#also I always seem to be drawing them like .25 seconds away from kissing

[sarahivess]

19 minutes and 17 seconds of reasons why I love Byler so much.

Songs:

“Hearing” by Sleeping at Last

“Holland” by Novo Amor

“Wait” by M83

“Turning Page” by Sleeping at Last

“Complex” by Katie Gregson-MacLeod

The reasons:

1. Will can’t lie to Mike, not even small white lies

2. Their relationship is in focus right from the very start

3. Mike is always the one in focus when it’s about Will

4. Mike feels like he’s the only one who cares about Will

5. When Will’s fake body was found, Mike’s reaction was in focus

6. Mike never stopped believing that Will was alive

7. Mike recognizes Will’s voice instantly

8. When they first met El in the woods, Mike’s first thought was “That’s not Will”

9. ”And we kissed, as though nothing could fall. And the shame was on the other side.”

10. Mike stood up to the bullies when they made homophobic jokes about Will

11. Mike’s father can’t think of him being with a girl

12. Mike’s mother knows and accepts him

13. Mike saves all of Will’s drawings in a binder

14. He even caresses them

15. When Will came back, Mike laid his head on Will’s chest to hear his heart beating

16. Mike and Will is in their happiest state while playing DnD together

17. Mike is the only one who notices Will going away

18. He is also the one who snaps him out of his trance

19. More than once

20. Mike’s voice is softer towards Will than to any other person, aka “The Will voice”

21. Mike immediately notice changes in Will’s behavior

22. Will always screams for Mike when he’s in danger or lost

23. And when he’s hurt

24. Mike says he’s gonna take Will home

25. and he takes him to his basement

26. Will feels like Mike is the only one who understands him

27. When Will listed all the people who like to “baby” him, he doesn’t mention Mike

28. “Only love makes you that crazy”

29. They said they’d go crazy together

30. Mike wants to be a writer, and Will wants to be a comic-book artist (perfect match)

31. Mike worries about Will and insists to be there for him

32. Mike is always the first person next to Will when something happens to him

33. He also sees himself as Will’s personal protector

34. He never left Will’s side when he was possessed

35. Mike slept in an uncomfortable hospital chair to make sure Will was never alone, even though he was possessed

36. Will still rememberers Mike

37. Mike wants to protect Will and be his shield

38. Mike held Will’s hand to give him comfort

39. The hand that Mike held was the only part of Will’s body that wasn’t possessed that wasn’t possessed was the hand Mike held, and this way Will could communicate with them

40. The thumb touch

41. Mike remembered the first day he met Will in detail, even though they were only 5 years old

42. Mike never smiles in pictures, unless Will is there with him

43. Mike’s reaction to Will dancing with a girl on the Snow Ball

44. Will is the best thing that ever happened to Mike

45. They both blush when they’re at the movies together

46. They’re looking at each other’s lips

47. More than once. Mike even got distracted by it

48. Will says he’s not gonna fall in love

49. But he’s already fallen

50. Will smiles when El breaks up with Mike

51. Mike doesn’t seem heartbroken by the break up

52. When Will is upset with Mike he immediately tries to make everything okay again

53. The projection: ”It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”

54. Will admitted he wanted to spend the rest of his life playing games with Mike

55. Twice. He can’t see a future without Mike

56. Will destroys Castle Byers because of Mike’s hurtful words

57. Mike immediately bikes through Hawkins in the thunder storm to apologize and make things right again with Will

58. Mike walked through the dark forest in the rain calling for Will because he was scared something had happened to him again

59. Will donated his DnD game because the game meant nothing without Mike

60. Will promised he won’t join another party

61. Their shared smile

62. Their heartfelt goodbye

63. Hopper’s speech is heavily Mike-coded

64. When Will left, Mike got depressed and stayed in his basement for weeks

65. “Will is painting a lot for someone he likes, maybe it is a girl?” El writes in a letter to Mike

66. When they meet again it’s suddenly very awkward (from Mike’s side) he also immediately asks about the painting

67. Mike is suddenly acting jealous, “ignoring” Will and they share and avoid awkward eye contact

68. Mike asks El if their friends is gonna be where they’re going, and he reacts when Will says “Angela”, so he tries to make Will jealous by kissing El on the temple

69. And he succeeds

70. Will is angry at El for lying to Mike for months and he thinks Mike deserves better

71. Mike thinks Will has sabotaged the whole day because he barely talks to him, rolling his eyes and moping

72. They both feel hurt for not reaching out more, even though Mike actually tried to call Will a bunch of times according to Dustin

73. “We’re friends, we’re friends”, “We used to be BEST friends”

74. Mike thinks home isn’t the same without Will

75. He also admitted that he felt like he had lost Will

76. SCRIPT: “This intimate moment got shattered-“

77. They always gets interrupted when they’re having a moment

78. Mike gets nervous every time Will is close to him or accidentally touches him

79. The flirting, pining & staring

80. Will wants to confess but is afraid Mike won’t like the truth

81. Mike nods. He.. understand what he means?

82. Mike can’t say or write “I love you” to El

83. Mike feels like they can’t come back from that

84. Will’s painting was for Mike

85. Mike’s face drops when Will said the painting was from El

86. He was actually talking about his own feelings for Mike, and how he sees him, with El’s name as a shield because he wanted to reassure him

87. Mike is Will’s heart, he’s making him feel like he’s not a mistake and that he’s better for being different. He don’t want to lose him

88. Will cries in the van because he’s in love with his best friend and don’t know how to tell him, this was the first time he ever lied to Mike

89. The look on Mike’s face when he spots Will after his reunion with El

90. Will thinks Mike and El is happily and in love (from his PoV)

91. When in reality, they really aren’t

92. Will’s brother knows and accepts him

93. Will reminds Mike that he’s the heart, pushing him into confessing his love to save El

94. She doesn’t believe him, but Will does

95. Mike and El are barely talking after the monologue

96. Will tells Mike about Vecna and Mike reassures him (in the most beautiful light we’ve ever seen in the show)

97. Mike is always by Will’s side for the rest of the last episode, foreshadowing the arc of season 5

98. The last shot of season 4 is them paralleling the other canon couples of the show

99. Will is Mike’s light

100. Mike is Will’s light

101. They are perfect together.

#101 reasons to love mike and Will #byler #byler edit #byler is endgame #Youtube

[no-where-new-hero]

Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Day 25 (Part 4, Ch. 6)

...in which Polly walks away.

This final chapter does NOT mess around. DWJ layers on motifs and symbols galore, all resonating with the themes and imagery that we've already seen throughout the novel and pointing to the grand finale. Buckle in, because this is a long ride to Nowhere.

Immediately, Polly reattaches herself to Tom, determined no longer to cede to the embarrassment of clinging to him because she's learnt that lesson already. He pretends not to notice her and attempts to shake her off, but the arrival of Mr. Piper forestalls any need for clarification (Tom Lynn knows Mr. Piper, though their connection isn't immediately stated). It isn't until Polly has crashed the train ride--much as she first crashed the funeral--that she demands to be recognized. Of course, Ann Abraham--Tan Audel, whose gift is memory--comes the closest to admitting remembrance.

Polly and Tom's reunion is one of the most painfully joyous connections in all of literature. I personally adore their bond and the raw way that DWJ portrays it--the irrepressible happiness, the careful way Tom admits he remembers her, the way that all their important moments are recalled and woven back through their conversation. The panto, Sports Day, the first funeral, sentimental drivel, the books Tom sent Polly. The allusions are quick and brief and somewhat hard to follow--but we do get a picture of what had been going between them and the way Laurel's magic works.

But they also clarify their own feelings to each other, or at least attempt to: they apologize for their mutual bad behavior and argue through the way their abilities to speak things into truth have more or less molded each other and the way that the curse affects them. It's an interesting power play, because although Laurel is so much stronger than them, we can see the loopholes they have been making for each other, leading up to their kiss at the gates of Hunsdon House.

There is a moment, several pages earlier, that in some ways foreshadows it:

A hand-like leaf fell on the case of the cello, and slid off again. Polly shuddered.

It's one of those hyper-specific DWJ details that both paints a scene and invokes a mood, and I have always seen this as a metaphor. DWJ has already used Tom's hands as a representative physical attribute and music is another one of his strengths that he draws upon, like Polly is. Polly's "shudder" at the touch also feels indicative of a transfer of affect. But it's also an illustration of how Polly has held on and then let go, and the falling leaf represents a loss of a day of good luck, echoing Granny's superstition from the second chapter. Again, DWJ is eliding the signifiers for her heroes.

Once they cross into the Nowhere Hunsdon House, they once again find themselves in the type of artificially polite social scenario Laurel is so fond of, where Leslie, Seb, and Mr. Leroy await them. We finally get some truths out of Seb, at last: that if Laurel doesn't use Tom, he'll be used instead; that he worked for them out of desperation to save his own life; that he used Polly as much as Tom did, with perhaps even less genuine affection (and certainly no remorse over the fact). Leslie is absolutely being lined up as Tom's replacement, a blind sacrificial lamb that *might* still have been saved if someone did something about it. But I think he's meant to show the easy way a young and vulnerable person can fall into a situation like this: through neglect. Because Leslie has been neglected just as much as Tom or Polly, by Charles Lynn: the real identity of Tom Piper.

In his final iteration of Tom Lynn's shadow self, he is shown to have given up Tom to Laurel, and he will now lose Leslie as a result of that cold-heartedness. We learn this was how Laurel got Tom--through Charles--and also somehow through the Fire and Hemlock picture, which (along with the lock of his hair) seems tied to his soul, now in Polly's keeping.

But the final struggle for Tom's life must happen, even though Seb stands in line to take Mr. Leroy's place and Leslie stands in line to take Tom's (DWJ never abandons her symmetry, even here). Polly realizes that the only way she can force Tom to win is to leave him completely alone, so that Mr. Leroy will also be alone--more symmetry. The quartet summon the horse, but she must take action before it arrives. The way DWJ describes her decision to basically reject everything--everything Tom gave her, everything she made of herself because of their friendship--is beautiful. Absolutely stunning, one of my favorite passages in the entire novel:

She came to Mr Leroy. He was leaning on his stick watching Tom sarcastically over his shoulder. He broke into his loud, fatal laugh as he saw Polly. But the laugh stopped as she walked past him into the miasmic ripples, and he looked at her uneasily. Polly kept her eyes on the greyed, uncertain shape of Tom below. He was definitely below now, in the wrong perspective of that current, deep beneath her. Around her, everything became grey-green ripples, but she did not feel the ripples, or anything else particularly. She had meant to harden her mind and be as stony as Ivy, but she seemed stony already. Kind feeling seemed to bleed away from her as she went downwards. Love, companionship, even Nowhere meant less and less. All she felt was a numb kind of sadness. The truth between two people always cuts two ways, she thought. And she had to go on.

The line I bolded always seems to me to have the heart of the novel, even though I'm never quite sure what it means--unless it means it's always half a lie. Which is an extremely raw message to convey in a story built on storytelling as the realest thing in life.

Polly rejects Tom, utterly. It's the most clear-eyed conclusion of the entire novel, built on her experiences of Nowhere and also the rest of the world. She rejects him because she knows that's the only way for him to win according to Laurel's rules--but it's also for having used her, for having shaped her childhood into this past baggage she has to hold onto, for taking her for granted. I know DWJ intended her "I've got a career to come, too" as a feminist stake in no longer being defined by her relationship to a man--but it's also Polly choosing to focus on herself in the future, as though her past no longer matters.

This part always hurt me when I read it, and it still does. But I think the older I get, the more I understand it. The more doing the painful things feel meaningful and the less that you can have your cake and eat it too. It's such an incredibly mature message to tack on at the end of a children's book, and I still can't believe, sometimes, that DWJ managed to get away with it.

#fh readalong #fire and hemlock #diana wynne jones #dwj

[angelkurenai]

Imagine Pedro being teased and questioned about how close he is with you, Gal’s adopted sister, and trying his best to hide the fact that you are actually dating.

“So, Gal, I am going to direct this question mostly at you but of course anyone can get to answer. I actually wanted to know your opinion about it.” Conan said, as Gal herself nodded her head with a smile.

“Oh, please, with pleasure.”

“There have been several photos, and I do not mean just from paps or professionals. Even you on your personal instagram posted a few. Which, to say the least, broke the internet as we all saw.”

“Yeah uh truth is my instagram wasn't working for several hours afterwards and I thought it was just me but then I kept asking others and got the same reply from everyone! Turns out, we caused a blackout of sorts.” Gal laughed, admitting to it before looking away in embarrassment while the rest of the cast nodded their heads as if almost giving her a a playful glare, even through the screen of the computer.

“And the reason behind that, who would have thought, a couple photos!” Jimmy nodded his head “Your sister, your adopted sister (Y/n), came to visit you on the set of Wonder Woman 1984. It was, for lack of better words, a historic moment not just for instagram who crashed because of the popularity of the photos but also for comic book fans worldwide. It was the closest we could get to a Marvel and DC crossover.”

“You say that because she was in her costume in some of them yeah?” Gal asked with a bright smile, always loving to talk about her little sister as Conan nodded his head “Yes, it was (Y/n)'s idea and everyone knows it, I can never say no to my little sister. Plus, she was right; we had so much fun fooling around in our costumes! I had more fun than I've ever had on a set of a movie before. And, yes, I almost always enjoy the movies I'm in, but this one- this one was truly something else! We- almost everyone, I think, played along as we acted as our characters and filmed some scenes just for laughs. I really really hope they make it into the bloopers somehow.”

“So you're planning on taking down youtube next, I see. I see.” the host nodded his head with playfully narrowed eyes, seeming all suspicious and making everyone laugh.

“No, no I swear! I don't want to!” she said in between laughter “We all had so much fun and an amazing time on set and in front of the cameras, playing superheroes that it would be incredible for the fans to see! It's- Really, it is kind of an unofficial crossover that should make it to the internet at least!”

“I'll have to-” Patty spoke up “I'll have to give it to Gal, she is right. (Y/n) had this amazing idea and creative at the same time because she had a small plot in her mind and lines and everything concerning the set. We all did a small setup and filmed it and, honestly, it came out to be real good!”

“Patty is no even exaggerating and Gal is certainly right. We had so much fun filming that small crossover, and (Y/n)'s ideas were brilliant! Fans will definitely love it!” Kristen said in addition.

“She truly is an incredibly talented, smart and creative person, besides an absolute darling. So kind to everyone and sweet, we all couldn't get enough of her. And-” Patty raised a finger “I will say it here once more because Gal has heard it before: the fastest we've filmed a scene in this movie. And it was all thanks to how professional she was, it was truly incredible!”

“Well, I can't ever deny it, my little sister is the biggest star there is! Oscars or other awards aside, she proves how great she is on every set on her own!”

“And you are definitely her biggest fan, as we all can clearly tell.” Conan pointed out with a small laugh “Speaking of, I think we do have someone who could only be described as your main rival on that sweet stop of being your sister's number one fan. Someone who hasn't been shy about expressing his admiration about (Y/n) but who has yet to utter a word.” Conan looked back up from his papers and said someone almost felt his heart jump in fear and nervousness, hoping that at least nobody noticed that he was indeed being silent for a reason “Pedro, you're being uncharacteristically quiet about this one, especially for something that caused Instagram to crash within thirty minutes of the photos being uploaded. I'm not- I'm not used to this from you. Come on, talk to me. Say what's on your mind.”

“This is oddly- I'm getting strange deja vu vibes here. Must be cause of that one time I visited a therapist. Long story short, it was only one session for me and about hm at least 25 for him. I heard he's still going to a therapist now.” he shrugged casually, earning laughter from everyone. He chuckled slightly himself, glancing over the screen of his computer while trying his best to keep anything from showing on his face even more so his smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I mean-” he cleared his throat “Ah man, what else can I say? The ladies have spoken, and they've said exactly what- I believe anyone that gets the opportunity to work with (Y/n) or watch her movies would agree she is one of a kind.” he shrugged softly with an adorable smile “Besides, it feels like anything I say is just going to be used against me, so I- I better keep on silently observing. That does seem like it's the safest option here.”

Pedro's laugh was more of a nervous if not awkward one, but he was pretty confident it was just no different to how he would usually laugh away questions he didn't want to answer in interviews. Most celebrities did the same, he wouldn't be the first nor the last, so he didn't expect Conan to insist any further. He didn't want to push his luck, he had been really successful (if not blessed after all these close calls) with all these online interviews to not have everything revealed by accident, so now especially with the current topic, he didn't feel like messing things up. He loved this privacy, he didn't want to lose it not yet, he wanted you and this all to himself for now. And he wanted the story of how you met, of how over that one month and a half on set he felt himself fall in love with you.

And yet... Yet, he was probably a weak man, a man who couldn't help but indulge even if he knew it could probably get him in trouble. You were worth it, though, you were worth all of it and as you were his weakest spot and so indulge he did. He slowly chewed on his lower lip and he so subtly looked over the screen of his computer.

His eyes fell on you, still splayed on his bed, book in one hand and steaming mug on the nightstand – your nightstand on your side of the bed, the thought of which made his heart flutter inside his chest – hair slightly messy, that oversized Mandalorian shirt on, which you'd gotten all excited amongst many many more fandom related toys a couple months ago and couldn't wait for him to see. A shirt which had, inevitably, ended up being taken off you barely ten minutes later starting from him stealing kisses and leading to the two of you making love till the very morning in between endless giggles. The pup you'd gotten – the both of you – not so long ago made a small noise drawing your attention for a short moment as you kept petting him, the both of you too tired to do anything else after an exhausting day of playing. Pedro couldn't complain, although he'd been a part of it he had mostly spent time filming everything even if you hadn't been the one to ask him to, he couldn't help it.

It was something that the both of you decided on and although you hadn't said it out loud, you both knew and at least Pedro hoped, that it was the next step, a very important one, in your relationship besides you moving in with him. To be responsible for another living being together was, if not a test, at least a way to see how well you could cooperate. And, if he could say so himself, you had been doing great so far.

“Good morning, darling. Here for morning kisses? Yes? Come up here.” your giggles were able to warm him more than the sunlight coming through the window “Ooooh someone really loves mommy, don't you?”

And then your words set his entire being alight. Or more specifically that one particular word.

“Well-” he stretched a bit, his arms finding your waist again to bring you closer and cuddle with you “Who doesn't love mommy in this house?” he couldn't help it as his smile turned into a lovestruck grin “Morning, mi amor.”

“Good morning, darling.” you pecked his lips “And don't worry, mommy loves daddy back, enough to make up for the rest of the world.”

As if reading his mind, you chose to look up from your book at him, smiling as you held his gaze for a good few seconds. So much love was evident, even in those few seconds, he could almost feel his own heart burst. Yet another reason for him to control his reactions from showing just how much on high on happiness and love he was. You shook your head, eyes wide as you heard Conan speak again, you playfully mouthed to him “Focus!”

As subtly as possible he tried to clear his throat and taking the mug of coffee that was beside his computer, he took a sip and decided to focus on it as much as he could. Until the subject changed, at least.

“...Wise man. I feel you, so don't worry I'll leave you to it.” if only he knew the big sigh of relief Pedro tried to hold back as Conan continued “It's the tactic I follow 99% of the time when I'm out with my wife, just smile and wave kind of thing. Alright-” he nodded his head in thought “Alright, well, let me ask you all something else. You keep saying in front of the cameras and talking about this small crossover, but I assume she must have been around for longer than that, yes?”

“Yes, yes she was there for at least a month, a month and a half I think. She was on vacation, after being done with filming, and she decided that before heading home that she'd come by and visit us. It was meant to be for a short period of time. She loved the place... the people, perhaps, how could I know for sure?” she shrugged not looking innocent in the least bit, earning a few laughs.

“Anyway-” she cleared her throat “And you see before she knew it, before we all did, one week turned into two turned into three and so on. It-” she chuckled “She was around on set and with us on all those beautiful locations we were in. And while we were all working and walking around with purpose and the need to finish this scene with so much pressure on- on our shoulders and she was just sitting around with a iced coffee or tea on her hand, sunglasses on and phone on the other hand looking she didn't have a single care in the world. It kind of made everyone a little bit jealous to be honest.”

“A little? Cause I sense that there's more than you're letting on, Gal. Come on, spill the tea.”

“Alright more than a little.” she laugh “I mean, it wasn't all the time, of course. Just the first couple days mostly but you can imagine how it was. It seemed like she did it on purpose sometimes.”

“Twistin' the knife even deeper, that's what she's best at. Oh I know!” Conan nodded his head “I'm actually afraid to invite her on the show because I fear how bad she'll roast me. Andy-” he laughed “Andy is the only one who has the most fun during those interviews.”

“I know right? Boy you tell me!” Gal exclaimed “That little shit. I adore her to no end but I really had the hardest of time when she was around. She just had to make comments on everything she could, especially when I was acting. I couldn't stop laughing sometimes, but nobody got mad at her. It was always my fault somehow!”

“I mean she's just so sweet, how could we be mad at her?” Patty added.

“She messed up so many of my scenes!” Gal pretended to be angry but her smile gave it away “But it's true, I couldn't even be mad at her. I don't get to see her that often, because of the work we both do, so I would give anything to have my sister with me like that every other chance I got. Even if I got all the blame for it, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, you understand.”

“Aw that's- that's incredibly sweet, actually. It's- that's the exact opposite of me and my brother so no I can't really understand to be honest, but alright.” Conan laughed “Well, then, you really got your chance this time, right? You had the opportunity to spend all this time with her. When you were not working of course.”

“I...” Gal trailed off, her smile turning into a mischievous one but the rest of her expression trying to remain innocent, and failing at it because she truly wasn't even trying “Well, I would say yes. And I would agree with you. And I would even ramble about the wonderful two months I spent with my sister... If that had been the case. If I had really seen her for more than a week total, then yeah I would say that.”

“Wha- P-Pardon me?” Conan blinked in surprise “Didn't you j-just say your sister was with you on set for about two months? Or have I been in a parallel universe all this time and I just now came back to our reality?”

“Oh no it's very much our reality but I also did mean what I said. My sister was on set, and I did see her quiet often. But did I spend almost all of my free time with her? Did she spend hers with me? Nope. And that-” again with a far-from-innocent shrug “That is probably the only question I can answer. What she did? Did she have fun?... Who she was with? I wish I knew. What I know is I wasn't the one closest to her on set.”

“So you're telling me, (Y/n) was on set full of people she didn't really know, and you, her sister, barely spent any time with her? I'm gonna assume the rest of you didn't spend more time with her compared to Gal, right?” he asked and got nods from everyone, well, everyone who had their eyes on their screen and therefore looking at Conan, because there was still one that would avoid eye-contact even through the screen “Well, then, who was closest to her on set, if not you?”

“She, well-” Gal paused, smile all too sweet as she added “There could be someone...”

Said someone who couldn't even look up from his mug of coffee, as if it was the most interesting thing in the entire world, and didn't dare say a word for fearing of messing things up; even if his silence spoke volumes as it was. A silence which was... even more intense than before. Even more... real. Probably because it wasn't just in his head, probably because it wasn't just from his part.

Blinking several times, he slowly raised his head to look up from his mug and at the screen of his computer. Only to be met with the eyes of the rest of the group staring at... well, they were staring at the screen of their own computers but for some reason – a reason which he knew all too well – he felt like all eyes were suddenly on him. And they probably were. Because Gal was being nice about it but almost everyone had noticed how much time you had spent with Pedro during those almost two months. You had just met back then so they didn't imply anything back then but now... now they could just as well do so.

“I-” he laughed and he hated how nervous he sounded “Is it time to talk about my character?” he asked almost shyly, nearly praying on the inside that they would say yes and let him change the subject “Well, Max Lord is a guy who-”

“Are you trying to change the subject there, Pedro? One can wonder why.” Conan narrowed his eyes “Come on, don't be shy. Share your opinion here, or maybe your personal experience. Since I am assuming you do have one?”

“Yes, Pedro, why don't you share your opinion with us?” Gal raised an eyebrow, small smirk on her lips “You've been particularly interested in that drink the past couple minutes apparently.”

“I-” Pedro paused, before shaking his head with a laugh “This is going to be a long interview. I can tell.”

#pedro #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro imagine #pedro pascal imagine #pedro fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro one shot #pedro pascal one shot #wonder woman 1984 #maxwell lord #imagine #x reader #fanfiction #one shot #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #maxwell lord imagine #maxwell lord x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #ww84 #interview #may the 4th

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 25 - Easily

Masterlist; Chapter 24

Summary: Finally.

Warnings: 18+ (a lot of things happening 😌); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Hello 2 am upload 🙈 but at last... here we are. This one took a lot of effort... and getting into the zone. 10k words long scene... who else would be capable of this, huh?  🙃

I think this is as much of a crucial one as the finale will be and so I hope you’ll find it... satisfying. Enjoy (hopefully) and let me know what you think? 

P.S. the song for this one is Muse ‘Easily’ (which is also my favourite song hence you know *wink wink*)

The cabin was silent save for the sound of your shallow breathing. Even if you wanted to break the silence, there were no words for this. Nothing useful in the dictionaries to describe it. Ineffable.

With your heart fluttering nervously within its cage, you returned Neil’s intense gaze. You knew what this was – seeking reassurance. A question whether the kiss did what you needed it to do. In an answer, you could only lift your head and crash your lips into his in search of more. Your hands slid down his neck and arms to rest on the sides, slowly inching underneath the shirt. With Neil’s arms trapping you beneath him, there was nothing else to do but let go. The stifled feelings and desires took the lead as you kissed him with all the urgency of a starved beggar. That took him by surprise. He gasped when you tugged at his lower lip ferociously and grazed your fingernails over the skin on his back. He broke the kiss, darkened irises roaming over your face with evident infatuation. He seemed fascinated, as though the strength of your desire was unexpected. Idiot. After a moment, Neil leaned in again, setting up a slow tempo with his lips brushing over yours almost tenderly, building up the unavoidable heat. You shivered, letting out a quiet whimper that he caught, smiling against your mouth. Your tongue darted out, tracing the outline of his lips, drawing out groans. The overwhelming familiarity settling in with warmth spreading across your chest. It was always supposed to be like this.

Neil leaned down on his forearm, using the free hand to hike up your sweater and trace featherlike touches down your navel, as far as the band of trousers would allow. The simple gesture was enough to make you tremble. He noticed it, smirk adding a predatory gleam to his face, and repeated the torturous move. Teasing, tempting you as though you needed anything more to be convinced. Nothing else mattered. Only this. Frustration boiling over, you took hold of his chin with one hand, forcing Neil to meet your wild gaze. His eyes glistened with a passion that still had the potential to make you breathless. He raised his eyebrow in silent question, hand still roaming freely over your body, causing goosebumps wherever it went. Forcing the brain to work, you whispered out a command:

“More” meeting his gaze with unhidden desire, you licked your lips unconsciously.

He caught it, grin widening as his gaze flicked between your mouth and eyes as though unable to focus.

“Of what?” leaning in, Neil brushed his nose against yours.

“You,” using the hold over his chin, you swept your thumb over his lips, prying them open.

He did not need more information than that. His mouth collided with yours eagerly, wasting no time to deepen the kiss and take everything you had for him. It felt just like you remembered. No unnecessary tenderness as you both got lost in each other. Sighs and groans punctuating the moment with impatience. The pull that always took you aback was still there, making you cling as close as possible. With one hand resting on his side, just next to the familiar bullet scar, you could easily hoist your leg over his hip. You had to get closer. It seemed like the matter of utmost urgency. The change of position made Neil break the kiss. He was breathing heavily as his hand slid down your thigh in a gentle caress. Another simple gesture causing havoc in your veins. You gazed at him, exposing the inner needs by impatiently tugging on his shirt. Closer. Whatever Neil saw in your eyes gave him a clue. A mischievous spark in the blue irises before he started trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth to the jaw and down the neck. With each touch of his lips and brush of the stubble, you inhaled sharply. He always knew what to do to make you fall apart within seconds, expertly using the experience of all those stolen moments to choose the spots that were bound to make you squirm with increasing pleasure. A small peck underneath the ear. A light bite near the collar bone. Nerve endings alight. Defenceless, you exposed more skin for his use by tilting your head, helplessly letting your hands roam over his chest. The firm muscles an object of pure fascination. Yours. Soon you have been resolved to sighs and gasps, bucking your hips against his with undeniable need. The warmth spreading with alarming speed, hazing your mind. Only one clear thought remained. You had to have him. To make him yours.

“Neil, please…” the weak plea was enough to make him stop.

He placed a final reverent kiss on the edge of your jaw and met your eyes. No shame. A teasing smirk dangling off the corner of his mouth.

“Begging for mercy already?” the husky tone sent shivers down your spine.

Aware of your struggles, Neil ran his fingers up and down your thigh. Certain kinds of touches made the fabric seem almost non-existent. You wanted to put up a fight, to find a biting comeback. But that part of your brain has shut down, locked on that one incessant thought – closer. And so, you did your best to let that longing into your eyes, as you whispered:

“Let me touch you,” purposeful, shamefully desperate.

Neil swallowed, shocked by your honesty. The simplicity of your wishes. You caught a glimpse of something strange pass through his features before he once again captured your lips in a breathless kiss. You cupped his cheek, tracing all the sharp angles. He broke away, leaving a breath of space, the perfect opportunity for you to kiss the tip of his nose. You grinned at his stunned expression, filled with fondness that had the potential of shattering your heart into smithereens. It would be worth it. The soft smile assured you of that.

After a beat, Neil straightened, kneeling above you, extending a hand in an invitation to get what you asked. You took it without a second wasted, shifting on the bed so you could face him. A flutter of anxious butterflies swirled in your stomach as you reached out, fingers settling on his shoulders. Neil placed his hands on your waist underneath the sweater, caressing the skin gently. He was observing you curiously, fascinated by the urgency you have shown. You ran your hands down his arms, feeling the biceps, briefly intertwining your fingers. Encouraged by the lack of protest, you gathered up his shirt, lifting it, showing him what was necessary. Neil smiled, placed a kiss on your forehead, and took over your attempts, taking off the garment and throwing it to the side. Your mind went blank as it always did. Eyes darting to admire and devour what was already familiar. Then, as though caught within a dream, you placed your hand over his heart and met his gaze.

“Is this better?” a hint of a smile upon his lips as Neil pulled you closer.

Despite the need pooling in your veins, the heart let out a painful thump. After everything, it was almost incomprehensible. Him with you like this. Like it always should have been. Overwhelmed with love, you pulled him into a tight hug. The warmth of his skin feeling like a revelation, you hid your face in his neck. Without hesitation, Neil returned the embrace, nuzzling your temple with audible relief. Finally, you knew what home felt like.

“I missed you” the whisper felt almost like a confession of something far more substantial.

And you knew why.

Neil froze. Fuck. You could tell that something was wrong. Worries confirmed when he let out a strange choking sound and released you abruptly. Blood turned cold as the panicked butterflies went into a frenzy. Please no. Before you could read anything from his face, he quickly stood up and turned away from the bed. Muscles tense, shoulders squared. There had to be a solution. Fighting to keep the panic under wraps, you stood up, watching him closely. He was motionless, hands covering his face as he let out strained breaths. Whatever you did caused havoc within his mind. You had to help him. That much was clear. Courage, dear heart. You crossed the space, tentatively reaching out trembling hand to touch his back. Upon the contact, Neil gasped quietly, as if surprised you were still there, willing to solve it. Using the lack of objection as encouragement, you took another step closer and pressed a light kiss between his shoulder blades. Your arms wound around his waist as you closed the remaining gap, resting your head against the firm muscles. After a moment of reluctance, Neil’s hands covered yours. That was all the assurance you needed to ask the critical question:

“What’s wrong?” the emotions weighing down your voice, making it come out hoarse and quiet.

His fingers glided over yours, brushing the knuckles with the care you never dreamt of experiencing. Whatever was bothering him could not taint the truth. Your fragile reality locked within the intimacy of the moment.  Neil took a deep breath, tensing again as though bracing himself against something terrifying. Then he started speaking:

“You deserve an explanation after all that… mess, and yet, here I am trying to…” he trailed off, anxiety and frustration permeating every word.

Your heart cracked upon the realisation. Before you could gather enough words to protest, he continued:

“I worry that I’m pressuring you into this… that I’m asking for too much-” the weariness gnawing at your soul with force.

“Neil, stop,” you cut in sharply, tightening the embrace, “Don’t make it sound like it’s one-sided. I want it too,” your voice wavered as your face warmed up.

Obvious and yet… Admitting it felt like a step too far, like you were the one who could mess it all up by being too eager. The doubts were ready to step in, but you could not let them. Lost in the internal battle, you have not realised when Neil stepped away from the hug and turned to face you. He tilted your chin, making you meet his gaze. Conflict painted across the features you knew by heart. He was nibbling on the bottom lip again, eyes roaming across your face with worry.

“Are you sure?” he breathed out a question, blush tinting his cheeks, “Because it shouldn’t… it wasn’t meant to happen like this”

Briefly, you wondered how was it that neither of you could use the words for this. Actual adult words. But maybe those would come later. You understood his worries, feeling your fears creeping at the edge of the desire and love which took hold of every single cell within your body. There would be time to give them a voice after. Now, all that mattered was Neil and making him understand what you needed. Convincing him that what he tried to stifle was what you wanted. You took one of his hands between your palms, gently rubbing the knuckles:

“We will have to talk, but now… now I want to let go” meeting his gaze purposefully, you let the words fill the tense silence “After weeks of feeling unwanted, I want to forget. To let myself believe that this is real…” unwanted tear welled up in your eye “Only promise I need right now is that this will mean something to you” you finished the sentence, fingers thoughtlessly travelling up his forearms.

There it is. An offer he was free to reject. The only truth that mattered. Somewhere within the past hour, you have realised that you were ready. That no matter the regrets that could follow, you had to give in. Let him have everything should he want it. There would be nothing revolutionary about it, just a natural step on the journey that began months ago in that café in London. Unavoidable.

Neil was watching you closely, catching up on the meaning of things you were not saying. He took a step closer, the struggle slowly giving way to the longing you have seen before. And honesty that could easily murder you with its authenticity. He met your gaze before speaking:

“It will. I want you. And not only now. Not until it happens, but always” you felt like drowning in the boundless adoration you could see in his face “It’s just that I’m terrified of fucking it all up because I care… so much” Neil swallowed hard, frowning at his sentence “Christ, that sounds like a terrible understatement…” with the hand shaking slightly he ruffled the hair, betraying nerves “You’re everything I want. The reason why-”

Oh god. You feared that if he said even a word more, you might just about crumble on the spot. From the excess of love, affection, and disbelief. Each consecutive sentence felt like a stab into your heart. But there was no pain, just too much of everything. You wondered whether it was always supposed to feel like this. Like being on fire. Like the chest bursting from the abundance of passion. You closed the remaining gap, fingers curling around his biceps. Before he could utter that final catastrophic sentence, you whispered:

“Shut up” without waiting for a reaction you pressed your lips against his.

It was your time to lead, pouring everything you felt and could not dare say into the kiss. After a second of reluctance, Neil started kissing you back. The idle hands grasping onto the nape of your neck. Fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you even closer. Small sighs and groans he let out into your mouth kindling the spark. The fix for an addiction you were long due. The sweetest of relapses. The taste of absolution. Infinite potential.

After over a minute, he broke the kiss, gasping for oxygen, eyes clouded with infatuation. It was that look in his face that gave you the courage to reach out for what you needed. You took hold of his hands and breathed out the words that could destroy everything:

“Love me,” unable to meet Neil’s eyes you placed his hands on your hips, “Show me what it’s like to be wanted,” your voice cracked, exposing the storm unfolding inside.

You had to find a way of shutting up the doubts, the uncertainties. Of getting lost in him. Of getting what suddenly seemed just as necessary as water and food.

“I-” he choked out the syllable making your gaze snap up to meet his.

You could see it there. The three words ingrained within the blue eyes, lips parted and ready to proclaim what you could not dare believe. Not yet. Now the confession could kill you, delivering that final blow. He had to understand. It was the only way you could make it work. By acting on the instincts.

That is exactly what you did, rendering Neil speechless with something as simple as a kiss placed on his shoulder. Then more all along the collarbone, taking the sharp inhales and tightening hold over your waist as consent. At times you would let your teeth lightly graze over the skin, reminding him of the potential. Stopping at the sternum, you glanced up, only to be met with Neil’s piercing gaze looking down at you without any guards present. Only unbridled desire and love. Bravery filled your veins as you continued the meticulous exploration. Your hands gently caressed his stomach, tracing the various scars and imperfections. Once you reached the other shoulder, pressing a pious kiss on one of many beauty marks scattered over his skin, Neil lifted your chin. He kissed you on the forehead softly, drawing out a sigh. A thank you for something you would have given him anyway. Then, without breaking the eye contact and making sure you noticed every single emotion visible in his face, he cupped your cheek:

“May I?” one single question whispered with enough certainty to make your heart stumble.

Somehow you knew what he was asking. With blood pounding in your ears, you nodded. Once, curtly, decidedly.

“Yes,” a little breathless, cheeks turning pink.

Anything. Always.

In response, you got one of those smiles that lit up his whole face, making everyone understand why Neil was worth dying for. Without wasting time, he tugged at the borrowed sweater you were wearing and took it off over your head in one swift move. For once you were glad there were no layers. His eyes flitted over your torso covered only with a black sports bra. No judgement or calculation. Just as if he wanted to commit you to memory. As if you were an object of art one could fall in love with. The blush darkened as your breath hitched, awaiting the next move. Neil took a step closer again, a curious glint in his eyes as he leaned down. Featherlike touch all over your chest, followed by gentle kisses on the collarbones and shoulders. You gasped, the softness of his lips contrasting with the scratch of the stubble and the light bites. Testing the waters, returning the favour. You closed your eyes, focusing entirely on the moment, resting your hands on his sides. It felt almost too blissful, slowly making you crave more. Experimentally, you ran your fingers over his pelvic bones, grateful for the low-rise trousers and the possibilities given. Neil finished his study with a kiss on your neck, choosing the spot that always made you shiver with anticipation. You opened your eyes only to be met with a look of adoration:

“Thank you,” his words breaking the heavy silence.

There was something new in his expression. As if now, after everything, he realised that there would be no more hiding. And he was not afraid of whatever would happen. Blind conviction. Belief in you and whatever you had. Afraid of disrupting the moment, you lowered down your voice to ask:

“For what?” your brow furrowed, trying to understand what he meant.

Or why was he suddenly looking at you as though you were the centre of his universe. There was no getting rid of the blush tinting your cheeks. Of the nervous flutters in your stomach and fire flowing in your veins. You knew it would only get worse. Neil watched you closely, a small smile on his lips. Then he finally answered, with more confidence than you could ever deem possible.

“Being extraordinary,” he whispered the words softly, inches away from your mouth.

Oh my god. You did not even try to school the features, showing the boundless extent of shock, disbelief, and astonishment. He meant it; that was undeniable. Your heart stopped for a millisecond, unable to process a compliment like that. Far from a cliché. Exactly what you could need. Before your vicious brain could come up with a disagreement, you closed the gap, expressing how it felt through the kiss. A long, chaotic one that meant you soon lost the coherence and perception of surroundings. Everything was Neil, and Neil was everything. He always gave you his all in those kisses, opening his mouth almost instantly, brushing his tongue against yours. It was as if for him this was a way of getting lost. You could not help but wonder whether he would be like this further down the line too. In desperate need of oxygen, you took the breath from his lungs, earning a muffled groan along the way. You smiled against his mouth, certain that this time you would have the upper hand. An advantage.

That is until you suddenly felt something soft against the back of your legs. The bed. Your brain caught up at the last minute, a small yelp slipping out as Neil pushed you down to perch on the edge of the mattress. How even… Exasperated, you opened your eyes to understand the intentions. That too was a mistake. In a second, you were struck with the sight of Neil deliberately kneeling on the floor at your feet. He met your gaze with a tiny shrug as if you should have expected it to go this way. Any thoughts of blonde bastards and their antics could not win with the overwhelming fondness. He was quite the image. Shirtless, dishevelled, and bewitched. By you, of all people. The devilish glimmer in his stormy eyes added an edge to the look. A fallen angel determined to take you with him. As if you wouldn’t want to take the plunge anyway… On its own accord, your hand darted forward, fingers carding through his long golden strands. His gaze darkened; you could almost see the thoughts swirling, ideas about the next steps. Then, as you cupped his cheek, something clicked. Neil took hold of your palm and angled it to kiss the pulse point. You held your breath, unable to break the eye contact. The hints of a smug smile as his lips trailed down the tracks of your veins, leaving pecks every few inches. You never knew skin could feel like that. Like being ablaze.

As his study neared your upper arms, you could not stop yourself from blurting:

“Why-” the attempt got stopped with a finger against the lips.

“Shush” fuck.

Your eyes widened upon the command. It was the combination of the steel resolve and his low tone that did it. Or so you told yourself as you felt the familiar jolt within the core. Neil’s finger brushed over your mouth, tracing the outline of your lips. He must have noticed the increasing hunger in your eyes, for he grinned and resumed the caress.

You were not sure how the next few developments happened. In one moment, Neil was leaving kisses all over your forearm, leaning over your knees to get access. The next, he was comfortably positioned between your legs, one hand resting atop of your thigh, the other causing shivers all along your stomach with the careful strokes. From this position, he could easily do whatever he wanted. Which he did, his mouth travelling southward of the familiar territory, lips brushing the swell of your breasts and then below the band of the bra. You felt worshipped, seduced with utmost care. Another light kiss over one of the upper ribs was enough to make you whine in frustration you could not control. Neil’s eyes snapped up to your face, taking in the longing and frenzy painted all over. No smile this time, only a soft brush of his lips against yours and then:

“Can we go slowly?” the question was whispered almost shyly, “I want to learn you” to prove the point, his fingers ran down your side, checking the reaction.

You shivered, swallowing hard at the obvious implications behind the question. Somehow the idea that Neil did not mind your slow pace felt too good to be true. No one has ever been that generous before. Not daring to take chances upon him changing his mind, you nodded, lost in the way he was glancing up at you. Undiminished trust and fascination. So much love. Afraid to spill too many words, you retorted quietly:

“You know me pretty well,” the nervous smile tugging at your lips uninvited.

The electrifying mixture of tension and excitement travelling down your veins. You would not wish to be anywhere else, and yet the nerves were there too. A little anxious voice you had to get rid of as soon as possible.

It seemed like Neil had the same idea.

“Not like this,” he smiled softly before leaning down again.

This time he started kissing down your stomach. Each brush of his lips resonating through your body, culminating deep within. Adding on to the pile of issues. All of them relating to the man so religiously caressing your skin. You wondered how much longer you could survive without having to ask him for more. For help. Focusing on the golden mane of hair, you distractedly tangled your fingers in his strands.

“Is that a promise?” barely reaching the end of the question, the breath getting trapped in your throat with a sharp inhale.

Neil stopped right where the band of your trousers met the exposed skin. He glanced up from underneath the long eyelashes. His eyes were dark, filled with a proposition of much more than this. If you were willing to wait.

“It might be…” a murmur and then a gentle kiss on the navel.

You sucked in the remains of oxygen. Oh god. His lips glided over your skin carefully, showing the potential. The knot tightened as you released a shameless moan. Your body felt as though it could go up in flames at any given moment. Neil had other plans, however. He raised his head and stole a quick kiss without giving you a moment to recover. Then he slid down the straps of your bra one by one and reached for the clasp:

“Is it alright if I…?” a tentative question as his fingers trailed over your back.

Insecurities were one thing, the fact that he was waiting until you gave him permission was another. Too generous.

“Yes. You don’t have to ask” breathless, bothered, yet unable to care anymore.

Your dismissal got met with a serious affirmation.

“I always will,” punctuating the sentence with the action he got rid of the garment.

It was different in Oslo. Back then, you were too caught up in the haze to care. Now you felt exposed, seen by the person that mattered most. Neil was openly admiring you with an enigmatic expression in his eyes. That caused a spike of anxiety as you unconsciously started to cover your torso with your arms. Only to be stopped with a firm grasp over your forearm. Shyly, you met his piercing gaze. Your heart was racing, pulse pounding in your ears. There was no going back from this. Not for you. Before your brain could kick into panic, Neil tilted your chin to make sure you saw the adoration in his eyes:

“You’re beautiful” voice full of conviction.

You wanted to believe him, pulling Neil in for another kiss, letting him envelop you in an embrace. The skin on skin. Closer. Almost there but not yet. You still needed more than this. But it had to wait. Getting lost in the kiss was too easy at this point, the only way of making you forget about everything else. Following instincts, you drew him even closer and then fell onto your back on the bed, pulling him with you. Neil broke the contact, breathing hard, pupils blown wide by surprise and want. He stared down at you, speechless.

That is until you grinned, encouraged by the rare advantage. Your bold touch over the front of his trousers was what kicked him back into action. A groan, flash of something dangerous, and a slight change of position so that he could continue the work from earlier. Hands and lips united in one simple purpose – to make you understand that there was no room for self-doubts. It did not take him long to leave you breathless. A mess of gasps and shudders as he covered every inch of your skin in kisses. Light bites only making everything worse twice fold. Helplessly, your fingers scratched his back, urging him to get closer. The pressure was rising steady and strong, every touch of his lips in all the right places reminding you of what you were trying to ignore. Only it was getting more difficult. Following mind of their own, your hands travelled down his sides, fingers hooking under the band of trousers, pulling them down by an inch. Neil raised his head, eyes dark, predatory gleam shining through. His gaze flitted over your face, taking in the flushed cheeks and heavy breaths. Then grinned, satisfied with what he has done to you. Teasing fingers trailing ghostly touches down your navel, never going where you wanted them. Infuriating. Huffing in irritation, you got back to the futile attempt of getting rid of his clothes. Only to be stopped with a smug smile and a hand grabbing yours:

“What is it?” the sparks told you that he knew exactly what was going on.

And yet… Bloody bastard. Before you could articulate the thought, he gave you even more reasons for hatred. His hand ventured between your thighs, rubbing the skin through the fabric, getting closer. That combined with the attention given to your breasts was enough to cause another shock to the system. Your thighs clenched on their own accord, embarrassment and irritation flashing from your eyes. Enough. You knew what to do. What was necessary. And he would have to obey.

“Just… take them off. Please,” the intended force got lost between gasps.

To indicate the meaning, you sharply drew his trousers down, exposing black briefs. Fuck. Shameful blush spreading over your cheeks as you let yourself stare with fascination. It was nothing new, but it felt like it was. You dared not meet Neil’s gaze; it was enough that you felt its weight settled on you without mercy. Unconsciously your curious hand brushed over his navel. The darker trail of hairs, the protruding pelvic bones and-

“Thanks for adding the please there” his chuckle threw you out of the zone as your eyes snapped up.

Way too confident. And satisfied with himself. You considered punching him in the teeth, but that could be anticlimactic. Instead, you did what you wanted as you tentatively skimmed your fingers over his crotch. Just as expected… Swallowing hard, you faced him with the newly found resilience.

“Didn’t want to sound rude,” a cocky tone added in to show you meant it.

The only indication that it worked was in the way he hesitated, a strangled groan escaping through the parted mouth. You repeated the touch, just so he understood.

“Only eager?” the strained voice adding further encouragement.

Suddenly it did not matter how needy you seemed. There was no need to hide it. Getting what you wanted was much more crucial. Not letting a second go wasted, you used your hold over his hips to pull him down.

“…Yes,” lips crashing into his with hunger you did not want to control.

Chaos. Everything all at once. Neil’s hands roaming over your body, tongue entangling with yours. The beginning of the end. Somehow, he managed to lower down your trousers, the movement urging you to break the kiss to finish off what he started. Kicking off the garment, you waited for Neil to do the same, watching the messy moves with a grin on your face. It was good. Hopeful even. As soon as he was done you extended a hand, pulling him back onto the mattress. Using the lack of irritating barriers, you embraced him tightly. Your bodies flush against each other, save for the underwear. That too had to go. Soon. Another turbulent kiss as your hands explored each other, searching for places to worship and study. Lying like this, side by side, tangled in each other, you understood why this was only a natural step. It made so much sense. You took your time, gliding all over his stomach and chest. Fingers tracing the scars. Lips trailing down his neck in reverence. He was a masterpiece, and he ought to be treated like one. Neil kept on kissing you, taking all that you were offering, slowly inching down your stomach with careful caress. Then, as he bit your lip, drawing out a moan, his hand palmed your underwear. Christ. One flash of surprise in those blue eyes told you what you knew already. It was bad. Soaked fabric clinging to your skin, increasing the frenzy. Answering the unasked question, you let him get rid of the panties; insecurities and uncertainty nowhere to be found. Slowly Neil shifted so that he had you pinned beneath him again. Hand brushing over the navel, jolts of electricity travelling down your veins at the simplest of touches. As his fingers dipped between the folds, you could only shudder, helplessly staring back into his eyes. There was no pretending.

“Christ, you’re so-” the raspy voice causing an additional wave of sensations.

Without finishing the sentence, he searched your face for something. His hand backtracked, traces of shame preventing you from looking at the mess you have made already. Forcing the brain to cooperate, you breathed out a question:

“Are you surprised?” you stared up at Neil with confidence you did not feel.

Whatever was bound to happen would probably kill you. That much was expected. The relentless throbbing between your legs only reminding you about the evident fact – you had it bad for Neil. And he knew that, eyes slowly roaming across your naked body, taking in everything new and about to be claimed. In the flesh this time. Finally.

“No,” Neil offered you a confident smirk, hand delving between your thighs once again without warning, “But this is still very… gratifying” lazily, his fingers parted the folds, collecting some of the wetness.

You huffed, attempting to force him to do more than that. To act. But to no avail. The satisfied look on his face was frustrating.

The fire in the pit of your stomach was building steadily, increasing with every passing second. You had to do something. To have him. Ideally. At the moment, it seemed like the matter of life and death. Everything else be damned.

“I’m glad I can amp up your ego,” managing to string together a coherent sentence, your hands settled on his hips, pulling him down again.

Your lips met in a sloppy kiss, your hazed brain barely able to keep up the rhythm. Using the distraction, you threw your leg over his hip, bringing your lower body flush with his. A clear signal.

But he, naturally, had other plans.

“Not yet. That has to wait a little” Neil pushed you back down, a visible frown etched between the furrowed eyebrows.

Oh for fuck’s sake. You let out a frustrated groan and leaned back to study his expression. You knew enough to know that he was more than ready. The front of his briefs told you as much. But torturous bastards always had to know better.

“Why? You-” your protest got stopped with a kiss you could not deny him.

Those never got boring. Each one bringing a new wave of need and desire. Your whole being focused on him and what you could receive. It never felt quite like this with anyone else.

Neil broke the contact, cupping your cheek tenderly:

“Yes, but first I want to take care of you,” terrifying depth of affection in his eyes doing nothing to extinguish the burning fire, “As you deserve. Like I promised in that one alley in Tallinn,” the telling smirk bringing back the memories with force.

Oh my god. The implication made you gasp loudly, widening his grin in the process. Of course you remembered that one promise. The specifics of what he wanted to do. The thought itself was enough to make you shiver, thighs clenching tightly. Before you could articulate how that proposition made you feel, he added:

“Don’t worry, the mess I’ll make out of you will only help me in this situation” a flash of the devil in the beautiful face and then a kiss laid with astonishing gentleness on your forehead.

Fuck. The shock must have painted on your face for Neil grinned, a tip of the tongue poking between the teeth like a bait. An enticement. As though you would need any of that. Without waiting for a further reaction, he started leaving kisses down your body.

“You’re...” he got as far as the sternum before you could choke out the word.

One of your hands tightened on the bedsheets, knowing well that what will happen will need holding on. A shiver ran down your spine when he reached that well-explored spot on the navel. Neil looked up, eyes dark and merciless:

“What?” a hand running up your thigh, prodding you to part your legs for him.

Like you had a choice. Forcing out a word seemed like a godly feat, and so you settled on the simplest of them:

“Insane,” spitting it out with intended strength, making sure he heard the frustration.

He did. The trademark smirk confirmed it. His hand travelled up your body in a purposeful caress. The learning did not take long; he already knew how to take you apart.

“I’ll show you what insanity feels like” the remark fell upon your fogged up conscience like a guillotine.

Any further words got trapped in your throat as he leaned down again, kissing down the navel, eyes searching yours for consent. A fervent nod had to do.

It was hard to prepare for. Your cheeks were burning as you watched the blonde head bowing between your thighs. For a second, the panicked voice wanted to remind you that this was a potentially life-ruining mistake. That you were letting Neil have it all. That it could end badly. The voice was silenced with a flash of lightning as you felt the offensive tongue part your lips in an exploratory move. Your fingers tightened on the material, the other hand instinctively grabbing onto Neil’s hair. He groaned upon the sensation, the vibrations making you buck your hips into his face. As though he was expecting that, he slung his arm over your thighs, keeping them in place. Keeping you helplessly spread out for the act. He began slowly, giving you all the time to get used to the thrill. It took less than a minute for you to start writhing under his strong hold, pathetic moans piercing the silence. As expected, Neil knew what to do. How to destroy you with the use of his mouth alone. His lips slowly enveloped your heat, free hand finding yours and lacing the fingers together. A grateful sigh escaped your throat, thumb brushing against his knuckles in appreciation. It only got worse then. The coil tightened. A peril of sweat appearing on your brow as the heat kept rising. Just when you thought you could hold on a little longer, Neil switched the technique, delving the tip of the tongue in. Christ. You yanked on the golden strands, showing how well that was working. He chuckled, the low sound making everything even worse. He kept on confidently penetrating the most sacred of places. Mindless of your forceful tugs on his hair or the cries you could not hold in.

Soon it became a losing game. You could only interweave curses in between moans and gasps. You were sure you were close to crushing his hand with the strength of your grasp, tightening upon every single move he made. There was no mercy here. Just the most primal of needs taking over everything else. As Neil directed all of his attention onto being the sole reason for your downfall, one persistent thought appeared in your hazed brain. You wanted him. To feel him everywhere. To chase that high and then claim it with him. His tongue expertly flicked against your clit. A whimper. Hips rocking forward on their own accord. More. All of the words getting stuck in your throat as he started lapping at your heat, taking everything you could offer. Like you were his object of unconditional adoration. As though giving you the pleasure was everything he wanted. A tiny voice in your brain reminded you again of the burning need. You were sure to lose sanity if this continued. Absolution needed and necessary. But not like this. It had to be with him. Feeling the end approach with the speed of light, you brushed your thumb over his knuckles and used the hold over his hair to bring needed attention.

“Neil… don’t…” the ability to speak was long gone, heavy breaths interrupting the intended sentence.

He raised his head, the glistening lips catching your attention with an additional spark of electricity within the veins. Oh god. He licked them unconsciously you shuddered, unable to look away. Fascination almost as good as what he was doing. Almost.

“Why? You haven’t-” his eyebrows furrowed as though completely lost on you.

You wanted to show him. To make him understand. But it was increasingly hard to do with the fire consuming your body and unresolved frustration nipping at the core. Insanity like no other. Speechless, incoherent, you forced the words out:

“Not without you” surely he could not miss the longing in your eyes.

You could point out the exact moment your word sank in. Neil’s pupils widened; lips parted a little letting out a sharp gasp. The blue eyes showing you boundless infatuation and astonishment as though your desires were unexpected. Swallowing hard, he found the voice:

“… Jesus, you-” a gulp, unable to finish the sentence and then a flash of something strange “Are you sure? Because we don’t have to. I can-” oh no.

Not this time.

“Neil” cutting in sharply, you made sure to show him the extent of urgency through the look in your eyes, “Please, I need you” as simple as that; the regrets would come later “I can’t- Don’t deny me that” you raised his chin, thumb brushing over the lips.

Collecting the remains of your fall from grace. Nothing else mattered. Neil looked as though what you said has crushed his heart. He moved back up to face you, careful hands leaving caresses along the way with breath-taking precision. As his eyes met yours, he breathed out the confession:

“I love-” not yet.

You took the words off his mouth with a kiss, tasting yourself in the process. It had to wait. This moment had to be about getting lost, about letting go of everything that was weighing you down. Words like those could only bring harm. Letting go, you whispered the explanation:

“Tell me after,” a resolve to break down his doubts.

It worked if that half-smile was anything to go by. He seemed to consider something quickly before shifting to a kneeling position above you. Following the simplest of needs, your hand darted forward, courageous fingers tracing down his stomach. Stopping at the familiar scar, you mused:

“You never told me why you did that” there was no need to clarify the meaning his eyes met yours with clear understanding.

And something else. A faint laugh as if Neil was amused you have not caught up with the obvious just yet. And then a glimmer of joy, looking down upon you with fondness:

“You’ll know… after,” he grinned, using your moment of confusion to take off the final piece of clothing.

It took your brain an additional second to catch up with everything. After… could that mean- And then, distracted by the thoughts too good to be true, your eyes landed on him again. Only to be shocked by the picture. Your reckless quip from a few days previously coming back to haunt you with vengeance. Compensating for something… yeah, no. A nervous chuckle built up in your throat as you bit down on your lip, unable to tear your eyes away. Not that you expected anything different. Someone this beautiful was ought to be also… lucky. Slowly shaking off the paralysis, you met Neil’s eyes. He was observing you with something akin to uncertainty. As though he had a reason to doubt himself. You took his hand in yours, murmuring:

“Come here,” a faint pull to give him back the confidence.

A flash of a grateful smile as he tumbled back into your arms. Carefully, you wrapped him in a tight hug, your racing hearts beating in the same tempo. Finally getting what you have been craving for so long felt strange. Almost unreal. But it was real, and so you let yourself breathe him in, hands caressing the skin slowly, with purpose. After a moment of quiet tenderness, you leaned back, cupping his cheek, you gazed into his eyes. Nothing to hide, only all of the feelings that you did not dare put into words just yet. Hope, love, faith. With the courage kindling within your heart, you allowed yourself to explore all that he revealed. The simplest of touches darkening his pupils, the hold over your waist tightening. A sigh here, tremble there. Enough to make you braver, kissing down his throat, fingers continuing their dance. Giving him back all of the pleasure and attention. Even if it was only a quarter of what he deserved.

Suddenly Neil tipped your chin, forcing an end to your ministrations, a hint of something strange in his eyes. That same uncertainty. Hesitation. Your chest tightened; heart unable to process the meaning without risking another crack. Finding words, you asked:

“Are you nervous?” gently, you ran your hands over his chest.

Feeling the steady beat beneath the fingertips, the warmth of his body giving security and protection from whatever could harm you. Home. The gratefulness in his eyes increasing the feelings.

“A little…” a hint of an insecure smile, “This is you and-”

Oh. A tiny pinprick of pain resonating through your heart. It never occurred to you that he could be anxious. Because of you, at that. But there was no need to be, no expectations to match up against. All you needed was for Neil to be there, to lose the inhibitions and just let it go.

“It’s only me” interjecting, you added the necessary emphasis “Nothing to worry about” a reassuring squeeze of hand as you made sure to show him the conviction in your eyes “I’ve got you” ending on a whisper, you offered him a small smile.

Before you could process anything, Neil kissed you hungrily, pouring all of the words into the act. It was gratitude and acceptance. As if what you said was exactly what he needed. Only once there was no breath left, he broke the contact, pressing his forehead against yours. Eyes boring into yours with unspoken confessions. And then, as though a switch has flipped, he allowed his hands to resume the familiar moves. Slowly building back up the tension, showing you that there were no more doubts. That was the needed cue to give you back the boldness, studying Neil with the necessary detail. You never knew it was possible to get so lost in something as straightforward as touch, the feeling of naked skin, the look in each other’s eyes. Maybe that’s what love should be.

As though sensing your changing mood, Neil searched your face before following the gentle pull of your hand towards where you needed him most. Just to show how bad it was. How urgent it felt. The flash of understanding in his eyes told you he knew what to do. A sigh escaped your lips as he carefully parted your folds with the fingers. The slow movement, teasing and preparing for what was to come. Letting go felt easy, effortless even. Listening to the most basic instincts, you used the hand that was not tangled in his hair to keep Neil wanting more. To remind him about his desires. Hiss in an answer was gratifying, making your lips twist in a smirk. It was good to know you held power too. Before you could become even more daring, Neil met your eyes with dangerous sparks in his gaze. It could only get worse. And you were right. Retracting his hand from between your thighs, he raised his fingers to his lips and licked them clean. Never breaking the eye contact; a rogue smile making everything worse. Fuck. A violent jolt shook your core at the sight. Bastard. A strangled groan escaped through your lips, frustration rising at the self-satisfied face expression.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” you rasped out, showing him the extent of annoyance through the look in your eyes.

A contradicting hand tracing invisible confession onto his back. The words would come soon enough there was no doubt about it.

“Don’t be so dramatic” Neil flashed you the happiest of grins.

Of course. With a ridiculous laugh bubbling in your throat, you stared back at the blonde man, overwhelmed with every emotion on the spectrum. Too much and yet not enough. Now.

“You’re an idiot” tipping his chin you captured his lips in a short kiss.

The relief and devotion in the blue eyes were palpable.

“Yours though,” he cupped your cheek, a soft smile lightening up his face.

With the three words on the tip of your tongue, you whispered the command:

“Show me” the resolution in your eyes aiming to tell him all that you could not express.

Neil nodded, placing a final kiss on your forehead, and shifted to hover above you. The nervous flutters in the pit of your stomach slowly getting consumed by something else. Need, conviction. It was simple. Never breaking the eye contact, your hands ran up his back to tangle the fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll be gentle” a whisper passed from his lips to yours coupled with a kiss.

Finally. A flood of feelings threatening to overspill at any given moment. There was only one answer.

“I know,” the affirmation swallowed by a sigh as Neil covered your body with his.

Easy. Then it was almost natural. A gasp from your mouth mixing with his sharp inhale. Lips brushing but not quite kissing. Your fingers digging into his shoulders, bruising the skin. It felt right somehow. Good. Neil slowly inched in, giving you time to adjust. One of his hands tenderly cradled your head, thumb caressing the flushed cheek. His eyes locked on yours without a second of exemption. Assurance and affection.

Once you could feel him inside you completely, a nod was all he needed. Slow thrusts, building up a rhythm. Kisses interrupting the shuddered breaths. Your hand found Neil’s again, interlacing the fingers and pinning your joined palms to the bed. The feeling of his pulse alongside yours was like a revelation. The closeness you have craved for so long was finally within your reach. He was yours. With the fire steadily building up, you bucked your hips to meet him halfway. An answering moan was good encouragement to do it again. And again, matching his pace. And then speeding up. No words were found for any of this. Instead, you kept on gazing into his eyes, letting your breaths match and mingle in the space between. The unguarded look telling him all he needed to know. The feeling in your chest letting you know that there is no coming back from this.

It was the sudden wish to get even closer that prompted you to change the angle. Hoisting your leg over his hip, and then the other. Crossing them over his back, bringing your pelvis flush against his. A telling guttural groan and the darkening pupils told you it was the right move. The chaos that followed was expected. With the different position, it did not take Neil long to find the spot that made you cry out in pleasure. Your fingers scratched his back, nails tearing at the skin, claiming him in the darkened room. He kissed you roughly, lips bruising yours without traces of moderation. That was no longer necessary. You knew it would not take long. The string tightening and straining. The fire within your veins raging and consuming. Soon.

As Neil upped the tempo, your laced fingers untangled to resume the abandoned caress. Your fingers were trailing over his back with increased urgency. Mindless of the bruises and scratches, you wanted to mark him for good. Your heart was close to bursting with the amount of love, the excess pouring out with every sigh and kiss. You peppered kisses all over his neck and shoulder, using the newly found closeness to adore him in new ways. It felt perfect, pleasure swallowing every thought and idea. Till it was just Neil, his hands cradling your body, his warmth keeping you safe. Simple, primal even. As you responded to his forceful thrust with a circular movement, he met your gaze again. Eyes dark, the blue hazed with lust and adoration. Lips parted to let out quiet moans and gasps. The unspoken confessions passed through your locked gazes. Waiting felt worth it. Even if for moments like this when you knew that giving yourself away was the only logical solution. You were his no matter what, this act only signing off the fact.

It was a long kiss that he gave you then that tipped the scales. The heat became unbearable, so many words getting stuck in your throat. Urgency causing you to lose the rhythm, fingers digging into his biceps for support. Your muscles clenching around him on their own accord. The edges of your vision darkened, helplessly meeting his questioning gaze.

“Neil…” a half sigh, just enough to let him know.

A whimper interrupted whatever else you could want to tell him as he reached down between your bodies. The additional pressure placed on your clit to make sure you could get what you needed. The gratefulness passed on a louder moan, fingers tangling in his hair, bringing him closer. Close enough to whisper in his ear:

“You’re mine,” just like that.

That was all you were capable of afore the world exploded before your eyes.

“Only yours,” the affirmation falling on your ears like liberation.

Nothing else was needed. Your muscles tightened, clinging to Neil as though that was everything you were able to do. A sharp cry breaking the silence. Absolution. Everything leading up to this, the moment itself worth every second pain. The ultimate sacrifice in the name of love. You could see it in his eyes, drinking in your downfall with undivided attention. Strained breaths and chaotic movement telling you he was not far behind. Using the last sparks of the high he brought you to, you captured his lips in a slow kiss.

That was the needed push for Neil. He moaned your name, forehead pressing to yours as his eyes screwed shut. His body stiffened and then relaxed with a groan, holding you close. Recovering from the experience, you embraced him tightly, offering any comfort you could think of as he trembled, riding out the high within your arms. The vulnerability of the moment striking you with an unexpected wave of feelings. There was nothing beyond this for people who were not even together. A little voice in your head suggested that perhaps now you were. That maybe this was it. Before you could pay it more attention, Neil raised his head, eyes meeting yours with a haze still darkening the pupils. There was something new in his expression. Relief, certainty, as if nothing could sway him anymore. As if his creed came true, and he did not need any proof. You cupped his cheek, drawn in by the sight he presented. Blush tinting the cheekbones, golden hair falling into his eyes. Gaze focused only on you. And…

“I love you,” the words interrupting the silence with their clarity.

Your pulse picked up, heart hammering in your chest as though triggered by the confession. Speechless, you stared at Neil, trying to find an answer. But the small smile upon his lips told you he was not looking for a response. It was only a formality, just as you asked. To be told after. Now. It could not be… but it was. It was real, he was real, his heart belonging to you just like yours was his.

With the facts slowly sinking in, you pulled him down into another long kiss. As a way of saying all that you could not just yet. As an acceptance. Lips moving in sync, unrestrained, and entirely open to one another. As Neil broke away, breath ghosting your mouth, nose brushing against yours, you stared right back, unable to stop the worry from voicing its problems:

“I can’t-” say it.

Because you could not. Not with the heart bruised and shattered. Not with the fire still burning in your veins. If it was the right one at last, then it had to be proper. As though sensing your growing unease, Neil interrupted you, soft sparks in his eyes:

“It’s okay,” gently brushing his thumb along your reddened cheek, “There’s time,” finishing off with a kiss on the forehead.

Without waiting for you to find the needed words, he slid off your body, settling on the side with a quiet, contented sigh. You glanced at him curiously, desperate for a distraction from the sudden onslaught of feelings and thoughts. What if you’ve fucked it? What if he wanted you to leave? What if-

The monologue of qualms got cut short with an arm encircling your waist and pulling you closer to him again. The intense gaze searching your face before he tightened the hold and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. The tenderness could be lethal. With your heart racing, tongue threatening to spill everything it has been forced to hold back for months, you fought for clarity. Anything. And then… maybe this was okay. Maybe this was it. Sparks of hope triggering the playfulness you have dearly missed:

“Am I not allowed to leave?” eyeing him with an arched eyebrow, fingers idly tracing symbols onto his chest.

The warmth and the steady heartbeat everything you could need to anchor in the moment. The mirth in his eyes telling you that too was requited.

“I’d rather you didn’t…” he trailed off, the flash of something darker in his gaze making you breathless “I… I might have some plans for later,” he added, one of the hands stroking your thigh deliberately.

Right… You could only blame that sudden wave of excitement on his charm. And the look in his eyes, suggesting that this was not the end. That he wanted more. The idea alone made you shudder.

“Christ… Neil, you-” ignoring the satisfied smirk, you stared at him in feigned exasperation.

His grin widened, fingers teasingly running up and down your stomach causing the butterflies to awaken. Not that they had a longer break…

“Yes, my love?” picking up your open-ended frustration, Neil traced the outline of your lips, bruised and swollen from the multitude of kisses.

My love. The endearment on its own was enough to shut up the potential doubts. Unable to stop the grin from spreading on your face, you buried your face in his chest.

“… I see how it is,” your murmur triggering a low chuckle as he pulled you even closer.

You took it slow then. More breathless kisses, hands tangling in hair, sighs, and silent confessions taking up the non-existent space between your bodies. Once kisses and touches stopped being enough for either of you, Neil gave you the control with desire burning bright in his eyes. You claimed him again, making sure he could not forget it even if he ever wanted to. What you received in return assured you that your heart would never let go. It could not. Falling asleep after everything was almost too easy. For once, no fears creeping in the darkness. No regrets gnawing at your heart. Only the steady pulse, a hand holding onto yours, fingers gently caressing your skin. A promise of home.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil x reader #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

[chrwrites]

On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers 250 Follower Celebration, I picked prompt #25 from 50 Wordless ways to say "I love you": Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

warnings: Implied sexual content and fade to black

read on ao3

If there was something Luka Couffaine hated doing, that was doing the laundry.

Hanging the clothes out to dry wasn’t much of a problem, just like ironing or putting them away didn't bother him. But sorting through the clothes and separating them according to different fabrics and their colours? That was something he couldn’t do.

No matter how hard he tried, or how many times the amazing fashion designer he was dating showed him how to wash clothes the correct way and was patient enough to repeat herself countless times, Luka would always manage to mess something up.

Why couldn’t he just put all the clothes in the washing machine with some detergent and softener and just start it like he had always done before he started living with Marinette, anyway? The clothes came out fine.

Except, Marinette didn't think the same when he accidentally got her favorite sweater to shrink three sizes, and she officially discharged him from doing this annoying chore after she came home to find Luka struggling with yarn and knitting needles, trying to follow some online tutorial that would help him make her a new sweater to replace the one he damaged.

But now that Marinette would be away for a month, Luka didn't have the heart to let the clothes pile up and give her more work to do when she came back. He had to take care of it.

He sighed as he resentfully loaded the washing machine, only looking at his white clothes to make sure he didn't pick anything that would get them stained. He was almost finished when his hand landed on a small red garment that was definitely not his and distracted him from his task, the memories of the wonderful night spent after taking that small piece of clothing off his girlfriend flooding his mind.

God, he missed her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing in the other room, and he scrambled to put the rest of the clothes inside the washing machine before he went to answer.

Marinette's cheerful voice greeted him, and Luka couldn't control the smile forming on his lips as soon as he heard her, “Hello, love. How's Milan treating you?”

He listened as she rambled about her day and told him about the challenges she had to face while working in another city, but the happiness and excitement in her voice made him smile along with her. He went back to the bathroom to set the washing machine in what he hoped was the right way, and started it.

“But enough talking about me,” Marinette said from the other side of the phone, ”I want to know what you've been up to.”

“Well,” Luka sighed, “Nothing much. Still working on the album. I've been trying to write, playing… Missing my muse...”

Marinette’s soft giggle rang in his ears, making his heart stutter the same way it did when they first met, “Aw, I miss you too,” she said, “I'll be back soon.”

“I know, it’s just not soon enough.”

“It’s only another week,” Marinette reminded, “then I’ll be back and I’ll be all yours.”

“I can’t wait.”

Smiling to himself, Luka set his phone down and grabbed his notebook and guitar. He settled on the couch and let the sudden rush of inspiration flow through his fingers to form a soft gentle melody that could do his love for Marinette justice.

He was so lost in the music that he forgot about the world around him, and when he heard a beep coming from the other room he jumped from the couch. He groaned when he realized that it was the washing machine signaling it was done, leaned his head to the back of the couch and closed his eyes to get his focus on the music back. The laundry could wait a little longer. But the beautiful rush of creativity that had previously caught him didn't seem to want to come back. Luka let out a helpless sigh and set his guitar aside, getting up to reach the source of the sound that disrupted his creative process.

Marinette had gotten so excited the first time she realized that their new washer also made sounds, and Luka still teased her for that sometimes. She would do a happy little dance whenever he heard the machine beeping, and as much as Luka loved to see her excited, he kinda hated that the stupid thing made sounds. What was the point of having a silent washing machine when it beeped when it was done?

So that you don't forget it, dummy.

The voice in his head sounded an awful lot like Marinette's, and it reminded him of his girlfriend getting up whenever that silly sound interrupted what they were doing. One moment, Marinette was resting her head on his shoulder, absently playing with Luka's hands as he hummed a soft melody in her ear; then, as soon as that damned washer beeped, she would abandon him.

“Can't it just wait?” he'd ask, and Marinette would laugh and tell him that they couldn't leave the clothes in the washing machine for long, “Otherwise they'll stink. I know, I know," he'd complain before lazily following her so that they could go back to what they were doing sooner.

“I swear, sometimes it looks like you love doing the laundry more than you love me.”

“You know that’s not true! I love doing you much more,” Marinette teased, making Luka struggle to keep his composure while he helped her hang the clothes, “You’ll be the death of me.”

Well, Marinette was going to kill him for real now.

Much to his horror, the first items he pulled out of the washing machine had turned a soft shade of pink.

“Shit,” Luka muttered under his breath. He pulled out more clothes, only to find that they all suffered from the same fate of the first ones. His t-shirts, his socks, his boxers were all pink.

How could that happen? He had paid attention this time, didn't he?

He sighed, tossing the now pink, old and ragged Jagged Stone t-shirt he didn't have the heart to throw away (much to Marinette’s annoyance) in the basket. At least he didn’t wash any of Marinette’s clothes, so he didn't have to worry about hearing her yell at him from another country for ruining her clothes as well. Maybe this time she would laugh when he’d tell her what happened to his clothes. Either way, there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He pulled out the last pieces from the washing machine, sighing when he found what caused his clothes to turn pink. Marinette’s polka dotted slips were of an apparently harmless bright red despite having tinted everything around them. At least it wasn’t totally his fault, he could blame it on his girlfriend’s underwear, couldn't he?

Marinette would have called him stupid and it would have ended there.

He let out a helpless sigh, opting not to try to find a solution for turning half of his wardrobe pink and hanging the clothes to dry instead.

What was some more pink in his life, anyway? His girlfriend was the epitome of pink and pretty, and he loved her for that. Even if he had to convince her not to buy all the pink home appliances she could find for their new apartment. She would complain, and he would kiss her adorable little pouts away before they went on looking for what they needed to make their new apartment feel like home. Two months living together and he still felt a little thrill of excitement whenever he was reminded that he was sharing the roof with the love of his life.

He couldn't really complain about some more pink in his life. He loved it.

Marinette greeted Luka with the warmest smile when she found him waiting for her at the airport. She ran into his arms, Luka’s chuckle ringing in her ear as he caught her and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They shared a long, sweet kiss.

He shivered when Marinette pulled away, his eyes still half lidded as he settled her down. Marinette traced slow patterns on his chest, biting down a teasing smile when she looked up at him, “Is this new? Pink really suits you,” she said, making Luka smile before he leaned for another kiss.

When they got home, his lips left hers only for the amount of time they needed to catch their breath. Luka ignored Marinette's gasp as he let her suitcase fall ungraciously on the floor and led her to the couch. She giggled when she fell on top of him and Luka’s arm wrapped around her.

“I missed you so much,” Marinette whispered, her bluebell eyes locking into his. His free hand reached to thumb her cheekbone, “Me too,” Luka said slowly.

Marinette snuggled close to his chest, her hand absently drawing patterns on his arm while Luka left soft kisses on her head from time to time, his hand brushing through her hair. They stood in comfortable silence, basking in each other's presence after so long of not being able to, sharing soft kisses and quiet laughs. 

Luka held her tighter, closing his eyes as he inhaled her sweet scent. Finally, their apartment felt like home again.

It was much later, when Marinette shifted and slipped away from his arms that Luka groaned, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t go,” he whined, stretching his arms to grab her waist and pull her closer, “I didn't get enough of you.”

Marinette giggled, “When did you ever?” she asked rhetorically.

“Never?” Luka grinned proudly.

Marinette rolled her eyes, playfully slapping the hand resting on her hip. 

“I really have to unpack,” she said, struggling to be serious when she saw Luka’s pout, “Stay with me, please?” he asked.

Marinette managed to shim out of his hold and blew him a kiss before disappearing behind the door. Luka let out a lovesick sigh, getting up from the couch to follow her into their bedroom. 

“Thought you might need some help,” he said casually as Marinette opened her suitcase and took out her clothes.

“Just say you can’t stay away from me for one second,” Marinette teased. 

“Can you blame me?” Luka shrugged, “I have the most amazing girl by my side, and I want to–

Luka interrupted himself mid-sentence, noticing how Marinette's expression shifted into a frown when she opened the closet.

She put her clothes away, only to rummage a bit longer in the closet to pull out two pink t-shirts from Luka's side of the closet. 

She suppressed a giggle as she turned to look at his boyfriend, whose expression dropped.

“How come half of your closet has turned pink?” Marinette asked, letting the amused tone in her voice speak for her. 

“I…” Luka rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Marinette raised an eyebrow as an invitation for him to confirm her suspicions, and Luka sighed in defeat.

“Fine, I messed up the laundry,” he could feel his cheeks grow warm at the confession, and he braced himself for any reaction from her.

“No way, I thought you got Rose so mad that she decided to colour all your clothes pink,” Marinette giggled, “Not that I'm complaining, you know how much I like pink, and it looks really good on you.”

“Oh really? You're not mad at me for messing up the laundry again?” he asked.

“It depends…” Marinette said, crossing her arms when she got up, “Tell me, Luka, did you ruin any of my clothes?”

Luka gulped, despite knowing he had nothing to worry about, Marinette looked quite menacing when things didn't go her way, “No.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, satisfied with his answer, and closed the distance between them wrapping her arms around his neck, “I can fix these,” she said, eyeing at the clothes she dropped on the floor, but Luka shook his head.

“You don't have to.” 

“What?” Marinette asked, frowning in confusion.

“I wanted to take care of it so you didn’t have too much stuff to do when you came back. I don't want you to add more work to your list because of me,” Luka's thumb grazed her cheek gently. “Besides,” he added, his hands moving to her hips to pull her closer, “I like pink.”

Marinette smirked, “Don’t you think it will ruin your image, rockstar ?”

Luka shook his head, his smile brushing her lips, “Screw image, pink is very rock and roll.”

“That's why I like it so much,” Marinette's soft giggle died in her mouth when he kissed her, and she tilted her head to welcome him fully, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Her hands made their way down his chest, pulling at the hem of his t-shirt, “As much as I like pink…” she purred, moving her lips to his ear and making Luka shiver, “I think you'd look better with this off...”

Luka didn't find Marinette sleeping in the bed next to him when he woke up. He yawned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before he got up and followed the unmistakable clattering of pans coming from the kitchen.

Marinette was standing near the stove, wearing nothing but the pink t-shirt he wore the previous night as she stirred something in a bowl.

He leaned against the door frame, not daring to disturb her and admiring her from his position instead. She was humming while she got the breakfast ready, a habit she picked from him, and Luka felt a familiar warmth spread in his chest. Sometimes he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that Marinette was really there by his side and loved him just as much as he loved her. Her sole presence lit up the darkest of corners, and Luka was lucky enough to be able to watch her shine without her light hurting his eyes. 

She squeaked when his hands squeezed her hips and he pulled her back against his chest, “Luka!” she scolded when he left a quick kiss on the exposed skin on her shoulder. He smiled and made her spin around so that she could face him, his ocean eyes bright with admiration. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Luka whispered, his voice still groggy from sleep.

Marinette let out a small laugh and put some distance between them to look up at him, “My hair is a mess, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet. You're only saying this because I'm wearing your clothes,” she countered playfully.

Luka chuckled and leaned in, “Not true, I'm saying this because I love you,” he whispered before pecking her lips, “And also because pink looks great on you.”

He kissed her again, deeper this time, making Marinette sigh on his lips before she reluctantly pulled away, “I love you too, but could we not have burned pancakes for breakfast?”

#lukanette #lbsc 250 followers celebration #Endgame Lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng

[cole-grey-writes]

Brown Hair Braided

Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Timeline: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Character(s): Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Pairing(s): Stucky x Male Reader

Warning(s): tooth rotting fluff

Request: Hi king!! Your writing is amazing! I’d love to request a cuddly stucky x boyfriend reader. Bonus points for extra snuggly long haired Bucky and Steve and the reader playing with his hair.

A/n: WOW so sorry this took me a while to get up. I was busy with online classes and homework, all that shit. and if anyone is interested to know, i finished applying to my first college (yeah cutting it suuuper short but fuck im a procrastinator). I really hope you enjoy this fic. Keep sending in your requests, i really like writing for you guys!

You sit at the desk that sits in your bedroom, doing some last minute paperwork before the weekend. You’re startled from your focus and analytical thoughts when you get a frantic text from one of your boyfriends, Steve. You smile.

It's been a couple years since you had started going out with Steve but it still feels like you two were in the honeymoon phase. Steve brings a smile to your face at even the slightest mention of him. Although, you’re a little confused as to why Steve didn’t just call you. It’s what he usually prefers to converse with you while you are away from each other, Steve having told you it had something to do with liking to hear your voice. You chose not to dig further to spare Steve’s already tomato red face from exploding.

You turn away from your computer and small stack of papers, picking up your phone just as the screen lights up with another text.

Steve [5:23 p.m.]    Y/N Y/N Y/N

Steve [5:23 p.m.]    HEY

Steve [5:24 p.m.]    ANSWER

You snort, wondering what Steve seems so excited about.

You [5:24 p.m.]    what

Steve [5:23 p.m.]    BUCK IS COMING HOME

You’re immediately sitting up straight, smile spreading even wider. You now understand why Steve had chosen to text you, probably embarrassed to start loudly squealing over their boyfriend coming home while in his place of work.

Bucky was your other boyfriend, something you wouldn’t have believed if you were to bring it up with your past self. This is mostly due to the almost palpable tension between the two of you when you and Bucky officially met about a year prior.

You, Steve, Sam, and occasionally Natasha, had been trailing after Bucky all over Europe for a few months. Bucky must have been slowly rebuilding himself during that time because he had suddenly stopped running right before you were going to hit the four (4) month mark.

You didn’t understand where all the awkwardness had been coming from. For all you knew, you were just looking for Steve’s childhood best friend, one of the only people to still remain from Steve’s old life. That was, until Sam and Natasha started making offhand comments about how deep Steve and Bucky’s friendship seemed to run (you honestly didn’t and don’t blame either of them for the new wave of insecurities that flooded your mind, you and Steve having agreed to keep the relationship, which you started only a few weeks before the reveal of HYDRA’s secret operations inside SHIELD, you started a secret until you two became more comfortable).

Everything made sense after that. It was understandable that you and Bucky had a fragile relationship in the beginning. And it really was only in the beginning. It didn’t take long before you and Bucky started bonding over your shared love for Steve and it didn’t take long after that before something started forming between the three of.

You [5:25 p.m.]    !!!!!

You [5:26 p.m.]    OMG

You [5:26 p.m.]    REALLY?!?

Steve [5:26 p.m.]    YES!

Steve [5:26 p.m.]    we need to hurry he’s on the way home rn

You [5:26 p.m.]    oH UM

You [5:27 p.m.]    i’m home rn

You [5:27 p.m.]    i can set up everything here

Steve [5:27 p.m.]    good!!

Steve [5:27 p.m.]    i can get dinner and dessert on my way home

You [5:27 p.m.]    perfect

Steve [5:28 p.m.]    ok 123 brEAK

You snort at Steve’s comedic antics as you push yourself away from your desk and away from your work. You know that you'll have to finish those at some point before monday. You’ll most likely be doing it late sunday night due to the fact that you’re going to be completely preoccupied with your boyfriends all weekend because it's been a few weeks since all three of you have been together.

This is obviously due to your hectic work schedules, Steve stuck with what was left of SHIELD, unofficially of course, doing top secret secret agent missions. Bucky had joined him in that soon after he was cleared for it. You, on the other hand, have a very typical and boring office job, a job that has become very demanding as of late with your boss giving out extra paperwork around your floor.

But, you don’t have to worry about that at the moment, you remind yourself. That thought spurs you into moving around your apartment, an apartment that you’ve been sharing with your boyfriends for a couple of months now. You note this fact with a small surge of glee inside your head as you rush to your closet where you keep all your blankets at.

You pull out the blankets you have, which is quite a lot, a fact you’re slightly embarrassed to admit. You’ve accumulated a bunch of them throughout your entire life, some as gifts from your friends and family and others from your lack of self control during the fall and winter time of the blatant holiday themes are anything to go by. You’re pretty sure your old baby blankets are boxed up somewhere, likely under your bed.

You pile the load of blankets high in your arms, so much so that you can’t see where you’re going if you don’t walk sideways as you make your way towards the living room. The living room where everything is going to happen.

Dropping the mountain of blankets on the couch unceremoniously, you immediately start to arrange them all around the couch. You bunch and ball the blankets around the back of the couch, trying to form a cocoon out of them so that you, Steve, and Bucky can remain warm no matter where or how any of you sit while you watch movie after movie throughout the rest of the night.

Which reminds you, it’s not possible to have a movie night without any movies.

turning to the small movie rack that sits next to the TV, you waste no time at all in picking out any movies that catch your eye which are quite a few movies, a good number of which are Steve and Bucky’s favorites. You set the, rather large, stack of movies next to the couch blanket fort so they’re out and ready to pick through whenever.

You’re left with a small clean up after that. You clear off the coffee table for when Steve gets home with the food, picking up leftover coffee mugs (courtesy of Steve) and rinsing them before sticking them in the dishwasher for you to deal with later. Then, you move the books lying around the living room to the miniature bookshelf in your bedroom before gathering all the drawing paper and well used pencils (also courtesy of Steve) and placing those on the left bedside table, the side Steve likes to sleep on when he’s not in the middle.

You wander around the apartment after that, looking for anything else to clean while you wait for Steve to arrive. It takes less time than you think it should have, which is surprising, so surprising that you almost think someone is politely breaking in when you hear the sound of the door clicking open and closed.

You head out of your bedroom where you were perusing a book, something you could distract yourself with, when you heard. You walk into the kitchen to see Steve already unpacking the food, clearly having rushed home.

You’re not able to hold back your smile upon seeing your boyfriend for the first time in weeks. “Need any help?” you wonder, your appearance catching Steve’s attention. He turns towards you, it being quite obvious that Steve is as excited to see you as you are to see him if the wide smile that spreads across his face in seconds is anything to go by.

Steve pauses in his unpacking to lean towards as you approach him swiftly, so he can pull you into a warm kiss. You and Steve feel each other smile during the kiss, making you two smile even harder. “Help would be great,” Steve tells you after you separate. He resumes unpacking the food from the plastic bag it was put into.

You identify the logo on the bag now that you’re so close and it’s clear that the food is from Bucky’s favorite burger place. You take note of the food as you help Steve set everything out on the counter. There’s three (3) different to-go boxes, no doubt filled with favorite menu items. You also spot three (3) medium sized milkshakes sitting in the cup container.

“Dessert?”

“It’s in the fridge,” Steve informs you.

Making a sound of interest and curiosity, you ask, “What is it?”

Steve smirks and raises his eyebrows. “Went to the store and got one of those ice cream cakes Buck likes.”

“Well,” you start, “that will certainly be a nice treat for later.”

You and Steve share a smile as you both grab the food and milkshakes so you can bring it to the living room. The living room where you plan to have dinner and a show with your two wonderful super-soldier boyfriends.

Afterwards, you and Steve resign yourselves to standing around the kitchen, catching up on the last few weeks. You and Steve are ready to happily greet Bucky once the time comes that he opens the door.

It feels like time drags on and on while you two are waiting so you’re very much thankful when you finally hear the turning of the doorknob. You and Steve separate from where you had been wrapped around each other, turning and shouting Bucky’s name in excitement. Just as he walks through the door, Bucky is all bashful as soon as he sees his two boyfriends greet him with spread arms and wide smiles.

You look him up and down for the first time in quite awhile, Bucky just as gorgeous as he always was. He clearly showered and changed beforehand if the damp hair and sweatpants are anything to go by.

Bucky drops the gym bag, obviously filled with his dirty and possibly damaged suit, on the floor. He stretches his arms out, resting each hand on the back of your and Steve’s necks so he can pull you both in close to give each of you a kiss on the lips.

“Welcome home.”

“Welcome home indeed,” Bucky rumbles back, a heart-eye look sweeping across his face. You’re one of the two people on earth that gets to receive that look, not that you mean to brag or anything.

“I’ll take your bag and put it in our room,” Steve tells Bucky. Bucky thanks him before he pulls Steve into another kiss. It’s something you feel there’s going to be a lot of for the rest of the evening, which you look forward to.

Steve takes Bucky’s gym bag from him before walking off so he can do exactly as he said, leaving you and your other boyfriend by yourselves in the kitchen. Once Steve is out of reach, you feel Bucky’s hand move from the back of your neck to your waist, which allows him to pull you in close. He presses you against his chest so he can engage in a deep reunion kiss. It’s been a long time since you’ve last felt his lips against yours which is why you allow yourself to indulge.

You have to force yourself to take a step back. “Not that I'm not enjoying this, because I 100 percent am, but…” you trail off as you take Bucky’s hand in yours, ”we should go to the living room for your first surprise.”

“First surprise?” Bucky’s tone lilts in clear interest, eyebrows raising. It’s almost as if he’s joking but you’re able to tell that Bucky’s genuinely looking forward to what you and Steve have prepared for him.

“We haven’t seen each other properly in weeks. There’s a lot to catch up on.”

“Well, I am definitely looking forward to it. Lead the way, doll,” Bucky instructs you, causing you to chuckle before you turn away from him in order for him to lead him into the living room.

You present the done up living room with wide open arms and an enthusiastic ‘ta-da’ and it seems that if Bucky’s smile could get bigger, it probably would. He surveys your and Steve’s work before he turns back towards you and also Steve, who has just rejoined you and Bucky. “What do you think, Buck?”

“You know what I think, Stevie baby,” Bucky tells him, grabbing one of each of your and Steve’s hands. “I absolutely love it.”

Changing the subject a little, you say, “Well, pick a seat because none of us are moving for anything other than changing the movie and getting dessert.”

Bucky hums, his voice lifting up high at the end. “Dessert, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve dismisses before his boyfriend could get any ideas. “You have to finish your dinner first.”

Bucky nods eagerly, not in any way bothered by being withheld dessert, before he takes his seat in the middle of the couch. He clearly wants to have his boyfriends cuddled up on either side of him.

“So, what do you want to watch first?” you question while you scoot the pile of movies closer to Bucky, who doesn’t take any time at all to begin picking out the movie he wants. And as it turns out, it’s a horror movie called The Apparition.

While he takes it from the pile, Bucky comments, “Been awhile since I’ve seen one fo these.”

“Horror movie, huh?” Steve jokes. “Trying to be our knight in shining armor while we cower behind you in fear?” you laugh alongside your boyfriends.

You settle back on the couch once you’ve taken the movie from Bucky and put it in the DVD player, which begins to play shortly after. You and your boyfriends snuggle into each other’s sides, feet pulled close to your bodies as you all munch on your food.

Well, it’s more like Steve and Bucky are eating their food. At the moment, you were less interested in your food and more interested in Bucky. Your boyfriend was distracting in general, both of them were. But it’s the smooth brown waves of Bucky’s hair that’s distracting you specifically. It looks so soft, especially so after Bucky’s washed it, and you just want to run your fingers through it, play with it for hours.

Your eyes wander down to your wrist as you continue to think about your boyfriend’s long hair, eyes catching on the little black band around your wrist. It’s a hair tie, one that you and Steve always have wrapped around your wrists for this precise reason. For tying up Bucky’s hair when he needs or wants to. It’s a habit to keep hair ties on your person constantly, originating right around the time Bucky was cleared to go on missions. He had decided that he wanted to keep his hair long, at least for the time being, so as the length of Bucky’s hair grew larger so did the need for hair ties at any given time.

You glance between Bucky’s hair and the hair tie, your self control wearing thin. After only a few seconds, you’re not able to help yourself from reaching your hand out to your boyfriend’s beautiful brown hair. You weave your fingers through a few strands is all it takes for your desire to skyrocket.

Tangling both of your hands to Bucky’s hair, you feel him pause in his eating but you pay it no mind as you begin to languidly braid his hair. It’s not long before another pair of hands join yours. Looking over, you spot a giddy Steve on the other side of Bucky. It appears as if your thoughts have rubbed off on him because he grabs the other half of Bucky’s hair so he can braid it alongside you.

Bucky chuckles, clearly amused. “You two are ridiculous.” Although, you wonder if Bucky can really blame you.

“Your hair is really beautiful, though,” Steve adds. Bucky doesn’t say anything in response, not that it matters. The blush that highlights his cheeks for the next five minutes is telling enough.

You and Steve share knowing looks as you both continue to braid your boyfriend’s hair, permanent smiles stretching across your faces.

(NOT MY GIF)

Main Blog // Other Side Blog

((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))

#stucky x male reader #stuck x reader #reader insert #marvel cinematic universe

[yellowsuitcase]

Oblivious - Part 1 // Draco Malfoy

A/N: This took several days to write, I wrote one and a half other imagines before finishing this. And it’s only the first part of three! I hope you enjoy it and yes I know Fred and George would’ve left Hogwarts by now, but let’s pretend they didn’t ;) Also, to the people who’ve requested imagines, please know I’m working diligently to get them completed, I’ve been very busy lately with school as well as redoing my bedroom. But keep looking forward to them, they’re coming I promise.

Summary: Half Blood Prince era. Draco’s been sneaking away to work on fixing the vanishing cabinet. But his muggle-born Gryffindor girlfriend Y/N has been picking up on his suspicious disappearances. During their trip to Hogsmeade, something unexpected occurs.

Warning(s): SPOILERS!! Swearing, making out

Word Count: 4.2k

Part 2

Y/N skipped through the entrance to the courtyard, singing, “He was a skater boy, she said see you later, boy. He wasn’t good enough for her,” at the top of her lungs, drawing quite a few puzzled stares her way. Draco, her boyfriend, reluctantly followed behind her, his face turning crimson.

“Y/N! Y/N, please stop, people are looking,” he pleaded with her.

“Tough crowd, tough crowd,” Y/N mused, “How about, life is a highwaayy, and I wanna ride it all night long!”

People began to laugh at the Gryffindor’s performance. Draco, however, was becoming more embarrassed by the second. “Love, please, enough with the muggle songs.”

“What? You don’t like my singing, is that it?” Y/N asked while she sat down at the base of their favorite tree.

“You know I adore everything about you, just not the muggle music. What is a highway anyway?”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? Do you ever pay any attention in muggle studies?”

Draco gave her a sheepish grin while he rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N swatted his arm lightly with her roll of parchment she’d taken out of her school bag. “Speaking of muggle studies, I have a 25-inch essay to write. Professor Burbage wants us to compare and contrast an average muggle’s day and an average wizard’s.”

“Well, that ought to be easy, your mum and dad are muggles.”

“It’s still 25 inches, Draco, that’s quite a lot,” Y/N said exasperatedly. She huffed as she unrolled her parchment and got to work; she already had 18 inches done.

Draco admired her as she wrote. The fluffy red quill in her hand bounced with the movements of her wrist as she jotted down a sentence. She was squinting her eyes, trying to block out the sun. Her little nose was scrunched up as well as her forehead.

She was so effortlessly beautiful. The littlest things about her were the things Draco liked the most, like the way her hair framed her face, some loose strands falling from behind her ear, and shining in the sun. Or the way she rubs her eyes with both fists after yawning.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” Draco said.

Y/N gave him a fake annoyed glare. “Well, you’re making it hard for me to focus,” she mumbled under her breath, turning her attention back to her essay while biting her lip to keep from smiling.

Draco smirked, some of his teeth showing, “Hard to focus, huh? Am I that sexy?” he asked while wiggling his eyebrows. He received a quick slap on his chest.

“Shut up! Oh my god,” Y/N said. Draco complied with her wishes and simply gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before rising to his feet.

Y/N looked up at him, puzzled. “Where are you going?”

“I just want to get to class a bit early today. I’ll see you in Dark Arts class.” 

Y/N watched as the blonde boy walked away. She thought it was quite peculiar for him to want to get to class early. Usually, he was begging her to stay with him and be a few minutes late. She tried to shrug it off; perhaps he just wanted to ask his professor a question. Y/N picked up her quill and once again began to write, pushing away the thoughts of what her boyfriend was up to.

-----------

“Perhaps Draco is just putting forth more effort into learning Herbology. The whomping willow is quite a fascinating plant.”

“Luna, I love you but come on. You can’t blame me for being a little suspicious. I mean, Herbology and Draco are like Filch and magic,” Y/N said as she and Luna walked to their next class, “it’s never going to work.” 

Luna nodded softly. “It’s a shame Filch can��t do magic. It’s so wonderful.”

“He doesn’t deserve it, he would use an unforgivable curse on a student in a heartbeat, he would.”

Y/N spared a quick glance behind her. She felt as though she was being watched. Sure enough, when her head spun around, she saw Draco. He smiled as he briskly caught up to her and Luna. He wrapped his arms around her waist and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. Y/N squirmed; she didn’t like people touching her neck.

Before she left to go to her own class, Luna asked, “Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Y/N?”

Y/N had barely remembered that tomorrow was a Hogsmeade weekend. She tilted her head to look at Draco. “Are you going?”

Draco avoided eye contact with Y/N, but he nodded nonetheless. She turned back to Luna. “I wouldn’t miss our trip to Honeydukes now, would I?”

Luna smiled, “I don’t know, you might one day.” She shifted her bag onto her shoulder. “See you then. Goodbye, Y/N. Goodbye, Draco.” 

When Luna was out of earshot, Y/N wiggled out of Draco’s arms. 

“Do you not want to go to Hogsmeade? You don’t have to if you wouldn’t like to.”

Draco shook his head vehemently. “No, no, I’ll go. We can get butterbeer together like we always do. Now let’s get going, I suspect Snape will take 10 points from Gryffindor if you’re late.” The pair headed off to class. 

————-

Draco woke up the next morning with an uneasy feeling in his gut. Usually, his trips to Hogsmeade were enjoyable, but he knew this one would be anything but. 

He’d been given the dreadful task of murdering his headmaster, Dumbledore. He knew he was never gonna be able to do it face to face, so he’d opted for a more indirect option. He and his mother made a trip to Borgin and Burkes early that year and purchased the Opal Necklace. It was reported to have killed nineteen muggles to date. 

He glanced over to his nightstand. The necklace was wrapped in packing paper inside the bottom drawer. His stomach churned when he remembered his plan. He’d have to execute it right under Y/N’s nose. He felt so vile. Since this school year had started, he’d been keeping secrets from her. 

They loved to sit in the courtyard under their tree, often Y/N would fall asleep on his shoulder, and Draco always felt terrible when he had to maneuver her to the grass so he could sneak away to the Room of Requirement. But there’d be consequences if he failed to fix the vanishing cabinet, and he wasn’t about to waste any free time he had. And if that meant keeping secrets and slipping away from his girlfriend, then that’s what he had to do. 

“Goyle, what time is it?” Draco asked.

“Uhh bout half-past nine. Why?” 

“Shit,” he muttered. He was already thirty minutes late for breakfast. Y/N would start to worry if he didn’t show up soon. Mentally preparing himself for the day ahead, he shoved his blanket off and swung his legs to the side of his bed. He opted for his classic black suit. He made sure to stuff the necklace, still wrapped, into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco snapped his head to glare at Crabbe. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he spat with an aggrieved look upon his face. He put on his shoes and strode out of the Slytherin dorms. Soon enough, he arrived at the Great Hall. His eyes located Y/N’s instantly. They were filled with worry, but relief overtook them when they met Dracos. She beckoned him over with a wave of her hand.

Once he sat down, he was engulfed in a tight hug. 

“Whoa there darling, is everything alright?” he asked.

“I’m just excited, it’s been a while since the last Hogsmeade weekend. I’m craving butterbeer, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes danced animatedly with anticipation. 

Draco smiled, “You’re too cute, you are,” he said before he kissed her rosy cheek.

“Are you going out dressed like that? You know it’ll be snowy in Hogsmeade,” Y/N asked. She was dressed in a maroon sweater and black jeans; to her left, she had laid her coat and her Gryffindor scarf and hat. 

“I’ll be sure to fetch my coat before we leave,” he assured her. 

“You’d better go now, we leave for Hogsmeade in fifteen minutes,” said Luna, making Draco aware of her presence. He heeded her words and stood up from the table. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Draco bit his lip. He really didn’t think he could stomach anything at the moment, but he didn’t want to upset Y/N. 

“I’ll save room for butterbeer. Meet me outside?” he asked. She nodded despite the reluctant look on her face. Draco didn’t stay for a moment longer. He turned on his heel and hurried off to his common room. 

“He seems troubled,” Luna stated. 

“I’m glad you’ve noticed it as well. The bags under his eyes get darker every day, it seems.”

“Perhaps he should brew a sleeping draught potion.”

“I don’t think he’d like the idea of sleeping for so long. He’s definitely racing the clock, trying to complete something. The question is what,” Y/N wondered aloud, her face twisted in thought.

"I've seen him coming out of the Room of Requirement. Maybe he's been doing something in there," Luna suggested.

"You have? When? Did he look-," Y/N was interrupted by a voice behind her.

“You coming to Hogsmeade, Y/N?” When she turned around, Hermione was standing there, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Is Draco coming with you?” she asked.

“Yes, but why does that matter to you? I thought you didn’t like him,” Y/N said in a bit of an accusatory tone. What did it matter to Hermione whether or not Draco was going to Hogsmeade?

Hermione looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uh, no reason. Just curious is all. See you there then.” Then she ran off, presumably to find Ron and Harry.

“What is going on around here?” Y/N asked nobody in particular. 

“There are so many things taking place at once, but I think we all find out about them one way or another,” Luna said. 

“I hope so.”

-----------

Draco did his best to smile while he and Y/N strolled through Hogsmeade. It hardly worked, though. She was beaming with joy, and he was melancholy. All he could think about was the task ahead of him. His plan was to sneak away from Y/N in the Three Broomsticks and find Madam Rosmerta. He would then imperio her to deliver the necklace to Dumbledore. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to cast an unforgivable curse, but there wouldn’t be any other way to get the package to Dumbledore without raising suspicion. He had to do this.

“Where do you want to go first?” Y/N asked, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. 

“Wherever you’d like to go, love,” he replied, not missing a beat.

She sighed, “I asked you where you want to go. Pick a place.”

Draco smirked, “How about the Shrieking Shack,” he said in a naughty tone.

“Draco,” she said in a condescending tone. “You know we’re not allowed in there.”

“Yes, but we could sneak in.”

Y/N shook her head, “Draco, do you really want to have detention tomorrow?”

“Oh, don’t be such a party pooper. Don’t you wonder what’s inside it?”

“Nope,” she said matter of factly.

“You’re telling me you’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, I see now, you’re scared of it. You’re scared of a shack.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. End of discussion,” Draco said. 

“End of discussion? You don’t just get to end our conversation,” Y/N yelled. But before she could give her boyfriend a flick on the head, he began to run. “Hey! Don’t you run from me, Malfoy!”

He turned his head to see her start to chase after him. She was giggling as she was jogging, her smile brighter than the fresh snow on the ground. Draco loved her smile.

He led her through twists and turns, nearly running into several people before he found his destination. He slowly came to a stop and waited for Y/N to catch up. He grabbed her hand and yanked her to his chest when she caught up. She squealed when he did this. 

“How are you so fit? I nearly died just then,” Y/N said, bent over and panting.

Draco laughed, “You alright there, darling?”

She glared at him, “Where did you take us, anyway?” She answered her own question when she took her hands off her knees and looked around. She spotted the shack instantly.

“Draco, I don't know what you’re thinking, but I’m not going in there.”

“Oh come on, don’t be such a wuss,” he said while grabbing her hand. She reluctantly followed him as he went over to the fence. He put his hands on the top rail and lifted his right leg to plant his foot on the middle one. He gathered his strength and pushed himself up and over the fence. Once on the other side, he brushed himself off and turned to face Y/N.

“Right. Your turn now, love.”

“You made it look so easy,” she grumbled. But she put her hands on the fence anyway. She tried to copy what she’d seen Draco do, but when she tried, she found she didn’t have the strength. 

“You got it, just swing your legs over,” Draco instructed. 

Y/N nodded and attempted to do what he said. She stood on the bottom rail and grasped the top in her hands. Unsure of herself, she looked at Draco.

“Come on, hop on over.”

She nodded and climbed to the top of the fence. She bent her arms and launched herself over the wooden rails. Y/N realized halfway through the jump that things were about to end badly. Draco wasn’t able to move fast enough and could only watch as her right foot twisted when she landed. 

She let out a yelp and fell to the snowy ground. Draco rushed over to her and began to take off her boot. 

“I’ve sprained it. I know I have,” she said, gritting her teeth in pain. 

Draco ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve just taken you to get butterbeer.”

“We still can, I think you’ll need to carry me though,” she said while chuckling. 

Draco momentarily looked away from her swollen ankle to look at her face. Somehow, despite the pain she must’ve been in, she was smiling at him.

“You never fail to amaze me, you know that?” he asked her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How so?” 

Before Draco could answer, his attention was stolen by two redheads.

“Y/N? Is that you? What’s Malfoy done to you?” Fred Weasley called out.

“Yeah, Malfoy, what’d you do to her?” George chimed in. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “What do you think they’re doing here?” she asked her boyfriend.

“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care.”

Fred and George had made their way to the couple. “What’s happened?” George asked.

“Well, I tried to jump the fence, and it didn’t go so well,” Y/N chuckled. 

The twins laughed along with her. “That does sound like something you’d do,” Fred remarked.

“Yes, yes, it’s all very funny, but she’s got a sprained ankle by the looks of it,” Draco said, interrupting the laughter to remind them of the situation at hand. He reached under Y/N’s arms and gently helped her to her feet. She winced when she had to put pressure on her ankle. Draco felt guilt pool in his stomach. He went to jump back over the fence but was stopped short. 

“Malfoy, why don’t you lift her up from that side,” said Fred.

 “And then we can help her over,” George finished.

“Yeah, that’ll be easier,” Y/N agreed. She looked at Draco to see if he, too, thought the same. He nodded and gripped her hips. 

“1...2...3!” He lifted her up and sat her atop the highest rail. He held her steady as the twins helped maneuver her legs to the other side. They then helped her down, being careful not to let her put pressure on her injured foot.

Draco hastily climbed up the fence and hopped down, “I can take it from here,” he said sternly. He crouched down in front of Y/N, allowing her to climb onto his back. Once he knew she was secure, he straightened his legs and started walking. 

Y/N turned her head, “Thank you guys!” she called to the twins. 

“You could’ve thanked them, you know, you would’ve had a hell of a time getting me over that fence without them.”

Draco scoffed. “I would’ve managed just fine without the Weasleys.”

His girlfriend sighed. “I know you don’t like them, but geez, can’t you swallow your pride for one second?”

Draco didn’t reply, opting to remain silent as he trudged back to Hogsmeade.

-------

The pair sat inside the Three Broomsticks, now toasty warm and anxiously awaiting what was to come. For Y/N, it was butterbeer, but for Draco, it was something much less enticing. 

The feeling of the package against his breast made his heart race. He wished he could’ve just enjoyed a drink with his lover, but bigger things were expected of him that day. His eyes hardly left Madam Rosmerta. He was tracking her movements, waiting for the perfect moment to present itself.

“And so I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about. I mean, did she seriously expect me to confess to that? But anyway after that she-,” Y/N stopped talking when she realized the boy sitting across from her was paying absolutely no attention to her story. 

She reached for his hand. “Draco, what’s wrong? Something’s bothering you, I can see it on your face.”

He shook his head, dismissively. “I’m fine, what were you saying?”

Y/N frowned. “Nothing important. But uhm, anyway, what are you doing tomorrow? Maybe we could borrow some broomsticks from Madam Hooch and fly around the pitch,” she suggested. But Draco still wasn’t attentive to her words. He wasn’t even looking at her.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he said, suddenly jumping to his feet. He strode away from their table without looking back. Y/N felt her heart sink. Why wasn’t he paying attention to her?

She decided to pass the time by tracing her finger on the cracks and lines embedded in the wooden table. She grew increasingly bored the longer Draco was absent. Until she heard a familiar voice. Upon raising her head, she saw the trio. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They sat at the table behind her. She decided to turn around and make conversation as Draco still hadn’t returned.

“Hi, guys, what’s up?”

“Oh, hey Y/N. Nothing much, how about you?” Ron asked.

“Oh, you know, not much, just spraining ankles,” she said sarcastically. 

Ron looked at her with a puzzled expression. His eyes drifted to her foot. “Blimey, Y/N, what did you do?”

Hermione took notice as well. “Are you alright? Should I fetch a professor?”

“No, no, that’s alright, it’s only a sprain. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix it right up when I return. Thank you, though,” she smiled.

“How’d you manage to sprain it, though?” Harry inquired.

“Oh well, long story short, I tried to jump a fence, and it didn’t end so well,” Y/N said with a slight chuckle. “Actually, Ron, your brothers helped Draco get me back over the fence.”

Ron smiled, “Glad to hear it,” after he spoke, his facial expression changed to one of confusion. 

“You mentioned Draco, where is he?”

Y/N sighed and did a once-over of the pub. “He ran off a little while ago, I’ve got no idea where he is. He said he’d be right back.”

Hermione looked at her sympathetically. “He’ll be back...probably.”

“Oh! There he is,” Ron said. Y/N turned her head back around to see Draco emerging from around the corner. He and Harry made eye contact. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Draco rushed over to Y/N.

“Let’s go, I want to stop at Dervish and Banges,” he said while reaching behind her back and underneath her knees. 

“What? We haven’t even gotten our butterbeer. Draco put me down. Put me down!”

Draco glared at her, fury in his eyes. “Don’t make a scene,” he snapped. This shut Y/N right up. She didn’t protest when he carried her out of the pub. He didn’t stop walking until he reached a bench in an empty passageway. He sat her down first and then took the spot next to her.

“What was that about? What’s going on, Draco?” Y/N asked; she was fed up.

Draco panicked. He didn’t have a lie prepared, but he knew he couldn’t get away with not answering her. Not anymore. 

He said the first thing that came to mind. “It’s my dad. He’s been bothering me a lot lately.”

This was true. Draco’s dad had been pestering him with multiple owls a day, always asking for updates on the cabinet. It was quite frankly driving him mad.

“He keeps sending me owls, he won’t leave me alone,” Y/N held his hand and ran her thumb up and down the top of it. “I left you at the table so I could apparate home. He was expecting me.”

She stopped her soothing motion. “You can apparate that far!? Successfully?” she asked, shocked at her boyfriend’s abilities.

He nodded. “My father requested Professor Twycross give me private lessons. That’s where I’ve been running off to lately.”

Draco felt bile rise in his throat. He hated lying to Y/N, but it had to be done. He couldn’t get her involved in his death eater business. It would be better for both of them if she remained oblivious.

“Well, I’m glad you finally told me. I’ll be here if you ever want to rant about him. He sure has been causing you a lot of stress lately, hasn’t he?”

He nodded and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. Oh, how he wished he could tell her. “Thank you, love. I appreciate that.”

She smiled and went in for a kiss. He passionately kissed her back. He wanted to focus his energy on her now, to try to make up for all the times he’d neglected her.

Draco held her face with one hand while the other traveled to her hip. Without warning, he squeezed it, causing Y/N to yelp and thus open her mouth, which allowed Draco to sneak his tongue inside. He let out a groan, running his fingers through her hair and gripping it slightly.

They were interrupted by the sound of nearby laughter. Draco reluctantly pulled away; he knew how Y/N felt about kissing in public. She gave him a soft smile, her face flushed, and her lips swollen.

“I can’t believe you,” she giggled. He grinned and gave her another kiss, this one just a quick peck.

“I love you, you know,” he said.

She hummed happily. “I do know. And I love you too, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco laughed and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, prompting Y/N to push him away playfully. “Stopppp,” she whined.

“Alright, alright. I think it’s about time we head back to Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey needs to fix my angel’s ankle.”

“That she does,” Y/N said. She raised her arms and made grabby hands at Draco as he stood up. He laughed at her antics. 

“Up,” she demanded. He complied and lifted her into his arms. She immediately nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck and sighed contently. 

He carried her all the way out of Hogsmeade and halfway through the path to Hogwarts before it happened. About ten yards in front of them, Katie Bell rose into the air. Her mouth was wide open as if something was sucking the breath out of her. Draco felt his heart stop. Y/N noticed he’d stopped walking, and she lifted her head to look at him. He looked terrified. She followed his gaze just in time to see Katie fall to the ground. She gasped, and her eyes widened; she didn’t believe what she saw. 

“Draco, we have to see what’s going on, take us over there,” she said.

But Draco had already seen what had caused Katie to float twenty feet in the air. The necklace. It was on the snow, its wrappings flapping in the freezing wind. 

He ignored his girlfriend’s wishes and instead hurried down the path to his left. It was the long way back to Hogwarts.

“Draco! What are you doing?” Y/N asked. She began to struggle in his grip, Draco wasn’t expecting this, and he dropped her. She screamed in pain; he’d dropped her on her bad ankle. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m sorry Y/N, please just let me take you back to Hogwarts, it’s not safe here,” he pleaded with her.

She glared at him and then looked behind her. Hagrid was now holding Katie in his arms. Y/N knew she’d be safe with Hagrid.

Draco let out a sigh of relief when she raised her arms, signaling she wished to be picked up again. “Thank you, love,” he said as he brought her back into his arms. “Thank you.”

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #series #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #harry potter #hogwarts #death eater #luna lovegood #hermione granger #draco lucius malfoy #lucius malfoy #rubeus hagrid #katie bell #opal necklace

[flamboyant-king]

— SHIP QUESTIONS (but I just filled them all out anyway)

Herb and Clover!

When I’m sad, I do ship memes to feel better. These are based on headcanons and AUs I have yet I hide. Sorry, I’m making yall see this, but I like sharing my ideas even when I can’t draw them hgjkdf (sorry mobile users i think)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet? While Herb was still serving in the army, he was trying to give one of his troopmates first aid in a burning town. Clover appeared at the top of the cliff after exiting the forest. The burning town terrified him, he wanted to run back into the forest, but he knew whoever was down there needed help. So at the top of the cliff he let loose a healing melody, hoping it would help. The music overtook the sounds of chaos as the notes fell upon those suffering below. The wounds of the soldier slightly fade away from Herb’s troopmate’s side. The pain becoming bearable and the man calming down. Herb bandaged him up and someone else carried him to safety. Herb told them to go on without him as he looked up at the cliff. Wherever that music came from, he is grateful. But they first really met in Herb’s garden hehe

What was their first impression of each other? Herb: The melody is enchanting. Tranquil and yet melancholic. There is a literal goddess in my garden. I don’ know what to do, but I should say hello, I think? Clover: He looks...so familiar...

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together? The bar squad just gave each other look everytime they see Herb and Clover hanging out. Like, “Are they dating because they should???” After observation from Milennial Tree and Wind archer, they think Herb is the perfect suit to watch over their little Clover.

Who felt romantic feelings first? Herb felt them first. Almost immediate love at first sight. He immediately wanted to see Clover again and invited him to come to his garden every morning. Just the two of them every morning in a place only for them. The thought of this made him so embarrassed and giddy. Clover also smelled like grass, so even if he wasn’t in his garden, his “safespace,” just being by Clover made him feel at home. Clover still had lingering feelings for Shamrock when he spent time with Herb. Only after did it grow out of that and went for just falling for Herb himself.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings? Clover tried to resist only because he didn’t want to fall for Herb because he reminded him of Shamrock. He didn’t want to do that to him. But when he realized that he was in fact just falling for Herb because he’s Herb did he let it happen.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? Herb: It does feel like fate to see you again. Clover: I don’t want to keep thinking back to him, but if reincarnation is real...No...No I shouldn’t think like that.

What would their lives be like if they had never met? Herb would be lonely all by himself in his little garden. Clover would still be traveling with nowhere else to return home to.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go? It just happened naturally. Slowly getting closer. Spending every morning together, turned into afternoon, and into nights, and just spending every waking moment together. They didn’t even need to say anything or ask each other out, they just knew how comfortable it was to be with each other that they wanted to stay that way.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like? The first time it felt like an actual date was when Clover invited Herb to a little private concert in the woods. Herb offered to bring picnic supplies. They walked through the forest until they could find a nice spot to settle on. They crossed over a stream on a fallen tree. Clover slipped on the moss and fell to the side but Herb jumped to catch him. Waded through the ankle deep water so fast to make sure Clover didn’t get wet, because “walking around in a soggy skirt seems uncomfortable.” Herb was holding Clover in his arms and Clover just looked at him. Thinking. Admiring. Clover wrapped his arms around Herb’s neck and stayed there. They both “soaked”  in the moment before Herb stood Clover back on the log. Clover didn’t let go of his hand. Herb was his support for the rest of the tree. But even after they were past the stream, they didn’t let go of each other’s hands.

What was their first kiss like? It felt right. All the days leading up to it felt like they could have kissed just right there. They greeted each other the same each morning. Clover groggily walked into the garden and gave Herb’s apron a tug. Herb turned to Clover with a smile. He just had to lean in naturally and it was done. They held it for a few seconds. Herb pulled away then it struck what he just did. “Clover, I’m so sorry! That came out of nowhere. I should’ve asked or s-something.” Clover looked at him still processing what had happened, then his face turned pink. They both just stood there embarrassed before Clover asked for another.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)? They were each other’s first relationship. Clover has been in love many times before but was always afraid to make it official knowing he would outlive them. Herb isn’t the social type, it was actually Sparkling that approached him and forced him into familiarity. But Herb never went out of his way to get to know someone enough to start dating.

What’s their height difference? Age difference? Clover’s at the perfect height to peek over Herb’s shoulder. Clover ages slowly, so a 100 years it he equivalent of a human year of growth. So clover started slowly aging after 18 years, now he’s 700+ years thus making his body 25 years old. Herb is 26 hehoo.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families? Clover’s family is lost to time. He doesn’t know who his real parents are and his adoptive parents died centuries ago. Herb admires Milennial Tree and he’s friendly with Wind Archer. Clover is also familiar with Sea Fairy through Milennial Tree.

Who takes the lead in social situations? Herb is usually one who tries to blend in with the background and slip away from social situations, yet he’s very approachable. He uses Clover to mellow out social situations, and Clover is very talkative and friendly. So by having Clover there, Herb can direct everyone’s attention away from him and onto Clover.

Who gets jealous easier? Clover likes all of Herb’s friends, but Herb does get a bit jealous when he sees Clover hanging out with them. He’s keeping his eye on Mint Choco even though he knows Mint Choco and Cocoa are dating. Irrational Jealousy.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear? Clover’s got good ears so Herb would whisper so quietly that no one but Clover can actally hear him even if it’s not directly in his ear. So Clover is the one who would tend to whisper in Herb’s ear. However, since Clover’s ears are so sensitive, Herb whispering in them would tickle. Herb would use that to his advantage sometimes. He isn’t one to dirty talk, but when they do get uhhh dirty, he loves to see Clover shudder when he brushes his lips against his ear and breathe compliments to him.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first? Clover would say I love you in ways without using those words, through poems, music, gestures, and actions. So Herb would say “I love you” first but Clover said it first.

What are their primary love languages? Hugs! Clover likes to sit in Herb’s lap and Herb would rub his head.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines? Clover is more poetic so he wouldn’t use cheesy pick up lines. Herb would research some bad ones and tell them to Clover, though. Just to make him laugh.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA? All the time. As often as they could. Whenever they’re in the vicinity of each other.

Who initiates kisses? Clover! He looks up at Herb with pleading eyes that Herb knows to bend over and give him a peck on the lips. And Clover would sometimes just wrap his arms around Herb’s neck to hold him there a bit longer.

Who’s the big and little spoon? Clover’s the little spoon. He loves being surrounded in Herb. Herb just holds little plants so often, of course he’d keep Clover in his arms.

What are their favorite things to do together? Gardening, of course.

Who’s better at comforting the other? Clover has more comforting words to offer, but Herb’s hugs are just what Clover needs to feel safe.

Who’s more protective? Herb! It’s his instinct to protect the smaller things. Like plants, animals, Clover.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection? Despite all the words they can say to each other, physical touch speaks real volumes. Just laying together is a whole romance novel.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise? https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLzQcU45t2mctSxvM0JpOG3UCzxQVMAGsB

What kind of nicknames do they call each other? Honey...because Bees. *badumtss*

Who remembers the little things? Clover never forgets.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes? Herb would. He would make the ring himself in the Jewelry shop. The proposal wouldn’t be flashy even. It would happen where they have always been. Alone in Herb’s garden. Clover sitting on his stool strumming his lute and Herb would walk over and kneel down. Take Clover’s hand into his and say “I have something to give you--” and he’d open the ring. “--the rest of my life.” (Adding context to the answer, they’ve talked about it before how Clover would outlive him and Herb feeling insecure about being just a chapter in Clover’s life. Shamrock being the prologue pssh. But Herb was just like “I would love you for the rest of my life. I just hope I become more than just a story you tell.”)

What’s the wedding like? Who attends? The wedding would be in the forest! Mystical and Magical. All the animals would be invited and everyone in the kingdom. Sparkling, of course running the bar. Mint Choco and Clover would have a little performance. Gingerbrave gets to be the ring bearer! Milennial Tree never gets tired of weddings so he’s crying. Wind Archer is the priest just because. It’s like a Disney movie or some shit.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like? No kids, only plants and funny woodland critters that visit. Although, Cookiesnap requires their combined attention.

Do they have any pets? Cookiesnap?

Who’s the stricter parent? Herb! Gotta make sure Cookiesnap doesn’t eat any of the other cookies. Clover would usually just play with Cookiesnap.

Who worries the most? Herb! Clover can be a bit airheaded and wander around into danger. But also, since Clover is sickly, Herb has to carry him around.

Who kills the bugs in the house? No kill, just relocate.

How do they celebrate holidays? They always go out and travel. Always away but still together.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? Clover! Herb is a very early bird. Herb would wake up and see Clover cozily lying on his chest, head burried in his neck. Herb would kiss his forehead and try to go back to sleep. But he would just lay there and relish in the moment.

Who’s the better cook? Herb, even though they both fucking eat dirt, Herb has more experience cooking with actual ingredients.

Who likes to dance? Both! Although, it’s hard to dance together when one of them is playing the music. So when Clover is playing music, Herb dances with the flowers, but when they dance together, Clover sings as Herb hums.

#words #cookie run #sorry people who follow the cookie run tag #you know what im just sorry for everyone ever to look at this but i wanted to share anyway gfhjkl #i need to sleep now wuhhhh #but gotta get my kingdom rewards fuuckk

[linorangge]

Monarchy | Prince! Hyunjin AU

Among the kingdom, he’s known for his good looks and you can’t help but think that’s all he has to offer. With an uprising waiting to happen, you may be his last resort. (CONTENT WARNING: angst, fluff, cursing, d3ath, suggestive language.) Part 2 | Word Count: 2147

Hwang Hyunjin, heir to the throne, but not anytime soon. He was a prince sure, but he was in line behind a sister, and two brothers. The youngest of four children, the Hwang siblings were elite among the six  kingdoms of Asia. Hyunjin was 20, his eldest brother was 25, his sister 23 and his other brother 22.

You had never seen him in person. You always saw him on national broadcasts and when you did, he never spoke, he was reserved. The kingdom admired him mainly for his good looks, his good posture, his long hair, and especially his long legs and perfect physical appearance.

He was especially popular among young adults and teenage girls, all your friends had pictures of him from newsletters and magazines. He modeled for countless clothing lines. He was the most well known Hwang sibling despite all of them having good physical genes.

Your father was the head military general, therefore he saw the Hwang family often. From what you’d heard from your father, they were all similar, except for Hyunjin. He was the quiet one among them.

Your opinion on the Hwang family wasn’t necessarily the most well formed.

His eldest brother, Hwang Sungho, was most known for being the funny and extroverted sibling. He was polite with people and animals, and he was often seen talking pictures with anything that breathed. You liked him, he didn’t seem all that bad.

His eldest sister, Hwang Eunjung, was the epitome of grace. Every girl aspired to be like her. She was every young girl’s role model. She was a lover of the arts, dancing, sculpting, drawing, photography, botany. She was affectionate with her brothers and she was known for her loving nature towards all who came into contact with her. She wasn’t necessarily your role model, but you liked her, and deeply admired her.

His second eldest brother, Hwang Minjun, was also known as being clever and funny. Minjun was often seen as the “troublesome” sibling because he would often accidentally curse during broadcasts. You thought he was funny but ill-mannered.

And then there was Hwang Hyunjin, quiet, “sit still and be pretty” Hyunjin. You thought of him as just a pretty face, a person with no real personality or good talents. He didn’t have much to offer the kingdom in your opinion, which was okay, considering he was last in line and would most likely never become king.

You had never seen any of the royal family in person, and you didn’t desire to. You were satisfied with the life you were living, and you didn’t have any real aspirations other than to become exactly like your father. Your mother had fled the kingdom a long time ago, just after you were born.

Your father had raised you, and he’d taught you martial arts, and sword fighting at a young age. You slowly developed these skills the older you got. Knights were often men, and you aspired to be the first female knight. With your background and reputation with your father being the head general, this could be easily accomplished.

You were 20, and when you turned 21, you’d be able to enlist to begin official training as a knight.

Well, today was the day of a ball being held at the royal palace. You and your father were of course invited and you were both being strapped into expensive clothes by your maids.

Your maid, Byeol, was tightening a corset around your waist as you looked through different necklaces to pair the gown with.

“Ready miss.” Byeol said as she tapped your shoulder gingerly.

You turned and admired yourself in the mirror, the way the bodice hugged your curves well. The dress had straps that fell off the shoulder, giving it an elegant sort of lazy look. The layers of fabric beneath the corset were beautiful and had intricate stitches that held the various layers together.

“Which shoes?” She said as she organized some shoes on a rack.

“The black ones.” You said as you adjusted the dress, still looking in the mirror.

She came around in front of you and lifted your dress as she helped put your shoes on. Byeol was a good maid, she was the closest thing you had to a mother figure. She respected your boundaries but she had taught you everything your mother didn’t. Sewing, knitting, calligraphy, she even taught you how to play cello. You were disciplined thanks to your father and Byeol.

Byeol brought your case of necklaces and jewelry and showed them to you.

“Which do you think goes better?” You said, sifting through them.

“This one.” She said, picking up a medallion with an intricate design on it.

You nodded and took the case from her so she could put it on you.

“Are you nervous?” She asked as she pulled the necklace chains behind you.

“Not really, I think I’ll just eat finger sandwiches and chat with some old friends.” You said, feeling her clip the necklace on, and letting it fall against your chest.

“Why don’t you try dancing with the Hwang brothers? You’re of a high caste, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too taboo.” She said as she fixed the dress from behind you.

“I’m not interested in them.”

Byeol stopped fixing your dress for a moment, “Are you sweet?”

“Sweet?”

“Do you like women, Y/n?”

You turned your head a bit, “No? I don’t think so. I don’t have any interest in royalty, much less the one who’s my age.”

“Prince Hyunjin is a good looking young man. You have no reason to be so judgmental of him.”

“That’s all he is, Byeol. He has nothing to offer.”

“You sound like the rebels.” She said as she stood from fixing your dress.

“Rebels aren’t even knowledgeable. They’re just drunks who roam the sewers.” You said as you turned to face her.

“Be careful who you say these things to, the uprising is near.” She whispered.

“Father has it under control. The uprising will diminish and so will the rebels.” You said confidently.

“Let’s hope so.” She fixed your hair and fluffed it a bit to give it volume.

“Do I look okay?” You asked.

“You look beautiful.” She said as she patted your bare shoulders.

You heard your father shout, “Y/n! The carriage is here!”

You hastily picked up your dress, “Thank you Byeol, you’re an angel.”

You kissed cheeks and you made your way outside of your home.

Your father helped you inside the carriage and climbed in behind you. On your way there your father reminded you to be courteous and gentle. You nodded along to everything he said and before you knew it, you had arrived at the royal palace.

Royal coaches helped you out of the carriage and you held your father’s hooked arm as you walked down the large corridors towards the ballroom.

The halls were lined with guards, people your father was close to and some who even watched you grow up. You knew all of them, and for some odd reason this fact made you proud.

Your father and you walked to the front of the ballroom where the Royal family was sitting. You paused in front of them and curtsied as your father bowed.

You moved on and went to a table that had a place name with your surname. You were sat with some other generals your father worked with and you were all talking amongst yourselves.

And the royal dances with the Hwang siblings began. You were the oldest daughter at your table, the rest were all 12-15 year olds, therefore they weren’t eligible to dance with them. If your caste was high enough and you were 18 years or older, you were able to dance with the royal family.

The generals and their wives egged you on, and you pretended to be shy rather than disgusted at the thought of dancing with Hyunjin.

Your father gave you a look, “Go dance Y/n.” He gave a tight squeeze on your hand, letting you know that you had to dance, this was no longer an option.

“Alright then,” You said, standing from your seat and quickly fixing your gown before you made your way to the dance floor.

You walked up to the seats where the royal family sat, Eunjung, Minjun, and Hyunjin were the only ones left in their seats. You looked at Eunjung who was talking to a girl and giggling softly along with her. You turned to meet eyes with Minjun, who beckoned you towards him.

You stepped toward him and curtsied, “Prince Minjun, I’m Y/n, daughter of the head general.”

“Daughter of the general?” He said, looking you up and down.

You nodded.

“How old are you, Y/n?” He said, sitting up, fixing his posture slightly.

“I’m 20, my prince.”

His eyes widened. He tapped Hyunjin’s hand that was resting on the armchair. Hyunjin looked at his brother with a bored expression and jutted his chin.

“Dance with the head general’s daughter, it’ll be more exciting than dancing on your own.”

Hyunjin lazily turned his head towards you and looked you up and down.

You hated the way he looked at you. The way his eyes traveled your body and came to rest on the necklace around your neck, before meeting your eyes.

He turned back to Minjun, “I only dance alone.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“C’mon Hyunnie!”

Hyunjin interrupted his brother, “Don’t call me that in public.”

Minjun rolled his eyes, “Whatever, dance or I’ll tell dad to give you fencing lessons instead of dance lessons.”

Hyunjin huffed in annoyance, “I hate you.” He mumbled as he stood.

“You love me! C’mere little bro!” Minjun reached up to try and give his brother a cheek kiss. Hyunjin pulled away before he had the chance.

You curtsied before him, “My prince.” You mumbled before he took your hand and led you to the dance floor.

You reached the middle of the floor with him and people moved out of your way as they stared at both of you.

You curtsied as he bowed and he took your hand and began to waltz with you. His gaze was elsewhere, he wasn’t looking into your eyes and even avoiding eye contact.

“Just so you know, I was forced into doing this too.” You said as you both moved in sync.

He hummed in response as he held your waist, guiding you along as he danced. His dryness annoyed you.

“Do you always dance alone?” You asked, trying to start a conversation.

“Do you always ask so many questions?” He said, finally meeting eyes with you.

“Your eyes remind me of a dead fish.” You said, no longer worried about being polite.

He snorted, “Are dead fishes what entice women these days?”

“I wouldn’t know.” You said as he twirled you and he pulled you back towards him.

“I have a feeling you don’t like me.” He said.

“I wonder why.” You gave him a tight smile as you continued to waltz.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, letting the music guide you around the floor.

You watched his face, the way his expression was enthralled in the melody. His body was moved by the music, he was a true dancer. You could tell by his muscular legs and his toned biceps that you could feel through his suit.

“What kind of dancing do you do?” You asked.

“Contemporary, sometimes ballet.” He answered curtly.

“I thought Princess Eunjung did dancing?”

“She does, but she’s more interested in art and botany.” He said.

You nodded in response.

Soon, the symphony ended and you broke apart. He walked you back to the front of the room and let you curtsy before him once again before you made your way back to your table.

“How was it?” Your father asked.

“Good.” You said as you took a sip of wine.

After a moment of talking and eating little snacks presented in the middle of the table, a butler came behind you and tapped you on the shoulder.

You turned and he bowed slightly before saying, “Prince Hyunjin would like to see you in the orchard madam.”

You looked at your father and gave him a panicked look. He gave you a nod, gesturing for you to go.

You turned back to the butler, “Please let him know I’ll be on my way.”

The butler nodded and walked away swiftly. You stood, fixing your dress once again and made your way to the exit.

A million thoughts were going through your head. Was he going to get his revenge after you were so rude to him? Were you to be beheaded for your ill manners? You were afraid nonetheless.

Why would he need to see you in the orchard?

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin writing #hyunjin preferences #kpop #kpop preferences #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #stray kids #stray kids writing #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids preferences #lee know #lee know smut #lee know fluff #lee felix #felix smut #felix fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chris #seo changbin #changbin #changbin fluff #changbin smut

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Size Beautiful- Luke x Reader

A/N: The song the reader is writing is Perfect Harmony from the show. The reader is also plus sized, which is why the title is size beautiful.

Playing the Orpheum was always Luke’s biggest dream, and that was taken away from him. He never got to have a family, or make up with his parents, it was like everything he had going for him was pulled from his grasp. Until he met you and Julie.

The band randomly came flying from the sky while we were cleaning out her mom’s studio. Mrs. Molina was one of the influential people not only in Julie’s life but in yours. She welcomed you with open arms when you parents died. Introducing you to music and playing on your strengths. In her words,” Y/N, you could sell out stadiums one day”

But the moment she was ripped from Julie’s life as well as yours, the music seemed to stop. You could not formulate new lyrics or even a melody. These boys who fell from the world beyond gave you something special, they brought music back to you in small portions. Even finishing the old songs, you had begun to write with Mrs. Molina.

Now here you were, sat at the piano in the studio. Trying to find the right melody for your song but could not find the right tune. You slammed your hand on the piano, clearly flustered.

“You need some help y/n?” Luke said from across the studio as he was strumming his acoustic lightly. You just smiled at him before starting your complaint,

“Luke, I am stuck. Like super stuck, and I do not know what to do. I want this song to be perfect. It is about someone so special to me.” Continuing to slam your hands on the piano, thanking the gods it was just Luke and you. This song was for Luke and you were so stuck, you didn’t know what to do anymore. You had feelings for someone, but he was never going to feel the same.

He placed his guitar down next to his couch, taking my journal in hand. Re-reading the lyrics you have written a million times, clearly stuck on what melody it should go to.

“Can I?” he asked before sitting at the piano next to me, placing the journal in his view so he could help.

You could not help but nod, making room for him to explore the keys. No sooner did he sit down; did he already have a melody in mind. You swear his mind only holds music and nothing else. It was like the whole band only had one braincell, that switched between them on a given day.

You watched as his fingers bounced around on the keys, before settling on the melody. He began singing the beginning lyrics,

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ‘bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

“Is that what you wanted it to be? Or is it a different melody?” He said, catching your gaze. You snapped out of the daze you were in. My mouth felt dry, as you found your words, “Luke it’s incredible. I don’t know how you knew what I was looking for, but it is perfect.”

He smiled gently at you, making your blush crawl up your neck to your cheeks. You wrote down what he was playing so you could remember it for future reference. He began singing the first verse again, and soon you joined in on the second verse,

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes on, I know he doesn’t leave

As you sang through the entire song, you just gazed more and more at Luke. It was like you were singing your heart out to him in that moment, but he had no idea.

The final notes were played, you were so in love with how the song had come together. Luke wiped his hands on his pants as if he were nervous.

“Luke- it is beautiful, I could not be more thankful for your help” you said, placing a hand next to him at the piano. You were unsure if you would be able touch him or go through him. He took the next step, placing his hand on yours.

But his hand did not go through instead it stayed planted on top of yours, drawing a gasp from your lips. You were stunned that you could feel him, knowing good and well that Julie goes right through him. You could see him leaning closer to you, so you leaned back.

“Luke, I’m not worth it. I’m fat, and ugly, and just not for you. You don’t want to be with me, you deserve someone like Julie. She’s the full package. Not me, I-I-I- I’m just not worth it” You stuttered, more than anything you wanted to be his. But you were not his vision of beautiful. You weren’t even that confident in yourself to tell him your feelings.

“Oh y/n, be quiet. You are so stunning, please don’t run away from me. We both know that song is about me. Please don’t hide from me, I spent 25 years alone and afraid of never finding love and then I met you. You may not feel good in your skin, but you are size beautiful and that is what matters” He pleaded, as tears pricked his eyes.

This was your moment, and you could not be more grateful, you feared being hurt. Every guy you had ever met always ran away when things got serious.

“Luke-” you started, but he continued to lean into you. Placing his calloused hand on her cheek, bringing your eyes to his as he got closer.

You just leaned into his hand more, as he brought his lips to yours. You felt a spark as his lips grazed yours softly, as he was trying to be a gentle as possible. You put your hand in his arm, pulling him closer to you.

You were so caught up in yourselves, that you missed Julie and the boys coming in. Julie just smiled, knowing that it was going to happen in time. The boys on the other hand seemed quite shocked, as Luke was never serious about anyone until you.

“AH FINALLY” Reggie said nice and loud, but Alex hit him in the stomach swiftly for interrupting you guys.

You pulled away, hiding your face in Luke’s shoulder as he placed his arm around your shoulder. He just placed a swift kiss to your temple, feeling a blush creep onto your face.

This was the first time in a long time, that you felt safe again. 

@lolychu​ @calamitykaty​ @parkeret​ @caitsymichelle13​ @gia-kerks​

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson smut #alex x reader #alex #reggie #reggie x reader #reggie julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms #julie and the fat ones #julie x reader #alex julie and the phantoms

[woogurl]

DISCLAIMER: I DO WOOSAN ANALYSIS, PLEASE SKIP IF U DON’T LIKE THIS SORT OF STUFF. I’M BY NO MEANS A PROFESSIONAL JUST SHARING MY OPINIONS. :)

so, i decided to make a san jealousy post because before i said i don’t think woo’s a jealous man, but now i think otherwise. however, unlike san woo is a lot more subtle(and at times he’s just outright brash with his jealousy) while san is a lot more transparent in general. so it’s easier to make a post about him. but i will include bonus moments or notable moments of woo’s jealousy. not only that, but we get less moments of woo being clearly jealous because san doesn’t give him much opportunity. ‘cause san is constantly giving him the attention he wants and is trying to woo him...

get it?

no? oke

anyway, i would like to preface this by saying jealous is not a bad emotion. in fact it’s not an emotion. it’s a feeling that every human experiences. unlike emotions a feeling is where you have a decent enough time to think about how to react to something. jealousy is often a feeling of insecurity. this may shock u but this includes ur idols. ‘cause u know they’re not robots. tho it’s understandable to get confused because they’re all so dreamy. but not the point. 

however, jealousy isn’t technically a good thing either and it can also derive from an unhealthy characteristic or trait of being possessive and territorial. to even someone’s detriment. especially if it makes the other party feel smothered, uncomfortable or constricted.  

now. the important question you’re wondering is whether i think san is possessive and territorial. 

well, yes, i do think he is a bit. but not to an unhealthy degree if u ask me. he isn’t overly dominating. such as making everyone else feel uncomfortable because he’s very careful not to impose himself on others. in fact i’d say san is mostly dominant/territorial and jealous because he’s insecure AND possessive.

but that’s enough talking let’s talk about moments of jealousy from san.

let’s start with some iconic jealousy moments that immediately come to mind when we’re talking about woosan. 

this moment where woo kissed seonghwa. as soon as san realized what was happening his body became stiff and awkward. just look at his face in the first ss. lmfao. he instantly became jealous and walked away and said. “i can’t watch this”. it was pretty obvious and his body and face also had a lot of tension which also shows displeasure. 

this moment where he became absolutely shocked that woo caressed seonghwa’s face. please note how he was looking at wooyoung as if he couldn’t believe that he would do something like that to him. san’s face instantly changes from smiling to just pure jealousy in response to woo’s actions.

let’s talk about subtle jealousy, i mentioned this moment in an interview analysis. https://woogurl.tumblr.com/post/620788572454371328/hey-i-wanted-to-make-a-small-mini-woosan for reference. 

as i pointed out before. san’s jealousy starts the second wooyoung places his hands on yunho. while the moments before show how easily triggered and jealous san can get. i feel like this interview clearly shows san’s possessive side. his jealousy consumes him to the point where he simply cannot focus at all during the end of the interview. it’s also interesting to see san genuinely seeing his members as a threat in this manner. 

let’s talk about another subtle jealous moment, however it’s also very open and aggressive body language. and i’m still surprised san reacted this way. but interesting moment that’s not often talked about. a friend sent this to me in dm a while ago. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26rscSxwIEU @ 5:25.

san was initially just minding his own business until he noticed woo talking to someone named tag. i was told that this was woo’s friend (ofc who isn’t woo’s friend at this point). as soon as san spotted them he started walking towards them. which surprised me because san is an introvert, he wouldn’t normally react like this in any situation but i def felt like san reacted more aggressively in this atmosphere because he’s aware isac is often a place where idols “meet" cough cough if u get what i mean.

as soon as san approached them he smacked woo hard and i mean hard af on the back. like damn. lol. something u should take note of is a persons status in a group is often revealed through body language. if a person uses dominant indirect/unconscious body language they’re displaying an indirect form of aggression. 

not only that but san adds himself into the conversation. not only that but he touches/tousles woo’s hair which is a pretty affectionate gesture. tag is close to woo but san keeps invading that small space between them and his body and feet are pointed towards woo. you can see tag talking to hj from a decent distance but san is literally taking up that small personal space between woo and tag. he touches woo’s side and continues to try and get closer. u can also see that woo is fidgety avoiding eye contact while san’s eyes and gaze are directly on woo and follows his every move. it’s lowkey scary how san’s eyes are scanning woo. and as soon as woo has to leave the whole convo between them ends abruptly. lol.

next thing i wanna talk about is neck touches. i’ve already made an analysis about this. https://woogurl.tumblr.com/post/626125803005116416/woosan-neck-touches-this-is-probably-one-of-the?is_related_post=1. but there’s been many more moments since then. and my initial opinion has only solidified since then. 

now i mentioned before that san doesn’t touch the other members neck as often as he touches woo’s neck. and definitely not as often as i thought he did. i mentioned before that does this either out of habit, to comfort or to assert dominance(it could even be all of them depending on the situation). and because san has shown signs of being possessive and territorial. i wouldn’t be surprised if the later was true. here are some recent ex.

san was pretty protective of woo during the surprise youtube vlive. his hands just couldn’t keep off him. lol. and woo as always is extremely comfortable with san’s skinship. not only that but i also think it genuinely comforts him when san does it.

this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAMfdeQ4DcM, was quite interesting. to me it was one of the most interesting recent interactions from them. yet people barely talk about it. lmfao. well it’s understandable ‘cause their interactions were def edited/cut but a lot of moments were cute but here. san was being more possessive and territorial than normal with woo. so much so that the staff literally had to move him. LOL. @4:30 san was lowkey jealous that woo chose yeosang(even tho san was first to volunteer himself) as his guard and not him. but it doesn’t matter because san still ended up next to him. lol. however after some time they moved him and i’m not entirely sure why. i won’t really go into depth about this moment because this post is meant to analyze san’s jealousy as an outcome of possessiveness/protectiveness. 

i would like to highlight again that i do not think san is possessive and territorial in a way that’s imposing. or in a way where he’s trying to dominate a conversation or propose himself as the ‘leader’. i think he’s this way because he’s naturally a caretaker. which is why he seems to want to protect those he genuinely cares about and are possessive over them.

next i wanna discuss this video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2XslMoD5h3M&list=WL&index=12&t=2s. this video is one where san was particularly touchy and possessive with woo. attempting to physically draw woo into him as much as possible. 

he starts touching woo @1:54. then, @2:15-2:33. and there’s a moment at 2:33 in particular that interest me.

san’s still touching woo, and if you ask me his touches with woo are a bit intimate. and on the side you see seonghwa’s hand on touch san’s waist. and it’s either because 1. he can’t see or 2. he’s warning san of something. @2:40 you can see it more clearly. 

as you can see, seonghwa can’t(omg, joke from gmm don’t mind me). anyway, seonghwa’s kind of leaning forward. but this could also be because he wants to be subtle with his warning to san. you see the thing about subtle moments are.....they’re subtle moments. lol. they’re supposed to be subtle. and when they’re this subtle it’s easy for people to go. ‘oh, you’re overreacting, he’s just looking over’. so for now, i’m gonna say he’s just trying to look over.  

now, i know people wanted me to put the part where san’s hands glide over woo’s back but this isn’t the sexual tension analysis. so anyway san’s hand is placed on woo’s neck @3:00-3:17 until he has to clap. lol. 

san’s back to touching woo @3:35, but seonghwa can’t see again, because san’s pretty pressed up against woo and he’s a little in front of seonghwa and seonghwa keeps trying to pull san back. but at this point what is he trying to see? lol. and if you watch carefully, immediately after hwa touches san’s arm. he moves it. so i’ll leave that up to u guys to interpret it as you wish. there’s a couple of more moments after that where seonghwa attempts to warn or pull san back. and i’m pretty sure it’s because san was being touchy. i’m gonna guess it’s because he really liked woo’s fit that day. 

i mean just look at the way he was looking at him at 3:50. his hands were firmly place on his neck and he was staring at him while licking his lips. 

now let’s talk about how my man san is literally draped over woo at this point @4:46. i wanna mention the way san’s no longer literally holding woo’s neck anymore(which is a pretty possessive gesture because the neck is a pretty intimate are and san feels like he owns woo’s neck or something). now he’s pressed even closer to woo and his arm is wrapped around his him. something san has always done even in predebut is wrap his arms around woo’s shoulder and to me that’s pretty evident body language that he wants to be physically closer to woo by drawing him into him and wants to get rid of space between them which is pretty evident esp in this ss. just look at woosan compared to everyone else. so the reason i added this moment is because it shows how possessive and touchy san to be kind of like displaying ‘he’s mine’ or ‘we’re super close, see?’ and everyone else is just minding their own business while hwa is probably inwardly freaking out. lmfao. 

here’s a similar moment/situation. https://www.vlive.tv/post/0-18364450. the vlive on idol radio with woosan as host. 

we start off the video with san holding woo’s neck. can i just reiterate how intimate this gesture is. also how san often does this to woo and rarely does it with others? just imagine your partner holding your neck like this. it’s a pretty intimate and possessive gesture. it’s not mentioned often but woo’s neck is pretty sensitive and he viscerally reacts when it’s touched by others intentionally intimately. lol. but anyway san holds woo’s neck for quite sometime and their body language is once again so different from everyone elses.

i also wanna mention that someone said the interview with oneus and mostly onf was awkward in my dm. esp the tension between wooyoung and the boy in the green and yellow sweater. i’m sorry i don’t know his name. xD i would have to watch again. ‘cause i’m not sure if there was tension but i do know woo was quite bold in starting their amicus ad aras thing. anyway the clip was relatively short so not much to be said.

next this vlive. https://www.vlive.tv/post/1-18386548. san was pretty hyper here. lmfao. excited from the start he was already clinging to woo. 

but we’re here to pinpoint possessive/jealous san. lol. he starts holding on to woo around 21:45-22:57. he holds on for quite a while. lol. 

he let’s wooyoung’s neck breath for a while before it’s yeosang comes in @23:07 and he grabs it again. lol. and at 23:38 as woo was gonna blow in yeosang’s ear san comes down to peck woo’s head and grabs his shoulders with both hands. lol. 

and of course he continues holding woo and gets closer to him and he checks to see if the staff is looking at him weirdly. lol. 

he holds on to him a while longer before yeosang finally get up. i would also like to say san was following woo around for a bit previously before this happened. lol. now as woo gets up the camera kind of goes somewhere else and jongho’s kind of in the way(it’s oke, we love to see his handsome face). so i couldn’t really see exactly what happened but @25:15 woo clings on to hwa and san’s like, ‘oh...alright’ lmfao. i also wanna mention woo tried to peak under hwa’s shirt. at this point we can say he’s not only an ass man but a tummy/abs man oke. anyway that’s it in conclusion san loves to touch and hold on to woo in any way possible. 

i also wanna mention the moments where san wraps his arms around woo’s waist, because i also think this is possessive/territorial body language. i’ve made a whole comp of this because san does it that often. 

THIS IS GETTING TOO LONG. so i wanna bring up a few of the online fansign moments. it difficult to interpret these because 1. they’re short clips without much context and 2. i don’t understand what’s being said but i’m gonna analyze this from body language alone.

so something we know about san is he often initiates contact first and i’ll be making an analysis talking about this soon. but anyway in a lot of these moments san is just in wooyoung’s space, but woo gets in san’s too and these moments make me realize woo can be just as possessive and territorial as san. because they crave for each others attention. (you can find most of these moments on woosan insta’s acc’s like kn nk, yowoosan, etc.)

here woo is talking to a fan but san suddenly pops out of nowhere and waves his hand as if he’s waving the fan away. i’m not sure what else this could have meant. i don’t think he was waving at the staff(who i think are in front of them) to leave ‘cause he was looking at the camera. he then left and came back and wrapped his arm around woo and left again and then came back and said something to woo, but woo looked annoyed. possibly bc he was trying to interact with the fan and san kept invading his space. to me it looked like san was being possessive, craving woo’s attention esp bc woo’s interest and attention was on the fan at that time.

i’m not gonna post all of the moments bc this post is already too long, but i think the fansigns showed how they both want each others attention and how possessive they can be. san’s jealousy appears more often because he’s just generally more transparent than woo. but anyway i’m tired, thas it. 

i’m gonna just do a separate post for woo, ‘cause it’s just too long. xD

#ateez #wooyoung #san #woosan #analysis

[karasimpno]

{Day 16} Till There Was You | Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Gn!Barista!Reader

Genre: coffee shop AU!! the MSBY jackals are in town and a certain wing spiker has his eye on YOU

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: none!:) fluff!

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

There was love all around but I never heard it singing. No I never heard it at all -  till there was you. —Till There Was You; The Music Man (music and lyrics by Meredith Wilson)

“Hey, hey, hey!” the ace called out, walking up to the booth you were tucked into at the coffee shop where you worked.

“You’re late!” you teased him with a smirk as he came to stand by your table.

“You’re right,” he said, grinning wickedly, taking your hand and pulling you out of the booth. “I should have asked you out sooner.” He pulled you to your feet, all energy and eagerness, but stopped you short, his face inches from yours. You held your breath, captured in the moment. Bokuto, seemingly exercising all of his self-restraint, slowly leaned in and planted the softest kiss to the side of your cheekbone. The feeling of his lips on your skin shot a tingle through your cheek and you felt heat rise to your face. Slightly flustered, you pivoted.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed then, if it was so obvious I’d say yes!” you teased, resisting the urge to entwine fingers with the pro volleyball player who had come in to visit your coffee shop every day for the past week.

The MSBY Black Jackals were in town for a training camp and extended tournament—you had learned that on the second day an impressive group of four men came into the small, poorly-lit coffee shop. This week your boring barista job had been spiced up by the orders of a tall, masked man with thick, dark curls (a small black coffee); a much shorter man with tangerine-orange hair who was almost half the size of the first (large decaf iced green tea, one sugar); a sharp-looking, clearly athletic man with two-toned hair (medium americano); and the broad-shouldered, golden-eyed sweetheart in front of you. He was by the far the biggest talker of the group even at 6:30am—you caught his attention immediately; he had looked a little dumbstruck, locking eyes with you when he first entered the desolated coffee shop, then quickly shaking his head and zooming over to you at the register with an enthusiastic hi! His friends had trailed in groggily behind him and it wasn’t until they caught up with him that he realized he actually didn’t drink coffee, and that he was only here to be with his friends. Blushing, he had stepped to the side to let them order, leaning against the display case (which you had to clean later) and elbowing the fake blond when his order came across as snippy in his morning attitude. But his eyes never left your face the whole time. You had wondered if he knew he was being so obvious, but he was really cute so...you didn’t mind. Something about the way his hair stood up stock-straight made his bone structure pop and you caught yourself sneaking glances more than once.

You hadn’t talked much to the athletic strangers that first day, not expecting the same group to return the following morning.

“Welcome back!” you had greeted as they walked in, feeling unusually cheery despite the dour expressions of the two tallest gentlemen, clearly not morning people.

That was the day that Bokuto finally introduced himself. He struck up a conversation with you, telling you about what he and his teammates were doing in town and asking you a little about yourself.

That same afternoon, you were quietly delighted when he returned by himself to buy a deli sandwich, explaining that he was on a lunch break from the training camp being hosted in the gymnasium across the street. The coffee shop was dead as ever and his bright smile had lit up the place. With a charming near-bashfulness, the owlish athlete admitted that he had also swung by because secretly had wanted to see you again too. His earnestness was so alluringly wholesome.

The next morning, he had come in alone, informing you with a grin that he had offered to grab drinks for the rest of his friends.

“That’s awfully kind of you, seeing as you never order anything for yourself,” you had said, side-eyeing him with a playful smirk as you made the first drink. “I wonder what could have—”

“When do you get off work today?” he blurted, too eager for his own good. You cleared your throat, fighting back a smile.

“I get off at noon today—”

“Oh shoot, we’re still in practice then!” Bokuto’s face had turned on a dime, his eyebrows drawing together and a shadow crossing his features. You had to resist the urge to reach across the counter to console the customer you’d met only a few days prior.

“—but Friday I’m completely off...” you continued. Bokuto lit back up and beamed at you again.

“Oh! Friday we just have a morning game then we’re supposed to rest!” his golden irises almost seemed to sparkle. “Do you wanna...maybe walk around downtown together after the game? I saw there’s this really cool river walk past the stadium—maybe I can buy you coffee?” he asked, full of enthusiastic energy. “You’re just...so cool! And I wanna spend more time with you!”

Your answer was an easy one, and it made him smile all the bigger at you, which warmed your heart. He was really such a sweet guy, and you did enjoy talking to him. It was a whirlwind, but every morning when he came in to order the same three drinks, his bright smile made your day, and you found yourself smiling a little more too throughout your shift, the empty coffee shop not seeming so dismal anymore. The three days leading up to your day off only built your anticipation to spend more time with him.

You had thought about going to see his game on your day off, but you decided you didn’t want to see him in action because it might make you unnecessarily nervous for the date. And so you waited at the coffee shop as you had agreed.

But then he had to go and just about knock you off your feet with that sweet, surprising little kiss to your temple, and you were flustered and nervous and....

“I’m sure you pick up baristas in every city you go to, you jetsetter,” you teased in response.

“Oh...oh no, Y/n, you don’t think I’m being insincere, do you?” he asked anxiously. His genuine concern startled you.

“Oh! Oh no, no, not at all! Sorry, I was just teasing,” you assured him, nudging him with your elbow, and you could practically see the relief in his golden eyes. He was so sweet.

“No,” he continued. “I don’t really... I dunno, I find it hard to approach people sometimes,” he admitted as the two of you walked out of the coffee shop where you had met.

“You??” you asked, bewildered that someone so outgoing could struggle approaching anyone.

“Yeah, I mean no, like don’t get me wrong, most people—I love being around and they make me really happy, but....When it comes to people like you I just...” he trailed off, looking away as you shot him a sidelong glance, sinking onto a bench along the river walk. “What about you?” he asked, energetically taking the seat beside you, his focus razor-sharp as ever. “You don’t seem to have many people to talk to at the coffee shop—I mean, I’ve never seen anyone in there and you always work alone. But... I don’t know, don’t you wish you had more people to see?”

You considered the question for a moment.

“Honestly... I kind of hate my job. It’s just pouring coffee and mixing drinks and.... Usually I actually prefer it when no one comes in. That way I can at least do things I want to do, like read, or work on my book but...I—” you trailed off, gazing toward the churning river alongside the path.

“What?” Bokuto asked.

“No, it’s just I...” you pinched your lips together with your teeth, feeling the familiar heat rise to your face again. Your heart beat just a little bit faster knowing those golden irises were on your face. “I used to feel that way, dreading when customers would come in, but it’s like.... Ever since you’ve showed up I don’t really...I don’t mind so much. In fact I actually kind of like it?”

“Oh yeah?” the corner of his mouth quirked up and he puffed out his chest a little. “Is it because you’re looking forward to seeing me?” he asked, half-teasing and half-genuine. He boldly grabbed your hand, resting your joined hands on his thigh and idly playing with your fingers, his eyes still on your face. Your heart skipped a beat and you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face.

“I mean,” you smiled bigger, “that’s part of it, for sure, but.... It’s more than that. It’s like...I appreciate the time more. It’s like you make me look at things a different way. Like—like for example, when you were pointing out how well-painted the birds and flowers in the mural over the sugar stand were—I had hardly even looked at it before! I’ve worked here for over a year and I had never even noticed something so obvious. And beautiful. Or on Wednesday, when you came in during lunch, and you did that goofy dance to the song on the radio—you made me laugh and actually enjoy the dumb station they make us play for once.” Bokuto was still listening intently, his thumb grazing over your knuckles. “It’s like, you just make me see things a different way, because of how you see them.” His eyes lit up in a way you hadn’t seen before. “I know, I’m being corny—”

“No,” he interrupted, his expression intense. You searched his eyes and felt yourself relax again, happy to be with the dork who had pursued you all week.

“You just sort of change my outlook. And I really like that about you,” you admitted, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. You two shared a moment of comfortable silence. Bokuto couldn’t believe that he’d made someone as wonderful as you...happier. Just because of him.

“Will you come to my game tomorrow?” he asked.

“Oh, I uh—” you hadn’t thought about it. You had nothing against it, now that you two had officially spent time together outside of the coffee shop, you just hadn’t thought about it.

“I—I love spending time with you and I just...I wanna know if you being at a game might be like me being at your coffee shop. You make me wanna play my best for you!”

You smiled. How could you say no to that face?

So you didn’t.

A/n: I was so worried about this one y’all!! It’s such a beautiful song for my beautiful baby boy. Give it a listen here! I was really inspired by the dialogue in the musical about the protagonist being someone who moves around a lot and instead of that being a shady thing, it’s an opportunity for wider perspectives! Anyway I just love Bokuto and would love to sing this with him....enjoy!!

taglist: @izagraceee @musicgetsmeoutofbed @azo-musxas @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops @harokat

#bokuto #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto koutarou x reader #elle writes #25 days of ficmas

[forbidding-souda]

if requests are open;; 25 from the prompt list with nagito? thank you 👉👈♥

25: “I wish I could be like you” Nagito Komaeda

Oml of course!! Komaeda is bae so I got you.

And though Komaeda is bae, I haven’t read a fic with him in like three years so idk how ya’ll fan kids usually portray him as so I’m gonna try my best LOL

Also stream “Why can’t I be you” by the cure (bc that’s like a Komaeda anthem)

-Mod Souda

Once again, you drift into the library.

It was your favorite part of the entire school.

The seclude, quiet place is a perfect place for you to relax. Your book bag, occupied with things like sketchbooks and a sewing kit rather than school-worthy supplies, suddenly gets a hand on it, and a hand that is not your own.

“Excuse me.”

You turn around, wondering how someone followed you in without you hearing them.

But once you see Nagito, you understand.

“Hey, clover.” You softly greet as your fingers find their way in his hair, pinching his split-ends.

“Judging my hair again? Wow, S/O... will I eveeeerrrr get a break?” He jokes, turning his head to brush his cheek against your hand.

His skin is soft. Almost delicate. And you fight against the urge to cup his cheek.

You turn around, returning to your usual route. “Let me cut your hair and I will let you off the hook.”

He jumps a bit to be able to walk by your side, but the tables cut him off, forcing him to walk behind you.

And there towards the end of the library, is your spot. But it is not at a table, nor on a chair. Between the last bookshelf and the wall, you had decorated it to your own liking. Gentle lights, a bean bag, a pile of books that you consider picking up.

Sometimes students will find it, sit in your spot, and then be on their way. It almost seems like a part of the library.

And though Nagito has never been back there with you, during his days of watching you around the school, he did notice you strolling back there, and went to investigate.

That was a long time ago, though. It puts a blush on his cheeks to think about you giving him permission to go back there with you. He must be special.

“I don’t have a second beanbag, so you can sit there.”

Quickly, he shakes his hands at you. “No, no, no, you should be the one to sit there.”

But, as always, you already predicted his answer.

So as he was talking, you took his hands into yours, holding them like they are the most fragile things in the world.

“But if you sit there than I can sit on your lap.” 

A noise of surprise leaves his lips before his face shifts into a shy one. Even though he still mildly disagreed with you, the idea of you pressed against him flattered him enough to sit down.

When she sits, you don’t hesitate to find a place in between his legs.

His body tenses only for a second. The thoughts, the constant ones that echo through his head a self deprecating melody, try to sway him against the idea of letting you even touch him.

But he knows better, and he would like to believe your hopeful words over the annoying thoughts in his head.

You pull your sewing supplies out of your bookbag, hesitating for a second before speaking. “Komaeda, do you want to draw? I have my sketchbook, too.”

“S/O, you have so many talents,” his words trail off, becoming distant, “I wish I could be like you.”

“Oh, Nagito, you are like me.” 

You hand him your notebook and pencils while you still ramble. “See, we are both smart, we are both students at Hope’s Peak, we are cute with pretty eyes... and many more things!”

Everything you say goes through one of his ears and out the other. In retrospect, you and him are very similar, in fact. You share a lot of opinions and interests. But he knows deep down that your life is more valuable than his will ever be.

“Okay,” he submits, “I’ll draw you a little something.”

“And it will be good, because you are talented.”

“Whatever you say.”

You turn to the left to give him more room to draw.

You begin sewing patches on spare clothes you carry around, minding your own business to the sound of pencil against paper.

Being this close to him mystifies you. His diaphragm is against your forearm, rubbing against you with each breath. You could kiss him if you wanted to.

Every once in awhile he will shift, his legs spreading out across the wooden floor.

“Alright~ I’m done.” His empty links around your waist, pulling you tighter to you. 

“Let’s see it!” You exclaim, him handing you your notebook back.

Inside is a drawing of you, you can tell by the hair. He made you mystic though, with cat ears and whiskers.

“You made me a cat! I love it.”

He blushes, running his fingers up and down your arms. “I’ll get my own sketchbook and fill it with drawings of you.”

“I have extra ones if you want.” You close the sketchbook, putting it back in your bag. You also tie the thread you were using, working to put your sewing items away.

“Are we leaving?” He asks, watching you pack up.

You smile. “Yep, let’s go to my house to pick up those extra sketchbooks, okay?”

#danganronpa #super danganronpa goodbye despair #sdr2 #sdr2 nagito #sdr2 Komaeda #nagito komaeda #komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #sdr2 nagito x reader

[draconica]

25: Keeping the other person warm

pspsps I wanted to see that praise kink too, bro  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Nick shut the front door on the howling wind as it tried to follow them indoors, having to grunt with the effort but managing to hear the click of the lock. He slumped against it with a breath of relief and turned to Ellis who was shaking the snow from his coat.

“Damn, that blizzard came outta nowhere!” Ellis remarked and removed his beanie hat, shaking out his hair.

Nick nodded as he reached out to grasp Ellis’ shoulder, steadying himself as he toed off he shoes. They were only his loafers – he hadn’t planned on wearing them for snow, so now his feet were freezing. “God damn it,” he mumbled, taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the closet by the front door, then moved both his shoes and El’s boots into the shoe racks. “Crank the heat up, would you, sport?”

“Already done,” Ellis called as he turned up the dial on their thermostat. The young hick then moved through into the living room, peering out their front-facing window. “Shit, would’ya look at it! Looks like Narnia out there already.”

Nick joined him, placing a casually affectionate hand onto Ellis’ lower back. “Well, no poker for me tonight,” he sighed, mentally ripping up that evening’s plans to go to a buddy’s house for a few games.

“I’ll go put the groceries away,” the southerner remarked, rubbing his hands to try and warm them up a little.

“Do that,” replied Nick. “I’m gonna sort something out in here.”

Ellis waved a hand at him, not really paying enough attention to ask what the ‘something’ Nick had in mind would be. He just busied himself with putting away the food they’d bought and trying to keep moving, hoping it would warm him up a bit.

“Jeez, Nick… why’d you buy so many jars o’ pickles?” Ellis grimaced – he’d always hated pickles, but Nick loved them. Just one of many compromises they’d had to settle over the last year. The mechanic continued to unload the groceries until his hand found a bottle and blushed upon pulling it from the bag. It was a bottle of lubricant, a new kind they hadn’t yet tried – a special tingling variety. Nick… that sly bastard. He must’ve slipped it into the cart when Ellis wasn’t looking. Instead of setting it aside to take up to the bedroom later, Ellis slipped it into his pocket, biting his lip a little as he imagined what it would be like to use it. He wondered just how long it would be before they did.

Once he was done, he tossed the paper bags into the recycling and walked back into the living room, pausing when he noticed something was different. First of all, the fireplace had been ignited for the first time since they’d moved in, bathing the room in luscious orange warmth. And secondly, a bundle of thick white blankets had been laid across the couch. In amongst them was his boyfriend, the blanket pulled up to his chin as he looked up at Ellis expectantly.

“Well, I’ll be a bull’s breakfast,” Ellis chuckled, shaking his head. “So this is what’chu were up to in here?”

Nick said nothing. Instead he simply pulled the blankets away from beside him, leaving the space open for Ellis to shuffle in. It wasn’t too often that Nick was willing to cuddle, and would go to such lengths to do so. Perhaps this was just his ingenious way of dealing with the cold?

“El, you coming in or not? The longer I leave a gap in these covers, the colder we’ll be under here.”

He thought so.

Ellis rolled his eyes a little and removed his hoodie before pausing, shrugging, and removing his jeans and t-shirt aswell. Now in just his boxers, the Georgian climbed onto the couch and crawled next to Nick, tugging the covers back over them both and making sure they were tucked in nicely. The younger man looked up at his lover with a smile as they snuggled up closely, both their arms around each other. “This is one o’ yer better ideas,” he murmured.

“What?” Nick opened one eye, tilting his head slightly. “All of my ideas are good ones.”

Ellis had to chuckle again, rubbing his cheek against Nick’s shoulder and allowing one of his hands to gently smooth over his lover’s chest. “Oh yeah? What about that one time you put that Chinese takeout in the microwave while it was still in its cardboard container?”

The conman snorted a little, looking away. “It was only a small fire.”

But Ellis wasn’t finished compiling a list of Nick’s past accidents. “Or that one time the barbecue wasn’t lightin’ so you poured, like, a whole can of gas onto it?”

“Alright,” Nick turned and hushed his lover with a kiss. “Just be glad this fire turned out okay.” He nodded to the fireplace in front of them, blazing away with the occasional comforting crackle. The homeliness of the situation was incredibly charming.

“Love you,” whispered the mechanic, tilting his chin upwards so that he could bury his face into Nick’s neck, something the gambler liked and accepted.

“Love you too, kiddo.” He turned his eyes back to the window. It was almost dark outside, the sky was so gray with heavy cloud, even more snow flurrying down. “Shit, I wonder how deep it’s gonna get?” he chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s a good thing we just went food shopping, we might be stuck at home for a while if this keeps up.”

Ellis peeked out from his bundle of blankets to have a look for himself. “Man, look at it out there. Hope we don’t get bored.” He shuffled slightly under the covers, nuzzling his lover’s shoulder again. “Lord, and I’m still cold…”

Nick sighed, feigning annoyance, as he tugged Ellis even closer. “C’mere,” he whispered, turning the tables on his lover slightly by moving his face into Ellis’ neck, beginning to kiss and nuzzle there. He was starting to get another one of his brilliant ideas on how they could turn up the heat even more.

And Ellis seemed to warm to the idea very much so, sifting his hand through Nick’s hair and encouraging his affections. With a hum, he turned his body a little more towards the gambler’s, trying to gather as much heat between them as they could. Fortunately, it also meant their chests could press together, Nick’s slightly furred pecs grazing over Ellis’ smoother ones.

“Nick,” whispered Ellis, by now trying to get as much contact between them as possible. “Please tell me we ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

“Take another look outside,” Nick chuckled, his hand finding Ellis’ and trailing slowly up his arm. “We probably won’t be leaving the house for a fucking week.”

Leaning back into the couch, Ellis pulled Nick with him until he was almost on top of him. “More than enough time for what I’m thinkin’.”

There was a small glint in Nick’s eye that sparkled just before he leant in for a heated kiss with his lover, pressing him into the back of the couch. It wasn’t always that Nick and Ellis were on the same page about something (more often than not, Nick wondered if Ellis was on the same fucking book) but one of the things they agreed on the most was the right times for sex. Though Nick did like to initiate such things more often, Ellis tended to get more touchy-feely while the pair were in bed together after a long day and they both needed winding down. This time it was ingenious. They could kill two birds with one stone, finding a way to combat both the cold and the boredom.

Ellis gave a long hum of content as Nick’s hands began to wander over his body, trailing over the deep-set lines of his chest muscles. Eventually, as Nick’s fingers went lower to his hips and stomach, Ellis couldn’t help it – he started to giggle.

“C’mon, Nick,” the mechanic blushed harshly, trying to move back slightly from his fingers. “You know I’m ticklish there.”

Nick pulled away from where he’d been kissing his neck. “That’s exactly why I did it, babe.”

“I hate ’chu, sometimes- oh, Nick…” Ellis writhed a little closer to Nick again as the older man’s hand rubbed between his legs, teasing the tent of his boxers even higher.

Nick grinned against the golden skin of Ellis’ neck, his plan set in motion quite nicely. The hick began to buck his hips into the stroking, pawing motion of his older lover’s hand. It soon became clear that Nick was intent on teasing him as he usually liked to do, drawing the foreplay out for as long as possible. And so the smaller man initiated his own plan.

Bracing one hand onto Nick’s shoulder, Ellis pushed his lover until they rolled on the couch and he ended up straddling Nick, pinning him to the cushions with his knees on either side of the man’s hips. The sudden manoeuvre had caused the blankets to fall away slightly, revealing more of their skin to each other. In the orange glow of the fireplace, it was even more inviting. Ellis got immense satisfaction from seeing Nick’s expression turn from surprise to arousal in a matter of seconds.

“You ain’t the only one with tricks up yer sleeve, fancy suit,” purred the Georgian, his hands rubbing Nick’s shoulders as he leant down for a hot kiss. The conman returned it with full fervor, hands travelling over Ellis’ body now that he had more room to do so and in turn the kisses grew more hurried, both men already feeling the heat like it was contagious.

Nick grunted and pushed the blankets off the couch entirely, the bundle falling to the floor unneeded. “Too hot,” he murmured against Ellis’ lips as the younger man cupped his face.

“Perfect,” Ellis replied and began to move his hips against the other man, panting at the friction caused by their underwear. Nick gave a strained noise at the back of his throat at the movements, as his hands went straight to Ellis’ ass and tugged him even closer, encouraging his lover as much as he could. The only times they broke apart from kissing was to moan and whisper sweet come-ons to each other.

Ellis knelt up a little, his head rolling back as Nick’s lips moved across his chest, purring against the smooth skin. He carded his fingers through the thin hair at the back of Nick’s head, scratching his scalp lightly. And Nick responded in kind, slipping his hands beneath the band of Ellis’ boxers and pushing them over the curve of his rump.

“Jeez, Nick,” panted the kid, gasping as his erection finally sprung free from his underwear. He gave his lover a slight smile before backing off the couch to fully undress, pulling off Nick’s briefs while he was up. Another purr left this throat as he stood up before the older man, looking at him with a cheeky smile as he caught those green eyes rake up and down his naked body. “Like what’chu see, mister gamblin’ man?”

Nick responded by licking his lips, gesturing to his erect cock. “What do you think?”

Ellis bit his lip and reached to the floor for his coveralls, his mind going back to the lube in his pocket he’d unpacked from the groceries earlier. Guess they were going to be using it sooner than he thought. “Tingling lube, Nick?” He held it up in his hand.

“I’d try anything once,” shrugged the conman, by now rubbing himself.

The sight urged Ellis on, not wanting to wait any more for the both of them. Not breaking eye contact with his lover, he slowly got down on his knees until he was between Nick’s legs, the man’s erection rising to greet him. There was a knowing glow to Ellis’ blue eyes and Nick recognised it instantly – it had sent his arousal spiralling many a time before. There was only a small flash of a boyish grin from Ellis before he took a hold of Nick’s cock and guided it to his lips, teasing the head with his tongue as if licking up ice cream.

“God damn it, El,” huffed Nick as his head fell back, eyes closing. It wasn’t frustration – anything but – it was more a realisation and rediscovery of how kinky and dirty Ellis could get. His tongue could work true worldly wonders on whatever part of Nick’s body he decided to lavish with it. At the moment, it was curling around his dick head, tracing the dips and curves of the shaft, his eyes occasionally flicking up to give him a predator gaze. Nick returned it with a look of his own, one that begged Ellis for something else – silently so. Nick rarely begged out loud. Thankfully, Ellis took the hint, well versed in their mutual language, and came up for a small breather before sinking his mouth down onto his erection and bringing him in as far as he could.

If Nick hadn’t been aroused beyond hell, he would’ve been completely embarrassed by the noise that he’d made. Mind you, he took complete credit for how good Ellis was at giving blowjobs. Before they’d met, the mechanic had never sucked a dick in his life. While it did make for some awkward first times when Ellis would nearly choke on the length, mumbling timid apologies, now, two years down the line, he easily rivalled any Las Vegas whore who did it for a living. And Nick was proud to say it was from his own valuable teachings that Ellis picked it up so naturally. Like now as he swallowed Nick at the back of his throat like it was nothing. The conman couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment in their relationship when Ellis’ gag reflex had stopped working, but he was just glad it had.

Judging by his moans, he was very glad.

On one particularly good suck, Nick could feel the pleasure in his lower stomach start to coil up and acted quickly, reaching for his lover and tugging his hair gently. “Ngh, off…”

Ellis obeyed and pulled away, licking his lips and admiring the work he’d done. He was pretty pleased with himself to say the least if the grin on his face was any indication. But he wasn’t about to stop there. Gingerly, he picked up the lubricant one more time and squirted a little into his palm. “You were the one so keen to use this,” he reasoned, rubbing it between his hands and feeling it tingle already.

Nick gave a shrug, though had a smug look on his face. “Thought it might be fun.”

The younger man winked at him. “Well, let’s see, shall we?” He leaned in and wrapped his hand around Nick’s cock, paying close attention to his lover’s face. It was rewarding when the older man gasped, his hips melting back into the couch slightly, and gave a small chuckle.

“Shit… it feels kinda nice,” he surmised, and Ellis knew what would make it better. Gently, he began to move his hand up and down, slowly massaging and coating Nick from top to base. It was a move that seemed to meet with approval when Nick hissed and leant his head back. “Overalls,” he moaned, one of his hands going up to cover his eyes.

Ellis rested his chin on Nick’s thigh and watched him dreamily, his lubricated hand never stopping. There was something so delicious and satisfying about being the one to break the conman like this and also being the only one to see the more submissive, intimate side of him. The young Southerner flicked his gaze between Nick and his erection, purring as he watched it shine in the fiery orange glow. Moving it slightly towards himself, he subtly licked the head, tracing the tip with his tongue. “You had enough, yet?”

Nick’s mouth was open, breathing shallowly at all the sensations assaulting him at once. “Holy shit.”

With a triumphant smirk, Ellis moved up to kiss his boyfriend some more while at the same time climbing back aboard to straddle his lap. Moans and short breaths filled the room as well as the smacking of their kisses, the intensity growing by the second. Reaching around, Nick grabbed Ellis’ ass in a squeeze and tugged him closer, a dominant purr leaving his lips.

“Baby,” he crooned as one on his hands curved around the cheek, his finger finding and teasing Ellis’ pucker. The action had a desired effect when the hick gave a small whine, his backside cantering back into the touch.

“Yer a damn tease,” Ellis gasped and Nick just gave him a look that promised more. A promise he kept moments later when he penetrated the hole with one finger, teasing in a second not long after. And if Ellis thought he was winning the game of who could make their lover moan the loudest, then he was sorely mistaken as a particularly loud moan was torn from his lips.

Nick broke into a triumphant grin, opening his mouth against the younger man’s in a soft sigh of satisfaction. “Hold on tight, killer.”

Obediently, Ellis clasped his hands behind Nick’s neck and leant back on the man’s lap, using his knees to lift himself up a little. He levelled the gambler with a lusty look, pinching his lower lip between his teeth as he felt Nick’s hands part his behind and guide him down, gently and carefully. It was a frequently practised act for them to say the least and Nick knew exactly what Ellis liked, how to go about doing it and most importantly how to read his lover’s reactions perfectly. Right now, his eyebrows were pinched in concentration, the corners of his lips quivering a little as they gradually became joined together in the most intimate way possible. It amused Nick to no end.

“Feel good?” he asked around a chuckle, running both his hands up and down Ellis’s waist.

“Y-yeah,” replied the hick, showing Nick a smile of his own. “Sure does tingle.”

Nick was a sneaky bastard at the best of times and barely gave Ellis a chance to get used to the feeling before he bucked his hips up into Ellis roughly. The mechanic yapped and grabbed a hold of his lover’s shoulders while his mouth hung open. “Down boy,” he teased, making Nick smirk.

“Never heard you complain about that before,” the gambler chuckled before readjusting his grip and bouncing Ellis in his lap.

The mechanic soft moans filled the fire-lit room as he rode his lover’s cock like a practised rodeo rider. Nick bit his lip as he watched his young boyfriend’s face begin to relax, eyebrows pinching in pleasure and pillowed plush lips parting. Ellis could see just how much this was ticking Nick’s boxes and leant in to treat his lover to hot kisses. He began to pant against his mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ good, Nick,” he purred, melting into a moan as he continued to grind his hips down. Nick let out a groan, and Ellis smiled as he went on. “So good to me… ain’t no one better than you, darlin’.”

Nick grunted as he pushed his shoulders more firmly into the couch and kept up the pace of his thrusts, trying to fuck Ellis into more talk just like that. “Yeah?” he responded, eyebrow twitching upwards. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”

Ellis opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sudden strike to his prostate, bringing a gasp to his lips. “Christ. N-Nick… ain’t nothin’ better than when yer inside'a me. Y-you… you’re the best I’ve ever had…” The younger’s head tipped back as he desperately seek out that perfect angle again.

With a gasp of his own, Nick reached up and grabbed Ellis’s hair to give him a tug. “Say it again,” he husked while his gaze was transfixed down, watching his boyfriend ride him like he was so good at doing. Ellis was all too happy to oblige.

“Yer the best.. I’ve ever had,” he panted, feeling the sting of Nick’s hand on the back of his head. “I love ya so much… you get me so goddamn hot… ah, Lord, Nick!”

By now Ellis was rolling his hips like thunder in search of release, helped along when the older man offered him a hand, curling his fist around the mechanic’s cock and giving him something to fuck into. Nick was already lost in the heat as those song-like praises hit his ears but now that Ellis was taking control the way he was, the end was getting closer and closer. There was just something about his Southern lover spouting praise during sex the way he did that was like pornography.

Nick let go of Ellis’s hair and reaffirmed his hands on the younger’s hips. “El, I’m close,” he warned.

“Inside me,” Ellis replied, looping his arms around Nick’s neck once he settled into an angle that worked wonders for him. He panted against Nick’s lips. “Please!”

With a roar of pleasure, Nick’s fingers went white around Ellis’s hips as he hit a climax that touched every nerve in his body. He made good on Ellis’s wish and filled him up just as a long moan arrived from his lover, his cock convulsing between them as he released at last. Nick moved his hand back to pump him through his orgasm until Ellis humped his last and fell forwards. Nick caught him easily and shut his eyes.

“God damn,” he husked, feeling Ellis’s head nod a little before kisses were pressed to his shoulder. He looped his arms around his lover, brushing softly over the smooth and slightly sticky skin. Nick chuckled. “Guess that warmed us up, right?”

“Yeah.” Ellis eventually moved back and off to look at his lover, not wasting time to kiss him as their lust subsided. He then looked back out of the window at the blizzard that was blanketing the world in white. “Don’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon.”

Nick had just finished wiping them both off with a tissue, throwing it to the trash can across the room (and missing) before looking up also. “Reckon we’ll be doing this for a while, then.”

Ellis gave him a look. “Nick, if we’re gonna be spendin’ the entire snow storm havin’ sex then can I at least make some snacks first?”

The gambler snorted, reaching up to tuck a loose curl behind Ellis’s ear. Leaning into the touch, Ellis curled himself back into Nick’s side but not before reaching down to retrieve their previously forgotten blanket, wrapping them both up in a nest they would be reluctant to leave.

“Hey Nick?”

“Yeah?” The man opened one eye to peer down at him.

Ellis blushed, pushing his face into Nick’s neck. “You’re also the best at cuddlin’.”

Nick chuckled and brushed his lips against El’s temple softly. “It’s because I’m cuddling you, Overalls.”

#anonymous #nellis #l4d2 nellis #nick/ellis

[theravenclawrevolutionary]

In one last celebration of Maxime's birthday here's a collection of three birthday scenes from my novel wip about him! This post is fairly long and certainly unpolished so read at your own risk.

Excerpt from Chapter One, featuring newborn Maxime

"Isn't he wonderful mon amour," Jacqueline asked her husband, tearing her eyes away from her son for the first time since he'd been placed in her arms. "Absolutely wonderful! And to think," she said pausing to look into François' eyes. "He was born out of love. Not everyone can say that for themselves."

"You're right," François muttered, thinking back to the day Jacqueline had told him that she was pregnant. She'd told him a month or so after they had done the very thing that caused it. He had been courting her on and off for a little more than a year and one night the two had let their emotions and desires get the better of them in the worst way possible.

The night Jacqueline told him, François had done two things. First he had gone out and drank for quite a considerable length of time. While he was out he had decided that he was going to marry Jacqueline. At the beginning of their still-new marriage, there were times when he wasn't sure whether he did it for his honor or the sake of Jacqueline and the child. Now, he realized, as he sat with his own little family, it didn't matter who he originally did it for. Either way, he'd made the right choice.

Yet even after they had promised to marry, the two were the talk of Arras. Everyone knew everyone there and all it seemed anyone could talk about was the brewer's daughter, her scandalous relationship with the well-known attorney, and the swiftly growing child that was the result. There had been numerous occasions several months before they were set to be married, and he'd been so terrified of what others would say and whether or not he was ready for such a commitment that he'd almost called off the entire thing. His own parents hadn't even attended the ceremony when it finally came around and Jacqueline's parents only went because witnesses were required. Yet here he was, four months married with a beautiful newborn son and a wife that he loved.

The child shifted his small arm slightly, inadvertently drawing his parents’ attention back to him. His tiny eyes opened slightly for a fraction of a second, revealing pale green irises that matched his mother's. Gently, trying her best not to disturb the child, his mother bent down to kiss him on the head. A few moments went by in comfortable silence. The three sat together, warm, and filled with love.

"He's going to be named after you, you know." François looked away from Maximilien's peaceful face, startled at his wife's words. She laughed slightly and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What?" Francois was completely taken aback.

“He's going to be named after you. Maximilien François; that's going to be his name." Jacqueline smiled up at her husband and shifted even closer against him, enjoying the slightly surprised expression on his face. Her husband was not usually an easily surprised man so she took great pride in the times she did manage to surprise him. "We've talked about this before, you know. It was the night I told you about him. I told you that after you came back to me." She refrained from adding, 'Not that you were sober enough to remember it.' As well as things had turned out, her husband’s fondness for alcohol did occasionally tend to cause problems when his emotions ran high enough. She could smell it faintly on his breath.

There had been no expectation of all-encompassing joy that night. It had been terrifying to say, like a criminal confessing his crime to a condemning judge. Her lips had trembled and her eyes had filled with tears as her lover approached their meeting place.

Francois had greeted her with a kiss to her hairline, his dark eyes taking in her pale face. He’d said some words as well, but Jacqueline didn’t hear them. Her own words spilled from her lips, burning as they left. Francois froze for a few moments like an animal caught in a trap. He made to move toward her and for a moment she thought that perhaps everything would be alright in the end. He fled. And then he’d returned.

Jacqueline could remember looking up at him from the place she had sat crying for hours. She could remember smelling the alcohol strong on his breath and clothes as he fumbled over his words. But she could also remember him kissing her cheek softly with one hand resting gently on her stomach and telling her that everything was going to be alright. And everything was. He’d gone out and bought a ring, and tried, really tried, to make things right. Jacqueline was so lost in her memories that she almost didn't hear the soft sound of her son fussing in her arms.

"Shhhh," she crooned sleepily, holding the child close to her chest. One hand reached out of his blankets for a moment and François tucked it back in as gently as he could manage. "Hush little Maxime. You will be alright. Nothing will happen as long as your father and I are here, and we always will be." Quietly comforting their son, Jacqueline and Francois sat together in peaceful darkness until the priest came to baptize him.

Excerpt from Chapter two, featuring six-year-old Maxime

“Come on little man. Let’s show you your gift shall we?” François headed for the door, making sure that Maximilien ducked his head before stepping outside. The street was mostly empty and the sky was still cloudy and grey, but the fresh smell of the recently finished rain filled their nostrils and the sound of their own laughter filled their ears. Jaqueline, walking slowly because of her pregnancy, and the other children with their little legs followed the pair out of the house. Maximilien gasped.

“Birds! You got me birds, Papa? Oh, thank you! Thank you, Papa!” A small wooden cage containing two gray doves chirping softly sat beside the door. Maximilien knelt down beside it and stuck his fingers through the slats, hoping that one of the birds would come land on his finger. He felt the water on the road soak into the knees of his breeches but ignored it. He was too entranced by the birds to care.

“You like them then,” Jacqueline asked smiling. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from her son.

“Oh yes! I love, love, love them! Do they have a name already? Or can I name them?”

“Go right ahead darling,” Jacqueline said, lifting Augustin into her arms. “They’re yours now. But you have to promise to take care of them, alright?” He nodded earnestly.

“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to cry! Wait… is it die? Hmmm… I dunno.” He paused to think for a few moments. “I’m going to name them um… Sunny and… and Tart!”

“They’re so cute,” Henriette squealed, pushing her way past her parents. “Can I pet one Maxime?” He made a face but nodded anyway.

“I guess so. But be nice. You gotta be gentle.” Maximilien took her little hand in his and slowly guided it towards the birds. They squawked a little and ruffled their feathers slightly but allowed the two to pet them.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Lottie look! See them?” Charlotte giggled and joined her siblings by the cage. François and Jacqueline smiled at each other in the setting sun.

It had taken a significant amount of time to get him to bed that night. He kept finding his way back to the cage which had been moved to his bedroom.

“Maximilien lay down!” He sighed and stormed over to his bed, stomping his feet and glaring at his mother as he went. “If you don’t behave, you’re going to have to be punished.” He flopped onto the bed.

“But Maman,” he protested. “I want to play with my birds!”

“If you don’t go to sleep you won’t be allowed to visit Grand-mère and Grand-père tomorrow. And I know you were so looking forward to it." Those words seemed to have the desired effect because Maximilien nearly fell out of bed as he scrambled under the bedsheets and pulled them up around his chin. “I thought you might see it that way darling,” Jacqueline said, smoothing her son’s hair and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Maximilien fell asleep easily that night with a smile on his face and the sound of his birds chirping quietly in the corner.

Excerpt from Chapter 25, featuring thirty-one-year-old Maxime

May 6th proved to be an interesting birthday. Most of the day was spent in the palace assembly hall that housed all the meetings of the Estates-General, listening to the bickering of hundreds of men. It was also discovered that, though the representation of delegates from the Third Estate had been doubled, the entirety of the men gathered still shared one vote. Outraged at the holdover from the outdated 1614 meeting, several men voiced their opinions on the largest class receiving the same number of votes as the minuscule portion of society represented in the First and Second Estates, none too quietly either. For Maximilien, a large portion of the assembly was spent gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the pounding headache forming behind his eyes.

Camille, who Maximilien hadn’t known to be around Versailles, found where he was staying and gifted him a surprise visit that night.

Maximilien had been sitting at the rickety desk in the half-light of the setting sun, scribbling down a few lines of poetry into his journal, when the knock came.

“Um… hel- hello,” a muffled, but familiar, voice asked from the other side. “Is this where Maxime, I mean Monsieur de Robespierre is staying? I’d heard that it is.”Maximilien sprang to his feet, removing his glasses and setting them beside the journal before running his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb it into some semblance of order.

“Camille? Is that you? What are you doing in Versailles?!”

“Yes. It’s me. Let me in and I’ll tell you.” Maximilien opened the door and Camille, with his curls dancing wildly about his head, bounded into the room. He embraced Maximilien with a grin and kicked the door closed behind him. “Oh! Right. Happy birthday by the way. That is the whole reason I stopped by after all.” Maximilien gestured to the delicate desk chair he had just been sitting at.

“Ah. Thank you. Would you… would you like to sit down? I feel as if you’ll be staying for quite some time.” Camille complied and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, holding his breath a little as he did so, clearly hoping it wouldn’t break under his slight frame. “I’d offer you refreshments, but I feel that it’s painfully obvious that I have none.”

“That’s alright. I realized about halfway here that I should have brought you a gift of some sort.”

“I’m sure the tales of what you’ve done since we last spoke will be a gift on its own.” Camille laughed, the warm sound filling the dark cramped room and bringing back fondly bittersweet memories from their years at Louis le Grand. “So please, enlighten me as to what’s delivered you to the same place as I. And any other stories you find worthy of mentioning.”

“I haven’t been elected to the Estates-General as you well know,,” he began. “I wanted to so incredibly badly, but the men back in Guise aren’t nearly as fond of me as you are. I failed, almost certainly because of their distaste, but living in Paris for so long before with nothing but occasional visits home certainly didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry.” Camille dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand.

“No matter. I’ve been enjoying myself to some degree. My law practice sputters out now and again, but it always comes back around. I write for newspapers on occasion too.”

“How’s Martin,” Maximilien asked, fearing the answer. He had little hope that their relationship had lasted the extent of nine years. “Are you two still together.” Camille let out a barking laugh still tinged with sadness, even after many years.

“No. I apparently was a ‘flight of schoolboy fancy” who was being used for cheap entertainment and all that. He was crying when he told me though. I think it was a lie. His father found out about us. But Martin doesn’t matter. I’m courting a girl now. Lucille Duplessis. She’s very, very pretty, extremely sweet, intelligent for her age, and, unlike Martin, she’s deemed proper by society. I’ve fallen head over heels for her and she seems to feel the same way unless she’s a fucking fantastic actress! Contrary to what her father has to say, I think we’re a good match.”

“Oh… That’s nice. I’ll have to meet her someday. I am sorry about how everything ended with Martin though.”

“‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Is that all you can say Maxime? You need to relax a little. Tell me, what have you been up to recently?”

“Life in Arras has been good to me since graduation. Not only has my law practice been mildly successful but I’ve also been elected to the Royal Academy of Arras and I spend a lot of time writing poetry. Living with Charlotte was not disagreeable either. We live in a small house we’ve been renting on the Rue du Saumon. It’s only a short walk to my office and an even shorter one to the parish church where my grandparents and mother are buried. In this time I have also realized a… a specific vein of fondness not only for ladies but a few gentlemen as well.”

“Maxime!” Camille’s tone was incredulous and a bit proud. “You’ve turned yourself into a right little rake, haven’t you!” Maximilien sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as his eyebrows knit.

“Not fondness in the physical way for either of them, like you, Camille,” he said hurriedly, trying to make himself clear. “I know these feelings to be of a solely romantic fashion. Additionally, no feelings have resulted in anything, hindered by my inability to flirt and to detect when someone else is flirting with me in return.”

“Poor Maxime,” Camille said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm and his hazel eyes shining. He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing out the curls. “Whatever shall you do?”

“Devote my time to helping others. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. You know that.”

“And I expect that’s why you wanted to be here, isn’t it. You wanted to be around when the revolution starts.” Maximilien raised an eyebrow. Camille cocked his head. “We’ve been discussing the inevitability of one for years. The Americans did it. They were fed up and they did something about it. We all know it’s only a matter of time before it happens. Danton, a friend of mine back in Paris, you really ought to meet him someday, believes it will happen soon as well.” Maximilien sighed and nodded. Camille was right, a fact he usually hated to admit. Even Arras and its surrounding small towns were rife with talk of forcing change on the country. Even at school, many years ago, the general consensus had been that reforms, real, meaningful reforms were due any year.

“You’re right, of course,” agreed Maximilien. “What better way to help people than to play an active part in achieving their will. I do hope that our ‘revolution’, as you are so fond of calling it, is more civil than the American’s though. What good can come to the people if we must wage war against ourselves?”

“Someday when the two of us are famous and well known from all the good we’ve done for France people will print little books, like those books with bible verses in them or short prayers, but instead they’ll be filled with quotes by you. You’ll have to start saying things like that all the time and hope that I don’t start selling a separate one with all your naughty quotes from Louis le Grand in it.”

“Unlike you Camille, I see no fame or fortune in my future in relation to politics.”

“If you say so Maxime. But I’m not sure how you’re going to help all of France if that’s the case."

#french revolution #frev #robespierre #maximilien robespierre #history #robespierre novel #frev wip #creative writing #joyeuxanniversaire

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 6: You Know You Got Me In The Palm Of Your Hand]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Mean It by Lauv.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex and violence, slavery in American history.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @writerxinthedark​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​​​ @escabell​​​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​​​​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​​​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @some-major-ishues​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​ @loveandbeloved29​​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

What The Fuck, Washington Animals Are Weird

I woke up in a bedroom drenched in a rainbow of darkness, shades of grey vacillating from charcoal to the wings of a mourning dove; indolent dawn rain pattered against the window. There were no glaring veins of sunlight spilling in through gaps in the curtains, no promise of dry invigorating heat, no whistle of vicious parched wind. Toto, we’re not in Phoenix anymore.

“Ugh,” I complained to the empty room, unraveling from a tangle of blankets patterned with cacti and pure white clouds and rust-orange suns.

I clicked off my iPhone alarm—I’d beaten it by two minutes; my circadian rhythm was finally conceding that this whole Pacific Time thing was permanent—and read my nine new texts from Joe.

3:12 a.m.: Hey it’s an emergency what’s the plural of octopus

3:13 a.m.: Rami is insisting that it is octopuses

3:14 a.m.: But it’s octopi, right? Right?? I just announced in front of everyone that it’s octopi

3:15 a.m.: Scarlett is verbally abusing me

3:18 a.m.: Oh you are probably asleep

3:21 a.m.: Update, according to the internet Rami is right and now I have to assume a new identity and move to Antarctica

3:25 a.m.: We can discuss logistics of the Antarctica relocation tomorrow

3:26 a.m.: Hope you like penguins

3:30 a.m.: Okay goodnight!! Don’t let the mythical creatures bite!!

“That man,” I murmured to myself, smiling.

I typed out: It’s definitely octopuses, you clown. Then I deleted ‘clown’ and replaced it with its Italian equivalent: pagliaccio. Text sent.

Joe responded almost instantly. I had to ask Lucy what pagliaccio meant and now she’s verbally abusing me too. Send help. See you at lunch. xx

Wait, two Xs? What did Xs mean?? Kisses???

Did Joseph Francis Mazzello, sexy undead Italian man, just send me multiple text kisses?

“You’re gonna give me an aneurism, Chicago boy,” I muttered at my phone as I slid it into the pocket of my flannel pajama pants. And then I glanced out the bedroom window into a tussle of rain and thick, caliginous fog.

Just a few feet beyond the misted glass, its leathery talons hooked around a branch of Charlie’s decades-old red alder tree, was an owl. But not just any owl. A hulking, spotlessly white owl.

“Oh, hey, you,” I whispered, leaning closer, pressing my palms against the cold window. My hands left transparent imprints in the condensation. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? I sure wish I was. Did something wake you up? Did your idiot vampire boyfriend disturb you with a series of ridiculous texts?”

The owl just contemplated me with unnervingly vast, slick, engrossed eyes. And there was something else, too: those eyes were blood red.

“So you’re an albino owl, huh big guy? Good for you. You know, usually albino animals don’t last all that long in the wild. Because they’re really easy for predators and prey to spot. Or they get skin cancer. So congratulations on living to become the voluptuous, tremendously creepy creature that you are today. Job well done.”

The owl stared back at me unflinchingly, blinked, then resumed staring. Rainwater gathered in swelling beads like blood drops on its ivory-colored beak and talons.

“Well,” I noted, turning away and grabbing my shower towel off the back of the desk chair. “You don’t get that in Arizona.”

Thirty minutes later, I was bounding down the stairs two at a time to meet Charlie in the kitchen. He was browsing through his daily newspaper at the table, drinking coffee and nibbling messily on burnt triangles of toast. Crumbs littered his moustache.

“You didn’t tell me that living here came with the added benefit of freaky albino animal friends.”

Charlie crinkled his forehead at me. “Huh?”

“How was bowling with the dads last night?”

“Oh, awesome!” he exclaimed, folding up his newspaper and slapping it down on the table. “We bowled against the team from Mora and it came right down to the wire, but we caught them. Dr. Lee got a strike on his very last turn. He always seems to do that...he’ll be bowling hit or miss all night and then when it really matters he manages to pull a strike out of nowhere. He’s a beast.”

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” I agreed, rummaging through the cabinets for Pop-Tarts.

“He mentioned that you and his son were really hitting it off,” Charlie said, grinning. “Not the ragey blond one. The spindly annoying one. What’s his name again? Josh? Jimmy?”

“Joe.” I conjured up my best poker face of lofty indifference. It crumbled like a sandcastle beneath reckless, rushing footsteps.

“Ohhhh, I saw that!” Charlie said, pointing, delighted. “Check out that smile. My gorgeous, brilliant progeny has a crush. I knew it. I knew you wouldn’t be single for long up here. Alright, I’m ready. Bring on the grandchildren.”

“Shut up,” I pleaded good-naturedly.

“Relax, I have great news. According to Gwil, that Joe kid is pretty wild about you too.”

“Oh, is that what you old guys do between bowling turns? Betray your children’s deepest confidences? Matchmake them over nachos and chili cheese dogs?” Still, my curiosity was piqued. “What else did Dr. Lee say about Joe?”

“I think the exact word he used was...” Charlie reminisced, sipping his coffee, curls of steam pouring over the rim of the mug. “Smitten.”

Supernatural Pictionary

I turned the notebook to Joe so he could see; everyone else momentarily covered their eyes or looked away. Then Lucy started the timer on her iPhone. Thirty seconds.

“Go!” Lucy announced.

“I think it’s a boat,” Rami said, hesitantly, haltingly, squinting at Joe with great concentration.

“Do you?” Joe teased.

“Yeah. But I’m also getting something about a fish.”

“Maybe I’m trying to make you think it’s a fish because it’s actually a boat,” Joe replied flippantly.

Rami muttered: “Or you want me to think it’s a boat because it’s actually a fish.”

“Interesting.”

“Now you’re mentally singing Never Gonna Give You Up just to fuck with me.”

Joe gasped, pressing a palm to his chest. “That doesn’t sound like something I would do!”

Scarlett snickered, dunking her chicken tender in honey mustard, slurping Coke through a straw clenched between crimson-painted lips. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“Fifteen seconds,” Lucy warned.

“Fish or boat, boat or fish...” Rami chanted, peering fixedly at Joe.

“Make a decision,” I taunted, hugging the notebook to my chest.

“I’m going with boat,” Rami decided.

“Final answer?” Lucy asked, then stopped the timer when Rami nodded.

“Loser!” Joe cackled victoriously, leaping out of his chair, waving his L-shaped fingers in the air. Calawah University students at nearby tables glanced over with wide, startled eyes, their beloved chicken tenders briefly forgotten. “How’s it feel to not win every round of a game, huh?! Loser!”

I flipped my notebook so Rami could see the extremely unskilled pencil sketch I’d drawn there: a smiling fish. “My condolences.”

“Damn.” Rami pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet and slid it across the table to Joe. Joe snatched it up, tucked it into the waistline of his jeans like a stripper collecting money in her G-string, and slung his arm around my shoulders.

“We are the champions. Bask in our glory.”

Scarlett turned on her iPhone flashlight and waved it in slow arcs over her head. “Youuuuu are the champions, my friendssssss...”

From my usual lunch table, Jessica gazed at my esteemed place among the Lees with palpable envy, resting her chin in her hands. I had worked out a schedule that seemed fairly obvious given my extensive experience as a child of divorce: lunch with Jessica et al. one day, lunch with the Lees the next. I took a bite of the Chipotle veggie bowl that Joe had insisted on ordering for me and tossed Jessica a sympathetic wave. Get Ben’s Snapchat for me! she mouthed back. I harbored serious doubts that Benjamin August Hardy, former professional assassin, born in 1893, had a Snapchat.

Joe’s words from last week rolled around in my head; I could see him all over again, nodding to the enormous painting hung in Gwil’s upstairs office, telling me about those startling, ethereal figures who had initiated Ben into life as a vampire. They call themselves the Draghi. They collect dues from covens, offer protection, keep order, protect our secrets. But they also demand loyalty. They force people they want into service. They might try to make it seem like you have a choice, but you don’t. They destroy anyone who tries to resist them. And they feed on humans.

“This is so awesome,” Lucy sighed, elated. “We could never play Pictionary before, drawing something is way too much of a mental process, Rami always figured it out right away...”

But now they had a built-in blindfold, someone who could draw without Rami getting a peek into their thoughts, a fighting chance at hiding the truth from him...for thirty seconds, at least.

“Okay Benny Boy, you’re up.” Joe darted over to Ben’s side of the table and massaged his tense, muscular shoulders as Ben grimaced. “You got this. I believe in you. Baby Swan is gonna pitch you a home run.”

“I’ll pass,” Ben said.

“You can’t!” Lucy cried. “Ben, please? Rami got Scarlett’s, and then he didn’t get Joe’s...and I know he’s going to see though me immediately. You’re our only chance to tie things up and maybe beat him!”

“Traitor,” Rami told Lucy affectionately.

“Uhh...” Ben hesitated, glimpsing longingly at the doors that led outside to the grove of bigleaf maple trees. He was fidgeting restlessly with his vape pen.

“Come on, Benny!” Joe begged. “I’ll owe you. I’ll do anything.”

Ben perked up a little bit. “You’ll do my Calc 2 homework for a month?”

Joe groaned theatrically, but nodded. He was wearing a grey U Chicago hoodie today. “Fine. Okay. But you’re gonna have to learn that shit eventually, I can’t take the MCAT for you.”

“Deal.” Ben bumped his knuckles against Joe’s.

“Batter up,” Joe heralded in his best mock-umpire voice, grinning at me expectantly, drumming the table with his palms. “Go Baby Swan, go! What will she choose? Will she continue with the nautical theme? Will she change it up, maybe switch to beloved Chicago landmarks? Baseball or food? Will she invent a variety of pizza even more despicable than pineapple?”

“Hm.” I flipped to a fresh notebook page, scratched my temple with the eraser end of the pencil, then quickly sketched a picture for Ben. “Okay, I’m ready.” I showed the drawing to Ben while everyone else covered their eyes.

Ben shook his head, scowling. “You’ll have to try again. I have no idea what that is.”

“Really?!” I checked the picture again. Okay, it definitely didn’t belong in the Louvre or anything, but it was lifelike enough to be decipherable. “You don’t recognize it? At all?”

“No,” Ben replied flatly.

From behind his shielded eyes, Rami scanned through the images in Ben’s mind. He dropped his hands onto the table. “SpongeBob?!”

“Who...?” Ben ventured.

Everyone else looked too. “Oh yeah, that’s definitely SpongeBob,” Joe said, then chuckled. “Aww, Baby Swan, you even remembered his little necktie!”

“It’s so cute!” Lucy trilled.

Ben just stared at the picture, blinking, completely lost, increasingly morose. And now there was a new guest at the table; or maybe not a new one, maybe just a quiet one, something that perched on the ledge of every conversation and field of vision just waiting to tap its claws against the wall and make its presence known: that interminable reminder of Ben’s unconventional past life, of how incomparable his vampiric upbringing was to those of the rest of the Lee kids.

“Benny Boy, you’ve never seen SpongeBob?” Joe inquired gently. “No problem. We’ll have a marathon tonight. I have the entire series on DVD. Also several Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy action figures.”

Scarlett snorted. “This is why you’ve been single since Hoover was president.”

“I wasn’t single the whole time,” Joe corrected.

“Oh, really?” Not that I’m interested, my voice suggested. I was a total liar. I was super interested. Thank the great deity that Rami and Ben couldn’t read me like a restaurant menu. Today’s specials are Being In Love With Someone Wildly Inappropriate for $15.99, and also Lamenting My Own Lack Of Sexual Experience for $11.99. Oh, and clam chowder.

“He had a couple of...what would you call them?” Scarlett combed her elegant fingers through her voluminous blonde hair. “What’s the modern vernacular? Fuck buddies? Booty calls? Netflix and chill partners?”

My stomach lurched; I nonchalantly buried my fork in a mountain of guacamole and left it there. I kept my lips turned up into a smile like a mask. Of course he’s loved other people. Duh. He’s hot and immortal. Get over it. But that didn’t calm my pounding heartbeat at all, didn’t soothe that sudden and irrational melancholy.

“Whoa whoa whoa, okay, you’re making it sound way worse than it was,” Joe protested, glancing at me nervously.

Scarlett continued: “It wasn’t serious, whatever it was. None of them would have cared about your action figure collection or obsession with a city you haven’t lived in for fifty years. It wasn’t your personality they wanted. Thank god.”

Oh this is bad, I thought helplessly. How am I ever going to be able to compete with the memory of countless gorgeous vampire girlfriends?

“Uh, ScarJo, you’re single too.” And Joe’s nickname for her was strangely apt; Scarlett could pass for Scarlett Johansson’s younger, blonder, much hotter sister. And Scarlett Johansson, in case you’re somehow unaware, is already pretty fucking hot.

Scarlett flashed a grin. “Entirely by choice.”

“And much to Mercy’s eternal and profound concern,” Lucy told me. “She stages an intervention at least twice a month. Did I overhear one last week, Scarlett?”

“Oh jesus, yeah. I was like, ���Mom, what the hell do I need a husband for? I have my own money. I can fix household appliances. I have a vibrator. I’m good to go.’”

Joe rocked back in his chair, howling. “You did not tell Mom that!”

“I did. She was so distraught. She just kind of pinched her eyes shut and shuddered and then went out back to feed the alpacas.”

“Scarlett, babe,” Rami managed between gales of laughter. “A vibrator isn’t going to keep you company for all of eternity. It’s not a suitable substitute for a life partner.”

“You’re right. It’s even better. It’ll never abandon or disappoint me. Assuming I keep the batteries fresh, of course.”

“Oh my god,” Lucy giggled into her hands.

“She’s not wrong,” I said, shrugging, sipping my Diet Coke.  

And Joe peered over at me, surprised, intrigued, slowly raising his thin dark eyebrows. I winked back. Yeah, okay, I’ve never slept with someone. But that doesn’t mean I’ve never had an orgasm.

“Ah, loud thoughts! Loud thoughts! Joe, please!” Rami moaned, pressing his balled fists to his forehead.

Ben smirked. “There’s a color I’ve never seen from you before, Joe.”

“This family is the worst!” Joe exploded.

“I like that girl,” Scarlett decided, signaling to me with glossy maroon fingernails. “She can stay.”

Joe sighed, flustered, then shook it off as he turned to me. “You coming over tonight?”

“I can’t spend every night at your house petting alpacas, mob guy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling, draping his arm around the back of my chair. “Why not?”

“Well, my tonight-specific reason is that I’m visiting a friend.”

“Cool. Your friends are my friends. Can I visit too?”

“You’re aware that you’re a legit stalker, right?” But actually, Archer was dying to meet Joe: the loud Lee, the approachable Lee, the Lee who I definitely liked more than a Tinder swipe could ever convey. This could work. “Offer to buy dinner and you can come.”

“I’m a walking Visa, baby.”

Ben stood, hauled on his backpack, gathered up his trash to throw away. “I need a smoke break before Chem. See you guys later.”

“Don’t forget!” Joe called after him. “SpongeBob marathon starts at 8! I’ll bring the Milk Duds!”

And when Ben disappeared through the doors, a solemn hush descended over the table.

“Poor guy,” Lucy said softly. The other Lees nodded.

And again, I recalled what Joe had told me in Gwil’s office, what he had said when I asked how Ben came to join the Lee family. He was assigned to us, to be the liaison to our coven. And Gwil saw something in him. Potential, suffering, unrealized decency, I don’t know. But Gwil worked on him for years, trying to convince Ben to leave the Draghi when his contract was up and come live with us. To give a peaceful life a try. And to be honest, Ben never seemed interested. But something must have resonated with him, because we opened the front door on October 15th, 2016 and he was sitting on the steps of our porch with a single suitcase, puffing on that fucking vape pen and watching the storm clouds roll in off the Pacific Ocean.

But why would they just let him leave? I had asked, tracing my fingertips over the uncanny and magnificent faces in that painting. Why would they let him live?

Because they know how valuable he is. And because they think they can get him back.

“I think he’s a good person,” I said, breaking the silence. “You know. Underneath the whole being raised to be a killing machine thing.”

“Yeah,” Rami replied, frowning thoughtfully. “Just try not to spend too much time alone with him.”

Car Jacks And Sneak Attacks

“Joe, this is Archer James Foxchild, my first-ever best friend.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” Joe said, shaking Archer’s oil-stained hand. “I understand you are really good at making mud pies and poking dead animals with sticks.”

Archer chuckled. “It’s true. We found a shark tooth down at La Push one time and I convinced Baby Swan here that it was from a sea monster. She had nightmares for months. Charlie called my dad over it and I got my Game Boy taken away.”

“No!” Joe gasped in horror. “Were you a Pokémon guy?”

“For sure.”

“Ruby or Sapphire?”

“Emerald.”

Joe grinned. “This dude knows what’s up.”

“And to think, my grandpa tried to tell me that you guys were freaks,” Archer replied.

“Well,” Joe conceded. “Not all of us.”  

“Maybe you two should start dating,” I said. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit in my Honda and eat my Taco Bell cheese quesadillas and Cinnamon Twists and try not to interrupt all the sex.”

“Yes, you brought Taco Bell,” Archer sighed euphorically. “Give me five minutes, I just gotta finish rotating these tires real quick.” He jogged to the other end of the garage, knelt beside a Ford Mustang that was propped up on a jack, and starting twisting off lug nuts with a tire iron.

“You have a nice place here,” Joe observed, strolling around the small garage with his hands in the front pocket of his U Chicago hoodie, eyeing the fractures in the concrete floor and the spidering cracks in the windows. “You have any investors?”

“Are you kidding?!” Archer replied from the Mustang. “No, man, it’s just me. I rent for now, but at some point I’ll buy my own shop. Once I’ve saved up enough. A great big one with shiny new equipment and no mice squeaking behind the walls.”

“What’s your cash flow like?”

“I’m netting around three grand a month after taxes.”

“Not bad!” Joe noted admiringly.

“Yeah. It’s a hustle, but I love it.”

“Hey, I don’t know if you’d be interested—and absolutely no pressure if you’re not, really—but I do a lot of work with start-ups and I’d love to help you get into your own shop. By this Christmas, preferably. If we can work out a deal.”

“Really?!” Archer peeked incredulously over the hood of the Mustang.

“Absolutely.”

Archer beamed at me. “This guy is willing to drop serious cash to look good in front of you. You should probably marry him. No prenup though.”

I held my pinky out towards Joe, grinning. “No more sad prenups.”

He laughed and hooked my pinky with his. “Bankrupt me, bitch.”

I heard the metallic clang of a lug nut hitting the concrete floor and rolling under the Mustang. “Come back here, you bastard,” Archer muttered, then dropped to his stomach and crawled beneath the car.

“Hey, kid, be careful,” I fretted, crossing my arms across my chest and taking a step closer.

“Relax, Baby Swan, I am a professional, changing a tire for me is like feeding a fish for you, so just chill and keep fantasizing about those Cinnamon Twists—”

There was a squeal of metal as the car jack collapsed and the Mustang came crashing down. In a fraction of a second—faster than I could see him moving, faster than I could loose a scream—Joe had soared across the garage, yanked Archer out from beneath the falling Mustang, and dragged him to the center of the room.

“Oh fuck,” Archer wheezed, his dark eyes huge and fascinated and horrified. “Grandpa was right.”

I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)

We rolled up to the Lee house in my 1999 Honda Accord just as I polished off the last of my Cinnamon Twists and Archer chewed, tentatively and dazedly, on a Cheesy Gordita Crunch. The sun was beginning to set in a clouded sky that perpetually threatened rain.

He asked Joe for the fifth time from the back seat: “But wait, seriously, no one is going to eat me, right? Because I’m too young to die. I haven’t taken enough vacations yet. I can’t die without seeing Hawaii. I want to swim with the sea turtles.”

“No, none of us have ever eaten people. Well, almost none of us. Maybe stay away from Ben.”

“I would like a little more exposition,” Archer replied, blanching.

“Hey, if you stay until 8, you guys can join us for the SpongeBob marathon!”

Gwil and Mercy were waiting on the front porch, thanks to Joe’s ‘hey I accidentally exposed myself as a paranormal being and now we have a new friend, plz don’t be mad okay love you see you soon!1!!’ text.

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Mercy fussed, enfolding Archer into her arms as soon as he stepped out of the Honda. “Would you like some hummingbird cake? I just baked it this morning. And maybe some sweet tea too. And some peanut butter cookies. And banana pudding.”

“Sure,” he responded, bewildered. This lady does not seem like a bloodsucking demon, that voice said. And he was absolutely right.

“I’ll fix you up a tray,” Mercy promised, and hurried into the house.

“We’re so very happy to have you, Mr. Foxchild.” Gwil shook Archer’s hand firmly. “We don’t get many visitors around here. I’m sure you understand why.”

“My grandpa always insisted that there was something off about you guys. Especially you, Dr. Lee. Said you shouldn’t still be around.”

“Yes, I imagine that would have been disconcerting for him. He must have remembered us from the 1940s...that’s the last time we settled down in Forks. It’s not often that someone recognizes us after so long, but it happens. It was just Mercy and me and Rami and Joe back then. And look how far we’ve come.” Gwil beamed warmly, then turned to Joe. “But really, son, you’re going to have to stop telling humans about us.”

“Hold up, I was not responsible for her!” Joe exclaimed, waving at me. “Take it up with Ben!”

The garage door rumbled open and Scarlett sauntered out, wiping her filthy hands with a rag. She halted abruptly, stood there in her high-waisted vintage jeans and black crop top and bare feet with maroon-colored toenails, tilted her head and pondered Archer with an innocent sort of curiosity that I hadn’t seen from her before.

“Wait,” Archer said, gaping. “Is that...is that an Aston Martin Vantage in there?!”

“You bet,” Scarlett replied. “You want to learn how to work on it?”

“Uh, hell to the yeah!” He trotted over and they vanished into the garage together.

“Huh,” Joe muttered, watching them. “She was nice to him. Very weird.” He whirled back to me. “Anyway, come on. I promised you an education in classic rock music. And I shall deliver.”

Joe’s bedroom was a chaotic jumble of economics textbooks and Chicago Cubs paraphernalia and U Chicago apparel and action figures and comic books and classic rock posters. There was a massive Italian flag tacked to the wall above his bed. But what caught my attention immediately was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Ben lurking in the corner by a bookshelf full of cassette tapes.

“How is there any possible logical explanation for that?” I asked, pointing.

“Oh, that! That was a joke. When Ben first showed up, he pretty much lived in his room and never came out. Gwil was worried. Mercy was heartbroken. So I made a cardboard cutout of him and would bring it to family activities and do this really deep and seductive Ben voice when I pretended to have conversations with him. It gave the whole situation some levity...and I think Ben secretly liked that we missed him enough to make an artificial version to fill the void.”

“So this bitchy, brooding, blood-craving Ben I met is actually a drastic improvement?”

“Oh, Baby Swan,” Joe confided, almost sadly. “You have no idea what he was like four years ago.”

“I’m glad he has you. All of you. That he has a chance to get better.”

“I think you might be good for him too. Seeing a human as a real person instead of a walking, talking Hi-C juice box. And you care about him, don’t you? Despite everything.”

“Of course. It’s not his fault they taught him to be a monster.”  

Joe just looked at me for a while, and then he cradled my face with one hand and grazed a thumb across my cheek “You’re never going to stop saying things that knock me into next week, are you?”

“Joe...” I hesitated, laying my hand over his. His skin was smooth and yielding yet strong, cool yet not unnaturally so. Refreshing. Safe. Fan-fucking-tastic. Oh noooooo. “Are we a thing?”

“Why? Do you want to be a thing?”

“Oh, uh, no, I was just wondering if we were.”

He stepped away, teasing me with a crooked smirk. “...So you don’t want to be a thing?”

“What would that entail?”

“Well...we’d be an official thing, you and me.” He shot finger guns at me, and then towards himself. “Which means you can’t be a thing with anyone else. And neither can I.”

“Ahhh, I see. So this thing is an exclusive thing.”

“Will you shut up and just admit that you’d totally be thrilled to be a thing with me?”

“Fine. Whatever. We’re a thing.”

“Nice.” He high-fived me.

“This is the most romantic moment of my life.”

“But wait, there’s more.” He went to the bookshelf, browsed through his cassette tape collection, found the one he wanted and popped it into a boombox that was probably older than I was. The frantic opening piano notes of I’d Do Anything For Love poured out.

“Meat Loaf,” I said in disbelief. “Really. This is the product of your superior taste in music. This is the culmination of over a century of musical experience. Meat Loaf.”

“The man is a genius!”

“This is all an elaborate joke about my vegetarianism, isn’t it?”

“No,” Joe mused. “But now that you mention it, I have yet another reason to force you to appreciate this song.” He took my hand in his, spun me around like a ballerina in a slow and careful circle, sang along—with extreme and dramatic enthusiasm—to the music.

“And I would do anything for love

I'd run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I'd never lie to you and that's a fact...”

“I don’t dance,” I cautioned him, laying a palm against his chest to catch my balance. That brisk, comforting scent of pine and snow and peppermint was everywhere. It feels like I can’t stand to be away from him. Like I’ll never get close enough. “I am terribly uncoordinated. I will step all over your feet. And I’m really not sure if I can trust you. You didn’t even know the plural form of octopus until like eighteen hours ago. You’re kind of a disaster. A, you know, uh, unexpectedly charming, unconventionally super cute, kind of bizarrely enchanting disaster.”

“Yeah,” Joe whispered, smiling, tilting up my chin, leaning in to kiss me. “I like you too.”

Cato

He came out of the oak trees like a ghost, pushing aside massive chandeliers of Spanish moss that blotted out the dusk sun, his expensive shoes sloshing in the marshy water that flooded the rice field. He was wearing a full suit, but no top hat; his hair was black and chin-length and wild around his face. And at first I thought he was a hallucination, a dream conjured by heat sickness or those first dreaded signs of malaria. He was unnervingly, uncommonly beautiful; beautiful like a hurricane, beautiful like lightning or an eclipse. But he was real. I straightened up as I watched him approach, my back aching in protest, a basket full of seedlings slung over my shoulder.

“Mr. Cato.”

His voice, clear and beckoning and twisted by an accent I’d never heard before, rang in my skull like church bells. He called me mister. This white man called me mister.

“Yes sir?” And I almost added: You want to be careful there, sir. The water moccasins like to hide among the tree roots, especially when the sun starts going down. But I had an inexplicable feeling that this man wasn’t afraid of things like snakes. Maybe the snakes should be afraid of him.

“Mr. Cato,” he said again, this time to himself, very quietly, tasting it.

I kept trying to look away, to disentangle my gaze from him like a hook out of a sturgeon’s mouth, because staring piercingly and astonished at a white man like that in the rice swamps of South Carolina in 1851 could get me beaten or the lash, could get my teeth pried right out of my jaw. But it didn’t seem to bother him. He grinned, hugely, all-knowingly, under prehistoric golden eyes like an alligator’s. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. And he was proud.

“Do you want to be free?” he asked, almost hissed, still grinning from the tree line.

What kind of question was that? Did a sandpiper want to fly? Did a coyote want dirt under its paws and flesh disappearing down its throat? But that wasn’t something you ever confessed aloud, not if you wanted your feet on the ground instead of swinging ten inches above it. But this man wasn’t a master, wasn’t an overseer. He wasn’t from the South. He didn’t carry a whip or a club to remind you of the rules of the world. He stood there tall and radiant in the shadows of the fading daylight like he was the one who wrote the rules to begin with; which meant that maybe he could change them. “Yes sir.”

“I can only take you,” the man warned. “No others. No family. No friends.”

“No trouble, sir,” I told him. “They sold my family. They hanged my friends.”

The man’s grin stretched wider under glinting eyes. His canine teeth were sharp, I realized: like a coyote’s, like a snake’s fangs. He held out his hand. “We are going to get along very well, you and I.”

I let the basket fall from my shoulder. I slogged through the mud and rows of wispy verdant rice plants to meet him in the shade of the oak trees. And there, for the first time in forever, a man with skin the color of bones looked me dead in the eye and shook my scarred hand.

“Welcome, Cato,” he whispered; and I was home.

He took my face in his cool palms, gingerly, reverently, like a lover. He touched his teeth to my throat. And every nerve ending in my body flooded with wildfire as he dragged me, screaming, into the depths of the forest.