#this is so stupid i wanted t keep it simple but i dunno if it ended up very simple just not color blended xD

[1071png]

Cruella from 101 dalmations gets a new coat for Xemnas 💅✨

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

One Week Awake

Title: One Week Awake

Word Count: 11,000+ (Should I even count at his point?)

Warnings: Blood? The briefest of violence??? I'm stretching here, guys.

Summary: One week awake. Three weeks scattered. That's how you had lived ever since you were cursed. You only had one week at a time to enjoy living and you tried your best to do just that but you were always missing something. You just wanted something - someone to keep... Too bad no one lives forever except you. || Kol Mikaelson x Cursed fem!reader || Masterlist Lives Here!

Life's a losing game when you don't play

Don't hold your cards too close is what they say

Now, love is just another leap of faith

But I jump right in

I want something more than

More than restless mornings

Getting by's so boring

So, take your time, enjoy it

Every fleeting moment...

~ Fever Dream by mxmtoon

Suddenly materializing twenty feet in the air was always the worst part of your week. When consciousness came, your eyes snapped open and you shrieked as you plummeted to the ground. Your back collided with the dirt jarringly, knocking the wind out of you and you groaned. That was going to leave a bruise.

"Cetanwakuwa, I hope you know that wherever you are, I am still cursing your ridiculously long name." You rolled your eyes and got up, brushing twigs and branches off you as you did so. "I mean, you couldn't just curse me, no sir! You had to mess up your stupid spell and routinely drop me from TWENTY FEET IN THE AIR!!!"

When you looked up, you were met with the gaping faces of four teenage boys. They stared at you, frozen in place. You raised a brow.

"What? Haven't you ever seen a gal drop outta' the sky before?" You snapped. Three of the boys screamed before turning tail and scampering away, tripping over themselves to put distance between them and that weirdness that just fell from the heavens. The one who remained was tall and blond, with blue eyes and an athletic build. He studied you carefully, sizing you up.

"Hey," He greeted with a nod.

"Sup," You said in return.

"So, who the hell are you and what was that flash of blue light?" He demanded, rather harshly.

You smirked. "Well, you can call me Willow and that was Nunya."

"Nunya?" He questioned.

"Nunya' business," You deadpanned. The blond rolled his eyes.

"What's with the hair?" He asked, gesturing to the shocking cobalt blue hair that tumbled over your shoulders.

"Side effect of Nunya'." You replied, sending him a tight smile.

"And I'm guessing Willow isn't your real name, is it?"

"Nope!" You grinned, "What should I call you?"

"I'm Matt," He said. "And that actually is my name, in case you were wondering."

"I wouldn't really care if it wasn't, but okay," You said. "So, Matt, would you be so kind as to tell me where the hell I am?"

He sent you a questioning look. "Uh… You're in Mystic Falls, Virginia."

"Small town?" He nodded and your face twisted into a scowl. "Gross."

"Hey! I live here!" He protested.

"My condolences."

Matt huffed. "What do you want, lady?"

"I dunno." You shrugged. "Something to do, maybe? Is there, like, a party going on somewhere near here?"

"Uh… What party? T-there's no party." He was clearly lying. You had no clue why he would lie about something as simple as a party but you weren't one to judge.

You narrowed your eyes. "You're lying. There totally is. Where?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "There's no party that you should go to," He rephrased.

"But you're going to it?" You guessed.

"N-no." That's when you noticed Matt's hand flit to his pocket.

You chuckled. "Ooh! What has it got in its nasty little pocketses, precious?"

He quickly removed his hands. "Nothing."

"Gun? Knife? The One Ring of Sauron?" You guessed.

He chuckled. "Three guesses and all are wrong. Looks like I win!"

You huffed, putting your hands on your hips. "If you don't tell me about this shindig you're so worried about, then I'll just have to go ask some clueless towns person about it."

"Look, you just shouldn't go. Trust me."

"Gimme a reason and I'll think about it."

Matt sighed. "The Mikaelsons are dangerous."

"Mikaelsons, eh?" You arched a brow, stowing the name away to ask about later. "What's dangerous in a small town? Are they the mob-starting type?"

"More like the bury-you-in-their-backyard type," Matt muttered, not intending for you to hear.

You nodded. "Dope. I should absolutely go to that party then. What time is it at?"

Matt shook his head and pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "Here, if you're so interested, then take it."

You plucked the invitation from his hand and looked it over. "Please join the Mikaelson Family at seven o'clock for dancing, cocktails and celebration," You read aloud. "Ooh, a rich people party! Even better."

"I don't think they'll appreciate you crashing," Matt mumbled.

"Oh, honey, that's the entire point!" You smirked, waving. "Toodles!"

You took five steps before Matt cleared his throat. "Uh… Civilization is that way." He pointed, sending you a look.

You stopped. "I knew that."

"Right…"

You just snorted, waving him off before starting in the direction he had pointed. Then you stopped and turned back. "Oh, and Matty?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone about me."

"Why not?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

You smiled softly. "Because I don't exist." Then you left.

Now, you stood in front of the Mikaelson mansion in a dress you had picked up - which is a nice way of saying stolen - from one of the shops in town. The gown was long and elegant, and the translucent layers over the skirt gave a misty quality to the soft grey-blue base. The same translucent material made up a long, flowing cape that secured itself around your throat with a silver string. Aside from the silver glitter covering the sleeveless bodice and dispersing like a gentle snowfall over the skirts, the dress reminded you of something an important British lady might have worn to one of your father's parties all those years ago. Except now, you were the mysterious stranger wearing the fine dress and every one of those important British ladies were nothing but dusty bones.

As you stood in front of the grand double doors of this family's mansion, wearing no jewelry upon your wrists nor shoes upon your feet, you couldn't help but wonder what those important ladies might say if they could see you now.

Even after all these years, you could still hear them laughing behind your back. The worst part was, they weren't exactly wrong. You were living your own stupid Cinderella story, and it was great except for the fact that it sucked. See, instead of a fairy godmother, you got an apprenticing Native American shaman, and instead of a clock striking midnight, you got one week each month, and instead of a happy ending, you got the rest of frickin' eternity. You weren't exactly sure what had happened to your Prince Charming - maybe that part got lost in translation - but after nearly three hundred years, you figured he must be running late.

That didn't stop you from wishing though. You wanted so much more than a life lived in weeks and weeks of restless mornings.

The soles of your bare feet, hidden by the folds of your skirts, met the chilled marble of the manor's steps as you made your way up to the giant double doors. As if sensing your presence, the doors swung open, revealing a room of ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finest. It had been quite a long time since you had been to a true ball, but that didn't matter. You still remembered how to dance. Flipping the length of your cobalt-blue hair over one shoulder, you stepped confidently into the mansion. Beautiful pillars lined the large oval-shaped room, but the centerpiece was clearly the grand staircase that curved up to the second floor.

Making your way into the foyer, you made a beeline for the only thing in the room that mattered. The refreshments table.

Upon reaching the object of your desire, you found yourself with a conundrum. There were two fancy platters covered in small chocolates. Each looked identical, but you knew at parties such as this that one plate would consist of chocolates with nasty overpriced rich-people filling and the other would consist of simple truffles. There were no labels, so you did the only thing you could.

"Hey, man." You didn't bother looking up before giving the person next to you a light smack on the chest to get his attention. "Little help?"

***

"This is going to be awful," Kol announced, putting on a fake smile. Throngs of people he didn't know, didn't like, or just didn't care about were beginning to file in twenty minutes early. He could hear them downstairs, chattering away - the noise was already giving him a headache. "Tell them I died bravely, Bekah."

"Ah yes," His sister smirked. "Kol son of Mikael, original vampire, ordained priest of the Catholic Church, and almost King of Spain, drowned himself in the punch bowl two minutes into his mother's party. May he rest in boredom." She dramatically narrated with a sorrowful shake of her head. Next to her, Klaus snorted and Elijah rolled his eyes. Kol grimaced and opened his mouth to say something snappy but never got the chance.

"And a good thing it would be too. The world would be well rid of his depravity," Finn said, walking in beside Esther.

"Well, it's a shame we can't all be as boring as you, Finn," Kol sneered. The eldest brother growled and stepped closer only to be stopped by Esther's hand.

"That's enough," She directed. Finn backed off like the obedient guard dog he was and Kol just sent him a smirk. Esther turned to her youngest son. "You would do well to remember yourself tonight, Kol."

"Would I?" He challenged dryly.

"Indeed, if you ever wish to leave this house again, that is," Esther replied. She turned, facing the rest of her children. "You know the rules, I expect you to follow them. If any of you step so much as a toe out of line, I will be most unhappy."

The rest of Esther's children nodded respectfully. They knew what was best for them, but not Kol - he never knew when to stop.

"Ah, the rules!" He exclaimed, drawing Esther's icy hawk-like gaze back to where he leaned casually against one of Nik's no doubt overpriced side tables. His voice dripped with sarcasm and his dark eyes watched their mother with a challenge. "Forgive me, but… what might those be again?"

Esther's expression hardened, her mouth drawing into a thin line as her eyes flashed with that pious gleam he loathed so much. It was that same look she'd worn ever since she came back from the dead - it was cold, withdrawn, and calculating and he hated it. Their mother used to look upon her children with loving warmth, but that was no longer the case because things were different now and she was just pretending. Now all Kol saw in her eyes was disdain and he hated it. "Your meaning, my son?" She asked primly.

"Oh, you know, mother." He spat the word like snake venom from his lips. "You already impose so many things upon us, I simply have a hard time keeping track."

Esther smiled tightly, choosing to ignore his implicit jab. "Very well, I shall remind you. This is to be a pleasant evening for all invited, that means there will be no bloodshed tonight from any of you. You are to control your bloodlust and remember that any and all locals are strictly off limits. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mother dearest." Kol smirked. Her rules were clear and Kol had no intention of breaking them… At least, not directly.

He swiftly turned and left the room, moving to the balcony opposite the top of the stairs where he could observe the foyer as it filled with people while remaining invisible to the strangers down below. He leaned against the railing, wearing an expression somewhat akin to that of a hungry cat as it plays with a dying mouse. Socializing with self-important townspeople sounded rather daunting to him at the moment, so in order to stave off the boredom, he turned his people-watching into a game. With each new person who came through the door, Kol tried to pick out the visitors from the locals. Disappointingly, none of the guests looked particularly edible and after fifteen minutes of his little game, he noticed the mayor come strolling in. Better to get the niceties over with as soon as possible.

Kol descended the stairs at a human pace and continued on to introduce himself to the mayor, just as Esther had instructed him to do earlier that day. Though, that wasn't to say that he paid the mayor any attention as he did so. He just wanted to get all this posturing over with.

"Damon Salvatore." Someone was sticking their hand in his face. That was annoying. Kol had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes - it took effort. "Have we met?"

He shifted his gaze to stare pointedly at the man's hand for a moment before flicking his eyes up to his face. "I've met a lot of people," Kol said honestly. "And you don't particularly stand out."

Damon whatever-his-name-was frowned at that and maybe he was about to say something in return, but Kol was gone before he could. Why? Because he simply could not care any less. Restraining a groan, the boy made his way over to the refreshments table. Maybe Rebekah was right, he wasn't even five minutes into this party and already drowning himself in the punch bowl seemed like a better option. What he needed was a stiff drink, but of course, champagne was the only thing Esther allowed. Maybe that could be his next game - counting how many glasses of champagne it would take to get him drunk enough to deal with all these people.

"Hey, you." A hand smacked his chest to get his attention and Kol decided that there was not enough champagne in the world to make this bearable. He cast a longing glance back at the punch bowl before turning to face whoever wanted his attention. "Little help?"

On his left, studying a platter of chocolates, stood a girl… and she had blue hair.

***

"Yes?"

"I have a dilemma," You announced. You didn't bother casting a glance at the person beside you because, to be honest, you didn't much care about their identity - you only needed their minimal expertise seeing as they had been standing at that table since you'd walked in.

"And what dilemma might that be, darling?" The other guest - probably a man judging off the voice and definitely English - hummed, sounding amused.

"A dangerous dilemma, of the harrowing and high-steaks variety," You said, playing along.

"Those are the best kind." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Indeed," You agreed, giggling. You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to remain serious. "The dilemma is thus: Seeing as this party is catered to the pompous upper-class of this tiny, insignificant town, it's safe to bet that one of these trays of chocolates consists of simple, pure, delicious truffles while the other platter offers chocolates that may appear identical but are filled only with sorrow and deceit. So, good sir, which plate is which?" Only when you finished your overly dramatic explanation did you look up.

The stranger was most certainly tall - you guessed about six foot one - with dark hair and eyes that gleamed with mischief. His lips twisted up in a smirk that suggested he knew something everyone else didn't but felt no inclination to share it. The way he carried himself left no doubt in terms of his confidence, but the way he studied the two plates intently gave him an air of playfulness that was refreshing considering the overly stuffy setting. The boy was extremely handsome and you felt no shame in admiring that seeing as he looked about your age. (Physically, at least, but you doubted he could be three hundred.) In other words, you knew who you would be spending the rest of your evening with. He looked like trouble, and trouble would have been your middle name had that been acceptable for a woman of your era.

"Your skills of perception are impeccable, darling," He praised after finishing his assessment of the dessert choices. "However, I fear I am no wiser in this respect than you are. I suppose the only feasible solution is for each of us to sample a plate, that way only one of us suffers. What say you?" The boy grinned, easily keeping up with your overly proper speech. It made you smile; you had always enjoyed the beauty of banter and it was nice to find someone who could both understand and reciprocate. People just didn't talk that way anymore and while that was a good thing in some respects, it had saddened you as years went by to watch the artistry of language slowly die out.

"I concur," You said.

"Very well, ladies first." He grinned. "Left or right?"

"Hmmm…" You pretended to think about it despite knowing that your chances were as good as a guess. "Always choose the right… so I think I'll go left!" You picked a chocolate from your chosen plate and watched him do the same.

He counted. "On three? One… Two… Three!"

You popped the candy in your mouth and were delighted to find it absent of any filling as the delicious treat melted on your tongue.

"I got the holy-food!" You declared. One glance at the expression on his face told you everything you needed to know and had you doubled over with laughter.

"I got the sorrow and deceit," The boy sighed, shuddering. "What was that? Was that peach?" He shook his head. "That's disgusting," He said, pointing to the plate on the right.

"Better luck next time," You said encouragingly. You patted his arm.

"Eh, I'll live… probably." He shrugged and turned his attention back to you. The way his eyes raked up and down your figure in a way that was both deliberate and eager made your cheeks heat against your will. He looked at you like he was trying to decide something, but you couldn't be sure what that might be. After a moment, he held his hand out for you to take, sending you a charming smile. "My name is Kol, Kol Mikaelson. What's yours?"

For whatever reason, you almost let slip your real name but caught yourself at the last second. You didn't want him to know that, especially since you didn't yet know him. "You may call me Willow."

His eyes narrowed and, for just a fraction of a second, his eyes flicked to your heart, almost as if he could hear your heart stutter as the lie left your lips. "That wouldn't happen to be your surname, would it?" He asked.

You shook your head. "No surname. Just Willow is fine, thank you." Kol's eyes watched yours for a moment before he nodded. "I suppose I should be flattered at receiving the honor of speaking with one of tonight's hosts."

Kol tilted his head. "Honor, you say? Didn't I just hear you call this party pompous?"

"Yes, you did," You said. "Because it is."

The boy laughed. "Well, I can't disagree with you there, darling."

"What? Is someone not into all this posturing?" You teased, elbowing him playfully. Kol just scowled.

"Oh, absolutely not. I despise politics in every form, all this cloak-and-dagger nonsense is just so-" He sighed and shook his head. "I say, if you disagree with someone, you take it outside and settle it like men."

You could tell he was pretty sick of whatever politics or business his family was into and was clearly being forced to attend this event. But that much had been obvious from his self-assigned post at the refreshments table. You of course were no stranger to politics, your father had been one of many governors in the colonies, all of whom were downright brutal when it came to fighting for any scrap of parliament's attention. You completely understood where Kol was coming from.

"I don't know about cloak-and-dagger, just yet. This seems more like a flaunting of wealth to me."

Kol raised a brow at you, seemingly impressed. "Well, yes actually… That's precisely what this is."

You nodded, smirking. "Thanks, I'm fluent in arrogant windbag along with nearly one hundred dialects of showboating and although my understanding of boot licking is perfect, my pronunciation is awful."

The boy beside you threw his head back, laughing hard. His laugh was bold and pleasant to the ear, full of lively animation. Kol made laughter seem like a gift. Though he startled several nearby guests, he seemed completely unbothered by their stares. "It is an absolute nightmare, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. Small town politicking is painfully pointless," You chuckled.

"Precisely my thoughts. I honestly couldn't tell you why my family's so invested." Kol shook his head, grinning. "Though I suppose I must ask, if you're so keen eyed, why are you here?"

"I thought that was obvious." You shot him a look and pointed to the chocolate. "Free food."

"Oh, be honest!" He scoffed. "Did your date drag you here? Speaking of, where is your date? Don't tell me that a lady of your caliber is unaccompanied, because I won't believe you."

You shrugged. "Guess I'll just keep my mouth shut then."

Kol rolled his eyes and huffed dramatically, shaking his head as if disappointed. "Darling, I know I'm irresistibly handsome, but you can't just up and leave your date for me."

"Well, someone sure thinks he's special," You scoffed.

You rolled your eyes to hide the blush blooming across your face. "I'm sure my imaginary date would hate to hear that."

"Oh, I'm not special, darling; not at all. I am, however, unique, extraordinary, exceptional, uncanny, phenomenal, marvellous - are you taking this down? " He smirked.

"In your dreams, maybe."

"I wouldn't mind that." Something flashed in Kol's eyes then and it was bright, wild, and mischievous, full of something you couldn't put a name to as he grinned.

"Is he on the high school football team or is he a theater kid? Does he get jealous easily? Is that why you decided to come?"

"Kol," You warned, glaring. He held his hands up in self-defense. "I don't have a date," You insisted.

The boy feigned a look of concern. "Oh, dear. No date? Well this simply will not do." He shook his head woefully, but you could see the smirk spreading across his face and you knew he was plotting something behind those droopy, innocent-looking eyes.

"I don't mind flying solo."

"Now what kind of gentleman would I be to stand for that?" Kol demanded, feigning offense.

"You're a gentleman?" You teased. "I wasn't aware…"

"That hurts." Kol frowned. You just shrugged. "Well, I guess today's your lucky day, darling. It seems I too find myself in need of a date."

You raised a brow. "Aren't you hosting this buffoonery?"

The boy snickered at your choice of words. "My mother is technically the one responsible, but yes - by association anyway," He replied.

"A host without a date, that's just downright improper." You shook your head shamefully.

"In my defence, I didn't want to come," He pointed out.

"What about now?" You asked coyly.

Kol's eyes darkened and he took a step closer to you. "Now, I would very much like to take this opportunity to dance with you."

"No one's dancing," You pointed out, letting your confusion show in your voice,

"Oh, well that's easy to fix." The boy tossed you a wink. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd of guests. You were left standing there, quite confused until you heard the tapping of glass.

There was a man standing on the stairs and you watched Kol climb up to stand beside him. Rebekah was there too so you assumed that was the whole family; four boys, one girl. "If everyone could gather please..." As the man started to speak, a different woman descended the stairs. She watched the crowd with an intense gaze - it was similar to Kol's but less playful and more threatening. She must have been their mother. "Thank you. You know, whenever our mother brings us together like this, it's tradition to commence the evening with a dance. So, if you could all please join us in the ballroom."

You crossed your arms and shook your head. Kol reappeared in front of you a second later.

"Cheater."

"I wasn't aware there were any rules." He grinned, offering you his hand. "Now, about that dance?"

You felt your lips twitch up in a smirk. "Try to keep up," You taunted as you reached for his hand. The moment your skin touched his, your curse ignited, jolting through you like arcing electricity. You could feel the latent magic crawling across your skin, drawn to him as if he were a magnet. For whatever reason, your curse liked him and you weren't sure if you should worry or figure out why.

If Kol noticed anything out of the ordinary, he didn't show it. He just continued to smile as he pulled you in the direction of the ballroom.

This dance was not your first, not remotely. Over the course of three hundred years, you had attended dozens of balls, hundreds of less formal dances, and had probably danced with a thousand men. But not a single one of those dances could possibly compare to this one. Over the last few decades, people had forgotten how to dance, but this boy was different. Kol Mikaelson knew how to dance - you might even go so far as to call him an expert.

First, Kol took your hand and brushed your knuckles against his lips in a kiss that was so feather-light you would hardly have felt it if not for the magic that arched free from you at his touch. People didn't do that anymore, but Kol did and it made you blush.

Then you were moving. Kol wrapped his arm around your waist, gently squeezing your side as he held you close to him - closer than anyone else was dancing. You placed one hand at the base of his neck as your free hand found his. Kol's eyes never left yours, not even for a second; he just watched you with a bright smile and when a blush started to spread over your features, he dropped a flirtatious wink. That only had your cheeks warming more so you chose to focus on anything else. You could feel each of his fingers delicately pressing into your waist and you focused on that feeling. Nothing about it felt forced - it just felt right.

Your bodies moved on instinct and in unison as if the two of you had been dancing together for years rather than minutes. Your bare feet flitted across the cool stone floor in absolute silence, you could have been dancing on air. Kol was the same - almost gliding through the steps. The way he moved was so graceful, it was almost as if he had been doing this as long as you… maybe even longer, but that was impossible… Wasn't it? He led perfectly and you followed with absolute precision - you were easily the most graceful couple in the room and you noticed a young blonde girl eyeing you and Kol with envy. But you couldn't help it, it felt as though you had been made to dance with him.

When it came time to change partners, Kol spun you in his arms but he didn't let go. Instead, he pulled you back in closer and skimmed his lips across your cheek. His breath was warm yet it made you shiver. The charge of magic on your skin trilled in response, reaching for him, and as if he could feel it, Kol pulled you impossibly closer. His body was flush with yours and whatever your curse was reacting to seemed to settle, satisfied with the contact. A strange calm washed over you then, you felt yourself relax and rested your head against his chest, just letting him hold you. He sighed, seeming content to do so.

"Darling?" His voice was soft but it caught your attention and you hummed to let him know you were listening. "This may sound strange, but would you mind telling me why you're not wearing any shoes?"

You opened your mouth to reply but Kol leaned down, his lips brushed over the shell of your ear as he whispered. "Don't bother lying to me. I'll know if you do."

"H-how did you know?" You stammered, tensing up. He chuckled and shook his head.

"Relax, darling. I'm not going to raise the alarm, I'm just curious," He said. You nodded and relaxed. "This floor is marble, heeled shoes would click while flats or boots would tap; your footsteps are much too quiet," He explained.

"You can hear that?" You wondered, not sure whether to be frightened or amazed.

"I can hear a lot of things." He shrugged. His voice was warm enough but it held a tone that you knew should be taken as a warning. "Your heartbeat, for example; I suggest you not lie to me."

You sighed. This was your Cinderella story and midnight had come. "I don't have any shoes to wear," You told him honestly. "Truth be told, I'm not even supposed to be here." You hadn't intended to admit that but something about Kol just urged you to speak freely. That boy was trouble if you'd ever seen it.

Your confession seemed to grab Kol's attention like a red flag. He pulled away from you slightly to look at your face and it felt as though your curse was screaming for him to come back. His surprise was evident on his face but there was something else hiding in his expression, you weren't sure what it was or what it meant. "What do you mean you're not supposed to be here? As I understand it, everyone in town received an invitation."

"Then I'm sure everyone in town did," You stated.

Kohl's brows furrowed. "But you're…"

"I'm not a local," You admitted, feeling guilty though you weren't sure why. "I'm just passing through."

Kol tugged you back in again and his grip on your waist tightened, the pressure of his fingertips felt almost greedy. Like there was something he wanted to keep to himself. "You're crashing?"

"That I am."

"I think I like you even more now, love," He said huskily. The way his tongue rolled over the word 'love' sent your heartbeat into fifth gear. You'd never felt anything akin to the butterflies so many people talk about but his words set off a fluttering feeling you weren't sure you'd ever shake. "Do I get to know how long I can keep you?" He asked

"A week." Your voice sounded so tiny and one week had never sounded so short.

"I'll bet I can convince you to stay longer," Kol drawled softly. The arm around your waist shifted just slightly lower and he ever so slowly brushed his hand over your side before suddenly clutching the curve of your hip. His touch felt like sparks spreading all over your body, filling you with a warmth you had never experienced in your three hundred years of life. You gasped and looked up to see him smirking at you and you knew it was stupid to think you felt something for someone you'd just met, but you couldn't deny that feeling. It felt like magic. He spun you out and pulled you back. "Why rush this?" He asked, a hit of laughter hiding in his voice. "Take your time. Enjoy it."

Your heart longed to do exactly that, but your mind knew it would only hurt you in the end. You didn't want to have to look at him so you closed your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Kol," You whispered. "It's not up to me. I wish it was, but it's not." You shook your head, this had to stop. You were only doing more damage to yourself. "I'm sorry. I-I-I need to go!"

So, you broke free from his arms and ran.

***

Kol found her amongst flowers.

He couldn't fathom a logical reason as to why he'd followed the girl. After all, she was of little interest to him beyond a rather convenient self-identifying late-night snack. Now, he wasn't above admitting that he found the girl rather amusing - at the very least more amusing than small-town politicians - and she was certainly pretty, especially in that dress which outlined everything she had just perfectly. (A trait he wasn't above admiring.) Besides, Kol had caught his mother watching that girl and her cobalt blue hair with an expression of utmost disdain and he'd simply had to dance with her if only to spit on his mother's judgemental attitude. She was also refreshingly intelligent and a spectacular dancer. However, none of those positive traits were what drew him to her.

He knew it had to be the magic. The entire situation confused him because she was simply mortal - not a witch because she didn't smell nor act like one - she shouldn't have magic. Yet there it was all the same. It crackled across her skin, calling to him like the wisps of a dandelion dancing on a warm summer's breeze. It thrummed in her blood, begging him to taste her. To touch her was intoxicating, the way her magic wrapped around him felt like being surrounded by gently swirling winds, and part of him wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go. The other, darker half of him, however, wished to taste that magic in her blood, the thought of his teeth tearing into her soft skin made his fangs ache as he watched her quietly.

She sat on a simple yet intricate bench, one of many scattered throughout the mansion's sprawling grounds. Her position, while rather endearing, was less than lady-like with her head resting on her arms which lay folded over the back of the bench while her feet she kept tucked up beneath her. The soft silver moonlight dripped over her flawless skin and the tempestuous wind tossed her strange cobalt hair about wildly, giving her the appearance of some lost ethereal specter. It pleased him to note that she wasn't the loud, obnoxious sort that cries for attention. The tears that welled in her H/C eyes and traced down her cheeks were silent and sincere, her shoulders shaking slightly as if she were trying to keep her emotions in.

He approached the girl casually but quietly, not saying anything but letting his footsteps crunch against the gravel so as to give her plenty of notice of his presence. She faced away from the mansion and the noise of the party, instead of keeping her gaze focused on the treeline at the edge of the garden. The wind blew the scent of her magic-tainted blood towards him and he had to resist the urge to rush over there and sink his teeth into her pretty little neck. He sat beside her, mimicking her posture so she wouldn't feel uncomfortable, and sent her a soft smile.

"What are you looking at?" He asked gently.

"There, between the trees." She pointed. "Do you see them?" Kol followed her eyes beyond the edge of the woods where rolling fog drifted between the trees. He watched for a moment confused as to what they were searching for when his eyes caught a glimpse of something as it disappeared behind a tree. He caught sight of it again moments later, a faint glowing wisp of light the same color as the hair of the girl beside him. Another one caught his eye a few meters away, followed by more wisps appearing and vanishing at random.

"Ah, Will 'O Wisps." He nodded, smiling. "Always a captivating sight."

"My family has a legend about them," She said quietly.

"I love a good story," He encouraged, turning his gaze to watch her. The girl's eyes caught his for a moment and the blush that spread across her cheeks made his fangs ache, but he knew he had to wait. At least until the party was over.

"I'll warn you now, it doesn't have a happy ending," She sighed.

"None of the masterful ones do," He pointed out. "That's what makes them so captivating." Willow - he didn't believe that was her real name - took a deep breath and nodded slightly.

"Once upon a time," She began, " there lived a girl who was as stunning as she was stupid. Her name was Y/N, and she was the daughter of a governor, raised in wealth and plenty in a time when revolution was only a dream in the minds of a few troublemakers and anyone important was proud to serve their king.

"Y/N was ignorant, raised on the barbaric belief that she and settlers like her were superior to the native peoples of this land. She had no regard or respect for their traditions or customs and foolishly believed that they observed her father's authority. One day Y/N went for a walk through the woods behind her home, eventually, she found herself rather lost. As it turned out, Y/N had unwittingly trespassed on the sacred lands of a neighboring Native American Tribe. When she was caught, Y/N demanded that the tribe's people return her to her father, and they did… for a price. The tribe was sick of settlers violating the pacts and treaties that had been made, and Y/N's crime was severe so they made her an example.

"Before handing her over to her father, the village shaman placed a terrible curse on Y/N. He shredded her spirit and scattered it to the wind only to be reunited but once each month on the new moon. Then he bound his curse to the land to keep her from drifting all across the world, and to the sun to make it eternal." The girl's face twisted into a bitter frown and she turned to face him.

"That's how she exists now," She said, her voice breaking ever so slightly. "Unable to live. Unable to die. Wandering aimlessly for ever and ever. They say that those wisps you see are the shredded remains of Y/N's soul, just trying to find something - anything - to hold onto… and never succeeding."

"Well that does sound rather miserable," He said. He reached over and skimmed his fingers over the back of her hand, enjoying the electric sensation that came with touching her soft skin before he tangled their fingers together. "But it doesn't explain why a beautiful creature such as yourself sits out here, letting these tears spoil her night." It was more of a statement but left her with a question and a soft invitation to answer.

Willow pursed her lips and glanced at their intertwined hands. She tried to pull away but he held on and shifted a little closer. “It’s a lot of things I guess,” She said with a laugh that sounded more like a sigh. “I just feel so trapped. I want my life to have meaning, I want to see the world, but I can't and I never will and you have no idea how crushing it is to live with no hope of things ever getting better. I could cry for hours and you would never understand.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” He smiled and tilted his head at the girl, tugging her closer to him so he could shrug off his jacket and place it around her shoulders, keeping one arm wrapped around her. She offered him a slight smile as thanks and he acknowledged it by giving her hand a squeeze. The two of them were more alike than he'd thought - more alike than she would ever know.

“I would,” She said quietly. Then, as if her youth were merely a fragile facade, Kol’s perception of her changed. There was something surprising in Willow’s E/C eyes when they locked with his own, it was a sad sort of patience that told him that the tears slipping down her face were not the first of their kind. That was about when he realized that he might have found something truly amazing. He wanted to keep it. He wanted to keep her.

“And why is that?” He wondered, searching her eyes for an answer to the riddle that was her magic.

“Because you’re a rich boy living in a small town in a beautiful mansion at an overly lavish party flirting with a girl you’ll forget about in a week and your biggest problem is that you’re bored.”

Her tone wasn’t harsh or bitter, instead, her smile was patient and watery as she wiped at her eyes with a soft laugh. Kol had thought she was like so many other girls, stupid and trusting, the kind that throws themselves at any guy who gives them five seconds of his attention. But she wasn’t any of those things, she knew exactly what sort of game he was playing and had merely decided to play along.

“That’s a rather bold claim.”

“Is it?” She countered.

“You hardly know me, darling,” He pointed out.

“I don’t need to,” She said, shaking her head as she began to pull away. Kol frowned.

“I’m sorry, did I give you the impression that I was trying to chat you up?” He asked. She stood and he stood with her, watching as she passed his jacket back. He couldn't keep the disappointment from his face, he wasn't ready for this to be over with but just like everything else he wanted, she was leaving too soon. The sensation of her magic dulled as she moved away from him and he instantly missed the contact. He was tempted to throw his arms around her and force her to stay but decided against that and clung to her hand instead.

“Not at first, but yes,” She answered, tucking a strand of her strange blue hair behind her ear.

Kol sighed. Of course she had to catch on just when he started to mean it. “It’s a bad habit, please forgive me. Do you think we could start again?”

The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Not even if I believed you. I’m really sorry, Kol. I would love to get to know you because you seem like a lot of fun - maybe too much fun, but that’s why I need to go. I can live with knowing that you won’t miss me, anything else is harder and I don’t need that.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. That wasn't enough for him. “If you’re leaving, at least take this.” Kol let go of her hand and stepped forward, wrapping one arm around her waist and tangling his fingers in her hair. The girl’s magic went off like a crack of thunder between them as he captured her lips greedily. Her lips tasted like a seaside wind - cold and weary. A quiet whimper escaped her though she didn’t kiss him back. But that was alright with him because her heartbeat was wild in his ears and the salty tears that found their way to his tongue told Kol that she wanted him too. “Just so you don’t forget me,” He whispered.

She stepped away as soon as he let go, wiping away more tears. “Goodbye, Kol,” She choked out.

“Farewell, darling.” He watched her walk briskly away and smiled at the hesitation in her steps. The girl stopped a few yards away. She didn’t turn around, almost as if she didn’t trust herself not to run back to him if she did. Her voice was so soft but they both knew he would hear the words she spoke.

“I won't forget you.”

Then she was gone, seeming to disappear in the mists.

The rest of Kol's evening was something of a blur. Rebekah asked for his assistance in helping her murder her date - she chickened out. Kol was bored. Klaus somehow managed to sneak off. Kol tried to follow his example only for Finn to drag him back quite literally by the scruff of his neck. Boredom pervaded. The party continued. Someone got their neck snapped - he wasn’t sure who. A middle-aged woman passed out on the stairs - Elijah cuffed him on the back of the head for finding that funny. Kol was still bored - suicide was looking tempting. Klaus came back looking like a kicked puppy. Esther made a toast. There was some funky-ass champagne passed around - Finn made Kol drink it. Just when the youngest Mikaelson brother thought he could take no more of this torture, Elijah finally indirectly told everyone to go home. Kol didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful to his brother than at that moment.

Despite his intentions, the evening had carried on without so much as a broken champagne flute and that was something Kol simply could not stand. Esther had taken so much from him - from all of them - and offered no apology nor recompense for her actions. Yet she just expected her children's wholehearted forgiveness simply because she was back from the dead. She expected them to observe her authority - as if she had any authority over them after one thousand years - and sought to control them with her rules. Finn, Elijah, Niklaus, and Rebekah may have been able to forget her betrayal and accept her return as head of their family, but not Kol.

Because Kol had loved Esther more when she was dead.

That was the truth as much as it pained him to admit it. And maybe that made him a monster. But then again, maybe it was just one more log to add to the fire that burned him alive from the inside out. The fire that he'd never been able to control. The fire that had burned away his connection to magic. The fire that could only be doused with blood. The fire that Esther had started when she'd turned her children into vampires.

Esther had murdered him. She didn't deserve his respect nor his forgiveness. He couldn't hate her when she was dead. But she was back now, and Kol bloody hated her.

So to Hell with her rules. Chaos was more fun anyway.

As guests were taking their sweet time leaving the property, Kol conveniently found himself a moment alone with his sister’s date. He was this tall blond kid who absolutely looked like a ‘Matt’. Kol had waited long enough, he was itching to kill something - to break Esther’s rules sooner rather than later. His intention was to satisfy his need for chaos by crushing every bone in that kid’s hand to powder. Unfortunately however, he never got the chance. The raven-haired Salvatore appeared out of nowhere to push him off a balcony before snapping his neck.

That was pretty much the end of his night.

When he woke up, he was met with an aching neck and the cold fury of his mother's gaze. She sat in a chair in front of him, back ramrod straight and hands folded in her lap.

"Good evening, my son," She greeted as he sat up. Her tone was downright frigid. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just spectacular," He mocked, grinning impishly. In reality he was starving, he needed blood, right that very second preferably. If he hadn't known any better, he would have attacked Esther but seeing as she was a witch, she was bound to give him a headache that would last a century.

Although the concern of magic brought a very different idea to his attention. The girl who called herself Willow. Just the thought of her - her magic, her humor, her scent, her intelligence, the way she smiled, the way she danced, the taste of her lips when he'd kissed her - it was almost enough to overpower what little control he had. Kol needed her. He needed to taste her blood. He needed to feel her magic whipping around him again. The intensity with which he craved that girl was entirely new to him and perhaps he would have been curious or at the very least surprised, had he not been so maddeningly hungry.

"No doubt better than young mister Donavan, I would assume. That boy is in the hospital with three broken bones in his hand because of your actions." Esther's voice brought him back to the conversation at hand. It was probably a good thing for once considering his tenuous grip on control. The memory of his fingers tangled in that girl's cobalt hair was very distracting…

"I am speaking to you, Kol. What do you have to say for yourself?" Esther demanded. Kol blinked, willing himself to refocus.

"I confess, Bekah made me do it!" Kol declared with foux remorse.

"So I've heard," Esther said with pursed lips. "However, your sister claims that she changed her mind and called you off. I find myself inclined to believe her over you."

"Ah, yes, that is true." He chuckled to himself. "Poor Bex, some bloke gives her his jacket and she thinks it's forever…" He shook his head woefully. Finally, Esther's temper betrayed her cool exterior and she huffed indignantly.

"My rules were simple, Kol. No violence - that was all I asked - for you to control your more savage inclinations for one night!"

"You mean those same savage inclinations you so graciously bestowed upon us?" Kol snapped, springing to his feet.

"I speak of those savage inclinations you do not so much as attempt to curb. Possess you no restraint? " The witch seethed. Kol stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

"Restraint?" He muttered under his breath. "Restraint?"

Kol threw his head back and laughed though there was no humor in it.

"Exactly who do you think you're talking to? I was performing magic before I could walk, frustrating Ayana at every turn, testing any and all limits for the sheer fun of it - not that you paid enough attention to notice. Yet you sit here and speak to me of restraint... I have none! I never did! These savage inclinations, this bloodlust, is as much a part of me as the magic you stole!" He spat. Were it anyone else, his anger would have provided him a shield, but this was Esther. This was his mother and he couldn't stop the tears from falling - whether they were of rage or grief he couldn't tell. One thousand years and it still hurt like Hell.

"I can't control it. I have tried, mother, but you cannot fathom what it is like! It hurts so much. I can't resist it; I never could and you should have known that. You speak as though I wanted this. I didn't! I never shared your affinity for dark magic; I wanted to use my power to heal people - not hurt them." His voice cracked and shattered as he glared at Esther with all the hate and pain he'd been forced to carry for one thousand years. "You did this to me."

Yet Esther watched him only with contempt. There was nothing motherly in his mother's eyes - no mercy, no understanding, no love. In her gaze lived the truth he'd already known - the truth he hadn't wanted to face. It was the proof for which he'd been unwittingly seeking with all his mischief. It was clear to Kol then, when he looked into that woman's eyes and couldn't see his mother, that he'd been right all along.

Esther didn't love him anymore.

She didn't love any of them.

And Kol thought he'd felt pain before… Losing his magic was nothing compared to the realization that he'd become something entirely unlovable.

"Your excuses hold no merit, child. Finn, Elijah, and even Niklaus have no such struggles controlling themselves," Esther stated with disdain. Kol couldn't stop the surge of rage that tore through him then, it felt like white-hot flames.

"I AM NOT MY BROTHERS!" He cried out. The pain was tearing him to pieces and he wished he could just turn it all off, but that little trick had stopped working a long time ago. He was in so much pain… but Esther didn't care.

A sharp slicing agony shot through his skull, accompanied by an ear-piercing shriek that he realized seconds later was coming from him. Kol crumpled to the floor, clamping his hands over his ears in an effort to dull the pain. The tears streaming down his face were hot with the blood of multiple aneurysms and he begged Esther to stop. She didn't.

"Do not raise your voice with me, Kol. I am your mother and you will show me some respect or else this will be but a taste of the suffering I will inflict upon you." Seconds felt like hours before Esther finally removed her spell and when the agony ceased Kol could do nothing but lay there and gasp for breath. "We will continue this conversation when you obtain a better understanding of your place."

Then Esther was gone.

Kol fled from that place as soon as he was stable on his feet. He simply couldn't stand to stay in that house any longer with a woman who looked and sounded like his mother but held only hatred for him in her heart. His mother was well and truly dead. Running through the town, he had no idea what he was looking for until he caught her scent and the craving slammed into him with all the force of a ten-ton truck. Willow had said that she would be in town for a week, but he couldn't wait that long. He could almost taste her lips and the memory of it was driving him insane. There was no debate in his mind, he needed to have her.

Kol found her amongst flowers.

She looked like a spirit again. Her skin was translucent under the moonlight and her cobalt hair splayed around her head as she lay on her back observing the stars. That pretty dress of hers had been abandoned in favor of an oversized hoodie the same shade as her hair and black jeans that had seen better days; her feet remained bare. She almost looked prettier like that - softer certainly and Kol wanted to hold her. Between the trees surrounding them, ghostly wisps of blue light made themselves known to his eyes.

He heard her sigh upon entering the small clearing in the woods where she laid, almost as if she could sense him. "If I wanted to see you again, I would have given you my number."

"You have a cell phone yet you don't own shoes?" He questioned continuing to approach her. He could feel Willow's magic pulling him in akin to the force of a riptide.

"It should be clear to you by now that we have very different priorities," She said sagely. She didn't move from her spot on the ground.

"My priorities seem to have shifted since I saw you last," Kol said. He couldn't keep his eyes off her throat and her heartbeat pounded deliciously in his ears. His whole body felt tense with anticipation and his fangs ached, it was hard to keep himself from iimagining what it would feel like to sink his teeth into her tender flesh.

The girl finally stood, turning to him with her hands on her hips. "How so?" She asked.

"Plenty of ways." He shrugged. "The primary one being the insatiable need to figuratively spit in my mother's face which has taken up forefront. Care to help me with that?" He tilted his head and smiled. He'd never been strong enough to fight it.

Willow raised a brow. "I thought I made my stance on politics and drama very clear but I'll reiterate if I must. That stance is: Hell no."

Kol chuckled softly, feeling a psychotic grin spread across his face. He stopped fighting the growing bloodlust and let the demonic features of his mother's curse show.

"That wasn't a request, darling."

Had he been in a more stable state of mind, he would have seen the soft smile cross Willow's face and heard the words she mumbled upon seeing his true nature.

"How interesting."

But he didn't hear her. He was too focused on his hunger as he rushed forward and buried his dagger-like teeth in her neck. He tangled his fingers in her hair, tugging to keep her throat exposed. He held her still with the arm he kept securely around her waist, she fought but he was much too strong for that to matter. The girl's magic swirled around him in a gale of wind and electricity, combined with the taste of her blood on his tongue and the relief from the burning in his throat, the sensation was euphoric. Her magic doubled in force, screaming for him to stop, but he didn't. He couldn't.

Not until the girl was dead.

He dropped her lifeless corpse on the ground amongst the flowers. If he tried hard enough, he could almost pretend she was laying as he'd found her, an ethereal figure in the moonlight. A twinge of guilt pricked at something inside him. It wasn't fair, but not much in the world was. It wasn't personal, her death was one of the thousands of other meaningless deaths at his hand, she was just another victim of his bad habits and extraordinary lack of control. Perhaps what he regretted was what might have been. Now he would never no and he could only blame himself for that.

He turned to leave her there, lying unnaturally still in the grass as he had too many others when a sound stopped him in his tracks. It started off soft but grew to fill the area around him. It was a laugh, a bright bubbling laugh full of joy and innocence. Kol spun back around only to find the scene before him completely unchanged.

Then he saw a spark - a cobalt wisp - and it started in Willow's heart.

A soft cobalt glow shimmered and sparked to life in her heart, shining through her skin and clothes. The glow spread outward through her veins until her whole body burned a vibrant blue. Kol blinked against the blaze as tendrils - wisps - of light began to stretch outwards from her body. The light flared with sudden intensity and Willow's body fractured into a million cobalt sparks, shooting out like a firework in all directions. All was still for a moment, then moving with an unseen force, the sparks drew themselves towards him. They swirled and danced around his body, tracing his limbs like leaves in a whirlwind. Another peel of laughter rang out across the clearing before the sparks drew together and disappeared.

Kol let out a low whistle. "Well, that was new."

***

You stood where this fiasco had begun - on the Mikaelson family's doorstep - at 11 o'clock in the morning. Only this time there was no fancy ball to attend and you were about to unleash a brand of fury like which Hell hath no. You pounded your fist against the enormous door and waited patiently. A moment later, the door swung open and a woman you could only assume was a maid greeted you with a friendly smile.

"Hello, what can I help you with today?" She chirped brightly.

"I need a minute with whoever's in charge of this joint, so either take me to them or bring them out here," You said. You didn't care if you sounded harsh or demanding. The woman blinked.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but I don't think-"

You cut her off with a sickly sweet smile. "That wasn't a request."

The maid seemed to think that over for a moment. "Just one moment, please." She shut the door and again you waited. A few minutes later the door opened again and a tall, regal blonde woman stood there - it was the same woman you had seen on the stairs the night before - Kol's mother. You spoke before she could say anything.

"You're the mom, right?" You demanded.

The woman nodded. "I am Esther," She said simply.

"I'll be honest with you, I don't particularly care. I'm here to see your son," You told her, your voice sour.

"To which son might you be referring?" She asked, sending you a look that declared you an idiot without her having to say the word. "I have four."

"Oh, you know… Dark hair? Delusional? Thinks he's God's gift to women?" You listed the traits off on your fingers, raising your voice just slightly knowing he could hear you.

Esther raised a brow. "Kol?"

"Indeed."

The woman frowned but seemed not the least bit surprised. "For what reason must you see him?" She questioned with a sigh.

"Retribution," You replied, leaning into the vowels.

This seemed to surprise her. "For what act?" Esther demanded.

"He killed me." You smiled sardonically. "For that, I'd like to punch him in his perfect teeth."

Esther nodded. "I find this acceptable." She turned her head to look over her shoulder. "Kol! Come here, please! There's a young woman here to see you!"

From somewhere deep in the enormous house, you heard a low groan, followed by a loud wolf whistle, and then by a male voice shouting: "Take it like a man, Kol!" Looking over Esther's shoulder, you caught a glimpse of movement at the top of the grand staircase. Then, in an instant, Kol was standing in front of you.

"I'll leave you to your business," His mother said. She did just that.

"Kol," You greeted coolly.

The boy only smirked. "Hello, darling."

You didn't give him any warning. You just threw your fist at his face as hard as you possibly could. There was the sickening crunch of something breaking as your knuckles collided with his nose. Pride filled your chest when your fist came back bloody and left his face in a similar state. Kol moaned and shook his head, wrenching his nose back into place with a stomach-turning grinding noise.

"That was a… nice punch. Good for you. Great job. Spectacular form…" You knew he was just blabbering to cover up how much that hurt. "Will that be all?"

You thought his question over for a moment and decided you weren't quite done. You reeled your arm back and slammed your fist into his face again, this time hitting your mark.

Kol spat a mouth full of blood into the dirt and snapped his head up to look at you.

"Really?! Twice?!"

You shrugged. "There were two distinct holes in my neck. So you get two distinct punches in the face." Kol looked like he was about to say something snappy but thought better of it.

"So, you're Y/N, I take it."

"In the flesh, for one week only." You gave a flourishing bow.

"I get it now," He informed you. You raised a brow. "Willow? As in Will o' Wisp? Very funny."

"I'm hilarious like that," You said dryly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand for you to shake but you just slapped it away.

"I can't say the same," You deadpanned. "You, sir, are a pain in the neck. I mean that in multiple ways."

Kol smirked. "Let me make it up to you." He proposed.

"No." You turned and walked off. Kol chased after you, vying for your attention.

"Come on, Y/N! Wait!"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm going to say!"

"No."

"I'll buy you a drink!"

"No."

"Why not?" He whined, sounding like a child.

"Because you killed me, you ass!" You threw back, yelling over your shoulder.

"Only a little bit!" Came his pathetic defence.

"And you enjoyed it!" You couldn't shake the feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging at it the same way as he had when he'd kissed you. You could still feel his arm around your waist, crushing you against him while he drained your blood. You shivered at the memory.

"Alright, I'll admit that part is true, you did taste fantastic... But if it makes you feel better, I'll never do it again!" He promised.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." You were almost to the gate. "I have one week awake, Kol! One week!"

"I thought it was just the new moon?" He questioned, he actually sounded interested but you weren't going to fall for that.

You rolled your eyes. "It was supposed to be, but the shaman messed up the spell. I have one week every month to live, and I'm not going to spend it waiting for a freaking vampire - because apparently those are real and no one ever bothered to tell me - to kill me a second time!"

Kol stopped. "Last night, you said you feel like you're trapped-" He called out after you.

"Leave me alone, Kol," You ground out.

"You said you wanted to see the world-"

"I'm done talking to you."

"But I'd wager a bet that your curse keeps you bound to North America." He just wasn't giving up. Why was the road off their property so long?

"It keeps me from appearing outside North America. I actually got to South America once, then my week was over and I got whisked right back here," You grumbled. Suddenly Kol caught your wrist and pulled you back. You spun around to keep yourself from falling but that only gave him the opportunity to wrap his arms around you. Your magic trilled with the contact, begging you to accept him.

"I'll take you," He breathed.

"What?"

"London, Rio, Moscow, Begjing, Tokyo, even Dubi if we absolutely must - I'll take you anywhere."

You scowled at him. "Last night you murdered me, why the sudden generosity?"

Kol just shrugged. "Last night was awful and I lashed out because I was angry and scared and your blood smelled divine. But I didn't just kiss you for the hell of it."

"Yes, you did. That's just the sort of person you are," You snapped. You expected him to agree and brush it off with a joke, but that wasn't what he did. He brought his hands up to cradle your face, gently stroking your cheeks while he watched you with honest eyes.

"You're wrong about me, Y/N," He said. "I want you and I don't give up on the things I want."

You bit your lip and looked away. "I'm not someone you can keep," You whispered painfully. "I've just got the one week awake. Just one then its three to the wind."

"But we both have forever. An eternity of one weeks," He pointed out. "I can be patient when I want to be. We can take our time and I'll enjoy every fleeting moment of it with you. What do you say?"

You knew better. You knew this would only end in pain. "No."

Then his lips were on yours and it was soft and sweet and everything you'd ever wanted. Your magic raced though you like a bolt of lightning, excited for the first time in three hundred years.

"How about now?" He smirked.

"I-I can't."

"Wrong answer," Kol hummed.

He kissed you again and you could feel your will crumbling as he traced his fingers down your spine. He kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your magic buzzed along your skin, whipping around you in delight.

"Kol…" You sighed.

"What are you afraid of, darling?" He asked softly. "You can't die. Take a chance," He whispered, trailing his lips over your collar bone.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pushed him away. "You need to leave me alone," You demanded. The expression of hurt on his face tore you up but you knew this was for the best. "It's been three hundred years, I can't get my hopes up now!" You turned and started for the gate again, fighting against every instinct that told you to run back to him.

"How about I buy you dessert first?"

You stopped, cursing your weakness. "I'm listening." You felt his hands settle on your hips from behind.

"As much chocolate cake as your heart desires, darling," He offered, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Oh, you clever bastard," You muttered under your breath. You could feel him laughing.

"Soooo…." He drawled.

"Done."

And so began the best week of your life.

Tagging (because I need attention): @yn-ymn-yln @railingsofsorrow @r13mar @hellotvshowtrash (Sorry to bother you guys. If you want me to stop tagging you just let me know.) HOWEVER if you want me to tag you in any future fics of this veriaty, I will gladly do so! For those select few who have gotten this far, thanks for reading!

[mimi-cee-hq]

A Genuine Mess - Atsumu x f!reader

Pairing: Atsumu x f!reader

Summary: Atsumu insults you, the quietest girl in his class. But as he gets to know you, your few words often leave him blushing.

Genre, etc.: Tooth rotting fluff, Atsumu is a dork in love but still consistent with his canon character, reader is quiet but not timid

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: I wanted to try a different personality for the reader as well as taking one of Atsumu's negative character traits and flipping it on its head :) This was fun to write. Hehehe.

Words: 1.9k

*****

"What? She's here for me?" said Atsumu. He pressed his lips together to hide the smile forming on his lips. As he attempted to walk to the gym doors as normally as possible, Aran tilted his head while Osamu wore an amusing smirk.

Atsumu leaned on the frame of the gym doors. "What'd ya want?" he asked you, trying to be as smooth as possible. His voice didn't reveal his usual arrogance and was unexpectedly gentle.

"Could I see your hand?" you asked him with a quiet but direct tone.

When he held his hand out in front of you, you delicately turned it over, palm faced down, and positioned his fingers one by one. You didn't notice him gripping the side of his jersey in his other hand, trying to keep it together every time your fingers grazed his skin. You let go of his hand to pull out your phone and angled it to get a good shot of his hand.

Click.

"Thank you Atsumu-san," you told him, putting your phone away and leaving the gym.

Atsumu returned to the court, not even able to hide the childish grin from his teammates anymore. Some widened their eyes and others dropped their jaws as they witnessed the entire scene.

"So when did you start liking her?" Suna asked him.

"I don't like her," Atsumu adamantly responded.

A laugh escaped Osamu's lips and Atsumu told him to shut up. He hated that his twin knew exactly why he was acting like this.

*****

"Well that looks ugly."

Seated at your desk, you looked up from your sketch to see Atsumu's scrunched up nose. It didn't take long for it to disappear. Osamu whacked him on the head for insulting the quietest girl in class two and quite possibly their whole year.

"Sorry about this jerk," Osamu told you. "He doesn't have a filter."

But when he started to drag Atsumu away from you, they heard the rare sound of your voice.

"Miya-san," you said.

They both turned around but after looking at each other, they assumed you were referring to your classmate Atsumu.

"Why does it look ugly?"

"Ha?" Atsumu gawked at you. He scratched the back of his head. "I dunno. The shoulders just looked gross"–he got whacked on the head again–"Hey!" He glared at Osamu.

After they bickered for a bit, they turned their attention back to you, but you were already facing your desk, immersed in your sketch. Osamu raised an eyebrow at Atsumu, expecting him to know what that was all about, but he only shrugged his shoulders, not having a clue either.

The next time Atsumu heard your voice was when you came to see him at his desk.

"Ha? What's this?" he asked.

In front of him, you had placed another sketch. You didn't say a word but looked at him as if you were expecting some sort of comment.

Atsumu raised an eyebrow but looked at the sketch anyway.

"What's wrong with this dude's hand?" he asked as he squinted at the drawing, holding your sketchbook up to his eyes. "It looks like it's dislocated or something."

The classmate beside him shot his eyes open. He then looked up at you to see your reaction.

"Thank you," you told Atsumu with a little nod before returning to your desk. Those were the only words you had for Atsumu and they had left him and his classmate speechless.

Atsumu's eyes lit up the third time you came to his desk.

"Which one looks the worst?" you asked him, showing him three different sketches.

"This one," he said, pointing to the one in the middle. "There's no way a person could have hair like that."

You ignored his comment and asked him again which one looked worse. He still chose the middle one, saying the expression reminded him too much of his brother.

You gave him a nod as thanks and as he watched you return to your desk, there was a small uptick at the corner of his mouth, gazing at you gathering your pencils together and continuing your progress.

Over the next couple of weeks, he watched you from afar as you drew doodles during class when you should've been paying attention. He wondered if he should actually write notes from the lesson in case you needed them. Maybe he'd pass them to you the next time you showed him your artwork.

But you hadn't made a trip to his desk during the next two weeks. Why did you stop coming? So when you left the classroom, he quickly opened the sketchbook that was left on your desk and went through it page by page, curious to see what you'd been drawing this whole time. As he flipped through the pages, he saw how your drawings had gradually improved. He couldn't help but smile at your growth as an artist.

"Miya-san."

He jumped at your voice and snapped the book shut. He fumbled over his words. "I wasn't looking! It just fell and I picked it up from the ground!" he told you. "When I put it back on yer desk it just happened t' be like that!"

He then saw an expression he had never seen on your face. Your brows were furrowed and your lips turned into a frown. You let out a deep breath. "Miya-san, you're free to look through my sketchbook, but please don't lie to me."

His eyes widened before he lowered them to stare at the classroom floor. Shoulders sagging, he told you in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry." He sighed and dragged his feet back towards his desk. But just when he was about to pull out his chair, he heard your soft voice.

"Miya-san," you said, looking directly at him when he turned to you. "Like I said, you can come and look at it whenever you want."

Atsumu pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a stupid grin on his face. But his eyes betrayed his attempt as they crinkled and turned into crescents, elated at your offer.

*****

Over the next several weeks, Atsumu used any excuse he could to chat with you at your desk before he finally settled on talking to you about anything and everything. He tried to get to know you, asking you questions, but your answers were short and simple, not knowing how else to respond.

However, Atsumu shamelessly continued to talk about himself, his brother, the team, and whatever else was on his mind that day. You always nodded and listened with a smile.

"I think she's just being nice to you," commented Osamu.

"She's never stopped me," Atsumu replied with a huff, crossing his arms, which only resulted in Osamu shaking his head.

Without looking up from your sketch, you told him, "I like hearing him talk."

Osamu's eyes grew at your response but when he glanced over at his twin, Atsumu's ears and cheeks had turned red.

"Oh?" the silver haired twin said with a sly grin. "You're blushing 'Tsumu."

"No I'm not!" Atsumu said after clearing his throat and turning his head away. Osamu was about to tease him when instead, you said something that deepened his blush.

"It's cute."

Osamu's jaw dropped. Atsumu froze at your comment before deciding to put his face down on your desk, burying it into his arms.

As you and Atsumu got to know each other, he learned that you were still close with your friends from middle school. They were there for you, always supporting you and your passion for art. But when you asked them what they thought about your drawings, they had always said they looked good. You were grateful for them but you couldn't tell if they were just being nice.

"So is that why you asked me about yer drawings?" Atsumu noted. You confirmed it with a nod and he looked at you with longing eyes and a soft smile.

You caught him off-guard when you took a photo of him. "Your expression was interesting just now," you told him. "I want to use it as reference."

Atsumu blushed and covered the lower half of his face. He muttered something through his hands that you didn't quite catch.

"Hm?" you asked.

"Y-you can use me as reference any time."

You took him up on his offer. You'd often snap pictures of him, casually pulling out your phone when you'd find an interesting expression on his face. You even came to see him at practice when you wanted to practice drawing some hands. He often wondered what you noticed about him when you used him as reference, what expressions you saw in him.

One day after classes had ended and volleyball practice was cancelled, he sat at the other side of your desk as you switched to a different drawing pencil from your set. What did you see when you looked at him? His eyes? His nose? His lips?

His hand rose next to your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. When you looked up at him from your drawing, he pulled his hand back, suddenly realizing what he was doing.

He bit his lip, scolding himself for doing that to you. You called his name and his attention was back on you.

"Why did you stop?" you asked.

Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, not at all expecting those words. Looking at you through his eyelashes, he saw you directly looking back at him. Were you serious?

Somehow getting the courage to make a move, he drew his hand toward you and gently cupped your cheek. He bent over your desk and brought his lips near yours, stopping midway as if waiting for permission to follow through. You leaned in a little closer and he closed the gap, feeling your soft lips against his.

Pulling back, his eyes studied your face for some sort of reaction. He bit his lip, doubting if that was what you wanted. Perhaps he didn't do a good job or you had changed your mind after the kiss.

What if you were just doing this for reference?

He searched your eyes for an answer, not knowing that you saw the insecurity in his.

"I liked it, Atsumu."

His eyes grew. He was both delighted and flustered, not believing that he got to kiss you, that you'd accept a kiss from someone like him. He hugged you and placed a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

*****

"Guys! I have a girlfriend!" Atsumu declared, storming into the gym the next day. They all raised their brows when they saw who was holding his hand.

"Are you serious?" asked Aran.

"It's probably fake," Suna commented.

"He must have bribed her or something," Osamu added.

"All of ya just shut up!" Atsumu yelled at them as they all gave him a skeptical look. He sighed and dropped his shoulders as he held your hand.

They snickered and teased him, but when there was a silent pause in the air, they heard your voice for the first time.

"I like him," you told his team. Your voice was quiet but they heard every word. They freaked out, gawking at the two of you, an unlikely pair.

Atsumu turned his face away because his cheeks went red again. Your words, more often than not, caused him to be up in a fluster.

*****

I hope you enjoyed it.

I couldn't help but have Suna say it was fake for all my "A Glimpse of Yellow" readers. lolll.

If you liked this one, you might like one of these:

1) my Tendou one-shot (timid!reader)

2) my Sakusa one-shot (where he gets a crush on exchange student!reader)

3) my Kyoutani one-shot (another unexpected pairing)

And I want to shamelessly throw in my Suna chaptered fic (fake dating) just because it's my current series. lol.

I also have a Google form for my taglist if any of you are interested in it.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

too soon to tell, chapter t w o

You dropped your bag in the foyer of Harry’s house after work on a Thursday. It was quiet--he wasn’t home yet and you’d keyed in knowing that you’d have some time to yourself.

You felt a vibrating in your pocket when you shrugged off your coat, your visible reflection told you it was a FaceTime call, Alyssa’s name danced across the screen until you slid your thumb to answer.

“Hello, hello,” you greeted, walking to find a seat on the couch.

“Where are you?” She furrowed her brows as she took in your surroundings.

“At Harry’s--he’s out, though.”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I will never get sick of you lounging in his house when he’s not there.”

You rolled your eyes at your old roommate’s antics--she’d always been the number one supporter of your relationship and when you texted her earlier saying you needed advice, she promised to call on her lunch break.

“I’m not lounging,” you informed with a shake of your head. “I just got out of work, we’re having dinner tonight.”

“Mr. Popstar isn’t too busy?” She teased, aware of the tension both of your schedules had been causing.

“Apparently not.”

She forked a bite of food into her mouth, the sun was shining through the window behind her, the walls of your old apartment were redecorated now with the art of your replacement. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Sort of,” you leaned back and let out a breath. “I mean, it’s all connected--”

“What is?”

“I’m getting to it,” you made a face at her through the phone. “So--don’t freak out, okay? Cause I don’t even know if anything will come from it and Harry doesn’t know yet.”

She nodded and gestured with her hand for you to get on with it.

Knowing Alyssa, she was already jumping to conclusions in her head. You were pregnant, you were engaged, you quit your job, you had a huge fight with your sister. No, no, no.

“I interviewed for a job in LA...and I haven’t told Harry because all our friends have been so excited about us being in the same spot again but--”

Her eyes went wide at the mention of a US city, she did her best to hold back her smile until it faded when you said: “I don’t know. Something feels off between us.”

“Off between you and Harry? More than just being busy?”

“I’m probably overthinking it but,” you looked around his living room. Pictures of his mum, his sister, his cousins--even his manager--were tucked in frames and placed on shelves. There wasn’t a trace of you in his house except for the toothbrush upstairs and the key on your keyring.

“It feels like we’re not moving forward. And we’ve both been busy, like I’ve told you, but since we don’t live together sometimes we go days without seeing each other and it’s fine, I get that he’s busy, obviously, but--”

“But you want to move in with him.”

“Well, I don’t know--I did, sort of, I think--but then I heard about this job in LA and it sounds amazing but Jessie just moved here and no one will shut up about how great London is.”

Alyssa offered a sympathetic frown and repositioned the bowl in front of her to get another bite. “What’s the job?”

You almost didn’t want to tell her, sure she’d get excited and eager to have you back in the same country. You winced a little, bracing for her reaction. “S’with E! News,” you shrugged. “It’d be on-air.”

“Shut up! Are you serious?!”

“Yes m’serious,” you rolled your eyes. “But I haven’t told any of them because you know how they are.”

She nodded, “Jessie will not want you to take it.”

“God love her, but of course not. And Harry spends time out there, so it might be okay, but it’s not like I could ask him to go with me.”

“Why not? He’s famous, Y/N--he belongs there.”

“It’s too soon,” you whined. “He’s not my fiancé and we don’t live together, so--I don’t want to make it weird.”

“But you love him,” she reasoned.

“Yeah, but s’been weird lately!" You tried to drive home the point. "He’s made no mention of moving in and we’ve been dating for a year and a half, I’ve been in London for over a year now. He’s not even mentioned it, Alyssa, I swear. He’ll say things like ‘one day we can go on vacation,’ and ‘what should we do for Christmas?’ But he’s made no concrete plans to actually have a future with me.”

“Maybe he doesn’t think you’re ready.”

“Maybe he’s not ready,” you volleyed.

“Maybe,” Alyssa shrugged. “But you won’t know if you don’t ask him.”

“But if I ask him and he’s not on the same page I’ll look like an idiot and he’s busy with the album and now I’m thinking about moving to LA and--”

She watched you, waited for you to say more, but you were out of words. You changed gears.

“Maybe we’re just not meant to be long term.”

“Oh come on,” she groaned. “Not this again.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Your whole ‘we should have left it in New York’ shit.”

You lifted your eyebrows to demand further details.

“You were freaked out in the beginning that you’d move back there and it would be weird.”

“And?”

“Was it weird?”

“Not at first, I guess. But I mean, come on---don’t you think we should have taken some kind of step forward by now? Even just mentioning the idea of moving in together?”

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “Maybe it’s different with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes--what if that’s what you were sick of?

People always said that: it’s different because of his job, it’s different because he’s on the road, it’s different because he’s famous.

Of course it was, and that was fine, for a while. But what if Harry’s job always got in the way of feeling normal? What if you couldn’t have a real wedding because of it? What if you could never send your children to summer camp because of it?

Were you willing to sacrifice your own future to live an unconventional life with someone just because you loved him?

“When will you hear back about the job?”

“Dunno--talked to them last week on Monday and they said this week at some point. S'been a while, so hopefully soon.”

You’d been keeping busy, trying to avoid your personal email at all costs and also making sure that Harry had limited visibility of your screen at all times.

“Do you want it?”

You thought on it for a second. Being offered a job at a company like E! would certainly be an ego boost, but the mere thought of having to explain to all of your friends that yes, you’d been back in London for 18 months and now you were packing up and moving even farther away than before wouldn’t be easy. That seemed to be the one certainty in the whole situation: no one would take it well.

“I don’t want to leave everyone here, especially Harry--but I also don’t want to be stupid and think that this relationship is going somewhere if it’s not.”

Alyssa nodded and let out a sigh. “I get that, I mean, of course you have to do what’s best for you. But I’d hate to see you not be with him just because things are hard right now.”

You leaned your head back on the couch and sighed. You didn’t want to break up with Harry. If anything, you wanted to move forward and move in with him and do what you’d always imagined: have a good job, have a few kids, try to be happy.

But what if you’d been naive enough to think you could have all of that with Harry and what if this is how you were finding out that you couldn’t?

Were you still stuck in your teenage fantasy of marrying the boy you'd long been crushing on?

She watched you for a second before she reassured: “you’ll figure it out.”

You smiled, glad you’d called Alyssa if only to have someone talk you off the edge a little bit. You missed waking up one room over and her love for basketball games and New York 99 cent pizza.

“Well it’s not like I have to make a decision right now,” you said. “I haven’t even heard back from them. For all I know they could never reach out again because I bombed my interview.”

She rolled her eyes at your self-deprecation and offered a few final words of encouragement before you hung up and promised to catch up soon.

Ever since you’d left, Alyssa had taken it upon herself to keep you up to date on the ins and outs of New York. New restaurant? She’d send you pictures and a 200 word review. Crazy subway rats making the news again? Articles and video proof would be sent your way in a matter of hours.

She’d gotten a new roommate to fill your bedroom and apparently things weren’t always peachy between them. Peyton was quiet and shy--according to Alyssa. She was up every morning at 6am and in the shower at 6:30. She did yoga in the living room and hated it when Alyssa left empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

Alyssa was starting to lose her shit, swearing up and down that she needed to either pull the trigger and move in with Owen or find a new place altogether. It was my apartment first, she’d say. She should leave, not me.

It had been hard that year to leave the city you’d grown to love but harder to leave Alyssa and Carly and the things that made New York feel like home. It was also, in hindsight, hard to leave the place where you and Harry reconnected and built the foundation of your current relationship.

You heard commotion from the front door only a few minutes later when you rummaged through Harry’s kitchen for a snack.

“Hi,” he called from the other room, a close-lipped smile when you stuck your head around the corner to greet him.

“Hi! How was the photoshoot?”

“Good,” he nodded, watching as you stuck your hand into a box of crackers. “What time are we meeting everyone?”

Right--Thursday also meant dinner somewhere downtown with everyone in tow.

“7pm--but Jessie said we should try to get there early since it’s a new place and no one’s ever been.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of your words but seemed distracted, like his mind was somewhere else and his body was the only thing tying him to the room.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking back up at you. “Just a busy day and a busy week.”

You nodded, unsure if he wanted to say more or if you were supposed to have more of a reply than a simple nod of your head.

You’d both been stammering out awkward sentences and trying to dance around the elephant in the room for a few weeks, but now, under his gaze, you felt more uncertain than before.

“Are you okay?” He turned the question around and watched you closely.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, moving to sit on the couch.

“You seem--off.”

You didn’t know what it was. Could he possibly sense the tension in your shoulders as you waited for an email either way? You got the job! We regret to inform you…

Or was he just aware that you felt awkward since it had been almost two weeks since you had any considerable amount of alone time and even longer since you were able to have a date night that wasn’t interrupted by Jeff or Erica or someone who needed something from him.

He took a few steps closer towards you, a look of concern etched on his features. “What’s wrong?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue when he looked at you, eyebrows lifted as he waited for you to spit it out.

“I guess I feel like we’ve been distant.”

He pushed his head forward, almost like he hadn’t expected that to be the issue. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, caught off guard by his pushiness. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up.

“You don’t know?” He pressed.

You broke eye contact with him for a minute, wondering why you had to state the obvious. “Well, you’re busy all the time, Harry.”

He let his shoulders rise and fall in defeat, looking around the room in frustration. “I told you that finishing the album would be busy.”

“Yeah, but you forgot to mention that you’d also be busy when the album is done once promo starts and then tour,” your voice was quiet, not so much angry as you were upset.

You were tired. You wanted nothing more than to spend a night on the couch with him and only him, tell him about LA and about the sudden itch you felt to see more of the world than just London.

But with Jake and Adam always around and Bryn and Jessie, too, paired with interruptions from Jeff and Erica--it felt as if there was no hope for a private or honest conversation.

He came to sit closer to you on the couch now, took your hands in his. “I know my job is a lot, okay? I know it’s annoying that I don’t necessarily get weekends off or have a typical schedule, but once the album is out and the promo is done I’ll have a bit of a break before the tour. We can go on vacation somewhere, just us.”

It sounded nice, maybe a tropical island or a cabin in the woods. But before you could nod in agreement the thought of Los Angeles popped into your head.

His album was due out in December, promo from now through the New Year, some time off in February and March for both of your birthdays and then tour. You had no clue where you’d be by then.

Would you be in LA? Would you be in London? Would you be stuck in this same spot on his couch with decision paralysis and a crushing sense of uncertainty about the future?

He knew you were over-thinking and tilted his head. “What?”

You blew out a slow breath of air, twisted a ring on your finger and then looked up at him again.

You didn’t even have a chance to be more honest, a buzz on your phone on the coffee table in front of you both broke the room in half, the name of the woman you’d spoken to was in bold next to your email icon. You reached for it quickly, Harry’s brows furrowed when you pulled it close to your chest so he wouldn’t see.

“What’s that?”

Hi Y/N, thank you so much for your patience over the last few days. We would love to offer you a position with NBC Universal - E! News as an on-air correspondent in our Los Angeles headquarters.

You looked up at him quickly, cheeks red and heart racing.

“What’s happening, are you okay?”

“I got a job offer,” you said quickly, still holding the phone close to you.

“What?” He smiled, “why didn’t you tell me you were looking? I didn’t even know--”

“It’s in Los Angeles.”

His smile faded instantly, he blinked a few times like he must have misheard you. The leather of his couch felt cool beneath your legs, a clock on the wall ticked and for a second, you wondered if he could hear your pulse as loudly as you could.

He pulled his eyes away from you but then quickly scanned over your face. “Are you taking it?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?���

Silence, words filled your brain and crawled up the back of your throat, desperate to be said out loud, in real life, instead of just circling in your head.

Because I don’t know what we’re doing or if we’re moving forward. I don’t know where I want to live. I don’t know if I can stay in London forever. I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

Only the last part made it out between your lips. “I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he stood up, more angry now as he looked around the room and scratched at the base of his neck. “This kind of feels like a bombshell to drop on someone.”

“I was going to tell you--but we haven’t had a second alone, I just didn’t want to have to tell everyone before I knew what was happening.”

“You didn’t even tell me you interviewed,” he said.

“The last time I saw you alone we got interrupted by Erica three times in one conversation.”

“Probably for a good reason--”

“But you seriously can’t even put your phone down lately when we have dinner, even when everyone else is there!”

“I can’t help it that my work is insanely busy right now!”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” you said this quickly, voice higher than usual and a heat on your skin that he normally didn’t provoke, at least not in a bad way. You stood from the couch and put your hands on your hips. “I don’t know what I’m going to do and I don’t even know if this job is right for me and under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone. Especially Jessie.”

He rolled his eyes at that.

“What’s the eye roll for?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Everyone just got back and now you might leave and--”

“I said I don’t know if I’m going to take it.”

He was quiet at that, clucked his tongue in thought but then disappeared upstairs to shower and change.

The car ride over was awkward, he asked how your day had been and you told him you talked to Alyssa, he bristled when you admitted you told her about it.

It wouldn’t be the end of the conversation, you were sure of that. You’d likely end up at his for the night and he’d apologize for being busy, you’d apologize for not telling him and maybe, you hoped, he’d ask you to stay over.

When you greeted Adam with a hug, you ignored Harry’s sour mood and opened the menu in front of you.

“My first dinner as a Londoner,” Jessie smiled, shimming her shoulders in excitement when Bryn looked over the specials across the table from you.

“This is on you, right? New job, new salary?” Jake teased.

“Maybe if I hadn’t just bought a whole new bedroom set,” she rolled her eyes.

“How’s everything with you?” Adam eyed Harry, his question veiled to avoid too many details in public.

Luckily, Harry’s ability to go out in public in London was similar to that in New York. As long as a private room or a table in the back was requested, he could typically get away unscathed if dinner was less than 2 hours and if he had his back to the dining room.

“Fine,” he shrugged, eyes still down at the drink menu.

“Fine?” Jessie leaned forward, her tone insinuating that she didn’t believe him. “You’ve been working really hard all summer and now all you say is ‘fine?’”

He glanced up at her, lips in a forced smile. “S’all good, Jess--just tired.”

Bryn gave you a look, one that asked what stick is up his ass?, before she changed the topic.

“Let’s not tell our server how fit she is tonight, yeah?”

Jake let out a snort of a laugh and sipped at the water that had already been brought to your table. “Alright, you thought the one last week was just as hot as I did.”

“I did,” Bryn agreed seriously, “but I didn’t offer my number unsolicited. How do you know she’s even straight?”

“She’s got a point,” Jessie chimed in. “Remember when you asked that girl to dance in the club when her girlfriend was right there with her arm around her?”

“I thought they were just mates!” Jake defended.

“You also have the worst radar for gay women ever,” Bryn nodded.

“When was this?” Harry asked, the hint of a smile on his face when he watched Jake adjust his napkin on his lap.

The words came out of your mouth without thought. “You weren’t here--you were in LA.”

He met your eyes when you replied, nodded, and then leaned back in his chair, effectively bowing out of the conversation without saying another word.

You weren’t trying to be short with him. You looked over to Jessie, who undoubtedly sensed the tension, and offered a smile. “How’s the flat?”

“Good,” she nodded. “Glad that all my furniture got put together without any scratches,” she reached over and patted Adam on the shoulder.

“We’re not children, Jessie, we can handle some furniture.”

“You broke my dresser when I asked you guys to move it into another room,” Bryn reminded, a look of confusion on her face at Adam’s retort.

“Only because it was already half broken and a piece of shit,” Jake said. “I love you, Brynnie, but that dresser was already knocking on Heaven’s door.”

Harry let out a laugh at that, another memory that he had missed while on a trip to a studio somewhere north of London. He excused himself to the bathroom after you placed your orders, and once he was out of earshot, Jake leaned down and looked at you.

“What’s going on with him?”

You forced a cheesy grin and blinked a few times. “He’s just grumpy.”

“‘Bout what?” Bryn asked.

“Guys,” you leaned back in your chair, hoping you didn’t have to say too much. “I can’t tell you every single thing that happens in our relationship.”

“Well, when it affects us I think we have the right to know,” Jessie shrugged, playing the typical we don’t like when our parents fight card.

“It’s not affecting you,” you shook your head, eyed her seriously over your glass of Pinot Noir.

Adam shrugged, a smirk on his face let you know he was trying to rile you up. “He’s grumpy at dinner and we’re all here and we’re all aware of it. We don’t like tension between you two.”

“Alright, leave the woman alone,” Jake waved them off. “As long as everything’s alright.”

“It’s totally alright,” you nodded, wondering when you’d gotten so comfortable lying to them. “He’s just busy with the next phase of work.”

With Harry’s album yet to be announced, you couldn’t sit around in a London restaurant and divulge details--even if you were all acutely aware of the work he’d put in and the upcoming announcements and events.

Adam let it go. “How’s work for you, Smalls?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “s’good--I told you all about my November cover story, right?”

“Yeah,” Jessie sipped a glass of Cabernet. “But you said you didn’t know who it was going to be with.”

“Well, s’cause I had to drop the bomb on him first,” you nodded in the direction of the bathroom. “I’ll be sitting down in a few days with Ms. Gigi Hadid,” you lowered your voice and leaned forward to say her name.

Bryn’s eyes went wide, Jake grimaced.

“How’d he take that?” Adam asked.

“He’s not thrilled,” you admitted. “But I’ll talk with his team about what to avoid specifically, I guess. Her team will probably have a list of off-limits items too.”

Bryn let her elbows rest on the white tablecloth. “Yeah, but, you can’t just ignore the fact that she’s dating Zayn.”

“I also can’t just barge in and stir shit up,” you said.

Harry pulled his chair out next to you and sat back down. “Who are you stirring shit up with?”

Everyone chose to be quiet now--Adam looked down at his phone and Jessie reached for her wine again.

“Just telling them about my cover story,” you admitted, watching his face for a reaction.

He nodded, a tiny smirk in your direction. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stir shit up,” he said, reaching to put a hand on your thigh beneath the table.

Those were the moments that made you feel less panicky--the realization that he was still choosing you and even when the tension was high and the mood was low, he’d reach over and remind you that yes, he cared. Even if he was late to dinner or distracted.

Which is why, when you got back in his car that night and headed for his house, you were surprised when his mood shifted again.

“I’ll just drop you at yours?”

“Oh--yeah, sure.”

“Did you want to come to mine?” He looked over at you like he hadn’t expected any resistance to sleeping separately.

You were quiet for a second--not if he didn’t want you there. “No, it’s fine.”

“I can’t read your mind, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly, a prickly tone to your words when he made an unreadable face.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, closing in on your neighborhood when the street lamps disappeared for the sake of suburbia.

Eventually he cleared his throat and that sent you over the edge.

“What do you want me to say, Harry? Do you want me to apologize for interviewing for this job?”

“No,” he said simply. “I just don’t know why you thought you didn’t need to tell me about a huge decision like that.”

“It wasn’t a decision until today when they offered it to me.”

“Just seems like something you talk to your boyfriend about.”

You looked over at him in the dark of night, the glow from the dashboard didn’t help you see his features as he turned left onto your street.

“Well, sorry that we didn’t have the opportunity to talk about it between your work schedule and Jessie moving in and group dates--”

He slowed down on your street, put his flashers on when he stopped in front of your building. “I don’t want to keep secrets from each other,” his voice was softer now. “I don’t want to not know what’s going on in your life. I did enough of that for two years when we weren't talking.”

You sighed at this, the sentiment broke whatever anger was lurking inside you and when you looked up to see him, you wondered if you should ask him.

Are we ever going to move in together? Are we ever going to get engaged?

You figured the lead up to his sophomore album wasn’t the best time for that conversation. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you climbed the stairs to your flat alone.

**

A few days later you sat nervously in a conference room and watched as beads of sweat formed on the water glass in front of you. Tyler had brought you in, offered you a breath mint, and promised you’d be fine. When you asked him if the whole room was hot he said it was just you and your nerves--but the droplets of water that raced towards the wooden conference table begged to differ.

You’d gotten email after email this morning: one from Jeff with the rules he and Harry had come up with and eight from Gigi’s team with requests for snacks, topics to discuss, topics to avoid, lunch request, arrival and departure time, and a few extra regarding booking her photoshoot the next day.

A text lit up your screen when you tried to smooth your your hair in the reflection of your screen.

Jake Newcomb (10:42am): In case you’re wondering what to get me for my birthday, a video of Gigi Hadid saying she loves me would be perfect!

You ignored his text and felt a pang of disappointment in your gut, you thought it would have been Harry with words of encouragement.

He was fine with you doing the interview, he seemed to come around to the idea when he met with Jeff and had a chance to mark some things as off limits.

So far, his list was as follows:

Don’t publish anything too negative about anyone in the band (if she says anything negative about anyone in the band)

Harry and Jeff got to listen to the taped interview

Harry and Jeff got to read the article before you sent it off to your editor and could make suggestions to cut things if they felt it necessary.

It seemed silly, but you’d long been used to the lingo of contracts and riders and ground rules for things like these. You knew both Harry and Jeff trusted you, in fact, Jeff was now choosing to see this as a good opportunity for press before the announcement of Harry’s album.

Your biggest concern, truly, was not looking/sounding/acting like an idiot in a room alone with Gigi Hadid. Your second biggest concern was conducting a unique interview and writing a unique article.

You knew that Naomi and Tyler were nearby for support if needed, Tyler had already walked by the conference room three times to see if your subject had arrived and likely to make sure you hadn’t sweat through your blouse. You thought the commotion in the hallway was him until you saw a group of busy-looking people with cellphones and sunglasses.

“Hi,” you stood from your chair, extended a hand in her direction and offered your best professional smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Gigi, thanks for doing this interview.”

She seemed hesitant at first, smiled a little and shook your hand. “Happy to,” she said. She turned over her shoulder and locked eyes with the woman who seemed to be the most in-charge of the group. “I’m good,” she nodded.

They hustled out quickly, you stood frozen in place and watched as she took off her coat before sitting in the chair you’d pulled out for her. Once the door was shut behind her posse, she let out a sigh that bled into a frustrated laugh.

“I could never do an interview with all of them just loitering around--wouldn’t that be so weird?”

You nodded, mirrored her smile and had to remind your body how to move. Left foot, right, breathe, sit in the chair.

You weren’t really one to get star struck, but then again, you didn’t spend too much time with celebrities that weren’t Harry or his close friends. You certainly never sat down with a model like Gigi to have a conversation that could be as awkward as this one.

She checked her phone quickly but then put it face down on the table. “I am happy to do this, I know it might feel weird for us to be hanging out--but boys are stupid anyway.”

You smiled at this, immediately relaxed when she leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“Did you also get a whole list of things to not talk to me about?”

She stifled a laugh and rolled her eyes. “Zayn can be a man of few words but,” she looked down at your phone on the table. “Off the record--he had quite a bit to say when I told him you were doing the interview.”

“Off the record,” you laughed, “Harry did too. But how is Zayn?”

“He’s good--thinking about getting back in the studio at some point to start working on a new album, he’s been writing a bunch. Harry’s doing the same I assume?”

“Yes, yeah, he’s been really busy.”

“I know things might not have gone great between all of them at the end, but I don’t want this to be awkward for us.”

“Me neither. You can say as much or as little about the band as you’d like.”

She nodded, you figured it was time to give your pre-interview spiel.

“So, I’ll record us in a few seconds, you can obviously say ‘off the record’ if there’s something you don’t want me to include, but I like my interviews to be like conversations, basically. I’ll send someone on your team the recording when we’re done and a typed transcript. You’ll have 48-hours to look over it and revoke any statements that you don’t want me publishing or to clarify anything. After that I’ll write the story, send a final copy to your team before it gets finalized here, again, 48-hours to look it over and request any changes but at that time we don’t have to approve the requests. This is all in a document somewhere that someone probably signed for you--I’m sure your team is used to it, they know what they’re doing.”

You reached forward and pressed a few buttons on your phone, she watched until you looked up and told her: “It’s on now, so we’re recording and today is September 10th, 2019.”

She smiled like you were old friends. “Where do we start?”

“Is there somewhere you want to start?”

She leaned her head to the side. “We can jump right to it--”

“To what?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “Us talking about One Direction will make headlines for weeks.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “It’s funny that us just sitting down together will be a big deal, right? As if we’ve got nothing better to talk about than them.”

“Sexism at it’s finest,” she admitted.

“Do you find that a lot in your industry?”

She thought on this for a second, looked out the window but nodded. “It’s unavoidable, in a lot of ways. I think there have been a lot of changes over the last few years to at least move us in the right direction, but we’ve got a long way to go.”

“How would you want to see it change for the better?”

“Well, I’d love to have more privacy about my love life, for one,” she caught herself, looked to you quickly as if she felt bad. “Off the record, we can talk about it here, it’s fine. It’s different to talk about it with a woman, number one. And you’re you, you get it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you offered.

“No, I don’t mind. Unless you plan on asking me stupid things like how amazing is it to be dating someone as handsome as him or do I find that his job overshadows mine, we’re good. We can be back on the record, too,” she looked down at the numbers on your phone, eyeing the ticking of the recording clock.

“But do you know what I mean? No one asks guys questions like that--or they’re different, at least. People just want to know everything about your relationship when you’re a woman and they view you in the context of who you’re sleeping with.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I get that.”

She smiled, “it’s hard to date someone famous, isn’t it? Lots of rules around it.”

You were surprised by the genuine look in her eyes, despite her own status and contracts and income, she seemed to be acknowledging that the two of you shared a unique experience and were now brought together under strange circumstances.

“It’s definitely hard for me--but, isn’t it easier seeing as you also have an assistant and a manager and people to, I don’t know, facilitate things? Not to invalidate how hard it still is.”

She laughed at that, “Yeah, in some ways, probably. He’s really private though, which is good for us. We focus on ourselves and do our own thing most of the time.”

“Right--you seem pretty private about it for the most part.”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, reflecting on your words for a second. “I think to me it feels weird that my relationship status can make so much news, you know? Modeling is my job and obviously that’s not your typical nine-to-five but--I like to focus on my work and when male journalists are continuously obsessed with my love life, I find that weird. I mean, you get that, right? I’m sure it’s no different with Harry.”

You bit your lip, embarrassed at how she’d managed to turn it around. She was right--you’d been getting more and more annoyed with how much your relationship with Harry was dictating your life--and for some reason, you admitted this to her.

“People are much more interested in me because I’m dating him--but they’d be just as interested in you even if you weren’t.”

“Would they?” She tilted her head to the side, another rise and fall of her shoulders as she looked around the room. “I get what you’re saying, but sometimes it feels like dating him gave my career a huge boost. I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I totally get it. I feel the same way. I was building my career in New York and it was going well and I was writing fun stuff and making a name for myself and then I started hanging out with him and--”

“Everyone started to care more about you?”

“Exactly.”

You thought about the headlines, the articles, the pictures in tabloids that undoubtedly helped your name spread like wildfire through London and New York. You had to ignore it, most of the time, reassure yourself that you were a good journalist and a good employee and the good things in your career were not just a byproduct of the boy who slept in your bed.

She smiled knowingly, her lips in a thin line when she looked down to the tape recorder, almost like she felt guilty for steering the conversation in a different direction.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, sitting up straight. “Back to business.”

The conversation bled into more normal things: the upcoming fall fashion week, how she manages self-care when she’s busy jetting from city to city, and, try as you might, the two of you wound your way back to your commonalities a few times: sexism in your industries, life as young women dating famous men.

You thanked her profusely at the end and promised that Tyler would be in touch to confirm the date and time for her corresponding photoshoot later that week. She draped a Versace leather tote over her shoulder and seemed to float out of the office with a posse of beautiful people behind her.

You stood--still awestruck--in the hallway and watched as the elevator doors slid shut.

“She’s prettier in person,” Tyler said from beside you, a notebook in hand as he stared at the air she’d once occupied. “I didn’t know if that type of thing was possible but she’s definitely one of the prettiest humans I’ve ever seen.”

“She was nice,” you turned around to see Naomi behind him, also eager for more details. You headed back for your office in a trance, they scurried behind you as you thought aloud. “I mean, I didn’t think she’d be rude--but I didn’t know what to expect with the whole band history stuff.”

“Did you talk about that?”

“Less about the band and more about--” you blinked a few times and sat down at your desk, “sexism, what it’s like to be a woman dating a famous man and how that affects your career.”

Both of their eyes went wide, a smile tugged at Naomi’s lips when Tyler put a hand over his heart in shock.

“I’m sorry, so you’re telling me that you just had a heart to heart with Gigi Hadid about sexism and your boyfriends and--”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, just as surprised as they were.

**

You gave Harry fewer details that night over FaceTime as you brushed your teeth. He was somewhere in New York, disappointed that he’d miss Jake’s birthday dinner and celebration, but he promised to make it up to him when he got back.

He lifted a cup of tea to take a sip, light shone through the window behind him on your screen and he scrolled through emails on his laptop.

You spit into the sink, an ocean between you.

“Have you thought at all about the offer? You have to tell them by tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded, wiped at your mouth with a towel and then crossed your arms. “I can stay, I mean--if you want me to.”

He made a face at that, leaned forward and furrowed his brows together. “Of course I want you to stay, Y/N, but I don’t want to be the reason you pass on something important."

You were quiet for a second, uncapped lotion before spreading some across your forehead.

"I'm sorry I didn't react well when you told me. I'm proud of you and it sounds like a phenomenal opportunity...I don't know, it's just the timing of it--"

You cut him off, “well none of this is ideal timing, Harry.”

“Do you mean with my album?”

“I mean with any of it,” you said truthfully. “The album, the job offer--”

“Well the album existed before the job offer,” he trailed off.

Only a matter of seconds and a handful of words had managed to get you elevated and angry and ready to fight. That was happening more easily, these days.

“So what am I supposed to do? Always come second? Make every decision in my life based off of your career and your music?”

“S’not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that--I dunno--I thought you knew what you were getting into.”

Quiet, your hands gripped the counter in your bathroom. Your bare feet were on the floor and you wondered why you were trying so hard to make everything work if things were only getting harder.

“That came out wrong,” he shook his head, the look on his face let you know he wanted to take it back.

“No, it didn’t." You let out a sharp laugh. "I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Take the job,” he said quickly, like he saw you reaching for the button to end the FaceTime call.

“What?”

“Take it. If it’ll make you happy, take it.”

“And what about us?”

“We figure it out,” he shrugged. “We try.”

You sighed, unsure what to say.

"It's Los Angeles," he said. "Not Antarctica."

You blew air between your lips, looked up at him for a second. The curl of hair that dipped onto his forehead, the way his mouth pulled up in the corner like it always had.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

His words didn’t offer any relief and you spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning and wondering how on earth you were supposed to make a decision.

Leaving him in London felt stupid. A few bumps in the road and you were ready to jump ship?

But staying and hoping for a ring or a shared address felt even stupider, somehow. You couldn’t pass up a dream job and hope that things would go well for your career if you weren’t going to work for it.

A few hours of rest came after 3am, your morning coffee was a tad bitter and the clouds in the sky seemed to match your mood. Maybe you should have spent more time thinking it over, talking it out, even calling your mum or Katie for advice.

But you couldn’t have told everyone about the job offer without a certain answer, and unfortunately, the person you wanted to talk to the most didn’t seem like he could be impartial.

You’d been upset, you’d been feeling disconnected from him, but that didn’t erase all of the good times and the happy memories you’d made, right?

Naomi and Tyler locked themselves in your office for lunch on Friday, they promised that they’d never tell your boss and they swore they supported you either way. Tyler used an expo marker to make a pros and cons list of staying in London and Naomi came up with a points system for each bullet on the list.

You stared at it, looked at the names of all of your friends, your family, your favorite cafes and restaurants in London. At the very bottom of what had become a long list of reasons to stay was his name.

And on the other side, Tyler’s poor drawing of an engagement ring sat beside a big question mark.

You didn’t know what the future held for you and Harry, and maybe that was okay. You didn’t know what would happen when you packed your life into a suitcase and moved to New York, but you’d survived to tell the tale.

They were quiet, eyes darting from the board back to you as they waited for you to say something.

You sighed, Tyler shifted on the couch in your office and Naomi smoothed out her blouse.

“I can’t take it,” you said.

Tyler’s eyes went wide, “really? You’re staying?”

“I can’t leave,” you shrugged. “I can’t leave him behind and leave my friends and start all over in a new city right as I’m really finding my groove here again.”

“Okay, I know we said we’d support you either way but I would have been fucking pissed if you went,” Tyler admitted, moving closer to wrap his arms around you.

You laughed, let him squeeze you before Naomi joined in.

“Me too,” she confessed, a smile on her face when she pulled away. “But I would have at least faked happy for you.”

You bit back the doubt and second-guessing, used their excitement to fuel a regretful email.

Thank you so much for the opportunity, but after careful consideration I cannot accept this position due to the geographical location.

Your thumb hovered over the small blue arrow, a wave of panic flooded through you when you hit send, like somehow, something inside of you knew that everything was about to change.

join the tag list here | talk to me

tag list: @thurhomish @styles217 @ursamajor603 @mleestiles @determined-overthinker @g0bl1nqueen @hsfics @sing-me-a-song-harry @theresnooneheretosave @cronias13 @rainbowbutterflyboy @unknown7549

AN: apologies in advance for the cliffhanger......except I'm not sorry lmao

[hohoz]

How RE Village (8) SOLVED almost every problem that I had with RE Series

Okay - a few weeks ago I made a post that was “The ones that suffer the most” where I showed and explained my main problems with Chris and Jill and the RE series in general 

RE 1 is my fav game of this series and probably one of my all time favs, I player every RE there is to be played except 4 (because I dislike Leon, sry) 

Recently, specially after 4, the franchise had a few problems, specially in writing/map design/lore 

Resident evil 5 for example (I love this game) but it has it flaws, Chris there is only driven by anger and action - Sheva is used as a tool for lore exposition and to be Chris’s new partner 

PLEASE: be aware that game at that generation didn’t have much lore - with some exceptions, like God of War 1 2 3 were a simply game with a simple lore, and the most recent GoW has evolved a little bit in the storytelling

Until we hit rock bottom in RE6 - I know a lot of people like this game, but this is only and action game, bad writing and generic stages. 

Chris there is so mistreated that makes me mad (if you want to read more about this go to my other post “the ones that suffer the most”)

Until RE7 appeared, Capcom had a new engine and they wanted to do a game that was more horror like - since RE is know for being a Survival horror game.

I liked 7 - some people complained about Ethan being without emotion and others complained about the mold, a few didn’t like the FEAR vibes from Eveline. 

I personally enjoyed the game, I thought RE series was going back on track, that game has it’s problems but it was really nice compared to what we had in 6.

After that game I had a conversation with my best friend and I said that I wanted a game that portrayed Umbrella’s fall since the only game that shows this is Umbrellas Chronicles (and that is most a resume of what happened)

And I said: “Bro, I wish that when they made that game, they could tie some mythological lore and human evolution before Umbrella - using Spencer, this would solve LOT OF STUFF and open new ways to handle this series”

and guess what - this happened in RE8 and kudos to the one writer that did that, i have my gratitude. 

RESIDENT EVIL 8 is probably one of the BEST RE games that we had IN YEARS

And I want to address all thing that I loved in this game and do some predictions to what will happen in the next games.

“WELL WELL IF IT ISN’T ETHAN WINTERS” (The Father of the year)

My father was not a great guy... really, so I want to be the best dad ever, I really want be like Ethan - a guy who is ready to sacrifice and fight every monster in the way to save my family. 

Ethan was a character that in RE7 was used to make us fell like that it was us in the Baker’s house, so that is why he didn’t had that much personality (in my opinion) but they changed that in RE8, here he has nice dialogues AND a diary 

He has one of the best story line in the whole REverse, a guy that did EVERYTHING in his power to save his daughter - and you saw that playing the game, every sentence line that he delivered, he tried to save others too and even tho Chris said to him stay put ... but he couldn’t, he had to go to the altar, he had to help Chris, he had to go forward and keep going, specially after having the tools to face Heisenberg. 

The plea from a father, that was his last wish, after he heard that Mia was alive he knew that someone had to stop that monster, he made a promise to his daughter “Daddy won’t let those weird fairy tale monsters get you” so he trusted Chris, to be the one that teaches his kid how to be brave and strong

I will not address Chris and Rose situation here because this is Ethans part and he deserves completely all the spotlight, his sacrifice was 100x times better than Steve (CV)/Piers(6)

My cheers to Ethan Winters - You have my respect !

Revelations -> RE8 

So leaks from earlier times said that RE8 sucked and Revelations 3 was amazing

Revelations FYI is know for using old tales in RE stories 

Revelations 1 - Dante’s Inferno 

Revelations 2 - Frans Kafka 

Revelations 3 - Dracula 

But since RE8 sucked, Capcom said to the REV3 team that they could make REV3 become RE8 and they accepted 

Revelations series is one of the best in the games, they handle Jill in a way that I love, Claire and even Barry - so they deserve all the spotlight for making this awesome game - you CLEARLY can see that they love this series and that they treat all the characters with the love that they deserve. 

Keeping that in mind, they are the same team that made Rev 2 and in REV 2 we have this file here 

So they had a plan for Jill and we can see that in RE8 - I will address that later but keep that in mind - this team cares for the old characters, they were the ones that brought Barry back to the games :V 

Chris Redfield 

This is a hard one, because he is my fav character and I usually have the most critics regard him, since I’ve expect a lot from Capcom 

In the latest games they made him kind dumb, only muscles type of guy and an alcoholic that let all the people in his surroundings die (RE5,RE6,Vendetta) 

RE6 treats him the WORST

But in RE8 he had an amazing part in the storyline, it was obvious that he wasn’t evil and they FIXED HIS EYE COLOR - FINALLY 

I still don’t like the model face that much but it’s way better than 7 - so I believe Capcom, I still feel that he need more jawline 

But let’s go to the most important thing - here he really feels like a squad leader and a veteran, he has his team but he is the one in the front line, he covers and ask for help when he needs, everything about his line delivery makes you feel like “Woah, this guy is a badass, he is not some stupid guy only driven by emotions”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FINALLY GETTING THIS RIGHT 

If you remember my post about the ones that suffer the most / Jill is also in that list and I will talk about her a little bit later but if my guess is right RE8 saved her character aswell

Another thing that I enjoyed here is the fact that he is kind of a mercenary / Neo Umbrella kind of guy, even tho he is one of the founders of the BSAA

So I will give you all my score to this game: 

9/10

I won’t give 10/10 because of some technical issues, the cursor lock didn’t work and mouse sensitivity was i dunno, not the best. 

RE8 and the future (PREDICTIONS)  - Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, BSAA, Neo Umbrella, Ada Wong and Rosemary

First let’s look Rose

The first time I saw Rose all grown up - I thought to myself : She has the same problem as Eveline (age a lot faster than normal) 

But she also absorbed Miranda’s power since the metalicite (something like this) thought that she was a better host. - so maybe she will live longer or something because I doubt that they will do a 14 years time skip. 

This is not the same as Terra Save logo (Claire’s job) but it kind reminds me of it - her shoes appeared at least 3 times in this cut scene so maybe they are trying to show some hints with this 

She really reminds me of Jodie (Beyond two souls, a game where a girl has a lot of power and the gov uses her in missions and stuff, but she also is learning how to be her own person) 

Another thing here is that they don’t have a logo in this car, it really reminds me the car that Chris as using in RE8 

This supports the theory that Chris’s organization is dealing with her instead of the BSAA, the she is a hot headed girl and that she had a lot of powers. 

So here you can say that she is just a kid because she is a teenager, but what if she actually grows older really fast (like Eveline) maybe this is just 1 year later / 2 yrs later. (after RE8)

So this is the tricky part, this is Chris’s guard/soldier, someone that Chris trust to stand by her side, in my mind I do believe that Chris is kind of a father figure to her, so when this guys says this he is thinking about hot head Chris but she replies “Yeah” thinking about Ethan - (she has the mold memories, so she can actually remember Ethan’s memories) 

Now let’s look at this 

BSAA 

So in REV1 is hinted that BSAA is not the best organization in the world, but since our heroes work there we think that they are the good guys right ? 

In REV 2 (it’s important to remember that the team that created RE8 is the same from the REVELATIONS and they had this file here in REV2)

This email is from Jill and what does Jill have ? T-Virus 

Wesker is a different case since he was a project and she had the vaccine but this would make a lot of sense if they had this tests with Jill to get the T-Virus

If that is the case, they explained Jill’s absence in the main games, could even explain why Chris left BSAA and opened a new window to a lot of possibilities 

My Predictions: 

- Chris had trouble dealing with BSAA and Jill’s case, he wanted to get her out of there, maybe he removed her from there but that resulted in him being expelled from the force

-Jill may or may not know what they are doing with her blood, but she will have a huge part in the BOW used by BSAA 

-Chris is married to Jill (sorry- I had to place this here, in a perfect world he has two kids with her and they all love aunt Rose) 

-Chris will hopefully be a father figure to Rose and they will be in a game together since in the end they came to get her

-Rebecca is still involved in BSAA activities (leak from new REV3) if you consider Vendetta canon, she maybe the one that used Jill’s sample of blood to create the virus soldiers

-Barry maybe retired 

-I don’t think Leon will be in this game, but he will get his RE4 Rmk 

- I do believe RE9 will be release after Code veronica rmk and MAYBE they will do a game about Umbrella’s Fall (Chris and Jill in Europe against Red Queen and BOWs) 

But that is it, you can see a lot of elements from old RE games in RE8, they tried to do something really smart and the game felt amazing to play, that was something else and it’s been a while since a player a RE game that made me feel that way <3

[hannya-writes]

Stupid Weaknesses

Title: Stupid weaknesses

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Other characters:

Category: Romance, Fluff

Warnings: None I guess, nudity maybe? But nothing sexual!

Author's note: I just wanted to write some more for this man, because I love him and got this headcanon about Levi having a weakness for his girlfriend when she's fresh out of the shower. Why? I dunno BUT my cat has this weakness, right after a shower the little Mf comes running to me and ask for cuddles and love. (?)

• • •

It was late at night, almost midnight when Y/n decided that it was time to go to bed. Half of Levi paperwork was done, she had read the reports he hadn't time to read, she redacted a list of things to do, prioritizing what was urgent. She left out the meetings in which his assistant wasn't necessary so she could attend and take notes.

— Let's go — she said from her side of the office, Levi raised his head from the most boring report he had ever read in his life. Y/n had left a feather over the perfectly alined paper, she took off her jacked, her white dress shirt had the first three buttons undone, leaving her unexposed collarbones be seen, a suggestion of the curve of her breast.

— I'll go in a second — he promised taking his eyes away from her.

— yeah, sure — she dragged the vowels, sarcasm pretty obviously. — And I'm titan— she added.

Levi sent her a murderous gaze.

— a fucking mess is what you are...— he muttered annoyed.

— I know — she sounded almost happy, he made a disgusted expression — that's why I'll take shower — she ran her hands through her hair while saying that.

— Y/n — he warned her seriously, she smiled and unbuttoned her shirt a bit more, the buckle of the belt over her breast clanked when it was undone.

— ¿Yes, Levi? — she asked as she took off her boots and walked out of the office, directly to his room.

He stood up and followed her, starting to undress himself. She walked to the shower and he followed.

Cold water fell over both of them, Y/n put shampoo on Levi's hair and he did the same for her. There was absolutely nothing sexual in the shared shower. It was more of an activity they liked to do together. Of course there were lingering touches, soft loving caresses and sweet kisses.

Levi hated his weakness for something so common and simple, but it bothered more how Y/n used it as an strategy, because right after the shower she'll put on one of his t-shirts, underwear and laid in bed. He tried to avoid it, but failed miserably when she yawned and asked for cuddles. He as any other men wasn't able to say no to his lover. He laid on bed with her, snuggling his face to her neck, breathing the delicious smell of soap, that peculiar fragrance proper of her skin and a touch of flowers from her shampoo. That was his favorite smell in the world. It made him feel safe and sound. Her hands ran through his hair and it made him relax, guiding him to fall asleep.

"Shit" he cursed in his mind before being dragged to the land of dreams.

When he woke up, he cursed once more, she did it again, she managed to keep him asleep for over 6 hours by staying with him in bed.

— Stupid weaknesses — he muttered for himself however seeing a sleepy Y/n walking back to bed made him feel... Grateful to whichever god there was or maybe to his luck, for finding someone so caring and loving to use his weakness against him for his sake.

[heartsywritesthethings]

Sk8: The Sleepover

Author: GA!babe

Summary: The gang’s all here for a sleepover at Reki’s! In a discussion of skate names, Reki finds himself the center of attention after getting flustered by the mere mention of the word “tickle” (2,842 words)

“Langa! Glad you came!” Reki exclaimed as he opened the door to find his best friend standing there. 

And then he looked behind the boy and saw…four other people right behind him.

“Uh, what are they doing here?” Reki asked, trying not to sound too rude, but it’s not like he wanted to invite two grown men, a clown, and a literal child over to his house as well. It was just supposed to be him and Langa tonight.

“Oh, well when you told me that your mom and sister were out of town for some mother-daughter bonding, I thought it would be nice if everyone came along.” Langa said with a smile. It made Reki wonder again why that smile made his heart flip flop. This boy? The one with a pile of snow in place of a brain?

“That’s not a problem, right, Reki?” Miya asked, snaking himself around Langa’s legs and looking up at the red head with his big puppy-dog eyes. 

Reki took a deep breath.

“No, of course not. Come on in,” Reki sighed and took a small step aside so everyone could walk into his house. The house that he wasn’t supposed to have anyone else in while his mother and sister were away. That one. 

“Nice place you have here, Reki. I’m sure the ladies love a humble man who lives with his mom,” Joe teased on his way in, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Just so you know, Carla said there was a 95% chance that we were seen by one of your neighbors. I hope you aren’t grounded for too long after your mother finds out,” Cherry said as he slid by.

“Thanks for telling me,” Reki whined, his shoulders slumping. Great. Now it was almost guaranteed that he would be grounded when his mom got back.

“Wait, you’re not allowed to have people over? Why didn’t you say so?” Shadow hissed, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was outside looking at him.

“Well, that’s not exactly–” Langa began.

“What kind of flowers does your mom like? I can get her a vase before she even gets home,” Shadow continued. taking out a little notepad from his pocket and waiting for a response.

“Uh, she likes lillies I think?” Reki said with a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Shadow scribbled it down with a frown.

“Not exactly the best of apology flowers, but I’ll see what I can do,” the older man grumbled as he stepped into the house.

“Sorry for ruining your date night, Reki. Sleepovers are fun though. Do you think we should braid each other’s hair?” Miya said, popping a bubblegum bubble as he also walked into the house.

“Date?” Reki squeaked, his face turning a rather nice shade of pink. Miya just laughed as he skipped towards the couch.

“You will not get your little claws on my hair!” Cherry snapped from the other room.

And then he was alone with Langa. The guy he had wanted here…alone in the house. 

“Sorry, was I not supposed to invite them over?” Langa asked, smiling awkwardly. Reki couldn’t help but melt just a little. How could he say no to that face?

“Ah, no, you’re fine. I just forgot to ask for them over too. I just got, uh, busy with a new…new board! Yeah! Thanks. You saved me the trouble.” Reki stammered awkwardly, shuffling on his feet. Langa smiled softly and their shoulders bumped as he stepped in. 

Reki closed the door with a sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

~ ~ ~

“Alright, what are we going to watch?” Miya asked, jumping onto the couch, quickly getting comfortable against the pillow in the corner.

“Watch? This is a party, right? We drink and play games until dawn!” Joe announced, sitting down on the couch and stretching his arms high over his head. 

“You’re an idiot,” Cherry huffed, looking around with a barely concealed look of disgust. He looked between the couch, chair, and love-seat, before deciding that he was perfectly fine standing right here thank you very much. 

“I’m an idiot? I’m just trying to make things fun around here!” Joe exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone agreed with him. 

“Did you forget how old he was? He’d get in more trouble if his mom found empty sake bodies around the house,” Shadow huffed as he took his spot next to Joe. The burly man scowled at being sat next to a clown, but he didn’t protest too much. 

“Well, there’s only so long she can ground me.” Reki chuckled before plopping down on the nearby love-seat. Langa sat down next to him, not at all bothered by how incredibly close they were.

“I’m sure she won’t be too mad, Reki,” Langa said and pat his friend on the back. 

“Well, if we can’t drink, then why exactly are we here? What are we going to do?” Joe groaned, dragging a hand down his face dramatically.

“What were you expecting? He was probably going to play spin the bottle with his new boyfriend, right Reki?” Miya teased, a shit eating grin on his little face. “Maybe swap spit and make babies?”

“Miya, do you know how–?” Joe began before Shadow smacked him in the face with a heavy pillow.

“I will not be explaining that on my night off,” Shadow grumbled with a shake of his head. Reki and Langa stifled their giggles, giving each other matching looks.

“What? What’s so funny?” Miya hissed, his face turning pink as he realized that there was something that the adults knew that he definitely wasn’t aware of.

“You’ll know when you’re older,” Cherry said with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Reki laughed even harder at that. 

“Stop it, guys! What is it? What did I say?” Miya whined, crossing his arms over his chest and just outright pouting. He had been bullied in school before, but this felt different. Sure, they were laughing, but there was no real malice behind it.

“We are not doing this tonight,” Shadow groaned, “Why can’t we just find monopoly or something?”

Reki laughed harder, leaning back against the back of the love-seat. Langa looked up and down the red-head.

“Really tickled over there, aren’t you Gearhead?” Cherry mused. 

Reki’s laughter dissolved into a coughing fit.

“Wh-what?” Reki spluttered, his face turning an even brighter shade of bright red. 

“What? Not Gearhead? Gears? Sunshine?” Cherry mused, finally sitting down, but on the arm of the couch. 

“Those are all terrible skate names. How about Mech? TechDeck?” Joe chimed in.

“Oh, and Joe is such a cool skating name?” Cherry scoffed.

“With all this going on? Keeping it simple is how the ladies don’t get too overwhelmed by my awesomeness,” Joe shot back, flexing his arms for everyone to see.

“We could call him Fire? Opposite of Snow there?” Shadow said with a wink in Langa’s direction. This was the type of teasing that he could get behind because it wasn’t some complicated nonsense that he would have to explain to a child.

“How about Red? Like his face when you said that word?” Miya said, getting up off of the couch and sauntering over to where the two teenagers were sitting. 

“Gearhead?” Langa asked, looking between Reki and the sly cat-like boy who was stalking his way over to them.

“Tickle.” Miya said plainly. Reki went an even brighter shade of red, closely resembling his own hair at the moment.

“Wh-What? I was just…thinking that Gearhead was such a stupid name that-uh…I dunno. It was ridiculous,” Reki said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“I am insulted by that, Reki. Nicknames are incredibly important on the S. You’ll need to figure something out so that you’re not in Snow’s shadow every time to you step on a board.” Cherry said. Now he was the one pouting.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that, Cherry. It was just–” Reki continued, glancing between Miya and Cherry. 

“He’s just too shy to admit that the word tickle got him all bothered like this,” Miya said smugly and jumped onto the arm of the love-seat.

“Why would something like that bother you, Reki?” Langa asked, all innocent, but Reki could swear he could see evil behind those bright blue eyes. 

“It doesn’t bother me. I think Miya is just upset that we teased him a little.” Reki insisted, feeling like he was just a piece of red juicy meat and his friends just all turned into starving lions. 

He could practically feel his skin buzzing.

“You sound really defensive, kid.” Joe said, leaning forward with a smirk on his face. “Are you that ticklish?”

“There’s only one way to find out!” Miya said and jumped forward–

Only to be stopped by Langa. Reki cowered with a squeak, pressed hard against the back of the love-seat.

“As much I would love to see Reki tickled to pieces, it’s not very fair if we all gang up against him like this, don’t you guys think so?” Langa asked, looking around. Reki sighed in relief at first before realizing what exactly the former snowboarder had said.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, shaking his head frantically.

“And how do you propose we do that, Snow?” Cherry asked, now definitely intrigued as to how exactly the blue-haired boy planned to get Reki in a puddle of giggles. 

“Without killing him of course,” Shadow added with a pointed look. Sure, he liked to cause chaos and make people laugh (especially as his clown skater persona) but five against one was a bit much. 

“Sure, we can play a regular party game.” Langa said with a shrug and turned to his friend and a pouting cat-boy. “Reki, truth or dare?”

Reki looked around and huffed.

“Truth.” He said with a small nod. No way he would say dare after all that nonsense about the damn t-word.

“Alright, where’s your most ticklish spot?” Langa asked calmly.

How the hell could Langa say shit like that without blushing?

“I don’t want to play this game. It’s rigged.” Reki grumbled. Now he was red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. After he let all of these hooligans into his house when he knew he would be grounded later… they treat him like this? Totally uncool.

“Alright, how many of us do you think you could handle tickling you? Surely you’re not that ticklish, Red.” Miya teased and stuck out his tongue.

“And what about you, Miya? You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?” Shadow asked, looking between Miya and Reki.

“You never answered the question, Reki.” Langa said with a smirk on his face. 

“Alright, fine. You guys are bullies.” Reki huffed. “I don’t have any. You all are just wasting your time. Why don’t we pop a movie or something in the–”

And just like that, Langa was on top of him. He was shoved to the very corner of the love-seat with Langa practically straddling his waist.

“You can’t lie during the game, Reki. That’s not how you play,” Langa said with a shake of his head. “Where should we test out first?”

“Langa, come on, don’t do this. I’ll teach you a new skateboarding trick if you let me go right now. Maybe even make you some of my special ramen,” Reki rambled, kicking his feet out on the couch as he scrambled to get away. Langa snatched both of Reki’s wrists and pulled them above his head.

“Miya, would you be so kind to hold onto these for me?” Langa asked sweetly. 

“With pleasure,” Miya hummed, grabbing Reki’s wrists and holding them as tight as he could. 

“I would also like to join in on the fun!” Joe said, jumping up from the couch and running over to where the others were getting ready to tear Reki apart.

“Alright, you guys have five minutes, and then you have to let him go.” Shadow said, laying down on the now empty couch and getting comfortable. He took out his phone and pulled up the timer app.

“Five minutes?” The four said in unison, though Reki was more upset with how long time seemed to pass when he was getting tickled to all hell. 

Not that it happened often, mind you, but before he had skateboarding, he had more friends and those friends definitely took advantage of how ticklish he was time and time again. 

It had really been a while since he had been tickled to pieces and a part of him was…excited? Maybe?

No, that couldn’t be right.

“Time starts now,” Shadow said as he pressed the start button.

Langa went first, poking and prodding at the exposed belly of his best friend. Reki grit his teeth, refusing to let them get the satisfaction of hearing him break right away. Maybe if he doesn’t laugh, they’ll get bored.

Was Reki sure that he wanted them to get bored?

Joe snatched up the red-head’s legs and put his ankles into an armlock.

“Trying the tough-guy act, huh, Red-Mech?” Joe asked, swiping a finger down Reki’s foot. 

Reki yelped, jerking his legs. His heart sank as he realized that he could barely move as they all held onto him.

Then came the pinches up his ribs.

“How many ribs do you think you have, Sunshine?” Langa asked as he pinched up and down Reki’s ribs. 

“I-ACK! Stop! Lahahnga! Quit!” Reki gasped, a laugh managing to escape as he pleaded for his ticklish life. 

“Was that a laugh I heard, Ticklee?” Miya asked from his perch on the arm of the love-seat.

“What’s that nickname?” Langa asked as he continued to squeeze up and down Reki’s ribs as if he weren’t completely tormenting him right now.

“Oh you know, like how you’re the tickl-er, that must mean he’s the tickl-ee, right?” Miya asked sweetly.

“Shuhuhut up!” Reki exclaimed. He didn’t know what was worse. Was it the teasing with the actual word, or the fact that Langa seemed to not care about all of this? 

And Joe decided to chime in again, but this time lightly scratching his fingernails up an down Reki’s arches. Just as Langa decided to zero in on his other weak spot too. Well, weaker. 

Now that the truth was out, they would all know that Reki was just one big walking tickle spot.

However, Langa just found that Reki’s underarms were insanely ticklish, just like the bottoms of his feet. Just as Joe had started on his arches, Langa decided to lightly scratch under his arms too, one finger under each as if he were testing the waters.

“AH! OHOHOHOHOKAY! Okay!” Reki barked, his whole body jerking and his head thrown back.

“Wow, okay what?” Langa asked teasingly, stopping his tickling as he realized the hefty reaction from his friend was because of what he and Joe had done.

“Alright, you got mehehe,” Reki said and tugged on his arms.

“You still have four minutes, Firetop,” Shadow chimed in from his spot on the couch.

“How about just one more minute, Shadow? I think we found the answers we were looking for,” Langa said smugly. Shadow nodded and changed the timer. If they were going for the death spots, it would only be fair to Reki for them to shave off a few minutes.

“You’re no fun, Snow.” Miya huffed.

“And you are definitely next, kitty,” Langa said with a pointed look at Miya. He then turned to Joe. “You ready?”

“Of course. I’m waiting for you kids to finish with whatever. ” Joe said before getting back into it.

For one full minute, Reki was in ticklish heaven hell. Langa altered between digging his thumbs into Reki’s armpits and lightly tickling around Reki’s neck and ears while Joe tickled and scratched up and down Reki’s poor defenseless feet.

When the timer ran out, Shadow snatched Miya up and tossed him playfully onto the couch. Cherry snatched Joe by the ear and pulled him away from a giggling mess of a skateboarder. Langa pulled himself off too, but Reki grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled himself closer. 

“Alright, your turn,” Shadow said as he began tickling little Miya to pieces, mainly clawing at and around the little monster’s belly button, getting him cackling in no-time.

“Now I’m in a tickle monster mood, what do you think, Cherry? Like old times?” Joe asked before diving on top of him and digging into the pink-haired man’s hips. Soon, Cherry and Miya’s laughter and giggles filled the living room as Reki curled up in Langa’s lap and watched the scene unfold. Langa ran his fingers through the red hair of his tickled out best friend.

“Thanks for inviting everyone, Langa,” Reki hummed sleepily. “But I’m definitely going to get you back for this one.”

“Alright, Sunshine,” Langa said and fluttered his fingers by Reki’s ear. The red-head squeaked and scrunched his shoulders up protectively.

[rjhpandapaws]

Canon hankcon, "birthday" for the prompt, and that's all I'm giving you lmao. Whose birthday? Party or no acknowledgement? Homemade cake with haphazard candles or storebought fancy pants cake? How many birthday kisses from Sumo? I dunno you tell me.

//:3

It wasn’t any particular news that Hank didn’t enjoy his birthday much anymore. It might have been the grief but he had a hard time remembering a time before Cole when he did. It was old news to everyone it seemed except Connor who was waiting by his desk the morning of with a box in his hands. “Connor, what is that?” He asked as he moved to sit at his desk. “It’s a birthday present Hank.” Connor set the small box on his desk, “Isn’t it a human custom to celebrate them?” Hank bit off the annoyed sigh and reminded himself that Connor didn’t know better, “Most people do. When you’re young making it another year is kind of a big deal, but when you get to my age its just a reminder of how many opportunities you’ve missed.” Connor fell onto red for a moment and Hank regretted his words, “Do you want me to take it back?” His LED flickered as he did something in that head of his. “No.” Hank shook his head, “I appreciate it Connor, it was just a surprise. I’m not used to people caring after I spent years asking them not to.” Connor narrowed his eyes as he moved to sit as his desk, “I know now, so it won’t happen again.” This time Hank sighed, “Connor, its okay, I promise.” Connor still didn’t believe him from the looks of it, and Hank hated that he was right. He knew Connor meant well, but they were dancing around an unknown something and every time Connor would do something like this it reminded Hank that the android could do so much better. When he finally climbed out of his own head Hank noticed Connor had gotten to work. His LED was yellow which meant he was thinking about something too, but Hank didn’t have the nerve to ask. He looked down at the small precisely wrapped box and what it was that Connor had decided was worth getting him.

He opened the box as quietly as he could, he didn’t want to pull Connor out of his focus, the brunette hated that. The last thing he expected was concert tickets, they were rested on top of a neatly folded t-shirt. The tickets were for a holographic performance by Frank Sinatra. He set them aside and took out the t-shirt and found it was a signed Knight of The Black Death shirt, it was from one of their older tours and had only been up for bid. He didn’t know how Connor had found it or how much he had paid for it but he knew neither of them had been cheap. “Connor.” He said firmly. Connor came back to himself and tilted his head in question, “You know birthday gifts are supposed to be simple right?” “Yes.” Connor responded, “But they are also supposed to be something you enjoy, and I figured that this would have been better than simple. Jazz is something I know you enjoy, I would have done Knights of The Black Death but they aren’t currently touring.” “So you bought two tickets to one of the best jazz clubs in Detroit and won a bit on an auction only shirt.” Hank remarked. “Yes, I figured you could take a friend with you.” Connor continued, “I figured you would have more fun that way, the shirt took a while to get, but that’s the perk of not needing sleep.” Hank bit back a groan and found himself smiling nonetheless. He didn’t deserve this kind of effort and certainly not from Connor. Not to mention that Connor had seemed to greatly over estimate the number of friends he had. Other than Connor and possibly Jeff he really didn’t know who would want join him. According to the date on the tickets he had until that evening to decide.

He tucked the tickets back into the box and did what he could to focus on his work. His mind kept tracking back to how much thought Connor had put into this, some stupid day of the year to commemorate the mistake that was his life. That Connor had found their friendship for lack of a better word worth burning a few paychecks on. It baffled him. On some level he understood that not many people viewed him in the same light he viewed himself, but the fact that Connor of all people saw him as worth this much effort never failed to knock him off kilter. The day was thankfully slow, his head wasn’t in the right place for case work as it was, he wouldn’t have been able to handle a live one. He was pulled back to attention when Connor began to pack up his things for the day. Hank still needed to talk to him about the jazz club. God, how long had it been since he had asked someone on a date? Could this really even be considered a date if Connor was the one that bought the tickets? “Your vitals say you are distressed Hank. Is there something I can do to help?” Connor was standing with his blazer over his arm, it was a charcoal grey number he had picked out to replace the branded one. “Ah no. I was just thinking too much.” He said, here went nothing he supposed, “Would you like to go with me tonight? To the jazz club?” He didn’t miss the small smile that flashed across Connor’s features before he replied, “I would love too.” Hank nodded as relief crashed over him, “Think you could be ready by eight thirty?” “Of course.” Connor agreed, “I’ll see you then Hank.” He gave a polite wave before he turned to leave. Hank was grinning at his monitor like a damn fool.

He got home with just around two hours to get ready and realized he had nothing to wear that would hold a candle to how Connor would probably wind up looking. He dressed sharply despite being a plain clothes detective so it was certain he would be dressed to the nines for this too. He dug through his closet like a damn teenager looking for something that would fit and look nice. He needed to shower as well but that could wait until after he found something to wear that would be presentable. He decided on black jeans at the very least because he couldn’t be paid to wear slacks even for a maybe date. Then it was on to looking for a shirt which took longer than he would have liked. He eventually settled for a dark teal button down that he didn’t remember ever buying but was thankful to have nonetheless. The shower came next since he did have time, and after that it was just a matter of getting himself to look presentable. He shaved figuring it was time the beard went anyway and then tied his hair back in a half ponytail to keep it out of his face. He debated his glasses for a long moment before he put them on, he technically needed them all the time but he only used them at home to give his eyes a break. Satisfied with the way he looked, he fed Sumo, grabbed his leather jacket, and headed for the car. If he was lucky he would only be a little late to pick up Connor. Hank was not in anyway ready for the way Connor was dressed. He had changed his hair to loose curls and an undercut. He was in a maroon button down under a grey suit vest with black slacks. He was absent of a tie and the first couple buttons of the shirt were undone, and he looked nervous. When he saw Hank his LED rolled yellow and blinked a few times and Hank could have sworn it was red for one of them, but just as quick as it happened it was back to blue. His smile was back in place as he walked to the car.

“You clean up nicely Hank.” Connor said with what Hank was going to take a as a friendly smile because if he looked too much into how Connor had looked at him he was going to combust, “The glasses are a nice touch.” Hank let out a dry laugh, “Only you would find not being able to see attractive.” Connor let out a sound that was distinctly inhuman but still very clearly flustered, “I didn’t- that’s not- its-” He sighed, “That’s not to say that I don’t find you attractive normally.” There was a long stretch of silence after that then Connor seemed to realize what he had said and his LED strobed red. The car was alight with his very clear distress, “Could we maybe pretend that I didn’t just say that.” Hank chuckled lightly, “Of course. It will be just like it never happened.” Of course Hank planned to keep the memory for himself. It confirmed that he hadn’t been imagining whatever this unspoken thing was between them. It was unfortunate that it seemed that for now it would stay unspoken. At least he knew glasses at the very least were the key to getting under Connor’s skin. Maybe he could wear them to the station every once in a while. “For what it’s worth Con, you clean up pretty nice as well.” Hank remarked earning another smile from Connor. “I was worried I might be over dressed.” Connor admitted, “I’ve never been to one of these places before so I wasn’t sure what the dress code was.” Hank shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot, “You look just fine, I promise. If anything, I might be a little underdressed.”

“I think you look nice.” Connor said almost under his breath. Hank didn’t know if it was meant for him to hear, but he responded anyway, “Thanks.” He doesn’t get anymore response than Connor’s index finger cutting into his line of sight, “There’s a parking space four spaces up and to the left.” Hank hummed his acknowledgement and pulled into the space once they got to it. He checked to be sure he had the tickets and then got out. Connor followed suit. They were close enough to bump shoulders as they walked to the doors and Hank couldn’t stop the smile on his lips even if he had been paid. It might not have been a date officially, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like it. There was just something in the air that made it feel that way. After they were admitted Connor took his hand and lead him to a corner table with a clear view of the stage. They were early, there was still about twenty minutes before the opening act so the good tables were almost full. Like the parking space Hank chalked it up to Connor’s keen observation, he always was a few steps ahead of Hank it seemed. “Is this alright?” Connor asked his voice was void of its usual confidence. “Its perfect Connor.” Hank reassured, “There’s nothing to be worried about.” “You seemed upset with this idea earlier.” Connor said without looking at him. He was turned in a way that Hank couldn’t see his LED, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” “Hey.” Hank said sharply which caused Connor to look at him and like Hank had suspected his LED was on red, “I was just surprised. Its been... quite a while since someone had put that much thought into a gift. I love it Connor, and if I’m honest I’m still trying to convince myself that this all is real.”

Connor’s LED flickered and Hank knew he was being scanned. Under any other circumstance he would have found it frustrating but he got the feeling Connor was just as out of his depth as Hank was. He needed to know that Hank was being honest and Hank could give him that much. He apparently found what he was looking for because he smiled. “Then I suppose its a good thing I did.” Connor said after a moment, “Someone has to remind you that you matter.” Hank let out a dry laugh, “Damn Connor, usually you buy a man a drink before you get to the sweet talking.” It was a deflection and a poor one at that if the way Connor narrowed his eyes was anything to go by, “Hank.” “Right, no self deprecating comments.” Hank grumbled, “Do they even have android friendly drinks here. I probably should have thought about that sooner.” “They do, don’t worry.” Connor informed, “But even then, tonight isn’t about me.” Hank’s response was cut off by Connor narrowing his eyes once again, “How about we order a couple of drinks before the show starts.” Connor smiled, “That sounds nice.” Hank took his jacket off and rested it on the table to mark it as taken. Connor stood as well and they headed to the bar together. They were bumping shoulders again and Hank was tempted to take his hand again, but he didn’t. When Connor had taken his hand it was so they wouldn’t get separated by the crowd had settled down for the most part in anticipation for the show. Connor stepped up to the bar to order, “Could we get an Old Fashioned and a Thirium Sunset please?”

Hank wasn’t nearly as surprised that Connor knew what he liked to drink as he was at the fact that he had ordered an alcoholic drink for himself, or at least the android equivalent. The bartender seemed surprised as well but got to work on both drinks. “I didn’t know you drank.” Hank found himself saying. “I don’t usually.” Connor admitted, “But its not very gentlemanly to let your date drink alone.” Hank blue screened at that, he was relatively certain Connor meant it as a turn of phrase but he still hung on the word. Connor was smiling, he seemed glad to catch Hank off guard. The night after that passed in a haze of good music and better and conversation. Hank still had to drive so he stopped after two drinks, but the more Connor had the closer he moved and by the end of the night Connor’s usual perception of personal space was little more than a myth. Hank found he didn’t mind. When it came time to leave Connor’s balance was off so Hank put on of his arms over his shoulder and half packed Connor out of the jazz club. Connor tried his best to walk so it wasn’t as much dragging him as he thought it would be. “You have like, really pretty eyes.” Connor said out of the blue when they were nearly to the car, “They are very expressive.” Hank laughed, “Thank you Con.” He found himself wondering if androids could suffer from hangovers but he found himself sympathetic just in case. He got Connor in the car and belted in which wasn’t all that much of a feat, it seemed the cold air had helped him recover some. He was quiet on the way home, and if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes were roaming around the car Hank would have believed him to be in stasis.

“I think I’m back to normal now.” Connor said as Hank pulled into his complex, “Sorry about that.” Hank just chuckled, “Everyone gets that way when they find a drink they like. On top of that I’m pretty sure its your first time drinking. Getting like that is basically a right of passage.” “I could have at least picked a day other than your birthday to get like this.” Connor sighed as he looked down. Hank found a place to park and reached out to ruffle Connor’s hair, “It was nice to see you let loose for once. Tonight was nice.” Connor smiled, “I’m glad then.” If Hank were to be asked about this, he planned to blame it on his drinks, even if he and Connor both knew it was a lie. It was an out both of them could take if they decided this was a mistake, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from leaning in. The kiss he gave Connor was chaste and not much more than a brush of lips. The one Connor chased it with was the exact opposite and Hank found himself breathless when Connor pulled away. “I’ll see you tomorrow Lieutenant.” He said with a wink as he got out, “Happy Birthday.” Hank watched him walk into the building still waiting for his brain to come back online. Of all the ways he expected tonight to end, this was not one of them. Happy Birthday indeed.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

[matthewtkachuk]

your voice, it calls me - jj maybank

 The one where you don't like talking on the phone, but JJ always calls you instead of texting. JJ admits that it's because he wants to hear your voice.

warnings: none for once

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1k

A/N: had a bad mental health day, so thought I would work on something a lil fluffier. prompt based on kogami OTP fluff generator. let me know what you guys think 🥺

Social anxiety is kind of a pain in the ass. It makes things like scheduling a routine doctor’s appointment or answering a simple phone call difficult. Nine times out of ten, when your phone rings you watch it ring until it falls silent. One out of those ten times the caller is JJ, and despite the tense feeling in your chest brought on by anxiety, you always answer it.

JJ’s not really a texter you’ve realized through your years of friendship. Anytime he wanted to hang out or make plans, he would call. Every time you texted him, he would never respond, instead choosing to pick up the phone and dial your number. It used to really bother you, never being someone who enjoyed talking on the phone, but as you grew to love JJ, you learned to love his phone-calling idiosyncrasies.

You’re sitting with Kie in her bedroom, seriously discussing the effect of various rising and ascendant zodiac signs on one’s personality when your phone starts to ring. Kie expects you to let it ring like you always do, having learned fairly quickly that calling you was not the right way to get a hold of you, but seeing JJ’s name flash on the phone you slide to answer it.

“Hey, J!” You cheerfully answer, shifting on Kie’s bed to cross your legs underneath you. She gives you a questioning look, but you just wave her off. Surely she knows about JJ’s affinity for calling over text.

“Hey (y/n/n) what’cha doin’?” He asks. You pick at the frayed edges of your jean shorts as he speaks, fighting the blush that threatens to break out every time JJ calls you by a nickname.

“Nothing important, just hanging out with Kie,” you answer. She playfully gasps and shoves you causing you to laugh. ‘I’m important!’ she mouths at you.

“Okay, great. Did you want to maybe want to head out on the Pogue, maybe do some fishing? John B said we could use it.”

“Sure! I’ll just ask-“

“Wait!” He quickly cuts you off, “wait I was thinking just the two of us could hang out, I miss my best friend.”

“Okay weirdo, pick me up at the dock by Kie’s?” You ask, even though you know he’ll say yes. It’s not often JJ tells you ‘no’.

“Can do, see you in a bit,” he replies, hanging up before you can reply back.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You ask Kie, realizing you two had planned to hang out the whole afternoon.

“Nah,” she smirks at you, “But that was kinda weird don’t you think? Neither you or JJ ever pick up your phones when you’re called”

“What are you talking about? JJ exclusively communicates via phone calls” You tell her, giving her a weird look.

“I have literally never spoken with JJ over the phone in all the years we’ve been friends,” she replies back, mirroring your strange look.

“That’s… really weird” You reply, but you don’t have time to think on it. JJ will be waiting for you by the docks, and the longer he waits the higher the chances he does something stupid in kook territory. “Anyway, I gotta go!” You quickly gather your stuff, shoving it in your crossbody bag and rush out of her room and house.

“We’ll talk about this later!” She calls at your retreating form, but you just hustle it to the docks.

As you predicted, he’s waiting at the docks for you. You can’t help the wide smile that breaks out on your face as you spot him. He’s shirtless, the sun reflecting off the wide plain of his sun-kissed chest. He grins back as he offers you a hand to help you onto the boat. You stand beside him as he steers the boat out onto the open water, standing in comfortable, companionable silence.

A short while later, after JJ’s found the ‘perfect fishing spot’, you’re laying on the bow of the ship in just your bikini, attempting to even out the farmer’s tan you’d accidentally gained last week when you stayed out in the sun with a t-shirt on.

“Hey J?” You call out, sitting up as he starts to reel in his catch.

“Yeah?” He asks, face full of concentration, the little frown between his eyebrows present and his tongue slightly sticking out his mouth. You gather whatever he’s caught is heavy, as his arms strain to reel it in.

“Why do you always call me? Even when I text you first?” Whatever he thinks you were going to ask, that definitely wasn’t it as he looks over at you in surprise, letting go of the reel and losing his catch. He looks back down at the water.

“Uh, I dunno I guess I just prefer talking on the phone to texting.” He answers, one hand still on the fishing rod, the other moving up to rub the back of his neck. He’s not looking at you, and you can’t help but let your earlier conversation with Kie run through your head.

“That’s not what Kie said,” you tell him quietly.

You see his Adam’s apple bop as he swallows, before admitting to you, “I dunno, I guess I just want to hear your voice.”

It’s quiet for several seconds, as you slowly get up and make your way over to him. He looks embarrassed, eyes still scanning the water rather than look into your own. You place a hand on his arm, and watch as he turns down to look at it.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I always answer?” He looks up into your eyes finally, imploring you to keep talking. “I like the sound of your voice, too.” You admit with a smile. Half a second later and he’s finally kissing you the way he’s wanted to for months now, one hand holding the back of your head, the other abandoning the fishing rod in favor of gripping your waist.

[peeterparkr]

perfidy;tom holland|7

chapter 7: the dialogue

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: the name of the game

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings:  swearing, angst, fluff, smut (oral f receiving) (skip the * if you don’t wanna read) , ROLLERCOASTER, didn’t proof read

word count: 7.8k BUT IT’S A LIGHT CHAPTER I SWEAR

here’s a playlist 

social media before you read:  tweets | instagram

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PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.

You won. That’s what you liked to think. 

One kiss wouldn’t hurt anybody. That was the only thing that had happened, a simple sweet kiss. And it had felt different, it hadn’t been barely a kiss. You’d been the one to lean over, but he’d closed the gap. And it’d felt like a summer breeze, early june, and it tasted like the remaining tea he’d just had. Bittersweet. 

Kissing never hurt anybody. But it had you thinking. 

And he’d tried to lean over again, but you’d stopped him. 

“You finish your lunch and I’ll go take some air, you have an hour to rest,” you said quickly getting off his grip. “Then I’m gonna need you back on set and—“

He chuckled. “Y/N, c’mon we’ve got time,” he assured you, as he walked over to you. 

“You can take care of that by yourself, I’m going to….” you snapped as you stood up, you rushed to your purse and took out your red lipstick, you’d always carry it around. The lipstick was your weapon, it was something that gave you certain protection. Red lipstick gave you a certain sense of being in control, and you perfectly knew you were far from controlling this situation.  

He coughed. “y/n.” 

You watched him, “Thomas.” 

“Are you angry I’m winning?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Winning? Is this a competition now?” 

“It can be,” Tom laughed. “Dunno, it reminds me of ‘don’t cry’” 

“But ‘don’t cry’ was about pissing each other off,” you pointed out. Don’t cry. A game you hadnt played for a while. It was yours and Tom’s game, if you ever dared to call such a toxic thing a game. 

“I know this whole thing pisses you off, and I love pissing you off.” 

You rolled your eyes. “And does it piss you off?” 

“Yes, it pisses me off that I can’t keep my hands to myself because of you, out of everyone, it’s Y/N.” 

You crossed your arms and smirked. “Huh, this is… Seems like I’m winning this situation? Are you crying, Holland? I’m winning this game.”  

Tom rolled his eyes. “You’re not.” 

“The way I see this, Tommy, you’re kind of begging me…”

“I’m just trying to help you out, love,  I made you forget about your ex, didn’t I?” 

He had. That’s exactly why you were trying to run away from. You weren’t down to being played. 

“I… what does that have to do with anything?” You frowned. 

“Dunno, maybe if I keep your mind thinking of me, then you’ll focus more on your job.” He walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips. He stared down at your lips and then at your eyes. He leaned over to you and kissed your neck, two times he touched your neck and only once you blinked. 

“My job?” You cleared your throat. He pushed you against the wall, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. 

“Yes, you know you’re my assistant,” he continued his path from your neck to your ear. 

“I’m a hundred per cent sure this didn’t come in the job description or did you do this with your last assistants?” You smirked. “Haz.. and Harry? Your brother? That’s so disgusting, Thomas, even coming from you.” 

He quickly pulled back from you. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Am I, really?” you grinned. This was great, you’d taken the control back of this situation. “But you know I’m right. This is unprofessional. Were you unprofessional with any of your past assistants?  

And god, you hated him. Because you wanted to kiss him again, but you wanted him to be the one to lose. Not you, definitely not you. 

“No. No,” he cleared his throat. “You’re right, unprofessional.” 

“Glad you agree,” you smirked as you finally pushed him away from you. That didn’t stop you from kissing his cheek, staining it with a plump of red lips. “You better wipe that off before you come back to set,” you warned him. “I’m sorry you lost this one.” 

“You’re wrong about that, darling, I always win.” 

But he pulled you back to him, lips firmly pressed against your mouth, you felt your whole body initially tense up but then relax as you let your head fall into his bliss.  It didn’t go any further than that, only kissing. And it had been… different. The way he’d held your head, and the way his fingers travelled down your arm. His lips so soft, and the way he’d smiled after it. 

“And I’ll keep on winning. Don’t cry, y/n.” 

After that, you ignored the professionalism you had prided yourself you’d had, but one can only ignore something as sweet and pretend it didn’t happen for so long. 

You didn’t want to waste any more kissing because honestly, he was driving you crazy. It was just a little perspective. 

Cruising through the set, changing his schedules and trying to find places where nobody could see you. And so a game started, a game which was so thriving to play. Risky, but fun. So fun. The next few days had consisted of brushing, pinning and teasing. Fingers walking down his shoulders when he was on makeup, helping him adjust his clothes if he was nearby. Him, placing his hand on your waist as he was walking past you, and moving it just slightly down, licking lips and whispering in his ear. At very inconvenient times, like before he was just going to shoot a scene, you’d walk over and go: ‘Your zip is down, don’t cry.’ and zip it up, or when he’d brush against you, or walk his fingers up your thighs. 

Don’t cry, the game of your nightmares. A very toxic game which consisted of Tom and you getting on each other's nerves, pulling each other’s hair, saying something mean but ending it with “Don’t cry.” Which basically meant: “I don’t mean this, but if you cry you’ll have to do whatever I tell you.” 

Those dares included eating mustard which you hated, getting into the shower fully clothed, drinking a salty glass of milk, or whatever you came up with. Eventually you stopped playing so you wondered where this particular game would go. 

You guessed it was embarrassing enough teasing each other and trying to remain calm. It’d, so far, only gotten both of you to make out in his trailer. Twice. You didn’t even know why that had happened. How it had let there with him pushing you against the wall and slipping his tongue in. 

But you continued that game where you both pretended to hate each other, but it seemed different this time. Less real, at least. More… flirty, if you could think of it. But more firstly. 

But Tom was getting on your nerves, because he’d up the game, and he’d find ways to sneak a kiss. ‘Don’t cry’.  He’d try to be careful, nobody could know about this. But he’d sneak a kiss if he could, like when you were on your way to the makeup trailer, or when you were picking up your lunch. And you couldn’t react to it, or else you’d lose. 

But he’d get particularly more… teasing, especially when you were around Timothée. That was hard. Because you couldn’t react in any way, you were not supposed to be aware. 

And it kept going. 

Two weeks had gone by. And the game had only stepped up. 

Harry would be leaving in two days, and you hadn’t seen him. Your mind had barely thought about your last conversation with him, was he really going to propose? But you knew you had to be careful around whatever you said because you didn’t want to hurt him. 

The thought was roaming your mind when you were having lunch with Timothée, talking about life and other stuff, the props, the cameras. But Tom had decided to sit right beside him and not so subtly decided to play footsie. Very stupid, really. 

“Hey, y/n dear, oh, hello, Timmo...y/n dear, I need help with some crying.Will you help me out later?” 

You coughed. 

Timothée would usually only stare at him. You knew he was probably jealous, Tim had always been very reluctant when it came to Tom. You didn’t blame him. You couldn’t blame him. Less now. 

“Some crying?” Tim asked. 

“For the scene, lover boy,” Tom chuckled. “And you might be aware of this but your… girl…. Your friend here really hates me.” 

“And I can make you cry?” You questioned. “How lovely, would love to see you cry,” you answered as you kicked him. 

Tom cleared his throat. 

Timmy frowned but chuckled. “I will never understand how you guys hate each other that much,” he mentioned with poison. “I mean, you grew up together, you must have some good memories.” 

“You’re answering your own question, we know each other so well that we hate each other, you would too if you’d grown up with her,” Tom laughed. 

“Yeah, you’d need a lifetime to hate me, but somehow you only need five seconds to hate Tom,” you snapped back. 

Tim grinned as he let out a poisonous laugh. 

“Hm, you agree?” Tom raised his brows at Tim. 

Tim chuckled. “I’m sorry, I was dating her so I naturally had to hate you, that’s how couples work, if one hates someone the other one should, too.” 

Tom grinned. “Right., but you’re not dating anymore, why should you hate me, now?” 

Tim didn’t say anything, and you just glared at Tom. 

“Anyway I should go back to my friends, shouldn’t I?” Tom chuckled as he then proceeded to walk over to the other members of the cast. 

You watched him walk away. You rolled your eyes, and looked at Tim. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Tim chuckled. “It’s fine, really, but I’m not telling him the reasons I hate him for now,” Tim admitted. 

“You’ve got new reasons?” 

“In a way, yes,” Tim shrugged. “But can’t really be mad at him, I mean thanks to him I get to hang out with you again,” he admitted. “And I get to see your smile, even if I’m not the reason for it right now.” 

You felt a stab into your heart. “You still make me smile, Timmy.” 

He smiled, slightly. “I know, but it’s not my job anymore,” he shrugged. “There’s a vacancy for that job though, can I apply again?” 

You grinned, chuckling slightly. “There’s no vacancy open right now, I’m afraid” 

Timothée scoffed as he clenched his jaw. “Tom already filled it up?” 

“No, no, remember he's the CEO of being my mortal enemy,” you cleared your throat. 

He stayed quiet as he watched you, then dedicated a glance towards Tom who was not so subtly staring at you. 

“He’s in love with you, y/n,” Tim said. 

You rolled your eyes. “If he was, everything would be easier, he’d be nice.” 

He shrugged. “I’m not blaming him, y/n, but I see it, you know? It’s easy to know when somebody else is in love with the girl you love, it’s in the eyes.” 

“The eyes chico, they never lie,” you quoted making him grin. “And his eyes… only have hatred. So you’re wrong about Tom, don’t worry there’s only hate there. Now, I need to get that idiot back where he’s supposed to be, I swear he never knows anything.” You stood up as you picked up your stuff. 

“What about Harry?” Timothée asked. “Was I wrong about him too? 

You only glanced at Timothée, and then walked away. 

-

“So tomorrow’s Harry’s goodbye congratulations party dinner thing,” Tom mentioned as you were handing him a bottle of water as they’d paused a scene. 

“I’m aware,” you answered coldly. 

“Are you gonna bring anything?” He asked, watching you. 

“Dunno,” you shrugged as you called the makeup artist so they could retouch him, while you helped him button up his shirt again. 

“Y/N,” Tom sighed, as the makeup artist was brushing him up. 

“What?” You frowned.

“You’ve ignored me all day long,” he complained. You had, as a matter of fact. You couldn’t stand him, even when he’d tried to keep up with the game. You hadn’t shown any type of response, you hadn’t talked to him if you didn’t need to. You didn’t smile, you didn’t even look at him. 

“Get back to the scene,” you told him as you walked away. 

Eventually, the director gave up for that day and said they’d continue in two days, something wasn’t going well with the scene, they kept pausing and pausing. Tom would forget his lines, or he wouldn’t give in the emotion, something was off, you could tell. The chemistry with the actress or whatever, it was off. Everybody could tell. 

“What’s up? You’re really messing up,” you told him as he approached you. “Maybe you need to rest, you have all day tomorrow to rest.” You’d finally have a free day, a well deserved free day. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I just… Have my mind elsewhere, alright?” 

“Where?” You asked as you were walking away from him, already pulling out your earphones, not wanting to listen to him as you were walking to your car. You finally had it back.

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. “I.. maybe help me run the lines, tonight, I… I need to see how this goes.” 

You turned to him. “You were a real asshole today,” you mentioned. 

“What?” Tom blinked. 

“You don’t get to joke about my last relationship, alright? You crossed the line,” you snapped, you had to get it off your chest. “And you can’t joke about it in front of Tim and I, it’s not your place.” 

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” 

You plugged your earphones in. Tom stopped you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know and I was not trying to… make fun…”Tom trailed off. 

You crossed your arms. “What were you trying then?”

“I dunno, let him understand that you’re not dating, he sometimes act as if you were—“

“Habits that didn’t wear out,” you shrugged. “Besides that’s not your business, Tom.” 

Tom gulped. “are you trying to get back with him?”

“Why do you care?” You sighed. 

“Are you? ” Tom asked. 

“No, I’m not,” you looked away. “And he knows that, we are friends, alright?”

“He knows?” 

“Yes, we are not trying to get back together, I…” You took a deep breath. Less now, of course, that you were trying to do whatever you were trying to do with Tom, and playing whatever game with him. Of course you didn’t want to get back to Timothée, or maybe you did, but you couldn’t play with him right now. You couldn’t play with his heart, especially because Tim was more aware of your feelings than even yourself. “He knows me too well,” you said out loud. “But that’s not the point, you shouldn’t have said that.” 

Tom shrugged. “He said he hated me.” 

“Well, who wouldn’t? With that damned attitude you’ve been pulling, and flirting in front of him, god Tom, you’re so full of yourself, I can’t believe this,” You snapped. “I… I can’t stand you, of course he would hate you. And why do you even care if he hates you?” 

Tom looked away. “Don’t know. Because.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why did you tell him that?” 

“Because you’re not dating anymore, I just pointed out he’s allowed to hate me for other reasons. Like a reason should be I keep making out with his ex,” Tom growled. 

“Ah, piss off, Tom, you’re… You won, okay?” you frowned, as you walked away, finally reaching your car.  

“No, no, wait,” Tom sighed as he ran after you. “Y/N…Please.”

“What?”

“You’re coming tomorrow, right?” 

“Yes, because of Harry,” You cleared your throat, and then took a deep breath. You couldn’t keep fighting with Tom, even if it hurt you, even if right now all you wanted to do was kick him, you had to write a script. “I...was gonna bake him cookies.”

“What?”

“For Harry. My way of saying goodbye. I think it’s literally my only talent, and I know Harry likes cookies.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, or do you want me to bring in anything else?” You asked. 

“No, no, no, just… come, it’d kill Harry if you don’t,” he commented. 

You opened the door to your car. 

“And it’d bum me more if I knew it was my fault,” he added as you turned around. 

“Look… I…” You really hated yourself more than him for what you were going to do next. “I was gonna open a wine bottle and bake the cookies.” 

Tom chuckled. “Hm, is that an invitation?” 

“No, you know what? Never mind,” you rolled your eyes as you hopped into the car. He stopped you from closing the door. 

“What if I make it up to you?” He suggested. 

“Hm?” 

“What if I cook something for you and we open a bottle of wine and bake the cookies?” He cleared his throat. 

It was time for you to chuckle. “See you in hell, Tom.” 

”Oh, is that a date? Are you asking me out?” He smirked. 

You rolled your eyes. 

He grinned. “C’mon we need to relax a little, and we haven’t really bonded, and we could go over the lines,” he insisted. 

You clicked your tongue. “I would say we’ve bonded a little bit more than required,” you rolled your eyes. “And I don’t want to bond that way.” 

He laughed. “Oh c’mon you know what I mean.” 

“Heard the cast was going to hang out, why don’t you tag along with them?”

“I wanna hang out with you, y/n, besides you were the first to hint at it,” he grinned. “C’mon, I’ll cook something nice.” 

You looked him in his chocolate eyes, you really wanted to say no. All you wanted to do that night was cry until you fell asleep after you ate a whole pint of ice cream or ordered a cheesy pizza. That was what you wanted to do, because Timothée had opened up a wound that you hadn’t touched in a while, and because you knew this was wrong, completely wrong. You shouldn’t be caring about this, you shouldn’t let Tom play you this way. 

“I… sure, fine.” 

“Okay, so I’ll… buy the ingredients and I’ll see you at your place?” He asked. 

“Alright.”

-

Tom had finished setting up for whatever he was going to cook. You were currently opening the bottle of the first wine bottle, pouring each a glass. You handed him his own glass and he grinned before clicking them together. 

“I love your apartment,” he pointed out. “We could film here, it’s got the total aesthetic, 80’s like apartment with flowers and vinyls and…You really got it all, don’t you?” 

“Really? I… Don’t know.” 

“It’s pretty and clean,” he chuckled. “So… tonight uh, we’re having pasta with chicken, because as long as I recall, you were a fan of it when we were children,” he announced. 

You sipped from your wine as you were pulling out the ingredients for the cookies. “Ah yes, big fan,” you chuckled. “Just don’t make a mess… So, I’m going to…” You took out your speakers as you were scrolling through a decent playlist to which he wouldn’t complain. 

“Wait, mind if we listen to my music?” He asked. 

You stared at him. “I—okay.” 

“Don’t worry I made a playlist thinking of you, all old music, rolling stones kind of thing, and Harry Styles because for a reason I know you’re obsessed with him” he pointed out as he connected his phone. 

You blinked, watching him as he started to play the first song. ‘Start Me Up’, a classic by The Rolling Stones. 

You grinned, “Thanks.” You danced slightly listening to it. “That’s abnormally nice coming from you.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Dunno, it seems nicer than usual,” you chuckled.

“I’ll punch you in the face if that’s what you want,” he joked as he dedicated a smirk to you. 

You laughed, and you knew this was risky. Whenever Tom was pulling this kind of stuff it meant risk, and it meant trouble and it meant he was probably trying to hurt you. But you couldn’t help but dance and laugh with him, you even were leaning against him at some point, he’d given you some of the sauce to try and you’d given him cookie dough. 

It was fun, and it was nice, even. You were joking around stupid things about your childhood, and then talking about silly stuff on set or barely anything. Maybe it was the wine but you hadn’t fought about anything. Or not… in a real way, you’d thrown some flour at him playfully, and he’d nudged you. At some point he’d accidentally spilled wine on his t-shirt and he found it as an excuse to stay shirtless. Of course you’d offered him a t-shirt but he’d said he didn’t want to wear a t-shirt that had probably belonged to Timothée. Honestly you hadn’t complained. 

And the second bottle of wine was opened just before you’d placed the cookies in the oven. 

“I know for a fact, that your favorite movie is probably Pulp Fiction or something any other film a film student would say,” Tom said as he was plating the pasta. 

“It’s not.” You laughed. 

“What is it? The Godfather? Fight club?” 

“No.” 

“What?” He seemed in such a state of shock as he stared at you. “Oh okay… 80’s more type of movies right?” 

You scrunch your nose, as you set the table. “Well.” 

“The breakfast club?”

“No, it’s actually Princess Diaries 2,” you corrected him as you sipped your wine, you could tell you were happier. 

“Wait, what?” He chuckled. “I do remember you were obsessed with that movie but—wouldn’t expect it to be your favourite.” 

“It’s amazing!” You declared. “It’s got Anne Hathaway, Julie Andrews. References to Pretty Woman… it’s perfect! And it’s got Chris Pine, and I mean… The whole enemies to lovers trope.” 

“Enemies to lovers huh,” he laughed. “But what about the cinematography? I thought you were pretentious.” 

You frowned. “Pretentious?” 

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, I dunno. I once heard you drunkenly rant about Birdman for 30 minutes,” he pointed out. 

“Oh who wouldn't.” 

“I just…” He laughed as he sat across you. “Well, enjoy, I hope I’m not that bad of a cook.” 

“Cheers, then, to hating each other,” you laughed as you raised your glass. 

“To being enemies,” he added before he clicked the glasses together. 

You both started eating and you actually did compliment him on his cooking. He wasn’t a chef but it was nice. At some point, cliche enough, you’d both reach for the cheese, brushing each others hand.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing that we’ve known each other for so long yet we are strangers?” You asked as you tilted your glass just slightly. 

“We are not strangers,” he frowned. 

“What’s my favourite color?” You questioned. 

“I actually know this one,” he snickered. “Uh… it was whatever colour the sky is, either sunset orange, or breakdown pink… that lilac dawn,” he listed. 

You blinked. “I… well.”

“Am I wrong?”He smirked as you watched him. “You’ve always been so poetic, y/n. So it’s that... the colour of the sky and... yellow in flowers, they make you happy.” He cleared his throat. 

You looked away. “Used to make me happy, now they’re just…. But um,” you sipped your wine instead. “Well, yours is blue, but black for clothes.” 

“I’m simple.” 

Honestly, you didn’t understand what was going on, it seemed irrational, and the whole night didn’t make any sense, talking about nonsense, movies, random things. But then, you were laughing on your couch just after taking out the cookies from the oven. You’d ate a few of the cookies as you had your legs on top of him. 

“Alright, but that scene in Risky Business,” you laughed, drunkenly. “Like, it’s one of the best things that ever happened.” 

“You're only saying that because you have a crush on Tom Cruise,” he laughed, as he searched for his phone. “Let’s watch it.”

He searched it up on YouTube and you leaned against his shoulder to watch it. You mouthed and moved your shoulders to the song. 

“I should try and recreate it,” he pointed out. 

You both stayed quiet but then actually looked at each other. A smirk appeared on both of you. 

 “Do you have… do you hic, have like an old shirt? One of yours, the big ones you like to use?” He asked. 

You rushed to your room as you searched for an old big dress shirt that could fit him, and then gave it to him. “We’re doing this.” 

And without further ado, he stripped into his boxers and somehow managed to put on your shirt. He laughed. 

“I need more wine before I do this, I look ridiculous,” he admitted as he downed his glass. “Alright, what’s… what’s the song?” 

“Old Time Rock and Roll, Bob Seger,” you told him as you searched for it, giggling. 

“Tom laughed. “Wait wait, okay,” he couldn’t stop laughing. “But you’re doing this after me.” 

“No,” you laughed. “Now, go on.” 

“We need… we need to record this,” he picked up his phone, as he pointed the camera at you. “Y/N here dared me to-” 

“I didn’t dare you,” you laughed. “You wanted to do this on your own.” 

“Fine, alright,” he laughed. “Um.. we will try and recreate-” 

“We?” You interrupted. 

“Sh, y/n shh… I’m… I’m gonna try and recreate the Risky Business scene,” he continued. “Now, okay, I’m going to…” He laughed to himself. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, alright, alright I’m going to...Play the music, darling, will you?” 

And the first notes hit in, and he rushed as he tried to slide in, failing as he only slid his way down to the floor, face falling flat. You couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, as Tom groaned on the floor. The song kept playing. 

“Are you…” You couldn’t stop your laughter. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” he sat up. “Alright, yes, yes I’m okay, man I shouldn’t be doing this… If I get hurt and I’m not able to film…” 

You giggled. “C’mon, you’ll be fine.” 

“Alright… You’re still recording?” 

“Of course.” 

He chuckled. “Your floor is too slippery…” he stood up and then sighed. “Attempt number two.”

“Okay….” You tried to hold your giggles as you replayed the song. And he slid again but now he slid too far and couldn’t stop. “You suck, Holland.” 

“Shut up, y/l/n,” he chuckled. “No wait, I think… I know how to do it.” 

“Another one?” You frowned. 

“Yes, yes,” he laughed. “Man, your shirt feels tight,” he mentioned as he then proceeded to get back. “Okay, okay, I’m ready… wait I need… this,” he picked up a long and thin flower pot. “The mic.” 

You grinned. “Good, now…” you laughed as you replayed the song. 

But he finally slid like he was supposed to, and when the note hit he started to dance, you laughed throwing your head back as he tried to do his best impression of Tom Cruise. 

He smirked as he danced his way towards you, moving his hips and over exaggerating his movements, you rolled your eyes as you watched him, still recording him. He jumped to his spot right beside you, laying his head on you, the way he looked into you made your stomach stagger you with butterflies. You had to ignore this, this was only the wine. 

“So?” You swore he was about to kiss you, as he was leaning over, you pushed his face away. 

“I could do it better,” you claimed and he laughed. 

“No you couldn’t.” He frowned. 

“Yes, give me my shirt back,” you demanded as you tipsily stood up. 

He grinned, “that’s a weird way to ask for a strip tease,” he sassed. 

You rolled your eyes. “Put your shirt back on and give me my clothes I’m going to…” you couldn’t stop giggling as he had already stripped down and pulled you back To the couch, you pushed him away . “Thomas, put your pants back on, never mind I’ll go get another one.” 

He chuckled. “Why? Don’t cry, y/n.” 

“I am going to recreate that scene in risky business too, I can do it better…” you said as you downed your glass before rushing for a mother dress shirt. 

“Y/n, love you’re too drunk, you can’t handle your wine,” he joked, already back with your shirt on, but then cleared his throat as he watched you take off your clothes, and button up your dress shirt. “I’ll stop complaining.” 

“Sh, start playing the music,” you stumbled a little bit. 

“Y/n.” His drunken giggles were music to your ears. 

You laughed. “Wait, sh, you had your turn, now it’s mine alright? I need to… get in the mood.” 

“The mood?

“Tom Cruise mood, k?” You stretched as you tried to slide, practicing, almost falling down. 

“Y/N be careful,” he warned. 

“Play the music!” You ordered as you slid down but went too far. You stumbled down again, cackling up. 

He laughed, “wait wait wait, no no,” he walked over, helping you up. “Okay, no, you’re worse than me,” he placed his hands on your hips. “Look, you’ve got to push this hip—“

“You literally just failed before me,” you complained. But he placed a kiss behind your ear. 

“Sh, I’m trying to show you,” he whispered. “So you’re gonna move the hip forward and up,”he motioned as he moved your hip. “and then slide, okay?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Can I do it now?”

“Can you, love?” He mocked. 

And then you were sliding, again and again, failing until you finally got it right and danced along. To that old song, the piano notes going over and over. 

But then somehow, you were both sliding together, dancing to the song. And Tom came up with a brilliant idea, to slide together while holding each other. 

Of course, when you’re drunk a lot of things look like a great idea. The execution, of course, wasn’t ideal. 

But you did it anyway, and you fell flat to the floor, both of you, Tom on top of you. Giggling to each other of course, as the music continued and then the pain started, your ankle. 

“Are you—are you okay?” He asked between snickers. 

You chuckled. “I… I think I hurt my ankle.” 

“Really?” He looked worried as he was staring deep into your eyes. 

But you couldn’t keep your laughter. “Yes.” 

“Why are you laughing then?” He joined you as he chuckled. 

“I—I don’t know.” 

He snickered as he gradually stopped laughing, both of you running out of breath, but he really stared at you,  pushing your hair back from your face, digging his chocolate eyes into yours, as he slowly switched between your eyes and your lips. 

You were waiting for him to make a move, as you twitched your lips. He brushed his lips slightly against you just as you felt your chest tightening, everything seemed so slow. And he finally caught your lips with a hard and soft kiss, it was weird, as if his lips were kissing a petal flower but were so hungry for it. And he backed away but then kissed you more and more. Peppering with small kisses as if he knew this was wrong and he had to let go but he couldn’t get enough. 

“Tom,” you said between kisses. 

“Hm?” 

“I really hate to ruin this but my ankle seriously hurts,” you admitted. 

He sighed before giving you one last kiss, chuckling into it. “Leave it only to you, y/n,” he said. “Cmon lets get you some ice.” 

Before you even knew it he had picked you up from the ground, making you squeal; and carried you to your bedroom. He kissed you after plopping you on the bed before leaving for the kitchen. 

You hugged your pillow. Where was this going? And why didn’t you mind? 

He brought a bag full of ice but then didn’t give it to you. He stopped at your door frame and looked around at your room, it was simple. Some vinyls on the wall, and lots of cut out movie posters, and Polaroids. Many Polaroids, some even with Tom in them.“I think I’ve honestly never been here,” he pointed out before sitting on the bed beside you. He’d brought two beers. 

“You still have a lot of pictures of Timmo hanging around,”he pointed out as he finally gave you the bag of ice and the opened beer. 

“I—well,” you shrugged. “He’s important to me.” 

“He’s the only ex boyfriend hanging around,” he sassed. “Is there ever going to be another one as important that you don’t take him off the wall?” 

“I’m not ever gonna have a boyfriend again, I lost the perfect guy,”you sipped your beer. “I’m probably gonna die an old maid.”

Tom chuckled. “That’s not true, you’re a witch, remember?” He shuffled to get closer to you, both of you leaning against the wall. “You’re immortal, don’t worry, you won’t die, you’ll stay single, but you won’t die.” 

You stared at the wall. “Mm, oh to be a witch in the woods not bothered by men.” 

He giggled. “that’s a dream.” 

“Yeah, and I’m getting close to it, by not having any boyfriend.” 

“I could be your boyfriend,” he stared at you.

You burst out in laughter, but your head landed on his shoulder. “Ha, sure.” 

“Did you laugh?”

“Yes, you’re joking, people usually laugh at jokes,” you nudged him. “You’re funny.”

He faked his pride. “Am I undatable?”

“Very. And may I remind you that we despise each other?” You recalled as you chuckled. You were drunk, very, very drunk. 

“Ah, minor details,” he laughed as he lifted your chin, “Wait am I really undatable?” 

“Yes.” 

“Or is it only our history?” He questioned. 

You pushed him away and shrugged. “You’re undatable and we have way too much history,” you stretched. 

He shifted to sit in front of you. “Okay, let’s put it this way, imagine if someone set us up... we don’t know each other  and I showed up at your door.” 

You wrinkled your nose. “Uh-huh, yeah, no, hard pass.” 

He frowned. “Really? Am I not boyfriend material?”

“No.” 

“What material am I then?” He laughed. 

“Punching bag material.” 

He rolled his eyes. “But no, okay okay, really, picture it.” 

You scoffed. “Oh, cmon Tom.” 

“I’d show up at your door with yellow flowers,” he trailed off. 

You looked away. “Yellow flowers.” 

“Yes, and I’d take you-“

“To a fancy restaurant? Hard pass.” 

He licked his lips. “You haven’t even let me finish.” 

“But I know you.” 

He shuffled closer. “No, I’d probably take you to a train ride.” 

“A train ride?”

“Ya, all that sceneric shit you like.” He was playing with your hand. 

“But wasn’t this a blind date? How would you know I like that?”

“You think I wouldn’t ask about you? And please I would’ve stalked your Instagram,” he pointed out. 

“And you’d still showed up? Hmm I had stalked your Instagram I would’ve passed.” 

“Really?” He looked hurt. 

You smiled at him. “No.”

He blushed but then cleared his throat. “but then for our second date…”

“Oh, we are having a second date?” 

“Of course.” 

“But we were meant to hate each other,” you laughed. 

“Yes, true but you don’t show your true self on the first date so we wouldn’t fight until the third or fourth,” he commented as he was now walking his fingers up your arm. 

He shifted back next to you, and your head landed back on his shoulder as you played with his hands. “So where would you take me on the second date?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Stargazing.” 

You shook your head. “Hmm no, that’s more of a third date kind of thing.” 

“Hmm museum then? Yes... And we’d probably make out there.”

You laughed. “Why is that?” 

He chuckled,sipping his beer. “I’m 78% sure art turns you on.” 

You laughed. “That’s oddly specific”

“Yes, I need to confirm it but I have evidence to support that,” he laughed. 

“What’s that evidence?”

He smirked. “I turn you on and I’m art,” he lifted your chin and brushed your lips with his thumb. 

You glared at him. “You don’t turn me on.”

“Sh, we are planning our dates here,” he pecked your lips. “So third date?”

“The stargazing thing and that would be my idea… Maybe a picnic in the dark, we could fly a kite at sunset.”  

“Fly a kite?” He frowned. 

“Yes, that’s so romantic,” you laughed. 

“As long as I recall last time we did fly a kite I was the opposite of romantic,” he scoffed. 

“You ripped my kite.” 

“It was an accident.” 

You chuckled. “You were an accident.” 

“Maybe the kite flying would make us realize that we hate each other,” he sighed.

“Too bad, we won’t get to the stargazing,” you mentioned.

“Who knows maybe we do, we start fighting and we keep fighting that the sun fades out and before we know it we’re fighting under the stars,” he chanted. 

“Aren’t you romantic,” you rolled your eyes. 

He turned to you.  “Why do you hate me?”

“Hm?”

“I—I don’t understand why we hate each other,” he whispered. 

You looked at him. “Because I’m always waiting for the next time you’re going to hurt me.”

“What?”

“I… look at this dynamic alright? It’s not like we haven’t had this before,” you started, as you turned to him. “This whole… thing.”

He stayed quiet. 

“Think about it, we’ve been alone like this and everything goes… decent, whatever that means. And we’ve…” you cleared your throat. “And… I simply wait for you to give me the cold shoulder again, and then… just wait for you to find a way to break my heart again.” 

He didn’t say anything. 

“And it’ll be like my teenage years again,” you didn’t know why you were telling him this. 

“What about—?”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I was in love with you.”

He sipped his beer. “Terrible decision.” 

“Ha, yeah. But hey. I was inexperienced, didn’t know better, and you simply…” you trailed off. “I mean I didn’t like you when we were children… but you were the… you were the first person I ever fell in love with…”

Tom frowned. “Really?”

You closed your eyes. “God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. It’s like I’m giving you the weapons to hurt me, and then telling you where exactly to wound.” 

“I won’t…”

“But… I guess you made me hate you. I didn’t want to hate you. All those years growing up, I was annoyed by you, you were this… kid with lots of energy and with barely any boundaries and then… it didn’t bother me you know? Little did I know it was tearing me apart. And then… you broke my heart, and you knew you were breaking it, and I’m not talking about when we were kids, I’m…it’s stupid okay, but you knew it didn’t you?” 

Tom took your hand in his. “I—“

“So that’s why I hate you,” you admitted. “Because you know all my weaknesses and you use them against me.” You gulped. “So the real question here is, why do you hate me?”

He kissed your hand. “It’s complicated. I don’t hate you, but I do, I hate you because I know I should.”

“That doesn’t make any sense—“

He kissed you, a slow but warm kiss, you closed your eyes instantly.. You could taste the beer on his lips, his fingers were running up from your hips to your stomach, as he so delicately peppered your face with kisses, soft and slowly. You didn’t want an answer, anymore. You guessed this was his answer. 

Your own hands were busy unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing. 

*

Your hands found his stomach and travelled up to his chest. His lips rattled down to your neck, as his hands went up to your breasts, cupping them gently. You kissed his jawline as he pulled back slightly, you opened your eyes, as he was running his hands up your thighs, making you shiver. 

And the clothes were a burden, even if you were barely wearing anything for now, the dress shirts were bothering both of you. You let him take it off of you, as his lips landed on your stomach and slowly placed gentle kisses, trailing up and down. Down to the edge of your hips, and up to your collarbones as if he was trying to map out your body, with his hands delicately pushing against your thighs. His warm breath made you squirm again and he only looked up with a grin. 

His fingers teased the edge of your underwear, pressing his lips on top of it. He looked up at you, caramel eyes filled with lust… but sweetness. He traveled down to your inner thighs, brushing his lips against them, his warm breath making your core shiver. 

“I hate you,” you moaned, making him chuckle as he only made your core tremble. 

“don’t cry y/n,” he said before placing a kiss to the fabric covering your sex, already soaking wet. You let out a moan, throwing your head back. He slipped his fingers past the fabric and pressed the core just lightly. 

“Tom,” you shut your eyes closed. 

He ripped down  the lacy underwear next throwing it across the room, and only chuckled against you, you tried to grip into the blanket as he opened up your legs more. 

“You’re gonna hate me more, but you already ate something I cooked,” he assured before he ran his fingers up through your folds.

“Thomas,” you whined in protest. 

He chuckled before leaving a soft trail of kisses on your heat but avoiding where you needed him the most.

You tried to close your legs trying to get any type of pressure, but he kept them open.  He licked his lips before finally placing a soft kiss to your clit, you let out a moan. 

“T-Tom,” you could barely say it as he continued to lick around the sensitive nub in slow motion, as his fingers were slipping in through your folds. You ran out of breath as he curled up his fingers inside you. 

Your stomach tightened with pleasure as you continued to moan his name out loud. 

Your hand went down to tug his hair, and you swore you could feel his smirk against your heat. But he continued, up and down, in circles. In and out. And you were close and he knew it, so he went in faster and harder. 

“Come for me, darling,” he ordered and his name fell out of your mouth again in breathless gasps, as you came all over him. 

You had to catch your breath as you came down from your high. 

 But he climbed back up with sloppy kisses. And you cupped his face, running your fingers down his hair and crushing your lips against his. 

You pushed him back, sitting up so you’d finally be able to push back his shirt, and finally wrapping your legs around him. His hands clumsily ran behind your back as you kissed and sucked on his neck biting slightly, his hands finally managed to unhook your bra as you pulled back, you cupped his face again, staring into him. 

His sloppy kisses found a sweet spot on your neck his hands went down to knead your ass, and he moved your hips, rocking into you. Your finger traced down his toned muscles as you felt you were running out of breath, as you slipped your hands into his underwear cupping his hard length. You caressed it but he pushed you back into the bed, pushing your head against your pillow as he grinned and squirmed. His hands wrapping your waist as you helped him pull down his own underwear, his cock hitting his stomach. 

“I need to be in you, y/n,” he admitted as he positioned himself in between your legs, rubbing the tip against your folds. You reached for your drawer this time, knowing damn well you had some spare condoms from when you were dating Tim. You wrapped the condom around him, and he teased you again. 

He didn’t even warn you before in a single rough movement, he thrusted into you, he squeezed his eyes shut as his body curved into you. You were still recovering from your own high as he started pulling in and out, you rocked your hips against him, helping you get your own friction as he thrusted in slowly and steadily but roughly. Your nails dug into his skin, as your lips found a sweet spot on his neck. Sweat dropped down his face as he connected his lips back to yours. 

He bucked his hips to meet yours as he was moaning your name. You didn’t know how long it took him but you were so invested in his lips, as he arched his back, quickening up his movements to reach his own high. Your hands exploring down his body, and kneading his ass, the friction against your core building up your second orgasm,reaching your high even with more pleasure.. Before you knew it he had yelled out your name and squirmed his high, filling you up as you . 

*

He pulled out but kept kissing your neck, not even needing to catch his breath, as his hands walked down your body. 

But his lips landed back on yours and then he stared at you. You were panting as you pushed his hair back. 

You wouldn’t have been ready for what he asked you next even if they’d warn you. 

And you… feared it again. 

Because he was poisonous. No. He was like that song that you fell in love with and you loved listening to it, over and over, until it eventually bothered you because it was overplayed. It got old. But one day, without you noticing, it played on the radio and you realized that you were falling in love with it all over again.

“What are we, y/n?” He asked as he nuzzled against your neck, placing soft kisses against it. You reached out for the blanket to cover both of you. 

“Mmh?”

He cleared his throat. “I mean… this whole thing we’ve got going on?”

“Don’t know, didn’t expect to end here.” 

He gulped. “Neither did I”

You say up just slightly and turned to him. “But does this need a name? Can’t we just… not”

“Cmon, it’s not that complicated, I just need to know what you think we are, so we are both on the same page,” he reached out to push your hair back. 

“Why would you need that?”

He shrugged. “So I know where my boundaries are, what’s the name of this game?”

You bit your lip. “I’d say we are...Enemies with benefits.”

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[sweatpeeee]

Love potion AU

Part 1

Peter Parker x Reader

Words: 2k

Summary: Peter Parker, infatuated with an uninterested MJ, creates a liquid potion to have her fall in love with him, but what if the wrong person drinks it???

Warnings: lowkey angst, Peter is a desperate fool, Ned is a supportive friend and MJ is an absolute queen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Pete-” You blush, books clutched between your arms. 

“Hey.” You notice Peter glancing behind you constantly, barely acknowledging your greeting. A forced thin tight smile replaces your shy smile, but soon recovers when you see Ned beside you, you give him a grin, readjusting your backpack strap, 

“Hey Ned, new hat?” You chuckle lightly at the boy with a red fedora sitting on top of his hair. 

“Why Hello, m’Lady, and yes- I do have a new hat in the collection.” He beamed, you laugh at his response, 

“Well it looks great on you-” 

“Hey, have you guys seen MJ? I haven’t seen her enter the school yet-” Peter interrupted your conversation with Ned, His eyes scanning the hallways and the entrance doors. 

“Peter, give it a rest- MJ made it quite obvious that she’s not interested in a relationship right now-” Ned seemed tired of constantly lecturing his friend about his crush on the girl, but that didn’t seem to stop him from ogling her from afar.

“Yeah- I know Ned, but maybe I can convince her to-” Ned was quick to shut that down, 

“Absolutely not- Peter, do you realize how insane that sounds?!” It sounded like Ned was about to patronize the boy some more before you decided you heard enough and walk away, sad and in a way- feeling a bit rejected. Although you did nothing that would cause you to become rejected, you felt like Peter rejected your presence in general. It’s not anything new, it’s not like it’s the first time either. You fell for Peter when you first met him, the boy was an absolute sweetheart, you had no idea why every girl wasn’t head over heels like you were. The kindest and most genuine smile you’ve ever seen resting upon his face with adoring puppy brown eyes. With a heavy heart you went to your first period class 10 minutes early. 

Ned finished his lesson with his friend, Peter grumbling under his breath- Ned spun around in your direction just to find that you weren't there, even glancing around hoping you haven’t left… again. Again and again, every day- you always left early and Ned noticed, he also noticed when Peter didn’t. Dejected, Ned sighs loudly before glaring at his best friend, 

“Well, are you happy?” He huffs

Peter cocks his head to the side, brows furrow, clearly puzzled, “About…?” 

Ned was getting frustrated, “Oh, you know- the fact that you’ve technically been a horrible friend and blatantly ignored Y/n’s existence.” 

“Y/n was here?” Ned reached over and slapped the back of Peter’s head. 

“Ow! What the hell Ned!” Peter rubbed the back of his head realising a groan. 

“You deserve that, and more-” Ned then turned on his heels and walked to his first period as soon as the bell rang, a slightly disoriented Peter ran after him, his curls bouncing along with his small jog,

“What? Why? Ned!... Wait- god, Ned! What does that mean?!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*y/n*

“God, I don’t even know what to do anymore! It’s like- It’s like I don’t even exist! Not even as friends! He couldn’t even look me in the eyes! I’m not that ugly… am I? Maybe-” You lay on your bed with your legs up against the wall while a bit of your head peeks off the side. 

“Alright let me stop you right there.” Michelle interjected, looking up from her book and placing her book mark before shutting it closed, “You are not ugly- don’t ever second guess that, plus the fact that you question your value because of some boy is just plain stupid, I mean like, women have been subjected to a society where our beauty and our worth is determined by men, and that’s honestly disgusting, like who the hell do they think they are-”

“MJ~” you grumble, plopping a pillow on your face.

“Right right, my bad- point is, you’re a bad bitch- and no boy should make you feel like you’re less, I mean this is Peter we’re talking about right?” MJ reaches and nudges the pillow away from your grasp, hitting the ground with a soft thud, you nod in agreement, 

“That’s the thing MJ, like I understand I’m not supposed to let a boy make me feel less but when I look at him, it’s like the whole room lights up,” your hands flailing above you, occasionally tangling your fingers through your h/c hair, “and he has the most beaming smile and it just melts my heart, and I just can't keep that ‘I don’t give a fuck what you say’ attitude with him.” A smile creeps on your face a tthe thought of the adorable boy with the brown locks and puppy dog eyes, “I just wanna tell him that he’s the sweetest and he makes my knees go weak and my heart swoons and wants to jump out of my chest at the sight of his beautiful fucking face.” you finish with a sigh, as if you’d been holding that in all day, and you kind of were. 

“First of all, give me a second to hold back the urge to projectile vomit all over your room-” 

You let out a chuckle as you cover your face with your hands, your ears burning in embarrassment, “MJ, stoooop” Your hand’s muffling your words

“No seriously, that was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard in my life- did you rehearse that?” She laughs. You don’t reply to her question. 

“Y/n, tell me you don’t rehearse that in the mirror-” She gasps with a smile

“I mean sometimes-” Before you can finish, Michelle is bursting with laughter, your laugh shortly joins along. 

You adored these moments with your best friend, and you appreciated how forward and comfortable she got with you after a bit in your friendship, you guys were such great friends, anyone could see it. Not a lot of people saw this side of Michelle, the funny, goofy, and loving person you know now. You could understand why Peter fell in love with her, I mean not only does she have a great personality, but she is absolutely stunning as well without even trying, wearing no makeup and a simple jogger and t-shirt and she could be on the cover of Vogue. 

Michelle’s laughter died down, wiping her tears that were at the edge of her eyes, coughing a bit from the force her lungs gave out, “god, who is this girl Peter is so ‘In Love’ with, as you put it, anyways?” 

Your laughter died down, clearing your throat a bit, you sat up, your legs crossed beneath you, “um, well- it’s kinda hard to explain-” your eyes drop to your fingers that tug on your cuticles, a habit you had if you were nervous or anxious, Michelle notices, “Stop picking at your fingers, you know that they’ll bleed,” you jerk your fingers away and instead start playing with the loose strings from your socks, “and what's complicated about Peters crush?”  her eyes squint as if she’s trying to get into your head. 

“Well, i-it’s not that it’s complicated- it’s just, i dunno… I- “ your eyes are on your shirt, your teeth nibbling on your lower lip. 

“Y/n, would you quit stalling and just tell me?” MJ stands up and sits on the bed, shifting to lay her head on your lap, you softly chuckle at her antics and lightly slap her forehead, “God bless that forehead” you giggle as Michelle groans. 

“So?” her finger reaches up and boops your nose. Dejected you sigh. 

Might as well tell the truth, lying will just get me into more shit anyways. Besides, MJ’s my best friend, she deserves the truth. 

“Liz.” god, you felt like a dumbass. 

“Liz?” MJ cringes 

Alright, now’s your chance to come clean-

“Yup! I know right.” Your voice definitely went up a couple octaves, your palms instantly clamming up. 

“Huh, I guess that makes sense-” She shrugs

“Y-yeah, I definitely think so too... “ 

Makes sense?? What is that supposed to mean?? 

“No you don’t, listen- don’t stress about it. Liz has nothing on you, “ MJ smirks up at you, sitting up and placing her hands on her shoulders making you face her, “ You are stunning y/n, like genuinely- I’m not saying this because you’re my best friend- because you know that i’m brutally honest 24/7, i’m saying this because it’s true.” Your ears burn pink and you cast your gaze to the side, “Hey, look at me- I mean it. You are so beautiful, no matter what- all those imperfections? All those flaws? They are beautiful and they are real. They prove that you aren’t a fake ass bitch who replaced everything with plastic surgery, it means that you have flaws and that you love your own flaws. Ok? And if Peter can’t see your beauty while accepting your imperfections, then he's absolutely not worth your time.” Hearing MJ talk so highly of you made your eyes brim with tears, MJ smiles in adoration. 

You let out a choked up laugh “Thanks MJ” you sniffle

“Of course, y/n. And remember what I said about boys?” 

“Boys aint shit” You burst into giggles

“That’s right queen, and don’t you forget it-” She stands up and holds your hands in hers, dragging you to your feet, “Now let’s go get pizza or something- I’m starving.” she begins pulling you towards the door, You laugh once again and follow her out. 

*Peter* 

“It’s honestly incredible how he just suddenly comes back to life, I mean what a plot twist-” Ned was ranting about the End of Skywalker, Peter couldn’t bring himself to care honestly so focused on finding a way to make the girl of his dreams fall for him. Was he looking it up? Yes. Every wikipedia article, witchy craft site, fuckboy sites, everything. 

“Peter, are you even listening to me?” Ned sighs and puts on the spiderman mask.

“Sounds fantastic, ned.” a mumble leaves Peters lips as his fingers mindlessly tap at the keyboard for more results to his search. 

“See, that response right there doesn’t make sense. I mean I asked a yes or no question and you replied with ‘fantastic’-” 

“Woah. no way” Peter once again mindlessly interrupted his friend. 

“Oh for the love of god, Peter! Give it a rest bro! This is deadass everyday, like all you talk about is having her fall for you! Besides all those sites won't help, to make MJ fall for you would take some magical miracle!” Ned burst, feeling lightheaded. 

Finally Peter stops his rapid typing and spins to look at Ned, eye’s wide and his jaw to the floor, “Ned! You absolute genius!” Peter shoots up from his seat, grasping his coat and wallet as well as his house keys. 

“I’m- what is going on-” Ned removes the mask, confusion written all over his face. 

“Magic, Ned! Magic! I’ll be right back, dude- Bye!” and with that Peter left in search of a magical wizard. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No absolutely not.” Dr. Strange muttered as he read his book, probably a spiritual thing.

“Oh come on, Mr. Strange-” Peter pleaded, nearly pouting. 

“It’s Doctor Strange, and my answer is still no.” Dr. Strange stood up, his eyes glued to the book as he swirled his hands in a graceful motion to create a small table with more books and a glass of tea of which Dr. Strange takes a sip of before walking around some more. Peter right on his heels. 

“Look, all I’m asking is to have a small enchanting spell of some kind, or even a potion-” 

Finally Dr.Strange finally looks up from his book and turns towards the young spiderboy, “Peter, you do realize that you are asking me to enchant a human-” 

“Of course I know-” 

“No you don’t, you are tampering with the emotions of a human being. This could cause some real trauma to the one being enchanted. Are you aware of that?” Strange seemed to become frustrated with Peter’s persistence. 

“Well… I am now-” Peter’s gaze fell at his feet, fidgeting with his fingers, a habit he had when he was nervous, “Listen- I understand if you don’t want to help me, but all I want is some time. Just.. I dunno, a week- to prove that I can be the perfect boyfriend for her. I just want time to show her, and when the time runs out, if she’s still not interested, then I won’t insist. Please.” Peter’s soft brown eyes gazed up at the wizard, his pout showing itself. 

“Oh no… not the pout.” Dr.Strange groans, he rubs his eyes in frustration, inhaling deeply before muttering, “One week. No more than one week.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

And that concludes part one of my Love Potion AU series! thanks so much for reading- and i’m so sorry it took so long, like I said, I’m a HUGE procrastinator. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or have any suggestions on how to improve my writing! Thanks Again and I hope you enjoy! 

@puremusicbeat-blog @halparkebitch @missmulti @everyoneyoulovedies @le-yona @universeoffandoms1 @writeroutoftime @bluelida

Ok just an FYI I tagged people who asked to be tagged AND people who voted on it, if you don’t want to be tagged, message me and I will remove you from the list! 

[degenerate-otaku]

Au where the androids in trunks time arint evil anymore so the three of them just hang out for the rest of their lives time traveling with trunks to save the day after they realised what their doing is wrong somehow cause we need happier times

Hey! I took this in a slightly different direction since I just go with the flow.

I hope you enjoy it though ♡

******************************************

It had been almost a year since the androids had come to an agreement to end their destruction. In some ways it was an anticlimactic ending to an almost 17 year battle. A part of me still wants to bring Gohan justice by destroying them, but that may just be my Saiyan side. I know that Gohan always did his best to be like his father and forgive others, so maybe he'd understand.

It's been a difficult journey, no doubt about it. To keep the androids happy, as well as the people of earth, who probably have not forgiven 17 and 18 and want nothing more to see them dead, I tend to go out with them, just to make sure there are no problems. The androids have to disguise themselves to not be recognised, which isn't too hard since they are incredibly inconspicuous (apart from 17 perhaps, who seems like the type of kid to be stealing and causing havoc anyway). Usually, it's just a case of them hiding their eyes, since that's how people can recognise them.

“Trunks, you really need to brush up on fashion.” 18 remarked as she sipped at her drink. I snapped out of my thoughts immediately, which often consume me.

“Huh? What do you mean?” I was rather offended by her comment but I kept my face and tone neutral.

“Well...you don't have many outfits...and the ones you do have are...” She looked me up and down and continued, “A little...dated to say the least.”

Before I could respond, 17, who was riding on his skateboard as he slurped at his soda interrupted, “Trunks, you look like that guy from that movie 'Back to the Future'.”

I had no clue on what he meant, since I've never seen that movie, but it seemed like no matter what I would say, they'd always have a comeback.

It had always been like that, so what was I expecting?

“Well, we are right outside a mall.” I knew what she was suggesting immediately.

'How convenient' I thought to myself.

“Sis, your shopping trips take whole days!”

I almost laughed at what 17 had said, but held back.

“Shut up! You spend all day in the arcade like a little kid! Plus, you need new clothes too!” 18 poked her brother in the chest, asserting her authority. It's so strange to see 17 shaken like that. As a kid he seemed unmoved by everything, just like his sister.

“Ugh, whatever.” He sighed, throwing the empty cup of soda in the trash.

Strolling casually within the recently rebuilt mall, which my mother helped to fund, 18 finally found a store that she thought had good items for us.

“This place looks lame!” 17 sneered at all the rather classy looking shirts and pants.

“If you're gonna be a brat, go to Hot Topic!” 18 retorted, pointing to the store she was referencing.

“Bitch, I AM the Hot Topic!” 17 loudly declared, walking off. I wasn't sure on how much money he had. The androids liked living large, and still did so, despite my mother not being so pleased about it. She told me once on how it was like she now had three teenage brats but then she realised I was right there and said that I wasn't a brat, though I know I was when I was younger.

“Now that he's out of the way...” 18 sighed, adjusting her hair, before pulling out a shirt from a rack.

“What do you think?” She asked, holding up a blue T-shirt that said something in Japanese.

“See, you gotta stop hiding those muscles! I've seen them up close and I know normal girls will faint over that, especially with your skin tone.”

My cheeks felt hot when she said that and I began to stammer, “W-well..I don't think it's for me...uh, I...don't like showing my arms.” I looked down at the glossy marble floor, and felt her gaze pierce me.

“What, because of those scars?” She scoffed and I looked up at her, not knowing how to react.

“They aren't that bad. Plus...girls like guys who have feelings and have been through stuff.” I didn't get what she meant.

“For a person who hates humans, you sure do understand them.” I don't know why I said that. She frowned and then just moved on, after putting the blue shirt in the basket, whether I liked it or not.

“So...” She tried to steer the conversation back onto clothes, “What do you like wearing anyway?”

“Well...mostly loose, comfortable stuff.” I answered.

“Yeah, like that sweater and pants you used to wear all the time when you were like...what, 13? 14?”

Why had she remembered that?

“Yeah...I have a lot of those kinda outfits.” She walked along to another aisle and I followed, not noticing that there were a few girls looking at me and giggling.

“What made you pick this one? The whole...jacket and vest combo. You wore a similar thing when we beat your ass a year or two ago...wasn't that in the ruins of this mall?”

I felt pain thinking about that. I was a fool, admittedly for going there to try fight them, but I've grown a lot since then.

“Oh...yeah, the light blue jacket and white shirt...uh, I guess I think it looks cool..especially with the sword-”

“Ughhh, what is it with men and their little toys, I've got my brother with his stupid gun, and you with that sword!” She groaned. “They're pointless!”

“Well...technically, my sword has a point-” I smirked.

“Wow, I thought you were incapable of jokes.” She replied, then pulled out a sweatshirt for me. It was a simple grey colour with a logo on it.

“Girls also like guys who dress casual...but that sorta depends. This and some nice loose jeans would look good on you, though you'd need better shoes.” I was rather astonished at how she was able to make so many combinations and knew what would look good on me, but then I realised something.

“Why do you keep trying to find outfits that would attract girls?”

She rolled her eyes at my question.

“Well, c'mon you're almost an adult and you haven't got a girlfriend! Wait...are you gay?”

I blushed hard. “What? Well, I dunno! I haven't really thought about it...”

“I'm just trying to help you find someone.” She smiled, trying to find a price tag on some shoes.

“Wait a sec, I'll ask someone about this.” She left me standing near the basket and as I fixed my hair in while I looked in the mirror, two girls came up to me.

“Hey, uh, you're cute...can I have your number?” One said and I was unsure of what to say. I didn't want to be rude, but I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to them.

“Well, uh, you see-” My brain suddenly seemed to fail me.

“He's taken.” Suddenly, 18 reappeared and out of nowhere kissed me before dragging me by the arm.

“Hey! What was that?!” The kiss was only for a split second but I was so confused.

“Wait, was I your first kiss?” She laughed.

“N-no!” I folded my arms and didn't look at her directly.

“If I didn't know better you wanted it to last longer, hm?”

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed, losing my cool.

“Hey, I'm just messing with you...I just had to get you out of there-” She picked up the basket and walked over to the queue, her hips swaying prominently

“The kiss was unnecessary!”

“You're the first man ever to reject a kiss from me.” She sounded bewildered and I gave up trying.

We exited the store with two bags of clothes and 17 had a bag of his own stuff too.

“So, mind telling me what that was?” 17 inquired and even 18 blushed a little.

"Aww, what an adorable couple!“ He mocked, laughing hard at his own jokes.

”Shut it, bonehead! That meant nothing!“ She scolded him and I don't know why I felt hurt by that.

”I was just trying to make him look good for once, but I really couldn't care less!“ She continued and I wondered if she had even meant what she said about my scars.

For the rest of the day I couldn't stop thinking about that moment. It's stupid of me, I know. I'm so fucking awkward I can't handle a girl talking to me, and when a person I hated growing up does it to me, I want it to happen again, to feel that kinda jolt down my body.

But I guess I won't.

[solllaris]

boys like you — bobby mckenzie. 

summary: despite only knowing him for a week, it never entered fallon’s mind that bobby might not be as genuine of a guy as she thinks he is. but that’s before the mean tweets challenge and now her mind is completely consumed with thoughts of him being a player. 

pairing: bobby/mc, mentions of bobby/lottie

word count: 2424

note: i cannot even tell you how long this has been sitting in my drafts just collecting dust. but!! the release of s3 really gave me the inspiration to finally finish it and after some editing i’m pretty proud of it! pleeease go easy on me b/c it is my first bobby fic so if he’s ooc please tell me and i’ll work on it. anyway i hope you guys like it!! :)

The strings of words on the page before her blurred together as her mind continued to drift. She was stuck in a never ending cycle of rereading the same lines over and over again, her brain never quite able to comprehend their meaning. The unwarranted, dangerous thoughts seared through her as her eyes, once again, shifted to the gentle lapping of the clear pool water against the coping. On any other Spanish night the sound of tranquil water would’ve soothed her to no end but the claws of self doubt and anxiety had sunken into her too deeply and there was no way for her to return. She was at their mercy and she despised it.

A loud resigned sigh huffed between the redhead’s lips, her berry colored lipstick having faded from the nights earlier festivities. She tipped her head back until it rested on the lounge chair she sat upon as she attempted to relax and loosen her tight muscles. The days busy events of the ‘mean tweets challenge’ and two boys — Rocco and Lucas — being dumped from the island had successfully wound her up until her nerves were shot. Yes, she was admittedly a bit sad to see the latter leave the Villa so soon but she was not as concerned about that as she was the challenge.

Her belly fluttered and twisted painfully as the tweet plastered onto the board flashed behind her eyelids. The words “player” and “Bobby” were never ones she’d even considered putting together before that challenge; but suddenly the ginger couldn’t drive them from the forefront of her mind and the seed of doubt in her body couldn’t be unplanted. It had sprouted its roots into her gut and raised tiny red flags where they hadn’t been previously.

Before, the teasing and little touches with Lottie had been easily brushed aside, reassuring herself that they were only friends; Bobby was a very friendly and affectionate guy to begin with, so it came as no surprise he was the same with his mates. However, as the redhead watched the way his muscular arms wrapped up her friend, peppering kisses to the top of her head to comfort her as Rocco left the Villa behind, she couldn’t stop herself from wondering. Was it all platonic? Did he really need to kiss into her hair? Did that simple act of affection mean anything? The questions were never ending, bouncing and ricocheting off either side of her skull until a dull ache began to split across her forehead.

Just when she’d snapped her book shut, the pages thumping together harshly as she swung her legs off the side of the chair, a tanned and defined chest came into view. He was still dressed in one of those wacky printed button-downs that only he could pull off. Only four buttons were done up, the remaining ones popped open and left his delectable pectorals on display for everyone to admire. His freckled cheeks were tinged pink from probably one too many drinks and she kind of hated how good he looked; it made it all the more difficult to be a bit distant and leery of him — especially with the way he gazed down at her, hazel irises holding all the affection and tenderness in the world.

With downcast eyes, she watched his feet move until he settled onto the lounge chair beside hers. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his widely spread knees and he was close enough to reach out and touch. The twitch of his clasped fingers suggested that the same thought had flitted through his mind, so she was a bit disappointed when he didn’t move towards her.

“Hey,” Bobby murmured in his sweet Scottish twang that the redhead absolutely adored. “Fallon, are you feelin’ okay?”

Fiddling with the paper cover on the hardback book in her lap, Fallon hesitantly glanced upwards to look him in the face. God, he looked so, so pretty in his outlandish shirt that hugged his biceps perfectly — like the seams around the arms would burst and unravel. His short dreads were a little disheveled from who knows what and although all of his physical attributes were beautiful, Fallon was always utterly enamored by his eyes. They spoke the words he couldn’t illiterate, the vulnerability that he found it difficult to express oftentimes. As he looked at her by the pool that night, the twinge in her chest worsened because how could he be a player and look at her like that?

“I’m fine, love, I promise,” Fallon reassured and forced a smile that she hoped solidified the white lie she’d told.

Bobby cocked his head a bit to his right and studied her, his gaze flickered over the entire expanse of her face. She knew he could see straight through her; he always could. “Are you sure?” A mischievous, teasing smile stretched across his face. “Usually I can’t keep you off me, lass. Practically jumping my bones all t—“

Fallon’s foot knocked against his leg, shoving him back lightly as she laughed for the first time in a while. “That is so not true,” She giggled.

He beamed at the sound of her musical laughter, his lone dimple cratering itself deeply in the surface of his flushed cheek. He quirked a brow and his innocent grin morphed into a lopsided smirk, “S’not what it looked like this morning in the sh—“

“I will shove you in the pool, Bobby, I swear.”

Chortling, he caught her hand that had shot out to strike his shoulder and ran his thumb along her skin delicately. The playful pool-side atmosphere slowly filtered itself out as the couple fell into a few beats of silence and his smirk faded into something softer, something that Fallon quickly picked up as concernment. The gentle but firm squeeze he gave her significantly smaller hand had her heart thrumming a bit more heavily against her rib cage and she knew the conversation she had been dreading was looming over them. Truthfully, she had hoped their short moment of joking with one another had successfully diverted the focus off of the distance she’d put between them the entire day, but she should’ve known better; he was a person of validation, craving it to ease the insecurities in his mind from past relationships, so of course he’d picked up on her guarded behavior and wanted to fix it.

Dipping his head low, Bobby pressed the softest of kisses to each of her knuckles and she couldn’t help but watch in awe of the man across from her. His lips lingered against her last knuckle for a few seconds longer than the rest and with a cute nuzzle of his nose to the back of her hand, he rose back up to look at her properly. Vulnerability was written all over his normally smiling face, brows drawn together to form a tiny crease between them, and Fallon despised the fact that she was the cause of his worry.

“What did I do, lass?” He asked quietly, barely to even be heard over the lapping pool water.

The clear-cut sadness in his voice sent a ripple of a throbbing ache through Fallon’s chest. She suddenly felt really silly for worrying about that stupid tweet because how much could an absolute stranger know about someone they’d never met anyway? It was complete stupidity on her part for believing a random person on the internet over the man she was undoubtedly falling for after only eight days.

Fallon set her book aside and dropped Bobby’s hand just long enough to move to the lounge chair opposite her, sitting so close to him that every inch from their knees to their hips touched. She pressed her cheek against his left shoulder as their hands found each other’s again, digits slotting together like they were drawn back by an invisible force.

“It’s dumb, really,” She admitted shyly, a tinge of shame coating each word. “I feel stupid for worrying about it.”

“M’sure it’s not dumb.” He shifted his body to face her a bit more, his free hand cupping her jaw reassuringly. “I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me about how you feel.”

She tilted her head to the side and pushed her lips to the warm skin on the inside of his wrist where his hand held her cheek. “I know,” She hummed softly. “I just… I dunno why I didn’t pull you aside to chat about it. I guess I just needed some time to clear my head. Figure out what I wanted to say and how to say it.”

Bobby’s heart plunged dangerously low. The cogs in his head whirred startlingly fast as he immediately assumed the worst. He wore his fear and insecurity plainly on his freckled face and Fallon instantly squeezed his hand, beginning to backtrack before the poor Scottish boy had a heart attack.

“Hey,” She whispered as his hand dropped from her cheek. “I’m sure it’s nothing, okay? It’s just about that stupid challenge…”

Her soft, musical voice trailed off and loud bursts of laughter from somewhere in the Villa carried across the lawn to fill the deafening silence. The ginger haired girl studied the side of Bobby’s face and watched as his slender fingers slid over his plump bottom lip. His dark brows scrunched together in contemplation, recalling the mean tweets they’d read earlier in the day before realization dawned on his face. When he turned his face to look at her again, there was a subtle glint of disbelief twinkling in his amber colored eyes.

“Ah. The infamous player tweet, huh?” His bare knee knocked against hers and a small amused grin ghosted across his mouth in spite of himself. “You know me. Player is my middle name.”

Fallon’s stomach twisted and she was sure her expression mirrored the irritation she felt. Moving her leg away from where it was pressed against his, she pulled her body up off the lounge chair with a frustrated sigh but she didn’t make it very far. She’d taken maybe half a step towards the villa when his warm fingers latched onto hers, gently tugging her back.

In his haste to get her to stay, Bobby had quickly stood up to catch her. The hand that wasn’t softly stroking over her knuckles came up to rest on her jaw, tilting her head up slightly to meet his gaze. Fallon felt a tug at her heart when she saw how alarmed and afraid he looked, a vulnerability that she caught quick glimpses of in only the mere week they’d known each other. It made her physically ache to consider the woman before her and what she had said or done to make him feel so afraid to lose what they’d built together.

Her resolve softened and her very short-lived irritation melted away; she could never stay upset with Bobby for long. It was like attempting to be mad at a puppy—a physically impossible feat.

“That is why I’m upset about it,” Fallon said quietly, making a conscious effort to keep her voice calm and level. “You keep cracking jokes about it but it’s not funny to me.”

His pretty, freckled face pinched in shame at the prospect of his thoughtless actions hurting her the entire day. “M’ sorry, lass,” He murmured. “It's just the idea of me being a player is so off-base that I thought it was funny. I forget sometimes we’ve only known each other for a week and you wouldn’t really know that about me.”

The redhead’s stare fell to the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were popped undone. She found herself instinctively tracing the clusters of freckles scattered along his sternum, collarbones, and pectorals—as if it were second nature and she’d been doing it her whole life; maybe she had been in another life and the familiarity of it bled into the one she was living.

When Fallon spoke again, she noted how her voice sounded tired. “You should’ve just told me that instead of laughing about it.” And then even weaker— “I was starting to believe that maybe you were just playing the game after all.”

Bobby’s thumb stroked along the curve of her cheekbone attentively. “Hey,” He hummed and the tenderness in the way his Scottish twang caressed that one word was enough to draw tears to her waterline. “Hey, baby, look at me.”

Embarrassment crept onto her cheeks and she felt her sun kissed skin burn against the palm of his hand but she obliged and the second her watery blue eyes peered up at him, all rounded out and doe-like, he felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. His brows scrunched together and his heart tugged. Seeing her cry because of him was absolute torture.

“I’d be the dumbest bloke around if I screwed us up.” The tip of his thumb caught the one stray tear that slipped over the rim of her lower lash line and he dipped lower to kiss it away. “I decree that you let me see that pretty smile of yours right now.”

The tiniest of smiles quirked up the corner of Fallon’s lips at his silly decree and Bobby frowned, clearly unsatisfied.

His expression softened into a loose smirk that reeked of mischief and the glint in his pretty eyes had her stomach flipping in anticipation. “Shame. I guess this calls for more extreme measures.”

With a brow arched in confusion, she started to curiously ask what these extreme measures were but the question died in her throat when he stooped to press his forehead against hers. The pace of her heart picked up in her chest and she was pretty certain she was holding her breath until the tip of his nose bumped hers. Fallon’s  breathy, blissful laugh filled the silence between them and his grin only grew wider as nuzzled her nose with his, back and forth a few times like an Eskimo kiss.

For a few content moments, her eyes fell shut and the worry weighing her down lifted. Bobby’s gentle Scottish lilt whispering a cheeky ‘boop’ had her lashes fluttering and she was met with one of his radiant smiles. There was no doubt in her mind that his smiles could rival those of the sun.

A boy like him with sunshine for smiles could never be a player.  He was sunshine embodied and he was the sweetest, most beautiful boy she’d ever known.

[amintyworld]

For the prompts! “Where WERE you?! Are you… okay…? Goodness, you’re burning up!” With Anxceit?

Hot and Cold

A/N: Hey Anon! Sorry, this took a while, but I finally got some motivation to finish it, and I hope you enjoy it! BTW, I forgot to add in part of the prompt, and I’m sorry, but I still hope you enjoy it anyway! - Minty

Summary: After an argument breaks out between Janus and Virgil, Virgil quickly leaves out into the incoming snowstorm. 

TW: Hypothermia, mention of cheating, unconsciousness. (As always, tell me if I missed anything!)

-------------------------- 

Virgil was stupid.

There was no other explanation for the reason he was walking down 11th Avenue beneath the bright streetlamps, rubbing his arms and shivering like a drowned cat. Tears slipped down his cheeks, turning a bitter cold as they left wet droplets on the sidewalk. 

Virgil Ingram was an idiot, there was no doubt. Only an idiot would run out the door without a jacket. A cold gust of wind left a cold chill in Virgil’s bones. His teeth chattered slightly as he tried in vain to get warm. 

It all started with a simple disagreement, a simple argument over some dishes, and within a few minutes, it turned fiery. The couple shouted at each other for hours, yelled at each other. It was Virgil’s and Janus’s first-ever argument as a couple, and Virgil was more than a little scared. 

Fear did always get the better of him. Virgil guessed that’s why he ran. That’s why he ran away from the person he loved more than anyone else in the world because he was afraid with a few words it was all over. It had to be over, right?

Janus’s face - twisted into a pure rage, his yells loud and sharp. No one could love him after a blow-up like that. Virgil’s heart burned with heartbreak, and his nerves rocked his body. Though he felt like going back, his mind urged him forward. He didn’t know where he was going, all he knew was that he was too ashamed and anxious to return. 

Suddenly, another chill blew through his bones, making him shiver. His head pointed down, he noticed the wetness of the sidewalk in confusion. He looked up - snow. It was snowing and he was wearing nothing but a T-Shirt. 

Awesome.

----------------------------------

Janus paced the living room, his cellphone in hand. He tried following his boyfriend when he booked it away from the house, only to quickly lose track of him and find his jacket on the ground on their doorstep - he hadn’t even noticed it when he chased after Virgil. 

The jacket he’d gotten for his boyfriend - hand-stitched, black with white sewn purple patches. Janus would never forget the look on Virgil’s face when he opened the present - that smile that made his heart melt. It was their one-year anniversary.

The jacket lay sprawled across the couch. Janus’s mind was worried for Virgil, making it spin like a top. He regretted every word, his anger dissipated all too quickly. It didn’t matter anymore, the argument, the anger, the back-and-forth - none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered to Janus was Virgil. He tried not to think about Virgil getting hurt, or kidnapped out in the cold and in the streets. 

Janus’s eyes checked his phone for the 15th time that evening. He’d called Roman in a panic after a few hours and Virgil not returning. Roman tried to calm him as he promised his friend to search around and make sure the emo was safe. Silence engulfed the small house. Janus huffed as he sat back down on the couch, his phone face up on the coffee table in front of him. His leg shook nervously as he waited for a sign, a signal… anything.

His eyes snapped toward a sound, the vibrating phone on the wooden table.

--------------------------------

Virgil doesn’t remember what exactly happened. All he remembered was the numbing coldness seeping so deeply in his bones, making every fluid motion feel like knives digging into his skin. He remembered he was going to try to make it to the nearby bus stop for some kind of relief from the wind and snow. He didn’t know how much time had passed since he rushed into the night, but...

He remembered someone… calling his name?

Then… warmth. Comforting, warm warmth… Virgil’s mind began to grow tired as his body went limp and he heard a panicked voice mumble ‘Shit-’.

---------------------------------

Roman rushed toward Janus’s house, holding Virgil in his arms - his body freezing cold. He didn’t know whether Virgil was dead or alive, the only thing that told him otherwise was the small heaving in his chest as he slept in his arms. The snow was heavily falling on his car, coating his window and roof in a thick layer of white within seconds when he found him.

Virgil was shaking, shivering, looking paler than normal as the snow coated his head and shoulders, turning his warm brown locks white. He got out of his car quickly, calling for him and running over as he began to slowly plummet toward the ground, Roman dashing quickly and managing to catch him in his arms. 

Roman rang the doorbell six times, and when Janus opened the door he rushed inside, trying to find the warmest area possible. “Where WERE you-?!” He saw Virgil and his voice dropped. “Is he… okay?”

He beelined for the small fireplace in the corner of the living room, scrambling to remember what Logan taught him to do in those first-aid classes, all he knew was that he needed to get warm and get warm now. He turned to Janus quickly. “You got matches?”

“Uh… I… yes…” Janus was looking toward Virgil with concern, not knowing what was wrong as Roman carefully set him down next to the fireplace. 

“Grab them, now!” Roman yelled, nervous as all heck.

Soon enough, Roman lit the fire, leaving Virgil unconscious on the floor. Janus took a deep breath to calm his nerves as Roman explained the situation. “He got hypothermia, I dunno what to do, he nearly collapsed in the snow-”

“What can I do to help?” Janus asked, and Roman tried to recall his training. 

“Just, uh… you need to get him warm! Warm drinks, blankets… oh! He needs to get out of those wet clothes.” Roman said, and Janus just nodded. 

“I’ll get him out of those clothes and in some blankets. You should make some tea.” 

Janus rolled up his sleeves and walked over toward the roaring fire, Virgil still cold and now wet from the heat, looking weak from the cold, and Janus couldn’t help but chastise himself - this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have yelled. He moved Virgil’s limp body closer to his own, pulling up the soggy t-shirt and throwing it to the side, moving to his jeans, then socks and shoes. He grabbed a soft blanket and held Virgil’s cold body close to his, wrapping the blanket around both of them. 

He was still breathing. Thank god for that.

Janus positioned Virgil against his chest as he ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, feeling his heartbeat with his own. Virgil’s wet hair soaked Janus’s white shirt, and he reluctantly opened it up to get it dry, leaving Virgil asleep on his bare chest. He felt his face flush as Virgil sighed, leaning into his chest more, being cute again.

The more Janus thought about it, the more he realized that his boyfriend was naked to his undies sleeping against his chest, the closest they’ve ever gotten thus far physically. His boyfriend was almost-naked cuddled up against him, and his blush deepened. 

He’d never really seen him shirtless before, and it never occurred to him up until this point that this was… Virgil was shirtless. He tried to remind himself it was for his health, that he was freezing, but… for some reason, the blush never left his cheeks. 

Maybe it had to do with the fact that their chests were touching, or Virgil’s sleepy cute sigh, or that fact that they were cuddling next to a fire...

Roman walked over with three steaming mugs, more relaxed knowing everything was under control. “Alright, I made tea and hot chocolate for Virge, you know how he doesn’t like tea that much-” A grin spread across his cheeks as he looked to Janus’s blush. “Should I… leave you two alone for a bit? Wouldn’t want to be interrupting anything-”

“NO- I… you’re not… everything’s fine, I’m just trying to keep him warm-”

“I see. Well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you guys need anything, seems you two need some time alone-” Roman smirked, walking away with a steaming mug toward the kitchen once more, a knowing look on his face. If looks could kill, Roman would be dead right now with the way Janus stared daggers at him as he left. 

Janus sighed as he shifted to grab his cup of tea and began to sip, his fingers fumbling through Virgil’s hair, content, trying to relax from the tension the evening brought. The clock ticked by, and Janus just sipped his tea, trying to figure out what to say to him when he woke up. Eventually, Virgil stirred, his eyes slowly beginning to open, looking up and around him with confusion, and Janus’s hand wormed into his. “Hey.”

“Uh...hey,” Virgil said awkwardly, a smile on his face. “Uh… I…”

“I’m sorry. I never should have yelled, I never should have gotten so upset, you should be able to have your own privacy-”

“No, I’m sorry. I… I should have told you what was going on instead of just running away, I…” Virgil bit his lip. “I got fired.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “I’m so sorry, Vee.” He squeezed Virgil’s hand, making Virgil look down, a blush sneaking on his face. 

“Uh… please tell me this is some kind of weird nightmare-”

Janus laughed. “Sorry to say you’re not dreaming. You were freezing up, I needed to make sure your wet clothes were off so you could get warm again.” Their eyes met again. “You really scared me. Please, don’t run out on me like that again.”

“I thought you were done with me for good,” Virgil said softly, and Janus held Virgil’s cheek as he met this with a warm smile.

“You are the best, most amazing person in the world, Virgil,” Janus said softly, his fingers running through Virgil’s hair. “A little argument won’t change that, I promise.”

“Hm…” Virgil smiled softly, both hearts beating as one at that moment, wrapped in blankets by the fire, and soon enough they found their lips together, happy to just have each other.

[catrasredemption-moved]

I asked about the whole superhero thing no i dont mind

TW: Blood, mentions of serious injury, drugs, vomiting 

Hey I just wanted to see if you’re

Delete.

I was wondering if

Delete.

You’re such a fucking idiot sometimes I swear

Delete.

Adora sighed heavily, staring at the blinking line mocking her in the text message box, Catra’s name adorning the top of the thread, the last text in the thread from Catra over a week ago - Looks like they’re replacing the door you broke. Still think they should leave it as a monument to your insanity

The blonde slumped back into her couch, staring at the ceiling, as if it would give her the words to fix whatever had broken between them.

“What am I doing wrong?”

There wasn’t a simple answer, unfortunately. Because Adora wasn’t wrong - she understood Catra wanting to help people. It was the whole reason she had signed up for army (and look how that turned out). But what Catra was doing was dangerous, and that hostage situation at the bank just proved how quickly something could go to hell. She’d been shot. She could have died.

And hearing her write it off as no big deal made Adora want to punch something.

She pressed her fist against her forehead for a long moment, then looked back at her phone.

You’re so annoying and I hate you and I miss you and I wish I knew how to make you understand that what you’re doing is dangerous and TERRIFYING and

Delete.

A heavy, single thud at the door drew Adora out of her haze. She waited for a moment, thinking it had been one of the neighbors, but then it happened again - one loud thunk against her front door. She set her phone aside and stood slowly, grabbing the baseball bat they left near the couch. She didn’t really need it, but she was alone for the weekend, and having backup never hurt, right?

Another, heavier thud. Adora stepped close enough to look out the peep hole. It was half blocked by something dark, although not in a way that seemed intentional. She braced the bat with one hand and reached out to open the door...

And almost screamed when whatever was out there fell with the door opening. A faint groan reached her ears; a slim hand wearing a fingerless glove braced against the doorframe. Adora dropped the bat and immediately threw the door open.

“H-Hey Adora,” Catra rasped with a weak smile. One arm was keeping her upright on the door frame, the other held protectively against her chest in a way that screamed ask me how many ribs are broken. Her goggles were hanging around her neck, lenses cracked. Her “patrol hoodie”, as Entrapta had endearingly called it, was ripped in several places, and Adora could see blood on the black fabric. Her eyes were glazed over, chest heaving as she panted and swayed. “Sorry, I... d-didn’t know where else to go...”

Her knees gave out. She dropped like a rock, only stopped by Adora quickly grabbing her and helping her stay upright. The hand left the door, clawed fingers digging into Adora’s shoulder instead, Catra’s face pressing into her shirt. She was shaking. Or maybe that was Adora. Maybe it was both.

Adora pulled her inside and kicked the door shut. Catra laughed breathlessly. “Thought we... talked about door kicking...”

“Shut up,” Adora said with no heat, bending over to tuck her arm under Catra’s legs and wrapping the other around her back. She picked her up, carrying her to her bedroom. “What happened?”

“Oh, ya know... stupid... vigilante stuff...”

Her voice was faint, wavering. “No, hey.” Adora nudged her a bit. “Stay awake. You gotta tell me what happened.”

She adjusted Catra so she could get a blanket off her bed, then carried her to the bathroom. “Just... Just gonna... make you mad...”

“It won’t.” That was a lie. But it didn’t matter. “It won’t, Catra, I promise. Just tell me what happened.”

They settled on the bathroom floor together, Adora wrapping Catra in the blanket and leaning her against the tub before getting the first aid kit out from under the sink. “That um... that gang, ya know? The Horde or whatever. The one with the shitty blonde pickpocket kid. Turns out they also got a big lizard guy.”

She shuddered as Adora helped her get her jacket off, then the long sleeved shirt. Catra wasn’t exactly an amateur vigilante, and she’d had an actual genius helping her upgrade her gear for months. Adora could feel the kevlar in the jacket and shirt. What the hell had they been using that cut through it so easily?

“Fucking baited me. Shitty pickpocket kid had some lady in a corner. Lizard took me down as soon as I hit him.” She hissed as Adora tugged off her binder - the last layer of her defense. The fur underneath was matted with sweat and drying blood, and there was definitely something shifting wrong under the arm she held close. “They got me pinned down ‘n’...”

She wiggled to free her other arm and tilted her neck to point out the fresh needle hole. Shit. “Dunno what it was. Kinda paralyzed me for a bit, though.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Fuck, I don’t remember...” Catra’s eyes fluttered, her head dipping. “Time s’it?”

Adora tucked her fingers under Catra’s chin to bring her head back up, and checked her phone. “Almost midnight.”

“Um... it was around six, I think? After Scorpia and Entrapta left.”

“Wait, they’re gone?” Adora demanded, momentarily distracted. “Do they know you went out?” Because that was the rule, Catra always told her roommates she was going out, and she stayed in contact with them. Entrapta had (happily) lost an entire weekend of sleeping souping up some earpieces so Catra could report back to them on a re-purposed police radio.

“They went home for the weekend.”

Home. Home for Scorpia was in the Fright Zone district of Grayskull, nearly three hours. Home for Entrapta was Dryl, just over two hours. There was absolutely no way Catra had been staying in contact with them.

“We’re not done with this,” Adora said fiercely as she started disinfecting the cuts. Catra hissed, gaze sharpening for a minute. “What happened after they drugged you?”

“I woke up in a warehouse and a bunch of ‘em took turns usin’ me as a punching bag and for target practice or somethin’.” Catra shrugged one shoulder wearily.”Think they’ve... figured out some of my tricks. There were no shadows.”

No shadows. Which meant no access to the Shadow Roads Catra used to easily escape. “How’d you get away?”

“They got distracted. They stayed really close at first, ya know, so I couldn’t break through, but a couple of them started swingin’ at each other. I got invisible and got out.”

She was so pale. It was scary. Adora tried to focus on patching her up rather than worrying about what wounds there were that she might not have been able to treat.

“M’d-dora?” Her voice was shaking, pupils shrunken to little pinpoints.

“Yeah?”

“Think I’m gonna be sick.”

Adora helped Catra turn and lean over the edge of the tub as she heaved, bringing up mostly bile. The drug, Adora was sure. She rubbed Catra’s back until the fit passed, and Catra collapsed against the ceramic, gasping. There was no blood, at least. That was good.

Catra drifted in and out of consciousness as Adora finished tending to the worst of her wounds, then carried her to the bedroom. She put one of her old army t-shirts on the smaller woman, who practically swam in the fabric. It wasn’t something she was too worried about Catra bleeding on.

“I’m going to get you some water,” she said as she tucked Catra into bed; a hand grasping her wrist stopped her.

“Stay?” Catra whispered, voice small. And how was Adora supposed to say no to that?

“Yeah. I’ll be right here. I promise.”