#listen its sunday morning‚ what else am i supposed to be doing but whatever this is
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some buttons for the fellow voters out there
Edit: more designs and some info available here :)
#inspired by us election buttons from various decades :p#listen its sunday morning‚ what else am i supposed to be doing but whatever this is#wtnv#welcome to night vale#cecilsweep#tumblr sexymen poll#cecil gershwin palmer#kostek original#tumblr sexyrematch#cecil palmer#tumblr sexyman#my draws
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Finding out about Harry getting the movie role 🥺🥺🥺
No matter how many times you told him not to worry, he did.
You supposed it was only human nature. Everyone had a little worry from time to time. However, with Harry it always seemed to be tenfold.
He would channel his worry in many ways, depending on whatever news he was waiting for. Sometimes he would be deep and brooding, going into himself and becoming a one word answer kind of guy.
Other times he would busy himself with the most menial of tasks. That three mile run he had been putting off earlier in the week would now become between a five to seven mile run and something he absolutely had to do for his own benefit.
The list of groceries that you were going to go out for on Sunday - the ones stuck to your fridge - were now his responsibility to pick up when he went out on a petrol run to fill up his car (that he wasn’t going to drive considering he couldn’t really go anywhere in that present moment of time).
Or the song he had pencilled time in to finish now became important enough that he couldn’t wait for the studio time he had booked and his own recording outlet in the comfort of his home was more than enough to complete the job.
He’d had his deep and brooding moment at the beginning of the week, making it so you were lucky if you managed to get a grunt out of him. You rode that wave out together, neither a comment said from the other about arguably his childish display.
Part of you didn’t expect him to react in such a way. The tape he had sent weeks ago had been well received but he had been gently let down. Beaten by a better man. At first it stung, but it wasn’t like he would be down and out without the opportunity.
He took it on the chin. Brushed himself off and proudly stuck out his chest. Moved onto the next thing, just like before.
“‘S a bit shit but I’ll live,” he admitted, swallowing thickly before taking a larger pull from his wine than its predecessor, as he curled up with you on the couch in knackered old sweats that would’ve been worth binning because of how threadbare and hole-y they were.
His comment has been out of the blue, Harry choosing not to talk more about the situation after he had given you the news that he wasn’t the man for the role. Nonetheless you were ready to engage in the conversation now if it were needed.
“Not going to buy it off Sky movies when it finally appears on their listing though?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
You’d laughed about it. Shared smiles over his whispered experience of recording an audition rather than entering a room and feeling clammy palms like he had done for previous opportunities that he had put himself forward for.
He had talked and talked about scenarios that you knew because you had experienced them with him too. About the line running and how much of a massive ballache it could be at times, invasive and often overbearing due to how all-encompassed he became. Still you let him speak as if these scenarios were new to your ears because somewhere inside you knew that was what he needed.
Then the moment was gone, and the train picked up steam for something else like it always did. Where he was jumping into a car and driving across Europe with his friends, promising you within his goodbye kisses that “‘s not just a piss up wi’the lads” and that he was actually going strictly for business.
And that was it.
You thought it was forgotten.
Pulled into a false sense of security when you savoured the way the world around you had made it so the two of you had time to really connect. To enjoy each other without the apologies around rushed kisses because he was being pulled away, again.
Hand movements slower as you undressed each other in the dusk of the evening or pitch black of the early hours rather than desperately seeking the missed feeling of warmed europhia. Basking in the beauty that came with sluggish pulls and desperate pleas.
That was until he was sitting at the table over breakfast, one bleak morning, hanging on to the words that had been shared between himself and his manager.
All of it fading so easily.
His face was pensive as he listened, free hand dropping his fork and moving to push through his bed head before the backs of his fingers roughly rubbed at the facial hair that was scattered along his jawline and cheeks.
You tried not to stare for too long, not wanting to be caught in your eagerness to eavesdrop. Hands somewhat shaky as they buttered at toast, and cut the crusty bread in half ready to bite into when you felt your hunger return.
The sugar of your tea wasn’t quite sweet enough, as you lifted your gaze to watch Harry continue to listen and sipped at the warm drink.
“Knew it had gone well but didn’t think it’d gone that well,” he replied to whatever Jeff or Alex, or some else, had been saying to him over the other end of the line.
Then his smile broke across his lips.
“She said that,” he paused, blowing out a huge breath of air partly from relief but also hearing such high praise. “‘S good, ‘s great even. Nice to hear.”
Something inside you knew he was gone. Already whisked off somewhere else in all but body. People around him putting him on flights to take him away from you, in clothes that didn’t fit but could be tailored to him to look like his second skin. Literally made for him.
His hair was bound to be the first thing to make him look less like your Harry, in a way that was odd to the eye but weirdly pleasing to your wildest imagination and deviant personality which was known to rear itself between the two of you from time to time.
The feeling, mixed with those sudden rush of thoughts, was only solidified when his eyes darted over towards you but moved away just as quickly.
“‘Ow am I feeling?” He looked at you again, this time met with your buttering your other slice of toast. “Like I’ve got some celebrating to do.”
Harry chuckled boisterously, clearly amused by what had been said to him over the other end of the line. It was enough to make him successful to catch your gaze once more. “Not quite cracked open the champagne yet, mate no. By the sounds of it think you’re doing that for the two of us.”
He paused, “Careful you don’t drink away your managerial cut of the opening weekend, ‘s only in pre-production.”
With a lick to his lips, Harry looked at you, a soft raise to his eyebrows when he saw the realisation lace your features and your eyes widened over at him. Then his lips smiled in the way that they had before when he must’ve received praise.
Only this time it was you and your admiration that he found himself enjoying.
A small bite down onto his bottom lip let you know he was shying away from feeling his full elation and letting you share in it too. You couldn’t stop yourself from removing the napkin from your lap and scrunching it against the dining table as you pushed out of your seat and walked around to him on the opposite side.
Remaining seated, Harry looked up at you as he switched the phone to the opposite side of his face and let your reach for him, encouraging his temple to fall against your stomach.
Fingers wove through his hair, not knowing if it was ever going to be this long again and your lips found the top of his head. Inhaling deeply you pressed a long kiss into his chestnut strands, haphazard but silky regardless of how unkempt he appeared. You whispered your words of congratulations to him so lowly that they were only shared between you whether a third party was still present on the phone.
His arm was wrapped around your waist, anchoring you to him and squeezing gratefully at the curve of your hips as you showered him with kisses.
“Call me later about all tha’,” he requested, lids hooded from the relaxing touch of your fingers. “‘S too early for logistics. ‘M going.”
Phone tossed to the table, Harry pushed back on his chair creating enough space to encourage you down onto his lap without much fight from you. He appreciated it, aware just as much as you that slow mornings like these were now going to happen no more than a handful of times for the rest of the year.
He embraced the way you fell against him, forehead against his temple and warm breath fanning against his cheek. One hand splayed out against your lower back while the other wrapped up and gently held your head against his.
You wanted him to hold you, just as much as you wanted to hold him. Legs heavy against his thighs and arms tight against the tops of his shoulders as your hands rubbed at the parts of his back that you could get to.
A stillness came over you that was heavy with emotion. Bittersweet.
Breathing deeply you had to let him know just how thrilled you were of all his successes. Lips gently gliding against his dribbled cheek, you found the shell of his ear and whispered, “If only you knew how fucking proud I am of you.”
His fingers that were buried into your locks, lightly scratched at the back of your head. A softly breathed chuckled omitting from his chest, “Haven't even told you I got it yet. Could be summat rubbish.”
“Don’t have to, can just tell,” you commented, pulling away and watching him tilt his head back to look at you with his hooded but shiny eyes and lopsided lips that danced with the softest of smiles.
You stayed quiet for a while as you gently ran your fingers over his features. He let you take your time, doing the same with just his eyes. Taking a breath he spoke in a soft tone, “How’d you know?”
“Less frowny, less grumpy man-child .”
“Hey,” he whined in response, quickly after. Face scrunching with his complaint. You breathed a laugh, leaning down to press a tender kiss to his lips which Harry only deepened. Pleased hum heard when you allowed him to do so.
Breaking your lips, you both lingered looking at each other through blurred vision and a mixture of squashed noses and deep breathing. Once his breath was caught Harry spoke his thanks softly in return.
“Does this mean said movie can go back onto my Sky Movies list to purchase when it becomes available?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
#harry styles#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x you#harry styles fic#harry fic#harry fluff#this doesn't have a name#and it was just something i wanted to get out of my head#but really i should be focusing on my other stuff shouldn't i#eeeek#my writing
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(2/?) weekend, starring Connor & Nines platonic/brother relationship, canon!verse
//I love this
Early after his deviation, Nines would have answered with a curt almost offended ‘No’ if he was ever asked if he had family. Then one of his predecessor models had glued himself to Nines. Connor checked in on him constantly. At first it had been annoying, and Nines had been dismissive if not outright combative about it. Then the RK800 had been hurt in the line of duty, and suddenly that pillar Nines hadn’t known he needed was gone. He didn’t know how to navigate his fledgling feelings without him around.
When Connor came back it was Nines who checked on him constantly. Lingering like a tall sinister shadow. He didn’t know what else to abate what he had come to Identify as worry. Unlike Nines, Connor had been receptive of the constant company. When Nines had asked him about it he had simply smiled.
They were a family now. Having a brother was, odd, but not unpleasant Richard found. He had someone who was almost always in his corner. There to help when things got to be too much. He learned a few things about Connor he probably wouldn’t have learned otherwise. His love of animals for one. Everyone knew he adored dogs, but as it turned out he had a soft spot for any animal he came across. The difference in Connor while he was at work and Connor when he was off the clock. He went from a composed, some times even dangerous detective, the one that knew all your cards no matter how close you held them to your chest; to what amounted to a bright eyed child, he was curious about everything and would talk to anyone who had the answers. The first couple of times it had been jarring, but Nines knew now it was how he dealt with having a foot in each world. He worked closely with his base code at work, but once that was over RK800 was put away and the real Connor came out. Nines might have been the younger of the two, but he would do anything in his power to protect that bright eyed wonder in Connor’s eyes.
Connors official activation date was coming up and Nines had made plans for the weekend. A small party Friday evening with friends, and then spending the weekend at Connor’s apartment.
Keeping the party a secret was difficult because of his own excitement and that of their friends. From the saline tears in Connor’s eyes and the bright smile he assumed the surprise was a success. Connor turned and hugged Nines tight enough it would have hurt if he was human.
“This is amazing, thank you.” He said once he had collected himself.
Nines smiled, “You’re welcome. How else was I supposed to express how many people appreciate my little brother.”
Connor narrowed his eyes but didn’t take the bait this time. The party was a success, Connor enjoyed himself and everyone else seemed to have fun too. It was a thing to observe. Connor tried to pull him into it a couple of times but Nines was more one for people watching than actively interacting. The party dispersed after a few hours and the duo caught a cab back to Connor’s apartment. Connor had gotten a few gifts, most dog themed, Nines had gotten him a Dwarf Gourami patterned mug for his thirium.
Connor’s apartment was more furnished than other android apartments. He had a full living room, a guest room designed to be comfortable for both humans and androids, and his room had a bed in it as well. He had a small kitchen as well, most androids forwent that particular customization, but Connor had just as many human friends as he did android ones so it made sense that his home would have influences from both.
When they got to the apartment Nines made himself at home while Connor put away the gifts from his birthday. Nines swelled with pride as the mug he had gotten his brother was placed where it could easily be seen. When that was done Connor made his way to where Nines had settled in on the couch and sat beside him. He connected to tv and turned it on for background noise. Connor had come to dislike absolute silence. He needed some kind of noise in the background.
“Thanks again for tonight. It was fun.” He said with a smile.
“Of course Connor. Its your birthday, and parties seem to be the custom.” Nines said as he relaxed into the couch some, mimicking Connor’s slightly slouched posture. Something he had probably picked up from Hank without noticing.
They spent the next few hours talking and listening to what was on the tv until Connor decided to get ready for stasis. When he was in pajamas, another thing Nines didn’t understand, he came back out into the living room to say good night.
“I’m gonna go into stasis for a bit. You can keep watching tv or do whatever. The guest room is open if you want to get some rest as well.” Connor gestured to the door to the guest room, despite Nines already knowing the floor plan.
“Sleep well Connor.” Nines said in response as the shorter android retreated down the hall.
Saturday found them lounging around the apartment comparing notes on a few cases until Connor get distracted by a commercial for the Detroit Zoo. Nines knew what he was going to suggest before he turned back toward Nines, but the bigger android let him speak.
“Would you like to go to the zoo once we finish these up?” He asked with bright eyes.
“Sure. I haven’t gotten to go yet.” Nines responded. “It will be fun.”
They worked through the reports a little faster now that that they had motivation. By ten in the morning they were in a cab on the way to the Detroit Zoo. Connor was all but vibrating in excitement. He was prattling off all the things they could do when they got there, and Nines listened despite having access to all the same information. He didn’t get to see Connor this excited very often and it was a nice change of pace.
When they arrived Connor paid and disappeared into the Saturday crowd leaving Nines to trail after him. He took the place behind Connor in line.
“I never thought I would have to tell a grown android not to run off.” He remarked dryly, despite the amused smile curling at his lips.
Connor turned to face him still grinning, “I’m excited Nines. I’ve never been to a zoo before.”
“Neither have I, but you don’t see me running around like a child.” He responded.
Connor rolled his eyes, “That’s because you’re boring.”
Nines shoved him. careful of the other people in line and didn’t deign that with a response. He was excited, but like most other things he chose not to express it. Connor had it covered well enough for them both.
When they were admitted Connor spent hours dragging Nines from exhibit to exhibit. It was nice. They took in the available facts and watched a couple of the shows. Nines went into the reptile enclosure on his own because it was a little too enclosed for Connor’s liking. In the way that all good tourists did, they stopped by the gift shop. Nines bought a wolf plush for Connor, and tiger print coffee mug for Gavin. Connor bought a lot of things, most of them were for him, but he had gotten a bobble head of a particularly grumpy looking lion for Hank and an oversized snake plush for Nines. He adored it, privately of course. Connor had gotten a perfectly composed “thank you” but Nines was beaming on the inside. With Connor it was the little things he used to express he cared. They topped off on thirium when they got back to the apartment and talked well into the night. Neither of them going into stasis, too busy going back over the day and relishing in the memory.
Sunday was a lazy day, time to themselves before they got back to work on Monday. Connor had music playing softly in the background as he and Connor attempted to play some of the older video games Hank and Gifted him as they were intended rather than interfacing with the controllers and it was a time. Playing games based off of reflex instead of access to their code was difficult, but doing well gave a rush that had Nines understanding why humans loved it so much. When evening rolled around Nines found himself not wanting to leave, but he had to since they both had work in the morning.
“See you tomorrow Connor.” Nines said when they were at the door.
“See you tomorrow Nines.” Connor said with a smile as he gave Nines one last hug. “Thanks for this weekend. It was fun.”
“It really was.” He said with a smile. He gave another wave and left. He was looking forward to the next weekend they could do something like this again.
@i-am-therefore-i-fight
//ngl this ask makes me want to go to the zoo
(Prompt from this list)
#Canonverse short#'short'#dbh#dbh fic#rk900#dbh nines#rk800#dbh connor#ask event#ask panda#panda has all the answers!#90 follower ask event!#90 followers!!!
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sweetener - [fifteen]
Clarity
Pairing: Tom Holland x Female Reader - uni AU
Word Count: 6480
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, The Talk
A/N: surprise!!!! its like 7 am on tuesday and i said i’d post on sunday, my eyes hurt but its done!! lmk what you think!!
Updates: 19th march maybe
By the time you and Ruby woke up and managed to venture downstairs in search of food on Saturday morning, Liv had apparently already been up for hours, and had cleaned the living room and kitchen so thoroughly that there was no evidence at all that you’d had predrinks there the night before. The only clue was the carrier bag of alcohol that the boys had left behind sitting by the toaster (though Harrison’s half-full bottle of Southern Comfort had mysteriously disappeared and you found the empty bottle in the recycling later). That was just how Liv tended to deal with things that bothered her - i.e. pretend she was fine and throw all her attention into something else, usually cleaning and/or painting.
The four of you spent the rest of the day watching movies on the sofa, and though the only tangible evidence that anything was wrong was that Liv made you watch Dostana (her comfort movie, though she would never admit it), the atmosphere in the house just felt wrong. Ruby eventually got the train home on Sunday morning, and though of course it was so nice to see her and have her stay, it was equally nice to have some alone time again.
You’d been texting Tom as usual throughout the weekend, but there was something niggling at the back of your mind, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on at first. You couldn’t remember exactly what you’d said to him on the phone when you got home on Friday night, but you had a feeling you might have been a bit short with him - but in your defence, he was being really vague and just not very helpful about the whole thing. Anyway, you realised after it became evident that he clearly hadn’t noticed if you had been off with him, that that wasn’t what was bothering you anyway. What was bothering you was the idea that you were heading in the exact same direction as Liv and Harrison had, and you hadn’t even realised it.
You were almost certain Tom wasn’t seeing other people, or kissing other people on nights out, or doing anything else of that nature with other people - but then that was what Liv thought, and evidently she was wrong about that. She hadn’t said much about it, but from her angry ramblings and the screenshots she sent in the group chat on Sunday night you gathered that Harrison had text her in what you assumed was his usual manner and she had not responded, and she had changed his contact name to ‘Prick’, so you supposed that was the end of that ‘relationship’ - if you could even call it that. Madison made a rather good point (though neither of you would ever say it to her for fear of death), which was, did they ever actually say they were ‘exclusive’, or did Liv just assume? As you and Tom had never had that sort of conversation you thought it highly likely that they hadn’t either - which just made you wonder all the more if your assumption about the nature of your relationship was as misguided as Liv’s had been. You really didn’t think it was though, it really didn’t seem like that was the case - but, you supposed, that was what Liv thought - and so round and round in circles you went, tying yourself up in knots that try as you might you couldn’t wiggle your way out of on your own.
After much deliberation you eventually decided to just put your Big Girl Boots on and ask Tom. The only issue was how - and when? The days went by and it just never seemed to be the right time. You wanted to ask him in person, and the problem was that you only saw him briefly on campus due to the unofficial embargo on boys at your house. You could hardly listen to Liv harp on about how men are trash and then be like ‘ok well I’m off to Tom and Haz’s house, cya later hun’, and you definitely couldn’t bring him over, so you had to make do with meeting between lectures if your breaks coincided, and popping into his work a few times.
Lectures were back on in full swing now, and Tom had rugby training on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday ahead of the first game of the term next week, so the most you saw of him all week was on Tuesday evening. You had a late seminar and he was closing at work, so you went in and hung out while he tidied up and then he gave you a lift home - which was nice, though not necessarily the environment you wanted to have The Talk in. But then, did you even need to have the talk? You were pretty sure Liv and Harrison never hung out like that, that it was only ever really just sex for them, like they weren’t exactly friends. Oh, but what if Tom thought of you as more of a ‘friends with benefits’ type situation? What if what if what if aaaaargghhghghghhhhhh?!??!?!!!
The solution to your problem came on Thursday evening, when Liv announced she was going home for the weekend. With Madison going to visit Jack, that meant you had the house to yourself, so you asked Tom to come and stay over, and you’d just talk to him then. The next twenty-four hours felt like the longest of your life - your lectures dragged, it took forever to get home, and then you had to just sit and busy yourself at home while Tom finished a shift at work and had two hours of training. By the time he arrived on Friday night your room was absolutely spotless, you’d changed your mind five times about what you were going to order from the Chinese takeaway, and you were practically beside yourself with nervous energy.
“D’you mind if I shower before we order food?” Tom asked as he dropped his bag on your bedroom floor, already pulling his hoodie off over his head.
“Uh, yeah sure.”
You went and got a clean towel out for him, but before you could hand it over you had a vision of yourself sitting waiting for him to come back upstairs and you decided you just couldn’t wait any longer.
“Actually, can I talk to you about something first?”
“Yeah?” Tom glanced over his shoulder at you as he rummaged through his bag for a change of clothes.
“Okay, so,” you began, folding the towel over your arm as you sat down on your bed. “You know, uh- you know last week?”
“I remember last week, yes,” he chuckled, still not looking up properly from his bag. Though maybe that was better, if he didn’t look directly at you. Ughhh!!
“Right so, last week before we went out, Ruby was asking me about...you. And like, I dunno, what...we...are..?”
“Oh,” he stopped what he was doing then, standing up from where he was kneeling by his bag and sitting down in your desk chair instead. “And what did you say?”
Oh God, it was definitely better when he wasn’t looking.
“I said, like, I dunno,” you avoided his gaze, picking at a loose thread on the towel in your arms instead. “I guess we were like, seeing each other or whatever…” You paused for a second, debating whether to stop talking and see if he’d say anything, before deciding to just barrel on through. “...and she asked if we were seeing other people and I said no because, like, I’m not and I didn’t think you were, and then Liv said it was the same with her and Harrison and now it’s like, clearly she was wrong and I’m just wondering if...you know...I’m wrong.”
“Oh,” Tom said again, which wasn’t very helpful, but then you heard the wheels of your chair rolling across the floor as he scooted towards you, making you look up as he stopped in front of you. “You’re not wrong.”
“Oh.”
“I’m not seeing anyone else. Or like, texting anyone or whatever, and I don’t...want to? Like I’m not interested in other people… ‘cause I… like… you.”
Oh.
“Oh. Good. I mean- yeah, cool,” you nodded, watching as Tom’s hand came to rest on your knee. “I mean, I like you, too.”
“Cool,” he smiled, mimicking your tone.
“So like- hm,” you sighed, pressing your fingertips against the dips between Tom’s knuckles one by one as you considered what to say next. “She also - Ruby, I mean - asked me if you were my boyfriend, and I said no, but-”
“But?”
You blinked at him, your hand hovering over his. “...I dunno…”
“I wouldn’t mind if you’d said yeah.”
“...yeah?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, lifting his hand from your knee and linking his fingers between your own. “I’d be happy to be your boyfriend if you wanted me to be.”
“Okay,” you smiled, biting down gently on your bottom lip as you nodded. “Cool.”
You didn’t really know what else to say, but thankfully you were saved from having to think of anything by Tom’s free hand tilting your face up to his, his lips finding yours in a soft kiss. Well, it started soft, his lips just barely brushing over yours, but by the time you pulled apart you’d tossed aside the towel in your arms, one of your hands on his thigh and the other on his cheek, while his hands rested either side of you on the bed. Your foreheads pressed together, you hummed as you searched for words.
“Anyway, uh, sorry, yeah - did you want to shower?”
“Eh, I can shower later.”
You ran your thumb across his cheekbone as his lips gently prised apart your own, smiling into the kiss. Your other hand moved to his waist as your bodies shifted, holding onto his t shirt as you lay back on the bed. You held his body close to yours as he lay down on top of you, hitching one leg up over his hip. It wasn’t long before his lips left yours and started travelling south, down your neck and chest. You tilted your head back to give him more room, moaning softly when he sucked on your skin harshly, pulling down the front of your top. He tried to pull it down further, but unfortunately it just wasn’t going any further.
“Lemme just-”
“--yeah.”
You sat up a little, pulling your top off over your head with some assistance from Tom, who quickly tossed it onto the floor as soon as it was free of your body. Kissing down your chest, his hands massaged your breasts through your bra. You lay back on the bed as he pulled down one of the cups, your breath hitching sharply when you felt him flick your nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Running your fingers through his hair, you arched your back to bring your body closer to his as he repeated his actions on your other breast, before continuing his way down your body. He pressed kisses to your stomach, undoing the button on your jeans as he shuffled down the bed, until he was about to slide off the end - he didn’t, thankfully, but he did get off the bed. Kneeling on the floor, he tugged your jeans off your legs, your slippers going with them into the pile of clothes Tom was quickly forming on your freshly-tidied floor. Your bum perched on the edge of the bed, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. You watched with bated breath as he kissed along your inner thighs, making his way up from your knee, across your hips as he tucked his fingers under the band of your knickers, and down to your opposite knee as he pulled them down.
Your underwear cast aside, Tom knelt back on the floor, his hands on the backs of your thighs as you lifted your legs, bending your knees so that your feet were planted on the edge of the bed. You took a shaky breath in as you felt his breath fanning over you for a moment before his tongue darted out, circling your entrance slowly before moving upwards. You held your breath until he reached your clit, the touch of his tongue so gentle it almost tickled. The sensation made you twitch, your hips bucking up against his face - not on purpose, but you couldn’t really move in any other direction.
Intentional or not, it was enough to make him change tack completely. You gasped as his mouth moved against you much more firmly and more purposefully, his grip on your thighs tightening as his tongue dipped inside you. Your toes curled as he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue back and forth over it as you lay back and let your fingers toy with your nipples.
After a while one of his hands left your thigh, and you felt his mouth leaving your pussy for a second, then his damp finger pushing inside you slowly a moment later. You hummed appreciatively at the feeling of something inside you, grinding down onto his hand instinctively. His tongue massaging your clit, Tom soon added a second finger, scissoring them inside you and stretching you open. You could feel his thumb and the rest of his fingers pressing against you as he slid his fingers in and out, a warmth of pleasure building up inside you with each movement.
His breathing heavy on your soft skin, Tom pulled back slightly, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inside of your thigh as he twisted his wrist. His hand now palm-up, he crooked his fingers so that they brushed against that spot in your walls.
“Oh fuck,” you breathed, swallowing hard as you stared up at the ceiling.
Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs tensing as he repeated his movements, just his fingertips working your g-spot. You felt like your insides were twisting, tight and ready to snap at any moment, your breathing hitching as Tom scattered kisses across your skin until he was back where you needed him to be, his tongue firmly back on your clit, and suddenly you were coming.
Squeezing your breast, you tweaked your nipple between your fingers as you moaned breathlessly, your heels lifting off the bed as your legs tensed up. Tom just kept going, fingers curling and tongue flicking until your legs gave out and dangled over the edge of the bed once more, your body slumping against the mattress. He went back to kissing your thighs as he sat back on his heels, wiping his fingers on his joggers.
Propping yourself up on your elbows again, you looked down at him as you caught your breath and your mind began to clear. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his cheeks flushed and his lips pink and shiny.
“You’re really good at that.”
“Thanks,” he chuckled, the sound coming out a bit muffled as he pulled his t shirt off over his head at the same time.
You sat up more as he reached over to your bedside cabinet, your eyes drawn to the outline of his dick that was very visible through his joggers. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, tugging the bottom one between your teeth to nibble on it gently before you spoke.
“Actually, um, I was gonna say… I’m on the pill. So like, if we’re just, you know,” you gestured between the two of you, shrugging. “With each other then…”
“Oh,” he paused, his hand still on the drawer handle.
“Don’t really need to - I mean, if you still want to that’s fine.”
“No, no,” Tom shook his head, sitting back down where he was before. “If you’re good, I’m good.”
“I’m assuming you would have told me before now if you had anything…” you wrinkled your nose, wiggling your fingers in the direction of his crotch. “...nasty.”
He laughed, shaking his head again.
“Yeah, no, I’m all good there.”
“Cool,” you nodded, grinning. “...me too.”
“Cool.”
Without further ado, Tom stood up, taking off his joggers and boxers. Standing back between your legs, he hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up, leaning down and kissing you softly before letting you lie back on the bed. You swallowed thickly as his hands trailed over your thighs, spreading them apart before he wrapped his fingers around his length, rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. You whined as he nudged your clit, biting down on your lip as he gradually pushed inside you an inch at a time. Tom groaned once he fully sank into you, his hands coming to rest on the bed either side of your waist as he leant over you. You couldn’t really do very much except lie there, your legs bent up either side of his hips as he started to thrust into you, slowly and steadily, so you just took him in, your eyes raking over his body above you; his chest, his shoulders, the column of his throat, the hard line of his jaw.
You held onto his arms, your fingers digging into the muscle as his thrusts began to speed up, your body jerking with each snap of his hips against your own. It felt so good, soft moans falling from your lips, but after a while his movements started to slow. With longer, deeper thrusts, Tom leant down closer to you, until his face was buried in your neck and you heard him groan.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing off against the bed to hold himself up over you. “My feet are slipping.”
“S’okay,” you laughed, almost relieved - for a moment there you thought he was gonna say he’d come already, which would have been less than ideal.
You sat up as Tom pulled back, slipping out of you as he straightened up, and you realised that he had been at kind of a weird angle, his feet on the floor but his body tilted over yours.
“Okay, uh...”
You thought for a moment before getting to your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders to help pull yourself up. Kneeling on the bed, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a kiss - because you might as well, while you were there. You could feel his dick pressing against you as you kissed, so you trailed one hand down his chest and wrapped your fingers around his length. Tom groaned as you stroked his cock, your thumb rubbing over the tip smoothly as you pressed another kiss to his lips (and another, and another...) before you pulled back, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip as you went.
Shuffling on the bed so that your back was to him, you looked back over your shoulder at him as you bent over, arching your back and sticking your ass out as you got on all fours. You just caught a glimpse of his grin before you turned back around, following his lead as he grabbed your hips and pulled your body closer to his. You closed your eyes as you felt him rub his cock along your folds again, both of you groaning as he eased back inside you.
It occured to you then that you were home alone, so really you could be as loud as you liked. As far as you were concerned, making noise during sex was a lot like singing along to a good song: sure, humming along and nodding your head was alright, but you enjoyed it more if you could really get into it and belt out the lyrics. So with that in mind, you let yourself pant out moans and curses as much as you wanted, gripping the sheets beneath you and pushing back to meet Tom’s thrusts, his cock hitting deep inside you each time.
“Fuck…” Tom groaned under his breath, “can I slap your arse?”
You didn’t really think about it, you just breathed out the word ‘yeah’ in between moans, and then a moment later you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass cheek, and then his fingers digging into your skin as he squeezed the same cheek, his palm pressed to the tingling skin as his thrusts slowed to a stop, his cock buried deep inside you. Interesting. You decided you preferred a good firm squeeze to a slap, but at least now you knew.
Pushing back against him, you rolled your hips in a circle, grinding on his cock to try and urge him to move again. You moaned his name when you felt him nudge that spot inside you, and that seemed to do the trick. His breathing heavy behind you, Tom thrust into you at the same angle, again and again. Your jaw went slack, your mouth hanging open as he kept going, unable to form any sort of coherent sound as he pounded into you faster and harder.
Your shoulders slumped as you let him take control of your body, his cock slipping out of you as you dropped down onto the bed - though he was quick to fix that, a gutteral ‘fuck’ escaping from his lips as he scrambled to reposition himself. His hands were back on your hips in an instant, keeping your ass in the air. Your chest pressed to the sheets and the force of his movements jerking your body back and forth, your bra rubbed against your hard nipples with each thrust, only adding to the pleasure coursing through your body - and then you reached down and pressed your middle finger to your clit, and you were done for.
“I- shit - I’m gonna come-”
“Fuck-”
You barely heard Tom swear behind you as your whole body tensed, your eyes squeezing shut and your pussy clenching around his cock as you started to come. You moaned loudly, your body jerking as your thighs twiched, until the knot in your stomach snapped, sending pleasure flooding through you, all the way to the tips of your toes. All the tension went out of your body and your mind went blank, only vaguely aware of Tom’s thrusts stopping suddenly, his hips pressed firmly against your ass as he came inside you with a loud moan of his own.
With shaky arms you pushed yourself up onto your hands and knees, your head hanging down as you tried to catch your breath, blinking furiously to try to get your eyes and mind to focus properly.
“Shit,” you breathed after a moment, finally looking back at Tom.
He just chuckled breathlessly as you caught his eye, grinding into you one last time before he pulled out - and as soon as he did, you realised there was something you’d forgotten about. Without a condom, well - what goes up, must come down.
“Um…” you hummed as you turned onto your back carefully, already feeling his come starting to drip out of you. “Can you get me a tissue please?”
“Oh fuck yeah, sorry… ”
Pressing the tissues he passed you between your legs, you sat up a bit on the bed as Tom grabbed some tissues for himself.
“So that shower-” you started, breaking off with a giggle when Tom laughed. “Mind if I join you?”
“Sure.”
You nodded, but sat there for a moment longer. You really couldn’t be bothered getting up… but you should. You can do this.
You eventually got to your feet - with some help from Tom tugging on your hands until you were vertical and about to fall on top of him. Waddling slightly to keep the tissue between your legs, you went over to get your dressing gown off the back of your door as you took off your bra. You debated which one to go for, strongly tempted by the fluffy one, but eventually decided on the silky, “sexy” one, offering the fluffy one to Tom instead.
“D’you want this?”
“Oh,” he looked over from where he was trying to untangle his boxers from his joggers, dropping them back on the floor once he saw what you were offering. “Yeah, thanks.”
Wrapping your robe around your body, you took your own towel off its hook on the back of your door as Tom grabbed the one you’d given him, shaking it out after picking it up off the floor.
“Do you need like, a hair towel? Do boys use a hair towel?”
“A what?” Tom looked at you with a confused smile as he tied the tie of your dressing gown around his waist.
“Like another towel...for your hair…” you trailed off, not really sure how else to explain.
“Oh, to do the twisty thing!” he gestured as he spoke, moving his fingers in a swirl to demonstrate ‘the twisty thing’. “No thanks, I’m good.”
“Okay - I don’t know I just thought I’d ask.”
“Do you not need one?” Tom asked as you made your way downstairs towards the bathroom.
“Oh, no, I’m not gonna wash my hair.” You hung your towel on the back of the bathroom door, stepping aside to let Tom do the same. “So please don’t get my hair wet.”
“Right - I’ll do my best.”
The bathroom felt smaller than you remembered it being, but maybe that was because you’d only really ever been in there on your own - with a few exceptions (e.g. you and one or both of the girls had been running late and had to brush your teeth at the same time, or you’d been having a conversation at predrinks that was way too important to stop just because someone had to pee). Tom tried to keep out of your way as you fiddled with the taps on the bath, getting the temperature right before you switched the water flow to the shower attachment that was mounted to the wall.
“You have a lot of… stuff…” he pointed to the bottles clustered together on three of the four corners of the bath tub.
“I mean it’s not all mine, there are three of us,” you explained while you tried to toss the wad of tissue from between your legs into the toilet without him noticing.
“I guess,” he shrugged, not sounding convinced. “There’s three of us in my house and we don’t have that much stuff.”
“Yeah but you’re three boys,” you pointed out, as if that was an obvious explanation for the difference.
Taking off your robe and placing it on the radiator, you shivered slightly. Admittedly it wasn’t particularly warm in the bathroom, but you also just felt kind of strange being like hiya, I’m naked again now. It was different when you were having sex, but now it was out of context almost.
It was a bit better once you got under the water though, careful to keep your head away from the spray as Tom took off his dressing gown and stepped in after you. You had to maneuver around each other so that you were both at least partly under the water, which was only really possible if you stood really close together, face to face but side on to the stream of water, but you didn’t really mind that - and apparently neither did he.
“Hi,” he muttered, his arms wrapping around your waist as yours draped around his shoulders before he kissed you.
“...hi,” you mumbled against his lips, trying and failing miserably to stop yourself smiling like a big dumb idiot.
“So,” his hands shifted from your hips to your bum, sliding easily over your wet skin. “What’d you think?”
You just looked at him blankly, your head tilting in silent question.
“You know…” he trailed off, which wasn’t very helpful because you clearly didn’t know, but then he tapped your bum lightly with his hand, the action making a disproportionately loud smack because of the water, and it clicked.
“Oh! Uh, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “Like if you want to do that I don’t mind but like, don’t do it just for my benefit.”
Tom nodded, humming.
“Right, okay.”
“...sorry.”
You didn’t really know why you apologised, it just came out because he looked… not exactly disappointed, but not delighted either. He shook his head though, his expression shifting to one that plainly said you needn't have apologised.
“Nah don’t be silly. I don’t really mind either way, just wanted to try it, you know?”
“Oh right, okay. Well… now we know.”
“Now we know,” he repeated your words back to you, a smile spreading across his face when you laughed. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Your fingers tangling in his hair, you simply pulled Tom’s face closer to yours so you could kiss him without getting your face wet. You could feel him smiling against your lips before you kissed him, and again after before he spoke.
“Okay,” he murmured in between kisses. “We should probably,” kiss “actually shower” kiss “at some point…”
“Okay,” you matched his tone, but you weren’t about to be the one to put a stop to the series of kisses you were trading back and forth.
“Okay,” Tom said again after an indeterminate amount of time, but he actually did stop kissing you this time, which frankly was a bit rude. “Which section of The Body Shop is yours?”
“Ha ha,” you tried to keep your face stoic as you pretended to laugh, but it didn’t really work. “Behind you.”
You did your best to avoid the water splashing off of Tom’s body as he turned around, not wanting to get your face wet because you still had make up on, and you figured that mascara running down your face probably wasn’t a good look for you.
“Oh right, of course,” he said as he turned back to face you, holding your warm vanilla shower gel (which, ironically, was actually from The Body Shop). “This explains so much.”
“What do you mean?” you frowned, taking your shower puff off the hook on the wall and holding it out for him to squirt some of the gel onto.
“Like you always smell really… I dunno, vanilla-y.” He put some gel out onto his hand before setting the bottle back down. You had been about to offer him some of the more boyish stuff Madison had for when Jack visited, but it was too late now. “Like that’s your thing.”
You thought about it as you both lathered up, bubbles quickly foaming across your bodies.
“I guess? I think I got it as a Christmas present or something.”
“But you have like, vanilla candles and you get vanilla lattes and, I dunno, don’t you have a lipgloss or something that’s vanilla?”
You’d never really thought about it before, but you supposed he was right. It made you feel all khgshglhsfshgiu that he’d noticed things like that about you though, so you just hummed as you scrubbed at your chest and arms.
“Want me to do your back?”
“Oh, uh - yeah, thanks.”
Passing him your shower puff, you turned around, careful not to slip in the small space. You sighed as you felt the hot water cascading down your back, dipping your head forwards to try and keep your hair out of the way as Tom gently rubbed the puff over your skin. You closed your eyes, letting your body relax as he washed your shoulders and your back - only to tense up again when his wet hair tickled your skin as he kissed your neck, his arms looping around around your waist once he was done.
“Ahhh that tickles!” you giggled, turning back around in his arms.
“Sorry.”
He didn’t look a bit sorry, but you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek all the same.
Taking your shower puff back and hanging it up again, you took turns on who was more under the water so that you could both rinse off. Tom was shampooing his hair while you were under the water, and as you rinsed the suds from your back you realised that there was one part of you hadn’t washed yet, and for whatever reason you didn’t want to just be like ok I’m gonna wash my vag now! You’d noticed Tom had given himself a quick scrub while he was under the water, but you knew you’d have to be a bit more thorough than that, and unfortunately your anatomy meant that everything was at a much less accessible angle than it was for him.
“Um,” you cleared your throat, not really sure how to word what you were wanting to say. “I’m sorry, can you like, turn around while I wash my… bits?”
“What?” Tom laughed, still lathering shampoo into his hair.
“I don’t knowww,” you groaned. “I just - please?”
“Okay, okay, sure.”
With that you both turned around so you were back to back, you facing the shower and him facing the end of the bath. It was stupid, you knew it was, but you still felt better that he wasn’t watching you as you took the shower head off the wall to wash between your legs.
“‘Kay, I’m done,” you placed the shower head back in its place, swapping places with Tom so he was under the water again to rinse the shampoo from his hair.
You didn’t really have anything else to do then, having already had a shower earlier in the day, and while it was nice to watch Tom tilt his head back as the water washed over him, it was cold out of the water, and the droplets on your body were cooling rapidly, and so you’d like to either be back under the hot water or under a blanket in some warm pjs. You had a feeling that if you got back under the water with Tom you might never get out, though, so you made the tough decision to just get out.
“I’m gonna get out.”
Tom just nodded to show he’d heard you, his eyes and mouth tight shut so he didn’t get shampoo in them.
Stepping out of the shower and grabbing your towel, you dried yourself off a bit before wrapping your towel around your body, pulling your robe on over the top. By then Tom had finished too, turning the taps off and taking the towel you passed him, using it to scrub his hair before wrapping it around his waist and joining you on the bath mat. You were a bit jealous when he put your dressing gown back on, all warm off the radiator - your silky robe wasn’t nearly as snuggly.
But, soon enough you were dried and moisturised and dressed, and you weren’t jealous anymore, because Tom had brought you the pair of pyjama bottoms you usually wore when you stayed at his, and you had his hoodie, and those were just as good if not better than a warm dressing gown. Tom sat on your bed, setting up movies to watch on your laptop while you took off your make up and just generally fiddled about with various skincare products that you weren’t really sure actually did anything.
Once that was done, your face successfully cleansed and toned and whatever-else’d, you figured you should make the most of your free house, so you took your laptop downstairs to plug into the TV. Tom ordered the Chinese food while you made cups of tea for you both, and soon enough you were curled up on the sofa watching a movie and wondering how and why you managed to eat so much food. You managed to get the whole way through Shutter Island, and you’d planned to watch Legally Blonde too, only by the time you’d put the leftovers away and everything you were almost falling asleep so you decided to leave it until the next day (though when you actually got into bed you didn’t exactly go straight to sleep, but anyway…)
The following day consisted mainly of eating Chinese leftovers, watching Legally Blonde and drinking lots of cups of tea - and that was absolutely 100% fine with both of you. Sometime in the late afternoon, you decided to take a break from movies for a while, having ticked off one from both your lists - so, naturally, you switched to Friends on Netflix.
A couple of episodes in, ‘The One With All The Rugby’ came on, and you realised then you didn’t really have any idea what an actual rugby game looked like. You weren’t even sure if that was the right term - was it game or match? Both? Either? Neither? That wasn’t your main concern though, you were more concerned about everyone acting all weird and worried about Ross playing rugby.
“It’s not really that bad, is it?” you asked Tom, looking over at him beside you on the sofa, your legs curled up under you and a pile of blankets across you both.
“Nah, they’re just being dramatic - Americans, you know?”
You just hummed, looking back at the TV.
“Do you wear knee pads?”
“No,” Tom laughed, shaking his head.
“Hmm,” you said again, watching Ross stumble around all covered in blood and mud (despite his knee pads). “Is that what you’re going to look like on Wednesday?”
“Nah, don’t worry. I don’t actually go in the scrum anyway I just like, feed the ball in and then take it out the back.”
“...right.”
Tom spent the next twenty minutes trying to explain the rules and positions to you, and by the end of it your grasp on the difference between a maul and a ruck was tenuous at best. But, you knew what a try and a conversion were, so that was something - and anyway, you figured you’d just kind of gauge by the atmosphere and the score how it was going, and you’d be happy if he could still walk properly at the end of it.
“...anyway, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“Oh no, I want to come,” you nodded enthusiastically, looking up from where you’d been playing with the hairs at the back of Tom’s neck. He’d just let his hair air dry last night, and it had grown back enough now that it was remarkably curly when given the chance, and as such you hadn’t been able to stop fiddling with it all day.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, ‘course,” you nodded again, a bit taken aback by the uncertainty in his voice. “Can’t wait to see you in your little shorts.”
“Oh fuck off-”
You just laughed as Tom groaned, leaning away from you so you couldn’t reach his hair anymore, the smile tugging at the corners of his lips giving him away though he was trying so hard to look annoyed.
⋘ FOURTEEN | SIXTEEN ⋙
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#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfic#tom holland imagine#tom holland blurb#tom holland headcanon#tom holland smut#tom holland fluff#tom holland uni au#student! tom holland
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Chapter three! I already skimmed through it and just. Holy fuck I’m falling in love with this series all over again, and this is just the opening arc, how the hell is this so good??? I’m genuinely just in awe and fuck is it making it hard to decide where to have a cut-off point for this chapter. I suppose we’ll just have to see what fate decides.
(Also, the temptation to just paste in all of the last three pages of the chapter is so incredibly strong, you don’t understand.)
[No. 3 - Entrance Exam]
We start off with some exposition: UA’s hero course is designed to give students all they need to go pro, and is the toughest and most popular hero course in the country, with only a 1 in 300 acceptance rate. Discounting the four slots that are recommendation students, that’s 36 slots a year, which is about…
Yeah. That’s a lotta applications, and that’s just for the hero course!
Several alumni are mentioned: All Might, who declined the people’s choice award; Endeavor, who’s stopped more crimes than anyone else in recorded history; and Best Jeanist, who’s won the Best Jeanist award eight years running. (One of these things is not like the other~ One of these things just doesn’t belong~) The exposition suggests that graduating from UA is basically a requirement for becoming a great hero - something which we’ll learn soon enough isn’t quite true.
But yeah, Endeavor with the record for crime handling, even above All Might. Quite the impressive hero, though that face…
Not precisely reassuring.
So yeah, Izuku here mentions the date of the exam - February 26th. I figure that this has to be a Sunday, for the simple fact that Japan has a slightly different school schedule than us. Most notably: Japanese schools (some of them, anyways) have 5.5 day school weeks. Yes, that means the first half of Saturday can still be a school day.
While I couldn’t confirm for sure whether this is more common among the higher end schools, I feel like a school like UA, with its ‘Plus Ultra’ motto, would definitely be a school to have a half-day (or even a full day) on Saturdays, and since they also have to accomodate for middle schools that have Saturday morning classes, I figure that it would make the most sense for UA to schedule this exam on a Sunday.
The benefits of this, as we’ve already seen, is that we can then narrow down the timeline for the rest of the series, just based on that single, confirmed date. We know from the last chapter that the Sludge Villain had to happen on a Thursday or Friday of the first week of school (April 14th/15th), with the first training session two days later (the 16th/17th). But what this also gives us is when Izuku’s first year of UA starts, AND the possible years it could start on.
Since we see the glowing baby is in a modern hospital, we can assume that’s correlated to about our times. Give it a few generations, and we can guess that we’re in the 2200s or 2300s for the current era. Based on that assumption, we get the following years that have February 26th on a Sunday:
23rd century potential years: 2204, 2209, 2215, 2226, 2232, 2237, 2243, 2254, 2260, 2265, 2271, 2282, 2288, 2293, 2299
24th century potential years: 2310, 2316, 2321, 2327, 2338, 2344, 2349, 2355, 2366, 2372, 2377, 2383, 2394, 2400
As a side note, when I got into the series, my brain weirdly latched onto the idea that this had to all be happening in the year 2317. I don’t know why I decided on that number, but that’s what I rolled with, and hilariously I could be RIGHT about the year the current manga arc is happening in, provided Izuku’s first year is in 2316. Sometimes you just know, ya know? I know at least one other friend made these calcs independently of me and chose to run with 2237, which is totally valid! Probably makes more sense to be in the 2200s, but there’s room depending on how much time one thinks has passed.
As for when Izuku’s high school school year starts, we know that Japanese schools start on the second Monday of April. Since we don’t know if this is a leap year or not, we’ll end up with two dates, but that’s fine!
Feb 26 (Sun) -> Feb 27 (Mon) -> March (6/5, 13/12, 20/19, 27/26) -> April (3/2, 10/9)
Therefore, Izuku’s first day of classes (not counting the orientation, which I’ve seen a few other timelines assume is on the Sunday before classes start) is April 10th (or the 9th if a leap year)! I know this is all in the future from this chapter, but still, I wanted to share this at some point and figured now was as good a time as always.
Math!
Sorry, I’ve just wanted to share this math I did for a while now, I put a lot of work into it and I am very proud of it. Let’s get back to the chapter.
So Izuku lives a 40 minute train ride away from UA, and has made it just in time for the exam. Apparently, this is only the practical portion? Or well, that’s the part that gets focused on in this chapter, with no mention of the paper exam. I would imagine they’d be the same day, though? But I suppose one can do whatever they like with it.
He’s standing there looking at the school, thinking about how he didn’t have a chance to test the power, while the other students head in-
Excuse me, Toga?? I know that hairstyle is just a bit off, but… ???
...right, anyways. Izuku is wondering whether the hair really did anything (also, it was apparently sour, which, ew.) Katsuki comes up behind him and tells him to move aside.
Truly a flattering image. Izuku panics a bit and greets him, but Katsuki just walks by without another word or gesture, leaving Izuku confused as he watches him head on into the building. The narrative notes that since the villain incident, Katsuki hadn’t bothered Izuku, while the unnamed characters in the background apparently recognize Katsuki from the ‘sludge’ incident (well, not shocked how the fandom held onto that name).
Izuku notes that he’s gotta stop flinching instinctively, and then tries to hype himself up, noting that it’s not like before, and think about the past ten months while taking a wobbly step forward- and then tripping over himself.
I’m sorry Izuku just has so many fantastic faces in this chapter I am crying trying to limit myself to just a few. But yeah, that little derp as he realizes what’s happening is adorable, especially while Ochako gently sets him back on his feet. She mentions that it’s her quirk, and apologizes for using it, but that it’s a bad omen to trip and fall. (I wonder if that gets played with again during later parts of the series… will have to check to see.)
While Izuku freaks out over talking to a girl, Ochako notes that the exam is nerve-wracking, and then heads off while wishing both of them luck as Izuku stares after.
This fucking kid. I love him so much. His flustered excitement gets him some weird looks from the others still outside.
We transition to a new character (Present Mic) who immediately shows off his performative side by calling for a ‘hey!’ which… is met with silence from the crowd. He doesn’t let this throw him off, instead letting them know that he’ll present the guidelines for the practical, followed with a ‘YEAH!’ that gets met with an even heavier silence.
Izuku and Katsuki are seated next to each other, with Izuku descending right into excited muttering over Present Mic and how he listens to his radio show every week. Also with the assumption that all the UA teachers are pro heroes, which I mean, true, but still. Katsuki tells Izuku to shut up.
Present Mic explains the test: ten minute long ‘mock cityscape maneuvers’, with the applicants split among seven arenas, labelled ‘A’ through ‘G’. With more than 10k applicants total, that’s about…
Yeah, more than 1500 per arena. Fucking hell, no wonder the robots deplete so quickly in only a few minutes. Also of interest:
“Bring along whatever you want.” So technically, if Izuku were able to procure the tech and training to handle the robots, there would be nothing keeping him from getting into UA quirkless… though I imagine any kid who gets in mostly on tech probably gets side-eyed… though if said kid made their OWN tech, they might also get an offer from the Support department.
(AU where Mei accidentally took the heroics exam and got a shitload of points, but she ended up taking the offer for Support instead despite setting the record for most points in said exam. Katsuki forever wants to fight her. Izuku and her are good friends.)
Also, another thing I love is how Katsuki just told Izuku to shut up a moment ago, and then:
He’s the one to initiate conversation on the details of the test, basically agreeing on the reasoning behind dividing up the students between arenas. Katsuki is annoyed at not being able to crush Izuku, which has Izuku awkwardly silent.
Also mini-Mic.
Poor, poor Mic. He just wants audience participation. Anyways, he continues on to explain the points system, with the help of cute little Mario-themed silhouettes. There are three kinds of faux villains, with different points awarded for defeating each based on their difficulty levels. Also, attacking other examinees is prohibited!
A student (cough Tenya) raises their hand to ask a question, going on to note that the handout sheet appears to have four varieties of villain, and that such a blatant error (if it is one) reflects poorly on Japan’s top academy. He then spins around and points at Izuku, calling him out for his muttering and how distracting he’s been, and that ‘if this is some sort of game to you, then please leave immediately!’
Is that… Mineta seated behind Izuku? I can’t find another panel that disproves that theory, so. Whelp. If you ever for some reason want to have Izuku accidentally deal with the grape early, he’s right there.
Anyways, Present Mic brings the convo back to the initial question/comment, noting that the fourth villain is worth zero points, and is more of an obstacle. He then brings up Super Mario Brothers, the old retro game, and compares the Zero Pointer to a thwomp. There’s one per site, serving as a gimmick that’ll rampage in close quarters. Tenya thanks Mic and apologizes for the interruption.
And so we get our final words from Present Mic:
??? either he's referencing the original guy (which I think would be a misquote because I doubt OG Nap ever noted anything like that) or some French hero or the like who took on the name.
Discord offered this to me while putting together the post:
So there you have it. Tentatively confirmed.
Those EYES man, dude’s got the Rinnegan going on.
Honestly, I have to end on this panel just because of that last line from Present Mic. Like, look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t the exact point to end on.
The discord’s takeaway from this:
#chapter 3#opening arcs#readthrough#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#midoriya izuku#bakugou katsuki#uraraka ochako#yamada hizashi#iida tenya#I seriously cannot believe they actually said 'break a leg' while Midoriya Izuku was in the area#like talk about tempting fate#and that little bow#like 'yes sir i will do my best to break a leg'#'in fact i will break both legs AND an arm'#'Plus Ultra!'
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A New World of Wedded Bliss
A homily on Mark 10:2-16,
preached at Trinity Cathedral, Pittsburgh,
on the Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost 2021
In the Name of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.
One of the things I like about preaching in the Episcopal Church is that we preachers don’t get to choose our own Bible passages. They’re decided for us by the lectionary, the schedule of readings or “lessons” that we share with a lot of other churches, including the Roman Catholic Church. The good thing about that is that it keeps you from being subject to my particular whims as to what to preach on. And it keeps me and the other preachers here honest: we are forced to confront passages we’d maybe rather not talk about. We’re forced to grapple with what St. Paul referred to as “the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27) — the entire sweep of what God has spoken, even the bits we’re confused about or resistant to or scared of.
I confess, I would rather not have to preach about Jesus’ challenging words from our Gospel reading today. And, truthfully, I could wriggle out of it by choosing to preach on one of our other readings for this morning; that’s always an option. But I remember what I once heard a great preacher say: if your preaching is consistently failing to address the questions that your congregation has about the Bible, then you’re going to frustrate your congregation. I know many of you were paying attention as the Gospel was read just now, and I know you were probably struggling to relate Jesus’ words to your own histories and families and relationships. How do we make that connection? — that linkage between what Jesus says and the lives we’re actually living? That’s what preaching is meant to help you do, and so, with God’s help, I’m going to try this morning.
As I was thinking about our Gospel lesson this week, I came across an article in the New York Times, published this past Thursday. Written by Lara Bazelon, it was titled: “Divorce Can Be an Act of Radical Self-Love.” The author talks about how she felt her marriage was keeping her from living fully into her sense of purpose and gifting. She says upfront that there was no emotional or physical abuse and that she is still in love with her ex, even after the divorce. Then she says: “I divorced my husband not because I didn’t love him. I divorced him because I loved myself more.” And here’s how the article concludes: “I no longer think of divorce as shameful or feel sorry for people who tell me that they have decided to end their marriages… My divorce spared my children… pain and let me live the life I was meant to. I view that as an accomplishment.”
I am fully aware that, in our fallen, broken world, divorce is sometimes necessary, sometimes best. But I think the way this article frames the matter — that divorce isn’t something to feel sad about, to mourn over — doesn’t do justice to the way many of us experience divorce. We may feel that our marriage had to end, but that doesn’t take away the ache we still feel, the wistfulness and sadness and self-doubt that can still stab us at odd moments. We may feel that we made the best choice, given the circumstances, but that doesn’t stop us from feeling like we let ourselves down — or let our ex-partner, or our children, or our parents, or our priest down.
One of the gifts our Gospel reading gives us this morning is permission to mourn divorce. If you still lament the divorce you went through, or your parents went through, or your sibling or best friend went through — if, no matter how many positive self-help podcasts you’ve listened to or therapies you’ve invested in, you still feel somehow that divorce is a tragic thing — then you can take some comfort in our reading this morning. Because the main message of it is: It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Let’s rehearse the details. Some religious leaders come to Jesus, who himself is a publicly recognized religious teacher and authority, and they pose an ethical question. They ask him whether it’s a lawful to divorce one’s wife (notice, they, who are men, don’t ask anything about the wife; her perspective and protection don’t seem to matter to them). Secretly, they’re setting a trap for Jesus. They themselves aren’t in agreement about the religious legality of divorce, and by trying to force Jesus to pick a side in their debate, they expect he’ll embarrass himself with a large segment of his audience, one way or the other, and that’s exactly what they want. In short, they’re using a debate about divorce as an opportunity to try to drag Jesus down into a partisan spat and thereby discredit him.
True to form, Jesus doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he turns the question back on them: “What did Moses command you?” In other words, what does our shared Scripture have to say about the matter? Jesus asks. And they point out, rightly enough, that the Jewish law allows a man to divorce his wife. And then Jesus takes them off guard and reorients the entire conversation by reminding them that in the same law — the Jewish law, the Torah, that permits divorce — there’s the story at the very beginning, in the very first two chapters of the Bible, before any evil has marred the story, of God creating a man and a woman and blessing them to become “one flesh,” one new indissoluble pair. So, Jesus says, it must be because we are fallen and diminished and rendered incapable of keeping even the commitments that we most want to keep — that must be why divorce happens, because in the Bible’s depiction of the bliss of human life as God wants it to be, divorce isn’t part of the picture at all. “Because of your hardness of heart,” Jesus says, the law of Moses permitted divorce. “But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’” In the world as God wants it to be, there simply are no autonomous selves in a marriage to tweeze apart in divorce.
Jesus, in other words, is simply refusing to be drawn into a debate as to when divorce is appropriate or inappropriate, when it may be justified or merely frivolous. He’s calling us to imagine a world without divorce on the table as an option at all. He’s inviting us to imagine existing in an atmosphere where love really is everything it’s cracked up to be, where promises really are kept, and violence and indifference and cruelty and boredom and spite really are nowhere to be seen. He’s calling us to imagine a world that doesn’t exist, in other words.
Except… maybe it does.
One of the scarlet threads that runs through the entire Bible, both Old and New Testaments, is that God has a spouse. God’s spouse is you and me. God’s spouse is Israel, His chosen people. God’s spouse is the church of Jesus Christ, Jesus being portrayed as the Bridegroom and we, His people, as His bride. And in the story Scripture tells, from beginning to end, God does not divorce us. No matter how many times we rebuff God, or thumb our noses at God, or give God the cold shoulder, or storm out and slam the door in God’s face, God goes on loving us. God loves and loves and loves us, all the way to whatever miserable end we find our path to, and then God loves us beyond that, opening up a future for us, forgiving us of all the ways we’ve turned our backs on God and others, and promising us a new creation in which there will be no more grief, despair, loneliness, resentment, abuse, neglect, or anything else that would try to undo our bonds with each other. In Jesus Christ God goes all the way down into death for us, and in Christ’s resurrection on Easter Sunday morning we see the ultimate triumph of God’s covenant love for us. From now on, nothing “in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:39).
The new world imagined by Jesus is here. It has arrived already. It has broken into our present, and it is remaking us. We can even now, stumbling attempt after flawed stumbling attempt, begin to live in light of it, to embody its promise, to partake of and revel in its audacious wholeness.
In the one of the very last scenes of the Bible, one of the early Christian prophets says that he saw a vision of us, the church, the people of God, appearing before God as God’s bride. And then he hears a heavenly voice that says this:
See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.
May that new world, which is here right now among us in and through our risen Lord Jesus, come in all its radiance and wonder and fullness. And may we taste the promise-keeping, covenant love of God in the supper of the Lamb which we’re about to eat.
Amen.
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Player’s Cigarette Mate - James Potter
002. player’s cigarette mate
PAIRING; James Potter x Reader
HOUSE; Gryffindor
YEAR; Sixth and Seventh
DATE; October 27th, 2019
WORD COUNT; 8605
WARNING; A real lot, bad words, SMOKING (if you didn't get it from the title), underage drinking, and kissing.
A/N; So, this is my first one shot after a real long ass time. But I like to think I have improved in writing. But for those of you who like my original one shots, I will be eventually re-writing those. I just don't know when.
TRAILER; in which a girl's bad habit turns into a good one.
-
It was a cold November evening, Saturday, when it first happened.
She had snuck up to the Astronomy Tower after Olivia had finally stopped giggling about Thomas MacMillian, a sixth year Hufflepuff prefect, complimenting her new haircut. Y/N thought she ought to have been flattered as well, since she was the one that originally cut Marlene's hair—and it did look fantastic—but there was a limited amount of time one could spend talking about Thomas' baby blue eyes and two hours had been more than enough for her.
Thanking Merlin, God, and many other great witches, wizards and deities, Y/N rolled across her bed searching her drawer for the small purse. Upon finding it she quietly departed from the dormitory hoping she wouldn't encounter anyone in the common room. Luck was on her side, for the room was indeed empty despite it being only mere thirteen minutes after midnight on a Saturday night. The h/c haired girl quickly tiptoed to the entrance door, leaving the Gryffindor Common Room behind as the Fat Lady noted how it was far too late for a respectable young lady to roam the castle on her own.
Getting to the Astronomy Tower usually didn't take long but it always, without a fail, demanded that the person doing the sneaking possessed a certain amount of wit mixed with a sense for mischief. Avoiding the prefects was easy, in fact some of them were rather tolerant. The professors, however, were much worse. They patrolled the hallways, carefully and in a surprisingly quiet manner, especially Professor McGonagall who often times patrolled in her animagus form. Thus, sneaking through the hallways demanded a certain level of expertise, a detour on the right, taking care not to step into a trap step on the way, a few simple shortcuts and Y/N was well on her way towards the Tower.
It was a little before 1 o'clock when she had finally reached the very top of it. She checked if she was truly alone—she lost count of how many times she had walked in on couples in various stages of undress—before leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor breathing heavily, lungs heaving to get more air inside as her pulse drummed, courtesy of Mrs. Norris sneaking around the bottom of the Astronomy Tower. At least the h/c haired girl hoped it was Mrs. Norris and not Professor McGonagall, otherwise the woman would be extremely disappointed in her. Once she had finally calmed her breathing Y/N reached inside her purse, her hand nearly elbow deep in the tiny thing. The girl had a knack for extension charms. First she felt the cool metal of her tweezers, then the warmer, softer texture of the lip balm she always carried and finally a small bottle of perfume. Groaning she roamed her fingers around the inside of the purse until they grasped a pack of Players' cigarettes and, after searching a bit more, a lighter. With a sigh of relief she pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between her lips. Bringing the lighter to the tip of it she tried lighting the cigarette once, then twice, and then finally the third time before realizing that her lighter was of no use any longer which elicited a small groan from her lips.
Just her luck.
The one night in the whole week when she was able to sneak out on her own and her lighter decided that its time to become a faulty-no-use lighter had finally arrived.
Ruddy, faulty, of-absolutely-no-use-lighter.
Without a second thought she chucked it back in the purse, her temper slowly rising. If there was one thing that Y/N L/N absolutely abhorred it was using magic to light a cigarette. The mere thought made her shudder and the actual deed took away everything that was alluring about smoking in the first place.
She needed a lighter. And she was looking forward to that silly cigarette—and maybe, just maybe, one more after it—but now she couldn't have it, and she really wanted it. Not to mention how much she needed it, especially after having to listen about a certain sixth year Hufflepuff and his gorgeous blue eyes which, Y/N thought, weren't that gorgeous at all.
Leaning her head against the cool wall she almost missed the silent footsteps coming nearer. Suddenly alert, she stood up, shoving the Players' back inside the small purse and holding the wand tightly in her right hand as she moved backwards to hide from the entrance to the tower. The footsteps grew louder, she could feel her heart beat increasing as her palms began sweating, the vice like grip she had on her wand getting even tighter. Whoever it was that was climbing towards the Tower should have been very near. The h/c haired girl flinched when the familiar click sounded and the door opened, her eyes glued to the darkness behind them. For a few moments she stared at the emptiness there and then the door closed. The fear she had been feeling only seconds ago was replaced by utter terror as she could still hear the silent shuffling of somebody's feet in the tower. Her eyes moved frantically around as she pressed her back to the wall, her wand holding hand going slightly numb. After rapidly analysing the situation she was in, Y/N decided against calling out for the person (or whatever it was) to show themselves (oritself) realizing that her voice would most likely crack. It seemed like eons had passed since she had been sitting on the very floor of the Astronomy Tower ready to smoke a cigarette and walk back to her dormitory. Silently, Y/N L/N regretted ever deciding to leave the Gryffindor Tower at all. Despite being a talented witch and a Gryffindor at that—and Gryffindors were brave, she was supposed to be brave!—Y/N was, after all, just a sixteen year old girl who found herself trapped with an invisible entity at one o'clock in the morning at the top of the Astronomy Tower.
Suddenly she could hear herself taking quick, short breaths as everything else fell silent. Then the footsteps sounded again, this time loud and clear and, Y/N realized in complete mortifying horror, approaching her much too quickly for her own liking. Forgetting about the curfew and not being caught, she was ready to scream for help when a hand appeared and clamped over her mouth. She raised her eyebrows, eyes widening in shock, staring at the floating hand keeping her from screaming. The following second the hand was joined by the rest of the body, quite conveniently attached to the hand attached to her face. In front of Y/N L/N stood James Potter, his hand still pressed against her lips and a small grin on his face. Her stomach dropped, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.
Of all the people...
"Hullo, L/N, fancy seeing you here," he whispered, a smirk on his lips. "Are you okay? You won't scream?"
With her eyes still narrowed she took in his face, a few inches too close to hers, and promptly rolled her eyes.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand?" James played dumb. "Does rolling your eyes mean 'yes, James, I'll scream' or 'no, James, I won't'... or does it mean something completely else screaming related? So, let me repeat: you won't scream, right?"
This time around Y/N nodded vigorously, James' hand moving along before he removed it, giving her a chance to speak, "What are you doing here?!"
"No need to be hostile. I'm here for a smoke," he shrugged nonchalantly and reached in his pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
Y/N nodded curtly, ready to open her mouth and let out a stream of witty remarks and a few classy insults when James' sentence registered in her brain. He was here for a smoke. A smoke! There he was, standing right in front of her, Y/N – currently known as the owner of a faulty-of-no-use lighter, and he was ready to embark on some smoking. She bit her lower lip hard contemplating for a few moments before grinning sheepishly, "You don't happen to have a lighter on you, Potter?"
"A lighter?"
She rolled her eyes, "Yes. Yes, a lighter. That funny little thing you use to light a cigarette."
"What'd you need a lighter for, L/N? Setting the Tower on fire?" James chuckled, "I reckon it might ruin your chances of becoming a prefect."
"I was not going to set fire to—what do you even care if I become a prefect or not?" She challenged walking away from him towards the middle of the room.
James grinned at her and leaned against the wall, "I don't care, I really don't. But," he paused, placing a cigarette between his lips and, reaching his hand to retrieve a lighter from his pocket, simultaneously causing Y/N to roll her eyes yet again, and lighting the thin white stick, "what I am curious about is... what are you—of all the people I thought I might encounter—doing here? Of all the places you could be, L/N." Smirking at her he continued, "And you actually should be in your bed. I don't suppose you're meeting someone?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
Instead of responding she rolled her eyes at him before reaching in her purse and pulling out the half full pack of Players', taking a cig and holding her hand out expectantly, She nodded her head in the direction of the lighter. The dark haired boy seemed baffled at first but his face quickly formed into a mask of mischief as he approached her and, instead of handing her his lighter, lit the cigarette for her.
They accidentally met up again on a Sunday, two weeks after. It was James who needed a lighter then.
—-
It was an ordinary Sunday. One perfectly ordinary Sunday, month of May, 1977. Except, it wasn't ordinary at all and it wasn't a good day either. If one asked James Potter, or pehaps any other Gryffindor, it was a rotten, rotten day. That very morning the last Quidditch match had been played between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Lasting too long and exhausting both sides, until one of the Seekers managed to clutch his fingers around the elusive Golden Snitch. The Gryffindor team had been in the lead from the very beginning of the match, but by the end of the game they had been 140 points ahead of Ravenclaw. Even so, it had appeared that there had been no doubt in anybody's mind that the victory belonged to Gryffindor; some Ravenclaws even feeling defeated enough to leave the stands before the match had actually ended. However, in a curious turn of events the new Ravenclaw seeker—Ernest Johnson—brought his team victory by out flying the Gryffindor seeker and catching the golden snitch.
The Bloody-Rotten-Sodding-Horrid-No-Good-Very-Sad-Excuse-Of-A-Snitch, as Sirius Black dubbed it afterwards. Thus Ravenclaw won the Quidditch Cup and, on top of that, had gained a great advantage in House championship which would likely gain them the House Cup as well.
It had been a horrible day and James Potter wanted to be someplace quiet and deserted, away from everyone. He had to get away from the commotion. Perhaps he would have invited Sirius to come join him, because Remus was still away 'visiting his mother' (or was he supposed to be visiting his mother the next month and he merely had a flu now?) and Peter was trying to chat up a few fifth years. James' luck though had seemed to taken a turn for worse because Sirius had already disappeared and James didn't think his best mate wanted to be found yet. That's how James found himself sneaking up the stairs to his dormitory and hiding underneath the Invisibility Cloak. Sneaking out of the Common Room was children's play, and the walk towards the Astronomy Tower seemed short.
Perhaps he had a certain spring in his step, aided by the fact that he hadn't had a smoke in a while, and his unrelenting desire to get away from people. The Map that he had stowed away in the back pocket of his pants, told him there were people occupying the Tower. The knowledge made him feel better, he would have to scare them off before he could have the Tower to himself.
James always found that scaring away snogging couples amused him to no end. Besides once those were gone, he would have the Tower to himself and his very own horrible Sunday. On the particular evening, when James reached the tower in a record time, he encountered a pair of third year Gyrffindors at the base of it. Scaring them off was simple, a murmured "boo" in the girl's right ear sent her screaming and demanding they, meaning her and her confused boyfriend, leave the staircase immediately. The pair of Seventh year Slytherins at the very top proved to be trickier. They had been going at it pretty intensely before James started whistling around the Tower. The lanky Slytherin boy yelled a few times for James to "show his face" in a rather shaky voice, but the latter only chuckled before continuing with his agenda until the two had picked up their belongings and left in a haste. Once the tower was empty he took off the Cloak and locked the door chuckling to himself. It was somewhat humorous just how much ruining other people's fun lifted James Potter's spirits, his only regret being that there were no Ravenclaws to scare. Or perhaps throw off the top of the tower.
Maybe he'd just give them a light shove as they stood on the edge. Fly them towards the ground. Shove them off a cliff—tower—whatever.
Taking a few steps he walked out onto the small balcony overlooking the lake. The stone floor was warm enough to sit on and he took out the Map, placing it beside him. Lighting his cigarette, he observed the small dot with the scribbling Remus Lupin as it stood still in the Hospital Wing. He must have been sleeping. The dot that had Peter Pettigrew scribbled next to it was apparently getting cosy with one Dolores Smith in the farthest of the secluded corners of Gryffindor Common Room. James' eyes unconsciously roamed the entire map in search of Sirius' dot. After he was unable to spot him, even when he double checked all of the broom cupboards, he chuckled to himself. The two options stood before him: a) Sirius had gone off to Hogsmeade to chat up Rosmerta, or b) he had taken some bird to the Come and Go Room. With either of the two options equally likely, James knew he wouldn't be seeing his friend for a while. Reluctantly he stopped searching for Sirius, making peace with the fact that he would be spending the evening alone. It was at that very moment that his eyes landed on another dot, a particularly fast moving, extremely intriguing dot. The dot adjoined to Y/N L/N was travelling away from the Gryffindor Tower at a rather brisk pace. His stomach twisted lightly. In a good way, the way your stomach twists when, despite it being an awful Sunday, you suddenly feel happier than before. The way his stomach would twist every time he saw her and knew that they had a shared secret – the Astronomy Tower. A smile playing on his lips, he followed her dot as it moved, realizing she was headed his way. Eyes glued to the Map, he wasted half of his cigarette, only tearing his gaze away when the Y/N L/N dot had finally reached the locked door at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Grabbing the map, a cigarette between his lips, he got up and walked to the door unlocking them for her and meeting the back of her head.
"Oi, L/N," he whispered and she turned to face him. His breath caught on the way out, somewhere between his lungs and his parted lips because the girl looked stunning, the dim moonlight lightly dancing upon her face, a few free strands of pretty h/c hair that broke loose as she turned around, framing her delicate features. "Don't leave so soon."
A scowl formed on her face as she pushed past him, knocking out the breath he had been holding. "Not you again."
"Fancy meeting you here, as well. And what on Earth do you mean, L/N? Again? It's been a while, you know. A month if I recall correctly. Such a shame, as well. I've missed you."
"I swear, Potter... just," she groaned, trying hard not to snap at him for she was not in the mood to be teased or to tease back, "I need a few minutes on my own, please."
"I'll keep quiet."
They sat on that small balcony. True to his word James kept quiet for as long as he could, which was approximately ten minutes. Even that was impressive for a sixteen year old boy. At first he started glancing towards her every few seconds, which Y/N noticed. Then he started sighing, most likely out of boredom, and after the sighs kicked in James started impatiently tapping his foot. All of that had done nothing to calm the h/c haired girl down. In fact there had been a few good hexes floating through her thoughts that she had been ready to use when she remembered the reason behind her late night venture to the Astronomy Tower.
Cigarettes.
Hastily she started pulling out the contents of her purse until the small pile on the floor was joined by a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a smile gracing Y/N's lips. She was well aware of his burning gaze taking in each of her movements, but chose to ignore it simply lighting the cigarette between her lips. They didn't speak much more, but she did share her Butterbeer with him.
It was a strange thing they had, the Astronomy Tower and cigarettes, but what neither of the two was remotely ready to admit was that they liked it. In a strange sort of way, of course.
——
Summer had been very kind to Y/N L/N.
That was the first thing Sirius told his friends upon spotting the h/c haired girl at the Platform 9 ¾ . James's neck craned and his eyes shifted quickly until they found the h/c locks (Had she curled her hair?) framing an all too familiar face, splayed with tan, soft skin. She was laughing at something Dorcas Meadowes had said and James couldn't keep himself from staring for a second, or two. His eyes roamed her whole form, she had grown a bit. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and her shirt did fit rather snugly, particularly around the chest area. And there was that small purse hanging innocently off her shoulder. The small purse that was much bigger on the inside, and most likely contained at least a dozen of packs of cigarettes at the very moment. With a soft smile playing on his lips James looked away and followed his friends, the three of them already moving towards the train.
They had been two weeks into their 6th year when James, Sirius, Remus and Peter decided to camp out in the courtyard during lunch time. Majority of the Hogwarts students made the same decision, among them Y/N L/N, her magical purse and her friends. It was Peter who first noticed them when the three girls passed them and headed towards a tree not too far from theirs.
All four of them observed the girls silently as Y/N spread out the small blanket. Sirius whistled lightly chuckling to himself before adding, once again, that summer had treated her nicely indeed and how she had grown to be one of the fittest girls around. James agreed, not too enthusiastically though. The time for oblivious pining after L/N had passed more than a year ago.
There was something else there instead of it now, though he wasn't sure what exactly. Their shared moments somehow remained a secret, together with the fact that he liked her more than he dared let on. For all he was concerned he would never admit that he thought she was brilliant. There was nothing wrong with being brilliant, and he couldn't hold that against the poor girl. Especially not when she looked so gorgeous in the dim moonlight on a Sunday evening with smoke leaving her lips quite enticingly.
Her lips were a completely different story. He had never noticed it but they were the perfect size and the perfect shape, if such thing existed, and they fit her face just as perfectly. Some girls had full lips and, while Y/N's were not as full as Mary MacDonald's, they were as pretty, if not prettier. Perhaps even the prettiest lips in the school, James thought, even though he would never call himself an expert on the fullness nor prettiness of girls' lips. There was just something about their shape and shade, which coincidentally complimented Y/N's hair perfectly. Of course, James could stare at her long legs and the curve of her hips, and the way she was tying her hair up in a ponytail. He could watch her laugh, and admire her whole being with a slight tug around the general area of his chest, but James would never voice these thoughts because he was far too proud, and rejection and ego did not mix well.
He would simply continue sitting under the tree, a hand in his pocket holding the unopened pack of cigarettes. He would continue pretending to listen to what Peter was talking about, even though he wasn't paying attention at all. He hadn't been paying attention ever since Peter had pointed out the three girls. After that James was much too occupied by other things, things infinitely more interesting than anything his friends might have been saying. To an extent James understood that it was wrong to think that way, but he wasn't sure that anything could possibly be better than Y/N L/N' long legs under the warm September sun, completely outstretched and crossed at the ankles as she lay on her stomach, laughing along with her best friends.
Perhaps the story Peter was telling had truly been more interesting. James Potter would never know, though. The story was retold that very evening, but he was once again not around to hear it, this time physically. He had spontaneously decided to go for a walk outside of the castle. Not exactly sure what had made him do it in the first place, he strode across the school grounds towards the lake listening to the hushed sound of his own footsteps and toying with the lighter in his pocket. The Cloak of Invisiblity had been left behind in his dormitory, stashed away in the spare pillow case and locked in the hidden compartment of his trunk, but he had taken the Map with him just to be safe. The lake was eerily still that evening and the air was humid but calm. It was another indicator that the school year had only just begun, no one was worrying about exams or homework and the unusual serenity was still thick in the air around the grounds. James loved those first few weeks of school, the slow beginning and retelling of summer adventures.
Sighing he lit a cigarette and lowered himself against the trunk of the huge willow observing its branches as they dipped into the calm surface of the lake ever so softly. He held the first drag in longer than necessary, then let it out slowly, watching it dissolve in the humid air around him.
Despite it being the middle of September the weather was inexplicably summer-like and James wasn't yet sure if he liked it or not. He would have pondered about it for a while longer had the sound of rocks being thrown into the still lake interrupted the calm silence in the air, as well as his train of thought.
A beat. A tug. A smile forming on his lips and his breath getting caught. Because there she was, he could easily spot her from the shadow of the willow. A h/c haired girl in the dim moonlight disrupting the surface of the lake. Taking the cigarette from his lips he stood up and walked towards her, a grin on his face.
"Evening, L/N," she looked at him, lowering her arm and dropping the rock she was holding to the ground.
"Potter." Y/N's face gave off her surprise, though her voice stayed indifferent.
"Are you throwing rocks?" He questioned stupidly, taking a drag from his cigarette and gazing at the disrupted surface of the lake.
The girl rolled her eyes at him, a gesture she seemed to do often. With a shrug, she replied, "Maybe."
"It seemed like you were."
"What does it matter if I was?" She turned to face him completely and noticed he was staring at the sky.
Blowing out the smoke into the air above them he lowered his head, "I s'ppose it doesn't. I reckoned you'd care for a smoke," he grinned, offering her his virtually empty pack of cigarettes.
"I'm not going to take your last cig, Potter" she shook her head, the h/c tresses moving with such an ease that James had to admire it for a split second, "I don't do that."
His laughter rang through the silent air, "You don't do that? Do what? Accept generous offers? Smoke? ... Because I know you smoke."
"I won't take your last cig, it's... I just don't do it. I don't take other people's last cigs, that's it."
He frowned, "But I'm offering."
"Doesn't matter," Y/N replied turning away from him after catching herself staring at his lips as they parted to let the smoke out. Reprimanding herself mentally, she noted there were much better things to stare at, the lake for instance, or the moon. Eventually she decided on the lake, and summoned her own Players' from the tiny purse. Turning to face him, but fully intent on not staring, she smirked. "Do you reckon the Giant Squid is dead?"
"Excuse me?" James sputtered out just as he threw the cigarette bud to the ground.
"Is it dead?" Y/N repeated, while pulling out a lighter from her purse. "Or is it asleep?"
The boy standing next to her chuckled, "Is that what you were doing? Waking the Squid? Bloody hell, L/N. Has anyone ever told you you're a bit mental?" She scoffed. "Why would anyone want to wake up the Giant Squid?"
She didn't respond right away, instead taking a long drag from her cigarette and blowing a few smoke rings, "I was bored." James nodded reaching for that last cigarette of his. As he held it between his lips he could hear her chuckle, "Aren't you glad I didn't take your last cigarette?"
-
It was funny how they kept running into each other in the strangest of moments.
She's standing in the middle of her dormitory, the small purse in her hands, surrounded by the mess she had made minutes ago. Her hair is slightly dishevelled and she's breathing raggedly.
Y/N could have sworn that she had one more pack left, that there was no need to make a discreet detour to buy another carton of cigarettes. She had it all planned out and was certain that the carton she had bought before arriving to Hogwarts that year would last her at least until Easter, if not the whole year. Yet, she had found herself cigarette-less in the middle of March with no opportune moment to apparate secretly, replenish her stash, and come back without being caught. Y/N L/N wasn't even addicted to cigarettes, she just enjoyed having a smoke here and there, and there was nothing wrong with liking cigarettes—it did not mean she was addicted.
Besides, it was a completely private thing, not even her best friends knew, if they did they still pretended they didn't, for her own sake. Sure, Y/N noticed how they would get suspicious every now and again, but she was firmly convinced that she had managed to keep it a secret.
A secret she loved, even though she had to share it with an unlikely cigarette mate of hers. A faint smile formed on her lips at the thought, and then it dawned on her. It was as simple as that, James Potter was her unlikely cigarette mate with a lighter. He was her cigarette mate, Y/N grinned, with a lighter and cigarettes. The cigarette mate code, which she may or may not have made up right then and there, stated that when one's cigarette mate is in trouble—such as having run out of their precious Players' unexpectedly—then one should feel obligated to help out their cigarette mate in any way possible. The only way to help out a cigarette mate who would find themselves in such a pickle as Y/N did was to provide them with a box of cigarettes. It was the only noble and honourable thing to do, she concluded suddenly relieved. All she had to do now was find her wonderful, charming, brilliant cigarette mate.
Giving the dormitory a once over and realizing that if she were to leave it in its current state it would undoubtedly raise questions, she decided it had to be put back in place. Suspicious, questioning dorm mates were not something Y/N wanted to deal with, especially since she had other matters to tend to, matters such as the disturbing lack of cigarettes.
With a flick of her wand she folded all of her shirts, stacking them one on top of the other on her bed. Then she levitated the books to her trunk and closed it. Glancing around the room she nodded satisfied at the way it looked, then rushed down the staircase.
Upon bursting through the door and stumbling into the 6th year boys' dormitory she realized, only a little too late, that James would most definitely not be alone when she came to him for help. In fact it was more than likely that he would be with his friends. Which he was, Y/N realized standing mortified in the doorway. The four boys who were playing Exploding Snap prior to her grand entrance stared at her bewildered, and she flushed glancing quickly at her secret, she reprimanded herself quietly when she remembered, cigarette mate before averting her gaze to Remus.
"Uh, hullo," she cleared her throat, "I just wanted to—it's silly really, you see—Remus, I can't seem to remember if we have the—uh—that prefect thing—uhm—"
James cut in, "Patrols?"
"Yes," she accepted his help, "... that. Do we have patrols tonight?"
Remus stared at her confused before replying, "Y/N, we had them three days ago. Are you alright? Maybe you should go see Madame Pomfrey and have her check if everything is fine with you—did you hit your head?"
"I'm fine, Remus, I promise." She assured her fellow prefect who suddenly seemed extremely concerned about her health. "I'll leave you to it, then." Y/N mumbled out before awkwardly leaving the dormitory, but not before she was able to steal a glance towards her cigarette mate.
Then she all but stumbled down the stairs, headed back to her dormitory to grab a few books, and descended to the Common Room. She had reached the armchair in front of the fireplace quicker than ever before and took up doing her homework rather enthusiastically, all the while chewing on her lip impatiently and hoping to catch James Potter alone, preferably far away from his friends.
As she found out later in the evening she needn't have worried at all. A small piece of crumpled parchment hit her just above her right eyebrow before falling onto the Charms textbook she had been reading seconds ago. It continued to gracefully roll towards her lap, where it ended its journey. She picked it up, unsure of what it was, and was met with a messy handwriting.
Broom cupboard down the corridor. 15 minutes. James
At first her brain screamed a loud 'no' protesting against any inclination she might have had to meet James, especially not in a broom cupboard. Everybody knew broom cupboards were full of spiders and snog germs. Besides she had no intention of snogging James, and frankly she was not quite sure where he got the preposterous idea. There was a stronger part of her brain, though, the one that was shouting out an extremely loud 'yes', for more than one reason.
It was the part that kept her awake sometimes with unwanted, sentimental, very cliche thoughts about the boy in question. The part she blamed when she caught herself staring at the back of his head in Tranfiguration, and contemplating what a pretty back of a head it was. The unreasonable part of her brain that sometime, along the way decided that James messing up his hair wasn't irritating, but rather attractive.
That part made her do inexplicable things and oftentimes sent the strangest impulses through her body. Her pulse would quicken, her cheeks were flush, her muscles would tingle.
It was clearly the annoying part of her brain, Y/N decided. But, most importantly it was the part that thought James Potter was aware of their cigarette mates bond, their cigarette camaraderie, and the obligations such camaraderie brought. She was partially certain that he had understood her plea for help, or perhaps it was more of a desperate cry rather than a mere plea, and the logical part of her brain agreed.
Rationalizing the situation Y/N scribbled down a neat yes before charming the crumpled ball of parchment to hit James in his left ear. She watched him as he flinched, then searched for the parchment unsuccessfully before summoning it.
Observing him as he read her note, she couldn't help but feel only slightly giddy at the thought of meeting up with him in a broom cupboard. Once he smirked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket for a split second, Y/N let out a breath of relief (or was it disappointment?) and turned back to her Charms homework. He left the common room only a few minutes later and she wondered if she was truly supposed to wait another ten minutes to join him.
Completely annoyed, she found that there was no way she was going to be able to finish her essay now because: a) It was ten o'clock and she was tired, b) there was a cigarette with her name on it in the broom cupboard a few feet away from the portrait of the Fat Lady, and to top it off c) the assignment wasn't due until next week, anyway.
Hastily she collected her books, corked her ink bottle and rushed to her dormitory to put them away. After a minute she was out of the Gryffindor Tower and heading towards the meeting place in a hurry when someone—and she was quite positive that she knew who it was—grabbed her by her waist, clamped a hand over her mouth and then threw something over her head.
"Invisibility cloak," he whispered in her ear and she almost shivered, almost. "Let's go outside, the Astronomy Tower is apparently extremely busy tonight." Again, she nodded, blindly following his suggestions.
They moved through the castle with ease, making sure they didn't make too much noise. Once they reached the oak door they had to wait for Filch to leave the Entrance Hall, which didn't take long in James' opinion, but Y/N had been unyieldingly impatient.
Despite James' reassurances that no one would see them in the dark even if they did remove it, Y/N insisted they kept the Cloak on until they were only steps away from the willow rooted near the shore of the lake. There James finally pulled the Cloak off and tucked it away. He then proceeded to take hold of her wrist, pulling her into the shadows of the tree, where he all but sat her down on one of the protruding roots before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Standing before her, he opened the pack and offered her a cigarette before taking one himself.
"What's the story, N/N?"
"Huh?" She glanced at him, extending her arm to grab hold of the lighter he had just used. His hand retracted, putting the lighter out of her reach and he grinned.
"I asked you what's the story. I thought you always had your cigs. I thought it was wrong to take another person's cigs." James chuckled before leaning closer and lighting her cigarette with a smirk.
"An unexpected turn of events," Y/N replied, observing the way that the tip of her cigarette lit up as she inhaled the smoke. "And it's only wrong to take someone else's cig if it's the last one."
"Hmm," James mused. "I can accept that. What turn of events?"
"Miscalculation," she grinned at his frowning face. "I thought I had enough to cover the whole year, but I was wrong. Ended up smoking right through my secret stash," Y/N elaborated with a small smile.
"Ah, and so you came to me."
"More or less." She confirmed bringing the cigarette back to her lips, eyes roaming his form as he leaned against the trunk of the willow. "I figured that cigarette mates should help their cigarette mates, even if they are merely secret cigarette mates."
He stared at her with a confused look on his face before mumbling out, "We're mates?"
"Cigarette mates," corrected Y/N, "but I'm not that opposed to the prospect of mates concept either."
James held back a huge grin threatening to break out and instead winked at the h/c haired girl and offered her a very James Potter-like smirk. "Mates then, L/N. Proper ones, too."
Y/N nodded, "I suppose I could do worse than being mates with you, Potter. You are useful," she lifted her cigarette pointedly. "And you're not as dim-witted as I thought you were. After all, you did manage to decipher my mad prefect patrol inquiries."
"I'm brilliant, I know."
With her mouth half way open to respond with a witty retort, Y/N realized that he actually had all the rights to claim his brilliance. She had been denying this for too long but James Potter truly was brilliant. In a very different, somewhat annoying, and a very James Potter way.
They spent two hours sitting in the shadow of the willow tree, talking just about anything, until the air had gone too cold. She was leaning against the trunk of the willow, smoking her fourth cigarette, when the realization came that James was standing unnervingly close to her. Close enough so that she could spot the three tiny freckles forming a perfect triangle on his right cheek. Close enough for her to notice the scar on the left side of his jaw, a reminder of the time he got hit in the face with a Bludger. They stood close enough for their breaths to mix, and for him to lightly close the gap leaning his forehead against hers. Her lungs were on fire, not because of the smoke trapped inside them. When he lifted his hand to cup her face it was cold against her jaw, and shivers ran down her spine, all the way from the spot where the cold fingertips touched the back of her neck to the tips of her toes. But his breath, his lips were warm against hers and she dropped the half smoked cigarette on the cold ground, her shaking hands tugging at his waist and pulling his body crashing towards hers.
The kiss lasted exactly twenty-two seconds, not that either of them was counting, and they never spoke of it because mates don't kiss.
It had been happening too often lately. Too often for her own liking and she was going to put an end to it. Even her friends were getting suspicious. And Y/N thought she was losing her mind, she really did. It felt almost unnatural the way she blindly looked in his direction whenever she entered the Great Hall. It was annoying how she had to search every room to see if he was there, and that slight twinge of disappointment if he wasn't around wasn't any less irritating. Perhaps what bothered her most was the unnerving way that he seemed to be looking at her every single time she looked at him. Their eyes would meet and he'd smile, and she would smile in return. Everyone around them used to be rendered speechless by the exchanges between them, but their friends had gotten used to it by now. Or they simply learned to ignore it.
The worst part was the nagging voice telling her that she liked all of that. She liked looking at him and she liked when he would meet her eye because he must have been looking at her as well.
That she maybe, hypothetically, perhaps, not surely liked him.
She liked their late night meetings, which were now sometimes spent without smoking cigarettes. The ones where he admitted to her that he was fascinated with The Beatles and that Sirius thought he was being stupid, or the one where she ended up with her legs in his lap as he tried to reach for the Butterbeer bottle she had hidden behind her back, and the time he brought a radio up to the Tower and they tried to tune into a muggle station, failing at it ever since because the magic surrounding the castle was too disruptive for radio waves to be able to reach them.
It was because she liked all of it that she put an end to their late night rendezvous. At least she had attempted to. She had successfully made a fool of herself and simply told him they shouldn't meet every second evening, but rather tone it down to once a week because their friends were growing suspicious.
When he asked why they couldn't just tell them they were smoking in the Tower, she came up with the most idiotic lie: how she liked having their time a secret, and that it made it more fun. Had she not mentioned how much she enjoyed those evenings James would have protested, but upon hearing her words he agreed without a second thought. Neither of the two were aware of it at the moment, but there wasn't much that they wouldn't agree to do for each other.
They had kept up the once a week deal for a month, which meant they had met only four times and four times wasn't enough for James.
-
He realized on a Thursday morning during an exceptionally boring Potions class. It took him till the end of that same class to come up with a genius plan and an outstanding way to present his plan to Y/N, who agreed to it although pretended to be reluctant about it. In the end she decided she wanted to see him more than just four times a month, but decided that was just slightly too personal to admit.
"Oi, L/N," James yelled across the hallway and her head turned swiftly in his direction. "McGonagall needs us. Now." It was an exquisite, flawless plan built solely on the fact that McGonagall was in fact their Head of House, and therefore they had to occasionally meet with her. Which they happened to be having now because they wanted to do their academics properly, if doing one's studies meant smoking cigarettes in the prefect's lavatory.
With a fake scowl and a quick apology to her best friends Y/N spun on her heel and walked towards him, making sure not to look too eager to join him in the meeting. They acted casual until rounding the corner after which they both shared a quick glance, grins spread on their faces as their pace quickened. Climbing up the two flights of stairs they reached the fourth floor, all but rushing towards the Prefect's bathroom. James was quicker to mumble out the password and they both stumbled inside, Y/N locking the door behind them as James laughed.
"We're most likely the most industrious students this school has ever seen. Or at least we think we are," His laughter echoed against the marble in the bathroom. Y/N joined in with her own laughter, reaching for the small purse while throwing herself on the sofa in the corner, "I don't know why we hadn't come up with this sooner, this is brilliant, James."
"Well," he landed next to her, smirking, "I am brilliant."
"Sod off," Y/N chuckled lighting her cigarette and tossing the lighter at him.
"Watch the face, Y/N." He warned while conjuring up an ashtray and charming it to levitate near them.
She stared at him for a few seconds, reminding herself not to be too obvious (albeit failing at it), before leaning her head against his shoulder and reaching for her small purse, "I have a little something for us."
Putting an arm around her and pulling her closer to him, he smirked. "What's it?"
"Wait and see," the H/C haired girl replied leaving the lit cigarette in the ashtray and digging through her purse, "ah, there it is." And then she pulled out a bottle of what seemed to be Ogden's Firewhiskey. Not only was it Ogden's Firewhiskey, it was one of the older, more exquisite brands of Ogden's.
"No," he breathed a few inches away from her ear and almost missed the way she shivered because he was too immersed in observing the bottle. "How?"
"Let's just say Rosmerta owed me a favour and I thought that we deserved a bit of an encouragement at the end of our academic careers."
"Encouragement?" He was stunned. "This is not encouragement, this is a—a blackmail. I will feel morally obligated to be the greatest student this school has ever seen if I even taste this! Not even my parents have this at home on a regular basis." He could feel Y/N shake with silent chuckles as she reached for the bottle in his right hand.
"Would you relax, James?" She touched the tip of the bottle with her wand, easily uncorking it.
"I'm relaxed."
"You're tense."
"Am not," he defended, then sucked in a breath when her hand landed on the front of his shirt, blatantly feeling his tense abs.
"I'm sure you are."
"Sod off," he groaned but her hand remained in its new place. "You don't even know how much that costs."
Y/N stared at the liquid in the bottle, holding it close to her face before smelling it, then she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped it. Her face contorted when she swallowed the Firewhiskey and felt the burn, her whole body shuddering at the taste. "I really don't care about the price," she beamed at him, wondering when exactly had it become completely usual for their faces to be mere inches away, "I got it for free." She tipped the bottle once again, shutting her eyes tightly as she gulped down more than she had a moment ago. "It's horrible."
James groaned at her lack of appreciation for the finer things in life. "Give me that," he grabbed the bottle from her hand and took a generous swig of the drink. "This is amazing." Y/N rolled her eyes at his thrilled face. She reclaimed the bottle after she had finished her cigarette and willed herself to drink as much as she could at once, which wasn't much at all, still shuddering at the taste while James observed, chuckling next to her.
She placed the bottle on the floor before snuggling closer to him and carelessly playing with the fingers of his left hand. "Your hands are so big," she muttered flattening her palm against his in comparison, "look at this. My fingers barely reach to the third knuckle of your fingers."
"Mhm," he sighed, moving his fingers until they were positioned in the spaces between her fingers, "you have tiny hands, mine are normal sized." She opened her mouth to protest but found that the response had died on its way when he pushed his fingers completely in between hers, intertwining their hands. "You know, I have no idea what you did for Rosie—I mean, Rosmerta—but it must have been something absolutely genius for her to pay you with Ogden's finest. You're brilliant, you know that?" His eyes met hers, both of them sporting equally dopey grins.
She nodded, marvelling at the unfamiliar feeling of his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. "I am amazing, I know. You adore me." A confident smile graced her lips as she looked up at him, noticing the strange look he was giving her. "What's wrong?"
"Thinking." He breathed as she shifted next to him.
"About?"
"Cigarettes?" He offered, quite positive that she wouldn't believe him. But even if she had failed in believing his latest statement it reminded her of the lovely white sticks she enjoyed mixing with alcohol and Y/N started leaning over him to reach for her box of Players' which she had placed on the wide armrest.
"What are you doing?" His hands landed on her hips, stopping her midway.
"Trying to reach my Players'?"
James laughed lightly, feeling her hair brush against his face. "Don't smoke, Y/N. It's a nasty habit."
"I'm sure it is," she patted his chest, resting her hand there, "but I greatly enjoy mixing good Firewhiskey with cigarettes."
Y/N watched as the dark haired boy nodded, biting his lip as if deeply in thought. When he finally spoke up there was a certain glint in his eye, "I see where you're coming from, but," he paused removing his hand from her hip and reaching to tuck away a few h/c strands behind her ear, "I've been thinking of some other things that go perfectly well with quality Firewhiskey. And I have a few suggestions." Each word carefully chosen, James let his hand fall back to her hip as his eyes bore into hers waiting for her reaction.
"Oh," her eyes widened.
"Yes." He smirked softly, though still unsure of what to expect.
"Well," the hand resting on his chest inched higher, "I suppose it would be... healthier?"
"Mhm." Her hand had just traveled past his collar bone, and his own hands moved lightly against her sides. He stopped at her waist leaning closer to her, but it was Y/N who closed the final distance between them, having the upper hand of being virtually on top of him. Pulling his face gently upwards, closer to hers, she brought their lips together. Burying her right hand in his hair she trailed the other one down his chest to hold onto his waist, drawing him closer to her, their bodies flush against each other. Unsure of how long they had been kissing, but confident that it wasn't nearly long enough, Y/N abruptly pulled away from James, their lips parting with a sound.
"What?" He protested.
"I'm going to quit smoking."
"What?!"
"I'm quitting smoking," the grin on her face was radiant.
James, whose hands were resting on her hips once again, frowned. "Why?"
"Because," she said, her voice contemplative, "I think I may have found a better way to spend time during these long meetings with McGonagall." A smirk formed on her face as she stared at him, unconsciously biting her lower lip. The smirk on James' face spread into a smile and then formed into a completely devilish grin as he leaned forward capturing her lips again.
She could finally quit her rather bad habit.
#james potter x reader#the marauders#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the gryffindor tower#harry potter x reader#anmarauder writings#player's cigarette mate
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50 Questions You Have Never Been Asked
I got tagged by @elgar-somniari Thanks for the opportunity to share!
1. What is the color of your hairbrush?
Greenish Blue
2. A food you never eat?
Shellfish - I’m allergic
3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?
My bff from college calls me “Lizard Person” because the only way I can be warm is laying in direct sunlight like a reptile
4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?
Checking in on my animal crossing island
5. What is your favorite candy bar?
I love Kit Kats with my whole being
6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?
I’m not super into sports, but I go to the ballet a few times per year which is as close as I get
7. What was the last thing you said out loud?
"We should change that” (Just realized we have two of the same picture hanging on the same wall in my apartment, should probably replace one)
8. What is your favorite ice cream?
Mint Cookie Crumble
9. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Water. I live on water and G2
10. Do you like your wallet?
People make fun of me for it because it looks “manly” but I know that wallets don’t have genders and also it has three ID slots so I can keep two forms of ID and a picture visible at all times which is why I liked it in the first place
11. What was the last thing you ate?
Pizza
12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?
I ordered a pair of brown lace up boots specifically because they look like RPG heroine boots and I can’t wait until they get here
13. The last sporting event you watched?
Do the Orzammar Provings count?
14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?
There’s a store in my town that only sells fancy olive oil so I like to make plain popcorn but then salt it and pour the butter infused olive oil on it
15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to?
The SO
16. Ever go camping?
I have! It’s not my favorite but I’ll go once in a while
17. Do you take vitamins?
I’m a teacher so I take air shield when school is in session
18. Do you go to church every Sunday?
I am not religious
19. Do you have a tan?
I just burn so I coat myself in obscene amounts of sunscreen and then maybe I’ll somehow end up tan
20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?
Right now I’m gonna say Chinese because I have eaten a lot of pizza lately and I miss Chinese
21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?
I only drink soda once in a while at a restaurant and even then I usually order iced tea. But, when I get soda at a restaurant, they usually give me a straw, so yes
22. What color socks do you usually wear?
Mickey Mouse, bright colors, usually don’t match
23. Ever drive above the speed limit?
Maybe 3 MPH above maximum on a highway and everyone still flies past me
24. What terrifies you?
Straight drops. I like rollercoasters, but anything with a 90 degree drop is a no go from me
25. Look to your left what do you see?
A poster from a musical I was in
26. What core do you hate?
I’m assuming this was supposed to say “chore”, so dishes. On the off-chance it was core as in subject matter, math
27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?
I don’t hear them often, but I just think of Australia and things I associate with it. Like kangaroos and sunshine
28. What is your favorite soda?
Diet Coke (no, I don’t think it’s healthy, regular coke is just too sweet for my taste)
29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through?
Drive though usually
30. Who was the last person you talked to?
My mom
31. Favorite cut of beef?
Whatever cut somebody else cooked because I’m terrible at it and beggars can’t be choosers
32. Last song you listened to?
I’m Still Standing - Elton John
33. Last book you read?
I’m halfway though Voyager, which is in the Outlander series
34. Favorite day of the week?
Saturday. Stereotypical, but I like sleeping in and knowing I don’t have to wake up early the next day either
35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?
Absolutely not
36. How do you like your coffee?
I’m a tea girl, which I drink as is, occasionally with a little sugar, honey, or lemon, but not always. Coffee I will only drink in frappuccino form if it tastes so much like chocolate that I can barely taste the coffee
37. Favorite pair of shoes?
Boots. I have a couple pairs that I rotate and then get sad in the summer that I can’t wear them
38. At what time do you usually go to bed?
Normally like 9:30-10:00 (I have to get up early for work) but lately it’s been more like midnight
39. At what time do you normally get up?
6:30 if I’m working, ordinarily 8:30 if I wake up on my own, lately its been 9:30-10:00 since I have no schedule
40. What do you prefer - sunrises or sunsets?
I like them both but I’m not a morning person so I rarely see a sunrise
41. How many blankets are on your bed?
Summer - Sheet only
Winter - Sheet, smaller blanket, comforter
Spring/Fall - Sheet, comforter
42. Describe your kitchen plates?
Round, purple
43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?
I don’t drink a lot but if I do it has to be fruity
44. Do you play cards?
Blackjack is about it. I’d like to learn more though! Not cards, but I just finally taught myself to play chess
45. What color is your car?
Gray
46. Can you change a tire?
No
47. What is your favorite province?
I live in the US, so I’ll go with a state - New York, where I live (not the city)
48. Favorite job you ever had?
I worked in a local small business through college that I loved, but I just got hired for my first teaching job so I’m excited to finally work in my field!
49. How did you get your biggest scar?
The scar in question is not longer there (took YEARS to fade) but I don’t have any others so when I was a kid I walked too close to my dad’s motorcycle and I didn’t know he had just gotten home and the exhaust pipe was still hot and my calf touched it and left a HUGE burn on the side of my leg. That shit HURT
50. What did you do today that made someone happy?
Talked and joked with the SO
I tag @elffyness, @lakecalenhadlookslikeabunny, @its-dragonage-trash @noire-pandora
Sorry if you were already tagged, and anyone else who wasn’t tagged but wants to, go for it!
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Tagged by @toast-gh0st , thank you for thinking of me! ☺
50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked Before
1 - What is the colour of your hairbrush?
Mostly black with a holographic handle.
2 - A food you never eat?
I don't care much for uncooked onion. And coleslaw. I'm a Taurus, so, I eat. 💁
3- Are you typically too warm or too cold?
Too HOT big time I am always hot
4-What were you doing 45 minutes ago?
Drinking wine and watching talk shows with my dog and my mom.
5-What is your favourite candy bar?
I think all American candy tastes like pure shit now, and there are reasons for that. I suppose Milka?
6-Have you ever been to a professional sports event?
I have. First one I remember, I wanted to to SPECIFICALLY to see Coolio. I also remember a baseball game one of my ex's dragged me to.
7-What is the last thing you said out loud?
"Oh shit you're right"
8-What is your favourite ice cream?
Used to be Ben and Jerry's chocolate brownie whatever, but it's definitely, like, coffee or pistachio now. Adult tastebuds are weird.
9-What was the last thing you had to drink?
Franzia Crisp White from a Walgreens big gulp type cup
10-Do you like your wallet?
Not really. It does wallet things though.
11-What was the last thing you ate?
Baked potato
12-Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?
Lol. No.
13-The Last sporting event you watched?
I watched a video of baseball players pretending to be curlers.
14-What is your favourite flavour of popcorn?
Oh, man. I LOVE overbuttered movoe theatre popcorn. I also love that Chicago type popcorn, I think. With the cheese and caramel.
15-Who was the last person you sent a text message to?
My friend Matt.
16-Ever go camping?
For sure
17-Do you take vitamins?
Supposed to.
18-Do you go to church every Sunday?
I'm spiritual in my own right. So, no. Lol.
19-Do you have a tan?
I'm mulatto
20-Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?
That's tough. I can eat pizza forever but Chinese food is the bomb. I might have to go with pizza.
21-Do you drink your soda with a straw?
Only if it comes with one
22-What color socks do you usually wear?
I dont wear socks tbh. I mean I do when I'm going out with real shoes on my feet but I hate anything on my feet. Country bumpkin.
23-Do you ever drive above the speed limit?
Literally always.
24-What terrifies you?
A lot. I have bad anxiety and panic attacks so the stupidest shit triggers me but idk what it stems from exactly. Just one big mess.
25-Look to your left, what do you see?
The bathroom window
26-What chore do you hate?
THE DISHES
27-What do you think of when you hear and Australian Accent?
Steve Irwin duh
28-What’s your favourite soda?
Mr. Pibb
29-Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru?
Drive thru
30-Favourite cut of beef?
Oh, man. That depends. My best answer is anything but ribeye.
31-Who’s the last person you talked to?
My mom
32-Last Song you listened to?
Oh Sherrie by Steve Perry
33-Last Book you read?
I started this random book I ordered online and have hated it to the point of forgetting its name. Dancing girls or something? Just not my...type.
34-Favorite Day of the week?
Friday
35-Can you say the alphabet backwards?
The last time I tried, I was doing a field sobriety test.
36-How do you like your coffee?
Strong and iced. Enough milk/cream to lighten the color and just a touch of sugar or honey. But STRONG mostly.
37-Favorite pair of shoes?
Right now its my docs
38-At what time do you normally go to bed?
Between 8-12. Depends on the meds. And my fucked up stomach.
39-At what time do you normally get up?
10 am at the very latest. I'm a morning person.
40-What do you prefer sunrise or sunsets?
Sunrise
41-How many blankets are on your bed?
One
42-Describe your kitchen plates?
Disposable lol. Helps with executive dysfunction.
43-Do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage?
I mostly drink wine now; dry, bitter white wines. But if I'm "out" or whatever, Jameson, dirty martinis, whatever beer is the cheapest.
44- Do you play cards?
I do. I fucking kill it in spades.
45- What colour is your car?
Uh like...grey/silver
46-Can you change a tire?
I can't but I intend to learn
47-What is your favourite state/providence?
Michigan. I'm a Michigan girl to the core.
48-Favourite job you’ve ever had?
Acting/performing. Its been, I think, two years since the last time I was on film. It KILLS me.
49-How did you get your biggest scar?
I had a thymectomy in 2001 and it looks like if you cut open my chest horizontally and then it scarred up along thr incision. It's hidden by my boobs though so that's cool.
50-What did you do today that made someone else happy?
Checked on my family.
Phew! Props if you read that whole thing. Thanks again to @toast-gh0st and I tag whoever wants to participate or wants to know more. Stay safe, y'all. ❤🤘
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People Call Me Trixie
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FOR ALL THE SAINTS
December 1960
Rosemary McConlough didn't give birth to her twins that Sunday, but by the time the Quality Street tin was empty, she was the proud mother of one of each. Not only that, but when Christmas morning would finally arrive, her Aunty Iris would wake up to more than a stocking at the end of her bed. Iris had been given, when it came to unexpected Christmas presents, the most precious of all.
Trixie was back at All Saints' Church. This time there wasn't a service in progress that she dreaded interrupting. All Saints' was preparing for its screen debut. Trixie would rather be in charge of the ulcer clinic, than be at Poplar parish church that afternoon. She had never been able to say no to Sister Bernadette, even in a skirt suit and heels. She also had only ever said no to Tom, on one occasion.
As the church got ready for its premier, Trixie had been put in charge of flower arranging, thanks to Constance Spry and a generous godmother. Iris Willens in her role as the church caretaker had done most of the work prior to going into labour. All Trixie needed to complete were a few titivations.
She was attending to the foliage around the church pillars, when she became aware of an all too familiar scent. All too familiar because she had purchased it from Fenwicks herself, not so long ago.
Tom had meant to be kind and was unaware of how close he had stood behind her. The sensation of his breath on her neck had unnerved her, as he tried to make awkward small talk.
Trixie found a quiet spot at the back of the church, sat behind a large square pillar. She could really do with a cigarette right now. To tell the truth, which she knew she owed it to herself to do, she could really do with a drink right now.
Against the commotion of the BBC dress rehearsal, Trixie didn't hear anyone else come in. He was sat beside her before she realized.
"Is this where the naughty children sit?"
"This pew is reserved for sinners only, Dr Turner."
"Well, this hassock looks to have my name on it,” he answered shifting the kneeling cushion out of the way.
Trixie giggled a little too loudly for someone wanting to go unnoticed and Patrick playfully shushed her.
"How is it all going?" He asked, surveying the organised chaos in front of him.
"Well, it's a good job you are here, Doctor. Cecil B De Milne is about to have a stroke, if he doesn't calm down." They both looked over to where the BBC's red faced Barrington Swann was managing to ruffle everyone else's feathers.
"Who is really in charge?" Patrick asked the question, he already knew the answer too.
Trixie raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes, and pursed her lips. Patrick knew she was too polite to say, so he answered his own question.
"Don't tell me...Field Marshall Turner, she was born for days like these."
Trixie was holding on to the pew, shaking with laughter now.
"Ably assisted by Gunner Gilbert, second in command," she just managed to spray out, before she could no longer speak for laughing.
"What of the company padre?"
"Oh, he definitely would like to go AWOL" Trixie replied, sobering up a little, her attention turning to Tom.
Tom stood exactly where she had seen him on her last visit; in the pulpit. He was helping lighting and camera setup for his shots. Ready for when he would record his very succinct and cheerful Christmas message; for the waiting British public, to ponder on Christmas Day.
He again looked alone and isolated as he had when Trixie had seen him last. His ministry wasn't sermonising and pontificating. It was helping, listening, and healing; he belonged with his congregation, not above it and it didn't matter if it was in the East End or on Tyneside. Trixie knew that now.
They had both stopped laughing, Patrick played with his hat. Trixie held her hands together in her lap, to try and quell the irritating sensation they had recently acquired to be busy. She felt for the ring on her left hand, but it was no longer there.
"Is all well with you, Trixie? I am still your GP. You would tell me if you needed... anything, a referral even...to someone...somewhere else?"
Trixie stiffened. How could he know? Did everyone know? Had Sister Julienne spoke to him about her? Or maybe to Shelagh, they were still close. Now even after everything. Had he maybe just been watching her?
"I am fine, Doctor." She paused and took a deep breath. "No, I am not fine really, but I think I may have found a way."
She took another deliberate intake of air. Only Sisters Mary Cynthia and Julienne knew of her recently arranged Tuesday night obligation.
"I have ...joined a group, made some new friends, in a similar situation...like-minded people."
"That's good, that's very good.” He looked relieved.
"I am thinking of taking up keep-fit in the new year," she smiled. "It's supposed to be very good for the body and the mind and who knows maybe even the soul. I probably won't be very good at it."
"I am sure whatever you choose to do, you will be very good at it, Trixie."
"That's not true! I am not a very good friend or even a very good person."
Patrick recoiled at this, but didn't interject.
"I let you down and Timothy and most of all Marianne,” Her early tears of laughter had turned to tears that stung.
Patrick offered her his handkerchief, she pushed it away.
"I haven't returned the last one you gave me," she sobbed.
"Marianne told me, you had thrown it away."
"No! I washed it!" She responded, wounded by this innocent accusation. "I keep it as a spare at the bottom of my midwifery bag, for my patients."
Patrick smiled, it was like her.
"It's also ideal for removing trifle from your shoe."
Patrick looked confused and raised an eyebrow. He knew the nurses had to clean a lot of things from their shoes, as did he. However, he couldn't help feeling he had missed something.
They again sat looking directly ahead, absentmindedly watching Tom's increasing discomfort. Patrick's son sat at the piano, face interchanging between boredom and amusement, in the way only a young teens can. Marianne's rather peculiar boy was turning into a rather remarkable young man.
It was Patrick who spoke first, "This is a strange place for me. It has witnessed two of the happiest days of my life and also the saddest. Timothy and Angela were also christened here. When I sit here, I feel both passion and sorrow."
Trixie nodded, she had a similar relationship with the imposing building, she suddenly remembered singing with Patrick at Alec's funeral. Jenny had started again, found a way to deal with loss and found hope and new love. Maybe it wasn't too late for Trixie, she looked over at Violet Buckle organising the layette raffle draw. Fred's wife glowed with happiness, maybe it was never too late. Iris Willans was testament to that.
Patrick suddenly continued, "It is like when I see Sister Evangelina. I remember her bringing my son into the world, but also guiding his mother out of it."
He paused, taking his time. Trixie heard his breathing pattern deepen. He then added,
"Even Shelagh, most of the time I look at her and see only love and a kind of peace, but occasionally when I hear Tim call her mum...for just a brief moment, there is only confusion and pain, just a brief moment."
Trixie heard Patrick take hold of a breath and let it escape slowly from between his lips.
"When I look at Tim, I only see Marianne. It seems more and more each day, but it's now less with regret and more with pride."
They were both still staring out at the mayhem ensuing in front of them, but neither of them were focused on the direction they were facing. Patrick wasn't finished,
"Do you know how I feel when I look at you Trixie?... I feel glad, I feel happy. There are no conflicting emotions when I look at you Trixie. I just remember the joy you brought to Marianne's life, the fun, the laughter, the music. I am sure that's what Tim will remember too."
He turned to face her; she kept her gaze ahead of her.
"So don't ever think you didn't do enough, you are enough!"
Trixie couldn't speak for quite some time. Eventually she found the courage to turn to him. She brought her hand towards his coat and said,
"l remember Marianne buying you this scarf, she was worried the nights were beginning to draw in. That was a good day, a sunny day."
Tom Hereward looked back from his crow's nest perspective, away from the increasingly flustered Smee and the rest of his unusual cast.
His attention returned to the two people he had been watching avidly at the back of the church. He noticed they were no longer there.
He had been concerned for the young women who had been visibly upset, but he knew she was in good hands.
You see there is an alleyway that runs between the church and the parish hall, it's the perfect place to share a confidence, to confess, to reminisce and to smoke a sneaky cigarette, whatever your brand.
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Anything (Chapter 3) - Nik Ryder x f!MC
Summary: After surviving an attempt on her life, she discovers there are worse fates than dying. And they’re all ice cold.
Warnings for this chapter: a few swear words here and there, some mentions of violence
Links to previous chapters: one // two
Nik Ryder, ace Nighthunter, cursed and limped back to his apartment after a long night. Damn feral threw him against a tombstone before he managed to stake it through the heart. Whatever, each feral he hunted came with a pretty penny from the new local vampire kingpin, so he couldn’t complain. He ran a hand through his hair, the usually blunt edges longer and softened and thinned over time, as he went to open the door of his loft. Sunday night crept up slowly to Monday morning, and he estimated that he had at least a few hours before he had to go track down a ghoul terrorizing a tourist boat. Absentmindedly, his thoughts drifted to his next few jobs of the week, his schedule nice and packed the way he preferred it to be.
But as he was turning the key and opening the door to his dark living room, his deft ears picked up on a soft rustling sound originating from the couch. His right hand automatically flew to his crossbow strapped to his back, and he loaded and cocked it expertly as he stepped into the darkness cautiously, preparing himself from whatever monster that somehow managed to break into his place. He elusively side stepped a broken plastic curtain rod on the ground to get to the light switch. The veteran Nighthunter flicked the lights on and pointed his weapon.
“FREEZE!” But he dropped his crossbow with a loud thud. Shock painted his rugged, tired features and his mouth dried at the familiar chocolate brown eyes opening and meeting his.
==============================================
She dropped her bat. Leah groaned and pinched herself hard on her forearm. This had to be another bad dream. It was definitely not the first time she saw her father in a dream.
“Leah, this isn’t a dream.” A wise, comforting voice tilted out of the Fae in front of her. He looked exactly as she remembered him in Lamrian. Tall, regal, exuding an aura of kindness and inherent goodness...and he was supposed to be dead. But there he was, standing in the middle of her small, messy apartment in the middle of bum-fuck-where-the-hell-do-you-live-again Wyoming. His robes even glimmered lowly under the artificial white light of her living room, no evidence of a Bloodwraith attack left. He held his arms out wide towards her patiently.
“That’s what you said in the last dream too…” she replied quietly, taking a few careful steps towards him. As bewildered as she was, she was always respectful in her dreams of him, especially when they didn’t involve his death being replayed over and over again. A part of her never wanted to wake up whenever she got the pleasant ones. To her surprise, what she thought was an apparition reached out and enveloped her in his warm arms, and she knew instantly from the wholeness in her chest it was real. Her arms found his waist and she hugged him back desperately, tears running down her face for the second time that night. They stayed that way for God knows how long. Her father simply held her and let her take all the time she needed, and she was grateful for that.
“But...but I don’t understand.” Leah finally pulled away to meet his gaze. “You’re dead. Wait, does this mean I’m also--”
“No, you’re not,” Lord Elric reassured, wiping away a few tears from her mascara-stained raccoon eyes. “But I did come back here as a final gift to you, albeit temporary.”
“Does this mean you’re a ghost?”
“No, we Fae are different. I’m here for a quick visit. I’m touching you, aren’t I?” A rare smile passed over her features before she started crying again, more emotions in her chest that one night than in the previous three months.
“I’m so happy to see you.” They sat down on her old, lumpy couch. It was strange to her, seeing a Fae lord sitting in her small living room on a couch the most unappealing shade of beige possible, even if he was her father. He sat up straight and addressed her, never letting go of her hands.
“It brings me great joy just to see your face again, my daughter. I needed to come see you tonight.” She winced at his words, wishing that she hadn’t gone out that night. Her father deserved better than seeing her in some trashy club dress that she hadn’t bothered to take off before flopping on her bed alone. She ran a hand through tangled, dirty hair in a pathetic attempt to smooth it out.
“But, Father…why are you here? Wouldn’t it be a better use of your time visiting Lady Thalissa or anyone else watching over Lamrian?” Leah questioned, guilt threatening her consciousness for the billionth time since Lord Elric died and left Lamrian for Lady Thalissa to get back on its feet. Her kind, loving stepmother was unfortunately on her long list of people she couldn’t face.
“I’m here because I wasn’t able to be your father for very long on Earth, but I’m now able to be your father for a little bit now.” A warm yet sad smile was etched on his face, and his gaze became reproachful. “May I offer you some guidance? You seem lost.”
Leah sighed; her life was such a wreck that her father literally came back from the dead temporarily just to tell her that. Great. “You’re not wrong. This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you found out you had a daughter. I didn’t tell you that my life is really just a useless degree and a dead end job in Wyoming and that I don’t really speak to my mother, so she doesn’t know that I know about you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”
“Leah, you’re my daughter and I love you. You could never disappoint me.” Elric stroked her hair, affection crystal clear in his actions. “I don’t care what job you have, as long as it fills you with joy, and I can see this doesn’t. And I loved Jacqueline, but I can understand why you’re not ready to speak with her.”
“This job...hell, this entire life...doesn’t give me joy. And I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know what I wanna do with my life! It’s pathetic; I’m 25 and have absolutely no direction as to where my life is going!” At that point she knew she was most likely still drunk, since the words spilled out like a waterfall. “Oh and can I just say that you’re the only one that gets this isn’t just about Nik? I was already thinking of leaving my job even before I went to New Orleans! My life doesn’t revolve around a man!”
Elric nodded, listening intently to her babbling. “So then what changed?”
“I died.” She hated saying that. “I literally died. And I don’t exactly know how I came back to life. I’m getting really tired of my existence being a mystery. I’m just...tired. I wanted to go back to my life before I found out monsters were real, but I feel absolutely nothing.”
“You feel...nothing?”
“It’s hard to explain. I try to feel something, anything,” she continued to confess. “But I can’t...at least, not since I came back.”
“My daughter,” Elric began and squeezed her hands. “You can’t run away from what happened. You can’t run away from who you are.”
“But I don’t even know who I am anymore! A half-Fae who apparently can die and come back to life but can’t use my damn powers?!” she replied, agitated and stone cold sober at that point.
“But you do know. You do know deep in your heart who you are and what you want, and how you’re going to get it.” Elric met her gaze again more firmly, and she squeezed his hands tighter, sensing that their time together was almost out. “It’s a matter of if you are willing to follow your heart. And I know that my daughter is strong and willing. All I want is for you to be happy; that’s all. I hope you let Thalissa know I love her and will wait patiently for her.”
“I don’t know if I can ever go back to Lamrian. It hurts too much since you’ve been gone.”
“That’s okay. But I hope you know that you will always have a home in Lamrian.” Elric’s form started to become thinner and more transparent, his hands gaseous and cold as Leah desperately tried to hold on for a little bit longer. “I love you, Leah.”
She choked on her own tears. “I love you too, Father.”
Eventually his form completely dissipated, and he returned to being only a memory in the deep recesses of her mind. Her apartment was cold and empty again, but her chest felt warm, alight with a new resolve. Leah heaved herself off her couch and opened her laptop.
==============================================
‘Leah...this is fucking ridiculous, even for you.’ The plane landed in Louisiana a few hours later. Leah hastily typed out an email to her boss that she needed to fly out of town for a sudden death in the family, knowing that it probably wouldn’t matter anyway if she decided to keep wrestling down that all too rational voice in her head and face all her fears. She checked her phone as the taxi took her to her last-minute motel, the streets of New Orleans whizzing past her like the reel of an old movie. She briefly considered texting Katherine and Cal that she was in town, but there was one stop she had to make before doing anything else.
“Best to rip the Band-Aid off first,” Leah muttered to herself after dropping her luggage off at her motel and making her way to what she heard was the best tavern in town. The door clinked open and she took a spot at the bar next to what looked like a man and a woman conversing with an equally human bartender. But she knew better.
The bartender quickly excused himself to serve his next customer, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw Leah’s face. “Leah?”
“Leah!” Ivy noticed her, squealed, and pulled her into a hug. Krom waved shyly as Garrus beamed, his hands flying to make a concoction for her. “Long time no see! How have you been?”
“Honestly…” Leah felt extremely awkward yet happy to be talking with the three supernatural beings she called friends. “Really shitty. Like, super shitty. So shitty that I’m running back to the place that literally killed me once and I don’t even have a job or plan. My life is already a series of bad decisions, so this is pretty in character for me.”
Garrus smiled and slid a pink-purple-blue-sparkle drink to her. “Well, at least you now have a drink at the best bar in town! Ever thought about bartending? That’s why you came here first, right?”
“Not that this isn’t the best bar in town,” she said as she took a sip, the alcohol immediately going to her head. “But I’m actually here for a reason. This is going to sound really, really weird considering what happened...but I need to talk to Nik.”
“My mortal…” Garrus’ handsome face suddenly looked faraway and mournful. Leah held her breath, preparing for the worst. “He’s been working...a lot. More than usual, I’m afraid. Never has time to spend with his old buddies here. And he always looks so sad, so tired.”
Ivy interjected. “We tried talking to him a few times, but he’s always so angry now too. Once I made the mistake of mentioning you and that Bloodwraith looked like a puppy in comparison.”
“He says he’s fine, but he’s clearly not,” Krom’s timid voice rang out from the next stool over, and he placed one of his stone hands over Garrus’. “He actually reminds me of me when I broke up with my ex.”
Yikes. None of that sounded good. Leah felt immediately responsible and she sagged down on her stool. Her hands found her head, and she pushed her hair back, fighting the urge to yank on her strands in punishment. “Does he still live here? I need to at least apologize.”
“Yes he does, and I think he’s coming back from a job soon.” Garrus walked from behind the bar to the stairs leading up to Nik’s loft. He pulled out a key and unlocked it. Leah raised an eyebrow.
“Uhhh isn’t that...illegal?” ‘And really creepy?’
The Fae shrugged. “We supernatural don’t really follow the laws of the human world. Now go inside and wait for him.”
Ivy and Krom each sent her an encouraging grin and she walked up to his apartment. When she closed the door behind her, she immediately noticed how the apartment looked exactly the same as how she left it, but with less upkeep. Leah wordlessly picked up a cracked plastic curtain rod on the ground, surprised that it was still in the apartment, let alone still on the ground. She smiled and set it back down, remembering the first time she woke up in his weird, wonderful apartment.
Leah sat on the same couch and practiced in her head what she was going to say to him. Butterflies soared in her stomach as she waited in anticipation. At some point she turned the lights off since the light was worsening her headache. But minutes soon turned into hours, and she was eventually fast asleep, the past few days catching up to her. It was only when she heard the shout of a veteran Nighthunter and clang of a crossbow dropping to the ground that she woke up.
Brown eyes met another pair of brown eyes that coupled with a sheepish, awkward half-grin. “...Hi, Nik.”
==============================================
A/N: Surprise, I’m alive! So sorry this took so long; school has been keeping me busy and I’m still trying to strike a balance. (I say as I post this at 2am after being at school for 14 hours today.) As always, all feedback is welcome and appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed it and the next update should hopefully be out sooner than this one rolled out!
Tagging: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @nighthunterkatherine @saivilo @samara-rani @god-save-the-keen @xxdangerouscapri15xx @inlovewithrebels
#nightbound#nik ryder#nik x mc#playchoices#choices fanfiction#choices: stories you play#pixelberry#nik ryder x mc#nightbound nik#lord elric#garrus nightbound#krom nightbound#ivy nightbound#nightbound fanfiction#phoebe writes choices
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I love hating you | Elu enemies to lovers AU | Ch. 2
Previous Chapters: 1
Lucas is an angry, closeted and frustrated gay teenager, while Eliott is the handsome, smart and popular guy in school. They hate each other… but not forever.
You are surprising
Lucas woke up with a terrible headache, feeling sick. He walked to the bathroom, taking in a painkiller and brushing his teeth. He could feel the smell of sweat and alcohol on himself. His face looked like a car accident with some horseshit on top of it. He walked back to the couch where he was sleeping, he hoped that Mika has to work today, so he won’t be bothering him. Lisa usually spent the weekends in her room anyways. Manon was still upset because of her breaking up with Charles, so she didn’t really came out of her room during weekends either.
He laid down, trying to ignore the terrible sound of his “bed”. It wasn’t really uncomfortable and considering that he barely could pay the rent, it was more than he could have asked for. He pulled the blanket over his head. His legs felt numb now, his stomach was tiny, his chest hurt. He knew it was just his anxiety trying to take over, but it still freaked him out. Feeling so empty was just the worst.
As he was struggling with his apathy, flashes of last night started to hunt his brain. He barely remembered anything after the first joint he smoke with Arthur. He could feel a touch of warm hands on his shoulder, a nice smell coming into his nose, stormy blue eyes appearing in his mind. Lucas pulled up his knees to his chest, still staying under the blanket. He wanted to stop thinking about it, but flashes of Eliott just kept coming.
His happy smile, the way he looked at Lucas when they were in the bus stop, the feeling of his arms around him. His warm and strong chest, his messy hair and oh, those damn blue eyes. Lucas wanted to scream, rip out his brain and just throw it away. He was feeling everything and nothing at the same time. He hated this.
It was a real struggle going to school on monday, especially since he spend his sunday arguing with Mika. He was telling Lucas how lazy and useless he was around the house, that he was supposed to take care of the dishes on saturday and clean the bathroom, but he didn’t do it. Lucas was far beyond the point where he tried to explain things to his flatmate, because it was pointless. And Mika was also done with Lucas’ bullshit. They both knew that Lucas wasn’t being honest, but since the younger one refused to talk about his problems, Mika couldn’t do anything for him.
He walked to his locker, taking out the books he needed and putting in the ones he doesn’t need until afternoon. He was so busy with packing, he didn’t notice the person appearing by his side, leaning to the lockers, arms crossed in front of his chest. When he closed the door of his locker, he jumped back, looking like a deer caught in headlight. Eliott smirked at him, eyes sparkling like the summer sky.
“Morning.” He said on a soft tone, looking excited. Lucas had no idea why he was acting like this and he didn’t even wanted to know. “Are you okay?”
“Someone definitely overdosed you this morning, Demaury.” he said with a suspicious look on his face.
“I think it was you who got a bit too overdosed on friday.” he said, still with that annoying smile on his face.
“Thank you for reminding me of that.” he said, rolling his eyes. He was hugging his backpack to his chest, hoping that Eliott will finally leave, so he can breathe a little.
“You didn’t even let me get you a taxi. But I can see you got home safe.” he said, reaching his hand out to put a stray lock of hair behind Lucas’ ear. The smaller boy jumped a little, taking a step back. Eliott seemed to be amused by that. Fuck you, Demaury.
“Don’t touch me.” he said angrily.
Eliott was ready to answer when someone walked to them, punching his shoulder gently. It was Alex, smiling brightly, ruffling his friends hair, which made Eliott’s smile to turn into a grumpy expression.
“Morning, Eliott.” he said happily and then looked at Lucas, giving him a fistbump. “Morning, Lulu.”
“Good morning, Alex.” Lucas said with a soft smile, it always cheered him up how this guy was acting like Lucas was his younger brother.
“What do you want, dude?” Eliott asked a bit annoyed, Lucas was surprised how his enthusiasm were gone now. He seemed to be annoyingly happy just a couple minutes ago.
“I am not here because of you.” Alex said and handed Lucas the scarf he left at his place on friday. “Here, I guess this one is yours, Lulu.” He said smiling, ignoring the piercing stare he got from Eliott. Lucas smiled happily, he totally forgot about his scarf, and it was kinda cold today, so he will need it for sure. He grabbed it and stuffed into his bag.
“Thanks, Alex. I thought I lost it forever.”
“Next time make sure you don’t leave it behind.” he said softly, ruffling Lucas’ hair. The short one chuckled, he really felt like the younger brother of Alex, it made his day a bit less shitty.
“I will, thank you.”
“No worries.” Alex said and walked away with a big smile on his face. Lucas was still smiling, looking back at Eliott, who seemed to be really upset now. He tilted his head, looking into those stormy eyes. He’s so fucking handsome.
“What’s wro...”
“Whatever, I’m going to class.” Eliott said, walking away just as quickly as he appeared. Lucas was watching him a bit shocked and confused. He is just as weird as good looking.
Days passed and Lucas haven’t see Eliott much, only on their literature class, but he was strangely quiet, barely even said hi to Lucas. The small boy was a bit concerned about his behavior, not admitting to himself that he was actually worried.
On wednesday he got a message from his mother, a short verse from the bible, including the fires of hell and some other shit like that. Lucas tried to forget about it. He had to text his father to remind him that he needed to pay the rent. His parents were just the worst, even though his mother wasn’t like this on purpose, it felt like he had no one to rely on.
He was already very frustrated, so after his classes he decided to go to the common room. He had no patience to listen to Mika’s bullshit and he had no chores to do today anyways. He walked in, but the girls weren’t there. He was surprised, but also glad. It was nice to be finally alone, letting go of himself and forgetting the lies he was building each day.
He looked at the piano in the corner, right in front of that terrible mural. Daphné was planning to repaint it, she had a lot of ideas to redecorate the common room, maybe that’s why they weren’t here. He could remember Emma saying that they wanted to get some stuff for Daphné’s plans this week.
His steps were unsure a bit, but then he decided to fuck it and walked to the piano, sitting down on the little bench in front of it. He opened the key lid, looking at the black and white keyboard. He haven’t played in a long time now, since they didn’t have a piano at the flat, but he loved to learn playing the piano, making his mom smile with some silly or happy music.
He was searching for melodies in his head, he remembered a complicated piece from a couple years ago. He was supposed to go to a competition with it, but his mom snapped just a day before, so he had to take care of her. He put his fingers on the keys, they were cold, but made him feel warm in his chest. A bit of nostalgia crawled its way up inside him and this time he let it to take over. He took a deep breath and started to play.
His mind got lost into the song, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the freedom he felt spreading in his chest. He forgot about his pain, his worries, his lies, he was just living with the music his fingers created on the instrument. It was really magical and he felt sad when the song ended. He wished it could go on forever, to just sit here and keep playing the piano until the end of the world.
He stopped playing, opening his eyes when he heard slow clapping, he jumped, turning around quickly to see Eliott Demaury himself standing in the door of the common room. He was standing there a while now, cause his bag was in front of his legs, not on his back. He was wearing dark jeans that were ripped at the knee parts, a black shirt and his usual hoodie jacket combo. But the thing that catched Lucas’ attention was his stunning smile and those piercing eyes. They were filled with so much emotion, focusing on Lucas like he was the only person on the whole world.
“That was awesome.” Eliott said after a minute of clapping.
Lucas didn’t know what to say, just watched as Eliott grabbed the straps of his bag, walking inside and closing the door behind him. He felt his heart beating faster as the boy got closer and closer. Finally he was standing in front of Lucas, looking down at him, still with that weird expression on his face. He couldn’t decide what he saw in those eyes, they looked like the sea on a really windy day, filled with waves of emotions.
“You are surprising.” he said, looking into Lucas’ eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone to hear it.” He mumbled, finally able to find his voice, but that was basically all he could push out. He was just in total panic thanks to the tall boy, stading so close to him. His neck was hurting because of looking up at him, but he didn’t wanted to break eyecontact.
“Didn’t know you can play piano. I wonder if there’s anything else you keep in secret.” he said with a soft, teasing smile.
“Not like you don’t know it already.” Lucas said, pointing out how Eliott knows about his sexuality.
“That was more of a guess. And you made my suspicions turn out to be right with how you reacted to me.” he said smiling. Lucas could punch him in the face. How dare he be so stunningly sweet? That was illegal.
“I hate you so much.” Lucas mumbled, blaming his own stupidity for letting Eliott indirectly know that he is gay. The tall boy chuckled, running his fingers through his own hair, looking at Lucas happily.
“I know that.” he said smiling.
“Why are you here?” Lucas couldn’t find a better question to ask, his brain was fucking him up so bad. Eliott’s smell was crawling into his nose, the flashes from friday night started to haunt him again. He remembered Eliott’s arms around his body, holding him so carefully, but still strongly. He remembered the warmth of his body and his breath on his neck. He got goosebumps just thinking about it.
“I was on my way going home, then I heard the music. When I saw you sitting here, playing the piano... I just couldn’t leave.” he explained.
Lucas felt his heart skipping a beat, he couldn’t tell why, but it made him happy that Eliott wanted to stay and listen to his music. They were staring at each other for long minutes, he had no idea who took the first move, but their face was so close now that he felt Eliott’s breath on his lips. He closed his eyes, lips opening a little. He was just following the moment, not thinking about what he was about to do. Their lips almost touched, when they heard a loud banging.
Eliott pulled back, putting his bag on his shoulder, looking really lost and avoiding to look into the other boy’s eyes. The girls walked into the common room, bringing lots of special stuff with them, chatting and laughing loudly. They were already inside when they noticed the boys. Lucas quickly closed the lid of the piano. Manon and Emma were too busy talking, but Daphné smiled at them softly.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting of you guys to be here.” she said softly. “We got some supplies to redecorate the common room.”
“That’s amazing, Daphy.” Lucas said softly, trying to forget about that moment with Eliott, which was hard considering that said boy was standing just a few meters away from him.
“I was just... I heard you wanna repaint that shit.” Eliott said, pointing at the mural. “If you need help with it, I can try to make something better to cover it.” he offered with a little smile now. He looked at Lucas, who was staring at him in awe. Eliott repainting the mural? How can he be so fucking perfect?
“Oh really?” Daphné asked with that bright smile of her. “That is so generous of you! I would love that.” she said excitedly. “I was actually worried, since I didn’t wanted to just repaint it to a certain color, but none of us is really the artistic type, y’know.” she said looking at the girls. They were packing stuff out of bags and boxes, discussing where to put all those, how to start the decoration.
“I’ll let you know when I have free time to do it.” Eliott said. “I gotta go now. See you.” he said, but when he said the last two words, he was looking at Lucas only, which made the boy gasp. Then Eliott disappeared behind the door and he stayed there with the girls. He joined them in the packing, trying to get into the conversation, so he wouldn’t be thinking about that he almost kissed Eliott fucking Demaury.
It was really late, Lucas was staring at his phone, more specifically a picture of Eliott on instagram. It was just a simple selfie, he looked into the camera, his hair was messy, he had dark circles around his eyes like always. He wasn’t smiling, well not the way he smiled at Lucas. It was just a half-smirk playing on his lips. The caption said: “Missing you”.
He posted it like 6 hours ago, not much after he left the common room. People in the comments were freaking out, mostly girls. They were guessing who the caption could be about, asking questions, but Eliott didn’t reply to any of those. Lucas didn’t know what to think about all this. He had a weird feeling that the caption was about him, but he didn’t wanted to think about that. He can’t have feelings for Eliott, not a good idea. What if I already feel something?
Lucas showed his phone under his pillow, closing his eyes, but all he could see was Eliott’s face. His eyes while he was clapping, smiling at Lucas. His face before they leant close to each other. The smell of Eliott kept haunting him, it was infuriating.
He spent long hours, suffering from his own thoughts. This caused him to sleep only 3 or 4 hours. He drank two mugs of black coffee in the morning before going to school. It wasn’t the best idea, but he had to stay awake and function in school somehow.
Literature was his third class, but Lucas still looked like a walking dog poop. His eyelids tried to close every fifth minute, his limbs felt heavy, he sat down to his place, totally not noticing that Eliott is there. His mind could only process one thing at a time, and that was him trying not to fall asleep.
He jumped a little when a warm hand touched his shoulder, looking to his left and seeing Eliott made his face feel suddenly really hot. First he thought it was embarrassment, but then he felt dizzy, not understanding what Eliott was saying to him. His eyes closed, his body was falling, ending up in strong arms. They everything ceased to exist and Lucas enjoyed the nothing surrounding him.
Quiet noises made him open his eyes, he wasn’t sure where he was, but he laid in a bed, having a blanket on him, but still wearing his indoor outfit, so he was definitely not home. His eyelids felt heavy, his head was spinning, but he slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes. His heart was fluttering of the thought that Eliott was there with him.
“Hey, how are you?” he asked softly, he looked relieved now that Lucas was conscious again.
“I feel dizzy.” he said honestly, struggling to put his body into sitting position. He could see that Eliott wasn’t happy that he moved so much, but didn’t do anything to stop him. “What happened?”
“You fainted in class.” he said simply. His eyes were dark, filled with worry which made Lucas smile a little.
“Yeah, that makes sense.” he mumbled and laid back on the soft pillows. It felt good to finally get some rest in a real bed and not on a goddamn couch. “Sorry that you had to take care of me.” he said now, hugging the blanket on his body, looking at every little expression the other one makes.
“Yeah, I had to carry you here, it wasn’t easy.” he said with a soft smile. “You owe me a lot, Lallemant.” the way he said Lucas’ name gave him goosebumps.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you can make it up with...”
“Lulu!” Arthur, Yann and Basile stormed into the nursing room loudly, running to the bed, surrounding Lucas, asking questions, talking to fast for him to understand.
“Hey! Hey! Guys, I am fine, but calm down! I can’t understand shit.” he said, raising his hand to stop his friends talking. From the corner of his eyes he saw Eliott leaving, using that the boys were focused on Lucas. Of course he didn’t wanted to stay. Why would he wanna stay with such a loser as you, Lucas?
He told his friends what happened, trying to avoid mentioning Eliott. Luckily they were focused on the fact that Lucas fainted and asked if he was sick. He told them that he has some trouble sleeping, but other than that he was fine. Well, they were asking about his physical health, so he actually wasn’t lying to them this time.
He spent the rest of the day in the nursing room, resting and thinking about Eliott. He went home around 16:20, the school doctor made sure he got food, enough water and anything else. She was really nice to Lucas, which was a fresh thing after all the things he had to endure at the flat and from his parents.
He was laying on the couch, the others were either not home or working, he had no idea, but he enjoyed the silence. He looked at his phone and noticed that he got a message, it was a DM on instagram, from Eliott himself. He swallowed before he opened the app to see the message.
srodulv
You still owe me
Did you get home safe?
Lucas smirked like an idiot, seeing those messages and just enjoying the fact that this asshole at least a little bit cared for him. It was such a good feeling, his heart was beating faster, his palms were sweaty. He had to wipe them before typing a reply to Eliott.
lucallemant
I’ll make it up to you, don’t worry
I’m home now, laying on the couch
srodulv
You should be in bed, not on the couch
lucallemant
The couch is my bed
He wasn’t really thinking before sending that message. That was just so pathetic and lame. He ruined the mood totally and after long minutes without any sign from Eliott, he knew that it was a stupid idea telling the truth.
srodulv
You don’t have a bed?
lucallemant
there’s only three room in the flat and we’re four
I am the one who got the couch
srodulv
Isn’t that a little unfair?
lucallemant
It sucks, but I barely can pay the rent, so it’s more than what I deserve
srodulv
You deserve so much more
lucallemant
Are you sure this is Eliott Demaury? I’m starting to think someone hacked your insta
srodulv
Very funny
Go to sleep, Lallemant
lucallemant
Sure, see you
srodulv
See you
Lucas put down his phone next to his pillow, but then picked it up again, reading their conversation over and over. He just couldn’t believe his eyes, but it was true. And maybe... just maybe he was right about that insta post. His heart started racing again, making it impossible for him to fall asleep, so instead he just went to Eliott’s profile, liking that last post. He closed his eyes, putting his phone down now. He haven’t feel so happy in a long time now.
Writers note: We’ll this got together fast, thanks to an idea of my best mec. I hope you guys liked it. I appreciate all the messages and asks I recieved! Feel free to do so after this chapter, I wanna hear your opinion about it. What do you like in it, what you don’t like? It would help me a lot! Bisou
#Elu enemies to lovers AU#Skam France#Elu#Eliott Demaury#Lucas Lallemant#Eliott x Lucas#I love hating you
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forever is composed of nows (trixya) 2/2 - beanierose
(part one)
AN: This monstrosity of a chapter would not exist without my amazing betas nadia and meggie, as well as the wonderful cheer squad that is conny, shea and mia. Thank you all so much for listening to my nonsensical ramblings at all hours of the day and night.
(read on a03) | (find me at katiehoughton)
It’s a soulmate AU where you feel the opposite emotion to whatever the other person is feeling | 15,497 words
It feels a little like they exist outside of time. It’s still early, and the street below is quiet. Katya has her kitchen window open; she leaves it that way all summer, even though Mama tuts and frets. She likes the smell of the morning, likes feeling like she’s the only one awake in the whole world.
She isn’t. Trixie is here. She extracts herself from Katya’s arms but stays close, her body warm and good next to Katya’s. She swipes at her cheeks with the pads of her fingers and huffs a self-conscious little laugh. Katya likes her so much.
There’s a box of tissues on the countertop and Trixie pats delicately at her face like she’s forgotten she’s not wearing makeup and is trying to preserve her mascara.
“Sorry,” she says. “I’m not really a crier. I don’t know why I can’t stop today.”
Katya snorts. “I am. The drama of it all? I love it.”
It makes Trixie laugh. Making Trixie laugh is her new most favourite thing to do. Katya wants, so badly, but everything is tentative. She’s not looking to freak Trixie out here. She turns away from her and busies herself with the kettle, setting it on the burner to boil. A tingling hyperawareness of Trixie travels up her spine and along her arms, into her fingertips.
She’s right there. It’s so surreal. She’s waited her whole life to find her sestrinskoye serdste and now she’s here in Katya’s kitchen like they do this every Saturday. Trixie is rummaging in the refrigerator and singing something under her breath.
“Breakfast?” She pops back out to look at Katya around the door.
“I’m teaching a class in about an hour. I don’t like to eat till after.” Trixie wrinkles her nose at that. She’s holding a carton of eggs in both hands, cradling it against her stomach protectively. Katya wants to let her do whatever she likes. Is going to let her. “But we could go out? When I’m done.”
Trixie nods, a few more times than is strictly necessary. She puts the carton of eggs back and closes the door, leans against it. Every time Katya looks at her, it feels like the first time. The light makes Trixie’s lashes and her eyebrow hairs look extra blonde. She has a dimple in her left cheek when she smiles.
And Katya feels, clearer now than she ever has, the tenderness that Trixie has towards her. It’s making her punch-drunk, a bit lightheaded. The kettle starts whistling and she’s glad to busy herself. Trixie works right beside her, slicing up a lemon into segments. The way her wrists move and the delicate grip of her fingers around the knife makes Katya wonder whether she plays piano as well as guitar.
She’s so femme. Not that Katya is at all that butch, but Trixie is something else. Her ponytail is held up with a pink scrunchie and she’s wearing a white mini dress with a pink denim jacket on top. Katya wants to undress her, wants to look at her soft stomach and her thick thighs, but she also doesn’t really want to deconstruct this carefully cultivated look.
“Do you have a container? Usually I like to freeze them.”
Trixie is going to leave things in Katya’s freezer. Trixie is going to come back here, lots and lots of times. She waits patiently for Katya to absorb that information, her face totally smooth and free of uncertainty.
“Um. Yeah. Sure.” She digs around in the cabinet for a Tupperware and hands it to Trixie over her shoulder, not looking.
She takes it. She takes it, and her other hand touches the back of Katya’s head. It’s so quick, could have been an accident, but Katya feels Trixie’s intention behind the wall of her own chest. Trixie wants to touch her.
“I’m gonna go right ahead and slice them all up.”
Katya leans back against the countertop and rests her hands either side of her hips. She knows it makes the muscles in her arms flex, makes her tattoos shift, and she catches Trixie looking. Ever since she met Trixie she’s felt off-kilter, like she has to tread carefully so she doesn’t lose her balance. It’s not really her.
She’s a top, thank you very much.
“That’s very presumptuous, Miss Mattel.” She lifts one eyebrow, sees the two lovely spots of colour that appear in the apples of Trixie’s cheeks, is thrilled by that.
For a second she wonders whether Trixie will be flustered. Instead she puts the knife down - right, oops - and narrows her eyes at Katya. “We are literally soulmates, you dumb slut.”
It’s the first time that either of them has said it so plainly, and it takes them both by surprise. Trixie’s gaze immediately lowers and Katya sucks in a sharp breath through her teeth. She likes the way that sounds, would like to hear Trixie tell it to everyone she knows. Katya wants to lean out of the open kitchen window and call down to the people beginning to fill the street below.
“We sure are.” She grins, waits for Trixie to smile back at her. “I gotta get ready for work. Make yourself at home. Fill up my freezer with whatever you want.”
She leaves Trixie in the kitchen, carving her bag of lemons into neat and even segments. Katya’s outfits for teaching vary quite wildly. It depends on how lazy she’s feeling and how on top of her laundry she’s been that week. She just did some, so she picks out her favourite red unitard. It has little eyes embroidered around the bottom of the legs and the built in sports bra makes her tits look bigger than they actually are.
She winds her hair into two braids to keep it out of her face during class, even though her bangs are in her eyes again so she’s still going to end up cranky and sweaty. Maybe Trixie will trim them for her later. Katya puts on some more deodorant, sprays some perfume as well. She’s primping now, and it’s not for her students.
When Katya comes out of her bedroom and Trixie catches sight of her, she drops the knife into the sink. It clatters loudly, and the water is still running, but Katya hears the strangled little noise that Trixie makes. She doesn’t say anything, but Katya doesn’t need her to. She can feel it. The knot of desire tightening in Trixie’s stomach, the frantic pounding of her heart, the rush of blood into all of her extremities.
“You’re so- I just want-”
Trixie holds her wet hands out in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s cleaned the kitchen while Katya was changing, and she’s poured Katya’s tea in a travel mug for her to take to the studio.
Katya wants, too. She does. She’d like to call in sick to work today and take Trixie to bed. But they’ve only known each other for a handful of hours, and if this is going to be forever…she’s not looking to rush things. They deserve more.
“You like it?” Katya turns around to let Trixie see the back of her outfit. Her ass is nothing spectacular compared to Trixie’s, but it’s toned and round and she enjoys showing it off.
She turns back around, and Trixie is blushing again. Still. “I like it very much. You look really hot.”
“Thanks. I gotta leave now, but you can hang out here and I’ll see you when I’m back?”
“No, I’m gonna go back to my hotel,” Trixie says. Katya tries very hard not to let it show on her face, and then remembers that Trixie can feel the disappointment that has just reared its head in her stomach. She comes hastily around the kitchen island to take Katya’s hands in both of hers. “To freshen up. I’ll meet you someplace.”
She feels childlike with wonder. Trixie’s fingers are warm, not so slender and bony as Katya’s, and her thumbs are making absent-minded circles over the backs of Katya’s hands.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”
“I want to spend the whole day with you. If that’s alright.”
Trixie is just as tentative as Katya is. She can feel her own heartbeat and feel Trixie’s too, ever so slightly out of sync. Neither of them knows what they’re doing here, not really. Katya had asked her last night if she knows many other soulbound people and she said she doesn’t think so, but since she’s never told anybody before it’s not something that really comes up.
In her nearly forty years on the planet, Katya has only met three soulbound couples. She knows plenty of people who haven’t found their sestrinskoye serdste yet; up until yesterday they’ve been the only people she has who really know how hard it is. But only three who have actually made it work. There were the Sullivans that she grew up watching not at all discretely every Sunday at church. Her friend from college, Brooke, who just last year got married to Vanessa. And her colleague Raja who used to talk non-stop about Raven, her wife.
Three couples is not many, not nearly enough that Katya can hazard a guess as to how this is supposed to go. And anyway, Brooke’s the only one she’s close enough to that she felt comfortable asking what it was like. With Brooke and Vanessa everything happened so quickly, like a flash flood. Katya isn’t sure if it’s because they’re soulbound, or because they’re lesbians.
“I want to spend the day with you too, Trixie.” She still enjoys the sound of her name very much. It feels like an incantation, like if she says it enough times everything between them will go smoothly.
And, well, she’s been waiting thirty years to put a name to her sestrinskoye serdste. When she was younger she used to try and imagine what it could be, would sometimes name them inside of her head just to see what it felt like. Trixie never crossed her mind.
Not just her name. Everything about her.
“I’ll walk you to work?”
Katya agrees to that. She can’t imagine not agreeing to anything that Trixie suggests. She has her gym bag with everything she needs for work slung over her shoulder. It keeps slipping down so she has to hold on to it, but she still has a hand free to hold Trixie’s. They’re clasped loosely so that they can walk, and she likes how warm Trixie’s palm is and the way that their knotted hands will sometimes bump her hip, sometimes Trixie’s.
At the door of the yoga studio, Katya takes her travel mug of tea back from Trixie. Everything this morning has been so achingly domestic. She likes the way Trixie looks in her space. Katya isn’t usually one for sharing her apartment. She loves having friends over, but loves equally when they leave again at the end of the night. It isn’t like that with Trixie. She wants her there again, as many times as Trixie would like.
She has trouble focusing during class. Her students can definitely tell. Usually, she is completely committed to their growth, making sure to divide her attention evenly between all of them. One of her regulars is still having a bit of trouble with her salabhasana and Katya kneels beside her and helps guide her into it, but she’s thinking about Trixie. Kneeling beside Trixie, putting her hands on Trixie.
It takes her until the class is almost over to realize that part of the reason is because Trixie is thinking about her. Trixie is back at her hotel, freshening up — Katya can’t fathom how she could possibly look more like a perfect paper doll cut neatly from a magazine — and thinking about her. And she can feel it, and she can’t focus on much more than the heat between her thighs.
When class is over and Katya checks her phone, she has a text from Trixie. Her head snaps up and sure enough, Trixie is right across the street leaning against the edifice of the laundrette. She has her phone in both hands, her head bent over it. Katya watches her for a second. She wonders if other people are watching her too and wondering who she is. Katya likes the idea of that, of getting to walk outside and greet Trixie and maybe some of those other people will see them and be jealous.
A couple of her students are waiting behind to ask her questions. She’s patient with them, because she feels good after an hour of practice and because she likes them. They’re enthusiastic and willing to learn and she appreciates it. She feels eyes on her and when she sneaks a glance Trixie has put her phone away and is watching.
Outside in the sunshine, Katya gets to hug Trixie hello. She’s let her hair down and it falls in soft curls all across her shoulders and her back. She’s put makeup on, an intricate and graphic eye look and a pink lipstick and more blush than Katya has ever seen on a real person before.
“You know you don’t have to put makeup on for me.”
“It’s not for you,” Trixie shrieks, indignant, and swats at Katya. “It’s for me. I’m feeling my fantasy.”
Katya laughs at that and reaches for Trixie’s hand to hold. She can’t fathom not touching her. Not after how long they’ve waited, how much they’ve hurt. Trixie has sunglasses on top of her head and she puts them on, looks at Katya through the pink circle lenses.
“You’re beautiful either way,” Katya says. She doesn’t mean it to come out with quite so much tenderness, but the way Trixie chews on her bottom lip is worth it.
Just like Trixie suggested, they spend the whole day together. Trixie’s been to Boston a couple of times before but hasn’t seen much of the city, so Katya gets to show her around. Trixie is sweet and enthusiastic, tethered to the end of Katya’s arm. She has something to say about every single thing Katya points out to her. She overflows with opinions and anecdotes, and Katya wants to collect each one like a pearl and thread them all together.
Things between them are so easy. And it’s not just the soulbound thing. Katya is sure after only a day that even if Trixie wasn’t her sestrinskoye serdste, they would still be friends. They have the same sense of humour. Trixie keeps up with Katya’s tangents in a way that not many other people are able to. They laugh all day long.
Trixie likes to take pictures. She takes pictures of Katya and pictures of both of them and pictures of the duckling sculpture in the public garden. When they stop for lunch, Trixie posts a few to her Instagram story. She’s tagged Katya in one of them. It’s a photograph of her, head turned so she’s almost in profile. Trixie’s put a few gifs of hearts around Katya’s head like she’s a cartoon, all lovestruck.
“You kind of have a lot of followers on here,” Katya says. She’s not really sure how to feel about that. Thousands of people are going to see her in Trixie’s story and wonder about her.
Trixie sets her fork down and looks at Katya across the table. “Katya. I’m already sort of famous, and that’s only going to keep growing. Or I hope so, at least.”
“It will,” Katya hurries to reassure Trixie. She believes in herself so much that Katya knows it’s going to happen for her.
“If that’s gonna be a problem for you,” Trixie trails off, waves her now empty hand in the air.
Katya does Trixie the courtesy of really thinking about her answer before she says anything. Just because they’re soulbound doesn’t mean they won’t still have to compromise and work at things.
“It isn’t a problem. I’m really proud of you.”
She can sacrifice a little of her privacy if it means that she gets to be a part of Trixie’s private world. Trixie is smiling into her salad. Beneath the table, she slides her foot forward until it nudges in between both of Katya’s.
“Obviously. I’m incredible.” She fans herself with one hand and makes a little moaning sound and Katya feels it like a hand around her throat, has to press her thighs together even as she laughs.
They head back out into the warmth of Boston in the summertime. Katya sweats even in her unitard, which professes to wick moisture away from the skin. She didn’t bring sunglasses with her and she has to shade shadesher eyes with her hand so that she can even see Trixie.
“Here,” Trixie says. She hands Katya the carton of cigarettes she’s been carrying around all day in her little clear plastic backpack.
Katya didn’t want to carry her duffel around with her all day, so she left it at the yoga studio. They’ll swing by later to get it, but for now Trixie is carrying Katya’s phone and keys and wallet and her cigarettes. It’s so domestic that it aches physically in her chest.
Katya fishes a cigarette out of the pack and lights it, hands everything back to Trixie to put away. She inhales deeply, holds the smoke in her mouth for as long as she can before she has to exhale.
“You keep doing that.”
“Hmm?” Trixie turns to look at her. Her sunglasses are so huge that Katya can’t see much of her face, but she gets the idea. “Doing what?”
Katya takes another drag. “Handing me cigarettes before I even ask.”
She’s done it three or four times so far today. It’s cute, she likes it very very much. And likes too that Trixie doesn’t seem to mind Katya smoking, even though she really shouldn’t be enabled and she’s going to quit soon, she is.
“Oh,” Trixie laughs. “Yeah. I can feel when you need one. I’m craving them too, you bitch.”
Katya stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk, just exactly how she always hates when tourists do. Trixie takes hold of her elbow and draws her to the side so that they’re both leaning against the warm brick of the building beside them.
“You can feel that?”
“Yeah. I can feel pretty much everything.” Katya opens her mouth to apologise, because God knows even she can barely deal with how much she feels sometimes, but Trixie cuts in. “I like it. I like being soulbound to you, Katya.”
It wipes her out. Katya presses the back of her hand to her forehead and closes her eyes. She’s still holding her half-smoked cigarette and she stubs it out against the wall.
When she opens her eyes again Trixie is watching her. She doesn’t look nervous. And that’s probably because she already knows, before Katya speaks.
“I like being soulbound to you as well. A lot. I can’t believe you’re real.”
Trixie takes her hand, now that it’s free. She’s been doing that a lot, all morning. Reaching for Katya, wanting to be near her. It’s sweet, and it’s good, because Katya wants to be near Trixie every day from now on.
“I’m real. You are, too.” She squeezes Katya’s fingers as if to ground her. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Katya says, and finds that she means it.
It takes her the better part of an hour to plan out in her head how to ask Trixie to come up to her apartment. Spending the whole day together has been wonderful, and Katya wants Trixie to spend the night, too.
Not for sex. They’re not going to have sex today, she’s pretty sure. Trixie deserves better than for Katya to shove her up against the front door the second that they get inside, even though it’s all she’s been able to think about for most of the afternoon.
At the door to the building, Katya opens her mouth, but Trixie gets there first. “Can I come up? I don’t wanna say goodbye to you.”
Trixie’s anxious to ask; Katya feels her heart fluttering in her own throat. Both of them are swinging wildly between ease and awkwardness.
“Yes. Yeah, God. Come up.”
Each time Trixie is in Katya’s apartment — this is the third, already, wow — she seems more at home than the last. Katya’s been wearing her unitard out and about around the city all day. Trixie had asked her whether she wanted to change and she had levelled her with a look, had done a little pirouette right where she stood to prove to Trixie that she’s comfortable in her skin.
She leaves Trixie to go shower. And yeah, she hurries, and maybe she gets her makeup remover in her eye and curses loudly up into the stream of the water. She debates, once she’s out. Part of her wants to put on something cute, but she’s tired and she wants to be comfortable. She iscomfortable, around Trixie.
Katya pulls on a pair of gym shorts that she’s had for so long the material has started to go bobbly, and an oversized tee that hangs off one shoulder. Back out in the living room, Trixie has settled herself on the couch and is scrolling through Netflix.
“You look so cute,” she says when she sees Katya.
Her heart grows wings, soars up into her throat. Trixie thinks that she’s cute. Trixie is patting the seat cushion next to her and looking at Katya expectantly.
Inviting Katya onto her own couch. It shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t send another rush of want through Katya’s stomach and thighs.
She leaves a respectable distance between them when she sits down, and Trixie huffs and shunts over until their legs are touching. Hers are bare too, her dress riding up, and she’s taken off her jacket.
“Do you know what this is?” Trixie gestures at the screen with the remote.
“Do you think I’m some kind of crazy bitch? I’m not that old, I know what Friends is.”
Trixie laughs and dumps the remote on the coffee table. It’s stained with rings from all of the mugs Katya likes to set down carelessly, and one of the legs has a dent she doesn’t even remember putting there. She can’t imagine anything in Trixie’s apartment is less than pristine, but she doesn’t seem to care at all.
“White people problems,” she says in a nasal valley-girl voice that makes Katya wince and hide her face against Trixie’s shoulder.
The sound isn’t even on, she’s got it muted with subtitles, but that’s good. It’s good. It means they can talk. And they do.
Katya has known Trixie as a whole, for all of her life, but she is still not certain about all of the different pieces. And that’s alright. There’s forever to learn.
Last night was hard and lonesome; her body hurts. After an episode and a half, Katya lays herself down right in Trixie’s lap. It’s something she does all the time with friends, but there’s a different sort of intimacy to it tonight.
Trixie’s hand comes to her hair right away and her fingers sift through the knots and tangles. She’s so gentle. When she’s finished, she leaves her wide warm palm at Katya’s cheekbone and her thumb makes slow arcs back and forth.
Katya closes her eyes and allows herself to drift slowly in and out of consciousness. Trixie is above her, smelling so good and still petting Katya’s hair. She talks for a little while longer, but Katya is listening more to the intonation of her voice than the words themselves. Her mumbled, lazy noises in response get more spread out and eventually she gives up altogether.
Trixie is behind her when she wakes up again properly, laying down on the couch. Her arm circles Katya’s middle so that they don’t both roll off, and Katya is delighted to find her there. She’s awake too, Katya feels her awareness like a third presence in the room.
She rolls over, careful not to dislodge Trixie’s arm. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep a lot last night.”
“It’s strange,” Trixie says, and there’s a note of wonder in her voice. “When you’re sleeping. It’s like, this absolute calm. I felt so good, just now.”
I want to make you feel so good, Katya thinks, but does not say. She met Trixie yesterday. And, as much as it aches low down in her gut, she’s enjoying the anticipation too much to give in just yet.
“Do you want to come to bed? The couch isn’t so comfortable.”
“I can’t,” Trixie sighs. Her eyeliner has gotten a little smudged and her lipstick has worn away in the middle. It’s a different Trixie, her first time meeting this version of her, and she likes her just as much as all of the others. “I have to get on the bus at six.”
She sits up, and Katya lets her because she isn’t sure what else to do. They’ve only had this one day and it is so unfair of the universe. To drop Trixie right in her lap and then take her away again just as quickly is cruel and barbed and makes it so that her breath catches in her throat.
“Tour bus?”
“No. I’m not that successful yet. An actual bus.”
Katya likes that. How she says yet, how she believes in herself so unwaveringly. She hopes that Trixie will grow to believe in Katya like that, and in them both together.
“I can’t believe you have to leave already.”
“I know.”
Katya is still in Trixie’s lap and she looks up at her. It’s not a flattering angle, shouldn’t be cute, but Katya likes the smooth column of Trixie’s neck and her round chin.
She sits up, because Trixie’s thighs are warm and soft and right there. It would be so easy to turn her head just a little and open her mouth against Trixie’s skin. Katya feels a bit spaced out from her nap. When she settles upright her brain takes a second to catch up and she closes her eyes, pinches the bridge of her nose.
Gentle fingers at her shoulder make her open her eyes again. She’s not startled by it. It seems as if she will never be startled by Trixie, and Trixie won’t be by her either, because she is as aware of Trixie as she is of her own hands.
“I should go,” Trixie says, and does not move.
She’s got her elbow propped against the back of the couch, her head resting in the cup of her palm. And she’s looking at Katya, and her face is smooth and patient and gentle. Her hair is a little funky in the back from lying on the couch and her makeup is coming away so that Katya can see her pink nose and cheeks.
It’s lovely. Trixie’s lovely.
“You should go,” Katya agrees.
They both know that when Trixie leaves here, they’re not going to get to see each other for weeks. She’s got several more dates of her tour, and then she has to go back to Los Angeles for a bunch of meetings with her producer.
After that’s done, she told Katya that she’ll fly back to Boston and spend some more time with her. Real time, time that can be just theirs. It’s too far away though, and Katya can’t fathom one single day without Trixie now that she knows her.
Trixie’s phone vibrates with a text from Bob. She wrinkles her nose and reads it aloud to Katya. It’s a very graphic description of what Bob is going to do to Trixie if she misses her bus in the morning.
“Go, honey,” Katya says gently. She doesn’t really mean for the hypocorism to escape her, but Trixie blushes immediately and gets this open-mouthed, startled look. “You need to get some sleep.”
Instead of getting up, Trixie tips forwards on the couch until her face is hidden against Katya’s shoulder. She brings her hand up to cup the back of Trixie’s head, touches her thumb to the shell of Trixie’s ear.
“I don’t wanna leave you.” She’s a little petulant, a little bratty, but it’s because she doesn’t want to say goodbye to Katya so it’s just about the most endearing thing she’s ever heard.
This middle of the night tenderness is making Katya brave. She lets her lips brush the crown of Trixie’s head and lingers there for a little while. “I don’t want you to leave me, either. I really don’t. But you’ll be miserable in the morning.”
“I’ll be miserable in the morning anyway,” Trixie says, and sits up. She blinks at Katya. “I can’t believe we only get one day.”
She looks a little teary again. Their twin sadnesses live inside of Katya’s chest, one red and one blue and just slightly offset so that she can hardly breathe around the three dimensional ache of it.
“We don’t just get one day. We’ll see each other soon, honey.”
Trixie nods and bites her bottom lip like she’s trying not to cry. She gets up from the couch and collects her jacket and her backpack, puts her pristine white sneakers back on. She lets Katya walk her all the way down to the lobby and they wait together for her Uber.
They’re holding hands again. Katya’s not wearing any shoes or a bra and Trixie looks like she’s just been released from her twist ties and lifted from her packaging. They must make an insane pair, but it’s nearly one in the morning so Katya doubts anybody’s going to judge them for it.
When the car pulls up Trixie lets out a strangled little noise. She turns to Katya and wraps both arms around her waist, presses her face to Katya’s neck. She has to bend to do it, because she’s several inches taller, and Katya likes the arc of her spine.
“I’ll see you soon, baby. It’s gonna be okay.” She gentles Trixie with her fingers through her hair.
Trixie straightens again and she’s not crying but her eyes are pink and she’s blinking much more than usual. She reminds Katya of a bunny with her soft hair and her big eyes and her little sniffles.
She steps out of the building and greets her Uber driver, slides into the back of the car. Her face is turned towards the window and she flutters her fingers at Katya in a little wave.
Katya turns around to head back upstairs, because she doesn’t want to watch Trixie drive away from her. In her apartment she brushes her teeth and turns out all the lights and flops right into bed. She has both arms around her other pillow and she cradles it to her chest, gives it warm soft skin and thick thighs and hair that smells like juniper berry and lavender.
Her phone is plugged in on the nightstand (she’s proud of herself for remembering) and it buzzes with a message notification. She rolls over and opens one eye to peer at it, the screen too bright even though it’s turned all the way down.
today was one of the most fun days of my whole life, Trixie has sent her. While she’s looking at their conversation, another text comes through. i’m so happy I found you.
Katya still only has one eye open. Her heart is molten and pouring down to pool in the pit of her stomach. She types awkwardly with one finger.
im happy i found u too u rotted skank bitch from hell
go to sleep now, mother
She chases her messages with a whole string of the heart emojis Trixie likes so much. She’s out just that quickly, before Trixie’s reply even comes through, and she sleeps better than she has in weeks.
Texting Trixie becomes a part of Katya’s day right away. She’s not usually big on messaging people, prefers to see them face to face or at least call if that isn’t an option, but she likes it. She likes feeling her phone buzz and seeing the notification and thinking of Trixie.
Sometimes it’s intermittent. They’re both busy, and on separate schedules. Katya wakes up in the mornings to a bunch of messages from Trixie detailing how the show went that night, and she replies for Trixie to see when she wakes up in four or five hours. They call and FaceTime too, but it’s harder to make time for that.
Katya is sitting at the tiny dining table she has crammed in next to the window, working on a bowl of cereal and trying hard to ignore her phone. She’s taught two classes already this morning, back to back early ones, and she’s starving.
good morning baby
She hasn’t sent anything else yet, because she wants to really talk to Trixie. Katya stirs her spoon around and around in her mostly empty bowl. She has her chin propped in her other hand and she gazes out of the window, watches a man across the street setting up to paint a storefront.
Two weeks today, since she met Trixie. It feels like forever ago, and like Trixie was here just last night. She worries at her phone, pulls the case off the corner and back on over and over, and wonders whether Trixie is awake.
She isn’t, Katya is pretty sure. She thinks a lot about waking up and rolling over to look at Trixie, the awe in her voice when she told Katya how good it was to watch her sleep. She can usually pinpoint the exact moment Trixie wakes up because she gets a little flare of awareness in her chest and then less than a minute later her phone vibrates with a new text.
Katya has a Russian class to teach tonight. She busies herself with her lesson plan. This despondent version of her that spends all day squirming around the hook in her guts is someone she doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly like.
She likes Trixie. Likes her very much. But she has to go on with her life. She can’t sit around like it’s 1860 and she’s waiting for her lover to return to the homestead, even if the idea of putting on a prairie dress and sighing dramatically is extremely appealing.
Katya’s phone vibrates and she hurries over to it on the kitchen counter, props her forearms either side of it so she can lean down.
morning gorgeous, Trixie has sent. Heat rushes into her cheeks. Last week, Trixie requested that Katya send her a selfie because she wanted to set it as her phone wallpaper, and when she did Trixie had sent her about forty fire emojis in a row and told her she’s beautiful, a model, she looks like Linda Evangelista.
Katya watches the three dots flickering in the grey bubble and thinks about Trixie touching the screen of her own phone a few hundred miles away.
how’s your morning been??
Katya starts typing, and then thinks better of it. She calls Trixie instead, tries to stifle her grin against her palm when she picks up on the first ring.
“That bad?” Trixie says.
Katya taps the button to put Trixie on speaker. She likes this the best — having Trixie to talk to while she does things. ���No. It’s been good actually. How are you?”
“I’ve been awake for about four seconds. Please don’t grill me during this very difficult time.”
“Sorry honey,” Katya laughs. She starts running water to fill the sink; there’s a few days’ worth of dishes piled up that she should really take care of.
Trixie is still talking, telling Katya about the show last night and how amazing the crowd had been. She sounds like she’s laying down still, her voice all soft and breathy. Katya aches to know for sure, to lie next to Trixie in the mornings and see her all sleep-rumpled and cute.
“Stop it, Katya,” Trixie says gently. “I can feel you making yourself sad. Only two more weeks of tour. We can do it.”
Katya is up to her elbows in suds, fumbling gracelessly with her plates and bowls because she can never figure out why her dish soap makes everything so slippery.
“I don’t want to do it.” She says it like it’s a secret, even though she doesn’t really have those from Trixie. “I miss you.”
She does. She misses Trixie so much that it hurts, which makes no sense. They had a day and a half together, that’s all. Last week Katya called Brooke at three in the morning (which is only two in Nashville, so whatever) to ask whether it ever stops being like this.
Brooke said that she and Vanessa have only spent at most three days apart in a row since they met. That when they first met, when it was new, they were not out of each other’s company for more than an hour at a time for weeks and weeks.
It wasn’t particularly helpful.
“I know, babe. I miss you too. But I’ve been trying to think of it like this: I get to have you with me always. Tons of couples do long distance and have to snatch moments wherever they can, but I get to feel you every minute of the day.”
Katya is standing still as a river stone, Trixie’s words sliding smoothly around and over her. Her ears are ringing. She swallows roughly once, and then a second time.
“Couples?” she finally manages to grit out.
“Oh God. Oh my God.”
Trixie sounds more like she’s talking to herself than to Katya, and it’s that that breaks her open. She laughs, too loud in her small apartment, and pulls her hands out of the sink. Katya dries them and takes her phone off of speaker so she can press it to her ear again. It feels more intimate; she likes to hear Trixie right there.
“Don’t freak out on me now, Trixie. You said it.”
She gets a long sigh, and she feels Trixie’s trembling shock at her own self. “Yeah. I did. I want to be a couple. With you. You awful crone.”
“I want to be a couple with you, too. God knows why; you’re so mean to me.”
It makes Trixie laugh, and Katya is laughing too, and it doesn’t ache quite so terribly anymore. This is a temporary predicament, and she still gets to talk to Trixie all the time, and it’s going to be okay.
“Katya,” Trixie says, right as a wave of longing crests up from the pit of Katya’s stomach into her throat. “I wish I was there. I wanna touch you so bad.”
“Yeah. Me too. Listen, I uh- I gotta go. I’ll catch you later. Bye.” She hangs up before Trixie can protest and bows over the counter, head in her hands.
A couple of times when they’ve talked on the phone, Trixie has done this. All of the breath support comes out of her voice. She talks about want, and Katya hears rustling on the other end of the line and has to close her eyes.
It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk Trixie off. Of course she does. But not for their first time. It’s romantic, which is not like her, but something about Trixie makes Katya want to be chivalrous.
She tries to busy herself cleaning the kitchen, but her thighs are trembling and there’s an ache between them that she’s struggling to ignore. It starts ramping up and Katya closes her eyes and breathes raggedly through her mouth.
And then it dawns on her.
Katya fumbles for her phone and types quickly, doesn’t give herself the time to think over whether this is a good decision.
beatrice mattel!!!!!
i know what ur doing
can u pls not im trying to live my life
Her nipples are hard and rubbing uncomfortably against the fabric of her sports bra. Katya runs the faucet until it’s as cold as it’s going to get and pours herself a glass of water, downs two thirds of it in one go. It doesn’t help very much. Her knees buckle and she crashes against the cabinet, almost goes to the floor.
Katya reaches for her phone again. For a second she debates calling, forcing Trixie to respond, but she can’t listen to her while she’s like this.
trixie. please. dont.
Part of the reason she doesn’t enjoy texting so much is because she finds it hard to convey tone. Trixie teases her a lot about being older, but this is one area where she really feels it. Trixie wields punctuation and capitalisation and emojis like weapons to make clear just exactly what she means.
Katya still feels desperate and fragile, but the edge of it comes away and her phone vibrates.
sorry
didn’t mean to upset you
won’t happen again
She sighs and balls her hand into a fist, presses her knuckles to her forehead. Trixie is a bit of a brat, she’s entitled and she takes exactly what she wants. And Katya loves it, wouldn’t want her any other way.
im not upset
im horny
you cunt
Part of her wants to go to her knees on the kitchen tile and stuff three fingers inside of herself. She’s so close; it wouldn’t take a lot. But it feels indecent and she doesn’t want her own hand. She wants Trixie’s.
i know
i did it on purpose
since you won’t talk dirty to me
Oh, but she will. She will, she wants to, she is going to. Katya is not in the business of saying untrue things, or of not saying things that are true. She thinks there’s an important distinction there. She takes a deep breath and taps out her message.
trixie
trixie
i cant stop thinking about kissing you
The response comes through immediately. Katya imagines Trixie typing with her left hand, wiping her right clean against the sheets. Imagines her chest all flushed and her pupils blown wide and her thighs trembling.
why didn’t you then?????
i wanted you to
i was waiting
For a second Katya is affronted that it’s her responsibility. Trixie could have kissed her just as easily. But then she supposes Trixie hasn’t ever had to do that before, hasn’t needed to make the first move because everyone around her seems to give her exactly what she wants at all times.
trixie oh my god
the second youre here
This time Katya can’t blame her arousal on Trixie. She feels like every single hair on her body is standing on end. She moves for the bedroom, stripping her bra off over her head as she goes and leaving it dumped in the hallway. Her phone buzzes in her hand.
yeah?
Katya puts it down for just a second so she can pull her yoga pants and her underwear off. She climbs onto the mattress on her knees and sinks down, grinds against the sheets.
She wants to touch herself; she doesn’t want to stop talking to Trixie; she can’t call her.
yeah
i wanna kiss you for hours and hours
She pauses for a second, but it’s not like Trixie doesn’t already know. There’s no mystery when Trixie’s arousal pulses hot and insistent between Katya’s thighs.
and then i wanna taste you
and touch you
and hear you
god, trixie
im gonna fuck you so good
Katya turns her phone over then and puts it on the nightstand out of her way. She lets her right hand drift between her legs. She’s so wet that it’s all down her thighs, and as soon as she brushes her fingers over herself her hips buck sharply.
She rolls her left nipple — it’s a little more sensitive — between two fingers, and sets a rhythm of tight little circles over her clit. Already pleasure is tingling up the column of her spine and all across her scalp. She’s embarrassingly close, considering all she’s been doing is texting.
But she’s been texting Trixie. And Trixie’s been touching herself, has brought both of them right up to the edge. Katya’s going to be the one to tip them over.
Their first time is still going to be special. This doesn’t count. They’re both touching themselves and thinking of each other and it’s the hottest fucking thing that has happened to Katya in her whole life.
Katya slides a finger inside of herself and clenches around it so violently that all of the breath leaves her chest like a gut punch. She adds another and then a third, her hips rocking wildly and without rhythm so that she barely has to move her hand at all.
The circles she’s making over her clit are getting faster, and she’s so wet she can hardly get enough friction. Katya bites down hard on her bottom lip and curls her fingers and comes hard. Finds herself whispering Trixie’s name as she does.
And then just as she’s coming down another wave hits her and she realises. That was Trixie.
Katya flops onto her back on the mattress and throws an arm over her face. She feels more blissed out than she has in months, maybe years. Since she got sober. She laughs out loud into her empty apartment, and then her phone starts ringing.
“Did you just-?” Trixie says in lieu of hello.
“I sure did, mama. You?”
There’s a beat of silence and Katya imagines Trixie arching lazily in her hotel sheets. Not that she’s ever seen that. They’ve never even kissed, for God’s sake.
“Yeah. It was- really good.” Trixie’s voice is living room quiet, middle of the night tender.
Katya’s breathing is still a little faster than normal. It’s the middle of the day, which is indulgent and unusual for her. For Trixie this probably counts as morning sex.
Or, well- does it count as sex? If this were a normal situation, Katya would say not. But when she was touching herself she was thinking about making Trixie feel good, wondering whether Trixie could feel everything with the same intensity. Katya is fuzzy-skinned and plump like an overripe peach.
“If you’re gonna do that again, I need some warning. Can’t have you jerking off while I’m trying to teach a class.”
The laugh Trixie lets out at that is loud and long and caterwauling. It makes Katya laugh too and she rolls over onto her stomach, phone still held to her ear and getting a little sweaty now.
“I have to ask your permission to come now? What are you, my dad?”
Katya groans and hides her face in the pillow, but she’s already pretty desensitised to Trixie’s off-colour humour. Other parts of her are not so desensitised and she rolls her hips down into the mattress.
“You slut,” Trixie gasps right into her ear. “You’re not done?”
“I hate you so much.”
She can hear Trixie’s grin, the way her words arc around it. “Yeah. Hate you too. Can’t wait for you to sit on my face.”
“Fuck,” Katya says, and hangs up on Trixie again.
Her wrist hurts from the awkward angle she’s at but she’s close enough already, again, that it doesn’t matter. Katya rolls her hips down against her fingers and wishes Trixie were here. She wants to put her face between Trixie’s thighs, wants to feel her heels dig into her back. The thought of it is enough and she comes open-mouthed and silent, Trixie’s name caught in the back of her throat.
After that, things are different.
Trixie gets braver and brattier. She likes to tease, a lot. Sometimes Katya reciprocates, but mostly she shuts Trixie down. She always gets into a snit over it and refuses to text back even though Katya can feel how much Trixie misses her when they go more than an hour without talking.
There are four days left of Trixie’s tour. Four days until she’s back in Los Angeles. She has a lot to take care of once she’s home, so she told Katya she won’t be able to make it out to Boston for another few weeks.
That’s fine. It’s fine, because Katya got Trixie’s roommate’s phone number from Fame, and she’s going to LA.
The Russian class she teaches is on summer break now, and she’s taken a week of the vacation days she never usually uses from the yoga studio. She’s going to be there, when Trixie steps off her plane, and then they’re going to spend a whole week together.
It is an enormous effort not to think about it too much. If she gets excited, or anxious, Trixie is going to know and she’s not going to drop it. Katya has texted Kim a few times to arrange things. They’ve talked on the phone once and she had to sit on the floor in padmasana and breathe slowly through her nose and focus on absolute stillness so she didn’t clue Trixie in.
The night before Katya leaves for Los Angeles, she sits on the sill so that she can smoke out of the open window. It’s so hot in Boston that she’s only wearing her underwear. She’s got Spotify pulled up and her speaker playing from the kitchen, everything Trixie’s ever uploaded.
She’s performing right now. Katya closes her eyes and leans her head back against the wall. She thinks a lot about the first time she saw Trixie perform. If she was a little smarter she would have realised before they met that Trixie was her sestrinskoye serdste, because she suffered so badly watching Trixie get her life up on the stage.
Now, it’s like being high. She gets to feel Trixie’s euphoria, her pride in herself, the joy that buoys her to bounce around all over the place while she performs. It does worry her a little. She’s an addict; she can’t really be trusted with things that feel this good.
Sweat is collecting in all of Katya’s creases, her elbows and the backs of her knees, but she doesn’t want to move. This is the time that she feels the closest to Trixie. And she is so achingly proud of her she can hardly stand it. Tomorrow she will fly across the country. Trixie isn’t back until the day after, so Katya has an evening to acclimate to Trixie’s space and hope that she gets along okay with Kim.
It feels as though she’s been waiting all of her life, because she has. Only, these last few weeks have been different. They talk all day long, their hearts are full up with each other almost every moment. While she has been waiting, Trixie has been with her.
Flying is not her favourite thing, but Katya has both of Trixie’s EPs saved to her phone and she plays them on a loop for the whole six hours. She closes her eyes and thinks about Trixie, about how she’ll get to touch her tomorrow. Kim has promised to keep Trixie as distracted as possible today so that she won’t notice Katya has disappeared off the earth for a handful of hours. She’s going to manufacture a crisis, apparently.
Kim is a good friend who loves Trixie very dearly and is thrilled that she’s found Katya. She knows that Trixie is soulbound now, apparently, and Katya wonders who else Trixie has told but is too afraid to ask.
She answers the door and lets Katya in to the apartment. Her makeup is kind of similar to Trixie’s, looks like it must take hours and hours to do in the mornings. She’s tall and her hair is lilac and Katya is immediately obsessed with her.
“That’s Trixie’s room.” Kim gestures to a closed door off the living room. “Make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever. She’s going to absolutely lose it.”
Katya drags her suitcase into Trixie’s bedroom and leaves it just inside the doorway while she takes the space in. The walls are a soft pink like the inside of a shell. Trixie’s bed is in the middle of the room beneath the window, made neatly with white sheets. There are plants on almost every surface, fairy lights strung up along the bookshelf.
It’s clean, and beautiful, and so Trixie that Katya has to sit down in the white chair at Trixie’s vanity table. She has a blanket folded over the back of it that looks handmade, and Katya brushes her fingers over the wool.
Kim pokes her head around the doorframe. “I’m making tea, if you want some?”
“Sure, thanks. Whatever you’re having sounds good.”
“It’s so like her in here, isn’t it,” Kim says. She’s got this soft little smile on her face and Katya realises for the first time that she’s not the only one missing Trixie.
There are lots and lots of people in her life. People Katya doesn’t know, has no idea even exist. She’d like to meet them, like to hold Trixie’s hand and be introduced to them all as her girlfriend. She’s been calling her that inside her head, but hasn’t yet been brave enough to say it out loud.
It turns out that Kim is great. She’s got a sharp sense of humour that is so much like Trixie’s. They make sense, the two of them. Katya gets to hear stories about what Trixie is like to live with, what she was like in college.
She knows, sort of, because she felt her every single day. It’s nice to attach some anecdotes to the emotions. While Trixie’s been away, each day Katya has chosen a random excerpt from her journals to share with her. It’s like a horoscope, but it’s a recollection and not a prediction. Sometimes Trixie has remembered the events vividly and shared them with Katya, and other times she’s had no idea what was happening.
Katya sleeps in Trixie’s bed. It doesn’t smell too strongly of her, because she’s been away from it for nearly six weeks. Tomorrow night though, she’s going to sleep in this bed with Trixie right beside her.
Her flight gets in pretty early in the morning, which means she’s definitely going to be grumpy. Katya puts on one of her favourite dresses, a long-sleeved black one with floral embroidery. At the airport she gets a chai latte for Trixie and a black coffee for herself and she stands at arrivals, watching everybody pouring out.
The way the airport is set up, with glass all along the hallway, means that she can see Trixie quite easily. She’s coming up the ramp, dragging her pink suitcase behind her. She isn’t looking where she’s going; she’s got her phone in her free hand and she’s typing rapidly with her thumb.
Katya’s phone buzzes insistently in her hand over and over and she unlocks it, opens her messaging app.
babe
tell me not to turn around and get on a plane to boston
that’s a dumb idea, right?
Katya grins and darts a glance at Trixie. She’s almost at the exit now but she still hasn’t looked up from her phone. Even coming off a flight she’s so beautiful, her hair in two braids down her back and little pieces curling around her face.
its a very dumb idea, yeah
because im not in boston
Trixie’s head snaps up at that. She picks Katya out of the crowd right away and when their eyes meet she stumbles, the rhythm of her stride knocked off balance. Katya feels Trixie’s shock hit her and has to take a steadying breath, but the rush of joy that immediately follows is so good it makes her lightheaded. Trixie smiles so big and then ducks her head like she’s shy.
When she reaches Katya she barrels into her and wraps her arms tight around her shoulders. Katya brings a hand up to cradle the back of her head.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she laughs, and Trixie makes a small, strangled noise.
“What are you- how did you get here? Holy shit. Katya.”
Trixie untangles herself from around Katya but doesn’t go far, captures her face between her palms. Her own face is slack with awe so that she’s not even smiling, but Katya is, can’t seem to stop.
“You should tell your roommate not to let strangers into your apartment while you’re out of town.”
“I missed your first time meeting Kim?” Trixie pouts.
Her hands are still on Katya’s face and she seems to remember that quite suddenly. Her thumb comes to Katya’s bottom lip and drags it down experimentally (she sends a silent prayer of thanks up to the gods of liquid lipstick).
Katya sucks in a breath. This is her last ever first kiss. She wants it to be right. Eyes closed, she waits to feel Trixie’s mouth on hers. Instead, their foreheads meet, and when Katya opens her eyes again Trixie’s looking down at her like she’s drowning.
“I wanna kiss you so bad,” she says, and her voice is all punched out and breathy like she already has. “God. I want you so much.”
Katya lifts her chin a little and lets her hands settle at Trixie’s waist. Go ahead.
“But once I start, I’m not gonna be able to stop. And I don’t wanna do it here.”
That’s a very fair assessment. Katya laughs to break the tension and hands Trixie her chai, takes her suitcase from her so she can focus on drinking it.
“Come on, honey. Let me take you home.”
They sit on opposite sides of the car in the Uber to Trixie’s apartment, leaving their hands on the middle seat. Trixie strokes her fingers across the back of Katya’s hand, kneads her knuckles into the meat of Katya’s palm. Trixie’s hands are the most tender part of her, Katya thinks. Not her heart. Trixie’s heart is strong and sure.
Kim has made herself conspicuously absent from the apartment, left a note to tell them that she’ll be back in the morning and to please at least disinfect the surfaces when they’re finished.
While Trixie freshens up from her flight, Katya runs through a very quick flow for calm and inner stability. She’s nervous, which is ridiculous, but Trixie makes her feel like a teenager. When she comes out of the bathroom Katya is on the couch, scrolling blindly through Twitter so that she doesn’t look like she’s just sitting waiting for Trixie.
“Hi,” Katya says, and intimacy colours her voice so it sounds like come here.
Trixie does. It doesn’t surprise Katya at all when she sinks down right into her lap, knees bracketing Katya’s hips and her thick thighs framing Katya’s slender ones.
She’s got her hands braced against the back of the couch either side of Katya’s head like she doesn’t trust herself not to ravage her immediately.
“I’ve thought about this every moment of every day since I met you,” Trixie says.
She’s doing a really good job of sounding confident, but Katya feels her uncertainty just as intensely as she feels her own.
“I have too,” Katya confesses. She reaches up to touch Trixie, the soft skin of her cheek. “God. You’re so beautiful.”
“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Trixie says. Her voice is so quiet, gentle like she gets when Katya’s anxiety is bad and she’s doing her best to soothe her. “If that’s alright.”
When Trixie leans in and closes the distance between them, Katya can hardly breathe around the swell of her heart in her throat. Trixie’s lips are soft and she tastes like mint, must have just brushed her teeth. Katya’s ready for Trixie to deepen things right away but she doesn’t, kisses Katya soft and slow. It feels so good, and she feels how good it is for Trixie too and it’s almost too much. She finds herself balling her hands tightly into fists and then flexing her fingers again, over and over at Trixie’s hips.
“You can touch me,” Trixie says against Katya’s mouth. “I want you to touch me.”
She splays her hands wide at Trixie’s ass and uses that grip to haul her in close. Trixie’s hips rock down sharply against Katya’s and she can feel the heat of her already. Trixie’s hands are in Katya’s hair and she tugs experimentally right at her scalp. Katya gasps into Trixie’s mouth and presses her legs together, can’t quite hold back the low groan that rumbles out of her.
“Really?” Trixie grins down at her. “Huh. I thought you were the top.”
Even after only four weeks, even though this is their first time doing this, Katya knows how much Trixie enjoys making her flustered. She likes to hear Katya strung out and desperate. It makes sense that she’d want to see her that way too, beneath her on the couch.
“I brought a strap, you fucking bitch,” Katya says, and gets her hand up beneath Trixie’s dress to brush against her.
It makes her stop laughing immediately, makes her fall forwards and let out an utterly obscene whine right against Katya’s ear. She rocks against Katya’s fingers, already soaked through her underwear.
Touching Trixie feels so good, and she can feel how good Trixie feels to be touched at the same time, and it’s the hottest and most intense thing she’s ever experienced.
She pushes the fabric of Trixie’s underwear out of the way so she can get her fingers against the slick heat of her. When Katya touches Trixie’s clit she yelps and a shudder rips through her entire body.
“You brought a- a dildo through TSA?” Her voice is coming in short bursts now and she’s panting already, her breath hot at Katya’s neck.
“No,” Katya snorts. “Just my harness. Figured you probably have your favourites.”
Trixie clenches around nothing at that, Katya feels it both where her fingers are and between her own legs. She’s still making lazy circles against Trixie’s clit and she picks up the pace a little bit.
“Oh, fuck, Katya,” Trixie says when she slides one finger into her.
“Yeah, baby. Working on it.”
Trixie likes to talk, is a chronic interrupter. It’s not at all surprising that she talks constantly while Katya fucks her. She adds another finger pretty much right away, because Trixie is so wet and desperate that there’s no resistance at all.
“God. Fuck. You feel so good. Did you-” Katya curls her fingers and Trixie growls in the back of her throat. “Did you know it would be this good?”
Katya has her open mouth against Trixie’s neck and she lets her teeth graze very lightly against the smooth skin there, lets the tip of her tongue just dart out to touch.
“I didn’t know. But I hoped.”
Trixie bites Katya’s clavicle. “More, Katya, please. I need more. I need you to fill me.”
She obliges, adds a third finger that makes Trixie cry out. Katya is barely even moving, just letting Trixie ride her hand and grind against her palm. They’re both still fully clothed.
When Trixie comes she’s silent, which is interesting. They’ve touched themselves together a few times, so Katya knows what it feels like when Trixie comes, but it’s different having her right here in her lap. She works her through it, fucks her with three fingers until she’s trembling and collapsed against Katya’s chest.
As soon as she gets her breath back, Trixie climbs off of Katya’s lap and goes to the floor. She kneels in front of the couch and wraps her hands around the backs of Katya’s thighs, hauls her to the edge of the cushion. Trixie shoves the skirt of Katya’s dress up out of her way and pulls her underwear off, tosses them aside somewhere behind herself.
The anticipation is driving Katya nuts. She can feel Trixie’s warm breath so close to where she needs her, and she can feel how badly Trixie wants her. Trixie lays her cheek against the inside of Katya’s thigh and blinks up at her.
“I’ve thought about this so much. Your thighs. How much I’ve been wanting to be between them. I wanna eat you out every day for the rest of my life.”
Katya’s hips lift at that, chasing Trixie’s mouth. She decides to play nice, for once, and licks Katya slowly. It’s so good. Katya pulls her dress up over her head. She’s not wearing a bra and she pinches and rolls her nipples, stares down at Trixie between her legs. Katya grinds against Trixie’s face, chases the coiling tension in the pit of her stomach.
Trixie slides two fingers into her at once and sucks hard on her clit and that’s all it takes, she comes with a little shout and arches off the couch cushion.
Still on the floor, Trixie smiles sweetly up at her. “I want you to fuck me. Properly. I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”
“Sure, honey.” Katya sits up and leans forwards, takes Trixie’s face in both hands so she can kiss her. She smoothes her thumb over Trixie’s eyebrow. “Since you’ve been such a good girl, we can do that. Go pick out something nice. I’ll be right there.”
She makes herself wait much longer than she’d like. Katya likes to top, she likes the control that it gives her and it makes her feel good to be wanted so badly. She just needs a minute to get into the right headspace. She pours herself a glass of water from the Brita in the refrigerator and drinks it slowly.
In the bedroom, Trixie is lying on her front in the middle of the bed. There’s a dildo next to her on the sheets, pink and thinner than Katya would have expected. She rummages in her suitcase for the ring harness and steps into it, glad Trixie is face down and doesn’t get to see this part. Once everything is in place Katya gives an experimental tug on her dick to make sure it’s secure.
Trixie is whining very quietly and her hips are rocking back and forth, but she doesn’t turn her head, doesn’t look at Katya. Between her own thighs, Katya feels how desperately Trixie needs her right now.
She puts a knee on the mattress and Trixie keens when her body dips towards it. Katya nudges Trixie’s legs apart and settles between them, drapes herself over Trixie’s back. She kisses Trixie’s shoulder, open-mouthed, and lets her dick slide against the crease of Trixie’s ass.
“Good girl, Trixie. You’re so patient. Are you ready, baby?”
Trixie nods. She’s got her face squashed against the pillows so Katya can’t see much more than the curve of her cheek and her delicate ear. She wraps one hand around her dick and guides herself into Trixie.
For the very first time, Katya realises what it must be like to have an actual dick. As she pushes inside of Trixie she feels it, feels the stretch and how good it is to be filled. Trixie angles her hips up and back and Katya pulls out just a little, fucks into her hard again.
“Oh, Trixie, that’s- wow,” she says into the back of Trixie’s head, and gets a little keening noise of agreement.
Katya sets a steady rhythm, fucks Trixie hard and reaches around underneath their bodies to rub at her clit. She can feel exactly how much Trixie can take, knows just how hard she can push it. Sweat beads at her hairline and slides down towards her ears.
“Wait, wait, stop,” Trixie says.
Her hips still immediately and she supports her body weight on her elbows. She doesn’t think she hurt Trixie. She’d have felt it, surely, and it doesn’t feel like Trixie’s upset.
“I wanna see you. I wanna kiss you.”
Katya pulls out and gives Trixie room to roll onto her back beneath her. She pushes back in immediately, because it feels so fucking good to be inside of Trixie and she wants to stay there forever.
The snap of Katya’s hips against Trixie’s does not at all match the leisurely way that she kisses her. She licks into Trixie’s mouth, bites her bottom lip and sucks on it to soothe her.
“Oh, yes, right there,” Trixie gasps when Katya shifts the angle of her hips. “Don’t stop, Katya. Don’t stop.”
When Trixie comes she closes her eyes and tips her head back and clutches at Katya’s shoulders, one leg up around her waist and the heel of her foot digging into Katya’s ass.
After they’ve both used the bathroom and Katya’s taken the harness off and gotten each of them a glass of water, she joins Trixie in bed. Trixie tucks herself under Katya’s arm and traces lazy, concentric circles over her stomach with the tip of her finger.
“Ever let anybody rail you on the first date, before?”
“Only my uncle,” Trixie says, and then screams a laugh at herself. “But this wasn’t our first date.”
It wasn’t. She’s right. Katya kisses Trixie’s forehead because she can, because Trixie’s right there and she’s been thinking about it for a month.
“I’m so happy you’re here. I can’t believe that you’re here.”
“It’s okay?” Katya asks quietly. Part of her has been worried that Trixie is going to be mad, isn’t going to want Katya in her space.
Trixie props herself up on one elbow so she can look down at Katya. She has an adorable little crease between her eyebrows and she studies Katya for a long time.
“When you’re not near me,” Trixie starts, and touches the tips of two fingers to Katya’s chin. “It is a physical ache. I don’t ever wanna do that again. I don’t ever wanna be away from you for that long again.”
They spend almost the entire week together and settle quickly into a routine. Katya wakes up early in the mornings and does yoga in the living room, smokes a cigarette on Trixie’s tiny balcony while she waits for the kettle to boil. She comes back to bed with tea for them both and gets to wake Trixie. Every morning, when Trixie opens her eyes to look at her, Katya feels a little surge of joy right in the centre of her chest. She likes being the first thing Trixie sees each day.
Today is her last day in Los Angeles. They’ve gotten to walk around holding hands in the daylight. They’ve hiked and gone to the movies and gotten ice cream; they’ve fucked like every time is their last. Katya finds that she likes LA, even though it’s even more disgustingly hot than Boston.
She could see herself here.
Trixie is still sleeping and Katya leaves her tea on the nightstand in case she wakes up, goes back out onto the balcony with her phone in her hand. She dials, listens to it ring twice before it connects.
“Katenka?”
“Da, Mama. Privet.” Now that she’s older, and less stubborn, Katya speaks mostly in Russian to her parents. She doesn’t want to lose it, and now that she’s not living with Sasha anymore it’s good to practice.
Katya leans against the railing and holds her phone to her ear, only half listening. Her mother likes to begin every conversation by catching Katya up with all of the neighbourhood gossip. Half of these people she hasn’t seen for fifteen years, but she offers her mother a little assent every now and then anyway.
“Listen, Mama,” she says when there’s a break in the conversation. “I found them.”
“Your sestrinskoye serdste?” her mother gasps.
They’ve been worrying. Papa doesn’t show it, but Mama often frets that Katya is approaching forty and maybe she should forget about being soulbound and just settle down with someone. She knows that they’re afraid they’re going to die without seeing their daughter married off. But now there’s Trixie.
“Da. Her name is Trixie. She’s a musician. She lives in California. I’m at her apartment right now.” She pauses to give her mother time to digest all of that and then she says, softer, “I really like her, Mama.”
“Oh, Katenka, sweetheart. That’s wonderful. I’m so glad. Can we meet her?”
She thinks about that, about bringing Trixie home to her family. She knows that Trixie’s relationship with her own family is strained, thinks about her mother hugging Trixie hello and bringing her into the kitchen, trying to fatten her up. “Soon, Mama. I promise.”
The sliding door to the balcony makes a screeching noise when it’s pushed open further, and then Katya feels the warmth of Trixie right behind her. She wraps both arms around Katya and draws her back against her chest, kisses her cheek.
“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. I love you,” Katya says, and hangs up the call.
She turns in the circle of Trixie’s arms and leans in to kiss her good morning. Trixie is responsive, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against Katya’s. When they break apart her cheeks are flushed.
“That your mom?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re so fucking sexy when you speak Russian.”
It makes Katya laugh and Trixie grins too, pleased with herself. Her hair is a little rumpled and Katya smoothes it down for her, leaves a little kiss at the end of her nose.
“She wants to meet you. She’s very excited that I found my sestrinskoye serdste.”
“I still can’t believe you call it that.”
Katya lifts both eyebrows and leans back a little against the grip of Trixie’s arms. “What do you call it?”
“A soulmate. Because I’m not a pretentious asshole.”
She swats at Trixie, pouts at her, but she knows Trixie can feel that she’s not offended. Quite the opposite. Every single thing Trixie does endears her hopelessly to Katya. They make out lazily on the balcony for a little while, neither of them caring that the whole world can see. Katya still remembers the way Trixie looked down at her and said she never wants them to be apart. It makes her brave.
“Hey, Trixie?”
“Mm,” Trixie hums, and kisses her again.
Katya takes a small step back, her ass hitting the railing, so she can see Trixie properly. “What do you think about me moving out here? I could get a really tiny, really shitty apartment and teach yoga.”
“No,” Trixie says. It doesn’t match up with the joy that has come to life in her chest, the joy that is pouring slowly through Katya as well like longing made liquid.
“No?”
Trixie shakes her head, says it again. “No. No tiny apartment. Move in with me.”
For a long moment Katya can only stare at her, slack-jawed. She thinks about it. She’s always been a solitary creature, afraid of commitment, afraid of intimacy. But then, isn’t that because all this time she’s been waiting for Trixie? It doesn’t scare her. Not like it used to. She still hasn’t said anything, and she knows it’s freaking Trixie out but she can’t make her brain work.
“Katya. I know this is insane. I know we’ve only known each other for like a month and a half. But- I’m in love with you. I love you.”
She remembers the very first time Trixie felt it. They had been in the kitchen, Katya cleaning the dishes from the dinner Trixie had cooked for them. Trixie had been sitting on the countertop, swinging her bare legs and occasionally poking Katya in the side with her toes.
“Why don’t you go run yourself a bath? I got you a new bubble bar while you had your meeting, today,” Katya had said. A rush of clear and brilliant adoration had washed through Trixie and she had gaped at Katya for a second before kissing her, with more tongue than she anticipated.
She remembers finding it funny that Trixie had only just then realised. Katya’s known it from the very start. It’s been a fact of her life: her name is Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova, she is an addict, she is in love with her sestrinskoye serdste.
“Oh, Trixie, baby,” she says on a bubble of wet laughter, has to close her eyes so she doesn’t cry. “I’ve loved you for your whole life.”
They’re both crying then, and laughing, and clutching at each other. Kim pokes her head around the doorframe to look at them.
“What are you two lesbians doing?”
“Kimberly,” Trixie says like she’s thrilled to see her. “Is it cool if Katya moves in here?”
Kim snorts. “Is she gonna contribute to the rent?”
“I sure will. And the chores. I’ll be a very good roommate.”
Trixie’s hand is inside the waistband of Katya’s yoga pants and she tugs them away from her skin to let cool air inside. It’s very distracting, makes Katya shiver. She reaches around behind herself and circles Trixie’s wrist in her fingers to keep her still.
Kim is watching them, a look of disgust on her face, but then she grins. “Then yes. It’s cool. It’ll be nice to have someone else to share the burden of living with Trixie.”
“Wow, fuck you too,” she says, but she’s smiling still.
Suddenly the prospect of leaving tomorrow doesn’t seem so awful. They spend the afternoon at the beach. Trixie’s wearing a pink coverup and a huge hat and she sits neatly on her towel and reads, occasionally looking up at Katya over top of her sunglasses.
Katya wades into the ocean. A small child is watching her from a few feet away, staring at her tattoos. She smiles at them, allows them to touch her skin when they come closer. She’s got her hair tied up on top of her head in a scrunchie so they’re all on show, even the one between her shoulder blades that isn’t visible very often.
Once the child’s parent comes to collect them, Katya walks a little deeper until the water laps at her waist. From here Trixie looks like a vintage drawing, like a 50’s pin up girl. She’s got the front of her hair pinned in curls around her face to complete the fantasy.
The water is cool and lovely but Katya still feels hot. She put on sunscreen, mostly because she wanted Trixie to rub it into her back and then she got to rub Trixie’s back too. It’s difficult to cool off when Trixie insists on lying out like a lizard, but she doesn’t mind really.
They’re going to get to do this forever. The thought makes her smile, and suddenly she needs to be close to Trixie. She starts making her way to shore, the water dragging at her thighs and calves so she can’t move as quickly as she wants to.
When she reaches Trixie, Katya kneels down beside her. She keeps her in place with one hand at her thigh and leans in beneath the brim of her ridiculous hat. She kisses her, lets herself linger because this part of the beach isn’t too crowded.
“Hi, beautiful,” she says when they separate. “I missed you.”
“You were twenty feet away,” Trixie says, but she knocks her forehead against Katya’s and then steals another kiss from her.
Katya unrolls her own towel and stretches out next to Trixie on the sand. She doesn’t have the attention span for sunbathing usually, but lying here watching Trixie she has plenty to keep her occupied.
After a while Trixie sets her book down and pulls a notebook and a pink pen out of her bag. She’s working on a new song; Katya’s spent the last few nights lying with her head pillowed on Trixie’s thighs and feeling the reverberation of the guitar through her skull.
She likes to watch Trixie work, see her chewing on her bottom lip and sighing every now and then. Sometimes she will hum the melody very softly so that Katya almost thinks she’s imagined it.
They leave the beach when Trixie gets hungry and get dinner at her favourite vegan burger place. They have fries to share and Trixie lets Katya feed them to her across the table. She’s sad, and trying not to be, because she doesn’t want to make Trixie sad as well.
“How long do you think it’ll be. Before you can move here?”
Katya chews and swallows her food because she knows Trixie hates it when she talks with her mouth full. There’s a little streak of sunscreen on the tip of her nose from when she reapplied before they ate that Katya can’t stop looking at. She feels good, warm and loose-limbed and sitting out on the patio with the woman she loves beyond her capacity to love.
“M’not sure. I’ll have to give notice on my apartment, and at work. Break it to my parents. Pack everything up. Hire movers, I guess?”
Her chest gets tight. There’s so much to be done. She’s really going to uproot her whole life for somebody she’s known not even two months. It’s insane, and she’s definitely going to be scolded by her family and her friends and colleagues.
And then Trixie reaches across the table and takes her hand. Her skin is so soft. Katya knows now that it’s because she moisturises religiously, has been allowed to work Trixie’s expensive lotions into her legs for her at night.
“You don’t have to do this. If it’s too much.”
“It’s a lot,” she agrees. “But honey, you’re the only person that I want to be with, every single day.”
That makes Trixie blush and Katya feels her squirming pleasure, remembers too late that when she knocks the breath out of Trixie like this she has to deal with her own lungs caving in too.
“I love you so much. I’m so excited.”
Yeah. She is too.
* * *
Katya packs up her entire life in five neatly labelled cardboard boxes. They hire a truck and make an adventure of it, her and Fame. She says she wants to visit LA anyway, now that summer is rolling lazily over into fall and she can bear the heat a little better.
People have been a lot more accepting than Katya anticipated. Her mama had cried when she told her she was moving, but had insisted it was out of joy that she finally found Trixie. Most people, when she tells them she found her sestrinskoye serdste and she’s a tall, blonde country singer, are thrilled for her.
There are a lot of yoga studios in Los Angeles. Katya finds a job easily and finds that she loves it. It’s winter and she doesn’t need a coat or three layers of thermals. She likes the sunshine and she likes the beach and she likes Trixie most of all.
It’s a Wednesday afternoon a week before Christmas. The apartment is decorated, and Kim and Trixie even let Katya hang some of her ornaments on their tree. There are little plastic babies and eyeballs and hands and the two of them are gracious enough to pretend they don’t think she’s a lunatic.
Katya hears footsteps thundering up the stairs and the clutch of excitement in her chest, suddenly. The door opens and Trixie comes hurtling into the apartment, goes straight for the kitchen. She turns on the radio and fiddles with the knobs, grabs blindly for Katya’s hand when she comes to stand beside her.
“Are you okay, honey?”
“Shhh. Listen.”
Trixie turns up the volume and the two of them stand hand in hand in their kitchen and listen to the radio announcer, introducing newcomer Trixie Mattel! and the lead single from her new Christmas album.
“They’re playing it!” Trixie yells, and throws her arms around Katya.
She can feel the wide arc of Trixie’s grin against her neck. “Oh my God, baby, I’m so proud of you.”
Trixie’s phone is vibrating frantically with messages from just about everyone she’s ever met in her life. She turns it over and dumps it on the counter, holds Katya in place with both hands at her shoulders.
“They’re playing it,” she says again, on a whisper this time, and shakes her head like she can’t quite believe it.
Once her song finishes she shuts the radio off and they stand in the silence together. Trixie is shaking, her lashes are wet and sticking together and she’s staring open-mouthed at Katya.
It would be difficult for her to put words to how she’s feeling right now. But that’s alright, because Katya feels everything too just as fiercely. And she knows that Trixie knows how proud she is, so she doesn’t have to embarrass herself by trying to say it out loud.
After that, everything happens quickly. She knows it doesn’t work that way, that Trixie has been trying for years and years to break into the mainstream. That the radio calling her a newcomer just reinforces the idea that things fall magically into her lap, when really Katya knows how much she has to fight for everything she wants. But it seems like one minute they’re sharing their tiny two bed with Kim and the next, they’re shopping for houses.
Trixie is very particular about it, which comes as a surprise to absolutely no one. They’re looking for a fixer upper, partly because the royalty checks Trixie gets in the mail aren’t quite that fat yet, and partly because Trixie wants everything to be just to her taste.
Their taste, she keeps insisting, but Katya doesn’t care as long as there’s a space for her practice and Trixie lets her hang some of her favourite drawings. Katya likes the idea of doing things herself, of making their home pretty for her girlfriend, and has taken to spending hours in the evenings on her laptop in bed next to Trixie researching how to plumb a toilet or demolish a soffit.
She wears her glasses, because she’s thirty eight years old, and because she knows it makes Trixie hot for her. She gets an hour at most before Trixie takes the laptop from her and climbs into her lap and kisses her deep and slow.
Everything is feeling very adult, all of a sudden. She has a job and a girlfriend that she’s buying a house with and suddenly the future isn’t so intangible. She’s planning for it, letting herself think about five or ten years from now.
This year, in September, she will have been sober for five years. There are days it hardly crosses her mind, and days she can’t focus on anything else at all, but those are a lot more rare now. If Trixie comes home from the studio or meetings or a television performance and finds Katya on the bathroom floor with all of the lights out in the apartment, it doesn’t take her by surprise because she feels Katya’s fear. And because of that, she knows to wrap both arms around her and sit in the silence until she comes back to herself.
Most days are good days. It helps, that her reason for staying sober is no longer just for her own sake. She was always terribly selfish, because all addicts are, and she likes that Trixie has made her selfless.
“What’s this one?” Katya calls out.
She can’t see over the top of the cardboard box in her arms and she feels juvenile yelling for Trixie like they’re playing Marco Polo. Today is one year since they met and — they haven’t done it on purpose — they are moving into their first home. It’s a three bed bungalow in Pasadena that Katya is only paying for about twenty percent of, but Trixie insisted.
Katya can’t stop thinking about Trixie in overalls with a scarf tied around her hair, standing on tiptoe to paint the parts of the walls that Katya can’t reach. She has a tour coming up in the fall, and neither of them want to think about being apart for seven weeks, but everything is different now. Trixie will come home from tour to their house. She will help Katya raise their dog, a rescue named Bunny they both absolutely adore.
“That’s for my office,” Trixie says right into her ear. It startles her, but Trixie catches the box before she’s even really dropping it.
Katya pads down the hall after Trixie and follows her into the room at the front of the house they’ve designated as her workspace. All of her guitars will hang on the wall in here eventually. Right now there are drop sheets down still to protect the new floors they had installed throughout. Trixie sets the box down and turns to look at Katya.
“Hey,” she says. Come here.
Katya steps into her space and slides her arms easily around Trixie’s waist. She kisses her, slow and exploratory until she feels Trixie’s knees start to liquify and she sags in her arms.
Since they’ve lived together, things have settled down a bit. Katya no longer feels every single tiny blip on Trixie’s emotional seismometer. She still gets the big things, like how it was when they were growing up, but so much better.
“I can’t believe this is our life,” Katya whispers. She kisses Trixie again, takes her time because they have time. They’ve got all the time in the world, now. Trixie is always responsive, always sweet and silly, and she kisses Katya like she likes her so much.
“Listen. I gotta talk to you about something.” Trixie takes a deep breath and meets Katya’s eyes. “I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore.”
There’s mischief flitting with crêpe paper wings inside of Katya’s chest. Trixie’s mouth isn’t smiling, but her eyes are, and she’s clinging tight to Katya’s hands.
“Oh no?”
“No. I want to be your wife. I wanna marry you, Katya.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be on your knees or something?” Katya says, and is proud that her voice only cracks once.
Trixie kneels down as daintily as she can. She’s wearing jeans today, which startled Katya so badly this morning that for a second she felt like she’d seen a poltergeist. The floor is dusty and there’s still protective paper covering the window and a bulb dangles grotesquely from a wire over their heads because they haven’t picked a fixture yet.
It’s perfect.
“Katya,” Trixie starts. She takes both of Katya’s hands in hers and Katya kneels down in front of her, wants them to be on an even keel for this.
“I could say a bunch of straight people shit, like that I can’t imagine my life without you in it, but the gag is that it’s true. I can’t, because I’ve never experienced that.”
Trixie laughs, and Katya does too even though hot tears are already sliding down her cheeks and off the end of her nose. It earns her a look of concern from Trixie and she makes a little noise to say keep going.
“And I know that we’re forever and it’s just a piece of paper and it doesn’t really mean anything, but…it kinda does mean something. To me. And I just really like the thought of calling you my wife and never ever shutting up about it.” She darts a glance over to the dog, who is hopping around and wagging her tail furiously. “Plus, our daughter is illegitimate and we just can’t have that. The scandal of it all.”
Katya chokes on a sob and then surges forwards to kiss Trixie. It is not at all sexy; she’s openly crying into Trixie’s mouth and Bunny is barking at them both, getting swept up in the excitement.
She kisses Trixie deep and open-mouthed, lets her tongue slick inside and keeps Trixie in place with her palm at her cheek. She’s going to be her wife. Katya likes that thought, and likes the thought of being a wife herself, too. It doesn’t terrify her anymore. How could it?
Here is Trixie, warm and soft and good and asking Katya for something she has always intended to give. They separate and the dog nudges her way in between them and licks Katya’s neck, her wiggly body bumping into Katya’s stomach.
Katya keeps Bunny aside with a hand at her chest. Trixie is grinning so big that her eyes are creasing and Katya can see all of her teeth. Her freckles are dark with the summertime and her nose is a little sunburnt and Katya loves her.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, you fucking monster. You swamp thing.” She rests her forehead at Trixie’s chin for a moment, just to catch her breath, and then she straightens to see her again. “Yes. Of course. Of course.”
#rpdr fanfiction#trixie mattel#katya zamolodchikova#trixya#soulmate au#lesbian au#fluff#smut#like a LOT of smut#ficon#beanierose
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@emblematik requested “yuugi + datebook” and i was like “hm interesting” and then a few minutes later i was like “oh shit... IDEA.”
no joke: i wrote 90% of this on my phone. i just checked the word count and it’s 2000 words. lol. casual rivalshipping, but it’s not about that. post-DM. enjoy the feels x
MONDAY, 8:26 AM
Yuugi sat cross-legged in the soft, shallow cradle of his bed, half-asleep, phone in his hands. Anzu was on the other end of the video call, wandering through the New York apartment she shared with four other girls.
“ -- so they come bursting out of the egg, and that's just how the show starts. It gets loonier from there. But it means every week, she has to make another big-ass papier-mâché egg for her guest performer, and this week, that’s me. Hey Tiff, love the space buns,” Anzu said, turning to someone out-of-sight, and Yuugi heard a voice call back, in a cheerful sing-song, thaaank youuu!
“So you're helping her make the egg?” Yuugi said.
“Yeah, she calls it 'laying the egg.’ Performance artists are so weird,” she said, as Yuugi grinned with delight. “Anyway, gotta run. Can you do next Sunday?”
“Let me see,” Yuugi said, leaning over to swipe his weathered datebook off his night stand, the pages dogeared with almost a year's worth of use. A blank datebook he'd filled out from June to June with every notable hour of his life, using a pen he kept tucked in the binding. He'd spilled water on it a few months ago and the pages had crinkled as they dried. Now it refused to sit flat, with gaps that rippled between the pages.
He held the phone in one hand and flipped clumsily through the datebook with the other, spreading it open on his thigh. After that Sunday, there was one blank week left in the datebook. “Nope, I'm booked. Let's just do Monday again.”
“Works for me,” Anzu said. “Love ya! Bye!”
“Love you too, have fun laying your egg,” Yuugi said, and she flashed him an exasperated grin. The screen went black, and a dreamy silence descended on Yuugi’s bedroom once more. Yuugi flopped back down into bed with a contented sigh, tossing the phone onto the nightstand. He held the datebook over his head, his week carefully penned in. Class, his shifts at the game shop, and on Tuesday, he was seeing…
TUESDAY, 6:37 PM
“Fuck,” Jounouchi said, staring in bafflement at the cards lying face up on the playmat between them. They sat at a long, wooden table on the airy patio of a cafe, with vines flowing thick along the walls, the cards illuminated in the soft, inviting light of the lanterns strung across the space. “How did you win? When did you win?”
“A few turns ago,” Yuugi confessed, idly churning the ice of his Italian soda with his straw. “But you had me on the ropes for a while there. If you played your Time Wizard combo a turn earlier, I would've lost.”
“Damnit! I knew it,” Jounouchi said, thumping his fist firmly on the table. “I keep forcing myself to wait. I just don't wanna blow it again, like Nationals.”
“I think your nerves are making you doubt yourself,” Yuugi said. “Your instincts are strong. Just listen to them, and you'll do fine.”
Jounouchi, gathering up his cards from the playmat, glanced up at him, the lantern light giving his faint blush a rosy glow.
“See, how the heck am I supposed to attack you when you say things like that?” he said. “Maybe I should get a practice duel with someone who actually pisses me off. Hey, ask your pal if he'll duel me.”
“My pal? Is that what he is?” Yuugi said, lifting an eyebrow as he reached for his phone; then he changed course, tucking his hand into the messenger bag at his feet and ferreting out his datebook. He checked the date. “I'm seeing him tomorrow, actually. I'll just ask.”
“Perfect. How's your Sunday looking? Honda said he’ll have my Duel Disk fixed by then.”
“I have plans already,” Yuugi said, dropping the datebook back into his bag and leaning back in his chair.
“Oh, okay, Mr. Popular. Don't forget I leave for the tournament Friday after next. That's in your book, right?” Jou said, and Yuugi hummed in reply. Mm-hmm. Then Jou leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table and his chin atop his hands, fixing Yuugi with a roguish look. “Who is Kaiba, if not your pal?”
Now Yuugi couldn't help but blush, his skin warmer than the summer air. “Uh, he's…”
WEDNESDAY, 9:57 PM
Sitting next to Yuugi on the couch, one bent leg tucked underneath him and one arm slung over the back. Studying the screen of Yuugi's laptop as Yuugi scrolled through the lines of code he'd abandoned, several days earlier, at dawn, surrendering to the frustration of a long and fruitless all-nighter. Lucky for him, Kaiba liked nothing so much as telling people they were wrong, why they were wrong, and how to stop being wrong.
Kaiba leaned closer, frowning intently, his force of presence buffeting Yuugi like a wave. A good wave, dense and heady, fragrant with his cologne. He had many, many things to say about object-oriented programming, all of which Yuugi had listened to very carefully, and none of which he'd actually heard.
“I found your problem,” Kaiba declared.
“Thank God, this assignment is driving me nuts,” Yuugi said, sighing with relief. “What is it?”
In response, Kaiba reached out and shut the laptop with a firm whap. “You’re distracted.”
“I am not,” Yuugi said.
“Tell me what I just said about using global variables.”
Yuugi bit his lip, scrambling through the last five, ten, fifteen minutes for whatever Kaiba had said about global variables, and found… nothing, except a keen awareness of the way Kaiba was staring at him now, leaning his cheek against his loosely curled hand, a wry smile tugging on his lips.
“Uh,” Yuugi said after a moment, realizing he’d fallen neatly into the usual trap. “Don't?”
Kaiba snorted. “When is this due?”
Yuugi leaned forward, momentarily escaping the weightless swell of feeling in his chest, and plucked his datebook off the coffee table from where it lay beside his textbooks. “In a week.”
“Alright. I have a few hours on Sunday or Tuesday. When would you like to waste my time next?” Kaiba said, with a sort of laid-back disdain.
“I think I’ll squander your Tuesday,” Yuugi said, tugging the pen free, scribbling a note. He set both laptop and datebook on the coffee table and settled back, deeply, breathlessly aware of Kaiba's gaze on him, tracing lines of fire up and down his body.
“So,” Kaiba said, a low, teasing growl, his mouth inches from Yuugi's ear. “What is so distracting to you?”
“Nothing,” Yuugi said, smiling, about to vibrate out of himself with impatience. “You have my full attention.”
“Good,” Kaiba said, and the next thing Yuugi knew he was swept up in a dark rush of warmth, Kaiba pressing a kiss like a hot, wet star to the curve of his neck. He fumbled blindly with one arm, catching Kaiba by the back of his head, pulling him down as he twisted and fell backwards along the couch.
He huffed, a wordless plea for mercy, as Kaiba mouthed along the shell of his ear, making scandalous suggestions with his tongue, clearly enjoying himself.
“Problem solved,” he said smugly, and Yuugi groaned, laughing.
FRIDAY, 4:13 PM
A gentle chime broke through the cool, quiet air of the game shop. Yuugi, wandering the shelves with his scanner, conducting inventory, pulled his phone out of his back pocket.
RYOU:
finished writing my new campaign!! want in?
YUUGI:
duh
what days are u thinking?
RYOU:
sundays? that's when everyone else is free
YUUGI:
i can do sundays, but not this sunday
RYOU:
not a problem. we can start next week. any plans?
The question turned over in his chest like a stone, a tremendous weight, heavy and slow and dull. Yuugi stood motionless, staring down at his phone, the scanner dangling in his limp hand and the silence of the store falling over him like a shroud.
But he shook it off. Ryou had given him the idea.
YUUGI:
I’m going to the park with my datebook, you know the one
RYOU:
oh
please send him my best
YUUGI:
i will!
is this the space campaign you were telling me about?
Pulling out of the subject like pulling a boot out of the mud, with staggering release. Yuugi resumed his task of taking inventory, stopping every so often to answer Ryou's excited texts about Eldritch horrors and homebrew campaigns.
That night, he lay in bed and discovered the stone was still there, cradled in his straining ribs. So he opened the skylight in his bedroom, inviting the summer night to flow in. It sprawled open above him, hot and dark and flecked with stars, vibrating with the hum of cicadas hidden in the trees. The summer spinning its promise into a refrain. Every new day, each blank page of his datebook, beckoning him forward.
SUNDAY, 11:00 AM
Yuugi awoke to a bright, beautiful June morning, sliding his feet into the secret pockets of cool still tucked away between the sheets. The skylight in his room revealed a clear, hot sky.
He flew through the rest of the morning, as light and taut as a kite, unburdened by exhaustion or idleness. On a whim, he opened his laptop, giving a quick eye to his assignment; Kaiba wouldn't bring up global variables for no reason… and the solution presented itself, like a closed fist turning over to reveal the prize in its palm.
He didn’t cancel on Kaiba. They’d waste time some other way.
Buoyant, he left the house, with his datebook and a lighter in his bag. There were two stops to make before the park: first, a cafe, for an iced coffee, and second, the neighborhood bookstore, where he bought a brand-new blank datebook.
Then he began the long, pleasant walk down to the park, his phone on silent. The whole of Domino was cast in a drowsy summer light so smooth and liquid he wanted to cup it in his hands and drink it, to feel it run sweet and pure through his veins. Neither his mind nor his route wandered from their destination: the plank bridge in the park.
It sat in an isolated corner of the park, a leafy, overgrown grotto dappled with sunlight. The long pond slowed to a mirrored stillness here, cooled by the shade of the trees. Insects hummed in the foliage. As Yuugi stepped onto the plank bridge, the hollow thunk of his foot sent some small, shy creature plunging for safety into the water, leaving only ripples behind.
He knelt on the plank bridge and opened the old datebook, taking a moment to transfer the last remains of his schedule into the first week of the new datebook. His class schedule, his work schedule, his weekly call with Anzu, Joe's tournament dates, the new campaign. All of it carefully penned in.
Then he leaned over the edge of the plank bridge, seeing his reflection on the surface of the water. It was harder with mirrors: they were too crisp, too defined. They showed him nothing but his own face. But if he unfocused his eyes a bit, if he took a deep breath and snapped the last piece into place and made a wish, the face on the water wavered. Just enough to believe.
“I miss you,” he said, to the water. “I miss you every day. I still feel you… gone, here.”
He made a fist, motioning to the center of his chest. An absence with weight; a nothing and a something all at the same time. The kind of puzzle Atem would love.
There was nothing else to add. He’d said most of it already, last year and the year before. They would see each other again, some day, and he had long since understood that he was not meant to wait and he was not meant to run. He was meant to stay right here, in the heart of his own life, and feel it beating.
Yuugi readjusted, sitting cross-legged on the bridge. He flipped through the datebook, going backwards to the beginning. The memories burst open inside him, as raw and fresh as a ripe fruit, swollen with color and feeling. Deadlines for that art history class. Flying out for Anzu’s solo show in December. His first date with Kaiba, sometime in March, although neither of them realized it was a date until the morning after. CHAMPIONSHIP!!, on a weekend in September, when Jou had swept the Pan-Pacific. The pages were as crisp and dry as autumn leaves; they'd burn well.
He turned to the first page.
“Here’s what you missed,” Yuugi said, and began to read.
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