#that he originally had brown eyes but one of em turned blue from all the eldritch shenaniganry

[articskele]

Been thinking about a plant themed Micolash. Beecolash if you will

Like he's got a flower over one of his eyes, my first thought was a white lily with that gradient to blue in the center?

Maybe he's always being followed around by bees bc the Mensis cage is some kinda honeycomb situation, something something Nicolas Cage bee meme

Instead of spamming you with that tentacle attack he spams you with vines

[bibiwrld]

ANARCHY🎸⚡️| Hobie Brown

previous: –one.

–two.

SASHA'S POV

God, I felt so alive.

I knew none of their songs, but I was rocking on.

"I DON'T CARE WHERE JUST FAR!" The tall man with wicks screamed into the mic, strumming the living hell out of his guitar.

"AAAWWWAAAYYYY." A blonde girl sang background vocals while also strumming her guitar.

"I DON'T CARE!" He screamed into the mic one more time, before dropping to his knees and shredding his guitar for his solo.

He looked godly under the red and blue lights. He shook his head, making his wicks move with him.

All of the band members played their instruments and thrashed, the audience copying their movements.

The last note he strummed, echoed throughout the venue and he slowly rose to his feet.

"FAAAAARRRRR!!!!" He screamed and continued shredding.

"AAAWWWAAAYYYY!!"

"Sasha?" It was him, my crush...my ex crush? "What are you doing here? You didn't answer any of my texts. I was wondering why you didn't come to class today to present our project together."

I was at a loss for words, I didn't want to see him.

"Who's the hottie?" A friend of his came up from behind. "Oh is this the one you were gonna fuck?"

I felt so embarrassed. I pushed through the crowd, leaving the venue. It was freezing out here.

I looked across the street at a bar. I'm not really a drinker, but a few drinks wouldn't hurt.

HOBIE'S POV

"You were amazing out there, Hobie." Pav playfully punched me in my shoulder.

I wiped my face off from the sweat with a hanky. "I know, 's what I do. Every one of ya did amazin' out there."

"Thanks Hobie." Gwen and Miles said in unison.

"Yeah you guys were sooooo good together." Pav gushed and softly pushed Gwen and Miles together.

We were walkin' back to our tour bus. Miguel was outside waitin' for us.

"5 minutes over the original set list time." His arms were crossed.

"It was only 5 minutes." Miles said innocently.

Miguel sighed.

"Let me guess, you've ran out of 'em stress balls, haven't ya bruv?" I smirked at him.

He glared at me.

I put my hands up in defense and smiled. "Just takin' a piss, bruv. 'm headed over to the little pub or whatever they call it here for a bevvy."

"You mean bar?" Gwen said with a raised brow.

"Whateva." I waved her off. "Hold this for me boss man." I took my guitar off and threw it at Miguel and he caught it.

He glared at me. "Be back by 1:30, all of you."

"Yeah yeah." I walked off.

"Pavitr, make sure they all get back here." Miguel said.

"Yes sir." Pavitr answered in a joyful tone.

"So underage drinking?" Gwen questioned.

"Well drink a cup of OJ, 's not my problem." I crossed the street.

Miles chuckled.

I opened the door and it was quite a big place.

People were drunk and singin' karaoke, some dancin' and some just sittin' at a table just drinkin'.

I went straight to the bar and made eye contact with the bartender.

I put two fingers up. "Two shots of bourbon."

The bartender nodded.

I looked beside me and saw a girl staring into space.

"Ya okay over there?" I put both hands in the pockets of my vest.

Her head slowly turned towards me.

Wow, she was a peng little ting.

She smiled softly, she must've been drunk off her arse.

"Here you go." The bartender slid two shots towards me.

I slid her $10. "How much she done had to drink?"

"About 10."

"She's paid yet?"

She shook her head.

"I got it for her." I slid a $50.

I downed both of my shots at the same time and looked back over at the girl.

She was lookin' at me.

"Say..what's ya name?"

"Sa..Sasha." She slurred.

"Pretty name. Name's Hobie. Why you sittin' there drinkin' away? Something' botherin' ya?" I took a seat beside her.

"Yeah.."

"What's the problem, love?" I was honestly concerned.

"It's..a lo-long story." She sighed.

" 'm up for it." I leaned closer.

Next part: –three.

[brave-and-gentle]

Golden Cage: Chapter 1

An AoT fic, original characterxJean Kirstein

Enjoy, please let me know if you like! -EB

Robin stood in line with the other cadets just like her dance teacher taught her – a string was pulling up on her spine. Tilt your chin slightly up, but not too far. After taking a knife to her long, thick hair, Robin's head felt five pounds lighter. Before entering training, she kept running her fingers through her frizzy brown curls, trying to get used to its new length.

“Hey, moptop!” Sadies screamed at a blonde boy only a few inches taller than Robin.

“Sir!”

“What do they call you, maggot?”

“Armin Arlert from Shiganshina, sir!” Robin stiffened. The town that the Titans had finally broken through and ravaged. Robin heard from the meetings her father held at their estate that the Garrison team wasn't prepared at all.

“Wow, seriously? Why would your parents curse you with such a dumb name?”

“It was my grandfather, sir!” Was. His grandfather must have died in the Titan attack.

“Cadet Arlert! Why is a runt like you here?”

“To help humanity overcome the Titans!” Armin's voice cracked on the word “Titans.”

“That's delightful to hear! You'll be a great light snack for 'em. Row three, about face, runt!”

Sadies grabbed Armin's face and turned him around. He searched for his next victim. He approached a tall boy with ash brown hair.

“What do we have over here?”

“Jean Kirstein, from the Trost District, sir!”

“And why are you here, cadet?”

“To join the military police sir, the best of the best.” Robin didn't dare turn her head to look at Jean, but she imagined a smug smile on his face.

“That's nice. You want to live in the interior, do you?”

“Yes!” Jean exclaimed. Arrogant idiot.

*WHAM*

Out of the corner of her eye, Robin could just barely see Keith headbutt Jean.

“No one told you to sit, recruit! If you can't handle this Kirstein, then you can forget about joining the military police!”

Sadies stalked over to another boy nearby.

“What the hell is wrong with your face, you smiling idiot?”

“Marco Bodt, at your service sir, from Jinae, south side of Wall Rose. I aim to join the military police and give life and limb in service to the king!”

Robin broke composure and rolled her eyes. It was an open secret among the nobility and wealthy merchants that the king was nothing but a puppet. Marco would be sorely disappointed if he ever met him. The mystery and prestige was all for show.

“Well then. That makes you an idealistic fool. And a rube. You want the truth? The only use for your life and limbs is for titan fodder!” Sadies whipped his head toward Robin's direction. “Did I tell you to move your eyes, cadet? Don't think I didn't see that!”

Robin froze. Shit. She didn't dare move her eyes again as Sadies marched toward her. “What's your name and where are you from, smartass?” Robin had never heard a voice so calm, yet so menacing. Sadies towered over her. Robin's head barely reached his elbow height.

“Robin Schultz, sir! From Gelders . . . sir!” Technically, Robin was from the Schultz Estate, but she named the town closest to their family lands. Predictably, a few cadets sucked in a breath of air. Kids from the interior rarely joined the cadets. The last interior kid to join the cadets was about five years ago. Robin heard a rumor that the boy only joined to impress an heiress he was smitten with. And it worked – he graduated in the top ten, joined the MPs, and married the girl. He was forced to resign after they found out he bribed his way to the top.

“An interior princess, huh?” Sadies patronized her. He leaned over to stare just inches from Robin's dark blue eyes. Her knees shook in the new cadet boots. “And why on earth did you end up here?”

“Because I wanted to do something bigger than myself, sir!” Robin tried to match the intensity of Sadies, but her voice shook. That wasn't the whole truth, but it was close enough.

“HA! The Titans are certainly bigger than you, princess pipsqueak, you're in the right place.”

Sadies turned away to yell at the boy next to her, something about a cotton ball head, but Robin barely heard him as the blood roared in her ears, recovering from the Keith Sadies initiation experience.

“Hey you, what do you think you're doing?” All eyes turned to a taller girl, munching on a potato. What in the hell? The girl looked completely unbothered. “You are officially on my shit list! Just who in the hell are you?” Sadies belowed.

“Sasha Braus from Dauper village, at your service! Reporting for duty, sir!” Sasha saluted with potato still in hand.

“Sasha Braus, huh? And what is that you're clutching in your right hand?”

“A steamed potato! It sat there in the mess hall begging to be eaten, sir!

“The theft, I understand. But here? Why eat it here of all places?”

“It looked quite delicious, and it was getting cold. So I gave it shelter in my stomach, sir.” Robin bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Why? I can't comprehend? Why would you eat that potato?”

“Are you asking me why people eat potatoes? I'm surprised you don't know, sir.” Sasha hesitated before breaking the potato in half. “Here sir, have half.”

“Have half? Really?”

~

After listening to Sadies scream at the cadets for the next hour, Robin stood on the mess hall porch with Conny, Mina, Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. Though she quickly learned their names, Robin didn't know how to approach a conversation with them. All her friends growing up had been assigned to her, whether or not she liked them.

“Man, I thought Sadies was going to kill Potato Girl,” Conny said. He turned out to be the “cotton ball” standing next to her earlier.

“I know. What a hell of a first day,” Eren said.

“Should we go run with her?” Robin gazed at Sasha, whose running form had rotted away. She was hunched over and her arms swayed from side to side.

“You want to run until sundown?” Conny looked at Robin with incredulous eyes. Robin shrugged.

“She looks like she's having a rough time. I hate running alone.” Sundown was still about two hours away, longer than Robin had ever run.

“Suit yourself. I'm going to make sure I'm well rested before my first day of training.” Conny turned away and walked inside the mess hall, followed by the others.

Robin huffed to herself. Conny had a point. They hadn't even started training yet, did she really want to wipe herself out the night before? But for whatever reason, her heart wrenched thinking about Sasha running all night by herself. Whatever, she thought. I'll deal.

As Sasha started to round the corner closer to the mess hall, Robin bolted down the stairs and waved her hand at her.

“Hey Sasha! Want a running buddy?” Running buddy? Really?

“Oh,” Sasha gasped for air. “Do you have any food?” Her brown eyes shimmered with hope.

“Sadly no,” Robin smirked and fell into step with Sasha. “But I bet we can find some as soon as the sun goes down.”

“PLEASE,” Sasha groaned and gazed at the sky, as if bread would rain down on them.

Each minute seemed to last an eternity. Robin stared at the sunset, willing it to fade faster and faster. At first, her thighs relished in releasing pent up energy, but nearly an hour later, they screamed at her to stop. Robin and Sasha barely spoke, silently agreeing that it was best to save all their energy for the next breath. And the next. And the next. And the next.

At long last, the sun disappeared behind the horizon. As soon as the pair reached the cadet bunk house, they collapsed onto the ground.

“Finally!” Sasha let out in between heaving breaths.

“We did it,” Robin agreed, “But never again.” She flipped on to her back and stared at the stars dotting the black sky.

“AHHHH!!!”

Robin jerked up to see Sasha practically fly through the air and tackle a blonde girl around Robin's size – Christa?

“I'm sorry there isn't more, that's all I could take,” Christa said as Sasha gobbled up the bread. “Hey, hang on, you should really drink a little water first.” She held out a water bottle.

“I'll take it, thank you,” Robin gasped and chugged the water as soon as Christa handed it to her.

“You're a goddess, aren't you? GLORY ONTO YOU!” Sasha bowed down in front of Christa.

“Hey, just what are you two girls up to?” A tall, dark haired girl walked toward them.

“Oh, sorry Robin, here's a roll!” Sasha came up for air, ignoring the newcomer, and shoved bread in Robin's face whilst swallowing another one whole. Robin laughed and accepted the bread. It seemed like she had finally made her first friend.

[ghost-of-you]

Catch 22 - CH - Part 6

Paring: Calum Hood x Original Female Character

Word Count: 13k

Warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sexual activities.

Author’s note: okay so, this is actually the reason it took me so long to update this cuz i thought i was done when i started posting it, but then i read the whole thing and i absolutely hated this chapter since most of it was actually some of the first things I wrote and my writing evolved a lot in the past few years, so i trashed it and decided it to rewrite it, but that turned out to be a bigger challenge than i expected cuz i was trying really hard to get it right cuz this is important, but here we are now. I'm sorry in advance tho.

The title for this one is from talk fast by 5 Seconds of Summer

read it on ao3

Series Masterlist

playlist

part 5 part 7

__________

I'll take what I can get from you.

2017

Emma doesn’t know how she got roped into this. Clearly, the years did nothing to dull the way Calum could get her to agree to anything. And all he has to do is look at her with big brown eyes and a slight pout on his lips as he promises it would be “just like old times” to get her to agree. From what she gathered, they were all back home enjoying the first break in years, but she had been drowning in schoolwork, so she had had to decline every time they called her trying to make plans. 

Saying no over the phone was hard, but saying no after running into Calum in the supermarket with no warning after a week from hell was just plain impossible. At that moment it was possible she would agree to anything he said just to get the warm feeling in her chest from the smile he gave her again. And that just makes the decision stupid, considering that looking up at him, soft and cozy in a dark blue hoodie in the middle of the frozen aisle, smiling warmly despite the tired eyes as he walked towards her just made it clear to her that she’s not over him. Not even slightly. 

Maybe that's why she's dreading every step she takes towards the house the address Calum had texted her led her to, anxiety making her bite her nails in one hand as the other types an "I'm here" into Calum's chat. But she still laughs at the speed the chat goes from delivered to seen and how the door flies open seconds later.

"You made it!" He cheers, stepping out the door, throwing an arm up, his other hand wrapped loosely around the neck of a beer bottle, making her laugh.

"Told you I would," she tells him as he pulls her into a one-armed hug, one arm around her waist, the other holding the beer away, and that leaves her tingling to ask him to hug her properly and just stand there in his doorway. And that is when she knows she’s screwed.

But she still follows him through the house as he asks what she wants to drink and leans against the counter as he winks at her before fishing a bottle matching his out of the fridge, sliding it towards her after popping it open and leaning on the counter across from her.

“It’s weird watching you drink,” he laughs as she takes a long sip with a pleased sigh, bringing his own to his lips.

“Hey, no judging,” she teases, narrowing her eyes at him, “it’s been a long week, I deserve a beer if I want one,” she adds with a chuckle.

“There’s plenty more if you want more than one, love.” The pet name slips from his lips so casually, Emma feels the need to drink more so she wouldn’t react. They had casually interacted more than a few times since they agreed to be friends again, but he had exclusively called her Emma since she told him not to call her love that night at the club. Not love, not Em, just Emma. It made her feel uneasy if she was completely honest. She had introduced herself as Em when they first met, after a very giggly Michael, who had dragged Calum by his sleeve over to her at one of his birthday parties, had proudly announced that she was trouble and that’s what he called her until whatever had shifted for him that made him start calling her love.

“Might take you up on that one,” she says, nodding the bottle at him and he nods his back at her.

“Platinum?” He asks, a hand reaching for a strand of her hair, “I kinda expected something crazier,” he jokes, twisting the strand between his finger before tucking it behind her ear, the action making her cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, I had to take some pictures for uni and mum kept trying to convince me I didn’t want colorful hair in those, so,” she pauses, motioning dramatically around her head, “I went with no color,” she adds with a flare and he laughs.

“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Not you, too, she wanted me to dye it black, I don’t want black hair,” she complains, sounding offended and he raises an eyebrow at her.

“What’s wrong with black hair?”

“Your hair is not black, your hair is dark brown, like your eyes,” she blurts out, and he cocks his head to the side, looking like he's about to say something, "black hair is great, I just don't like it on me,” she adds, before he can say it and he laughs.

"You've had black hair before," he frowns at her and she laughs.

"Dark brown," she says and he gives an unimpressed look before chuckling, "for real, I think that shade was named something really dumb like warm brownie or melted chocolate or whatever."

“Brownies, you know, funny-” Calum starts talking but Emma’s attention is stolen by the sound of little paws running through the door, making her gasp as she moves closer to the dog and drops to her knees, patting her thighs to get his attention.

“Oh my god, hi,” she laughs when the dog starts to climb up her lap, hands moving all around the soft fur, “why didn’t you tell me you had a dog?” She glances at Calum, but the dog starts to lick her face to get her attention back, “hey, baby, what’s your name?” She says with a baby voice, scratching his neck.

“It’s Duke,” Calum offers and Emma grins at him before turning back to the dog.

“Hi, Duke, hi,” she coos, dropping back, sitting down properly, excitedly petting him until Duke decided he didn’t want to be in her lap anymore a few minutes later.

“I love him,” she says, watching the dog move back where he came from, “I’m sorry you were saying something,” she turns to Calum, who’s watching her with an amused expression, “I don’t remember what it was anymore,” she admits while getting up and he chuckles.

“I was gonna tell you a story that ended with me saying your brownies are still the best I’ve ever had,” he says, scratching his neck, and she stops smiling, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Of course you only missed me ‘cause of my baking skills,” she teases, but keeping her face serious, watching as the alarm grows in his face for a few moments before breaking down laughing, “relax, Hood, I’m just kidding, you should see the look on your face.”

“You’re evil,” he pouts at her, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

“Call me evil and I won’t offer to make some.”

“But that would make you evil,” he teases, and she nods.

“Touché,” she grants, hands moving to her hair and pulling it up on a ponytail, “do you want me to make some, though? They’re real easy if I can find everything I need,” she offers and he grins at her.

“My kitchen is your kitchen,” he says, motioning his arms around and she laughs, moving so she can look through the cabinets to find what she needs.

“You did propose the first time you had them, that should at least give me kitchen privileges,” she laughs, standing on her tiptoes to open a cabinet above the sink before turning her head back to Calum, "can you grab that for me?" She asks, pointing at a metal bowl just out of her reach and he reaches over her, not touching her but close enough that she could feel his warmth all over, making her breath hitch as she murmurs a thank you when he hands it to her. 

“Can I help?” He asks, following her as she moves towards the fridge.

“And have you learn how to make them? Nah,” she teases, nodding at the counter, “just sit and wait.”

“I feel bad not helping,” he says, sitting down while she opens more cabinets, searching for what she needs.

“I currently raiding your kitchen, and you feel bad?” She asks, looking at him and he shrugs.

“I don’t mind.” He watches her as she moves around, somehow making her aware of every move she makes. 

“They’ll be done soon,” Emma tells him after closing the oven, moving to the counter and hoisting herself up onto it next to where Calum’s sitting, and he nods, smiling at her and it’s hard for her to stay in the moment, not to be transported to times when being around him was as easy as breathing. He looks like he is about to say something when someone else walks in and she lets out an excited squeak as she jumps off the counter so she could hug Ashton. Luke arrives next, and she stands there studying him, the blonde curly mess in his head making her smile, as he did the same before hugging him, whispering, “hair, amazing, I love it,” making him giggle.

She’s pulling the tray out of the oven, watching Ashton intently as he tells a story involving a pub, some broken bottles and short temper when Michael walks in, making her all but drop the pan on the counter before throwing herself into his chest, making him huff out an “ouch,” holding her tightly to him.

The day goes quickly as a fascinated and somewhat tipsy Emma listens to every story they offer her, eagerly drinking in every detail they would give her. Until it all becomes overwhelming. 

That’s how she finds herself leaning against the wall in Calum’s backyard, trying to gather herself.

“Did you get lost on the way back?” Calum teases, leaning next to her, fingers playing with a cigarette pack, tapping it against his palm.

“The house is not that big, I just wanted some air,” she chuckles, glancing at him, watching as he pulls a cigarette and twists it between his fingers, “then I got distracted,” she adds, pointing at the sky, the setting sun painting it orange and pink behind dark grey clouds, making her want to keep looking at it.

“You okay?” He asks, and she can feel him watching her but she keeps looking at the sky as she nods, “I can still read you, love,” he steps in front of her, getting in her line of sight as he pushed the cigarette back into the pack and pack into his pocket, “and you were always a bad liar,” he adds, eyes trained on her face, and she crosses her arms across her chest, staring back at him as she tries to figure out what to say.

“Why did you ask me here? I don’t…” she pauses, exhaling loudly, “fit.” She tilts her head, letting out a small huff, “I thought about blowing you off because I need to study for my electromag final and you’re playing Rock in Rio next month, this,” she motions back and forth between them, making him frown, “this doesn’t make any sense.”

“I thought you were having fun,” he cocks his head, watching her carefully and she sighs.

“I am, that’s the issue,” she says, ducking her head.

"How is that an issue?"

"Because I've spent four years missing you,” she says, looking back at him, and the way he’s looking at her makes her notice what she had said and she clears her throat, “all of you,” she adds, pressing her lips together, running a hand through her hair, “and you know, I'm not exactly Ms. Popularity, I'm not good with people, I don't have that many friends and I just realized how much I wish I still had you."

"You definitely have Mike, he talks about you constantly, and I know you call Ash the time," he jokes, making her huff and rub her face. "You have me," he adds, voice low, and she glances at him, "you can talk to me any time." 

Emma wants to protest, say she doesn't have them, that she can't talk to him, that the afternoon was great but also torture but she's afraid she will start crying if she tries to speak, so she slides against the wall, hiding her face in her hands when she hits the ground.

"I can't, though," she shakes her head when he kneels in front of her.

"Why not?" He asks, sitting down too, but she just shakes her head, "come on, love, you can't keep bottling things up, it will drive you crazy."

"Nice of you to think it hasn't already," she chews on her bottom lip, trying to get a grip on her feelings as she feels her eyes start to water. "What do you want me to say?" She sighs when he raises an eyebrow at her.

"What's bothering you. You used to tell me these things," he says, voice small as he looks at her and she purses her lips.

“We used to do a lot of things, Cal,” she jokes, and he gives her an unimpressed look, "I already told you."

"Why do you think you don't fit with-" he pauses, knowing they both know he was about to say me before adding, "us anymore?"

"Because you weren't there, and now there's just,” she exhales sharply, frowning, “too much space," she purses her lips, motioning vaguely, feeling the tears start to fall, and she groans, looking up but looking back at Calum when she feels his thumb catching a tear on her chin, and he looks heartbroken, "I don't know how to talk to you anymore."

"Why not?"

"Going to you was my first instinct, you know?" She lets out a watery chuckle, looking down, "your number was actually the first one I dialed when I found out I got in," she rubs her cheeks, trying to get the tears to stop, exhaling sharply before letting out a watery chuckle, "which was ridiculous since we weren't even talking. I just wanted to tell you, but I couldn't, so I called Ash, It's why I used to call him so much back then, he was always so nice about it," she sighs, chewing on her bottom lip, fidgeting with her bracelet, "but I stopped calling, and now we're here," she says, looking at him and he tilts his head, eyes soft as he watches her, clearly trying to find something to say, but not wanting to interrupt her, "and I'm just so tired of-" she trails off because she's not sure what she's tired of. She's definitely tired of missing him. She's tired of feeling like she's begging for a space that's not hers anymore.

"Of?" He looks like he's trying to be encouraging, but she shakes her head, hiding her face in her hands, taking a deep breath as she tries to stop crying, but her efforts are rendered useless when Calum whispers, “come here,” pulling her to him, leaving her sitting on the ground between his legs, a hand moving soothingly down her back, as the other pulls her legs across one of his, making her cling to him and let herself cry, leaning into his chest as his arms tighten around her. 

It's all terrifying, really, that even though she's breaking down, somehow while being wrapped in the protective bubble Calum's creating around them, she's not sure she's ever safer. And she just wants to stay there, pretend nothing else matters, pretend they can be friends, pretend he can still be a source of comfort, that this is not going to haunt her at night once he's gone, and breathe him in as she holds on hoping that if she holds on tightly enough it won’t end as badly as every thought in her head is telling her it will. 

And that’s what she does, she lets him hold her, hand fisting his shirt as he tries to soothe her, his chin resting on top of her head, his arms wrapped securely around her.

“Mate, what the fuck happened?” Michael asks from the door, and Calum looks up at him, his hold on her loosening as he does and she lets out a whine from the back of her throat, her grip on him getting tighter, hiding her face in his neck because she's not ready for him to let go yet.

"I'm just letting her do what she needs," Calum tells him, adjusting his arms around Emma as she shifts against him and Michael kneels next to them, and she hears them whispering to each other, but stays focused on her breathing, trying to get herself to stop crying so she could let go.

"Em?" Michael's voice is soft as he touches her arm and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before pushing away from Calum, turning so she could untangle herself from him as she looks at the blonde, half expecting Calum to pull away too, but his hands stay a soothing presence on her skin.

"Why are you calling me Em? You're M, I'm trouble," she tries to joke, motioning between them, a forced smile on stained cheeks as her voice almost fails her and he gives her a pointed look.

"Emma."

"That's your serious talk voice, I don't want the serious talk," she shakes her head, and she feels Calum's breath on her hair as he lets out a huff behind her.

"You know you can talk to me, right? I may take a while to answer but will always answer," he tells her, green eyes staring intently at her.

"Damnit Michael, I just stopped crying, don't make me start again," she complains, pouting at him.

"You're an even weirder drunk than I imagined," he chuckles as she wipes her cheeks and she scrunches her nose at him, "you want me to take you home?" He asks and she starts to protest, "I see these idiots all the time, trust me you'd be doing me a favor actually," he adds, looking at Calum, who flips him off.

"If you're sure, then yeah," she nods and he offers her a hand as he stands up pulling them up and she feels Calum's hands hovering over her as he gets up too. He looks like he wants to say something, but before Emma can ask, Michael's arm is around her shoulders, guiding her away and the next thing she knows she's sitting on his passenger seat, giving him directions as he chats. 

"You do know you can talk to me right?" He asks when the car comes to a stop in front of her place and she nods.

"Yeah, I just talk myself out of it sometimes," she admits chewing on the inside of her lip.

"Well, you don't have to," green eyes equally soft and concerned. 

"Thank you," she says, feeling weirdly vulnerable.

"I'll check in later, okay?" He tells and she kisses his cheek before getting out of the car, and it's only when she has her keys on the door that she hears the cars speeding away.

_______

The sound of the doorbell ringing startles Emma, her head darting up before she scrambles to her feet, moving to the door, and grabbing her keys, unsure of what to expect, but struggling to keep a neutral expression when she sees the person standing on the front gate.

"Cal?" She frowns at him, watching as he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets - is wearing a jacket over his hoodie? - and wondering why he's there, how he knew where to go.

"Mike told me," Calum answers the question before she can ask and she tilts her head to the side, studying him, "can I come in?" He asks and she nods, pulling the gate behind her back as she moves so he could walk in.

"Yeah, sure, sorry," she mumbles as he does, leading him in, feeling extremely self-conscious, fisting her hands at the ends of the sleeves of the way too big sweatshirt she has on and rubbing her eyes. Did she even remember to brush her hair that morning? "Do you want water or something? The something is also water, ‘cause I don’t think I have anything else," she laughs, moving them to the kitchen, but he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

"Are you okay?" He asks when she spins in place looking around and she looks back at him. He looks out of place leaning in the doorway that leads to her kitchen, glancing at the table covered in papers behind her.

"Yeah, why?" She asks and he cocks his head studying her.

"You weren't answering, and you look a bit off."

"I have no idea where my phone is," she laughs, and it sounds a bit manic as she runs her hand through her hair glancing around, but she really can’t remember where she put it.

“How long have you been buried under that pile of books?" He asks, nodding at the table.

"I don’t know, since I woke up?" She says, face twisting as she thinks, "it's been a while."

"Did you even eat today? Coffee doesn't count," he says, pointing at the empty mug when she starts and she gives him a sheepish smile.

"Do noodles count?" 

"I'm gonna say no, 'cause it was probably too long ago," he jokes and she shrugs noncommittally, "you wanna go somewhere?" He offers and her heart speeds up in her chest.

"You wanna make me lose another night of studying, Hood?" She teases, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I could help you study if you want."

"I appreciate the offer but I don't think you can help me," she says, scratching her neck but he seems offended. 

"Hey!"

"Oh my god, no," she exclaims, shaking her head, "I’m taking a few practical ones that I think you would be super helpful, really, it's just that this is impossible and I'm drowning, so yeah, let's go do something before I start crying, 'cause I might now that you made me realize how long I've been sitting there."

"That bad?" He chuckles, expression softening, and she stretches her arms above her head.

"You have no idea."

"Let's go then, my treat," he smiles at her, nodding his head towards the door and she feels dazzled for a second watching him.

“Just make sure it's something greasy, and you have me for the night,” she says and he chuckles, before nodding, “but give me a minute to put on something socially acceptable, thought," she tells him, looking down at herself and the way her sweatshirt was covering her shorts. She sure as hell can't leave the house with him looking like a damn model with the leather jacket and the tight jeans and the perfect hair and that face while she looks like a college kid on laundry day. Which she totally is. "You don't have to just stand there you know? You can sit if you somehow find a chair under the pile of paper," she jokes as she moves past him, pointing at the table and making him laugh.

Once the door to her room is closed, she looks up at the ceiling, giving herself a few seconds to freak out. Calum is in her house. He's in her kitchen. Just standing there like this is normal. And she has no idea how to act as she pulls the sweatshirt over her head moving toward her wardrobe. She tries to tell herself that it's just Calum. She knows him. But he's not her Calum anymore. No more awkward haircuts or questionable outfit choices. The nickname rockstar never seemed more fitting and somehow he's in her kitchen. The thought is so ridiculous she wants to pinch herself. But even her dreams never brought him there. She never dared to imagine what it would be like to have him in her world. He was always tucked away in this fantasy where she could follow them. Sure, the fantasy changed over the years, but it always involved her getting out too. 

But this is happening and he's there and she's getting dressed in record time and moving back to the kitchen to see he had listened to her and is leaning back in one of her chairs, looking extremely comfortable as he scrolls through his phone. And Emma kind of wants to take a picture, have some real proof that this is not some extremely realistic dream. But she still can't find her phone.

"Ready?" Calum asks, looking up to her when he notices her looking around.

"Yeah, I just need to find my-" she stops when he stands up, raising his hand and shaking her phone.

"It was under the pile of paper," he explains and she tilts her head, eyeing him with an amused expression, "I got curious about what you were studying."

"Oh, you wanna learn about the terrors of electromagnetic waves?" She teases, taking the phone from his offering hand and shoving it in her purse.

"It can't possibly be that bad," he chuckles as he follows her to the door.

"The problem is the professor, great dude, batshit crazy, exactly what you expect a physicist to be like, but his tests make no sense whatsoever," she stops talking once they reach the sidewalk, planning on asking if he has a plan, but he nods at the car parked next to them when she looks at him, stepping forward to open the door for her, making her giggle a thank you as she gets in, "I actually delayed taking this class as much as I could," she starts again once he gets in the driver's side, "it's fascinating, really, he goes into these philosophical tangents about the subject, but the tests are all hardcore calculus and- sorry, I'm babbling aren't I?" She asks, feeling her cheeks heating up when she notices him watching her, a grin on his face.

"Babble away," Calum chuckles, pointing at the seat, "just babble with the seatbelt on."

"Right," she agrees, buckling in as he starts the car before going back to rambling about her classes, her internship until she recognizes where he's taking them.

"You're taking us on a trip down memory lane, Hood?" She teases when the very familiar lights of the McDonald's near the beach come into view. "Come on, we used to end up here all the time," she adds when he glances at her.

"But now we can afford more than one milkshake," he jokes and she giggles, scrunching her nose.

"Come on, half the fun was me complaining you were drinking the whole thing," she laughs, grabbing his arm when he stops by the speaker, "oh my god, remember when you tried to go through the drive-thru in your bike?" 

"It was better than trying to walk through it," he shrugs, turning his head to order and she leans back into the seat watching him.

"That was your excuse back then too, and I couldn't really fight you on it," she says once the car is moving again and he looks at her.

"It worked, didn't it?" He winks at her, making her laugh.

"Yeah, 'cause they were laughing too hard to deny you." She takes the food when he hands the bag and the cup holder, watching him as he turns the car around and parks right by the entrance of her spot on the beach. 

"You're really going down memory lane," she teases, narrowing her eyes at him and he looks unsure for a moment.

"You wanna do something else?" He offers, but she's quick to shake her head, looking out the window to the way the moon's reflecting on the water.

"Nope, this is great actually, it's been too long since I've been here, I forgot how pretty it is at night," she says, moving out of the car, and running down to the sand, not bothering to check to see if Calum's following her because she hears the door slamming shut and he's catching up to her soon enough. 

The scene is weirdly familiar and Emma feels like she shouldn't be feeling this at ease, but as Calum tries to take her milkshake from her, laughing like a child about how it's tradition, she's actually enjoying herself.

The salty wind picks up speed and she shivers, pulling her flowing skirt down further her legs, still smiling at the waves, not noticing as Calum shrugs his jacket off, placing it around her shoulders and she feels herself blush looking at him.

"You can't just let me freeze, can you, Hood?" She says, trying to sound teasing as she pulls her arms through the sleeves but her voice sounds too soft for that, and he shrugs noncommittally, a grin on his face.

"I don't think I've seen you in a dress before," he comments as she folds the ends of the sleeves so she could use her hands.

"You have. M's sixteenth birthday and that night at the club." She only realizes what she had just brought up after the words had left her mouth, and that makes her freeze. She doesn't want to start a fight. She doesn't want to discuss whatever heavy feelings can still be there. But a question lingers in her head. "Why did you show up at my doorstep, Calum?" She asks, studying him carefully as he frowns at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Why did you show up?" She asks again and he watches her, clearly confused about what she means.

"You do realize you were sobbing in my arms yesterday, right? And then you stopped answering, I was worried," he explains like it’s obvious, but she still can’t let it go.

"Why?"

"Why?" He repeats, the confusion on his face growing as she stares at him.

"Yeah, why? It's not like we've been all that close recently."

"And that's why you were crying, and it's my fault you feel like this," he says, sounding a bit exasperated, but she shakes her head when he looks like he wants to say something else.

"Why is it your fault?"

"You stopped talking to Mike because of me," he says, and she feels the words physically hit her, making her sit up straighter. He couldn’t possibly believe that.

"That's not true, it was my choice, I know you would never ask him to choose, and I did come back, so…"

"I still put you in the position that made you feel the need to."

"No, but-" she starts to protest, but he interrupts her.

"I wanted to see you," he exclaims, making her stare at him for a beat too long.

"Why?" She sighs, voice low and he actually chuckles.

"I can't want to see you?"

"I'm not saying you can't, I'm just wondering why you would," she asks, and he raises an eyebrow when he finally understands what she means, and the atmosphere around them gains a different intensity.

"You still don't see it, do you?" He's watching her, brown eyes so soft she wants to lose herself in them, but she cocks her head, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"See what?" She asks, and he looks at her, face filled with something between disbelief and amusement, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he speaks, drawing her eyes down to them.

"How incredible you are." He says the words calmly like it's something he's been thinking about for years, and it's hard for her not to feel dazzled. Does he know the effect he still has on her? She's not even sure she's still breathing while they look at each other.

"Calum." His name feels too soft coming out of her lips, and she slowly shakes her head, trying to think of something else to say, but she can't find any words.

"What?" He asks, shifting in the sand, clearly not liking the space between them.

"You can't say something like that."

"Why not?" The question sounds like a challenge, and she blinks at him a couple of times, trying to get her brain to start working properly again.

"Because I meant it," she says as he gets closer, locking eyes with him as he invades her space, stealing the oxygen around them.

"What?" He asks, fingers threading through her hair.

"This doesn't make any sense," she explains, his eyes on her making it hard to keep thinking straight, as she leans into his touch. He's got to know the effect he has. "We don't make any sense," she mumbles as an afterthought, looking away.

"But I really wanna do this." She knows what he wants as his hand finds her chin, gently forcing her to look back at him, as he leans in, slowly, giving her time to move away if she wants to. But she doesn't want to pull away. She desperately wants to know if he can still make her feel everything all at once, or if that was just her mind making up details in the memories she kept replaying in her head. She wants to know if he still feels right despite it all. Because she sure as hell hasn't found right with anyone else.

So Emma closes the gap between them herself, heartbeat ringing in her ears as their lips meet, and the world seems to fade away. Calum tries to keep it slow, gentle hands on her, but she wants more. She feels like an addict, finally getting a fix after years of being strung out. And the familiar high is all she's chasing as she deepens the kiss, moving so she would be straddling his lap, throwing her arms around his neck, and pressing closer to him, fingers moving up his hair. 

Sirens are going off in her head as he matches her energy, fingers digging into her hips from under the jacket, holding her closer to him. They shouldn't be doing this. She shouldn't still feel that way. Like she's coming back for air after a long time underwater. They shouldn't fit together so well she forgets everything that's not him. But they do and she lets herself map out everything about it. His curls under her fingers and the pleased hums he lets out when she tugs lightly on them. His hands moving up her back like he can't get her close enough, sending chills up her spine. Chills that make her pull out from the kiss with a gasp, her hands dropping to his shoulder as she tries to move back.

"What's wrong?" Calum's expression is alarmed, his hold on her loosening so she could move but his hands stay on her so she wouldn't fall back.

That's a loaded question. What's wrong? Her mind is racing, that's what's wrong. Because they hadn't kissed in years and she's somehow feeling more than she did before, more than she thought was possible. That's an issue. Because he's leaving again in a few days and she can't let herself feel all she's feeling when this has an expiration date. Because it's crazy to think that this is not a bad idea. Because she wants so much more than he is willing to offer her. Because half of her wants to stay there and pretend and the other wants to run away and never look back.

"Emma?" His voice snaps her out of the spiral her mind is going down, and she blinks a couple of times, his face coming into focus. He still looks alarmed, forehead creased, watching her with worried eyes. "There you are," he says when her eyes focus on his, "where did you go?" 

"Oh, you know me, always getting lost in my head," she jokes, looking around them, trying to decide what's the best way to handle the situation they're in. 

"Emma," his tone lets her know she can't joke her way out of it and she sighs, moving out of his lap, sitting on her knees in front of him, and crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"You're leaving, and we were kissing, you can't really blame me for getting a bit overwhelmed," she chuckles, still feeling too much to think straight.

"Can't we just stay here for a moment without dwelling on the past and worrying about the future?" Calum asks, leaning closer to her, brown eyes intense staring into hers, and for a second she's reminded of why she was never able to deny him. There's no way he doesn't know the effect he has. Some part of her knows there's no way this won't come back to haunt her, but she wants it too much to care. She wants him too much to care. If this is all she gets, then so be it. He said the words that made that part of her that just wants to pretend for as long as she can win the fight going on in her head. 

So she leans forward, hands cupping his cheeks, watching his face while she moves back to his lap, his hands pulling her to him, making her gasp before kissing him again, letting go of the idea of holding back when he lets out a happy sound, smiling against her lips before matching her intensity.

She doesn’t know how long they stay there, lost in each other, she would’ve stayed there for the rest of her life if she allowed herself to be honest, but then they’re back in his car, his hand holding hers during the drive back, and he’s leaning across the dashboard to kiss her goodbye, and she’s stepping out of the car, standing there for a second, still in a haze, before going in. Glancing back, she sees Calum looking at her as she walks. She smiles and waves before entering the house. She goes to the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights, toes out her shoes, dropping into the still-made bed. She doesn't take off his jacket, though. She just lets it surround her in his scent as she stares at the ceiling, mind racing as fast as her heart. She doesn't know what just happened. She can't make sense of it. When she finally falls asleep, it's with restless thoughts of “what the hell do I do now.” 

____

Emma sits up, jolting awake, dreams full of airports and airplanes leaving her behind still in her mind, making her confused about where she is, and she glances around, blinking rapidly as she tries to ground herself. She’s in her bedroom, the curtains are not closed all the way, the light coming in reflecting on her sheets, making her bed feel too big for just her. She moves her hands, wanting to rub her eyes but being confronted with Calum’s jacket sleeves, and looks down at herself. So that part hadn’t been a dream then.

Stay in the moment. She can stay in the moment. She can totally not overthink whatever happened. She can do it. No explanations needed. No expectations. She can do it, right? It was just a makeout session with Calum at the beach. It's not like it had never happened before. It's not like she never wished it could happen again.

She can do it. Or at least is what she tells herself as she gets ready for class. And she walks through campus. And as she sits in the corner of the lecture hall spinning a pen between her fingers. And as she stared blankly at the front of the room.

She tries to focus. She really does. But she can still smell Calum's cologne on her skin and feel him on her lips and not a single word her professor's saying is being registered in her brain and she's thanking every entity that she only has that class that day because there's no way she can make it through a whole day of classes feeling like this. She's not sure she can make it through anything feeling like this. But she still sits through the class. And at a corner of the library pretending she's reading her textbook, not just looking at the page waiting for something to happen. She doesn't even know what she's waiting for. For feeling to go away maybe. For something to snap her out of her Calum-induced haze. 

It is fascinating to her how he can just walk back into her life, same brown eyes and warm smiles, and leave her feeling things she hoped she didn't feel anymore. Things she thought she would never feel again. How quickly he can take permanent residence inside her brain again.

She’s debating whether to just give up and go home when her phone dings.

From M 💜: where r u?

To M 💜: library 

To M 💜: but im about to head home

She answers, throwing her stuff in her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.

She had just closed the door when she gets another message.

From M 💜: im coming over

And she barely has time to put her stuff down before she hears the doorbell.

“Were you already halfway here?” She laughs, throwing her arms around his neck once Michael gets through the door, making him laugh.

“I was close,” he shrugs, and she motions for him to follow her to her room. He takes a second looking around, stopping by the pictures she had started to tentatively tape to the wall, some old photos with him, some with Calum, Ashton, or Luke, one with all five of them, some with Kayley, and some others with her family and with people from Uni. 

"This one is my favorite," Michael points to a picture of the two of them back in his old room, sitting side by side, Michael mid-laughter looking at her while Emma hides her face in her hands leaning closer to him. It's her favorite too. The happiness that flows through her when she looks at it being something she desperately wanted to hold on to. 

"Mine too," she says, watching him move around the room waiting. He finally sits on the bed.

"How are you?" He asks, green eyes carefully watching her and she crinkles her nose.

"I'm great. How about you?"

"I'm serious," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Me too," she tilts her head and looks into his eyes, "I mean it, I can handle it, I just needed to get it out of my chest, I guess" she shrugs.

“You sure?” He asks and she nods. 

“Yeah,” she agrees and he doesn't seem to believe her, glancing around the room, eyes landing on Calum’s jacket hanging from the back of the computer chair next to her bed.

"That's Calum's." It's not a question, it's a statement that's followed by him narrowing his eyes at her.

"He came over last night, and he left his jacket," she says, feeling her face heating up and avoiding looking at him.

"If it was just that you'd be able to look at me," he remarks, and she cringes, finally meeting his eyes.

"We might've," she clears her throat, scratching her neck, "kissed," she adds with a mumble.

"Fuck, you guys still can't be alone for five minutes without trying to get into each other's pants?"

"Hey!" She protests, frowning at him and he looks skeptical at her.

"Come on, trouble, you're smarter than this."

"I think you grossly underestimate how stupid I can be,” she jokes, making him roll his eyes, “but you lost me."

"He has no fucking clue what he wants, we're leaving again in a few days and you're just letting yourself be roped back into it?" 

"We kissed, it happened before, it's not a big deal," she shrugs, running her hands through her hair and he huffs.

"You're telling me you're not still in love with him?" He asks voice heavy with sarcasm, tone bordering on mean, making her flinch. 

"Jesus, Michael," she frowns, crossing her arms in front of her chest and he looks apologetic.

"You can't help how you feel, trouble," his voice is much softer now and she groans.

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then what are you doing?"

"I needed to know," she admits, fisting the ends of her sleeves and covering her face.

"What?"

"How it would feel like," she says, dropping her hands to her lap, fidgeting with her fingers.

"Em," he says, and she glances at him.

"I don't know how much of it all was real and how much was me reading into things and I don't know how I feel about him because he's tangled up in this ball of emotions that I have no idea what to do with and, honestly, for once in my life I wanted not to think about the consequences of what I'm doing and just do something I want just 'cause I wanted. Because something I did know was how much I wanted to kiss him."

“So you just spent the past few years pinning for him?” He teases and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, definitely, I have a shrine for him hidden in my closet," she jokes, sarcasm lacing the words, as she points to it, making him laugh, "come on, babe, give me a bit more credit, I even had a girlfriend for a while there, I was not out of the game."

“Girlfriend?” He asks a grin on his face that makes her blink blankly at him before her eyes widen.

“Wait, you didn’t know."

“Oh, I did know, give me more credit,” he chuckles and she frowns.

“How?”

“I just did. Come on, your crush on Megan Fox rivaled Calum's," he says, affectionately rolling his eyes and making her giggle.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I knew you would tell me when you were ready,” he shrugs, and she smiles at him.

“You’re pretty awesome, you know that right?” She tells him and he winks at her. "Now you didn't come here to discuss Calum or that fact that I’m bi, so what's up?"

"I'm taking you to a party tomorrow," he states making her chuckle.

"You're taking me? I don't get a choice?"

"No, it's why I'm here, you can't say no to me in person."

"I can't?"

"No, it makes you feel bad."

"And you just love to take advantage of it."

"And you love me for it," he says and she nods.

"You could've just asked, I wouldn't say no."

"Couldn't take any chances."

____________

Everything is loud. Music is all she can register. Emma sure would be feeling out of place if it wasn't for the way Michael's dragging her along with him, leaving her clutching an empty red cup and laughing at his enthusiasm. And she's having fun watching a giggly and progressively louder Luke next to an equally as attention-catching Ashton being the life of the party.

"Here," Calum seems to materialize next to where she’s leaning against the wall, trying to hand her another beer, but she shakes her head.

"School night, rockstar, one is my limit," she laughs and he looks confused for a second, looking down at his hands before putting the drinks at a nearby table.

"Shit, I forgot, sorry," he says, turning back to her and she shrugs.

"It's fine, I just don't have it in me to power through classes hungover anymore."

"Anymore?" He asks, raising an eyebrow, looking mildly impressed at her as he leans his shoulder against the wall near her, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, there was this one time I went to class straight from a party, bad choice, I was still drunk, I was struggling the whole day, it was awful."

"Hard to picture," he laughs and she pokes his arm, giving him an unimpressed look.

"That's just 'cause you still picture the girl that kept refusing the beers you tried to get me to drink, people change, you know?" She tells him but he shakes his head.

"Nah, you didn't change all that much," he teases and she pouts at him.

"Come on now," she complains, sounding offended and making him laugh.

"You just stopped hiding."

"What do you mean?"

"It was like you were always trying your hardest to go unnoticed, now you just, don't care all that much anymore," he explains and she blinks up at him pressing her lips together.

"I go unnoticed without trying now," she chuckles, moving her hands dramatically around her, making him chuckle.

"Not even close, love,” he says, and she shakes her head, frowning at him, “dance with me,” he adds, pushing himself off the wall and offering her his hand.

“You wanna dance?” She asks, sounding skeptical but still smiling over the grin on his face as he takes her hand and drags her along with him.

“Yeah, come on.”

Emma is trying to keep a straight face as Calum moves to the beat in an exaggerated way, but she can’t stop herself from breaking down laughing.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” She teases, leaning closer to him as she speaks and he looks offended.

"Fuck you, I'm awesome," he complains, taking her hand again and forcing her to spin before pulling her to him.

***

"Why do we always end up in weird halfways?" Emma laughs now they can actually hear each other, looking around them and up to the sky as she leans back against the wall and Calum comes to stand in front of her, hands in his pockets. 

"Who knows?" He chuckles, a grin on his face that makes her heart beat faster.

"Really, this can't be normal," she jokes, crossing her arms in front of her, sliding a bit down the wall behind her and he shakes his head, reaching for her arms and pulling her to him, hands settling on her hips after he places hers on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" She giggles when he starts moving them side to side, way too calmly for the music blaring from the house.

"I'm dancing with you," he says, moving back so he could spin her, making her laugh and fight the urge to duck her head as her cheeks heat up.

"You're off beat," she teases, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I'm bassist, I'm never off beat," he brags, making her chuckle.

"We are, though," she says, tilting her head as she looks up at him.

"The song is wrong not me." 

"Right, my bad," she nods, and he winks at her. "You're better at this now," she says once they settled on a rhythm and he frowns at her.

"I was always good at this."

"Sure you were," she teases, voice heavy with sarcasm and he stops moving so he could look at her.

"I was nervous. I could only about how much I wanted to kiss you," he says and she laughs, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, come on," she says, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I'm serious, the girl I had a crush on was in my shirt, in my bedroom, it was a very intense experience,” he says, nonchalantly, making her scoff in disbelief.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I was trying to."

"Wait, you did that because you wanted to kiss me?" She asks, and he shrugs.

"I wanted to know what it would be like," he says simply and she purses her lips.

"That storm was a real cockblocker, then, huh?" She chuckles and he shakes his head.

“Pretty sure it was your dad.”

“It was a combination of the blackout, lighting, lights, and my phone, all completely random things happening at the same time for some reason,” she says, motioning dramatically around them making him laugh.

"You're something else, love."

"You gotta embrace the weird."

"Yeah," he says, watching her intently, a soft smile on his face. 

"That would've been a nice kiss," she says, chewing on the inside of her cheek, fighting the urge to stare at his lips.

"That means you wouldn't have freaked out if I had kissed you that day?"

"I don't know, probably not." 

"Would you freak out if I kissed you now?" 

"You wanna kiss me, Hood?’ She teases, a smirk on her face that makes him groan.

“You’re impossible,” he complains, shaking his head, starting to pull away and she moves her hands to his face, pulling him back to her, and kissing him. He seems startled for a second, before kissing her back, hands pulling her closer. His lips are soft against hers and it's hard for her to understand exactly what she's feeling. She just knows she doesn't want him to stop kissing her.

***

"Do you wanna come in?" Emma asks in a moment of boldness that surprises her a bit when Calum stops the car in front of her house and he kills the engine before looking at her.

"Yeah," he nods, smiling at her in a way that makes her feel breathless.

She's trying to get the gate open, fumbling with the keys for a second when she feels Calum pressing against her back, arms snaking around her waist and she giggles, pushing the gate open and they walk together to the house, her leaning her head back against his shoulder.

"You want something?" She asks, detaching herself from him to get a glass of water.

"I'm good," he says, leaning against the doorway while she grabs a glass and moves to sit on the counter. 

Emma is feeling mesmerized as Calum moves closer to her, taking a sip of her water as he nudges her thighs open so he can slot himself between them, and moves a piece of her hair away from her face making her lean into the touch as she puts the glass down. 

"You sure you don't want anything?" She mumbles, breathing shaky and he shakes his head.

The energy around them is charged and she barely has time to react before his hand moves on her, one hand on her back pulling her flush against him, the other moving up her hair and he's kissing her. She would be lying if she said she's used to the wave of sensations that crash into her, but she doesn't want to hold back anymore, so she lets go, allowing her hands to explore his body, whimpering against his lips while his fingers seem determined to touch every inch of exposed skin.

Both of them are lightly pushing the limits, seeing if the other is going to back down, she's dragging her nails across the nape of his neck, under the collar of his shirt and his fingers are tracing her thighs along the edge of her skirt.

He breaks the kiss, and she's about to protest when he moves her hair back and starts kissing down the column of her throat, his fingers inching further up her thighs and her protest becomes a strangled noise.

“Is this okay?” He checks, starting to pull away, but she breathes out a yes while grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him back to her, clashing a bit when he laughs at her eagerness but kisses her back with just as much enthusiasm while her fingers work their way down his shirt, opening the buttons in the way down. She pulls away while her hands move under his shirt, watching his face as she drags them up his chest and across his shoulders, slowly sliding the fabric off him and he lets it fall to the floor. She lets her fingers trace along the tattoos on his chest and down his arm, eyes following her movements as she drinks in every detail she can before he's kissing her again, his hands sneaking under her shirt, slowly moving them up, thumbs tracing along the band of her bra, and she raises her arms to let him pull it off her.

“You sure about this?” He asks once the shirt is somewhere on the floor, eyes darkening as he scans her, “we never-” he trails off and she chuckles.

“Moved past making out?” She offers, and he laughs, nodding. “Are you sure?” She asks in return when she sees a flash of uncertainty on his face and his eyes soften.

“You’re asking me?” He asks, cocking his head while studying her face, a grin on his face.

“Yeah, it never happened before for the both of us, you know?” She says, running her hands through his hair, watching him look at her with a strange mix of confusion and fondness that makes her want to giggle. 

“I am sure, but you didn’t answer,” he says and she grins at him.

“Oh, I am, I was just checking,” she says, cupping his cheeks and pulling him back to her. “Wait, this is not happening on my kitchen counter, though,” she laughs, gripping his biceps to stop him when his hands move up her skirt, grabbing at the skin of her ass, and he leans his forehead against hers, laughing too.

“Hang on then,” he says, swiftly lifting her off the counter, making her yelp, and throw her arms around his neck while he moves them to her bedroom.

____

It takes Emma a few moments to properly wake up, and as she stretches around in the bed, something feels wrong, but she can't quite place what. Until she realizes she's alone. She opens her eyes, slowly sitting up and glancing around. She's wearing Calum's shirt, so the night before had definitely happened, and she remembers falling asleep tangled up with him, so why is she alone?

She's trying not to let her anxiety take over when she hears the sound of glass shattering and a string of curses, and she races off the bed, into the kitchen, heart racing as she stops by the door and watches Calum picking up pieces of broken glass. 

"You're still here," she blurts out, staring at him like she's unsure he's real. She kind of wants to pinch herself, to make sure the vision of a very shirtless Calum in her kitchen isn't some kind of hallucination, but she's not ready to give it up yet if it is. Not when he's smiling at her, looking like he stepped right out of her dreams after he trashes the broken cup.

"Where else would I be?" He asks, "sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she shakes her head as he moves closer.

"I'm also sorry about the cup."

"It's fine." She can't help but smile up at him, the anxiety she was feeling is completely forgotten.

"Morning, love," he says, pulling her to him once she's in his reach.

"Hi," she giggles as he kisses her, slowly pushing her back into the room, and she laughs when she realizes his intentions, "baby, I can't, I have a class to get to," she laughs, trying to pull away, but he holds her in place.

"No, skip it, stay with me," he whines, pouting at her and she smiles at him, cupping his cheeks, thumb tracing his bottom lip.

"I can't, I have a presentation," she tells him and that just makes him pout harder.

"You have to leave now?" He asks, and she glances at the clock on her bedside table, realizing it's way earlier than she thought.

"Actually, no," she says, looking back at him, and his lips are on hers the second the words are out of her mouth.

"How long do we have?" He asks, lips moving across her jaw, making her drop her head back as his fingers slowly work on getting the buttons on the shirt open.

"About an hour, a bit more if you're willing to take me there," she gasps, feeling breathless as he kisses his way down her neck, hands moving up her body pushing the shirt open.

"I'll take you," he says, gently sliding the shirt down her arms, "I'll take you anywhere," he adds, voice raspy as his lips make their way across her skin back to hers before pushing her into the bed.

***

"Kay, are you even listening to me?" Emma asks after they step out of the building when Kayley seems to just be nodding to her words, stopping in front of her.

"Yeah," Kayley nods again, and Emma raises an eyebrow at her, unimpressed, "we need to meet up to do the thing," she adds, and Emma huffs. 

"Kay, this is important," Emma says, but her friend's attention is now focused on something behind her, and she watches as her green eyes widen, "what?" She asks, glancing behind her.

She spots the reason for that reaction instantly, seeing Calum walking towards them, weirdly blending in, with a grey beanie pulled over his head, a white sweatshirt, hands shoved into his jeans pocket, and Emma breathes out an oh looking back to her friend. 

"If you freak out, I will hit you," Emma threatens, turning back to her friend, but with no actual heat behind her words, her breath hitching as she feels Calum's hand in the small of her back. "Hi, Cal," she smiles looking up at him. Kayley’s eyes are moving between the two, stopping on Calum's hand, trying to understand what’s happening. She raises an eyebrow wondering what she missed making Emma clear her throat, "Cal, this is Kayley. Kay, this is Calum," she says, motioning between them.

"It's nice to meet you," Calum says, offering his hand, and Emma thinks Kayley is about to pass out when she shakes it, letting out a strangled hi.

"Kay is a big fan," Emma teases, emphasizing the big while playfully poking her, and the brunette rolls her eyes. "I think the words best band were used on more than one occasion," Emma adds, making her blush. 

"I'm a regular fan. I’m not obsessed or anything," Kayley says her face going bright red, causing Emma to burst into laughter, "and now I'm gonna go find a hole to bury myself in."

"Come on, Kay, I'm just messing with you," she says, moving to throw an arm around her friend and Calum seems amused watching the interaction.

"Emma has told me a lot about you," he tells Kayley and she gives Emma a side glance, before looking back at him.

"I could say the same."

"All bad things, I'm guessing," he jokes and Kayley shakes her head.

"Not at all," she tells him and he seems very interested in what Emma could've possibly said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, she actually-" Kayley starts talking but Emma's hand moves to cover her mouth.

"You know what? We should go or else Kay is gonna be late for her next class because she's gonna be dead," Emma says glaring at her friend and Kayley pushes her hand away, laughing.

"Come on, I'm just messing with you," she mocks and Emma rolls her eyes.

"Real funny."

"Not as fun when it's done to you, huh?" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"I should get going then, it was nice to meet you," Kayley tells Calum, "Thomas," she whispers to Emma, who playfully elbows her, pretending outrage.

"Yeah, you too," he says, eyeing them both.

"I'll talk to you later, babe," Emma tells Kayley, who walks away with a wave.

"What was that about?" He asks, taking her backpack that's hanging from one of her shoulders and slinging it on his, walking them back to his car.

"I might've talked about you exclusively calling you Thomas," she admits, scratching her neck, and he frowns at her.

"Why?" 

"Because you're you, and she is a fan, I didn't want, you know, to feel like I was trash-talking you or that our friendship was about trying to get to you guys. I only told her that night at the club, I couldn't exactly deny it, she noticed my reaction to seeing you," she shrugs, looking forward, feeling her cheeks heating up.

"That actually makes sense," he says, and she stops, looking up at him.

"It does?" She asks when he stops too.

"It's who you are," he shrugs and her confusion grows.

"You lost me," she chuckles, and he adjusts the beanie on his head.

"You would still care about us without the music."

"Well, I did know you before."

"And you never tried to get something out of it."

"Of course not!"

"Exactly," he agrees when they get to the car and he opens the door for her while she studies him. Her eyes stay on him once he closes the door after she sits, watching as he puts her backpack on the backseat before getting on the driver's side.

"You wanna stay over tonight?" He asks, voice sounding a bit too low as he puts the keys in the ignition. And that's a reminder that hits like a punch in the gut. They are leaving the next day. 

"Can we stop by my place first?" She asks, smiling at him, determined to not let that get to her as they make the way to her house.

Calum is looking around her room curiously, studying the wall with the picture and she sees the smile taking over his features when he notices the few pictures with him, and she stops in the middle of pulling a book from the pile on her desk, watching as he pulls the beanie off his head taking a step closer to the wall, before going back to the search of the book she needs.

"You play that now?" He asks as she puts the book in her backpack and she glances at him, noticing he's pointing at her old acoustic sitting on its stand beside her desk and she shrugs noncommittally, closing the backpack.

"Kinda? I can get away with playing a few songs."

"And the keyboard?" He asks, moving to sit on her bed, glancing around again, clearly noticing that it wasn't anywhere to be seen, before looking at her and she chuckles, pulling this drawer-like compartment on her desk open to show it to him.

"Definitely, but we have a grand piano at the studio on the campus, I mostly play there, it's kinda sad playing this little keyboard after that."

"Still not making your own music?" She can feel the way he's watching her as she ducks her head, hitting random keys that don't make any sound in the unplugged instrument.

"Nah." The answer is automatic, even if a small part of her wanted to tell him about her channel and her silly attempts at songwriting. She doesn't want him to know. She doesn't know exactly why. It's not like she wants something to come out of it. It's more about getting the thought out of her head than anything serious. But she doesn't like to talk about it, “you can stay there, or look around, I’m just gonna get some stuff,” she adds, motioning vaguely to the bathroom.

“Take your time,” he says and she nods before moving away.

Emma is finishing getting dressed when she hears Calum strumming. He's humming soft "oh's," along with the rhythm, and she quietly steps out of the bathroom back to the room. He is sitting at the edge of her bed, the dusk light coming from the window behind him making the room dark, and Calum glow. She leans against the door frame when he starts singing, recognizing the lyrics from one of their songs that kept her up wondering if they meant what she wanted them to do. But she didn't want to think about that. She wants to watch it. She didn't even care about the song, his voice, the way he played, erasing every coherent thought from her mind. She wants to record him, keep that forever, but she resists the urge, moving to sit beside him, making him smile at her before getting to the chorus of the song. 

I know that it's a little too late 

But this is everything I didn't say 

She's captivated, her mind trying to think about the last time she heard him sing like this, no crowds, no production, just him but she can't remember exactly. He's still smiling at her while singing and she can't help but smile back. 

The song ends too soon, making her want to ask him to sing something else, but she's too afraid to break the spell. So she doesn't say anything while he puts the guitar back on its stand and moves to sit back next to her. She doesn't do anything even though she wants to while he takes her hand in his and draws senseless shapes in it. She just keeps looking at him. 

"I always wanted to play you that song," he says quietly, also afraid to do the wrong thing, to say the wrong thing and shatter the moment they’re in. "When Ash and I started writing this, I wanted to know your reaction. I thought you hated me back then and I hoped it wouldn't be forever", he adds, bringing their intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

"I could never hate you, Calum," she whispers, scared that her voice would betray her if she tried to speak any louder. 

"I thought you did. And I wouldn't blame you for it," he replies, looking at her, his features getting harder to see as the setting sun disappeared, taking her back to that rainy afternoon in his bedroom and wishing she could read his mind. 

"Well, I did try," she chuckles, "I just couldn't do it," she tilts her head, thinking, "not for real anyway." She studies his face but can't read him, so she just looks at him. She traces the tattoos on his arm with her fingers. Committing every detail she could to her memory. She doesn't want to think about the bad things anymore, not when he's right there with her.

"Come here," he says before pulling her to his lap, her knees on each side of him, hands on his shoulder keeping her steady. "I'm glad you don't hate me," he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear before settling both his hands on her hip. 

"Me too," she replies, leaning forward and kissing him. He pulls her closer, and she threads her fingers through his hair before letting her hands roam through his body while he does the same.

Emma finds the hem of his shirt and tugs at it, asking for permission, and he raises his arms, breaking the kiss long enough for her to pull it off him, grabbing her and flipping them, so he's laying on top of her, making her giggle. She's smiling at him, and he kisses the tip of her nose before going back to her lips. 

_____

“Do you have to go to class today?” Calum asks, face hidden in her hair, and Emma moves her head from his chest so she could look at him.

“I have that final I've been complaining about all week on my last period, so I have to go to at least that one,” she tells him and he pouts, making her giggle.

“So no chance you’ll come to see us off then?” He asks and pulls her closer, pressing his lips against her forehead.

“Nope, and even if I could go, I wouldn’t,” she says, kisses his chest, and pulls away, sitting up beside him.

“Why not?” He sits up too, frowning and she sighs.

“I still have nightmares about that airport, Cal, I’m not doing that again, I’ll say goodbye to all of you and make it to my afternoon classes,” she explains, running a hand through her hair and looking at him.

“But I was hoping,” he starts but she stops him, shaking her head.

“Nope, you can’t convince me to go through that again,” she says, laughing, and he half shrugs half nods.

“Can I convince you to let me take you out for lunch then?” He asks and she rubs her chin pretending to consider.

“Can lunch end somewhere I can say goodbye to all of you?”

“I can make that happen."

“Then you got me for the rest of the morning,” she grins at him and he smirks moving closer to her.

“I could always not let you leave this bed, then I’d have you for more than that,” he says, pushing her back down, and moving so he would be on top of her, settling between her thighs.

“Hate to burst your bubble, but you’re leaving today anyway,” she reminds him and he groans, hiding his face in her neck, making her giggle.

“Come on, let me stay in the bubble for a little while longer."

“You’re lucky I like the bubble,” she says, her hands moving to his face and pulling him so she could kiss him.

*****

Emma doesn't want to think about how much she wants the day not to pass, because she feels like the more she thinks about it, the faster the time seems to run out. One moment she's sitting in Calum's kitchen with the promise of the morning together, the next they are in his car heading to meet the rest of the band before their flight. She hates how much she hates the idea of watching them leave. She hates how it's making her feel like she’s about to lose everything again.

“You okay there, love?” Calum asks her, eyeing her, noticing how she had fallen silent.

“Yeah, I’m just,” she nods, but then she stops, “actually, I don’t know what I am right now,” she lets out a chuckle, “I’m just staying in the moment, I guess.”

Calum stops at a red light and looks over at her, mixed emotions on his face as he studies her. The intensity of his gaze doesn’t help with the anxious feeling in her chest, but she holds it, giving him a pressed lips smile when he reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers and letting them lay on her leg when the light turns green again and they start moving once more.

Too soon they’re pulling up to Ashton’s place and she’s fighting every instinct on her body that’s telling her to run when she smiles at them.

“Are you going to cry?” Michael asks his tone somewhere in between mockery and concern, eyes narrowing when he looks at her.

“Nope, if I start crying, I won’t stop and I have a class to pass after this,” she jokes, “I’m just here to say goodbye and then I’m going back to campus.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Luke asks and she presses her lips together, shaking her head.

“I can’t, I have a final that ends when your flight is set to take off,” she explains and he nods.

“So you really can’t stay.”

She is still there after a while, observing the excitement, taking them in for the moment, laughing at Michael’s jokes or the banter between all of them.

It breaks her heart to stand up and hug them, getting ready to leave. It breaks her heart to hold on a little too tightly, while she can’t tell why she feels like she needs to hold on. It breaks her heart to hide her face on Calum’s chest and breathe him in, not knowing how it would be like when she let go. 

Her heart is still breaking when Michael lets her know they landed. 

But what shatters her heart is when Calum doesn’t. 

She waits for it. She knows she shouldn't but she does it anyway. Staying by her phone, praying for him to throw her a lifeline. When that doesn't happen she finds herself wanting to destroy anything that could make her think of him. The issue is that now, everything about her house makes her think of him. His jacket's in her wardrobe and her sheets still smell like him. 

Shoving all her bedding into the washer is what breaks her. Is what makes her rip his pictures out the wall, what makes her push the bed into a different position, what makes her move everything he touched into a different place. 

But it doesn't change how she's feeling, and the next thing she knows she's dialing his number.

She slides down the wall, phone to her ear, praying he would just pick up but shaking her head when she repeatedly gets his voicemail.

“I must be really stupid for actually thinking you would pick up, hell, I don’t even believe you’ll listen to this, I don't know why you think that disappearing is the right thing to do, I don’t know if you think I can’t handle the truth, or if you’re just too much of coward to just say it, but you can’t do this to me again, if it was just for the week, if you just wanted to know what it would be like, but you don’t really want,” her voice cracks, she can’t ask him if he doesn’t want her, “if you just want to act like it didn’t happen, like it’s nothing, you can tell me. But you can't do this to me again. You said to stay in the moment, but this is just mean. You can't do this after everything that happened." She stops, looking up at the ceiling, suddenly being hit with a wave of anger she can't fight, "You know what? This is ridiculous, I'm not waiting by the phone anymore. I've been waiting for years, I can't do this anymore. If you don't call me back this time I won't call again. This is it, the last call, Calum, 'cause the next time you decide you miss me, I won't answer."

______

taglist: @lxnelyhearrt @larryologymajor

Just a random note, i actually had the scene where Calum plays the song to her sitting in the document like [song scene ??????????] until Calum posted this and suddenly I was able to write it and that scene is actually the only scene that i stayed from the first version of this part so I thought I'd share the video with it.

Also, alternative title for this one was "and it comes rushing back..." from love again by new hope club.

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[fxrtunas]

— — FORTUNE TELLER

An RP multimuse blog for Allan Kier, an original NPC based on the FFXIV world!

current draft count: 50+ current inbox count: 80+

owed starters: 0 owed asks: 8

Guidelines (UPDATED 9TH NOV):

hewwo!! call me termi (25+, any pronouns)

Allan is a non-wol oc btw in case the following information is confusing!

am a filthy multishipper hehehe

hey look at allan’s sausage fingers in the pic above

this is p much a multimuse blog but all the other muses basically revolve around allan so expect to see 80% of allan content kljalksjf

allan is likely to gravitate to extremes for what he wants, so torture/manipulation/etc. may be present on this blog!

i am v bad at rmbering all ffxiv lore but i will do my best ljaflksjf

i tag 'trigger tw' for any sensitive content!

i have a busy irl and other commitments! bc of this is i am naturally very slow and will take random hiatus’!

pls don’t rush me into replying to things or remind me in any way ;w ; this is a hobby for me and i tend to withdraw and get slower if i feel stressed fjlkdjsg

i do drop threads quite a lot; this is just to keep drafts from getting bloated. the reasons range from not knowing how to repond, not having the muse for it, it was a casual thread, or feeling like our muses’ relationship has progressed past that in other threads! it’s nothing personal at all, and i’m always happy to initiate new stuff!!

^ that being said, i tend to keep drafts if its the only one we have between our muses and/or we have anything planned for it!

FYI:

my main rp partner is @echobled​ so replies to their muses tend to be prioritized!

feel free to turn any prompt u sent that i answered into a thread!

i have a very low social battery so if you see me around on the dash and not responding to dms, it’s nothing personal! i’m probably just mentally drained and its easier for me to do small stuff while i recover ;w ;

Permanent Interaction Call (like at ur leisure no matter how long its been :3c)

Gentle wishlist ;w ; (pls also feel free to send me ideas u wanna do for ur muse!!)

Replying to one of my open starters is the easiest way to interact with me! i love doing one-liners as much as multipara/novella stuff, and oneliners require much less brain so! its my fave way esp since it can Evolve into smth more so don’t be afraid to jump in on em!

i love angst, hurt/comfort, romance, smut, and dark themes the most, but am happy to rp everything else, those are just faves kljaklsjf

open to familial/platonic/antagonistc dynamics and pre-est stuff if we can plot chemistry ;w ;

allan is an original NPC! the easiest way to look at him is as a blue sidequest giver LKJASLKFj completely missable, u get like. idk a handshake or a kees on the cheek (or more) LKJASKLFj but he does have a backstory that helps lend darker elements to plotting. its v flexible too in how light or dark it can get to make sure i don’t go too heavy with my rp partner if that’s not what they prefer. that being said, i did mention i love dark themes, so hmu if that’s what ur interested in!!  also love to explore deeper plots connected to my rp partner’s muse too!!

Allan Kier (main muse)

Age: appears mid to late 20s Gender: cis male Orientation: gay Eye colour: purple Hair colour: purple Skin colour: light brown Height: 170cm | 5'7 Notable features: tattoo on his right cheek (further back, mostly hidden), several dotted scars on left side of waist, a long scar from his left shoulder blade to his lower right back Job: Astrologian (abilities similar up to lvl 40; grows or changes class depending on story) Alignment: chaotic neutral

Brief History:

Not much is known about his earlier life. However, he lived in Sharlayan for a significant amount of time as a low profile arcanist.

Was secretly banished from Sharlayan for [redacted].

Went to Ishgard since he had some contacts there, making it easier to hide from [redacted]. However, due to starting over completely and relying on those contacts, he owes a major amount of debt that he pays off with his special ability, [redacted].

At some point during this, he becomes an Astrologian.

After the Dragonsong War, he travelled around more often, figuring it's safe to do so after the time he spent in Ishgard. He still revisits Ishgard to deal with his remaining few debts every so often.

More on Allan!

ANCIENT + SHARDS —

Asclepius (the Ancient Allan is a shard of):

Gender: cis male Orientation: asexual demiromantic Eye colour: glowing pale purple Hair colour: orange/light brown Skin colour: light brown Notable features: scar down his right eye, tattoo on his right temple Job: DRK (more proficient as a WHM, but abandoned it) Special abilities: soul sight - able to see and interpret the essence and shape of souls at will. prophetical sight - receives uncontrollable visions when he rests; this ability only got more wild in his waking time the closer the sundering came. Brief history: 

was known to have talents in medicinal care and healing, and had prophetic visions that would lead him to isolate himself often. 

was even offered the Seat of Emmerololth which he turned down quite fast. 

after receiving visions of the Final Days and the Sundering, he disappeared from society for some odd years, then came back as a DRK and sought adventure in an effort to forget all that he had Seen. 

he was running around... somewhere... when the Sundering happened lkJKALSJF 

he is p much a v big hermit and had like one (1) friend that returned to the star (verse dependent, he could also have Azem as a friend but... that’s probably it....... wheeze)

more on asclepius!

Selene (shard of Allan in the First)

Age: appears in her late 20s Gender: cis female Orientation:lesbian Eye colour: red Hair colour: black Skin colour: light brown Height: 196cm (6′4) Notable features: jagged scar from her chest to her left hip, scar on the back of her left thigh, another three scars across her right shoulder blade Job: BLM main (abilities up to lvl 80)

Brief bio: 

born of Eulmore to high-ranking soldiers in the army, Selene served and protected her home for many years. 

she defects to the Crystarium after learning the dark truth behind Eulmore’s inner machinations and rejecting them.

more on Selene!

Naila (Voidsent shard of Allan)

Age: ??? (appears in her mid to late twenties) Gender: ??? (she/they mostly) Orientation: aethersexual (she will lay with anyone to have aether basically LKJAFK) Eye colour: gold Hair colour: purple Skin colour: light brown Height: 150cm (4′9) Notable features: the biggest floofiest tail. her voice will also become quite gutteral/demonic when indimidating someone or when she loses control (either from anger/pleasure/shock). Job: WAR

Brief bio: 

the person that summoned Naila into the Source swiftly met an end when they prepared horrendously poorly for her arrival. Now Naila runs around in their body. 

she doesn’t necessarily need aether considering she’s in the Source, but she still has a craving for it. 

she only wants to have fun; she found the Thirteenth boring and dull but the Source? The Source is full of people she can play with to her heart’s content. 

recently, she’s caught a whiff of aether so enticing, so delicious that she’s can’t quite bring herself to think about anything else. 

she otw to eat Allan

more on naila!

Asclepius 2.0 (yet another shard of Allan)

Age: early 30s Gender: cis male Orientation: pansexual Eye colour: purple Hair colour: black Skin colour: brown Height: 209cm (6′10) Notable features: long scar across right cheek to right eye Job: ??? FSH

Brief bio:

bascially a reincarnated shard of asclepius that has fragmented memories of ancient times 

what shard who knows

he is vibing and just wants to fish 

was p much mistaken as one of the Fourteen upon recruitment but then they found out he’s just a normal dude back in ancient times so they just kept him subservient LKJASKLFj

more on asclepius 2.0!

OTHER:

Mahalina (Allan’s sister)

Age: appears late 20s/early 30s Gender: cis female Orientation: asexual panromantic Eye colour: emerald green Hair colour: magenta Skin colour: brown Height: 192cm (6′3) Notable features: very scarred up body, indicative of heavy torture. she wears heavy-duty make-up to hide burns on her face. Job: GNB

she’s a filthy pvper LKJAFSLKSJf

a big sister so she takes on responsibility a lot + has/had a lot of pressure from her mother when in sharlayan, so she can seem v snobbish and arrogant. she loosens up a bit during post-hw!

starts her search for allan during post-hw as well and finally finds him in post-sb T___T

then she suffers a near-fatal injury and disappears during ew... smadge...

more on mahalina!

OTHER BLOGS: @omnirush, @chacss

[awooga-llama]

Comfort

This was originally written for my creative writing class as an OC x DSMP so beware if you see any remains of my oc, just let me know and I'll fix it. 

Platonic! Karl Jacobs x AFAB! Reader

(Y/N) had planned this road trip for ages. It started as just George and her going, but later many more of her friends joined. Her old van had plenty of room for everyone, but she wanted to just spend time with her second closest friend. The trip was arranged to take place in the middle of December, so they had plenty of time to drive up the east coast and sightsee.

The days flew by in a blink of an eye. (Y/N) had a list of everyone who would go and how many bags everyone had.

It was now two days before their assigned time to leave, and (Y/N) was completing some things. She hadn't had a good night's sleep in the past week because she was trying to make everything perfect. Her roommates helped as much as she'd let them, which in all honesty wasn't a lot. Usually, (Y/N) didn't care for plans, living like a leaf in the wind, going with the flow.

Karl was getting worried for his house buddy; he's seen them do all kinds of reckless things but they never kept her up at night. The fluffy brown-haired man looked at the wall clock in his office, the face reading two fifteen in the morning; he knew George was sound asleep, whether it be in his own office, in his bed with the left side empty, or in the living room on the futon, that Karl wasn't sure of. He only knew that the mushroom boy was in dreamland. So when he heard the jingling of keys and shuffling of feet, the man knew it was his other friend who was up.

Karl stood up from his desk and walked out to the hallway, being wary of the squeaky hinges on the office door.

He could see (Y/N) standing in front of the fridge, most likely looking for her energy drink that he had drunk earlier. Her roommate could see the black bags under his friend's eyes, she had also lost some weight due to her recent diet of plain toast and stovetop ramen noodles. Karl felt as if he was living with a zombie these days, even George was concerned for her sake.

"(Y/N/N), what are you doing up this late? You look like death visited you." The girl turned to look at Karl, she rubbed her face with both hands and closed the fridge doors.

"I could ask you the same thing Jacobs, and thanks I know I look good you didn't have to say it." It was good to see she still had humour. (Y/N) moved to sit on one of the island chairs where some papers sat on the counter next to her laptop that had the brightness turned up, pictures of hotel rooms and prices on its screen. Karl went and sat next to her, grabbing her cold hands in his own and pulling them into the sleeves of his sweater to warm 'em up.

"I'm just worried for you, I've noticed the changes you're going through," She was going to say something but he cut her off, "and don't say there haven't been any changes. When was the last time you actually slept, like a 10-hour night?" His friend just shook her head and shrugged.

"I don't know honestly. I just want to make this trip perfect for everyone, I just don't want anyone to be disappointed." Her forehead scrunched slightly showing she was being vulnerable, her facial expressions were the reason she could never get away with hiding her stronger emotions.

"The trip is already going to be amazing, you don't need to focus on the little things." He pulled her closer into his embrace and she didn't fight him.

"The fine print of the trip is important though Karl, if it's not enjoyable for everyone then they're never gonna want to hang out with me again. Especially him. The only one who would stay for sure is Kingsley and that's only because he's my chosen family." She had tear tracks running down her face and Karl almost immediately knew the true reason behind her need for perfection.

"You're afraid of letting down George and Dream aren't you?" His blue eyes met her (Y/E/C) ones, all she did was nod and bury her face in his sweater.

"If they care about you as much as you care about them then the way the trip turns out shouldn't matter because the best part of it will be anything involving you." He said rubbing small circles on his friend's upper back. (Y/N) mumbled a thank you and after she calmed down.

The two of them went to George's room and fell asleep snuggling there with him and the house cat. Just one more day till the actual trip. Just one.

Before the tags, enjoy a cuddly picture of Karl 💙

[polizwrites]

Cherry Red and Midnight Blue

Vaguely inspired by last week’s  @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt [#FFF132 A Taste of Blue]   - this ficlet is also a fill for my @starkbucksbingo  Holding Hands prompt and will be added to Ao3 later this week.

Fandom: MCU/Marvel -- Pairing:  pre-slash Tony & Bucky -- Rating: General -- Word Count 793

“C’mere  Buckaroo,”  Tony called out as Bucky stepped off the elevator into the workshop, “I got something for you.”  

“You do?”  Bucky had thought the Avengers’ holiday gift exchange was done; especially after what was supposed to be a light-hearted game of  Yankee Swap turned into a near fist-fight when Clint refused to hand over the five-pound Gummy Bear to anyone else.    Admittedly, Bucky had one more present stashed away himself, waiting for the right opportunity. 

“It’s not much,”  Tony shrugged, “but I didn’t want to take a chance of someone else snitching it away.”   He casually slid a small, flat box across the workbench.    Bucky knew Tony well enough by now to recognize when something meant more to him than what he was letting on, and it piqued Bucky’s curiosity something fierce. 

He picked the box up, turning it over to look for a label or other hint as to what it was.   Tony made an impatient, ‘go ahead’ gesture and   Bucky lifted the lid to see a pair of black leather gloves.  No, not black, he realized when he looked closer,  but a dark, dark blue.   “Try them on, “ Tony urged him.  “I want to make sure they fit.” 

They slid on like a second skin.  “These are really nice,  Tony,” Bucky murmured, flexing his fingers.   “Where’d you get them?” 

Tony’s cheeks went pink. “I, um, made them.” 

“You’re kidding!”  Bucky blurted out, the coincidence catching him by surprise. 

“No - I mean, it wasn’t all that hard,” Tony replied, with a touch of embarrassed pleasure.   “I already had your measurements from all the work I’ve done on your arm, and JARVIS was able to adapt the existing pattern for me.  The color’s a little off, though - I wanted them to be more of an indigo, like your old jacket.  And here, look,”  he took Bucky’s hand, turning it over and pointing to the tips of the glove’s  index finger and thumb.  “Those silver threads are conductive - so you can use touchscreens with the gloves still on.” 

Tony’s excited outpouring of words warmed Bucky as much as the gloves did; the fact that his friend (who, to be honest, he’d like to have be more than a friend) had taken the time to make something just for him, well, it meant the world to Bucky.  Even if it made his own gift pale in comparison.  

“Thank you, Tony.   And I got a little somethin’ for you as well.”    Bucky went over to the locker where he stashed the little projects he was working on, and took out  a colorful bag topped with tissue paper.  He’d snuck it down here the week before, while Tony was on a business trip, and had originally just planned to leave it as an unsigned surprise.  But Tony’s generosity had sparked the desire to respond in kind. 

Bucky set the bag down on the bench.  “Here.  I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Tony said, his polite smile turning into an amused grin as he opened the bag.  “Huh - I guess great minds think alike!”    He pulled out the bright red mittens.  “Check ‘em out - JARVIS!  They match the armor perfectly!  And look - there’s repulsors knitted into the palms!” 

“Indeed, sir,” the AI replied.  “I assisted Sergeant Barnes with the design.” 

“Wait - you made these?”  Tony looked at Bucky, his whiskey brown eyes wide with surprise and maybe a touch of admiration. 

“Yeah.  Steve’s ma taught him and me both how to knit. Lemme show ya something.”  Bucky took Tony’s hand,   slipped a  mitten onto it, then showed him how to flip the top of the mitten back to expose the built-in fingerless gloves.   “In case you need to  mess with your phone or something. Tho if I’d known about that conductive thread--” 

“They’re perfect just the way they are - I love them!”  Tony declared, cradling the mittens to his chest.   Bucky felt his cheeks heat at the praise. 

“They’re wool, so if they get dirty, don’t just toss ‘em in the wash,” he warned; it was easier to talk about the mittens than acknowledge how much Tony’s reaction meant to him.  

“I’ll take very good care of them.” Tony replied solemnly. “They’re the best present I’ve gotten in a very long time.  Hey - I’ve got an idea.  Let’s go try them out!”  He slipped the other mitten on,  then took Bucky’s hand.    There’s a great Italian restaurant just a couple of blocks away.  My treat.” 

“Sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.”  The words tumbled out before Bucky could stop them.  

“I guess I kinda am,” Tony paused, his enthusiasm dimming ever so slightly. “I mean, if that’s what you want it to be.”  

Bucky squeezed Tony’s hand firmly. “I sure do.” 

[kechiwrites]

Asphodel

Hades!Endeavor x Reader

wc: ~1k

“We were playing and gathering lovely flowers in our hands, an assortment of delicate crocus, iris, and hyacinth, rosebuds and lilies, a wonder to behold, and the narcissus, which is grown, like the crocus, by the wide earth. I was joyfully gathering the flowers, and then the earth beneath me gave way, and there it was that he sprang out, the powerful lord who receives many guests.”

                                                            -  Hymn of Demeter, Homer

warnings: mild angst, mild sexual content, allusions to myth typical themes (kidnapping, zeus being an asshole, etc.) 18+

author’s note: this is a short one but i used all of my degree to write it, enji is a tired old man. what can i say? i like em beaten down. special thanks to @enjifuckersupreme​ and @pleasantanathema​ for basically betaing my thesis.

The flowers bloom and die under your fingertips. Nothing lives here for long; it’s a wonder you’re still alive yourself. Your fingers and wrists are covered in gold rings and bangles that clink together with the slightest of movements, gifts, dropped at the foot of your bed for you to awaken to in the morning. Or what must be the morning, it’s hard to tell down here, the sun is so far removed from this world. Instead, your room is kept alight with candles, dozens of candles on every surface that can bear them. The carved stone night tables, the cold granite floor, the wooden stools near your adjoining baths.

Your gifts jingle again, disturbing the quiet of your solitude, when you try to nurture another pale aster bud into life only to have it wither under your hands, just like the others. The gifter’s shadow looms over you in an instant, suddenly present where he was not, no door could keep him from you, and he’d stopped bothering to ask for entry once you’d stopped crying. He thought it had been progress.

A clay cup is placed before you, filled to the top with dark, black soil. 

“I know you’re unhappy here, Kore.” His voice is so quiet, as if he almost wants you to miss it.

You do not miss it.

Your anger flares to the surface and you shove the cup to the ground, the sound of shattering filling the space between you when you whirl on him. “Do not call me that. You do not call me that. That’s not my name anymore.” 

For a moment his expression is sad, his eyes are glassy and unfocused and he drags them from your downturned mouth to the destroyed pottery. 

It was grief, initially, that drove you to him. 

Grief made you push open the heavy stone doors of his rooms and fall into his waiting arms. Grief that made you undo your golden stays, slip linen from your shoulders and press your hands against his scarred chest, cheek. Grief made you take him in your mouth and swallow him down, into you, where he would remain forever. Grief made you take him between your legs and beg him again and again to spill on your thighs and in your cunt. Grief made you forsake your eternal vow, your purpose. Grief changed your name. Grief made you his wife.

Loneliness made you come back the next night.

And the night after.

You need a new name, one to take when you inevitably leave this place. Your divine origin stands, virginity or not, and the name you had before you became the Herald of Spring hangs in your mind, but it would be wrong to go back. To be the person you used to be.

You stare at him for a while, anger sapped from you as fast as it came. King of everything that surrounds you, The One Who Receives Many Guests. You’d been scared of him at one time, hiding behind your mother’s golden skirts when he’d been pushed from the rest of you. Gifted the Underworld as his domain, pressured to split from his brothers to undertake bureaucracy, no praise, no worship, just fear. He’d seemed powerful back then, decades or centuries or perhaps millenia ago. His eyes, so bright a blue, that when they’d turned on you you’d cowered. Back then he had smiled at you. And you grew tall grass to hide behind. Now the slope of his shoulders are weary, the pallor of his skin so sickly, being deprived from sunlight for so long. So far removed from the man who’d split the earth to take you, who dragged you from the fields, from the hands and love and sight of your friends, your mother. 

He is pitiful.

You take pity on him.

You stoop to the ground, kneeling at his feet and begin to sweep the soil back into your hands. 

“K-” He stops himself from angering you again and when he places his hand on your shoulder, the heat of his flesh on yours shocks you. It’s the only thing that surprises you anymore. The God of the Dead being so warm. 

“Don’t worry about that. You could cut yourself.”

“I’m not a child Enji, I can clean without injury.” You had begun calling him by his own name in an effort to irritate him, to provoke him into anger, into striking you or forcing you, into doing anything that would stoke the dying rage and resentment under your ribs after days and weeks of nothing. But he would not react, and soon his name became a comfort to you. You called it when you came to him, when he placed his mouth at the bend of your knees, and at the swell of your hip and between your legs. 

Before he can pull you upright, you see it. The clusters of ugly brown roots hidden in the spilled dirt on the floor. Quickly, you push the dirt around to surround the juvenile roots before rising to deposit it into an empty pot by your bedside.

“Asphodel. They’ll grow unimpeded here. I realize they may be unappealing to you, but I know you miss it, the green.” He shifts closer to you, stepping so hesitantly into your space.

“Mother called them weeds.” Your voice almost shakes with awe while you will the plant to grow. A strong green stem shoots upward, and bright white flowers bloom, pointing towards the ceiling. Their gentle scent is a balm to you, and you feel for the first time since your marriage began, at ease.

“Demeter has been open in her disdain for them, yes,” you hear him shift and the bed sinks with weight, “However, I thought you might appreciate them.” His voice is unsure, like it always is unless he is above you, or under you. Or behind you, in one fervoured instance. 

With one hand clasped around the rim of the pot, (as though it may have disappeared were you to break contact), and one hand resting on your bed, the smallest of your fingers brushes his thigh. You will not withdraw.

“I do. Appreciate them.” You do not look at him. Instead, you watch the flower’s column of buds open into starry blossoms.

[zukump3]

fixated ✰ s. aizawa

aizawa takes interest after you, but he doesn’t really know how to go about it.

genre: fluff, some smut in the second part! fem!reader

warnings: two parter!! aizawa has a CRUSHHHH, he pins after you heavily, counselor!reader. zawa used to have a thing with ms joke, black!reader

a/n: this idea was super cute so i had to write it. i hope you guys like it!!

requested: yes!!

part 2 (coming soon)

Aizawa has never been one for dating. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a relationship.

Back in high school, when he sat in the very desks his students sat in, he was often teased at by Mic about getting a partner. The hero tried to set him up on dates, give random people his number and all types of other methods, but Aizawa was just never interested. No one really caught his attention that way... until Fukukado came along.

She was everything he despised. She was loud, she talked too much, and she never took anything serious. But somehow she made her way into his cold heart and he indulged in her.

He enjoyed his time with her. Underneath all that goofiness she was a sweet woman who cared deeply for her job and her students. Aizawa felt emotions he had never felt with her, and was a bit peeved when they split. However, they remained friends. Since then, he hasn’t bothered dating with anyone.

“Have you seen the new counselor?!” Aizawa opened one eye to see Kaminari and Sero gushing as they entered the class. “She’s sooo hot. And she’s foreign!”

“Doesn’t she speak English and Japanese fluently though? She’s smart and attractive, jeez.” Sero huffed, and Aizawa furrowed his brow, zipping down his zipper on his yellow sleeping bag.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Miss L/N!” They both yelled, making Aizawa blink. “She’s our new counselor. She said parents were complaining that the students mental health wasn’t being cared about enough, so U.A hired her. She’s from America too.”

“America.” Aizawa groaned. He already had an image in his own eyes—a stereotypically one, but oh well. You probably had blonde hair and blue eyes. There was probably nothing special about you at all. His students weren’t as used to foreigners, so of course they would find you attractive.

Throughout the entire day he kept hearing his students chatter about you. About how kind you were, how pretty your voice sounded, how you looked so unique. He was getting peeved—why was everyone so hung up on you?

He carried the thought with him until the end of the day, when he headed down the hall to what seemed to be your room, just as you were leaving.

And—wow. He really understood why everyone was talking about you.

You weren’t blonde haired, blue eyed at all. Your hair was in a fluffy afro, like Mina’s but kinkier. You had the most supple brown skin and dark eyes that lit up when they caught his. His eyes widened a bit at just how radiating you seemed, your multi colored lips raising into a smile.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Aizawa! I’m L/N,” you spoke, your hand pushing out to shake his. He shook your hand silently, noting at how warm your palm was against his cold one. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your students!”

“You’ve met them?” he asked, voice deep with shock.

“Ahh, well, they kind of pranked me earlier,” you said sheepishly. “They came banging on my door and said there was a fire, and that I needed to leave as soon as I could. But then they said they were just joking when I was about to jump out my window,” you laughed, shaking your head. “They’re pretty goofy huh?”

Aizawa couldn’t help but note at how good your Japanese was. He knew English and Japanese were two different languages—you must’ve been pretty smart and hardworking to learn it.

“Well, I have to go do paperwork at my apartment-hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” you smiled once again. Aizawa only nodded and then you were off, with his eyes burning into your back.

His fists clenched. You were much more attractive than he originally imagined. But he wasn’t going to indulge—he knew that would only end badly.

Right?

The next day, Aizawa heard the same chatter about you. And the next. And the next. He didn’t see you again until about a week later, when he saw you chatting with Midnight and Mic in the lunch line. He cringed—the two were notorious for gossiping and he really hoped they weren’t telling you anything stupid.

“And then I—aye yo, Zawa! Good afternoon! Have you met L/N?!” Mic screamed, and Aizawa’s eyes went to meet yours ago. Your hair was styled differently to the point where he could see your eyes better, and it framed your face so nicely. You waved at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“We were just talking about our high school days~” Midnight’s voice rang out. “American high school is reaaaally different from Japanese high school, according to L/N.”

“The students here are really well behaved, especially in Aizawa’s class,” you smiled at him. “You’re doing a damn good job with them. They’re some of the most charming students I’ve seen! The ones in American high school can be really rude and nasty... I haven’t experienced any of that here. It’s nice.”

Aizawa breathed shakily. Thank god his students weren’t embarrassing him.

“L/N here’s got a degree in psychology and all that mental stuff!” Mic yelled once again as you all moved down the lunch line. “She understands da brain! We really needed someone like her here, with all the breakdowns our students have!”

Aizawa huffed. Teachers, too.

“I’m here for everyone,” you spoke. “Students, teachers, even the Recovery Girl if she’s got a lot on her mind. I’m just here to help everybody as much as I can.”

“Aizawa needs some of that help fo sure!” Mic yelled, smiling so hard all of his long, white teeth showed. “Motherheffa never talks to anyone about his feelings, keeps em balled up! That’s not healthy!”

Aizawa’s ears turned red. “No, I don’t need-“

“I’ll help ya!” you offered, moving so your body was right next to his. He couldn’t help but inhale your scent—it was strong and sweet, something he’d never smelled before. “Don’t worry—whatever we discuss in my room stays in my room. It’s something I pledged to do when I became a therapist.”

Aizawa laughed nervously, shaking his head. “I really don’t-“

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna have a session immediately, no worries,” you shrugged. “But I’m here whenever you need me. I have more work to do later, but I’ll see you guys later!”

And then you were off, with Aizawa’s eyes still on your back.

“You’re staring pretty hard Aizawa,” Midnight raised perfectly done eyebrows. “She’s pretty—I would stare too.”

“Be quiet.” He spluttered, his ears still red as he made his way back to his classroom to eat.

Another week had passed of Aizawa admiring you from afar. You always came into work with a smile on your face, greeting students with handshakes and hugs—the hugs threw him off a bit, but Kaminari told him it was an “American thing.” He didn’t know how much he would daydream about it until he started to long for hugs from you, thinking of how your arms would wrap around his middle before class.

He wasn’t obsessed with you, no, but rather infatuated. You were intelligent and easy to approach, and your appearance matched your personality. He was attracted to you but due to him not having a relationship in years and also not having the best social skills, he had no idea how to approach you. He didn’t even know much about you. His students knew you more than he did and you were his age! It made no sense.

Time after time during the third week of you being here he tried to talk to you. During lunch, when Midnight and Mic would force you all to sit together, he would want to open his mouth but he couldn’t. He’d come by your room to start conversations after school but the most he’d say was “have a good evening, L/N.” and leave you alone. He even found your social media and took a quick look through your pictures—leaving your page when he saw you in a bikini, his cheeks red.

By the time the fourth week came around, his students and his work buddies were noticing his changes in behavior. He was getting distracted much more than before and whenever someone would mention your name he’d go scarily silent and look deep in thought. It wasn’t until Mina chatted with the rest of the Bakusquad that his students actually began to do something about it.

“Miss L/N!” you heard Jirou’s voice rang out from your doorway, with some other students from Class 1-A coming in behind you. “Good evening~”

“Good evening Jirou! Hey everyone,” you smiled warmly at the students that were entering your classroom, confused as how many of them were coming in. “What’s up...?”

You had formed a pretty close relationship with the class of 1-A during your short time here. You had sessions with most of them and got to know their personalities and feelings pretty well—even Bakugo, who was closed up and rude at first, but eventually shed a few tears in your room.

“Mr. Aizawa said he needed your help with planning lessons today—he said he’s asked everyone else and they’re all busy,” Mina told you, and your brows furrowed in confusion. Aizawa needs help from... you? That was odd. “He needs you to come by as soon as possible!”

“Oh! Well, alright,” you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you stood up and grabbed your phone. “Thanks for telling me—you all get to your dorms and don’t cause too much noise okay?”

You heard rings of “yes, miss l/n’s” as everyone left your room and you locked it behind you. You started to make your way to Aizawa’s classroom, your palms a little sweaty against your notebook. You hadn’t talked to Aizawa in a while and it was weird that he had requested your help, but you didn’t mind getting closer to him. Truthfully, he had been on your mind a lot the past few days—you found him pretty attractive despite his quiet demeanor. Although, you were a new teacher, and didn’t want to be involved with anyone too early in your school year.

Aizawa jumps a bit when he hears sudden loud knocks on your door, and sees your face come into view. “Good evening, Aizawa. You needed my help?”

“Huh?” Aizawa asked, his face twisted in confusion.

“Jirou and Mina came by and said you needed my help with lesson planning—I’m not the best with planning stuff to teach but I don’t mind offering my assistance,” you offered him your normal, gentle smile. “So where do we start?”

Mina and Jirou? Ugh. Of course they would tell you that.

“Um-um-well,” he stuttered, his face already starting to heat up. “I just need a new quirk training game... yeah. That’s why I need help with.” Fuck. He hoped that sounded believable.

“Okay!” you nodded, suddenly taking a seat that was in the corner of the room and sitting right. Next. To. Him. He had to clench his fists to keep his cool, not used to such an attractive woman being so close to him at all. “Where should we start?”

He spent two hours with you discussing new games to play with his students that would also train their quirks, and those were some of the best two hours of his life.

He so enjoyed the time he spent with you. You were so easygoing and natural to talk to—he didn’t feel awkward or nervous talking to you which is what he feared he would feel in the first place. He cracked more smiles with you in the span of two hours than he did the whole week.

“You can’t just make them play dodgeball with their quirks! They’ll get hurt!”

“We have a Recovery Girl for a reason.” Aizawa rolled his eyes, smirking at the glare he got from you.

“Still! You know some of them—Bakugo—are going to take out their anger on other students,” you huffed.

“But it’ll be fun to watch?”

You were quiet for a moment, but inevitably started smirking along with him. “...you’re right. It will be.”

Together, the both of you planned for Class 1-A dodgeball, with you and Aizawa as the referees. You two even planned to go by the outfits together—and now he was out at a sporting store with you, looking for a fucking black and white striped shirt. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’ve never worn one of these before—you think I’ll look cute in it?” you asked him, raising your eyebrows repeatedly and he couldn’t help but chuckle gently at your antics. “I’m serious!”

“I’m sure you will F/N,” he told you, not even noticing his slip up until a few moments later. “I—I meant-“

“So we’re on second base huhhhh? Don’t worry, I’ve accidentally called you Shota a few times to Mic and Midnight. I’m not used to calling people by their last names, we don’t do that in America.”

“You talk about me?” Aizawa couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the fact.

“What?! Of course not, no.” you quickly shook your head, and he grinned at the flustered look on your face. “The only thing I tell them about is how you need more sleep. Your brain doesn’t function correctly on a small amount of sleep.”

“My brain doesn’t function correctly at all.”

“Wrong. You’re pretty smart, Aizawa. Pretty understanding too,” you hummed, you two walking through the aisles so you could get whistles. “Your students are always telling me how much you care about them, even though you don’t show it. They really appreciate you you know?”

He was expressionless, but his heart did warm a little bit at your words. “I know.”

You two bought the items and soon enough you were back at the school. You got out of his car, sending him a wave and a quick goodbye before heading to your own car, and Aizawa let out the longest sigh of his life.

“Shit.”

[sirensmojo]

"KINDRED",5 - Tommy Shelby x Reader (x Alfie Solomons).

Warnings: Alfie is a warning, mention of abduction, swearing, guns, fluff & slight angst at the end.

Summary: You're an ex war-nurse reconverted as the leader of a feminist organisation. You join forces with the leader of the backstreet Birmingham gang, Thomas Shelby, to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 5K+

AN: Gina's family is totally OC as we know nothing about her in the show / POV alternate between characters' and Y/N's.

*Masterlist*

❰ ​Previous Chapter

*Margate, Solomons’ residence*

“Alfie!” You exclaimed. You were wearing a white woollen coat with fur around your neck, the same coloured futrzane at the top of your head flattening your finger-waved hair on each part of your face.

Under the woollen coat, you wore a light brown satin dress covering your full body with white high heels. Your look wouldn’t be complete without your blue stones jewellery collection of necklace and earrings. Your golden rings complimented her fingers above one of your white lace gloves.

That was the sound of your heels that made the man turn his head, his mind was elsewhere and he didn’t hear your call.

“Eh, eh, eh. Who that might be, huh, none other than Y/L/N.” He muttered to himself, squinting his eyes looking towards you.

You got closer to him and met with a frowning maid that looked at you with envy at the back of her eyes. You offered her a genuinely warm smile that let your white teeth out, which confused the maid.

“Glad to see you’re still breathing, Captain.” You reached to him.

You were always seemed to be open and all heart with women whereas you were the opposite with men.

“And what you be doing here, love? Thought I left you back in the smoke, innit?”

“Well I’m here Alfie, that war’s done, but there’s another one coming.” Y/N said outright. You stopped in front of him, took off the glove free of rings and passed your fingers through his hair, down to his cheek. Alfie remained silent as Y/N's fingers sprinkled his skin with sparks.

You grabbed his chin between your index and thumb, moving his head to the side, you were examining the damage that has been done to his right eye. “I met him.” You solemnly let out.

He already knew who you were referring to.

“He a fucking bookmaker, what you have with him?” He innocently let out, which made you chuckle a bit as you sat down on the sofa in front of him.

You clicked your tongue before slowly putting back your glove. “I love you, Alfie. There’s no bad blood between us but you know me. So don’t fucking try me.” Your threat was covered with an implied mention of your intertwined past, so you would reason with him with both reason and sentiment.

He grabbed the binoculars laying down next to him and raised it vertically towards the sea. “Fucking birds making noise all day annoying my peace of mind... If our mate didn’t shoot me I’ll be shooting ‘em, you know.”

“He was here before me, so you know he entered politics, Alfred.”

He glanced at you hearing his full name on your lips. No one but you ever called him that, and he had forgotten that habit of yours.

“I mean, he would’ve shot me anyway, right. But aiming right is free, innit?” He looked away. “Even at night, they be fucking screaming, mate. Try sleeping in some fucking screaming box.”

“You have trouble sleeping?” You snapped back, interested, catching the man's attention. He knew exactly what you were referencing to, shared memories about sharing beds during war.

“Not like that.” He got back to looking in his binoculars, choosing not to go on to that path.

“Not like that, huh?” You raised your brows at him, he had opened the gates and shall have what he asked for.

You let your coat fall on your arms, showing your naked shoulders and tilted your head. “We could still work it, like good old times, eh?” You teased the man, your Y/E/C piercing eyes not leaving his face.

Alfie didn’t even look at you. “Where’s your gun, Y/N?” He asked, presenting his palm to you, waiting. “Care to give it here for a sec?”

And without even thinking twice you grabbed your little gun from your shoulder holster under your coat and placed it in Solomon’s hand. You were watching his movements as he cocked the gun and aimed something outside the house you surmised to be the birds he was talking about.

“Thought you’d hand me one of your rifles, mad deceived ‘am now” He followed the targets with the gun without daring to shoot.

“War’s over, Alfie.” You put back on your coat and lit a cig before leaning backwards on the sofa, making yourself comfortable.

“Came in here telling me some war coming, now telling me it’s done…Come on, pick a struggle, love” He grumbled to himself as shifting his position.

“I lied. Actually, the war’s already here, and I have both feet in.” You raised your brows, smoking your cig.

“Me none.”

“Not yet.” You snapped back, getting up. “Look, Alfred. Margate’s not doing you any justice. Get back in business, come back to London.” You encouraged him. “You didn’t welcome me when I set foot in town. Didn’t even kiss me ‘bonjour’ *talking french* (=hello). I need my Captain back.” Your voice lowered on the last part as if you were pouting.

“Did you ever put your palm on one eye, eh? When child, you do that to see if life is any different seen by one eye or the other. You cover one eye with your palm and look fucking far away, yea. I used to do that often, you?” He stops what he was doing to glance at you, that was standing near him.

“No.”

“Well, life’s fucking different. Yeah” He nodded to himself confirming his story. “It really is, one eye doesn't show what you see with the other. I’m fucking blind, now. Can only see one side of life, can’t I?” He turned to you, staring. Under his confusing metaphor, he was talking common sense, and it wasn’t difficult for you to decrypt his code as you knew the character.

What he was saying was simple, the experience with Tommy & the Italians made him insensible to the things that used to interest him before. Business and power weren’t things he cared about now.

You silently nodded before sitting right next to him. You put a palm onto one of your eyes and looked to the sea, searching for the screaming birds. Once you found one, you rushed your hand under your dress, to the inside of your thighs, your hand came out with another gun that you pointed straight forward before shooting.

A bird’s helpless scream was heard before Alfie’s mouth opened. “Damn, woman. You still got this.”

“You just gotta picture what’s behind the black spot, Alfred. You fucking draw the lines in your head, because you’ve seen them. They’re here, somewhere in your mind, you just gotta draw them.” You muttered to his ear and he let out an “Um.” before trying to also shoot a bird.

(...)

When Y/L/N's foot touched the gravels of Small Heath’s ground, each women’s head turned to her as a disturbing silence spread over the crowd. She got out of the car when Lizzie opened her mouth, catching the attention of Polly, “He’s fucking her.” She spat with disgust, her eyes filled with jealousy and fear of losing Thomas once again.

Once a month, the peaky girls joined the reunion of women in Small Heath’s streets. This meeting's purposes were to one, show men that women, too, could gather, and second, to scare the institutions and politics about the numbers of women ready to fight for their rights. It was originally organized by Jessie Eden, a communist & feminist leader, but quickly was taken over by Y/F/N and her organisation.

Deleting the "communist" part of this meeting surely helped women gathered even more as they knew they weren’t directly taking sides in political matters, so the risk of getting arrested was low.

Polly’s eyes went from Lizzie to Y/N, who was shaking hands with some women wearing a soft smile along with a determined gaze. “Saw her once, going out of Tommy's office.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Every woman he be fucking went to his office.” She seemed fed-up, one of her feet angrily taping the ground back and forth.

“What business does Tommy have with a feminist?” Pol’ utterly murmured to herself, frowning. What was her surprise when she recognized the other woman coming out of the car, being none other than Ada.

The Thorne, initially Shelby woman, stood right next to Y/N, her brown hat set down on her finger waved hair. She wore her cream woollen coat with fur on her neck and ends of sleeves with pale rose heels. Her nails were bordeau-painted and complimented the red of her lips.

Polly never thought of Ada being interested in anything but communism, but here her niece was, and the thing that hit the Gray woman the most was that Ada seemed to belong there, talking to women and shamelessly shaking their hands. She wasn’t as reserved and distant as she usually was when around people.

“Let’s get out of here.” Polly started to walk away.

Lizzie frowned, “No reunion today?” She seemed relieved, she will not have to face the blonde woman that troubled her most lately.

“No reunion today.” Pol responded. She didn’t want to learn anything from Ada’s activities by spying, but she’ll surely try to draw it out of her later.

(...)

“You what?”

“Ada, sit.” You motioned to the nearest chair.

After the reunion, they both went to the house you bought for the organisation. It wasn’t big, nor elegant. It was a simple Small Heath’s house reconverted in an office.

If you wanted to stand a chance in changing the traditional standards toward women’s place in society, you needed to expand your organisation. You would put cabinets at each corner of the streets if needed. Women needed to know they stood a chance, they needed to know they weren’t alone in their battle and they needed to know they are protected, and that part, you made sure to honour.

“No, I’m not going to fucking sit. You didn’t talk about abducting somebody’s daughter, Y/N!”

Even if you didn’t have the police in your pocket, Tommy did, and their deal gave you the assurance you'll be able to run your business the way you wanted to. It was always better to have someone else command people to leave you alone than you using your high social status to get what you wanted. This way, if things went bad, it wouldn’t be you that’ll take the blame.

You sighed while raising your brows at Ada’s reaction. You pulled out your cigarette case and lit one that you handed her. Thorne took it and went to sit on the sofa, leaning her back to get comfortable.

“Damn, you’re just like him.” Ada let out, glancing at you who let out a “Huh?” of confusion.

You were intently looking at her as she also seated on the couch in front of you. You ignited yourself a cig and puffed on it, waiting for the other woman to process the information of you abducting Gina Gray.

“It’s like I’m in a meeting with Tommy.” She sighed. “It’s always about business and I can’t read him.”

In other words, you didn’t need Tommy to keep the police away from your activities, you could do it yourself if you wanted to. But taking care of this yourself meant to jeopardize each person in your organisation, and you couldn’t afford to risk it all.

“I saw you leaving the library with one of my women.” You blatantly let out, smoking your cig.

Ada frowned and shifted her position, she was uncomfortable. “She’s interested in communism.” She tried to defend herself as her cheeks reddened.

“I’m not judging you, I’m showing you it’s not always about business.”

“I was talking about you, not me.”

“This organisation is me, Ada, and you’re in it now. I know everything I need to know about it and I do everything I need to do for it.” You leaned towards the brown-haired woman.

In fact, it wasn’t at all about the expensive jewellery, nor the luxurious heels. It was about you having a family you cared about even if your kin weren’t blood-related.

Even if Ada understood what the woman in front of her meant, she couldn’t help but to roll her eyes, she heard this speech many times before, upon her brother’s lips. “Yeah, totally Tommy.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re always avoiding the subject when I talk about him.”

“He’s not my business.”

“Lizzie would argue otherwise.” Ada raised a brow at you, meaning she knew what happened when you and Lizzie first met in Tommy’s office.

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“What is it between my brother and you?” She asked.

“You’re bored, Ada. That’s why you want the details. Get back with that woman you found and spend time together, huh?” You dismissed the Shelby woman. And this time, Ada scoffed because Tommy once told her the exact same thing about her being bored.

You gained composure again and straightened back up, “You with me on that or what?” Your tone suddenly went serious again, and Ada’s expression changed.

“Why do you ask about my opinion, don’t you like giving orders all the time?” Ada teased the Y/E/C eyed woman. Y/L/N liked that about the Shelby sister, she was always pushy without being aware.

“Stop being petty, Ada. You’re more of a thinker rather than a doer.” She dismissed the remarks.

“So why do you want my help in the first place?” Ada pondered, confusion in her eyes. The things Y/N struggled to understand was how Ada didn’t see the potential that resided in her. She would always diminish herself and her power for some reason when Y/L/N thought of her as a force of nature that begged to shine.

“I just need that pettiness and fearlessness of yours. Like a kind of representative.”

“Of you?”

You shook your head. “Representative of the organisation.”

“It’s Michael’s wife and I’m a Shelby, meaning she’s family.”

“You’re a Thorne, Ada. And these fucking people out here don’t give a fuck whose side you’re on. They’ll kill you whenever they get the occasion to. I know you don’t like this, but it’s a Shelby I need on this field.” You were pointing your index at the windows, leaning toward Ada.

“You know Gina's people?” Ada exclaimed, raising her hands in exasperation.

You tilted your head to the side to confirm, your eyes deeply in Shelby’s.

“Am a Thorne or a Shelby on the field?” Ada raised a brow to you.

“Both are strengths.”

(...)

You were sitting at the counter of the Garrison, sharing a drink with Arthur when the doors opened on Tommy. You didn’t see him come your way, but Arthur did. He glanced at his brother and grabbed his own drink before joining people elsewhere ignoring your presence.

You looked at him, frowning, and that’s when you turned around you noticed Tommy’s presence. You rolled your eyes at him. “You like to scare off my dates?” You sat back down, sipping on your drink.

“I like the dress,” Tommy said, ordering a whiskey. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but God knows it was because of the look he gave you while entering the pub that Arthur went away.

“Yeah?” You questioned quite surprised Tommy noticed you weren’t dressed as usual. “It’s different from the suits.” You added, seeing he wasn’t going to pursue the conversation.

The blue-eyed man glanced at Y/N's drink. “You drink rum now?” He grabbed his cigarette case and ignited one before handing it to the woman that gladly took it, a smile on her lips. He lit another one for himself.

“You’re alcoholic enough to tell the difference between whiskey and rum without tasting it?” Your suave voice made him look at you as clenching his jaw at your remark, this was all you would get from him.

“I’ve met with Mr Solomons, I thought it was the least I could do to buy some bottles of his.” Tommy’s eyes that were staring at Y/N's lips went up in a hurry when hearing her confession.

“You did what?” Thomas turned so his body faced the woman, his eyes anchored deeply in hers.

He was never so sure about your intentions, nothing was ever sure with you, whereas it was your feelings or what was in your head. And your unreadable face didn’t help a bit.

“I’m drinking rum, now.” You raised your brows at him, cheerfully.

The warmth your smile ignited in him wasn’t enough to make him forget about what you just said. Tommy’s lids fluttered as he remained silent, blankly looking at you. He was aware you thought of Alfie to run the south, as well as himself, but he didn’t expect you to be so direct and visit Alfie Solomons that fast.

“Stop looking at me like that, Tommy. You knew about Alfred and me.”

A wave of questions flowed through his mind, from the tender tone you worded Solomon’s name to the hidden message behind your words. What did you mean by he and you? Something was screaming at him that your relationship went beyond business at a certain point.

His brows raised. “Alfred, eh?” He scoffed, turning back to the counter, puffing on his cig.

He suddenly remembered the war records, informations hitting him like thunderbolts. You were in the same section. Alfie was the Captain of a battery in the artillery where you were sent. You knew each other.

“I also made him talk about the little arrangement you didn’t tell me about.” You let out dismissively. You weren’t blaming him for not telling you he asked Solomons to send his men to create a riot when Mosley will do his speech, you simply voiced your surprise. You thought he trusted you and were deceived to discover that he, in fact, did not.

A minute that seemed to last centuries passed, and you glanced at him. You were silently smoking as he was deep in his thoughts, not even looking at you.

“Well, it seems I’m not aware, no.” His voice was deep and he coughed before drinking his whiskey, his icy eyes looking straight forward to him.

You squinted your eyes in confusion before realizing he didn’t listen to you, he was still on that Alfred thing.

“You don’t listen to me.” You got up, blankly looking at him.

Tommy feigned not to see you, but when you raised a hand to his that was leading his cup to his mouth, a shiver ran down his spine in anticipation.

Even if he wanted to ignore you or how you made him feel, his body betrayed him.

You tenderly grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm towards you. Your piercing eyes met with his cold ones, as you dangerously neared your face.

Y/N ended up connecting the tip of their nose before slowly teasing his lips with hers. He was looking into your soul hidden in your iris and you were doing the same, you were the same.

You might be using flirt along with charm to get what you wanted from men, but with Thomas, it wasn’t the same. He had the exact same hold on you that you had on him, and both could feel it when in an intimate moment.

Their intimacy wasn’t simply about sex, a hunger due to an innate desire or need, no. It began the minute they would shamelessly dive into the being of the other. When he was undressing your soul with the most usual look.

You ultimately sealed your pleading lips together, considering they stayed apart for too long. Their warm breaths intertwined as both of you forgot everything around you, this moment belonged to no other than you, this instant was yours.

You could pretend you weren’t emotionally involved as long as you wanted when alone. But you couldn’t lie when in front of him. You didn’t feel the need to. You could just be yourself, it was more than enough there, at the mercy of his fingers.

Out of breath you pulled away, you opened your eyes to Tommy’s one looking straight at you again, and that made you laugh. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your rare giggles.

Nothing needed to be said when your eyes were connected, as well as nothing needed explanation when your lips were sealed, you were him and he was you. The urge of feeling your inner worlds collide again, Y/N came kissing him some more, to Tommy’s greatest pleasure.

“I know about using Alfie's men.” You murmured without leaving his lips, and he nodded slightly.

“I knew you would find it one way or another.” He answered. One of his hands went to your back as he was fondling you with his thumb above the fabric, he pulled you closer to him as your fingers were passing over his lips in a tender way.

You hit his chest with your other hand, realizing he wittingly kept his deal with Alfie from you just so you would get a little mad. It was his way of teasing you about the fact you cared.

He was purring under your touch when the doors opened. Polly’s eyes directly dropped on Tommy and the librarian before quickly glancing around the pub, meeting with Arthur’s. They both marked a pause and looked back to the two bill & cooing birds...

It wasn’t Tommy’s type to be that open about his relationship with a woman, but Polly already knew what was in his mind. He was convincing himself it was solemnly business, as with the other women he works with, but she knew he was starting to fall in love without even noticing it.

You both got back to reality and pulled away when Pol walked to you, going back to your respective drinks as if nothing happened. She placed herself in between you two, forcing you to take a step aside.

Tommy coughed, looking into his drink as if there was the most interesting thing in there as Y/N grabbed her things, she then started to walk away. And without even looking back, she passed the Garrison’s door.

Polly was staring at Thomas, her words useless in this situation. He glanced towards her and quickly went back to drinking, he wasn’t going to have that conversation with her.

It was Arthur, coming back to the counter that brought up the previous display between his brother and the librarian, “See Polly, my brother got another singing bird.” He was smiling before encountering Tommy’s eyes telling him to shut up, making his smile fade.

“And what you think it is, Thomas? Business?” Her deep trembling voice made him close his eyes a long time as he sighed. “It is love, Arthur.” She glanced at the man behind the counter. “You’re brother’s in love.” She continued, leaning to Tom, dramatically making him know in what he trapped himself.

He opened back his eyes and firmly dropped his fist on the wooden board in a thud, coughing away her words.

The Peaky Blinders head drank from his drink before quickly glancing to the doors you passed minutes ago, lost in thoughts. And as he was sure to think with his head, Polly knew he was thinking with his heart.

(...)

The man was walking slowly, each of his steps was heavy as the whistling escaping from his lips echoed on the concrete walls.

Ada that was on the other side of the wooden door looked through the window, trying not to overthink this situation. Since her first day as a book counsellor under the management of Y/N's organisation, she was never given major tasks. Rather kept at the very back of everything illegal.

But these past few days, she noticed Y/N was taking her to the important reunions, and Y/N's right hand, Ana, had been ordered to introduce Ada to “the work” as Y/L/N called it.

She didn’t know why it was her that had to meet with Gina’s father as Y/N was the one knowing what she needed from him, but Thorne kept away any negative thoughts, focusing on what needed to be done.

The door opened and a tall man entered. He was wearing a creamy long jacket, beige pants. Under the jacket, Ada glimpsed a shirt topped by a Roman collar similar to the priests’. His arms were crossed in his back.

He was pretty imposing, with large shoulders. Even under the fabrics, his browny chest and body could be seen.

Her gaze went up to his face, encountering his deep hazel coloured eyes staring straight at her. He got little eyes, their corner dropping as if he was sad. But she knew this type of man didn’t feel that emotion. Even if his iris were warm coloured, his gaze was cold, almost as if he wasn’t alive anymore, his eyes didn’t shine, they were glassy.

All those informations made Ada nervously gulp, continuing to examine the man’s face.

He had thick straight brows and he wore his brown curly hair slick on the side, one curl falling down his forehead.

He didn’t close the door behind him and walked to her until he was inches away. “You’re not Y/N.” His deep hoarse voice worded. And his remark made her instantly roll her eyes at him.

“Just sat, already. Can I offer you a drink?” Of course, she wasn’t Y/N, if he knew her, he would know it wasn’t as simple as that to meet with her.

“I don’t drink.” He squinted his eyes.

“Well, I do.” She turned to the counter to pour herself some whiskey and gladly started to sip on it as going to sit down. On his side, the man was walking in the room, stopping himself from time to time to examine the objects and frames he was surrounded by. “Is this your house?” He was fidgeting with a woman’s body paperweight.

“Your daughter doesn’t seem to be delighted by the fact you’re here.” She let facing him head-on.

He turned to her as she was staring at his face fearlessly. He delicately dropped the paperweight and went sitting down in the armchair in front of the brown-haired woman that followed his every move with her gaze.

“How’s your son? Mrs--” He feigned to search for her last name, but Ada knew he wanted her to understand that whoever she might be, he could get to her and her family if he decided to.

Of course, it wasn’t Ada’s house, but everything was made to make him believe so. They put some of her personal photographs with her son along with other personal effects.

“Thorne. Ada Thorne. And my son’s alright.”

This way, he will think he has the advantage over her, and if he wants to try anything, this is this house that will be targeted. But in fact, this house was one of the many business properties Y/L/N owned in the neighbourhood.

“Oh my.” He chuckled, raising his brows. “She got political alliances.” He crossed his legs and leant backwards in the chair, his arms laying on each of the armrests.

“You’re interested in politics Mr Rice?”

The man gave a faint smile hearing she knew about him more than he knew about her.

“Everything’s politics, Mrs Thorne.” He raised his gaze to her. He wasn’t being pushy or aggressive, but the atmosphere around him was heavy. His presence made her uncomfortable, and if she wasn’t a Shelby, she’d be unable to face him and stand the stare.

She nodded to him, thinking he answered right.

“I’m no longer in business, Y/L/N knows that very well. I left my brother in charge, it is him you need to see.” He was choosing his words meticulously, and each sentence he spoke was filled with unsaid things.

Not only was he implying that Y/N might be incompetent cause she picked the wrong guy, but he underlined the fact it was a family business, meaning abducting his daughter, wasn’t the best idea.

For a second, she thought her boss may have committed an error by forcing this Mr Rice to come to England, but she was quick to understand he was trying to destabilize her.

“Did you come all the way from Chicago to tell me I need to address another man? Wouldn't it be more intelligent to tell that in a call? ” She raised a brow, and now she was the best match for this meeting.

The man remained silent as he was smiling again, understanding his strategy will not work with her.

“It’s not about a man, not your brother, not you. It’s about Gina, your daughter, using your own methods to manipulate her husband to take control of something bigger than her, something she couldn’t even manage to take care of if she succeeds at having it. But we both already know, in reality, it’s your brother using her.” She returned him his evil smile before tilting her head. Her words sounded like bombs in the man’s ears. Acknowledging the fact his brother might use Gina for his own needs made Mr Rice gritted his teeth as one of his hands clenched into a fist.

He had been trying to get into her head, manipulating her into believing their actions were useless and that nothing could be done about the plan his daughter and Michael had. But being a Shelby as well as a Thorne, Ada knew how to handle those types of people.

“Well, you saw right through me. I see now why Y/N chose you.” He raised both his hands in admittance of his defeat.

Even if the man in front of her seemed harmless, she didn’t want to stay alone with him any longer. He was peculiar, from the way he was standing to his aura, she knew Gina's father was a weasel. She could read in his eyes he was lurking for the moment she'd let down her guard to get to her.

“Now you will meet with her.” Ada decided it was the end of this interview, surprising herself into taking such a decision. Maybe Y/N wanted her to do something more?

She gasped when getting up, which helped her get her mind clear. She understood her role was to make him realize he wouldn’t escape until they have what they wanted from him.

She went to the table, writing an address, a day and an hour on a piece of tissue paper. She then walked to the bearded man and handed him the fabric.

“Now business can begin…” She paused, keeping him from taking the paper. He glanced at her, sighing. “And leave your shenanigans at the door for this meeting, bring your will to cooperate instead... She way worse than me.”

(...)

*Shelby Company Limited*

Tommy opened the door to his office, he intended to walk towards his desk when hearing a low voice. “Arthur asked whose side I’m on.”

He turned around to a curled up Polly in the chair at the corner of his dark office. She wasn’t facing him, her body was halfway turned, as well as her face, leading her to look at him with side-eyes.

He didn't need to ask her what she was talking about. Since the meeting where Michael offered to run the business family, taking Tommy's place, she was distant, as if thinking about her son's proposal.

Tom surmised tonight was the time she'll give her final answer.

It was raining, the wind violently slapped the windows as well as the raindrops, the outside storm perfectly reflecting the conflictual atmosphere settled between the two. The climate deprived the office of any light, but a shy desk lamp faintly illuminated the place.

He took off his black gloves, throwing them on the table separating them. He then sighed and went sitting on the chair, raising his gaze to her, waiting for her to continue to speak.

“There will be a war, and one of you will die.” Her deep trembling voice along with the lapping of the rain on the windows added to the dramatic atmosphere.

Tommy sighed, he knew she was right. He was, indeed, waiting for a war. “But which one I cannot tell.” Her black eyes were staring straight into Tommy’s blue one.

He let out a “Hum.” surmising she’ll not add anything else. He nodded to himself, “he’s gonna do it anyway.” he continued. It wasn’t a question, this would explain her presence in his office that late in the night.

“Yeah.” She responded.

“You should know, if Aberama takes his side I will kill him.” Tommy said upfront.

She looked down before raising her gaze to him again, “And what about me?” She wasn’t blinking, patiently waiting for the confirmation of Tom’s determination to stop her son.

Tom paused, he was aware she was trying to know his intention and he was debating within himself if he could afford to let her know.

“I’ll do what I have to do, Pol” He dropped his definite sentence, he didn’t move his stare or body a bit. He didn’t need to let her know how determined he was, it was already showing.

“Kill… And kill.” She sang with a low voice, slowly blinking. She seemed tired of this situation, as well as tired of it all.

“It’s the only way to make people listen” He nodded his head to the side as murmuring his words.

Since her near-death experience with the noose, she wasn’t the same Polly that he knew. She was only a mere shadow to the person she once was. But this time she seemed truly fed-up.

The thunder was rumbling outside when she got up with slow movements. The sound of her high heels nearing him mixed with the sound of the rain racing down the windows.

She grabbed an envelope as well as her drink. “Soon, you will have a stage to stand on. Millions of people will listen to you. And you will run the country like you run this family.” Her head was held high.

She was looking down on Tommy.

He knitted his brows, holding the stare even if he had to raise his head to meet her. “It appears to be what people want.” He nodded to himself, trying to convince him, or her of what he was saying.

“But not me.”

He blinked.

“Not anymore.”

He blinked again.

“My resignation.” She concluded while dropping the envelope on the table before him. She also put down the empty cup and looked at him some more before turning her back at him and walk toward the exit.

He stared at the empty space in front of him where the woman used to stand prior as he heard her steps receding. Tommy inhales deeply before sighing, dropping his head forward. Her words hit him as bullets would’ve. She was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind. Polly had always been more to him than what he ever showed, and the fact she let him down now did hurt him.

Tommy grabbed his gun from his shoulder holster under his suit jacket and looked at it while exhaling. He moved his hand, turning the gun on both sides, looking at it as looking at a let-out.

Nothing would stop him from founder now. He could embrace his demons and play how he wanted.

Following Chapter ❱

[lyranova]

Heyooooo Lyraaaa 😘!!! I was wondering if um hehe👉👈😅, if you could make a yamichar fic where they accidentally traveled in time and accidentally meet their future child (or children lmao) lol😂, it's okay if you don't wanna do it 🙂 no pressure 😘

Children of the Future:

Chapter 1: Hikari

Of course Lei! I’m sorry this took so long IRL has been busy 😅! But i hope you like this, also I just realized you wanted Yamichar to be the ones who time travel, and instead i made it the child who goes back in time oops. But i hope this is ok! Also, Hikari belongs to the lovely @eme-eleff (thank you for letting me borrow her for this Ilysm 🥰💕!)

Edit: This is Chapter 1 of my new series ‘Children of the Future’, instead of reposting it I decided to edit it and reblog it haha!

Word Count: 1,701

Warnings: None

———

Yami couldn’t stop grumbling, he had been summoned by Julius to come to his office, he claimed there was something important he needed to see. Yami had been confused at first, but he wasn’t really allowed to disobey a summons from the Wizard King. So he walked through the halls that he knew like the back of his hand, deep in thought, when he saw a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eyes. He turned and noticed it was the Prickly Princess herself, Charlotte Roselei. He watched her look up in surprise at him and her face turned a shade of pink.

“ Y-Yami? What are you doing here?” She asked as she came to a stop, she hadn’t seen him for a while, since everyone had been training in order to battle the Spade Kingdom. She watched him tilt his head and do a half-shrug.

“ The Wizard King summoned me, said he had something important to show me. You?” He asked as he also came to a stop.

“ Same here, I wonder if he summoned the other Captains as well.” Charlotte said curiously as she folded her arms, it wasn’t unusual for Julius to call them suddenly, but when it did it usually meant trouble for the Kingdom.

“ I didn’t see any of them, and I don’t sense their Qi, so I think it’s just us here.” He told her with a thoughtful scowl, Charlotte hadn’t seen any of them either, which made this meeting even more curious.

“ C’mon, let’s not keep him waiting.” Yami said suddenly as he began to walk away, she blushed even more as her mind raced ‘H-He wants to walk there together?! Won’t that give people the wrong impression?!’ Her mind screamed, but she shook her head and followed behind him. They could always say they met outside the door or something.

Charlotte watched as Yami knocked on the door, they heard Julius say something on the other side to signal to them that they could enter. Yami pushed the door open, allowing Charlotte to walk inside first, and closed it behind them.

“ Ah good you’re both already here.” Julius said with a warm happy smile, Charlotte and Yami walked up to the desk. It was still hard to believe that the Wizard King was now back to his original self, they had gotten so used to seeing him younger that they would sometimes forget this was him.

“ Why are we here Julius?” Yami asked as he crossed his arms, he wasn’t really in the mood for chit chat, and he assumed Charlotte wasn’t either since she had a small scowl on her face as well. They were both trying to train their squads so they could face the Spade Kingdom, and this was distracting them from doing that.

“ Well,” he said with a sheepish laugh, that only made the two Captains scowl further. “ I went down stairs where we keep the forbidden magic items, and I stumbled across this portal. I don’t think it’s ever been used, anyway, I went down there looking to see if there may be an item to help me change back to my proper age. Well, instead I found her,” Julius moved out of the way and behind him sat a young girl around 19 years old.

She had long dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a small scowl on her face. Charlotte looked her up and down, she was wearing a deep blue top with a pair of dark brown pants, wrist length gloves, and dark knee length boots. But what caught her attention was the cloak she was wearing, Charlotte’s eyes widened as she looked at the insignia, it was a Black Bulls robe, she looked over at Yami and saw he recognized it too. But if he was surprised he didn’t let it show.

“ Why did you give some random kid my squads robe Julius?” Yami asked as he suddenly grabbed a cigarette and put it into his mouth.

“ I’m not just some random kid! Also, if you’re going to smoke it’s best to do it outside or, even better, stop smoking. It’s bad for you.” The young girl remarked as she stood up from the chair she had been sitting in and walked over to stand next to Julius’s desk.

Charlotte and Yami blinked, this kid had quite the mouth on her. But he did as she asked and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and put it back in it’s case. The young girl smiled in triumph, that's when Yami frowned. That smile, it looked familiar, but where had he seen it before?

“ Anytime I ask you to smoke outside you always ignore me, but when a child asks you too you listen and do it without a second thought.” Charlotte commented with a small laugh and a shake of her head, Yami rolled his eyes a bit, of course he was going to listen to a kid. He wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but he could be a big softie when it came to kids. He looked over and noticed Charlotte had a small smile on her face, he paled slightly, that was the same smile the young girl wore just a moment ago.

“ Hey kid, what’s your name?” He asked, hoping beyond hope that his gut feeling was wrong, that her Qi wasn’t what he saw it to be. The young girl glanced over to Julius who nodded, she turned back to them, her head held high as she announced.

“ My name’s Hikari, Hikari Sukehiro.” Both Captains paled, Sukehiro? As in Yami Sukehiro?! Charlotte turned to look at him, he wasn’t able to hide the surprise on his face at this revelation.

She felt a small pang in her chest, as though someone had just plunged a dagger into it, he had a daughter? With another woman? She shook her head, they weren’t dating so what right did she have to be hurt and upset, at the most they were just colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. But it still hurt to think of him being with another woman, of him having a child with another woman.

“ This isn’t funny Julius.” Yami growled, he knew this wasn’t a joke, just from the way she stood he could tell she was his daughter, also from the way she had no problem telling him off about smoking. The only thing that confused him though, was why she had the same smile as Charlotte.

“ It isn’t a joke Yami, she came here from the future, at least according to her. I had Marx use his memory magic on her, everything she has told me is the truth and her memories prove it.” Julius said as he leaned back against his desk, Charlotte couldn’t help but glare at him slightly.

“ Why did you call me here then you majesty? Just so you could have a witness in case Yami tried to murder you?” She asked, a little more ice to her tone then she had intended. It didn’t go unnoticed. Julius blinked a bit before looking over at Hikari.

“ Um, I think you need to explain your parentage a little more, Hikari.” He stated with a nervous laugh, the young girl nodded.

“ Yes sir. It’s true, my father is Yami Sukehiro. But my mother,” she turned to look at the blonde haired woman. “ is Charlotte Roselei.”

Charlotte blinked at Hikari. Her? She was her mother?! No, no, no, that made no sense! How could she be this girl's mother? She and Yami weren’t even dating! There was no way Hikari was their daughter!

“ That makes sense,” Yami said suddenly, she whipped around to face him, her face brighter than the sun, and she gaped like a fish out of water.

“ H-How does this make sense?!” She suddenly shouted, she watched a small smirk tug at the corner of his lips.

“ Her Qi first off; it’s a mixture of mine and yours which is why I didn’t recognize it at first. Second, the way she carries herself is the same as you, her eyes are a similar shade although they’re a little lighter than yours, and her smile, heh, that smile; it’s exactly the same as yours.” He said the last part so softly, so warmly, it made Charlotte not only turn redder, but it made her heart melt. He...noticed how she smiled? Of course he did, he was very observant. But what she didn’t expect to see was how his smirk had changed into a warm loving smile, how his eyes had softened.

Charlotte had to be dreaming, she just had too!

“ So, umm...until we can get Hikari back to her own time, she’s going to have to stay with one of you or, if you want my opinion, both of you. Since she is your child and it’s probably what she’s used to, I’d suggest you all find somewhere to stay that’s close enough to each of your respective headquarters. I think it’ll be easier for Hikari to adjust that way.” Julius said with an innocent smile, both Captains couldn’t help but frown, was he trying to subtly get them to move in together? Yami suddenly sighed.

“ Fine, I guess we really don’t have much of a choice huh. Especially since that was an order.” Yami stated, causing Charlotte to gap at him even more, he wasn’t even going to try and convince the Wizard King that them moving in together was a very bad idea?! But as much as Charlotte wanted to argue, she could tell by the tone of the Wizards king's voice that it was, in fact, an order. She also couldn’t disagree, it would probably be better for the young girl if they all did live together. She suddenly chuckled humorlessly at the situation.

Finding out she had a daughter and now being ordered to move in with the man she was in love with who, by the way, was completely oblivious to her feelings for him? This was not how she was expecting this meeting to go!

——

Ah i’m sorry if this isn’t very good 😅! I couldn’t really think of how to end this but I hope some of you enjoyed this and I apologize if you didn’t! Also I hope you like it Lei 🥺💕! Thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐧.

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( potential spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) —  Reader is new to town, working at a bakery ran by a kind old lady. Getting used to the ropes of the city, a man in blue arrives unsettled, holding a bloody rag against his knuckles and shivering just slightly. (occurs after arvin approaches the three bullies.) 

warnings: blood, mentioned alcohol abuse, bullying. word count: 2,330 published: 9/17/20 ao3 link — part 2, 3

— — • — —

You didn’t ask for much in life. You didn’t want much. Your entire life you let the sea take you where it wanted to take you, and if it brought you to a flourishing island with the most beautiful sunsets and the softest sand, you let it. If it wanted to take you to the dangerous, icy hurricanes where waves clashed and thrown against each other and you drowned in the salty depth, you let it.

You don’t have a will, the town would mock you.

You were new to Ohio, originally coming from New York, and they liked to call you city girl. Your accent was more urban compared to the rural dialect around you. You stuck out like a sore thumb. The community grew together, knew everyone’s names, and when a random strange girl with only a plastic bag of clothes arrived at the nearest motel, it was all the rage.

Luckily, you managed to find a sweet baker lady to take you in. She had a plump figure, rosy cheeks, and graying auburn hair that spoke of pies and sunshine. Her name was Marilyn McCann, she was in her late 50s, and she had lost her two dear sons in the Vietnam war, her husband previously passing from health complications. Marilyn opened the baker, naming it McCann Boys in honor of them.

You were seated behind the counter on a stool, picking at a lemon and poppyseed muffin, placing chunks of the bread in your mouth and eating slowly. It was a quiet day, rain splattering against the window, most people wanted to bake indoors.

While you fidgeted with the book in your lap, idly reading it, you heard the bell ring. You glanced up, and instead of the man moving to the counter, he only took a seat by the window, a rag covering his knuckles as his hat hid his face. He refused to return your eye contact, which was used as a silent method of do you want me to come to you?

You were running the shop alone. You couldn’t ask Marilyn who this strange fellow was. You had to take the initiative.

Getting up from your seat, the stool groaned against the hardwood beneath you, and you made your way towards him. He was bouncing his jean-clad leg excessively, winding the rag around his tightened fist. There were dark stains on it, but you paid it no mind.

“Sir?”

The man twitched his head in your direction, his cap revealing only an inch more of his face before moving back down to the table. “Yeah?” His voice was low, a bit hoarse.

You leaned to the side a bit, crossing your arms, crooking a brow upwards. “You good?”

“Yeah, ah,” he spoke, moving his chin upwards to look at you, and he stopped. You did as well, a silent, complex tension thick between the two of you, before he continued, “Just uh… needed to sit down, s’all. Do I…” he cleared his throat after a voice crack, “do I need to buy somethin’?”

Shaking your head, you gave a quiet, slow, “No.”

Taking a better look at his hands, you noticed it was blood on the rag. So, he was getting that post-fight clarity. You moved to the back and grabbed some pure alcohol you and Marilyn liked to keep, pouring only a bit on a clean washing rag, before heading back to the mysterious man’s location. Taking his hands, he gave a quiet noise of surprise as you tore open his fingers from the old rag and placed it to the side.

“Lady, what are you— ow! Shit...”

Lightly sponging the rag against his knuckles, you then placed the new cloth in his hands, taking a seat in front of him.

The man in front of you seemed somewhat offended, clutching onto the rag and padding it over his knuckles, but also giving you a scowl. “The hell you do that for…? ‘Didn’t need that, I can take care of myself.”

“So, what’d the man do? Pissing contest taken too far?”

He removed the cloth from his hand and wrung his knuckles together, and you stared at the scabs. “Maybe you should keep your nose where it belongs, darlin’.”

You hummed, leaning over the table and resting your bare arms against the surface, looking out the stormy window. “Y’seem like a sweet girl,” the man spoke up, catching your attention, “but that kinda behavior here… askin’ too many questions, it can get ‘ya hurt.”

Eyeing him up and down, you tilted your head so it nearly rested on your shoulder. “Well… y’gonna hurt me, stranger?”

Brown eyes fogging over with clear distant memories, you watched his expression dampen, no longer seeming agitated but only conflicted. “No… no, I wouldn’t hurt ‘ya.” His voice was only a low grumble. “I was taught better than to hurt girls.”

Giving a hum as a response, you tapped your painted fingers against each other. “I’m not trying to be nosy,” you then confessed, “...just curious. Don’t hear much from this town regarding fist fights.”

“You’re the city girl?” With a wince, you nodded. “Ah.”

“That a bad thing, mister?” You asked, trying to analyze his expression. He seemed distant, staring off, before his eyes turned as round as saucers glancing at you.

“No, no, miss, I ain’t imply that. Lotta people know about you ‘round here, it’s rare for a cityfolk to come to this dot on the map,” he explained, “Just curious.”

Clearly that was an insinuation for you to indulge him on his question. Though, feeling smug, and honestly in your right, you told, “You tell me why you’re bleeding from your hands, I’ll tell you my harrowing tale of ending up in Ohio. How about that?”

Surprisingly, the stranger let out a quiet laugh. It was breathy, and for some odd reason you could tell he doesn’t do that often by the way it seemed foreign coming from him, the product from his lips being stopped with his mouth closing. “Fair. You’re good at this game, little lady.” He let his knuckles out into the open air before crossing his arms together, leaning back in the booth.

“My old man,” he started with a distant voice, grimacing at the latter, and you assumed there was a dark history there, “he taught me t’protect myself. To protect others. Now, he was no layabout, he was straight outta the war,” the stranger chuckled, “if anyone tried anythin’, he wouldn’t let ‘em. He taught me that with physical expression.” The jean jacket around his arms got tightened with his whitening grip. “Now, y’see, lotta folk in this town ain’t kind. They ain’t acceptin’, they don’t like new things. They don’t like concepts.”

You listened quietly, feeling your heart slow its pace within your chest, trying to silence itself to take in every word. “I got a sister. Step-sister. She’s sweet, but she ain’t like the others. They don’t like that.”

His jaw tightened as he looked out the window, his blue cap shading his eyes. “...Had t’put an end to it.”

An understanding finally settled in your head. You fiddled with the apron draped around your legs, chin tilted downwards as you took in the information. You looked back at him. “...That’s a good thing.”

“What?” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Protecting your sister. That’s a good thing.” You could tell he felt guilty only slightly, perhaps he was scared of himself, scared of what he did. “I never had a sibling growing up,” you told, “having someone there to protect me would’ve done me wonders.” The stranger moved his hand up to his mouth, rubbing the side of his index finger against his chin. You gave a weak smile. “People aren’t too kind here to me, so I don’t need to fantasize your sister’s reality. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be outcasted from your own town like that. Your sister must be a kind soul, being thrown to the wolves like sheep like that.” You shook your head. “It’s not right. I think you did what you had to do. Sometimes that’s the best you can do.”

He was staring at you, and you couldn’t help but to wonder if you said too much. If you were prying too much. You had never met this man before, he could’ve just killed someone for all you know for no rhyme or reason, he could be a sociopath, luring his next victim, but you trusted your gut on saying that this man was right in what he did.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he gave a quiet exhale through his nose, nodding his head before glancing at you, head tilted downwards. “Now, your story. Fair trade, little lady.”

With an amused smile, you shrugged. “Came from New York, had no ties. Father ditched when I was still learning my ABCs, mama abused alcohol, that’s what wound her up in the grave. Took that as my sign to go.” You recalled the dirty poor Manhattan streets you grew up on. “Manhattan… it’s a busy city. Too busy. No one knows ‘ya, but they assume they do.” You pointed at him to exaggerate, closing an eye, “If you’re in the wrong neighborhood, that’s what you are now. Wrong. I was a wrong, poor girl with no faith.”

“No faith?” The stranger asked.

“Faith didn’t keep me alive there. Only money.”

He nodded slowly. “Surprised to see someone here not lookin’ to God.”

You clasped your hands together and shrugged. “Well, when he brings me something nice, I’ll go to church.” Glimpsing up at him, you asked, “Do you have faith?”

“Only for my grandmama and sister. I ain’t got no interest listenin’ to a man for hours.”

“You seem like a family man, mister.” You smiled, leaning back. “Are they the only reason you’re here?”

A moment of hesitance resulted from him. “Yeah.”

You decided not to press further.

Taking in the quiet rain, you tapped your hands on the table beneath you three times and stood up, placing your hands on your hips. “Well, mister, do you drink coffee?”

He seemed so small in the booth, huddled up with his arms crossed, brown eyes that were no longer iced over with memories, but instead focused on you with a round childish charm to them. “Ah… yeah, I do.”

Smiling with a nod, you headed and started up the yellow coffee machine. You looked back at him, saw him staring out the window, and you finished up the mug of coffee and gave it to him, hot. Sitting in front of him with your muffin, you both indulged in your delicacies in a peaceful silence.

When his coffee was just about gone, he asked, “Mind if I smoke in ‘ere?” He wondered, and you gave him permission.

“Sure. The only thing I’m concerned about is the gross taste coffee and tobacco must have together,” Wrinkling your nose at the thought, the man laughed, amused as he placed a cigarette in his mouth and used a lighter.

He puffed in the smoke and then removed the cigarette from his mouth, pulling over an ashtray that rested on the table. Blowing through the thin slit between his lips, he murmured, “Arvin.”

“Hm?” You asked, wiping off your hands on your apron from crumbs.

“My name is Arvin Russell.”

Blinking at him, you smiled, testing out his name carefully. “Hi, Arvin. I’m Y/N L/N.”

Arvin seemed a little shy, his cap hiding most of his face before he moved his head up just slightly, catching your eye, pointing out, “‘Like that name. Suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

A little flustered, you pinched your bare lips together before giving out a breathy chuckle. He moved his cigarette to his lips, watching you closely, inhaling the smoke. “You’re sweet.”

Arvin smiled, the paper-wrapped cancer stick between his lips, he pulled it out with a quick huff and said, “You’re the sweet girl talkin’ to bloody strangers sulking in the corner of your shop and givin’ em free coffee, Y/N.” He was staring at the window when he said this, but his head turned towards you, relaxed against the seat behind him, tapping the ashes into the ashtray. “Y’deserve better than this place.”

Feeling overwhelmed with all the positive comments— you didn’t receive many— you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Well, Arvin, I think you deserve good things, too.”

Arvin gazed at you, a soft expression on his face before checking his watch. “Have to head home.” You both stood and you began to clean up. Arvin went up to the counter and gave a few dollars, and you stared at the money, gawking before giving a nervous smile and shaking your head.

“You don’t need to do that, Mr. Russell—”

“Arvin was doin’ just fine, sweet girl,” Arvin said with a smile. “Y’helped me out today. Thank you. Genuinely. I wanna pay back however I can.”

You took the money cautiously, feeling shy.

“Take that money for yourself. Buy yourself another pretty dress,” he said, eyeing the one you wore and tipping his hat. He was about to leave before he turned, hand flat against the glass, the other tucking his old rag into his coat pocket and gazing at you. “...We’ll be seein’ each other again, Y/N.”

Feeling overrun with flustered emotions, you smiled and said, “I would sure hope so, Arvin. I liked having you around.”

Arvin looked to the side, murmuring, “Likewise.”

You were left in the silence of the bakery, the rain turning into a light mist outside. Pressing your lips together, you changed your weight from foot to foot, turning to lean your back against the counter and giving a sigh.

Each encounter with him from then on would slowly grow into something more.

[pineapple-lover-boy]

As I have decided my last post was way to fun too write I’ve decided to write another head canon/fanfic type of whatever.

This one concerns Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley.

Definitely has a big wedding like a year after they both graduate (and I don’t mean by just family)

They were the first in the family to get married after like a decade so Fleur, Molly, and (surprisingly) Hermione all get together to make it amazing

Fleur handles design choices (while consulting her daughter and future son in law of course)

Molly handles the more technical stuff like who gets invited, what types of food to they get/make, and seating charts

Hermione? She’s their human version of self control

She helps Fleur with not going too all out and makes sure Molly doesn’t put the wrong people together

She’s a huge help, really

Anyways, the wedding goes off without a hitch

(Bill was compelled to object because damnit it’s his little girl but the look on Fleur’s face tells him he might as well leave home and never come back if he does)

Now onto home life

Victoire is like her mother: blunt, a bit arrogant, but caring to a fault and very loyal

Teddy, although being described as a very nice young man by many, was: a troublemaker at heart, rowdy, clumsy just like his mother, but also very respectful and holds genuine concern for others

An interesting pair, really

Because of his clumsy ness, Victoire often had to attend to his injuries and clean up his messes

It was worth it though as he always managed to get her something that worked perfectly with her Veela features

It wasn’t all household woman that cleans after her husband though

When Victoire’s temper flared about some idiot making comments about her or people underestimating her Teddy was always there to calm her down and hold her tight

And Victoire was there every time he looked at the picture of his parents on the mantle piece

They are still the same teenagers they where at school (seriously, they’re barely even 20) so make out sessions are a must

Which now the children come along because they have their own house and are again, horny teenagers except they’re allowed to do this now

First off, I head canon Metamorphmagus genes come from muggleborns squib ancestors and once they awaken in a wizard they automatically become a dominant gene (child is more likely to have it than to not)

I hc their first child to be Remi Harry Lupin

Light brown hair just like his fathers original hair color, his grandfather, and his mother’s original hair color but with dark blue eyes like his other grandmother

It’s clear as he grows up that he inherits Veela traits even though it was thought to be impossible to, just like his uncle

He is a calm child, very smart too

As he is the first baby in years he is thoroughly doted on but he is always taught to never let it go to his head

Loves hearing stories of all his grandparents and his adoptive grandfather

Doesn’t change his appearance all that much but does so when playing with his father or putting on shows for the family

He prefers to keep his hair a soft green

Not too bright and nice for the eyes

He absolutely loves his little sister, Brielle Nymphadora Lupin

Tonks is fuming up in heaven while both Remus and Harry are secretly laughing

Brielle is much like the ones who came before her

She also inherited Veela and Metamorphmagus traits

Whenever she gets annoyed with people looking at her, even as a baby, she’ll make herself look positively ugly

She has her grandmothers silvery hair with the Weasley freckles and chocolate brown eyes

Once she weaned off of milk, to everyone’s surprise, she always had a hankering her raw meat

After all when one grandfather was full wolf and the other only about half wolf you kind of develop your own traits

She loves scaring the living daylights out of her mother but turning her face into random things

She once tried to do something so scary that she vowed never to do something like that ever again after seeing her mother’s reaction

Contrary to popular belief, this couple only had these two children

They knew their sanity was at risk if they had another; even with a well mannered child like Remi it was just too much

Remi was sorted into Hufflepuff like his father as his values were placed with loyalty more than intelligence

Brielle had another surprise in store for the family: she was sorted into Ravenclaw!

To have a brother like Remi she always admired his ability to teach her even when the entire house was shaking with the large family (this family is so big yet so close that generations down there will be like over 100 members and it’ll still be tight knit)

Brielle also strives to be smarter herself

A lot of the time she was treated as if she was an idiot just because she liked having fun more than reading

She, of course, proved them wrong when she had a successful pranking career at Hogwarts while also being a prefect and a head girl

Remi only ever became a prefect

He lamented to Headmaster McGonagall on how he would much rather focus on his studies and his friends than parading around Hogwarts trying to find troublemakers and she, with an amused smile on her face, crossed off Remi’s name for head boy the next year

Teddy and Victoire absolutely adored their children in every way

Often times Teddy would find himself confronting other who looked at the both of them

If that didn’t work then Victoire would come along and sock em on the nose

Even though their family wasn’t as big as others expected, they were a very chaotically happy family

And they wouldn’t have it any other way :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Day 4: Pining / Attention

“If you were to look my way, I think my heart would just about explode.”

Day 4 of JustJadelentines2021!

[Day 1] / [Day 2] / [Day 3] / [You’re at Day 4!] / [Day 5] / [Day 6] / [Day 7]

JadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatmeJadepleaselookatme--Ah-HEM! Um... I mean... Leech mob family is a fun theory~

***Warning: Wish Upon a Star (Floyd’s Wish) & Floyd and Jade Birthday Suit Up! personal story spoilers!***

Imagine this...

Several wheelbarrows’ full of packages addressed to the twins arrived at Octavinelle every holiday. At first, Octa A was startled by the strange influxes of mail--but his concerns were often dismissed by his upperclassmen. Most notably, Jade would reassure him that the packages thanks to the Leeches’ “extensive connections” and “family ties”, whatever that meant.

The mob student tried not to linger on the meaning of those words too often, for whenever he did, his mind would wander into dark theories. Whichever corner of the deep, murky sea the twins originated from, Octa A didn’t want to be dragged there for asking too many questions.

So he closed his eyes and went about his work like the diligent employee that he was. The school year passed, and in turn, so did the holidays--and, as expected, the packages arrived without fail on each special occasion.

Then came Valentine’s Day.

“Wh-Whoah...!!”

Octa A’s jaw dropped at the sheer amount of mail unceremoniously littered across the floor of the Mostro Lounge. Boxes large and small were stacked as tall as him, wrapping paper of various patterns, glittery bows, and packing peanuts were scattered everywhere. One big mess.

Floyd say amongst the packages, giddily ripping boxes open, while Jade stood at the edge of the sea of mail, carefully inspecting the various packages.

“G-Good morning,” Octa A called out as he slowly waded through the mail, cautious about not stepping on anything. “What’s... What’s all of this? Th-This is a lot of mail--even more than usual.”

“Oya. Good morning to you as well, Kon-san,” Jade replied with a polite wave. “Bright and early for your shift, I see.”

“Ahh? It’s Konbu-chan!” Floyd cried, wearing a toothy grin. The eel excitedly waved to him, hailing the mob student over. “C’mere!”

Oh, thank Neptune, Octa A thought. He had caught the brothers in good moods today. The last thing he needed was a grumpy Floyd or a passive aggressive Jade leering over his shoulder.

With a little less trepidation than usual, he tip-toed over. Octa A just narrowly missed dirtying a discarded bunch of blue tissue paper before he reached his upperclassman.

“Hold your hand out,” Floyd commanded, his smile stretching.

“O-Okay...?” Octa A obeyed, unsure of what to expect.

“Here you goooo!!”

Floyd dropped something brown, warm, and sticky into the mob student’s palms. Octa A jumped at the strange sensation, his thoughts racing to the conclusion that it was something unsanitary--but when a sweet smell hit his nose and Octa A immediately knew it was chocolate.

“I don’t want it, so you can have it!”

“E-Ehhh?! Y-You’re just going to hand me a bunch of melted chocolate?!”

“Yup! Oh--you can have those too,” Floyd added, jabbing a thumb at a box by Octa A’s feet. “And this, and that... pretty much all of it, ‘cept the one from mom.”

“W-Whaaat?! Th-There’s no way that I can eat all of that...!!”

Jade’s laughter cut in, interrupting the conversation. “My, my, Kon-san. There is no need to fret. You need not consume all these sweets. Feel free to dispose of them as you wish, if that is what you think is best.”

“Th-Throwing them out is just as bad as giving them away!!” Octa A cast a sympathetic look at all the packages. Some thrown open, their guts spilling out, and others left totally untouched by their intended recipients.

“Oh? Whatever do you mean. Please, do enlighten us.”

“Tch. You gonna lecture us, Konbu-chan? This oughta be good.”

“What about... What about the feelings of the people that sent them? If they’re all Valentine’s Day gifts... s-some of them must be confession or friendship chocolates, people pining for you. Y-You can’t just throw away their feelings like that...!!”

The twins exchanged glances with one another, then collectively stared at Octa A. Floyd started first, his slow and steady chortle becoming increasingly raspy and unhinged. Jade followed suit, his gentlemanly chuckle twisting into a composed, yet cruel laugh.

“Wh-What’s so funny?”

“I simply find your naivety fascinating, Kon-san,” Jade replied with a grin. It seemed grossly out of place, given how he had laughed mere moments ago at the notion of discarding emotions.

“We don’t need to accept everything that’s thrown our way, you know~” Floyd cackled, flicking a wrapped truffle across the room. It hit the wall and ricocheted under a table. “Especially when we know all this junk’s from kiss-ups that wanna make it big.”

“H-Huh?” Octa A’s eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean...?”

“Floyd.” Jade’s voice took on a stricter tone than usual with his twin. “You’ve gone and said too much.”

“Ehhh? It’s fiiine,” Floyd insisted with a pout. “It’s not like any of ‘em will know! And they always do the same thing every year. It’s sooo boring!”

“I understand your sentiments--it does become rather troublesome for us to dispose of these chocolates every year. However, that is a time and place for everything, and this is not one of those times.” Jade’s eyes briefly cut to Octa A before returning to his brother.

Floyd rolled his eyes, shrugged, and returned to delving into boxes.

“Um... S-So what did Floyd-senpai mean by ‘kiss-ups’?” Octa A dared to ask--his curiosity getting the better of him.

Jade heaved a sigh. “... If you really must know, Floyd and I are quite ‘popular’ back home in the Coral Sea. This is due, in part, to our father’s rather successful business enterprise. There are a number of his partners and associates that wish for what the Leech family has.”

He gestured to Floyd, who was still wrestling around with the packages. “Thus, they often attempt to curry favor by sending gifts. The hope is to soften us up to them--but many of them, I suspect, are aiming for a far greater long term prize: our hands in marriage, and therefore near unlimited access to the resources and power that our father wields.”

Octa A paled. Already, he could feel his stomach sinking, and his body temperature turning chilly--as though he had just plunged into an icy sea. He was on the cusp of a dark secret--he felt it in his gut.

“O-Oh... I see... Ahahah... Y-Your family politics sound complicated, Jade-senpai, Floyd-senpai.”

“Indeed, they are.” Jade spoke quietly, his eyes digging into Octa A’s soul. Though the eel still sported a curve to his lips, his gaze lacked warmth. The light seemed to have drained from his irises, leaving them dull and frigid.

Sizing the mob student up--trying to ascertain whether or not Octa A needed to be blackmailed into submission--into silence.

“I trust that you would not dig deeper. It would be rather unfortunate if we lost one of our treasured employees.”

Octa A gulped, nodding vigorously to confirm an unspoken promise to Jade. Then the first year scrambled to make small talk, to change the topic, if only to avoid his vice-dorm leader’s dreadful stare.

“I-It does sound annoying to have people always trying to get your attention. I-I’d just want to live a quiet, peaceful life not getting noticed by too many folks... That way, I can just do what I want.”

“That sounds sooo nice!” Floyd chimed in from the floor. “It sucks when other people try to tell you what to do or how to be, or tryin’ to get you to act how they want! Like, if I’m gonna do something, I’m gonna do it cuz I wanna, not cuz someone else wanted me to.”

“I-I guess...?”

“Ehehe. Konbu-chan gets us! So you’ll take all the chocolate off our hands, right? Riiiight?”

“E-Eh?! I-I mean, I can if it really troubles you so much, senpai--”

“Great! I knew we could count on you~ Here, here, take it all!!” Floyd leapt to his feet and began piling box after box in Octa A’s arms, despite the melted chocolate pooling in the mob student’s palms. Chocolate smeared on the bottom-most box, and Octa A yelped.

“W-Wait...!! P-Please slow down...!!”

“Fufufu. Thank you for your assistance,” came Jade’s voice. Octa A couldn’t see him, since a bunch of boxes now obscured his line of sight, but he was sure that Jade was smirking.

He caught a flash of movement in his periphery. Jade emerged on his left, his olive and gold eyes narrowed--and his mouth, lined with sharp teeth, folded into a perfect smile.

“Did you know, Kon-san? Many people would kill to be in the position that you are in... being able to so casually engage with us on a daily basis,” Jade chuckled, granting the mob student a pat on the back. “Octavinelle is very fortunate to have our full attention, don’t you agree?”

“Y-Yessir...”

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Strangers (Pt.6)

-------------------------

As usual, Virgil hadnt slept very well, he'd been plagued throughout the night by memories that werent his, and this only worsened when he walked into the living room to see six silver necklaces on the table, each shaped as a different animal.

"JANUS- PATTON-" Virgil stood as far from the table as he could manage, backing against the wall.

"Virgil? What's wrong?-" Patton was the first to speak, rushing to Virgil's side.

"What are- what are those doing here-" Virgil whispered, pointing a shakey hand toward the necklaces.

"Relax Virgil- we're just researching them, you're still wearing the spider necklace are you not?" Janus said as he entered the room.

"I cant take it off. . ." Virgil said softly.

"We'll find a way, eventually, for now we need to research," Patton said, before walking over to the table, followed by Janus. Virgil waited a few seconds before sitting down as well.

"So what do you know so far?" Virgil said, scanning the necklaces.

Aside from the purple-eyed spider around his neck, and the red-eyed wolf Romulus possessed, he counted six other colors on the table in front of him.

A blue-eyed frog, an indigo-eyed unicorn, a yellow-eyed snake, a green-eyed kraken, a pink-eyed dear, and a black-eyed fox.

"Other than the fact that the color schemes bare a frightening resemblance to the color-coded friend group we maintain, not much," said Janus.

"So you brought more potentially cursed necklaces into the house without any idea of their relation to us." Virgil said monotonously.

"Well- we cant be sure all of them are cursed- I mean Roman's the only one acting different-" said Patton.

"That thing isnt Roman. I refuse to associate the two." Virgil growled. Patton flinched slightly and Virgil felt a guilt well up in his chest.

"Well- they all involve specific animals and colors obviously, and Romulus keeps calling me. . . Princess. . . And the girl in my dreams was slated to be royalty last I checked, so. . ." Virgil said, trying not to vomit as the word princess swam in his head in that condescending tone of Romulus'.

"The could be part of a royal court or guard! Virgil you genius!" Patton said excitedly. Virgil blushed slightly and moved to cover his face.

"I think this would be better resolved at the library," said Janus.

After an hour or two of deliberation and subsequent preparation for leaving the house, the trio found themselves huddled up in separate corners of the library.

Which, reflecting back, wasnt the best decision.

"Princess! I didnt see you home last night! I thought you promised you'd be back for dinner. . ." Virgil froze as he heard Romulus speak, he could move or think or breath or talk. All he could do was stare ahead of him and feel the tears running down his face as Romulus pulled him closer, as he felt Romulus' breath on his neck.

"You're breaking my heart again princess, I thought you loved me," Romulus whispered, he didnt sound upset.

"Let's get home, you obviously havent taken your meds," and Romulus was pulling him away from the library. It took several steps and almost reaching the door for Virgil to find his voice.

"How dare you touch me. How dare you try to act as though you missed anything more than a pretty little toy you can mock and stare at to make yourself feel better." That got the libraries attention, and, to Virgil's satisfaction, a frightened expression on Romulus' face. But something in his gut told him he hadnt been the only one speaking those words.

Soon enough Janus and Patton had emerged from their corners of the library, Patton almost toppling from the amount of books he was carrying, and Janus yet again brandishing his cane as though it were a great sword.

"I believe I told you that you werent to approach Virgil again. Was I not clear enough the first time." Janus snarled as he pulled Romulus back by the shirt.

"How many times must I tell you you have no right to keep me from my husband." Romulus snarled back.

"I am no spouse of yours." Virgil said, before storming out of the library.

He wasnt really sure where he was going, only that he was angry and tired of hiding.

And lucky for him, his affinity for shiny objects had managed to lead him to a different kind of bookshop, and a book with eight different colored gems built into the front.

"How much for this?" Virgil said, pointing to the book.

The girl behind the counter turned to look at him, white hair falling over her face.

"$250 and a free visit from the excorcist," she said, eyes slightly wide despite the vague expression of apathy.

Virgil stared for a moment before finally handing over the money. He took the book out of its case, bid the cashier goodbye, and walked away.

Now his only problem was finding a decent place to read.

"Virgil! What are you doing out here!" Virgil heard a call from none other than Remus.

"Reading-" Virgil said, he wasnt necessarily lying in that case.

"Jan! Pat! I found him!" Remus called inside before motioning for Virgil to follow. So Virgil did, and sat between Logan and Patton on the couch.

"What'd you find?" Said Janus, motioning to the book Virgil had placed on the table.

"Call Em and Remy, I think I just found our solution," Virgil said.

"Pat- you have the necklaces right?" He continued. Patton noddes and placed each on the table.

Soon enough they were joined by Emile and Remy, and they could begin to dissect the book itself.

"The Order of Terra, an elite squad originally compromised of six members, later joined by the Prince and Princess of Eirthanas, and disbanded when the Prince betrayed them all for power," Virgil started, tracing over the photo accompanying the description, though he couldnt quite make out the details.

"The leader of the order was Lord Larion Terraval, who's last name gifted the order its official title, Larion took up the unicorn necklace, which gave control of the stars, and the ability to communicate across any barrier," Virgil continued, the rest of the group gave a quick glance in Logan's direction. Which was expected, given the striking resemblance between the two, from deep blue eyes to the slight quirk of their eyebrows, it was almost as if they were twins.

"The second to join was the sister of the Prince, Duchess Remona Octavia, who took up the octopus necklace, granting control of the oceans and all their creatures," the girl shown in this picture had the same red-eyed manic expression as Remus, and even a streak of white through her hair, the only thing missing seemed to be the mustache.

"The third was a local mage, Remington Insolia, who took up the fox necklace, which granted control over sleep and disease," this man was identical to Remy in everything except the gray and white robes.

"The fourth was Jamillan Serpentes, who took up the snake necklace, and gained the abilities of hypnosis," this description was attached to a photo of a gaunt man, who looked much to stuffy to be Janus, but bared an all to familiar resemblance.

"The fifth was Emalei Primrose, a faun who took up the necklace of the deer, and gained the ability to cause mania, as well as psychic capabilities," the faun in the photo had the same pink and white heterochromia as Emile, the same broad smile, and the same curly brown and pink hair, albeit much longer.

"The sixth was Pamela Adbentes, who took up the frog necklace, and a variety of healing abilities," this was connected to a picture of a woman who looked as though she'd quite like to reach through the paper and pinch Virgil's cheek while asking if he wanted homemade cookies, which told him all he needed to know about her similarities to Patton.

Virgil felt his breath hitch as his eyes trailed over the next two entries.

"The Prince, Romulus, was meant to be the last to join, and had attempted to take up the spider necklace, only to be denied, and gifted the wolf necklace, as well as a vast knowledge of potions, poisons, and flattery," Virgil's hand went to his throat, he felt tears in his eyes as they ran over the all to familiar, all be it much less muscular, and much less huggable frame of the real Romulus.

"The final member of the Order of Terra was the most unwilling, Princess Viviana, the true bearer of the spider necklace, enforcer of nightmares, controller of the afterlife, she disappeared mere weeks before the Order of Terra was disbanded," and there she was. The lilac eyes, the long black hair. Nearly identical to the form Virgil had long since left behind.

Virgil had gotten the book to find answers, but now, now all he had was questions.

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

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@lovelivingmydreams

@baka-monarch

@that-peach-anon

@thefivecalls

@willowaudreykeyes

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