#just 'oh hey a picture vaguely related to this step of the process'

[theemperorsfeather]

Are we making a picture book for kindergarten or something???

[wrightaboutthat]

Collegial Support ~A Narumitsu One-Shot~

Summary: “I could not stop thinking about you this morning. And it’s landed me in quite the...predicament.” A desperate cry for help brings Phoenix Wright into the Chief Prosecutor's office. The reasoning, however, is beyond anything he could have imagined.

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Office Sex, Fluff and Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Frottage, Desperation, Riding, all these tags but they're still so incredibly in love your honor, basically just them trying to one up adoration the entire time, Vaguely Set After AA4, no beta we die like miles' self control, Oh and I forgot the Lawyer Cult tags-neck kiss o'clock, Horny Lawyers, Miles Edgeworth is sent to the moon

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! I'm so anxiously excited for this one. I'm still trying to find my footing with this pairing, but couldn't help but dive headfirst into some good ol' office loving. Soundproofing in prosecutorial spaces is a blessing, actually. I'm so obsessed with how much these two adore each other, and subsequently so obsessed with bringing that element to light!

Super happy to finally share this with you all, and shoutout to the Lawyer Cult/the *cough hack* Hivemind for offering encouragement along the way! The excitement and support offered necessary boosts to keep going, so I appreciate you all <3. Hope you enjoy!

You can also read the work on AO3 here [x]

Phoenix was nothing but casual whistles as he strolled through rival territory. Nothing was out of the ordinary; it had been a regular day, a regular workload, and regular chain of beckoning messages on his phone.

“Wright?”

“Hey baby. What’s up?”

“Are you busy currently?”

“Not really, why?”

“Come to my office at your earliest convenience. I require your assistance.”

“Be over soon <3”

He had wrapped things up, left matters in capable hands, and headed over to the Prosecutor Building. It was not an unusual sight, as everyone in the space immediately recognized his intentions. Thus, unimpeded and contented, did he journey up to the office of utmost desire, mentally preparing for cases and kisses a plenty.

But walking into his partner’s office changed that. Where he expected to find Miles sitting at his desk, he instead found him standing on the opposite side. Where he expected to immediately catch those gorgeous silver eyes, he instead found a tense, burgundy backside. And where he expected to find the usual poised posture, he instead found a pose of what appeared to be frustration. For whatever reason, the normally composed man was leant over the mahogany, head hung and hands fisted.

Any manner of salutation died in his throat, instead being replaced with a concerned inquiry as he strolled forward.

“Miles? Is something wrong?”

He watched as Miles sighed harshly, but remained frozen in his spot.

“I would say so, yes,” he grumbled, his baritone deeper and thicker than usual.

“What is it?” Phoenix asked, coming up to his partner’s side and seating himself on the edge of the desk.

Again, Phoenix was expecting something work-related. Perhaps one of the other prosecutors was ill-performing. Or maybe a case was quickly getting too complicated. There wasn’t much that seemed to shake the sturdy foundation that was Miles Edgeworth after all; he was poised, stoic, and powerful. So he prepared himself for something of an intellectual explanation, quietly observing and waiting.

He watched as Miles slowly brought his head up, his bangs shifting and continuing to border his face. He heaved another heavy sigh, and still continued to avoid eye contact. Phoenix felt his wavy brows furrow tighter, but he held his tongue. Eventually, Miles did end up breaking the silence, albeit in gritted, deep tones.

“It would appear that certain...matters...are spiraling out of control.”

“Such as?”

Another sigh, another grumble, and another pause. Miles’ head seemed to dip back down then, grey hairs effectively hiding his visage away.

“It’s abhorrent.”

“Okay?” Phoenix softly pressed, “What’s going on?”

There was another pregnant pause then, the air growing noticeably thicker. Despite the uptick in tension, the oddity of it all, Phoenix didn’t take his eyes off his partner, patiently waiting for an answer. He noted that Miles almost seemed to be trembling, something that earned a tautness in his throat. Still, the possible explanations swirling through his head didn’t even come close to what was eventually uttered.

“...Infernal physiological processes, ones that have never hindered me in the past.”

What?

Mismatched eyes blinked numerous times, attempting to make sense of the unexpected shift. What did that even mean? Sleep troubles? Anxieties? A bad craving for burgers from being around the kids for too long?

“I don’t understand,” Phoenix said.

Miles seemed to snarl, his hands tightening against the deep mahogany. Though Phoenix couldn’t see his face, he could easily picture the deep sneer his lips had likely hiked into.

“Must you make me say it, Wright?” he hissed.

“Yeaaaah?” Phoenix drawled, nervously resting his hand upon his neck, “Because I’m not following.”

The harshest sigh of them all sounded in response, before Miles’ head drooped even lower. He seemed to take a few beats of cleansing breaths, before miraculously pivoting to catch Phoenix’s stare. Heterochromatic eyes took note of numerous elements then: the sharpness to the opposing glare, the deep furrow to his brows, the very pronounced swath of crimson beneath ivory skin, and the sporadic beads of sweat against his hairline. He certainly looked shaken, and once more did Phoenix’s brain clamber for a reason. Again, was he proven deeply wrong in a matter of seconds, the true answer utterly whiting out his entire system.

“I could not stop thinking about you this morning. And it’s landed me in quite the...predicament.”

A pin could be audible in the space if one were to fall, the office growing incredibly silent. Likely because Phoenix wasn’t even breathing; words and inhalations had utterly jammed in his throat. Outwardly, he was frozen in time, locked in the utmost surprise. Inwardly however, his subconscious was clambering and screaming. It ran through the words over and over again, attempting to process, attempting to taste. Because, there was absolutely no way that was the true reason. Despite dating Miles for a while, despite being intimate, there was no way such troubles spilled off his tongue.

So, when Phoenix finally got air moving through his lungs again, he quickly spoke his incredulousness.

“You’re kidding.”

An even deeper shade of crimson gripped Miles’ cheeks, and he ran to hide behind curtains of grey hair once more.

“No.”

“R-really, you must be joking,” Phoenix said, his hand gripping his neck a bit tighter.

“Does it look like I am?” Miles snapped.

No. It didn’t. The tension, the embarrassment, the desperation...It absolutely all checked out. And the more Phoenix processed it, the more he burrowed into the delightfully chaotic situation, the more he fell under a similar spell. The corners of lips began to twitch upwards, and his heart began to pound harder and faster within his chest. He stepped back through the situation, all the way back to the initial text messages. And when the disguising blanket draped upon “I need your assistance” was yanked off to reveal “I need you...”

“Wow, I...Wow,” he breathed, beginning to grin and chuckle all the same. When Miles simply groaned and remained silent, he couldn’t help but state the obvious, cementing them both into the humorous yet delicious reality.

“Esteemed Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth rushed me to his office because he was horny?”

Said esteemed prosecutor recoiled like he been slapped, before scrunching himself down even further.

“Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled.

But where one was falling, the other was rising; Phoenix found himself beaming more and more, amusement and interest quickly surging within.

“Ahh right, always one for eloquence,” he snickered, moving his hand upwards to run through ebony strands, “How about...Miles Edgeworth couldn’t get his rampant, raging desire under control?”

“Wright.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle more. The cheerful noise pried silver eyes back in his direction, but not in a preferred manner; Miles was glaring something terrible.

“And quit laughing,” he hissed.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” Phoenix said, controlling his mirth but still grinning all the while, “I’m just...blown away- maybe even flattered?”

When Miles answered with nothing but an embarrassed exhalation, Phoenix couldn’t help but look on with a more sheepish expression himself.

“You’re...that attracted to me?”

“Unfortunately...” Miles sighed.

Phoenix couldn’t help but giggle once again, feeling heat spread out across numerous places in his body. He saw fit to punch through the barriers Miles was hidden behind then, reaching out with a hand to softly frame his sharp jaw.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m insanely attracted to you too,” he murmured, giving a few strokes of his thumb, “Always have been. And you’re lucky I am because you’re an ass, and you scared me.”

“Understandable. It was...a shameful move.”

It was then that Phoenix began to grow frustrated with the frozen state of his partner. That, and he felt inclined to test the waters of attraction, to delight in the desperation Miles was trapped in. He had called him over in search of distressed release after all, so it was high time Phoenix unlocked the apprehension and allowed them both to enjoy.

His grin turned a bit slyer then, and he hopped off his mahogany perch, venturing to stand behind his Miles’ backside. Phoenix watched as burgundy stiffened even more, but before any objections could be raised, he was snaking his hands around the bent-over form. Grasping his torso, he pulled Miles upright, pulled him flush. He even went so far as to jut his hands downward, tugging that glorious behind into his already-swelling groin.

The resulting shaky gasp furthered his smile, and he was half-tempted to grind something terrible. But he held onto his composure, held onto his resolve, instead relying on words to chip away at any semblance of control. They were their art form after all, their weapon; surely they’d be just as effective at beckoning Miles into the bliss he craved.

“Yet you called me here anyway,” Phoenix whispered, easing his mouth close to Miles’ ear, “Were you just that desperate, Miles? Longing and aching?”

The effect was immediate; the room electrified and Miles stiffened immensely against him before beginning to quiver.

“W-Wright...”

The reaction caused mismatched eyes to flash, a darker sheen blanketing over the amusement. The longing and aching were quite mutual after all, Phoenix quickly venturing to the same plane. Brazenly, he flicked his tongue up the helix of Miles’ ear, before traversing into even dirtier territory.

“Yeah? Or was it because you knew I can’t exactly pass up on such an opportunity?” He barely gave Miles an opportunity to shudder or whine before he added with beam, “Almost makes me want to subvert expectations. Maybe I need to make myself less available.”

He was pleased to see Miles jerk his head, glaring at him over his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t dare...” he hissed, though his vocals were less solid than before.

“Maybe not,” Phoenix said, moving back to bite and kiss at the offered ear, “Think I’d rather pleasure you until you can’t think straight.”

Miles was definitely unraveling; his backside pressed harder against Phoenix’s tenting crotch. It was a beautiful thing, an unexpected delight. He never pictured that he’d have a Chief Prosector falling apart in his hands, rasping and begging and wanting. He felt inclined to play just a bit more, to savor the moment.

“Wright...”

“Ahh right, eloquence,” Phoenix chuckled, moving his kisses to any part of that gorgeous neck that wasn’t hidden by Miles’ cravat, “Think I’d rather dampen the- what’d you call it? Infernal psychological processes?”

“Physiological processes, darling,” Miles rasped, “Regardless, eloquence doesn’t really carry...the same effect...”

“Yeah?”

Phoenix could barely contain his smile, his excitement, licking a tantalizing trail against sweet ivory skin.

“So naughty, Miles. Yanking me here just to mess around, just to have dirty things whispered in your ear...”

“I’m...I’m certainly not proud of such crassness...”

“No? Well, that’s a shame, because-“

Phoenix finally gave a grind of his hips, drawing sharp gasps from the both of them.

“-it’s driving me absolutely wild too.”

“Phoenix...”

Phoenix managed to contain himself a bit then. He managed to keep a hold on his own hungering pelvis. Instead, he opted to hammer in the last bits of reassurance, whispered between heated kisses to neck and jaw.

“Really, Miles. Don’t worry. Just enjoy yourself, love. I’ve got you. I’m glad you rang, because I want to make you feel so, so good. I always do.”

Miles tensed, as if poised to argue further. But then with a groaning sigh, a heaving breath, he beautifully relented, his head lulling backwards against Phoenix’s shoulder.

“I love you. How is it that you put up with my nonsense?”

Phoenix grinned, a mix of triumph and bashfulness. He thirsted over newly exposed skin for a few beats, before returning such sentiments.

“I love you too. And hey, I can’t exactly complain about getting to bang the Chief Prosecutor. Kinda the opposite- I want to boast it.”

To his furthered relief and amusement, Miles lightly snorted.

“Tsk...”

But despite the lightheartedness, despite the mirth, Phoenix knew there was a duty to be fulfilled. So he plunged back into lecherousness, whispering against Miles’ ear once more.

“So I can’t wait to make you scream, and let everyone know.”

He snickered as the rested head jerked back up, Miles looking over his shoulder with wide eyes.

“Phoenix Wright,” he gasped, “Were you always this lewd?”

“Mm, maybe; it kinda can’t be helped around you. But hey, you like it.”

Before any objection could be raised, before they fell victim to further arguing, Phoenix hushed it all with just a few calculated movements: he spun Miles around, removed his glasses, and swallowed any poised words with his own mouth. He coaxed the arguments into honeyed nothingness, eased the apprehension into eagerness, and melted the tension into heat. His tongue jabbed, and his hands wandered, wrestling out every sweet little noise he possibly could. But upon plunging downward, upon feeling the extremely taut bulge that was Miles’ front, Phoenix couldn’t help but break away and stare.

“Wow, holy shit- you really like it.”

Once again, he didn’t allow time for a response; he reached to trace the delicious outline with a hand, before giving the entire area a sharp squeeze. Miles of course, immediately acted accordingly. Being so pent up, so deprived, so hungry, his entire body practically rolled from the sensation, coupled with a strangled noise of approval.

“N-nngh...”

And that was the utmost green light. That was all Phoenix needed to leap into action. His eyes flashed with a darker sheen, a hotter spark, and he slipped his hands around Miles’ hips.

“Alright. Enough making you wait- let’s take care of you, sweetheart, hmm?”

“You’re far too good to me...” Miles panted.

“Because I adore you,” Phoenix said simply, before tugging him close, “Now c’mere...”

They locked into a passionate kiss then, one that quickly grew heated, desperate. Mouths wandered like they were each other’s quenching thirst in the desert, the first meal after starvation. Groans, whimpers, and shaky breaths sounded in a libidinous melody, cutting through the silence of thickened office air. And although Phoenix’s mind quickly began to grow woozy with lust, he still acted with his beloved in mind. Not breaking their connection, he softly ushered Miles back around his large wooden desk, guiding him back to his leather chair. And when the constrained hips began to grind, began to search for that fiery friction, Phoenix proceeded further.

He broke their kiss for the purpose of latching his mouth to area just beneath Miles’ jaw, sucking and staking his claim. As he did so, his hands wandered downward once more, fishing for the belt and fly that constricted his love so.

“Wr-Wright...” Miles whimpered, the cracking tonality pure music to Phoenix’s ears. Still, with a heated kiss followed by bite, did he voice his motives.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to get beneath this,” he breathily chuckled, briefly tugging on the damn cravat with his teeth, “But that’s not exactly the most pressing matter, now is it?”

His fingers were deft then, working at the devilish constraints and unzipping the burgundy slacks. Another teasing squeeze was offered to the ever-growing bulge, but when the touch earned a yelp, Phoenix denied no longer. He plunged a hand into soft fabric, grasped his lecherous prize, and finally pulled it free. He removed himself from Miles’ neck just in time to witness him groan with relief, his head lulling and his chest heaving. But unsurprisingly, were heterochromatic eyes drawn downward, marveling in the sight that awaited.

“God...You’re so stunning, Miles.”

And he was; he was utterly engorged and ready. The utmost desire was palpable, what with the tip weeping something terrible. Various twitches and jerks also complimented the display, Miles’ body practically screaming at Phoenix to proceed.

Proceed he did; he nudged Miles backwards and downwards, guiding him to sit. He wasted no time in kneeling betwixt shivering legs, spreading them further and allowing for more space. A second of admiration had to be given, before he finally nestled close, ghosting his breath across Miles’ center. Such an action earned a needy whimper, Miles reaching with a shaky hand towards Phoenix’s head.

“M-May I?” he rasped, just barely touching ebony strands.

“Do whatever you need,” Phoenix said, licking his lips and readying himself. Normally, he would be inclined to tease and taste. Normally, he would give kisses and licks before he consumed. Normally, he would take the time to marvel in Miles’ beauty. But with how heated the situation was, with how noticeable the tremors were, he skipped right over the normal proceedings. All he offered was a kiss to the dripping head, before steadying the shaft with a hand.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”

“T-thank you...”

The gasped words of appreciation died with the following actions. Phoenix guided Miles fully into his mouth, taking as much as he could possibly manage. As he slid downwards, eyes trained upwards, attempting to watch the reaction such relief earned. It was well worth it; Miles practically rolled like a wave, his head craning back, his free hand gripping one of the rests, and his mouth falling agape.

“O-oh fuck...Phoenix, thank you...”

The expletive rolling off such an esteemed tongue made brown and blue flash, kindling a new spark of determination within. Phoenix eased back, slipped a limp leg over his shoulder, and took Miles deeply again. He hollowed out his cheeks then, watching as the suction took its effect.

“A-ah!” Miles gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth and biting upon his fingers. He likely wouldn’t last long. Beginning actions were almost drawing forth cries already. So Phoenix slipped back once more, before finally starting his rhythmic bobs.

The office turned into a medley of strained pleasure then. Slurps, hums, and moans sounded from Phoenix, complimented by expletives, whimpers, and hissed praises from Miles. The hand against Phoenix’s head didn’t demand more- rather, it tugged against black hairs, communicating the mounting ecstasy. Still, even without guidance, did Phoenix go deeper still, proceeding until he lightly gagged. But despite the discomfort, despite the tears welling in his eyes, he was undeterred.

For he was driving Miles insane and he knew it. The divine baritone he was so accustomed to had rocketed upwards in pitch. The legs that were normally so sturdy and strong had become something of gelatin. The control which Miles normally wielded so well had all but dissipated, sharp noises and hissed vocals increasing in volume and frequency.

“Oh, Phoenix...F-fuck...L-love you...Just like that...”

It was fuel for Phoenix, stoking the inner flames. He grasped his perch a bit tighter, and sped up his movements, groaning and slurping all the while. Fluid was dribbling down his chin, and the occasional tear dripped down his cheeks, but still, he continued. It didn’t matter that his own slacks were painfully tenting. It didn’t matter that his knees ached. It didn’t matter that his jaw was starting to tire. It was all for Miles. And he intended to absolutely see it through to the end.

An end which did indeed seem fast approaching; the hand which had gripped Phoenix’s hair shakily traveled downward, feebly grasping at the working jaw.

“P-please...I’m- Phoenix, I’m a-about to...”

It was a crackling warning that went unheeded. It was a vague instruction that went ignored. Instead of backing away, Phoenix slid deep once again, switching between sucks and swirls of his tongue. He even went so far as to reach with a hand, moving to fondle whatever he could. And that was it. The stimulation reached its utmost peak. Miles’ pelvis tensed immensely, before giving a mighty quake.

“G-God I’m- ah!”

The sharp cry matched the intensity of the first spurt within Phoenix’s mouth. The force made him startle slightly, but he quickly relaxed, eagerly drinking in the release. He hummed a single note as he captured the bursts, taking everything completely in. But to the beautiful torture of Miles, he did not cease with his suction; between swallows, he continued to work his lecherous efforts, efforts which quickly took effect.

“Ah- Ph-Phoen- Ah!”

He pushed through the growing sensitivity, pushed through the crests, fully intent on overwhelming Miles with the deserved pleasure. Cries ventured more towards yells, shivers more towards jerks, those handsome vocals choking off in the utmost ecstasy.

“Phoenix!”

Mismatched eyes ventured to take in the scene. Miles was arched against the chair, gripping the leather like he was holding on for dear life. Moisture dripped down his ivory skin, likely a mixture of tears and perspiration. And when he quickly clapped a hand over his mouth and released a muffled noise that surely would have been a scream, most would normally cease their efforts. But Phoenix remained. Phoenix continued. He stayed until the pulses slowed, the bursts stopped, and the cries blubbered. Only then, did he release Miles from his mouth with a smack, sitting back on his legs to admire his work.

It was like Miles had been reduced to a burgundy puddle, utterly limp against the chair. He quivered and heaved, his pants shaking as he fought for breath. An occasional whimper slipped through his lips, an aftershock or two likely traversing through his system. But he appeared satisfied, appeared entirely sated.

Phoenix ran his tongue across soiled lips, before wiping at his mouth further with the back of his hand. He massaged his jaw for a beat or two, before smirking at the handsome mess before him. Though his knees groaned, he slowly stood up and straddled Miles’ lap. And, being mindful of his positioning, he eased himself to sit, before nuzzling close.

He couldn’t help himself then; he felt inclined to finally rid Miles of the dreaded fabric barrier. He softly tugged at the various loops, and struggled a bit, as per usual. But soon enough, did he finally unwind the cravat, tugging it free and revealing his favorite expanse of skin. Phoenix sighed a bit at the sight, before grinning and easing close. Seeing as Miles was still recovering, he didn’t leap for fervent, desperate kisses; instead, he opted for gentle, for reverent, easing his mouth over dewy skin.

To his delight, Miles softly moaned, his quivering hands easing around Phoenix’s back to hold him close. The soft kisses continued, coupled with a few sucks here and there. Phoenix carried on, even with his crotch atrociously swollen, and with rasped words from his beloved breaking the silence.

“Oh, darling...My dear love...”

Phoenix’s beam grew at the endearment, a delightful blush easing across his cheeks. Through his smile, through his affections, he of course returned the praise.

“Hmm...You did so well, sweetheart...”

Miles’ hands gripped Phoenix’s back a bit tighter, holding him close in a messy embrace.

“I love you...” he said through his slowing breaths, “You’re astounding...”

“I love you too,” Phoenix replied, offering one more kiss before leaning back. He watched as Miles craned his head back against the chair, continuing to wheeze and come down from his high. While the sight was satisfying to see, it caused a rather devious smirk to form.

“But don’t get too tired on me now.”

Wrinkled burgundy tensed beneath him, almost as if Miles was holding his breath. His grin intensifying, Phoenix leaned close once more, offering another kiss to that desirable neck before adding, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Miles’ head was quick to snap back up, stunned eyes locking with smug.

“P-pardon?!”

“I said I wanted to make you feel good, remember?”

“Y-yes but...Phoenix, you already have. You’ve done everything and more.”

“And you were the one who gave the horny summons in the first place.”

“I-inconsequential!” Miles hissed with a furious blush to match, a sight that tugged a laugh from Phoenix. “If anything, it’s high time I return the favor. Your slacks are absolutely bursting at the seams.”

“Heh; the Chief Prosecutor has a perverted eye.”

“Phoenix.”

The biting tone hushed any further cheeky comments. When Phoenix quieted, Miles softened, sighing and reaching with a hand.

“Let me see you,” he said, cupping Phoenix’s face, “And give you what you desire.”

“You will. And I desire more of you.” Phoenix shied away from the touch, leaning close to Miles’ ear once again. He offered the sensitive area a kiss, before smirking and purring more libidinous motives. “I want to be inside you...”

To his delight, he could feel the shakiness that quaked at such a phrase. It seemed like Miles had stuttered on his breath, the intense words likely plunging betwixt his legs. Strangely though, such whispers didn’t beckon like they had earlier; Miles appeared to fight for composure rather than submit.

“You’re far too pent up. You’re seconds away from finishing in your suit.”

Phoenix smirked, leaning back and shaking his head.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Wright.”

“I will. I just want- ah!”

The unexpected squeeze to Phoenix’s taut bulge sliced his words with a yelp. It was something of a lightning strike, his crotch electrifying from the touch it so desperately craved. Really, he could barely deny it anymore. He knew he was painfully wanting. Everything between his legs was straining, throbbing. And much to his chagrin, Miles was also aware.

“I know you’re suffering, dear.”

“Miles-“

Once more were arguments cut by further touches, further whimpers of need. It felt good, so incredibly good, Phoenix’s hips bucking towards the sensation on their own accord. But still, in the back of his mind, did stubbornness persist. For he wanted nothing more than to pleasure Miles, to focus on sending him absolutely skyward. It was why he had been called to the office in the first place; his own wants were insignificant in comparison.

But oh, how his body fought to overpower his mind. Oh, how it screamed for him to give in. Even still...

“Shh...” Miles soothed, poising his hand over the swell.

“I’m not...This isn’t how I wanted-“

“Perhaps I’m not done with you either.”

It was astounding how well Miles knew him. It was astounding how in tune Miles was with his thoughts. And it was astounding that Miles wanted...more. Naturally, such notions were indeed enough to shut Phoenix up, all points dying in the back of his throat. He fished for silver eyes with widened bicolored, beginning to shiver atop his burgundy perch. Miles gave him a knowing look then, raising a single brow before murmuring further.

“So in the mean time, hush, and let me help you.”

Reflexively, Phoenix opened his mouth to stubbornly resist, but no words rolled off his tongue. He was locked into the silver spell, insistent eyes ushering him away from arguing. Biting his lip, he gave a feeble nod, and that alone encouraged the progression. Miles hummed a sigh, and softly nudged Phoenix’s chest, gesturing for him to stand. He quickly did as he was told, what with the tightness beneath his slacks indeed growing uncomfortable. He watched as Miles momentarily tucked himself out of the way, before rising to join him. He was half-tempted to hold the back of his neck, unsure of where things were going to go. But when Miles spun him around and pulled their forms flush, it became abundantly clear.

He couldn’t help but whimper then, the mere implications of what was to come causing his hips to shift. The movements only intensified when Miles nestled closer, his chin hooking on Phoenix’s shoulder and his hands snaking around his begging form.

“Look at you...” he whispered, pivoting to press a kiss to the side of Phoenix’s jaw, “You thought you were going to last? Truly? You’re writhing, love...”

It really was something- how quickly he fell apart, how quickly he lost his foothold. But it couldn’t be helped; he had always been impervious to Miles’ intoxicating touch. It was a wonder he thought he’d last indeed. Still...

“I...I was going to try...F-for you...”

“So stubborn.”

Normally, there would be teasing and palming abound. Normally, Miles would be meticulous with his touches and strokes. But presently, he seemed to follow the exact route of desperation, skipping directly to the point. For he reached for blue slacks, hastily unzipped them, and tugged Phoenix free. He wasted no time at all, grasping the pulsing length with a hand and immediately creating shockwaves.

“Ohh fuck...” Phoenix gasped, his tone already hiking upwards.

Though his mind was instantly woozy, though his body was focused on sensations below, he could still feel the warmth from Miles’ smile. It glimmered upon his shoulder, coupled with a contented sigh as monochromatic eyes likely looked him over.

“Hmm...Exquisite as usual.”

He released his grasp, leaving Phoenix in a shivering limbo. But then came a sound that drew forth a whimper: Miles licking and moistening his hand. And moments after, it was a wonder Phoenix’s legs didn’t immediately give out. It was a wonder he didn’t yell into the heated silence of the office. Because yes, Miles knew him well; he knew exactly the right pressure, exactly the right stroke. He gave several tugging passes, before fixating on the head, thumbing the slit in circular motions.

White flashed before Phoenix’s eyes, a garbled mess of moans and gasps escaping him. His pelvis thrust towards the skillful hand, chasing after the intense pleasure. It was incredible, or pathetic- he couldn’t quite tell which. Because he was already feeling that clenching fire, that telling tension within his abdomen. Thus, did he heave and lean against Miles, straining to hold on.

“I can’t...I c-can’t...Miles, I...”

Miles huffed with amusement, squeezing the tip betwixt his fingers before shifting back towards strokes. Phoenix had to stifle a cry, clamping down on his noises as flames surged higher and higher.

“Fuck...Fuck! I’m...!”

“Let go, my darling...”

And just like that, he was done for. In just a few passes, he was finished. He stiffened immensely, before arching against Miles, crying out as he finally released the pent up tension. He roughy came in numerous bursts, likely soiling Miles’ hand and the floor before them. But said hand didn’t shy away, continuing to stroke to utter completion.

Phoenix moaned pitifully as he stepped down from immense heights, slumping back against the sturdier form behind him. He could feel the heat from Miles’ smile once more, lips ghosting against his neck as he hummed his triumph.

“There we are...” He eased a series of kisses to Phoenix’s skin before adding, “Utterly breathtaking...”

Phoenix turned his head to meet the advances, easing their mouths together despite his quickened breaths. He kissed Miles deeply, passionately, sighing as the last bits of elation departed his system.

But as he came up for breath, he became...acutely aware of just how fast things had gone. His gaze drifted downward to the mess on Miles’ hand, before shifting to the matching white streaks on the floor. Though Miles was masterful, it had hardly taken any effort. No, he wouldn’t have been able to last in a deeper connection at all.

The thought flooded his face with crimson, sheepishness overtaking his features. He shifted about on his feet, before awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Erm...”

Miles could easily sneer at him. There were boundless quips he could launch for such an occurrence. Banter seemed to be threateningly hanging above both of them. But instead, Phoenix only picked up on gentle huffs of mirth, the warmth of Miles’ expression still evident.

“Still going to bluff, my love?”

“Ah, no...” Phoenix pulled himself away then, mindful of the mess as he turned to face Miles. A hand crept up to hold his neck, along with more sheepishness to match. “You...You were right.”

He watched as Miles rolled his eyes and shook his head, though the gentleness remained.

“How ludicrous.”

It was then he surprised Phoenix, drawing his soiled hand to his mouth. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, he licked and sucked at the incriminating evidence, cleaning without complaint. He hummed as he did so, whereas Phoenix couldn’t help but rasp an expletive at the sight.

“Now who’s lewd?” he managed with a strained snicker.

“Hmm...Is it such a crime to marvel in you?”

“I guess not, but...damn, Miles.”

Silver stare flashed as he swallowed the last drops down, the action topped off with a contented sigh. Miles walked towards his shelves then, retrieving a few tissues. He offered Phoenix a handful, before bending down to address the remaining mess- the streaks which had narrowly missed their shoes.

“I’m just pleased I was able to return such a release,” he murmured as he cleaned, “You didn’t need to be hurting on my behalf, dear. Especially when you went through the trouble of coming here.”

“For you. You shouldn’t have even had to worry about my-

“-Hush,” Miles interjected, “Who’s to say I didn’t enjoy it?”

Further banter built on Phoenix’s tongue, but ultimately didn’t manifest. Instead, he opted to tuck himself back in before bending down and offering an additional hand. As he cleaned though, he couldn’t help but wonder...was Miles truly satisfied then? Did his own release mark the end? Would he be satiated until they saw each other again in the evening? Was it enough? Phoenix had been the one to allude to further steps, to delving deeper into pleasure. But the current actions smelt of finality.

That was, until a previous quip entered Phoenix’s brain, something said in passing but dripping with significance. He decided to inquire.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Did...did you say you weren’t finished with me?”

Miles stilled, a swath of crimson rolling across his cheeks. He kept his head down, hiding behind grey curtains once more.

“I suppose I did, yes.”

“You actually want to go further?”

“Don’t you?” Miles murmured, standing up to throw the tissues away.

“Ah, yeah, of course I do. I always do,” Phoenix said, mirroring Miles’ actions. When he had disposed of things, he opted to stand with a hand grasping his neck. “But you’re not bothered? My beloved workaholic wouldn’t worry?”

“Well, there’s always something to be done,” Miles said, venturing back towards Phoenix to loosely snake his hands around the small of his back. “But all the same, I can’t exactly pass you up.”

“You don’t have meetings or anything though?”

“I can guarantee you I don’t.”

“But that’s- wait.” Phoenix shifted in Miles’ embrace, starting like he did in court when a realization struck. “Don’t tell me you carved out space in your itinerary.”

He watched as Miles opened his mouth, only to be silenced by a new wave of warm blush. As the words died, he avoided eye contact. That alone was an answer, an easy deduction, effectively drawing a breathy laugh from Phoenix.

“Oh my God, you did. Miles, you literally made a dick appointment.”

Such a statement drew the monochromatic gaze back, but in the form of a glare. The angry crimson did nothing to help the rivaling laughs, effectively leading to Miles breaking away.

“Phoenix Wright, your crude terminology has me inclined to cancel.”

“Sorry!” Phoenix snickered, reaching to lace his hands around Miles’ neck and restart their embrace, “I’m just...so blown away. I never thought you’d want something like this.”

Miles heaved a sigh, averting his eyes once again as the blush turned gentler.

“Yes, well...wanting you to such a degree changes a lot.”

It was Phoenix’s turn to blush then. He couldn’t help but grin through the warmth, easing close enough for their noses to brush.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, nuzzling until he drew forth a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too.”

It was only natural that the pair kissed, slower and more purposeful than their previous advances. Even with deeper intimacy on the horizon, even with lecherousness hanging over their heads, their lips only glided and caressed.

“What about you?” Miles softly asked when they broke apart, “Nothing going on at the agency?”

“Nah. I’m sure the kids will keep everything in working order.”

“Mm...”

Phoenix’s brows furrowed slightly when Miles looked away, scanning his sharp features for discomfort. He couldn’t quite decipher, so he reached up with a hand, framing Miles’ jaw and stroking with his thumb.

“Hey, we really don’t have to continue if you don’t want to though. Don’t pressure yourself. If there’s any doubt, we can wait until we’re home.”

“No, that’s...” Miles sighed, the color in his cheeks intensifying further. “...I do. This morning, I couldn’t stop envisioning...”

Even though he trailed off, the underlying meaning was apparent. Brown and blue eyes flashed, coupled with the room twinging with a new burst of heat.

“So all of this wasn’t enough, hmm?”

“It was extraordinary, but...”

Phoenix smirked, easing close again. The vice of desire tightened around them, beckoning his lips to that stunning neck once more. He hummed and kissed a trail, already feeling sparks venturing downward.

“...But you want me inside you too,” he whispered against sweet skin, sealing the statement with a nip.

The salacious words and actions prompted another shiver. Phoenix’s grin only intensified, coupled with the frequency of his bites.

“It’s incredibly crass, I know,” Miles eventually said, his voice strained as he shifted beneath the touches.

“It’s amazing is what it is. And perfect because...I want you too. God, I want you so bad.”

Phoenix latched his mouth onto sweet skin something proper then, biting and sucking. He was intent on making a mark, both literally and figuratively, driving his point completely in. Said motives were made worse by a moan gracing his ears, the noise hammering in his claim.

“Phoenix...”

The subsequent grin broke the heated connection. He leaned back to admire, humming at the reddish blotch that seemed to saturate in real time. But though they stood together in the flames, though he could still taste Miles upon his tongue, though their bodies had started to sing once more, he couldn’t help but inquire one last time.

“You’re sure?”

Heated eyes softened, Miles reaching to cup Phoenix’s face.

“I’m sure,” he murmured, before sighing and looking away, “Lest you depart and my thoughts...drift once again.”

“Maybe those infernal physiological processes aren’t so bad after all...” Phoenix snickered, his hands drifting to mirror the frame.

“Mm...”

The pair smiled, before easing to close the space between them. Lips initially brushed in a tender kiss, but quickly intensified to something far more molten. Starving mouths gaped, and thirsting hands wandered. As Phoenix plunged downward towards a particular prize however, as hands grasped burgundy curves, concentration was severed once more.

“Ahh, shit,” Phoenix hissed.

“What is it?”

“You don’t...happen to have any supplies, do you?”

“Bottom drawer...towards the back.”

The instruction sent Phoenix off without hesitation initially. He broke away towards the specified destination, bending down to fish for the desired bottle. Upon grasping it though, a lightbulb suddenly popped forth; he couldn’t help but smirk as he processed the location, the readiness.

“D-don’t you say a word, Wright. Just grab it.”

It was like Miles had peered into his cheeky thoughts. That, or he had spied the budding mischievousness on his face. Either way, it made Phoenix snicker once more, standing up and biting back wry comments.

“And wipe that grin off your face,” Miles huffed.

“Do it for me.”

Silver eyes narrowed, but Miles complied, surging forward to lock them in a hungry kiss. Hands from both parties began to wander, groping and attempting to make purchase. Miles’ fingers curled through ebony locks, whereas Phoenix’s hands framed his favorite jawline. The pair moaned through the rougher advances, heat surging and dancing betwixt them.

It certainly wasn’t a bad way to allow their bodies to catch back up.

The swirling warmth prompted Phoenix further. His hands drifted downwards, grasping Miles’ collar and giving a beckoning tug. Miles understood at once, breaking the kiss and panting against rival lips. Phoenix took advantage of the pause, moving to remove his own jacket. He was simply going to shrug it off, to opt for a quick discard, but a pair of hands interjected. He looked on with mild confusion as Miles guided the fabric off, dutifully holding instead of dropping. It was when he meticulously hung it off the back of his chair that things clicked for Phoenix.

“Priorities,” he laughed.

“You’ll thank me later when your jacket isn’t a crumpled mess,” Miles said, repeating the actions with his own, “We’re going to be conspicuous enough already.”

Phoenix snorted, but the amusement did little to slow him. The moment Miles pivoted back to face him, he pounced, locking them back in a kiss as fingers worked at golden buttons. The action drew forth a whimper, but Miles seemed undeterred as well. He too, reached through the passion for Phoenix’s waistcoat, unbuttoning whenever he could manage. The pair worked through the layers of fabric, brushing the coats aside and finally reaching the undershirts. Phoenix could almost curse at their fashion choices, acting as a barrier of sorts against their fire. Instead though, his mind grew giddily woozy, what with the prospect of more beautifully exposed skin on the horizon. He hurried then, desperately working at buttons to remove the last block.

When he finally got it open, when he finally parted the fabric for his ardent eyes, he couldn’t help but break away to stare. Hands reached to follow his gaze, caressing the awaiting chest. The pair shivered at the exchange, but Phoenix was inclined to go further. Wandering fingers drifted to Miles’ dusky nipple, encircling the area before pinching lightly. The resulting gasp drew forth a smirk and magnetized lips to skin.

Phoenix kissed a trail across taut pectorals, humming at the sparks buzzing betwixt their bodies. Just as before, the gorgeousness bewitched him, leading him to lick and bite a plenty. He encircled Miles’ nipple with his tongue, long enough for trembling fingers to thread his hair. If they decided to tug, he would appropriately respond, nipping until a whimper was earned.

Eventually though, his own body grew impatient, beckoning him to press forward. He leaned back to eye his work, grinning at the beauty and marks alike.

“God, I love you. You and your body both.”

“I love you too. Though, did I not say I wished to see you as well?”

“You did, but...I’m not quite finished.”

Motions from earlier were repeated, Phoenix reaching to undo belt and slacks alike. Unlike before though, it was with the intention to completely remove; fingers grasped all matters of fabric, tugging until everything was pulled downward. Burgundy and boxers pooled at Miles’ feet, and Phoenix stooped to follow. He took a moment to remove Miles’ dress shoes and socks, before the other constraints were guided off and away.

Upon easing back to his knees, Phoenix found himself at eye level with the most desirable part of all. It was engorging once more, and already beading with pre-cum. As a result, he couldn’t help himself; he reached to give a tugging stroke or two, before he eased to kiss the awaiting moisture away. Miles’ groan almost coaxed him to pleasure further, but he ceased- though not without licking up the entirety of the beautiful length.

He kissed his way back upwards, murmurs of praise coiling on his tongue. The moment he was standing though, said murmurs were immediately hushed, Miles’ demanding mouth finding his. The two fell victim to yet another heated kiss, moans reverberating through the space. Before Phoenix could caress further, Miles raced for his turn. He deftly unbuttoned Phoenix’s undershirt, and caressed bare skin the instant it was offered. Phoenix couldn’t help but release a whimper for Miles to swallow, the touch trailing sparks across his own chest.

He expected actions to parallel, to mirror. But it seemed desperation was at the forefront; he smiled as Miles jumped right to his blue slacks, hurrying to free him once more.

“So ready for me...” Phoenix purred into swollen lips.

“Have been since the moment you embedded yourself into my thoughts...”

Such words flared nostrils, stuttered breaths, and stoked new fires of determination. He sighed as Miles removed him from fabric constraints once more, but when Miles pulled back and hesitated- perhaps to admire, Phoenix jumped at the opportunity. Clothing didn’t need to come fully off after all. Entire exposure wasn’t necessary. They had everything they needed, with a few conspicuous shields to match.

So he grabbed ivory hips, pivoting Miles around and ignoring the sharp gasp. A beckoning nudge was given, gesturing for Miles to bend over the desk before them. To his utmost delight, Miles did so without delay or argument, reclining and beautifully displaying. Though a new desperation was indeed gnawing within, Phoenix couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

“I’ll never be able to get over how gorgeous you are.”

“Hmm...” Miles hummed, propping himself up on his elbows, “Coming from the most magnificent man...”

“Says the one who’s insanely irresistible.”

“Objection- ah!”

Arguments were severed by touches; Phoenix’s fingers squeezed the offered cheeks, before easing to simply caress.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“You’re playing dirty, Wright,” Miles said, huffing and shifting against the contact.

“Well yeah, I would hope so. I’ll keep this method in mind for the next time you’re getting too sassy in court.”

“Yes, because they surely wouldn’t hold you in contempt whatsoever- ungh!”

Again were vocals stolen by a squeeze. Phoenix grinned, going so far as to offer a light whap before chuckling over the following gasp.

“Worth it.”

He kneaded the doughy flesh with his fingers, marveling at the sounds such an action earned. Every moan and whimper resonated directly between his legs, slowly coaxing his erection back to totality. He wasn’t quite sure how Miles wanted to proceed, how Miles wanted to be taken, but oh, how tempted he was to simply pound him then and there.

His beloved beginning to whine coaxed Phoenix towards the next steps. He reached for the bottle of neglected lube, popping it open and smirking at how Miles hummed at the sound. Generously, he coated his fingers, before transferring some to his still-swelling length. He stroked and readied with trembling sighs, before reaching for the desired entrance.

The second Phoenix brushed upon puckered skin, their breaths caught, tangling in the new tension gripping the room. Around he rubbed in tantalizing circles, ghosting upon the area in preparation. With how Miles squirmed, Phoenix expected to be implored, to be begged. Instead, he was stunned to watch as Miles reached back with a hand, prying and spreading himself open. It was a miracle Phoenix didn’t leap to sheath himself then and there.

He instead shakily inhaled, and poised a single finger to proceed. Consent had already been given. Approval had already been spoken. But even still, did Phoenix double check, holding steadily in place.

“Ready?”

He smirked when it seemed like Miles’ body did the talking, what with his pelvis titling a bit closer. Such an expression warmed all the more when shaky vocals joined the mix.

“Yes. Please.”

Through the muscular resistance he finally pushed then. Phoenix couldn’t help but hum at the tight warmth which awaited, the noise beautifully melding with the opposing moan. He eased in only to his knuckle at first, closely watching Miles for signs of discomfort. But when he only spied breathless pleasure, when he only spied a silent ask for more, did he insert his finger in completely. He allowed Miles a small respite, giving the muscles time to adapt and relax. The moment the tension eased, Phoenix began to move, slowly jutting in and out in a salacious pattern.

Mismatched eyes scanned meticulously, lecherously. He eagerly drank in every sigh, every quivering moan. If Miles seemed to react more to a certain area being stroked, Phoenix would fixate on the spot, jutting until hips quivered beneath his touch. He knew the workings of his partner after all. He knew what he liked, how he ticked. So when that gorgeously stoic body began to tremble, Phoenix went further, slipping a second finger into the mix.

“Phoenix...” Miles sighed, his tone coated with delicious enjoyment, “Yes...”

The praise fueled him, warming both his groin and his expression. He thrust the pair deeply, before taking a few beats to explore the muscular walls. He swirled about rhythmically, before scissoring for that perfect stretch. He couldn’t help but groan at the sensations, at the sounds, at the torridity of it all. He worked for every little bit of pleasure, every sweet vocalization from Miles.

It seemed successful thus far; Miles was writhing against his perch, moaning against the advances. The further Phoenix stretched, the more his reactions intensified. Deeper thrusts seemed to coax his hips backwards, like they subconsciously sought more stimulation.

So Phoenix delivered without hesitation. He slipped a third and final finger in, marveling at how Miles’ back arched in response.

“Fuck...” he gasped, sending a new rush of blood straight to Phoenix’s crotch, “So good...”

Every movement earned a breathy moan then. Every thrust was met with an equal advance. And every jolt of Miles’ pelvis seemed to coax Phoenix’s similarly. He needed more. They both needed more.

Phoenix reached deeply for that sweet inner spot, stroking until Miles began to whimper something terrible. But then, he abruptly pulled out, drawing a sharp gasp into the heated space. It was not without cause; he reached for the lube once more, intent on slicking and readying his erection.

“Ph-Phoenix...”

The mewl made him smirk through his preparation, smiling despite the grunts and sighs from touching himself.

“I won’t keep you waiting, baby. You’ve waited long enough.”

Biting his lip, he nestled himself into the constricted space, teasing his head against the awaiting entrance. The pair vocalized at the sensation, Phoenix groaning and Miles whining. But right before he proceeded, right before he could venture inward, Miles gasped with further conversation.

“Phoenix.”

Before he could even question the sharper tone, Miles released his grip on himself, effectively closing off proper access. In the pause he seemed to be taking to steady himself, to catch his breath, Phoenix couldn’t help but buzz with alarm.

“What is it?”

Miles inhaled deep lungfuls of air, before standing and pivoting to face Phoenix. Mismatched eyes were spellbound, immediately drawn downward to the enticing sight between pale legs. Despite their previous ventures, Phoenix was pleased to see that Miles was plenty hard once more- though, the relief was short lasted. Had he done something wrong?

“Sweeth-“

“-I love you,” Miles blurted, rushed and unexpected, “You’ve done everything and more, as you always do. It’s high time you simply sit back and enjoy.”

Before returned sentiments could even poise on his tongue, Phoenix found himself getting dragged across the room, stumbling as he was tugged by his hand. His aroused mind buzzed with confused static, unable to process the new turn of events. That was, until he spied where Miles was headed, where he was being lead to.

The pair of plush couches. A luxurious seat. A location entirely fitting for a different position.

“Oh...” Phoenix breathed, coming to the realization through his buffers, “That’s...”

“Phoenix.”

“R-right!”

As desperate as he was, as they both were, he rambled no further, nor did he try and argue. He simply assumed the new position, seating himself on the edge of velvety fabric. The moment heterochromatic eyes locked with fiery silver, he gave himself a presenting stroke.

“I’m yours how you want.”

Miles was on him immediately, gripping Phoenix’s shoulders and straddling his toned legs. Phoenix expected him to lower immediately, to aggressively ride the moment they were situated. Instead, to his surprise, did further honeyed words fall from his tongue.

“I do believe I’m the luckiest man in the world...” Miles said, aligning himself just so.

“Objection- believe that title belongs to-“

Argument and breath alike were stolen by Miles nestling close, positioning to proceed. Phoenix could almost laugh at how Miles turned his own tactics against him, what with hushing words with arousing actions. But he found himself too shaken, merely reaching to steady his shaft with a hand. He groaned as Miles gripped his shoulders tighter, and as cheeks enveloped his awaiting length.

There was the slightest bit of resistance, the smallest amount of give. Before suddenly, Miles engulfed him, sliding down and easing them into full penetration. Colors flashed in Phoenix’s vision, the feeling of connecting so deeply with his partner absolutely unprecedented. He couldn’t help but moan his approval, his hands flying for purchase on Miles’ body. It took all of his self control not to immediately lose it, biting his lip as Miles sunk further and further.

It seemed Miles had been holding his breath, for he released a groaning exhalation the moment he completely took Phoenix in. The pair panted and moaned, savoring the closeness and allowing each other to adjust. Phoenix nestled against Miles’ bare front, hissing quiet expletives with equally soft kisses to match.

“God...fuck...you feel so good...”

“You’re perfect, Phoenix...Utterly...perfect...”

“Love you...” Phoenix breathed, brushing beneath hanging fabric to get a good grip on Miles’ hips.

“Love you.”

And with that, did Miles begin to move, surely readied to chase what he had desired all day. Phoenix watched with thirsting eyes as Miles eased up, before slowly plunging downwards once more. The two moaned from the passes, the stretches, before Miles truly began to ride. He took Phoenix deeply, and rocked his pelvis with reckless abandon.

Phoenix looked on in awe, mesmerized as Miles undulated and threw his head back. Phoenix’s breaths were beginning to dance with moans, matching the grunting efforts sounding from his partner. The familiar fire was already starting to burn in his abdomen from such advances, his entire lower half alight with sensations. But he wasn’t about to finish quickly this time- not until he ensured Miles’ utmost satisfaction.

This was for him. This was all for him.

So he tossed care to the side, and began to meet, began to guide. With a tight grip on moving hips, he coaxed Miles towards bounces, so that he could properly mirror thrusts. Phoenix jerked his hips upward every time Miles bore down, deepening the stroke again and again. It seemed to have an immediate effect, Miles’ head lulling back even further.

“Ah!” he gasped, “Fuck...Phoenix, t-that’s-“

A tighter grip on Miles’ hips angled him forward, just that perfect little amount to beautifully graze the treasured spot within. Phoenix relished the obscenely loud moan such a shift earned, groaning himself as it instantly resonated in his groin.

“Fuck, Miles...God.”

He thrust upwards even harder, racing against his own body and Miles’ building speed. The office became a lecherous cacophony then, what with Miles keening, Phoenix grunting, and their connection squelching. It was music to Phoenix’s ears, utterly captivating and everything he wanted. Though, he still aimed to take Miles even higher, to draw forth uncontrolled noises as he unraveled.

“Phoenix, I’m...I’m close...Please, Phoenix, I-“

That was all he needed. Despite the burn in his pelvis, the tension in his stomach, the soreness in his legs, he strained to give Miles that last burst of pleasure. He continued to thrust, but reached with a shaky hand, intent on addressing Miles’ neglected erection. He grasped tightly as they both continued to move, tugging and jerking as best he could.

Any attempt at talking quickly turned into a jumble of moans and shallow gasps of air. But the moment Miles crested, the moment his orgasm tightly grasped his body, one thing still managed to ring loud and true.

“Phoenix!”

The cry echoed throughout the space and resonated deep within Phoenix’s mind. He felt warmth streaking against his hand and abdomen. He tugged until cries shifted more towards whines and dry sobs. And that was it; the flames had breached the last wall of control.

Throwing his hands back to Miles’ hips, he slammed him downward and came hard, bursting deep within. His head careened over the back of the sofa, moaning the beautiful opposing name through every intense peak.

“Miles! Miles!”

He jerked, pulsed, and emptied himself entirely into the cramped space. When Miles collapsed against him in blissful exhaustion, he too, melted in dreamy fatigue. The moment he stepped down from his climax, the moment he floated back down to Earth, he sagged back against the couch, something of ecstatic jelly.

The room was nothing but deep, slowing breaths then. After a few moments, Miles eased upwards and broke their connection with a soft moan, before easing to carefully settle atop bare skin. Phoenix could feel dewiness betwixt them, and could feel moisture leaking against his thigh. But he paid the sensations no mind; all he wished to do was marvel in his partner that much more.

He snaked his hands around Miles’ back, venturing beneath his ruffled clothing and holding him close. He softly caressed slick skin, before easing close to capture their lips in an exhausted kiss. Mouths lazily slid about, no glamour to the exchange as lips messily smushed. But when they were torn apart by panting huffs of air, did Miles finally find the wherewithal to speak once more.

“God...That...That was...”

“...The only way I’m choosing to spend my break from now on,” Phoenix finished with a breathy laugh. The mirth only intensified when Miles’ flushed expression turned incredulous, furrowing despite the streaks of red.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous...” he said, though twinkles of laughter were evident in his tone.

“Maybe. But you love me for it.”

“I suppose I do, yes. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Swollen lips connected once more, a bit more tender and composed. They kissed softly, sweetly, pouring all manner of adoration into the connection. Regardless, Miles seemed keen to articulate further once they broke.

“Speaking of ridiculousness, thank you, darling...”

“Hmm? For what?”

“For this! For...” Silver eyes flitted away, like they hadn’t just been caught up in extremely lewd acts. “...Tending to my...atrocious needs so.”

Phoenix couldn’t help but laugh, at the sight and notion alike. He reached up to brush damp grey strands back, before cupping Miles’ face.

“You’re not still caught up on that, are you?”

He snickered as Miles seemed to blush further, practically sinking against his hand.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Miles,” he laughed, angling for a quick peck before continuing. “I adore you, and will tend to you whenever you want. Atrocious needs, physiological processes, or whatever else gets you going- I’ll be there.”

“Phoenix...”

The murmur of disdain was hushed by yet another kiss. Through the sweet connection, and the honeyed lightness in his brain, thoughts gently drifted. Phoenix wanted to stay there forever, cuddled close and deliriously post-coital. He wanted to bathe his beloved in pleasure until neither of them could stand. He wanted to relish in his beautiful body and handsome soul. But with every passing minute, he became acutely aware of where they were, and the subsequent duties they both had. He almost sighed his disappointment against Miles’ mouth, knowing he did indeed have to get back to the agency sooner than later. Thankfully, his brain offered a solution, a solution that pried his mouth away with further snickers.

“Speaking of which, hope you’re ready for a repeat performance tonight.”

He laughed as silver eyes widened- even more so when hands playfully shoved his chest.

“I’m more than satisfied, you goon.”

He beamed, snorting and chuckling a plenty. Another jest manifested on his tongue, one that would surely earn another shove. But if it meant furthering the moment, and chasing after those “damn processes,” he was powerless to stop it.

“Alright alright. Same time tomorrow then?”

[generallybarzy]

on our faces

mat barzal x reader

summary: You and Mat go public about your relationship, and everyone can already see on your faces how much you love each other. This got a bit long for a lyric drabble, oops. word count: ~2,500

You weren’t sure how he could do it.

You would never be able to understand how Mat felt so comfortable with all those cameras, all the interviews, all the fans, and the attention. While he obviously wasn’t as famous as major celebrities and the two of you could go out without worrying about being swarmed by cameras, it was still strange being able to find videos and pictures of your boyfriend all over the internet. You’d never been particularly fond of cameras or the idea of being interviewed, so, even after almost a year of being with Mat, you hadn’t yet “gone public” with your relationship. Well… not officially, anyway. 

You kept rewinding the video on your phone, watching the same 10-second clip, and just trying to process it. There on the screen was your boyfriend, being interviewed a few days ago about something not related to hockey, some cute personal things. All things you already knew, but it still made you smile just seeing his dumb, beautiful face. 

But one moment caught you by surprise. 

Mat was easily, smoothly narrating a story of his that he had told you a while back. It was cute, he was laughing, the interviewers behind the camera seemed to be laughing… until he slipped- “Yeah, (Y/N) thought that was pretty funny”. You saw it process on his face and smiled as he stumbled over his words, turning a little bit pink and biting back a smile when the interviewers asked who he was talking about. He shook his head and smiled, pushing on to the next question. The interviewers didn’t press about it, but now everybody knows there is someone in his life he gets all bashful and flustered about- you. 

You didn’t notice Mat walk into the living room as you scrolled through the comments, looking at everybody wondering and conspiring about who this (Y/N) in Mat’s life was. “Why are you watching a video of me when real me is right here?” 

“Oh!” You pulled your phone out of his view as you finally realized his presence behind you. 

“Woah, babe.” He laughed a bit, startled, and held up his hands in a mock effort to calm you. He plopped down onto the sofa beside you, leaning into you and preparing for your tradition of pre-game cuddling. “Should I be worried that you're hiding your phone? What’s up?” 

“I saw your interview.” 

“Oh?” A little chuckle fell from his lips as he adjusted himself between you and the couch, laying half on top of you with his head tucked against your neck and his arms wrapping around your waist. “You’re gonna have to be a lot more specific.”

“The one where you mentioned me.” 

“Oh...” The smile fell from Mat’s face as soft hazel eyes shot up to search yours, all wide and worried and begging for forgiveness, and immediately you felt bad for making him think you were upset. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I know. It’s okay.” You lifted a hand to thread your fingers through his hair. “I'm not upset. Trust me. It actually got me thinking… you think we should just do it? Just rip off the bandaid and finally tell everyone?” You'd been hesitant to go public about your relationship for a while, not knowing how serious you and Mat were yet, and knowing that plenty of his fans would have opinions about you. So only a handful of people- some of his team members and a friend or two of yours- knew at the moment, and you really weren't sure how any of them had kept the secret so well. 

“Really?” Mat sounded way too excited, his eyebrows shooting up in hope and making you laugh a bit. He sat up a little bit, watching you with big, happy eyes. “I mean, really? That’s a big step.” 

"Yeah, I know it is. But I love you. And you love me, right?"

"So much."

"And now that we know this-” you gestured between the two of you “-is serious, I don't think there's any reason for me to hesitate to tell everyone how much I love you. I’m sure I can deal with all your fans." You leaned up to him and caught his lips. “I’m tired of being sneaky. I want to be able to hug you and kiss you out in public after games and not worry about people talking. I just want to tell everyone.”

Mat leaned down again and peppered kisses beneath your jaw, smiling against your skin like he always did when he was super happy. “If we do it now you can hug and kiss me after tonight’s game.”

“Let’s do it then.”

It wasn’t much, it wasn’t a huge announcement, just two cute, low key pictures posted on Instagram. As you requested, Mat was still the main focus of the picture, laying back on the couch and looking up at the camera and looking incredibly soft and, in your words, boyfriend-like (Mat laughed at that phrase), but everyone was able to see he was hugging someone with his free arm. Half of your face was pressed against his gray sweater, but your smile was still visible to the camera. The second picture was almost exactly the same, but the two of you had now locked eyes, smiling at each other harder than in the last photo. Beneath the photo was just a black heart emoji and your name. 

“🖤(Y/N)”

It was simple, but you assumed any fans following him would’ve seen the interview and would be glad for some explanation.

“Done.” 

“The caption is pretty vague.” You could practically feel the comments pouring in already, all the questions and the opinions and the inevitable doubts about your character. Mat pulled you closer and set his phone aside. “Do you think they’ll ask you about me at the game?”

“Someone probably will. We’ll see.” 

“Honestly, I’m a little bit nervous to see what some of your fans have to say about me.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about them. Nobody could not love you, okay? Trust me.” He pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m so lucky to have you, and I’m so glad I’m getting to show you off.” he snuggled against you and shut his eyes. “Let’s get some rest before the game.”

         -------------------

They did ask about you, but let’s back up a bit.

As you sat at the game in your Barzal jersey, waiting for warmups to start, you opened your phone, flipping back and forth from different social media, watching conspiracies form around you. It was fun, the idea that you were in on a secret that everyone was wondering about. Most of what you saw were positive comments about how happy Mat seemed recently- which people now figured was because of you. There was the comment ‘Will we see (Y/N) at the Isles game tonight?’ that worried you a little bit. 

You were confident people wouldn’t recognize you- most fans didn’t follow the players’ personal lives, especially who they were dating- but the idea of being approached by some crazy fans or even cameras was worrying.

Neither of the people next to you seemed like the type of fans who would be interested in the players' love lives, and neither of them looked at you with a face that said “Hey, didn’t I see you on Barzy’s Insta earlier?” so you relaxed again.

Warmups started, and you put away your phone to look for Mat. As you suspected, it didn’t take him long to find you while he was doing laps around the ice. You saw his face light up as he caught your eyes, and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest when he started skating closer to you. The last time he approached you like this during warm-ups was the first time you came to one of his games, he had tossed a puck over the glass for you and smiled. He had done that plenty of other times with other people, so everyone figured you were just a lucky fan, but since then, the two of you had been sneaky, with him smiling every so slightly ever time he passed by you. People would start talking if he kept approaching the same girl every game, right? But now… Now there was nothing to hide. 

He was smiling at you from the other side of the glass, and you smiled back at him, giving him a thumbs up for good luck. Surely plenty of people- both people who had seen the post and who had not- were watching this and wondering who was catching Mathew Barzal’s attention, but you really didn’t care. He was yours. 

All yours and you could finally let everybody know. 

Mat stayed near where you were, looking up and smiling every now and then, and it wasn’t long before Tito came over to his friend. You saw a few words exchanged between them before he looked up and waved to you. Soon, warm-ups were over, and Mat blew a kiss to you one last time before leaving the ice.

You were on the edge of your seat for most of the night, and you made a mental note to scold Mat later for making you so stressed. It was pretty much neck and neck through the first and second period, the score stuck on 1-1 and both teams coming equally close to scoring many, many times. You honestly couldn't tell if the Islanders were gonna win or not, but you had faith in the boys. Halfway through the second period, when the score was still tied, you could tell Mat was getting frustrated, and he started playing a bit more aggressively. You didn't like to see him get aggressive, despite how hot it was, but it ended up paying off. You watched in anticipation as he brought the puck closer and closer to the net. This was it! You jumped up from your seat and cheered loudly with everyone around you as he made the goal. That was your boyfriend! And now you could praise him online in the Instagram comments. 

That was your boyfriend who made that tie-breaking goal!

Of course, Mat quickly found his way to where you were sitting to jump up against the glass in front of you, giving you one gleaming smile before being surrounded by his teammates.

The rest of the game went on in their favor- they got another goal, with Mat assisting, ended up winning, and you couldn't be prouder.

You stood outside the hall to the locker room waiting for Mat, something you hadn’t previously been able to do without rumors spreading, and flipped between scrolling through Instagram and checking on your Snapchat- your friends were going crazy, especially the ones who didn’t know about your relationship with your “famous boyfriend”. Most of the recent posts about the game were about just that- the game, but a few made you stop and smile. The fans who had been to the game were informing everyone else about how ‘He seemed to stay in one specific area of the rink during warmups, and kept smiling up at somewhat body, obviously his girlfriend’.  Someone, who was apparently standing by the glass and pretty close to you, had gotten a picture of Mat during warmups when he was smiling at you, both of your faces visible and smiling. You immediately liked it, and looked through the comments, wondering if they’d look at your profile and piece together that Mathew Barzal’s girlfriend liked the post. The comments were all so sweet, but one in particular stuck out to you.

‘wow, I can actually see the love on their faces.’

You reloaded the page with a smile on your face when you saw that the Islanders posted an interview. It was Mat, looking tired and pink-faced, running his hand through his dark hair, still wet from his shower. He was looking at the off-camera interviewer. “We’ve covered the game, but I’m sure there’s something else on some fans' minds right now. A week ago, maybe, you mentioned someone in an interview..?” A small smile split across Mat’s face- he knew what they were about to ask. 

“Y/N?” The interviewers seemed to nod off-screen.

“I’m sure some people would just like some clarification on that if you’d like.” Your heart fluttered as Mat made direct eye contact with the camera.

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.” He couldn’t contain the little laugh that burst from his lips, just overjoyed to say those words on camera. “For almost a year. We kept it quiet for a while, but...” He trailed off, shrugging, and you could see other interviewers smiling. Of course they were, Mat’s smile was contagious. “She was here tonight. She usually is.” He let out a breathy, quiet laugh again. “I really think she’s my good luck charm. She makes me better. So much better. She's my better half.” He reached up to run a hand through his damp hair, a soft red flush on his cheeks and a soft smile permanently plastered on his lips. “I really love her. That’s it.” 

“We can see that.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest as you looked through the comments- there were so many sweet praises to your relationship. ‘I knew something was up with Barzy recently!’ and ‘I can tell he really loves her’ and ‘Aw, he’s so sweet! He must make such a great bf!’. 

You had just started to type out a reply to the last comment when you heard steps approaching you. “There you are, baby.” You looked up to see Mat approaching you, hair all wet and dark and cheeks still red, from smiling or just the shower he took, you didn’t know. You gladly let yourself be pulled into his side, wrapping your arms around him quickly, easily, and leaning up to meet him for a kiss. Some of his teammates cheered and gave his back a thump as they passed the two of you, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You did great, Mat.” 

“Only because you were here, my pretty good luck charm.” He smiled against your hair and gave you one last kiss before lacing your fingers together and pulling you along to head to the car. “How do you like finally being known as ‘Barzy’s girlfriend’?” 

“It’s great, Mat. You’re great.” 

“Not as great as you.” You gave his side a squeeze and glanced back down at your phone, finally sending in your reply to the comment, feeling completely confident in your answer. “Hey, get this, apparently literally everyone can tell we’re in love? Like, they can see it on our face or something?”

“So I’ve heard.” You smiled up at him, just genuinely so so so happy to call him yours.

“Yeah? Maybe we should date.” You raised your eyebrows at him with a smile, and he laughed at his own stupid joke, hearty and loud and beautiful and just like him. You put your phone away and wrapped his arm around your waist. Interlocking his fingers with yours, you leaned your head onto his chest, walking in the comfortable aftermath of his giggles and letting your reply on the Instagram post linger in your mind.

‘Yeah, he is the best.’

[from-a-reckless-writer]

Okay so I wrote a thing. Well. Actually I got a writing prompt and thought hey, why not? And SO JUST A HEADS-UP THO, THIS ISN'T SIX RELATED LIKE ALL OF MY OTHER POSTS THIS IS JUST ME WRITING A SHORT STORY AND SEEING HOW IT GOES. SO YEAH. btw, @timetoriseabove thanks for the push.

HERE GOES NOTHING...

Who? Who could I call?

I looked at the time, 2 fucking o’clock in the morning. What a great time to deal with this kind of bullshit. So right, who could I call? I can’t call Dad, because if I call Dad I’m pretty sure that in less than 30 minutes the whole family would know what kind of shit I landed myself in again. No, actually not just my family but our entire family tree including that one cousin I hate. I also can’t call Joel, if I call Joel and then he would tell Dad and again, we can’t let Dad know. Oh I know! I could call Aunt Hazel, after all she’s my favorite aunt for a reason.

We can’t call Aunt Hazel, remember that incident last Sunday, the one where you played your I’m-Your-Favorite-Niece-So-Please-Help-Me Card?

Fuck, right I forgot about that, and yeah Aunt Hazel has done me way too many favors, more than I can count. How about Cathy though? I could call Cathy right? No, no, I can’t call Cathy because Cathy’s got a flight tomorrow and that flight was the sole reason why we went celebrating and what inevitably landed me here. So yes, call Cathy and tell her it’s her fault.

You do know it’s not her fault right? How about you call Ben?

Right, Ben have I mentioned Ben? See, Ben was actually the first choice I had in mind, before remembering that yeah, I never really did choose Ben first. Ben. Ben, who is the perfect person to call right now because Ben wouldn’t call my dad and tell my whole family. Ben, who would know what information he has to write down in the forms because he goddamn knows everything about me. Ben, who wouldn’t mind doing me a hundred favors. Ben, who I haven’t talked to in 2 months. My Ben-“So uhm, did you finally reach your emergency person?” my train of thought was cut down when the nurse cleared her throat and spoke to me, the police officer behind her also waiting for my response. God, who knows how long I’ve been here, surrounded by white tiles, blue curtains and the smell of hospitals that makes you sad. “Uh yeah, yeah I know who to call, he’ll be here in a minute.” The nurse nods and they both leave while I try to process the words I had just said. I don’t know who to call, fuck! I can’t believe this, I’m hiding again, hiding the pain. The shock actually came first before the pain, the pain that slowly seeped in and then the fear, because-God, that is way too much blood.

I take a deep breath, grab my phone and finally dialed a number

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hello?” I groggily answer, I didn’t look at the caller I.D because who the fuck calls at, I steal a glance at the clock on my nightstand-at 2 fucking 15 a.m-what the hell?

“Ben-“ one word, just one syllable really and I instantly know who was calling, Grace. Just like that, all traces of my sleepiness was gone. My mind instantly counted how long it has been since I last spoke to her. Two months, five days and-yeah it was probably a bad idea, but this was Grace. Grace! Godsake it only took one second for her to mess up his life again.

“Hi-uh-you there? Uh I’m sorry to call you I know it’s the middle of the night and-“ she mumbles, “Grace what is it?” I cut her off. “I uhm-I’m in the hospital.” I freeze “What? What hospital?” I’m fully awake now, immediately dressing up and instantly grabbing my green jacket in a hurry. I quickly get my keys, lock the door and by the time Grace has told me the full directions to the hospital, I was already starting up my car.

Just like that, just one word from Grace and all my attention is back on her. Everything is revolving around her again.

What do you mean again? “Again” is a word that implies you stopped. But you never really did stop did you?

“Hey, I’m really really sorry to bother you, promise it won’t take long. I just need someone to assist with the med forms and you can go quickly-“ Grace said through the phone, she was rambling, apologizing but there was something different in her voice. Hesitation maybe? “I promise it’s going to be quick and you don’t have to worry at all.”

I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, me or you.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hello,” he answered groggily. God Ben, do you always have to answer this quick? You didn’t even give me time to breathe.

It only took a couple of words from me and suddenly I can hear rustling from the other end. I can picture him, immediately grabbing his green jacket. His green jacket that I’ve worn way too many times, hung inside his room, his room that I’ve also been to, way too many times.

I hear the jangle of his keys and just like that my heart is beating even faster now. What will I say to him? I am so not ready for this. Hey thanks for saving my ass yet again? Thanks for doing this even if you shouldn’t really be doing this?

“Hey Grace you still there?” he asked, “Yeah, yeah I’m still here.”

He asked, and I can hear the fear in his voice. You know Ben, I can feel it too the fear, and I keep fearing that my answer to your question will always be “I’m here.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When I got out of the car, I went straight to the Emergency Room. There was a nurse near your bed and a police officer and the driver of the car that hit you. He looked young, like really young. He looked like he would shit his pants if I told his Dad that his car hit somebody.

When the officer saw me then the nurse and then you. They started to talking to me and handed me papers but it was hard to take my eyes off of you. There was a bandage wrapped around your entire left leg. A few bruises on your arm and a small cut under your eye. You looked bad. So bad that I now realize why you called me first. Yeah, because I know that you don’t want your family to know. I know so many things about you, but right now I don’t know what to say to you.

Because what the fuck do you say in a situation like this?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Step.

Dizzy.

Step.

Head-spinning.

Step-

Flashing lights-

Whoosh! BANG!

Oh, shit.

Pain-

Pain-

Black.

“Here, coffee.” You gave me the cup, it tasted bland. Oh god, don’t even try to complain that it doesn’t taste like coffee. I know that you got the coffee from the vending machine down the hall. I don’t know what to say, because what to say in a situation like this? You can’t joke lightly, you can’t hug him, you can’t touch him. I can’t do anything right.

“Thank you-“ I started, “Pfft-it’s just coffee you don’t have to thank me.” you answer, you’re wearing the green jacket.

“No-I mean for coming and helping me and everything.” The coffee was hot that was why my hands were sweating. The coffee, not because he’s near me again and not because he’s running his fingers through his hair. It is also not because of the fact that you’re trying to avoid my eyes.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

There are 120 tiles inside this room.

Yeah because counting tiles is more interesting than her? Very convincing Ben.

“Why were you out so late? Why didn’t you just sleep at Cath’s?”

“Peter was there, it was their last night before Cath flies out tomorrow. I wanted them to-“

“Yeah, of course that’s it. Of course you want them to have that moment.” You sigh and shake your head.

“ You never drink.”

“What? Am I not allowed to drink all of a sudden?”

“You’re not allowed, if it’s just going to land you in situations like this! And I end up the one to pick it all over again, clean the mess!”

Whoa, and I thought breaking my left leg was painful enough, I guess it’s not. I stay quiet at your little outburst, I can hear you breathing heavily, I can hear you breaking.

“Then you shouldn’t have come.” I finally say.

“Then you shouldn’t have answered the phone in the first place.” I finish.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“I can’t.” I answer her.

I can’t because if I don’t come then, Grace that means it’s over.

“You didn’t really mean it like that, do you?”

“Mean what?” I ask playing innocent.

“It’s a quarter past 3.” There you go again, changing the subject, running, hiding. That’s what you like, that’s what you were good at. Asking me vague questions and giving me vague answers. Well, now it’s my turn to give you vague answers, it’s my turn to ask you vague questions.

“Grace what’s gonna be the ending?” I ask.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“The sun will rise.”

I answer, I never really liked giving straightforward answers. I prefer the safety of mysteries and vagueness. But of course you already know that. You know everything. That’s why you asked me that question.

So, how will this end? I never liked these kind of situations, because they require the truth.

I never did like truths. But I guess a part of me doesn’t want to answer because maybe, I don’t want it to end. Not yet anyway. What I said was true though, the sun will rise and a new dawn will break. I wonder where will we find ourselves then?

SO YEAH IF U REACHED THIS PART THANK YOU FOR READING. LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS, OR IF I SHOULD STOP, IF U WANT TO GIVE ME A PROMPT. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU GUYS.

Love from a reckless writer. 😘

[letmewritefanfiction]

The Oscar for prettiest girlfriend goes to…

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Word count: 1891

Summary: You and Ben have been dating in secret for months. But now you’re up for an Oscar, and maybe it’s time to tell the world?

Warnings: none really? Ben Hardy being a cutie maybe. And this is not beta’d.

You took one last look at yourself in the full-length mirror in your hotel room. You tried your best to smile at your reflection, but your stomach was to full of nerves. This was your first time at the Oscars, and you were actually nominated for best actress in a supporting role! It was a huge deal, and you had to look your best. The dress you were wearing was both bigger and heavier than you were. It was deep red, a colour you had never thought you suited until your stylist had forced you to try the dress on. Now, you kind of never wanted to take it off. You felt like a princess.

“Y/N? We have to go!” the voice of your manager, Charlotte, called through the door.

“Coming!” you called back, and walked to the door as quickly as you could in you sky high heels and gigantic skirt. The dress was floor length, even in your heels, with red lace covering the whole thing. The bodice was tight fit, off the shoulders, and the skirts busted out from a little above your hips. It was so stunning you didn’t want to sit down or do anything in fear of ruining it. A long with your manager and your body guard, Simon, you made your way out of the hotel, towards the limo.

“Y/N L/N! I thought that was you!” you looked to you left, and saw Olivia Coleman walking towards another car.

“Olivia!” You smiled, and embraced your fellow actress.

“You look, wow! I love what you have done with your hair!” Olivia said. You blushed and thanked her. You were eternally grateful for your make-up artist, Sam. The two of you had been friends since 2011, when Sam first did your make-up in your first movie. Now, Sam had styled your Y/H/C hair in the perfect style that matched your dress perfectly. Sam was truly a gem.

“Good luck tonight!” You said to Olivia, as the two of you were ushered into different limos. You enjoyed the drive to the award show. You had a class of champagne with your staff, and went over what you would say in your acceptance speech, if you won. You pulled up to the red carpet, and gratefully accepted the hand of your bodyguard to get out of the car. Charlotte quickly made sure your dress was trailing out behind you in the right way, before nodding to you.

“Remember, talk to as many people as possible. And smile, smile, smile, dear. I’ll be there to move you forward. Always smile. Cameras everywhere. And just remember to keep a good posture, so your dress looks it’s best. You look stunning. Now, walk,” Charlotte instructed, before gently pushing you towards the beginning of the carpet.

There were flashing lights and cameras everywhere. People were shouting to you from all over. For every few steps, a few more before you posed, and smiled, and smiled, and smiled. Your cheeks were hurting, but you felt gorgeous anyway. As you walked, you greeted a few fellow actors and actresses on the way. You even got a hug from Chris Evans.

 “I can die happy now,” you whispered to Charlotte, who rolled her eyes, but still smiled at you.

“Y/N!” an interviewer called out, waving you over. It felt like interview number one million, though it was probably only number seven.

“Hello,” you said with a huge smile to interviewer. The man grinned back. 

“Hi, yourself. First of all, you look stunning!” he began.

“Oh, thank you! I love your suit as well,” you said back, and it wasn’t really a lie. It was a nice, black velvet suit. A little excessive for a interviewer, but you do you.

“So, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. Hollywood’s new favourite girl. I must ask, how does it feel to go from (Hometown) in (home country), to the biggest award show in the world?”

“I-I’m not sure,” you laughed. The interviewer joined. “I suppose it is this constant feeling of this all being a dream, and that I’ll just wake up one day, and be back in my bed at home. It’s-it’s a very surreal feeling to be here, for sure,”

“Yes, I can see that. Now, I must ask you, though I’m sure you’ve been asked this many times before. But how was it for you, to play a lesbian, and to also play the daughter of such an amazing actor as-“ suddenly something caught your eye, and your attention was quickly diverted away from the interviewer, who kept talking about your on-screen father. Walking down the carpet, being taken photos of, were the stars of Bohemian Rhapsody. Joe Mazzello, Gwilym Lee, Allen Leech, and last but not least, Ben Hardy. Aka, your boyfriend of four months. Not that anyone knew that, except for a few of your closest friends and family.

“Sorry, I just have to go really quick. I’ll be right back,” you said, cutting of the interviewer mid-sentence. Before Charlotte could ask what you were doing, you had set of power-walking down the carpet as quickly as possible. You moved around another actress you vaguely recognized, before coming face to face with Ben. At first it didn’t seem like he realized it was you. Then, his face brightened up in a massive grin.

“Y/N!” Ben said, before putting his arms around your waist, and picking you up. You laughed as you hugged him, and spun half a circle around. Ben put you down again, and you couldn’t help but beam at him.

“You look stunning,” he said with a smile, not loud enough to be heard by any of the interviewer now shouting questions as you. Suddenly remembering that you weren’t alone, you let go of Ben, and took a few steps back.

“Not so bad yourself,” you said with a kind smile, though you could see the slight hurt from when you pulled away. You mouthed sorry to him, just as Joe, Allen and Gwilym caught up with you.

“Y/N! Hi, wow!” Joe said, smiling at you, before giving you a hug.

“Joe, hi!” you answered, before moving on to hug the others to. You had met the boys some six months ago, when their press tour for Bohemian Rhapsody, and the press tour for your movie, had been in the same place at the same time. You and Ben had hit it of immediately, but that didn’t mean you weren’t friends with the other to.

“Y/N,” you looked over at Charlotte, you gently tapped the watch on her wrist. You nodded.

“I need to go. See you in there! Good luck!” You said, smiling at them. Ben caught your eyes, and smiled sadly, before you turned and walked away. Not exactly the time for feelings.

You were sat with your co-stars, your director and a few others who were related to your movie. They had just finished calling out the names of all the nominees for your category, best actress in a supporting role.

“And the winner is…” You held your breath. This was it. You looked up at the host. He opened his mouth, “Y/N L/N, for We will meet again!”

You froze for a second. Then your co-star, Aiden Turner pulled you out of you chair, and hugged you.

“Amazing!” the Irish man said with a grin, as you let go to hug others. Your brain was trying to process it all. You had won! Once the hugs were done, you were lead onto the stage. On the way, you passed Ben, who sent you the biggest smile, and applauded along with everyone else. You accepted the little statue, and turned to the mic.

“Wow, I cannot believe this is real,” you began, before pouring your heart into your well-practiced speech. Afterwards, you were lead into a room to take pictures and answer questions. It was all quite surreal. But here you were. It had happened, this was real.

Everything after that passed super quickly. You were thrilled when Rami won best actor, and when Olivia won best actress. After the show, you left, taking the limo back to the hotel. As soon as you unlocked your door, a pair of hands grabbed yours, and pulled you inside. Before you could say anything, a pair of lips met your own.

“Hey, you,” you said with a smile as you pulled away from Ben.

“Hey, princess,” he grinned before kissing you again. You laughed against his lips. God, you had missed him by your side tonight. And you told him that.

“We could just go public, you know,” he said, looking at you. But you shook your head.

“You know how I feel about having everyone all up in our business,” you said, and he nodded.

“I know, babe. But, I think it’s my business to get you out of this dress. It’s far too much fabric,” he told you with a large grin. You shook your head and laughed, but there were no protests when he began pulling at the zipper on the back. Instead you began unbuttoning his shirt, not really caring that you should be changing for the after party.

The next day the two of you spent in bed. There was no need to get up, so why bother? Ben was tracing figures into the back of your thigh, as you were scrolling through twitter.

“People won’t shut up about Lady Gaga and Bradley Coopers performance last night,” you said to Ben, who nuzzled your cheek.

“There was a lot of chemistry there though,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah, poor Irina,” you said and he laughed. You read on, “Oh! Listen here. Y’all keep talking about Lady Gaga an B Cooper, but did anyone see Ben Hardy and Y/N L/N? And another, Ben Hardy lifting up Y/N L/N and spinning her vs Lady Gaga staring into B Coopers eyes. We really supposed to think none of them are dating, yeah right.”

“What about us?” Ben asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice. You clicked on the hashtag for your own name. There were a lot of people congratulating you on your victory, but also some saying you had robbed others.

“This one, hear. Y/N L/N really out here living everyone’s dream, hugging Ben Hardy. Oh, and more. Y/N L/N is the most relatable celebrity, because I to would run up and hug Ben Hardy if I ever saw him,” you loved reading these things out loud. It made you feel good to know that people thought this about you and your boyfriend.

“Haha, listen to this one.” You continued. “Y/N L/N just up and left her interview to hug Ben Hardy and that is such a mood, you have no idea. And, this is my favourite. Everyone saying Y/N L/N is so luck for hugging Ben Hardy? Bitch, please, Ben is lucky to even touch our queen Y/N!” You laughed, and Ben joined you.

“I am luck, aren’t I? Also, people are so weird,” he whispered, and you turned your head to look at him.

 “Yeah, they are. But you’re not,” you said, and smiled as he kissed your lips softly.

 “I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “I’m dating an Oscar winner, amazing!”

 You laughed sarcastically. 

 “I love you to, dork.”

[cottonwren]

A Well Dressed Woman | Part 5

Summary: A jewish legend and a mysterious letter

The races had been over a month ago, and business for Jamie was booming. Cocaine sales were up by fifty percent, and she was on the verge of making a deal with the king of Camden town. Alfie Solomons would be one of the most beneficial partners in a long time, and he had close links to Thomas Shelby. She pretended not to notice the fact that he was, but Jamie hoped to god that it brought them back into contact.

“Ms. Pine, Mr Solomons is here for a meeting” Samson announced after knocking on the door of her office. He was intimidated by the man rambling beside him, and he was sure that Jamie would knock him down a peg. It’s probably what he liked most about her.

“Let him in, Samson, thank you” Jamie smiled, her desk clear of any paper, leaving only her pen out in the open. In her home office, she had a framed picture of herself and Linn together, but in public, she couldn’t let her sentimentalism show. Any feelings of love were seen as weakness, and Jamie only knew because she used them herself upon occasion. Mostly she just used brute force and blackmail, only good things, obviously.

“Shalom, Ms.” Alfie bellowed, opening his arms and then taking a seat, resting his hands on the desk, his cane leaning on the fine oak desk. “Shalom” He repeated after not getting instantly gratified with a reply.

“Shalom, Mr Solomons” Jamie smiled, shaking his hand politely “Have you had time to come to a decision over my proposition?”

“I have. I have also had time to do my research about you, Ms. My good friend, Thomas Shelby, tells me that he and you are business partners. Now, Thomas Shelby, OBE, MP, all those fucking titles he likes to call himself, will betray anyone for an extra sixpence. He’s betrayed me a couple times, and I have betrayed him in turn, which is by the by, but why are you so special? He even betrays the ones he fucks, so it can’t be that” Alfie rambled, looking her in the eye, making wild gestures with his hands.

“For once, Tommy Shelby has used his common sense, and realised that of all the people to try and turn over, I am not the one to pick” Jamie replied, making direct eye contact with him “Probably because he got to know me well enough during our meetings to understand that I am as mad as a shithouse rat”

“Sane enough to capitalise on cocaine, eh? Funny how your competition’s all gone missing, isn’t it, pet?” Alfie hummed, scratching his head. His comment on her competition didn’t please her at all. The snow business was hers and hers alone, and there were many reasons why that was.

“They came for my head, and so they went missing. Correlation isn’t always causation, Mr Solomons, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were insinuating something. Someone clever I once knew very closely saw it as a threat” Jamie told him, folding her arms on the desk.

“Bet that someone also had sapphire blue eyes. Sees everything as a threat, though, doesn’t he? It’s why he likes you so much, fucking hell. Dealing with proper insanity, I am” He groaned, realising that he should have heeded every warning Tommy had given him, even though they were vague and somewhat jokey “So, pet, the deal”

“My name is Pine - they both start with P but I assume you’re smart enough to understand that not all things with alliteration are the same thing, which is why I’m not calling you Arsehole” Jamie smiled with all the honesty of a conman “The deal is that you let my boys sell in Camden, and you let them sell to your employees”

“And I get twenty five percent of your cut?” Alfie completed, taken aback by her statement. Was she actually insane? Like… actually insane? “Got a brave mouth, you have”

“And a brave trigger finger to follow, Mr. Solomons” Jamie reminded him strictly “You get twenty of the cut I receive from your men.”

“We have a deal. You got an accountant for me to deal with?” He asked, “Or are you the accountant, Ms. Pine?”

“The accountant is this way, I’ll lead you. The Pine Pharmacutical company is a family business, you see.” She explained, getting up from her desk. Jamie walked towards her door “Well?”

“I’m coming, Ms. Pine. Do you make everyone call you that?” Alfie asked, getting up and catching up with her, following her down the hallway.

“No, my accountant calls me by my first name in private.” Jamie smirked, looking over her shoulder to check he was following her.

“Your accountant’s fucking related to you, though. Your good friend Mr. Shelby calls you your first name, doesn’t he? Wouldn’t tell me it, though. Is it embarrassing? Bet it’s Beatrice, or something of the sort” Alfie huffed, his cane tapping on the wood floors “Dark wood. Smart idea. Sabini has carpets - gets them replaced every time blood is spilt, which makes no fucking sense to me”

“Mr Shelby is persistent, and also no part of this deal, Mr Solomons. No-one has died in my offices, and if they were, it would be taken care of before blood could drip onto any of my flooring. Wood is just a style choice.” Jamie explained, knocking on the accountant’s door and then walking through.

“Ms. Pine, could you process a deal for myself and Mr. Solomons?” Jamie asked, then welcomed Alfie in.

“It’d be my pleasure, take a seat” Linn smiled, making eye contact with Alfie.

“See, I already like her more” Alfie nodded, sitting down and beginning to talk to Linn “But, question is, is she going to tell me her name?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Linn smirked “The answer is no, but it starts with L, as it says on my door. Maybe a little more observancy would help you out?” She smiled, liking his coarse accent and wiry beard.

“I ain’t Sherlock, pet” Alfie chuckled, noticing that this office was a lot more homey than the business woman’s.

“Explains a lot” Linn joked, looking at him with a tentative smile.

--------

A few weeks after Alfie had shown up and business was booming up again for the Pines, Alfie not betraying them, probably because he was too busy with his weekly check in with Linn. Jamie, to say the least was pissed off. The deal was beneficial to the business so much that cancelling it just because she was concerned about his feelings towards her little sister was off of the table. If word got out she’d look unstable - she’d worked hard to get into the respectable position that she was in, and high class business men were like vultures, ready to peck at any exposed flesh.

“Ms Pine, a letter has come for you” Samson came in with a neat letter, placing it on her desk and nodding at her before walking back out.

Jamie really had no idea what she’d do without Samson - he was her first ever employee, and a few years younger than her. He was the son of the woman who owned the left building of their offices, and he had desperately needed a job. He was a loyal lad, and she appreciated his devotion. She’d met his wife and children a few times, and would send the child a christmas present every year. Jamie was touched to find out that she and Linn were referred to as the child’s aunts.

She looked at the plain white envelope, intrigued by the six letters on the back. ‘J.L.Pine’ Jamie laughed softly when she realised who it must be from - who she hoped it would be from, anyway. She’d been hoping for any type of correspondence, even though her life would be a lot easier without Tommy, without every night she slept filled with his tailored suits, sometimes specifically the lack of them.

‘Jamie,

           We have unfinished business, meet me at the Garrison, Tuesday 11am.

T. S.’

A breath she didn’t know she was holding escaped her mouth, her face breaking into a grin as she bounced her feet off of the floor repeatedly. So long without anyone to actually annoy and be annoyed back, she was longing for something, anything. Tommy Shelby was a bad, capitalistic man, and she wanted nothing more than to tell him that.

“Oh, no.” Linn groaned as she stepped in and drew the blinds. “Tommy?”

“Tommy. Wants me to meet him” Jamie nodded, smiling at her. She was fucking ecstatic to say the least, stretching upwards and flexing like a cat to exert only a small, minute fraction of the energy currently coursing through her veins. “Linn, this is good news! This is amazing news!”

“He could want to kill you, Jamie. Men like him are unpredictable in the most predictable way, please tell me you’re at least going in there with a gun. And a knife” Linn told her, deadpan “I’m happy for you, but you need to be cautious!”

“I’ll take a gun, and two knives, alright? Stop worrying!”

“Also, remember that thing you said about not being in love with him? Hm? What we saying about that now, Miss Jamie Leanne Pine?” Linn teased, sitting down at her desk “So, when am I becoming an auntie? If it’s a girl name it after me”

“I’m not in love! I just like his company whilst pretending not to, alright?” Jamie defended, crossing her arms, slouching back into her chair. “He’s also very pretty”

“Fucking hell” She muttered, running a hand through her hair “Fucking hell”

“Hey, bet you think Solomons is pretty, don’t you, pumpkin?” Jamie teased.

“Don’t go there! Yes.” Linn huffed with a smug smile. “Alfie is… strange. I like him”

“Aw, is my baby experiencing her first romantic attraction? Please say no, I genuinely want to behead him and cut off his legs” Jamie smiled.

“Please don’t, I like him” Linn whined softly, taking her hand over the desk “He’s nice! Would you rather I find someone who’s a dick?”

“Which is exactly why, pumpkin” Jamie told her with a smile “If he hurts you, they won’t find enough parts of his body to put in a coffin or to identify his body. Now let’s get you home, right?”

“Alright, mum”  Linn smiled, then pinked. The last time she’d called Jamie mum was on accident, and she was about thirteen.

“C’mon then” Jamie smiled, noticing the slip up but not acknowledging it, just pulling on her coat “You got your coat, love?”

[lore-a-lie]

Bonus Chapter: Artificial Intimacy

Love Hotel

Miu wasn’t sure where she was at first. As much as she loved the color pink, and its butch big brother red, she definitely didn’t have this much of it in her bedroom last she checked. The hearts everywhere were also preeetty weird now that she thought about. Until like clockwork things worked into place.

Oh DUH! How could a gorgeous girl genius like me ever forget? I mean I’ve never been invited to somewhere like this before. C-certainly never by someone like… Him. Oh wow. Oh god, this is happening. I mean… There’s only ONE reason he’d ever want to meet up in a fuckin’ love hotel right?! BOOYAH! SUCK ON THAT FUCKIN’ V-CARD, YA FINALLY GOING TO GET PUNCHED TONIGHT! Unless I fuck this up.

No time to waste thinking like that! Who knows when he was finally going to show up. She had to make sure she got everything right tonight. Too big a step forward for him, for them, to risk slipping up.

Oh god, I thought of us as like a THING. ...Are we a thing? GAH, why can’t this virgin be more explicit!? … In more ways than one. Whooo boy this is gonna get freaky one way or another ain’t it?  Don’t screw up.

After a few minutes setting herself in all the ways she assumed she had to she finally heard the jiggling of the doorknob. Kibo looked nearly as red as the room as he took in everything around her as he finally approached Miu. He had that dazed and dopey look on his face like he was confused, so he prolly didn’t even bother scoping out this joint before he offered to pay for this. Fuckin’ typical ain’t it? (Of course my sweetheart’s the type to get too embarrassed to make sure he was doing this right… oh god, I called him “sweetheart”. Damn, I got it bad. B-but at least I’m not the only one, since we’re here now!... Right?)

And like a typical herbivore guy it looked like her little buddy was going to need her to step up as a carnivore gal and make the first move. Again. God, he’s lucky he’s so cute. She could just eat him up.

“Hey, Kibo~” She crooned, which startled him enough to make the poor boy jump as he gave her his complete attention.

“Y-yes Miu? Sorry if I seemed distracted, I wasn’t expecting that key to unlock a room like this.”

“Yeah Kibo, that’s kinda what keys do. A hotel can’t just keep doors unlocked, especially not around here ya know? Waaay too many free shows if you catch my drift.” A look on his face showed he did in fact not catch her drift at all. Miu really couldn’t tell if this was a good or bad thing for them anymore. “Anyways, I got some fan-fuckin’-tastic news that’s sure to put a smile on that mug of yours.”

“I have a mug?” Kibo asked as he looked down as if expecting to find a literal mug in his hands.

“Yeah, doi. I mean your face! But since we’re childhood friends you’re getting an exclusive inside scoop! Now doesn’t that make you feel special?” She continued despite his silly pun. But hearing her tell him the obvious (as always) made his antenna stand to attention, like he was surprised enough to frazzle his systems.

“Huh?!”

“What do you mean “huh”? “Huh” about what?” (Oh god I fucked up! Where did I fuck up?! Fuuuck.)

“N-nothing. I’m all ears Miu, honest! Metaphorically I mean.” He assured her, as he briefly ran a hand over his headphone like "ear" surrogates at his own joke.

“Good! So about this news…” Miu started before her nerves finally got the better of her. Again. Well so much for keeping her momentum going. This was going to be an embarrassing, annoying, awkward failure of a night if she couldn’t get control of this! (Not to mention what it could do to our friendship)

“Are you alright Miu? You aren’t looking well.” Kibo asked, the perfect picture of a concerned friend. At least she figured he was. He had to be! It’s not like she had many other friends to compare with though. (More like “any other friends”. Why did I think I could do this? What am I saying of course I can do this!)

“Y-yeah, I’m fine! It’s just… Y-Y-Y-youuuu…” (COME ON GIRL SAY IT! BOY NEEDS OUR CONSENT FIRST!)

“... Me?”

“Yeah, you! Y-you can… have your way with me tonight. If you still want to.” Miu tried again, but as she got more of the words out they started to trail off until they were barely a whisper. Hopefully, he still heard her.

“Uhhh, Miu?”

“Yeah, come on you heard me, didn’t you! Don’t be a fuckin’ tease! I said you can have me any way you want me tonight!” (please don’t say no please don’t say no please don’t say no)

“I know! I heard you. But… I’m not sure I understand what you want from me?” Kibo was nearly the color of the room again, and so honestly confused she really felt bad for letting her embarrassment make her yell at him like that. It’s not like he hasn’t always been like this. But normally it’s a part of his charm.

“W-what’s not to understand?”

“I-I mean this is so sudden, and if you are referring to… sexual relations, you know I’m not really… Equipped for such activities.” Kibo confessed as he poked his fingers together and screwed his eyes shut. (... Ohhhh right. Whoops. Well, he still has fingers, and I’m sure they gotta have at least one dildo in a joint like this! Why oh why did I ever leave that fun purple one at home?)

“O-oh. Sorry, Kibo. It’s just… I wanna... thank you, you know?”

“Thank me? But you’ve been the one doing so much to help me, shouldn’t I be thanking you?” (ONLY IF IT MEANS YOU’LL FINALLY FUCK ME! No god no Miu don’t say that, that’s not working here at allll.)

“I-I mean, parts or no parts you’re still a man, right? And what’s a better reward for a guy than letting you touch this slammin’ sexy-ass body of mine any way you want!?”

“... So you want me to touch you… Any way I want?"  Kibo murmured with a contemplative look as his gaze flickered between Miu's face, the floor, and her hands on the mattress. But before Miu could tease him he cut himself off with a shake of his head. "N-no wait, but what are you trying to thank me for?”

“Huh? Jeez Kibo, you really are clueless sometimes, you know that? And you call yourself my childhood friend!?”

“... Do I call myself your childhood friend? Sorry, but I really don’t understand what you are referring to.” (OUCH and Kibo goes straight for the burn! And he prolly doesn’t even know he did it, what a nerd.)

“N-no laughing okay?”

“Affirmative, whatever is distressing you so is hardly a laughing matter.” (FUCK HE’S TOO CUTE DAMNIT!)

“... No shouting at me either?” Miu shyly mumbled as she played with her hair, not quite able to meet his gaze anymore.

“Of course, why would I ever do that?” Kibo asked looking sad and terribly confused.

“Okay… Well… Ever since we were kids, Kibo you’ve always taken care of me, y’know?” She began, making Kibo look thoughtful as he prolly started to think on all the times that had happened in their pass. When he gave a satisfied nod, he looked surprisingly serious and subdued as he turned to face her with a smile.

“... Minus the kids part, I could say the same for you. You’ve been a lot of help for me understanding human experiences, and appreciate me for everything that I am.” (... What? C-c’mon, this is totally off the script I had in my head Kibo, why you gotta toss a sappy wrench into things like that!?)

“H-hey, c’mon man, don’t just interrupt a girl like that! J-jeez. I mean… You’ve always s-stayed by my side, no matter what. And here you are, still doin’ that. Always seeing past my act when no one else really tries to. You’re the only one who knows the real me, Kibo.”

Kibo seemed stunned as he processed what she was saying to him so Miu continued on best she could. “If I didn’t have you in my life, I’d prolly be in a gutter or something.”

“I’m fairly certain our other friends would argue your mind still finds a way into one regardless.”

“Pfft, yeah guess they would, wouldn’t they?”

... Wait, friends? N-no that’s right, we do have other friends! What on earth was I thinking!? Boy, this place kinda puts your brain on a bender doesn’t it? Something about the lights or the spinning maybe? Ooooh, pink lights that make you super horny would be a great future project! Gotta remember that.

Even though Miu couldn’t help but laugh at his joke Kibo still didn’t, just like he said he wouldn’t. As always he found a way to help make her more comfortable, and was still looking at her attentively. “You’re the reason I can hold my head up high as the Ultimate Inventor, Kibo. S-so… I wanted to thank you, for everything. B-but you said… you didn’t need my inventions… That I should use them to help other people instead. So I don’t really have anything else to offer you except for… Well, me.”

“Is that really what this is about, Miu?” (How does he always know when I’m making’ up excuses!?)

“F-fine. You got me. What I was really hoping for was… your baby.” She finally stuttered out, to Kibo's blank and vaguely confused expression.

“Uhhh, again I’m afraid I physically can’t do that Miu.” He said with a shrug as he avoided meeting her eyes, probably to keep himself from blushing again.

“WELL YEAH I REALIZE THAT NOW! God, why’d you gotta go and make this more embarrassing!? I just kinda got caught up in the moment before, you know!? I mean with my beauty, brains, and talent, and your winning personality and all around cuteness we coulda totally had the makings of the perfect kid!”

“But wouldn’t having a child out of wedlock make things more difficult for you?” He asked her with genuine concern, despite her ridiculous babbling. (Woah, hold up, is he saying what I think he’s saying?)

“W-what?”

“I mean, if you wanted to raise an offspring with me that means you wished for a future together, right? So wouldn’t it be better to go about things the proper way? For your parents’ peace of mind at least.” He continued with a hand to the chin, like he was seriously contemplating the idea. (Oh god what is happening right now?! MY INNOCENT MAIDEN’S HEART CAN’T TAKE THIS TWIST KIBO!)

“W-what!?”

“As a robot I may not know for sure what “love” feels like, but even I know the way one’s supposed to go about courtship! So if you wish to take me in sickness and in health so that I may better understand it and you then I will by no means object!” He finished looking back up at her with the sort of optimistic confidence in his smile that always made her feel more secure in her ideas. (I JUST WANTED YOU TO TAKE ME! This is too fast! I… Think?)

“Woah, woah, woah Keebs give a girl a minute! I-I mean, if you know how things are supposed to go, shouldn’t I… be your girlfriend first? If… you… really think you need me that much?” Miu offered in a desperate attempt to regain any control of this nearly nonsensical situation.

“O-oh! Right. Sorry, you are correct. To love each other unconditionally and understand each other completely we’d need to go on “dates” to grow even closer before committing our lives to each other.”

“Y-yeah! So… you’re sure you won’t abandon me?”

“Of course I wouldn’t Miu. Why would I have offered this otherwise? I’m not THAT tactless you know.” He objected with a pout, folding his arms.

“... Can we still try to… Do it though?”

“H-hey, wait a minute! I told you I don’t have a-”

“We wouldn’t need anything like that! Don’t you worry 'bout a thing Kibbles, bits or no bits mama knows how to make this work.” Miu assured him. Which seemed to fail, as he missed her point again.

“M-mama!? Would you still want to adopt then? Or perhaps try to… make a robot, like me, to raise?”

“Oh~ Now there’s a thought! That’d be an even easier way to make sure we’d have the perfect child together, wouldn’t it? So let’s just get to the fun part now.”

“... Which would exactly be the “fun” part of this scenario?” Kibo asked as he side-eyed her a little.

“The hot and heavy one~”

“W-wait, you said you wanted me to touch you anywhere I wanted to first right?!”

Surprised by him taking initiative again Miu sat back on the bed, legs spread a little and head cocked, to see what exactly he had in mind. His face was completely red again, little puffs of steam escaping through the ports on his head to try and keep his inner workings cool, as he worked up his resolve.

But as he joined her on the bed he all he did was hold her hand. Like a handshake at first, before she moved them so that their fingers would be intertwined instead. Like she remembered him doing with her so often when they were younger, both unaware of any embarrassment it was supposed to cause.

Miu always enjoyed how surprisingly warm he was. She understood why that was of course, honestly he was normally only about the temperature of the bottom of a laptop, but still. It was so easy to expect someone so metallic and blue to be cold to the touch, no matter how warm their personality was.

“I’m… quite nervous. So would it be alright if we stayed like this for a bit longer? My heart… is at peace right now.”

“Well duh. Of course, we can. We can do anything we want, we’ve got the time.”

“... But you do still want to try something else later.”

“Oooh yeah, these fingers are going to be getting a lot of mileage tonight I promise you that.”

“Okay. Since it’s with you. Then… Please be gentle with me?” Kibo rushed out, more steam puffing out at the admission of what was going to finally happen.

“Alright~ Just remember: Green means “harder”, yellow means “slower”, and red means “stop”.”

“Huh? Wait, Miu what are you talking about?! Y-yellow, yellow!”

Miu woke up the next morning in her dorm as she always did. But something felt different today. Must have been one crazy wild dream she had last night, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what it was about.  Not unusual in and of itself, especially with how much she hated sleeping for long stretches of time, but remembering any of it at all is different. Even if they were more feelings than the content.

Something about lights? Colored lights? Pink, red, yellow, and green, like the ones at a carnival? But what part of a carnival? The carousels spinning? Tunnel of love? Gah, this was going to be driving her crazy!

Kibo was there. She could remember that much clearly, so it had to be a good dream. Hard for things to go wrong with him around. But thinking about it made her hand and face feel warm. Why her hand? And why the hell was she blushing?!

But hanging out with the Keebster after breakfast sounds like as good a plan as any. With all the progress she'd been making on Kaede’s commission she could afford to take a break. Maybe he wouldn't mind keeping her some company when she got back to it too.

But then an odd tablet on her table caught her eye, with a case made to look like it was splattered in paint. Something this suspicious definitely warranted at least a little peek before she left.

Seeing Kibo’s name and talent was weird though, as his “motive” began. But as it continued she really wasn't sure if she should be giving it to him. Best thing to do would be to act like she didn't see anything. That's never failed her in the past when something baffles her brilliant beautiful brain.

Maybe someone else would have a better idea what to do with these things. Like watch ‘em all together or something if they all got one, so her seeing Kibo’s wouldn't matter.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in seeing what made her new friends tick either of course. Beyond what made them ticked off, she was good at finding that one on her own. Except with Kibo, which was nice.

With that in mind, she had a spring in her step as she went off to find her favorite robo-buddy at the dining hall. Hopefully, today would prove to be a good one.

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[namariea]

Hello, Neighbor | III

Since moving in you have compiled a comprehensive list on your mysterious neighbor across the way.

Do Kyungsoo, otherwise known as Asian Bobby Flay and apparently Bruno Mars’ protégé.

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Words: 1.4 k

Genre: Fluff

Previous: I II

You were currently facing a dilemma. 

Brows furrowed, you sat cross-legged on your bed, finger tapping your chin incessantly. In front of you was an array of color swatches, taking turns you would pick up a tone and hold it up to the room, squinting critically before moving on to the next.

The problem before you was which path you wanted to take; a nice champagne, to bring a touch of warmth and brightness to the room? Or maybe emerald to bring out the inner tree hugger you knew was in there somewhere. You always thought oxford blue looked so regal, almost black but gave just enough colour to pass off as artsy if anyone asked. However, you had a soft spot for the vibrant red currently in your hand, for no other reason than why not, it’s your house, why not paint it like a fire truck.

Decisions, decisions. At least this time you weren’t standing in a public place. You could take all the time you needed in the comfort of your own home, not having to worry about employees or wandering customers watching you struggle for hours on end.

After 20 minutes and no closer to coming to a decision, you chanced a look at the clock that hung on the wall and cursed as you realized you were going to be late for work.

Hurriedly abandoning your spot on the bed, you made quick work on getting dressed. As you were changing you continued to debate over your choices. It was becoming apparent that there was only one way you could settle this problem; you needed a second opinion. Quickly sending a picture of the swatches to your brother asking for his input, you stuffed your phone in your pocket and headed out towards the kitchen.

Filling a bowl with cat food, you shook it gently, letting the pellets rattle against the metal. Not hearing anything, specifically, no soft pads of cat feet you gave the bowl a harder shake. No response.

“Oi, tubs, food is ready.”

You were vaguely aware that you shouldn’t be fat shaming your cat, however you remembered the time a pair of cerulean eyes stared at you critically as you ordered jajangmyeon at 2 in the morning. If there was anything you knew, it was that you always gave it back as good as you got, regardless of genus or species.

Still not hearing any movement towards your spot in the kitchen you peeked your head out, looking for any sign of your furry roommate.

A shift in the corner of the living room caught your attention and what you saw was the curve of a fluffy tail flicking from behind the curtains. Strolling over to the windowsill, bowl of cat food in hand you pulled back the curtain with an exasperated sigh.

“Hey fatface, leave the pigeons alone, will you? Even if you could reach them, you wouldn’t be able to waddle fast enough to do-“

“-anything.”

Successfully pulling back the curtain, what was revealed to you was not a pigeon engaged in a staring contest with your cat. What you found instead was the model-like face of your neighbor, making some not-so-model-like faces at your cat.

Oh.

His face was scrunched up, mouth open playfully; you observed his hunched posture by his own window in order to get eye level with the feline. He immediately froze at your entrance, expression not moving except for his eyes snapping up to your own. It was almost comical, if not for the fact that you realized your window was open, as was his. It was bad enough that you fat shamed your cat on a regular basis, but now your charming neighbor had just heard your insulting words of endearment and you could do nothing but blink slowly.

Meow.

You broke eye contact and turned your gaze to the animal that was now staring up at you. Paying half a mind to the man a few feet away, not noticing how his ears were slowly turning red, you addressed the furry blob before you, face deadpan and voice loud enough to carry across to the other apartment.

“Been here a day and you’re already making moves on the neighbors? Shameless.”

A staggered laugh reached your ears and you saw him shake his head, dark tresses fluttering around his face.

“I don’t mind, she has a face that is hard to resist.”  

Ah, his voice was just as lovely normally as it was when he was singing, you noted. Smooth and resonating low you wondered if it was normal for a voice to sound that pleasant. Bringing your attention back to the man you raised an eyebrow and tutted disapprovingly.

“Careful now, she may look harmless but she is a glutton for attention and will never give you a moments peace once you give her the time of day. Expect constant calls from her from now on”

He offered a slight smile and inclined his head, staring at Mimi with amused eyes. 

“I’ll remember that, though I’d be happy to oblige”

Shrugging your shoulders you turned back from the window, having gotten Mimi’s attention with the bowl in your hand, her paw swatting at it.

“By all means be my guest, I’ll send prayers for your sanity.”

Placing the bowl on the floor in the kitchen, you checked your watch and cursed once again. Dashing to your bedroom you grabbed your bag and started stuffing your laptop and workbooks. Swinging it over your shoulder you took one step out of your bedroom before halting, an odd thought coming to you.

You did need a second opinion, and what if your brother had just as bad decision-making skills as you did, you were related after all.

Making a last minute decision, you grabbed a scrap piece of lined paper from your desk and taped the swatches to it. Swiftly walking back to the living room, looking to the apartment across you observed that your neighbor was nowhere to be seen. You remember noticing a white towel thrown over his shoulder; he was probably in the process of also getting ready before he got sidetracked and started making faces at your cat.

Paying no mind to his absence, hoping that he would somehow notice before he left, you taped the paper to the window followed by a neon yellow sticky note above it reading ‘Pick: 1,2,3 or 4’.

You did not know what possessed you to do this, you didn’t know this man, and he had absolutely no reason to answer your strange request. However after your brief banter, you were in high spirits, and judging by the exchange you had a strange feeling he would respond.

With that, you left your apartment and made your way towards the elevator, briefly think about how that was the first real conversation you had with your elusive neighbor. It was short, but nevertheless welcomed, however you had a feeling that he was not the type of person to start up spontaneous conversations with strangers, much less conversing out a window 5 floors from the ground with strangers living in the building next door.

The thought made you frown slightly, as you realized that such a conversation would probably not happen again.

But that didn’t stop the small voice at the back of your head hoping that it would.

3

So he was oxford blue kind of guy, who would have guessed.

Once you arrived home that evening, you had almost forgotten about the consultation taking place on your window. Despite the sun still hanging above the horizon and painting the city in its setting glow, his curtains were pulled closed, making the bright orange sticky note contrast against the dark fabric behind it.

You nodded pensively at the response, half-amused that he actually responded to your antics, much less taking the time to come to a verdict. The gesture made you smile as you pulled the paper and sticky note off the window, taking the selected swatch and throwing the rest in the recycling bin. You started wistfully at the red paper as it fluttered into the bin, almost sad to watch it go.

I’ll just by a red chair or something.

Tomorrow was the weekend, meaning that you would be able to go out and get the paint as well as any supplies you would need. The thought of being able to get started painting made your spirits lift significantly. You always enjoyed painting, something about it was so relaxing. 

In hindsight, that relaxation may simply be the result of overexposure to paint fumes but you waved it off, any opportunity to express your creativity was a plus for you, which was why hours later you all but dove into your sheets, eager for the new day to start.

Chapter IV

[thecousinsdangereux]

Green Envy Prompt - Part II

This is a short continuation of this jealous!Kim + girl!Tommy ficlet because @karatam asked for it and what else am I supposed to do during my lunch break? Eat? How absurd. 

Tommy Oliver is fine.

And yes, Kim does also mean ‘fine’ as in ‘super attractive’, because look, she's big enough to admit that. She's confident enough to not shy away from recognizing that Tommy is tall and beautiful and has flawless skin and cheekbones right out of an issue of Teen Vogue.

That's all totally... fine.

Because hell, Kimberly Hart is fine too, and she knows that as well. And if Tommy wants to do this — some kind of animal kingdom bullshit competition for Trini’s affection — that’s just fine as well. And Kim isn't going to take it lying down.

Even if she is currently lying down.

Face down.

On the floor of the Pit.

With Tommy Oliver on top of her.

And her stupid low voice in her ear.

“Don't beat yourself up about it, Kimberly,” she purrs (purrs!), front pressing into Kim's back. “I'm just really really good at this.”

Kim pretty much snarls at that, but then her reverse headbutt catches Tommy right in the face, which is enough to turn Kim’s expression into something far more smug, especially when she manages to push the other girl off and scramble to her feet.

“Maybe you're not as good as you think.”

Tommy cocks her head and blows a strand of hair out of her face; her tight curls are barely contained by the tie that pulls them back into a loose ponytail, and Kim feels a wave of both irritation and admiration that she manages to make it look so good, bouncing on her feet in an easy boxer shuffle.

“Nah,” she says with a lazy little smile. “I am. And I’ve seen you noticing it, too. You’re not that subtle, babe. Hate to tell you.”

“Right, because you’re the subtle one.” Kim lifts her chin towards Tommy and her stupidly impractical workout clothes (green and tight and tiny are the best three words for them). “Don’t think I don't know exactly what you're playing at.”

“Yeah?’

Tommy’s in front of her in flash, knocking aside the punch Kim instinctively throws, but not retaliating, only leaning in with that same unconcerned grin.

“Then I sure as hell hope you plan on finally doing something about it, because I've been ready since we met, princess,” Tommy breathes, eyes dipping down and then up again.

That’s... a really weird way of putting things and Kim’s in the process of trying to sort it all out when Tommy is suddenly shoved away from her with no small amount of force.

“Hey! You better watch yourself!”

Kim has to blink several times before the scene in front of her starts to make sense, and even then, she’s not exactly sure why she’s staring down at the back of Trini’s head. Or why the girl is using (or… attempting to use) all 5’ 1” of herself to shield Kimberly from Tommy’s reach.

“Woah, Trin,” Zack calls, sliding into view and (for some reason) casting Kim a slightly apologetic look as he tugs gently on Trini’s arms. “I didn’t mean jump in now.”

Billy’s there as well, and then Jason, the former looking quite a bit more baffled than the latter, though still ready to jump in himself, if need be.

“Wait, Jason, who are we defending? Kim, right? Or Trini? Both?”

This level of confusion is definitely something to which Kim can relate, because yeah, she still hasn’t figured this out. She opens her mouth to ask for clarification from someone, but she’s cut off by Tommy, who’s apparently completely unfazed by the commotion going on around her (and in fact seems to be enjoying it).

“Calm down, honeybee.” She winks at Trini, but then looks over the top of her head to meet Kim’s (admittedly now irritated) stare. “If you wanna join in that’s totally fine with me.”

“Oh my god,” Jason groans. “Tommy, seriously, cut it out.”

“What?” Hands held up to the height of her shoulders, Tommy takes a large step back, rolling her eyes at the group. “Y’all need to chill. Look, I know Pink and Yellow are making lemonade, but damn, I just thought they wanted a third.”

“What!?” Trini and Kim’s voices (and their incredulity) blend together pretty much perfectly. Trini actually steps back to Kim’s side, as though physically struck by the implication. (She’s also blushing and definitely avoiding everyone’s gaze. Kim can feel her own cheeks getting hot as well, so… that’s not great.)  

“Holy shit,” Zack stage whispers and Kim would totally smack him for sounding so gleeful if she weren’t still reeling.

Tommy, for her part, actually begins to look slightly less sure about her role in this whole debacle.

“I know you guys are dating,” she reiterates slowly. “I just thought you liked using me to get each other riled up. And that we would all eventually…” She makes some sort of vague hand gesture that Kim has to try very hard not to picture the implications of, and shit, she’s really blushing. “Is that… not what we were doing?”

“Holy shit,” Zack says again.

“No! Trini and I aren’t... dating,” Kim explains, tugging once at the collar of her tank top.

“Wait, really?” It’s Billy who interjects now, his confusion apparently not at all cleared up. “But Jason said that Kim— ”

Jason shushes him rapidly. “Billy!”

“Said that Kim what?” Trini asks, turning to look at Kim with a sort of hesitant smile (though there’s still a definite pink hue to her cheeks).

And okay. This isn’t exactly how Kim had planned on swooping Trini of her feet with a declaration of her affections.

“Oh my god,” Tommy groans, throwing her head back. “Are you kidding me? You know what? I’m out. I’m done for tonight. Sorry boss man, but this…” She waves her hand in between Kim and Trini. “This shit needs to get sorted.”

“Um.” Jason clears his throat, looking sort of wide-eyed between the three girls. “That’s fair.”

Tommy starts to walk backwards towards the entrance. “But hey, once you two get things worked out…” She grins, then spins around to strut out, calling out over her shoulder to finish her thought, “...You know where to find me.”

[iwritefanficnotreality]

1.2 | Losers

The Third Winchester | I.2 | Losers

Summary: Having crash-landed a plane, Alex’s life takes a turn for the stranger. She gets to know the source of her troubles, the two brothers Sam and Dean, and meets their… interesting friend with wings.

Rating: T

A/N: Chapter 2 of my SPN fanfic. Chapter one here. I’d love to hear any comments, criticisms, suggestions, prompts, or a general hello. Hope you enjoy!

“I really need someone to explain what’s going on,” Alex said.

The two brothers, Sam and Dean, were, for the most part, ignoring her. As soon as they’d gotten far enough away from the crashed plane, Dean called someone on a cellphone. Sam was pacing beside him, cutting in whenever a thought popped into his mind.

She’d been patient until now — at least, she’d still been in the “in-shock” phase when the two men had led her out of the plane she’d somehow managed to land, told her to hurry, and led her through middle-of-nowhere Kansas.

But hey, they hadn’t killed her yet. They did keep shooting her bemused looks, though. She tucked her hands in her pockets and followed grudgingly after them.

“Listen, Cas. We’re not that far from the bunker.” Dean rubbed a hand over his chin. “I’ll send you the coordinates. Just pick us up… I’ll tell you when you get here… she’s still with us… I don’t know… ”

Dean was on the phone with a friend, who apparently was close. Alex listened, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She didn’t really have a choice other than to stick with them, seeing as where they were. Besides, if she didn’t get the answers she wanted, it’d drive her crazy for the rest of her life.

“So. Sam, right?” She turned to the taller brother, who she noticed always looked somewhat worried. “Where are you guys from?”

“Around here.”

“Okay… that’s vague. What’s going on?”

Sam didn’t answer, so Alex sucked in a frustrated breath and started to mutter to herself.

“Fine, it’s fine. Just the weirdest day of my life.”

“Cas will be here in about forty-five minutes to pick us up,” Dean said to Sam, sliding his phone into the rear pocket of his jeans.

“And what about her?” Sam nodded to Alex.

“I’m standing right here,” she said.

“What about her?” Dean said. “It’s probably a coincidence.”

“What’s a coincidence?” she said.

Sam looked down at her. “Do you have any family around here?”

“Oh, yes. Let me call my crazy aunt Dorothy who happens to live in Kansas — oh, wait. All my stuff, including my phone, and my wallet, is on the plane. Which I just crashed. Also, you killed the pilot. I’m not going anywhere until you all explain it. And if you’re going to murder me, please just do it.”

“God, she’s annoying.”

Alex flipped him off, and Dean stepped toward her. Sam got in between them.

“Alright, guys. Come on. Something’s going on here.”  Alex and Dean both leaned back, still frowning. “You said your father was John Winchester?”

“Yeah, not that that matters. Like I said, never knew him. He and my mom split before I was born.”

“It’s a pretty common name,” Dean said.

Sam waved him off. “And your mother..?”

“Vera Hardy.” Alex crossed her arms. “I told you about her on the plane. She’s not really there mentally.”

“Vera… I swear that’s familiar,” Sam said. A peculiar look appeared on Dean’s face.

The silence prompted Alex, and she started to unclasp a small, silver locket from her neck. “I doubt you know her. She hardly leaves the house.” She handed it over to Sam. “That’s a picture of her.”

Opening the locket, Sam held it close to his face, then showed it to Dean. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Shit.” Dean grabbed it from Sam, and began trying to peel the picture from the necklace.

“What — hey, careful.” Alex reached out for it, then pulled her hand back. “That’s… it’s important to me.”

Sam glanced up and nodded, before more gently turning it toward the light. “Dean…”

“Nope,” Dean said. “Not possible.”

“We thought that before, but then, ya know. Adam.”

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“Was it?”

Alex snapped. She stepped in front of them and spun on her heel, lifting a finger as threateningly as she could manage.

“Alright, assholes. You need to stop being so fucking cryptic and tell me what in the fucking fuck in going on. Because I just crashed a plane in the middle of motherfucking Kansas and I’m pretty sure it’s your fault. And I’m still pissed about the fact that you ate some of my sandwich.” She poked Dean’s chest. “Because I’m hungry now. So either start explaining yourself, or—”

“There’s a chance that you’re our sister,” Sam said, lifting his hands.

“—or make something convincing up. I don’t even… what? What did you say?”

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, before Sam continued hesitantly.

“John Winchester was our father. Vera, your mother, she… travelled with us, for a few months. Years and years ago.”

“You’re… you’re about twenty-three, twenty-four years old?” Dean asked.

“Uh, um, twenty-four. Last month.” Alex studied them, her eyes narrowing. “Are you bullshitting me?”

“Listen,” Sam said. “This is just as strange for us as it is for you. We like Vera, she was a good woman, kind to us, but after the incident—”

“The… the incident,” Alex said. “You knew her before she got hurt?”

“Maybe we should wait to have this conversation after we’re completely certain,” Sam said.

“Wait,” Alex said, shaking her head. “The incident? Were you there?”

“Hunting accident,” Dean said, his eyes over her shoulder.

Alex snorted, not feeling in touch with reality. “She always tell me it was because of ‘those damn werewolves’.”

Again, Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“No. Absolutely not. You’re not going to me that it was werewolves. My mother is crazy.”

“What happened on the plane was crazy,” Sam said. “Crazy happens sometimes.”

“Oh. My. God.” Alex turned away. “Not processing.”

“We’re telling the truth. You know what you saw.” Dean stepped in. “On the plane, those were demons. Trying to kill us.”

“Because demons exist and would want to kill me.”

“Well,” Dean shrugged. “Really, they were crashing the plane, in order to make some quick deals with people who’d be so scared of dying that they’d sell their soul to survive a few extra years. They’re great businessmen.”

Crossing her arms, Alex pursed her lips. “Okay. I get it. Hardy-har. You all are making fun of me. Hope you’re having fun. But this is real life, and I actually need to know what’s going on, because my mom could be in real danger. I don’t have time for supernatural shit.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t know what else to tell you. You wanted the truth.”

Alex looked between them. Their faces were serious. They really did believe what they were saying. And, what had happened on the plane was unexplainable. Those people… demons? … had been anything but normal.

“My mom’s been telling me for years,” Alex murmured, “about stuff like this. I’m probably a goddamn expert because of how many times I’ve had to sit through lectures on why you should always have salt with you, or how to get rid of spirits. I’m a certified, sceptical ghostbuster. Now you’re saying it’s real?”

“Mm-hmm,” they said.

Alex stood still for a moment, running this information through her head. She either had to choose to believe it, to accept everything that was, according to common sense, fake, or…

“Holy fuck,” she said. “You’re my brothers?”

“Half-brothers,” Sam said.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Alex groaned and pressed her forehead into her knees. “I was totally into you. I thought you were hot. Gross.”

“Well,” Dean said, smirking. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Shut up.” Alex closed her eyes and shook her head emphatically, like she could dispel the thoughts. “Oh, no. I actually thought the word ‘threesome’. And it turns out, I’m related to you.  Both of you! This is some Star Wars shit going on.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said, awkwardly patting her shoulder.

“Really, it is.” Dean grinned. “I thought you were hot too.”

“Ewww,” Alex lamented.

Sam sighed. “Okay then.”

“It’s really weirding me out now,” Alex said.

Sam frowned. “You know, we really can’t be certain.”

“You’re right. Let’s get it tested.”

“So, theoretically,” Dean said, seemingly unconcerned about the situation at hand. “If it turns out we’re not related and this is just some crazy coincidence…”

“Yeah, no, we’re not hooking up. The image was ruined probably when I saw you guys killing the pilot of the plane I was on. Besides, I have a boyfriend.” How am I going to explain this to Finley? “A boyfriend and a normal life.”

“Stick around with us, life won’t stay normal, I promise you,” Sam said. “So if you’re worried about that, let us call you a cab, and never think about it again.”

Alex chewed on her lip. Finley probably wouldn’t be happy that she was out and about with two men, her brothers or not. Crazy murderers? Possibly. She still had not ruled that one out. As fond as she was of him, Finley had something of a jealous side. But what he didn’t know, didn’t hurt him.

“Let’s just figure out the truth,” Alex finally said, crossing her arms. “And then I’ll decide what I’m going to do. I still need to find my mom, anyway.”

They fell into a silence for a while. Alex was trying to process exactly what was happening — these were her half-brothers? And the things on the plane… demons? While they waited on the side of the road, she found a tree stump to sit on.

Some twenty minutes later, a black 1967 Chevy Impala pulled up on the side of the rode. Sam and Dean stood to greet the driver. Alex hung back on her stump.

Leather, plaid, and now a trenchcoat — what magazine did these people step out of?

“Cas.” Dean leaned against the hood of the car, clearly more relaxed with this newcomer.

“Dean.” He nodded his greeting. “And this… is the girl?”

“Yeah.” Sam stood beside Dean, and they all looked at Alex. Feeling vulnerable, she gave an awkward wave and smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Alex called. “I’m assuming you’re the friend they were telling me about.”

Cas gave her a rather long, peculiar stare, as if she was an enigma that could be solved by looking at it for a while. Sam noticed her discomfort, and coughed.

“Alex, this is Castiel. Cas, Alex.”

“And she’s…”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He rubbed his temple. “She might be our sister?”

“Half-sister,” Dean said. “Maybe.”

“Interesting.” Cas approached her, causing her to flinch back. “Let me take a look.”

She stepped away from him. “Easy there, buster.”

“No, my name is Castiel,” he said, looking at her firmly, then pressing two fingers to her forehead before she could stop him.

A strange, cold, invading sensation flooded her, for just the slightest moment, before disappearing before she could blink.

“What the fuck was—”

“Sister,” Cas said, nodding and turning to the brothers. “Well, half-sister, to be precise. On the paternal side.”

Same grimaced and nodded. Dean looked disappointed, but interested. Alex stuttered.

“E-excuse me? What? What did you just do?”

“Well, it wouldn’t really make any sense to you, but I scanned you genetic code and—”

Alex put her hands up. “Oh my god. You’re… you’re another demon, aren’t you? A really rude demon. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. A demon who just gave me a paternity test. And I have two serial killer brothers. Awesome. Amazing.”

“Angel,” Dean corrected.

“What?”

“He’s an angel. One of the good ones, too.”

“Oh, because there are bad angels,” Alex scoffed. When they all looked at her seriously, Alex just sighed. “Of course there are.”

“Like I said,” Sam said. “Our world is crazy. You just got a taste of it on the plane. I think you should turn around and never look back.”

“What’s my other option?”

Sam glanced at Dean, hesitating. “We can help you look for your mother. We owe you that much at least.”

“Do you think something happened to her?”

“There’s a chance, and Vera is… well, was, close. If something did happen, we want to make sure she’s alright,” Dean said. “Besides, blood is blood. I always wanted a sister.”

“And what about after that?”

Sam inhaled. “We’ll see. You probably don’t want to stick around us for too long.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “We’re not exactly… user-friendly.”

“Or normal.” Alex shook her head. “Sounds good enough to me. First things first, I’m starving. Those plane pretzels aren’t very filling, and someone stole and ate most of my sandwich at the airport.”

“There’s a diner a way down the road,” Castiel said. “I’ll meet you back at the bunker. I was in the middle of this very interesting movie, Fifty Shades—”

“Aaaand that’s your cue to leave, Cas,” Dean said.

Cas shrugged, and then vanished.

Literally vanished.

Alex blinked, and he was gone. She stared at the spot for a moment, accepted this new law of physics into her rapidly changing reality, and put on a smile.

“I’m ready, boys,” she said.

The brothers — her brothers — examined her, surprised at how well she was taking it.

“Okay,” Sam said, turning toward the car.

“Oh, and shotgun,” Alex called, walking past him.

“What… Dean.” Sam crossed his arms.

Dean glanced over his shoulder, and smirked. “She called it first, Sammy. Rules are rules.”

“Yes!” Alex pumped a fist in the air, and got into the passenger seat.

Sam shook his head as he climbed into the backseat. “Jerk.”

Dean started the car. “Bitch.”

Leaning against the window, Alex rolled her eyes. “Losers.”

[desuchine]

Divulging Peculiarities

Chapter 1 of ? (Projected to be about 6 chapters) Pairing: England/France Rating: T Summary: 'Silently, he prayed that no one would come to fill the empty room next to his. He entertained the thought of them converting it into another utility space, perhaps a convenient spot for another copier or scanner.'In which Francis occupies the office next to Arthur, and the two engage each other in fascinating ways.

Alt. Reading: AO3 Link 

The space opposite of his office has remained comfortingly empty for the past few weeks. Its former occupant was the chatty type, who more often than not had a phone glued to their ear, and the conversations of which he overheard certainly didn’t allude to any customer calling about an insurance claim. It wouldn’t have been so awful, if not for how much it impeded his ability to think.

No matter how familiar the forms nor the ingrained motor skills it took to navigate a customer’s information, the migraines associated with the constant, loud babble of his workmate’s chatter more often than not ended with Arthur yanking himself free of his desk to fetch a cuppa. Too polite to rain down a wrath of artfully placed curse words, and too short-fused to endure it for extended periods of time led to an annoying stalemate with his options. He chose avoidance, in the end. Best not to jeopardize his job security by pummeling his next door neighbor.

The silence following his former coworker’s release (and really, he wonders what brought that along) came as a soothing balm to nerves that were too frayed and high strung. The weeks succeeding the vacation of the next door office eased the bone-white tendons that often stuck out against Arthur’s hands. The keys of his keyboard must have let out a figurative sigh, no longer the victim of anger he couldn’t bring himself to direct at the perpetrator. His breaks sank back into their regular conformity.

Silently, he prayed that no one would come to fill the empty room next to his. He entertained the thought of them converting it into another utility space, perhaps a convenient spot for another copier or scanner.

The rush to complete the growing pile of documents he’d missed during his outings had Arthur exhausting his workload within a few days. It wasn’t often that he found himself staring around his office with a vacant expression, drumming his fingers impatiently against the cherry oak of his desk, and not a single manilla folder in sight! He should consider himself lucky, he thinks, but mostly, he’s just terribly bored.

There sat, in the far upper corner, a mostly unused television set that seemed to be older than its brethren by at least a decade. A fine layer of dust coated its top and stuck to its screen, tinting the black surface a soft brown if one were to look at it at the right angle. It’d obviously seen more use before Arthur had come to inhabit this office space. He grimaced, noting that he’d have to take a duster to it soon.

Fishing into the right drawer of his desk, he procured the matching remote to it, flicking the television on with a press while its screen crackled to life (and isn’t that static just lovely, he thinks). The picture quality was lacking a few hundred pixels, with a color scheme that suggested some devious person had literally sucked the saturation out of it. Or perhaps it was just age and not another idiom conjured up by his mind.

The channels came in clear enough, though the only one that seemed remotely interesting to him was the news. Tossing the remote on his desk and leaning back with his cup of tea - which had begun to cool more than his liking - Arthur absorbed the ongoings of the world around him.

“-of which there will be meetings to discuss the new regime soon. In other news, blood donations are seen to be on the rise, with more and more donors coming forward in the wake of the many drives taking place around London. Statistics point towards a steadier supply for the vampire populace, and experts say that blood-related crime should be expected to decrease over the next few months. We’ve got analysts standing by to discuss the matter… but after this break.”  

The camera cut away from the anchor, segwaying into a commercial about insurance; of which the irony was not lost on Arthur. Taking a sip of his tea, and then grimacing subsequently because it was much too cool , he let his minder wander. Idly, his thoughts drifted to the local blood drive located just a few blocks away from his home. He entertained the idea of perhaps dropping by later to donate, though a wince followed that thought, because that obviously meant needles. Urgh.

When he was younger, the nurses had written down in his record that he was prone to passing out and becoming sick during bloodwork. He faintly remembers burying his head into the crook of his mother’s shoulder while the nurse slid the needle into his vein, and the violent vertigo and sinking feeling in his stomach that had him calling out for the trashcan just seconds later. When he had come to, at least three of them had been standing over him, with one laughing nervously about how his lips had turned blue and his skin had gone ghastly white.

Of course, that was then, when he was barely old enough to consider himself a teenager. He’d had another set of bloodwork done on him recently, a precautionary step taken since his mother’s side had a history of diabetes. He’d fared just fine then, though the initial poke still had his skin crawling and his stomach nearly flopping.

While his thoughts lingered on needles and blood, the news had apparently resumed its programming. Now the screen was split into three sections, with a person occupying each and debating heatedly about the current ‘feeding’ situation. Quietly, Arthur sipped his tea as he listened to their droning voices, his eyes flitting between the three analysts; an elderly man berating the government for its more humane treatment of the alternate species, a pale-skinned man with striking gold eyes tearing into the former’s accusations, and a middle-aged woman playing auspistice between the two parties.

It was easy to pick out the anomaly among them. Porcelain skin, faintly blue branching veins near his temples and neck, ears that didn’t have the familiar round curve near the cartilage, and the subtle show of canines that were one-too-many sharp. Arthur found himself listening less to the overlapping arguing and moreso studying the peculiarities of the vampire.

As his mind drifted into theories and technicalities, a quick rap of knuckles sounded at his door. His office always remained open, unless he was servicing customers, so the head that peeked around the frame of his door was expected. Meeting his green eyes was a set of blue ones, and a white smile that contrasted against the tan skin of his face.

“Hey, Artie. You hear the news?” Alfred stepped around the corner, a pastel, plastic box held against his hip as he beamed expectantly at Arthur.

“That depends, Alfred,” Arthur murmured quietly, the rim of his cup hiding his mouth as he spoke. “There’s a lot going on right now. Could you perhaps try being less vague?”

“What, and spoil the surprise? Nah. And what else is happening that I don’t know about?” Alfred readjusts the box against his hip, its sleek surface sliding down the smooth leather of his jacket. The fur lining his wear is damp, unsurprisingly, as early winter London had been assaulted with rain lately. Freezing, ice cold rain.

Arthur wondered how Alfred made it as a delivery man in these conditions. “I would ask how often you watch the news, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.”

“Eh, occasionally. Lotta arguing and nonsense, so I try to stay away from it. Brings my mood down.” The answer makes Arthur’s teacup pause in its ascent to his lips, but only briefly. He shakes his head as he finishes the rest of his tea, his nose scrunching up at the last, cold remnants. “But anyway, I figure I’ll go ahead and tell you.” He nods his head towards the empty office across the wall, which has Arthur immediately stilling and fixing him with a wary gaze. “You got yourself a new neighbor!”

“Oh,”  Arthur finds himself uttering, though it quickly follows with a repeat that serves as more of a groan. “Oh. Lovely.”

“Now listen,” Alfred begins, catching the abysmal tone in the Brit’s voice. “I know all about your old neighbor woes, yeah? But I’ve actually talked to his guy.” Arthur raises his head, and Alfred quickly tacks on. “I’m helping bring his stuff up right now, in fact. He’s a big material type, but he’s pretty nice. Charismatic, even. We talked the entire way over.”

“And you’ve deduced all of this in a single meeting?”

“I’m a delivery man, Artie. My whole deal is being able to talk to people. I gotta read them, y’know? ‘Hey, this guy’s an asshole, so be really direct and short with him.’ Or ‘Hey, this lady looks really sad, so try to say something to cheer her up, yeah?’ This new guy’s a charmer. I think even you’ll like him.”

Despite his suspicions, Arthur finds himself smirking at the implications. “Did he try to woo you or something?”

“What? No, no… I mean, maybe? But I didn’t really feel that whole vibe. If he did, I think he backed off after he realized I wasn’t interested. Or maybe that's reading too much into it. Ugh, look at what you’ve done, you old crank.”

“I’m only five years older than you, you sod.”

“Everyone knows that twenty and twenty-five are like… night and day. You’re basically almost middle-aged.”

That prompts Arthur to roll his eyes. “Your views of my life expectancy are dismal, you know.”

At that, Alfred’s smile slides back into place. “Crankiness is a terminal disease, man. It’s stated to repel at least a hundred people a year. Crazy how science works.”

Arthur hums, bemusedly, a small noise of recognition. He slides his hand over to his drawer, seemingly in the process of fishing something out before he retracts his hand, only to reveal his middle finger to be raised. “Ah, yes. I thought I left your invitation around here. And here it is! Your invitation to fuck right off .”

Instead of taking it personally, Alfred just laughs, his figure hunching slightly as his free hand clutches at his stomach. He seems to wipe a tear away before making a finger gun at Arthur. “Alright, alright. You got me good there. I’ll give that one to you. But hey, for real. The guy should be on his way up anytime. Think he’s down on the first floor, taking care of formalities or something. I’ve gotta finish moving his stuff up, so don’t be a stranger, yeah? Make a truce or something.”

“You know I only burn bridges.” Arthur remarks.

“That’s how I know you’re actually British.”

Alfred slinks away, across to the other side of the hall. Arthur gives a roll of his eyes, his fingers coming to play with the rim of his teacup as the room goes silent once more, save for the droning television. As time passes, he catches himself listening to the rest of the insurance building intensely, every creak in the floor or opening door fueling his anticipation. Alfred said his new neighbor would be charming, but then again, his and Alfred’s expectations of charming were seemingly polar opposites.

He sees Alfred’s signature jacket cross the mouth of his door various times. Each trip has him returning with more gaudy boxes, more colorful trinkets that would otherwise seem out of place in an office. It’s not as if he shuns decoration or personalization of the workplace. Arthur has quite a few knick knacks lying around himself; ranging from primitives customized with snarky phrases and sayings, to the spare teaset he keeps in the glass case on the far wall. Even his writing utensils are packed with personality, some mimicking the designs of old fountain pens. He even has customized parchment meant to resemble those of the old Victorian era.

It’s aesthetic , and he respects that.

However, a set of wine glasses? In the workplace? The social implications are enough to have him balking. Was he going to be working with an alcoholic? Not to mention the floral desk covers, or even the silken curtains that he spied moving into the room. How much did one need before their office became less of a workspace and more of a home lounge? Whoever his new coworker was, they were certainly… well, avant garde.

While Arthur is busy formulating reasonable answers to his own questions, he misses the streak of long, tied back blonde hair that flashes across his peripheral. Only the sound of Alfred’s voice calling out has him refocusing on the office next door, though he can only see Alfred from his doorway.

“I think that about does it! I got a lot of the heavier stuff up here, but I didn’t try to situate them anywhere. Didn’t wanna mess with your, uh… feng shui or whatever.”

Arthur finds himself leaning forward, his hands bracing themselves on the lip of his desk as he tries to listen more clearly.

“Oh, non, this is magnifique. Merci. Your work is appreciated!”

“Hey, cool stuff! Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then. Gonna pop by Artie’s and say goodbye.” There’s a pause, and then very harsh and suspiciously loud whispering from Alfred. “I swear, he doesn’t bite. But the guy’s got this cold shoulder vibe. You just gotta get to know him.”

“Oh? I will take your word, then.”

Arthur is relaxing back into his chair by the time Alfred peaks into his office again, seemingly straightening the lapels of his jacket and eyeing his computer screen with feigned interest. “I’m heading out!” The blonde flashes him a wave of his gloved hand, and promptly disappears before Arthur can get a single word out.

“Don’t crash your bloody lorry!” He calls out, his voice carrying down the hallway. The echo of Alfred’s laugh reaches him faintly. It’s with a sigh that he deflates, resting his arms against the sides of his office chair. He spares his workspace a quick onceover, before reaching for the remote to shut the television off.

There’s audible shuffling and tampering happening from the newly occupied office space next door, but nothing terribly distracting or grating to his nerves. There’s the soft tapping of footsteps, and then, after a short while, the pleasant humming of his new coworker as he (at least Arthur assumes it’s a man, even with a voice so operatic) sets to work on unpacking his things. He imagines that if it were the office’s old inhabitant, the humming would have had drove him absolutely mad, but there’s something undeniably cordial about it, captivating even.

Even as Arthur checks his email to find newer documents to fill out, the humming serves as a quaint background noise, something to help him through the lull of work as the afternoon progresses. By the time his office grew dim with the early winter night, he’d found himself memorizing the loops and chorus of the stranger’s song, tapping his fingers gently against his mouse as he concluded the last bit of today’s work.

As he’d leant over to flick off his lamp while his computer went through the motions of shutting down, he’d momentarily turned his head enough to peak across the hallway. There, greeting him, was his new coworker’s desk, facing the doorway and boasting a fancier and pricier computer than his own. Mindless of his manners at the moment, he’d been content to wait and stare as the task manager prompted him once more about saving his data before shutting the computer off.

A light, lavender blouse covered mostly by a cream colored cardigan came into view as the man across the hallway bent over his desk, straightening its items to perfection as the tone of his song winded down. Shoulder length blonde hair eclipsed the curve of his jawline, though the majority of it seemed to be held in place by a silken tie. Even from here, Arthur could make out a dusting of fine, groomed facial hair. It’s light color would have contrasted against anyone’s face if not for how strikingly pale the man was.

Mouse all but forgotten and left hovering over the ‘shut down anyway’ tab, Arthur rested his cheek against his hand, unashamedly eavesdropping from afar until he could get a better look at the newcomer’s face. It was one of those menial curiosities that didn’t mean much of anything, but he’d feel better knowing he got a good look at the other before heading home tonight. If his items didn’t explain him very clearly, then maybe his physical traits would. Arthur would know what to expect when he came in tomorrow morning.

After long, dragging minutes of anticipation, the man had finally decided to step around his desk, his back facing Arthur for only a moment before he promptly seated himself. Even then, the monitor of his computer served as yet another obstacle, and Arthur actually found himself grimacing over the matter.

Just as he was about to call it a fruitless effort, his new coworker would rise from his seat just a bit, so that his eyes were peeking over the top of his computer. Arthur’s computer gave a last, final hum of power as he finally gave it permission to shut off, but not before he’d caught the other’s gaze with his own.

Their line of sight remained in sync for a few long seconds, with Arthur taking note that the man’s eyes were blue, and ungodly almost. A shade you’d see more on someone photoshopped in a magazine than someone standing face to face with you. If Alfred’s eyes were blue, then there needed to be a new word to describe the shade of this man’s eyes. At least, Arthur thought so.

Seeming to notice his intent staring, the newest occupant of the office would lean slightly over, enough to reveal the rest of his face. It was here that Arthur decided that the pigmentation of his skin was truly pallid, and not just a trick of the overhead light. However, it was far from unhealthy looking. Oh, no. In fact, it was almost… strikingly handsome, if Arthur had to be perfectly honest. Otherwordly in all the right ways. The only blemishes he could make out were the slight shadows lining the bottom of his eyes, but even then, it almost appeared as if someone had purposely airbrushed them on. Angular jawline, thin, pointed nose… they were all qualities that would have anyone sweating after a bit.

This was from a distance, mind you. He paled to think of what the man was like at close proximity. It had him swallowing thickly, finding his throat to be dry despite having not been thirsty just a few minutes ago.

The distant silence must have grown to be uncomfortable between them, because now the man had raised his hand and was sending a small wave towards Arthur’s office. His lips spread into a friendly smile, of which soon became a toothy grin as Arthur awkwardly returned the gesture in the form of a half-hearted nod of recognition.

The man seemed to laugh at that, and it was here that Arthur’s attention was snagged the hardest. The man’s head had tilted back just enough, baring a good portion of not only his throat, but the seemingly perfect, white teeth he had as well. His front teeth were blunt and aligned, but the next two sets of teeth proceeding them grew sharp and glinting. Quad spires of needle sharp utensils designed for breaking flesh apart easily. Arthur had seen these before in the mouths of waiters and cashiers and even some of his clients. He’d seen it on the news today, during the heated discussion of how ethical it was for the government to be feeding their kind .

Breaking his gaze away from the office across the hall, he’d reach down to grab the strap of his messenger bag, hauling it over his shoulder and hastily pushing his seat into his desk. In his haste to vacate his office, his foot would tangle haphazardly with a spare cord running across the room, nearly sending him sprawling into the glass case holding his teaset.

A few hefty swears would leave him as he yanked his foot free, scuffing the rug up and earning a frustrated growl as he used his foot to spread it flat once more. From the other side of the hall, he could hear faint laughing, breathy noises that suggested the perpetrator was trying to muffle it somewhat.

Face flushing and skin prickling with annoyance, Arthur would stomp away from his workspace, shoving his phone into his pocket and clocking out with just a bit too much vigor, earning the concerned stares of his other coworkers as he pushed past the revolving doors of the firm.

What a lovely first impression, he thinks.

[lorenzocovino-blog]

There Ought to be a Word

La grafica è molto minimal, le parole evidenziate in blu sono le opzioni che il giocatore può scegliere per andare avanti nella storia. La storia è scritta in prima persona e si rivolge a se stesso come se stesse pensando o riflettendo su cosa fosse giusto fare.

Hi.

I’m Jeremy. I’m 31 years old. I have a wonderful 5-year-old son. I have been married for over 7 years, and was with my wife for 4 years before that.

We have been separated for six months.

Sometimes I think about dating.

Inizia come se stesse scrivendo un diario, o comunque una nota sulla sua vita, e le opzioni che ci sono sembrano degli argomenti da approfondire o sul quale vorremmo che Jeremy si soffermasse.

>>Dating

Oh man. Okay. I am a lot better equipped for this than I was 11 years ago, the last time I got into a relationship. I can do this.

I think.

I made an OKCupid profile a few months ago

In questo caso ci pone davanti a due grandi strade, una che tende al passato, ed una che vuole voltare pagina, la mia volontà è quella di non farlo rimuginare e quindi di proiettarlo sempre a ciò che può fare per non abbattersi.

>>OKCupid

It was about two months after we’d finally come to the conclusion that we were separating, for real.

I was still in a really weird place. I wasn’t really ready to start dating, but I needed to know what my future was going to look like. I needed to know that it was going to be possible for me to move on, that I wouldn’t be stuck home alone in my basement every night because I never learned to date.

I picked OKCupid because all of my friends, all of the interesting people I like, when they talk about dating sites, universally talk about OKCupid. And I vaguely remembered Daphny saying that the secret to OKCupid was just to use it to make friends.

I could use some new friends.

Create a profile

Chiaramente parte col dire di non essere sicuro di quello che sta facendo, e non sa nemmeno il perché lo sta facendo. L’unica cosa di cui è sicuro è che OkCupid è un sito molto famoso di appuntamenti, ma lui lo vuole usare per fare nuove amicizie.

>>Create a profile

Am I really doing this? Deep breath. Yeah. I guess I’m doing this.

Okay, basic information. Gender. Birthday. Interested in making new friends. That’s about as far as I can commit right now, yeah. Friends.

Oh god. What do I do about this. Single Married

Non essendo ancora divorziato definitivamente, penso che sposato sia la scelta giusta.

>>Married

I’m technically still married. A divorce is a long way off, yet. And it feels weirdly dishonest to not mention it, since it’s such a huge part of what I’m dealing with right now.

It bugs me a lot that there’s no word for my relationship with my wife. We’re definitely not a couple anymore, and there’s not any feeling on either side that we might become one again in the future. (It’s not like I’m sneaking around behind her back; we discussed dating. She’s supportive.)

It’s like, we’re close friends that are also raising a child together. We’re a family, but not a couple. All of the labels feel wrong.

I decide that probably the most accurate thing to mark down is that I’m married, and just looking for friends. That seems the least wrong set of options, to me.

Write a bio

Unica scelta possibile è scrivere una descrizione di se stesso, ormai è troppo tardi per ripensarci ha deciso di farlo, e l’unica scelta è quella di andare avanti.

>>Write a bio

I spend a couple of hours writing about myself. It is kind of gruelling. (Most writing, for me, is gruelling. (This is not the first Twine game I’ve tried to write about my experience.)) I’m really good at: Empathy. Overthinking things. Puns.

I spend some time digging through photos of myself. I don’t have a lot, but there are some nice ones.

It’s probably midnight when I start filling out questions.

Qui c’è un simpatico commento dell’autore della storia autobiografica, che conferma la realtà dei fatti che sta raccontando attraverso quest’ultima. L’unica scelta è il compilare le domande.

>>Filling out questions

Is astrological sign important in a match? Uh, no.

Have I smoked a cigarette in the last 6 months? Try never.

Which would I rather be?

Normal Weird

Dalle domande che si pone, e dai suoi pensieri deduco che è una persona normalissima, con delle abitudini normali, e che vuole apparire normale.

>>Normal

Could I date someone who was really messy? Sure, why not.

Ffffuuuuck, OKCupid, did you really just ask me if I’d only consider dating white people? Jesus Christ. JESUS CHRIST. I leave a comment on that one.

Would I consider sleeping with someone on the first date?

Yes No

Ho scelto no perché considerando la situazione familiare e sentimentale da cui sta uscendo credo che non sia molto sicuro di ciò che vuole e che non sia molto pronto per questo genere di cose, sotto un certo punto di vista potrebbe sentirsi anche in colpa.

>>No

You think so?

Hm.

I mean, I’ve been going through stuff. It’s hard. But I don’t think I’m unhappy. Not really.

Look at profiles

Mi smentisce.

>>Look at profiles

It’s kind of fun, to keep clicking through profiles, seeing who OKCupid thinks I might be interested in. It seems to do a pretty good job. There are lots of people on here that sound interesting. And in aggregate it starts to paint an interesting picture of the culture of my city.

Lots of people working in government, which I expected. Lots of outdoorsy, outgoing people, which, as an indoorsy introvert, I find myself weirdly put off by. Lots of the people I find interesting are into knitting.

Also, an awful lot of women in polyamourous open marriages? They all seem pretty cool. I guess that happens if you the check the “married” box.

It’s 2am, go to bed

>>It’s 2am, go to bed

Okay, yeah, I have been at this for like five hours, now.

OKCupid feeds me a steady stream of emails about all of the interesting people that I might meet if I just strike up a conversation with them. I don’t send any messages, though. I’m not sure at all what I’m after, with this whole endeavour.

Eventually, someone takes the first step and sends me a message.

Considerando il fatto che non è una persona che non vuole fare il primo passo, scelgo di fargli rispondere al messaggio ricevuto e quindi di farlo “buttare” in nuove conoscenze.

>>Message

She’s impressed that I listed “empathy” as a thing that I am good at. “I am also in an open relationship”, she says.

Eeee! Someone thinks I’m interesting! I guess I had better update my profile to be clearer. Ramble on for a while about empathy and my marriage

Scelgo la terza opzione, perché penso che nella sua posizione, il fatto di mettere in chiaro subito la sua situazione familiare, è una cosa a cui darebbe la priorità. Penso anche che rispetto alle altre due scelte sia la migliore e la più sensata.

>>Ramble on for a while about empathy and my marriage

Hey! Thanks!

Empathy’s not really such a hard trick — I find being naturally quiet helps. You just listen to people and accept what they have to say, even if it’s different from your own experiences. It kind of seems weird and ugly to me when people are dismissive of others, or when they’re quick to judge without understanding. Like, that’s level one on the Basic Human Decency Scale, to me.

I don’t quite have the language to describe my current relationship status. My wife and I are actually in the process of separating, but we’re still quite close, and we’re continuing to be a family together — we’re just no longer a couple. She moved into her own apartment recently, but she comes by the house in the morning to take our son to school, and sometimes in the evenings to have dinner. We’re all three of us happy with the arrangement, but I really wish there were words for what we’re doing. Sometimes I’ll catch myself thinking along the standard divorce narrative, like my marriage “fell apart” or something, and I have to consciously remind myself that, no, my marriage was great, it ended well, and I wouldn’t take back a thing.

Anyway, I should probably be a bit clearer about that in my profile. I’m mostly just looking to get to know some new people right now.

So, uh, how’s it going?

>>So, uh, how’s it going?

We exchange a couple more messages, but it quickly becomes explicitly clear that she’s looking for someone to date (as you would expect, on a dating site), and I am totally not ready for any such thing, and so we stop corresponding.

Soon after, I get a message from another woman, who read my awkward blurb and thinks it’s great that we are having meals as a family. She relates a story from her childhood about one of her parents’ exes coming over for dinner every week. It is nice to hear. We talk about doing right by kids for a bit.

My wife is seeing someone.

>>My wife is seeing someone.

I spend about four hours lying motionless on my bed having feelings.

In questo caso, dopo aver scoperto che la moglie è già impegnata con un’altra persona, il primo pensiero che mi viene in mente è il fatto che Jeremy potesse provare gelosia, e quindi ho scelto sentimenti.

>>Feelings

Stupid, irrational jealousy. It surprises me. I’m not expecting it at all. I haven’t experienced anything resembling jealousy for many, many years. It’s a terrible, hurtful emotion.

>>Hurtful

Not me. I’m not the one who gets hurt this feeling. But jealousy could make me hurt everyone I care about. My son. I don’t want that.

I am feeling shitty, sure. But it doesn’t make any sense to feel that way. Her behaviour has nothing to do with me. She is doing what she needs to do for herself. She’s not inflicting anything on me. I’m doing it to myself.

Eventually I realize that nothing has changed. My plans for myself are sound, and I should continue with them. The feeling burns itself out, and is gone, forever.

I want nothing but success and happiness for her.

Life continues.

Mi è piaciuto molto come Jeremy sia cresciuto sia nel racconto e sia nella sua vita e affronti questa situazione con la frase “La vita continua”. Se avesse provato questi sentimenti di gelosia o rimorso male anni fa, il suo modo di reagire sarebbe stato diverso, come si può dedurre dalla descrizione precedente, in cui sottolinea la sua estraneità a questo sentimento, non avendolo provato sulla sua pelle per molti anni.

>>Life continues

I do eventually build up the courage to send out a few messages. At the moment, OKCupid is a place where I have short, pleasant conversations with strangers. I’ve gotten book recommendations. I’ve found a good pizza place not far from where I work.

I’m still not dating. I might give it a shot soon. I’m emotionally comfortable with the idea, now. I changed my OKCupid status to “single”. I deleted the awkward blurb about being married. It doesn’t seem relevant, anymore.

Still, I worry about how I spend my time. I worry that I don’t actually want people in my life, right now. I’m not exactly going out of my way to spend time with my friends, either. I have trouble getting myself out of the house. Will that improve if I’m dating someone, or will I just ignore them? Am I overthinking it? Am I just making excuses for myself?

I don’t know. I can see that I’m holding myself back, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m doing what I really want to be doing right now, or if something else is going on.

Can’t tell if depressed or happy.

In questo caso sono presenti tre scelte, come se fosse una sorta di riflessione sulla sua vita e su ciò che ha adesso dopo la separazione. Ho scelto “happy” perché come dice lui, la vita continua, ha amici, un figlio di 5 anni ed è un uomo in salute, non deve fossilizzarsi sul “cosa sarebbe stato se”.

>>Happy

There is a lot of good going on in my life. I have a good relationship with my son. I have a good relationship with my ex. I am full of enthusiasm for my projects, and when I’m not, I don’t push it. I take good care of myself.

I know I’ll make a good partner for someone. I just don’t know when, yet.

Soon.

[tweeglitch]

smash the system? through sheer incompetence our oppressors are about to do just that. The revolutionary only needs to sit back and wait. 

Civilisation runs on working code though no one knows what a lot of it does anymore lol. And for many large legacy systems of vital infrastructural importance to the running of governments and economies no one has an overall view of how many of them work at all lol.

Governance of nations and the running of business has been increasingly deferred to the auto-pilot and that machine is made of rules. And of necessity those rules stretch over national borders because so does trade. The idiots are about to take an ax to those rules severing the links between the one and the 27. And they then expect the machine to instantly adjust and carry on working as before in business, banking and finance, supply chains, transport, government and crucially customs.

Because among other things (such as security and revenue collection) HMRC’s customs system is an essential cog in the machine integrated with the systems that schedule and coordinate the flow of goods through every one of the UK’s ports and airports. Clearly these systems will need updating to reflect the immanent change in the UK’s trading arrangements. Pause and ponder… flow of goods… every port. What could possibly go wrong!

These systems cannot be updated in time because there will be no time; it’s not until negotiations are complete that there can be surety and clarity on what the new rules of trade will be. And upon those rules technical specifications can be drawn up and passed to the devs. If those negotiations take zero seconds then there is the entire two year article 50 period to make adjustments. If however they take up that entire two years then there is a remaining zero seconds. I would tend toward the latter. An ambitious deadline for a government IT project.

And particularly ambitious in this case given HMRC are part way through a re-write (alarm bells already) from the existing CHIEF system to CDS so as to implement UCC processes (though not sure how relevant many of them will be post brexit). Re-writes are a huge risk as the existing system has been tested in the field by millions of users over decades. This total overhaul however is due for release around the time of the UK’s currently projected EU exit date. And of course leaving the EU wasn’t anticipated in this project (oh boy). And as well as modifications to take in to account the UK’s changed trading relationships with almost every other country on Earth. Every other country and not just the EU because the EU negotiates trade agreements on behalf of it’s members, agreements the UK will no longer be party to post exit so it leaves with nothing. Not just the change in rules but it will need to scale.

It will need to scale for a doubling of declarations being put through the system from traders previously used to the ease and simplicity of doing business within the EU. Scaling the system currently under development (CDS) is not a problem, it’s modern so just throw more servers at it. But that won’t be ready in time; government IT projects tend to overrun by years and overspend by billions and this isn’t the first attempt to rewrite. So that leaves the existing CHIEF system. This was not written by teenagers yesterday in javascript using node js. CHIEF was written in the 80s in COBEL, ICL OS and DBMS (ICL went out of business 15 years ago) etc. Particularly challenging given the reason for the rewrite (the reason for most rewrites) is that CHIEF had become too risky expensive and time consuming to make changes to. This tends to happen as mods are made to millions of lines of code by a stream of programmers over a quarter of a century… things tend to get a little bent out of shape. So how scalable is CHIEF and how easy to update to account for the radical change in the UK’s trade relationships with every other nation on Earth?

The situation is analogous to an army on the move (from CHIEF to CDS) about to be ambushed (as there’s no time to prepare) by an overwhelming force as the environment in which this system was written to operate in will be radically altered (every everything this system currently does will be under attack from some need to change). This will not go well and there’ll be no going back because when it all goes wrong the build can’t be pulled and the previous version installed because the previous version is the EU model. And what makes this project even more failure prone (if it didn’t have enough stacked against it already) is that hard brexit brings with it a hard deadline. Two years post article 50 notification it’s pencils down whether you’ve finished or not.

But hey surely there’ll be some post exit transition period to allow for implementation? Well normally when it comes to trade agreements yeh because normally these things are mutually beneficial otherwise there wouldn’t be agreement! so it’s in both parties’ interest to implement what has been agreed. This isn’t normal. This is the opposite in every respect. This is the undoing of agreements to both parties’ detriment. So as regards transition the EU attitude generally is ‘what’s in it for us?’ ‘will the end state of transition be good for us?’ ‘No?’ ‘Oh well fuck it then why bother!’ Then the UK according to that recent white paper is prepared to simply walk away from discussions rather than accept a ‘bad deal’ while many of the loons now running the show view any kind of transition with suspicion; a means to keep the UK in by stealth. Nor do they understand the need for an interim period to allow time for systems to be updated, it’s simply a detail that many think is beneath them to understand.

That lack of understanding extends to all those ‘experts’ we’ve heard in the media since the referendum campaign. Generally speaking these experts have been of the kind that don’t do detail. Politicians, business leaders, economists, journalists and celebrity chefs only see the bigger picture. Though how many of these ‘experts’ have ever even written a line of code! IT is rarely part of anyone’s bigger picture regardless of how fundamental it may be. And for some problems if you only see the bigger picture then you’re hardly seeing the problem at all. The experts are indeed wrong because this will be far worse than any of them have predicted.

Which brings us to another reason so little is being said about the catastrophe that awaits should the UK continue on its present path. That is the lack of detail in UK gov pronouncements of their intentions, their plans. Because with so little to go on those who have some grasp of the issues don’t want to commit to any predictions because who wants to be wrong! No one wants to be the one to start yelling the sky is falling then be ‘proved wrong’ when UK gov come to their senses and change course (e.g. remain in the EEA as an interim step say).

 However the vagueness and lack of detail shouldn’t be a cause for doubt it’s rather a very strong indicator. A very strong indicator of cluelessness. UK gov are saying little because they have little to say.

But detail detail detail, in this case the devil isn’t so much there but rather a screaming horde of demons are waiting to be unleashed. Because these issues: the uncertainty until agreements are made and the lack of time to adjust and the degree to which systems have become enmeshed over the decades across borders. This doesn’t just apply to customs IT no, that was just the most obvious pick, it applies to a whole range of other systems within government, business and finance.

The chaos and disruption that awaits will be war scale. Trucks backed up from Dover along the M20 and wrapped round the M25. The army called in to distribute to supermarkets, food rationing and civil unrest. And this on top of the other related shocks to the food system of a country only 60% self sufficient. There is the additional customs bureaucracy along with the system failures; a big problem for time critical consignments such as fresh food. Sterling will drop to parity with Andrex once the scale of clusterfuck becomes obvious to all making food imports that more expensive. The loss of migrant labour upon which the UK’s food industry is heavily dependant. And then the inevitable end of subsidies which account for 50% of farm income.

Ho-hum. Just warning the world of the UK’s impending famine and civil war issue… erm on my art blog. It’s ahhh… a conceptual piece. Coz it err... makes yer fink dunnit?

They say every society is only three meals away from revolution. I think it was said on an episode of Red Dwarf btw.