#why must it be so difficult to cancel a flight

[affordablelamovers]

Plan A Smooth Long Distance Move with These Tips

“To know about long distance relocations, kindly read this article. You will get some helpful tips”.

Long-distance moves are difficult when compared to other kinds of moves. Apart from the anticipation of moving into a new city or state, you would also feel overwhelmed as you would be leaving your home.

So the first thing that you should do is hiring long distance movers Oxnard so that you could have your own sweet little time as you let the feelings sink in. It is not just the packing! The movers will help you deal with the assembling, disassembling, loading and unloading, settling down, and more. This makes things a lot easier. As you Google about the new neighborhood and its nearby entertainment centers, and hospitals, they would come and do all the hard work. But before they come, make sure you get rid of all the clutter you have. Why pay a huge sum for items that you haven’t used in the past year? It is not worth it. If you have rent a place in the new city, do you at all know the measurements? Does the study actually have room for the giant table? Also, what about your huge couch? These are some things that should concern you.

When you are moving to a place far away from your house, try to join groups and make sure you search if there are a few friends living there already through social media. As I said, you will only get time for this if you hire affordable movers Los Angeles. You will have peace of mind too.

Also, when you are moving to a new city, make sure you insure the precious items, such as the piano, Jacuzzi, pool table, etc. You must get your expensive furniture and lights insured too as accidents don’t come with a warning. Ask your insurance company to educate you about the options you have in hand.

Amidst all the ruckus, do not forget to make some amazing memories. Meet your friends and neighbors, throw a party, and have a gala time before it is time to go. Long-distance moves should be enjoyed too because a new place means a new perspective. If it is a new job, think about how it will change your life. If you are going for a degree, then also you will learn, grow and even have fun! It is always important to look at the positive side of the coin.

You should notify important parties about the address change. Cancel services and transfer utilities. These are some of the very important tasks to accomplish.

You should plan your drive and flight in advance so that there are no bumps at the last minute. If you have pets, you should plan their move too. Do all of these while your chosen long distance movers Bakersfield take care of the move.

It is very important that you move the important items like documents and heirlooms by yourself! It is not okay to ask the movers to move your important papers.

You should also schedule a deep cleaning service for your new house so that you can step into a squeaky clean one. It will help you give a fresh start. Sanitization is also important during these times.

Hope these tips will help you with your long-distance relocation. Read my next article to know more about affordable long distance movers Los Angeles.

Author Bio: Mia, a blogger on cheap long distance movers in LA, writes on long distance moves. To choose the best yet affordable long distance moving company Los Angeles, you must go through her articles.

#Affordable Movers Los Angeles #Long Distance Moving Company Los Angeles #Long Distance Movers Bakersfield #Long Distance Movers Los Angeles #Long Distance Movers Oxnard

[jcmarchi]

From ‘Open Skies' to 'Slot-Hoarding': The Turbulent World of Aviation Laws Explained - Technology Org

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/from-open-skies-to-slot-hoarding-the-turbulent-world-of-aviation-laws-explained-technology-org/

From ‘Open Skies' to 'Slot-Hoarding': The Turbulent World of Aviation Laws Explained - Technology Org

Despite national and state border closures during the pandemic, the global aviation market has been growing steadily since 1995, at nearly twice the rate of global GDP each year. 

A flying airplane. Image credit: Willy Wo via Unsplash, free license

Domestic aviation remains one of the most concentrated industries in Australia, with the Qantas Group and Virgin Australia accounting for 95 per cent of market share. 

The industry has also featured in recent headlines.  

You may have read about Australia’s Transport Minister’s decision to reject Qatar’s bid to secure more flights into some of the country’s biggest cities. Perhaps you have heard about the accusations of airlines ‘slot hoarding’. Or maybe you had a flight cancelled and are finding it difficult to claim compensation.  

Now the government is preparing to submit the Aviation White Paper, which will examine and address issues across the aviation sector. Dr Ian Douglas, honorary Senior Lecturer at UNSW’s School of Aviation, explains why some processes and aviation consumer laws in Australia are outdated, and what needs to be done to ensure sustainable and manageable growth for the industry.  

“It’s time to address these problems,” Dr Douglas says. “The regulations and consumer protections that were fit for purpose 20 years ago may not be fit for purpose now.” 

Aviation laws and the Chicago Convention 

The structure of international aviation was defined towards the end of World War II under the Chicago Convention.  

“Essentially, this convention says that countries control the airspace over the respective landmass, and each territory can make decisions about who comes and goes,” Dr Douglas says.  

The framework developed by the Chicago Convention disallows international commercial flights unless expressly permitted – so, in order for an airline to fly internationally, there must be a government-level agreement to permit it. 

Lots of aviation law and regulation around market access in Australia has remained unchanged since it was first brought into effect.  

“Many of the international treaties have been in place for ages. Some remain, even though the capacity allocations are no longer used, while others limit growth on routes where market demand has changed,” Dr Douglas says.  

“A number of countries have moved towards ‘open skies’ arrangements to free up market access and enhance competition. But Australia has very few open skies treaties, and there is no regular process in place to ensure that capacity leads market demand. It’s often only when an airline approaches its government and says, ‘I want to change something’ that capacity negotiations resume, and even then it can take months or years to change.” 

What is slot hoarding? 

While the aviation market has been steadily increasing in Australia, airports aren’t being built at the same rate. “And that means that we’ve got increasing congestion,” Dr Douglas says.  

“Some years back, the International Air Transport Association created a set of rules that graded airports as Level 1, 2 or 3, depending on the level of congestion. These rules provide an internationally recognised structure for managing access ‘slots’ where an airport is so congested that we need to restrict who can fly there.” 

Both Sydney and Melbourne airports are listed as Level 3 airports, with a restricted number of slots available each day.  

Once an airline secures a slot during a scheduling season, they are granted ‘grandfather rights’ to retain the same slots year-on-year, as long as they fly at least 80 per cent of the flights scheduled. “So you could cancel one flight in five on a Tuesday afternoon at 3pm that flies from Sydney to Melbourne and still retain the slot next year. It costs you nothing to have the slot, and you block out potential competitors from entering the market,” Dr Douglas says. 

Both Qantas and Virgin have been accused of hoarding these slots and restricting competitors from expanding on routes between congested Australian airports.  

“Qantas has two thirds of the market and is the dominant carrier on the Sydney-to-Melbourne route,” Dr Douglas says. “Rex is slowly squeezing in a few flights a day, but it’s not providing strong competition. And the only other player that could try is Bonza, and they’ve effectively said, ‘Sydney’s too hard, we can’t get any slots there’ and have focused on regional leisure routes. 

“If the slots are held so that a new entrant doesn’t join the route, and the airlines are selectively limiting the amount of flying they do, the consequence is that airfares are more expensive, because less capacity means higher price.” 

Open skies agreements 

As Dr Douglas explains, he believes the adoption of a broader ‘open skies’ policy could provide answers to some of the current problems, at least within the international aviation industry. 

An open-skies agreement is a deal between two or more nations that allows for unlimited commercial services, without the need for the explicit government-level approval that was written into the Chicago Convention. The market determines the capacity. Nations can still intervene, but intervention is usually on safety and security grounds. 

“This whole 80-year-old structure is really not fit for purpose anymore. What we should be doing is saying as long as airlines meet the safety requirements, we should let the market determine who flies where.” 

Being so far from major international population centers, there has been concern that an open skies agreement would leave Australia without aviation service, but Dr Douglas assures that this wouldn’t be the case.

“Even if Qantas said we’re stopping flying internationally, the market is big enough and wealthy enough that a range of international airlines will still come here to serve it. We see this already for markets like Malaysia that are not served by any Australian airline, but have multiple flights daily connecting Australian cities with Kuala Lumpur.” 

A need for aviation-specific compensation 

Slot hoarding isn’t the only criticism facing the aviation industry right now.  

While individual airlines offer varying levels of compensation, and Australian consumer laws apply at a national level, there are no aviation-specific regulations enforcing a minimum payment or timeframe for compensation after cancellations, significant delays or denied boardings. 

Those who are calling for a compensation scheme believe the airline consumer regulations in Australia are “lagging behind the rest of the world”. 

“In Europe, if an airline cancels your flight within two weeks of departure, it is required by law to compensate the passenger,” Dr Douglas says. 

“The airline is then responsible for getting them to where they were going, or to refund the customer in full. It is an obligation for the airline to provide accommodation, meals and anything else that customers need until they arrive at their destination.” 

Dr Douglas believes that aviation consumer laws instigated in Canada could work well in Australia.  

“Canadian laws compensate for inconvenience and require airlines to get the passenger where they’re destined within nine hours, either on the original airline or on one of its partner carriers. In a worst case, if there isn’t a flight available, they must get the customer there within 48 hours, even if it involves transferring the passenger to another airport or buying a new ticket on another airline.” 

While there are a series of compensations in Australian airlines, such as a meal voucher after a three-hour delay, or a hotel room if you are not in your home city, unlike the EU and Canadian compensation schemes, Australia has no consistent, clear laws which apply to all airlines.  

Time to catch up 

As the government prepares to develop the Aviation White Paper next year, organisations and agencies across the country have been consulted on key issues facing the aviation industry.  

Dr Douglas believes that now is a good time to catch up and put the consumer first.  

“We are behind aviation consumer law in other similar countries. We are behind on open skies agreements. And we need to look at the legislation around Sydney Airport, alongside the broader industrywide risk of slot hoarding crowding out competition.  

“The treaties and laws surrounding those three important issues may have been fit for purpose 20 years ago but are not necessarily fit for purpose now. The upcoming white paper needs to address international market liberalisation, Sydney Airport legislation and – perhaps most importantly – consumer protection.” 

Source: UNSW

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#accounting #air #Airport #Australia #aviation #Canada #change #cities #deal #Delay #eu #Europe #Explained #Featured #flight #framework #Full #Global #Government #growth #Industries #Industry #issues #it #law #LESS #limiting #Link #One #Other

[studynotesexpert]

#benefitsofStudyAbroadInsurance #StudyAbroadInsurance

[schizo2709]

In addition to my last post about the Mars Concert 2021 documentary (Mango TV) I wanted to post a couple of gifs I made myself this time but even though I love gifs and how they capture certain moments in all their glorious detail and you can just stare at this one glorious moment as long as you please, in this particular case I wish I could just post video clips instead (which I won’t because Mango TV and copyright and better safe than sorry), mainly because hearing what is actually said, how it is said, the tone of voice, would make it so much better, which is why I ended up making gifs for only two scenes.

The first set just shows the stage when the flower got to see it in reality for the first time prior to the concert. He sounded so happy and impressed, which yeah, understandable. Must be overwhelming to see this in reality.

💖🌺💖🌺💖

His voice actually makes all the difference in the scene below. The gifs alone don’t really give you an idea of the emotional impact of the scene. It’s after the concert on day 2 when he’d just performed Flower in a Small Town for the first time.

When I sang Flower in a Small Town I actually...I almost cried. But I didn't want to cry. I feel that I shouldn't be so...sad.

The way he pauses for a split second and then says...”sad”.

(Yes, eng subs! All credit to Hua Chenyu English Subs!)

💗🌸💗🌸💗

Last but not least, I thought I might as well post the two messages of Martians they included in the documentary that were posted on Weibo when it became clear that due to new pandemic prevention measures just a day before the first concert one third or even half the fans who wanted to attend the concert all of a sudden weren’t allowed to travel at all or to enter the concert grounds.

Again, thanks to Hua Chenyu English Subs!

🔥🔥🔥

Hua Chenyu, big bro. Don't worry. Although my flight to Haikou was cancelled just before I was about to depart from Hangzhou, and suddenly learned that I couldn't attend the concert, I know that you've prepared a wonderful, wonderful Mars home. I've seen it and received it all. You have to rest well and have a great time with the Martians who are there. Although many Martians couldn't come today, many more travelled thousands of miles to go to your concert. You have to know that those who arrived at the scene are just a tiny, tiny part of the Martians who want to go to your concert. Even if we can't go to your concert, we can still watch the beautiful picture descriptions and videos sent by Martians at the scene. Those who can't attend can meet up and watch the concert together. We will surely receive everything that you've created for us in the warm blooming spring.

🔥🔥🔥

Want to post on the Super Topic. I still haven't decided what to say. I can't talk to you directly, let's talk online, Hua Chenyu. From the time the Mars Concert was announced officially it's been magical. Two years, an amusement park, standing tickets, new songs, and all kinds of activities. You've mentioned it countless times with a little pride that this is a really awesome concert, it's a near perfect concert according to your ideal! I've also bragged about it to people around me: Look, big bro made the whole thing for us! Look, the stage from Mars! Look, we have super awesome Ms. Fires! As the concert was drawing close, my heart has been on a rollercoaster these two days. The sudden eruption of the pandemic in Shanghai shocked everyone. After my colleague told me about it yesterday and when I called the hospital asking about the RNA tests, my voice shook. I know from the depth of my heart that I can't blame anyone, and I can't even remotely blame you. Everything is so difficult. But it's not possible that we will complain.But you should know that we are just a little sad and a little unsatisfied that we can't hear you say "Welcome Home", can't enjoy our amusement park with you. But I still know that there is still a place where the spring is warm and the flowers are blooming.

🔥🔥🔥

Bonus gif, just because.

#hua chenyu #华晨宇 #華晨宇

[windvexer]

More Effective Spellwork

I write because I love to share ❧ My beliefs are not universal, universally good, or universally helpful ❧ This post is full of my personal beliefs, practices, and UPG ❧ Take from it what you will and leave the rest behind ☙ I mean a ton of UPG, and this is really NOT going to resonate with everyone. Seriously please don't be mad at me.

I know what you want. You want to cast spells and get results. Me too, so let's get at it:

There are two brothers named Conjure and Banish, and when they work together, they are more powerful than ten men.

Your life is probably already at capacity. Nature abhors a vacuum, as they say. You're surrounded by vibrations. If you want to call in a new vibration (like love, prosperity, or peace), where will it fit in? What if you have a directly opposed vibration (debt) that will cancel out your desired outcome (emergency fund)?

When you banish something, that vacuum is created. The world will readjust to fill it. You have a hole in your life the shape of a shitty ex-friend who needs to permanently get gone. The world around you wants to fill in that hole, and it's going to take the path of least resistance. What is the perfect size and shape to fill that hole? ...That exact same friend. Or someone just like them. Boo, we don't want that. That would suck.

Banish debt, then conjure wealth.

Banish shitty ex-friend, then conjure blessed and wonderful friends.

Banish habit, conjure new helpful habit.

UPG: Do not combine the banishment and conjuring into a single spell. I can't turn left and right at the same time. I can't step inside and step outside at the same time. Banishing and conjuring are mutually exclusive. Two spells, twice the power, one to open space and one to fill it with your desired reality.

In the Forest of Wishes there are three wells, and for your wish to come true you must drink of all three: the first well is named Divinity, the second is named Your Will, and the third is named Physical Vessel.

Does only the physical exist, mass, molecules, density, and nothing else? No, there is also life, spirit, and will. Is physicality imbued with spirit and will all that exists? No, there is also divinity.

So much easier it is it is to birth new realities which are infused with all three!

Petition gods (which you have a relationship with, or whom are cool being petitioned by strangers), your higher/divine self, or perhaps even the universe itself through fervent prayer. Prayer is not a form of worship here; it is a form of communication. Have a conversation, even if it feels one-way. Explain your needs. Explain what you want to have happen and not happen. Ask for help. Ask for the way to be cleared and the roads to be open.

The flight plan has been submitted to the universe; now, time to fuel the airplane. Pay spirits, invoke powers, and/or engage your intense willpower during the spell process. Infuse, direct, and channel energies into your spell.

It is difficult for the astral to become physical. There is a glass veil around the world, and magic scrabbles its feet on the smooth surface seeking a foothold. Puncture this veil and allow your magic to boldly step into the physical world - by devoting a physical object to be its earthly body.

This physical object may be the spell jar, dollie, or amulet kept for a long time. The object may be a paper sigil, candle, or incense, burned down into its composite parts. It may be a leaf you then drop on the sidewalk, or a cup of tea you drink. It may be anything, as long as it is physical.

(I know many people can successfully manifest by just doing pure energy work or without any physical components, etc. But not everyone can just visualize and have successful manifestations, sometimes practitioners [like me!] do need extra steps.)

A witch had many wishes to make, but the trip to the Forest of Wishes was long, and building camp there was tiring. Conjure said, "why not build a house there?" Banish said, "yes, then each journey will be twice as easy, and take half as long."

Altars (both physical and digital, though for reasons above I prefer physical altars when possible) are not just for gods or general spellwork.

An altar can be built for a specific purpose, and be taken down when that purpose is achieved.

Such specific purposes might include a prosperity altar to manage finances, a work altar to deal with your annoying coworkers, a peace and love altar to bring sweetness and calm into your life, etc.

The moment you consecrate the altar to the purpose of "managing such-and-such situation," it becomes like a little portal linking you to those energies. Another way of thinking of it is that the altar itself becomes the same as that situation, just as a dollie becomes the same as the person it represents. What happens to the dollie happens to the person; what happens to the altar happens to the situation.

This cuts down on steps within practical spellwork. The targeting is mostly done for you, for example; we know where the spell is going because the altar is already connected to it. The altar accumulates energies you build up, making it easier and easier for you to access the same energies every time you work through it.

Simple acts of magic become much easier, as literally dusting the altar dusts off the situation - lighting a candle on the altar, even if it is uncharged, gives energy to all your intents surrounding the situation.

The altar becomes a command center for that situation, allowing you to engage with it more quickly and easily than casting independent spells one after the other.

When the situation has been modified to satisfaction, the altar can be taken down and done away with.

#witchblr #witchcraft 201 #traditional witchcraft #fairy faith #theory #witchcraft theory #witches of tumblr #manifestation #more effective spellwork #theory masterpost

[cobaincreates]

the fuck is a touron? pt. 2

warnings: language, mention of drugs & alcohol, smut (wrap it you're smart), very brief oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 9k+

part one is here! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it! also remember when i said this has been sitting for a couple months?? welp, it’s been longer than that...oops. but it's all yours now!!! :)

taglist is always open. have a lovely weekend! photo cred

— — —

3 weeks earlier

a loud blare jolted you awake.

“what the fuck?”

you scrambled to stop the noise, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest. your head knocked into something hard as you twisted and tried to assemble your brain.

a clatter of what sounded like several bottles came from your right. the sound still rang out into the room—which was where exactly?

as you got to your hands and knees and shuffled against what felt like carpet, you remembered vaguely that you’d gone out last night. the carpet and dark room didn’t tell you much else. but the trilling alarm was enough to set you into a search to find that out.

“shut that off!” a voice yelled from behind you.

your hand knocked into more bottles and you grappled for one, feeling the familiar shape of a glass beer bottle. someone groaned in front of you then a blinding light pierced across your eyes. you sucked in a breath, dropping the bottle and covering your eyes.

what, were you a vampire? you peeked past your fingers to a parted curtain letting in a sliver of sunlight. you saw a little more of where you’d been, the light trail full of bottles and some sprawled legs and arms.

the alarm cut off suddenly. soft snores and labored breaths filled the silence now, along with a pounding in your ears so intense, you would’ve thought you were still hearing the alarm. a slow, gradual ache formed in the center of your forehead.

you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the light. a sparkling stiletto caught your attention, but it wasn’t on a foot. you looked around the room and spotted its twin near the back of a couch. crawling over, you found liza laying on her back with her hair messily splayed around her.

she was yawning while her phone lit up her face in a soft glow. when your eyes met, she whispered, “hey.”

you faintly remembered her setting an alarm on her phone somewhere in between jell-o shots and body shots. or was it after the jäger bombs?

you let out an oomf as you collapsed beside her on your stomach. your head didn’t let up the pounding. you made a noise, your words muffled against the stale-smelling carpet.

“what?” liza said, not having heard any coherent words.

you turned your head, the carpet scratching your cheek. “i said, nurse me back to health, please.”

“i told you not to do those lines,” she said, shaking her head.

“what?” you said a little too loudly, earning a few shh!s in return.

“i’m kidding,” liza laughed.

you grimaced, mostly at her but also at the hair in your mouth. you reached up to remove it and sat up while liza looked at her phone.

“what time is it?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder around the room.

no one else had moved from liza’s wake-up alarm. your vision was clearer now and you took in the trashed room. bottles lay everywhere, a few staining the carpet in dark puddles. a lamp was on the floor, its shade across the room over someone’s head. it was warm considering the blackout curtains keeping the morning sun out and you couldn’t imagine sleeping in here any longer.

your head pounded again as liza said, “noon.”

“can we go? i might throw up from how hot it is in here.” you pulled at your dress, wanting nothing more than to get under some cold water.

liza sat up and looked around, dropping her phone into her lap. “i need my other shoe.”

“it’s over here,” you said and crawled to retrieve it for her.

she put it on, her dress riding up her thighs before she stood and pulled it back down. you took her offered hand so she could help you up. your heels sank into the carpet and you looked down, finding a soggy spot where beer had seeped in. you frowned and grabbed ahold of liza’s arm to find your way out.

your small crossbody clutch was resting on the couch cushion and you reached for it over a girl’s sleeping form, careful not to wake her. she made a small noise and you snatched it quickly, feeling the weight of your phone inside.

liza ordered an uber to bring you back to campus. it was fifteen minutes away and you panicked for a brief moment from not knowing where the hell you were. last night was a whole blur apart from arriving and getting into the swing of things. you remember dancing and drinking and having fun with liza and a few other friends. it wasn’t usual for you to sleep at random people’s houses after parties, but last night must have been a little more eventful than others.

you let out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you sank into the back of the uber driver’s car. luckily, you didn’t get someone hopped up on coffee or blasting music. it was quiet and calm, enough so that you closed your eyes.

speaking of coffee, you could really use one. and food. and a shower. had you really slept on that nasty carpet last night? you shuddered and opened your eyes.

fishing out your phone from your clutch, you saw a few notifications from last night and the past few hours. you ignored them for now and unlocked your phone with the goal of texting one of your friends who worked at the diner in town and begging him to have your usual ready when you got there. it was all you could think about as your stomach rumbled.

but when you unlocked your phone, your eyebrows drew together. your screen opened to an internet tab, a little plane logo at the top corner.

“why the fuck did i buy a ticket to the outer banks?” you blurted to no one in particular. well, maybe to your friend beside you, who lived in the outer banks.

liza lolled her head toward you on the back of the seat, not at all looking as concerned as you felt. “you’re visiting, remember? i talked you into buying it last night.”

“why?” your head seemed to throb even worse.

you couldn’t go to the outer banks. you didn’t have the money for it and the ticket on your internet browser said you’d even bought a round trip one. god, why had you done that? you were saving up for the summer. you were saving up to see so much more than the outer banks. as much as you loved liza, and you knew she’d love to have you there, you would be wasting a weekend. how were you going to tell your boss that you needed off at such short notice?

liza shrugged beside you. “because my dad will be gone for a whole weekend and i’m throwing the biggest party ever and you love me and you promised to dance to ‘back that ass up’ with me there.”

“oh my god,” you groaned and dropped your phone into your lap. you rubbed your pulsing temples. “i can’t go, liza. i really need the money.”

“hence why you have a job—said job will pay that back in a week. you’re fine,” she waved her hand and turned back to the window.

“i need to work that weekend,” you argued. just thinking about asking for it off had your skin crawling.

“you can take time off. you never do.” liza shrugged, looking at you again. her face softened when she noticed how distraught you were over it. “look, if you really don’t want to, then just cancel it. it’s okay if you don’t come.”

your fingers came away from your head as you saw that she was being genuine. she may have joked around with you a lot, but she meant it when she said that.

friday

getting time off wasn’t easy. your boss acted like the ultimate villain in a boss level from a video game, having you go through all of these obstacles just to get three days off. you understood it, you were short-staffed anyways and it was hard, but you couldn’t help feeling as though they were a little harsh on you. it was always a fight to get time off, even when you showed up every day, on time, and did your work without complaint.

right after you talked to your boss, feeling the ultimate amount of shame over requesting three days, you searched high and low for someone to cover your shift. turns out, it wasn’t all that difficult to begin with since one of your co-workers—who just had a baby and was still a full-time student—told you they’d appreciate the extra hours. you felt instantly better afterward until your boss asked you to fill out three separate sheets for the time off. no, you couldn’t just write the three days on one sheet. it had to be three. separate. sheets.

it was completely ridiculous and uncalled for. you fumed for a while, pressing way too hard on your pen as you filled them out. once you set them on their desk, all filled out properly, you reminded yourself you could quit soon. just a few more months of the semester and you’d be gone.

the next day when you came in, your boss had allegedly lost those request papers. and funnily enough, they allowed you to put the weekend dates on one paper this time. you’d stared at them for a whole three minutes, paper in your hand and tongue between your teeth with angry words just dying to get out. you can quit soon. you can quit soon.

the weeks dragged by before the day finally arrived and you left for your flight. it was only when you got off the plane that the hours started to fly by. it was colder this time around, which you didn’t mind, even on the breezy ferry ride. you were looking forward to campfires and cozy sweaters.

you hopped off the ferry around noon and right into liza’s waiting arms at the dock. she was overjoyed about you visiting and you knew all the trouble with work was worth it just to get away for a little. you were young, there was no shame in a little time off, and liza was right—you’d already earned the money back for the ticket.

liza’s dad was bustling around their house when you arrived, packing like a crazy person on a time crunch. he threw a hello at you as he shuffled past with an armful of socks and possibly underwear, which had you lifting an eyebrow at liza. she shoved your arm and took your bag into the guest bedroom.

“where’s your dad running off to? can i go?” you teased, dropping your backpack onto the light green comforter. the white walls seemed brighter this time, but you accounted it for the new sheer curtains over the windows facing the back of the house.

“he’s going on a business trip. and no, you can’t. his girlfriend is going with him.” liza left your bag near the dresser and hopped on the bed, the comforter sighing under her weight.

“girlfriend? aw, man.” you frowned dramatically and lay on your stomach beside her. “do we like this girlfriend?”

“she’s very...” her left eye squinted as she thought. “eccentric. like, i don’t know how to take it. he seems happy though.”

“like, weird eccentric or crazy eccentric?”

“i don’t know. i haven’t breached the abortion topic with her yet. that could be very telling, don’t you think?” a playful smile hinted at her lips.

“totally telling,” you agreed.

minutes later, you were waving liza’s dad off as he pulled out of the driveway, liza standing a few steps in front of you. once he was gone and out of sight down the drive, liza turned back to you with a flourish and a cheshire grin spread on her face. you laughed as she pushed you into the house and began jumping excitedly. music started playing somewhere in between the jumping, which promptly turned to dancing in the kitchen. having a whole house to yourselves was always a thrilling thing.

it wasn’t long after that that liza told you to get ready for a party at the boneyard, as she called it. you had no idea whether to take that literally or just go along with it and be surprised. you went with the latter as you changed out of your airport clothes.

as you were heading that way, you thought about that one fling you had the last time you were here. what was his name? something rich, with a t. tom? trenton? no, no, something obscure. topper. god, you nearly forgot about him, but now that you were visiting again, you wondered if he was around. in the middle of the semester seemed like your luck would be out.

liza was slowing the car as you thought to text topper, just to see if he was here. you hadn’t talked since that summer—what was it? seven months ago? you hadn’t felt the need to keep in touch. didn’t he say to shoot him a text when you were in town again? you supposed there was no harm in doing so. what could be the worst thing to happen? maybe he wouldn’t be in town, but you wouldn’t be all that bummed about not having a hookup. you weren’t as ravenous as you were in the summer.

“are you getting out?”

your head turned and you found liza standing with the door open, her keys dangling from her hand. you hadn’t noticed that the car had parked or that you’d arrived at wherever the boneyard was. the beach was right in front of you, just over a small crest in the sand. you could smell it slipping into the car from where liza held the door propped open.

you opened your own door and hopped out, the gravel crunching under your shoes. you were glad you opted for a sweater with the early spring wind from the water as it blew over your shoulders and tangled into your hair.

a handful of people were already on the beach, stripped driftwood scattered around. most used them as seats while there was a fire already going and drinks in their hands. you couldn’t help but smile at the sight, a giddiness filling your chest. this was exactly what you needed and the perfect setting for it.

liza pulled you into a group with some familiar faces that you had met the last time around. small talk was immediately flowing and you couldn’t care less for it, but you welcomed it anyways. liza was quick to guide you to the next group and the next before you finally got comfortable with a drink in hand. you sipped it steadily and ditched your shoes with liza’s, sticking them under a piece of driftwood behind where you stood. one of liza’s friends was asking you about your degree, something along the lines of why you had chosen it. you couldn’t comprehend it fully as your eyes drifted around the sand where people stood in small groups and larger ones.

standing near an overturned lifeguard post that was sure to be rotting away was none other than topper. he was facing away from you, but you had no doubt in your mind that it was him. his hair was blonder than it was when you met, funnily enough in the colder months. he wore a sweatshirt (blue or dark green, you couldn’t tell) paired with shorts and (surprisingly) sneakers.

you turned back to liza’s friend, giving them a somewhat vague but good answer. you then excused yourself and split from the group to head in topper’s direction. you stopped just outside of his larger group and crossed your arms, holding on to your beer by the neck loosely. it took a minute or two for topper to notice you, obviously feeling a presence behind him and doing a double-take. you already had a smirk on your face.

“holy shit, hi.” he blinked rapidly, turning away from his friends.

“hi,” you laughed. both of you went in for a hug at the same time. topper pressed your waist firmly to his while you hugged him around his shoulders.

“it’s good to see you,” you said.

“yeah, you too.” there was surprise in his voice and features as if he never thought he would see you again. your hand slipped down his arm as you pulled away before you took a step back, your hands resting at your sides.

“how have—“

“hey! the touron’s back!” a voice over his shoulder shouted.

you looked in its direction, finding a menacing smirk on an all too familiar face. you couldn’t remember his name as he sipped arrogantly on a beer, perched on the rotting lifeguard’s post.

you found your own sweet smile and raised your free hand to flip him off, which only egged him on more as his laughter filtered out. you were instantly annoyed, although you didn’t show it as he had brought unwanted attention to you and topper. you were sure most of the people in this larger group had been on topper’s deck that day in the summer.

topper looked at a loss for words when you turned back to him, his eyes still on you. you were glad he wasn’t laughing at his friend’s comment.

“can i get you another drink?” he gestured to the bottle between your fingers and you glanced down, seeing that it was a sip away from empty.

you gave him a nod as you said, “sure.”

the sun was setting by the time you got a refill, the glass cold against your palm, and wandered off with topper toward the water. conversation flowed as you caught up, shrugging as you told him all you had been doing was working and studying. you were lucky if you got to go out and have fun once in a while. topper expressed the same, talking animatedly about college and visiting home for the weekend to see his friends.

you wondered what he was like at college, if he spent most of his quieter hours in the library reading articles or if he was the type of friend to take up guard in the kitchen at parties. it was easy to imagine him in those situations since you hardly knew him. his smirking friend certainly didn’t seem the type.

you flicked some wet sand into the water, imagining the waves bringing it back to settle at your feet. topper stood beside you, the wind tousling his locks. you had just mentioned how your mother had bought a new coffee machine and how your dad canceled it because there was no point in having two. your mother just figured it would be easier having two so no one had to wait on the single-cup brewing system. it made you laugh and roll your eyes when you heard about it over the phone. topper had been smiling the whole time as he listened, his head inclined like you were whispering.

a rush of heat had slithered down between your thighs when you caught his eyes a couple times. he was just watching you as you spoke and you couldn’t help but smile flirtatiously, wondering if he was thinking what you were thinking.

how you were imagining last summer and the feel of his hands on your skin. you wished you’d gotten to know more of him; if he had any scars or little beauty marks that you didn’t notice the first time. it was easy to imagine it, but you had the burning curiosity to see for yourself.

you needed to take a break, to get a gulp of air before you drowned in the thought and jumped his bones right here and now.

“i should go find liza,” you said abruptly even though no one had been speaking. “i’ll see you around?”

topper nodded without a word and you caught a glimpse of confusion on his face, but you walked away. you let out a deep breath as you felt the wet sand turn dry under your feet. the sky was an inky pink behind you, windshields on cars reflecting it back.

you wrapped an arm around liza when you found her and she smiled knowingly. you didn’t have to ask if she’d seen you with topper, it was quite obvious in such an open area.

topper took up his place with the group you took him away from, but this time he was facing your way. you closed your lips around your bottle, staring back at him as he did the same thing. a shiver went up your legs, goosebumps exposing to the crisp air around you. you had to look away before you walked over there and kissed the hell out of him. your heart was behaving rather poorly now.

but could you help it? every time he looked at you as the sky grew darker and the bonfire grew larger, every obscene image possible took shelter behind your eyes. your mouth dried out so many times that you eventually had to get another drink and another. topper wasn’t making it easy and you started digging holes with your feet just to stay put.

you wouldn’t go to him, you made that very clear to yourself. if topper wanted you, then he’d have to make the first move. stubborn as it was maybe, but you’d torture him if you had to like he was torturing you now with all of these looks under his lashes. christ.

“my god,” liza said into your ear as she stood on the driftwood behind you, arms around your neck. “you’d think topper was a starving man.”

“shut up,” you laughed and looked at a fallen log in the fire pit.

“i’m serious. you guys have been undressing each other for an hour and a half now. just go over there and make out with him.”

you smiled into your drink, keeping your eyes far away from topper, or else you might actually do just that.

“there’s hardly any pda going on as it is, we need entertainment,” liza sighed.

“there’s your entertainment,” you nodded your head toward a rowdy group of young high schoolers shouting at each other. three of them looked angry as all hell and there was a bit of shoving before one of the older college boys broke it apart.

“that was short-lived,” liza frowned as she hopped down from the driftwood.

“you want another drink?” you asked her as she finished off her last one.

“yes, please!” she beamed as you took her bottle and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. you headed for the stocked cooler and grabbed two beers. as you stood, topper was making his way over.

“you have any plans after this?” he asked without much preamble.

you smiled, pulling the tops off and taking a sip from your own, eyeing him as you did. that flicker of heat made its way back between your thighs, warming you all over. you couldn’t deny the suggestion in his question excited you and you were giving yourself a mental pat on the back for being patient.

“nope, i’m all yours.”

topper smiled slowly, his eyes flicking to your lips as you licked them. okay, maybe jumping his bones here and now wasn’t a terrible idea. but you needed to string this out, you wanted it to last—whatever it was.

“i don’t want to leave yet though. i’ll come find you?” it implied that you’d make him wait longer than you really would, but it was satisfying to see him practically drool at the thought of what was to come.

liza was giddy when you went back over, either for the beer or when you told her that you’d be going off with topper for a little. she smirked, knowing exactly what for, but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and not without you.

you didn’t make topper wait long. when you were ready, another beer in and a relieved bladder, you touched topper’s elbow as he talked with his friends closer to the cooler. the ice was partly melted, but there were still plenty of drinks left. the fire was feeding off sweltering heat, and with the cold wind, it was perfect.

“hey, you ready?” you asked when topper turned to you.

you weren’t sure exactly what topper had in mind when he had asked you if you were busy for the rest of the night, but not having a clue thrilled you a little.

“yeah,” he nodded and took the last sip from his beer. his slid his hand up, capturing yours before tugging you along toward the parked cars. hardly anyone was over there. you could faintly hear voices and sounds from inside a few cars, some windows cracked. your fingertips warmed as your heart beat, pushing blood to every corner.

topper’s jeep came in sight and you tried to remember the inside. was there enough room for both of you in the back seat? or maybe you’d share one of the front ones. it didn’t matter to you, as long as he put his lips to use.

your back met the side of the jeep as topper leaned his hands on the window, caging you in. you were quick to close the space between you, either the beer taking the reins or your lack of patience from the past few hours of being here and having a staring contest with him. your breaths mingled and your hands grabbed fistfuls of his sweatshirt to pull him closer. the familiar tingles spread between your thighs and you wasted no time in showing him how impatient you were.

“i don’t think either of us is fit enough to drive, topper,” you breathed when you had the chance.

there was no way you could drive with everything you drank. topper tasted like the beer too, but you weren’t sure if he was fit enough to drive either. you didn’t want to chance it, nor could you wait that long.

“what do you want to do?” he asked against the skin of your neck, his nose skimming up the side. he pressed a few kisses, getting closer to your jaw.

you tilted your head back against the door and sighed, closing your eyes momentarily then opening them to find a few stars winking at you. there were so many once you focused on them. topper interrupted your gaze, pulling you by the back of your head to his lips. he kissed you as if you were his last meal, his tongue licking into your mouth. you moaned, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair. you remembered him being this much of a good kisser.

“let’s find a spot on the beach,” you suggested, only getting a kiss on the corner of his mouth before he pulled away.

his eyes were blown wide, his hair ruffled. if you looked hard enough, his cheeks were sure to be flushed, both from alcohol and excitement.

“seriously?” he asked, his hand stilling on the back of your head.

you laughed and nodded, brushing a lock of his hair. “yeah, why not?”

a cold wind blew, tossing your hair into your eyes. topper caught it and pushed it back to its spot behind your ear.

“i think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he joked.

you grinned and slid your hands down his chest. “do you have a towel?”

topper had to pick his jaw up off the gravel before he finally moved away from you and opened his jeep. he ruffled around in the back then finally pulled out a blanket.

“very resourceful,” you commented as he closed the door.

“never know when you might need it,” he said as he threw it around you, shielding your bare legs from the wind. he turned again to the jeep and bent over the driver’s seat to get something. you saw it was a condom when he turned back and closed the door.

“also resourceful.”

he laughed then took your hand back in his. you headed back toward the beach but in the opposite direction of where the bonfire was. it was quieter the further you got, nothing but the waves coming into the shore. it was darker too; all the more private.

topper took the blanket from you and settled it down. you took a seat as he fixed a corner, swiping sand that had gotten on to it. once he sat beside you, he pulled you back against his lips.

you knelt up and scooted closer, placing your hands on his shoulders for leverage as you swung a leg over his waist. you sat in his lap and hummed as you felt him against your thigh. he squeezed you closer in response.

“i’ve never fucked someone on a beach before,” you admitted as you slipped your hands under his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath, pushing them up.

“i’ve never fucked anyone outside before.”

“what?” you pulled away to look down at him, your hands freezing on his chest. he was breathing deeply and you swore you felt the patter of his heart against your fingertips. “really?”

“yeah,” he shrugged and glanced over your shoulder toward the water. “just never had the chance to try.”

“what do you mean? you live on an island.” you let his clothes fall back down, stopping above his belly button. “i’ve been here twice and i’ve seen at least twenty ideal places that would be perfect for it.”

“i don’t know, i never asked anyone and no one asked me.” he shrugged again and you knew you were looking way too into this, but it seemed impossible that he hadn’t done this at least once before. you knew that if you lived here, you would’ve done it countless times.

your hands slid back up. “well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

you pulled topper back to your lips, tongues meeting. his hands rubbed along your back and you couldn’t help but arch into him as he slipped them beneath your sweater. his hands were so warm that it felt as if he set fire to your skin. you moaned and sunk your teeth into his lip briefly. a shiver wrecked your body just as topper’s hands came around to your front, sliding up to your breasts. you felt your nipples peek at the contact and topper made it even worse when his thumbs brushed over them.

“christ, it’s cold,” you mumbled as another shiver came and went.

“mhmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure that’s what it is.”

you laughed and wanted to swat at him. instead, you swallowed that little bit of nerves edging close to the surface and reached a hand to his lap. you watched as topper’s lips parted as your hand squeezed him over his shorts. the fabric was soft as topper grew harder. you relished in his expression, the way his eyebrows were drawn together, and how his jaw flinched when he closed his mouth.

topper’s hands fell away as you stood. he looked ready to pull you back down until he realized what you were doing and watched closely as you pulled your shorts and underwear down together. you kicked them aside and shivered as another wind blew.

sitting over topper again, you knelt up onto your knees to pull his shorts down. you couldn’t help swallowing at the sight of him. as dark as it was, you could still see him pretty well. your hand wrapped around him, solid and warm in your palm. topper groaned and leaned back on his hands.

“where’s the condom?” you asked as you stroked him, not at all in a rush with your hand around him.

topper registered your question and patted around the blanket for a moment before holding a square packet between his fingers. you took it from him and bit down on an edge, ripping it open with your free hand. you took the rubber between your fingers and spat the packaging somewhere. topper’s breathing became swallow all the while you stroked him. you stopped and rolled the condom onto him then leaned forward for a kiss.

topper reciprocated, his hands grabbing ahold of your hips until he pulled away to look up at you.

“what if you get sand in your vagina?” he asked, an innocent tone wrapping around his voice.

you couldn’t help the smile or the way your eyebrows furrowed all the while wanting to laugh. that’s what he’s thinking about?

“nothing that hasn’t happened before. it usually takes a couple of days to get rid of but i’ll be fine.”

the topic didn’t stop there. “does it hurt?”

“no, i’ll be fine,” a small laugh slipped out. “that’s why we have a blanket. and i’m on top. can we stop talking about sand getting in my vagina now? it’s kind of killing the mood.”

“sorry,” he shook his head, an embarrassed expression taking form.

you snorted, laughter bubbling up your throat. how did that question even come about in his head? you supposed it was nice of him to care about such a thing. you hoped your laughter didn’t make him feel more embarrassed.

his expression morphed into an amused one and he joined in, laughing at his odd question. you both shook with laughter for a few moments until you calmed down. topper squeezed his fingers on your hips, dragging his palms down your thighs. you brought your lips back to his and your hands to his chest. pushing him gently, you went with him as he lay down. you stayed against him for a couple more seconds before sitting up over him and finding him in your hand again.

topper groaned and gripped your thighs as you brought him into your heat. you couldn’t find your breath as you took him all the way in and sat over him, feeling completely and utterly filled. he was in your stomach, under your skin, everywhere.

“fuck, yes,” you panted, branding your palms on his stomach, pushing his sweatshirt and shirt up again. he was flushed from head to toe, something you were slowly building up to be.

you started off rocking back and forth slowly, feeling him pull and glide inside of you. when you dragged your clit against his skin, which was getting hotter and hotter with the friction, you couldn’t help the way your body tightened around him.

“y/n. oh, fuck—you gotta bounce for me,” topper choked out underneath you, moving his hands to your waist to grip tightly.

you nodded without words, not really finding any with your tongue tied. your hands pushed against his stomach as you lifted yourself up, letting almost all of him leave you empty. then you slammed down, moaning as loud as you could. you didn’t care. not one bit. you were still aware of the bonfire happening yards away, but you didn’t care if someone from the party was walking this way and heard you. let them hear how good topper felt inside you.

a quicker pace was set, sweat building in the creases of your knees and under your hands planted against topper. you loved this. all you could think about was how good it felt, how you fucked topper hard and fast—and how you were getting to fuck him again. it was so much better than the first time, even though you loved having him behind you then. this was just as good.

topper was sitting up again, your sweater rubbing against his and your body feeling way too hot. his hands gripped your ass tightly, helping you rock your hips over him. you were close, closer every time your clit brushed against him at this angle.

it became too much very quickly. you held on to him by his hair at the back of his head, gripping so tightly your knuckles were probably white, and reached your other hand down to touch yourself. your moans were growing higher and more frequent and topper was full-blown panting in your face. when you reached your end, a strangled sound came out of you. you stilled over topper, pulling more of his hair as you came over him.

not long after when you were moving again over him, your mouth on his neck and arms around his shoulders, his grip tightened on your ass as he came. you hummed and gave a few pecks just before he let go and fell onto his back. you followed, moving off of him and laying on your side.

“how long are you here?” topper asked minutes later, his breathing leveling out.

“i leave sunday morning,” you said, blinking tired eyes open as a wind blew over you.

“can i see you again?”

you smiled, your eyes shifting to topper beside you. “don’t you mean can you fuck me again?”

his lips spread wide and if his eyes were open, you had a feeling he’d be rolling them. laughing, you pushed yourself onto your elbow and touched his cheek.

“liza is having a party tomorrow. you should come,” you said quietly, leaning down to brush your lips over his.

“okay.”

“that was easy.”

“it doesn’t take much to convince me,” his voice was tired, piquing your interest.

“am i that good?”

all you got in return was a low laugh.

“i’m taking that as a ‘hell yes’ so thank you very much.”

topper let out a noise just before he moved, pushing you onto your back. his lips landed over yours, gentle and thorough.

saturday

it was a blur of drinks and games and dancing at liza’s house. every room was filled and it was hot for a few hours until you stationed yourself out on the deck with topper. you could lie and say that you didn’t sit out there just to make out with him, but that’s exactly what you did. it was perfect—even more perfect when his shitty friends didn’t show up with him. if you hadn’t been so distracted by his mouth, you would’ve thanked him then and there.

hours later, you had met topper at the front door. you informed liza of your new plans and she was more than happy to get you out of her hair, especially when her eyes latched on to someone and she started to drool into her drink. you grinned fiendishly at her and quickly went on your way.

topper was unlocking his front door and your legs were still a little tingly from the drinks you had over the past few hours. your hand absentmindedly ran along his forearm, needing to feel him so you could stay grounded and alert.

“if you don’t open this door, i’m going to fall asleep right on this porch.”

topper laughed, his keys jingling in his hand. it was a few more seconds of him trying without a light until he eventually found the keyhole and the door swung open. there was a rug that the bottom of the door brushed over and topper walked ahead of you, leading you in by the arm you refused to let go of. he was warm and solid. if you let go, you might evaporate.

your eyes adjusted with the lack of light in the entryway as topper closed the door behind you, sliding the lock into place. your skin felt like it was humming, the hairs on your arm standing up as you stayed close to topper. his shoes scuffed as he kicked them off, his keys dropping onto a table near the door while his other hand wrapped around your wrist. he lured you in by heat alone and you leaned in. your lips landed on his shirt, but you moved them until you found warm skin past the neckline.

reaching down, you found the strap of your sandals and worked to get them undone. why you wore sandals was completely lost on you as you struggled. topper grabbed ahold of you so you wouldn’t fall while your lips pressed a few more kisses into his neck. his hands were searing against your shirt and your skin pricked with the need to have them everywhere.

you kicked off your shoes, feeling your bare foot brush other pairs as topper grabbed ahold of your neck. you didn’t know where he was leading you until his lips landed against your cheek. he adjusted to where he meant to land and opened your lips with his own, coaxing your tongue with his. you moaned as if you were melting, your hands moving along his back as your body relaxed into his. another noise slipped from you, your hands moving down to his hips. one of them you let venture further until you felt him straining against his jeans.

topper gasped, his breath fanning over your mouth and down your neck. you grinned as you squeezed him just so you could see how he’d react.

it was cut short by light flooding the room and burning behind your eyelids. you flinched, parting from topper and squinting.

you were doing so well with no interruptions.

“topper? oh—i’m sorry,” a voice came from your left and you held your eyes open long enough to see a woman standing there, her hand falling from the light switch.

you suddenly remembered where you were holding topper and you dropped your hand, a hot blush crawling up onto your cheeks. you shuffled away from topper faster than he did at composing himself. was it wishful thinking to hope this woman didn’t see where your hand was placed a second ago?

“mom,” topper breathed, hiding his lack of breath well. your own heart was beating so loudly in your ears you figured the woman could hear it too in the entryway.

you averted your eyes, embarrassment dousing you from head to toe at the fact that you’d been caught by topper’s mother.

“we’ll be in my room,” topper said. his hand engulfed yours and you couldn’t remember how to use your feet or legs. “night.”

you kept your head down as topper tugged you past his mother, her robe flowing with the movement. he guided you through the unlit house until you came to his room.

“christ,” he sighed and dropped your hand to close the door. “i’m sorry about that.”

“it’s inevitable when you live with parents,” you shrugged and laughed, looking over your shoulder as topper rubbed his hands down his face. when he dropped them, he shook his head with an amused smile.

you turned back to his room and glanced around, the light a little brighter from the open windows. the decorations were the same, but for the most part it didn’t look all that lived in. you moved to his bed and sat at the end of it, running your hands along the comforter and remembering the last time you were here.

your eyes found topper’s like a magnet. your skin pricked with that awareness of him. reaching, you pulled your shirt off and let it fall beside you. topper watched, his eyes following every movement you made, his gaze moving over you like liquid.

you held your hand out towards him, coaxing him over where you sat. he approached until he was in front of you and even then, you pulled him closer with your hands on his hips again. your eyes fluttered shut as he came between your legs and touched your face, bending down to plant kisses on your forehead, cheeks, and nose. your thighs tightened around him, your hand dropping back to its original spot before you were interrupted. topper kissed you on the mouth then, his tongue hot and invading.

you pushed your palm into him a few times and rubbed until his breath was heavy in your mouth. even though you were kissing him and delighting in the ways he could use his tongue, your mouth felt dry for him. a moment later, your fingers glided up to the button of his jeans, working determinedly to unfasten them.

when his shirt was off and his jeans were unbuttoned, you nudged him backward, slipping from the bed and onto your knees. you pressed your lips along his stomach, feeling it tighten under your mouth as his hands brushed your hair back.

“tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you said quietly, looking up at him as your fingers fisted the waistband of his jeans, slipping into his boxers too.

topper heaved a breath and nodded. you pressed another kiss just beside his belly button as you tugged on his bottoms, pulling them past his hips and leaving them to rest just above his knees.

you didn’t waste any more time. you took him into your mouth within the first few seconds of him smacking his stomach. he moaned with your lips around him and held your face as you licked him thoroughly. you couldn’t stop once you started and it took everything in you not to give him that release as his hand tightened on your face and his hips began to move.

he didn’t protest or get upset when you pulled away, licking your lips and standing. he just kissed you deeply and you wondered if he liked the taste of himself in your mouth. you certainly did.

all of your blood was gathered at your center. your skin was bubbling to a boil and topper helped you cool down, shedding the rest of the clothes between you. your hands wandered all over him as you sat back on the bed, pulling him with you.

you separated for only a second to kiss just under his ear, panting, “i want you inside me. now. i have an IUD.”

topper’s hands paused, his fingertips brushing the underside of your breast. “no condom?” he asked, pulling away further to meet your eyes.

you nodded, biting your lip to keep from putting him inside you now. “as long as you’re okay with it?”

“are you sure?” his eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t tell if he was worried about you or if he really didn’t want to.

you nodded again as you were having trouble finding words without your breath. “have you been tested lately?”

“before i came home. i’m clean,” he said, his hands moving again and squeezing your thighs.

you grinned as your stomach rolled. you pulled him back to you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and smiling against his lips. “me too,” you managed to say and laughed as the excitement poured over.

topper’s skin suddenly felt too hot, but you couldn’t pull your hands away from him if you tried. more blood rushed in between your legs. topper kissed you a few times before pulling away and leaning forward, his hand moving to your lower back to hold you upright while his other landed on the comforter to hold himself up. you drew your legs up around him and tugged him closer, breathing heavily as you anticipated his next move.

he swallowed thickly and averted his eyes down, his hand leaving your skin to grab ahold of himself. you bit your lip as you watched, seeing him swollen and ready and practically dripping. your stomach rolled into a tight ball as his hips grew closer and you bit your lips shut as a noise of surprise left you, floating around the room, when topper dragged his head along your folds painstakingly slow.

as much as you wanted to close your eyes to completely let your senses take over, you lifted them to topper’s face. he closed his eyes as he poked his head at your entrance. when he started to slip inside slowly, his mouth opened and his hand went back to hold you. you held your breath as you felt him inch after inch, filling you and stretching you.

his head fell to your shoulder once he was completely inside, a muffled curse leaving his lips.

“oh my god,” you said at the same time as he said, “god, you feel amazing.”

his hips retracted slowly, just as slow as how he entered, and his lips guided back to yours.

“c-can you move back a little?” he asked. the angle was probably straining him unlike you.

you nodded and didn’t have to do all that much as his hand kept you close to him, keeping himself inside of you, as you moved further onto the bed. you laid on your back and moaned as topper started to move, pinning your hips below his.

“you need to be quiet,” he said.

“why?”

“because my mom is right down the hall.”

“so? she obviously knows what we’re doing.”

“still.”

“oh, topper,” you moaned a little louder, a smile curling the corners of your lips.

topper’s hand landed over your mouth. you laughed into his palm and opened up to bite on his finger.

“you should move that hand a little lower,” you suggested, rolling your hips into his.

topper laughed breathily and a moment later, moved his hand to your neck. his hips drew back then and he thrusted, harder than before.

“oh, fuck,” you panted, tightening your hold on him.

“you like that?” he asked, his fingers flexing on your throat.

“mhm,” you managed, your face screwing up. “just like that.”

you sucked in a gasp, your breath staying in your lungs as topper did it again. you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t do anything but feel everything he was doing to you from your throat to him between your thighs. your back arched, pushing your breasts into his chest. you cried out the next time he thrust, hitting you so deeply, your nipples peeked to hardened points. fuck.

“don’t stop,” you couldn’t stop gasping. “please, don’t stop. it feels so good.”

tears pricked your eyes as he did it again, picking up a rhythm and sticking to it. his hand let go of your throat and gathered your hands into his, pinning them above your head as he fucked into you. the harder he went, the more your nails dug into the backs of his hands. his fingers tightened over yours and you cried out with your hips smacking. he didn’t cover your mouth this time, suddenly not caring if his mom heard you. you didn’t care either, you wanted this to go on all night. hopefully it would.

tears spilled when he didn’t let up his grip or his pace. they fell more as he drove into you quicker. it hurt so good, you couldn’t breathe. you didn’t dare open your eyes to see if he was enjoying it too. you hoped he was, you hoped he was loving pinning your hands down, driving into you like an animal. you didn’t know topper had this in him.

his hand let go of one of yours but you left it where it was as his thumb flicked your clit. your breaths grew higher within seconds and you tightened around him, your free hand flying to his arm where your nails dug in deep. you couldn’t stop the cry bubbling in your chest even if you wanted to. it was going to come out whether you liked it or not and topper wasn’t doing anything to muffle it.

“fuck—i’m going to come,” he sighed, his voice strained. was he losing it too? “come for me, please, baby. come with me.”

“top—” your muscles spasmed and everything exploded. you cried out his name however many times as you came over him, feeling him do the same as he thrusted and emptied inside you. his spurts were heavy and warm as his face buried into your neck, his mouth slick one moment then his teeth latching on to you. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled at his hair as he bit you, not hard enough to break the skin, but it still hurt so good.

“oh my god,” you panted as topper lay limp on you. you could feel both of your orgasms dissipating as your juices mixed and dripped out of you.

having let go of your neck, topper licked over the pulsing spot and lifted his head up to look down at you.

“are you okay?” he asked, sweat collected along his hairline. his thumb brushed your drying tears away.

“that was—i—topper,” you shook your head, wishing you could find the words. “i feel very good right now.”

he laughed, shaking your body with his and making you moan as you felt him rub inside of you. “i’m glad,” he said, kissing the underside of your jaw. “i think we need water and snacks so i’m going to go get some.”

“mmm. that’s a good idea.” you couldn’t bring yourself to wipe his sweat away just to feel it on your fingertips. you were spent.

he smiled and pecked your numb lips before sliding out of you and getting up.

cleaned up and under the covers, topper laid out an array of snacks and water bottles. you sat propped up against his pillows while he lay on his side, his head propped against his hand.

“will you come back next summer?” he asked, popping a piece of fruit into his mouth.

you reached for the cereal bowl of chocolate and stopped the smile from stretching across your face. “maybe.”

“i was looking for an answer more along the lines of yes.”

“you’ll have to be more persuasive then,” you hummed and chewed.

“i can be persuasive.” he was grinning and you couldn’t help thinking that he never looked better. tired, hair messy, dressed in just boxers, completely sated.

“oh yeah?” you raised a brow at him.

“mhmm,” he nodded, putting the fruit down and moving onto his hands and knees to crawl towards you. he grabbed ahold of the comforter and pulled it back a little, revealing your chest to the cool air. his head lowered to press a single kiss to the swell of your breast. then he moved to the other. he pressed a final kiss to your shoulder.

“how’s that?”

you shrugged the shoulder he just kissed and kept the smile off your face. mostly.

topper grinned again and it reached his eyes. he looked over you, down your chest, then slid his hand under the blanket to your thigh. “am i getting closer?”

you gasped and grabbed onto the back of his neck as his fingers ran up the inside of your thigh. heat swirled between your legs. “definitely.”

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes⭐️

@tovvaa @taylathornton @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @clearbolts @jjmaybankzz @macey730 @twinklelilstarkey @disrecpectful @mrs-cameron @jjcanloveme @igotmajordaddyissues @ohhersheybars @malar-region @honeyyhemmings @dvakat

#topper thornton #outer banks #topper thornton x reader #topper thornton x fem!reader #topper thornton obx #topper thornton smut #topper thornton imagine

[dnarez]

Rain Season

Tw. Sex, a lot of fluff, domestic, porn with plot

Aizawa Shouta x Reader

Requested by: Anonymous

Anonymous: I would like to request an Aizawaxfem reader, where she is a pilot but decides to transfer to an office job for him, also, please do is very domestic, like... he had an awful day and is very grumpy, but she takes care of him, and then he takes care of her ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) if you  know what I mean.

I hope you liked it!!! This was my first time doing a request!!!

+3.9k words

I didn't made the second check to see if I have anything wrong with the writting, sorry

...

"Fucking rain season" said Eraserhead while getting inside his home, soaked from head to toe, he saw your heels on the entrance hall and frowned at it, he just wanted to be alone right now.

You heard him going inside your house and by the sound of his wet boots his mood was just as bad as the weather.

Chuckle to yourself as you keep preparing the bathtub.

Shouta's footsteps were light, but you always had a good hearing, and that helped to not letting him scare the shit out of you.

"I know that you are there love" you raise to your feet and look at him with a smile, but turns into a giggle seeing him all wet.

"Why are you here?" his rude tone would set anyone off, but you knew he was just being grumpy.

"I can't fly with this rain, it's too dangerous for me and the passengers so~" you go to him and brush his bangs away to let you see all of his beautiful face.

His eyes glare at you, he didn't want to get his hopes too high, Shouta knew that having a relationship with a pilot wouldn't be easy, and the little bit of time you two had together was heaven but always too short.

So any time that you had a day off he wouldn't ask for more time, but fuck he missed his girlfriend, he didn't even know how he was so lucky to fetch such a catch, but you would always respond with 'the bait was just too good to let it pass'

Even so, even if he tried to not get his hopes up, maybe... just maybe you would stay for a bit longer than usual...

You kissed his cheek and petted his drenched hair "I also got a promotion!"

Shouta frowned at that "so why don't you go celebrate with your friends?" He pushes you away and started to strip.

Huffing, you help him against his wishes "How barbaric! Didn't even let me finish!" You hold his hands stopping him from taking his pants off "I got a promotion for..." you clap twice "AN OFFICE JOB!" And make jazz hands on the end.

He looks at you astonished "An office job!? You hate working on a desk, and you also hate doing the same things every day! That's why you love being a pilot!" He says angrily, everything was making him angry right now, even your voice, one of, if not the most thing, he likes about you.

You sigh "Yes but... I already traveled to most of the countries in the world, I saw so much but..." you blush and evade his eyes

Aizawa gets closer to you, making both chests almost touch "But?"

"But... every time I saw something new I would think of you... and how you would like this, or how you would smile eating that, I'm feeling more and more homesick with each trip so... I asked to be transferred..."

He just... looks at you, which makes you blush more each minute that passes "I-I was thinking... that I could... maybe... move in, since it's so close to the airport from here, and... I would be able to sleep and wake up with you by my side" your whole face is red.

Shouta smile and hugs you tightly, "Why are you even asking? I gave you the keys in hope that you would move in"

You smiled and hugged him back, but his skin was too damn cold! You felt like you were hugging an ice cube!

The sweet moment was interrupted by him sneezing, "OMG! Bathtub! Now!" You pull him to the tub and help him to take off his clothes

"What about you? You just got here, right?" He asked while stepping out of his pants and boxer.

"I will take a shower, you can take your time and relax" you kiss his shoulder (because it's the highest place you can reach without him bending)

Shouta nods and gets inside the bathtub, smelling a woodsy scent, the water was also a little green "what did you put in here?"

You take off your clothes "It's a new bathwater, it helps relax the body and all that shit" you take a hair tie and ties Aizawa's hair in a cute messy bun "today we will take care of you, okay?" finally being able to kiss his cheek you smile nodding to yourself and goes to take a shower.

He watches you for some time and then relax on the bathtub, now that he's calm and relaxed he can faintly hear the sound of the rain outside, the strong bathroom lights were annoying him by not letting him relax "can you please turn off the lights?"

You stop for a minute and get out of the shower, doing what he asked, but lighting a few candles first "better?"

"Uhum..." he sighs and close his eyes

"I will keep on watch, don't worry, you can take a nap" you dry yourself and take the stool you normally used to shave and sit on it while on Aizawa's side

He just mumbles something and start to snore lightly.

You smile at the scene, he was always a sweetheart with you, putting you first, even if you had to cancel a lot more plans than he had because of work, the day you two meet was while he was working, and you were on your way to your flight, it was out of a novel type of meeting.

________________

It was supposed to be a normal Friday, you were going on your vacation, and decided to walk to the airport, you decided that it was the only type of exercise you would do on your vacation, since you were going to eat a lot of everything no matter the place.

But while calmly walking and admiring the orange sky, some guys passed running way too close to you, the last one actually picked you up and started caring you!!!

"HELP!" you shouted and started struggling trying to get the man to release you, to no avail

"Calm down princess, we just want the cops to not shoot"

"YOU SHUT UP!" you screamed and punched his throat making him stumble and drop you on the ground.

You landed in a bad way over your arm, you heard something crack, but the adrenaline pumping in your veins made it impossible to feel any pain.

You heard footsteps coming to you and see that a pro was following them, one of the guys grabs you and point a knife to your neck.

"Stop or I'll slice her throat!" The pro stops a few meter away and glares at the villain.

The villain rise you to your feet and gives a maniac laugh "poor hero! I know that you won't forget her face after this-"

Since you had both arms free, and had a brain, you decided to not let him kill you, so as logically as anyone would think, you decided to grab his balls and squeeze them as strongly as you could, and sadly for him, you were really angry.

The villain releases you and falls to his knees, you take the opportunity to run to the pro.

The dark haired hero put quirk canceling handcuffs on both of them, he looks back at you and makes sign to get you closer, you do as told and, and he put his hand on your right arm, you scream at that and holds your arms close to your chest "FUCK!"

He nods to himself "the police and ambulance are already on their way, you shouldn't have done that, what would happen if he had cut your throat in impulse?"

"Then I would die" you look at him with a poker face "so what? Now I will have to get a license and won't be able to work for the next 3 months, GREAT!" you groan frustrated and glare at your own arm.

"You almost died and care more about your job?" He asks confused.

"Not exactly, I just got my vacation, and now I have to postpone for a few days, just so I can get used to the cast, this suck" you sigh and let your head fall forward.

"You just need to ask for your friend's help, why would that be difficult?" He looks back at the handcuffed villains and then looks the siren noise finally starts to be heard.

"I don't have friends" you say and look up at him "so again, it will be difficult to do things with a cast"

You two were silenced by the ambulance and the police car arriving almost at the same time, you were checked and told that you would go to the hospital, but before they closed the door the hero came back into view.

"You said you don't have friends so... would you like my help?"

______________

Since then, you both had so much fun together, you started to pass more and more time with each other.

Until you asked him out on a date, and here you are, watching him on the bathtub taking a nap.

You smile at the scene and goes next to him, and start giving butterfly kisses all over his face to wake him up.

Aizawa wakes up and looks at you sleepy, you smile at his cute face "the water must be getting cold, come on, I already ordered food from your favorite restaurant" you help him up and dry him when he steps out of the bathtub, giving small kisses all over.

"You don't need to do this... I'm actually quite against this..." you chuckle and shake your head

"You work hard every day and night, always finds time to go watch a movie that I want, or go to a place that I like, you stay at school until late to help your students, or to help Yamada with paperwork, you are also thinking about getting the temporary guard of that little girl Eri" you put his towel around his waist and ties it there "It's my time to help you" you kiss his shoulder "and take care of the man I adore"

He nodded, permitting your plans to pamper the shit out of him.

You take a hold of his hand and brings him to the bedroom, where there were some candles and light blue rose petals, some relaxing song was playing, and the few scented candles were weak and just enough to help him relax.

"You got my favorite ones... " he looks at the light blue petals and gives a sad smile "thank you..."

You know that he is thanking for the flower, since the color always reminds him of his late friend, but when you two talk about it, you never ask about the accident, and just ask about everything else about him and their time together, so to Shouta when you show or talk about his late friend only good memories surge, and not the dreadful one, which he is quite thankful for.

"You're welcome, now lay down on the bed, stomach down and ass up" he looks at you suspiciously "I won't play with your ass today, don't worry, I will give you a massage"

He sits on the bed "since when do you know how to make these?"

You huff and put on one of his shirts "I took classes, so that I could help you de-stress, now lay down and let me help you"

He sighs thinking how this is a terrible idea, but smiles and comply at the end 'she learned something just to help me...'

You start on his feet, massaging with care a trying to remember what he told you on the classes.

Aizawa closed his eyes and thought about the time before this relationship, he would probably have taken a quick shower, ate some leftovers and slept the rest of the time, then woke up and go to work.

Having you is a luxury he wants to have every day.

Shouta knows that it's selfish of him to think like that, but you are so good to him, always has been.

When he was tired it seemed like you had a sixth sense to know, you would tell him to lay his head on your lap and would pet his hair while talking about your day with a sweet a low toned voice, he would always wake up on the bed, you said that you woke him up and brought him to the room, but he doesn't remember waking up at all.

Your hair was beautiful, your eyes gorgeous, your nose cute, the way you tilt your head before asking a question, the little mole you have on your eyelid, that can only be seen when your eyes are closed.

He really adores you.

The massage is so fucking good, you said you took a few classes??? He doesn't believe you.

Your hands go gradually up to his legs, then his lower back, his upper back, and you finish on his neck, when you had finished the feet he was already napping.

You hoped that the massage was good and that it would help him, you were going to wake him, but your phone buzzed signaling that your food was here.

You get up, pick the phone up and go to the door where you greet the delivery guy.

"Having a good night?" You ask while hiding half of your body behind the door

"Yes ma'am! Here's your order" he gives you your package which you quickly put on the table and return with your cellphone showing the qr code

"Here, have a great end of day" he smiles back at you and goes away.

You lock the door and put the table for the two of you.

...

Shouta wakes up feeling extremely relaxed, but something was missing, he looks around and see that the candles were off, only the scented one was light 'smart girl' he smiles at the thought of you, and notices how his body is super light.

He gets up and adjust the towel around his waist, his mood is a lot better now, but while hungry his facial expression still was an angry glare, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and frowns, you always had a carefree and relaxed expression, and he was starting to get aging lines, were you really only 5 years younger?

He sighs and opens the door not bothering to put on clothes, he sees you putting the table up and sees the package for his favorite sushi place and frowns.

You look back at him and smile "I was about to wake you up"

Aizawa gets closer to you "You shouldn't have done that, my favorite restaurant is too expensive to order if it isn't an especial occasion"

You shake your head "We are celebrating my promotion, also I got a fat bonus~" you sit and point serves you both some wine.

"Let's celebrate and relax" you start eating happy for the high quality product.

...

After eating you washed the dishes against Shouta's wish, but he did put the plates away.

"So... is there anything else you wanted to do?" You look at your boyfriend and see his relaxed body and face, much better than the angry wet cat that had arrived earlier.

He steps closer to you and looks into your eyes "I want to do you"

You blush heavily "this isn't about me today..." you pout

He shakes his head "I love when I see your facial expressions, and your voice screaming my name is my favorite song, now please... let me hear you sing" he holds your face with both hands and give you a peck on the lips.

You nod and close your eyes, going with the flow.

His pecks turn into kisses, that he cover your face with it, very slowly "my beautiful. Kind. Sweet. And caring girlfriend. Taking such a good care of me. You think that I didn't notice how the house is cleaner than when I left?" His kisses start to go lower to your throat "always so caring... you also need to de-stress a little. Let me help you" his hand start to travel down thru your body.

You sigh from how kind he is being, normally he would kneel and eat you out like he was a starved man, then he would proceed to fuck your brains out on the dinner table, but right now he wasn't stressed from work, or angry about the villains attacking even in this bad weather.

You should do this more often...

"Stop spacing out and focus on me" he bites your earlobe, and you gasp focussing on him, you only now notice his hands on your thigh and on your breasts under the shirt, he gave both a little squeeze which made you whimper and tremble under his hands.

"S-sorry..." he kissed your collarbone and bite your neck

"Let's go to our bed, it's been some time since we used it for something that isn't sleeping" you felt a shiver going all over your body from how low his voice got.

"Y-yeah! Let's do that!" You turn around to go to the bedroom, but he stops you by picking you up, you hug his neck and blush heavily again "hey! You surprised me!"

"Good, that was the intention" as he walks to the bedroom you hear something falling, when you look behind him, you see that he dropped the towel, and now you have a perfect place to see his butt.

"Why is your ass better than mine?" You pout and notice that you are now on the bedroom

"If you exercise more you would also have a nice and firm ass like mine, but I do prefer pudding"

"Pudding?" He lays you down on the bed with your back to the ceiling and stomach to the bed.

Shouta give your ass a bite, and you laugh "oh! Pudding! Now I get it"

He chuckles and kiss where he had bitten "mine..." he says in a sweet voice and hugs your waist for some time.

Then he raises and turn you around, now facing him "would you allow me to make love with you?"

You blush and smile, caressing his face "of course" you take the opportunity to untie his hair, that had been tied since the bath 'next time I will wash his hair'

Shouta smiles and kiss you slow and passionately.

This was different from normal, and so good, so sweet, you feel his hands going down again and opening your legs.

His fingers caressed your entrance, he broke the kiss and brought his fingers to his face "so wet for me already, how kind of you" his fingers go down again but this time he makes circling movements on your clit.

You sigh from the stimulation and pull his face close to you again "please, I want more Shouta" you open your mouth begging for more kisses.

He complies and kiss you passionately again, his second hand come up and fondle with your breast, sometimes pinching your nipple.

Everything he did was so slow that you felt like drowning in him, his taste, his scent, his skin touching yours, you were drowning in him and him in you.

After 2 years of relationship you two knew what the other liked or needed, and this was something new, that both needed this very much and neither knew.

His fingers went inside you slowly and curved slightly, then he moved it at the same pace as before, slow enough to tease but fast enough to stimulate.

You part the kiss again "more... please! More!" You move your hips to feel more and put your hand over his that was on your breast and squeeze it asking for more pressure.

"Such a nice way to beg... do you think you can take it? I want to feel you around me"

You knew that you needed more preparation, since Shouta was the biggest you ever had, and he stretched you to your limit every time, you remember that the first time you two had the sensation was the same as losing your virginity, but he asked so nicely... and by the looks of it he will be very loving, so you nod in confirmation.

He smiles at you and lined himself on your entrance.

Now that you think about it, it looks like he was hard for some time now, the purplish head and the pulsating vein make it obvious that he has been holding himself back.

"My eyes are up here~" he mocks, and you look at him, like... you really look at him, and you decide to drop the bomb.

The L bomb hadn't been dropped by neither of you, even after 2 years, both afraid of the other leaving after they got attached, but... you were already attached, and he has such a dangerous job, you never know what will happen, so you decide to let it be known.

"Aizawa Shouta... I love you"

He looked astonished at you and gave you a wobbly smile "I love you too" as he said that he penetrated into you and gave you a deep kiss with a lot of tongue to distract you from the discomfort.

Aizawa keep pushing until all of him was inside, he part the kiss and sighs relieved "you are always what I need to make a shitty day much better"

You shudder from his deep voice and put your hands on his shoulder "I'm glad that I can put your mind at ease in though days" you kiss his nose and he smiles back at you.

He gives a small trust, and you respond with a small moan, encouraging him.

Shouta gives slow and shallow trusts, letting you get comfortable.

You lick your lips and wiggle your hips trying to get more of him in "please move! Your going too slow!" He chuckles and bites your neck

"I had totally forgotten this" he takes your shirt off "there, all mine " he said in a sweet tone and hugged you close, letting both chest press against each other.

Shouta starts moving faster, and the way his body squeezed you was suffocating in a good way, you start scratching him as soon as he's hips start clapping against yours, the pressure on your belly.

'So close' the position had his cock rubbing against your favorite spot deliciously you were taking short breaths with your eyes glossy from pleasure.

But the feeling of you around him, your nails on his back and your small moans and whimpers, everything about you was intoxicating, Shouta bites your necks, then your shoulder, and start to bite you all over leaving marks on you "mine..." he said again and started pounding on you.

It was so sudden that you couldn't hold back a high pitched moan followed by a whimper "Shouta!"

He bites your nipple and suck it while fucking you, holding your body against him by the hips.

Shouta was going to be kind and have a slow and sweet sex with you, but the way you drive him crazy with so little, he wants to ravish you, but decides against it.

One of his hands go to your clit and rub circles on it making your body tremble, and you arch your back wanting more "Shouta!"

His thrusts got sloppier, now going faster "close... so close" he laid his head on your shoulder.

The feeling of his dick kissing you womb hurt in a good way, the way he knew you loved "close!"

You came first, creaming on his dick while arching your back, his thrusts got sloppier he bites your shoulder and grunts while coming on your stomach.

He sits up and looks down at you, and your stomach covered in cum and your fucked out face with pride.

..........................................

I had already wrote this, I still am on hiatus, I'm just posting it here, since the other plataforms already have it

#bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #aizawa shouta #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x you #aizawa sensei #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa fluff #shouta x y/n #bnha shouta aizawa #mha shouta #smut #oneshot #minors do not interact

[justformyself2]

what is up with us and boats?

Happy Easter yall!!! This one goes out to the beautiful soul that gave the idea @alievans007​ thank you do much, i really hope you enjoy ♥

I don’t know if you guys ever watched “My Best friend’s Wedding.” but there is this scene were they are on the boat ride in Chicago, and i love that scene, this is sort of based on that. 

VIDEO FOR WHO WANTS TO SEE.  (CLICK)

KrasinskixReader/Fluff.

(don’t remember where i got this gif from.)

"We need to talk." The worst type of message anyone could ever receive. 

Holding up a smirk, you start typing.

"Yes, we do."

"Could you focus? You know, for the love of God and everything. We still have to drive to Olivia's after this." Mariah interrupts whatever dance with the danger you were having with John over text.  

"Why is everybody so weird all of the sudden? First John and now you too, I mean, we are settling details here. The trip to Positano is all sorted."

She gets radio silent, making you look away from your phone. 

"Mariah." You call.

"What?" She answers, badly covering the stress in her voice.

"Everything is fine, right?"

She breaths out through the nose, clicking on the mouse rapidly. 

"Mariah." You call again as if an answer different than you were expecting would come out. 

The Positano trip was a huge deal, a huge, cryptic deal that Mariah arranged by herself through an old friend you never heard or saw. The client, by the name of Vince, was paying double to hire your company, and an undeniable request came, almost sweeping away all of your doubts. You would get to shoot a perfume commercial during the holidays at the place you always dreamed of visiting. It was embarrassing how fast the yes came out, almost in a scream towards Mariah's face, even though there was something off. 

It was true that in the past you worked for the big names, but since the decision to open your own company with Mariah happened, it was all new, too new to be receiving this type of offer. You decided to brush it off by 

trusting your business partner, Mariah had been in the game longer than you have, and if she claimed, more than once, that it was a safe offer and that she had under control then you should believe since her reputation was on the game too, but now get to watch her sitting in front of you, looking worried.

"Well, I'm going to make some phone calls, but don't worry, it is a quick fix situation. I will be right back."

She gets up from the desk, grabbing her phone, and leaving the space before you could say something back. 

Your mind wonders over the fact that your intuition should be listened to more often. It was a "too good to be true" offer, so if that would end up being right, and Mariah came back with the bad news, would it mean that you were probably right about John too.

You look at your phone, facing down on the desk, and decide to check the messages again. There must be something missing between the lines.

Inserting the pin you open up the new messages you received from your boyfriend.

"What do you mean with ‘yes we do’?"

"Tell me when I can call you."

"Damn. I think I'm not getting the week off. They are talking about reshooting some parts." 

"I will call you in 10 minutes."

And just as you read the last one, your phone vibrates. It was his call. Taking a deep breath, you accept it.

"Hey, babe, did you get my texts?"

You hear the many voices in the background mixing with his.

"Yes, I did... Are you on set right now?"

"Yes. I'm on a little break...I'm sorry, baby. I'm not going to make it to Positano."

The frustration makes your heart skip a beat even though you saw the message, hearing it in his voice had a different effect. You stopped counting the weeks without him because of the impact they had on your day, instead, in a very unhealthy way, that habit was replaced with you picturing him waiting for you at home, laying in the bed you shared or in the kitchen, trying to replicate whatever recipe out of Youtube just to prove that he could cook, just to try to impress you. He still wanted to impress you after all this time, he just didn't figure out how to be in two places at once. 

"Well, don't be. If I'm right I don't think this trip is happening." 

As time passes by without Mariah coming back, your guess was becoming a reality. It wasn't a quick fix thing.

"What are you talking about?"

His voice went urgent, and he quickly added: "I mean, it was a great offer."

"Yes, but it is a holiday season. It gets difficult with hotel reservations and flights, but Mariah ran away before I could get a word out of her. It happens."

"Wow, you sound so indifferent. I thought you loved Positano." 

You had to agree with him. You felt the apathy in your bones.

"I do love Positano, but the offer was out of touch like something was off like everything is off."

You hear him chuckle and frown to yourself, walking towards Mariah's laptop on her desk.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You were so weird when I dropped you at the airport as if you wanted to say something to me or pass out."

You reminisce his pale face and the way his hands were clammy on yours before the goodbye on the car. 

"Those are two very different things." You wanted to picture the face he could be doing right now.

"Well, I still feel like there is something you are not tell-."

"Baby, I need to go right now, sorry, I will call you later okay."

The interruption of a female voice in speakers was the last thing you heard before he hanged up.

"What the hell was going on?" You say to yourself. 

Forgetting about the phone you decided to check on Mariah's laptop for confirmations, but before anything was done she busted through the door.

"Did you fixed it?"

You ask, seeing her avid eyes shift between you and the laptop.

"What are you doing?" She asks and snaps out of the suspicion stare.

"What do you mean what am I doing? I want to help. Do you care to tell me what is happening, Mariah?"

Her phone calls her attention, and she rushes towards the laptop, answering quickly, leaving you only to watch again.

"Did you get my text? Yes, apparently a bug happened on the site, and our plane tickets got canceled." She discoursed to the person on the other site.

"I don't know if we are getting new ones on the same date, there is a lot of demand... Well, then we have to cancel for no-... Are you sure? Okay, no. I can do that, is way off plan, way less dreamy, really, way less, but I guess we can do it if you do this right now."

She pauses, focused on what was being passed down. "Okay, then it's the new plan. Okay, okay, bye."

Hanging up, she now seemed to be willing to share.

"Change of plans. I informed Vince's team about what happened, and a girl named J-Jannete said that we should meet to settle some details. They want to go for a studio since the deadline would get messed up because of the plane ticket debacle."

"Shit, why didn't you put on speakerphone? I know someone that could help us wit-."

"NO!..." She screams, making you back away involuntary.  "I mean, I already checked that, and we can't keep tapping on something that isn't working. They are already upset and we could lose even more time. Jenna set up a meeting with Vince himself...Jannete, at four, so you get to meet him, as you wanted."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . . . .. . . . 

"Why are we on a boat ride again?"

You ask Mariah, who fanned herself with a flier they were distributing about the ride.

"Because we got bailed on and it has been a long time since I don't go on one of those."

She adjusts the sunglasses in an annoyed way. 

The day-star was starting to set, still, the weather was hot and humid as if it was peaking. You try to catch delicate hints of purple and pink on the mostly light orange painted sky.

"I haven't been on one of these since John asked me to be his girlfriend. It was our third date. He insisted on the boat ride and I didn't like it, but then the sun was setting so beautifully, in not time the only thing i could care about was the way he looked at me."

There is no interruption other than the sting in your chest, making you stop on the tracks of something you loved to remember.

"I think John is lying to me. I don't think he was on set." Voicing the thoughts made them too real, and suddenly you wanted to forget about them.

"Yeah."

Mariah twists her torso once or twice, looking back to the people who were still taking seats. You doubted she was listening to anything you said all the way here. She started inspecting the place, restless since the taxi dropped you two.

"Okay, are you waiting for someone?"

By impulse, you look back to pursue whatever her eyes were trying to find even without knowing, and that is when you spotted him, a vision that walked towards you, seeming to be out of breath. His mouth partially open turns into the smile you wanted to kiss.

"Son of a bitch."

The words flew from your lips and you hear Mariah's laugh.

Your eyes follow his movements with thirst, so much thirst that everything else is a mere blur in the background.

John comes closer, saying something to Mariah when she gets up and hugs him. She never hugged him. 

You swallow dry, seeing for a second Mariah give you a thumbs up before walking away.

"Hey." He almost whispers towards your face, taking the seat, and when his lips come closer to yours, you back away. He frowns.

"You were in LA."

"Yes, I was."

"Please, don't short answer me."

He gets up from the chair and grabs extends his hand towards you.

"Come with me, and I will explain."

Not thinking twice you accept his hand, being guided to the stern of the boat, walking in the middle of strangers and loud conversations. John drops your hand and reaches for your waist with smoothness as if he could be taking you to dance. Intuitively your arms laces around his neck.

His eyes trace a path away from you and straight to your mouth before he started moving.

"You are so difficult to lie to." He starts, smirking. 

A gust of wind blows the locks of your hair away, and his fingers are quick to adjust them behind your ear, sending goosebumps on your back. You missed his touch on your skin.

"But you did lie to me." You can't help to say, trying to focus.

"It was only because I wanted to this right, but I know I would blow it at some point. It almost happened when you dropped me at the airport."

"Do what right?"

His breath came out uneasy through his nose, and he licks his lips.

"Ask you to...marry...me."

Instantly you feel your eyes starting to water. There was no control or rational thought that could calm down the wave of feeling like the soles of your shoes weren't touching the wooden floor of that boat, and his arms were the only thing keeping you down.

"There is no Vince. It was a bait to make a surprise for you and get you to Positano without getting too suspicious, and I lied about not going as part of the surprise. I would do the whole thing right, bring our families, have a huge dinner, enjoy a couple of days there. Then your tickets got canceled, the Vince thing got way too suspicious, and I haven't seen you in almost four weeks. Next thing I know, I was at the airport, counting the hours to do this."

He captures your lips with his before you could comprehend. There are intensity and the passion you craved, and that only he could provide, he could devour you, and you would let him.

"Do it right now."

You ask, out of breath, after parting the kiss with his moan of reproval.

"Don't you want the real thing? You know, I can figure out the tickets, maybe call Clooney and ask if we can borrow his private jet. He will probabl-."

"I don't care where you are going to propose to me. I just want you to do it, that is the real thing. It could have been on the car, at breakfast, at the airport, or even in a replica of the day you asked me to be your girlfriend."

He laughs, kissing you again. He holds your face in his hands, parting the kiss to gaze at your eyes.

"Oh, I'm glad you remembered it. That is why I wanted to make something different this time. What is up with us and boats?."

"I don't know but let's get back into the program here. You were about to ask me something." 

He frowns, looking away theatrically.

"And what was the question, again?" John asks, setting his face close to yours. His lips touching your cheeks, coming closer to your ear.

"Was it something like. Do you want to marry me?" 

You could feel your neck hair getting up with the vibration of his low and deep tone affecting you easily.

"Yes."

#John Krasinski #john krasinski imagine #john krasinskixreader #proposal #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

[mermaidsneedwater]

christmas with you | epilogue

series page

tag list: @yup-indecisive-girl-cece

A Holly Jolly Christmas

3 YEARS LATER…

“I can’t believe Joey has finally brought someone home for Christmas!” Dorine cheered excitedly, bringing down the plates from the cupboard. “Oh to think, all my babies are going to be married soon…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all always be home for Christmas though.” Tammy smiled, helping bring the plates to the table.

“How did they meet again?” You asked, coming into the kitchen and heading to the counter. Tossing the salad in the bowl, you listened for the answer to your question.

“College, but they reconnected recently.” Grace informed you.

“How sweet.” You grinned. “I’ve never seen Joey like this, he must really like her.”

“It’s definitely serious.” Grace agreed. “Joey dates around but he never brings anyone home.”

“Okay, we’re ready!” Dorine said. “Just bring the salad to the table when you’re done Y/N.”

Dorine, Tammy and Grace left the kitchen to gather the rest of the family at the dinner table.

“Joey and I laid the table.” You heard Mark announced from the other room. He walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and planting a kiss on your cheek. “Hi baby. How are you feeling?”

“I’m good.” You turned around to peck him, before laughing. “But you don’t have to keep asking me how I’m feeling, I’m only 12 weeks.”

“I know but I just want to make sure you’re not over exerting yourself. It’s bad for the baby!”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you handed him the salad bowl that was now tossed. “Okay, okay. Can you take this bowl to the table?”

“Of course.” He smiled, feeling very helpful. Mark took the bowl from your hands and walked away to the table.

You and Mark had agreed not to mention anything to the family until you were past the first trimester. However with Raymond and Grace offering you a drink every other hour it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide.

Sighing, you closed the kitchen light and walked to the dining table where everyone had gathered. Upon seeing you, Mark jumped out of his seat and pulled your chair for you. Smiling, you heard Raymond tap his knife to his glass to get everyone’s attention.

“Hi everyone.” He started, smiling. “I’d like to make a little toast.”

Everyone slowly quieted down, eager to hear the speech.

“I want to thank god for the food and amazing people gathered tonight. And I want to welcome Abby, the newbie this year.” Raymond smiled. “I can’t tell you how much I love having everyone together for the holidays… so without further ado, let’s eat!”

The family cheered as they began to dig into the spread of food laid out on the table.

+++

“So Abby,” Mark spoke up. “How did my meathead brother convince you to spend Christmas with us?”

Flustered, you watched as Joey’s girlfriend looked at Mark. “Oh- uh I was just in town and he messaged to meet up and the rest is history.”

“Ah, I see.” Mark laughed. “He’s not as smooth as he thinks he is.”

Grace chuckled at her brother’s remark before turning to you. “Want some wine Y/N? I think mom just opened up a Cabernet.”

“Oh no thank you,” you declined politely. “I’m good for now.”

“Don’t give your baby brother a hard time Mark,” Tammy winked. “You’re going to scare Abby off.”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t run off already.” Mark teased.

“You’re so funny Mark.” Joey rolled his eyes. “Speaking of running off... Don’t you remember Christmas three years ago?”

You bit back a laugh as you watched Mark frown. He was rather sensitive about the situation.

“What happened?” Abby asked curiously.

“Oh you don’t know?” Tammy perked up. “It’s a Tuan family folktale.”

“What?”

“Oh please Tammy.” You laughed. “I’d hardly call it that.”

“It was pretty wild Y/N.” Grace chimed in.

You heard Kylie, Leila and Bailey from the end of the table “It’s really funny!”

“I’d call it straight out of a hallmark Christmas Movie.” Dorine laughed.

“Okay, now I really want to know. What happened three years ago?” Abby turned to Joey.

“Mom had called Mark up asking him about his Christmas plans and who he would be spending the holiday with.” Joey recounted. “At the time Mark was busy, but they cancelled his schedule. It was a fanmeet or something right?”

“A concert.” Mark corrected.

“Anyway, he panicked because he’d lied and said he was seeing someone. So he did what any normal person would do...”

“He admitted that he lied?” Abby suggested.

“Nope! He managed to convince Y/N to fly here and be his fake girlfriend for the holidays.”

“What?!” Abby’s eyes widened. She then turned to you, “is that true?”

“Unfortunately.” You looked at Mark with a small smile.

“So then what happened?” Abby turned back to Joey.

“Well then they actually started to fall for each other… which by the way no one knew. We all just saw them acting like a couple and thought it was for real.”

“Not all of us!” Tammy interjected. “I had a sneaking suspicion that something was up.”

“Yeah right Tammy.” Mark scoffed. “Nobody had any idea, that’s how great we were at acting.”

He held up a hand for you to high five which you did.

“No! Y/N, didn’t I pull you aside and tell you?” Tammy turned to you.

“You didn’t tell me that you thought we were faking it.” You replied. “Just that you thought Mark loved me.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “She did?!”

You nodded with a chuckle.

“Okay anyway can I finish the story?” Joey asked.

“Yes please continue.” Raymond spoke between bites of his food.

“So they were fake dating and then they fell in love for real? Wow…” Abby said.

“You think that’s dramatic? Then Y/N’s ex showed up at our door!” Joey narrated. “A little backtrack to the story, Y/N had only agreed to come with Mark because she’d just broken up with her fiancé.”

“Oh shit! So he showed up?” Abby said, turning to you. “Then what happened?”

“Mark let her go. He let her leave with her fiancé and told us that she had some family emergency.” He continued. “Pretty stupid if you ask me.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, if you love something then you should let it free, because if it really loves you it’ll come back?” Mark asked.

“Yes. And it’s a dumb saying.” Joey replied.

Mark rolled his eyes, letting out a huff. “I just wanted Y/N to be happy and I thought that it meant being with him.”

“Whatever bro.” His younger brother laughed.

“So that was it? Y/N just left?” Abby asked her boyfriend.

“Well… I’m not too sure about the details after that.” Joey admitted.

“I’ll tell you. I dumped the jerk for the second time in the car ride to his hotel. Then I made him drop me off somewhere and I stayed at a dumpy motel until my flight.” You recounted. “I didn’t come back here because I thought your brother didn’t like me and wanted to get rid of me.”

“You thought that?” Mark asked sadly, grabbing your hand.

“What else was I supposed to think?” You laughed. “You walked me straight out of your house and into the car with him.”

“I’m sorry.” He squeezed your hand.

“So then after moping around for a few days, mom and dad asked him what had really happened and Mark had to come clean.” Joey told Abby.

“Oh wow…” Abby trailed off, thinking about the story.

“Yeah, Mark had to chase Y/N at the airport and catch her before she got on the flight back.”

“You chased her at the airport?! That’s so romantic.” Abby sighed.

“Well, it was romantic once the security guards let go of him.” You smiled. “They were really trying to drag him out of there. I was afraid they thought he was a hijacker or something.”

“I had to do whatever it took to get to you before you left.” Mark said. “Anyway it paid off didn’t it? Now we’re married and about to have a baby.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Mark.

“Y/N IS PREGNANT?!” Dorine yelled across the table.

“Oh shit.” Mark cursed, frantic. “We weren’t really telling anyone yet since it’s so early.”

You watched as Dorine’s eyes welled with tears of happiness.

“It’s okay Mark.” You reassured him, looking around the table and smiling. “But yes, I found out a few weeks ago.”

“Oh my goodness I’m so happy!” Dorine cried. She stood up from her seat and hugged you. “This is the best Christmas present ever!”

“So that’s why you weren’t drinking.” Grace mused. “I was wondering why my wine buddy wasn’t having a glass tonight.”

You laughed at Grace, “I’m sorry, I’m going to be out of commission for the next 7 months.”

Pouting, she raised her wine glass “To Y/N and Mark. Merry Christmas!”

“To Y/N and Mark. Merry Christmas!” The table echoed back.

I hope you guys enjoyed this epilogue! I originally hadn’t planned one but I just thought this was a cute way to catch with the Tuan’s and tie the story up.

#got7 #Mark tuan #got7 mark #mark got7 #got7 christmas #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 drabbles #got7 fluff #got7 fics #got7 reactions #mnw works

[hetalia-has-a-secretary]

How they met, honeymoon stage, couple crisis, break relationship and reconciliation of the couple. With your favorite character! Come on, GO GO GO

M-my favorite character? (✿^J^)(ʘᴗʘ✿) gonna hit the self indulgent ask before bed lol. TIME TO DUMP SOME SELF INSERT YAHOO!

Trigger warning: Mentions of blood and violence! (Be honest a relationship with Russia will be the most difficult for many reasons, but there is a sunny horizon I swear!)

Russia and the World Meeting's Secretary Headcannons!

How they met:

Cute if you thought it was all rainbows and happy sunshine.

The secretary was immediately interested in Russia, but it was mostly because of her hopeless romance tendencies and he kept just... Staring at her the first few days of her new job.

They only interacted when England and France got into a heated argument about something, something, "You're cooking's more Terrifying than Russia is on a good day"

Mistakes were made and unbeknownst to the Secretary, Russia is quite the intimidating man.

She was only able to gather that by how silent the room got, either way it was part of her contract with Germany to break up any fights that would prevent meetings from running smoothly.

Stepping between the shivering men, and Russia everyone immediately became more concerned, and kicking themselves for not warning her beforehand.

Russia wasn't even bothered by it, he just simply redirected his aura to the new secretary who he gave zero cares about, and was fully expecting them to run away crying, which honestly pleased him since she had the guts to intervene.

"Hm? And what's this? Is the little one going to try and protect those two from me break in the faces, da?"

She felt her nerves on edge, but with a quick breath her hands were on her hips and she shot back at him-

"Don't give me any of that crap. If you're trying to scare me, go find out how to do that from my Ex Step Father..."

Physical gasps were heard, and the tension in the room climbed until Russia seemingly calmed down- "Da, I will sit down then..."

Their other interaction was just as unpleasant a few days later.

Russia pretty much told her that he doesn't care how strong she thinks she is, that no matter how many secretaries Germany hired, he won't step over any lines so long she doesn't.

He was taken aback by her calm demeanor and that she ignored his threat.

"Look- I'm sorry if I upset you, that wasn't my intention. It's literally in my job description. But If you do that again, I'll have to step in again. It's not you, and it's not me. It's the money..."

Then that same day Russia had seen her waiting outside for her ride, and he had a taxi back to his hotel that he was also waiting for, and decided to stand with her.

She straight up asked him if he was willing to try and start over and go to her place for dinner. All while mentally yelling at herself how insane that sounded.

He denied her, and didn't explain why until his taxi arrived. It was due to his plane taking off soon.

He found her place anyway that night deciding to accept her offer since his hotel was closed and booked for someone else the same time his flight was cancelled until next week.

The Honeymoon Phase:

Literally doesn't exist.

Between Russia's problem with communication, and the secretaries lack of her own people skills it was a hot mess for a year or two.

On the outside they seemed extremely happy, even their public behaviors changed. Russia became less violent (give or take the fact the secretary sometimes eggs Russia on to creep the others out when they deserve it or take a joke to far) and the secretary herself seemed to become more positive and out going!

But behind closed doors there is a lot of unsure emotions, and a few... Incidents.

It wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows. There was no Honeymoon Phase were they did nothing but kiss, and cuddle.

They were working on boundaries and communication skills from the very start.

They both agreed to keep their relationship under wraps as they worked on becoming close friends first.

Couple crisis(es):

Oh boy! Both Russia and the secretary have had troubling past and neither of which were ever dealt with properly!

There was one time the secretary was trying to figure out how to go about her more, sexual feelings towards Russia since she has moral codes, but after discovering a country can't legally Marry a human (to Russia's knowledge) she was avoiding him on a field trip the allies took to the zoo, for funsies and moral boost!

This enviably turned into him thinking she didn't care anymore and left early to his hotel room. She followed him there.

Upon arrival he tried to act like he wasn't hurt, since she seemingly wanted to explain and that's when things escalated.

He got mad that she was having a rough time telling him what was happening other than "Things have come up and I can't say why but I just needed time to think". After a little bit of back and forth he had enough and tried to ask her to leave.

Especially because now he felt not only betrayed, but lied to. Bad combo.

In return she panicked thinking it was the last time she'd see him again and begged him to let her stay, and they could sleep on the subject, but push came to shove.

He had her up against a chair, hands around her neck and assaulting her with questions of why she was lying, and why she was truly avoiding him.

Then she went silent. Tears formed from her eyes, and as soon as he let her go she ran from him, running into England where he forced her to go to the hospital for the bruising on her neck.

Happy she was able to convince England to not tell anyone, and to trust her, she was now hellbent even more now on talking to Russia.

He wanted to never see her again, but completely forgot about the meeting that took place the next day. His heart sinking as she wore a scarf around her neck, and the glare that England gave him as he walked in with her told Russia he knew as well.

Ironically he also joined her for lunch out of habit. Where she finally was able to tell her that when he had his hands round her neck she didn't see him. She saw her once to be father.

That didn't exactly sit well with Russia either, not until she told him that what had happened was the evidence that neither of them were ready for that kind of relationship, and the person who choked her, didn't feel like him.

She also finally admitted to not knowing how to deal with her desires and was going through a bought of confusion, and apologized for being cowardly over it.

For the next month when Russia went back to his country they hardly talked. It felt like they hit a hard reset on their relationship

Breaking point in the relationship:

There wasn't ever a point in time that they weren't together, just a handful of violent incidents that lead to them To not talking, or hardly talking.

There was three of them. The second one Russia had a relapse with his emotions, and had a meltdown in his home while the secretary was visiting him.

She heard him in his room and was going to ask if he wanted breakfast at home or wanted to go out.

She caught him feverishly clawing at some scars on his neck, blood seeping out, and covering his clothes and sink.

He allowed himself to only be so vulnerable with her, and this wasn't something he ever planned on showing her. In the past he even lied to her and said his scaring flares up and tears due to him being a country (like england when he gets sick around certain American holidays).

He panicked hard as she tried her best to stay calm and help him clean up. Though he appeared willing, he was really just frozen in fear and anxiety. As she started up a tub for him, she offered to clean his wound and he snapped.

He had her by the wrists begging her not to leave, and not to tell anyone, obviously out of it completely.

She tried not to breakdown as well, knowing his outburst would calm down if she just listened. And it almost worked. He had released her and she went to reach out for something past him, and he took it as her trying to escape, so he pulled her, and shoved her to the door to which she fell.

Something in him gave away and he started telling her to just leave and never come back, only when the tub that had over flowed had he realized how he was reacting.

Fully breaking down he cried at the edge of the tub, water now shut off.

She crawled over to him, leaning against the side of the bath, and waited for his sobs to slow down, not caring that her own clothes had soaked up some of the water on the floor.

Once he calmed down, she started to laugh, and when he finally looked at her she explained how much of a a mess they both were. And how insane she must look.

Russia saw the condition her wrists were in after he grabbed her and straight up said he doesn't care if she stays away or even leaves, she needed to get her wrists looked at.

So she called Estonia, behind his back.

Reconciliation:

This would have been the end of the relationship if it wasn't for some eavesdropping from Russia as Estonia checked out her wrists.

Estonia was aware of Russia's agressive nature, but was surprised he had still harmed her, even by accident.

The secretary could do nothing but defend him, and Estonia pointed out that she was being just as toxic as he was by not being honest about what was really going on between them.

She starts to open up about her fear of losing him. How strong her will to stay with him was, and how willing she was to get hurt every once and a while.

She also shared that he wasn't always like that, and the fact he never intended to hurt her, and she could tell he was just out of control, quite literally, was all she needed to stay.

Russia was on the other side of the wall, listening. His heart sinking as he realized the damage he has caused, and the fact she'd be willing to put up with it made him feel better until Estonia pointed out the biggest flaw in their relationship.

She was human. If she was a country she would have been better off, but if he by chance, even by accident, shook her too hard one day... She won't make it long enough to be with him.

That's something that shook them both to the core, and after she forced Estonia to secrecy and he left, Russia came out from his hiding spot.

He looked at her, and she tried her best to keep eye contact, but couldn't.

He sat next to her, all four walls coming down. Now he's cried over his past, and she's consoled him over it rather easily, but that night she couldn't find the strength to, and just let him weep.

It was painful for her to watch as he raised his hand time and time again to try and touch her in some way, asking for silent forgiveness, but she gave him nothing.

Then he said something that surprised her, and even made her give him a double take.

"I- help me..."

She blinked at him, her senses coming back and she clung to him. She was ready to forgive him, but knew full well that if the next step they took he didn't take seriously, she had no choice but to leave.

Estonia had mentioned couples therapy, and Though Russia was extremely skeptical he agreed.

They had to switch therapist at some point because the first one kept pushing the secretary to leave him, not even giving him a chance to recover from his violent tendencies.

It was a fight that took place in the main lobby, where Russia sat. Tears had filled her eyes and he was about to interrupt when he heard her argue her point.

"He's more than capable! That's what pisses me off is people like you who never get to see him when he's at his highest. It was one or two mistakes, but he's just learning!"

Seeing her fight for him unprompted unlike other times before lite a fire in him. Where she wanted to quite the counselor, he egged her back into the idea, and much to their Surprise, after about three months, they were already cleared for the counseling sessions. Even the therapist expressed his surprise in their quick recovery, and commitment.

There hasn't been any further accidents since then, and Russia has learned to at the very least ask for space when he has an urge he needs to shake off, and she has learned how to word things in a way he can anwser without getting overwhelmed, or leaving him to cool down.

I want to share moooreeee but this was so much already! For those who made it this far, thank you for my Ted talk X.X I'm going to pass out now cause sleep, goodnight ♥️

#hetalia #hws russia #hetalia russia #aph russia #hetalia world stars #hws #aph

[allsassnoclass]

how about “i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside” for muke? xx

Here you are my darling I hope you enjoy it!

Ficmas Day 6

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Michael is woken up at ten in the morning by Mariah Carey passionately singing about what she wants for Christmas, accompanied by a voice that Michael has become unfortunately accustomed to within the past four months.  He groans and flops over, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping for the thousandth time that his neighbor might suddenly lose his voice, or at least lose the ability to blast music when Michael is still trying to sleep.  He’s coming off of the night shift and it’s Christmas Eve.  He should be allowed to actually sleep.

The pillow doesn’t help, so he slaps his hand against the wall as loudly as he can.  That doesn’t seem to help either, and Luke keeps hitting high notes that would be really impressive if Michael wasn’t currently plotting his murder.

Plotting Luke Hemming’s murder is something that Michael does frequently.  He’s never immediately disliked someone so quickly, but Luke is not only a professional at waking him up during what little sleep Michael is trying to get, but he has managed to set off the fire alarm with his cooking failures three times already, he sometimes keeps a bike in the hall that Michael almost always manages to run into no matter where it is, and when he watches TV it’s always bad reality programs at top volume.  His mail continuously somehow ends up in Michael’s slot, and he never says “thank you” when Michael gives it to him.  He has an endless trail of people tramping in and out of his apartment at all hours, but Calum said he got passive-aggressive about buzzing him up when Michael was still in the shower, despite them having met in the lobby multiple times and Luke knowing that Calum is Michael’s emergency contact.

When Michael ran into him during his move-in and said hi, Luke’s dog had growled at him.

Dogs love Michael.

Despite his cherubic blonde curls and dreamy blue eyes, Luke Hemmings might be the devil.  This was only confirmed when he started playing Christmas music and decorating his door the day after Halloween.

Michal isn’t a grinch.  He likes Christmas as much as the next person who grew up celebrating it, but he likes when it’s confined to the proper month.  There’s something to be said about the feel-good movies and lights twinkling against the snow at night, but he works overnights at a 24 hour grocery store, and at this point Christmas music makes him want to claw his ears off.  Luke doesn’t seem to listen to anything else, and he has a wreath and line of jingle bells on his door.  Michael doesn’t even want to see what the inside of his apartment looks like.

His one solace is that today Luke is catching a plane to go back to his parents’ house.  Their bedrooms share a wall, and Michael has heard him making plans to load up Petunia and spend Christmas at his childhood home.  Michael is not so lucky, confined to his apartment for the holiday.

He’s not sure what his plans are yet.  He’s trying not to be too sad about it, but it’s difficult when everyone under the sun is getting to spend it with family and he’s going in for a night shift.

The song on the other side of the wall switches to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”  Michael tries to block out Luke’s self-dueting and viciously stamps down the jealousy bubbling in his gut.

-/-

Luke finally leaves the apartment at 2 pm.  Michael hears him cooing to his dog and the jangle of keys as he locks up, and then the apartment is blessedly silent.  He lays in bed for an hour scrolling through his phone, but eventually seeing everyone’s messages about the holiday and seeing their families becomes too much and he gets up, making his way to the shower.  The apartment is colder than usual, and when he looks out the window he only sees a mass of white, swirling too fast to make out individual flakes.  Chicago seems to be living up to its nickname.  Maybe it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to drive far to get to work tomorrow.  He bundles up in his coziest sweatshirt and sweatpants and his favorite pair of fuzzy socks, anyway.

Michael is getting something to eat when he hears Luke’s voice again, still talking to his dog.  It’s clearly coming from the hallway, and Michael frowns when something thumps, followed by Luke apologizing.  He leaves the plate with his half eaten toast on the counter and presses his ear to the door, trying to make the words take distinct shape.

“... know, girl, but we’re almost back,” Luke says.  “Then we’ll… I don’t know.  We’ll figure something else out, right?  Fuck, where are my fucking keys?”  Something else hits the floor.  Luke sniffs.

“Fuck,” he says, but it’s small and fragile.  Michael hasn’t heard Luke sound defeated before now, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to hear it again.  To know that someone who typically is annoyingly joyful is unable to keep up that demeanor outside the privacy of his own home makes Michael’s heart break a little.

Maybe that’s why he opens the door.  Michael doesn’t know; if he was asked, he’d have to say that he was reaching for the doorknob before his mind caught up with his limbs.

Luke scrambles at the sound, wiping at his eyes.  He’s crouched on the floor, mittens in his hand, a large duffle on the floor next to him and a backpack open in front.  Petunia’s dog crate is blocking part of the hallway.

“Luke,” Michael says.  He doesn't have anything else to say; he didn’t think this far ahead.

“I’ll be quieter,” Luke sniffs.  “Sorry.  Don’t want to ruin your perfect day.”

“That’s not why I’m out here,” Michael frowns.  “It’s just a normal day for me.  Did your flight get cancelled?”

“What do you think?” Luke snaps.  “It’s a blizzard out there.  All flights are grounded until at least tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Michael says.  Luke’s face twists up, and he looks down and takes a breath.  He paws through something in his backpack, but it’s packed in pretty tight and he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, hands falling uselessly after a moment.

“I can’t find my keys,” he says, voice small again.

“Oh.  Do you… you can come and look for them in my apartment, if you want.  Just so you’re not spilling all your stuff in the hallway, you know?”

Luke frowns.

“I guess I could make hot chocolate, too?” Michael offers.  “I mean, it must be pretty cold out there, with the snow and wind and everything.”

“You hate me,” Luke says flatly.

“I know.  Well, I don’t--” he sighs.  Even when he’s trying to do something nice for him, talking to Luke is infuriating.  “Look.  I know that we don’t like each other, but it’s Christmas Eve and your flight was just cancelled.  Do you want hot chocolate or not?”

Luke looks at his backpack, then at the dog crate.

“Can I let Petunia out?”

“Sure, as long as she doesn't growl at me.”

Luke considers for another moment, long enough that Michael has to tamp down the urge to fidget with his sleeves.

“Okay,” he says.  Then, after a delay, “Thanks.”

Michael nods once, then retreats back into his apartment and holds the door open.

Luke gathers up his backpack and drags the dog crate behind him, immediately crouching to undo the clasp once Michael closes the door.

Petunia woofs in the crate while he fumbles with the latch, launching forward and nearly tackling Luke once he finally gets it open.  He hugs her to him, burying his face in her back, and Michael makes himself look away, reaching for the mugs instead and checking to ensure there's water in the kettle before putting it on the stove.

If Luke wants his cocoa made with milk, he can suck it.  Michael hopes he isn't expecting whipped cream, either.

"Can Petunia be on your furniture?" Luke asks, still hugging the wriggling beast.  She's a solid dog.  Michael isn't sure how Luke got her crate down the stairs.

"Sure," he says.  Luke gets her go and she wanders around the apartment sniffing every corner.  Michael hopes he didn't leave any snacks lying around.  He breaks eye contact with the kettle to peer around the corner and ensure that his bedroom door is closed, too.

"So," he says as he gets out two packets of cocoa mix, ripping them open and pouring them into the mugs.  "Where... um, where does your family live?"

He glances at Luke, standing in the middle of the room and looking around with a slight frown on his face.

He could try to seem less judgmental.  Michael's trying to help him out here.

"They're in California," Luke says.  "The northern part."

"Oh.  That'd be a long flight."

"Yeah," Luke says.  He doesn't say anything else and Michael has just about run out of his small talk, so he turns back to the kettle and wills it to heat up faster.  Petunia's dog collar jingles and Michael looks back long enough to see her hop up on the couch next to where Luke has finally sat down.

"You don't have any Christmas decorations up," Luke says.

"Oh," Michael replies.  "No, I guess not."

"Do you not celebrate?  Sorry, I don’t know your religion or anything."

"Not really," he says.  "I mean, I kind of do, but I'm an atheist, and since I can't go home doing Christmas by myself felt depressing.  Calum and I already exchanged gifts."

"Oh," Luke says.  "Where does your family live?"

"St. Louis.  I have a shift tomorrow night, so it didn't seem worth the drive."

"Sorry," Luke frowns.

"S'okay.  Better than trying to go home and having the flight be cancelled."

Luke purses his lips.  Michael hopes he doesn’t start crying.  Thankfully the kettle chooses that moment to squeal, giving Michael something to do besides stare dumbly at Luke.  For someone who spent what was probably a very frustrating and frazzling amount of time at the airport, his hair looks infuriatingly good right now.

"Do you want marshmallows?" he asks.  "They're a little stale."

"Sure," Luke says.  "Thanks."

Michael gets the marshmallows from his cupboard and plops a few into each of their drinks.  He gives Luke the mug his parents got him with his college logo, keeping the Marvel one that Calum bought for himself.  Luke takes the mug with both hands, their fingers touching, and Michael tries not to snatch his hand back.  Petunia leans forward to sniff, making Michael give her a wide berth on the way to his wicker armchair.

"Are you scared of my dog?" Luke asks.  "Look, I know she has some pit bull in her, but that doesn't mean she's a monster.  She's really sweet."

"She growled at me when we met."

"When was that?"

Typical.  Michael isn't even a big enough blip on Luke's radar for him to remember that they met when he moved in.  Sure, Luke probably met a lot of people that day, but Michael lives right next door, and they've obviously seen each other a lot since then.

"When you moved in.  I was leaving for a shift, you were moving boxes around, and she came out and growled at me."

"Huh."  Luke looks at her.  Petunia looks right back, completely unbothered.  "She's really not typically like that.  The stress of the move made her moody.  If you let her sniff you now, she'll let you pet her.  Come on."

He sets down his cocoa and gestures Michael forward.

"Dude, it's not a big deal."

"It is," Luke says.  He looks sincerely distressed.  Michael immediately wants to correct that, like Luke has some sort of weird superpower that makes everyone around him want to keep him happy.  "I want you to like my dog.  She wants to like you, too."

"Fine," Michael says, rolling his eyes.  "I'll meet your stupid dog."

Luke beams.  He has dimples.  Somehow, this is the worst thing that has happened to Michael today.  His insides feel funny, like he swallowed pop rocks.

"Be nice, Piggy," Luke says to the dog.  Michael cautiously holds out his hand, letting Petunia snuffle at it.  Soon enough she must decide that he isn't worth the trouble because she puts her head back down and lets Michael run a hand over her back.

"She really likes it when you scratch behind her ears."

He tries that out, watching the way her ears flick forward and back and how she keeps moving her eyes from him to Luke.  She sighs and smacks her lips twice, kicking out her back leg and stretching further on the couch.

"See?" Luke says.  "She likes you."

Michael smiles, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch so he can continue to pet her.

"I miss dogs," he says.  "I keep wanting to get one, but I work too much right now."

"What is it you do?" Luke asks.  He drinks some of his hot chocolate, pulling a face but going back in for another sip.  MIchael’s not sure if that means his cocoa sucks or is acceptable.

"I work nights at a grocery store, but I babysit for some of the families here, too."

"Really?' Luke asks.

"Don't sound so surprised," Michael snorts.

"Sorry," Luke says.  "You just don't strike me as a kid person."

Michael shrugs.  Luke has a point.  Michael was an only child and he gets tired and grumpy easily.  Still, hanging out with his kids usually isn’t that bad.

"It pays well.  They're little demons, but at this point all of them like me, so it's not too bad.  The hardest thing is pretending to be bad at their video games so they don't get upset because I'm beating them."

“I guess,” Luke says.  “I’m a hairstylist, and our salon is pretty high-end.  We don’t get a lot of kids, thank goodness.  I’d be scared that they’d move and I’d cut off the wrong chunk of hair.”

Huh.  That must be why his hair always looks so good.

“You think my hair looks good?” Luke asks.

Shit.  Michael is too used to being alone in the apartment and allowed to speak all of his thoughts to the air.

He shrugs.

Luke makes a pleased noise and drinks more of his cocoa.  His cheeks look a little red, possibly a side effect of him still wearing his coat even though he’s inside with a warm drink.

Michael goes back to his chair and picks up his own cocoa.  Luke takes a few more sips, but it seems like he has used up most of his small talk, too, although he tries as he goes through his backpack, commenting on the book he tucked in there but probably wouldn’t have read and occasionally cooing at Petunia.  Michael is grateful when he finishes his own drink and can take it to the sink to rinse it, spying his half-eaten toast and taking a bite along the way.

Luke finds his keys quickly, zipped into an outside pocket.

“Thanks for the cocoa, and letting me let Petunia out,” Luke says, standing in the middle of the room again, backpack on and keys in hand.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael replies.  “Hope you have a good Christmas.”

“You too,” Luke says.  Michael looks at everything in the room other than him.  Luke grabs his things, calls to Petunia, and leaves for the apartment next door.

-/-

There’s a knock on Michael’s door a few hours later.  It’s still snowing pretty heavily outside, white flakes standing out against a black sky whenever they pass by a light, so it must be someone in the building.  Michael hopes it’s not someone needing a last-minute babysitter.  He’s still tired and trying to savor his one night off, even if he doesn’t have any plans beyond video games and movies.  He’s going to have to resist shouting at the tv into the early morning now that Luke is home again, but he was still looking forward to it.

Luke is standing outside his door.

“Hi,” Michael says slowly.

“Hey,” Luke says.  “Do you want to have dinner?”

“What?” Michael asks, sure that he heard something wrong or is misunderstanding something.

“I dunno.  You’re here, I’m here, neither of us are doing anything.  I don’t really want to eat alone on Christmas Eve.”

Oh.  Michael hopes for once his pale complexion isn’t betraying him, but he can feel his ears burn.  Luke is not asking him on a date; he’s just bored and lonely.  Luke also has automatically assumed that Michael doesn’t have a life and isn’t doing anything which--while true--is a little offensive.

“Okay,” he shrugs.  “What do you want to eat?”

“Well…” Luke looks down at his feet, ever so slightly pigeon-toed.  He has really nice legs, even when they’re covered in baggy sweatpants instead of the usual skin-tight pants Michael typically spies him in.  “I wasn’t planning on being here for a bit, so I have some pasta but no sauce, or I have pancake mix.  We might be able to walk to the Chinese place at the corner, but I don’t know if they’re open with the blizzard.”

“Pancakes sound good,” Michael says.  “I have some eggs, if you want those.”

“Thanks,” Luke says.  “I have some bread for toast and jam and butter.  That’s a full meal.  Want to come to mine?”

“Sure,” Michael says.  “I’ll get the eggs.”

Michael lets his door swing closed.  He toes on his shoes and grabs his phone, then almost forgets the eggs anyway and has to double back to the kitchen.

He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to walk right in to Luke’s apartment or knock out of politeness.  After a moment of deliberation he chooses the latter, navigating around the wreath to rap his knuckles against the wood, which sends Petunia barking and therefore might have been the wrong choice.  Luke doesn’t seem bothered when he opens the door, though.  He just smiles and steps aside, then tells Petunia to stop.  Petunia actually greets Michael at the door, too, snuffling at his feet before trotting after Luke to the kitchen area.

"Woah," he says involuntarily once he gets a clear look at the apartment.  There's a fake tree in the corner, which he expected, but what takes him aback is the tinsel hanging from the ceiling in green and red, the small Santas and snowmen standing proud on available surfaces like the TV stand, side table, and counter, and the numerous other fake evergreen springs scattered around.  There are Christmas pillows on the couch.  There's a wooden reindeer on the wall.

Michael knew that Luke loved Christmas given the numerous carol-sessions and decorations seen from outside the apartment, but somehow he still hadn't considered that the inside would look like this.

"I got started already," Luke calls from the kitchen.  Michael breaks himself out of his decoration shock and follows him into the small area, looking in the mixing bowl Luke gestures to.  The batter inside doesn't appear to be mixed very well, just milk sitting around a mound of powder.  "I don't know when you usually eat, since you work so late, but I hope you don't mind.  If you hate it you don't have to eat it or whatever; I'm not the best cook and I know that you're just humoring me."

Luke puts his hands on the counter and sighs.

"Sorry.  I'm rambling."

"It's okay," Michael says.  "I prefer rambling to awkward silence."

"I'm great at awkwardness," Luke says.  "I excel at being awkward.  If it's possible to make a situation more awkward, I can do it."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Michael says, eyeing him.  This Luke is different than the Luke Michael so often sees in the hallway.  He's softened by the grey tracksuit he's wearing, hair now pulled half-up, slight embarrassment staining his movements.  This Luke is approachable and comfortable.  Michael thinks he can find his footing here.  The Luke that he interacted with before today is intimidating in his heeled ankle boots and silk shirts.  This one seems like... well, a little like a dork.

Michael reaches for the pancake mix box while Luke takes a fork and starts stirring.

"Hey, did you put an egg in?"

Luke freezes.

"This needs eggs?"

Huh.  This Luke is a dork who is hopeless in the kitchen.

"You weren't underestimating your cooking skills earlier," he says.  "Have you made pancakes before?"

"It was a while ago, okay?" Luke defends.  "I eat out a lot."

"Every self-respecting person should be able to make pancakes," Michael says.  He takes one of the eggs and cracks it over the bowl, Luke pausing in his mixing to give him room.  Thankfully, Luke seems to have a griddle plugged in and warming up.  Michael thinks it probably was a housewarming present that doesn't get much use.

"What kind of eggs do you want?" Michael asks.

"Uh, scrambled."

"How many?"

"You choose."

Michael has never cooked with Luke.  Michael has never seen Luke eat and therefore doesn't know his appetite.  Michael has no clue what to do with that answer.

"Can I have a pan?" he asks.

"Sure," Luke says distractedly, forcefully stabbing at the egg in his mixing bowl to break the yoke.  "They're right over there."

He kicks his leg out towards one of the lower cabinets, right behind where Petunia has taken up residence.

"Hey Petunia, want to move?" he asks her, crouching and slowly opening the drawer.  She stares at him.  He scratches behind her ears and continues to pull the drawer out as far as he can, but it's not far enough.  Eventually she must find the drawer pushing into her back more inconvenient than shifting her position, because she heaves herself up and leaves to sit by her food dish in the corner instead.

"Is this mixed enough?" Luke asks.  He tilts the bowl and Michael cranes his neck to see.  The fact that Luke is asking him at all is weird, because Michael himself isn't exactly in the running for a Michelin star, but there's something to be said about the easy way Luke has admitted his weakness here and turned to Michael for help.  Michael himself would probably just keep messing stuff up rather than admit he needed guidance.

"Um, it's a little lumpy still."

Luke sighs and begins mixing again.  Michael finds a suitable pan and begins cracking eggs.

True to his promises, Luke keeps rambling all throughout the dinner-making process.  He talks about his favorite foods and his friends and asks Michael if they can add chocolate chips to half the pancakes, as if Luke is the guest here instead of Michael.  When he remembers to catch his breath, he asks Michael about himself, seeking the information he had already ended up word-vomiting.  It's a lot more endearing than Michael thought it would be.  For how annoying he finds Luke, there's something endlessly charming about hearing him nervously spout facts about himself.  It's even more charming when he doesn't reprimand Michael for eating some chocolate chips straight out of the bag.

He manages to get batter on his nose halfway through the cooking process.  When Michael points it out, Luke's cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and Michael makes himself turn to start the toast.

The pancakes land themselves on a plate and Luke gets out another two for them to use.  Michael splits the eggs between them and Luke hands out the toast, then they take two of the stools at the counter to eat.

They're not exactly the best pancakes he's ever eaten, but they're not bad at all.  They're made even better by the fact that Michael isn't eating them alone.

Being on a different schedule than everyone else and living alone means that the vast majority of his meals are spent by himself, typically with the tv on just to give a bit of noise.  While Luke turns on the radio softly, Michael barely registers it, too busy listening to Luke's stories of the salon and countering with tales from the night shift at the grocery.  It's deceptively easy to keep conversation flowing between them.

Before Michael has taken his first bite of pancake, he's already decided that hating Luke was a stupid decision.

Of course, Luke is just lonely on Christmas Eve.  While he's smiling and laughing hard enough at things Michael says to sometimes duck forward, close enough to rest his head on Michael's shoulder if he wanted, there's no guarantee that something like this will ever happen with them again.

Michael chews his last few bites slowly.

“Hey,” Luke says as he’s putting the plates in the sink, where the mixing bowl and pan are already taking up residence, “do you want to stay for a bit?  If you don’t have work or anything?  I usually watch some movies on Christmas Eve, but if you don’t want to we can do something else, like…”  He looks around his apartment, biting his lip.  Michael does not stare.  “I have some decks of cards?  We can have more hot chocolate?”

“I’d be down for a movie,” Michael says.  Luke's shoulders slump in relief.  It makes Michael feel better that Luke would be relieved over him staying.  He's astoundingly easy to read up close, emotions flickering over his face and seeping into his body language to create an open book.  It makes it easier to believe that Luke was asking out of a genuine desire to keep his company, rather than misplaced politeness or simple loneliness.

"Great!" Luke says.  "Awesome."

"What do you usually watch?" Michael asks.

"Uh, the Lord of the Rings."

That wasn't what Michael was expecting.  Honestly, he was betting on Elf.

"Like, all three?  Isn't that twelve hours?"

"We usually have them going right after lunch.  I think my parents hoped that watching would tire us out so we wouldn't wake them up early to open presents before church."

"Did it work?" Michael asks.

"Nope," Luke grins.  "Jack--one of my brothers--always ensured we were awake when the sun rose."

"If I had a brother wake me up that early, I would kill him," Michael says.

"Not me.  I wanted him to," Luke says.  "I loved running to the living room and seeing all of the presents and our stockings lined up.  I didn't want to wait a moment more than I had to."

Michael tries to picture a younger Luke Hemmings running excitedly to look under his Christmas tree, early rays of dawn streaming in through a window and fresh snow on the ground.

He doesn't know what Luke looked like back then.  It puts a damper on things, but the image is soaked in nostalgia and happiness regardless.

"If you wake me up early tomorrow it'll be the last thing you do, but we can watch Lord of the Rings," he says.  Luke grins.

"Can we make a blanket fort, too?" he asks.

"What are you, six?"

Luke's face immediately crumples.

Shit.

"No, not like that!  It's not a bad thing!" he backpedals.  "Like, I'm just teasing.  I do it with all of my friends.  If Calum had asked I'd have said the same thing even though I want to."

Luke eyes him critically.

"We're friends now?"

Michael rubs at his chest.  He hadn't even thought before he had said that.  He shouldn't have assumed.  If Luke hadn't warmed up to him in the entirety of their four months as neighbors, why should one night make any difference?

"I guess," he says.  "Why not?  I gave you eggs."

"Yeah, a true sign of friendship," Luke says dryly.

Fuck.  He fucked this up.

"I should go," he says, starting for the door.  Luke lurches into motion, catching his arm as he passes.  It sends goosebumps erupting across his skin, freezing him in his tracks.

"Wait, don't," Luke says.  "Sorry.  We're friends.  Don't go, please.  I didn't--we're friends.  I want us to be friends."

He releases Michael's arm, and Michael feels like he can breath again.

"We're really bad at this," he says.  It makes Luke laugh, lifting at least half the heaviness in the air.  "We're friends, we're going to make a fucking blanket fort, and we're going to watch Lord of the Rings.  Right?"

"Right," Luke says.

"Good.  Let's get started on that blanket fort."

Luke's definition of a blanket fort is more of a nest.  They don't have anything tall enough to prop up a ceiling unless they take the cushions they need to use as a floor, even with Michael going back to his own apartment to bring pillows and blankets.  In the end, Luke moves his small coffee table and they simply pile as much padding and blankets as they can find in front of the couch.  Luke pops a bag of popcorn and offers beverages.  Once he gets settled Petunia flops down next to him, leaving Michael to set up the movie with Luke giving directions, since neither of them could disturb Petunia in good conscience.

Luke ends up disturbing her anyway to take her outside for the bathroom so she doesn't interrupt the movie.

Being alone in Luke's apartment with no distraction is strange, so he takes out his phone and texts Calum.

To Calpal: im in lukes apartment we had pancakes and now we are watching lord of the rings

From Calpal: ???? hot mean neighbor luke?

To Calpal: yeah his flight was cancelled

From Calpal: ????????????? I thought you hated him

To Calpal: hes kinda a dork cant cook for shit his dog likes me now hes kinda funny too we are officially friends

From Calpal: ??????????????????????

Luke’s door opens, and Michael has to scramble for the popcorn so Petunia won’t be able to get at it while Luke takes off his boots and jacket.

To Calpal: g2g tell you later

“Hey, Petunia,” Michael says when she presses against him, stretching for the popcorn he’s holding out of reach.  He runs a hand over her back, fur cold and damp.  “Is it still snowing?”

“A little,” Luke calls.  “I think it’ll stop soon.”  He gets the main light, leaving a lamp on a side table lit, then flops down on the blankets and cushions, shoulder knocking Michael’s briefly.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Luke presses play, and the opening instrumental and Galadriel’s narration fills the small apartment.

Luke is chatty during movies.  Michael would be more annoyed by it if this wasn’t clearly a movie he had seen millions of times before with a million memories to accompany.  Besides, when Michael says he’d like to be a hobbit so he could snack all the time, Luke makes another bag of popcorn for him without asking.

“Do you think--” he asks, then stops.  On screen, the Fellowship arrives at Lothlorien.

“Do I think what?” Michael prompts.

“Do you think I’ll be able to go home tomorrow?”

Michael looks at him, lounging back on the cushions with one of the blankets pulled around him.  He let his hair down, curls shadowing his face a bit more in the low light.

“Yeah, if the snow stops,” he says.  “But if not… if you’re still lonely, you can hang out with me until I go to work.”

“Really?” Luke asks.

“Yeah, why not,” Michael says.  “If you’re not sick of me, I don’t have any plans.  I was just going to play video games.”

Luke smiles at him.

“I like video games.”

“Great.  We’ll play video games.”

Michael turns back to the movie, but Luke’s hand snakes over a snoring Petunia and grabs his own.

“Thank you,” he says.  “Really.  You’ve made what would’ve been a really shit time into a surprisingly nice Christmas.”

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” Michael says, feeling his cheeks heat up.  Thankfully Luke won’t be able to see it in the low light.

“You’ll make that nice, too.”

Michael squirms under his attention.  It feels too nice, and that’s something he can’t afford to consider right now.

“Um, I think there’s an important scene coming up,” he says.  Luke squeezes his hand again, but returns his attention back to the screen.  

Michael is the one to put the second movie in, because Luke is still sniffling over the ending of the first.  Michael’s not sure if he’s allowed to tease him for it, especially when his own eyes welled up.  He cries over movies pretty easily, and there’s something to be said about the loyalty and love packed into the last piece of the story, something that Michael occasionally wonders if he’ll ever find.

He comes close with Calum, but Calum also has a roommate and boyfriend.  Michael wouldn’t mind another person to love, too.

“I think this one is my least favorite,” Luke says drowsily when Michael presses play.  “Too much Gollum.  He used to give me nightmares as a kid.”

“Really?” Michael asks.  Luke nods.

“That, and the scene in the first one where they’re making the Uruk-hai and they appear from the mud.”

“When I was young, I had lots of nightmares about showing up to school in my underwear and everyone laughing at me.  It would happen once a week.  I started ditching school because it made me too nervous.”

Luke hums.

“I wouldn’t have laughed at you.”

“It was middle school.  Everyone would’ve laughed.”

“Not now,” Luke says.  “I know you now.  I’d wait until I knew you were okay to laugh.”

“Thanks,” Michael says.  Luke nods.   He keeps sinking lower and lower into the blankets, eyelids drooping more every time Michael checks on him.  Michael himself would still be in the middle of his shift at the grocery store on a typical day, and he could keep going for hours.  The relaxed atmosphere they’ve formed might let him clock out early, though.

They watch most of this movie in silence, Luke’s commentary diminishing more and more as the movie wears on.  There are a few times where Michael thinks he’s finally fallen asleep and he should take his leave, but then Luke will shift or say something else.

“Michael?” he asks eventually, voice small and eyes closed.  He’s curled on his side facing him, giving up any pretence of continuing to watch.

“Hm?”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“Sure,” he says.  Luke smiles and snuggles deeper into the blanket.  His breathing evens out more, slipping seamlessly into sleep.  Michael looks at the way his eyelashes brush his cheeks, savoring the unguarded expression on his face.  He’s almost ethereal like this, as fair and otherworldly as the elves on the tv but twice as captivating.

Michael puts the third movie in once it’s time.  He’s asleep within ten minutes.

-/-

Michael wakes disoriented, tangled in multiple blankets and propped on too many pillows.  There’s noise somewhere near him, someone else shuffling and the rustle of a jacket being put on, but it doesn’t feel out of place.  This person isn’t an enemy breaking in.

“Wha?” he asks, trying to turn towards the noise.

“Sorry, sorry,” Luke murmurs.  “I’m going to try to see if I can get to church.  Go back to sleep.”

Soft fingers brush his hair to the side, lingering.  He leans into the touch before it’s gone.

He rolls over and goes back to sleep.

-/-

The smell of coffee draws him fully out of sleep a while later.  Michael blinks and does his best to detangle himself, sitting up and looking around groggily until he processes Luke standing at the counter, mug in hand.  It’s a sight that Michael could get used to if he was allowed.  He’s in his typical jeans and fancy shirt, a juxtaposition to yesterday, and Michael isn’t sure what that means about the dorky guy who wanted to make a blanket fort rather than the one who always brushed by Michael in the hallway.

He clears his throat.  Luke’s answering grin is wide and familiar.

“Hi,” he says.

“Good morning,” Luke says.  “Afternoon.  Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he hums.  “Coffee?”

Luke pours another mug, offering Michael cream and sugar.  He brings it over, and this time when their fingers brush over the mug Michael doesn’t feel the need to snatch his hand away.

“How was church?” he asks.

“It was good,” Luke says.  “The plows were out overnight, so I was only a little late.”  He looks down at his mug, fingertip tracing the rim.  “I wish I had been able to go with my family.  It’s fine though.  Mum will probably have us go on Sunday.”

Michael nods.

“I, uh, got a message from the airport, too.  My flight got rescheduled.  I’m going to have to leave in about an hour.”

“Oh,” Michael says.

“Sorry.”

“What?  No, this is a good thing.  I’m glad you get to go home,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound too disappointed.  He had been looking forward to spending part of the day with Luke more than he thought, and to have that taken away from him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Guess we’re going to have to reschedule the video games,” Luke says.

“Yeah.”

“Or,” he says, “we could go on a date?”

Michael gives himself whiplash with how quickly he looks up.

“I, uh, don’t know if you even like guys,” Luke says, “but I’ve had a lot of fun with you, and I’ve always thought you were cute.”

“I thought you didn’t like me until yesterday.”

Luke shrugs.

“I can think you’re hot and be frustrated about it at the same time.”

Michael nods because yeah, that tracks.  Michael has never kidded himself about how nice Luke is to look at, even when he was cursing his name for waking him up with Christmas carols.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah, you agree that you’re hot and frustrating?  Or--”

“Yeah, let’s go on a date.  Or stay in on a date.  Whatever you want.”

Luke grins.  Michael hides his smile behind his cup of coffee, but Luke can probably see it anyway.

“Want some pancakes?” Luke asks.  “We have the leftovers from yesterday.”

“If you can handle heating them up.”

Luke swats at him on the way past and Michael tries to trip him in retaliation.  It almost works, earning him a reproachful look that he responds to with a wink.  Luke ducks his head.

Michael is going to flirt with him so hard in the future.  He can’t wait to see Luke’s face turn different shades of pink.

They have to clean up the blanket fort after breakfast, and by then Luke barely has time to get Petunia ready before needing to leave.  Michael offers to drive him to the airport, but Luke says Petunia rides best in his car, and he’d rather park it at the airport so he doesn’t have to call for a ride home.

Luke walks him to his door, even though it’s only a few feet away.

“Hey,” he says.  “Thanks again for making me pancakes and watching movies with me, and for inviting me in for hot chocolate earlier.  I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad you said yes,” Michael says.  “Let me know when you get back.”

“I will.”

“Have a good time,” Michael says.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Michael.”

Luke leans forward and kisses his cheek.  When he steps back, he’s smiling again.  Michael mirrors it and stays standing in front of his door until Luke has disappeared into his.

His apartment feels small and empty after sharing Luke’s for the night.  There’s no pillow fort spread on the floor nor dog lounging on the couch.

Of course, Luke’s apartment will be empty soon, too.  He’ll be with his family, enjoying Christmas day with them, while Michael’s own parents will be without him for the first year since he was born.

He brings out his phone and dials his home number, listening to it ring a few times before someone picks up.

“Michael?  How are you?  Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Mum,” he says.

“Oh, we miss you, darling,” she says.  “We wish you could be here.  Are you still having an alright time?”

“I actually am,” he says.  “I, uh, was celebrating with someone this morning.  Have I mentioned my neighbor Luke?”

“No, I don’t think you have.  Why don’t you tell me about him?”

Michael gets comfortable on his couch and tells his mother all about spending Christmas with Luke Hemmings.

#my writing #muke #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020 #MUKE! muke #conceptually I've been digging them a lot recently so this was nice to write #also I say that calum has a boyfriend and a roommate.......... #in my head one is roy and one is Ashton. flip a coin for which is which there is no roy disrespect in this house

[ashestoashesjc]

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend On A Couple's Retreat

Short Story 1/2/(3)/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

"RrRRrrrr... grrr? <Hey, uh, babe... seen my arm anywhere?>" rang Sett's voice throughout their cigar box of a house as he rummaged through closets, opened cabinets, overturned couch cushions. 

Shutting and latching the front door behind him, Ulrick began flipping through the stack of envelopes clutched in his right hand. "Huh? Oh…”

“Okay, so… don’t get mad,” Ulrick began, as meekly and guilt-tinged as one can make a shout. “But... there was this huge, I mean HUGE silverfish…” 

“GRrrr! Rrrrr. <Dude! Not cool,>” could be heard as Sett stomped his way to the foyer. 

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m weak!” moaned Ulrick. 

Sett sighed as he entered the cove and laid his single remaining hand on Ulrick’s left shoulder, the other sleeve draped flaccidly at his side. “Grrrr. <Well, yeah.>” he said. Ulrick snickered. 

“You know, having your boyfriend kill a bug for you is exceedingly normal,” Ulrick said, separating the bills from the letters that weren’t bills. There were very few that weren’t bills. “Almost conventional.” 

“Rrr. <True,>” Sett replied. “Rggrrrr. <Probably while the arm’s still attached, though.>”

“A mere quibble.” 

“Rrrrgrrr? <So, where is it now?>” Sett asked. 

“Ugh. Still getting cozy with the silverfish, I’d imagine,” Ulrick admitted, guilt creeping back into his voice. He covered his eyes with his free hand and shuddered. “In… the shower.”

Sett sucked air through his teeth in a compassion-filled cringe. 

“Yeah,” Ulrick sighed, resigned to his trauma. 

“Grrrr. <Don’t worry,>” said Sett. “Rraarr. <I got it.>” 

Ulrick slid his hand down his face with a grateful groan. “God, I love you.” Sett pulled him forward by his collar and pecked his forehead.

Continuing to sort through the mail, Ulrick came to a red envelope and, seeing it addressed to Sett, handed it over. “Looks important.”

Confusion clouded Sett’s eyes for the first few, slow moments spent undoing the envelope’s seal flap, until suddenly, a surge of realization like lightning drove him to violently tear the crimson paper away.

As he scanned the contents of the letter contained within, words failing to do his emotional state justice, Sett began to fist pump wildly, God help anyone in the flight path of his singular elbow. Ulrick looked on in entranced bewilderment.

“Was there itching powder in that envelope?” asked Ulrick.

Sett shoved the creased letter in Ulrick’s face, his manic energy not yet dissipated. Ulrick took it and held it out at arm’s length until his eyes brought the words into focus. 

“A couple’s retreat?” he wondered aloud, lowering the paper enough to peer over the top at Sett.  

“Grrgrrrr. <An all-expenses paid couple’s retreat.> Rrrrrr. <At a swanky resort.> GrrrrRr. <Complete with water skis.>”

“This is from a contest?” he asked, rotating and inspecting the sheet. “When did we enter a contest?”

“Rrggrrrr? <You know those entry slips we’re getting in the post all the time?>”

“The ones I’m always throwing away? I’m familiar.” 

“RrrRrrrrr ggrrrr. <Well, your aim could use some work, because some of them wind up in the mailbox,>” said Sett, with a shrug.

The sound that next filled the room, colored with exasperated mirth, was one Sett was used to Ulrick making, though one that never stopped bringing a flush of heat to the place where his heart used to be. 

He grabbed Ulrick by the hips and the two began to sway back and forth. “Rrrrrr. <Just imagine it,>” he purred dreamily. “GrrrRRrrrr rrrrRrrr grrr...arrrr? <Massages, rock-climbing, a luau. And… did I mention waterskiing?>”

Swaying still, Ulrick looked up with his head cocked. "I've... never heard you mention waterskiing before."

"GrrRrrrrrr. <I enjoy a lot of things I don't talk about.> Rgrrrrgrrr. <Like country music, or bad chick lit,>" Sett said before twirling and dipping Ulrick in a blur. "Rraarrrr. <I'm a multi-layered zombie.>"

Breaking clumsily away from the songless dance and squeezing the bridge of his nose, Ulrick set down the remainder of the mail on the side table by the entrance and looked his boyfriend over. “It’s totally free?”

“Grrarrr. <It’s totally free,>” confirmed Sett. 

Ulrick raised an eyebrow. “No catch?” 

“Rrr… <Well…>”

-

“And streeetch! That’s right! Streeetch!” 

At the front of Meadow Grove Resort’s famed yoga studio balanced - one foot planted on the ground, the other hooked deftly behind her neck - Chrysanthemum Smith, a remarkably limber 60-year-old instructor, urging her out-of-shape contest winning students to achieve the same feats of flexibility.   

All around Ulrick and Sett, a pretzel factory’s soon-to-be-discarded collection of heinous, gnarly undesirables had been given life in the form of sweaty middle Americans. 

That pretzels went through a less agonizing process being baked at 500 degrees was a fact Ulrick was both confident in and envious of. His legs were angled in a way he was sure he’d feel for weeks to come. 

Sett, on the other hand, had apparently been a contortionist in a past life, the way he bent himself into poses, well, a pretzel would gawk at, holding each position stoically before moving gracefully on to the next. It also helped that he couldn’t feel what would leave most tendons shredded rags.

Ulrick gave up the pursuit of dislocating his pelvis and instead went to poke Sett in the cheek. Through his mask, Sett made a chomping motion at the finger, though remained otherwise totally still. "Okay, but this kind of bites, right?" Ulrick signed. 

"A little. And not in the fun way," Sett signed back.

On a pair of blue, rubber mats to their left were two women - one in a biker's jacket and tattered, patched jeans, short red hair tied into a haphazard ponytail; the other a dark woman donning a shaved head, flower-patterned maxi dress, and combat boots - the former of whom suddenly grabbed Ulrick's attention with a nod. 

"You're telling me," she signed. 

And in an instant, they were no longer alone in the hazy, secluded sphere that made their reality.

So taken aback was he that he blurted aloud, "You sign?" 

The yoga instructor shushed him from her place at the head of the wide room, leading him to duck down sheepishly. With the forced inclusion of an overly casual air, he said more than asked, "You sign."

"Oh, yeah," the woman chuckled gruffly. "Mom's Deaf." 

Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Sett's head swiveled to the leather jacket-clad woman. "Shit yeah!" he signed with fervor, eliciting a harsh snort from the woman. The instructor's head whipped around to glare her way, but went ignored. 

Sett's hands jumbled for a moment before he continued. "I mean, I'm sure that must have been very difficult for your family and--"

She gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's capital 'D' Deaf. A congenital thing. Whole family's been signing forever."

Her wife - Jen, they later learned - chimed in with, "Di does it at home, too. She's taught me half the lyrics to Boys for Pele." 

"Wow!" Ulrick said with teeth-clenching enthusiasm. "That's so great! Isn't that so great, Sett?"

The mask did nothing to conceal Sett's raised, beaming features. "That's so great!" he signed. 

"I'm sorry!" bellowed the lithe yogi, shattering all delusions of serenity. "Am I boring you?" 

Several overlapping voices came to the general consensus of "Christ, yes."

One of the husbands, portly and somewhat resembling the famously affable capybara, asked, somewhat less affably, why they were being stretched into taffy when they should be outside taking one-on-one lessons with the beach volleyball instructor. He was joined by a few surly “yeah!”s. 

They were met with an unimpressed crossing of the arms. Though it should be noted Smith’s foot was still being held comfortably behind her head. 

"I would suggest, in the future, that you more closely scrutinize contest entries," Yogi Smith advised in as calm a manner as it seemed she could now manage, though with an unmistakable edge to her voice. "In order to partake in our facility’s more... physically involved activities, you’ll first need to align and cleanse your mental, emotional, and spiritual energies.”

This provoked a studio-wide groan, with the exclusion of Jen, who seemed just eager enough to cancel out the cloud of grim impatience encircling her. 

“Unless, of course,” Smith said, shifting poses to something favoring the letter ‘G’, “you’d prefer to construct your own schedules. In which case, a full price admission to Meadow Grove Resort remains available.”

She sleekly extended her right leg, pointing its foot pin-straight toward the sliding studio doors. “Don’t, as the masters of yore were wont to say, let the door hit ya.” 

When no one moved and the room went quiet enough to hear an acupuncture needle drop, Smith resumed a standing position and bowed three times to each division of the studio. “Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.” 

Chrysanthemum Smith had in no way undersold how ‘aligned and cleansed’ couple’s therapy and its airings of dirty laundry and subsequent ferocious dissolutions of decades of marriage; couple’s pottery, the same thing but with clay vases; and couple’s finger-painting, a bonding exercise in shared humiliation, would make their minds, emotions, and souls through sheer gut-rending hilarity.

Ulrick almost didn’t want to stop watching people who, hours ago, seemed all confidence and bravado, now being brought to tears by an instructor’s criticism of their macaroni art lacking ‘depth.’ 

But their confinement was over and they were free to roam the grounds as they saw fit and Sett, without even feigning to look for a map of the resort, made a beeline for the largest body of water (and the largest gathering of humans) he could sniff. Ulrick was still surprised at times by how agile Sett could be on his feet when on the hunt for blood - or recreational watersports - and struggled to keep up. 

Their long-awaited waterskiing adventure began almost as soon as they arrived at the lakeside, the instructor needing a volunteer at that instant to man the skis while he lectured another guest on the controls of the boat. At nearly a head taller than anyone else present, Sett didn’t need much more than a raised hand to stand out. 

Things were going great; Sett mounted on skis as long as he was tall, the boat revving greedily for take off. At Sett’s thumbs up, the runabout hammered off in a thunderous roar. And then, all at once, things were going wrong. 

The envisioned majesty of skimming the motionless calm of the crystal river was halted abruptly with a leaden Sett stumbling mid-lake in his skis, trying and failing to correct himself, going feet-over-head, and sinking like an anchor to the agitated silt of the riverbed below. 

Ulrick, though he jumped with concern at the first hint of a misstep, expected a brief swim back, perhaps slowed a bit - but not much - by Sett's stoney limbs. He’d been the star diver of his local swimming hole as a teen and still maintained some of the underwater dexterity, though nowadays tended to lurk the floors of bodies of water like a carnivorous bottom-feeder; eating habits included.

But then a few minutes passed, and nothing. A lifeguard and two of the more experienced swimmers among the guests plunged into the river and searched for fifteen minutes, cracking the surface now and again for a gulp of air, all to no avail. The water was too cloudy with sediment to see past a certain depth, and the orange-purples of dusk were beginning to settle in. They'd need to return in the morning with a diving team.

It'd now been forty-five minutes, and three of the resort’s other guests were consoling Ulrick, one herself on the verge of waterworks. They'd just witnessed a man - someone's significant other - torn tragically from life's teat, and in front of the man he loved, no less. 

Ulrick, for his part, was positively miffed. 

"When I get my hands on him..." Ulrick started, before one of the grievers tossed him a teary-eyed questioning look. "Er, that is... would that I could only put my hands on him... again..." he corrected. 

Just as Ulrick had begun mentally reviewing the basics of the Arts of Throttling, a movement, barely noticeable, shook the surface of the lake. Then bubbles, then the full break of the water as a head rose into view. Then the screams of onlookers as, in the fading light, a ghastly lake monster began its murderous approach. Then screams of a different kind as people began to make the connection proper. Then there was weeping, fainting, more than one declaration of faith renewed. It was a miracle!

Later, after insistences for medical attention were politely but firmly refused and the religious stragglers begging for just a smell of Sett’s waterlogged clothes were shooed away, Ulrick asked why he waited so long to resurface, to which Sett said, "GrrrrRRrr. <Well, at first I was just sort of embarrassed.> RrrrrrrGrrrRrrr? <Then I thought, "How often do these people see miracles?>"

"Oh, sure," groaned Ulrick. "A man comes out of a lake after half an hour and it's a miracle. A man comes out of a grave after a few months and it's "Grab the torches and pitchforks, everyone!""

"Rrrr. <Babe.>"

Ulrick gave a pouty grumble. "I'm just saying. One's a little more miraculous, is all." 

Sett pulled Ulrick's head into his chest and stroked his hair. "GrrrRrrrRrrr. <Shh, I know, dude, I know.>" His heavy, soaked clothes and lack of body heat didn't chill Ulrick as much as they should have, and though a fine coating of sand covering him from head to toe gritted against Ulrick's cheek, it only made Ulrick rub his face in rebelliously. 

"Okay," Ulrick said, resting his fists on Sett's chest and gazing up into his eyes. "What's the next activity? I think we’re... due-au for a luau?" The moment the words left his lips, his face collapsed into disgusted regret.

“Rgrrr... <Actually…>” Sett said, wrenching off his mask and shaking the excess water from his hair, teasing a blush out of Ulrick. “GgrrrRrrrr? <Doesn’t watching the stars by the lake sound pretty relaxing?>”

Ulrick grinned and took a seat on the shoreline, running his hands through the tufts of ryegrass stretching out in waves around him. He tapped a spot to his right and Sett, half-cocked smile in tow, came lumbering over to take it. 

Hours flurried past, changing nothing about the image of the intimately silent pair but the number of stark white pinpricks in the sky they beheld. 

They threatened to sit silently basking in each other forever. 

And then Sett said, “GRrrrrgrrr, rrgrrr, graargrr. <So, Diane and Jen gave me their number, and they want to plan an outing.>” 

Unease shot through Ulrick’s veins, but he held his tongue in search of the correct words. “O-oh?” 

“Grrr? Rrgrrrrr. <Isn’t that cool? People want to spend time with us,>” said Sett, ensorcelled with the twinkle of every new star. “Rrrrr. <With me.>”

“That might be…” began Ulrick, before noticing the glimmer in Sett’s eyes and faint lift at the corners of his mouth as he stared up towards a great unknown. He sighed. “It’s going to be great.” 

Sett rested his hand on Ulrick’s, their fingers interlocking. He smiled, and the two gazed into an ever-darkening firmament, speckled with a thousand stars and a thousand futures. 

#A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend #short stories #supernatural #mlm #wlw #queer #series #A Necromance #original #fiction

[elareine]

What do you think of Jason being the youngest?

So I thought ‘Does that mean that he’s Damian’s age and Damian is his age?’ and this happened. Thanks for the question <3

This Jason has different expectations about being Robin. It’s difficult to think that Robin is magic when the second Robin once stabbed a man in front of your door.

All the kids in Gotham know the Robins. The adults might talk about Batman and Superman; the kids, they gather all the intel they can about the bright birds and share it like precious marbles.

The first Robin—he made everything look easy and fun. Robin II died and he came back, how amazing is that? Robin III always gets up again and makes a joke while he’s at it. Also, long pants, a good choice. And Robin IV... Well, she’s Jason’s favorite. Do not tell his brothers that.

In hindsight, trying to steal the tire caps off the batmobile wasn’t Jason’s greatest idea. At the moment, however, all he can think of is: Whoever Batman is, he clearly has money. Bruce Wayne backs him. He can afford some fucking tires, and Jason just wants to sleep in a shelter for one night, maybe get some food. He needs to start thinking of the winter months. Fall’s short and Gotham’s winters are cruel.  

There’s a polite cough behind him. “Excuse me?”

When Jason whirls around, two men are standing there. Jason vaguely recognizes the older one—maybe from a magazine cover? He’s ridiculously handsome. The other one is about the same height and built, but younger, darker-skinned, and dressed in infinitely more taste.

At least they look amused. Jason doesn’t think he’s gonna be beaten up today, especially when the first man just asks: “What—What were you thinking, stealing tires off that car?”

“Why are you so interested in what I’m doing?” Jason asks back. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you, does it?”

The older man chuckles. “Every citizen must interfere if they witness a crime.”

“Can tell you’re not from around here, then.”

“Still.”

Jason drops the tire cap with some reluctance. There goes his dinner. “Fine. Here you go.”

The younger bends over and pics up the cap, screwing it back in with surprising ease. The older man is still looking at Jason, though. “You know, we could bring you to a good home for kids like you.”

“Been there, done that. The last one tried to turn us into criminals.”

The younger man tilts his head to the side and glances at the crowbar in Jason’s hands.

“That’s to eat! I’m not going to run drugs for anyone.” Jason juts out his chin. “I’m not going back there again.”

“Oh, boy,” the older man sighs, and then he says: “Okay, you know what? Get in.”

And then he pulls out the keys to the Batmobile.

“Richard—” the younger man says. There’s a look of resignation on his face, though.

“It’s what B would’ve done,” Richard replies and looks at Jason. “How about you come with us, then?”

And look. Jason knows that you shouldn’t get into a car with strangers. He knows. But it’s the Batmobile, what the fuck is he supposed to say? ’No?’

Apparently, though, Batman is dead? Except that Dick Grayson, aka Robin I, and Damian Wayne, Robin II, took over in his stead. And now Jason gets to be Robin! Robin!

Tim… he doesn’t take it well. Jason gets that, honestly. He probably wouldn’t react well to being replaced, either. Dick insists that’s not it, but, you know. Seems to Jason like Tim has his own issues to deal with, honestly.

(It’s okay. Once Tim is done with his whole eat-pray-beat people up-spiel and brings Bruce back, they become friends. Jason finds out that Tim took over as Robin when he saw Bruce fall apart after Damian’s death and has worried about his place ever since. It’s been bad enough ever since Damian came back, especially since those two do not get along. Seeing Jason arrive was just the last straw.)

Robin is blood and sweat and pain, and Jason loves it. No matter who’s wearing the cowl, Jason is there, a bright distraction, a valuable ally, a spark of color in Gotham’s darkness.

He would never tell Dick, but he prefers working with Bruce. They just click. Jason likes making the older man laugh; he has too many worry lines already.

And yeah, okay, as he gets older, he chafes under Bruce’s rules sometimes. Bruce doesn’t get that some people need to stay down. Despite everything, he’s always been able to go back to his manor and live there. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to live right where all the crime happens.

When that happens, though, Dick is there to tell him anecdotes about the time Bruce and he screamed at each other so much Alfred actually quit. Damian lets him debate the ethics of killing serial offenders with him—his perspective is fascinating, even if Jason doesn’t always agree, and he never treats Jason like a child. Cass joins them occasionally.

And if it still gets too much, Jason can hide at Steph’s place. She always tells Bruce to fuck off when he asks if Jason’s there.

When his mother (his mother) contacts him, he doesn’t go alone. Well, not for lack of trying. But Tim, the fucking stalker that he is, found out, and then he and O went ballistics on Sheila’s digital footprint until they found all the dirt.

They tell Jason that it’s a trap. He refuses to cancel the meeting. Damian actually agrees with that decision (he knows about mothers), but it also means that everyone in the family ‘subtly’ follows him to Ethiopia. Jason books a commercial flight and then has to watch everyone else sit in first class.

Meeting his mother… it is what it is. The Joker tries to divide them, sure—he’s done it before, he’ll do it again. But O’s voice is in their heads, telling them to under no circumstances let Jason go anywhere alone, and Damian sticks to him like a shadow.

“I refuse to let anyone else die in that hideous costume,” is all he says.

“It’s better than your emo version.”

When Sheila calls for their help, they come. Of course. It’s what Robins do.

It gets ugly. Even Flamebird and Robin have difficulties dealing with the Joker when he’s had time to prepare. There’s a crowbar, and a bomb, and too much blood, and Jason passes out.

When Jason comes to just minutes later, he’s next to the burning warehouse. Damian is holding him up, bleeding. Jason is pretty sure that half his own side is burned. He probably has a concussion from the way his head’s feeling like taffy. Whatever. He’ll live.

“Hey,” he asks Damian as they stare at the fire, “do you think Bruce would let me get away with ditching the cape? Cause I’m thinking I might invest in a helmet.”

#batfamily #elareine writes #jason todd

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Deep Blue Fantasy Part Four

Pairing: Merman!Tamaki Amajiki x fem!reader

Warnings: None

{Pt. 1}  {Pt. 2}  {Pt. 3}  {Pt. 4}  {Pt. 5}  {Pt. 6}  {Pt. 7}

くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡

Tamaki followed you out of his room, keeping close to your side in case he stumbled. You were both alone in the hall, your footsteps echoing off the high stone walls. Tamaki marveled at the architecture, noting how intricately placed each stone brick was.

He'd been to various parts of the merpeople empire, witnessing incredible underwater palaces, but he was used to the simpler practice of living in caves or small houses formed from the muck on the seafloor. Tamaki loved seeing the attention to detail in each of your walls; windows perfectly spaced and letting the sunlight warmly spread across the floor. He couldn't help but wonder if all human homes looked like this, but a part of him figured they didn't.

His mind also began to question why you lived in a place like this, and had what you called a handmaiden like Brianne. Were you important in some way? Was it your father? You had mentioned him a few times. Maybe you happened to be from a very rich family. Tamaki felt a slight lump form in his throat. Of course, he had to fall for someone who seemed to be more and more out of his league with every new piece of information he found out about her.

Just what was a princess? Tamaki felt like he might have heard the term before, maybe in some kind of legend or story, but he couldn't remember where. The not-knowing nagged at the back of his brain, but he was determined not to ask in case he insulted you.

You led him through a big room with a large table, guiding him towards a door in the wall, which was nearly hidden against the cool tones of stone. The door swung open, and Tamaki found himself looking down at a flight of steps leading down into a warmly lit room.

You showed him the rail, letting him cling to it as you assisted in making your way down the small number of steps. Miraculously, Tamaki survived, and he felt very proud of himself for not tumbling down the stone stairs on his first try at them.

You confidently strode around a bend and excitedly led him towards a burly man who was washing dishes in the sink with his back turned to the two of you.

"Gabriel!" you called out. "There's someone I'd like you to meet!"

The man turned. He looked to be about in his forties and sported a brunet mustache, his eyes twinkling when he caught sight of Tamaki.

You pulled him closer to the new man, beaming excitedly. "Tamaki, this is Gabriel, our cook. He's very very sweet. I'm sure you'll also be interested to hear that he was the one who rescued you off the beach."

"Please tell me you didn't go there on purpose? The water there is dangerous." Gabriel's voice was gruff yet somehow smooth, words reverberating in his chest. Tamaki allowed the sound to resonate in his mind for a minute, savoring how it sounded so different from the women he'd heard before. It vaguely reminded him of the lower pitches of whale song he'd hear when the large mammals would migrate north in the spring and summer; when the waters would warm and the currents would slow.

He barely had time to nod before you jumped in at his silence. "He's a castaway. Apparently his boat went down out at sea and he happened to wash onto our shores." You turned and grinned at him. "You're not a complete idiot after all."

"I knew I didn't recognize him," Gabriel said, looking into Tamaki's face and making him go back to being generally uncomfortable. "It's rare for me not to know a fellow islander. I see pretty much everyone when I go off to market. Feeling better, son?"

He placed the back of his large hand over Tamaki's forehead, making him elicit a small squeak as he shied away. His touch was warm and gentle, but such factors were canceled at the fact Tamaki had never met him before.

"Jumpy thing, aren't ya?" Gabriel straightened, apology quickly flashing in his eyes. "Still shook up? You were in pretty rough condition. Must have taken a blow to the head on one of those rocks. But you weren't too bloodied up, thankfully. I've seen so much worse come of those that venture into the cold, dark sea . . . ." His voice trailed off, gazing at nothing as it looked as though his mind traveled to places unseen or heard.

You placed a hand on his solid arm, catching his eyes with yours as you gently pulled him out of his daze. "Hey," you softly crooned.

"Sorry, Princess. Got . . . distracted." He abruptly straightened and shook his head. "I'm glad we found you as soon as we did. Any longer and you woulda frozen to death. You really have (Y/N) to thank, here, for finding you."

You bashfully lowered your gaze and shrugged, toeing the stone floor. "Without you, I would never have been able to get him all the way back here."

"A team effort, then." Gabriel slid back into a grin and winked at Tamaki. "You best get plenty of rest. Did you enjoy the stew?"

Tamaki nodded. "Thank you," he said, trying to keep his voice above a mumble. "It was really good."

Gabriel squinted at him, suddenly confused. "What?"

Tamaki frowned and looked back up at him, opening his mouth to repeat himself before remembering the necklace that still hung around his neck under his shirt.

You'll be able to speak to the first human that touches you, so make sure it's her.

This must be what Nejire meant. Gabriel couldn't understand him. Tamaki briefly wondered what the man had heard come from his mouth, hoping it wasn't too embarrassing before you jumped in again.

"You ate it so fast!" you giggled. "Which reminds me. Gabe, could you get him another cup of water? I think he's still thirsty."

"Of course." Your friend pulled another metal cup from the sink behind him, giving it an extra rinse in the water of the basin before filling it with clean water from a pump. He handed it to Tamaki who gratefully took it and began to take small sips from the mug, enjoying the newfound taste of fresh water. "So where are you from?"

Tamaki faltered mid-sip, mind starting to spin. Should he lie? He didn't know what to say. How should he keep his secret? Gabriel couldn't understand a word he said but you could. Even if he told the truth, the name of his empire would be very difficult to translate. He was sure even you would have a hard time figuring out what he meant.

Tamaki just tried for a mildly distressed hum and shrugged his shoulders, going back to swallowing some water.

You and Gabriel shared a glance that went unnoticed by Tamaki's eyes, hidden from view behind the rim of his cup. "Were you . . . a pirate?" you spoke up, trying to work out his history.

Pirates . . . . The term was vaguely familiar to him. Maybe he'd seen it in one of the children's' story scrolls at the library. He hesitantly shook his head, trying to stay hidden behind his drink.

"Just a sailor that lived out at sea?" Gabriel asked, his voice suspicious yet equally hesitant.

Tamaki decided this would be the best one to roll with, finally peeking out and nodding his head.

"Sure are quiet . . . ." the man softly muttered, lightly stroking his chin as he studied Tamaki's face. "Are you mute or something?"

Mute?

"He was talking just fine before," you said, resting a gentle hand on Tamaki's shoulder. "Do you need to go lie down again? It's been a long day."

Tamaki shook his head. He wanted to spend time with you. Just maybe you alone, without other people who might hear whatever nonsense came out of his enchanted mouth.

"He staying here?" Gabriel asked, relaxing his stance only fractionally.

"Yeah, in one of the guest chambers. We're waiting for the ships to the mainland to come back."

"That'll be some time," the man mused. "Oh well. If you ever need anything, you can always ask." This was directed at Tamaki. "And if you ever try anything funny—" a steely glint arose in Gabriel's eyes, making the boy gulp, "—you'll have to deal with me."

You smirked and caught Tamaki's gaze, mockingly giving him a sharp nod. Everyone in the room could agree that Gabriel was not a man to be messed with.

"Thank you, Gabe," you said, nudging Tamaki so he would know it was time to start moving again.

"No problem, Princess." Gabriel turned and went back to his work. He lifted something out of the basin that caught Tamaki's eye. It was a sponge. What was he doing with one of those?

Tamaki glanced at you, but before he could even think to try to subtly whisper something in your ear so Gabriel couldn't hear him, you pulled him back to the stairs. After a short moment of collecting his legs, Tamaki soon found that climbing stairs was much easier than going down them. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself for reaching the top of the landing.

"Yay!" you congratulated him when you were both standing together at the top. "You're really getting the hang of things!"

Tamaki blushed and smiled at the floor, nearly melting in the glow of your smile. How were you always so vibrant? You tapped him on the shoulder, making him look up to see that you had raised up a hand, level with your shoulder.

"High five?" you asked, giving your palm a little shake.

Tamaki hesitantly lifted his hand to press against yours, confused.

You giggled. "Do you not high five out at sea?"

"No," Tamaki answered truthfully. "What is it?"

You demonstrated on yourself, clapping one of your hands to the awaiting other. "Like that, except this hand is supposed to be yours."

You held out your hand again in the same manner, and Tamaki gently slapped his against yours.

"See, you learned something new today!" you beamed.

Actually, Tamaki thought, I've learned so many things today. I can barely keep up.

"Come on." You started walking and Tamaki hurried to keep up. "There are still some people I want you to meet."

The two of you didn't speak for a few moments, traveling together in companionable silence.

Finally, you broke it, making Tamaki look up at your pensive face. "Why didn't you want to talk with Gabe?" you asked, steps echoing off the walls of the cool hallway.

"I, um—" Tamaki tried to think of a good answer. He finally alighted on a half-truth. What could be better? "I get . . . really nervous around people and it's like I can't function," he admitted, keeping his eyes cast down. "It's mostly just around strangers I don't know very well."

"You're not like that around me," you said. "You talk just fine."

"Yeah, but you're just so—" Tamaki stopped himself before he could say any more. He didn't want to go too fast. He wanted your affections to be as much your choice as his were for you.

"I'm so what?"

"Uh, nice, I guess."

"Gabriel is really nice." Your voice remained soft and nonaccusatory. "He may look a little intimidating, but once you get to know him, he's a real sweetie."

Tamaki silently reeled at the idea he might have accidentally insulted your friend. "I didn't mean he wasn't! It's just that . . . I feel different when I'm around you." He dared look into your face.

Your expression was slightly flustered, yet you had undeniably been flattered by his words. Who was this boy? You had to wonder. Why was he so . . . strange?

The two of you remained quiet on your way through the halls. You had Tamaki meet a few more people who worked at your father's chateau before leading him outside. You gleefully threw off your flats, letting your toes sink into the plush grass beneath them.

Still barefoot, Tamaki followed after you, discovering the new sensation of sun-warmed grass tickling his ankles. He watched as you twirled around in the light, skirts flowing around your skilled, graceful legs. Someday, Tamaki promised himself, he would be able to have that much control over his new limbs. He imagined himself joining you, bouncing around almost as weightlessly as if you were underwater.

You came back and pulled him over to a small patch of flowers. Tamaki had never seen anything like them, and he hesitantly reached out a hand to brush the tips of his fingers over their soft petals.

A small creature burst into flight near his hands, making Tamaki jump back. It didn't look like a bird, and yet, its wings carried its tiny body effortlessly through the air. It was a light yellow, starkly showing up against the green grass behind it. It alighted on Tamaki's arm, making him freeze in apprehension, watching as little antennae brushed against the cloth of his sleeve.

"What is it?" Tamaki scarcely dared to breathe.

You laughed aloud behind him, carefully settling down beside him so as not to frighten it away. "That's a butterfly."

"Woah."

The two of you observed it wander over his appendage until a light breeze prompted it to flutter off.

You noticed Tamaki's face as he watched the insect leave. His eyes practically had stars in them as he looked after it, and you couldn't help but appreciate for the first time just how blue they were. At first, you had thought they were just kind of black, but now, in the setting sun, you could make out each sapphire hue. They reminded you of the ocean, and intrigued you just as much.

He really was handsome. You admired the way his blue-black hair fell between his eyes, following it with your own eyes to the little tufts that spiked up in the back. His ears poked out of the falling locks, and you noticed with curiosity that they were somewhat pointed. The urge to reach up and touch them struck you, but you fought it, stilling your hand so it remained in the grass. You went back to his eyes, and they met yours, heat suddenly growing on both your cheeks.

"So, uh," you began, finally reaching up your hand to place on the back of your neck. "Were you born on the sea or something?"

"Why do you ask?"

You smiled sheepishly, dropping your gaze to the dirt. "I guess you're just so . . . intrigued with all this. It's like you look at the world with so much wonder as though you've never seen anything like it before."

"I haven't."

You looked back up to him. "You've never been on land?"

Tamaki blew out his cheeks, trying to decide yet again how to answer. "Not really."

Your eyes widened. "How—?"

Tamaki abruptly stood. "I-I can't tell you. I want to, but now isn't a good time." His eyes contained fear and maybe regret, wincing as your face fell into confusion.

"Are you in trouble or something?" you asked. "If there's someone bothering you, I am capable of placing you under my protection—"

"I-it's not like that." Tamaki hated the way his voice shook. He wanted to tell you who he was, what he was, but now just wasn't the time.

When?

"I promise," he said, shakily offering his hand to you. "I will tell you."

You looked at his hand dubiously. "I have my safety to worry for as well," you told him, glancing from his expecting fingers and back to his eyes. "Tamaki, I know I've just met you, but I want to be able to call you my friend."

His heart melted at your words. Friendship was a start. Could you like him as a friend already? "You have my honor," he said, and you finally placed your hand in his. "I will never do anything to hurt you."

You nodded, now standing. "When can you tell me?" you asked, dropping his hand. "I want to know more about you."

He chewed his lip, already missing the moment of contact you had briefly shared. "You consider me your friend?" he asked, hesitantly.

"I would like to."

"Tomorrow then. I would really like to get to know you too."

"May I ask what the purpose is of keeping this secret?"

Tamaki winced. "I don't want you to think differently of me."

You gently placed your hand on his shoulder. "I won't judge you. I'm not like that. As long as you're a genuinely good person, I don't care where you grew up."

Tamaki almost spilled his guts out to you right then and there, but a voice interrupted him in his tracks.

"Princess! There you are!" Brianne stepped out of the doorway. "You should do some studying before dinner. You know your father wants you to keep up with that."

You smiled, giving a light eye roll. "Coming."

"Hurry up," she called over her shoulder as she turned to go back inside. "You've already missed quite some time running around with this boy all afternoon."

Tamaki blushed, embarrassed at her reference to him.

"Wanna come with me?" you asked Tamaki. "You can keep me company."

"Sure."

"Can you read?"

"Yes."

...

It turned out, Tamaki couldn't read.

At least, not whatever script you showed him. He was used to a different, swirling type of print the merpeople used to write.

The two of you had settled in your study, and you had handed him a small stack of books for him to skim through while you did some work of your own, an ink pen in hand, occasionally jotting something down onto a sheet of parchment.

Tamaki thumbed through the bound pages, amazed at what was possible in the dry air. He tried to make sense of some of the words before him, but he remained clueless.

He found some drawings featured in one of the books, this one appeared to be on the creature from earlier you had called a butterfly. He delicately traced his hand over the ink, studying the anatomy of the insect's wings and small body pictured before him. Every few pages there was another drawing, and he would look it over. He hadn't even thought to wonder about how many different species there were. It struck him that you and he were like that; different species, but so tantalizingly similar all the same.

Finally Brianne called you down for dinner and the two of you ate alone together at the big table. You made conversation on what you had been studying, talking a bit about human history. Tamaki was deeply intrigued, hanging on every word and occasionally interrupting you with a question.

When you were both done, you walked him back toward his room. "Would you like a bath?" you asked him. "I can ask Brianne to draw you one. It might feel nice."

"Uh . . . sure, if it's not too much trouble." Tamaki had no idea what it was that you were talking about, but he was curious all the same.

"Not at all." You beamed up at him.

If a week ago someone had told Tamaki that he would be on the receiving end of so many of your beautiful smiles in one day, he'd have thought they'd spent too much time in the sun. You were so beautiful to him, and he wanted nothing more than to stay by your side forever.

Forever . . . that was a long time. And he now only had twenty-nine days left. He hoped he could come up with something soon. Maybe Mirio would help him again. You would wait for him, right? After you found out he wasn't a human?

You let him in his room and ducked out again to go find your handmaiden. Tamaki stood alone in his room, glancing toward the dark window. In the dim candlelight of the chamber, he saw something in the glass. He took a few steps closer and saw . . . himself.

He had seen his reflection before. One of his fellow townspeople had found a human mirror in a sunken shipwreck. Everyone had gathered around, curiously peering into the reflective glass. The window before him didn't work so well, but he was still able to make out just how much he'd changed.

His cheeks looked rosier and less pale than they had once been. His pupils were smaller, eyes not as big. His nose protruded from his face more, but not in an obnoxious way. Gills no longer lined his neck, and the small frills behind his ears were missing, although he had figured out both of these facts much before seeing it for himself. His teeth were flat like yours and his lips had filled out slightly, no longer just barely visible outside his mouth. He looked perfectly human, although he noticed his ears were still pointy, but they had always been that way. Even among the merpeople, they had been a little odd.

He heard his door click and swing open, making him turn around and see Brianne standing in the doorway.

"Come along, now," she said. "It was Tamaki, right?"

He nodded, following her into the hall. She led him into a room that held a large white basin, filled nearly to the brim with steaming water.

"Do you want me to take your clothes?" Brianne asked from behind him.

Tamaki thought for a moment, trying to decide how to respond. He cringed, remembering that if he tried to speak, she wouldn't understand him. He finally nodded, looking down to his shirt. Now to get it off . . . .

His fingers fumbled with the buttons, only made more shaky with Brianne standing there, watching him. A small part of him wished that it could be you instead. Not for any impure reason. He simply felt more comfortable around you. Adding to the fact he couldn't answer her or even begin to explain why, he couldn't help but feel horribly awkward around your friend.

He finally worked out three buttons and attempted to slide it off over his head. Now holding it, he handed it off to Brianne, who took it and draped it over her arm. Tamaki then started with the tie around his waist, finding it much easier to undo and tugging his pants down around his ankles.

Averting her eyes, Brianne took them from him as well and swiftly whisked out of the room, shutting the door tight behind her. Tamaki stepped over the rim, letting his toe dip into the water. He found it comfortably warm and fully submerged his foot, repeating the action with the other leg. He slid down, the warm water unfamiliarly soothing his muscles.

It was a strange sensation to be wet again. The idea of taking off the necklace and letting his tail come back floated hazily into his mind, but he decided against it. He vividly remembered the excruciating pain of transforming between species and decided that taking it off would only happen when absolutely necessary. Besides, what if Brianne walked in and saw? That would be a horrible way to be outed.

Now came the question of what he was supposed to do.

Tamaki shifted down, letting his head sink underwater. He briefly wondered how long he could hold his breath, now that he only had a slightly larger pair of lungs. The temperature made his eyes sting so he shut them tight, letting a dark silence press around him.

He already missed you. He wanted to keep talking to you. Your conversation at dinner had been so enrapturing to him, his mind couldn't help but go back to what you had said. It amazed him that two species could live on the same planet together for so long and yet have such contrasting, separate histories from each other.

He came back up, wiping some of the water from his eyes and glancing around. He noticed that on the rim of the tub sat a sponge. The second one he'd seen today.

He picked it up, finding it squishier than he'd expected. What were you doing with so many of them?

Hundreds of years ago, merpeople had seen male dolphins exchange sponges with female dolphins as a mating gift. It had become tradition to do the same; a male merman presenting a sea sponge to a mermaid he was interested in.

Tamaki blushed, thinking of you. How would you react to him giving it to you? Would it mean anything if you already knew of having it in this room?

How different could she be from the mermaids back home? Mirio's voice sounded in his mind.

From what he'd seen today, very, but maybe this could be something you had in common with him.

He toyed with it, squeezing it between his fingers. Maybe you would appreciate the gesture. He set it back on the rim of the tub, sinking back down into the water.

He let his mind wander, briefly stressing over things he would have to do in the future. The most pressing one was telling you about what he was. Tamaki spent the next several minutes rehearsing in his brain, trying to picture your reactions to various confessions he came up with. He scarcely noticed the water cooling around him as time passed.

Eventually, Brianne opened the door, preceded by a rapid knock before swinging it open. She laid out a different shirt, a pair of pants, and another rectangular strip of cloth before leaving again. Tamaki stood, trying to shake off as much water as he could, planting his feet on the cool stone below. With his skin still glistening with water, it was difficult for Tamaki to pull on his clothes, but he eventually managed. Pacing back over to the tub, Tamaki swiped the sponge that balanced delicately on the rim. He shoved it into his pants pocket and stepped out into the hallway where a waiting Brianne stood silently by the door. She gave his still-dripping hair an odd look but, all the same, led him back to his room.

He flopped into his bed, tiredness finally beginning to settle within his bones. In the dying light of a candle, Tamaki drifted off to sleep, hoping against all things that he would still be here by tomorrow night.

...

To be continued . . . .

くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡くコ:彡

[Part Five]

Taglist (If you ever want to be added or removed, you can always message me): 

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[pjstafford]

Letter to The Truly Like Lightning Book Club

I’m a person who likes to write, but I know I sometimes make spelling or grammatical mistakes which annoy people. I apologize in advance.

I do tend to be pretty open and honest about my feelings and I do feel deeply.

I kind of like social media to be upbeat and positive. I don’t really like to knock it too much when it isn’t. What’s the point!? Social Interaction between humans is sometimes problematic no matter what form it takes.

I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. When it is triggered I have a flight response. On Twitter that means making my Twitter footprint smaller. I want to be smaller to protect myself. Yesterday, though, it seemed like I was being told that as small as my footprint had gotten, I wasn’t small enough. What do I do now? How small can I go before I’m gone.

I truly don’t know where to go with something that is not a life threatening problem, not a rocket science issue, but is a little thing about a book club. I believe it was The Who who sang this is not a social crisis, but just another tricky day for you. This morning is a Tricky day. I am really wondering...

Do we cancel the book club?

Do we have a steering committee to organize it differently?

Do we go off twitter?

Do we have a different facilitator?

Should I leave social media, maybe shave my head and take a vow of silence?

How I feel about this is extremely foolish and really desperately sad with just a smidge of anger.

I feel foolish because I thought the book club was going really, really well. I have loved the discussion. It has deepened my understanding of the book which I already enjoyed. It’s been fun. Imagine my surprise to find out there are issues. The sad and angry piece is a little complicated. So let me put the issues out first since that is what the club needs to discuss today. This is the fourth book club I have facilitated on Twitter. It has been my most pleasant experience until today. Every club has been formatted exactly the same. Apparently this one might need some restructuring.

1. When is the appropriate amount of time following a book’s publication to allow to pass before doing a public book club where people who may not be in the book club could still see the discussion? People who might read the book in the future or had started the book and wasn’t as far along might have spoilers. It’s a valid concern, but Twitter isn’t known for being a spoiler free zone. If a program drops on the East Coast two hours before my time, before I can watch spoilers exist on Twitter. However this book dropped February 2 and we waited until March 1st to begin the book club. We have a # but when people respond they don’t always use the #. Also some people don’t follow me and they are not part of the book club but because people retweet the questions they were showing up on people’s timeline when they didn’t want them there. So the compromise we arrived at was no body can retweet any question or response and every response must have the #. I’m still confused, though, about the rules. Movies/television =immediate spoilers acceptable, books= a month to six weeks is too soon. I was told it’s not a matter of rules but being nice. Ok. I want to be nice but what is the appropriate time because sometimes I don’t read a book for years? If we postpone the book club for six months, a year, three years, thirty? With the compromise reached, why do I care? Because why are we being so quiet and circumspect about a book I think people ought to know about and read. Sometimes social media helps create a buzz. What a shame that a book club that is reading the book critically and in depth is, to some degree, being told to not be so loud because, you know, Twitter is a spoiler free zone. To be clear, I think the persons who raise the concerns did so for legitimate reasons and out of concerns for future readers of the book, but when we talk about the reasons I am sad and angry you will see why this upset me we much. it’s not their fault but I responded poorly and I’m still coming down from my PTSD spiral.

2. Perhaps, the problem is that Twitter isn’t the appropriate forum for a book club. Maybe Discord or private messages or zoom. Yes. This is the fourth book club I’ve hosted on Twitter. I was asked in March last year if I would start a book club due to quarantine. They’ve all been successful so far. Why do I feel so silenced? Again I don’t think the person who suggested this meant anymore than oh, let’s solve the spoiler problem. But I have a particular reason for not wanting to be silenced.

3. Some people have read the full book already and want to talk about the book in its entirety. I see that. I really do. I just have never had a book club like that. That means waiting longer. Some people like the chapter a day. Should we do multiple book clubs ?

4. Are the questions too serious? The subject matter is complex. Would a different facilitator be more appropriate? One who wouldn’t highlight the controversial and serious issues!

Why am I sad and a little angry? Why did my PTSD kick in outside of it being a bad year and a stressful time at work and I’m tired? Haven’t had a day off I a long while. (No complaints I have a job). I’m tired.

April 2017 I started the Twitter account @hearteyes4david. I had help but it was mostly me. I kind of love David Duchovny’s writing. I have blogged about it and have said someday he will have a break out novel. I believe Truly Like Lightning should be it. But the account showed love for all things David and I believe it gave some fans some fun. I enjoyed being a part of it. We had newsletters and contests. But for me, I an first and foremost a fan of David’s writing. I write. I admire writers. His writing should not be diminished by his other careers. In March of last year with the lock down I was asked to facilitate a Miss Subways book club, then the lock down went on so we did his other two books. Twitter and hearteyes have been my happy place in this year. It’s hard when your happy place feels threatening.

I was fortunate enough to get an advance digital copy of the book to read. Wow. Different! Great! It is not because I am 😍. This is one of the best books I’ve read this century. I am an avid reader. I have a critical eye. I wrote a spoiler free review. Almost immediately a fan contacted me. Because of spoilers you shouldn’t have posted this. Why don’t you do a DM for those who are interested? Don’t do spoilers. It’s a spoiler free review. This fan continued to tell me that it would be best not to post about the book. ( you know, spoilers). Then fans who had not read the book but knew for a fact that every other page was full of sex scenes and drugs and it was essentially exactly like Californication (not remotely) started saying nothing should be posted on the 😍 page about this book. Then a fan who hadn’t read it complained about how it handled religion and said it would cause her personal pain to see anything about this book on the 😍 page. I kept saying. I actually don’t care if you read it or not. My suggestion is you mute, block or unfollow the account if you don’t like the content. “But the pain, could we at least not do the book club? “. 🥺🥺🥺. I was convinced that rather than have the controversy on the 😍 page I would choose to leave my happy place account I had created to start a small account and my fan related activities became far more focused. It might not seem like much, but the decision to leave 😍 was hard, but I wanted to talk about this book. These aren’t the only reasons but the three pronged fans really angry at me for a book I didn’t write which wasn’t even published yet was challenging during the holiday season of 2020. I made my Twitter footstep smaller. I passed the account to Charmion who is doing great.

So then I waited till March to talk about the book. In the meantime “fans” who hadn’t read the book, immediately started to spread lies and mistruths about the book including selective out of context screen shots. So much for “Spoilers”. Still I waited until March. So now I have a smaller account followed by 100 people which very few “super fans” know about and about 5-7 of us are talking about this book. That’s it. For 18 days we have discussed the difficult, complex flawed characters and how the book demonstrates that these characters actions caused harm to other characters and yet left us with empathy for all. We have not always agreed. It’s a book club. Reading one chapter a day.

Yet somehow we are too loud. My tweets were being retweeted. You know, have to be concerned about spoilers. Were there 15 hate filled tweets from people who shared screen caps they were sent of random out of context paragraphs, people who proudly say they haven’t read the book, don’t need to, they’re experts, 15 for every one of mine. Of course. But I’m too loud. You know. Spoilers

So I am sad. Desperately so. I walked away from an account I had poured a lot of love into because I believed in a book I wanted to talk about. After being pretty involved in the fandom, my current activities are pretty narrowed. I’m not sure I can continue to facilitate the book club. I guess my days involved in “fandom” outside of being a fan are drawing to a close. My happy place is kind of gone.

I’m angry because this book deserves to be critically read on its merits. I’m angry because I don’t like my voice to be silenced. I’m angry because I think there are fans who actually like the book who are in fact concerned about spoilers, but they don’t realize by silencing or at least quieting the discussion of fans who have read and want to discuss the book, they are only allowing the space for the haters voices to be heard. I’m angry at myself because every step of the way I should have handle this differently. I’m angry because I shouldn’t care so much. It’s not a Jan 6 insurrection, climate change, or world peace. It’s a book by an author who don’t need me to fight these battles.

Finally I’m simply confused about where or what to do. With an account of 100 followers some people who don’t follow me think I’m too loud because I’m posting about something they don’t want on their feed (David’s book) and someone might repost me. Because I feel threaten by people telling me too get smaller my response is to try and get smaller. So I shouldn’t post about David’s book because there are people in he fandom who don’t want to see posts about David’s book. Ok. I should come on Twitter and never interact because that way no one will ever see a post from me they don’t want to see🤷‍♀️. Mercy, I’m on a lobbyist, have you guys seen the political stuff I post on my other account? Yep, probably just the fandom stuff I need to walk away from except for, you know, being a fan, but never discussing it.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Trust

Masterlist here

Characters: Tom Hiddleston and Female Novelist Reader

Summary: Finding just the right actor to star in the movie based on your book wasn't an easy process. And then Tom Hiddleston walked into the room, and he may solve more than just your casting concerns.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word Count: 4.2k (whoops)

A/N: This is based off a request given to me by @yespolkadotkitty! I apologize that I haven’t posted in a long while and that this took a minute to get out, but I hope you enjoy it! ALSO. I know nothing about the film industry. Please ignore what I’m sure are several errors concerning that topic.

“Next!”

“He was really good. You sure you didn’t like him?”

You closed your eyes and dropped your forehead onto your hand supported by your elbow on the folding table in front of you. When you had been contacted by your agent that a studio wanted to turn your best-selling novel into a movie, it felt like a dream come true. A whirlwind of paid flights, lunch meetings, negotiations, and signed contracts led you to your spot next to the casting director, several producers, and director for the movie. You were lucky that they were taking your opinion into consideration at all, and you didn’t want to create waves, but there hadn’t been a man reading for the main role yet that felt right.

From several one-note actors to a few who were way off the mark to those who showed up completely unprepared, nobody had made you feel the gripping tension of the troubled but earnest character of Joshua Collins, the struggling artist and male half of your romantic tale.

“Hello, my name is Tom Hiddleston, and I’d like to audition for the role of Joshua Collins.”

That voice. Sophistication roughened with the barest hint of anxiety and smoothed out by a full baritone that dripped honey. Your head popped up from your hand to take in the sheepishly grinning man in front of you. He was tall, so tall that it took an eternity for your eyes to drag from the worn boots on his feet, up the slim legs expertly encased in blue slacks, over the broad chest that strained at the thin fabric of his light blue button-up shirt, to a face that had to have been sculpted by the finest craftsmen with planes and shadows to highlight his arresting stare.

The lines that he read through with a producer’s assistant sounded as if they came straight from your creative imaginings. He was Joshua. The ability he had to convey such emotion with the tilt of his head, the press of his lips, or even the very act of taking a breath to sustain his speech was enough to render you utterly transfixed. Even the silence that fell over the room as he gathered his thoughts for a response had you tense and gripping your pen until your knuckles lightened as you waited with bated breath for a reply you had memorized before he’d strolled in. But with him it was new, organic, somehow spontaneous and heartfelt and so true it resonated deep in your bones.

And then he stood from the chair he had fallen into with an easy, relieved smile on his face as he smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt. “Thank you all for sharing your time with me today. And, if I may,” he shifted his attention from the studio bigwigs to you, “I absolutely adored the raw humanity in your novel. I hope that I can bring it to life for you.”

The sound of the door closing seemed to break the spell that had fallen over the room. You shared a knowing look first with the casting director and then the director herself.

“Joe, please tell those remaining that auditions have been canceled,” Sam smiled, scribbling something in her portfolio in front of her. “We have our man.”

~

Had you picked up all of the loose bits of trash scattered around your room? Sure, the staff had cleaned that morning, but that didn’t mean that you hadn’t found some way to dirty it since then. Would bottled water be okay? Maybe he preferred coffee. Hotel coffee wasn’t ever the greatest, but it would do in a pinch. Right? And should you have put on nicer clothes? Maybe-

A light, rhythmic knock sounded on your door, stopping your anxious thoughts and making you freeze from where you were bent over making sure the hem of your jeans wasn’t rolled over.

Another knock, and you quickly righted yourself, running your hand over your hair to tame any flyaways as you scurried to the door. Tom stood on the other side, holding two beers in one hand and a thick leather folio in the other.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me before rehearsals begin. May I come in?”

As if anyone would turn down Tom Hiddleston, especially when he came bearing beer. You stepped to the side, allowing him to pass by, leaving behind the very masculine scent of bergamot and citrus in the air that stirred between you. “Of course. You look like you’re ready to attend a class or something.”

He placed everything down on the tiny table meant to be a desk before turning to you with a small smile. His large hands rubbed against his jeans on the outside of his thighs. “Admittedly, I am a bit of a fan of your writing. An avid fan, actually. I was hoping that you wouldn’t mind too terribly if we discussed the book? I want to ensure I fully bring this character to life as you so masterfully wrote it.”

Color you shocked. Sure, you had received plenty of praise for your book throughout this process, the paycheck was evidence enough that it was liked, but to have someone that you personally admired for their own set of talents compliment it was another thing entirely. Working to school your face so that your excitement didn’t show, you grabbed the beer he opened and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Ask away, Mr. Hiddleston.”

Draping his long and lithe form into the faded desk chair, he opened his folio and uncapped a pen that looked more expensive than the entirety of your outfit. “Tom, please. We will be working closely together, and we are neighbors in this hotel as well. Formalities are not necessary.”

“Okay,” you nodded and took a swig of liquid courage. “Tom, what would you like to know?”

Questions and answered flowed easily after a few stuttering moments on both sides of the conversation. You were only struck dumb once or twice from the intensity of his thoughtful stare, and you found yourself both grateful and saddened when it would leave you to focus on the copious notes he scribbled down in the folio on his thigh. You’d never felt so heard as to when he watched you ramble on about plot points and motivation and character development, with his hand rasping against the five o’clock shadow that darkened his razor-sharp jawline and his brows furrowed.

Only when you stifled a yawn behind your hand did he seem to pull himself from the focused notes he had been taking after you explained a more difficult aspect of Joshua’s past. He glanced at the leather-strapped watch on his arm, frowning. “I do believe that I have kept you up far too late. I apologize. I should be going so that you may rest for overseeing rehearsals tomorrow. You will be there, correct?”

“I think so, yeah. Unless I’m needed for consultation on a last-minute script change, I think that’s where I’m supposed to be. I’m not really sure how all of this works,” you admitted with a light laugh.

He walked with you to the door after tossing both his and your bottles in the trash and gathering his things that had spread out over the desk. “If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. I know how overwhelming all of this can be. Until then, I very much look forward to seeing you. Goodnight.”

The clasp of his hand on your shoulder was heavy, stretching across your skin with a pleasant warmth that you wanted to curl into and bask in forever. You reached up and patted his hand gently before opening the door. “Goodnight.”

Sure enough, when you watched him head back to his room in the hotel meant to house you for the entirety of the filming project, he disappeared into the room directly next to yours.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered on your clothing as you ducked back into your room to prepare yourself as best as you could for the unknown journey ahead.

~

In all your days, you’d never met someone as motivated and driven as Tom. When he wasn’t rehearsing, he was exercising, or building comradery between the cast and crew that he would be spending the next year with, or even, to your astonishment, spending time with you.

It had begun under the guise of him delving deep into his character with you over beers and room service. Then it had switched to other books in your catalog, and then, when you had begged off any serious thinking because you’d spent all day arguing with the writers, it changed into something more personal.

You walked onto set holding two travel tumblers precariously with one arm and your overstuffed binder in the other. A meeting with your agent that morning discussing the press tour preceding the premiere of the movie had gone on longer than expected, and you couldn’t wait to sit down and just watch Tom and the cast act out the inner workings of your imagination over the coffee you clutched. The idea of going for so many interviews and appearances weighed heavily on you. To be the object of so much attention wasn’t why you had gone into writing.

But, perhaps this was.

Tom looked quite frustrated as he talked to Sam, the director, in the middle of the set, about a pivotal point in the film where he admits his love to the female lead (who does not feel the same), and he barely glanced your way as you settled in. His hands flew in front of him with every gesture, fingers spread wide and then clenched tightly into fists at his side. Some conclusion must have been reached because Sam came back to her spot behind the monitors and Tom got into place.

It was obvious to everyone that something was off. You especially, as the dialogue didn’t fit what you had written with the screenwriters for the scene. After the cameras stopped rolling so Sam could talk to Tom once again, whose performance had been stilted and unnatural, you turned to your assistant with a frown heavily etched into your skin. “Was there a rewrite?”

She didn’t even look up from the email she was typing away on her phone. “Yes, ma’am. Just given to everyone this morning. I sent it to your email.”

Groaning quietly, you slipped your coffee and belongings into pockets on the sides of your chair and stood up, holding Tom’s tea in your hand. When you caught his eye you raised it in the air and he nodded. He could come get a drink from it when he had a moment.

That moment came much faster than you expected. He held up one finger to Sam, and you barely caught him plead, “Let me take a drink before we run it again,” before he jogged over to you.

“What’s going on?” you asked, offering him the steaming tea and crossing your arms over your stomach.

He took a deep drink and sighed, closing his eyes to savor the flavor and moment of peace before opening them to look wearily down at you. Irritation lived in the lines between his brows and in the press of his lips together. “The rewrites simply don’t feel like Joshua. I don’t feel as if they line up with his motivations. I-” he sighed heavily, dropping his chin to his chest and putting his free hand on his hip.

You stepped closer to him so that he was forced to meet the determined set of your eyes. Of its own accord, your hand reached out and grasped his. He returned the tight grip and your heart squeezed right along with it. Not the time.

“You know him. You’ve brought him to life and fleshed him out into a fuller being than my words ever did. I-”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re immensely talented,” he interjected.

“I’m not. I’m praising your talent. I’ll go fight Sam if I have to, to just get one take like it was written before they changed it. That’s all I can probably get you. Can you do it?”

He took a bracing sip of his tea before handing the travel mug back to you. Gratitude reflected in the stormy blue of his eyes. “I can. Thank you.”

And then he jogged off back to the set, speaking quietly with the female lead, Mary, about the plan. Which left you to face Sam, hopefully, to throw around what little bit of weight you had. In all honesty, she could put a stopper on the whole situation and force Tom to follow the rewrites. But he was watching you with such hope and support that it bolstered your confidence enough to set down his drink and go over to her.

“What’s going on?”

Sam was a fierce woman, having clawed her way up through the ranks to get her position, and it was easy to want to cower under the steel of her stare. Taking a deep breath, you held out your hands at your sides. “The rewrites aren’t working, Sam. He knows it, Mary knows it, and I know it. Can we just try it the way it was written before? Even if it doesn’t work like we hope, then he’ll have gotten it out of his system and we can move on with shooting.”

She studied you, pinning you to the spot as you tried desperately not to fidget while waiting for her verdict. She maintained eye contact when she shouted to the remarkably silent cast and crew, “One take with the old lines and blocking.”

The knowledge that your reputation was very much on this decision weighed heavily on your shoulders as you nodded your thanks before heading back to your chair. Getting situated, you cradled your coffee in your hands and inhaled the calming aroma as you watched everyone scurry around to get ready for the slight change in blocking and places.

And then action was called, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as Tom’s heart was broken and shattered into a million pieces at Mary’s rejection. The anguish he expressed through ragged breaths and glistening eyes was enough to make you want to run from your place and gather him into the safety of your arms in a futile attempt to put him back together. The scene went on naturally after it was meant to finish, Sam not calling cut, and he collapsed into a heap on his knees and ripped the sketchbook before him to shreds before letting out a scream of pain that would haunt you for the rest of your days.

“Cut.”

An intern ran onto the set and handed Tom several tissues, which he took with a watery smile. Every muscle in your body tensed as you waited for Sam’s reaction.

“Reset. Tom, take a moment and collect yourself. Frank, make sure that you’re tighter on his face right after she turns him down. Lisa, good idea on the sketchbook. Get the rest that you have. Good work, people.”

Tom stood up and was instantly surrounded by hair and makeup to fix the mess that he’d made of himself with his heartfelt performance. But, over their bobbing heads, he managed to look at you and mouth, “Thank you.”

The happiness and relief that soared through your veins were more exhilarating than coffee would ever be.

~

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your fingers stilled over your laptop, the words of your latest piece of fiction ceasing in your head at the peculiar sound. Did someone just knock on your wall? Surely the sounds of your quiet music weren’t too loud.

Knock. Knock.

Hesitantly, you twisted in your bed, pressing your ear to the thin beige wall, and rapped against it three times. When there wasn’t an answering knock, you turned around and pressed your back against your pile of pillows to continue tapping away at what you hoped could possibly be another movie brought to life.

And then the same steady knocks sounded on the door to your hotel room. Confused, you closed your laptop and set it to the side, padding to the door in your pajamas. You opened the door with a confused frown to see Tom standing on the other side, holding a covered tray from room service, exhaustion living in the slump of his shoulders and pull on the corners of his mouth.

“On occasion, I find it hard to wind down after filming. Since you’re awake, I was hoping we could share this piece of chocolate cake and chat a bit?”

Suddenly very shy at your mismatched pajamas and air-dried hair from your shower, you blushed, waving him inside. “How can I turn down cake?”

You closed the door behind him and sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that you had remembered to pick up your dirty clothes from earlier in the day. Turning around, you found Tom sitting cross-legged on the bed, chocolate crumbs on his lips that you longed to clean with your own. “Were you writing? I can leave. I don’t want to disturb you?”

“Nonsense. The ideas are in my notes. I can always make time for you, especially if you ply me with sweets.” You crawled onto the bed next to him and snagged the fork from his hand, taking a bite. “You sure know a way to a girl’s heart.”

His face softened as he nudged your knee with his. “You think very highly of me. On that note, thank you, today, for believing in me.”

“Of course. You are the most talented man I’ve ever met. I trust your gut.”

The rest of the cake was eaten in relative silence, your eyes chasing each other in fleeting glances that had your heart racing in your chest. There was something much more intimate about sharing a dessert in your pajamas, on your bed, than your other late-night meetings in your room. Was it the electric brush of his fingers over yours when you passed the fork to him, or the knowledge that your lips were touching where his had only moments ago? Would he taste like the rich dessert you shared?

Yearning for the charismatic man had grown in you since that first meeting at his audition. How could it not? He was kind, seeking to meet and know every person he interacted with on set. You were not the exception, as your late-night meetings had proved. His intelligence knew no bounds, and you had put it to the test with rousing discussions from everything to literature to current events to Shakespeare to politics. And the fondness that you caught in his gaze from time to time set a warmth alight in your bones that you wanted to live in for the rest of your days. Every brush of his body against yours had you aware of the heat he left behind for hours, and you had long ago imprinted the feeling of his lips upon your cheek in a quick greeting kiss into your memory.

You must have been staring during your descent into your hopelessly pining thoughts, as he was watching you closely with an eyebrow quirked in silent question, when you pulled yourself from your reverie.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, blinking the madness of your wishes away. “Long day. What’d you say?”

“I said that you have a bit of chocolate on your face. Would you like me to get it for you?” he asked quietly.

He didn’t wait for an answer. His thumb brushed against your cheek, sending the smallest shiver down your spine, before he pulled the digit into his mouth. The silence that stretched beneath his darkened gaze held you frozen to the spot. Your face burned where he had fleetingly touched you.

“Were it not for professionalism…” he murmured, a hint of anguish in his voice as his eyes traveled down your face to settle on your parted lips.

How was it possible that you felt like a schoolgirl again? Your heart hammered in your chest so loudly that it seemed impossible to take a deep enough breath to stop your head from spinning. You shifted on the bed, closer to him, peering up at him through your lashes. “You’d?”

He sighed and scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck before lighting it on your face. Holding you still, he leaned forward, pressing his lips against your cheek in a lingering kiss that had your stomach clench in anticipation. Your hands dug into the scratchy duvet beneath you to keep from resting on his abdomen to see if he had the same reaction to the tension that stretched between you like a livewire.

He left one more kiss on your temple, breathing you in and stroking your jawline with his thumb, before pulling away and standing up from the bed with a groan. “You are temptation personified. It would be an injustice to us both if any romantic notions got in the way of your brilliant storytelling. After, though…”

The promise in his lowered voice and the inferno of his eyes was enough to temporarily sate you as you watched him walk out of the door with a shake of his head. Writing for that evening was out of the question as you fell asleep with the remnants of his touch warm on your skin and his cologne perfuming your sheets.

~

“Did you hear the news?”

You turned from where you were scrolling through your phone at the filming wrap party, perking up at the liquid velvet voice that broke through the terrible house music Sam had requested from the DJ. Tom leaned his shoulder against the very wall that currently propped you up, his head tilted to the side in a way that had your belly fluttering like mad.

“News?”

His hands shoved into the pockets of his navy blazer. “We’ll be on the press tour together, for the movie. The studio wanted someone paired up with you that had a bit more experience with such matters, and I volunteered. I guess you aren’t rid of me yet.”

“As if I’d want such a thing,” you admitted with a quiet laugh. Any anxieties that you'd had about making an idiot of yourself for the worldwide press tour were now replaced with doing the very same, but perhaps now you'd be caught ogling Tom while he waxed on about the movie. Or perhaps you'd simply go mad spending so much time with him in close quarters while jet setting across the globe. Was there time for romantic interludes when you were answering the same twenty questions in twenty different countries?

He stood up straight and offered his arm with a cheeky grin, “At the risk of removing the woman of the hour from the party, would you accompany me outside for a bit of fresh air?”

The mischief that twinkled in his eyes was impossible to ignore. You slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Says the leading man of the movie and an actual ray of sunshine. Lead on.”

The bar that they’d rented for the evening opened out onto a busy street that replaced the booming music with honking horns and bustling crowds hurrying home. His arm fell to hang at his side, and he caught your hand with his and laced your fingers together before pulling you behind a bit of greenery out front that hid you from prying eyes both inside and outside.

“Along with attending the press tour with you, I was hoping I could accompany you to the premiere?” he asked, leaned against the roughened brick wall behind him, tugging you closer until you stood in between his spread legs. The chilled wind was most unwelcome at your back, but the warmth of the man in front of you was more than enough to make the stolen privacy comfortable.

Your free hand picked a bit of lint from his crimson sweater before stilling, connected to his ribs by just your pointer finger and thumb, drawn into his heat with the bite of the winter air through your thin party dress. “You know what they’ll say.”

Tom was an incredibly private man, and it might create more talk than he’d want to deal with to show up with a date. You’d love more than anything to spend the evening on his arm, basking in his charismatic glow, but not if it caused him any headache or heartache.

His breath, scented with bittersweet alcohol, fanned across your face as his hand settled onto your hip. That simple touch branded your goose-bump covered skin and had you leaned into him until you had to crane your head backward to meet his tender stare. “That I was chivalrous in escorting the novelist who allowed me the opportunity to embody her treasured characters? That it was very thoughtful of me to ensure that you didn’t feel tossed to the sharks for your first red carpet event?”

With just the drop of his chin, his forehead leaned against yours. “Say yes?”

The nudge of his nose along yours, the rub of his thumb over the thin skin on the back of your hand, the push of his leanly muscled chest against yours with every breath, gave you enough courage to close your eyes and touch your lips to his in the kiss that had been denied you months ago. He groaned softly into your parted lips, releasing his hold on you to press his hands over the curve of your backside so you were flush against him. Fire scorched at your insides from the tease of his tongue and you tumbled headfirst into the passion that he finally stoked to life after it had been smoldering between you for so very long.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly against his jaw, pulling away to draw air into your tortured lungs, kneading your fingers gently over his rapidly beating heart.

Leaning against him, with his arms wrapped around you so that your face found a comfortable home in the smooth column of his throat, you closed your eyes and gave in to the enticing man that had caught your attention so very long ago. With Tom by your side, and perhaps even in your bed, you were safe in the knowledge that you wouldn’t have to navigate this new world alone.

~~

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