#like a “get the memo only he gets to call me that you fool”

[youngdutchishot]

I like it when a friend gives you a nickname then someone else tries to use that and they're all "hey wtf only I call them that you bitch" but you're also warmed by them doing that.. anyways I think Dutch would get severely pissed when people try to call Hosea old girl-

[tojicide]

FRENCH BOYS! ☆ RAFAYEL QI.

summary. when your paintings were featured in the same gallery walk as rafayel’s, he can’t help but commission you with an oddly cheeky request — ❛ paint me like one of your french boys. ❜

warnings. fem!reader. nsfw, mdni, artist!reader, body appreciation, reader paints rafayel in the nude, terms of endearment, oral sex (male receiving), tit sucking, p in v, cowgirl, unprotected but he pulls out, mentions of a ‘next time’

wc. 3.6k

note. i’m a raf girlie and this is me paying my dues to every single rafayel fan out there. i hope you give this a chance even if you aren’t a raf fan bc i’m honestly rly proud of this! see you at the bottom < 3 < 3 < 3

click here for portrait inspo! it’s ai which is very unfortunate but i couldn’t find any good inspo pics :(

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❛ Paint me like one of your French boys. ❜

You feel like you’ve read the line enough to have it engraved into your skull by now. You were still having trouble assessing whether or not the words were actually printed on the page or if you’d somehow misread them a million times over.

After all, who in their right mind would add that at the end of a memo for an art commission? Rafayel Qi, you learned. That’s exactly who.

Rafayel has heard of you in passing, of your astounding professionalism and the unique ways in which you depict your subjects. He didn’t know you personally though. In fact, he’s only ever seen you at the art exhibitions that your promoters put on for you.

And even then, you never truly gave him the time of day. Why should you? In the grand scheme of things, he’s a stranger.

Rafayel has never been the biggest fan of the unknown, which was why it surprised him that he was such a big fan of yours.

Call him crazy, but he wanted to get to know you. He’d even reached out to your studio a few times on the basis of collaborating on an art piece together, but when he was met with the generic excuse of your busy schedule preventing you from meeting with him, he was left to resort to the extreme.

He was quite familiar with the art style that you possess. He thought that your knack for figure painting made you interesting, made you admirable. Paying homage to the Renaissance period was a lost art in and of itself, and you managed to do so with nearly every single piece you created.

Now, here’s why he would absolutely understand if you called him crazy…

He would even understand if you called him self-concerned, if you called him vain—if you called him anything your heart desires, because all adjectives of the like are spectacular words to describe him… especially after he sent you that forsaken commission.

A commission that piqued your interest enough for you to accept, but a forsaken commission nonetheless. He knew that it made him look like an arrogant fool, because all things considered, who commissions a nude portrait of themself?

He tried not to dwell on it, because that was exactly how he ended up here, in your presence. Sure, he was posing nude in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but at least you were here…

“Soooo… how’s it going?” he asks, desperately trying to fill the silence between you two that only the sound of your paintbrush scraping against the canvas interrupted.

You peek your head out from behind the canvas, catching another glimpse of him sitting on the grand throne that he had custom made just for this moment.

(He was paying good money for this, alright? If he was going to have a painting of his naked body lying around, he wanted it to depict him in his godliest form.)

“Pretty good,” you shortly answer, sweeping your tongue over your bottom lip as you paint the shadow of a particularly sharp line on his abdomen. Seriously, he was absolutely jacked. At least you had that to keep you from growing bored.

Rafayel smiles as you keep your answers to his questions brief. That’s about the third ‘pretty good’ he’s gotten out of you in the last hour, and don’t even get him started on the sheer number of ‘alright’s you’ve given him.

So, he presses on.

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” he asks, absentmindedly tilting his head to the side as he speaks, only for you to quickly lean around the canvas to look at him. “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?” he asks with just about the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen.

You sigh. “Yes. You should really stop talking.”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk still tugging on his lips. “Should I? Here I was, thinking that you were enjoying this dazzling conversation of ours.”

That earns an eye roll from you, which is about the most expression he’s gotten out of you thus far. “You’re too expressive when you speak, Rafayel. You’re a horrible subject.”

He huffs at that, knitting his eyebrows together. “Am not. You mean to tell me that this body of mine makes for a horrible subject? Tsk tsk.”

“That body of yours?” you echo with a small breath of laughter. “Please. Am I supposed to be fawning?”

Rafayel gives you a sulky expression. “Puh-lease,” he mimics you, “I have abs, okay? I’m not saying you have to do anything with that information, but if you were to fawn, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“You think quite highly of yourself,” you say, tucking behind the canvas as you stroke the paintbrush over the area that you were currently working on.

He rolls his eyes at that. “Jeez, woman. Sue a guy for being confident.”

When he’s met with your silence and the sound of your paintbrush splashing in a nearby cup of misty water, he sighs. “I’m just joking with you. I’ll—”

“Even when I give you the silent treatment,” you lean out from behind the canvas to look at him, “you still won’t stop your yapping.”

Rafayel furrows his brows, cocking his head to the side as he gives you a deadpan expression. “Lady, please. I was about to tell you that I was going to shut up from now on, but come to think of it, I don’t wanna.”

You found it ironic that your own inability to shut up is what led you to this position. You bite your tongue, shifting to sit behind the canvas again, but his voice is what reminds you that he’s still there.

“Anywho,” he continues. “You’re a hard woman to track down. What made you accept my commission?”

“Good pay,” you deadpan, though a smile curves on your lips. “And the final line of the memo you sent me.”

Rafayel is doing his best to keep his stoic demeanor, but once he finds out that his risky behavior has paid off, he’s internally celebrating. Very much so.

“Tell me,” you continue, peeking at him. “Are you even French?”

He shakes his head, the soft strands of blue hair that hang just above his eyes moving just the same. “No,” he admits. “But my tiny fib got you here, didn’t it?”

You press your lips into a line as his movement ruins the stillness of his pose, but you try not to scold him for it. “Sure it did,” you answer. “Some nerve you have.”

“The nerve,” he echoes through a soft chuckle.

However, the nerves that he’s truly concerned about right now are the ones in his cock that are very quickly waking up. He does his best to not shift around in his seat, but once you disappear behind the canvas again, he does just that.

He really hadn’t thought this through. How embarrassing. Not only is he erect, but he’s erect from purely talking to you. What a mess he is.

The bright side is that there’s a thin layer of silk fabric draped over the lower half of his body, but with the rapid swelling of his erection, he’s realizing that it’ll do very little to help him out.

“Uh…” he clears his throat. His ears are as red as a fire truck, he’s sure of it. “Can we take a quick break?”

You don’t look at him from behind the canvas as you answer. “I’d prefer it if you gave me a bit longer. I’m almost done with this section, I don’t want to disturb the pose just yet.”

He curses himself for hiring such a professional. “Alright,” he murmurs.

You continue working for a few seconds before you speak up this time. “What made you seek me out, Raf? I mean, you’re a pretty good painter yourself.”

Raf. He didn’t think that he’d done enough to earn that level of familiarity to get you to give him a nickname, but he’ll gladly take what he can get.

“I dunno,” he lies. “I guess I just wanted to be the muse for once,” he adds. That time, however, he was being truthful.

He’s always wanted to be the subject, the one in front of the easel, the one who is paid attention to. Call him an attention whore if you must, because he’ll gladly claim that title.

Especially if it’s attention coming from you. He’ll pull out all of the stops to get it, just like he has today.

“That’s almost poetic,” you joke.

“Almost?” he repeats. “Alright, you’ve really hurt my feelings now.”

You shortly hum. “If that’ll get you to stop talking and sit still then I’m glad.”

He huffs quietly, sitting still and silent for a grand total of two minutes. He tried to keep it up, but the silence was gnawing at him.

“What are you currently working on?” he eventually asks.

To answer his question, you’d have to blatantly say that you’re painting his crotch… so instead, you stand up to turn the easel around entirely.

Rafayel takes a moment to gaze at the canvas, his eyes blown wide in wonder. You really were talented, and you’ve managed to make him look absolutely unreal in a way that he believes only you can.

His eyes settle on the section you painted last, judging by how most of the wet paint conjugated in that area. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, studying the way you even painted the faint outline of his length beneath the silk cloth.

“You’re finished with it?” he asks, raising his eyes to meet yours. “That part, I mean.”

You nod, turning the easel around to face you again. “Yeah,” you answer.

Rafayel clears his throat as he glances down at his crotch, which was sporting a full erection beneath the silky fabric. That had changed since you began to paint him, which wasn’t exactly your fault, but he curses his horny brain for what he says next.

“You got it a little wrong,” he tells you.

Your eyebrows raise as you drop your gaze down to the part of the canvas he’s currently correcting. “What? No, I…” you say as you peek at him from behind the canvas.

He shifts a bit under your gaze, watching quite intensely as you eye compare your painting to how he looks right now.

“Hm. I guess I did get it a little wrong, yeah,” you murmur, more so to yourself than to him.

Rafayel nearly smiles at your tone of indifference. “I hear that visual learning is the most efficient,” he suggests, cocking a brow at you. “Gets you well acquainted with the… material.”

“And by visual learning do you mean physical learning?” you counter.

…So yeah, physical learning definitely sounded more appealing to the both of you, which is exactly how you wound up kneeling in front of him with his cock in your mouth.

Your tongue flattens on the underside of his shaft as you sink lower, prompting him to collect a bit of your hair in one of his hands. “Gods, woman, are you trying to kill me?” he huffs, a sly grin on his face as he keeps his eyes closed.

Unsurprisingly, he can’t bear the thought of seeing your beautiful face be made of a mess of. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’s the reason you’re in this position, but he still does.

His large hand on the back of your head guides your movements as you suck him off, his head tilted back as you use your tongue on him. His stomach muscles are taut, and you’re finding yourself fawning over him after all, because his abs truly are that magnificent.

“Holy shiiiiit,” he pants, finally cracking his eyes open to look down at you. He really shouldn’t have done that, because now he feels like he’s about to cum in your mouth. “Fuck, ‘m sorry, pretty,” he stammers, closing his eyes again. “Can’t… can’t help it. Feels too good.”

You don’t think he has anything to be sorry about, and if anything, you should be assuring him of the opposite. It was one thing to stare at him from afar, but it was another to look at him from this angle—with his eyes screwed shut while his forehead glistens with sweat especially.

He almost feels embarrassed for how loud he’s moaning, his thick thigh tensing as you rest your hand on it to brace yourself. You’re making him feel like a virgin with the way you take him in, the sensation of your tongue making him feel fuzzy.

“Just like—shit—just like that, cutie, yeah,” he babbles, hardly sure of what he’s saying anymore. All he knows is that if he opens his eyes and sees your gorgeous mouth stuffed with his cock, he’s going to cum.

You pat his hand on the back of your head as a means of getting him to guide your movements to his liking, noticing the way he so clearly hesitates with you. You can’t blame him. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that you actually like this sort of thing.

But with the way your mouth feels around his cock, he’s in absolutely no rush to deny you or himself this wish. He pushes your head a bit faster now, listening to the lewd sounds of your spit sloshing around with every thrust he gives you.

“Too fucking good,” he rasps through a moan. He’s almost too lost in you, his lips permanently parting as he lets his vocal cords roll out the most filthy words you’ve ever heard. “Mm-hmm, use that—fuck—pretty mouth of yours, gorgeous.”

As if the sight of him reacting so visually to your mouth wasn’t enough, the words he gives you are more than enough to have your heat pooling between your thighs. You’re both a mess here.

He flings his head back, his eyes shutting even tighter as your nose brushes against the tufts of dark blue hair at the base of his cock. It was safe to say that the curtains certainly matched the drapes…

You gag as he pushes you a bit too far on his length, his eyes snapping open almost immediately. “Oh, honey, ‘m sorry,” he huffs out, releasing your hair to let you off of him.

You shake your head as you cough, pulling your mouth off of him for a brief moment. A thick string of saliva still connects your bottom lip to the base of his shaft, and that alone has his cock twitching right in front of you.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes as he shakes his head, almost dumbfounded by the sight in front of him. He may be out of breath, but he’s still very in tune with his abundant attraction for you. “Come up here, gimme a kiss.”

Rafayel is pulling you and you’re complying, and his lips are slotting against yours within seconds. He holds your jaw in his hand, his other moving to the small of your back to pull you closer until you’re kneeling between his spread thighs.

The kiss is sloppy, the saliva on your face immediately transferring onto his skin, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Not one bit. Instead, he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth, gathering more of your taste on his tongue.

“Don’t think I’m well acquainted enough,” you murmur against his lips, planting your hands on the back of the throne while you shift to straddle his lap. “Do you?”

He shakes his head without thinking. “Nuh-uh. Think you need a little more,” he replies, running his hands along your thighs until they slip beneath your dress.

One of his hands cup your mound while the other rests on your hip, and he nearly moans at the feeling of the sopping wet fabric clothing the needy area between your legs.

“This all for me?” he asks with a lopsided grin, his eyes hooded as he looks at you. You nod your head, a soft whine leaving you as he pulls the fabric to the side, running two fingers along your slick pussy. “Mm, I wanna taste her.”

You shake your head, your hand reaching to stroke his throbbing cock, brushing your thumb along the tip as a spurt of pre-cum leaks from it. Denying head isn’t exactly your go-to, but you can’t help it. You want to feel him inside of you.

He follows your hand down to his shaft before he raises his eyes to meet yours again, giving you the sweetest smile imaginable. “Alright, silly girl. Pussy’s all mine next time though, promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper with a smile.

Rafayel seems pleased with that, so he gives your thighs a light squeeze as he shifts to stand up, only for you to gently nudge him back down.

He raises a brow at you, a smirk quickly growing on his face. “Oh? Pretty baby wants to ride me, is that it?”

His pet names for you nearly make you buckle, and you’re not sure how considering you’re already sitting down, but it almost happened, you’re positive.

“Yeah,” you answer, slowly rubbing the head of his cock along your folds. “Look me in the eyes this time?” you tease.

He’s too drunk on the feeling of your pussy teasing his tip to realize that you’re joking with him. “Huh? Oh right, yeah, cutie, whatever you want.”

If you thought he was whiny there, it was no match for the man he became once the head of his cock pushed into your hole.

“Holy shit, woman, you really are trying to kill me,” he moans, resting his head back. “I was only joking before.”

You chuckle as you slowly lower yourself on his length, feeling the way his girth stretches you out, earning a whine from your lips in return. He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“You feel so good, pretty,” he whispers, his other hand resting on your hip as you begin to bounce on his cock. Up and down, up and down. “Shiiiiit, baby. Fuck me like that, yeah, just like that.”

A smile stretches across your lips as you watch his expression go from one of eagerness to one of absolute bliss, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you.

“Gods,” he breathes as his cock slides between your walls. “Pussy’s so tight—fuck,” he gasps out as he grips onto your hips, slowing your movements. “Gonna want more if you keep doing me like that.”

And by more, he means he’s going to start fucking up into you. He really didn’t want to, not with how pretty you looked riding him on your own, tits bouncing in his face and all.

You whine as he slows you down, and you come to a complete stop for a moment as you sit in his lap, cockwarming him. “Is that not the point?”

Rafayel raises a brow at you, a lazy grin on his lips. “Pfft. Alright, woman, you asked for it.”

You really did ask for it, though when he grasped onto your hips to make you slightly hover over him, you’re quickly realizing that his words were anything but empty.

His cock rams into you before you can even register that he’s moving beneath you, his thrusts hard and fast. You moan nearly every time the tip of his shaft reaches the back of your walls. Without much thought, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you.

“Ah-ah,” he playfully scolds, leaning forward to nip at the neckline of your dress. “Pull ‘em out for me, cutie.”

You do it without hesitation, shrugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders just enough for your tits to be revealed to him. He moans at the sight, leaning in to press a kiss on your perked nipple.

“Such pretty tits, honey,” he murmurs against your skin as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his cock pushing into you not letting up whatsoever.

It’s your turn to moan embarrassingly loud now, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel heat pool in your lower stomach. He’s far too preoccupied with sucking on your tits to notice, but once he does, he nips at the sensitive skin of your breast.

“I thought we were looking each other in the eyes this time,” he says, leaning up to press a kiss on your cheek. And when you open your eyes, he smiles. “Thaaat’s more like it, pretty.”

You return the smile, but not for long. Another moan rips through you, your forehead moving to rest on his, though you keep your eyes open.

“I… ‘m gonna cum,” you choke out, earning a chaste kiss from him.

He nods. “Let me have it, baby. Need you.”

And it’s not like you had a choice in the matter. You’re shaking in his lap as your orgasm washes over you, another airy moan leaving your swollen lips as you find your release on his cock.

“So perfect, so beautiful,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you again, slowing the pace of his hips down as he fucks you through your high. “Mhm, so sweet for me too.”

A soft whine leaves his lips as he pulls out of you. You watch as his hand strokes along his cock, a guttural sound leaving his mouth as he paints his own stomach with thick, white ropes of cum.

He pants as he keeps his eyes on yours, leaning forward to press another kiss to your cheek. You lean into his touch while your other hand threads into his hair.

“Well, won’t you look at that. Guess you’re your own muse after all,” you joke, giving him a suggestive wink. “Y’know, since you painted your own—”

“Mhm, I got the joke, gorgeous,” he deadpans, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips. “You’re just hilarious, aren’t you?”

“…Yeah, I think I’m pretty funny.”

note. helloooooo! i really enjoyed writing this lol, i like the lightheartedness of it all. i might write a pt2 for the hell of it buuuuut i hope you enjoyed reading <3 all interactions are greatly appreciated :)))

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[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Five

~

His office felt weird. New York felt weird. Even being with Cassie felt weird. Leo was so groggy in his real life that sometimes, when he was washing his face or sitting in a meeting or grabbing a bagel for lunch, he wondered if he had just been sleeping that whole time with Finn and Logan. He wouldn’t put it past himself to dream up something like that. Leave it to him to think making dinner for two of the biggest names in the music industry was a daydream. And the kissing, of course, but he spent far more time thinking about salt water in Finn’s hair and the way Logan looked walking around the markets. It was all smeared gold in his mind. And then there were the dirty dreams which he kept accidentally thinking about in meetings.

The article was going to lead this month’s issue, which meant it would come out right as Finn and Logan started up their tour again. A crew was being sent out to Nice for the cover shoot and Leo had been so jealous when he found out that he’d had to excuse himself from the meeting for a moment. He missed them. He probably scrolled through their messages too much.

The thread started when Leo had settled into a cab and opened the app to text them that he’d landed, only to find an incoming FaceTime call interrupting him. Leo had saved their numbers under their initials—as if that would really fool anyone. So, when Finn’s first FaceTime had popped up, he’d been more than surprised to find difficult little rock star calling him instead, complete with a photo that Finn seemed to have taken himself—him and Logan basking in the sun, hair wet from the ocean and cheeks smushed together.

Leo had answered with, “and what’s Logan saved under then?”

Finn had just grinned and ran off screen—presumably to grab Logan’s phone because a second later, Leo got a text of !! from grumpy<3

Leo figured that was subtle enough to keep. He’d pushed his headphones into his ears and let Finn’s voice fill his head as the city rose up and greeted him in its sunset.

Somehow, without so much as a ripple, talking to them had started feeling like talking to old friends. Once a day. Twice a day. Photographs of their lunches and messy work spaces in between. When Leo received his fist voice memo, he’d had to lock himself in the bathroom at work and breathe a few times before hitting play.

“Hi, Le,” Finn’s voice said. “Okay—we’re writing today. Lo, hello, say hi.”

“Hi, hey,” Logan said, then let out a wicked cough. “Sorry, Finn made me do one of those ginger shots and I’m in hell.”

Leo covered his laugh with his hand.

“Shut up, it’s good for you,” Finn replied. “Okay, anyway. So, this is called—oh, I’m gonna be on the piano. But this is—and I’m gonna try to play it straight through.”

“Stop interrupting yourself,” Logan said, then it sounded like he got closer to Finn’s phone. “It’s called Neon Signs and it’s off of the new album, and we know your editor wanted you to hear one more song for the piece so—ouais. Go, Finn.”

“I was going to say I’m on the piano and on the album it’s also piano. So. There.” He laughed and played a few chords. “Okay. It’s about one of the times when we almost got together, but we didn’t. We were at a bar that we weren’t old enough for.”

“And Finn got us stuck outside because they wouldn’t let us back in,” Logan said.

“Fool them once, and all that,” Finn cut in.

“It was freezing.” Logan’s voice, then a pause. “And I kissed him.”

“Again,” Finn said, laughing. “Anyway, spoilers. Here we go.”

There were a few seconds of dead air. Just Finn breathing. Leo pressed his headphones against his ears and kicked up his volume in time to hear Logan whisper something in French and Finn hush him.

I wanted you to meet me outside.

We’re not old enough to drink, no, not quite.

And leaving this bar means risking getting stuck out in the cold.

But I said ‘follow me’ you said ‘all right.’

Pulling up your hood against the frost bite.

And now that we’re here, there are too many things I want you to know.

But somehow I can tell tonight is not when you’ll be told

That just the look of you beneath that neon sign

Sure is something to behold…

It’s soft and blue…

Like me and you…

Maybe I’ll do this forever,

Only kiss me when it’s snowing.

Cause at least it isn’t never,

Though I can’t see where we’re going.

If only that light from that neon sign

Made you see me

Just as brightly

Oh God

Where’s my,

Neon,

Bar sign?

One that you can read.

Put it over me.

Bathe me in signals and the arrows pointing where I want to lead.

“Oh,” Leo said softly to himself—reacting to the lyrics, but also to Finn’s piano. It was a meandering, sad tune. As if even the music wasn’t sure what its next note would be. The song took them out of winter next and through to summer. Into humidity, and strings lights and patios and dorm rooms, sweltering with the door closed and no AC. A goodbye—was this them going to college? And it was Logan singing. Fall and desperate for something to last. Finn fumbled a little on the piano, cursed softly, and despite the next sad lyric, Leo could hear Logan smiling. Instead walked into my own past. You’re sitting on the bed and I’ve never felt less or more alone.

Leo listened to it four times. It was hypnotizing. Yes, he knew the story. He’d been given the precious task of telling the story—but they were telling it, too.

Meanwhile, the article was going through drafts and drafts. He’d fought hard to keep the section about Logan’s market in. His editor hadn’t seen the relevance, and maybe Leo’s relevance wasn’t entirely music-based, but those markets were in the songs. Maybe not in so many words, but Logan was as gentle as his voice could be when he was there. He stood still in that space, listening to the rhythm and thrum of the people around him.

Sending cover shoot to you without me :/ Leo typed out.

Finn replied almost instantly: I’ll refuse to pose until you arrive.

Then Logan: I will lock them out.

Ha, Leo wrote.

No Ha. It’s my house.

I’m at the office—in the final meeting for the article. He thought for a second, then smiled as he typed out. Everyone’s so happy for you.

You are coming to our first show, Logan typed out, and then a few seconds later, ? accompanied it, as if Finn had forced it out of him.

I’m coming to a show. Not sure when yet, Leo said. I’m on another project and have to finish it up before—

His eye caught on his phone’s clock. Jesus. He’d been in here for ten minutes texting like a teenager between classes. Before what? Before I can come back to you. Before I can come home, before I can come back because I miss you.

The thrill that came from being able to know he missed them because he knew them was strong.

—before I can make it, he finished. Have to go back to meeting now

Finn sent him five rows or pink hearts, Logan said, we miss you, and Leo sat back down in his meeting with a smile on his face that earned him weird looks. Cassie stared at him until someone asked her a question.

~

“Okay, so you’re gonna spill all your beans now.” Cassie jabbed him gently with her fork at lunch. “Like. Right now.”

“I don’t have beans.” Leo tilted his bowl to her. “This is my mama’s chicken salad recipe. Want some?”

Cassie groaned. “Just tell me why you’re grinning at your phone like an idiot every chance you get!”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you are.”

“I’m not, I’m not.”

“Yes, yeah, yeah, yeah.” Cassie grabbed onto his arm. “Tell me.”

“I’m excited for them,” Leo said. “That’s all. I’ve always looked up to them, and this is a big deal.

“So we are talking about Finn and Logan?”

Leo froze, caught. “Oh.”

It wasn’t his fault. They filled every little space of his mind. And if there was somewhere they couldn’t reach, they pressed up against that part, all warm and insistent.

Cassie threw her head back and squealed. “Leo. Tell me, tell me—”

“Oh-ho my God, they kissed me.”

Cassie stared at him, voice cutting off. Leo slapped his hands over his own mouth.

“You don’t know that,” Leo said quickly, just as Cassie made a soft, breathy sort of screeching sound.

“Wh-at?” she set her fork down with exaggerated precision. “What did you just say?”

Leo glanced around the courtyard they were in, but they were alone. In the shade, sun dappling down on them, and alone.

“They?” Cassie’s hand on his sleeve twisted the fabric. “They kissed you?”

He hadn’t meant to say a word, but the knowledge was like a fire inside of him. Being wanted like this. Being wanted by them.

Cassie started laughing, surprised and delighted. “Leo.”

“Yeah, they—apparently, um.” Leo shook his head. He didn’t even know how to say this. “They’ve been tracking my career since I just had the blog, and we were out by the fire pit and we almost—but we didn’t. And then we talked and I told them about Jack—sort of.”

Cassie’s blue eyes went wide at that, but she stayed quiet.

“And they sort of got why I was saying no.”

“You said no?”

“At first, at first.” Leo pushed his lunch away and dropped his voice. “Okay, okay, okay, sworn to secrecy.”

She squealed again through a shut mouth and hit him repeatedly in the arm.

“So, Nice,” Leo said. “Logan’s house.”

“Yeah, fuck you, by the way, meant nicely but with jealousy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But, so that night happened where they made the move a bit—”

“What does that even mean?”

“Mm, hard to explain. They were actually—” Leo’s laugh interrupted his words. “They were so bad at it.”

“Finn O’Hara is bad at making the moves?”

“Only when he means it, apparently.”

Cassie’s waved him on. “Okay, more, I need more.”

“So, we talked it out at the markets.”

“Ah. That’s why you like those sections so much. It’s all coming together.”

“Shut up.”

“And they kissed you there?”

“No,” Leo said. “Logan kissed me, just once, and um…” Leo bit back a grin. “And then later, Finn. Mostly because—I mean we said we’d take it slow and Logan was just keeping that promise, but I may have lost some resolve with Finn because—fuck, because.”

“He’s Finn O’Hara,” Cassie said. “I think ‘fuck, because’ is a fine reason.”

“And that’s when he said they want me to come back once I’m off their project. I mean, I know I have the follow up piece but…then I’ll be done.”

Cassie had her chin in her palm, the way she sometimes did when she was thinking. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She sat up straight. “Both…of them?”

Leo opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Honestly, I haven’t been even…feeling strange about that. Is that weird?”

“No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “I mean, not if it’s working. You’re not, like…jealous?”

“No,” Leo answered. It was the truth. “I know I probably should be.”

“They are basically high school sweethearts,” Cassie said. “Like, this article, the way you describe them…That’s soulmate shit right there. I don’t mean you don’t fit with them, I’m just…”

“I know where you’re coming from, but…” Leo sighed, smiling. “And I went there, too, but it’s just not like that. I like the way they are together. The way they treat each other. I like it as much as I like the way the are with me.”

“Holy shit,” Cassie said, then laughed. “Oh man.” She pushed her lunch aside in favor of pulling her laptop out of her bag. “Holy shit, holy shit, which show do you want? Which show, Le, I want to book that all out right fucking now.”

“It’s one night.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna be a hell of a night.”

Leo reached forward and grasped her hand. “Don’t even joke about that with me, I’m a wreck.”

“Yeah, well, you need all the help you can get. You were there for, what, three weeks, and you just kissed?”

“I am—”

“No, I commend you, cowboy, you just have eons more willpower than I do.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Now, which show?”

Leo had been thinking about it. Of course he’d been thinking about it. He pictured them in different cities. Walking different streets. But, in the end, there was no question. Leo wanted to be where they had figured everything out. Maybe they’d figure out each other, too.

“Italy,” Leo said. “I want Italy.”

~

He was nervous to see them, that was for sure. Cassie always followed through on her work quickly, but Leo felt like he had blinked through being home before he was staring down at an empty suitcase again. Italy. Milan. It would be warm. He’d be there for a week. Something casual for the shows. Something nice for press events. Something comfortable for…mornings? He stared in his underwear drawer for too long. When was the last time he’d had to care what he looked like in his underwear, much less what his underwear looked like. That turned into staring at his t-shirts for too long, only to pick up his Heartthrob O’Hara t-shirtand fold it into his suitcase. Then he sat on the edge of his bed and googled Logan Tremblay t-shirt. They weren’t that good. Grainy photos just plastered on fabric. He typed in Night Swimming lyric t-shirt. There were hundreds, but Leo had fun scrolling. He’d probably added too many things to his cart when he finally found what he was looking for. The shirt was white with four words in forest green on it.

OH MY

GREEN EYES

Leo bit back a smile and ordered it to be delivered tomorrow.

The next night, he was cooking dinner and squinting at his iPad, when the recipe webpage disappeared in favor of an incoming call.

“Milan?” Logan asked when Leo answered.

“Yep,” Leo said. He leaned his elbows on the counter. “Is that okay?”

“That’s longer,” Logan said.

“I know,” Leo sighed. “But it’s when I’m in between projects and can write your follow up.”

Finn mirrored his position, squeezing into the frame beside Logan. “Why don’t you come here right now? I’ll write you a note, get you out of school. Photoshoot tomorrow, you can watch us kiss on camera.” Finn snuck a hand out to grab Logan’s chin when he wasn’t looking and turned his face to kiss him, even if Logan was smiling too much to make it last.

Leo leaned forward. “I…As tempting as that is...”

“I liked it when we were your job,” Finn shot back. “You were around all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Not me,” Leo said. Finn blinked, and Leo fought a smile because he’d got him. “Kissing subjects is…”

“Fun?” Finn said. “A right we may exclusively reserve?”

Logan looked over at him with a smile and Leo was tempted to take a screenshot. He didn’t know how that would go over. He’d never taken a photograph of them himself. He knew that spooked some celebrities. In the beginning, he’d thought he’d die if he offended them. He still felt like that a bit.

“Shut up,” Logan said to Finn. “We don’t want to be Leo’s subjects.”

“I was kidding.”

“Listen,” Leo said. “It’s a right you can reserve, I’d just prefer you do it as you and not as Night Swimming.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He put his palm over the camera briefly, as if they had shaken on it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking dinner.” Leo said, mimicking Finn’s sing-song—and then realized he’d basically just sung in front of Finn and tried to forget about it. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to come back,” Logan said.

Leo arched a brow. “To cook you dinner?”

“Non,” Logan laughed. He rested his chin on a palm, and Leo got basically an entire screen full of those green eyes looking over—him, he realized. Logan’s gaze darted over his face like he could do it for hours. “Other things.”

Heat washed over him, and Leo bit his lip. “Hmm…Play me more songs?”

“Can do, Sunshine,” Finn said.

They kept him company while he finished cleaning up, taking him through the packet they’d been sent concerning their photoshoot tomorrow.

“We’re doing it down by the sea,” Finn said. He was lounging on the couch, Logan at his feet holding a cup of tea. “And some house shots.” He tapped the leather couch. “Probably right here. Or the kitchen…Well, if it’s the kitchen, I know what I’ll be thinking about.”

Leo laughed as he shut his dishwasher. “Yeah, that kitchen gets a lot of action when I’m there.”

“Not when I’m there,” Logan said.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Finn said, running his fingers through Logan’s hair. “We’ve got a pretty good track record in Italy, don’t we?”

~

Leo didn’t sleep much that night. He usually didn’t before a flight. Something about the anticipation. Not that this was bad anticipation. He let himself drift and think, rather than fall and worry. Still awake, but lighter. The story was out of his hands now, gone to turn into paper and ink. He would write his follow up, but then…

Just three people, Finn had said. Just three people.

On his nightstand, his phone lit up his dark ceiling. Leo turned his head. There weren’t many people who could get through his Do Not Disturb. Part of him got nervous, wondering if something was wrong, and he propped himself up on an elbow quickly, pulling the phone off its charger.

you’re awake

Three words, soft as a whisper. From Logan. Just Logan.

A moment later came the ?

Leo rolled onto his back, grinning.

are you spying on me somehow?

Finn said you have trouble sleeping, came the reply.

I do sometimes, Leo sent. And then, do you not like question marks or something?

I just thought I was right

Leo laughed out loud, all to himself.

well, I am awake.

are you okay? Logan asked.

Yeah. Just thinking.

A bit of a pause, just long enough to make Leo bite his lip.

about what?

Leo typed his reply out slowly, carefully. Savoring getting to say these words. Getting more than one kiss from you.

An immediate reply. maybe I won’t ruin it this time

Leo smiled. I think the last thing you did was ruin it.

:)

God. Smiley faces from Logan Tremblay.

go to sleep so you get here faster, Logan wrote. or just get here now.

Job—remember?

:(

Leo laughed again. I do have a surprise for you when I get there.

what is it? Logan asked immediately.

“Classic,” Leo whispered to himself, but just sent a smiley in return. Then, after a moment’s thought—

goodnight, green eyes

~

The article, when it came out, was hot as lightning. The photographs were gorgeous. Natural. They turned into each other like puzzle pieces, dressed in the muted, gentle browns of the house, and then the bright jewels of green and blue. But it was the opening show that came after it that caused the storm.

Leo didn’t get a single bit of work done—but neither did Cassie, so it was fine. He had never watched a grainy live stream closer and made Cassie go out and get him lunch so he didn’t have to get up. He brought his phone to the bathroom with him. He’d never refreshed Twitter so many times to find new photographs and videos. Finn, getting a pride flag thrown up to him at one point. The moments when they shared the microphone now sometimes ended in a kiss. A kiss. Leo was laughing and choked up all at once. Logan’s hat said rouge.

“Is there a reason you didn’t choose that show?” Cassie asked.

He’d thought about it. Being there. He could have gotten out of work—not in a I’m sort of kind of dating them and suddenly I miss them every second please let me go way but in a…this is important for the follow up way. But. He hadn’t. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“This is a long time coming for them,” Leo said carefully, and found it true. “This is something they thought they’d never have. It’s theirs. And I wanted them to have it more than anything.”

Cassie’s eyes softened. She’d wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “They better know how lucky they are if they’re getting you.”

Leo smiled and tilted their heads together, turning back to the show.

“Well, fuck,” Finn’s voice echoed through the stadium as he sat down at the piano. “You guys know what song’s coming by now, I guess.”

Rooftop, Leo thought, and shushed Cassie so harshly that she rolled her eyes and knocked him lightly on the shoulder.

Logan was still on stage, though, and getting up from behind his set. Leo’s heart leapt right into his throat.

“Something’s happening,” Leo said. “Something’s happening.”

“You shush,” Cassie said.

“Or at least you thought you did,” Finn said, then leaned back and laughed, the microphone barely catching it over the answering cheers. Logan crossed the stage, taking his time. Finn made room for him on the piano bench seat and Logan slotted perfectly against his side.

“No, look,” Finn played a few chords. “Rooftop has a special place in my heart, but it’s no part of tonight. Tonight…” He looked at Logan. “Tonight how about a little duet, Tremblay?”

Leo knew these chords. He loved these chords. And now, he could think of the lyrics that were about to come. They were probably some of the first words written about both of them letting themselves have each other…It was perfect. The crowd knew the song, too, and they were manic when Logan started playing the piano’s lower register, almost like a bass to Finn’s higher, softer melody.

A crew member brought out a second microphone and fixed it over the piano. Logan thanked him with a nod, and leaned in.

“You should have seen Finn trying to teach me piano,” his voice echoed.

Leo leaned closer to the screen. “Oh my God.”

Cassie sorted. “You’re so smitten.”

“They’re playing Keep.” 

“Yes, I know, I am a fan, too!”

I see you in the morning staring out over the waves.

I find I don’t need my instincts, never thought I’d see the day.

I could just roll over, yeah, I could close my eyes,

Cause I don’t have to grasp at glimpses, no, I’ve got my whole life.

I’ll tell anyone who asks, 

“Harmony, harmony,” Cassie said, imitating Leo’s accent.

Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and put his palm over her mouth. But she was right. The harmony, Logan joining in on the chorus, was exquisite.

I’ll show anyone who wants to see.

Like sea glass, or pebbles found on the beach.

Oh God, look at what I get to keep.

I’ll hold it as long as my breath lasts.

I’ll say it in all the languages they speak.

Like histories or songs sung while out at sea,

Hey Sunshine, what do you say you keep me?

Cassie made a strangled noise before Leo could. She pulled Leo’s hand away from her mouth.

“Sunshine? He just—They just changed the lyrics,” Cassie said. She got her arms around Leo’s waist and shrieked, making everyone in the office look at them. “He changed the lyrics.”

Leo was going to melt into his keyboard. Or cry? No. He was going to love them.

“I see you in the kitchen just before we go to sleep—” Finn gave his head a little, sharp shake, smiling, and when he looked up, Leo saw that he was crying, unable to sing through it. The crowd filled in. I find I don’t need my instincts, you are mine to keep.

Leo touched his lips lightly. Leo wouldn’t forget that sound, the stadium singing for them like that, even through a video. Not ever. He wouldn’t forget the feeling of knowing how much Finn and Logan deserved it. And how much he wanted them to have this. And how sweet is was when Logan played the last note, Finn wrapping an arm around him and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple, and Logan catching Finn’s tears with a gentle hand.

Finn found one of the stadium cameras, touched a hand to his mouth, and held it out.

Oh God, Leo was going to really love them.

~

Leo could feel the change in the air the moment he stepped of his airplane. Humid, but light. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-down and put his sunglasses on as he stepped into the warm afternoon. He was a little groggy from his flight, but not too bad. He was hungry, though, and in desperate need of a coffee—which he was most certainly in the right place for.

“Mr. Knut?”

Leo turned, pulling his suitcase up to his side. A man was standing there, sleek in a light gray suit and a driver’s cap. He had a neatly tripped gray beard, kind eyes, and a light British accent.

“Yes?” Leo said. “Oh, are you—”

“Mr. Tremblay’s driver, yes. Ralph, it’s a pleasure.” Ralph motioned towards his suitcase. “Might I take care of that for you, sir, on the way to the car?”

“Oh, no, that’s all right,” Leo said. “But thank you. It’s nice enough of him to send you to get me. Very kind.”

“Yes, he was very keen. This way, sir.”

Leo followed him the short distance to the car park, remarking on the weather just because he wasn’t used to being called sir. Ralph was kind about it, offering small talk right back. The car was shiny and black, the windows so dark and opaque that Leo guessed that was why Logan used it. He stored his suitcase and laptop bag and stuttered around Ralph opening his door for him.

“Oh, wow—thanks so much.”

“Of course, sir.”

Leo slid into the smooth, leather seat. The whole car smelled new. There was a water bottle waiting for him in the door side pocket, nestled into a tortoise shell cup holder. Leo took his sunglasses off just as the door shut—

And then someone was grabbing onto his shirt and tugging. An insistent, warm mouth covered his, swallowing Leo’s sound of surprise.

Logan. The warm, pine scent of him. The feeling of canvas when Leo made to touch his hair. The weight of him swinging a leg over Leo’s lap. Callouses on his hands where they smoothed up Leo’s neck.

“Hello,” Leo gasped. “Fuck.”

“Hi.” Logan barely said the word before he was kissing him again. Leo had to let his head rest back against the seat he was so dizzy with it. His mouth probably tasted sour, he was probably sweaty, maybe he even smelled from the plane, but Logan didn’t seem to care.

“Where’s—”

“Sound check,” Logan gasped, and then he had Leo’s bottom lip gently between his teeth, pulling and letting go. “He’ll be at the hotel by the time we get there.”

“You don’t need—your sound checked?”

“I need this.”

From his place on Leo’s lap, Logan put a hand on the ceiling. For a moment, Leo wondered what the hell he was in for in the back of this car, but Logan’s fingers found a button that he pushed and up a partition between them and Ralph began to rise.

“Hotel, sir?” Ralph asked as the sheet rose.

“Merci,” Logan confirmed, and then the partition cut them off in a muffled, tinted-window bubble of their own making and Logan’s hungry green eyes were all Leo was left with.

Their breathing sounded loud to Leo’s ears. He got his first good look at Logan. White t-shirt, black cotton shorts. Green hat, backwards. Tan, gorgeous, just like Leo remembered him, but even more real. A small scratch on his cheek from somewhere. He’d cut himself shaving on his chin, a little red dot. Leo reached up and took off his hat, letting his bangs fall forward in their gentle waves. They were pretty light from all the sunshine.

“Can he…” Leo whispered. “Can Ralph hear us?”

Slowly, Logan shook his head.

Leo reached up and tucked his fingers through Logan’s hair. He could have lived off of the way Logan’s eyes slipped closed. “How long is the drive?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Hm.”

Logan’s smile looked like one of his soft, lulling songs. “What does that mean?”

Leo didn’t answer. He’d been taken by surprise, but that was fading now. All it left behind was want and relief. For now, he was done with the distance and the florescent lights of his office. He was back in Logan’s arms.

Thirty minutes felt like five. Logan’s soft sounds filled him right up as Leo kissed his neck—that was when Ralph’s gentle knock from the driver’s seat came. Leo broke off, startled. His mouth felt puffy—and good. Logan’s warm weight felt like the only thing holding him together.

“Ouais,” Logan called. “One moment.”

As Logan leaned their foreheads together, the world filtered back in. Leo became aware of the sound of a crowd outside, and had to laugh.

“Are we about to be photographed?”

“Probably a little,” Logan said. “It’s okay. You wouldn’t believe how many times Finn and I have had this happen.”

“What, got a little heavy in the car?”

Logan grinned, ducking to kiss Leo again. “Mhm.”

“That’s…” Really hot.

Logan slid off his lap, back to his side. They both spent a moment trying to pull themselves together. Logan would have to get out first, which made Leo feel a little better.

“They’ll bring your bags to the room,” Logan said. He slipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Ready?”

Hands banged against the windows, making Leo jump. There were some chants of Finn’s name, along with Logan’s, and Leo realized they didn’t know who was in the car. “I—yeah.” The room. “I think so.”

Logan considered him for a moment, then took off his own hat and placed it, bill forward, on Leo’s head.

“Oh,” Leo said. “Do I look—”

“You look how I want you to look. Merde, I want Finn to see you.” Logan grinned. “But it may be a bit much for a photo.”

Leo reached up and touched the hat. It was green and had said the word LOVE on it. That was a story Leo wanted to write. Logan could say a lot with his hats. There were whole twitter accounts dedicated to the way he hinted at future songs or albums with what was on his hat.

LOVE. Leo was wearing the word love.

“I know I shouldn’t hold your hand quite yet,” Logan began, trailing off.

Leo laughed. “That would spark some wild rumors.”

Logan looked at him over the rim of his glasses, the shadow making his green eyes bright. “Stay close to me, okay?” He popped the car door and the sound of the crowd doubled, frenzied, screaming, yearning. “Stay close.”

Leo could hear his own heartbeat. He could feel it in his throat. He did want to hold Logan’s hand. “I will.”

And Leo experienced the cameras and fans from an entirely different view. He’d followed Finn and Logan around. He’d never walked with them, not like this. Not side by side in a way that signaled to everyone he was with them.

He stuck close to Logan’s back, as promised. He caught some curious looks, felt phone cameras trained on him. The sun was bright and he was very glad for Logan’s hat. He tried to take it in, if for nothing further than that this was the biggest crowd he’d ever followed a star through from this close, but it was over in a flash. They were in a cool hotel lobby, marble and stone, and a smiling woman, motioning them to the elevator. Logan’s two security guards got in with them.

The sudden silence was loud. Logan took his sunglasses off, casually folding them into his shirt and leaning back against the wall as they rose.

“Here we go, Tremz,” one of the guards said, fist bumping Logan as he passed him through the open doors. “See you tonight. Remind Finn the dinner res he asked for is at eight-thirty.”

“Thanks, Paul.” Logan looked back from the hallway. “Leo?”

“Sorry,” Leo said and strode forward. “Thanks—Thanks, Paul.”

Paul was a massive guy, but when he smiled he looked like a teddy bear. “You got it, man.”

There was only one door on this hallway, right in front of them with a large brass knocker, and no sooner had the elevator shut than did it swing open to reveal Finn—sweaty, in a soft looking gray t-shirt and running shorts, and grinning.

“Jesus,” Logan said. “You scared me.”

“I heard the ding,” Finn said cheerfully.

He was looking right at Leo. Leo drew Logan’s hat off, trying to catch his breath.

“There were crowds,” Logan said, as if explaining.

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Are you guys famous or something?”

Finn ignored the joke. He walked right up to Leo, wrapped him up in his arms, and held on tight. Leo had maybe been expecting a kiss—probably something a tad more obvious than Logan’s sneak-attack. But the hug was better. Finn was warm. He smelled like sweat and sunscreen from being on stage.

“Hi,” Finn whispered in his ear. He pulled back, holding Leo’s cheek briefly, then gently tweaked a curl of Leo’s blond hair. “Hi, Sunshine.”

Leo covered Finn’s hand, turning his mouth against it. “Hi.”

“Come here,” Finn said, laughing. “Come in.”

“Ouais.” Logan put a hand low on Leo’s back, guiding him through the suite door. “Where’s my surprise?”

“What surprise?” Finn asked as the door shut behind them. Sure enough, Leo’s bags were waiting there, neatly side-by-side near the small kitchen.

“Not till later,” Leo said.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “How later?”

“Tomorrow later.”

Logan huffed.

Finn came up behind him, pressing a small cup into his hand. Espresso.

“Oh, how did you know?” Leo sipped it down easily. Hot and slightly sweet with sugar.

“You’re in Italy,” Finn said. Next he was wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. “You understand that if it’s a physical surprise, he’s going to dig through your luggage?”

Leo toyed with his delicate espresso cup.“Not if I say not to.”

Finn’s chin hooked over his shoulder. Leo could feel his laugh against his skin. His strong chest against his back. His hips— “You think he’ll listen to you?”

They both regarded Logan, who was still glaring at them—and glancing at Leo’s suitcase.

“I think he will.”

“Hm,” Finn said, and Leo felt a kiss land on his neck. “I think you’re right.” Another kiss to the exact same spot. Over a mark Logan had made? “I see someone has already gotten to you.”

“I was accosted in the car,” Leo said.

“Classic.”

Logan just rolled his eyes and began dragging Leo’s suitcase into another room.

By that night, the fans who didn’t read up on their music stories had already figured out who he was. Leo Knut—last seen on the road writing the coming out piece on Night Swimming. Sure enough, Twitter was full of wearing Lo’s hat wearing Lo’s hat???

“Ooh, you’re so undercover,” Finn commented when he glimpsed Leo’s phone once they were back in the car, speeding through the night on the way to dinner. “They don’t know what’s coming for them.”

Leo clicked his phone off even as Cassie texted nice hat. He looked at Logan, at a purplish bruise Leo had left on his neck. “No, they really don’t.”

Logan covered the mark with his palm and grinned out the window. Leo laughed, looking, too, then paused.

“Hey, are we leaving the city?”

“Yep,” Finn said.

“Where?” Logan asked.

Finn shrugged exaggeratedly. He’d changed into a dark blue button down, light slacks, and pretty brown leather shoes that Leo badly wanted a pair of. He’d pushed a dark green button down towards Logan, dark trousers, and white, pristine sneakers. He’d taken one look at Leo and told him he was perfect, but Leo had showered and changed anyway. Dusty red shirt. He’d followed Finn’s lead and left the collar loose.

Logan kicked at Finn from his seat across from the both of them. Finn just stuck his tongue out and took Leo’s hand across the console between them. Leo stared at it for a moment. Finn’s pale fingers that would be playing a guitar to thousands of people tomorrow were right there wrapped up in his own.

“Where?” Logan insisted.

“Jesus, Lo, can neither of us try and surprise you? I know you found all your presents as a kid, but you’re not finding the ones I give you.” Finn dropped a wink. “I’ll give it to you when I decide.”

Apparently where was a castle. Literally a castle. Soft lights flooded up the old stones to reveal turrets and archways. A man in a tuxedo was waiting for them at the entrance. They were given champagne in thin, airy glasses and leave to roam the lit gardens before their dinner was served. The air was mild, but the feeling of Finn and Logan at his shoulders was better. Finn had something to say about every flower, every piece of architecture, as if he had studied up for this night. They ate dinner under the stars, watching fireflies dart through the greenery.

It wasn’t until they had been served an array of desserts and left truly alone that Leo thought to bring up the article and how they were doing—it was different to ask without a screen between them.

“We’re so good,” Finn said. He looked at Logan, who nodded. Finn wrapped an arm around Logan’s chair, scooting it closer to his. Leo watched him lean into him. His brown eyes flickered to Leo even as his lips brushed Logan’s skin. “Lo?”

“Ouais, I…” Logan gave up on words and tucked his face into Finn’s neck, laughing.

Leo leaned back in his chair, glad the table let him stretch his still plane-cramped legs out under the table. “It’s so nice to see you up there. Really. I can’t wait for tomorrow. You just look so…free.”

“We feel free,” Finn said. “And it’s thanks to you.” He held out a hand across the linen tablecloth and, after a moment, Leo took it. “How are you, Le?”

Leo let out a slow breath, watching the way Finn’s thumb tracked across his knuckles. “I’m…” He laughed a little. “That’s quite a question. Really quite a question.”

Logan laughed, and when Leo realized he was laughing at him, he threw a sugar coated almond at him in a neat arc across the table—which lost all its effect when Logan caught it in his mouth.

“Non, seriously.” Logan leaned more into Finn’s side. “Leo?”

Leo looked around them. They both had a knack for finding these slices of paradise. Though, lately it had been feeling like any where they were was heaven, even his own kitchen.

“Being on tour with you was wonderful,” Leo answered. “And Nice was, of course, perfect. So beautiful…God, this is beautiful.”

“Why am I sensing a but?” Finn asked, brows drawn together. Logan looked downright nervous.

Leo shook his head, bringing his other hand to hold Finn’s as well. “No. Well, yes, but not like that.”

They both looked at him expectantly. Patiently.

“You’ve been sweet in waiting for me. And honest about wanting me.”

“We fumbled and recovered,” Finn said.

“We do want you,” Logan said earnestly.

“Well, I…I hope so,” Leo said softly. Finn’s hand tightened around his.

“Yeah?” Finn whispered.

Leo nodded. Logan couldn’t quite reach with the angle, but he reached for Leo, too, hand on Finn’s wrist.

“It’s been—what? A week and a half of video calls? You know all these glorious places are amazing, but when we’re just sitting around…I mean, when we’re just talking… Or you’re watching me wash dishes, do laundry. And I start to feel like…”

He felt the words well in his throat like tears as he looked between them. He understood Cassie’s hesitation. He understood his own hesitation. He’d been nervous that he’d come back and something would have changed. Like adrenaline leaving the system. But it hadn’t.

“I’ve never not known how to be without someone before,” Leo said. “But you make me feel like I don’t remember how to be alone.”

Finn’s smile was tearful and Leo realized he felt a little like that, too, even as Finn leaned forward and kissed him. It dissolved into a laugh, into kiss to his cheek. A piece of silverware clattered to the ground as Finn tugged Leo’s chair closer and hugged him as best he could.

“Rouge, you’re pulling the table cloth, the table—” Logan’s voice came, laughing. Leo heard his chair scoot back and then there was another pair of arms around Leo’s neck, Logan leaning over the back of his chair. He managed a sloppy kiss to Leo’s mouth, despite the angle.

Leo closed his eyes and held on. He waited for Finn to make him laugh. Or Logan to say something in French. But they stayed quiet, surprising him. He peeked one eye open, only to see that Finn, whose forehead was pressed against Leo’s temple, had his eyes closed, too. Leo didn’t dare move him to try and get at Logan, but the content sigh he felt against his neck was enough to go on for him. Wind whistled through the trees around them, bring the smell of some sweet flower. Leo closed his eyes again and leaned back into Logan’s shoulder and Finn’s arm. It was like a blanket, their quiet. They’d been more serene than he’d expected from the beginning—puzzles, dinner, reading, morning runs. This was something deeper. It was as if something unhappy had finally been able to settle for them, too. The questions were still there. How will this work? What will people think? But they were muted and far off.

They looked up at footsteps on the patio, only to find a surprised waiter holding a pitcher of water.

“Ah,” the waiter said. “Pardon me. Uh…”

“Hi,” Finn said, only lifting his head. “Yeah, we’ll take the check.”

~

They laughed about it on the car ride home, the waiter’s face. Speeding through dark hills, and then streets still filled with chatter and light. Leo watched out the window as they slowed in narrower streets. It gave him a glimpses of passing faces. Laughing, eating, kissing.

Finn’s hand pressed to his thigh. “Are you composing sentences right now? I think you are.”

Leo looked over at him. “Maybe. And you?”

“I’ve been watching you two write in your heads for the last ten minutes,” Logan said. He’d stretched his legs out so their feet slotted together in the car space between them.

“Well, no one got on my lap, I had to do something to pass the time,” Leo said, squeezing one of Logan’s ankles between his own.

Logan just looked at him with bright eyes. “I don’t want to have to stop.”

Leo let his head fall back against the seat and he put his hand over Finn’s. “You just deal with that every day?”

“All day,” Finn said. “You don’t even want to know the things he says to me before we go on stage.” Finn laughed and scooted over in his seat, pressing right up against Leo’s side. “Actually, you probably do.”

No one was waiting at the hotel this time. There were no bright flashes to catch what Leo was sure was an intense flush on his cheeks. They stayed close in the elevator, their security shaking their heads at how giddy they probably sounded—all that content silence had bubbled into talking over each other and far too loud laughter. Finn fumbled a little with the hotel key, but then they were inside the suite and met with a blast of AC. Finn went to turn it down, but Logan got his hands on Leo’s waist and pulled until Leo had him pinned right up against the side of the entrance hall.

“This is how I first met you,” Leo said, staring down at him. He traced a hand under Logan’s jaw and watched the way he bared his neck for more. “I was so surprised. And you were so beautiful. And also you literally did not stop making out with Finn which was, like, okay then.”

Finn’s laugh reached them. “I asked him that after you left. I was like, how long was he standing there actually? And he wouldn’t tell me.”

“What’d you want, Lo?” Leo whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly. “Me to walk in ready to go right then?”

“Non, I wanted to see if you thought I was hot,” Logan said, then laughed as Leo pulled back to follow Finn’s voice into the living room. He called after him, “And you do!”

Finn had his dress shirt half unbuttoned and his belt in one hand, frowning at something on his phone.

“You okay there difficult rock star?” Leo asked, trying not to stare at his pale chest against the blush color.

Finn looked up, all big brown eyes suddenly—how did he do that? Switch between unbearably hot to unbearably sweet in two seconds—and smiled. “Oh. This isn’t what it looks like.” He gestured to himself with his belt. “I just wanted to change. And yeah, just tomorrow’s call times.”

Call times. Show tomorrow. Leo took a breath. Right. What time was it? Midnight? One? Leo knew they should sleep. He’d seen them on the nights before shows many times now. Logan drank mint tea. Finn read. Unless they had friends at the shows, or family, they tried to get as much sleep as they could. Logan slept in as much as he could. Finn seemed incapable of sleeping in, but he went for a run and he ordered up a big breakfast. God, Leo wanted to make them breakfast again. He wanted the way they sat with him, looked at him, made him coffee.

Leo nodded. He emptied his pockets, setting his phone and wallet on a side table. “I hope it’s not too early? I know your routines the night before a show and this isn’t it. It’s early for me, technically. But it’s late for you.”

Leo’s eyes drew down Finn’s body again. The half-untucked shirt. He was pretty sure those socks he was wearing were the ones advertised on TV offering arch support. Why, why was that hot right now? It was. And maybe Leo wanted the way Finn looked right now to be exactly what it looked like. What then?

Finn was quiet, glancing at Logan as he came into the room and sat on the back of the couch to look at Leo. Finn drew in a slow breath, stretching his arms up and behind his head, so that when he spoke his voice came out tensed like his muscles—which Leo could see more of now, the sharp cut just above his waistline. “I mean, you could…” He grinned, dropping his arms and relaxing. “We could get you on the right time zone.”

Leo bit at the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t exactly the line he’d heard in Finn’s voice during all of his laundry-folding day dreams, but it was so very Finn that it was better.

“What did your team think when you said I’d be staying with you?” Leo glanced up around the room. “I mean, in the same…” Bedroom? “Suite.”

“They’re our team for a reason,” Finn said. “They know what’s their business, and what’s ours.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “And my being a reporter isn’t their business? I bet at least a few people would disagree with that.”

“You’re not the kind of reporter they worry about,” Logan said. “Unless you suddenly revealed a long-range camera in your suitcase.” He tilted his head teasingly. “That’s not the surprise, is it?”

“No,” Leo laughed. “Definitely not the surprise.”

“And just to be clear,” Finn said. “Because looks like we’re not great on being clear—”

“Room, not suite,” Logan cut in.

“Jeez, way to grab my punchline and yank it out from beneath my feet.” Finn strode closer and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “But yes. We were hoping…I mean, there is another room. Two other, in fact, for you to choose from.” He tilted his head. “But I was hoping just your suitcase would be staying there.”

“We,” Logan said, rising from his seat.

“We were hoping.”

Logan stood in front of Leo. He held out his hands palm up, and Leo put his palms into them. Logan gave a gentle tug. When Leo hesitated, worrying the inside of his cheek, it took about half a second for concern to flicker over Logan’s face.

“Le?” he asked gently. “What…What did I do?”

“No, no, no,” Leo said. “Nothing. I want that. I really, really want that. I just…” Leo sighed, cursing himself. The nerves he’d felt while packing sprung back at him. Look at them. Look at them.

“It’s been a while for me,” Leo said softly. “I mean—I mean a while. And you two know each other—so well. I just don’t want…to, like, disappoint, or…”

“Non,” Logan said.

“You couldn’t,” Finn added. “Leo, you couldn’t disappoint us. Like, ever.”

Leo knew that. He did. He even believed it. It didn’t stop the idea that he would from making him want to crawl under the covers and hide.

“I’m looking at two people who know each other inside and out,” Leo said. “And I love that about you two. But—yeah. That’s all.”

Finn and Logan looked at each other. Leo didn’t mind the silent communication ability. He even liked it. It was sweet. In his dreams, he got that ability with them, too. One day.

Finn stepped forward. It wasn’t the stage walk. It was just him. Even in the button-down that Leo now knew to be the softest linen, it was just him. Not all the photos Leo had seen of fans catching him on the street—sunglasses, t-shirt, notebook or coffee…smiling, talking with them, and uncapping Sharpies with his teeth. Leo had looked at the photos from that particular day a lot. A lot. Summer in New York, headed to the recording studio, stooping so a girl could slip a necklace she had made him over his head.

“Okay.” Finn smiled softly. “There’s one thing we can do no matter what. It’s late. We can just get ready for bed and…and then whatever you want.”

Logan nodded. “Whatever you want.”

“We do know each other through and through,” Finn said. He tucked a stray curl behind Leo’s ear, but Leo felt it spring back into place. “Which is why we know how much we want you here.”

Leo shook his head, putting a hand against Finn’s chest. “You don’t have to convince me. I’m just…” Leo looked to Logan. “I…This is like a dream? A really good dream.”

“Leo.” Finn’s voice was overly serious, but Leo caught the spark in his eye. “Were we your celebrity crushes or something?” 

Leo’s laugh surprised him, head falling back. “Finn.”

“Aw,” Finn wrapped his arms around Leo’s waist. “I embarrassed him. Look, Lo, we were his celebrity crush.”

“First, I meant because you’re so sweet. And second, I’m pretty sure you could attempt world domination with the number of people who would name you if asked who their crush is,” Leo said.

“Maybe,” Finn replied. “But I only care about one.”

It was the little things, first. Logan left small pools of water all around the sink when he washed his face. He went to Leo’s luggage, and Leo only had time to call out a warning don’t before Logan was pulling out a t-shirt with a delighted laugh. Thankfully, it wasn’t his surprise one…But it was Finn’s.

Leo was brushing his teeth next to Finn O’Hara in Italy, and Logan Tremblay was holding up his HEARTTHROB O’HARA t-shirt with a grin on his face that said it all.

“That was also a surprise,” Leo said around his toothpaste. He groaned, and put a hand over Finn’s delighted eyes as passed him to go rinse his mouth.

When he leaned up from the faucet, Finn was there, rinsing beside him. Leo cleared his throat, laughing a little under the feeling of Finn’s gaze. He tried to escape, honestly he had no idea what to say, but two hands caught his hips and a hard, warm chest met Leo’s back.

They looked at each other in the mirror. The lights were soft and dim, bringing out each of Finn’s freckles. Leo put his hand over where Finn’s rested low on his stomach.

“I’m embarrassed,” Leo said, smiling down at the sink. “It’s stupid, right?”

With a slight pressure to his hip, Finn turned Leo around. Leo rested back against the counter’s edge, and Finn nudged his way to stand between his thighs. He carded Leo’s hair back from his face, the ends damp from washing his face.

“Nothing about you could ever be stupid,” Finn said.

Leo traced the N of his NASA t-shirt, then one of the trails on a shooting star. “You probably see people in that shirt all the time. Probably have signed that shirt a million times.” Leo closed his eyes. “Shit. I’d say I’m not some crazy fan, but younger me was definitely a crazy fan.” He looked up at Finn. “But you know all about crazy fans.”

Finn smiled a little. He barely had to tilt his chin forward at all to brush their mouths together. “I do know a little about that.”

“So maybe the shirt doesn’t even matter?” Leo asked hopefully. Finn’s brown eyes were staring at his mouth—that still had toothpaste on it maybe?

“Everything about you matters,” Finn said, and kissed him.

It brought back the rush of the ocean. The heat of the sun, sitting against those cliffs when Leo had been so confused, so in want. He knew how to hold himself together. God, if there was one thing he was so very good at in this world, it was holding himself together.

“Maybe I’m your crazy fan,” Finn whispered. “I’ve been stalking your writing for long enough.”

Leo laughed. “Mm, that’s true.” He reached up for Finn’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

He didn’t want to hold himself together anymore. He didn’t want to hold back. Nothing he knew even compared to this. Not the fame, not the novelty. This. Worn out t-shirts and getting to have a perfect fit in a legendary love like theirs. These were new muscles, letting himself go, and he’d been straining them with these two. They felt stronger now.

The band of his pajama pants was wet from being pressed back into Logan’s puddles. Finn tasted minty, and with him standing between Leo’s thighs like this, Leo got to tilt his head up into the kiss.

“How do I look?”

They broke apart to see Logan standing in the bathroom doorway. He wore a soft looking pair of gray boxers, and his chest and arms filled out Leo’s t-shirt in a way Leo had never, would never have even thought, to imagine.

While Leo sat there staring, Finn laughed. “That thing looks like it’s about to fall to pieces.”

He wasn’t wrong. There was a hole near the collar, the letters were faded at the edges. But it was so damn soft from years of being washed that Leo couldn’t bare to part with it. He reached up and pushed his fingers through Finn’s hair. That gorgeous red hair. Maybe there was so much more he couldn’t part with now.

“Ouais, me too,” Logan said. Leo didn’t know what he was talking about until he walked forward and reached up for Finn’s hair, completely messing it up. “Everyone’s obsessed with it, but how can you not be?”

Leo laughed as Finn squinted one eye shut but let them have their fun. It was soft and thick, the sorter strands at the sides feathering through Leo’s fingers like velvet.

Finn put a hand on Logan’s chest, tapping over the letters of Leo’s t-shirt. “I always guessed that was why everything they put my name in is red, too.”

“Marketing?” Leo said.

“Yeah.” Finn sighed, shrugged, then smiled. “Le, that shirt really is about to fall apart.”

“I…wear it a lot.”

“Oh yeah? All around the city with my name on your heart?”

Leo bit his lip. It was more than that. It was what he wore when he was sad, or had had a bad day. When he was sick, or exhausted, or angry.

And then, over the past month, that comfort had shifted to them. A bad day at work ended with four hour FaceTimes until Leo was too sleepy to talk anymore and Finn’s soft voice. Goodnight, Sunshine. And when he couldn’t sleep, somehow Logan always knew. The soft light of his phone lighting up his bedroom from his nightstand and never letting him feel alone or sinking or like he would never sleep again.

“Le?” Finn asked softly. His hair was a mess from their hands. His eyes were pure syrup again, asking, checking, worried—loving?

“Hi,” Leo said. “Sorry, hi.” He put a hand on Finn’s cheek and looked at Logan.

Logan tilted his head. “What are you writing right now, Soleil?”

Leo closed his eyes briefly at the nickname, leaning his head back to bask in it. “Dialogue, I guess.”

“Ouais,” Logan said, wrapping an arm around Leo’s waist. It completed the circle of the three of them. “Of?”

“How to ask you to take me to bed,” Leo whispered.

“Yes,” Finn breathed, and then Leo was being kissed.

He’d written a lot of words in his life. It was almost funny to be asked what he was writing right then. He wasn’t even sure this was something that could be written. What did kiss have on what Finn gave him? It was just what Leo remembered. The heated energy from that middle of the night kiss in Nice, only tripled.

“Hey.” Logan’s voice was low. Leo felt fingers tighten in his hair and he gasped, breaking Finn’s kiss long enough to be pulled to another mouth. The ocean and the shade. The shade and the ocean. Finn’s laugh echoed against the bathroom tiles. He was watching them. He had a hand on Leo’s back, and probably Logan’s, and let them kiss.

No, Leo couldn’t have written this down. Logan, pulling him towards the bedroom. Finn flicking off the bathroom light and leaving them in the yellow-pink glow of a reading lamp and the moon.

“I’d raise the sun if I could,” he said. He caught Leo up around the waist again. “Just because it’s dark in here doesn’t mean I want it to be.”

“Finn.” It sounded pleading, but Leo hadn’t meant it that way. Not stop. Not more. Just… “Have some compassion for how full my heart can be right now, O’Hara.”

And then Leo took that famous NASA t-shirt right off of him. The stars and the comet trails, they were still there. Finn’s torso was its own sky map and Leo, wondering what Finn liked, bent to kiss a trail of his own along one thin collarbone.

What words existed for the feeling of Finn chest rising and falling against his mouth.

What words could Leo have used to describe the smile Logan gave him as he let Leo pull his t-shirt off of him next? All Leo could comprehend was the sheer strength of his arms and the dark trail of hair that led down into his boxers.

There were no hesitations, like Leo had thought there would be. The pauses were woven in, just turns and folds and lifts like pages. Yes? This? Grins and breaths and—Logan’s sounds. Logan. Logan knew what he wanted. Finn knew what Logan wanted. Leo, very quickly, knew what Logan wanted and shared a slightly dazed grin with Finn about it. He got to watch Finn’s practiced fingers, and see how much Finn enjoyed giving Logan everything he could possibly desire. It was as sweet as it was unbearably hot. Finn looked so pale against Logan’s tanned skin. Marble. That was a word Leo had used before, but it applied. Jesus Christ, it applied.

What did grip have on the way Logan clutched at Leo’s shoulders when they were at last as close as anything could be, his thighs shaking against Leo’s. Bliss, certainly, was nothing compared to the look on Logan’s face when Finn’s hand pressed over the strong curve of his adam’s apple and asked him how he liked it, told him they looked gorgeous. Throbbing held nothing to the way Leo’s heart pounded, and more than nothing to how close those words brought him to the edge. Rhythm. That’s what Logan had. Leo set his hands against the small of his back—two dimples there, made for Leo’s thumbs—and held on.

“Mm—” Logan’s breath came out short and he froze, mouth open against Leo’s neck. His back was slick with sweat now. Finn sat back on his heels just beside them, working himself slowly.

“What you waiting for, baby?” Finn breathed. He’d not been moving much, but there was a sheen over his nose and temples, too. Just from watching. Now, he shifted behind Leo and wrapped his arms around his waist, nuzzling under his jaw.

Leo reached between them and Logan muffled his sound in Leo’s neck. Logan hadn’t been warm from the second he met him, but oh, he was warm now. Burning in Leo’s hands, against Leo’s body.

“I just want it to last,” Logan said shakily, but he was moving again, like he couldn’t help it. “You’re leaving in two days.” Logan wrapped his arms fully around Leo’s shoulders. “Don’t.”

“Don’t even know how—” Leo’s eyes slipped shut and he tried to breathe through the mix of white hot pleasure and blue tenderness pulsing through him. “How to think about leaving.” He smoothed his hands up Logan’s back, feeling the way it flexed as Logan moved against him.

“Ouais,” Logan said, a smile slipping across his face. He pulled back, his breathing jumping as their hips shifted. He kissed Leo hard, then cursed softly and let his head fall back. “Fuck…Leo…”

With his hair falling back and out of his eyes like that, Leo’s language left him entirely. He’d seen him like this on stage, lost in the music. He’d watched from the VIP booth, from the wings. Logan was closer to him than Finn was, always staying in one place. He’d seen the lights catch his every angle as he threw his head back, sweat dampening his dark hair, and played with everything he had. Tonight, Leo felt like theirs in that same way.

The sheets were kicked towards the end of the bed, or pooled on the floor. Leo’s head was on Finn’s chest, Logan’s forehead pressed to the top of his spine. Leo couldn’t stop touching them. He trailed his fingertips down Finn’s chest and watched goosebumps follow in their wake. Logan had a thigh thrown over his hip and Leo stroked the unbearably soft skin behind his knee. He dipped his thumb in the divot below Finn’s bottom lip.

Finn smiled sleepily, his eyes closed. His eyelashes were dark just now. In certain lights they tinged lighter, like his hair. “You’re ticklish.”

“You’re soft,” Leo replied.

“Is he asleep?” Finn whispered.

“Non,” came Logan’s voice, though he sounded part of the way there.

“I’m not kidding.” Leo reached back to hold Logan’s hip. “I’m getting up if I start keeping you awake with my tossing around.”

That was a lie. There was nothing that could haul Leo out of where he was right now.

“Nu-uh.” Finn kissed Leo’s temple. “No tossing. Not with the weighted blanket I have.”

“You travel with a weighted blanket?” Leo asked skeptically.

Finn reached out and picked up Logan’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Sure do.”

“Oh,” Leo laughed.

“One-hundred percent effective, I promise.”

When Finn turned the lights off, it sent the room into near complete darkness and so Leo could do nothing but feel, in every nerve, and expanse of exposed skin, the way Logan nudged his nose into the soft hair at his nape, and the way Finn rolled onto his side to hold them both.

“Show tomorrow,” Finn whispered. “You ready?”

Leo smiled. “Do I have to be ready? I think that’s supposed my question to you two.”

“You have to be ready,” Finn placed a kiss to his neck. “It’s a Leo show.”

[glitterrosesnzz]

can I ask something with a sick venti?i miss him trying to hide his wings even when he feels bad(imagine if he accidentally slaps the traveler with them)

as usual when it comes to me writing m/ondstadt, a bunch of characters who weren't intended to be here ended up showing up anyways-

~

When Aether entered the Dawn Winery, per the request of Diluc's message (which had been urgently sent via bird), the first thing he saw was Kaeya standing in the foyer.

"...Shouldn't you be upstairs helping out?" Aether asked. Kaeya avoided his eyes for a moment, then fixed him with an award winning smile that Aether was not the least bit fooled by.

"I got kicked out. ...For reasons." Kaeya said- and it was at this point that Aether belatedly noticed the layer of frost slowly melting off of the cavalry captain's hands.

"For reasons, huh?" Aether deadpanned, reaching into his pocket dimension and rummaging around for a moment. Eventually he seemed to find what he was looking for, as he pulled out a small bag. "Well- I guess you can do this then- I got some leaves from the Windrise tree and some other... tea stuff. At the very least adding the Windrise leaves to it should help Venti a little. ...I think."

"Ah, reduced to the job of boiling water." Kaeya took the offered bag and started walking in the direction of the kitchen.

"Don't burn it!" Aether called after him.

"Is it even possible to burn water?"

"I'm sure there are ways." A vivid memory of the last time the Raiden Shogun had tried cooking sprung to mind. Aether shook the thought out of his head, and turned and headed upstairs to the bedrooms. As soon as he got up there, he could make out the sound of voices coming from the guest room.

"Bard, get back in that bed right now or so help me-"

"I didn't take you as the type to infringe on other's freedoms, Master Diluc-"

"Alright, that's it-"

Aether opened the door at just the right time to witness Diluc grab Venti by the waist and lift him up and away from the window the anemo archon had clearly been trying to get to. Venti barely even struggled, although he did kick his legs a little bit, clearly trying half-heartedly to hit Diluc and not at all succeeding.

A quick glance to the side revealed that Jean was also in the room, her hand against her forehead in barely restrained frustration.

"Diluc, please be gentle with him." She said, quietly acknowledging the Traveler's presence with a small nod. Diluc didn't verbally respond to her, but Aether could've sworn he saw him roll his eyes.

Venti was practically pouting as he was placed back down onto the bed, crossing his arms and glaring at Diluc, which the other pointedly ignored. Aether finally got a chance to take in Venti's appearance- his hair was all mussed up, and one of his braids was coming undone. The ends of his hair were glowing with the teal of anemo, and that, combined with the flush on his face, was all the information Aether needed to know that Venti was most likely running a fever.

It was only once Aether was standing directly beside the bed that Venti finally took notice of him.

"Oh, hey Traveler!" Venti sniffled a little, rubbing his nose against his sleeve. "Would you mind telling these two that I am perfectly fine enough to make a lil trip to Old Mondstadt?"

"Ha, nice try." Aether said, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside Venti. "Diluc specifically called me in as reinforcement."

"Oh c'mon, I'm clearly fi-ihh...hIH-" The teal glow in Venti's hair flared brighter as his eyes slipped shut. Jean and Diluc hurriedly stepped back away from the bed-

Aether didn't quite get the memo in time.

"Hh'NGkT-chiew!!" Venti doubled over with a stifled sneeze, his wings appearing and unfolding- smacking Aether in the face and knocking him off the bed. The Traveler remained on the floor for a moment, stunned. After a second, he pushed himself up, catching the moment Venti's wings drooped down with exhaustion- and a bit of guilt.

"...Sorry, Traveler." He muttered, retracting his wings with a visible grimace, his body shuddering. Aether frowned, re-taking his position of sitting on the bed- albeit in a spot he was less likely to get smacked by a wing.

"It's fine." Aether said, "Wouldn't it be easier if you just left your wings out, though?"

"Uhh..." Venti rubbed at his nose again, tilting his head to the side a little and avoiding eye contact. Off to the side, Jean and Diluc let out near identical sighs.

"We've been trying to tell him that for the past two hours." Jean said, "He hasn't listened."

Venti fully looked away from them, muttering something about the possibilities of maids walking in at any time. Diluc opened his mouth, clearly about to say something about how he'd sent all the Dawn Winery staff home for the day-

There was a loud crash from the kitchen, startling everyone, followed by a curse that was surprisingly loud enough to reach up to the second floor.

"...I gave Kaeya the job of making tea." Aether said, "How could you possibly mess up at making tea?"

Diluc glanced upwards as though he was praying for a miracle- though he likely wasn't actually praying, considering his god was sitting sick directly in front of him. He turned and marched out of the room, Jean hurriedly moving to follow him- briefly glancing back and silently asking with her expression if Aether could handle Venti on his own. The Traveler gave her a nod in return, and she quickly followed Diluc down the stairs.

Venti stared at Aether.

Aether stared at Venti.

Slowly, as though Aether wasn't staring directly at him, Venti got off of the bed, and on somewhat shaky legs, started making his way towards the window.

Aether patiently waited until Venti was right in front of the window before he launched off of the bed, quickly grabbing onto Venti's shoulders, pulling him back away from the window.

"Aw, c'mon!" Venti whined as Aether started gently pushing him back towards the bed. "Just a tiny trip to Ol-hH-.... Old MondstahH-"

Venti's hands started moving up to his face-

Aether spun Venti around so that he was facing him, grabbing hold of one of Venti's wrist with one hand, and placing his other hand against the back of Venti's head, gently bringing Venti closer to him. Venti squirmed, shaking his head and trying to choke back hitching breaths.

"Hey, it's okay." Aether said, "Trust me."

Even if Venti wanted to protest to that, he didn't really get much choice in the matter.

"Hihh-hH'ISsH-iew!! Hh...hEH'EtSHchiew!!" Venti had no choice but to sneeze into Aether's shoulder, his wings unfurling, one of them smacking into the wall of the room. Aether winced a little at that, figuring it was definitely bruised at least. Venti's wings twitched, and then he was surging forwards with three more sneezes. "Heh- hEH'Tt-shiew! Hh'EtSHiew!! Hh- hihH- hH'ITsHhiew!!"

Aether barely held back a shiver at the sensation of anemo energy that now filled his veins, smirking a little as Venti pulled back, clear surprise on his face.

"...Um." Venti blinked slowly, seemingly processing, and Aether used the opportunity to guide him back to the bed, carefully maneuvering around Venti's wings.

"There we go." Aether said once Venti was sitting down, "You don't have to go to Old Mondstadt anymore, right?"

"....I... guess not?" Venti said, just the slightest bit dazed. A thought seemed to cross his mind, clearing some of the haze from his eyes. "Ah- but, you'll get sick if I keep-"

"Oh, please." Aether scoffed, "I don't get sick."

Venti stared at him with something in between disbelief and being completely and utterly unimpressed.

"No, seriously, I've never been sick in my life." Aether continued, "Never."

Venti opened his mouth, ready to question him-

Another crash, much louder than before, rang out from the kitchen, followed by three different panicked shouts, along with what Aether was certain was the sound of Diluc summoning his claymore. Aether threw his hands up in frustration.

"It is not that hard to make tea! They've literally all done it before!" He said, making his way to the door. He paused in the doorframe, turned around, and pointed at Venti.

"Stay there. I'll be back in a second." He said, and then vanished down the hall. Venti stared unblinkingly at the door for a solid minute, and then sighed, laying down on his side, his wing folding overtop of him like a blanket. If he was going to have to stay here, he might as well get comfortable...

He must've fallen asleep at some point, cause when he next opened his eyes, there was a cup of tea on the nightstand beside him, and Aether was sitting there, looking slightly singed.

"...The art of making tea is more complicated than you'd think." He said, and Venti made a mental note to himself to later ask what in Teyvat had happened in that kitchen.

[sabraeal]

at home with the glass half empty, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Sunlight already spills through the blinds when Gojo’s ringtone rattles across his bedside table, phone millimeters away from a precipitous— and most assuredly, screen-shattering— drop. That is, before Nanami slaps a hand out, snatching its death from the jaws of fate. “This better be good.”

“Nanami-kun.” Gojo-senpai’s never breathless— not since that time he went up against Fushiguro— but he doesn’t bother to croon and that’s warning enough. “As long as you’re flexible on the definition of ‘good,’ I think we can both walk away happy on this one.”

He scrapes a hand over his face, swallowing a groan. “Might I remind you, this is my day off.”

“I’m afraid the cursed spirits didn’t get the memo.” Gojo-senpai laughs. Not that fake one he does to play at being normal, fooling no one but his students, but the other kind— the harsher one that scrapes up from his throat when he’s winning. Coupled with the crack in the background, like a felled tree— no, telephone pole, Nanami realizes— threatening to fall, he can take a guess at what his senpai has gotten up to in the twelve hours since he’s last seen him. “No rest for the wicked and all that.”

There’s no effort in sitting up in bed, in pinching his nose and letting the air rush through his teeth, but that doesn’t change the fact that Nanami doesn’t want to do any of it. “Are you fighting it right now?”

“Well, I asked if it’d give me a moment to make a call” — there’s another crash, metallic this time, and he can only hope it’s a mailbox or vending machine and not some car— “but it didn’t seem amenable.”

Nanami stifles a sigh, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress, the chill of the floor seeping up through his heels. “Where are you?”

“Close. Just down the street really.” No time for coffee then, not even to fortify him against whatever bullshit Gojo-senpai is choosing to play close to his chest. “I’ll send you my location. I’ve got another guy meeting us there. Now, gotta go! I think this next bit might take two hands.”

“But—” The call cuts out with a swift click, the duration flashing across the screen —1:20— before it goes dark, leaving him with only thin strips of sunlight leaving tiger stripes across his covers.

He should have known better, really. Nearly a year and a half back in this world, and it’s the same as it had been when he was in school: last minute, frantic, no information, no questions. His phone rumbles in his hand— Gojo’s email, the only contents a set of geo coordinates. Two blocks away, as promised. A relief, since the last time senpai informed him a hunt was ‘just down the street’, it was on the other side of Shibuya.

A man his age shouldn’t creak getting out of bed, but after yesterday’s hard landing— two flights down onto a fire escape that would have held his weight in high school, but as an adult, decided to squeal and groan and unceremoniously give out over the dumpster below— everything from his shoulders down is shot. If he’d known he wouldn’t have his requisite forty-eight hour recovery period, he would have let Ieiri-sensei look at him. Now he’ll have to settle for only fixing the problems a hot shower can solve.

Halfway through his trudge to the bathroom, memory niggles at him, and his frown furrows deeper into the sharp planes of his face. “’Another guy?’”

*

“H-hold up there, Kento-san.” Takuma’s all wide eyes beneath the edge of his mask, hands held up like he has any chance of holding another grown man’s weight. Trust Gojo-senpai to mention arranging backup and have it be some child, barely graduated and still smelling of spring. “Are you sure you can handle getting up to your place all by yourself? I mean, I could always—”

“It has an elevator.” A dubious eye inspects where his hand presses to his side, bright red staining pale blue. “I can make it across the lobby. This is hardly the worst injury I’ve ever gotten, Takuma-kun.”

At least the child isn’t still wearing his school uniform. Unlike some actual grown men Nanami has the displeasure of associating with. “Shouldn’t you have Ieiri-sensei take a look? Gojo-sen— er, Gojo-san said that you had a bit of a spill yesterday too.”

Funny, he hadn’t seemed too concerned with it at the time. Perhaps he had been too busy yucking it up to pass on his condolences. “I have a perfectly serviceable set of bandages in my apartment. Ieiri-sensei has more than enough on her plate, she doesn’t need to be dealing with a little scrape like this.”

“Scrape?” Takuma squints into his wince. “That thing looks like it’ll need stitches at least.”

Good thing he’d taught himself to do them back in first year. One could only wonder what they were teaching the children now if even a cut like this had them scrambling to see someone with the reverse curse technique. “I’ll handle it. Now, make sure you have someone look at that head of yours. Concussions may not present obvious symptoms at first, but they can pose quite serious problems if untreated.”

“Are you kidding me?” the kid huffs as Nanami turns toward the doors, arms thrown up in the air. “You’re bleeding out over there, but I get a tap on the head, and you think I should see a doctor?”

“You’re a promising sorcerer, Takuma-kun.” An understatement; barely a few months out of school and he’d managed to acquit himself well in a fight that had taxed even Nanami’s reserves. Not as much of an accomplishment during work hours, he’ll admit, but if he’d been considering overtime, then the spirit was no slouch. “It would be a pity for you to be taken out of the fight by a simple mistake.”

Air hisses through the boy’s teeth, and in the reflective glass of the door, Nanami sees him shake his head. “You’re really something else, Kento-san.”

“Trust me,” he croaks, hooking the handle with his free hand. “I know.”

*

The classic location to stitch up wounds is the bathroom, perched on the edge of the tub while the easily bleached white porcelain accepts the brunt of the bleeding. But trading down from a stockbroker to a sorcerer’s salary had necessitated the removal of a few everyday luxuries of his last apartment, one of them being the soaking tub. So between balancing his sewing kit on the sink crushed between shower and toilet, and a flat and clean countertop, it’s the kitchen that wins out as his makeshift emergency ward.

A mistake, since even as he strings the sutures from flesh to ragged flesh, the muscles of his abdomen clenching from the sting, he sees it— that wrinkled scrap of white visible no matter what angle he approaches his morning coffee. It mocks him from its place on the counter; his scarlet letter, a badge of shame, the physical proof of his wavering resolve; an accusation and a condemnation all at once.

Sayo, the characters still read, not a single stroke of it or the number beneath the slightest bit smudged. How could it be, when it hadn’t managed to stay in the bin long enough for him to finish his jambon-beurre? He winces, not from the sensation of string sliding through skin, but his own lack of discipline. How many excuses had he found to walk past it that night? Just a glass of water this time. Then a perusal of condiments, wondering if his dinner might need any, only to decide— three times!— that no improvements were possible on such perfection. Followed by a foray for the proper side dish for a sandwich of that caliber.

He cannot recall the exact instance that he plucked it from its resting place, only that one moment it was canted on its paper bag, destined for the municipal dump, and the next it was cradled in his hand. Foolish for him to set it up like that, as if it were an idol on a shrine; his countertop a poor excuse for an altar. Even more foolish still to have rescued it at all.

It’s a crutch, he knows; proof that there’s another world out there, one he could be part of if he so chose. A place he could possibly escape to, so long as he turned a blind eye to the grotesques that slithered around every corner, ignoring every monstrous curse that clung to a smiling stranger. A simple task to put his back to the single evil that he could change and mindlessly participate in worsening the rest.

There’s no point in keeping it. He tried that once; staying away, being normal. Exchanging endless existential dread for the everyday concerns of status and reputation and making ends meet. Focusing his attention on the money he could make rather than the curses he could dispatch. Sorcerers rarely made it to retirement, and Nanami wanted to to have the chance at a life, at a family, at something that might pass for love. To travel, to see more of the world than the darkest places in Japan, tearing evil out by the root. To see forty, and the crows feet it might bring.

He’d had so many plans that day he’d left, so many hopes. And all he had done in those four years was make rich men richer.

One day, when he’s been run through and wrung out, missing limbs or eyes and no longer of use as a sorcerer at all, he might go back there. Might take that chance for a normal life. But— he hisses, skin pulling tight as he knots the gut— it won’t be any time soon.

And yet. Yet.

*

It’s not about the girl, he decides as the bell chimes above his head. It’s about the fly-head; about how in twelve months, she’d had one nearly as large as the last. How it’s nearly been five months now— no, six— and she might have another just as big. It’s not common for curses to act like that, to keep clinging even once they’re exorcised. For someone to keep attracting them, even once cleansed.

There’s something going on, is all. A reason for fly-head after fly-head to keep chittering in her ear, nibbling the shine off her smile. And if he can fix it, well—

Then he can stop wondering about it. One day off is a fair price for his peace of mind, even if his side twinges with every sway of the metro. Even standing here, lost among the tables and chairs, takes a kind of stamina, though with the way one of the cashiers looks at him— a quick once over from the broguing on his wingtips to the sleek shape of his hairline— he’s wondering if that particular anguish is less physical and more…social.

There’s no rush at the moment; just as he planned. It’d been tempting to come as soon as it opened, to disappear into the rush of salarymen looking for morning coffees and warm breakfast sandwiches, but the thought of surviving those mindless drones and their jostling elbows makes him suppress a shudder, even now. And in any case, it would be easier to assess the progress of any curse without a line of hungry customers between him and the baker. Or at least it would, if she were manning the counter. Which she isn’t today, it seems.

Ridiculous. This little side trip ended up futile as he knew it would be. He came all the way here— even crossed through Shibuya— only to be fouled up by a concept so simple as shift work. Typical.

The other cashier at the counter glances up, catching their co-worker’s inattention. It’s strange to see a diligent employee from this angle; the way her brows furrow and her cheeks puff, exasperation in every ounce of her sigh. In the way her mouth rounds, ready to call out, when—

When she lets her gaze slip from them to the object of their attention. The one standing at the back of the shop. Namely, him.

Ah, yes. This was definitely a mistake.

Her eyes widen, and she digs an elbow into her co-worker’s side, earning herself a startled glance. There’s some sort of miming— something around her neck, and then a hand shot up high in the air, and the other girl nods, scurrying to the back. A curious occurrence, but not one he has any reason to bother himself with.

At least, not until the baker emerges from the kitchen, sans beret this time, head swiveling like one of her displays.

“It’s you!” Clouds must part somewhere beyond the bakery windows; there is no other reason for the girl’s face to brighten so much between one breath in the next. A soft clap brings her hands together, every pore of her far more pleased than he can account for. “Just give me one minute, I’ll…”

She edges around the counter, back to him as she bends over a case, the white line of her shoulders bared to him— and there it is, that same damn curse, small and larval, one of its tendrils curled around the curve of her neck. Obnoxious, that’s what it is. Tenacious. He might respect it, if it was anything but a mindless manifestation of the world’s misery and malaise.

As it is, he can only think of the movements to exorcise it; the precise methods he might use to keep another of its kind from gaining traction again—

“Here.” A white bag hangs in front of him, her smile peeking around the edge of it. “Your casse-croute. On the house.”

“I…” The paper settles into his hands, awkwardly cradled between his palms. It’s a jambon-beurre, he wants to say, or, it’s pronounced casse-croûte, but he can’t manage it over the ringing in his ears, an alarm set off from far away. “I haven’t even ordered anything…”

“I told you, didn’t I?” She rocks on her toes, just once, her smile stretched wide. “I keep one ready,  hoping you’ll drop by.”

That’s not quite the way she put it before, he’s sure, but with Gojo’s finger pressed to a temple, he couldn’t say why. “Oh. Thank you.”

“I don’t know what it is you do with your hands or whatever, but” —she rotates her shoulders, one after the other, a fine display of physical fitness— “I can’t complain with the results. My neck feels wonderful after you’re done. A sandwich is the least I can do.”

There’s far, far less she could be doing— that most people do, whether they mean to or not— but that’s not what he says. No, instead he catches that little tail of her curse lashing from the corner of his eye, and asks, “And how are you doing now?”

That gets a blink out of her, a recoil that drives her one step back. A much safer distance, in his opinion. “Excuse me?

“You’re all right, aren’t you?” He’s too large a man to follow her forward or even bend down in inquiry; he knows all too well how intimidating all hundred and eighty-four of his centimeters will be to a girl her size. He’d gotten more than his fair share of kicks aimed at his shins-- courtesy of his much more…vertically challenged senpai--before he’d learned that fact for good. “Feeling well? Sleeping well? Nothing—?”

The bell jingles behind him, and Nanami steps aside as a customer elbows past, eyes reserved solely for the chalkboard hung on the brickwork.

“I’m doing fine,” she murmurs, absent, attention drawn to where the customer stops just short of the till, shooting out his order rapid-fire as her employee keyed it into the cash register. With a shake, she turns back to him. “I supposed I can’t really complain. I mean, except for this little twinge—”

Her fingers brush over the joint between neck and shoulder— right where that little bastard curls his tendril tighter, siphoning off a sip of her pain— and then skitter away, knocked askew by the next customer through the door. At least this one mutters an apology before they skirt past, bobbing a bow as their companion comes around the other side, asking, “Have you tried the sandwiches here? I’ve heard they’re to die for.”

“Ah, sorry.” The baker wrings her hands as another glut of customers traipse through the doors, louder this time, debating their orders only a few steps away. “I guess the lunch rush is starting early today. If you don’t mind, I could just—”

“Don’t worry.” He raises a hand to ward off her apologies, shaking his head. “I’ve taken too much of your time already.”

“No, I—”

“Thank you again for the sandwich.” He holds up the bag, offering her a faint smile. It’s the least he can do, when she’s already been so kind. “I can just—”

“Wait!” Fingers brush over his sleeve, dimpling 100% cotton but flinching away before they can meet the more solid barrier of his flesh. “Ah, I just thought…after the rush, I can have someone watch the till. And maybe” — she glances up at him, eyes far too wide, too hopeful to be aimed at him— “I could take you to dinner? As a thank you, I mean.”

He blinks. “It’s lunch.”

“Oh!” Her hand claps to her cheek, the pink blooming there all the more obvious for it. “Right, of course. How silly of me. But maybe I could, um…”

Both their eyes drop to the bag clutched in his hand, still hanging between them. “You already gave me mine,” he reminds her, gently.

“Right, of course I did. But I mean…” She grimaces, gaze darting to the windows. “Coffee? Not here. But, um, elsewhere?”

You’ve got to watch out for women, Nanami-kun. Even now he remembers how Gojo-senpai’s glasses glinted under the summer sun, the slant of his grin hiding an edge while Geto-senpai shook his head. They’re always trying to get you to a secondary location.

What for? Nanami had asked, only fifteen and already suspicious of the advice his senpai doled out with the same enthusiasm creepy old men on street corners did candy.

One long, pale finger pressed to his lips. I’ll tell you when you’re older.

Ridiculous to think of it now, when this baker is only wanting to thank him. When his only reason for accepting is to understand how to rid her of that stupid fly-head once and for all.

It chitters on her shoulder, bug eyes cocking, curious. As if it could sense even a fraction of his malevolent intention. As if it were just becoming cognizant enough to realize he might be an enemy.

“I suppose…” The words ring out in too high a register, and he clears his throat. “Coffee would be nice.”

*

“I’m sorry to make you wait.” The baker is flushed when she hurries out to meet him, tossing a warning glare through the glass doors at the two cashiers waving them off. “I never thought it would last that long!”

Without the red beret and chef’s coat, she might well be a stranger, the sort he might pass on the station platform without even a second glance. Perhaps he has before, eyes only drawn for a moment by the fluttering of her hair— so different now that she’s released it from the care of its holder— before he let them slip away. “It was no trouble at all.”

“It was an hour and a half,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Honestly, you’d think if the rush started early, it’d have the decency to end early. But at least we don’t have far to go— the café’s just around the corner.”

“So close?” He’s not sure about the wisdom of eating at the competition, but the question doesn’t make her skip a step, even though she takes two to three for every one of his, no matter how he tries to slow his pace. “That seems like a…conflict of interest.”

“Oh, no, not at all. They have a metro stop right on the other side of this street, so they get customers from that station, and we get ours from the one right outside, so it’s just like…ships passing in the night, or whatever. But I come here sometimes when I get tired of the coffee we make.”

He blinks down at her, tracing the haphazard line of her part. For as much care as she’s taken to straighten her clothes, it seems letting her hair down had been a last minute decision, a few strands falling astray. “You get tired of your coffee?”

“Not really,” she admits, slanting a smile up at him. “But it’s good to get away sometimes. Put a little distance between me and my work, if you know what I mean.”

Nanami lets his mouth hook at a corner. “I think I do.”

Her breath catches, right before her eyes slip away, catching on a chalk sign board. “Ah, um, here it is. Do you mind sitting outside? It’s nice today.”

It is— warm enough that when he slings his jacket over the back of his chair, the breeze is still pleasant. Summer hasn’t quite arrived, but its perfume unfurls over the city, enticing its denizens to linger, to let the sun wash over them for just a few minutes longer each day.

He lets his eyes shutter, just for a moment, wind running its fingers through his hair. “This is quite nice.”

“Isn’t it?” The baker— ah, Sayo, he supposes, at least with her out of uniform— slides into the seat across from him, propping her chin up with a hand. “Our sandwiches are better, that’s for sure, but I wish we had the square footage for an outdoor space like this. I’d need another full employee to bus those tables, but— ah, just ignore me! I didn’t bring you here to complain about business stuff.”

“It’s quite alright.” Better, actually, since it gives him the excuse to segue into, “You were saying your neck was getting tight again?”

“Well, yeah, it’s getting that way lately, right up around— ah, no wait!” The hand she’d lifted to her neck falls onto her cheek instead, covering an embarrassed giggle. “I’m taking you out to thank you! Not to fish for, er, well…”

“It hadn’t crossed my mind,” he assures her, letting his mouth curve into a softer shape. “But I’m happy to know that I’ve been able to help, at least a little.”

“More than little!” she insists with a laugh. “I don’t know what it is you do, but I even sleep better after. Better than any massage I’ve ever gotten!”

“Glad to hear it.” If only glares could exorcise curses, the fly-head on her shoulder would already be withered, just black energy flaking off in the breeze. But instead it just wriggles its eye stalks at him, undaunted. “But it is getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Oh, well, maybe just a twinge here and there.” Even as she waves him off, her hand lifts, working at that joint where the fly-head sits, eating his fill. “You know, the regular amount of stress.”

“Really.” Nanami leans over the table, attentive, the fly-head quivering under his stare. “Or would you say you have more than the usual amount of stress? More…complex problems?”

“What?” Her mouth hooks, rueful. “You mean aside from all the regular problems of running a bakery?”

“Oh.” He blinks, settling back. That’s right; she owns a business. Not in itself enough to spawn these little pests, but possibly a contributing factor. “Of course, that must be difficult. You seem to be doing so well, I hadn’t even considered…”

“Very well,” she informs him with no little pride. “But you know how it is. There’s always a machine that’s breaking or a dough that doesn’t rise right, or a batch that comes out wrong. The nature of the beast, or whatever.” She shrugs, unruffled. “I’m just lucky that it was doing so well when I took over. Keeping an already profitable business in the black is a heck of a lot easier than trying to drag one out of the red. Or worse, starting one from scratch!”

His brows raise, appraising her. “It wasn’t your business to start? So you bought it off the former—?”

“Oh, no no no.” She waves a hand, laughing. “No way, I could have never afforded something like that. It used to be my parents’— my mother’s really. But she died while I was in uni, so I picked up a few shifts around the place to help my dad out. But then he got sick a few years back, and…”

She strives for casual when she shrugs, but he can see the jagged edges in it, the places where a little fly-headed bastard could really stick its proboscis in and cause trouble. “My younger brother’s at university now, trying to be some sort of engineer. With Mom gone and Dad pretty much retired, someone has to make the money to get him through the rest of his degree. And that’s not even talking about Dad’s treatment…”

“That’s a lot for someone your age.” And would certainly explain how these curses keep glutting themselves on her the second he turns his back.

“Oh!” Her laugh is softer this time, accompanied by a delicate flush across her cheeks. “I’m not…I’m not that young.”

Nanami cocks his head, mouth flirting with a frown. “You’re younger than me, clearly.”

“Maybe. I’m twenty-seven.” She sighs over her coffee, chin in hand. “You know, my grandmother likes to remind me she was married at my age. With three kids! I’m lucky to keep a plant alive.”

He doesn’t realize his mouth is open until he closes it to swallow his, “Ah…”

“What?” Her head tilts, playful. “Can’t believe it? I know, everyone says I have a babyface.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, you do have a very youthful face.” He wouldn’t have placed her above twenty-two, and even then, it would have been a stretch— but that’s not why he clears his throat, his own face suddenly hot. “It’s just…I’m twenty-five.”

“Oh!” It’s her turn for her eyes to go wide, for her own jaw to slacken in disbelief. “You’re a baby!”

A scowl slips out of him before he thinks to suppress it. “Only two years younger.”

“You’re almost my brother’s age.” A corner of her mouth twitches; she ducks her chin to hide it. A futile exercise when he can already see the way her shoulders shiver. “Practically in the cradle.”

“I think,” he says, testing out each teasing step of his tone as if it might give out beneath him. “You’d be hard pressed to find one that would fit me.”

Her gaze cuts across the straight line of his shoulders. “That’s for sure.”

They both take a sip of their coffee— regular for him, two creams, no sugar, and hers some a latte of some sort, the pattern in the cup long since gone. He’d been too distracted to even look at what it was. Strange; it was the sort of detail he liked to note in the coffee shops he visited. A good artist usually denoted a high quality café, and if there was one thing his former life had shown him, it was that every bit of luxury was well-worth the price you paid for it.

“It’s funny.” She’s quieter now, more thoughtful as she speaks. Slower, even, as if she’s savoring the taste. Or perhaps the moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about this sort of stuff. You know, my mom, my dad. Daisuke’s tuition. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ve really talked to anyone since my mom died. Not about real stuff.”

He hums, sipping at his drink. The bitterness floods his mouth; an apt flavor for when he says, “It’s hard to talk about grief with those that haven’t experienced it.”

Sayo glances up at him. “Have you?”

It’s impossible not to remember Haibara and his quick laugh, the boyish face that never missed a chance to smirk or smile. Boyish— ha, of course. He’d never had the chance to be anything but. Right at the cusp of manhood, plucked from the precipice before he could fall over it. Hardly the only friend he'd lost during those years, just...the first. The hardest.

“Yes.” He clears his throat, blinking away the sting in his eyes. “You could say that.”

She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating her cup. “Does it ever get easier, do you think? Carrying it around like this?”

“I think it only gets different.” Easier to forget about in the moment, at least, but perhaps that’s because Haibara was a only friend, not family, and certainly not...something more complicated. Just someone he knew for a few brief years in his life. “But it’s easier when you talk to people who have suffered in the same way. Harder to find, but they are here, if you look.”

Her head tilts, her mouth matching its angle. “Like you.”

Ah, that was foolish of him. Here he is trying to close the door on this world, and he's gone and practically held it open for her to slip through. “I don’t think that’s….”

His tongue trips over itself, tangling as his gaze darts somewhere, anywhere but her eyes and finds— the fly-head. Significantly smaller now, chittering angrily.

“I suppose,” he sighs, wearily. “If you need too.”

“Then we should exchange contacts, shouldn’t we?” She plucks her phone from her purse, giving it a cheeky little wave. It’d be charming, if he didn’t know what a terrible idea this would be. “If we’re going to talk, that is.”

“Of course.” He slides his own out of his pocket, passing it over hers until it beeps. Hamasaki, it reads, Sayo.

“Oh, Nanami!”

A shivers shoots up the length of his spine before fizzling out to his fingers. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, I mean, that’s your name, Kento-san. Kento Nanami-san,” she says, mouth hidden behind her hand. “I just thought it was funny because I’m, well, Sayo.”

He could hardly forget it, the way that paper had haunted him the past few months. “I know.”

“Oh, right, you would have already…” Her cheeks flare a brighter red. “I just thought it was interesting, since the characters of your name are seven and sea, and mine is…”

He blinks, the meaning suddenly resolving in the single character. “Sand.”

“Right.” Her mouth splits wide, into a smile that takes the breath right from his lungs. “We go together, don’t we?”

“I…” It’s terrible how nice that sounds. A coincidence meant for a better man than him. “I should really go.”

“Oh, right! I’m sure my employees will be wondering where I’ve gone off to.” She shakes her head. “Well, anyway, thank you for talking to me, Kento-san. It was…nice.”

It was. Nice. Normal. That’s half the problem. She begins to stand, and before he can stop himself, Nanami blurts out, “Wait. One more thing, if you don’t mind.”

She blinks at him, wide eyed. Too hopeful, once again. “Sure.”

His hand sweeps over her shoulder; a solid, unbroken line. The simplest spell in his repertoire, the first he ever learned. The knit of her sweater tickles the pads of his fingers-- too close, he realizes, sloppy-- and he can't tell whether it's that or the worm's collapse that causes the static to rush through them, both numb and too sensitive all at once. He draws back, arm dropping to his side, and Hamasaki-san—

She’s flushed, breath rattling out of her with noticeable effort.

“There was something on your sweater.” It’s not quite a lie, but still. “Have a good afternoon.”

“R-right,” she murmurs, just barely audible as he strides past. But it’s him that stutters to a stop when she calls out to him on the street, bouncing on her toes as she promises, “Don't forget! I’ll be keeping a sandwich in the case for you.”

[daeryn]

a kiss beneath the mistletoe

hiiii @bulle-blackhole!! here’s your gift for the @onepiece-blorboexchange! i wanted to get this out for you before or on christmas, but things have been crazy for me this month and things obviously didn’t go as planned, so please excuse the lateness lol.

i couldn’t help but combine two of your requested scenarios since i thought they’d fit so nicely together. i hope you enjoy!!

prompt: first kiss under the mistletoe with smoker + softly touching your cheek with his hand as you look at each other softly.

word count: 1.3k

contents: gn!reader, fluff, “humor” as a result of my sleep deprived brain, christmas party/ball, unnecessarily detailed descriptions of muscles, some brief descriptions of anxiety, can be read as either canon universe or modern au

You tugged insistently at the collar of your formal attire, feeling slightly suffocated by both the fabric and the atmosphere around you. You had yet to enter the main room, simply standing off to the side, and still the small niggling fear inside you lingered. 

What was there to be afraid of? Oh, only making a fool out of yourself in front of your long-time crush and the entirety of the organization he works for, no biggie. 

When Smoker invited you to this Christmas party, you agreed before your brain could catch up to your mouth. With the way he said it– all low and personal like it was just for you– it made you jump at the chance. But now, all you wanted to do was go home. 

You watched in awe as Smoker’s fellow officers twirl about the dance floor in a suspiciously rehearsed waltz that you clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about. Honestly though, how would soldiers in the navy have the time to learn dances like that? It was clearly a waste of time and resources. 

Mustering your courage, you stepped further towards the end of the hallway and glanced into the room to get a closer look at the dancers– the women in their glimmering gowns and the men in their sharp suits. With each downbeat of the music, you felt your eyes flitting to a new location, searching among the crowd for the man who was able to get you to come in the first place. 

He spotted you first. 

He called your name as he approached you, but you barely registered it because of course he wouldn’t even wear a shirt to a formal ball. 

His bare chest was, like always, exposed and put on full display on center stage, framed by the curtains of his naval jacket. You couldn’t help but glance at his defined abdominals, admiring the view. You wondered just how much training earned him such rippling muscles. Seriously, those things could replace any household cheese grater. 

“I’m glad you came,” he said, breaking you out of your reverie. “You look…” He trailed off, gesturing at your outfit as he sought for the right words. A faint blush was overtaking his face. It looked foreign on him.  

You ran a hand through your hair as you looked down at your feet. “I didn’t really have anything that was on par with the dress code, but…”

He cleared his throat. “You look amazing.” He adjusted his cigar, fiddling it between his lips. “‘M not very good with this whole thing.” 

“What?” You teased. “Words? Speaking?” 

Smoker rolled his eyes at you. “Compliments. It’s easy with a crew of soldiers. Just tell ‘em they suck or they don’t suck too bad.”

You stifled a laugh at his frankly abysmal show of praise. 

“But with you, I never know what to say. What you want to hear.”

You reached up to place your hand on his shoulder, something you wouldn’t have even thought to do any other time. He initially flinched at your touch, tensing in a way only someone hardened from battle can do, but as soon as it happened, it was done; his shoulders relaxed and accepted the sensation. 

“Anything you have to say, I would be happy to hear, Smoker.”

He smiled, a soft, subtle thing that was just barely an uptick of his lips. If you didn’t know the man so well, you might not have caught it. His hand reached to the back of his neck in an awkward show of embarrassment. “And I you,” he responded in a reverent whisper, eyes glowing from the candle-lit chandeliers of the ballroom. 

You couldn’t help but think back to the very first time you met Smoker, when he had first been stationed in your hometown. He was gruff and rude in his brief interactions with both his subordinates and the locals, but there was something caring and kind within him that you wanted to find, to excavate and keep all to yourself. 

And in that moment, as the music crescendoed in the background and his calloused hand caressed your cheek, you felt as though you had achieved that. 

From behind you, lazy footsteps clicked against the marble floor until you felt a rather large back collide with your own. It jolted you forward towards Smoker, just narrowly missing his cigar from burning the skin on your face. He caught you in his arms, glaring at the figure behind you. 

“Oh~” Admiral Kizaru drawled as he turned around to see the two of you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He glanced up above your heads before smirking. “Have fun you two~”

You took a moment to readjust yourself and your outfit. “How do you deal with him? He’s so…”

“Infuriating?”

You huffed. “Yes.”

Smoker breathed out something between a chuckle and a sigh. “Sadly, you get used to it. Believe it or not, they get worse.”

You stewed in your thoughts, unconsciously mumbling your words of distaste for the laidback admiral aloud as Smoker followed Kizaru’s previous gaze up above his head. His eyes widened. “Oh,” he whispered. 

“What?” you asked. 

His face was red. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought steam was puffing out of his ears. (It was just the smoke pluming out from his lips. The lips you would actively avoid looking at or thinking about in just a few short moments.) He wordlessly pointed up and as you followed it up, up, up, you felt a cross between hope and dread lodge itself deep in your throat. Mistletoe.

“Oh indeed,” you said. 

He let silence settle between you for a while before he cleared his throat. “Did you want anything to drink? I can go get some champagne or something–”

Of course. The attraction between you two was obvious to anyone with working eyes and ears, yet every time there was an opportunity, you would both shy away from it, casting aside any feelings that had bubbled to the surface, allowing them to settle like flat soda. This game of emotional cat and mouse had been going on for months and frankly, you were sick of it. 

You grabbed onto his arm before he could walk away. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Well, do you want me to get you something to eat instead?”

“No, I want you to kiss me, damnit!”

You were tempted to slap your hand over your mouth, but you refused to. You meant what you said. It wasn’t a mistake. 

“You do?” Smoker asked, unsure yet hopeful. 

“Yes. Plus,” you pointed up at the mistletoe “it’s the rules.” 

He shook his head, laughing softly. “Of course. The mistletoe holds the highest jurisdiction.” His hands made their way to the back of your head, cradling it like you were something precious, rare, and valuable. Though to him, those were all objective truths. 

You took the cigar from his lips with one hand while the other rested atop his forearm, drawing him in closer. “And you are a man of the law.”

“I must uphold justice,” his breath ghosted across your lips, just mere inches away. 

“Please do.”

The violins swelled as his lips finally met your own. Each and every note the dancers out in the ballroom waltzed to sounded fuzzy and unfocused as your senses were overloaded with the feeling of Smoker’s lips– rough, unpracticed, and slightly chapped– against your own and the lingering taste of his cigar on his tongue as you eagerly accepted it into your mouth. 

When you reluctantly pulled away from each other, he touched his forehead to yours as he stroked his thumb across your jaw tenderly. 

“I lied,” you admitted. “I am very thirsty. I would love some champagne.”

He groaned as you let out a melodic giggle. 

You received a light flick to the forehead before he wandered off to get you that drink. You chased after him with a smile on your face and a laughter-filled apology on your lips. 

[omniblades-and-stars]

Aumellio/Korak 37 because I am desperate to learn about the vibe between these two

I am repenting for my recent crimes by bringing you this which may be the only piece of anything I've ever written that actually counts as domestic fluff I think.

Aumellio made Korak laugh and brought him out of his shell a little bit. I hope that shows here.

From this ask meme here.

Favorite Song

A folksy tune floated into kitchen from the open bathroom door. It was followed shortly by Aumellio belting the lyrics as though he were onstage giving a world-class performance before an audience of adoring fans, and as though he could hold a tune in a bucket. Aumellio's one adoring fan smiled and adjusted his headlamp before examining the pipes underneath the kitchen sink to find out why there was water pooled on the floor when he woke up that morning.

Korak tapped his feet together as he fiddled with this fastening andthat fitting. He had turned his translator off, as he frequently did when Aumellio didn't realize he had an audience in a different room who was listening to him make a fool of himself, because Korak enjoyed hearing his turian partner's mother tongue in these little moments. It was so different from his own, but comforting in a way. Besides, he already knew all of the words to the song because it was Aumellio's favorite.

Korak heard the sound of the shower turning off as he tapped the u-bend with his pipe wrench, only for it to come clean out of the fastener. After wiping flecks of water from his eyes, he sighed and activated his translator again so he could understand if Aumellio started talking.

The connecting pipe was cut to short, so when there was a but too much water blasting into it all at once, it popped slightly out of the connection, allowing water to spray out of it.

He should have known better than to run the dishwasher and the washing machine at the same time. The runoff all dumped into the outgoingpipes for the sink, which was not up to code, thank you very much.

But such was life when you lived by simple means. Still, this apartment was better than the last one. At least there weren't bugs or holes in the wall from shotgun slugs. And it was far and away better than any place he'd lived on Omega, for the simple fact that it was not Omega.

A box in an alley was an improvement over that.

"You know, it'll get stuck like that if you don't stop making that face," Aumellio teased at just about the time he gently nudged Korak's leg with his two-toed foot.

Korak lifted his head with a smile, "'Fraid this is how I always look."

"Like you're planning to go back in time to kick the ass of whatever poor sod it was who worked on the plumbing here last?" Aumellio teased. His feet soon disappeared from view, and Korak heard a series of cabinets being opened while his boyfriend looked for some food. "Kor, I seem to remember that we agreed you were going to call the property management people and have them come fix it."

"And wait all day to be able to use our kitchen water again?" Korak asked, incensed. He felt around blindly in his canvas tool bag, pulling out a spare piece of PVC pipe he could graft to the pre-existing one. "Besides, I'll d-"

"Do it right. I know. But if they find out we were messing with theguts of their apartment, we might not get our deposit back."

Korak laughed, a deep rumbling sound, "If you were seeing what I am down here, you'd know that they wouldn't notice even if I just slapped it back together with tape." A ridiculous notion, a man had to take pride in his work. And whoever had done this seemed entirely devoid of it. Korak scooched out from under the sink just enough to catch Aumellio leaning against the kitchen table, watching him while eating from an overfilled bowl of cereal. "Do me a favor and get the heat gun from the chest in the closet?"

Aumellio took a big bite of the colorful cereal, a mischievous glint gathered in his eyes that matched the forest green shade of his family tattoos. After taking his dearest sweet time to savor it, he finally answered, "Oh, I would love to, but you forgot the secret turian sleeper agent activation phrase." Aumellio tilted his spoon back and forth like a metronome as though enough time had passed for him to grow impatient.

Korak heaved a great, dramatic sigh, "Mel, do me a favor and get the heat gun from the tool chest in the closet? Please?"

"Ah hah! You do have manners!" Aumellio exclaimed and set his bowl aside on the table. He stretched his arms high above his head, yawning greatly as he did so. "I needed to finish getting ready for work anyways," he said sleepily. "I'll return shortly with your heat gun. Don't get into trouble while I'm gone."

"Only so much trouble I can cause with my head stuck under a sink." Korak shook his head before lining the spare bit of pipe up next to the old one and marking where he needed to cut it. "If you don't hurry, your cereal's going to go soggy!" he hollered playfully from within his miniature little cavern.

"Maybe I like it like that!" came Mel's response from somewhere in the back of the apartment. Korak knew that for a lie. No one liked soggy cereal.

While he waited, Korak cut the pipe down to size. It was an easy enough thing to do with the right tool, which he had. He probably could have gotten the heat gun for himself, he realized about the time he heard Aumellio humming in the hall closet. Eh, worth waiting for the turian to take his sweet time finding it, even though his tools were very well organized. Of course, Aumellio hardly knew a wrench from a hammer, but a heat gun wasn't exactly one of the universe's grand mysteries.

"Your knight in shining business casual returns from his noble quest," Aumellio crowed and crouched to hand the sort-of gun-shaped tool to Korak. He clapped his hands on his knees, "Welp, I'm off to work. Try not to be too imposing at the hardware store ... I assume you’ll be going and I'll return home to a fully functioning kitchen with a lifetime guarantee on it."

"I keep telling you, my face just looks like this. I didn't scare that kid on purpose." Aumellio began to rise before Korak tugged on his hand. "I think you're forgetting something, Mel."

"Oh right, where are my manners?" Aumellio smiled and leaned down awkwardly to plant a kiss on Korak's lips. The headlamp bumped into the hard plates making up his forehead with a muted clink.

Korak chuckled again with a shake of his head. "Not that I'm complaining, but I really meant your breakfast," he said and tilted his head toward the table where Aumellio's bowl sat cold and abandoned.

Aumellio huffed a laugh and managed to pull himself back up to standing with help from the counter tops. "I'll eat and run!"

Before Korak could advise against Aumellio trying to eat a bowl of cereal while commuting to work, the turian was off to the races and out of the door.

Korak was quite convinced he would get a pleading text message in just a few moments, begging him to please bring a clean shirt down to the office.

Ah well. Korak shrugged, in the meantime he might as well finish fixing the sink well enough that they could at least run water through it. He hummed a tune and tapped his toes together while he worked.

It was his favorite song, too, after all.

[gnabnahc317cb97]

Drunk Confessions Part 6

Felix x Female reader

Word count: 1.4K

Synopsis: Felix breaks the golden rule when drunk. Stay away from your phone.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! strong language/cursing, drinking/getting drunk. That's it coming back a little tame. If I did happen to miss something let me know and I'll add it asap!

When you woke up you did what you did every morning. Out of habit, the first thing you did was check your phone. This morning when you checked you had 5 missed texts, one missed call, and a voice memo, all from your best friend, Felix. You read through the texts that got progressively harder to read the drunker he’d gotten into the night. It made you laugh. You were glad he’d been out having a good time with the guys. He didn’t get to do that often with how hard they all worked. Last night they had decided to go out drinking and ended up staying out and clubbing all night.  

The voice memo was clearly from when they’d already gotten home because the first thing you could hear was all the rest of the guys goofing off in the background playing video games. 

“y/n... hey... uhhh... GOD will you guys shut up I’m trying to talk in here! Uh y/n! You’re asleep already. I bet you look like an angel you always look like an angel when you’re sleeping.” 

Sure you thought to yourself, face down in a pillow, drooling like an angel. 

“You’re so beautiful and funny and sweet oh my gosh you’re so sweet and you cook good food for me and the guys and your hair smells like coconuts and the beach and it reminds me of home and I remember the first time I laid eyes on you at work and...” Just then you heard Chan’s voice come over the speaker. 

“Felix what are you doing bro?” 

“I’m sending y/n a voice memo. Chan says hi, anyway, I can’t tell you that you make my heart feel funny when I think about you...” 

“Uhhh Felix I don’t think you want to...” Felix gave Chan a stupid look. 

“Chan it’s not polite to interrupt.” Chan laughed. 

“You’re right mate, continue.” Chan walked back out and Felix tried to pull himself together a bit, unsuccessfully. 

“Look y/n... I love you. I am in love with you. I’m so completely and utterly over the moon in love with you. From the moment I met you. It was love at first sight for me, I didn’t even know your name but you were glowing and laughing and I felt my heart jump for the first time and it has every time I’ve seen you since. I hope one day I can tell you, that I can kiss you, marry you. I see all that with you I just don’t want to ruin what we have. We’re so close and you’re my best friend and I couldn’t bare losing you and honestly I’m afraid of what your answer would be. I know you care for me, love me even, but I just don’t know if you’re in love with me. God I’m rambling at this point, you’d think I was a drunken fool... well I am.” Just then you could hear Chan walk in again. 

“Seriously mate I don’t think you want to send that...” 

“I’m not Chan I’m gonna dele-” The message cut off and you could only imagine the absolute chaos that ensued after Felix accidentally hit send. He looked away from the phone for 2 seconds and unintentionally let up off the mic button which then sent the voice memo. Straight to you. Your heart was ready to burst. He was in love with you?! That had to have been the sweetest confession you’d ever heard. You were glad Felix’s silly drunk self sent you the voice memo before he realized what he was doing. You were getting ready to dial Felix’s number but before you could his contact photo popped up showing he was calling you. You answered immediately. 

“Y/n?! Hey...” 

“Hiya Lixie! You're up awfully early considering...” Your smile was in your voice and Felix couldn’t help but smile too until he remembered why he was calling. 

“Uh yea... y/n... I sent a voice memo last night do me a favor... just delete it. Don’t listen to it just... please just delete it.” You could hear the worry in his voice. 

“Felix? I... I already heard it.” The wind was knocked from him, you could hear it over the phone as he let out a big breath. 

“Y-you already listened to it?!” 

 “Well yeah Lixie you know the first thing I do is...” Click. Did he just? Hang up on you? You looked at the phone and saw your home screen. You sighed and called him back. No answer. You called again. No answer. You called again. Straight to voicemail. So dramatic. You called Chan and a grumbly hungover voice answered. 

“Mhello?” 

“Chan it’s y/n. Is Felix home?” Chan wasn’t sure. 

“Hold on. LIX!!!” You could hear him shout back. 

“WHAT??!” Chan breathed deeply into the phone. 

“Myea he’s here.”  

“Good I’m on my way, keep him there and do NOT tell him I’m coming.” 

“Y/n I...”  

“Chan.” He groaned out tired. 

“Finnnneee!” You smiled. 

“Thanks Channie! See you soon!” 

“Mhmm see you soon.” You quickly washed up and got dressed before heading over to the guys’ place. You knocked on the door and were met by the same groggy Chan you’d spoken to on the phone. 

“Is Felix still here? You didn’t tell him did you?” Chan rubbed his eyes and shook his head no. 

“No I didn’t, he’s in the living room with Hyunjin and Changbin watching something on tv.” Chan moved out of the way letting you in and yawning as he shut the door behind you. You came around the corner into the living room and Felix saw you. You’d have thought he’d seen a ghost how big his eyes got. 

“Lix-” He got up and dashed out of the living room heading to his own room, shutting and locking the door. The guys looked at you and you rolled your eyes exasperated. 

“What was that all about?” Hyunjin finally asked. 

“Lix sent me a voice memo last night...” Chan started laughing. 

“Oh god I forgot.” You glared at Chan. 

“Don’t laugh, he’s embarrassed and won’t talk to me because of it.” Chan stopped laughing and wiped his eyes.  

“It’ll be okay as soon as you tell him.” You stood there with your arms crossed. 

“What do you mean? Tell him what?” 

“Well, you love him too, don’t you?” You stood there speechless for a second. 

“What did you think it wasn’t obvious? You both are so ridiculous. If he hadn’t accidentally sent that to you who knows how long this would have gone on.” You stood there a moment and then just shook your head. You made your way towards Felix’s room to try and get him to talk to you. You tapped at the door. 

“Lixie? Please talk to me.” 

“No Felix here!” He called through the door. Then a thought hit you. What if he wasn’t just embarrassed? Was he avoiding you because he regretted sending it? You don’t think your heart could take it if it wasn’t true. If he didn’t really love you. 

“Are you ashamed that you sent it? Did you... did you not mean it?” He could hear the pain and worry in your voice. 

“If you didn’t mean it it’s... it’s okay. I’ll just... I’ll just go.” You should have thought this plan through better before dashing over. Felix quickly opened his door. 

“Wait!” You stopped and turned back. 

“I’m not ashamed and I did mean it.” You let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Felix I came over here to tell you that I love you too.” Felix stood there stunned. 

“What?” 

“I love you too Lixie. I always have. How could I not fall in love with the most beautiful and kindest man I've ever met?” Tears were welling up in your eyes and Felix grabbed your hand.  

“I meant every word I said on that voice memo last night. I’m madly in love with you y/n...” Before he could go on you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. One of his hands came up and cupped your cheek and he kissed you back sweetly. 

“Told you.” You and Felix jumped at Chan’s voice. 

“Jesus! Announce yourself when you enter a room.” You scolded Chan as Felix blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I entered the hallway to go to the bathroom I didn’t realize that warranted an announcement. My apologies.” Chan said sarcastically before heading into the bathroom.

"Behold bathroom I have arrived! Fear me!" He shut the door as he continued announcing himself boisterously leaving you and Felix alone again. You both stood there awkwardly for a second before Felix cleared his throat. 

“Uh, why don’t we go and have some breakfast and talk a bit.” The smile spread across your face again. 

“I’d like that Lixie, I’d like that a lot.” 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[stargazeraldroth]

Okay okay okay, so- Hear me out. I’ve got an AU (…AM? Alternate Multiverse?) idea that could go the way or horror, humor, or both, spawned by your mention of the evil team in your Pokémon AU. I’m never gonna do anything with this, but it made me laugh and I wanted to share it and see where you’d go with it (your AUs/AMs are fun sue me!!!).

So. Consider this, if you will- Dream and Blue decide to try and be a lil silly with Ink for whatever reason. Payback for a prank? April Fool’s? The reason isn’t important, what’s important is that they decide “go big or go home” and enlist a few AUs to pretend to worship Ink as a god in some weird, Ink-oriented cult. Why a cult? Who knows, maybe they got drunk and ran with it. Maybe they were feeling chaotic. The idea is that Ink will go to these AUs, find the “fake cult,” and try to figure out what the hell happened, this isn’t in the script??? Before Dream and Blue eventually reveal their Dastardly Prank (and they intend to reveal it, they abide by the confuse don’t abuse rule!) and have a good laugh together!

Except there’s one teeny tiny… Itsy bitsy little problem with that.

Somehow, someway, the AUs didn’t get the memo that the cult was meant to be pretend, and now there’s a real, actual Ink Cult spanning the goddamn multiverse that’s rapidly growing. There are rituals and prayers going around, they’ve heard whispers about sacrifices (of what, they aren’t sure- art supplies???), someone started a goddamn holiday, it’s all a mess, really.

Depending on how you take it, you could go a humorous route and have Blue and Dream frantically trying to hide this from Ink while fixing the entire mess, or at least mitigating it somewhat (stop trying to sacrifice actual people- they don’t care that it’s willing, use cupcakes or paints or something!!!), to varying degrees of success… Or you could go a more horror oriented route of Dream and Blue frantically trying to keep their friend out of the grasp of his rapidly growing worshippers, all while wondering how everything went so damn wrong and stars, they’re so sorry, Ink-

Anyways yeah, Accidental Cult AU/AM go brrr.

Ah, splendid. I just call all of my alternate multiverses AUs, it helps me with consistency and everyone knows what it means. I don't know which idea I like better, the funnier one or the more horror-oriented one. So! I'm going to address both of them separately!

Also I'm glad to hear you find my AUs fun to read about, making AUs is one of my biggest hobbies rn-

~Funny Version~

For once, Ink's not the one who caused the problem. This is already going wonderfully, my baby's innocent

The idea of the cults trying to sacrifice actual people to Ink is hilarious. I can picture Dream and Blue trying to discourage it by saying that Ink doesn't condone this kind of behavior, which is true, but with varying degrees of effectiveness. Ink will, however, accept food and art supplies any day of the week

They have to enlist CORE's help in tracking the cults' activities, much to CORE's displeasure. How did they let the situation get so out of hand? They're sorry, CORE! They didn't think this would happen!

I can't tell what would be funnier: Ink being painfully oblivious of their involvement (how did the AUs even find out about him? He keeps himself well-hidden, he thinks!) or Ink being entirely aware, but pretending to be dumb. He wants to see if they can handle it on their own, first

Just the image of Dream and Blue trying to keep the cults hidden from Ink is golden. Especially if they eventually cave and tell Ink about it, expecting him to freak out... only for him to either wonder how they did it or him laugh and tell them he already knew about them

Imagine the cults have like, shrines dedicated to Ink. Little Ink statues

What if, in this version, the cults aren't even all that dangerous? Their rituals are more along the lines of "We must pray to the Protector and give him offerings, so that he may ward the Destroyer off from our world!" Just silly things like that

~Horror Version~

Dream and Blue's efforts to stop the cults from using live sacrifices are less successful here

You mentioned they're trying to keep Ink away from the cults, so let's take a look at what might happen if they were to get him

They wouldn't do anything bad to him, of course, but it's a very... odd situation. Ink's being surrounded by these cloaked figures showering him with praises and worship. And when he tries to leave, they won't let him, so he kinda... has to resort to extremes

Maybe the cults start treating Dream and Blue as Ink's messengers or heralds, of sorts. Not just to "deliver his words", but to also relay the cults' prayers and wishes

Alternatively, maybe some cults start going even more rogue and scheme ways to capture Ink and use him to change things about their world. Surely, if anyone would have the power to change things, it would be their lord? They didn't get the memo that Ink doesn't create or control AUs, only protects them (like half of the fandom)

Maybe a cult tries to force Ink out of "hiding" and answering their summons by capturing Dream or Blue and preparing to sacrifice them

I wonder how they might react to PJ and Gradient...? Being the children of Ink, surely they'd be respected. But being Error's children, too... maybe some groups don't take too kindly to their existences

[mercuryonparklane]

hello i love tayliz so much do u have a link to all of liz's unreleased songs? I love her music so much :D

Sorry, it's taken so long to respond.

There are some clips that she has posted on her Instagram of newer songs, but I am not sure if you mean those or the songs that were released in the year or so after she left Taylor's band.

This youtube channel posted the songs that were released in 2012/13 (they weren't necessarily "official" releases because she never put out an actual album or ep with these songs):

Here are some clips from songs that I think were possibly going to be on an ep or album that never happened:

"It's Been Real"

I’ll miss your face

But you’re in my heart

Forever and always

Yeah, baby, it’s been real

"What You Do To Me"

I’m losing all my cool

Not getting any sleep

And if you want to know

What’s gotten into me

It’s what you do to me

It’s what you do to me

"Cheap Champagne"

I don’t want to know who they’re talking about

Don’t say you’re sorry

Don’t call tomorrow

Don’t you know that’s why they made

Cigarettes and cheap champagne

Don’t get it twisted

Not gonna miss you

All intents to forget you, babe

Cigarettes and cheap champagne

All intents to forget you, babe

Cigarettes and cheap champagne

There was a clip of a song called "Good About Her" that has seemingly been taken down, but here is a comparison I made between the lyrics in the clip and some of Taylor's lyrics:

http://staging.spiritmusicgroup.com/Songs?Artist=Liz%20Huett

"Good About Her"

“Soft-spoken, sweet thing

She moves like a dream

I bet you love the respect

That you get

Don’t you?”

Feels a little “Begin Again” to me.

“She keeps it so cool

She plays by the rules”

“cardigan” voice memo:

“I knew you laughing like a damn fool,

Breaking every damn rule..”

“What a boring masterpiece”

“All Too Well”:

“But maybe this thing was a masterpiece

‘Til you tore it all up”

“Missing me,

Aren’t you?”

“betty”:

“I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything

But I know I miss you”

“Oh, it’s almost laughable

You say you’re compatible

But she’s nothing like me

What’s so good about her?

What’s so good about her, baby?

What’s good about her?

Good about her?”

Maybe another reference to “Begin Again”??

“That time when we parked

Outside of the bar

Couldn’t wait ‘til we got home

All our clothes came off

Does she make you swear?...”

“cardigan”:

“To kiss in cars and downtown bars

Was all we needed”

“betty”:

“Standing in your cardigan

Kissin’ in my car again

Stopped at a streetlight

You know I miss you”

There was a duet on a song call "The One" she did with one of the members from A Rocket To The Moon (she also did background vocals on a ARTTM song) that he has since deleted from his soundcloud and I have no idea if she co-wrote it, but here are the lyrics, which I posted here before he took it down:

“The One”

Put on a love song

Turn it up real loud

Listen on the drive home

Take the long way through town

As you start to cry and you wonder why

You ever put it on

That love song

Pour a little whiskey

Take a seat at the bar

Wonder if you miss me

I wonder where you are

I play that memory in my mind

Of when you were mine

And pour a little whiskey

I can tell the world I still love you

And give it one more try

If you want to

But maybe me and you

Are trying to turn the moon into the sun

And I’m not the one

Like a bad dream

It happens every night

When the one thing

You want isn’t right

Every little thing I try to do

Always comes back to me and you

Like a bad dream

I can tell the world I still love you

And give it one more try

If you want to

But maybe me and you

Are trying to turn the moon into the sun

And I’m not the one

The one that you were meant to find

I’m not the one

We have tried a thousand times

But it always comes undone

So, I can tell the world that I love you

Give this one more try

If you want to

But maybe me and you

Are trying to turn the moon into the sun

And I’m not the one

I’m not the one

She co-wrote the following songs that were given to other artists:

"Dammit"

Here's a post I made about this song:

"Not Going Anywhere"

No matter the actual nature of Tayliz's relationship (friends or more) this is the one song I am 100% convinced she wrote about Taylor.

"Put My Heart Down"

There are some interesting lyric parallels to Taylor's music in this one to songs like The Story Of Us, Better Man (particularly the "put my heart down and walk away just like it was a loaded gun" line in comparison to "push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun" - keep in mind that she did sing background vocals on Taylor's Version of Better Man and very likely sang on the demo - it sounds a lot like her - and may not have realized Taylor would ever release the song, since she wrote Put My Heart Down after Red was released), I Almost Do, etc.:

I never pictured us ever fighting this much Thought we were figured out but it's so messy now Your words they cut so deep and I think that you should leave I'll have to live without what I can't live without It already hurts So before it gets worst just

Put my heart down, put my heart down Put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away Just like it was A loaded gun Put my heart down, put my heart down Put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away This kind of love Is dangerous

So pack up all your things and just leave some air to breathe A million toxic tears falling like rain 'round here This is the final hour The end of our story tonight And I don't wanna fight

So put my heart down, put my heart down Put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away Just like it was A loaded gun Put my heart down, put my heart down Put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away This kind of love Is dangerous

Oh, it already hurts So before it gets worse I know it ain't easy But if you really loved me

Just put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away, yeah

Just put my heart down, put my heart down Put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away Just like it was A loaded gun Put my heart down, put my heart down Put my heart down, put my heart down And walk away This kind of love Is dangerous

"Don't Let It Hurt You"

"Say The Word"

That's all I can remember at the moment. There are a couple other songs she co-wrote for artists that never really went anywhere, but I can't find them right now.

I can try to make a post with some of the song clips she shared on Instagram later, but for now this is a fairly comprehensive list of songs that are out there that are not on her current profiles as "official" releases.

[natty1730]

Chapter 2: The Girl From Ipanema

“Margarita.”From the bottom of the steps, her father called her, "Yes, father?" Y/n answered as she hurriedly descended the wide stairway. "I have found you a fantastic piano teacher, but she won't have a permanent opening until next week," I said. The young woman looked at her father while smiling politely. "Yes, sir." "I also want to talk to you about a tiny issue. You have several piercings, as I have seen. If you remove them all during piano lessons, I will let you have your piercings. Additionally, you must dye your blue hair back to its natural color. Is that clear? He questioned with a stern look in his eyes. "Good. Your meal is currently being served in the dining room. Since your textbooks will be coming today, please prepare for tomorrow's first day of class. Her father walked out of the room and into his study. God, he's so stern. She pondered as she walked to the kitchen.

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

Why do I feel so anxious? It's only for school. It won't harm me, I promise. As she walked to her new school, Daisy had a thought. Except for the fact that her father has become even more strict, the previous several days have blended into one. As Daisy came across a small alleyway, she thought, "Shit, I need to calm down." Lau, against the wall, put out of her Sashal a pack of cigarettes, and she smoked it a few times and then put it on the floor and up it out. She got out of the small alleyway and started to walk to school. Daisy entered the building and went directly to the principal's office to collect her timetable. When she opened the door, she saw a young man seated at the desk. "Privet, ya novyy student," Daisy commented as she regarded the boy. Do you speak Russian fluently, too? I must say that your father was correct when he claimed you were intelligent. He started with a heavy accent before standing up and giving her a paper. You can find all the information you require in this paper. Your lunch code, timetable, and other factors. You should have no trouble finding your classes because the school isn't that big. As he made an effort to exit, he said. After accepting the memo, Daisy hurriedly muttered her thanks. Okay, let's see here... the first class is history and doesn't start until 20 minutes, so I have time to chill in the bathroom and walk around the school.' Daisy thought as she walked into the nearest restroom. When she entered the bathroom, there were girls near the sink and putting on lipstick. One of the girls had pink hair, and the other was blonde and Brunette. The girls give Daisy a side-eye. They thought ‘they had never seen her before, she was probably new, she was different than everyone, this new girl had caramel skin, and everyone in this school had pale skin color and blue hair. “You must be new here,” the girl with Pink hair said. “Yes, I’m new here. I just moved here,” Daisy said, “Well, we welcome you, I’m Diana, and this is Catalina and Sasha.” Daisy shakes Diana’s hand. “I’ m Margarita, but you guys can call me Daisy.” She said, “Nice to meet you, Daisy, "What class do you have first?" Diana asked. "I have a history with Mr. Volkov." Diana gasped and led her out of the bathroom. "No way I have him too! Though he hates like everyone in the class, except for Dee." She said, walking with Daisy to go to history presumably.

Who's Dee?" Daisy asked Diana, noticing how Diana blushed a bit at the name. "He's just this cool guy. But don't let him fool you. He is a complete dick. He's hot but a dick." The bell chimed as they stood in front of the class. "Hey, just so you know, I can't sit with you because someone else is already sitting with me. The only open seat is with Dee, so could you try to get in a good word for me?" Diana asked hopefully with a little sparkle in her eyes. "Yeah, don't worry, I will," Daisy said. She cleared his throat to get his attention, and the teacher looked up from his grading assignments. "Kto ty?" The teacher asked with suspicion in his voice. "Margarita novyy student, ya takzhe mogu govorit' po-angliyski." Daisy responded, quite proud of her Russian. "Ah, yes, very well. Take a seat next to Dee. Dee, please raise your hand!" The teacher yelled out. Daisy turned and saw the boy with fluffy hair and eyeliner raise his hand. "Thanks." She told the teacher as she walked over to the desk and sat. Dee was completely ignoring her, just staring out the window. She cleared her throat to get his attention, which did not work. "Vy govorite po-angliyski?" Daisy asked Dee. He glanced at her and rolled his eyes before returning to the window. "Yes, I do. Fluent." He spoke before ignoring her once again. "Well, my name is Daisy, and I suppose yours is Dee?” Dee thought in his mind that she was that bad-looker. She wasn’t ugly as he thought. She was different from anyone he’s met in school. She wore this hippie grunge aesthetic clothing and had piercings, and her hair was fairy-like, with her natural hair color mixed with aqua blue color. She had tan skin like his uncle Ches but was more of a Carmel color. Her eyes were the most beautiful things that he ever saw. He could get lost in the dark pools of her eyes, so he returned from his headspace and replied to her, " Yeah." Before Daisy could utter anything else, the teacher began to talk and prepare for today's lecture. “Shit, I forgot to bring a pencil,” Daisy mumbled. A pencil slid on the desk in front of her. "Just use mine. I already know all the material." Dee said, still looking out the window. Daisy was surprised but still thankful nonetheless. "Thanks, Dee," Daisy whispered before she used the pencil to take notes.

“Thanks again for letting me use your pencil ." Daisy tried to hand Dee the pencil, but he refused. "Just use that one for now. I have an extra at home," Dee said before picking his backpack up and walking out of the classroom. "Daisy! Did you talk to him for me ?" Diana asked before picking her bag from the floor and walking to the new girl. "No, sorry, he barely even talked to me. I'll get in a good word. Eventually, I promise." Daisy said, leaving the class with Diana. "Yeah, don't worry about it. He's a pretty cold person.

What class do you have next?" She asked before grabbing the schedule from Daisy's hands. "Oh, dammit, we have different classes. I have chemistry, and you have English. Don't worry; I'll show you where your class is, though!" Diana said in seemingly one breath. The two walked in a comfortable silence, except for Diana waving to certain people she saw walk past her every so often, and some people looked at Daisy, and so guys catcalled her. Diana stopped in front of the class and motioned for Daisy to enter. "We don't have any more classes together, and I'm pretty sure, so I'll see you after school!" Diana waved and left Daisy, walking towards her group of friends.'Ouch. I should have known we wouldn't be friends right away, though.' She thought, walking to her teacher's desk. The teacher looked up at her and smiled. "So you must be Margarita, the new student! The principal told me everything, so there is no need to worry. You can take a seat in the back." She said, motioning towards the empty desk in the back row. This was how the entire day went. Just Daisy was talking with teachers and sitting at new desks. That was until she walked home after school and stopped in that same alleyway for a quick smoke.

You look young to be smoking something like that!" A boy said from behind Daisy, causing her to jump and drop her cigarette. She turned to see a youngish boy with red hair and a black shirt. "Jesus, don't you know, never scare a lady, especially in an alleyway?!" Dash yelled, picking up her cigarette and clutching her rapidly beating heart. "Sorry! My brother and I usually cut through here as a shortcut, but he's doing something important at school, so he sent me home instead." The redhead said, clutching onto his backpack. "My name is Heavy!" He said, watching Daisy take a hit from her cigarette. "Yeah, I'm Daisy. I just moved here." They both stared at each other briefly until Heavy blushed and broke the silence. "Can I walk home with you? I have nothing else to do except wait for Dee." Daisy coughed uncontrollably at the smoke she inhaled when she heard that name. "Dee? As in blonde hair in a ponytail, eyeliner, and piercings?" Heavy smiled even brighter and laughed. "Yes, that's him! You know him?" Daisy threw her cigarette, stomped on it to put it out, and walked out of the alleyway with Heavy. "Yeah, sort of. I sit next to him in history." Heavy oohed as he walked down the sidewalk with Daisy.

"Heavy, can I ask you a question?" She asked, looking at the boy and noting a significant size difference. He looked at her and nodded."So then you're fifteen like Dee, right?" She glanced at Heavy and shook her head. "Oh well, I'm thirteen. Why do you smoke?" Heavy asked, still smiling. "Why do you ask a lot of questions?" "Fair point. While they were walking, they heard footsteps behind them, and it was Dee. “Oh hey, Dee, I was waiting for you at our shortcut when I ran into Daisy.” Dee looks at Heavy with embarrassment and annoyance. “Hi, Dee,” said Daisy with a smile. Dee blushed so hard when she smiled that he turned red like a cherry. Heavy walked next to Dee and whispered, "Your girlfriend, really pretty, Dee.” Dee turned even more red than ever and said, “She is not my girlfriend!!” Daisy and Heavy both laughed . Dee pulled Heavy from his Backpack and dragged him. “Come on Heavy we should go Dad is going to get worried about and Mom is going to be pissed if we’re not at home on time.” Dee let go of Heavy and then started to walk home “Bye it was nice to meet you Daisy. I hope I’ll see you again. Bye” yelled Heavy. “Bye Dee, Bye Heavy it was nice meeting you too.” said Daisy as she waved her hand goodbye. As Daisy walked home, she looked at the scenery of the street and how different it was from Brazil. She missed the smell of the fresh fruit for the fruit cart and the smell of the salty ocean. She missed the hustle and bustle of the streets of the city. Now here in Russia was the sound of silence and the smell of frost and cigarette smoke in the air. When she arrived at the apartment at the doorstep. Her Father opened the door and welcomed her. “So, I made dinner for use would you like some?,""Sure” Daisy said The both set up the table for dinner and her father came back from the kitchen with their food. “So how was school? Did you make any friends?” he said in a happy tone in his voice, obviously Daisy thought he was faking to be kind to her because he was just a responsible to him. Daisy was looking at her dad with a fake cheery tone. “Yay, I made a friend. Her name is Diana and she has Pink hair, well I think she is some sort of popular girl in school.”she chuckled a little bit. “Really, I remember when I was in high school there was a popular kids a school and they were kinda jerks.” he chuckled as well

“Well she’s not like that, like she is popular but not in the mean way.” Daisy. As they talked and ate their food, her father brought up her mom and how she was this free spirit and wild and how her father and mom met each other. “You look so much like your mother.”he said and one tear slipped out of his eye. Daisy tears spill from her eyes too, “I know, I miss your mom too.” Her father said as he hugged her with a warm embrace. “Well look at the time, we should be heading to bed , you have school in the morning. She walked up the stairs to her new bedroom and getting ready for bed. Y/n plopped back onto her bed and started at the ceiling for a while, before plugging her headphones into her phone and shuffling her playlist. Daisy wiped away some of her tears before they fell, and turned onto her side.

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

Hey you guys thank you for supporting me with my fanfic and I just wanted to let you know that most of my titles are going to be base on songs from my playlist and all so I am going to give you images of what most of Daisy’s outfits just in case you guys need a reference . Also if you’re willing to give me ideas for upcoming chapters, but your ideas in the comments section. Thank you

[the-firebird69]

It's all goes too I'm on a roll and I'm getting things done I don't want people to know the image pay attention we have a lot of problems and they're developing cuz he's idiots are coming over if they really fixing them in the long run if we attend to them correctly and I'm putting a list together of things I need and yes all the time and I'd like to have all that stuff and he's talking to the door and his kids and we're going to get going on I'll tell you what though these people have murder on their tongues and lips and mouths and everything for my son and I'm getting in there and he wants me to and we have more neighborhoods going in we have only 10 and we enclose them and we renovated but we have like 40 already they're pretty big twice the size of his neighborhood is pretty big in Florida and we have underground but we need a lot more that's like one 100th of the state no it's like 1,300 it's not really that big so that laughed at this morning and people are angry and he said we have to be intermittent too and can't be all bunched up I said that in the meeting so we are doing that too well it's nice to have some centers and it's not really just all us it's just that we're there more so we're going on it now. A lot of people who are listening and they're saying they need me intact so I can think correctly they don't need cortisol flying through me testosterone not to mention me getting critically injured by some fool who thinks of my brain can shut down and it'll be fine now we need that guy gone and we're going to make him gone right now and then she start piles of massive rocketgen engines that are much bigger than the ones that he had before and they know what he's talking about they're going after him so he had a whole bunch of stuff happened this morning but I'm speaking to an issue and it's about these morlock being crazy, and how we have to take over here in an organized fashion that's real and I'm going to call it that we have to start today doing it for real and we have to put a schedule together now be nice and he says we have to have a general schedule and it will schedule our areas out cuz we'll probably have to have areas like Miami is cut up a little bit and I'm actually seeing this when that happens the neighborhoods compete like Ireland versus China and it was in Boston we were doing that and he's smart okay he knows how it works and that we're not going to be orwellian so it's moving out right now and he wants a meeting set today if we have a schedule already that's great and we'll we'll talk about breaking up the areas as to what areas I'm in as a majority and what areas have been in as majority and I'm going to do that and sending out a memo requesting it everyone do it to Thor and Freya I'm doing that right now

Gu Oya

He's complaining like almost all the time I have to Michael manager I'm on my bicycle getting rained on I have this terrible terrifying Stalin guy yelling at me I've got a lot of pressure and he needs some way to vent it and nobody is letting him vent at all and that seems weird retards and they don't let him have any money and if you still alive it for me right now because I'm in dire need and he realized it it's a health issue it looks like Tommy F has a plan to move me so good and he's a theatrical guy Tommy f and it looks like it wasn't real or something which was stupid but he's also trying to grab my husband to grab me people should make a note of that that last part is very important so he wants to print and Iagree

Hera

Olympus we're printing now

[mastcrmarksman]

Carol and the Captain were a spectacle to him, always had been. Back at the academy, that fact came from him licking the wounds of his divorce and the painful parting between him and Bobbi. By the end of things, they couldn't look each other in face and recognize the other as the one they were married to. The dynamic between Jim and Carol reminded him of Bobbi on their better days; at least, that's what he thought when that relationship's death felt too fresh. He'd see her in everything.

He got over her, that'd be thanks to Leonard and Peter and this group of people he found himself in company of. Clint snorts, ❝ Who says I'm not taking Lenny with me when I go? ❞ It's a fair point, why wouldn't take Leonard out with him. Who said he had to suffer being a ghost alone? This only means that Carol's got two ghosts haunting her ass. ❝ Now that's an idea, just remember you're the one who thought of it. ❞ Too bad he couldn't have that a voice memo next time he messes with Spock. Carol said to do it, even if she meant that as when he's a ghost, would be a nice defense.

Clint hopee that his face displays the appreciation that Carol's speaking his language, using sign. It's preferred. On top, he figures that'd this would be easier getting her to talk since not many is going pay attention to their conversation or try to eavesdrop on it. Considering the fact he wants Carol to be more open about her and their Captain. « Modesty? I don't need it. » There's a smile to his lips, that's mosty a joke, and then the smie grows fonder.

He's always the luckiest man alive when he's maaking a relationship work. « I know I know » Neither of them were subtle about that, and Clint won't do anything to stop of change that but Clint had sat down to probe Carol about her and Jim, and if he could find out about the blonde he mistaked for Carol more. That'd help out too. Jessica scared him.

« You so do » They totally had looked alike in his opinion and it wasn't even the hair think. « You both have this face. » He tries to emulate the ANNOYED WITH HIM face. The brief meetings with Jesica, she had emulated perfectly the faces that Carol had given him all throughout the academy when he had been a doofus or a jerk. Sometimes both.

It's a little weird to him to think that Jim came from Iowa too. That Carol visited his home state often and look at him knowing the both of them. The odds of them all meeting like they have felt small. The two of them were younger than him, that he knows that by the time they were probably old enough; he was an orphand runaway with his brother.

His expression goes to a more soft neutral as he follows alng with Carol expressing where she feels about her unofficial relationship with Jim. Just friends who fooled around. « Thirty six is not old » He starts, bringing up his own age. That reminder that was a little older. « All men are stupid. Younger the more stupid. » He's including himself in this blanket statement, but he's also calling their Captain stupid.

« All fash and bang. Both feeling on top of the world. » This may be his own personal experience or feeling bleeding in, but being Captain of a four hundred some crew would put a lot on top of someone. Clint wouldn't have been able to handle that at twenty five. « Not having a clue about who you are inside. » So Carol maybe right about Jim wanting something else or more that he hasn't sat down to think about that, or ready to sit down and thing about that.

« I know from experience you can not dangle in fool around forever if you already thinking this. » Having the big crash and burnout in his late twenties really has left him some ability to provide insight. He knows what happens when a thought festers, when suddenly things may be different and there isn't certainty anymore. Bobbi and his divorce had a lot more build up.

« Me and my problems? Relationship is good. My shifts are uneventful. I harass L-E-N-N-Y when I can. Life is good. »

❛   i'd rather not get in more trouble than i already am with the captain, thank you.   ❜ she's already been pushing her luck too much. trying to navigate their situation, her feelings & having to perform her duties impeccably is already more than she can bite right now. she's not easily overwhelmed, but emotions always THROW? her off her game.

❛   as flattered as i am to be your second choice, shouldn't that be Leonard ?   ❜ a mere suggestion, given how close the two men are. ❛   otherwise, it seems more your style to try to mess with Commander Spock.   ❜

there's an excessive roll of her eyes, mainly because it is her job to give him a hard time. «  a little modesty goes a long way. but hey, i take your word for it.  » the more they talk, the smoother her hand gestures become. it had been a minute since she got to practice sign language. still, they both know how HAPPY she is for him & Peter. «  i'm pretty sure you can tell he loves you simply by looking at him when he stares at you. not very subtle.  »

there's a goofy grin on her features when the topic reaches her best friend. «  we do not look that alike.  » then again, she should be glad he is comparing them to each other rather than to someone outrageous. «  many years ago, she saved my life during a mission. we became inseparable after that. not sure how sane i'd be without Jess in my life.   » she may love Jim, but Jessica is her soul sister. they just understand each other.

this is so much easier & she runs less of a risk of adding more fuel to the fire that is the gossip surrounding her LOVE LIFE. «  our parents were friends. i spent a lot of summers & holidays in Iowa.   » some of her best memories, really. «  i was . . . until now. at some point, we have to stop fooling around, right ? but maybe that's just me, & Jim wants something else.   » hence why everything is so complicated now.

«  it's so weird when you call me kid.   » her head shakes, but she does smile at him. «  thanks for the chat. now we can talk about YOUR problems, please.   »

[gfmima]

category : 米哈游 原神 work title : obsessive behavior, possessive tendencies

“you called for me, sir?”

dottore looks up from the web of experiment-related notes on top of his desk and finds you standing by the doorway of his office, looking nervous. if he stared at you for a moment longer, he’d point out that you resemble a scared little lamb. it was possibly the very first time he encounters the sight of you so high-strung.

it excited him.

“i did,” he affirms with a devilish grin. without another word, he raises his hand then beckons you inside the room, and to sit on the stool in front of him.

you were first recruited as another lackey for the harbingers to do their bidding. the other harbingers were utterly lost on what it was about you specifically that drew him to you. you hadn’t done anything special to stand out from the rest and yet you somehow became the object of his obsession.

the harbingers were having their annual meeting to discuss important matters such as the latest orders from the tsaritsa when you entered in the middle of their conference to deliver the reports detailing the month’s expenses to the man sitting next to him.

it was nothing out of the ordinary for a subordinate to bring off their duties not a second later. however, the rather mundane act seems to be enough for you to be the apple of his eye. by the next day, you were briefed of your transfer to his division and given the title of his personal assistant.

from then onward, his fixation on you persists. whether it is romantic or not didn’t matter — it was evident he was deeply infatuated with you and that should’ve been a glaring forewarning to any fool who took an interest in you. it didn’t didn’t need to be announced, it was obvious to anyone with working eyes that you were his and his alone.

the many disappearances of fatui underlings and the recent increase of his test subjects weren’t a timely coincidence after all. to his great frustration, there was a pest who didn’t get the memo and managed to pathetically worm his way in your life — something dottore keenly disapproved and detested.

“it’s mandatory for those involved with the fatui to remain a strictly professional relationship,” he informs, eerily polite. it was a blatant lie, but you didn’t need to know that. if it were any other individual sitting across him and below his concentrated gaze, they would’ve shivered at the gesture or started praying to their pathetic archon that he spared their life.

you didn’t.

you merely look back at him unafraid. and perhaps that was one of the reasons why he was drawn to you.

“is it, sir? i’ve read our policies and the mighty tsaritsa never mentions such a rule.”

his jaw clenches. you were a mouthy little minx, aren’t you? he internally sneers, his eyes narrow at you, guess he has to fix that later.

“it’s a new policy.” his tone was firm. it stresses this was the end of the matter. you either take what he says to heart and comply or you face the consequences of your disobedience. “understood?”

“yes, sir,” you gulp and it creates a small smile to emerge on his lips.

“good girl.”

having a harbinger for a lover was an affair you didn’t intend to happen. it was too outlandish. you envisioned yourself to settle down with an honest man and live a modest life in the countryside and yet here you were, happily dating the most affluent, and cunning, harbinger.

whenever your family sent you letters, they consistently ask you about him and if he was treating you right. as usual, they were bewildered to read how different he was from the murmurs in town. pantalone was a sweet, gentle lover — he cares for you like you were his most prized possession. it was made obvious when he spoils you with everything your heart desires.

he didn’t ask for anything, only for you to follow his request of seeking his permission anytime you wish to meet with your friends or relatives, remembering the very early curfew he gave you, and cutting off those he disapproved. although it highlighted his possessiveness and overprotectiveness, bordering on sheer paranoia, you didn’t see anything wrong with it. you were fully understanding of his strange requests since you knew you were both taking a huge risk of having a relationship.

regardless of what others try to say, he had adversaries who were ready to attack him the second he showed any sign of weakness.

hence, you found yourself in a big dilemma when you chose to disregard his rules and went out with your friends, whom he made clear he disliked, without telling him. he told you one of them harbored feelings for you and it left him feeling annoyed to know you were around someone who wanted to pursue you. you were his; majority should know that by now and find another poor soul to pester.

one thing you were frequently told by those around you was how unsettling your lover could be at times and you weren’t able to see what they saw until tonight.

“where were you this afternoon?” pantalone lazily swirls the wine glass in his hand before taking a long, agonizing sip of his drink. you stay seated across him visibly impassive while you feasted on the meal prepared for the evening.

“what do you mean? i was at home the whole day.”

the air went still.

you were naive enough to reckon that everything was going to be all right until you were harshly faced with the reality of your actions when you heard the noise of a chair screeching and footsteps approaching you.

you feel him tuck your hair back. he must’ve been leaning or kneeling down because you suddenly felt his breath against your neck. “i asked you a question, little one. i expect some respect from you to tell me the truth.” his voice wavered on threatening. it was chilling to find the man you normally run to for solace become the reason why you’d come to him for comfort.

“i-i, um… i went out with my friends,” you manage to stutter out and he went quiet again, “i’m sorry that i… that i-i didn’t tell you. i didn’t know it was going to be a big deal!”

he simply scoffs at you and your eyes soon water at what he might say next. you were close to the verge of crying.

“when you agreed to be mine,” pantalone starts, “you made a promise that you trust me and do what i say. i told you not to leave without telling me and what did you do?” he pauses, waiting for you to respond. it was condescending to have him gaze at you like a disappointed parent whose child was in trouble.

“i-i left without telling you,” you sniffle. his demeanor swiftly changes when you started to cry. he removes his hand from your face and pets your head, calming you down.

“i’m sorry, little one…” he murmurs, “i must’ve really scared you there, didn’t i? but you do understand why i was mad at you, right? there are people out there who want to take you away from me and i won’t let that happen… not if i can help it.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

irrelevant ~ corpse husband

word count: 2157

request?: no

description: he tries to push himself when he messes up his voice, so she takes it upon herself to try and get him to take a break

pairing: corpse husband x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

The worst mistake one can make is playing a voice memo from Corpse when they have both headphones in and their music turned up. You’d think I would have learned that by now with how long I had known Corpse, but yet again I was a fool.

I was walking to Corpse’s place when I got the message. Me, being naïve, gladly played the message, only to be met with Corpse screaming in my ears. I was sure I got some strange looks as I frantically yanked my headphones out and nearly threw my phone in shock.

Once I recovered from the heart attack that was caused by the scream, I sent Corpse a text in response.

“wtf was that?!”

“scream”

“i know it was scream. why scream?”

“been working on a song all day. so much screaming”

I cringed to myself. I knew all that screaming wasn’t good on his voice and throat, and I knew he was going to push himself to go ahead with his stream that night.

I let myself into his apartment when I arrived and called, “Hey you! I’m here!”

There was no response. That wasn’t unusual as Corpse often didn’t raise his voice because it hurt his throat too much, but I still had a sneaky suspicion that his silence had to do with the screaming he had been doing all day.

His bedroom was empty, so I that meant he was in his streaming room. I normally wouldn’t just walk in and interrupt his streaming or editing, but I wasn’t about to let Corpse push himself past his limits. I knocked lightly before opening the door. Corpse was sat at his computer, the only light coming from the screen in front of him. He turned in his chair and smiled at me, the screen light silhouetting his frame.

‘hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

I winced. His voice sounded worse than I expected. “Babe...”

He waved away my concern. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You can barley speak. You must be in a lot of pain.”

He went to wave away my comment again, but started to cough and winced. I sighed and walked into the room, extending a hand to him. Reluctantly, he took it and allowed me to pull him out of the room. I led him to his room and basically forced him to lay down. I knew it was useless, but I still went to get him a glass of water to try and help with his throat.

I laid down next to him and ran my hands through his mess of curls. He leaned into my touch, a small, content smile on his face.

“I don’t think you should stream tonight,” I told him. “You should rest your voice.”

He hummed in response, his smile dissolving into a worried frown. “I have to.”

“You don’t have to. You’re allowed to take a break when you need to.”

He shook his head. “I told Rae - ”

“Rae will understand. All your friends will understand.”

Corpse sighed. He had no other argument, but I knew he’d still try. Before he could say anything, though, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to me, resting his head on my chest. He placed on arm over my stomach, instantly relaxing into my embrace. I started running my fingers through his hair again, trying to ease him into a peaceful sleep, or even just a brief few minutes of rest. I knew him enough to know that playing with his hair would get him to fall asleep, especially when he was already tired, and I could tell by his eyes that he was definitely tired.

And of course, I was right. It wasn’t too long until Corpse drifted off to sleep. I kept playing with his dark, curly locks for a while, content to be laid there with him. But soon enough, I knew I would have to get up and go talk to Rae about him not playing with them tonight. I knew I’d likely feel bad when Corpse woke up and realized what I did, but I also knew he wouldn’t do it otherwise. He could be mad at me if he wanted, but I didn’t want him to be in pain.

I managed to wiggle out from under him and gently place him on the bed. I couldn’t help but stand there and look at him for a little while longer. He looked so peaceful, so beautiful.

God, I am so in love with this man.

I smiled to myself before turning and walking back to his streaming room. He had left his Discord open and I could already see he had been messaging Rae. She was asking him if he’d be okay to play with them still, and he was assuring her that he would be there because he had planned a stream of his own for that night. I sat down in his computer chair and put his headphones on before clicking the call button next to Rae’s name.

It didn’t ring for too long before Rae’s cheery voice answered. “Corpse!”

“Not Corpse,” I said.

“(Y/N)! Even better!” I chuckled at her enthusiasm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m calling to let you know that Corpse won’t be playing with you tonight.”

“Oh no,” she said, her voice immediately turning to concern. "Is he okay?”

“His voice isn’t all that good right now. He doesn’t want to admit it, but I know he’s in pain. I practically had to force him to go lie down and rest. He’s still trying to play with you guys tonight, but I wanted to call to ask you to tell him to go rest if he does try to join the game.”

“Oh my God, of course! I kind of had a feeling he wasn’t as up to streaming tonight as he was saying he was. I had a group call with him and Sykkuno earlier and he didn’t sound well at all.”

“Yeah, you know Corpse. All work and no rest.”

“Thanks for looking out for him, (Y/N). I hope you know all of us appreciate him having you when we can’t be there for him.”

I smiled. “You guys don’t have to thank me. I just love him too much to see him hurting. Whatever I can do the help I’ll do it.”

We said our goodbyes and ended the call. Next, I went to Corpse’s Twitter, which he always left open, and decided to tell everyone that he would not be streaming that night so that no one was waiting around for a stream that wouldn’t be happening.

Once I was finished, I shut down his computer and made my way back to his room. Since I had been gone, Corpse had rolled onto his stomach and stretched out to basically take up the whole bed. I giggled as I tried to get into what little space was left without waking him. Unfortunately, my mission did not go as planned as the minute my back hit the bed, Corpse’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hello sleeping beauty,” I said, softly. “How do you feel?”

“Somehow, even more tired than before,” he said. His voice still sounded rough, but it sounded more like his just waking up voice and not like he had hurt it earlier. That was a good sign.

“Maybe you need more sleep then.”

“I need a few months worth of sleep,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What time is it, anyways?”

I checked my phone. “It’s seven.”

Corpse’s eyes widened and he quickly sprung up to a sitting position. “Shit! Rae’s lobby starts at seven!”

I reached a hand out to stop him before he got out of bed. “I was already talking to Rae. I told her you weren’t feeling well, and she understands. I think she already has someone else lined up.”

“You did what?!”

The angry tone in his voice made me flinch. “I...I called Rae?”

“Why did you do that? I told you I had to be in that lobby!”

“Corpse, you were recording a song all day that required you to scream. Your voice is not good, your throat is obviously in pain. Even Rae said you didn’t seem yourself when she was talking to you earlier! Missing one lobby and one stream isn’t going to be the end of the world.”

“Ah fuck, my stream! If I don’t have a lobby - ”

“I took care of that too.”

He looked at me in shock. “You...how...?”

I suddenly felt very guilty for all I had done without talking to him first. “I...I tweeted...”

I trailed off, but Corpse knew where I was going with it. He pulled his phone from his pocket and went onto Twitter to see the tweet I had posted. He groaned and tossed his phone on the bed, running his hands through his hair.

“I was fine to stream, (Y/N)!” he snapped.

The raising of his tone cut deep. He had never raised his voice at me before. It was kind of scary, but at the same time it made me angry. I was just trying to look out for him, and this was how he was reacting?

“You are not fine to stream!” I snapped back. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before I called Rae or before I posted the tweet, but I know how you are, Corpse. I know that you would’ve worked all day on that song, screaming and fucking up your throat, and then you would’ve went and streamed for like two hours and hurt yourself more, and then you’d be out of commission and feeling like shit for days. I’m sorry but I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to push yourself past your limits and run yourself down. I’m sorry that I care so much about you that I wanted to make sure you actually rested for once!”

Tears were welling up in my eyes. I had to look away to stop Corpse from seeing me cry. Part of me wanted to leave and to just let him do whatever he wanted, but at the same time I didn’t want to get up from his bed. I just wanted to sit there and let the emotions pass before I said or did anything else.

The bed dipped next to me and I felt his arms wrap around me. He rested his chin on top of my head and I leaned into his chest instinctively.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you,” he said. “I know you meant well with what you did.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it first,” I responded.

Corpse shook his head. “You shouldn’t be sorry. You’re trying to look out for me. I know if I had joined that lobby then everyone would’ve tried to get me to leave, too. I just...I don’t want everyone to forget about me if I’m not posting content.”

I raised my head to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t respond at first. He looked away, trying not to meet my eye. I cupped his face with both of my hands and forced him to look down at me. “Corpse, you know your fans aren’t going to go away if you take some time away, right? They’re still going to be there for you.”

“But will they? If I’m not giving them constant content, will they not just grow bored of me and look for another creator who can actually meet their needs?”

I wiggled out of his arms to reach for his phone that he had discarded onto the bed. I opened the thread of replies on the tweet I had posted and showed it to him.

“You see these?” I asked as I scrolled through the comments. “All these messages are in support of you taking time off to rest. Everyone here wants you to take care of yourself, not for you to be posting content until you’re burnt out. They care so much about you. They’re not going anywhere, they’ll be here when you’re ready to post again.”

Corpse buried his head in my hair, holding me close to his chest again. I heard him sniffle, so I knew he was crying. I decided not to push it and wrapped my arms around his middle.

“I don’t deserve someone as amazing as you,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of my head.

“I think you deserve the world,” I responded. I lifted my head so I could kiss his nose. “Now, wanna lay down and watch Death Note again?”

He smiled and kissed my lips before responding, “You already know the answer to that.”

[cherrycheridarling]

lockscreen | t.h.

tom holland x famous!reader

warnings: none just fluff

summary: tom goes on jimmy fallon for a game of 'show me your phone'. being the oblivious child he is, tom forgets about his lockscreen.

wc: 1.4k

"Welcome back! We're here again with the star of the Spider-Man series, Tom Holland!" Jimmy's announcement drew cheers from the audience. "Tonight, we are going to be playing a game called 'Show Me Your Phone'."

Jimmy went on to explain the game to the crowd as Tom sat across from him patiently waiting. Jimmy pressed on the button first and ended up showing the world that his last photo was a selfie taken minutes ago in the washroom. That gained a lot of laughs. Then it was Tom's turn.

"I'm terrified. I don't even know what's on my phone." Tom shook his hands before firmly pushing the button. It landed on the iMessage icon. "Oh? My last text message convo?" he began to unlock his phone. Eyes skimming over his lockscreen.

"Yup, and once it's locked in, you can't touch it." Jimmy reminded him of the rules as Tom quickly skimmed through his last conversation.

Tom ran a hand down his face before chuckling, "Oh, geez. Alright, some context, I needed help picking a tie for tonight and my mate, Harrison, is nowhere near helpful."

He placed his phone in front of the camera as the conversation appeared for the audience to read.

Tom: haz what tie? red or blue?

Harrison: youre ugly either way

Tom: you look like dolores umbridge. pick a tie ffs

Harrison: mm my babe umbridge. jokes. i'd say purple

Tom: you're gross and no help at all

Harrison: have fun babe the bed is waiting for you

Tom: don't make me puke before i go on the show

Harrison: puke on me daddy

The crowd bursted out into laughter along with Jimmy as Tom covered his beet red face in embarrassment. "He is going to kill me for showing that." Tom was laughing as he spoke.

"That's hilarious! Okay, my turn." Jimmy ended up sharing a voice memo of him reminding himself to do chores around the house.

Tom wiped his hands on his pants before pushing the large button again. It landed on the lock icon. "What does that mean?"

"You have to share your lockscreen."

Tom's posture visibly stiffened at the information given. He wished he had gotten some warning before coming on the show. A caution sign telling him to erase everything on the iPhone.

His lockscreen was a memory. A keepsake. You. A piece of his heart. A reminder of happiness and the loving moments you shared with one another. It was taken a little over a year ago at Zendaya's house for a get-together with a few close friends.

You were propped up on the kitchen island, a wide smile on your face. Tom standing in between your legs with his back to your chest. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he tilted his head and placed a kiss on your cheek. Jacob Batalon had captured the moment. A heartwarming interaction that you had both done an outstanding job at keeping under wraps.

You had been dating for nearly two years. How you had managed to keep it hidden for such an extended amount of time was a wonder to everyone who knew, including yourselves. It wasn't that you were both set on no one ever finding out, you just never saw the need to. It was your relationship, only meant to be shared between the two of you.

Tom hoped you wouldn't be mad if the world found out, but he enjoyed the privacy and the feeling of having something that was only his. Something he didn't have to share with the globe. Tom debated on his options. Showing the picture and making headlines for the next week or refusing to do so and ruining the game while making everyone suspicious of him.

The former won.

"Okay, um." Tom nervously let out a laugh, "Surprise?"

With shaking hands, he placed his locked phone on the stand and avoided looking into the crowd as reactions varied throughout the studio. Gasps, cheers, 'aww's, even some screams. Both of his hands shielded his expression from the cameras as he allowed the audience to examine the photo.

"Oh, my god! W-what?!" Jimmy stammered, shocked what his eyes saw, "That's Y/N Y/L/N! A-are you two?" his eyes flicked from the phone to Tom.

Tom nodded slowly, "Yeah, yeah. It is and we are. Nearly two years steady." this intel drew more shocked reactions from the habitants of the studio.

"This is amazing! We love Y/N! But wow, how did no one know?!" Jimmy was still in disbelief.

Tom smiled at your name, "I may be loose-lipped with movie spoilers, but this is proof that I can keep secrets."

Jimmy's mouth was agape, "I have so many questions and you are so lucky that we are out of time."

Tom released a breath he didn't know he was holding as Jimmy said goodbye to the cameras and they stopped recording.

As Tom made his way backstage to head to his hotel, his heart began to beat out of his chest as he thought about your reaction.

-

Lounging on his hotel comforter, Tom pulled out his phone once again and clicked on your contact. m'lady. Pressing the FaceTime icon.

Your bright smile lit up the screen, illuminating his mood like the sun on a stormy day.

"Hello, lover. To what do I owe the pleasure of this late night call?" you chuckled while sitting up against the headboard of your bed, Tessa laying beside you.

Tom couldn't suppress his grin at your presence even if it was through a screen, "Hi, darling. I didn't know if you would be awake. Isn't it nearly three in the morning there?"

You nodded and pushed your glasses up on your nose, "Had to run some lines with Tess before filming tomorrow. She's a great actress." you panned the camera over to the sleeping pup.

"Sometimes I think you're only with me for my dog." he joked with a light laugh.

"Shoot. I thought I had you fooled." you teased back, "Why did you call, bum?"

He scratched the back of neck and avoided looking at the screen. That was enough for you to know that something was up.

"What part of your movie did you spoil this time?" you chuckled.

Tom shook his head with a smile, brown curls flopping on his head, "Nothing about my film, love. More or less about us." he mumbled the last bit, but you heard it.

Your shoulders tensed involuntarily, "I'm gonna need more information than that."

"We were playing a game where you have to show certain things on your phone and I had to show my lockscreen and, well, you know what my lockscreen is." his nerves grew with every second that your face stayed expressionless.

"Okay. How did they react?" you stifled a yawn.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed at your response, "Y-you're not mad?"

You chuckled, "Do you want me to be mad?"

"No, no, no." he quickly protested, "I just didn't know if you were ready to tell the world about us and I'm sorry for not informing you before making that big of a step in our relationship."

You smiled at the caring boy in your life. His thoughtfulness overpowering any negative emotions that could've surfaced. You weren't mad at all. Two years was a long time to keep a relationship hidden especially when both of the parties are well known to the public.

"No need to apologize, mi amor. It was about time everyone found out. Long overdue if you ask me. I would've appreciated a heads up, but I'm not mad." you insisted, and it was true.

Tom visibly relaxed at your words, "The audience was shocked and some gushed and screamed. Can't wait to see the headlines and news articles tomorrow."

"I can see it now: 'Spider-Man Actor, Tom Holland and Actress, Y/N Y/L/N's Hidden Love'." you spoke in a mocking voice making your boyfriend laugh.

"Can't forget; 'All the evidence of their relationship that the public overlooked'." he joked in the same tone as you both laughed together joyously.

Your laughter died down while a peaceful smile lingered on your lips, "I'm glad you had fun tonight. I should get some rest. Need to be in hair and makeup at seven."

He nodded understandingly, "Have fun on set, darling. I'll talk to you later. Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, sleep tight, sweet dreams, lover." you gave a little wave before ending the call.