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chrisbitchtree · 6 months

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Everyone Say Thank You to Daddy Wade!

When Mobius's admittedly pathetic attempts at flirting fail, he resorts to letting Wade trick Loki into making a move!

Lokius - NSFW - 4.5k

***

With one last glance at Loki, Mobius turned the corner onto Wade’s street, picking up his pace, eager to escape the late November cold. It looked like it’d been raining, but it seemed to have stopped, leaving only a bunch of puddles and grey clouds behind. Mobius was thankful, since he couldn’t find his umbrella before leaving, and Loki had started to complain that Mobius was taking too long and was going to make him late to meet up with Thor.

That was one of Mobius’s favourite things about the new chapter of the TVA. The fact that with the newfound freedom to use his magic (by his own decree, his first, as co-director of the TVA with Mobius), he’d been able to use it to locate and reconcile with his brother. It had taken time, a whole lot of it, but now Loki and Thor were closer than they’d ever been before. Just thinking about it brought a smile to Mobius’s face.

Now that the two were thicker than thieves, they were spending a lot of time together, both alone, and frequently with Mobius and Thor’s boyfriend recently turned fiancé, Bruce. Loki had been shocked when Thor had announced that he was dating The Hulk of all people, telling Mobius privately that he couldn’t understand what the two saw in each other, but Mobius thought their relationship was sweet. They really seemed to balance each other out. Just like Mobius and Loki.

Not that Mobius and Loki were a couple, much to Mobius’s dismay. He wanted the man with every fibre of his being, wanted to kiss him and hold him, fuck him, court him, marry him. Not even his desire to own a jet ski outweighed how much he wanted Loki.

He’d tried his best to make his feelings known to the god, but he was a terrible flirt, so usually his come-ons either went unnoticed, or were brushed off as a joke. Mobius sighed, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets and walking the last couple blocks to Wade’s apartment.

Mobius has never actually intended to befriend Wade Wilson, and on paper, they were a bad match. Wade was rude and gross, his home and his life a mess, and the way he flirted with anything on two legs, and honestly, more than once that Mobius had seen, things on four legs, but somehow their friendship worked. They’d met at a party at Thor and Bruce’s, and had gotten to talking, finding common ground in their love of power ballads, video games, and surprisingly enough, tea, and had been meeting up to hang out when they could find the time since.

So, when Loki had told Mobius he was heading to New York to go suit shopping for Thor’s wedding, where Loki would serve as best man, Mobius had decided to tag along and go visit Wade, who’d told Mobius he had a new rooibos tea he wanted him to try.

He rang the buzzer for Wade’s apartment in his new building, and after a minute, the speaker crackled to life.

“What the hell do you want? If you’re selling something, we don’t want it. Unless it’s girl scout cookies, and only if it’s thin mints.”

Mobius smiled at the sound of Blind Al’s voice. “Hi, Al. It’s Mobius. Can I come in? Wade’s expecting me.”

She didn’t reply, but she did buzz him in, so that was something.

As he waited for the elevator, a flyer tacked to the bulletin board next to it caught eye. It advertised the knitting circle that Wade had talked about starting and had apparently finally gotten around to. It was supposed to be for residents only, but he’d invited Mobius, telling him he should bring Loki along. The flyer stated that the first meeting was in two weeks. He opened his phone and as he rode the elevator, he entered the details in his calendar, wondering what it would take to actually get Loki to come with him.

The elevator opened on the 10th floor and Mobius stepped out, knocking on the first door on the right.

“I’m finishing up on the shitter, but it’s open!” shouted Wade, much to the dismay of both Mobius and the woman fumbling with her keys and a bag of groceries three doors down. She gave him a startled look that he pretended not to see, quickly stepping through the door and shutting it behind him.

“There’s my favourite silver fox!” Wade grinned, stepping out of the bathroom and grabbing Mobius’s shoulder’s giving him a big, smacking kiss on the cheek as Mobius slid his coat off his shoulders.

“Wade,” Mobius replied, ducking his head. Feeling a blush beginning to creep its way onto his face, Mobius busied himself with grabbing a hanger from the hall closet and hanging up his coat and scarf. Before he’d made friends with Wade, no one had ever really flirted with Mobius, and all this positive attention still made him slightly uneasy.

Wade would wink, or pinch Mobius’s ass, he’d tell him how hot his moustache, or greying hair, or belly were, but he also knew that Wade was like that with everyone, so even if it did make him blush, he was fine with it, because he knew it was probably just a reflex for the other man at this point. See human, spew flirty comments.

“Make yourself at home, Moby. Preferably in my bed. I’m just putting the water on for the tea. I’ll be back in a minute.” Wade called, as he walked down the short hallway to the kitchen.

Mobius ignored the comment about Wade’s bed and settled into the couch, next to Blind Al, who had a book balanced in her lap as she ran the fingers of one hand over the braille and held a bottle of beer with the other.

They sat in silence as her fingers glided over the bumps so fast that Mobius wasn’t sure how she could even be absorbing the words, until Wade’s shouting broke through.

“Do you want a cup of tea, Al?”

“Do you think this one would taste good with PBR?”

There was a beat of silence, and Al returned to her reading before Wade replied. “I’m not sure. No, time like the present to find out though!”

With that, he re-entered the living room with a tray containing a teapot, three mugs with spoons, cream and sugar, and a platter of assorted cookies, biscuits, and jams. For a guy who Mobius had once seen with his own eyes eat, according to Wade himself, three-day old pizza from a box on his living room floor, he sure put together a nice tea party spread.

Wade set the tray down on the coffee table before turning on his Switch and grabbing the controllers. He walked back over to the couch, wedging himself into the frankly too small space between Mobius and Al, and started to pour the tea into the trio of cups. He slid the can of PBR out of Al’s hand and poured the remainder into her mug along with the tea before handing it back to her and grabbing a biscuit that he proceeded to slather in jam.

“This is awful, Wade,” Al said, a look of disgust on her face, but it didn’t stop her from taking another sip.

Mobius tried a sip of his. He personally thought it was delicious, but he also hadn’t cut his with cheap beer. Grabbing a chocolate dipped cookie, he settled back into the cushions as Wade started up Animal Crossing.

When Loki had once asked what kind of video games he and Wade played together, he mentioned GTA and Call of Duty, but the truth was that while yes, they had played both of those, they spent most of their time together working on Wade’s Animal Crossing island, taking turns planting flowers, redesigning his home, fishing, and trying to get rid of his most hated villagers. It was their (and Al’s) little secret.

They spent the better part of an hour and a half sipping their tea, picking at the cookies, and selling crops at Nook’s Cranny, and were headed to the Able Sisters’ so Mobius could give Wade his opinion on some items that were new to the shop, when Wade brought up his favourite topic of conversation, Mobius and Loki’s relationship, or lack thereof.

“You know that pathetic little meow meow has the hots for you, Moby.”

Now, Mobius knew he could play ignorant, pretend he had no clue what Wade was talking about, but that would only buy him an extra minute or two, so he took the bait.

“Shut up, Wade. We’ve been through this. He’s not into me.”

Wade laughed. “Then why the fuck does everything about him scream otherwise?”

Mobius tried to protest again, but Wade cut him off. “We’ve been through this a million times, so I’ll just cut to the chase this time. The way he clings to you like he’s scared that you’ll disappear. The way that as far as he’s concerned, everyone else ceases to exist the second you walk into a room. That weird, overly large smile that he only whips out for you. The “fuck me” eyes he’s always giving you. The fact that he never laughs at my jokes, but when you say something mildly funny, he acts like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. Any of that ring a bell?”

Mobius shook his head. “Have you ever considered that he doesn’t laugh at your jokes because they’re not funny, Wade?” That wasn’t true, and Wade knew it, but he still needed to take the other man down a peg sometimes.

Wade clutched at his chest, over his heart. “Oh, how you wound me, Moby. And yet, daddy Wade is still willing to help you get yo man.”

“I’ve told you before. I’m not calling you daddy Wade.”

“Fine then, what about daddy Deadpool?”

“Still no.”

“Can I call daddy Moby?”

Mobius sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to shoo away the headache currently brewing behind his eyes. He had no clue why he kept this friendship with Wade up. No, that wasn’t true. He did know. It was the massive collection of teas, and the fact that under his incredibly weird exterior, he actually had a heart of gold and would do anything to help his friends.

“Is daddy Moby staying for dinner? I hope so because I already took out porkchops to defrost.”

Mobius shook his head. “Sorry, but I can’t. Loki wants to make me some kind of pasta dish for dinner.”

“And you say that man doesn’t love you. Cooking for someone is the surest sign of true love!”

“Wade,” Al said, setting down her book. “Don’t forget your matchmaking plan. We worked hard on this. It can’t go to waste.”

Oh, great, apparently Wade was discussing his pathetic, non-existent love life even when Mobius wasn’t around.

“Right!” Wade replied, throwing an arm over Mobius’s shoulder. “So, hottie long legs is the jealous type, right?”

Mobius couldn’t deny that. Loki had a jealous streak three thousand miles long. “Yes? Where is this going?”

“Well, what Al and I were thinking was we just have to get your pal Loki to catch me flirting with you. He won’t be able to resist staking his claim like a cat pissing to mark its territory. Mobius had his doubts, but really, what could it hurt to try?

“Sure,” he said, hesitantly.

They were just finishing up at the Able Sisters’ when Mobius’s phone started to ring. Loki. He accepted the call, and barely had a chance to say hello before Wade was yanking the phone out of his hand.

“Hello, Mr. Laufeyson, Al and I are holding Moby hostage. If you want him back, you’ll have to come get him.”

Mobius could hear shouting from the other end of the line but couldn’t make out Loki’s words.

“Perfect,” Wade replied once there was silence. “Now we wait.”

***

Loki dug his nails into the palms of his hands, stopping just short of having a full on freakout on a street corner in Queens, as he waited for the light to change so he could cross. Before splitting up, the two had decided that they would meet at Thor and Bruce’s since they’d arrived much closer to Mobius’s destination. It had only seemed fair.

But now, Wade Wilson was insisting that Loki fetch Mobius at his apartment, and it’s not like Loki had much choice in the matter, since Mobius had the Tempad. He huffed and grumbled under his breath as he walked to the entrance of Wade’s building. He called Mobius again, and Wade picked up this time.

“Hello,” Loki greeted the other man curtly. “May you please release Mobius so we can return home?”

“Sorry, no can do, Amigo,” Wade replied. “You want him, you’re gonna have to come get him. I’ll buzz you up.”

Resisting the urge to stamp his foot like a child, Loki threw the door open as the buzzer sounded, almost pulling it off it’s hinges, and not caring one single bit.

He tapped his foot in the elevator, ignoring the glances from the woman and her two children who were occupying the space with him. Finally, after what seemed like eons, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. He rapped loudly on Wade’s door, and soon heard a reply from within.”

“Come in! It’s open!”

Loki pushed through the door, taking in the small space before him. He’d only been once before, and it didn’t look any less like a bomb had gone off in the room than the last time. He’d once asked Mobius what he saw in the other man, and he’d shrugged, telling Loki he was kind and funny, and had good taste in tea. Loki was hilarious, and could be kind if he wanted to, and he personally thought that most tea tasted like leaf juice, but he could get used to it if it meant keeping Mobius to himself.

He zoned back in, his eyes landing first on Wade’s creepy roommate the ridiculously, if aptly named “Blind Al”, and then beyond her, Wade, with Mobius on his other side. There was a loveseat to the right. Why wasn’t one of them sitting on that. And wait, was that Wade’s arm around Mobius’s shoulder? And his other hand on Mobius’s thigh? What on earth was happening here? Why was that human pile of trash flirting with Mobius?

Loki couldn’t have that. Mobius was his. But he wasn’t, not really. Because Loki had been too much of a fool, too wrapped up in his own feelings about not being good enough for Mobius to stake his claim. What if it was too late?

No one seemed to be paying any mind to Loki, Al running her fingers over the pages of a large book, and Wade speaking to Mobius in low tones, whispering in his ear. Loki cleared his throat, and Mobius and Wade turned their heads slowly towards him, as if they’d just realized that he was there.

“Oh hey, baby cakes, come in, make yourself at home. There’s room for a fourth here on the couch, if you want to join us?” There was most certainly not enough room, and Loki was about to say as much when something inside him snapped. He could not lose his precious Mobius to Wade Wilson, of all people.

He stalked over to the couch and yanked Wade’s hand off Mobius’s thigh, his arm from around his shoulder. He then took Mobius’s hand and pulled him free of the saggy cushions.

Mobius moved towards the front door of the apartment, but Loki redirected him, guiding him, with a hand on his back, down the short hallway. One of these doors had to have a bedroom behind it. After two false starts with a linen closet and a bathroom, Loki finally found a bed behind the third door, and shoved Mobius into the room, losing the door behind them.

Turning, he walked towards Mobius, until there was only an inch between their faces. Mobius stared at him as Loki slid one hand into the back of his silver hair, and settled the other onto his hip, and pulled him in for a kiss. It was short and chaste, just their lips briefly pressed together, but it was the best first kiss that Loki had ever had.

Pulling back, Mobius looked at Loki with wide eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Loki bridged the gap again, and his face just a quarter inch away from Mobius’s, he whispered “What I should have done a hell of a long time ago.” And with that, he pulled Mobius in for another kiss. Where the last kiss had been brief, just a peck, this kiss was anything but. It took them a moment to get it right, their noses bumping as they met head-on, but then Mobius tilted his head just a little, and everything slotted into place.

Mobius fisted his hands in the front of Loki’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer as Loki sucked on Mobius’s bottom lip and tugged on his hair. Mobius moaned softly, licking at the seam of Loki’s mouth, seeking entrance that Loki willingly gave. They stayed like that, pressed tight together, for an indeterminate amount of time, before they finally had to come up for air.

In the end, they never even made it to the bed. They panted into the small space between their mouths, and Loki turned them, so Mobius’s back was up against the door. Loki was glad the other man was wearing a button down as he made quick work of the first few buttons, just enough to gain access to the juncture between Mobius’s neck and shoulder. He sucked and bit and nipped and licked all over every inch of skin that he had access to, leaving quickly purpling marks in his wake. Good. He wanted Mobius to think of this every time he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the next few days.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Loki continued open the buttons of Mobius’s shirt, stopping first to suck on his nipples, one by one, deeply pleased with the increasingly loud whines that Mobius was emitting. At some point, he’d weaved his hands into Loki’s curls, and Loki could feel his already half hard cock jump in his slacks when Mobius tugged sharply.

He continued to work on Mobius’s pecs, rolling and pinching his nipples between his fingers as he bent down and sunk his teeth into the soft meat of Mobius’s belly, brain practically melting out of his ears as it quivered under his touch. It was something Loki had wanting since he’d met the man, and it felt like heaven on earth to nuzzle his face against the hair there.

His lips followed the trail of hair to the top of Mobius’s jeans, and he slid down to his knees, and he tilted his head up, meeting Mobius’s molten gaze and giving him a questing look as he slipped his fingers just below the waistline. He stood back up and pressed his lips hot to Mobius’s neck. “Can I? Can I please make you feel good, Mobius?”

He took the answering groan as an affirmative and made quick work of the button and fly on Mobius’s pants, not even bothering to pull them down, instead plunging his hand inside. There as barely enough room, but Loki made it work, circling Mobious’s cock with his fist. He thumbed at the head, already wet with precum, using the slick to ease the way.

Mobius moaned, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily, as if he was overwhelmed by the pleasure, as Loki stroked him fast and hard.

“Is that good?” he asked, continuing his ministrations.

Mobius, who by now had worked open most of the buttons on Loki’s shirt and was sucking marks of his own into Loki’s collarbone, pulled off, panting. “Yes, fuck Loki, it’s so fucking good. You’re so fucking good. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Loki chuckled softly, stroking faster. “You’d better believe it, because it is.” He could feel everything he’d wanted to tell Mobius the whole time they’d known each other about to spill out. He knew the middle of a hand job wasn’t exactly the best time for heartfelt conversation, but he couldn’t hold back. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Mobius. You’re so beautiful. So kind and smart and patient, so sweet to me, believing in me when no one else did.” Mobius was bucking into his fist, his breath becoming shallower, and Loki knew he should focus his attention on making the man come, but he couldn’t stop now. “I love you, Mobius.”

With that, Mobius was groaning loudly, his head banging on the bedroom door as he came, spilling hot into Loki’s fist. He kept his head tilted back, eyelashes fluttering as he caught his breath, coming down from his high. Maybe, if Loki was lucky, Mobius’s orgasm was so good that he hadn’t even paid attention to what Loki was babbling on about.

“Do think they heard us?” Mobius asked, sounding abashed.

“Who cares,” Loki replied. “Those perverts are probably out there getting off to this.”

Mobius laughed but didn’t disagree. He pulled Loki to him, wrapping his arms around his back and nibbling on his ear lobe. “I love you too, pussycat, for the record. I think a part of me always has.”

Pussycat. Oh gods, Loki was weak for this man. It was a good thing that Mobius was holding Loki to him, because Loki suddenly felt as if his legs were about to give out under him.

“Can I return the favour?” Mobius asked as his hands roamed over Loki’s exposed chest, his eyes reverent.

Loki nodded, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words. He expected Mobius to slip his hand into his pants, but instead, he slipped down onto his knees, mouthing at Loki’s cloth covered cock, his breath hot against the fabric.

“Oh Mobius,” Loki breathed, his voice coming out like a whine. “You don’t have to.”

Mobius chuckled. “I’m well aware that I don’t have to, Loki. Have you ever considered that I want to? More than anything?”

Well then. Loki certainly wasn’t going to stop him if it was what he truly wanted. “Be my guest.”

With that, Mobius was quickly divested Loki of his pants briefs and mouthed at the flushed head of his cock. He ran his tongue along the dripping slit, and Loki gasped, sinking his hands into Mobius’s hair, and tugging hard. Mobius groaned at that, taking more of Loki into his mouth as his hands roamed up the back of Loki’s thighs before settling on his ass, which he squeezed, kneading the cheeks in the palm of his hands.

Loki loosened his grip on Mobius’s hair and used his hand to gently guide the man’s head as he took Loki all the way in, until his nose was nestled in the hair at the base of his cock. He bobbed his head a few times, and Loki could feel the coil of heat in his stomach tightening. He could tell this was going to be over embarrassingly fast, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when it felt so fucking good.

Loki tugged on Mobius’s hair in warning, but the other man only took him all the way back in, hollowing out his cheeks like he was trying to suck Loki’s soul out through his cock. He came close, Loki seeing white, going breathless as he came with a loud cry own Mobius’s throat.

In a moment, Mobius was back on his feet, and Loki pulled him into a kiss, licking into his mouth, not caring that he could taste himself on Mobius’s tongue. They stood there, trading lazy kisses, until Mobius finally pulled away.

“I think we should maybe go now, kitten. We’ve been locked in here long enough, and I’d like to get the walk of shame over and done with.”

Reluctantly, Loki agreed, and they got dressed, doing their best to smooth out the wrinkles in their clothes and flatten their hair.

They slipped out the bedroom door quietly, hoping that maybe they could leave the apartment undetected, but no such luck. Wade, who was laying on the couch, reading a magazine, let out a loud wolf whistle. “Hey cuties, glad to see you finally got into each other’s pants. I really fooled you there, didn’t I, Loki? I should receive an Oscar for my acting. Then I’ll be one letter closer to an EGOT. Or at least I’ll have one letter towards an EGOT. Actually, no letters, because I wasn’t acting. You’re hot hot hot, Mobius. It’s not hard to flirt with you at all! Do you two want to give daddy Wade a kiss as a thank you?”

Loki rolled his eyes, taking Mobius’s hand in his own. He had no clue what the man was on about, but he certainly didn’t want to kiss him, that he was sure of. “Thank you, Wade, but no thank you. I believe we’ll only be kissing each other from here on out.”

“Fine,” Wade replied, sticking his tongue out like a child. “I don’t want you anyway. I’ve moved on to daddy Wolvie.” At that, Wolverine appeared, inexplicably wearing a frilly pink apron over his clothes.

Loki’s cheeks burned with shame. It was one thing for Wade and Al to hear them, but quite another for Wolverine to hear. He was a real, distinguished man.

“Hi Mobius, Loki.” He greeted them. “Had fun, I hear?” He winked, and Loki had to turn, no longer able to look him in the eye.

“Uh, I didn’t realize you were having other guests, Wade.” Mobius said, reaching into the hall closet for his coat.

“Well,” Wade replied, not taking his eyes off his magazine, which Loki could now see was pornographic in nature. “When you ditched me for dinner, I had to make other plans. Couldn’t let those pork chops go to waste! How about you take a quick break from making my dinner and come give daddy Wade a kiss, Wolvie?”

“Never going to happen, Wade.”

“But it could!”

“But it won’t! Also, stop trying to make “daddy Wade” happen. It’s not going to happen.”

“If I stop, will you give me a little sugar, sugar?”

Wolverine rolled his eyes. “Maybe. If you’re a good boy for daddy Wolvie.”

Loki and Mobius took that as their cue to leave, and hand in hand, they slipped out the door, ready to head back home, far, far away from here.

#lokius #loki #mobius m mobius #loki x mobius #lokius fic #wade wilson #deadpool #wolverine #lemon #chrisbitchtree writes #my fic

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nicetoseesofttotouch · 7 months

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I have the biggest unpopular opinion in the history of unpopular opinions 👀

My annual fall rewatch is Hart Of Dixie NOT Gilmore Girls...

I cannot stand that much Lorelei, she's unbearable to me I'm sorry! I can watch some episodes here and there (especially anything involving Jess) or I could tolerate a rewatch but skipping lots of episodes per season, especially the last seasons

But Hart of Dixie? I can watch everything, it feeds my soul with a beautiful ending

#hart of dixie #zoe hart #wade kinsella #zoe x wade #george tucker #lemon breeland #annabeth nass #george x annabeth #lavon hayes #lemon x lavon #zoe x george #gilmore girls

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strideofpride · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Hart of Dixie Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lemon Breeland/Lavon Hayes, Lemon Breeland & Annabeth Nass, Lemon Breeland & Zoe Hart, Lemon Breeland & George Tucker, Lemon Breeland & Wade Kinsella, background Annabeth Nass/George Tucker Characters: Lemon Breeland, Lavon Hayes, AnnaBeth Nass, Zoe Hart, George Tucker (Hart of Dixie), Wade Kinsella, Brick Breeland, plus mentions of lots and lots of others Additional Tags: Post Series, Canon Compliant, lemon may have some deju vu but it doesn't matter cause she's marrying the love of her life! Summary:

It’s her wedding day. Well, okay, fine, her second wedding day.

Or, Lemon has a wedding day that ends happily this time.

#this was not how i planned to spend my evening but something took over #and i'm not mad about it #hayland #hart of dixie #lemon x lavon #lemon breeland #lavon hayes #annabeth nass #zoe hart #george tucker #wade kinsella #brick breeland #my fics

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putonmyfavoriteshow · 2 years

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Hart of Dixie Appreciation Week JULY 25TH - Favorite Dynamic/s

#hart of dixie #hodaw22 #the breelands #lemon x ab #lemon x wade #zoe x rose #zoe x lavon x wade #zade #i could've kept going but i'll leave it at this #a day a late but better than never #queue color para pintar

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screwitanddoitanyway · 2 years

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Hart of Dixie Prequel series

I constantly think about how good a prequel series for Hart of Dixie could be

Focusing on Wade, Lemon and George.

We start with them entering High School, so around age 14.

We have Wade, who's mother passed away 2 years ago, and before that he watched helpless as her cancer got worse. Since then he's been trying to look after his father who he loses to drink more and more every day. Whilst his brother Jesse, 18, spends less and less time at home and already has plans to leave Bluebell the minute he can.

Just watching as soft boy Wade becomes this hardened and cynical man because he had to grow up too fast and if everyone expects him to be a screw up why should he be anything else.

We have Lemon, who starts Freshman year all happy and full of life, but then her mother leaves abruptly and everything is different. She starts to rebel against the ideals of who shes meant to be. Whilst trying to step up and be a mother for her younger sister.

Then we have George, whos parents have high expectations, constantly comparing him to older brother, who openly hate Bluebell and its traditions. We watch as George becomes 'the golden boy' trying to live up to his parents wishes, but he also loves this town. And he falls in love with Lemon.

I just think a 4 season series with these character arcs could be awesome.

Also having a little shout out to other characters from the main series. Lavon Hayes has already gone off to college to play college ball, but he's always in the local papers, or on a TV in the background, someone always talking about him and how wells he doing.

Ruby is the senior head cheerleader who loves to make Lemon's life hell.

Dr Harley Wilkes is around patching up the kids whenever they get in trouble.

Jimmy Praboo is the senior football captain that plays pranks on George and Wade.

Watching the friendship between Wade, George and Lemon develop. Them being best friends, to by the time they are seniors, Wade is on the outside.

#hart of dixie #HoD #zoe hart #hartofdixie #wade kinsella #george tucker #lemon breeland #zoe x wade

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starryeyesxx · 3 months

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#hart of dixie #wade kinsella #lemon breeland #wade x lemon #zade #zoe x wade #hod #mine #mine: hod #mine: wade kinsella #mine: lemon breeland #mine: wade x lemon #mine: zade #hod: s02e22

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hartofdaily · 19 days

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HART OF DIXIE Lemon Breeland & Wade Kinsella 1x08 — "Homecoming & Coming Home"

#lemon x wade #wade kinsella #lemon breeland #s1 #1x08 #ours #by emily #usersmash #userber #userlolo

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 10 days

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Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Part 1: Linked Here!

AO3: Linked Here :)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Scenes from the afternoon hookup replay in your mind over and over as you sit in the library at a battered old desk in the history section. All you can think about is Shoto’s mouth. And his hands. And his abs!! And his sweet face.

You twiddle your pen in your hand as you try to draft out an essay for class. Unfortunately, every time you try to jot down a few thoughts your mind goes blissfully blank and you remember the tender way he spoke to you.

"How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?"

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.”

“Find me later so we can discuss this.”

You look down at your watch excitedly – 7:55 PM. You eagerly wait for Shoto to appear so the two of you can talk and – with any luck – canoodle amongst the history textbooks. You sit patiently as the time ticks by.

Soon it’s 8:30 PM. You’re not worried, though. Shoto probably assumed you’d want to get some work done first.

9:15 PM rolls around and you start to get worried. You try to distract yourself with school work as doubt creeps into your mind.

10 PM – Shoto still hasn’t showed.

“Shit shit shit.” You check your phone again and again as you wade through the endless wave of homework your teachers have assigned. You keep losing yourself in a math problem or in a passage of your History textbook, only to remember with a jolt that you were expecting to see Shoto and the bastard hasn’t showed.

At 10:30 PM you realize with a sinking feeling that it’s almost past curfew. You pack up your things and prepare to head back to the dorms. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake.

You slide your books into your bag as a anxious thoughts dance through your mind like annoying fruit flies: Does Shoto regret your mid-afternoon hookup? Is he going to pretend it never happened? Did you push him too far? Does he think you’re a slut for stripping off your shirt and basically pressing his face into your naked breasts!? The synapses of your brain jump through dozens of equally horrid and embarrassing scenarios as you march back to your dorm room, blushing furiously with humiliation.

You run through the afternoon’s events in your head for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find a clue as to why Shoto would have left you waiting alone in the library. Your cheeks burn hotter as you recall the gentle way Shoto had kissed your neck before leaning in to capture your lips in one of his first kisses. "How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?" You shiver as you think back to how gentle he was, how each caress felt so loving and intimate.

You shake your head to clear it. Shoto must have a valid excuse for not meeting you in the library as he had promised – no boy could kiss someone that intimately and then instantly cast her aside, right?

Before long, you’re walking through the doors of Class 1A’s dorm building. You shiver with discomfort as you recall how earlier that day you essentially scaled the side of a building for a boy. Does Shoto think you’re an absolute fool with the extremes you went to for a quick make out session? You hope not.

You walk up the stairs and past the common area. You see most of Class 1A studying quietly. Sero, Izuku, Kirishima and Ida sit around one of the kitchen tables reviewing their math homework while some of the girls compare English notes on the couch. To your relief, Shoto isn’t there. Mina waves to you enthusiastically, beckoning you to join her and YaMomo as they review the finer points of Hamlet. You politely decline and make a beeline for your room. You turn the key in the lock and it clicks – within moments, you are blessedly alone.

You toss your heavy book bag to the ground and prepare to wallow in self-pity. It’s 10:56pm and Shoto still hasn’t reached out to you. Your phone is vacant of text messages and your brain is absolutely fried from schoolwork.

You dim your room lights and switch on the favorite fairy lights for some peaceful ambiance. Time for some self-care, bitch! You think resolutely as you swap your uniform for your favorite pair of pajamas. You toss your phone to the floor with abandon and climb into your comfy bed. You breathe in deeply, allowing yourself to revel in the coziness of the dorm room.

You take out your five-minute bullet journal and write a quick list of things you're grateful for: 1. The opportunity to study at UA 2. Your lovely and encouraging friends and classmates 3. Your cozy room and the roof over your head 4. Shoto’s mouth 5. Shoto’s abs 6. Shoto’s goddamn hard AF dick

Um. No.

You snap the journal shut before you get too derailed.

You pull your comforter over your head and sit in silence for a moment. You’ve never been the kind of person to go completely boy-crazy. You always used to make fun of those girls who would go gaga over pretty boys and their texts and their kisses. But as you recall the searing way that Shoto kissed your lips earlier that day, you suddenly understand what all the boy-crazed girly hype was all about. Oh my god. You have a crush. A big sloppy embarrassing crush.

In the silence of your room, you suddenly here a buzzing noise coming from the general direction of your book bag. You struggle to disentangle yourself from your sheets and your journal goes flying. You ignore its crash landing as you slip from your bed and collect your phone from where it lays abandoned on the carpeted floor.

It’s Shoto.

Your heart skips.

Todoroki: Y/N. Are you awake?

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Did Shoto just send you his version of “U up?”

Y/N: Yes, I’m still up.

Todoroki: I know it’s late, but can I stop by?

You tense. Oh God – he’s going to come by to tell you that he’s not interested. He’s going to thank you for your time making out and say that you probably should avoid hooking up in the future because it’s a huge distraction. You’re sure that whatever he has to say is going to be negative and leave you feeling embarrassed. Why else would he have skipped out on your rendezvous in the library?

You take a deep breath. You have always been fairly practical with a mind for strategy, two qualities that had really set you apart when you had taken the UA entrance exams. You know that the best course of action here is to rip off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later. Better to know how he feels about your hookup now

Your heart sinks as you type out:

Y/N: Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in. Try not to be seen by anyone.

Todoroki: Of course. See you shortly.

Your heart beats double time as you look down at yourself. Your pajama set consists of a silky blue top with matching shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination. You chew on your thumb nervously – should you change into something more appropriate? No – Shoto has seen your boobs. A little bit of leg is not going to kill the half hot half cold hero in training.

You quickly remake your bed and kick your book bag beneath your desk so that the floor is clear. You plop down on your smooth comforter and wait, knotting your hands together as you anticipate Shoto’s arrival.

A few anxious minutes pass, and then you hear gentle footsteps pad down the hallway outside your door. The knob turns quietly, and in a moment Shoto Todoroki steps across your threshold, quietly closing the door behind him. He reaches down to turn the lock with a gentle snap of his wrist.

You take him in – he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. You’ve never seen him dressed so casually before and you assume that these are what he wears as pajamas in the privacy of his own dorm room. His hair is tousled and damp from a recent shower, and the burned side of his face shines where he’s clearly applied some kind of scar cream or moisturizer. His outfit projects a comfy air, but his expression is dark and stormy. Your heartbeat quickens in fear – what could possibly have caused him to be in such a tempestuous mood? Was this about your kissing?

You bite at your lip with worry. But when your eyes lock, his expression softens. In two quick strides, he’s at the bed. He leans in close so that your noses almost touch.

“Hi.” He says softly, before dipping his mouth to meet yours. You blink in surprise as your mouths melt together. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the kiss. Pleasure radiates up and down your spine as you kiss him back. He places both his palms on your hips and pulls you closer, letting out a small moan of satisfaction as he slides his tongue into your mouth. How silly you feel for thinking he didn’t want you like this!

After a few moments, you break apart.

“Hey there.” You whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful jaw. He leans in to kiss you again and you hold him in place. He stops and looks down at you inquisitively.

“I waited for you in the library, you didn’t show.” You say slowly, softly.

“My father decided to take me through some drills in one of the school’s gyms. I only finished a half hour ago.” His expression becomes dull as he speaks. “I’m sorry to leave you waiting. I wanted to see you - but I’m not allowed on my phone during training.”

Relief must have flooded your features, because he tilts his head to the side questioningly. You hold back a giggle – the way his head is tilted makes him look like a sweet dog asking its owner for a treat.

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh and pull yourself further onto the bed, patting the spot next to you as an invitation. Shoto climbs up next to you, sinking into the deliciously soft fabric. His eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“This is so comfortable.” He says, pressing his palm into the plush fabric beneath him. You recall his sparse traditional bedroom and realize that he’s never laid on a proper puffy mattress before.

“Hold on – it gets better.” You say pushing him off the bed so you can pull down the covers. You slip beneath the comforter and gesture for him to rejoin you. He climbs in clumsily, unsure how to position himself within the sheets. You prop a pillow beneath his shoulders as he lays down on his side. You toss the comforter over the two of you and lay across from him, feet almost touching beneath the warm layers of bedding.

“Cozy?” You ask as Shoto settles into the bed.

“Yeah.” He says in quiet voice, propping himself up on an elbow. “I always thought beds like this were excessive but…maybe there’s some merit to this.” He eyes a blue Squirtle plush that sits next to you in the bed. “Can I…hold that?”

You grin, biting back a laugh as you reach over to grab the Pokémon plush. “This is Squirtle – he’s one of my favorite plushies.” You hold up the stuffed animal and wiggle it in front of Shoto’s eyes as if it’s dancing. “Squirtle, Squirtle” you say in a low tone, trying to emulate the television character’s voice the best you can.

Shoto gives you a weird look. “I don’t get it. Why are you just repeating its name in a strange voice?”

“Shoto…have you…have never seen Pokémon!?” You almost screech in disbelief, before throwing a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. You quickly remember that you are in the dorms and the walls aren’t super thick.

“No, I wasn’t allowed to watch television unless it was about Pro hero work.” Shoto says, a tinge of sadness flowing along with his words. “But it looks cute and round and I really just want to hold it and squish it?”

“Yeah, that’s the general reaction to plushies. Dude, we need to get you that whale pillow you liked on Pinterest. You need more cuteness in your life.”

“Well I have you, don’t I?” Shoto smiles softly. “You bring more than enough cute into my life.” He reaches out and grabs the plush from your hands and squishes it a bit. “But this is pretty nice, too.”

Your face grows hot at the compliment. Shoto tucks the Squirtle under his arm and shifts around in the sheets until he finds a comfortable position. He looks adorable and soft as he cradles the bright plush in his strong, muscular hands.

When he finally settles in, he looks up at you enquiringly. “What’s wrong?” He repeats, looping you both back to the conversation form earlier.

“So…” You sigh with embarrassment. “When you didn’t show up and I didn’t hear from you…” You pause and Shoto gives Squirtle a squeeze. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again. Or at least that you didn’t want to make out with me again.”

“Oh.” Shoto wasn’t expecting this. “I thought I made it very clear how…enthusiastically…I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I didn’t realize I had left any room for you to question my attraction to you.”

“That’s nice to hear…but when you didn’t show at the library or send a text, I assumed the worst. My mind kind of went into full-blown panic mode. I thought maybe once you had time to reflect on our hookup, that you realized you didn’t like it or that you didn’t really like me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never felt that way before. Usually something like this wouldn’t bother me.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “But I think I really like you and want to be close to you, and the thought that you might not feel the same was tearing me apart for the last couple of hours.”

The words come tumbling from your mouth before you can stop and think them through. Why are you saying all of this!? Why does being around Shoto make you feel so comfortable and open to sharing? It’s so weird – and you’re absolutely sure he’s going to think you’re some kind of over sharing freak for telling him all of this.

Shoto looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking. “Something I have always admired about you is your ability to be straightforward about what you’re thinking and feeling. Most people aren’t like that, and I have a hard time navigating more subtle situations. Thank you for telling me exactly what you’re thinking – I value it so much.” He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving the bangs out of his bright eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I had abandoned you. I wanted to come to the library so badly. I want to kiss you so badly – it’s all I’ve been thinking about tonight.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Let me match your honesty with some of my own - my father is extremely strict. Ever since I was born, he’s pushed me to be better. To be stronger. He wants me to surpass him. He wants me to take All Might’s place as the number one hero.”

You gasp at this. Of course you knew that Todoroki was ambitious, but this…

“I don’t have any intentions of becoming harsh and cruel like my father. I’m not even sure if I want to go for the top spot on the hero charts.” He admits, almost bitterly. “That’s the path that my father has laid out for me. He’s obsessed with my training. With my ‘potential.’ But he doesn’t seem to give a fuck about how I feel. Excuse my language.” Shoto looks so sad, so despairing. He hugs the plush close, his chin tucked into his chest as he continues.

“I just want to help people and make them smile – just like All Might. But my old man just doesn’t seem to get that. Today, when he noticed how distracted I was… he didn’t ask if something was wrong. He just pushed me even harder.” Shoto avoids your gaze. “I think he purposefully pushed me to train into the night to keep me from meeting up with you. In his eyes…you’re a huge distraction for his prized creation.”

Suddenly you notice how exhausted Shoto looks – there are pale bags beneath his eyes. You scan his body and see light bruises beginning to form on the exposed skin of his arms. You wonder - just what kind of training has Endeavor been subjecting him to?

You had never guessed that behind Shoto’s calm and collected exterior, there is just a normal teenage boy trying desperately to please his father, while simultaneously trying to defy him. The whole relationship seems complicated and messy and you’re sure what Shoto is telling you is only the tip of a chaotic Todoroki family dynamic iceberg.

“Oh, Shoto.” You say softly. You scoot forward and wrap your arms around him. He freezes, unsure of what to do but nevertheless comforted by the sudden closeness. You reach behind him and card your fingers through his hair. You see goose bumps emerge across his skin, and realize that he likely hasn’t been touched this way before.

“Is it okay to touch you like this?” You whisper.

He breathes out a shaky “yes” as he moves to toss the Squirtle plush to the floor. Once his arms are free, he works to wrap them around you. He rests one strong hand on your back and slings the other around your delicate waist. He draws you close to him and holds you tightly as you continue to run your fingers softly through his two-toned hair.

He’s silent as he buries his head into your shoulder. There’s an emotion that’s radiating off of his body that you can’t quite place – sadness? Frustration? Maybe even relief? After a few moments of running your fingers through his hair and gently up and down his back, he finally starts to relax. The tense muscles in his shoulders loosen, and he seems to come back to himself.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers, muffled as he turns his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not great at expressing my emotions. I can try to put it into words…I’m feeling so weighed down right now.”

“Because of your father’s expectations?” You prompt, running a light fingertip down his spine. He shivers a bit in response, but not in an unpleasant way.

“Sometimes I wonder if he sees me as a real person, as a son. Or am I just his big project?” Shoto wonders aloud, his voice a bit strained. You feel his eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin beneath your jawline.

“Shoto...that sounds like a lot to carry. You’re just a high school student – your father shouldn’t be putting that kind of pressure on you. It’s not normal.” You tuck a lock of red hair behind his porcelain ear. “This situation sounds so complicated. It’s no wonder you feel so conflicted. I’m here any time you need a friendly ear to listen as you work through it.” You continue to caress him softly over his clothes. He begins to lean into your touch hungrily. “But right now – at this moment – you’re safe. In this room, in my arms, you don’t need to hold other people’s expectations of you in your heart. When you’re with me, I want you to feel that you can just be Shoto.”

You still your fingers as you let your words sink in. Shoto is radiating a deep sort of sadness that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice breaking a tiny bit as he processes your words. After a few beats Shoto exhales deeply, his breath ruffles your hair. “I’m not used to talking about these things. Actually, I’m not really used to talking much at all. Or being touched.” You can feel the blush on his delicate cheeks warm the skin of your neck.

“I can tell.” You say before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he chuckles.

“I don’t know why it’s so easy to do these things with you – talking, touching…kissing.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder to look you square in the face. “There’s something about you…”

Suddenly, the room feels as if it’s charged with Denki’s electrification quirk as his bright mismatched eyes meet your own.

“I think I’d like to continue exploring this with you.” He says matter-of-factly, moving his legs to intertwine with yours.

“W-what does that mean?” Your breath catches in your throat as he dips forward to kiss down your neck.

“It means…I want to keep doing this. Kissing. Talking. I suppose I want to keep getting to know you like this? Intimately.” He places a soft kiss in the hollow behind your earlobe. “Would you like that as well?”

“Yes.” You breathe, with zero hesitation. He smiles into your neck before running the edges of his teeth lightly across your smooth skin. You let out a soft moan in response.

“Good. Then we’ll figure this out together.” He moves to kiss your cheek soundly before releasing you from his embrace. “But right now it’s well past midnight, and we both need our sleep if we’re going to continue to be top of our class alongside YaMomo and Ida. If we both let our grades slip, it might tip people off.” He moves to get off the bed.

“Hey – wait!” You grab his arm and pull him back under the covers. “I have no problem with you staying here for the night.”

“But wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Shoto’s face reddens, but he lets himself be drawn back into your gentle embrace.

“Would it be anymore inappropriate than you making out with my tits?” Shoto’s face burns an even brighter red at this question, but he also looks quite pleased with himself (you assume he’s recalling the way he kissed down your breasts earlier that day as he smirks). “Sharing a bed should be perfectly responsible as long as we keep all of our clothes on. You said you want to explore? Well get over here and let’s figure out if you make a good big spoon.”

This earns one of those rare full smiles from Shoto – he practically glows. “Alright.”

He pulls himself close to you. You reach above your head and switch off the string lights that wind their way around your room, and the tiny dorm fills with darkness.

You turn to face the wall and scoot your body back until you feel Shoto’s solid warmth. He reaches around to pull you close until bodies are touching, flush together. You tuck yourself into Shoto’s warm, muscular body and sigh with contentment.

“So do I make a good big spoon?” He questions, tentatively nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply. “Mmm, your hair smells like lavender.”

“We’ll need plenty of practice to truly ascertain the full range of your spooning abilities.” You say in a faux-academic voice, causing him to snort out a laugh. “But so far you’re doing great.”

You interlock your legs and pull his strong arms around you. You wiggle a bit as you try to find the comfiest spot in the mattress. You unintentionally grind a bit against Shoto and jolt when you feel something hard pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Sorry.” He mutters softly, embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll take care of that for you tomorrow.” You yawn as you close your eyes and settle in for a good night’s rest. You grin into the darkness as you feel Shoto’s dick get even harder as he mulls over your response, wondering at what you could possibly mean by “take care of that.”

You didn’t realize you were so tired. You’re dimly aware of Shoto’s breathing growing slow as he drifts off into a comfortable sleep. You smile softly to yourself as you slide further into his embrace. This poor, touch-starved boy has been through so many terrible things and your heart aches for him.

Even in sleep he’s tense, his jawline stiff and his muscles almost locked around you. But he’s warm and soft and smells like jasmine and mint tea. You hope that for the next few hours you can provide him with a safe harbor to rest and escape his troubles. You let your eyes flutter close and breathe in deeply, dreaming of Shoto’s sweet face as you fall gently into sleep’s embrace.

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katebeckets · 1 month

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top 5 favorite hod episodes

oooo, i'll need to hear yours too. and i'll need to revisit when i finish my rewatch (I'm at the end of season one - trying not to get too far ahead of gifsets but we'll see how long that lasts lmao)

1x17 "Heart to Hart"

1x11 "Hell's Belles"

2x01 "I Fall to Pieces"

2x18 "Why Don't We Get Drunk"

4x07 "The Butterstick Tab"

honorable mention to 4x04 "Red Dye No. 40" simply because I grew up with that allergy and it was always stupidly exciting when it was acknowledged 😂

ask me my top 5 anything!

#basically... any lemon x zoe or lemon x wade episode LOL #and a healthy dose of parental trauma #answered #bigszs

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hwaightme · 1 year

Text

The meaning of 'Jeong'

☔ pairing: yunho x f!reader ☔ genre: comfort, fluff, angst ☔ summary: jeong (정/情) - the intimate and warm feeling, the closeness and affection arising from one's relationship with another person. ☔ wordcount: 5.8k ☔ warnings/tags: stress, a lot of work stress, burnout, disregard for own health, language, a little arguing, yunho driving, yunho singing, business, office, implied office disrespect, no need for words when yunho knows, knight in a shining automobile, snow and rain, on the verge of a breakdown, starry night, unedited, lmk if anything else~ ☔ taglist: @doom-fics @legohwa @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven ☔ network tags: @k-labels @ateezlovenet @kflixnet ☔ a/n: hello there, sometimes we are in need of some yunfort~ warmest hugs, and much love! All reblogs, comments, thoughts, notes appreciated~ Thank you so much Sky for ideating with me, inspiring me, and fueling first my San, and then my Yunho brainrots <3 would not have happened without you~

It seemed that no matter what you did, everything served to further agitate you - another penny in the bottle of emotions that was threatening to overflow if you as much as hinted at your utter exhaustion. With all your might you wanted to convince yourself that this was temporary, you were trying your best and that no matter what happened, it all would end up being for the better. But sometimes, too much was just what it was. Too much.

Your troubles had wounded themselves tightly into an impossible knot, weighing you down until you were in a hopeless crawl, barely sentient and resorting to existing on autopilot just so you could avoid tearing up in a public place. You were not about to give your colleagues the sadistic satisfaction. With hefty heaps of sarcasm and barely concealed impatience, you waded through meeting after meeting, discussing projects that had backlogs larger than your anger. Somehow, as the day progressed, what you had already deemed to be a ‘not so good day’ had managed to one, two, triple-up itself.

First, you were notified, twenty minutes before the official launch of a function update in an internal, company-wide application, that there was a severe bug found, and the release would have to be delayed until further notice. Nothing new for a product manager to hear, but considering that you had just spent two hours in a metaphorical grill with your own senior manager, as well as the director of the department, you were not about to ‘not take things to heart’. The pressure only built as you were pinging person after person, with your dual monitor glowing from all the messaging windows, fighting against the torrent of your subordinates’ uncontrollable procrastination, all an attempt to reconfigure task assignment to fit in the same sprint. You cursed the ‘agile’ framework time and time again as you upped the severity on at least seven story points for your team, and hesitantly, transferred a hefty number to yourself.

This was a never-ending cycle. One which you would never break no matter how hard you tried. Such was your job; at least that was the excuse you gave it, since the monetary compensation was good enough to be motivated to put up with was clearly draining. In calls from early morning until late in the evening. Constantly juggling everyone’s workload and having to keep your finger on the professional pulses of at least fifty people, globally. You were no stranger to having meetings at awkward hours of the day, either. As you watched your colleagues beginning to pack up and leave for home, chatting away about their families, or about some new restaurant that opened in the area, or about some sports game, you realised you were completely deflated. Looking at your calendar, there was only one meeting – with partners in the US, to go, but it felt like an impossibly daunting task. Exhaustion was weighing heavy on your eyes and tension in your neck made it impossible to sit comfortably. But you still did it. Still sat there, in your office chair, accompanied by the squadron of chronic overtime workers whose heads were dotted across the floor as far as your eye could see, and pretended like it was not nearing nine o’clock at night.

You had promised your boyfriend that you would stop drinking coffee at weird hours, him having been horrified at how you could handle the bitter beverage, while you would pretend you did not see him sneak sweetener into his mocha. But with both of you getting busier and busier, and with you additionally trying to drown out the noise that came with not seeing him as much as you would have wanted, you slipped into your routinely coffee machine visits. The rumble of the artificial barista as it brewed up your only source of energy was soothing – the one sound in the workplace that did not pose a threat to your mental health, nor to your growing headache. Every sip was a temporary lull in an otherwise chaotic corporate fiasco you had found yourself in. Oh, how you wished you could tap out; this was your only conclusion to the dull, monotonous interlocution where not once, but twice did one of your co-workers abroad show their complete ineptitude in all things technology related by failing to share screen and check chat.

As you bid farewell to the last of the officemates who you agreed to mutual acknowledgement with, you leaned back in your chair and sighed. With the pitch black night outside, the artificial fluorescence that illuminated your pallid, tired skin appeared to be stronger, drying your eyes. If you were to stay frozen for a while, they would turn off until the next sudden movement, and maybe you could catch up on a much needed nap, cutting your sleep debt by at least a few minutes. But at the same time, could you afford those few minutes? When you were left alone with your mind, the notion of productivity and achievement became skewed, and what you would previously deem to be okay, or good enough, easily moving on to the next task, now metamorphosed – daunting, demanding monsters that haunted you, highlighting their inexistent faults in a dark crimson, covering your vision. If there was free time, that was time that could be spent working, perfecting, editing. And if it was not spent in that way, it was time wasted. Simple as that. Inadvertently, you became a lethal collaborator of the very cycle you dreaded waking up for the last couple of weeks, and were now in the process of breaking it, twisting it into a downwards spiral. You were aware of this, and yet, you remained passive, dismissing all alarm bells as overdramatization. The increase in cooling coals in your ambitious fire did not phase you, for you decided you had more important things to focus on. Like staring at your emails, unable to conjure a single coherent thought.

The words were swimming in front of you, the caffeine no longer doing anything to serve you. All that was left was the chocolatey aftertaste – you had your coffee snob colleagues to thank for campaigning for having proper beans be ordered, so everyone could travel to faraway places at least through the notes the beverage had, the harvest, taste the sun that blazed down on the rolling hills proudly bearing the farmlands. Only the memory of the dark roast sticking to the roof of your mouth, an unpleasant dryness settling along with the realisation that there was no chance you would be making any more progress. You heaved another displeased sigh, and after rolling your shoulders a couple of times, pressed on the power button, seeing how your distorted reflection appeared before you as the screens went black.

It was easy to imagine ghosts waving you goodbye, as the click-clack of your heels resonated through the main reception on the ground floor of the skyscraper where you were one of the many ants. A lonely security guard stationed by the turnstiles nodded you his farewell, hearing the beep of your id card being accepted. You nodded back. He was one of the more approachable-looking guardians of the money-making machine, you had seen him shake a joke with his fellow suited-up brethren a total of two times and you were not about to discourage yourself with the accompanying thought that you had been working in the company for just over a year now. You have not had the share of your favourite megawatt grins that would have dispelled your grim disposition, so every bit of negativity had to be treated with caution. You were a ballistic missile being transported in a rickety mule-drawn cart with one wheel falling off. Bit by bit. Step by step. You just needed an uneventful commute home, so you could collapse into your bed and forget about today, until tomorrow would inevitably remind you, and so the loop would start again.

But there it was. The cherry on top of the disgusting cake. Of course, the weather had to fit the atrocious mood. Even though your calendar explicitly stated spring, and you had been more than excited to welcome the longer days and the blooming trees and bushes, the temperamental elements were bestowed upon you as what could only be an evil prank. A cocktail of clumped up snowflakes and icy cold rain beating down on the side walk, the light emanating from a nearby streetlight gaining the appearance of static due to the rapidly cutting streaks. You cursed under your breath, already saying goodbye to your felt trench coat and blaming yourself for being too optimistic and not metaphorically gluing an umbrella to your hand. It was difficult to hold the tears that began to well up and inevitably blur your vision, turning the puddles and buildings into an urban soup. You had always wanted to see yourself as strong, or at least strong enough to be able to sustain yourself and be proud of your perseverance. But as you stood there, a stride away from being soaked by the downpour, you were trying to accept that you were fated to be ‘that one passenger’ on the metro, wavelengths of stress and misery vibrating out of you. The passenger who would have everyone sitting as far as possible and obviously concerned. You looked down, watching a stray shiny wrapper float down to the curb on a stream of water, stopping once it reached the sewage drain and the holes ended up being too small. Your hands clenched into weak fists, and you trembled, the nervous lump in your throat becoming painfully noticeable and spurring on a growing flood of apprehension. Under the stormy night sky you were so small. A tiny dot that would not leave as much as a footprint, insignificant against the menacing, ceaselessly falling drops of water, like a barrage of nature’s heavy artillery. As you were about you turn up the collar of your coat in attempt to do something, anything to protect you against the rain that you were about to step into, a voice called out, in part muted by the battering of concrete, but you would still recognise it anywhere.

“Would be cool if you could answer your phone sometimes.” Your head turned sharply to the right, in the direction from which you heard the sweet, deeper set tone.

Face slightly obscured by the edge of the huge umbrella that was loyally protecting him, there, approaching you, ambled the man who you would not dare expect to spontaneously visit you. Sure, you had your share of fantasies about how it would be like to have your boyfriend pick you up from work, or to meet up for lunch together, but both you and Yunho had phenomenally chaotic work schedules, and even calls lasting for longer than five minutes had to be planned well in advance. And while you were over the moon when you could spend time with him, the recent scarcity had led into a mounting pressure for you, to maintain a lighthearted disposition, to not let your troubles interfere with him and his life outside of a busy, demanding career. While that could have been your pride talking since such an approach took courage, your comfort was not at the forefront of your mind when you chose to not tell the full story to Yunho, when you faked a smile and covered the bags under your eyes.

"You know I can't use my phone in the office." You huffed, stuffing your hands into your pockets and feeling for the device, which you preferred to keep on do not disturb unless you knew someone was meant to be contacting you.

"Well, you are not in the office anymore, Y/N. But it’s alright, I completely get you. It’s late enough for you to not even bother with it until tomorrow, honestly." Your boyfriend shrugged his shoulders, and as he joined you under the roofing that protected the entrance from the mid-March cries of winter, he lowered and folded the black umbrella, revealing himself entirely to the streetlamp, and dim light emanating from the glass that guarded the reception area. You took in his divinely sculpted form, his smiling eyes and lips, and, in shock, realised that it had been far too long since you had seen this wondrous man in person.

He was dressed as though he had just stepped out of the dance studio, which, knowing Yunho, he very much might have. A beige hoodie, black tracksuit bottoms and some dual-toned sneakers to tie everything together he looked dangerously cuddly, which only further agitated you. Why did he have to come here without warning? Why did your ray of sunshine have to show up when you were nothing but a seething, thunderous raincloud?

"Thanks, Yun. But how and why are you here, exactly?" you did not mean to sound irritated, but your spent nerves were getting the best of you and took control of your speech. Yunho quirked an eyebrow but dismissed his perplexity in favour of lightening the atmosphere and cheering you up.

"My spidey senses told me you might need a knight in a shining automobile. And judging by how you don't have an umbrella, I think I'm right."

It was much more than just the lack of an umbrella; at your happiest, you were the type of person who would sing in the rain. It was the awkward hours at which you responded to his texts, the evident struggle you went through to keep your eyes open whenever you two would video call after work, but most of all it was how you so obviously held information back from Yunho that prompted him to approach his manager and carve out the time he otherwise would not have. If there was anything he learned over the half a year, and counting, of your relationship, was that you were a fighter, much like him - an energiser to a fault. You would give, give and give some more until there was nothing left for you, and then would lead yourself into the illusion that you were just being lazy when you were actually falling apart. You were putting on a brave, calm and collected face, and your hesitation to drop the mask in front of him was unnerving. If there was anyone in your present life who should be your pillar of support, a person you could trust, depend on, lean on be it emotionally or physically, it should be him. In Yunho's eyes, work and some pre-determined timetable was always adjustable when a loved one was in trouble, and hell, you were of the same opinion: when it came to racing across the city in the middle of the night just because he hinted at the fact that he had sustained an injury, you would stop the universe. So why did you not consider the basic healthy principle as something that was not applicable to you?

"But aren't you busy?" your inquiry sounded rhetorical. As though you had already formulated an answer for yourself and were unwilling to accept any other. To be frank, yes, Yunho was busy. So were you. Such was life. However, this element of your lives did not define you, nor did it imply having to take a secondary position in another’s life. Yunho shook his head, stepping closer to you until your arms were almost brushing.

There was a melancholic air to you. Days passing in minor chords, accumulating into a tune, then a song, then a symphony. Your sonata filled with dreams falling flat, and sharp comments forcing you to adjust your dynamics and rhythm. Yunho had fallen in love with the beautiful music of your heart – a beacon of kindness, selflessness and positivity, you had always been the first to encourage him, sometimes messaging or calling him before his members even had a chance to turn in his direction to wish him luck. An innate, deeper sense of what was around you, Yunho noticed time and time again how you elegantly navigated social landscapes, reading people, places and striving to simply do what was best for the situation you faced. You were one to intuitively know something was going on before it could even have the chance to consciously register.

But that also made you prone to wearing yourself out. Sacrificing yourself for those who did not deserve it, and not leaving enough to perform even the most basic human functions. Your boyfriend was always in awe of you, and how you could possibly have so much love contained in your body. As he gazed at your form while you rocked back and forth on your feet – a habitual action that he had realised was one of the most telling signs for your worry bubbling over, the strong urge to erase whatever parasitic dissonance was taking up space in your magnificent mind grew and grew until he could not resist to take your hand in his, smiling when he noticed your lips curl into the ghost of a smile as your fingers intertwined.

"Not busy to love you. No come on, let's get you home, you spent enough time in the glass box as is." He tugged on your hand, ready to open the umbrella again to lead you to the car he had parked around the corner, but you would not budge.

"I swear you had prac-"

"I am here. Okay? Here, now." He desperately wanted to bring you back into the present. What was outside of your control, and was not your decision to make should not preoccupy you, and yet if you caught onto as much as a hint of being the source of inconvenience for another, it sent you into a grim spiral. Not this time, Yunho was not going to let you keep doing this to yourself, even if it took a lifetime.

"It must have taken you so long to get here I-" your voice was growing quieter and quieter as you focused on the sensation of Yunho’s warm hand pressed against yours.

You had not realised how much you missed the feeling, and the reassurance that came with it. He was here, indeed. He was here with you. He was there for you. You raised your head as soon as he squeezed your hand a couple of times but struggled to maintain eye contact due to the evident concern written in his glimmering orbs. The tender, compassionate eyes, irises a dark mahogany hue, a safe haven in your hardship. You wished you could fall into those pools and drift into the blissful serenity they offered. At the same time, it was terrifying how he was peering right into your soul, making it seem as if your vulnerabilities were right there, on display, just for him. A shiver ran down your spine despite the layers you were wearing.

"If you checked your phone, you would now that my schedule changed." He commented, gleaming.

"Oh, so you are saying I'm wrong for worrying now?" you tried to pry yourself away, but Yunho strengthened his grip. He was not about to let you float into that headspace again.

"I don’t mean to make you angry here, just pointing a thing out." Voice level, the dulcet timbre silently posed a question to you – what was the rush? Why were you trying to run from affection?

"I am not angry! Just why is it that out of the blue you decide to appear? I would have been fine-"

"What, have other plans?"

"Uh, no? Going home?"

"So, what is there to stop me from popping by to see my girlfriend?” he pursed his lips, pulling you towards him so that you were facing him directly. Spontaneously interested in everything but his piercing scrutiny, you took to studying the white drawstrings of his hoodie.

"But… uh… well… There is like, a lot happening right now, isn’t there? For both of us? I mean… you have all that filming to do, the comeback to prepare for… you literally just came back from tour and…” you caught yourself rambling, and trailed off into the sound of rainfall.

"Hm. Figured."

Yunho nodded to himself, clicking the tip of his umbrella against the ground as though dotting a full stop on a page. Confused, you attempted to prompt him for an elaboration.

"Excuse me?"

"That you are burned out."

The phrase was a scalding hot iron thrown at the barriers you had painstakingly been building around your mind palace. You knew that it was true. Hell, if someone had just asked you to speak the truth about what you were feeling, this was the first thing that would come to mind, but were you going to say it? No. Never. What you were feeling and what influenced you was nobody else’s problem.

"Am not." It was childish, but it was the only response you could conjure without making tears well up in your eyes. Yunho was too close, too attentive, too much for your distressed and hurt heart.

"Are too."

"Look I am fine. There is nothing-” you peered at the darkness on the other side of the street. Tuned into the rustling of the trees that lined it, and wished for yourself to become part of the scenery instead of having to confront what Yunho was trying to get you to admit.

“You said there is a lot happening for both of us, and then you just list things off about me,” he was not going to let you go this easily, both in discussion and physically as he removed his hand from yours and instead placed it on your waist, “I am perfectly aware of them. I know my limits, and I know that I am managing fine only because I am honoured to have so many people supporting me. And now, I want one of these people to tell me what this ‘a lot’ means to them, and why they are now looking in the other direction.”

Your head snapped back to Yunho, revealing your misty-eyed state. Immediately, his expression softened, and he pulled you in, keeping you flush against his chest as he absent-mindedly rubbed your back with his thumb, while his other hand was keeping the wet umbrella a safe distance away from your clothing. You bit your lip as you took in Yunho’s comforting scent. He never wore any particular perfume, instead opting to smell like a mixture of fresh laundry and a miniscule hint of soap. And yet, if you could bottle this and keep it, you would in a heartbeat. To you, this was what the aroma of home, of safety was. If he wished to make you unravel your ball of troubles, this was the way to do it, you confirmed as you felt yourself automatically melt into his touch, blinking away tears that you were tired of holding. Not exactly aligned with your scheduled ‘half an hour of breaking down when you get to your apartment’, but who were you to complain about Yunho staying here with you, in the cold, adamant on defeating your inner voice that otherwise would have led you into a further darkness.

"Let's continue this in the car, yeah?" His voice wavered, dropping into the softest whisper which jolted you out of your guards entirely, and you let yourself be guided by him to his car.

As you ambled, side by side, you were enveloped in a total silence, the raindrops forming an abstract beat on the umbrella above you. Arm around you, fingers landing just under your shoulder, Yunho was afraid of letting you go even for an instant, the fragility in your steps and fumbling for a response as he asked if his hold felt alright for you exposing your inner dejection. And once he had you and him settled in the front and driver’s seats respectively, he put the key into ignition, but did not turn it just yet. As the rain painted a blurry masterpiece on the windshield, he tilted his head, and looked at you.

“Tell me about your day.” A simple ask, but to you it felt like one of those unsolvable mathematics problems. You could lie, and on any other occasion you probably would with a classic ‘I’m fine thank you and you’, but you would be foolish to think that Yunho would buy that. If anything, he would explicitly label the nonsense for what it was and encourage you to give him a real answer with nothing but those gorgeous, hopeful eyes of his.

“It was… you know what, it was a lot. Too much even. Really, the last couple of weeks have been too much.” You uttered, annoyance starting to boil within you as you recalled the rollercoaster of events.

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want to weigh you don’t with it. Really, this is nothing. It will pass.” You fiddled with the buttons on the blazer, now within reach as you had unzipped your coat. Though your words were grammatically correct, nothing made sense to you. What was it that you were saying? Learned phrased out of the automatic deflection compartment, lines of defence in an effort to avoid discussion.

“Then why are you giving it so much power?” Yunho persisted.

“Uh… I don’t know, maybe because it is my job?”

“So, you get paid to have burn outs?” while he asked this in a joking manner, his smile did not spread past a brief flash. When you did not send a retort in his direction, he motioned for you to continue. You hated to admit it, but you agreed. As of late, this was exactly what your job had turned into. You being a hamster stuck in a wheel, running ceaselessly with no rest breaks in sight. Running in the hopes of there being a finish line. A success. A milestone. But all there seemed to be was more paperwork, more reporting, more meetings, more conflict, and more doubt.

“Well, now that you say that…”

“I am not one to judge professional choices and perfectionism. In fact, I respect you so much for being so dedicated, and being such a hard worker. But a siren is going off right now, okay? You are on the edge of a cliff, and we do not want you to fall off it, yeah?”

“What cliff?”

“I am an idiot for not picking up on this sooner, but now that I have, I must tell you: you are being pushed way past your limit, and you need a break. It is basically doctor’s orders.”

“But it’s just wo-”

“Tell me, what was the last thing one of your colleagues had said to you? About your work?” Yunho was no stranger to office gossip, through you having occasionally divulged to him the drama occurring in your workplace, and through the myriad of dramas he had watched with you and noticed that you often reacted to what was happening on screen as if it hit very close to home.

“Uhm… but it was not a nice thing so…”

“Say it.” Interest turned into a demand, and Yunho leaned closer to you.

“I only overheard it…”

“And? You still heard it.” Dropping his voice low, he rejected your subconscious devaluing of what had obviously been harm incurred.

“That I was trying too hard to please my boss…” a mumble escaped you, followed by a ragged sigh. Why was this so hard?

“That is fucked up.”

“…even though I was literally just doing my job. I was asked to do this report and all there was that was extra to it was me wanting to make it look pretty.” While you were not saying anything particularly heart-breaking, at least not by your definition, you choked up and had to force each word out with the strength you had left.

“I swear, humans are strange creatures,” Yunho mused out loud before chuckling, “says I, a human.”

“But that’s exactly why you can say it. And besides, you are a thoughtful human. Pretty much a blessing, Yunho. So don’t even.” Finally, a genuine grin graced your features, reminiscent of the first rays of sunlight after a merciless storm. Basking in the glow, Yunho returned it twofold and proudly wore the blush that started to rise on his cheeks. But he knew better than abandoning his mission so early on.

“Not to be cringe or anything, but to hear that coming from an angel is quite the honour.” He wiggled his eyebrows as you laughed airily. But the moment, unfortunately, did not last long, and your day was once more overcast by rumination. Yunho did not speak, waiting for you to give him as much detail as you felt comfortable with sharing.

“Sometimes, even if I am trying my hardest, I get this sense that I might be better off shutting up and giving the others the reins.”

“So, they are disrespecting their own manager?”

“I guess it's because I am younger than them or something. I mean, I get it, it is a gnarly economic period for the company, and everyone is losing their marbles, trying to stay above the water, but it would be good if they at least took my advice into consideration.”

If looks could destroy, then the glare that Yunho sent your office building would have set it ablaze. To curb his anger, he drummed out an abstract pattern on the steering wheel, though the grip that followed it told all. He blamed himself for not having been there sooner. For letting this pain pile on until it turned to a ball and chain that progressively set out to ruin what had been your dream career. If only it was as easy to wipe away cutting words and agonising actions like faint graphite etchings on a piece of paper.

“They should know their place, that’s what," he hissed, giving the wheel one final thump before pushing himself into his seat and turning to you, "You are being too soft on them, in my opinion. And that is why they are acting out. Promise me this, you will show them that you are a frontline manager, and you are more than capable of keeping things under control-”

“I’m trying-”

“-by taking a break. People can sense weakness, especially people who are not so kind to you. And while I cannot fix their attitude, I can try my best to help you. And before you say it, you are not coming into the office on the weekend, I am booking you up.”

"How do you know I do that?"

"Over the months of video calls you really think I did not memorise that one conference room you use to call me?" He shot back, smirking as you were at a loss, the only option being to roll your eyes and give yourself up to a legally mandated holiday.

“Yunho, you are too selfless, please, I just need a couple more hours of sleep and I’ll be all sorted."

“No, I will be selfish and take care of you. So, sit back, relax, and think of happy things. And that’s an order.”

“But that is not how selfish works?”

“It does in our world. Besides, don't you want to show them who is the boss?" The cheeky boyish grin won you over, and you beamed, whispering an amused:

"Unbelievable..."

Falling in love with Yunho did not give you butterflies in your stomach. If anything, it calmed the anxious knots that accumulated over however long the time between you being in each other's presence was. Sure, you would be okay without one another. Living life, achieving what you wanted to achieve. Brought down by the gloomy days but rising again. But together, those days were just so much less gloomy. The, what could only be described as innate, trust that you had formed in one another, was the invisible string tying you together in the gift that was your present. Falling and being in love with Yunho was like a warm day in the spring, a promise for new life, for blue skies and for a warm breeze caressing the blossoms of affection. It was like the starry night sky in the early summer, with you and him sitting on the rooftop of the apartment building where you lived, on an old bed sheet because you were yet to invest in a proper picnic blanket, but still the happiest people in the world.

As he closed the gap between you, running his fingers over your jawline before cupping your face to get a better angle, you closed your eyes and gave into the adoration that emanated from him. In the subtlest of gestures, in the sentimentality that translated into him understanding you better than how you understood yourself, he was every bit a man head over heels in love. And while either of you were yet to say the words, each action and inaction both screamed it. Perhaps it was something more than love. A proximity of the souls that was built in the quietude, in the shadows of an emotional flurry. In the hustle and bustle of common terminology, labels and anniversaries, a little world that could only come into existence with genuine intent and care became a reality. This cozy corner that housed only you and Yunho. 'Did you eat?', 'I will take care of you', 'I'm outside with medicine' were all manifestations of this unspoken devotion. And as he placed one final kiss on your rosy lips before starting up the car, you were entertained by the fascinating coincidence in the only term you could think of to describe this feeling being the exact same as your boyfriend's surname.

Flickering lights, neon signs and a revelation that the cycle could stop. Though you were on the verge of somnolence, barely resisting drowsiness settling on your eyelids like the snowflakes outside, you watched as Yunho masterfully spun the steering wheel while singing a melody which you recognised to be Standing Egg's Starry Night, one which you had made him repeat again and again as soon as you had heard it once. Upon noticing your gaze resting on him, he broke into a chuckle and fell quiet until the next red light.

"Mmm, why did you stop?" You asked and pouted, glancing at Yunho's arm as he pulled on the handbrake.

"Because I want to look at you as I sing it:

Here we are close to star

I want to stay with you forever like this

Here we are close to star

The endless starry sky and you and me..."

As he sang, in the air hung a promise. One which you did not need for him to say out loud to understand, for more often than not, the feeling itself was the true, and magical meaning.

433 notes · View notes

authorspirit · 3 months

Text

Thank you @miralure for the tag! :D

▬ Favorite Three Ships: My favorite tv show of all time is Hart of Dixie because I'm a very cheesy person so: Zoe x Wade, Lavon x AB (YEAH LET ME CRY ABOUT THAT OK) and Lavon x Lemon (because they're still made for each other). (OK but I have the same love for those Lavon ships that I have for Stiles Stilinski x Malia Tate in Teen Wolf).

▬ Last Movie: It's hm been a while. I'm not really a movie gal? Pretty sure last movie I watched in theaters was Barbie, on my own.

▬ Currently Reading: Beatrice Hyde-Clare Mysteries series. I'm looking for a specific edition at the moment but I should start reading book 3 soon!

▬ Craving: chocolate. 'cause I always crave that. And I also kinda want something salty. Salted caramel + chocolate nomnom.

▬ Relationship status: in a relationship (gotta have our anniversary restaurant date for the 7th year today by the way. At like, noon, 'cause we're cheap and like to just stay at home in the evening xD)

▬ Last Thing I Googled: The name in english of the Beatrice Hyde-Clare mysteries for this post xD

▬ Current Obsession: OK that's stupid but tbh it's just the sims 4 (especially my own sims). The day I go back to Ooblets or Coral Island is on the switch, you'll be sure they'll be my obsession.

I tag @pleasanttaleswithkaityb, @ruthplaysthesims, @dumplingtrait, @gooretrait, @hyesims, @betweensims, and anyone who wants to do it, you can say you're tagged by me and I'll edit the post later! :D If you've already done it, don't do it again, I'm just bad at keeping up sometimes with who has already done a tag game sorry ><

#tagged #as speaks #.txt

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athenasparrow · 1 year

Text

No. 20 - Old | Jily Micro March

Thank you for the prompt @jilymicrofics 😘

Summary: In which Euphemia isn't the only one in the family who can incite shenanigans : )

Read on AO3 | 1533 words

WhatsApp Chat

Private : Lily Evans, Kingsley Shaklebolt

Kingsley Shacklebolt : So how did it go?

And I need to know immediately bc not sure what to buy...

Ice cream to cheer you up?

A bottle of wine to drown your sorrows?

Boxing gloves to kick some ass?

Lily Evans : Can I choose all of them?

Kingsley Shacklebolt: That bad?

Lily Evans : And worse : (

You should be lucky you found a nice man.

They’re all gone.

Not a single good one left!

Two bottles of wine?

Kingsley Shacklebolt: I did snag a good one ; )

There are still a few out there Lils! We will find you one.

Two bottles? Easy peasy lemon squeezy

Lily Evans: Doubt it

Yes two, to fix my current state: stressed, depressed lemon zest

Or simply wallow in it.

Haven’t decided yet.

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WhatsApp Chat

Private: Lily Evans, Alice Longbottom

Alice Longbottom : Hi Darling!

I told him to wave to his godmother, but apparently pesky motor function isn’t happening yet.

Lily Evans: You don’t know how much you just brightened my day! Look at those chubby cheeks!

Don’t insult my godsons motor skills - he’s only three months old.

He’s got the best motor skills ever. Give him big kisses.

Alice Longbottom: Why does your day need brightening? Are you alright?

There’s a reason you’re his favourite.

Oh look, that sort of looks like a wave

Lily Evans : Nothing to worry about, just another bad date

King is coming over late to help me wade through the “grief”

He’s bringing lots of wine.

I’m fine really, this dating life is just getting quite old, you know?

I might just take a break from it all.

That’s totally a wave Xxxxxxx

Alice Longbottom: Oh you poor thing : (

That sounds amazing, I am jealous of you Lily!

Eh I feel that, but once the right one comes around it won’t feel so tedious, I promise x

Want to come over this weekend and see Neville?

Lily Evans: You better be right Al!

You know I do.

I’ll bring lunch : )

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WhatsApp Chat

Private: Petunia Dursley, Lily Evans

Petunia Dursley: <attachment>

Please choose a gift from my list for my birthday

Don’t use red wrapping paper, it’s hideous

Lily Evans : Red paper coming right up See you Saturday Tuney.

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WhatsApp Group Chat

Members: Kingsley Shacklebolt, Blake Rathborne, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin

Remus Lupin: Does anyone happen to have an extra wallet with their stuff from last night?

Blake Rathborne: Nope, nothing here sorry

Didn’t think you’d leave your wallet in your pocket Remus.

Gay clubs get a bit handsy

Sirius Black: Remus loves it when I get handsy with him ; )

Remus Lupin: That is irrelevant since it wasn’t, in fact, my wallet

James’ is missing.

Kingsley Shacklebolt: Well that makes more sense.

Straight men, honestly.

Sirius Black: LOL

Remus Lupin: ????

I’m going to assume nobody knows about it then??

I’ll email lost and found at the club on the off chances it turns up.

And break the news to James that he’ll have to cancel his credit cards.

Kingsley Shacklebolt: Posh bastard.

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WhatsApp Chat

Private: Sirius Black, Kingsley Shacklebolt

Kingsley Shacklebolt: Did you post it?

Sirius Black: Yup Did it this morning

Should arrive over the weekend

Can’t give Remus time to get suspicious

WhatsApp Group Chat

Members: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter

Sirius Black: Rise and shine sleepy heads

Good news Prongs, found your wallet

James Potter: After all that shit you gave me last night you have it?

Remus Lupin: That’s great. I’ll call the club when they open and tell them to ignore my email

Sirius Black: Found, not have

Club has posted it to you

Remus Lupin: A club we live fifteen minutes away from has posted us something?

James Potter: lol yeah, I’ll just go grab it now

Sirius Black: dunno too late I think

Said they’d posted it

James Potter: Okay fine

But with my wallet gone, you’re buying me lunch Padfoot

Sirius Black: I’ll be there in 10

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WhatsApp Chat

Private: Lily Evans, unknown

Lily Evans: Hello! Realise this may seem a bit random, but I think someone just accidentally mailed me your wallet by mistake?

I hope this is the right phone number, but if it’s not and you know a “James Potter” could you send through his contact details please? - Lily

Unknown: Oh, hello Lily! Yes, I’m James. So sorry about that not sure how it happened.

I can come by and pick it up?

A relief to know where it is.

Unless you’re not comfortable with me coming

I can meet you somewhere

Or feel free to leave it on a bench or something

Hmm, that sounded like a drug deal

*Unknown number changed to James Potter

Lily Evans: You can come by, it’s fine

I’m sure we can manage without the drug deal

This is me <maps.google.com/droppedpin>

James Potter: But what if I’m a serial killer???

I’ve always wanted to be part of an illicit drug drop

I’m pretty sure my mum would murder me though

But might be a rather exhilarating experience

I’m on my way

I am happy to meet on the street if you’re more comfortable!

Lily Evans: I’m pretty certain serial killers don’t announce themselves like that

And wouldn’t suggest public spaces for meetings

And lol, wouldn’t you be into killing men anyways?

Incase you didn’t know, I’m a woman,

Unless your sexuality has arisen from a deep-seeded hatred for women?

Exhilarating for a moment maybe, I’m sure the night spent in jail would bring the excitement right down.

Neighbours are moving today so just come on up.

Apartment 526

James Potter: What? I’m lost now

Lily Evans: What??

James Potter: Why would I be into killing men or hate women?

I’m in your lobby

I’m coming up

Lily Evans: Because of the sexual aspect of serial killers?

You know? Because you’re gay you would kill men???

James Potter: I think there’s been a misunderstanding here

I’m not gay

Hold on I’m on your floor

Is it okay if I come to your door?

Cut for eventual smut

Lily frowned at her phone and moved to her entrance, grabbing the package from the console and heaving the door open.

She glanced to right to see a a very fit man with ruffled curly hair, black jeans and bright hazel eyes that danced behind his square glasses.

A very gorgeous man who was apparently not gay.

“Hi” she called “I’m just over here”

He threw a lopsided grin at her and started making his way over.

“I’m Lily” she said extending her hand and smiling at him when he reached her door.

“James. As you already know” he said grinning ruefully.

“Not gay James” Lily corrected him, biting her lip as a laugh bubbled out of her.

“Yes. Why did you think that?” James said, his brow furrowed “I’ve never been told I give off a gay vibe”

“You don’t” Lily said “but…well…look” she extended the postmarked package his wallet had arrived in.

“What?” he said glancing down at it.

“Well, the return address is a gay club” she said laughing “I’m sorry I made assumptions, but”

“Oh yeah right, of course” James said laughing awkwardly “nope, definitely straight, just there with my mates”

“It’s a fun club” Lily agreed “my friend Kingsley loves it. Used to go there every weekend when he was single”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt?” James asked suddenly.

“Yeah, that’s him!” Lily said smiling “I think he was there this last weekend with his boyfriend. Did you meet him?”

“Yeah, I’m Sirius Black’s brother”

“Oh I have heard about you. I suppose I just didn’t put the dots together” Lily said smiling at him. God, he was fit .

A clap of thunder alerted Lily to the fact that the sky had suddenly decided to open and her sofa was about to get drenched.

“Shit” she cursed running to yank the window closed.

It was easier when a second pair of joined, helping her move the old window back to latch closed.

Lily felt her breath hitch as she registreed the hot press of his body against hers.

He seemed to realise he was flush against her.

“Sorry” he said hastily, stepping back to create distance between them.

Lily suddenly felt overwhelmingly hot even though the cool thunderstorm had blown in a draft.

Her eyes flicked over his soft lips where his tongue darted out nervously. Lily had the sudden urge to taste him. She pulled her gaze away to meet his own, only to notice it was darker than when they’d last locked eyes.

Fuck.

Lily wasn’t even aware she’d moved, but her mind came back into her body at the sizzling feel his lips left on hers.

He was delicious.

She fought the moan he pulled out of her, before giving in when his warm hand slipped under her shirt.

“Shit, you sound amazing” James murmured.

Lily lost herself in his lips until his hand traced a questioning circle around her thigh and she became aware enough of her surroundings that she realised they’d migrated to the couch.

As she pleaded with him to touch her, a faraway thought crossed her mind.

Perhaps dating wasn’t getting old after all.

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