#I am too lazy to tag all the relationships because it would take FOREVER

[auspicioustidings]

Kiss in Payment

Summary: Continuation of Services/Goods of Equivalent Value. You have opened a teashop near an off record military base and this is a bunch of snippets of your life there.

Words: 7.5k (HOW?!)

You hadn't slept in a real bed in so long and you were not prepared to get out of it. It smelled good and it was warm and you were tired right down to your bones from all the work of the past 6 months finally culminating in the busiest and happiest evening you had possibly ever had. Only half awake you nuzzled into the pillow with a happy little sigh of contented comfort.

"Feels better than sleeping in a chair doesn't it?"

At first you smiled sleepily and made a sound of agreement. And then your brain caught up and you shot up, eyes opening and darting around madly to find you were in a small, simple bedroom and Simon was sat in the chair in the corner, book in hand being dogeared and set on a little table now that you were awake.

You had seen most of his face before when he was drinking or eating so seeing the whole thing wasn't any more of a shock than the situation you had found yourself in. It was a little strange seeing the skin around his eyes cleaned and bright, no smudges of black. He looked softer like this you thought.

"I um, I don't um… ah ha I must have fallen asleep in the chair right? Must have just been so tired! You didn't have to move me, but thanks, it wouldn't have been good for me to sleep there right? Ha ha."

God you were adorable when you tried to lie. Heart was far too prominent on your sleeve for it to ever work. You were clearly flustered way more from trying to lie than from waking up in his bed and such a fondness settled in him knowing that you trusted him so easily. You trusted that he had carried you here to help, that he would never have done anything to hurt you. 

"Gaz would have carried you to your bed, but come to think of it there doesn't seem like any sort of bedroom in your shop."

Was he teasing to watch you scramble to try and explain yourself? Maybe a little, sue him.

"Oh right! It's in… the basement, it's in the basement."

You had a nanosecond of being relieved you had thought up a lie so quickly before being horrified at what a bad lie it was. What if they wanted to go into the non-existent basement now? But you had gotten away with it for now and you relaxed as Simon just nodded with an "Ah, of course, the basement". 

Maybe you were good at this whole lying thing!

When it was time to get up and get a ride back home to the shop Simon got the little tub of eye black to smear on. You took it from him and started dabbing it on with your fingers for him since he had let you sleep in his bed. 

"It's like finger painting" you grinned, sitting back to admire your work.

He took your hand in his before you could fully withdraw it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles that had the tips of your ears on fire. You gave him a wide eyed stare in question.

"Services/goods of equivalent value remember? This one was worth at least a few days of moving furniture."

You smiled shyly, thinking he meant applying the eye black for him. Simon let you think that, knowing himself that the payment he was taking was being able to press his lips to your skin.

-

You felt your lie was under attack when, after being driven back to your shop by Price with Soap in tow, they started talking about your basement as they helped you with all the dishes from the night before.

"Didn't you help with a lot of the building Soap? Going to have to give you extra observation training, missing a whole basement."

"Och Captain dinnae, ye know that training is the worst! I'll do better next time, ye'r spot on that it's unacceptable for me to miss something like that."

Oh the way you went dead silent while you scrubbed at a plate, clearly being eaten alive by guilt. It was cute up until you genuinely seemed in distress, and although it was fun to tease Johnny was thankful when Price laid off.

"Ah I'm only taking the piss Sergeant, easy thing to miss in an old place like this."

Some of the tension bled from your shoulders and oh if Soap didn't suddenly remember the little shy kiss you pressed to his cheek the night before. Such a sweet thing, genuinely getting upset at the idea he might have to do training because of a lie you told to protect yourself. As if him and Gaz didn't lie all the time to try and get one another in trouble just for the hell of it.

"Opening is in an hour aye? Think we could get a wee out of hours tea?" Soap asked.

You dried off your hands, smiling brightly now. Making tea always made you forget all your worries and you were wildly delighted that confessed coffee person Soap was the one asking. You went straight to work, grabbing and typing off your apron and throwing your hair up. 

Price and Soap shared a conspiring look as they watched you work. They had gotten good at speaking without words. Right now their look was saying "isn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw? I think I might scream if she does one more cute thing."

With the tea steeping you sighed in contentment, jumping a little when Price's hand found the small of your back. You hadn't even realised he was so close, for such a big man he was so light on his feet! He tapped a finger to his cheek.

"Think helping wash one load of dishes works as equivalent value."

You popped onto your tip toes and planted a soft peck to his cheek and as Soap bounded forward for the same Price shoved him away with a grin.

"Got payment in advance last night if I recall Soap, can't have our favourite girl overpaying."

-

Price and Soap left just as you officially opened for the day, but to your soft delight already Horangi and Farah were waiting outside for the sign to be flipped. They were bundled up, must have walked over. Now that you knew the distance from here to the base it made you swell with pride to know they had made the trip on foot. 

"Two of ye are here awful early naw?"

"Is there a problem with that MacTavish?" Horangi asked with a smirk, suspecting that the problem was Soap was about to leave you alone with him and Farah.

He had thought it would only be him, everyone else using their morning to work out and get fed. Obviously Farah had the same idea though, both of them feeling a sense of challenge from the other. He was sure you would like learning to make his Korean sweets over her Urzik ones. 

"Course naw, always happy tae see paying customers for my girl here" he responded, clearly proud of himself for managing to find a subtle way to tell Horangi and Farah to back off because you were his.

Farah raised an eyebrow at Price when he smirked at Soap's little claim and his lip twitched slightly. The exchange was barely noticeable and yet the unspoken conversation had went something like this:

"Really John? She's a little young for you is she not?"

"Really Farah, what would Alex say?"

"Me and Alex have always been very good at sharing, ask Gaz."

"Don't remember you being this much of a brat Karim."

Farah thought it was a shame you had been subject to all these boorish men for so long. Soft, sweet thing like you deserved some soft and sweet companionship. She had hoped that she could get to know you while teaching you how to make the halva she had fed you bites of last night any time you had paused in your hectic running about to pour her tea.

You had been very complimentary of the simple sweet, wanting to know all about the cultural history of it. Farah was no stranger to the uncomfortable looks she got when she would pour her heart out about her passion for her home country. She had half expected you to nod politely and excuse yourself. Only you hadn't, you had been genuinely and unabashedly happy at how passionate she was about her home, eyes sparkling with interest as you made her promise that she'd visit again and tell you more.

Of course Hong-jin would be equally as fond of you, she had spied how he had made you try a bite of bukkumi and how he had cried laughing when it was chewier than you expected and you had bitten your tongue. That giant beside him had acted as if you were mortally wounded until you had calmed him down and Farah was observant if nothing else, she had seen how your easy way with the larger man had Hong-jin simmering with fondness. 

Price and Soap realised they couldn't very well stay without it being obvious they were only doing so to stop Farah and Horangi from being left to work their charms on you, so with a grumble they departed.

You were honestly a little nervous about your first real customers after opening day, but you thought you did a great job of hiding it and welcoming them inside.

Farah and Horangi could both tell you were nervous, it was glaringly obvious, so an unspoken pact was made that they would only compete with each other in ways that you wouldn't notice so wouldn't make you anxious.

An hour later and you were so delighted that they had been kind enough and patient enough to teach you how to make the sweets they had bought the night before, oblivious to the amount of sabotage and subterfuge in the silent war between your two customers. 

Still they did eventually have to admit defeat, they were due in meetings and couldn't stay forever. You squeaked and shook your head rapidly when they tried to pay for their drinks.

"Oh no please, you were both so wonderful to have shared your recipes with me! Think of this as payment for that."

"I already said I would teach you did I not? Of course I have to pay properly for the tea you made me."

“It would be very rude not to, I can pay for both of our teas.”

“No no, I can pay for both. After all you are technically a guest with the 141 aren't you?”

“As are you.”

“Oh I would say more a long distance member. Actually since this is so near the 141 base and you've been so good to the team, I'd say that makes you basically an honorary member!”

“Oh! That's such an honour for you to say Farah, it's more that the team has been good to me though” you explained in a rush, a pretty flush of colour dusting your cheeks.

“Ah but you also have adopted the little cat with us, so it makes you more a member of Kortac than anything else.”

“I think Herzogin adopted me, she just came in one day and decided to make herself at home and I couldn't say no” you said, now feeling so flustered there must be steam coming out of your ears.

There was something so touching about what they were saying even if it was light hearted and meant more as a joke you thought. Even the thought of somehow being a part of their lives, some little silly civilian branch of their teams, made your hummingbird heart flutter.

It was also very sweet how they both wanted to cover each others bill even though you really could not let them go unrewarded for teaching you their recipes. They must be quite close these two teams. Definitely not two people who had only properly met last night and were now locked in a bitter rivalry over you or anything.

“But regardless I need to repay you somehow for the lessons! Don't make me start pulling out a contract again” you laughed.

When they asked you explained about your hastily written contract with Soap, how it had kept expanding after that. You even showed them the copy as messy as it was.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so. 

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**and any members of the Los Vaqueros team*** 

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed”

It didn't feel much like a contract anymore what with Simon's messy scrawl and the massive pen stroke from when Soap had shoved Rudy as he was trying to add his addendum. But it always made you smile to look at.

You thought your heart might burst when they both very reverently take turns adding their own addendums on.

“I, the undersigned, agree that I will pay in full Mr John MacTavish* for works carried out either in monetary value or services/goods of equivalent value**** as soon as I have the means to do so.******

*& Mr Rudolpho Parra**

**along with any members of the Los Vaqueros team*** 

***who are to be superceded in priority by any members of TF141*****

****as defined in value by the party being reimbursed

*****including Farah Karim and Alex Keller who shall be deemed members TF141 for the purposes of this contract.******

*****Any works or services carried out by members of Kortac PMC (inclusive of Herzogin) are to be subject to the same terms of payment as above.”

After that they both paid in full for all the tea meaning you were left blustering about the double payment. And when before they left they pressed a kiss to your cheek, sandwiching you between them for a moment, you were sure you have melted right into the floor.

“That's your debt settled for the recipe” Farah teased as her and Horangi left.

–

You spent the day warmed by the smattering of visitors. Some drove out, some made the trip on foot, Gaz stopped by in the middle of his run and the sight of him shirtless and sweaty made you scald yourself when you accidentally overpoured and splashed hot tea over your hand.

“Ouch luv, c'mere and let me see” he said, immediately taking your hand delicately in both of his strong ones to do a quick inspection and then leading you over to the sink to run it under cold water.

“It's not that bad” you hissed as the water hit, it was freezing and you were really just trying to get out of having to hold it there for 10 minutes.

“Hush, don't know how deep it's went so need to make sure it cools down properly.”

You didn't feel like you were cooling down with his naked torso right there beside you, one hand still holding yours and the other resting absentmindedly on your waist. All of these customers of yours really would be the death of you.

You huffed a little and stuck your tongue out at him, knowing he was right but not liking it one bit. He laughed at you and gave you a light little headbutt into your hair, the easy affection making you smile despite yourself. You smiling made him smile and it was as always like looking at the sun when this man smiled. So much so you did not even hear the door go until you were crowded by another body, the new arrival slotting against your other side in a mirror of Gaz and sighing.

“What happened here then princess?” 

Gaz narrowed his eyes at Alex albeit playfully at the pet name, feeling his pinky brush again his hand now also settling in on you.

“Ah just clumsy! Not a very good omen to be spilling tea on the second day huh?”

“You know Ghost and Soap once got so drunk they passed out on the sofa and we found them all tangled up the next morning, said they must have moved in their sleep.”

You nearly choked on your own saliva at that, blinking up at Alex who was only grinning back at you.

“There now, we've both spilled tea, so I can take all the bad omens off of you.”

Goddamnit, Kyle always forgot how stupidly handsome and charming Keller was. Even being right in your space shirtless, having been meticulous in his work out this morning to ensure his body would look just right to get you flustered, you weren't even looking at him anymore. Too busy giving a soft smile to the American playboy. Well if you can't beat them…

You jumped when you felt Kyle's breath right at your ear. He had leaned over a little to join the conversation but it meant he was even closer than before and it was suddenly very, very warm. 

“Just to make sure though, Keller here will deny it ever happened but he once kissed a man right in front of his girlfriend! Right scandalous if you ask me. How's that for tea?”

“i-in front of your girlfriend?!” you asked, somewhat in shock that this man who had been nothing but sweet to you was a cheater. 

“As I recall, my girlfriend was the one that put in the request” he laughed, seeing your look of suspicion and softening. “I promise she was happy about it princess, we've always been open to sharing.”

Him and Gaz shared a look then, both obviously noticing that you were probably about to faint from the no doubt tame (scandalous in your head) images the idea of sharing was conjuring. While it was very endearing the way you reacted, the thump thump thumping of your heart almost perceptible, they couldn't find it within themselves to tease you more. Sweet little thing like you deserved better.

“Come on luv, let's get it dried off and wrapped up.”

Kyle lifted your hand away from the cold water and you realised they had completely distracted you from the discomfort. You wondered if it had been on purpose as he took you over to one of the stools and made you sit while Alex fished out the first aid box.

“Oh, how did you know where that was?”

“Military princess, reckon about everyone scoped out the exits, fire extinguisher and first aid kit last night. Laswell had me order some safety signs for express delivery, should arrive today actually.”

“Oh I didn't even think! How much did it cost? I’ll pay you for them straight away.”

Kyle sighed as he wrapped your hand, knowing exactly what was about to happen and not able to think of one reason to stop it. Besides, it's not like he didn't think you and Alex looked cute together and he didn't even bother to hide his grin of disbelief at how outrageous Keller was when he caressed your face.

“Farah said we could get a kiss in payment as long as it was an equivalent value. Would a kiss be OK princess?”

You didn't really remember nodding even though you had, but you were pretty sure you'd remember Alex Keller pressing a heart achingly soft kiss to your lips as long as you lived. You felt like your brain was flowing with syrup when he laughed lightly and fondly after kissing you, like he was happy he got to do it. 

“Medical fees as well luv, yeah?”

And then you were nodding and Kyle Garrick was kissing you while Alex still had one hand on your cheek and everything was a little too hot and overwhelming. 

Thankfully both men were merciful and didn't mention it when you blinked back into consciousness from fainting onto the counter. If Gaz had had to scream into Alex's shoulder because of how adorable he found it, well they didn't mention that either.

–

You were in trouble now. Kate Laswell was giving you a look that you were sure meant she could read your mind. 

“You're not in trouble, but you need to tell me the truth. Why were you staying at the base last night?”

Of course Laswell knew, she knew everything about everyone. You were the kind of soft she knew it was easy for hard soldiers to love, but if she thought for a second that one of the 141 had taken you to bed last night she was inclined to use them for shooting practice. You had been dead on your feet after opening day, not in any fit state for clandestine meetings.

Plus she felt protective over you, maybe a little possessive. You reminded her fiercely of her wife and she had already called her last night to tell her about you, suggesting they make the time to visit together when work was less hectic for her.

“Oh I-” you paused, desperately hoping you were not going to get anyone into trouble but itching to tell this woman the truth, “they found me asleep in one of the chairs so instead of waking me they let me use one of the beds. It was my fault for falling asleep where I did! They were just being kind.”

“Why didn’t the move you to your own bed?” Kate asked with a long suffering sigh. It would be just like the 141 to jump to the extreme option.

“It's um, they didn't know where it was.”

Kate had scoped out the place last night without crossing a line into snooping, but she had thought the door next to the stove would be a bedroom. The boys would have known that though, Price said Riley and MacTavish had helped a lot with construction and moving furniture. So either she was really going to have to leather them for taking you back to base when your bed was right there, or the room was a storage space.

“And where is that?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you sleep?”

“Oh hang on, I'll get you another cup!”

Kate watched you stumble away with the poor excuse of getting the pot to pour another cup of tea for her. Her teacup was still half full. And she was indeed going to have to skin the 141 alive. How did it take them so long to figure out that you didn’t have a proper place to sleep? The quiet fury she felt at thinking how long you had been curling up on one of the chairs surprised her for only a moment before she let it settle in. Kate Laswell had always been very good at quickly identifying who she considered her people and her knack of it hadn’t let her down yet. 

“How long have you been sleeping here?”

You froze as you were reaching for the teapot. 

“I-i the basement? Since I got the place.”

Kate was well aware there was not a basement, not unless there was a magical hidden hatch to it. Even if she hadn’t been 99% certain, the fact that you were the worst liar she had ever encountered and the look of alarm she saw on Alejandro’s face as he slid through the door gave her assurance she was right. The question at this point was how to gentle you into telling her what was going on and why you didn’t have somewhere to sleep. She wished her wife were here, between the two of them she was more the people person. 

“Try again cariño, there is no basement in this building.”

Your ruse was rapidly falling apart with Alejandro now here as well. You had been so sure you had gotten away with it as well, and you were just stuck to the spot gaping trying to get your brain to come up with some sort of excuse. 

“Well um, I know I said basement but I- the thing is maybe it’s just a plan to have a basement. Right. That’s what I meant, that I’m going to put in a basement and have a bed there. Yeah. And that means that right now I don’t have one. A basement I mean, or uh, yeah a bed. But it’s totally fine, that chair by the fire is super comfortable and it’s not that bad for my back and Herzogin likes being able to curl in my lap anyway and actually I really like it because the blanket would be a little too small if I was all stretched out anyway and-”

Alejandro had known you long enough to see when your brain was absolutely catching fire. It was one of the things he loved because he knew he was always able to calm you down and it made him feel overwhelmingly content whenever he did. Right now though he at least wished your brain was catching fire over something small like offering him a new type of tea or short circuiting when Rudy had poured water over himself to cool down in the summer (Ale had nearly throttled him, little shit had known what he was doing) and not over something that made him want to smuggle you home to Mexico and make sure you never wanted for anything ever again. 

He could put aside his own feelings right now though, walking over and enveloping you in a warm hug, squeezing just the right amount to make your words trail off and your brain slow down now that it felt safe and comfortable. You clung to him almost instantly, burying your head in his chest and fighting tears. You were so embarrassed to be caught, it made you feel like you couldn’t look after yourself at all.

It wasn’t that you had meant for it to all work out this way, but you were chasing a dream and you sort of came second to that. Last night you had finally made it and it had been better than you ever dared hope, it had been beyond perfect. You hadn’t even thought to include your own comfort in that dream of yours, and now when you really thought about how you had been living it all caught up and made you feel awful and exhausted. 

“There come on now, it’s ok” Alejandro said softly, leaning a cheek against your hair and sharing a look with Kate, “we’re going to make sure you’re looked after ok? Just until we can sort something a little more permanent out for you.”

“I couldn’t, I don’t… I just need a little time to save up and I can get stuff” you sniffled, doing your best to keep it together.

You were fully out of money, last night had made a small fortune but that needed to go towards overdue bills and restocking. It was enough that you would be in the clear at least, and then you could actually start saving if you managed to make any profit. You wanted to say you could survive a few more cold nights, but now that it had finally hit you, that you had spent a night in a warm, cosy bed, you didn’t know that you could. 

Alejandro just hushed soothingly at you, petting your hair and letting you cry it out. He knew for a fact Kate was taking advantage of knowing he would not do anything right now that was not solely with the purpose of your comfort in mind, he could see her typing away on her phone and glancing at him as if to say “I’m going to make sure she’s looked after, but it’s nice that you can distract her while I do that I suppose.”

Would he say he was happy when Nikolai showed up to whisk you off to a B&B for the night? Mixed feelings really. He was happy that you would spend the night safe and warm nearby. He was furious it wasn’t going to be with him. And then that vanished when he melted fully to a puddle as you darted quickly back after locking up and saying goodbye to them to nervously press a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s in the contract that I should repay you for things. I hope this works to repay you for being so kind to me.”

If Kate’s snort of amusement at his scream into his hands after you had left was anything to go by, it worked far too well.

–

“We only have a double room left, will that be ok sir?”

Nikolai had taken one look at you all cried out and sniffling outside that tea shop and decided there and then that he was going to feed you the largest meal of your life and then tuck you into a nice, warm bed and let you sleep for as long as you wanted. If he had known when he got the message from Price about the tea shop opening that you were the little thing behind the Captain and Gaz calling in all their favours he would have told the general he was flying to a critical mission to walk so he could attend. 

As it was he had been on his way to visit and apologise for not making it when he had gotten the message from Kate that she was giving him a new assignment. He didn’t know the full background, he did know that the 141 was in big trouble whatever had happened. Not his problem, he was focused on you. 

He had teased that he was going to fly you out of there at first and you had about passed away on the spot before he scrambled to tell you he was joking. The B&B wasn’t too far, it was in the nearest little village an hours walk from the teashop in the opposite direction of the base. You told him you were ok to walk and he had scooped you onto his back anyway, let you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder as you chatted away about anything and everything.

Your attempts at learning some Russian was adorable, trying to wrap your tongue around the words he would give you before even asking what they meant (he had gotten you to say ‘I am very cute’ perfectly and then told you it meant ‘thank you’, so delighted when you said it frequently that it overrode the guilt at being so duplicitous about it. He’d tell you one day. Maybe).  

“Of course, double is perfect.”

Not that you would protest given that you were fast asleep on his back now, the weight of your head on his shoulder comforting. You deserved the rest he imagined, he had gotten pictures from Price of the opening. It wasn’t easy to have so many big personalities in one place, much less have them all vying for your attention. He took great glee knowing that every single one would be chewing glass when they found out he had you all to himself right now.

You woke up when you were put down onto the bed, blearily blinking as you tried to work out your new surroundings. It was a cosy little room, the bed you were on was like a marshmallow with the perfect firm to squishy ratio and Nikolai who you had come to like very much in the last hour was laying out a frankly disgusting amount of room service onto the little table, so much of it that you could see some had already needed to be put on the vanity.

It was wonderful to exist in a sleepy, happy haze as you ate your weight in comforting pub food, soaked in the bath he had run for you and then fell into bed. Only there was only one bed. And he was already settling himself in the armchair and putting on reading glasses that made him look adorable to start one of the little romcoms from the tiny library in the foyer. In truth Nikolai was more inclined to share, but he knew that even the act of asking you would put pressure on you. He knew a people pleaser when he saw one. 

“...the bed is big enough for you as well. Would it be ok if we shared?”

Well he hadn’t expected you to be the one asking him and it took him by surprise enough that he put down his book and just blinked at you for a moment, brain short circuiting and answering in Russian instead with a heartfelt speech about how he did not want you to feel you had to offer and how he would love to hold you if you’d let him because you seemed like you should always be held and if he got to be the one to do that for only one night he would be so grateful for the trust you had given him.

You had no clue what this handsome man was saying, but it sounded nice. You hoped you hadn’t overstepped.

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I… have a bit of a contract with the 141. It’s for services and goods of equivalent value when they help me out. And you’ve helped me out a lot tonight so I know sharing the bed isn’t exactly, well I mean it’s really your bed, so I should be the one in the chair really, so it’s not me repaying you at all to share it” you rambled, very sleepy from the abundance of food and the warm bath.

“Oh lapposhychka, it is no wonder I got such warm messages from the Captain” Nikolai sighed, seeing how a light blush dusted across your nose when you got yourself worked up about a problem. “I do not want you to make yourself uncomfortable because you think to repay me with it.”

You brought the blankets right up to the bridge of your nose to hide your little shy smile, feeling somehow like you could tell him the truth that you could never say out loud to anyone else.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I was the one who wrote it down to be vague just incase… people wanted to be creative with interpretation.”

Nikolai took a moment to understand and then laughed so loudly that you could hear the neighbours laughing at his boisterous laugh. He was happy to slide into bed beside you then and you were using his chest as a pillow and listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. When you tried to thank him in Russian he only laughed lightly and hugged you as you drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

–

“Open bonnie.”

You automatically opened your mouth to let Soap feed you another bite of pastry, eyes not leaving the accounts you were pouring over. Johnny wasn’t complaining at how concentrated you were, not when it meant you had let yourself be hand fed by him after being manoeuvred into Simon’s lap. It was almost enough to make up for his plans being ruined to offer you his bedroom after Kate and Alejandro (and then very swiftly via Rudy’s big mouth everyone) had found out about your sleeping arrangements. 

You had been back to open the next morning and were going over what it would cost to stay in the B&B and build an extension versus the cost of just renting or getting a mortgage on a place in the village. Him and Simon had shared several looks to the tune of “we are going to need to get it into her pretty head somehow that we can pay for everything and actually wouldn’t it be easier for her to always have access to everything she needed if she married one of us?” and then getting into an argument about who that should be. 

It was idyllic and wonderful and then of course Simon had to be Simon and have an admirer who was jealousy pawing at the beautiful thing in his lap.

“Oh! Ah Herzogin, I’m so sorry, I’ve taken your space haven’t I?” you said with a little scritch behind her ears as you stood and stretched. 

Immediately the cat was up in Simon’s lap and purring aggressively, making biscuits into his thigh. The look between him and Johnny then was more to the tune of:

“Jesus Si dae ye have tae be such a bloody cat magnet?”

“Well what do you want me to do Johnny? Shove König’s cat onto the floor?”

“Wait… wait we need tae steal König’s cat.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well if we want tae have her pick us…”

The unspoken conversation did not make it much further because you were asking if they wanted a drink. Johnny ordered an Irish coffee, Simon ordered an earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey. 

“Oh, you mean a L-” you started, Simon looking at you like he may commit homicide if you said the words ‘London Fog’ to refer to his drink order. 

“Llllllarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey,” you finally said, desperately improvising. 

“A large, yes sweetheart” he said with a grin that nearly knocked you unconscious anytime you saw it on his unmasked face. “Although I’ll take payment for looking after the cat just now.”

While one hand was scritching at said cat he used the other to grab your waist and pull you closer, tilting his head up and smirking. Honestly he had mostly expected you to blush brightly and if he was very lucky kiss his cheek, so when you leaned down and pressed your lips to his beautifully gently the scariest solider the SAS had ever seen was reduced to blushing brightly himself.

Soap was only too eager to remind you of his services of feeding you bites of food so you wouldn’t simply waste away while you were working and your bravery only stretched so far to give him a quick peck before fleeing to the kitchen absolutely ablaze to make the coffee and London Fogarge earl grey tea with steamed milk, vanilla and a touch of honey.

–

It had been less of a fight than you thought for you to stay in the shop. Price had insisted they get you an air mattress and a proper duvet at least, but they had all been respectful of your wishes even if not happy about it when you had said you really would be ok. They were already doing so much now that you had decided to build an extension instead of renting or buying somewhere else (you loved this place so much, you didn’t want to be so far away). Already they were grumbling about contractors and how they’d do a bad job so you may as well let them do it and honestly? A little part of you felt like this was as much their baby as it was yours, so you were warmed that they wanted to help.

And you were also warmed by how they had listened. They hadn’t overruled you like you were worried they might, they had just made sure that you were safe and as comfortable as possible. Mind you their idea of safe was overkill (the locks on the door they had installed in record time were something out of a sci-fi movie and more often than not the past few weeks you had not been alone on that air mattress in the shop), but you still felt so listened to and respected in your own right.

This was the first evening in the last 5 you had spent just you and Herzogin. Well just you since she had slinked out to go cause mischief somewhere no doubt. You were honestly a little relieved when there was a knock at the door, feeling a little strange being alone now as you got up, jumped through hoops to unlock all the security protocols and opened the door.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

You did not know the American on your doorstep in the torn skull balaclava, but you could see he had been beaten badly. 

“Who did this to you?” was spilling out of you as you reached out your arms to him to try to take some of his weight since he was slumped against the doorway.

“If I told you that I’d have to kill you sweetheart” he said, somehow managing to sound condescending even though he was hissing the words through gritted teeth.

It was probably a strange thing to think, but he reminded you of Simon. Something about the way he held himself, the way he handled this situation. The pet name. Maybe it was some transferred fondness that had you taking as much of his weight as you could handle and stumbling inside with him, dropping him on the sofa (a new addition thanks to Nik) and rushing over to get the first aid box that thankfully had been upgraded to a full military grade mini medic bay by Kate and Farah. 

“I mean you could try, but you’re not looking so hot” you said, bringing the kit over and kneeling by the sofa to try and figure out the worst of the damage.

“Ouch sweetheart, never had anyone tell me I don’t look hot on a first date.”

Oh this man was ridiculous, but at least if he was flirting he was probably not dying. 

“What can I say, high standards.”

You felt his eyes scrutinising you as you checked him over. You had trained in first aid before you had even bought this place, knowing that it would be legally required but also that morally you could not have people in your premises without knowing you could look after them. Not that your customers generally needed looking after. Even the ancient book club that had started coming in from the village on Sunday afternoons were tough as old nails.

“You’ve not called anyone.”

“Well I’m assuming you don’t want an ambulance involved, and I wanted to at least be able to say how bad you were before calling someone else.”

“Who are you gonna call?”

“Ghostbusters.”

He laughed and you hissed at him to stop when it clearly put him in more pain to do so. Poor Nik had been so proud when he had arrived with this sofa, had really been gloating to everyone about how you had reacted by launching yourself at him in a hug, and the chances of the blood stains ever coming out were very slim. 

“And if I asked you not to?”

You looked at his eyes to find them staring back at you, almost in challenge. This guy sure was a piece of work, but you really wanted him to be ok. As you tried to pack the stab wound (you thought at least) with gauze, you mused that maybe this time somebody might owe you and not the other way around. 

“Then I’d wait until you passed out and then call him when you couldn’t say no if I asked.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. Oh. That was not something you were going to be exploring while your hands were covered in blood. You just levelled him with a glare that very much screamed ‘behave yourself’ and grabbed your phone to call Simon. He answered on the second ring.

–

You know when you really sat down to reflect, your life had gotten so strange. Fake dating König because some wildly charming man called Graves had called you “little darlin’” and that was apparently a security threat, having to smack Soap with one of those squeaky toy hammers any time he scratched at his stitches after coming back fully banged up from a mission, having to referee a tricycle race between Ale and Valeria (your first time meeting her had been wild in and of itself), mediating the all out war between the book club made up of 80+ year olds and the 141. 

One thing you could say for sure though when Price took your blind fold off to reveal the brand new extension finished with the absolute cosiest living space you could ever have wanted is that you were incredibly happy. It was a strange family that you found yourself in, but with that now almost illegible from all the additions contract proudly on the wall of your teashop, you found that it suited you just fine.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod #cod au #tf 141 x reader #cod x reader #fluff #everyone x reader #I am too lazy to tag all the relationships because it would take FOREVER #keegan x reader #nikolai x reader #jamming all of the fluff tropes in actually #as a treat to myself

[petrichormore]

(It’s time for a 4halo ramble and analysis into their current relationship! Everything that follows is about the characters, I’m not using the q! because I’m lazy. I also want to repeat that while I am a 4halo shipper this entire rant is me explaining why I don’t want them to get together right now or anywhere in the near future. I don’t really consider this 4halo neg but let me know if you want me to tag it as such - they have the chemistry and in a distant future I could see it - but the fluffy 4halo that everyone seems to be imagining right now? I can’t see it happening. Toxic 4halo is another story entirely though and not what this ramble is about)

Okay you have been warned (THIS IS LONG):

not saying I’m not a huge 4halo enjoyer because. I am. But I do hope they don’t actually “become canon” or get into a relationship for the foreseeable future. Because the only realistic way that will end is in a giant, heart-wrenching break-up after like. 2 weeks. And I don’t see the ship recovering from that I’m gonna be honest.

Look. They can barely communicate as they are right now, any kind of committed relationship between them would end in fire and brimstone - especially when you take into account the power imbalance that is already causing problems.

Forever has not apologized for jailing Bad, even though Bad has asked for it (a rare show of communication on his part) and he might not apologize ever because he thinks he’s in the right. Somehow Cellbit is the only one to have apologized despite being the one calling for Bad’s head the most during the actual furniture incident. Anyway, Bad knows Forever thinks he’s in the right. And Bad also knows Forever wielded his presidential power to keep him jailed - so if Forever’s not sorry and he believes he was right, what’s to stop him from doing it again - in Bad’s mind, that is. There are actually quite a few things keeping him from doing it again, chief among them being that he doesn’t want to lmao. But Bad wouldn’t know that, would he?

I just- The imprisonment hurt Bad’s trust in everyone so badly that he destroyed every waystone in his base - and he when he found out Pac had someone gotten in anyway, he destroyed the waystone again. I don’t think people understand how long he’s been contemplating doing that. I don’t think people understand how many times he’s decided against destroying his waystones. It takes a pretty big fuck up to get him to do that. It takes a fuck-up of pretty tremendous proportions. And he did that last bit with Pac extremely recently too, which means he hasn’t forgotten.

And that - the whole furniture fiasco - that’s not a misstep that will just smooth over if Bad and Forever just care about each other hard enough. They already care about each other deeply - it didn’t stop the conflict. It’s not something everyone can just sweep under the rug with the power of love and no actual communication. Or at least I hope it’s not. It shouldn’t be. Any relationship the two get into right now will be steeped in distrust and wariness on Bad’s part due to the amount of power Forever can choose to use against him at any moment. And even if Forever hadn’t imprisoned him, that would still probably be the case, albeit to a much lesser extent. But Forever did imprison him, so now Bad’s not only wary of Forever turning on him in a hypothetical sense - he has past experience with that exact scenario. He has reason to distrust. It’s not paranoia in this instance; it’s genuine, rational distrust, which is even harder to alleviate.

By the way, that’s not even taking into account that Bad now knows of the existence of a drug that can brainwash Forever into potentially abusing his power against his own will. Think about how scary we all thought the drug-induced marriage proposals were. Think about how much scarier it would’ve been if Bad and Forever had actually been dating at the time. I’m not going to get into the risus potion here, or what implications it has for Bad’s trust in Forever - or more accurately, the trust he has in Forever’s position of power - because that’s too fucking complicated for my silly brain right now and this is long enough.

So basically: how is a relationship between a president and an anarchist supposed to work? Is Bad supposed to shut up, abandon his core principles, and do whatever Forever wants? When he opposes/attempts to help Forever improve the voting system he’s not being ‘immature’ - he’s acting in perfect accordance with his own belief system. There are points where he does act antagonist in an immature manner but in those instances he is very obviously being dramatic on purpose (and Forever does it as well). Him thinking Forever’s voting system isn’t fair isn’t him being immature, it’s just him being politically opposed. And Forever - what about Forever? Is Forever supposed to throw away his entire presidency? Oh, Bad’s an anarchist so that means Forever has to give up everything he’s worked so hard to accomplish, all the plans he has, all the good he’s desperately trying to do despite the fact that the nature of his position is scaring his loved ones away? He’s supposed to let everyone boss him around? Just because his crush hates government? Really? See, none of these options sounds particularly healthy, but their friendship isn’t even healthy right now so I can’t see them somehow reaching a better alternative.

Idk if you couldn’t tell I don’t like it when people non-jokingly boil down Bad and Forever’s political arguments as something that’ll be solved if one of them gives in or apologizes. Because they won’t. Because neither of them is wrong. Forever was partially right when he told Bagi that nothing he does as president will ever satisfy Bad - Bad is an anarchist, the fact that a government has been forced on him in the first place is already a fundamental problem - and that’s not wrong of him! It’s a genuine difference in beliefs and neither of them is wrong! Bad is not somehow automatically wrong because he’s an anarchist, and Forever is not somehow automatically wrong because he’s the president. Grrr bark woof grr bark, etc… you get what I mean.

(TLDR; if 4halo becomes canon right now it’ll crash and burn instantly and kill everyone on board which I don’t want to happen. Therefore I don’t wish for it to be canon.)

#please remember that while forever has the title of president the position is actually comparable in power to that of a king #he can actually do whatever he wants the only thing stopping him is his morals and the federation #and while q!forever himself may not realize that #q!Bad definitely. DEFINITELY does #and he’s behaving under the assumption that ‘morals and the federation’ is not a very strong power balancing system #partially because of his own moral code and what he would do in that position but even still he Knows what ‘president’ actually means #qsmp #qsmp analysis #4halo #taking minecraft political relationship drama WAY too seriously #q!badboyhalo #q!forever #neither of my perfect boys have ever done anything wrong ever and I refuse to accept otherwise

[thesapphireprincess]

Let’s talk about doing the damn thing

By doing the damn thing I mean actually working toward your goals with physical action

What is it that you want in your life? What do you truly want that will make you happy? I’ll tell you what I want. I want to be able to come home without a single worry about my necessities in life but it is more than that. I want to be able to walk into any store and not worry about the price tag, a life of abundance. I want to be able to wake up to an alarm by choice, I want the alarm to go off because I want to wake up at a certain time not because I have to be at this job at a certain time in order to keep a roof over my head. This is what I want. I want to be my own boss and run my own business, this is what I want. What is it that you want?

It’s always been my dream to be my own boss and run my own company since I was 9 years old. I am now 23 and I got a little lost through out the years, nothing too heavy just being surrounded by the wrong people. I always wondered why when I would cut off every toxic person in my life I would suddenly be focused on my future but then another test would come and I would fail that test and be lost again and unhappy. Friend groups are not for me. Friend groups are usually toxic and full of so much unnecessary drama. I always felt left out in friend groups. I think I’m meant to be solo until I am so stuck on my path that it would take a literal meteor to knock me off. I prefer to have friends but not a friend group. At the moment I don’t have any friends because as you can probably guess I cut them all off. While I’ve been in Texas I haven’t made any solid friends. The people I’ve met haven’t been too consistent but ig that is for the best. I am not meant to have friends right now. I would like to have a few friends but I want true friends not fake ones. If I was meant to have friends right now I would simply have them, am I right?

Let’s get into the main topic of this post “doing the damn thing”. Just recently I’ve come into myself in a way that I’ve never before. Being content with who I am and where I am. I didn’t say comfortable I said content. Even though I am content with myself I’m still looking for ways to improve and grow in every way possible in order to reach my goals. There are things that I need to do and that I am working on in order to create my dream life. I hope this makes sense. Ik what I need to do to be successful and I need to do more than that. I need to push myself harder not like a working mule because never that. I mean I can feel that I am being lazy in certain areas that I shouldn’t be lazy in. It’s a slight adjustment and it’s not going to burn me. Pushing myself to work towards my goals is so important to me. I want to stick to a schedule, be organized and realistic with myself. I want a balance of work, rest and fun. I’ve been dabbling too much in the rest part so it’s not balanced. I will fix this in time. I have figured out a good schedule and now I just have to try it out.

I want to be able to date the kind of men I want to date. I want to be taken out to really nice places with men who are well dressed, handsome, wealthy, generous, smart, and kind. A gentleman. I have the image of the kind of men I want to date and eventually be with but in return I have to become a women of means. Turning myself into who I’ve always imagined myself to be is something I want. I want to be seen as a woman not a girl. Becoming her requires not only beauty but brains and trust me I have the beauty thing down. I am working on the other half, the brains. Me becoming my Dream version has nothing to do with a man btw but I definitely don’t want to be single forever. I want to be in a healthy relationship and I’m not going to pretend that I’m perfectly ok with being alone for the rest of my life or being 40 with no husband or kids. If that’s what you want that’s fine but that’s not what I want. When I am 40 I want to have a husband or 40 with a husband and kids no in betweens. I want to get married in my mid or late 20’s and then maybe have kids in my early 30’s. I deserve love and I deserve to be with the man of my dreams. Hello like attracts like. I’m done dating men who aren’t what I truly want. I want a Bruce Wayne archetype minus the mommy and daddy issues. I mean the look: dark hair, handsome, young and wealthy. A Mentally healthy and wealthy man. I want someone kind and adventurous with the means to give me and show me true romance. I want someone who can give me a life worth truly living. I want the career, the husband, the lifestyle and family of my dreams. So I will become the woman of me dreams. I’m only 23 and a lot can happen in a year especially with hard work. I refuse to be stagnant in life, I refuse to waste my youth doing nothing and I refuse to waste all the opportunities life has to offer when you choice to knock on the door of your dreams. With all of this being said, stop being stagnant. Stop wasting your time and do the damn thing.

#level up #self improvement #entrepreneur #entrepreneurship #hypergamy #upscale dating #black women in femininity #black women in leisure #black women in luxury #spoiled girlfriend #spoiled wife

[vneuns]

▸ Autocomplete interview | cc!Wilbur ֙⋆ ་ .ᐟ

＃ʚĭɞ warnings none ;p

ʚĭɞ＃ author's note(s) it's here. here you go. mwa mwa. if it sucks oh well lmao. i’m thinking about going on like an updating schedule? maybe idk maybe one fic every sunday

＃ʚĭɞ others edited by my editors @echoteaa + @boo-berry-chaos

“Why am I kinda nervous?” You looked over at Wilbur as the makeup artists added a hint of blush to your cheeks.

Wil shook his head as he tilted his head back taking a sip of water to hide his smile.

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n.”

“And I’m Wilbur Soot.”

“And this is the wired Autocomplete Interview.” You finished together, reading the lines from off the script board a crew member was holding up.

“This is our first um,” Wilbur looks over at you before turning his attention to the camera. “Interview together since we’ve announced our relationship.”

The scene cuts before introducing a white screen stating that the world's “hottest” couple would be answering questions autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet.

You’re given a board to which you hold simultaneously to Wilbur. The word “Is Wilbur Soot” only part showing. You reveal the rest of the question by ripping off the long white sticker.

“Is Wilbur Soot Single?”

Wilbur looks towards the camera and then to you and back down to the board. You watch as the corner of his mouth twitches before he shakes his head. He leans forward placing a kiss on your soft lips answering the question wordlessly.

“Is Wilbur Soot British?”

“I am British, I drink tea at tea time every day.” You laugh moving on to the next question.

“Is Wilbur Soot in Lovejoy?”

“Yes I am! And we recently just released our new EP Pebble Brain.” He winks at the camera. “Check it out sometime.”

“Y/n what’s your favorite song from P.B?” A crewmember off to the side asked.

“P.B I like that.” You chuckle thinking over the question. When asked a favorite you never really could decide, because in all honesty they were always amazing and picking one seemed so wrong.

“I absolutely adore all of them, and I’m not just saying that because my boyfriend is sitting right next to me.” The brit next to you playfully rolls his eyes and throws his head back.

“But I’d have to say Perfume because I was in the studio while it was being made.”

“Good answer.” Wilbur raises his hand for you to high five.

“Why thank you!”

“Is Wilbur Soot married?”

“No I am not married, but maybe soon.” He lifts the side of his cheek doing finger guns at the camera making a ‘kehe’ noise.

Switching, a woman comes up to you taking the board from your hand before giving the new board to Wilbur.

“What is Y/n Y/l/n’s favorite color?”

“Midnight blue.”

“What is Y/n Y/l/n’s net worth?”

“Why would someone want to know how much I’m worth?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the question and move on.

“What is Y/n Y/l/n’s new movie about?”

“A girl who needs a date for the Holiday.”

“We’re going through these fast,” Wilbur states when the same lady from before hands you aboard with his name on it and takes the one from him.

“How is Wilbur Soot so tall?”

“Genes baby.”

“How is Wilbur Soot dating?”

“Maybe they meant who... But I am dating this wonderful person right here.”

“Think that’s it.” You throw the board out of the field of view of the camera before immediately going to pick it up and handing it to a crewmember nearby.

“They could never litter for the life of them,” Wil murmured loud enough so the camera could hear before you sat back down, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I tried to be funny, and immediately felt bad.”

too lazy to tag everyone sorry not sorry

#mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt x yn #sapnap x reader #fluff #dream x reader #georgenotfound x reader #dream smp ff #dream team ff #feral boys ff #wilbur x reader #wilbur x male reader #wilbur ff #wilbur fanfiction #wilbur x gn!reader #wilbur x fem!reader

[zvnphoria]

FIRST SLEEPOVER WITH CHIFUYU

requested: yes

notes - thinking of doing this with other characters hmm...

tags - @lemon-irl

he was the one who actually asked you for a sleepover

it was sorta the start of your relationship, and of course like almost any other relationship, it was awkward in the beginning.

chifuyu being chifuyu, he wanted to do something about this. so, he came to this conclusion and boy was he nervous when the night finally came when you were sleeping over at his apartment

he got so prepared!!! got your favorite snacks from the store, made sure his bed and couch were clean and comfy, he even washed the sheets so it’s fresh and new!!! the amount of effort this boy put in...

after contemplating whether or not he should change his lazy outfit, someone suddenly rang the doorbell and of course it was you.

“hi :)” yes you said this with a smile, yes he died a little inside.

you were already wearing your pajamas and he couldn’t help but let out a laugh

you also had brought some snacks and had no idea he was already prepared for that

little did you both know, you both actually asked baji for advice.

very very bad idea why would you guys do that..

now this is where the chaos starts

after he welcomed you in, you both sat on the couch and just sat there in silence for a couple of seconds until he asked you

“do you want to netflix and chill?”

you spat out the oreo flavored drink you were drinking after he said that and was practically choking

he didn’t know what he was saying because a certain SOMEONE told him to say that if he wanted to ask them to watch a show/movie with you.

poor boy was panicking and patting your back to help stop you struggling for air, thinking ‘it’s been less than five minutes why am i already fucking up?!’

after you guys finally calmed down you asked him

“ ‘fuyu, do you know what you said just now?”

no. no he doesn’t

he didn’t really respond but just gave you a confused look which sorta looked like this - :>?

you looked up the meaning of it on your phone instead of explaining cus it was too embarrassing,,

when he showed you his face immediately went red, jaw dropped, covered his mouth - no. slapped his mouth so hard that it echoed throughout the room

kept apologizing and explained himself

“i really am so sorry y/n i had no idea!!! baji told me to say this and said this was one of the new and cooler ways to ask your s/o if you wanna watch tv with them!! (;_;)”

pause. keyword - baji?? that was already a bad sign

you affirmed him it was fine and you know he didn’t mean anything of what he just said

“baji will be baji i guess..”

after that little chaotic moment happened, things had finally gone back to normal. or so you thought..

you both agreed to watch a scary movie (another bad idea)

chifuyu looks like he’s doing okay when he’s watching horror movies but in reality he’s terrified. he’s being strong for you!

you were holding hands and he was trying so hard to hide his blush but failed

a jump scare came up and you both yet a little yelp out and tightened your grip on each other’s hands

but that wasn’t the scary part about it.. it’s that the lights went out right after.

chifuyu wanted to scream. you guys just had a cute little couples moment and then his lights just decided to go out?? way to go

before he can even stand up to fix the problem, the lights went back on except he heard noises this time

the noises were the sounds of cats. he only had one cat and that was mr. peke j!

when you glanced at him he had a look on his face as if he knew what was happening, and was not happy about it

before you can even say anything he immediately ran to his room, opened the window, and found his best friend stuck in a weird position

“what the hell do you think you’re doing baji?!”

all baji could do was laugh..

“my beloved cats, abort the mission!! abort!!!”

well it was too late now

chifuyu dragged him inside and made him explain what he was doing

turns out he was spying on you guys to see chifuyu’s first sleepover

“wait. so then why did you lie to me and tell me to get snacks when you knew that ‘fuyu already prepared them?” you said with a confused tone

“well.. i was gonna sneak in and take some snacks”

you mentally slapped yourself

oh my god

you got up and got almost all of the snacks you bought and threw it at him

“happy?? get out!!” although it was a laughing type of situation, you were definitely not happy

after baji left, things got even more awkward. chifuyu noticed this and wanted to take action

“uh- y/n? i know you’re upset right now but..”

he couldn’t say the words he wanted to say because it was too corny and awkward - so he showed you

he held your hand, put his face extremely close to yours only with such little distance, he had a look on his face with determination and hesitation, sorta asking for consent if he can kiss you. you nodded and pressed your lips against his.

after a moment he rested his head on his shoulder and tried playing off your little (sorta) make-out sesh like it was nothing and you were trying so hard not to laugh

it definitely cheered you up though

“i love you”

oops you blurted it out

you were wondering why he wasn’t responding back and turn to look at him and his face was bright red

this will forever be cherished in your memories..

in the end, you two just cuddled to sleep :)

#tokyo revengers chifuyu #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu fluff #chifuyu imagines #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu matsuno x reader

[imo-chan-imagines]

『 As your boyfriend | BNHA Headcanons 』

From the good, to the bad, to the downright adorable.

Characters: female!reader, Aizawa Shouta

Tags/warnings: Boku No Hero Academia (anime), 18+, explicit descriptions of sex, smut, fluff, soft dom Aizawa, relationship, headcanons

⚠️ 18+ CONTENT! MINORS: PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

A/N: Right, so I'm simping for this man biG TIME, but I'm only on season 3, so no spoilers or anything, please. This is my first BNHA post (and it turned out way longer than I was intending 😅) Please let me know if you want more in the future!

Also, I have a repetitive strain injury, so typing stuff is taking a while at the moment. Sorry about that. Thanks for reading! Please enjoy ♡ ~Imo

☆ Aizawa Shouta ☆

I'm not going to lie. Shouta can be a big ol' grouchy pants sometimes, and it's basically impossible to win an argument against him makes you want to tear your hair out, sometimes

But most of the time, he's just tired and in pain, and he doesn't mean to be so crotchety

He's not the type to make excuses, though. That's childish. He means his apologies, even if they're simple

He'll normally initiate an apology by gently wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his forehead on your shoulder 🥺

Physical contact is incredibly personal and intimate for him. He doesn't just touch anyone, or allow them to touch him

You're special 💞💫

Soft, gentle touches, like his fingers interlacing with yours, or his leg brushing up against you, are basically his way of saying 'I love you'

Catch me crying in the corner, a'ight? 😔

He rarely ever raises his voice. Like, ever he doesn't need to, and is aware that it can be scary

He's definitely the kind of guy to forget to tell people that you're dating, simply because he doesn't see how it's relevant or anyone else's business 🤦‍♀️

I mean, he ain't wrong, but–

And his mood switches between 'antisocial' and 'clingy' like a mechanical metronome did someone say 'cat'?

Sometimes, you'll be lucky if he speaks more than three words to you together in a whole day nothing personal 🤷‍♀️

But on other days, he literally won't let you out of his arms for the world he's complicated, okay?

You have missed many a parcel delivery because he wouldn't let you get up from his lap to answer the door 🙄😂

Boundaries and responsibilities are key and highly respected by Shouta, and he would NEVER erase your quirk without your permission, unless he literally had no other choice like someone's going to get hurt, or something

Is generally quite serious so what's new? but you're one of the few people he can relax around when he feels like it

9/10 of his jokes are dad jokes 😎 hell yeah

Takes a hard stance in financial debates, but is constantly broke af 😶 says he'll buy you dinner and presents you with some instant noodles with a 'Reduced To Clear' sticker on them

Will take a bite of your food/steal some off your plate without asking, and literally say nothing to defend himself #gremlin

Is incredibly shy and uncomfortable about being ~le horny~ until you've been together for literally forever

Even then, he's still shy about it when he has to bring it up and it's pretty cute, let me tell ya

It took him forever to admit to you that he gets turned on when you eat ice lollies

Guess what you do whenever you want to mess with him like a little brat 😛

But if he's in the mood, he will 100% whisper something dirty in your ear, even if you're completely alone and probably well past third base

He does it because he knows your pussy will clamp around him at the sound of his voice 😳🥵

*fans self profusely*

Genuine, unadulterated smiles are rare with Aizawa, but when he does 🙌 Heaven hath opened its gates and allowed an angel walk amongst mere mortals 🥺🤧

If he lays his head on your chest, he will fall asleep like that *snaps fingers*

Surprise nose and forehead kisses to show he loves you ❤

Calls you 'Kitten' this is basically already canon at this point

And he's all about those deep talks with you at 3 am when he can't sleep

Speaking of insomnia!

It's cheesy, but you're like a soothing balm. The warmth of your body makes him feel safe, your touch helps him relax, and your voice soothes him to sleep

He's never slept as well as when you're beside him 😭🤧

When cuddling, he likes to be the big spoon but will accept being the little spoon if you if you press your boobs against his back and ask really nicely 🤭

And he loves you stroking his hair and running your fingers through it 🥺

Netlix nights and pillow/blanket forts!!

Rainy days are a godsend. Staying inside all day under the blankets, with the soft sound of the rain falling outside and no-one to interrupt you – literal paradise

He makes mean hot cocoas and Irish coffees 😋 I feel like this man lives off Irish coffees 😂🤣

Wears a lot of black and grey sweatpants at home 😗 which highlight the outline of his dick just right, if ya know what I'm sayin' 👀

Doesn't like going out for dates and prefers staying inside and doing stuff together same, honeyy

But if you really like going out, he will somewhat begrudgingly agree to it and get all dressed up for you, just so long as he gets his fair share of home-dates, too 🤗

But if you also don't like going out... the two of you will basically never leave the house, except to get groceries in your pyjamas from the 24-hour convenience store down the road at one in the morning oddly specific, I know, but you get me

And sorry, but I don't make the rules

Well, actually, I do. But shush

We all know that Shouta cleans up *chef's kiss* So when you go somewhere ~fancy~ he always looks so damn fine 😩

But he has very little idea that he's hot he sees himself as a tired, walking dumpster fire🚶‍♂️🔥

Shouta will 100% turn into a crazy cat dude with 15+ cats if you don't stop him I never said you should, though 🙃

And is a 'minimalist texter' – basically, if he can't answer a text with 'yes', 'no,' 'maybe', or 'OK', then he probably won't answer it at all 😭😂

Especially if you try and sext him or send him your nudes while he's at work. He'll probably lecture you when he gets home and depending on just how much you turned him on, he might proceed to teach you a lesson...

But wear his shirt, and just his shirt or his hoodie and he's yours

Heart eyes, motherfucker 😍

And, depending on how you two are feeling that day, you may or may not end up getting dicked down on the nearest semi-flat surface right then and there 👀

But don't misunderstand. This is an incredibly tired man you have here, and his libido actually isn't through the roof sorry, ladies so this kind of thing isn't an everyday occurrence

But when he dicks you down, he dicks you down goooood

Shouta's not big on PDA, but makes up for it in private. We're talking hands and kisses all over your body he leaves nothing unloved 😏

And while he's not big on PDA, he is big on sneaky displays of affection or 'SDA', as I like to call it

Like subtly grabbing your butt for a second, or his hand on your thigh under the table at a dinner etc. especially around other people

But what really gets him going is slowly removing your clothes and taking you fully naked, spreading your legs wide and holding them open he likes the view 😍

He lowkey highkey worships your body 🙏 and will literally not shut up about how fucking pretty you are, and how fucking good it feels inside you his words, not mine 😳

Groans and growls a little when he's getting close/cumming especially when he's being a little rough and likes to cum together, but knows it's not always practical

He tends to be a gentle dom, but can get just a teensy bit 🤏 rough if he's too into it – but nothing outrageous

We're talking rough thrusts and a brutal pace, maybe holding onto you a little too hard and, waaahh, he gets so embarrassed if he leaves bruises

Is also into a little bondage, but again, only light stuff – restraining your wrists with his hands or his tie or his Capturing Weapon 👀 maybe blinding-folding you if you're okay with it

If you're not blindfolded, then I'm afraid he's all about that eye contact

Eating out your pussy? Eye contact. Pounding you into the mattress? Blazing eye contact. Rearranging your guts in front of the mirror? Fucking eye contact

And CONSENT, BABY. THAT'S WHAT HE'S FUCKING INTO 😌🙌💞

But all jokes aside – he's too used to taking without consent with his quirk, that he's kind of paranoid about it comes to sex but it's adorable and sweet, and honestly, still kind of hot

And speaking of eating pussy – goddamn does he like to please you. Like cream to a kitty 😛

Oh, and he just loves it when you suck on his fingers as he's pounding into you 🤤

And he likes to leave love bites in personal, inconspicuous places and sometimes on your neck

He's marking his woman 😌

When he gets suuuper horny, he likes to fuck you from behind, standing upright in front of the mirror. It's a specific kink he has of watching himself stretch you out as the length of his cock disappears inside you...

I can get behind that, lemme tell yaaa

I said he tends to be dominant, but female doms – fear not!

Shouta is quite flexible when it comes down to it and is kind of lazy, lmfao so he definitely has time for laying back, having the control taken away, and having his dick ridden

For him, it's really all about communication and what you're both comfortable with

I will say this, though: sometimes, his cat watches you while you're banging 😅😂

The first time it happened, you freaked out and refused to continue because – how could you??? But eventually, you just kind of got used to it 🤷‍♀️

The same way you've got used to it following you to the bathroom every time you go to take a shit 😭

So now, you just kind of laugh about it, which helps keep things a little lighter 🤗

After sex, he does like to snuggle, but you'll be lucky if he stays awake for more than 30 seconds it's one of the few times he actually can sleep well

If you're ever out and about, or even inside, and cold, he'll wrap you up in his clothes/scarf/blanket like a sushi roll like Eren wrapping up Mikasa in his scarf, all deadpan and everything 😐

It's not that often, but when he gets drunk, he gets all soft and emotional, and starts babbling about how he can't believe he got so lucky to be dating you, and that he's sure he hasn't done anything to deserve it mah heart

He's pretty sure he wants kids, but he doesn't feel like now is the right time, and is lowkey afraid that it's never going to feel like the right time

He also constantly doubts himself, wondering if he'd actually able to look after them and protect them the way a father should class 1-A got him second-guessing himself 🥺

Besides, it's not all about him. You clearly have a say in it too, and he doesn't want to force you into anything

Again: communication and comfort zones

Dating Aizawa definitely has its ups and downs, and it's not smooth sailing, but he's prepared to work for a life with you because he's found a connection with you that he hasn't feel with anyone else

He knows that you're both far from perfect, but hopes that, for once, you might just make something good, and make it last 🥰😇

© imo-chan-imagines 2020

#imo chan imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #aizawa shouta #headcanons #smut #aizawa shouta headcanons #aizawa shouta smut #reader x aizawa shouta #reader x aizawa shouta headcanons #reader x aizawa shouta smut #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bnha smut #mha smut #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x reader headcanons #aizawa shouta x reader smut #aizawa shouta x you #you x aizawa shouta

[moxfirefly]

This comes as result of an idea and going through some hard times as of late. The reader here has their issues but hey we aren’t inherently perfect and I like getting into that mindset and seeing what comes up. So consider this somewhat introspective piece when a ‘relationship’ maybe isn’t the best.

Mikey x Fem!Reader

Rated Mature/Angst/Feels (18+ Only)

“I am human and I need to be loved”

A lifespan isn’t enough to understand that love is a complicated emotion. It’s addicting caress can remain in ones soul for ages. Love is kind they say, but what of those moments where it’s not? When the heart strangles itself and you choke on desperation?

Love isn’t perfect, that very imperfection glued us to those we worship. That hurt can be addicting as well.

He’s aware of it, he knows that his innocence only hides a questioning.

Because Mikey has gotten so good at hiding those dark parts that linger like shadows in his brain. There’s pain behind that smile, there’s sadness hidden beneath the foundation he’s lain.

You see it, you’re aware of it.

You can’t help but feel ashamed you’re the cause of it.

You want to take ownership of it but every time your mouth opens that tightness in your jaw increases. Before the words can be processed you’re doing most of the speaking with your hands.

And your lips.

Mikey’s never denied you, the thought of rejection paralyzes him so profoundly he aches. But it would be unwise to state there isn’t any trace of doubt. He’s mindful of your distaste for love, that you aren’t a believer. He’s mindful of what cracks inside of him when you flirt your way through the day. He’s at the forefront but he isn’t unwise to the way you linger a hand on Leo’s arm or how your eyes light up when April walks into a room.

Your eyes have that same bright hue when he’s the target. When it’s the two of you and your fingers map out a path on his thigh. It’s so palpable in the air that surrounds the two of you when you suddenly crash into him and swallow his soul whole.

You’re greedy.

The first time you had kissed him he swore there was no way he could verbally describe what erupted inside of him. He remembers it clearly like a fond dream, the way you had pushed him into a darken corner. Your hands on his waist, pink tongue tasting orange crush and sweets.

He had been so shy it had melted you. His hands tentatively resting on hips. Lips merely following your lead. When you had stopped with your lips lingering so closely to his, you had simply giggled and asked him where the night could take you both.

Mikey knows what whiplash feels like, but emotionally this was his first time. He let it go, slowly watched whatever this had meant leave his grasp.

He lets you lead.

You’re so greedy.

He can’t blame you as much as he can blame himself. This isn’t the only time naturally, he could switch the memories like tv stations, often settling on his favorite ones.

He tries to avoid the ones that hurt.

You want to blame life, blame all past events that led you to develop a thick skin. It’s so impenetrable, but the dents are here and there scattered across two decades. Mikey sees the road map of damage, it hides behind your smile and your nonchalant attitude towards the tomorrow. He kinda likes it though, that you can build up a wall for whatever tries to infiltrate your barrier.

He’s addicted to the fact that you allow him in, that your guard goes down when he’s there. Mikey just wishes he had a clearer read, that whatever is happening could have a description a fucking name tag maybe. But soon enough you’re jumping into his open and awaiting arms, pressing yourself so flush against him and whispering how much you just missed him.

Mikey doesn’t miss how you stick like glue to him one particular night. The gangs there, everyone watching some horror flick that Casey had brought over. He can’t keep his eyes straight when you’re so warm next to him, tracing lazy circles on his palm before gripping it like it was some habit.

You were a habit basically, a tick that comforted him and somehow kept him grounded into this plain of existence. It’s a rush of blood to the head. Something that swims inside of his soul, wraps around him like ivy.

You wish it could be simple, to face up and just accept the cards laid out. But you were never one to just take it at face value. Easy just wasn’t in your vocabulary and well, it’s obvious that it’s not in Mikey’s wether by proxy or his own doing.

So when you quietly excuse yourself and feel Mikey’s blue orbs follow you, you obviously text him to come with after a minute or so.

The minute he follows into his and Raph’s room and finds you sitting on his bed with your legs crossed looking pleased as punch, he knows he’s so utterly screwed. Cause he’d do anything to have that image frozen in time and place, just you and that beautiful smile that robs him of thought and oxygen. Even as you beckon him closer with a gleam in your eye that means trouble and a hundred more questions for Mikey to stay up all day and night over.

He follows.

He comes to the foot of his bed and almost overloads when the tip of that beckoning finger runs a path over what would be his navel. Mikey swallows hard, breathing through his nostrils.

It guts you how he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Mikey honest to god admires you like living breathing art. He takes a sharp inhale when you press your face to his clothed crotch and moan at the sensation that greets you. Mikey can’t erase the image of you, looking up at him as you push down his shorts, lust and what he registers might be love in your e/c orbs.

Much less when you take him into your mouth and the heat rushes down your body to your core. Your red cheeks hollowing in and creating such a tightness that Mikey whimpers, one hand gripping the back of your head and the other somehow interlocking with yours. It’s the intimacy of it, with your eyes fluttering closed as you take him as deeply as you possibly can. How his fingers play with yours.

Mikey tries to mumble something coherent out, he wants to tell you that he’s close and he knows it’s proper etiquete to tell you. It’s actually sweet and you almost giggle with a mouthful of him even when you feel nails dig into the back of your head as Mikey tries to not moan too loudly.

The way your throat bobs, lips swollen with a sticky sheen to them. He’s punch drunk, loves struck when he cups your cheeks and kisses you, tasting himself and falling further down into the rabbit hole that’s become the two of you not questioning this.

And god he should question it before his mind keeps running every possible scenario that’s caused this to be so unidentifiable. Because after that night he’s got radio silence from you for four days. He feels like a ghost floating around his brothers, going from motion to motion until he decides to take that step.

He shows up at your apartment, contemplates knocking on that window for fifteen minutes but what can he say? What does he want to ask? What if it drives you and whatever this is away?

He caves, eyes not so bright when you pull apart the curtains and he’s met with the same look he’s been sporting these past few days. You do smile though, that smile that digs nails into his soul. You let him come in, already putting on a mask that fits too perfectly.

“What’s wrong...Are you mad at me?” Mikey asks tentatively like peeling a hangnail. You freeze on your way to the kitchen, looking down at your bare feet like the answer might sprout from beneath them. “Nothings wrong, was just busy is all” It’s a pathetic excuse and not entirely truthful because you’ve been stewing in your apartment knowing full well that the boy behind you has planted roots in your heart.

And it scares the shit out of you.

So you turn, that shield up so high that Mikey notices and the whiplash is hard when you close the distance and wrap your arms around his neck. “What? Miss me that much?” Your scent hits him like a fresh hit to an addict. Four days without the warmth of your skin burning him. Mikey wants to test that shield, destroy it with his bare hands and find the real you in there, he pulls back far enough to look into your eyes and drown in them.

He quietly accepts his fate right then and there, ready to hand over his heart into your hands and watch you squeeze. And you see it all, your chest tight and jaw set, you run a finger across his cheek in such soothing slow motion. You want to tell him that this isn’t worth the heartache and headache, that you won’t come around any time soon.

Instead, you start to strip off his gear, bit by bit, each carefully taken apart. You untie his sweater from around his waist, hands lingering and maping out every detail you want forever engraved in your brain. You grab his hand and put them on you, a silent agreement for him to do the same. Mikey strips you out of your hoodie, finding a sports bra beneath it, eyes glued to new skin as he kneels and hooks his fingers in your shorts and slides them down slowly.

You walk him to your room, hand tightly clasped around his and there’s no hesitation in your steps because you want this and he wants this but every question that’ll come from this will just have to wait. You truly do go about things the wrong way.

The innocent touching makes your heart twist, the way his blue eyes run over you like you’re stolen art and he’s got dibs on it. It’s so sweet, asking his permission with a look to strip you of your bra, to run his hands towards the newly exposed flesh. It guts you so deeply when he pulls you close against him and just holds you, cause it dawns on you that Mikey has never held somebody this intimately. You shiver with the way he circles your back in ghostly touches, just basking in what it feels to feel your skin so close to his.

“We don’t have to do this” ‘I don’t want to hurt you’

“It’s okay, I just...Don’t disappear on me like that please” Mikey feels you tighten your grip on him and it takes every inch of his resolve to not crumble and just say that he loves you, that he’s loved you from the moment you rested your head on his shoulder, from the moments you’ve kissed him and made his head so clouded with questions of ‘If’ and ‘maybe’ but he knows he won’t be met with the same words.

Maybe not now, or simply not at all.

So he holds you close, even as you start to tremble, feeling tears on his shoulder. You can’t say anything, you can’t say a single damn thing.

See I've already waited too long

And all my hope is gone

#I wanted to post it even as my heart keep breaking but I wanted all of you to have this #tmnt bayverse #tmnt michelangelo x female reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #michelangelo tmnt #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt mikey x reader #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #angst #ns*w

[thereisnochillinsideme]

The rain, Akaashi Keiji part two

I'm sorry it's been such a long time I've just had some stuff going on but here it is, part two. I also think @bakudummy asked to be tagged, if you didn't ask me to I'm sorry please tell me I'll take it off anyway enjoy! Akaashi was currently locked in a debate between himself and himself. While one side was telling him that it would be fine if he visited [Name] and Takahashi in normal clothing while the other was telling him that they weren’t close enough and that he was required to wear a three-piece suit. The first side then argued back that they might think he’s rude if he showed up for a cup of hot chocolate in formal wear. In the end, he decided that after picking [Name] and her cake off the street and getting her to Takahashi’s apartment, what he wore probably mattered the least to either of them right now and settled on a cotton T-shirt. He made his way out of his apartment and knocked on the door to his right, which was opened by Takahashi. He hadn’t usually seen her like this. She had changed out of the pencil skirt she so usually wore to work and was currently in a sweater and leggings. She also looked surprised to see Akaashi in anything but his work wear. She let him in and went back to the stove, where the milk for the hot chocolate was bubbling on the stove. He saw [Name] spread out on an armchair, now changed out of her wet clothes. She saw him and immediately perked up, changing her position to see him better. He took a seat on the couch across from her. She gave him a smile and immediately began speaking to him.

“Stoneface-san! Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better. How about you?”

She smiled. “I’m doing great! I got my cake, I got to meet you, I got to see Yo-chan, and now she’s making me hot chocolate!”

Akaashi smiled at the childlike elation she had at the situation she was in. She was an optimist to the bone.

He was a bit jealous of her, though he didn’t realize it. He was jealous of people like her. They didn’t have a care in the world, complete confidence in themselves. And people like him or Takahashi were following them around making sure nothing happened to them because, jaded and anxious as they were, they didn’t want that optimism to fade. It gave them strength too. It reminded him of the former captain of his high school volleyball team. Bokuto-san’s confidence was a force to be reckoned with and now there he was, playing professionally on a world stage.

Takahashi walked over with two mugs of hot chocolate, setting them on the coffee table that separated him and [Name]. [Name]’s smile grew wider upon seeing the drink and she happily picked it up and immediately took a big sip.

Immediately she started coughing.

“Ah barned mah tahnge.” She said, with her tongue hanging out.

Takahashi and Akaashi started laughing in unison as [Name] also began laughing with her tongue still hanging out.

“Why are you laughing? You burned your tongue?” Akaashi asked through chuckles.

“It is funny,” [Name] said through sips of cold water to soothe her tongue.

Time was spent happily drinking hot chocolate while [Name] told them jokes and stories.

Putting down his mug, Akaashi looked at [Name].

“[Name]-san, I’ve been meaning to ask your full name, as I didn’t get it when I met you.”

[Name] smiled. “[Last Name] [Name]”

Akaashi did a double take. “I’ve been calling you by your first name this whole time? That’s incredibly disrespectful as we don’t know each other well”

“It’s fine, Stoneface-san. I’ve never liked using my surname as it puts a formality barrier between me and who I’m talking to. Please use my first name.”

Akaashi nodded in acceptance. “So [Name], what do you do for work?”

She winked. “If I told you it would be no fun. It’s your job to guess. Your hint is that I’m in the creative field.” After many consecutive wrong guesses, [Name] changed the subject and started telling them what had happened to her at the train station that morning. As they laughed, Akaashi began to realize how much fun he was having.

It had been a long time since he had done anything like this. He maintained a strictly professional relationship with his coworkers and Bokuto-san was not free most of the time with having gone professional. He would come by and have a drink with Akaashi ever so often, but Bokuto-san usually found himself leaving early to spend more time with Shoyo. Akaashi didn’t mind that he was branching out and he knew that their adult life was definitely going to impact their friendship. However, it was not after he lost them that he realized just how much he cherished the carefree days on the volleyball team, how he would chase Bokuto-san around with an umbrella to stop him from getting wet in the rain.

It was probably why he spent so many late nights at work, trying to quiet his mind by occupying it. His high school friends were all busy with their own lives, he felt he should be as well.

“Stoneface-san?” He heard

He snapped out of his daze and saw [Name] staring at him, slightly concerned.

“Are you okay? Your stare was really blank and you didn’t laugh when I told you about when I threw a squid tentacle at the guy who came to collect my taxes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a bit tired. I also have some work due tomorrow, so do you mind if I take my leave?”

Takahashi looked at him, obviously concerned, but trying to hide it. “Yes of course, I’ll show you to the door.”

She walked him over to the door of the apartment and opened it, letting him go through.

“Thank you for looking after [Name] today, I’m sorry if she was a bit of an inconvenience. It was nice to have you both over, we should do it again sometime.”

Akaashi nodded, thanked her, and went inside his own apartment.

He didn’t mean to leave so abruptly, but he wasn’t lying, he did have work.

He made his way to the small desk by the window of his apartment and sat down, picking up the large, stapled sheet of paper by his window.

Today, his work was a bit more enjoyable than usual. He was editing one of his more favorite comics that was published in his magazine. Asuma no Sekai was a comic set in a demon world, with the main character being an incredibly lazy demon who preferred eating cake to doing her job. The crazy schemes she pulled to get out of doing her job were sometimes more work than doing the actual job and always made the reader laugh. Editing it was a more favorable part of Akaashi’s week and it never failed to lift his mood. The author was Sakurai Daisuke. He had never met the author in person as he usually sent someone else to pick up his manuscript, but he looked forward to meeting someone who was such a good mangaka.

After spending a couple hours reading, laughing, and editing the work, Akaashi went to bed as he had work the next morning.

[Name] had left on the first train that morning and though Akaashi was slightly mournful that he didn’t get to say goodbye, he continued on with his day like normal.

As the week went by, [Name] occupied Akaashi’s thoughts slightly more than a normal person would. He would pass by the cake shops in his area and wonder if she would enjoy the one in the display window. He was confused by why he was thinking about her so often, but chalked it up to the fact that there were a lot of cake shops in his area.

Later that week, on an afternoon while he was home, Akaashi got a call from his employee, Okomoto Chiyo. She sounded extremely distressed.

“Akaashi-san! I’m so so sorry to bother you!”

“It’s okay, what do you need?”

“My wife is sick and I’m home taking care of her. I was supposed to pick up Sakurai-san’s manuscript today, but Nanako’s been throwing up all day and I can’t afford to leave her now. Do you mind picking it up?”

Akaashi was slightly annoyed, as he had just gotten home. However, he knew that he couldn’t possibly ask his employee to leave her sick wife.

“It’s completely okay. May I have Sakurai-san’s address? At least I can finally meet him.”

“It’s xxx-xxx on the other side of the city. The train will be able to get you there really fast. Sakurai-san should have completed her manuscript by now.”

“Her?” Akaashi was confused

“Sakurai Daisuke is a pen-name. The author is female. She picked a male name to sound more ambiguous.”

“Oh, that comes as a bit of a surprise.”

“Thank you so much for doing this, Akaashi-san! I am forever grateful to you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Akaashi looked out his window and toward the train station which was a couple blocks away. It was raining.

As he turned, his eyes fell on a now-dry neon yellow umbrella. He must have forgotten to give it back to [Name].

He picked up the umbrella, put on a long brown coat, and ran out his apartment door.

He was able to make it onto the train last minute, sitting on the seat in relief. As the train moved along, he thought about what the author might be like.

Thinking about it now, it was fairly obvious that this author wasn’t like most of the male authors Akaashi’s company had published.

There was barely any fan service in the series and the author made sure to write her female characters just as realistic and flawed as her male characters. Most of the male authors drew one woman with an unrealistic body and made her show up every now and then to rip her clothes off and leave. Sakurai-san’s female characters had personalities and all different body shapes, some bigger or smaller, darker or lighter, more like the women he would see in the real world.

The train announced his stop and he walked out, looking at the paper where he jotted down the address.

He navigated his way through the twists and turns until he finally got to the apartment building.

He entered and went to the specified floor and found the correct door.

As he raised his hand to knock, Akaashi suddenly felt a bit nervous to meet this author who he borderline idolized, especially when he found out he was wrong about her gender the whole time.

Nevertheless, his hand tapped lightly on the door twice and he heard footsteps rush to open it.

What he saw behind the door was definitely not what he expected.

[Name] was peeking out, wearing a large animal onesie, holding a plate of cake with a plastic fork.

“Stoneface-san?"

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fics #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq x yn #akaashi x reader #keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #fukurodani x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

[theewildflowers]

dramione fanfic recs

I’ve fallen into the Dramione fanfiction hole lately due to a friend’s recent obsession with Dramione and Draco Malfoy tik tok, so I wanted share some favorite stories I’ve read, especially with those who are also new to the pairing. Many of the fics below are pretty popular within the fandom, but maybe there will be something new as well for those who come across this post.

I’ve included the rating and word count in parenthesis, and the fics are set in the magical universe unless otherwise noted. Please mind the tags when you click through—many fics may have triggers. Happy reading!

wait and hope by mightbewriting (M, 95k) “Harry,” Hermione began, voice very controlled, but she could feel the blade of panic slicing at her vocal cords. “Why was Draco Malfoy just screaming bloody murder about his,” and the word almost strangled her as she said it, “wife?” Harry's green eyes blew wide. Healer Lucas pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly displeased with the recent series of events. “He was referring to you, my dear,” she said. “That was the other question you got wrong. Your name is Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy.”

Part of the Wait and Hope story universe. Draco’s POV, Beginning and End, is a WIP. (I’ve read and reread Wait and Hope multiple times in a few weeks span, so it’s safe to say that it’s my favorite Dramione story universe.)

the politician’s wife by Pir8fancier (M, 66k) This story is set twenty-three years after the fall of Voldemort. Our main characters are Ministry employees, middle-aged, and the majority of them not very happy. (This was the first Dramione fic I’ve ever read and is still one of my favorites)

the right thing to do by LovesBitca8 (E, 176k) Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, but she was a stupid girl. Part of the Rights and Wrongs story universe (highly recommend Draco’s POV, All the Wrong Things, as well).

remain nameless by HeyJude19 (E, WIP) The monotony of Draco’s daily routine had become both a lifeline and a noose. But this new habit of grabbing coffee with Hermione Granger is quickly becoming a reason to get out of bed and is unfortunately forcing him to re-evaluate his inconsequential existence.

seeker fit by selinyu and etlithien (T, 2.6k) “Will the Head Girl grace the pitch with her presence for today’s match?” The timbre of Malfoy’s cool lilting drawl slid down Hermione’s spine. I recommend all the fics in the SenLithien Dramione Collaboration collection.

breath mints / battle scars by Onyx_and_Elm (E, 148k) For a moment, she's almost giddy. Because Draco Malfoy's been ruined by this war and he's as out of place as she is and — yes, he has scars too. He's got an even bigger one. She wonders whether one day they'll compare sizes.

apple pies and other amends by ToEatAPeach (M, 76k) It’s not until she’s brought a basil and strawberry sponge cake to Neville Longbottom and his new girlfriend, Hannah Abbott, a dozen rhubarb hand-pies to Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood, and another basket of ganache-covered muffins to Dean and Seamus, that Hermione admits to herself what she’s actually doing:  she’s making a thing of this. It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And she has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.

clean and marked by olivieblake (M, 118k and 178k) Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. "You'll find I'm very surprising." Basically a sixth year retelling.

the best of me by MrsRen (E, 148k) Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.

fortuitous by MrsRen (M, 93k) Recently divorced Draco doesn't believe in the ideology of having one true love. He certainly doesn't expect to meet his match in a Halloween themed coffee shop, but fate has a peculiar way of giving you just what you need.

bring him to his knees by Musyc (E, WIP) Draco is on the case of a murderer, but to investigate, he needs a fake relationship - and a kink club play partner. When Hermione volunteers to take the role, both do their best to maintain the lie without letting each other know the truth: neither of them are acting.

looking glass by kyonomiko (M, 99k) No one knows what happened to Draco Malfoy in the final battle, but, when his portrait shows up at Harry Potter's house, it's readily assumed he didn't make it. Hermione's perspective on the wizard starts to change as she learns more about who he really was. The more she knows, the more tragic his apparent demise seems to be.

isolation by bex-chan (E, 264k) He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!"

thirty-five by raven_maiden (M, 2.3k) It's Draco Malfoy's birthday, and you'd think he'd have some say in the matters concerning his birthday. Then again, the will of four other Malfoys is hard to overcome. Part of Meet the Malfoys collection.

apples & cream by LovesBitca8 (E, 1.4k) She could have taken her things and gone through his Floo without a word. She could have ignored him on Monday morning, as though last night had been no more than a fever dream and too much Firewhisky. But she’d come back to bed.

universal truths by scullymurphy (E, 145k, pride & prejudice inspired AU) Hermione Granger is a woman of intelligence and spirit. Draco Malfoy is a man of wealth and privilege. When they meet again, a decade after the second great wizarding war—they are not impressed. But when circumstances throw them together, dislike turns to attraction, attraction turns to passion and passion may turn into something more... If they can stay out of their own way and let love take its course.

my brown-eyed girl by PacificRimbaud (M, 2k) "Give it up, Granger. We've had our N.E.W.T. results for a week. What can possibly have earned your continued academic devotion in the last four days of term?" Draco and Hermione have a lazy snuggle in the grass behind the Quidditch pitch.

bite marks by provactive_envy (E, 19.4k, muggle AU) Draco’s mouth falls open. He clutches his cookie and ignores the shower of crumbs littering his grey cashmere fingerless gloves. He can’t decide if he wants to fuck this girl or fight with her. Maybe both? Maybe at the same time?

thirteenth night by Nelpher (M, 78k) When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever.

familiar faces, worn out places by LovesBitca8 (E, 7k) “You are at St. Mungo’s. You were in a coma.” He looks me over again, taking a pause. “I am a Healer here now,” he says, like it explains something. My fingers stretch, drifting across his sleeve. He looks down, like I’ve thrown mud at him. Forcing my vocal chords together for the first time, I whisper, “What’s your name?”

bone mortar by mightbewriting (M, 10k, muggle AU) Draco clenched his teeth, forcing sharp, shallow breaths through his nose as he ripped open the door to his usual lecture hall only to find— someone at his desk. Well, he supposed it was technically less his desk and more the desk as he didn’t actually own this particular classroom. But since he’d taught in it for the last four semesters in a row he at least felt like he’d earned common law ownership of some sort.

of mongolian fireflies and russian sharpclaws by barnettdidit (T, 37k) As colleagues for the F.A.U.C.E.T. (Fetching And Uncovering Creatures Experiencing Terror) department, Draco and Hermione have had their fair share of arguments. When they face their hardest case yet, mixed with an odd swarm of fireflies that glow in the colour according to how they feel about each other, Hermione is struggling to keep a straight mind.

a muggle-born magic by Musyc (M, 50k, regency era AU) Physician's daughter Hermione Granger finds herself in need of a way to pay off her father's debts after his death. Draco Malfoy, retired from the politics of the Isolationists, a group of pure-bloods bent on separating 'true' magic from lesser folk, finds himself in need of a tutor for his son, Scorpius, who appears to be incapable of magic and must learn to survive in a world without it. Draco also needs a wife and mother for Scorpius, to satisfy a promise to his unwell father. After she saves his son from an attack by Isolationists, Draco hires the Muggle-born Miss Granger for the former, and after a riot in Vauxhall Gardens and a scandalous discovery made by his mother, weds that selfsame Muggle-born for the latter. While making the best of her marriage of (in)convenience, Hermione discovers that Scorpius' history of wild imaginings and dreams is more than just imagination. As she attempts to teach him about magical abilities no one expected he would ever have, she and Draco work together to raise Scorpius and learn to trust each other.

aurelian by BittyBlueEyes (T, 255k) Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione's quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

malfoy shrugged by uselessenglishmajor (E, 11k) February 14th is just another day at the office for Hermione Granger. Shame no one else got the memo.

distance by In_Dreams (T, 138k) She’s a novice Unspeakable trying to earn her stripes. He’s a shafted Auror desperate to prove himself. When they end up forced together on a shared assignment, neither is willing to back down. But when the mission pulls them into an ancient world of mystery and adventure, they find themselves depending on each other in a race against time.

nonscents by In_Dreams (M, 10k) Granger's Amortentia smells like him and Draco can't understand why. More importantly, he can't let her figure it out.

correspondence by olivieblake (T, 5k) Every year, Draco insists that Hermione take a picture for their Christmas card. Why? Hell if she knows, but if it will make him happy, so be it.

sandalwood and gardenias by secondbutton (E, 9k) A balanced fragrance of sandalwood and something musky and earthy followed him like a shroud. Draco Malfoy smelled like a magical forest’s best kept secret. Like the moment following a storm when the sun peeks back over the clouds and living beings stop what they’re doing and pause to marvel at being able to roam outside again. It was a crisp top note with more robust undertones, and just a hint of sweetness. She thought she might love the scent if it lived on anyone else other than him.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #fanfiction recs #fanfic recs #little to no ron weasley bashing #dramione fanfics #dramione fanfic recs #fic recs #dramione fic recs

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 48

Title: Alone 

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip​

He is content and sated under the familiar weight of her body; feather light in comparison to his much bulkier, muscly frame. Enjoying the warmth that clings to her smooth, naked flesh and the smell that lingers in her hair; a mixture of honey and coconut and the slight tinge of sweat. An arm tightly and protectively curled around her as she rests atop him; a single, heavy leg draped over both of hers, a palm cupping her back of her head as the tips of his fingers gently massage at her scalp. Short, dark hair fanned out over his chest, eyes closed and the top of her head tucked under his chin as her fingers blindly trace the tattoos that grace his left shoulder and the side of his neck. It feels incredible to experience this with her; the quiet aftermath of long and attentive lovemaking. Deviating from the normal frantic and desperate pace; punishing thrusts replaced by slow and steady deep movements that effortlessly pushed her up the bed and had her entire body arching underneath him.

It had been what they’d both needed; something more loving and meaningful. A search for absolution through whisper soft, lingering kisses and warm, adoring hands immersed in exploration. Using their bodies to speak for them; the pursuit of pleasure serving as a hopeful quest for forgiveness. Seeing it in those enormous, dark eyes whenever he’d pull back to look down at her; glistening with a mixture of want, desire, and trust. Her fingertips reaching up to push sweat dampened hair off his forehead and out of his eyes; his face cradled in her palms as she lifted her head from the mattress and covered his mouth with hers in a gentle kiss. It was sex that surpasses the act itself. Profound intimacy that comes with deep rooted knowledge and enjoyment of one another’s bodies. Always in sync, forever communicating with one another; a level that stretches far beyond just the physical feelings of lust, want, and need.

He’d never experienced that before; the emotions that both overwhelm and humble you. A body AND mind connection so strong and intense that it takes your breath away and has the ability to bring you to your knees. It’s what makes each coupling so incredible regardless of the style they agree upon. Whether it’s aggressive and bruising or quick and uncomplicated. Or the unhurried exploring and employing of the various ‘tricks’ and kinks that they both enjoy. And those long nights of long and lasting love making; the lazy kisses and the wandering hands and the bodies brought to the edge many times before finally being allowed to let go. Regardless of how it happens, there’s a deeper intimacy that he’d never before been privy to. An adoration and respect that is forever present; despite the degrading words (always at her consent, always agreed upon BEFORE beginning), or the hand around her throat, or the fingers biting into soft flesh of her hips and her ass, or the fist tightly and painfully gripping her hair. Love is always there; finding its way to the surface and communicated whether it be through their eyes or touch or in words themselves. So many things that are said in so many different ways; reaching a level where neither of them need to speak in order to get their wants, needs, and feelings across.

It’s an experience far beyond anything he’d ever encountered before. One that he’d actually never considered; long ago relegating sex to nothing more than a chance to escape from the stressors of the world and to reach a well needed release. In Dhaka he’d realized something was different between them; their bodies so easily and effortlessly responding to one another and merging together as if they’d known each other for years. There was an ease and a comfort between them; no awkward moments of silence afterwards, no feelings of regret, no embarrassment surrounding how out of control both had let themselves be. It was a tiny, sweat slick body cuddling into his; his initial hesitation greeted by her sheepish and almost apologetic smile. And when she’d gone to move away -afraid that she’d crossed a line between them- he’d simply reached out for her; curling an arm around her waist and pulling her tightly into him. Her face finding that spot that quickly became its favourite resting place ; settled in between his neck and shoulder with the tip of her nose pressed against the side of his throat. Neither of them speaking as they revelled in the aftermath; the feelings of peace and contentment that come after spending months without any form of real physical contact with someone. Enjoying one another’s presence; the way her fingers found and traced his tattoos while his slowly combed through her hair.

He’d known when he hadn’t been scared off by the gentler and more meaningful moments that he was entering uncharted territory. Caught up in a mess of tangled sheets and naked limbs; enjoying the smell of her hair and the sensation of her body pressed against his and her warmth breath that tickled his skin. He actually LIKED her; beyond the pangs of lust and the yearnings of want and need and the incredible sex that those things had led to. That bubbly and bright personality she possessed despite the enormity of the situation surrounding them; optimistic and cheerful even with the dangers hanging over their heads. Her smile; broad and beautiful and crinkling the corners of her eyes and the bridge of her nose. The sound of her voice; childlike and slightly high pitched, yet often so assertive and authoritative. That tiny body encompassing a huge personality; social and friendly yet demanding and forceful when need be. Possessing a strength that went far beyond the physical.

It’s one thing to have muscles and a powerful build and combat training. It's another to be mentally sound and prepared for anything thrown in your direction.

Even in those immediate days after their initial coupling, he’d considered the possibility of more. The chance of getting to know her better outside of the job; away from the stress and the worry and the fear of the unknown dangers lingering darkened corners. She’d already shown that his baggage and his issues weren’t a deal breaker; easily -and uncharacteristically- confiding in her about his drinking problem and his addiction to pain meds and the painful mistakes of the past. Not only the monsters and demons that haunted him over the death of his son, but the horrible decision he’d made in the months leading up to it. He’d told her about his mother dying when he was young and the nightmare he’d been left with; an alcoholic father that physically and mentally abused him. His failed marriage; a cheating, emotionally absent spouse that had deserved way more than he had given her. The horrors of the things he’d seen during his time in the military and what he’d done on the job; taking lives in order to save his own and that of his clients. His death wish; the hope that a stranger’s bullet would take him down because he’d been too chicken to do the job himself.

Everything had come pouring out of him; in the same way that she’d been so open and honest about her own life and failed marriage and the monster of a husband that had inflicted numerous traumas upon her. Both of them simply listening and absorbing the truths and confessions; neither judging the other for the things they’d done or the things that still haunted them. It was the first time he’d ever seen genuine sympathy in someone’s eyes; he’d gotten used to recognizing pity and disgust over the years. But the way she’d watched his face as he spoke and then tenderly cleared tears from his cheeks with gentle fingertips had told him everything he’d needed to know. She was different; unique and beautiful and put in his path for a reason. And IF the job went smoothly and they managed to get out of Bangladesh, he was going to make it happen; transform nothing into something. Willing to welcome her into his home and travel to Colorado to see hers. Wanting to know everything he possibly could about her; hungry for more time together and curious about just where things would end up. A long distance relationship perhaps; weeks or even months spent visiting each other, trips taken together, holidays enjoyed with one another. Suddenly he had a list of things to think forward to; the death wish suddenly pushed to the back of his mind and all but forgotten about.

Her fingers abandon their task. Halting the slow and methodical trace of his tattoos in favour lightly dragging a nail along the scar near his left shoulder; thin and faded and running vertically for several inches. An old injury; shrapnel from a roadside bomb in Kandahar that had made its way under the strap of his kevlar vest and left him a panicked and bleeding mess in the middle of the desert. She’s spent years exploring all of his blemishes and imperfections; committing each one to memory and able to blindly find each and every one. But it’s the internal scars that she attempts to fix; deep and jagged, some still open and festering. Every gentle touch, every whispered loving affirmation, each word of praise, all working together to heal him. Or to at least help him forget, even temporarily.

She peppers his collarbone with kisses. Slowly travelling from one shoulder to the other and then back again, stopping at his Adam’s apple and then moving up his throat and over the underside of his chin. Finishing with a chaste peck. Capturing his bottom lip between her teeth; giggling when he gives a dramatic frown.

Tangling his fingers in her hair, he presses a kiss to her forehead; eyes briefly closing as he breathes in the soft, familiar scent that clings to her hair. “You good?”

A gentle smile plays on her lips as she nods. “You?”

“I think it’s safe to say I am. Even though I swear I went blind for about a minute.”

It’s a feat in itself when you manage to hold out THAT long. Approaching that much needed release several times and then backing off and starting from scratch; rebuilding that pressure and tension in your stomach and in the small of your back until it becomes physically painful and you simply can’t continue with the self inflicted torture. Those moments leading to completion frantic and desperate; hard and punishing thrusts and animalistic noises emanating from somewhere deep in your chest. The orgasm had been extremely powerful and seemed to encompass every muscle, tendon and ligament in his body. Leaving him a perspiration soaked mess; panting heavily and every inch of his tall and muscular frame trembling.

“If it makes you feel any better, I couldn’t feel my feet for about ten minutes.”

“Makes my ego feel pretty good. Knowing I could get THAT kind of response from you.”

“When it comes to sex, your ego should be the healthiest on the planet. Because you, husband, know how to get shit done. And you get it done very, very, VERY well.”

“You still going to be saying that thirty years from now? When I don’t last as long anymore? I don’t want to disappoint you; have you start looking for someone that can get ‘er done.”

“I have no reason to doubt that you will be just as amazing then as you are now. That kind of stamina? I can’t see that disappearing. EVER. And there’s no way you’d forget all those skills, so…”

“The way my brain is? Add in some dementia…”

“Muscle memory, Tae. Your body will remember. I have no reason to doubt that. And definitely no reason to EVER look for anyone else. You’re it for me. My one and only. My always and forever. So if you got a problem with growing old and gray and senile with me…”

“Definitely no problem on my end. It’s what I’ve been planning and hoping for since the day I put the first baby in you.”

Grinning, she fidgets with the chain around his neck; taking the pendant it bears between her forefinger and thumb; the pad of the latter brushing against the smooth surface. Never a jewellery type of guy, it’s as elaborate as he’ll ever get; a simple hammered copper disk with their initials and that infamous date on the Sultana Kamal bridge almost thirteen years ago. When their old lives ended and their new ones began. “So you were expecting that were you? Did you have some dastardly plan in Dhaka to knock me up? Keep me barefoot and pregnant for the next seven years?”

“Okay so maybe it wasn’t right when I put Millie in ya. But when you told me about her. Shortly after I asked the stupidest fucking question a guy could ever possibly ask.”

“It wasn’t a stupid question. You had every right to ask it; wonder if it really was yours. I mean, if I’d jump into bed with you that easily, what was there to say I wouldn’t with anyone else? Could have been old habit, right? Could have been something I’d been doing on the regular. Banging mercenaries.”

“I don’t know if I thought THAT. It’s not like I thought you were putting out for every guy you worked with. I was just...I don’t know...surprised. Things were happening damn quick. Those five days, the things we were both feeling, what went down on the bridge. It was quite the ride. One I’d definitely do again with you.”

“It was a whirlwind, that’s for sure. I wasn’t exactly surprised though. About Millie. I mean, we weren’t exactly careful. At all. That surprises me more than anything, actually. That neither of us even thought of protection. I mean, once I can see. The being caught up in the initial moment. But the days after? Neither of us considered we weren’t being safe?”

“I considered it. I just didn’t give a shit. I know that sounds bad. Pretty fucking selfish, actually.”

“I always wondered if maybe we didn’t expect to get out there. That deep down we knew something was going to go wrong so why bother? We didn’t acknowledge feeling or thinking about it, but maybe it was there. Underneath everything.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I was just having too much fun and my hormones and my cock were totally in charge and wouldn’t let my brain think about condoms and shit like that.”

“That could be it too,” she muses, and curls two fingers around the chain. “And I was just so blinded by lust and potential love that I couldn’t think straight. You just disabled any common sense and rationality. Like you have been for the last twelve and half years.”

“Oh, so it’s all my fault, huh? That your brain wasn’t stronger than your hormones? You’re going to blame that on me?”

“No one else to blame it on. Who else transformed me into a horny, nymphomaniac mess? Who is responsible for totally making me go against my ‘I’ll never get married again. I’ll never trust another man’ way of thinking? I WAS hell bent on being Miss Independent, I don’t need no man. And then you came along…”

“You do realize you’re still those things, yeah? Just because you let me take care of you and provide for you, doesn’t mean you’re not capable of doing it all yourself. If you had to. You’re strong, Me. Strong as hell. Probably the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

“Other than when you look in the mirror?”

“You have got me beat in the strong department by a wide margin. You know you could, right? Handle all of this on your own? If you had to?”

“I like to think I could.”

“I KNOW you could. And you need to realize it, too. Just in case…”

“We are NOT going down that path, Tyler. Not now. Not ever. Maybe I could do it on my own. But I don’t want to. I don’t even want to consider it. So could we NOT go there? Please?”

“We won’t go there,” he promises, then lightly grips her hair and pulls her into a kiss. Long and slow and soft; her naked body brushing against his and a soft sigh escaping her lips.

She’s smiling as she lays her forearm along his collarbone, resting her chin upon it as she peers up at him. “I know you’re okay. But are WE okay?”

“That’s a weird thing to ask considering what we just spent an hour doing.”

“Not exactly the way we should go about apologizing to each other. Isn’t that something we’ve been trying NOT to do? Wasn’t that one of the big things Doctor Klein has been working on us with? NOT using sex for comfort.”

“That’s NOT what we were doing. Maybe an apology here and there, but…”

“You don’t think it’s weird? That we fight and we still resort to making up through sex?”

“Okay, I’m going to use a really sappy and corny term, so please don’t hold it over my head for the rest of my life. But THAT? What went down a little while ago? That wasn’t sex. Or fucking. That was making love. Simple as that. Big difference, don’t you think? Between that and what we usually get up to?”

“Definitely a difference. A huge one.”

“So maybe we used it as a way to apologize for the shit that went down earlier. Sometimes things are better expressed without using words. You know how hard I struggle with that sometimes; saying the right things and getting my point across. So if there’s an easier way to get things across to you…”

“Easier and much more enjoyable, you mean. I know how uncomfortable talking about the ‘feels’ makes you. But just so you know? When you DO do it? Open up about things? Just let everything out? It’s beautiful and it’s genuine and there’s nothing for you to be embarrassed by. I’m the last person you should feel embarrassed around.”

“It’s just who I am. A part of me I can’t get rid of, I guess. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s ALL me.”

“Regardless, I just want you to know the way you say things? In that very Tyler way of yours? I like it. Seeing and hearing that side of you. But I don’t expect it. I don’t want you being uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want. And your way of apologizing a little while ago? One of your best yet.”

“You definitely weren’t complaining. Well, except for when you’re getting pissed that I was dragging shit out.”

“Frustrated, not pissed. But the ending more than made up for it, that’s for sure.”

Smiling, he places a kiss on her forehead and then drops a hand to her lower back; palm flat against her skin, fingertips resting on the cheek of her ass. The other hand slips from her hair and settles between her shoulders; a gentle pressure pulling her tightly into him.

“I’ve always liked this with you,” she says, and places her chin on his chest. A hand resting lightly on the top of his head and her fingers playing with his hair. “The after stuff. Not that I’m saying there’s something wrong with the BEFORE stuff. Because there definitely isn’t. But the after stuff is nice. It always has been. Just being like this with you. Comfortable and relaxed and being in your arms. It’s always where I feel the safest. ALWAYS.”

“You’re safe even if you’re NOT in them, you know that right? That I’d never let anything happen to you..Whether you’re in my arms or not. I meant what I said, Me. About protecting no matter what. Against anyone and anything.”

“I’ve never doubted your ability to do that. Not once. Even when you were busted up and trying to get back on your feet, I knew you’d find a way to keep me safe. That you’d stop at nothing to make sure that happened. But when I’m IN your hands, it’s this whole other experience in itself. I’ve never felt that before. Being that at ease and comfortable and feeling like nothing can touch me. I never realized I even NEEDED to feel that way. Until you.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t think I COULD feel anything. Until you came along.”

“Pleasant surprise, huh? When you realize you really were still alive inside?”

d

“A VERY pleasant one, actually. Things I was feeling? For you? I’d never felt those things before. For anyone.”

“Not even your ex? I mean, you loved her at one point in time. She was your wife. The mother of your son.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t love her. I did. But it comes nowhere close to the way I love you. I can’t describe THAT. I just know what it feels like.”

“It’s profound and it’s all encompassing. It’s beautiful and terrifying all at once. Sometimes, it’s even physically painful.”

“You know…” he lays a palm against her forehead and pushes his hand through her hair. “...that’s pretty damn accurate, actually.”

“I didn’t think I could feel that way either. I didn’t think it was even possible. To love someone that much. Do you think this is what people mean? When they say love is sometimes a blessing AND a curse?”

“Maybe. But I like to think it’s more a blessing than anything else.”

“Me too.” She wriggles further down his body; placing the top of her head under his chin. Hand sliding to his rib cage; fingers easily finding and beginning the trace of the tattoo that decorates his skin. “You know what I was thinking about? How freaked out you seemed; the first time I snuggled into you in Dhaka.”

“I wasn’t freaked out.” He repeatedly grazes his knuckles up and down the length of her spine, the pad of his thumb ghosting over soft skin. “I just wasn’t into that. I didn’t exactly sow my wild oats with women that were into that sort of thing. I fucked them, I left. That was the arrangement.”

“None of them ever wanted you to stay the night? Not a single one ever got attached to you? BEYOND sex?”

“Maybe a few. Couple of them thought maybe they could scoop me up and get me out of the life. Away from the game.”

“Did you ever consider it? Taking them up on it? Letting yourself get scooped up?”

“Nope. I wasn’t at that point in my life. I was happy being the way I was. I didn’t like any of them in THAT way. I just wanted to get my dick wet, simple as that. I didn’t want anything more. Besides, even if I DID, I wasn’t in any place to get into any of that. Wouldn’t have been fair to them, you know? I was way too big of a mess. Way beyond anything they could have fixed.”

“And no feels? Towards any of them? I know some of them were just meant to be one night stands. But what about the ones you would go back to? You had a handful of those stashed all over the world. You didn’t feel anything for them?”

“Nope. They made my dick hard, that’s it. I wasn’t in the market for anything else, Me. Not companionship, not a relationship.”

“Just an escape. Get away from it all for a while. Forgetting about things. Just concentrate on the there and then.”

He nods.

“And not one single feel?”

“I didn’t exactly LET myself feel. And even if I had been at that point, none of them were what I would have wanted as a permanent thing. They were nice enough ladies; attractive, fairly smart, established. But just not what I would have been happy with. Then I met you…”

“And it all just changed? Out of the blue? No rhyme or reason to it?”

“You were the first person that made me actually FEEL things. Who made me realize I wasn’t a shit human being and that I still had a lot of living left to do. You were different. You were this tiny little thing with this massive personality. You looked so wee and so fragile and you were anything BUT. You were a challenge; you weren’t a pushover and you couldn’t be intimidated. And I liked that. ALL of it. You had so much light and so much optimism despite everything you’d been through. Despite what you’d seen on the job. And strong. So fucking strong.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re attracted to strong, assertive, aggressive women,” Esme concludes.

“What I’m saying is that I’m attracted to YOU. No one else.”

She presses a kiss to his left pec. “So I’m a keeper, in other words.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders , he rolls over onto his side, effortlessly bringing her with him and then tucking her tightly into his chest. A smile curving his lips and his eyes closing as he buries his face in her hair. “Yup.”

*****

“I’m scared,” she says several minutes later, effectively snapping him out of the beginnings of sleep. Still lying on his side with her body pressed against his; a heavy leg draped over her top thigh and their heads sharing the same pillow.

His fingers find her hair; combing through the dark tresses, palm settling at the nape of her neck. “What are you scared of?”

“That we’re going to end up right back where we were. Before Nathan did what he did. Before you got sucked back into things. Before Australia, even.”

“Babe, either I’m really tired, or you're speaking in riddles. Because I have no clue where you're going with this. Talk to me like I’m a five year old; break it down for me.”

Pulling back to look at him, she lays a hand on the nape of his neck; fingernails lightly scraping against the bottom of his hairline. “Before we moved back, we were still struggling. A LOT. We’d come a long way, but we still weren’t communicating properly and we were keeping things from each other and we were fighting all the time. I HATED it; being that way with you. Loving you so much yet being so frustrated and worried and frightened that we weren’t going to make it. And right now? The way things have been over the past week and a half? I’m starting to get worried that we’re falling back into old habits. And I don’t like it. At all.”

“Neither do I. I hate the thought of it. But I didn’t think things are that bad. I mean, we’re both going through some pretty heavy shit. But I don’t think it’s anything like it was before. Not even close.”

“We’ve been arguing. A lot. Even the kids have mentioned it; that we’re fighting more and it reminds them of how things used to be. The first three? They remember ALL of that. They were there; hearing us argue, watching us be so angry with each other. And it’s done a number on them and I feel so fucking guilty for that. That we didn’t at least try and rein things in. For their sake.”

“Definitely not one of my prouder moments, that’s for sure,” Tyler admits. “All the shit they had to hear; all the times we were mean and horrible to each other. I know I always say I wouldn’t go back in time and fix things because it would fuck everything else up. But THAT? Letting them know just how hard things were? I’d definitely change that.”

“And Addie is terrified that something is going to happen. Between us. She brings it up at least once a day. Asks if we hate each other and if you’re going to go and live somewhere else when we get back home. She’s FIVE. She shouldn’t be worrying about stuff like that.”

“She’s also extremely sensitive. Talk above a certain level and she thinks we’re fighting. I can’t even raise my voice around her. You know what she’s like; how vulnerable she is sometimes.”

“I just hate that she even feels that way. That she’s so worried that things are going to fall apart, I mean, they’re not, right? Going to fall apart?”

“Babe…” his hand slips to her cheek, gently cradling it as he presses a kiss to her lips. “....things are fine. WE’RE fine. I’m not going anywhere. Just because we’re a little on edge and we fight once in a while, doesn’t mean there’s problems. It just means we’re going through some shit and we need to get home and work on things. That’s it. So we argue? Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. That I don’t love you.”

“I just hate it. Feeling like we’re slipping. That things are going back to THAT. And I worry if it slips any further…”

“We’re fine,” he assures her, and kisses her again; lips lingering against hers. “Everything is going to be okay. Nothing we can’t get past. We just gotta stick together. Not let anything or anyone fuck us up. That’s it. United front. Me and you against the world.”

Smiling, she drags her knuckles along the edge of his jaw; bristles of his beard tickling her skin. “Stronger together than we are apart.”

“Always have been. You know who ALSO said that today? Your son.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific. I have four of them.”

“Your oldest one. We had a little talk. After you took off. He brought up that same thing. That we’re stronger if we stick together.”

“He’s definitely been listening. And watching. He’s starting to sound even more like you. In so many different ways.”

“He’s going to be a good man, that kid. No doubt about it.”

“That’s because he has a good man in his life. An AMAZING man. And role model.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know about that. That’s pushing it, I think.”

“Think about it,” Esme gently implores. “ TJ remembers what things were like before. How WE were before. When things were so hard and I’m sure it seemed like we hated each other and couldn’t stand to be around one another. He remembers when you left. Six months of his life without you under the same roof. And before you say anything…” She places two fingers against his lips to prevent him from speaking. “...that was in no way a cheap shot against you and I am NOT putting the blame on you. We had a lot of issues and neither of us seemed to want to fix them. But he DOES remember all of that. And now? Now he sees how different you are. How you treat me. He sees how much you love me and respect me and how you’ll do anything to protect me. He IDOLIZES you, Tyler. He wants to be just like you. In every way possible.”

“But I don’t want that for him. To be like me. I want so much more for him.”

“There’s nothing wrong with who you are. I don’t know why you can’t see that. Why you can’t hear the words that are coming out of my mouth. You are NOT a bad person. You've made bad mistakes. We’ve ALL made them. You’re not the monster you think you are.”

“I don’t want him following in my footsteps.”

“Be a mercenary, you mean.”

He nods. “That’s the last thing I want for him. That kind of life. Because the things I’ve seen and heard and the things I’ve had to do? I don’t wish those on anyone. Look what it’s done to me, Esme. And I’m not talking the broken bones or the getting shot or stabbed or any of that shit. I’m talking about what it’s done to me MENTALLY. It has fucked me up. You know that.”

“First off, you are NOT fucked up. You’re flawed. So am I. You don’t love me any less, do you? Because of my issues? My imperfections?”

“These aren’t just small issues. Tiny imperfections. They’re…”

“Do you?” she softly interjects. “Love me any less? Knowing what I struggle with?”

“Of course not. There’s nothing that could make me love you less. NOTHING.”

“And I feel that same way about you. So do your kids. And you know what, I don’t want him in that life either. I don’t want him being a mercenary. But he’s TEN. And all he really thinks about is how cool and exciting it is that dad gets to travel places and kick bad guys’ asses. He’s not thinking about the things the job has done to you. He’s a kid. His mind doesn’t work that way. He was five when you were in the hospital. He probably doesn’t even remember most of it. Especially the worst times. All he knows is that dad goes away and he helps people and sometimes, the bad guys die. It’s just the way it is. That’s all that matters to him. That, and that you come home safe and sound.”

“But there’s so much more to it. So much. And I don’t want him finding those things out first hand.”

“If he keeps going on about it when he’s older, THEN we tell him. Or you tell him. But right now he is still a little boy and his mind romanticizes and glorifies what you’ve done. What you still do. He’ll change his career about a hundred times before he’s eighteen. I know I did.”

“It's just not a life I want for him. For any of them.”

“If the time comes where ANY of them are considering that life, then we do something about it. But right now? They’re all still so young. They have so much time ahead of him. And I wasn’t talking about that; the mercenary side of you. Because you are more than that man. WAY more. You’re a husband and you’re a father and a grandfather. And believe me, those things matter more than you being a mercenary when it comes to your kids.”

“I just want to set a good example. That’s ALL I want.”

“And you ARE setting it. They all see how you are, Tyler. They see how you treat me. How you love me. Respect me. ADORE me. What more could you want for your boys? Do you know that that’s teaching them? Seeing you that way? It’s showing how they should be when they grow up. With their own partners. And that’s huge, babe. HUGE.”

“I guess I never thought about it. I just do it. I just act on how I feel about you. That’s it.”

“And it’s a beautiful thing; when you act on it. They see this big, strong man being so loving and gentle and attentive. What could be better than that, in their eyes? Their dad being that way with their mum? It makes them realize that even the bad asses have a heart. And that’s okay to use that heart. For good.”

“They also see me being an emotional wreck sometimes. So…”

“And there’s nothing wrong with THAT, either. So what? You get emotional. You cry. You’re a human being. Not a machine. And isn’t that we want for our boys? To be strong and protective when they need to, but soft and sweet and caring ALL the time? I know that’s what I want for them. There's so many things I want for them. Things that will make them good men.”

“Am I? A good man?”

“A good man who’s made bad choices and who’s had a hard life. Who’s learned from his mistakes and always tries to fix things and be better. You’re a good man and a great husband and an even better father. Think about what you’re teaching the girls. When they see you emotional. When they see you loving me. It’s showing them what kind of man they should want. That they deserve that kind of love and they should never settle for less. They’ll look for someone like you. And I know you’ll argue and say that’s not a good thing, but it IS. It’s a VERY good thing.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words; blinking back the threatening tears and swallowing noisily around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat.

“You ARE a good man. Regardless of what your brain says. And I hope one day it stops telling you differently.”

“So do I.”

“Baby…” she lays a hand on the back of his head; lips pressing a series of feathery kisses across his forehead and along the top of each eyebrow and down the bridge of his nose. “...I didn’t mean to make you cry. That’s the last thing I wanted.”

“Good tears, Me. All good tears.”

“Does it make you feel better that I think you’re beautiful when you cry? That you do suffering so beautifully?”

“I don’t know if it makes me feel better, but it’s really goddamn weird.”

“I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I appreciate you SO much. More than you could ever know. Everything you do for me and for us and for our family. That doesn’t go unnoticed. And I love you so much for it. For always getting back up and putting one foot in front of the other simply because we need you to. I know it’s hard; that it takes all the energy you have to keep going some days. But you do it. For us. And you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

“You know how you say I have a knack of making you cry easily? I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

Smiling, she curls both arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips. Eyes sparkling adoringly when she pulls away; searching every inch of his face as her fingers move through his hair. “You’re a beautiful person, Tyler Rake. Don’t ever let anyone or anything tell you otherwise.”

*****

He’s unsure how long they doze for; stirred from sleep by the sound of the bedroom door creaking upon, followed by the clinking of Mac’s metal tags against his leather collar. The mattress swaying and bowing as the dog jumps onto it and curls into a ball at the bottom of Tyler’s feet; laying his head on his front paws and issuing a loud, comical yawn before closing his eyes.

The temperature has dropped; the furnace clicking on and then settling into a low, almost soothing hum. A strong wind rattles the windows; bare tree branches scrapping the glass and tapping against the metal roof. His left arm is asleep; circulation cut off by the weight of his wife’s head resting on his bicep. And despite cautiously slipping it out from underneath her slipping form, she stirs. A groan of protest escaping her lips as she rolls over onto her back with a groan; heels of her palms pressing into her eyes.

“Good back to sleep, baby,” he encourages, and throws back the heavy comforter. “It’s late.”

“I wasn’t fully out of it.” She pushes herself up onto her elbows, frowning as he slips out of bed. “Where you going?”

“Just getting some clothes to put on. We learned that lesson more than once; always put something on BEFORE the kids get up.”

“We’ve encountered a few awkward moments,” Esme admits, then giggles when the t-shirt he tosses her way lands on the top of her head. “Are you okay?” she asks, as she tugs the garment on. “You have pain? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Everything’s fine,” he assures her, then slips into a pair of weathered and tatted plaid pyjama pants he pulls from the dresser. “Just having a hard time sleeping, I guess.”

“Probably everything that went on today. Your brain probably can’t completely shut down. Come back to bed, though. There’s no reason to get up. Just come and lie down and let me cuddle you.”

“Me…” he grins. “...we’ve talked about this.”

“Sorry. Why don’t you come back to bed, lie down, and cuddle ME”

“That’s better.”

Rolling her eyes, she squirms across the wrinkled and rumpled sheets and settles herself -on her side- in her regular spot. Back towards him as he slides into bed behind her; a forearm placed across her pillow and a palm resting against her stomach and pulling her tightly into him. A groan rumbling deep in his chest when she wriggles her ass against him. “You be good,” he warns.

“I wasn’t doing anything.”

“Bullshit you weren’t.”

“I was getting comfortable,” she informs him, and then pushes her fingers through his; their joined hands resting against the fabric of her t-shirt.

“Sure you were.”

“I like this. Being little spoon. It’s my favourite.”

“You’re the perfect little spoon,” he praises, and drapes a leg over hers. “You fit just right.”

“Doesn’t hurt when you’re so big and I’m so small. Do you ever notice the way people look at us? When we’re out in public? When we’re walking down the street together? Holding hands or arms around each other?”

“I’ve noticed. It probably looks cute; tall guy, teeny girl.”

“They’re probably wondering how we ever get things done. Between the sheets.”

“We manage. We don’t have seven kids for nothing.”

“Have you ever considered you’re just incredibly fertile? Or that we both are? That it didn’t take very much to get me pregnant all those times?”

“I’ll have you know that I worked very hard all those five times it happened. I busted out my best moves to put those kinds of smiles on your face.”

“Baby, sex with you is always amazing. Well, there was that one time when you were really drunk and passed out on top of me and…”

“You are NEVER going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” she laughs. “Never. Especially when Declan was conceived during your drunken escapade. Let’s never tell him that, okay? We don’t need him to have a complex.”

“He already has one. He’s a ginger. That’s enough to give you a complex.”

“Your mother was a ginger,” Esme points out. “He looks just like her. So do you. In some ways. Definitely the shape of your eyes and your forehead and chin. They’re identical. The rest…”

“The rest I get from my old man,” he reluctantly admits. “Yeah, I know.”

“From a physical appearance standpoint, that’s not a bad thing. You happen to be very attractive, husband. Very sexy.”

“Are you saying my dad was sexy?”

“Ewwww. No. God, no. I’m saying you inherited good genes. From a physical standpoint. You are NOTHING like him in other ways. How about we NOT take this conversation any further? Let’s NOT talk about him.”

He presses a kiss to the back of her head. “Good idea.”

“I know what I WANTED to tell you!” She rolls over to face him; his hand falling to the small of her back. “Some very strange things happened to me today. While I was out.”

“Baby, I have been eating at the buffet of strange ALL DAY.”

“Well, consider this the dessert. Guess who showed up? At the diner.”

“Do I really want to know?”

“Natalie. Alone. No kid in sight.”

“She just wandered in out of the blue? Did she follow you there or…?”

“I think this time was a complete coincidence. It’s not a normal place I go to. I specifically went in a direction I don’t usually take because I didn’t want to run into anyone. I wasn’t exactly feeling too social or chatty. But yep, she just wandered in. The waitress knew her. First name basis. So I’m thinking she’s a regular there and it was just a totally random event. For a change.”

“Did she say anything?”

“Not at first. At first she ran off as soon as she saw me. Or tried to. I chased her down. I’d had enough of her shit and I wasn’t letting her off the hook.”

“And I didn’t get a call to come and bail you out of jail?” he chides. “Me, you’re losing your edge.”

“She is insane. Legitimately. That can be the only explanation for the shit that came out of her mouth. She really does think that you two have some kind of connection. That you’re feeling the same way she is. And she’s pretty determined to bust us up and reel you in.”

“That’s never going to happen and you know it. I am perfectly content where I am. She’s just some crazy bitch.”

“A delusional crazy bitch. She tried telling me that you came onto her. At the American Girl store. That you propositioned her. Something about taking a break from the girls and finding a supply closet and…”

“Okay first off, I’d never do something like that. I’m a lot of things, but a cheater isn’t one of them. And even if I was that kind of guy, I sure as hell wouldn’t do THAT. In public. In front of my daughters and my grandkid. She’s fucked. Well and truly fucked.”

“The more I argued with her, the more adamant she became about stealing you away. She’s pretty hot and horny for you, honey. I don’t know…”

“If anything, the thought of her makes my dick shrivel up. In fear.”

“If she had a normally functioning brain, she’d probably be deadly. But she’s just so off the reservation and so delusional that there is no way she’s a threat. Even if she did sort of let on that she is.”

He frowns. “What did she say?”

“Something about how I don’t know who I’m messing with. The usual bullshit someone spouts when they’re called out. They always try to act big and bad. You’ve seen that before; guys trying to step up to you because you’ve threatened their masculinity. I mean, she’s obviously harmless. A bit of a stalker, but…”

“There’s something not right with her. At all.”

“You’re telling me! She’s plain nuts. And I called her out. For lying about TJ. The whole last name thing. Told her if she ever brought my kids into her shit again, I’d go over to her house and drag her out and beat her ass in the middle of the street.”

A grin plays on his mouth. “That’s my girl.”

“I also told her to stay away from you. I don’t appreciate her pissing in my front yard, and I sure as hell don’t share. I don’t know if she'll listen to me, but…”

“Don’t worry about her. She’s obviously not all there. We’ll be leaving in a few days. Won’t have to deal with her for a while.”

“Thank god for that. Any more run-ins with her and I WOULD catch an assault charge and you WOULD be bailing me out of jail.”

“Wouldn’t you want me to leave you there? You might meet some nice lady.”

Scowling, she reaches between their bodies; making him chuckle when she pinches his stomach.

“Don’t be mean,” he dramatically pouts, then pushes her hair behind one ear, then the other. “What’s the second thing? You said a couple weird things happened.”

“This one is so strange it tops anything odd that’s ever happened to me. There was this guy there…”

“I don’t know if I like the start of this…”

“...who looked EXACTLY like Mark. And when I mean exactly, I mean a ninety nine percent match. That’s how much he looked like him.”

His blood immediately runs cold, and he tries his best to hold back any sign of emotion. It’s been years since he’d found out that her first husband was actually still alive; responsible for sending him a handful of voicemails and text messages. Harmless at first. Then becoming very disturbing. “As in your ex Mark?”

Esme nods. “We are talking about his identical twin. If he had one. I swear to God I almost peed my pants. Scared the ever loving shit out of me. That whole saying ‘you look like you’ve seen a ghost’? That was me. I can only imagine what my face looked like. Freaked me out so bad. I honestly thought I’d wet myself."

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Just random chit chat. He held the door open for me. Nothing major.”

“Hmmm…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Hmmm? What’s there to go ‘hmmm’ about? It’s obviously not him. He’s been dead a long time. Hopefully burning in hell. What’s the look on your face for? Now you look like YOU’VE seen a ghost.”

“It’s not that. I just...wow. I guess it IS true; people do have a twin out there somewhere.”

“Well Mark’s twin is from New Jersey and didn’t seem like a first class asshole. He was pretty friendly, actually. Are you okay? You don’t look so good. I know Mark brings back a lot of bad things, but…”

“I was just thinking how weird that must have been for you. Seeing someone that looked just like him. Considering everything he’d done to you.”

“Oh believe me, the memories all came up at once. I was sort of a wreck for a bit after all. But I mean, he’s dead. He’s hardly a threat. It’s not like people can come back from the grave. It was just really strange. Made me feel some things that weren’t very nice, that’s for sure.”

“You’re okay now though? You’re not still freaking out inside? You’re okay?”

“I was okay as soon as I got home. As soon as I saw you. And I got to be in these big, strong arms of yours.” She runs a palm over his left bicep and triceps; enjoying the feel of soft skin and hard muscle. “I’m fine. It was just really weird. I’m okay now.”

“Good,” he says, and kisses her; the back of her head cradled in his palm as his lips softly and slowly move against hers.

“What a weird ass day, huh?”

“It’s one for the record books, that’s for sure."

“It’s over. That’s all that matters. We dealt with it and we got past it and tomorrow...or today...we start again. We deal with our shit and we get on with things and we don’t let anything break us. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Smiling, she kisses him this time, pushing her fingers through his beard and lightly scraping her nails along his jaw. “We need sleep. Badly.”

“We do,” Tyler agrees, and his lips find her forehead. “I’m sorry, Me. That things were pretty shitty today.”

“None of that matters now. We both apologized and we both know what we need to work on. And we’ll do it together. Like we always do.”

“We will,” he confirms, and she once more turns her back towards him. He reaches around her slender body; palm pressed against her stomach, eyes closing as he buries his face in her hair.

“I love you, Tyler.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “So much.”

His hold on her tightens. “I love you too, Esme. More than you’ll ever know.”

Heaving a long, content sigh, she nestles her cheek into the pillow and closes her eyes. Body settling and relaxing against his; safe and protected in the confines of his arms. Completely oblivious to the building rage and worry. In the matter of minutes, so many unknowns have taken up residence inside of him; centred around the true nature and reason behind Natalie’s behaviour and the encounter with Mark’s ‘twin from New Jersey’.

Sleep won’t find him. Not tonight.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Tyler Rake #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme and Tyler series

[edorazzi]

It’s the post everyone’s been waiting for! 

It’s taken a little while for me to get around to this, but it’s worth it for being able to make a full reaction post. This is really long so I’ll put it under a cut, but check it out for my complete scene-by-scene reaction of Miraculous’ “Felix” episode! (´∀｀)♡

Okay, I’ve been putting this off for days now so it’s time to finally get to it. I’m comfy and undisturbed and have my supplies ready to go.

I know next to nothing about what I’m going into. I’ve seen a little bit here and there because some people haven’t tagged their content properly, but I haven’t watched either of the trailers. I haven’t even looked directly at the images of Felix which have been going around. I’ve tried to stay as blind as possible, so as a result I’m pretty excited but also very anxious. I’ve taken two beta blockers today and I’m considering taking a third.

I usually liveblog episodes on our Ladybug PV Discord server (message me for an invite!) but this time I’m making a proper post out of it. I’ll be typing up my reactions as I go then cleaning everything up a little bit afterwards. I think it’s the first time I’ve done something like this on my blog so here goes!

- “Script: Thomas Astruc” NO. HE REALLY COULDN’T JUST STEP AWAY FROM THIS EPISODE GRACEFULLY, COULD HE. HE HAD TO GET HIS HANDS DIRTY. I’m not going to say “fuck this man” but, you know, identical sentiments. I’m opening my chocolate bar.

- God, Emilie looks more like ET every time I see her. Such an awkward model.

- Oh but wait, Sébastien Thibaudeau was on the script? That does actually give me some hope! Next to Zag himself he’s the only writer on this mess of a show I trust. HE FIXED WAYHEM, CAN HE DO FELIX A SOLID TOO? PLEASE. PLEASE SÉBASTIEN OL BUDDY OL PAL OL FRIENDA MINE

- Does Gabe have anything else to say to his wife other than monologuing his Miraculous plan over and over? They say people in comas can still hear things but Emilie’s probably double unconscious from how boring her husband is.

- DON’T LIKE THAT KNIFE SOUND EFFECT FROM THOSE RINGS. Am I supposed to find it sweet that Gabe’s taking such good care of their wedding bands or is he about to use them for evil? Also where’s Felix.

- ADRIEN SWEETHEART. I maintain that it’s weird to have a statue of your wife/mother/self in your own garden but it kills me that he’s just sitting there in front of it like a lost kitten.

- “Of course, someone will get you right away.” IS THAT FELIX. WAS SHE ON THE PHONE TO FELIX. WHERE’S MY SON, NATHALIE HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON

- That wide-eyed look Adrien turns up towards the window is killing me even more. I’M SO SAD. I see he also hasn’t noticed he’s sitting in the middle of a giant butterfly circle, unless he’s so used to it being Gabe’s logo that he’s just not paying it any mind. When was this all built? Has Gabe always used a butterfly motif even before he got his Miraculous and it was just a great coincidence, or did he commission this whole garden area after Emilie went missing? I guess you could pass it off as eccentricity but in the real world that would be a HUGE red flag that Gabe murdered her. I dunno man.

- DON’T WAVE AT HIM LIKE THAT, NATHALIE. YOU RATTED HIM OUT IN 5 SECONDS IN THAT THEORETICAL FUTURE WHERE YOU DISCOVERED HE WAS CHAT NOIR. YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT THIS BOY. >:V

- “It’s been one year.” HAS IT? Hasn’t Adrien been at school for at least a year now? Didn’t his mom vanish two years prior to that?! Maybe she’s talking about how long Gabe has been fighting Ladybug and Chat Noir but knowing this show’s messy timeline it could be anything. WHERE’S FELIX.

- That’s the song from Chat Blanc! Was that something his mom taught him? OH NO, I’M EVEN SADDER NOW. This is what I mean about Sébastien’s writing, we’d never get this kind of focus on Adrien from Garbage Man Astruc. This kind of character exploration does wonders for ML whenever it’s brought up so I hope this is consistent.

- SHIT, GABRIEL’S OUT OF THE HOUSE. SOMETHING’S WRONG. THOSE EXPENSIVE LEATHER SHOES HAVEN’T TOUCHED ACTUAL GROUND IN YEARS. ADRIEN GET OUT OF THERE.

- I do like that Adrien doesn’t get up when his dad comes to stand right next to him like that. It’s just informal enough. He’s waiting for Gabe to make the first move this time and that’s nice development considering how stiff and cold their relationship was in S1.

- OOOOH GABE THAT’S AN AWKWARD CROUCH. Any lower down and his back is going to go. He’ll be stuck there. I do LOVE that he’s trying though, I don’t even know what he’s going to say to Adrien but this is already SO good.

- “There’s something important I have to talk to you about.” Finally time for The Talk, huh.

- GABE PLEASE. ADRIEN’S WAY TOO CHIRPY TO HAVE ACTUALLY CAUGHT ON TO WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY. HE THINKS YOU’RE TRYING TO SAY YOU LOVE HIM OR SOMETHING ELSE RIDICULOUS

- “I’ve noticed how close you and Nathalie have become!” CLOSE ENOUGH. Still in the ballpark of Adrien thinking his dad has real human feelings! 

- “HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK SUCH A THING??” I GENUINELY LAUGHED OUT LOUD AT HOW ANGRY GABE WAS ABOUT THAT. I’m not sure what to think of the “Nathalie replacing Emilie when Emilie’s technically still alive” plot either but GABE’S DECIDED FOR ME. Also good job yelling in your son’s face when you were JUST having a moment, good luck getting back up off your knees in order to storm away, old man.

- Oh alright, he did get up, but it was with a strange angry bow-legged prance. I think he still had trouble.

- I love the way Adrien just kinda wide-eye-blinks at him, like Gabe’s emotional outburst is going totally over his head. He’s been dealing with akuma FAR too long to be bothered by this.

- Guests, plural? I’m guessing Felix is one of them but is he with someone else? That makes sense given he’s (as far as I’ve gathered) the same age as Adrien so he wouldn’t be running around far from home unchaperoned, but OHHH this is so interesting.

- So they ARE claiming it’s been one year since Emilie vanished! This just doesn’t work as a Season 3 episode, especially with Nathalie and Gabe’s romantic development being as far along as it is. Emilie’s been gone for at LEAST three years by this point! Read your show bible once in a while you horrible garbage man!!! Also ADRIEN SWEETHEART THAT’S A LITTLE PREMATURE. You can say “went away forever” when you’re three years into her disappearance, the anniversary of one year really isn’t long enough to claim she’s never coming back!

- OH NO, IT’S THE GIRLS. I’m already bored. Unless Luka is here I really just do not care what they’re all up to. I haven’t missed Marinette at ALL in the first two-and-a-half minutes and I don’t want to see her now. WHERE’S FELIX.

- I’m sorry, how are Lila, Chloé AND Kagami all on a video call together without any blood being drawn? Also for god’s sake PLEASE leave Adrien alone, you want to ask first if he’d LIKE some company or if he’d prefer a quiet personal day to think about his mom? OF COURSE NOT MARINETTE, YOU WOULDN’T WOULD YOU. 

- Okay, a video message is definitely a better idea than trying to break into his house AGAIN. At least then he can watch it whenever he feels up to it. The first good, safe, noninvasive idea Mari’s had for SEVERAL episodes when it comes to Adrien.

- I’M REALLY TORN WHEN IT COMES TO THE ENGLISH DUB. On one hand I hate how little screentime Nino has when he’s not just being Alya’s fashion accessory, but on the other hand I’m so glad they switched scenes the moment Nino started his video because I CANNOT handle his dub voice. Nino just deserves better in general really.

- HE WAS CRYING. MY BOY WAS CRYING AGAIN. I’M NOT COOL WITH THIS. IT’S NOT ABOVE YOUR PAYGRADE TO GIVE HIM A HUG, NATHALIE.

- ALRIGHT HI ELSA. IS THIS HIS AUNT? THAT’S SPOOKY. 

- Her name is Amelie? So their parents had twins and named them Amelie and Emilie, and they turned out the same right down to the over-the-shoulder Dead Anime Mom hairstyles? That’s lazy parenting down to a tee, can’t mix your twins up if you never have to learn the difference between them in the first place! But that’s INTERESTING that Felix is (I assume, still haven’t seen him yet) from Emilie’s side of the family, I’ve always had the impression he was a petit Gabriel.

- OHHH THAT’S MY BOY! I CAN SEE MY BOY IN THE DOORWAY!!! OH MY GOD GIVE HIM TO ME. GIVE ME FELIX. GIVE ME MY SON.

- ADRIEN IMMEDIATELY JUMPING ON HIM IN A HUG IS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. WHILE FELIX’S HAND IS STILL OUTSTRETCHED FOR A HANDSHAKE. I know this episode is going to go downhill because there’s no way it won’t, but this one single moment is EVERYTHING I WANTED. I should just close the tab now and leave it at this, I really should.

- “Do you remember when they used to have so much fun pretending to be each other? Once they had you and Emilie fooled for a whole weekend!” WHERE HAS THIS BEEN FOR MY ENTIRE ORDEAL GETTING THROUGH THIS SERIES. I don’t even care if this Felix is a stone cold bitch, it’s enough to know he and Adrien were besties when they were kids and Adrien still wanted to hug him the second he walked through the door. AMAZING.

- “I WON’T BE FOOLED A SECOND TIME.” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, GABE. THEY WERE PROBABLY TODDLERS. ARE YOU JUST SO USED TO GETTING YOUR ASS HANDED TO YOU BY CHILDREN THAT YOU’RE SUSPICIOUS OF EVERY SINGLE ONE NOW

- Aww, Felix is American (dubbed, anyway). I was really hoping he’d be British with all the references to London over the last season. He does have a nice voice though! I can tell he shares Adrien’s actor but he’s got the softness I’d have expected from his character. There’s kind of an interesting look about his face though, I wish they’d tweaked it a bit to give him a sharper look but I guess he IS like 14, he can afford to still have a bit of baby-cheeked roundness. I’m going to find the positives in every part of this because I will NOT give Garbage Man Astruc the satisfaction of being disappointed like I know he wants me to be. It’s been a fucking war from the moment I saw his name in the writing credits and my best weapon is being pleased about everything in this episode.

- Okay, he looks a little better in the following closeup where his eyes are slightly narrowed. I think it’s the slightly-below-the-chin angle which doesn’t really work for his character model with his soft cheeks and high collar. FELIX IS A BABY.

- WHY WILL NOBODY SHAKE HIS HAND. Adrien hugged him instead and Gabe is ignoring him completely, Felix is clearly so perplexed and I love it. He’s fourteen! He’s fourteen and doing his best with social graces but NOBODY WILL HELP HIM.

- “Felix, you know your uncle’s never been the physical sort!” HE KICKED HIS OWN SON RIGHT ACROSS PARIS IN THE LAST EPISODE BUT SURE, IF YOU SAY SO.

- “Oh, how sweet! You’re still wearing your wedding band!” YEAH? IT’S BEEN LIKE A YEAR?? Again this would make more sense if it had been around three years like we KNOW Emilie’s been gone for, but picking someone out for still wearing their ring after 12 months?! And why isn’t Amelie more emotional about this anyway, isn’t it her sister who’s missing? I wouldn’t be poking fun at MY sister’s husband for keeping his ring if SHE went missing. No wonder Felix seems like he turned out weird.

- I CAN’T MAKE OUT THE NAME OF HER BRANCH OF THE FAMILY AND IT’S KILLING ME. SOMEONE LET ME KNOW WHAT THAT WAS. Graham de Vanily? I can’t place the words. I mean I’m going to keep calling Felix “Agreste” no matter what but I’d like to know what canon is trying to get at.

- “It’s been a long journey from London” I KNEW IT, I FFFFFFFFFUCKING KNEW IT. SO THEY ARE BRITISH?! BUT THEY HAVE AMERICAN ACCENTS?! I mean I guess they’re French first and foremost, but what the fuck is with the American accents if you’re making a POINT about them being from London?! I can’t wait for the French audio to be released, I really want to know what Felix sounds like there. Regardless AAAH MY SON IS FROM MY CITY, I’M SO PLEASED.

- “TakeFelixtoyourbedroom.” EASY GABE THEY JUST MET, ALSO THEY’RE COUSINS

- Poor Felix looks so depressed being saddled with Adrien. Sweetie it’s okay, think positive! You could be stuck with Marinette and THAT would be a true nightmare.

- Now why does Felix keep glancing at Gabe? Is there something going on there? Is he suspicious about what happened to his aunt? I can’t imagine he knows anything about the Miraculous so what’s the deal here?

- UuuuuUUUUGH we’re back with the rest of the gang. I’M NOT INTERESTED, SHOW ME MORE FELIX.

- “Help me Tikki! What would you tell a Kwami friend who’s lost their mom?!” You’re talking to a 5000-year-old demigoddess, Mari, I don’t think she’s gonna relate.

- MARI YOU CAN’T CONFESS TO ADRIEN. NOT AFTER CHAT BLANC. GABE WILL LOSE ALL HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT TO WRECK THE LOVE SQUARE AND ALSO THE MOON’S GOING TO EXPLODE. WHY ISN’T BUNNIX HERE TO SLAP THE TABLET OUT OF YOUR HANDS

- Should Tikki really be encouraging this?! I have no idea where in the timeline this is supposed to be. Maybe this is at a stage where she doesn’t know Adrien is Plagg’s chosen so there’s no reason to steer Marinette away from bonding with him. Or maybe every episode just plays by its own rules and there’s really no such thing as continuity in this series. I want to see Felix again.

- YANKING AT AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE ON THE OUTER EDGE OF A BOAT ISN’T GOING TO END WELL. DON’T. I do love how :D Alya is about it though, if nothing else I love what a supportive friend she is.

- Oh, the tablet didn’t go into the water! I’m genuinely surprised by that. Though I imagine Felix is going to fuck things up in some way so he’ll probably be the one to destroy the video somehow. We all know the relationship development isn’t allowed to move forward so SOMETHING’S going to happen to it.

- Thank god we’re back to the mansion. I’m surprised and pleased that (for now at least) we’re only getting the girls in small doses and the plot is mainly focused around the Agrestes. Gorizilla is my favourite episode to date and it did a similar thing with allowing Marinette to be a side character for once along an Adrien-centric plotline, so hopefully this episode will be similar. I’m liking its odds so far but who knows what Horrible Garbage Man Astruc has up his sleeve.

- “I’m really sorry I didn’t come to your dad’s funeral.” I’M SORRY WHAT? PARDON ME? THAT’S AN ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM I DIDN’T EXPECT. As a side note I love Felix being killer at basketball for some reason, he doesn’t look like the athletic type at ALL but he still made that net over his shoulder without even LOOKING. Goddamn. Can everyone please appreciate how cool my son is!!!

- “My father thought it would be too hard on me, considering everything that’s happened this year.” So Felix lost his dad VERY RECENTLY. OUCH. DON’T LIKE THAT. Or I DO like that because it’s already giving his character some extra depth when we’re still only just getting to know him, but on an emotional level I don’t like that. 

- “He’s very... protective of me.” CHAT BLANC REALLY WAS A HOT MESS OF AN EPISODE WASN’T IT. 

- Now Felix is giving Adrien a hug?! I didn’t see that one coming. My canon Felix would mean it but I don’t quite trust this new Felix yet, he’s probably up to something.

- WHAT A JARRING PIANO TRANSITION. Also why?! What does he have to gain from swiping Adrien’s phone? He’s probably got a terrible roaming plan on his own mobile, that’s always my problem when I go to France. If you truly loved your cousin you’d let him browse Reddit on your phone, Adrien. This is worse than not coming to his dad’s funeral.

- PLAGG KNOWS SOMETHING’S UP. He ought to, in another life he and Felix are STILL dealing with each other.

- Okay I take back what I said about Felix’s voice. Bryce Whatshisface isn’t doing a very good job separating the tones. I can buy that Adrien and Felix sound very similar but their delivery should be completely different! I really do want to watch this in French, I get the feeling it’ll sound much better.

- AH YES, HERE WE GO. I’m getting the feeling this is Garbage Man’s part of the episode. Squished cheese aside, I do like the implication Felix does (or did) card magic and karate. I’m thinking of that Mickey Mouse episode where he vanishes Donald’s car keys with a hand trick except it’s Felix vanishing Marinette’s phone when she’s about to text Adrien or something. I’ve got to draw that.

- “Mind if I take a shower?” WHY, FELIX. I mean I’d probably want to shower too after the London-Paris commute (and I’m sure he’s only going in there to wreak havoc, put food colouring in Adrien’s shampoo bottles or something) but what a weird time to ask!

- I mean Plagg has a point about difficult home situations not justifying bad behaviour (and I feel like that’s not what’s going on, with how he was glaring at Gabe I think he’s behaving like this for some other reason), but Felix’s dad LITERALLY DIED. Like they had a funeral and everything. Emilie is just “missing”. They’re SIMILAR but that’s still a false equivalence because Adrien’s got hope to hold on to and Felix doesn’t.

- So we’re not going to talk about how Felix got into Adrien’s passcode-protected phone? I guess he could have done the fogging-up-the-screen trick from Oblivio. Standing around in a steamy bathroom in three layers of clothing is a great way to sweat yourself out and ruin your hair though, way to get even more gross than a five-hour commute between countries.

- “Of course that idiot has a crush on a superhero!” EASY THERE, MR HOWLING-ON-A-ROOFTOP-BECAUSE-HE-SAW-THE-GIRL-HE-LIKED. WE’VE ALL SEEN THE PV.

- I’ve just noticed Felix has a ring too! I don’t know how I missed that before this scene! That’s NICE. He’s still not allowed to have it on his middle finger (LET HIM SWEAR) but that’s a nod back to Chat Noir which I really appreciate!

- ROSE HAS BEEN ON THE HELIUM. SOMETHING’S NOT RIGHT THERE.

- FELIX KNOWS CHLOÉ! THAT’S NICE, THAT’S GOOD. I LIKE THAT. That’s also a really nice little video from her, I love the few small moments we’ve had that affirm she and Adrien really ARE friends, whether she wants to date him or not. 

- OOOH HE DELETED THE VIDEOS. I’m curious about him borrowing Adrien’s clothes too, are they going to dress the same? You’d think Adrien wouldn’t give someone an exact copy of the outfit he’s currently wearing but I genuinely don’t know if he owns anything different. I hope they don’t just use two Adrien models for the rest of the episode, please let me see Felix properly :/

- WHY. HONESTLY, WHY. CAN I PLEASE GET AN EXPLANATION FOR WHY FELIX IS DOING THIS.

- OOOH MARI YOU’RE NOT GONNA LIKE THIS. I can imagine Felix is going to say something nasty and that’ll set the girls off and bring about the akuma of the week. I’m mildly entertained but I’m still not engaged with this idea without any proper explanation. We’d better get something by the end of the episode which justifies what’s made Felix do this, because “he’s just evil lol” would be a reeeeally low move from Garbage Man Astruc. 

- MARI SWEETIE. YOU’VE GOTTA LEARN TO CHECK A ROOM IS EMPTY BEFORE YOU RUN INSIDE AND START FREAKING OUT VERY LOUDLY. LUKA’S HEARD ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. 

- Luka is such a nice character. Why does he get to be so high quality when Felix has been turned into a cheese-smashing phone-stealing gremlin? I mean I KNOW why, but I’d like to think the showwriters are better than this. They’re not, but I’d like to think they are.

- WHAT A VIDEO MESSAGE. I love how Luka’s just sitting there grimacing while Mari speeds off into battle, he doesn’t know what she’s about to do but he knows better than to try stopping her.

- Back with Gabe and Nathalie. Is this what was being foreshadowed when Gabe claimed he wouldn’t be fooled by the boys’ identity switch twice? Is he GOING to be fooled again or will he be the one person who can tell immediately that this isn’t his son? 

- “FELIX.” WOW, HE REALLY WASN’T FOOLED TWICE. RESPECT. He may have trouble getting up off the ground if he sits down too low but he can at least identify his child in a difficult situation like this, props to Gabe this week.

- “All this disappointment might just help us get rid of our unwanted guests!” SHUT YOUR MOUTH, FELIX IS A DELIGHT. The only unwanted guest here is Astruc on the writing team.

- “Felix... I told you that you couldn’t fool me twice.” Way to blow your identity in five seconds Gabe. I guess he hasn’t sent out the akuma yet so this might just be a personal monologue, but he starts addressing his victims directly so often at this stage that I’m really not sure what they can or can’t hear. SHIT’S RISKY.

- OH OKAY, SO HE’S SENDING THIS TRIPLE AKUMA AFTER FELIX? AND/OR ADRIEN, DEPENDING ON HOW HARD IT IS TO TELL THEM APART? I guess that’s what he means by getting rid of their guests, if the house is attacked by a monster (or monsters?) they aren’t going to want to stick around, but I REALLY HOPE YOU’RE TAKING ADRIEN’S WELLBEING INTO ACCOUNT HERE GABE OL BUDDY :/

- “TIKKI, SPOTS ON! MNUURGH” ME TOO MARINETTE. I’M REALLY ONLY 12 MINUTES INTO THIS.

- I’m gonna be honest, I’m not really interested in the girls. I was hoping for a real triple akuma (like Oblivio was apparently Alya and Nino together) but they’re all just villains we’ve seen before. There’s stuff I could comment on here but I just want to see more of Felix, that’s what I’m here for.

- “Nathalie, get Adrien to a safe place far from his cousin!” YOU’RE REALLY JUST GONNA SACRIFICE FELIX LIKE THIS. I guess that makes sense, I WAS complaining during Chat Blanc that Adrien is Gabriel’s weak point, so all things considered I’m not surprised that he’ll protect Adrien but just flat-out wants Felix dead. Fair enough.

- WOW. I THOUGHT ADRIEN WAS GOING TO BE HEROIC AND DEFEND FELIX BUT HE WANTS HIM DEAD TOO. Or was that a double bluff to make the akuma think he MUST be Felix so he can lead them away and keep his cousin safe? He’s just run off with a wild cackle so I’m thinking it’s the latter. HE’S A GOOD BOY AND A TRUE HERO.

- I also find it kind of funny how Nathalie will jump in harm’s way to defend him when there have been INNUMERABLE other episodes of Gabe just setting an akuma directly on Adrien for the hell of it. Maybe because there isn’t really any ‘harm’ here to start with; the three girls’ powers are probably the least violent of all the akuma we’ve seen so far.

- AM I REALLY ABOUT TO SEE FELIX DRESSED AS ADRIEN DOING KARATE. I HOPE HE’S GOOD AT IT.

- OH MY GOD HE IS GOOD AT IT. That’s cool! I was expecting him to totally flop considering how badly his imposter trick went down a few minutes ago, but it’s nice to see he’s as capable at fighting as he is at basketball. When do I get to see his magic card tricks?

- YEAH I FEEL THE SAME PLAGG. WHAT’S EVEN HAPPENING. Not that I think Adrien shouldn’t save Felix, I just want to know WHY Felix felt like he had to do this in the first place! I feel like “can I PLEASE get a waffle” except instead of watching the employees fight I’m watching this episode careening away with no pauses to explain what’s going on.

- FELIX C’MON. STOP CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE. I can tell Garbage Man Astruc still has the reins here because causing even MORE trouble even AFTER Adrien saved his ass is a completely illogical course of action. PUT SÉBASTIEN BACK IN THE WRITERS CHAIR.

- “WHICH PART OF THE WORD ‘NO’ DID YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!” Oh perfect, great, can’t let this episode end without accusing Felix of not respecting consent! That’s a hot button issue and if Garbage Man Astruc can get him on that bandwagon then fans HAVE to hate this character! Great move! Fucking pillock!

- WOW CHAT THAT’S MEAN. I guess accusing Felix of having no friends is justified in the context of the episode but yikes :(

- Was that a flash of humiliation from Felix there? God will one of the writers PLEASE save this character, PLEASE don’t let this episode end without someone getting him out of the Garbage Man’s big meaty claws.

- Excuse me WHAT? Felix is talking directly to Papillon?! So he knows about all the Miraculous stuff?! Oh NO, is this about getting his dad back? I don’t know whether the One Wish is common knowledge (I don’t think it is?) but maybe Felix put the pieces together on his own back home, so all his behaviour here has been trying to incite an akuma that he can take advantage of to appeal to Papillon?! Or he could just be a bitch all on his own, which is probably what the Garbage Man would prefer, but this makes a lot of sense all of a sudden.

- BRO HE NEARLY DIED. BRO. BROOO.

- “I hope you’ve learned your lesson!” YOU’RE NOT EVEN GONNA ASK ABOUT THE PAPILLON THING? YOU CAN’T JUST TREAT THIS AS A REGULAR DISTURBANCE, FELIX KNOWS SHIT ABOUT THE MIRACULOUS YOU GUYS--

- FELIX’S MOM IS REALLY GOING TO BLAME HIS DEAD DAD FOR THIS? HARD YIKES. NO WONDER FELIX IS WEIRD.

- I’m expecting this isn’t over, because Felix still clearly wants something specific that he didn’t get, but I’ll take this cute hug for what it is. He didn’t have an evil expression behind Adrien’s back this time either and the music is all soft and nice, plus he FINALLY got a handshake from Gabe, but I absolutely do NOT imagine this episode will end without getting an extra shot in at the PV fans somehow. We’re not getting off this easy.

- Why doesn’t Gabriel want Adrien to go after Felix? Is he scared he’ll try to run off, or ask them to stay longer when he really wants to get rid of them?

- AHAHA FELIX STOLE GABE’S RING. WHAT A BRAT. Was that the “jewelry” he mentioned wanting in return for helping Papillon? I figured it was a Miraculous thing but maybe not.

- OHHH, look how much Felix loves his mom! This is such a sweet scene. I particularly like the idea that Amelie was trying to get the rings back to give one to Felix because the way she was speaking to Gabe made it sound like she wanted them Just Because. But you can’t mention some wild story connected to the rings and then not explain it! I want to know what that is, I want to know why Felix is so fascinated with it!!!

- ALSO, FELIX GETTING A BIG KISS RIGHT ON THE FOREHEAD. EXCELLENT. I’ll fucking BET this is another scene Sébastien sneaked in because it’s such an emotional quality shift from the whole clone mess. Like what the fuck even WAS that.

- Yep, Felix is still evil! WHY THOUGH. WHAT’S GOING ON. CAN I PLEASE GET A WAFFLE

- I was expecting a worse ending, but “Felix can’t ever come back to Paris because Gabriel will kill him with his bare hands if he does” is decent enough. If there’s no further confirmation (and NO, anything Garbage Man Astruc tweets later on does NOT fucking count so don’t try me) I’m going to take it that he WAS actually sorry for what he did to Adrien. That’s better than nothing.

.

.

WELL THAT WAS AN EPISODE. That actually wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be - it could have been a lot better but it could have been a lot worse too. The beginning and end were nice enough even if the middle part was Garbage Man Astruc’s usual atrocious mess of self-service, though I do particularly despise the hamfisted consent issue shoved in there just to generate extra reasons to hate the character. WE GET IT, YOU DON’T LIKE FELIX. OFF YOU FUCK. 

I’ve slept on this next paragraph to give myself time to formulate some concrete thoughts about the plot, so... Well, it was a mess, that’s for sure. They spent way too much time establishing how oH sO eViL Felix was and not nearly enough time actually explaining his character. 

Why is he acting out like this? What has he got against Adrien in particular? Is he really sore about Adrien not supporting him at his dad’s funeral or is that just what Adrien thinks is his problem? What was his relationship with his dad before he died? Was his troublemaking all about trying to provoke an akuma and ask Papillon to help him get his family rings back (which he was clearly trying to steal from the moment he walked through the door, only Gabe wouldn’t shake his hand the first time), or was that just a side effect of causing shit for no reason? Did he mean his apology to Adrien at the end? WHAT was the deal with the rings and the story attached to them? There’s a whole interesting story buried in here which just got completely overlooked by the emphasis on how terrible he was and that’s really disappointing. 

I did like his damaged-but-still-good relationship with Adrien though, there’s still hope there and maybe Felix (if he ever shows up again, which I only hope he does if it’s NOT another excuse for Garbage Man Astruc to shit on the PV fandom again, for the love of FUCK don’t give this guy multiple opportunities) will start coming around and making the effort to be a better cousin since Adrien’s given him a second chance. I don’t know. What I liked just as much was Marinette actually barely being in this episode at all, for the first time since Gorizilla she’s ALLOWED to be the supporting character again and that’s GREAT.

I don’t really know what else to say. I’m exhausted. Adrien’s a darling and I think I prefer my Twin AU, though canon Felix being a delightful little gremlin who causes problems-on-purpose is something I can work with in the future too. 

Thanks for coming on this... interesting journey with me! I posted a set of tweets last night which I’ll leave here to finish up:

#josie's art #josie talks about things #miraculous ladybug #felix agreste #this can go in my felix tag for organisation's sake #and NO i'm not going to start calling him felix vanillagrahams or whatever his canon name is; leave me alone #anyway here's the post everyone wanted; it got VERY LONG but i ain't even sorry #i usually liveblog on the PV discord server but i felt this deserved its own post of basically-the-same-thing-but-neater

[jimmythejiver]

For the first time in a long time I went to the movies in forever and then to Target. At Target I see some Godiva bars on discount yellow tags and I was ecstatic until I read 70% Cacao, Dark, Salted Caramel and was deflated.

Anyway that's how I felt about seeing The Green Knight. What you thought this was about chocolate?

No see since the pandemic I've been back on my perennial King Arthur kick. I've for a long time since I was a young preteen thought, someday I too will write my own King Arthur epic and it'll be gay, magical, gangster and culty too, but for now I'll make up my own stories for practice and then with every story I got attached too, it got too involved and convoluted to the point that when it came down to actually writing a novel, I threw it all away and made a space opera I only planned in two weeks and wrote in a month. Anyway...so now I've been writing this very gay, magical, gangster and culty take on Final Fantasy XV with my boyfriend and just fell in love with Somnus Lucis Caelum who nobody has any insight about him than to make him the Mordred to Ardyn's Arthur, which is a strange flex, but okay, I thought about what if I wrote a Dark Age prequel about Ardyn and Somnus, but Ardyn becomes king and Somnus his shogun and they play games of seduction and power because I'm twisted like that. Anyway...I was like I'm never going to write this and I have to keep making up characters based on FFXV characters and King Arthur tropes because there's not a lot of stories that take place during the Dark Ages, it's always some Roman Empire story, or High Middle Ages and FFXV gave no room for either society to happen after the fall of Solheim and the rise of King Somnus...so we left with Dark Ages, y'all, the King Arthur comparisons are obvious, but Ardyn is no Arthur and Somnus is no Mordred, Aera is only Guenevere if you make up an affair with Somnus, Gilgamesh is no Bedwyr/Bedivere, but uh...they both amputees and the oldest companions to their respective kings so...I guess. Anyway making an ancestor of Cor Leonis and deciding well he's Owain/Yvain, or am Ignis type as idk Sir Cai/Kay I guess, they both cook, but Cai's more like Seifer Almasy than any FF character... Anyway I'm losing people.

My plan was to just scrap the FFXV prequel, leave my Somnus ideas into Overtime (a gangster and gods story) and just plan an actual King Arthur adaptation. I'd have King Arthur the treasure hunter, leader of a warband turned founder of Camelot who fights giants, giant cats and dogheads, but also fights King Claudas of the Franks and King Aelle of the Saxons and Cerdic a Briton who puts in his lot with the Saxons, etc. It'd been a a glorified turf war, meanwhile Arthur's gotta make alliances with King Pelles, The Fisher King and his strange cult he's founded because, why yes I find the ends justifies the means prophecy of the Holy Grail Quest very culty because Christianity then does not resemble it now. Meanwhile you got the secondary plots of Mordred, Gawain, Lancelot, Percival, Tristam and other's going on because they matter and too many modern King Arthur stories sideline the knights.

So many have always sidelined Mordred as a final boss eldritch abomination in mortal flesh conceived of sin and give him no personality, or complex motives, or even just a relationship with Arthur. I also have noticed the general sidelining of Lancelot, or give him a chad villain upgrade if you must include him at all, and the villainizing of Gawain to the point that you don't even have to have Mordred, or Agravain as a catalyst shit stirrer in court, just slap Gawain's name on Liam Neeson in a top knot and you're good. Mordred can just be a child offscreen until last act...fuck that, while Morgan Le Fay can either be a villainess plotting her cabal through men, or a well-intentioned, ineffectual idiot. Fuck that.

Now Hollywood just be doing King Arthur first acts that suck ass, only for said director to get rewarded failing upwards by giving this same jerk the Aladdin remake. The tonally shitty, crammed in blockbuster mess of a cliche heroe's journey that sucks.

With that background I was excited for The Green Knight. I read an illustrative version as a kid, I read Tolkien's translation as a teenager, I read Simon Armitage's superior, but with liberties taken translation. I was prepped to go knowing that indie, or not they were going to make changes to weave the disjointed poem together. I'm excited that because this movie exists Project Guternberg's finally thrown Jessie Weston's prose rendition up on their website. I'll be reading that at some point when this blows over.

The movie adaptation makes a lot of...choices, many I wouldn't love, but would forgive had their been a payoff. There was none.

The journey was fine, the cinematography was a breath of fresh air after crappy slo mo, glossy action scenes ruined another. Guys, I don't think I want to see a Zack Snyder Excalibur, it'll marginally be better than Guy Ritchie, but that ain't saying anything. Leave Excalibur to the post-Star Wars 80s where it is impeccable for it's time. I liked Green Knight's breathable pacing, it's color palette's in the forests and mountains made up for the muddy grey of every Ridley Scott send up in the castles and villages in every other Dark Ages/Medieval story in the last I don’t know since the shitty 00′s. For all the dark tones when there was blues, greens, yellows or reds, they were vibrant in this movie to contrast the gloom of Britain. The soundtrack was good. This isn't all what makes a movie, but it enhances it so let's get to the story and what I did and didn't like.

Things I Liked: Gawain is still a novice in his career The Costume Dressing Everyone pronounces Gawain's name different. I pronounce it like Gwayne, or Guh Wayne, but here you got Gowen (like Owen), Gowan (like Rowan), or even Garlon who I'm pretty sure is the Fisher King's heir in some versions of that Arthurian story, so uh... The reference to Arthur slaying 960 men with his bare hands (Nennius for the win!) The Waste Land that is implied to be a site of a battle (an important aspect of the Arthurian landscape) The Fox companion No long grisly, drawn out hunting scenes. The Fox lives! No misogynist speeches

Things I'm Mixed: This being a dream, is the magic real? Are the giants? Is the Green Knight a figment of Gawain's imagination from a spell Morgan casted in him to hallucinate? Is Lord and Lady also figments? It's...a way to interpret the poem, but lazy and I don't see why it's got to all fantasy, or all dream...this movie makes it too vague you're stuck picking one camp than to accept it's a fantasy with dream and hallucinatory sequences.

Things I'm Meh: Morgan Le Fay as Gawain's mom. Look I fucking hate Morgause as a character and these two get merged and steal each other's aspects so much at this point the difference is who did they marry, King Urien or King Lot? Both are attributed to being Mordred's mom, Mordred is Gawain's brother...both practice magic depending on certain incarnations, both love and hate Arthur their brother and are in conflict with him. Saint Winifred. I actually liked this sequence, but I don't appreciate her as the tacked on wife in the later dream sequence as like...a contrast between the wife you should marry than the whore next door you don't respect anyway? I don't even know what lesson I'm supposed to get out of the damn dream sequence, or any of it? That Gawain should've married his girlfriend and then he'd be a just ruler? That he shouldn't be king? That he'd never have to make the same heartless, impartial choices? I don't know, he seemed like a king doing king shit because guess what? It never gets easier. Wars will be waged. The world didn't become better because he married the right woman, respected her and lived in obscurity. The world didn't become better because he made her his queen. We certainly don't know the world would be better Gawain had his head chopped off and dead XP They never reveal the Lord and the Green Knight as one and the same because of this shit.

Things I Hated: Arthur withdraws from the challenge because he's old. In poem he takes it on and Gawain takes it so he don't have to and he finds himself more disposable than the king. Gawain only takes the challenge because of arrogance. Arthur and Gawain had no prior personal relationship. I'd not have hated this so much if it wasn't compounded by it cancelling out the first two things. Gawain is portrayed as having no respect for his woman, or any woman, maybe his mother? He has to be pushed by Winifred to regain her head. Gawain is portrayed as arrogant, covetous and ready to pass the buck, or the bare minimum than have any honor or decency. It didn't matter the kid in the wasteland was shithead bandit, the way Gawain acted towards him, when he gets robbed, it almost feels like he deserved it and Gawain doesn't learn a damn lesson. I'll admit him taking the sword to cut his ropes and cutting his hands was a neat sequence, it shows him go from stupid, to almost clever and having will to survive...you know traits he had in the poem, but he stops showing these traits or growing. Basically Gawain has to be dragged kicking and screaming to help people and shows no fortitude when facing temptation, or when showing respect towards others, it's exhausting. You don't make this kind of journey story without character growth. Why are you skipping this? Also is it just me, or is this like when you take Frank Miller Batman and transport him onto a Bill Finger story? This is at best Thomas Malory Gawain (and this is charitable) transported on the earlier Pearl Poet's story. Stop it. It's not tonally correct and goes at odds with the story and the set up characterization you'd need to tell it. Speaking of which, you know how I get through the oof... of Liam Neeson Gawain in Excalibur? By pretending he Agravain instead. Here...I don't even think Gawain could pass as Mordred in spite of his covetous nature, lust and entitlement. Why? because I don't think even Mordred is this dumb to warrant this hubris. Essel being invented as a tacked on love interest just to be shit on utterly and for what? I don't think I have much commentary here as there is no Essel I'm aware of to compare, or stack up. I just notice this trope of like...usually if you include a sex worker in Hollywood she often has a heart of gold, she often has her own sense of values that goes at odds with society, but is more true and less hypocritical than a privileged lady’s. I thought that's what they would've done with the added trope of back at home sweetheart to contrast and pit her against the despicable femme fatale of Lady Bertilak and her adultery and her ladyship...and I'm glad they didn't...but you did nothing with Essel than to shit on her for existing when you made her exist, you know. Lady Bertilak being portrayed as the seductress devil incarnate. Look I know adultery is a touchy taboo, but uh her and Gawain hit it off in the poem, dammit! Her values and his values come to clash, but here it's played off as Gawain is stupid and covetous and Lady Bertilak wants to prove something because...? If my brother's theory that she's a figment of Morgan Le Fay's magic, then I'll take this as a lesson of Gawain is impulsive and covetous and his mom knows it, but he don't want to fuck his mom, but he wants her power, and Morgan wants to teach him a lesson... I guess. Hey we don't have misogynist speeches in this movie, but we'll make sure to have the movie drip with it with no point, or commentary. Pass. Lord guilting, extracting and initiating the same sex kiss and only once. Poem automatically better that Gawain don't have to keep being reminded to keep his part of the bargain and he does it willingly more than once. What he doesn't do is give up his belt...gods how did we get more homophobic as a society that the homoeroticism here is worse? Catholics of the middle ages officially had no issue doing same sex, passionate kissing until it lead to sex. The Ending: The gods damn ending. In the movie as is, Gawain waits to uphold his end of the bargain and get his head chopped off. He imagines, even though we don't get any fuzzy or distortion to indicate this is a dream, but I already knew this was coming, he runs away and comes home, is regarded a hero, he sees his lady, takes her from behind and if you saw Brokeback Mountain (I didn't, but DJ has) you know this is a sign of disrespect to women. He gets her knocked up, pays her off for the kid she wants to keep, he is crowned king, marries the ghostly saint lady he helped retrieve her head earlier from a lake in the movie (this right here is the damn tip off). There's no more dialogue by this point and everything is montaging, so you know by now it's a dream, though nothing is out of focus. He rules as a heartless king, his whore son dies from war he waged, he has a daughter, his wife dies. Gawain then takes off the belt that would've saved his life and his head falls off. This would've been the one good twist, except... In this sequence of events he never had his head cut off so uh... now we back in present day. He decides not to bitch out, Green Knight in a sexy way is like "now off with your head," movie cuts to credits with no resolve...uh what the fuck? What the fuck? This is not good. You wasted the one twist in your dream when idk, you could've...

How I'd fix it: No dream sequence at all. No Incident At Owl Creek twist. Gawain comes home a hero and survivor of this game and ordeal. He wears this belt of shame. He becomes a well-renowned knight, but he bears a shame. One day he goes to take off his belt and his head falls off because he cheated to get this belt and to survive this encounter. There. Done. Improved your high concept movie that couldn't play any of the lessons straight from the damn poem without making everyone an asshole for no reason! Ugh! But nope you had to end it on we don’t know if Gawain lives or dies...because...it's dream magic made from his momma's witchcraft...?

Last Thoughts So then post-credits scene because Marvel because Pirates Of The Caribbean existed. A white girl who looks nothing like Gawain's daughter we see who didn’t pay off, or any child I can remember through this whole movie picks up King Arthur's crown that dream Gawain inherited and puts it on her head. Who is this girl? Are we gonna have an indie equivalent of of the Marvel Movie Universe/Universal Horror Monsters thing with ancient British legends? We gonna get a Life Of Saint Patrick next that crosses over? I don't know. What is this?

[matildashoney]

Loving You’s the Antidote: Chapter Ten

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou​, @goldenfeelin​, @detroitkiwis​, @wherearethewatermelons​, @cock-a-doodely-doo

talk to me about it! feedback is greatly appreciated!

this chapter contains themes of anxiety. please read with caution.

good luck with this one, angels. x

Harry hasn’t spoken much the entire flight, only with exceptions of thanking the flight attendants for their courtesy and asking if Amelie wanted water or something to eat. His lips were tucked in a straight line, pursed tightly, the worry line in his forehead etched into his brows. His green eyes were a muted colour, one earphone dangling from the mess of curls on his head. He kept looking over to Amelie, waiting for her to say something, to yell at him, to scold him, to even whisper. He missed her voice when she was talking to him. She always has a different voice with him – no matter which emotion she was feeling more – and it is his favourite sound in the whole world. Her voice is sweet and smooth like honey, twinges of her mother’s accent when a word would nearly slip into another language and the twang that her father gave to his children. Amelie’s voice is melodic, hanging on every syllable and enunciating in a way that Harry could listen to her speak forever.

Harry just wants to hear Amelie speak to him.

Amelie is hidden behind sweatpants and a sweatshirt, neither matching in their colour scheme, Harry’s old Greenbay Packers hoodie clinging to her torso, the sleeves still slightly loose after nearly a year of washing and drying. Her hair is tied into a bun, stray baby hairs falling to the nape of her neck and her forehead, the saltwater clinging to the peach tone that is slowly fading into a deeper brunette with her roots. Amelie and Gemma were meant to dye their hair together when she went to London after St. Bart’s, but that’s not in the itinerary anymore.

Harry reaches for her hand, his heart breaking when Amelie unclips her seatbelt and shakes him away, standing to her feet and staring at him with the hardest glare that she could muster without tears.

“Can you just,” she mutters, her voice trailing at the end of the sentence, taking a deep breath and hiding her face away from his as she angrily wipes a tear from her cheek.

“Can you talk to me? Baby, I don’t understand,” Harry whispers, dropping his hand disappointingly to his thigh and extending his legs slightly to try and prolong his time with her.

“Don’t,” Amelie sterns, stepping over his legs and pausing when his hand grasps her waist lightly, steadying her to avoid falling as a flight attendant walks behind her swiftly and without caution, nearly causing her to trip into her. Her eyes soften when he releases her, suddenly wishing that he would demand her to speak to him. Her mind and heart were conflicted, because as much as she wanted to be angry and yell and express all of the negative emotions swimming in her chest, Harry is the love of her life and the idea of him hurting makes her stomach turn.

“Ames,” he whispers, squeezing her hand, his heart breaking at the feeling of the sweat in her palms and the shakiness in her fingertips. He wants to comfort her, to soothe her. “Amelie, please.”

“I,” she breathes shakily, taking her hand and turning on her heel, her words barely above a whisper. “I need a minute.”

Harry stares sadly as Amelie walks swiftly down the walkway, locking herself in the toilet faster than he could turn around and say a word. His thoughts go over every single event that occurred since Christmas, since the day before when he flew home without her. He thinks about the kiss they shared in the car when she arrived a few days later. He thinks about all of the words they shared and the wishes they whispered between kisses beneath a mistletoe Harry sneakily hid above his bed, the way they made love, and everything felt alright.

His hands rub his cheeks harshly, his eyes stinging with tears as he thinks about their holiday and what could’ve gone wrong, what he could’ve done better. All Harry wants is Amelie.

And feeling her slipping is surely destroying him.

~

Harry could feel that something was different.

Amelie hadn’t mentioned anything, neither had Phoebe when Harry texted her asking if Amelie was alright and if something happened at Christmas that he didn’t know about. Her attitude around him was a bit different, more reserved, and it reminded him of how she was at the beginning of their relationship a year ago before she opened up and got comfortable. Boxing Day was wonderful, celebrating the day with her, making lazy love in his bed, sharing presents and having a stuffing meal with his parents and their family and friends.

And then Harry told her who would be on the yacht. Only two days before they were set to go on it and celebrate New Year’s Eve. Her reaction was less than ideal, a forced smile and a peck to the cheek and an excuse to go and reach for her phone and go to her bath early. Harry could tell that Amelie was on the phone with Phoebe, giving short responses and only asking vague questions to spare his own interest.

He wasn’t too sure what she was telling Amelie, but he didn’t think much of it. Phoebe and Harry were friends, weren’t they? There wouldn’t be, shouldn’t be, anything to worry about. He brushed off his own anxiety about their conversation and mulled about his business to ready himself for bed, but as soon as she stepped outside the ensuite in a towel and walked into the wardrobe to get dressed, Harry knew something was wrong.

Amelie was more comfortable around Harry than ever before, walking out of the bathroom naked and opting to either steal a shirt from his laundry or sleep naked on the warmer days, showering with him, talking with him about the ideas in her head for a new exhibit and the possibility of taking a few naked portraits to paint for something for herself.

But, in that very moment, as Amelie turned her face away from his and dressed in the most loose-fitting pyjamas that she could find in her half of the closet, Harry knew something was wrong.

And the days following weren’t any better, even when Harry tried to ask. He wasn’t asking in the right ways, of course, but what was the right way? How was he supposed to know? He would ask if everything was alright at dinner, or if she wanted to talk about anything before bed. She always gave the same half-hearted smile, a kiss to his cheek, and reassurance that she was alright. And Harry believed her.

Until the yacht, that is.

Harry never really understood what Amelie meant by the way people would never assume they were together, they were dating, especially based on their looks alone. He never thought much of it because everyone close and important to them knew and respected their relationship. He never had to defend himself to anyone.

Until the third day.

All day, Kendall was hanging on him, clinging to his arms, taking pictures with him. Kris snapped a few of them, encouraging the poses and the flirting and the way Harry naturally listened to the requests. Until there was one that made even him uncomfortable. Her lips much too close to his even though it was an ‘innocent kiss on the cheek’ and immediately his hands were up, and he was excusing himself.

Amelie walked away as soon as Kendall started clinging to Harry, and there was this sick feeling in her stomach – the anxiety – that was making her think about all the times she saw Jack in a similar situation, from afar acting a similar way. Logically, Amelie knew that Harry would never behave in the same way Jack did, treat her as poorly, cheat on her, tell her that she’s replaceable, that she isn’t worthy. He wouldn’t ever do that, because he loves her.

Harry loves Amelie. Right?

He found her staring at the stars, sketching mindlessly on a blanket in the quietest part of the boat. He laid down next to her, kissing her shoulder, staring at the perfect replica of how the stars and the moon look above them. He complimented her work, a heavy feeling on his chest when she simply nods and hums in appreciation. That’s the first night she doesn’t let him touch her, shying against from his wandering hands with an excuse of exhaustion and a chaste kiss to his lips.

Only coming out for breakfast, she says that she got an offer to do a few pieces for an Up and Coming Artists exhibition in Beverly Hills and is going to be staying on the boat, taking in the sun and sketching for when they go back. Harry looks at her quizzically, confused as to why she hadn’t told him when they woke up, when they shared an innocent shower together, on their way to breakfast. He murmurs his congratulations with a forced smile and a kiss on her temple, but there is something in his chest that is telling him something is wrong.

Harry peeks into their room around two, walking in with a drink and a glass of water for Amelie to have. “Come get some sunshine with us, baby,” he says, sitting beside her on the inserted loveseat in the bay window and kissing her temple, trying to ignore how her body tenses with his touch.

“Think I’m just going to take a nap,” she reasons, hiding a fake yawn behind her palm and setting her pencil and her sketchbook on the bedside table.

“Can stay if you want me to,” Harry offers, his hand on her knee and his eyes soft under the dim light of the suite. “Can do something other than a nap if you want.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Amelie sighs, forcing a smile and pulling her body away from his reach.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ames?”

“I’m fine, baby.”

Harry’s heart twinges at the name, the sound so familiar and so comforting yet feeling so off coming from her lips in that very moment. “Alright,” he sighs, leaning forward and kissing her lips lightly. “Love you.”

Amelie mumbles something under her breath, almost mistakable for simply a sigh. Harry leaves shortly after she settles under the covers, bringing the curtains down and making the room as dark as possible for the midday sun. Harry excuses Amelie for being tired with his parents, assuring them that everything was alright despite their questioning stare.

Everyone else seemed to forget she wasn’t around.

That’s when Harry noticed even more so what Amelie was talking about, and there was a pang in his chest filled with guilt. He mentioned Amelie in every other sentence, and yet, only his mother was the one that seemed to engage in the conversation. Did people think they wouldn’t last? How could anyone not realise her bright hair and shining smile and the sweetest laugh was missing from the conversation? He felt a bit angry at that and walked to another part of the boat to lay on a chair, needing to be alone with his thoughts and his emotions and settle down. He would talk to Amelie about it, later, apologise for not noticing sooner and promise to be better about it.

His thoughts were interrupted when Kendall asked to see the exhibition pictures, coming up seemingly out of nowhere and laying on the chair connected to his. Complaining about not being able to see, she tossed the towel over them, her fingertips scrolling through the pictures, asking ignorant questions that Harry wants to ignore. Had he been this dense about art before, too?

His thoughts must have been so deep in his head when he pulled the towel away from them that he didn’t notice his girlfriend standing dumbfounded at the walkway, her lips pursed together in a tight line and a numbness washing over her emotions. His jaw dropped, knowing how badly that must’ve looked to her, how this is not the first time she’s been through something similar and all the anxiety and the thoughts must be rippling through, the depression slowly resurfacing.

Amelie walked away much more calmly than she anticipated. Maybe it’s because she’s older, she doesn’t feel the need to make a scene as much. Maybe it’s because she’s embarrassed, embarrassed to think that she ever believed all that Harry told her in a year as opposed to what Jack told her for three.

Harry could replace her. Jack was right. There was no one more easily replaceable that Amelie, herself.

He nearly runs over a staff member on the way off the boat and to the hotel, sputtering apologies and shoving his sunglasses on his nose to hide himself away, his heart sinking when he sees her staring out the window with her legs to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. He spilt apologies and attempts to justify what happened and what she saw, how it was completely misconstrued. Amelie stayed quiet, nodding and humming when necessary, her thoughts circling around his explanation and to the anxiety beginning to overwhelm every emotion and every breath that sits inside her. He brushes his fingers through her hair as she stares out the window, not breathing a word.

Harry could see it happening, the impending spiral, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He wakes up from his mid-afternoon nap the next day to their suitcases clattering against the makeshift wardrobe, a string of profanities leaving her lips in a yelp of pain. His body shoots out of bed, his knuckles rubbing at his eyes, his lips parting in a yawn as he tries to speak. “Ames, what are you doing?”

“Going home,” she spits, not daring to turn around and face the half-asleep man beneath the sheets, the one that she loves more than anything and can’t picture her life without. Her voice is bitter and cold to hear, but it’s the only way she can speak without breaking into sobs. “Can come if you want, I really don’t give a shit anymore.”

“Hey,” Harry sighs, swinging his legs around the bed and padding over to her, gently prying her hands away from suitcase. His heart drops when she shakes him away and starts tossing her clothes messily into her open case. “Tell me what’s gotten into you.”

“I really don’t fucking want to, Harry.”

“Mon ange–”

“Don’t whip out the French and think I’m going to want to talk to you,” Amelie says harshly, tears spilling over her eyes and onto her cheeks and a frustrated grunt leaving her lips as she falls to her knees on the carpet. Her whole chest is caved in with her shaky breaths, her arms tucked tightly against her ribs to control her shaking.

“Amelie Fay,” Harry breathes, his hand taking her wrist, lightly tugging, “look at me.” He doesn’t let go of her hand as she stands, her broken posture making their height difference more apparent than ever as Harry looks down at her. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Do you really not fucking get it?”

“Get what?” he sighs exasperatedly, his shoulder slumping in defeat as she shakes away his touch and attempts to brush a stray hair away from her forehead. “Not really sure I get anything. Know you’re anxious, right now, and you won’t tell me why. Know that you saw what you saw yesterday, and you didn’t tell me how you felt about it. Know that you get anxiety about meeting new people but what happened in August? Talked about it and then we were good. I apologised for what you saw yesterday, but it wasn’t what you think. That’s all I can say is sorry.” He isn’t really sure what else to say. He is confused as to why Amelie won’t talk to him, why she won’t open up. “Don’t really get the difference between talking then and now.”

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters, brushing her fingers through her hair and tugging at the root, stepping over the suitcase and walking away to gain some distance. Harry can see how much she’s shaking by the way her knees are tied together.

“Maybe,” Harry admits, nodding and tucking a hair tie between his teeth while he gathers the hair at the nape of his neck, tying it in a bun on his head. “Maybe I just don’t fucking get it. Explain it to me. Make me understand.”

“Do you not see that people don’t see us together? Because you only act that way around your family, and your close friends, Harry. Never the people that are going to talk about it.” Harry can see how hurt Amelie is by the words she’s saying, by the truth held behind every syllable and the way she has to stare at his chest or his knees, avoiding his eyes altogether. Confrontation was never Amelie’s forte, and having to do it in an unfamiliar environment made her want to be sick. “Can’t even look at you, right now.”

“Well, I’m not walking away, so look at me.” Harry’s words are stern in comparison to how unsteady and shaky he feels inside. He feels as though all of his bones are limp, all of his muscles disintegrated and all the emotions that made him feel strong and capable have fallen to his feet and out of reach. He can feel this beginning to end, and not in a way that he wants. “I don’t get why you’re being like this. Ames, we’ve been together for nearly a year,” he confesses, his words not thought out before tumbling from his lips. He should know why Amelie is feeling this way, he does know. He isn’t thinking. That’s the problem. “Tell me why I would want anyone fucking else. Make it make sense to me.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Harry,” Amelie groans, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the way his arms are crossed in front of his chest. Harry either stood in that pose or with his hands on his hips when he’s angry. Her nostrils flare as she scoffs at the idea. “This isn’t about you.”

“Then, what is it about?”

Amelie waits a moment, thinking carefully of her words and taking a deep breath. All of the thoughts in her head are suddenly clear as she steps towards him, her arms folded in front of her chest like his and mocking his stance. “You don’t think about me,” she says firmly, confident in the words that she’s speaking into the air, as much as they break her heart into pieces, “when it comes to people that are in a different world from me. Get it, you know, I don’t fit in with your friends, I’m not the stereotypical person that you hang out with based on my looks. I’m not good enough to be with you. Knew that from the get-go.” Amelie blinks rapidly, forcing herself to stay hard on the exterior and not shed a tear. “Didn’t think it’d wind up with someone throwing themselves at you in front of me, though.” Harry’s eyes well up, closing his parted lips and tucking his chin to his chest. “Thought it was different with us, you know? Thought that all those times you said it was me that is good enough for you and that everything he said was wrong, that you meant it. Thought that you really wanted me.”

Neither Harry nor Amelie dares to utter Jack’s name, anymore.

“I did mean it,” Harry whispers, tears welling in his eyes and his heart shattering into a million pieces in his chest. He can feel the splinters of the arteries and ventricles against his ribs, ripping at his muscles as the pieces of his heart fall to the pit of his stomach. “I do mean it.”

“Harry, I saw the way you were interacting and talking to everyone.” Her eyes fall to her feet, her cheeks tinged a shade of red that splotches whenever she begins to cry. Harry knows that his heart is over when a tear falls down her cheek. “Have to be so much more careful and on guard with me. Don’t even look happy when you talk to me anymore. Comfortable, that’s all we are. That’s not fair,” she hiccups, sniffling and wiping the tear away with her sweatshirt sleeve. “Not fair to either of us, really.”

“Doll.”

“Don’t, Harry. I just want to go home. Don’t feel like you have to come. Don’t want to ruin your holiday.”

“Only a holiday because you’re here,” Harry says softly, his hands wiping away the tears on his cheeks as Amelie turns away, her eyes staring down at the intimidatingly empty suitcase. They always helped each other pack and unpack, and now she would have to do so alone. “Can you wait like, fifteen minutes? Don’t go anywhere without me.” Amelie nods silently, not wanting to see the ounce of hope glimmer in the emerald eyes that draw her in. “I’ll figure out how to get us home, today.”

Angrily wiping the tears from her eyes and leaning down to start putting her clothing away, she nods, not daring to meet Harry’s intense stare. Amelie thought about making a scene, screaming at the top of her lungs that Harry is an asshole and she hates him and never wants to see him, again. Maybe, she’ll even say she doesn’t love him, just to twist the knife.

That wasn’t something Amelie could do though, because while, yes, Harry can be an asshole sometimes, she doesn’t hate him and, more than anything, she wants to see him every single second of every day for the rest of her life. And, fuck, would she be lying if she said she doesn’t love him with her whole heart.

Harry bypasses anyone that gets in his way, walking straight to his mother and stepfather’s room with tears in his eyes, silently praying that they would have the answer to his question. He knocks three times, Robin’s voice ushering Harry to enter and their eyes wide with concern as his hair is tied into a messy knot on his head and his eyes are red with tears.

“Don’t know what I did wrong and now she wants to go home and she’s acting really weird and I’m worried. Amelie is worrying me. Think she’s going to leave me,” Harry speeds, all of his words jumbled together and his thoughts overwhelming and bringing him to tears. “Don’t think she’s going to talk to me ever again when we go home.”

“Harry,” Anne says softly, standing from her chair in the corner of the room and leaving her teacup on the plate, walking over to her son standing distressed in the middle of their room, “what are you talking about? You live together. This is just an argument. It happens.”

“No, Mum,” Harry sniffles, knuckling his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. “Didn’t,” he hiccups, tears streaming down his cheeks, “Didn’t defend our relationship to people, let other people take pictures all over me, barely showed her any love like she should have felt. And I made her feel like Jack did.”

That sentence breaks Harry apart.

“Honey, I’m sure that’s not true,” Anne sighs, wrapping him in a hug and embracing the boy that is much too tall to be cradled into his mother, like this. Harry needs the hug, though, and she would never deny him, nor his sister, that.

“But it is, Mum, because she said that she thought she was wanted by me and that there isn’t any happiness when we speak to each other. That’s exactly how she used to feel with Jack.”

“Harry,” she soothes, rubbing his back calmingly and gently prying him away from her embrace, her hands holding his shoulders to properly look into his eyes and speak, “it’s some communication issues. That’s fixable.”

“Not with her anxiety, Mum,” Harry argues, knowing his girlfriend, the love of his life, better than he’s ever known, anyone. He takes a deep breath, all of his thoughts ready to be rushed into one sentence. “She’s going to cut me out. Promised herself she’d never go through this, again. Said she’d cut ties with anyone that made her feel that way.” He takes a moment to breathe, tears falling down his cheeks, “I made Amelie feel that way.”

“Have to talk to her, Harry,” Robin says, scratching his fingertips over his beard lightly. “Don’t think you apply to that rule, you know? Different when you love someone. Jack didn’t love her; he did things maliciously. You love Amelie and didn’t try to hurt her.”

“But whatever I did,” Harry hiccups, stepping away from his mother and leaning against the dresser in the corner, his arms folded in front of his chest, “I hurt her. I said things that weren’t thoughtful.” His hands rub his face in frustration. “Made her feel like I don’t want her. How can I ever come back from that?”

“Have to talk and assure her that you do,” Robin tells him, sighing and heaving a breath as he stands from the bed and walks over to him. “Harry, you know Amelie better than anyone – you know what’s best.” His hand holds Harry’s shoulder, forcing him to meet his stare. “If she’s really not feeling well, then you two can fly home tomorrow when we dock for the rest of the trip. Have to have a serious conversation, though.”

Amelie is asleep and curled into one of Harry’s sweaters by the time he stalks back to the room.

“Can I lay with you?”

Amelie nods silently, graciously accepting his arms around her and allowing her eyes to flutter shut with the feeling of his lips on the back of her neck sweetly.

“Know that you want to go back to California, and we need to talk,” Harry whispers, his lips touching her skin and savouring the way her curls fall in his face. “Booked a flight for tomorrow for us to get the hell out of here and go home.” Her hands hold his tighter around her waist, making sure that he won’t let go. “Let me hold you, tonight, please.”

Amelie sucks in a deep breath and brushes a stray tear away from her cheeks, rolling around and tucking further into Harry’s chest, his hands holding her tightly and breathing in the saltwater clinging to her hair.

Harry’s eyes are shut, and he is nearly asleep when Amelie’s fingertips trail up his chest, her thumbs tracing along his jaw and her lips sponging light kisses on his cheek. His hand squeezes her hips, encouraging her to continue, his head rolling against the pillow to give her more room. He can feel the tension in the air, the way all of their thoughts and words are being held in the base of the throat to avoid ruining this moment.

“Love me,” Amelie whispers, moulding her lips with his and coaxing his body to lay above hers. Her movements are slow and steady, almost as if she was memorising how each kiss, each touch, each breath feels against her for the last time. “Don’t think about it, just love me.”

But how can Harry not think about it? His chest is tight because he knows that something is coming, something he is going to hate. He can feel the unspoken words on his tongue, the anger in his chest, the hurt in his emotions.

“I do, I do love you.” He interlocks their fingers and quietly, passionately makes love to her beneath the covers, professing his love to her in kisses and touches and moans. He can taste the vulnerability, the things left unsaid. He feels as though this is the only way he can know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. Harry hates that.

Harry squeezes her hands, kissing her deeply and professing his love in the only way he knows. He takes her in his arms, holding her, feeling the tacky skin against his and the panted breaths on his cheeks, not mentioning the tears in his neck. Amelie shuts her eyes, pretending that if she falls asleep all of the negative thoughts and emotions in her head will disappear.

All they want is to pretend like they’re okay, even if it’s just while they sleep.

And in the morning, Harry woke up without her. Her suitcase was in the corner of the room, a note saying that she’s gone to have breakfast with his parents to say goodbye. Goodbye sounds so final in her note, it makes his stomach turn. Harry puts on his bravest face, his fakest smile, and walks out, joining the group for breakfast and playing into Amelie’s lie that she wasn’t feeling too well and had some work to get done, and they would be going home to help her feel better. Anne didn’t mention that Harry went to them in a panic, and by Harry’s stern stares, she doesn’t dare to think he mentioned it either.

Harry insists on carrying her luggage and being the proper gentleman, he should have been from the day they walked onto the boat, but he couldn’t take back what he didn’t do. He knows that Amelie is anxious, and there is a slight relief of pressure when she lets him hold her hand through security and the escort to their plane, her head on his chest, her hood pulled above her wet hair.

That was it. Five days of bliss turned into two days of disaster. Harry’s world turned upside down.

And he wasn’t too sure how to fix it.

~

Harry’s heart sinks when Amelie walks quietly to their seats, her hand touching his shoulder to tell him that his legs need to move to accompany her and his hands settle in his lap. Her eyes are red-rimmed and there are tears lingering on her eyelashes, her lips plump and reddened with biting into the flesh to mask her crying.

“Got you some water.”

“Thanks,” she whispers, forcing a smile as she takes the water from his hands and twists the cap open, taking a long sip and setting the bottle in her bag before leaning against the seat, her eyes squeezing shut. “Need to sleep for the rest of the flight before m’brain implodes.”

“Migraine?”

Amelie nods, tears welling in her eyes as the pain echoes through her. Harry opens his arms, grateful that she nods and lifts the armrest, tucking her arms around his waist and cuddling into his chest. His kiss lingers on her forehead, his fingers gently scratching the nape of her neck and cuddling her closely into his warmth, into his embrace around her. Her breathing is slower, her lips parted with pants as she falls asleep easily in his arms.

Harry can feel the tension disappearing as Amelie drifts asleep, yet he knows that whatever’s to come at home is only going to be worse.

/ / /

Comfortable silence is fucking overrated. That’s how Harry feels, right now.

Harry feels that there is no such thing, especially when it can be felt in his bones as his heart is ripping through his chest, leaving scars and tears along the way, that his girlfriend is going to tell him that she’s leaving and doesn’t want to be with him anymore. His love, the love of his life is silent, disappearing before his eyes, and there is nothing, no way to prevent it.

Comfortable silence is meant for the moments in the early morning as the sun is rising and birds are chirping and he’s made love to his girl and they’re falling asleep together, once more. Comfortable silence is meant for the moments where she’s sketching the beach as they lay in his boot at their favourite lookout point, Malibu’s prettiest beaches laid out before them. Comfortable silence is meant for the moments where she’s cuddled into his chest, watching their favourite programmes or reading her favourite books, only speaking to read a quote or a specific line that strikes her.

Comfortable silence is not meant for the quiet moments before your heart is broken.

“Think,” Amelie stutters, running her fingers through her hair and pushing her fringe out of her eyes, the curls that Harry loves tied into a messy knot at the base of her neck and a light sheen of sweat clinging to her forehead from anxiety. “Think we need to take a break. Have a bit of space for a while.”

“No,” Harry says, frustratedly setting his head in his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs. He won’t look Amelie in the face. Her eyes are glossy and dim of their colour and staring into her eyes will make him break down into tears. Her features are cold and seemingly heartless as if all the love she’s ever had for him has disappeared. Maybe that’s what makes this hurt more.

Harry will never not love her.

“Harry,” she sighs, biting at the inside of her cheek and taking a hesitant step towards him. His hand immediately moves away from his face to stop her, shaking his head and returning his stare to his feet.

“Amelie, don’t. I’m well aware that I fucked up and I hurt you, but please don’t fucking say that to me,” he spits, his voice cut with a rasp and the thickness in his accent, the swears burning the tension in the air with a wave of vulnerable anger.

“Harry,” Amelie breathes, her nails digging into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped indents in her skin. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her skin tinging pink with her rising blood pressure. Her mind is overwhelmed with thoughts and reactions and dizziness that makes her believe she might pass out, “listen to me.”

“I really don’t fucking want to when you’re breaking up with me,” Harry says, pinching his bottom lip between his fingertips and taking a deep breath with his next thought. “Do you want to date other people? Is that it? God, please don’t fucking tell me that either.”

“Quit swearing at me and listen to me.”

Harry’s eyes meet her stare, the intensity in her voice, the anger, the volume a height he’s never heard her speak before. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, her fingertip digging into her temple and trying to relieve the headache. Harry wanted to kiss the pout off her lips. “Don’t want to hear it.” He shakes the thoughts out of his head, away from his mind. “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me.”

“Can you stop being so fucking thick-headed?” she groans, throwing her arms in the air in frustration and rolling her head against her neck, her nostrils flaring as she inhales a deep breath. “God, Harry, you don’t get it.”

“No, Amelie, I really don’t.”

“Can’t handle everything that’s going on in my head with you breathing down my neck,” Amelie says, controlling her temperament and her anxiety, the queasiness sitting in the base of her throat, her head swirling.

“Oh, so sorry ‘m caring about you, then,” Harry sneered, the sarcasm dripping in each syllable and the anger visible in the striking vein in his forehead. Amelie could have sworn that he was beginning to hate her. “How insensitive of me.”

How could you think Harry wouldn’t hate you after this?

“For fuck’s sake, Harry,” she shouts, her body slinking against the dresser and hitting her head against the wooden frame, her knees tucked to her chest. “Get over yourself for a minute.”

Harry shuts his mouth, not daring to say another word. Harry has never seen Amelie this angry, especially not with him.

“’m trying to understand something,” she mumbles, her glossy eyes cast to the ceiling, a betraying tear slipping down her cheek. “Why the hell is it okay for you to get jealous when someone flirts with me, but as soon as I’m upset over someone literally throwing themselves on you, I’m the fucking problem? Like, make that make sense to me, Harry.”

“Don’t care when people flirt with you as much as you think.” Harry is lying through his teeth. His greatest flaw is his jealousy. Maybe not the greatest considering admitting that he’s wrong is his least favourite thing to do, but it certainly is a weakness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Fine, I get fucking jealous. Tell me something I don’t already know,” Harry retorts, sighing heavily and knocking his head against his neck, his ability to control his anger wearing all too thin.

“Harry, you don’t think about anyone but you, sometimes, and I’m fucking tired of it,” she snaps, the sentence cutting through him like the sharpest knife, tearing at his stomach and his heart and the emotional control that was rooted in his chest. Her heart was begging her to not hurt him, but her brain was screaming to make him feel the way she does. “Did you think about how I would feel if I saw you – which fucking happened – laying like that? Did you think about how I would feel listening to everyone talk about your relationship with her when I was sitting right beside you? Did you ever even fucking think of me?”

“God, I think about you all the time! You take up all the space in my head. There isn’t one thought that isn’t wrapped around you,” he yells, his voice overpowering hers and making her sink deeper into her knees. Harry’s heart falls into his stomach seeing her shy away from him. “Can’t understand how you’re so insecure about it all the damn time,” he says, shaking his head and standing, holding his hand out to her and frowning when she refuses to touch him. He drops his hand, walking away and spitting out before he could properly think, “Could go out any fucking time of day and girls would throw themselves at me to fuck me.” His mouth snaps shut at the comment, turning on his heel and walking to her, the anger still digging in his veins and making his apology come out in the worst way possible. “Doesn’t mean I fucking do it.”

“Get the fuck away from me.” Her voice is broken and distraught as she stands on her feet, her height not nearly reaching Harry’s but her hands angrily pushing him away from her. “Girls throw themselves at you?” she snickers, carding her fingers through her hair and pushing it away from her eyes. Her blood is boiling so much that the tears in her eyes have evaporated. “Good, you arrogant son of a bitch, I’m glad that they do. Go get one.”

“Fine,” Harry spits, his jaw tense and his eyes widening at Amelie walks to the bedroom door that was shut and locked when they walked in with their suitcases earlier that morning. “Maybe I fucking will.”

“Don’t let the door fucking hit you on the way out.” Her hand yanks the knob, nearly turning it loose. Her eyes portray the hurt, the betrayal, the pain. Harry swears that wouldn’t recognise her, wouldn’t recognise the anger and the hate in her eyes. “Don’t come back either.”

You hate me. I’ve made you hate me.

Harry masks his upset in the harshest tone he can muster, blinking away tears in his eyes. “Don’t think I will.”

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw and staring at the bedroom door. His stomps are heavy into the corridor, his feet moving against the stairwell fast and his hand swinging the front door open and slamming it behind him. He wouldn’t look back. Harry was more than able to get into his car, drive to the nearest bar, and meeting a girl to simply fuck wherever they wanted, wherever they could. Quick and fast. Means nothing. Forget about Amelie. Forget it.

That’s what he needed to do, isn’t it?

Harry gets into his car, turning on the engine and speeding out of the drive, his vision blurring and eyes welling with tears as swerves into a parking space and turn the engine, his hand slamming against the steering wheel as sobs wrack through his body. His thoughts running over every horrible thing he said, his heart broken and tearing through his ribs, scratching and making his entire chest burn with guilt and shame. Thinking about forgetting Amelie would include forgetting everything.

Harry would be forced to forget the kisses, the touches, the love. He would be forced to forget the conversations in a language he learnt for her, the secrets they shared together that belonged to them and only them. Forgetting the lovemaking and the way his hands and his lips knew Amelie’s body like a map, like their intimacy, their connected moments were a treasure.

Cheating on Amelie would ruin everything. Harry couldn’t do that.

Harry turns the engine, cranking his steering wheel and driving home, the highway made through rush hour and taking much longer than he wanted to get there, to get to her. He is expecting Amelie to be gone, to have packed her bags in the thirty minutes he’s been out, to pretend that Harry never existed in her life and move on. His chest heaves in the slightest relief when her car is unmoved in the drive, yet he knows that Jenny or Fay could have gathered her. He stalks to the front door, his knuckles turning white around the doorknob, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to force the oncoming tears at bay, his thoughts scattered and unable to fully make sense.

His shoes stay at the platform of the stairwell, his hand holding onto the bannister and his feet trudging up the stairs as he makes his way to the bedroom. He can see that the light is on, but there he has very little faith that she will be inside. His hand pushes the door open, his eyes welling with tears when he notices the suitcases on the carpet and clothes being tossed inside messily. Harry swears that he’s never seen Amelie so angry, and it breaks him to know that he’s the reason why.

You can’t fix this. You can’t make this better. You’ve ruined this. You’ve ruined the best thing to ever happen to you.

Amelie’s voice is dripping in sarcasm and bitterness, her voice travelling around the bedroom as she forces her favourite sweatshirts – not his, his is in the laundry bin near what is her side of the bed, she must not want it anymore – into the deepest part of the suitcase. “Oh, what’s wrong? No one wanted to be part responsible for you cheating on your girlfriend?”

Harry closes the door, taking a step towards her and making the conscious decision to sit on the chest behind her. Amelie ordered it online a few months ago, saying that they would keep all their memory albums in there and one day it would be filled to the brim. He doesn’t anticipate that being the case, anymore. “Amelie, I was just showing her pictures of the exhibit. Had my towel over our faces because the sun was too bright, and we couldn’t see.”

“Don’t want to hear you say things that you don’t mean, Harry.”

“Fucking swear on m’life, Ames. I’d never cheat on you.”

Amelie tears too hard at her lip, swearing and angrily standing on her feet, tears staining her cheeks as she stares at Harry, disappointment in her eyes. “And what if I don’t believe you? Felt pretty confident in your ability to tell me that you could walk outside and have someone to go fuck in your car or wherever you decide to fucking do it.” Harry stands up, meeting her halfway and standing directly in front of her. “Go,” she shouts, pushing angrily at his chest and staring at the way he refuses to move, a tear falling down his cheek. “Go fuck someone, Harry. See if I fucking care.” Amelie gulps, heaving a shaky breath as her index finger pushes into his chest, “You won’t be the first person to hurt me and I bet you won’t be the fucking last.”

“Amelie,” Harry whispers, his hands lightly holding onto her shoulders, his mouth curving into a pout and his eyes squeezing shut, tears falling down his cheeks. “Amelie Fay.”

“Don’t use my whole fucking name,” she says, her hands shaking so roughly that her sweatshirt sleeve – one that’s marked with the pipe drawing – isn’t able to wipe away her tears. “You know what? Maybe I’ll go fuck someone else. How’s that sound? I’ll go fuck someone else and forget all about you.” Hiccups sound through the air as Amelie struggles to breathe. “Maybe that’s what I’ll fucking do.”

“Hey, Ames,” Harry sighs, taking her hands in his, holding her wrists tightly and bringing her hands to his chest, “look at me.”

“Fuck you, Harry.”

“Amelie, I made you that promise a year ago that I would never cheat on you, and I intend on keeping it.” Harry brings Amelie’s hands closer to his mouth, wanting to kiss her fingertips, her knuckles, her wrists, her arms, every inch that makes her. “Didn’t and wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“And what if I don’t believe you, Harry?”

“Deserve it, I do. I deserve that,” Harry breathes, nodding and kissing each fingertip. “Can’t change what I did,” he whispers, kissing the back of her hands and her wrists. “Have to do all that I can to make you trust me, again.”

“Tell me what you would’ve done if that was me,” she hiccups, tears stinging her eyes, her chest too tight to gain a breath. “Tell me what you would do if I fucked someone else.”

This can’t be happening. Harry is going to leave. Harry isn’t going to be your boyfriend anymore. You’re going to be alone. This is what Jack wanted. This is what he is waiting for. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You can’t go back to Jack. You can’t. Harry can’t leave. This can’t be happening.

“But I didn’t–”

“Tell me.”

“Feel sick to m’stomach,” he confesses, his eyes squeezing shut to try and erase the image of anyone touching her. “Find whoever it was and break their hand for touching you.” His words are barely above a whisper. “Get m’self in a lot of trouble, I reckon.”

“Can you imagine having a fucking horrible day and then walking outside, needing the comfort of your girlfriend, to see her wrapped up in someone’s arms, a towel was thrown over them, not able to see what the fuck they’re doing? How would that make you feel?” Amelie mutters, unable to muster a voice loud enough, strong enough to yell. Her energy is gone. All of her will to make this better is gone. Harry’s lost from her.

“Not very fucking good,” Harry murmurs, gently raising her sleeve, goosebumps prickling her skin, his lips sponging wet kisses along her arms, salty tears on his cheeks. His heart craves her touch. He needs to be kissing her. His mind is a mess, too many thoughts and feelings in his head, all unfiltered and tearing him apart.

Tell me how to make this better. I want to make it better. Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave.

“What would you do in that situation? Tell me.”

“Be angry,” he whispers, planting his lips on her neck and delicately kissing her skin, soaking in the way that – even in her anger – her head tilts and makes space for him to leave his mark. “Take that fucking towel off of you and demand an explanation.”

“Tell me what I did,” she breathes, her fingertips curling around the collar of his sweatshirt. As much as Harry has hurt and angered her, her heart is longing for his lips on her.

Make it better. Fix this. Do something to make me want to stay. Do something to show me that we’ll be okay.

“Nothing.”

Harry gently grabs Amelie’s cheeks, kissing her deeply and squeezing his eyes shut, savouring in the way her tongue so effortlessly moves with his and their lips are perfectly aligned, her taste tingling his senses and sparking emotions that made his skin itch to be one with hers. All Harry wants is to love her. “Don’t kiss me.”

Amelie’s words are a betrayal on everything she really wants. His fingers tangle in her hair, pulling the curls out and having her scent wash over him. His breaths are hot against her lips, barely pulling away from her kiss to speak, “Baby, kiss me and make it better. Can make it better, I know it. I’ll fix this. Please.”

“Can’t. No,” Amelie hiccups, a fresh set of tears falling down her cheeks as her hands push Harry away, shaking away the grasp on her wrists. “Promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”

Harry’s voice is unsteady, shaking with every syllable. He is losing the love of his life. Amelie is already gone. “Didn’t cheat on you, I swear on my life. This is all a big misunderstanding. Please don’t leave me.”

“Maybe it is a misunderstanding,” she sighs, rubbing her hands over her face and trying to ignore the burning sensation in her lips, the one that makes her want to kiss him. Harry takes a step towards her, his shoulders slumping as she takes a step away. “But you can’t take back what you said, Harry. Told me that it wasn’t that big of a deal that they were talking about your past relationships, that you were taking pictures the way you were. Hate to break it to you, but just because Jack isn’t around physically doesn’t mean that all the things that were said to me aren’t in my head all the damn time.” Harry notices Amelie’s bottom lip quivering, and every single part of him wants to take her in his arms and comfort her, soothe the ache in her chest that he is the reason for. “Think about it all the time how I’m not good enough for you, how it’s so clear that I don’t deserve a love like the one you’ve shown me.” Her breathing is shaky and passing through parted lips in pants, and Harry is sure that she’s going to give herself an asthma attack at any moment. “But this, Harry, this broke me. Can’t you see that?”

Harry is silent for a minute, trying to gather all of his thoughts and have something to say, something that is worthy of forgiveness. “Can see it, I can. I fucked up. I’m so sorry,” he musters, his teeth biting into his cheek nervously, his eyes blinking away tears as Amelie turns on her heel and makes her way to the bedroom door. Harry quickly follows behind her, their feet light against the wooden stairs, his hand reaching out and grabbing her wrist as they reach the platform and lightly tugging her to look at him. “I love you, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Need to get out for a little while.”

“Are you,” Harry whispers, releasing her wrist and scratching the nape of his neck. “Are you coming back?”

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. Please. Don’t be reckless.” Harry’s thoughts are everywhere and anywhere and the thought of losing her because she was crying or upset and driving recklessly makes him want to be sick. “Call me if you need me. I love you.”

Amelie nods, pursing her lips together in a tight line and rubbing the tears on her cheeks with her sweatshirt sleeve. Harry is behind her on the stairs, his eyes welling with tears as she grabs her keys and rushes out the door. Her teeth chatter as soon as the wind hits her cheeks, the January air crisp and much colder than anticipated for California. Her engine turns over, her hands tossing her phone and her wallet onto the passenger seat, her mind taking her to the place where she promised she would never go to again.

Jack doesn’t recognise her new car. His fingers nurse a cigarette, the smoke blowing from between his lips. His oblivion is only slightly comforting, as it doesn’t take away from the way his eyes refuse to tear away from the tinted windows and the navy colour of her car. He was always intrigued to understand what he shouldn’t have, and that interested Amelie at first until it was her that he couldn’t have.

Christ, Amelie, what the fuck are you doing here? Do you want something to happen? Are you fucking insane?

Amelie’s body shakes with sobs, nails digging into her thighs and her forehead leaning against the steering wheel, her head pounding with a migraine and her vision blurring with tears. Her life is falling apart at the seams, all of her emotions shattered and destroyed in a matter of days. All that she had, all that she knew is gone. Her love, the love of her life, the one that she wants to spend forever with, disappearing before her very eyes. Harry wouldn’t want her after this, as much as it was said so.

I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t do this. I don’t want this.

Her cheeks bleed with the tiny rips her teeth gnash into her skin, her fingertips digging into her eyes, her nose running, her blood pressure is high – too high – and her consciousness is drifting.  Amelie’s mind sets into a panic, her fingertips rushing to lock her doors and moving to recline her seat all the way back, her eyes squeezing shut as her fingertips rollover pressure points, trying to draw the queasiness away and her thoughts to sort enough to drive home.

Harry would help you if you were home. Harry wouldn’t let you get like this. That’s what he was trying to avoid. He just wants to talk.

And for the thirty minutes that Amelie is laying down, strictly focusing on her breathing, trying to regain the strength to drive home, willing her migraine to dissipate and the fog in her brain to clear, her mind is replaying Harry saying “I love you” as she walked out the door.

Harry is calling, Amelie can hear her phone vibrating on the ground. Her migraine is slowly fading, the darkness surrounding her making it much easier to calm down. Her eyes stare up at the moon, wondering why at this time all of the stars are failing to align. Her hands grapple for her phone and her wallet, tucking the wallet in the centre console and opening her screen, there are four missed calls and seven text messages. Clicking on the voicemail, Harry’s voice rings through the radio, the engine turned over and ready to be driven home.

“Hey, uh, it’s me. Know that you needed to get out, and ’m sorry for bothering you,” Harry begins, his voice shaky and nervous. “Come home, Ames. I, um, I want to talk this out.” His anxiety is heard in the rasp clutching every syllable. “Think that we can get over this, you know? ‘s hard, we say things we don’t mean, but that doesn’t mean to have to say goodbye.” Harry is sniffling, now. “Please don’t go to Jack. Don’t do that.” He coughs to mask a choked out sob. “Come home. Fuck, I meant to say please. Je t’aime. I love you, I’m sorry. Please come back.”

Amelie clicks on the second message.

Harry’s voice is a bit softer, more tender. “Ames, I’m worried. Call me back. At least tell me if you’re alright.”

Third message.

His voice is harsh and etched in the thickest accent Amelie has ever heard. “Amelie, I’m going to come and find you if you don’t call me back soon.”

Fourth message.

“Amelie, please, baby.” Harry is crying. His voice is barely above a whisper and his nose is slightly stuffed as he takes a deep breath in. “Please be okay. I need you. Please.”

All the way home, Amelie is thinking about Harry saying that she’s needed, that he needs her. Her heart is entirely his. All of her, every thought, every breath, every painting, every idea, includes him, his love, the way his support has changed how Amelie thinks. Her mind can’t tear away from the insecurities, though, the way all of what Jack has once said to her clings to her thoughts and her doubts when Harry even slightly behaves in a way that she isn’t used to. Amelie is more than aware that therapy takes time and having to admit to Harry that she needs time to find a way to love herself before they can be together makes her want to break, once more.

Fuck, I love him. I love him so much. I can’t go through this. I can’t have him hate me.

Harry is sitting at the dining table, staring at his phone when Amelie walks inside, throwing everything onto the table beside the door and tossing her trainers messily in the closet. He immediately stands, rushing over and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, bringing her into a hug and tucking his face in her hair, breathing her in, tears wetting her scalp as he squeezes her.

“Hi,” Amelie whispers against his chest.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, kissing her temple and laying his forehead against her head, his fingers carding through her hair. “Fuck, you’re okay. Thank God you’re okay.”

“Almost passed out in the car, and I had to lie down.”

Harry pulls away, staring at her intently, taking in the flushed cheeks and sweat beading at her forehead, her lips slightly parted and chapped from heavy breaths. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if something worse happened. “Amelie, you should’ve called me.”

Amelie gulps, licking her lips and blinking slowly, “My phone fell on the ground and I couldn’t reach it.”

“Gon’a get you a warm flannel and some water,” Harry says, kissing her temple once more and walking into the kitchen to fill her water bottle from the cabinet, handing her the light pink flask and nodding towards the stairs. “Do you need help getting up the stairs?”

“Can walk, it’s fine.”

Harry nods respectively, walking carefully behind her with a hand on her back to steady her, her legs slightly wobbly as she holds on to the bannister. He quietly shuts the bedroom door behind them, walking straight into the bathroom and running the warm water over a washcloth, wringing out the excess and taking a breath. His eyes blink away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, walking into the bedroom and sighing at the sight of his girlfriend – if he could still call her that – sitting with her legs hanging over the side of the bed.

“Think we should talk,” she whispers, exhaustion in her eyes, her fingertips tracing over the tattoos on her thighs.

“Can talk in the morning, you need to rest,” Harry says, shutting the light and setting the cloth in her hands, his fingertips brushing her fringe away from her forehead. His thumb presses into the button of the lamp on her bedside table, drawing the curtains closed and readying the bedroom for the night. Harry is silently hoping that he’ll be able to fall asleep with Amelie once more before she leaves him.

Amelie grabs his hand, standing on her feet and setting the towel on the wooden table. “Harry.”

“Amelie, I–”

“Know that you love me,” Amelie says, her heart breaking as Harry’s eyes begin to well with tears, his hand held over hers on his chest. “Know that, I do. Have to give me time, though. Can’t love you the way you deserve if ‘m not okay, if ‘m not loving myself.” Her thumb brushes the tears from his cheek. “Unintentionally, we’re hurting each other by not talking, especially me, and we’re just using words to hurt each other. That’s not something I want for you, Harry. That’s not something I want for either of us.”

“Need you to tell me what you want, what you need from me,” Harry sighs, tears staining his cheeks and his tongue trying to wet his chapped lips. “Tell me how to fix this.”

“Have to forgive each other, Harry. Our words, our argument was cruel. That wasn’t fair to either of us,” she whispers, her thumbs soft against his dry skin. “Think we need a few weeks apart, that’s all. Like you’re on tour or I’m doing a mural. That’s all you have to think of it as.”

“But it’s not,” he breathes, his hand gently moving her wrist away from his face, “we’re in the same city, the same house, Ames.”

“I’m going to stay with Mama and Papa and Phoebe for a week or two,” Amelie reasons, shying away from Harry as he denies her touch. Her fear of being rejected by him is overwhelming her senses. “This way we have that space.”

“Don’t have a studio at your parent’s house, and that’ll drive you insane.” Harry knows Amelie better than he knows himself. His heart couldn’t stand to see her break without having her art and her space to breathe. “Can you just stay here? Have me bring some things into the guest room and leave in the morning and come back late at night, I don’t care.”

“But, where will you go?”

His nails scratch at his head, his chin tucked against his chest and his knuckles rubbing at his eyes to rid the tears. “Don’t know, I’ll make myself busy during the day.”

“Don’t want you to think ‘m a horrible person for this, Harry,” she whispers, her fingertips beginning to pull at her lips, the slightly metallic taste of blood on her lips causing her to swear.

“Hey, hey,” Harry sighs, gently prying her hands away from her face and bringing her into his chest. His arms wrap around her shoulders, tucking her arms around his waist and preventing her from subconsciously hurting herself more. “Don’t do that, you’re okay.”

“’m sorry.”

Harry gently rubs her back, his nose tucked into her hair as she cries into his chest, her breathing shaky and panted against his chest. His heart breaks for his love, wishing desperately he could take her pain away, take away all that was done to her, all that he did to her. “’s okay, angel. ‘ve got you.”

“’s all m’fault.”

“’m guilty, too,” Harry sighs, fingertips brushing through her curls and holding her tighter in his warmth. “Don’t blame yourself for everything. This isn’t all your fault. Not like we’re breaking up, yeah? Couple weeks to take some time to breathe and get ourselves together, and then we’ll come back and talk.”

Harry’s hand releases her hair, laying in the centre of her back and soothingly rubbing her spine, Amelie’s eyes meeting his. “Can you stay with me, tonight?”

“Don’t know how good of an idea that is, Ames,” he breathes, tucking a strand of hair away from her forehead and behind her ear, “for either of us.” His chest heaves with a breath, his mind and heart conflicted with what he wants. “Like you said, we were just so cruel to each other.”

“Harry,” she whispers, tears spilling over and her fingertips clutching his hips.

“Don’t cry, please. I’m here,” Harry sighs, his thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks, his lips touching her forehead and her cheeks. “I’ll stay. Don’t cry. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t go out and fall in love with someone else, okay? Need you to come back to me.”

“Couldn’t and wouldn’t dream of it, mon ange.” Harry gently brings her chin up, his eyes meeting hers, his lips hesitantly pressing to hers to emphasise his statement. “’s you and me, that’s it.”

“Don’t hate me, please.”

“Could never hate you,” Harry assures, brushing the hair away from her neck and lightly kissing her jaw.

“Kiss me,” Amelie whispers, squeezing his hips and mending their lips together. Her eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, her lips slightly rough and dry compared to the gentle feeling of his. His hands grip under her thighs, delicately laying her on the bed and slanting his lips on hers, peeling their clothing slowly and tossing it onto the carpet.

“Never wanted to make you sad,” Harry whispers against her lips. “I’m so sorry.”

“Know that,” she sighs, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him, silencing his words to hide away the tears that were waiting to fall down her cheeks. “Don’t talk. Make love to me, that’s all.”

“Have to know that I love you.”

“I do, I know.”

Harry and Amelie make love under the tangled sheets of their once shared bed, tears shed, and arms held tightly around each other, quiet whimpers and moans sharing the love and sadness and emotions pouring through them.

Harry clutches Amelie’s naked body against his chest, his fingertips carding through her knotted curls and his lips touching her hairline. “Are we going to talk?”

“Mean, we’re still living together,” she breathes, her fingertips tracing over the birdcage on his ribs. Her throat is dry, the feeling of every emotion rushing through her brain and her migraine beginning to resurface. “Expect us to.”

“And I’ll be there for the exhibition,” Harry says reassuringly, the darkness lingering over their bedroom intimidating to the heartache that is panging their chests.

“Know you will.”

His words are pleading, his fingertips tucking under her chin and bringing her to meet his stare. His heart is so broken. “Can I do anything to change your mind? Anything.”

“Harry,” Amelie sighs, shaking her head and delicately kissing his jaw. Her body sinks further into his embrace, her eyes closing and her hand splaying over the expanse of his back.

“Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime davantage.”

Harry stares at the ceiling, his arm wound tightly around his love. His mind is racing, too many thoughts overwhelming him and too many emotions circulating through, taking his breath away and making his heart feel small in the pit of his stomach, his ribs caved in and puncturing holes in his lungs. His cheeks wet with tears, his hand wiping at the betrayal and falling to where her arm is draped over his waist. Harry’s never noticed before, but Amelie always seems smaller when they’re tucked in bed together when there is the rare opportunity to cuddle her when her hair is falling over her face and her lips are parted between breaths. He soaks it in, all of the upset, all of the tears. His heart clings to the hope that they’ll find their way back, they’ll forgive each other, and they’ll love each other unconditionally forever. That’s all Harry wants: forever.

Harry stares at the beautiful, broken-hearted woman in his arms, the one that he’s fallen so madly in love with, and silently prays to whoever is listening that they’ll make their way back to each other soon.

/ / /

Harry marks another day on his calendar in the guest room and his heart sinks at the sight – two weeks taking ‘time’ from Amelie. He took nearly everything from his office and set it on the desk in the makeshift bedroom for himself. He couldn’t bear being next door to the studio and not going in to steal kisses or have lunch with her or teasingly swipe paint on her nose or her arms.

Her conversations with him are barely anything to remember. Quick check-ins and asking about dinner plans in the mornings as she makes her tea and he grabs his coffee. Maybe the occasional question about who would go to the shops and buy their groceries – usually her for the sake of not being noticed – and making a list of whatever they’ve run out of. Harry wants to ask when she thinks they can speak again, having an adult conversation about what to do with their relationship. His heart is heavy, knowing that his best friend barely speaks to him, and doesn’t really want to. He knows that Amelie has been having nightmares, again, and there have been a few nights where they’ve had a quiet conversation as he soothes her. She never brings it up in the morning, though. Harry wants Amelie to talk to him, even if it’s to say that she’s thinking because that would mean that there’s an opportunity to make it better.

More than anything, it’s painfully obvious that Harry and Amelie really do miss each other, even if they won’t admit it.

Jenny gave Harry an earful at her kitchen counter, his head in his hands, despair etched into his features. There wasn’t anyone to turn to that knew Amelie quite like Jenny did, and Harry knew that she would be honest with him, even though it would surely hurt.

Opening her front door, Jenny rolled her eyes and nudged Harry inside, waddling into her kitchen and taking a seat on the dining chair, her ankles swollen, and her lips wrapped around the straw of her water. You know, if I wasn’t pregnant, I would beat your ass for the pictures I saw.

I know, Harry said, tying his hair into a knot and frowning. It’s really not what it looked like, but I don’t blame you for being mad.

Amelie hasn’t told me anything, she sighed, running her fingers over her bump and leaning her cheek in the palm of her hand. Need you to tell me what happened, and we can try to see the best way to get her to open up, again. Obviously, it’s a good sign if she didn’t call me and ask her to help her leave.

Thinking about Amelie leaving makes Harry shudder. Okay. And Harry tells her everything. All of the harsh words that were said to each other, the leaving, the kisses. He leaves out that they had sex – she can piece that together on her own. He talks about how they’ve barely spoken. I miss her so much. I didn’t think I could ever feel this way. It’s the fucking worst. His eyes refuse to meet Jenny’s because of the disappointment that she feels is lingering over his head, the tension in the air.

This happened to Dan and me, she says, and you’re lucky that Amelie is nicer than I am because I kicked him out of the house for a week. One of his exes started coming around and he’s a boy and didn’t see that she was trying to get in the way. Told him that he needed to decide what he wanted.

Obviously, it worked out for you, though, Harry sighs, I don’t think Amelie wants me anymore, even though she’s all I want.

Maybe you should try to prove that to her, then. Living in the same house and avoiding each other clearly doesn’t do the trick.

And Harry takes Jenny’s advice to heart.

Calling the only person that he knows will have the advice to give him about Amelie, the drive to Pasadena takes much longer than the typical thirty minutes. Harry’s thoughts are racing, and his heartbeat is erratic as the freshly painted house and the flowers and the brick walkway comes into sight. Fay’s car is outside, Harry’s pulling up beside it. His phone vibrates in his pocket, Amelie’s contact showing on his screen, a message saying that she’s going to buy more canvasses and spray paint and to not wait on her for dinner. His heart sinks at that, knowing he wouldn’t see her at all that night.

His thumb pressed into the doorbell, his heart sinking when her younger sister answers the door, the twisted expression on her face and the way her head shakes at the sight of him making him want to shrivel into the floor and melt away. Her eyes could pass for daggers, and Harry swears she’s twisting the knife to make the nerves in his stomach worse.

Her and Amelie surely know how to kill with their stares.

“Hey, Pheebs,” Harry breathes, his hands shoved in his pockets nervously, “is your mum home yet?”

“Yeah,” Phoebe says hastily, the hostile tone a vast change in comparison to how they normally interact. “Why are you here?”

“Pheebs–”

“Don’t call me that anymore,” she interrupts, tears welling in her eyes at the thought. Harry was her friend, yes. But Amelie was her sister, her blood, her best friend.

“Phoebe,” Harry begins, his voice trailing as she turns away, Fay swiftly shuffling into view. “Hi, Fay.”

“Hi, Harry,” Fay welcomes, greeting him with a motherly hug and rushing him inside, the January air crisp and chilling his cheeks a bright red. “Calm the cold shoulder, Phoebe. There’s much more to the story than what a magazine decides to tell you. Clearly, Harry’s here for a reason. Don’t make him feel worse.”

Phoebe nods complacently, turning on her heel and stalking up to her bedroom, giving Harry one last look at the top of the staircase before slamming her door shut. Her feelings were conflicted. All Phoebe wanted was to see Amelie happy, and she is happy with Harry, evidently unhappy without, and there was no way to have a happy medium.

“Come inside the kitchen. Get you some tea and warm you up.” Harry follows Fay into the kitchen, standing quietly in the corner and rocking on his heels as she readies a kettle and paces about the island. “Oh, don’t be shy, now. Come sit.”

Harry fiddles his thumbs, smiling shyly at Fay across the counter and staring at the barstool that his girlfriend - he wouldn’t stop calling her that - painted. He never felt uncomfortable coming to their house, rather slightly uneasy with the thought that they could very well be mad at him for all that he’s done. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before saying a word.

He isn’t entirely sure on how he should ask his girlfriend’s mother for advice on how to bring her back to him. Because, at the end of the day, Fay was Amelie’s mother, Fay would support Amelie. They didn’t owe him anything.

“How are you doing?” Fay asks sweetly, leaning over the counter and casting her eyes over the solemn boy sitting at her kitchen counter. Phoebe answered the door with a disgusted look on her face, and she knew that couldn’t have been easy to take. “Are you eating? Sleeping well? Had your mum text me the other day to check-in.”

“I’m alright, I suppose,” Harry answers honestly, not daring to stare into the eyes that are scarily matching to Amelie’s. “It’s weird. We’re living in the same house, eating meals together, bringing each other coffee from our favourite place, but we’re not together – still in the break, or whatever it is. It’s like we avoid the topic altogether. Ames brushes me off every time I try to bring it up.”

“Know this can’t be easy on you, Harry. It’s clear how much you love her. But this can’t be easy on Amelie, either. She loves you. More than she’s ever loved, anyone. And that includes us,” Fay giggles, patting her hands on the counter and moving towards the whistling kettle. “Harry, what happened on the holiday was an honest mistake. It’s hard, learning all the signs of when someone’s mental health is staggering and trying to remember all the triggers, I’ll say that. But, if you’re going to be in a relationship with someone that does suffer from a mental disorder, you have to be willing to try a bit more. Know that you are, and it’s not just you – Luca and I had to learn, too – that’s just a blanket thought.”

Harry nods understandingly, pursing his lips and encouraging her to continue.

“Know that you both said things you don’t mean. Not sure what you said to her on the boat to make her want to come home, and that’s none of my business, nor is it anyone else’s, but you need to understand that someone with anxiety will cling to those words, especially when there are experiences in their past that give them insecurity about relationships.” Fay sets a cup of tea in front of Harry, milk and sugar accompanied shortly after. He doesn’t like tea, but the kindness that he is being shown in this moment is more than he deserves, and he’ll drink whatever is put in front of him. “Amelie needs breaks sometimes. Allows her to clear her mind and remember what’s important. It’s been that way since she was thirteen. But, Harry, you need to know that you are important to her, likely the most important.”

Harry’s eyes sting with tears at the statement. “I want to be enough for her. I want her to forgive me.”

“Forgiveness isn’t about you. Forgiveness is about the person acknowledging that they were hurt and are ready to move on, to accept that the person may or may not love who they are,” Fay says, the way in which her words pour out in wisdom and clarity only emphasising her ability as an author. “Knowing if that person is wanted in their life is the way they know.” Her lips purse together for a moment. “You and Amelie have to forgive each other. Quite easy to tell that you love each other for who you are, but sometimes you have to wait it out.”

“How do I know if Amelie isn’t going to want me anymore? Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Don’t think you’d be living together, spending time together, sleeping together,” Fay says knowingly, “if she didn’t want to forgive you.”

Harry scratches his neck, rolling his head around his shoulders and sucking in a breath. “I’ve been taking pictures of the moon every night since we got home. Maybe I can do something with that. Kind of showing that ‘m thinking about her, all the time, and thinking about us since it’s our thing.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea. And that’ll spark some inspiration for her to paint, too.”

“Thank you,” he nods, pinching his bottom lip together and sighing. Harry stands from the barstool that once belonged to Amelie, grateful as Fay walks around the island and wraps him in a motherly hug.

“You’re going to be okay. Things just take time.”

Harry smiles, sighing and beginning to walk towards the front door. His heeled boots click against the wooden floorboards, her younger sister waiting at the edge of the stairs, her arms folded in front of her chest and her lips tucked inside her mouth. Harry could see the resemblance between Phoebe and Amelie, especially in their faces when they’re angry. He smiles at her, opening the front door and thanking her mother once again for speaking to him. Her father is walking up the drive, smiling sadly and patting his shoulder as they greet each other quietly. Harry is disappointed in himself, in the way that the relationship he made with her family is slowly disappearing before his eyes. He felt welcomed, he felt like Harry. He isn’t sure he would ever find that with anyone else.

His head turns over his shoulder as a hand plants on the hood of his car, prompting him to shut the door and turn to face whoever is preventing him from leaving. Phoebe is standing against the car, a stern glance telling Harry that what she has to say is going to be serious and should not be taken lightly.

“I’m pissed at you.”

“I know, I’m pissed at me, too.”

“Can tell when things are bad, you know? Cherry called me when you told her who was going on the boat with you, and I’m sure I didn’t make the situation any better by giving my opinions, but what else was I supposed to do?” she exasperates, her arms folding in front of her chest angrily as he tucks his hands in his pockets. “Don’t even bring up how shit the photos make you look, Harry.”

“Know they do,” Harry sighs, his hand brushing his hair away from his face and returning it to the open pocket. “Talked to your sister about it, but you know. Everything is kinda a mess, right now.”

“Do you love my sister? Like, actually love her,” Phoebe wonders, the harsh stare in her eyes softening as Harry’s eyes gloss over.

“More than anything. More than anything ever in m’whole life.”

“Don’t let her think you don’t, then.”

Harry nods, swallowing the sob sitting in his throat, getting into his car and turning on the engine. He drives away slowly, taking in the words that were said to him, scratching at his forehead and tugging on his curls, anger boiling his blood as he passes the café and stares. His drive home is longer than necessary, but Harry needed the time to think. He needed space to breathe. He grabs dinner from a café near their house that she loves, sulking when Amelie’s car is yet to be seen in the garage. Her text said that she wouldn’t be back until late, but that didn’t stop Harry from hoping he would see her.

He writes a quick note on the countertop where she leaves her wallet – so she never misplaces it and can’t leave without panicking – telling her that he bought dinner and it’s in the microwave. He sighs, the emptiness of their house intimidating to his emotions. His makeshift bedroom is cramped with anything he might need, trying his hardest to avoid being around her when she wouldn’t speak. His collection of polaroids are in a box on the bedside table, his hands grappling for the photographs and the camera and bringing them upstairs.

His side is unmade, the duvet tossed and the sheets messy, and his heart sinks. He lays the pictures out on the dresser near the bed, a sticky note set on the side, the white camera held in his hands as he made his way onto the balcony to scope out the stars. He lights his phone’s flashlight for a better image, taking the picture of the moon and waiting for it to develop to add to the pile.

He waits a moment to write anything, trying to think through the quotes sorted through his brain and find one that would be something special, that would mean something to her. He’s read nearly thirty books in the year he’s known her, all taking the time on the road when he wasn’t recording or writing or sleeping. He felt smarter, more impressive.

Harry’s memory of Virginia Woolf’s, The Waves, comes to mind, the quote about the stars seeming perfect to accompany the images. His handwriting is neat on the yellow note, scripting the quote and thinking about the signing, almost scared to say that he loves her.

His chest heaves as he leaves the bedroom. closing the curtains and the lights for her, his footsteps light on the stairs as he makes his way to the guest room, the creaking of the garage alerting him that she was home. He doesn’t want to bother her, knowing that her day must’ve been tiring, and he takes himself into the room, making his night routine action and stepping into the bathroom.

Amelie walks into the kitchen, her lips curving into an involuntary smile as she sets her wallet down and takes in the note that was left for her.

Dinner in the microwave, it’s from Café Habana. Hope you had a good day. I’ll be in my room if you need me. Harry x

Harry could be heard singing in the shower, making Amelie smile wider. Her hands pull the sandwich out of the microwave, her mouth watering at the sight. Her stomach growls, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten anything all day. She tends to forget to eat on the worst days, her mind going through a million thoughts and never calming to ease into the daily necessities. Amelie eats the sandwich all too fast for her liking, savouring the taste and filling her water to bring with her upstairs.

Her heart is heavy hearing the shower cut and Harry’s voice quiet, his singing always comforting on the nights she couldn’t sleep. Her nightmares are back, and they’re happening every other day. She wants to ask Harry to sleep with her, to protect her from bad dreams. Her hands gently close the door, never locking it in case he decided to take matters into his own hands and come to their bed.

Her hands peel the uncomfortable clothing off her skin, inhaling the scent of Harry’s sweatshirt she tugged from his side of the wardrobe and slipping it over her torso, naked from the waist down. Her fingertips take off her rings, her lips parting and her eyes glossing over as she sees the seventeen polaroid photographs of the moon on the counter, all dated and lights perfect for her to replicate in a painting.

Her hands clasps over her heart, the genuine thought behind such a simple gesture meaning so much to her, to them. Harry was her moon, and always would be.

“There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'.”

Hope this is some inspiration. Harry x

All Amelie can think about it how much she wants to run down the stairs and kiss him. Harry is her inspiration.

/ / /

Harry’s ear twitches at the knocking on the bedroom door. His guitar is in his lap, strumming a melody that’s been sitting in his head, one about his girlfriend and their time apart and the sadness that’s been coursing through him over the near three weeks that it’s been like this. It’s Amelie knocking, Harry knows this. Her hesitancy gave her away; she always gets nervous to go to him when he seems slightly preoccupied. He doesn’t want to know how many times someone told her that she was bothering them. He would always drop everything to be there for her. Call it a weakness or being smitten, Harry could never find it in him to act any other way.

“Hey,” Amelie says, hands tucked in the pocket on her sweatshirt – the one she got at the concert a few months back – and her eyes staring at her feet anxiously.

“Come closer to me; it’s not like I’ll bite you.” Her mouth twitches into a smirk as they share a knowing smile, her knee settling on the mattress as her foot stays planted on the ground, her body much closer to his than she might have anticipated. “Hi,” Harry smiles, setting his guitar on the platform and turning to face her. “You okay?”

“Need some help with the exhibition pieces, if you don’t mind.” Her hair is a fresh shade of peach, her fringe a bit shorter in the front, her hazel eyes bright in the corners with a highlight he’s never seen before. Her hair is curled at the ends, still long and flowing down her back, and Harry wants to twirl it around his ring covered fingers. “Could you help me load ‘em in my car?”

“Course.” His feet slip into the trainers next to his bed, standing up and ushering his hand towards the door, waiting for her to walk out first.

All of her pieces for the exhibition are against the foyer wall, and Harry wants to sit with her and talk about them all before they have to leave. His eyes take in the bags under her eyes and the slight flush to her cheeks and decide against it. He hands her the tinier canvas, a greyscale sketch of a hand holding onto someone’s shoulder, and there is a slight hiccup in his heartbeat at the sight. His hands clutch onto two much larger pieces – one, a coloured version of the sketch from the second night on the holiday; two, the lookout point in Malibu that they always go to on their picnics.

Harry waits beside the car as Amelie unlocks the doors, opening the boot and the backseat to set everything separately and ensure that they wouldn’t be damaged along the way. “Doin’ alright?”

“I’m alright.”

Harry knows Amelie is lying. “Have you been sleeping?” His questions come out more as a statement, a way to talk about what’s going on. Knowing that she wasn’t talking to Jenny or Phoebe, and she certainly wasn’t speaking to him, who was she speaking to? Amelie needed someone to talk to, to share what was overwhelming her and work through the emotions. Harry wishes she would talk to him. “At all?”

“By the way you’re asking I’m assuming you know the answer,” she sighs, scratching her head as her eyes flutter for a moment, the tiredness overwhelming her today more than usual. All of this would pass eventually. Flowers. Blooming. All that she told herself to try and feel better. “It’s fine, Harry. I’m okay.” Today it feels like shit, though.

Haven’t slept for more than three hours a night for almost three weeks. Sure, you’re okay.

“Can talk to me, you know,” Harry softens, leaning against the doorframe at the guest bedroom and squeezing her hand. He could laugh at how ridiculous this entire scene appeared to anyone without any idea of their situation, appearing as a movie, the scene where they were saying goodbye at the end of a date and she was anxious about kissing him. If only.  “’m your best friend.”

Disregarding all her anxiety and hesitation, Amelie walks towards Harry, snaking her arms around his waist and sinking into his warmth, into the embrace that comforted her on the worst days. “Know that.” Her voice is muffled by his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his chin on the crown of her head. “Thank you.”

Harry squeezes Amelie tightly, his lips in her hair and his fingertips lightly curling around her hair. He can’t help it, it’s his favourite thing to do. “Come on, I’ll get dressed and then I can help bring this to the venue.”

Her face continues to stay tucked into his chest, her arms holding his waist tighter to not let go. Maybe she needed this hug more than she thought. “Don’t want to interrupt you if you’re busy.”

It doesn’t take much effort to read between the lines – at least he’s gained that from this ‘time’. Had this been a few weeks ago, he likely would have ignored the comment altogether and brushed it away as her not needing him. “Never too busy for you.” Kissing her forehead, Amelie reluctantly releases him from her grasp, taking a step back and folding her arms in front of her chest, closing off from him. Harry grabbed her hand, squeezing it and making her loosen, “Come on, I know you’re going to change to go to this venue. I’ll change, and we’ll be on our merry way.”

Amelie hides the smile tugging at her lips behind her hand, rolling her eyes and walking out of the bedroom and making her way into the washroom, her two pressed shirts for the introductions – today – and the event – in two days – pressed and ready to go. Her pantsuit is hanging with the blouse, and there is a swirl of butterflies in her stomach as she thinks about the day she bought it – the way Harry wouldn’t stop making obnoxious jokes outside the fitting room, the way the old woman stared at his crude remark about how fit her ass looked in the trousers, how he dramatically drew the strap of her lacy bra against her shoulders and earned a smack upside the head when it hit her skin. Harry gripped her waist and pulled her into a kiss, telling her to hurry so they could leave. Her heart was a swirl of emotions, filled to the brim with love and she was sure that it could never get better than that.

And it would be an outright lie if Amelie tried to say that that’s not what she wants and needs, right now.

Harry calls her name in the foyer to tell her that he’s ready, his eyebrows quirking upward as she walks out of the washroom and pulls her favourite boots on her feet. He holds his hand out for her to take, guiding her onto her feet and nudging her out the door. He turns on their playlist quietly, noticing her shaking hands and grabbing it, interlocking their fingers and squeezing her hand to soothe her. His directions are counting on the drive only being ten minutes, but with traffic, he’s sure they’re going to be sitting there much longer.  

“Harry?”

His eyes light up at the sound of his name. “Hm.”

Amelie gulps, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip anxiously, the words clawing at her throat. “Do you hate me?”

If you do, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I won’t be able to handle it.

Harry turns to her, astounded by the question. “For what, Ames?”

“Our ‘time’,” she sighs, slightly frustrated that she even has to elaborate. Having to say it felt so foreign on her tongue, so uncomfortable.

“Could never hate you, Amelie,” Harry says soundly, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles and his hand cranking the wheel to turn onto the highway. “Know we’ll be together.” He shrugs his shoulders, taking a moment before continuing. “If I have to wait for it, that’s fine. I’ll wait.”

“Going to therapy, again,” Amelie mumbles, wiping away the blood on her bottom lip with her thumb. “Went back a little before Christmas.”

“Oh my god,” Harry excited, kissing her hand and turning to face her at a stoplight, “that’s incredible.” His smile is so wide that his dimple is nearly making a permanent crease in his cheek. “You never told me you were doing that.”

“Didn’t tell anyone except Mama,” she explains, heaving a deep breath and releasing the tightness in her chest. “Needed to get everything in my head together.” Her voice goes quiet, softer than the sound of the music. “It was getting to be too much.”

Harry pulls into the closest parking space, backing in to give space to haul in the paintings. He shifts the gear, turning to face her before saying anything. “Know that it’s hard for you,” he acknowledges, squeezing her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Couldn’t be prouder of you, though. You’re the strongest person I know.”

Amelie frowns when he releases her hand, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning the engine. Her hand grips his forearm before getting out of the car, her voice shy and timid. “Harry.”

“Yeah?” Harry stares at her so intensely, there is a feeling in her chest making her want to hide. He squeezes her thigh encouragingly, smiling when her tongue licks over her lips and chest moves with a breath to gain strength.

“Would you wait for me?”

He doesn’t entirely understand what she means. “’m going to help you bring these in.”

“No, no,” Amelie sighs, “I mean.” Her voice trails into the silence, all of the anxiety-ridden words caught in her throat, stuck on her tongue. “Would you wait for me? To get better, I mean.”

“Amelie, I’d wait a lifetime for you,” Harry says assuredly, shaking his head at the thought of ever leaving. He could never love anyone that way he loves her. “You’re worth every second of waiting.”

And Amelie can feel it, the butterflies in her tummy and the way her heart is beating so heavily against her chest, the emotions all swirling through her mind. Her eyes prickle with tears and there is an urge to break into a smile and kiss Harry so deeply that they lose their breath.

Harry doesn’t wait for her to say anything, kissing her temple and opening the boot, giving her a minute to calm down. He knows Amelie better than anyone ever has.

“Alright, let’s bring these in,” Harry says as soon as Amelie walks around the car, handing her the smallest canvas and tucking the larger ones under his arms, smiling brightly as the curator claps at her arrival.

“Amelie! How nice to see you,” the young woman chirps, she is trying to assess the situation, a printed smile on her lips. “Is this your assistant?”

“Ha,” Amelie snorts, the brightest smile Harry has seen on her lips set into her features, her cheeks flushed with the comment. “This is my boyfriend, Harry.”

“Think that title makes me an assistant by nature, angel,” Harry says, earning a laugh from the young woman. He smirks as Amelie rolls her eyes dramatically when the woman walks ahead, kissing her hairline and squeezing her tightly, his heart warm in his chest as she grips his hand and interlocks their fingers, following the gallery direction through the venue and showing where her paintings would be displayed in the upcoming days.

Harry is listening to all the instructions and the greetings that the gallery is offering to the artists when his phone vibrates in his pocket, a confused look on his face when it vibrates, again. His lips press to her ear, quietly whispering that he’d be right back, not ignoring the way her skin prickles with goosebumps at the contact.

His mouth curves into a grin at the messages, knowing full well the intent behind them. They would spend hours together, working and likely arguing – because the likelihood of them agreeing on everything was slim to none – and bantering back and forth as they used to. Harry needed that, needed to feel that comfort. He needed to know that there was still something between them, that they hadn’t lost it along the way. Because he loved Amelie, and he needed her to love him, too.

Need help with the nursery while Dan is at the station.

You up to be bossed around by a pregnant lady, tomorrow?

His heart warms as she turns and smiles at him, her hand set over her stomach to tell him that they needed to get lunch before going home. Amelie absolutely hated eating at art events. Always complaining that they only have foods that are too fancy and never filling. He would always agree, and they would find a niche spot near the venue to indulge in before going home. And that’s what they would do, today. He would spend as much time with her as she wanted. Everything was falling into place. Everything was going to be okay.

Harry needed to believe so.

/ / /

Harry carries a bouquet of chrysanthemums to the front door, Amelie following closely behind him and smacking his shoulder playfully as she teases him for having a brown nose. He ruffles her curls, earning a warning look and poke to the chest. All morning they were teasing each other how they used to, how they loved to.

Jenny swung the door open, her eight-month belly very much in the way of nearly everything. Harry was going to be needed more than anything, Dan involved in production week and the crib coming unassembled – although she insisted that they ordered it already assembled – they needed their assistance. Harry kisses her cheek, walking deeper inside their house and setting the flowers on the table, leaving Amelie and Jenny to have their moment – as they always do – and make himself useful in walking to the nursery.

“How are you? You look good,” Jenny says, shutting the door and walking into the kitchen to grab her water. “Things going okay?”

“Think so,” Amelie says, shrugging her shoulders and picking at the stems on the bouquet. “Have the exhibition tomorrow and he’s coming.”

“Have you told him about, you know.”

“Um, not yet,” Amelie whispers. “Think I’m going to when we go to lunch, later. Things are going well, and I don’t want to lie.”

“Don’t stress too much, I know that’s not going to pass through that head of yours, but I really do think that you’ll be okay. Tell me if Harry’s being an asshole, though, and I will show up, eight months pregnant, and have some words. Can’t really beat his ass like this,” she giggles, squeezing her hand and nodding her head towards the nursery. “Let’s get in there before he starts making executive decisions.”

Amelie laughs, shaking her head and walking into the nursery, Harry already piecing together the crib and twisting the screwdriver, slowly bringing the two wooden structures to their intended form. Her eyes lay over the expanse of his back, his hair tied into a knot and away from his neck. Her thoughts are too much to hear what Jenny says to him, Harry having to elbow her thigh to grab her attention.

“Gon’a stare at me the whole time we’re doing this? Kinda need your help. Can stare at me all you want at home.”

Amelie’s cheeks turn bright red with the comment, “Va te faire foutre.” Her knee nudges his back, a yelp leaving her lips as his arm wraps around her thigh and pulls her into him, her hands planted on his shoulders for support.

“Don’t need to swear just because I’m right,” Harry smirks, kissing the inside of her thigh and carrying about setting the crib.

“Could cut the sexual tension in here with a knife,” Jenny snorts, turning around and grabbing the tiny paint cans that they bought to paint the walls. “Do me a favour and don’t do anything in my children’s room.”

“Can’t make any promises with this one,” Harry smirks, grabbing the paintbrush being held near his face. “Try me, doll.”

“Alright,” Jenny giggles, clicking her tongue and shaking her head at their banter. “Harry, let me know when you’re done with the cribs and I’ll come and tell you where to put them. Have to get the twins’ clothes out of the laundry.”

Harry nods understandingly, a smirk toying at his lips as Amelie is pries open the paint containers and begins sketching out the meadow for the wall. His hands work at the same pace as her, their best friend settled in the corner folding laundry and leaning against the wall. He enjoyed the occasional teasing, Amelie taking her thumb and sticking it in the paint to wipe across his cheek when he teases her for the way her tongue pokes between her lips when she’s focused. Jenny grumbles at their flirting, only spurring Harry to want to do so more. He loved the moment, only belonging to them.

“Think the crib should go along this wall, J,” Amelie says, wiping her hands on the smock she brought with her in the car and wiping tugging on her hair to tighten the tie, ignoring the way acrylic paint is suddenly on her skin.

Harry turns to her, reaching out his hands and helping Jenny stand. “Don’t we want the pregnant woman to tell us that?”

“Harry, you’re about to get a foot up your ass, at any minute.”

“Know I wouldn’t mind that from you, love.”

“You two are so annoying.” Jenny hides her smile behind her phone, taking a picture of the wall to send to Dan and imagining where to set the cribs. “Think Amelie is right.”

“Ha,” Amelie smirks, squeaking as Harry’s arms wrap around her waist and set her in the hallway outside the nursery. “Put me down, Harry!”

“Not until you apologise for being mean,” Harry says, trying desperately to hide the smile on his face.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll be finishing the job without you, then.” Harry moves to walk away, his head turned over his shoulder when Amelie grabs his wrist. “Have something to say?”

“Can we still get lunch after we’re done?” Amelie smiles, knowing well enough by now that Harry never means what he says when it has something to do with leaving without her.

“You’re so annoying,” Harry grumbles, taking her hand and tugging her behind him into the nursery to finish their job. “Thanks for asking me on a date, by the way.”

Amelie stands silently at the door, taking a deep breath and wiping her palms against her jeans. Asking Harry to go to lunch never really registered as a date in her mind; their dates were always private and, in their house, their garden, their bedroom. “Never said it was a date.”

Oh, what I would give to go on a date with you, right now, Harry Styles.

There is a tension in the air that they haven’t felt in a while, a spark lingering between them that is longing to be tested.

Harry smirks, shrugging his shoulders and leaning down to close the paint covers. “You didn’t have to.”

~

The Beachwood Café is relatively empty in the area that they’re settled in. Harry has a coffee and a muffin, Amelie nursing a tea and a chocolate croissant. They’re sitting opposite each other, Harry’s eyes set on her as they talk mindlessly about dinner and their families and their ideas for the weekend. Harry mentioned Malibu and a picnic.

Amelie’s conversation with Jenny is lingering in her mind, and there is a dryness in her throat that is begging to be relieved by simply telling him. Harry might be angry – he should be angry with her – and that would be the consequence that she has to suffer through. Harry can tell that she needs to say something, but he doesn’t want to push her, because there is something in his stomach telling him that he doesn’t really want to know.

Her fingertips trace around the rim of the mug, the tea burning her throat and lingering in her chest. That’s the clear feeling of her anxiety, in this moment. “Can I tell you something?”

Here we go.

“Hm.”

It’s probably about Jack. She probably went to him. She’s probably going back to him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This can’t be how we end. Things were going so well. They were going well, right?

“Drove to the café the night we fought,” she whispers, cheeks flushed with shame and guilt and fear. “Didn’t even really know I was doing it. Got there and parked and realised Jack was outside and started panicking and locked my doors and that’s why I almost passed out.” Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you talk to him?” Harry asks, his fingertips ripping the wrapping around the muffin. He knew this was coming, yet there was still an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Please tell me you didn’t talk to him. Don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me for him.

“Couldn’t even get out of the car,” she says, “I had a panic attack.”

“Did you want to?”

Say no. Say no. Say no.

“Don’t think so,” Amelie sighs, scratching at her head and trying to explain her emotions in the most logical way. Anxiety wasn’t necessarily rational. Her actions were surely a portrayal of that. “Got angry with you and just wanted to leave. That’s where I wound up.”

Harry’s voice gets quiet, his eyes stinging with tears at the thought of what he has to say. “Is this what it’ll be like every time we argue? Going back to him?”

Her heart falls to pit of her stomach, nausea and uneasiness sitting in her chest, the oxygen barely reaching her lungs. “No, I swear.” Her swear is the only words that have come out of her mouth steadily. “I didn’t know how to get to the beach lookout in Malibu that we go to and my mind immediately went there.” Her voice gets quiet, again. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“Did Jack see you?”

“Don’t think so,” she breathes, wiping away her tears that are freely falling down her cheeks and leaning her cheek into her hand. “My windows are tinted. No one can see inside.”

Harry’s head lifts from his food. “Is that why you’re having nightmares?”

“How’d you know?” she whispers, pursing her lips together, her thoughts racing with fear as her eyes meet his. His eyes are glossy, a sign that he’s about to cry, too.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“Can hear you,” Harry sniffles, his fingers pushing his hair away from his face. “I’ve come in a few times to calm you down.”

“Understand if you hate me, now.”

“Come here,” Harry sighs, opening his arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek as she settles hesitantly on his thigh, his hands wrapped around her waist. “I don’t hate you, Amelie. I don’t think I ever could.” His tone is a tone Amelie has never heard before, and the silkiness of his voice could surely put her to sleep. “’m just upset that you went there, and it made you sick. Don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened and there wasn’t a way to find you or get to you. Not to mention that Jack could’ve seen you or something.” Harry shudders at the thought. “He’s not going to like it very much if I ever see him, again.”

“Harry, I swear to you I won’t go there, again.”

“Alright,” Harry smiles, kissing her jaw and patting the empty spot next to him, sliding the tea and croissant to her. “Come on, we’re going to exactly who we tease at restaurants and sit in the same booth.”

For a few minutes, Harry and Amelie sit there, basking in the sunlight in their private corner near the window, and eat their food, occasionally stealing a bite from one another. They’re silent, but comfortable, trying to soak in all that was said in their conversation and the heavy promise that was made. Harry believes Amelie, that’s certain, but there is brewing anger in his veins that makes him want to punch Jack straight in the jaw.

“Heard you on the phone with Jeff the other day,” Amelie says, breaking their silence and turning to stare. “Have anything new with a contract or something?”

“Columbia wants to sign me,” Harry nods, a smile tugging at his lips as Amelie instinctively grabs his cheeks and chastely kisses him.

Let me kiss your lips, Ames.

“Oh my god, Harry,” she grins, squeezing his arm and mindlessly kissing his shoulder. “That’s insane.”

“’m supposed to have dinner and talk about it tomorrow night. Can we have a celebratory lunch? Can reschedule if not.”

“No, that’s fine. I think I’m supposed to see Mylie and Talia soon. I’ll text them and see what they’re up to.”

“Okay.”

Once it’s gone quiet, Harry takes the opportunity to drink his coffee, settling in their seats, taking the moment to absorb everything that’s happening. And the way his cheek is tingling from her kiss.

“Um,” Amelie hums, smiling as Harry wipes the crumbs away from her mouth. “I was thinking.”

“You tend to do that a lot.”

Amelie giggles, nudging her shoulder against his and moving the plate to the opposite side of the table, not daring to meet his stare. “Think we should talk about you moving back into our room, soon.”

“Want that?”

“Mhm,” she hums nervously, wiping her hands on the napkin. “Maybe it can be done in the next few days. All the transitioning and that, as soon as the madness is over.”

“I’d like that,” Harry grins, gently taking her chin in his hand and making her eyes meet his. “A whole fucking lot, actually.”

“Me too.”

And, at that moment, there was no one else in the world. Just Harry and Amelie, and the tiny speckle of hope that sat between them.

/ / /

Harry can feel himself drifting asleep every few minutes.

Amelie grabbed takeout on their way home, neither really caring to cook or clean any dishes with the work they put in decorating the nursery with her best friend. Taking their dinner to the living room, Harry nudged her closer as they talked about the exhibition and who would be there, the signing with the label and what that would mean with touring – she never minded him being away, she understood more than anyone he’s ever met – and about his plan to go to England towards the end of February. Harry asked Amelie to go, and with her cheek resting on his shoulder, her hands tucked around his forearm as his hand splays across her thighs, she nodded silently and hummed in agreement.

Harry blinks a few times, his hands gently rubbing Amelie’s knee and kissing her hairline, contemplating how likely it would be for her to wake if he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs. He was well aware that she wasn’t sleeping properly and knowing that being with him comforted her that much made him want to stay cuddled on the couch for as long as they possibly could.

His thumb gently rubs her cheek, frowning when her lips jut into a pout and she curls in tighter against him. “Helping Jenny really tired us out, huh?” Harry whispers, his lips touching her temple sweetly. “Viens, mon ange, on va te mettre au lit.”

“Mais, bébé,” Amelie mumbles into his shoulder, hiding her face in his neck and willing herself to fall back asleep. She felt safest in his arms, slept best beside him, “je ne suis pas fatiguée.”

“Have a long day tomorrow, Ames,” he sighs, squeezing her thigh and brushing her hair away from her face. “Have to be up and out of here at nine.” His hand gently takes the blanket away, tossing it messily to the opposite end of the couch. “Want me to carry you?”

“No, it’s alright,” she yawns, rubbing her hands over her eyes and dozily standing up, grateful to his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her upright. “Are you coming with me in the morning?”

“Mhm,” Harry smiles, walking around her and beginning to turn all the lights and bolt the doors. She waits for him at the stairs, nodding towards the bedroom and waiting to have him walk behind her. He nods, acknowledging her silent request and laying his hand on her back, supporting her as they trudge up their stairs to their once shared bedroom. “Told you I’d never miss an exhibition.”

Amelie waits at their bedroom door, turning around and facing Harry, her tired eyes tracing over the features that she loves. He was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, and there was an incessant nagging in her mind telling her to bring him to sleep with her. “Thought that was only when we were, like,” she trails, her heart going elsewhere as his hand leaves her back and settles at his side.

Come back. Come back.

Harry stares at her, tucking his lips into his mouth and thinking carefully about her reaction to his response. “Amelie, you’re my best friend,” he says earnestly, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he continues, “I wouldn’t miss it. No matter what.”

“Figured you’d say that. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Amelie kisses his cheek, taking him slightly by surprise. “That’s for, well, everything. Especially for the polaroids. Makes me happy you still think of me when you see the moon. I’ll always see us in the stars, you know?”

Harry doesn’t realise that he’s doing it, turning his head and grabbing Amelie’s lips, their mouths moulding onto each other in a blink. Her lips are soft and delicate, the tinge of strawberry that Harry is so used to making his heart warm. Her body is leaning on her toes for height, her hands around his neck not nearly enough to make their heights the same. Amelie wanted to have her nose bumping against his, her teeth pulling at his bottom lip and her tongue tasting his cupid’s bow, the fever of their kiss more than anything they’ve ever felt before.

Harry slowly coasts his hand along Amelie’s figure, squeezing the curves that he adores and making home at the back of her thighs, silently praying that she’s not given up her comfortability with him. Her hands hold his shoulders, a sigh of relief leaving his lips as he hoists her around his waist, holding her back and her bum, squeezing her to him. His lips are plump with colour and hot to the touch, their passion unspoken in the way that their oxygen is dismissed and the only thing they can seemingly do is have their lips on each other, making up for the weeks that have passed without a single touch.

Harry was more than used to going weeks without a touch, without a kiss, but there was something about living with the person that you want to be touching and kissing and not being able to that makes it seem all the more torturous. Making themselves comfortable on the duvet they’ve made love on more times than they could count, their privacy enforced with the closed door and silences phones, their hands skirt along each other’s bodies as if they’ve never explored the territory. Amelie yanks Harry’s shirt above his head, throwing the material somewhere below them. His skin is hot with her hands running over it, a whimper leaving his lips as her fingertips toy with the waistband of his shorts. His hands grab hers hurriedly, interlocking their fingers and holding their arms above her head, his lips slanting over hers and bringing her into a kiss that makes her break away to take a breath.

“Don’t leave me, tonight.” Amelie’s eyes are wide and bright under the moonlight, the stars casting a fluorescent glow over her skin, her freckles are beginning to lighten on her cheeks and her baby pink hair is splayed over their pillows.

Harry swears he’s never seen Amelie look so beautiful.

“Not like ‘m going too far, angel,” Harry breathes, his thumb tucking a hair behind her ear and breathing in the scent that lingers from her, his knees straddling her hips. All at once, he is much too aware of this position that they’ve been in far too many times before. “Going into m’room and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Her thighs wrap around his waist, holding him to her and making sure that he wouldn’t leave. Harry leaving would break her heart. “Harry, that’s not your room. This is.”

“Not right now, it isn’t.”

“Baby,” she whispers, her thumb drawing a line from his jaw to his lips, her mouth peppering light kisses on his cheek, “don’t go.”

“Alright,” he sighs, sinking further into her touch, his hand gently holding her wrist and kissing her palm sweetly. He subtly wishes that he had more self-control, more willpower with her, but he simply didn’t. He loves her too much. “Go on, budge over.”

Harry reluctantly moves from his stance over her, walking around the frame and plugging their phones in to make sure that their alarms are set, and they would be up and out of the house in time to make it to the exhibition early like Amelie preferred. His heart clenched knowing that, at this time tomorrow, he would be in the guest room on the opposite end of the house, sleeping alone. His eyes met hers with a shy smile, his fingers tucking into his shorts and staring at her for permission, a simple nod and a smile telling him that he would be okay to sleep in his briefs. He turns the light off, huffing as he sinks into the warmth of their bed, her arms immediately wrapping around his waist.

Harry enjoyed being the little spoon as much as Amelie loved being the big spoon, their best compromise, and there was a comfort knowing that they would fall asleep that way for the first time in weeks. Amelie felt safe around him, in his arms, her cheek pressed to his back and breathing him in, his hand holding hers as sleep overwhelms her.

Until the clock strikes 04:37, Harry is sleeping soundly with Amelie presumably behind him. He wakes up to whimpers and heavy breathing, hands scratching at the duvet and her legs tense. His eyes widen and take in the sight, his hand running over her cheek as her body shakes and he knows she’s having a nightmare. His heart shatters in her chest, his fists rubbing at his eyes and his fingertips gently trailing over her cheeks, quiet hushes trying to wake her.

“Ames,” Harry whispers, kissing her temple and gently squeezing her shoulders to wake her, “wake up, baby.” His biggest fear is scaring her when she wakes up, startling her and making her shove him out of the room. His thumb flicks on the light, his eyes never leaving her. “Amelie.” His eyes are soft as Amelie blinks rapidly, trying to accommodate to the light and her heavy breathing and the thoughts swirling in her head. Her hands reach out for him, her arms circling around his shoulders and bringing him to her chest, needing his weight on her to ground her. “I’ve got you. It’s just us. You’re okay.”

“Nightmare,” Amelie says, her fingers tucked into fists as she holds onto him tightly. Harry steadies his body weight on his knees, his arm holding her waist and his fingertips combing through her hair soothingly. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry reaches towards the duvet and yanks it over their bodies, readjusting his figure and laying completely flat on Amelie’s chest. He knows that the feeling is safe, the feeling over his body entirely over hers, weighted and secure. Her fingers brush through the curls clinging to his forehead, tiny baby hairs falling out of the bun tied messily on his head. “Feeling better? Need to talk about it?”

“Felt you beside me and then my brain went everywhere,” she whispers, her eyes squeezing shut as his lips touch her jaw comfortingly, her eyes scared to meet his. “Hate having them.”

“Can always ask me to come back earlier than a few days, Ames. Doesn’t have to be that long.”

Amelie meets Harry’s intense stare, his lips pressed together in a straight line. Her heart lurches in her throat, tears welling in her eyes. “Come back.”

Harry nods, smiling shyly, pressing his lips to her cheek. His throat releases a grunt as he lays on his back, pulling her into his arms and squeezing his embrace around her, securing her in his hold and touching his mouth to her hairline, kissing her sweetly. “I’m here. You’ve got me.”

“Haven’t talked in weeks,” she murmurs, her arms holding his hips and slotting her thighs between his. “Miss you.”

“Can talk more, tomorrow, okay? Have a big day, and you need to rest.” His fingers brush through her hair the way she loves, his hand holding hers around his waist securely. “Miss you, too. More than you know.” Harry wants more than anything to talk to Amelie, right now, but that would be unfair to her.

“Didn’t think it would go this far.”

“Think what would go this far, Ames,” Harry repeats, his voice barely above a whisper as Amelie’s breaths pant against his chest, her cheek against his heart, listening to the soothing beat. “’s okay to talk to me, baby.”

“Didn’t think it’d take me more than two weeks to,” Amelie whispers, her words barely registering in Harry’s brain, “to figure out what ‘m ready for.”

Before Harry could even ask what exactly she meant, Amelie’s breathing was steady, her hands lightly splayed over his chest, and her mind had drifted to sleep, leaving Harry to sit with his thoughts until the morning.

~

Amelie and Harry collectively agree to ignore the first three alarms.

Amelie’s fingers are holding his arm over her waist, hand clasped around his wrist, her nose nudged into his neck, his face pressed into her hair. Harry’s body heat paired with the heavier comforter for the winter is causing them to sweat, yet neither really mind. His words are garbled into her hair, his hand tightening around her waist as she reaches for her phone and turns off the alarm, groaning at the time. Harry always sets the alarms three hours early, giving them enough time to love on each other and kiss and quietly talk under the covers before they’re getting on their way, yet today, neither one says a word. It’s like that for nearly an hour, until Amelie can’t take the silence and they decide it’s time to move.

And everything is strangely quiet as Amelie readies herself for the exhibition.

Her body is clad in a navy pantsuit, a white blouse clinging to her chest, her favourite platform boots on her feet. Everything felt very her. Harry took a shower and got ready in minutes, leaving her to have time to soother her anxiety as she always does. He hasn’t spoken to her though. Giving the tea he makes her every morning to her in the bathroom, he simply nodded and kissed her hair, and the silence was making her uneasy.

Harry is sitting at the edge of their bed, his fingertips drumming against his thighs nervously and she curls her hair. “Ames,” Harry says, trying to capture her attention. Amelie turns around, muttering a swear in French as she nearly burns her hand. “I think,” he breathes, “I want to talk about what you said, last night.”

Amelie’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion and Harry knows that she doesn’t remember.

“Guess it was as you were falling asleep again, but you said something about not knowing it’d take you more than two weeks to know what you’re ready for. Are you not ready to be with me? Get back to how we were, I guess is what I’m saying.” All of Harry’s words are said in a rush, and Amelie is barely able to comprehend what he’s saying.

“That’s not–”

“Feel like ‘m running into a wall, here, Ames,” he breathes, his hands splayed over his knees. “Gave you space for three weeks. Only talked to you when you talked to me. Came with you to set the exhibit and all, we talked like normal adults. Called me your boyfriend to everyone. Did the nursery for Jenny together. Gon’a wind up being a Godmother and Godfather, for Christ’s sake, and we don’t even speak about us.” His voice is shaky, and his eyes are welling with tears, and Amelie wants to walk over and kiss him before a tear can fall down his cheek. “Moving back into our room and almost having sex together, last night. Got through a nightmare. Kissing you, like that, I.” One tear falls before Harry can catch it. “Need to know if you want me, Ames. Can’t keep doing this.” Another tear. “Because I want you. I want you so badly,” Harry whispers, his voice choking on his words as a cry wracks through him. “And I’m so sorry what all that I said, for what I did. I wish I could take it back. This is killing me.”

And then he feels it, the feeling that makes his heart race and his lungs tighten and his stomach twist with butterflies.

Amelie’s mouth on Harry’s, kissing him passionately and deeply and heavily, her lips silky and sweet against his, her fingers carding through his curls and holding his face to her, Harry’s hands immediately finding home on her waist. His breath is lost amongst her touches, his lips parted and his tongue tasting the mint that lingers in every hasty kiss. All of his thoughts are encompassed by her – who she is, why she would ever want to be his, her support and her encouragement for him, how much he wants her. Harry’s thoughts circle around how much he wants Amelie forever. Her teeth gently nip at his bottom lip as his mouth pulls away, a whimper etched into his soul as his hand holds her neck and brings her even closer to him, his lips fully immersed in her.

Harry’s jaw is loose under her touch, her thumbs rubbing his skin. His hands gently coax her to straddle his waist, his back lying flat against their mattress, his hair splayed messily beneath him. Her lips are intoxicating, the way they fit so perfectly on his, feel so heavenly, taste so sweet. He never wants to part from her. He wants her tongue to run across his lip and their kisses to be messy and their moans to be a bit too loud and heavy for an early morning. He wants to feel all the love Amelie has for him in her kiss. Harry wants to share all of his love for her in his. He wants to stay in the moment, to never leave, to have his mouth on her and silent professions of their love in the air. He wants to live in this, the moments that are only them, and be where no one could ever come between them again. Harry just wants her.

And they kiss for what feels like an eternity.

“Didn’t know it’d take longer than two weeks for me to know that this isn’t what I want. Don’t want to be apart from you,” Amelie whispers against his cheek, kissing him lightly. “All that we have to face, whatever it is.” A kiss to his jaw. “Think we can talk about this. Have to forgive each other. Know we can do this.”

“Do you mean that? Don’t lie to me, Ames,” Harry whispers, his adam’s apple bobbing in this throat as she kisses his chin. “That would be cruel.”

“Harry,” she says, “tomorrow, when the exhibition is over, and we have time, we’ll talk.”

“I love you.”

Amelie can feel the words stuck in the back of her throat, itching to come out and mend the brokenness etched between her and Harry. Her hands cup his cheeks, gently bringing his face to her and making her lips meet his, kissing him sweetly and squeezing her eyes as his fingertips trace over her cheeks, savouring the moment that is solely theirs. “To Jupiter and Pluto and the moon, around the stars, and all the way back to wherever you are.”

Harry knows Amelie hasn’t said the words but repeating that back to him is more than enough, for now.

/ / /

Harry runs his fingers through his hair, adjusting the shirt clinging to his torso, his boots on his feet and squeaking noisily against the hardwood floor as he walks through the corridors, his heart sinking as he notices a singular dinner prepared on the counter. He doesn’t see Amelie in the kitchen, his lips pulled between his teeth as he steps further into the room. His breath hitches in his throat as Amelie walks into the kitchen unaware of his presence, her chest bare to her favourite – and Harry’s – lace bra and a pair of cuffed denim jeans. One of her favourite blouses, the ones that twist in the middle and fall a bit deeper in the cleavage is in her hands, likely because it had to be ironed from the laundry. Harry smiles shyly, happy that Amelie isn’t rushing to hide her body away, to run away from him.

Maybe, that’s a good sign. Harry needs to believe it is.

“Jeff picking you up for your meeting?” Amelie wonders, her eyes set on the knot that she is trying to tie in the front of her shirt. Harry nods, admiring her as her lips purse together in thought as she stands in front of the mirror, unsure on her decision. “Is this too much? Too, you know,” she says, gesturing towards her breasts and the way her chest is nearly spilling out of the material.

Harry wiggles uncomfortably in his seat; his jeans much too tight against his groin. Had things been different, Harry would be dragging Amelie up the stairs and insisting that their plans for the night be cancelled. His heart sinks at the thought. “Going out, hm? Going to a club or summat?”

“Guess so,” she shrugs, taking a gulp and wiping her hands on her ripped jeans. “Talia and Mylie want me to go out with them. Think their boyfriends are coming, but I’m not sure.”

“Can come with you, if you want me to. Get you out of going out if you’re feeling anxious.” Harry’s suggestion is rushed from his tongue, his palms rubbing against his face in annoyance at how desperate he has become for Amelie’s attention. “’s not a set meeting, you know. ‘s a meal more than anything. Only an overview of what we’re going to talk about in two weeks.”

“Go and have that meeting, it’s okay. That’s important and I’ll be okay. Besides, Harry, it’s about Columbia.” Amelie turns towards Harry, her favourite platformed boots clinging to her feet. Harry smiles knowingly because even with the platforms Amelie is still significantly shorter than him. “Does this look okay? Doesn’t look like I’m trying to put myself in a position where people will talk to me?”

“Hate to break it to you, angel,” he smirks, his fingertip dragging along the rim of a water glass sitting on the marble countertop, “but men are going to talk to you either way because you’re beautiful.”

Her tongue clicks as she rolls her eyes, shaking her head and walking further into the kitchen to grab her water and take a sip from her straw, leaning over the counter and holding her arms together, Harry’s eyes fell from her loose curls to her chest nearly falling out of her top.

Harry could almost see himself leaving kissed purple bruises along the valley between her breasts, stopping right at the moon and working his way back to Amelie’s neck, suckling more of her skin and proclaiming how much he loves her.

“Earth to Harry.”

Harry’s eyes meet hers and his heart drops, taking in the concern etched in her features. His heart was screaming for him to ask her to come, to be his date and say that he would cut the meeting short, that they could celebrate her exhibition pieces together as they always do and they could finally talk, yet the words were lodged in his throat. “Hm.”

“Is it okay, you know, if I call you?” Amelie sounds nervous, her fingertips toying with her metal straw and a heavy breath making her chest shake. “Not unless absolutely necessary, but you know, in case of anything.”

Harry is well aware of what she means. Anything always has something to do with the person they hate most in the world, and his ability to seemingly show at the worst times. Amelie knows that she can always call, but there is something sweet in the validation that makes her feel warm inside. “Always, angel.”

Amelie nervously approaches Harry, her eyes trained on his movements as he swivels in the barstool and opens his thighs to accommodate her, her fingertips running over the collar of his patterned shirt and adjusting it. “Don’t let anything Jeff says, scare you away from thinking you don’t deserve to be at Sony, okay? No one deserves this deal more than you.”

“I adore you, Ames,” Harry says, the words spilling from his lips without thinking, his heart pounding outrageously fast in his chest as he nervously awaits her reaction.

Harry swears that he’s dreaming when Amelie grabs his cheeks, kissing him deeply, his hands making a home at her waist and her fingertips holding his collar. His hands slowly inch lower, coasting under her bum, seeing how open she is with him – fully prepared to rip his hands away if she even makes a sound of discontent – and when she moans into him, his heart swells against his chest and he is putty in her hands. Amelie leans further into his touch, nearly sitting on his thighs with how close her body is to his, her fingers moving from his shirt to his hair and tugging as he loves. Harry squeezes her hips, moaning into her mouth and smirking as she whispers, “I adore you, too.” Her confession is besotted with his kiss and his touch, her mind nearly unaware of the words tumbling from her lips without remorse.

His throat utters a groan as his phone vibrates behind her, his eyes squeezing shut as her lips pull away, her thumb brushing over his flesh to wipe the chapstick. He hasn’t kissed her like that – a proper kiss, as he would say – in so long, he almost asks her to leave the tint as a reminder. He grabs his phone, answering Jeffrey’s call and holding the speaker out for them to hear.

“On my way, H,” he says brokenly through the speaker. “Don’t be moping around when I get there.”

“Hi, Jeff,” Amelie smiles, folding her arms in front of her chest and turning around in Harry’s grasp, his arm around her waist and her head leaning on his shoulder. “He’ll be out. Don’t worry.” Amelie ends the call before Jeff could respond with another joking dig at his demeanour of the last two weeks and Harry grins. “Don’t smirk at me like that. ‘m just doing ‘im a favour, you’ve been walking around with a frown for weeks.”

Harry blushes, his dimple aching his cheeks and his hands slowly making a home on Amelie’s waist, turning her around in his arms and tightening his thighs around her to hold her in place. His chest tightens at the thought of her leaving him, especially when they’ve made such progress in the last few days. “Bisous, s’il vous plait.”

Amelie kisses his cheek sweetly, rubbing the chapstick into his skin. His arm is tight around her waist, holding her to him and being reluctant to have her leave. Amelie knew that Harry would be clingy the days after they have a talk about where to go with their relationship, especially when she told him that she needs him – not that she really minds the clinginess. Harry needs to go with Jeff, tonight, though. “Don’t be an asshole and ditch that important meeting when Jeff is already on his way.”

“Can come when I’m finished,” Harry offers, his fingertips inching beneath the silk material of her top and rubbing the skin chaffed by the wiring on her ribs. “Can get smashed on tequila and dance and take you home with me.”

“Considering that we live together, it’d make sense that you take me home,” she giggles, carding her fingers through his hair and brushing the curls away from his face. His eyes are bright under the fading sunlight, and there is a swell against her chest as he leans into her touch.

“’m serious,” he says, squeezing her hips and pecking a kiss to her bare shoulder. Harry reluctantly releases Amelie from his grasp, the breath knocking out of his lungs as she tucks into his chest and wraps her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly, his arms slinging over her shoulders and embracing her, his nose nudged into her hair as he kisses her head. “Text me when you want me to come. I’ll be right there.”

“Alright,” Amelie breathes, sucking in a deep breath, overwhelmed by his scent and his embrace and the kiss that is lingering on her head. “Harry?”

“Hm,” Harry hums, grumbling as she squeezes his hips to have his attention, to have his eyes meet hers.

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t have this, okay?” she whispers, her thumb and forefinger holding his chin, his face hovering over hers, their mouths too close to touching, the swell of his lips too enticing for her eyes not to flicker to.

“I won’t,” Harry affirms, muttering a profanity under his breath and pushing his mouth to hers. His lips are gentle, kissing her sweetly and thinking about saying the words that are lingering in the air. “I adore you.”

Until they aren’t lingering anymore.

Harry said it, and Amelie is staring at him as though it was said for the very first time without any cause, and Harry is fully thinking she isn’t going to say it back.

“I adore you, too.”

Until she does.

His hands grab her cheeks and give her the happiest kiss that he’s felt in more than a long time, his smile breaking apart their lips as he presses his pink flesh to hers over and over again until she’s giggling and pushing at his chest. His hand grabs her wrist and playfully drags her to the door with him, his hand holding the back of her head and kissing a hard peck to her cheek and her lips before walking outside. He turns over his shoulder to wave, his fingers making the peace sign as they always do and a smirk on his lips as she makes one back, shaking her head and turning on her heel and making her way deeper into their home as he gets into his friend’s car for the evening.

“Look who decided to leave the house,” Jeff teases, smacking his hand on the centre console and taking a swift look at his bright appearance, “and with a smile on your face.”

“Fuck off,” Harry says, hiding his smirk in the palm of his hand. His eyes travel to his phone in between his thighs, the vibrations of a text message coming through on his skin. His smile is bright, his dimple indenting his cheek and his fingertip sliding across the screen to stare at the message from ‘Mon Ange’.

Make a killer fucking deal, baby. x

Harry’s heart warms, the overwhelming emotions sitting in his throat. His thumbs type a reply faster than he likely should have, locking his phone before Jeffrey could peer over and take a look.

Always for you. x

Only the quiet hum of the radio is playing, Harry’s attention focused outside the window and disappearing away from his friend and his phone. “You okay? Look better than you did the last time I saw you,” Jeff says lightly, doing his best to gauge Harry’s mood.

“Going through some shit,” Harry confesses, shrugging as he cards his fingers through his hair. “’m good, now, though; that’s what counts. Today was a good day.”

“Are you really?” Jeff stares at Harry as the car pulls into a space and into park, the door unlocking and their hands reaching for the handles to get outside and into the restaurant. “How’s everything with Ames? You two alright?”

“Think so,” Harry says confidently, nodding as his lips purse together in a tight line. “Think we will be.”

“Don’t know what happened between you,” Jeff whispers, stepping away and to the podium at the front of the restaurant and checking into the reservation to be hidden away, his eyes meeting Harry’s as they begin walking towards the back, “but whatever it is, you’ll be okay.”

“Hope you’re right about that,” Harry hums, quietly thanking the hostess and taking a seat opposite Jeff. “Okay,” he breathes, setting his hands on the table and leaning forward with a smile on his face, his mind replaying the words his love said before he left. “Let’s talk Columbia.”

Columbia is sharing an interest in a five-year contract – albums, tours, music videos. Harry would have reign over the sounds and the artistry, working with his favourite producers and writers and all that encompasses creating an album he loves. His mind is overwhelmed with the idea, with the offer, because more than anything, Harry wants to make music. Music is his life, his love. His relationship has inspired so many lyrics and melodies already, and he wants nothing more than to share the love he has for her in the best way he knows how. Harry says that he’s going to take a day or two to think about, although he already has his answer.

Afterwards, Harry and Amelie share a few messages back and forth talking about the night and her dinner with Mylie and Talia and their boyfriends and where they’re headed for the evening – Amelie doesn’t know the bar – and that they’ll call when they’re nearly there for him to meet.

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

That’s how long Harry waits at home without a text message. That’s how long Harry waits for Amelie to text him and tell him to come to meet with her and her friends for the night. He was dressed and ready to go, waiting at the kitchen counter, paying too much attention to the vibrations coming from his phone and the light that would appear with every notification. He wants to text her and ask, to make a friendly reminder of his offer.

That’s too pushy, Harry. Let her warm up to you, again. Calm down.

His eyes meet the bright clock on their microwave and Harry scolds himself for thinking that Amelie would text him on only the third day they’ve started talking and really easing into each other, again. He sighs, standing from his barstool and sticking his phone in his pocket, turning the lights in the kitchen and hallway off and making his way through the foyer to get to their bedroom.

Maybe things weren’t going as well as Harry thought they were.

~

Harry sucked in a breath, his hand tucked into his briefs and making his heartbeat race. He was tired of this routine. He missed the closeness of being with her, the feeling of her skin on his, the slow kisses and the thick burn that coursed through his veins. He desperately tries to not think of her, to not think of the way she used to clutch his shoulders and squeeze her legs tighter around his hips, bringing him as physically close as she possibly could.

His mind is running rampant, overwhelming and drawing his attention away from the slickness of his hand and the slow tugging that is encouraging him to a release. His lungs can’t catch his breath, a heaviness on his chest that is making him anxious, that is making him near tears.

He laid there, spent, in a panic. His chest was tight, and something felt wrong. He only felt this way once before, the time when Amelie missed her flight, and the thought of why he is feeling so sick makes him want to vomit. He rubs his face in his palms, his fingertips digging into his eyes as he stares at the alarm clock sitting next to the bed. Harry knew that they were going out, likely making her come home late and slightly tipsy, Amelie told him earlier in the evening before Jeff picked him up for dinner. He didn’t want to call and irritate her, mistaking her agreement to call if she was in trouble with an agreement to call and have him be her date for the evening. He was finally getting somewhere, and he didn’t want her to be upset with him. He heaves a breath, leaning against his headboard and flicking on his light.

He shouldn’t be worried. He shouldn’t. Amelie promised him. Amelie promised she would come back to him. They promised each other they wouldn’t do anything. Amelie wouldn’t break a promise. Not a promise to him, at least. Right?

He takes a book from his nightstand. He picked it up a week ago at a bookstore that she would have loved. He bought the French version. He thought that reading a translated text might help him learn more, especially considering Amelie wasn’t making herself around to teach him. His eyes scan the page, unable to settle the feeling in his stomach.

He reaches for his phone, his eyes widening as her picture brightens his screen and the vibrations echo on his palm. He answers faster than he can bring the phone to ear, his heart falling to the pit of his stomach when he hears her crying.

“Harry?” Amelie hiccups, her throat tight and tears falling down her cheeks. His voice is rasped and worried as if the air was knocked out of his lungs the moment she called.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” Harry never stopped using the name. He couldn’t – it was her. His stomach twists with the sound of her wheezed breaths. “Baby, talk to me.”

“’m havin’ an anxiety attack and ��m scared,” she mutters, her breathing shaky as she walks outside and beneath a light, her phone tight against her cheek. “Need to come home, Harry. I need you.”

#loving you's the antidote series #harry #harry styles #1d harry #1d harry styles #harry 1d #harry styles 1d #harry x #harry x you #harry x reader #harry x y/n #1d fan fic #1d fanfiction #1d fan fiction #1d fic #1d ff #harry fic #harry fanfic #harry fanfiction #harry smut #harry angst #harry au #fic #romance #angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles ff

[thebeautyoffandoms]

hello ! i was hoping to get a matchup for mystic messenger and (optional) haikyuu.

my pronouns are she/her but i am fine with whatever pronouns. i am a straight asexual. some good things about myself is that i’m usually quiet, i think i’m pretty open-minded, and i think i have a good sense of humor. often times i can be very mean and egotistical, i’m lazy and very unmotivated, and i dont think i care about important things as much as i should. i am an istp. i think i’d probably be a slytherin. i really like candy, and listening to music. on the contrary i dislike anything green apple flavored or grape flavored, and i rreally dislike kids. i dont really have any opinions on thinggs i do/dont look for in a partner, just as long as they give me some attention. i enjoy watching movies/animes/shows and playing video games. i dont have an exact genre, but i like listening to alt(?) and pop.

Hello!! Thank you so much for requesting, and I really hope you like it! (And i’m so sorry that it took so long!!!)

For Mystic Messenger, I feel like Jumin Han is a good match for you!!

(I’m sorry I really like that gif aornfonarf-)

First of all, Jumin appreciates your being more on the quiet side. The man’s not a loud person himself, and prefers to be around people similar to him, so that fact about you doesn’t take long to take a jab at his interest. While he’s stubborn, and takes a bit to warm up to others, he isn’t displeased when he finds himself growing fond of you. In fact, after having it pointed out by some of the RFA, Jumin realizes that it’s quite the opposite. He’s glad? The Jumin Han, glad to make a friend…? Despite the teasing from the others in the RFA, it’s true. It’s good that you’re open-minded, because Jumin can be rather unfaltering in what he believes. He wouldn’t pester you to think the same thing as him, but it’s entirely possible that he brings up his thoughts as if they’re fact more often than not. Now, Jumin never minded if you were mean. He himself can be blunt and rude at times, and his emotions aren’t sensitive. He’s coolheaded, and typically can shrug any mean comments or actions off. While he may not get along with many egotistical people (our fine example being Zen) he will find a way to get used to you. While he may not be the world’s greatest hypeman, he will try to boost your ego in, typically, subtle ways. He enjoys complimenting you, buying you things, and trying to make you feel like the loveliest girl in the world, and won’t mind if you don’t argue with it. He lucked out with someone who has a good sense of humor, because he makes jokes somewhat often, but they’re never, you know… funny-. Laugh at his jokes, or at least react positively, and he will feel a bit proud of himself. Well, he’d feel proud of his joke no matter what, but making you smile is one of the greatest achievements in his book. Jumin isn’t a lazy person, but I don’t think he’ll particularly care if you are. Want to stay home all day? Don’t want to work? Yeah, ok, you’re covered. Food will be prepared for you no matter what, Driver Kim can take you wherever, and he’s got people who can do all the shopping, cleaning, and such. Unless you feel motivated to do those things, he’s got you entirely covered. While Jumin will have things covered for you, he’s not going to let you get past with every little thing. Not to say he wouldn’t like to, he just wants to make sure you stay healthy and happy. He reminds you of the important things you may forget, and will make sure that you get them done, even if it means he should help you. In fact, he’s more than willing to help you. I’m pretty sure Jumin says that he works out as he should, and so he’ll convince you to tag along with him. Not only does it make him feel a bit more motivated, but it lets him have the reassurance that you’re being taken care of as well. I’m not sure if it’s ever said, but I personally headcanon Jumin as someone who doesn’t have an opinion on kids. He isn’t particularly fond of them, wouldn’t mind having one should his s/o want one, but is completely fine without them should his s/o not want one. Jumin is perfectly content having cats instead of kids, and can only hope you feel the same, because… I don’t think this man could survive without his Elizabeth the Third. Also, though he is busy, and works a lot, he still makes sure to spend time with you. He tries not to stay at work too late so that the two of you can eat dinner together, and, on the weekends, expect to be taken to fancy restaurants. He also really enjoys taking you shopping. This man just loves spoiling you <3

 For Haikyuu, I feel like Tsukishima Kei is a good match for you!

To be honest, after getting to know you, you can be like a breath of fresh air for Tsukki. He’s surrounded by loud, energetic people for a lot of the day, so he enjoys your company. The two of you probably ended up being friends, eventually more, because of a group project or something, and he just… never removed your number from his contacts list. If you like volleyball, he probably used seeing you at a game as an excuse to keep contacting you. As implied by Tsukki getting annoyed by the loud, energetic people, he really likes that you’re quieter. While he’s not too noisy himself, if the both of you are feeling quiet, he’ll turn on a playlist the two of you share and the both of you can do your own things. Times like those are more relaxing than Tsukki would ever admit, but he secretly hopes that you think the same. Should it be you, him, and Yamaguchi, it’s probably more likely that there’s conversation going on, but Tsukishima still enjoys having your playlist going in the background. Mean and egotistical are both words commonly used to describe Tsukishima himself. Though he’s arrogant on the outside, he’s still self-conscious. However, he doesn’t always mind your big ego. Sure, he’ll tease you for it, but you won’t catch him actually trying to lower your ego. Plus, he likes when you’re mean. I see Tsukishima as the type to enjoy playful banter, and he also enjoys being able to trash others with you. If you use an especially creative and/or pointed insult to someone who deserves it, his smirk will definitely grow and he’ll probably glance at you proudly. The biggest thing Tsukishima would have to get used to in the relationship is laziness. While I can see him getting used to it, as he isn’t as energetic or motivated as a lot of his teammates, it takes him a bit longer to. He also grows to learn to remind you of important things. Expect him to tease, and occasionally nag, about that. He won’t take it too far though, and finds himself setting reminders on both of your phones to ensure that you don’t forget things that are too important. Should you need his help with something like that, he’ll pretend to be annoyed, but will help you nonetheless. Tsukishima is kind of relieved when he finds out that you don’t like kids. While he doesn’t want to rush the relationship and would avoid talks of kids or marriage so that he didn’t make you feel uncomfortable, or make the two of you feel like you should rush things, he’s never been fond of children. He has to deal with the childishness of his teammates enough to know that he couldn’t handle an actual child. Also, while he tries to do so discreetly and without actually saying it’s a date, he really enjoys spending time with you. Even if it’s just listening to music and sitting around, or going to the theatres (or heck, even just the others’ house) to watch a movie, he’s pretty content having you in his life. Though, of course, it’ll take him forever to actually admit that <3

#matchup #matchups #anon #haikyuu matchup #mystic messenger matchup #jumin Han #tsukishima kei

[badatusernames]

CHOJI, SHIKAMARU, LEE, GAARA & HINATA!! ITS A LOT IM SORRY

THANK U FOR THIS...admittedly some answers may be a lil short just so i can like. Get to them all.

EDIT: IDK WHY IT LOOKS LIKE THIS. IM SO TIRED. IM SORRY ITS JUST A LONGASS NARUTO POST ON YOUR DASH I TRIED MY FUCKIN BEST YALL

SEND ME A CHARACTER AND I’LL DO THIS;

Chouji (man i’ve seen it spelled both ways and i’m just used to typing Chouji at this point sorry)

Sexuality Headcanon: Pansexual!!  Gender Headcanon: Cis male A ship I have with said character: SHIKAMARU. SHIKAMARU. SHIKAMARU. SHIKAMARUUUU, my god...just, everything about their dynamic makes my heart melt, the way they’re both people who are easily dismissed by others and how they have such UNFALTERING FAITH in each other. chouji knows how much of a genius shikamaru is, knows very well the fact that despite his laziness, once he commits to something he’s in it for the LONG HAUL, the way shikamaru just believes so steadfastly in chouji, considering him stronger than NEJI FOR FUCKS SAKE...they like. get one another, the kind of relationship where you can be yakking away one minute and then just sitting in contented silence the next. they can just laze around. maybe play video games and snack. and sometimes...kiss. and it’s so chill even with that latent tenderness their later relationship develops and they both just feel so safe and KNOWN and familiar like. love your best friend. anyway everyone slept on shikacho and y’all should be ashamed the naruto fandom is enormous and finding pretty much ANY content for it is almost impossible aside from the small (if lovely and amazing) tag and i’m pretty hyperfixated on it if you couldn’t tell holy SHIT.  A BROTP I have with said character: i’m really not a fan of ino taking potshots at him for his weight and outright shaming him, but once she grows out of that i absolutely love their friendship. listen, you know that post thats like--hold on

thats just them, thanks. A NOTP I have with said character: i have nothing against karui but canon is fucking dead to me and my opinions on p much all the “endgame” ships range from utterly neutral to absolute loathing. their relationship is on neither end of the spectrum, but. eh. definitely not into it. A random headcanon: he keeps nursing injured animals back to health because he’s just that fucking sweet and bringing them back to his house to keep them warm and safe while they recover and his team knows vaguely about this and ino and shikamaru like to poke fun at him for it but since they don’t tend to encounter said animals, it’s not really a huge deal.

of course they stop by his house one day bc he hadn’t shown up for training which is annoying and frankly a little concerning and finding the house mostly empty ino just bursts on into chouji’s room only to immediately have the opossum he’s been caring for latch its little paws on her face and cling.

it’s a bad morning. General Opinion over said character: literally one of my absolute favorites of all time and it really breaks my heart how overlooked he is in the fandom (seriously y’all...). i think kishimoto is kind of a stupid hack and the Fat Jokes are really grating and it sucks to see that so intrinsically tied to his character (like. just let him be fat. jesus christ) but his kindness and overall relaxed, loyal and lovable nature has me just melting. i adore him. 

Shikamaru

Sexuality Headcanon: He’s gay, scoob. (I could also talk a lot about how his earlier misogyny is both a product of being a whiny tween and also some internalized frustration of like WHATS SO GREAT ABOUT GIRLS. UGH. I DONT. STOP TELLING ME IM GONNA FALL IN LOVE WITH ONE ONE DAY DAD JESUS. and let’s be real, thats frustrating, even if it aint an excuse)  Gender Headcanon: he uses he/him pronouns because it’s just what he’s used to and comfortable with but man gender is such a drag... A ship I have with said character: SEE ABOVE SHIKACHO RANT A BROTP I have with said character: naruto! he and naruto have a really adorable friendship and i love love LOVE that he and chouji were shown to be kind and accepting of him even when most people were shunning him. also he’s so fucking dumb i love seeing shikamaru meticulously plan out something only to have naruto shriek into battle and ruin all of it. love those guys. stupid bros.  A NOTP I have with said character: ok. im sorry i just. loathe sh*katema i really do. i haaaate the way kishimoto writes this whole “ew a GIRL” “ew a MAN” vibe with the like OOOH BUT THEYRE GONNA LIKE EACH OTHER vibe like. 

don’t get me wrong i adore them as friends, i think they’re fantastic scathing and witty pals who bitch about anything and everything including each other

but they’re also both gay and kishimoto can suck my nuts byeeee A random headcanon: sometimes pakkun just fucking Shows up and chills with him. shikamaru wants absolutely no part of this but is way too lazy to like. do anything about it so it’s just this guy and a dog sitting in a field chillin and occasionally him piping up like ‘hey kid. remember when i bit your hand? yeah? haha, man time sure does fly.” while shikamaru is just. go aWAY.   General Opinion over said character: if you told 9 year old me watching naruto for the first time my favs were gonna be a three way tie of lee, shikamaru and chouji i never would have fucking believed you but here we are. i love him. i absolutely love him. he’s such a whiny bastard and a really good depiction of burnout genius who doesnt want to do ANYTHING, but his intellect is an absolute DELIGHT to watch. i love him very much. 

Lee

Sexuality Headcanon: he’s pan!! this is a boy that crushes easily and crushes hard on just about anyone!!!! Gender Headcanon: cis male A ship I have with said character: ok i ship him a lot with neji actually? what with how neji grows during the course of the series to regard lee with the respect he deserves is really sweet and there’s just something so infinitely adorable about him going around being the hammiest, most ridiculously earnest, kind and enthusiastic person and neji, now that he isn’t constantly bitter and angry at the world can finally really see that? lee is always happily dropkicking his way into his life, like he wouldn’t have it any other way, and i think that’s just...so sweet A BROTP I have with said character: SAKURAAAAA. oh my GOD do i adore their relationship. ever since lee saved her and basically just gave her a glimpse of his...lee-ness, the fact her negative opinion of him IMMEDIATELY flipped and gave her such a strong admiration and fondness for him kills me DEAD. she always treats him with so much respect and the fact she’s quick to rag on anyone making fun of him melts my HEART!! and on lee’s side, his little crush on her is adorable of course, but the sheer strength of the friendship that comes from it is more than infatuation could ever offer him. i want them to hang out together and talk about their troubles...i want them to make each other laugh and be so very kind to each other...i want sakura to storm over and throw him over her shoulder to TAKE A BREAK ALREADY when he’s been training too hard for too long. god. A NOTP I have with said character: honestly i’m pretty happy with a lot of lee ships! the only ones i view with obvious disdain are the ones with creepy age gaps honestly. A random headcanon: out of everyone in the leaf genin, he’s probably the closest anyone’s ever come to someone who EVERYONE is at least distantly friendly towards. like god have you SEEN how warm and inviting and concerned he is the SECOND he sees that naruto is feeling down? i get the sense he’s immediately inclined to provide that kind of support to any of his comrades, even the ones that Resist it.

you think sasuke is the most popular among the leaf genin? puh-LEASE. everyone looks on rock lee with at least a LITTLE bit of warmth. thats just fact. General Opinion over said character: since my first viewing of naruto he has been my Absolute fav, and while chouji and shikamaru are veeery close to stealing that spot, one look at him and i feel he’s gonna be on top forever. probably the best written character kishimoto’s ever produced that’s remained in  the main cast (tho i dont speak for shipudden onwards who fucking knows, but the truth of it is is i adore rock lee)

Gaara

Sexuality Headcanon: Panromantic Asexual Gender Headcanon: kind of like shikamaru, i feel like he uses he/him pronouns but also doesn’t particularly....Care? A ship I have with said character: ok so it wasnt until my naruto rewatch that i really started falling into this but i think him and naruto are super cute? while i loathe kishimoto for ruining so much abt this show he really is good at creating good foils to naruto, and gaara is no exception--and the way naruto changes his life by just kicking his ass (and proving he’s not just a Simp or smth) and then just, extending genuine empathy and a REAL sense of truly relating to where he’s coming from re:his upbringing? the EFFECT it has on him, bro!!!! my god!!! i feel like they’re that opposites attract ship that don’t clash constantly but instead fall into this adorable synergy and understanding? and i think thats so sweet A BROTP I have with said character: ...is it cheating to just put temari and kankuro here? bc they are literally his siblings but my GOD do i love their relationship. there’s something so deeply sad about their initial situation??? like having siblings that either are deeply fucking afraid of you or clearly don’t care for your well being whatsoever, it’s such a tragic scenario, and the times where they really do show legitimate care for gaara just breaks my heart...but the GROWTH. THE DEVELOPMENT. THE HEALING. i love the sand siblings so much, i am a STRONG advocate of seeing the development from estranged family to loving, occasionally bickering siblings who absolutely Love Each Other A NOTP I have with said character: uhhhh same with lee in that i don’t really mind most of the ships i’ve seen him in? while i don’t particularly ship gaalee i think its also Very Cute, and really it all just seems pretty valid as long as people aren’t being creepy? A random headcanon: i’ve been wracking my brain for one for a good 20 minutes and i just don’t have one he’s such a mystery to me/????? i love him but he is an enigma?? General Opinion over said character: oh my god he’s such an edgelord in the beginning. i’ve been doing a lot of this naruto rewatch with my friend @drashseed (a simply phenomenal fella 10/10 follow him) and every single time he talked the only valid response just became “ok gaara”

but his backstory? utterly HEARTWRENCHING. and his growth is just. absolutely divine, i adore him. thank you mister sandman for doing so much for us all.

Hinata

Sexuality Headcanon: Bisexual Gender Headcanon: cis woman A ship I have with said character: listen. i think kibahina is........Really Really cute. he cares about her so MUCH??? and there’s a certain tenderness to his interactions with her that’s just really evident whenever you see em together? i really love that you get the sense hinata is COMFORTABLE around him!!! like! i feel like hinata really deserves to have a partner who sees her when she ISN’T blushing and stammering? when she’s like? legitimately comfortable and being HERSELF? (dgmw the blushing is adorable i fucking love her but its one of the gripes i have with naruhina that so much of it is just naruto being oblivious and her having a small panic attack) the comfort she and kiba have make for a chill, adorable relationship i just cry over constantly A BROTP I have with said character: so i was GONNA put naruto here, but technically i already put him there for shikamaru’s so i’m gonna say neji!!! uhhh OBVIOUSLY they got off to a. very rough start but the way their dynamic changed (or perhaps in a way reverted back to the times they interacted before neji’s father died and temporarily killed his Human Decency) into this respect and fondness that’s just...such a delight to watch? i’m a SUCKER for slow and mutual reconciliation and there are just so many sweet moments between them. they are FAMILY, BRO!!! THEY CARE FOR EACH OTHER, BRO!!!!!!!!!! A NOTP I have with said character: ...at the risk of sounding like a broken record, i think a lot of hinata ships are quite cute? i guess i’m gonna have to say sasuke. because like.

has. he ever even looked at her. please. jesus christ. she deserves so much better. A random headcanon: she is a LOT physically stronger than she looks!! a lot of her combat techniques rely on taijustu after all so it’d make sense that she puts a lot of effort into physical training alongside chakra control.

i’m trying to say she’s strong. not as strong as sakura but. she can lift her bf up over her head (he’s dying hes dying he’s dYING he lOVES HER SO MUCH). it’s pretty fuckign badass

General Opinion over said character: i LOVE her??? honest to god i really really do--honestly while i dislike the direction they went in canon with her, i really loved seeing her be motivated to grow and change the parts of herself she hated to become a stronger person.

that and she’s so fucking cute and sweet and i just??????? bless her honestly.

#naruto #shikacho #narugaa #nejilee #kibahina #they speak #i cant tag everyone fuck #is this formatting fucked up? i can't tell it wouldnt post before #long post

[mrssarablack]

1. What’s your sexual orientation?

Heterosexual. 

2. What are you obsessed with right now?

Hmm, I really don't know. I have my usual things that would qualify but my "obsessions" but they don't often consume me to a high degree, so I have a hard time dubbing anything I like a full blown obsession. 

That being said, it's probably tiktok. The obsession of the moment, I find myself on the app entirely too much because it's just a fun party and oh the things that lead to little research dives are fascinating. Mostly it's the musicians that get me. I love creativity and am forever amazed by the collaborations and straight magic people make in the time allotted... but it takes up way too much of my time when it really shouldn't. I have better things I could be doing. 

3. Ever done any drugs?

Yup. 

4. What piercings do you want?

None. My ears are pierced to the degree I like and I don't really desire anything else to be pierced. 

5. How many people have you kissed?

Enough. 

6. Describe your dream home.

The house I live in outdoes anything I could possibly come up with. I'm very happy with my home, but I'd be happy most anywhere. If I'm honest, I'm a bit Aladdin-like when it comes to living arrangements. My dream home list, if I only considered myself, is the very low bar of a roof over my head  that has a beautiful view. Bonus it has a pool but it's not a requirement. 

Clearly, where I live outdoes that by a longshot and I'm very lucky to have the things I have. I'm not unaware of that fact. 

7. Who are you jealous of?

There is no way for this not to sound like a humble brag in my head, but no one. I've never been the jealous type. There's so much unnecessary energy in wanting what someone else has and jealousy is a negative you just don't need in your life. It's much better to focus on your own joy and not worry about what others are doing. 

8. What’s your favorite show to binge?

Schitt's Creek

9. Do you watch porn?

I have. 

10. Do you have a secret sideblog?

No, I don't.

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?

I don't know, I'm good, but somewhere warm and with a beach, I guess?

12. What’s one of your fantasies?

I really only have one and that's of my mother apologizing for what she did. 

13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced?

Nope. 

14. How would you spend a million dollars?

I probably wouldn't. 

15. Are you in a relationship?

Yes

16. Do you follow porn blogs?

No, but I'm pretty sure some have followed me...🙄

17. Are you angry with anyone right now?

My mother. It ebbs and flows between anger and indifference. Depends on the thoughts I'm having surrounding the why of it. 

18. What tattoos do you want?

I don't want any. 

19. If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to?

Maybe? But probably not. I don't particularly like my name. It's kind of dull, if I'm honest, but at the same time it's my name and I don't have a replacement in my head for it. So, I'm Sara and I'll forever be Sara. It's alright. 

20. What is something you’re obsessed with?

I already answered this, but I suppose my general obsession is pokemon. I like the games and the lore. The whole thing is fun and I enjoy it a lot. 

21. Describe your best friend.

She's like sunshine. She's bubbly and sweet. Anna has optimism for days. She can be a little naive but people also see naivety in what is actually her stubbornness. She won't give up on people even if she should. She sees good in almost everything but she isn't unaware that bad exists.

And because of this her kindness shines. She'd help a stranger without hesitation or a need for anything back. She very much is a person who would stick her neck out to save a life. She brings out the best in people and makes it look effortless. She is kind and caring but has a determination that can tackle damn near anything that becomes an obstacle. Anna's a force to reckon with and not many people realize this truth.

22. Tag someone you think is hot.

@nikolascblack

Did you really think I'd pick someone else? 

23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists?

This list alternates with moods. I love so many bands and artists. But right now the top five are:

Nikolas Black

AJR

The Beatles

Ok One Rock

P!nk

24. What are three places you want to travel?

I really am that person if given the chance to just pick a plane and go I'd probably take it. I just want to experience all the places so here are the first regions that came to mind...

Italy (like all of it) 

Spain/ Barcelona 

South of France 

25. Describe your perfect Friday night.

It's getting warmer so, right now, it's an evening with Nikolas on our back patio. Fire up the grill and enjoy a meal outdoors. Maybe spend some time in the pool. End the evening with a warm blanket and a cuddle. 

26. What’s your favorite season?

Summer. My skin may take issue with the sun but I like it best when it's warm and sunny and being outside. 

27. What’s your pet peeve?

When I am listening to music… I probably don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone. I do not like when I'm interrupted when my music is on. 

Also, if I'm doing art or sewing … be aware I might get snippy if you choose to interrupt my flow. I like reaching stopping points before I'm asked to change gears. 

28. Who is the funniest person you know?

Probably Jakub. He's the king of one liners and his sass gets me. 

29. What’s the most overrated movie?

I'd say Avatar, was not impressed by space Pocahontas….

30. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message.

... um... I'm not really the shy type. If I wanna get to know someone.... I'm going to be friendly to them and start a conversation.

31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better?

Paper books but I do register I read more electronic ones. The library system is nice in that format… when I actually finish a book. I don't read that fast so I have like 3 waitlisted at any given time three or four times over just so I can finish it … 😅 

32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick?

Pokemon? 

33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like?

I dislike questions that make me feel like I'm bragging. Or that could be seen as such but my wardrobe wouldn't really change because my boyfriend allows me to use his funds from time to time to have the nicer clothing items I like. Which sit right alongside my jeans I got from TJ Maxx. Legitimately, it probably wouldn't change at all.

34. What’s your coffee order?

Cold brew or if it's cold I typically, latte it's usually a hazelnut

35. Do you have a crush on anyone?

No. 

36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes?

I don't. Most of them were pretty shit people. So, yeah… nope, I don't think much on them at all really. 

37. Have any tattoos?

No

38. Do you drink?

Occasionally

39. Are you a virgin?

Heh… no.

40. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals?

Nope

41. How many followers do you have?

Um… I have no idea. Not many that's for sure.

42. Describe the hottest person you know.

I did this once. I'm not going to objectify him again. So instead:

43. What’s your guilty pleasure?

True crime documentaries or horror movies. I do not watch them often. Nikolas isn't into it and I'm not going to be the ass that takes the tv and makes him watch something he doesn't like. So, I save it for when I am alone. 

44. Do you read erotica?

I have but I don't seek it out. Typically the erotica I have read has been tucked away in a romance novel and was far more than I expected it to go from the synopsis or anything before that point.

45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?

I have to go with the one where it was clear he asked me out as some sort of revenge date. His ex-girlfriend was at the location with friends and he kept looking over at her trying to see her reaction. It was bad and I dismissed myself as quickly as I could.

46. How many people do you follow?

Again, I don't know. I know it's mostly friends and artists or designers but I'm too lazy to look up the number because I don't care. 

47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick?

This guy right here:

48. Describe your ideal partner.

There's a theme here...

49. Who do you text the most?

Anna? Our friend text line is usually an all day back and forth.

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?

Sunny and warm. Weather that screams "beach day"

#sara reynolds #random questions #bored #been a while since ive done this #oc #roleplay