#so like its not a surprise. its not a huge fuckin deal

[shuckinbeanz]

warnings/notes: Tumblr decided to post this incomplete so I had to finagle it lmfao kudos to Google lens for copying the majority of this and saving me some grief. n don worry ur secrets w me nonny! 🥰 N E WAYZ 🥵 NSFW, I'm gonna say y'all are married here, Daddy kink, chubby gn reader, stretchmarks, squirting+overstim, standing full nelson, breeding kink if u squint, reader can get pregnant, Kats is so mean to you ab your insecurities (in a good way i promise) so degradation, dirty talk, teensy bit of thigh worship(partly me indulging myself bc i have thicc ones), some orgasm denial, praise kink with a little bit of humiliation kink if u squint, biting? soft nibbling more like, n mirror sex. Told in his POV kinda bc who doesn't love a King who's head over heels for his s/o--it gets wonky at some point im sorry 😭

I'M FINALLY DOONE 😭😭

~Masterlist~

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream

You were doing it again. Prodding at the dips of your stretch marks morosely. And quite frankly it was pissing him off. He knew that look from ten miles away. He knew what your deep sigh meant, and he'd be damned if you do it again. Having enough of glaring daggers your way because you stubbornly kept your current mindset-one insecurity after the other-he resorted to picking you up, princess style.

"Kats!" you gasp, your rambling about how heavy you were going in one ear and out the other as he carried you straight to the bedroom with one thing on his mind; dealing with your insecurities the best way he knows how, by fucking them out of you.

"I'm a Pro, sweetheart. Carrying ten of ya is an everyday thing for me, so nice try, dumbass." he throws you onto the comforters, making you squeal in surprise.

You huff and squint at him as you sit upright, glaring your cute little glare as he readies the mirror. "What are you doing?" you finally ask, offended he brought you into its reflection to the point of near tears. "I'm huge," you start as he makes the strides towards you, "I'm ugly, I don't wanna see m'smff--" cutting you off by firmly planting his palm under your chin and squishing your pretty cheeks. Your pretty hues go wide, your pupils dilating at his stern look, a flush painting your features.

You were gonna get punished.

"We'll see how long you keep this up. Stop being a fuckin' brat." he gives you a meaningful squeeze before releasing you. "Now strip." he commands, and you shake your head before opening your mouth to speak.

"Strip, or that's another one to the dumpster." he seethes, eyeing what you wore as he settled beside you. You wisely clamp your mouth shut, immediately springing into action, knowing his habit of ripping your favorite clothes to shreds. While the money he makes can fill your closet with new ones, you preferred the ones you've worn down.  "Not so hard, now, is it, sweetheart?" he rasps warmly, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor. "Now, c'mere." he coos, beckoning you over when you've removed the last article of clothing, and you disobediently stay where you are. "Don't make Daddy say it twice, toots." he warns you, making your breath hitch as you squirm in place.

Katsuki is a patient man for his spouse. After several moments you eventually begin to cave, and you inch towards him. He pats his lap, watching you fiddle with your fingers apprehensively. "What did I say?" a growl escapes him, and you begin to stutter, your beautiful face much more lurid in hue; of embarrassment, shame, and arousal.

"Y-Yes, Daddy..." a meek affirmation escapes you as you turn around and hesitantly take your seat, gasping as he all but grabs them plump, pretty hips, and pulls them down onto his lap.

He purrs in satisfaction, his large hands engulfing your plush thighs. "There we go. Atta sweetheart." he praises, groping and massaging them. "I wouldn't've married ya if I didn't like everything you had to offer." he starts. "You know me, sweetheart, yeah?" giving them a particularly firm squeeze. "Yeah?" he repeats firmly when you hesitate, his voice making you nod.

"The juicier, the better." he says, pressing them together. "Press these babies t'gether after a li'l TLC, makes a mighty fine cocksleeve. Nice and slippery, drives me up the wall every damn time, never fuckin' fails." he rasps in your ear, making you squirm. "And here?" he lifts one of his hands to grope your stomach, making you jolt. "Here, I stake my fuckin' claim." "Kats--" "Would prefer t'do it inside, turn you into my pretty li'l cumdump, keep you stuffed full of my kids." he interrupts you, thumbing up your inner thigh, stopping just short of your sex.

He revels in your whimper, in the flush that grew to the tips of your ears and down your neck, creeping towards your shoulders. "Can turn 'em info earmuffs, too." he squeezes your thigh, the hand on your stomach traveling up to fondle your chest.

"These here are just the cherry on top, sweetheart." he says, flicking one of your nipples, making you gasp. He scoots back, holding onto you to keep you in his lap. "See that mirror? I'll have ya yellin' how pretty you are by the end of this, and that's a fuckin' promise. Daddy doesn't go back on his promises." he tells you as he manhandles you into a more comfortable position with ease, paying special attention to groping at your tummy and thighs-the areas you were most insecure about.

He'd have those thoughts long gone before he's done with you, your pretty little head filled only with him.

He takes your hands, first guiding them to your plump pretty rolls. "Remember what I tell ya?" he asks, as he guides your hands lovingly across your body. Incoherent sounds escape you, and he hums encouragingly. "Little louder, toots." he tells you. You're silent for several moments, shyly speaking up.

"...like cinnamon rolls..." your voice comes out small as you lift your gaze to yours and his reflection in the mirror, cheeks painted the prettiest color. "Mmhm, and?" he rasps coaxingly in your ear.

"Y'could...gobble 'em up..." you go redder as his crimson eyes meet yours in the reflection, your own hues darting downward. "Damn right." he chuckles, giving a playful nibble to your neck, eliciting a soft gasp and shudder from you. "Can't convince me that's not what those bastards are fantasizin' when they stare at'cha a little bit too fuckin' long. Really pisses me off." he growls, "I like watchin' 'em bounce, too. They're for my eyes, only, yeah?" he tells you.

It was true. The hungry gazes you'd get from thirsty passerby was far from being a rarity or occasional, not that you didn't like it though. Your guard dog of a husband's protectiveness always did set a fire in your belly.

"And these?" he inquires, his large hands moving to your thighs, guiding them apart-but you stubbornly keep quiet. He bends, chuckling darkly. "Take your time, baby." he tells you, mouthing at your neck, his crimson hues dark and knowing. You try to avert your gaze, but one of his big calloused hands grips your chin, making you look back at the reflection, his other toying with your pulsing sex.

You wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer.

"Earmuffs..." you mumble shyly, trying to remember through the haze. "Th'juicier--th'better--" you gasp, unable to keep from squirming anymore as his finger teases your entrance. "Mhmm, and?" he encourages you, his voice husky in your ear.

"Ahh--oohh, Daddy, m'sorry--" you barely contain your moans, wriggling your hips a little, wanting nothing more than those thick fingers to fill you up.

“Don't be.” he tells you, his voice clear through the pulsing heat, “Don't be, baby.” he soothes. “From the crown of your head, down to your pretty little toes. Every fuckin’ inch, gorgeous.” he tells you, inserting one finger.

“Ya like t’keep spoutin’ nonsense, about perfection, about who's deservin’ of what.” in goes another as he continues-really, he’s too perfect for you-curling his fingers only just a tad, not quite enough to quell the fire.

“This whole damn planet don't deserve you.” he moves his hand, fingers pulling out in a slow drag, curled up against your spongy spots, “You know damn well y'can't convince me otherwise, sweets.” he whispers in your ear. You moan at the sudden onslaught; large calloused fingers pumping in and out of your heat at a dizzying pace, his palm rubbing against your sex deliciously.

You find rhythm with him, bringing your hips up for more, wantonly humping his hand. It's not long before your husband's skillful fingers are coated with your slick, and your teetering on the brink of orgasm.

He knew exactly how to drive you crazy. His voice in your ear, the strong grip he had on your chin. His skillful fingers bringing you up, and up, and up-only to suddenly stop.

You whine and squirm, reaching down to get that high, only for your hands to be swat away, his large palm covering your pulsing heat. "What'd I say, baby?" he pants in your ear, voice husky. He was clearly enjoying this. You could feel his hard cock straining against his sweatpants, pressing up against the meat of your ass.

And if you were going to be honest, you were enjoying this, too.

"Daaaddddyyy~" you whine, high pitched and desperate, closing your legs. "Nuh-uh." he grunts, pulling one of your legs in the hook of his elbow. "What'd I say, toots?" he asks again.

"I'm big, an' ug-ghoooh!~" you try, with a hint of squirmy sass, quickly cut off by his fingers plunging into your needy heat again. "Nope. Wrong answer." he growls.

You keen his name, legs trembling as he ravages your spongy bits, knuckle deep. He slows to a drag just as you're about to reach your high. "Last time, what'd I say...?" he rasps in your ear. You squirm and hump his hand as best you can, face hot and head fogging over, frustrated tears starting to prick your eyes.

Adamantly, you try to shake your head with him holding your chin, squeezing your eyes shut so you wouldn't have to look at yourself in the mirror anymore.

Because he's convinced you, like all other times. You're perfect. At this point, you were only being stubborn, but you refused to admit it easily.

The moment his fingers leave your heat, though; all that crumbles. "Nooo!~" you release a high pitched whine. It crashes and burns, your sweet, sweet release seeming even further away.

" 'm pretty! 'm hot! 'm sexy, I--" your voice cuts off as he eases his thick fingers back in, where you needed them most. "What else, toots?" he asks, voice husky. "Got sexy curves!~ Thick n' warm n' jiggly!~ Oohh, yes, Daddy please, right there!~" you keen as his skillful fingers pick up the pace, scissoring you open. "Keep going." he commands you.

" 'm thighs!~ Stretchmarks, too, they--they look, oh fuck, Daddy, Daddy, 'm coming!~" you squirt all over his palm, shaking your hips against his hand as best you could, riding your high.

You go completely limp against him, panting harshly. Slowly, sensually, you feel that same hand travel around the curve of your ass and up your thigh.

When you feel him reach behind you, between your bodies, and pull down his sweats, you can't help the pleasant shudder that escapes you.

"Daddy, 'm legs're jelly, I can't--" you try weakly, but he shushes you. "There's positions for that, sweetheart." he pants softly in your ear as he manhandles you into position to take his throbbing, red-hot cock.

Your toes curl in delight at the stretch, his cock all but filling you up. He pulls you into a full nelson, "Daaadddyyyyyy!~" you squeal in surprise when he stands, impaling you just right, making your hole gush.

"Didn't tell ya t'stop, did I?" his hisses hotly in your ear. "Nhooh~" you moan. "Touch yourself." he commands, and this time, he doesn't have to tell you twice; you snake your hand in front of you and start stroking. "Wanna hear your pretty voice, c'mon." he grunts, his strong arms keeping you fully secure as he proceeds to use you like a pocket pussy.

"Dad~dy~ I'm!~"

You sing hot praise to yourself in the mirror, getting lost in your own little world as your husband bounces you on his fat cock, encouraged by his lewd praises. This goes on until you're fucked stupid-until he's made you cum at least twice all over the mirror.

Only then would he have mercy, cleaning you up and tucking you in.

The next time you'd wake up, he'd already have your favorites prepared. Really, he's such the perfect husband for you. <3

[basu-shokikita]

Kloktober 2023 Day 18

Inspired by a metal song

Despite being a Metalocalypse fan, I'm not actually a metalhead, so I hope hair metal counts for this prompt.

Today's entry is explicitly Skwistok for a change. Warning for suggestive content too, but nothing beyond that. With this song title, what can you expect anyway 🤣

It takes place during Dethklok's rise to fame, they weren't quite the biggest band in the world yet, but not a bunch of runts in a basement either.

Toki stormed into the room without knocking, without checking if he was busy, essentially without giving a damn about what Skwisgaar was up to generally. He flopped on the bed unceremoniously and started grumbling and kicking his feet against the mattress.

Skwisgaar raised his eyes from his guitar. “Bad nights?”

“It suckeds!” Toki mumbled almost incomprehensibly so. He turned himself to the side and glanced at Skwisgaar pitifully. It was Saturday night and he was back home before 2 am, he was officially a failure of a rockstar. “What ams you doings here?”

“Didn’t feels like goins out.” Skwisgaar shrugged and Toki couldn’t help but admire the confidence with which he said so. Like he wasn’t burdened by his own womanizer reputation. “I think ams getting a little boreds of fuckins da regular womens.” 

“Dat’s because you’ve fuckeds so manies!” Toki laid on his back and sighed. They were seriously in different worlds.

Skwisgaar chuckled. “Maybes.” After a pause, he added. “Tells me about your nightsk.”

Toki was almost a bit too ready to talk. “Soes, I went to dis parties and I trieds to score some goils. Dere was this really pretties redhead, but she totallies turneds me down…” He pouted. “And then her boyfriends gots really mad at mes-”

“She had a boyfriend?” Skwisgaar seemed somehow impressed. “Dats bold, Toki.”

“I didn’t knows!” Toki said. “I thoughts she was alones…anyways. He trieds to punches me soes…” He cleared his throat. “I kicks his ass.”

“You gots into a fight?” Skwisgaar raised his voice slightly, indicative of his surprise.

“H-He starteds it!” Toki defended himself. “And I wasn’ts gonna loses…not in fronts of da pretties lady…”

“So, yous kicked her boysfriendsks ass.” Skwisgaar concluded.

“Wells…yeah-buts...” Toki gazed at Skwisgaar and found him smirking. ���Oh, you ams just teasings me right nows!”

Another chuckle and Skwisgaar returned to his guitar. “You ams such a kids, Toki.” There was a tint of fondness in his tone.

Toki frowned. “Whatevors.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It amsnt a big deals anyway.”

“Shores.”

Toki stared at Skwisgaar who was too focused on the guitar to notice. He felt his eyelids heavy from all the alcohol he had ingested, his head spinning like a whirl and his body clumsy. Even so, he decided to stand up. “Heys.” 

“Hmm?”

“Let’s dance.” Toki said.

Skwisgaar shook his head. “You knows I don’ts like danskcings.”

“I don’t cares.” Toki stretched his arms towards him. “Gets up.”

“Noes.”

“Come on, Skwisgaar!” Toki insisted. “Don’ts be borings!”

“There amsnt even musics to dance toes.”

Toki walked to the stereo and put a random station on. It was playing sappy rock. “Deres.” He turned to Skwisgaar, gesturing. “Now gets up.”

Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, but did as told. “Dat’s dildos music.”

“Yea, yea.” Toki reached to hold Skwisgaar’s hand. “Now turns.”

As he let himself be spinned, Skwisgaar added. “Dancings ams dildos toos.”

“Shut ups.” Toki said, looking down. “Watch your steps.”

“Eugh.” Skwisgaar groaned, trying to keep up with Toki’s feet. Even while drunk, he still had more grace than the huge Swede. “I hates dis.”

“And yets, you keeps accepting everytimes.” Toki smiled, this time he was the one spinning under Skwisgaar’s reluctant arm. 

“You ams too annoying.” Skwisgaar said. “Like a whinies dog whats can’ts stop yappings. I has to shuts you up somehows.”

“Oh, shut its, I knows you like dancings with me.” Toki said. In a miscalculation, he accidentally stepped on Skwisgaar’s foot and lost his balance, falling forwards. “Oh, shits!” On reflex, he held onto Skwisgaar’s waist.

“Ams you okays?” Skwisgaar asked, concerned.

“Yeah.” Toki said, still hugging Skwisgaar. 

“...Cans you-”

“No.” Toki closed his eyes, nestling against Skwisgaar’s shoulder. “Shuts.”

Skwisgaar audibly sighed, but he accepted and they slowly waved with the music. He really liked Skwisgaar. Because thanks to him he had a home and a family, of course. But also because he was so nice to him even though he pretended to be cool and distant. And he smelled good and he was so nice to look at. And nice to touch, and…

Toki slowly raised his eyes to him, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Skwisgaar. 

“Toki?” He saw Skwisgaar call him, though his voice sounded like he was far away. 

He smiled, messy and impulsive thoughts taking reign over him once again. With the coordination he had left, Toki stood on his tiptoes and meshed their lips together. 

It only lasted a second before Skwisgaar pushed him away from him, brows furrowed. “Toki, I alreadies tolds you-”

Undeterred, Toki stroked the side of Skwisgaar's face, more alcohol in his veins than common sense. “It amsnt no big deals…” He whispered, their lips brushing each other before he locked them again. 

This time, Skwisgaar lingered before pulling away and Toki could see in his expression that he was conflicted. And he was so pretty too.

“Comes on…” Toki urged him, unable to contain the goofy grin on his face. 

Almost resigned, Skwisgaar was the one closing the distance between them this time. His lips were firm but soft against Toki’s. Briefly, he broke away and glanced at Toki with uncertainty before kissing him with full force. 

Toki had kissed a lot of girls ever since he joined Dethklok. Pretty girls, hot girls, beautiful girls. He had made out with so many by now and most of the time he had really enjoyed it. Less often he had loved it, even.

But no one had beat Skwisgaar. No, kissing Skwisgaar was different, it was unique and borderline magical. Toki couldn’t get enough of his kisses, though he only had the bravery to ask for them when he was intoxicated. It felt safe, it felt easy. 

And most importantly, it felt good.

Skwisgaar shoved him against the wall and Toki was suddenly glad he didn’t get laid that night. He held the sides of Skwisgaar’s face with devotion, tilting his own head for a better angle. The kiss deepened and Toki couldn’t hold back a moan when Skwisgaar bit his lower lip, way too entranced and inebriated to play cool. 

It would’ve been embarrassing how ready he was to give Skwisgaar full access to his mouth the moment he felt his tongue slide across over the bitten lip if he didn’t know that Skwisgaar was into it too. Why else would he pull Toki so close, as if he didn’t want to let him go? Why would one of his hands stealthily run under Toki’s shirt and the other one over his neck? Why would he hungrily devour Toki’s mouth?

Skwisgaar loved it, even if it was just the ego boost of making someone melt under his touch. Toki couldn’t help but hope that he wasn’t doing this with other Dethklok members. He couldn’t dream of monopolizing Skwisgaar’s lips over the ladies, but at least he could be the only bandmate he occasionally made out with.  

When Skwisgaar pulled away, it was akin to someone going back to the surface after being submerged for too long. “Okays! No mores of dis.” He said, seemingly more to himself than to Toki.

The only reason why Toki was able to hide his disappointment was because that singular session was going to keep him going for several weeks at the very least. “Did I tells you I went to a party?”

“Ja, you dids.” Skwisgaar sling an arm over his shoulder. “Let’s get yous some rest.”

Toki giggled stupidly. “Ams you invitings me to your beds?”

“Ams inviting you to sleeps.” Skwisgaar purposefully ignored the remark, placing Toki’s back on the wide mattress. He didn’t move away fast enough, though, and Toki pulled him in for another kiss. “Enofs.” He said, after indulging for more than a few seconds. “Go sleeps, Toki.”

Toki gazed at Skwisgaar with stars in his eyes. “Thank yous.”

Skwisgaar frowned slightly. “Yous welcomes. But one days I won’t be takingsk cares of you no mores.”

“Ja…” Toki smiled, looking over to the empty ceiling. “But untils dat…” The tiredness was washing over him like a water dam being opened. At some point Skwisgaar held his hand, though that could’ve been part of a dream.

Not that he’d remember the next morning anyway. 

[e-m-p-error]

🍎 ｡:*• ─ HALLOWEEN COUNTDOWN CHALLENGE.     ›  Day Twenty-Seven

[ Valentino ]

27. Pick a character from one of their favourite Halloween movies and write a small interaction/drabble between them and your muse.

Val isn't really a horror movie kind of guy but I recently watched someone play Dead Rising 2 and fucking TK would get on with him so well sooooo I'm running with that. The fic is 733 words long, and so it's going to be under a cut for length. The worst cw is smoking.

Rounding a corner, Tyrone hit a wall of sweet, red, cherry-scented smoke like it was an actual wall. Immediately it set him to coughing, and he had to cover his mouth with one hand to try and inhale something else. The smoke smelt different, felt different, than what he was used to. It felt warm, it felt like a caress, it felt like—

A hand! 

There was a huge, spidery, black hand reaching out of the smoke and touching his face! Tyrone had but a second to react, and what he did end up doing surprised him. Smacking the hand away from him, he let out a gasp of horror as the rest of the creature, robed in alarm bell red, twisted into view.

He first noticed those glowing, hot pink eyes, slits in a periwinkle face behind–Sunglasses? Gold-framed, heart-shaped, pink lenses glinted in the low light of the maintenance tunnel. A tall red... Thing? Hat! A tall red hat with a wide brim flopped around its head as two long stalks, one thin and twiggy in a heart-shaped pattern, and the other long and feathered with the same motif, lifted in agitation.

“You don't like whatcha see, Baby?” A surprisingly handsome voice leered at him from behind glowing pale red teeth—With a gold tooth, he noted, “I promise you this, Sweet Thing, I was quite a looker when I was alive.”

When he was alive?

Out of the frying pan and into the fucking inferno, apparently. Tyrone glanced behind him and decided to take his chance on the thing that was capable of speech.

“Man, we don't got time for this shit, those— They're comin', and they'll send you right back where you came from.” The human took the too-long, too-big hand still in the air where his face had been and bolted without thinking. 

Two corners, this time, were turned with a steady clicking of the exceedingly tall man's (?) heels. Until he felt they were alone enough, Tyrone wasn't going to stop moving, and it seemed his unwitting passenger was just along for the ride. Whatever was behind him, Tyrone would deal with later. If something was going to kill him, it would be the infected. Whatever this thing was, this guy, he thought, was at least someone he could reason with. There was no reasoning with the infected.

When they were finally a safe distance from the hoard of zombies behind them, Tyrone finally came to a stop, winded. It seemed the thing tagging along with him was, too, if the loud wheezing and coughing to his right said anything.

“The fuck...” Tyrone finally began, looking up from where he held his knees in both hands, “Are you?”

“Sure is a rude-ass thing to ask someone you just fuckin’ met.” The creature snapped, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward on his knees.

“You're not human, are you?" The human asked, narrowing his eyes, and the demon before him laughed, straightening up to his natural, impossible height. Tyrone didn't know just how tall, but this thing—guy—was huge.

”I'm not anymore, no, Baby. You got a couple more questions before you wear out my patience. Daddy don't got all damn day, now.”

“Daddy?” Tyrone's voice was flat, and the creature sighed.

“How about I introduce myself, Baby? Valentino, Overlord of lust and depravity in Hell.”

“Hell? Demons?!“ Tyrone whipped around in a circle, hands on his head, elbows tented, ”Fucking shit, man, like I need this bullshit.“ He tapped his chest, and Valentino's head lifted when he heard a familiar sound of fabric paper.

”Got somethin' you need to unload, Baby? Daddy loves money. You give me what you got and I'll triple it when you die.“ He held out a hand, ”Deal?“

Tyrone narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing that hand before his brain caught up to him. Grabbing Val's hand, he shook it eagerly, readily willing to make triple what he had on his person.

”Deal!“ It sounded too good to be true because it was. Pulling the bag off his shoulder and emptying the cash out of his pockets into it, he handed the bag over to the other man, watching him shoulder it without a single problem.

”See you in Hell, Baby~“ Valentino purred, disappearing suddenly in another cloud of red, cherry-scented smoke. 

Tyrone didn't know exactly how short his time before seeing Valentino was going to be, unfortunately.

[felidthing]

my disk space is running out an i have absolutely no idea what to clear and how to clear it and my pen pressure isnt working but i DONT HAVE THE DISK SPACE to update wacoms shit and my computer is slowing down so much because of the DISK SPACE and im already on the fucking brink and this is Not what i need right now man

[lavendertales]

My dearest Ari, since your requests are open, I was wondering if you could write something Christmassy with Javier.

Maybe there’s a Christmas party at the Embassy, some hanging mistletoe, and Steve pushes two pining idiots under it and they kiss before revealing their feelings for one another...

Love you ❤️

Annie!! ❤️ Oh I am living for the soft, holiday-themed vibes!!

pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

warnings: just soft and smitten Javi. you caught me, I’m a sucker for that.

gif: @hunterschafer 

Oddly enough, the Embassy’s efforts to get its employees into the holidays spirit seemed to be working.

Everyone, from the higher names to the usual agents were mingling with one another, drinking and exchanging information which was finally not based on their work. It wasn’t always easy t o detach yourself in that field, but for tonight, they could press pause on chaos.

Javier’s nerves were far from being soothed though. He seemed jumpy and more tense than usual, gripping onto the glass of whiskey as if were a life vest. The little ticks and gestures did not go unnoticed by Steve as he approached him curiously.

“You good?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

So that was denial. Steve watched where Javier’s eyes went and when both their glares landed on you, then it made sense.

You had been quite the distraction at the office, especially for Javier. Though he didn’t admit to it, his eyes followed you everywhere you went. Sometimes he went out of his way to keep you safe during missions, checking on you and appearing overall smitten. But God forbid anyone mention anything like that to his face.

But Steve wasn’t anyone.

“I’m not gonna wipe your drool from the floor,” he cooed at Javier.

His partner frowned. “What?”

“Come on, man, you’re embarrassing yourself. You’re clearly smitten.”

Javier threw him a harsh look, as ice-cold and vicious as he could before chugging down the rest of the whiskey. He took a deep breath, not bothering to respond just yet.

“Javi. Seriously?”

“What do you want to hear, Murphy? That I think that’s one of the most attractive people I have ever seen? That I can’t stop thinking about – “

You waltzed your way to the pair, smile painting your face brightly and eggnog in your hand.

“Hey guys.”

“Look at you in the holiday spirit,” Steve commented.

“Love me some good eggnog.”

Javier resorted to merely smiling at you, words fleeting from his mind. It was shocking even for Steve. So the latter huffed and gently nudged the two a bit further away.

“Huh. Would you look at that,” Steve acted all surprised. “Mistletoe.”

You looked up, chuckling at the silly tradition whilst Javier pulled at his tie, clearing his throat. 

“Well. I guess three’s a crowd, so I’m gonna go get acquainted with Hernandez over there. Have fun!”

When Steve left, Javier was left with a huge hole in his stomach, one that couldn’t vanish by an overwhelming amount of alcohol. 

“It’s no big deal, Javier, we don’t have to,” you reassured him.

“Is it okay if I –?”

With wide eyes, you couldn’t help but smile and nod. You had to admit, your own skin was afire the more Javier’s face inched closer to yours, his warm breath barely touching your lips, soon being replaced by his own lips.

It was soft and somewhat hesitant, yet filled with the kind of passion that only Javier knew how to provide. You weren’t a dummy, you heard the stories and rumors around the office, but you didn’t want to judge before you had all the facts.

There you go. You had your fact.

When you separated, Javier’s facial expression changed as well to a much more relieved one, though the crease between his brows told you otherwise.

“I can see some of the rumors I heard were right,” you teased him.

“What rumors?”

“None that should worry you. But some were right. You are a good kisser.”

Javier actually felt flustered for the first time in his life. One look at you and it was all he took to know that you might be someone special.

“I do like you, you know?” you confessed. “You’re a bit of a fixer upper, but… who isn’t?”

Javier swallowed, mouth filled with words he couldn’t voice at the time.

“I think you’re incredible,” he muttered.

“I think we owe it to Murphy, don’t we?”

“Great. Now we’re never gonna hear the end of it.”

You chuckled, pressing a light kiss on his cheek, shuddering at how soft his skin felt, at how warm that man could be in ways you had yet to explore.

permanent Pedro crew:

@doin-stuff @pedro-pastel @acourtofsnakes @beskarboobs @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @rosiefridayrogersunday @imcalledflorence @boxdyeblonde @artsymaddie @casssiopeia @sleep-tight1 @pasckles @northernpunk @wantingpedropascal @evelynseventyr @itssmashedavo @phoenixhalliwell @elegantduckturtle @mylifeinthetardisforever @ohhersheybars @kingsqueensandvagabonds @greeneyedblondie44 @sebbys-girl @mrsparknuts @hnt-escape @hayley-the-comet @spideysimpossiblegirl @lsphoenix @kirsteng42 @lunaemss @goldielocks2004 @diogodxlot @gracie7209 @floraandfrost @mejswho @dobbyjen @janebby @what-iwish-you-knew @jedi-jesi @kaqua @datenshi666 @stevie75 @ezras-channel-rat @for-my-satisfaction @quica-quica-quica @mishasminion360 @eri16 @lovesbiggerthanpride @xaestheticalien @grandfanficstation @mrsudontknowme @hello-i-am-daydreaming @mando-s-wife @pastamomma @midwesternwitchery @headinthestarz @drreidsconverse @dindjarinneedsahug @captainjaspenor @pscalwhiskey @1800-fight-me @phandoz@pedrostories @ayrusss 

Requests are open! 

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

[younghosfavewhore]

don’t rush

[s] 

plot; you find out hendery’s a virgin, but he wants to change that. what kind of friend would you be not to take him up on the offer?

pairing; virgin!hendery x semi-experienced fem!reader

prompts; [s]13 “God, you feel amazing.” [s]31 “I want you so bad.” 

warnings; MATURE CONTENT, kinda fluffy, oral (m receiving), fingering, swearing, protected sex

wc; 2.5k

"you're a virgin?" you exclaim in shock. 

"yes, could you be any louder?" hendery replies. 

"sorry, its just... surprising to say the least." 

"how so?"

"you don’t look like a virgin."

"what does a virgin look like?" he chuckles

"i’m not even sure." you laugh. “not as good looking as you. with your looks, you’d think you would have some experience.”

“huh, is that a compliment?” he smiles.

“sure, yea. it’s not like it’s a bad thing to be a virgin i just never really took you for one.” you smile back. “i can’t believe i’m just now finding out; you never thought to tell me this before?”

“never came up.” 

you and hendery had been friends for about 4 years now. of course you had discussed sex before, but never too in-depth; only because there were other things to talk about. it just wasn’t important. but hendery, a virgin? this was probably the most shocking thing he’s ever told you.

“why are you so interested anyways?” he jokes.

“i’m not, it’s just you never thought to tell me!”

“it wasn’t important! and it still isn’t!” he smiles. “plus, if it were that easy, i wouldn’t be a virgin. it’s not like i’m choosing to not have sex.”

“so then what is it? is it something sappy like, ‘you’re waiting for the one’?” you tease him.

“yea, actually. well, something like that. i just want it to be meaningful, y’know? what if the girl only wants me for sex? or ends up telling people? i can’t just go around doing things like that, y/n. i have to be smart about this. it has to be someone i trust.”

you were struck into silence, hendery had rarely talk about his feelings to this extent.

“shit, i didn’t even think about it like that.” you reply. “that makes sense. don’t worry, a guy like you is bound to find the perfect person.”

“honestly... if it’s not too direct,” he starts. “i trust you.”

your eyes widen. “huh?”

“not like- i just mean-”

“you trust me... to have your virginity?” you question.

“yes? i mean, you’re practically the only girl i talk to. and you have experience, right? who else would be a better fit?”

“maybe a future girlfriend?” you joke, though you’re half serious. the pressure of doing something as significant as taking his virginity... was way too much to bear. “you shouldn’t feel obligated-”

“i don’t feel obligated, y/n. honestly, i’ve thought about this before, i hope that doesn’t seem weird, but i have. nothing would have to come of it. it can just be sex, but the difference is that i’m more... fond of you?”

“fond? hendery what are you saying?” you knew what he was trying to say, but you need the clarification.

“i like you? not in an ‘i want a relationship’ way. but, like i said, i just trust you, plus you mean a lot to me anyway. if you don’t want to do it, don’t feel pressured. at all. but, if you’d consider it, that wouldn’t be horrible...” his voice trails off.

“when?”

“what?”

“when would you want to do it?” you look at him.

“is that a yes?” he smiles.

“eh, i still have to think about it. you’re right, it wouldn’t be horrible,” you tease. “now answer the question: when?”

“today?”

“today?” you reply to his question with a question. “exactly how much time have you spent thinking about this?”

“not enough to know what i’m doing, but enough to know that i want to do it.” he chuckles.

the setting became tense. you and hendery were at your house. alone. it was getting dark, meaning it was around 6. your parents weren’t in town, they normally weren’t, it wasn’t a huge deal. but the tension; you and hendery were always touchy and clingy, but now the finger that he’s tracing up your arm had a completely different aura.

“have you ever kissed someone?” you reply, it seemed like a dumb question but you needed to gauge his experience.

“yes, i’m not that much of a virgin.”

you can’t help but laugh at his newfound confidence. "are you good at it?"

"you tell me." without hesitation, he leans in towards you and kisses you.

you freeze for a second and he pulls away. the kiss was all too short, but he wasn't bad. at all.

"should i not have done that?" hendery asks as his eyes scan yours.

you don’t respond, instead, you press your lips back to his.

hendery brings his hand up to your chin, pulling you closer to him and deeper into the kiss. he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats, as usual, but now you could notice a bulge in his pants.

“are you hard?” you ask, breaking the kiss.

“shit, am i?” he smiles and looks down to his groin. “already?”

you smile back and the tension fills the room again.

“can i sit on your lap?” you ask and his eyes widen.

“but... i’m hard.”

“yea, that’s the point. i’ll grind on you, it’ll feel good.”

he nods and gestures for you to sit. you climb on top of him, straddling his lean frame. he hesitantly places his hands on your hips. you lean back in to kiss him and the sensation of his erection pressed against you causes a moan to slip out.

“sorry...” you mumble and see a smile on hendery’s face.

“don’t be.” he pulls you back into the kiss as his grip tightens on your hips.

you start to grind on him, very slightly at first, almost teasing him. he grunts into your mouth, a quiet form of encouragement and you grind a bit faster.

“does this feel alright?” you were experiencing your own bliss.

he nods, “take this slow, ok? don’t rush.” he smiles and presses kisses against your neck.

“ok,” you whisper and a cheesy grin plasters across your face. “just let me know if you want to stop.”

“i don’t think i’d ever want this to stop.” his hand latches onto your ass as he talks. “i’ve always wanted to do that.”

“i think you’ve thought about this more than you’re letting on.” you tease him.

“maybe...“ he smiles and presses his lips back against yours.

you grind a bit faster, admiring the way his hands grip your skin and his lips move with your own. his hands trail up your back, pressing you against his chest. he lies back and his bulge is a lot more prominent against you. you sit up, break the kiss, plant your hands against his chest and grind against him harder at this new angle.

he bites his lip before swearing, “fuck, y/n...” he braces his hands back on your hips, guiding them to hit where you and him both want. 

his eyes bore into yours and suddenly his innocent aura seemed long gone.

“can i take off my shirt?” you ask, wanting to assure that you weren’t moving too fast.

he nods and helps lift the seam of your shirt, sliding it over your head. hendery’s hands immediately move to your breasts, he nearly rips off your bra and the hunger in his eyes became evident.

“what happened to taking it slow?” you tease.

“fuck that,” he smiles and begins taking off his own shirt, “i just want you so bad, y/n. i don’t think i’ve ever wanted anyone this bad in my life.” he chuckles.

‘i’m glad we’re feeling the same way.” you smile and start to untie his sweatpants. “is this ok?”

“you don’t have to keep asking,” his hands begin toying with your nipples. “i trust you, remember?”

you smile before climbing off of him. he looks a bit confused until you say, “i want to suck you off.”

his eyes widen and he hesitates, you thought you may have made a wrong move. “really?”

“yes,” 

“o-ok...” he replies.

“don’t be nervous,” your hands trail over his bulge. “i know what i’m doing.” you smile.

he nods and lets his head fall back on your bed. you slide off his sweats and see a small, damp spot on his boxers; precum. you place a peck on the spot, you weren’t even sure why. this moment was just so endearing, you couldn’t help yourself. he lets out a soft whimper. he was so sensitive. you softly rub the hard bulge, watching for his reaction. he groans and slightly jerks his hips forward.

you slide off his boxers and he was so much bigger than you expected. his cock was thick, so thick, and veiny. you trace your fingers along the blue and red streaks and he lets out more whimpers. you notice precum dripping from the thick tip of his cock and lap it up.

his hips buck up and his tip is shoved into your mouth. you hear his groans get muffled by his hands. you take as much of his cock as you can into your mouth, struggling to wrap your mouth around his girth and letting out small moans as you do so.

“y/n... s’good...” he murmurs.

you bring your hand up to his balls, they were plump and heavy; full of cum and begging to be emptied. you fondle them for a bit and his hips jerk again, shoving his cock further into your throat. you gag a bit, moaning at the stretch of your mouth. spit runs down his cock and he sits up, admiring the sight.

“so fuckin’ good.” his eyelids were heavy. his hands make their way to your cheek. slowly, he glides his cock in and out of your mouth, not quite fucking your face but just enjoying the sight of your plump lips wrapped around his cock.

he slides his cock out of your mouth and you both let out a moan at the absence.

“that was...” his voice trails off when you wrap your hand around his cock, tightly stroking it. “fuck, y/n. you’re amazing. but i need more.”

you smile, sitting up and releasing your grip.

 he sits up with you and starts to untie your shorts.

“what position do you want to do?” you ask, obviously catching him off guard.

“which do you prefer?” 

“this isn’t about me.” you remind him with a smile.

he slides your shorts off and latches onto your ass again. “you’re the experienced one here.” he smiles, placing kisses on your chest and breasts. “how about missionary? i want to see all of you while we fuck.”

his words send butterflies straight to your core. “hendery… so bold…” you joke as you lie down beneath him.

the angle allows him to see the wet spot on your underwear. he grazes a finger over it, sending a shiver down your spine. his hands make their way to your boobs, he hovers over you, kissing and licking at your neck and jawline. 

“hendery…” you moan.

he slips off your underwear, running a finger along your shiny, wet, folds. “should i finger you first,” he asks. “to stretch you out?”

you nod, bringing your hands to caress his tone abs. you moans as he slips a finger into you.

“shit, you’re… tight.” he whimpers, his fingers squirming inside you.

“faster…” you whimper, already craving more of him.

he pumps his finger faster in and out of you, the sound and sight of your soaking pussy turned him on so much.

“can i add another?”

you nod, you’ll need the stretch before he goes inside you anyways.

he slips another finger inside of you. he curves it and hits your spot perfectly. 

“fuck, hendery. you���re so good.” you whimper.

he lifts a hand to rub your clit and you arch your back in response. hendery seemed indulged in your pleasure, closely observing your reaction to his touch. you glance down at his cock, precum dripped down his shaft.

“condoms… in my dresser…” you whimper, subliminally pleading for him to finally fill you up.

he nods, slips out of you, walks to your dresser and grabs a condom. you admire his body as he walks back, ripping the package open. he slides the condom on, positioning himself in front of your spread legs. he flicks your clit before teasing your wet slit with the head of his cock.

“fuck… so warm.” he groans

he thrusts into you, his stature faltering. he lets out loud groans as he bottoms out inside you. his groans mingle with your moans and whimpers; the feeling of him stretching out your tight pussy was overwhelming.

“f-fuck, hendery.” your hands grasp at his biceps, needing something to grip onto. 

his hands grab your waist, clenching onto you for stability. “fuck...fuck. y/n, you’re so tight.” he pulls out, leaving just the tip in before slamming back in to you. for his first time, he was doing amazing. “god, you feel amazing… i don’t think i’ll last…” he grunts.

you pull his body down to yours, wrapping your arms and legs around his frame. he kisses you before starting to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first but building a steady rhythm. he groans into your mouth, the kiss was messy but his strokes weren’t.

“you’re doing s-so well.” you pant as he fucks into you.

he smiles, pressing wet kisses on your neck.

“d-don’t stop.” he was fucking you into oblivion, his pace was still slow and consistent but you needed more. “faster, please?” you whimper.

he sits back up, bringing your legs to his shoulders. he took in the sight of your face contorted in pleasure as he sped up his thrusts.

“like this?” he stammers and grunts as you tighten around him.

“yes,” you moan in response. “just like that.” your whimpers echo in the room; an epiphany of vulgar sounds mixing in the tense air.

“fuck, y/n… i’m so close…” he pants, speeding up his thrusts even more. his finger moves to your clit, rubbing it and sending you into orbit.

“i-i’m coming. please, just like that- don’t stop-” you ramble until you hit your high.

the room is now silent, your mouths agape, eyes burning into each other’s as you orgasm around his cock. simultaneously, his cock empties out into the condom. you both remain still, breathless as you come down from your high. hendery’s weight drops onto you and you wrap your arms around him, savoring the feeling of his thick cock twitching inside of you.

“fuck.” he growls quietly into your ear. “just... fuck.”

he slides off of you, his and your body too limp and fucked out to move.

“we really just did that,” you smile, turning to look at him.

“we did.” he smiles back. “and it was fucking amazing.” beads of sweat now covered his forehead and chest.

“you did really well.” you compliment him and kiss his cheek.

“thank you,” he smiles, pecking your lips. “maybe we should do this more often?”

“you wish,” you tease. “maybe it wouldn’t be horrible… but for now, we need to clean up.” you smile and gesture to the condom.

he slides it off, and tosses it in the trash.

“shower?” you say, offering him your hand.

he nods, takes your hand and you make your way to your bathroom.

[rotshop]

get prankt this isn't an angst fic lol ,,

ANYWAY ,, i realized earlier that i could've just been calling 'auditor reader' employer reader this whole time and then i had a funny silly goofy little idea and now we r here,,,lol,,, ill proof read this later but i did this in one go no breaks so . help.

I might continue this later so!! consider this a sort of 'introduction' if u will,,

note ; auditor uses he / she / they pronouns in this bc ive decided im just going to push my propaganda onto all of you <333 also Hank uses he / they / xe

tw ; dissociation, dereality, some light body horror

Bloody Management

"This is out of your jurisdiction. You've wasted enough time here," you seethed dryly, staring down at the shorter being. "You've made no progress and have only proved your operation to be a strain on our relations and resources."

"Out of MY jurisdiction? YOU'VE never even been there before! You think you can just storm in and suddenly kick me out of my own work?" Auditor shot back, hands slamming down on the mahogany desk in front of her.

"Yes, actually, I do," you snapped, eyes narrowing. "I think you're forgetting just who you're speaking to. You've let this drag on for far too long and your ego has grown in tandem with its pointlessness."

Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continued. "Look, I understand. You put effort and thought into this little pet project of yours, but the results have all proven zilch. You fucked up, that's fine, but you can't keep meddling with this reality in hopes something will suddenly work again! All you're doing is tearing and poking holes the rest of us will have to deal with later."

"If you just gave me a little more time I could-"

"We've been giving you time. We've given you more time than we've ever given any project like yours," you gave a desperate look, "It's over. You tried and we tried, there's nothing that can be done. If you just worked with us then we could help you."

There was a long silence as they faltered, hands falling into their lap as their gaze followed, landing on the floor.

"And what happens to my Nevada?"

"We'll try and clean it up again. Return it to..some sort of normalcy," you hummed, "Though, with some of those tears in the fabric it'll take a bit longer than anticipated. That..clown, is proving to be rather difficult."

You paused, grin finding it's way onto your face.

"It's been tricky, if you will."

"Not the time."

You gave a 'tsk' in response, shrugging lightly, "I don't regret it."

"You'll be going back to our depths, effective immediately. While this project was a failure, we're still curious to see if there's anything else that can be done in a different time and place."

"And what about you? Are you going to sit all pretty in this fake office for the rest of eternity?" She questioned sarcastically, eyes dragging up to meet yours.

"God, I wish. I mean, seriously, you have no idea how nice it is to have some peace and quiet after dealing with that fuckin' office."

With a dry snicker and -presumably- an eye roll, they finally stood accepting their defeat.

"I presume I'll be seeing you?"

"If your little posse doesn't cause me too much trouble, yes."

"Have fun with that, I do hope it's as grueling as possible," he hummed, turning and striding towards the door to nothing.

"Thanks, was nice seeing you too."

The door peering to the void shuts soundlessly.

.

.

.

"Was the pun really that bad?.."

---

"What do you mean they're just neutral suddenly? It's not like they all just suddenly unionized or sum' shit! There's gotta be something going on," Deimos groaned, irritation dragging onto him and clinging desperately.

"Well- What do you want me to say! I'm just as confused as you are," Sanford huffed back over comms, making a vague gesture with no audience.

Hank stood in the other room, staring down at the few agents that were on their knees with their hands held tight behind their heads. They'd made no attempt to attack Sanford and xem, simply staring in a bit of surprise when the two'd busted in. It'd completely thrown the raid off, leaving them both in a state of stunned confusion. The agent that they'd asked about the sudden change in demeanor just gave some shaky shrug, stammering out that they'd all received an order to not attack under any circumstances from some unknown contact. 'They really just listen to anyone then?..'

It was hard to believe, hard to find any reason or meaning in that lead to any conclusive endings. Which, had lead to a small dispute going nowhere and fast. Hank only picked up on little parts of it, the words being muffled and distorted through the wall. Xe didn't really have much interest in getting a clearer reading of it though, it didn't sound like it meant much.

"Look, I'm just going to try and look for any documents or actual recordings of this apparent 'ghost order,' alright?..." A pause. "Deimos? Are you there? Shit- Of course the line dies now of all times."

The line wasn't dead. It was somewhere else, some-when else.

---

The ground felt cold.

.

.

No, was it warm?

Wait- No no no, it wasn't warm..

.

.

.

Was it even the ground?

.

.

Did it even matter?

.

Deimos could fuzzily recall it. Arguing with Sanford over the line. The points he made exactly didn't seem to ring through the fog of confusion and numb in his mind. Something about the Auditor, the agents, blah bla..something.

He'd been making to say something else when he'd seen it, something off in the corner of his eye. It wasn't anything huge, if you asked him he wouldn't even be able to tell you what it was. There was something wrong, but there wasn't. The ground was cold, but it was warm.

Something was wrong.

Everything is fine.

He'd turned around, looking around for whatever in his vision wasn't right.

That's rude to say, you know.

He'd never found it, something reaching from the depths to grab him.

You're making me sound awfully cruel.

With a groan, he picked himself up off the ground to observe his surroundings. White and black stretched infinitely around him, the 'ground' underneath him was the deepest of not-color while the 'sky' was its blinding twin. A building stood in front of him, a mix of ivory and ink twisted to form its structure. The door faced him, standing tall and straight as a soldier in spite of how tilted and off the world felt.

Before he could even really register it, something was pulling him up off the floor. There were no hands or strings physically attached, nothing sticking from him to drag into the infinite beyond his comprehension, no no. It was something quiet, a ghost or a whisper in his mind that pulled him through the ocean and to shore. The door grew larger- closer. His mind grew blanker. His hand twisted the knob.

Color flooded into his vision finally, the room in front of him coated in it graciously. The floors were a velvet carpeting, a wine red that felt of lavish and glitzy. The walls were lined in bookshelves, each filled to the brim with titles somewhere between poetry and latin white noise where imagination fell. At the head of the room stood a desk, polished mahogany standing tall and still, frozen indefinitely in time. Behind it, you.

Me.

Once again, he was pulled forward. Each step fell in front of the other, unsure of weight behind them and noise that followed suite. He felt half there. Half of a man and half of a void. It was..something.

Not pleasant, not bad.

The ground wasn't cold, wasn't warm.

It just was.

He finds himself meeting your gaze as he plops down into one of the seats in front of you. He finds his neck straining and bowing under phantom limbs that aren't there. He finds his eyes training on yours which stare back pointedly, finds himself between hot and cold. He finds himself sitting down before you as he watches from the window.

There's no window in the room.

"You must be so confused."

Your voice is in front of him, right? That's where you are, so your voice should be coming from there. It isn't though. It's around him somewhere. Even as you tilt your head to the side the noise of your own voice doesn't seem to follow it.

"Don't think too much on this all, alright?"

You mutter something. 'These grunts really weren't made for this- to be here. I'm surprised he even woke up.'

Someone nods in agreement.

"Wh..who are you?"

Is that his voice? It is. It has to be, it fell from his own mouth. He barely even felt it move. Is it his mouth? It has to be.

You pause for a moment, seemingly caught off guard. He doesn't know if its because he spoke or because of what he asked. Nobody clarifies.

"Why don't you call me [name]? That'll be easiest for you. I do apologize for dragging you here rather than appearing there," you hum, leaning forward on your desk. "I just wanted to make sure we had the utmost privacy."

I wanted to make sure you wouldn't be able to forget.

"Now, Deimos," is that his name? "I need to tell you something, I have to work on restoring things for you, so I can't deliver this message to everyone myself in the most..effective of ways. You won't mind filling your friends in for me, right?"

He doesn't answer. He can't. His tongue is lead and his mouth is stuck shut, if he opens it will surely be left that way for the rest of infinity- for the rest of this place, this time. Someone says yes in his voice.

"Good. Now, try to listen carefully..."

---

He wakes up on sand. He's sitting up quickly, stilted as his mind finds his body. His tongue is lighter, teeth separated once more as his jaws are their own entities again. The cliff is still under him, wind passing by him peacefully. The horizon stretches infinite.

The ground is warm, there's no mistaking it.

"Deimos? Are you there?"

He pauses briefly.

"I need to tell you guys something."

[ri-ahhh]

can u just give me mushy gushy shit with grayson like ethan has a girl over so the two of you decide to go out for a burger date and a walk at night? idk something like that pls 👉🏻👈🏻

A/N: I couldn’t even tell you how long this has been sitting in my drafts but I was looking through trying to find something to finish bc I was in the mood to write but not from scratch and found this lol. It was about halfway done and I have no idea where I was going with it but this is what it turned into as of today. Idek if there’s even anyone around here anymore to read this but whatever haha here it is.

You don’t usually mind being single. Even when your best friend/roommate Stella started seeing her boyfriend Charlie seriously, it didn’t give you any longing for a relationship of your own.

But there are some nights where you feel down and you just can’t handle it. The scenes of casual intimacy as soon as you get home and see them together — the vase of flowers on the kitchen island he must have brought over; the playful bickering across the room.

The incessant, unrelenting sound of a marathon session going on through the shared wall of your and Stella’s bedrooms.

You groan and turn the volume up on your AirPods, going straight to your messages next.

Wyd?

{G} 👀

Don’t be weird.

Pretty sure Stella and Charlie are trying to put a hole in the wall w her headboard and I can’t take it anymore.

Your roommate chooses that moment to let out a particularly enthusiastic “fuck!” If she weren’t your best friend, you might have given in to the urge to bang on the wall, but your phone lights up with Grayson’s reply anyway.

{G} E too.

{G} I mean like I can’t hear him but ik what’s going down in there

{G} I’d offer to pick u up but sounds like u need to get outta there lol. Meet me here?

You like the message and slip on some shoes, making sure to slam your bedroom door closed on your way out, as if it would make them pause even one thrust.

In the year that you’ve known him, Grayson Dolan has become one of your closest friends. The kind where you met as acquaintances, never talked much, but then you reconnected randomly and the conversation never stopped from there on. You talk about anything and everything, but recently you’ve bonded even more about being a perpetual third wheel. You knew he’d understand and not pass judgement on you in times like this, so it had been a no-brainer to text him as an escape from tonight.

He buzzes you into the gate when you get to his house, and he tells you over another text to go ahead and hop in the Porsche before he even gets outside. It makes you smile; night drives are your favorite, and while the Tesla is a vibe in its own right, there’s just something calming about someone (your attractive friend, no less) tangibly driving you around. It’s exactly what you need right now, no matter what destination he has in mind.

When he slides into the driver’s side not even a minute later, you’re almost overwhelmed by him. Looking far too good in your eyes for how casual he’s dressed in a well-fitting T-shirt and some grey sweats. Hair slightly damp from a recent shower.

He greets you with a grin and leans over the console to kiss your cheek, and you can smell the combination of his shampoo and a bit of cologne. You always appreciated that he doesn’t overdo the fragrance, and if possible it makes him even more intoxicating at times.

“Hey,” he says simply, sitting back in his seat and fastening the seatbelt.

“Hey.” You smile and watch him with a silent but fairly obvious appreciation as he reaches a hand to rest on the back of your seat, twisting the bit he needs to look out the back windshield. The Porsche has a backup camera, obviously, but he’s a cautious driver to a fault and insists he doesn’t fully trust them.

Grayson gets the car facing enough of the right direction to throw it in drive and exit down the long driveway. You shake your head and settle back, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and tucking your feet onto the seat beneath you.

“One day, we’ll be the ones making them leave the house,” he jokes, stopping for the gate to open.

You know it’s implied that he’s referring to the two of you with separate people, but you can’t help but consider the option that the two of you could make that happen together.

“I know for a fact you have a booty call list a mile long, Dolan,” you say with a raised brow. Despite the fleeting thought, keeping things lighthearted and platonic is much easier to deal with in reality. “You could have called one of them and done just that.”

He scoffs and pretends like you’ve just hurt him deeply, slapping a hand to his burly chest to clutch at his heart. “Excuse me, it is not a mile long.” He glances over at you with a held-back smirk. “A couple hundred yards, tops.”

You throw your head back with a loud cackle, looking out the window now as he turns onto the main road. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Damn, that’s a big word.” He likes to tease you about your extended vocabulary.

“Hopeless,” you elaborate, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes.

“Is that what that word means, or are you making fun of my high school dropout vocab?”

“Both.”

You let your head roll back against the headrest, turning to watch him, knees swayed to the side a bit. His form isn’t hidden in the dark at all, features lit up by the dash in front of him and the streetlights you’re passing by outside.

“Why didn’t you, then? Call one of them?”

Grayson shrugs. “Just didn’t really feel like spending time with people tonight.”

You’re silent for a moment and consider his answer. “Why did you agree to hang out, then? You didn’t have to.”

His eyes never leave the road, but you see the veins in his hand gripping the steering wheel bulge out for a moment as he squeezes it tightly.

“I guess I meant I didn’t want to spend time with people I don’t really care about.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it off with a sarcastic tone. “Aw, you care about me?”

“Of course I do,” he replies easily. “I’m not sure why, though. You’re so fuckin sassy sometimes.”

“You love it.”

The car rolls to a stop at a red light. Grayson’s hand slides from where it’s lightly gripping the gear shift, to yours, which is picking at a loose string on your leggings.

Your easy smile at the comfortable banter between you and Grayson falters some in surprise, but you let him turn your palm over and trace the lines of your hand softly. Both of your gazes are fixated on the way he tickles your skin when he says, “Yeah. I do.”

Your eyes shoot up, just in time to meet his. He looks at you with a weird mixture heat and vulnerability, and there’s a thick moment of silence, no longer than the single beat of your heart that you can hear thudding loud and clear in your ears, when suddenly the car behind you lays on the horn.

Both of you startle, and Grayson’s attention returns to the road ahead. He steps on the gas and takes his hand away, carding it through his hair roughly as you sink back into your seat with a disbelieving scoff.

“Oh my God, dude, you can’t just do that to me,” you blurt out, your heart in your stomach and your brain even lower. A helpless giggle escapes you, and you tug on your own locks. “Shit...”

“What?” he asks defensively, but you hear the tiny bit of the grin he’s wearing in his voice.

You turn your head to deadpan him, eyes wide. “You can’t just... imply something like that and give me sex eyes and not think you did something to me! Are you crazy?”

He gives a one-shouldered shrug with the arm resting on top of the steering wheel again. “Maybe. You’re proving my ‘sassy’ point all over again.”

“Oh my — don’t fuck with my head, Gray.”

“Hey.” His voice is deeper, more serious as the car comes to another stop. You’re only just now realizing you’ve reached the burger joint, and that the late hour made finding parking a nonexistent problem. He puts the car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt before doing the same to yours. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to fuck with your head, I promise. I just... didn’t want it to seem like I was coming on too strong too suddenly. I, uh, have a history of doing that.”

You stare at him, processing everything. “I know.”

He chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I know you do.”

There’s more silence. That heavy kind that happened right after his little impromptu confession.

“You know,” you finally speak up, finding your voice after mulling over your words, “I kinda love that you’re a douche.”

He looks a little taken aback, until understanding dawns on him, and his eyes light up in a way that has you smiling instantly with him. “Really?”

You nod. “Call me crazy.”

Grayson shifts closer in his seat, his pink tongue darting out to lick those plump lips. You mirror him, and this time you take the initiative to reach out for his hand. It’s warm and strong, just like the rest of him.

Like earlier, you watch your hands lightly caressing each other as you speak. “And I love that you come on strong. And that you put your heart out there.” You interlace your fingers, immediately in love with the contrast of his huge ones between your slim ones. “Makes things way easier for me.”

He grins wide. “There’s that sass again.”

You bite your lip through your smirk and tug him close to you with your clasped hands, your free one reaching behind his neck to drag his lips to yours. “Mm. Better shut me up, then.”

[oydan]

Title: The One the Morning After

Pairing: Atsumu Miya x OC

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters let alone the entirety of Haikyuu. I only own the OC characters mentioned.

A/N: I've been watching a lot of Friends now that I'm quarantined in my room, so I decided to create a one shot this time around inspired by the episode where Ross and Rachel broke up. There is obvious alterations to the script but the same main points that occurred will be mentioned throughout. I hope you all enjoy!

Please support me by liking, commenting, and/or reblogging my work; please. I follow back everyone that follows me!

Masterlist

“Thanks for coming over to help.” Akane says to the three male figures in her bedroom.

“No problem.” Kita smiles easily to wave off the small gesture. “Says you as her boyfriend. I want pizza. It's my cheat day and I don’t feel like waiting for Osamu to cook. Dragging your bed up four flights of stairs was not on my list of things to do.” Suna says while laying flat on the new mattress still in its plastic covering that it came in. “Stop whining, you big baby. While you guys were lugging it up I called to have it delivered to my apartment.” This time Kaori interrupts before her lazy boyfriend complains more.

“Why are we moving again?” Suna whines at the thought of having to move another inch. It was a wonder how the boy turned out to be a professional athlete.

“Because it was either that or going out to eat. Today is Atsumu’s big proposal and I wanna be here when she says yes.” It was a huge deal for the group of friends today but specially for the troublemaker duo. Unlike the rest of the other couples who met during high school Atsumu and Hiroko were childhood friends along with Osamu. The three of them met during their first year of elementary school when Koko shoved worms down Atsumu’s shirt because he was teasing her. Constant back and forth pranks; with Osamu sometimes getting caught in the middle, they grew up (sort of) and realized that those prank wars were more than a juvenile habit. Puberty hit and it seemed like while Atsumu struggled with his voice breaking and unwarranted “stiffness”, Koko grew into a curvy young woman that was the cause of his condition majority of the time. Before they knew it the pair took an interest in one another that developed into the relationship they were at now.

That was what the plan was but Osamu and Suna share a look that Kita caught while the girls were talking. “What?”

Osamu looked away too ashamed to say anything to his former captain. He was already feeling guilty holding on to this secret. If Atsumu wasn’t his brother he would have already spilled his guts to his long time friend. “Nothin’.” Suna just scrolled through his phone avoiding the topic as well. He didn’t want any part of this and if Atsumu actually went through with following what his teammates suggested of taking the secret with him to his grave, he may have to plan for his wake sooner than later.

Kita didn’t push it anymore not wanting to worry the girls but a loud slam followed by Atsumu’s desperate pleas, “Baby, just listen to me! I never meant for this to happen.”

“Why the hell should I!? I can’t fuckin’ believe ya!” Hiroko’s kansai dialect was normally hard to pin since moving to Tokyo for college but whenever she was livid her roots would come out heavily. Hearing the pair about to get into a huge blow out made Akane close her bedroom door to give them privacy. It wasn’t uncommon for the hotheads to clash every now and then in the girl’s shared apartment. Thinking it would be another argument that would cool itself off eventually after a screaming match she patiently waited. The two men that were trying to blend in with the room, stood rigid. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to do-“

“What!? Ya’ didn’t mean to fuck yo’ manager, Miya? Is that what you’re trying to say? Fuck ya’!” The three that were unaware of the affair either gasped in shock or found their eyes widened in surprise. Despite Atsumu’s exterior he always prioritized Koko and never once looked twice at another girl. Even when fans would throw themselves at him the man would stay true to her. “I swear she meant nothing to me, baby! It was-“

“Yet ya’ slept with her and jeopardized our whole relationship ya’ fuckin’ bastard!” The crashing of an object hitting the wall made everyone jump. “Then to make it better I have to read about it in a fuckin’ tabloid that my family sent me!” The crashing was non stop like she was throwing everything she could get her hands on. Meanwhile, Atsumu was doing his best to dodge each spiraling object heading his way but he was getting caught in the line of fire despite his agility. “I tried to pull the article so you and ya family never saw it! I was trying to protect ya.”

The air was cold when those words passed through his lips that you could see your own breath. “Protect me? You call lying to me protecting me? Cheating on me?”

“I wanted to tell you but then Meian and Tomas kept telling me that I shouldn’t. That I would just hurt you more by telling you. That I should have just never told-“

“You were going to just move on and pretend none of this happened? You were going to just continue to sleep next to me in bed at night with that on ya mind?” Atsumu could see her teeth grinding together like every word put a strain on her and truthfully in her mind it did. “You were going to have sex with me and possibly give me an STD because of your “mistake” with that whore…just so you didn’t have to own up to this?” She wanted to puke thinking about it. All she has ever known was Atsumu. The only person that had ever touched her was her first love and she truly believed it was mutual. It wasn’t about how “clean” the other partner was, her ailment was from the betrayal of it all.

“Baby, I wanted to tell you right away but how could I? I didn’t want to break your heart.” Atsumu’s voice wavered from seeing his girlfriend in so much pain. She tried to keep the anger on her face but her true emotions were leaking through now that her anger was slowly easing away. Instead it transformed to pain and all he wanted was for her to throw things at him once again. “I tried throwing her out right when I got your text this morning. There was nothing there. No after care, no cuddling, no real-“

“Hold on. Was she there? Was she still there when I came over this morning?” The hesitation was all she needed and that was when she ran to the bathroom to empty her stomach. Slamming and locking the door behind her knowing that Atsumu would try to follow after her.

The others inside the room at the same moment were listening in silently up until then before Akane spoke up. “I can’t believe him. Should we separate them?”

“No, I don’t think anything will be solved if we do. Let’s just let them talk it out.” Osamu speaks up while ruffling his hair in frustration.

“Did you know about this already?” Kita already knew the answer but he wanted to know if there was more. “…yeah we knew.” Suna rubs his neck uncomfortable about the situation.

“You didn’t tell me?” Kaori hits her boyfriend’s arm with a pout. “You’re her best friend. Do you really think it would be a good thing to hear from you? We were just hoping he followed our advice rather than his two brainless teammates.”

“Well, we’re going to be stuck here for a while I think.” Everyone groans and lays back in their respective spots until Koko finally emerges from the bathroom. Unfortunately it took a couple of hours before that happened. Atsumu’s light knocking was interrupted by Koko exiting the bathroom suddenly which made him jump up from his spot on the floor. “Are you ready to talk?”

“No, I’m ready to eat. The delivery man is on his way and I need to buzz him in.” Without sparing him a glance she brushes by the blonde to head over to the kitchen for a drink from the fridge. All he could do was stand there awkwardly while she ignored his presence. “Um…did you get me anything?” A scoff and a dirty look was directed at him. “Unbelievable. I bought pizza, you're gonna have to deal with whatever is on it.” Not wanting to anger her further, Atsumu just nods.

“I want pizza.” Suna mumbles to himself but everyone turns to give him a dirty look. “What? I’m hungry and our pizza is probably just sitting on the front mat outside.”

“You know, what are you even still doing here? I don’t want to see your face anymore.”

“I’m here because we need to talk about this.”

“Talk?” A dry laugh comes out in a mocking manner. “What is there to talk about? We’re done here.”

“No, we can work through this. We’ve been together since we were kids.”

“We started dating in high school, Miya.”

“Not to me. Ever since I first laid m’ eyes ya’ you’re all I wanted. When ya’ shoved those worms down my shirt I knew I was gonna marry ya.” Atsumu was an asshole to anyone that wasn’t his brother and even he got on his nerves more than a typical person would. Yet, with her he felt like they were one of the same. Cut from the same cloth like his mom used to say to him whenever she would come to his home as kids to wreak havoc on the neighborhood. He only ever felt that way with his actual twin that he literally shared the same womb as, but Koko was special. They held a different connection than him and his brother. She was his whole world; she still was, but a moment of weakness and curiosity got the best of him. The only person he had ever been with was his girlfriend. He always had the option but his eyes never seemed to waver from her. Even now the small bit of interest he showed in his manager from the Black Jackals turned out to be nothing in comparison to his tiny soul mate. That was all it ended up being mixed with loneliness that stemmed from being so far from his girlfriend.

“You’re a real son of a bitch you know.” She didn’t want to hear anything from his mouth anymore. Truthfully, she didn’t think she could physically handle hearing about what happened or hear his excuses as to why he did it.

Bzzzz. The intercom next to the front door buzzed signaling that her food was just down stairs. Pushing past Atsumu she made sure to check if it was the delivery service before buzzing them in. “Please, I want to fix this. I want you to hear me out.” She didn’t have the energy but his selfish demands to fix the hurt he caused without any care for her own feelings, pissed her off. The knock cut her off before she threw another object at the blonde’s head. She handed over the money for the pizza before shutting it once again. Still refusing to even look at him.

Atsumu was running out of his patience and ended up grabbing her arm before she could walk past him again. “Are you listening to me?”

“Dammit. Fine!” Her temper was so hot that she slapped his hand away, and threw the box in her hand on the table. “Okay you wanna talk bout it. Let’s talk. How was she?”

“Wh-“

“Was she good? Was she everything you fantasized about? You wanna talk about it, let’s talk ya bastard.”

“I-I.” Atsumu was lost at words, unsure what to tell her at this point. He wanted to be honest with her knowing that his lies got him there in the first place but that wasn’t the topic he wanted to divulge in with her.

Osamu was incredibly annoyed with his brother for taking so long. “Ya dumb ass just answer her. It was bad. Terrible. Icky. A fuckin preschooler has more adjectives.”

“She…she was different.”

The women wanted to throttle him while the men winced at the poor choice of words. “Idiot.”

“Good. Different.”

“I-I’ve only been with you. It wasn’t what I thought it would be like.” Osamu wanted to glue his mouth shut. Koko on the other hand felt something in her snap for a moment. Grabbing the fruit bowl on the table she ended up hurling it at his head which fortunately because of Atsumu’s reflexes he was able to avoid. But that didn’t stop her from grabbing the magazines on the table to start hitting him over the head with it. “Should we do something?” Kaori was getting nervous hearing the loud crash. Not out of concern for Hiroko’s physical well being but for the possible chance she may end up murdering Atsumu. “Yeah don’t cheat on Koko that’s for sure.” Suna snorts from his spot on the bed looking through his phone once again to pass time. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up flower arrangements for his wake.”

“Suna.” A smack on the head and scolding from his girlfriend was well deserved but it was a bit concerning.

“Maybe we shouldn’t listen anymore.” This time Kita speaks up trying to give them some privacy despite her yells echoing through the small apartment. “We can’t exactly leave anymore. That went out the window when they first stormed in.”

“Please, baby you have to understand that I didn’t mean for this to happen. We were all at a bar drinking after our match and you weren’t able to make it because of your deadline. I was pouting in a corner when she came up to me. I never in a million years would have done this sober.”

“But you did it under the influence. You just said that I was the only one you were ever with which means in the back of your mind you thought about what it would be like if there was someone else out there. Better suited for you. I saw the way she looked at you and I warned you not to get too close to her because she was trying to worm her way in between us. You called me insecure.”

“I apologized for that. I didn’t mean that either.”

“Whatever. All that I know is that I was right cause look at where we’re at now. You couldn’t just be happy to be with me? You couldn’t just do what you’ve always done and walk past her when she would try to put on her innocent act?”

“I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Yes you did. Drunk minds are sober hearts.”

“That’s not true!”

“Then what else!? You want me to actually believe this was all just a simple mistake? It’s not, Miya, in fact it’s the one thing I told you I could never forgive you for. I could deal with a break up for a while so you could explore a bit. In fact I offered you that choice when you got recruited. YOU were the one that said you couldn’t ever see yourself with anyone else and that you were happy. Even if that changed along the way that would have been fine too! I gave you the way out to be honest with me. I could have handled that but I can’t handle this. You lying to me for some other bitch.”

“I didn’t lie to you for her, I lied so I didn’t hurt you!”

“You lying is what hurts me!” The tears were threatening to fall but Hiroko hides it by turning away and rubbing her face with both hands out of frustration. She needed to sit down before she got light headed from all the screaming. Settling down on the kitchen chairs her hands work their way back to comb through her brown mane of curls. “I’m sorry there has to be something I can do, baby.” Atsumu sat in the adjacent seat trying to get somewhere past the yelling but he didn’t think that would be possible anytime soon. Her honeyed brown eyes that he once loved to stare into were dark and uncaring. “Would you be able to forgive me if I slept with Kuroo?” That question knocked the wind out of him knowing that just months prior they had another screaming match of Atsumu ironically accusing Koko of cheating on him with Kuroo. “…yes.”

“Oh really? So you would be okay with me calling him up right now so we can make it even? You would be able to forgive me for jumping into bed with him and kissing him the way I kiss you. Touching him the way I touch you. Feeling each other in the same way we do. Our hot sweaty naked bodies tangled up after hours-“

“No! No, I’m not okay with that!” Atsumu covers his ears to stop his imagination from running wild but the image of her writhing underneath another man was etched in. “You have a hard time imagining a make believe situation that never happened. Do you really think it’s fair that I have to be stuck with imagining those same scenes every time I look at you. Even if I can get past this I’ll never be able to feel the same way when you touch me.” He wanted to deny the claims but he couldn’t promise that things would get better over time. All he wanted though was the chance to make it up to her one day.

“I can’t promise it’ll be easy. I can’t say that I could ever be okay with you cheating either…but I would still want to be with you because…it’s you. It’s always been me and you.” Atsumu could see her eyes soften at those words but the silence was deafening. Rather than say anything in return she opened the pizza box to reveal the vegetarian styled pie she always got whenever she was home alone. At first he wanted to complain but remembered that while she was quiet it didn’t mean she was calm about the situation. Instead he decided to pick off whatever pieces he could that he didn’t find appetizing.

The meal was unusually quiet for the pair for good reason. They were both used to bickering and laughing at one another’s silly jokes or stories. The silence was uncomfortable for both of them but were holding back at trying to fill that void between them.

In the room everyone was now either laying on the bed or laid out over a pile of pillows and plushies from Akane’s old bed. “You know…what happens if they can’t work it out?” Suna speaks up suddenly. The entire time it seemed like he was unbothered about the whole situation but like the others he worried about his friends. “They’ll get through this. I mean they have to, right? It’s always been Sumu and Koko.” Osamu tries to reason but in reality he was thinking the same thing.

“And what if they don’t?” Kaori wanted to be optimistic but she knew that if she were put in the same position she wouldn’t be able to forgive Suna. No matter how much she loved him and vice versa, it wouldn’t be enough to keep them together. It would be hard to hang out together like they always have in the past. It wasn’t like they would drift apart but now all their outings would have to be planned separately and without the other. Osamu was right, they’ve always been a pair practically glued to the hip but if things didn’t work themselves out it would be like missing two halves of a whole.

The couple ate the entire pizza together without much interaction. They were instead left to sit across from each other at the dining table. It was already dark outside now letting them know that they had been at this for hours now. Fighting about the same thing with no indication of a truce being formed. She was tired of the conversation going nowhere. In her mind there was nothing to fix any longer but he didn’t want to give up. His stubborn nature simultaneously annoyed and made her love him more but it was in these situations she wished he would give up already. Looking at his dark brown orbs staring deep into her own made her look away once again and get up from her seat to walk over to the sofa. Any other time he would be irritated from the constant back and forth but she was always an exception. Patiently he walked over to sit in the love seat next to her and waited for some words to form between them.

Time felt like it slowed down for the pair. No words could come to mind that could fix this. In her mind she couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make her so angry that they would get anywhere, or make her so sick to her stomach that tears would swell up in her ducts.

In his mind he tried to think back to why he ever got into bed with that woman. It wasn’t like she was prettier than his girlfriend. That was the very reason why he never once looked at another girl before. To him everyone paled in comparison to her. From the way she walked with so much confidence that people would mistake her for a model, to her long slender fingers that were manicured to fit her mood for the week, even her toned legs that he loves to squeeze whenever she wraps them around his waist, the way her curves dipped so heavenly, the love handles that she developed in her first couple of years in college that he loved to pinch because of the cute squeal that would slip out (the slap that would follow was worth it), her d cups that he thought were the perfect size for his large hands. All of that was good and attracted him to her but what never changed was the pretty face she had.

Ever since they were young he thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Brown eyes are the most common eye color but her eyes weren’t just brown to him. They were a honeyed color with flakes of gold that would shimmer in the sunlight. Pouty red lips that called out to him whenever he laid eyes on her. He still remembers their first kiss being an accident when he got too entranced. Those rosy cheeks that used to be rounded due to the baby fat had slimmed to a diamond shape over the years. Out of all her features his favorite had to be her hair. Her wild curly brown hair. It was the reason why he first approached her in the first place. He wasn’t used to seeing curly hair and as a kid he failed to have any boundaries when something interested him. It started with just staring then turned into tugging on it which led to him having worms stuck down his shirt when she had enough. That was another thing he loved about the girl; her strong personality. He could go on for hours and even days on every bit and piece of her. The way her hair was so soft and fluffy that he could use it as a pillow, her cute habits that he had adjusted himself around to accommodate her, how she would do the same for him, how well she cooks despite always being so busy with work and school to make sure he doesn’t cheat too much on his diet. She was everything to him for so long that he had such a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea that all of this would go away because of one night. One night with a woman that meant so little in his mind would ruin the rest of his life.

“Baby, please speak to me.” He tries again hoping to get a reply this time. He moves to sit in front of her on the coffee table. “I would never cheat on you if I were in the right state of mind. Was I jealous of Kuroo? Yes. So much that I was looking to argue all the time. But that was only because I saw the way you two worked together during your internship. You looked different with him next to you. You know I’m too proud to ever admit this but I was so beside myself in my own insecurity that I really thought you wanted to be with him more than me.”

Koko was surprised at the way her arrogant boyfriend laid out his deepest thoughts for her. Out of all the time they’ve known each other it was practically impossible for Atsumu to ever admit he had a flaw. His bold confidence bordered on narcissism at times. For him to admit this part out loud made her almost want to hear him out. “So what, it’s my fault?”

“No, it’s my own fault for not trusting you but I kept thinking back to your offer to break up all that time ago. It made me think that maybe you thought that way because you wanted that freedom.” He reached for her hands and felt at ease when she didn’t slap them away this time. “I made a mistake. I should have never gotten drunk enough but I swear to you that if I was sober I never would have slept with her. I’m so sorry that I hurt you and embarrassed you like this. I would take it back in a heartbeat if I could. I can’t imagine my life without you Koko. You’re all I’ve ever wanted since we were kids. I love you more than anything, even volleyball would come in second place. If I have to I’ll transfer to another team away from her so I’ll never be around her ever again. I’ll move across the world for you. I’ll quit if it comes down to it. Just please tell me we can fix this.”

Her heart turned to mush at his words. Never has he been a romantic. She even thought for some time and came to peace with the fact that volleyball would be his number one priority. Hearing him actually offer to give up everything he had worked for did make her feel cherished. The only thing about it was that it felt too late. When he leaned in to kiss her collar bone and work his way up to her lips she pushed him off and stood far enough away from him so he wouldn’t try it again. His touch felt dirty to her now knowing he had just spent the night with another woman. “Stop it Atsumu. You can’t make it better like that. Your kiss isn’t going to make me feel like I can forgive you. It doesn’t work like that!”

Atsumu on the other hand was heartbroken to see her react that way to his touch. Reminded about how she used to shiver and moan whenever he would kiss a certain spot on her cleavage. Her aversion to his touch now the complete opposite made him realize that she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter what he said or did. What truly shattered him though was the way her voice shook as she said, “I want you to go.”

“What?”

“I really think you should go now.” Her voice was abnormally quiet and for a second he wanted to believe that he heard wrong. Panic struck, making him scramble from his spot on the table to stand in front of her. “We made a promise to each other that we could get past anything in our way of being together. That was our promise to each other when we decided to make this long distance work. You remember that, right? It was right after graduation. I told you I could never live without you in my life and that hasn’t changed.”

“Things are different. I didn’t know back then that we would be here.”

“There has to be something we can do. Couples therapy. I’ll go everyday and spend every cent to my name just to make sure we can make it through this. I can’t imagine, I don’t want to imagine my life without you. Without…” His words began to waver as well, noticing the way her eyes seemed dimmer despite the tears starting to fall from her eyes. Tears of his own threatening to fall and made his throat feel like someone was constricting his pathway. “I can’t live without these arms wrapping around me every time I come home. Your pretty face, always popping in to visit me at the gym. Your heart.” His tears now flowed down his own cheeks as he got on to his knees in front of her to hug her waist so tight she could feel how desperate he was to keep her there.

She had never in the 18 years of knowing him seen him cry this way. He would shed some tears when Osamu got him good after a fight, or even after he finally won the inter high title. This was different though. His tears seemed to flow endlessly that it could fill a river. She wanted to forgive him and go back to the way things were but it would be impossible for now. “No. I just can’t. You’re a totally different person to me now. I used to look at you and think that you would never hurt me like this. I just can’t stop picturing you two together now.” She grips on to her own hair out of frustration when the images come to mind. Atsumu’s panic and anxiety allows her to let go when he sees her. “This one moment you can’t even remember changed everything for me. That article will always be online for everyone to see, she’ll always be there to remind me of what you did because I could never ask you to give up this team you’re on, and whenever I look at you that’s all I’ll ever see.”

Their sobs echoed through the small apartment. Their staggered breaths were the only thing that could be heard by their small group of friends that listened in on the conversation. Tears of their own from hearing the pain the once happy couple were in.

“This can’t be it.” Atsumu wanted this all to be a dream. Everything about this day ruined him and would never go away. He wanted to throw himself at her to beg even more but there was nothing that could be done.

“Then how come it is?” There was nothing now between them. One moment changed them for the rest of their lives.

He felt numb to the world. No words could be uttered. Nothing could fix his mistake and his anguish of losing the one person that mattered most to him was intensified and overwhelming. Like he was possessed, he walked away from her grabbing his jacket and keys on the way. Before he leaves he utters one last thing. “I’m sorry.”

Once the front door closes on his way out the sobs that she held in broke free. She lays down on the couch to let the pain in her heart out but it never ceases. It feels like her heart was physically mangled and would never return to its original form. Her sobs seem to keep coming up until she exhausts herself. Crying herself to sleep.

“Should we go out now? It sounds like he left, they're pretty quiet.” Akane asks the rest who all nod and get up from their spot on the bed.

Everyone but Akane and Kita walked out of the apartment to go back home. “Do you want to stay over?” Kaori asks her boyfriend. “Yeah, I’m too tired to walk.” She nods along before turning to look at Osamu who was on his phone most likely trying to get a hold of his brother. “How about you? Or are you going back to check on your brother?”

“Yeah, I need to make sure he doesn’t do something else stupid. He’s probably going to get into some trouble with the organization once it’s confirmed.” He rubs his brow in frustration thinking about it.

“Okay you guys. See you tomorrow.” Akane waves weakly to the group exiting the apartment while Kita covers Koko with a fluffy blanket. He didn’t want to disturb her by carrying her back to the room. Seeing how gentle he was being to her friend made her smile in appreciation before leading him back to their shared room. He wasn’t always here because of his rice farm but she considered her room his as well.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” She asks while laying in bed trying to get comfortable.

“I don’t know but we’ll have to be there for them when we can.” He settles in next to her, turning the side lamp off in the process. Cuddling her closer tonight after hearing the tense fight. He had never known Atsumu to be so open and vulnerable since he first met him. Even knowing how in love he was with her he couldn’t imagine him putting his pride aside for anyone because of his childlike attitude. Hearing his cries and begging showed Kita just how human he was despite his insistence he was invincible. Any other situation it would have been a breath of fresh air but tonight he pitied the man. Holding on to his own girlfriend a little tighter he promised himself he would never take her for granted.

[trashdorito]

Ok I'm hopping on the ship rating train so this goes out to @botwstoriesandsuch since its their fault.

10. I have Teba x Saki here cause they're really adorable and Saki has to deal with her husband being a chaotic dumbass

5/10

9. Here is my only Daruk ship which is Daruk x him being aroace. Why? Oh because I said so.

6/10 no I am not projecting shut up

8. Revali x Mipha comes next cause HWAOC maked me like them. Revali beings caring and soft to her makes my heart melt

7/10

7. Did I fall in love with yiga husbands? Absolutely. I'm pretty sure Kohga fell in love the moment he saw Sooga with his huge ass swords that are definitely taller than him. Sooga didn't realize he fell in love until his dying breath, hoping Kohga got away safely

7/10 oops I'm sad now :-)

6. So here I got Zelda x Impa cause I really think they would be cute, since the game shows that Impa puts a lot of effort into caring for zelda. Zelda would also fall for the badass ninja.

7/10

5. Now we got Zelpha because I love them. Have you seen the way Mipha spins on her trident like a badass? Zelda sure has and she panicking. Did yall see Zelda destroy the fucking Calamity (after link fuckin jumped up 30ft to slice the fucker in half)? Mipha sure as hell did and she's having her bisexual awakening so she double panicking

8/10

4. Here i have platonic Robbie x Purah cause they're chaotic gay scientists who tease Impa for being their token straight friend (even though she gay for zel)

8/10

3. The only one Urbosa can be shipped with is the Queen of Hyrule. I personally think the queen and the fucker king rhoam were in an arranged marriage and the queen and Urbosa got married at Gerudo Town. The two talk shit about the King a lot (since they're married) so when the queen died of illness Urbosa 100% thinks Rhoam had her assassinated and absolutely wants to kill him but she has no proof.

9/10

2. One of my favorites: King Rhoam x Me hunting him for sport. Need I continue?

16/10 each extra point is for everyone who would hunt him with me. Points will always vary but will never drop below this number.

1. A surprise to no one: Revalink. Yes I love them. Enemies to lovers? Yes. The banter? I'd die. The puns? Abso-fucking-lutely. And I'm totally not projecting onto either of them why would anyone think that definitely not.

10/10

[365days365movies]

Historical July IV: Pompeii (2014) - Part I

...Really? This guy made a historical epic?

The Mortal Kombat director? The Monster Hunter director? The director of the first six Resident Evil films? Yeah, THOSE. The director of Death Race 2000? He made a history movie? And it was about one of the greatest natural disasters ever recorded? Oh boy, I cannot WAIT to see how this goes. OK, so what exactly is the big deal about Pompeii. To understand that...take a jump to the left.

There’s a reason that so many of these films are centered around the Roman Empire; it was kind of a big fuckin’ deal. And by the time we get to 79 AD...a lot of shit had happened. Jesus Christ was executed around 30 or 33 AD, and his new followers, called Christians, were not exactly permitted in Rome. A dude named Paul the Apostle goes on missionary journeys to spread Christianity. Even writes a few chapters in a book about the guy, which he adds onto the Jewish scripture as a sort of New Testament. Not that any of that’s gonna go anywhere, but good on him for the initiative.

On the throne, Tiberius has died, only to be replaced by his nephew, Caligula. And Caligula...was kind of a lot.

It’s not entirely known how many of the stories about him are true, but some of them are...controversially sexual. Dude was said to be a sexual sadist who through lavish expositions of debauchery, and some sources list him as being insane. But again, some of that is hearsay. We do know that he improved Roman infrastructure, and that he increased the power of the emperor for succeeding generations. And possibly quite harshly. In any case, in 41 AD, a few senators got pissed off enough by him, and pulled a Cassius/Brutus/Gretchen Weiner and assassinated the SHIT out of him.

Meanwhile, surprise! Things aren’t going great for the Jews. Yeah, history has NOT been kind to them, and around 41 AD, the new emperor of Rome, Claudius, decides to give them the boot and expels them from Rome...for the third time. Yeah, like I said, not a good history for them. To be fair, some of this is hearsay, but there’s no real reason to doubt its veracity. As they were forced out, Claudius focused his interests on Britain, and began to conquer the territories of the Celts. He dies in 54 BC, and is succeeded by...

Oh, shit. This is Nero, the last of the first line of Roman emperors, and one of the worst that they’d ever seen. On the bright side, dude was huge into the cultural life of the Empire, as well as diplomacy and trade. He was an actor, a poet, and a charioteer. On the downside...dude was an absolute asshole. Allegedly. Yeah, it’s hearsay time again. He was insanely popular with Rome’s public, but so many historians list him as an awful tyrant. The most well-known of these tyrannical acts involved the Christians, who were building in size as a group in Rome. Which was, unsurprisingly, not liked by the Senate.

In Brittania, Nero’s armies led a successful conquest of the territory, resulting in the death of the Celt Queen Boudicca in 61. And that is...another story for another day. A good one, though. But all of that took a side to one of the biggest tragedies Rome had ever seen: the Great Fire of 64 AD. It raged for nine days, and destroyed 2/3 of Rome. Which is...a lot. Nero allegedly blamed the Christians, but conspiracies mounted that he had ordered the fire to make room for construction of a palatial complex. But that is, well...hearsay. That hearsay began persecutions of the Christians in Rome, leading to that whole “feed them to the lions” thing, eventually. Meanwhile, in a small colony in Campania, near to the city of Naples..

A massive earthquake hits in 62 AD, destroying much of a tourist town called Pompeii. Nothing else bad will happen to them. They’re rebuilding while Rome is doing the same, and Nero even visits the city in 64 AD, as well as performs in their famous theatre. See, Pompeii was basically a cultural town, and their theater and amphitheater were famous. They would rebuild pretty steadily over the next decade or so, with what funding they could get from Rome or the private sector.

In 68, Nero commits suicide (sort of) after being condemned by the Senate (who hated him, of course) as a public enemy. So ends the first Dynasty. So, uh...who’s the new emperor? Since there’s no declared heir, it’s time to figure out who’s gonna rule. And since it’s Rome...WAR TIIIIIIIIIIME!

Yup. The Year of the Four Emperors kicks off in 68 AD. First, Galba takes over, and fucks over EVERYBODY, including the military and the elite unit, the Praetorian Guard. Said guard kills the shit out of him. The same day, Otho is declared emperor, and he’s gonna be...oh, wait, I’ve received word that the legions in Germania support Vitellus as Emperor, and they’re a fucking really good army! Surely word of this will not aaaaaaand Otho has committed suicide, GREAT. 

Looks like Vitellus is emperor! Parades! Banquets! Expensive food that immediately creates debt! Looks like we need money, so let’s make people call Vitellus the rightful heir to their goods and fortune, and then KILL THE SHIT OUT OF ‘EM! That’s not gonna bite us squarely in the rotund ass at all! At least we have the entire army on our side, right? What? Fuckin’ Vespasian commands the African and Judean legions, and they’re declaring him emperor? And they���re marching on Vitellus right now, as he’s desperately trying to bribe his way out of this? Well, maybe it’ll aaaaaaand dead. With that, the year is over, and Vespasian is now Emperor of Rome for the next 10 years. God.

So, Vespasian is now the Emperor, and the next few years aren’t abysmal for Rome. They expand in Britain, he reforms the financial system, and he builds the Colosseum. Dude brings Rome back to stability, beginning the Flavian Dynasty, then dies in 79 AD. His son, Titus Vespasianus, ascends in 79 AD. Dude was a legendary general, crushing the first major Jewish rebellion in 69 (geez, guys, sorry history’s been absolute garbage to you), and then taking and destroying Jerusalem. He completed the Colosseum as well, as would be known as a good ruler in the end. But rulers are only judged by their response to adversity. And adversity...thy name is Vesuvius.

August 25, 75 AD. After bubbling and brewing for a long time, the volcano known as Mount Vesuvius blows its top, and molten rock and ash explode from that top violently. We’re talking a force 100,000 times more powerful than fucking Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Yeah. Holy fucking shit. The eruption was large enough to cover miles of land in pyroclastic flows, flash burning and killing every living thing in its path. These flows buried the settlement of Pompeii. And. Herculaneum. And Oplontis. Oh, and Stabiae. YEAH. FOUR FUCKING TOWNS.

Did you know that shit, because I DIDN’T. The reason we know Pompeii so well is because it was actually most fully recovered. So was Herculaneum, but Herculaneum was much smaller, and didn’t have the whole body imprint thing attached to it. But it’s still a worthy site that deserves to be talked about more. Will this movie do so?

Of course it won’t. Come on.

I want to talk about Pompeii and Vesuvius...but later, LATER! Let’s get into this literal garbage fire of a film, shall we? Can’t wait to see what film mountebank Paul W.S. Anderson has done with this epic historical event. Whoof. If you want to learn more about the day itself, watch @wearewatcher​ Puppet History’s account of it. More entertaining than I am, I guarantee it.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Interestingly, we start with the words of Pliny the Younger, who wrote a famous account of the events of the fateful day. I’ll mention him and his famous uncle more next time, I think. They are, and I quote:

We had scarcely sat down to rest when darkness fell, not the dark of a moonless or cloudy night, but as if the lamp had been put out in a clsoed room. You could hear the shrieks of women, the wailing of infants, and the shouting of men; some were calling their parents, others their children or their wives, trying to recognize them by their voices. People bewailed their own fate or that of their relatives, and there were some who prayed for death in their terror of dying. Many besought the aid of the gods, but still more imagined there were no gods left, and that the universe was plunged into eternal darkness for evermore.

Um...wow. Damn. Holy shit, that’s fucking terrifying. I mean, I already knew this, but retyping it now...FUCK. And also, the movie misquotes this. Technically, it’s a different translation and some paraphrasing, but it’s not the exact quote. But OK, the movie opens with that butchered quote over the famous petrified bodies of Pompeii. And I’ll hand it to them, it’s pretty impressive looking.

And then, we cut to Brttania in 62 AD. Huh. OK? Far as I know, the battle pictured of the northern Celtic horsemen never actually happened, but it’s not outside the realm of possibility. After all, famous Celt queen Boudicca had just died the year before, attempting to fight against the Roman Empire. So, yeah, this isn’t crazy. The Celts are slain by Romans, led by the general Quintus Attius Corvus (Keifer Sutherland), and their bodies are piled up, while others are...hung from a tree, which doesn’t seem like a Roman thing to do. I guess it’s technically gibbetting, but I thought the Celts did that to the Romans, not the other way around!

But OK, let’s not split hairs. I’ll be here all day if I do. A child escapes from the massacre, and flees into the woods. His mother was killed in front of him by Corvus, and his father was ne of the guys in the tree. Eventually, he’s caught by slave traders, and...Conan the Barbarian, is that you?

Yeah, this is just the story of Conan the Barbarian! What’re you gonna do, strap him to a wheel for seventeen years?

So, 17 years pass...and we cut to Londinium. In a gladiator pit with terrible lighting, we meet a manager of gladiators, Graecus (Joe Pingue), who’s being all Roman and shit. You know, being fat, eating grapes, so on and so forth. He’s all annoyed at being brought out here in the poorly lit rain to watch a gladiator fight, especially because the gladiators kinda suck. And that’s when...the Celt comes in.

Oh my God, I already hate this fucking movie. It’s just so...stereotypically late-2000s. It’s like Paul W.S. Anderson went to Frank Miller, whom I picture as living in that fetish house from 300, and said to him, “Teach me your unsubtly homoerotic ways!” And then Frank Miller talked about women and Muslim people in a misogynistic and racist way for, like, three hours, until eventually just lending Anderson a copy of 300. 

Anyway, yeah, this is Milo (Kit Harrington), AKA the Celt. He’s just the best gladiator that ever gladiated, and they decide to take him out of there to see how well he does in more professional circles. He’s put on a procession to Pompeii, and meets a woman in-they’re gonna fuck.

Look...they’re gonna be the main couple of the film. Duh. FUCKING DUH. THIS IS JUST PEARL HARBOR IN ANCIENT ROME. Anyway, this Inevitable Love Interest is Cassia (Emily Browning), attended to by her assistant, Ariadne (Jessica Lucas). Their horse was injured on the way to Pompeii, but Milo offers to help it. And he does so by...breaking the horse’s neck.

And I get it, he’s putting it out of its mercy, that’s entirely fine in this circumstance, but...he breaks it as easily as I blow my fucking nose! Like...like picking up a child’s napkin from a fucking table at a birthday party, IT WOULD NOT BE THAT FUCKING EASY! So...yeah, that’s incredibly stupid, and the tone is set for this movie. And of course, Cassia comes away from it like, “Ooh, that silent horse-killing gladiator slave man is, like SUPER-FUCKING-HOT, amirite?” God, this is gonna piss me off.

Cassia, it turns out, is from Pompeii, and her father Severus (Jared Harris) is the city governor, while her mother, Aurelia (Carrie-Anne Moss)...has the worst British accent I’ve ever heard, holy SHIT, Carrie-Anne. I liked you in The Matrix, and I fucking LOVED you in the first season of Jessica Jones, but GODDAMN are you absolutely terrible in this movie so far. But yeah, Cassia’s the rich girl who’s life is perfect and has horses and yaaaaaaaay

Meanwhile, Milo’s dealing with administrative issues, as his fellow gladiators start a fight in the cafeteria. This catches the interest of fellow gladiator Atticus (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje), the black best friend of the movie, probably. Which is also very Gladiator, now that I think about it. Have I mentioned that I fucking really hate this movie so far?

Anyway, one of Cassia’s servants (who is black, because this movie is very awkward in a lot of ways) takes out her horse for a run that night, only for him to die by upcoming plot device. The next morning, Milo meets Atticus, says that he’ll have to kill him one day, gets saved from death by one of the assholes from the cafeteria, then says that he won’t kill Atticus, and I hate this movie.

Meanwhile, Corvus arrives in town, BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DOES, and I now have to wonder...was Pompeii anywhere near this major of a town to warrant this much fucking attention? Well, after looking into it...I mean, kinda. Naples isn’t too far away, so I feel like that would’ve gotten more attention. But anyway, Corvus is invited into the home of Severus to discuss their grand plans for Pompeii, whatever those’ll be.

Cassia’s not extraordinarily happy about that, because she dislikes the corrupt new emperor, Titus Vespasian, who...who is one of the most generous and greatest emperors that Rome ever had...period. I...but...we...WHY? WHY ARE WE PAINTING THIS GUY AS AN ASSHOLE, THEN? Just to paint Cassia as a morally-perfect being whom all the edge Celtic gladiators can fall in love with I FUCKING HATETHISSTUPIDSHIT

...OK, maybe I’m overexaggerating here. Fresh eyes, fresh mind, let’s get back into it. After Cassia’s horse returns without his keeper, we switch back to the prison, where said edgy Celt is being all edgy about the whole gladiator thing again. Meanwhile, Atticus is the wide-eyed optimist, believing that he will be freed once he defeats Milo and wins the day. Also, he has a really bad-looking scar. Like, picture a scar with stitches. The most stereotypical scar you’ve ever seen. Yeah. That’s on Atticus’ cheek.

The gladiators are marched into the palace, because this film doesn’t really understand the difference between normal gladiators and normal slaves in terms of treatment. But it’s there that he sees one of the guys present at the destruction of his village, because of course he does. We also learn that the gladiators are treated not only as slaves, but as prostitutes...which DID NOT fucking happen. There is NO PROOF that this happened, and I feel like that would be a risk that managers wouldn’t want to take for various reasons.

Cassia might be wishing that was the case, though, because she catches Milo’s eye at the party. But she’s soon led away to be introduced to Corvus, who she already apparently...oh, goddamnit. It’s also this story? Corvus is gonna wanna fuck her, huh? I just...this movie is a living, breathing stereotype of a film.

But just then, Cassia’s horse starts freaking out SO FUCKING HARD that she excuses herself from Corvus’ advances. And yeah, he does wanna marry her, and has wanted to since she met him in Rome and said no. Anyway, she gets the best horse killer she knows, Milo, and has him tame her horse’s wild nature. And despite having no proof that this’ll work (or that he won’t kill this horse just like the other one, which would be hilarious), it does indeed work.

Cassia goes in, and they share their mutual hatred of Rome together. They also get on the horse together, and burst out of the stable to ride off into the sunset. I...just...this would not only have SO MANY TERRIBLE RAMIFICATIONS, but would also be insanely unlikely due to class structure at the time. This is just...so dumb.

OK, so let’s fast-forward this bullshit, huh? They get caught, Cassia asks Corvus to spare his life, and he agrees to do so if she agrees to fuuuuuuuuck’im, and she does. Corvus makes sure he’s whipped, and then arranges it so that Milo fights first the next day, and ideally dies first. Back in her quarters, Cassia pines for Milo, and back in his quarters, Milo gets wine dumped on his back to heal his terrible looking whip-wounds. 

And as Milo and Atticus share their hatred for the Romans, the earth shakes beneath their feet, which Atticus states is a sign from the gods. And given what’s about to happen...yeah, could be. The next day, the quakes continue as the arrangements are make for Milo to die, hopefully.

God. I need a break. 

Imma rewatch that Puppet History video really quick. See you in Part II, I guess.

[novelconcepts]

Not sure if it’s Drabble worthy. What if Peter and Rebecca don’t die and therefore Bly doesn’t need a new Au Pair. Do Jamie and Dani still meet somehow?

There is a woman in the pub. Not, strictly speaking, an oddity--there are people here every night upon Jamie’s return from the manor. People with drinks and conversation, taking up space she doesn’t have the energy to deal with. 

This woman, though. This woman is strange simply because she isn’t. Because there is a look about her, too normal, too put-together. Because her eyes are too bright, and her hair too shiny, and she is--most important of all--not of Bly.

Not Jamie’s problem, either, she thinks, pushing past the woman’s table with little more than a glance.

Blue eyes, she registers. Blue eyes, catching hers for a bare moment. 

Jamie keeps walking.

***

The woman is back again. Still looking a bit too clean, a bit too bright to be allowed in a smudgy place like this. She’s seated at that same table, nursing a drink with her eyes on a book, and she is...

Just a woman, thinks Jamie, whose day has been marked by Miles’ attitude and Flora’s perfectly splendid’s, and whose head is in all honesty ringing just a bit more than she can stand. 

She could use a drink tonight. Could use a bit more than a drink, really--could use a long rest, a long break from memories of Peter fucking Quint moving about the house like he owns the place. Tonight, she’ll settle for the drink. It’s cheaper than therapy, easier than talking to Hannah or Owen about the whole business. Certainly easier than cornering Rebecca, pressing her toward sense.

Problem is, there is a woman in the pub. 

At her table.

She drinks at the bar instead and finds her eyes searching out that woman’s face in the mirror. Finds herself coming back time and time again to the curve of the woman’s cheek, the angle of her nose, the way she bites the edge of her thumbnail as she turns the page. 

Her eyes never raise, never seek Jamie’s in return, though Jamie is certain--judging by the insistent tap of one boot under the table, the fidgety quality of her fingers around her glass--she knows she is being watched. 

***

The woman, she supposes, has nowhere else to be. What must that be like? What cart must have overturned, tipping her onto the pavement of Bly, to this pub, to this dark corner of the world? 

Jamie can remember all too well what it feels like to have nowhere to be. To just stumble into whatever place will hold a person up. This woman, with her tailored blouse and her hoop earrings, doesn’t much look like Jamie had, living that sort of life. But what does Jamie know?

Blue eyes. Shiny hair. Very little else.

Jamie has taken in a drink every night this week, less for the value of the alcohol, more out of curiosity. Could the woman really be here each time she walks through the door? Could this same woman always set up shop at her table, alone, peaceably making her way through a battered paperback?

So far, survey says yes. 

And the week has been long, it’s true: Rebecca, growing agitated as tensions between Peter and the rest of them wind ever-higher. Last night, Hannah had gripped her steak knife as though considering plunging it into Peter’s thigh. Tonight, it had taken every ounce of Jamie not to take a swing with the expensive wine bottle he had produced from thin air. 

Deserve better, chick, she’d thought as Rebecca had soothed Peter’s glower with a kiss. You have to see that. 

Rebecca, predictably, does not. 

Jamie, sitting here with yet another drink, watching the strange woman at her table in the mirror, isn’t sure who she is to talk. 

***

Someone is trying to talk to the woman tonight. Someone--a bulky man in his mid-thirties who Jamie has already marked as endless trouble--is trying to take a seat at the woman’s table.

Jamie watches with hackles raised, glass poised at her lips, waiting. The woman looks like the sort to make polite conversation, to smile warmly, to find herself in a bad situation before she realizes. Not that it’s any of Jamie’s concern. Not that Jamie ought to be making noise in the pub above which she sleeps. 

The man is leaning across the table, his huge hand reaching for the woman’s book. His grin is sloppy, his eyes ale-muddled, and when he moves toward the woman’s hand, she recoils. Glances toward the bar. 

Glances directly at Jamie. 

Hell, thinks Jamie tiredly, because this isn’t the way. This is never effective, never wise. Keep to yourself, keep your bloody head to your own bloody business, that’s the trick. 

The woman’s eyes are so goddamned blue. 

“Saved me a seat, I see,” Jamie hears herself say, cocking her hip against the man’s chair with a fuck out of it smile. He squints up at her, clearly trying to piece together some bleary vestige of memory. 

“You’re,” he slurs, “upstairs.”

“Seem to be down among the locals tonight,” Jamie says cheerfully, and gives him a single jerk of the head in warning. He frowns, pushing himself clumsily to his feet. 

“Borin’ conversation anyway.”

Jamie watches him go, raises her glass to her lips, smiles when he shoots a dark look over his shoulder. She does not look at the woman, not until she hears a soft voice say, “Thank you.”

American, realizes Jamie. 

Mistake, realizes Jamie.

“Hang a jacket over the seat next time,” she suggests on her way back to the bar. “Dissuades the stupider ones.”

***

The woman buys her a drink. 

She seems, Jamie notes with some alarm, to have registered Jamie’s schedule. How Jamie seems to walk in around eight every evening, her shoulders tense with a day’s battles still hanging tight. How Jamie has long given up trying for her usual table, sacrificing it in the name of pretty blonde Americans. 

There is a drink waiting for her--her usual, though in a place like this, it isn’t hard to guess. 

“That one,” the bartender--tonight, a fiftyish woman with a smirk--says, and points exactly where Jamie expects. She glances over, finds the American with her own glass raised. Eyebrows arched. Head gesturing for Jamie to come on over.

Mistake, she thinks again, even as she’s obeying.

“Wanted to thank you again,” the woman says, as Jamie hovers beside the second chair. There is, she notes, a denim jacket tossed over its back.

“Not a problem.”

“Sit?” the woman suggests, and Jamie finds she can’t locate a reason not to. She settles awkwardly, trying not to dislodge the jacket, all-too aware of the filthy floor beneath her boots. 

“Really don’t think,” she begins, but the woman is saying something. She blinks. “Sorry?”

“Dani,” the woman says again, touching a hand to her chest. “Dani Clayton.”

It’s a bad idea, Jamie thinks distantly, because the woman is so goddamned pretty, it hurts. She’s pretty, and she’s smiling, and there’s something about her eyes that makes Jamie’s pulse do tricks she hasn’t entertained in years. 

“Jamie,” she replies, and allows the woman to clink a half-finished glass against her own. 

***

Dani, as it turns out, actually works here. 

“Just started,” she says, almost sheepishly, when Jamie makes blustery noises of surprise. “On the early shift. Just to have something to keep me busy, until I figure something else out.”

She’s in England, she says, on a sort of personal retreat. A finding myself sort of adventure, she adds with a laugh that rings in Jamie’s ears like the best kind of music. 

“Better places to do it in,” Jamie points out, “than a hole in Bly.”

Dani shrugs. “I like it. The people are nice, mostly. And it’s quiet.”

“Home wasn’t quiet?”

Dani doesn’t answer. Dani doesn’t seem to like to talk about herself all that much, Jamie is noticing. She likes, instead, to talk about the town--the strangers, the clients, the newness of it all. She’ll talk about the beer, about the book resting at her elbow, about the weather. Most of all, she asks after Jamie.

“Not much to tell,” Jamie says--a lie, if you go back far enough, but honest enough for now. “Groundskeeper, over at the big house down the way.”

“What does that entail?” Dani, unlike most, actually sounds interested. She is the oddest bird, Jamie thinks, and is startled to find a sense of light affection behind the notion. 

“Gardening, mostly. Keep up the grounds, like I said--minor repairs about the house, too. Make sure everything keeps moving.”

“You like it?”

“Love it,” Jamie says honestly. Dani smiles. 

“That’s what I want. Something I really love. Thought for a while it would be teaching, but...”

“Kids,” Jamie says. “Take a lot out of a person. That why you’re here?”

Dani thinks on it, seems to step right up to the edge of a reply before changing her mind. “Couldn’t be at home anymore,” she says instead. It’s a non-answer, Jamie recognizes. A too much truth answer. 

“Fair enough,” Jamie tells her, and doesn’t push.

***

“So--he lives there?” Dani is three drinks in to Jamie’s two, her hair falling across her forehead as she tries to piece it all together. Jamie shakes her head. 

“Nah, not most days. Hannah, she lives there--full-time, I mean. And Rebecca, she moved in couple of months back. Kids love her. Quint, though, he’s...” She can’t find a nice way to put it. Isn’t sure why she’s even bothering. “A cockroach. Hard to kill, harder yet to wish away.”

“Sound like you’ve tried,” Dani says with a faint smile. Jamie shrugs.

“Waste of everyone’s time. He’s Henry’s fuckin’ lapdog. Long as he’s pulling at the leash, we all just need to make do.”

Dani mulls this over with the interest of someone who has not a single face to put with any of these names. “Rebecca really likes him, huh?”

“Likes him. Stuck into him. Not much of a difference.” Jamie leans back, pouring the remainder of her drink into a single swallow. The idea of it, of Peter’s hands on Rebecca’s waist at dinner, still makes her stomach sour. “You ever just--you ever meet someone who is like a human pair of handcuffs?”

Something flickers in Dani’s eyes. She nods once. Jamie sighs.

“That’s Quint. Fucker never met a woman he didn’t try to win--and I do mean win. Like a prize. Like women are little more than trophies to be locked behind glass.”

She watches Dani rub absently against her lips with the back of one hand, unable to tear her eyes away until Dani says, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like,” Jamie begins, trying to find the best way to explain, “like he thinks she’s property, right? Like he thinks any choice she makes without his say-so is a fucking--”

“Not that,” Dani says quietly. “I mean I don’t understand how people can do that. To each other. When they say they love--I mean. It’s the wrong way around, isn’t it? Trying to own someone out of love? You can’t do it. That’s...they’re not...”

“They’re opposites,” Jamie finishes. Blue eyes skip up, hold hers, don’t so much as waver. Dani’s lips turn up at the corners, her head giving a single nod. 

“Yeah. Exactly. How do people mix that up?”

“No idea,” Jamie says, and swallows against the clamor of her own heart.

***

Peter tried to pick a fight this afternoon, out among the roses. Would have succeeded, Jamie thinks with no small amount of shame, had Miles not been lurking just behind him, watching everything.

She is vibrating when she reaches the pub, every motion just a little more exaggerated than she likes. She slams down into her usual seat, hands clenched into fists against the table. 

“Bad day?” Dani asks, sliding a plate toward her. Half a sandwich, carefully set aside as if for Jamie all along. 

“Not great,” Jamie agrees. She softens, looking Dani over, reading the tension behind her smile. “Look like you can say the same.”

Dani glances over her shoulder, eyes finding the mirror behind the bar and darting jerkily away again. “Hard to explain,” she says. 

“Do you want to?” Jamie asks. Dani’s eyes land on her with all the abrasive surprise of an explosion. Jamie taps light knuckles against the tabletop. “Just sayin’. If you want to get it off your chest--”

Dani shakes her head. “It’s...really hard to explain,” she says, almost apologetic. “It--it makes me sound...kinda crazy.”

Jamie has never met someone who looks less crazy. Someone who holds herself with such steadiness, though her hands are twitchy and her smile doesn’t always reach her eyes. 

“If you want,” she says, knowing she will, in a moment, let the moment slide. “I don’t mind.”

There’s silence between them, a great comfortable swell of it that shouldn’t exist in a small pub, on a night like this, between two women who barely know one another. Jamie lets it ride, taking a bite of sandwich, watching Dani read her expression with tentative interest.

“I had a fiancé,” Dani says at last, and Jamie feels something in her stomach turn over. And then a second time, when Dani adds, “He died.”

“Dani. I’m so--”

“He died,” Dani says, staring grimly ahead as though trying with everything in her power not to glance toward the mirror again, “and I had just--I had just told him I couldn’t--”

She hesitates, pressing her face into her palms. When she lifts her head, her eyes are blazing. 

“I’d just broken--up with him. Broken the engagement, broken the whole--because he wasn’t what I--and then he died. And sometimes, I...I...”

Jamie waits. Dani sucks in a ragged breath.

“I see him. Sometimes. In mirrors, mostly. In--and it’s insane, I know, but I can’t stop.”

“S’why you came here?” Jamie guesses. Dani nods. 

“Crazy, right?”

Jamie shakes her head slowly. She’s not much for ghost stories, for fairytales, for dreams made flesh. Loss, though? Grief? Missing who a person was, who they could be? Those aren’t the marks of a crazy person. Those are just...

“Sounds like a rough time,” she says, and lets herself reach across the table. Dani’s hand is soft beneath her own, and she is suddenly too aware of her own callouses, of the skid against Dani’s skin when she turns her hand over and squeezes Jamie’s fingers in return. 

“Thank you,” she says softly, and looks once more toward the mirror. Jamie watches her: the tension in her brow, the way her eyes seem to narrow. “I think I...needed to tell someone. Finally.”

She’s still holding Jamie’s hand, even as she turns the subject to the day’s customers, to Jamie’s plans for tomorrow. She’s still holding Jamie’s hand, and doesn’t even seem to notice.

***

There is a fight, but it isn’t Jamie who starts it. Isn’t Jamie who finishes it, even. 

Jamie is only stupid enough to step in the middle. 

“Your eye,” Dani says in greeting, standing briskly up from the table. Jamie, who is aware she is no longer bleeding, aware that the glass thrown could have done significantly more damage on a less-fortunate occasion, waves her off. 

“Bit, ah. Messy at the house tonight.”

Bit messy is a gentle way of putting it. In truth, it had been a horrorshow: Hannah already furious with Peter for having barricaded Rebecca in the bedroom all afternoon, Peter furious with Owen for having enlisted Rebecca’s help with dinner, Rebecca wound tight with the rising pressure of a situation primed to go bad for days. When the glass had been thrown--by Peter or by Rebecca, Jamie still can’t say; she suspects it had really slipped from a gesticulating hand, regardless, given momentum by a moment of frustration more than genuine violence--it had been the bomb they’d all been waiting for.

Rebecca had stormed off to her room. Peter, out of the house. Hannah had collected the kids, both of whom were sobbing, and Jamie had pushed Owen’s helpful hand away and cleaned her own wound. 

“Theater,” she says now, aware of Dani’s eyes on her, of the abject concern in Dani’s face. “S’all it was.”

“Not good for the kids,” Dani says quietly. Jamie sighs.

“None of this is good for ‘em. Miles, he keeps...picking up shifty habits from Quint, and Flora’s enamored with the whole rotten mess. Thinks it’s romantic.” Jamie shakes her head, winces when her head rings back in answer. “Like there’s anything fuckin’ romantic about the way he talks to her.”

Dani is quiet a moment. She reaches across the table, presses her fingertips very gently to the place along Jamie’s brow where the glass had landed. 

“Lucky it didn’t break,” Jamie murmurs, almost unaware of leaning into Dani’s hand. “Shouldn’t have gotten in the...”

Dani is gazing at her with eyes too blue, an expression too meaningful. Jamie reaches up, closes her own fingers around the hand gingerly exploring her brow. 

“I’m okay,” she says. “Really.”

Dani seems not to believe her. Dani, whose palm slides across her own, thumb working a swipe along Jamie’s skin. 

“Do you,” she begins. Clears her throat. Tries again. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

Dani nods.

***

She leads Dani upstairs, and even as she’s unlocking the door, she thinks, Mistake? This is, she knows, the kind of thing a person can’t take back. The kind of give that can’t be explained away. 

Dani has not stopped looking at her since leaving the pub. Dani has not let go of her hand. 

Dani, she is sure, feels it, too. 

She’s aware of all the bits of the flat that feel wrong when set alongside Dani Clayton: last week’s shirt tossed over the back of the sofa, last night’s cup on the counter, last month’s dust painting the bookshelf. All the little merits of a life lived alone, she thinks. If she’d known--if she’d planned--it would look different.

Not much different, maybe, but enough.

Dani is looking around with an expression Jamie can’t read. It isn’t unease, or polite interest, or even amusement; it is, Jamie thinks, genuine awe. It is, Jamie thinks, a hunger to belong. 

She’d fit in, she catches herself thinking, watching Dani walk slowly around the flat with the faintest smile at her lips. In that house, with the rest, maybe better than I do. She’d fit right in.

“This is yours?” Dani asks, not gesturing at any one thing in particular, and Jamie nods slowly. 

“Serves its purpose.”

“I’ve never had this,” Dani says. Her eyes linger on Jamie’s face, and she adds hastily, “A place of my own. It seems...quiet.”

“It is,” Jamie says, and wonders if there isn’t more to it. If I’ve never had this is reaching for more than four walls and a bed Dani wouldn’t have to share. 

***

They don’t really talk about it, as Jamie’s flat commandeers the pub’s place in line altogether. Sometimes, Jamie even finds Dani seated on her steps, book propped upon on her knees, waiting patiently to be discovered. It never feels like expectation, Jamie notes with feelings too big to look at for long. It only ever feels like Dani, warm smile and easy hand accepting Jamie’s for balance, has belonged here all along.

“D’you ever just,” Jamie begins, cutting herself off before the rest of the words can spill out. Dani, curled on the sofa with a blanket half-tucked around her, furrows her brow. 

“What?”

“Feel like someone was always there,” Jamie finishes after a moment’s deliberation. It’s too much, probably, but she walked in on Peter and Rebecca screaming at one another again, and Flora spent the whole day in a sulk, and Hannah’s got a weariness around her eyes Jamie doesn’t like. Maybe it’s just a day for too much. 

Dani doesn’t seem to think it’s too much. Dani is nodding.

“Like you don’t even have to introduce yourself, really, because you remember them from another life. Yes. Yes, I’ve...felt that.”

It’s romantic rubbish, Jamie wants to say, something out of one of Flora’s story-time adventures, but the words seem to settle along her skeleton like she needs them. Like they’re offering some kind of strength she didn’t realize she was lacking. 

Dani is gazing at her, her expression fixed and unblinking in a manner that should be off-putting, and Jamie finds herself pulled irresistibly in. Finds herself leaning across the sofa, her thigh pressing to Dani’s, twisting at the waist to face her head-on.

“I’ve never,” Dani says softly, though her head is inclining, her lashes fluttering against her cheek. 

“Don’t have to,” Jamie replies, though her blood is singing, her fingers itching to delve into thick blonde hair. 

“But we could...” Dani is an inch away, and Jamie wants nothing more than to close the gap. Wants to take something for herself, for once, something soft and warm and easier than it ought to be. 

She hesitates. Flexes her hands against her own knees, resisting the urge to grab for Dani’s shirt. 

“Dani, I don’t want to--”

Dani is leaning back, nodding feverishly. “Right. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry--”

“No, listen.” She allows herself this, one hand reaching for Dani’s fingers, unfolding the instinctive fist she’s made. “I'm not...people don’t make sense to me. Understand?”

Dani shakes her head, puzzlement spreading over her impending humiliation. Jamie closes her eyes. 

“There’s a lot to it, and if...if you want to hear it all sometime, I’ll...but for now, just know that people are hard for me. Exhaustive. Complicated. They ask too much and they return too little.”

“Even me?” Dani asks, eyes shining, and Jamie smiles grimly. 

“Even you. Even me. Everyone, understand? But sometimes I still want...”

Dani waits. Dani, who never hurries Jamie anywhere. Who never tries to argue Jamie into a corner, or tells Jamie she needs to be kinder, or sneers for Jamie to get out of her way. Dani, who only sits on Jamie’s sofa, watching Jamie with an intensity no one else seems to possess. 

“If you do,” Jamie says, almost helplessly, letting one hand brace beneath Dani’s elbow. “I want--”

***

Some people--some women--kiss to escape. To flee from their lives, to hide inside Jamie’s hands and lips and fleeting desire. Some women kiss to build up armor: to convince themselves they really are brave enough, even for a night, to be someone else. Some women even kiss to shame themselves, because the memory of Jamie on their skin will rise up at unexpected moments and make them feel something, anything, even if it’s terrible. 

Dani doesn’t kiss like any of those women. 

Dani kisses like she wants. Simple and steady and nothing more. Like she wants to be kissing Jamie, wants to be learning Jamie, wants the want of it as much as the thing itself. There is no shame, in the way Dani kisses her. There is only breathless excitement, Dani moving across the sofa to press tight to Jamie’s frame along the cushions.

“I’ve never,” she says again, only this time, she’s curling the words into the underside of Jamie’s jaw. She’s letting them spill across Jamie’s skin from within the loose grip of Jamie’s arms, her hands wound tight in Jamie’s shirt, her voice jittery with anticipation. 

“If you want to stop,” Jamie begins, and Dani is shaking her head, kissing her neck, murmuring against her in such a way, Jamie can’t help but shiver.

“It’s what I--it’s right. The right way.” She lifts her eyes, and Jamie can’t help but grin at the joy reflected back. “I’ve never done it the right way.”

Jamie wants to know what that means, what the wrong way was, but it doesn’t seem a question for now. Now is just Dani, the one golden light untouched by a bleak day, the one bright spot after a tattered house Jamie doesn’t really belong in. Dani, who sighs against her lips, smiling, like she’s never been so happy to kiss someone. 

She’s waiting for Dani to reel back, to gasp, to mention the fiancé again--but Dani only presses in closer and lets her mouth linger against the thunder of Jamie’s pulse beating along in her throat. Dani only finds her lips with such a sound of relief, Jamie can do nothing but grip at her back in response. 

Have we done this before? she thinks with feverish uncertainty. Have we been here before? Dani is new, each press and slide of fingers along her skin calling forth unexpected sounds, but Dani is also right. Like meeting someone and knowing they were meant to be in your story the whole time. 

“You’re sure?” she asks, though Dani is gazing down at her with such obvious desire, it makes her stomach clench. 

Dani, in answer, kisses her as no woman has ever kissed her, and Jamie lets herself fall. 

***

Dani is still in her bed come morning. 

Dani is still wrapped around her, naked skin and rapturous smile, and Jamie thinks, How can I be so happy, when the rest of it is falling apart?

“All right?” she asks, half-expecting the awareness of the previous night--of their slow stumble across the flat, of Dani’s shirt over her head and Dani’s hands cradling Jamie’s skin--to crash in around them both like a bad dream. Dani only wriggles against her under the blankets, face pressed to Jamie’s shoulder. 

“Yes. Are you?”

No one has ever asked that, Jamie realizes dimly. Not even the first girl she’d ever loved, the one who had taken Jamie by the shoulders and kissed her hard enough to hurt. Jamie, who had only been preoccupied with the sense memory of a moment like that, with the teeth buried in her bottom lip and the hand cupped between her legs, hadn’t much cared at the time. 

Now, though, with Dani looking at her this way, she can’t imagine being with someone who doesn’t ask. Who doesn’t trail the tips of their fingers along her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck, and smile like they knew all along they were needed here. 

“I’m glad,” she hears herself say, morning rasp tracing the words, “you stayed.”

Dani is still beaming when Jamie kisses her, the implication of I am, too buried in the gentle press of her hand against Jamie’s cheek.

“Are you going to be late?” she asks a little while later, when there’s fresh sweat on her breast and Dani is gulping air against her neck. Dani shakes her head, dusting light kisses across Jamie’s skin. She swallows, laughs, groans when Dani finds a particularly pleasant spot in the hollow of her throat and sets to exploring it properly. “Keep doing that, and I will be.”

And would that be so bad? To leave the house for a day. To pretend like it isn’t all imploding around her, a little family divided by one man’s arrogance. Like Jamie doesn’t feel, more and more each day, as though she is the odd one out, the seventh wheel amid three solid pairs.

Dani, still teasing the clench of her stomach with curious fingers, says, “Guess you should go, then,” and Jamie thinks no one has ever said as much to her with less pleasure. No one has ever sounded quite so inclined to keep Jamie close. 

“I’ll be back,” she promises, and Dani--spilled across her sheets like she was placed by some grand wish--grins all the wider.

***

Rebecca spends the day in silent fury, tears running down her cheeks. Hannah spends it trying to keep her lips pursed around I told you so-shaped phrasing. Owen spends it in the kitchen, head down, and Jamie spends it teaching the kids how to properly weed out a garden, just for the distraction of it all.

Peter, they tell her, is gone. 

Peter, they tell her, left last night. 

“Gone where?” Dani asks when she pushes into the flat that night to find her still here, wrapped in one of Jamie’s favorite shirts and a pair of shorts. She has spent the day, she says, feeling intrusive, feeling as though she ought to be somewhere. Jamie, unable to explain the ease with which she does it, only leans in to kiss her slowly. 

“Here,” she says. “Meant to be here.”

As for Peter--she doesn’t much care where he’s skittered off to. Good fucking riddance, in her opinion. 

“Rebecca probably doesn’t agree,” Dani says, folded onto one of the sparse kitchen chairs with bare feet and a worried expression Peter doesn’t deserve. Across from her, Jamie sighs. 

“Maybe he’s got the right idea.”

Dani tips her head, waiting, and it strikes Jamie that this is an already that doesn’t make much sense. Like the comfortable silences, Dani’s capacity to already understand when she needs to talk something out, when she needs to come to a matter on her own terms without being rushed along, is a thrill. 

“Been thinking,” she goes on slowly, giving voice to thoughts she’s been batting around for months, “maybe I’ve outstayed my welcome, as it were. At the house. With the others.”

“You said you loved it,” Dani points out. Jamie sighs.

“Love the work. Love the people, some of ‘em. But there’s something about it--something about being bound to the place that feels...”

Suffocating, she doesn’t say. Like trying to walk against the wind. Like a clock ticking down.

“Been thinking for a while,” she says instead, “about moving on. Traveling some. Can find good work for my hands anywhere, can’t I?”

Dani doesn’t answer. Dani seems to recognize this is Jamie’s future to parse out, Jamie’s thoughts to sift through. Dani having spent a night in her bed is not qualified to deter or convince her. 

“It can be lonely,” she says, when Jamie goes quiet. “Traveling without a destination.”

“You’ve been doing it,” Jamie points out, smiling a little, and Dani looks almost embarrassed. 

“Seemed the only thing to do, at the time. If I had to do it again...”

“You’d stay home?”

Dani laughs. “No. No, absolutely not.” Her hand slides across the table, tangling with Jamie’s fingers. “But...I don’t know that I’d do it alone again. If I didn’t have to.”

Jamie says nothing, the words revolving around and around between them. It’s too early to say it, she thinks. Even if she feels as though she’s known Dani far longer than these few weeks, these spare bundles of days spent talking, laughing, kissing, it hasn’t been long enough to say a thing like this. 

Dani is watching with serious eyes, with a strangely calm expression, and Jamie wonders if she can see it in her eyes, the thing she is deliberately not saying out loud.

***

She expects to find Peter back again the next day, but his absence is etched into every inch of wallpaper like a smoke stain. Rebecca seems to be moving in slow motion, going about the business of teaching the kids with very little investment. Hannah and Owen exchange concerned looks over the lunch table, and Jamie--who had enjoyed a languorous morning with Dani in her entirely too-small shower--finds herself thinking again of this house, how good it is at building pairs of people. How, without her pair, Rebecca seems lost. How, without Jamie around each morning, Hannah and Owen seem to be revolving ever nearer to one another. 

And maybe that’s for the best, she thinks. Maybe it’s like science, like the simplicity of an atom. Maybe without Peter holding her to the structure, Rebecca will ultimately bounce off again, vanish into a space built for, instead of around, her. Maybe Owen and Hannah will finally speak of quiet lovely truths they’ve been dancing around for years. Maybe it will all balance out. 

“Where are you off to next?” she asks Dani one night, the two of them curled close in bed. Dani, who had been drowsing against her shoulder, raises her head. 

“Kicking me out?” There’s a smile on her lips which, when paired with the genuine edge of worry in her voice, makes Jamie’s heart hurt. 

“No, I--I mean, I know it’s...early. And you can say no. Please, by all means, say no if you--”

“Ask,” Dani interrupts gently. Jamie sighs. 

“I’m going to call up Wingrave. Let him know he’ll be needing a new groundskeeper for the autumn season. I can’t...”

Keep listening to the walls breathe around me, she doesn’t say. Keep watching Rebecca mope, and the kids checking every window for Peter fucking Quint’s reflection. Can’t keep still in this place that only ever wants a person to stay the same. 

“I can’t,” she repeats solidly. “I was wondering if you’d...if you wanted...”

It’s been a week since opening her bed to Dani Clayton, and a week is nothing. A week is barely a breath, in the grand scheme of things, but there are feelings Jamie can’t bury once dug up. Certainties she can’t turn from, once looked in the eye. There is something about the way Dani exhales across her skin in her sleep, about the way Dani kisses her with open abandon when Jamie touches her, about the look in Dani’s eyes when she thinks Jamie doesn’t see. A week in her bed. A month in her life. 

Sometimes, she thinks recklessly, you know it’s worth trying for.

“If you wanted the company,” she says finally. “Not even forever, if you didn’t want--”

“Forever’s a long time,” Dani replies, though she’s smiling. Heat winds its way up Jamie’s neck, settling between her shoulder blades, at the small of her back where Dani’s hand seems always to grip tight around her shirt. 

“It is. Yeah.”

“Start smaller?” Dani suggests quietly, even as she’s pressing close, one leg sliding between Jamie’s beneath the sheets. “Only, I knew someone once, who demanded forever. It...didn’t work out.”

“Smaller,” Jamie agrees, relieved. Dani smiles against her lips, each kiss a little longer, a little more wanting than the last. “Little at a time, maybe.”

“Company would be nice,” Dani answers, and then she’s kissing Jamie for real, pressing Jamie into the sheets, and Jamie doesn’t care that the summer has been a mess of other people’s feelings, that the house is a cataclysm of old ghosts and unpleasant exhumations, that people are rarely worth the effort sunk into them. Jamie doesn’t care about anything just now except the distinct sound of Dani’s laugh in her mouth, the distinct pressure of Dani’s fingers against her heart. 

A woman in her pub. An event built of a dozen tiny accidents, a dozen roads taken without expectation of consequence. Maybe in another life, Dani would have chosen the next village down the way. Maybe in another life, Jamie would have been too wary to meet her eyes. Maybe in another life, Rebecca would never have come to teach those kids, Peter would never have made a misery of that house, Owen and Hannah would have built a love in Paris to put them all to shame. Other lives. Other roads. 

In this one, Jamie dreams of adventure, of a soft hand tucked into her own, of blue eyes and a brave little grin, and thinks, Half the fun, isn’t it? Never knowing where you might land. 

[jonkentt]

we could move in together

or Bucky suffering but make it crack****

Bucky drops onto the couch with a contented sigh. He stretches out, hands behind his head, smirking like he’s truly done something to be proud of. Sam’s coming over for dinner and finally, finally Bucky’s got a plan. They’ve been alternating these datenights dinners and whenever it’s Sam’s turn he cooks. Big batches of stuff he says he wants to make for Sara and the boys if it’s any good. Course, it’s always good. Bucky loves Sam’s cooking. He loves showing up much too early so he can watch Sam cook. Sam gets in fights with pots and pans, curses under his breath whenever he measures something wrong. You’d think everything he made would be a disaster but somehow, no matter how many times Sam swears that internet recipes are the bane of his existence, the food is delicious. Which makes Bucky feel like an asshole for ordering take-out on his turn every single time.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to cook for Sam. Boy, has he tried. But how can he tell if anything’s edible? Nothing compares to Sam’s cooking. So Bucky’ll make something, taste a spoonful, and decide it’s complete shit just in time for Sam to show up. There’s been a couple of close calls when Sam asked why his apartment smelled like pasta if they were eating deli sandwiches. (“It smells burnt in here, Buck.” “Ha! Yeah, I think my neighbor, uh, had some trouble.”) But tonight, Bucky has a plan. He found a recipe that was supposed to be “fool proof” and practiced making it yesterday. Sure it’s a mac-n-cheese casserole but there were several different cheeses in it so… that should count for something. He had a dish waiting to be put it in the oven when Sam arrived.

“I think we got this all tied up, don’t you Alpine?” Bucky says to the rabbit as she makes her way across the room to settle on his feet. Alpine’s favorite place to sit is on Bucky’s feet, which he thinks is adorable. He considers cuddling Alpine on his lap but Sam will be here any minute and he doesn’t need to be covered in bunny hair. Bucky as some class. The self-satisfied grin is still plastered to his face when Sam let’s himself into his apartment.

“Sam! You gotta explain this show to me! TV doesn’t make sense anymore.” His smile falters when he turns to see Sam crossing the room in long strides, some kind of burning intent clear on his face. “Uh—” Sam lands on the couch turned towards him. Bucky is keenly aware of the lack of personal space Sam has left between them. Sam’s knee is practically in his lap. Bucky sits there with his mouth half open, struck by the intensity of Sam’s stare. He doesn’t look angry, so that’s good at least. But what the fuck?

“Did you tell Sarah we were moving in together?”

Bucky blinks. “Wha—”

“At the cookout. Sarah just asked me if we’d found a place yet. What the hell? You can’t just tell my sister that we’re moving in together and not let me know!”

Bucky lets out a startled laugh. “The cookout? That was weeks ago! I’m sure she was just messing with you—”

“So you were joking?” Again, Bucky’s smile slides off his face. What is happening? Sam is not kidding right now. He might very actually be pissed off. But it was a joke? …wasn’t it?

“I…” Bucky trails off. So he’s been daydreaming about living with Sam. But that’s not what Bucky tells himself. He’s just picturing their dinners together at different times of day. Like in the mornings. Sam in pajamas is a quintessential element of these daydreams.

“Were you serious, Bucky? I’m trying to imagine that you wouldn’t just run your mouth off around my sister as a joke.” Sam is pinning him with this intense expression that Bucky can’t figure out and it’s taking all his self control not to squirm.

“I guess… it wasn’t.”

Sam keeps up the laser eyes till Bucky can practically feel two points boring through his skull. Finally, Sam sighs.

“Man…” Sam says, slowly shaking his head. He takes Bucky’s hand and holds it to his chest, just like they had outside Sarah’s house after Bucky confessed an overdue apology. But now, Bucky’s hand is literally against Sam’s chest and he can feel Sam’s heart beating. The thud, thud makes his stomach flip. Bucky stares at their hands. Sam is so close and that’s making him forget how to breathe. Maybe he should be looking somewhere else. Somewhere other than Sam’s hand gripping his. Listening to something other than Sam’s heartbeat. When Bucky meets Sam’s eyes again he regrets it instantly. This is 100x worse than before. This is tender.

“If you’re going to do this, you gotta be sure.” Sam’s voice is warm. His brown eyes are warm. His hand is warm. His chest is— you get the idea. Bucky’s brain still isn’t processing what the hell Sam is talking about. “Cause I won’t have you fuckin’ around with my heart.” Wait- what? “I don’t have the time or the mental space to deal with that. You understand?” Bucky would literally rather be in cryo right now. “Bucky.” The fuck does Sam expect him to say? If he starts moving his lips then words should form eventually.

“I wouldn’t do…” This is a struggle. Sam raises an eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t do what?”

“Fuck around.” It comes out barely a whisper. Sam sighs and Bucky thinks he’s actually going to die.

“What are we talking about, Buck? How you wouldn’t lie to my sister? Or how—”

“Yeah! Sure! I don’t know!” Bucky has class. He swears to god he used to have class. “I wouldn’t lie to Sarah! Yeah, I do want to live with you. It’s kinda the only thing I think about. But I didn’t know how to tell YOU that!” There’s a grin spreading across Sam’s face and it’s making Bucky feel things. “And I wouldn’t fuck around with your heart! That’s literally the last thing I would ever do! Your heart is very important to me and I would…!” Whatever courage he had is disappearing fast. “…take care…” Dear god almighty does Sam have to do that with his face? “…of it.”

Sam is smiling like the actual sun. And Bucky is burning to a crisp under a magnifying glass.

Sam leans back with a satisfied “hrmph.” He drops Bucky’s hand and stands up. Bucky involuntarily leans into the empty space like Sam left some kind of gravitational pull. What the fuck just happened? Bucky looks at Alpine. The rabbit is sitting on her hind legs beside him, looking up at him curiously and twitching her nose.

“So what’s for dinner? Take-out again?” If it could reach, Bucky’s jaw would drop to the floor. Sam looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

“That’s it?!!”

“What’s it? You forget to order a pizza or somethin?” Sam takes a few steps toward the kitchen and Bucky jumps off the couch.

“Sam. I hate you.”

“Wow. That hurts, Bucky. I thought my heart was important to you.”

“I—!” Bucky flails his arms around. Sam is grinning in that stupidly adorable irresistible way of his. The situation is hopeless. How is Bucky supposed to think when Sam is being this cute? And now he knows that Bucky wants to live with him? Disastrous. “I made you dinner!”

Sam looks surprised, maybe even a little touched. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Bucky pushes past him on his way into the kitchen, overly aware of how their shoulders brush. Bucky pulls the casserole out of the fridge and transfers it to the pre-heated oven. Now that he’s not looking at Sam, the thought of meeting his gaze again makes Bucky feel queasy. Instead he decides to lean over the oven and stare at its digital clock. A perfect excuse to avoid those obnoxiously beautiful brown eyes for the next 20 minutes.

“What is it?”

“Casserole.”

Sam laughs. “You realize there’s like a million different kinds of casseroles, right?”

“Macaroni,” Bucky mumbles.

“Sounds promising. You’ve got beer somewhere?” Bucky mumbles some more because how can he admit now that he went searching for Sam’s favorite hard lemonade that’s annoyingly hard to get in New York? He hears Sam open the fridge. Too late. “Oh my god, you found this stuff here?!” The distinct crack of a can opening punctuates Sam’s excitement. “You’re the best, man.”

Bucky could say something snarky. Really, he should at least try. But his ears are burning and so is his face and goddammit why is this happening. Sam’s silent, clearly waiting for a comeback. Bucky starts to sweat. He hears Sam come up behind him. What is breathing? Surely it’s a non-essential function. Then Sam presses himself to Bucky’s back and wraps his perfect hunky arms around his waist. Bucky’s hearts skips at least five beats when he feels Sam’s warm breath on his ear.

“You just gonna stare at the clock then, huh?”

“Ye—“ Bucky clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“Mmm, okay,” Sam hums and rests his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, obviously with no intention of showing mercy.

“What are you doing?” Bucky’s voice is much higher than he cares to admit.

“Staring with you.” Bucky swallows. He can’t do this for another 18 minutes. “You gonna cook for me when we live together?”

WHAT. Bucky’s brain is hot and spinning like a clothes dryer but it’s his thoughts that are tumbling. Yeah, he’s definitely sweating a lot now. Bucky ducks his head, not realizing that would be a terrible idea. Sam drops a kiss on the exposed back of his neck. So this is it then. This is how it ends. Bucky is going to pass out or die or both.

“How much longer can you hold your breath before it becomes a problem?” God, Sam is such a smug asshole. “I don’t wanna scrape you off the kitchen floor before dinner.”

Bucky tries to inhale slowly, but it’s shaky- of fucking course it is. “I really hate you,” is all he can manage to whisper.

“Ya know, that’s funny,” Sam purrs. Literally purrs because he clearly wants Bucky to suffer. “Cause I could swear that you actually have a huge, embarrassing, all-consuming crush on me.”

Fuck right off, Sam Wilson, you perfect fucking prick, is what Bucky thinks. But somehow, unforgivably, what he says is, “You have really beautiful eyes, Sam.”

That startles a laugh out of Sam. “Why thank you, Bucky! But it’s kinda hard to believe you really mean that from the way you’re so adamantly not looking at me.”

“You know I mean it. Always accusing me of having a staring problem.”

“Still… you could convince me.” Sam’s tone is a challenge. Fuck this.

“Sam, if I look at you, I’ll either die or have to kiss you.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Sam chuckles. “You can kiss me, but dying right now would be inconvenient.”

That’s it! Bucky turns on him. “Inconvenient? In- fucking -convenient?!”

“Well, yeah, you didn’t say how long the casserole should be in the oven for.”

“Get out of my apartment!”

“Make me!”

Bucky grabs Sam’s face in both hands and kisses him hungrily. Fuck mac-n-cheese. He’s having Sam for dinner.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Eleven: Water Under the Bridge (Finale)

a/n: welcome back my loves <3 It’s so weird to think that this is the final chapter of YBMH and I’m definitely having a lot of feelings about it (denial, mostly). I want to say a huge thank you from the very bottom of my heart for sticking with this story and these characters that I love so much. I’ve had the most fun over the past few months talking to some of you and hearing your thoughts; I cherish it more than you’ll ever know. With all of that said, I’m going to miss this era so so much but I would still love to hear from you lovelies, so please feel free to drop by my inbox and let me know what you thought of this series!! Feedback, criticism, all of it is welcome :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, angst

Word Count: 6.7k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and ten

January, 2018

A strand of hair tickles Harry’s nose and his eyes flutter open. The faint sound of car horns and traffic outside reminds him of his location when his memory fails. He gently slips out of the bed and tiptoes over to the window, careful not to wake the girl sleeping soundly next to him. A thick layer of snow blankets every building and surface in New York City as far as the eye can see, and the grey sky above signals another storm on its way. 

I’m going to die of hypothermia, Alani shivers, nursing her steaming cup of tea as she walks away from the office window and takes a seat behind her desk. Even after living in the city for a year, she still hadn’t adjusted to the cold weather and feared that she never would. Her boyfriend had joked on numerous occasions that you can take the girl out of the island, but you can’t take the island out of the girl. 

“Vanessa’s on line three,” her assistant calls from the doorway. 

“Thanks,” Alani nods before bringing the phone to her ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was brilliant,” the editor admits. “Insightful, witty. I think they’ll love it,”

Alani smiles and spins in her seat to face the window again. “St. James has been on my ass about this piece for weeks. I hope it’ll shut him up,”

“It will, trust me. Hey, I gotta go, but I sent the revision notes and we can discuss more later,”

“Great, thank you so much. See you at dinner,”

“Ta-ta.”

Alani reaches for a pen and scribbles a reminder onto a pink post-it note nearby. 

Bloody five-star hotel, you’d think they could afford decent pens.  Harry grumbles to himself, shaking the ballpoint to no avail. 

“Where are you going?”

Harry freezes in his tracks and turns to the brunette stretching out her tired limbs. He has to clear his throat to keep from saying the wrong name. 

“Just a quick walk,” he explains with a tight lipped smile. “Go back to bed.” 

She flashes a wide grin and snuggles back into the covers, but he secretly hopes that she’s gone by the time he returns. 

The snow crunches under Harry’s feet and he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. He had never been very fond of the cold, but he did have to admit that Central Park looked unbelievably beautiful in the winter. His phone buzzes inside his pocket and he digs it out to read the message. 

Mitch: Me and Sarah are going to Bisous in ten. Meet us?

Harry: See you there. 

********

“French is such a pretentious language,” Maleah scoffs, taking a bite of her pastry. “But I’ll be damned if I have to give up my chocolate croissants,”

Alani chuckles lightly and traces the restaurant’s logo of a red kiss printed on her napkin. Going to Bisous at least once a day had become a tradition during her best friend’s visits. 

“I’ll have to smuggle a real one back for you and then you can tell me if this one’s the real deal,”

“When are you going, again?”

“Next month,”  

Maleah wiggles her brows. “Oooh, Valentine’s Day? Are you taking Mason with you?”

“No,” Alani says casually. “It’s for work,”

“Well, who says you can’t mix business and pleasure?”

“Literally everyone.”

“Okay,” Maleah sighs, patting her full stomach. “Let’s go now before I get sleepy.”

The two friends make their way out of the busy restaurant and Alani’s shoulder brushes someone next to her. 

“Sorry.” she apologizes, making brief eye contact with the other person before doing a double take. 

Mitch purses his lips and turns his head back to the other girl at his arm while Maleah drags Alani out the door. 

********

“I mean, what the hell was that? I could barely keep my drum kit together,” Sarah laughs gently, sipping her coffee. 

“Cause of death: rocking too fucking hard,” Mitch shrugs. “There are worse ways to die,”

Harry stirs his black coffee with a spoon and watches the mini whirlpool grow. “Rob said you could feel it in the balcony, too,”

“I’m surprised you didn’t die,” Mitch pokes. “Mr. defective lungs,”

“Heyyy, I can’t help the asthma thing, alright?”

“Well it’s the last night,” Sarah chimes in. “Are we gonna try to beat the Kiwi record and go for four times in a row?”

Harry shrugs, a soft grin on his lips. “Dunno. Maybe if it feels right,”

“I say we cut out the middleman and just bulldoze MSG ourselves. What difference does it make if the fans tear the house down or if we do?” Mitch suggests. 

“Oh yeah,” Harry nods. “I’m sure Irving would love that.”

“Some food for thought.”

The trio finish their breakfasts and excitedly continue their conversations about the impending show, but the entire time, Mitch is haunted by the knowledge of Alani’s presence in the city. He debates telling Harry, but is suddenly reminded of the intense aftermath of the pair’s falling out. 

********

“Where’s Alani?”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that name to me ever again.” 

Mitch’s brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”

And with a simple question, anger had subsided into grief. Mitch still didn’t  know all of the details surrounding their split, but he had pieced together sufficient bits from Jeff and, in part, from the lyrics Harry penned in the following weeks. The slump had lasted through the fall and winter of that year, but as spring rolled around and the album’s release drew closer, Harry pulled himself together enough to promote and tour. It felt good to be on the road, and he found himself revitalized by the energy of those who came to support. Tour itself had been relatively intimate, as he had actively decided to play smaller venues than the sold out stadiums he was accustomed to, but the enthusiasm of the crowds hadn’t changed from his band days. As Harry occupied his attention with music, Hawaii grew smaller and smaller in the back of his mind. Eventually, it dwindled into a dull ache at the center of his chest, felt only on particularly long nights coaxed with a little bit of alcohol in his bloodstream. For now, he tried to focus on his last show at Madison Square Garden. 

********

Alani’s stomach turns. Had she really seen Mitch or had it been a remarkable doppelgänger? She hoped it was the latter, knowing that if he really was in New York City, Harry wasn’t far behind. This was by no means the first time she had been reminded of her summer love turned sour, but it stung just as much every time. The first incident was last April when she turned on the T.V. only to find Harry performing one of his new songs on Saturday Night Live. It had resulted in the loss of her favorite mug as it shattered against the hardwood floor in her apartment. Since that day, Alani had seen his face on countless billboards in Times Square and habitually asked taxi drivers to change the radio station or turn it off entirely. After a while, she had gotten better at dealing with the sinking feeling whenever he was mentioned, it was easier to detach feelings for someone who lived on a screen. Running into Mitch, however, had blasted a hole straight through the fourth wall that Alani had erected,  and she knew that there was absolutely no way she could cope with a similar encounter from Harry. 

“Oh shit,” Maleah gasps softly, looking through the windshield at the hundreds of people lined up on the pavement outside of Madison Square Garden. 

“What?” Alani asks, head still spinning. 

Her best friend immediately turns to her with a nervous smile and shrugs. “Oh it’s nothing. Hey do I have something in my teeth?”

Alani glances out the window behind Maleah and her eyes bulge. “Woah, what’s happening there?”

“Oh it’s probably, like, Lady Gaga or something. Anyways, look at this random text I got the other day.”

But it wasn’t “Lady Gaga or something.” The marquee reads “Harry Styles—SOLD OUT” in bold lettering. Alani retches into her bag. 

********

“Oh, for fucks saaake!” Harry shouts playfully, the sound of his obscenities echoing throughout the large venue. 

Mitch and Adam chuckle beside him and continue setting up their equipment while Sarah offers a comedic “badum-tss” on her drum set. 

“Okay then at that point, stage lights will come down and it’s ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’,” the technical director speaks into his earpiece.

Harry nods and watches the screen behind him roll through the animation that will play during the song. 

“Alright, then it’s—”

“Wait,” Harry interjects over the mic. “Sorry, can we run it?”

“Run ‘Meet Me’?”

“Yeah,”

Mitch tenses listening to the conversation that filters through his own inner ear piece, but he continues fiddling with the strings of his guitar.  

“Running ‘Meet Me’,” the director affirms. “Sarah, stand by.”

Harry’s eyes dart over to Mitch and he nods as a sign to begin. The guitarist clears his throat and strums the opening chords. 

Meet me in the hallway 

“M’gonna go wait in the hall…”

Meet me in the hallway 

“Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

I just left your bedroom 

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

Give me some morphine 

“I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

Is there any more to do?

“Please don’t go.”

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Maybe I shouldn’t go,” Maleah offers. “I can catch a return flight tomorrow,”

Alani sits up in her bed and shakes her head. “No, Mi, it’s okay. I’ll be fine,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. It’s probably just a stomach bug or something,”

Maleah gives her friend a tight squeeze and pulls away to read her face. “Let me know if you need anything, I’ll come right back,”

“Thank you,” Alani says, forcing a smile. “I’m so sorry to put a damper on your last day.”

“Nah, there’s nothing to worry about. Feel better soon, Nani.”

The door closes softly and Alani burrows deeper into the covers. She tries to bury the emotion back under a lock and key, but a gentle sob fights its way up her chest. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she cries, but maybe it was. Just as the sun rises and sets, so had Harry entered and exited her life, and maybe that’s exactly how it was meant to be. After all, Alani had gotten exactly what she wanted, hadn’t she? So why does it still hurt? 

The snow falls gently outside of her window, but the entire scene blurs into shades of white and grey behind her tears. It had snowed just like this on the day she moved to the city. Shortly after the article about Harry had been published by a small gossip site, Alani had contacted the publishers and threatened litigation if they didn’t take it down. Unsurprisingly, they had also been contacted by Columbia Records and thus, the piece was removed that same day. Despite the quick turnaround, Rolling Stone had caught wind of the storm brewing on social media and reached out to Alani a few days later. They had been impressed that the elusive Harry Styles granted her an interview, but they didn’t push the matter much further. Instead, they had offered her one piece of her choosing to prove herself. If the reviews were favorable, she would be given a regular contributor spot, unpaid of course. They would re-evaluate at the beginning of the new quarter and negotiate from there. When January of 2017 rolled around, Alani’s writing was making surprising waves in the Rolling Stone community, so she had been hired on as a junior writer and assistant to the Editor in Chief. The pay wasn’t great, but it was a leap in the right direction. 

Despite everything that had changed in a year, a string of random letters on a building that Alani passed a million times had brought her emotions right back to the day she had tried so hard to forget. Her phone buzzes under the covers and she reaches out a hand to locate it. Her editor’s name appears and she answers it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“Darling, hello! Where are you?”

“Oh my god,” Alani groans. “Vanessa I’m so sorry,”

“Is everything okay?”

Alani sits up and clears her throat. “I have food poisoning,”

“Christ, from where?”

“Bisous,”

Vanessa sighs. “Poor thing. Okay, no worries we’ll just reschedule,”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you,”

“No need to be sorry, get some rest and we’ll catch up later!”

The call ends and Alani gawks at the time. 7:30 already?  She slumps back under the covers and sifts through her social media, wincing when she sees several of her friends posting about the line outside of Madison Square Garden. No, Alani decides sternly when the sudden urge to go stirs in the pit of her stomach, absolutely no fucking way. 

********

“10 minutes!”

Harry scans the crowd from the monitor backstage. He pinches his lower lip between his index finger and thumb as the nerves settle in. 

“The house is packed,” Jeff comments with a hand on the singer’s shoulder. “And there’s still a crowd outside,”

“We did it?”

“You did it,”

So why does it still hurt? 

“Thanks for everything,” Harry says, bringing his manager in for a hug. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jeff pats Harry on the back. “All in a day’s work for the dream team.”

Before heading out, Harry stops one of the crew members and asks if any of the guests on his list have arrived yet. Names are read off, friends from different inner circles over the years, but there’s one name in particular that isn’t called. He offers a thumbs up and a forced grin before making his way to the stage.

It always surprises the technical crew at every venue that Harry has specific lighting requests for the house. Performers had their individual preferences, this wasn’t unusual, but no one made a bigger deal about being able to see the crowd like Harry did. He enjoyed being able to see each person and connect with them, especially when performing an album that was as personal as this one. But in every sea he searched, one face was always missing. Tonight’s audience, much to his disappointment, was no different. 

The crowd cheers as “Sweet Creature” fades out and the lights on stage dim. More than half of the show has already gone by and they’ve reached the point that is always a little harder to get through. Harry takes a swig from his water bottle and clears his throat to fight the lump that forms. He breathes in deeply and “Meet Me in the Hallway” begins, but no matter how hard he tries to focus on the technical aspects of his performance, it’s nearly impossible not to get dragged back into the moment when the song was written. 

“I should go back,” 

“H, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“I have to go back.” 

And so he had. After two hours of pacing the airport lounge, Harry had jumped into an Uber and sped back to the hotel. It had taken another agonizing twenty minutes to explain his situation to the front desk workers and retrieve his old room key, but it was no use. He was too late. The bed was still unmade, but there was no sign of Alani save for the faint scent of Baby Honey and a gold necklace tucked away between the sheets. 

The flight back to the mainland had already departed by the time Harry stumbled through the hotel lobby, and there wouldn’t be another one for three more hours. In the meantime, he decided to get some fresh air and clear his mind, hoping all the while that he would find Alani at the edge of the beach waiting to run back into his arms. She never did, and he was left with all the words he wished he had said. 

I walked the streets all day 

Running with the thieves 

‘Cause you left me in the hallway 

Just take my pain away 

Just let me know and I’ll be at the door, at the door

Hoping you'll come around

Just let me know I’ll be on the floor, on the floor 

Maybe we’ll work it out

********

“Great show,” praises Rob Sheffield, author of one of Harry’s favorite books, Love is a Mix Tape. “Drummer’s incredible,”

Sarah beams and Harry flashes her a grin. “Thanks. It’s Sarah’s band, really. I’m just the frontman,”

“Well she kicked ass. All of you did, and I can tell by the way the floor was shaking that I’m not the only one who thought so.”

“Thank you so much, that means a lot.”

More guests filter in and congratulate Harry and the rest of the band, but while he sincerely appreciates all of the love, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker to the door every once in a while in the hope that someone else will straggle in. He slowly loses that hope when the room empties and the night drags on. 

********

This isn’t ethical, Alani chastises herself, this is wrong on every level and you’re gonna pay. She runs her fingers over the Rolling Stone press badge in her hand and stares at the marquee towering over her. What the fuck are you doing? 

“Excuse me!” Alani calls when she sees an employee slip through a side door. “Hi, I know I’m really late but I’m actually here with Rolling Stone,”

The blonde-haired woman blinks and scans over the badge with an unamused look on her face. 

“Nice try,”

“No, wait,” Alani begs. “I have to get in there, please—”

“You and every other girl within a twenty-five mile radius.”

Alani takes a deep breath and re-groups. “You don’t understand. I really need to get back there, I’m working on an important piece,”

As the struggle continues, another woman in stiletto heels exits through the side door with a clipboard in tow. 

“My name is Alani Hale, see? Please just—”

“Wait,” the woman with the clipboard intervenes. The name sounded strangely familiar, probably from the blacklist, in which case security would need to be notified. “What did you say your name was?”

Alani holds her badge out and swallows hard. “Alani Hale, junior writer for Rolling Stone.”

The woman checks through the blacklist but the name isn’t registered. She does a cursory glance over the V.I.P section and her finger lands on a note that reads “Mahealani ‘Alani’ Hale—Code Carolina: escort backstage and inform Mr. Styles immediately.”

“Follow me, please,”

Alani trails behind, doing her best to keep up with the long strides of the woman with the clipboard.

 “Marta to security, I have a Code Carolina,” she murmurs into her ear piece. “Repeat, I have a Code Carolina.”

Alani’s heart races as they zig-zag through the arena. Did Harry know that she was coming? Had Mitch told him that they saw each other at Bisous? The answer was no, Mitch hadn’t told and Harry didn’t know. He had only hoped. Unbeknownst to Alani, her name was printed on the Madison Square Garden list and on every list of every show in all the countries scheduled. Through Paris and all through Rome, Harry had looked for her face in the crowd and he dreamed that one day his efforts wouldn’t be in vain. 

“Wait here,” Marta instructs, leading Alani to a back room with mirrors, a couple of couches, and a clothing rack. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Before she can ask any questions, Marta is gone and the sound of her heels echo down the hall. Alani takes a deep breath and her lungs are immediately filled with the familiar scent of vanilla. Her eyes carefully rake over the scene and land on a familiar white shirt hanging on the rack and the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey.”

“Thief,”

“I meant to return it.”

Alani spins on her heel and Harry stands with his fists shoved deep inside the pockets of his flared pants, eyes cast down at the floor. She tugs on the sleeves of her coat and offers a shy smile. 

“It’s okay, looked better on you anyway.”

A brief silence follows and they size each other up like it’s a gunfight, each waiting to see who will draw first. His hair is longer and curlier, Alani notices, chest and shoulders broader, too. But there’s a familiarity in his creased brow and in the heart shaped curve of his cupid’s bow. Harry does his own inventory; dark, almond shaped eyes, check. Round face, cinnamon skin, check and check. Her long, wavy locks are now shoulder length, but he’d recognize the scent of Baby Honey anywhere. The two are absorbed in their own silent assessments for a moment longer, but Alani quickly gets the urge to flee after she counts too many similarities between this Harry and the one that left her with a broken heart. 

“I should go,” she croaks, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have come—”

“Why did you?” Harry asks earnestly. 

Alani tugs at a loose thread on her sleeve before crossing her arms. “Saw your name outside and got curious. For a while there, I started to think that maybe I imagined you,”

Harry doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that he had haunted her as much as she had plagued him. He had spent so long believing that he meant nothing to her, but nevertheless, a part of him left room for her return. 

“You did, this is a hologram projection,”

Alani smiles and her shoulders relax at his humor. It really was him. 

“Did you enjoy—”

“I didn’t see the show—” they speak at the same time, eager words overlapping. 

“Oh,” Harry laughs softly. “You didn’t miss much,”

Alani shakes her head and takes a single step forward. “No, that’s not true. I’m sure it was amazing,”

Harry offers a coy grin, the shadow of a dimple on his left cheek. One hand emerges from his pocket and his knuckle brushes against the tip of his nose. Alani catches sight of the silver rose on his finger and she still remembers how it feels under the pad of her thumb. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks softly, pulling her from her reverie. 

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Alani blinks, her throat suddenly dry. “Oh. Well I don’t know, I don’t wanna interrupt—”

“Never an interruption,” Harry assures her. 

She nods and he takes a step back. 

“M’gonna go change,” he explains. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“What, you don’t wear custom Marc Jacobs suits to dinner?” She teases. 

He grins, amused, and continues backing away towards the door before correcting her. “It’s Gucci.”

Alani rolls her eyes and he disappears into the hallway. 

When Harry reemerges in a beanie, puffy coat, and light wash denim jeans, he leads them through a series of tunnels and exits. 

“Where are we going?” Alani asks, bracing herself for the snow outside. 

“It’s a surprise.” he offers and she doesn’t fight him on it.

********

“We’re not eating here?” 

A soft smile falls on Harry’s lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed her incessant questioning. 

“No,”  he replies, opening the passenger door with one hand and passing her the bag that contains their dinner. “Too crowded,”

“Oh,” 

It made sense that Harry would want to keep a low profile and avoid any possible paparazzi sightings of the two of them, but it still felt strange to worry about such things after they had lived so carefree in Hawai’i. But that was then, and this was now, things had inevitably changed. 

“D’you wanna play some music?” Harry asks, settling behind the wheel. The parallels between this moment and their first excursion together make her chest tighten. 

“How about,” Alani starts. “Your album? Since I didn’t get to hear it live,”

Harry’s breathing hitches. “Well, I dunno—”

“Please?”

He meets her pleading eyes momentarily and, against his better judgment, agrees. 

“What’s it called?” she questions. 

“It’s just my name,”

“Self-titled, very classy. I like it,”

“I thought about calling it Sign of the Times,” Harry reveals. “But it’s already been done before,”

Alani hums. “Prince,”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But then I also thought about going with ‘Pink,’ because, you know, when in doubt—”

“Go with the pink one,” they say in unison and Alani smiles softly. How had he remembered that?

“And it’s the only true rock ‘n roll color,” she continues. 

Harry beams. “Exactly. But then Jeff suggested that we just go with the name. Simple, but effective,”

“Okay, so now that we’ve got the background,” Alani pokes. “And you’ve sufficiently distracted me, can I listen now?”

He swallows and checks the GPS, still twenty-five minutes to go. 

“How about we hold off,” he suggests. “Just for now so we can listen to the full thing and really soak it in?”

Alani backs off. “Alright, deal.”

She presses shuffle on the playlist of her frequently played songs for the month and immediately regrets doing so. Clearing her throat, she goes to press skip but Harry stops her. 

“S’a good one.” he says gently, so Alani lets Adele fill the awkward space. 

If you’re gonna let me down 

Let me down gently don’t pretend 

That you don’t want me 

Our love ain’t water under the bridge

********

Harry opens the passenger door and Alani steps out, her eyes squinting to make out any recognizable landmarks in their surroundings. They remain a comfortable two feet apart and make their way to the entrance of what appears to be some sort of greenhouse. Alani is filled with more confusion, but she doesn’t ask further questions until they reach the white double doors. 

“What?” Harry questions. “Never been to the New York Botanical Garden?”

Alani’s eyes widen. “The—wait, you—we’re?”

“After you,” he chuckles lightly, opening the doors. 

“Are we even allowed? I mean is it open?”

“I pulled some strings,”

She enters cautiously, immediately met with an archway of blush colored flowers and string lights that takes her breath away. A long, narrow pond in the center reflects the image back and creates a kaleidoscope of pink, green, and golden hues. 

“How did you,” Alani begins, at a complete loss for words. “Who are you?”

Harry nods in the direction of an adjacent hallway. “There’s a ballroom set up for a wedding tomorrow night, but Jim said we could crash as long as we clean up after ourselves,”

“Jim?”

“The director.”

“Of course.” 

Sure enough, round tables with cream colored tablecloth and elaborate floral centerpieces are arranged around the room. A delicate, yet undoubtedly expensive, chandelier twinkles in the center of the room and casts such a warm glow that Alani momentarily forgets about the snow outside. 

“Dig in,” Harry instructs, setting the pasta on the table in front of them. 

Alani sits and gently sheds her winter coat as he does the same. Underneath his jacket, Harry wears a yellow shirt that catches her eye with the words “treat people with kindness” printed in black lettering. She freezes when she spots a gold chain with a sun and moon pendant nestled comfortably between above the words.

“How is everyone?” Alani questions politely to shift her attention. “Mitch, Tom, Jeff,”

“They’re good, yeah,” he nods. “How’re Freddie and your family?”

“They’re fine, and he’s living his blissful little life,”

“Good for him. Miss his cuddles,”

And yours, Harry thinks, but he pulls back. Alani offers a shy laugh and thinks about the elephant in the room yet to be addressed: the break-up. It’s worth discussing, but she sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

“And how’ve you been?” Harry asks when the silence stretches out for too long. 

Alani chews and ponders the question. “Good. Been working a lot,”

“Where at?”

“Rolling Stone,”

“Really?” he beams. “That’s incredible, congratulations,”

“Thank you,” she replies graciously. 

Harry’s chin rests in his palm and he twirls a noodle around his fork. “So you live here?”

“Yeah, in the Village,”

“Wow. Greenwich Village, a real city-slicker now. Traded Stevie in for the Holland Tunnel?”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Alani’s lips at the memory of her beloved Bronco. “Sadly, yes. And you?”

“Malibu,” Harry divulges. “I hate the cold.”

“It’s not so bad. You can always cuddle up with the giant rats,” she jokes, which makes his nose scrunch.

“I’m just gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” 

“Speaking of pretend,” Alani wiggles her brows. “You were in a movie after all,” 

“I was,” 

“I didn’t watch it, sorry,” 

Harry feigns offense and Alani quickly back pedals. “I don’t like war movies!”

“And you hated my guts.” he teases, though it pains him that there might be some truth to his words. 

Alani shakes her head and fights the urge to reach across the table for his hand. “No, not really. It was kind of the opposite, actually.” 

Harry’s eye wanders to the outside of Alani’s wrist and a faint smile creeps across his face when he spots the black outline of a crescent moon. He wonders if there are any new inked designs that he isn’t aware of. Despite all the time that has elapsed, there is a familiarity in her presence that he hadn’t felt even in the comforts of his California residence. It was like kicking off your shoes in the doorway after a long trip. It was like coming home. 

They finish their meal and continue their light-hearted banter into the night. Harry tells his favorite stories from tour and Alani wishes more than anything that she could have been there. She details the events of her own busy life in New York and the highlights of working for Rolling Stone, one of which being the time that she got to meet Stevie Nicks in the flesh. 

“Did you tell her about your car?” Harry presses enthusiastically. 

“No way,” Alani chuckles, draining the last of her drink. “I wasn’t gonna embarrass myself in front of the Supreme,” 

“I think she would’ve found it flattering,” 

“Naming your child after someone is flattering, not a car,” 

Harry shrugs. “I think it’s cute,” 

“Yeah well,” Alani sighs. “You’re not like most people,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She mulls it over, studying the familiar sea glass irises that she never thought she’d see again. What had Alani meant by that statement? Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could put it into words, nor had she meant to say them in the first place. But something about Harry always made her feel brave, like she could speak her mind uncensored and he would understand without even trying. 

“I just meant that you’re, you know,” she starts. “Not judgemental. Like, I could tell you that I think I’m part alien and you’d probably try to help me find my home planet,” 

Harry laughs and leans forward with his elbows on the table, an unspoken challenge for Alani to continue her thoughts. 

“You make people feel seen and heard,” she says finally with a wistful look in her eye. “I mean, why do you think all those people lined up to see you tonight?” 

The last part of her statement is a deflection from what she really wants to say, which is that Harry makes her feel seen and heard. Despite all the time and space between them, it was still true and it terrified her. There was only so much bravery that Harry’s presence could evoke. The mood shifts suddenly when Alani’s phone buzzes and the name “Mason” with a pink heart emoji lights up the screen next to her glass of water. Harry hadn’t meant to look and he deeply regrets that he did. 

“You have a boyfriend,” he comments dejectedly, and though he hadn’t meant it to be accusatory, all words carry the sting of judgment when falling on guilty ears. 

“Oh, and I’m sure you’ve stayed celibate this entire time,” Alani bites back. 

Harry’s brow furrows. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she apologizes, standing with her coat. 

“Wait,” he jumps up. “What just happened?”

“I have to go—”

“Just stop for a minute, please,”

Alani stops in her tracks and turns back to face Harry slowly. His jaw is tight and the crease between his eyebrows is deeper than she remembers. 

“I’m sorry,” she begins carefully. “Thank you for tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here—”

Harry’s eyes clamp shut and he runs a frustrated hand through his messy curls.  

“Can you stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by leaving and just talk to me?”

“What do you want me to say?” Alani pushes back. “‘I’m sorry that I saw your name in flashing lights and I got caught trying to spy on you’?”

“Alani—”

“‘I’m sorry that I tried to move on’?”

“Stop apologizing—”

“I’m sorry that I fell in love and fucked it all up because I was afraid and I’m sorry that I betrayed the one person who meant everything to me,”

Silence falls between them and the only sound is the sniffling of Alani’s nose as she tries, and fails, to hold back the emotions that pour over. 

“That’s why I went,” she continues, voice wavering. “Because I’m selfish and I couldn’t stay away. Every single day, I’m reminded of how royally I screwed everything up and it tears me apart, so I went to try to make things right and take some of that pain away. Even though I hurt you and there’s nothing I can ever do to change that,”

Harry swallows hard and his eyes sting, but Alani speaks up again before he can respond. 

“So please,” she begs. “Please, just let me finally do something right by you and let me go,”

He takes a cautious step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t want to,”

They both hold their breaths, anticipating the other person’s next draw. 

“And maybe that makes me selfish too,” Harry adds. “‘Cause I went back that day, back to the hotel,”

Alani blinks. “You did?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Because I wasn’t mad that you published the article, I was scared that it was the only reason you were with me—”

“Harry—”

“But then I realized that I didn’t care,” he laughs dryly. “Because I still loved you, and I figured that having you— having just a little bit of your heart and your attention—was worth it, even if you didn’t really love me back,”

He takes another step forward and the toes of their shoes nearly touch. “And maybe I’m being selfish now by asking you to stay, but you’re not the only one trying to get rid of the pain,”

Alani takes a shallow breath and studies the eagerness in his eyes. The sight makes her chest pound. 

“I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt,” she whispers. “But I meant every word I said, you were everything to me. You were the sun that my life revolved around and I was terrified of losing you because the truth is that I hate the cold, too,”

Harry gently reaches a hand up to her cheek and Alani leans into the warmth of his touch. 

“Can I show you something?”

You and your goddamn surprises. “Yes.”

He leads them down several winding hallways before flicking a light on in the gallery. Alani’s heart stops when she sees it. 

“Not quite as impressive as the real thing,” Harry offers. “But Ms. O’Keeffe did a pretty damn good job,”

An original Georgia O’Keeffe painting of a waterfall, their waterfall, the one that Alani had mentioned all that time ago, is displayed proudly on the wall before them. A replica had hung above the bed they shared on many nights and all at once a faint memory resurfaces. 

“Where did you say the original was?”

“New York Botanical Garden,” 

 “M’gonna take you one day,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alani takes a step closer to the artwork and examines the details of the oil on canvas. A few steps behind, Harry is only concerned with her reaction and pays little attention to the piece of art on display. As far as he was concerned, Alani was the only one worth admiring. 

“Do you remember what you told me when I asked why you went to the falls to write?” Alani asks. 

Of course Harry had, but he remains silent to let her continue. 

“You said that you liked going there,” she adds, deliberate. “Because it made you forget about every bad thing that ever happened to you, because none of it was real in comparison to the feeling of standing in front of that waterfall,”

Harry nods gently, but he still doesn’t speak. 

“Do you know what that feeling is called?”

“No,”

“It’s called home,” Alani says softly, turning to face him. “It’s what I felt, what I feel, when I’m with you,”

His breath hitches and he stands frozen as she carefully walks toward him.

“And while we’re making wishes come true,” she smiles delicately. “I never told you what I wished for the day we saw that rainbow,”

“What did you wish for?” Harry searches. 

Alani’s eyes fall to his parted lips. “That you would kiss me.”

His mouth curls at the edges and he releases a long breath. “Think maybe I can deliver on that one, too.”

Harry leans in, ever so slightly, and Alani closes the gap. They had been standing mere inches apart, but the meeting of their lips bridges an entire chasm. Over and over again, like waves against the shore, their mouths collide desperately as they pull each other closer with no intentions of ever letting go. 

********

February 14, 2018

“Comment est le temps?” 

Alani peers up at Harry and shields her eyes from the sun behind his back. “What does that mean?”

He grins softly and kisses the top of her head before taking a seat on the balcony next to her. 

“Means ‘how’s the weather?’,” 

“Oh,” she leans over, lips puckered for a kiss. “Full of perfectly Parisian sunshine,”

“Try sayin’ that ten times fast,”

Alani swipes his pink, heart shaped sunglasses and slips them onto the bridge of her nose with a contented sigh. Ahead, the Eiffel tower stands proudly in the distance and the lenses of her glasses tint the entire scene in a picturesque rosy glow. 

“La Ville de L’amour,” she hums. “Did I say that right?”

“Oui,”

“Hey, you know what I saw on the room service menu?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, what?”

“Piña coladas,” Alani wiggles her brows. “Think they deliver at midnight?”

He chuckles lightly and his hand takes purchase on her knee. “They better,”

“Never had a Parisian piña colada. Sounds romantic, though.”

“Sure does, sweets.”

Alani stands and reaches for Harry’s hand. He accepts and rises to his feet, pulling her close. Below, the sounds of the city serenade them as they gently sway in the chilly breeze. When Harry feels Alani shiver, he hugs  her to his chest and rests his chin comfortably on the top of her head. She feels his steady heartbeat against her cheek and smiles softly, fingertips smoothing up and down his back. 

“Are you ready for Valentine’s Day surprise number one?” he asks, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes. 

She narrows her eyes. “Where are we going?”

Harry pulls back with a mischievous smile, hands still attached to hers, and leads them back inside.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Alani giggles but she doesn’t push. Instead, she happily follows him out of their room, down the hall, and into the bustling streets of Paris. 

We don’t know where we’re going 

But we know where we belong 

And oh we started 

Two hearts in one home 

It’s hard when we argue 

We’re both stubborn 

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature 

Wherever I go, you bring me home 

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road 

You bring me home

[ssamie]

two. SUNA RINTAROU

suna rintaro x fem! mitsuri reader

(kny x hq)

warnings: spelling mistakes,  3k+ words, italicized words/ sentences are her thoughts, mitsuri’s hair+eye color was used.

gen masterlist.      sakura mochi.

"atsumu-kun, osamu-kun.." she trailed off with a hesitant smile "i don't think i need you to be beside me the whole time.." she said

currently, she was walking into the gates of inarizaki high, hoping to have a lowkey and fun first day of school. she was hoping to make some friends along the way as well. but now it seems she can't do that because two towering men are looming beside her, sporting a stoic and intimidating look as they glared at anyone and everyone that dared to even breath near her.

"nonsense." osamu said with a light scoff

"we gotta protect ya from these rabid dogs" atsumu snarled, emphasising on the dehumanising nickname as he growled at the boys near them 

y/n simply sighed and chuckled lightly at his claim. "you're both acting like the rabid dogs, if anything.." she said. she watched them glare at the people around them as they entered the classroom. 

for such a short amount of time together, the three had already formed quite a strong bond. perhaps it was because she was so lovable and welcoming. always building them up like the sweet girl that she is. 

it was as if the twins had felt themselves softening for her. though atsumu flirted with her a lot, they both saw her as their little sister. 

"uwahh!! your school is so nice!" she gushed as she looked around the clean and polished room. "i've never been to a school this fancy before" she said 

"and your uniform is very pretty" she grinned gleefully as she patted down her skirt. "though it's a bit tight around certain areas.." she chuckled sheepishly

osamu and atsumu's head snapped towards her, their eyes widening as she slyly adjusted her white blouse around her bust and hip area. atsumu sucked in a deep breath as he turned away from her. he slapped the wall repeatedly as he silently screamed into his hand. 

"samu...i know we had a deal" atsumu started off "but after seeing that" he said. the blonde dramatically gestured to the pink and green haired girl. his face was red and his eyes were tearing up. 

"that was enough. it was enough to make me break our promise" atsumu said in a dramatically solemn tone 

"what the fuck are ya on about" osamu asked unamusedly 

"i can no longer see 'er as a sister.. i can only see.. THOSE EROTICALLY BEAUTIFUL CURVES-" 

"SHUT UP, YOU ILL-MANNERED DOG!" osamu cut him off with a kick to the stomach "yer fuckin disgusting, y/n' s like our sister! we established that" he scowled at his twin 

"BUT SHES NOT!! and she's SO FUCKIN PRET-" 

"you're so pretty l/n-chan!" a new voice filled the air 

"eh?? but you're so much prettier than me! your hair is so long and curly! and your eyes look like caramel!!" she replied flusteredly as she fawned over her classmate 

both twins snap their head toward her as they heard much more voices ensue. 

"ne, l/n-san.. do ya have a boyfriend?" one boy asked. the girl simply panicked over the question, vigorously shaking her head as she waved her hands dismissively 

"ah no! i don't have a boyfriend.. though i'll admit it would be nice to have one" she squeaked out bashfully 

of course, a few boys perked up from her statement and approached her. 

"i could be your boyf-" 

"oi." atsumu called out with a scowl "the hell are ya on about?" atsumu sneered at him as he stood tall, smirking mockingly at the boy as he wrapped an arm around y/n. 

"m-miya-san!" the boy squeaked out in surprise "um.. i was just gettin to know 'er that's all!" 

"tch." osamu scoffed "scram." 

"yep! we're leaving!" the boys announce as they timidly turn on their heels and leave 

"osamu-kun, atsumu-kun! why would you do that?!" she whisper shouted at them. her expression morphed into one of horror as she saw the other kids nervously stray away from her after the twins' outburst

"the kids are too scared to be friends with me now.." she sulked, resting her head on the desk as a gloomy aura surrounded her 

"okay.. that's our bad" atsumu said as he patted her back "well, look at this way!" he chuckled nervously as he sent osamu a glance 

"you can stick with us and we'll introduce you to our friends later on" he suggested with a smile 

just as fast as her mood died down, was as fast as it brightened up once again. she faced them with her pale green eyes, sparkling in excitement as she clasped her hands together 

"really? you'd do that for me?" she exclaimed 

"of course! anythin' for you, doll" atsumu cooed at her 

"actually.. why don't i introduce ya to one of 'em now?" atsumu mused as he spotted suna lazily trudging into the room 

the brown-haired boy was yawning, looking like he was already on the verge of passing out as he plopped down on his seat 

"please do!!" she nodded excitedly 

osamu eyed her and his twin warily before leaving them be and walking back to his desk. 

"suna!" atsumu called out as he held y/n's wrist in his hand "its too early for this" suna groaned out as he side eyed atsumu in annoyance 

"i want ya to meet someone" atsumu said with a grin "she's the girl my family's hostin' " 

"go away. i don't wanna meet-" suna cut himself off as his eyes caught a faint glimpse of pink from behind his friend. 

currently, y/n was hiding behind atsumu's towering form, holding back her squeals as she held her blushing cheeks in her hands. she had only managed to catch a small glimpse of this 'suna' atsumu was speaking to and yet she had already planned their whole wedding and their kid's gender reveal party in her head. 

'he's so.. HOT! AND PRETTY! AND COOL!' she panicked 

'his eyes look like a fox's! and his hair is so cute and perfectly messy and he's so-' 

she cut her thoughts short as she peeked once again to look at him. she swore she had felt herself short circuiting upon seeing him stand. this man was tall. 

her face drained color as atsumu held her by her shoulders and pushed her towards his friend. 

"this is y/n! she's our new housemate, and she wanted to make new friends soo..." atsumu cooed 

suna nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck, hunching over, as his olive green eyes raked down her form. "hey, the name's suna rintaro" he said as he stretched out a hand for her to shake 

"huh-oh um!" she stammered out as she shakily reached out to shake his hand "im l/n y/n" she said "it's nice to meet you, suna-kun"

she shook his hand with a flustered smile as she nervously picked at her skirt with her free hand 

"you too.." suna replies quite dryly

this caused her to panic even more. her mind was in shambles as she nervously dwells on the possibility that he hates her. though because of that, it caused her hands to fidget, which gained suna's attention. 

his fox like eyes averted to her skirt, which was getting badly crumpled the more she messed with it. 

his eyes subconsciously trailed down even further, and locked themselves on her tighs. 

"shit." suna muttered under his breath 

"hm? is something wrong, suna-kun?" she asked warily 

suna sighed through his nose and shook his head. he waved his hand dismissively as he sat back down on his seat "no, don't worry 'bout it" he said 

"i just got.. distracted" suna gulped as he watched her tighs press together. 

she nodded in understanding and waved him goodbye, assuming he's had enough of their conversation 

"oh, alright then.. i'll see you around, suna-kun" she said as she sent him one last fleeting glance 

"yeah, i'll see ya.." 

"y/n-chan, you can come sit with us 'til ya find some new friends to sit with" osamu suggested as he walked past her 

"uwah!! thanks so much, osamu-kun!!" she exclaimed as she gave him a side-hug "i was hoping you'd be fine with me joining since i even made you some mochi!" she said as she hugged her huge bento to her chest 

"dont be silly. i like bein around ya" osamu said with the softest chuckle 

though his soft aura faded as he gave atsumu a disgusted glare, and avoided suna who was taking pictures incase anything happens 

"its just them that peeves me" he muttered through gritted teeth

"well, we can go ahead of you want?" she proposed. osamu looked down at her and nodded "yeah, let's go" 

and so, the pair made their way to the cafeteria. along the way, osamu made sure to give her a small tour to make sure she won't get lost next time. 

"we're here" he announced as he pushed through the doors, revealing the slightly packed room "ooh! there's so many people" she mutters out in interest 

"mhm.." osamu hums along "oh, and there's kita-san and aran.." 

her pale green eyes follow osamu's finger, which was pointing to a certain table where two boys sat and talked amongst themselves. 

"let's go-" 

"wahh!! osamu-kun!!" she squeaked and gripped onto his arm "that one with the gray and black hair is so cute!! and the taller one with darker skin is so handsome!!" she gushed 

osamu's expression turned into one of dread as he watched her oggle at his teammates with literal heart eyes 

"and they're both so tall and adorable!" she gushed even more as her blush worsened by the second. her grip also tightened the more she fawned, which left osamu's arm aching. 

osamu felt as if his arm could burst if her grip gets even tighter than it already was 

"why don't ya go greet them, y/n.." osamu suggested with a strained smile 

"d-do you think i can do it??" she asked him "i'll be too embarrassed to be infront two handsome boys" she muttered worriedly to herself 

"then how come yer quite comfortable with me and tsumu-" 

"i can do it!" she ignored his question as she puffed her chest and breathed in deeply 

"wait- are ya sayin' were not handsome enough to leave ya all chummy-" 

"ah, samu! come join us!" aran called out as he waved his hand to get his attention 

on instinct, she hid herself behind osamu's broad back, nervously fiddling with her braided hair as her other hand nervously grips her bento "i can't do it, osamu-kun!!" she hissed out 

osamu ignored her words, as well as her nails clawing at his back. he simply dragged her along as he approached the table where kita and aran sat. 

"oh, who's your friend?" aran asks with a kind smile as he peeks over osamu's shoulder to peer at the pink and green haired girl "introduce yer self" he urged her as he presented her to the boys 

"ahm! im y/n!" she squeaked out flusteredly "i hope you don't mind me joining you for lunch.." she said with a sheepish smile as her fingers tapped on her bento 

"not at all, please sit down" kita said in a polite manner as he slightly bowed his head in sign of respect 

she sat down beside osamu and quietly hummed to herself, slyly stealing glances at the boys as she gushed over them in her head. "ah, y/n-san. samu told us you moved to hyogo just a few days ago" aran started up a conversation 

'he's talking!' she gushed 'his voice!! mHhhMh' 

"ah, yes.. i'll be staying with the miya's temporarily while my estate is being constructed" she explained 

"that's nice" aran chuckled "though i wonder how ya could bare to live in the same roof as those two" 

as if on cue, atsumu came running in, sporting a huge grin as he hides his hand behind his back. "y/n-chaaann! i got ya somethin'!" he exclaimed "really?! what is it?!" she asked back, just as excitedly 

"mochi!" atsumu exclaimed with a smile as he pulled out a pack of sakura mochi 

the three boys sweat drop as they both cheer and give each other high fives, smiling like children as they share the mochis with each other 

"yay!" they cheered 

"they get along quite well.." kita murmurs 

"..i could probably sell this to the fan girls.." suna muttered as he inspected the pictures he took of atsumu smiling 

y/n froze upon hearing his voice, her pale green eyes turning hazy as she bashfully covered her mouth to hide her smile "its suna-kun!!" she silently squealed to herself 

"he looks so dreamy" she sighed lovingly, resting her chin on her hand as she watched suna walk towards their table while typing down on his phone 

"he looks normal to me" kita chimed in as he, too, watched suna mindlessly walk towards them

'ah, he's so close! kita-san is so close.. i could feel his body heat!' she chanted on her mind 

'and he smells so good!' she groaned internally as she basked in his sweet but masculine scent 

osamu noticed her eyes leave suna, instead they were now planted on the side of kita's face as she shuffles around to contain her excitement  "dont worry 'bout it" osamu said "she's like this with everyone" 

"she's just that nice, i guess" he shrugged 

suna then arrived at their table, sitting beside her yet still not looking up from his phone. 

'oh.' she thought to herself  ‘he's sitting next to me..?' 

she looked beside her to check. just in case she was dreaming. she whipped her head around, and met eyes with suna rintaro himself. she blinked one. twice. her long and thick lashes fluttering as she stared at his olive green orbs. 

she has concluded that she was in fact not dreaming. 

"y/n..?" atsumu asked warily. he was more than aware that she could have short circuited right then and there. surprisingly, she didn't freak out. she simply looked at atsumu, looking like her soul is slowly leaving her body as she sent him an empty smile. 

"yes, atsumu-kun?" she asked monotonously 

"you alright?" atsumu asked with a wonky grin 

"of course." 

it was a lie. 

she was not alright. in fact, she was currently hyperventilating. her heart was beating at an abnormal pace, and she was sure she had lost all focus to continue her total concentration breathing. 

'HE'S SITTING NEXT TO ME?!?!?! OH MY GOD.'

her widened eyes looked down at their tighs, which were currently touching due to the limited space on the bench 

'MY THIGHS ARE TOUCHING HIS?!?!' she panicked internally 

'that had to mean something right? he's gotta be my husband in the future or something right? right??' 

"oh, you're y/n, aren't ya?" suna mused as he bit into an oh-so-familiar looking mochi "tsumu gave me some of this." he said as he showed her two more pieces of mochi 

"yer real good at cooking." he complimented with a curt nod 

"thank you!" she beamed cheerfully at him 

'cooking.. good cooking skills is one of a wife's admirable trait..' she chanted 

'i must be his future wife.. it all makes sense now..' 

she nodded to herself, agreeing to her assumptions with a hazy smile grazing her lips. she pulled out her bento and opened it, revealing an ungodly amount of food which looked like it could feed the whole volleyball team 

"y-y/n-san.." aran chuckled "that's a lot of food. are ya sure ya can finish that all?" he asked with a worried smile 

"of course!" she replied with a smile. she then started chomping on her lunch, humming giddily as she stuffs her mouth with food 

"oh, suna-kun.. w-would you like some more mochi?" she asked with a determined look on her face 

she stacked three pieces on a stick and handed it to him, waiting for him to take it with a small smile on her lips. suna side eyed her. his fox like eyes staring at the mochi in her hands, then her face, which was perfectly framed by her dual toned hair 

and he swears he didn't mean to.. but his eyes trailed down to her chest. and her tighs. 

now, suna wasn't someone to disrespect somebody like that. but he knows a total hottie when he sees one. pretty face, thick thighs, god tier personality. its all there. 

"sure" he said with a nod 

now again, he wasn't one to act on things like that. 

but when a pretty girl is feeding you mochi, you gotta do what you gotta do. 

so he opened his mouth and chomped on the treat all at once. 

"e-eh?" she muttered in surprise as his teeth pull the mochis off the stick, leaving it slightly covered by his saliva. "thwanks" suna said, though it was muffled by the treats in his mouth 

"..." 

she couldn't say or do anything except freeze up and stare flusteredly at the saliva-laced stick in her hand. 

"can i have that onigiri?" osamu asked, breaking the silence, as he reached out to snatch her onigiri off her bento

"a-ahm- uh-" she stammered as she blinked aggressively to try and contain herself. osamu didn't wait for her answer as he swiftly snatched the onigiri and chomped on it.

the gray haired male didn't say a word as he placed his hand on her nape to turn her head back towards her food. he also took the stick from her and threw it away, much to her displeasure.

"so.. how was everyone's day so far..?" kita asked them to break the silence

aran laughed at this and shook his head in amusement. he pointed to the girl who was as still as a statue, looking like her soul has ascended to heaven and had personally vibed with god. 

"is she okay?" aran asked with a chuckle

"oi! y/n-chan! ya better not like suna, yer still my pretty girl, aight?!" atsumu exclaimed as he aggressively growled at suna

"as if she'd choose you." osamu scoffs

"oh, yer askin' for it-"

and that was how another fight between the miya twins ensued.