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whenyourlipstouchedmine · 1 year

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Somewhere after the movie

There were many things Lydia got from her little trip back to Beacon Hills, but the most important of them all was a lesson.

A lesson in holding on to the things and the people we love because it might be too late if we don’t.

It was hard to be back, especially after the past year. To go back on those streets, the same places and with the same people she grew up with… well, almost.

The most important person wasn’t there.

She knew that she was to blame for that, that maybe he didn’t want to go knowing that she’ll be there. She also knew how hard he worked, so maybe he just got caught up with a case and couldn’t find the time to drive down.

Either way, Stiles wasn’t there. And it felt wrong.

It felt wrong to be detectives without him, to tie a red string on a board and not have him fussing over it, tying it around his fingers anxiously as he tried to figure it out.

But that was her fault, too. It was she who left, her who put a stop to what they had because she was scared. Scared of a nightmare that felt too real not to pay it any mind. And, after her record, she didn’t want to risk it. Not when it came to Stiles. She lost him so many times already.

“Are you okay, Lyd?” Jackson asks. It’s been nice to have him around. The whole bringing-Allison-back thing was hard enough, she needed a support system if her usual one was gone.

She’s glad at least that worked out, and maybe it was seeing Scott and her best friend get back together as if no time had passed, or maybe it was the fact that she had to catch Allison up with everything she missed the past fifteen years, and the memory lane wasn’t a fun ride to go down.

“You don’t look surprised,” Lydia asked her best friend after she finished the re-cap of her story.

“About Stiles? How could I?” Allison laughed. “Lyds, you kept denying it but I could see it from a mile away. Besides, I do remember that kiss. Even with everything that was going on, you two… you were meant to be.”

The words still play in her head now as Jackson waves his hand in front of her.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Lydia asks, turning to face him. He just rolls his eyes in annoyance. He really became a totally different person after he left Beacon Hills, but Lydia thinks he likes it better like this, funnily enough.

“You need to talk to him,” Jackson blurts out.

“Talk to who?” She frowns.

“Oh, come on, you’re the smartest woman in the world, I’m pretty sure you can figure that one out.”

“I—I can’t, Jackson. I can’t go back. I don’t even know if he still—“

“This is Stiles we’re talking about. The guy’s been in love since… what, eighth grade?”

“Third, actually—“

“Even better! Trust me, he’s not… he’s still in love with you. It would be stupid of him not to.”

“I just don’t think it’s fair. After all, it was me who left without a warning,” she sighs.

“Fine, then wait until the next supernatural crisis hits and we can all come back here and make it awkward like Malia and Scott! What the fuck happened between those two, anyway?”

“Beats me…” Lydia says.

“I’m just saying, I think you should call him. Or show up at his doorstep and tell him what happened. He’d do that for you.”

And Jackson is right about that, Stiles would do that for her. He’d do anything for her. Once, after they moved to San Francisco, her bosses were being dicks and not giving her enough credit and he actually conducted an investigation that got them in trouble for neglecting their workers.

“I’ll see what I do, but thanks for coming and… for everything else,” she hugs him. It’s time for him to catch his plane back to London.

“Of course, but remember—“

“No word of this to Ethan. Got it,” she chuckles. “Have a safe flight!”

“Call him!” Is the last thing he says before he closes the door and heads inside the airport. Lydia sighs and holds the steering wheel harder, thinking.

When she closes her eyes, he sees the dream again, so clearly, so vividly, Stiles on the floor, glass shattered all around him, and the car on fire. He’s not breathing, and all Lydia can do is scream, but nobody hears her.

She shakes her head and starts driving back to San Francisco. It’s gonna be a long ride, but she hopes that she’s made a decision by the end of it.

(…)

There are few things Lydia missed about using her powers again, but the random blackouts weren’t one of them.

That’s the only possible reason she can think of as to why she’s parked her car in front of Stiles’ apartment. Or maybe it was just muscle memory.

Or both.

Call him.

“Fuck it.” She says and she gets out of the car, trying to make herself look presentable as if Stiles hadn’t seen her at her worst. As if he hadn’t loved her even when she was locked up in an asylum, with her head drilled open.

As she heads to the door, her heart starts to beat way too quickly for comfort.

Maybe this is a horrible idea. Perhaps she should’ve called. What if he’s not home? What if he’s got someone over? She probably should’ve texted first to make sure he didn’t hate her.

“Lydia?”

She doesn’t even get to ring the doorbell.

But, of course, he must’ve felt the red string of fate pulling as she got closer.

“Hi,” her voice barely comes out, which is funny for a Banshee. “I—“

“Oh, my God,” he drops the bags he was carrying and walks to her to hug her so tightly she can barely breathe. “You’re okay, thank God.”

She doesn’t know what to say, how to act. It takes her a few seconds to hug him back, too startled. But this is the place she belongs in: his arms.

“Scott texted and… I didn’t know you’d be going back, too. Beacon Hills was—“

“It was Allison, of course, I went back,” Lydia says. “It was… weird being there without you, you know? We all missed you, I missed you.”

“Did you?” He asks, and Lydia knows that he has every right to be defensive, but she doesn’t want him to be.

“Of course, I did. I—“ she sighs. “Listen, can we talk? Upstairs, maybe? Or if you don’t want to, I can come back another day or we can meet up somewhere else that doesn’t feel so personal, or you can tell me to get the fuck out and—“

“I would never do that,” he says, and it hurts that Lydia knows. Even when she’s hurt him so many times, he still wouldn’t. “Let me—I was on my way to take out the trash, so let me do that and then you can come up, sure.”

“Cool, yeah, sure, do you need any help with that?” She asks, pointing at the bags, but he shakes his head, smiling slightly.

“Wouldn’t want you to stain those boots. They’re your favorite, aren’t they? Or maybe you got a new favorite pair now.”

“I don’t,” she says, maybe a bit too quickly. The fact that he remembers makes something warm burn inside her. The same fire that’s been burning for over fifteen years and didn’t die even when they were apart.

She watches him go down the stairs to the bins down the street and come back with his checkered pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt that Lydia knows he loves to sleep in.

It feels like nothing has changed except it has. Many things have changed. Dead people aren’t dead anymore and people who weren’t dead before, are.

“Alright, let’s go?” He asks once he gets back to her, and she just shyly nods before she follows him inside.

She knows the way to his apartment by heart, and could probably get there with her eyes closed if she wanted to, but she enjoys the sight of him. His hair is a bit longer, much like it was when they were in high school.

She feels like she just jumped on a time machine and they’re back to the days when discovering dead bodies around their town was the norm. Well, he still kind of does, but he always said it wasn’t as fun without the rest of the pack.

“Welcome. I’m sorry about the mess, I wasn’t really… expecting anyone,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck as he moves to the side to allow Lydia to walk in.

The fact that it still looks exactly the same as the last time she was here gives her a bit of whiplash. Only the pictures of them two are gone, but Lydia doesn’t blame him for that.

At least the ones of the whole pack are still there.

“It’s okay, I’m used to your mess,” she smiles a bit, hoping it wasn’t too much for her to say.

“Yeah, after hanging out in my teenage bedroom, I’d say you’re good,” he chuckles as well and closes the door behind her.

It’s a bit awkward as they sit on the couch in silence, and Lydia is starting to second-guess coming here in the first place.

“What did you want to talk about?” He eventually asks, and Lydia is surprised that she founds herself at a loss for words. That’s never happened before.

“I… These few days have been very intense. Going back there, seeing all the people from our past… Allison coming back and losing Derek was very hard. It showed me the importance of not holding anything back because it might be too late.” She looks down at her hands as she starts fidgeting with her fingers nervously. She always does that.

“Hey, Lyd? It’s alright,” he reaches over and holds her hand the same way he always did. The same way he used to unwrap the colored strings they used for their detective maps, the same way he did when he put a ring on her finger. A ring she left behind when she left.

“Is it, though? Don’t you hate me even a little bit?” She asks, now turning to look at him. “Because, trust me, I do. I hate myself. I hate myself for leaving you like that, but I didn’t have a choice,” she says. “I— I’m sorry that I left like that, so suddenly and without explaining. I couldn’t—“

“Do you want to explain it now?” He asks, as gentle as usual, just as patient.

“I had a nightmare one night… we were driving somewhere and suddenly, it all turned black, there was a crack on the window, and you… you were on the floor, surrounded by glass and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t reach you, but you weren’t breathing.” She gulps. “And I know that I’ve had nightmares before, we both have, but—It kept happening, every night I dreamed the same thing until the point where I didn’t know if it was a dream or if it was a premonition.”

“Well, I’m not dead, am I?” He asks.

“You’re not, because I left. I was there in the dream, so I thought that… if I left, then—“

“You have to be kidding me,” he says, standing up. “Lydia Martin, you—“

“I couldn’t lose you, okay? Not like that! I—I couldn’t face you dying, Stiles. I’m sorry, I know it was selfish, but I just—I couldn’t be the reason why you died.”

“So losing me anyway was the best idea you had? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I was scared! I was terrified of triggering it, so I just—“ she sighs. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I had no business stirring up the past like that, you—you never deserved it.” She stands up and starts to head for the door.

“Hey, hey, hold on, I never said that,” he reaches out to stop her, grabbing her arm. “I’m just saying… Lydia, I’ve been in love with you since the third grade. Even when you barely acknowledged my existence, I loved you. Did you really think that I stopped?”

“You should have,” Lydia says with a bitter laugh.

“Yeah, well, I also should have stayed home that night that Scott got bitten, I should have studied more for my exams instead of going around the woods every night, and I should have made sure to keep my Jeep in top-tier condition so it wouldn’t keep breaking, I should have done many things, but we all know I never was too good at doing what I should, was I?” He says, a smile on his face. “So, tell me, Lydia, why did you actually come here? Just to tell me that? So that I could… find closure and move on?”

“I came because I missed you. Because being back in Beacon Hills without you felt wrong and made me realize how much I wished that I’d stayed. How much I regretted letting that nightmare drive me away from the only thing that I’ve ever had. You—You’re the love of my life, Stiles. And every second I’ve spent without you has been torture.”

“I’d say we’ve both been tortured enough in the past, haven’t we?” And with a swift pull, Lydia finds herself colliding against his chest. “Let’s stop that,” he says before he presses their lips together.

And even though she’s been back in Beacon Hills, this is her true Homecoming. She wraps her arms around Stiles’ neck and deepens the kiss, making up for all the time they lost.

“I love you so much,” she whispers against his lips, feeling her own tears rolling down her face.

“And I love you,” Stiles says back with a smile. “Next time you have a nightmare, tell me about it instead of taking off in the middle of the night, yeah?”

“I’ll try. If I don’t, come find me.”

“Alright, deal.” And he kisses her again, and again, and again, for all the times he couldn’t, for all the nights he wished she was still in her arms, for all the minutes of the day he’s spent thinking about her since he left.

And, when they find their way back to bed, Stiles gets a box out of his bedside table and hands it to her.

“You kept it?” Lydia’s eyes open wide when she sees the ring.

“Always kept hoping you’d come back,” he admits, sliding the ring on her finger and kissing it after. “I’m glad I was right.”

“I am, too.”

And the world might still be a freaky place with werewolves, banshees, kitsunes, nogitsunes, dark druids, and people coming back from the dead, but in their little bubble, it’s just them.

It’s always been just them.

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drawthething · 1 year

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Zeke hugs the hell outta Jimmy Jr to comfort him about not having a twin and Jimmy Jr is so fricking ready to go to detention with Zeke even when he's not given one

You've gotta be obsessed with them more or this absolute perfection is all for nothing

#'where's my twin Ron? where's my twin?'#'i'm right here J-ju'#'give me detention too mr. frond'#i'm just-#😭😭😭#sometimes i feel like i love these two more than i love any of my otps #came across one funny scene between them and my braincell just had to go back to all their other funny bits 😐#bobs burgers

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youngpettyqueen · 6 months

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Trick AND treat! 😁 You can do two separate ones or combine them. And let Hawkeye take care of and fuss over Charles.

I tried so hard to come up with something for trick but my brain is not braining today. to make up for it, I added 250 words to a very fluffy, very silly idea because this hit me IMMEDIATELY upon getting this ask and it took everything in me to not write this while I was at work. maybe at some point I can come back with an idea for trick?? but I didnt want this to sit in my inbox forgotten so I hope you can forgive me only doing treat, at least for now

The first snow of the year comes, perhaps luckily, when they have children visiting.

Charles woke that morning to the delighted shrieks and giggles of children, unmistakable in pitch and volume. The sound was so sweet he couldn’t be irritated at being woken up early, not that he’d ever admit that. He made sure to grouse thoroughly about the hour to his tentmates, knowing they’d rib him to lighten up before moving on, but would never let him live a moment of softness down.

He’s taking a moment, now, to watch. It’s after breakfast, he has a shift to get to, but he knows that post-OP is quiet and can afford for him to be a couple minutes late. The children are running around, bundled in their mismatched winter jackets and too-big boots, donated surplus hats rolled up extra to stay out of their eyes. Some of them are sporting distinctly fashionable scarves, while others form snowballs in distinctly homemade mittens. They make angels in the snow, they make snowballs and throw them at each other, a few of the older ones are demonstrating how to make snowmen.

They play. They laugh. They smile with missing teeth and genuine joy in their eyes. For a moment, just a moment, they’re children the way children should be. Charles is happy to sacrifice a quiet morning if it means-

A snowball hits the back of his head with a freezing, wet splat.

Charles goes entirely rigid, snow sliding down the back of his coat and melting in his hair. A roar of laughter goes up from behind him, and he immediately knows just who that laugh belongs to. He whips around to fix Hawkeye with a glare, only to falter as his eyes skip right over where Hawkeye is doubled over wheezing and land on the young boy falling backwards into the snow, laughing and pointing.

And, well. Who can blame him, if his irritation is snuffed out faster than a candle? Who could possibly be angry at the sight of a child laughing so hard he can’t stay on his feet?

Hawkeye straightens up, hands over his stomach, still laughing that goose honk laugh of his. And maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep down Charles can’t stay annoyed when he sees Hawkeye laughing right from his belly. Because that’s a rare sight these days, and maybe it makes the snow soaking into his shirt a bit less cold.

Of course, he can’t admit to that. Ever. So, he finishes his turn, schools his expression to raise a judgmental brow. “Ah, Pierce,” He greets, “I see you’ve found yourself a playmate. If only they’d take you with them when they leave. You’d blend right in.” He barbs, all huff and no bite.

Hawkeye snickers, wiping at his eyes, “Sorry, Charles, but I couldn’t resist,” He offers as a weak apology as he hunkers down to help the boy back up to his feet, “Somebody’s gotta teach the kids the sacred way of the snowball fight, and somebody’s gotta be the target! Thank you for your service.” He grins, straightening himself back up.

The boy points at him again. “Gotcha good!” He declares, with a big smile that barely has front teeth.

Charles nods good-naturedly. “That you did, my fine young fellow,” He tells the boy. Looking back at Hawkeye, he suggests, “Perhaps your teachings might benefit from a second demonstration? Say, some return fire?” He stoops down to scoop up some snow in both hands, clapping it all together and starting to form a compact ball.

Hawkeye laughs incredulously at the sight. “Oh, he has some fight in him!” He crows, “What, did you have snowball fighting lessons? A private tutor in snowball form?” He jeers.

Charles keeps his face carefully neutral as he forms the snowball in his hands. “Your confidence will be your doom,” He warns, straightening himself up, “Any last words?”

Hawkeye settle into a smug grin, raising a challenging brow at him. “Bring it.” He dares.

Charles allows himself a smile. He supposes it is fair for Hawkeye to assume he’s never so much as made a snowball, never mind participated in a snowball fight. It would be an activity most would likely assume he views as beneath him.

They would be forgetting, however, that Charles is an older brother. And wealth and status mattered not, in matters where Honoria Winchester and her insatiable need to peg him in the head with a snowball were concerned.

Hawkeye doesn’t see the snowball coming until it hits him square between the eyes and takes him off his feet.

#mash #fic bitching #shorts #charles winchester #hawkeye pierce #otp: and their sons #this came to me so easily and I was gonna do a connected one for trick #but ive been trying to do that for. 2 hours. and nothing is clicking #so I hope its ok that I added some more onto this one instead!#it was a lot of fun to write #love me some silly Charles #but maybe at some point ill come back and add a little epilogue of sorts with that trick prompt #who knows with my muse. certainly not me #thanks for the request!#I hope even if not everything you asked for its still good #sorry about my fickle muse im usually all over the hurt/comfort but its just not clicking rn :/

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phoenixshine · 2 years

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“Trinity...” “Neo...”

Neo and Trinity’s first words in the real world after 60 years... (The Matrix Resurrections - dir. Lana Wachowski, 2021)

#The Matrix #The Matrix Resurrections #Neo x Trinity #Keanu Reeves #Carrie-Anne Moss #parallels PARALLELS PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARALLEEEEEEEEELS #imagine me being alright after THIS discovery #imagine me being alright after THIS parallel #Neo woke up looking for her wanting her to be standing above him like she did the first time #and Trinity woke up turning to find him look at her in worship #AND THEY BOTH HOARSELY WHISPERED EACH OTHER'S NAMES IN DISBELIEF #even if they chose to mute her hoarse whisper WE KNOW IT'S THERE #M4 script drop WHEN?#how many more easter eggs were dropped during Christmas 2021 best present ever?#AND HOW MANY MORE DID WE MISS BECAUSE THEY WERE CHICKENS AND DIDN'T ALLOW THIS FILM TO RUN FOR 3 HOURS?#I can't believe that each other's names was all they could think when they came back FROM DEATH #THE EPITOME OF EPIC LOVE #Neo and Trinity invented romance love and basically everything that's beautiful in this world #otp: I'm never letting go #my gifset #thank you mah Discord peeps

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dylanconrique · 7 months

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i'm still betting on tim telling lucy he loves her at nolan's wedding reception.

#*my headcanons #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #chenford #otp: you know me so well #since they missed the perfect opportunity for him to confess when isabel came back 5x20 🙄#AND IT HAS TO BE TIM WHO SAYS IT FIRST IDGAF WHAT ANY OF YA'LL SAY #one of my favorite otp tropes is when someone unexpectedly confesses #and the shock of it all is enough to make the other person physically trip over their own two feet #like....#they're dancing and making small talk and tim cracks a joke that makes her giggle that sweet tune he adores so much #so much that it compels him to say those three little words right then and there #..... his hand gripping the small of her back tighter to keep her steady when she trips over her heels #her looking up at him with such love and adoration but also disbelief like 'you... you love me?' 🥺

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sarahlancashire · 2 years

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LEANNE BLACK and ROSALYN MULLENS in SHORTLAND STREET

our kiss, leanne, it wasn't enough. i need more. i need you.

#shortland street #shortlandstreetedit #rosalyn mullens #theresa healey #leanne black #jennifer ludlam #alisonscotlock #otp: until my dying day #gals being pals #**#hi i came out photoshop retirement bc i needed to do this #headed straight back into retirement bc doing things is awful + i hate it #(also i'm terrible at it)#happy pride 😇🌈💖#anyway their relationship is everything 2 me goodbye #the amount that leanne is in love with ros ....... same

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oveliagirlhaditright · 8 months

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What’re your favorite kh ships?

If I'm being honest... I really only true ship SoKai these days (my forever OTP). Mainly because I feel like that's the only one I can really ever see actually being canon (well, aside from Yozora and Nameless Star, and I also ship them: a lot of that for Versus XIII reasons. My heart won't let go). And, I mean, not that a ship needs to be canon for me to ship them. Not at all. But I'll admit that I've grown out of some of the KH ships a wee bit, as I've found more adult ones in other fandoms to get invested one.

That being said, the KH ships that I do still care about are:

SoKai

RokuShi

Namiku

RokuNami

Terqua (though it seem these days the kids call it Terrqua. Or Terraqua?)

Gulava

Skulmera

Playerlitzia

YozoraNameless Star

Xehaqus

AkuSai

SoRiKai

RiKai

Roxiri (though not in canon. More in fanon. More for crack, kind of, actually. And friendship first and foremost)

I'm warming up to Replinami some these days, because of the tragedy of it all.

I've also started to warm up to Rion a wee bit... that past Shanna thought she'd never see.

SoNami in CoM only.

I could do XionRoxasNaminé. NamiXI, too.

VenAqua slightly, but I'd always choose Terra and Aqua over it (but one thing about the Wayfinder Trio for me, if I'm being truthful, is that I prefer the three of them as friends before any romance with any of them. Part of me even really thinks all three of them are truly just meant to be friends.)

A lot of people ship Ven and Strelitzia for some reason. And I doubt it'll ever happen, tbh. Who knows if they'll ever even really get a chance to meet and be friends. But I do get why they think it'd be cute.

And while I don't know if I truly ship them anymore, a part of me will always have a soft spot for Ventus and Naminé. Because for some reason, I really used to ship this crack pairing, back in the day.

I also don't really know if I ship them... but despite what I said above, I do get the feeling that Nomura might be doing something with Lauriam/Marluxia and Elrena/Larxene.

#i used to LOVE vanaqua and vannami. and some of my heart probably always will for that reason (mainly the former). but for the most part i #think i'm over it #i also used to ship ephemer and ava a tiny bit. but i'd pick gulava any day #i also used to get into olette pairings. but tbh. i just can't really be bothered anymore #i also used to somewhat ship ira and invi because of that comment in back cover about them having to see each other less now so the others #wouldn't get the wrong idea (because taken out of context it sounds like they're dating). or aced and invi because they reminded me (and #everyone) of terra and aqua. but i was never really serious about those to begin with and have let them go. -shrugs-#really. at the end of the day. it's sokai. forever and always: sokai #asked and answered #and really the main ones for me are sokai rokushi namiku rokunami and terqua #but mostly sokai -i say. sounding like a broken record-#and while we're mentioning everything (because somehow that's what this post turned into) i used to be big on larxel (like khii days)#but not for many--MANY--years #wait. i do like gulava a lot too. and rikai. because riku and kairi--in whatever form they're in--don't get enough love #there's also a tiny bit of me that ot3s eraqusxehanortvor. xehaqus is the otp and they're perfect together: i know and agree with this #and yet they have an interesting dynamic with vor. i feel like before dark road started they were the SLIGHTEST bit of a trio. not truly #because xehanort and eraqus still spent way more time together but it was there a little bit #and it's interesting to me that eraqus. of all people. gets annoyed at vor snooping on them some at the beginning of dark road #before the game came out if you told me something like that would have happened i would have guessed it was xehanort. but nah. it's eraqus #and xehanort moreso telling him to chill and letting vor tag along (and the eraqus thing wasn't really serious. and more in good fun #because he DOES care about her). and then they're both DEVASTATED when she dies. and vor really cared about them #also a slight ot3 with xehanorteraqusurd because despite what i just said about vor it's URD they spend the most time with in dark road and #i like their dynamic with her too. -shrugs-#vanikai a smidge back in the day

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unabashedqueenfury · 11 months

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Reign 2013-2017/01-13

Maria e Francesco

Lucia Martinez.

Ombra di seta rossa.

Le tue cosce come la sera

vanno dalla luce all'ombra.

Le recondite ambre

oscurano le tue magnolie.

Eccomi qui, Lucia Martinez.

Vengo a consumare la tua bocca

e a trascinarti per i capelli

in aurore di conchiglie.

Perché voglio e perché posso.

Ombra di seta rossa.

(Federico Garcia Lorca, "Lucia Martinez", Poesie)

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ei-mugi · 1 year

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i enjoyed getting heated over something silly for fun but im just now seeing some past distress ppl had over the poll on the blog & i feel a little bad haha i dont actually have any problem with ii or its fans like ive said i was one myself in the past

#being familiar with both ships though i still do prefer wataei #my 'complaints' were in the context of knowing about both of them and the shock of these 2 interests ever intersecting #i dooooooooo have a lot of opinions on ii as a show but none of them are like. 'you shouldnt like object shows cuz theyre dumb'#i got enough of that said 2 me by other people at the time #fan still sucks tho. worst character. microphone best character she deserved the win #when they go back to finishing season 2 in a decade's time they BETTER make the pickle/taco reunion happen in the next episode #the poll prompted me to watch like an episode of season 3 just to see what was up w it #and it was like fine. i watched episode 9. but i cant say it still holds my interest like it used to #especially not since s3 is an au and none of the plotlines are continued there #lol i remember when s2e12 p2 came out there was so much controversy #cuz paintbrush was eliminated that episode but it was also when they came out as nonbinary #i hope they make transgirl lightbulb canon still. that would be cool #paintbulb may not be my otp but they are t4t #all in all the thing about the osc (object show community) is that honestly its just a really sweet place over all #like its really lovely for so many kids to have a community where theyre encouraged to be creative and stuff #duh a lot of the shows arent gonna be good theyre being made by kids. but thats whats great about it #i like laughing over some stuff but i always feel the need to like say stuff like this cuz i think it sucks that people make fun of #stuff kids like to do so much esp as an autistic kid who was always made fun of for everything i liked #cringe culture definitely seeped into my bones a bit but i try to combat it

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katiekatebishop · 2 years

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use this love (Taylor’s version) in the trailer for the richonne show don’t be cowards

#the LYRICS #these hands had to let it go free but this love came back to me?????#tv: the walking dead #twd #rick grimes #michonne grimes #richonne #otp: we’re the ones who live

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larry-is-my-anchor1 · 2 years

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#this love came back to me #sterek #fan fiction #my otp forever

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canongf-archive · 2 years

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People don’t get to decide who or what they grieve for. Grief is not a voluntary response or choice that we make. We can grieve for all kinds of things that have nothing to do with traditional death—sometimes it’s the death of an idea, or the death of an opportunity. There’s nothing wrong or inherently unhealthy about grief, and as a irl death worker, I really resent people telling you that grieving something that matters to you, in any capacity, is unhealthy, or that you are viewing a character’s death too seriously.

Grief only becomes unhealthy when it interferes with your day to day life for a long period of time. And even then, it’s not the grief, but the inability to process that grief. Grief is not a dirty word or a dirty emotion, and it isn’t always about death the way that we think of it as the ending of a life. Sometimes it’s the symbolic “death” of something totally different that we have a reaction to.

I did not grieve the deaths of several of my family members but did grieve the loss of an actor and personal muse quite heavily. The loss of something and someone who was an important symbolic presence in my life was very hard, and it took me a long time to come around to the idea that it’s okay to feel loss over something other people might not understand.

Grief is a highly varied and complicated emotion that no two people process the same way, and it is not inherently a bad emotion. Grief is the acknowledgment that something has come to an end, be it an opportunity or a presence or even just the possibility of more stories. Grief isn’t always about death, and it isn’t unhealthy. I don’t think you were grieving Eddie as a life that ended, but as a story that ended, and a story that meant a lot to you.

Don’t let anyone tell you how to feel your emotions when those emotions are your own.

i have kept this ask in my inbox for weeks. partly because i was at a loss for words to be met with such kindness and understanding and every time i tried to think of a response i came up empty, and partly because i wanted to keep it to myself. i wanted to hold it as close to me as i could.

i've gone back and reread it more times than i can count. i read it probably a dozen times when i first got it, when i was really in the thick of it all, and it soothed me more than anyone might ever know. it was like having someone come and lay a blanket over your shivering body. and i'm better now, almost all of the sadness and the hurt has passed and i'm happy with eddie. he's alive to me, breathing and whole and as eccentric as ever. we're in love. we have a future together. but there will be times where, for a moment, i will revisit that grief and i'll come back to this message and it will soothe me in the same way it did when you first sent it.

enter, thank you. you didn't have to write all of this out, you didn't have to sympathize with me and you didn't have to reassure me but you did anyway. you took the time to share your knowledge and your thoughts and your experiences to bring me peace in a time where you knew that i needed it. thank you for understanding me. thank you for giving me the room to feel what i was feeling. thank you for being here while i've been on this really weird and complicated and emotional journey of grief. it's meant the universe to me. i'm beyond grateful for you. 💗

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boyfrillish · 1 year

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The serotonin these two give me... Wow...

#crystext #i mean my other otp level ships that I came back home to do that too but yeah....#it really is astounding how much serotonin bursts they give me love that thank you and bless

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darlingofvalyria · 8 months

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❝I am not a Valyrian Sex God.❞

part 03 | pucker up, buttercup

chapter summary:

[ The line of friendship dances in uncertain waters when you and Aemond play the fake dating game a little too well. Helaena reveals much more than meets the eye to Aegon, and vice versa. Oh, and Alys. Hi Alys! ]

[ 5,399 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— mostly fluff, a wee bit angsty, a little smutty - profanity, i swear a lot sorry too shhshs - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— thank you so much for the love this little fic is getting so far!! it truly warms my heart that you people enjoy my twisty, crackpot humour and my version of a modern au for these characters!! as much as i am grateful for george for making these characters and these stories, i have to say what propelled me to write is the beautiful community i found. truly, from the bottom of my heart. ❥ fandom is built on community. i would not have had the courage to start writing fanfiction again if not for ya'll. so thank you so much. for the consumers and the creators. you, us, are the beating heart of fandom. please take care of each other. + comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

"Please tell me I haven't inhaled so much drugs in my system that I am hallucinating our— and I say this with a lot love, okay you know what? No. Our Nasty Little Bitch of A Grudge Holder we call, lovingly, a brother, is not dating the hottest friend you have? Hel? The hottest friend you told me if I ever came anywhere near, you'd rip me a new asshole? How is Aemond's asshole still intact?? Or does our brother just have a gaping fun-house slide down there? Hello? Hellooo, pay attention to meee. This is so rude, why didn't I call Daeron?"

"Because Daeron knows nothing and I know everything?" Hel snorts, finishing up re-naming Aemond's contact from CURRENT DUMB BRO to NASTY LITTLE BITCH OF A GRUDGE HOLDER, before turning to Aegon on her laptop.

Like she predicted, Aegon is already pouting, leaning back on what Helaena remembers is their grandfather's rum-coloured leather office chair. In his office. In Oldtown.

After a quick stint in Ibiza, it seems Helaena's brother had found himself back in the country, and worse— back in their grandfather's office. Without him in it.

"Grandpa's going to kill you." Helaena snorts. "How'd you even get inside his house?"

"This is not the first time I have been faced with a locked door, baby sister."

"You broke a window didn't you?"

"I really, really had to piss."

She rolls her eyes. Hard. "You are a boy. You can literally just pee anywhere."

Aegon flutters a gasp and a hand over his chest. "Excuse me? I may have a penis, but that does not mean I have to be uncouth. For shame, Helaena. Also disgusting. But that's not why I called." He steeples his fingers as he leans forward, pressing his elbows against the nice mahogany desk. "What the fuck is happening over there? I'll be there by tomorrow and I'd like to know what the fuck is happening before I start—" he wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, " — shaking things up."

A dark look crosses Helaena's usually amiable pretty face that has Aegon leaning back. "If you do anything— and I mean anything — to ruin what I have going on, Mother may help you for I certainly won't. The Stranger will look like an old friend, Egg, don't you fucking dare."

"What the fuck," Aegon exhales, wide-eyed and horrified. "Have you been watching M. Night Shyamalan movies again?"

"No," she lies. "I'm doing this for my OTP."

"Oh my god, you're the one who roped them together?" Aegon strangles a sigh. "Lae-lae, we've talked about this. No matter how much you think they're cute, Aemond—"

"— Aemond and Alys broke up."

"Then they'll be together again before the weekend's out." Aegon rolls his eyes. "It's Aemond."

"Not like this." Hel shakes her head. "I got her to agree, Egg. And they're like... Gods, the pictures don't do them justice. They're magnetic. They make plans at the apartment, Aemond is there all the time— my OTP is happening."

"You are playing god between two people you care about."

"What else am I supposed to do?! They're obviously so hot for each other, and now that Alys is out of the picture, and she's there, right in front of him, Egg, you should see how it is between them. The energy. It's crackling. They have inside jokes, they're so comfortable with each other, and I will have the most beautiful nephew and niece—"

"—Helaena Targaryen," Aegon admonishes with finality. Hel quiets. Often times, the siblings forget Aegon is quintessentially the oldest sibling. They had never been close to their father's actual firstborn— the age gap is wide and there's just... too much complicated family fissures in between that it feels awkward, even when they're relationship is okay, to interact or consider Rhaenyra anything past a cousin you see every other holiday because you have to, much less now that their father's dead — so Aegon is their big brother.

And though they see it in bits, in flung comet pieces that you see preciously once every few hundred years— the vibe of big brother grasps the edges and reminds the younger siblings.

Sure, he's a dick. Sure, he's a whore. Sure, he's their mother's least and most favourite headache— but Aegon is their big brother.

"You cannot play puppeteer like this. This can blow up in their faces. And they care for each other. Their friends. If this blows up in their faces, it is going to hurt."

"I know that," Helaena says quietly, pout pinched but face mostly cleared. "You don't think I don't know?"

"I think you've already outweighed your chances and your choosing a possibility."

Helaena looks truly scolded at that point, and it juts a guilt down Aegon's stomach. But Aegon likes you. Maybe not like in the way that his brother likes you— in that intense, possessive way he gets with people and things he care about because there are so few of them — but he likes you. And he loves Aemond on a bad day, and likes him on a good one.

And Aegon knows, as a superior power about crashing and burning, that this is going to hurt both of you in ways that he truly doesn't think Helaena understands.

Because he isn't blind (as his brother) (bad joke?) (probably) to what he sees in Aemond's gaze when it looks at you. Sure it's possessive, sure it's the same way he looks at most people he keeps close to his heart.

But he was the one who saw how Aemond looked at you before Alys came into the picture. Before it morphed into nothing but platonic; morphed close to how he looks at Helaena. In that soft, I'm So Glad This Person Exists I Would Kill Literally Everyone For Them.

Aegon always thought he looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Etch you into his skin until your shape is in red marks across white plane. He looked at you like I Would Kill Myself If You Asked.

It was the possibility of devotion dipped in insanity. Aemond had so few things, much less people, who so vocally, physically, and emotionally cared for him without addendums.

The only real reason he never did anything before was because you were Helaena's best friend. Helaena loved you. And he couldn't destroy that alongside the fact that you might leave his side.

And then Alys happened and that focal point moved.

Aegon knew his brother. Not as intensely, and maybe that's the reason he could see it. To see clearly past the intensity and recognise its edges. Aegon knew his brother in his marrow.

"When this crashes and burns—"

"If!" Helaena quips stubbornly. "If it crashes and burns. Come home. You'll see, Egg. Aemond just needs to see."

"And what if she doesn't reciprocate, Lae-lae? She's not hard to love, and this is Aemond." Even Helaena knows his feelings, once taken root in whatever form, can blossom.

Helaena smiles softly. "Come home. You'll see. I can see it. I've seen it. The possibility of them, and it's so pretty, Egg."

It's really not all that pretty, fake dating.

Maybe it could be, but Aemond Targaryen is such an ass.

"This is not like The Devil Wears Prada fashion montage," you grumble, pinching off the big, 60s, yellow sunglasses off your nose to glare pointedly at the man sat on lounge chair. "All the zippers and tugging— this is not as pretty! And I look ridiculous! I don't wear dresses like these, Aemy!"

"You don't look ridiculous, you look like my girlfriend." He makes his emphasis with an inch raised eyebrow and pouty lips twitching not to laugh. "That's the point, is it not?"

You make a drawl huff. It's not just that his words were right— that's what the past hour has been, roaming around all these big named fashion brands where the staff just knows Aemond Targaryen, if not just by him sauntering in with all the swagger of an asshole you'd walk the other side of the street to ignore, then by the flash of his black card (or three, 'cause what the fuck is money to Targaryens holy shit) — but the way he's sitting as he appraises every look he's chosen for you.

He's lax, as could be in his usually perfect posture, with his hips in the middle, and one leg braced down whilst the other is raised to his other thigh. A confident man's sitting position, with an arm over the length of the sofa, balancing a champagne a trying-to-suppress-her-giddiness staff gave him.

At your disapproved glare— down on your nose at him because you're standing over him, lording over him, as he's sitting down — and he's smirking up at you. As if the power dynamics don't shift by whoever is looming over the other.

Aemond doesn't need to stand to make you feel all fluttery with a smirk and a strong gaze against your body. His eyes gaze from the bottom of your heeled toes, slow, slow, slow, until it reached the top of your head.

Surely you've only imagined his gaze lingering on certain parts of you that now felt hot and tingly.

Surely.

"Plus," he continues with a hum. A sip of champagne. "Isn't this your idea?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn't you tell me that I should prepare the kind of outfits that Aemond Targaryen's girlfriend would wear—"

"Yes, but I—"

He leans forward, taking pleasure in arguing with you, as he settles his elbows on his knees, pressing both of his feet flat on the tile. He's looking up, still, but his eyes are intense and the corner of his mouth is twitching from a grin he's trying to fight.

"And even when I told you that didn't matter, that whatever you wore would be fine, you insisted?"

"Because I thought it'd be fun!" you growl and he falls in faint, amused laughter. His eye is sparkling and there's a joy to him that makes you giddy. You truly have missed Aemond as you know him. "Because I wanted a fun dress-up montage, but nothing about this is fun! Why are you choosing so many goddamned zippers, and they're all so fucking tight?"

You plop beside him, stealing his champagne. Staff look away, trying not to ogle too much between you two. As you take sips of his drink, his hand, still over the sofa's arm, begin drawing idle circles on your exposed shoulders. It warms you and calms you down, melting further in the seat beside him.

"I liked the dresses," he finally murmurs. "The ones before this. The flowy fabric ones."

"Those are summer dresses," you say though don't know why.

"Hm," he hums. "You look pretty in them."

You look up at him and he's looking at you, a small smile on his face. The proximity is too near to be proper but not near enough if you're fake dating. You study his silver lashes and the scarred flesh.

"Thanks."

"We'll get them. Is that alright with you?"

You snort softly. "You're paying, Aemy. You can do whatever you want. Can't believe this is how your dates with Alys usually went."

Hatching plans meant unloading information about his former relationship with her. Going through their relationship so you could understand it better, better proportioned the good and the bad, and secretly, make him see the red flags that should jump out in clear, plastic red.

"Not at first." He's looking away now, but his finger is still drawing circles. There's a wistful tone to his voice, like seeing through a dream and a memory. "But when it got... bad, it seemed like the only time we weren't fighting was when we were in public. Almost subconsciously, whenever things got tensed, I'd offer to take us out. Do anything outside of our bubble. Money isn't an issue, and before Alys said she felt like a... cheap whore than a girlfriend, buying things for her, spending time looking through things to wear, to match almost, was safe."

"Gift Giving," you mutter with a nod. He turns.

"What was that?"

"A love language." He cocks his head. You sigh. "I mean it's stupid and not really theoretically accurate, but for fun, there's five types of love languages. People do this test thing and sort of box up the kind of love language you want to receive and what you give— but truly, in my opinion, a true kind of love demands all five for it to work."

He hums, intrigued. "And what are the five?"

"Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Physical Touch, Acts of Service, Gift Giving. But, you know, all of those should be given by a partner, in increments they can do for you. There shouldn't be a boxed fixture of what your relationship could be."

You shrug, standing up and stretching. You don't see him looking at you in the way that he has been for the past few days, and he doesn't know the tingles and feelings you keep between a smile and a sigh.

"Love looks different for everyone but it should have the same concept."

"And what concept is that?"

You turn to him, smiling. "That if you truly love someone, you can try anything. Love doesn't demand things that you do for the simple reason that you love the person enough."

"Love can be complicated," he says, and he's not arguing, not really. He isn't begging for you to understand. He is simply saying.

"Love can," you agree. "As most things are complicated. But it doesn't have to hurt."

It's a boundary line, the way he blinks, remembering why you're here together, why he gets to touch you in intimate ways, why he gets to pay for clothes, why you spend this time with him. A jolt. A shock.

You don't press and he doesn't retreat. The line exists not just to remind, but to stabilise any projections. Any dangerous tones.

You simply smile, nodding at the time. "Dinner date, babycakes. We can't be late for reservations."

"We can be late for a few minutes," he says, remembering echoes of how Alys sometimes got late. It isn't really her fault; there are days when she's too busy at the law firm, too busy with a meeting or two, or still finishing up her makeup because she doesn't like going to dinner in her work clothes.

"Sure, but we're here together and I know how much you hate being late." You snort.

"I don't hate it."

"Sure, but you got that eye twitch you do when you're annoyed," you tease, tapping your own eye before you wink at him and skip away.

For the past few days since the bar incident, by your suggestion, you and Aemond had pour out the intricacies of how Aemond and Alys' relationship worked whilst hiding your true intention of making him see its faults and corners, and at the same time, continue on with the charade of dating him.

It's been a packed week or so, going to your shifts at the bar, meeting with Cregan once and a while (boy had been busy, and he found the entire thing with Aemond incredibly hilarious).

You answered no question mark in regards on who the hand was, only sent a winky face or a kiss blowing emoji. You continue to post minute representations of your no-longer-single status in brief intervals, making sure that you never name him. You never publicly give him a recognisable body.

But for those that knew, knew.

It really wasn't that hard. There were only so much pale, toned hands, so much body builds you can hide with your hand covering his general face that you can hide without people making smart guesses. There wasn't a lot of pale, toned people around you after all.

But in your refusal to name him, the question continues, and so does Alys silent observation of every post. The only story she had liked had been the very first one.

You often wonder what she thinks, before your mind is devoured once again with everything else.

To be fair, as often as you had both been seeing each other lately— and it has been the most often you have been seeing of him — there were still things outside of Aemond and Helaena plans. And Aemond still had UNI to focus on.

"You know, I often forget you're still in university," you say now, comfortably warm in Aemond's car. All fresh leather seat and crisp new car smell despite knowing that Aemond's had this unit now for at least a year. He maybe rich, but he knew what he liked and took care of them.

He shoots you a quizzical look before looking back at the road. The city is bathed in a gorgeous stream of oranges and pinks, tie-dying glass buildings and bustle of city roads. When you look at him, you smile softly at how pretty the light hits him.

"Why is that? Do I look that young?"

"Your vibe is so old man on a nine to three, cigar breaks by four, and whiskey sours by seven pm."

He makes a disgruntled sound at the back of his throat. You laugh. "I would like to think it's my altruistic classicism. A timeless endeavour."

"Sure, old man," you tease then sigh. "Reality is, I'm so much older than you. I'm hanging out with a child. On my free day. Is this what it means to reach low status?"

"I am not a child." His reply is sharp, cutting, almost offended.

"You're in college."

"And of legal age? You're only four years older."

"Oh, right."

"What?"

You smirk at his dark look. "You like 'em way older."

His face, much like his gaze, heats up. You're imaging it when the ride turns red, the car slows to a stop, and he is looking at your lips. Surely it was, because you got transfixed with the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. A slow, tantalising movement.

It feels like an eternity stretched within three seconds. The light turns green and both of you turn away.

Well, there's been that. A few times. But it doesn't mean anything. Aemond is in that transition of trying to rid himself of bad habits, of being freshly single once again, and you know he and Alys get in on frequently. This had been a conversation a few days back, on a couch, smell of grease and pizza around the room while Murder She Wrote played in the background.

"Wait, wait, wait." You sat up, folding your legs underneath your butt, and giving Aemond your full attention with a little 'o' in your mouth.

"Wait!" Helaena calls playfully from her sway to the bathroom. "Imma pee!"

"Take care, my beloved!" you call back, before turning to Aemond with a big, Cheshire grin.

"Can we not dwell on it?" He's flustered but is trying not to show it, looking back to the TV as if he understood why there's a body on the plane.

But wine has been had, spilled and shared, and it's enough for you to grab that fluster and the topic, and smirked.

"No, no, we will talk about it. We shall! We must! Do you mean to tell me that by the end of it, most of the time, you two were just boning? Is Aemy, one of my favourite people in the world, a Valyrian Sex God?? Oh my god??"

"I am not a Valyrian Sex God."

"Okay, girly pop, please." You raised a hand in a 'talk to the hand' motion and he was smiling at you, entranced and frustrated. "Women talk, Aemy!"

There was a flush and Helaena came back. Wine did things to Helaena, and she was stumbling and giggling as she flopped behind you, turning around and encasing you in a koala hug.

"Women talk, baby bro." Helaena nodded sagely. "Even I try not to listen, they talk, alas."

"And Alys has said those hips—" You pointed a j'accuse finger at his hips, then his mouth. "—and that tongue has done things that can make the Maiden blush."

Helaena groaned behind you're back, a slew of 'ew's escaping her mouth. And you were still being playful, teasing, but Aemond was looking at you, though scarlet, with a deepened expression.

And at that moment, both of you were thinking the same thing.

His chin brushing your thighs, your sighs like music to his ears, and his tongue making you scream.

Warmth pooled, twin expressions share a gaze. Hunger, desire, shame.

The connection was destroyed when Helaena abruptly jolted and fell down the carpet. Because she was holding onto you, you got pulled with her.

"Are you okay??" Aemond asked.

Hel gasped. "I thought I saw Bobby. I think I squished Bobby."

You shook your head. "You didn't. Bobby is spry. Bobby knows to move away."

Aemond's confused face peered down at both of you. "Who's Bobby?"

"The local spider that lives here."

"Of course." And he smiled.

You smiled back.

Helaena giggled beside you but when you ask her, she only shook her head.

And the silence that lulls in the car is like both of you reaching the very same memory and having to sit through the stifle of that drunken interaction about his sex life. He coughs, you let out a breathy giggle.

"I should admit something," he says, parking the car in front of the restaurant. Dusk is settling, sunset in bright red and orange turning to a cool blue and pretty lavender— and when you turn to him after getting out of the car, coddling your jacket close to your body, he looks nervy. Apologetic, almost.

"What? What'd you do?"

He bites his bottom lip. "I know something about this restaurant."

"I would assume. You chose it." Your eyes narrow, giving the black-out floor to ceiling windows a look. The Painted Table is lit up in a scrawled font on top of it.

You step inside, not bothering to turn to his call of your name, and is submerged by the restaurant's vibe. It's a darkened place with meaningful lighting but a casual air, a bar on the side, and an upbeat jazzy music dancing in the air — it looks good. The place smelled delicious.

Nothing about it sparked familiarity to you, but the anticipation from that look of guilt on his face brought you to a high-strung, so when he calls your name again, just behind you, you turn.

"Is this where you had your first date with Alys?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, but—"

"Aemond?"

The voice is familiar, and you don't stop enough to think before you're turning to the low, clear voice that's just a hint of husky, and Alys' green eyes go wide at your appearance.

She's dressed nice, dressed to go out in a black dress dipping low and fabric tangled around her body to show off her curves. Her inky hair was swept to one side and her mouth was bloodred.

Alys Rivers, owner of Aemond's firsts. The woman he seemingly can't let go off.

You smile. It feels fake. "Oh. Hi Alys."

Her shock staves off into a genuine smile that makes you guilty. "Hi, my love. I see you two are together. Always attached at the hip. Dinner?"

Before you nod— or maybe strangle Aemond — he comes forward, taking your hand in the process and lacing it. He's looking at her as if he's setting a challenge when Alys' eyes fall on your intertwined hands.

"Yes," he says. "We are."

"Well... that's good. This place is great. I—" Someone calls her name, she turns back. You shoot Aemond a withering glare you hope conveys how much you're going to beat his ass after this. She turns back, smiling still. There's a pinch between her eyes but it's gone by the third blink. "Well, I have to go. I'll see you both soon, okay?" She turns to you, stepping forward, not minding the Targaryen beside you. "Especially you. We haven't hung out in a while."

"That's true, I've missed you, you crazy witch." And she laughs and you smile, because you genuinely consider Alys to be one of your friends. Not maybe as deeply as Helaena's, or as close, but Alys was an amazing person and you enjoy her company.

Plus, right now the one you're angry about it solely the man holding your hand.

Alys turns to Aemond, and he stiffens. Between them is a complicated look. So many things unsaid, before her smirk softens. "It's nice to see you too, Aemond."

And she turns away, walking back to her table, to her date, when you tug him with you to the bar. As you order a dry martini, he speaks. Calm and soft.

"You're mad at me."

"You knew she was going to be here." You turn to him, arching an eyebrow, hating the way your chest pangs. "You stalked her and brought us here because you wanted to use me."

He shifts, face crumples at the word 'use' and calls your name in a plead. "It's not like that."

You snort, taking a sip of your drink when it arrives. "Don't lie."

"Okay. Yes, I did. I... I made an impulsive decision because I wanted to see how she could go on a date as if we were nothing." Bitterness cripples his words, the smirk on his lips is ironic and darkened in hurt. Your heart hurts for him, but you can't give him a pass just like that. He hurt you too.

"You could've told me."

He raises an eyebrow. "You would be okay with this?"

Your own smile is ironic and darkened by hurt. "You're already using me, Aemy. That was the deal I agreed, for Hel. It would at least lick the wound to have been in the know, and not, you know, got shot in the face with it."

At the first part of your tirade, he looked like he wanted to argue with the using part, but the realisation weighs him because it is true. To him, he is using you. And it's a cheap shot on your part because you were also doing this for him, out of your own free will.

You sigh when he turns away, guilt dipping low.

"You're such a dumbass."

He hums in agreement.

You're aware of a gaze from the tables, somewhere in the ocean of jazz music and chatter, Alys is looking, and you kinda wanna make this good for him. You were already here after all.

Your hand reaches his jaw, sliding across his neck until you reach his nape and fingers tangle with the baby hairs there. His hair had been wrapped into a bun. Sleek and fluffy.

He turns to you, to your touch, in shock. "What are you—"

"Try not to look so surprised," you whisper, stepping close to him until your noses are bumping. "We're supposed to be dating."

And then you slant your mouth against his.

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