill you with my milk... Do you want it, my naughty little girl?"

My breath came out of my lungs in a sharp intake of breath. My body exploded inside, shuddering as Louis forced himself to orgasm. Small jolts ran through me, and the ground no longer seemed to be beneath my feet.

My man's nails sank into my skin, his thrusts became sloppy and a loud moan came from Louis' chest, his cock swelled even more inside me and I felt hot spurts fill me, joining my liquid. He groaned loudly and his hands gripped my waist tightly, easing the grip seconds later. Violent trembling came over my knees, causing me to close my eyes in shame as Louis continued inside me and hugged me from behind.

"What's up, Luv? Did I hurt you?" He pushed my hair away from my sweaty, flushed face. Louis kissed the top of my head and I could feel some shocks from the orgasm still being delivered and the delicious feeling of having him inside me.

I nodded positively and then negatively, answering his questions.

"Sorry about the last few days, I was so distracted, thinking about the new album, and then I realized that I didn't do the right thing to the point where my perfect girl insinuated herself to our friend and they talked about some guy at work."

"How did you find out?" I lay my face against the wall, feeling the frosty, chilling cold on my face. I was tired, almost closing my eyes.

"I know you, darlin'... You can't lie, your sign says so."

I covered my face in shame that he knew my shameful secret. Louis pulled his member out of me and already I felt it go limp, Louis tightened his embrace around my buttocks and his arms wrapped around mine, tucking me in.

"Thanks for not giving up on your Capricorn. He'll pay more attention to his girl."

I nodded and turned around, kissing him slowly, feeling his tongue caress mine calmly and tenderly. He was everything to me, giving him up would be the last thing I would ever do.

I pulled away still hugging him and could see his sweaty bangs.

"Thanks for the sex against the wall, it was amazing." I blinked, placing a kiss on his chin.

"Maybe tomorrow you'll rethink it." His face turned into a smile, kissing my cheeks.

I stared at him even longer, not understanding his statement.

"Uh... I may or may not have left some... marks." He gave me his best puppy dog face, squeezed my ass, and kissed my neck lightly.

I rolled my eyes eagerly to see these possible marks.

"All right, they're marks from my Capricorn..." I said, kissing him and jumping on his lap. "But if you ignore me again, you won't have sex against the wall or anywhere else." I shook his shoulder to get his attention and he agreed.

"No more Capricorn stuff!" He promised, raising his right hand.

Astrology thing or not, I loved the guy standing in front of me.

#louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson one shot #louis tomlinson blurb #louis tomlinson smut #louis tomlinson fluff #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson imagines #louis tomlinson fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles #liam payne #liam payne smut #one direction

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years ago

Text

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.3)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 2799

Episode: Three

Warning: not much, flashbacks, talks of violence

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Two

Time: 1:00pm

Date: October 2nd 2024

It didn’t take long for everyone to board the helicopter and for it to take off, no one was lounging around this morning so they assembled quickly. Bucky sat by himself on the heli, the file was still open in his hands with the page turned to Dr. Wright. Bucky looked over the information that was given; he double and triple checked. There was a car waiting for them when they were going to arrive, Bucky would get dropped off and then Steve, Nat, and Wanda would drive around Halifax but would keep watch for a distress signal. Bucky made it clear it would only be him talking to the doctor, he was practicing his script in his head.

“Five minutes ‘till landing,” the pilot spoke into his headset, the sound went to their ears sounding like a 1940s radio show.

“Copy,” everyone replied without unison.

The plane got lower and lower until it touched the ground; it was a private tarmac for primarily military forces and other important people; SHIELD was always allowed to use it. Everyone got off the plane after the propellers began to slow down, Bucky had jumped off once while they were still at top speed and got flung forward but the air. The all black car stood a ways in front of them, they all took their bags and headed over.

“What a ride…” Steve muttered as he ran his hand against the perfect hood, this car was brand new and probably had never been in the sun before. It wasn’t a low sport car but rather an everyday car that was bullet proof and decked out with an AI on the inside, no one would take a second glance at it but the four of them marveled at how this car could fit in amongst others. The black rims matched the black tires and the black paint, this was Bucky’s dream car.

They all got in and the ride began, Steve drove while Wanda sat in the back with Bucky, Nat was in the passenger seat playing her music. Every so often Wanda would look over to Bucky, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, she’d give a sympathetic glance and maybe open her mouth as if she was about to say something but chose against it. Bucky had Dr. Wright’s address on the file sheet; he was giving directions to Steve as they drove through the colourful houses.

They had never seen houses like this, around four to five houses lined up next to each other, each of them were painted a different colour but they looked the same. Flowers grew in little holders under the two window sills at the front of the house, tulips were the most popular, vines would grow on the side where the sun didn’t shine too much and pain would chip around the bottom of the houses. Some houses still had Halloween decorations up, red leaves scattered on the ground and blew everywhere. There was a brown hue to the world around them, pumpkins were scattered on some door steps while other people still had Christmas lights up from last year.

Bucky tapped Steve’s head rest and the car slowed to a stop, they looked out to their left to see a house that looked like it belonged to the community. It wasn’t modern and square with sleek grey tiles on the outside, it was old and run down. A ghost hung from the single garage light, one pumpkin was sitting on the doorstep. This house didn’t look like one of a nazi group member, nevermind just a person with their doctorate.

Tons of leaves crunched under Bucky’s combat boots, the road was littered with them, it made it seem like it was a red and yellow road. He looked both ways as he crossed even though no cars were on the road except for the military grade undercover car, Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Wanda waving. They were going to head to a farmers market in this town to pass the time, and Bucky would walk over there when he was done. He gave a thumbs up and the car drove away and down the street, he didn’t watch to see it disappear, Bucky only had one thing on his mind and it wasn’t some apple pies Wanda was looking for.

The driveway looked new as well as the cobblestone walkway, one car was in the driveway and it looked to match the house, no crazy sports car. There was a screen door before an actual green wooden door, Bucky pulled back the screen and didn’t bother with the doorbell, he banged on the door. When he pulled his fist away there was a flake of green paint on his middle finger’s knuckle, a quick swipe and it was gone. Bucky stood back because he saw that in the movies, his back turned to the door as he looked out to the town. It was a lovely day, most people were probably at this farmer’s market, Bucky had never been to one even though you had offered to take him.

His head whipped back at the door opening, the same man, but only older, opened the door. He looked tired and worn out, this was probably his last Halloween. The cane he was holding was shaking in his grip, the other hand gripped the side of the door extremely tight. You could see the white through the speckled skin.

“What can I help you with, son?” the old man spoke with a smile, he licked his gums. A Canadian accent seemed almost cartoon-ish.

Bucky froze as he looked at this man, the sight of him brought him back to his nightmares and everything he’d been through. The name ‘son’ rolled off this man’s tongue and down Bucky’s spine and sent a shiver running all through him, it was obvious this man didn’t know who Bucky was. Bucky almost felt bad that he was bothering him, it was obvious he wasn’t a walker and standing seemed to be his exercise for the day, but at the same time Bucky couldn’t help but think about all the ways he could rip this doctor apart.

“Son?” the name came again.

Bucky looked up with a shake of his head, “hello, are you Dr. Wright?” he asked quietly.

“Yes it is, what do you need?” he didn’t seem freaked out that Bucky knew his name, it was a small town.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky started but the man didn’t seem to figure it out, “I am the Winter Soldier- used to be actually…” Bucky added.

“Are you here to kill me?” the man’s voice shook, “because if you really are him then you have every right to do so,” he stepped back and opened the door for Bucky to walk in.

“I’m here to talk, you’re not going to die.” Bucky walked in and kicked off his combat boots, he’d heard it’s a thing in Canada to take your shoes off in the house. He also heard there was bagged milk which didn’t make any sense to him, but he wasn’t about to argue.

“That’s always good to hear, eh?” the accent slipped out again, it was weird for Bucky to see this man who haunted him just laughing. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” Dr. Wright asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

His house was small, not many walls as one room just faded into another. Knick-knacks littered shelves and tables, everything brought a homey feel to it all, the house was very lived in. “No thanks,” Bucky waved up a hand to signal no.

The doctor came and sat across from him, Bucky was sitting on a chair while Dr. Wright took the sofa, they both were wrapped in plastic. It made a squeaky sound when either of them moved but it didn’t seem to bother the doctor at all, Bucky one final time before swearing he wasn’t going to move again and hear that annoying sound. Both of Bucky’s hands were clasped in front of him, he felt too large and bulky for this petite chair, his fingers fiddled with each other. He’d pick and poke at the massive gloves he wore, his long sleeve was covering everything he needed.

“So, Dr. Wright-”

“Jacob, son,” he corrected, “though I am a doctor,” Jacob hesitated, “I go by Jacob.”

“Is that your real first name?” Bucky asked, he was met with a smile and nod, “then call me Bucky, please.” Bucky smiled back, there was a growing tension between the both of them but they chose to ignore it.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” Jacob seemed to relax at the name, he was scared of Bucky and Bucky could tell. This man had seen Bucky train for years on end, and Jacob knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of. “What do you need to talk to me about?” his cane rested beside him, his hand found its way there and just held it.

“I need to talk to you about Hydra, any information you have on the Iceland base- or any base in Halifax, Iceland, Greenland, and there’s one more…” Bucky brought a gloved hand to his stubbled chin, the leather making a rough noise when it brushed against the facial hair. “Oh! It was Newfoundland, anything you knew about those four places.”

Jacob thought for a moment, he didn’t have stubble to rub. Though he was old it was obvious he still thought that it was the old days, hair slicked back and a very fresh shave, facial hair wasn’t allowed unless you had grown it out in private. Bucky had always remembered Howard Stark’s mustache; he couldn’t picture him without it.

“I mean, I was just a scientist, I ran labs and tested things on animals. I didn’t come up with the world ending plans, I was never told the reason for what I was doing, I was just told to do it.” Jacob sounded worried, “when I used to work for Hydra I was worried for my life everyday, they were so paranoid all the time that someone could be a rat. If you said ‘hail Hydra’ a little too quietly then you’d have a bullet between your eyes, I just kept my head down and did what I was told.” Jacob’s hand got increasingly tighter on the handle of his cane.

“Was there something new they were working on?” Bucky asked, and he pulled out a little flip book to keep track.

“I quit a total of ten years ago, when I was seventy-one, the only thing they were thinking of was keeping you in their grasp, there was no other plan.” Jacob shrugged, “Hydra couldn’t see a life source without you, they never intended on losing you the way they did.”

“So you have no idea what they could possibly be working on, at all?” the hope Bucky had was falling, this was the only lead they knew and if all he could say was there was never a plan B, you were screwed.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I really want to help, but I just don’t know.” Jacob stood and walked back to the kitchen. He filled a glass of water and grabbed three pills from a container before heading back over to his seat.

“Out of the four places I mentioned, Iceland, Greenland, Halifax, and Newfoundland,” Bucky paused and watched Jacob mutter them to himself and then take the pills, “which one is the strongest?”

Jacob swallowed his pills with water, “Iceland.” without any hesitation, no second guess, nothing giving away he was lying for didn’t know. “Iceland was hell for me, it has the best of the best for agents, scientists, and…” he glanced out the window, “cells and tourture.”

Bucky shot up right away, he headed to the door. Jacob followed him, glass still in his hand. When Bucky was about to leave Jacob placed a hand on his shoulder. When Bucky turned back around the hand traveled along the center of his chest, “I'm not wired, Jacob.” Bucky eased.

“Some things just come second nature, son.” Jacob kept his head down, “y’know, I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was making my old man proud, but I never stopped to realize what I was doing was actually wrong.” Jacob looked up with glossy eyes, “I actually wanted to find you at some point because I know I was the one who woke you up last, I remember clearly the way you looked, right then, I knew I needed to leave that place.” Jacob shuffled over and stood completely square to Bucky, Bucky just looked down at Jacob with a face of horror. The man Bucky saw every night was crying and apologizing to him, he didn’t know anyone who worked with Hydra had a heart. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” Jacob reached in his back pocket, he had placed the glass of water on a side table. “Here, take some money-”

“No, none of that, Jacob, really,” Bucky held his hands out, “you’re forgiven, don’t worry about all that, I just need to find someone.” Bucky reached for the door.

“What do you mean?” Jacob fished in his wallet.

“Hydra stole my girlfriend, I think she's in Iceland.” Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together at Jacob who was given him a coin.

“I think you’re right,” Jacob dropped the coin in Bucky’s palm before closing the door, the screen door creaked as it shut quickly with the wind.

Time: 2:33pm

Date: October 2nd 2024

Steve, Nat, and Wanda were walking around on the closed road, stands of every fruit and pastry lined the streets. Wanda was on top of the moon, she had a tote bag with some apple turnovers in them, that was really all she wanted. Nat had actually bought something too, Steve was genuinely surprised when Nat bought some earrings from a vendor, they were very small and dainty moons that would go in her ear lobes. Steve didn’t buy anything but just liked walking around, there was a lot to see but in a good way, no screens or jumbotrons, just people being people.

As Bucky made eye contact with Steve, Steve’s phone rang. Nat and Wanda rushed up to Bucky and were asking how it went, but the unknown caller was what Steve was focusing on.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve lowered his voice.

“Captain Rogers,” an all too familiar voice hit his ear.

“King T’Challa?” Steve turned his back to the group.

“We have three Hydra agents in custody, they tried to take out my sister,” his accent flowed and bounced as he talked.

“Keep them in the cells, we’re on our way.”

“Will there be more of them?” T’Challa asked before he could hang up.

“I don’t know, but hold them and don’t kill them, they might be our only hope.” Steve said his goodbyes and hung up.

When he turned back to Bucky and the rest of them, they seemed scared, Bucky had overheard Steve’s call, super hearing, and was looking at him weird.

“What was that?” Bucky asked.

“King T’Challa, says there was an attempted hit on Shuri, doesn’t know where they came from but they want her.” Steve shoved his phone in his back pocket, “what did you find?”

Bucky just held up a silver coin, “we’re going to Iceland.”

“We need to go to Wakanda,” Steve stepped forward.

“Not all four of us,” Nat pulled everyone aside from the farmer’s market, “I’ll go with Steve to Wakadna, you go with Wanda to Iceland. We’ll be talking and before you ambush the Hydra base in Iceland we’ll confirm y/n is in there, deal?” She looked to the other three.

“Deal.”

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine @commonintrest @buckyys-doll @lil-baby-nor

let me know if you want a tag!

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes series #bucky #bucky x yn #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #winter #winter soldier #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier angst #winter soldier series #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst

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vukovich · 3 years ago

Note

peculiar prompt: soulmate au where your dick is the same exact length as your soulmate’s (i guess everyone has a dick in this universe idk 😂) anyways drarry discovering they are soulmates in whatever convoluted way you would like!

Nine and Three Quarters

Summer weddings were an unlikely tradition for a family that ran high to freckles and sunburns, but Harry didn't mind. Usually.

This wedding, though, he'd have just as soon not attended. It wasn't that he harbored any romantic intentions toward Charlie, but seeing him so bloody happy made Harry keenly aware of his own solitude.

Charlie and Constantin fed each other forkfuls of cake and grinned. They were perfectly-matched. Identical white short sleeve dress shirts and gold waistcoats, sparkling blue eyes and mirrored grins as they threatened each other with blobs of icing, much to Molly's horror.

Their matching gold rings felt like an extension of the tattoos on the underside of their left forearms. Charlie's was a dragon, of course. Constantin's was a crouched hippogriff. They were exactly the same size, but different designs and colors.

Forearm tattoos abounded among gay wizards, but it had taken seeing Charlie and Constantin together for him to notice the pattern. A plate of cake floated to his table and set itself down in front of him. He picked it apart with his fork, separating the layers of frosting out from the the cake, then mashed the fluffy cake down into a pellet.

A breathless Charlie flopped into an empty chair next to him and surveyed the wreckage on his plate.

"Got a grudge against that cake?"

"Huh? Oh. No. Sorry."

Charlie slid Harry's cake away, probably for its own good. Constantin and Fleur fox-trotted past, and one of them reached out to ruffle Charlie's hair.

"No date?"

"Nah." Harry licked his fork clean, rolled the bits of cake around in his mouth, and wished he'd have eaten the slice.

"Still doing the playboy thing, eh?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess."

Charlie huffed a laugh. "You guess? What else would you be doing at clubs?"

Harry shrugged again.

"Well, if you get tired of it and want the name of a really good soulmate tattoo artist, let me know." Charlie wiped up a dab of frosting off Harry's plate and popped his finger in his mouth. "Until then, enjoy hunting in the dark."

Charlie rose to leave, but Harry reached out and grabbed him by the buckle on the back of his waistcoat.

"Soulmate tattoos?"

"But I thought the tattoo went on my arm."

Harry kept his hands in his jeans pockets, just in case the man decided to help him disrobe.

"It does..."

Bushy grey eyebrows rose in speculation, and the man's brown eyes squinted at Harry, unsure of whether Harry was playing a prank, playing dumb, or playing at nothing.

"So why would I take my trousers off?"

"Riiiggght," he said slowly, gently spinning back and forth on his stool. "Why don't you tell me what you do know about soulmate tattoos."

Harry hooked his thumbs in his pockets and looked around the tattoo parlour for clues, but there was nothing but drawings on the walls. Pictures of forearms, too, all with differing sizes of beasts and creatures on them.

"Uhm," Harry started, "they go on forearms." The man nodded and motioned for him to continue. "And... they're... magic?"

The man shook his head and sighed. "The death of gay wizard culture, I swear. I blame that app."

"Wait, there's an app for-"

"Soulmate tattoos are the size of the wearer's dick."

Every tattoo Harry had ever seen ran through his head at once, and he stood slack-jawed for what felt like hours.

The man continued. "And so part of getting one is getting your dick measured. Professionally."

"I... Uh..."

"Men lie on the app. That's why all these boys are running around thinking they don't have soulmates, but older men know better. Back in the day, we'd just walk up to a bloke, line our arms up, and pair off."

Harry looked at the ceiling and tried to imagine a scenario in which that didn't sound both terrifying and oddly comforting.

"Why would you line them up?"

The man stared at him for a long. fucking. time.

"Soulmate dicks match, kid." He grumbled something about the Internet. "Now do you want the tattoo or not?"

"I... Uhm... Maybe later?"

"Suit yourself."

There had to be a better way to do this.

Harry balanced on tip-toe, focused on his dick with one eye, and dipped his quill. His tongue peeked out a corner of his lips as he concentrated on tracing around his shaft.

Was the quill angled accurately? Was the nib too far from his skin to be accurate? Was width even relevant?

He let out a held breath and dropped down to his heels. The paper on his desk was an embarrassment.

"Looks like a fucking caterpillar," he grumbled to himself.

Maybe they made enchanted quills for this.

The nook of art supplies at Flourish and Blotts was overwhelming, but it smelled good. Needle-sharp enchanted nibs sounded like a terrible idea. Image-grabbing paper sounded equally dangerous. What if he got his dick stabbed or absorbed into a piece of paper?

Someone cleared their throat behind him.

"Can I help you?"

Draco Malfoy met his eyes with a hesitant smile. He looked strangely at home surrounded by paper and ink. He wore a rumpled black t-shirt that advertised in bold white letters "Truth Quills: The Reign of Error Ends Here".

"Uhm... maybe?"

"What kind of project are you working on?"

"I'm... just... tracing something?"

Draco nodded and reached up to grab a pack of nibs just above Harry's head. The Dark Mark on his forearm caught Harry's eye. It wasn't a Dark Mark anymore. The skull wore a crown of red roses, and the snake had been filled in with vibrant yellow and blue markings. Harry decided it looked a bit like a Grateful Dead album cover. But prettier.

"These are good for most projects if you're just starting out."

Draco handed him a plastic box with more thingamajigs than he had any idea what to do with.

"Uhm, okay. Thanks."

"No problem." Draco's eyes wandered down to Harry's forearm and his smile faltered. "Anything else?"

"No, I think I'm good."

He wasn't good. He was nowhere near good, and he had black ink all over his dick. Also on his hands, and the table, and the floor, but those were less important.

"Looks like a goddamn Holstein dong."

"Alright," Draco said, and his smile was bordering on a smirk. "But what's the reference? What are you trying to trace?"

A dozen dick-shaped things came to mind, and Harry blurted, "A banana."

Draco did not laugh. Not with his mouth. Just with his eyes. His t-shirt today said "Blink Ink: Drier than your ex" in jagged black script.

"Mm hm," Draco squeaked through his nose. "Is accuracy important?"

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "Yes."

Draco cleared his throat and schooled his face. "Here."

He handed Harry a Truth Quill. "That ought to give you an accurate outline of your... banana."

"Hot damn!"

Harry held the outline of his cock up to the light. Damned if it wasn't perfect. He laid it face-down on his forearm and frowned. How was he supposed to get it onto his skin?

Draco faked a cough and covered his mouth and nose with his hand. "Pardon?"

"I need to transfer it."

"But a backlight won't work because..."

"Uhm... it can't... light can't go through the... other... thing."

Draco's t-shirt today had a frilly, looping font that said, "Nearotica: Almost There."

"Dare I ask what material you're transferring this banana onto?"

Harry focused on Draco's forearm, and the curve of the roses, and the sinewy body of the snake.

"Uhm... leather?"

Draco shot him a challenging look Harry didn't understand. "I suppose you'd want a cautery tool for that."

"Uhm... okay."

He wasn't okay. He had two burned dots on his forearm, and a hole in his paper at the base and tip of the outline.

Over a hundred galleons spent, and all he had to show for it were what looked like two mosquito bites that were exactly one penis-length apart.

The hell with all of it.

Harry dropped bags of barely-used art supplies on the store counter, and Draco's chin snapped up. He cocked his head and looked at the bags while Harry read his t-shirt: "Thrill Your Darlings: Tropes and Nopes."

"Didn't work out?" Draco asked.

Harry bent down, rested his elbows on the counter, and shook his head. "Can I return it?"

Draco shrugged. "Store credit, since it's all been opened."

Harry buried his face in his hands. "I'll take it in coloring books."

"I'll throw in some markers."

Draco shot him a pitying smile and stood to collect the bags. His eyes caught on the two burn marks on Harry's forearm. He set his elbow next to Harry's and pressed their wrists together.

"Huh," Draco exhaled. He rolled his tattoo against Harry's forearm. The peak of the rose crown touched the mark nearest Harry's wrist, and the snake's tail met the other.

Harry stared at their arms, wide-eyed and panicked in the best way.

"Is it-" Harry started. "Do they, uhm..."

"I... do believe so. If your banana outline was accurate."

Harry gulped. "It was."

"Huh," Draco repeated. "Well, in that case, there's a giant mandala coloring poster I've had my eye on, but it's a bit much for one person."

Harry let a grin spread across his face. "Consider it sold."

#peculiar prompts #drarry #drarry fluff #cw: self-harm (accidental)

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years ago

Text

Gravity

Genre: Angst, Unrequited Love

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

A/N: This was basically just a therapy write.

What is worth? It is neither tangible nor seeable. It doesn’t have a body or a shell. Yet, the endless chase to catch it, to hold it captive, is a never ending disease that eats away at the brain and tears apart the heart. It’s only descriptor is feeling. A judgement. Something either is or isn’t. When it's an object in question, the call for worth is passive, innocent. It’s wanted or it's not. The deterioration comes into play when the worth is applied to a person.

Kim Junmyeon was worth the world.

With a smile that could chase away a storm and a heart too good and pure for the human populace, he was truly worth more than the world. He was worth more than you deserved.

Not only was his face kind, but it was handsome. Beautiful, even. Candid photos were museum worthy masterpieces. There was a gentleness, a softness to his eyes and cheeks that contradicted the sharpness of his jaw and the strength of his body. His laugh was infectious and his mind as vast and deep as the ocean. The sum of his whole was worth so much.

But you were not worthy of such a person. You weren’t as stunning as a sunset over the mountains or as extraordinary as a new discovery. You were simply… you. Staring from afar, admiring but never touching.

You wished you could be worthy. You wished you could be special enough - good enough to be with him. Pretty enough would be something decent to settle for. But you were invisible. A person on the sidelines. Out of the spotlight. You were an admirer - not one to be admired.

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked, your attention torn away from the spot where Junmyeon was standing, laughing and chatting with a few of his seniors. Kyungsoo, who sat to your left at the small table in the entertainment building’s cafe, didn’t even look up from the script he was currently reviewing. He’d only been given it the day before and was still considering if he wanted the part that was being offered to him.

Your gaze dropped to the opened yet untouched notebook lying in front of you on the somewhat sticky surface. Someone must have spilled their syprup-y coffee and didn’t do the best job at cleaning it up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without moving his head, Kyungsoo looked at you over the rim of his glasses. Even though you were sure you were nothing more than a blur to his eyes at the moment, he could always see right through you. “If you keep staring at him like that, you’re going to give yourself away.”

The ultimate nightmare. The humiliation of being found out. The sweet but awkward rejection that you knew would follow. With his laugh still ringing in your ears, you forced yourself to tune Junmyeon out.

Pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger, Kyungsoo straightened and closed the script. “We can go somewhere else, if that would help.”

You wanted to argue no. That you weren’t a coward. That you weren’t going to run and hide simply because you looked at him like he was the night sky while you were stuck on the ground. You used to have better control of yourself. You used to be able to hide it better. But lately, it had only gotten worse.

And you were a coward.

“Yeah. Maybe one of the practice rooms is empty.”

“There’s usually one.”

After gathering up your things, you followed Kyungsoo out of the cafe, stealing a final glance. Junmyeon didn’t so much as twitch in your direction. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he hadn’t even realized that you were there in the cafe for the past half hour.

Kyungsoo settled into one corner of the worn navy blue couch while you squeezed into the other. Not speaking a word, he went back to reading the script. That was a nicety of your friendship. Comfortable silence was more than readily available when needed. He didn’t push or give unasked for advice. He was an ear to listen and a presence to take in when you didn’t want to be alone.

You stared down at the notebook in your lap where your next story ideas were supposed to be filling the pages. But nothing was coming out. Not even the vague pictures you’d had earlier this morning. The only things being called to the paper were the sentences held in the invisible tears you refused to shed. Words of wishes and frustrations swirled around inside the tiny droplets, every letter as heavy as lead. Your cruel mind kept echoing at you the conversation that had constricted the air in your lungs.

Two days ago, you’d accidentally overheard a drama staff worker jokingly say that Junmyeon and his current co-star seemed awfully close, more than merely friends. Stomach lurching, you ran to the nearest bathroom. Nothing came out but almost fifteen minutes of deliberate breathing had gone by before you emerged again. Kyungsoo was quick to dismiss the comment after barely three words from you. The effect, however, still lingered.

Despite the history of your intrusive thoughts, you wanted to believe that you could be good enough. That you were worthy of being beside someone like Junmyeon. His co-costar was stunning, even in real life. Someone who didn’t need photoshop to draw out gasps of awe and astonishment. Someone you most certainly couldn’t compete with in any race.

You weren’t asking for much. Just to be able to hold his hand, your fingers interlaced between his own. The fantasy you allowed yourself to indulge in at times wasn’t a grand gesture or a modern fairytale. You wanted simplicity. The smaller moments that could mean so much. Mundane, to some eyes.

Warm sun rays leaked through the closed blinds over the living room windows. A clock on the wall ticked away the meaningless minutes. Sometimes soft music hummed in the background, sometimes there was nothing but silence. Junmyeon would lay across the length of the couch with you wrapped around his side. His fingers would absentmindedly caress your shoulder or arm. In his other hand was a book, held open by his thumb and pinky. Your own hand drifted through his hair while he read aloud.

The two of you had dozens of endless conversations about books. About the ones you loved and the ones you hated. About deeper meanings and the reflections of life. His love of literature - from the celebrated classics to the obscure unknown - had been what initially drew you in. Everything else was what made you stay.

A muscle in your hand cramped. The peaceful scene faded from your eyes. The page was now filled with barely legible, ink-smeared words. You’d written the entire scenario out, along with your heart, without even realizing it.

In a panic, you ripped the paper from its spiral hold, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the trash can across the room. It missed.

“I doubt whatever you wrote was that bad,” Kyungsoo murmured. He read the final few lines of the script and closed it.

“It wasn’t,” you admitted bitterly. “But I shouldn’t have written it.” You described the scene to him while your eyes stayed trained on the loose thread twirling between your fingers.

He sighed. “You’re never going to tell him, are you?”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You’re just stopping yourself.”

You scoffed. “Why would I deliberately set myself up like that? Break me the rest of the way?”

Kyungsoo stared at you, long and hard, his expression blank to those who couldn’t read the tell-tale signs that his thoughts were in overdrive. “You’re really hurting, aren’t you?”

You sniffed, though no tears were yet forcing their way to the surface. “Most days.”

“Then walk away.”

“I can’t.” Your voice broke - just like your heart. The world blurred when you shook your head. “I can’t… simplify it. But-- It’s like I was this stupid lump of rock drifting aimlessly through space, content with my life. Then suddenly, I came across this brilliant star that shined so brightly and… we collided. And now I’m stuck in his orbit. But he just keeps on spinning while my whole world had changed completely. He’s… my gravity. I don’t know anything else anymore.”

“Maybe it’s time to find your own orbit.”

Afraid it might crack again, your voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t know how.”

The door creaked open and your heart leapt. Junmyeon stuck his head inside. Had he overheard everything?

“There you are! I turned away for a second and suddenly you two weren’t in the cafe anymore.”

He’d… He’d seen you? In the cafe?

“It was too loud,” Kyungsoo lied, covering up for you like he always did.

“It’s always too loud for you,” Junmyeon teased. Then his face morphed into that leader-esque expression. “We need to head to rehearsal. You’re welcome to join us,” he nodded to you.

“No, that’s okay,” you said quickly in response. “I have a writer’s meeting.” No, you didn’t, but space felt like the right choice at the moment. You tried not to focus on the lack of disappointment coming from the direction of the door.

“Maybe next time.” Junmyeon slapped the side of the door. “Let’s go, Soo.”

You were actually the first one on your feet, muttering goodbyes to both of them and then walking down the hall perhaps a little too fast.

You didn’t allow your mind to think the whole way home. Every action was done in automatic mode. Only the minimal amount of awareness was used. But when the apartment door clicked behind you, when the near darkness wrapped you up, when the silence crept in and the empty couch mocked you… you broke.

Knees buckling from under you, the cold hard floor came closer and you didn’t leave that spot just inside the room as the tears and sobs crashed out in waves.

This was what you hated the most. The breakdowns that came with no excuse. They were built up by your own mind, by your intrusive thoughts. You tortured yourself with what you could never have. The attacks were random and it was only recently that you had learned to hold them in long enough until you were safe within your own walls. One time, you hadn’t made it. Kyungsoo had been there to pat your shoulder.

Kyungsoo. He was right.

That clarity was coming through as the tears dried and your breathing evened out again. You needed space. You needed to separate yourself from what wasn’t good for you and not see him. Not even have the temptation to.

This was going to hurt like hell.

The office somehow looked smaller with the bare walls. Since the day you moved in, you tried to liven it up, give it character, make it reflect the interests you loved. How were you supposed to write if this place felt like a stifling corporate desert, dry of any creativity?

Not that you ever actually wrote in this twelve by eight space. This place had been reserved for meetings and other usually boring necessities. You didn’t know the next time a budget meeting or an email check would be conducted here. You could be back in a few months and move back in as if you never left. Or someone else could take over. Only time would tell.

The box that currently had your attention was nearly full. You’d have to come back for the rest. There wasn’t much left, anyway. You took another look around to see if there was anything else you could do at the moment. The monitors were black, the tower underneath - so much smaller than the one you’d had as a kid - was powered off, and the chair that was aligned just so to your favored adjustments was pushed into the gray desk. Saying goodbye to this place really did hurt.

But you needed to do this.

And yet, you felt like you were drowning, being dragged deeper into the black water. Your lungs were screaming for relief.

“You’re really leaving?”

Your shoulders stiffened. At first, you didn’t look up at him. You weren’t sure what to say to him. Being here… it was the last place you expected him to be today. Kyungsoo would have told him, but you wouldn’t have waited around for him to appear.

“Hi, Junmyeon.” You folded up the top of the box, overlapping the pieces so it would stay shut in transport.

“I thought you liked it here?”

“I love it,” you confessed. “But I- I need to go home for a little while.”

“Are you homesick?”

“Something like that.” Definitely some version of sick.

He nodded. “Will you be gone long?” His eyes drifted over the holes in the walls leftover from the frames that used to hang in front of them.

“I don’t know.” You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This was…. You should go. Pushing your fingers under the box, you started to lift it to take it home.

“Do you have to go?”

The question stalled you. Confused, the box went back down on the desk. “Why are you here, Junmyeon?”

He shrugged, though it didn’t shake off the stiffness in his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his arms all the way to his wrists covered up by the sleeves of his shirt. Lately he had been rolling them up. You wondered what had changed today. “You’re our friend.”

Friend.

Friend. Friend. Friend.

The word rang over and over like a declaration of war. Our friend.

The smart thing to do would have been to nod, say goodbye, and leave. But - instead - you opened your mouth.

“I will always be your friend.”

That didn't make him smile like you would have thought. “So, then why do you have to leave?”

You rubbed your eyebrow, fighting within yourself. You lost.

“Have you ever had a friend so head over heels for someone that won’t even look at them twice? But they don’t care? Because as long as the person they’re looking at is happy, then they’re happy. Even if your friend is completely miserable in the process. Because they no longer care about their own self. They just keep looking at the other person, doing anything that entails that they’re still happy.” You swallowed thickly to try and keep your voice steady. By your sides, your hands were trembling at this roundabout confession. “And you want to shake them. You want to tell them to get out. Because as long as they stick around, they won’t look at one else. No one else exists. Well, this is me. Getting out.”

The frown on Junmyeon’s face deepened as he let your words sink in. “Who is it? Will you tell me?”

No. Because this was enough of an admittance. Because it was time to find your own sense of gravity.

So, without a word, you picked up the box and left the office.

Waiting for you when you came back was the scene you had written in the practice room that day, flattened out but still wrinkled as it laid on the desk.

#exo #kim junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #kim joonmyeon #suho #suho x reader #exo oneshot #exo drabble #exo angst #exo unrequited love #kpop

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coeurdastronaute · 4 years ago

Text

Essays In Existentialism: Nerd 13

Previously on Nerd

“One more time,” Lexa called out, walking backwards to the other end of the lane, her sneakers kicking up some dust as she moved and watched the playback on her phone.

“Your girlfriend is a little intense, eh?” Evan asked as he followed Clarke back to the start of their scene.

Clarke looked up and wiped a little sweat from her brow as she watched Lexa move with Luna, talking about something, watching her phone while Luna juggled a camera and a script that’d seen better days. The messy waves were tamed, tied up and hidden by a baseball hat from her sister’s university, well-tattered and sweat-lined. The sleeves on her shirt were rolled up, exposing a slight bit of bicep, her jeans were caked in dirt and mud.

“She’s hot though, right?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“I’ll allow you to answer it just this once.”

“In a weird way, yeah, I guess,” he shrugged. “Ow! What the fuck?”

“She’s super hot in a normal way,” Clarke informed him after socking his arm.

“I meant like, I never considered it. Like, weird in a way I hadn’t considered. I’d prefer not to think of her like that, but you made me.”

“Good, and you’ll never think of her like that ever again.”

“Let’s give it one more go, and this time, Evan, I want you to pause before you answer Clarke. I want her words to ring for a moment. Play it how you think your character would feel it. Just for fun.”

He nodded and Clarke smiled at how serious Lexa was, how intricately she thought about the scene. They’d been at it for three weeks and were nearly finished, toiling away after school as best they could, and Clarke found that she didn’t think she was the world’s greatest actress, but that she did enjoy seeing her girlfriend doing something she was insanely passionate about. There’s a bit of magic in seeing someone happy about something they enjoy. As silly as it might have seemed, Clarke let her imagination wonder to the idea of Lexa actually achieving her dream, of making things. She jumped twenty years, and Lexa was the exact same person, but different, but better, somehow. It was silly, but it helped.

“Notes for me, sir?” she ventured.

“You’re perfect. Keep being perfect.”

As silly as it was again, Clarke smiled proudly and ignored the eye roll Luna gave before setting up with the camera again.

In reality, it was about six more takes, two more requested by Luna, three requested by Evan, and once by Clarke. It was infectious to care and try to do better. But they were finally done with all else, and the end somehow felt so final. Though she’d been hesitant to try, now that they’d created something, Clarke felt connected to the entire thing.

“So when will I get to see the entire thing?” Clarke asked, carefully dropping a bag of equipment on Lexa’s bedroom floor.

“Oh, uh, maybe at the end of the summer? It’ll go through a ton of work with Luna and myself, and I’m not sure what we’re going to do… I will definitely show you though as soon as it is done.”

“I’d hope so.”

“Thank you for helping me with this,” Lexa offered as she ran her hand over the back of her neck. “I know you are really busy. SAT, work, school, pep squad.”

“And you’re not?”

“Well, yeah, but I chose this, and you were recruited,” she shrugged.

With a sigh, Lexa plopped onto her bed, tired and spent from the busy weekend.

“You can recruit me anytime,” Clarke promised.

In a move that was still somewhat new to Lexa, hips circled her own, and knees gripped her thighs, and that led to a lot of feelings in her body, especially in the below the belt part that she hadn’t particularly figured out in the practical sense. Theoretically she knew exactly what was happening.

Without saying anything else, Clarke removed her girlfriend’s ball cap and tossed it on the bed. Lexa held her hips, ran her hands up her thighs and squeezed there, careful not to move her eyes anywhere but Clarke’s face. But they closed on their own when hands ran along her temples, scratching the sweat and soreness away, melting her instantly.

There’d been a truce ever since the dance. There’d been a few make outs that went slightly past polite. There’d been a few time hands wandered lazily where they might not have been allowed, but didn’t care about no trespassing signs. There hadn’t been Clarke in her lap though, and Lexa knew this was different. She made it different when her hands slid around hips and toward Clarke’s ass. She squeezed and she thought she’d died.

By the time Clarke kissed her, Lexa realized she was on her back in her bed with the head cheerleader on top of her. When hips pushed against her, she realized she was going to stop. Hands went to her chest. Hands slid under her shirt. Hands slid under her bra and she pushed back against being pinned.

It all disappeared in a second, and confused at the loss of lips and contact, Lexa opened her eyes and searched. Clarke sat there, hands braced on her stomach until she lifted her own shirt and tossed it on the floor. Scrambling, Lexa lifted herself, tangling her arms in an attempt at solidarity in taking clothes off only to be aided by an amused girlfriend.

“Wow,” she whispered, taking her time to look over new skin before her. She kept her hands locked on Clarke’s hips despite wanting to move them. She let her eyes roam shamelessly. “You’re like… wow.”

“Is this okay?”

“Very okay.”

“Thank God,” Clarke nodded before leaning back down, cupping Lexa’s face, and kissing her again, fiercer this time, if it were possible.

Hips moved more this time. Breathing picked up more. Hands pulled, tugged, grasped tighter. They clawed at each other and at more, at what their bodies already knew how to do but their brains overthought and tempered. It was a battle of want and need and restraint, and in it, they both knew which was losing.

In a shaky attempt, Lexa somehow unhooked Clarke’s bra. And in an instant her girlfriend was topless on top of her, and now her lower half was absolutely made of lava. It was painfully molten.

“Oh… my…. Goodness,” she hummed.

Clarke pressed her hands harder against Lexa’s ribs and rotated her hips. Lexa slid her hands up Clarke’s chest and squeezed. She watched her hands moved and touch and feel. She was touching someone else’s nipples for the first time ever, which was a weird thing to be cognizant of, but something that she never imagined desiring. But she did. And she wanted to memorize it entirely. She earned a hum and she pushed her hips up, in an off-kilter response to Clarke’s hips.

“Hey Lex, you home, sweetheart?” a voice called out from down the hall.

The spell was broken. The frantic, hot buildup was drenched in freezing cold water. The skin on display was covered with shirts as quickly as possible and the contact of bodies was broken with as much space as humanely possible placed between them.

“Yeah, uh,” Lexa cleared her throat and tucked in her shirt for some reason as she stood, her legs wobbly and her head not much more sturdy. “Just got home.”

“Your mom is bringing home dinner. She got sandwiches from the deli.”

“Sounds good!”

“Want to work on your car?”

“Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“Sounds good, kiddo. I’m just going to go change.”

Her father’s voice faded as he moved toward his room. Lexa leaned against her door and looked back at Clarke in her room. The blonde just pushed her hair out of her face and tried to adjust her shirt, tugging her bra slightly from the quick reassembly of her parts. Her lips were puffy. Her cheeks were bright red. She was perfect, Lexa realized.

Lexa cleared her throat again and redid her pony tail.

“So that was--”

“Really good,” Clarke finished. “Maybe we should… it’s good your dad-- we should talk about this, right?”

“Um, yeah, I think.”

“Not right now though.”

“Of course, yeah,” Lexa nodded, unsure exactly what was going to be discussed and even worse when it would be. She needed more context clues because too much had just occurred, and she was a specifics type of girl.

“I should head home. I have to finish some physics homework and take a cold shower.”

“Right, yeah. It was hot out there today and I kept you out in the sun.”

“Okay, we definitely are going to have to have some conversations.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lexa asked, cocking her head as Clarke picked up her backpack and shouldered it, making her way to the door.

“Not at all. I just want to be able to talk about sex with you before we do it because I imagine you might need it, and to be honest I’m not sure how much longer I can survive how sexy you are.”

Sex. Clarke wanted sex. They had almost, Lexa imagined. And Clarke was talking about sex with her and wanted to talk about sex with her and wanted to have sex with her and talk about the having of sex with her and they were going to have sex. Having sex was an option that they were going to talk because they were going to have sex and they should talk about it. It was going to be a thing that was discussed between the two of them because sex was going to happen and it might have almost happened and they should talk about the sex that almost and might also in the future happen. Sex.

“I’m kidding,” Clarke assured Lexa, pressing her hand to the center of her chest and bringing her back from the place she just died and went to. “I can wait however long we need to, but I think we should talk about it so something like this doesn’t happen and we don’t have a clear line drawn or not drawn. Think about where your line is, I guess and then we can talk about it.”

“Okay.”

Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek and then her jaw and then her neck and then her lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm. Yes. Me okay. I’m okay. Always ok.”

“Did I melt your brain with the mention of sex?” Clarke smiled.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“No rush, I promise. Just like to be prepared.”

“Like a boy scout.”

“Don’t stress. I like you.”

“Mmm,” Lexa nodded and tried to make her eyes not be completely huge, tried to make her heart stop throbbing in her pants and ears, tried to make her brain not explode or melt.

“I’ll talk to you later. Have fun with your dad.”

“Mmm,” she hummed and nodded as Clarke moved past her toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

In an instant, Clarke was gone, and Lexa looked down at her hands. They’d been on Clarke’s naked boobs. She looked at her hips. They’d been on Clarke’s thighs. She looked at her bed and how surprised she was that her body just did some of the things it did. She wasn’t sure what else it was capable of, but she decided she might need to do research.

XXXXXXXXXX

“I need to talk to you about two things.”

“Hey, I’m good, thanks for asking. Just cramming for some finals, but yeah I definitely have time to help you out.”

“Okay, good,” Lexa nodded to herself as she paced through the garage, twisting a wrench around as she moved, twirling it around her fingers. It all happened quite seriously as she surveyed the car as it was coming to life.

The house was empty, her parents out on a date. Luna was coming over shortly to work on some of their film, but Lexa had a few things she wanted to get done on her car. More than anything though, she needed to speak with her sister desperately regarding many things in her life.

“How have you been, Lex?”

“Pretty good.”

“Anything planned for the summer yet?”

“I have an internship with a film crew that’ll be in town for a few weeks. My history teacher’s old college roommate is first camera. Some movie of the week thing for the holidays.”

“Wow! Lex, that’s huge!”

“I guess. But I need to know about sex. Sex with another girl. You’re in college. Have you had sex with another girl?”

Anya choked on her sip of coffee as she stopped walking down the sidewalk. She nearly dropped part of her armload of books, but managed to get a grip at the last moment.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t.”

“I tried to ask Gus but he said he couldn’t talk to me about it, and I just need someone to tell me what to do because I’ve run out of online resources short of porn and to be honest I looked a few and I didn’t like it.”

“Lots of information to unpack in this…”

“What do I do or who do I talk to?”

“Just give me a second, okay?”

With a sign, Lexa sat the phone down on the edge of the car and went about the tough work of running some wires through the rear panel. If she was doing something with her hand, then she didn’t have to repeat the word sex nine hundred times per minute in her brain.

“You and Clarke are talking about having sex?”

“We’re talking about talking about it.”

“How long have you been dating?”

“Um since beginning of November. Almost six months.”

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t know. I mean…” Lexa paused her movements and furrowed. She hadn’t thought of it like that. It seemed almost insane to quantify her feelings into one word. She was excited to always see Clarke, and when she had a bad day, Clarke was the only person she really wanted to see, and when she did, the bad day just melted away. How was she supposed to figure out if it was love when she couldn’t compare it to anything else? She got butterflies still, when she saw her girlfriend. And Lexa felt this weird need to do things for Clarke, without being asked. She was helpful and attentive because the payoff of Clarke’s smile was worth even a few minutes of forethought. But she hadn’t considered that love, but maybe it was.

“I really don’t know. I like her a lot. I like how we are”

“That’s fair. I guess I should rephrase it. What makes you think you’re ready to have sex?”

“I really want to.”

“Okay, yeah, well everyone really wants to have sex, but what makes you think you’re ready? Can you confidently say where your boundaries are? Are you ready to have a much more intimate relationship with someone?”

“I was kind of just looking for more help in the mechanics of it.”

“That’s the easy part,” Anya smiled to herself as she took another sip of her coffee. The weather was changing, the spring breeze ruffled the trees so they loudly clamoured above as she moved with the crowd along the narrow sidewalk. “There’s a certain level of intimacy in having sex with someone, especially someone you really like. I’m not saying it’s good or bad, but it’s certainly different. Do you think you’re ready to do that?”

“I think so,” Lexa murmured after a moment of contemplation. She tapped a screwdriver against her thigh and stared at a single screw. “I really want to make her feel good and I know that sounds stupid, but I just… Sometimes it’s easier to want to kiss her than tell her exactly what I feel. I want to show her.”

“I can see how that would work. Just so long as you take a good bit of time and really consider it. And remember, even if you agree, you can change your mind at any time.”

“Ugh, not you too! Dad’s already given me a billion consent talks. I just want to go down on Clarke without making a fool of myself.”

Anya couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the outburst, but she somehow managed to hold her phone away from her mouth as she did. It took her a moment to recover.

“Just do what you like and listen to her. Ask her what she enjoys. Be receptive to how she sounds and moves. It’s really not that hard. Just give it your all.”

“This is all fine advice, but I still don’t know how to actually do it.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t like leaving it up to chance.”

“You’ll be fine, I promise. You care for Clarke and I think she’ll be able to show you a thing or two.”

“What does that mean?” Lexa paused her movements and furrowed.

“You’ll see.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“You will, I promise.”

“Are you coming home this summer?”

“I might. So, sex with your girlfriend, huh?”

“Maybe. Is it weird that I just… I want everything to keep going how it has been? It’s been so easy and nice and I didn’t think dating Clarke would be so … so… easy?”

“That’s not weird at all. It sounds like you are having a good time.”

“I’m going to ask her to go to prom.”

“Wow,” Anya smiled to herself, doing her best to sound surprised by the news, as if it wasn’t customary to take once’s girlfriend to prom. “Are you going to do a big ask?”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s me,” Lexa shrugged, even though no one would see it. “And I don’t think it’s Clarke. She’s not like… she’s not like what I would have thought. She’s better.”

“You’ve got it bad.”

“Nah.”

It was nice to talk to her sister. It was nice to be put at ease, even if she just heard a bunch of stuff she already knew. Lexa wasn’t sure how it came to be that she was someone who talked to her sister every few days and actually filled her in on her life. She wasn’t sure how she enjoyed spending Saturday morning with her parents going on a hike or breakfast. She wasn’t sure how it came to be that the head cheerleader was soft and quiet and warm and made her feel like she was full of helium, but it was all happening, and Lexa felt herself open up to the world again without ever realizing she had been closed.

XXXXXXXXXX

For an entire seventy-two hours, Lexa let it all rattle around in her head, the words and the ideas and the thought of it all. All at once it felt like she didn’t know what came next while also incredibly knowing and that held her stuck. She hadn’t thought to ask for more, and she wasn’t sure how to have it. She knew that it was important, and she knew that was a different step than the ones she’d already taken.

Nothing seemed to change with Clarke though.

Lexa still held her girlfriend’s hand between classes, and they still hung out and texted and kissed and no one said anything despite Lexa taking her sister’s advice to really think about what it all meant.

She didn’t know what it meant. Not truly.

“That’s it. I quit. My brain is melting out of my ears.”

With an exaggerated flourish, the body on the bed flopped over and tossed a notebook onto the floor. Eyes rolled back before a tongue hung out and Lexa smiled from her spot at her desk. The music played softly from the speaker on the bookshelf. It was already dark outside as they worked on studying, but the lights reflected so that outside didn’t exist at all.

“Your brain isn’t melting. It’s just growing and growing and will soon explode.”

“I think I prefer the melting,” Clarke sighed.

Lexa smiled to herself because there was the head cheerleader laying in her bed. And Clarke was wearing her old soccer sweatshirt and she was tired from after work, but still stopped by before heading home just for a few hours of studying.

“Would you like to go to prom with me?”

“Me?”

“Yeah you,” Lexa decided, cocking her head slightly. The corpse in her room rolled over again and lifted her head. “With me.”

“Was it the melting brain thing that really sold you?”

“I just like how you look in my bed.”

“Your bed is very comfortable.”

“I thought about the sex thing and I don’t know if I’m ready right now, or by prom or whatever, but I want to just keep doing things slowly if that’s okay?”

Clarke sat up so she was kneeling on the bed. She’d already rolled the sleeves of the sweatshirt that hung a little long on her. There was a hole over the letter on the left part of her chest. Her hair was falling out of a messy bun, and her cheeks had their dimples in them. Lexa took a moment to remember it.

“That’s fine by me.”

“It is?”

“I like how fluid everything is with you. I just wanted you to be aware of what you were feeling and what your limits were.”

“I don’t know them right now, but I’ll know them as things happen, if that’s okay.”

“Very okay.”

“Do you want to go to prom with me?”

“Didn’t I already say yes?”

“No.”

“Well then, yes.”

“Cool,” Lexa grinned, holding her chin on her palm.

Clarke relaxed slightly and smiled back.

“Cool.”

216 notes · View notes

missfiggy · 4 years ago

Text

The Tablet

For dear @clare-with-no-i on her birthday!

I'm always vaguely working on some massively long marauder series for the last three years at Hogwarts but have never come close to finishing it.

Sharing a chapter from the never to be published work that takes place in the summer before Fifth Year. It features some of the architecture and floral and fauna of the beloved Potter House head canon we share, and it's about friendship, so I thought it appropriate for your bday!

Enjoy and happy happy day!

Rating: Probably PG-13 for language and subject matter

The Tablet

“James Potter, you are a bloody idiot,” muttered the boy to himself as he nervously ran his fingers through his unruly mop of black hair.

Standing in a dense oak woodland, James Potter clambered over a few jagged rocks and felled trees to reach his abandoned broomstick that lay near the riverbed of a spluttering stream. He gingerly picked up the gleaming broom handle and gently turned it over in his hands, examining it for any signs of damage. It was his brand new Nimbus 1500, a congratulatory gift from his father for being named captain of his house quidditch team. His brand new broomstick that he just ploughed into the thick old tree trunk.

The accident wasn’t his fault really. James thought back to all the times he whizzed through the forest without incident. His family’s house was situated on the edge of an ancient forest. Since he was a boy, James would run time trials through the trees. First, he’d set the course by hanging scarves over various branches on a winding path. Then, he’d slalom through the trees, retrieving the scarves as quickly as he could manage, each run through an opportunity to shave seconds off his best times.

If I hadn’t been distracted, he thought grimly. James knew that was neither fair nor accurate. He’d flown distracted dozens of times. In fact, he often flew specifically because he was distracted or upset. He knew the speed and the wind and the sky would chip away at his burdened mind until there was nothing left. Just him and pure flight. Still, a niggling memory bounced at the back of his mind, commandeering his thoughts and frustrating him endlessly.

The morning before, James awoke to a dry, high pitch scratching noise: the sound of a writing on a chalkboard. He knew immediately where the sound was coming from. He popped out of bed and stumbled over to his desk. He grabbed a small black slate rectangle upon which white words were appearing in a familiar script. The tablets had been his friend Peter’s idea. A way for James and his four best friends to communicate instantaneously, even when not together. The boys took four pieces of slate and charmed them so that what was written on one would appear on them all. The boys made a pact not to erase til all four of them had initialed the message, indicating it was received (exceptions, of course, were to be made when a slate was at risk of falling into the hands of a parent or a teacher).

Good sirs! Better bring that bottle of Ogden’s next week. I. Am. Now. A. Man. - SB

James knew immediately what his best mate, Sirius Black, meant by that. In their third year, when girls stopped being just slightly better smelling classmates and started becoming the most alluring, terrifying, and confounding creatures imaginable, James and his mates made a pact. If one of the boys ever plucked up the courage to talk to one of the girls, and in talking so persuaded said creature to snog, and in snogging so persuaded said creature to shag, then the other three boys were obliged to chip in and buy a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey for the conquering hero.

Well then, James thought numbly, laying the slate back on his desk, there’s that.

As he thought back to that moment, James couldn’t account for why he hadn’t whooped with joy for his friend. Nor could he account for the sickening twisting feeling that had been growing in his chest over the last day.

James kicked a small rock, sending it careening into the stream where it landed with a satisfying plonk.

Of course Sirius would be the first. He was the oldest, even if only by five months. He also always seemed to be the one breaking new territory in their little group. Sirius was the first to get told off by McGonagall. He was also the first to discover how to get into the Hogwarts kitchens.

Now that James’s mind was on the topic of kitchens, he thought of the pasties Figgy was baking when he’d left that morning. They’d be golden and flaky now. Perhaps it was just hunger twisting his guts. With his broom over his shoulder, he turned to climb back towards home.

But Sirius isn’t always the first in everything, a bitter voice piped in from the back of James’s mind, ploughing over his theory that he was just hungry and not actually upset.

I’m not upset.

Still, James couldn’t help but search through his memory to recall times that he’d been the first to achieve a milestone. There was the first time he got detention...only Sirius had been there as well. James had been the first to be asked to Hogsmeade by a girl. Though even then, James wasn’t clear on whether that point would go to him or Sirius. It had been a very confusing affair. Elspeth Fitzgerald, one of the most popular girls in their year, asked James out, and then asked if Sirius would take out her friend Tamsin, too. Or maybe Elspeth was asking James to ask Sirius to ask Tamsin out, and James came along as the bonus date. He couldn’t be sure. Girls were confusing like that. Either way, James was definitely the first one to properly snog a girl. He remembers that clearly, because as Elspeth was shoving her tongue down his throat, Sirius was trying to get Tamsin to stop crying her bloody head off.

Of course, James conceded, his one time snogging session was not exactly the model of success. Sirius at least had a few follow up dates with Tamsin, and there were rumors all last year that they’d still occasionally snog. Elspeth and James produced about as much heat as a Chinese Fireball with a sore throat.

You were the first to make a house quidditch team, a defiant voice added.

That was right. James was the first, not just his friends, but of his whole bloody year to make a house Quidditch team. He made reserves for Gryffindor his second year and was a proper Chaser in his third. This year was supposed to be his biggest triumph yet. When his school list arrived earlier in the summer, James was honestly surprised to see the gold captain’s badge tumble out of the envelope. Quidditch captain! James could not think of a time when a fifth year had made captain. Even his father had never heard of it. And the Gryffindor team was an older team. There were several sixth and seventh year players who would have been just as deserving, maybe even more, but McGongall chose James.

He hadn’t even mentioned it to his friends yet. He reasoned that, surely, his good friend Moony would also be named prefect that summer. Moony never really got his fair amount of time in the spotlight, given how brilliant he was, so James was happy to sit on his own news until closer to school. He was planning on telling his friends this next week, when the three of them joined James and his father for their annual end-of-summer camping trip on the moors. Sirius’s latest news totally derailed that plan. With topics like shagging on offer, no one would want to talk about silly old Quidditch.

Is that why it bothers me? Because Sirius is going to be the center of attention? James asked himself, feeling a bit unsettled. He finally reached the edge of the woods, pausing to look out onto the grassy clearing that led up to his home. James stood there and tried to probe his own mind, his own feelings. Yes, he liked attention, but what fifteen year old boy didn’t? Did he like it enough to begrudge his friends their own turns in the sun?

Absolutely not, rebutted a vehement voice inside his head.

He was just thinking about how he’d given Moony the whole summer to enjoy the attention of being a newly minted prefect. And Sirius? James and Sirius were even better friends, brothers even. James didn’t resent Sirius because he’d gotten laid. That was ridiculous.

So why does it bother you?

James thought that over as he looked out on vista stretching out from his family’s land. In the distance, exposed rocks jutted out from the valley’s cresting hillside. A great pile of boulders on the farthest tor gleamed rosy pink as the sun sat low on the horizon. He really was fine with the fact that Sirius had been the first to lose his virginity. It was better really, James argued, that way Sirius could tell James what he had learned, and then James would have a better shot of not mucking things up his own first time. Though James supposed for that to happen, he would actually have to sit down with Sirius and talk about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be explained in a letter.

Or on a slate, a nasty voice snorted.

As James turned as made his was towards the house, he was suddenly furious with that stupid little slate. As if all his friends needed all the same information at the exact same time. It was a ridiculous thought to have made them. Probably just Peter’s attempt to feel more included…

Stop that right now, James Potter, he chided himself.

This wasn’t about Peter (and his Gemino charm really was inspired). It wasn’t Pete’s fault James was feeling this way. It wasn’t even Sirius’s fault, James reasoned. Neither of them were responsible for his feelings. It was his own stupid feelings. They were just being unreasonable and running amok and making James feel ridiculous and hurt because Sirius didn’t tell James first.

There it is, James thought, as a bit of tension slowly eased in his chest. He was upset because Sirius didn’t write to him specifically. James and Sirius were not better than their friends, but they were better friends. For all their bravado and performed nonchalance, there was a level of honesty that James and Sirius shared, a closeness. And Sirius let James find out this really big news alongside everyone else, like he was just anyone else. That action did not feel particularly brotherly.

That still left the matter of James feeling ridiculous. He knew, logically, that Sirius progressing did not mean that James was regressing, but it still felt that way. As if Sirius’s new maturity made James by comparison more juvenile. James tried to reassure himself that Peter and Remus would be in the same boat, but even as that thought crossed his mind he questioned its veracity. Though, at the end of last term, Peter had developed a rather determined fixation on breasts. Size, shape, who had them, who didn’t, whose were the best in their year, whose were the best in Britain: Peter had an opinion about all of it. James thought he was taking things a little far, but maybe he’d just reached a maturity point that James had not. And while Remus did not talk about girls or snogging the same way the other lads in their year did but maybe that was a sign also a sign of maturity -- a sign he was even more mature than Peter’s mature. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a seventh year Gryffindor James thought was a cert for the captain’s badge, never prattled on about all the girls he dated. And he’d dated a lot. James worried that he might have been the only boy at school who spent more of the summer thinking about Quidditch than sex.

When James reached the house, he pushed the heavy wood front door open and walked through. The great hall of Hartscombe Hall featured dark wood-paneling that stretched three-quarters of the way up the grey stone walls studded with mullioned windows. There was a fireplace large enough that James could still stand comfortable inside it that stood facing a long wood table.

James stopped short. What his family's great hall did not usually feature was another attractive and black-haired teenage boy sitting at the end of said table. The very same black-haired teenage boy whose actions had sent James’s mind on a discontented tailspin.

“Sirius?” James inquired, as though there was a possibility his eyes were making a fool of him, too.

Sirius smiled warmly, jumping up from the table and throwing his arms around James.. He brushed the long fringe of his sleek black hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. Sirius wore torn up denim trousers with silver pins running through the sides and a stiff leather jacket. James did not doubt that this was some new and absurd muggle fashion fad.

“Sorry for the surprise. I know you weren’t expecting me until tomorrow.”

“Mum and dad will be thrilled to see you, of course.” James said, as he released his friend from the warm embrace, feeling even sillier than he had before. “I’m chuffed too, of course, I mean obviously, but why are you here early?”

Sirius’s mood immediately darkened. “Too much Black family bonding.”

Sirius pulled out his wand and flicked it towards the massive steamer trunk he had brought. Evidently, he was all set to leave for Hogwarts directly from their camping trip. James took the cue, slinging his broom over his shoulder and motioning for Sirius to follow him up the front stairs.

“Was it worse than at Easter?” James asked, referring to the epic row Sirius had with his parents over his choice of friends earlier that year.

“Much,” Sirius said as he clomped up the stairs in his great black boots. “One of my idiot cousins is getting married, and Walburga let their whole family use Grimmauld Place as their London pied-a-terre. Apparently you can’t buy dresses in the country or some such nonsense! Parties and teas and a hen-do. It was a nightmare.”

After dropping off Sirius luggage in his designated guest room on the first floor, the boys continued on to James’s room with Sirius. Before Hogwarts, James’s room was on the first floor as well. A sprawling nursery that had its own playroom and connected to his nanny’s accommodations. Being older now, he’d moved himself up to the spacious second floor which had never been used by the main tenants. James loved the unpolished look of it. His bedroom, a converter storeroom, stretched along the end of the west wing. Old raw wood planks jutted out of the white plaster walls and arched up to meet along a central beam in the middle. James thought of it as the house’s ribcage, it’s structure laid bare.

The design scheme, if it could be so generously called, of James’s room was mercurial. The walls were covered, predictably, with banners in the bright Gryffindor colors and drab Puddlemere brown, as well as a moving poster of all the Quidditch players of the last quarter century that James admired. He pilfered his favorite things from other guest rooms in the house to create a chaotic melange of furniture. He had a massive mahogany four poster bed that required a shrinking charm to get through the doorway. To this he added long bookshelves, a heavy armoire, mismatched couches, a dart board, and even a muggle table-football table. Of all these things, James was proudest of his desk. He assembled it himself by plopping an old barn door on top of empty whiskey casks. They still filled his room with the comforting smell of peat.

Sirius walked towards said desk still nattering on about the absurdity of wedding textiles. “Honestly,” he whinged, “I didn’t even know there were different kinds of lace. Since when do fabrics have sub-fabrics.”

“It’s completely ludicrous,” James agreed. “Hopefully, this week will make up for it. Just the lads, walking all day and sitting by a fire all night, I can almost guarantee no one will be talking about textiles.”

“You saw it,” Sirius said flatly.

“What?” James started, confused by the non sequitur. He turned to see Sirius looking down at the desk. Not at the desk, at what was on the desk. James had left his slate tablet out.

“Er-- yeah,” James said in a hearty voice not wholly his own, “Congratulations, or you know, good on you!”

Sirius laughed just once. It was a hollow, quiet sound. Time droned on and the distance between the two boys stretched with it. Sirius traced his hands across the edge of the tablet as he stared out the window over the desk. In addition to Sirius’s initial pronouncement, the tablet now included a loopy scrawl from Peter asking for more details, and in his untidy scratch Moony inscrutably asked, on behalf of a Mr. Kipling, whether Sirius had indeed run a full sixty seconds worth of distance. James felt unsettled. He knew he needed to say something to end this quiet but conjuring any actual words felt beyond his current abilities.

“D’ya mind?” Sirius asked without turning to look at James. He just held a gold pack of rolled muggle cigarettes above his shoulder.

“Go for it.”

Sirius leaned forward to open the window. James heard the familiar clack and swoosh of a lighter. As Sirius exhaled, James watched his shoulders slump forward, as if the expelled smoke had taken all of Sirius’s swagger with it.

“So, who was the girl?” James asked, breaking the silence. “You didn’t mention dating anyone in your last letter.”

“Well,” Sirius said as he turned, softening his stance and leaning back on the desk. “That could be because I don’t know if we were dating, not really…”

“How’d you meet? Is she a friend of your cousins?”

“Merlin, no!” Sirius sneered. “Though I suppose, I have them to thank for meeting her. Like I said, summer was a misery. Bella and Narcissa practically moved in. And Bella’s completely lost the plot. She’s marrying a Lestrange, but you’d never know it. All she talks about is Voldemort and how he’s bringing pride back to Britain. It’s fucking disgusting. I spent as much time as I could out of the house.”

“You said you were riding alone most days on the Get-A-Round…” James said, quoting from one of Sirius’s early letters.

“The Underground,” Sirius corrected.

James shrugged. He wasn’t taking Muggle Studies, so he’d really never need to know the name of the mad contraption that transports people underneath the streets. Merlin knows he'd never ride on it.

“Anyway,” Sirius continued, “I was riding around a lot at the start, but there’s only so many times you can go around the Circle line. Tried hanging around Diagon Alley for a bit, but it was just more of the same. I ended up just exploring. Few weeks ago, I was wandering around Chelsea. I stumbled into this clothing store on the King’s Road and that’s where I met Cyan--”

“Cyan?!” James interrupted.

“Well, it’s Sarah, really. But she dyed the ends of her hair blue, and she was trying to get everyone to call her Cyan.”

“Fair enough,” James said, “I guess, wizards aren’t really in a position to judge someone’s name. We have some pretty weird ones...”

“Hengeist,” Sirius

“Adalbert.”

“Sawbridge.”

“Wilburforce.” James looked at Sirius to discover they were both, finally, smiling at the same time.

“Well, anyway, I just started going to King’s Road on the days she worked. We’d chat and then meet up after her shift ended. Usually just for coffee, but then, well a couple days ago she invited me over to hers to listen to a new record… and well. You already know how that went.”

James did know, and he nodded sagely at the tablet. For all of James’s mental griping over that stupid note and the frustration it caused, he couldn’t help but be intensely curious about the whole affair. Did she just proposition him out of the blue? Or, were there steps leading up to it? Did he bring wine and candles? James heard a rumor that girls liked for there to be candles.

“You know, I don’t really know why I did this.” Sirius said, tapping the slate tablet quickly with the cherry tip of his cigarette. “I guess... the whole affair just felt like it needed a cap off, you know? A full stop. An exclamation point. Some sort of definite conclusion.”

“Hmm,” James mused, not entirely sure of Sirius’s meaning. “I mean. Did it not… did you not… erm… conclude?”

“That’s not….” Sirius started. He held the cigarette gently between his teeth as he stretched both his arms, clasping them behind his back and puffing out his chest. “It’s like yes. You have sex. And sex on one hand is just sex. Just a physical thing, mechanical even. And I know that. Logically, unemotionally, I know that’s true. I guess I just thought, with the way people go on about it… I guess I just thought there’d be something… more.”

“More than sex?”

“More than just the physical bits...yeah,” Sirius leaned over James’s desk and stretched his arm out the window, tapping the ash off the cigarette. “I just expected to feel something more afterwards. But I was just tired… and slightly sticky.”

James shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. He did not know how to answer Sirius as he had no analogous experiences to share. He supposed that, he too, approached the idea of sex at different levels. There was the fantastical element that he would often indulge in before falling asleep at night. In that realm, there was nothing to fear. Then there was the practicality of it. The fact that he didn’t actually know what to do or how to make it okay for the girl. That was terrifying. When he thought of a hypothetical first time it was just as something to get done.

“You could say something,” Sirius muttered.

“I guess, I just don’t know what to say,” James said honestly.

Sirius turned away to stare out the window again.

“I think that’s why I wrote to you all. There was this big thing that happened, and then I just went home and everything was still as it was. So banal. I sat next to Reg at the dinner table and ate mushy peas. It was like it didn’t even happen.” Sirius got very quiet and looked away from James. In a small voice he said, “Does that make me sound like a nancy?”

“What?” James asked. Until that moment, it really had not occurred to him that Sirius would be feeling anything other than elated and slightly smug. Looking at his best friend now, shoulders slumped, hair falling in his face, and staring determinedly at the tip of the cigarette as if making eye contact with anything else would physically hurt, it was clear Sirius was feeling anything but.

“Mate, no!,” James assured him. “Not at all. It’s supposed to be a very big deal. If it weren’t, we all wouldn’t go around talking about it all the time. And, like, look at what Pete and Remus wrote… okay not so much Remus, but he never makes sense anyway. You know Pete lost his mind over it. You know he won't rest until you give him a moment by moment account and draw him a topographical map of her tits.”

Sirius chuckled, and finally brought his eyes up to meet James’s. “‘S’pose we will all have to deal with that. Pete may be the first student to pursue ‘History of Breasts’ at the NEWT level.”

“He’s a trailblazer.”

“Icon.”

“Legend, really.” James laughed and sidled over next to Sirius, perching up on the text beside him. “Feeling better, then?”

“A bit, thanks. Just wish you’d been there--”

James’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead.

“No! Not, there there,” Sirius explained with a chuckle. “Just afterwards, back at the house. I just never thought I’d go out, shag someone for the first time, then come home at three in the afternoon to see my cousins playing dress-up in the living room. It was too bizarre.”

“I ‘spect all the really big events in life are like that. Stranger and way more awkward than you imagined. We’re all just stumbling our way through life.”

Sirius pulled a face of mock shock and clutched at his chest. “What? No! Not even the great James Potter!?”

“Especially the great James Potter,” James insisted, throwing an elbow at Sirius’s ribs for good measure. “You missed a spectacular faceplant this morning after I ran into a hoar oak on my new racing broom. KAPOW- and the SPLAT! Broom went one way, I went the other…”

“Yeah, well, you’re too pretty anyway. Would do your face some good to bang it up. Let’s see this new broom!”

Sirius tossed the remnants of his cigarette out the window and walked towards the broom lying on James’s bed. He picked it up by its glistening handle, flipping it on end to observe the finely trimmed twigs in the tail.

“Pheeeeew,” Sirius whistled low. “That! Is a damn fine broom, my good man. What’d you do? Manage to intercept all of Minnie’s letters home last year or did you catch Monty snogging Figgy.”

“Gross, Sirius!” James laughed, “Neither. Actually--”

James scurried over to the nightstand next to his best and retrieved his captain’s badge from the uppermost drawer. He was so excited to finally show it to someone other than Figgy and his parents, he could not even find the words. Rather, he simply thrust the golden badge engraved with a large “C” into his best friend's hands.

It took Sirius a moment, though no more than a moment to realize what he was looking at. Joy overtook his whole expression, as his eyes shone and he smiled brightly.

“YES!” Sirius roared, raising a fist in the arm. “WE’VE DONE IT! Sweet Merlin! YES!”

He grabbed James and pulled him into another hug, patting him on the back for good measure. James’s heart leapt in his chest at seeing his friend's joy.

Sirius was laughing as he stood back and examined the badge closely.

“It’s not a fake,” James said, “Letter had my name on it and everything.”

“That’s not what I’m-- do you see this? What does that says?” Sirius asked, holding the badge up to James face.

James squinted through his glasses. He did not see anything in the area Sirius was indicated. Only a brightly polished, immaculate gold surface.

“It doesn’t say anything there, mate.”

“Yes it does,” Sirius insisted. “Right there. It says ‘I’m better than Shacklebolt”

James shoved Sirius playfully, but Sirius just held the badge higher as he insisted that his best friend would be the best Quidditch Captain Hogwarts had ever seen. From James’s heart burst forth a wellspring of gratitude and joy. Being an idiot wasn’t so bad, he thought, as long as your friends were idiots, too.

#marauders era #james potter #sirius black

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tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

Note

Hey so how does it feel to carry the entire Levihan fandom on your back? I absolutely love all your stories! I always look forward to when you update! I had an idea for a fic but I haven't seen anyone do it. Where past levi wakes ups ( when he only sees hange as a friend) in the future to find that he's happily married to hange or living domestically with her and just contemplates his feelings for her

Title: Unwritten

Summary:

“Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she creates really quality works is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the direction, to the design and just the overall production… And she knows how to do it. When I watch her movies, it feels like they're peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“What makes Hange Zoe's writing special are those in betweens. The unwritten parts... if you know what I mean?"

Levi is assigned to work with screenwriter Hange Zoe and he is left constantly wondering why the hell she's taking her work so seriously.

Link: AO3

Note: I conceptualized this long fic after looking through a some of the prompts in my inbox and playing with them.. TYSM to everyone who sent those. I won't be dropping all the prompts I used when making this now because it might end up spoiling the fic as a whole but I will be dropping the prompts with every chapter I updated.

This fic doesn't actually follow any prompt strictly, I twisted the prompts around them, tore them apart, put them together so they might seem unrecognizable for some.

Either way, I'm very grateful to readers who are sending me prompts. It keeps me writing and brainstorming even when life gets terribly busy.

So thank you for them :D. I'm trying to get back to posting my writing more regularly again and this fic has been sitting in my folder for a while, I was just a little nervous to post it. Thanks to itShailaAM for looking through it!

If neither of us remember anything… Then it’s like it never happened right?

The voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic. It had a unique way of twisting at his gut, spidering up his spine then leaving an almost painful pang in his chest.

Despite the overwhelming sensations, Levi found himself still able to take control.

So he reached out.

Then he was chasing after her again.

Chasing… He then wondered. How long had he been chasing? How long had he been awake?

With the first light of morning, whatever message, whatever meaning he could have made up for himself dissipated.

Or maybe it was never there to begin with.

For the first time in years or even decades, Levi was wasting his early morning window before work. He wasn’t doing much of anything but staring up at the white ceiling in some feeble attempt to make sense of it again. He came up empty save for two things: a faint throbbing in his head and a half hearted conclusion that maybe it really was just some fevered dream.

“Good morning!" Someone was right next to him. Her voice was higher, more mellow. A hairs breadth away from his ear though, it grated.

Levi narrowed his eyes and the blur cleared somewhat. “Petra?” He heard himself speak. He was in an unfamiliar in-between, completely in control of himself, yet strangely disconnected. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Petra put one hand on the back of her head and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about barging in like this…” She didn’t have to apologize. They were childhood friends and with all the family gatherings they had spent together growing up, they were more than comfortable just flitting in and out of each other’s apartments.

Levi didn’t respond. There were more important things to think about like the slow and almost painful process of sitting up. That morning, he was a little more careful than usual.

“Your mom told me to check on you.” Petra continued.

“Typical,” he muttered coldly. He turned towards the window, and took in the view of the blue sky, a few stories above ground. It should calm him if he stared at it long enough. “She always overreacts,” he added. At that point, the crankiness had started to subside and Levi realized he didn’t mind the doting too much. His mother had always been like that anyway. Growing up, a sprained ankle or an animal bite from a family pet had always been enough for Kuchel to insist on a visit to the doctor.

Petra let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t blame her though. Since the accident, she’s been asking about you every...”

Everyday. Levi completed it for her. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother had asked about him every hour. “She can always ask me directly,” he said out loud before Petra could finish. He didn’t feel too bad about interrupting. Petra had been speaking particularly slowly since a while ago and if he let her speak like that for any longer, they might not get anything done.

As if she had read his mind or at least noticed the impatience, she immediately gathered herself. “You always downplay it,” she said, more clearly this time.

“She always exaggerates it.”

“That accident was pretty bad though.” Petra cocked her head to the side. “I’m sure you understand that, right?”

Levi averted his gaze for a brief second. He couldn’t deny that part. That accident had apparently been bad enough to merit a month long hospital stay, bad enough for Levi to not remember much of it aside from the phantom pains in his chest, And bad enough to take the brunt of the pain and the inconvenience of dealing with the symptomatic disorientation, the fatigue and the begrudging need for some support.

A few seconds of reflection later, Levi concluded maybe there was good reason for that overreaction. “But I can take care of myself.”

Ironically, his body chose that moment to teeter.

“Hey, you okay?” Petra put one warm hand on his shoulder. “You think you can make it to work today?”

The throbbing at the back of his head had dulled to a bearable ache but he could have sworn it had been worse in the hospital. “I don’t have enough leaves,” he said. He focused for a while longer on Petra’s eyes and saw reason.

Maybe I can take a longer break?

His body was probably silently begging for more leaves. On the contrary, another part of him had been yearning for normalcy for a while. Practicality had been the deciding factor. Although Levi had more than enough leaves, did he have more than he would have been comfortable giving up? Maybe not. He wouldn’t take it anyway. He had more than enough strength to push himself out of bed and pad lightly to the bathroom.

Unwillingly or willingly? He was too tired to tell.

“You were in the hospital just a week ago.” Petra was a voice of reason or a voice of temptation.

“I can’t take any more leaves,” Levi repeated again, as if saying it louder somehow made it more convincing. He made his way to his closet, keeping his strides purposeful, partially for himself, partially for her.

Even for a long time friend, Petra had always been shy and conservative. As soon as Levi motioned to pull his shirt up, she rushed out of the room in some characteristic gesture of modesty.

His bedroom door closed with a click and Levi started to slip his clothes off much faster. His head continued to throb. There was a strange ringing in his ears and the room was a little drafty, typical for early spring.

Levi didn’t have the mind space to prepare for that brush with icy wind. Fucking hell. Discomfort then the desperation that followed had him considering calling in sick again.

After using up three week’s worth though, vacation leaves were starting to feel more like a scam than an actual benefit of the job. He ran through the motions of his typical morning routine. Or at least, what had been typical a month ago. Since the accident, he hadn’t worn anything but loose shirts, pajamas and hospital gowns. Back in the hospital, he had been asleep a lot of that time.

He pulled his pants on, then sluggishly pulled his sweater over him, dolefully noting how snug fitting clothing seemed like strangers to his skin.

He didn’t feel like the same person anymore.

It looked like Petra did notice something was different. Over breakfast, she had pushed the plates closer to him. She did the honors of pouring the scrambled eggs onto his plate, then placing a loaf of bread right next to him. “Eat, we have a long day ahead.”

Levi mumbled something that could have been a ‘thanks’ or a ‘yes.’ He didn’t think too far about it either. There were more pressing things to deal with, like internally psyching himself up for his first day back at work and finding routine once again in the recovery process.

For a few minutes after, the two were silent in the small kitchen save for the sound of chewing and the sound of cutlery clacking on the plate.

“Hey Levi,” Petra hesitantly broke the silence. “You really don't remember what happened?” She had asked that question countless times before, back at the hospital, on his first day back at home and every single time she paid a visit.

He chalked it up to worry. In some semblance of a response, Levi downed the bread in his mouth in one painful gulp, then took a sip of tea. “I remember waking up in the hospital.”

“Before that.”

Levi dropped the half eaten bread on the plate and stared straight up at the ceiling for a second. “Leaving work,” he answered. It was too vague of an answer and Petra didn't seem satisfied.

Of course she wouldn’t be satisfied. He always walked the same route home and routine wouldn’t give too much of an answer to the question of how the hell more than a month ago, he had ended up with a severe concussion and a few contusions in the hospital emergency room, a few towns away from his own.

Past was past though. There was no use digging into it. At present, he had medical bills to pay and a career to salvage. No time for a personal investigation. He attempted to digress. “What did I miss?” Levi asked. “At work?” He noted Petra’s very disconcerting expression, a combination of pity and uncertainty. It was starting to get annoying.

Petra furrowed her brows, a little more hesitant to speak that time. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about...”

In protest, Levi put the bread down and stared at Petra, his stone cold expression unwavering. He wouldn’t be eating unless Petra continued. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

A few minutes of silence later and it seemed to work. Petra looked down at the bread then up at him. Whatever was plaguing her mind then had taken some control over her. “A lot has changed since the accident,” she started.

“With work?” Levi asked again. He dropped the bread on the plate, deliberately allowing the clatter, as if the loud jarring sound would be enough to drive away the disbelief. Three weeks or fifteen business days wasn’t supposed to be a long time taking into account the speed of office bureaucracy.

Petra nodded, a wry smile on her face. Her expression, her demeanor gave the uncertainty away before she spoke of it. “You’re probably going to have to talk to Mr. Zackley about it…”

Levi’s mind was racing. Despite the throbbing, Levi had managed to fill in the blanks for himself. Even before Petra expounded on it, Levi had started to accept already, going back to work was probably not going to be such an easy ride.

Being gone for weeks had done a number to his job.

Three weeks to be exact. It was just three weeks, fifteen business days. Despite Petra’s apparent discomfort, her incessant warnings not to ‘expect,’ Levi had expected some semblance of normalcy. When his hopes were dashed, Levi felt like he had been body slammed out of nowhere by an oncoming train.

“I’ve been working on their set for years…Since the pilot episode, ” Levi said slowly. Hell, since even before the pilot episode if you consider the preproduction stage. He didn’t want it to seem at all like it was an argument and he subdued his tone to something lighter, with the intention of reminding himself not to talk back at authority.

“And we’ve transferred you,” General Manager Darius Zackley said matter-of-factly. “Underground City has been garnering a lot of attention lately and we couldn’t afford to be undermanned at such a crucial point of production.”

“But was it necessary to transfer me?”

Mr. Zackley’s expression softened. He didn't have a natural expression that demanded authority but he made up for it with reason. “It’s a primetime show,” he explained. “One of our best, and given the uncertainty regarding your accident…” For some reason, he had hesitated at that word. “We couldn’t take a gamble. We had you immediately replaced after the first week.”

“And?” At face value, the new developments were starting to seem terribly, terribly disappointing. “I can still work there.” Levi was perfectly aware of where the conversation was going. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.

Mr. Zackley was surprisingly patient. “It’s not an issue of you not fitting in. But we want to properly and more efficiently distribute our labor. The production of Underground City is currently…” He cleared his throat. “Oversaturated.”

Oversaturated with budget, resources. Underground City was a crime and mystery drama, one of their more high budget productions. Levi wasn’t too surprised at that piece of information, having worked closely with the producers and the writers since the pilot.

With a boss a few reporting levels above his own though, Levi couldn’t do much but listen quietly. Disappointment and uncertainty loomed over him and he was tiring more quickly.

“We’ve made some arrangements, set you up with a new role.” Mr. Zackley was taking his sweet time, his painfully sweet time.

At the butt end of Mr. Zackley’s whims, Levi was a mess. He racked his brain for all possible outcomes of the ‘arrangements’, a painful process, hampered by the weight of too many possibilities. They were a medium sized network that produced most of their own TV shows on top of news coverage and documentaries, still too many for Levi to have cared enough about to count.

At that moment, he was determined to make up for lost time. Naturally, his mind first flew to the more well known productions, those that had been receiving the best ratings in prime time TV since he had started working there.

Underground City. Military Police.

Working at the set of the crime drama ‘Underground City’ had been a good run for Levi, one he would have liked to continue but Mr. Zackley said so himself, they replaced him. ‘Military Police,’ one of their more popular historical war dramas, also received one of the bigger chunks of their budget. With Zackley’s very sullen expression, it looked like he wasn’t at all there to give Levi a promotion.

He didn’t really mind not working on the ‘Military Police’ set anyway. Everyone there seemed like a lazy prick and that long running drama had always seemed overrated to him. What else would be waiting for him though? “To where?” Levi pressed.

The old man hummed for a second, leaned forward on his seat. “I talked to Erwin about this and we have an opening in one of our daytime shows.”

“Erwin?” Levi repeated. The name was more than just familiar and he allowed himself a brief moment to recall. Erwin Smith. One of the more prominent in-house directors. Just digging deep into his mind, riling up whatever was causing the headache in the first place. He sat still and waited for it to subside again.

Then he wondered if it had been physical or just an emotional reaction to the mess he found himself in. He was barely recovering, he was plunged into a new position and he was confused, utterly confused.

“Consider it a temporary position until something else opens up,” Mr. Zackley added. “Given that you just got back from the hospital, it would be better if you started small.” He shot Levi a placating look. “Either way, this is a good opportunity for you, Ackerman…” It didn’t seem so genuine. “To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.”

Zackley spoke for an eternity longer after that but it had done nothing to make the transfer any better.

Levi had been working with that same hustle and bustle for years and he was confident, a three week break at the height of production wouldn’t have been enough to throw him--- hell, most people off completely.

But he was being treated like some invalid. Zackley’s warm words yet his uninviting demeanor sent some alarm bells ringing inside Levi.Mr. Zackley was overly consoling, overly placating and Levi’s mind was racing.

Levi took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, willing himself to relax and focus on the present. Whatever the catch was, he’d find out soon anyway.

To ease you back into the hustle and bustle of working in TV production.

What a magnificent fucking lie.

“Start small my ass.” With the stress just piling up and his body barely catching up, Levi was tempted to let it out as anything louder, accompanying it with the very dramatic motion of dropping the paper work on the floor and relishing the loud thud. He imagined scattering the pages on the table, spilling them onto the floor and maybe kicking them out onto some curb.

Then he brushed off that mental image completely.

That would only create an unnecessary mess, maybe even cause a scene in that small cafe. Although his life seemed like it was complete chaos, his fastidious side wouldn’t have allowed him to make it any more worse. Then and there, he deemed it the best option to just take a sip of his tea, allow it to warm him up slowly and create a comfortable distraction, somewhere convenient.

A minute or so later, Levi accepted, tea didn’t do too good of a job. After all, what could tea do, aside from supporting him through the long and painful two days of ‘adjustment’ and the journey to the very frustrating conclusion that the general manager of the studio, Mr. Zackley was too out of touch with the struggles of the average worker.

“Just for long enough to get back to the hustle and bustle of TV production? What a fucking liar,” Levi muttered again. He dropped the tea cup on the saucer with a clank.

“Well, technically you are starting small,” Petra said. “They don’t expect too much quality wise from a soap opera on a day time slot.” She flipped through the pages of scripts and the storyboards that formed an overwhelmingly thick pile of papers on the coffee table.

It wasn’t too thick. Levi stared for a while longer and he decided it was a manageable pile of documents. The soft copies on his laptop were also of a countable number.

The deadline to be completely functional in two days though wasn’t as reasonable.

In search of some semblance of a break, Levi shifted his gaze towards Petra.

Her familiar presence had made the job change bearable. A half hearted response with her attention mostly channelled towards the piles of scripts had still been enough to have Levi more at home in the middle of the coffee shop in the late afternoon. “You didn’t even need to transfer,” Levi said. The indignance and the bitterness of a while ago seemed to be mellowing into something almost sweet.

Petra turned a beet red and she put her hands up in defense. “No no… I wanted to. Besides, this type of set is always in need of more people.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in response. Soap opera sets? Or maybe just daytime soap operas in general. Or maybe just that particular soap opera set. He turned back to the pile of papers on the table then back to his laptop.

The pile of papers on the table was the script for that month alone. The folders in the USB were eight seasons worth of soap opera scripts and episodes. Levi was once again reminded why such a project could have been so undersaturated.

Scratch that, he had never forgotten and he didn’t think he would ever forget anyway.

The script for just that month was much larger than the piles Levi worked with at his previous production. By the second day, he was starting to conclude, working with daytime soap operas was turning out to be a grind, a seemingly thankless grind.

Soap operas ran with the expectation of producing five episodes a week with a shoestring budget. The pressing deadlines and just the amount of content that had to be produced meant vacations and holidays were few and far in between for the average employee. And the unreasonable demands usually meant that quality would naturally suffer.

Since he started assimilating into his job, he also started to wonder. What audience were they even producing soaps for in that day and age?

“Do you think you’ll even enjoy this?” Levi challenged.

“It’s too early to tell,” Petra said.

Levi didn’t want to admit it then, but he was convinced that she would even find a way to enjoy it. The question should have been for him. He was the one who could barely even get past the first page of the script.

Petra flashed him a knowing smile, flipping the pages a little faster. She wasn’t reading them and all attention was on Levi.

Her face could have been asking questions. Or Levi could have been projecting. He repeated the question to himself. What now? More specifically, what was he supposed to do?

Then he answered it. Get used to it? Or maybe just accept it as a job. The grind would eventually get less painful he was sure. But would he ever see the beauty in it?

Levi had never taken the time to watch that particular soap opera but he had seen too many in passing to know what he would be working with.

The stories didn’t make fucking sense. The sets were cheaply made. The lights, the cameras and the resources for special effects were far from what he was given when he was still working with the twenty-one-episodes-a-season, one-season-a-year ‘Underground City.”

According to Erwin, they just didn’t have the budget. Besides, the average viewer didn’t expect much else anyway from a soap opera.

Either way, he was still hired as the cinematographer. This is still your job. Levi took a deep breath then exhaled with a soft huff. First things first, he had to familiarize himself with ten to fifty episodes worth of scripts. That night, he would be watching the blocking, the lighting, the editing, the overall production.

That was the job of the fucking cinematographer anyway. Erwin had warned him though, they were severely undermanned in all facets of production, pre production, production proper and post production. And for shows that aired multiple times a week, that meant, the grind wouldn't end.

So he wouldn’t just be the cinematographer.

At the impending workload that followed his orientation phase, Levi closed his eyes tight. For a second there, his mind flew to other opportunities and just the process of editing his CV and applying elsewhere.

Maybe in a year he would reapply, or maybe even in months.

He wondered if Petra was thinking the same thing. If she were, she didn’t make it obvious. Petra enjoyed the production process just as much as he did and she had been the reason he had found a job there in the first place.

“Welcome back to the working world.” Petra chuckled.

Levi blinked back the surprise in his eyes as he was once again pulled back to reality. Admittedly, he was overwhelmed. The weak throbbing returned and after spending too many hours insisting to Petra that he was ready to go back to work, he didn’t think it right to take a break.

He sipped his tea and deemed that a quick break.

“God I miss our tea times,” Petra said, looking pointedly at Levi's tea caup. She flipped the script over and pulled her teacup towards her.

Levi noted the wistful expression on Petra’s face. “I was only out for a month,”

Petra shook her head. “But for a week or so, we thought you wouldn’t make it.” There was a subtle crack, not too noticeable if Levi hadn’t tensed up and watched her closely.

It was bringing up too many unwelcome emotions at once, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a haze of memories aggravated the throbbing in his head.

Levi turned back to the pile of papers. With the amount of work to do, he would never have the time to ponder what happened anyway. In an attempt at digression, he pulled the script towards him, and started to flip the pages, poring over words yet only taking in half of it.

A very boring half.

Eventually, he gave up. “Let’s go back home. We’re not getting anything done here.” He gathered the pages, and meticulously returned them to each envelope.

He was supposed to be reviewing the scripts to get some idea on how the TV show worked. They had chosen to work in the cafe to escape from the bustle of the sets and attempt some productivity. Yet, they had been in the cafe for a few hours already and he still didn’t remember what the story had been about in the first place.

Soap operas didn’t have logical plots anyway. Levi thought to himself. Maybe just accepting could make his work feel more unbearable. He watched as Petra gathered the pages on her end, stuffed them into her bag.

“Sorry, I thought you would have wanted tea. You always liked this place…” Petra was explaining herself. The not-so-eloquent way at which she did it was a distraction. In fact, everything at that point was either a distraction or even irritating. Levi took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the throbbing take control for a second.

One step at a time. Levi slung his bag over his shoulder. “The tea was good,” he said, more for her than himself. That was a lie. In fact, the tea tasted underwhelming. Tea usually didn’t disappoint though and Levi was starting to suspect the fault was in him. “Just give me some time to get used to life again,” he added, his tone more apologetic that time.

A few seconds or even minutes of reflection later and Levi had to admit, he felt like he really had changed during that break.

Cinematography is visual storytelling. Or so, that was what he had been taught when he started working with TV shows years ago.

When there was no story he could follow, there was no essence or heart to portray. So, Levi naturally approached it like a cold hard science. The hard copies on folders lay abandoned on the coffee table. His laptop remained unopened.

Levi's attention was trained on the big screen. He had silently been sprawled on the sofa since they arrived back to his apartment hours ago. Bundled up in a sweatshirt, legs propped up on the coffee table, Levi was in that convenient trance between relaxing and analyzing.

He had no idea what the couple on the TV had been arguing about. He had no idea who had fathered the large overly tacky baby bump sticking out of the woman.

The latest episode was playing on repeat and Levi remembered two things happening in the past ten minutes. A pregnant woman entering the crappy set of their mansion, hand on her oversized belly and man looked back at her then approached her, a look of abject horror on his face. He was shouting something, obscenities maybe?

By that point, Levi’s mind started to wander with too many other passing thoughts.

The horror at finding out the protagonist was pregnant was overly exaggerated. Were baby bumps really supposed to be that big? And why did it take them that many months to figure it out? How many pregnancies did the protagonist go through? How many love interests did she have?

Then the cinematographer and the photographer in him took over.

There were more important things to look into. The camera never moved. Levi was familiar with multi camera setups and he didn’t need to think too hard about it. Most of the scenes were filmed in the house, in the office, all conveniently made sets, the conveniently written scripts were written around the shitty budget.

And the high frame rate, in tandem with the inorganic lighting, the lack of special effects and just the lack of some careful camera movement, made the overall story and the overall view, underwhelming, not at all cinematic.

The soap opera effect.

Some wouldn’t see it. Others would probably notice it but not glaringly enough to complain. Levi had worked in film for years and when he would search for the characteristic motion blur, he would immediately find it. The culmination of a simple camera set up, a few sets, a cheap camera, and with a studio and network always in some hurry to cut the budget, the soap opera effect was very apparent.

And they would be expecting the same cooperation from him in putting together a cheaply made production. On the bright side, that meant that despite having to deal with some shitty soap opera plot that didn’t make any sense, he wouldn’t have to do too much thinking with lighting, blocking and editing. Planning sets and scenes would be a light stroll in the park at best, soul suckingly monotonous at worst.

Levi reached for the remote and started to rewind, his interest suddenly piqued.

“So what do you think happened to the baby?” Petra asked. She dropped a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

Levi wasn’t in any mood to eat. More importantly, he in the mood to speculate the cheap excuse for a plot. “Am I supposed to care?” He pulled his legs close to him and leaned further on the armrest of the sofa, giving Petra more than enough space to get herself comfortable.

“Well, you’re working on the set right? Better to at least know the major plot points of what you’re working with.”

“Spoil me,” Levi said.

Petra reached for the popcorn and grabbed a handful. She turned to him, a wry smile on her face. “You really don’t even wanna try to enjoy it?”

“This is a job. ”

Petra dropped her shoulders in defeat. “Well… Hanako gets kidnapped…”

“Hanako?”

“The baby…” Petra answered, looking pointedly at him. “They literally spent an episode discussing the baby’s name.” A laugh was very much evident in her voice.

And there are a hundred episodes to sift through. “I don’t have to know the baby’s name to do my job.”

“The baby will be the main character in the next season. If you have been reading the script--- Or even just following the story...” Petra put her hands out and pointed at the TV, starting to look more exasperated by the minute.

“Okay,” Levi responded firmly, not in any mood to stomach accusations. “Then I’ll learn her name when I start working. Just tell me what I need to know to do my job. ”

Petra sighed. “When we get back on air, there will be a time skip. Then the season post time skip picks up after Hanako’s first day of college. So before that she grew up with her adopted parents who found her abandoned in a box. They went through some tough times financially and in the latest pages of the script she gets a job in a coffee shop.” She turned towards the thick envelope on the table then glanced accusingly at him. “I could have sworn you were reading through that back in the cafe.”

Levi didn’t notice it. He had only half heartedly read the script. Still, he feigned a look of interest.

“Then a lot of the writers quit,” Petra continued. “So a lot of what happened hasn't been written yet.”

Levi flashed Petra a knowing look.

Petra sighed. "Apparently, people were overworked, the job didn't pay much so a lot of the crew, cinematographer, production designers, they all left which was most likely why they put you there.”

Levi only had to look back at his first day and his second day to understand the turnover rate. He had spent a little less than an hour familiarizing himself with systems that seemed to be put into place for show. Soon after that, he was bombarded with unreasonable deadlines, timelines, responsibilities outside his actual job title and a little less than two days to sift through eight seasons worth of scripts.

“And why they easily transferred me. We're really behind now. Post production for the last few episodes should be completed this week, aired by next week.

"Then we have a hiatus at least," Levi said, repeating it with that same cold professional tone Erwin had used with him on their first day. Except he knew that was a scam too. They would be using that two week hiatus to start filing.

That reminder at least pulled Levi back into reality. He couldn’t flit mindlessly from side to side and clock it up as ‘learning the ropes’ forever. Eventually, they were going to ask him to actually know the ropes. “Erwin said something about me working with production proper and post production,” Levi mindlessly rewinded some of the scenes again. “But they can’t expect me to write the script right?”

Petra shook her head. “No, I don’t think you will,” she said. “I talked to a few of the crew. They said they were hiring a writer. A whole writing crew actually--- And you know, among them, there are rumors about a big name screenwriter.”

Levi raised one eyebrow in disbelief. “Joining the set of a daytime soap opera.”

She put her hands up in defense. “It’s just a rumor.”

“A stupid rumor. What kind of screenwriter in their right mind would want to work here?”

Petra paused for a second, deep in thought. “Fine, it might just be a rumor. Still, ask yourself, why would there be rumors circulating in the first place?"

Levi sighed. “Which screenwriter then?” he asked, mostly in an attempt to humor her. And himself. The fact that a big name screenwriter would work in soap operas, might actually make ‘soap operas’ work.

“Hange Zoe,” Petra said, a wry knowing look on her face. As if it was a name Levi was supposed to know.

“Hange Zoe?” And if he followed the same ups and downs of Petra’s tone, he could pretend it was familiar to his lips. “Hange Zoe,” he said again.

Petra nodded. “The writer of the Titan series? The final movie of `Advancing Titans’ is coming out in the fall.”

Advancing Titans. The name had seemingly come out of nowhere, especially when Levi had already run through a few possible names in his head. Hange Zoe hadn’t been one of them. Although she was a big name in the screenwriting industry for sure, the idea of Hange Zoe working with soap operas seemed almost preposterous.

“Hange Zoe…” Levi said it one more time, in surprise or in some attempt to practice saying it. “You’re seriously talking about that writer?” Levi looked to Petra for confirmation. Hange had only ever written one movie series from a completely different genre, which begged a question.“She has some experience in soap operas?”

Petra unlocked her phone, opened the browser and started typing and scrolling. “No… Just the movies…” she muttered a second later.

“Then why do you think she would suddenly want to work in a cheap ass day time soap opera?”

Petra looked back at him, a dumbfounded look in her face. “But the timing just fits too well. The final movie is about to be released. Apparently, she didn’t renew her contract with her studio. There are even rumors of her leaving the movie industry… And there were speculations and everything.”

“Retirement?” Levi suggested.

“Why retire in your thirties?” Petra said.

“Well, when you’re earning millions per script…” Levi trailed off. Thinking up an argument was too much of a tall order. He continued flipped through channels in silence and he had managed to pick out the movie ‘Advancing Titans’ by just a few seconds worth of a scene.

Speak of the devil.

But it wasn’t strange at all to come across the movies while flipping through channels. After all, Advancing Titans had become a household name over the past few years.

A person in a green cloak was flying, killing some man eating a zombie. It was a familiar scene, Even Levi, who almost prided himself in never having watched the movies, was familiar enough with the iconic movements, the colors and the insignia on the back.

The wings of freedom. How the hell that was connected to the story, Levi never watched enough to find out. Nor was he interested. Science fiction and fantasy were just never his cup of tea.

If Levi had to guess, soap operas and crime dramas shouldn’t have been big wig screenwriter Hange Zoe’s cup of tea either, especially after dedicating years of her life into a production as complex as a science fiction, dark fantasy cinematic universe..

“Do you really think Hange Zoe can actually work with low budget soap operas?” Levi asked.

Petra shrugged and Levi wondered why he had even asked her in the first place. Of course, she wouldn’t know. Still, she spoke up. “Even if the rumors were wrong and it wasn’t Hange Zoe. The important thing is they get someone to pump out scripts right? And your job anyway is to make sure everything gets filmed.”

“I guess.” Levi kept his eyes trained on the screen. The scene shifted from a forest, to the cobblestoned streets in town. A parade of miserable soldiers entered the town within the walls. The camera focused on a father, who navigated through crowds of people, zooming in one of the shorter soldiers.

Captain, I wanted to talk to you about my daughter… She wrote me a letter… She’s too young to get married.

Something about the expression of the soldier pulled Levi in. For a moment, he was frozen on his seat, completely hypnotized.

Petra’s voice tore into his trance. “That’s one of the scenes I can never forget.”

In some desperate bout of retaliation, Levi switched the channel of the TV. “Let’s watch something else.”

“Why? You okay?” Petra asked.

“I’m fine. I’d rather watch something more productive.” Levi flipped more rapidly through channels. He was tempted to just turn off the TV and call it a night.

“There’s a lot to learn from watching that,” Petra started.

"Like what?" Levi asked, his grip on the remote was still firm.

Petra opened her mouth, then closed it again. She sighed. “It's hard to explain... but remember that scene just a while ago. The father approached the captain about his daughter… She died while fighting the titans and they had to empty the cart so they lost all the bodies..."

Levi kept his eyes glued to the screen, suddenly hyper aware that there might have been a judgemental or impatient look on his face. “Go on,” Levi said, as if that could do anything to placate the discomfort already apparent in her voice.

“I guess the point I wanted to make is…” Petra still seemed far from calm. “Hange Zoe. One of the reasons why she writes really quality works apparently is because aside from writing the script, she’s very hands on with everything from the blocking, to the screenwriting and just the overall production… Which makes the storyline and the movie so gripping. When I watch it, it feels like the movie is peering into my soul or something.”

“Peering into your soul…” It was a tacky choice of words and Levi could only repeat them with some level of disbelief.

“A lot of the novelty of Hange Zoe’s writing… The parts that make it special are those in betweens. The parts she left unwritten... if you know what I mean?"

“That’s cool,” Levi responded, only barely. He switched to their local channel, to the late night reruns of the soap opera. .

“They’re good movies. I don’t think they were overrated," Petra said, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.

"I never said they weren’t good movies."

"You don't seem to want to hear about it at all."

"I'm just not interested. Besides, I'm too busy with work." That was the right moment to feign business. Levi held his phone in front of him, opened up the browser and wrote out a few familiar keywords. The movies of the titan series were all ranging from four to five star ratings. Whether it had been commended for cinematography or writing, he had been too lazy to check the more detailed reviews.

The reviews were most likely raving, sloppily made and potentially biased and Levi didn’t want to hear another synonym for ‘peers into your soul.’

His eyes were drooping, he was exhausted. Petra seemed to be ready to leave as well. But he had some space, he needed some break. And what better way to spend it than to do a little stalking? "Petra, could you send a file of the first movie? I think I might wanna watch it."

"You can stream the older ones on demand," Petra said.

Levi only had to open the menu on his TV to see the option for streaming. Right. Watching movies was starting to feel like a chore though and he was in no mood watching that night.

He didn’t say much else after that and the night ended with greetings exchanged. Petra only lived a few floors below him and it didn’t feel any different from being alone.

Before he knew it, he was half asleep already. He gave up, turned off the TV and allowed himself to doze off. When he came to his senses again, the sun was streaming through the window, and with work starting in an hour or so, he had little to no time to even start the movie.

The set was small. The budget was miniscule. The turnover rate was high.

And for projects that wanted to disguise themselves as official and corporate, it was utter chaos. One week into his job, Levi had to admit, he was reaching too widely, and he was spread out too thin.

There was a semblance of structure within his team. Petra and Eld worked with cinematography, filming and camera management and all he had to do was make sure the blocking looked good, limit the amount of retakes needed. Gunther and Oluo worked in post production and video editing.

But structure was an illusion.

The actors hadn’t arrived yet. Other new roles hadn't been finalized. The script was still unfinished. Yet, they were under the mercy of the vision of higher ups

"We're heavily delayed,’ or so that was what Erwin had explained. ‘Feedback of the higher ups.”

There were deadlines, unreasonable deadlines for the employees, yet a reasonable wait for the average audience. They had less than a month to finish filming and post production for the first few episodes of the new season, less than a week to produce everything for the old season.

When he was in a pseudo-management role, as a cinematographer, it was automatic. When filming, he should be going down to the set. But they weren't filming yet. In fact, there were people in the set not doing anything.

In the chaos, everything didn't seem to add up. So Levi forced one memorandum, one attempt at structure. He would finish the final editing by that night and start the next day with a blank slate. Even if he needed to, he would stay until midnight to make it work.

That new writing team should be coming soon. Levi repeated to himself. Erwin had said so himself, Petra had also mentioned it excitedly over lunch.

All Levi had to do was get the episodes ready for review by the higher ups, then ready for airing then he could start that new season with a healthier approach, maybe find some way to add more structure to his already hectic job.

“Petra, don’t wait for me. I’m working overtime today.”

Petra jumped on her seat.

Levi only realized then, he had come up from right behind her. And Petra had been busy reading through something in her laptop, a quick glance confirmed, it was the unfinished script.

Levi continued. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Petra looked back at him, a worried look in her face. She opened her mouth to speak.

“Deadlines,” Levi answered.

“You need any help? You know Oluo and Gunther, they can stay too. Or even me.”

“I can finish it myself,” Levi said. He was completely aware either way that it was his job to review everything before anyone else reviewed and before it went on air.

There was an indignant look on Petra's face. But Petra never really imposed. She nagged, doted, argued but she never imposed.

And he managed to pacify her by requesting an espresso and a cup of tea from the tea shop right in front of the studio. Beverages were frowned upon in the video editing room. Levi though was particularly meticulous, he was tired and stressed and he allowed himself some leeway.

Just today. And when they start filming the new season, during the hiatus, Levi would reopen his work with a more organized approach, more suited for his personality. He constantly reassured himself of that as he continued to edit the videos, crosschecking with storyboards and scripts.

Most of the work had been done. Most of the work had been easy to scan through. Still it was hours of sifting through retakes, reviewing and setting them up for reviews and cuts. In the silence, completely alone, He gladly gave the task the required focus, more than enough not to have noticed the sound of the door click behind him.

“This is the coffee you asked for right?” The voice wasn’t Petra’s but still it didn’t seem at all hostile. In fact, the voice seemed friendly.

Friendly enough for Levi to feel obliged to respond.”Thanks.” A new hire maybe? In the one week he had been working there, three people had already quit.

It wasn’t worth a second thought. The important thing was he got his coffee and tea. So he didn’t bother looking up, only looking with his peripherals to see the paper white of the cup just a few inches away. He reached one hand towards the cup and surprisingly, his hand didn’t grasp for paper. It went for something a little softer, something a little cooler but still warm to the touch.

And it moved. A bug? A pest? That had been Levi’s first speculation, being the paranoid clean freak he was. Before his guesses could get anymore creative he looked at the cup and saw the cup was stable on his desk. He had a grip, not on the cup itself but on the other hand which held the cup. The movements were from a hand underneath his..

A wild hand. It slipped out of his grip, and before Levi could pull away, it gripped him in return, squeezing harder on his pointer finger and his middle finger.

For just a second. A painfully awkward second.

A second of realization was all Levi needed to pull away. “May I help you?” he asked. It took a lot more willpower not to curse at that strange invasion of privacy. A second later, reason took over and Levi realized that he was the one who had gripped her first.

He had planned to grip the coffee cup, he justified himself.

“They said… You needed some coffee.” The voice was nonchalant. Yet somehow, nonchalance had managed to make his blood boil. “So I came here to drop it and say hi,” she added, as if that was the most natural response.

‘Say hi’ didn’t usually involve two hands gripping one another, then interlocking. Her hands were still gripping the tip of his fingers and for a second they were frozen.. “Are you always this touchy then?” Levi pressed. Especially with a total stranger. Levi looked up, turned his head towards the voice and confirmed it, she was definitely a familiar face but they were barely even acquaintances.

Brown hair tied up in a ponytail, glasses propped comfortably on her nose and just underneath them, warm brown eyes that had no problem just staring, studying… And in their own way, leaving Levi very very jarred by the mundane gesture called ‘eye contact.’

“I was hoping to talk for a bit,” she said. “If you’re not too busy, we can---”

“I’m busy right now,” Levi said. He pulled the coffee closer to him, suddenly careful when awareness dawned on him abruptly. Suddenly, he was completely aware that the coffee cup was only a few inches away from the computer. “Can this wait?”

Those brown eyes were suddenly wider, a hint of surprise. Then they narrowed at him and Levi felt some pity blanket his already sluggish and aimless movements. Before he knew it, he was very very unproductive.

He had to do something. “My name is Levi by the way.” He was deliberately gentler that time and usually lowering his voice and slowing down did some magic to make him seem kinder than he usually seemed to new people. Or so, that had been what Petra had advised multiple times before.

Levi looked up, forced a subtle smile, a combination between a tightlipped line and crinkles at the edge of his mouth. The most he could manage for a courteous introduction.

Her reaction was unexpected to say the least. He noticed her eyes first, the way they widened. Her jaw dropped. She closed it again, a subtle twitch in her lip.

Did I say something wrong? Levi thought to himself. He looked back at the computer screen. “Levi… Levi Ackerman,” he added. Would that help ease the tension of the room?

Even when Levi started to make a game for himself, playing video edits again and again, he realized he was more focused on pretending to concentrate than in actually polishing the transitions between scenes.

Hange eventually spoke up. “Hello Levi. Nice to meet you.” Her voice was softer in that last sentence.

“Nice to meet you too.” That had been surprisingly difficult to say. He sensed the discomfort in her voice, and maybe he had unknowingly mirrored it.

“My name is Hange Zoe. I’m going to be working as a screenwriter here…”

Oh. Oh. So that’s Hange Zoe. For someone who spearheaded blockbuster hits, who had people talking like crazy over rumors, it turned out she was a very underwhelming presence.

“I’m the cinematographer here,” Levi said. Technically, that was his job title but at that point, he was doing everything. “So I guess we’re going to be working together a lot.”

“We will,” Hange responded. Her presence was underwhelming. So underwhelming that Levi felt no need to even be excited that they had a prodigy screenwriter in their midst. Her voice was soft when she spoke to him. Her eyes were some mix of disappointment, nervousness, uncertainty.

Levi suspected it was her demeanor, her approach towards him that had caused such tension to settle in such a tiny room. “Thank you for coffee,” Levi said. Any nice gesture seemed like a worthwhile attempt to ease it.

A wide smile played at Hange’s lips, still far from what Levi would have considered confident though. “Happy to help.”

That’s the award winning screenwriter? “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“I’m going to be working on a few scripts tonight, have Erwin look at them in a day or so,” she said. Her voice had shifted to something more professional, and her meekness was starting to feel more like a misinterpretation on Levi's end..

“Looking forward to them,” Levi said.

The door slammed behind him, a little louder than the click that followed. The room was dim, it was almost distracting. When Levi turned towards the lights, he considered turning it on, to save himself the discomfort of sore eyes.

He turned his chair, put enough wait into one leg only to notice the sluggishness, the numbness underneath. His legs were jelly. Her hands were trembling and his breaths weren’t coming out in predictable bouts. He turned back to the computer and prepared to review what he had already edited.

The video was playing and Levi was convincing himself that he was productive.

Halfway through the episode, or even a quarter through the episode (Levi wasn’t counting), his mind had wandered. When his surroundings just became a little too overwhelming, Levi let loose just a little bit. He let the heaviness in his chest and the stiffness of his limbs speak for him then.

That voice of a while ago, Hange Zoe’s voice. That voice was nostalgic, heart wrenchingly nostalgic.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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